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the sounds of soft moans and wet squelching reverberate throughout your quarters deep within the jedi temple. your nails dug into anakin’s shoulders, breaking skin. he hissed softly at the pain, but it only fueled him, made his cock impossibly harder. the thick outline of his erection pressed against the strained fabric of his black trousers. his lustful gaze trailed down the expanse of your sweat-dampened body, landing on your breasts. your nipples poked through the sheer white material of your short sleeping tunic, calling to him to take them into his mouth.
he couldn’t withstand the temptation. with a low growl he ripped the delicate fabric with ease, baring you to the warm air and his hungry eyes before taking one of the stiff peaks into his eager mouth. you moaned, the added stimulation shooting straight to your core. fresh arousal seeped from your already soaked cunt and onto the front of anakin’s pants.
“anakin,” you whispered, fingers twisting into his tousled brown hair with desperate need. “please…”
“please, what?” he rasped. his voice was rough, frayed at the edges, even though his face remained frustratingly composed.
he knew exactly what you wanted. to cum. to have him bury his cock inside your needy little cunt and claim you completely.
the sight of you on top of him—desperately grinding against his thigh, beads of sweat glistening on your chest, lips parted—stirred a fire inside him. it took everything in him not to flip you onto the low table and fuck you senseless. he wanted to draw this out. for you. for him. for the delicious, dangerous thrill of two jedi breaking every rule they had ever sworn to uphold, right here in the heart of the temple.
“i—,” you gasped. your clit dragged over the rough fabric of his trousers, sending sparks racing up your spine. “i want to touch you.”
he raised a brow, considering it for half a second before shaking his head. “no.”
you whined, biting your lower lip.
anakin’s smirk was dark and satisfied. his attention dropped to your cunt gliding along his thigh. he growled—deep, primal, vibrating through his chest. your folds were puffy and glistening, slick coating your outer and inner labia. he brought two fingers down to your clit, rubbing soft, light circles.
“so gorgeous,” he murmured, voice thick as a string of your arousal connected your clit to his fingers. “you’re soaked for me and i’ve barely touched you.”
“fuck…” you breathed. your cunt clenched around nothing, fluttering helplessly.
“move faster,” he ordered, the words low and commanding. “show me how desperate you are.”
your lashes fluttered. you obeyed instantly, rolling your hips harder, grinding your clit against the semi-rough material with single-minded focus. the wet sounds grew louder, filthier.
your orgasm built fast—too fast. your movements turned erratic, broken pleas and curses spilling from your lips. anakin’s large hands gripped your hips, one warm and calloused, the other cool…metallic, guiding you, controlling the rhythm even as you started to shake.
“that’s it, baby,” he groaned. “you’re such a good fucking girl. go on—cum for me.”
you nodded frantically, hips stuttering, then broke with a choked cry. pleasure crashed through you so hard your vision whited out and your ears rang. you tried to still, but anakin didn’t let you. he kept you moving through it, dragging your oversensitive clit along his thigh until your whole body was trembling and you collapsed against his shoulder, boneless and gasping.
he held you close, one hand stroking up and down your back while the other stayed firm on your hip. his lips brushed your ear, voice soft and rough at the same time.
“my sweet girl,” he whispered. “you're so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”
you were still catching your breath when you felt him shift beneath you. with one hand he freed his cock from his trousers, the thick length springing free, flushed and leaking at the tip. he hissed at the contact with cooler air, head tipping back against the chair as he gave himself one slow, deliberate stroke.
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there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin | daeron targaryen x dornish!reader | 1.7k | mdni
cw ✧ unprotected piv ✧ creampie ✧ stranger sex ✧ fingering ✧ reference to alcohol use ✧ naked f/clothed m ✧ f!reader ✧ no physical descriptors for r, but it's implied she's thicc ✧ no use of y/n ✧ not edited, don't judge me
note: ty for the request, @realmofsolitaire! i'm sorry this took ten lightyears to get out! i hope you enjoy it ♡
the heavy door clicked shut behind you, muffling the distant music and laughter of daeron's nameday feast. candlelight painted the chamber in warm gold, catching on the rich fabrics and the grand bed. daeron’s mouth found yours at once, slow yet needy, the taste of arbor gold lingering on his tongue. his hands moved slowly over the curves of your body, palms gliding along the flare of your hips and the soft weight of your breasts through the silk of your gown. he walked you backward until the edge of the bed brushed your thighs, yet he didn’t push you down. instead he broke the kiss just enough to look at you, sandy hair falling into his eyes, the usual quiet melancholy in them replaced by lust.
“let me see all of you,” he said, voice low and rough with wine. "please.."
you nodded, a small, eager movement, and whispered, “yes, my prince.”
he paused for a moment, fingers stilling on the laces. then he leaned in and brushed his lips against your ear. “daeron,” he corrected gently, voice warm and low. “just daeron, sweet girl."
you swallowed, the shift in his tone making heat pool low in your stomach. “daeron,” you echoed softly.
he hummed in approval and went back to the laces, one by one the cords gave way. he slipped the fabric from your shoulders, letting it fall, then drew the shift beneath down your body inch by inch. each new expanse of skin earned a kiss—the slope of your collarbone, the upper swell of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the flare of your hips. his blond stubble scraped softly against you with every press of his mouth, making you shiver and whimper. you stood completely bare before him long before he stepped back to admire what he had uncovered.
cool air kissed your naked skin, tightening your nipples and raising goosebumps along your arms and the undersides of your thighs. daeron remained fully clothed—doublet still buttoned to the throat, damask mantle draped across his shoulders, breeches laced, the faint scent of wine clinging to the fine fabric. the contrast sent a fresh wave of heat through you. you, utterly exposed, every curve and intimate place on display, while he stood before you looking every bit the targaryen prince.
he turned you slowly until your back met his chest. the textured weave of his doublet pressed against your bare skin, rough in places where embroidery caught. you felt the cool metal of a clasp at your spine and the solid weight of his belt buckle against the upper curve of your ass. one of his arms banded around your waist, hand spreading wide over the soft fullness of your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked harder beneath his touch. his other hand slid downward, over the swell of your stomach.
“spread for me,” he murmured against your ear, the words warm and commanding.
you parted your thighs willingly, and he made a low sound of approval. “good girl. just like that.”
his fingers traced the inside of one thigh first, savoring the softness, before gliding through the slick heat between your legs. he didn’t rush - wanting to take his time with you. two fingers stroked along your folds, gathering the wetness that had been building all evening, circling your clit slowly.
“already so wet for me,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “been thinking about this all night, haven’t you, love?”
you rocked back into him instinctively, a soft sound escaping you. “yes… since you first looked at me.”
daeron had been instantly enthralled the moment his eyes found you across the crowded hall. your dornish warmth had stood out. the glow of your skin in the torchlight, the way your gown had clung to every curve of your figure. he had crossed the room with that half-smile, offering a goblet of wine from his own table. conversation had followed easily, his dry wit meeting your own, the space between you shrinking with every shared cup until laughter turned into heated tension and the pull between you had become impossible to ignore. one moment you were still among the guests; the next, his hand had brushed yours and the two of you had slipped away to the privacy of his chambers.
his fingers stroked your clit in slow, tight circles before one sank inside you, then two. he pumped them slowly, curling on each upstroke to drag against that perfect spot, while his thumb never left your clit. his clothed body stayed pressed tight to your back—the doublet shifting against your bare skin with every small movement, the hard line of his cock trapped in his breeches and grinding lightly against your ass. you rocked back into him instinctively, a soft sound escaping you.
he took the opportunity to mouth at your neck—open, wet kisses first, then the careful press of teeth. he bit down just enough to make you jolt, then soothed the spot with his tongue, the scrape of his beard dragging over sensitive skin. another bite followed lower, near the junction of your neck and shoulder, then another, each one sending waves of hear to your belly. his free hand roamed upward again, cupping and squeezing your breast, rolling the nipple while his fingers continued their slow rhythm inside you.
"does this feel good, sweet girl?"
you rocked back into his hand instinctively, a soft moan escaping you. “yes..so good..mmm.."
you were dripping for him, the wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out filling the quiet chamber alongside your shared breathing. he added the slightest twist to his wrist, scissoring gently to stretch you further, and your knees gave out. he caught you easily, arm tightening around your waist, holding your body steady against him while he worked you slowly.
“that’s it,” he praised against another bite mark, voice thick with lust. his fingers never sped up; they stayed deep, thumb circling tighter on your clit until pleasure built in steady waves.
you trembled in his arms, thighs shaking. “daeron… i’m close—”
“i know,” he soothed, thumb circling your clit with more pressure. “i know you are. cum for me.”
your orgasm finally crested, rolling through you in waves. your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers, wetness coating them as you gasped his name. he worked you through every pulse, fingers gentle but never stopping until you were shaking and oversensitive in his arms.
his lilac eyes never left yours, even as stepped back and began to undress. the doublet came off first, then the mantle, followed by his shirt. he pushed his breeches down his legs until he stood fully bare before you, his cock hard and already leaking at the tip.
he eased his hand free, bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth to taste you while you watched over your shoulder.
you couldn't help the whine that left you. the sight of him tasting your release, the way he moaned around his fingers, made you clench around nothing.
he climbed over you, one knee nudging your thighs wider as he settled between them. the heat of his bare skin against yours made your breath catch. he notched the head of his cock against your entrance and pushed in slowly, watching your face the entire time. inch by inch he filled you, the stretch perfect after his fingers, your body yielding to him with a wet sound. when he bottomed out, hips flush to yours, he stayed there for a long moment, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard.
“seven hells… you feel perfect,” he whispered. “so warm. so tight around me. like you were made for this.”
he began to move with the same unhurried control—deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your sensitive walls. one hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh, holding you open; the other braced beside your head. he kept the pace measured, deliberate, even as sweat beaded at his temples and his sandy hair fell into his eyes. each thrust was designed to make you feel every bit of him.
your hands found his shoulders, fingers curling into his skin as you arched beneath him. he leaned down to mouth at your neck once more—kisses and bites interspersed with the deep, slow drag of his cock. the combination was overwhelming—the scrape of his beard, the sting of his teeth, the steady fullness stretching you open. you wrapped your thighs around his waist, heels pressing into the backs of his thighs, pulling him deeper.
his hips rolled into you in that perfect way that ground against your clit with every stroke. your second release built more gradually, a warm, inevitable wave that finally broke with a soft moan. your walls tightened around him in rhythmic pulses. daeron groaned low against your marked neck but didn’t speed up—he fucked you through it with the same slow, deep strokes, letting you ride out every aftershock.
when your body began to soften beneath him did his own control finally fray at the edges. his thrusts grew harder, with more weight behind them as he chased his end. you felt the tension coiling in him—the tremor in the arm braced beside you, the way his fingers tightened on your thigh. he buried himself deep on the final thrust and stayed there, hips pressed tight as he came. you felt the hot, thick pulse of him inside you—wave after wave filling you until it leaked around where you were joined. his mouth latched onto the side of your neck one last time, biting down through the height of it.
a shudder ran through him as he released. then he collapsed half on top of you, still buried deep, still mostly clothed, his doublet soft against your bare skin where it wasn’t rumpled from your hands. for a long while the only sounds were your shared breathing and the faint, distant music from the feast still drifting through the stone. daeron’s weight was comforting, grounding. eventually he lifted his head, pressing a gentler kiss to one of the bite marks he’d left, then another to your lips...slower, sweeter.
he didn’t pull out right away. he stayed inside you, hips making small, lazy rolls as the last tremors faded, his hand stroking soothingly over the soft curve of your hip. when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse but fond.
“stay,” he said quietly, the word half request, half command. his eyes searched yours, that familiar hint of melancholy flickering beneath the satisfaction. “the feast can go on without us.”
you smiled, soft and content, and pulled him down for another kiss.
Bonkers that this whole fandom looked at the hanky in Eddie's pocket and went "oh that must mean the costume department wants us to know he's gay!! He's flagging!!" Ignoring that metalheads were also known for having hankies in their back pockets and it's also implied in canon he's a mechanic or at least works on cars which is yet another demographic that often has a hanky in their back pocket. But no. Clearly they want us to know he's a sado top 🤨
i saw your requests were open and squealed! i love your work so much.
could i please request a daeron fic with a reader who is a thicker lady of dornish lineage. he sees her at his name day feast and is instantly beguiled. one thing leads to another and they end up both drunk in his chambers. lots of heavy making out and more dominant daeron (perhaps some name day arrogance?) i imagine him to be particularly enraptured by her smell— all those dornish oils and perfumes. lots of neck kisses and bites as he fingers her from behind, slow sex and he finishes inside?
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I'm currently watching Stranger things. Just watched the second episode of the fourth season, really hope nothing bad happens to Eddie, he's my new favourite character 😁☺️
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⋆✴︎˚。⋆ secret bf!eddie not being able to control himself around you
you haven’t told anyone about your relationship yet — wanting to keep the intimacy of your brand new fling to yourselves for the time being.
as the days and weeks go by, you and eddie are finding it increasingly harder to do so.
especially today, when you’re all at steve’s house cooling off from the harsh indiana summer heat.
your swimsuit has eddie’s mouth watering. you look so fucking hot, with your nipples poking through the fabric and your ass barely peeking out from underneath.
it takes him a minute to register that steve is calling out to him, and it takes him even longer to realize he’d completely zoned out staring at you.
but he doesn’t give a shit. not anymore. not when you look this damn good.
before you can even process what’s going on, eddie’s hands are on your hips, turning you away from robin to plant his lips firmly against yours.
you melt into him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. you can feel him smile against your lips as he kisses you one more time before nuzzling his nose with yours.
“sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, “couldn’t help myself.”
you’re about to respond when you’re cut off by steve yelling, “ha!! i knew it!!!! robin, you owe me twenty bucks!!”
note: this is another repost from my old blog @/littledemondani!