#which is just. no. neither of us are wrong were literal just different

[infiniteaugends]

Okay! I need to get this out of my head. I’ve seen some posts that are upset that people are upset about the BuckTommy break up. The core gripe of these posts is that the show still has HenKaren and so we shouldn’t be upset about the handling of the other main queer couple. Which makes no sense because BuckTommy and HenKaren fulfill different niches. One is a bisexual man exploring a new relationship and the other is two gay women who are settled with multiple kids.

However, this post is to talk about HenKaren. Yes I love them! They were the main thing that drew me to the show long before bi Buck became a thing. They are two black women in a relationship. Neither is ‘conventionally’ attractive. Hen is pretty visually queer. I love them. I want more of them in the show. However I don’t relate to them. Almost all of their storylines revolve around motherhood. There is very limited exploration of them as queer women outside of motherhood. Karen is a literal rocket scientist and that has never even been used as any sort of plot point. Like the amount of physics she knows and understands could be used to great effect. Micheal got to help break into a bank vault with Bobby, but Karen has never been used in a similar way. Like the amount of STEM knowledge stored in her brain 100% could have solved at least a few rescues. Can we explore these amazing woman as queer women instead of mothers just sometimes pls.

I read a fanfic that explored how Don’t ask, Don’t tell could have affected Karen. That she couldn’t become an astronaut because of it. I would love more of that energy in the show.

So yes you are right I am bemoaning the way Buck and Tommy’s break up was handled. I am bemoaning the lack of care given to exploring Buck’s bisexuality within monogamy. I am allowed to be upset. I am allowed to not relate to the storylines given to Hen and Karen. What happened to Hen being kinda witchy and blaming the moon cycle for her cheating? What happened to Hen and Karen and Athena’s wine mom nights? Where is our exploration of Karen as partner to a woman in a dangerous field of work? Where is our exploration of their relationship outside of kids?

You want me to appreciate the crumbs of queer representation being tossed my way? Well won’t you’re right we should be angry that Hen and Karen are treated as second class citizens in the narrative. We should be upset that their importance has been reduced to only motherhood. We should be upset that this show is mishandling all of its queer characters and letting Eddie Diaz have freedom and joy while our queer representation suffers.

BuckTommy was the straw that broke the camels trust in 911 ability to craft realistic queer lives and continue to care about them more than a diversity check mark. I will continue to watch HenKaren clips on YouTube and read fan-fiction. I will continue to engage with Bi Buck fan-fiction that heals the parts of me that Glee and this show have bruised. I will not thank them for the stale crumbs they brush from the table. Do I love Hen and Karen? Yes! Is it enough? Not anymore!

Anyway, I got a little heated and upset, but all this discourse is really just rubbing me the wrong way. Let people be upset and hurt. Their feelings are valid whether you agree.

[relaxxattack]

well, if you insist! here was the essay:

why rosemary adopt a child (a color theory) (gone silly)

in homestuck, family trees, and the characters themselves, are color coded. this isn't really something that needs explanation, we all know that the color wheel is split basically in half along the jamily and strilonde lines. e.g. pink + orange = red

but if we're going to imagine this is a hard-encoded rule, it leads to funny theories about future fankids... like how rose and kanaya will most likely adopt a cerulean wiggler.

rose and kanaya's colors are purple and green. i would argue that they have a fair bit of red-orange as secondary colors, but their MAIN colors are purple and green.

these colors make up the ends of jewel tone spectrum, meaning that any colors between them are going to end up as jewel tones.

therefore, if you were to "mix" the colors of these two, the middle spot you would end up in would be a jewel tone.

more specifically, cerulean.

there's also, simply, vibes to take into account; aka what looks good together. although rose and kanaya both often wear warm colors, the fact that their "main" colors are jewel tones makes it much more pleasing to the eye for an addition to their group to also be of a jewel tone.

even if they were dressed all in orangey-red, blue and orange look good together! and happen to be trademark colors of...

their postcanon daughter!

by color theory standards, vrissy's design is adorably perfect to fit in with her moms. although an orange kid with blue accents would have also worked, i personally think the blue is cuter.

so, color-wise, they would always have needed to go with a child that was a different color than either of them in order to keep the scheme harmonious. of course it was basically writing on the wall that these two characters, who were literally recreating trollkind, would want to adopt a wiggler, but it's also sweet that homestuck's pre-existing color coded family trees affirm this as well.

a child that went out of the jewel tones and more up into warmer colors, like fuchsia or yellow, wouldn't have looked right with rose and kanaya-- but a child that was just one of their colors would likely feel just as wrong. these two characters, who denied their societies' notions of traditional womanhood at every turn, were always destined to adopt-- to bring in a new color, but a harmonious one.

dave and karkat, however... exist in completely stark contrast to this.

neither of them really have secondary colors. they're both just red, red, red; as red as can be!

karkat hides his red with gray, of course, but gray is hueless and has no place on the color wheel. the closest either of them come to having a secondary color is the fact that dave(sprite) also has strong associations with orange; but this isn't really a secondary color, because it doesn't move around the wheel at all-- it is purely analogous.

dave and karkat's color schemes contain only one hue, and that hue is red.

so if we're continuing to follow the family tree down by using the established color rule, the only way you can really go with davekat is... more red.

you could maybe do analogous colors to red, sometimes, like pink or orange, and i do see that in fankids occasionally. but it's easy to see why so many of them just end up sticking with red-- it's hard to imagine where else to even go from here.

the davekat color scheme is so narrow that, unlike rosemary, they don't have a perfect middle color they are 'destined' to adopt into their family line. it's always just going to be them and their own blood.

which is why, following this logic, obviously the next hsbc upd8 will be the canon davekat mpreg child,

This is the dumbest thing to point out but why is every Davekat fankid red JDJSJDJ its so funny

[caffeinatedopossum]

I keep hearing people say stuff like "x character is very monotone" and "x character hardly emotes at all" and I'm like?? Maybe its the autism but that wasn't the vibe I got AT ALL

We all know autistic people can have a hard time understanding neurotypical expressions and social cues but consider that perhaps neurotypical people in the same way can't understand autistic expressions and social cues

[timetravellingkitty]

everyday i see clueless westerners (especially white people) peddle thinly veiled hindutva propaganda which they wouldn't know cause they know absolutely nothing about what goes on in india. so here are some signs that that the person you're talking to is a hindu nationalist:

they either do not acknowledge casteism or claim that caste is a western construct. my personal favourite however is dismissing anyone bringing up caste discrimination by saying that the indian constitution outlaws untouchability. they may also bring up the fact that the prime minister belongs to an other backwards class (obc) so clearly india has moved on from caste and hindutva isn't only for the upper castes. they possess a shallow understanding of caste

harping on about "islamic colonisation" : no, the mughals did not colonise india. when you point this out, they will immediately assume that you think muslim invaders were innocent beings who did nothing wrong, which is very much not what anyone is claiming here

while we're on the topic of "islamic colonisation" they will also refer to the demolishing of muslim sites of heritage and worship and then building hindu temples over them as "decolonisation" (cough cough ram mandir) the hindu right also goes around pretending that they're the indigenous people of india

along a similar vein, they will dismiss islamophobia by bringing up instances of hindu oppression in countries like pakistan and bangladesh. it is true that hindus are persecuted in these two countries, however they are used to fuel their oppression complex, that their upper caste hindu self is under attack in india of all places (think a white christian in the united states). you should be in solidarity with minorities everywhere. it is neither transactional or conditional (note: they will never bring up sri lanka. persecution of hindus exists only when the oppressors are muslim)

claiming that hindu nationalism and hindutva are not the same because hindutva means "hindu-ness". that is only the literal translation of the term. like it or not, they're the same thing

they support the indian military occupation of kashmir. they will call it an integral part of kashmir, one reason which will be "hinduism is indigenous to kashmir." they will also bring up the last maharaja of kashmir signing the instrument of accession as further proof, as if the consent of the people was taken

they're zionists. do i even need to explain this. hindutva is just zionism for hindus

they refer to buddhism and jainism (sikhism too sometimes) as branches of hinduism rather than separate, distinct religions

they condemn any resistance to the indian govt as a burden or terrorism (like calling the farmers who are currently protesting a hindrance or terrorists. funny how sikhs are the same as hindus when they support hindu causes but terrorists when they resist oppression...)

they call you a pseudo liberal or a fake leftist. i'm telling you, they don't know jackshit. they can't even tell the difference between a liberal and a leftist and call US unread lmao. bonus points if they call you a liberandu or a sickular 💀

they call india "bharat" when they talk in english. there are in fact multiple indian languages that call india bharat or bharatam, but if they say bharat while talking in english, that is absolutely a hindu nationalist no questions asked

please do your due diligence. read up on hindutva. hindu nationalists have already started making gains in the united states, thanks to rich upper caste nris. do not fall for propaganda

[sunandflame]

Not a Monster

Warnings: fluff, nsfw, smut, implied violence, neglect, threesome, double penetration, biting, mating, jealousy

Word Count: 7,2k

Pairing: Yoriichi x Fem!Reader x Kokushibo

crossposted on AO3

In a world where Demons had become domesticated in the last century or so, becoming glorified pets and workers. 

You knew you had done your friend a favor by getting her a pet demon, especially since you were worried about her mental state, which had been rapidly getting worse.

Weeks and months had passed now. Of course you remained in constant contact and had observed how good it was for her to take care of the demonic creature. Which of course left you wondering why you didn't have one, since you weren't any better when it came to fighting the loneliness that was a constant part of your life. Some solitude was always good but when prolonged, it was overwhelming and could be painful.

That's why you thought it couldn't hurt to - maybe - keep your eyes open, look and behold, it literally popped in front of your nose as you walked past a shelter. There was a red sign with 'HIGH DISCOUNT' there.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

Your entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell above the door. There was no one there and you looked around cautiously. There were all sorts of things that were used for keeping a demon. You walked down the corridor and saw a big cage standing darkly in the corner. It was larger than the other cages you had seen and you became curious, especially since the sign also said high discount.

As you walked in closer, you noticed the demon who was on his knees behind the bars, dignified and humble, he had his gaze lowered until he realized you were there. He was beautiful with his maroon colored eyes and long black hair that turned reddish at the tips. A prominent mark on his forehead took nothing away from his beauty and neither did the two horns that protruded from his forehead. Two horns…? Wait a minute, this means…

“This is a pureblood, very rare on the market.”

Startled, you turned to the clerk, who suddenly stood behind the counter and stared at you. Your gaze went back to the demon, who looked at you carefully and didn't take his eyes off of you. “Then why is it at such a low price?”

“Because of his brother.”

"His brother?" You frowned and looked confused from the seller to the cage and you felt another presence in the cage - 6 glowing eyes stared at you from the dark corner.

He stepped forward next to his brother and even though you could tell they were probably twins, you could clearly see the differences. The red of his long hair was darker and more spikier, his complexion paler, his physique was broader and more muscular. But this was not the main difference. It was his eyes which he held 6 pairs of. Golden with red sclera. His aura was intimidating and yet also very regal and proud. He had two horns as well that were more purple than red. He also adorned an additional mark that ran from his chin down to his throat.

 “Why, what’s wrong with his brother?” You couldn't take your eyes off him as you asked your questions and saw him squinting all of his 6 eyes on you.

“Yoriichi is a very domestic and remarkable demon. Very trusting, friendly, and listens to every command but his brother, Kokushibo, on the other hand… Well, I can only say that his previous owner was not able to handle him.”

“It didn’t occur to you to separate the two?”

“Of course, but every time they were separated, Kokushibo became more and more uncontrolled, and Yoriichi always managed to escape and return to his brother. We’ve tried it several times but it just didn’t work, which is why these rare purebloods are on discount.”

You saw Yoriichi looking at you with interest and Kokushibo about to hiss at you. You turned your head to the seller and grinned at him. “I’ll take them both.”

~ ~ ~

You really didn't know what got into you when you found yourself standing in front of the two demons that were clearly too tall. They literally towered over you by almost two heads, looking down at your pathetic height. You should have been intimidated, but strangely enough, you weren't. Maybe it was because Yoriichi's calm and tranquil manner balanced out Kokushibo's wild and angry one. The two of them were like yin and yang. Brothers who couldn't be separated.

The purchase was so spontaneous that you weren't really prepared and you were lucky enough to have a larger apartment with an additional room that you could possibly make available to the two of them. Your friend, whom you surprised with the demon Giyuu, probably felt as unprepared as you too.

“When was the last time you two ate?”

The two of them stared at you before Kokushibo turned away in disdain and Yoriichi felt obligated to answer for them both. He opened his mouth and it was the first time either of them had opened their mouths. “We last ate 10 days ago.”

What?! No wonder the six-eyed demon was in such a bad mood. Demons didn't have to eat regularly like humans. 1 to 2 a week was enough, but not 10 days! They must have been absolutely starving!

After they had eaten, you prepared their room. Unfortunately you didn't have any other beds, just futons, but that should be enough for now.

~ ~ ~

A few days passed and they were quieter than expected. Kokushibo hadn't done anything bad to you but still refused to talk to you while Yoriichi was very pleasant. 

“Yoriichi, do you want me to take your collar off? The Wisteria pouch must be uncomfortable for you.” Collars were mandatory for demons when they wanted to go outside, but the owner was able to choose at home.

He lowered his gaze humbly. “You are too kind, Mistress.”

You were very fond of Yoriichi. You liked his kind and gentle nature that even soothed your own chaotic thoughts. It was the least you could do for him. You asked him to lower his head and carefully took off his collar. While you came so close to him, you noticed his hair and gently stroked it. “How about I brush your hair, it’s looking a bit dull.”

His hair was beautiful and you could feel how he enjoyed being pampered by you in this way. How your brush went slowly through the dark red waves, making them shine again. It was a very domestic situation between the both of you that got interrupted by a dark aura from the corner. You quickly glanced from Yoriichi’s hair to Kokushibo. If you didn't know any better then you would assume that he was jealous, but you were not sure.

“Are you hungry?” But there was no answer. It was not like you expected him to talk. Both demon brothers had been very silent since the beginning. After taking off Yoriichi’s collar you noticed that he spoke a little bit more. His pleasant and calm voice relaxed you deeply and you wondered whether Kokushibo could even speak and whether it was perhaps because of the prong collar that he still had around his neck. The prong collar looked painful and even if you weren't intimidated by his strong presence, you still wanted to be careful.

But somehow that seemed unfair to you.

“Yoriichi, please wait here.” You stood up and approached the tall menacing demon until you were standing in front of him. He didn’t lower his ominous presence when he looked down on you and yet you showed no fear. ”Lower your head, please.” But he did nothing of that sort, but squinted his 6 eyes onto you. You let out a long sigh. You knew that it wouldn't be easy with him and yet you were slightly annoyed when you needed to pull up a chair so you could be on the same level as him.

“Don’t move…” You were very close to him as you fumbled with his prong collar to open it. What kind of brutal device was that? The collar was far too tight on his neck and had left scars; there were also scratch marks that showed that he had desperately tried to open it himself. It was said that demons who have face marks are wilder and less easy to tame. Kokushibo even had two. Was that the reason why they tortured him like that? Anger flared up in you, but you took controlled breaths so you were able to focus on this damn opening mechanism.

Kokushibo watched your efforts with interest and for the first time there was no anger or threatening aura coming from him or his eyes. After some fiddling with his neck, you managed to open the damn collar and threw it on the floor. Your gaze was focused on the puncture scars on his neck. Without a second thought, your fingers roamed over the spots.

Well at least you tried, because he had stopped you with such a quick movement that you took a startled step back. The only thing was that you had forgotten you were still standing on a chair and your foot stepped on thin air.

Everything happened so quickly in the next few seconds that you were not able to realize what actually happened until your body was pressed against his, his strong arms around your waist. He caught you in time and held you against his solid physique, and you could feel how strong and muscular he was. You looked at him with wide eyes while he looked at you almost bored. “You humans are so clumsy.”

Were those really his first words towards you? His voice had a deeper timbre than Yoriichi's and it made your skin shiver. Since his arrival, all he had done was glare at you and intimidate you with his brutal presence, which he was very good at controlling. All that was gone now as he still held you close to him - as if you weighed nothing. His gaze on you was interested, since this was the first time you were up so close to him.

“You- You can put me down now…” And he did. With a gentleness you never expected from him. Your soft body slid along his. You looked at him, slightly puzzled. “I'll get some balm for your wounds. Maybe you should sit down so I don’t have to get back on a chair.” He just nodded at you and sat down on the sofa where Yoriichi was sitting.

You left the room briefly and didn't notice how the brothers communicated with each other or how Kokushibo’s eyes were following you. With the balm in your hand, you sat between the two and turned your attention to Kokushibo. “Don’t be alarmed, it might be a little cool now,” you whispered as you gently rubbed the cool gel along his neck. He didn't even bat an eyelash and just let you do it while keeping all his 6 eyes closed. Was he enjoying it? It seemed like it. You carefully stroked over it a second time as you saw how the wounds were already starting to heal. “Woah!” You let out surprise.

“Our wounds heal very quickly and we can’t have scars, but my brother's collar was coated with an extra strong dose of wisteria that made him even weaker and made it difficult for him to speak. Thank you, Mistress, for this generous gift you gave to both of us.”

Yoriichi, who was sitting to your right, had taken your hand. He brought it gently to face and brushed it against his cheek and gave each knuckle a kiss. There were so many emotions associated with his gesture, like gratitude and affection, that it almost brought tears to your eyes. 

You turned your head towards Kokushibo who looked at you with a look that you couldn't interpret. He finally spoke and his voice made you shiver again. “I would like to take a bath. May I, Owner?”

You simply nodded and watched him get up and disappear into the bathroom. Yoriichi, who was still holding your hand, spoke as his brother was gone. “Michikatsu is not evil as anyone would assume. He needs love and affection like any other being. I wouldn't mind if you would give some of your attention and affection to him."

“Michikatsu? His name is not Kokushibo?”

He shook his head. “Koku, black. Shi, death, Bo, eye. They named him like that because of his eyes. He never corrected them as he wanted them to fear him. But in reality Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.”

Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.

Yoriichi's words echoed in your mind as you knocked on your bathroom door and opened a crack. "Can I come in?"

“This is your house, Owner...”

You grimaced at his wording and entered anyway. You saw him sitting relaxed in the tub with all but one of his eyes closed. With the one he watched you carefully as you took a washcloth and sat down on a stool behind him. You gestured for him to lean forward slightly, which he did.

You moistened the washcloth with the warm water and gently slid it over his broad shoulder. Luckily his hair was already in a bun so you had free access to his back. At first he was very tense, but when he realized that you didn't mean him any harm and just wanted to scrub his back, you felt his muscles slowly relax under your fingers.

“I told your brother the same, please don’t call me Owner. Just call me Y/N. It feels so degrading to you both to call me owner.”

He was silent for a while before answering. “We... are demons... We have no right to name anything the way we want... We have no right to have an opinion on what we should be called. We are just objects in people's eyes. Easy pets...”

This time you were the one who remained silent, because you had felt the resentment and frustration behind those words. You took a cup and filled it with warm water and poured it over his back to wash away the dirt that had formed from your scrubbing. “I don’t know what your previous owners did to you. You don't have to tell me, but you're not objects to me. You are living beings who deserve to live a good life. You can call my home yours too. You are allowed to have possessions too.”

“That is…noted…”

The next few minutes were shrouded in silence, but it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, Michikatsu actually seemed to enjoy the way you gently massaged his scalp with your fingertips while you shampooed his hair. You enjoyed these domestic activities. To take care of someone. To make them feel good. You hadn't done that for a very long time because you had also been alone for a long time. Being alone was painful- 

Before you could delve into your dark thoughts, you noticed an odd smell and was startled. Did you leave something on the stove? No, it smelled way too pleasant for that.

Michikatsu noticed your twitch, but he didn't react like you. “Yoriichi has been watching you for days, like me. He’ll probably cook you something while you’re here with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. He wasn't serious, was he? You really wanted to check, but wanted to finish bathing Michikatsu.

“Go…  I’ll wash up and join you…”

You nodded and walked into the kitchen where you saw Yoriichi standing at the stove with your pink apron on. He looked at you and gave you a smile. “Since you take such good care of us, I wanted to prepare something for you. I read that miso soup is very popular and you had the ingredients for it. Do you like miso soup with silken tofu?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him looking so adorable with your pink apron. “Yes, I love miso soup.”

~ ~ ~

Ever since Kokushibo spoke to you, you were sure that all three of you were getting along very well. You ate together, laughed and talked. Well mainly you talked, because the two of them enjoyed listening to you talk and you finally had the feeling that someone actually wanted to listen to you too. And of course you cared for them too. Pampered them, washed their backs and bought them what they wanted even if that was not much. Yoriichi had once told you that it was enough that you would treat them well as you did now. This always made you question what terrible things had been done to them. How would they dare to treat them badly? You didn't want to think too deeply about it. If they didn’t want to talk and think about it then who were you to do so?

“Ouch!”

You looked at your finger which was starting to bleed. You quickly put your bleeding finger under running water to rinse out the dirt and checked out the wound. Shit, the cut was deeper than expected. Suddenly you felt Michikatsu’s presence very close to you. You jumped. Even after weeks, you couldn't get used to how quietly the two of them moved around the apartment. He looked down at you and your bleeding finger. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” You weren't sure if you were saying this more to yourself than to him, but he wasn't deterred. He took your hand and put your finger in his mouth, licking the blood off. You looked at him with wide eyes. You were even more surprised when he suddenly took you in his arms and carried you to the couch and sat down, you sitting sideways on his lap, taking your bleeding finger into his mouth again. 

You were literally puzzled, but he didn't seem to mind. You had been in the middle of cooking and wanted to tell him so, but he just gave you a look which silenced you.

“Clumsy human, let Yoriichi do the cooking and let me take care of your wound.”

You wanted to say something in response but didn't know what. You had already seen Yoriichi scurrying into the kitchen but were distracted again when Michikatsu gently nibbled on your finger and put it in his mouth.

Since that time he always looked for moments to distract himself by nibbling on your fingers. He seemed to have an oral fixation, or he just liked it. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying it and it didn't bother you, so you let him have his way. It also gave you the chance to look at him up close, as he often didn't allow that.

Michikatsu noticed this of course. “You’re not at all disgusted by my appearance.”

“Why should I?” You did not understand the question.

“Are my eyes not too scary for you?” 

Oh, this is what it was about… “Is this why you always keep all eyes closed and just look with one?”

“No, I keep them closed so that I don’t have sensory overload and… so that you aren’t afraid of me.”

“So I was right?”

He kept silent and you gave him a soft smile. “Please close your eyes.” He did as you asked. You moved closer to him ever so slowly and gently kissed each of his 6 eyelids. When you let go he looked at you in surprise, his 6 eyes wide. This was the first time you could see the emotions so strong on his face. “You are not a monster and never will be to me.”

~ ~ ~

“You are not jealous, right?” you asked Yoriichi, while he was sitting patiently in front of you as you brushed his long beautiful hair. 

He shook his head. “No, why should I?”

“Well… Because I give your brother so much more attention than you.” It was a little bit uncomfortable to admit this, but it was true. Michikatsu was very demanding and jealous from time to time, even if you don’t give him much reason for it. But yet, anytime you were close to Yoriichi or spending time with him, he immediately snatched you away in silence and nibbled on your fingers. 

“But I did ask you to do so, right?”

“I mean, yes you did. But I still feel bad about it. You deserve my attention as much as Michikatsu.”

Yoriichi took your hand, it seemed like the brothers had a fixation with your hands, and kissed your knuckles as he always does when he wants to show his gratitude. “Sitting here with you, hearing you talk, while you touch me so affectionately, is everything I ever wanted.” 

Yoriichi were always able to hit you with the right words and gestures. You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head. “You are such a good boy and deserve the whole world.” You felt Yoriichi shiver from your words.

~ ~ ~

Months passed, the season changed and it was winter. That meant the Christmas markets opened very soon! You were excited because you wanted to show the brothers how beautiful the markets can be. Of course they needed to wear collars, since demon companions were required to wear one by law. You hated it, since you were not able to forget the painful device Michikatsu had had to wear, but you had to adhere to the law. You decided to get the type that was demon friendly without the wisteria pouch for both of them. 

The three of you strolled through the Christmas market, Michikatsu to your left and Yoriichi to your right, and you received a lot of attention. You didn't know if it was because of their height or because of their distinguishing face marks. It could also be due to Michikatsu’s threatening aura, or the fact that they had two horns which identified them as purebloods - a very rare sight to see.

It wasn't important to you. The only important thing was that they had fun like you did and got as many impressions as possible. You curiously looked at all the stands and came across a woodcarver that had beautiful pieces to offer when you suddenly saw a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-bako. You took it carefully and stared at it, fascinated. You always wanted to try it. The idea to get so fixated with a riddle was so appealing to you that you asked about the price. He named the price. You thanked him, placing the puzzle back down, and went to the next stall.

“Why didn’t you buy the puzzle box? You seemed very interested in it.” Yoriichi looked at you questioningly, while Michikatsu lingered in the back, his attention somewhere else.

“Oh, it was a bit too expensive. I wanted to have money for candied apples and to buy you two something you want! The puzzle has no priority.” You gave him a bright smile as the cold air made your cheeks blush.

You threw yourself onto your couch immediately when you got home. Man, you were exhausted. Yoriichi and Michikatsu didn't even seem to show any signs of exhaustion, but you clearly were. Walking for hours had drained you and you just wanted to relax now. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

As usual, they sat down on the couch on either side of you as you made yourself comfortable. It wasn’t long until your head was resting on Yoriichi's lap, him playing softly with your hair while Michikatsu massaged your calves that were sore from all the walking. You felt so comfortable and safe that it didn't take long for you to fall asleep and you missed over half of the movie. You didn’t notice how Yoriichi gently lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed or how he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead while you cuddled yourself onto your blanket.

~ ~ ~

"What is this?" You stared at the small box that was placed in front of you and you didn't hesitate to pick up. It didn't take long for you to realize what it was. It was a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-baku!  You looked excitedly at the beautiful piece. “But where did you get that from, Michi-kun?”

“Michikatsu is very skilled in wood carving,” Yoriichi replied as Michikatsu watched you with interest. “He made me a flute too, see?” He took out the little flute and showed it to you.

You looked at the beautiful piece in awe and then looked over at Michikatsu. “Michi-kun, I didn’t know you were so talented! Yori-kun, can you play on that?”

Yoriichi didn't hesitate and played some soft tunes. You clapped your hands enthusiastically. “You two are so talented!” You watched as Michikatsu turned away and hid his face behind his hair. Was he blushing? You probably saw it wrong… You looked back at your box. These were some refined skills, which made you wonder.

“It never occurred to me to ask you about your hobbies or what activities you like to do…” You felt guilty because until now they had always obediently gone along with everything you wanted but you never asked what they wanted.

The brothers looked at each other, visibly confused by your change of topic. This time Michikatsu spoke to answer your question. “We enjoy…training kendo together… But our previous owners didn’t like it at all… They got scared… Also we always lack the space and the necessary tools.”

"Tools?"

“A bokken, but a simple wooden broomstick will do too,” Yoriichi explained to her.

"Oh! I think I can organize that! Also a place for you to train! The apartment complex has an unused backyard. We can go there in the evening! As often as you want too!”

You three were at the said place. You were not able to find a bokken, but Yoriichi had said that broomsticks are enough for now. You can get them the necessary equipment later. Oh, how happy they would be, you thought excitedly to yourself.

Now you sat in a corner, lulled in your jacket as you watched the two brothers standing in front of each other. They first bowed respectfully and then it began. Their movements were so fluid and elegant that you were barely able to look away. It was a dance between two brothers who couldn't be more different. Like the sun and moon, Yin and yang. You weren't sure who would emerge victorious, but you were still surprised to see Michikatsu a few minutes later on the ground.

Another fight. Michikatsu was on the ground again. It went on like this until the yukatas were thrown over their shoulders, hanging down from the Hakamas. They were both suddenly topless, the cold didn't seem to bother them. You felt heat creeping into you. It wasn't like you'd never seen them topless before, since you washed and bathed them both from time to time. But now they are training. The muscles rippled in harmony with their movements, it was only then that you realized how incredibly sexy they both actually were.

Both were muscular and strongly built. Yoriichi a little leaner than Michikatsu. Your eyes wandered and you couldn't get enough of what was presented in front of you. Wandering up and down until they stopped on the seductive V-line of the two of them. Your eyes switched back and forth and you had to suppress a sigh as Michikatsu lunged forward, flexing his big biceps.

It didn't take long for you to get wet and dampen your panties. Crap. That was not good. You couldn’t be horny for your demons! That's irresponsible! Both of them had immediately stopped and stared at you as if they knew something. You blushed like a tomato.

“It seems like Y/N is cold. We should go home,” Yoriichi said as he put his yukata back on.

Michikatsu nodded and did the same and you were happy that demons were not able to notice things like that, right?

~ ~ ~

You laid in bed, frustrated, not being able to finish what you had started. Fuck, why can’t I come already? For the past hour you were touching yourself, trying to get rid of this horniness and the lewd thoughts that bothered you all evening. But it didn't work!

You huffed, frustrated, pulling your hands from your pants, and rested your arm on your forehead. It has been a while since you touched yourself. Was it possible to unlearn things like that? You didn’t know. What you did know was that you were exhausted and wanted to sleep but the hot images of the two brothers haunted you badly. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by soft knocking. “May we come in?” It was Yoriichi’s soft voice.

You immediately gathered yourself and sat straight in your bed. “Um, y-yes, sure!” The door opened slowly and the two brothers entered your bedroom. “Were you both not able to sleep?”

No answer, only gazes as Michikatsu sat down at the end of your bed and gently massaged your calves while Yoriichi sat close to you and held your hands in his. Normally you didn't have a problem with them being so touchy, you were happy to give them whatever they wanted and secretly you enjoyed it too, but at the moment it wasn't so good. Because you were a bit oversensitive due to your frustration.

Yoriichi looked at you with his soft maroon eyes as he cupped your face. “We sensed your troubles.”

Your furrowed your eyebrows. “My troubles?”

Michikatsu’s hands were gliding a little bit higher onto your thigh. “Yes, your arousal.”

You didn’t know if you were blushing because of the embarrassment of being caught or the feeling of his hands being so close to your core. It also didn’t help that Yoriichi lowered his head closer to your face and talked in his soft beguiling voice. “There is no need to be ashamed, Y/N. You always make sure that we feel good. You care about us so much, never seeing a monster in us. We want to give it back to you…” With each word he came closer, until his lips were on yours. His kiss was so soft and loving that you sighed into the kiss. Yoriichi took that as an invitation for his tongue. 

While Yoriichi distracted you with his sensual kiss, you felt Michikatsu slowly dragging your pants along with your underwear down and spreading your legs. “Brother, she smells so intoxicating…” You felt his breath close to your pussy.

Yoriichi, who let go of you briefly to let you catch a breath, answered his brother. “Her lips are sweeter than anything I’ve tasted before.”

Michikatsu did not wait and licked at your slick like a hungry cat and groaned. “You are right… She tastes like heaven…” With these words he dove into your core and lavished on your juices. You let out a surprised moan as you threw your head back. Your hand grabbed desperately at Yoriichi’s yukata who just watched you, fascinated, and then kissed you again. But he didn’t stay on your lips for long. His mouth traveled down your neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. You felt how his hands were slowly pushing up your loose shirt to cup one of your boobs and massaging it slowly with one hand. His mouth also found his destination and kissed and sucked on your other nipple. 

So many sensations at the same time and you were not sure what to focus on. The knot inside you tightened, and suddenly everything exploded. You came with a loud moan as you threw your head back once again. 

Michikatsu’s lower eyes were closed, his face glistening in your juices. He pushed a single finger into you just to let Yoriichi lick it off. You watched the interaction between them both. It was like he wanted him to know how you tasted. You saw how Yoriichi’s pupils dilated as he tasted your sweet nectar. It was such a lewd image that it made you sigh in anticipation.

You heard your bedsheet ruffle and watched as the brothers swapped their places. Suddenly Michikatsu was in your face, kissing you greedily on the mouth, not letting you take a breath. You were able to taste yourself on his lips but you didn’t mind it at all. Not even that he used his teeth, because all of that was washed away by Yoriichi's tongue and mouth, who was now the one eating you out.

There was a clear difference between the two. Yoriichi was definitely gentler, as were the tongue strokes along your outer labia. Or the way he sucked on your clit. Your left hand was on his head, tangled into his soft waves as you pushed him closer to your cunt, feeling how close you were again.

Your other hand was on Michikatsu, who was pinching your nipples, making you wince and twitch every time, forcing you to keep your attention on him. It was a lot to handle. Lots of feelings and desires at once that you didn't know how to deal with. But they were so strong, able to hold you still while they feasted on you.

Yoriichi hit a point with his tongue that made you come with a loud cry. The waves of the orgasm were so intense that it left you trembling. You had never cum twice in a row in your life.

Yoriichi wiped his face with the back of his hand. Both brothers watched you in awe as you layed there, exhausted from your orgasm.

“She is so beautiful… I want to mark her.”

“Later, when we are inside of her.”

“I am not sure if her bed is able to carry us three.”

“Yes, we should move her to our room with the futons.”

You were not able to distinguish who said what, since your brain felt like mush, but that was not important. You were suddenly lifted up and carried by someone. Your cheek resting on a strong chest. You realized that you were all naked. When did they undress you? You opened your eyes slowly to see his beautiful maroon eyes. “Yori-kun…”

You felt his lips on your forehead and then on your lips again, making you sigh again and heating up the desire in your lower belly. 

“Do you think she can take us both?

“She is stronger than you think.”

“I know.” These two words were said in such loving affection that it made your heart flutter.

“Hey… I am still here,” you protested. “You both prepped me so well I… I think I can handle that.”

"Oh, you do?” The first time in your life you saw how Michikatsu smirked at you as he snatched you away from Yoriichi and sat you down on his lap. 

You felt his hardened cock close to your core, but your eyes were fixated on that smirk of his. He was “...gorgeous…” You leaned forward, your hands on his muscular chest as you kissed him oh so softly. It seemed like he didn’t expect that softness. Never did he expect anything, though he deserved all the softness and kindness.

You poured all your love into the kiss, playing with his hair, nudging his tongue against yours and biting at his lower lip. He groaned and got impatient. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you on the tip of his dick and let you sink down very slowly. “Michi..!” You whimpered and shuddered at the fullness and how good it felt. 

He bottomed out and didn’t move, letting you adjust. Until you moved your hips. “Impatient human,” he murmured as he started sucking on your tit.

You didn't stay still though as you slowly moved your hips and started riding him. His hands grabbed your thighs tightly to help you. Michikatsu couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of your tightness around him. Gosh, it felt so good hearing those noises coming out of him, knowing that you were the cause of it. Making you feel that you had a tiny bit of control even if it was not like that at all.

Suddenly you felt his hands on your waist, moving up to cup your breasts and kneading them; you also felt his lips kissing along your spine, making you shiver as you still moved on top of Michikatsu. You smiled and when his kisses reached your shoulder, you tried to turn your head to look at him, to give him a kiss. Yoriichi came closer but you were interrupted by Michikatsu, who grabbed your chin and turned your head back to him, just to claim your lips harshly and groan into the kiss. 

“H-Hey-” you panted after he left you breathless. “Stop being jealous. I want to kiss Yoriichi too!”

Michikatsu was about to respond when Yoriichi picked you up into his arms without warning. With one fluid movement Michikatsu’s dick slid out of you and you could only go “Oh!” at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Even Michikatsu breathed out harshly at the sudden change and glared at you both.

“Now it's my turn.” You giggled at him teasing his brother and slung your arms over Yoriichi’s neck, your legs around his waist. It was clear that he missed your kisses and you were glad to give him all he could ever want. You started kissing him all over his face - his cheek, his nose, his eyes, and then his lips. You both couldn’t hold back moaning into the kiss when he suddenly sheathed himself into you. You at the fullness he was giving you, and him because you were so tight around his cock.

You marveled at his strength as he held you up so easily, starting to move inside of you at a slow pace. You felt safe in his arms; you knew he wouldn’t even think of dropping you.

You felt the jealous glare on your back and it didn’t take long until Michikatsu got up to stand behind you. One of his hands pushed your hair aside so he was able to kiss and nibble on your left shoulder. You felt his chest pressed on your back as his fingers slid up to spread your wetness and lube you up with additional saliva. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome, as Yoriichi’s careful thrusts distracted you from Michikatsu’s motions behind you.

Soon enough, he retracted his fingers and replaced them with his tip. He was so careful with you - a contrast to his earlier roughness - moving in tandem with Yoriichi to bring you pleasure rather than pain. The feeling of them both inside you was overwhelming and you didn’t know what else to do other than to hold tightly onto Yoriichi’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. 

Michikatsu’s hands joined Yoriichi’s on your thighs. It felt as if the heat of their touch burned you to the core and even if you wanted to get out, it was impossible. You were placed so tightly between the two brothers, moving in sync into you, you could not move at all.

One of your hands reached behind you so you could grab onto Michikatsu’s neck. The other one still gripping onto Yoriichi. The angle changed, and you saw stars, clenching tightly around both of them making them both groan. They sped up, the pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Please…!” You begged, not knowing what for, but it seemed like they knew.  

You were not sure if you saw it correctly as your brain was not able to comprehend anything logical at that moment but you saw a change in Yoriichi’s face as if he was communicating with his brother. 

The knot inside you tightened for the third time that night. You cried out their names as they thrusted harder into you making your vision blur. This time your release was more intense than you’d ever experienced, but before it could ebb away you felt teeth on both of your shoulders.

You could only cry out and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

Ah shit... Why does my shoulder hurt so much?

You woke up between two muscle-bound bodies and didn't know where you were until you remembered the last night. “Oh fuck…” you whispered and immediately put your hand over your mouth when someone started to grumble in annoyance. Did you wake one of them? Suddenly you were pulled by a strong hand and pressed against a muscular chest. “Stop thinking too much, human, sleep a little bit more. You need rest.”

You looked up into the face of Michikatsu, who had narrowed one of his lower eyes to look at you. You couldn't contradict him because you felt tiredness overcoming you again and you fell back into a deep sleep, safe in his arms.

You woke up again, but this time on Yoriichi's chest, who was playing with your hair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning…” You yawned and looked around, realizing that you both were alone on the futons. “Where is Michikatsu…?”

“He is preparing a bath for you. How do you feel?” He watched you as he waited for your answer.

How did you feel? You were not sure if you thought about last night. Did you regret it? No… But your shoulders were killing you. “My shoulders hurt and I feel sore, but that’s it.”

“Oh, that’s because we marked you.” 

“Marked me?”

“Yes,” he smiled at you, “We are now mates.”

Mates… Wait what?! Was that even possible between a human and demons? You heard about this rumour that demons were able to mate each other, but fuck… This was the last thing you ever expected. “What will happen now?”

“First of all you are going to take a bath while we take care of you.” Michikatsu appeared at the door frame as he looked at the both of you, laying naked on top of each other.

~ ~ ~

Even if it was weird in the beginning you quickly got used to the idea of being mated to both of your demons. You hadn’t been sure what to do with the situation and called your friend, who just told you that she had also got mated with her demon. It was not a common thing at all, actually unheard of, but here you were, having not one but two demon mates.

You asked them if that was something common, to have two demons, but they shook their heads. “It’s probably because we are twins and very attached to each other. Perhaps it was inevitable we would share a mate,” Yoriichi told you, while he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“Who would have thought that we would mate with a clumsy human?” You saw the smirk on Michikatsu’s face that now happened to appear more after that night. He seated himself next to you both and snatched you away from Yoriichi again. It seemed like a game between the two brothers at this point - as if they were not able to share a toy.

You faux-sulked. You just took his face into your hands and gave him a long loving kiss. Then you felt how he placed something on your lap. 

It was a wooden carving of a woman with two tall men at her sides and looking closer, you realized it was the three of you. The gift nearly made you spill tears, touched by his gesture of love.

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

these last 3 chapters more than ever have left me wondering about the timeline of spy x family and in particular,

donovan's age.

i'm not going to go too deep into the full timeline because i simply don't think we have enough info to make a real robust timeline, BUT i do think we can very feasibly approximate donovan's age with our current info.

I also won’t be using any precise years like 1964 or whatever bc at this moment in time I find that to be kind of useless, bc the only years we have happen very early in the story in background details and for a lot of those ones, I noticed endo had a tendency to just carelessly put whatever so long as it looked fine from afar, which includes news that were happening around the time of that chapter's release. SO unless he decides to explicitly highlight actual years, I’m not gonna be like “this happened in 1964 and that happened in 1953” and anything of the sort.

now, i shall partake in my least favorite activity.

✨math.✨

so uh buckle up my fellas and feel free to correct me anywhere where i might be wrong bc i am more than aware that math is NOT my strong suit!

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 97, 98 AND 99!

gonna start with the facts!

according to the spy x family EYES ONLY fanbook, henry henderson is 66 years old at the time of the current events of spy x family! in the past three chapters we have learned that there is a 3 year age gap between him and martha, so that would make her 63 years old currently.

as of the events of chapter 99, he is 22 years old (and martha is 19), assuming there wasn't any years-long time gap that was not mentioned within the chapter! which, it doesn’t seem like there were any MASSIVE time gaps, so I’ll be using those ages for calculating.

so, what all this means is that we are (roughly) 44 years into the past at the moment! previous info about the war of loid and yor's childhoods puts it at around 20 years old, so from where we are in the backstory, we still have roughly 20 more years before Luwen is attacked — clearly, because this first war has already ended with donovan still in school.

while we don't have loid's age, we do have yor's, who is 27 years old — meaning she was born around the time of henry being 39 years old, aka clearly neither loid nor yor have been born yet as of the events of chapter 99. too into the past for now!

now, how am i gonna get donovan's age out of all this?

simple! henry's his teacher and has a talk with him after his jail time.

like I mentioned previously, I shall be sticking to 22 for henry’s age here. it may not be fully correct, it may be a year or two off because we aren’t given concrete details on exactly how long he was in jail, so just take it with a grain of salt! it's only going to remain as a rough estimate until we get a definitive answer on donovan's age.

so! henry has a talk with donovan, but the conversation itself, while very important for the plot and especially for our understanding of donovan’s character, is irrelevant for this conversation. no, what's crucial here is what henry is holding. endo even highlights it by focusing an entire larger panel on it!

it's a history textbook for year 7 students!

it being a history textbook is very poignant for the conversation they're having, but the reason this is important to me is because it's very clearly a year 7 textbook.

now, i don't know how much of eden academy's curriculum is based on the uk! but because pretty much all of the architecture of it is based on eton college and endo has literally just returned from a london trip where he showed us he visited a kindergarten, so i think that's grounds enough for me to assume eden academy's year 7 is generally populated by children between 11 and 12 years old. luckily for me, that seems to be the general age for germany's secondary school year 7 too, so even if it's not the british one, it's still close enough!

with all that being said, if donovan is, say, 12 in that moment and henry is 22, that means there is a 10 year difference between the two of them, which, drum roll please, means donovan desmond is 56 years old when our story's events take place! assuming the war of loid's and yor's childhoods took place exactly 20 years ago (when yor was 7 and henry was 46), this would make him around 36 years old when he became ostania's prime minister! it would also mean he had damian at 50 years old, and if demetrius is 12 right now, that would mean he was born when donovan was 44 years old (and his birth would’ve been in the last years of the war).

so, rough events timeline based on all that, focusing on ages!

66 years ago: Henry Henderson is born.

63 years ago: Martha Marriott is born.

~56 years ago: Donovan Desmond is born.

49 years ago: Martha (14) transfers to Eden and meets Henry (17)

47 years ago: Henry (19) graduates Eden.

44 years ago: Henry (22) joins Eden as a teacher, in the same year becomes Donovan Desmond’s (~12) history teacher. Martha (19) graduates Eden and joins the Women’s Defense Auxiliary.

~44 years ago: Martha (~19) is presumed dead. Henry (~22) faces jail time. The war ends, and he marries.

27 years ago: Yor is born. At that time, Henry is 39, Martha is 36, and Donovan is 29.

~27 years ago. [REDACTED] is also born. Same as above, just approximate this time!

~20 years ago: Second war begins. Yor and [REDACTED] are ~7, Henry is ~46, Martha is ~43, Donovan is ~36. Yuri is born.

~12 years ago: Demetrius is born. Donovan is ~44, Yor and [REDACTED] are ~15, Henry is ~54, Martha is ~51, Yuri is ~8.

~10 years ago: Second war ends. Demetrius is ~2, Donovan is ~46, Yor and [REDACTED] are ~17, Henry is ~56, Martha is ~53, Yuri is ~10.

6 years ago: Damian is born (and most other kids in his and Anya’s grade). Demetrius is ~6, Donovan is ~50, Henry is 60, Martha is 57, Yor is 21, Twilight is ~21, Yuri is 14.

5-4 years ago: Anya is born. Damian (etc.) are 1-2, Demetrius is 7-8, Donovan is ~51-52, Henry is 61-62, Martha is 58-59, Yor is 22-23, Twilight is ~22-23, Yuri is 15-16.

1 year ago: Yuri (19) becomes part of the SSS. Anya is 3-4, Damian (etc.) is 5, Demetrius is 10-11, Donovan is ~55, Henry is 65, Martha is 62, Yor is 26, Twilight is ~26.

I HOPE THAT HELPS PUT THINGS INTO PERSPECTIVE?? melinda is not included bc we have nothing to go off of for her age outside of purely subjective things like her appearance.

super glad endo included the year 7 thing JAKLSDFKLSD

anyway thank you for reading!!! :DD

[hxney-lemcn]

Worst to best characters to be friends with if you have anxiety

this is all based off of me and my personal anxiety. Obvi other people are anxious about different things and on different levels (not to mention my biases towards characters).

WORST

Kalim: sorry. As much as I love him I don’t think I could handle it. It’s not just the parties, it’s like…everything. My anxiety stems from a fear of not being in control (haha) so the fact that he’s so carefree would actually kill me.

Floyd: I like him a lot too but he’s a nightmare. I’d be so scared around him 😭 I wouldn’t want to accidentally set him off so I’d always be on edge and once again, his carefree ‘let’s skip class’ nature would kill me.

Rook: he’s scary. Like honestly. If this was real life and he was actually following me I would actually be in a constant panic. No thanks. And when he’s dramatic it brings more attention on him and you by default for being by him so no thanks.

Lilia: I could not handle him. I don’t think our humor would match and I’d get very awkward. Not to mention how outgoing he is, sorry it’s a bit much for me.

Sebek: he’s constantly screaming about his waka-sama. Do you know how embarrassing that would be? To not only be yelled at but by a fanboy?? I think I’d just wither on the spot. I can’t handle all those eyes on me.

Leona: so he’s actually kind of high, but that’s cus he’s so mean if he doesn’t know you 😭 I think I’d actually cry cus I’d feel so anxious if he were to say something to me. I swear I’m not sensitive Leona just kinda doesn’t hold back and I can’t handle all that.

Vil: Gah he’s one of my favs but he’d intimidate me so badly. I’d be so quiet around him hoping he doesn’t notice my existence 😭 I couldn’t handle his criticism either, I do not have the right mindset for that (it would get me stressed so quickly).

Cater: another fav, but sadly, I’d be easily embarrassed if he filmed himself in public. Or if he tried to post stuff of me cus like…he’s got a good amount of followers. Yeah no thanks. I don’t like being perceived. But his bubbly personality would help me calm down.

Azul: idk how to explain this one. Like he pretends to be this nice guy but then swindles you. He’d be on my watch list which means I’ll be more on guard around him. I’d probably just avoid him if anything.

Ruggie: idk, he’s the character I understand the least, so I’d probs just be awkward around him. His humor is different than mine so I would do that awkward laugh and it’s just not a good scenario. No thanks.

Epel: he keeps trying to fight people. No way is that good for my heart 😭 I’d be so embarrassed trying to pretend like I don’t know him 💀

Jade: he’d intimidate me a lot at first, but then we could talk about mushrooms and marine life and I think we could be chill. I can have a more morbid sense of humor so his ‘threats’ (I don’t think he’s actually lethally poisoned anyone) would seem more like jokes to me.

Ace: so he literally insults Yuu right off the bat. He’d probs do the same to me. So yeah, not a fan. Make me feel like shit. But once your friends it’s better, but all the shit he gets into…not my style. (He would be a good friend tho, maybe just a bit dense about anxiety stuff and accidentally say something really mean/condescending)

Jamil: love this guy, but he would scare me at first (ok tbf any person I don’t know scares me…). Like he’s got this responsible aura and I wouldn’t wanna mess him up and he’d probs be a bit cold shouldered. But I think we would get along over time, and he’d be considerate of me so he’s closer to the middle.

Jack: don’t get me wrong, dude is super nice and has a kind heart (reason why he’s closer to the best), but he’s a total tsundere. The quietness and the whole ‘but it’s not cus I like you’ thing would just make me feel awkward.

Idia: ik, surprising he isn’t the best with all the stuff I’ve been writing about him, but let’s be honest. First meeting and neither of us are talking. And it will probs be like that for a while, so he’s a bit high on my list. Ofc once you get to know each other it’s a lot better cus y’all can be emotional support buddies but yeah.

Deuce: bro has a homey vibe. He’s a bit dense and used to be a delinquent, but if I’m meeting him at NRC then I think we’d get along well. He’s a sweetheart and that would make me like him quickly and not be so anxious lol

Riddle: ok so he’s so close to the best BECAUSE!!! My anxiety about not having control? He 100% relates and we’d probably bond over it 😭 plus I love having rules to follow so I know I’m not doing anything wrong…yeah I relate to Riddle a bit too much (just on a much, much lower level. It’s not that bad I swear)

Malleus: why is he so close to best? Well…he is really warm when he first meets Yuu. I think that he is a bit intimidating, but his personality would quickly win me over and make me feel safe with him.

Ortho: hello? The sweetest person at NRC? Need I say more?

Silver: literally the chillest man alive. AND he has animals following him? Say less. Not to mention how nice he’d be if you told him you were anxious. He’d always look out for you and try to find a solution.

Trey: wow. Ngl, I’m not a huge fan of him (nothing wrong with him he just never caught my eye), but even I gotta admit Trey is probably one of the most level headed there is. He handled Riddle really well (for a teen) and ik he’d be a really good person to be friends with. Def a guy you want in your corner if crowds get to be too much.

BEST

Leave a comment about who you think would be best or worst. Just pls don’t start fighting ����

[reputationmunson]

Delicate | S.H x fem!reader

summary: Steve can’t figure out why he’s so upset that you, his best friend, is going on a date until Robin gives him a reality check

content: fluff, friends to lovers, use of y/n, she/her pronouns, probably too cheesy and cliche

word count: 2.9K

a/n: honestly i didn’t have the energy to proofread this sorry for any mistakes!

_

Every Friday night, you and Steve can be found watching a movie in his basement, curled up on the couch with every snack imaginable scattered around you. Yes, it’s simple, maybe even mundane to some, but there’s nowhere else the two of you would rather be. 

Steve has been your best friend since you were nine. You’d stuck by each other through everything. Even during his ‘king steve’ phase, you never strayed from him. Sure, things were different at that time, but you knew the sweet boy you met on the playground was still in there somewhere. He just needed someone to coax that side of him back out and that person just happened to be you. 

Everyone always speculated you two were more than friends. Your parents constantly joked that in a few years you’d be married with a house full of kids. Your friends always referred to you as ‘Mr. and Mrs. Harrington’, the kids called you ‘mom and dad’. Neither of you would correct anyone, but would laugh about it instead. 

Despite what literally everyone in your life thinks, nothing romantic has ever happened between the two of you. Sure, you were both touchy and cuddly, but that’s normal between two best friends. You also might’ve had a crush on him freshman year of high school, but quickly got over it when you realized those feelings would never be reciprocated. But, you were so wrong, you just didn’t know it yet. Neither did Steve. 

By the time the credits of the movie roll, you're half asleep with your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you. You’ve never thought of the cuddling between you as being romantic. You just always felt so comfortable with Steve and he felt the same way around you. He had a way about him that made you feel safe and secure, like every time you were with him nothing bad could happen. 

“Hey” Steve whispers, his hand gently rubbing up and down your arm “do you wanna stay tonight?” 

“Mmhmm” you nod your head and look at him with a sleepy smile. “I’ll help you clean up” you offer and he shakes his head “We’ll clean up tomorrow. Who would steal all the blankets if you passed out from exhaustion down here?” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes and follow him up to his bedroom. “You’re the blanket thief and you know it, Harrington” 

You and Steve have shared a bed more times than you can count.  You’d fall asleep in his arms and wake up with your bodies intertwined. Sometimes, when he thinks you’re still asleep, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead. Which is normal for two people who were just friends… isn’t it?

“So, we got this move in at family video that looks super cheesy and awful. Wanna watch it tomorrow night?” he asks as you climb into bed next to him. “Oh, I meant to tell you about this earlier but I’m going on a date tomorrow!” you sound excited and he knows it sounds awful, but for some reason that makes his stomach churn. He tries to play it cool, anyway. 

“A date, huh? Who ya ditchin’ me for, babe?” babe. He always calls you ‘babe’ or ‘honey’ or any sickeningly sweet pet name that never fails to make you feel flustered. “Brad Mckinley” you tell him and Steve has to hold back a scoff. 

Brad McKinley? That asshole? Steve can’t believe you’d give him a second of your time, let alone a date. 

“Really? He’s like a huge douchebag” 

“How do you know? you go on a date with him?” you taunt. 

“He wishes he could get a date with a babe like me. But, c’mon, seriously? He comes into the store all the time with a new girl on his arm and always acts like he’s, I don’t know, better than me. When did he even ask you out?” 

“A few days ago. We were both at the supermarket and I almost ran into him in the parking lot with my shopping cart, so I apologized and he said he’d forgive me if I went on a date with him. I thought that was cute and thought he was ever cuter, so i said yes” 

Wow, what a line, Steve thinks to himself. “Isn’t he known for having sex with girls and never talking to them again?”

“Steve, this is the first date I'm going on in forever. I don’t really get asked out often. Can’t you be happy for me?” 

You do get asked out often, just not directly. Sometimes you and Steve will be out somewhere and guys will come up to him and once he says you aren’t his girlfriend, they try to get him to be his wingman. Steve always comes up with an excuse so they don’t talk to you, but now when you aren’t around, he’s started telling them that you are his girlfriend. He tells himself he only does it to protect, not because he wants you to be his girlfriend. That would be crazy. 

“If you’re happy then I am, I guess. Anyways, i’m like super fucking tired. let’s go to bed” you can’t tell if his tone is from being upset or tired, but you brush it off and close your eyes after curling up to him and telling him goodnight. 

Steve doesn’t sleep much that night. He’s too worried about you. You’re loving and shy. Soft spoken and kind. Sometimes too kind. He worries your kindness might be taken advantage of and he refuses to let that happen. Ever.

_ 

Saturday rolls around and Steve has been sulking all day. He was a little awkward with you this morning before you left. You tried to ask him multiple times if he was okay before you left and he blamed his behavior on being tired, so you let it go. When you left, he told you to have fun on your date, but it came out more sarcastic than intended. 

“What is your deal, dude? You have a look on your face like someone stuck a lemon in your mouth while you were sleeping” Robin says and Steve’s brows furrow more than they have been all day. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re acting weird. Weirder than usual” she states and Steve sighs “y/n is going on a date” 

“And that’s a problem because you’re in love with her? Right?”

“I am not in love with her! She’s going on a date with Brad Mckinley and I’m just worried about her. As a friend” He adds the last part to make himself perfectly clear, but Robin still isn’t convinced. “You’re jealous” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is to everyone, but Steve. 

“That’s crazy. She’s my best friend”

“No. I’m your best friend. She’s your girlfriend without the label”

“That’s ridiculous. She-” Steve starts to defend himself, but Robin interrupts him. “No, it’s not. Just think about it, okay? You two cuddle all the time, you hold her hand when she’s feeling nervous, and you let her touch your precious hair but if anyone else tried to do that you’d swat their hand away. That’s all boyfriend and girlfriend stuff. She even sits on your lap, your lap, Steve.” 

He’s left speechless. He’s not in love with you, is he? Steve knows his friendship with you isn’t as conventional as others, but neither of you thought it was unusual. If anything, it would be unnatural if there were no innocent touches between the two of you or glances at each other from across the room that resulted in what can only be described as lovesick smiles. Steve thinks he’d die if he could never hold you again the way he does now. But, you’re going on a date. With someone else. 

This guy could end up being your boyfriend who will get to be the one to hold you, you’ll play with his hair, and grab his hand in a crowded room when you’re feeling overwhelmed and Steve will have to watch from the sidelines, wishing that was him. Fuck, he wants that to be him. Forever. 

“Holy shit, you’re realizing it aren’t you?” Robin grins and Steve feels the past twelve years of feelings he’s repressed and dismissed come crashing down on him all at once. He’s been so hopelessly and desperately in love with you all this time and it terrifies him. You are the best thing that's ever happened to him. What if he loses you? He couldn’t bear not having you in his life. He’d never recover. 

“Holy shit” he breathes out “I love her. I’m fucking in love with her. Why didn’t you guys tell me!” he shouts. Good thing the store was dead. “We thought you knew!” she shouts back. “You have to tell her. Like, immediately” 

“I can’t do that” he grumbles, feeling defeated before he’s already tried. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? I mean, I know she doesn’t. There's no way”

“You cannot be that much of an idiot. Do you not see the way she looks at you? You should hear the way she talks about you when you’re not around. Last week when you were late to the get together because you had to work, she was all worried and kept asking what time it was. We could literally talk about ice cubes and she’d find a way to relate the story to you. It’s kinda nauseating, but cute, too” 

“You really think she feels the same way?” Steve lights up at the thought of there being even a one percent chance that you love him the way he loves you. “It’s sort of hard to not pick up on when I’ve been watching you idiots make heart eyes at each other every time we all hang out. When does she leave for her date?” Steve checks his watch “An hour. I don’t get off work for three hours, so that’s just great” he complains. 

“I’ll cover for you. Go get your girl”

_ 

Steve races to your house. Speed limit be damned, he’s not letting anything stop him. His shaky hands grip the steering wheel and he’s so nervous that he’s debated stopping a couple times to puke on the side of the road. 

What is he even going to say to you? ‘Hey, I know you’re going on a date but I’ve been in love with you for most of my life. Wanna be my girlfriend?’yeah, that’s not gonna cut it. You deserve flowers, or a poem, or a goddamn flashmob, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t exactly have the time to get a group together for a choreographed dance that declares his feelings, so he’ll have to rely on speaking from the heart. That shouldn’t be too difficult…right?

Despite being on a time limit, he’s been sitting outside your house for ten minutes. He can’t seem to move. The fear of rejection and all of this happening so fast has his head spinning. Robin's words echo in his mind and he musters up just enough courage to find his way to your front door, knocking frantically. 

“Steve? Shouldn’t you be at work?” your voice is shaky and your eyes are red. You’ve been crying. He’s going to fucking kill that guy. “y/n, what’s wrong?” his eyes soften and his heart constricts. You invite him inside and he follows you to the living room, taking a seat next to you.

“Um, Brad cancelled our date because Missy Tucker asked him out” you laugh, humourlessly. Steve is furious and hates to see you upset, but he can’t help but take this as a sign. Here he was, prepared to stop you from going on that date and all along the universe was on his side. He’s gonna have to send Missy Tucker a thank you card right after he eggs Brad’s beloved car. 

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry.” his arm drapes around your shoulder and you melt into his touch. “It’s fine. I didn’t think he was my soulmate or anything. I just wanted to feel pretty and wanted, I guess” you nervously fiddle with Steve’s hand, feeling embarrassed at your admission. 

Steve gently grabs your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “You are pretty and you are wanted” 

“I don’t think I am” you whisper. “Are you kidding? You’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins. Shit, probably the world. The nicest, too. You’re always there for me, even when I was an asshole and I don’t know if I’ve ever even thanked you for that. Oh, and you’re funny too, like in a really witty way ‘cause you’re so smart-”

“Steve” you interrupt his endearing ramble “thank you, but you have to say those things. You’re my best friend” 

He positions himself on the couch so he can look at you, putting his hand under your chin to tilt your head up so he can see your beautiful eyes. When he looks at you, it’s like he's seeing you for the first time. You aren’t just the girl he met a recess that’s been attached to his hip ever since. You’re the girl that makes him feel on top of the world whenever he’s with you. You’re the girl whose touch makes him putty in your hands. You’re who he sees a future with and he can’t believe it took him this long to figure out. 

“Best friend or not, it’s true. All of it” he promises. “Then why has no one ever loved me? Like, been in love with me.”

“You’re wrong” he insists. “Like, really wrong” he huffs out a laugh and you give him a puzzled expression. “When you told me about your date I felt kinda weird about it and I thought I was just being a good friend, ya know? But I think it’s more than that…” 

You feel like you’ve stopped breathing. Is he going to say what you think he is? You never thought that he’d feel this way about you. You always believe the feelings you held for him were one-sided, so you pushed it down and replaced them with gentle touches and acts of kindness in hopes that maybe those things could lead to more, but they never did. Not until now. 

“What do you mean?” you ask softly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I want you to tell me. I need to hear it, Steve. Please” 

He takes a deep breath before speaking up again “I wanna give you the huge declaration you deserve. Something like standing outside your window with a boombox and a dozen flowers that are as pretty as you, but I don’t have any of that. I could sing though, if you want?” he jokes and you giggle. “Not necessary. I, um, could go first if you’re nervous” you suggest, even though you don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous in your life. “Yeah, I’d like that”

“I love you, Steve. In fact, I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love you. I don’t need an over the top announcement. I just need to know you feel the same way” You keep your confession simple because the only thing you want to do is shout from the top of your lungs how much you love him. 

“I love you too. So much that it’s crazy and scares me a little. I even accidentally flew past a stop sign on my way over here”

“You did not’’ you gasp. “I did and I’d do it again. For you” 

He’s looking at you like he has a million times before, but this time it’s different. His eyes flicker down to your lips and you do the same. “Can you kiss me, Stevie?” Fuck, he loves it when you call him that. It makes him weak in the knees, just like everything else that you do.

He lays a hand on your cheek and gives you the cutest grin you’ve ever seen. You both lean in and when he kisses you, you feel lightheaded and giddy. Neither of you can stop smiling, making it difficult to kiss and you both laugh. 

“Stop smiling, goof. I wanna kiss you” he whines. “I can’t help it! I’m too happy” you squeal and he practically tackles you, overwhelmed with joy. You lay on the couch with him on top of you, his weight slightly crushing you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Wanna try again?” he nose nudges yours and you cradle his head to gently pull him closer to you as his lips glide over yours in a perfect balance. 

Of course, there’s sparks and fireworks, but you also feel at peace. This kiss feels like coming home. You’re right where you’ve always meant to be. 

“Do you wanna be my girl?” he asks once he slightly pulls back from you. His face is still very close to yours and you swear that his eyes are shimmering. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted” 

Steve tells you at least one hundred times that night that he loves you and you tell him the same. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing or saying those three words. They just sound so beautiful being muttered in between endless kisses. 

_

the end

_

[sketchedspiders]

Cotag actually breaks my fucking heart knowing the reality of their relationship and the fact that they could never be able to truly love each other.

1. Their workplace literally steals their mind, body, and soul so they can just become machines that don’t think of or take interest in anything else.

2. It’s the 1970s and they’re both guys; being gay wasn’t allowed anywhere back then.

[Full analysis under the cut + Spoilers]

[Keep in mind some of this is my own interpretations, but it still goes off canon)

Normal Guy literally tells Protag this when he tells him that Coworker was a great help and they got along well.

He gets frustrated by this fact and worries that Coworker is a distraction for Protag. He doesn’t want them to form a relationship of any kind because it would distract them from their work. Immediately after Normal Guy tells him that, he goes on to ask this:

Maybe I’m reaching right now because this question comes up no matter what, but for this it’s important. There’s multiple reasons and aspects as to why he asked this question, but one of them could be the fact that if Protag did feel anything around Coworker, then Normal Guy would know. It’s hard to explain, but think about a racing heart for example. People’s heart rate increases when they’ve infatuated by somebody, and when they see that person do even the tiniest things it makes them flustered. If they become nervous around that person, their breathing may become weird; which is why it brings us to this question. If Normal Guy finds an abnormality in Protag’s body that would prevent him from working, he would wanna know the reason, and if that reason is Coworker, then it pushes him to think their relationship is even more of a distraction to the both of them.

Normal Guy wants all his employees to dedicate their entire lives to the company. He doesn’t want them forming any sort of relationship that’s not entirely business related. If Protag’s heart is in something else, then that would create a multitude of problems. Not even his organs belong to him anymore, so neither of them even get the option to be together fully.

I think it’s also important to note that if you do choose the option to tell Normal Guy that Protag and Coworker did get along, this can lead you to get the bad ending where he literally erases Protag’s entire identity and makes him a different person. It’s wrong for them to be together no matter the circumstance, and their entire lives would be erased, along with their original relationship.

However, if the company did allow them to have a full on relationship, it wouldn’t have worked anyways. They’d be a gay couple in the 1970s, and homophobia was not only rampant back then but it was illegal. People would get arrested, sent to conversion therapy, or even lobotomized for being homosexual.

I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a LONG time, and this is also what pushed me to write “I wish you were born a girl” (yes hi I’m destroymeiloveyou on ao3 I’m exposing my identity for a moment here and if you don’t know wtf I’m talking about then ignore this).

They could be together in private theoretically, but with them being gay and also working at a company that doesn’t even want their employees to have a life outside of work, it’d be near impossible. Both of them would be at a constant risk of losing everything. Although, they already have given up so much for their work, would it even be worth it?

Coworker is already a closeted person with his feelings and such. He puts up a narcissistic front because of how insecure he is. His title means everything to him because he doesn’t have much else. It gives him a sense of security, and he wants somebody else to recognize that because he wants to feel loved. That’s a whole other analysis for later, but taking this into account with everything else, would he be willing to give up the little that he has to give him security for a relationship that was doomed from the beginning?

With how desperate he tries to impress others (especially Protag), and how attached he is to his title as well as his nepotism, his life being turned upside down just like that would be a nightmare. Everybody would turn against him, and no longer would he be the star employee at the company. In reality, he would be just as in denial about his feelings as Protag would be.

Also. ALSO!!! Speaking of Protag, it is heavily implied and agreed upon that Protag has religious trauma because of floor 4. If he did grow up in a strict, christian household, he would definitely have internalized homophobia.

The sight of a cross makes him nervous, meaning he’s probably no longer christian, but it has left a longterm effect on him.

This means that despite how he left his christian past behind, the things he was taught as a kid has never left him.

If his parents wanted him to be a “good kid” and follow God, I think they would’ve taught him that homosexuality is a sin. That’s one of the lessons that have also never left him, and he still stands by it even if hiding his identity makes him miserable.

Although, no matter how hard he tries, it’ll be obvious his heart will never be in the company or christian values. He’s gonna end up hurt and hurting whether he hides his feelings or not, which is just as tragic. He’d feel terrible once he recognizes how he feels about Coworker and I don’t think he’d ever confess. Protag would just suppress his feelings and they would both suffer silently.

If either of them did end up confessing, they still wouldn’t ever be able to truly get together anyways.

So, cotag could be in love, but they would never actually be able to be romantically together or express their feelings at all. They can do the littlest acts, like spending time with each other on breaks, but it’ll never be enough.

It’s not even right person, wrong time; it’s wrong person, wrong time.

I would write WAY more and I’ll probably yap about this later too because I’ve been keeping this to myself for so long, but I have to cut this short for now.

I probably sound like matpat right now with how im reaching with some of this stuff but I don’t care I need everybody to suffer along with me LMFAOO

I would add a funny image here but I’ve reached the limit. Anyways if you have any questions PLEASE let me know I love yapping about my cotag interpretations and theories

[bbrissonn]

𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which you lay alone in your bed at night wondering where your relationship with the young star went wrong

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting 

HUGH DISCLAIMER: this fic doesnt have a clear ending. i literally have no motivation to continue this, but i cannot find it in myself to start my next work for this album until this one is out. so yeah, sorry about that :)

warnings: angst, swearing , not proofread  

pairing: jack hughes x reader

wc: 2.6k (including lyrics)

guts masterlist

Cat got my tongue

And I don’t think I get along with anyone

Blood runnin’ cold

I’m on the outside of the greatest inside joke

And I hate all my clothes

Feels like my skin doesn’t fit right over my bones

So I guess I should go

The party’s done, and I’m no fun, I know, I know

I know, I know

Ever since you had moved to New York in early 2022, it felt like it had been living a lie. Like this life you were living wasn’t yours, like you had just stolen it from someone. Growing up, you had always been homeschooled, meaning your social life was slime to none. So, it was safe to say that when you chose to move to New York for a job your mom’s friend had offered you, you were scared. 

You only had two real friends, who you barely ever saw because of their busy scheduled with school before, and even more now since you three were all over the country doing your own things. Luckily for you, there was a girl only 2-3 years older than you at your job, meaning you had someone to talk to if you felt the need. After a month of two, the two of you became friends, growing ever closer when you realized you lived in apartment blocks next to each other. 

Which is how you found yourself at a bar on a saturday night in October of that year. Mailey had convinced you to come with her, claiming the two of you needed to decompress from your busy week at work. You rolled your eyes at first, but agreed none the less. Ever since this summer, you found yourself starting to go out more, joining Mailey and her friends every once in a while. Only this time was so much different than the others. 

There was a big group of maybe 20ish guys, age ranging from young adults to full grown men, taking up most of the place. The two of you were confused, seeing as this bar barely ever had people coming in, and it was mainly the same people coming here every week. So, a group of random guys neither of them had seen around before certainly peeked your interest. 

“What do you think they’re doing here?” You asked as the two of you sat down at your usual spot. The group occupying the opposite side of the room. 

“Don’t know. But they’re not buying that cheap booze.” Mailey mumbled, her eyes focused on the insane amount of liquor at the couple of tables they were occupying. The two of you eventually started forgetting about them, talking about random things that happened throughout the week. 

“Not to freak you out, but there’s a guy that keeps looking at you. A cute guy.” The girl across from you said after about an hour of the two of you being there. You furred your brows slightly at her words, before turning your head in their direction. That’s when you met his eyes for the first time. He had a slight grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, nodding along to whatever the guy next to him was saying. You sent him a small smile, waving slightly, which he answered with a nod. 

“More like hot guy.” You mumbled, looking back over at your best friend. You had had a couple of flings here and there, but nothing ever serious, and you were never used to getting boys’ attention on a night out. 

“He’s going to the bar. Go talk to him.” Mailey announced, making you turn your head to look at him. At the same time, he looked over at your table, sending you a small wink when your eyes met. 

“Rich coming from someone who always says girls don’t chase, they attract.” You teased, making her roll her eyes. You eventually decided to go up to him later that night, talking for a bit before exchanging numbers. Jack, you learned his name was, didn’t seem to want to get into talking about his group of friend too much, so you kept all your questions to yourself. 

Over the next couple of weeks, the two of you got to know each other. Your friendship slowly formed and the two of you grew closer each other. But, clearly Jack was still holding back on some stuff. He still refused to open up about his friends and what he does as a living exactly. You told yourself that he’d tell you when he was ready, but you were getting a little impatient, which is why you pretty much forced the answer out of him when you went over to his apartment one day. 

“When are you gonna tell me?” You asked, pausing the show the two of you were watching. Your words made him look over at you, a confused expression on his face as his eyes met yours. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When are you gonna tell me truth, Jack. If that’s even your name.” You sassed, making the boy next to you let out a deep sigh as he threw his head back. 

“D’you wanna see my birth certificate?” He answered coldly, making you scoff. “What I do doesn’t matter, Y/N, so just drop it.” 

“If it doesn’t matter than why won’t you tell me, Jack? You know pretty much everything about me and my life, and barely know anything from yours. God, you won’t even tell me the names of your brothers!” 

“Why do you care so much?” 

“Because I like you, Jack! And… and I though you liked me back, but clearly I was wrong.” You admitted, standing up from your spot on the couch as you started packing up your things. “Just forget it.” You mumbled as you started making your way to the door. You were stopped right as you were about to grab onto the doornob. 

“Y/N, wait!” He said, grabbing your wrist and turning you around before you could leave. “I like you too, Y/N, and I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you, but I didn’t want what I do in life to influence how you see me. I’ve had way too many people use me and I didn’t want that to happen again because I really like you.” 

“Jack, I made it clear hundreds of that time that I what you do in life wouldn’t change the way I see you, but you kept hiding from me. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.” You explained with a scoff. The boy in front of you sighed before cupping your face in his head, his forehead leaning against yours. 

“I know, I know, I should’ve told you a long time ago. But what we have, it’s really special to me, and it’s so good. I didn’t want to ruin it.” 

“You’d have to be a serial killer for me to change my mind about how I feel, Jack.” 

“Stay. Please. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just don’t leave me, please.” He begged, his thumbs rubbing small circles under your eyes. You swallowed harshly before slightly nodding your head yes. Jack then brough the two of you back to his couch, and he stuck to his promise. He started going on and on about his life, starting with the fact that he played hockey for the Devils. Then he moved on to telling you pretty much every single memory he had about the sport, a wide grin plastered on his face. 

In exchange, you opened up to him about some of the insecurities you had because you were homeschooled, including having to attened big parties and being surrounded by large crowds. Jack had promised that was something he would never put your through, but you quickly learned that his promise meant nothing to him. 

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell

I told secrets I shouldn’t tell

I stumbled over all my words

I made it weird, I made it worse

Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide

It’s social suicide, wanna curl up and die

It’s social suicide

It had now been three months since Jack asked you out. You had met his brother Luke when the boy came to visit, talked to his parents through face time a while ago, but you had yet to met his friends. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it did. He didn’t want you attending his games either, claiming he didn’t want people to hate on you because you were his girlfriend. You couldn’t help but overthink the fact that maybe it was just because you were his girlfriend.

You had seen pictures of the other players wives and girlfriends, and you looked nothing like them. They all seemed so outgoing and the life of the party. Not to mention all of the models Jack followed, all of them being the exact opposite of you. You had questioned him about it one night, he just scoffed and said you were being petty and pathetic asking him a question like that. 

“J?” You called out. His arms were wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest. 

“Mm?”

“When am I gonna meet your friends?” You asked quietly, making the boy sigh harshly against the back of your neck. 

“Got to sleep, Y/N.” He mumbled. 

“Could you at least answer me?” 

“I don’t know, okay? Your weird fear of crowds or whatever makes it impossible for you to meet them all at the same time, and I’m not gonna go through the burden of setting up little dates with my teammates just so you can meet them. Can I sleep now, mother?” He answered harshly as his arms left your frame and he turned around, his back to yours. You felt tears prikle in your eyes at his words. 

“I can handle it.” Your voice was low, not trusting your voice not to crack if you talked any louder. Jack let yet another sigh at your words. 

“We’re getting together after the game tomorrow, come if you want.” 

“To your game?” You asked hopeful. You were growing tired of just watching him play through your TV screen, when he was close to your home. 

“No. After.” And just like that, all your hope was crushed. 

“What should I wear?” 

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He grumbled, getting out of bed making your head snap towards him as he approached the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Guest room. I need peace and you keep talking.” Was the last thing he said before leaving the room. When you woke up the next morning, he was gone, no text no notes, nothing. He didn’t come back for his pregame nap either, which scared you a little. But all your nerves went away when his face appeared on your Instagram feed, a bright smile on his face as the picture the Devils posted illuminated your screen. 

All of your texts to Jack had gone unanswered, as well as your calls. Thankfully, you knew where the team would be heading after the game, it was a local bar near the rink they went to almost every time after a game. You had gotten there a lot later than everyone, spending thirty minutes in your car deciding whether or not Jack would still want you there. You figured there was only one way to find out so in you went. 

The place was crowded, the music loud as the bartenders prepared multiple drinks. Realistically, there wasn’t that many people here, just the team and a couple other regulars, it was just a really small room. It took you a couple of minutes to spot Jack, who was sitting at a table with a couple of his friends and lots of girls. You tried to look as confident as possible as you made your way over to him. Some of his friends and their partners started at you, wondering what someone like you was doing here. 

“Jack?” You called out as you stood behind him. His arm was resting on the chair of a pretty blond girl next to him. You couldn’t quite describe the look in his eyes when his head turned to face you, but the words he was about to say completely crushed you. 

“Do I know you?” He questioned, and you could feel your heart shatter inside of you. You tried your best to keep a brave face on, but you were dying on the inside. 

“J, come one, this isn’t funny. I’ve been texting and calling all day, you were gone when I woke up this morning.” You mumbled, taking a step closer to him. The girl on his right could read you perfectly, and she realized that you two were a couple. When it clicked in her mind, she sent the boy a judging look before standing from her seat and walking back to her friends. 

Jack got up right after her, gripping your wrist and dragging you outside the bar. “What’re you doing here?” He asked harshly once the two of you stood outside alone. 

“No! What are you doing, Jack?”

“I’m enjoying a night with my buddys!” 

“Yeah, the friends you said I could meet. Tonight!”

“When did I say that?” His words were harsh and rude, making your heart shatter even more. You truly did not understand why he always acted this way towards you lately, but you were growing tired of it. 

“Last night! You said I could come if I wanted to, and I want to be here, so here I am. And here you are, with your arm around another girl!” You said, your tone matching his. You were tired of letting him walk over you all the time. 

“I said that so you would shut up and leave me alone. God, you’re always just complaining about everything and anything. It’s like nothing’s ever enough for you, you always need more–” 

“Oh, nothing’s enough for me? What about you, huh? Am I not enough for you?” 

“There you go, making it about you like always.” 

“Because this is about me, Jack! I am your girlfriend of three months, and I don’t know any of your friends! It’s like you’re ashamed to be with me. Do your friends even know about me?” You asked. There were tears in the back of your eyes threatening to spill, but you blinked them away. You had cried enough over him for the last couple of weeks. The boy in front of you stayed silent at your question, making you scoff. 

“Of course they don’t know, just like your brother’s weren’t suppose to know, or your parents. You don’t want anyone to know that your girlfriend is me.” You spoke with your voice low. This exact though had been in the back of your mind for a long time, but saying it out loud made it feel so much more real. 

“Things were better before you knew–” 

“They were better for you! You lied to me for weeks, and you’re still lying. All you do is lie, Jack. I can’t believe I waisted so much time and energy on you. You never wanted this relationship, did you? You just wanted someone to fuck whenever you needed, someone to be there for you. You didn’t care who it was, you neved cared about me. You’re pathetic, seriously.” You mumbled before pushing past the hockey player and walking to your car. 

You were done with Jack Hughes.

[anneapocalypse]

Demands of the Qun, or How the Inquisitor's Choice Answers the Iron Bull's Most Important Question

I was having a chat about the Iron Bull and his personal quest with some friends and one person said in response to something I said that I should make it a Post, so here it is! And a usual disclaimer: this is not about which in-game decision is "correct"--it's an RPG, there's no wrong way to play the game. I just want to talk about the meaning of this decision for Bull's character and for his future.

Dragon Age: Inquisition’s “Demands of the Qun” is, for me, one of those quests where the RPG format of “player character makes major decision for companion character” really works. I do not see this as an example of game mechanics taking away agency from an NPC. I think Bull has agency in this situation.

The Chargers are not Inquisition soldiers. They are mercenaries, and Bull is their commander. If the Inquisitor makes a call he doesn't like, he is free to say "Screw you" and take his people and leave, because they are not soldiers, they're independent contractors, so leaving isn't desertion, it's just quitting. If he were already certain he wanted to leave the Qun, he could simply call the retreat himself, take the Chargers and leave. Similarly if he were certain of his loyalties and willing to sacrifice the Chargers for that purpose, he could do that, regardless of what the Inquisitor says.

He lets the Inquisitor make this choice.

The Iron Bull has had one foot out the door of the Qun for a long time now. But he's gone back and gone back, submitted himself for re-education and done his best to keep serving the Qun, because he believes he needs the Qun. To him, becoming Tal-Vashoth means losing himself, his identity, his purpose, his very sanity, and as the Fade tells us in "Here Lies the Abyss," this is quite literally his greatest fear. Bull could never bring himself to leave the Qun with nowhere to go instead, nothing to give his life purpose and meaning—and no one to entrust himself to should he doubt his own sanity.

But in his work in the south, the Iron Bull has found community and identity and purpose outside the Qun. The very name he has given himself speaks to that, as does his close relationship to the Chargers.

Right from the beginning, there is tension in "Demands of the Qun." Bull remarks that he's gotten used to the Qunari being "over there" during his life in the south. I think Bull has a very potent anxiety when he meets Gatt again on the Storm Coast, and introduces him to the Inquisitor and their party. To me, it very much has the vibes of introducing two friend groups, where you're not only pretty sure they won't get along, but you're also very aware that they know very different sides of you—and neither of them are going to like seeing the other side. Bull's discomfort is visible both when Gatt speaks freely about Bull's work in the Ben-Hassrath, and when the Inquisitor's other companions make disparaging remarks about the Qun. His two worlds have collided, calling into conflict two sides of his sense of self that he has thus far managed to avoid confronting.

And this is likely part of the point. The Qun does not truly respect alliances with any outside the Qun. I wouldn't say for sure that the Qunari set up this whole situation just to test Bull—it's possible they knew exactly how many Venatori would show up, but they couldn't have known precisely how the Inquisition would respond. That, and their desire to root out the Venatori is no doubt sincere. But I do think they are watching Bull's actions very closely throughout this proposed alliance, gauging his loyalty. Gatt tells him outright that many already believe he has betrayed the Qun.

Bull's internal conflict quickly becomes an external one when the Venatori reinforcements show up, and Bull is faced with the decision of whether to withdraw the Chargers or defend the dreadnought at the cost of their lives.

The thing is, Bull is not neutral on this. He tells the Inquisitor what he wants. He wants to save the Chargers. If the Inquisitor says that the Chargers still have time to retreat, Bull agrees. When Gatt tells him they need to hold position, he says in a low, intense tone, "They're my men."

And then, when Gatt tells him in no uncertain terms that calling the retreat will make him Tal-Vashoth, the Iron Bull looks to the Inquisitor.

Again, he is not neutral. He knows what he wants. He is standing there basically begging the Inquisitor with his eyes to save his boys.

So why doesn't he just make the call himself?

Because just as this whole situation is in part a test of Bull's loyalty, this is also a test of the Inquisitor.

What Bull needs to leave the Qun is not simply for someone else to make the choice for him, but to believe that there is a future for him outside the Qun. That he will still be himself, that he will have purpose, and meaning, and that someone else is worth trusting. Bull cannot bring himself to leave the Qun if it means he will be left utterly alone with nothing but his own mind and his deepest fears. And if that's what leaving the Qun means… then in his mind, it would be better to stay.

The Inquisitor's choice will answer that question.

To sacrifice the Chargers leaves Bull with nothing outside of the Qun. He has just watched his closest friends die, and he cannot trust the Inquisitor. With Krem and Rocky and Skinner and Stitches and Dalish and Grim, the new sense of self that the Iron Bull has found in the south also dies.

Of course he turns back to the Qun. He has nothing else left.

But if it's the Inquisitor who makes the call to save the Chargers… Bull can leave. He has friends who care about him. He has purpose. He has someone whose command he can trust. He has hope. None of this makes the choice easy for him. It is quite clearly very painful and difficult, and I don't think there's any way it could be otherwise. But he has a way forward nonetheless. The choice makes leaving possible.

The Inquisitor doesn't force the Iron Bull to become Tal-Vashoth. Instead, Bull implicitly asks a question, and the Inquisitor by their choice gives him an answer.

[frigidwife]

when u said 'they want armand to be lestat' it floored me tbh, i never thought of it that way. bc armand stans are obsessed w/ framing him as lestat's morally superior narrative counterpart & i didn't twig that they were ironically upset bc the writers gave him a brand of bullshit distinct from lestat's, but there u go! obviously lestans are just as bad wrt peddling idiotic 'lesser of evils' rhetoric, but w/ armand some folks latched onto him specifically bc he was Not lestat & crafted a fantasy version of him from the ground up on the basis of how very Not-lestat he was (which made him being an abuser extra awkward bc they had to willfully unlearn critical thinking before our eyes & resort to textbook lioncourt abuse apologia to justify themselves w/out a hint of irony.) & sure…most of us cooked up self-indulgent theories ahead of s2 that got proven wrong, i did it too, but some got so drunk on headcanon they couldn't engage w/ the text anymore, so i figured that's why they perceived the ep8 reveal as more of a rug-pull than it actually was. ngl i still kinda think that. but ur right, they'd probably be cool abt armand lynching claudia if was a grand scheme to 'keep louis all to himself' bc the scale of his abuse matters less to them than the motive behind it. louis being flat-out disposable to him was a dealbreaker bc it couldn't be romanticized. & that's why they felt so inordinately cheated when lestat saved louis, complaining it was a cheap redemptive act on the writers' part, when it was actually so clear that he & armand were both acting in line w/ their own selfish needs as ever. as u said, neither one is more noble or moral than the other, they just have different priorities & their choices reflect that. anyways i'll stop ranting now, sorry for the lengthiness, this one really ran away w/ me!

No exactly exactly!!! agree w everything u said here Love how u put that last bit about neither of them being more noble or moral just having different selfish needs. and armand's are not particular to louis. and same i was coping hard until ep 4 like i literally . can find the texts of me being like "i think louis does like him though..." 12 hours later "nevermind you were right." bc i .. processed the show...and it is actually moree interesting like if BOTH lestat and armand had the same motives and priorities it would be a little repetitive. but armand is his own unique horror. which is also a very blasé horror!! and structuring it this way where the "love triangle" is not actually be a meaningful triangle at all is so Gothic Romance like Linton is not seriously on the same plane as heathcliff in cathy's mind. St john is not on par w rochester. and rochester is not the more benevolent lovely option but st john. IS BORING.

[backslashdelta]

Blaine-friendly Kurtbastian Fic Recs

Putting a list together for @fallevs, but I hope this will be useful for anyone who wants to dip their toes into Kurtbastian fanfiction but doesn't want to read anything anti-Blaine! Everything included in this list will either not include Blaine at all, or if he is in the fic, it will be neutral or friendly toward him.

I've tried to include a wide range of words counts as well, so that you can start with something short and sweet or dive into something big, whatever you feel like. If anyone else has some recommendations to add, please feel free to reblog this list and add more!

Europe Is Our Playground by @glitterdammerung - 53,430 words

Summary: Eight years and half the world away from home, a chance encounter in a Paris club leads Kurt and Sebastian - each running from the ghosts of their pasts - into the diversion of chasing each other across Europe.

(Let's give them) Something to talk about by MemeKonGlee - 20,529 words

Summary: “I need you to—” “I heard you the first time,” Kurt interrupts, putting his fork and knife down on his plate and pushing his half-finished pancakes aside. “What I meant was: what the hell?” He points towards the neglected pancakes, trying to stall in the face of Kurt’s reaction. “Are you sure you don’t wanna finish that first?” The look in Kurt's eyes tells him in no uncertain terms that no, he doesn't want to finish his pancakes, Jesus. And so Sebastian has no option but to take a deep breath in, exhale slowly through his mouth and just… get on with it, internally cringing at how unbelievably ridiculous it all sounds when he puts it in words, all out there for the world (and more importantly, Kurt fucking Hummel) to judge. It all boils down to: I fucked up and I'm too proud to deal with it the mature way.

Safe Mode by flipmeforward - 18,118 words

Summary: An AU in which Kurt and Sebastian never met in high school. Instead, they meet at &brave--an up-and-coming online fashion company where Kurt is the new assistant slash blogger (one day he will figure out a better title), and Sebastian is the less than pleasant tech support guy. Kurt does his best to avoid Sebastian and his rude attitude at all possible costs, but it turns out that technology is not his friend. It also turns out that Sebastian might maybe possibly be (okay, probably is) more than just an annoying coworker.

Come On And Mess Me Up by @pouralittlewater - 215,339 words

Summary: “It’s like...When Harry Met Sally,” Santana told him. “No. That was me and Blaine.” “How? You literally got together in months. You and Sebastian have been skirting the issue for years. This whole “will they, won’t they” thing is getting old.” Or, when Sebastian enrolls in McKinley High and joins Glee right before the duet competition. What Kurt thinks could be the start to a great friendship in gay camaraderie quickly explodes in his face as he realizes being around Sebastian makes him want to set the other boy on fire. However, over time, that feeling dissipates. Even without the title of friendship, the two become ingrained in each other's lives in a way neither ever expected to.

Thunderbolts & Lightning by @alphabees-writes - 1,854 words

Summary: Sebastian has a plan. It goes wrong, and then right, and then wrong again.

tension bars by @cryscendo - 824 words

Summary: Prompt by backslashdelta: kurt, sports!au (gymnastics), exes, “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.”

I Want The World To See You'll Be With Me by @backslashdelta (me!) - 2,405 words

Summary: Kurt and Sebastian attend a Christmas party, and Sebastian has a special surprise for Kurt afterward.

Dessert by @nalasan - 1,175 words

Summary: “Oh my God,” Sebastian says, staring at the plate in front of him. “We have to break up.” Kurt, who has just walked into their living room and is still in his winter coat, raises his eyebrow quizzically; his expression more bemused than worried, “And why is that?” “Just look at that,” Sebastian replies, gesturing at the table in front of him like he is seeing it for the first time: the white tablecloth, the candles in their silver candleholders, the white roses in their vase in the middle of the table, and the dinner Sebastian has been preparing since he came home three hours ago.

And Why Is That? by @20xbetterthanu - 41,321 words

Summary: "I love you, and I hate myself for that." "And why is that?" Love hurts.

Note from me: this fic is definitely not anti-Blaine, however it does heavily involve Blaine and he is Not having a good time, so I maybe wouldn't recommend it if you want to avoid him (and the other boys!) being sad.

A Change In The Weather by cacophonylights - 209,414 words

Summary: The summer before college Kurt is shocked when Sebastian comes to him with a timely offer he can’t refuse.  He’ll get something he needs to realize his dreams, but in return he has to play the role of Sebastian’s boyfriend for the summer.  Neither of them know just how much their worlds are about to change. For a GKM prompt.

Note from me: this fic COULD be considered anti-Blaine, but I don't personally consider it to be; it maybe doesn't paint him in the most positive light, but I think it's still neutral enough to be on this list, and it's essentially required reading at this point! Also, it is famously unfinished, but there are a couple fan sequels: ACITW AU by @lady-divine-writes A Drop In The Ocean by @daftydraw and jwmelmoth The ACITW link above is for livejournal, but you can also find the original fic on AO3 in two parts here and here.

[blueskittlesart]

can we talk about how rauru is literally like. just zelda’s dad. like in that one scene where zelda looks like she’s gravely contemplating turning into a dragon and then rauru goes “i believe the answer lies in more research and understanding your power!” and she looks at him with such shock and awe. zelda’s adventures in the past are literally like her life but with a better dad. the queen promises her to help her figure out her power but dies before they can figure out a way how to use that power to safely save everyone. zelda desperately wants to help everyone and is clearly feeling the pressure of it all and the king is the one to tell her “hey i understand how hard you’re trying and how much you want to save everyone and we’re thankful for what you’re doing”. rauru actually acknowledges zelda’s dedication and the importance of research and technology, he is kind to her and never blames her for any of the bad things happening. he also never pushes zelda to make sacrifices and is the one sacrificing himself in the end - in botw, all the champions and zelda have to choose to make sacrifices to save the kingdom, but in totk rauru doesn’t ask that of any of the sages, instead recognizing his own responsibility as king and basically dying to save his kingdom. he’s literally zelda’s better dad.

same anon as the one raving about rauru also the differences between how the two kings treat link. they’re both tutorial figures but the way they guide is SO different. pretty much the first thing rhoam does is lie and pretend to be a random old man, being quite annoying as he sends link to do a bunch of challenges for a paraglider. the framing is so fundamentally different, rauru freely offers the information he has to link upfront, he apologises for the body modification, acknowledging link’s potential distress. rhoam basically keeps link on the plateau arbitrarily, presenting giving items and teaching link about things as challenges for link to overcome. rauru on the other hand aids link as best he can, tells him what he needs to do from the beginning (tells him to open the door which is pretty much the last thing he’ll need to do in the tutorial, telling him about the ultimate goal from the beginning), proposes solutions when it doesn’t work out (directs him to the shrines as a way to help him gain the strength he needs, as opposed to making him complete challenges to get a paraglider that in the moment seems like literally arbitrary conditions). rhoam telling link how much responsibility and pressure he has on him all of a sudden and how much he needs to do vs rauru telling link that it was wonderful to meet him and zelda’s accounts of him were all true. like. the framing. the difference in character. the deterioration of knowledge within hyrule falls parallel to the deterioration of its king’s kindness and virtue.

the differences between rauru and roham are crazy to me because one of them was so fundamentally good and one was so fundamentally flawed and yet. neither of them were able to save their kingdom. no matter how good a king of hyrule is, no matter what he gets right or wrong, he is still doomed to die. rhoam tried to sacrifice his daughter to keep hyrule alive. rauru did everything in his power to make sure she DIDNT have to be sacrificed. and in the end the outcome was the same. but the KINGS were not the same, and that difference in framing you mentioned i think is fundamentally a difference in legacy. rhoams legacy is to forever be the king who sacrificed children to save himself and died anyway. rhoam died a loser through and through, a king atop a throne of nothing but failure. i think that’s partially why he appears as an old man at first, because he KNOWS what being the king of hyrule means and he’s EMBARRASSED that his legacy is what it is. but rauru. in complete contrast, rauru was so GOOD. rauru died with his sages and his DAUGHTER alive to see another day. rauru ENSURED they’d live no matter what. he wouldn’t LET them sacrifice themselves for him. rauru put everyone else before himself. he didn’t expect or even tolerate self-sacrifice and yet when the time came he sacrificed HIMSELF selflessly despite knowing that it wouldn’t even WORK. rauru’s legacy is something to be proud of. he’s open to link because he has nothing TO hide. no regrets or stupid decisions. and he is remembered so much more favorably because of it.

[da-rulah]

Rituale Septem - Day 3: Gluttony

Pairing: (Terzo x f!reader)

Summary: Secondo's acting out of character, but you can't focus on that when Papa has invited you to a dinner at his private quarters, with a few surprises up his sleeve...

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: A whole lot of teasing, indulging, alcohol consumption, food porn, feeding kink, food play, temperature play, cunnilingus, spit kink, p in v sex, cream pie

If you suffer with any disorders relating to food, please be wary this is a chapter literally dedicated to eating and feeding. There is no mention of EDs or troubles with eating, but if you struggle in this area, please be cautious. Your mental health is more important than a chapter of a fic. If you want to skip but want plot developments, DM me privately. I’m happy to share 🖤 

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m hoping to heal some of the trauma caused by the Olive Oil fic, with this one... 🤭 This is one of my favourite things I've ever written, and definitely the most erotic. Heavily inspired by @her-satanic-wiles's & @angellayercake's food fics. (Seriously, we need more of this kink. I had no idea I even had it until reading theirs...)

Prev: Day 2 - Sloth | Next: Day 4 - Wrath

October 27th 

Something felt different. 

There was a staleness in the air, the kind you feel after you’ve just been shouted at by your headmaster in front of a classroom of peers; that cold, shy embarrassment. For some reason, you couldn’t hold eye contact with Secondo today. When you’d arrived at the office that morning, Secondo was already there as usual. But upon your entry, he looked up from his desk over the top of his spectacles (ones you had teased him about needing due to his old age and spent the first month reminding him he should be wearing despite your jeers), and followed you to where you sat. Normally he wouldn’t even look up, grunting a greeting in your vague direction and allowing you to get on with your work. But his silent eyes tracked your every move until you were sat, somewhat settled for the day at your own desk.  

You looked up at him, and his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile at you, but thought better of it. Instead, he opted for small talk – which you knew he despised. He’d told you before that a conversation with no purpose was for drunks and the simple minded. And well, he was neither. 

“Did you enjoy your day off, Sorella?” he asked, and you couldn’t quite tell if it was sarcasm or if he genuinely wanted to know. You didn’t realise he’d known it was anything other than a sick day, unsure of what Terzo meant when his note told you he would ‘handle’ Secondo. 

“Um... y-yes, thank you Papa. I’m sorry it was such short notice...” you stuttered. He waved his hand in the air and shook his head to convey indifference. 

“No matter, I hope you got the rest you needed.” 

“I-I did,” you blushed, thinking back over what exactly had constituted as rest yesterday... 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the two of you, a feeling of being watched creeping up on you every so often. When you looked, you would find Secondo’s eyes focussed on your face. It was as if he were waiting for something, his expression flickering between multiple emotions at the speed of a flipbook. 

You saw what looked like a hint of anger, mixed with vague sadness and a delicate softness that was incredibly uncharacteristic for such a usually steely man. It made you feel as if you were intruding on his thoughts, like you were wrong for trying to figure out what was running through his mind today. And so, every time you found yourself attempting to figure it out and holding his gaze, you quickly averted your eyes back to what you were doing. 

“______...” You looked up at him, brow furrowed in bewilderment – rarely did he use your name if it wasn’t first accompanied by ‘Sorella’. It felt strangely too familiar. “I would... I would hope you would be able to talk to me. If something was... on your mind, I mean.”  

You sat quietly, processing. Was this a dream? Had Secondo been possessed by some kind of kind demon? You took entirely too long to respond, eyes squinting in suspicion.  

He sighed then, removing his specs and dumping them on the desk, leaning back in his chair.  

“I must be getting old,” he chuckled to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at his painted eyes as old men often did. “I just meant... Don’t be scared to ask if you need a break. You work hard, don’t think I don’t notice it.” 

“Don’t you like that everybody is scared of you?” you asked with an awkward laugh, trying desperately to lighten the mood because this felt too intimate, too much like an emotional connection that up until now you believed was entirely one-sided. You cared for Secondo, as your Papa, your boss – hell, even your friend. Six years of being at his beck and call, catering to his every whim to his exact specifications was always bound to create some kind of bond. But you never thought for a moment that he might reciprocate that.  

Secondo chuckled darkly, “I do, yes,” he leaned forward on his arms then, giving you his full attention, “but not you.” 

You fought the urge to ask him why he was saying this now, why all of a sudden, he had decided that you needed to know he cared. Instead, you continued to stare at him, eyes glazing over with a sheen of tears you were determined you’d never let slip. Not in front of him. He didn’t need to know what that alone meant to you – particularly in such a tumultuous time. 

“I-I’m not... scared of you, I mean. You don’t scare me, Papa,” your voice quivered with unspoken emotion. Had he known you were wavering and doubting your position, maybe crying in front of him at his sudden sincerity would have made sense but he didn’t, and so you held back. He didn’t need to know that his kind outburst had affected you so. 

“Perfetto... (Perfect...)” he nodded to himself, satisfied with your answer, and reaching for his spectacles again, placing them on the end of his nose and getting back to the notes on his desk. 

You blinked away your tears, willing your body to not betray you and allow them to disappear on their own now that Secondo wasn’t looking at you. Thankfully, they did, and you could see clearly again.  

“Sorella,” he was back to calling you by your title, business mode reactivated, “I’ll need your help later this evening. After dinner, to catch up on some missed work yesterday. If you don’t mind...” 

Inwardly, you groaned. The thought of having to join him after spending the evening at dinner with Terzo... Well, it felt embarrassing. Terzo would need to go easy on you with whatever he had planned in order to avoid detection. You could really do without Secondo catching on that you were sleeping with his brother, much less why. But reluctantly, you agreed with an “anything you need, Papa.” 

Secondo was under no illusions that he would be spending any time with you this evening at all – but that was the point.  

He and Terzo had a plan, and you were falling into the trap. 

Your heels tapped on the stone floors of the hallway where you knew Papa’s chambers resided. Your heartbeat quickened in your chest with each pace, coming ever closer to the large arched door at the end of the hall.  

As you walked, you could hear music. Effortlessly, it flowed through the halls, riding atop an aromatic scent you couldn’t quite place – other than it being vaguely familiar, as if coming home to your mother’s cooking after a long time away. 

The music grew louder as you drew nearer, grandiose and full of rich strings and stunning woodwind instruments. You couldn’t discern what exactly it was, unfamiliar with the style personally but enjoying how it seemed to relax your mind and still your fluttering heart.  

Knocking on the door, you made sure to be loud enough to be heard over the music, and took a step back, flattening out any wrinkles in your dress. The same dress, in fact, that you had worn to the clergy dinner only a week ago. Shoulders exposed, breasts pushed up and on display, glove-like sleeves that hooked around your middle finger in a point and wine red fabric hugging every beautiful ripple of your body. Except this time, you donned a black satin choker, tied at the back with a striking, yet small red gem dangling from the middle. Glass, of course; as if you could ever afford a genuine article. 

The door opened, and the music poured out into the hallway as if wrapping itself around you to pull you inside. It sounded like... opera. The beautiful bass notes of the male vocalist called to you, singing with so much longing. Mixed with the aromas of unmistakeably Italian food cooking away in the background, your head swam with a heady sense of passion. In dim candlelight, Papa Terzo stood leaning against the door frame, freshly shaven and moisturised with pristine paints in place as if they’d been redone before your arrival.  

He wore a long-sleeved dark green shirt, rolled up to the elbows and tucked into black slacks, showing off a broadness to his shoulders only those who had been intimate with him would notice. His dress shoes shined in the light of the hallway, significantly brighter than that behind him, and his hands were covered with his black leather gloves, a change from the white he wore day to day. But what you had noticed first – ridiculously so – was the white, frilly apron he had looped over his neck and tied around his waist, cinching him in deliciously, yet comically.  

He smirked smugly at you as he leaned, watching as your eyes dragged over his form slowly and allowing his own to do the same across your body. He didn’t have to behave at this dinner – he could ogle as much as he pleased. When your eyes met his, you smiled brightly. 

“I like your apron,” you started with, flicking at the frills over the skirt of it. 

“Sì, grazie. It was my father’s,” he gleamed, amused at his own joke. You couldn’t possibly imagine Papa Nihil ever wearing something quite so hideous, let alone being the kind of man to understand how to light a stove. “I hope you like Italiano, Principessa,” he winked, the innuendo not lost on you. 

“I find myself craving it more these days,” you flirted. He laughed at that – oh, how he loved when you humoured him. He could flirt back and forth like a ping pong match all day, every day.  

“Please, accomodati! (Make yourself comfortable!)” He stepped aside, however, not enough to give you a clear path – your bare shoulder brushed against his chest, and you triumphed in the way he seemed to tense at the contact while you remained aloof. 

His chambers were as regal as you had imagined, and you took a moment to soak it in.  

Far larger than your own small abode, it was filled with opulent furniture donned in fabric of his papal colour – a royal purple. His couch and chairs in his living room looked like they’d been stripped out of renaissance paintings and reupholstered with purple velvet. In front of the couch, an opulent wooden coffee table with a fresh fruit bowl placed in the middle of various berries and apples, all greens, purples and reds. The couch sat opposite a large fireplace carved into white marble with veins of black and gold, open wood fire burning welcomingly. Either side of the fireplace were two arched doors, that you assumed led to a bathroom and bedroom. To the other side of the living space, you noted a small dining table with purple upholstered dining chairs, matching purple runner draped over the table.  

He’d set candles up on brass candelabras in the centre, place settings made and ready with a bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket. The kitchen lined the far wall, hidden by a half wall and overhanging cupboards but open enough that you could see the pots and pans bubbling and steaming away on the large stove.  

As you became enamoured in the details of his apartment – the speaker playing the beautiful opera music you’d heard from outside, the fire crackling away on the far wall, the bookshelves filled with trinkets and books he’d collected over the years, the portraits that hung on the walls of his elder brothers – you were too distracted to realise he had shut the door, creeping up behind you. 

It wasn’t until you felt his gloved hands on your bare shoulders that you knew he was so close, the smell of his cologne – something akin to the spice of whiskey and the woodsy scent of fresh pine – filling your space and overtaking the smell of the cooking food. You could feel his lips ghosting over your skin, following his fingertips as he breathed you in.  

“I’ve seen this dress before, no?” he mumbled deeply against you, pressing his lips to where your neck began. You shivered a little at his touch, your eyes instinctively closing in content.  

“You seemed to like it when I last wore it,” you teased, relaxing into his hold as his hands ran down the glove-like sleeves, lacing his fingers with yours. The leather felt soft in your palms, the warmth of his hands radiating through them. 

“You noticed,” he mused, knowing full well he hadn’t been subtle in the slightest. You hummed in affirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, and in turn, yours. He swayed to the opera playing in the background, your body naturally moving with his as his presence engulfed you.  

The moment felt incredibly intimate, his body heat turning your cheeks a hue of pink he couldn’t see from behind you. His chest pressed against your back, and he leaned into you as his lips continued to press feather light kisses to your neck.  

“I like this dress very much, cara mia,” his kisses became a little more sensual, his hips swaying like you’d seen him do on stage many times before, “sei così bella che potrei mangiarti (you look good enough to eat).” 

“But it would be a shame to let whatever you’re cooking go to waste,” you smiled, turning your head to look at him. His beautifully mismatched eyes met yours, and he settled his chin on your shoulder, the swaying coming to a stop. “I didn’t realise you would be cooking.” 

He stood up straighter then, feigning offense. “Do you think me incapable, principessa?” he pouted. 

“Of course not, Papa. I’m sure you’re capable of many things,” you played along. He chuckled, lowering to whisper in your ear. 

“You have no idea, principessa...” 

To your disappointment, he let you go, taking a step back, his warmth and the smell of his cologne disappearing. He walked over to the dining table, pulling out a chair and gesturing for you to take a seat. You did as instructed, not missing the way his eyes focussed on your hips swaying with each step. You made sure to sway them a little more than usual, your steps slower than your regular pace.  

Terzo felt his heartrate quicken ever so slightly, the beauty of how your body moved in that sinful dress of yours overwhelming. He let you sit, pushing your chair in like a gentleman before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen.  

While he pottered around in there, blissfully mumbling to himself you focussed on the opera music flowing through the air. The mood he had set within these four walls was like something from a romance novel – seductive and enticing, a feeling of anticipation tingling within you. You weren’t sure what he was planning, but judging by the indulgent scents of the foods cooking, you had guessed he was going for a specific sin tonight. 

Gluttony. 

He was barely gone for two minutes before he sauntered back in, untying his apron and revealing that his shirt was unbuttoned one button more than usual – enough to allow a peak at the chest hair you became acquainted with just the other day, along with a glint of a gold chain, Grucifix pendant weighing it down. He draped it over the back of the chair opposite you and reached for the black napkin folded next to the ice bucket. 

“For the lady?” he asked with a smirk, holding the wine up as if offering, “’Ponkler’ by Franz Haas. 2016; a very good year.” His accent sounded thicker, snobbier as if put on to tease. You decided you’d play into his game, test him a little and see if he would trip up. 

“What is the bouquet like, may I ask?” you feigned a terrible classic British accent, tilting your nose up at the bottle. Terzo’s eyes glimmered with amusement. 

“Small ripe red fruits, white chocolate, cloves and alpine flora – made with pinot noir grapes and from the South Tyrol region of Italy. It’s quite smooth,” he explained. Damnit, he did know what he was talking about. “Would the lady like to taste?”  

“Please,” you smiled warmly. Terzo lifted the bottle by its neck, then used the napkin to hold the base as he uncorked it. He lifted your empty wine glass, pouring a small amount and swirling it around to oxygenate it. You expected him to hand you the glass, but instead, he gently placed the bottle back into the ice bucket and sat on the edge of the table to your side, looming over you.  

With his now free hand, he curled his finger under your chin. “Open,” he commanded, and you didn’t argue, lips parting for him as you held his gaze. He lifted the glass, sitting the rim against your bottom lip, and agonisingly slowly poured the wine onto your tongue.  

Your heart rate quickened, every nerve ending in your body suddenly aware of the proximity of him leering over you, touching you, commanding you. He was in control, more so than he had been when you’d first slept together. Everything was carefully thought out, planned, and so elegantly seductive. 

He was right – you could taste the ripeness of the fruits, the smooth and sweet white chocolate elements... It didn’t have that sharpness to it, one of the things you didn’t mind about a red wine but would avoid if you were able. You basked in the taste for a moment before swallowing when Terzo set the glass back on the table.  

“Well?” he asked, expectant, still sitting on the edge of the table with his thigh dangerously close to your own.  

“Buonissimo (very good,)” you grinned, ignoring your heartrate and keeping your breathing as steady as possible. He laughed, impressed by your Italian pronunciation. 

“Perfetto (perfect),” he stood, grabbing the wine bottle to pour you another glass to enjoy with a little more in this time, and one for himself. “I’ll get the appetiser, shall I?”  

Before you had time to answer, he sauntered off into the kitchen once again, leaving you to calm yourself of the pounding heartbeat in your ear drums. After another moment or two alone, soaking in the atmosphere of the beautiful opera music and warm glow of candlelight, he came back with a plate balanced on the tips of his fingers, held up high with a fresh black napkin draped over his arm.  

Ever the showman. 

“To start, roasted pepper and goat cheese bruschetta...” he announced, placing the plate down as close to the centre of the table as he could with the candelabra in the way, and taking a seat opposite you. On the plate were six baguette slices, brushed with expensive olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper then topped with fresh goat cheese and roasted peppers marinated in a honey vinaigrette – or so he had explained as he’d sat.  

You couldn’t fault his presentation. It looked like a professional set up, the way the six slices were laid out almost like a flower, a small pot of extra vinaigrette in the centre. He leaned in on his elbows as you picked up your first slice, anxiously awaiting your review. 

In the first bite, you all but melted into your seat. The mixes of sweet and tangy within the roasted peppers and the fresh creaminess of the cheese were so welcoming, almost homely in nature. You were immediately whisked off to a balcony in Italy, overlooking acres of farmland with a fresh summer breeze blowing through your hair. 

You polished off the first slice, enjoying each bite more so than the last.  

“Good?” he asked, and all you could do was moan in agreeance as you chewed. “Bene,” he grinned, “here, let me.”  

He stood and moved his chair closer to you, and on instinct you swivelled your hips to face him. His legs parted, scooting forward until his thighs ran parallel with yours. Then, he removed the glove from his right hand, and lifted another slice of bruschetta to your lips.  

Terzo feeding you felt like a level of intimacy you had never had with another before, like you were so willingly submitting to him and entrusting him with your most basic of human needs. He never, not once let his eyes slip from where your lips parted, gently taking a bite. He saw the way your tongue skimmed the surface for crumbs or remnants of dressing, and it made his chest tighten. All he could think of, was kissing those beautiful lips... 

With your last bite, the slightest amount of vinaigrette dripped from the slice to the corner of your mouth and Terzo didn’t hesitate, swiping his bare thumb over the drop and bringing it to his own lips, sucking as he held eye contact with you.  

It was the single most erotic thing you had seen him do so far that evening. And heat burned inside you.  

As you finished your last bite, you realised he hadn’t had a slice of his own yet – a travesty. You must insist he try one, right now. And so just as he had, you lifted another slice, and leaned in further to him, raising it to meet his black painted lips.  

“Open up, Papa,” you instructed coyly, smirking as a natural response to the smug smile on his own face. Wordlessly, he parted his lips for you, arousal heating up his own body more so with your boldness. He would never let someone do this, never willingly be fed but for you, he would make an exception.  

“Grazie, principessa, (thank you, princess),” he thanked you as he chewed, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips so feather light you couldn’t help but chase him a little. But he just chuckled at you, sitting back to finish his mouthful.  

Before long, the plate was empty of bruschetta.  

“If that appetiser was this good, I look forward to whatever tricks you have left up your sleeve, Papa,” you teased, dabbing a napkin on the corner of your mouth.  

“Oh, there are many...” he smirked, “but first, a palette cleansing. More wine, Principessa?” He turned back to the table, lifting your glass again but instead of handing it to you, or even pressing the glass to your own lips like he had already, he took a mouthful himself.  

You were about to swat his shoulder for stealing from your own glass but he didn’t give you the option, instead leaning forward, fingers curling into your hair at the back of your head, and pressing his lips to yours. Naturally, you melted against him, lips parting to kiss him as if he wasn’t holding a mouthful of wine but when he parted his own lips, you were soon reminded that he most certainly was.  

Slowly, he shared some with you, careful not to spill any. It had warmed in his mouth, but you didn’t mind – the eroticism of the act itself was enough to heat your cheeks and earn a soft whimper from you. Once again, you could taste the berries, the grapes, the white chocolate... and something inherently him. 

He sat back, swallowing the small amount he still had and letting you follow suit. Your mind swam with lust, desperate for more kisses, more wine, more flavour – anything he was willing to give you. Your thighs squeezed together as your core was set alight with arousal; and yes, he did notice. But ever the gentleman, he said nothing.  

“I think our entrée is almost ready, cara mia,” he winked, standing from the table again and grabbing the apron from the back of his chair. Quickly, he tied it around his waist, forgoing throwing the bib over his neck and wondered back off into the kitchen.  

You stood, taking the time to pour both yourself and Terzo another glass of wine, coming slowly to the end of the bottle. You took your glass in hand, and wandered over to the stereo that Terzo had on top of a bookshelf. You needed to focus on something, anything other than the arousal he’d stirred up in you already, so you ventured over to see what he was playing.  

However, upon inspection the ancient boombox was playing a cassette tape, with a white sticker on the front, handwritten title in Terzo’s signature cursive.  

‘Principessa.’ 

The opera songs you were listening to weren’t from one singular performance but were in fact a mixtape of chosen songs from multiple operas. And he’d made it for your dinner – for you.  

Before you could think too much on the matter, you felt his strong arms wrapping their way around your waist again, his chin resting on your shoulder. Only now did you notice; he had removed his other glove. 

“I wasn’t sure you would like opera, Principessa,” he began, “but I think it adds a little... romanticismo to the evening, sì?” You stayed quiet, instead opting to sip from your glass while you thought of a reply. 

“I suppose I never gave it much of a chance, maybe because I can’t understand them,” you thought aloud. That much was certainly true – in the years you’d spent with men who spoke Italian, you had only picked up choice phrases – nothing so complex as this. 

“I see, well... This is a song from ‘La Traviata’, which loosely translates as ‘The Fallen Woman’,” he explained, his warm breath tickling your ear, smelling vaguely of the wine you shared... “This song is called ‘Un dì felice, eterea’ or ‘One day, Happy, Ethereal’. Alfredo falls in love with a courtesan, Violetta. In this song, he’s confessing his love to her. 

“In essence, he is saying ‘on one very happy day, you fell into my life and ever since, I’ve lived with unknown love. That love is the pulse of the universe, torture and delight, torture and delight...” 

His arms around you feel hot, burning into you as he surrounds you. It’s beautiful, the male vocals are stunning and grand. You can hear Alfredo’s longing, his confession heartfelt and passionate. It’s almost present in the way Terzo’s arms tighten around you as Alfredo sings, except you tell yourself you’re being ridiculous. It’s merely the atmosphere, the scene he’s created. It’s nothing but a fabrication, a ruse to fulfil tonight’s sin.  

And then, Violetta begins to sing.  

It’s a contrast, a surprising staccato soprano after the tenor. Her voice doesn’t sound like it longs for Alfredo; it sounds like she is... shooing him away?  

“Is she... rejecting him?” you ask, turning your head to look at Papa. His smile widens. 

“A good ear... Sì, she is telling him to forget about her, friendship is all she can offer him,” his eyes search your face for a moment, before they settle back on your own with a different demeanour, one you can’t discern. “She is saying ‘honestly, you must find someone else. Someone who knows how to love you.’” 

A breath of silence passes between you as you listen to Violetta’s staccato vocals. Eventually, the pair begin to repeat a line from Alfredo’s verse together.  

“This is where she admits feelings for Alfredo,” he whispers, eyes fixed on yours. There’s a tension there, a battle behind his eyes that looks to be saying ‘kiss her... just kiss her...’ 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he retreats. 

“Come, Principessa. Your entrée is getting cold,” he gently taps your behind as he wanders back to the table, moving his chair further from you and you can’t help but feel disappointed. He removed his apron once again, resting it on the back of his chair. You sit together, and realise he had already plated your entrées and placed them at your seat. “Lamb and rosemary ravioli. Made fresh, of course,” he smiles tenderly at the food on his plate, as if it reminded him of a fond memory. 

Your first bite, and you can’t believe the flavour he’s packed into such a tiny little parcel of pasta. It explodes, tender lamb mixed with the earthy notes of rosemary, hints of the onion and olive oil it was cooked within. You couldn’t help the moan you let slip, warmed from the inside out and transported back to that balcony in the Italian countryside.  

“Papa, where did you learn to cook like this?” you asked, very much aware of the effort that fresh pasta and homemade ravioli would take to create. He had made it all from scratch, and you couldn’t understand where he’d found the time, let alone learned the craft. 

He smiled down at his plate once more, memories dancing through his mind to the music in the background.  

“Mia nonna,” he said, before flickering his eyes up to show a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. His answer threw you for a loop. You thought for sure he had perhaps attended a class during his time in Italy, or it was just a hobby of his before he became Papa. But now it made sense; the familial tie to cooking explained the heart that he so clearly put into every flavour.  

“We were close. She and I spent a lot of time together after mia madre (my mother) passed,” a sadness flashed across his face, quickly replaced with a mask of happiness, “I was far younger than i miei fratelli (my brothers), and she would look after me when they were busy with Ministry things. She always told me I needed to learn to cook, to ‘impressionare una bella signorina’ (‘impress a beautiful girl’) she would say,” he chuckled to himself. 

He didn’t know why he was telling you this; you didn’t need to know anything about his childhood, and yet, perhaps the setting he had created for himself was all too realistic. Maybe he was fooling himself into thinking this was more than what it really was – a scene in an opera of his own writing. Still, he felt comfortable enough to share this. He knew you would think no less of him for telling you something of his childhood. 

“She taught you well, Papa,” you smiled, allowing him a moment of tenderness. You figured he may need that, his life so full of duty and obligation. 

You both finished your entrées in silence, the music creating a comfortable backdrop. You shared the odd smile, little moans of satisfaction with every few mouthfuls, until eventually you had cleared the plate. 

When Terzo brought out dessert, your mouth watered... He carried a tray, filled with little bowls and a plate in the centre, towered with biscuits. In the bowls were different flavours of what you assumed were gelatos, scooped into almost perfect spheres. He set the tray down in front of you, and brought his chair back to directly beside you, slotting you between his thighs like he had earlier that evening.  

“For dessert, an assortment of gelato – unfortunately not homemade. I make terrible, tasteless gelato...” he laughed, “but paired with homemade ricciarelli biscuits. Those, I made.”  

Casting your eyes over the assortment, there were at least six different flavours to taste. Your sweet tooth was tingling, and the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering away with Papa’s thighs encasing your own again.  

“The biscuits are almond biscuits, I find they’re much more delectable than eating gelato with a spoon,” he began, already scooping a generous amount of a yellow coloured gelato up with one of the biscuits. “Mango first, my favourite.”  

He began as if to feed it to you like he had the bruschetta, except he moved it away, sticking the end between his teeth and leaning back. His eyebrow quirked up in expectation, and he beckoned you to him with two fingers. Ah, so the fun was beginning again... 

With a cheeky smile on your face, you leaned forwards, spreading your palms over the meat of his thighs. Slowly, you parted your lips, engulfing the gelato covered end of the biscuit and biting into it with a hum. The chill of the gelato soothed the heat in your cheeks, burst of flavour melting into the biscuit as you chewed. They complimented each other beautifully – fresh fruity flavour with light and airy biscuit.  

Terzo watched intently, half of the biscuit still stuck between his teeth, leaning into the back of his chair. He marvelled the way your lips parted, revelled in the hum you made at the taste hitting your tongue. Satisfied with the show you’d put on, he ate the rest of the biscuit.  

He repeated this with several different flavours, allowing you to take each from him while he watched over, and over. He adored your lips, could watch them move all day. But he wanted to touch them, to taste them, to feel them on his. With every bite you took from his own mouth, he wished he’d forget the food and kiss you right there and then. 

But this was about the gluttony of it all. It was about the greed, the excess. He would keep feeding you until he was satisfied. But still, just a taste... 

When you expected him to pick up another biscuit, he didn’t. Instead, he picked up his wine glass, draining the rest of the glass quickly, as if he needed the extra confidence. Then, he scooped two fingers into the bowl of strawberry gelato, leaned forward and pressed them to your lips. Shocked by the sudden chill you didn’t move for a second, but that was fine – he didn’t want you to. Instead, he ran his fingers along your lips as if he were applying lipstick and coated them in gelato. 

Terzo sucked the remaining gelato from his fingertips and moved towards you, pressing his own painted lips to yours. There was nothing sweet about it, save for the gelato. It was messy, indulgent, slow. His tongue laved at your lips, removing any trace of strawberry he could find. And you – you got too caught up in the kiss itself, gripping onto the open collar of his shirt and whimpering into his touch.  

Your body lit up, like your veins pumped gasoline in place of blood and Terzo had lit a match. Every tiny little touch, every look, every seductive little show he put on that evening had led up to an inhumane level of arousal that you didn’t realise would snap as quickly as it had. You thought you had this under control. You thought you had him where you wanted him.  

You did not. 

But it would be a lie if Terzo tried to say he also had control. That was not something he knew well around you. In every aspect of his life, he had control. Too much of it, even. Sometimes he despised it and yet when he was with you, he could lose it. He didn’t need to have control – he could let himself go and succumb to you. And so, he did, messily kissing you and groaning against your lips when your hands settled back on his thighs and gripped so tightly.  

He pushed on your waist to sit you back in your chair, standing up and towering above you. That look on his face was back; easily mistaken for rage but it was determination, need. It made your core clench, thighs pressing into each other.  

“I enjoy my food, cara mia. I like to indulge,” he began, darkly hovering barely an inch from your face, “I like to play with my food too, in the right setting, with the right person. And here you are; ready and willing, eh?” 

You nodded, breathless. You were so willing. 

He shoved two fingers into a chocolate gelato, depositing a large amount onto his tongue before he dived in again for another deep kiss. The ice-cold texture mixed with the warmth of his tongue against yours was maddening. He didn’t break away again until it had melted completely, and you both were able to swallow whatever you could take from each other.  

The act was lewd; filthy, even. But oh, how it turned you on... 

With the gelato disappearing between you, he decided your lips were not enough for him anymore and began to trail open mouthed kisses down your neck and collarbone, covering the expanse of your neck and adding new, fresh patches of purple to accompany the now yellowing ones he’d left just two days ago. He liked marking you, making sure you remembered it was him who had left them. You let your head fall back, enjoying how his lips still felt cold on your skin that burned under the heat of your passion rising and rising...  

In your bliss you lost yourself, only coming to when you felt the sting of ice-cold strawberry gelato being dragged across your collarbone, quickly warmed by Terzo’s tongue chasing the trail. The sensations heightened your arousal to new levels, awakening something in you that you’d never once explored before. But at the taste of strawberry on his tongue as he lapped it off your chest, Terzo groaned and fell to his knees between your feet as if it were him receiving this array of pleasure. 

With the hand that didn’t have fingers covered in gelato, Terzo reached around to your back where you arched off the chair and dragged the zipper of your dress down, pulling the material to expose your bare breasts to him. He reached behind him, this time dipping into a pistachio flavoured gelato and trailing a line with it between your breasts, where he immediately dove in, lapping at the skin as if he was a man starved.  

He was losing composure at an alarming pace, already filling out his briefs, blood rushing to his length. An indulgent swine at the best of times, this was where he lost himself; in the finest things he could possibly indulge in. Good food, good wine, and you.  

In his reverie he reached behind him, grabbing a handful of gelato and using that very same hand to cup one of your bare breasts, smearing chocolate gelato over you. Your nipple peaked at the temperature, freezing cold as you gasped, watching him with wild and blown out eyes as he mouthed at the area, sucking on your nipple and the surrounding breast until the smear disappeared, his hand still coated in dripping gelato of multiple flavours.  

Watching him like this was charging every possible nerve in your body, your core wet and ready for him whenever he might finally get there. For now, the pleasure he was able to give you through stimulation of your nipple alone was enough to have you gasping.  

“Mangia, amore mio... indugia, per favore... (Eat, my love... indulge, please...)” he begged from his knees, reaching up to paint your lips with the mess from his fingers before slipping two past them to rest on your tongue. You sucked the sweet mixture from them, wanting nothing more than a burst of flavour and pleasure together as he worked on your breasts below.  

Your mind felt hazy, a buzz from the few glasses of wine you’d shared now having an effect and mixing with the lust that clouded your mind of any rational thinking.  

“Papa...” you whined around his fingers, cleaning them off one by one. You didn’t know what you were whining for, other than more. More of everything. More gelato, more wine, more of him.  

"A moment, cara...” he said, pushing his fingers to your lips in a ‘silence’ gesture, and raising back to his feet. He left you alone in the chair, half exposed and half mad with want as he disappeared back into the kitchen for one final time, re-emerging with a new, freshly uncorked bottle of red Ponkler wine. He knelt before you again, drinking straight from the bottle by the neck before handing it to you to do the same. You did so gladly, enjoying the buzz it gave you and the taste of it on your tongue. 

With his hands now free and wiped clean, he ran his fingertips up your bare calves, under the hem of your dress and past your knees until he was able to push the dress up, revealing your thighs to him. He dove his head down, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses to the skin as he rose further and further up, parting your legs to slot between them. You slumped against the chair, taking another gulp of wine and watching with hooded eyes and a knowing smirk as Terzo finally realised... 

You weren’t wearing any panties... 

“Shit...” he breathed, unaware he’d reacted aloud. 

“Can’t wear panties with a dress this tight,” you smiled, biting your lip. His gaze on yours changed, as if clouding over with a dark smoke. He looked positively ravenous, and his actions proved your theory. He gripped onto the top of your dress this time, pulling it down and over your hips to fling it from your legs before parting them again and slotting himself right in between.  

He reached behind him for one of the small bowls of gelato – a salted caramel flavour – holding it in one hand while he used his other to scoop another generous amount onto his fingers and draw lines of sweetness along the inside of your thighs. The cold made you shiver, but once again, his tongue warmed you, cleaning up his own mess and drawing ever nearer to your centre where you were desperately dripping for him.  

When his cold, caramel coated fingertips finally grazed over your clit, you keened under his touch. Your back arched at the shock and pleasure, until you were met with a warm tongue to replace the cold, and Terzo was lapping up the melted gelato.  

His tongue felt heavenly on you, finally a reprieve from the torture of waiting, of being teased on and off all damn night until finally you had both just snapped. His fingers were long forgotten, smearing the rest of the caramel gelato over your thigh as he pushed them open. Neither of you cared about the mess you were making, simply too far gone. Instead, he focussed on the sweetness pooling between your legs, and how you were the most divine thing he had tasted all night.  

His tongue laved over your clit over and over again, drawing circles, flattening against you, writing what you assumed to be Italian curse words letter by letter... Every so often, he would pour some melted caramel gelato from the little bowl still in his hand directly onto your clit, lapping it up like a parched animal by a riverside.  

“P-Papa...” you mewled, your hand fisting into his beautiful raven hair as you clutched the wine bottle in the other. The dance between hot and cold, the feeling of sweetness oozing over your core had you experiencing this like no other time you had – and Papa’s skill was certainly unmatched.  

You would take swigs from the wine bottle every so often, still desperate to taste something for yourself, to continue to spoil yourself in the name of gluttony.  

“Principessa, you taste sweeter than the finest gelato italiano,” he growled into your mound, “this is the nectar I would make my wine with... I’d be drunk on you every fucking day...” 

The moan that slipped from your lips at his words was pornographic, and he had put an idea in your head that you couldn’t push away the more he lapped at your centre. Slowly, you raised the bottle of wine over your chest, catching his attention as he continued to work you, and you began to pour it over yourself.  

The red liquid trickled over your collarbone, over and between your breasts, and began to run slowly down to where Terzo’s mouth was engulfing you. When the liquid mixed with your own juices on his tongue, his mind broke. He slurped and drank from you, the mess unavoidably dripping to the floor when he couldn’t catch it all. It stained his shirt, dripped onto his pants and between his knees and he loved every second of it. Watching as you doused yourself in not just his expensive, decadent wine but the very symbol of the Dark One’s own blood...  

It was intoxicating in every sense of the word.  

As Terzo dove his tongue through your folds, drinking every drop he could from you like the sweetest of fruits, two of his fingers slipped easily inside of you, curling the way he knew you liked having already committed your sensitivities to memory during your first encounter. When he hit your g-spot you jolted, forgetting about the wine and sitting up suddenly, half a bottle still sloshing inside the bottle. His free hand kept you planted by your hip, pushing you into the hard wood and upholstery beneath you. You didn’t have time to think about the red wine staining the fabric right now – the thought never even crossed your mind.  

As if he’d eaten nothing all evening, Terzo was starving for more of you. He was relentless, and the pressure was building inside you more and more, winding so tight you found yourself holding your breath. With his fingers inside you and his mouth engulfing you, you were seconds away from slipping from the precipice.  

“P-Papa... I’m gonna...” you panted, breath stuck in your lungs as if he’d wound his hand around your throat again and squeezed.  

“Do it,” he instructed, his voice dark and gravelly against your clit. And you snapped.  

You writhed in place, held down still by a strong hand on your hip. He didn’t let up, continuing with the same speed, pressure, and calculated curl of his lips, tongue and fingers. Your whole body set alight, arms dropping numb at your sides and barely grasping onto the neck of the wine bottle, which clanged against the legs of your chair. You cried out a slew of profanities and whimpered ‘Papas’ as you rose and fell.  

If Terzo hadn’t already been driven quite insane by your little trick with the wine, he might just have taken the leap when you came... Your body gave him flavour in excess, covering his chin with more of your sweet juices. He drained you completely, and slowly allowed you a soft comedown from your unimaginable high.  

He sat back on his heals, wiping his mouth and chin on a napkin from the table. His paints had long since melted away, a grey hue now wiped onto the black napkin as he caught his breath. He looked up at you sat slumped back in your chair and realised looking at you at all had been a mistake. His poor weeping cock, aching in his briefs, couldn’t take the sight of you, and he found himself on the brink of begging you to let him have you right there in the mess you’d made of the floor. 

“We’re not done, Principessa,” he growled, standing up and dragging you by the hand to your feet with him. Stood before him now, naked save for your heels and the glove-like sleeves of your dress, you felt like a feather, still floating from your climax. Terzo’s hands settled on your waist to steady you, letting you wrap your arms around his neck, grasping the wine bottle tightly. You could feel how much he needed you, pressed against your lower stomach... 

“Take me to bed, Papa...” you slurred, pulling him towards you for a slow, deep kiss that knocked the air out of the room around you both. His hands slid from your waist, cascading to your hips until eventually he hooked his hands behind your thighs and lifted you, crossing your legs around his waist and holding you tightly. He was far stronger than you had anticipated, his biceps tightening in the dark green of his shirt. 

“As you wish, amore mio,” he grinned, carrying you through the living room and past the coffee table, where you reached down and picked up the fruit bowl you’d seen earlier. In the spirit of gluttony, you would put it to good use, already picking off singular grapes to pop between his teeth before you leaned in to kiss him, sharing the grape juice as he bit into each one. 

Soon enough he was throwing you down onto a beautiful purple bedspread, satin upon satin with layers of black to compliment. Terzo took the fruit bowl and wine from your grasp, placing them on his nightstand before turning his gaze back to you.  

Wordlessly, he leaned in to kiss you again, chasing you when you crawled back to lie against his pillows without breaking away from your lips. He crawled over you, strategically placing himself between your legs and pressing his clothed thigh to your centre again. You hummed in vague pleasure, grateful for any and all friction as arousal began to build once again.  

His Grucifix pendant dangled over you as he leered, a peak under his shirt visible where the shirt billowed from his chest. You wanted him out of it already, you wanted to see him just as bare to you as you were to him.  

You rolled the sleeve-like gloves you were still wearing down your arms one by one, kicking your heels off to the floor at the foot of the bed, and reached for the buttons of his shirt. He let you, taking his time to pepper kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, your breasts – all still vaguely tasting like wine. Before long, he was shrugged out of an open shirt, and letting you graze your palms over the definition beneath, tickled by the dark chest hair of a born-Italian man. 

He let you explore, undoing his belt with one hand as he propped himself up on the other, pulling it from his belt loops. You wanted to help then, reaching down to palm his length for a moment and enjoying the groan at some kind of relief that he let slide. But waiting wasn’t on the cards tonight – not anymore. And so, you unbuttoned his slacks, undoing his zipper, and pushed the hem of his trousers down along with the waistband of his briefs, until you could no longer reach, and he kicked them off for you.  

Lips attacked yours again and hands roamed the expanse of your body as yours did his. You lost yourself in each other, finding it all too easy to submit to him. His kisses lingered on your lips as he trailed back to your neck, kissing along the satin of the choker you were still wearing.  

“A woman like you deserves real jewels, Principessa,” he moaned against your skin, “whatever you desire should be yours.” Your entire body purred under him, your organs fluttering in delight. You were never one for a gifts or expensive things but surrounded by the finery that was Terzo’s apartment you found yourself absorbed in his world, excited at the empty promise of such luxury.  

He reached for the bottle of wine beside the bed, taking a quick gulp and holding it in his mouth. His fingers came and tapped on your lips, and on cue you opened wide for him where you lay beneath him. He smirked and spat the wine directly onto your waiting tongue, allowing you time to swallow before kissing you, tongues colliding messily and falling into another deeply passionate moment. 

But frankly, you were done waiting. You were done with being the centre of attention. Just because this was your ritual didn’t mean that whoever you chose to perform it with had to come second to you. Terzo was putting in all of the work, worshipping you and as much as you adored it, craved it even when he wasn’t there... you wanted to worship him back. After all, he was your Papa... Your leader, head of the Satanic Chruch. He had cooked for you, opened his home to you, had you climaxing harder and faster than any partner. Time to give him a break. 

Terzo’s length was pressing against you and being so close, yet so damn far was frustrating you to no end. Grinding against him was earning you harsher kisses, deeper moans but you needed him; now.  

When you pushed him off you and put the wine bottle down, he looked at you with confusion, worry flashing through his face. Had he gone too far? Were you having second thoughts about this? Did you even want to continue this ritual?  

Before he could panic, you pushed his shoulders, rolling him over to his back and swinging your leg over him to straddle his thighs. He didn’t fight you, in fact he looked ridiculously smug below you when he realised what you had done – his mind slower to catch up with the alcohol flowing through his veins taking effect.  

“I haven’t thanked you for dinner yet, Papa...” you smirked, sitting up straight as he watched in awe. “Besides... I can’t wait any longer. I need you,” you whined. 

“Take what you need, Principessa,” he curled his finger under your chin, guiding your lips back to his. Oh, how easy it was to be sucked back in, to forget just for a moment about the ache between your legs, how desperate you were to sink down on him when his lips felt like this. 

But when his cock jumped against your stomach, you were reminded instantly.  

Without parting your lips you shuffled forwards, hovering above him and grinding your hips along his length. Your arousal coated him, the warmth and the slide too good to not moan into your mouth, his bare hands gripping at the flesh of your ass to guide you. You reached between you and took his length in your hand, guiding him to your centre before slowly, with foreheads and noses pressed against each other, you finally sank down on him.  

With your hips sat flush against him, chest to chest, you had never felt so close to him. Your arms wrapped instinctively around his shoulders, both of you wrapped in each other’s arms as you adjusted. It didn’t take long after the way his fingers had stretched you earlier, and so you began to rock your hips where you sat.  

You swear, the feeling of Terzo filling you was unmatched. Able to control how you rode him, where you felt him was beautiful. And to top it all off, Terzo was so far gone himself, all he could do was grip onto your hips and desperately mouth at your neck, over the litany of purple and yellow bruises he had left. 

It was all a little much for him, his mind swirling with thoughts of you and how intimate everything felt to be wrapped up in you like this. He’d had countless partners, of course, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so close to any of them. It scared him, terrified that he was allowing himself to get too close, that you were tearing through the walls he had put up years ago to block his emotions from the outside world. To your dismay, he leaned back, slapping his back against the pillows below him and covering his half-painted face with his hands as he groaned into them. But no, you weren’t going to settle for that, and so you slowed your pace and demanded his attention back on you when you reached for a deep red apple in the fruit bowl by the bed.  

He peeked out from behind his fingertips to see you still sat upright as you ground your hips into his and staring down at him, taking a large bite from the crisp apple as you rolled your hips. The innocence of simply eating fruit whilst performing such a lewd act twisted into the ultimate sin. Had he not known any better, he could have sworn you were in fact Eve and he Adam, plucked from the Garden of Eden and being tempted into sin.  

“Più bella di Eva... (More beautiful than Eve...)” he whispered to himself, but you caught it – and your heart leapt. Your reaction was visceral, out of your control. All you could do was roll your hips faster, whining at the taste of the sweet apple. With your free hand you prop yourself up on his chest, leaning forward to press the apple to his lips and let him taste. He obliged willingly, no tempting necessary. He gave in to sin so readily. 

As he chewed, his eyes dropped to where his cock was disappearing in and out of you with each roll of your hips. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, never been more hypnotised in all his life.  

“Cazzo...” he moaned, “You feel so good, Principessa... Made for your Papa, eh?” His hands roamed over your body, caressing every inch of you.  

“Eat, Papa... Enjoy it,” you groaned, pushing the apple to his lips again for another bite. He did so without further encouragement, this time running his tongue over the thumb that held the apple, licking the juice where it gathered. He groaned at the taste, swallowing the bite and taking another from you. He’d let you feed him all day, every fucking day. He’d let you take care of him any time.  

“Will you cum for me, Papa?” you whined, desperately barrelling towards an end yourself. 

“Why, Principessa? Do you need it?” he teased breathlessly, knowing that was exactly what you needed. 

“Please. Please, cum for me Papa...” you begged, thighs burning with exhaustion.  

“Together, hm? We dive off the edge in each other’s arms, amore mio,” he promised, reaching a hand between the two of you and circling his fingers on your clit. Immediately you clenched around him, hips stuttering but you were so grateful for the added stimulation.  

The apple fell from your grasp, hitting the floor somewhere. You planted both hands on his chest, using every bit of energy you had left in you to roll your hips as he held you by your waist, slamming up to meet your grinding in rhythm. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room, the opera music a distant atmospheric hum in the background now.  

“Oh, dolce lucifero all'inferno... (sweet Lucifer in Hell...)” he growled, gripping your wrist on his chest and holding on for dear life, fingers circling your clit over and over and over like a man possessed. If you came, he could let go. He couldn’t let go until he felt you come apart around him.  

Like a crashing tsunami, your orgasm washed over you. How desperate you were to keep up a rhythm, but Terzo had to take over for you, slamming up into you with vigour to keep you stimulated as you came around him. Your walls clenched on his length, body stiffening and muscles tensing as you cried out for him. Your nails dug into his pecs, tugged at his chest hair. You made the prettiest noises for him... 

Terzo couldn’t hold back anymore, finally being squeezed so tightly that he’d have cum whether he wanted to or not.  

“Fucking SHIT,” he shouted, grip on your wrist becoming almost painful as he bucked up into you, doubling you over until you collapsed onto his chest breathless. He allowed himself a final few thrusts, slower and each less powerful than the last, until he let his length slip from you, feeling the mess he’d made seeping onto his pubic bone.  

You lay on his chest, fluttering and clenching around nothing. You weren’t sure how he did it, but every orgasm with Terzo knocked the wind out of you. All of your limbs felt numb, tingling with pins and needles while you regulated your breathing.  

Terzo wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and pressing kisses to your forehead mixed with muttered praises and hushes when you’d whimper involuntarily. He kept reminding you he was there, comforting you, letting you float back to earth. ‘But who was there for him?’ you thought to yourself. 

Without giving the idea too much thought, you raised a hand to his still painted cheek – albeit, incredibly smudged – and marvelled at the man before you. From the nose down, his paint had vanished, succumbing to the napkin. But his eyes, still painted were dishevelled just as his hair, wild and messy and falling over his forehead, sticking to it with sweat. His eyes watched yours, curious as to what it was you were seeing that had you so transfixed. He could only assume you were so exhausted and still drunk enough that your brain wasn’t registering what you were looking at. 

But no, you saw him. And how beautiful he was...  

You reached for him, pressing your lips to his gently in a silent thank you. A thank you for being there for you, for helping you with this ritual. For making you feel like you weren’t crazy, or a spoiled brat for never hearing His voice. For making such an effort to ensure the completion of such an important ritual. For taking care of you, every step of the way so far.  

Neither of you said a word for the rest of the evening, opting to lay in each other’s arms for a while, just comfortable... Until you realised just how sticky you felt, remnants of wine, gelato, sweat and bodily fluids now drying and making you feel frankly disgusting.  

But Papa wouldn’t let you get up, seeing how exhausted you had become when your eyes could hardly stay open. Instead, he brought a washcloth and bowl of warm soapy water to you, wiping you down where you lay and drying you with a fresh, soft towel. He tucked you into his sheets with a kiss to your forehead, and disposed of the bowl and washcloth.  

He’d been gone for ten minutes, cleaning himself up a little before blowing out candles and switching off the music, when he came back to find you completely sparked out. He chuckled quietly – he knew you couldn’t last, not after filling up on wine and decadent food, then climaxing twice like this. But a pang of guilt shot through him. He should have been here, with you. He didn’t want you to fall asleep alone tonight.  

He took one final mouthful of wine and climbed into bed next to you. To Hell with the inward battle of ‘should he? shouldn’t he?’. He wanted to be curled up next to you, and he had the strangest feeling you would too.  

He slung an arm over your waist, shuffling until his chest pressed against your back. When he felt your arm cover his and heard a soft sigh from your lips, he could finally relax for the evening, stripped bare of his paints, clothes, and the wall he had built around himself.  

He was beginning to let you in... 

Secondo tapped his foot on the stone floor, watching the clock tick on above his door. Hours, he had sat here. Paperwork littered his desk, his spectacles forgone and sitting atop the papers. 

He had no right to be irritated – he knew this would happen. He planned for this to happen. But a small part of him had thought maybe you would show, that you would surprise him. He thought maybe you were just that loyal to him. 

When the clock read 11:24pm, he finally gave up. You hadn’t showed up to help with the work you had promised you would. Anger simmered in his gut, too easily wound up. This was a set up, and yet... he still found himself slamming his office door shut, and stomping back to his chambers in a foul mood.  

And you should never go to bed angry... 

Prev: Day 2 - Sloth | Next: Day 4 - Wrath A huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading, and @adinferix for fine tuning the Italian translations! 🖤

Tag list:

@call-me-little-sunshine84 @thew0man @zombiesnips-blog @ghuleh-recs @popiaswife @anamelessfool @enchantedbunny @haelithra @aslutforgreyhair @togetherasone @lilylovesdew @copias-sewer-rat @copiaspet622 @deetz-ghuleh @loudwombatmugkid @nimbusghoul @portaltothevoid @adinferix @angellayercake @sodoswitchimage @siouxbauhaus @lydz1977-blog @bitchywitchygardener @sacrificialsake @the-did-i-ask @ghostfangirlsweden @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @copiasprincipessa @gothicwonderlust @ladymer @ghulehunknown @onlyhereforghost @solluna00 @nijiru

[gimme-noodles-please]

When you’re on your period

characters x afab! reader

—— characters; Aiyin/Ayn, Luchen/Alkaid, Luoxia/Lars, Silan/Clarence, Yexuan/Cael

content: established relationship, fluffyyy, a little suggestive

———————————-

Ayn

he found out by seeing you lying on your couch, hugging your knees to your chest when he came to pick you up for your date

needless to say, he was very concerned and worried

he thought that you had a tummy ache or ate something bad and offered to get medicine for you from the pharmacy. but when you told him it was because of menstrual cramps, you can see him staring at you for a second as the wheels in his head starts to turn before nodding silently.

he does not have experience at all. after all he did not grow up with a mother or any female figure in his childhood (im sorry if it is wrong but it is based off what i can remember) he does not wish to ask his bodyguards about it and neither does he want to ask his father at all.

eventually he searches the web for information and the next day you see him at your door with pads of different sizes (because tbh he does not know which one you needed and ended up buying each type)

he would give in to you easily and avoids teasing you too much, after all he does not want to hurt your feelings on accident knowing that females tend to be more sensitive on their periods. so if you want to aak him to do something that he usually would reject, asking about it while you’re on your period increases your success rate :)

Alkaid

he definitely knows very well as to how to take care of you. i feel like once he starts dating you, he would research more about this. after all he is aware that there are such things as periods but he just wants to know how to take care of you better and attend to your every need

literally he will be on your beck and call. you want to buy pads but your cramps hurts too much to get up? no problem, he will buy it for you. you want ice cream? he will buy an entire tub and bake some brownies to go along with it. you want some cuddles? sure, anything for you

he is always gentle even when you’re off your period but you can tell he tries to be around you more often to offer you support and comfort whenever you need it

he offered to stay over to look after you. you had to convince him each time that you would be fine and it was not that bad since you were used to it

overall he is best boyfriend material <3

Lars

it is like the switch in him flips. you think he is like a golden retriever in some way before? well, he is even more like one now

he still teases you a little but whenever you give him a glare, he immediately shuts up

dude is rich and would offer to buy anything you need no matter how expensive it is. and he might splurge a little too much…

once you realised you ran out of pads while you were on your period and asked him to help you buy some. and guess what he did? instead of buying two or three like most people, he bought twenty of them. plus they were in different sizes and brands, some brands were more on the higher end that you tend to avoid buying in order to stay within your budget.

he spoils you too. he is pretty knowledgeable about how to take care of you when you are on your period. and maybe a little too much.

there was another time when your cramps were so bad he got quite worried. but instead of buying painkillers for you, he suggested to make love, claiming that it is a way to elevate the pain. (it is true though, according to google) he said that while wiggling his eyebrows, making you pout and smack him on the shoulder with your face red, telling him not to be silly, though the offer sounded rather tempting-

even if you were to accept it, he is good with it because he does not find it icky at all

Clarence

someone as studious as he is definitely would know what a woman experiences when she is on her period. he reads up even more about it when he starts dating you so he can take care of you better!

he would try to make time for you out of his busy schedule, after all being the student council president and having to study is not an easy task. he feels bad whenever you feel like you are neglected

he secretly has an app on his phone to track your period. mostly so he knows when to prepare to help you as much as you need him to. like when you are nearing your period, he will remind you to avoid or eat more of a certain food because he read something about how it can aggravate the cramps or help to quickly replenish your blood count

another boyfriend material who will be at your beck and call. though he can’t be by your side 60% of the time, he is always one call away. no matter when it is, he will always pick up his phone for you

sometimes you feel like he is lowkey feels like a mom looking after you lol. you teased him about it and he would sigh with a smile on his face, not taking any of it to heart of course, in fact he accepts it as a compliment, thinking it is your way of saying that he is doing a good job as your boyfriend taking care of you

Cael

by now he had more or less remembered what symptoms you face before your period and how you would be during it.

he was used to all of your mood swings and remained as gentle as always, getting any food you were craving and helping you with getting pads, which of course, he buys the brand you always used of the exact same measurement

he is rather busy, after all he is still an art teacher in the school aside from being your caretaker and well uhm, travelling across the universes to different worlds for whatever purpose he has. but he knows you are able to take care of yourself and does not wish to pamper you too much so you can be more independent.

however if anything were to arise, you can always call him, whenever and wherever.

he still swings by from time to time to check up on you to make sure you are eating well and there is no anomaly with your period or anything.

he is not super worried, after all each time you have your period, he had already prepared everything for you