#dark 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 ☠️

[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

[konigsblog]

cw: stepcest, non-con, forced impregnation, somnophilia — dead dove: do not eat. 18+ 🔞

i hate waking up from a nap with a headache (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)...

instead, it got me thinking about stepbro-könig and somnophilia. i know for a fact, that könig's search history is full of stepcest porn and filthy pornos, those cliché porn videos where someone is stuck in a tight area, vulnerable and defenceless against everything, with titles relating to a perverted and corrupted step sibling.

könig feels gross and ashamed getting off to the thought of his stepsister in such provocative ways — he knows he should protect you and think of you in appropriate ways, but he can't stand watching you come home from a college party with hickeys all down your body, he needs you for himself...

but fuck, he's insatiable for you and can't help himself. his heavy, weeping dick begins to grow and throb and twitch whilst held firmly in his large hand, weeping fat globs of his hot semen, running down his calloused fingertips.

at some point, könig decides to take the next step, deciding to re-enact his disgusting desires, sinking deeper inside your swollen, glistening folds whilst you're sleeping silently, your peacefulness interrupted by your depraved, selfish stepbrother. könig's thrusts are slow and sloppy, fucking his meaty dick deeper into your dripping folds. he can hear the sounds of your quiet mewls and little moans, panting, heaving and squirming beneath him as he uses your body for his own pleasure and depravity.

i mean, it's almost expected that könig would probably record this to get off to. or maybe, you'd find yourself posted onto a porn website, completely unaware of his disgusting, dark fantasies and behaviour.

fuck, he will even contemplate knocking you up so that you don't really have a choice — so that people don't look at you perversely, like you're nothing but a plaything. you have no clue who impregnated you, or how this even happened, and you're distraught — you haven't had sex with anyone, or at least to your knowledge !!

oh, your poor, little thing... although, you begin to get suspicious when you realise your newborn, chubby baby looks scarily similar to your stepbrother, or how könig takes a fatherly approach to your baby, cradling him as if he was his own.

you feel sick to your stomach at the realisation. someone you thought would never put you in harm's way, someone who you thought would protect you for an eternity... :(

#orla speaks #tw stepcest #tw: stepcest #tw: non con #tw: noncon #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon #tw: forced breeding #tw: forced impregnation #tw: somnophillia #tw: somnophilia #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark cod #tw: dark content #könig x you #könig x reader #könig x y/n #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig mwii #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig smut #konig headcanons #konig hcs

[notmuchtofind]

don’t move | r.c

Tw: 18+ smut, hate sex, rough sex, p in v, fingering, violence, choking, degrading, name calling (slur,bitch ect), domestic, c0ckwarming , praising, mental b0ndage, mean!rafe

basically just feral <33

synopsis: You’re trying to escape the house whilst arguing with rafe but he won’t let you get away without a fight

a/n: Sorry it’s not 100% proof read, and this is my first rafe smut i’ve done so let me know your honest opinions :) ty x

“i swear to god y/n if you dare. if you dare leave this fucking house!“ Rafe snarls from across the kitchen island as you begin to stumble back to your feet and contemplate twisting the knob to the front door.

You’re petrified, but you needed to get out of this house and away from Rafe. the constant war that was going on between you and rafe for the past couple of months had brought you to breaking point.

Rafe was, once again, back using cocaine heavily. He’d always manage to break his habit for months at a time, and this time you thought maybe it was for good…However, When Ward decided to cut off all of what rafe had left, due to his accidental loss of money within the business. It turned rafe psycho. You’d been with rafe for 3 years, and you’d thought you’d seen the worst. but this time was different.

Tears stream down your face and past the bloody wound that resides along the bottom of your lip. The tears seem to sting the opening slightly as you feel your face grow hotter. This isn’t the first time Rafes hit you. But it’s certainly the hardest. And when he’s hit you before, he’s almost instantly apologetic, but tonight Rafes eyes no longer reside his soul. He’s switched.

“P-Please Rafe, Stop!!” said almost screaming, desperately, whilst cracks formed in your voice. “you need me y/n” rafe patronised “you’re fucking nothing without me, get the fuck back here now, you bitch!” he spits. but you run, out the door with the keys to the truck you managed to take from rafes pocket the moment you realised he was about to have another outburst.

you wrestle with the keys whilst stumbling bare foot on the mud outside the mansion. You fall onto the dust and drop the keys. It’s pitch black, and you’re unable to see clearly, the only light that glares ever so slightly is the one seeping through the open door to the mansion of the boy thats held you there unwillingly for too long.

You was unable to hear the footsteps that had krept up behind you due to the loud pounding of your heart inside your chest. “fucking slut” he spits as he steps his boot onto the fingers you was using to locate the keys. you wince in pain as rafe puts all his body weight onto your hand. “i told you not to leave baby” he coos whilst looking down at you and tilting his head slightly. Rafe holds eye contact, he looks to be in awe as tears still stream down your face and whimpers escape your lips from the pain you’re experiencing. Rafes large hand grasps your jaw, big enough to rest his thumb and fingers on each side of your cheeks. He then slowly digs his fingertips into the sides of your face and elevates your body up towards his. “i think it’s time you come back inside”.

Rafe grabs you by the fabric of your top and with no hesitation, drags you along the dirt, whilst you squirm and wince in pain. he drags you all the way back into the front door of the mansion. Your legs and arms bruised and grazed, and your clothes now blood stained.

you felt exsausted, but sobs and whimpering still managed to escape your lips. Now laid helplessly in the hallway you beg “Rafe please baby please, this isn’t you i know you you don’t want to hurt me rafe…You don’t want to do this to me, please-please” But before Rafe could’ve even processed what you was saying he’s halfway down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Now petrified to move you lay still in the hallway. After hearing rafe snorting, what youre adiment is cocaine, he reappears, Shirtless, and holding a long woven wrope wrapped around his fist. “So you decide to obey me now and stay put like a good girl?” Rafe states before unapologetically grabbing your left ankle and dragging you through to the dining room.

Rafe dumps your body and runs his hand over his head before he takes his cigarette packet out of his back pocket and lights a cigarette. holding the cigarette between his lips he begins to unravel the rope, wrapping it around the heavy wooden dining table leg. He then begins to wrap the wrope around you ankle, tightly. you beg and squirm and kick.“what the fuck are you doi-“ but before you can finish, your head thuds on the floor as rafes palm collides with your cheek “shut. the. fuck. up” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “jesus fucking christ y/n, you never learn?” he says whilst walking away from you and taking a drag of his cigarette.

You’re now unable to move from the floor with your ankle tied to the table leg, you just watch Rafe pace up and down, puffing on his cigarette, until he stubs it out on the wall and walks back over to where you lay.

Rafe kneels onto the floor, placing his knees at either side of your torso. Petrified and unsure of his next move,you move your head to one side but lay completely still “mmmm what a good girl” rafe coos whilst he begins to trail his hands from your waist to the bottom hem of your top. Rafe begins to lift up your top, revealing your naked tits. Your nipples begin to harden due to the exposure of the quickly changed temperature and rafe lets out a shakey breath.

Your breaths begin to become faster as you begin to notice rafe growing larger and larger through his pants, and even though your petrified of a potential violent outburst from rafe, you can’t help when your stomach fills with butterflies as you imagine the girthy length that rests inside.

Rafes eyes don’t move from your tits as he begins to flick your hard nipple back and forth, occasionally twiddling it between his index and thumb. “I love when you don’t question me y/n i love when you just lay there, all pretty for me as i do what i please. You’re mine” Rafe says, still not taking eyes off your chest.

The way rafes words race around your mind, as much as you hate when rafes like this, there’s somthing about him praising you that makes you weak. You’re so disgusted with yourself knowing you’ve just let him treat you like shit but you know your pussys becoming more and more sticky in your panties as he speaks.

You still lay there absolutely still, as rafe begins to rub himself through his pants before unbuckling them and letting them fall just past his upper thigh. as well as his boxers. His shaft springs up and you get a glimps of his precum shimmering at the end of his tip. Rafe throws his head back whilst he gives himself 3 long strokes over your body. He then begins yanking your trousers and panties down simultaneously, sending pain up your leg as he takes no care in how your legs unable to move due to being tied down. But we’ve established by now rafe doesn’t care about hurting you. if anything it gets him off.

“aha ohhh fuck” rafe chuckles, his eyes dart too your sticky wet folds “it looks like my girl enjoys obeying hmm?” he mocks. tracing his middle finger over your outer lips gently, gathering the already spilt juices from your pathetic cunt. Rafe brings his hand up and forces his fingers into your mouth, wriggling them around the tip of your tongue and then tracing them back around your nipples for a 2nd time.

“do you taste good my sweet girl?”

Your head tilts back and your hips cock up as you allow the pleasure to rush through your body.

The sound of a slap echoes through the dimly lit room and a stinging pain engulfs the surface area of your cheek “don’t. fucking move you slut” rafe spits. loosing his patients he wraps his fist around your throat and abruptly shoves his fingers past your dripping folds and enters the walls of your cunt. You can’t help but whimper slightly, However rafe squeezes your throat so tight you’re pretty sure he was unable to hear it.

Your walls expand as your body aches for something larger to fill your tight hole. Rafe finger fucks you rough, making your body move loosely around his thick fingers. rafe groans as he takes his hand off your throat and begins stroking himself whilst still finger fucking your pussy, getting off to the sensation of how tight u was around his fingers and the squelching sounds that are made everytime he thrusts his fingers in and out.

“mmmm fuck baby” he growls as he pulls his fingers out of you. rafe pulls you close to him by your thighs, unaware of the pain it causes you whilst still attached to the table. but he couldn’t care less, all he cares about is filling your hole with his cock. feeling if you become wetter the deeper he goes. he loves using your pathetic little body, your body is helpless and weak compared to his, and he likes to make sure youre aware. “goood girl, good giiiirlll” he emphasises as his cock slowly enters your cunt. you gasp and your pussy never gets usto the size, it always manages to tear you open slightly, causing a slight stinging pain as he thrusts in and out of you, getting faster and faster he grunts simoultaneously “that’s my sweet girl, stay still for daddy whilst he fucks you senseless” “mmmm”

You’re already so close, and rafe can tell. he proceeds to tell you how good your pussy feels and that you’re all his and that’s all you ever will be. that’s what your purpose is, to serve rafe, in anyway he wants.

“i can feel you tightening around my cock you slut” he says with pleasure “you can cum for me but don’t you dare fucking move” rafe demands “i swear to god if you fucking move i’ll have to carry on fucking you even when it fucking hurts” he threatens.

You beging to feel the sweetness rush over your body, starting in your head and making its way down your body. You fight the urge to jerk your body up towards rafe so his cock goes deeper, you resist the urge to moan his name or dig your fingernails deep in his back to keep him in position. You fight the urges and your orgasm takes over your whole mind, the only thing you can do to express how you truley feel is roll your eyes back into your head whilst your pussy gushes, leaving your cream to rest on rafes cock. He grunts once more before you feel his cum shoot inside you and fill your walls. You moan in pleasure and rafe settles next to you, but still enough to keep his cock inside your pussy, not allowing his cum to escape, as a sign to show you that you’re his.

You’re his slut here to keep his cock warm

please feel free to repost if you enjoyed 🥹 <3

#mean!rafe #somnophilia!rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #smut #k1nk!rafe #kinktober #dom!rafe #c0ckwarming #darkrafe #dark rafe cameron #dark rafe #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #sub!rafe #rough rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron y/n #obx #zach maclaren #the other zoey #rafe x reader #drew starkey x reader

[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

[missbunnybunny]

❣💌[ I'm stravin' , Darlin' ]💌❣

Tw: non-con, dubcon, yandere, stalking, Somnophilia, Drugging, breeding, cockwarming.

A/n: this is my first detailed smut. It was going well at the start until I took a wrong turn and fell off a cliff. Possessive music got influence. I don't know what I wrote, am going to hell, his more delusional; than me. smh. ENJOY!

Note: this is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. Based on the songs Eat Your Young by Hozier and An Unhealthy Obsession by Blake Robinson, helped write this song. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and good girl. If I forgot something plz tell me.

You were exhausted. Who could blame you for being tired? You enjoyed your job as the owner of a small coffee shop, but you were drained and your staff adored you. When they had an emergency, you were incredibly nice to them and understanding. You didn't inquire, you just told them not to worry because you trusted them and they trusted you.

You didn't hesitate to assist your staff when an aggressive customer screamed and yelled at them. You listened to all sides of the story and kept your eyes on the cameras. When they realized they didn't have a foothold, you politely requested them to go. But if they weren't kind enough to go, you merely called the cops. You would never let them get away with it; you had patience, but not that much.

So, after the day was done, you secured your doors and walked upstairs to your house. You double-checked that all the doors and windows were secured and that the security system was turned on and operational. Taking a soothing bubble bath, dressing, and preparing for some much-needed rest. Closing your eyes and basking in the warm embrace of sleep. Your eyes slowly opened, and you attempted to move your fingers, but they wouldn't budge. You had been under a lot of stress recently due to overwork, and sleep paralysis was now typical for you.

You could hear your door opening and the floors squeaking. The ebony form of a guy appeared. He was tall, and the broadness of his shoulders suggested that he worked out. As you felt the bed drop at your feet, he sat at the end of it. His hand began to go up and down your leg gently. Coming to a halt at your thigh. He hummed to himself while pinching your inner thigh.

You uttered a grunt. He came to a halt and gazed up at you. As he peered down at your face, his face slowly entered the frame. "Oh, how pretty," he said, lovingly cupping your face. "I don't think I could hold myself back." His breath lightly fanning your face, he murmured. He kissed you, and you let out a frightened moan and screwed your eyes shut. He took advantage of the situation by inserting his tongue inside your mouth. While squeezing your inner thigh, he hummed to himself. His hand creeps up and beneath your shirt from your thigh. He pulled your nipple and squeezed your breast. He linked his mouth to yours with a thin string of saliva. He licked his lower lip. "You taste amazing," he replied with a smile.

He kissed your lips once more, and you felt him get out of bed. You sprang awake and took a glance around. Your clothing was in good condition and not flung around. You raced to your restroom and looked in the mirror; there were no handprints anywhere on you. You rushed to your front door, terrified, and examined your alarm system; nothing was amiss. You were befuddled, and your thinking was jumbled. You summarized it up to well: an odd wet dream, stress, and being punted up may all lead to unusual nightmares, especially when combined with sleep paralysis.

You sipped your favorite comfort drink, rubbed your temples, and took a few deep breaths. Exhale a sigh of relief as you feel your tension wash away. You put on your business attire and prepare to open your shop. The business opens at 8 a.m., so you were there by 6:30, and by 7 a.m., staff began to arrive. Everyone was having a fantastic time in the shop, which was filled with laughter and music. When the clock struck eight, you laughed, "It's eight, you know what to do. Hit it!" Everyone queued up got into place, and you opened the store. Customers arrived quickly after that.

When a well-dressed man entered and approached the counter, your staff was busy. As you finished serving one of your usual clients, you noticed him and called, "I'll be with you in a minute." "Thank you, hun." The kind old lady stated. You smiled at her and walked over to the counter to assist the man. "I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting too long?" you said as you set up the ordering machine. "No, not at all." He informed you in hushed tones, he was attractive, you had to admit it. His voice seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't place it. But you shrugged it off and smiled as you asked him what he needed.

"A coffee with a cake," he answered politely. "Ah, what cake would you like sir, we have many options." you beam up at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Oh, what would you recommend, my dear?" he asks, quietly tapping the counter. "Would red velvet cake be acceptable?" "It's one of my favorites," you inquired. He nodded, and you concluded his order with a small 'mm'. " Would that be all, sir?" "If so, this is your total," you say, pointing to the sum on the side of the register. " Yes." He responded and paid.

As soon as the order appears on the screen, one of your staff takes it while you assist with the other tasks and clients. Since the front of the store was fully filled, the man was directed to the back. He could see the counter and you from where he was seated. The manager patted you on the shoulder and smiled at you as they spoke to you. You chuckle and smile as you remove your apron. "I'm taking a break, everyone," you say. 'Okay, ma'am,' they respond. You step away from the counter and take a seat on one of the unoccupied stools close to his table. While on the phone with someone, you smile and giggle.

He can't stop staring at you. It was fortunate that he instructed his assistant to investigate you. He even postponed a lunch date with the daughter of a well-known corporation. He didn't mind because he could tell she was attempting to catch his attention. He couldn't care less about how much her clothing cost or how it 'accidentally' revealed her chest. He'd rather be here, staring at your face and grin. It was a coincidence that he first spotted you; one of his clients requested to meet at this cafe since they genuinely enjoyed your coffee and sweets. He couldn't get your face out of his mind and thoughts after that.

Your phone call had finished, and you turned to meet his gaze. You froze as you studied his face. He saw the fact and grinned. You realized he hadn't touched his cake and sighed in despair. "Do you not like the cake, Sir?" You questioned him quietly, your gaze fixed on the plate. "Oh, no, it's not like that. "I was saving the cake for last because it was so delicious." He let you know quietly. "Oh, okay," you said as you stood up and turned around. "Would you like to join me?" he offered, and you graciously accepted his invitation.

You spoke till your break ended. He became a regular client after that and frequently asked about your favorite treats to try. It had been months since then, yet you still felt tired whenever you saw him. He was the final customer in the shop on one such occasion. You sent your employees early, not wanting to keep them waiting so they didn't miss their bus or train. "It's closing time, Mister Blackwell; you should go home," you said. "I told you to call me James, Darling." He told you firmly. " However, I agree. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you." While drinking his drink, he informed you.

"Would you mind joining me before I leave?" He remarked this while pointing to the seat next to him. you exclaimed, "You are extremely persistent." You shook your head and set your favorite drink on the table. turning around and laying a little slice of cake next to your drink. You had no idea what he had placed into your drink by the time you sat next to him. He grinned as you took a sip of your drink, seeing your expression shift.

He watched as your eyes gradually closed and you collapsed on the table, spilling your cup on the floor. "What…did you do?" You questioned him carefully, feeling yourself nodding off. "Don't worry, my love, I'll take care of you." As you eventually slid away, you heard him declare. You wake up with him twirling his tongue at your clit, then cat licking your entrance, going back and up to your clit, before his tongue went into your pussy, tasting every inch of it. You eventually let out a whimper as the knot in your gut finally split and you filled his mouth with your cum. "You're awake, I hope you don't mind," he whipped his mouth with his palm. "I was dying to taste you." He stated. His gaze moved up and down your body, forming an image of you in his mind. You attempted to speak, but all you got was a broken wail. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you were entirely bare to him. Your eyes began to water, and silent tears streamed down your cheeks. " Why are you crying, Darlin?" He stated this as he licked your tears away before giving you a ravenous kiss, His tongue quickly claiming your mouth.

He released your lips as he stated, "It will take a while until you can move again, but don't worry, I'll make you feel good." He gently graded your hand before bringing it to the bulge on his pants. "This is what you did to me." He talked as he stroked your palm up and down his bulge, letting out a groan as he began to accelerate. He stared down at you, hungry, and proceeded to remove his outfit. He was now entirely exposed for you to see. " Oh, very lovely. I'm curious how you'll look after I slit you in half on my dick." He murmured this as he sank his thick fingers into your pussy, causing your back to arch. When he noticed your body jerked up and your jaw fell open, he smiled even more.

He discovered your sweet spot! He curled his fingers in the same place over and over. You felt that familiar tight knot in your gut emerges, prompting you to tighten your walls around his fingers. "That's it, cum on my fingers like the good girl you are," he said. Your walls flutter subconsciously at his words, "Oh, you like being called a good girl?" he questioned, advancing faster. Your moans and whimpers sounded like music to his ears. He was itching to sink his dick into you. You came undone under him with one more stroke, cumming on his fingers and hand. He took his hand away and brought it up to his mouth, licking your juices. "You taste divine." He exhaled.

He positioned himself at your entrance, tapping his dick on your assaulted lips. He graded your legs and pushed them on your chest in a typical mating press position, and you could plainly see his pink tip and how enormous he was. Once he got you the way he wanted you, you felt the swelling tip of his cock press against your tight entrance and buckle his hip. He bottoms out in one push, his pelvis colliding with your entrance. He took your breath away since he was so large. And, as he claimed, he was splitting you in half with his dick. "Don't pass out on me, Darlin," he remarked, softly patting your cheek with his palm." The fun is just getting started," he remarked as he kissed you on the lips. Allowing you to get used to his size before proceeding. You were so tight! And you are his and his alone.

His cock began to slide in and out of your tight pussy, as if you were nothing more than a fleshlight at his disposal. "Y/n I'm going to make you only mine," your desperate cries mixed with groans as you sought to stop him. The sound of skin smacking against skin got louder as he thrust harder and harder. Your muscles were absolutely spasming, and your eyes could hardly fixate or focus on his sweat-splattered face above you.

So this was how it felt to be with a man like him, putting you precisely where you should have always been. BELOW HIM, you were groaning, saliva flowing from the corners of your lips, and your eyes rolled up every time his cock brushed your cervix and his pelvic bone stroked against your swollen clit. Your eyes met his and he kissed you passionately; the longer the two of you kissed, the more his hips appeared to press into yours. The headboard of the bed was crashing fiercely into the wall, adding yet another obscene sound to the symphony.

You could feel his dick pounding against your walls; it was clear he was nearing his climax, which was going to totally fill you up to the point of leaking, and then fuck a baby into your womb. As he furiously pounded into you, his hands came to your waist and had a tight grasp on you. You felt James base expand and get even bigger only seconds before his hot sperm was spurting into your womb and the veins surrounding his dick were pulsating against your walls, making you gasp for the nth time. The sensation of being totally filled was so intense that you almost ended up cumming again.

He lay down next to you, panting and allowing you to collect your breath. As your body was extremely sore, he began spooning you from behind his cock, still inside you. "Sleep, Love, you must be tired," he kissed your neck. I'll prepare something for you in the morning." You were exhausted, and your half-lined eyelids eventually closed as you slept off. James grabbed up his phone and called over your sleeping figure. The phone rang till someone answered, "Ray?" "Did you do what I asked?" he inquired calmly. "Yes, I made sure to delete the footage of you breaking into the home months ago, as well as the alarm system," Ray stated gently. "Perfect" James smiled, hanging up the call as he fell asleep next to you.

After so long of only admiring you from afar and secretly stroking you as you slept, he was overjoyed to finally hold you in his arms. Don't worry, you can have a better life because He will take excellent care of you. "It'll take some getting used to, but we'll make it work." were his final thoughts as he fell asleep affectionately sound asleep with you in his arms.

Am gonna dig a hole and hide. bye....👩🏽‍🦯

#yandere #yandere x reader #dark content #cw noncon #tw noncon #x reader #yandere oc #Yandere x reader lemon #yandere noncon #yandere smut #noncon touching #female reader #male yandere #💌yan #like or reblog #cw stalking #cw somnophilia #tw somno #cw drugs #tw drugging #pretty yandere #original oc #oc character #tw.breeding

[yanmuffins]

SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like a freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?  

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.  

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits for fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.  

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake. 

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages, castles so far, they nearly faded into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered anyway. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

#tw noncon #tw somno #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere jjk x reader #cw yandere #dark fic

[riizeblr]

bestfriend sungchan got so mad when he found out ure crushing on this other dude, and decided to take ur virginity first bfr that bastard can 😵‍💫

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: noncon, somno

the bed creaks beneath your weight, bed springs ringing in your ears as your eyes start to fall open. your hands slowly inch towards the space next to you, in search of sungchan’s comforting warmth as an unpleasant feeling fills your stomach. heat radiates above you, sweat building on your skin with each passing second.

the rocking motion and the painful sting between your legs register slowly, creeping into the forefront of your mind as you lay limp. you spot large, pale hands gripping your plush thighs, spreading them until they start to ache. the knuckles stretch, turning white as the grip tightens.

your head sinks deeper into your plush pillow with each jolt of your body. the cushion begins to blocks your ears, muffling the unpleasant creaking and the huffs that you only noticed as your consciousness returned. your fist curls around the sheets of the space beside you, still in search of the man who had fallen asleep beside you.

defined muscles covered in silky skin pressed against your middle that you hadn’t noticed is now bare. your t-shirt pulled up and past your chest. lips lock around your nipple, hesitant but firm sucks causing them to harden and a whimper to leave your throat.

the ache between your legs persists but it shifts into a strange sensation of simultaneous pain and pleasure. eager drags along your insides, stretching of your untouched hole.

your eyes flutter open, immediately finding the empty space beside you. you slowly look up, finding the source of the feeling consuming your body.

“sungchan?”

#tw noncon #tw somnophilia #discography ! #feat. sungchan ! #sungchan x reader #sungchan smut #riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #dark riize #yandere sungchan #dark kpop #dark!sungchan #riize #sungchan

[rottiens]

Oh the intimacy of sleeping naked with Suguru. It doesn't have to be sexual, although it can become that very quickly with him… but many times and after a long day he just wants to feel you close, feel your skin, press you to his chest, his arm around your waist as he hugs you from behind; sinking his face into the line of your neck, smelling your natural scent… It's not his fault that sometimes you make him get so hard he can't sleep, which leads to you waking up with his cock throbbing inside you, he just can't help it sometimes

#ro speaks #wr #geto x reader #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #this could get very dark if I don't stop... #cough yan geto cough #but I want to leave it cute for now

[sugojosgf]

pussy inspector nanamin,,,

he'd come back from work, eyes drooping and shoulder's relaxed. his black shirt, stretched over his cramping muscles as he casually walks over to your shared bed. he smiles to himself when he sees you clad in a pretty leopard print slip, that has ridden over your plump ass.

he slowly lifts your dress higher and finds the valley of your thighs covered in your juices and a soft scowl adorns his face when he realises he was too late for his pretty girl.

now of course, he has to check if his sweetheart hurt herself trying to get off without his help so he lowers his face to your cunt and spreads your lips apart, your glistening clit shining like a pearl in the moonlight.

he licks his lips as he enters a single finger into your soft hole, to see if you injured yourself inside. making his finger grind into you, as he checks your clenching walls.

his ears don't miss your quiet whines for more, so he adds in another finger to see how much you've loosened your own hole.

he smirks as he sees your sleeping body grind against his thick fingers. dropping his entire body on the bed, he licks from your perineum to clit so he can taste, to see if it tastes like it usually does.

he pulls back noticing something amiss so he pulls out his cock and slips it in between your lips.

he uses you, not penetrating just so he could coat your dumb pussy with his cum. so it tastes like it always does, so it tastes like him. he groans quietly when he realises he is near. he spreads apart your lips and paints your puffy cunt white.

using his sticky cum, he brings you close to your orgasm as he pinches your clit meanly, waking you up with tears brimming in your eyes.

"silly girl, you need my cock to get there right ?"

#somnophilia #pussy inspection #jjk #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanamin #got me so soaked 〰⋆｡˚ #fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☁︎ #dark content (づ ど) #nanamin me 🧈

[toxicanonymity]

I love your fic!

Can we get some Joel/Reader noncon somnophlia out here???

What you're missing

1.2k | dark!Joel x f!Reader | masterlist

Yes, ty for asking

I8+ noncon somnophilia, mild manhandling Joel POV

Joel wakes up in the middle of the night, cock as hard as a steel rod, with you in his arms.  You and Joel are sharing a sleeping bag for warmth, so you’re both nude - more body heat that way - and he’s spooning you.  You could feel him harden before you fell asleep, and you knew it was only natural, so you ignored it.  You were getting warm and wet yourself, and for a moment, you felt guilty.  You’re not exactly  single, but your partner was needed at the clinic and stayed behind.  Meanwhile, you were sent on a week-long hunting trip to provide your foraging and tree-climbing skills.  The rest of the hunting party got killed off, and now it’s just you and Joel.  It’s too risky to build a fire. Plus, you've encountered clickers, so you have to be quiet. 

So you might have felt guilty for a moment about your body's natural human arousal, but you shouldn’t have.  It’s strictly about the mission between you and Joel.  At this point, you're lucky to be alive, and you have Joel to thank.  A hard cock resting harmlessly against you is the least of your worries.   Attractive as he may be with his sad eyes, messy hair, and patchy beard.  Strong as he may be with his hulking biceps and thick neck. . . he’s a hunter, and you’re a gatherer.  That’s all you are together, and that’s all you’ll be.  

-

And now, Joel's raging erection rests against your crack while you’re sound asleep.  He can’t remember the last time he was this hard.  Maybe never.  He scoots back just enough to adjust its position.  He nestles his length between your thighs, resting against your warmth in a special nook made just for him.  He rocks his hips forward to get comfortable, and the rest of his body nestles into yours again, with his strong arm draped over your body.  

His massive palm finds your breast and flattens it into your chest as he pulls you closer, your spine against his broad chest and stomach, which is just soft enough to be comfortable for you. The feeling of your nipple against his palm makes his hips rock into you once more. This time, as his cock moves against you, he feels something new – an irresistible wetness between your legs.  He rolls his hips into you at a slow rhythm, his stiff, thick member sliding against your wet heat, nestled between your folds like guardrails on a track.  His tip drags firmly over your clit before meeting cool air on the other side. 

You moan in your sleep and he stills himself.  You push your ass into him and tilt your hips in your sleep.  His breath deepens, and his heart rate quickens.  His arousal swells even harder.  When he rolls his hips into you again, the swollen head of his cock hitches briefly at your entrance and he has to suppress a groan.  He keeps slowly fucking the sleeve formed by your thighs and folds.   

Joel has never wanted someone so badly.  And even in your sleep, your body must want him, too.  When Joel is mid-thrust, your hips tilt again, catching his tip with your warm, wet hole. Desire seizes him entirely.  He freezes with the tip of his cock nestled half inside you.  He slows his breathing to emulate sleeping before cupping your breast again.  Your ass nudges back into him as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet entrance.  He inhales deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself, but breathing in your scent only hastens his need to be inside you.  

Joel can feel your insides make way for his fat cock as he pushes a little more inside.  He moves his hand to your hip for leverage as he inches further, about half his cock sheathed by your tight pussy at this point.  He pauses to breathe, and you push back on him in your sleep with a moan, taking him further inside you.  Joel retreats slightly, seeking more friction after getting that taste.  Then, his hard cock plunges into you, slowly but decisively, all the way to the hilt.  You’re so snug and warm, you feel like absolute heaven wrapped around him.  It’s a tight squeeze and only made possible by how wet you are.  He stays there, all the way inside, just barely rocking his hips, hand on your breast. Then, with time, his motion becomes less subtle.  

-

You awake with a  gasp to a fullness you’ve never felt before.  It’s nothing but bliss until you get your bearings.  You moan as he bottoms out again, and he’s emboldened by your sound of pleasure.  He stops holding back.  His hard shaft pumps in and out of you, kissing your g-spot.  He grunts and the sound shakes you back to reality.  You’re startled by the realization that this is real. You had been floating in some realm where it was just this disembodied cock, a dream man's arms wrapped around you, giving you the best fuck of your life.  As your knees brush the nylon of the sleeping bag, you jolt at the unmistakable knowledge that this is real, and Joel Miller is inside you.  

You squirm and his arm wraps tight around you, his hand clamps down on your mouth, and he says, “shhhh, it’s okay sugar.”  His hips only pause for a moment before he starts fucking you again, hard and slow.  “Just relax," he says into the back of your earlobe, then nibbles it and kisses your neck. “Let yourself have this.”  You might as well enjoy it.  You'll cope with reality later.  

You marvel at how he fills you up.  It's like he's a part of you. His stiff, thick cock—stiffer and thicker than you’ve ever had–hitting just the right spot.  His rhythm is perfect, and somehow–maybe because he saved your life–you feel so safe in his arms.  He engulfs you entirely and tightens his embrace in rhythm. His hand drifts to your clit.  It’s like he’s fucking you with his whole body.   It doesn't take long until you feel the familiar pressure pounding in your core, begging to release, and then it snaps.  You gasp as your clit pulses and your walls flutter around his cock.  He fucks you through your orgasm, saying, "that's it sugar, good girl, let it ride" and you succumb to the pleasure entirely, writhing in his arms, trying not to moan too loud.  

He groans softly into your neck and pulses inside you. You do nothing to stop him. He cups your breast and digs his nose into the nape of your neck, grunting as his hot load fills you up.  Then, he stays inside.  He strokes your naked body tenderly, and your eyes well up in tears.  Not just because it happened.  Not just because he did this.  Because now you know what you're missing, and you'll know it for the rest of your life. 

-

Check out for survival 2 (one shot) for a similar situation but you're secretly awake.

Also, make sure you read the dbf (pt. 4) 🤐 (but it’s not the same).

The foraging concept is inspired by The Forager by @dark-scape (highly recommend, gigolo!Joel), not the same reader or joel.

-

all joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #toxicanonymity ☠️ #dark!joel miller #cw noncon #tw somnophilia

[konigsblog]

Some thoughts about older Pervy-stepbrother!Simon?

pervy-stepbrother-simon riley that gets off to the sight of your sleeping body... 💤

tw: afab!f!reader, somnophilia, stepcest, non-con/dub-con. 18+

so vulnerable, weak and limp when he presses himself against you... you'd spend the night at his apartment, deciding you'd see your older stepbrother, only for him to become sick and disgusting as his desires became filthy and depraved, taking advantage of his little sister through depravity, all whilst you slept, trusting him.

he pumped his thick dick as it throbbed and pulsed, his thick and calloused fingers curled around his lengthy, slick boner as he admires your every facial expression, his hand beginning to lift your t-shirt through neediness and lust. simon wanted to see more — of course, he'd seen that pretty, swollen cunt, wrapped around his pretty cock — but he wanted to see more... your soft breasts against his calloused skin, rubbing his lengthy boner between your wet thighs whilst his cold hands caress your body.

simon gets into a spooning position, your hair in his face, huffing at the sweet essence in your shampoo. simon lifted your thigh, sliding his meaty cock between them, grinding his hips back and forth as he rubbed your hardened nipples in small circles. through your sleep, you whimpered for more, like the naughty girl you were quickly becoming — rough and scarred hands touching you all over, the tightening in his core sickening, yet so satisfying...

he knew you'd feel so disturbed and mortified and dirty if he'd woke you up, so his movements were slow, agonisingly slow for simon; rolling his broad hips between your thighs as your panties quickly soaked due to his hot and thick pre cum rubbing into the fabric, as well as your dripping cunny, aroused at the stimulation against your clit. ;(

#orla speaks #tw: stepcest #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: somnophilia #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw: dark content #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost headcanon #mw2 ghost #ghost x reader #ghost mwii #reader x ghost

[blueicequeen19]

Somnophilia with dark!stepdad rafe?

Sweet Dreams

Warnings: non-con, Somnophilia, step-cest, choking, praise, degradation, unprotected sex

You woke up to a flutter deep in your gut. You were barely awake as pleasure erupted all over your body, heating coursing through your veins, and seeping from your pussy. You reach between your legs, startled to find something deep inside you. Or someone.

“There she is.” Your step dads voice meets your ears and your eyes snap open. His hand snakes up your chest and wraps around your throat, holding you in place.

“Do you know how long I’ve been in here?” Rafe whispers, his voice thick with lust. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t woken up until now.

“You’re a deep sleeper.” The growl in his voice makes you shudder and clench around him.

“Fuck.” He groans, rocking into you was a slow, lazy rhythm. “You flaunt this body around at all hours of the day and expect me not to want a taste?”

“R-Rafe.” Your eyes start to roll back as your release hits you and Rafe hisses through his teeth, fucking you harder.

“Good girl. Squeeze me just like that. Milk my fucking cock, little slut.” You suck in a breath, his hold on your throat barely allowing you any air as he widens your legs, reaching even deeper.

“Holy fuck, I’m gonna cum. I can’t stop. Jesus, you feel so good. One time isn’t going to be enough. I’m going to need this all the time.” Rafe kisses your neck as he cums, filling you up painfully deep and triggering another orgasm from you.

He was right. One time wouldn’t be enough.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #tw somnophilia #rafecameron #dark rafe cameron #dark!fic #dark!drabble #dark!rafe cameron

[onsunnyside]

💤. 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Stalker!Ari Levinson x reader (College AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK THEMES AND ELEMENTS, SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON, DARK!Ari Levinson, stalking, implied drugging. College IT!Ari, camboy!Ari, outcast!Ari, size difference: 6’8!Ari. non-consensual filming & posting, perving, somnophilia, dirty talk, daddy kink, dry humping, size kink, masturbation (f & m), slight cumplay. 

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Beware the quiet ones.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 1.3K

𝗔/𝗡 | this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic Friday the 13th Challenge, and I picked stalker. Here’s the Pinterest board. this is my first time participating in a challenge, so i'm a little nervous, but here we go !! this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read. all mistakes are my own. [all asks & drabbles]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“I’ll call you when it’s fixed or if anything c-comes up…” 

You nod, quickly gathering your things. His throat tightens, fingers itching for yours. “I-I could walk you home, I don’t have any more appointments today.” 

“It’s fine. I live on campus.” 

“But it’s getting dark—”

“I’m okay.” You repeat firmly, softening the blow with a smile, “but thank you, Ari, I appreciate it.” 

You don’t give him another chance to protest and leave. When you step out, the smell of rain engulfs you, cool air washing away any traces of him, but your goosebumps never leave. 

Whatever. At least it’s done. 

You flip up your hood and start the short trek home, forcing yourself not to glance back—even though you just know he’s watching from the window. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and since your coursework list was neverending, you had no choice but to book an appointment with the IT department. One click, one stupid click on a link was all it took for your laptop to go haywire and then completely unresponsive. 

You couldn’t afford to miss another deadline, even if that meant sitting face-to-face with the campus outcast. 

Nothing was wrong with being alone or preferring solitude, but Ari had a strange energy around him. It was suffocating and unsettling, either too quiet, too friendly, or too close. 

There weren’t many places for him to hide with his towering height and broad stature, yet he blended in almost too naturally, adapting to the surrounding space as if he belonged there—when that was far from the truth. He didn’t belong anywhere, regardless of how hard he tried to pretend so.

The only tell was the feeling of being watched. 

His blue eyes set in steely glare, dissecting you like one of those dead specimens on the aluminum tray.  

You had a lab with him one year, and you remember the shivers crawling up your spine when he smiled and made his way over. You thank the universe every day that Natasha slid into the free chair and asked very loudly if you’d be her partner.  

“He’s a fucking weirdo.” Natasha grumbled in disgust, glaring at his retreating back, “I don’t have to know him to know he’s into freaky shit.”

Rumours were always just gossip, ill judgment spreading around like wildfire but at this point, you’d believe anything about him, anything to fill that empty void of unease.

Was there any proof that he was into fucked up shit? Or that he was a dark web lurker or a disgusting pervert? No, but your gut told you to flee whenever he was around and that was enough.

Ari was a proud introvert, an odd balance between shy and awkwardly friendly. A small part of you pities him—the different, nerdy reject shrouded in alleged disturbed mystery. You’d never admit it but he was devilishly handsome and in an alternative dimension, he’d be exactly your type. 

In any other classes you shared, you purposefully arrived late so he couldn’t sit next to you and so far,  it’s kept him at bay. You felt weird around him but so did everyone else. 

If there were something truly wrong with him, all of those lingering suspicions would’ve exposed him by now, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

It was easy to blame everything on stress, the pressure of school and your impending future weighing heavy on your shoulders. Like most lonely nights, you dive into the virtual passions of the Internet. 

With earbuds in, you scroll through the profiles, your gaze lingering on the lewd photos and biographies. One catches your attention, a little red ‘Top Hot 20’ pinned by the username and a teasing picture of flexed abs and a dark happy trail. You read over his most recent videos: 

Jerking off and cumming in library (almost caught) – public masturbation

Eating sleeping girlfriend’s wet pussy – puffy clit, spitting, pussy slapping

You tap on the last one:

Dry humping girlfriend while she sleeps – dirty talk, cum shot

Clean runners softly pad on the carpet floor, the blanket is pulled back and exposes the girl’s backside. The dim flash barely illuminates her body, just an outline of her figure bathed in the moonlight. His big hand caresses her thighs, wasting no time in rubbing over her core. 

Almost in a trance, you replicate his motions, tracing over your clothed slit as a quiet breath flutters from your lips, drowned out by his heavy groan.

“Look at you, all ready for daddy…” He rasps, his words slurred, “You knew what I needed tonight, huh?” He touches her petals, spreading the panty-clad folds, “Such a cute little pussy, Want me to fuck you?”  

She sleepily rocks against his hand and he laughs, silencing her murmurs with a hand on her back. He manhandles her as he pleases, tossing pillows and blankets to the floor before straddling the back of her thighs.

You exhale and dip your fingers beneath the band of your underwear, seeking that needy bundle. Tingles fill your tummy while you circle your hole, gathering your juices up to your clit. 

His fist squeezes his base and slides up to the angry red tip, smearing the pearly dribbles with his thumb. He’s thick and long, veins protruding from the smooth girth before disappearing under his bushy pubic hair. He grinds against her ass, his pre cum leaking all over her panties.

“You’re so fucking wet, I can smell you.” 

With heavy groans, he rocks against her and the camera shakes. Primal thrusts slide his solid cock between her cheeks, staining the poor cotton. His big hand lands a series of harsh spanks, they’re so hard you feel the burning sensation too. 

You fuck yourself with your fingers in time with his grinds and whine, imagining his fat length rubbing against you just like that. 

“One of these days I’m gonna rub my sack all over your cunt. Get you all messy.” A forceful thrust sends the girl sliding a few inches up the bed. “Awh, you dropped your stuffie, little dummy.” He reaches out of the frame and returns with a stuffed animal. 

It takes you less than a second to recognize the black and white spots. To your horror, he places the stuffie on a pillow and pets the head right between the small horns. 

“There we go, gotta make sure Milky is watching. You gonna be quiet for me now, baby?” He laughs, “oh, why am I even asking? It’s not like you can wake up anyway.” 

Your heart plummets to the ground, shattering every layer of the Earth until falling into the endless oblivion of space.

“Can’t wait to fuck your ass, maybe I’ll do it while you’re sleeping, just like how I ate your cute cunt.” He spits, roughly groping her—your flesh, “bet you woke up all sore. Was wondering why you were so sensitive, like someone tortured your pussy.” He curses lowly and his hips stutter,  “sorry for bein’ so mean. You make me into a fucking animal.” 

All air is yanked from your body when his cum spurts out, covering your panties and lower back. He groans shamelessly, jerking off with his own seed to expel every last drop before pulling down the back of your stained panties. He rubs it into your skin like a sick claim of ownership. 

“I love you so much, baby. You have no fuckin’ clue.”

Despite the lightheadedness, you scroll to the comments. Every blink momentarily focuses your blurry vision on the bright screen: 

Cute stuffed animal lol

should’ve taken her panties off. I wanted to see that pretty pussy

damn, she’s knocked out cold. How does she sound when she’s awake?

MrSinister: absolutely divine. She’ll be awake in my next video, I promise.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: my oh my 🫡 i feel very dirty, like i need to physically scrub my brain from this whore behaviour. happy Saturday besties.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! be sure to check out the other fics for bones' challenge !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

#dark #dark!ari levinson #Ari Levinson #writing challenge #Ari Levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfic #stalker!​Ari Levinson #dark ​Ari Levinson #Friday the 13th challenge #stalker ​Ari Levinson #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x female reader #Ari Levinson smut #ari levinson fanfiction #camboy!​Ari Levinson #camboy ​Ari Levinson #IT ​guy ​Ari Levinson #tw somnophilia #tw somno #sonny’s stories #sleepy hollow au #tw dark #red sea diving resort #Ari Levinson au #Chris evans characters #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

[blueparadis]

gn!reader, dark content.

reversed cursed technique. a powerful skill set to possess that has a great range of healing purposes; bites and hickeys are nothing that can't be healed with it yet Satoru refuses to do that.

He has even mentioned it to shoko not to teach you it either because he thinks, whatever he asks you to do, you don't listen and whatever he asks you not to, you do it specifically. Plus, he loves leaving marks on you. It is a reminder that he is there, lingering on your skin.

And whenever you return from any mission with him, Shoko just teases you how your body is covered with hickeys and marks when you visit her for regular checkup. But one time when, she notices that there are no hickeys anywhere on your body. Maybe it's due to work pressure and the fact that you have been going to missions with other sorcerers, not just Satoru.

“Is everything okay with Satoru?” she asks you undress yourself.

“yeah, what about him ?” you ask with so much nonchalance in your tone that it makes Shoko brows knit together.

“just that you are. . . spotless.” She stands against the table lighting her cigerette. “Generally, i see a lot of marks and I know you are a capable fighter so. . .” she trails off does not necessarily disclose she is aware of your relationship with Satoru. Shoko bites her lips to hold her smile thinking how foolish of you to think it is to assume people will see marks around your chest and take it as just battle scratches.

Your lips part to speak but then it dies at the tip of your tongue. You cross your legs and with a smile you say, “Well, it's just that — you stammer, trying to squeeze sympathy out of her.

Shoko doesn't want to let the realisation sink in her mind. She does not think Satoru would do it, marking you in your sleep when you are unaware and at his mercy. Her cigerette keeps burning as you fidget with hands looking down. Did you really had no idea how those marks originated? Did you truly believe it was because of fighting and exorcising curses ?

“I’m tired of fighting him now.”

Such whiplash on her assumptions. Such a pleasure to see her eyes drowned in worry and just for you.

#blueparadis snippets #satoru gojo hcs #satoru gojo headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #cw dark content #gojo drabbles #gojo satoru drabble #satoru gojo drabble #jjk smut #gojo x reader #shoko x reader #gojo x you #shoko x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru scenario #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #cw dubious consent #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #shoko ieri x reader #cw yandere #yandere romance #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk drabbles

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: incubus!grimmjow jaegerjacquez x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

about: the ravenous desire of your roommate never seems to abate despite the late nights he spends outside of the comfort of your apartment. when he approaches you, the truth comes out. can you fulfill the appetite of an incubus?

contents: nsfw - mdni. cw dark content - dubcon, somnophilia. brief mention of masturbation (f), unprotected penetrative sex (piv), light degradation (slut/slutty), creampie, possessiveness. reader is only partially awake/aware through the fic and assumes she's dreaming.

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! yall ever wanted to fuck a cat boy demon before bc i know i have and here he is in all his weirdo glory. what i love about doing this is that it rly forces me out of my element (writing more smut bc historically i haven't enjoyed writing it all that much) and exploring new/darker concepts i haven't always felt like i have the ability to write.

hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Since you signed your lease nine months ago, you’ve always had a standing agreement with your strange roommate Grimmjow.

“If you need anything, just knock on my door and I’ll be there.”

You aren’t sure why you felt compelled to offer your time or support to the man in the first place - perhaps it was your too tender heart taking one roving glance over him and realizing that he simply looked like he needed someone. Eyes like a predator, narrowed and a sharp, angular frame in an oversized t-shirt. You met him through an online post looking for a roommate and desperation, and the end of your relationship, gave you no option but to accept. The situation appeared too fortuitously for you to turn it down.

The past nine months have gone as swimmingly as one could expect living with a stranger would, though. 

He comes and goes without much fuss but if you are honest with yourself - you find some of his habits strange. You try not to think too hard about them, after all you’re just his roommate and he owes you no explanation, but there are times where you wonder why he skulks late at night. When he comes home after these late night adventures, you always notice him looking rested the next day and it has never made sense to you. The dark circles under his eyes seem to magically abate and his posture fixes itself, walking tall and strong across the scuffed wooden floors the two of you share.

Aside from this, though - he pays his half of the rent on time, he manages to clean up after himself as well as you can expect, and he asks you no questions about who you are or what you’re doing with your life.

Until tonight, strangely enough.

“What are you gettin’ up to tonight?” 

Grimmjow’s voice is a growl more so than anything else, as long as you’ve known him it has been this way, but it sounds different. Lower, perhaps. You tip your head to the side and offer a half smile, shrugging and letting the collar of your oversized t-shirt fall off of your shoulder enough to expose the flesh beneath it.

“Weather’s supposed to be shitty so I’m staying in. Same as usual.” 

He hums his answer, stretching his legs to place his feet on the table across from the couch where you both sit. You take a moment to look over him - blue eyes and hair to match. You’ve never asked him if the hair color is natural, assuming the opposite is true, but you have never seen a hint of dark brown or blonde growing out of his head. 

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’ve never seen him do but you’ve always just assumed he does them at night while he’s out but you try too hard not to think about it. The two of you have a no questions asked policy, at least silently you’ve agreed to one but you bite further, breaking your own internal code to pry for details.

“How about you?”

Shifting where he sits, he puts his arms up over his head and readjusts his legs, one foot resting on top of the other. You watch his shift in posture, eyes trailing up long legs and admiring the way his bicep bulges with the angle his arm is bent at. It’s strange but you’ve never taken the time to really look at your roommate in all these months but now that you are.

He’s pretty hot. 

You look away quickly, hoping you weren’t caught in the act of boundary bouncing, placing your hands in your lap primly and he smirks, settling into the couch behind him with a few wiggles of his shoulders. He takes his turn looking at you, a smile you’re trying to hide and hair still damp after getting out of the shower, and he wonders how you haven’t caught onto him yet. This isn’t the first time he has eyed you with those blazing, partially sunken eyes but you feel the intensity of it this time and tuck your shoulders forward to hide the embarrassment of being seen.

“Might stick around,” he sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Feelin’ kinda hungry though.”

Instantly, you beam. Perhaps this could be a good way for the two of you to actually get to know each other since you have never really shared a meal with the man outside of shitty pizza on the nights you’ve stayed up late enough to greet him before he leaves and doesn’t return until sunrise. 

“I can make us some dinner if you wanna stick around? If not, I get it, it’s not supposed to get super bad out until later.”

What you don’t realize is that the hunger he’s speaking of is something very different than what can be sated by what you’re offering. Despite this, for a brief moment, he considers it and you watch him do so. He licks his bottom lip, pink tongue darting out and takes one of his hands off of the back of his head  to rub his thumb in the wet trail left behind by the motion.

“Nah, I gotta do a couple things.”

Heat you’ve never felt before crawls up the back of your neck and you look away again. You’re flustered, the effortless eroticism of whatever just happened making your skin feel itchy, and he chuckles. 

What could possibly be so funny? 

You think of the question but don’t say it aloud, almost embarrassed at his reaction to you. Did you misread his suggestion? Did you just make the next three months of your lease unbearably awkward? 

Grimmjow takes his feet off the table and places them on the ground, leaning forward and your gaze falls on the forward bend of his spine and the way the overgrown hair at the nape of his neck curls slightly. 

Why are your eyes so drawn to him today? It feels as though it takes all of your self control just to look away but you manage to, cheeks warm and hairline dappled with sweat. This feeling is strange in a way that you lack the words to explain and you keep your eyes trained on the ground even as he stands up and stretches, his shirt exposing the bottom of his abdomen.

“I’ll take you up on your offer another night, though.”

Flicking your eyes upward, you catch the sliver of tanned skin just above his waistline and another rash of heat crawls across your face. Your mouth is dry and you nod, lifting your face enough to give him an uncertain and forced smile.

“You alright?” Again, you nod. It’s all you can do right now until you have a sip of water or get some air or…something. He smirks and gives you a sidelong glance as he heads toward the door.

“Get some fresh air, it might make you feel better.”

Your face heats further knowing that he can tell what’s happening to you but he makes no other comment. The sound of him slipping on his jacket and boots fills the otherwise quiet apartment and he opens the door hoping he can find something to sate this appetite before he comes home and makes it your problem.

Judging by how you reacted to him tonight, though, you may not be all that upset if he does make it your problem but that’s a boundary to be tested another time.

“Fuck,” you whimper with your lip tucked between your teeth, the squelching of your fingers working in and out of your own sopping cunt filling your bedroom interspersed with whines and moans both from you and the little video on your phone.

The moment Grimm left, the heat became unbearable. You thought about taking your shorts off right on the couch and letting your fingers explore but held yourself back, instead taking a few minutes to walk around, have something to drink, to see if the need started to feel less intense.

After several minutes of intense pacing, you decided to take care of the issue yourself. Sure, it’s perverted and wrong to feel this turned on simply by taking a good hard look at your damn near otherworldly roommate but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and after this you’ll go back to keeping your distance.

Letting your fingers dip further inside of you, you gasp, mouth forming the first letter of his name. Immediately you freeze, shocked that you’d be so brazen despite the apartment being empty, and you shut your eyes tightly and silently work yourself toward orgasm with someone else’s pleas for more playing through the speaker on your phone. 

A little whimper is all you manage, walls clenching around your digits. It isn’t the best you’ve ever had but it isn’t the worst either and it seems like enough for now to help your racing heartbeat calm down to something more manageable. Withdrawing your fingers with a deep breath, filling your lungs completely before emptying them in the same fashion by exhaling, you roll over onto your side, locking and tossing your phone on the bedside table. 

What the fuck just happened? What the fuck has this entire evening been?

Chuckling at the absurdity of the past few hours, you reach around blindly for something to wipe your sticky hand on and settle on the t-shirt you discarded earlier. You know you need to get up but you feel pleasantly dazed instead, wiping your fingers and keeping your heavy eyes shut. 

Free from embarrassment and far less wound up, you start to doze. The room is cool and the fall storm the news warned you about blows outside, the gentle sound of thunder lulling you into an unexpected but much needed rest. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear a knock, knock, knock at your cracked bedroom door.

Eyes fluttering open just enough to see Grimmjow standing in the doorway, you shut and open them just to make sure you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. It’s too dark to make out all of him but your blurry eyes scan his face, noticing his cheeks look almost hollow and the same deep dark circles beneath his eyes before he left tonight look darker and heavier. 

“Grimm?” You ask and his response is a low growl, footsteps echoing through your quiet room as he pads toward the edge of your bed. “Are you okay?”

He stalks like a predator across the floor, making methodical and swift footfalls at the foot of your bed. You sit up, forgetting that you fell asleep completely nude, and his pacing stops when his eyes settle on your exposed breasts, your blanket bunched beneath them.

“I’m hungry,” he repeats just as he did earlier and you are too tired to figure out what he means. Giggling, you still haven’t noticed the way he eyes you hungrily, stiffened nipples grabbing his attention and keeping it. 

“Couldn’t find anything good to eat while you were out?”

Your words are a jumble, something that would make sense to no one else but the man who has lived with you for 9 months who has figured out your morning sleepy voice and the way it all blurs together. He approaches the edge of your bed and sits down, watching you lay back down and settle against your comforter.

“Nothing sounded good,” he admits, flipping around and crawling on all fours up the bed. You’re so sweet and disarmed, rain pattering on the windowpane while your chest rises and falls and your eyes fight to stay shut. “Definitely not as good as what’s at home.”

You giggle again, eyes closed so you don’t notice the way the distance between the two of you closes further. His body is large but lithe and each movement sends him closer and closer to you until he catches the scent of something familiar.

Arousal. 

He grins, feral and large, crawling the extra few inches to fully envelop you. Caging you in with his arms, your eyes open and see his face inches from yours, his bare chest almost pressing against your own.

“What are you doing?”

The question doesn’t seem alerted or concerned, just curious, and sleepy you reaches out to brush your fingers down the defined bicep holding him up. He chuckles and the sound makes the same heat you felt hours ago crawl up your neck and that’s the moment you realize something is different about him. Your hackles raise slightly and you sit up but he pushes you back down gently, hand splayed between your breasts.

“You said I could come to you for anything I needed, right?”

Despite the fact his hand feels so hot it could burn a hole straight through your body, you nod. You offered yourself months ago and he had yet to take advantage of your kindness. Leaning down, he watches your eyes fully open and presses his forehead to yours.

“I need you,” he mutters and your eyes meet his. A storm of blue, a flurry of something you have never seen before. He groans, almost looking pained and you gasp and hold onto his bicep. You can put two and two together, intelligent and alert enough to manage that much, and your hand slides over where his palm rests on your chest. 

“Like this?” You ask, sliding his hand from the space between your breasts to cupping one of them and he nearly growls feeling your skin beneath his fingers. His thumb dances over your hardened nipple and you gasp, shivering beneath him.

“Bet you never thought you’d end up with somethin’ like me in your apartment,” he taunts, hand tracing down your body, mapping out your stomach and hips. You don’t think much of his words, lost to the sensation of being touched and the heat incinerating all rational thought inside of you, but one word catches your interest and you repeat it.

“Don’t you mean someone?”

Another chuckle shakes his body, his fingers caressing your thigh. He shakes his head where it’s pressed against yours and you can only watch when he licks his lips again just as he did earlier, the motion making your head spin.

“Nah, I’m a somethin’.”

With this, he wants to stop further questioning and he leans in to kiss you. By this point your mind should be catching up, alert and awake, but you aren’t convinced this isn’t some kind of strange horny dream you managed to conjure up so you kiss him back eagerly. The wet sound of lips smacking together in a frenzy fills the room, tongues sliding against one another and you even yelp when he nips at your lower lip, sucking the fullness of it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand that was tracing across your thighs now pushing them open. He paws at your still slick pussy, a thick finger slipping between your lips with little resistance. He revels in the feeling of your hot arousal, smearing it around your hole and rubbing little circles around your clit rather than on it that make you whimper.

“Grimm,” you pant and he only chuckles, a second digit joining the first in spreading your wetness. The pressure of the two fingers makes your hips buck, desperate for more.

“You've been having fun without me? Sure feels like it.”

Puzzled, you wonder what he means until you realize that he can insert a finger inside of you without any resistance, still worked open from your previous attempts to get yourself off. Walls clenching around the single digit, he groans into your ear. Your warmth feels luxurious, like silk. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for.

“I don’t mind,” he continues massaging your walls with his finger in the way only an expert can. You surely must be dreaming, none of your other partners have ever been this skilled with just their fingers, and you let yourself have this moment. What’s the worst that could happen? “Gettin’ this eager little pussy all ready for me is almost too nice of you.”

The words are filthy and they make you whine, hips bucking against his hand and where it rests over the top of your pelvis. You’re greedy, desperate for more. He could do just about anything to you right now and you know that you’d let him, drooling pussy leaking down his finger.

“You want more? Tired of feelin’ so empty?”

The slow rolls of your hips tell him all he needs to know and he uses his free hand to slip out of the sweatpants he wore into your bedroom, cock already hard and leaving a wet spot on the front of them. He rolls his eyes, tossing them aside as fluidly as he can while still keeping you full of his fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what we both need. Gonna fill this fuckin’ slutty pussy up, give you what you were almost beggin’ me for earlier.”

Ah yes, that. Even dream you can’t escape the embarrassment of his effect on you in the living room but you let the feeling go, instead focusing on how good it feels every time the pad of his finger brushes against the spot deepest inside of you that your own fingers could never reach. 

“I want it,” you admit aloud. He smirks, finger withdrawing from you and making you whine. Your body feels as hot as it did hours ago and twice as wound up, clit throbbing from lack of attention. Blood pulses in your ears and you look up, witnessing the way he’s coating his shaft in his own precum with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fill you up just like you need,” he coos, it’s so condescending but you hardly notice, too busy reveling in the way it feels when the fat head of his cock brushes through your folds. You don’t have to think about anything right now and you embrace the feeling, allowing him control. 

What he doesn’t mention is that he needs it even more than you do, the maw inside of him demanding that he slip inside of you just like he is now.

He shudders, body tensing as he sheaths himself inside of you in one sharp movement, your breath catching in your throat when his balls slap against your ass. He’s so impossibly deep and despite how wet and opened up you are, your cunt stretches deliciously to accommodate his girth. 

Again, this has to be a dream. Nothing in real life could ever feel this good and your toes curl, spread legs shifting to link at the ankles and wrap around his waist. You feel the firmness of his ass against your calves as he grinds into you, the gentleness ending as quickly as it started when he draws his hips back completely and thrusts back inside of you in one swift motion.

Your back arches off of the bed and he drinks in the sight of you, flashes of lightning outside allowing enough light to leak in to give him a good look at everything he has been vying to see. The knot inside of him slowly starts to untangle, his furious pace making your body bounce up the bed and he wonders why he waited this long to just give in.

Perhaps he’s losing his touch after years. He could’ve just snuck in and taken you any evening he wanted to, you wouldn’t be the first he’d done it to given his nearly unquenchable thirst, but he wanted you to want it too. To want him. To give yourself to him.

He chuckles like a wild man, leaning over your body and kissing you again while holding your hips in place to fuck you wildly.

“Takin’ me so well I might have to make you all mine,” he offers and you moan, clenching around him. So you liked that, he takes a note. You like being wanted, you like being taken. He knew it from the moment he saw you but he always loves it when a gut feeling is confirmed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Lettin’ an incubus use your pussy whenever he wants like a slut, right?”

Your eyes widen at the word. Incubus - you recall reading some asinine online story about a woman who swore she’d been fucked by one years ago but again, this is your weird dream about your abnormally hot roommate so you don’t question it. 

“Yeah, I love it Grimm,” you whisper against his mouth, tongue too heavy to say much else. You’ve never felt like this before, body singing and silky walls clinging to his cock, and you’re ready to let yourself start the endless freefall of pleasure, eyes shutting tightly while he grunts above you.

“That’s right, I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

Keeping your eyes screwed shut, you only nod and he lets you grind against his pelvis, clit brushing the dusting of blue hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and silky and it’s just what you need, friction spurring you further into bliss as you cum with a shout, eyes shooting open.

This isn’t a dream, you realize suddenly, feeling Grimm’s cock drilling in and out of you at a breakneck pace. You are in your bed, thunder rolling outside, your phone on the bedside table, your body bouncing with every thrust. Your blue haired roommate hovers just above you, face twisted in pleasure while glancing down at where the two of you are joined, the slick sound of your pussy bringing you to reality.

This is really happening and honestly, you just..let it. 

Reaching for Grimmjow, you card your fingers through his hair, and he lets his eyes flutter closed. Your fingers dance through the same short hair at the nape of his neck you were admiring hours earlier and he grunts, hips stilling. Using both hands to hold you in place, he fills your eager cunt full of his creamy release and you moan along with him.

Unceremoniously, he slumps forward and your chests touch. You giggle and kiss his forehead, looking down to see him looking far better than he did when he entered your room. His eyes don’t gleam dangerously anymore and the dark circles seem to have sorted themselves out, his face resting on the top of your breast.

“Hey Grimm?”

He looks up, surprised you’re alert enough to even let that much come out of your mouth. 

“Everything you said…”

You don’t have to elaborate further, he’s aware of what you’re asking. Is it true? Did he admit what he really is, what the source of his appetite is?

“Yup.”

You don’t ask for further explanation and he doesn’t plan on giving it, content to let you run your fingers through his hair as the storm rages outside.

#grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #kendall writes #thot-o-ween 2023 #monster mash 2023 #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #cw dark content