#so maybe it is a hereditary thing

[chewiiez]

would also like to add that so many mq antis use the fact that he kicked hc out of the army (thus not making hc and xl meet earlier) as a way to hate mq and clearly that's not true because?? mq himself is a victim of child labour, and his peer fx is as well?? mq and fx antis are either super delulu or super fucked up about child labour because ur telling me hc meeting xl was more important that hc's mental health and physical health...🤨

absolutely wild decision on the part of the King and Queen of Xianle to just. hire a 14 year old to be their son’s bodyguard. what compels you to do that

[doodle17]

I've noticed in some recent Donatella doodles I've been cooking up I gave her a small beauty mark on her left cheek and honestly that little detail is making me go feral hrrrrvghhghh

[valeriefauxnom]

On the Head Accessories of the Royal Family

There's no grand agenda to this post, more just a few observations I found a bit amusing in the course of research and wanted to share.

So, of the family that does wear head accessories, a pattern seems to emerge: they're mostly metal instead of the incredibly ornate gem-studded crowns IRL royalty liked to flaunt about, kings and princesses alike.

But taking a look at the fam, only Leonidas and Chelle (well, and Zethia, but I dunno how much of that is royal fashion vs Auspex religious-based choices) have any gemstone piece to their circlet/tiara/crown, and Leonidas' isn't even attached to the actual circlet itself. Chelle's also has one, which, for a women who loves to play up being a ditzy party princess to manipulate people into underestimating her, is a bit of a surprise she didn't go full display of riches to me.

Even King Aurelius' lacks ornamentation:

Here's where things get a bit more conjecture-y: given Aurelius seems to loathe vanity, seeing as how he hides away his coronation portrait for this reason, and whether he's following or starting a trend, I think he's tried to raise the kids to be 'modest' in presentation. Of course, this still involves looking proper, but I think he might not have taken well to ostentatious shows of wealth or encouraged beliefs that they were inherently superior than lowly peasants.

Regardless if this is part of the reason or not why everyone isn't porting gemstone-packed crowns, it's still funny that even my best friend WillofWinnie picked up on this enough in her incredible gift in the form of sticky-note fic art when designing a new little circlet for Zethia in its ending scene that I am shamelessly showing off again because it made me so happy to receive fic art!

(it also leads to my next point, being that she also picked up the tendency for the fam to be very attuned to pointy metal accessories!)

Now, I don't have any guess as to why they love plain pointy metal circlets, besides that maybe it's a demonstration of Alberia's militaristic pragmatic might. But it's not the only pointy plain metal head accessory someone in the family wears!

Yep, there's someone in the royal family that wears earrings. Who, Chelle, Zethia, you might wonder? Nope, that goes to Leonidas, who wears plain gold, if pointy metal earrings that disguise with his hair pretty well.

He has them it in all of his versions including his base one, but I felt this was one of the best ones to highlight the contrast that it's not just a weird parting of hair. You go, Leo!

I dunno what fashion expectations are for the royal court in Dragalia, ie, maybe it's considered a masculine (ex: Look at My Manliness for Having HOLES Gauged in my Ears!) or neutral accessory, but hey, it's not too often you see pierced ears in my experience on boys in video games in a more meta sense. Really, the only things that are suggested about court fashion is that Cassandra's clothes are considered inappropriate and Leif believes Gala Chelle's are, too.

But wait, there's more! In somebody else's Gala form, they too gain this. It's also pretty hidden in art, but as you can clearly see on the model...

Gala Emile has gained a singular earring on his right ear that's suspiciously similar to Leo's.

I wonder if he wanted to try and emulate Leonidas but chickened out immediately after his first ear was pierced and then pretended it was a deliberate fashion decision instead of him not wanting to be poked again.

So yeah, two of the royal family wears earrings, and it's Leonidas and Emile, of all people.

[barnbridges]

my most education major take is that people don't want you to parent your children anymore. people don't want mothers (and fathers) to give any sort of life-advice or care to their children. people have become so therapy-obsessed and the whole "intergenerational trauma" craze has made it so that you should actually pass nothing onto your child. you should just take your child to therapy and feed them baby formula until they're 18 and at that point, they're on their own. it's cruel and inhumane and the way people want to de-involve society at large in the raising of children, down to that they shouldn't even be parented anymore.

[brightsout]

beau is afraid was perfect dark comedy for me, it just completely struck my funny bone specially the first part with his house and the chaos in the streets

[theostrophywife]

— sugar, i've got a taste for you.

NAVIGATION // inbox. | tags. | writing. | library. | moodboard.

pairing: theodore nott x reader x mattheo riddle.

song inspiration: sugar by sleep token.

author's note: happy halloween ya'll! this isn't a trick, @writingsbychlo and I are once again back with a treat. enjoy my spookie pookies.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

You settled in between Theo and Mattheo, handing each boy their own respective popcorn bowls. Mattheo’s was simple — homestyle with enough butter to send a healthy grown adult into cardiac arrest, while Theo’s was sprinkled with candy and chocolate to satisfy his sweet tooth. You alternated grabbing handfuls from each of their bowls, hence your strategic position of being sandwiched between your best friends. 

“I don’t have one,” you responded after popping a sour gummy worm into your mouth. 

Mattheo looked incredulous. “That’s impossible. Everyone has a favorite.” 

“Mattheo is right,” Theo added in agreement. “There’s the cult classics: Halloween, Friday the 13th, Child’s Play, A Nightmare on Elm Street…” 

“I’ll even allow the newer additions, which aren’t as good as the originals.” Mattheo grinned sheepishly at your pointed look. Between the three of you, he was by far the biggest movie snob. “Hereditary? Pearl? The Strangers?” He pretended to shudder in disgust. “Even…the Purge?”

You shrugged. “I’m more of a romcom type of girl.” 

Theo sighed. “Horror is wasted on you, bella.” 

“It’s not my fault you two always outvote me,” you responded with an eye roll. “Speaking of which, what are we watching tonight?” 

Mattheo and Theo wore matching grins as they answered in unison. “Scream.” 

When the movie started playing on the projector in the living room, you snuggled up under the blanket and prepared yourself for another terrifying movie night. You honestly had no idea why you put yourself through this every week. Scary movies terrified you, but the boys always managed to sweet talk you into watching them. 

Usually, Theo distracted you by reciting horror trivia facts. Your best friend did so now, informing you that the movie’s title was inspired by a Michael Jackson song, but the fun little tidbit barely registered. As it turns out, you had no need for distractions tonight. For once, you didn’t flinch or hide or tuck your head into Mattheo or Theo’s neck. Instead, your eyes were glued to the screen. Every time Ghostface appeared, you bit your lip and clenched your thighs. 

You blamed your latest smutty read and your overactive imagination for the reaction. The last novel you devoured featured erotic scenes enacted by not one, but two masked men. The sheer filth of it left you flushed and flustered, a fact that piqued Theo’s curiosity earlier this week. 

Perhaps you should’ve focused on your studies rather than uncovering your newfound mask kink, but you couldn’t help it. The book captured your attention in a way that your Potions homework could only dream of. Nosy little git that he was, Theo attempted to peek at the page over your shoulder. Luckily, you escaped what would’ve been a rather embarrassing conversation by smacking him upside the head and walking away in a huff. 

You managed to evade the situation with your dignity still intact. 

Or so you thought. 

Unbeknownst to you, Theo had snuck into your dorm later that day and borrowed — okay, so maybe stole was more accurate —  your book to see what had his best friend all hot and bothered. He couldn’t believe the absolute filth you were casually reading in his presence. Naturally, Theo shared this interesting little discovery with Mattheo. From there, a plan was formed. 

The first thing that should’ve tipped you off was Mattheo excusing himself for a cigarette. Matty never took a smoke break during movie night. He said it ruined the cinematic experience. Unfortunately, you were too engrossed in the movie to notice him slip away. 

“I’m gonna get a refill,” Theo announced. “You want anything from the kitchen, bella?” 

You shook your head absentmindedly. Theo smirked to himself as he watched you in the doorway. Any other time, you would’ve insisted on coming with Theo, anxiously fisting the edge of his cardigan and clinging on like a koala as you hugged him from behind. 

Theo could’ve watched you all day, but the way you gaped when Billy Loomis licked red dye off of his fingers reminded him to stay focused. There were other things at play tonight. 

Unaware of Theo’s nefarious plans, you continued to shovel popcorn into your mouth while watching the big reveal at the edge of your seat. You were in your own little world. It wasn’t until the credits started rolling when you finally realized you were alone. As the movie faded to black, you startled when the sound of your ringtone sliced through the silence. 

You blinked at your phone, thumb hovering over the Unknown Number flashing across the bright screen. That was odd. Everyone knew you weren’t big on talking on the phone. Besides, who even called nowadays? That’s what texting was for.

Part of you wanted to let it ring and run its course, but a bigger part of you — the morbidly curious part of you — won in the end. 

“Hello?” 

The voice on the other end was distorted and difficult to identify. You had no idea who was on the other end, but they knew you. “Hello, Y/N.” 

“Who is this?” 

“I’ll give you one guess.” 

Your fingers shook as you glanced at the phone in confusion. “Who are you?” 

“That’s not the way the game works, little mouse.” 

“I don’t play games.” 

“What if your life depended on it?” 

Anger boiled to the surface in response to the stranger’s threat. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“You’re pretty when you’re angry, little mouse.” 

His words stopped you cold. A shiver went down your spine as you gravitated towards the window, glancing at the street below. At this hour, people milled about the main square in flocks. Any of them could be the person on the other line. 

You started to panic, but remembered you weren’t alone in the house. Theo was in the kitchen supposedly refilling on snacks. It was the perfect cover to play one of his little practical jokes on you. 

“That’s not funny, Teddy.” You huffed in annoyance. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

The other line was silent as you made your way towards the kitchen. 

“Seriously, you’re freaking me out. Can you please just come back and cuddle?” 

From the hallway, you heard the sounds of shuffling. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, bella. Teddy’s here to save you from the big bad wolf—”

Color drained from your face as you rounded the corner. Theo was coming towards you with a fresh bowl of popcorn, but he wasn’t alone. Lurking in the shadows, Ghostface pressed the phone against his ear and waved.  

“Boo.” 

You screamed, scrambling towards Theo as you nearly dropped your phone on the floor.  

“What’s wrong, bella?” 

You responded by tugging your best friend by the wrist, the bowl of popcorn tumbling out of his hands and scattering all over the wooden floorboards. “Run, Teddy, run!” 

The two of you sprinted up the stairs hand in hand. The house was dark, slivers of moonlight creeping through the windows while you and Theo ran blindly. Thinking quickly, you tugged him into the nearest closet. Theo’s hand shook as he pressed a finger up to your lips. 

With a nod, you held your breath as Ghostface stomped up the stairs. Fear surged through your veins, small whimpers escaping your lips involuntarily. The floorboards creaked as he crept his way through the second floor. When the masked man’s shadow drew closer, Theo pulled you into his chest and pressed his hand against your mouth. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Ghostface sang in a mocking tone. His voice echoed through the walls, giving an even eerier feel to an already fucked up night. “I’m waiting for you, little mouse.” 

Your ragged breaths were silenced as you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus on the steady beating of Theo’s heart. Your best friend gripped your hips in place, his silver rings cold against your bare skin. You wondered how they would feel pressed against other parts of your body. You bit your lip at the sensation, mentally scolding yourself for all the inappropriate thoughts running wild in your lust addled brain. 

Luckily, Theo was none the wiser. Seconds felt like hours as Ghostface lurked around the corner, trashing rooms in his wake. The sound of furniture crashing and glass breaking filled the otherwise silent house as you struggled to hold it together. 

When the squeak of boots stopped right outside the door, you pressed into Theo for comfort, praying to whatever deity that the two of you could remain hidden. You clutched the end of your best friend’s cardigan as Ghostface stopped right outside the door. 

Whatever hope you might’ve had of hiding was ripped to shreds when Ghostface yanked the door open. It was terrifying enough to see his cloaked figure boxing you in, but the knife in his gloved hand caused your fear to skyrocket. Theo threw himself between you and the masked man, urging you to run. 

“Go, Y/N!” Your best friend commanded. “Don’t let the bastard catch you.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you!” 

“I’ll be fine,” Theo said unconvincingly as he dodged Ghostface’s blade. “Hide and I’ll find you, okay?” 

“But, Theo —“ 

“Please, bella.” 

The argument died in your throat as Ghostface lunged towards you. He grabbed you by the hair, yanking you towards him. As you fought back, the masked man pinned you against the wall. 

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” 

Your breath hitched as he ran his blade over your cheek. “Such a pretty face,” he murmured. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, little mouse?” 

“Fuck you,” you spat vehemently. 

Ghostface chuckled darkly as he lowered his face to yours. He teased his knife along your thighs, the steel climbing higher and higher until it rested against your clothed core. You keened at the cold sensation against your clit. It was so wrong, but it felt so fucking right. 

“I will if you beg me nicely,” Ghostface drawled. “Maybe if you got on your knees and sucked my cock, I’ll give you what you really want. I’m dying to split you apart, little mouse.” 

“Go to hell!” 

You drove your knee into Ghostface’s crotch and made a run for it just as Theo tackled him into the other room. Your best friend frantically instructed you to escape once again. As much as you didn’t want to leave him, you knew you had to escape and get help. 

Stumbling down the stairs, you fumbled for your phone. With shaky hands, you dialed emergency services. The dial tone flatlined in your ears, indicating that the lines were down. Likely thanks to Ghostface. 

You screamed in frustration, tears blurring your vision as you tried and failed to concoct a back up plan. Running past the bathroom, you jerked when a hand shot out in the dark to grab your wrist. You started to fight back, hitting and kicking at whatever you could. 

“It’s me, princess,” Mattheo said. 

“Matty?” 

Mattheo nodded as he dragged you into the bathroom. “What happened?” 

“There’s— there’s a psycho in the house. It’s Ghostface. He has a knife. He’s— Theo— oh god, I left Theo alone with him. I didn’t want to, but he told me to go.” 

You were hyperventilating, your chest tightening to the point of pain. “Shh, it’s okay,” Mattheo cooed. “It’s going to be fine. We���ll get Theo back, but first we have to hide, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

At your nod, Mattheo directed you towards the bathtub. He instructed you to lay on your back as he drew the curtains. You held your breath as Mattheo lowered himself, his body hovering over yours while the two of you came face to face. 

“We have to be quiet,” Mattheo whispered. The low, smoky tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. 

Though a psychotic masked man prowled the house, you couldn’t control your body’s reaction. The delicious heat radiating off of Mattheo was impossible to ignore. Especially since he was so close your lips were nearly touching. 

“You’re doing great, Y/N,” he praised. 

You should’ve been scared. You were both in danger, but there was something about being in close proximity that awakened arousal within you. First Theo, now Mattheo. It wasn’t surprising. You’ve never been able to choose between your two favorite boys. 

Just as Mattheo’s eyes dipped down to your lips, Theo’s scream pierced through the tension. Guilt washed over you instantly. Theo was out there fighting for his life while you were thinking sinful thoughts about his best mate. 

“Stay right here, princess,” Mattheo commanded. 

“No, no, please Matty, don’t leave—”

“I have to help Theo,” he explained. “But we’ll come back for you. Just stay put, okay?” 

Unshed tears rimmed your eyes as you nodded. Mattheo squeezed your hip before stepping out of the tub. He looked back when you caught his wrist.

“Be careful, Matty,” you whispered. “And please, get Teddy back. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to either one of you.” 

Mattheo kissed your forehead in agreement. As he slipped out of the bathroom, your anxiety spiked once more. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then the sound of raised voices drew your attention. It sounded like an argument of some sort before you heard a sickening crunch, like a body crashing against the wall. 

You heard Mattheo screaming out Theo’s name, launching you into action. Fuck staying in the sidelines. Your boys needed your help. 

The scene in the living room was chaotic. Mattheo was nowhere to be found. Theo was on the floor, surrounded by broken glass. Something flashed in the corner of your vision, a hint of silver that caught your attention. It distracted you momentarily, allowing Ghostface the opportunity to shove you aside. 

The moment of realization hit you too late. Ghostface was already charging towards Theo while brandishing his signature knife. Time slowed as you screamed, crawling towards your best friend while glass crunched underneath you. 

You watched in horror as Ghostface stabbed your best friend in the stomach, blood gushing down the front of Theo’s shirt while you screamed. With shaking hands, you tried to stanch the bleeding by putting pressure on the wound. Tears spilled onto your cheeks as his cardigan turned crimson. 

Brushing his hair off his forehead, you leaned down and cupped his cheek. “Teddy? Stay with me, please.” 

His skin felt cold and clammy under your fingertips. You looked around frantically, trying to track the psychotic killer that just stabbed your best friend. A scream tore through your throat when a hand gripped your wrist. 

Underneath you, Theo’s eyes fluttered open. “Surprise, bella.” 

You drew back in surprise, scooting right into the masked man behind you. “What’s the matter, princess?” A familiar voice whispered as he discarded his disguise. Mattheo flashed you a sinister smirk. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Mattheo pulled Theo up off the floor, the two of them laughing while you stared in disbelief at the shocking reveal. When it clicked that Theo was perfectly fine, your concern morphed into rage. 

“What the fuck?” You put a palm over your heart, trying to slow down its erratic beating. “You guys are assholes!” 

“Aw, don’t be mad, Y/N. It’s just a harmless prank.” 

“Prank?” You screeched. “I thought you were hurt, you fucking prick. I thought you were gone—”

Theo’s expression softened when he saw your teary eyed gaze. “I’m not, cara mia. I’m not hurt. It’s fake, I promise.” 

Mattheo kneeled beside you, licking the edge of the fake blade. “S’just corn syrup, sugar.” 

Theo nodded in agreement, bringing his fingers up to his lips. He sucked his middle and pointer finger clean, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“It’s sweet,” Theo murmured, brushing his thumb over your lips. “Do you want a taste, bella?” 

You shook your head vehemently. “No, I’m mad at you,” you replied with a huff. Looking up at Mattheo, you crossed your arms and frowned. “You too, Mattheo.” 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Mattheo drawled, laying on the sweet talk. “Don’t be like that. You know you love us, even if we’re a pain in your ass sometimes.” 

“99% of the time,” you corrected with an eye roll. 

“You cracked a smile,” Mattheo teased. “We’ll take it.” 

“I’m still really fucking upset at the both of you.” 

Theo hummed, slipping on the twin to Mattheo’s mask. You held your breath as Ghostface took his place. 

“Oh, but I don’t think you’re that upset, bella.” The mask distorted his voice, but you could still tell it was him. “I think you enjoyed yourself.” 

“Admit it, princess,” Mattheo purred into your ear, his mask firmly back on. “This turns you on, doesn’t it?” 

You flushed, crimson flooding your cheeks. Theo trapped you against Mattheo, his hands settling on your hips as you gasped. 

“Don’t try to deny it,” Theo whispered. “I read your book, dolcezza. The filth and smut in there… well, let’s just say it made us both blush. Who would’ve known that a sweet little thing like you would have a mask kink?”

“You stole my book!”

“So what if we did?” Mattheo said with a lazy shrug. “What if we memorized all the depraved things that you love reading about just so we could turn your fantasy into a reality?” 

“What are you saying?” 

“The more we read, the more we realized it was pretty similar to Scream. Anonymous phone calls? Check. Masked men? Check.” Theo hummed as he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “Pretty helpless victim? Check.” 

“We wanted to act out your book,” he continued with a smirk. “With one exception.” He held up a video camera and focused it on your face. “Mattheo and I thought that since you don’t have a favorite scary movie, maybe we could help you make one.” 

“I think we’ve just about reached the climax,” Mattheo whispered in your ear, his curls tickling the side of your neck. “What happens next is up to you. What do you say, little mouse? Do you wanna play?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

You didn’t even need time to think about it. You trusted Theo and Mattheo with your life. Putting yourself at their mercy was something you shamelessly fantasized about countless times.  

“We hoped you’d say that,” Theo said with a smirk as he looked at you through the lens.

Without warning, Mattheo gripped your chin roughly and lifted his mask up just enough to crush your lips together. He tasted like cinnamon and cigarettes and the smoky taste left you dizzy. You wondered if it was the nicotine that had you buzzing, but you were pretty sure you were just high on Mattheo. His kisses were deep and sensual, exploring every inch of you with a level of hunger that couldn’t be satiated. The low groan that rumbled through his chest made your core throb. 

Mattheo dragged your hand down his chest, smiling into the kiss as your nails raked over his abs. The hard muscles flexed underneath your fingertips, distracting you momentarily and allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue deeper into your mouth. You gasped as he guided your hand to his hard length. 

“You feel that, princess?” Mattheo grunted. “That’s what you do to me. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.” 

You batted your eyelashes up at him. “What can I do to help, Matty?” 

“On your knees,” he commanded. “Let’s give Theo a show.” 

Theo positioned himself in front of you as you sank down to your knees. The camera whirred while he zoomed in on your face. 

“How do I look, Teddy?” 

“You look perfect, bella. You were made for the camera,” Theo praised. “Our little superstar.” 

Mattheo hummed as you unbuckled his belt. His warm brown eyes were nearly black with lust through the mask when you pulled his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard length. You massaged him in your hand, your mouth watering at how thick and long his cock was. Mattheo released a shaky breath when you licked the precum off of his tip, looking up at him with big doe eyes before you licked the underside of his shaft. 

You watched as his head lolled in the mask, satisfaction coursing through your veins at the sight of him grappling with his self-control. Mattheo moaned when you took him all the way back, his cock stuffing your throat deliciously. You bobbed your head up and down at a steady rhythm, holding your breath while you continued pumping him in your hand. 

“Fuck, just like that,” Mattheo groaned as he thrusted into your mouth. He fisted your hair in his hand and drove in deeper, causing you to gag. “You look so pretty gagging on my cock, little mouse.” 

Drool dribbled down your chin and tears filled your eyes while Mattheo continued fucking your throat. Theo hummed in appreciation, making sure to capture all of your best angles. You made sure to show off for the camera and licked and sucked until Mattheo’s breathing grew short and ragged. You could tell by the way his abs clenched that he was close. 

Mattheo yanked your hair back, his thrusts growing sloppy and rushed. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Swallow it all, sugar,” he purred as hot spurts of his cum shot down your throat. You did as you were told and slurped up every drop. You were sure that you looked like a hot mess; your hair disheveled, your eyes smeared with mascara, your lips dripping with cum, but Mattheo had never looked prouder. “That’s a good girl.” 

“My turn,” Theo said as he handed the camera off to Mattheo.  

You crawled towards him and tugged on his belt, but Theo shook his head. “There’s plenty of time for that later, cara mia. Right now, I want to eat your pussy until you cry.” 

You couldn’t help but flush at the vulgar words, which made Mattheo chuckle. “I think our little mouse likes the sound of that.” 

You didn’t have time to respond before Theo hauled you over his shoulder and placed you on the sofa. You bounced against the cushions, watching curiously as he spread your legs wide open. Theo raised the mask slightly and rested it over his brown waves before kissing you slowly.

“You taste so sweet,” he purred. “I bet your pussy is sweet like sugar too.”

From this vantage point, all you could see was the Ghostface mask. Theo tugged your panties off and discarded it over his shoulder. His cool breath fanned over your thighs as he trailed kisses between your legs. Theo took his time while he sucked and kissed and marked you up. You could feel his smirk against your skin when he finally reached your dripping core, his mouth hot and eager as he licked a stripe along your slit. You arched against his mouth, bucking your hips upwards shamelessly. 

Mattheo filmed you at your most vulnerable state — eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted in a silent moan, and fingers threaded through Theo’s hair. Your moans encouraged Theo to drive his tongue deeper past your folds, licking and sucking and devouring you in a way that almost seemed reverent. When Theo added his fingers into the mix, you were out of your mind with pleasure. 

Your pussy clenched as Theo curled his middle and pointer finger inside your walls. The soft pants and squelching sounds that filled the room was erotic, even more so as Mattheo filmed a close up of Theo feasting on your cunt. Your arousal dripped off his chin, but it didn’t deter him from driving you to the brink, his thumb firmly circling your clit to coax you towards release. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” Theo murmured. You gasped for air as he filled you with his fingers, pumping and scissoring until a familiar sensation began to build in your core. “You’re so fucking wet, bella. I can’t wait for you to cream my cock.” 

The obscene declaration pushed you over the edge. The climax swelled within you until you were awash with blinding heat. Your surroundings turned fuzzy as your senses were overloaded with pleasure. Despite the intensity of your orgasm, Theo showed no signs of slowing down. He kept circling your sensitive nub and licking your cunt in slow, purposeful strokes through your peak. 

You squirmed away, but Theo only held your hips down. “I’m not finished, little mouse.” He lifted his head, those clear blue eyes blown out and dilated. “Tell me, have you ever squirted before?” 

“No,” you admitted truthfully. 

Theo smirked. “We’ll have to change that.” 

With that, he pried your legs apart and dove back in. Theo was relentless in his pursuit. He ate pussy like he had something to prove. You felt overstimulated with all the new sensations and reactions he was bringing out of you, but you didn’t dare tell him to stop. Every time you tried to crawl away, Theo yanked you by the ankles and spanked your pussy for misbehaving. 

You were on your third orgasm when a pressure in your lower abdomen made you keen. “Theo, I can’t— I feel like I have to pee—”

“You won’t,” Theo reassured you. “Just let go, cara mia. I want you to squirt on my face.” 

“Fuck,” Mattheo cursed behind the camera. “I want that too.” 

Theo chuckled before speeding up his movements, fingering you rapidly until you were at the height of your peak once again. When he matched the rhythm with his tongue, you came with a cry. With tears streaming down your face, you stopped holding back the strange sensation and let go. You squirted all over Theo’s face, soaking him in your juices as he ate you through it. 

“So good,” Theo growled as he kissed you, the taste of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “You’re so fucking good.” 

You felt limp and boneless as he lifted you up and placed you in Mattheo’s arms. He cradled you against his chest and placed kisses all over your face, praising you for doing so well. You had no idea how much time had passed when Theo finally returned with a warm towel. He kneeled before you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“How are you doing, superstar?” 

“Good,” you murmured as he cleaned you up. “Really good.” 

“I think you wore her out, Theo.” 

You shook your head. “I’m fine, I promise. I don’t mind. I can— I can go again.” 

Theo chuckled, tilting your chin towards him. “Can’t get enough, can you?” 

Mattheo hugged you from behind and kissed your shoulder. “She can take it,” he said proudly. “The only question is, which one of us do you want first?” 

You glanced between Mattheo and Theo, biting your lip. A deep flush tinted your cheeks as they looked at you expectantly. 

“You never could choose between us,” Theo teased. “Let’s make a game out of it then. You have thirty seconds to find a hiding place. Whoever finds you first, gets to fuck you first.” 

Mattheo’s smirk was downright wicked. “Masks on.” 

Theo nodded in agreement before they both slipped on the Ghostface masks. You swallowed thickly, utterly turned on by their twisted little game. 

“How will I know which is which?” 

“That’s the beauty of it,” Theo said. “You won’t.” 

Mattheo leaned down, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “I’d start running if I were you, little mouse.” 

“Run, bella, run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. As the countdown started, you sprinted through the house and tried to find a place to hide. The living room was out of the question since the boys were currently occupying it. The kitchen was too exposed. The bedrooms too obvious. There was only one place in the house that they would never suspect. 

As you crept down the basement, you held your breath. It was dark and damp down here, the rows of wine racks crowding you in as you ventured further into the labyrinth. You hated coming down here. It always gave you the creeps, which is what made it the perfect hiding place. As you slotted yourself between vintages, you hunkered down and prepared to wait it out. 

When five minutes passed, you started to grow a little too confident in your choice. It would likely be the last place they checked. 

How wrong you were. 

As you peered through the racks, you heard the sound of metal clinking against the wine bottles. Two rows ahead, you saw Ghostface tapping his blade against the bottles as he searched for you in the dark.  

You backed up as Ghostface prowled closer, hoping to lose him as you weaved through the rows. One second you were watching the dark figure check your previous hiding place and the next second he was gone. You swiveled around in confusion and tried to track his last whereabouts. You didn’t have to look very far. 

“I guess I win,” said one of the boys. The voice changer was on again, so you couldn’t be sure who was underneath the mask, but that was part of the thrill. Ghostface backed you into the wall and cornered you until you had nowhere else to go. “I’ll take my prize now, little mouse.” 

You gasped as Ghostface picked you up and wrapped your legs around his midsection. He unzipped his pants in a haste before lifting up your skirt. His cock teased your entrance and he murmured profanities under his breath as you watched him slowly push in. It was a stretch to even get the tip in and you took gasping breaths as his thick, long cock breached your walls. 

“Oh fuck, s’too big,” you keened. Despite the lubrication charm he cast, it was still a struggle as he thrust in. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” 

“We’ll make it fit,” Ghostface grunted. “You’re gonna take every inch of me like the good little slut that you are. Do you understand?” 

Tears welled in your eyes, but you nodded in agreement. You were too cockdrunk to argue. Ghostface eased the last few inches in, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. You’ve never felt so full, so stuffed to the brim. 

“That’s fucking right,” chuckled Ghostface. “Take it, little mouse. Take this fucking cock.” 

You were nearly out of your mind when he pulled out and slammed back in. A choked sob escaped your throat. You weren’t used to being stretched so wide and deep. It felt so fucking good. 

“Yeah, you like that?” mocked Ghostface. “Such an innocent face, but you love getting fucked like a whore, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, yes, yes…”

A hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your oxygen. You grasped Ghostface’s wrist and smiled as you did so. He might’ve taken off his rings, but you knew it was Theo. 

“You’re so big, Teddy,” you groaned. “I knew it. I knew you’d feel this good. I knew you’d split me apart just like this.” 

“Che cazzo,” Theo moaned as your pussy clenched around his cock. “How’d you know, bella?” 

“You always burn your fingers when you get too high,” you explained. Theo watched as you kissed his fingertips and held his gaze as you sucked on his thumb. “I know you, Teddy. I know both my boys.” 

At that, Theo fucked you even harder. His balls slapped against your ass with every thrust. There was something animalistic about the way he moved. It was like seeing a whole new side of him. You decided that you liked this version of Theo. The version that took what he wanted, when he wanted, and made no apologies for it. 

“That’s sweet,” drawled Mattheo. You looked up to find him filming the whole thing. You had no idea how long he’d been there, but you were glad that he’d finally joined. 

Theo smirked, his thrusts turning shallow. “You should let Matty have a turn,” he murmured. “He’s been waiting so patiently after all.” 

Mattheo set the camera by the windowsill and prowled towards you. “That doesn’t mean I should get all the fun.” Theo set you down on shaky legs as you looked between your boys. “Who says you have to choose? You can have the best of both worlds, princess.” 

Mattheo directed you to bend over one of the stools by the window while Theo positioned himself in front of you. “Be a good girl and suck Theo off while I fuck you.” 

“Oh,” you murmured, your pussy wet and your head fuzzy at the idea of taking them both at the same time. “O-okay.” 

“You’re our superstar, remember?” Mattheo teased as he smacked your ass. “So show the camera what you can do.” 

The encouragement urged you on as you pumped Theo’s cock. He cursed in Italian when your wet mouth wrapped around him, your juices still covering his hard length. You began working him with your mouth as Mattheo mounted you from behind. The stretch made you moan. Theo gripped your hair in response and bucked into your mouth. 

You couldn’t keep track of the pain and pleasure as Mattheo fucked you from behind and Theo abused your throat. All that mattered was that you felt full on both ends, floating on cloud nine while you were stuffed to the brim. Both boys worshiped your body. Mattheo trailed kisses down your spine while Theo massaged your tits. 

Every now and then, Mattheo smacked your ass to demand your attention. He even bit down on your ass cheek when you got impatient and tried to grind down on him. Mattheo set a punishing pace as his fingers dug into your hips, marking your skin for days to come. You’d wear the bruises like a trophy. 

“Wait.” Mattheo slowed his movements and Theo cocked his head as you looked up at him. “I want— I want to try something—”

”What is it, princess?” asked Mattheo. 

“I want you both,” you whispered shyly. 

Theo tilted your chin up. “Don’t get all shy on us now, bella,” he drawled with a smirk. “You can’t say you want to take us both and then get all embarrassed about it.” 

Mattheo chuckled and patted your ass. “Theo’s right, baby. You need to own it.” 

You cleared your throat, shaking off the nerves. “I want you both inside me,” you said confidently. “At the same time.” 

The boys smiled as they slipped their masks back on. “Your wish is our command, little mouse.” 

With a flash, the three of you apparated to the bedroom. Mattheo pulled you into his lap, stroking your back as he slithered in. Theo filmed you with the camera. 

“Deep breaths, sweetheart,” Mattheo murmured. He sounded dazed and distant, barely hanging on to reality. You controlled your breathing and relaxed your walls, which allowed him to slip in easier. “Oh fuck, yeah, just like that…” 

Behind you, Theo cast another lubrication charm and warmed your puckering hole up with his fingers. He took his time to make sure you were nice and pliant, soft moans muffled as Mattheo lifted up his mask and tongue kissed you. His curls felt like silk between your fingers as you continued to make out sloppily. 

Not one to be left out, Theo turned your chin for a kiss that left you lightheaded before leaning over and sharing a dirty, filthy kiss with Mattheo. You watched as they made out, heat spreading through your veins at the sight. Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly get wetter. 

Mattheo squeezed your hip. “I can feel your pussy clenching around me,” he said with an amused smirk. “You’re fucking filthy, baby. I think you’re ready for Theo, aren’t you?” 

You nodded excitedly, flashing your doe eyed stare at Theo. “Please, Teddy.” 

Theo smiled. “How could I say no to that?” 

It was a tight fit. Tighter than you’ve ever taken before. You felt like you were being stretched to your limit as Theo eased his way in to join Mattheo. It was hard to get air in as you buried your face in Mattheo’s neck, gripping the sheets for dear life. 

Theo pumped slowly, letting you get used to the sensation. Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and shoulder, his tongue swirling against your nipple before he took it into his mouth. He massaged and licked and sucked while Theo picked up the pace. 

“How does that feel, bella?” Theo asked. 

“Really fucking good,” you hummed, your whole body vibrating with pleasure. “Don’t stop, Teddy.”

”Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

When Mattheo began to thrust upwards, you started to feel lightheaded. Your head was in the clouds while your body experienced euphoria. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god…” you moaned. “So good.” 

“Yeah?” Mattheo growled against your ear as he thrust in sharply. “You like being full of us, huh? You like letting your best friends split you apart like this, baby?” 

“Yes, god…” you blubbered, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I fucking love when you’re both inside me.” 

Theo groaned. “Merda, you’re going to make me cum.” 

“Do it,” you breathed. “Please, please, I want you both to fill me up.” 

“Merlin, you’re a fucking dream,” murmured Mattheo as he circled your clit. 

Theo and Mattheo synced up their rhythm, filling you up simultaneously. There wasn’t a single thought in your mind besides chasing after your release. When you felt yourself getting close, Theo yanked you by the hair and turned the camera on all three of you. 

“Give us the money shot,” Theo said through his mask. “Cum for us, little mouse.” 

As Mattheo stimulated your already sensitive nub, you lost yourself to the climax. It hit you all at once. Your vision went fuzzy as you came with a cry. Mattheo cursed when you creamed him, triggering his own orgasm. You could feel him filling you to the brim. The only tether to reality you had left was Theo’s hands gripping your hips as the camera tumbled on the mattress. 

Mattheo picked it up and filmed you getting railed by Theo, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his thrusts grew rushed and sloppy. The camera captured Ghostface cumming inside of you before Mattheo panned down to where the two of them dripped down your thighs. 

“Look at her,” Mattheo murmured in awe. “She’s our perfect little superstar.” 

Your legs wobbled beneath you as Theo pulled off his mask. As gentle as possible, he scooped you up and cradled you into his chest. Theo kissed you softly, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Yes she is,” he declared proudly. “You did so well, bella. Let your boys take care of you now, okay?” 

You nodded, dazed as Mattheo set the camera down and brushed your hair back. “Okay.” 

As Mattheo got the bath started and Theo carried you over to the tub, you sighed in satisfaction. “Teddy? Matty?” 

Both boys turned towards you, concern written all over their faces. It was sweet how much they cared, how they took it upon themselves to look after you. Even before tonight, the two of them had always been attuned to your needs. Just like now.

“I think I have a favorite movie now.” 

The two of them broke out into matching grins. Theo carefully lowered you into the warm water before climbing in. Mattheo eagerly joined, sandwiching you between your two favorite boys and ending that night the same way it started. As Theo shampooed your hair, Mattheo wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek. 

“If you’re good,” he drawled, a mischievous twinkle glittering in those big, brown eyes. “Maybe we’ll make a sequel.” 

[alexlwrites]

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:  The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.

Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m truly sorry for this sad excuse of an update.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

(<<< part one)

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again” Jane’s voice rang through the phone as you walked down the streets towards your desired coffee spot.

You also couldn’t believe you were doing that again. You tried your best to live your life with no regrets, but men made it very hard.

“Have you seen him since he fled the crime scene?”

“Stop calling it a crime scene” you snapped.

“Well, have you?”

Your silence was enough of an answer. No, you had not seen or heard from Jungkook since he ran away from your bedroom in the dead of night, leaving behind only the smell of cologne and, funnily enough, a single sock. When you woke up that day to an empty bed, sheets crumbled and a mattress indented on the side where he had slept, all you could muster was a tired sigh of disappointment. 

And to be completely honest, you were disappointed with yourself, not Jungkook. You expected nothing less than a quick escape of him. But you should’ve known better than to hope for anything. Despite everything, you were still an idealist at heart and you thought that maybe just this once…

You shook your head obstinately. You had learned early on that no good would come from moping around for men who would never once feel any regret for their thoughtless actions and if your pain were to be always one sided, then it was better not to feel any at all. Not to dwell on it, move on, learn from it and be better. Or be worse, sometimes, as self-improvement was not always your goal.

Sometimes, you chose to listen to the tiny revengeful angel on your shoulder - who kind of sounded like Taylor Swift - that screamed for violence and vindication.

As your failed relationships started to pile up, you did reach a point where you had to wonder if you were the problem, as it was the canonical event of all 20 something women. But observation, therapy, critical thinking and hereditary pettiness brought you to the decision that it was not, in fact, your fault. At least not all of it. 

With that in mind, you left only the smallest of time slots in your booked and busy schedule to ponder and grieve over the fickle nature of boys’ interests. You had better, more important things to do, such as mindlessly scroll through Minecraft/AITA videos and save pilates routines that you were never gonna do. 

Still, in an experience intrinsically feminine, you allowed yourself a little treat to cope with the slight burn of despondency in the back of your mind. 

And so you directed yourself to the bougie coffee house near campus, hoping to drown your sorrows with an aggressively sweet and overly caffeinated drink. 

“You should slash his tires”

“Jane, please, we have talked about this.”

“You should totally slash his fucking tires!"

"Saying it louder is not gonna make me agree with you! Jane…"

Suddenly your eyes found Jungkook's across the room filled to the brim with depressed, financially irresponsible students, making you pause and hold back the urge to curl your lips in distaste. It bothered you that even with scared eyes as big as saucers and hunched shoulders to appear smaller, Jungkook still managed to look good. 

But you knew better than to let him know how much his presence and pretty face annoyed you. Boys like Jungkook only cared about having an impact on people’s life, very rarely caring if it was good or bad. He wanted a reaction out of you and you learned better than to give those away so carelessly.

So you frowned and looked away, the words practiced on your lips as you said “Some guy is staring at me.”

Jane laughed loudly on the phone “You’re a psycho, you know that?”

“I don’t know who it is, Jane, some dude” you stole a quick glance at him, finding vengeful glee at his shocked expression.

“Send me a pic of his reaction, I’m posting it on TikTok.”

You continued playing your part, ignoring your sister’s interruptions as you usually did “Of course I’m carrying a taser, Jane, I’m not an animal…”

“I’ll give you 5 bucks to tase him.”

“You know what, this coffee is not even worth the visual harassment, God I hate men…”

You walked out of the coffee house, hand empty but with a fulfilled sick sense of accomplishment as you stepped out into the street with a shit-eating grin.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” Jane said and you could hear the smile in her voice. Out of your two sisters, Jane was never the one to tell you to not do something, preferring to let you make your own mistakes.

And boy, did you. 

You left your big, beautiful, tattooed mistake behind you, ready to move on to something less prone to disappointment, such as fictional men and your Stardew Valley husband “Dont worry” you told your sister “I don’t.”.

—

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, left eye twitching slightly at your unbothered expression.

After your confusing exit from the coffee shop and a good amount of jabs from his friends, Jungkook had to hunt you down across campus, finding you sitting under a tree with a book in your hands, looking way too peaceful for someone who just had humiliated him.

You looked down at your book with an arched eyebrow “Kegels, clearly. Why?”

“No, I mean…” Jungkook’s frustration was rising by the second, the vein on his neck jumping out “Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

You frowned.

 “Do I know you?” you asked, face doubtful.

“We have classes together?”

You blinked, impassive.

“We went on a date?”

A head shake.

“We slept together!”

“Nope, can’t say it rings any bells.”

That’s it. Jungkook was actually convinced you were clinically insane. 

“How can you not remember?”

“How can I remember something that never happened?”

“But it did! You’re crazy! I chased you for weeks!”

You smiled, a trap.

“So, you're, like, in love with me?” you ask, tone condescending. 

Jungkook scoffed and you weren’t sure if it was at the idea of love or loving you. “No, of course not.”

“So in this dream scenario of yours, we had sex but we weren’t together?”

“Trust me, this” he gestured between the two of you “is no dream scenario.”

“Well, aren’t you a charmer” you crossed your arms in front you, defensive “Let me get this straight. You, allegedly, chased me for weeks, but don’t really like me. Then, we had casual, out-of-relationship sex and then what? You banged my head against the headboard so hard I completely forgot about it? Your story is full of holes, my dude.”

You had to fight back the urge to smirk, energy spiking from feeding off of Jungkook’s stupefied confusion.

Nail in the coffin, you shrugged, turning your eyes back to your book “Maybe you weren’t that memorable and my mind deleted you like a childhood trauma.”

A slight left eye spasm was all the reaction you got at first, evolving to the pursing of pouty lips and the clenching of fists.

“You are insane” he said at last after seconds of turning clogs in his barely filled mind.

“Finally you said something true.”

Jungkook was equally bewildered and furious. He didn’t know what your deal was or what you were getting out of this, but your refusal to admit you had sex pissed him off deeply considering how much time and effort he put into getting you together.

“Also, I have to ask” you continued, clearly not done with your pursuit of driving him up the wall “what was your goal with this conversation? Chasing me for weeks to then sleep with me and then come here and tell me you’re not actually interested in me, but being upset when I don’t remember something that didn’t happen… What’s the point?”

Jungkook paused. Truly, he didn’t have much of an end goal in mind, actions fueled only by a bruised ego and a childish, borderline pathological need to prove himself.

When he didn’t answer, you stood up and gathered your things, keeping your head down to hide your poorly concealed satisfaction “I’ll let you ponder on that” you said “Don’t worry about reaching out with an answer, though.”

Finally, you looked up at him, face masked with faux awkwardness. “Anyway. Nice to meet you, I guess? No, actually, not really, this was weird as shit. You seem to have some things to figure out. Get help and take care, my dude.”

And so you left, leaving behind only a cloud of your bergamot perfume and a perplexed Jungkook blinking owlishly. 

There was a sudden influx of thoughts rushing through his usually much less busy mind, the general tone of confusion ringing amongst humiliation and frustration.

When Jungkook first set his greedy eyes on you, he had an inkling that you’d be a handful and in the beginning, you truly were. You took pleasure in making everything much more difficult for him, running from his presence like the plague and approaching the whole subject of him like one would the subject of warts - reluctantly and with caution.

And if he were honest, he wasn’t too sure on why he insisted, but one would be surprised at how far Jungkook would escalate things out of spite and resentment.

It was that same sick combination of flavors that drove him insane for weeks, moving him to pester you until you gave him a chance. And he took it, lord, did he take it.

That night, he made every possible effort to please you, cloaked in his best, non-ranch stained clothes and best non-arrogant behavior.

And when morning came and he opened up his eyes before you did, tired out from the epitome of his bestest behavior, there was a moment of quiet as he watched you eyelids flutter delicately, soft arm draped lightly over his waist.

The night before had been… Fun, he thought, even before you had reached your bedroom. You were weird and used a bunch of words he didn’t know, but you also made him laugh and listened to him babbling about his interest without once looking bored, even going as far as asking questions about his farfetched MCU theories.

And despite your many (too many to count, insurmountable really) differences, you had… Chemistry, one could call it. Thick chemistry, palpable tension, pushing you towards each other despite your previous attempts to go the other way.

But no amount of chemistry could break Jungkook’s routine as inertia pushed him out of your bed, practiced steps light as feathers as he escaped your apartment with one last look to your sleeping form and somehow one less sock on his feet.

And as he left, there was an undiagnosed pounding in his heart he tried to chalk off as the result of his Dorito and monster drink based diet, but his eyes kept flashing back to where you rested even when he was miles away.

He tried to make sense of your persistent presence in the back of his mind. You were cool, he’d give you that. Hot too. But it didn’t matter how your body fit his like they were manufactured together or how your passive aggressive way of flirting (or insulting, he had a hard time telling them apart with you) never failed to steal a snort from his lips. And yeah, it was kind of nice when you called him cute everytime he didn’t understand something you said. It brought a blush to his cheeks and wild butterflies to his stomach, because… Well, no one had ever called him cute after middle school. Hot? Yes. Sexy? Once a week. Biggest dick ever? Yes, both meanings.

But not cute. And deep down, under layers of aggressively oversized shirts and muscles… Jungkook kind of liked being cute.

Jungkook shook that thought away. Despite all that, you were a point he had to make.

And he did! Point proven and undisputed, up until you looked at him like he was a silly little kid throwing a tantrum (which he kind of was) and questioned him and his sanity,

But Jungkook was obstinate and, even more, the sorest of losers. He had proven himself once and would again! He was a man on a mission, he decided, watching you walk away from him while mouthing the words “I’ll pray for you!”. And the mission was to either send you into a psychiatric hospital or get you back into his bed.

And if the butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly at that second prospect, he didn’t allow himself to ponder on it for a single second.

°•. ✿ .•°

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My taglists are open! Click here to be added <3

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[theragethatisdesire]

pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)

pairing: reader x jean kirschtein

wc: 4.6k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie

this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3

-

-> be there in 5 babe :)

You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.

Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.

The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.

You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.

“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”

“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.

“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.

You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”

Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”

You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”

“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”

“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.

“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”

Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”

“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”

His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”

“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”

“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.

“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.

“That it?”

“I guess.”

“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.

“Yeah.”

“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”

Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”

“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”

That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”

Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”

“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”

“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”

That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”

“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”

“No.”

“Submissive, then.”

“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Already told you about the handcuffs.”

“I bet you have a praise kink.”

That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”

Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”

“Sure.”

“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”

“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.

“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.

“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.

“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”

“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.

“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”

“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.

“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”

You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.

A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.

“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”

He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.

Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”

You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”

Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”

You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.

“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”

Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”

Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.

“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”

You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.

You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.

“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”

You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.

“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”

You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.

“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”

“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.

Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.

“Need something?”

“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.

“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.

“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”

Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”

“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”

“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.

“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.

“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”

You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:

“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”

Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”

“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.

“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”

“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.

“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”

The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.

Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”

“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”

“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”

You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.

“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”

You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.

You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.

“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.

“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”

“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”

“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”

You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.

“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.

“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”

You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”

“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”

“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”

Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”

“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.

“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”

You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.

“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”

“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”

“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.

“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”

“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes. 

“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”

“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”

“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”

That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.

Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.

“You okay?”

You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”

Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”

Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”

“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”

You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”

“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”

Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”

“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”

[cure-icy-writes]

i think the reason i like the murderbot diaries so much is because the dystopia feels very real and relevant in a way that no other "oppressive government fearmongering" has, and because murderbot is such a compelling protagonist.

this is an autistic person who is struggling and angry and terrible at having emotions. it lives in a capitalist hellscape where people are disposable. it's traumatized as hell, but it's easier to consider itself disposable than confront the terrifying reality of personhood.

(it confronts the terrifying reality of personhood.)

it likes escaping into fiction. it has a fucked up relationship with pain and its own body. and it reads so strongly as disability coding to me, how it doesn't see the bullets or the chunks missing as horror but merely annoyance. it's fundamentally different from those around it, in ways that they struggle to understand. (they make a distinct effort to understand.)

this is an autistic person who is not like you, who suffered in ways that you cannot understand, in ways that would horrify you. this is just another tuesday.

this world is not kind. there is legal fine text that destroys lives and there is hereditary indenture and contract labor where you're forced to still pay for preventative medical care out of your paycheck and no one says slavery, but everyone knows what it means.

these people are kind. they will watch your favorite shows to help understand you, they will forge documents to give abandoned people their freedom, they will allow you to be near them because they like you. these people are proof that there's love in the world, and you can come out of your shell if you are ready to see yourself as a person.

science fiction is one of the genres that has the potential to be amazing, but is quite often just plain shitty to disabled people. and, to people in general? "oooooo look how scary it is, people have all their basic needs fulfilled by technology!" when technological advances are what gave housewives the time they needed to actually get jobs and put together the feminist movements, when this new technology that the narrative regards with such disdain could provide disabled people with newfound mobility and independence.

it speaks of a truly dismal view of humanity, the belief that without strict labor under capitalism to keep us all in line, we would just fall prey to our vices. and I think it also speaks to a loathing of one's self, to think that humans are not capable of self regulation, to think that pain and suffering and punishment are somehow moral and virtuous. that humans need to be punished constantly, that suffering will bring them closer to something like god, to something like goodness.

but murderbot doesn't do that. murderbot says, "i have seen humans do horrible awful stupid things. they can't be trusted with weapons or security and they shoot me all the time and it sucks. but they make stories and art. the people in the entertainment media gave me the tools to contextualize my own emotions. they are my coworkers. i don't care about them. i got shot in the back protecting them but i didn't care about them. okay fine maybe i care a little. they're annoying. i'll eviscerate anyone who hurts them. they're mine."

[bathylychnops]

idecided hesgot hypertropia strabismus andlike apparently itsmore noticeable with stress andlike he gets SO STRESSED sobad that hemight pass out allthetime! so ithink hisis more subtle when hes like calm andnot prey animal mode and lalalala

italso means igetto draw him with glasses sometimesss now like the correcting glasses hehasto wearthrm sometimes lalala

ilike himm iwas thinking aboutthis it works realluy well with also how his cousin priya has a lazy eye like maybe this kind of thing is hereditary!

[saintkaylaa]

Dad!Choso Headcanon MDNI

Papa!Choso

He definitely didn’t even think he could reproduce. Much less get you pregnant within the first year of his existence. He thought that the reproduction of curses was only something his mother could do, not a hereditary trait.

So he ran away with you. Far away to the country side of Japan. Leaving all of the chaos of what was happening in the jujutsu world behind because it wasn't his world anymore. It was you and the little life growing inside you.

You both changed your last names. Hid that you two knew or were a part of the jujutsu world. Your lives were completely turned upside down to ensure this baby had a chance. That your family had a chance.

Choso, especially, did everything he could to ensure your safety. You were not going to meet his mother's same fate, and he would be damned if his children met the same fate as him and his brothers.

This was going to be different. This family was going to be his and his alone to take care of. To protect.

He was no longer “older brother” onii-cha first; he was “papa” first and an older brother second. Regardless, he was still the leader of a family. His family. Nothing was more important to him than family.

Dad!Choso is more affectionately addressed as Papa!Choso

When he got you pregnant, the only name he used to address you was "mama." Your name too when it came to more serious matters, but 90% of the time you were always "mama”.

“You feeling okay today, mama?”

“Hey mama, do you know where my hair ties are?”

“You’re glowing today, mama.”

“Fuck, you feel so good, mama.”

"Oooh, mama, let’s have another baby.”

“Fuck mama, just like that, squirt on me again.”

Pregnant!You had his mommy kink on high.

Choso is 1000% a girl dad. Never knowing a love quite as powerful as when his first daughter was born. He was hooked. He was completely devoted to the little girl in his arms, who held his entire heart. He finally understood what it was to be human. Finally he understood the depths of love and devotion.

This love resulted in five more daughters, despite the first being an absolute miracle. After his second, you and him were both sure that he was just as human as a curse, but Choso was relentless. He wanted a big family, and after you saw the way he was with your firstborn, you wanted the same thing. You had always known how wonderful a brother he was, so why would fatherhood be any different? He was perfect. Your kids were perfect, and after the 6th daughter in a row, you wanted to at least take a break from being pregnant, and Choso understood that, so naturally, your 7th child was born a year later.

A son.

Choso was the eldest brother of the cursed womb death paintings. Half human. Half curse. But when he fell in love with you and reproduced with you, his children took on a similar concept as the death paintings. All of his children were mostly humans with sorcerer abilities or maybe even curses. Who really knew? Choso's genetic makeup was as much a mystery to you as your kids were. You both were not completely sure.

Choso was no longer the eldest brother of the death paintings. He was now the father of the seven virtues.

Ren’Ai the daughter of Love

Hikaeme the daughter of Humility

Emika the daughter of Kindness

Kokumei the daughter of Diligence

Jihi the daughter of Charity

Zenshin the daughter of Temperance

Nintai the son of Patience

— ଘ(੭ ˘ ᵕ˘)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟᵕ꒳ᵕ~

I do not own the rights to Choso. I do reserve the right to the idea of Choso being the father of the 7 virtues and the 7 virtues being personified and sorcerers. Please do not steal, translate, or repost. Reblogs are appreciated ♡

[prismatoxic]

(this post features transmasc chilchuck! if that's not a headcanon you enjoy you may look the other way)

chilchuck returns to kahka brud after laios's coronation, but as he'd somewhat suspected, things with his wife don't work out. returning to merini, he reunites with laios, and without a party to compromise and no existing romantic relationships for either of them, they finally confront things they've both been feeling for a while.

chilchuck never did anything drastic to prevent himself from conceiving more kids after puckpatti was born, and as he and his wife's relationship grew distant, sex wasn't an active factor anyway. so he's maybe... not as careful as he should be, when he and laios fall into bed together.

winding up pregnant, chilchuck finds himself unwilling to get rid of it, and just as quickly finds that laios doesn't want him to either. scandalous though chilchuck is sure their relationship would be to the kingdom, laios seems unconcerned, and is far more invested in being with chilchuck.

fentripp is larger than any of chilchuck's girls were, but to laios, he seems so small. chilchuck frets about him being late to all of his developmental milestones, but to laios, he's meeting them all earlier than he thought kids did. he's small for a tall-man, but big for a half-foot; his senses are sharp, though, and his mana pool is reasonably deep, so he did get some benefits from both.

fentripp is two years old when laios proposes, taking chilchuck entirely off guard. having an illicit relationship (and half-breed child) is one thing, but officiating it...? making chilchuck his spouse and fentripp his successor? chilchuck is baffled by the choice, but to laios, it's the most natural decision to make in the world.

as he ages and discovers his aptitude for magic + grows ever closer to his doting aunt falin (whom he idolizes), fentripp decides he wants to be a mage. like falin, he uses the gnome magic system, going so far as to turn up his nose when aunt marcille tries to teach him anything from the elven side. spirits are his friends, not his tools; it's very important to him.

laios's curse isn't hereditary, and fentripp can freely interact with the kingdom's monsters. it may not be what laios had always dreamed of for himself, but seeing his son adopt his enthusiasm for monsters is deeply heartwarming, all the same. (chilchuck wishes fen would maybe be a little more careful, but at least if laios comes running, the monsters scatter.)

he's a beloved child, cared for deeply by all of laios and chilchuck's friends and family. he's also, frequently and with little remorse, a handful--but in a soft, friendly way that makes it hard to stay mad at him. (chilchuck tries. the kid needs some discipline. but he's got laios's eyes, and does a great impression of laios's kicked puppy face, and "a troll will get you" doesn't work so well when his half-sisters have been fondly referring to him as a troll since they met him.)

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 7 (Yandere Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

All the other parts

@orioncipher said that Sabo is basically getting a second cat to keep his first cat company when he travels....and that's exactly right! Two meow meows on a deserted island! Let's see how they do together :3

SPOILERS FOR EGGHEAD

~~~

Your POV

Maybe it would have been better if Sabo had killed you after all. That would have been a less humiliating circumstance than Sabo kissing you in front of Ace and practically skipping out the door, leaving you alone with his brother for who knows how long. Your face burned with embarrassment as Ace looked you over with a smirk.

“So, you and Sabo, huh?” he said, talking with his mouth full. Yep, Sabo should have killed you.

“Uh, it’s not really like that -” you said, trying to get your blush to recede. Your statement only made Ace look more smug as his smile widened.

“I think it’s exactly like that,” he replied, “I’m sure Sabo’ll fill you in eventually.” You frowned, you didn’t like the implication that they knew things you didn’t. You didn’t answer, but also didn’t resume eating. Between Sabo leaving suddenly and the kiss you still felt lingering on your lips, your appetite was gone. You took your cup to drink some water but your hand was shaking so hard you were spilling. Waiting a moment, you took a deep breath and were able to calm down enough to hold your cup and drink.

“What’s with the shaking?” Ace asked, pointing towards your hand with his fork.

“Nothing,” you said tersely, getting up from the table. You weren’t in the mood to deal with Ace’s rude behavior. 

“You gonna finish that?” Ace said, gesturing towards your plate. You pushed your nearly full plate of food onto his, dumping it into the sink when you were done. You’d get to the dishes later, you thought, you didn’t want to be around Ace and his teasing right now.

Sabo had told you to stay in the house until the ship was gone, so even though you wanted to be alone, you still didn’t feel safe ignoring his rule. Walking up the stairs, you went to your room to calm down until the coast was clear. Shutting the door behind you, you went to lay on the bed, and saw a note had been left for you on your pillow case. Turning it over in your hands, you saw Sabo had written his nickname for you on the front, as if there would be anyone else in the room.

One thing was for certain - Sabo had the most beautiful penmanship you’d ever seen. He must have spent hours and hours practicing to achieve handwriting like that. The only time you’d seen anything of a similar caliber was when you’d gotten a letter asking a few follow up questions to an article you’d published. The article itself hadn’t garnered a lot of interest from the scientific community, so you were especially surprised to receive queries from a Warlord. It had been a very esoteric article about the overlap of lineage factors and hereditary conditions and their effect on idiopathic diseases. The letter had been professional and the Warlord had clearly understood your research, so you answered the questions to the best of your abilities. Shortly thereafter, you’d been transferred and begun working on sequencing new Lineage factors unlike any you’d seen before. 

You opened Sabo’s letter, quickly reading through the brief contents.

Dearest Sunny,

I am loath to leave you so soon after our arrival to the island, but I am unable to be absent from the Revolutionary Army any longer. I know this is yet another abrupt change for you, but you will have to be the strong and brave woman I know you are. You have nothing to fear on the island and Ace will help you with anything you may need. He has a baby Den Den that can be used to contact me. Please call at any time of day or night, I would delight in hearing your voice.

There are warmer clothes in the trunk at the foot of the bed, use them in my stead. 

I look forward to seeing more of your pressed flowers, talking together about your findings, and spending our evenings under the stars together. I will be back as soon as I am able.

Love,

Sabo 

Reading through the letter a few times in a row, you had to set it down before you shredded it to pieces. The information Sabo provided was helpful but made you feel worse than you did when Ace was making fun of you. Sabo’s letter was obviously romantic and made your life sound idyllic. Flower picking, dates under the stars, cuddling together for warmth…your face regained its reddened hue you’d worked to lose. You had to take a few deep breaths to keep from screaming in frustration. Not for the first time, you wished that your Devil Fruit was destructive, explosive, powerful, anything that you could channel your rage. But no, all you had was making small things larger. Flopping back on the bed with a huff, you balled your hands and covered your eyes.

When had you accepted that Sabo had kidnapped you? Why were you allowing him to manipulate you into complacency? Sure, the first few days had been fun, especially after you were so seasick. But now you could see things as they really were. You had to get off the island, get away from Sabo, and get back to the Marines, no matter what. You weren’t sure how you’d do it yet, but you’d overcome a lot in your life and you weren’t going to let Sabo lure you into contentment with fake love. Yes, you’d had a good vacation but now it was time to get back to work.

You stayed in the room for hours, trying to think of ways to escape the island and its fraternal inhabitants. Based on the angle of the sun you thought a large enough amount of time had passed, so you went back downstairs to find out if the boat had left. Ace was sitting on the front porch of the house, leaning back against the siding, eating sunflower seeds and spitting out the shells.

“Ace, is the boat gone?” you asked from the nearest window, still inside the house. You hoped he would clean the shells but didn’t have high hopes.

“Oh. Yeah. Like a few hours ago. Thought you were sleeping or something,” Ace said, shrugging. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you fought the urge to say something snarky to him. Irritating the only other person on the island - especially one with a Den Den - would not work in your favor to escape. 

“Thanks,” was all you said, moving away from the window to get your shoes. Getting your sweatshirt and your notebook, you set out for some nature time. Maybe looking at plants and walking around would clear your mind and help you think of new ideas.

A few hours later and you were no closer to an idea of escape than you were before. Sabo had trapped you quite well, you had to hand it to him. It seemed like the only way you were going to get off the island was if Sabo came back and took you with him. You’d have to work on convincing him to let you off the island, to take you to the RA Headquarters. Which raised another problem - you were a bad actress and a worse liar. You sighed as you headed back to the house to make some dinner, your stomach rumbling. You hadn’t eaten since the failed breakfast this morning, you’d forgotten in your anguish.

Looking through the pantry, you saw a lot of ingredients but were unsure what to make. You were good at cooking three dishes, one of which was the buns and eggs you ate for breakfast. The other two were spicy seafood fried rice and gumbo, both of which involved fresh caught fish. Maybe Ace would be helpful and catch some fish for the next day, because you certainly couldn’t catch anything. You decided to make gumbo and leave out the fish for today. When Ace resurfaced, you’d ask him about fishing gear. You hauled out a big pot for the gumbo, you were hoping to make enough for a few days so you didn’t have to keep cooking.

After the gumbo was finally completed, you plated yourself a bowl and sat down at the table. Stirring the stew with your spoon, you tried to make yourself eat a few bites. Even though you hadn’t eaten all day, your stomach felt like it was completely full of your overwhelming anxiety. Still, it wasn’t half bad, so you forced yourself to eat a little bit. You laughed a little to yourself as you got up to get a glass of water to drink. While Sabo was there you hadn’t had to get yourself anything during mealtime, he was as attentive to you as a waiter. Sitting back down and resuming eating, the door banged open, revealing a sleepy looking and sunburnt Ace. 

“Whatcha make?” Ace yelled while walking towards the table. 

“Gumbo, want some?” you asked. You wondered if he was a Zoan bloodhound the way he found food.

“Sure, smells good,” Ace replied, already rummaging in the kitchen for a plate and eating utensil. As he kept piling his bowl higher and higher, your eyes widened. You thought you made enough food for a few days, but you’d forgotten Ace’s appetite. He sat down at the bar, one stool in between you, and started shoveling it in. “S’no fish?” Ace said, while showing you his full mouth. Grimacing, you looked down at your plate trying to ignore his messy eating habits.

“This dish needs seafood. Can you go fishing and get some? I’m not really a good fisherwoman,” you explained. You didn’t mind eating the dish with only meat in it, but it really did taste better with shrimp or some kind of crustacean. Ace hummed but neither agreed nor disagreed. Things became quiet between you two as Ace ate and you resumed your thoughts. Sighing again, you dumped the remainder of your plate on Ace’s as you had earlier in the day. Ace grunted a thanks. You hoped this wasn’t going to be a recurring theme of your stay you didn’t want Sabo bothering you about losing weight again. You went up to your room, hopefully to fall asleep fairly soon as you had the previous few days.

Except, you didn’t. Dusk had come and gone, and you laid in the bed tossing and turning. Sabo had left and so had your habit of falling easily to sleep. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but curling into Sabo’s warmth was so pleasant, and it had such a calming effect on you that it put you right to sleep every night. But now he wasn’t here and even with the extra clothes from the foot of the bed you were cold. More than that, your mind was still whirling with thoughts on how to get back to where you belonged. Your hands were shaking and you kept turning your pillow over again and again. Eventually, you gave up and decided to do what you always did when you couldn’t sleep- read anything scientific.

Covering yourself with a blanket, you went downstairs to read on the couch. You forgot to bring a book from Sabo’s room upstairs, so you went into the office. You knew there were books there, you’d seen them during the one time you’d gone in. Sabo had left many papers and books on his desk and you quickly scanned them to see if there was anything of interest. The pile of papers were academic articles, you discovered after picking one up and reading the title. They all seemed to be about lineage factors, genetic sequencing, and devil fruits, you realized after fanning them out on the desk. You sat down on his chair, spreading the articles out further to read them. At least you’d found your reading for the night. And it was all in your area of expertise.

Sabo POV

Sabo hadn’t heard from Ace since he set sail, which wasn’t anything new. Sabo often didn’t hear from Ace at all when he left the island, no matter how long he was gone. Occasionally Ace would call with shopping requests, mostly related to food, but that was about it. His brother was content to wallow in his feelings day in and day out with no interruptions from Sabo. Sabo for his part didn’t often call Ace, wanting to respect his privacy and his wishes. But now things were different, you were there. Sabo was nervous that you would be anxious without him there to smooth things over, that maybe you were as tightly wound as when he found you. So, in the early evening on the fourth day he was gone, Sabo called Ace. 

He was laying on the bed in his cabin, the very same one you had once slept on, holding your old bandana in his hand. He didn’t exactly lie to you, he burned most of your old uniform, but he’d kept the bandana as a reminder of the first time he’d seen you out of code in that warm jail cell. The memory of sweat dripping down your chest with your opened shirt had made him hard even though he knew you didn’t mean for the scene to be erotic. He’d already made notes of clothes he wanted to buy for you now that he was off the island, including a new belt. He saw you had been wearing Ace’s, and even though Ace was his brother, it still made Sabo jealous to see it slung on your hips. 

Puru puru puru puru puru puru puru puru puru

“Yo,” Ace said, picking up the phone.

“Hi, Ace. I was just calling -” the snail now had Ace’s smug smile stretched across its features. Sabo wanted to punch it but knew it wouldn’t deliver the feeling to his brother.

“ - to ask about your girlfriend,” Ace said, finishing Sabo’s sentence. Sabo blinked slowly, he really couldn’t kill his brother. Well, shouldn’t.

“Yes, to ask about Sunny. How is she? I haven’t heard from you,” Sabo replied coolly. He wasn’t going to give Ace the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under Sabo’s skin.

“I dunno, I haven’t seen her,” Ace said while shrugging, making Sabo sit up on the bed.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her? How? There’s only two of you there. Where is she?” Sabo was trying to keep himself from yelling. He was worried but maybe you were just avoiding Ace. That wouldn’t be out of character for either of you.

“Chill, she’s in your office. She’s been there for like, three days straight. Hasn’t made me more food or anything. I can hear her muttering in there, but I haven’t seen her,” Ace said with a shrug. Sabo was already off the bed and pacing the floor.

“Go to the office. Now.” Sabo demanded, picking up the snail in his hand. Sabo was worried you were working on Project Angel. He was planning on telling you everything he’d gathered, but he hadn’t expected you to put everything together before he got back. He wanted to get copies of a few more documents to show you before he asked you about your work. He kicked himself for not locking up his research in the cabinet. 

“Ugh, why? She’s an adult, she’s fine,” Ace complained. 

“Get off your ass, stop sleeping on the beach, and go to my office. Bring the snail,” Sabo snapped. He was in no mood for Ace’s pity parties.

“Fine. Gimme a minute,” Ace declared, rolling his eyes. Sabo nervously paced, holding the snail in his gloved hand. He waited until he heard the sounds of Ace slamming open the door to the house, then slamming open the door to the office.

“Look, here she is, whoa, what’s all this shit on the floor, she’s uh…..maybe not fine?” Ace said, tone rising at the end of the sentence, eyes darting around.

“What do you mean ‘not fine’?” Sabo demanded as Ace continued moving.

“Don’t step on those papers, I need them,” you said absently. Sabo couldn’t see you but the snail would pick up anyone in the immediate vicinity of the call. Sabo could hear the croak in your voice. It made him wonder the last time you had a cup of water, or went to sleep.

“Well, there’s nowhere else to step, there’s papers covering every inch of the floor,” Ace complained, the snail looking around at Sabo’s hand. “What’s with all the stuff everywhere? It kinda looks like Marco’s office when he would be researching.. And what’s with your fingers?” Ace asked. You mumbled some response but neither Sabo nor Ace understood it. “Uh, I’m not sure what’s going on here ‘Bo. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a week,” Ace said hesitantly. Sabo swore under his breath.

“Put her on the call,” Sabo requested, trying to keep calm for your sake. Once the snail shifted to your appearance, Sabo cursed again softly. You had huge bags under your eyes, you were reading something rapidly, and the snail’s little hands looked like they were bleeding. “Hi Sunny!” Sabo tried to interrupt you cheerfully, maybe you’d be receptive.

“Hi,” you replied, not taking your eyes off whatever you were reading. You were also furiously writing something down, he guessed in your notebook.

“It’s Sabo,” he continued, “how are you doing?” 

“Okay.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Okay.” 

“I missed you,” Sabo said, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“Okay,” you replied, not even listening to what he was saying. Sabo switched tactics, trying to get you to actually interact with him, not run on auto-pilot.

“I joined the Marines,” Sabo said nonchalantly.

“Okay.”

“They made me Fleet Admiral,” Sabo continued.

“Okay.” In all that time, you hadn’t stopped reading or writing notes for a second.

“Ace, take the notebook away from her,” Sabo said. He heard a short scuffle before you finally looked up from your work.

“Hey!! Give that back right now! It’s not a joke!” you yelled at Ace, with true anger in your voice. For the first time, Sabo heard you voice your frustration and anger. Though he was proud of you, he needed you to stop working.

“Listen to Sabo, then I’ll give it back,” Ace said, the snail holding its arm up in the air. Sabo had seen Ace take things away from Luffy and hold them over his head many times, that probably was what he was doing to you now.

“Fine. What, Sabo?” you said angrily, the snail’s eyes snapping to him. 

“When was the last time you ate?” Sabo asked evenly.

You scrunched your face in thought, bringing a finger to your mouth to chew. “I don’t remember. I think…yesterday? Maybe the day before?”

“And the last time you drank water?”

“Before that. I’ve been drinking -”

“- coffee,” Sabo said with a sigh, finishing your sentence for you. “Have you slept at all?”

“Um, I think I passed out for a few hours…at some point. I don’t really remember and it isn’t important. Sabo, I need my work. Give it Ace, NOW.” Sabo had never heard you this upset before, not even when you were being dressed down by other Marines. 

“Ace is going to give it back to you and you’re going to drink the water he brings, OK? You want to keep being able to work, right? If you drink water and eat, you’ll be able to work longer,” Sabo reasoned with you. You blinked a few times, breaking out of your anger. You nodded slowly, almost trancelike. “Ace, give her back her work,” Sabo requested. The snail snatched the air and resumed reading and writing rapidly.

“I’m not a waiter, I’m not bringing -” Ace started to complain again.

“Ace, got to the kitchen. Please,” Sabo practically begged. He wished he was there in person so he could do it all himself but for now he needed to rely on his brother. Something in his tone must have alerted Ace, because the door slammed again, signaling that Ace had left the office.

“What? She’s bitten her fingernails down to the nub but her hands aren’t broken, she can get water by-” 

“Ace, shut up. I need you to reach behind the spice rack, there’s an unlabeled vial. Do it now.” Ace grumbled but Sabo heard the sound of rummaging. “Put five drops into a cup of water and make sure Sunny drinks it,” Sabo continued. 

“What is this shit?” Ace asked, the snail examining something in its hand. “If it’s good drugs, I’m gonna be sad you held out on me,” Ace said with a raised eyebrow. Sabo sighed, at least Ace was consistent in his irritating nature.

“It’s to help her sleep. I was…giving her some when I was on the island. I think that because she suddenly stopped getting it, her sleep cycle is messed up -” The Ace snail’s face grimaced.

“Sabo, that’s fucked. I can’t believe you were drugging her, what else were you doing to her when she was asleep -”

“Nothing! It’s not like that! This is how she is if I don’t help her sleep. Can you blame me? I bet you she’s been working non-stop since the last time you saw her. Just make sure she drinks the water and then leave her alone. Come back in half an hour and she’ll be asleep. Transfer her to the bed and don’t wake her up.”

“Fine, fine. But only this once. You can’t just keep drugging her forever, you know,” Ace stated, crossing his arms over the bandages on his chest.

“Just this once, I promise. Please.” Ace sighed but Sabo heard the sound of running water and footsteps a few moments later.

“Here, Sunny, drink this,” Ace said, the snail holding out its hand.

“Okay,” you replied automatically.

“Ok, she drank it,” Ace confirmed to Sabo. “I’ll be back in half an hour,” Ace said to you.

“Okay,” you said again. Snail Ace rolled its eyes. 

“That’s all she says ‘okay, okay, okay,’ geez. It’s annoying,” Ace muttered. Sabo finally stopped pacing and sat back down on his bed.

“Thank you, Ace.” Sabo said, grateful for Ace’s presence on the island.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it now, she’s even more self destructive than I am. And that’s saying something,” Ace said while yawning. “I’ll get her soon, don’t worry. I won’t forget. Talk to ya later, ‘Bo.” Ace hung up the call without waiting for Sabo to say goodbye. Typical.

Sabo rubbed his forehead as he imagined you passed out on his large desk. How could you argue that you needed his help now? He’d left you alone for less than a week and you’d already worked yourself back into a state worse than the one he’d found you in. He was nervous about your emotional and mental state if you made all the connections Sabo had. He’d call in the morning, make sure you were OK. For now, all he could do was worry as he wrapped your old Marine uniform tightly around his gloved hands.

Ace POV

Grumbling to himself, Ace entered Sabo’s office half an hour later, like he said he would. Sure enough, you were drooling onto a pile of papers you’d been making notes on. Sighing, he picked you up like a child and started carrying you out of the office with your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t believe Sabo would drug you without your knowledge. Well, he could, but he didn’t condone it. You shifted in your sleep, drooling now onto Ace’s shoulder. He smiled lightly to himself, it reminded him of all those times with Luffy, carrying him around the forest after a long day of hunting.

Climbing the stairs slowly so as not to jostle you, Ace made the short walk to your room. He hadn’t been in Sabo’s room in months, there wasn’t any reason to go in there. Ace deposited you gently in the middle of the bed, covering you with the thin quilt Bepo had made for him. It wouldn’t be enough to keep you warm in the night, Ace thought to himself. If he still had his devil fruit…well, a lot of things would be different. For now, he went to his own room and brought a spare blanket he had in his closet and set it over you. 

Ace went out to enjoy the sunset and clear his mind. He’d done a lot of meditation over the past year, but it didn’t help. He was plagued by nightmares when he tried to sleep and deep shame when he was awake. Ace knew Sabo wanted him to leave the island, maybe go find his former crew or their brother, but Ace…just couldn’t. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment, the rage, the bitter faces of those he had once stood next to, now glaring at him with hatred. A part of him thought that it would have been better if he died at Marineford, so that the death of his Father wouldn’t have been in vain. But, he hadn’t. Ace couldn’t even die right. And he couldn’t imagine the grief Sabo would feel if he left again. So Ace stayed in the limbo of living and dying, eking out a small, isolated life on the deserted island. 

Until Sabo brought you. Ace was smarter than people gave him credit for, he knew what Sabo was up to. He was trying to win you over, to get you to like being with him and on the island. In reality, you had Sabo wrapped around your finger, but you couldn’t see it. Ace clocked Sabo watching you, preparing food and drinks for you, gaining your trust day by day. It was clear that you were an unmitigated genius, the conversations you and Sabo shared were far beyond Ace’s understanding. But you were also sweet and shy, kind and reserved, qualities that Sabo preferred in his partners. Some might think Sabo would want someone who could fight alongside him, but Ace thought Sabo needed someone to take care of, someone to protect. If it wasn’t Ace, it was Luffy. And now Luffy didn’t need them, he had a crew and was more powerful than either one of them, even if he was still an idiot. 

Which only further cemented in Ace’s mind his decision to stay on the island. He was weak now, no Devil Fruit power. Yes, he still could use haki, yes he could still fight, but he felt like a piece of him was missing now that he didn’t have the Mera Mera no Mi. Not only was he a complete failure, he was also the first person to ever lose the ability to use his devil fruit. Sabo wouldn’t fight him using the fruit which defeated the point of sparring, in Ace’s mind. Who would want to see him now? Scarred, depressed, weak, useless. It was better that the world thought he was dead, that he stayed on the island in obscurity and faded into the nothingness that he deserved. 

Your POV

You blinked awake, your mind and mouth felt like they were filled with cotton. Looking around, you were in your bed, covered by a much warmer blanket than your usual quilt. The last thing you remembered was thinking you needed a quick power nap in Sabo’s office…but looking out the window, it must have been at least early afternoon. Stretching in the bed, you saw you were still in your clothes from three days ago. It was gross, but you were glad Ace hadn’t changed you like Sabo had on the boat. You tried swallowing a few times to get the taste of old shoes out of your mouth but it didn’t work. After a quick stretch, you climbed out of bed. Your marathon of working had done a number on you, but you were feeling refreshed.

Descending the staircase, you yawned your way over to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee. You had a lot of research to go through and work on, it was going to be another long day. And night. You started thinking about the next steps in reverse engineering the research while unlatching the coffee canister. You prepared to scoop the grounds but found it empty, which was odd. You distinctly remember there being more coffee, you would have remembered something like that missing, even in your sleep deprived state.

“Looking for something?” Ace asked. You squeaked, you hadn’t seen him waiting for you on the couch.

“Yeah, eh, sorry for yelling,” you apologized. You hoped things weren’t awkward between you and Ace, it would make things a drag if the only other person on the island was mad at you. “Do you, um, know where the coffee went?” you asked hesitatingly.

“I have it, and I’ll give it back on two conditions,” he said, drawing out the tension between you.

“Um…what’re the conditions?” you replied, sitting down on a bar stool to continue the conversation. Even though you thought Ace didn’t want anything nefarious with you, not knowing anything about him made you nervous. You absently brought your finger to your face to chew on your nail, but put it back down when you saw the state they were in. Damn, you’d really bitten them down to the nub, you’d have to bandage them later. 

“I think they’re pretty reasonable. One, we need to call Sabo. He’s been calling me like, every hour to see if you’re awake and it’s annoying,” Ace said, counting off his fingers. You swallowed, your throat dry.

“Alright. What’s the second one?” you agreed, chewing on your lip and tasting blood. Ugh, you had done a number on yourself.

“Two, you have to explain to me what you’re working on. I’m not as smart as you or Sabo, but I wanna know what’s going on. Sabo’s stressed out and so’re you, and I wanna know why,” Ace finished, crossing his arms over his chest. You blinked a few times, surprised at Ace’s demands. They were far more sensible than you expected them to be.

“Ok. I can do both of those things. But can we make some coffee before we call Sabo? I have a feeling he’s not going to be happy with me,” you said with a grimace. You weren’t particularly happy with yourself either, truth be told. Ace hopped off the couch and meandered over to the kitchen. Reaching up to the highest cabinet, he pulled a canister of coffee you hadn’t seen off the shelf.

“It’s convenient you’re short, me’n Sabo can keep stuff away from you up there,” Ace said with a smile. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is Sabo keeping away from me?” you asked, curious.

“Uh…n-nothing! Nothing at all, just saying! Let’s call Sabo!” Ace stammered, a blush rising to his cheeks. You hummed but didn’t say anything. Ace pulled the Den Den out of his kimono and dialed Sabo.

Puru…

Sabo picked up on the first ring.  “Ace, is she -” 

“She’s here,” you replied, interrupting before either one of them had the chance to, grabbing the snail from Ace. 

“Sunny! Thank goodness, you had me worried, how are you feeling? Do you remember talking to me yesterday?” You squinted, trying to think of the past few days. Physically, you felt OK, you’d actually pulled worse stunts. Emotionally…

“I remember you called, but I don’t remember the conversation we had, I’m sorry,” you said. “Listen, Sabo, I’m sorry I worked myself too hard, but -”

“ Worked yourself too hard ? Sunny, you stayed up for three days with no sleep, or food, or water. That’s worse than you were before, I know that -”

“Sabo,” you interrupted quietly, “did you know about my research being used for the Seraphim?” The line went silent for a moment.

“I suspected, but I didn’t have enough proof. I was going to show you my findings when I came back and see if you made the same connections that I did,” Sabo said. “That’s part of the reason I was sent to retrieve you from the base, it wasn’t just the Will of D. -”

“-but you weren’t sent to retrieve me, right? You were sent to kill me,” you continued, setting the snail down on the bar counter. You didn’t know where your courage to speak your mind came from. Maybe it was because Sabo was far away and couldn’t physically see you, maybe it was from his confirmation about your research, maybe it was because you were tired of being left in the dark, maybe it was your conscience talking. All you knew is you needed to hear the truth, even if your hands were shaking too much to hold the snail.

“That’s true,” Sabo said quietly, “but I couldn’t. I just…couldn’t. Please,” Sabo begged into the phone, “please don’t be afraid. I won’t allow anything to happen to you. You’re mine to protect.” You didn’t reply, your courage deflating after Sabo’s intense statement.

“Ok,” was all you said. You handed the snail back to Ace and went to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee. You could still hear the conversation, you just needed a break. You didn’t deserve protection, not after what you’d done.

“See? She’s up and making more coffee, she’s all good -” 

“One last thing, Sunny,” Sabo said in a stern tone. Your eyes flicked to the snail in Ace’s hand. “You can’t work like that. Not anymore. I’ll always protect you - even from yourself. Ace is going to lock you out of the office every night after 8 PM,” Sabo said while you balked. You’d already started thinking about which documents you’d take to your room when he continued. “And no working outside the office. I’ll know,” he said, his intense stare piercing you even though it was coming from a snail. 

“I don’t need you or Ace looking after me, I can set my own limits, I -” you balked at Sabo, ready to defend yourself.

“Are you sure?” Sabo asked, voice low. “Look at your fingers. Look at your lips. You were practically in kidney failure when we last talked. You would work yourself to death if no one stopped you.” You flushed, Sabo’s words stinging your ego. He didn’t understand, you had to figure out what to do, the consequences were too dire otherwise.

“Please, I - I like taking care of you. Let me help you,” Sabo crooned to you. “I don’t want to embarrass or upset you. Please, Sunny? Will you do this for me? Let me help you?” 

You nodded, silently agreeing with Sabo’s plan. You’d figure out a way to get everything sorted in the time he gave you. You didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness, not anymore, but you couldn’t refuse Sabo’s offer.

“Ok, that’s enough. We’ll talk again some other time, Sabo,” Ace said, hanging up the call. “Whew, glad that’s over,” Ace said, relaxing against the couch. “Now that you’ve started the coffee, what are the Seraphim? And how are you connected to them?”

Grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee, you shuffled over and sat across from Ace on the couch. “It’s a long story, get comfortable. OK, do you know anything about lineage factors?” you asked. Ace shook his head.

“Alright, not a problem. Lineage factors are the building blocks of life, every single living thing in the world has a lineage factor. It’s how we all turn out the way we do, from our strengths to the way we look to the diseases we get. Your genetic makeup, the traits you get from your parents, can affect it, your environment can affect it, and eating a devil fruit can affect it. With me so far?” you asked. Ace nodded.

“So, I’ve been researching lineage factors for a long time, at the molecular level. I was given different assignments by the Marines over the years, but they all were about how to replicate, create, or delete different elements from Lineage Factors. So, for example, I could have been working on how to cure West Blue Nerve Depletion. It’s a fatal disease you can get if both of your parents are from a certain part of the West Blue. With my work, if I successfully identified the right Lineage Factor, you could hypothetically erase it and no one would get it any more. That’s really simplified, but you get the point.”

Your face soured as you thought through the next part you had to explain. You gripped the edge of the cushion you were sitting on, pushing on it to relieve your budding anxiety “So. Um. A long time ago, Vegapunk figured out a way to make fake Zoan Devil Fruits using Lineage factors. It was before my time,” you supplied. “The first time around it wasn’t considered a success and the project was abandoned. But a few years ago the project got renewed interest. Sabo - I…we think that Vegapunk used some of my research to make the new generation of artificial Zoan fruits. They’re called SMILE fruits. They…it’s…there’s a lot going on with them. A lot of horrible, horrible…um…” you stammered as you felt yourself starting to clam up. You put your hand on your chest and rubbed as you continued.

“Um, Sabo’s documents show Donquixote Doflamingo was selling these fruits to Kaido and um…it’s…dangerous and they’ve hurt a lot of people. Killed a lot of people. He m-made a lot of m-money, well, the fruit users didn’t….Doflamingo..it’s not…I’m not…” you kept trying to talk but it was getting harder to take full breaths. 

“Hey, it’s OK,” Ace said, leaning forward on the couch, getting up quickly. He moved to sit next to you, putting a hand on your back. You let him, the touch grounding you in reality.

“It’s not OK, um, I thought - I thought I was helping, um people and I was, ah….Doflamingo and Kaido…the Beast Pirates…” you couldn’t get anything in or out, either breaths or thoughts. Ace started rubbing his hand on your back in circles, trying to soothe you. You didn’t know why he was being nice to you, you didn’t deserve it with all the blood on your hands. Your work had resulted in the deaths of hundreds of people, injured thousands more, led to the consolidation of Doflamingo’s power, Kaido’s army growing exponentially and plenty more. You were directly responsible for the suffering of thousands and thousands of innocent lives.

“You don’t have to keep explaining if you don’t want to,” Ace said softly. You stopped talking for a few minutes, letting the anxiety flow through you. But you needed to tell someone, you needed someone else to know the terrible things you’d done. A part of you hoped Ace would find you repugnant after you told him everything, that he would yell at you. You wanted someone to make you feel as awful as you deserved.

“Th-there’s more,” you stammered. “Vegapunk was only able to make Zoan fruits at first, but documents from the RA show that they’re using pieces of my research to kind of make fake paramecia fruits. I worked on this blood a long time ago, I’m not sure exactly what it was, but I think - they’re…ah…making Seraphim. Or made them already, I’m not sure. They’re kind of clones of the Warlords with paramecia powers. Destructive, but completely controlled, it was all done using parts of my…my…uh…my…” you couldn’t talk any longer as your throat closed and your world narrowed. 

Everything was too tight, too small, too constricting. You pushed Ace’s hand off you and ran out of the house, the screen door slamming with a bang. You needed to be away, away from Ace, away from the house, away from the words, away from the guilt, away from the shame…You didn’t know where you were going, you were just blindly running running running running…your socks hit water and you sank to your knees, palms touching the shore. The rocky pebbles of the beach pierced your hands and knees and the cold water lapped at your skin as you took half a breath, trying to calm down, trying to relax, trying to breathe, trying to forget, trying to breathe trying to breathe breathe breathe breathe

“-after you. Holy shit, you’re fast when you run,” Ace said, finally catching up to you, long hair fluttering around his face. “You alright?” he asked, hand hovering near you as if unsure whether to touch you. You tried to nod but weren’t sure if you were successful or not.

“C’mon, let’s breathe with the waves. In and out. Look, here comes a wave. In…….and out, look the wave is going……in……..and out……” You were on all fours, taking in ragged breaths to the sounds of the waves with Ace’s voice, your hands in the water up to your wrists. You didn’t know how long you were doing it, but eventually your breath evened out and you were able to take in a full lungful of air, making your chest hurt with the effort. Finally, you were able to sit down, though you longed to be back in bed. Your adrenaline rush had left you drained, probably still tired from the three days you didn’t sleep. You sat where you were, lower body drenched in sea water from the waves.

“T-thanks,” you said in a halting tone, unsure if your ability to speak would last.

“No problem. I used to do this all the time, it’s a..um, breathing box technique? I think that’s what Sabo called it,” Ace said, scratching his head. “Box breathing, that’s it.”

Everything was quiet for a few minutes as the two of you sat side by side, watching the deep blue sea. As the last of your adrenaline faded, you noticed your hands were stinging from the salt water on your open wounds.

“You explained lineage factors really good. Sabo’s tried before, but I was too dumb to understand when he did,” Ace said, breaking the silence.

“You’re not dumb, it’s pretty complicated. Most scientists don’t really understand it either, that’s why there’s not that many of us who study it in depth,” you replied. You didn’t think Ace was stupid, formal education on a lot of islands left a lot to be desired. You’d met a lot of highly intelligent people over the years who simply hadn’t had educational opportunities. Ace hummed.

“Can you look at my lineage factor?” Ace asked. His tone was casual but his back was stiff.

“Sure, gimme your hand,” you requested. You’d looked at so many lineage factors, most were the same outside of devil fruit users. Ace gave you his hand palm up, you took it like you were going to read his fortune. In a way, you were. Magnifying again and again, you reached his lineage factor. Ace leaned over to watch you study it.

“Oh, that’s - that’s really interesting actually. Are you a devil fruit user? Your lineage factor suggests you are,” you said, poring over his genetic structures. “But also, there are some anomalies, and wow, that’s unique, is that Conqueror’s…? ” you continued, magnifying it even more, “Ace, this is fascinating. I’d love to research you more,” you said. You were lost in thought, moving the magnification around to see more of his factors. You’d never seen anything like it, he had so many factors you studied, but you’d never seen them all in one person before.

“I was a user, but not any more.”

“I’m sorry?” you’d missed what he said, you were busy looking at the latent power held within the man.

“I used to have a devil fruit, but not any more,” Ace repeated.

“Uh, what do you mean, not any more? I thought they only regenerate if you die,” you questioned, dropping the magnification.

“I did,” Ace deadpanned. “I died at Marineford. I was completely dead for…maybe 3 minutes. That’s all it took for the fruit to regenerate. Sabo went and found the fruit when he wasn’t sure I would pull through and… it’s his now. I’m the first person in history to lose devil fruit powers,” Ace said, laughing bitterly.

“Isn’t it better that you lived? You can always -”

“Hey Sunny -” Ace interrupted. You’d gotten used to his bad habit by now and just cocked your head at Ace’s upcoming question. “Since your research was used to make paramecia and zoan fruits, could you make a Logia fruit?”

Your eyes widened. 

[lassieposting]

Fic Concept:

Tali'Zorah is, if she does say so herself, something of an expert in galactic romance. Her omnitool hosts a 6 terabyte collection of romance and romcom vids from across the spectrum of known species, and after that much media exposure, she's fairly sure she's familiar with all the ins and outs of each culture's dating milestones.

She knows, for example, that family members have certain duties in a clan member's new relationship, in human cultures. As one of Shepard's closest friends, she also knows that the poor thing has no family to fulfil those duties for her.

Determined to see Shepard and Garrus's relationship turn into Shepard and Garrus's marriage, she starts handing out responsibilities to appropriate members of the Normandy crew. Shenanigans ensue.

(AKA the one in which Tali is convinced common romcom tropes are actually essential milestones in any human romantic relationship, and takes steps to make sure Shep and Garrus get to experience them.)

Ideas that made me horf:

- Wrex, as Shepard's oldest and closest (deeply violent) male associate, is enlisted to give Garrus the if you break her heart, I'll end you speech usually performed by the father, on a visit to Tuchanka. Maybe he absolutely knows Tali has misread this, and lowkey gives the speech over shots of ryncol, wheezing about how Shep would kill Garrus just fine herself. Maybe he has no idea this isn't an actual important human ritual, and performs his part with ceremonial gusto. Anyway, he does it, and somehow manages to be vaguely heartwarming about it anyway or gives Garrus some sign of approval.

- Mordin, as the oldest male friend on the Normandy, is tasked with interrogating Garrus at "Family Dinner". He does so, but very few of the questions he asks are actually relevant to the typical Meet The Parents dinner, and Shepard actually learns a few new things about Garrus herself.

- Joker volunteers to be "mom" and bring out the baby pictures to show Garrus. He doesn't have any pictures of Shepard as an actual baby, but he does have some funny or embarrassing ones from their time serving together under Captain Anderson he's been itching to share, and that's almost the same thing. She's more baby there than she is now, anyway.

- Tali strongly encourages Garrus to spend time "bonding" with Grunt. It's very important to make sure your future wife's child knows he is included in your new family unit, Garrus! An eventful trip to the zoo/museum/etc ensues.

- Bonus wedding chapter where Wrex is bullied into formal wear to walk Shep down the aisle; Jack paints Cipritine face markings on Grunt thinking they're Vakarian family markings and then sets him loose on Garrus's extended family, who are all very confused as to how this young krogan is apparently from Cipritine; Zaeed gives a hilariously inappropriate speech as Best Man and accidentally outs Garrus as Archangel in front of Aria T'Loak; Kasumi attempts to hook up with Jacob in a time-honoured tradition of inadvisable bridesmaid/groomsman couplings, and Mordin makes use of his STG training to break into the honeymoon suite to leave a tasteful gift basket of sex aids on the bed, because Tali has banned him from giving them in front of the guests.

Just. Interfering Interspecies Crew Way Off Base But Have Loving Intentions. And in the end Shepard is deeply exasperated, but also very touched by the effort put in by the people that love them, and honestly lowkey glad that they got to experience those cliche moments after all.

Bonus points: crewmembers who really do see Shepard/Garrus as family also trying to share their traditions with her/him. Like, if a krogan warrior convinces a fertile female to join his clan, that's a big deal and maybe the clan throws a huge feast and party to celebrate, so Wrex does that for them. Or maybe asari pass hereditary jewelry from mother to daughter to be worn at the first bonding ceremony to a beloved life partner, so Samara lends Shep hers to wear for the wedding. Shit like that.

[bansheeboyy]

Cade knew his stepmom was strict, knew she’d had a varied and honestly quite mysterious career before meeting his dad, but he’d never expect this.

Sure there had been some friction since he’d come home from university, some…personality clashes. Chores done to an ‘insufficient’ standard were the common catalyst for their little bickering matches, but other times it was Cade rolling his eyes a little too obviously at her fawning over his dad. She’d say he needs to get used to her being loving to his dad, that it was here to stay, and she was a very expressive person. Cade would say something rude back, and the fireworks would begin. They weren’t nasty fights, they didn’t hate each other, but they were common enough for things to be a little tense.

So when Cade woke up from a nap he’d taken in the living room when lounging in his underwear (another thing his stepmom griped at him about) tied meticulously to the recliner with his legs bowed and arms reaching up behind him, he was shocked to say the very least.

He was even more shocked to see his stepmother looming above him.

“You know, Cade I really didn’t want it to come to this, but I think it’s about time I taught you some manners.”

And she’d started tickling him. His feet, his sides, his vulnerable pits, her long nails proving to be dastardly tools of torture when it came to tickling. Unluckily for Cade, tickling was a significant weakness for him.

“I was hoping being ticklish would run in the family, and I was right. You’re just as ticklish as your father, even slightly more maybe.” She cooed as she raked her nails down Cade’s pits and sides. “Tickling always works to persuade him; I wonder if his son is the same. Let’s see if you have the same death spot!”

And she crouched down by his feet, the poor student flinching in the rope, groaning through the gag, as she slowly dragged her nails from his heels, down the curve of his arches, and then scribbled those evil talons at the base of his toes rapidly.

Cade would have shrieked if he could have, thrashing in the rope as his most ticklish spot was explored by this wicked witch.

“Yep, looks like we have a winner!” She giggled, eyes shining with amusement. “Your dad’s feet are a killer spot, especially his toes. I’m very glad to see that little family quirk is hereditary. Look at you go!”

All the time she was taunting him, Cade was cackling into his gag, tears welling up in his eyes at the assault on his toes, straining in vain against the ropes tying him like a prize turkey.

Eventually she lifted her talons from his poor feet, and instead moved them to his inner thighs, kneeling in front of the chair so she could get a good, focused scribble in.

“Mphhhhppppppp!”

Unluckily for Cade, he was also ticklish on his thighs. Also unluckily for Cade, his thighs were a notorious erogenous zone for him, and about a minute into his thigh tickling, a stirring started emanating from inside his black boxer-briefs. Not helping the situation in the slightest was the direct view he had down her low-cut dress. His whines soared an octave as she clawed her way higher and higher up his sensitive thighs, almost to the rim of his boxer legs. The ropes held his crotch wide open. If she wanted to do something to his nether regions…he’d have no say in the matter—

DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT!

—he derided himself fiercely, but his body was already betraying him, his semi nudging at his boxers, unmistakably firm.

The finger’s ceased their brutal rampage on his vulnerable flesh.

“Cade. Michael. David. WILSON. Is that what I think it is!?” His stepmother hollered, standing up in a flash, face red with fury. “That’s it!” She cried, storming off upstairs.

He panted heavily in his blissful reprieve, chest starting to glisten with sweat. Fuck, he’d never been so humiliated: Turned on in front of his stepmom, his shameful weakness taken full advantage of, hearing details about his dad’s ticklishness he could have gone his whole life not knowing. What had he even done to deserve this? Not washing up on time? This was crazy! And the ropes…so tight and expertly done. Had she been a Boy Scout leader or something? Or maybe….something a lot less wholesome. He dreaded to think, partially because he wanted his boner to go down, not stay up.

She came back downstairs in a huff, brandishing two hairbrushes and a bottle of baby oil. To his dismay she started lathering his soles in the stuff, shaking her head at his attempts to kick his naked feet away.

“I was being nice before, Cade.” She tutted, finishing up oiling his feet and picking up the two wide paddle brushes, his muffled complaints washing over her. “But that little incident in your underwear; that’s too far. I’m your mommy now, whether you like it or not, and you’re going to have to treat me as such.”

She did not just say that.

She placed the brushes on his feet, stationary, the bristles prodding a good 3/4s of his soles at once, and he flinched, whining through the duct tape.

“God, I’m glad you take after your father.”

She slid the brushes up his slippery soles slowly and Cade’s eyes widened with shock at how ticklish it was, a high pitched sound emanating from behind the gag, shaking his head, eyes wide and desperate, pleading for her mercy.

“After around the two hour mark your dad is always truly broken. Let’s see if you can beat his record, hmm? I bet a sprightly young man like you can last at least three.

“Maybe by then you’ll have learned your lesson.”

And with the merciless glare of a battle commander, she let the brushes rip.

[bingsucks]

you know we never really hear about shirley's family. we see her in-laws in the thanksgiving episode, but other than her kids/Andre, we never see her parents. are they living? are they dead?

everyone in the study group has some kind of parental issues. addiction is a genetic trait, and it's possible her alcoholism was hereditary. maybe she had a faith crisis in her 20s. she wanted to be a business owner, but what did she want BEFORE that? obviously she loves her kids, but how would her life have gone if she never had them in the first place?

something that seems to come up a lot when episodes are more shirley-centric is shame, and she seems to ignore the things she finds shame in. she was ashamed to be pregnant with Ben, so she ignored the pregnancy test in her purse. she was ashamed that she (and why she) wanted to start a business in the first place, so she made an excuse. she was ashamed about how she acted as a child, so she supressed it.

but the shame had to come from somewhere.

it would be fun to explore shirley's relationship with religion under a more critical lens, because maybe she doesn't even want to think about it.

it's a sitcom, but I have so many questions and there's so much POTENTIAL