Sometimes when I leave my window open at night I think about someone watching me, someone taking pictures of me when I slip back in from out of the shower, staring quietly right there in front of me but I can’t see him, my room being so bright and the outside being so dark. I like to think he listens to me get off, to the blankets shifting and how I whine and gasp imagining how I’d react to someone’s hands that aren’t my own. Hands down his own pants as I send myself over the edge. He’d know I take something to help me sleep, he’d test how far he can go, from making smaller noises to whispering the things he’d do to me, pushing my window open more, climbing inside to look at all the stuff in my room, to look at me. I like to think about him pulling the blankets off me slowly, watching intently for the slightest shift, any warning that I’m waking up but I never do. He’d slide his hands up my thighs, pushing them apart as delicately as he can when I press them together in subconscious reaction to the heat growing between my legs. Some nights he’d stop there, hands wandering my body, watching me squirm and whine for more. It’d take him a while to confirm what he always knew, I’m a hopeless slut. Other nights he’d touch me, he’d push my boxers down and my tee shirt up, gathering fabric up around my chin that barely muffle the needly noises I make in my sleep. Eventually it won’t be enough to just touch and and touch himself, the pictures he has aren’t doing it anymore, I’m not wrecked enough, he needs to wreck me more. He doesn’t care if I wake up anymore, he’s trained me so well, he knows I want it. When I do wake up I’m too far gone to do anything other then beg for more of his cock, other then weakly gasp and moan as he tells me how much of a whore I am for him, how pretty I look, as he instructs me to hold my pose and my tired mind keeps pulling my eyes closed again, the sleep that has yet to leave me making everything feel fuzzy and warm, so much so that if it weren’t for the cum leaking out of me when I wake up again in the morning I wouldn’t know if it was a dream or not.
Posting about my fantasies isn’t an excuse for you freaks to do or say weird creepy shit, this is me time I don’t give a fuck about the fucked up shit you wanna do.
Tags/tw: Breeding, Somnophilia, mating press, oral (m. receive), established relationship
WC: 2k
A/N: Here it is @tetsurousharlot ! This one came to me easy I hope you like it!
You’re not sure what it is that wakes you initially, but you do know that sleep is evading you entirely now. It’s the middle of the night and you’re standing in the kitchen with a glass of water, pulling your robe tighter around your body to chase away the chill. Between your boyfriend and his roommate, you’re always outvoted when it comes to the thermostat.
Grumbling internally about Suna and Osamu and their stupid hot-blooded bodies, you finish your water and pad back down the hall to your boyfriend’s bedroom and push the door open softly.
Suna is right where you left him when you snuck out of the bedroom for a drink, his chest rising and falling steadily as he slumbers on. You’re half annoyed but mostly amused at how deeply he can sleep almost every night, more than a little jealous. If it weren’t for his loud and many many alarms, he’d never wake up on time in the mornings.
He shifts only slightly as you slide back into the bed with him, watching him carefully for signs that he’s waking as you run your palm down towards his inner thighs. When you get little more than a soft inhale, you smile and inch your hands higher until your fingers are hooked in his waistband.
what if i take just enough of my sleep meds so you can still take complete advantage of me while i’m semi-conscious … wouldn’t it be so much fun to gaslight me into thinking i’m just having a wet dream while you use my body?
