#bc i’m self indulgent

[crosshairlovebot]

there is just not enough crosshair fluff on here!!!! i’m going to take matters into my own hands!!!!

[pdalicedraws]

I’m sure 500 people have done this but I wanted to have a go too. Initial->eventual reactions to doppelgängers…

Bonuses:

EDIT TO ADD: I'm apparently doing a whole comic thing of this now, check it out :)

[crystallizsch]

(inspired by the midnight cooking chapter in the twst anthology manga and also jamil's dorm uniform and master chef voice lines)

(this is also a lil extended sequel to this post i made :3)

[zorosdimples]

WHEREVER YOU ARE

pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader

warnings ༄ brief descriptions of violence. a little angsty at first but it’s fluff i pinky promise!

word count ༄ 796

notes ༄ i’ve been feeling so deeply about zoro lately—i cried over him a few nights ago. this is embarrassingly soggy; i poured my heart out for him. tagging my dearest ai @gojoest <3

home.

a soft breeze carries the word, a gentle whisper that ruffles zoro’s hair and curls over the shell of his ear, fading once the message rests uncomfortably on his tongue. the sea shimmers under the moon’s loving gaze, the lulling lap of waves the only sound that reaches the starlit deck. he should be chilly in the crisp salt air, but as he glances down at you—wrapped in his protective embrace, head resting against his bare chest and the steady beat of his heart—he realizes that he has never felt warmer.

home is a word that has never meant much to the swordsman.

from an orphanage to the dojo to the furthest reaches of the east blue, zoro was born a wanderer, cursed to roam land and sea with little more than three swords and a fierce dream. hunting humans and exchanging souls for bounties that could barely cover a warm meal, a glass of sake, and a dirty bed—it was a monastic existence, devoid of comfort and pleasure. but that’s the price you pay when you make a deal with the devil. greatness isn’t bestowed upon the righteous; greatness is something you must fight for with steel claws and blood in your maw. may the most vicious creature win.

home is make-believe for a demon. it’s a tale told to frightened children who don’t yet understand the cruelty of the world.

joining luffy did not cure zoro’s restlessness. it did not make him a better man—it only redirected his cruelty. the piles of flesh and bone he left in his wake loomed over him still; he trudged through a sticky stream of ichor in his nightmares. destruction in the name of something is destruction all the same. he could feel the shackles of solitude slipping, but he was (and still is) set in his ways. it’s difficult to unlearn that which you believe yourself to be. a lifetime of isolation bred a bone-deep loneliness that he couldn’t bleed out of his chest or escape when he cracked open his rib cage and welcomed eternal darkness.

home is a luxury a man—a monster—like him does not deserve.

you draw zoro from his thoughts as you shift in his lap to face him, wrapping your legs around his waist, smoothing your palms across the strong planes of his stomach. your delicate caresses dance upwards, an act of reverence as you trace over the story of his life.

puckered scars, rippling striae, dappled moles, smattered freckles; these etchings on his tanned flesh tell of his victories and mistakes and birthrights. when you reach his broad shoulders, one hand darts up to rake through his mint green strands, fingernails grazing his scalp in a way that has him chasing your touch. your other hand tinkles his earrings, the golden chimes playing their hymn as they reflect the glimmering moonlight.

zoro’s lone eye is enraptured with your movements, and when your sweet gaze meets his, you press a featherlight kiss to his unsuspecting lips. “what was that for?” he asks with a rumbling chuckle. his hands—rough, capable of atrocities—unconsciously rub up and down your sides with worshipful tenderness.

“i love you,” you confess airily with a smile, as though those aren’t the most devastating words the swordsman has ever heard.

if zoro wasn’t a selfish man he would weep at your words. he would tell you to find someone better, he would show you the mortal weight of his sins, and he would keep his distance from a soul as radiant and kind as yours. but decades of want have conditioned him to be greedy.

hearing that phrase—though zoro has heard it from your lips hundreds of times—has a grin rivaling the brightness of the moon split his sharp features. cradling his face, you stroke his dimples with your thumbs. his hands settle on your waist and tug you toward him, your bodies pressed together like hands in a prayer. he crooks his head so your mouths are a mere breath apart.

“i love you, too,” he murmurs before claiming your parted lips with his own.

zoro still has little more than three swords and a fierce dream. but he also has three warm meals a day, more glasses of sake than he could ever want, and a clean bed to crawl into at night. he’s no longer an orphan; with the straw hats there is friendship and laughter and adventure. if asked, he will insist that he’s not a good man, that he’s a demon. but he’s fiercely loyal to his family—he will cut down anyone that stands in their way to freedom.

and then there’s you. with you, zoro has a love he has never felt before. as far as he’s concerned?

wherever you are is home.

[saetoru]

i think the first time you really realize alhaitham’s in love with you is when you see how he inconveniences himself just for your sake. it’s subtle, you don’t even notice it until one day it all hits you at once.

“you…got these on your way home?” you ask, taking the bag he holds out. you didn’t even think he was listening last night when you said you’d like to try that new bakery off handedly. evidently he was.

and he stares at you with that aggravatingly blank face of his. “yes.” it’s all he says, all he chooses to offer even when you leave all the unsaid questions in the air.

“but that’s not on the way home,” you say confused.

“it is, if you take a different route.”

“and you took a different route?”

“yes.”

“you took what would be a slightly longer route?” you raise a brow.

“yes.” and then he walks off to change, dropping the discussion all together.

you stare at the bag in your hands, at the small token of proof that he listens, that he cares. and then it hits you, all at once it hits you. those extra pillows he spends time rearranging when he makes the bed because you insist they’re nice and you need them. the papers he gives you at the akademiya already sifted through and sorted in order for you to sign. the late lunch he takes just to have yours with you. those fifteen minutes of sleep he sacrifices to shower first so you can stay in bed a bit longer. that table he hates and always bumps his hips into that you love in the living room.

and that longer route he takes on his way home to get you something you like.

it’s all so inconvenient. it’s a lot more trouble than he likes. it’s inefficient and over complicated and probably is an obstacle to his usually simple life.

“i didn’t know you were listening,” you mumble, “i thought you were asleep.”

“well, it’s difficult to sleep with all your tossing and turning,” he says simply, making your lips quirk into an easy grin as you roll your eyes.

he turns to walk to your bedroom, and you grab his hand and keep him in place. and then you smile that little smile of yours. lean in and press your lips to his. mumble a quiet thank you, haitham against them before kissing them again. and again. and again, for longer this time.

he loves you. it’s the easiest thing he does.

[ohthewh0rror]

Professor!Tom Riddle comforting you when you’re feeling sick.

Well, his version of comforting, at least. Him letting you lay your head on his lap as his fingers run through your hair. Neither of you talking except the occasional murmur to himself and the scratching of his quill on parchment. You should feel like a glorified pet, sprawled in its masters lap, desperate for attention and relief from your illness. But you’re too sick to feel such a way, the feeling of his fingers lightly grazing your scalp sends a tingle down your spine and you can feel yourself curl into him more. Your eyes drift close as you struggle to keep them open, the potion you had taken combined with the tender touch from your lover leaves you sleepy.

Finally, he looks away from his work and down at you, you swear you see a light in his eyes as he tells you, “sleep, it will help you feel better.” So, with Tom’s blessing, you let sleep come over you. Your mind drifting off to a peaceful slumber where you dream of your lover.

[saintobio]

♱ as you like it | sneak peak.

[dare i share one of my favorite lines on this oneshot :’) yes, only a oneshot you guys. it’s a pretty long one, but sy is still the only on-going series i have.]

Your heart, once brimming with devotion, now lay shattered at your feet. All your life, you have loved him. All your happiness and tears, you have devoted to him. You had stood by his side through every trial, every conquest, only to be deemed unworthy of bearing his legacy. The sting of rejection seared your soul, igniting a fierce resolve within your wounded spirit.

With a voice trembling through a mixture of sorrow and defiance, you met his gaze. “Fair enough,” you whispered, your tone laden with a sorrowful resignation. “If it is a concubine thou seek, then so be it. But a divorce, will I not honor. And know this, my lord,” you declared, your voice rising with a newfound strength, “I am the Empress. The only one. There is none within this empire akin to me, for a worthless, lowly concubine shalt not depose this Empress Y/N of Caleum thou wouldst so readily compromise.”

And in that solemn proclamation, you turned away, your stolid mien masking the shattered pieces of your fractured heart.

His countenance remained stoic as he observed your departure, sighing inwardly as you exited his study. Although no longer offering a response, Satoru found himself unable to deny the truth of your words. Nor the power in which you presented them. Your presence lingered in his thoughts, holding sway over him in a manner he could not fathom.

[m1d-45]

You know, I've been thinking. The stars in our world often look quite dim, especially in areas where there is light pollution. Suddenly, I'm imagining that in the Imposter!AU, the Creator looks at the stars at night, captivated by their brilliance. Perhaps Scaramouche or Mona (Whichever you prefer, you may also just write another character you think fits this scenario :D) find them. The Creator looks at them, then back at the stars.

"They're very lovely, you know? The stars never shine this brightly back home. It's a lovely sight..."

They smile. "I'm happy that I'm able to see them, even if it's in another world. I appreciate you letting me look at them before I die."

Perhaps the character takes pause... And sits next to them.

It's a lovely night.

in the stars

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: violence, blood, both of those in your future so technically you’re not hurt yet, not written for mona mains, sorry, didn’t work with the plot :/ also diona/klee/qiqi/nahida/sayu mains are on thin ice with this one. questionable plot. barely edited.

-> lowercase intended

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

< masterlist >

the stars never lie.

mona clutches her catalyst to her chest, wide eyes turned to the sky. she whispers to them, hoping they’ll change, shift into something she’ll understand, anything.

they don’t.

her head lowers, inspecting the book. thrilling tales, the spine reads, the cover a simplified dragon with a sword through it. she tries to read into it, to try and pick apart the motives behind the weapon, but all it returns is a simple needlepoint.

a compass. one she’d followed ever since she caved into the pull on her catalyst, one she’d followed out of the city at dusk and into the plains, hiking up starsnatch cliff at its behest. her twin tails had lost some of their curl on the journey, her hat flopping sadly. it was late, later than she’d normally be awake, and she stumbled once on a rock before quickly catching herself, checking to make sure you hadn’t moved.

you, sat at the peak of the cliff. you, surrounded by cecelias, face turned to the stars. you, who turned at her short cry.

“are you alright?”

she couldn’t bring her hands to shift her catalyst into its attack position. her hands, free from their usual gloves, dug into the cover of the book, shaking both with the chill of night and with… she couldn’t tell, couldn’t pin whether it was fear or nervousness, or something else that blurred the line between panic and excitement.

“just fine, thank you.”

her voice was harsher than it should have been. she could tell you were being genuine, the way the water in the air shaped around you like it wanted to cling made that clear enough, the stars shining down on you as if you were the only being on the planet.

the stars never lie. so why were they saying you meant no harm?

you turned back to the stars, your hands shifting back to weave into the grass between the cecelias.

"they’re very lovely tonight. the stars, i mean. they never shine this brightly back home….” against her better judgement, mona glanced up. the sky was particularly clear, constellations shining down unhindered. “it’s a beautiful sight.”

orders from the knights echoed in mona’s head, orders extended from a god she’d never met. she knew the knights wholeheartedly meant what they said, truly believing the words they were told, but you…

hesitantly, she brought her hand in a circle in front of her, scrying for your constellation. you didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, and she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that you didn’t have a vision.. still, there was something strange about the empty space where yours would have been. swapping the sigils and rotating the outer edge, mona decided to read your future.

all the air was sucked from her lungs, the images depicted in the water making her mouth dry. the water warped and bubbled a dark color, as if it itself hated to show what it did.

you were on your knees, tight steel chains wrapped around you and latched onto hooks in whatever you were sitting on. in front of you stood the favored, the creator’s most prized, their weapon drawn. their form was taught with anger, nearly seething. it was strange, so uncharacteristic that it froze the astrologist in place for a moment.

no matter how fiery the disposition, vessels of yours were calmer after being wished upon, heart stiller for being by your side. they, the most prominent on your team of them all, should be at most handling such a severe situation with a tick in their jaw and quiet fury in their eyes, not…

she watched with sick horror as the favored attacks once, your chest caving once, twice with hitched attempts at breathing before you slumped over, blood trickling from your neck. the favored stepped back, weapon dismissed, and mona closed the illusion before it played any further. she hadn’t meant to look all the way to your death, only a few-

…only a few hours.

her hands shake where they’re still clasped in front of her, the remains of her scrying circle swirling in her palms. you didn’t even have a day.

she let the water fall, sending it towards the cecelias around you, willing them to stand brighter as she approached. she couldn’t bring herself to summon her catalyst, not now that she knew what your fate held.

the grass was damp beneath her, seeping slightly into her nightclothes. you didn’t say anything, simply passing her a flower that you had been twirling in your palms. she willed it to heal, restored the color to its petals and the strength to its stem, then passed it back. she had no use for it, not when you…

you chuckled as you took it, staring down at it for a moment before turning skyward once more. mona followed your eyes up, spotting a well known constellation directly above you. nearly perfectly straight up, glowing like a beacon, was the constellation of the favored, six stars making themselves prominent against the dotted sea of night.

“beautiful, isn’t it?”

she swallowed, eyes flicking down to you. you were still watching the stars, probably tracing the shape of the constellation above you. unknowing of what it spelled for your fate, unknowing of the warning written above you.

mona settled into the grass a little more, taking her hat off her head so it wouldn’t fall when she looked up again.

“indeed, it is.”

[mrsensitive]

just fluff

when you get back from work quinn is all but ready to leave for the game tonight.

"hey handsome, you ever going to put on something different?"

he smiles and shakes his head, more than used to your quips about his suits every time he leaves for a game. instead he pulls you in for a kiss, mumbling against your lips, "i got you something."

"hmm it couldn't wait til later?" you tease, knowing he's usually out the door by now, but your joking tone stalls when he hands you a small rectangular box wrapped beautifully in ribbon. "q... what's all this?"

he doesn't answer you, instead stands there with his hands shoved in his pockets and a bashful smile tugging at his lips. you blink at him for a second before realising he's not going to tell you, carefully lifting the lid to find a simple gold necklace with a q pendant laying inside.

"quinn..." you breathe out, staring at it in disbelief.

"you were so upset when you lost your old necklace so i wanted to get you a new-" he pauses, scanning your face when he realises you haven't looked at him yet. "you don't like it?"

your head snaps up and you give him a soft smile. "no, i love it, it's beautiful really, i just-" your eyes flicker back down to the diamond on the tail of the q. your mind is running through all the dinners and dresses and flowers and plane tickets he's bought you and every other time he's refused to let you even reach for your wallet. you gently put the box down on the kitchen counter and let out a small sigh.

"quinn you gotta stop buying me stuff."

he pouts for a second. "but i like spoiling you."

"yeah and i'm incredibly thankful but i don’t need any of this - it’s your money!"

"and you’re my girlfriend!!"

"quinn seriously."

“can’t spent it all on myself y’know…."

"I know but it makes me feel like... like I’m using you or something" you mumble.

quinn pauses, stepping closer to you and brushing the hair out of your face. "but that’s not what it is at all... just makes me feel like I’m making up for all the time I can’t be with you."

you start to protest, "that’s not-" but you're cut off when he buries his head against your shoulder and mumbles something into your skin. "just feel like a bad boyfriend sometimes."

you barely catch it but you do, and you can't help but completely melt into him, your fingers immediately going to run through his hair in comfort.

"q, you're the best boyfriend i could ever ask for," you reassure him, "i just want to be able to spoil you back sometimes."

his arms have snaked their way tightly around your waist and he pulls you into him even closer. "don’t have to. feel spoilt enough just getting to be with you."

you're rolling your eyes but you can't help the soft laugh that escapes you as he presses a kiss to your shoulder before pressing another against your lips. he reaches to grab the necklace when you hold out a palm against his chest.

"you know what you could spend your money on?" he quirks an eyebrow hearing the teasing back in your voice.

you're tugging at his lapel, "some new game day suits." you smirk, turning and moving your hair out of the way. "you know i lost my necklace months ago, so if you can remember that surely you can remember me pestering you to go to a tailor every other week."

it's quinn's turn to roll his eyes but he doesn't say anything to fight back, instead just clasping the necklace and turning you back around to face him. your hands are quick to find their place against his chest again.

"please?" you look up at him but he can't seem to take his eyes off how perfectly the pendant rests against your collarbones and you're hoping the sight is working some magic.

"yeah fine, okay," he mumbles, "next week."

you smile, finally satisfied, fingers toying with chain. "i think you're gonna be late if you don't leave now,” you whisper.

he chuckles, eyes finally finding yours. "wear my jersey to the game?"

"what, the necklace not enough for you?" you're both laughing as you try to push him towards the door but his hands stay firmly on your waist, refusing to make it easy for you.

"good luck kiss before i go?"

you smile, pulling on his tie to cup his face in your hands before dropping a kiss on his mole, his nose and then meeting his lips. you let him kiss you a second and a third time but push him away when he leans in for another.

"don’t blame me if you're late!"

when he's finally gone, you head into your room to get ready - and without even realising you find yourself looking for his jersey in the process.

[parkitaco]

BREAKING: short little self indulgent fluff piece is now 10k and angsty

[articskele]

Picking truffula fruits and baking with the Onceler <3

♡|♡|♡ ♡|♡|♡ ♡|♡|♡

[astrobei]

90s grunge college will is something that can be so personal (inspired by the tags on this post)

self indulgent hc that no one asked for: will visits seattle in the early 90s and gets super into the grunge scene + bands like nirvana/pearl jam/alice in chains + jonathan gives him his old leather jacket and the rest is history

[daisynik7]

okay, but imagine boyfriend!Ino taking you on a date to a baseball game and being his cute golden retriever self. he’d buy you all the concession treats you wanted, like a soft pretzel with cheese sauce for dipping, chicken tendies with fries, and an ice cream sundae with all the fixings. he’d splurge at the team store, getting you matching jerseys and a foam finger. he’d bring his mitt with him like he always does, hoping to catch a foul ball, which has never happened before. but the one time it does, it’s today, when he’s with you.

he kisses you on the cheek, sliding the ball into your hands. you’re his good luck charm and he’s never letting you go.

[softvermillion]

> ˚ ༘ꕥ TENDER IS THE NIGHT

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: levi shares a dorm with you. he’s used to coming home to the sound of you getting fucked. when he comes home to you crying though, he doesn’t quite know how to respond…

cw: smut (minors dni 18+ only!!)

a/n: first post on tumblrrr!!!!! hope u enjoy it…make sure to check out my ao3 @173318 where i’m currently posting a longer levi x reader fic!!!

Every day he came back from the gym to the sound of muffled moans from behind the door of your room. Every day he sat in front of his TV, listening to the lilt of your voice as you chased your high and the bed frame lightly hitting against the wall. He’d gotten used to falling asleep to these things, your cries ringing in his ears as he fought every urge to get off to your sounds.

He knew he would never look at you the same way if he went through with it. So, he practiced as much self restraint as he could muster, even if it meant actively avoiding you most of the time. You didn’t choose to share a dorm with each other. It wasn’t out of the norm for you to share an awkward interaction with each other in the morning as you finally left your room with your boyfriend for breakfast as Levi was going out to his first class. A quick acknowledgment with the nod of a head was about as deep of an interaction as you tended to get.

What was out of the norm was Levi finally returning one night to silence. He frowned at the phenomenon. Sure, he should be happy about this newfound peace in the dorm. Something seemed odd. He found his gut feeling to be correct when he listened a little closer, only to hear the stifled sounds of something else from behind the wall that separated your bedrooms.

Crying. You were crying.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, unable to leave his room and comfort you. He didn’t know you, couldn’t do anything to find out what was wrong.

He ran a hand over his face.

Why did he care?

*

You were used to Levi paying no mind to you when it came to you. The extent of your previous conversations were, as far as you could remember, a short interaction at the start of the year of introductions and name exchanging, followed by a series of grunts, nods, and single words in the following months. You wish you could say it didn’t bother you, but you found yourself desperate to know him a little better. So desperate it was almost embarrassing.

You knew his major. You knew he liked to be alone. You knew he went to the gym. The latter was hard to not know. Not just because he was built like a fucking god - which you discovered once when walking in on him shirtless in the kitchen, which had you gawking at him like he was the eighth wonder of the world, which he definitely noticed - but because you knew exactly what time he came home from the gym every night. And every night you timed it to perfection, because you always heard the door shut right before your boyfriend would bury himself inside of you. You wondered what Levi did when he heard you. Did he listen to music to drown out your noises? Did he touch himself? You doubt he did anything at all. His stoic nature left no room for fantasies and you could not imagine him caring about anything that you did.

So it was definitely shocking to you when you found him leaning on the doorway of your room, a box of tissues in his hand.

“Are you okay?” his voice rang out around your room.

You wiped your face with the back of your hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

He looked at you with raised eyebrows. You paused for a moment.

“…no. I’m not. My boyfriend. He’s been cheating on me.”

Levi couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Cheating on you? He didn’t understand why anyone would.

You might not have been the closest of friends, but that didn’t mean Levi couldn’t see just how attractive you were. It was almost daunting. Even if your interactions weren’t awkward in the first place, he would’ve felt so by how intimidating your looks were. You were pretty in ways he couldn’t comprehend. So to think that you had been cheated on…it seemed blasphemous to him.

“Oh,” was all Levi could muster. When the silence ensued as you continued to wipe your cheeks with your hands, he took the initiative to walk over to your bed, standing next to your curled up frame with the box of tissues extended towards you.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“S’alright,” he replied, “anyone would do it.”

You looked up at him. His face, though reasonably nonchalant, still showed some signs of concern, of empathy. You sighed.

“Do you want to talk about it, maybe?” he suggested.

So you did. You spoke to him about everything that your boyfriend had said, all the shit he’d done to you, all the things you stayed for and why you never should’ve put up with them. He was a good listener. You got along well, and it made you wonder why you hadn’t spoke to him enough. Things maybe could’ve been different.

“I mean, the sex was good.” You shrugged off the sentence. Levi grunted, to which you turned and frowned at him. “What?”

“You made enough noise for me to know that.”

Of course you knew he’d heard you. It was the fact that you’d never openly discussed it that made your skin heat with embarrassment. Levi pressed further.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know I could hear?”

You shook your head a little. “I…well, I knew. I suppose. I didn’t really think about it.”

He laughed a little. “I don’t see any harm in it. Just sounded like you could do a little better, is all.”

“How would you know?” you replied, a newfound sense of confidence in your voice, “You say you heard, but I didn’t know you actively listened.”

It was his turn to feel embarrassed now. You took advantage of the situation, sitting up a little, cocking your head to the side. “Levi, have you listened to me being fucked for…for all these months?”

He looked at you, and despite his lack of words, you could see the guilt dripping from his eyes. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Before you could control what you were doing, you had leaned into his body, and pressed your mouth softly onto his.

He seemed shocked at first, stiff in the wake of you softly brushing against him. When you pulled back, his eyes were still open, full of questions.

“You’ve just got out of a relationship,” he breathed, looking for signs of regret across your face, “I don’t want to take advantage of you like this.”

“Levi…I used to think of you sometimes. I would hear you come in…couldn’t stop my mind from wandering,” you admitted. You weren’t lying either. Getting off meant you needed to think of Levi. Truth be told, you used your boyfriend for the sex. You knew he’d been cheating, cheating for a long time, yet you stayed with him. Why?

Anything to get something from Levi. Any kind of attention. You craved it. You wanted him. This was your last try, breaking up with your boyfriend so you could make one final attmept at getting to Levi. And it worked.

Levi let out a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

You looked at each other. There was a hunger in both of your eyes, something you hadn’t seen before. It was as though he were fighting his better judgement.

He wanted you. He felt guilty for wanting you. But with you sitting in front of him, panting in the heat of just a soft kiss and confession, he couldn’t help himself. His better judgement could get fucked.

“C’mere,” he muttered, one last word before he leaned in and pushed his lips against yours.

The world came crashing down around you when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He was passionate, moving rapidly yet savouring the feeling. His hands moved to your waist, lifting you up as your hands pressed between your chest and his.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered against your cheek, moving his lips down towards your neck.

When he set you down on his lap, the shock was instant. You gasped. If it wasn’t obvious before what effect you had on him, it definitely was now. He was hard underneath you as he pulled back from peppering kisses against your jawline to look in your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he questioned. You could barely get a nod out, your mind blank with arousal as you looked at his hazy expression.

Once he’s confirmed that you want what he wants, he makes no hesitation to dive back into your neck, sucking in just the right places to leave you whimpering in his wake. He reaches down to the hem of your top and you lift your arms up for him to remove it. He takes a moment after, a brief moment to look up at you and gaze unabashedly at just how perfect you are. You look so unaware of it, too. It only makes him want you more.

Before he can do anything else, you push your hips forwards, and the choked sound he makes leave you grinning. His eyes are wide as you move again, his hands flying to your hips as though to ground himself. He’s really here. Shit, this is really happening.

You roll your hips once more, you can only get one more out before he groans and pulls you harder against him. You gasp and clutch at his shirt.

“Please…take this…” you don’t even finish your sentence before he sits up, moving you with him as he removes his shirt and…fuck. You practically dribble at the sight of him. And he smirks. He fucking knows what he does to you. Bastard.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear when he presses you back into your bed, hands splayed across your hips as you slowly removes the straps of your bra from your shoulders. He kisses across your chest, leaving a trail of electricity with his mouth. You strain against his touch. It’s too much, you want him to touch you now. He’s taking his time though, taking as much time as he wants with you.

When his lips trail lower, lower still to the pretty little bow at the centre of your panties, you pull his hair gently. He looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do that,” you murmur, “I don’t need you to do it if you don’t want to…”

He looks almost confused at your words. Why would he not want to?

“My ex…he never wanted to do anything like that,” you explain, a little embarrassed under Levi’s now cold gaze.

You go to explain yourself again, but you’re cut brutally short by the feeling of his hot mouth against your clit, panties swiftly moved to the side as his tongue slides up your slit. You moan, legs jolting up and squeezing against his head. He uses his hands to hold your thighs apart…fuck he’s strong enough to hold your thighs apart…and continues his attack on your pussy, lapping and licking and doing anything he can to elicit all those little sounds from you. All those little sounds he’s been craving for the past two months.

“I can’t believe,” he groans, “he wouldn’t want,” another lick, “to do this,” another lick, “to you.”

You’re tensing up under him and…oh god, you feel the coil in your stomach beginning to unwind.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t ever want to stop. His mind is running laps and all he can think about is why didn’t he do this to you sooner?

It’s only when he looks up at you from under his messed up hair that you finally clench around him and release swiftly, moaning out his name in the process. He’s painfully hard now, hips rutting against your bed, and you’re painfully aware of it.

He comes up to kiss you. He lets you taste yourself on his mouth. It’s dirty, it’s so dirty and you love it.

“Can I fuck you now?” he whispers into your ear, sending chills down your spine.

He’s making it about you. Of course he is, he’s heard everything you’ve done. Heard how you sucked your boyfriend off and never got anything back from him. Heard how your boyfriend finished without you and you didn’t even protest. And now he’s showing you how it should’ve been.

What he would’ve done.

He’s slow when he pushes into you, letting you gasp as you accommodate for him. He’s big, whispering sweet nothings like “you can take it” and “you fit so perfectly.”

When he eventually moves faster, you cry out at how good it feels. How perfectly he reaches the spot that makes you claw at his back, eliciting fucking whimpers from him. He’s just as obsessed as you are.

Your face is a picture of beauty to him. He can’t help but stare at you, so fucked out and desperate for him, pleading for him to keep going.

You’re both chasing your highs now. It’s only a matter of who will finish first. When he reaches two fingers down to circle your clit, you have nothing left to do but give in and let yourself go.

“That’s it, baby. Cum around my cock, I want you to…oh, fuck,” he groans as he stills inside of you, his release quick to follow yours. You dig your fingers into his back one last time before releasing him so he can fall onto his back next to you, breathing heavily and sticky with sweat and your slick.

It’s peaceful for a while. Neither of you say anything, simply enjoying the presence of the other as you rest through your post orgasm haze. He’s the first to talk.

“I want to know you better.”

You smirk coyly. “Do you not think seeing me naked is knowing me well enough?”

He smiles at you. “Not like that. I want to know what you like and what you do, I want to know everything.”

You can’t help but giggle at his words.

“We’re doing this all backwards,” you whisper against his chest, his arm now folded behind you, “knowing how I sound when I finish before knowing what my favourite food is.”

“It’s cereal,” he strokes your hair.

You whip your head around. “How do you know that?”

“I’m observant,” he shrugs, “guess you don’t know much about me either.”

You look up into his eyes, and despite your limited interactions, you feel comfortable and happy in his arms.

“Tell me everything I need to know then, Levi.”

[buddiesmutslut]

I’m so disappointed in fic writers (including myself).

We literally have canon Omega Eddie “I’m a nester. I nest.” Diaz, and I haven’t seen ANY new ABO fics on ao3. It’s a tragedy.

[katasstrophy]

okay but what if the only reason rin and sae are (forced against their will) to be (somewhat) civil with each other in their adult years is because their gfs are ride or die besties that would rather leave their (petty) asses than compromise their friendship