merelydaydreaming

[merelydaydreaming]

aomine is always the big spoon when going to bed, shoves one of his hands into your pants, the other curled around you to grope a tit. sighs contently before giving your pussy a wet little tap and wishing his best girl a good night.

[merelydaydreaming]

oikawa who switches to spanish when he’s about to cum.

[merelydaydreaming]

"issei?"

matsukawa looks away from the television and down into his lap, where you're currently half asleep with your head pillowed on his right thigh.

his flannel shirt rests over you like a blanket, and you tiredly curl your fingers against the soft, dark green material, enjoying the way the scent of his cologne lingers on it.

you blink up at your roommate, at his dark, tousled curls, at the fond way he's smiling down at you as he waits for you to continue.

"i'm going to miss stealing your shirts and falling asleep on you and drooling on your pants."

you laugh as you say it, but there's a twinge in your heart that's been aching for days.

his brows furrow, his handsome features twisting in confusion. "what, am i dying or something?"

"well, no, but..." you trail off, and he waits.

"but..."

"your ex stopped by last week."

he makes a face. "she did."

your chest hurts.

you've been roommates with matsukawa for three years, since he moved into the second bedroom in your apartment when your roommate left for grad school. he couldn't afford the place he'd been renting with his ex on a single income, so it worked in your favor and his.

and while you were good friends before, since high school, you've grown inexplicably closer since.

closer in a way that makes your next words stick to the back of your throat and the valley of your tongue like solidified honey.

"and now that she's moved back to miyagi, well...i know the whole reason she broke up with you was because she was leaving. and i'm sure now she wants to get back toge—"

"that's not why we broke up," he interrupts you.

"it's not?"

"i broke up with her."

this time, you're the one with a face that's twisting in confusion.

"she did show up here the other day because she wanted to get back together. i don't even know how she got this address. but i've been ignoring all of her texts and calls for weeks."

oh.

"but i told her i don't want to get back together."

what?

"why?" you breathe out, heart thudding oddly in your chest.

matsukawa looks up at the ceiling for a moment, breathing in through his nose slowly, like he's thinking about his next words carefully.

when he glances back down at you, there's an expression on his face that you can't quite read, one that leaves you feeling dizzy and warm.

"i guess i realized that maybe i don't really like thinking about you stealing some other guy's shirts and falling asleep in some other guy's lap."

[merelydaydreaming]

[merelydaydreaming]

have you ever heard of the ‘group effect’? how people are more attractive as a group but if you take them as a singular person, their flaws are magnified and they become wholly less appealing?

that’s osamu but opposite.

osamu’s so cool when he’s alone. respectful and kind to elders, engaged in children’s conversations. he knows how to haggle the most intimidating vendors, can fix a leaky sink, and appreciates drawings made by 5 year olds.

but then you place him in the same room as atsumu and then you realize he’s one half of a whole idiot.

[merelydaydreaming]

OVERRATED // matsukawa issei x f!reader

You’re convinced that getting fingered is overrated. Your roommate shows you otherwise, since you’ve clearly never been with someone who knows what they’re doing.

2.6k — 18+, roommates to lovers, fingering, mattsun and those goddamn hands

A woman sits in a dark booth in the back corner of a restaurant, lower lip tucked between her teeth, fingers digging into the edges of her seat as she tries not to make it obvious that the man beside her has his hand up her skirt. 

“There’s no way it feels that good for her,” you scoff, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as you stare judgmentally at the television screen. 

Matsukawa looks from you, to the movie, and back again. “Getting fingered?”

Your eyes flit over to where your roommate’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one brow raised as he lifts a can of soda to his lips.

The woman on the television screen moans.

(This isn’t porn, for the record.)

“Yeah? I mean this is like, false advertising.”

Matsukawa blinks. “I literally do not think I’ve ever met a girl who doesn’t enjoy being fingered.”

A sudden surge of heat licks at the back of your neck at his words, and you force your attention back to the screen. “And just how many girls have you—actually, you know what. Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and the two of you are silent for another five minutes or so before he speaks up again.

“So you’ve never had an orgasm just from being fingered then.”

Matsukawa says it bluntly, plainly, like he’s completely unbothered by the prospect of casually discussing sex with you on your couch on a Friday night. 

“Nope,” you shake your head, popping the ‘P’ for emphasis.

He’s not looking at you when he replies, “That’s a shame.”

—

Your phone lights up with a notification for a text message from Matsukawa on Sunday morning while you’re still in bed. You’re pretty sure he left the apartment early to get breakfast with Hanamaki, and he’s yet to return.

Mattsun: can you text makki and tell him you think getting fingered is overrated Mattsun: he doesn’t believe me >>: …. >>: so like >>: sometimes makki can just maybe not know things Mattsun: you spent twenty minutes last week telling both of us about your last date who couldn’t get it up Mattsun: in detail Mattsun: with a donut and >>: OKAY YEAH YEAH Mattsun: :)

Collapsing back against your pillows, you groan before opening your text thread with Hanamaki.

>>: getting fingered is overrated, makki Hanamaki: wow he wasn’t kidding  Hanamaki: wild >>: now can you make sure he brings me home a coffee Hanamaki: k Hanamaki: u act like he would ever forget something u asked for >>: what’s that supposed to mean Hanamaki: also though Hanamaki: when are u guys going to fuck

You drop your phone on the mattress, looking around the room as if Hanamaki himself is sitting in the corner snickering at you. 

>>: i’m sorry what >>: who >>: how did we get here Hanamaki: at least ask HIM to finger u  Hanamaki: because this shit is DEpressing >>: i’m blocking your number Hanamaki: u’ve seen his hands right >>: bye Hanamaki: cool i’ll email u xo

Groaning, you bury your face under the covers. 

—

“I had an idea. A really dumb idea, actually. It’s kind of Makki’s fault, but—“

Matsukawa looks up from where he’s pouring a glass of water, brows furrowing. 

“—and honestly just feel free to say no and forget this ever happened—“

He blinks, putting down the cup and leaning against the counter, crossing his arms as he waits for you to fumble through this never ending lead up to a question that’s been eating at the back of your mind all week. 

“Can you uh…could you maybe…”

Matsukawa moves a little closer to you, leaning in, as if his proximity is going to help encourage you to drag the rest of the words from where they’re clinging to the backs of your teeth. 

“CouldyoufingermeinaplatonicwaysoIcanfigureoutifI’mjustbrokenorsomething.”

You say it all in a single breath. 

Matsukawa chokes. 

“You think you’re the problem?” he asks, taken aback. 

“I mean, yeah? If it’s supposed to feel good, and it doesn’t for me, then maybe I—“

“Go put on something that makes you feel sexy,” he interrupts you calmly.

Your heart lurches in your chest. “What? Right now!?” you squeak. 

Matsukawa walks over to the kitchen sink, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he slowly presses down the pump on the foaming soap and thoroughly washes his hands. 

You’re not sure how or why that sight alone already leaves your throat dry. 

He nods. “Put on whatever makes you feel good. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. We’re not going anywhere. And then go in my bedroom, lay down in my bed, and text me when you’re ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, you find yourself on your stomach in Matsukawa’s bed, legs idly kicking in the air to expel the nervous energy simmering in your gut. 

And while it was borderline mortifying trying to pick out something “sexy” to wear before tiptoeing into his bedroom, you realize why he said it now as you hit send on a message that simply reads “Ready.”

Because now that you’re lying here in a short, pleated skirt that’s lived in the back of your closet for years, thigh high socks, a delicate, lacy bralette that you’ve yet to find a reason to wear, and a thong with a little pink bow nestled just above your ass—

Now that you’re wrapped up in the familiar scent of Matsukawa’s body wash in a way that’s far more intimate than stealing his clothes or falling asleep on his shoulder on the couch—

Now that you know he’s seconds away from seeing you like this in his bed, from slipping his fingers beneath your skirt—

Well, you can already feel it—the slick, sticky arousal soaking its way into your panties. 

“Wow,” Matsukawa murmurs as he walks in, striding over to the foot of the bed. “Nice socks.”

You go to roll over, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, and he shakes his head. “No, stay like that.”

Turning back onto your stomach, you push your phone aside, hugging one of his pillows to your face—though you almost regret it when you subsequently end up burying your nose in the warm and admittedly dizzying scent of him once more. Meanwhile, you feel the mattress dip as he climbs atop it. 

“If at any point you want me to stop, let me know, okay?”

You nod, and he slowly starts to run his hands up the backs of your thighs, stopping just shy of the hem of your skirt. 

“Didn’t you wear this to that costume party at Oikawa’s a few years ago?”

The first and only time you wore it, given how its meager length leaves almost nothing to the imagination. 

“Yeah,” you laugh, though it’s a little weak, given the way he’s now rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs against the inside of your thighs. 

Unintentionally, you spread your legs somewhat for him at the sensation, toes curling. He chuckles quietly. 

Matsukawa’s fingers finally slide up your skirt, his large hands resting on either of your ass cheeks. You try to fight the sudden urge to arch your spine into his touch. 

“Is this still okay?”

You nod, and he squeezes. 

A moan slips out past your lips before you can stop it. 

“Oh,” you breathe out, fingers grasping his silky dark green sheets for purchase as he begins to massage the globes of your ass. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks. 

He squeezes a little harder, and there’s a euphoric release of tension that seeps through your muscles.

“So good,” you mumble, face pressed sideways against his pillow. Which you may or may not have drooled on. 

Cool air licks and settles against your backside as Matsukawa grasps your skirt and pushes it out of the way. Your thong tightens against your skin with tension for a moment, snapping back lightly once he lets it go.

Sliding his palm down the center of your ass, he brings his hand back to your thighs and stretches his fingers outward, effectively spreading your legs further. You inhale, toes pressing down into the mattress at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh, do you want me to take these off?” he pauses, idly toying with the string of your thong. 

And while it would certainly be easier, there’s something about the evidence of your arousal soaking into the material, something about the way the lace tugs against your skin—

You shake your head. 

“Good, the bow is cute.”

He runs a finger over the delicate piece of ribbon, and you’re thankful he can’t see the embarrassing way you swallow in response. 

“Is flattery a part of the process?” you ask. 

You can almost hear the grin on his face as he slowly feathers a finger against the wet spot on your panties and replies, “Is it not working?”

“You’re terrible,” you laugh, despite the shiver that runs through you. 

“Save your breath.”

You turn slightly to look back at him, brows furrowed. “For wha—“

Your words are cut off by the moan that crawls up your throat without warning as the pad of Matsukawa’s middle finger suddenly slides down the length of your creamy slit. 

It catches you off guard, how good that little bit of contact feels. How sensitive you are for him. How—

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re wet,” he murmurs, one digit now circling around the rim of your puffy, fluttering entrance while another long finger draws through your folds once more. 

He’s hardly doing anything, and it already sounds obscene. 

Your chest burns, and your heart thunders in your chest as you find yourself arching your ass up off of the bed. The skirt flops back down over your backside in the process, and Matsukawa’s quick to push it back out of the way, his large hand pressing into the small of your back. 

The pillow case grows more damp against your cheek as you quietly pant against it. 

“Matsukawa,” you whine, hips pressing backward again as he ghosts a finger over your swollen clit before dragging two digits back through your folds. Your cunt aches. 

“You have to tell me if you don’t like how it feels, okay?”

He runs his thumb across your dripping hole. 

“Matsukawa,” you gasp again, one hand tightly grasping the top edge of the mattress. 

“Just tell me to stop, and I will,” he promises, slipping the tip of a finger into your entrance. Barely past the fingernail. 

“Issei, please,” you nearly sob, spreading your legs even further for him. “Don’t��don’t stop.”

He lets out a noisy, rough exhale. One that’s a stark contrast to his easy, syrupy tone. 

But you can hardly hear it as he slides his finger into your cunt, not stopping until he’s at the last knuckle. 

You can hardly hear it over the desperate, needy moan that he drags out of you on one finger alone. 

Matsukawa takes his time exploring your tight inner walls, alternating between pumping his finger in and out while you keen for him and keeping it lodged inside as he curls and strokes your wet channel. 

It’s never felt like this. 

Not with anyone. 

Not even with your own fingers. 

But this—

It feels like you’re burning from the inside out, like your nerves are on the verge of going up in flames. 

It’s just one long, deft finger sliding in and out of the eager, needy grip of your pussy. Your tight, soaking wet pussy that’s nowhere near full enough yet still pulsing and dripping with pleasure all the same. 

It’s just a single finger, and yet your voice is going hoarse from the moans tumbling from your lips, the repeated whimpers of Matsukawa’s name as your sticky arousal slides down the palm of his hand. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, voice a little rougher than it was before. 

“I’m probably making a mess all over your bed,” you mutter against the pillow. 

“Good,” you swear you hear him breathe out before he asks, “Still overrated?” His free hand slides beneath the waistband of your thong,  wrapping around your hip bone. 

“It’s never, I’ve never—“ you gasp. 

“Because you sleep with guys who do it for themselves, who see it as a necessity to getting their dick inside of you,” Matsukawa replies in a calm tone that’s a stark contrast to the way you’re unravelling beneath him. “I just want you to feel good. This isn’t about me.”

And you’ve also never been fingered like this—face down, prone. With your pebbled nipples rubbing against your lace bralette and a too-short skirt rucked up around your waist. In a sopping wet thong that keeps rubbing against your clit every time Matsukawa nudges it out of the way, with thigh high socks that continue to slip down lower and lower as you writhe in pleasure against the mattress. 

You’ve never been fingered by Matsukawa Issei. Your roommate and your best friend who’s a little too handsome for his own good. Who you’ve had more wet dreams about than you can count. 

Matsukawa Issei and his stupidly long, dexterous fingers. Two of which are now stuffed in your tight hole, massaging your inner walls while you drool on his pillow like it’s his cock that’s stuffed inside of you instead. 

Matsukawa Issei, who’s somehow on the verge of making you forget every dick you’ve ever had inside of you by fucking you with his fingers and his fingers alone. 

“Don’t flatter me that much yet, not till I make you come,” he murmurs, stroking your throbbing clit. 

And oh—you fucking said that last bit out loud. 

Not that you can bring yourself to care when the coil of heat in your gut is wrapped so tight you can hardly breathe. Every muscle in your body tenses under the liquid pleasure that sears its way down your spine with a bite that has you trembling, sheets slipping beneath the feeble grasp of your shaking hands. 

You end up pushing yourself onto your knees as Matsukawa purposely slows his pace, like he’s not ready for you to come yet. Like he wants to edge you until the whole goddamn mattress is soaked.

“Issei,” you whimper in a small, breathless voice that you can hardly believe is your own. 

And suddenly you find yourself being tugged backwards into his lap, your legs spread, your back to his chest. You barely have time to marvel over the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your ass through his pants, not when his lips ghost against the shell of your ear before he rests his chin against your shoulder. 

Matsukawa slides his fingers back inside of you, and you moan at the angle, at the way his mouth ends up tucked into the crook of your neck when you roll your hips into his touch. His lips are hot against your skin as he traces the column of your neck, cunt squelching wetly while your pussy greedily takes in the stretch of his digits over and over. 

And then he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, biting and sucking at the sensitive spot while your cunt throbs, as you shake with a full-body shiver, as the damn of pleasure inside of you snaps and overflows with an orgasm that leaves tears in your eyes as you sob his name. 

Matsukawa tilts your chin and finds your mouth with his, claiming your lips in a messy, spit-soaked kiss as you ride out your climax. 

It’s only once you stop shuddering in pleasure that you remember how hard he felt beneath you, and you go to slip a hand between your bodies—

“It’s okay,” he exhales, sounding just as out of breath as you feel.

“You don’t want me to—“ You try not to sound as disappointed as you feel over his sudden rejection.

His eyes go a little wide. “No, no. No, it’s that. I just…uh…I already…”

You blink at him. “I didn’t think that was actually a thing that happens.”

Did he really just come in his—

Matsukawa rubs the back of his neck, biting his bottom lip. “It’s never happened to me before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh?”

For some reason, you feel more than a little smug at these words.

“First time for everything I guess,” he grins.

“Overrated?” you ask coyly, warmth swelling in your chest.

Matsukawa shakes his head, lips brushing against yours when he leans in and murmurs against your mouth, “Definitely not.”

[merelydaydreaming]

rewatched a total of 3 minutes of KNB with aomine on the screen and felt the urge to work on a wip from maybe like 2020 or 2021??? let me tell you it is a garbage heap and idfk y i even wanna look at it.....

On another note, im speed reading through a book that has 36 chapters that i started last august, which makes no sense cause I could've finished it before the new year. So my next book when i finish this one (Ink Exchange by melissa marr) is a court of silver flames by sarah j. maas or the third book in the wicked lovely series by melissa marr idk we'll see.

[merelydaydreaming]

waking reverie

levi ackerman x f!reader

summary: sick and tired of overhearing the sounds of you fooling around with a fellow squad leader, Levi decides to confront you afterward at a particularly inopportune moment.

or, Levi catches you getting yourself off and has a thing or two to say (and do) about it.

word count: 4.3k

content: NSFW, 18+, smut, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, squirting, unprotected sex, rough sex, squirting, dom!levi, possessive!levi, creampie, choking, spit kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

Hange is going to kill him if he keeps stealing their pencils. 

It’s the first thought that crosses Levi’s mind when a loud cracking noise is followed by something sharp jabbing into his palm, and he glances down to see the writing utensil crumble into a sad clump of shards over his page of notes. But he doesn’t mull over it long, not when he’s distracted by something he’s heard far too much of over the past few days—the sound of you giggling, followed by the door to Squad Leader Daniel Flore’s office slamming shut.

Tonight’s pencil met its earliest grave yet, the wood starting to splinter an hour ago when the mess hall cleared out, at which point Levi had begun unconsciously squeezing it in irritated anticipation of…this. 

There’s a scuffling of boots and the squeak of a chair scooting across the floor next door. But then things are relatively silent for a few moments after, and Levi looks up at the ceiling pleadingly, wondering if maybe he’ll finally get some peace tonight. But no, his hopes are quickly dashed when he hears the muffled yet unmistakable sound of you fucking moaning. 

Levi wishes he had another pencil to snap in half. 

Maybe the chair legs will have to do.

It’s not that Levi gives a shit about his fellow Survey Corps members getting laid. In fact, if it means they’re less high strung on the field, he’ll gladly set up a goddamn matchmaking booth outside of the building, if only to save himself the headache of trying to maintain order over a group of sexually frustrated idiots. Whatever it takes to make his life a little less miserable.

He’s perhaps a bit more judgemental when it comes to Squad Leaders pairing off, often shamelessly barking at them the next day not to let their “messy shit” get in the way of doing their damn jobs. Yet he generally waves it off all the same, rolling his eyes when the lovesick idiots start to realize what a bad idea it is to grapple with feelings when you’re supposed to be saving the world from man-eating Titans.

Anyway, you and Flore are both Squad Leaders. Fine. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

Whatever.

But the real fucking issue here is the fact that Flore keeps his desk up against the wall that he shares with Levi’s office. And he’s been fucking you up against—or on top of, maybe—that stupid, shitty piece of furniture for the past three nights in a row.

Loudly.

So loudly that Levi’s not sure if Flore’s got something to prove or if he’s just downright stupid. Probably the latter, if Levi’s being honest. Either way, he’s well and truly on the verge of losing his mind at this point.

And if a tiny part of it is because he’s downright fucking baffled that you’d go barking up Flore’s tree of all people? 

Levi Ackerman is not jealous.

…he just assumed you’d have better taste.

—

Perhaps fucking Daniel Flore a mere wall away from Captain Levi’s office wasn’t quite your best decision as of late. 

And not just because of the fact that he can more than likely hear the two of you going at it like foolish teenagers, which is just asking to draw more ire from the already irritable man. 

Not just because, despite your tendency to bicker with one another like it’s your job, you actually have quite a solid working relationship with the Captain. Something you’d tentatively call friendship—and he might even be inclined to agree, on his less moody days. 

The most conflicting part of your tipsy decision that has since turned into a multi-day affair is something else entirely. Something that, in reality, shouldn’t even matter. 

…because it’s not like he’s even interested.

At one point or another, you found yourself developing feelings for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

—but the idea of Captain Levi fucking Ackerman deigning to get down and dirty with you of all people is laughable, at best. He can hardly step out of his office without turning heads, let alone when he makes his way through town. With the reputation that he’s built for himself over the years, he could have anyone he wanted.

Flore’s nice enough. And he’s a decent kisser, you’ll give him that. But as you glance back at the brown-haired man leaning against the chair and panting, a smug grin on his face as you slip your pants back on to conclude your activities, you internally cringe at the feeling of your underwear brushing against your sad, throbbing clit.

A throbbing clit that you’ll have to sneak off to your own office down the hall to take care of yourself for the second night in a row, because while you ended your first encounter somewhat satisfied, Flore hasn’t been able to get you off since. You’ve put on enough of a show each time to leave him thinking otherwise, half convinced that maybe there’s just something wrong with you, but after tonight, you may have to rethink your arrangement.

There’s a small, well-worn couch situated in the corner of your office, which you make a beeline for after closing the door and shucking your pants off once more. The material drops onto the wooden floor in a careless heap as you slump back onto the cushions, letting your thighs fall open as you lean your head back and slowly swipe a finger over the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. 

Your folds are frustratingly dry, your fleeting thoughts of Flore doing absolutely nothing to help dampen your situation. So, also for the second night in a row…your thoughts betray you as they drift to a place you know will leave you slick and whimpering.

A vision of soft, black hair, steel gray eyes, and a familiar commanding, low voice is all it takes to encourage the sticky arousal now dripping at the apex of your thighs, a shameless little moan falling from your lips as you slide two fingers into your aching cunt.

“Have you ever considered that there are other people in the barra—”

The door to your office flies open as Levi storms in without knocking, though his barked out words are immediately cut off the moment his eyes stray to the sofa. He freezes in place, not even bothering to turn around as he slowly kicks the door shut behind him.

And it would be comical, just how many emotions are fighting their way across Levi’s normally composed face, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s now staring at you while you finger yourself because you were so desperate to get yourself off that you forgot to lock the fucking door. 

He blinks, crossing his arms. “You’re joking.”

Fingers still lodged inside of your wet heat because you can’t decide whether or not that’s less awkward than pulling them out and wiping them on the couch, you realize that you have no idea what to say. “I—”

“Was fucking like animals for forty-five minutes up against the wall beside my office not enough for you?” he deadpans.

Your face heats up in embarrassment, and you pull your eyes away from his heavy gaze, looking off to the side of the room as you subtly shift your fingers to your thigh. “That’s not exactly…I just didn’t…” you mutter, trailing off. 

Levi scoffs as he swiftly ascertains what you’re alluding to, “Don’t tell me Flore doesn’t even know how to get a woman off.”

You bristle with embarrassment over his forwardness, finally snapping your legs closed and hastily tugging a pillow over your lap. “That’s none of your business.”

“If two Squad Leaders are fucking on my watch, it’s my business to make sure your messy little relationship doesn’t end up getting us all killed in the field,” he sneers. 

“There’s no relationship. We’re not dating. It was a one time thing”

Levi doesn’t respond.

“Okay, a few-times thing,” you amend with a huff, shifting uncomfortably. 

He continues to stare at you, waiting.

“I was lonely and tired of taking care of things myself. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

His boots hardly make a sound as he takes a step closer to you and observes, “It looks like you’re still taking care of things yourself, anyway.”

You sigh heavily, “It’s slim pickings around here, Captain.”

Another step.

“So Flore was your top choice?”

Despite the fact that you’re nearly naked in front of the man who’s currently raising an eyebrow as he nudges your discarded underwear with the toe of his boot, you manage to school your features into a mask of cool indifference as you shrug, “My preferred taste is a bit more…unattainable.”

“Let me guess, Commander Erwin?” he drawls.

You can’t help the choked out laugh that escapes you at that—just how very off base his assumptions are. If nothing else, perhaps it means you’ve done a somewhat decent job at not making your crush on the Captain wholly apparent. 

“I mean, he sure does look like he’s fantastic in bed—”

“Spare me,” Levi groans.

“...but he’s just not quite short-tempered and difficult enough for my tastes,” you finish, letting your mouth quirk upward in the ghost of a smile. 

Levi’s knees bump into yours as he reaches the couch, looking down at you with his hands resting casually in his pockets. “And someone is?”

“Someone unattainable,” you concede.

Your breath hitches in your throat when Levi leans down, making a noncommittal noise as he swipes a layer of dust off of the couch’s wooden frame. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he asks, “So…you’d rather do this,” he gently thumps a fist over the pillow in your lap, “than try and approach this someone?”

Refusing to back down from his stare, you flippantly reply, “Sometimes the fantasy ends up being better than the real thing, anyway.”

Levi’s jaw ticks, and he asks you carefully in a low tone, “And just how often do you entertain this little fantasy?”

“Every night,” you breathe out, not missing a beat.

This time, when Levi leans in, his breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “I can assure you the fantasy pales in comparison.” 

With that, he stands up straight and heads for the door without so much as a goodbye.

Gaping, you call out, “Captain Levi?”

His hand pauses on the doorknob, and without turning to look at you, he says cooly, “My office. Now.”

“I—”

“It’s cleaner.”

—

It’s ridiculous, the way your fingers tremble as you slip your pants back on—forgoing the underwear completely this time. On the field, you wield the dual blades at your sides with a steady, focused grip and instinctual precision that once upon a time granted you a top spot in your Training Corps class. 

And yet here you are now, caught in a battle between the stubborn button of your pants and your shaking hands, your entire goddamn axis thrown off kilter by the devastatingly handsome Captain currently waiting for you a few doors down. With a sigh, you give up, tugging your shirt down and hoping for the sake of the last charred bits of your ego that you didn’t misunderstand his invitation. 

Are you really about to go and fuck Captain Levi Ackerman?

You don’t have to ponder the question long, because you’re hardly two steps inside of Levi’s office, having slipped inside the door that he left open just a crack, when you find yourself firmly pressed up against it. 

Levi’s body is warm as he cages you in, eyes boring into your own while he reaches behind you and flicks the lock shut with an abrupt click that seems to echo throughout the room. You’re both silent for a moment, and he takes half a step back.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” 

The question catches you off guard, but you nod.

Levi inhales sharply through his nose and adds, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you exhale quickly, already feeling more than a little breathless.

He leans in, letting his fingers ghost over your chin, his breath mingling in the vicinity of yours as he warns you softly,  “I’m not a gentle lover.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” you assure him, taking no small delight in the way his eyes briefly close at your affirmation.

“...and I don’t share,” he whispers, thumb skating over your lower lip.

“Neither do I,” you challenge, though you’re well aware you’re getting far too ahead of yourself with your implied request.

“I would hope not,” Levi chuckles lowly. “From now on, you come to me and only me.”

Searing heat drips through your veins, your lips parting slightly as the full weight of his words hits you. 

Levi’s lips hover over yours, so close you can nearly taste the promise on them as he murmurs, “...and you come for me. Only. Me.”

Oh.

Toes curling, it takes every ounce of restraint inside of your body to hold back the pathetically desperate whimper vibrating through you in response. The quiet, shaky “yes” that leaves you is hardly audible over the rapid beating of your heart.

But it’s all Levi needs to hear, that last exhale, before he cups your face in both hands and slots his lips against yours. 

There’s a focused, measured precision in the way Levi kisses, a push and pull in the way his mouth both guides and chases your own. With a tease of teeth along your bottom lip and a sensual dance of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you’re caught up in a hungry, electrifying undercurrent that leaves you dizzy on the spot. 

You’ve spent more time than you’d like to admit thinking about Levi’s mouth. The delicate curve of his cupid’s bow. That restless tongue that’s always clicking against his teeth, as if it’s just waiting to be put to use elsewhere. The prominent taste of tea you could guarantee would be lingering on his lips. 

But there’s one thing you hadn’t accounted for, one thing that knocks the air from your lungs.

—it’s the way Levi murmurs your name into the kiss, the curve of each letter so sensual, his voice so rough that you know the memory of it is already irrevocably seared into your mind. 

You let yourself tangle your fingers in the silken, black strands of his hair, earning a pleased, rumbling groan in his throat in response. Pushing your luck, you tug on the locks, and the hot trail of kisses Levi’s blazing along your exposed neck is interrupted by the soft growl that leaves his throat as he bites down on your sensitive skin and begins to suck. 

The firm, solid pressure of his body against yours as you arch into him leaves you keening, and his hands drift down to grasp your hips while he presses hungry, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, as low as your partially-unbuttoned shirt will allow. You rock your hips into him, already drunk on his scalding, attentive touch, and a small moan escapes your lips when you feel the rock hard evidence of his own arousal drag against the apex of your thighs.

“Levi,” you pant out, rolling your hips once more.

He groans languidly, bringing his lips back up to yours for a chaste kiss. Fingertips skating beneath your chin, gray eyes bore into your own as he asks, “Safe word?”

Mind blanking for a moment, every single word you’ve ever known ceases to exist in the heady, addictive presence of the man before you. Your eyes land on something sitting on his desk; it’s broken to pieces but still unmistakable. 

“Pencil.”

Levi huffs out a low laugh, staring at you a little incredulously before he intones, “Tch. Fine.”

At that, he lets his hand trail down between your legs, another amused sound leaving him when he realizes you didn’t bother buttoning your pants back up before slinking into his office. 

“Eager?” he questions, only to let out a near feral noise when he notices your underwear also didn’t come along for the trip. 

All you can do is whine as he slides his hand into your pants, no small amount of satisfaction gracing his features when he feels the damp pool of arousal that’s since soaked through the material. 

“I hope this was all for me,” he observes, sliding two fingers through your slick, sensitive folds. 

You shiver, pushing into his touch, afraid that you might collapse if he doesn’t start sliding those thin, dexterous digits into your aching cunt soon. 

“You know it is,” you pant.

Your legs quake when he brushes his thumb over your swollen clit, fingertips teasing at your fluttering entrance. 

“I wonder if that’s why you couldn’t come for him,” he muses, bringing his hand up to eye level and watching the way your sticky arousal hangs between the digits. You’d whine at the loss of contact, if it weren’t for the way he sticks his fingers in his mouth and licks them clean.

His hand trails back down to your wet heat as you try to remember how to breathe, his gaze heavy as plunges two fingers into your cunt and rasps, “Because you wished it was my cock inside of you, fucking you stupid.”

Levi doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your needy hole, each thrust punctuated by the wet squelch of your gratuitous arousal. Heat spreads under your skin under his thorough exploration of your narrow, saturated channel, digits curling to meticulously stroke a spot that has you gasping his name. Your fingertips dig into his collarbone, and Levi surges forward, lips crashing into yours as he swallows your pleading moans. And for what may very well be the first time in your life, your climax takes you entirely by surprise, liquid fire whipping through your insides with the force of a raging gale.

He nips at your bottom lip while you come down from your shuddering wave of pleasure, but your fingers have barely begun to reach for his stiff length when Levi suddenly drops down to his knees in front of you. Nails dragging along your hip bones, he swiftly tugs down your pants and tosses them aside before pushing your legs further apart and burying his face between them.

Prickles of overstimulation crawl up your spine, and you let out a small sound of protest, but your core immediately turns molten again at Levi’s ragged tone as he breathes out, “One more. One more before I fuck you.”

There’s nothing calculated about the messy, hungry way he goes down on you, parting your folds to sink his tongue into your cunt, nose pressed firmly against your clit, a moan reverberating through him as he laps up every last drop of the cum that’s leaking out of you. His fingertips dig into your thighs, saliva running down his chin, and he moves to slide two fingers back inside of you while he begins to mouth at your sensitive bundle of nerves

At this point, even if Levi hadn’t made it explicitly clear that whatever this is between the two of you is very much exclusive—

…you’re not sure if anyone else could even come close. 

Reality trumps the fantasy, indeed, Captain. 

And with a firm crook of his fingers, the steaming pressure building up inside of you bursts, clear liquid spraying from your pussy and soaking Levi’s face and hand as you ride out your second orgasm.

If you thought Levi looked feral before, it’s nothing compared to the look that crosses his face as you squirt for him. “Oh fuck.”

He all but drags you over to his desk, unceremoniously swiping everything off of the surface and letting it all clatter to the floor before lifting you up—with strength that honestly shouldn’t surprise you—and placing you on its surface. Fingers aching to touch him, you grapple with his shirt, pulling it over his head while he trails his way down the remaining buttons on yours. You hardly have time to enjoy the planes of his bare chest before you, because he makes quick work of your bra, cursing under his breath at the sight and wasting no time in leaning in to taste your supple breasts. 

A small part of you almost wants to make a comment about dirtying Levi’s clean desk with the arousal you know is dripping out of you once more—you’re so fucking wet for him it’s boredline ridiculous—but all thoughts go fizzling from your mind when he latches onto your nipple and begins to suck.

“Fucking perfect,” he grunts, teeth grazing the sensitive bud. 

Unable to wait any longer to finally see what’s straining for release between his legs, you unbutton his pants, humming in satisfaction at the feeling of his deceivingly thick cock throbbing in your palm. Saliva coats your tits as he sucks more fervently in response to the way you’ve begun to stroke his length, your other hand tangling in his hair.

“Stop.”

You freeze at the command in his tone, waiting as he pushes down his pants and underwear, kicking them out of the way before stepping closer between your legs. 

“Next time,” he amends gently, leaning in to graze his teeth along the shell of your ear, lips and tongue pressing into the tender skin behind your earlobe. “Because I might very well lose my mind if I don’t fuck you right now.”

You exhale, muscles aching with anticipation. “Please, Levi.”

He pushes your thighs apart, swiping his fingers through your arousal and using it to coat his shaft before notching its reddened, leaking head at your entrance. And remembering your earlier words about just how you like it, there’s no warning when Levi plunges his throbbing cock into your slick, wet cunt, plastering his mouth onto yours to swallow down each delicious moan that echoes out of you as he splits you open.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Levi fucks you, sweaty hair plastered against his forehead as he revels in the warmth of your tight cunt with each snap of his hips, every thrust deeper than the last. The push and drag of his fat cock has you whining and moaning so loud your throat begins to burn, satisfaction curling in your gut at the mirroring sound that leaves him when you roughly pull on his hair.

Belatedly—too distracted by your lust-fuelled frenzy—you realize that smacking flesh and needy, desperate noises aren’t the only sounds echoing throughout the room. With each punishing snap of his hips, as Levi stuffs you full of his cock over and over, his desk violently smacks into the wall.

The wall that Flore is very likely currently sitting on the other side of at his own desk.

You tell Levi as much, and he makes no effort to slow down as he growls, “I don’t fucking care.”

And well, maybe it’s a little fucked up.

But given that the object of years worth of your wet dreams is currently balls deep inside of you and groaning your name repeatedly, you can’t bring yourself to give a shit, either.

So instead, you whimper, “Harder, Levi. Please.”

Hands trail along your throat, and Levi meets your gaze. You nod, and he tightens his grip, your dwindling airflow setting your nerves alight with pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waist, the balls of your feet pressing into the small of his back, and as he continues to choke you, your tight cunt chokes the width of his cock in equal measure.

It feels so fucking good that tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and your chest aches from the heaving, panting breaths you repeatedly continue to demand of it. The pressure on your throat lessens, and you feel Levi’s hand come up to cup your chin, his thumb pulling down on your bottom lip.

Though it’s only one word, you know he feels just as wrecked as you by his low, rough tone as rasps, “Open.”

You part your lips, and Levi leans in, spitting in your mouth. He feels the way your cunt clenches down on him in response, so after you swallow, unconsciously letting your lips fall back open, he spits again. 

In turn, you grab him by the hair and pull him in for a filthy kiss. Levi’s mouth devours yours as he grabs you by the throat again, moaning against your lips, “Good girl.”

The ache between your thighs blooms red hot, the coil of pleasure twisting in your gut unfurling so rapidly your vision goes white as you come hard, gushing around the stretch of Levi’s cock. He chases your lips as you throw your head back in pleasure, kissing you hard while he drives his length deep into you one last time to the hilt, hips jerking as he empties himself inside of you.

You let your body fall against his as you both come down from your climaxes, breathing heavily. Levi begins to rub soothing circles against your back, callused fingertips skating across your smooth skin, the gesture an amusingly stark contrast to how brazenly he just fucked you. When he pulls out of you, thick cum leaks from between your thighs, making a mess of his desk. 

And for once, it’s a mess that Levi Ackerman doesn’t mind.

Instead, he cups your cheek in one hand, a glint in his eyes as he murmurs, “I think I can get four out of you next time.”

Your eyes widen, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you lean in, lips ghosting over his as you retort, “Cocky bastard.”

Tongue clicking against his teeth, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Brat,” kissing you again.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[merelydaydreaming]

meian shugo is a relatively private man. with no personal social media accounts to his name, his presence on the internet starts and ends with msby's publicity.

his teammates know him as their captain. they know his leadership style and his tactics on the court. they know his favorite post-game izakaya and that he's a morning person. the rest of his life remains a mystery to the jackals.

—but everyone on the team knows that he's married.

there's a thick gold band that rests on his ring finger, methodically threaded onto the chain around his neck and tucked beneath his jersey in the locker room before each game.

atsumu catches him smiling down at his phone sometimes, lower lip tucked between his teeth in a boyish way they've never seen on the court.

bokuto swears there's always a hint of floral perfume that clings to meian's jacket before he shrugs it off.

hinata caught him buying flowers once—a enormous bouquet of roses.

and it's this one morsel of knowledge that has them all staring dumbfounded after a game as they catch their captain chatting with a journalist.

you're leaning into him as you giggle at something he says, and he doesn't pull away. he nudges one of your heels with his sneaker, one finger reaching out to hook on the camera strap that hangs around your neck. there's a pencil tucked behind your ear, and he plucks it out, grabbing the notebook in your hands and writing something down on one of its pages. you laugh again.

atsumu gapes. hinata and bokuto exchange alarmed glances. because yes, you're beautiful, and they'd all probably be tripping over themselves if you were interviewing and flirting with them, but—

"i wasn't expecting that," hinata blinks.

"they look a little...friendly," atsumu comments carefully, unable to look away as meian drags a hand through his sweaty hair and mirrors your smile.

sakusa's unimpressed voice suddenly interrupts their spectating, "i would hope so, considering the fact that she's his wife."

[merelydaydreaming]

for @wintersroses, from this<3

not kicking both your boyfriend and his best friend out of the house before your zoom call for work was your first mistake.

the second was not repositioning yourself with your back to a wall, as both hiro and mattsun have both managed to become minor celebrities amongst your co-workers with every little guest appearance they've made in the background over the past two and a half hours.

guest appearances including but not limited to: a fashion show of shit from your closet, badminton in the living room, mattsun stirring cookie batter for absolutely no reason for ten minutes straight (you're pretty sure they're currently on fire in the oven), hiro seeing how many cheetos he could fit in his mouth, mattsun shoving even more cheetos into hiro's mouth because he thought he could do better than that, and their official audition tape for wwe smackdown.

and finally comes your third mistake—assuming that you're in the clear now that the presentation has ended, your boss has logged off, and your co-workers are in the midst of saying their goodbyes.

"so wait, which one's your boyfriend?" one of them laughs.

you sigh, rolling your eyes with a fond smile. "at this rate, i'm inclined to say neither—"

"me."

"me."

hiro and mattsun both interrupt you at the same time, shoving their heads into the frame on either side of you. mattsun's curls tickle the side of your face as hiro plants a shameless kiss on your cheek.

"that's not—" you choke as mattsun tickles your side.

"we're madly in love," hiro sighs, putting his chin on his hands.

mattsun winks at the camera.

your co-workers giggle.

you die a little inside for several reasons.

"okay cool nice to meet you guys, we're gonna have sex now bye!" hiro throws up a peace sign.

"TAKAHIRO—"

mattsun waves and clicks the red button to end the call.

[merelydaydreaming]

ummm do you get knocked up after a night out, dressed in your prettiest clothes with a beat face or do you get knocked up in your muumuu with messy hair

[merelydaydreaming]

may i pls get some alpha sukuna… he’s so nasty (affectionate)

sukuna's every bit the perfect alpha on paper. ask the potential omegas lining up to fix a nest in his home and watch them salivate for a knot so large and a bond so deep. an alpha they'll present and prostrate for. there are rumours about the sheer weight and size of his cock, the heady pheromones, not to mention his week-long ruts. call it an impossible excursion—a breeding fuckfest with only one thing in mind. to be used and bred full of his pups. a litter or two or more. fucking without care—brutal, relentless, and insatiable.

but forget that his reputation precedes him. sukuna's true value as an alpha stands solely on his capability to hunt and chase, to capture a coveted mate he keeps...or lack thereof.

contrary to the rules of ritual, courting is by far the least of sukuna's priorities. turning his nose up at romance and the like when he's had potential mates eating out the palm of his hand since the beginning. there's no need to make a song and dance about it when he'd have his pick and fill of omegas without needing to try. much less convince them of his oh so superior traits.

he's attractive, you'll give him that. most alphas are. but there's something extra special about a tall man with tattoos and a mean side. such callousness. oozing masculinity and hot-blooded need. like an impending storm. too intense, too forthcoming, and way more than you're prepared for. after all, an unmated alpha is an available alpha and you're not one to compete.

'she's so inadequate for a mate. he'll reject her soon.' they say. any time now and some other needy thing might just swoop in to take her place. someone who's deserving of it.

what a waste, you've gotten the attention of the most powerful alpha you've ever met and want nothing to do with it—a self-righteous omega who believes alphas should know better. why give in to such baser instincts, how primitive, how primal. moreso in this day and age when suppressants are readily available and cycles can be tracked to a T.

which is why you don't look back when his gaze lingers a bit too long. adding distance when he not-so-subtly attempts to leave his scent on you. going as far as to turn him down the first time he cages you in and offers—upfront and blatantly—to 'help you out' with your next heat. as if you were some charity case. "promise i won't bite," he teases you about your barren neck and inexperience, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"i'm not interested," you scoff, leaving him there with a hard-on in his pants and no relief. he might be a prized alpha but you won't entertain the idea of proving yourself. stroking his ego and preening for him. you were just as valuable of a partner despite being beyond your prime years with zero experience and still unmated.

••••••••••••••••••••

the only problem is that he won't take no for an answer.

he's made his choice among the other blurred faces and dull scents. been waiting a long time for someone as irresistible as you. "do you fear me?" he asks the moment you bend over his kitchen counter. he allows himself a peek at a round ass and soft hips, also to sniff at your scent permeating the air. omega. he knows as much. you make it pretty obvious with your distaste for alphas. but the sweet-scented slick between your legs is as telling.

geez. he thinks. those suppressants of yours are next to useless if you're already dripping this much within proximity to an alpha. not just any alpha either, sukuna's well aware you're beginning to fall for him. you want him so bad and it's so unfair. he's barely even touched you. but only because he's wondering if your underwear would survive the rest of the day. 'what if she's wearing a thong and her thighs get drenched too.' he grins like a wolf at the thought.

you admit with a heavy heart, "i'm more afraid of what i'm like with you." because how does one resist his advances. sukuna pushes the envelope just enough to make your knees buckle. his domineering aura makes everyone else cower in fear under a cold gaze but watch how it turns into a dreamy one when you push his face away after a kiss gets heated. his incisors poke you slightly like a teasing taunt and you find yourself fighting the pleasure.

"it's natural," he'll justify. how your body longs so desperately to belong to this alpha. succumbing to his...ferventness. his large, heated hands roaming over your breasts hidden underneath his shirt. the collar's too wide but it gives him room to wrap his fist delicately around your neck. you bite back an excited squeal when it feels so right.

••••••••••••••••••••

there's something off about him when sukuna returns home late that night. an unfamiliar scent lingers on his clothing and your stomach twist with a possessive feeling. the same one that eats you alive to the point of guilt. you smell it the moment he walks through the door of your bedroom. 

nothing like yours, it's not sharp enough to be daunting nor is it reminiscent of an alpha's scent. but it's potent. almost as if they were doing it on purpose. releasing their pheromones so he'd pick up on it, or worse, that you'd notice.

you try not to jump to any conclusions and you don't want to be jealous, but it's hard having your boyfriend come home with the smell of another omega on him.

you straddle him against the headboard with a hardened look on your face. involuntarily snarling as you peel his suit jacket off. shirt buttons coming apart under your rushed hands.

he grins at your ferocious display. reminds him of an angry kitten. he grinds his hips upwards, keeping you in place with steady hands. bouncing you on top of his clothed cock wasn't in the plans tonight, he thought he'd shower off the stench. it's not like it was strong enough to affect him.

but he tries to get you off instead, while he tries to get himself some self-control. "feel good?" he dares to question when you're practically losing your mind, a sudden spike of lust spurs in your belly, incited with just that little bit of friction. hoping feverishly that the scent of fresh arousal will be overridden by heat and breathy gasps through gritted teeth.

you're hardly in a headspace to reply but an eager nod shall suffice. "didn't think you'd be the jealous type," you feel him nipping at your ear, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, the slight graze of teeth against freshly washed and oiled skin,

"i'm not jealous—" you lie. holding back a moan when he rocks a little faster, writhing atop him in pleasure. your nipples have risen taut against your nightgown and it makes an incredibly lewd sight. sitting in his lap so compliantly.

“i'd want them to watch us,” he whispers and you'd never do such a thing but the idea turns you on. he tells you that back in ancient times they used to partake in mating rituals and bonding ceremonies. privacy was more a privilege then and so was having an audience. that other omegas and betas would know of their place. how insignificant they are, if only they could watch you now, pussy fluttering and juices leaking all over their prized alpha.

••••••••••••••••••••

sukuna watches your face as you come undone for the fourth time. shushes your sobbing cries with a gentle hand caressing your back. "you don't have to worry," he's too busy holding himself back to find another.

says he wants to do things on your own terms and timing. swears that he won't easily fall prey to the lingering sweet-scented air around you, perfumed syrup and sugar. gently skimming his lips and tongue over a soft nape, a supple shoulder. he'll settle for merely licking the flesh he wishes to sink his teeth into. a caress, a chaste kiss, but never bruising or breaking.

he swallows the protest to earn your approving smile in return. it's enough of a struggle seeing you prancing around unaffected while he's been dying to fuck you senseless. to do what's natural to him. "it's wrong for an unmated couple to live together," seems to be everyone else's motto and he'd like to laugh but there's a shred of truth to it. he realises that it's impossible when he wants to fuck all. the. time.

gritting his teeth and forcing a smile when he's hit with a waft of your scent, he knows you're turned on. you want it just as much—every heat spent away from him in separate rooms. he smells your slick calling out to him. hears your moans poorly muffled and overshadowed by the sounds of you fucking yourself. your pussy bare and gleaming, he'll get on his knees for a taste. prying your twitching thighs apart, forcing them open if he has to, his lips nibbling and sucking your clit til you're crying from the pleasure, thrumming his tongue so fast it drives you crazy. all for the tang of your squirt staining his tastebuds and mussed-up sheets below.

but he shouldn't live life by the balls. no matter how full and heavy they get with the need for release. preferably inside you, so deep and plenty he finds himself picturing it at random times of the day. zoning out in his office, in the middle of traffic. how full you'd look with your belly bulging out. would it drip between your pussy lips or should he plug you with his cock instead, refusing a single drop to leak.

still, he wills himself to stay within your bounds. being lustful and possessive isn't anything to be ashamed of. it's part of his makeup but he's more than that. two people are perfectly capable of looking beyond their sex and desires—or so you tell him.

••••••••••••••••••••

his rut arrives when his symptoms not-so casually appear in the middle of the week. pheromones and a temper not even you can subdue. he's biting into his knuckles from the arousal spurred on by great timing and comically predictable circumstances—just the smell and sight of you there, happily unaware and otherwise tempting.

maybe your expectations have been exceedingly high. you can't change his nature. but how dare he forbid you from entering the home you shared, spare keys hidden and passcodes altered. "leave—" he warns, then breathes a frustrated sigh, "—it's not safe."

not that he feels particularly sorry about his tone, but what separates him from you is but a door and a razor-thin resolve. he's at his limit. he won't survive this on suppressants alone. not with you looking the way you do. "how can i help?" you ask worriedly, wrecking your head over him. wanting to comfort and coddle. for someone who turns their nose up at omegan stereotypes, you're playing the part so perfectly it drives him mad.

because it's the worst experience for an alpha to go through a rut alone. you'd understand the pain of having to suppress a heat. all the years dealing with the fevers and cramps. milk leaking from your sore nipples wishing he'd be there to relieve the pressure. a nest of him and only him. grinding and burrowing within amber, musk, and spice. intoxicating, intense, chasing after the smell found in his sweat-drenched tee, a wrinkled white shirt bearing smoke and aftershave on its collar. snuggling his pillow and getting off with your fingers or a whirring toy at its highest speed, but it's not enough, never enough. pussy contracting on absolutely nothing.

his den is dark and moody when you step inside. slipping into a frenzied haze, there he lazes with legs spread on your shared bed big enough for four, it stretches wider than you remembered, or maybe it's that you've yet to see it in this light, waiting to be broken in and littered with your belongings. he's grabbed at them in a rush. whatever your scent clung to. your duvet, your stuffed toy, and pretty, day-old crimson panties gripped in the same fist he pumps his cock with.

the threads fray, soaked fabric snapping and stretching with every drag down his shaft. rip. rip. rippp. a hole tears through when he tugs too hard and that heavy thing slaps over his stomach with a resounding smack.

you see it for the first time and wonder why not sooner. the perfect dick hiding in plain sight. actually, that's not true. you just haven't seen it this up close and personal. but given the sneak peeks—when the steam clears in the shower and it hangs soft and hefty, the way it juts out of tight gym shorts, or just...the swell of it rubbing in between your ass cheeks when he gets needy—none of them could've prepared you for this.

sukuna thinks it’s so ugly and brutish. he's found many an opportunity to tell you so, even now as his head cranes backwards with a frustrated groan, a growl that rumbles from somewhere deep within. ”it's enough to scare off any omega—” he says, a knowing smirk on his face when he can practically smell the slick dribbling down your thighs, saturating your panties, "—but not you."

a thick vein throbs on the underside, tip bulging and a little darker than the shaft, girthy and gushing with precum. his balls are heavy, taut with tension under the soft skin, and you shudder at the thought of what his knot would look like...who would've thought that such a monstrous-looking thing would have this much of an effect on you. weak in the knees and stomach fluttering in anticipation. the way it seems oh so daunting, how are you meant to take all of that inside you. if he laid the entire thing right against your stomach, how far would it go? it'd be enough to knock the wind out of you.

you try to calm your nerves. it's just a rut. it'll be over in no time. quick and simple. although you've read plenty of stories and watched the videos to know this wouldn't be a passionate embrace. no tenderness or care for your pleasure let alone your comfort. you wish to believe that he'll be careful if not a bit rough. and maybe a part of you wants to please him. despite all your certainties, would it be so bad to make him feel good and satisfy his needs? would it be wrong to wish for his scent mark, and his bonding bite. to be claimed and chosen.

it's an expression you've never seen before. as if he wants to devour you. he won't explain himself as he makes you watch. turning you into a voyeur as the urge takes over him. hooded eyes locked on yours, his blown-out pupils and slobbering drool are enough evidence for you—he intends to mate.

whimpering his name does nothing to quell his madness or ministrations. he's so far gone you don't think he comprehends the things he says, "can't wait to knot you...breed you...been wanting to taste you for so long..." he purrs, low and rumbling from his chest. sharp teeth grazing against your earlobe teasingly but never biting down on the cartilage, just a light nibble that turns you into a shivering mess. he's caught you within his jaws and your instincts argue against your better judgement, you're beyond fighting and struggling now while your weak hands push against his hulking mass to no avail.

yet, it's thrilling. amazing even. an alpha pinned atop you and nowhere to run. his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, the back of your ear, both your arms lifted in his singlehanded grasp. he dives for every inch of skin, every spot that bears your aroma the strongest, going as far into the divot of your armpit while he's laving at the salt and sweat greedily. his saliva scenting sugar-sweet skin, marking you as his chosen victim. "you're so dirty—" is more of a plea for him to snap out of it. already embarrassed, exposed, and so eager.

he takes a pebbled nipple between his teeth and swirls his tongue around the tip of it. you're too distracted to realise he hadn't responded to your quip, because your scent told him all he needed to know, so did the soft whimper when he abandons one nipple, and the moan when he takes the other in his mouth.

there's a way to do things and sukuna's way is unmerciful. a man has never been this good at finding a clit, which is probably why his tongue won't leave it alone. he keeps his tongue broad until it comes out of hiding before he's got his lips wrapped around. he sucks on it languidly. pulls away just to spit and slaver, blow a raspberry for fun. marvelling at the drool and the mess you've made.

no time to waste when most of it was spent not eating your pussy. sukuna hums and hungrily feasts, tongue flicking frantically. your screams come out involuntarily, unable to hold back your moans coming out in short staccato bursts. a little panicked, but nonetheless agreeable. "something's happening! wait—" you hiss when it starts to burn a little. your hips lifting off the bed while his fingers keep prodding that special spot inside.

it only makes it all the more pleasurable when the pressure builds, when the squeeze feels so tight. you clench and feel every pass of his digits, every purposeful lick. "—kuna, i think i'm gonna—" his fingers quicken while his other forearm presses down on your pelvis to keep you in place and it's more than enough to make you come hard. gushing again and again, streaking the sheets and his smug expression.

"i've always wanted to do that," he admits cheekily. a face you can't stop admiring now that it's covered in your juices. your legs tremble and you can't catch your breath whilst he's leaving gentle kisses on your oversensitive lips, but he's far from finished with you.

with his cock leaking in his hold, he taps it on your sticky heat for good measure before gliding it back and forth, the opening of his cock prodding, getting caught on your clit as he slips in slow. with how thick he is, you feel every ridge and vein. gasping at the first push and fisting the sheets to try and accommodate.

unsurprisingly, it hurts just a pinch. "please,” you mewl, just that single word slipping past ragged breaths as you struggle. throat dry and crackly from the heaving and the foggy, post-orgasm haze. you don't know if you want him to stop or to go on but—"what if it can't fit?" you're genuinely concerned because it might not physically fit. already full to the brim, your pussy stretches so snugly around his shaft like a glove.

"there's a lot more to go," he hints at the rest of his cock he's yet to sheath inside you. "but we'll make it fit," a large palm rests over your womb as he swipes his thumb against your clit, hoping it'll ease the discomfort.

you nod weakly, whimpering "i trust you," but he's so big. you can feel your pussy trying to suck him in, a bead of sweat travels down your chest. mouth falling open as he slips in a little at a time, girth forcing your entrance to open wider. buries his cock in the one pussy he’s fantasized about the most and ruts like he's always wanted to.

••••••••••••••••••••

on the third day, you start getting restless. feeling sore and exhausted while running on no sleep and little bites of food. the room is in dire need of fresh air and the bed frame is on its last legs, but sukuna's urges grow stronger by the day. he barely manages to pull out to hydrate before he goes back to fucking you. always so slow and gentle, however, your moans and whines spill out, slowly but surely you succumb to every orgasm that rocks through you. wave after rippling wave.

still hard and throbbing the entire time. it's probably because every time your neck cranes upwards as an offering, baring your mating gland, he avoids it. fighting it. "why won't you knot me?" comes out sounding pouty and petulant but you don't care. your delectable scent slowly fades into a bitter note, anxiety and insecurity filling your voice. sukuna hasn't even tried to push it past your folds. steadily milking his knot outside of where it should be with his own hands is enough of a blatant rejection.

he reminds himself that he'd sworn to never let it go that far, knotting you would change everything, what if you couldn't see him the same way, that he was just another alpha who took you for himself. "i can't," guilt laces his voice and so does his frustration when his conscience appears from behind the pussy-drunk fog. his heart bleeding, his instincts yearning. 'i don't want to hurt you' is what he means. but what you hear in your dejected state is 'you won't be able to handle it.'

was it your inexperience that made him uninterested? you knew alphas liked them subservient, obedient. just like an omega should be. taking his knot without qualms. consummating in perfect rhythm. a tinge of pain shoots through your chest at the thought—sukuna could have any omega he wants, you've kept him waiting too long, you've made him doubt. you're not able to keep up, to please him, to be enough...despite giving in. despite trying your best to take him. he won't claim you,' says the voice in your head.

a whimper breaks from you at his words. you shouldn't have to ask, this was meant to be innate, instinctual, not something he has to restrain himself from. "aren't i your mate? don't i belong to you?" you sob, hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

he presses his forehead to yours, "you're gonna bleed, i might break you," he tries to explain, getting uncharacteristically soft in the moment. it's your fault for stumbling across a wounded beast. finding your way into his broken heart. binding the pieces back together while you soothe the aches and kiss his scars. 'yes you belong to me.' his beautiful omega who begs so nicely to be mated, if this is what you're like three days in, he longs to see what you're like in heat.

you shake your head, getting stubborn. you won't accept it and you're on the verge of clawing at him to get away. you've been ready at his mercy and what for. just to come out the other end dissatisfied and unfulfilled. fuck. you just want it to be done with. defile me, ravage me, you want him completely.

in an attempt to fight him, you let out a harmless threat, one you regret the moment it's uttered because you've gone too far—"if you won't do it, i'll find another alpha who will!"

suddenly, sukuna's thoughts are invaded by that sick thought. scenes of you naked and oozing slick. pinned beneath another alpha, his weight pressing into you along with his knot, glaring at him as he makes his claim the way he couldn't and it makes him snap.

the growling sound that leaves his mouth is a warning, and so is the hand that slips around your throat. large fingers coming together around your neck. the squeeze cutting your gasp short. it should frighten you, he could snap your neck as easily as it is to split a matchstick in half and right now, he seems just about ready to.

"careful now, omega," he spits out, teeth bared and demanding submission. forbidding and looming above you, his fist tightens ever so slightly. "you've forgotten your place," it seems you've misjudged your role and the precarious position you're in. fucked out in his den, in his bed. intentionally riling him up won't do you any good. no one touches you, scents you, or claims you but him no matter how your feet kick him uselessly, he doesn't move an inch.

"i'm sorry—" you pant, "i'll be good, i promise." you squirm and wriggle underneath, uncertain if you should run or relish in it. so ominous it turns you on even more. he's never put you in your place like this and you think you should make him jealous more often if it means he'd choke you out and go feral on your pussy.

"is that so?" he tries again. presses his cock in slowly inch by inch. feeling your pussy open up and yield to his girth. sukuna leans in close so he gets to watch your eyes roll back. bullies his way through with one deep thrust and finds himself balls-deep. "you want it so bad? want me to ruin this perfect pussy all because you wanna cum all over my knot, i won't stop til you're screaming and milking me dry—"

muscle memory forces your back to arch towards him. his broad chest against your nipples, delicious hot skin rubbing your hardened nubs the right way. he stills for a moment before he withdraws slowly, a mix of pleasure and anticipation coiling in your belly.

watching him, watching you. he looks down and groans at the obscene sight of cream and slick coating his shaft, viscous and too much to bear. the bulge in your tummy protrudes where his cock takes up all that space, rearranging your guts had never looked this lewd.

when his knot finally kisses your entrance, you feel it hot and prodding against you. desperate for him shove it in. to feel it pop through and nestle so deep, all the way to the hilt while he stays there and unloads himself inside you. balls twitching, sitting in a warm crook he’s found. your omega instincts sing at the thought of him filling you up. "knot me, breed me, my alpha—" you cry. begging for it, hot and immensely copious. a sticky mess all over, both the mattress completely drenched in fluids and your insides coated in his seed.

he feels the give of your womb, the tightness around the head of his cock. groaning at the sensation. just a little bit more and he'd be buried, finally. he fucks you violently, no holds barred. hands gripping your hips so achingly tight he might shatter your pelvis into pieces. you'll count the bruises later on but shall forgive him for the fact that he's cumming his brains out.

you're crying and babbling mindlessly, yes yes just like that. your limbs begin to shake as your peak edges closer, hand gripping his bicep while bracing yourself. wild and frantic hips jerking and shallow thrusts bumping and nudging against your cervix. striking deep and rocking you against the sheets.

your shivering doesn't go unnoticed and there he leans in to give your oiled and mouth-watering neck a final lick, shushing you with a gentle, calming kiss to your mating gland in preparation for his teeth.

and when he finally pushes his knot in, cock piercing your womb as your pussy clamps down viciously on its slim spot at the base, his teeth spears into your flesh with ease. there's the give of taut skin and tight muscle but soon he settles deep enough for blood to trickle and you come several times, pulsing and fluttering along multiple orgasms rolling in after the next, enough that you're shaking in his hold.

you cry and cry, overstimulated, sensitive, and so in love. not only with how full you feel but you surprise him with your own teeth sinking down into his trapezius, not too deep into muscle but just enough to leave tiny dents in his skin. your chattering jaw and slippery lips can't find purchase while you're preoccupied with whining his name. so you try again, this time closer to his neck.

sukuna catches on to your efforts and finds it all the more endearing. helping you find the perfect spot, he manoeuvres his neck closer while you give him light nibbles and sharp pinprick nips here and there but they're all too soft to pierce the skin. "do it," he pants, "mark me anywhere, i'm yours."

it must be his words that urge you but you think it's more to do with the greed roiling inside you. you want to leave a mark that he'd never be able to cover up. by the time he's grinding his knot into you again, pulling at your hips and guiding you on it like a toy, milking him of whatever's left, your lips part around the front of his neck without any more hesitation. inhaling his scent deeply, the vibrations of his groans rattling against your teeth, before biting down on his throat. teeth embedded deep and tongue lapping at his bobbing adam's apple.

he leans in to kiss you filthy and open-mouthed, tongues swapping spit and bloody iron while your thumbs caress his jaw and neck, adding a little pressure to the spot where his freshly bitten mating gland throbs quickly. a hummingbird wingbeat beneath your fingertips.

[merelydaydreaming]

Ginoza Nobuchika | Psycho Pass Providence

[merelydaydreaming]

nonchalant boyfriend sae, except he secretly is super clingy. he’s just perpetually unbothered when it comes to speculation on your relationship with him through the eyes of the media. there’s paparazzi pics that had people clutching their pearls; the two of you went out for a run, and while catching your breath, sae goes behind you to pull out your lip balm from the inner waistband pocket of your leggings. no one knows this, though, so it literally looks like he’s just casually reaching down your leggings, in broad daylight, to cop a feel. the worst part is the fact that he won’t address it until his managers force him to explain. what’s harder to explain is when you were trying to take a cute mirror video of you two during a date night. he’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, hands resting against the flat of your stomach, and it’s almost sweet, until one of his large hands travels a bit downwards and he literally taps his hand against the area between your thighs. you accidentally posted the video & deleted it within seconds but your followers are quicker. someone screen recorded it and sae’s publicity team doesn’t know how to respond to all the “NOT THE KITTY TAPS IN THE DAMN ELEVATOR😩😩”

[merelydaydreaming]

not to be like that but the cat skins in this new season of fortnite are kinda fine 🙈

[merelydaydreaming]

Me + Itoshi bros threeway kiss

[merelydaydreaming]

The most viral clip of Dynamight is not a battle or some heroic moment. It's a tiktok interview.

The influencer is known for giving proheroes a bit of a hassle while off the clock; she tripped up Sero on his morning run, she's made Ochako go fully pink on her way home from work-

And she ran into Bakugo at the grocery story.

"Mr. Murder-"

Bakugo doesn't even blink at first. He's too busy inspecting a couple bok choy to even notice her presence. She has to get close for him to turn around

"Lord Murder-" The woman shoves her little microphone into his face and CLEARLY gets a bit of a rise out of Bakugo with that. He yanks his ear bud out with a 'hah?'.

"You're my favorite hero, Mr. Murder."

"I'm your favorite hero?" Bakugo's lip pulls up in confusion. "Really? What the fuck's wrong with you?"

He slips his ear bud back in and returns to his vegetables. "Pick a better favorite, damn."