#Two Pound Planet

[semercury]

More than anything I want to go back in time and change how certain things went.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Big Fish in Gotham Pond

Based off of @saphushia art found here. . I just loved the idea of Tucker not knowing his skill level because he grew up in the boonies

Tucker gets scouted by Wayne Enterprises after he fixes a kid's computer game while in Gotham visiting Danny.

See, Tucker always known he is passable at tech- one has to be when a technology theme ghost is consistently harassing one's best friend- but to be good at something in a small town like Amity Park didn't mean much .

It's a big fish in a small pound sort of deal. That's why he's never put much thought into it. If Tucker were ever to rank himself in terms of school grades, he would say his computer skills were about a C-.

B+ if it was just coding.

His parents also don't think much of his obsession with his PDA or phones. They thought he waste too many hours on them like the rest of his generation.

It didn't matter that Tucker's technology was about five or more years behind his classmates.

The Foley were hard-working people who barely scraped enough for bills. They were never below the property line, but they danced on it often enough that Tucker knew never to ask for unnecessary purchases.

For as long as he could remember, his parents have always worked long and hard hours. He never blamed them for missing so much of his childhood, in fact he was grateful that they worked so hard to keep the roof over his head, but he did miss them.

That's why Danny's house became a haven for him. He was always at the Fenton's place because the loud, wacky family was much better company than the home silence.

Tucker knew that his family's financial situation didn't change how Danny or Sam viewed him. They had his back through tick and thin just as he did for them, but as they got closer to graduation the difference between them became jarring.

Sam had easy picking of what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go. Her parents were so overjoyed that she wanted to go to a university that they didn't even argue about her wishing to major in botanical biochemistry.

She had started house hunting in Star City midway through senior year. Her parents would gift it to her as a graduation present. Sam would live there for the next eight years to finish her degree.

Danny's parents, while somewhat eccentric, were also certified geniuses. Between the two of them, they had five PHDs and were often freelancing for companies when not doing ghost research. They too could send their two kids to college States away with housing not being a issue.

Jazz went to Metropolis to study Physiology. She lived in a small apartment but was doing well off her scholarships and parent's funding. Last he heard, she had a part-time job at the Daily Planet as a research assistant to gain some independence.

Danny wanted to go to Gotham for their engineering program. He, too, had an apartment of his own, with scholarships and equal funding from his parents. He also worked at Wayne Enterprises, but he was a receptionist. He hoped that once he graduated, he could apply for their engineering program

Not Tucker. His family could only help him get into Community College near Amity. He also couldn't afford to move out so he stayed with them, picking up a part time job to help out when he could.

Tucker is a first-generation college student so even though it wasn't much, he loved to see how his parents glowed when telling others their boy was futhering his education. He wanted to do something that paid well- and after years of patching up Danny- he figured nursing would do the trick.

Tucker would do all his basics in the community College, take a break to save up some money and then move on to the bigger schools.

The day of the graduation felt bittersweet. Team Phantom was finally adults, finally starting out in the real world, but while Danny and Sam moved on to bigger and better things, Tucker knew he would be left behind in little no-where Amity Park.

He never brought it up, but he felt a small dosage of envy the last day of summer before his friends finished packing and left.

Despite both being gone, Tucker had little to no social life even though they called, texted, and emailed often. His days blurred between class, work, and home. Even then, classes were long and tedious, work often ending with one or more customers screaming in his face to try and get free food.

His parents quickly started to nag that he should find a wife as they had married young. They couldn't figure out why he didn't want the same, even though he had no social life again.

Life became dull.

Tucker's only sparks of joy were playing online with Danny and Sam - when they found the time to log in or re-coding his old tech to try and salvage it whenever it broke down.

Soon, it became apparent that Tucker was slowly lacking motivation when he started skipping classes to sleep in and started feeling anxious when he needed to clock in for shifts.

It leads to him barely getting out of bed.

He felt horrible about it, thinking his parents sacrificed so much for him only to have him throw away the opportunities they gave him, and the cycle of not being able to get out of bed would start all over again.

It was Danny who caught on, and all but begged Tucker to come to Gotham for a weekend. He even sent money over for the plane ticket.

Tucker couldn't have gotten on that plane fast enough. He arrived early on Friday since the tickets were cheaper- and Uber over to WE headquarters to pick up Danny's keys as they agreed.

That way, Tucker could sleep and rest in the apartment while Danny worked.

Danny would finish his shift and have the weekend plus Monday and Tuesday off to spend with Tucker. When he arrived, Danny was helping a school check in for a field trip, so Tucker sat down to wait.

Next to him, a kid was growling at his laptop, frankly typing and moving his fingers over the computer's touch mouse. Tucker accidentally glimpsed his screen when the kid started swearing in a different language.

It looked like a shooting game but his lag was bad. By the time the boy pressed the buttons to have his little drone move the other flying things he was chasing were flipping though the air and out of his shooting rage.

It sucked when that happened, and since he was using WE free wifi for guests, it was probably the game. The graphics were badass, though. Seemed almost real.

"Hey try updating the system" He tells the kid after seeing the boy once again lag so bad he missed his shot.

Green eyes swing to him drenched in rage. Which yeah, Tucker knows how frustrating that could be.

"Did I ask for your help!?" The boy snaps, his words lined with an upper-class accent. Made sense since he was wearing a Gotham Academy uniform like the rest of the large school group. "Why are you even looking this way, peasant?"

"No, sorry. I just noticed the lag." Tucker raised his hand, slightly amused at the peasant insult. "I thought I could fix it for you."

The boy's face spams, "You believe you have the ability?"

"Ugh sure? I can try?"

"Here. Be quick. The fate of this city's air defenses depend on it" the boy turns his lap top to him and Tucker blinks.

Okay. So fix the game. He can do that.

And he does, quickly opening the code, analyzing the control and commands , he gets it running properly in less then twenty minutes. The boy seems utterly shock but he quickly takes control of the game and shoots down all the escaping ninjas from the sky.

"Thank you." The boy says with no more tense in his shoulders. Then he closes his laptop and dissappears with the crowd of students.

Tucker thought the kid was a cute.

Danny hands him the keys not long after and he leaves.

Never was he aware of the Boy being Damian Wayne and that the game was not a game but a actual defensive drone system that was fighting off the League of Assassins.

He only finds out how important those two facts are when Danny gets a call from Tim Drake asking if he could pass along Tucker's information because the CEO wanted him on staff as soon as possible..

Both nineteen-year-olds lost their minds after getting the call, screaming at each other in ghost shrieks of glee. They called Sam to let her know- and have her lawyers look over the contact Tim Drake sent just to make sure it wasn't a big-time company trying to screw him over.

He went to an interview three days later. He faced Tim Drake, the current seventeen-year-old CEO, Leo Noir, the current head of HR, and Jessica War, the current head of computer services. They asked him many questions about himself- some of which he felt he had answered terribly- then had him take a computer test.

Tucker thought it was busy work, so he quickly breezed through it. He fixed the problem in many of the coding for various programs, adding his flare to the final product, and after thanking them for their time, went out into the lobby.

He hadn't even reached the door before Jesssica ran after him, offering him the job. Apparently, the first two problems they had him do was the busy work. Tucker had thought they were the ones to let him get comfortable with the coding program.

Like a tutorial in video games.

The other seven were actual issues; many of their latest cellphone products failed. Tucker had solved them in an hour, which had taken the actual team of coders about a month.

"Nitey one dollar and thirty-five cents an hour," Tim tells him tapping the hiring contact. "It would be eighty hours every paycheck. You can work here or at home. Full Benefits. What do you say?"

Tucker's jaw drops. "When do I start!?"

He calls his parents to tell them he will be staying in Gotham with Danny. He tries to explain what had happened but it was all so fast that he can only babble about certain parts.

They tell him not to worry about explaining because they understand how much this means to him.

His parents help pack everything for him and when he flies back for it they, offer him hugs and support. Tucker is so glad they aren't mad.

"I sort of knew it was coming," His dad laughs. "You and that Fenton boy have always been inseparable."

"I did the same thing, you know," His mom says, wiping tears from her eyes but smiling all the same. "I moved with your father states away with little to no plan when I turned twenty too. Drove your grandfather mad."

He loves them both so much. He promises to send money- disregarding their denials- and flies back to Gotham, where Danny has opened his apartment until he gets enough for his own place.

He plans on renting a house with three bedrooms, one for him, one for his office, and another for Danny, as soon as he can. He wants to pay his friend back for everything he did and Danny deserves a bigger living space.

And for once, he'll not have to worry about money!

For once, life is looking up!

(What Tucker is unaware of, is that his parents think he moved to the big city to be with his childhood best friend turned recent lover. They don't know that the money he is sending home is from his own payroll and not Danny's. They think he's a stay-at-home husband.

Tucker is also unaware that the Bats are closely watching him in case he goes rogue. They have been slowly "causally" running into him in the city and breaking into his place to check for supervillain activity.)

[lovebugism]

Imagine rough sex with eds and you guys just break the bed and you have to tell wayne

✶ ┄ BROKEN BEDS !

summary: you and eddie break his bed. the worst part is having to tell wayne. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader warning: smut! eddie being the cutest human alive! a wild appearance from uncle wayne! 18+ mdni! a/n: i need everyone to know that when i wrote this draft, i titled it "breaking bed" and it made me chuckle a lil. anyway, thanks for your request anon! enjoy xoxo

( MASTERLIST )

when eddie muson fucks, he fucks like a wild animal

he grunts with each of his rough thrusts, brown eyes somehow darker with lust while his untamed curls cling to his sweaty forehead

and you just let him drill into you because, truth be told, you love him this way

you hold the backs of your thighs and keep yourself wide open for him while he fucks so deeply into you

he leans over you, one hand white-knuckled where it grips his headboard, and the other wrapped around your throat

not tight enough to choke you exactly, but to make sure your eyes stay locked on his as he fucks you for all your worth

the headboard slams into the wall in time with each of his thrusts, rhythmic bang bang bangs that you’d be scared are leaving a dent in the wall if eddie wasn’t making you feel so good

he tilts your jaw to the side to expose your neck to him

and he hides his face in the sweaty crook of it, seeking refuge there while he nips and suckles at the warmed skin

you just keep begging for him to go harder and deeper and faster as he fucks you more and more stupid

and eddie complies without question

he revels in the way you keen each time he pounds into you and how your face scrunches up and your back arches for him

your toes curl and your legs tense up so hard they start to quiver

and right when you’re about to come, the bed suddenly jolts and dips beneath you, accompanied by loud crashing sound

it scares the shit out of you and you squeal while eddie lets out a grunt of surprise

because his bed just fucking broke

and it isn’t the most surprising thing in the world, the thing is about as old as he is

but it does take the two of you off guard 

all you can do in the moment is laugh about it

and eddie barely wastes another second before he starts fucking you again

because his bed is already broken, who cares if it gets more fucked up?

plus he knew how close you were to your orgasm and you just look so pretty when you come <3

the worst part about it though is telling wayne

because there’s no way he’s not going to notice

and eddie can’t exactly sleep on a crooked bed

so he just comes up with the shittiest excuse known to man “so the thing is... i was… jumping on the bed…”

wayne furrows his brows “the hell were you doing jumping on your bed?”

“well, you see, i was just, you know… trying to… heal my inner child…”

“…what the fuck does that mean?”

but, like, obviously wayne knows

typically you’re good at keeping eddie in check and sometimes he can hear you saying you don’t want to fuck while wayne’s in the house

and that’s a part of the reason he likes you so much bc you don’t want to put him through that trauma

but you guys are young and in love and sometimes keeping your hands off of each other feels like the hardest thing in the world

so he knows exactly how the bed broke

but hearing eddie trying to lie about it is the funniest thing on the planet

shopping for a new bed frame is easily the most adult thing you and eddie have ever done

and the only one he can afford is a star wars themed one in the children’s section

eddie groans and acts annoyed about having to get one that’s so childish but you know he secretly loves it

because the headboard is shaped like the cock pit of the millennium falcon with lightsabers painted on the foot of the bed

you try to put it together without wayne’s help while he’s at work

and you’re like “how long do you give it before we break this one?”

“an hour if you wine and dine me first <3”

have any blurb requests? send em here if you want!

[nasa]

Moonbound: One Year Since Artemis I

On this day last year, the Artemis I rocket and spacecraft lit up the sky and embarked on the revolutionary mission to the Moon and back. The first integrated flight test of the rocket and spacecraft continued for 25.5 days, validating NASA’s deep exploration systems and setting the stage for humanity’s return to the lunar surface.

On Nov. 16, 2022, the Space Launch System (SLS) rocket met or exceeded all expectations during its debut launch on Artemis I. The twin solid rocket booster motors responsible for producing more than 7 million pounds of thrust at liftoff reached their performance target, helping SLS and the Orion spacecraft reach a speed of about 4,000 mph in just over two minutes before the boosters separated.

Quite a few payloads caught a ride aboard the Orion spacecraft on the Artemis I mission: In addition to a number of small scientific satellites called CubeSats, a manikin named Commander Moonikin Campos sat in the commander’s seat. A Snoopy doll served as a zero-gravity indicator — something that floats inside the spacecraft to demonstrate microgravity. 

During the mission, Orion performed two lunar flybys, coming within 80 miles of the lunar surface. At its farthest distance during the mission, Orion traveled nearly 270,000 miles from our home planet, more than 1,000 times farther than where the International Space Station orbits Earth. This surpassed the record for distance traveled by a spacecraft designed to carry humans, previously set during Apollo 13.

The Orion spacecraft arrived back home to planet Earth on Dec. 11, 2022. During re-entry, Orion endured temperatures about half as hot as the surface of the Sun at about 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Within about 20 minutes, Orion slowed from nearly 25,000 mph to about 20 mph for its parachute-assisted splashdown. 

Recovery teams successfully retrieved the spacecraft and delivered it back to NASA’s Kennedy Space Center for de-servicing operations, which included removing the payloads (like Snoopy and Commander Moonikin Campos) and analyzing the heat shield.  

With the Artemis I mission under our belt, we look ahead to Artemis II — our first crewed mission to the Moon in over 50 years. Four astronauts will fly around the Moon inside Orion, practicing piloting the spacecraft and validating the spacecraft’s life support systems. The Artemis II crew includes: NASA astronauts Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, and Christina Koch, and CSA astronaut Jeremy Hansen. 

As we look ahead to Artemis II, we build upon the incredible success of the Artemis I mission and recognize the hard work and achievements of the entire Artemis team. Go Artemis!

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[chrollohearttags]

ENVY | EREN JAEGER • the seven slutty sins series: part two

he’s not selfish, he just wants you all to himself..

musician/influencer au, possessive (yandere if you squint) eren, black fem reader, rough sex, spit play, hair pulling, overstim, exhibitionism, etc.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

eren never got jealous!

at least that’s what he told himself..nothing ever really garnered that much of a rise out of the rapper. Sure, he’d have fleeting moments of self doubt and insecurity like any other warm blooded human on this planet but one thing that could be said of EJ The Don, was that he was no hater. Others’ problems or accomplishments were of no consequence to him…someone trending higher on the charts for a number one spot? Cool. Just meant that it was their time instead of his. Awards shows? He wasn’t bothered. One man’s win didn’t spell failure for him. And when it came to women? EJ was the textbook definition of unbothered. He was cool on every single one that had ever crossed his path. Nonchalant and never worried with the possibility that he could lose her. Simply put, it wasn’t a problem for him. He was also never worried about his proverbial competition..because on the off chance that another guy was in the picture, there was no question of who she was going home with! He never had a reason to resent anyone..

…that was until he saw you with him!

“Oh my—‘rennn, fuuuck, I can’t..”

“Can’t what, hmm? Go ‘head, speak up, baby. I’m listening..”

he was calm and collected until he spotted you on Twitter..one of the rare instances he decided to actually engage with the app and he happens to see his beloved (y/n) dancing to his best friend’s song. Subtly shaking your ass to the upbeat instrumental in that skin tight dress. A sheer thong peeking out underneath and giving the world a small glimpse of what belonged to him…that tiny string swallowed up by the thick of that ass and plump pussy lips. The same ones that were all but drooling for him at the moment as he thrashed around your insides with a thumb gently placed into that puckering asshole to aid in your pleasure.

“N-no more..you win…I can’t take it..”

you’d declare in haste, but he wasn’t buying it. Or rather, he didn’t give a fuck! Why would he when you couldn’t be vexed to consider how he’d feel? Seeing you twerk to the sound of his homeboy’s lyrics when he was all that you needed? He was the only one that could turn you so salacious..ripping your clothes off as if they were paper thin..that much proven by the fact that right now, you were bent over the counter space where his friend had just sat prior to going on stage. Buried to the hilt on his stiff, aching cock as he hooked two fingers into your mouth whilst they swabbed your tongue. The same one that throbbed and pulsed at the very sight of you..the one that swelled so large, it made it damn near uncomfortable to sit down when you showed off that pretty little body and once you spread those legs to show him what was in between, his tip seeped with precum and embarrassingly, sometimes, he’d come all on his lonesome. Hence why he was pounding your cunt into full blown submission and sincerely hoped that someone would catch you two in the act right now.

“You say that but you keep throwing that shit back on me..take that dick and shut the fuck up..”

those same slender, tattooed fingers that were once hooked in the side of your jaw and underneath you to massage that very sensitive clit, were now cupped around your throat so that you could get a generous glimpse at your face right now. That beautiful face desecrated with fallen tears and ruined makeup. Your melted lace lifted clean from the perimeter of your head as he tugged it to keep you in place with those deep strokes. “Look in that fucking mirror. Look how pretty you are taking that dick..” Alternating his pacing between rough and gentle, fast and slow..all in an attempt to bring you closer to your inevitable peak..one that would undoubtedly leave you in a dripping wet mess. He’d watch you tap at that countertop to concede defeat or even reach back to paw at his abs but was only met with sharp hisses and a demented laugh, letting you know that he didn’t care about your pathetic pleas. Honestly, they were nothing more than fuel for his desires. Tugging your head back to occasionally fill those jaws with generous strings of saliva; slapping you to promptly receive your gratitude.

“Did you think I was gon’ let you get away with that shit, baby? This is mine..this my pussy..”

something he’d instill that empty little brain of yours, even if it took all night. If it took another artist and all of the staff backstage walking in, witnessing you in this vulnerable state. “Now open up. Spread that ass open..I want you to take all my nut…get you so full you can’t go nowhere..”

make no mistake, he wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t even jealous…he just wanted you all to himself.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@jadeisthirsting @spaceforher @honeybleed @shamelesshoefairy @calibabii21 @kaennih-skittles @astrokatsuki @bey0nseh @anubisisthebomb

[drdemonprince]

I don't think I have it in me to be an abolitionist because I read that horrible story about the trans teen murdered in South Carolina and my knee jerk reaction is, those people should rot in jail, ideally forever, or worse. No matter how I look at it I can't make myself okay with the idea that you should be allowed to steal someone's life in such a horrible way and then just go back to enjoying your life. Some stuff is just too over the top evil.

You can have whatever emotions you want about that person's murderous actions, but the reality is that the carceral justice system is one of the largest sources of physical, emotional, and sexual torment for transgender people on this planet.

Transgender people are ten times more likely to be assaulted by a fellow inmate and five times more likely to be assaulted by a corrections officer, according to a National Center for Transgender Equality Report.

Within the prison system, transgender people are frequently denied gender-affirming medical care, and housed in populations that do not match their identity, which increases their odds of being beaten and sexually assaulted.

The alternative to being incorrectly housed with the wrong gendered population is that transgender people are also frequently held in solitary confinement instead, often for far longer periods on average than their non-transgender peers, contributing to them experiencing suicide ideation, self harm, acute physiological distress, a shrunk hippocampus, muscculoskeletal pain, chronic condition flare-ups, heart disease, reduced muscle tone, and numerous other proven effects of solitary confinement.

The prison system is also one of the largest sites of completely unmitigated COVID spread, among other illnesses, with over 640,000 cases being directly linked to prison exposure, according to the COVID prison project.

We know that number is rampantly under-estimated because prisoners, especially trans ones, are frequently denied medical care. And even basic, essential physical care. Just last year a 27-year-old Black man named Lason Butler was found dead in his cell, having perished of dehydration. He had been kept in a cell without running water for two weeks, where he rapidly lost 40 pounds before perishing. His body was covered in rat bites.

This kind of treatment is unacceptable for anyone, no matter who they are and what they have done, and I shouldn't have to explicitly connect the dots for you, but I will. One in six transgender people has been to prison, according to Lambda Legal. One in every TWO Black transgender people has been to prison. One in five Black men go to prison in America.

THIS is the fate you are consigning all these people to when you say that prisons must exist because there are really really bad people out in the world. We should all know by not that this is not how the carceral justice system works. Hate crime laws are under-utilized, according to Pro Publica, and result in few convictions. The people who commit transphobic acts of violence tend to be given softer sentences than the prisoners who resemble their victims.

We must always remember that the violent tools of the prison system will be used not against the people that we personally consider to be the most "deserving" of punishment, but rather against whomever the state considers to be its enemy or to be a disposable person.

You are not in control of the prison system and you cannot ensure it will be benevolent. You are not the police, the judge, the jury, or the corrections officers. By and large, the people who are in these roles are racist, transphobic, ableist, and victim-blaming, and they will use the power and violence of the system to terrorize people in poverty, Black people, trans people, "mad" people, intellectually disabled people, women, and everyone else that you might wish to protect from harm with a system of "punishment." Nevermind that incaraceration doesn't prevent future harm anyway.

You can't argue for incarceration as the tool of your revenge fantasies, you have to argue for it as the tool that it actually is. The purpose of a system is what it does. And the prison system's purpose has never been to protect or avenge vulnerable trans people. It has always been to beat them, sexually assault them, forcibly detransition them, render them unemployable, disconnect them from all community, neglect them, and unperson them.

[dindjarindiaries]

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “You could have died, you know.” “I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” and “I’m afraid of losing you, okay?”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

"Hey! Hey. Stay with me." There was a gentle tap on your cheek that smelled of leather and blaster fire. You groaned and blinked your eyes open, wincing as light caught the silver helmet that leaned over you. "Hey." The modulated voice was even softer that time. "You with me?"

You nodded, grunting as you sat up on your elbows. Din's hands continued to hold the sides of your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as his visor gave you a once-over.

"Easy." His command was gentle, rooted in nothing more than concern as his hands eased their way down to your shoulders. "That was a hell of a blow you took there."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me." You exhaled and began to stand. "We need to get back to the ship."

Din stood with you, one hand on your back and the other holding tight to your hand. If you weren't still somewhat disoriented, your heart would've been pounding at his touch and his proximity. "Only if you're able."

You huffed and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine." You gestured with your head in the direction of the ship. "Let's get going."

Din nodded, drawing his blaster as the two of you began to run to back to the ship. There was no doubt the two of you had already taken care of your attackers, but it never hurt to be cautious. Din, however, was even more on edge than usual, his free hand staying close to you as his visor checked on you more than it did on the way ahead.

It was perhaps the most nervous you had ever seen him.

Once you were on the ship, Din secured the hatch closed behind you, and he wasted no time heading to the cockpit to get you off the planet. You collapsed into the nearest chair and took a few breaths, running your hand over your forehead as a slight ache began to arise. You had known you wouldn't be able to walk away from a detonator blast without at least a little pain.

You were so distracted by these thoughts that you didn't even hear Din return until he was kneeling in front of you with the medpac. You lifted your head at the sight of it and clicked your tongue as you shook your head. "Din, that's really not necessary."

He didn't stop shuffling through the medpac as he answered. "I'd like to make sure." Din paused and glanced up at you. "Please."

You couldn't help giving in to the pure worry in his tone. Your lips stretched in a small smile as you nodded. He returned the gesture and lifted a handheld scanner, using it on various parts of your head, arms, and more to make sure you were free of any critical injures. It time and time again chimed in the negative.

You watched him as he worked, taking note of the way his gloved hand shook as he held the scanner. His free hand was on your knee, and his touch pulsated every once in a while as if he was grounding himself to you over and over again. You furrowed your brow, and once he had completed his scans, you couldn't help speaking on it.

"Din." You reached out for the sides of his helmet, encouraging him to look at you. You searched his visor before nodding firmly. "It's all right."

Din held a breath in his armored chest, his shoulders tensing as his hand on your knee tightened again. His visor fell to study his grasp on you, as if you would fall away if he let go or looked away. After a long pause, he spoke in a voice so strained that it pulled on each of your heartstrings. "You could have died, you know."

You softened even more at that, your thumbs running over his beskar cheeks as you tried to soothe him. "I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about."

Din shook his helmet, lowering it until it was resting against the knee he wasn't still holding. His shoulders rose and fell with each unsteady breath he took. Your softness was exchanged for fierce worry of your own as you ran a hand over his helmet.

"Din." You utterance of his name was just above a whisper. He still remained where he was, practically curled up into you as he clung to you the best he could. "What is it?"

He didn't move even as he answered your question. "I'm afraid."

Your eyes widened at that. You had been convinced that there wasn't a single thing in the galaxy Din Djarin was actually afraid of. He had sure as hell proven that over your time together. "What are you so afraid of?"

Din sighed, lifting his helmet once again so that his visor could face you. His hand ran from your knee to your thigh as if the motion helped him to gain the strength to say the words he was holding so close to his chest. "I’m afraid of losing you, okay?"

You instantly fell apart at his vulnerability. Your brow relaxed as you held his helmet between your hands again and urged him to get closer. The way you moved to the end of the chair helped to close the distance, and soon, you were able to rest your forehead against his helmet. "You won't lose me, Din." You shook your head to emphasize your point. "Not now, not ever."

Din exhaled a troubled breath. "We don't know that." His gloved fingers drummed against your thigh as he fought for strength to go on. "I... have lost so much. It almost feels inevitable. I've put my head down and kept going, but..."

His breath caught in his throat. Your sympathy for him nearly made your eyes well with tears as you waited patiently for him to finish.

"If it were you..." One of Din's hands rose to hold your wrist in place. "I couldn't bear it. Not even the thought of it."

You tried your best to put on a genuine smile for him as you began to reassure him. "I'll be more careful, Din. Okay?" You kissed the center of his visor. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it's not easy."

Din huffed, and a wave of relief flowed through you at the evidence of the darkness starting to leave him. "Neither is jumping near a detonator to protect me."

You chuckled, shrugging as your face began to warm. "Well, you would've done the same for me."

Din tilted his helmet at that. "Yeah. In protective armor."

You closed your eyes and savored your closeness. "I guess you'll have to find me my own suit of armor, then."

Din's hand gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. "I'll be your armor."

You reopened your eyes, smiling at him before you wrapped your arms around his neck to embrace him. Your cheek rested upon the cloth around his neck and shoulders as you nodded to yourself. "Perfect."

din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr

[pasukiyo]

I CAN SEE YOU

bodyguard!leon scott kennedy x f!popstar!reader word count; 1,381 warnings; p in v sex, that's about it lol, maybe angst if you squint summary; leon doesn't believe he's good enough for you. but even he can't resist when he has you up against the wall of a storage closet five minutes to showtime...

 “Five minutes to show time!”

 “Has anyone seen her?”

 “Where is she?”

 Her lips parted in a gasp as she etched crescent moons into his shoulders through the black muscle tee, toes curling as her legs snaked around his waist, trapping him in closer. A hand slithered its way to the hair at the nape of his neck, her head falling forward to press her lips against the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder as he rocked his hips into her. 

 “We shouldn’t…” Leon groaned and muttered a sharp “fuck!” when she clenched around him, drawing him in closer. He couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. “…we shouldn’t be doing this.”

 She mewled beside his ear at a particularly rough thrust, curling her fingers around a fistful of dark blonde ringlets at his nape and tugging. Leon pulled his face away from her shoulder, his dark sea of blue surging into her gaze like a comet colliding into a planet. Despite his words, Leon’s fingertips burrowed further into the flesh of her hips, her skin swelling with bruises as he drove his cock harder into her, impossibly deeper all the while. They’d only five more minutes to finish, and there’d be no way Leon would be able to do his job if he didn’t get his release now. 

 “When will you quit acting so noble?” She managed to ask between gasps and stifled moans, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against his. “Like you don’t want this as much as I do?”

 Leon hissed a string of curses through his teeth and she caught his lips with hers before he could drop his forehead to her shoulder again. Leon groaned into her mouth, allowing himself to be lost in the battle between their tongues for a moment, for just a second. Her smile was a crescent against his mouth and she leaned forward, hoping to deepen the seal of their lips before he pulled away, panting as he pistoned himself as deep inside of her as he could go, driving her back up the wall in the process. 

 “Leon!” She gasped, brows knit in pleasure as his hips stilled, the head of his cock pressed so hard against the spongey spot inside of her that she was seeing stars. 

 “You smeared your lipstick,” he replied simply and she peeled her eyelids back open just as Leon reached out with his thumb, wiping at the smeared makeup on the side of her mouth. Her bottom lip quivered at his touch and Leon peered up at her through hooded lids, sweat beading his hairline and chest heaving in rhythm with his breath. 

 For a moment, all was silent. For a moment, they only looked at each other, the moment so tender and intimate and such a stark difference from just a few seconds ago. Her heart swelled in her chest the longer she looked at Leon and she let her hands fall from around his neck, to his shoulders, to the chest of his dark ‘BODYGUARD’ muscle tee. She could feel his heart pound beneath her fingertips, beating to the same rhythm as hers. Leon’s bottom lip twitched, as if words hung on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released until they were interrupted by a sound coming from outside the storage closet door. 

 “TWO MINUTES TO SHOWTIME! WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE FUCKIN’ FIND HER BEFORE I LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND?”

 She released the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in and Leon blinked, bowing his head down between her legs where they were connected, the base of his cock glistening with her slick. He inhaled a shaky breath as she used her legs around his waist to draw herself in closer, wrapping her arms back around his neck. Leon gazed down at her with those enigmatic eyes that held the darkest of oceans, so inviting, she found herself diving in nearly every time she looked at him. 

 “Kiss me?” She asked, shuddering as she inhaled. Leon’s gaze softened, eyebrows furrowed as he cupped her cheek with one strong hand, holding onto her elbow with the other. He drew her lips back into his where they belonged, beginning to rock his hips into hers again as their tongues danced around one another. 

 Warmth flooded her cheeks as he picked up his pace, his thrusts harder and more purposeful than they were only a moment before. Her lips parted in a gasp, breaking their kiss as her forehead fell onto his, tears brimming the outskirts of her sockets. 

 “Leon, I’m so close,” she whispered, mewling as that knot tied deep in the pit of her stomach began to shudder, ready to shatter. Leon nodded against her forehead, a soft curse tumbling from his full, pink lips. “I know,” he murmured back, his grip on her elbow tightening as he thrusted again and again and again, certain to leave a bruise on her cervix. 

 She could feel tears tip over the glassy barrier in her sockets as bliss washed over her body, her toes curling, her muscles twitching, legs shaking. Leon cursed again as he, too, met his end, hot spurts of his cum filling her up in ropes, painting her white. 

 “ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME!” She could hear someone yell from outside the door and despite her aching limbs and her sobbing pussy, she softly pushed Leon away just as he snapped her panties back into place. She mewled when the material hit her sore clit, a quiet “sorry” falling from his lips as he worked his pants back up his thighs.

 She fixed her stage outfit and Leon helped her down from the shelf he had fucked her into, helping adjust the strap of her top on her shoulder. She looked up at him and after a moment, he met her stare. 

 “Well?” She said. “Do I look okay?”

 “THIRTY SECONDS TO SHOWTIME!”

 The corner of Leon’s lips curved into a soft smile, the most tender she swore she’d ever seen him look before, “you look like a star.”

 Lights blinded her as she rose from beneath the stage, the crowd like an echo behind her earpieces. She sang the first note into her microphone, closing her eyelids shut as the bass rumbled in her chest. She was on the stage now, a limelight finding her as she faced the sea of screaming fans and phone lights. 

 “You brush past me in the hallway and you don’t think I, I, I can see you, do you?” she sang the opening line, swaying her hips to the beat, pointing into the crowd as she pranced upon the stage. The ache between her legs was still evident but she pushed thoughts of sex and Leon to the side, letting herself be swayed and taken away by the music. 

 She sang lyrics she remembered writing deep into the night in a dimly-lit hotel room after Leon had forced himself out of her bed to leave, insisting he was no good for her and she deserved better. The memory of that night still haunted her, especially when she sang these lyrics. 

 “But what would you do if I went to touch you now?” She sang low into the mic, snapping her palm against her hip to the soft beat. “What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a… so-ow-ound?”

 She made her way to one side of the stage as she sang the beginning of the chorus, eyeing the edge of the platform where she knew Leon would be, his back turned to face the crowd. 

 “And I could see you up against the wall with me. And what would you do, baby, if you only knew?” Her lips curved into a smile against the microphone as she stared into the back of Leon’s dark blonde hair. “That I can see you.”

 Although his back was to her, she still had the premonition that he knew she was right behind him. She brought her mic down to her hip and turned, hair whipping behind her as she began a slow strut to the other side of the stage. 

 She had the strange feeling that he knew she could see him. 

a/n; so here's another fic i've had drafted since literally july and only just now got around to finishing it LMAO my first leon fic! i've been wanting to write for this man for years now but only just now got around to it...

TAGLIST;

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

[kpopnstarwars]

Within the Storms of Giedi Prime: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: the long awaited part two of upon the sands of the arena is hereeee

tw: 18+, smut (more than last time hehehe), p in v, swearing, Feels™, death, assassination, use of the Voice (not on feyd), less violence but still violence, i lack faith in my sequel writing abilities, blowjobs, SUB FEYDDDD, also DOM FEYDDD, sex Outside, lightning and thunder (it says storms in the title what do you expect)

wc: 4.2k

part 1

Giedi Prime is a miserable planet.

It’s evident in the choking, black smog from the factories in the dense air fused with the anguished cries of overworked slaves and the distant rumble of the still active volcanos. You’re near the Harkonnen’s palace grounds - you’re heading towards them, actually, and the promise of a… pleasant night; to your left, you can just about glimpse the looming silhouette of the great arena, squatting like a hulking beast on the horizon, waiting to swallow any poor soul that gets too close to its gaping maw.

Tonight, roiling storm clouds reign the sky, sending sheets of furious rain pounding down upon anyone who dares to be out at this hour - including you. Harsh bolts of lightning spear down, hurtling towards the ground like incensed, condensed moonlight and casting freakish shadows.

Moonlight: the colour of Feyd’s skin. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be off this sorry planet - alas, you must stay a little longer, your body already a little warm at the memory of his skilled fingers and scorching gaze. You haven’t been back since the encounter with the na-Baron in the arena months ago, and you can’t help but feel the sting of doubt in your chest, wondering if he’ll still want a second time, or if you’ll sneak into his room only to find yourself replaced by a concubine.

Not that you occupy significance to him anyway, you remind yourself. Feyd-Rautha could not replace you, because there would be nothing to replace, just ashes of a once bright fire.

Irked by the weakness of your own mind, you pull the hood of your cloak lower over your face, tightening it across your shoulders. The hem is sullied by browning blood: you disposed of your quarry just this morning, and delivered the decapitated head during the early afternoon.

Conveniently, the Bene Gesserit have left you alone for now, most likely tangled in the politics regarding the Kwisatz Haderach while trying to predict the next movement of Jessica Atreides - word is that she has burrowed her way deeper into the desert, surrounding herself and her son with the more fanatic of the Fremen as she bides her time, ready for her next strike.

It means that you’ve been granted enough time to establish yourself as a bounty hunter. For a highly trained Bene Gesserit, the work is easy, and earns you coin a plenty while keeping you on the move and as in shape as assassinating sloppy idiots attempting to run from debt and petty disagreements can.

Slipping through the palace’s perimeter proves easy enough. You use the Voice on a few guards, preferring it to cutting their throats: instructing them to keep quiet and forget you passed by causes much less of a commotion. The scaling of the ramparts that make up the circumference of the inner palace is the most challenging, due to the stone being slick with moss and rain - your fingers dig into the cracks between the weathered blocks of stone, the wind snapping and tugging at your cloak, fiercer now that you’re higher up.

There’s a narrow battlement ringing one side of Feyd’s room. You land on it silently, padding over to the window sill; curtains made of heavy black fabric layered on a dark, wispy privacy layer shroud most of your view of him. His pale skin is almost luminescent under the jagged flashes of lightning bathing his quarters, the blanket having slipped half off him during the night. He lies with his bare back facing you, although it’s hardly a vulnerability - you doubt anyone would be able to creep up on him easily enough to bury a knife into his exposed back without him tearing their throat out first.

Apart from you - hopefully.

Carefully, you ease the window open. A frigid gust of air rushes in as you climb through, and you witness the exact moment that Feyd awakens and becomes aware of your presence; imperceptibly, the muscles in his back ripple before he settles again - you posticipate the feel of them under your palms, hard, lean, perfect for sinking your nails into.

A thrill rushes through you at the sight of him, a sort of wondrous feeling, keen as a knife and just as cutting. You want him all over you, you want him to consume you until all you can remember is him and his smouldering eyes and sensuous touch.

Shrugging off your cloak, you let it pool to the floor around your feet before toeing off your shoes too; breath caught in your throat, you steal over to his bedside, your hand ghosting over the solid curve of his shoulder blade before you grip his shoulder, turning him so his back is flat against the mattress and straddling him in one fluid motion.

The cold kiss of metal meets your neck.

You almost moan at the look on his face. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes wild, frenzied almost, glittering with the same danger as before. Running your hands up his hard, sculpted chest, you smirk down at him, watching as ever so slowly, his gelid gaze defrosts with recognition, the ice giving way to those all encompassing flames, flames that you surrender to unequivocally.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ you murmur, fingers circling his wrist.

Feyd blinks, watching you as if he’s going to eat you as always. Slowly, the hand not wielding the knife roams waywardly down your spine, grabs a harsh fistful of your ass and lingers before gliding upwards and settling on your waist. He huffs, an abrupt, amused sound, but you don’t miss the way he greedily drinks up your figure with his eyes.

‘I thought I scared you away, little witch. Presumably, it was not too much for you?’

‘For me?’ You muse. ‘We’ll see.’

Knocking the blade from his hand, you ignore the screeching noise it makes as it skitters across the stone floor, instead enjoying the subtle inhale, loaded with expectancy, that Feyd takes as you lean in close to him. You hover above him for a prolonged moment, arms boxing him in, before he lurches upwards, connecting your lips with his.

A growl sounds at the back of his throat when he tastes you, licking into your mouth as his fingers press at the small of your back, bringing your lower body to meet his. Rolling his hips against yours, he tangles his fingers in your hair; you feel giddy with the feel of him against you, solid and warm and wanting, so real beneath you, so fucking insatiable.

You can’t get enough of him.

Slowly, you pull away, ablaze with the ravening craving in his eyes. The muscles in his well shaped chest flex as he tips his face up, following your lips, and you smile disarmingly at him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down.

Taking his chin in your palm, you tilt his head so you can look him in the eyes before swiping your thumb over his lower lip, savouring the way he’s putty in your hands: a man destined to be the Baron of one of the most influential, powerful Houses in the Imperium, a lethal, strikingly skilled warrior, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, humbled by your touch.

‘Let me taste you,’ you breathe - it’s almost a command.

‘Please,’ he chokes out, imploring you with his eyes.

Laughing, you press a hand to his sternum and push. He sinks back into the mattress, compliant, and you trail your lips down his neck and sternum, leaving hickeys in your wake. You're seized by the need to make him shake and beg and cry; you want to devour him.

Dragging your nails cruelly down his thighs, branding him with livid red scratches, you tilt your head to the side, a smile playing upon your lips as you listen to the groan that leaves him, the pricks of pain setting him alight with longing. There’s a devout look in his eyes - a fervent, zealous sort of lust that stirs within you with the impulse to make him forget his own name.

Curling your fingers around his hard length and giving him a few pumps, you watch him under your lashes, something akin to a power rush spinning your head around and around. Feyd is wonderfully sensitive, and a sneer pulls at your lips when his fingers scramble for purchase, fisting in his silky sheets as you press a chaste, loitering kiss to his cock head - a pearl of jet precum sits at the apex of it, dark against its rosy, delicate flush.

Dipping your hand into your pants, you collect your slick on your fingers and use it to jerk him - when you glance up, his pupils are blown wide; lips parted, he stares at you, transfixed.

Eyes locked on his, you take him in your mouth: his thighs tighten, every muscle taut as you run your tongue along the veins wrapped around the underside of his cock. His head tips back, displaying the strong lines of his neck as you hollow your cheeks, rubbing your thighs together to ease the increasing ache between them. Jaw slack, you gag when he hits the back of your throat, and he growls at the sight of your hungry eyes growing watery.

You toy with him, teasing him with your tongue and grazing your teeth lightly over his length until he’s gasping your name; the way the syllables leave his tongue is almost pleading, his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs shuddering, wracked with tremors.

It’s evident that he’s close, the voracity in his eyes so hot that it melts your bones, sending heat pooling in your core - you’re going to let him wreck your cunt after this; ruin you for any other man. Trembling, his pale fingers hover near your head, splaying over the expanse of your shoulder, his eyes fucking begging for permission, so you pull off him, laughing as his hips jolt forward at the loss, his cock twitching when your fingertips graze his balls.

‘Go on, Feyd,’ you coax. ‘Do as you wish.’

A tender, honeyed noise rips from low in his chest, almost a whimper, a sound you know no one has extracted from him before. It’s the only warning before he fists his hand in your hair, hips bucking as he fucks into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you gag around him, the debased moan that escapes you sending vibrations down his cock.

You almost black out when he comes down your throat. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of air reaching your lungs or the sweet pain of Feyd’s hand yanking at your hair, but you’re sure that you’ve never taken so much pleasure in someone else’s release. Slowly, you sit up, moving to lie beside Feyd, and he smiles dumbly at you, maybe a little fucked out as he leans in to kiss you, sighing as he tastes his own come on your tongue.

‘I could spend hours exploring you, my little witch,’ he says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

Feyd flips you over with only an echo of ferocity from your previous fight, disrobing you and gripping your thighs, spreading them. Your hands find his shoulders, his back, your fingers resting in the dips of muscle there, trailing down the length of his spine as his own find your slick, yearning cunt.

Outside, the storm blows harder, rain pounding down upon the planet’s surface in sheets, lightning lancing through the thick billows of clouds; it is during one of these strikes that you glimpse that Feyd’s eyes are not as dark as they seem, but the colour of glaciers and blue fire. Within them, just beneath the keenness of his electric gaze, lurks something else - something that makes you hesitate. He senses it immediately, fingers pausing their movement, so you fit your lips to his.

You kiss him to avoid the emotions roiling in his stormy eyes.

He responds immediately, and you easily dismiss the thoughts clouding your mind; he barely knows you, there’s no room for the feelings you just saw in his gaze. You seek his body, not his soul, and it is the same both ways.

‘Fuck me,’ you mumble against his lips.

All coherent sentences leave your mind when he flips you over again, this time with your stomach pressed to his bedsheets as he kneels on the mattress behind you.

‘Ass up, my little witch,’ he commands.

Something within you goes molten at the sound of his voice. You can feel his gaze straying all over your skin, greedy, so you tuck your knees beneath you and arch your back, biting down on your lower lip as his palm presses against your lower vertebrae. He chuckles; it warms your bones.

‘You’re so filthy, little witch, displaying yourself for me.’

Bolts of ecstasy shoot through you as Feyd slides his cock head through your folds, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll be left with bruises. Your breath is punched from your lungs when he sinks himself inside you, balls deep, white hot pleasure rocketing down your spine - it tears a wretched cry from you, more so when he starts a brutal, near sadistic pace, the angle destroying you with vicious bliss.

The drag of his searing, velvet cock on your walls makes your toes curl. You think your body might shatter into a million pieces, the way he plucks the euphoria from it so agonisingly, so beautifully. One of his hands finds its way between your thighs, his thumb rolling endlessly over your clit; you find yourself teetering on the edge, suspended there a moment before you fall.

The way your cunt convulses around his cock as you come doesn’t stop Feyd. Unforgiving, he ploughs into you, his fingers still working on your clit, not breaking his rhythm even as you writhe beneath him, trying to jerk your hips away from his to no avail. It’s too much, the pleasure melting delectably into pain and still he can’t stop, won’t stop, his low snarl a warning in your ear as he pins you to the mattress with a hand between your shoulder blades, leaving you helpless to do nothing but take him.

Tears well up in your eyes, soaking into the sheets beneath you as he rails into you, his fingers speeding up on your clit until you’re begging him, tremors shooting through you from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is unrelenting, and you sob as his pace increases, the savage friction sending you over again.

For the second time, you come hard around him, pussy clenching and fluttering, ragged cries wracking your body. This time, you bring Feyd with you, the sound he makes sharp and almost pained. He pulls out, and you mewl at the sharp tug of friction, panting as he comes on your back and ass, claiming you with his dark seed.

Breathless, he sits back on his heels as you straighten your legs until you lie full stretch, revelling in the post orgasmic rapture. Dimly, you hear his footsteps on the stone floor, but you pay them no mind, instead letting your eyelids droop as you rest your chin in the crook of your elbow.

Gentle hands encircle your ankles, carefully opening your legs. A second later, you feel a warm cloth at the apex of your thighs, and you whine, flinching away from the overstimulation. You hear Feyd’s chuckle, and the comforting sweep of his thumb against your skin as he cleans you up, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses on your back as he does; barely a moment after, the mattress dips, and strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

‘How are you, my little witch?’

You hum in response, not wanting to use words. Something niggles at your brain, even through the haze of pleasure. It’s got to do with the na-Baron’s gentleness after he fucks you; it unsettles you, the sweetness of him, and now these words, as if you’re a lover, and not… whatever this is.

One of his wide palms runs up and down your ribs, and you shove those thoughts to the side, instead enjoying his touch, the way your body fits into his, his chest pressed against your front as he traces patterns on your skin with his deft fingers; his lips brushing the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. You find yourself curling away from him a little - his hands on you make something deep in your chest stir to life, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s -

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by the deep, throaty growl of thunder illuminates the room. You’re facing the door: in the crack between its solid masonry and the floor, you glimpse a shadow.

Hastily, you turn, one hand meeting Feyd’s chest, fingers falling into the dip his collarbone makes as you search his eyes, urgent. He stares back at you, not quite guarded, but not quite open any more, and you’re filled with the urge to protect.

‘Give me your knife,’ you hiss.

He sits up halfway. ‘What’s - ’

You push him back down, glaring at his resistance. You can sense the change in the air, hear the subtle scrape of someone’s boot across the stone floor and the swish of clothing behind the door - or maybe it’s just the building storm outside, the escalating charge in the sky as another bolt of lightning is generated.

‘Feyd. Give me your knife.’

Eyes quizzical, he produces it from somewhere behind him, handing it to you hilt first. It’s just in time, because the door swings open, a masked figure silhouetted there. You whirl around, covering Feyd’s body with your own.

They’re holding a knife.

It doesn’t take you a moment longer to send your knife hurtling towards them. The blade seethes through the air before embedding itself with a thunk into the assassin’s shoulder, and as they drop to the floor, you’re up in another second, poised in case there’s another. A flash of movement catches your eye - the dropped knife, retrieved and held in blood soaked fingers.

‘Stand down,’ you snap.

The Voice echoes through the room, and you pluck the knife out of the now frozen assassin’s grasp and slit his throat. Turning, you see the glimmer of amusement and awe in Feyd’s eyes; assassination attempts probably occur often, an estranged Bene Gesserit using the Voice in his room less so.

‘So many people seem eager to sneak into my bed chamber tonight,’ he remarks. ‘Although I must admit I preferred the first one.’

You laugh, collecting your clothes off the floor. ‘I’m glad.’

As you pull on your trousers, followed closely by your shirt, Feyd gets up, and you’re struck by the slow manner in which he approaches you, so much like the way he prowled towards you in the arena, but this time his eyes concerningly soft, his deadly, killing machine of a body marked with hickeys and love bites.

‘Why do you always rush to leave so fast, my little witch?’

‘I - I have places to be,’ you stammer.

He tilts his head. ‘At this hour of the night?’

‘...Yes.’

Feyd takes one step closer, close enough to kiss. ‘What are you afraid of?’

You back towards the window. ‘I fear nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he warns. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

Shaking your head, panic rising in your throat, you turn, the glass chilly on your fingers as you open the window. Feyd catches your other hand, but you whirl around and lash out, a blow to the face followed by a blow to the legs, and he staggers backwards, giving you enough time to slip out of the window and onto the battlements.

Outside, the storm has whipped up, the howling wind tearing at your hood and blowing it off, the rain immediately pouring down to soak your hair, sting your eyes, wet your face. You need to run, you need to get away from him, but the weak part of you - the part that you fear - slows your strides, tugging at you as if it’s tied to Feyd somehow.

He catches up to you easily enough.

Of course he does, he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and he is inexplicably bound to your soul in a way you cannot describe, in a way that terrifies you, shakes you to your very core. He catches your with a hand around your upper arm and presses you to his chest, your treacherous body reacting to him the way it always has as he stares down at you with those burning, icy eyes, droplets of rain running in rivulets down the moonlight planes of his chest.

Unease tears through you. You see it in his eyes, that he feels it too, and you dread the way it does not disquiet him. Your soul feels like it’s slowly rending in two - you need to get away from him, from the unguarded way he regards you, dedication clear in his unwavering gaze, but all the same, you need to remain with his arms trapping you to him, in the bewildering magnetism of his psyche.

‘Tell me what you fear, my little witch.’

You answer through clenched teeth. ‘I am not yours.’

‘You evade my question.’

You stare at Feyd, confounded. This man before you is the same man that you duelled in the arena, yet he is different; there is a certainty in his eyes, an acceptance that you yourself flee from. You’re drawn to him, even as the instincts that have kept your hollow heart intact all these years squall for you to break loose - and yet you fear that too, the evasion, because you know that if you run now, a part of you will be lost, snapped under the tension.

‘What do you - ’

You cut Feyd off. ‘Do you know what I fear, Harkonnen? I fear the look in your eyes, because it’s not just desire any more. You do not seek me in order that I inflict pain and pleasure alike upon you, you seek something else. I fear the look in your eyes because it is the same feeling that rises traitorously in my chest when I look at you, and it terrifies me.’

He’s silent.

You grab his shoulder. ‘Tell me you feel nothing, Feyd. Tell me you crave me for the thrill of adrenaline and the feel of my body - tell me and do not lie.’

His eyes bore into yours. ‘I cannot.’

‘Exactly.’

You wrest yourself from his grasp, turning and striding down the battlements. A strange feeling overtakes you, a prickle behind your eyes and a lump in your throat, an aching tug at your heart which you stalwartly ignore. It is over - you’re done. He made it harder than it ever had to be, but you’re going now.

He grabs your hand. ‘You cannot either, my little witch.’

Struggling, you snarl at him, clawing at your chest, but he pins you to the wall, his eyes aflame, searing, calling to something in you that rises up to meet him. This time, it is too strong; you cannot push it down, a part of you not even wanting to. You can feel Feyd all over you, your senses overwhelmed by him, by the way he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze.

‘You do not have to fear it,’ he whispers. ‘Just let go. You’re holding on too tight.’

He dips his head, claiming your lips. You give in, yield to it, let it wash over you and carry you away on its blissful waves, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he touches you, tenderly, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon; this is not Feyd, but this is him, irrefutably so.

You think this might be love.

It is a wild, white hot blade in your heart that twists, beauteous, enthralling. You believed that it would weaken you, shackle you, but you blaze with the glorious flare of it, the kiss of Feyd’s hips against yours stoking it further. Truly, it is magnificent.

In the only way you know how, you show him. It’s cataclysmic, the way you’re pulled to him like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity, streaking towards him, fated to collide, your hands roving over him, his over you, the taste of rain blooming on your tongue as you bite down on his shoulder, muffling a moan as he ekes sweet, tender pleasure from you. Your head tips back against the stone, eyes raised to the weeping sky, your lips parted as he fills you with his cock.

Feyd looks at you as if you are a goddess. He worships you, cradles you in his arms, anchoring you, grounding you. You do not know where he ends and you begin, nor do you want to know; you wish for your souls to meld, you wish for the two of you to be alone in the universe, unbothered by time or fate or anything.

‘You are mine, little witch,’ he intones against your rain soaked skin. ‘I am yours.’

[neckromantics]

*NSFW*

"You're on the brink of an orgasm that's going to wipe you off the face of the planet, and he's laughing at you again."

Pairing: GN!Reader/Astarion or GN!Tav/Astarion (Not really gender specific, but the MC is said to create slick, so do with that what you will.)

CW: Smut. Beware! There will be: Biting. Edging if you really think about it? Laughter (what). Maybe a liiiiittle bit of tears in the best way. Fingering? Astarion.

You're not listening.

Astarion's laughing at you, and you're not even listening.

It's not quite your fault though, as just about the only thing you're able to hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat against your eardrums.

A high giggle and the sharp exhale of his breath. So cold. So close to the sensitive flesh at the back of your knee that goosebumps prickle along the length of your thighs.

Even colder are the lips that trail up, soothing away those goosebumps before you can squirm too far off in your pleasure-drunken stupor. It's a rather sweet gesture, you think, until the sharpness of his teeth has your hips jerking clean off the bed. Those things-- an ever-present threat to the supple skin that he pulls between them-- digging in until you whimper out his name.

"Astarion." A silent plead for it.

Bite me. Mark me. Break the skin.

Please.

And yet (of course) he doesn't. There's the gentle pressure as he sucks. Works your skin between his lips until he can feel a bruise blossoming beneath his tongue and has to swallow back a mouthful of saliva before he begins to drool. Delicious as you and your sweet blood may be, he won't let it distract him.

Not yet, at least.

He nips a little (okay, maybe it's big) love bite through that downright evil grin that's been splitting his handsome face for Gods' knows how long, now. He could have been teasing you for a ten-day at this point, and you wouldn't be surprised.

You can feel the curve of that grin as it grows mischievous, and you feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes in anticipation. You turn your head to the side in an attempt to hide them, near delirious as he nips another bruise just beneath the space where your groin meets your thigh.

When he hums, it's a thoughtful sound. And, while you're still not listening yet, you can feel the vibrations of it from where his lips are still against you. He makes his move while you're distracted.

Your yelp chokes off into a moan so high that you would probably be embarrassed if you had half the mind. The familiar sting of his gnawing blends with molten hot pleasure as he sinks his fingers back inside of you with little warning this time.

Two of them, long since warmed by your heat from his prior teasing, taking their time to explore parts of you that you've never been able to find on your own. Reaching. Curling. Searching. It's so good. It's so fucking good, and you've been on edge for so long that you're going to full-on cry if he doesn't stop playing games with you soon.

Your heart nearly drops into your stomach when he pulls away only moments later, but he's quick to hush any whimpered complaints before they start. You don't even have time to mourn the loss of his fingers as they drag out of you because they don't go too far. Firm, slick circles rub quick against the rim of your twitching hole until you can barely keep your eyes open.

A wet trail of opened-mouthed kisses up your belly. A nuzzle against the center of your chest before he shifts about.

Your lover crawls his way up the bed until he's all but looming over you. Ruby red eyes peer down at your fucked out expression from beneath heavy lids- drinking in every square inch of you as you writhe amongst the bedsheets and beg so sweetly for him. Yes, this will do nicely.

He seems more than satisfied with this angle. Presses his free palm to the back of one of your shaky thighs and guides it up, up, up until your knee is against your chest and he's got you splayed out. Pinned.

You swear you can feel each knuckle as he fucks his fingers back into you. Three this time, you think, and then make the mistake of craning your neck to watch his glossy digits as they press in again just to see if you're correct.

Gods, you're making a mess of yourself. Of him. Everything is so slick. Every push and pull is punctuated with an obscene squelch that leaves your face feeling hot. You can't control your whimper as you feel it drip from the curve of your ass and onto the sheets below, no doubt creating a wet spot that you're both going to be annoyed about later.

But then, he's finding that spot inside of you that has you singing for him. Presses right into it and starts rubbing these quick little circles that make you cry out his name over and over again until your voice finally gives out and you can only whine with every breath.

And, that asshole, is grinning down at you again. 

With clumsy hands, you reach out to him. Shaky fingers tangle into the curls on the back of his head, and you do your very best not to pull when you guide him down into a desperate kiss that's more tongue and teeth than anything else. The weight of his body bears down upon you- does the job of keeping that leg to your chest even after his free hand moves up to brace himself.

Your hole clenches around him when he comes to you without a fight, sucking him in deeper as a result, and he moans, unabashed into your open mouth like he's fucking you proper. Your breath hitches-- cuts off completely for a moment along with your brain.

But, you're listening, now.

"I know, love. There you are." Astarion guides your focus back to him with a coo so sweet, then licks a stripe up your jawline to tug at your earlobe between those teeth again just to make you squirm.

You're on the brink of an orgasm that's going to wipe you off the face of the planet, and he's laughing at you again. Although, without humor this time. Incredulous, almost, as he watches- feels you cum for so long that it'd probably be worrisome to anyone else.

He sucks in a hiss as you gush around him one last time, so hot and tight that he has to take a moment to steady himself before he gets too carried away.

"I've got you, darling." He assures as you shiver beneath him, cool hands soothing your heated skin as they knead at your (no doubt) tired muscles and rub away at more goosebumps as they form.

When you finally crack open an eye, he's smiling at you again. A small, but genuine little thing that you can't help but find contagious. You pull him down for another kiss before he can say anything about it, though. Smart ass.

[rvttinggrl]

cw: nsfw, corruption kink, gagging, rough, choking, dub con (?) , tell me if i need to add tags

art creds: airys_ooo

Boothill was not a gentle person. born through the heart of someone violent, he now expresses that in every moment in his life. this includes sex, too.

he was fond of fucking some innocent bartender at the pub he goes to occasionally whilst on the planet he was on. this was cycle which would work like a charm on every planet he went to. leading some poor girl into a dingy hotel which he rented for a measly 60 credits. his mechanical digits softly held the girls hand, leading her to the bed.

he laid you down, deflowering you. (more as though ripping off the stem and petals.) he was rough, and when the two of you were finally one he would pound into you. sharp teeth grazed your neck.

If you were too loud? perhaps his fingers as a gag will do. and if his fingers are already occupied, he places a light hand over your neck, keeping enough pressure to give you that additive dizzying sensation he gives.

and when hes done, he’ll leave you in the morning. he’ll leave some credits and a sloppy written note which reads: "we should do this again sometime."

note: dont fuck Boothill unless you want a broken heart.

[pedropascallme]

Din teaching you Mando’a in any way he can. 

Some days it’s making you repeat words and phrases over and over again, helping you perfect your pronunciation. 

“Adate,”(people) he said, waving a finger between the two of you where you stood on the Crest.

“Adate.”

“Put more emphasis on the second ‘a.’”

“Adāte.”

“Jate. Adiik.”(Good. Child (between 3-13)) He pointed to Grogu.

“But he’s—”

“Say it.”

“Adiik.”

“Ori’jate. You’re getting better, mesh’la.” (Very good.)

Other times it would be more difficult, with Din speaking to you only in Mando’a, encouraging you to respond in the language.

“Copaani gaan?” He had come up behind you as you struggled to reach a wire that needed to be rewrapped under a hatch in a circuit board. (Need a hand?)

“Uh…elek.” You hesitated, hoping you had understood him properly. (Yes)

“Ni’liser gaa’tayl.” (I can help.)

“…Elek. Oh! Elek gedet’ye.” (Yes. Yes please.) You stumbled over the words, getting them out fast in the hopes that he wouldn’t point out your mispronunciation. “Vor’e.” (Thanks)

“Mirdala, cyar’ika.” He reached over your head to grab the wire. (Clever)

Your favorite teaching moments, however, were when he was fucking you. Against a wall in public, on the floor of the ship, in your bunk, it didn’t matter where it happened. He’d coerce you into speaking his native tongue, and it made you see stars. 

He was pounding into you, hand lovingly wrapped around your throat as he took you against a large stone on some quiet planet in the mid rim.

“Feel good, pretty girl?” He rocked his hips into you. “Jorhaa’ir, cyar’ika.” (Speak)

You felt heat rush to your core as he spoke, attempting to follow through on his instructions. But forming words right now—in basic or in Mando’a—didn’t come easy.

“El—fuck!—elek! G—gar’ganar ner kar’ta—oh, fuck! Din!” (Yes, you have my heart.) He fucked you harder upon hearing your words, thrusting in and out of you as if it were life-or-death. It was no secret that hearing you speak Mando’a turned him on, and when you said things like that it just further encouraged him to show you how good you made him feel.

He dropped his head down to your ear, still brutally fucking you, and through his helmet you heard him whisper: “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” (I love you.)

That phrase, you knew by heart.

[swanawil]

sooo can I request some (romantic) Adam x reader w/Adam being insecure? Thank you💙

Adam's insecurities

A man that's lost two wives to the same man is bound to have some insecurities

Your first wife leaving you for the most hated man on the planet, and then your second wife cheating on you with that same most hated man on the planet tends to make one insecure.

Yet, you weren't sure if Adam just hid the insecurities, or if the insecurities just bounced off of that giant ego of his.

You froze when walking into the room. Usually, when entering a room Adam was in, whether you were alone or in public, you'd get a catcall from Adam. But you got nothing when walking into the main room of the apartment you guys had.

You looked at him on the couch. He was lazing on it like usual, his gaze fixed on the tv.

“Adam.” You spoke up, your voice stern.

“Huh?” He looked at you, “Oh, hey.” He looked back at the tv.

You looked down at your clothes. They were casual, obviously, you were at home. But the shirt you wore was pretty revealing, and it usually always got some type of compliment from him.

“Adam,” You said again.

“What?” He asked in an annoyed tone.

“What's your problem?” You asked.

“I don't have a problem.” He replied in the same annoyed tone.

You sighed, staring at him. You walked over and sat next to him on the couch.

“What's got my husband so down in the dumps, huh?” You asked softly, slowly moving a hand towards his mask, giving him more than enough time to protest before you slipped it off of his head and tossed it off of the couch into the floor. He had that annoyed scowl on his face.

“Look at you,” you smiled softly, giving him a few soft pecks on the lips as you let your hands wind into his hair, “my handsome man.”

He grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into his lap so you were straddling him, also pulling you deeper into the kiss. You kept your hands in his hair.

You knew he very well wouldn't stop, and this would transpire into more. And you would love that, you would. But you wanted to get to the bottom of what his problem was. Adam had a tendency to just use sex to get away from his problems and distract from them.

And that also meant you getting your guts pounded by him every time something frustrated or upset him.

You gave him a few pecks as you pulled away.

“So?” You asked.

“So what?” Adam asked, a bit upset you pulled away.

“What's your problem?” You asked again.

“Don't have one,” he responded. He leaned in to kiss you again. You didn't even indulge him with a peck, knowing he'd just refuse to let you pull away again.

You moved your hands to his cheeks, stopping him before he could kiss you again.

“Stop avoiding it, you obviously have a problem.” You gave him a knowing look.

He scoffed, looking away.

“Adam,” your voice was soft. He didn't reply. You moved his head to look at you again and you put your foreheads together. “Is it the wife thing?”

“I can't believe that ugly ass fucker took them,” Adam grumbled, looking into your eyes as you pulled your forehead away from his. “I mean, c'mon, what the hell do they see in him? Him! The most hated man ever. They chose that asshole over me? What the fuck!?” He threw his hands in the air.

“They were dumb,” you told him. You trailed a thumb across his cheek. “They were dumb then, and they're dumb now.”

“You're right. They are dumb!” He agreed. “Fuck them!”

“Yeah, and hey,” you caught his attention again. “You got me now. And I'll never leave you. Not in a million years.”

He stared at you for a moment. The tv started to take up the silence.

“God you make me so hard,” he smirked, “so, what's up sugartits?” There he was. The normal, cocky, and honestly kind of disgusting Adam.

“Ew, okay, ruined the moment,” You told him, beginning to get off of him. But you were pulled back down onto his lap by his arms around your waist.

“C’mon babe,” he smirked, whispering in your ear, “I'll show you just how much better I am than Lucifer.”

[swordsandholly]

A little sneak speak into a poly 141 x reader pro wrestling AU I’m working on for WIP Wednesday.

“Hello.” You blink up at the imposing figure above you.

Dark eyes stare down at you from behind his signature mask. A black balaclava with a sewn in skull covering his eyes. An iconic image in modern day wrestling.

The Ghost. Simon Riley. Current Heavyweight Champion. Thirty-one. Six-four and two hundred and fifty-five pounds. Lean.

You try very, very hard to ignore the fact that this massive man standing in front of you is wearing nothing but his wrestling trunks and knee-high boots. It feels so much skimpier in person.

“Och, yer the new announcer, aye?” Another man appears beside him. John MacTavish aka Soap. Another member of the 141 faction.

He’s pretty. The kind of pretty you’d recognize from a mile away. He was always one of your favorites to watch in the indies, when you could, and he continued to be a favorite all the way into the pros. He’s fast, high energy but a heavy hitter at the same time.

Current tag team champions with Gaz. Twenty-seven. Five foot ten, two hundred and twenty pounds and one of the prettiest men on the planet, as per the numerous fan pages dedicated to him and his kilt.

You nod, trying to calm down the rushing in your ears by giving your name and holding out your hand. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the shaking.

“Lovely tae meet ye.” He shakes your hand excitedly, a genuine grin splitting his face. “Donnae mind the big guy - he’s as quiet out of ring as in.”

You snort. So it’s not just the persona.

[st4rrth0ughts]

Hello!! How are you doing? Is everything okay? How did you sleep? In any case, don’t forget to have a snack if you haven’t already!

I really enjoyed your Argenti fic! I actually have so many more ideas, but I don't want to push myself too much.. But anyway! What did you think of Blade with a fellow immortal reader? Again, ignore if you don't like it!

-🌾anon

im running on 6 hours of sleep and Subway so im fine :33

Bladie with immortal reader who's indulgent in his desires. 🗡️🩸

tw, cw: a little bit of knife play. bladie is a maso, and your all to happy to indulge him (going into uncharted territory)

Blade and you weren't so different, other than the fact you were in the IPC and he was a Stellaron Hunter. But you two could care less about that. Damned be your bosses, your both immortal, what the hell were they going to do? The cosmos were infinite, and there were millions of planets the two of you could run away and settle down in. If you were to describe your bond with the man, its passionate, sweet, everything in between. But even then, new things were always being explored by the two of you, like how the both of you could heal from wounds instantly. Might as well make use of it.

Tracing the knife over the exposed skin of Blade's neck made him shiver, his hips already trying to grind against your thighs as soft sound escape him, his eyes tearing up. You click your tongue disapprovingly, pressing the tip over the side of his neck, breaking just a little bit of skin to draw blood, but not enough to be too painful, as much as he wants that. He whimpers, watching his blood trickle down the knife, the deep red of the liquid making him grind faster, a growing wet spot more and more visible in his pants.

He's bucking himself on your clothed cock, gripping your shoulders tightly, whining as he buries his head in your shoulder, soft pleas of 'wan' you to fuck me' and 'I'll be a good boy, please?'. Its rare to get him to even submit so willingly, to get him to be begging and panting like a little bitch in heat is even rarer. Savouring how his fingers dig into your arms, pretty tear filled eyes closed in pure shame and arousal as he grinds his bare pussy against you, your own self restraint is broken when he lets out the smallest whimper.

The normally cold swordsman is thrashing against the pillow as your tongue is plunging into him, cuffs forcing his legs open as he twitches from overstimulation, sobbing as he squirts on your mouth as your finger his clit roughly, flicking and fiddling the nub as he arches his back and grinds his head back into your mouth, fisting your hair as your tongue grazes the soft spot that made him squirm against the mattress. You trail the knife over his stomach, lightly touching his abs as you press it right above his cunt, eliciting a squeal from your love.

When you finally push your cock into him, he splutters as he rubs a bandaged hand over the bulge in his belly. He's babbling some stupid shit about how you were going to fuck a baby in him and being your cute baby momma. How adorable, he cant even speak properly. He really was mushy in your hands, wasn't he? You start off slow, pumping your cock into him as he grips the sheets, soft moans spilling from his lips as his eyes close in pure delight.

of course, it quickly progresses into you pounding him into the mattress, Blade swore that you were trying to fuck his womb with how roughly your cock his hitting his cervix, making his body spasm and loud shrieks of 's' too big-!' as his pretty red eyes are shut as tears spill from them. Your finger reaches out to pinch his clit, flicking and pulling it roughly as your length impales him, making his back arch violently against the bed, dark hair spreading around the bed, giving the illusion of a sea of darkness, the prettiest void you set your eyes on.

The immortal doesn't know how many times you've wrung a orgasm out of him, you haven't even came yet! he's sobbing stupidly into the pillows, pleas of 'cant- s' too much-!' and 'n-no, cumming! m' cumming, please, don't-!' as he fists your ponytail, trying to get you to stop, he cant even think straight and speak anymore? Perfect! Afterall, your goal was to break him and make him a cute little cocksleeve greedy for your cum! You finally decide to end your lovely swordsman's pleasurable torment, movements slowing as your seed fills his womb, making his eyes roll back as you pull out with a wet sound, cooing in his ear as you finger your cum back into him, making his body weakly squirm. You'd honestly thought he would have been able to handle you better, but oh well, being able to fuck him stupid on a daily basis is awesome too.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

❤️

You're tired of hearing about Eddie's crushes, hiding your feelings for him. Sick of feeling second best, you decide to move on.

Beer, a pool, and a very handsome Steve Harrington happens. Eddie isn't so thrilled about the Steve part.

Just a lil two parter to get back into writing

Part one

Eventual Eddie Munson x Reader

Steve Harrington x Reader

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work

❤️

It was a rainy Tuesday when Eddie broke your heart. Unknowingly, but it was broken all the same.

He had came to the Hellfire table in a suspiciously good mood. Beaming smile, eyes shining with happiness.

Turns out he had ran into Jessie who was his newest crush, she was the coolest, most badass babe on the planet according to Eddie.

This had been repeated constantly for the last few weeks and usually you were able to smile politely, pretend you weren't dying inside hearing him talk about his dream girl.

It had been this way for a year now, through multiple crushes, a few hook ups and one near potential girlfriend for Eddie, so you could push yourself to be happy for him one more time right?

No, today it was like your heart finally had enough, a deep ache was building inside you and felt like all the pain was exploding inside of you all at once.

Tears pool in your eyes and you catch the sympathetic look that Dustin throws in your direction. It's enough to sober you up instantly.

You didn't want to constantly pine over Eddie when he didn't want you, it was agony being so completely smitten with someone who noticed every woman but you.

It was like something in you just snapped and you had enough.

"Hey princess, you okay?" Eddie's voice breaks through your reverie and you startle a little as he peers at you intently with his big brown eyes.

His hand is on yours and your whole body feels alight at just his slightest touch, it was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, Eddie could be extremely perceptive when he wanted to be.

You needed to get over how you felt about him and soon, because you were sick of the constant heartache, second guessing yourself and feeling second best to Eddie's crushes.

Moving on would be a good thing. You couldn't take it if Eddie ever found out how you felt about him, embarrassment burns inside of you just thinking about his reaction, and how awkward Hellfire would be due to his rejection.

No, it was best for everyone if you found a way to get over Eddie.

❤️

Normally you didn't go to parties, especially not parties on a school night. However, there was a small part of you that wanted a change, to have some fun and let loose.

One of Jason's friends was throwing a party at his house, there was beer kegs, wine coolers and the biggest pool you had ever seen in your life.

Eddie was at the party to do his usual dealings, he catches your eye and looks stunned for a brief second.

"What are you doing here sweetheart? Parties aren't usually your thing?" you shrug and grab a bottle of beer.

"Just wanted a change of scenery I guess" it's then you notice that Jessie was also at the party and Eddie had noticed judging by the way his eyes light up.

Your heart sinks and you're about to make an escape until Eddie tugs on your hand.

"Hey, maybe you should stick close to me incase one of Jason's dipshit friends tries anything" you smile, touched at his protectiveness but you know deep down he'd rather be talking to Jessie than trailing after you all night.

"It's okay. I saw Robin by the pool so I'll go and chat to her for a bit" he's about to say something else but Jessie comes over and takes up all of his attention.

Yup, it's definitely your time to leave. There's no way you wanted to be around for Eddie making googly eyes at Jessie.

❤️

Between the pounding music, Eddie and Jessie and the fact you've lost Robin in the crowd, it was safe to say that the first hour of the party was a bust.

By the second hour you had gotten involved in a game of beer pong with Robin, Steve, Vickie and a few others.

At first you were kinda wary hanging out with Steve but you soon found out that he had changed so much from the King Steve of a few years ago.

He's kind, funny and kind, genuinely a good guy and him and Robin are like two peas in a pod. Platonic besties with a capital P she tells you and Vickie.

It's nice hanging out with them because everytime you see Jessie and Eddie together it needled at the ache in your heart.

Eddie joins in at one point but seems tense.

"Why are hanging out with Harrington?'' he hisses under his breath and you scowl.

"He's really nice" Eddie scoffs at this.

"Preppy, rich, douchebag? he's seen dating total babes every few weeks." you stiffen.

"Of course so why would he be seen with me right?" you ask heatedly and his eyes widen.

"That's not what I meant... You're beautiful sweetheart..." yeah but just a friend you finish his sentence in your head.

"Just forget it Eddie, go back to Jessie" you hurry away from him and curse yourself for getting so upset.

Steve notices and asks if you want to hang out in the pool.

It's quieter outside than in the house, people are just lazing around lightly buzzed, lost in their own conversations.

Steve makes you laugh by jumping in the pool fully clothed, he lets out a yell when he hits the water.

"Fuck, its freezing" and you swear you hear Robin calling him a dingus. The thought makes you smile.

"So Munson huh?" Steve asks gently and your smile vanishes.

"Mmm, tonight was my big plan to get over him. Didn't work out so well" There's a brief moment of silence that's broken when Steve takes you by surprise and you're suddenly in the pool beside him, soaking wet and torn between laughter and exasperation.

"Steve!" you huff out and his answering smile tugs at your heart. There's also something you didn't expect, a spark.

He moves closer to you and it's like the two of you are magnets. Steve strokes your cheek and his lips meet yours.

It's nice, it's really really nice and you moan softly as Steve gently tugs at your lower lip, deepens the kiss and pulls you even closer.

Steve pulls away and you both exchange a secret, shy smile at the moment you had.

You kiss him again and this time it's a little more hot and heavy. Only this time when you come apart, you're not alone.

Eddie has just come outside. He's staring at you and Steve, his expression blank but you notice something stirring deep in his eyes, a flash of emotion that you can't place.

Then it's gone and he storms back inside..

🖤