#it shouldn't bug me this much but it Does

[red-mage28]

Genuinely despise any headcanon or fanon implication that N's some soft UwU femboy "malewife" pushover who only likes soft pastels colors and is a pussy bitch about violence

"N only plays games like animal crossing or nintendogs" "N would wear the dress and Uzi would wear the suit at the wedding" "Uzi totally wears the pants in the relationship" You don't know shit about N or Uzi.

N is someone I can see enjoying games more for the art and story. He likes the gameplay don't get me wrong, but he'd be the one who reads all the codex entries as he gets them in doom 2016 and eternal.

Uzi would hate wearing a suit. She probably hates all formal clothing and only wore the prom dress out of obligation cause her dad was gonna be at the prom (she probably warmed up to the idea of wearing it cause of N).

N I can see at least trying a dress and not feeling bothered by it. Enough to be the one wearing the wedding dress? Ehhh nah. N and Uzi'd probably just wear their prom outfits again, or Uzi gets some cool gothic wedding dress and wears that (like the one from this mini comic).

Then there's the part where he goes from "Oh, uh... J. You're- sometimes kinda mean to me, and I wish you weren't." to "You knew about the patch, yes or no? One. Chance."

[akimojo]

i just saw someone call ffxiii overrated like? what?? it's literally one of the most hated games in the franchise wym "overrated" 😭

[sskk-manifesto]

\\

[ratcandy]

i keep forgetting what's considered like... Common knowledge of bugs. Frequently I am shocked by someone not knowing what a larval ladybug looks like because I grew up with those so clearly everyone should know what a larval ladybug looks like. But people Don't. and that's crazy. what does the general public know about bugs. idk anymore

[seismologically-silly]

one of my friends got me playing metazooa so i've been playing practice rounds now that i got today's animal.

it's a bird! yay! the practice leads me down the tree to T. migratorius, or the American robin, but the picture and fun facts about the species at the end are all about E. rubecula, or the European robin. He's adorable, but they are in different families so this is an egregious error and i will not be forgiving them for it.

[skaruresonic]

the quintessential artist experience is hoping your loved ones have something, anything, positive to say about your work, only to get slapped in the face with nitpicks and criticisms. they're like "can I interest you in a cup of unsolicited criticism?," don't follow up with any good feedback, and then wonder why you struggle with horrendous self-doubt

Yesterday I showed my aunt a picture I did for a poster at the clinic, and all she had to say, literally the first thing out of her mouth, was "the nose is too round."

Too round??

I've noticed that's a pattern with her---I show her something I've done, and it's never good enough. In addition, she likes to remind me that I'm not a "real" adult (these bills would beg to differ).

Therefore, I've decided that, instead of letting such remarks fester inside until they result in depression, every time someone insults me, I will work 5% harder at my goals. I will not let others' pettiness and insecurity drag me down. That's not my problem to deal with.

[mushroom-for-art]

Hey @blues-sues, they consume me enjoy.

In the rain

Hidden under a rough covering of leaves, two Mewtwo sheltered themselves from the rain with the little dip huddling close for warmth as the rain splattered heavily around them. The red hued one kept his arms wrapped around his companion holding them close protectively, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings trying to pinpoint any abnormal movement or sounds from around the rain, his eyes darting to leaves that bounced under fat water droplets or branches that swayed in a gust.

He jolted flinching as a droplet that had rolled across the leaves fell on his back, water still getting them within their makeshift shelter. Feeling her shiver he held her tighter pulling her closer as rain thumped around them. He tilted and moved his head desperate to hear over the rain or anything past the rain as another droplet hit his arm then his tail. He couldn't help the growl that started to grumble and grow within the back of his throat and as it to insult him a drop plonked onto his head causing him to jolt and shift his body weight. His companion made a soft noise as she felt him moving.

He moved into a crouch, his arms still wrapped around his friend, his tail thumping into the sopping wet ground causing mud to fly around, his eyes frantic as the rain continued to pour indiscriminately around them.

He felt his companion lightly jump in his arms as rain hit her on the cheek, despite her quietly giggling at the sensation and surprise he felt aggressive. He shifted on his toes feeling quills starting to form under his body, his body beginning to stretch and morph. He felt his fingers and toes extending elongating outwards, his digits sinking into the dirt as he growled, feeling surrounded by thousands of unseen enemies and untraceable threats. He shoved himself upwards from his crouch standing and storming out into the rain even as his limbs screamed at him to not move. He bellowed snarling furious at the rain turning in circles as he was lashed with water in feral deranged hysteria.

Throwing his thick quills from his wrists, they sank into the mud into tree trunks as he paced in a circle overwhelmed with pain and sounds. The rain was horrid and wet and cold on his body and wracked him full of chill even as his limbs and body burned in searing agony. His wrists and fingers quivered in uncontrollable subtle shaking between freezing anxiety and overwhelming pain, his foot sank into the mud whimpering with the pain shooting up his leg as his tail thrashed. Everything was just too much as he growled over his pain at the sky daring the weather to come and fight him personally, it was an unstoppable entity, an enemy that needed to be subdued even as rain hit his face and into his eyes.

Shivering from the sudden loneliness his companion of pinks moved carefully from where she was huddled making a soft oop as her horns touched the leaves above her head and splattered her head. She moved her hands to feel around to carefully shimmy out from the little shelter. Unable to see anything but the aura of others she managed to step into the open. She had seen other aura traces but right now all she could make out were the waves of bright red energy rolling off of her companion. His aura flared outwards in powerful waves that almost sent her stumbling backwards, but she could read him and she could feel his pain and terror. Even as his aura blinded her vision further with red and the outline of his taller form she approached, with practiced caution.

Her hand reached out and she managed to brush against his tail as it swayed past her hand thankfully going over his quills in a way that flattened them and left her unharmed. She heard his startled breath and the splat of mud as he turned quickly to confront her with a snarl before quietening into a whimper. Despite being blind to turned her head up to meet where his gaze should be and raised her hands upwards towards him. She couldn't actually reach but she didn't need to, she felt his hands quickly cupping the back of hers and his face burying quickly into her palms as he mumbled apologies into her hold. She rubbed her thumbs carefully against his cheeks as he buried into her hands feeling his tail curl around her and pull her closer as he moved into a crouch still using his hands to keep hers on his face. Slowly he moved his hands moving them instead to wrap around her body pulling her in closer to himself as he pressed his face into her neck as her hands moved one holding his face the other gently holding his neck. His aura waves were calming from erratic spikes and waves to small rolls of energy but she could still sense he was in pain even if he didn't express it.

She tilted her head to the side gently bonking against him and lightly rubbing her cheek against the side of his head near his horns offering a soft comforting purr. The rain pattered above them as a psychic barrier was made like an umbrella, she squeezed him just softly closer to her purring a bit deeper, "there you go," she comforted, "that's better yea?" She felt him nod into her neck.

Her hand moved from his neck to rub down his upper back carefully, his quills already flattened, she could feel his body starting to change once more, his aura signature shrinking as his body reduced in stature and size back to his regular form, though he still huddled into her. Even though he was quiet she knew he was still in pain, the mega evolution took a great physical toll on his body it was something he really shouldn't have done but she could understand why. Had he ever really heard or felt the rain before? She'd heard it a few times from her own room but she figured to him this was already so much especially with how anxious and protective he'd become. She gently squeezed him closer to her and he made a soft mrrp.

"Come on, let's head back to the shelter, wait for this rain to stop." He nodded into her neck once more his hold on her tightening as she moved, "Rig, you gotta let go so we can move," she giggled softly as he made a bit of a stubborn grumble moving to pick her up as she squealed and very much told him off and to put her down for his own sake before he hurt himself further.

"I know you're already going to be aching from that evolution. You stop being silly and put me down no lifting anything, oh my Arceus Rigger!!" He ignored her protests carrying her back to the shelter and ducking under inside keeping the protect barrier above them to offer more security and ease his overwhelmed senses. He put her down but didn't release.

"That was very foolish and you know it I can feel the pain in your aura," he buried himself into her neck wrapping his legs and tail around her to hold her close to him as she tutted thumping her tail a little to express her mild frustration at his lack of self care before sighing leaning into his warm hold. "You better take it easy from now on though Rig, you're still recovering if you continue to push yourself too far you could be seriously hurt." Her voice was soft but he could hear the clear worry in her tone as she cuddled herself into him.

"Sorry Mel…" His voice a mumble, "I'll, try..promise.." She sighed softly, the sincerity was clear in his aura despite him struggling for words. She leant into him comfortable in his hold and warm as she felt him mutually lean and press into her, closing her eyes she just listened to the rain with him.

[meatymidnightmultiverse]

I know it shouldn’t, but that age ask earlier is bugging me...

[featherymainffins]

I thought I would walk some additional 14 km today and thus burn my accidental lunch (caved into peer pressure and went to a restaurant and had a salad instead of eating my perfectly counted can of tuna) and as such I agreed to go have breakfast with some friends tomorrow to celebrate the end of the excursion.

But I did not walk those 14 km because I wasn't able to get water + I just finished 12 hours of lectures + my arches were killing me + it was raining + I wanted to shower + I wanted to study + I was fucking freezing.

Which means I have to punish myself for my lack of discipline and I also have to make up for the food and that means I CANNOT have that breakfast. In fact I cannot have anything. For 2 days. Just to be sure.

So now I'm trying to figure out what lie I can make up. Currently thinking about saying that I just started to feel really nauseous all of a sudden and as such I unfortunately cannot eat breakfast oopsie. It feels really random and not really believable though.

[ylangelegy]

blindsided ꩜ wonwoo x reader.

── .✦ 💌 includes: fem!reader, office worker!wonwoo, alternate universe: office, pining, in denial!wonwoo, lewd thoughts, alcohol, making out, hand job, loss of virginity, praise kink, aftercare.

── .✦ 📟 inspired by THE business proposal scene. we all know which one, but gif attached anyway ♡︎ wc: 2,700

── .✦ 🚏 MDNI. 18+ CONTENT.

(Or: The three times Wonwoo keeps his glasses on, and the one time he doesn't.)

Wonwoo knows he's done for the moment that you walk in for your first day.

Despite his bad eyesight, he's not blind. He can tell when somebody is hot, and you fit that bill. Sue him.

Still, he tries to rationalize. There's not a lot of good-looking people in the company's IT department. That's probably it, he thinks to himself, as you smile warmly and introduce yourself to everyone.

Wonwoo has just been deprived of good views. That's it. That's all.

As you go to do rounds, he tries to focus on troubleshooting the network issue that some higher-up has been complaining about. But then you get to him, expecting his name, and Wonwoo suddenly can't bring himself to care about the DNS check he's supposed to be running.

"Jeon Wonwoo," he says in a perfectly level voice. "Welcome to the company."

Your face lights up. "Oh! I think you're the one who's supposed to be training me on the new systems."

Right. His boss had mentioned this. Something about onboarding the newbies. And Wonwoo had said yes, because that was just the type of person he was.

Fan-fucking-tastic, Wonwoo thinks as he gives you a quick once-over.

He manages to look bored as he does it. Almost scrutinizing. Truthfully, Wonwoo is not-so discreetly checking you out. The crisp white blouse, the tight pencil skirt, the black stockings.

So help him, God.

"Hope you can keep up," Wonwoo says for the lack of better thing to say.

The easy smile on your face remains, like you're unperturbed by Wonwoo's infamously cool demeanor. Somehow, that makes things infinitely worse.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as you leave to meet other people. He tries very, very hard not to watch the way your hips move as you walk away.

You're good, he'll give you that.

Wonwoo, once again, tries to make excuses. One had to be good in this field of work, in this company. You're not an exception; you're supposed to be the norm.

Even as the thought crosses his mind, he knows it's not entirely true.

There's one too many nepotism babies and pushovers who barely survive performance evaluations. But you're good. Eager to learn. Sharp in all the right places.

Wonwoo is a little bit jealous.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it, though, in between training you on the company's cloud service models and hammering out the new machine learning workflows.

And so he keeps his head down, and he points out the bugs in your codes, and he chalks up his initial attraction as a moment of weakness.

That is, until the two of you are last to leave the office on an unassuming Tuesday evening.

The two of you had gotten in to some long-winded debate about the future of AI. Wonwoo is only made acutely aware about how much time has passed when the janitor shuts off the lights, assuming everyone has gone home. You giggle; Wonwoo cracks the smallest of smiles.

As you both emerge from the company building, Wonwoo's glasses fog up.

It's a normal enough occurrence that he shouldn't be annoyed but it's also a little bit embarrassing. He's used to going home late, to being alone when he does this little ritual of his.

He's just about to take off his glasses when you do it for him.

There's nothing much he can do or say as you gently tug the glasses off his face, as you use a corner of your blouse to swipe off the condensation on the lenses. You're saying something— something about this being the most annoying thing about wearing glasses, about knowing the struggle— but Wonwoo can't hear it.

His gaze is fixed on your lithe fingers and the careful way they hold his specs. Something sparks in the back of his head. A thought, unbidden. How those fingers would look so much better wrapped around his—

Jesus. Wonwoo swallows hard as you hold out his glasses back to him.

The look on his face must be odd, because you're suddenly apologetic. "I must have overstepped," you say sheepishly.

Overstepped?

Wonwoo is pretty sure he's the one overstepping. He's the one imagining you bent over his desk, after all, where he'd be more than happy to keep two fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Instead, Wonwoo mumbles "you're good" as he puts his glasses back on just a little too forcefully. The nose pad presses in to his skin and leaves the smallest of marks, but he figures he deserves it with how he's being.

Wonwoo decides that maybe he's just repressed.

He's always been too busy to sleep around, to sleep with anyone, so this is just some twisted form of karmic justice. To have someone so desirable within sight but not within reach.

He asks for Mingyu to start setting him up on dates. His best friend is a little too glad to comply.

Wonwoo goes on about four before giving up.

Because it doesn't matter if he ends the night with a heated kiss or a mouth around his cock. Every single time, with each girl, he can only picture his company's drab cubicles, fingers flying across a keyboard, clicks of heels on a floor. (You, you, you.)

Things only go from bad to worse when the company celebrates its annual Christmas party at some swanky speakeasy. The alcohol is free-flowing, and God knows that Wonwoo needs it— because you're certainly not doing him any favors.

Your dress is a touch too short, and your smile is pretty, and Wonwoo really needs to get his head out of the goddamn gutter. He cannot, should not be fantasizing about what it would be like to drag you in to the alleyway outside, to hitch up your leg around his waist, to finally feel his aching hardness slide in to your—

"Wonwoo?"

He starts. It's a good thing he downed his drink earlier. Otherwise, he might've spilled his cuba libre all over the front of your purple dress.

You're squinting at him, a playful sort of grin on your face. For a moment, he terrified you've read his mind, but then you're slurring out, "Your glass is empty."

"That it is," Wonwoo says dryly. He lets you lead him over to the bar.

As the two of you wait for his drink to be made, you pull the rug out from underneath Wonwoo once again.

It happens so fast. One moment, you're discussing go-to karaoke songs; the next, you're grabbing his spectacles and trying them on for yourself.

They're ill-fitting on you and the frames don't match your face shape. Wonwoo nearly winces when you awkwardly try to adjust them by the temples.

"Your eyesight is a lot worse than I thought," you whine— a whine, my God. Wonwoo wants to die then and there.

When his whiskey sour is served, Wonwoo shoots it back and promptly orders another one.

"How do I look?" you prompt, tilting your head to one side.

For a moment, Wonwoo contemplates telling the truth.

You look like sin, he could say. You look like you'd make the prettiest sounds if your back was up against the door of the bar bathroom, if his hands were feeling you up over your dress, if his mouth was leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Wonwoo shakes his head. He's definitely not drunk enough to be saying all that.

"Fine," he grumbles. "You look fine."

Once you've had your fun, once his glasses are back on his face and you're off to charm whoever the hell else, he'll wish he could have been a little more truthful.

Here's the thing: For all of Wonwoo's intelligence as the company's go-to IT guy, he's still pretty oblivious where it matters.

He doesn't realize that you don't really give two shits about AI, that you're only staying so late at work for him. He doesn't pick up that your party dress had been purple because he had offhandedly mentioned once that it was his favorite color.

All of those little things only hit him when he finds you standing outside his apartment, looking mildly miffed. "How much longer do I have to flirt with you, Jeon Wonwoo?" you demand.

Oh. Oh.

"Not another day more," Wonwoo promises as he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you in to his flat. He thanks all the higher powers in the universe that Mingyu has decided to buzz off for the night.

Wonwoo's mouth is on yours the moment the door shuts behind you. It's messy, all clashing teeth and warring tongues. The sudden force of it has you reeling back a step.

His fingers find purchase at your hips, right over the very skirt of his wildest fantasies. You tilt your head like you're trying to deepen the kiss— only to have your forehead bump against his glasses.

You make a sound of protest against his mouth and he swears he sees stars.

Without missing a beat, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands just long enough to pull his glasses off. He casts them aside unceremoniously. He'll buy a new pair if he has to.

He's back to kissing you before you can even open your eyes.

By some miracle, the two of you make it to his bedroom.

It's only then that Wonwoo manages to tear himself away from your mouth, looking slightly panicked.

You're pinned underneath him, the top buttons of your blouse already undone. And you're a vision— your hair splayed out underneath you, your chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. Wonwoo has to resist the physical urge to keep making out with you.

"I—" he chokes out. "I haven't—"

Thank God you're smarter than him, because you immediately get what he's trying to say. You prop yourself up by your elbows to look at him. "We don't have to," you say carefully, your fingers curling around his bicep.

"That's the thing." He doesn't even bother to hide how desperate he sounds. "I kind of really fucking want to."

The smile you give him then makes his heart stutter. He resolves to unpack that later.

Right now, he focuses on the way you pull off his slacks, the way you spit in to your palm, the way you dip your hand past his boxers and—

"Holy shit," he exhales, because this is definitely leagues better than his imagination.

You're watching his every reaction as you slide the curve of your palm against him, as your fingers close and squeeze and tug, and it takes absolutely everything in Wonwoo not to flip your positions.

He prays for patience; he prays for grace. He prays that he doesn't finish just from a goddamn handjob.

Once you've deemed him sufficiently hard, the two of you do switch positions. Wonwoo reaches in to his bedside drawer for the condom that's been sitting there for months. (Mingyu, the cheeky bastard, had left it there as a gift. Wonwoo has never been more grateful for his best friend.)

Wonwoo snaps it on with a lot less finesse than he would've wanted. Soon enough, he's hovering over you, his fingers curled in to a white-knuckled grip around his sheets.

"I should probably stretch you out a bit," he whispers, his voice strained with the effort it's taking to keep himself together

But you shake your head, your hands catching in his dark locks as you practically drag him down. "Wonwoo, I swear," you whine. "If you don't fuck me this instant—"

It's not the hands in his hair that does it. Not the bluntness of your words.

It's that stupid, stupid whine.

Wonwoo thrusts in to you without preamble, and the scream catches in your throat as he fills you up.

"Fucking take it, then," he hisses.

Wonwoo was a bit worried that his inexperience would get in the way, but there's one thing he seems to have in common with you: He can be a pretty quick learner, too.

His thrusts are a bit clumsy and erratic, but he figures out what you like based on the sounds that you make, the way that you move.

You arch your hips up whenever he bottoms out. You whimper whenever his balls slap in to the cleft of your ass. And when his fingers finally find your bundles of nerves, you say his name so beautifully.

"Just like that, Wonu," you gasp, rendered incapable of saying his full name. He likes the way it sounds, so he rewards you with another sharp thrust. You babble on, "Fuck, yeah. That's good. You're so fucking good."

Something inside him burns, then. Enough to have him picking up the pace, to have him pressing the calloused pads of his fingers in to every inch of bare skin that he can reach.

You seem to notice his renewed vigor, and the minx that you are— despite the fact you're being fucked stupid— you give him more.

You moan that he's perfect and doing so well and so fucking hot, and his cock only bullies in to you harder with every pretty word.

"I'm not going to last—" Wonwoo warns through gritted teeth, his grip bruising on your hip. "I'm not going to last much longer if you keep talking to me like that."

His fingers are already fumbling; his pace, stuttering. He's not sure how much more praise he can take, but then you have to go and whimper about how badly you've wanted him, just like this—

Wonwoo manages to bottom out just one more time before coming undone.

The feeling of him twitching inside you, of him panting against the side of your neck, has you following not long after. It's absolutely torturous, the way you clamp down on him like you're squeezing him dry.

Wonwoo gathers his bearings enough to pull out. He heaves out a sigh and falls back on to his bed beside you, his own thighs still shaking a bit from all the effort he's exerted.

A beat. Neither of you speak; you're both too busy catching your breath, coming down from your respective highs.

But then you're sitting up, moving, and Wonwoo physically feels his heart drop.

"Where are you going?" he stammers. He can't even bring himself to sound cool about the prospect of this just being a one-time thing.

You put him out of his misery rather swiftly. At the foot of his bed, you pause, take one look at his face, and then soften significantly. Your gentle pat to his ankle is a welcome reprieve.

"We should clean up," you tell him, somehow managing to reassure his unspoken fears. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Ah— first door down the hall."

You don't pull on any of your clothes as you go, so Wonwoo doesn't bother to hide the way he watches you leave.

Once you're out his bedroom door, Wonwoo suddenly feels boneless. He sinks further in to his bed and contemplates how the hell he's going to go about this— whatever this is.

Wonwoo's overthinking is cut short when you bound back in to his room, your hands behind your back. He barely has any time to speak before your lips are on his.

It's a sweet kiss, one that catches him off-guard. He's frozen for only a millisecond before his eyes flutter close and he melts right in to you, his hand resting at the side of your face.

It's not quite the answer that he's looking for, but it's a close thing.

When you peel away, his head rises from his pillow, desperately chasing your mouth. You let out a tinkling sort of laugh before pulling your hands out from behind you— and placing his glasses on for him.

Wonwoo blinks confusedly underneath his lenses.

"Just need to make sure that you can see what you're getting in to," you tease as you push his hair out of his forehead.

He just looks at you for a second. And oh, is he done for.

"Yeah," he breathes. "I see you."

[save-a-forest-ride-a-bear]

🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ General Dating Headcanons ❛ ✧

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Wyll & Halsin

# Note: content warning for very brief talk of abuse and general trauma back to navigation ´ˎ˗

🌿┊ASTARION

Talk about touch and attention starved. This guy wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it hit him in the face. Whenever you're nice to him or touch him without any innuendo, he's on edge. You must want something from him. Why else would you be doing this? It doesn't make sense.

Speaking of which, touching him out of nowhere usually doesn't end well. He has a tendency to flinch. He cackles and says he just thought he saw a bug, "Silly me," but you both know better than that.

He grows used to it, however. It just takes some warming up to. Eventually, the discomfort fades, replaced by a yearning so strong he swore he felt his heart beat again. When his brain realizes you don't want to hurt him and it's safe to be around you, he starts craving more contact. He's too prideful to ask, but he's not good at hiding it, either.

He loves any kind of compliment, don't get him wrong, but the ones that have nothing to do with his appearance seem to stick more. He's heard every single little praise possible for his face and body — but for his personality? For his mannerisms? If it ever happened before, he can't remember it.

Insists he doesn't like cuddling and only does it because you want to. But the one night you didn't, you woke up to him clinging to you anyway. He said he must've done so in his sleep, completely ignoring the fact elves can't sleep. Deception: critical failure.

Surprisingly protective. If you get hurt during a fight he goes ham on the enemy while yelling for someone else to take care of your wounds right now. He lost everything he had after Cazador — lost even himself to the hands of that sick, wicked man. He can't afford to lose you too.

The relationship started with him trying to manipulate you, sure, but that's not the case anymore. He cares. He genuinely cares for something other than himself for the first time in two centuries, and he's scared you still think you're being tricked by his charms. Again, he's too prideful for constant displays of affection, but he does say "I love you" more often than ever. Maybe if he says it enough times, you'll believe it.

He stares a lot. There's just something so endearing about seeing you in your own little world, oblivious to everything else, or at least oblivious to his gawking. It's the most honest part of you, the most yourself you could be, and he enjoys it from afar.

🌿┊GALE

So needy. You leave him at camp for a few hours and you come back to him acting like he needs to be sent to the seaside for his health. A year of living as a hermit does things to a man's necessities for attention.

Loves your scent. He doesn't share his clothes with anyone (that fabric is expensive, dammit), but he insists you wear them so that they smell like you later.

Despite being a cat owner, he's very dog-coded. Will do things with the sole purpose of receiving praise or kisses from you and gets extremely pouty when he doesn't.

Speaking of kisses, he takes any excuse conceivable to kiss you. Good morning, good night and good luck kisses are very much mandatory. Doesn't even have to be on his lips, he's more than satisfied with a cheek or forehead kiss as well.

He enjoys being taken care of, even if he complains. When you scold him for not sleeping over some ancient tome, he can't help but feel loved. Will return the favour, of course — especially if it comes to food. He's very insistent with the "three meals a day" thing.

Will read to you, there's no way around it. It's relaxing for both of you, so he doesn't see why he shouldn't. He also says he can pay attention better to the text when he says it out loud, anyway. You having your head on his lap as he does it is merely a bonus.

🌿┊WYLL

If this man has any flaw, it's that he's always trying to make every moment you spend together perfect and forgets to just lay back and enjoy himself. Even then, he only does it because of how much he loves you.

The last romantic! Goes all out with dates and gifts — fancy restaurants and the biggest bouquets you've ever seen. Money is no object when it comes to you. Truly a good old-fashioned lover boy.

Definitely has a saviour complex — the type to say "I can fix them" unironically. He just loved you and wants you to be okay, and if he has to drag you there himself he will.

Will go on rants about how smitten he is with you and how perfect you are on a daily basis. If you have to leave for the day, he'll write it as a love letter instead.

Always holding you close, but there's no possessiveness to it. It's a display of affection, not ownership. He's yours as much as you are his.

Loves taking showers together. Not for any sexual reason (though he wouldn't complain if things ended up going down that path), he just finds it incredibly intimate and genuinely enjoys washing your hair for you.

You're not just another romance to him — you're the love of his life, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, if the gods allow it.

🌿┊HALSIN

Despite the whole "Desire flourishes wherever it finds purchase" thing, he genuinely doesn't see himself falling for anyone else as he did for you. It's nice to know he could still indulge if he wanted, but for now, he doesn't.

Loves having his hair played with. There's just something so soothing about it. Or maybe it's his wild shape talking, asking for pets. We'll never know.

Always finds an excuse for you to sit on his lap. Again, not for sexual reasons, he just likes wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head or shoulder.

Even though he isn't one for commitment, he has a constant, extremely severe case of baby fever. He obviously wouldn't push you if you're not ready, but he does make his sentiments on the matter known.

Stepping dangerously close to smut territory with this one, but he loves how small you are compared to him. The way he engulfs you entirely when he hugs you or how your hand disappears under his as he holds it — it's endearing to him.

I cannot go without mentioning how good his hugs are. Like, seriously. He's so warm and gentle but still strong and it makes you feel safe. It's the best thing in Faerun.

Loves how you look like wearing his clothes. It ties into the size difference thing, since they just look huge on you. Also, much like Gale, he has a thing for your scent, so there's really no downsides.

[withahappyrefrain]

Just a Game

You and Peter like to play a game. It requires no trivia or plastic pieces. Just two people and feigned innocence.

Warnings: CNC (which has been discussed explicitly) unprotected sex, language, minor breeding kink at the very end

You and Peter like to play a game. 

It's not a board game, though you two enjoy those from time to time. Not a video game, though Peter has expressed interest. 

This game doesn't require any trivia knowledge or plastic pieces. No one has to keep track of points. There isn't a timer. 

All this game requires is a surface and your two bodies. 

Sometimes it was a couch, when you two were in the middle of watching a movie. Other times it could be your kitchen counter, dinner be damned. Rarely, it would be the back of a car, which was your favorite. Peter’s favorite-against a wall- depended on when and where. 

Today the surface was your shared bed. 

It started innocently, like it always does. Peter found you curled up in bed, reading. He hadn’t considered playing today. But then he saw you, wearing only one of his hoodies and those pastel yellow panties that drove him wild. 

It didn’t help that Peter could smell you. Though the cover of your book didn't look out of the ordinary, your arousal revealed the true nature of your reading choice. 

“What’cha reading ladybug?” He asked, curling up to you. 

You put on an innocent smile, keeping the book to your chest, “Oh nothing. Just one of those silly romance books.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Silly? Let me see.” 

Before you could squeak out an objection, Peter snatched the book away, his eyes scanning the page you were on. 

“He pushed her dress up to her hips, revealing her wet core. He dove in, lapping up her arousal like a starved man, his mouth quickly attaching itself to her clit.”

Sometimes you got so caught up in playing your role. Peter had said much dirtier things to you and yet there you were, head in your hands and a warm flush coursing through your body. 

Peter placed the book on your nightstand before bringing your hands away from your face. 

“Oh baby. You’re too sweet to be reading something like that. Why don’t we cuddle instead?”

With his brown puppy dog eyes and sweet smile, he actually sounded genuine. For a moment, you thought he wasn’t inviting you to play. Not when he had his head in your lap, practically purring as your fingernails gently scratched his scalp. 

But then his long, nimble fingers made their way under the blanket, grazing against your bare skin, drawing shapes along your thighs as he made his way up your body.

“Peter.” His name was said in a sweet, sing-song voice, “Thought you wanted to cuddle.”

He sat up, pulling you closer, “I do bug.” Peter's other hand was now underneath your shirt, creeping up to your chest.. 

“Peter,” you could barely breathe, too enthralled with how good his fingers felt kneading your breasts, “This isn’t cuddling.” 

“I know,” He sighed, as if he felt some guilt about what he was doing, “But doesn’t it feel good bug?”

You could only nod, breath hitching up when one of his large hands began to toy with the elastic waistband of your panties. 

The foreplay was fun, but it wasn't the main focus of the game. 

That didn't come until you were underneath him, completely bare and withering as his hard cock slid between your soaked folds. It was a battle, fighting the urge to jerk your hips up, potentially catching him. 

“Peter, w-we shouldn't,” your voice was shaky as you tried to come across as worried rather than in a pleasure laced haze.

“I know. We shouldn’t.” He's panting. Peter's lips ghosted over your bare skin, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. 

In this game, your birth control and five year relationship didn't exist. 

No. In this game you were wide-eyed and innocent. In this game, both your heads were clouded with lust, longing threatening to overtake common sense. 

“Maybe,” His voice is soft, addictive. “Maybe I-we-just the tip?” 

You throw your head back when the head of his cock makes contact with your clit. Desire racked through your body, fingers creating crescent shaped marks along his back as you searched for something, anything to ground you amidst the pleasure haze that was clouding your judgment. 

Part of you wanted to break character so he would fuck you sooner. 

But where was the fun in that?

“But we-fuck- we don’t have a condom?” A box of condoms was currently stashed away in your nightstand. You had been on birth control for years. There was no concern.

Again, not in this game. 

With your wide, doe-like eyes, sweet voice, and withering body, Peter was truly surprised he hadn’t come already. 

But where was the fun in that? That didn’t allow him to play, to take off the friendly neighborhood hero mask and act out his deepest desires. 

His head dropped down to your chest, his thin pink lips quickly latching on to one of your breasts. Your back arched in pleasure, hands grabbing Peter’s soft chestnut locks upon feeling the scrape of his teeth. His hips continue to thrust forward, reminding you of what was within reach. 

“I know, forgot to bring some. It would just-just be the tip,” He sounds like he just ran a marathon. You’re so warm and wet. Everytime the plush head of his cock nudges against your clit, he can feel your walls clenching, trying to catch him, enticing him in. 

“Peter,” the way you moan his name is sweeter than any song he’s heard, “We-no. Peter, don’t.”

He’s already grabbed the backs of your thighs, hitching them up to your chest. Now he has the picture view of his cock sliding through your slicked folds. You have the prettiest cunt Peter’s ever seen and God, does he want to use it.

Your hips twitch as he nudges his cock towards your all too welcoming entrance, entranced by how your walls eagerly suck him in. Eyes roll to the back of your head upon feeling the head of his cock begin to stretch you, nearly forgetting your role in all this. 

“W-wait!” You try to prop yourself up, try to jerk your hips away. 

But Peter is stronger. It drives you crazy, his strength. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the mattress. 

“It’s okay bug. Just the tip, remember?” The ambered irises are blown out with lust. Combined with the downright wicked smirk adorning his handsome face, he looks more devilish than heroic. 

It thrills you. No one else sees this side of him, only you. Only you does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in these desires. 

For a few moments, it's only the tip, sliding in and out of your tight walls. 

Sometimes he’ll dive right in, other times he'll drag it out, as if Peter is truly at war with his morals when it comes to your sweet cunt. 

“Just….just the tip,” he whispers, as though he’s trying to convince himself, trying to convince you. 

The outcome is clear, but you still nod your head. “Just the tip,” you agree. 

“So…fucking tight,” He watches where you two connect in awe, lips parted, “So warm. God…feel fuckin’ incredible.” 

The praise leaves goosebumps on your skin, almost distracting enough to not notice that Peter has been slowly pushing his cock in more and more with each passing moment. Your body betrays you, hips jerking upwards in a desperate, near pathetic attempt to get more of his cock. 

Sometimes the game is hard to keep up with. There have been times where you both forfeit, craving each other far too much to continue. 

If Peter noticed you breaking character, he didn’t acknowledge it. He’s too mesmerized by the way your cunt eagerly welcomes him. 

“Fuck, baby, m’sorry, it’s-you feel s’good.” His speech is slurred, drunk off your body. Before you can react, he thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. 

Finally. 

“Pete-no! We can’t!” You plead, despite your body enthusiastically welcoming the intrusion, “You said-ah! You said the-the tip!”

His cock twitches at your words, at the feigned concern in your voice. His lips ghost over your face, hips increasing the speed of their thrusts. 

“I know, I know,” it’s almost convincing, that he truly feels bad for this, for giving in to lust. As if neither of you wanted it. 

He picks up his pace, shushing your fake protests. His cock feels incredible, so full. No matter how much prep beforehand, the sheer size of Peter is still an adjustment. 

“You'll- you’ll pull out, right?” You gasp, eyes meeting his. 

“‘Course bug,” He chuckles. 

He won't. But it's the false promises that keep you going.

“As-ah- as long as you pull out, it's okay, right?” You're committed to the role of the naive girlfriend, Peter will give you that. The concern in your eyes is incredibly convincing. 

Sometimes he's so caught up in the euphoria of you that he forgets to play along. All he has to do is look you in the eyes to remember his role. 

“Yeah, it's okay. God, feels incredible. Your pussy.” He hitched your legs further up until they were nearly resting on his shoulders. The change in angle allowed him to thrust deeper, reaching the spot that made you see stars. 

Bliss quickly overcame you, causing you to focus less on the game and more on the coil that was currently winding up in the pit of your stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“God, you're clenching me. Can barely pull out.” His pressed his lips against yours, capturing them in a messy kiss. 

You shake your head, “Y-you should. Peter!”

But Peter continues, relishing in how tight you're gripping him. It's addictive. 

“Everytime I try to pull out, your little cunt sucks me back in. Think she wants me to stay.” His words elicit a downright desperate whimper from you. 

“How’s this? I'll stay ‘till ya cum.” His composure was incredible, his voice so soft you almost believed him. 

Almost. 

Weakly, you nodded as Peter’s perfidious promise promptly pershing into the periphery of your mind. Who could express you to focus, when his nimble fingers were toying with your clit? 

Your pleas to stop fade away, occasionally a feeble no falling from your lips. His massive hands were all over you, kneading at your soft skin, sure to leave bruises. 

It's one of the best things to Peter, waking up and admiring the work he did on your body from the night before. 

But for now, he could enjoy another favorite-you. It was cute, nearly adorable how your legs shook, your hips jerking upwards, desperate to get more despite already being full of him. The pathetic whimpers that fell from your lips, unable to form anything coherent. With each thrust, your breasts bounced against your chest. 

It was picturesque. Peter wished he could grab his camera to immortalize this moment, but that would break the illusion. 

So instead, his fingers skim your soft skin, tracing over your plush curves, downward until he reaches his desired location. 

After all, he promised he'd pull out once you cum. So why not help? 

His fingers on your clit felt like lightning, sending a crack of electricity up your spine. It's euphoric, you can't even bother to play along, hands gripping the strands of his hair tightly as the bedroom is quickly filled with your moans. 

When you finally get pushed over the pleasurable edge, it’s loud. There are no whines or pleads for Peter to pull out. Only raucous moans that fill the bedroom, combining with the erotic sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

“Shit, feel s’good. S’fuckin tight,” He pants, “Babe-baby. You feel s’good. Don’t know if I can pull out.”

His words jolt you out of the lavender haze, reminding you of the part you were still playing. 

“N-No. You can’t!” 

Peter nods his head, though he’s not agree with you, “M’sorry,feel s’good.”

You try to sit up, to put up a fight. But just as you do, you’re pushed back down, your hands above your head, enclasped with Peter’s. His body covers you like a warm weighted blanket, the kind where it’s so soft and deceptively confining, you can’t get up even if you wanted to. The spicy scent of cinnamon that always lingers on his body floods your nostrils, his mouth swallowing your pleas to stop as his hips erratically slam into yours. 

It was blissful. You were enraptured by Peter, by his body, roleplay be damned. Your legs wrapped themselves around his lithe waist, pulling him closer. 

Peter reaching his own high triggers yours again, walls clamping tightly down on his cock as he floods you with his warm. 

“Baby, m’s’sorry, feels too good,” it's then you register he's still rutting his hips against yours. 

Well this is a new move. Usually the game ended at this point. 

The chance to prolong, to try something new was thrilling. 

So you shook your head. “Peter!” Your moan contained more desire than it did distress, “N-no, you need-oh- pull out!” 

But Peter just grunts. It's so animalistic, your thighs clench at the sound. His refractory period was much shorter than anyone else you had been with, no doubt thanks to a radioactive spider bite. 

Now sensitivity is surging through your body, pain and pleasure mixing together. He's hitting the spot that makes you see stars, the spot you didn't think existed until you met Peter. 

It's getting harder to stay in character. But as long as Peter is trying, so will you. 

“Y-you promised you'd pull out!” 

“I know,” he groans in your ear, “Shouldn't have such a fucking tight cunt then. Don't know how ya expect me to pull out.” 

His teeth sink down into your throat, earning a sharp gasp. 

“God, your cunt,” the scruff of his beard scratches against your skin, “Think you want me to cum in ya again.” 

You shook your head, “No! Please!” Fingers claw at his strong back to no avail. He continues with his harsh thrusts, paying no attention to how your mixed arousal was leaking onto the sheets. 

“No- stop!” But that wasn't your safe word. 

He could tell you were already close, your moans increasing in pitch, how your walls were clinging to his cock. 

You just needed a little help getting there. 

“Gonna cum in ya again. It might just take this time. Is that what you want? For me to fuck a baby in ya?” 

The illusion of your feigned innocence shatters, his words igniting a flame in you that can't be fanned out. 

You're now wailing, nodding enthusiastically at Peter's words. Fingers which were once clawing at him now grip his shoulders. Instead of jerking away, your hips move upwards. 

“Y-yes! Want it to take s’bad! Please fill me up!” 

Your voice was nearly unrecognizable; whiny and desperate. It only spurs him on, his cock thrusting into you at a near bruising pace. 

Peter's next high is with your’s, hips stuttering as he fills you once more. He knows he could go again, but everyone needs a break, an intermission before the next act. 

The next few moments, you two are speechless. The only audible sounds are that of heavy breathing and the overhead ceiling fan.

“Well, that was fun,” you chuckled, running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair. 

Peter finally made eye contact with you. His eyes are dark, almost black with lust. The grin on his face is downright wolfish. 

“Oh sweetheart, I'm far from done with you.” 

You were in for a long night. 

[mascdestr0yer]

Late nights

KK Arnold x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, the reader being a bit of a crybaby(me), A bit of angst

Synopsis: you miss your girlfriend terribly, like tremendously, since she's gone for a week for an away game. You decided to FaceTime her, only making it worse, missing her more.

You rolled in bed, head pounding from the crying you did prior, you unplugged your phone from your nightstand and quickly FaceTime'd your girlfriend, hoping she was still awake.

"what are you still doing up, mama? it's like--1:00 in the morning out there?" Her head against the headboard and her face scrunched up in confusion. You didn't know if you should lie or tell her the truth, she would probably give a lecture about how sleeping is important no matter how much you take naps during the day.

"I couldn't sleep," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as they were red and puffy from your breakdown, one because your girlfriend was gone and two you started your period, the cramps were not making the situation any better.

She stayed silent for a bit, then she spoke up, " have you been crying?" Squinting her eyes, bringing the phone super close to her face. Making the only thing you can see being her eyes. It was your turn to stay quiet, hoping she would let it go, knowing kk she's going keep up bugging you. "I could hangup on you right now, stop playing with me and answer my question," her voice laced with irritation

You felt your heart drop as she threatened to hang up on you, "it was just a little bit.." you lied, moving the camera out of your face.

She scoffed,"keep lying to me little girl and see what happens, like I'm supposed to believe you didn't cry that much."

"I just missed you," your voice getting shaky as your vision blurry. You mentally cursed yourself out and your period, it shouldn't be making you this emotional.

"I know, just one more day and then we'll be reunited." Her expression softens and so does her voice. "Promise me you'll get some rest, alright?"

You nodded, not wanting to say goodbye just yet. "Can we stay on call, a little longer? Please.."

"of course,"

I'm sorry it's short, and kinda trashy

Mb y'all, it's gonna get better trust

[malaierba]

I kinda do believe that Toshiro IS afraid of being head of his household.

He's barely made any decisions of his own his whole life. Only time he did was to save someone he cared about. He's too used to the comfort of obedience, I think he believes it absolves him of participating in the activities of a household that does things in a way he disagrees with.

What kind of things you ask? Mainly how those bound to it are treated, I think:

He's angry at Maizuru when he learns about the flying hag that chased him as a kid being her doing.

He let's Izutsumi/Asebi go. There's two translations going around of the scene where Maizuru informs him that she's missing. I've seen bilingual Japanese users on twitter say that the one where he goes "She'll find her way back if she wants to" is more appropriate, it carries the intention of him letting her go. Saying "just leave her" is probably what a native English speaker assumed to be the more straightforward intention.

When he tells Laios about how Tade was probably in a very bad situation because she saw his dad (who he doesn't respect at all) as a saviour he says "I wanna speak to her". He doesn't because, passivity man, but, I get the feeling he wanted to tell her "he's still not a good person, Tade". I get the feeling he'd allow her to leave after Izutsumi if they were ever in a situation where he can actually be the decision maker.

He apologises to his party for dragging them down to confront the Faligon. Remember how that was all of those guyses first death in a dungeon? I've said this but. Man saw them get wipped. Childhood friend AND mom figure died in front of his eyes, and I know that's normal in a dungeon, but jeez. His mom-adjacent figure. His "MOM". idk I'd be messed up, unrelated but I think Laios is definitely suppressing how much it affected him to see Falin be eaten, be turned, be stabbed, etc etc. He's definitely an "I'll focus on problem solving to avoid looking at my emotions" type of guy.

During the fight he asks Laios "what about me is strong?". If you'll remember, Laios said that in the original party, Toshiro was in charge of finding an opening and dealing the killing blows. I wonder if he felt burdened, responsible for their failure then?

If he takes failure that hard when he's just following orders, I can see him feeling anxious about the prospect of failure when he's the one issuing them. It's probably why he comes across as so half-hearted with the whole "earn the right to be the next Head of the Clan" thing.

Not to mention, I remember seeing someone on X say, "the big gap between Toshiro and his baby brothers (13 years) is probably because Toshitsugu originally just wanted one (1) heir out of his arranged marriage to Toshiro's mom, since he actually loved Maizuru. But then he decided that Toshiro wasn't made of whatever was necessary to be a leader of their shady ass clan, so he had another two kids as backup".

If Toshiro is aware of that, fuck man, what kind of confidence is he going to have 😵

But, it's also a shame, right? Because he's explicitly empathetic. I think that's the meaning of him being shown playing with bugs as a kid, being coded as kind of softhearted. He empathises with things/beings he "shouldn't". But he's also obedient, he's always masking, so he has a hard time showing it explicitly. Honestly, the fact that he has that discussion about Tade with Laios is impressive imo, he trusts him and feels more comfortable with him than he lets on. He should NOT say the same thing to Maizuru or Hien, even though he respects them and cares for them.

If he had a bit of a spine, he'd be good for the people in the household. Probably bizarre in a way that even his dad can't predict, and maybe wouldn't like (he likes weirdos but only when it means chaos and fun it seems?). Maybe there'd be infighting. He just doesn't agree with the way his dad does too many things.

On the other hand, I also kinda think he should just take Tade and fuck off back to Melini lol. Become a bodyguard for Laios, help a bit with politics. What's for him in Wa anyway? An Estranged family and friends he doesn't fit with anymore. I think he'd be more likely to feel homesick for his friends in Melini than the Nakamoto household.

In any case I hope that Falin encouraging him to be more of an active participant of his own life has an everlasting effect on him. Even if he's afraid of shouldering that responsibility.

[alchemistc]

Thinking thoughts about Gerrard deciding, day one, that Diaz is his only ally amidst this group of degenerates. Diaz, with his dead wife and his disabled kid, close enough to be white passing if he ignores the Spanish phrases always coming out in between his sentences.

Eddie, who has Too Much going on to really notice the preferential treatment until he's having drinks with Tommy and Buck and Buck is just railing about what a fucking douche Gerrard is being, and what he'd say if his job wasn't on the line, and how Gerrard seems to have an extra squirrelly bug up his ass about Buck in particular because he's really the only member of the group that actually fits Gerrard's typical bill.

("Except, you know, the part where I really enjoy having a dick up my ass, like that's a personal choice I made just to piss him off, specifically."

"Well I sure hope not," Tommy says, cheesing when Eddie makes a face at the both of them.)

In the face of this realization, Eddie decides he's already torpedoed literally his entire life, so what's a little disrespect to his Captain gonna do?

Eddie responding to every order from Gerrard with an obtuse "Si senor, claro." Eddie listening to Gerrard's commands and then immediately turning to Hen or Chimney with a raised brow like "Sound right to you?" and just waiting there until he gets a head nod from one of them.

Eddie gentle-parenting his way through every homophobic, racist, misogynistic remark that comes out of Gerrard's mouth. "Oh, the preferred term is transgender, Cap." "Actually, Cap, that's a term that's been reclaimed by the community but I'm pretty sure you're not in the community so you shouldn't say that." "Well, Cap, I think you'll be very lucky if she doesn't file a complaint -- were you not around for the whole #metoo moment we had half a decade back?" "They/Them is actually really easy, we use it all the time without realizing it, like, remember when [...]" etc etc.

Clipboard!Buck doesn't get him. Out and proud Hen doesn't get him. "I will talk back I don't care how many times you write me up" Chimney doesn't get him. Ravi constantly serving him the biggest, burntest piece of casserole every time they eat doesn't get him.

Eddie "Baby Runs For President" Diaz is what ultimately does Gerrard in.

[mytheoristavenue]

Mean!Tokoyami x Sweet!Reader where he knows you like him and just does not care. You go out of his way to pack him lunch, take notes for him when he misses class for his work study, ask him how his day is and he goes out if his way to tell you he's not your friend and to stop.

"I'm not your little boyfriend," he scolds, neck hot from having to look into your sparkly doe eyes. "I don't need you fawning over me, got it?"

Finally, after being shot down so many times, you decide to let sleeping dogs lie and he notices immediately. Since your first day at UA, you've followed him around like a lovesick puppy and now? You just walk right past him. You don't even ask him how his morning was, how he slept, if he at breakfast.

"What gives?" He grumbles coming to walk beside you.

"What do you mean, Tokoyami?" You tilt your head to him, totally neutral to his presence.

He stops in his tracks before shaking is head and catching back up. You've never called him by his last name. It's always been something irritatingly friendly like 'Fumi', 'Toko', or 'Yami'. "Since when do you call me that?"

"Call you what? Tokoyami?" You blink, clueless.

"Don't play dumb," he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. "You always call me by a nickname."

"Why would I do that?" You continue, aloof. "It's like you said, we aren't dating. We aren't even friends, it's not appropriate for me to be giving you nicknames like we are."

"We're friends..." he mutters, stare fixed to the floor. "Nevermind that, what's been up with you lately?"

"I don't see what you mean." You continue, hardly paying him mind at this point.

"Oh stop," he huffs, exhausted with your charade. "You used to fawn all over me, now it's like you don't even see me."

"You told me to stop and I did." You answer matter of factly, stepping into the elevator.

"Yeah, I've told you that like everyday for the better part of three years, why is it just now sticking?" He rolls his eyes, holding the doors open before stepping in.

"Why are you upset?" You respond with a question, adjusting how your books sit in your arms.

"I'm not."

"Then why does it matter?" You ask, finally looking at him in earnest. "Tokoyami, I never had some silly infatuation with you, I had real feelings for you. I put so much effort into trying to prove that to you and you ever so much as tried to give me a chance. You didn't even let me down easy. Why shouldn't I move on with my life?"

Tokoyami had never considered how your back and forth affected you. He'd always assumed you'd be obsessed with him forever. "You don't like me anymore?"

"I didn't say that," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "It'll take a while to get over it but-"

"D-Don't get over it." He interrupts, looking away bashfully and rubbing the back of his neck. "O-Over me, I mean..."

You narrow your eyes, fury bubbling in your stomach. "You've got some nerve-"

"I've always liked you." He finally confesses with a heavy sigh. "I-I've been offstandish because it was hard for me to accept that you had actual feelings for me..." To your dismay, all your anger suddenly melts away. You're heart just can't help but soar. "At first, it bugged me how you were always by my side, confessing and going out of your way for me at every turn but...somewhere along we way I grew to like the attention." He looked back up at you, offering a hand. "And...it really bothered me when you suddenly stopped."

Hesitantly, you take his hand. "Don't think I'm not still frustrated with you," you warn with a glare.

"I know," he confirms with a sheepish nod, thumb brushing your knuckles gently. "But I wanna start making up for it," he flashes you a smile, vermillion eyes searching for validation. "Would you let me take you out this weekend?"

"Oh, Fumi..." you gasp, giggling with delight. His eyes widen with hope when you call him by a nickname. Suddenly you deadpan. "No."

Panic flashes across his face, only strengthened by your fit of laughter. "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist!" You snicker. "Of course I'll go out with you."

"Oh fuck off," he shakes his head, fed up with your antics as the elevator stops and he steps out. "Saturday, be ready by six or I'm going without you."