#tw; somnophilia

[terrence-silver]

What if beloved had a severe case of narcolepsy?(aka sleeping beauty disorder)

Isn't it perfect? A dream come true?

A beloved that sleeps, or spends time sleeping, almost half or the entire day. Beautiful. Untarnished. Undisturbed by any staff or anyone but him. A lot of people validly never even saw beloved. Always there and available for Terry only. In Terry's web. Literally speaking, in his bed all the time. Possibly the only ailment of beloved's Terry would not in fact treat or seek out medical help for, finding it plays into his somnophilliac tendencies immaculately, and also, his need to control. Be in charge of everything. Really, being in charge of someone who's out cold for so long is like a godsend. Is it wrong? Is it morally questionable? That he arranges most everything in his and beloved's private spaces around beloved's sleep? A shameless amount of pillows, cashmere covers, soft bed curtains, lovely mattresses, a tray of food and beverages awaiting beloved when they wake, scented candles and floral arrangements, the color coded order of things that induces drowsiness, lounges in the garden set in such a way beloved might doze of before the staff alerts him to it and they world perfectly poised to exist between dreams and reality; Terry relishes in this because it appeals to something pathological inside of him. If beloved is always asleep, beloved cannot be stolen, coaxed away, taken or ripped away from him, and so he encourages their case. They sleep even more than they need to, possibly, because he deems it should be so. And who's to question Terry Silver? Naturally, there is an agreement between Terry and beloved; an agreement that this relationship still is very much consumed in spite of beloved having narcolepsy. He pleasures them, pleasures himself on them, takes whatever he needs and gives them whatever they need, and then they wake with a pleasant grogginess (hopefully, dreaming of only him), he's right there, in the flesh, hungering for more. He is in effect like a vampire feeding off of every waking hour beloved gives. But, is there also a certain regret that the best way to remain in control, the best control of beloved, is also one that robs him of most time with beloved?

Yes.

It is difficult live a full life with such a disorder.

For most ordinary people. Of course, Terry is no ordinary man.

His boundaries, morals, worldviews and limitations are most extraordinary.

Turns out, Terry is in effect, perhaps, morbidly and perversely content with this state of things, finding that, hey, everything comes with a price, and sometimes, the price of ultimate and almost willing authority over someone who needs and wants your care, a care you imposed on them as absolutely crucial is that your second half will have the Sleeping Beauty syndrome which you absolutely feed into. That is a price Terry Silver can easily manage, because it is more a reward to him than anything else at times. Naturally, he still somehow manages a way to have dates, activities, a full-on sexual life and even offsprings with beloved. Where there's a will, there's a way.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; narcolepsy #tw; somnophilia #tw; questionable ethics

[viviaj]

its 6:57 in the morning and you can vaguely feel kuroo’s cock pressing against you.

with his hand pressed against your soft stomach, he silently presses against your back. you’re not really awake, but you’re not exactly asleep either.

kuroo loves morning sex, he likes to feel you and hear your whiny sounds as your eyes struggle to adjust to the early light— as they adjust to him intruding your peaceful sleep.

he’s a pervert, he thinks for a moment; wanting to press his fingers into you while you’re barely awake. he thinks he should feel guilty, but you always react so dubiously that he can’t help himself.

with his cock still rubbing against you methodically, he reaches for your little shorts and slips his hand down to your soft sweet cunt.

he runs his hand over your thighs, and every part where you connect with him. it’s not enough.

he’s slipping a hand between your folds, gently feeling you. there was no intent to get you off; just a pure moment of wanting to feel you and touch you. he slips a single finger into you and its him groaning into your shoulder.

“baby?” he murmurs against you and a small noise comes from the back of your throat, “you’re so soft,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“i have to, baby,” he’s sitting up and gently prying your legs apart, “i have to put my cock in you baby, okay?”

he’s not really asking, more so just letting you know. he’s not wearing a condom.

your body twitches up into him as he enters you, just letting himself feel around you. your hands move up to his arms as you murmur that he “shouldn’t”.

“i don’t see you making much of an effort to stop me,” and you just let yourself whine, eyes pressed closed as kuroo is everywhere on you.

“but we shouldn’t, kuroo, we can’t,” he thinks it’s funny when you act like this because as soon as he takes his cock out, you’ll whine and groan, just like you are now. you’re so predictable.

so he does that. he moves down to your neck, kissing you lightly over, and over again. “just the tip, please. please?” you’re begging, just like he knew you would. he loves you.

“oh? just the tip?” you nod quickly, “okay baby, just the tip.”

it is not just the tip.

with one hand, he’s holding your legs up; giving himself the world-class view of watching his cock disappear into your pretty pussy.

you’re breathtaking like this. smooth, and sweet and pretty. he can’t help himself, and how could you even blame him? not when he’s so close to you, and so sweet to you as he’s smiling down at your batting eyes.

“what is it? talk to me, baby,” no words come out, just a soft hiccup coming from your lips. “you don’t have to do anything, you’ve done enough,” his eyes soften with the softness in his smile; which do not correspond to the way hes moving in and out of you.

kuroo and you have never fucked without a condom before, and it shows. it feels so intensely different, with the knowledge that this is something you shouldn’t be doing, it’s explosive.

“gonna cum in you, yeah? just let me take care of you.”

“kuroo, we- we can’t, we shouldn’t,” you’re pathetically murmuring, hips moving up towards him. everything you’re saying is contradicting your actions, it’s silly.

“okay baby, yeah, i won’t, dont worry, ” kuroo lies. with your face buried into his neck, you mouth at the skin there, unable to say much.

he tells you how good you feel, how your cunt is so soft and he just can’t help it.

“you’re so warm,” you whine into him, the feeling of him cumming in you foreign, it doesn’t feel right.

kuroo reaches down to kiss you wherever he can manage to reach you, his arms keeping you where you are.

“good morning.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu men #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo meow #this was soooo self indulgent #tw somno #but not really #overuse of the word baby #cw somnophilia

[toxicanonymity]

that scream blurb that you posting about Ghostface being unconscious and the reader testing to see if he’s hard…. you have to make the full fic now pleaseee omg it was so good

Every inch

1.4k / m!ghostface x f!reader / from blurb.

SEQUEL: EVERY INCH 2 🔪 THREEQUEL: 3

Slasher master list

Warnings/notes: I8+ noncon (ghostface unconscious) somnophilia. Based on the car scene from Scream II, but it's modern day (cell phones exist).  You can HC this as anyone but he's night walks coded if you read my other stuff.

Your skirt grazes his robe as you carefully stretch your right leg over the driver’s seat, trying not to touch him, trying not to wake him up.  It’s tricky crawling over Ghostface to get out of the car.  He smells faintly of weed and sweat.  You’ve never been close enough to smell him before. You’ve never been close to him at all for more than a few seconds, always with his knife in hand.  You hear him breathing behind the mask and assume he’s knocked out from the impact of the crash, but can't know for sure. 

He could be pretending for his own amusement, planning to taunt you then stab you at any moment. You’re going to have to open that car door sooner or later - it’s the only one left you haven’t tried.  It'll definitely make a noise. You hover there straddling him, delaying the inevitable. Straddling Ghostface, you think to yourself. Is this a nightmare? 

You slowly lower yourself into his lap, throbbing at the possibilities of what might await you.  Your heart pounds in your chest.  You put your hands on the edge of the seat to pull your body  closer and your heart nearly stops as  your inner thigh softly nudges  his hand.  But he doesn’t wake up – or if he does, he doesn’t show it.  Emboldened, you lower yourself a little more until your damp panties arrive at a warm bulge in his robe and your breath hitches.  He’s only somewhat hard,  but obviously packing.  He still doesn’t move.  His chest is rising and falling with his breaths.  You know he’s alive.  Unable to resist, you lower yourself a little more.  You tilt your hips and gently grind yourself against his package.  

What if the nightmare became a wet dream? It’s always turned you on, at least a little, but especially lately.  It’s been harder and harder to separate arousal from fear.  You’ve wondered if it was a sexual thing for him, the way he pursues you.  Stabbing is penetrative after all.  Does the thought of killing you turn him on? Would it turn him on to wake up to you straddling him?  After all, he’s only a man.  Why not, you think.  This could be your best chance to find out.  This might be the most power you’ll ever have in the situation.  You’re turned on thinking about it.  If you’re mere seconds from potential death, you have nothing to lose.  Plus you're curious what's under all this, and it's too risky to lift up his mask.

Fuck it feels good, and the fact that it’s Ghostface, the one who’s been stalking you, killing your friends, trying to kill you - that gives you such a rush.  The tables have turned.  You’re on top of him now.  You look around for his knife and it’s landed on the floorboard along with his voice changer.  You reach down to grab it then quickly stab it into the back of the driver’s seat at an angle so you can grab it if you need to but he won’t know where it is.  Then you return your crotch to his and a bolt of arousal slices through you when his hard package swells against you.  Holy shit he's hung. You slowly roll your hips against him, grinding into him, trying not to be too aggressive, but it’s hard to control yourself. 

-

His breathing changes and your heart jumps to your throat. You wonder, Is Ghostface seduceable? It might be your best shot if you're already getting his dick wet when he wakes up.  But there's always the chance he reacts violently, and now that you're up against him, it's clear you'd be no match for his strength.

Then you have a thought.  You carefully lift his gloved hand, and he doesn’t react.  You lift the dead weight of his heavy arm all the way above his mask, and he still just sits there, breathing.  You pin both his hands above his head, between the metal pegs of the headrest. His hands are large and the two of them together barely fit through the gap.  Then you slam down the headrest, pinning him there by his wrists.

His mask moves.  He seems to look at you.  Then a soft, low sigh.  You lower your crotch again and he’s harder.  You rub yourself against him slowly with your hands braced on the seat and have to stifle a moan in the shoulder of your dress as you grind against him and his cock swells even harder.  A soft groan muffled by his mask makes you wetter.  

You’re going to have to have him.  This is your chance and you can’t resist it.  Your inner thigh muscles begin to fatigue as you push yourself off his lap to hover again.  You lift up his robe, exposing PJ pants. Strange and not at all imposing, but convenient.  You arrange the robe behind his raging erection, then take a deep breath and pull down his waistband.  His stiff member stands at attention. You cover it with your warmth before the cool air wakes him up. A stab of desire shoots through your core as your wet panties meet his hard cock.  You rub yourself against him and your clit throbs.  Your core aches to be filled. 

You pull your panties to the side and nestle the swollen head of his cock at your entrance.  Then you sink down and fail to suppress your gasp at the stretch.  He moans but doesn’t move.  Your body makes way for him as you slide down and sheathe him entirely with your cunt.  His cock is nice and thick, it makes you feel so full.  It’s crazy this cock has been under the robe the entire time.  You wonder if you could just fuck from now on.  If he’d agree not to kill you - that is, if the threat of it doesn't turn him on.

You rise up, then sink down on him again, his size making you grateful for your ample wetness.  You lift and lower yourself and roll your hips into him. You try not to breathe too heavily as you feel it building in your lower belly.  You start to ride him less restrained, unable to resist fucking yourself on his nice, hard cock.  

-

His mask begins to move as though confused, and he grunts as he tugs at his arms,  unable to free them from the headrest.  He’s groggy and weak.  You’re not going to stop. You're too close to coming.  You greedily keep filling yourself to the brim with him.

His mask looks right at you. “Always wanted this cock,” ghostface says weakly, making your heart race.  “Knew it.”  Then it echoes from the voice changer on the floorboard.  Always wanted this cock.  Knew it.   He tugs at his hands more violently, then gives up.  

“Nasty girl,” he says, voice getting stronger.  Nasty Girl. 

He thrusts his hips up powerfully and you moan uninhibited. He thrashes his arms and stabs upward with his cock, bouncing you on his lap with the power of his hips.  Your whole body tingles and tenses, then you bite your own arm as your walls clamp down around him.  You come on his dick, then pull yourself off and he groans in frustration but has no way of getting you back.  

You open the car door and you’re torn about whether to make him come or leave him with blue balls.  You decide to jerk him off as a power move.  You kneel into the open door frame of the car.  You wrap your hand around his girth and fuck his fist.  “All ya had to do was ask,” he says.  All you had to do was ask.  You grab the voice changer and throw it down the street.  Now he's nothing but a man with his dick in your hand.

“Woulda given you every inch," he says. Maybe every inch of his blade.  He nods down to his crotch. "Now you know." His voice is coming back to full strength, smooth and low. It's a voice you can't quite place.

You know you should stab him while you have him tied down, but you're thinking with the wrong head now, unable to bear the thought of this cock going to waste. You slow your hand way down and edge him mercilessly.  His big, stiff cock twitches in your hand and you can tell he's dying for more.

You take your phone out of your bra and take a short video of him trying not to whimper, dick sprouting out of his unimposing pajama pants.  Then you finish him off and take a dick pic selfie with cum all over his robe.  You take the knife out of the back of the seat and leave him stuck in the car.

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Even if you're reading this way later I would love to know your thoughts in a comment! Knowing what you liked helps me write more. 🖤🖤

Thanks @darkscape for helping me brainstorm his tagline. 

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #slasher smut #slasher fanfiction #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw somnophilia #night walks #ghostface #slasher fucker #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #mickey altieri #dark fic #ghostface ☠️

[konigsblog]

cw: consensual-somnophilia. 18+

saw someone talk about this in my inbox, and it's been plaguing my mind since. :(

könig who summons succubus-reader due to his loneliness.

könig is in the middle of his forties, without a wife, or even a girlfriend. of course, he's been to prostitutes and has watched cam girls and pornography numerous times -- although, he craves something more, desires the ownership and possession of a girlfriend. instead of going out and meeting women, or putting himself onto dating apps, he takes a much more depraved route. he summons an incubus, going to sleep with the hopes he'll wake up to a demon jerking him off, or taking his slick, bulbous cock so well.

and it happens...

he's awoken to the pulsating and throbbing sensation of his hard cock, the warmth and wetness of your wet, gummy walls tightly wrapped around his meaty cock. he's shaking with anticipation and arousal, trembling and breathing laboriously, unable to catch his breath as you giggle softly, holding his wrists down. you look so soft as you grind down onto his lengthy, veiny shaft, your soft breasts bouncing as you get off to the large and thick feeling of his hung dick.

könig's hands are held down beside his head, feeling himself grind skywards into you, pleading for more through guttural growls, sticky balls pressed firmly against your tight rear, cumming so quickly as he'd missed the sensation so badly. ;(

waking up to his boxers sticky and soaked with his hot, sticky fluids, huffing and puffing as he fantasies about the moment, unsure whether he has a wet dream, or you really visited him that night. :(

#orla speaks #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x y/n #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n #tw: somnophilia #konig smut #könig smut #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig mwii

[diejager]

Imagine Pervy!Roommate! König has a friend over - Horangi - when you're squirreling around the flat in shorts and an oversized short from König. Horangi ends up as smitten with you as König first was, and as a sign of friendship and camaraderie, let's Horangi stay the night to fuck your tight hole before he creamed all over it with his big cock.

Horangi stretches your wet and filthy count our for König's cock, leaving you dirtier and limp more pronounced the next day as they sit at the dining table, watching you wobble to the bathroom.

Horangi leaves that afternoon, smitten, satisfied and with a pretty pair of lingerie in his pocket from your drawer, caked with his dried cum. He hopes König will invited him over soon, so that he can have a taste of your sweet, puffy cunt. He hopes König will let him stay longer the next time around.

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #mw2 smut #horangi smut #horangi x reader #kim horangi hong jin #horangi #konig x reader smut #könig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig x reader smut #konig x reader #konig #könig #horangi x reader x könig #tw: somnophilia #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #pervy!könig #pervy!konig

[merakiui]

never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then— 

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: baby trapping #tw: somnophilia

[dolliestfairy]

Yandere Vampire Men x Chubby!Nun!reader

𑁍 Tw; Stalking, Monster-Fucking, Obsessiveness, Somnophilia, Noncon/dubcon, breeding kink (?), biting(obv), harshy grabbing, blood mentioned, virginity-take, the words 'rotten', implied murdering & religious theme. dead dove. Chubby Reader Fics With No Skintone Of Reader Mentioned.

This is a dark yandere fanfiction. if you dont like it then just block me ;) ୧₊˚

୨୧💭 thinking abt yandere!vampire!men who is obsessed with chubby!nun!reader. yandere!vampire!men whos freezing heart is now stuck with you. yandere!vampire!men whos colded heart is melting from fluttering once his eyes meet your plump & round appereance. yandere!vampire!men who eats all the other nuns & peoples who talked down on you. no creature ever should tell you what to do or else he'll rip their jaws off and snatched their ribs open. yandere!vampire!men who wants you to be his spouse, he wants you to be with him forever in the dead life! isnt that sound so spectacular my dear? yandere!vampire!men whos hands likes to touch your big ol thighs while you were sleeping, rubbing them softly up and down. at first it was belly, but the way of where he placed his hands is getting lower as he touch your thighs and later on his hands would touch your pussy and rubbing it softly within his fingers. putting his fingers in the middle of the entrance of your pussy lips. yandere!vampire!men who soon enough is inside you while you're half unconscious. whispering in your ears of how he is your savior and later on you'll get to marry him in the after life in which you just nod while your body is basically served his own. yandere!vampire!men who harshly grabbed your waist and stretch it apart, grabbing it so hard you can really feel his claws makes a pattern of it. it was feeling hurt enough to make you yelp until he start to put his fangs into your neck. pushing through your flesh while the blood slowly came out of the holes where his fangs made. slowing his thrust speed as you felt your body go warm and warm, until your vision start to become more and more blur, when your vision was starting to look white as you passed out at the chruch in the middle of the night where you just handed your virginity over someone or some 'creature' that you dont even know about. as your head and vision slowly and slowly become more unconscious, where you heard the creature muttering "finally, you are mine now."

Those Cold-blooded Vampires Are ;

OBITO UCHIHA, RYOMEN SUKUNA, Geto Suguru, Mahito, Nanami, Sasuke uchiha, VLAD TEPES, Hades, Sae Itoshi, Bachira, HOSHIGAKI KISAME, Mikey, Eren, Jack The Ripper, Kuroo Tetsuro, Semi Eita, Tsukishima Kei, Suna Rintarou, ITTO, Dottore, WRIOTHESLEY, Diluc, Zhongli, Kakashi Hatake, EVERY DIABOLIK LOVERS MEN, Buddha, Johan, Tendou, Oikawa & MALLEUS.

#chubby reader #plus size reader #fanfic #anime x chubby reader #yandere #yandere x chubby darling #yandere x female reader #yandere vampire #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #tw.monsterfucking #tw.somnophilia #tw: somnophilia #tw: monster fucking #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #naruto smut #naruto x reader #obito x reader #kakashi x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #diabolik lovers x reader #malleus x reader #tsukishima kei smut #tsukishima x reader #kisame x reader #kisame is my husband

[gremlingottoosilly]

and and and... incubbus konig with somno and size kink!! i read about incubbus and it says incubbus haunt virgins in their sleep.

-🎀

You're such a precious little human. Your mind filled with desire you dare not to act upon. All the porn listings filling your laptop, the fanfics you were reading - home invasions, night intruders, the fear of someone breaking into and making you theirs so you could never resist...honestly, Konig never had someone as pure on the outside and dirty on the inside ever since the church lost majority of influence over people. He is not a normal incubus, of course - not as self-assured as his kind, mostly going to the dreams of shy and nervous men to make them act upon their urges and commit sins of lust and anger. You were too innocent for his usual tastes, your energy almost too pure - you needed someone who would work carefully, expanding your interests and making a good girl go bad and completely lost in the nights of debauchery...or at least you seemed good. He could read your mind, all of your lewd thoughts - how much you wanted for someone big, someone handsome and completely fictional to just take charge and... Your sleeping form is too perfect to resist, you know. He can't manifest physically unless you're inviting him, but he can do lots of other things...putting you to sleep and entering your dream is easy for a creature of darkness like him - and he can't wait to sate your lust once he is sure you're all sprawled on your bed and helpless. Fucking your weeping cunt senselessly as you don't even understand what is happening - you're sleeping, of course, so he can ignore such trivial things as lube or preparation. His monstrous cock enters your pussy with ease, with so little resistance it's almost no fun - but you're squeezing him as tight as possible. You have a slight bump on your lower tummy that grows bigger every time he slams into your helpless, sleeping body. Konig drags his claws all around your form, making you shiver - but you can't force him out of your dreams, no matter how much you want this. The pleasure is too much for someone as small and helpless, but Konig is sure he knows what to do...and when you squirm under him and finally admit that you want...no, need him, he could manifest in reality and take your virginity for real.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #tw: somnophilia

[cockhungrycatboy]

fuck me while im sleeping so i wake up with your cock pounding into me and involuntarily making the dirtiest fucking noises until you cum inside me

#catboy meows #ns/ft #ftm ns/fw #trans ns/fw #t4t nsft #queer nsft #somno #cw somnophilia #somno fantasy #cnc somno #tw somno #somno breeding

[terrence-silver]

“bed. now”

for old an angry, broody, domineering old man terry? 🥴

―

Why leave the bedchamber?

What was the use in that?

Terry never understood, where you were concerned, and it started out with deliberately small things, he makes note; him encouraging you to rest longer. Lay in. Indulge in frequent naps. Cultivate, for the lack of a better word, abject laziness under his watchful eye. Yes, laziness. If you were lazy because he trained it into you, inch by inch, encouraged that attitude in you, decadent like an inebriated, drowsy disciple of Bacchus, you'd stay put, and if you stayed put, you were his in a definitive sense. The intentional atrophy of will and motivation, like a muscle seldom used. -”Bed. Now.”- Terry would often command you, even in the middle of the day, not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You had nothing to do. That's what he paid people for. He was wealthy enough to pull it off. All you had to do is wait for him. Be his. Bring him happiness. That was what your goal ought to have been. Worry about getting fucked by him. Serving him. Being his house pet. His love.

And sleeping.

Long and frequently.

Until days blend into weeks, weeks into months.

Months into years.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #yandere #old man terry #tw; somnophilia #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved

[tteokdoroki]

somno w/ nagi 😞😞💔 he’s so spent and exhausted after the longest day of practice, but his body betrays itself as soon as you press back against his tall frame. he ruts into you, breathy in your ear and hard in his boxers, and it doesn’t take him long at all, not when you feel so warm and inviting and soft. but it’s alright, he can be motivated by the right things after all — and best believe the way you whimper for him so sweetly does it for him. fully awake now, he will make sure to take proper care of you, just like you always do to him, even when half asleep still :(

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— late night lovin' + seishiro nagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — nagi loves the way you look in his bed late night after practice. but he loves the way you crave him in your sleep even more.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, heavy smut, established relationship, somnophilia, dry humping, cockwarming, creampies, unprotected!sex, soft dom + pro player!nagi  not beta read ! - fem!reader.

⭑ words — 2.5K.

⭑ notes — thank u for indulging my brain rot, truly love him sm !! also first time writng him pls be kind and im sorry this took so long shbs! - m.list✩

seishiro nagi hates when practice runs late.

exhaustion settles into his bones far too quick for his liking, listening to feedback from ego and the others feels like a bore and he can hardly feel bothered to grab something to eat with the team on the way home. he just about manages to shower at the stadium before making it back and by the time he does— you’re there, in his bed like he wants you to be.

seishiro nagi loves to see you sprawled across his sheets after practice.

he’d given you a key to his place after deciding it was too much of a hassle for you to drive over after his training or for him to come pick you up — it was easier if you could make yourself at home. nagi forgoes turning on the lights as he enters the master bedroom, dropping his duffle bag at the entryway after noticing that you’d fallen asleep. probably while you were waiting for him.

you’re so pretty like this, peaceful, curled up amongst seishiro’s expensive cotton linens and duvet. adorable, wearing one of his older team jerseys – the tops of your perfect pudgy thighs just peeking out from under its material.

slipping into bed behind you is easy for seishiro nagi.

the white-haired striker strips off his gear layer by layer and crawls under the blankets to join you, his bare chest snug against your back and an arm slung over your waist lazily.

your response to his closeness is almost instantaneous, pressing yourself back against nagi and finding comfort in his presence behind you despite not being able to see him in the dark. “sei—“ you whimper, soft and needy, the tendrils of sleep still clinging onto you. so cute. nagi thinks you’re so fucking cute. searching for his warmth like this. even while you rest. 

you like how he smells, he remembers. that’s why you lean into him like he’s a safety net. why he showers using a body wash with a scent so delicate it could almost be fabric softener and why you wear his clothes whenever you have the chance. the smell of cedarwood and seishiro nagi is comforting to you, especially when he’s away.

not that he minds, not that it necessarily bothers the striker. he likes it, loves to see you bare the very symbol of his passion. the one thing he loves aside from you – soccer.

you visibly relax when he wraps another strong arm around your shoulders and squeezes you close, making you feel small and safe. your pout loses itself in the sleepy babbles that lay on on your lips and crease between your brows fades too. 

“sei…?”

“shhh, angel. s’just me,” nagi coos quietly, tucking his face into the back of your neck with his lashes fluttering against it. he just wants to sleep, fall away from the world with you but his body betrays him, annoyingly so. you’re too soft, too warm, to precious for nagi to resist and it’s a little bothersome that he can’t help it.

he’s hard before he even knows it, the heavy outline of his dick pressed against your pert ass– your body pulsing to life back into your boyfriend’s grip to get comfortable once more. he’s exhausted too but maybe it would help to fall asleep like this– if he wore himself down by grinding into you, dragging his hips back and forth, slow and steady so his erection slides through your cheeks from behind.

seishiro’s breathing gets a little heavier, hot and ragged against your bare skin, his grip on you tighter and his cock weighty and wet behind the fabric of his boxers. over the blood pumping through his ears, as full of adrenaline as it would be on the pitch, he hears you whimper out for him – a sound so sweet that he can’t ignore it.

you’ve always had some kind of hold over nagi, one that he can’t ignore. one that pushes him past his limits. the right thing is always able to motivate him, and the way you mewl out for him in your sleep, your body following his lead in a soft, sensual bump and grind is exactly the kind of thing that drives him forward.

you make things a little easier for him, you always do, stretching a leg forward so nagi has better access to the treasure between your thighs. his reward for working so hard today. “ngh…s-sei…” you mumble again, back arching into his chest on its own accord when he pulls his chubby cock out, smearing his arousal along your backside and right over the crotch of your panties.

“keep quiet pretty girl,” the white haired player whispers, as if there’s anyone around to hear you both. maye its that selfishness that’s been instilled in him, the ego, per say but he wants to keep you to himself. “i’ll take care of it from here, ‘kay?”

every ounce of you, every sound you make, every twitch and shift of your body to keep up with his. it’s his to keep. you’re his to keep.

and seishiro nagi loves that.

“uh-huh,” you’re awake now but just barely, parting your thighs to make room for your boyfriend while he grinds into the heat of your core with the same energy you’d expect from a dog in rut. “y’so big sei…” you gasp like you’ve taken a bullet to the heart when nagi’s seedy tip brushes so deliciously against your clothes and swollen clit – his movements precise yet lax, his breath behind you hot, ragged yet soft as it coasts over your skin. 

“mm, you can take it…”

“m-more, need more. s-sei—!”     

“said to keep quiet, angel.” nagi grunts while his fingers dance up to tap at your lips. “gimme your mouth. c’mere.” you part them like a good girl, dazed as you follow nagi’s needy command and let him slide two digits against your tongue, keeping your mouth pacified and full. it would be enough to put you back to sleep if you wanted.

you’re so good even when you’re barely conscious, sucking on nagi’s fingers and letting him have his way with you. he’s getting annoyed, not with you. never with you. there’s just too many obstacles in his way, too much interfering with reaching his goal and making you feel good. 

too many layers of clothes, too many blankes and it’s really starting to piss him off. 

“lift your leg, ‘m gonna get these clothes out of the way. what a bother.” seishiro pants wetly into the junction between your neck and shoulder. he works a hand between your bodies, not stopping the lazy roll of his hips from behind, and kicks off the blanket. his sweats are to follow, then your shirt is pulled up enough for his large palm to settle on your tummy, just above the hem of your underwear.

nagi lets out a satisfied hum once your panties are off. you’re so wet for someone so tired but pride bristles in his chest– knowing that only he can get you sticky and soaked like this even when you’re tiptoeing the line between sleeping and being awake. 

he wastes no more time, running the length of his creamy cock through the slickness of your puffy folds before easing himself past your fluttering entrance – taking him so well and so easily. he stills for a moment, a shudder shooting down his spine because nagi can never quite get used to having your warmth wrapped around him while your cute little cunt drools down his dick.

seishiro plants wet, open mouthed kisses across your shoulders and neck, hooking his arm under your leg before he starts to move– revelling in your squeals of pleasure that echo around his fingers. “‘mph…angel, so…t-tight,” the words are stuttered, but drawn out in a low and sexy tone that makes you clench down hard. just catching on nagi’s cockhead each time it pulls out of you.”s’not fair. you’re not…fuck, you’re not fair t’me angel.”

even though he’s set the pace, slothully fucking up into your gooey insides, balls tapping lightly at the curve of your ass– you still have an ungodly amount of control over nagi, making his large body curl over yours and reducing him to a sex-crazed mess, a mop of sweaty white hair and muffled moans. 

he chases your soaked, salacious pussy impulsively, hips twitching up to meet the back and forth of your own– bearing down on the spongy spot inside of you that makes you go wild.

the world around you both grows hotter and hotter, nagi practically drooling against your back while his fingertips on his freehand sink into your fleshy thighs to leave their mark— tugging you back onto his dick every time he pulls out, only to sink back in. “feels good. so warm. keep me inside, pretty girl,” he tells in a dreamy sigh, you and through the fog of your sleep, squeezing around the thickness at nagi’s base where he stretches you open. 

your boyfriend rewards you with the same treatment, giving you more of what you crave and buries himself up to the hilt— deep within your velvet walls, smearing precum along your most sensitive spots. you gargle around his fingers, happy but drowsy and force yourself to circle your ass back onto nagi’s cock so that you lose your minds together.

lust sparks between your sweat drenched bodies in the dead of night, accompanied by the symphony of wet slaps and sticky skin on skin. it’s intoxicating how your cunt squelches with every thrust and languid jut from his slender hips. nagi is lazy and loving, desperate and hungry for the prize of your pleasure.  

“sei. w’na cum,” you bleat, needier and more aroused than before when he finally pulls his digits from your drooling mouth. the white haired striker streaks your viscous salvia across your chin and down the front of your body until he hits the pulsing nub between your ruined pussy lips.

his eyelashes flutter right behind your ear, the striker’s low moans echoing into them and sending dopamine in a hot rush across your sleepy brain. arousing it. “so soon? just a little longer…s-shit… ‘m not there yet.”

truth be told, it wouldn’t take much more for nagi to cum— there’s too much going on that overwhelms him. the glisten of his cock as it escapes the snugness of your sloppy sex, the way you cry out for him, the mental image of your face that he can’t see. how your expression is probably twisted into something so delirious with ecstasy.

he could cream your insides right now, fill you up until it’s leaking out of you, staining your thighs and the sweater of his that you wear…but instead he pulls back the hood of your clit— circling the rough pad of his thumb into the sensitive little bud just to draw it out. make the night last longer. 

“o-oh fuck! sei!” your voice is broken and husky, making his skin flush and his dick throb within the embrace of your sluice and addictive walls. you’re barely awake and you’ve got the white- haired soccer player fucked out beyond comprehension. “f-faster.” 

“nuh-uh, wait f’me angel. please.” if you beg for him any more, especially with that tone, he might burst. give you his load before he’s done toying with you, spreading the filthy mix of your arousals over your clit in the shape of his name— with the hopes of bringing you closer to your high. “wan’ you creamin’ on me first. gotta hold it, pretty girl. you can do that f’me, right? f-fuck…” he rambles into the dark. 

there’s a burn to backs of your thighs where nagi’s sweatpants have rubbed you raw while he fucks you raw— his shaft and it’s pretty blue veins coated in a white froth from your tight little hole. but you don’t care, you’re too brainless to even think about caring— babbling your praises, blindly reaching behind you for the dip in your boyfriend’s hips to pull him forward, use it as leverage to fuck you deeper like you want. 

so you’re groping at him and he’s groping at you, lost in the twilight zone—fucking languidly against the sheets. the circles on your clit become rougher, tighter just like you do around seishiro who moans loud and proud against your ear, tongue sliding along the skin behind it. 

it’s all open mouthed mewls and wondering hands, fat droplets of arousal running down your thighs and precum against your weeping slit. you’re both messes, passionate and tired and hungry for what you can take from one another. nagi’s moans grow higher and higher in octave until they nearly rival your own and the way he so ravenously pounds into you starts to falter.

“sei, ‘m there…t-there!” you warn him through shaky breaths, the coil in your stomach that threatens to unwind setting you on high alert.  you feel your impending orgasm burn at your pelvis, tickle your spine and it only spurs nagi on— rolling his hips just right, cantering into you from behind with his balls soaked in your juices. 

“yeah, yeah…yeah…i know. ‘m g’na cum for you mhm… angel. d’ya want it? s-say you wan’ it.” whines as if you’ll say no to him but doesn’t give you the choice. his large, lean body anchors you down on his cock as it bullies it’s way through your blistering hot walls to grind against that one special spot that makes you see stars. seishiro doesn’t let up, how can he? when you claw at his ass and his waist and beg him to go deeper. 

your orgasm breaks the surface first, waves of your sweet nectar gushing from your slick sex so fast it almost forces nagi out of you. you squeal and he chokes on a staggered breath, every ripple of your cunt dragging him by the ankle towards his own high as he fucks you through your own. nagi’s load pours into your ravaged cunt as if the floodgates had been opened— warm and viscous as it seeps from your puffy folds, painting you in the shade of him. 

fatigue sinks it’s fangs into seishiro as he grinds the last of his seed into you, making sure it sticks— shallowly thrusting into you until you both come back down to earth. he loosens hold on you, but only just, the weight of his large frame thrown over you as you catch your breath together. 

“w-welcome home sei,” you hum, rolling over to face him, smiling as your boyfriend loses the fight to sleep before reaching up to twirl your fingers through his baby hairs. a gesture that always helps him sleep faster, that you always reward him with at the end of a long day. “missed you.” 

“thanks angel, don’ go missin’ me when ‘m right here.” nagi grumbles, clinging onto you, exhausted— if he weren’t wrecking your shit mere moments ago. “now shh, c’mere sleep ‘n with me.” with that, you’re wrapped in his arms, safe and peaceful once again. 

and there’s nothing seishiro nagi loves more.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #nagi x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #nagi smut #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x you #seishiro nagi smut #bllk thirst #blue lock thirst #blue lock imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #tw: somnophilia

[toxicanonymity]

wakeup

1k, raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

sweet pea playlist (smut songs, reader curated)

SUMMARY: PWP, really, all in bed. He comes, you go to the bathroom, come back and fall asleep, then wake up stuffed full of it again for next round.  A/N: can read alone, or for max smut the whole sequence is ✨night air, then the asleep inside blurb then come back to this. (ask) WARNINGS: No plot, somnophilia, unsafe p in v, creampies, dark fluff / possessive ruminations

Joel's arms are wrapped around you, his little spoon. Your bodies have been glued together for hours, both asleep and awake. He's grunting and sighing into your hair now, and his sounds make it easy to picture the snarl on his face. The softer Joel from hours ago is gone, but even as he gives it to you hard--and god, he gives it to you good--the buzz lingers on your neck from the tender brush of his lips.

You've been plugged up by his cock all night, and he’s about to double the load inside you.  His breath falters and he adjusts his grip, palming a breast.  His arms squeeze around you, his hips slam into you, an he pulses massively with a long sigh, releasing a fresh, warm load.  You sigh as you're filled beyond full.  Each pulse of his cock is a burst of warmth in your core and your chest. His arms loosen only slightly. He plants his lips on your neck and sucks the tender skin into his mouth before releasing it, then relaxing his head again on your pillow.

"Good girl," he pants, catching his breath.

You lie like that until you nearly fall back asleep again. You don’t want to get up, but you finally have to go to the bathroom. As you shift to move toward the edge of the bed, his cock slides out. He hums a small, dissatisfied, half-asleep, "mm?"  In the bathroom, you mourn the cum that trickles out of you. When you get back in bed, he’s snoring softly. You curve yourself into him as a small spoon and he reflexively pulls you in against him. His softening cock is sticky against your back.  

You reach behind you for it, wanting it back inside. You whisper "Joel." 

He slurs, “jus'a minute,” but falls fast asleep and doesn't budge.  You fall asleep, too. 

—---

At some point, he sleepily nestles his cock between your thighs, and it gets hard again.  He slides it in small pulses against your slippery seam. You sigh in your sleep and get really wet, adding to the mess of cum between your legs. He does it until it seems like you're about to wake up. Then, before you do, he presses on your mound, middle finger on your clit, to tilt your hips toward him.  He aligns his tip and pushes it just inside you.  

He has his right arm under your neck. He holds a breast with that hand as his left holds your mound for leverage. He begins to push into you, and when he’s far enough in to be sure the angle is just right, he plunges into your tight, moist hole, parting your insides with a sigh. Your back arches reflexively with a sweet little sigh. Oh, sweet pea. Your sweet little sounds get him every time. He pulls back a few inches then buries his length in you again, bottoming out with a moan, then your name in a whisper. 

He’s back where he belongs. 

—

You wake up just before dawn wrapped in his embrace, stuffed full of his cock, with his breath hot and humid in your hair, his body curved around yours. You sigh and cover his hand on your breast with yours, a sweet little good morning gesture.   He thrusts again, feeding your drooling cunt more of his dick. “Ya like this, sweet pea? Gettin’ it all night?” 

You sigh, “yeah,” as his cock stuffs you full again. His hand on your mound tenses and his fingers move against your clit. You twitch and moan. 

He responds, "Mmm," repeating the motion. 

He sheathes himself in you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and occasionally whispering.  “Want it all the time, don't ya?” You really wouldn’t mind doing it all day. If only he would stay home with you. “Feel so good, baby.” It feels so good you can't form words. “Take it so good.” 

It’s daybreak outside.  If only you could freeze everything so the night never ends.

His chest is dewy against your back. He’s curved around you for as much of your skin against his as he can get. His breathing gets heavier.  Your insides are so swollen with tension, you could come any minute. He fucks you faster, keeping his hand planted on your mound for leverage, wriggling it a little lower, dipping his fingers between your legs, nudging your clit, breathing heavily. You push back on him, whimpering. 

“Good girl,” he breathes into your hair. His fingers begin to move in rhythm. 

“Joel,” you whine.  It feels like you’re on the edge forever.  Your nipples harden and he covers one with his palm and a low moan. Your hair is getting sticky and tickles with the perspiration. A sharp thrust sends you up on the pillow and he pulls you closer, tighter. 

He fucks you and works his fingers and it swells inside you, closer and closer, until the tension bursts and overwhelms you with pleasure.  You whimper as your body jerks and your cum-coated walls choke his cock. 

"Good girl," he whispers, and you keep pulsing. "Yeah, that's good, baby,” he's slowly fucking you through it til his voice becomes uneven.  "That's good, sweet pea," he murmurs shakily. 

“Joel,” you whimper again, still squeezing his cock with your climax. You sigh and whimper, your body pressing into his with each wave of pleasure.  

“Fuck,” Joel's massive hand engulfs your hip, he grabs on and holds you still. He slams into you, bottoms out, and erupts with a deep "mmmm." The warmth of his release fills you as he draws in a long breath, then sighs.  "Ohhh,” he pumps inside you, “Mmm,” filling you  more, “oh baby," topping off his prior loads, some of it leaking out with his slow thrusts.  “Sweet pea,” His voice fades out into your hair as he finishes.

He nuzzles his nose in your hair and you fall sleep for the last time this morning. 

Joel doesn't. He doesn't fall back asleep, but he lies there with you anyway, his arm wrapped over you. He just lies there, eyes closed, feeling your body, feeling you breathe, feeling soothed. Eventually, his thoughts wander to his brutality with the man the night before, and he's more sure than ever that anyone who even thinks about touching you has it coming. His heart rate spikes, and his arms tighten--you're his.

-

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friendly reminder that he was snipped pre outbreak, no babies on the horizon.

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Thank you so much for reading and interacting. It means so much to me when you show raider joel your love!!! I notice and love y'all 🖤🖤🖤 raider joel's 6 month birthday is this month (the original), BOLO for a special moment or two. . . to the long haulers, tysm for being so invested and loyal. to the newcomers, welcome!! buckle up, lots more to come.

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller drabble #toxicanonymity ☠️ #raider!joel #raider!joel miller #tw somnophilia #cw somnophilia #tw somno #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #PWP

[envy-of-the-apple]

Omg hi are your requests still open??? No pressure!

Unfortunately I am here as a Mahito simp and your twoshot of him has me in a chokehold. I’ve re-read that an ungodly amount of times now. That said, I can’t get the thought out of my head of Mahito noncon-ing a reader he likes who can’t see him, who is eventually able to see him in the midst of the act. Aaaaaa

sfjklsdkljsdkfjsdklfjsdlksj oh my god bestie you absolute genius hold on- alsosorrythistooksolong

(Dark!Mahito x reader)

Bed Bugs

(Yandere, dark content, implied somno, noncon, dubcon, choking-but veryvery brief)

You've been waking up sore lately.

Maybe you aren't sleeping, right? Maybe it's your bed. It might not be expensive, but you bought it solely for comfort.

The pain comes from your thighs. Aching. Numb. And if you looked closely, you swore you could see bites-

Bed bugs. That had to be it.

"I hate those fuckers," your friend groans, "I got a couple bites when I was staying in that cheap motel back in California? Lasted for a week."

"I was looking at exterminators. Everything's so expensive these days," you mutter, swirling your latte, "I don't even know how I got them. Ridiculous."

She hums. The cafe was quiet during this time, not too many customers. The two of you were tucked away in a booth, still nursing the expensive coffee. You'd already heard her rant about the inflation.

"Y'know, my friend's older brother has some kinda' homerun pest control gig. I can ask him about it. Maybe he can give you a discount? I'm pretty sure he specializes in termites but I don't think there's a real difference."

You eye her. "Yeah, no. Termites aren't in any way close to bed bugs. Besides, don't they use acid for termites? I'd still like to sleep on a bed that doesn't give me skin problems."

"See? I'm giving you solutions, and you keep rejecting them," your friend sighs, "I give up. I think you just got roommates now."

You laugh, about to respond, when you feel something dangerously close to your inner thigh. You glance down. Nothing.

"Uh, speaking of roommates, what did you say was happening with yours?" You change the subject, shifting in the booth.

"Oh yeah! Her and Dan are getting pretty serious, I think she's gonna move out soon."

"Oh really?" The touch came back. Harder. More insistent. You gasp when something grabs you by the hips, squeezing.

Your friend gives you a look. "You okay?"

You look around again. Nothing. Again.

"Um, yes! I am." You managed to respond, "Sorry, sorry, just....long day."

You clear your throat, plastering on a smile as you listen to her prattle about the drama in her life. Her voice distracts you from your thoughts swirling in your mind. Each getting more ridiculous than the last. 

You swore it felt like a...hand.

Work kicked your ass today. 

You'd never been so tired, practically falling asleep on the train. Crowded as always. You scrunched your nose as yet another person conveniently forgot to wear deodorant that day. Wonderful. 

At least, the day was over. You could resign to being as unproductive as possible for the rest of your night. 

You scroll through the forum. Almost everyone said that bed bugs- Cimex lectularius because now you've researched them so much you know their scientific name- are a losing battle. The final verdict is to get rid of your mattress immediately. Either that, or you'd need to call a specialized exterminator that cost at least twice the price of your current mattress. You didn't know which was the worst deal. 

You ignore the first few touches. Trains. Crowded area. People who don't understand boundaries. It's the swipe on your ass that makes you turn around and glare at the likely culprit. A sleazy-looking man in his late-forties. He barely even reacts, just arching a brow at your look. 

Typical. You inch away from him, squeezing past the other bodies until you're well past the other side. You lean against the window, blocking yourself from any other unwanted touches. Finally. Some peace. 

Until it started back up again. 

Something solid presses against you. Like-like a wall. Insistent, begging to be noticed. You're forced back, squished against the already small space. It wasn't your imagination. You can't delude yourself. It was real. A real hand was pressing against your pants, right above your clothed pussy. 

But there was no one there. 

What the fuck. 

The rhythm is rough, forceful as the hand starts grinding on your clit, sending tingles up your spine. You let out a confused whine, slapping a hand over your mouth as you squirm fruitlessly against whatever the fuck this thing was. You can't stop it. It's too much. Too sudden. You want it to stop but it takes you higher and higher and higher and-

It's gone just when the train rolls to a stop. All at once, the opposing wall disappears. You stumble out of the doors, legs shaking, panting. 

There's a whisper of a laugh right by your ear. You realize you're very wet.

What. The. Fuck. 

You could have deluded yourself into thinking it was a hallucination. That you were so tired from work you had an orgasm untouched. It sounded ridiculous, but it was plausible, right? Stranger things have happened. 

But, it just kept happening. 

The touches range. Sometimes, it's just a brush against your shoulder. A poke on your cheek. Other times it's more insistent. You can still remember the sharp spank on your ass in your very much-alone apartment. 

You were starting to think you might not be so alone, anymore. 

The worst was when you were out in public. It always happened in public. You'd be at work, typing on your computer when you'd feel a sensation on your pussy, grinding on you until you're close to cumming. When you'd break away to hide away in the bathroom, you'd always find your panties soaked.

Sometimes, you find yourself typing something ridiculous on your computer. Are ghosts real? Can apparitions touch the living? 

In one of these rabbit holes, you stumble across the word Spectrophillia. Forums of tons and tons of people sharing their own experiences that are eerily similar to yours. A woman describes her encounter with her own aspiration, saying that the thing had physical teeth, a physical tongue, a physical- 

You stop reading after that. A horny ghost. Is that seriously what you were dealing with? You weren't raised religiously, so the idea wasn't very appealing. 

Luckily, your doctor was a woman of science. 

"The symptoms you're describing are a very common indication of stress." She types away on her computer. 

You eye her, both in relief and incredulous. "Really?" 

"Of course," she says, "Trust me, people have come up with crazier stories. Now." She turns back to you, clicking her pen before writing a couple things down on her clipboard.

"I'll prescribe you diazepam. Take one two hours after you've eaten before night." She instructs. "Come back if you feel anything out of the norm." 

You nod, still a bit dazed by her answer. Stress, that's seriously all that this was? 

But it worked, oddly enough. The first night back from the clinic, you stopped feeling those pseudo touches. Your insomnia started going away. You started getting a proper sleep cycle. For the first time in weeks, things were starting to work in your favor.

And then you wake up to the sounds of your bed moving. 

Creaking. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. 

Also, you feel...good. Really really good. Tingles shoot up your spine. A pleased sigh unconsciously escapes from your lips as the pleasure between your thighs grows. You're still incoherent, hips following the feeling. Hands are wrapped around your wrists, pressing them against the mattress. There's a puff of air against your ear. Tongue and teeth that nip against your throat. 

It feels like a wet dream, you think. Blearily, you open your eyes, fully prepared to see some Hollywood actor, your crush from work, a cute stranger. 

You see nothing but the ceiling. But the pressure only increases. 

Immediately, all sleep is gone. You wiggle and squirm under the sudden weight. Weight that shouldn't be possible, considering there's nothing there. Your scream is blocked by a hand clamping itself over your windpipe, squeezing. 

The panic is immediate. You're writhing, doing whatever you can to get air into your lungs. It's not working. You can't move your hands. You can't move your legs. You're dying you're dying you're-

"Can you see me now?" 

You can see him. 

You were expecting something a bit less inhuman. Apart from the stitches that litter his face, he looks familiar, in terms of shape that is. Two human eyes. A human head. Human lips that are curved into a grin. Human skin. 

He looks so normal. And that makes whatever is happening even more scary. 

He releases your throat, and you're sucking in mouthfuls of air, regulating your breathing. He hums in clear delight, leaning away so he straddles you. He tuts when you start crying, sobs wracking your shivering body. 

"Is that all you can do?" He clicks his tongue like he's disappointed in you. 

"Get off," you wheeze, wiggling away, "Get-get off." 

"Why? You were enjoying it a couple of minutes ago." It? You glance down at the mess of bedsheets, where he's still inside you, lazily grinding his cock back into your wet hole. 

Nothing about this makes sense. What was he doing-How can he be-How is he even real when you couldn't see him before? You can't think; your mind is still drowsy on fatigue and the medication. Fuck the medication? Is that why you can barely even struggle?

"What a-are you?" You manage to slur out, words slipping around your tongue like butter. 

He laughs like you just said the world's funniest joke. It only makes your stomach drop. You've never heard a sound so evil before. 

"That's kinda' rude. Your parents never taught you manners?" He drawls, "Mahito, that's my name! I know yours!" You hate the way he says your name with so much perversion. He's ruining the innocence, just like how he's ruining you. 

You open your mouth, intent on screaming, but at that exact moment, his cock slams back inside you. You give out a stuttered moan instead. 

"See? Told you: you like it." Mahito gloats and your mind swirls in and out of focus again. You're barely coherent, moaning and huffing underneath him. You feel disgusted at yourself. For being so okay with this. But-but you can't move. You can barely breathe. 

And, you note with reluctance, he's been doing this for a while. You're practically mid-way through your build-up, so close to an orgasm that you don't want. Given by a fucking monster. 

"Have you-have you been-" 

"Yeah, it's been me, for a while now," he answers without much cadence, "You were so close with the ghost theory. It was kinda cute watching you get so desperate. Finding whatever you could to check out of reality."

Oh. You get it. This was all a game for him. How long has he been doing this to you? Making you stumble around, drowning in your own paranoia. How long has this thing been watching you? Touching you. Fucking you.

"You, on the other hand, are on a whole other level with your delusion." He grins, showing teeth. "Fuck, seriously, did you think you were hallucinating me fingering you? At that point, I have to admire your creativity." 

You can barely focus on his words, not when his cock was digging you out. You were so close, practically on the precipice. He gives one more snap of his hips, and you're gone, pussy clenching around his dick, back arching.

The orgasm feels like it lasts for hours because he refuses to stop moving. He finally grants you mercy by spilling his cum deep inside you, forcing you to milk his cock as he lazily rolls his hips, forcing your oversensitive body to jolt. 

You catch your breath when the world stops spinning. When it grows quiet, you can only hear your own panting. Another wave of tears threatens to spill. 

"Aw, cheer up," Mahito purrs, "At least it wasn't bed bugs, right?" 

#dark content #x reader #yandere #tw:noncon #mahito x reader #dark mahito #dark jjk #yandere jjk #tw:somno #tw: somnophilia #tw: choking

[konigsblog]

Getting fucked while wearing konigs shirt....yeah.....

tw: somnophilia, non-con/dub-con. 💤

considering this man is headcannoned to be around 6’10” tall, his clothes would be massive on you.

könig has a fetish for it; seeing you draped in his large clothes, falling asleep in a sweatshirt of his, covering your body that he craves and desires so desperately.

to his surprise, you're not wearing any panties. it's a sight könig can't get out of his head, and even if you're just best friends, he can't himself from exploring further — hands wandering upwards to your precious tits, his large, calloused and cold hands against your warm breasts leaving your nipples perky and hard between his fingers, giving them a little twist as he grinds his clothed boner against your ass.

he'll roll his sweatshirt up, enough where he's able to spread your thighs, wrapping his arms around your figure to pull you close. he can almost hear the sound of your heartbeat rhythm, pounding against your ribs as he rubs your swollen folds in small circles, watching your every reaction as his dick hardens at the sight.

spreading your thighs, he begins to take his weeping dick out. fuck, by the time he's freed his lengthy dick from the confines of his boxers, he's leaking like a faucet all down his fingers. fat globs of his hot semen are smeared along your slit, using it as lube to push deep inside, stretching you out with his aching length.

you look so relaxed and peaceful, the sounds of your snoring slightly audible as he presses his face into the crook of your neck. his brain feels like mush as he huffs at the faint scent of your perfume against your neck, and the essence of your shampoo in your hair. the feeling of your gummy, slick and warm cunt around his meaty dick leaves könig feeling as if he's on cloud nine, unable to control the way his broad hips buck into your soft figure.

his fingernails leave indents along your flesh, gripping a firm hold of your soft thighs as he grinds his strong hips against your rear, panting beside your ear as he admires the sight of you one last time before he uses your tight pussy as an outlet for his hot load.

the sight of his clothes covering your figure, looking so comfortable and snug in his clothes, the smell of his cologne and musk still lingering on the material leaving him feral and possessive. his balls become tight and sore with each thrust, the desperation inside of könig only growing as he feels his shaft twitch and pulsate before shooting spurts of his arousal all inside the warmth of your cunt.

fuck... he could stay there forever, really — the warmth and tightness of your hole, so slick and so wet, something so familiar to könig, but so new for you. if only you knew how often he does this, how guilt churns in his gut everytime he's fucked himself stupid using your cunt... :(

#orla speaks #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: somnophilia #könig x you #könig x reader #konig x you #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig mwii #konig smut

[diejager]

It got deleted again 😂

Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny! Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.

He’s always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.

Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing he’d ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.

Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldn’t stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.

He didn’t feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, he’d steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.

You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.

“One more, Bonnie,” he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, “A need one more, please.”

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap x reader smut #soap x reader #dark cod #tw: dark content #dark content #tw dubcon #tw: dub con #tw: dubcon #dub con #dubious consent #cw: somno #tw somnophilia #tw: somnophilia #cw: non con #tw noncon #tw: non con #tw: noncon #non con #dead dove do not eat #soap smut #Cbf!johnny #john soap mctavish smut

[paperdildos]

I want him to use my body for his morning wood when he first wakes up 🤭 it doesn't matter if I'm still asleep, have me wake up full of cum and moaning in my ear how naughty it feels

#dd/g little #tw somnophilia #cnc somno #somno breeding #cw: somno #foryou #fyp #fyppage #new tumblog #k!nky thoughts #mommy k!nk #bd/sm daddy #cnc k!nk #tw daddy kink #tw smut #ddlglove #somno fantasy #slight somno #tw somno #fyp2023 #tumblr blaze #writers of tumblr #fluffy smut #soft smut #not smut