Rockstar boyfriend takes you on tour with him and his band "Cheap Riot." How could he leave his sexy girlfriend in another city? Especially with all those sluts out there trying to get a piece of his cock. He needs alcohol, drugs, and sex to function. You're his girl. You're always his best fuck. He needs to ram his cock deep inside you to think; that's how his best songs are born.
He fucks you in the back seat of the van, the music is loud, there's laughter and the smell of cigarettes, the rest of the band are high and drinking, groping groupies. They're just inches away from the two of you, your nails dig into the leather seat, and you bite your lip and bury your face in the seat, trying to stifle your moans without much success. His thick cock goes in and out of your pussy again and again, his fat balls slap against your ass, and the swollen veins rub deliciously against your vaginal walls. Your eyes roll back in your head with pleasure.
You moan sharply as he pulls your hair, your scalp burning and tingling, forcing you to stand, your back pressed against his firm chest. His large hand grips your throat, cold rings biting your skin as you tilt your head onto his shoulder. His other hand slides down, gently caressing your skin over your belly until it reaches your pussy, rubbing your bundle of nerves as his cock drills inside you.
He kisses your cheek, his hot breath on your ear, his teeth nipping at your lobe and tugging at it. You moan softly at the tingling that makes your pussy clench, and he laughs before relieving the itch with his tongue. ❝—Don't hold back your moans, baby, let everyone know you're my whore.❞ You arch your back as his fingers begin to rub firm circles over your stimulated clit. He kisses your neck, and his hand at your throat tightens as his pleasure grows.
Your eyes roll back, your whole body tenses as his cock hits your sweet spot again and again; Your pussy contracts and throbs, when he bites your neck you come with a sharp moan, he moves his hips with more vigor without stopping rubbing your overstimulated clitoris which makes you writhe in his grip, minutes of torture later he cums your vision goes blurry when he squeezes his hand on your throat, strings of hot and thick semen fill your uterus and flood your inside.
When he finally lets go, you collapse onto the couch, dazed. He pulls his cock out of your used cunt and puts it inside his pants, zips them up, and fastens his bullet belt. He adjusts his hair before turning you around, grabs your panties lying on the floor and pulls them up your legs, his ringed hands resting on your thighs; a wicked smile spreads across his lips.
❝—The best fuck of my life, baby, now I want your sweet moans to be in a song on the new album.❞
JJK: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Sukuna | Naruto Shippuden: Sasuke, Madara, Indra | Hunter x Hunter: illumi, Hisoka, Chrollo, kurapika | BNHA: Bakugo | Demon Slayer: Sanemi, Muzan, Douma, Akaza | One Piece: Zoro, Doflamingo, Buggy | And everyone else who wants to.
cw: jesus christ. dead dove, do not eat tbh. smut !!MDNI!! dubcon, cnc, stalking behavior, somno, degrading dirty talk, coming inside, bondage, gags, dacryphilia. no pronouns or physical descriptors for reader used!
masterlist
🕸️ arachnid!peter whose only tell is the way the black of his pupils consume the white, a visual signal that pure instinct has taken over. that, and his uncanny silence.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who stalks you in the dead of night, often watching you sleep after he gets done with patrol. who sits in the corner of your bedroom, nestled in the dark crook of the goddamn ceiling, lying in wait.
🕸️ arachnid!peter whose every sense is focused solely on you. the way the scent of your shampoo and fabric softener intoxicates him, or how your voice would make his bones vibrate. the way he could hear the blood rushing under your fucking skin.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who often shows up unannounced and with zero hesitation to interrupt whatever you were doing before. who doesn't say a word as he bends you over the nearest surface, literally tearing the bottoms clean off your body.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who loves to leave marks on you, a physical reminder that he had claimed you. that you were his.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who fucks you hard despite your cries and pleas for him to stop, who goes harder with the insatiable need to be inside of you. he can't stop once he starts, instinct consuming his every action as he feels the way your warm walls tremor around his painfully swollen cock.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who finally speaks, and it's even more of a shock than the unsettling silence he met you with before. who growls in your ear, telling you of what a fucking slut you are, jesus. praising you for how well you take him, because fuck you're s'perfect, baby. made for me to fuck whenever i want. nothing but a fucking toy for me to take my frustration out on.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who loves to come inside of you over and over and over again, leaving you fucked out on the bed as he steps back to relish in the sight of you oozing his release. he loves watch as your quivering muscles push him out, proud to have claimed you inside and out with his fucking webbing.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who uses his organic webbing to his advantage, pinning your limbs down and gagging you. who traps your arms above your head until you've lost all feeling and your fingers have turned white. who fucking loves to use his webs as a plug to keep his come inside of you, especially after he's fucked you in the dead of night while you were asleep. who gets a kick out of knowing you'll wake up and have to feel what he did to you. what he left behind for you.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who loves to see you cry, even if the sight of your tears pulls a bit more of peter parker to the front. whose blackened eyes retract a bit, showing a glimpse of white - a flash of remorse - as he holds you and fucks you harder.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who hears your cries, and whose dirty talk devolves from a rasped god, such a pretty fucking crier. so desperate for my cock, you're fucking crying for it, to soft apologies, incessant pleas of i'm sorry, i'm s'sorry baby, don't cry. i'm sorry, i can't stop. you know i can't stop. it'll be over soon, you're doing s'good.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who follows you through the city as you walk home from work or the library at night, swinging through the streets and tracking your every movement. who hunts you down and strategically times his stride to pull you down a dark alleyway where he webs your mouth shut to keep you quiet and has his way with you.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who sometimes likes to leave the mask on. just the mask.
🕸️ arachnid!peter whose same primal need to fuck you is matched with the innate drive to take care of you after he's violated you. who takes his time cleaning you up and redressing you, making sure you properly rehydrate and don't push yourself the rest of the day.
🕸️ arachnid!peter who is sexy as hell??? dare i say???
cw: rough p in v, choking, over stimulation, cock sleeve, smoking
a/n: Sleepy’s first smut post for this fandom. Ovulation is a fucking monster. Only lightly edited because I’m trying to write something once a week come hell or high water and I'm out of time.
Soap loved to have you on his lap, wouldn’t allow his bonnie to lift a single finger while he fucked you into oblivion. This time, you’d told him you were going to take a shower because you felt gross after a work out, but he wanted to make sure you were well and truly dirty before washing off the tangy smelling sweat he loved on you. Pheromones, he claimed. He waited until you’d disrobed, grabbed you around the waist, hauled you out of the bathroom, and shucked off his boxers right before falling back against the couch cushions. He’d let you grind against his dick for a bit, lubing him up with feigned control, before lifting you, lining himself up, and slamming you down just to watch you scream.
“Fuckin’ hell, bonnie,” he grunts, hands gripping your ass with a bruising strength. He uses his hips to toss you up and down his cock, “Ye were gonnae let aw this sweet slick get washed down teh drain? No’ on ma watch.”
Your nails dig into the nape of his neck, fingers twisted in the base of his mohawk as you were used as his own personal fleshlight. One rough hand jumps from your ass to where your bodies are joined together, pushing his fingers in next to his cock in your tight hole to stretch you further. Without breaking pace, he continues bouncing you while sucking his fingers clean. His eyes rolling back with your taste shoves you over the edge.
Your first orgasm is raw and shocking, his name torn from your chest as he fucked you through it with ease. As you come down, your hips go pliant and he drives you towards the next one. If there came a day where he only gave you one orgasm, you’d know he was an imposter sent by the enemy. You didn’t have enough brain power left to do anything but feel his beefy arms lifting you up and sinking you back down over his cock.
“Still nae ready fer a shower,” He grins, mouth sucking marks into your breasts between grunts, glancing down at the creamy ring at the base of his cock, “Gottae get ye real dirty, donnae wan’ ta waste water, aye?”
Sex with Soap was sometimes only twenty minutes, but the man’s ability to pull four orgasms out of you in that time left you wondering why others needed hours to achieve such a simple feat.
Price doesn’t have you on his lap very often, much preferring you on your back where he can hold you in a mating press and work himself into you until you’re fruitlessly trying to push him off of you. Sometimes though, after a hellish day of desk work, he wants to be selfish— deserves to be selfish. So he gets comfortable in his favorite arm chair, lights a cigar, and sits back to watch you bounce yourself on his cock.
And gods did you love to ride him, to take your pleasure just how you liked, alternating between rolls and impaling yourself on his meaty cock. John loved to watch your pleasure, your cute little moans and whines turn him on like no other. The only problem, if you could even call it that, was if you coughed from the smoke, your cunt would clench around him so nicely that he’d decide to come right then and there regardless of if you’d found your own release. You had to alternate between slow even breaths timed against his plumes of smoke to keep yourself from ending things too quickly.
“So greedy…” He murmurs, blowing smoke just above your head, enough to make your eyes water from the acrid heat. Whimpering, you pick up the pace, moving your hands from his chest to behind you, clenched his thighs for support. Your hips roll and bounce over him, moans spilling freely as you find the right angle for yourself and pick up the pace. Every raise of your hips burned your muscles and you were fighting against your own pussy walls sucking him back into your heat. He doesn’t mind the wavering pace, your cunt is his favorite place to be no matter the position. “All I’m doin’ is sittin’ here, but you like usin' me to feel good, don’t you? Come on, lass. Find your pleasure before I do.”
A keen is caught behind your bitten lip, nodding furiously as you work yourself over him. He was thick, stretching you out on every drop and only occasionally hitting your cervix. When a particularly harsh roll of your hips lights up your spine with a zip of pain, your hand slips and you nearly fall backwards off the chair. Price is quick to catch you, hauling you back up with a smirk.
“Careful… if I drop this cigar, I’ll have to start a new one.”
Gaz has his arm banded across the front of your hips, the other hand holding the base of your throat. Your back is to his chest as he pumps himself into you with steady thrusts. “Such a sweet little thing for me, just stay right here, yeah? Lemme take care of this sweet cunt for you.”
“Kyyyle…” You whine, hands pawing at his meaty thighs, but it's no use trying to get away. Once Gaz has you, you’re not going anywhere until he’s decided you’re both done. His cock’s natural curve drags against your walls at the perfect angle in this position and he’s ruthlessly precise about it. His grip tightens around your throat at ythe plea, not breaking the rhythm that has you climbing a familiar peak.
Gaz hushes you with a kiss to your temple, tongue darting out to taste the sweat beading at your hairline. It didn’t matter to him how long it took you to come, because once he’s picked a pace, that’s where you’ll both finish. You got off on his subtle control, the willing bondage of pleasure you gave up to him.
“Gonna come for me, babydoll?” He whispers, nipping your earlobe when your head lolls back against his shoulder with a shudder. He adjusts the arm pinning your hips as your back arches off his chest, “Come on then, squeeze me, babydoll.” His words send you over, a choked cry presses your flexing throat muscles against his palm.
When he feels your slick drip down his thighs, he moves again, slow punching thrusts into your silken walls as you mewl in over stimulation. Always the gentleman, he makes sure to give you exactly what you need before finding his own release. It’s only a few minutes later before he’s biting into the junction of your shoulder and flooding you with his come. Even as his cock softens and more slick drips down your thighs, he rolls you over himself just to hear the broken record of his ruined lover.
Ghost puts you on his lap when you’ve been a brat- bending over to pick things up you could have reached your arm down to get, pouting with a swish of your hips when he tells you to wait until he’s done with work, mentioning this fancy new vibrator your single friend swears by… all this left you sitting on his lap, fully dressed sans panties. He’d unzip his pants enough to free his cock, pull up your skirt around your hips, and impale you on his dick without preamble as he sat at his desk. If you moved, you got a slap to the ass, if you whined, he’d pinch your nipple, but usually if you were quiet and let him finish his work, he’d fuck you into next week.
You were not in the mood to be good today, he’d only gotten back from deployment a day ago but had only fucked you twice! You’d felt an achy emptiness the entire month he was gone and now you only got the occasional slow grind of his cock against your womb when he shifted position.
“Please please please… need more… please, Si…” You whine feverishly, fat tears in your eyes from how long he’s kept you stretched full without release.
“More? My cock isn’t enough for you anymore? Only gone for a month and you’re fucking feral for it.”
Ghost huffs, trying to ignore the smell of arousal permeating the room, seeping under his mask and trapping him in the smell he craved more than air. His gloved hand slips between your bodies, a single finger pressing rough circles into your clit. When you tried to roll against the friction he pulled his hand back, “Move and you lose it.”
Your lip pouts out in frustration and need, but you nod, biting your lip and focusing on staying still. At least this way, you’d finally be able to come. His finger brings you to the edge quickly, your whole body clenching around his cock like it had been weeks since your last release. Tiny twitches of your hips are the only movement he’ll allow besides the squeezing of your arms around his shoulders. You’re rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as he was squeezed like a vice by your wet walls.
His finger doesn’t stop its assault on your clit, his other hand leaving his work to hold your hips down against him, “No, you’re not done. You want to come on my cock so bad? Take it.”
You gasp, squirming against the overstimulation as tears fall down your cheeks. It’s not until the third orgasm he tears out of you that you realize his game— he would keep his cock resting deep inside you, not moving an inch, until the sweet clench of your repeated orgasms made him come.
Yan!Targaryen Men (Aenys, Jaehaerys I, Brynden, Maekar, Baelor Breakspear, Aerion, Daeron the drunken) with sister!Darling
note: once again, here I stay awake in the middle of the night as I write this, also reader is adopted (how that works idk), apologize for brynden and maekar being shorter than the others. MINORS DNI AND PLEASE READ THE TAGS
Who else can care better for you than your older brother
Tags: YANDERE, SMUT, Incest (could be psuedo), DUBCON/NONCON, Loss of virginity, corruption kink, toxic relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, Period sex, power dynamics
Aenys I Targaryen
Your brother Aenys was always frail and soft-hearted. Standing so different from your father and other brother. While Aenys was never close to his brother, you and he were attached at the hip, kept by your father’s side in king’s landing. As children, you were constantly praised and doted on by Aenys; the countless flowers he would pluck for you, the beautiful poetry he would send your way, even holding your hand beneath the table during supper.
As children, it was seen as playful and almost endearing. Still, half the court whispered that it could be something more, given your family’s queer customs. But as you both come of age, what was once innocent could no longer be defended as such. It was your father who finally put an end to shared beds. Still he’s ended with a headache upon receiving news that Aenys was still found in your bed when the sun rose. That your chambers were moved so far, making it nearly impossible for your brother to find a way to reach you.
Aenys has an unshakable urge to be loved by everyone; to please, to be adored. But most of all, he wants it to be you. He is terrified of losing your affection, terrified to see you disapprove, terrified someone will one day take his place. You have him wrapped your finger; he would move heaven and earth just to see you smile. Your laughter to him, sounds as sweet as wine. All the women in the realm could dote on him as much as they all pleased, yet his eyes are always on you, his sweet sister.
Aenys shares the same jealousy that affects all Targaryen men. He can’t stand to see you speak warmly to another. He’ll just stare at you with sad eyes and pout, even your ladies in waiting know it won’t be long before your brother calls you to his side once more. Even Maegor, the brother Aenys tries so hard to be on good terms with, isn’t allowed near you. He knows Maegor is stronger, taller, stubborn and fierce, qualities to make any maiden swoon. Aenys will hand his brother lands, titles and even his sword, but never you.
Your first kiss was with Aenys, he made it so given much he hogs your time. There was always a curiosity between you both. It started off innocently enough with Aenys pressing a soft peck to your lips or pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. But as time went by, a small kiss is followed by more, each kiss lasting more, each one more intense than the last. He can’t help himself at times, stealing kisses in the halls or in the gardens where he thinks no is looking.
At times, the kisses turn in something more. There was a line Aenys and you have long known not to cross; despite the rumors your father might finally grant your wishes and wed you two. Still, a whisper or two says he considers other houses for better alliances. Yet none of you seem to care when you’re climbing on top of him, mouth to his, sucking his tongue. Your core pressed against his thigh as you move your hips. Aeny’s hand grip your waist while you palm his cock through his pants, heavy breaths shared.
Aenys adores your body. Believes it should be a pinnacle of worship; if it were not for his duties; he’d devote hours, days, weeks giving it the revering it deserves. He cherishes your body, no matter if it’s laid with freckles, scars or stretchmarks. If you wish it, he’ll get down on his knees, kiss your inner thighs tenderly and work his tongue between your legs.
Aenys will not be able to endure a life where he’s not yours and you’re not his. He would rather not live in a world where you’re forced to marry some lord, bear his children, be taken far away where he can’t see you again. Aenys will cry, beg, fall to his knees if it meant keeping you by his side. He will promise to be better, to love you more deeply than anyone ever could. If you were to leave this world, Aenys would follow right after. He cares if it’s not what his father wishes. Nor does he care if the faith will look down upon you or if the entire realm will revolt against you. As long as he has his sister on his side, Aenys has no other care.
Jaehaerys I Targaryen
Jaehaerys to you, was the perfect man. Or at least that’s what you were raised to believe. He was brave, skilled with a sword, told to be wiser beyond his years even as a little boy. He was able to recite prayers and poems faster than you could think of them. He was fair-spoken, able to talk his way out of any trouble and make others see his reason. And there was your sister Alysann, who shared his intelligence and determination; the perfect pair.
Your life was a muddle filled with tragedy and remaining in shadows. Your brother had become king and wed your sister, a marriage that stirred uproar across the realm. You’ve lost two brothers and spent much of your life hidden away. Your only purpose is the same as any other lady; serve as a bridge of alliance through marriage, or serve the faith as a septa. Yet strangely you remained in court, remaining by your brother's side, the king’s side. You couldn’t possibly think why, but your brother cared for you more than any other man in the realm. Everything he did was for your safety and well being.
It never crossed your mind at first that it could be because your brother yearned, no desired you. He had a kingdom to rule, a realm to keep at peace and a sister wife already. What reason would he have for another? Jaehaerys was attentive in your care, he couldn’t have you sit idle and slouch off your duties. You are to memorize every house and their words, to courtesy better than any, to embody an image of royal grace.
Lords knew to ask for your hand, they must go through the king first. Jaehaerys will nod and listen, pretending to consider before giving his reasons for refusal. You want his sister up in the north where she will be so far away from her family? You with your troubling rumors, think you deserve his sweet and gentle sister? And if a man tries to woo you without his knowledge first, they’ll find any privileges they had with the king, perhaps a seat at the council or a position in the court stripped away.
Truthfully it’s because your brother cannot bear the idea of another man claiming you. Even your wishes to travel will be dismissed, doesn’t matter if it’s only dragonstone. You are needed here at court, your brother demands it and who are you to refuse your king? Gods forbid you even seem interested in that feeble lord who was pursuing you; Jaehaerys will put an end to it and ensure you never mention the name of that lord in his presence again.
Jaehaerys has your chambers not only close to his, but has yours connected to his by a private passage. It’s such a secret not even the rat catchers know it. Jaehaerys is a man of quiet hypocrisy, it’s something he shall never admit or face. It’s merely for convenience. He must know where his dear sister is at all times.
Nights when not even the servants walk by. When the knights are stationed elsewhere, their eyes hardly open and the crickets chirping. Your brother comes to visit, you can see his figure moonlight before the bed creaks beneath him as he climbs on top of you. You’ve learned to make things easier for him, wearing your night dresses short and flimsy. If one were to press an ear to your door, they would hear your soft moans muffled by his lips as his beard tickles your skin.
Jaehaerys knows the risks when he’s thrusting in and out of you. Your cunt tightening so sweetly around his cock, and yet every time he cums deep inside you. Leaving you with a mess to clean up after. Still, Jaehaerys forbids you from drinking moon tea. He made the realm accept his first union, accept the children that he brought from the same union. He’d have exiled his kids if they had ever done this, but he never claimed to be a perfect man, did he?
Brynden Rivers
No one really cared for you at court. You could roam the halls and attend ceremonies and hardly anyone would remember your face or name. But you were treated better than most, you had a roof over your head, a belly full with food, and warm baths. That was until you came across the bastard prince – your supposed brother. He was a fascination even as children. His pale skin, his red eyes, the birthmark upon his face. You would stare at him from afar, only to jump back when he tilted his head and his crimson eyes met yours.
Brynden always noticed when you stared. Whenever you pretended to be interested in something else when he caught you looking. In truth, he noticed everything. Unaware that you were a fascination to him too. That he saw you before you ever laid eyes on him, quietly watching. He knows your every secret, your thoughts and your dreams.
His spies are everywhere. And you can’t shake the uneasy feeling at the raven that stays perched at your window no matter how many times you shoo it away. Brynden knows who you spoke to that day, the books and letters you’ve read, when you weep at night assuming not a soul will hear. He appears suddenly at times, stepping out behind a column or approaching your table as you’re lost in thought. Making you jump as you greet him, almost out of breath.
Brynden's love for you is all consuming and must be sated, much like hunger. He knows it’s wrong, there is no use to justify, to excuse. He knows what it is. Brynden wants to fill that deep void inside of you, to also satisfy your craving. Aware of your lack of poise, the erotic books you read in the corner. How you try to please yourself at night, clumsily using your fingers between your legs.
Brynden makes it very evident that you only belong to him. You are his, either by fate or by choice. He has no care to hide his possessiveness. Will outright tell you no man will touch you as long as he draws breath. He will know if they try. Besides by how good he is fucking you, with your pussy squeezing him so hard. Who else will you run to but him?
Your brother is a more generous lover than you may have thought. He lives for the sounds you make. Biting your lip or burying your face in the pillows to muffle your sounds will make him stop his movements. He wants to hear you, let them know who you belong to. Feeding his fingers into your pussy while he presses kisses to your neck. He simply can’t get enough of you. Sometimes he wonders if you cast a spell on him, must be, there can be no other possible explanation.
Has asked you to marry him more than once. Be his wife. Doesn’t he already lavish you with attention and care? You are the only softness that remains within him; gentle in his touch, in how he speaks of you. Wouldn’t you make him a happy man? His red eye staring at you with such adoration as you lay on top of him, both bare. Brynden confesses he is tempted to keep you somewhere, far from here, so he can be the only man to gaze upon you, to have you like this. A bad jest, you think, but there is no smile in sight.
Maekar Targaryen
Growing up, you were the only daughter, surrounded by four brothers. Maekar was often distant, not as much as Aerys, but distant enough. For he spent most of his life in the battlefield or in training grounds, while you were taught courtesy and to smile. He was stern where your brothers Rhaegel and Baelor were more gentle. Soon, even the court began to notice how Maekar had taken the role of your protector. As a little boy, he scared off other boys who sought your attention and was quick to your side when you scraped your knee.
Surely it may just be a brother looking after his sister. Yet, he had guards follow you everywhere, even beyond the castle gates. Scold you for wandering without their watch, without his permission. He can be quite harsh, snapping at you when you ask too many questions. Times you catch him staring at you from the corner before looking away with a frown clear on his face, as if he’s angry at something he can’t name.
It was an internal battle within Maekar when the realization struck. He wanted his sister. He wanted you. To his ancestors, such love was nothing to be ashamed of. But without their dragons, it’s as if the realm expects the Targaryens to acclimate, to abandon their old ways. To love you, to desire you like this feels almost like corruption. He tries to suppress it, but the more he pushes it down, the stronger it burns.
His jealousy also burns just as fiercely. Maekar won’t forget the one time he nearly struck a man because he simply praised your beauty too boldly. Excusing himself before his temper got the better of him. Maekar even refused marriage offers that came your way, Baelor raises a brow asking his brother why he seems so interested in your affairs only for Maekar to excuse that he merely wants the best for you – not some lord with countless bastards and an unbearable ego.
At times Meakar is tempted to curse your name. You think he must enjoy this torment? He does not. He just wishes you weren’t so tempting. Why must you speak so softly, are you not aware how much he must keep the beast within him at bay. Your hand reaching for his out of concern, please don’t look with those pleading eyes of yours, don’t utter his name. You will drive him mad.
He was wounded once, a foolish mistake on the training field. It was neither deep nor fatal. He cursed his maester for offering milk of the poppy, and when you came to visit, offered to clean his wound yourself; he broke. He grabbed you suddenly, pulling you on top of him, hearing your startled gasp. You tried not to touch the side where his wound was. But you couldn’t think of anything else when his lips crashed into yours, his beard scraping against your skin. There was no taming the dragon that night.
Maekar, while known to be ill-tempered and impatient, tries to maintain an air of composure. Yet his lust is unquenchable. On some days, he still has some vivacity left, wanting to vent his frustrations. It’s both fortunate and unfortunate you end up as his remedy. Powerless to stop the moans that climb out of your throat as he plunges his cock in your cunt. Your brother is just so big, you can do nothing but take it. Take each push and pull of his hips. His every deliberate and precise thrust.
Your brother’s love could not be kept a secret. Every decision, word and glance screams it. You are his very conscience, his very weakness. Maekar rather faces a thousand swords then give you to another and it’s clear to the king and queen both; you are his, either by choice or not.
Baelor Breakspear
To the entire realm, Baelor was the perfect prince; honest, dutiful, and kind. Noble to the morrow. A man every lord, every prince, every knight would dream of being. To you, he was simply your older brother, so thoughtful and gentle. You absolutely adored him. Even as children, you were known to trail after him through the grand halls, sneak into the training yards just to watch him. You trusted him with every secret, every doubt.
Baelor understood long ago that what he felt for you was more than some brotherly love. And it distressed him deeply. It’s a betrayal to him, what kind of brother is he? He is to protect you, guide you, care for you, instead his mind is playing with him, terrible thoughts consume him.
He tells himself he can’t get jealous, he can’t be envious. Baelor can’t help but stare when he sees you enjoy the company of another, your sounds of laughter reaching him. Whoever is speaking with the prince might as well not exist as he can’t remove his gaze. And when you catch him, he forces a polite smile. When lords approach him with their talks of a proposal, Baelor has that sick twisting feeling in his stomach. He nods along, they would treat you well. They say the right things but he just can’t. He can’t bring himself to agree to it.
Baelor does whatever to drain out that voice. That whispers that you belong to him, that he should just get it done with. He rides for hours, busies himself with training, in council just to quiet it down. Sometimes your brother sends you away or avoids you completely; it can go for days. It feels so sudden, finding your feelings hurt after all, he is your dearest confidante. But he comes back eventually. For he can’t breathe when you are not near.
Oh, how he loves you — so desperately, his heart aches with it. Doesn’t know if he can bear it any longer. How his hands stay too long at your waist when he helps you unmount from your house. How he cannot deny you when you come to him in the middle of a storm, or perhaps trembling from a nightmare. He gathers you in his arms, burying his face in your hair. Or when you tend to a cut, you’re under his gaze for too long. How tender sweet sister comes from his lips. Looking up in confusion when he abruptly stands, apologizes and leaves the room without explanation.
There comes a day where he just breaks. Everything buried, finally coming out; face pale, hands trembling as he confesses it all. Begging you to forgive him, he tried, gods, he really did. But everywhere Baelor went, he saw your face, heard your sweet laughter, felt the ghost touch of your soft hands. And when you lay a touch on his cheek; he shudders. His lips are soft when they meet yours and when you both pull away, you are quick to meet again, the kiss hungrier. Baelor feels your fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt. Every rational thought in his head screamed him not to, but his hand followed yours, stripping his shirt away before finding the ties of your dress.
Baelor’s guilt dissolves when he beds you. His cock pushed into you. You are so tight, so warm. As if you were made just for him, his cock stretching you in ways you didn’t think was possible. His forehead pressed to yours as you both share sighs and moans of pleasure. He doesn’t want to pull out even as he spurts out hot ropes of cum deep inside. He wants to stay here, he will gladly die like this; buried inside you.
But when the morning comes, his guilt comes back heavier than ever. He has tainted you, ruined you. A terrible brother he must be to take your virtue. Baelor avoids you, pacing back and forth in his room. He must do what is right, he must fix it. Baelor will marry you to protect your honor. He is willing to take the brunt of it, informing his father, the king. His mind has already been decided and as he stands in front of the king, confessing his wrong. There is a flicker of hope as he imagines the future you’ll have together; to see you in such a beautiful gown, where one day you’ll be surrounded with children, one he hopes they take your eyes.
Aerion Targaryen
Even as children, you have always learned to step carefully around your brother. Out of everyone, he was drawn to you the most. Aerion demanded every bit of attention – every ounce of it. The girl you choose to play with instead of him was pushed into the mud with Aerion claiming she must have tripped. The dog you were gifted gone missing days later; you remember crying to your parents, desperate to find it only for you to never know its fate.
Aerion firmly believed your father will wed you to him when you’re both of age. He didn’t think his love for you was a sin as the stupid faith keeps preaching. These laws are made for men; we are not men, we are dragons, he says. It’s his destiny and his right to wed you. Sure you didn’t have the Valyrian features, but no worry, he’ll ensure your children would. Aerion even hovers over you more than your own septa. Don’t slouch, it's unbecoming of you. You must eat more fruit, you need to be in perfect health to bear his children one day.
Your brother grew into an arrogant, cruel, beautiful man. His fixation over you hasn’t faded over the years; unfortunately, it just consumed him more and more. He still loves seeing you tremble and his touches have started to linger a little too long. You’ve come to realize that Aerion is the reason why you never receive letters, no matter if it’s an old friend or some potential suitor. He’ll read them before tossing them into the fire. He demands you dine with him everyday and will send guards to fetch you if you don’t go.
Even your first kiss was something Aerion claimed as his right. He’s to be your husband after all; it’s inevitable. Despite years having passed and your father gave no indications he wanted to wed you both. It’s not uncommon to find yourself suddenly pushed against a wall as you go about your day, your brother’s hand gripping your side as his open mouth claims yours, kissing you hungrily.
One would assume Aerion with his vigorous desire would have taken your maidenhood from a long time ago. But oddly he has let it wait longer than you anticipated. The first time he has seen your body bare was out of mere curiosity. Interrupting you mid preparing to take a bath. Aerion pulled the straps of your loose dress, lowering it till it hit the floor. His hands trail down until they reach the side of your breast and your breath hitches when you feel his thumb close to your nipple.
When Aerion takes you for the first time; he’s not gentle. After all, there will be many times after this, you’ll grow used to it won’t you. You will even grow to beg him for it. But your sobs are getting a little too loud for him and he hates the odd feeling it leaves in his chest. Slowing down as he pulls out, coating the tip of his cock against your pussy rubbing on it back and forth before sliding his cock inside you once more.
There is no end to the carnal desire Aerion has for you. For the longest time, you dared to think his speeches and declarations of being a dragon were merely just talk, but he carries the tenacity of one. A simple supper will turn into your back laid on the table or how he’ll invite himself to your morning baths. Even horse riding ends with him groping a chest and the other hand between your legs. Informing Aerion that you are bleeding won’t deter him; if anything it arouses him to see his cock covered in your blood.
It’s a miracle your father spent so long before he found out. A servant walked in to find Aerion in your bed. While you dread what your father will think, Aerion thinks it was bound to happen. His patience was wearing thin and he despised sneaking in and out of your chambers. Maeker is furious, but he knows there is no way out of this other than to wed you to Aerion. To save your dignity, for no man will take you; not only did you lose your maidenhood, you lost it to your brother. And if he were to exile Aerion, he’d have to send you with him. Perhaps it’s for the better, it will only be just you and him.
Daeron the Drunken
The court loved making your brother the subject of talk. He was seen as a sure disappointment to the family; to your father and it wasn’t far from the truth. Your father looked down at him, even forbade you from spending time with him. Claiming he’ll do nothing but taint your reputation. Yet despite this, you and Daeron grew to be as thick as thieves.
You could never bring yourself to look at your brother with the same disappointment. You still remember him as the little boy who used to bring you flowers plucked from the gardens. Who held your hand when you were scared, promising to protect you. In return you were there for him; tending to his drunken stupors and defending him from harsh words.
Your brother has no care for appearances or what others think of him. But the second he hears you'll be at a feast or some tourney, suddenly he is tempted to attend. Daeron spends the entire evening distracting you; he’ll steal a seat beside you, ignoring his father’s glare. He has even bribed your ladies in waiting so they tell him who exactly you’ll be spending time with. Your brother will even tug at your sleeve and convince you to sneak away with him, just like you always did as children.
There was once a time where you were courted by some Tyrell lord, he was young and handsome. A match so well even you briefly considered it. Only to receive a word your brother has gone missing again. When he was finally found, he was in some tavern, his knuckles bloodied, and the whore he’d been apparently with swore she heard your name whispered from his lips over and over. That night, he came to you drunk; laying his head in your lap with his arms wrapped round your waist. As you gently run your fingers through his hair, you know what has driven him to such a mood.
Your first kiss was casually stolen by Daeron. There was no passion, no excitement, just your eyes flickering in surprise when he pulled away. He only smiled, teasing you. Why make such a fuss, it was just a kiss, you take things too seriously sweet sister. But Daeron is no fool. He knows it's wrong, what he feels for you, of all the things he thinks of doing to you. He will even admit you deserve better than all of this. You deserve better than him. But when has he ever known to be selfless?
Daeron is a pervert, even deep into his cups. Fully knowing what he is doing. His head resting on your shoulder while his fingers occasionally play with the laces in front of your dress. His hands have groped your chest accidentally more times than one can count. Why don’t you just show him; he is your brother not some stranger. Pretty please. Don’t make him beg. Your brother promises to just look so you do what he says. But his fingers still reach to touch and squeeze your breasts.
With every request, comes a false promise. Where he promised to only curiously touch. There is your brother’s tongue circling your bud as you mewl. He then takes your nipple into his mouth, a loud pop sound resounding when he lets go. He will ask for you to spread your legs. Show him what lies there. He promises to only look. Then before you know it, you are feeling his breath on your inner thigh, he nudges a leg over his shoulder, his mouth devouring your cunt.
Last but not least, your brother promises he’ll just put his dick between your thighs. Having you firmly press your legs together while he moves his hips, your thighs massaging and rubbing his dick. Daeron lets it go for a few moments before he just opens your legs and slides his dick inside you. Making you gasp and claw at his shoulder, but he just coos, saying you’ll like it soon. His mouth on yours serves as a distraction as you feel him slowly fill you up and your small sounds of whines turn into soft moans. For a brief moment, you could only think of your father's fury before you’re completely overwhelmed with pleasure.
tired!higuruma who at first, admittedly, feels bad about letting you do all the work for him.
tired!higuruma who’s (unexpectedly) incredibly turned on by body worship from you.
tired!higuruma who hesitates when you tell him to lay back and relax as you lovingly undress him like he’s to be savored.
tired!higuruma who eventually lets you take control and relishes in the tension relief that comes alongside it.
tired!higuruma who gets a little flustered, throwing an arm over his face when you point out how pent up he is.
tired!higuruma whose hips stutter up into your palm whenever you whisper sweet praise into his ear.
tired!higuruma who’s practically eating out of your hand by the time his release is just right there, whimpering, “oh, fuck, please— please, i’m so close, baby…”
tired!higuruma who shudders when he goes over the edge, staining your hand with cum and your mind with the sight of him trembling under you.
tired!higuruma who wouldn’t mind giving you power over him again.
steve harrington is a simple man who craves simple pleasures.
simple pleasures such as suggesting new positions every couple of nights, attempting to perfect each one. it started as a means to change things up and elevate your pleasure. he says it's essential research to make him a better teacher. you say that he's just horny.
but with each new position tried, comes a new fascination with a different part of your body. each time, it feels like he's found something new to worship at the altar of your bed.
at first, he was obsessed with your boobs. that's why both missionary and cowgirl were huge hits at first. he loved being able to mouth at your tits while being lost in the throes of pleasure. which escalated to the need to cradle your breasts when he'd rut into you in the early hours of the morning before you two needed to get up and dressed for the day. he'd grope them and lightly pinch your nipples until your gasping over the edge.
then his hands began to roam down to your stomach. he simply cupped the tender flesh at first, tracing over your skin. yet that quickly disappeared when he firmly pressed his palm against your low abdomen one morning, feeling the swell of himself inside of you.
recently, he'd been handsy with your ass; lightly swatting it when passing by or leaving red handprints that he'd kiss away and praise you over. he loved observing the way you'd fuck yourself back at him with your face pressed into the mattress, hands fisting at the bed sheets. that's how he currently had you, playfully spanking the skin before grabbing a handful - a reward for himself.
tet as you melted beneath him, your back arched, and exhaustion settled into your bones. you were losing the momentum to keep pace. but no worries, steve is happy to help. so he settles his large hands on your hips, ready to assist you and drill further into your needy cunt. but he feels the shift of your hips, how they spread to take him deeper, and it makes something in his go feral.
long after you're spent, he's buried himself between your thighs, peppering kisses and sucking lovebites into the flesh, occasionally nipping at you when he senses you're falling asleep.
steve loves every part of you, because every part of you is something to worship.
How would The Knocker react to sexual intimacy? ;0
How the Knocker Reacts to Sexual Intimacy
This is my first time ever writing smut… please be nice I’m hoping this is decent 💔
PAIRINGS: The Knocker x GN! Reader
CONTENTS: Headcanons
WARNINGS: Smut, the Knocker being a freak (as per usual)
🗝️ This man has had literally no experience up until he met you. The first few times, he’s going to need some guidance, a little help to understand what you like and how to make you feel good. Once he’s gotten confident and knows what he’s doing, The Knocker is absolutely FERAL.
🗝️ The Knocker fucks rough and fast. He has stamina for days, and could go for hours (but how long you two go depends on how much you can take, of course.)
🗝️ I imagine he’s surprisingly vocal for how quiet he usually is. He lets out lots of grunts and growls.
🗝️ BITER. Oh my god he’s a biter. You’re gonna end up covered in teeth marks by the next morning.
🗝️ I’m not gonna lie he usually cums pretty fast. As I said before though, he can still go for hours, but either way he’s gonna make sure you find your release too no matter what. He can’t feel satisfied if you aren’t too.
🗝️ It’s obvious that he’s very observant, and that definitely stays the same in the bedroom. He figures out what you’re into pretty quickly even if you don’t tell him. Hell he might even find out what you like before you do yourself 😭
A/N posted something simular before on my other blog before the theme change
I feel like more could be added to each list lol but I worked on this longer than i'd like to admit
Tags: lads men individually x mcreader/you, paraphilia
Tw: dark/taboo kinks and themes ahead you have been warned
Xavier
Somnophilia 97%
Cockwarming 95%
Dominate 92%
Soft dom 88%
Pleasure dom 88%
Freeuse 87%
Brat tamer 85%
Voyeurism 84%
Rope Bunny 79%
Rigger 74%
Submissive 74%
Switch 68%
Masochist 68%
Sadist 55%
Xavier let's you get away with alot of small things and many warnings. If you push him though he's sure to punish you. Punishment includes being tied up, teased and brought to orgasm again and again until your painfully overstimulated or one with teeth and spanking.
Xavier leans toward dom, but he loves being a sub. He's made it clear that he is freeuse. Anytime you want him he is down. His favorite thing is to wake up inside you or fucking half asleep.
Zayne
Brat tamer 100%
Dominate 96%
Improper exam/pussy inspection 95%
Pleasure dom 93%
Tease/edgeing 93%
Voyeurism 80%
Degrader 75%
Sadist 75%
Exhibitionist 68%
Rigger 65%
Submissive 65%
Switch 49%
Zayne is a strict dom. He doesn't allow disobedience to go unpunished. He takes his time with his punishments. Teasing, edgeing, degrading before he enjoys making you fall over the edge begging.
He doesn't like to outright admit it, but he loves the thrill of having sex in his office. He teases you when you come for a routine exam. His hands wandering while saying how it's not good for you to be patient and girlfreind. But he wouldn't allow anyone else to be your doctor either.
Zayne is almost always a dom. He rarely switches, but he is a very obdient sub as long as you don't tease him to much.
Rafayel
Brat 100%
Breeding 98%
Primal (Hunter) 89%
Dominate 87%
Licking 85%
Dacryphilia 81%
Degrader 79%
Rigger 75%
Degradee 70%
Submissive 69%
Rope bunny 69%
Switch 63%
Rafayel is a brat through and through dom or sub. He teases, degrades, pushes your buttons and enjoys every minute of you doing it back. He loves the control over you. He can also have his strict moments to make you listen and obey. He also can be made to listen with the right tools.
Sylus
Dominate 99%
Masochist 99%
Tease/Edgeing 97%
Brat enabler 97%
Rigger 91%
Voyeurism 91%
Degrader 88%
Pleasure dom 85%
Degradee 78%
Primal (Hunter) 77%
Knife/Gun play 69%
Sadist 68%
Sylus is somehow always in control. He's defenitely a dom who allows for alot of bad behavior imcluding trying to take control. He enjoys you being a brat and encorages it. He loves it when you give him some pain and he will give it right back.
Sylus also enjoys watching you, but especially taking the handle of a knife and a barrel of gun.
Caleb
Brat creator/enabler/tamer 100%
Masochist 100%
Collar 100%
Switch 100%
Siscon/pseudo-incest 95%
Rope bunny 93%
Pet play 91%
Rigger 88%
Dominate 87%
Spit/Salivia play 85%
Submissive 85%
Sadist 81%
Dacryphilia 81%
Degradee 78%
Degrader 75%
Caleb is just- down for anything.
He truly is the brat creator/enabler/tamer. He spoils, he allows and encorages the brattiness and when he wants/needs to he puts you in your place. A man who does it all.
He defenitly has this internal battle about being your brother or being your boyfreind and owning both is what gives him peace... and a raging hard on.
Valko
Brat creator/tamer 100%
Scent 100%
Masochist 100%
Marking 100%
Breeding 100%
Primal (Hunter) 98%
Cock warming 95%
Blood 87%
Switch 85%
Dominate 80%
Submissive 78%
Sadist 71%
Valko has wolf instintics so it's only natrual he is addicted to your scent and breeding you. He also loves a good chase to catch you.
Valko is a switch who prefers being a dom, but also loves being dominated. Your his mate. His equal. He is addicted to you.
The man also totally spoils you and creates a brat, don't worry he will also put you in your proper place.
