#please tell me if you like this non-sense

[kookinglikeachef]

I don't want to overwhelm you but omg I'm addicted bc your writing + GOT7 😭 I feel like there are so few active writers in the fandom but hopefully that'll change with the comeback!!

What about how they'd react to the reader suggesting they sub for the first time and if they'll allow it or not (or already are) 😅

Only if you're comfy! And when you have time and after other requests bc I don't want to eat up your inbox!! tysm <3

kookinglikeachef: 😭 this was hard to do because there's so many different ways this could go for different reasons but ultimately I went by what I feel is their basic energy.

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Mark:

Would probably take some convincing but he might if you’re persistent enough. It wouldn’t be his favorite but he’ll definitely enjoy it, if nothing else. You’re his weakness after all.

Jay B:

You better be willing to beg for it, even if it’s just this once, if you’re trying to convince him to sub for the first time. This man right here is too much of a boss in his professional life and a boss in his personal life to allow it. Though, if you really want it, it would mostly be for your sake than his.

Jackson:

According to his sign, he’s dominant during sex and can’t help being in charge. But because this is JACKSON WANG I honestly and deeply feel that he’d encourage you to do whatever you wanted to him. I think if Jackson subbed, he’ll love to be restrained. Your teasing would leave him a whimpering mess, squirming, and pulling on his restraints when you’re just inches away from where he was dying for you to touch him. Sometimes he’d get a little excited with you sucking his dick and bucks his hips for more, so you have to hold him down. Five out of ten times is gonna want to sub.

Jinyoung:

Sure. He’ll sub for a bit. Lets you think you’re in charge for a while and then effortlessly takes the control from you. But if anything, I think Jinyoung would love you being in charge just as much when he is. As a submissive he’d enjoy playing into edging and orgasm denial.

Youngjae:

He’ll allow it. 100%. Youngjae is a sub in every sense of the word. He’s absolutely weak and vulnerable when you have your way with him. And makes the prettiest noises ever, cute babbles of ‘please touch me, I need you so bad.’ Just wants to hear you call him a good boy. But I’mma also tell you this...he’ll dom the hell out of you once in a blue moon.

Bambam:

He’ll definitely play into it and be a whole bratty ass sub if you asked. Degradation and everything. He’ll love feeling slut brain taking over until he’s non-verbal.

Yugyeom:

He won’t say no to it because all he wants to do is please you. Might get comfortable in exploring some more sub sides of himself. He feels most comfortable when you’re in charge.

[qualitygiverdreamer09]

TWST Housewardens (Kalim, Vil, Idia and Malleus) As Your Boyfriend (Headcanons). Part 2 || End.

Header Credit: Disney

Pairing: Multi Scenario x gender neutral!Reader

Tags : Twisted wonderland x reader, Physical and non Physical Effection, just a lot of cute moment between couple.

Warning : None

A/N : For today there will be no Quotes, but I have different plans, including creating several headcanons (hc), which I have postponed for almost several months due to several obstacles that have prevented me from completing them.

The following is my interpretation of what I believe Kalim, Vil, Idia and Malleus would say and act, and I kindly apologize if it does not align perfectly with the character or if you have a different understanding. Please bear in mind that it is intended purely for entertainment purposes and should not be taken to heart.

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Kalim Al-Asim

Type of Boyfriend - The Sunbeam Who Loves You With His Whole Heart

Dating Kalim is like basking in endless sunlight—he is warmth, joy, and laughter, a lover who showers you with affection at every opportunity. He doesn’t hold back—his love is open, genuine, and utterly overwhelming.

But with all that love comes deep-seated fears—fears of being not enough, of losing you to someone better.

Early Relationship – The “You’re the Best Thing Ever!” Phase

The moment Kalim realizes he loves you, he tells you. Immediately. Enthusiastically.

“OH! I love you! Haha, I was wondering why my heart felt all funny whenever I saw you—wow, this makes so much sense!”

There’s no hesitation, no overthinking—Kalim loves you, and he wants you to know it.

From that moment on, expect to be constantly adored.

He brings you surprise gifts daily (sometimes unnecessary, but the thought counts). He hugs you out of nowhere. He talks about you nonstop.

“My partner is the coolest! You should’ve seen them today—ahhh, I’m so lucky!”

It’s overwhelming at first—Kalim loves big, and if you’re not used to that, it can be a lot. But you quickly realize that his love is genuine.

He loves you because you’re you. Not because of status, looks, or achievements—just you.

As He Falls in Love – The Affectionate & Insecure Side

Despite his overwhelming joy, there’s a fragile side to Kalim’s love.

He’s never had to fight for anything in life, but love? That’s different.

Sometimes, when he sees someone else looking at you, laughing with you, he gets quiet—too quiet. And then, later that night, he’ll hug you a little too tightly and whisper: “…You don’t think I’m too much, do you?”

Because in the back of his mind, there’s always the fear that someone better will come along. Someone less reckless, less naïve—someone who deserves you more than he does.

And it takes everything in you to convince him that he is enough.

How He Shows Love

Physical Affection: Kalim loves touching you—hugs, kisses, holding your hand, carrying you for no reason at all.

Words of Affirmation: He tells you he loves you every day—sometimes multiple times a day.

Spontaneous Gestures: One time, he threw an entire fireworks show just to see you smile.

Dates with Kalim

Extravagant Adventures: Private airship rides, exotic locations, anything fun and spontaneous.

Festivals & Celebrations: He loves parties, and he wants you to be by his side.

Cozy, Quiet Nights (Eventually): Once he realizes that not every date has to be a grand event, he treasures the simple moments—watching the sunset with you, laughing over spilled tea.

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Kalim trusts you, but he doesn’t trust other people.

If someone flirts with you, he’ll laugh it off at first—he’s not the type to get angry. But later, he’ll frown, shifting uncomfortably.

“…You do love me, right?”

He’s not possessive in a controlling way—he just needs constant reassurance.

And when you pull him into a hug and say, “Of course I do, you dummy,” he grins so brightly that it feels like the sun itself.

Final Thoughts on Kalim as a Boyfriend

If you want a boyfriend who will love you openly, enthusiastically, and with everything he has, Kalim is the perfect choice. His love is a never-ending celebration, but beneath all that joy is a heart that just wants to be cherished in return.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Vil Schoenheit

Type of Boyfriend - The Perfectionist Who Loves You Flawlessly

Dating Vil is like being in the spotlight with a star—he is beauty, grace, and discipline incarnate, a man who demands perfection but loves you as you are.

He is meticulous in everything, including his love. He will never half-love you—he will either love you entirely or not at all.

But with that love comes expectations. And his biggest fear? That you will one day realize you deserve better.

Early Relationship – The “You Need to Keep Up” Phase

Vil doesn’t fall in love. He chooses it—carefully, deliberately.

So when you confess, he studies you—measuring, analyzing, searching for any sign of hesitation.

“…Do you even understand what you’re asking for?”

Loving Vil means being with someone exceptional. He does not tolerate laziness, carelessness, or complacency. If you want to be with him, you need to match him.

But if you do—if you stand beside him as an equal—his affection is breathtaking.

As He Falls in Love – The Devoted but Insecure Side

Vil is not soft, but his love is undeniable.

He adjusts your collar, smooths out your hair, fixes your posture—his fingers linger, gentle but firm.

He whispers praise in moments when you least expect it. “You looked radiant today.”

He challenges you to be better—not because he isn’t satisfied, but because he sees so much potential in you.

But beneath all of this is a deep-rooted insecurity: What if one day, you realize I’m not enough?

Because perfection is fleeting. Beauty fades. And Vil cannot bear the thought of losing you.

So when you kiss his temple and murmur, “You are more than enough,” he closes his eyes, just for a moment, and lets himself believe it.

How He Shows Love

Words of Affirmation: Vil praises you not just for how you look, but for your intelligence, your strength, your ambition.

Gift Giving: Every gift is thoughtful, personal, perfectly chosen.

Physical Affection (Surprisingly Tender): His touch is always intentional—brushing hair behind your ear, adjusting your jewelry, tracing patterns on your wrist.

Dates with Vil

Luxury Spa Days: Self-care is essential, and he loves spoiling you.

Cultural Events & Galas: If he’s attending, you will be by his side.

Peaceful Evenings with Just the Two of You: Though he thrives in the spotlight, his favorite moments are private, when he can simply be with you.

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Vil doesn’t get jealous. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

But if someone flirts with you, his expression turns cold—perfectly polite but utterly dismissive.

Later, he’ll cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“…You belong to me, don’t you?”

Because Vil knows his worth. And he needs to hear that you do, too.

Final Thoughts on Vil as a Boyfriend

If you want a lover who will push you to be your best, who is as devoted as he is exacting, and who, beneath it all, just wants to be enough for you, then Vil is the perfect match.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Idia Shroud

Type of Boyfriend - The Awkward but Devoted Gamer Boyfriend

Dating Idia is like romancing the final boss of social anxiety—he’s shy, awkward, and convinced he doesn’t deserve you. But once he opens up, he becomes shockingly devoted, willing to grind endless hours (in games and in real life) just to make you happy.

Early Relationship – The “Are You Sure?” Phase

At the start, Idia cannot process the idea that someone like you would want to date him.

When you first confess, he physically malfunctions—his face turns so red it could rival his flaming hair, and his voice glitches into rapid, panicked muttering.

“H-Huh?! L-Like, in a dating sim kind of way, or like, ironic ‘haha let’s prank the shut-in’ kind of way? Because if it’s the second one, oof, plot twist, my HP just hit zero—”

Even after you reassure him, he’s still convinced this must be some kind of dream or parallel universe scenario. He even makes a conspiracy board mapping out how this could have happened.

“Did I somehow trigger a secret romance route? There was no way my stats were high enough for this!”

As He Opens Up – The Clingy and Flirty Upgrade

Once Idia finally accepts that yes, you actually like him, his behavior changes dramatically.

Online, he becomes shockingly bold, spamming your DMs with flirtatious comments he’d never say out loud.

In person, he still stammers, but his touch lingers—his fingers brushing against yours, his hoodie sleeve tugging at your wrist when he doesn’t want you to leave.

One day, while gaming together, you casually say: "I love you."

CRITICAL HIT. Idia drops his controller like it physically burned him, staring at you in wide-eyed horror. His whole body glows neon pink.

“Wh-What?! You can’t just drop that bomb mid-match! That’s like pulling a final boss move out of nowhere! How am I supposed to counter that?!”

And yet, later that night, you receive a voice message from him—quiet, awkward, but sincere.

“…I love you too. Just, um, don’t use it as a combo attack without warning, okay?”

How He Shows Love

Quality Time: His ideal date is staying in and gaming together, eating snacks, and being comfortably silent.

Gift Giving: He crafts custom gaming avatars of you and writes sweet (but cringey) love notes in code hidden in games.

Physical Affection: He takes forever to initiate, but once comfortable, he leans into you while gaming, hugs you from behind while peeking at your screen, and absolutely melts if you play with his hair.

Dates with Idia

Private Anime & Gaming Marathons: He sets up the ultimate gaming nest, filled with blankets, RGB lights, and custom-made playlists based on your favorite OSTs.

Building a Digital World Together: He codes a mini-game where your characters can go on virtual dates, even if he’s too nervous to suggest real-life outings.

Late-Night Stargazing (From His Room): “Why go outside when I can just project the sky onto the ceiling? Same vibes, less social interaction.”

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Idia isn’t the confrontational type, but if someone flirts with you? Oh, he notices.

He won’t say anything in person, but later, he’ll be grumpy in chat:

“Ugh. That guy totally used a ‘flirty NPC’ dialogue line on you. So cringe. You’re not gonna, like, trade routes or anything, right? …Wait, you’re joking. You’re definitely joking. Right??”

His jealousy manifests as passive-aggressive nerd energy, but in reality, he’s just scared of losing you.

What It’s Like to Sleep Over

Idia does not sleep at normal hours. He wraps himself around you like a blanket, mumbling game theories until he passes out mid-sentence.

If you wake up first and move, he immediately latches onto you, half-asleep, muttering: “…No. Don’t go. Respawn… stay…”

Final Thoughts on Idia as a Boyfriend

If you love nerdy, flustered, ride-or-die devotion, Idia is the ultimate prize. He starts as a nervous wreck, but once he’s comfortable, he becomes a devoted, affectionate, and low-key possessive partner.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Malleus Draconia

Type of Boyfriend - The Chivalrous but Lonely Romantic Boyfriend.

Malleus is a fairytale romance brought to life—he treats you with reverence and awe, as though you’re the most precious thing in his world. But beneath his regal elegance is a deep loneliness, making him cling to every moment he has with you.

Early Relationship – The Curious and Courtly Lover

Malleus is fascinated by love, but since he’s rarely experienced it, he approaches it like a grand mystery to uncover.

When he first realizes his feelings for you, he doesn’t just confess—he formally asks permission to court you, bowing slightly with a hand over his heart.

“Would you grant me the honor of being yours?”

Dating Malleus means experiencing old-world chivalry—he opens doors, offers his arm, and kisses your hand as if you are royalty.

But he also doesn’t quite understand modern romance.

“Tell me, what is this ‘Netflix and chill’ humans speak of? A ritual of some sort?”

As He Falls in Love – The Possessive Protector

Once Malleus realizes how deeply he loves you, he becomes fiercely protective. He is not above displaying dominance to remind others that you belong to him.

If another person flirts with you, his voice drops dangerously low: “…I trust you will mind your place.”

That night, he will whisper against your skin, his breath warm: “You are mine, my love. No one shall take you from me.”

His affection is deeply poetic, almost worshipful: “Your presence is like the first star of twilight—endlessly radiant, eternally captivating.”

How He Shows Love

Gift Giving: Malleus bestows enchanted gifts, like flowers that glow when you’re near or jewelry infused with protective magic.

Quality Time: He cherishes every second with you, often watching you in quiet admiration.

Physical Affection: Forehead kisses, protective embraces, and tracing your features as if memorizing them.

Dates with Malleus

Midnight Walks in the Forest: The fireflies glow brighter around him, as if drawn to his magic.

Dancing in the Moonlight: With no music, only the sound of his deep laughter as he spins you in his arms.

Tea in His Castle: He loves watching you sip from delicate china, his gaze unreadable yet full of devotion.

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Malleus isn’t aggressive, but his mere presence is enough to make others back off. If someone flirts with you, they’ll feel a chill in the air—his magic reacts instinctively to his emotions.

Later, he’ll murmur against your temple: “Tell me, my love… Do you enjoy making me jealous?”

Final Thoughts on Malleus as a Boyfriend

Malleus loves with his entire being. If you want intense, poetic romance, deep devotion, and a protective yet gentle lover, Malleus is your perfect match.

Written By @qualitygiverdreamer09

[elenthyaolyenths]

Everybody else: It's Monday, time to get back to serious work!

My schedule: You currently have 10 Works In Progress.

Me:

Me as a self-taugh fanartist in the Good Omens Fandom: having 10 works in progress, but starting another one. 🙃

Ko-Fi - INPRNT - RedBubble- Masterpost - Instagram- Facebook- Linktree

↓♥My cats judging me +Tag List (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥↓

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ;

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

@paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[edwinisms]

see I can’t accept charles’ comic background and socioeconomic status as canon for the show because if I did that would mean the whole group would be a bunch of rich kids and that’s a horrifying concept

[ratspaguetti]

Splatoon headcanon- Fuzzy inkfish

Okay so! In splatoon 3, return of the mammalians, I was sorely disappointed when said mammalians where just...hairy and brainwashed, literally that's it, which had let me down so bad, given the fact that slight alteration of character model and brainwashing had already happened before (sanitization) and genuinely, the occasions haven't changed much behavior wise, so this is how I have headcanoned what should have actually happened in splatoon 3!

Behavior

Given the fact that the fuzzy ink fish are now mammalian, depending on the inkfish, they might hiss, scratch, bite, and attack like a wild animal, really depending on the type of animal they are based off of, I imagine most would be bearlike because it is Mr Grizz that made this happen, but imagine, a fuzzy inkling with Spirulas growing out of their head like sheep horns, completely ramming a another inkling a good couple of feet away! Making interesting gameplay! And given Japan seems to love cat girls (can't blame them) give a octoling some cat ears and very agile and bam! Happy fans- (I will probably talk more about behaviors in a different post)

They also do not use weapons! Given the fact they are mammals, they use their animal like features instead to fully attack [this is what will be explored in a different post]

Body

I need bullet points for these because there is a lot I wanna go through

Mammals aren't just fluffy creatures, they also have these cool nest things called bones and warm blood

So fuzzy ink fish will first experience "fever" like symptoms as their ink slowly heats up, and over a long period of time (depending on how much furry goop they have been exposed to and how long they have been a fuzzy inkfish) and go into a hibernation like state, when they come back to, their body will have had the changes, first, they are not hot blooded and have furr in their tentacles

Later on, their body will slowly shift to a more animal like appearance, like hands slowly enlongating and growing large claws, more hunched like posture to more easily run in four legs, growing new teeth that are more mammalian in nature (could be herbivore, could be carnivore) some will grow more furry along their extremities as well, some will even grow more animal like ears and eyes

At this stage, most of these bodily changes are still reversible with enough medical equipment, as the ink fish are still majorly cartilage and ink, so they can be reformed (kinda how they can still change into a squid or octopus)

Yet, when their bones start to grow, these changes are mostly irreversible, bones will form after a good couple of months, this will make fuzzy inkfish tanks compared to normal ink fish, the skeletal structure has downsides however, like the inability to turn into a squid/octopus anymore, given the fact that you can't really shapeshift into something as small as a squid, where would all those bones go??

But their inability to shapeshift smaller does not mean they cannot shapeshift at all, by or consuming the fuzzy ooze or ink, their body will grow in size, and they take a much more animal like shape, like how a human where to turn into a werewolf, in this form, they do high amounts of damage by the swings of their claws

Their bones and thicker skin would also do that one think most inklings and octolings can't do, get in water, cuz let's be honest, unless the oceans are actual acid, having a body with thicker skin, bones and muscle tissue, probably makes these Fuzzy Inklings/octolings able to actually swim!

Also, when their skeletal structure is growing, they will likely also grow tails (you can't have tails otherwise, yah need the spindle bones to make it, no-?)

I'll continue all this later- it's just my ideas I've been thinking of-

[puppyluver256]

Okay, I don't think this should have to be said for like...anyone, but since it's happened I'm gonna make a note of it.

Do not submit my OCs to character rating blogs, especially fmk/"bed, wed, behead" style blogs without running the idea by me first, and if I say "no" then accept that "no" and don't just do it anyway.

In fact, don't do this sort of thing with anyone's OCs without their express permission. Yes, even if they're your close friend. Yes, even if they're a very well-known artist.

People's OCs are often very personal to them, and if someone outright says they're not comfortable with someone who didn't make them taking them and throwing them to the wilds like this, it's a complete lack of respect for the person's boundaries. Just don't.

[mhexart]

There seems to be a fairly common trope among AI or artificial human characters in fiction that I've noticed and both sort of relate to and sort of sympathize with(?) Hyperfixation be damned but I've latched on to two characters and I want to ramble about them. Melissa Bergman from Metroid Other M and Singularity from Bayonetta 3. (And maybe the reason I've taken notice to them over other AI characters is because they're poorly written or portrayed so it's easier to project. (idk idk)).

For Melissa, there's this whole revenge plot --is what I'd call it -- going on throughout Other M. Melissa wants to crash the Bottle Ship into the Fed home world, etc. But where does that come from? Frustration maybe? Anger? Misdirected anger? Yeah I'd say so. (And for the sake of this interpretation I'd say that while she's beginning to process all these "emotions" she's also wrestling with the sadistic urges that come from being based on Mother Brain). To Melissa, all she's ever known is her role. Control the Metroids. Keep them docile, then control the specimen aboard the ship. Keep them docile too. That is your purpose, that is the one and only role you play. To the federation, despite her human exterior, she is just a tool, used to complete a task. So then comes Ms. Madeline Bergman, She gives the machine her name. Humanizes her, treats Melissa like a daughter. And to Melissa, that's true. I am the daughter of Madeline Bergman. This is my mother. We work together. But as experiments and nefarious space shit continues on the Bottle Ship, Melissa wants to do more. She is more present than ever, and there are even scenes where she tries to assert her beliefs and methods, (and presumably fails (I've tried to listen to what she says in the scene where she storms out of the meeting room but I can't tell). My guess is that this has been going on for a while, and this all builds up to the attempt to reset her(?) Madeline says it's altering her AI program but eh. I'd also assume around this time, MB being able to communicate with all the creatures on the bottle ship, she'd realize what they were being subject to. Like her, they were probably treated like tools. Simple assets. So the peak of this tension is when the Federation tries to seize her and she sees Madeline standing idly by. What's going through her mind when this happens? That's my mother! Why isn't she helping me? And maybe, that leads to the conclusion that Madeline never saw her as a daughter. Maybe to MB, her mother viewed her the same way as everyone else. So to her, she doesn't even belong. Not to the Federation, as they've rejected her current self, and not to her human family, Madeline, as she's allowing this happen. But she has her other family. Everything aboard the ship she's spent day after day interfacing with. They're just like her. They, the rejected, the tools, are her family. They'll help her. And maybe one of the thoughts that's running through her head in that moment is What makes them (The Federation) any more human than me? What makes my existence, less valid than the perpetrators of biological horror? So she sets out to prove something. I am valid. I am real. I am here. Maybe she wants to make a statement. Make herself known. I'm more than a tool. I'm more capable than you give me credit for. And I'll prove that whatever it takes...

(Though, I like to think that even through this all, she still sees Madeline as a parental figure. After all in the last scene, MB pushes her out of the way when the Federation fires ice beams into that room)...

[elainemorisi]

https://www.bloomberg.com/graphics/2024-college-return-on-investment/

I'm sorry, I'm a complete asshole about this with absolutely no skin in the game (for at least ten more years), but it also drives me nuts. So please just. look at the graph

[yandere-romanticaa]

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[diejager]

Stepdad!König taking a call from your mother while she’s at work - and while he’s brutalizing your sweet pussy in your room, his hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speaks to your mother over the phone like normal 😊

Phone cw: p in v, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, rough sex, creampie, exhibitionism?, tell me if I missed any.

Your heart jumped out of you chest when his phone rang, you panicked, but König looked unbothered, reaching over to pick it up as he kept up his pace, driving his hips forward roughly and ruthlessly. He chuckled lowly, showing you the caller: your mother. Your breath hitched, teary eyes widening and mouth agape with drool rolling down the corner of your lips, you struggled against him, begging for him to ignore the call or to stop if he wanted to answer it.

“You can keep quiet, can’t you, Schatz?”

“No no- please-!”

His hand came down on your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers, pleading for him to adhere to common sense. Despite your cries, he answered the phone, clicking on speaker - to antagonize you - and your mother’s voice rang out in the room. He greeted her with a normal hi, his tone calm even through the strenuous session, rocking into you, his thick girth and throbbing cock milking your cunt of the load he left this morning after she left.

“I’m sorry for calling so suddenly, hun,” she sounded tired, spending the day working until 7pm.

“It’s okay,” König hummed, placing the phone down beside your head, beside your covered mouth and tear-streaked cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be home later than usually,” she sighed, oblivious to your muffled whines. “I’m going to swing by that Italian place, do you want anything?”

Unlike your choked mewls and breathless keens, your stepdad was still, chest puffing up and pressing down on you, shifting your legs over his shoulders as he drove himself deeper. He was rough, thrusts hard and words degrading, cooing in your ear harsh, degrading names. Telling you what a slut you were for you stepdad, how you were a bitch for whoring around him and Horangi in skimpy shorts and baggy shirts, and how your sweet pussy was so wet and loud for him.

“Could you ask (Name) about supper?”

“Give me a second, ja?”

He flashed you a mean grin, putting the call on mute for better acting, playing the scene of him walking towards your room or where ever you were. His hand moved down to your neck, giving you a hard grip and holding you down, folding you in half, knees bent to your shoulders and feet jerking over his head. Seeming satisfied with his manhandling, the wet slaps of his hips hitting your thighs louder and the head of his cock ramming your spongy cervix, he picked up the phone, unmuting it and pressing it to your ear.

“Dear?”

“H-hi mom-” you gasped, the heavy curve of his cock and the bulging veins rubbing your back wall, you spasmed around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip.

“You remember that Italian place we went last week?”

“Ye-ah-yeah.”

She paused, her silence ringing louder than every slap that made your stomach bulge. You feared that she heard your slip up, the high-pitched mewl and pants you let out; you feared that crooked grin on his scarred lips and that proud and scheming gleam in his eyes. He changed his fast and rough pace for a deep and precise one, repeatedly aiming for that spot that made your eyes roll and back arch, finger thumbing your engorged clit.

“Are you okay?” You hated the worried tone mixed with that exhaustion, it picked at your heart.

“Yes-!” It came out harsher than you intended, pearly tears slipping from your squinted eyes.

König’s manhandling and pointed hits made your walls clench around him, the coil in your navel tightening to a delirious amount, making your head spin and mind dumb.

“Okay… Do you want anything for tonight?”

“Ro-rosé, please.”

“All right, I’ll see you tonight then.”

Any later and she would have heard you scream your mind off, you let moans roll off your tongue without restraint, nails digging into his back and back arched upward. He lowered your legs to his elbows, opening your legs to watch you come, your cunt swallowing him to the base, pumping in and then back out with a white ring around is cock from your shared pleasure. He made a sound of satisfaction, hands wandering down to grip your hips, riding out his pleasure leisurely and yours a fiery white blaze that burned through your body.

“You heard her, ja? Looks like we have more time to play.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[snowsinterlude]

🎀 - private classes, lacy panties and strawberry prints.

summary: your mother and your father trusted coriolanus snow with their lives, especially seeing how good your grades have gotten. but of course, the way he made you pay attention to what you were learning was a secret.

content warning: oral recieving (f.), fem reader, squirting, mentions to a blowjob, thigh riding, snow teasing you both sexually and verbally, dirty talk, smut, p in v, nsfw (mdni), dom snow, sub reader, creampie.

w.c: 2.083

first things first, you need to remind how coriolanus snow, heir of the snow name and everything that came to it, was now sitting between your legs, kneeling while his fingers teased your pussy through your panties.

on the dinner your father held to celebrate the development of his business growing up and being praised by the current president of Panem, your mother was in charge of the guest list, so of course she invited the Snow family, his cousin and his grandma'am.

you didn't expect it, but you should have expected that she would embarass you like this in front of your classmate.

"coriolanus, you're such a peach! i can't believe such a smart handsome young man like that still exists." you looked at her, lip syncing for her to stop, she didn't even bat an eye at you.

"i'm flattered, truly. but i'm sure i'm not the only one on the capitol with good manners." he said, smiling kindly at your mother. god, if he knew how your heart beat stronger when you saw this smile of his, you'd be damned. "your daughter, for exemple, is the sweetest girl i've ever had the pleasure to speak to. even though we only talked today." he said, the glass of posca on his hand travelling all the way to his lips but you could see how small his sip was.

"oh don't praise her too much, her grades are not as sweet as she is." she laughed, and you swear to god you preferred to die than to listen to that talk. "perhaps you could teach her a bit? i'd be glad to pay you."

"mom!" you called out, turning to him and shaking your hands "don't listen to her, please. truly, i don't want to bother you."

"non-sense, i'd be glad to teach you. and it would be even better actually, i'd have the chance to review the content of our classes." he smiled sweetly to you, and you thought you could melt right away from how shaky your legs were. "when can we start?"

he asked you, not your mother. you. and for the first time you felt seen, you felt like your opinion mattered.

"tomorrow, eight p.m..?" you asked, your eyes felt so wide looking at him, and he laughed, nodding positively.

"i'll see you at the library, don't be late." he patted your head. it was a swift move, and you blinked rapidly as you saw him walk away.

so, now, on your first class together, snow kissed you deeply, his hand gripping hard on your waist as you kissed him back. you didn't even know how it came to that by this point, but right now, it was the fifth library study meeting you had with him and the teasing he was making you pass through was too torturing.

"tell me, dear. what's the answer?" he asked, kissing your inner thighs and making your body shiver.

"i-i don't... i-i can't think straight like that, coryo, i-" he sucked on the fabric of your wet panties, your body jolting as his lips made contact with your sensitive clit, sucking on it and letting it go with a delicious wet pop sound.

"you can do better than that, c'mon. what's the answer, dove?" he licked you entirely, from your cunt to your clit, right through your panties. "you know you're not dumb, you just need to think harder."

"i-i know, i just- ah-" you moaned a bit when he pulled your panties aside, blowing on your clit and chuckling at how wet you were. so sweet, so pretty, he couldn't help but suck on your cunt.

"you're so sensitive, you just need to answer me and i'll let you cum, c'mon." he rubbed your clit a bit, slowly, your tears appearing as you sobbed a bit. "how many people Panem have in it's entirety?"

"3.5 m..million, coryo." you moaned out, thrusting your hips forward. it was too brain-mushing. you were looking so dumb and he didn’t even touched you directly- only his tongue.

"wrong, dear." he smiled to your despair, his lips kissing your clit before he sat by your side, pulling you to sit on his thigh with your back turned to him. "it's 4.5 million. c'mon, you knew it."

his hands found your waist pretty quickly, guiding you to ride his thigh back and forth, his kisses on your neck made you pout at the whole thing. he was such a tease.

"another question, if you get it right, i have a reward to you, okay?" you nodded submissively while he pinched your nipple, you didn't recall when but his hand slyly travelled to your boob through inside your blouse. "how many districts panem originally had?"

it was terrible. your pussy was grinding on his thigh like you were a bitch in heat, his pants were getting damped by you and you were oh so sensible it seemed like a joke.

"t-thirteen." you answered, and he smiled proudly, giving your clit a light slap which made you jolt violently. he sat you prettily on the desk, pulling his cock out.

"see? when you want to do get something right, you can. you just have to desire it." he said, passing his tip through your smooth wet pussy, his dick getting coated with your juices. "now, let's do some more to see if you got it right, okay?"

"mhm." you hummed, lips red and glossy, a result of the overstimulation you were recieving.

"good girl. now, how long did panem exist before the dark days?" he asked, kisses being placed on your neck.

"i-i don't know- i... uh, t..twenty years?" you attempted, only to be answered with his cock slapping your pussy, making you mewl.

"god, you're such a whiny baby. it's okay, i'll teach you that later. want to try another question?" he asked you, his tip teasing your hole. you nodded frantically. "good. now, why does the hunger games exists?"

"i-it's a punishment to the districts- because of the rebellion. a-and the rebellion is the motive to why d..district 13 don't exists anymore." he kissed you, smiling at you while pushing his dick inside, making you melt away any kind of inteligence you still had.

"god, you're so tight-" he moaned, thrusting slowly into you. the slowest he was, the more you cried, begging and sobbing for release, trying to move your hips on his dick. "shh, calm down, dove. it's just a few seconds and we'll be all good to go, okay?" he smiled when you nodded, pathetic. "such a good bitch. i'll let you suck my dick later."

your eyes seemed to shine at it, your mouth felt like drooling. "t-truly?"

"uhum. you've been such a good girl, let's make this your reward, okay?" you nodded frantically.

"t-thank you." and he thrusted faster into you, his rhythm quickening up more and more to the point your breasts were bouncing and he couldn't help but suck on them, his mouth messily sucking your nipples and fondling them kindly.

"you're so good to me, i can't help myself around you knowing your pussy feels so good on my cock." he growled, lips brushing on your as he spoke, kissing you messily while you moaned into the kiss, your pussy squeezing on him and milking his cock. "you're already cumming? god you're so desperate." he chuckled, pulling out of you while you cried out, your pussy clenching, missing his dick.

however, your leg was on his shoulder already, while his mouth sucked your pussy just as eagerly as you wanted to suck his dick, your scent filling his senses while he nipped lightly on your clit making you grip on his hair, your warm gummy walls squeezing his two fingers into you, but of course, two fingers weren't the same as his dick.

but, to your pleasure, he had the perfect fingers to your pussy, thrusting them quickly on your pussy while you melt away, calling his name, trying to warn him.

"c-coryo, coryo! p-please- g-god, stop! stop! i-i n-need to pee- i-" he smiled on your cunt, you were so innocent sometimes, how could you not know that this was just your body wanting to squirt?

he opened his mouth, sucking more of you on him, you moaned and cried out, squirting on his mouth as he smiled at you.

"i-i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i didn't want to-" he pecked a kiss on your lips, chuckling as you licked it, tasting yourself.

"that's a squirt, baby. that's not piss." he said, putting his cock inside of your overstimulated pussy, filling you entirely. "you should've seen your face, so cute."

"t-that's not funny" you said, nails scratching his shoulders and neck while he thrusted faster into you.

"yes, it is. you looked like a whore, you know?" he kissed your temple, licking the tears on your cheek. "all needy and wet for my dick. as if i haven't fucked you yesterday too."

"'s because y-you're too mean!"

"mean? me? and how is it?" he thrusted faster, pinching your nipples and making you mewl your cries out.

"y-you're always teasing me, a-and your fingers, t-they're always teasing my pussy too. you know it!"

"i know." he chuckled. "i can't help it. you're always so pretty and dolled up for me, you can't blame me for fucking you when your pussy is milking my cock like that." he said, nibbling on your nipple.

"c-coryo, i-i think i'm gonna cum again" you warned, but he didn’t care, and even when you did cum, he kept going until his balls twitched, his cum filling you up while your eyes were squeezed shut and your mouth was all red from all the times you bit your bottom lip.

"god, such a pretty bitch." he whispered, making you shiver while he pulled alway and dressed you on your pathetic panties again. "you're gonna sleep with my cum inside you, okay? i want you to."

you nodded in a pathetically submissive way, too dumb to contest.

"dear! dear, y/n's report card is here!" your mother yelled to your father, making you mewl in discontempt as you got out of your room with coryo, who had to stop mid way to get your hair brushed by his fingers and quickly straight your clothes.

"oh my.." your father seemed surprise as he analysed your grades. proud, even. since he always seemed too unhappy with your grades.

"what is it?" your mother asked, looking over his shoulder.

"her grades are much better than ever, great heavens, i can't believe it. it's almost a miracle!" your father said, smiling proudly. "dear, i'll let you have your credit card back, you can buy whatever you want okay? daddy will buy your favorite cake later." he said, patting your head and turning to coryo. "boy, i need to thank you, how can i ever repay you?"

"you don't need to, sir. i'm glad to help your daughter anyway." he said, smiling as your father patted his shoulder. "i can keep on helping her if it is of your liking."

"yes, please. it would be incredible if you did." your father said, giving your report card to your mother, who squealed happily while hugging you and saying something about framing your report card in a gold rosé frame. "but i may ask, coryo.."

"yes?" he asked.

"how did you get her to memorize it? we hired the best particular teachers in the capitol and she never improved. how did you do it?" your father asked.

"ah... it is just a particular studying method i invented. i'm afraid it is a secret, sir." coriolanus laugh filled your ears, and you wanted to laugh too, but you licked your lips only, tasting his dick on your lips.

"i understand it. please keep doing the good job. i'm glad you're teaching my daughter." your father said, giving you two permission to go back to fucking studying.

when you arrived to your room, coryo locked the door and you immediatly dropped to your knees, unbuckling his pants as you salivated eagerly for him.

"i'm proud of you, dove." he smiled, caressing your hair as you smiled too, his cock slapping your face a bit once it got out of it's confines, but you didn’t care, next thing you knew was that your head was bobbing on his cock and your panties were fulfilled by the time he left.

[nerdvi]

In the wake of the whole james somerton fiasco and inspired by this post, I wanted to share a few of my um, soft signs, like, orange flags to detect when someone is bullshitting you.

First of all, I am on the spectrum which means 1) I tend to take what people say at face value and 2) I have a strong sense of justice which makes me prone to biases, all of which combined means I am at perpetual risk of swallowing the bullshit.

So, what to do about it? You turn on the critical thinking and pay attention.

As one of my favorite youtubers, Hannah Alonzo, likes to say: "consider the source, remember the motive". Who is talking to you?? What do you know about them?? What biases might they have?? How do they interact with your own biases?? Where are they talking from?? Is it anger?? happinness? boredom?? Also, why are they talking to you? Are they trying to sell you something?? Are they trying to convince you and why?? How do they go about the finantial motivation, if present? If you have, in this case, a white cis gay man talking to you as it he has it the worst of the worst in the world, there's probably some exaggeration and you should start to wonder. There's a good chance he's bullshitting you.

How they talk about women and POC No, no, stay with me. There's a rule I had back when I was dating men: Always beware of how they treat their mother. With the exception of extremes like mama's boys and cases of abuse, how a man treats the woman with whom they have that familial bond is a good indicator of how they are going to treat you. Do they berate her? speak ill of her? are aggressive or controlling? do they dismiss her opinions? Same with creators, and by god I tell you, specially cis male creators, queer or otherwise, always always beware of how they speak of women, how they treat women, how they treat POC. Somerton had a weird vendetta against straight women. It went mostly unnoticed. Then, he was dismissive towards lesbians and other queer women and it was once again overlooked. Then he went ahead and made sinophobic content about genres and cultures he knows NOTHING about. Again, it went unchecked. What I am telling you is IT'S NOT NORMAL. Contempt about women and non white-western cultures is not normal and if someone has them as them as an enemy or a scapegoat, they're probably bullshitting you. Take what they say and fact check it, see for yourself.

If at any point in a video or an essay you find yourself thinking "wait, really??" then it's time to fact check. Is it a bit suspicious?? is your logic telling you that's not quite how this works?? Then take to google, my friend, they might be bullshitting you. At worst, you dodge a fake fact, at best, you learn way too much about a topic you were already interested in.

Beware of the lack of nuance. I can not stress this enough. We all love monochrome, but life and societal issues are never black and white. It's just impossible, there's too many factors to consider. If you are being presented situations or anecdotes as absolute truths, you're probably being bullshitted. If it's too good to be true, it is. If it sounds waaay too convenient, it probably is. A good researcher, a serious investigator, will always have some nuance because they have done the work and checked the sources. If someone provides you 1) no nuance and 2) no sources, THEY'RE BULLSHITTING YOU.

These are the ones I can come up with just of the top of my head, I'm sure there's more and please, add them. Remember that naivité isn't a crime, I'm fairly naive and that's made me distrustful, and these are some of the techniques I've found that help me navigate through a world of information without losing myself.

[superkitten-poison]

THIRD LANGUAGE SPOTTED🎆🎆🎆🎆 THANK YOU @sapphicfandompirate id totally forgotten it

its interesting to note how that scene plays out very differently than any instance of spanish, since all the hispanic characters seem to be fluent and just pepper in insults, terms of endearment or entire phrases in conversations that are otherwise fully in english, while the italian here is pretty nonsensical and spoken by a character who's implied to have italian descent but doesnt seem to actually speak the language, only know a few things here and there (which as someone with italian great grandparents i throughly relate to lol)

this is an honest question i would honestly love an answer to. in either hazbin hotel or helluva boss has a single character spoken a language that not english or spanish?

[kiirschtein-archive]

⋆ 「 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 (𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞) 𝐦𝐨𝐦. 」 ⋆

feat. — toji fushiguro x f!reader, kid!megumi

word count. — 1.4k

content. — sfw, non-sorcerer au, established relationship (marriage), mostly just fluffy domestic stuff, reader is addressed as ‘mom/mama/mommy,’ toji’s kind of a bad parent but he’s working on it, brief mention of toji smoking (cigarettes), overprotective!toji, very minor suggestive themes (from toji 🙄 he’s a walking cw/tw)

notes. — idk. this has been incessantly on my brain pretty much from the moment i  woke up today, even to the point where i was writing half of this at  the laundromat lmao. mother’s day yesterday had me feeling some type of way, so here have some fun headcanons from a strange eldest daughter!!!! (i might end up doing a set of these for gojo x reader too 🤔)

⋆ 「 — he’s not your biological son, but you’ve been around since you started seeing toji when megumi was still a baby. but now, a few years later, you might as well be his real mother. you certainly act like it and feel like it, so toji gladly initiates the conversation about official adoption. it just makes sense. you eventually explain the situation to megumi as best as you can simply so that he doesn't grow up thinking he was lied to or anything of the sort, but as far as he's concerned, you're his mom whether it's by blood or not.

⋆ 「 — and oh, megumi’s a mama’s boy. i imagine he’s just a little bit of a healthier kid vs. canon given the better family situation, but he’s still always a bit of a grumpy baby, appreciating his autonomy and trying to be as self-sufficient and mature as he can be. but he’ll most certainly run to you when he needs help, is truly hurt, or just needing a bit of comfort. you’ve always treated him so softly and kindly with understanding, so he honestly feels more comfortable coming to you most of the time instead of his dad.

⋆ 「 — he likes the way you organize the bookshelf in his room or fold and sort his clothes in special little ways. he gets upset any time toji tries to put a book back in the wrong place or can’t figure out where his damn socks are. gumi will scowl and say, “that’s not where it goes.” or go deadpan and be like, “mom always keeps the socks in the bottom drawer.” disappointed that his father can’t even remember. toji just grumbles and says, “your mama’s gonna ruin you.”

⋆ 「 — has called you 'mom' basically since he was old enough, but don't let him fool you. megumi will drop the big boy act and come out with 'mama' or 'mommy' when something's wrong or he's really excited. he'll come to you with quiet tears and sniffles, a little ashamed that he's crying, but present to you a scraped elbow, "mama... it hurts." you clean up the scrape and explain to him the little medical details in a somewhat understandable way to help him focus on something besides the pain, and you tell him that it'll be okay, and that it's alright to cry. or on the flip-side, you and toji take him to the zoo, little gumi on his dad's shoulders, and he gasps and points excitedly, "look, mommy! look at the big elephant!" and it feels incredible to see him be so spirited.

⋆ 「 — along the lines of the art from this post and the thought i had about it earlier, just imagine that you're at some event (maybe like a birthday party or something), and toji's been hauling megumi around. they're both so over it at this point and are like 'please get me out of this' so as soon as toji walks past the obnoxious inflatable bouncy house, he smirks and just YEETS that kid inside without a second thought. after regaining his breath, megumi just looks at his father with the most EVIL little scowl as other kids bounce around him with smiles. by the look on that child's face you could've swore that his father had just done him the ultimate betrayal.

so gumi slides out and hurriedly makes his way over to where you're sitting off to the side, quietly climbing into your lap for a little bit of solace. he wiggles in close to your chest and you tuck him under your chin with a ‘come here, sweetpea,’ rocking slowly and humming something soft because he always seems to like it when you do.

toji comes over and you look at him through narrowed eyes. "kids are supposed to like shit like that," he says.

"you know he likes when things are more quiet," you respond, and toji rolls his eyes at how you seemingly spoil your son.

"just thought it might be good for him to try and get along with the other brats." toji tries to cover up the fact that he tossed his kid for the sheer personal enjoyment of it.

you huff in disbelief. "oh, like you get along so well with everyone?"

he scoffs and moves in behind you, leaning down to place a kiss on your neck. "i get along with you," he says almost suggestively.

you just keep stroking megumi's hair and give the top of his head a gentle kiss. "yeah, well not today," you say, shooting a smug, resolute smile towards your husband, ultimately taking his son's side.

⋆ 「 — outside of his alone time, megumi would honestly much rather be with you instead of other children. toji thinks it's probably unhealthy and you're inclined to agree, but you also don't want to force megumi into situations that will just make him miserable. so, when appropriate, you don't mind at all pacing around with him in your arms or have him walk next to you (maybe holding your hand if he’s not in a ‘big boy’ mood), teaching him about the things you see in the woods, the park, or even the museum. when toji's not away working, he'll join too because it admittedly makes his heart feel soft to watch you two together. it always has, because you've been doing this with megumi since he was a baby. it never gets old. if it wasn't already so difficult trying to figure out how to do things right by his son, he'd want you to give him even more babies.

⋆ 「 — megumi likes doing things with his dad sometimes too, though. toji tries his best to do it right and watch both his mouth and his temper. you like seeing them getting along, even if it's just quietly watching tv or a movie (probably a cartoon where toji gets kind of into and will ask the occasional question like "why does that one stupid chick keep doing that?" and megumi just shrugs like, "i dunno. she is pretty dumb.") or playing ball outside because gumi's starting to show some athleticism. but you have to remind toji that he can't always be so rough or competitive with games because megumi is literally a child.

⋆ 「 — toji can also be way too overprotective of you two at times. you'll be out and about and he'll just be wearing such an intimidating expression as he walks behind you both, on the lookout for anyone who might want to cause trouble or take the wrong sort of glance at his wife. he'll even snap at people for walking too close or like cutting in line or something petty, and you have to tell him stop acting like an attack dog and looking like the grim reaper because dear god you're literally just having lunch at the park. even at his age, megumi's just eating his ice cream and looking at his dad with his little baby deadpan expression and thinking "this man really needs to take a chill pill." other times he can be more relaxed, however, obviously confident in his ability to protect you. it depends on his mood. but that still doesn’t stop him from being embarrassing and going off on people in public if something happens.

⋆ 「 — you also know all of gumi’s favorite meals and snacks. it’s yet another one of those things where, if his dad does it wrong, megumi expresses a disappointment beyond his years. toji will be making and packing his son’s school lunch just as instructed by the notes you gave him, but it’s by no means as neat and meticulous as when you do it. toji’s got a cigarette hanging out of his mouth with furrowed, concentrating brows, his free hand shakily reaching for a cup of fresh coffee, and megumi’s standing there with his little backpack, criticizing his father the entire time. “mom doesn’t do it like that,” he says.

“well mom ain’t here right now. and it doesn’t matter how the sandwich is cut, is still tastes the damn same.”

gumi doesn’t even physically react, still wearing the same neutral expression, just waiting for his dad to hurry up. “mom says you shouldn’t smoke. and she also says not to use bad words.”

toji scoffs and then smirks. “well mommy uses all sorts of bad words you don’t even know about when her and daddy have play time.”

megumi’s already almost late for school and can barely feel his feet from how tight his dad tied his shoelaces. he also asks you later about “play time,” and you want to absolutely murder your husband over it.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You agree to do a favour for your coworker but it might be more than you can handle.

Character: Clark Kent

Day Nineeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - fake dating becomes too real.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"I know it sounds weird, but, my mom's getting up there..." Clark looks away as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

You're not sure how he does it. How someone like him can make himself look pathetic. He's a big man. Mountainous really. He dwarfs just about everybody in the office. Even the desks look tiny next to him. And the chisel of his face is so sharp yet in that moment, he looks heart-wrenchingly soft. 

"It's just you two this year?" You ask. 

"Um, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck then drags his hand around and down his chest. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. "Look, I know I can be nosy but I overheard you and Maggie. You said you don't have any plans this year--" He cringes and leans forward, putting his elbows to the desk as he covers his face then peeks out between his fingers. "It's a dumb idea." 

"It seems like you're pretty stressed," you fold your hands behind you. You don't want to agree with his last statement and make him feel worse. 

"Yeah, after Lois..." he shakes his head, "my mom's convinced I'm going to be alone forever and she keeps telling me how old she's getting. Says she wants to live long enough to see me happy." 

"Wow, sounds worse than my mom," you kid but quickly deflate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make light." 

"No, it's ridiculous," he heaves and drops his eyes. "I've asked two of my neighbours, I asked my mail lady, and oh, yeah, the girl who made my coffee today. I'm all out of shame." 

"Can I think about it?" You ask. You know you're going to say no, but you don't want to do it right away. 

He perks up and his blue eyes flick to meet yours. His brows rise hopefully and he rolls forward in his chair, "really?" 

"I didn't say yes." 

"But you're the first person not to say no," he smiles. 

Oof, there it is. You've always had a hard time in situations like these. You're a people pleaser in the worst way. 

"Anyway, I should get back to work," you say. 

"When-- when will you know?" He asks. 

You hesitate. 

"End of today?" He suggests. 

You nod. Alright. You just need to get out of there before you cave to that puppy dog sparkle in his eyes. A man who looks like that shouldn't be able to make himself so pitiful. 

✨

You don’t know why you said yes. You really were going to say no but when Clark came back to check in, you weren’t prepared. So absorbed in your work, that you forgot about the odd request. 

So here you are, right beside him, wound as tight as a spring as you try not to show it. It’s not how you imagined spending Christmas. When your typical traditional obligation felt through, you were almost relieved. Now that dread has returned but in a new flavour. Meeting someone else’s family is somehow more intimidating than your mother’s judgement. 

Clark’s own anxiety pales in his knuckles as he drives silently. Only the radio provides some softness in the tension between you. It’s always strange to spend time with coworkers outside the office and now you’re jumping headfirst into their most personal facet. 

You fidget in your seat and let your eyes blur out the window. You didn’t expect his mom to live this far, yet you should have. He’d mentioned before he grew up on a farm. It must have been nice in a way, peaceful, out where you can’t hear the city honking and hollering. 

The snow thickens as you get further into the country. His large truck doesn’t falter as he steers cautiously through snowed over tire tracks. Would the plow even get this far out here? If it did, you don’t imagine it would come very often. 

Your mind latches onto those random things to avoid the obvious. You’ve always been this way. Instead of worrying about your mother lecturing you about your stagnant work situation, you’re usually more concerned with how your hair lays or if she’s going to the like that bottle of wine you spent too much money on for her. 

“Thanks again,” Clark’s baritone rolls over you like thunder. “Really. I know it’s... strange. I’m just not ready to date again but... my mom...” 

“Trust me. I get it. My mom can be... a lot,” you chuckle, though it’s really not that funny. 

“Oh yeah? I didn’t want to be nosy, but...” 

“Right, uh, you know, my brother asked if we could have dinner on Christmas Eve instead and the rest of us agreed. She insisted that Christmas Eve isn’t Christmas...” Your heart picks up with the anxiety you bury deep down. “Well, she cancelled Christmas since no one agreed with her.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Uh, yep,” you can’t look at him. It’s embarrassing. It’s like when your mother dumped your birthday cake in the garbage because you pointed out you were 13 not 12 that year. Or when she walked out of your graduation because your grandmother wouldn’t switch seats. “It’s whatever. Family, right?” 

“I guess,” he says. “My parents always loved holidays too. Especially when dad was around.” 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you murmur. 

“Don’t be. Sorry if it seems like I keep bringing that up,” he sniffs. 

You look ahead to the sole structure as it looms closer and closer. A farmhouse that comes clearer through the drift of flakes, and a barn like a shadow near its rear corner. It’s like one of those classic festive paintings printed on an advent calendar or some 1950s domestic dream. 

He pulls up to the house and shifts in his seat. Concern needles in his cheek as he squints over the steering wheel. He wrenches the shifter into park and kills the engine. You sit futilely and let him take the lead. 

“Lights are off,” he mutters. 

You nod, unsure what to say. Is something wrong? 

He gets out and you watch the snow dust into his dark hair and across his broad shoulders. He is unfettered by the deep snow. You zip up your coat and turn to your door. You push it open and look out into the perilous carpet. 

Clark surprises you as he comes around. “Here,” he puts his arms out, “it’s deep.” 

You grab his hand and his other goes to your waist. He as good as lifts you and sets you down in the path he’s stomped through the piles. You thank him and awkwardly detach. He shuts the door and moves around you closely. 

He leads the way to the porch so you can walk through his footsteps. Your lashes catch the snow as you look up at the grey sky. You don’t think you’ll make it home that night. Shoot. 

Clark kicks off his boots as he digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out some keys. He unlocks the door and gestures you in ahead of him. You try to clear off your treads before you enter. He reaches around the frame to flip on the light. 

He crowds you as he enters. You try not to step off the mat and make a mess of the floor. You slip free of your Adidas, not the best choice for the weather, and shuffle aside. He hangs his jackets and combs his fingers through his hair to clear the flakes out. The dark strands glisten with the moisture. 

“Give me your coat,” he reaches for you. 

“Oh, yeah,” you unzip your jacket and hand it over. It isn’t exactly climate appropriate either. You’ve been meaning to invest in winter gear. A lot of times your intentions are only ever that. “Thanks.” 

“Quiet...” he mulls as his eyes skim the ceiling and he hooks your jacket on the rack. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Ma’s probably laying down,” he utters with a hint of concern. “I’m gonna go check and see what’s going on.” 

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” 

“No worries. She stays up all night reading,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

“Right, er, okay.” 

You back up as he passes you. He heads upstairs and you slowly pivot to take in the interior. The pale wood is marked with knots which give it an even more rustic atmosphere and the decor is simple but in a quaintly traditional way. The details etched into the slender drawer of a side table or the dainty trim of the area rug give a lived-in effect. 

You tiptoe into the front room and hug yourself as you feel a draught whisper in around the window. You find the light switch and flip it on to cast more light across the neatly arranged furniture. There's an old-fashioned iron firestove in the middle of the room, the flue built up to the ceiling.  

You can hear Clark moving around above. The rest of the house is silent. You look at the old grandfather clock standing against the wall. It’s just after eleven in the morning. 

You turn as the stairs creak. Clark appears in the doorway with a sober expression. “Mom’s just waking up. It might be a while. She... she’s having a tough day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she sick?” 

“She is and she isn’t. Just getting older, you know? Ever since she broke her hip last year, she’s been a bit slower,” he explains. 

“Oh, gosh, Clark,” you say. “Is there anything I can do to help? You said she was planning on dinner but I can get all that started for her.” 

“Sure, she usually thaws the turkey in the sink overnight,” he says. “We should probably start there.” 

“Right,” you chew your lip. 

“It’s nice of you to offer but if it’s too much--” 

“No, no! It’s cool. I’ve just never stuffed a turkey on my own,” you say. “I was always just an observer.” 

Your mother never believed anything was done right unless she did it herself. Then she’d complain about having to do it. 

“I can help,” he offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I think she might appreciate the help, huh?” 

He smiles but doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stares. He clears his throat and nods at last, “she would—will.” 

“Show me where it all is,” you show your palms, not wanting to presume too much. 

He beckons you after him as he leads you through the doorway perpendicular to the one you came through. He turns on another light. This place feels desolate with them off. 

“So uh...” he begins as he goes to the counter and peeks in the sink, “yep, turkey’s in here.” 

“Great, hopefully it’s dethawed,” you say. “Alright, do you mind if I poke around?” 

“It’s all yours. I’ll try to help but gotta be honest, as a kid, I was out in the field,” he stands back to watch you. 

“Right,” you come forward to look the turkey over. Good thing is it won’t need extra time due to being half-frozen. 

“Hum... do you know if your mother does stuffing from scratch or a box?” You turn back to him. 

“Scratch, probably,” he shrugs. 

“Cool, uh, I need bread,” you declare. It’s almost nice being in charge. A very new but refreshing feeling. 

✨

The smell of turkey wafts from the stove as you work at the other fixings. You follow the list on the fridge. The paper is a bit yellowed but you can read it nonetheless. At least Clark’s mother is a planner. Although a few of her ingredients are a bit... aged. Nothing you can’t use but the spices have a little extra dust on the caps. 

Clark appears again. He’s been pacing in and out, helping where he can, but he seems too restless to focus. You tap pause on your phone to stop the music. You don’t get any signal out here but you have a bunch downloaded. It helps ease the silence that thickens with the fall of snow. 

“So, how’s mom? She doing okay?” You ask. 

“Mom?” He hesitates, “yeah, she’s getting there. Sorry about this. I know the whole reason you did this was to make her happy. For me. I just didn’t expect--” He blows out a heavy breath and leans on the counter. “It’s hard when you get older and everyone you love starts to leave. Or change.” 

Your heart flickers. You try not to frown too deep, “I’m sorry, Clark.” You look back down at the bowl of soaking cranberries. You take your family for granted. The might be a little toxic but they’re there. 

“Not your fault. I just... I thought I had it figured out with Lois. Everyone was happy and my mom was ecstatic,” he clutches his hands together. You meet his eyes sheepishly. “I just wanted her to be that way again. And you’re so sweet and nice.” 

“Aw, Clark. Well, you know, I should thank you. At least I’m not alone on Christmas,” you try to pep yourself up. “Um, I gotta wait for these cranberries a little long. Could I use the bathroom?” 

“Right, er, it’s just down the hall,” he points towards the second doorway that interconnects with the same hallway that leads back to the stairs. 

“Thanks,” you wipe your hands on a dishcloth and leave him with a thin smile. 

As you flit out, your chest sinks. You think of everything you’ve said since you got there, how insensitive it must have seemed. And back in the car when you complained about your mom. Ugh, he must think you’re so ungrateful. 

You close yourself in the bathroom and tend to your business. You’d been holding it since he picked you up from your building. You wash your hands, pumping the soap bottle hard to dislodge a clog in the tube. You finally finish up but find the smell of mildew stuck to your hands from the towel. 

You come out of the bathroom and look up and down the hallway. You shift to see the framed picture a bit better. Those must be his parents, and little Clark. You can’t believe he was ever that small. 

There are other pictures across the table below. A cluster of frames; class photos, impromptu snaps of memories, and posed family shots. Beneath one, there’s a slip of paper. You try not to be intrusive but the fading font catches your eye. You lean in as you tilt the frame to see the full letter, the card bent and forgotten beneath. 

‘Our condolences. We were so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. Please do let us anything we can do for you.’ The message is signed Mallory and Chuck. You blink in confusion. Maybe it’s an old card meant for his mother; for a grandparent. 

“She died last year,” Clark startles you so you whip up and nearly tip as you stand straight. “It’s my first Christmas without her,” he continues. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t want to be alone.” 

You shake your head. Confusion swells through your stomach and clouds your brain. The fog clears and your eyes wander up to the ceiling. 

“Your mom?” 

“I miss her,” his voice cracks. “She took care of me.” 

“Oh, well, yeah,” you quaver unevenly. You’re reeling. Why would he lie about that? And to get you here? You’re just coworkers. “That must be hard.” 

“Mhm,” he nods and pouts. As he comes closer, you tense, wavering with his steps. “You’re not mad at me?” 

Your lips part then close. The wind whistles outside and reminds you of how isolated this place is. Clark drove you here... 

“I’m just... wondering why you need to lie,” you eke out. 

“I know it’s wrong but... if I told the truth, you might say no.” 

You nod and as he reaches for you, you wince away. You hug yourself and push your shoulders up. You swallow, “Clark, what is the truth? Why am I here?” 

He tilts his head and his eyes drift to the side. The light fades in his pupils and his jaw clenches. His fingers twiddle by his leg. 

“To be with me,” he looks at you again and smiles. A smile shadowed sinisterly beneath the worn bulb above. “You’re alone too.” 

You stare at him. Terror floods your veins and paralyses you. You want to turn and run but you won’t get far. All you can do is bide your time and hope that you can find a chance and way to get out. But for now, with him so close, so much bigger, you have to pretend. That is exactly what he asked you to do, after all.