#finishing this up i have had the line and been trying to color this for like a month straight omg. finally throwing it up

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

[megamindsecretlair]

If I Took You Home, Part 1

Pairing: Dom!Kevin Atwater x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Food porn. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing, fingering (female receiving), cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. D/s dynamics.

Summary: Your friends were all in relationships so that meant it was time to bug you about your singledom. They were constantly setting you up on dates that made you back out. However, you were sick of saying no and your friend's boyfriend really played up his coworker and friend. It was all true. Your blind date leaves you wanting more.

Word Count: 6,245k

AO3 Link

A/N: Hello, my loves. I am missing Kevin so bad! It's been 3 WEEKS without a new episode. I'm dying over here. Reblog and comment to save a writer's life. And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @amethyst09 @ciaqui @harmshake @nworbaij @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @twocentuar @westside-rot @yaachtynoboat711 @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout @bigsisbria @babybratzmaraj @darqchilddaydreamz

You knew better than to trust your damn friends. You sat at a nice restaurant in a casual berry colored dress, sipping wine and looking like a pathetic loser eating dinner alone. You didn’t have a book to try and pretend like this was planned. Like you decided to take yourself on a date. 

You glanced at your phone. To be fair, you were a bit early. Only because you were so nervous about a blind date to begin with. Why had you said yes? 

You weren’t sure now. Maybe it was your friends and their constant hounding. They were all hooked up with their respective partners so now you were getting the pitying stares. The stressed smiles after they got done gushing about their own dates and partners. As if being single was some type of disease they wanted to cure. 

You took another sip of the sweet wine and thought about canceling. Blind dates were a joke. They probably set you up with some ogre of a man who picked his teeth at the table or scratched his belly after he was finished. 

You looked over the menu to give yourself something to do, so you weren’t just staring at your phone. 

Your mind ran through all kinds of possibilities for this random man you decided to go out with. Maybe he was bald. Maybe he was shorter than you. You didn't mind dating someone short, but they usually had complexes that you weren’t capable of dealing with. Maybe he was a secret chauvinist…

“Excuse me?” You turned your head to the words and got a face full of stomach. You tilted your head up and saw a gorgeous man with hickory smoked skin, dark and luscious beard, and kinked hair. He smiled wide showing a row of beautiful teeth and you were momentarily struck stupid.

“Friend of Claire’s right?” He asked. “I hope.” He chuckled and licked his lips. Your eyes caught the movement, the slow glide of his tongue across the swell of his lips. 

You swallowed a giant ball of stupid thoughts, nodding because you didn’t trust your voice. You were going to have to marry Claire for this one. Absolutely marry her. Her boyfriend, Jay, was going to have to get in line. 

The man stuck his hand out and you looked at it briefly, before looking back into his deep brown eyes. “Kevin Atwater,” he said. 

You sputtered and mumbled out your name, finally taking his hand and shaking it. His hand eclipsed yours, so huge with thick fingers. His nails were clean too. He smiled and finally took the seat opposite you.

You rearranged the napkin on your nap to give you a reason to collect yourself. You were not the type to go all googly eyed for a man. At least not where they could see. When you looked up, you caught the eye of the woman next to you who had been throwing her own pitying looks your way.

You smirked and lifted an eyebrow, communicating without words. She swiftly turned her gaze to her own date, fixing her already neat bun.

Kevin cleared his throat, pulling the seat closer to the table. His legs were so long however, that he still had a lot of room from the table to his olive green button up. It was open at the collar, giving you a peak at his chest and a black tank underneath. A hint of a chain He wore dark jeans and dark green boots to match and a row of bracelets on his wrists. He had already taken off his black puffer jacket when you weren’t looking. 

“You find the restaurant okay?” You asked.

“Yes, ma’am. The parking though?” He asked and shook his head. You giggled, feeling giddy over the ma’am comment rather than annoyed. He said it like it was a casual, Southern thing and not in a teasing way. 

“I know. But I couldn’t believe you’d never been to this place. I thought you grew up in Chicago?” You asked.

“I did. ‘Bout some blocks that way,” he said, pointing South. “But life got busy. Maybe I just needed the right sign to go.”

You smiled. It was a cheesy joke, but why was it working? Perhaps the wine finally got to you, settling low in your belly. Maybe the sudden ache in your pussy was from the alcohol and not the way he looked framed by the wall of lights behind him. Rather than sink out of focus, his face seemed only framed by it. Kissed by it. Like the light settled into his skin with the softest sigh. 

“I’m sorry if I started without you,” you said, grabbing your wine and taking a sip. You’d need your wits about you if you were going to remain cool and calm in his presence. After the disastrous first impression, you needed some points in your favor.

“That’s fine. I probably would have to. What’s that you’re drinking?” He asked. He picked up the menu but didn’t look at it as you told him the vintage. He nodded and gave you an approving grin. 

“Alright, I’ve never had it. Is it good?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Not my favorite but it’ll do,” you said. He grinned and caught the attention of a passing waiter. He ordered some type of bourbon, Old Emmer, and then the conversation turned towards the food.

“Since I’ve never been here, what’s good?” He asked.

The Italian restaurant was famous for a lot of things, but none more so than the lasagna. Every time you had it, you swore up and down that someone in the kitchen was from the Old Country. You could taste the sunshine, hearth, and powdered hands as it worked the dough on the noodles. The tomatoes from the vine in the sauce. That hint of spice from the earth itself. The soft wool of the goat that provided the cheese. And the meat. You resisted the urge to pinch your fingers and kiss your mouth every time you thought of it. 

“I’d say…the lasagna. I can’t resist it when I’m here,” you said. You hoped you sounded cool about it. If given half a chance, your enthusiasm would erupt all over the table and he’d be halfway down the street before you could call him back.

“Lasagna it is, then,” he said. The waiter arrived with his drink and Kevin took a sip. He tilted his whole body back, pulling up his arm so that you had a good look at his throat. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he sipped it down. 

You uncrossed and then re-crossed your legs, your thighs burning in the most unholy way. It settled low in your belly, echoing throughout your core. Nasty thoughts filled your brain. Thoughts you did not need to think about this man that was only sipping a drink.

He nodded his approval and the waiter asked if you were ready to order. Kevin motioned for you to go first, so you ordered the lasagna. Kevin ordered the same thing and then the waiter took your menus.

There was no more armor against Kevin and his attractive smile. “So, what made you agree to a blind date?” You asked. As you tried to steer your thoughts to safer territory, you couldn’t imagine a man as fine as him still remaining single.

“My job doesn’t exactly lend itself to a standard schedule. Makes it hard to meet some folks,” he said. He settled back in his seat and twisted his glass in his hand. The glass looked tiny in comparison. 

You nodded. Claire already told you that Kevin was a cop, like Jay. You asked if it was tough dating a cop. She confessed that it was hard as hell because of the worry. Over the fact that he might not always walk back through the door. And that’s with someone white. Kevin is Black and that brought an extra layer of worry.

You asked if it was worth it. A stupid grin spread across her face. She told you that it was. She’d do it over and over again. Plus the handcuffs helped. 

“Especially someone that doesn’t automatically see you as a person,” you said. 

Kevin nodded. “I’ve had some tussles but I’m still here,” he said. Your eyes darted to his body, taking in his thick muscles and corded forearms. You had no doubt that it’d have to be something huge to strike down Kevin Atwater. 

“I’m glad you are. Okay, but seriously. Help me understand. How do you explain, all of that,” you said and waved to his whole body. “And no long term girlfriend.”

Kevn laughed. “I promise, it’s the job and just not vibing with anyone. There was nothing wrong with them, it just wasn’t there. But now you have to tell me something. How do you explain all of that,” he said and waved to your body. “And no one’s snatched you up yet.”

He smiled and rolled your eyes, refusing to laugh. “I find that some guys these days have to be still carrying around cavemen genes or something. It’s really bad out there,” you said and shivered. 

Truth was, it was incredibly hard to find someone that fit your brand of nasty. You loved sex. Had an insatiable appetite, practically thinking of it 24/7. But you also craved submission. You did so much every day, constantly finding the energy to breathe from second to second. Your work kept you down and your family was demanding. You had to keep up with friends and schedules and made hundreds of tiny decisions every day.

Mentally calculating what was too dressy, too girly, too boyish, too much, not enough. The last place you wanted to have control of was the bedroom. The last thing you wanted to do was order around a man in the sheets. 

Sometimes you just craved masculinity. You couldn’t define it but you’d know it when you see it. The way a man just went around being a man. Flexing muscles, taking up space, manspreading, protecting. What turned you on more was when a man was acting in defense of someone else. 

And it was hard to achieve that with men these days. Because they’d all reverted to primitive, banging on the drums type of seduction. One drink earned them the right to put their hands on your thighs. Buying you food was a ticket to second base. You couldn’t submit if you didn’t trust the fucker in charge of you. 

Glancing at Kevin though, masculinity poured off of him in waves. You wondered what it would be like to submit to him. To hand over your orgasms and watch him treat them with love and care.

Your pussy throbbed in response like she loved that idea. 

“Don’t tell me it’s that bad,” he said and cringed. You gave him a funny look. He shook his head and cursed. 

“Well on behalf of my gender, I’m very sorry. Then again, it brought us together,” he said. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at you. You giggled.

“Okay, stop. You know what you’re doing!” You said.

“What am I doing?” He asked. His voice grew a little rougher and you gasped. 

“Looking at me like that,” you said. Your voice grew softer. 

“How am I looking at you?” He asked.

You were saved from answering by the waiter bringing you lasagna. One huge slice was placed in front of you, a sloppy square of dripping sauce and steam. Some of the edges were burned, the tomato sauce dark with spices. It smelled divine. 

Kevin grinned and looked down at his meal. He gave you a wink, like he was congratulating you on a good choice. But you waited until after the garlic bread was placed between you. He picked up his fork and cut a piece of the lasagna. 

Strings of cheese went with it and he rolled it around his fork. He brought it to his mouth and his juicy lips sucked up wayward sauce. You were treated to another sight of Kevin’s tongue on his lips. 

He chewed and then moaned, a low and deep sound erupting from his chest. Your pussy throbbed with the unexpected praise. You felt good to treat him to something you enjoyed. You got the same feeling when you introduced a new artist or song to someone. But nothing as visceral as pleasing Kevin. 

You finally bit into your own lasagna and closed your eyes, a moan escaping you involuntarily. You even did a little jig, as the food brought so many flavors to your mouth. Something savory with a tiny hint of sweetness. The cheese and noodles complementing each other so well. The meat soaked with the sauce that made you imagine ripened red tomatoes. Plump with flavor. 

You remembered where you were, on a whole ass date with a literal offering from the gods. You opened your eyes and looked at Kevin who sat still with adoration all over his face. Like he witnessed the most magnificent phenomenon and couldn’t make sense of it. 

You gave him a sheepish grin but he gave you a shimmy back. He turned it into a Black person acknowledging that the food was good. No words necessary. Just brown eyes meeting brown eyes. 

Conversation turned towards family as he talked about having to help his brother and sister after his dad went to prison. You nodded along, knowing that dance all too well. He glowed with pride as he talked about his siblings and how it was hard being their father and their brother. 

He admitted they fell into some drama some years ago, but they were all heading towards healing. He was sad for the childhood he lost, but he would do it all over again. You wondered what it would be like to be so positive like him and Claire. The way they saw the bullshit day in and day out and got completely opposite experiences than you. 

You tried not to be a storm cloud, shitting all over what came your way. You couldn’t help it. Negativity was safer. A constant hammer against your soft heart to try and harden you up. But you still had that need to empathize with everything and everyone. And so in the end, it hurt just the same.

You told him about your family and friends and how you came to know Claire. You asked about him and Jay working together and he said that they got off to a rocky start, but ended up being brothers on the other side of it.

You loved listening to him speak. The deep, whispery tone of his that instantly put you at peace and your core set to burning. You longed to hear that whispered in your ear while he did something disgusting to you later. 

Yeah, you’d already decided. You were taking this man home with you and you were going to hand him the reins. You hoped that he delivered. That his smooth and sexy interior matched the drop dead gorgeous exterior. 

You were needy with want. Wanting him. It was an insane thought. You’d only just met him. But his vibe put out someone trustworthy and you always trusted your instincts. 

Dinner flew by with more fascinating stories from Kevin. You delved into past relationships and laughed at each of his horror stories. You told some of your own and was mortified how you could be so blind at the time. 

You had a second glass of wine and he had more bourbon as you shared a dessert. The gelato was sweet and icy. You scooped some on your spoon and made a show of putting it in your mouth. Nothing outrageous, just something to tease him with. 

He lowered his eyes to your mouth and you felt desired. You felt settled in your body. It was a heady feeling and you knew that it had all to do with Kevin. Once he paid the check, absolutely refusing you when you told him that you should pay since you suggested the restaurant. 

You walked outside into frosty Chicago. No matter the time of year, it was a bitter place to be. The wind howled around your shins. You brought your coat closer around your neck. Kevin walked you to your car. 

You didn’t have to walk so close together. He didn’t have to reach an arm out to keep your balance on low heeled shoes. Yet, your shoulders constantly bumped into his and his arm casually went around your shoulders. 

You talked and laughed, dreading every inch of sidewalk you covered. You didn’t want to leave him but you didn’t know how to transition from this date to taking off his pants. When you got to the car on the driver’s side, Kevin smiled at you. You smiled back.

He stepped forward, pushing into you. You walked backwards until your back hit the side of the car. He pinched your chin, bringing your face closer to his. His eyes never left yours while he tilted his head.

“Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this,” he said. His lips brushed against yours and you sighed. You wanted to whimper. 

“I feel it too,” you whispered.

“Come home with me then. Follow me home,” he said.

“I’ll follow you,” you promised. You’d follow him anywhere. This was the most radical thing you’d ever done in your life. Going home with a man after one date? The scandal of it all would turn your friends’ heads. Not to mention, they’d tease the fuck out of you about your blind date going well.

He smiled against your lips, lightly pressing in. He tasted like the bourbon he drank with a hint of pasta. It was a delicious spicy and savory mix that made you lean in for another one. He gave you a brief kiss and then pulled back. 

“I’ll see you there,” he said. He opened your car door behind you, smiling at you, and then tucked you in. You put on your seatbelt and he closed the door with a tap. He finally headed down the street to his own car. You started your car and pulled into the street. 

The blast of warm air from the heater was just what you needed. Except it’d probably make you sweat harder between your thick thighs. You needed his hands there already, spreading your legs so he could look his fill. You could picture it all so well. So vivid. 

He pulled out into the street and you followed him to his place. To his credit, he didn’t speed up or take close lights so that you couldn’t follow. He put his blinker on way ahead of time so you didn’t have to scramble after him.

He led you to a corner building that seemed to be an apartment. The faded blue blended well into the dark night, reflecting the stars above. You found available parking and then got out of your car, looking for Kevin.

He walked down the street to you, collecting you from your car with that wide grin of his. His breath fogged into the night time and you smiled. You took your purse with you. You wrapped your hand around his forearm and he led you to the front door. 

Inside, the place was as cramped as the rest of Chicago, yet roomy enough that you felt like you could breathe. The inside was nice. There was no peeling paint or stained walls. All of the lights worked and there was a first aid kit inside the doorway. You smiled at Kevin. He told you that he bought a building and planned on getting it fixed up. Something to fall back on after he was done with the force.

He led you to his apartment on the first floor and in the back. His apartment was well decorated in dark tones of mahogany and deep steel blue. There was brick on some walls and it all fit with his dark furniture. It was clean and homey at the same time.

There were sweet smelling candles on the coffee table and newspapers beside at a safe distance. He had a record player next to his TV and a rack of vinyl records underneath it. He turned on ambient lights, enough to set the mood without it being sleazy.

He took your coat off and then his own, hanging it on a rack behind the door. You couldn’t walk two feet forward before he grabbed your hips and pushed you against the wall. He thumbs rubbed your hips back and forward. 

He hummed and moved his body closer so that from the chest down, there wasn’t an inch of space to be found. He was so tall. So imposing. So incredibly taller than you that your brain melted.

“I can give you the tour now or later. If it’s now, you’ll take your clothes off for every room we visit. If it’s later, it’s straight to my bedroom but I take my time,” he said. 

Your body shivered. You were paralyzed with indecision. You wanted to do both. At the same time. You bit your lip, thinking about which you wanted more.

Kevin smiled. “Now it is. The foyer counts as a room,” he said. 

You giggled because his “foyer” opened directly into the kitchen and living room. But you took off one shoe and Kevin smiled. He moved you into the kitchen. “The kitchen,” he said. 

He smelled so good, his natural scent filling the room since you were no longer outside. The kitchen was clean, dishes put away and a healthy row of seasonings. He knew his way around a kitchen.

You took off your other shoe, teasing him by technically following the rules. Just because you wanted to submit didn’t mean you couldn’t put up a fight. He took your hands and led you to the living room, his stormy gray couches made lighter by the few throw pillows. He turned on the light in the hallway, and led you to the bathroom. Your dress fell from your shoulders, around your hips, and down your legs. The shimmery material tickled your skin. 

He showed you the bathroom. You were already wet from the timbre of his voice. Giving him a strip show and delaying the pleasure only made you unbearably wet. There was a particular ache in your pussy that you needed filled as soon as possible. 

You glanced around the bathroom, his enormous shower. You took off your bra, sliding it from your shoulders and looking at him from behind your shoulder. He leaned against the doorway, filling it completely. He blocked out most of the light behind him and sucked in the warm light in his bathroom. 

He had a lean to his wide hips and a hand on his belt. The other was above his head. He scratched his head as his eyes looked over your body. “Turn around,” he ordered.

You did as he said, turning around so that he could see your body. He walked closer, eyes straight to your breasts. Your breathing increased, watching him look at your body and find you appealing in so many ways. 

He stopped in front of you and leaned down, planting a kiss to each breast. He hummed low in his throat. “I almost can’t make it one more room,” he said.

You grinned. You took his hand while he brought you to his room finally. It definitely looked like him. Nice, clean, but an air of feeling lived in. He had photos of his siblings in his room, some artwork, and his huge bed. It had to be two king sized beds put together. Or maybe it was just your imagination. But you knew that he was tall as hell so he needed a bed big enough.

It was the final room. Kevin led you further in, half closing the door. He trailed a finger across your shoulders as he walked into the room, taking off his green button up. He stood in a blank tank underneath. 

Next went his jeans. He kicked off his shoes and then tugged the rest of his pants off. Now he had dark gray briefs and a black tank on. He looked like the poster child on the packages men’s underwear came in. 

He sat down on the edge of his bed and beckoned you to come closer. You walked closer, the natural swing in your hips making you feel powerful even though you were handing yourself over to this man. 

It felt naughty. It felt kinky. You finally found someone who could help turn your brain off. Someone who made you so hungry with desire that you didn’t notice anything else. You stopped in front of him. 

“Panties,” he said.

A small word but a physical effect on you. You trembled with need while you slipped your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and tossed them to the side. Kevin’s gaze drifted down your body, stopping at the juncture of your legs. 

Kevin crooked his finger and then you stepped forward, straddling his thick thigh. You whimpered at the pressure to your clit. Kevin grinned, gripping your ass and putting you in the spot he wanted. Somewhere between his knee and his hip, where you were perfectly balanced.

“Let me watch you give yourself pleasure,” he said. It wasn’t a question. More like a soft plea wrapped in a demand. He deferred to your choices while still taking charge. You nodded.

You put your hands on his shoulders and gyrated on his leg, rubbing your pussy on his thigh. He had coarse hair there, but it only served as an extra bit of friction against your pussy. You whimpered more, finding a rhythm that rubbed against it well. 

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he said, that whispery tone tugging on a muscle in your leg. It jumped as you moved your body back and forth. 

You opened your eyes and stared into his while you got yourself off on his thigh. He had one hand on your ass, squeezing every so often while you whimpered and whined. “Come on, let me see you let loose,” he whispered.

You whimpered more, getting closer to the sound of his voice. “Let me see it. Let go,” he continued.

You gripped his shoulders and squeezed your legs, so impossibly close. You gave one final sigh before you did explode, cumming on his thigh. You twitched and jerked, cries escaping from you. 

“Hmm, cum so pretty,” he mused. 

He brought his hand down between your legs, spreading your arousal on his fingers. He moaned at how you soaked his thigh. He rubbed your clit before pushing his fingers inside of you. His fingers searched inside while he brought his lips to yours.

He treated you with a tender but scorching kiss. The kind that made you curl your toes. He nibbled on your bottom lip. You cried out as he rubbed against a deep part inside of you. He flicked his fingers a few more times and you knew that he found your sweet spot.

He mercilessly rubbed it while you sputtered and moaned. You clung to him, hands fisting his tank top. “Shh, don’t fight that shit. Cum again for me,” he said. 

You huffed in a delicious, torturous pain. You were trying. You didn’t mean to fight it, only that you were so turned on. You were afraid that you’d rip apart at the seams and never find a way back to your body.

But you continued to look into his drunken eyes, kissing along your mouth. Till it turned sloppy. Till you couldn’t keep your eyes open a second longer. You felt your orgasm approaching once more. You were still nervous, but there was no holding this one back.

You gave up the fight, letting the orgasm wash over you. You were right. It tore you into tiny shreds. You cried out, twitching in his lap. His other arm came around to hold you still while he continued to finger fuck you.

Your legs shook on him while you rode an intense high. You never wanted to come back down. Reluctantly, you did. Kevin slowed his fingers and then finally brought them to your lips. He painted your lips with your cum and you smelled yourself.

Your pussy clenched and Kevin grinned. He kissed you, licking your essence and sharing it with you. Your tongues mixed and danced. You clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck. 

You made out for some time. Felt like an eternity. Like you spent thousands of years kissing him and it was enough to sustain you. You began gyrating on his leg again. So fucking insatiable for a man of his size.

He pulled back slowly, keeping your lips pressed together for as long as he could. “Never gon’ get sick of that,” he said. “Now I wanna taste it.”

He made you stand up. Then he stood up himself, once more dazzling you with his height. He pushed you onto the bed and commanded you to open your legs. He palmed himself, adjusting his thick bulge, and then climbed onto the bed. He pushed you to the middle so that he had enough room to lay down.

He stared at you while he lowered his mouth to your pussy. The swipe of his tongue made you cry out. You came twice already, both times you jumped out of your skin. But you were greedy for another one. Rewarding him with moans every time he made you feel good.

You couldn’t contain them. He made out with your pussy. Licking before suckling your pussy with his juicy lips. You moaned, grabbing his head and pushing him deeper. He brought his fingers up to finger you again, spearing you with his thick digits. 

“Oh, Kev–” you moaned. “Kev!” 

“Say my name again,” he moaned against your pussy.

“Kevin!” You obliged, thighs tingling. You tensed, eyes rolling to the back of your head. This orgasm was another intense one. Robbing you of breath and sight. You lost control of your body as you spasmed on his tongue. Kevin moaned while he sucked up your essence. 

He stood up, and pulled his fingers from your pussy. He sucked on his fingers and moaned, winking at you. He pulled off his tank and then his briefs went next. His gold chain glinted in the low light. He gathered up some of your slick, rubbing the length of his humongous dick with it.

He was easily the biggest you’d ever taken. Long and thick, he had been hiding an entire monster all night. 

“I’m clean,” he groaned, yanking on his meat. You whimpered, following the motion.

“I am too. I’m on birth control,” you said. It was your turn to wink at him. 

“Let me fill that pussy up then,” he said, groaning as his hand moved quicker. He stopped long enough to gather more, playing with your pussy before leaning back to rub the tip of his dick. 

“Fill me up, Kev,” you begged and laid down. 

He gripped your legs and pushed them over his elbows. He hauled you closer and you yelped. Being manhandled sent a shiver down your spine. He spread your legs wider and then guided himself to your entrance. 

You pushed your hand against his chest as he began to breach. He was so big. If it hadn’t been for the foreplay, this would hurt even more. He chuckled. “You can take me,” he promised.

He pushed against your hand and feeble attempt to slow him down. You hissed as he pushed inside slowly, pulling out and then pushing back in. You grew wetter around him and he groaned as it became easier for him to stroke.

He began to move his hips, rolling into the stroke and you hissed with more pleasure. He filled you up completely, taking him just like he said you would. 

Your teeth chattered as you stared into his eyes, a look of sweet pain on your face, you were sure. You began to whimper, a growing storm deep inside. “I know, I know,” he cooed, continuing to stroke that long dick of his. 

You cried out, his dick hitting your sweet spot. His mushroom head glided against your inner walls and you scrambled for something to hold onto. Your hands found his forearms.

“Kev–” you cried, not enough breath to form his full name. He leaned down and kissed you on the forehead. 

“Be good for me and cum on this dick,” he commanded. 

You bounced on his dick, wetter by the second. He groaned as you slid easily on his dick. “Cum on this dick, cum on this dick,” he chanted over and over, his harsh breath fanning across your heated, sweaty skin. 

“I’m–, oh fuck I’m–” You groaned, throwing your head back while you came. You squeezed the hell out of his dick, holding on for dear life.

Kevin groaned on top of you, his strokes having to slow down while you came. “Fuck, pussy feel even better,” he said. He kissed your forehead again and panted. 

He was still stroking, getting stronger with each slide. “One more,” he pleaded.

Fuck! You couldn’t! It’d been a while since someone tore your ass up. Your solo adventures never quite getting you there that many times. However, underneath Kevin, you felt another stirring. This one was quick. You felt it coming and yet you felt like it’d snuck up on you. 

You convulsed on his dick with loud, whimpering cries. Broken and estranged sounds escaping you. 

Kevin moaned, dropping his sweaty head to your chest. His lips found your nipples and he sucked on them, alternating every so often until they were hard little buds. He kissed along your neck and shoulder, stroking deeper at the closer contact.

You moaned, nails digging into his back. He moaned in your ear while his strokes increased. As if he had been holding himself back earlier and now he could let loose. Now his strokes could turn sloppy and desperate. 

“Finna nut,” he moaned.

“Nut in me, Kev. Please, please,” you begged.

“Beg for this nut,” Kevin hissed, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulled back, you sniffled.

“Please Kev. Please nut in me,” you begged.

Kevin groaned, leaning up slightly and climaxing. Hot pulses of cum filled you and your body jerked, feeling the warm length of him inside you. Kevin pushed his hips in like he was trying to keep his cum inside. Let it soak deep into your pussy.

Kevin’s lips found yours in a sloppy, messy pattern and you licked at his lips, completely spent. He grinned and finally pulled out of you. You moaned as his cum slipped out too. Kevin lowered your legs, pushing them open so he could watch himself drip out.

Satisfied, he gave you a final kiss on the forehead. You sighed, settling into his bed like you were settling against a cloud. He returned from the bathroom with a warm washcloth and cleaned you off. He put it back into his bathroom and then he crawled into bed, turning off the lights beside him.

He was warm, impossibly so. Like a furnace all by his lonesome. You turned onto your side and he snuggled against your backside. “That was incredible, thank you,” he said. He kissed your cheek. 

“I should be thanking you,” you said, with a small chuckle. 

He began to nibble on your ear. “Stay tonight. So I can wake you up to my fingers between your legs,” he whispered in your ear. 

“I can’t say no to that,” you said. You didn’t know the proper etiquette for a one night stand. Were you supposed to dip? Were you supposed to stay? One night stand implied that you weren’t going to see him ever again.

But you wanted to keep seeing him. You wanted to experience this over and over again. The way he established control but still gave you plenty of chances to back out. You didn’t have to make major decisions and didn’t have to worry about anything but receiving pleasure. You were thoroughly hooked and needed far more than that.

“Maybe I should feed you some dick. See how well your mouth takes it. If it’ll be anything like your pussy,” he said. 

Your pussy clenched with his filthy words. Somehow lulling you to sleep. You were incredibly warm. He pulled the covers over you, trapping you with all his heat. 

“So many things I wanna do. Maybe I should tie your hands behind your back and face fuck you until I cum all over that gorgeous face,” he said.

You moaned softly, tiny gasps that filled the quiet space. “Please,” you whispered. You didn’t know what you were begging for. A break? You had so many orgasms tonight, you lost count. More? You couldn’t survive another one at the moment, but fuck it. If you passed out, then you just passed out. 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said. You fell asleep with a goofy grin on your face.

Need more Kev in your life? The Secret Kevin Atwater Files

[gncrezan]

@infamous-if august pierce you have bewitched me mind body and soul.......

[doodlboy]

Hoo boy, miserable in the club 2night lads

[tillman]

Missed dnd so bad. I love when there is a thing and its all I ghink about

[arien-rey]

desires

cw: creampie, slight dumbification, slight impact play(choking), nipple play, dry humping

summary: miguel and you are lab partners and accidentally create a dangerous concoction <3

an: inspired by a certain professor cal audio🤭 iykyk also i didnt proofread so im sorry for any typos (i got a little lazy towards the end😭)

wc: 1.7k

in the heart of a bustling laboratory where the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and the sound of clinking glassware, you found yourself immersed in a groundbreaking project. Alongside your lab partner Miguel, a very meticulous scientist, you both delved in the world of scientific studies—motivated to revolutionize the world of focus and concentration, something people have been lacking in 2099.

within the laboratory walls, you felt anticipation and excitement in the air as you both pushed the boundaries of possibility, propelling the project forward with relentless determination.

As days turn to weeks, your passion for the project never faded. Countless sleepless nights, cups of coffee, and trials and errors ensued, but with every setback you came back even stronger than before and you believed you were finally reaching the finish line.

In just a few weeks, you've grown very close to your partner Miguel as well. You find yourselves sharing lunches and engaging in conversations about exciting discoveries. It doesn't hurt that he is both handsome and charming. To your surprise, you discover that he is single after discreetly asking your other lab friends. Fueled by the possibility you might have a chance, you start to dress a little differently. Gone are the days of "comfort-first" outfits; instead, you opt for shorter (riskier) skirts and cute blouses that accentuate your style. Maybe, just maybe, once this project wraps up, you'll gather the courage to take your shot.

That brings us to tonight. the quiet air filled with the soft hum of machinery and bubbling liquids. The lab was completely empty except for the two of you as usual, with dim steril white lights engulfing the room. Besides you, Miguel carefully measures the ingredients to be added into a bubbling beaker while you prepare the compounds. He looks especially attractive right now, with his hair messy and the button-up under his lab coat unbuttoned lower than usual. You both frustratedly hit a wall, and it seemed no matter what you added to your formula, you weren't getting the necessary results. You chewed on your lip, hoping for the best this time around when suddenly the silence was broken by Miguel’s sleepy baritone voice.

“What if we added a touch of this?” he suggests, his large hands reaching for a vial labeled “Enhancement Catalyst.”

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the label was partially torn and now difficult to read.

You paused for a moment, considering Miguel’s suggestion. His voice, warm and soothing, made you feel at ease even in the face of frustration. His idea seemed like it had potential, an unexplored avenue worth exploring. You studied the compound in his hand, noticing how his fingers delicately held the vial, the reflection of the lab lights dancing across its surface.

“where’d you get that?”

“It was next to some of the older blends we used for testing by the cabinets. I think we should give it a chance.”

“Maybe it could work,” you replied, a glimmer of hope in your voice. “Let’s give it a try.”

As you gingerly added a few drops of the liquid, the concoction seamlessly mixed and enveloped the air with a distinct aroma. Without warning, the mixture began to intensify, rapidly bubbling and sizzling, releasing mesmerizing sparks of vibrant colors. Both you and Miguel exchanged anxious looks, acutely aware that something had gone awry and instinctively take a few steps back.

“Be careful.” He murmurs, shielding you with his forearm as you both watch what unfolds in front of you.

anticipation filled the air once again as minutes stretch to feel like an eternity. you cock your head to the side curiously, watching the concoction turn into a glowing, luminescent liquid.

You sigh in relief.

“whew. good thing nothing bad happened!”

you mutter shyly, but as you inhale deeply, a rush of sweet fumes fills your throat. You sneeze a couple of times from the overpowering scent, only to realize that it has spread throughout the entire room.

“I'll turn on the vents.”

Miguel says, clearly inhaling the strong aroma too and walks towards the exit where a few controllers for the AC and such are.

You nod at him, suddenly taking a sharp breath as your heart begins to race. You try to shake it off as an adrenaline rush from the experiment, but instead of it going away, your cheeks heat up and you feel a strange tingling sensation in your lower stomach. you lean over your desk and blink, your mind spinning.

Your vision is hazy, and you glance to the side to see Miguel run his hand through his hair, a distressed look on his now flushed face.

“s-shit i think something went wrong. what is this?”

“I don’t know , but we need to find a way to..”

you trail off, feeling in a daze as you watch Miguel take a step towards your direction, his crimson eyes locked on you intensely. you took a shaky breath, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together. “.. reverse it.”

You turn and slam open a cabinet, ripping out your journal to find some sort of way—any way to reverse the effect of this sort of aphrodisiac, and Miguel did the same at his desk. seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours as your efforts turned fruitless. Unfortunately for you, the effects only worsen and your desire for him only electrifies more.

“fuck, fuck..”

Miguel groans, and you turn your gaze to see the tall man manspreading on his chair, his head thrown back, and brows furrowed as sweat trailed down his forehead. your gaze travels down his body and- oh. there you saw, in all its glory a huge tent in his pants, his hand resting by his thigh—twitching as he resisted with all his will-power not to touch himself. You bite your lip and squeeze your legs together, the unbearable heat in your core making you whimper quietly.

Miguel catches you looking and clenches his jaw.

“We can't.. let this consume us,” He strains through gritted teeth. “We need to quarantine .”

“Good idea. You stay here, I’ll leave the room.”

You replied breathlessly, using the last bit of your rationale. this was wrong, so so wrong… but your legs wouldn't move.

Suddenly it's quiet again, the silence only broken by both your heavy breathing. You lock eyes with Miguel, both your and his eyes half-lidded and the electric tension instantly snaps, and Miguel bolts up.

no words are said as he leans forwards and captures your lips in a hot kiss.

his large hands almost encompass you as he holds your hips, pushing you back against your desk. you moan into the kiss, tugging on his hair and he effortlessly lifts you onto the edge. after a few more seconds of passionate, sloppy kissing, you both pull away panting.

“Take this off, now.”

Miguel growls, eagerly assisting you and breathlessly helping you remove your lab coat, blouse, and skirt. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his jaw, drawing him in for another passionate kiss. In the midst of the embrace, he skillfully slides the bra straps off your shoulders and unclasps it.

You gasp, feeling the cold lab air make contact with your sensitive skin, hardening your nipples. He reaches up and rolls the buds in between his calloused fingers and you moan, arching into his touch. Your body seems even more sensitive because of the aphrodisiac and his touches leave fire in its wake.

You gasp as he pulls you closer to him, rubbing his huge erection against your clothed core, the wetness seeping through the fabric and the sloppy sounds of your slick against him making you both moan.

“Miguel, please!”

you whine, leaning back and throwing your head back as you desperately trying to meet his grinds ,his hands holding your hips with bruising strength.

“I know, I know.. Don't worry baby, let me take care of you.”

He sighs, and finally after what felt like centuries he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the clicking sound of metal and leather making you shudder. He hastily shrugs his lab coat off, rolls his sleeves up, and unbuttons his pants and pulls it down along with his boxers, just enough to let his whole cock spring out .

You bite your lip at his impressive length, the tip an angry red with prominent veins running under the shaft.

“I’m sorry—I can’t stop.”

He stammers, right before he tears your panties off and plunges the tip inside you with no warning. You arch your back, digging your nails into his wrist as he plunges his cock inside you without giving you much time to adjust to the huge girth. You throw your head back and close your eyes, trying to breathe through the intense stretch. Thankfully you were so wet it slid in with relative ease.

“youre so fucking tight.. shit.”

he hisses, bottoming out completely before sliding it out almost all the way and slamming it back in. You moan, his praise making your stomach flutter. He pulls your legs over his shoulders and you gasp at how deep he is and full you feel in a mating press.

“shitt, miguel.. it hurtss” you slur, already cockdrunk as he begins to move in and out at a brutal pace, his thrusts heavy and mean. tears welled in your eyes and as they fall he uses a thumb to wipe them away.

“I know, I know.. its ok baby.. you’re taking my cock so fucking well..”

He groans, trailing his hands down to play with your clit. He spits a thick wad of spit where you both connect and rubs his fingertips against the sensitive bud in rapid, sloppy circles, making you sob. the pain from before melted into hot blissful pleasure in seconds, your mouth hanging open in an ‘o’ shape.

“yeahh mhm.. you like that? huh?”

he chuckles dryly, feeling how you clenched around him, desperately sucking him in. He moves his other hand to wrap it around your throat, squeezing his palm around your small neck.

“M-Miggy, ‘m gonna cum!”

you sob, your mind and vision going foggy from a mix of the aphrodisiac, the overstimulating pleasure, as well as the slight asphyxiation. Miguel leans forward, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispers:

“You don't know how long I've wanted this. I see you wearing your short little pencil skirts to work and how you wanna get my attention… and it takes everything in me to not pounce on you.”

he confesses, his hot breath fanning your ear, sending chills up your spine.

“Miguel…”

“Now cum on my cock, baby. show me how good I make you feel.”

he growls, speeding up his thrusting and the pace of his fingers on your clit until it all becomes too much and you let out a silent scream, too overwhelmed to make any noise. your nails dig into his wrist leaving crest indents on his skin as your white hot orgasm crashes over you intensely. Miguel groans and curses, trying to hold you down as you squirm and buck under his overstimulation touches, his thick fingers never slowing down on your sopping clit. After a few more heavy pounds Miguel follows; his cum gushing beautifully out of the sides of your pussy and dripping down his cock.

He doesn't stop for a minute, flipping you over and tugging on your hair, forcing you into an arch.

“Don’t think we’re done yet.”

the aphrodisiac’s effect is not gonna go away any time soon..

[little-lynx]

EVERLARK OUTFITS: THE VICTORY TOUR

This part of “Catching Fire” is done (finally) so I put it all together;) DISTRICT 11, THE SQUARE

I go to my compartment and let the prep team do my hair and makeup. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. <…> As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Cinna puts the finishing touches on my outfit, switching my orange hairband for one of metallic gold and securing the mockingjay pin I wore in the arena to my dress. <…> I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. // Catching Fire, ch. 4

I think this dress should be a little semi-official so I choose cape sleeve sheath midi dress. It’s perfect for autumn (and they have early autumn weather there in 11th). The hair is just plain + gold hairband = girlish innocent look like the one after the games (this tactics they choose for the Tour). Plus I wanted to draw Katniss with her natural straight hair because i draw her with her braid usually ;) And again nothing about Peeta’s outfit. You know I feel like Portia 😅 because I have to choose how to dress Peeta. I’m not complaining through. So it is black suit with golden buttons (matching Katniss’s hairband and pin), thin soft orange sweater and black leather shoes.

DISTRICT 11, THE DINNER

A pale pink strapless dress brushes my shoes. My hair is pinned back from my face and falling down my back in a shower of ringlets. Cinna comes up behind me and arranges a shimmering silver wrap around my shoulders. He catches my eye in the mirror. “Like it?”  “It's beautiful. As always,” I say. “Let's see how it looks with a smile,” he says gently. // Catching Fire, ch.5

DISTRICT 7

Jackson has devised a game called «Real or Not Real» to help Peeta. He mentions something he thinks happened, and they tell him if it’s true or imagined, usually followed by a brief explanation. <...> But since Peeta’s greatest confusion centers around me—and not everything can be explained simply—our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating. Perhaps it isn’t even possible after what Snow did to him. But it does feel right to help him try. // Mockingjay, ch. 19

So we have only one sentence in “Mockingjay” about this outfit. And still I decided to draw it because I have a theory (head canon?) about it. I think Peeta remembers the color of her dress because it was special night for him (a lot of kisses and attempts to sneak away from everyone and maybe it felt very real at times) and also because she had two braids and the dress was red. RED is the color ❤️. / Peeta has dark red + black + a little bit gold which is also sexy color combination.

DISTRICT 5 I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour.  <…> Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta’s suits that they altered— the clothes are striking. <…>  As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s.  // Mockingjay, ch. 16

Katniss: green silk dress + wavy sleeves + sea waves embroidery / Peeta: ivory dress shirt + knitted green waistcoat with sea waves embroidery + tweed suit

DISTRICT 2

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head. “I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna. // Catching Fire, Chapter 15

This description gave me strong “Anastasia” feels 😅. So I loosely based Katniss dress on Anastasia’s ballet evening gown. For Peeta I chose tuxedo jacket similar to Salvatore Ferragamo design for FF 12/13.  Neo classic, purple velvet, shiny shoes. Also I decided to include a cane, both to help Peeta to have some rest during all this Tour activities and as an accessory.

DISTRICT 12

When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full-length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so I slip off to find her. <…> She [Madge] saw my reflection behind her and smiled. “Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.” // Catching Fire, ch.6

When I started drawing this one I just felt that I need to make it look very “Capitol”. So I added some feathers. A LOT of sparkling feathers, haha. Also there are some “moon and stars” accessories in Katniss’ hair because this silver gown gives me moonlight vibes. For Peeta I came up with classic suit but made him wear it casually.

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: You take your nephew to a Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Q&A event. The mischievous 8-year-old asks if he can get in line to ask a question. Against your better judgement you agree and let him go up by himself.

Word Count: 626

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

A/N: I had no intention to write anything on this account but here we are. Excuse the mess.

A young boy - 8 years old, dark hair and eyes full of mischief - walks up to the microphone.

"Hi, I have a question for Bucky..." He asks shyly.

The moderator nods, "What's your question for him, little man?"

The boy looks over at the seats nearby behind him and smirks, turning back to the stage with some more confidence this time.

"Will you marry my Aunt?"

The crowd let's out collective gasps, giggles, and awws. There's some cheering and a loud "OW OWWWW."

You inhale quickly and choke on your own air supply, trying to compose yourself. "BENJAMIN!!!"

You're horrified and shrink down in your seat while pulling your hood up over your head for added cover.

While you contemplate the fastest way to snatch the little traitor and get out of there as swiftly as possible you hear Sam's loud laugh echo through the room.

"I assume that was your Aunt and you're Benjamin?" Bucky asks while smirking.

Tiny traitor nods while grinning ear to ear. "I'm Benji, Auntie's name is Y/n and she thinks you're sooo handsome," he exaggerates with an eye roll, "and she's super fun and pretty and you'd be the coolest unc--"

Exit plan secured you jump out of your seat and rush over to cover his mouth and pull him back from the mic. Your hood still up and head ducked down.

"You said you were asking about the mechanics of his arm, you tiny little punk," you mutter at him but the microphone still picks up what you said.

While you have him secured in a headlock you quickly speak into the mic, avoiding all eye contact. "I apologize, I've never met this child before... I'm going to return him to the proper authorities immediately."

Picking your nephew up as quickly as you can, you toss him over your shoulder. His fit of giggles exploding while he tries yelling out again, "But he hasn't answered yet!"

"He's free later tonight, Aunt Y/n!" Sam shouts while you retreat to the back of the conference room towards the exit. "Your future family seems nice," he jokes while nudging Bucky's arm.

Benji tries to shout back across the room, "SHE IS FREE TOO!! EVERY NIGHT!!"

You shove the exit door open, "You're so dead. On my pick up days for school I will be blasting every embarrassing song I can find with the windows down. I'm going to start saving now and I will be buying every ad space available in your future yearbooks and I will be plastering them with your baby photos. And not the cute ones." Like this kid ever took a photo that wasn't cute.

***

The two of you walk around a food truck area set up outside the conference space. Benji is happily eating a pretzel you only bought so your sister wouldn't kill you for neglecting her child. You grab a seat at a small table to people-watch while he finishes up his undeserved treat.

You let your hood down, setting your vibrant and wild hair free. The color is easy to pick out in a crowd.

Benji is explaining in great detail the plot to a video game he has been playing with his friends and how one level keeps tripping them up.

The chair next to you slides back, "Is this seat open?" A deep voice asks.

Benji grins, "Yes!"

You already know who it is, but you're still startled when you look over and see none other than Bucky Barnes sitting with you and the small trouble matchmaker.

"So... is the potential cool Uncle position still available?" He smirks, hand on his chin looking over at both of you.

This little punk might be getting free pretzels and ice cream for life.

Alright folks! By popular demand, here is part 2!

Uncle Buck Returns

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep

you and Eddie meet at the library. he’s smitten.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, bookworm!reader, lovesick!Eddie, reader gives Eddie book recommendations. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: brief mention of loneliness & negligence in Eddie’s childhood. Word Count: ~2.2k it's my hope to make this a little series! i think eddie is def a bookish guy - no lord of the rings quoting, metal head dungeon master hates reading. he would certainly be open to any fantasy/horror recs you had for him! <3

Indiana. 1989.

Hawkins Library sees a lot of action in the summer.

They offer a wide variety of youth programs to keep the local kids busy and the parents sane while school is out. One of the main events is Saturday Story Time, a beloved weekly staple that you have recently been tasked with putting on.

It’s simple. You gather a number of books, usually with a common theme, and then read a select few to the children who had signed up for the day. Most of the kids in attendance are no older than six or so, with some parents even pulling up chairs to the back so they can sit with infants cradled in their arms. The older ones sit criss-cross-applesauce on carpet squares in front of you, their chubby faces alight with giggles as you recount each silly, fantastical story with all the spirit you can muster.

And then there’s always an accompanying arts and crafts project, of course. If you read The Very Hungry Caterpillar then, naturally, you have to make little googly-eyed caterpillars out of popsicle sticks and colorful pom-poms. You don’t make the rules.

If trouble occurs during Story Time, it’s usually in this phase. (Giving paste to toddlers is always a gamble – you never know what they’re gonna do with that.)

And on this particular morning, it’s been chaos from start to finish. A whopping eighteen kids had signed up, and you stretched yourself pretty thin trying to attend to everyone.

One of the babies spit up directly onto the little girl sitting in front of him and his mother. Someone slipped on their carpet square and fell harshly to the floor, earning a bruised elbow that you gently fussed over. You wrangled a pair of twins who fought bitterly over a bottle of Elmer’s glue. There were three individual running-with-scissors-scares and, finally, you spent a good ten minutes soothing one sobbing child with whom there was nothing apparently wrong with, and that you suspected was just in need of a good cry.

So yeah, it was basically pandemonium.

But eventually, to your great relief, things wound down. The audience dispersed, with their handmade goods clutched in sticky fists, and went to peruse the glossy line of picture books you put out for display. Within the next hour or two, everyone traded the cool darkness of the library for buttery sunshine, and all was quiet again. You waved cheerfully to the last parent-child duo as they made their exit, promising them that there’d be a fun activity next weekend too.

You love these storytime sessions, you really do, but sheesh. Sometimes they run you ragged. With the havoc of the morning finally over, and the promise of lunch in your near future, you try to shake off the weariness, and instead take it upon yourself to clean up the disorganized mess someone’s made of the horror section.

You’re going about your work, tongue poking out in concentration as you strain to reach the really high shelves, when you notice someone standing in your peripheral vision. You turn and glance at him, or at least, what you can see of him. He’s half-hidden by the shelf behind you, but you catch sight of brown hair and denim.

A pale face appears on a craned neck from around the corner. His dark eyes meet yours, widen slightly when he sees that you’ve caught him lurking, and he abruptly disappears again.

You purse your lips to hide your smile. This isn’t uncommon; such moments often occur when you’re cleaning up a section of books someone is hoping to sift through. In a small act of kindness, you move over to the neighboring shelf and look for something to busy yourself with; trying to give the guy a chance to browse without having to ask you to step aside.

He doesn’t emerge. You wait, expecting to sense him passing by you, but no dice. It’s amusing to think that someone might be frightened to approach you (You? Really?) but you can’t help feeling sorry that you were in his way.

The rest of your shift is rather uneventful. At the end of the day, you punch out and head home, the stranger behind the shelf forgotten. 

When you come back to work on Monday, it’s much quieter than the last morning you’d been in. You greet your coworkers and set up shop at the front desk, opening up a book of your own to pass the time until someone needed assistance.

You’ve been reading for about half an hour when the big double doors open up for the day’s first visitor, the sound echoing loudly in the silent, spacious room. You look up in interest, ready to greet the person with a warm smile.

“Good morning!” you softly call out as he comes into view. He walks slowly towards you, shoes scuffing the checkered tile with each step. As he comes nearer, you can see that he’s biting his lip, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the gesture oozing self-consciousness. He only makes eye contact with you for a second before his gaze flits away again.

He’s pretty conspicuous-looking to be approaching the desk with such hesitance, you think. He has dark hair that hangs in slightly-scraggly curls down to his chest, and huge dark eyes. The pale skin of his arms, sticking out from within a denim vest/Judas Priest t-shirt combo, are littered with tattoos.

He pauses a few feet away from you, like he’s debating whether he wants to stop and chat, or to simply veer off towards the bookshelves and start browsing. Ultimately he decides to shuffle forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Hi there. What can I do for you?” you ask, voice gentle but encouraging.

He looks down and rests a hand on the desk, absentmindedly tracing the wood pattern with his thumb. “Um, yes.” He doesn’t offer anything else.

There’s a pregnant pause, both of you digesting the fact that what you had asked was not a yes or no question.

He tries again. “I…am in need…of some new reading material.”

You nod gravely, expression serious. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

He begins to rock lightly back and forth on his feet, contemplating. “I like fantasy, especially Tolkien. I read a lot of horror, too, and sometimes sci-fi. If you had any suggestions for me, that’d be great.”

“Oh, we can certainly find you something,” you reassure him, already flipping through a mental rolodex of your favorite books in those genres. “Here, come with me.”

You stand and move around the desk to meet him, beckoning for him to follow.

Eddie watches you run a delicate hand over the spines of the books, keenly aware of the clammy sweat that’s flooding his own palms. Be cool, Munson. 

“So,” you begin, a gleam of excitement in your eyes, “you like fantasy. Do you read Le Guin?”

Eddie nods eagerly, hair bouncing slightly with the movement. “Oh yeah, I’ve read the Earthsea trilogy.”

“Have you read any of The Hainish Cycle books?”

“I haven’t read those ones, no.”

You pull out two slim paperbacks from the row, holding each one out for him so he can study the covers. “These ones are science fiction, and they’re pretty good. You might like Rocannon’s World since it’s similar to a fantasy novel, but personally I think Left Hand of Darkness is the best.” You suddenly pause, and look around furtively, like you were checking to make sure that you two are really alone. You even put a hand up to the side of your mouth, as though shielding the conversation from eavesdroppers.

“Honestly,” you lower your voice like you’re admitting something scandalous, “I even liked it better than Earthsea.”

“No!” Eddie immediately matches your whispered, gossipy tone and lets his jaw drop, pretending to be aghast.

“Yes!” you insist, seemingly delighted by his willingness to play along. Eddie’s heart soars.

“I guess I can’t refute that until I read it, huh? What’s it about?” he asked, taking it from your hand.

“An envoy is visiting this frozen alien planet, and he’s trying to convince them to join this intergalactic coalition that he represents, but they’re making it like, really difficult for him. Also, gender doesn’t exist, and there’s political turmoil stemming from border disputes.”

“...oh. Cool.”

The next half-hour passes in this fashion. Your soft, mild demeanor is aglow with enthusiasm as you pull out book after book, giving him an off-the-cuff elevator pitch for each. Eddie can practically feel the cartoon hearts swirling around his head, bright pink and red bubbles that are almost certainly going to appear out of thin air and give him away.

He can’t put his finger on what it is, precisely, that’s pulling him in so deeply, drawing him towards you like a magnet with an opposite pole. Maybe it’s the tender way you talk about each book, the love and care that’s so tangible in your sweet voice, the way you speak about them as though they’re your old friends. Perhaps they are.

It’s not an unfamiliar concept to Eddie. A childhood steeped in loneliness and poverty, instability and dysfunction, neglect from his volatile and unreliable parents…yeah, he gets it. The wanting, the longing, the dire need to escape to someplace that doesn’t exist, some place where things were better and didn’t hurt, a dreamworld that would be kinder to a scrawny little boy with unwashed hair and a mean father.

The closest he ever came to it was when he lost himself between the yellowed and dog-eared pages of the few, precious books he owned.

So he listens to you chatter away with chest-aching tenderness, already thinking that he could listen to you like this for hours and be glad for it.

“You love fantasy, but you’ve never read The Last Unicorn?” 

Eddie gives you an apologetic half-shrug, no longer able to keep the goofy, besotted grin from unfurling across his face. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

“It makes me cry. You have to take it,” you tell him with pleading eyes, adding it to the top of the growing pile in his arms before he can refuse. Not that he ever would. How could he, when you look at him like that?

“You cry at this one, really?” He looks curiously at the artwork on the front, an innocent picture of the pale horned creature. “But it’s so unassuming…”

“Don’t be fooled, it’ll get you. Take it,” you repeat.

Eddie shifts the stack of books to cradle it in one arm, so he can raise the other at you in a salute. “Yes, ma’am. And when I’m finished with it, I’ll give you a full report on the emotional damage it caused me.”

This makes you giggle, lips turned up in a gorgeous smile, and Eddie knows he’s a goner.

Back at the front, you resume your previous positions at the desk. Him in front and you behind, this time separated by a short pile of books.

You hold your hand out. “Card, please, sir.” Polite and professional, but with a little sparkle in your eye that lets Eddie hope for a moment that his time with you this morning was more pleasure than business.

He fumbles with his wallet, slipping out his library card and slotting it between his index and middle fingers, extending it for you to take. His chunky silver rings catch the light.

You accept the offering. “Thank you” – you quickly read the messy signature at the bottom – “Edward.” You look back at him with a grin.

He cringes, face scrunching in embarrassment. “Oh God. Call me Eddie, please.”

The scanner gives a little chirp! as you begin the checkout process, nodding. “Will do, Eddie.” His name sounds like a song when you say it, one he never wants to stop listening to.

You finish scanning his books, and slide a receipt into the jacket of the novel on top (which just so happens to be Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love). Instead of sliding the stack towards him, you keep both hands clasped on the cover, hesitating. You bite your lip, an unconscious imitation of himself earlier. “Listen….”

Eddie straightens up a little, stomach flipping like a coin. “Yeah?”

You bow your head. “I’m sorry if I talked too much. It’s just – most people who come in don’t actually ask me for recommendations, and I got excited,” you admit quietly, looking sheepish.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says without missing a beat. “I appreciate it. I really enjoyed it, actually,” he adds, eager to quell your anxiety. “I liked talking with you.” More than you know.

“O-oh,” you stutter, taken aback. “I liked talking with you, too.”

Eddie nods, smiling slightly. “Would you like to…talk again?” He flushes scarlet and coughs. Smooth. “I just mean, when I finish these” – he motions towards the day’s finds – “we have to discuss them, right? You helped me pick ‘em out, after all.”

“Of course. You have to let me know what you think.”

His smile gets bigger. “So we’ll reconvene?”

“We’ll reconvene,” you chuckle.

“Awesome. Looking forward to it.” He sweeps up his books, and gives you a little wave. “Thanks again, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

And he can hardly wait. It looks like he’s got a lot of reading to do…

thanks for reading!!! <3 edit: this is now a series! Read Ch. 2-> Here!

[thehmn]

I’m currently listening to Maren Uthaug’s book 11% about a world where most men have died. I should probably wait until I’ve finished the book but I’m so fascinated by the world building.

As of now it’s still unclear why the men died but when the story takes place there’s a mix of older women who fucking hates men and young women who have only met drugged up men at “breeding centers” and imagine “males” as violent boogeymen but otherwise don’t really care and just want to live in the new seemingly perfect society their grandmothers fought for. The only people who still fight for men’s rights are witches who believe masculine energies are as natural and Of Nature as feminine energies, but even they sound more like animal rights activists, standing outside breeding centers with signs every Friday. Their most provocative sign is a picture of a man with Human written on it.

Christianity has been completely transformed and is now run by priests (they don’t call themselves priestess) who can only hold ceremonies when they have their periods and snakes are their most sacred symbol because they gave knowledge to Eva and God is called The Mother.

Trans men exist but are referred to as Man Women and they all seem to be sex workers who have functional silicone penises, though I’m not far enough into the story to know if they have other jobs. They generally also still have breasts because working as a wet nurse is another source of income for them. Testosterone treatments is not an option because it would make them too masculine and dangerous to be allowed into society but they all have male names and everyone use male pronouns for them.

A really fascinating aspect of the world is how people want to get rid of the old “patriarchal architecture” of straight lines and boxes but refuse to tear it down with machines, instead insisting on letting Mother Nature reclaim it. Only Rat Girls are actively trying to destroy the old buildings by releasing hoards of rats into them and planting bamboo to break up the concrete. New buildings have round shapes and are build in ways that make them blend in with cultivated nature and inside they’re painting in beautiful colors with no hard edges. They sound a lot like colorful hobbit homes. Also, locks are considered uncivilized and of a time when violent men roamed the earth and made life unsafe so nothing, from front doors to bathrooms, have locks. For a while after most men died women would go for Night Walks to relish in the fact that they no longer had to be afraid, though they liked to visit the witches at night because it felt a little spooky, which the witches thought was good fun.

The story is naturally about a middle aged witch who is hiding a young boy illegally and gets milk from one of the trans men in the red district while also sleeping with a Christian priest who struggles with her sacred job because her periods are irregular.

I’ll come back with follow up thoughts once I’ve finished it. Unlike what you might think, Maren Uthau isn’t a scary man hater. I’ve listened to most of her other books and this isn’t a recurring trope so clearly she has something to say specifically with this story and it’s rated pretty highly by both male and female readers. I think I’m in for quite the ride.

[7ndipity]

“Are You Confident?”

fwb!Jungkook x Plus Size Reader

Summary: The one where you get fed up with Jungkook’s teasing and decide to take him up on his offer.

Word Count: just under 1.7k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. oral(m. receiving), swearing, Jk starts out fuckboy-ish but turns subby, slight dom reader, reader’s referred to as Noona, not proofread

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my drafts since early December, but I finally managed to finish part one! This is sort of a prequel to this drabble, so if you can read it too if you liked this one. I’ll also be posting part two and a masterlist(hopefully)later this week, so lmk what you think!

Masterlist

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If you had to choose a favorite place in the whole world, you would choose Jungkook’s apartment without a thought. Not your own apartment, not you favorite shop, not even the dream vacation you’d been planning and saving up for forever, just being tucked into the corner of Jungkook’s couch, Bam curled up next to you, his massive head resting in your lap, subtly begging for pets as you vented to his owner about your most recent dating fiasco.

The guy one of your friends had set you up with had seemed nice enough at first, but as dinner progressed, things had progressively gone downhill.

“Did he least pay for dinner?” Jungkook asked, sprawled on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’d assume so, I walked out before the bill even came.” You replied, taking a long drink from your glass.

“Why do you even bother with dating anyway? You said before you hated it.” He asked.

“I’ve told you, I’m… lonely.” You said pointedly, avoiding his eyes.

He squinted at you, understanding suddenly flashing across his face.

“Ah, so you just need to get laid?” He asked, sitting back with a smirk as your face flushed with color. “Why didn’t you just say so? I could help you with that.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groaned, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“I’m serious.” He said, following you. “It’s better than fucking some random asshole.”

This type of conversation was a recurring thing in your friendship. Jungkook loved to tease you, and with a relationship that had grown as close as yours had, he had plenty of opportunities.

Your friends often joked that the two of you should just date already with the way you acted with each other, often toeing the line between what was typically considered okay for ‘just friends’. You’d slept in the same bed more times than you could count(a fact that had made Taehyung nearly choke on his drink when he’d found out), you’d even kissed at his friend's New Years Eve party after a few too many drinks and a similar conversation to the one you were currently having, lamenting about not having someone to kiss at midnight.

You didn’t know what had possessed you to do it, all you could remember was hearing the countdown and leaning in, connecting your lips with his for the briefest moment, only for him to quickly chase after yours when you had started to pull away.

Neither of you had brought it up afterwards, but the memory of it was permanently seared into your mind; the feel of his lips moving against yours, the way his hands had gently gripped your waist-

You shook your head, redirecting your attention back to the current moment, trying to ignore Jungkook as he leaned against the counter next to you.

“Look, if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I’m just offering a possible solution to your problem,” He said, shrugging as he grinned at you. “You know, if you’re really desperate.”

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. When's the last time you even went on a date again?”

Your words had the desired effect on him, turning his expression sour.

“That’s different, I’ve been… busy.” He said grudgingly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” You grinned triumphantly.

“I mean it though,” He said. “If that’s really all you’re after, I’d be glad to help.”

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “I mean, like you said, it’s not like I've got anything going either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, just two friends helping each other out.”

“That is, if you think you can handle me.” He added with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an irritated laugh. “Please, I could handle you.”

“Are you confident?” He asked, quirking a brow at you.

“Yes.” You answered immediately, catching both him and yourself off guard as you stared him down.

Your words weren’t entirely true, you weren’t all that confident when it came to things like this, but Jungkook had a way of triggering your stubborn streak, whether it was with that cocky smile he always threw your way or the domineering tone he like to tease you with, something about him made you suddenly brave and willing to challenge anything he said.

Normally, that was part of what made your friendship fun, the two of you constantly bickering and at odds with each other, but this was much different than arguing over where to get dinner or what to watch on tv.

You were chest to chest now, able to feel his heart pounding surprisingly fast as he stared down at you.

“Prove it.” He said, his tone having lost its teasing edge as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

That was all it took to make you break.

You closed the gap between the two of you, pushing him back against the wall as your lips clashed.

This wasn’t at all like the first time you’d kissed, there was no hesitancy or tender playfulness, it was hot and rushed and needy, full of tongue and teeth.

You were aware of a voice in the back of your head frantically screaming at you, something about how this was terrible idea and could ruin things between you and Jungkook completely, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care as his warm hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue fought with yours for dominance. He tasted sharp and sweet like the wine you had brought, his skin hot under your fingertips as your hands slipped from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands and earning a low grunt from him.

His grip on your hips tightened before sliding down to grope your ass, grinding you against the growing bulge in his pants.

A surprised squeak left you, making him chuckle against your lips as you mentally cursed yourself. You were not about to let him have the upper hand, not this quickly.

You slipped a hand down between you to palm him over his pants, squeezing just enough to cause what sounded very much like a moan to you to release from his throat, though you knew he’d tried to deny it.

Just as suddenly as you’d begun, you pulled away, making his eyes snap open in confusion.

“What are you-?” He panted, stopping in shock as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“I’m helping you out.” You said simply, undoing his belt as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, breathing unsteadily.

“I need words, Sweetie.” You said, making him flush at the petname as you fiddled with his zipper. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“I want it,” He quickly blurted, giving up control with surprising ease as he stared down at you, eyes black with need. “I-I want your mouth, please.”

“Good boy.” You tugged his jeans down, revealing the prominent tent in his boxers, a small wet patch on the material showing just how eager he was.

“These are cute.” You commented, toying with the waistband before letting it snap back against his skin, making him jump slightly. “Purple looks good on you.”

“Noona, please.” He whined in frustration, his head falling back against the wall as his hips twitched forward involuntarily.

“Fine, since you’re asking so politely.” You pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, hanging heavy in front of your face.

He was slightly bigger than you expected, the tip flushed deep red and leaking precum as you took him in your hand, making him shudder.

“Mm, should’ve known, even your cock’s pretty.” You mused, leaning in to give it a cursory lick, sucking the tip into your mouth for a moment before pulling back, leaving a few kisses along the underside of his length as you glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

He was staring down at you slack-jawed, his breaths coming out in uneven pants as you pumped him with your hand.

He already looked slightly fucked out and you’d barely done anything to him yet, giving you a massive surge of confidence as you held eye contact with him, gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth before letting it dribble down over his twitching length.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, squiming slightly.

Still holding his gaze, you took him fully into your mouth, sinking down as far as you could go.

“Fuck!” He gasped, his head falling back against the wall with a thump as you pulled back, swirling your tongue around him teasingly before sinking down again, letting him hit the back of your throat and holding him there for a moment before pulling off.

You quickly found your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down on him and using your hands on what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He let out a low whine, fists clenched so tight against his thighs his knuckles had gone white.

Noticing this, you used your free hand to guide his to your head, letting him tangle his fingers in your hair and giving him something to ground himself with.

All too soon, you felt him beginning to tense, his grip on your head tightening as his thighs started to shake.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” He whimpered. “Where do you want me to-?”

You only answer to him taking him and deeper and swallowing around him, making him cry out as his hip bucked forward, fucking your face as he chased his release.

“Shit, Y/n, I-” His words were choked off with a groan as he came, cumming down your throat in hot spurts.

He slumped back against the wall, breathing hard as you slowly pulled off of him, making a point to meet his eyes again as you swallowed.

“Shit, Y/n,” He said weakly as you stood back up. “That was-”

You cut him off with another kiss, feeling him twitch against your leg as he tasted himself on your tongue.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @ldysmfrst

[surftrips]

PINK SLIPS | CLARISSE LA RUE

pairing: clarisse la rue x female!reader

summary: clarisse keeps her distance following the capture the flag incident.

word count: 1.1k

author's note: happy valentine's day week! here is my gift to you all, part two to shapeshift 💘💘

i. you blew me a kiss in the class that she skips 

Stacy used to never show up for archery practices, but recently, she had taken to accompanying you just to sit nearby and watch.

After the Capture the Flag incident, it seemed as though Stacy was around even more than usual. You liked her, you really did, she was your girlfriend, after all… but you also liked your alone time and space.

Speaking of space, Clarisse was giving you a lot of that lately. It’s not like the two of you were ever that close, but you thought that after she saved you, she would at least acknowledge you here and there.

Instead, Clarisse had been skipping practices and camp activities, so much so that a small pile of pink slips had begun to accumulate on her bedside table. (You heard this from a friend of yours who happened to also be in Ares cabin). 

After hitting the target once again, you looked over to see Stacy blowing you a kiss. You sighed, feeling sorrowful all of a sudden. You must have looked cold, because before you knew it, your girlfriend was running up to you and draping her sweater over your arms. “Here, sweet girl,” she smiled.

You smiled back, admiring the flawless makeup on her face and the way her hair fell perfectly down her back. Stacy’s eyeliner was always colored in the lines, sharp. 

ii. you write me love letters, while she gets pink slips 

For a child of Aphrodite, it was like every day was Valentine’s Day. So when you found a love letter addressed to you on your bed in the middle of July, you didn’t blink twice. Your heart, however, did skip a beat when you read “From your secret admirer…” 

Without hesitation, you ripped the envelope open and your eyes immediately darted to the signature at the bottom. “Xoxo, Stacy.” 

Your body relaxed and the rational part of your brain took over. What were you thinking? Of course, this letter was from your girlfriend, who you liked very much. You had very strong feelings for her. She was wonderful, and perfect, and nothing like–

You wouldn’t even let yourself finish the rest of your thought. That would be entirely unfair to Stacy, who had done nothing but smother you with love and affection since the two of you started going out. 

Okay, maybe smother wasn’t the best word for it. It wasn’t Stacy’s fault that her love language just happened to be grandeur and overbearing displays of affections, right? You should be grateful that at least you had someone. 

In theory, your relationship was all perfect. 

iii. but perfect’s never been my type 

“I don’t see what the big deal is, she’s just a friend!” you exclaimed, trying to explain to your girlfriend that you were going to hang out with another camper. 

“From the Ares cabin!” Stacy rebutted. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“She’s also in that cabin.” You paused, it would appear that you weren’t the only one that had been thinking about Clarisse. 

“Okay, that’s not fair. She saved me one time during Capture the Flag, it didn’t mean anything,” you shook your head, as if to force the memory of Clarisse’s eyes scanning your body out of your mind. 

“Oh, sure. And her suddenly disappearing around camp means nothing too?”

“Are you keeping tabs on her now?” 

“She’s not good for you, Y/N. She would never be as good to you as I am.” Stacy inched closer with every word that came out of her mouth. 

“Are you though? Good to me?” Every thought of Clarisse gave you the confidence to speak your mind. 

Stacy looked hurt, like she had taken a punch to the gut. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re around, like all the time. I’m not saying I don’t like being with you, because I do, but now I can’t even hang out with my friends without you there? I need my space.”

If Stacy knew that there was something more you weren’t letting on, she didn’t show it.

“You want space? Okay, we’re done.” The next second, she was out of your cabin and running toward the forest. 

iv. i’m a sucker for the wicked  

Since the breakup, you had taken to embracing your newly reinstated alone time. Today was unusually warm, so you decided to soak in the sun by the water. After setting up your picnic blanket, now for one, you laid down and opened a book you had been meaning to start for a while. 

You didn’t get very far before a shadow cast itself over the pages, causing you to get up. “Hey, what are you—?” 

“Relax, pretty girl. It’s just me.” Clarisse smiled at you. You immediately sat back down. The two of you settled into quiet. 

You took the opportunity to admire her features. It had only been a few weeks since you were last face-to-face, but something about her had changed. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, or no– the way her eyes….

“How have you been?” She broke the silence. 

“Uh… good. And you?” 

“Not bad, I heard about the breakup.”

“Oh, thanks.” 

“I didn’t say sorry.” Clarisse grinned, but you could tell she meant it. “I never liked her very much.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” 

Now, the two of you were laughing, together for once. You felt light, free, for the first time in months. The slight breeze made Clarisse's curls over her shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

“You want an honest answer?” 

You nodded. You were tired of staring at your ceiling at night and wondering if there was ever anything between the two of you.

“After that Capture the Flag game, I realized that my feelings for you weren’t going away. But I also thought that Stacy wasn’t going away either, so I had to give you your distance. It was more for me, than anyone, I’m sorry if that was selfish.” 

“Clarisse…”

“You don’t have to say you like me back or anything, I know I’m not your type. But I don’t think I can move on without letting you know first–” 

“Clarisse,” you interrupted her. “Stop.” 

She stared at you with her brown eyes and smudged mascara. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this about Stacy, about anyone. Looking over to your side, you pluck a daisy out of the ground and carefully place it behind Clarisse’s hair. 

“I like you too, tough girl.” 

You make a mental reminder to make fun of her for blushing later, but right now, she looks perfect. You take advantage of her flustering and lean in to connect your lips with hers. 

Clarisse is fairly sure she’s made an eternal enemy out of Aphrodite now, but she couldn’t care less. She just leans in to deepen the kiss, biting at your bottom lip gently.

—

TAGLIST // @caroldrimor @ryujinraven @emlovesya @bookworm-center @vexiii-theog @alicentswhore @starssfall @m0th-creature @littlemiss-fanficlover @exactlycoralfox @abbofff @marve1stranger @b0ok-lover @phi4mars @lanad3lr3ysblog @emonopolyman @paodaca @daydreaming-in-olympus @solex-prince @quackitysdrugdealer @vfrhbcddt @frankie3974 @chvreu

[jeon-ify]

NASTY- SONG MINGI (18+)

yeah i want you to get nasty,

do that thing you know i like, no one’s watching

warnings: read and find out. 18+.

FRIDAY

“welcome in, guys! what brings you in today?” the salesman asks. mingi’s been busy with schedules, realizing that he hasn’t seen you much, nor has he gotten to do anything he really wanted to do.

today was the day he’d spoil you. you didn’t want to go out, but mingi insisted that he’d blow all his money on whatever you wanted today since ‘my money is yours.’

the first place you went to was YSL. you bought a pair of the classic YSL heel, mingi letting you swipe his card the minute you picked up the pair. he stood and watched you try on the shoe, in admiration of how well deserved you are of everything good in the world. it was his love language— gift giving.

“what do you think, baby? do my feet look weird?” you observed your foot, making sure that your gold anklet matched the shoe. you never took off that anklet, you’ve had it on since the first time you spent your birthday with mingi.

“no, baby. i think they suit you really well. makes you look so elegant, my love.” he kneels before you, holding your foot and caressing your bare and smooth calves. his dimples rise to peek at you, making your skin crawl in arousal.

“thank you. i think i’m gonna get these, then.” you put them back in the silk bag they were once in, and handed them to the salesman. you put your shoes back on, walking over to the register to swipe your boyfriend’s black card.

“baby, you really don’t have to be my sugar daddy all the time.”

“stop questioning how i show my love. plus, you deserve it, don’t you, pretty girl?” he’s holding your bags, letting you walk free-handedly around the mall.

“i do.” you continue a conversation, only to notice that you’re not getting any responses. you catch mingi staring at the lingerie store on your left side, realizing that he’s hard, too.

“baby, we have to come in here. go try some things on and call me to the back so i can see them.” he holds your hand, guiding you into the store as he steps back and waits outside for you to call.

you pick out a burgundy corset laced set with black diamonds lining the chest area, with the back exposed. attached was a knee strap that had dangling diamonds dripping down your thigh, while the other thigh was left blank. you felt so sexy, almost like if you’d called mingi back here, he’d rip it off and have to pay for it before you’d even get to decide if you like it or not. nonetheless, you finish putting on the thigh strap to complete the look, you call mingi’s phone and he comes to the 7th fitting room you chose. you chose the last and farthest room from the store, knowing how mingi is.

he slowly pulls the curtain, eyeing you up and down with his bottom lip sitting between his pearly whites. his mind runs a thousand miles an hour, feeling like he’s above the clouds and underground at the same time. he watches the way you breathe, the way your hair moves down your back when you take the deep breaths. he watches the way you stare into his eyes through the mirror, watching him slowly walk towards you and closing the curtain behind him.

“you like? i think this color suits me, don’t you think, mings?” you ask as you run your hands up your chest, admiring the way your cleavage sits in the top.

mingi doesn’t respond. you catch him staring at the diamonds down your thigh, and down to the gold anklet hugging your ankle. his eyes move up to your perked ass, then right back down to your thigh. it’s something about your thighs that mingi could never get enough of. the smoothness and the way they feel around his head when he’s devouring your pussy.

“you can’t rip this off me, yet, mingi. i like it and i wanna get it. you can fuck me later. you know i can read your mind.” you chuckle. he breathes, his hand moving to travel up your waist and up to your neck to push you onto his body. your head is thrown back onto his shoulder, watching him through the mirror as he kisses down your neck.

“but baby, you look so nasty. you look so fuckable. like i wanna cum on your face and let you squish my face with your thighs while you wear this thigh strap you have on.”

he pulls on the elastic, only to snap it onto the skin. you gasp, he squeezes your throat tighter and kisses your temple.

“get dressed, i’ll pay for this and we’re going home.” he unties the corset from the back, then kneels to unclip the strap on your thigh. you slide the corset off, taking your clothes from mingi’s hands as he steps out and pays for the set.

mingi grabs the rest of your bags and you both head out of the building as soon as you can. mingi could not wait any longer to fuck you in your new set.

•

SATURDAY

“mingi, please go make me pancakes. i’m too lazy,” you whine. you really don’t feel like doing anything at all this evening. you craved pancakes at 7:00pm, mingi being wide awake and already in the kitchen.

“you’re so lazy. but yes, i will make you some pancakes, lovey. how many do you want?” his bare back muscles flex with every move he made, his hair bouncing in its place.

“like 4. but don’t drench them in syrup.”

“fine.”

“thank you.”

as you downed your last pancake, mingi watched you get up and put your plate in the sink and wash your hands. you wore his basketball shorts and your tanktop, along with a pair of black socks. your feet were cold, as you’d just moved in and you’re having trouble with your heat.

and so was mingi.

he watched the way your ass and hips moved whenever you walked anywhere. he stared at your waist and how your long hair covered your back. he felt himself getting rock hard as he remembered the scene in the fitting room yesterday evening.

he called you over to him before you sat down across from him.

“y/n. come here.” he motioned for you to sit on his lap, not thinking about breaking eye contact with you.

“where did you put that red set we bought yesterday, hm? tell me darling, when are you gonna wear it?” he runs his pretty fingers up the back of your thighs, landing a sharp spank on your left cheek.

“well we just bought it yesterday. i’ll put it on soon.”

“i think you should go upstairs and put it on. now.”

you, without a doubt, run up the stairs and pull out the set from your closet. you slide on the strap lastly, making sure it sat in the right spot.

as you finish putting on the set, mingi walks up the stairs and into the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

“fuck, all this for me? do you understand how lucky i am? guys would be on their knees for you in a second. but i get to have you and see you like this.”

he slowly moves towards you at the edge of the bed, lifting your chin up to maintain eye contact with you while he slides his hand through your thighs.

“i would never let anyone see me the way you do, mingi. i’m all for you. i belong to you.”

you could’ve sworn you just heard him moan. you feel his breath hitch under his touch, sweat forming around his orange hairline. he leans down to kiss you, nothing but tongue and teeth. he pulls away to catch his breath as his eyes are rolled back.

“that’s right, you belong to me. now, lay back for me, ‘m gonna taste your pretty pussy. want you to squeeze my head with your pretty thighs.”

as your body reacts to his deep toned silk voice, you lay back onto the bed, feeling mingi following you, planting kisses all over your chest. he kisses on the corset with his wet lips, falling in love with your body in every lifetime.

you are mingi’s ride or die. though it sounds cliche, mingi cannot live without you. he comes home around 2am after a long day at work, and you understand him. he wishes things were different with his idol life and his personal life, but you make up for it. he loves you more than anything in his life. in fact, you may be the only thing he does love.

these thoughts cloud mingi’s brain as he admires and worships your body tonight, tears enveloping his precious eyes.

“mings, why are you crying? is something wrong?” you sit up on your elbows, your left hand caressing his cheek while he kisses your lower stomach through the burgundy fabric.

“i fucking love you. i would die for you. you don’t understand that i cannot physically live without you, baby. you’re so beautiful, i don’t know what to do.” he lifts your thighs and places them on his shoulders while he kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, kissing the insides of your legs, and to unbutton the bodysuit with his pearly white teeth.

“mingi, i love you. i love you so fucking much, i can’t imagine being with anyone else.” you moan out as he licks a stripe up your bare pussy, your thighs immediately shutting around his head as the diamonds on the strap poke his temples.

“you taste so beautiful. would rather die than never have this pussy again, my love. open up for me.”

as he continues to eat you out, he plunges his long, thick fingers into your heat and you finish all over his hand and wrist. he licks a long stripe from your pussy, gathering your cum and his drool. he brings his face closer to yours as you open your mouth. he gathered the juices in his mouth as he spit them into yours, immediately swallowing and sticking your tongue out to show him that you’ve swallowed.

“good girl. my beautiful girl. i’m gonna fuck you now, let you feel my love.” he unzips his pants, tossing them somewhere in the room. he throws his glasses onto the nightstand by your bed, then takes the rest of his clothing off, leaving nothing but his silver chain with your initial on it.

he brings his palm up to your mouth so you’d spit in his hand, then he rubs it on the base of his cock. he pushes his cock into your heat, making you immediately gasp in response, still not used to his size.

“fuck! mingi, you’re so big, i d-“ you claw at his lower stomach, clenching your thighs and scratching his hips with the black diamonds on the strap.

“baby, you’ve taken me hundreds of times, what’s changed?” he slowly pushes into you, using his question to distract you from his size ripping you open.

“i- fuck, fuck fuck! baby, oh my god—“ you cry out, mingi’s thrusts already picking up the pace. he doesn’t hesitate to thrust at his own speed, knowing that you’ve taken him hundreds of times, but you were extra sensitive today.

mingi took your wrists in his hands, using them to hold you onto his dick while he pounds into you deeper. he lifts you up as your legs wrap around his tiny waist. he feels like he’s on cloud 9, with the way you’re gripping his length.

“feel it. feel how much i fucking love you. how much i’d do for you. how much i’d lose for you.” he lets you go as you fall loosely back onto the bed. he comes down to spoil your mouth with his sloppy kisses, breathing in your moans and cries.

“mingi, i love you! i love you so fucking much, baby. you belong to me and i belong to you,” you cry out. you feel so blissful in a moment like this with mingi. its rough, its raw, its real. his love language always spoke its full dialect to you, while he showed how sorry he was for the lost time.

“do that thing i like, baby. grip my dick, make me cum.” his head is thrown back while he fiddles and tugs at your thigh strap. he feels your pussy gripping his length, unintentionally, since you’re already about to cum.

“fuck! fuck, stop, i’m gonna cum.” he gasps. you’ve already opened a gate and you do not want to close it. so, you grip onto his cock again, harder this time. he groans louder, coming down to wrap his pretty hand around your throat. he fucks into you rapidly, chasing his orgasm just as much as you chase your third one of the night.

“you’re still fucking me and you’re not using the safeword. i don’t think you want me to stop, mings.” you smirk at him, almost mocking his submissive demeanor.

“you’ll kill me one of these days, yet i feel so fucking alive with you. feels so good.” his pace comes to a halt, slowing down and twitching inside your ovaries.

“cum in me, mings. wanna feel your cum all in me.” you contract around him again. he comes down to kiss you, then sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a pop as he finishes in you.

“my god, baby. you’re fucking phenomenal. i love you.” he pulls out, plopping down on the spot beside you. you both give each other a few minutes before getting up.

a few minutes pass as mingi regains himself, he flips you over to untie the corset, letting your lungs finally breathe the air you needed. he unclips the strap on your thigh, putting it on the nightstand as keeps for the next time he wants to fuck you again. he walks over to the bathroom, soaking a towel with extra warm water to clean you up.

he turns you over and lifts your thigh to wipe the juices around your inner thighs, then plants a kiss on the cleaned area.

“the things i would do for you, my love.”

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?)

genre: enemies to lovers I guess? I'm bad at these 😭

summary: one week, your usual work partner is absent, so instead you are seated next to a genius with attitude problems. it happens.

wc: ~500

A/N: if i can manage to be consistent for once, this will probably be a series because I haven't done one in a while. pls feel free to leave your reactions in the tags or comments! happy reading 🫶🏾

next see all parts in my masterlist!

Sunlight filtered through the large classroom window. Usually, you'd be seated right by it, letting the rays warm your face in the air-conditioned room.

Not today. Your usual partner was out sick, so you were moved to the back of the classroom. Blocking out the sunshine was the silhouette of a boy you had only seen in the hallways once or twice.

He had deep brown skin, with two neat cornrows cascading down either side of his neck and brushing his shoulders. You also made out an undercut, faded cleanly beneath the braids. There was a case meant for holding glasses sitting at the front of his desk, but no spectacles sitting on his prominent nose. 

The boy was bent over his worksheet already, arm covering the page.

"Hey," you said with a pleasant upturn in your voice. A full thirty seconds passed. He didn't answer, so you try again.

"Um, excuse me-"

"I heard you." 

The boy kept his eyes on his desk, brows knitted together with focus. He was making broad, sharp strokes with his pencil. His elbow moved for a moment, revealing not a sheet of math problems, but a piece of printer paper filled with intricate geometric designs. Precise lines come together to create the form of a caped figure. It has large, mechanical claws and a mask with sharp, wide eyes.

"That's a cool drawing," you commented. The boy's shoulders jumped to his ears as if he'd been caught before dropping back down. He finally looked up from the page and paused. Wide, brown eyes flickered across your face, trying to determine what to make of you.

"Thanks," was all that the boy said before returning to his sketching. It wasn't long before you interrupted him again.

"You not gonna finish your work?"

"I'm already done, that's why Ms. Jones put me back here and let me rock."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me," you muttered to yourself. 

You messed with the sleeve of your royal blue uniform blazer in silence, weighing your options. Ms. Jones wasn't going to let you turn in another incomplete assignment, and this kid couldn't even be assed to say 'hello'. A deep sigh escapes your lips.

"Can I get your name, at least?"

The boy set his pen down with a slam, and looked up at you as if he'd just been asked what color the sky was.

"Morales," he deadpanned, with a slight roll on the 'r'. 

"Which Morales?"

"Miles."

You hummed in slight recognition, having heard the name somewhere before, murmured next to you in passing.

"You Dominican?"

"Puerto Rican."

"Oh, cool."

"M-hm." 

He picked up his pen again and began to twirl it between his pointer and middle finger, but held your gaze. You looked like you were finally about to get to the actual question.

"Well, Morales," you began with a smile.

Here it comes.

"Since you're done, can you help me with-"

"No."

You scoffed, "What's the point of being partners, then?"

Miles had already returned to his original position, scribbling away. He didn't look at you, this time.

"We not partners, ma."

...And so began the longest school week of your life.

[kokoa-la]

Prompt from @help-i-need-a-cool-username

Jason has once again snuck into Gotham University. Now, before any assumptions are made onto why the crime lord would break into a college, the reason is because he likes the library. That's it. The public library is trashed and small, barely taken care of, but Gotham U's? It's beautiful. Multiple floors, organized and in sections, taken care of, alphabetical order, it's magnificent. The chairs were a reason alone to sneak in, but the students here added an extra charm. 

He had gone to the very back of the library on the second floor. This area was  pretty well hidden and enclosed. He would come here to read without anyone questioning him, even hiding the books he wasn’t finished with yet to continue on later. Jason wasn’t expecting someone to be so close to his spot though. A few tables across stood a student, thin, tall, with pitch black hair, baggy cargo jeans, and a white t-shirt. The other hadn’t noticed him yet, so he remained quiet and just watched. He was in front of a large white board on wheels, seemingly taken from the rooms he saw down the hall. 

“That doesn’t work, goddammit.”

On the white board was lines upon lines of equations- at least he thought they were equations, with most of them being letters and symbols rather than numbers. It made the vigilante’s brain hurt. The student - assumed STEM major - just kept mumbling to himself.

“Stupid physics, won’t allow interdimensional travel”

What? Jason may have been out of school since 15, but he knew no courses were asking for the answer to traveling between dimensions. It seemed the student had a habit of talking to himself when worked up or focused, possibly why he isolated himself from the rest of the library. 

“If your parents could do it, why can’t you? Think Danny, think!”

That sentence wasn’t concerning at all, but at least Jason learned the boy’s name. Danny seemed to have a strange background, what did he mean by ‘if your parents could do it’? Had his parents managed to travel between dimensions? The other was chewing on the cap of the white board marker, his other hand resting on his hip as he swayed back and forth.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! That! The thing! That thingy!”

Jason could practically see the lightbulb go on above Danny’s head. Just then the other erased a solid portion of the whiteboard and dropped to his knees, ouch. He started frantically scribbling, fast and messy, barely cohesive. Though, Jason was sure that if it was Tim sitting where he was instead, the boy could probably understand everything on that board. He’d stick to English literature, thank you very much. 

“That’s it! Oh my ancients! I got it!”

Danny practically jumped in the air, punching the air in triumph. Jason almost felt proud of him, this complete stranger he’s been watching, wow he was being creepy, huh? Danny shot both of his arms straight up, the marker gripped tightly in his right hand fist. 

“I did it!”

He looked so happy, so excited. He began to buzz, even spinning, before stopping mid loop and turning around slowly. Shit, Jason had been caught. To be fair, Danny hadn’t exactly turned around the whole time, meaning Jason was just watching his back the whole time as he worked through his… problem? It’s such a shame, Jason was thoroughly entertained by this random kid. 

“Uhhh, hi? How long have you been there?”

Oh shit, Jason had to talk now, didn’t he?

“Not very long, but long enough to know you were trying to solve interdimensional travel before apparently succeeding.” 

The color drained from Danny’s face. Whoops?

“Uhm, no I didn’t.”

Now that he got a closer look, the student looked like someone Bruce would adopt. Black hair, clear blue eyes, tan skin, sharp features, the whole nine yards. He was actually fairly attractive, maybe even cute. 

“Really? I could have sworn that you said ‘stupid physics won’t allow interdimensional travel’”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah sure, and I’m a student here.”

“Wait, you’re not a student here?”

“That’d only be true if you were lying.”

“Well I’m not so-”

“Uh huh, sure you’re not.”

“Look dude-”

“Jason.”

“Look Jason, there’s no way that I could solve interdimensional travel, the multiverse doesn’t exist.”

“Look Danny-”

“How do you know my name?”

“I won’t tell a single soul if you explain how you did it to me”

Curiosity won his gambit. Would he regret what he was about to say? Perhaps.

“Maybe over a coffee?”

He knew it was worth it when the marker hit the floor and Danny moved his hand to cover his red face. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’s done something he regrets, maybe this time it’d be a cute STEM major who knows the secrets to the multiverse. 

[milesmolasses]

maybe e-42 miles x black fem fashion designer reader 👉🏾👈🏾 and she makes all different types of clothes like street wear and party dresses, and some girls even pay her to make their prom dresses and miles being her model for stuff.

my lil fashionista (e-42 miles x african!reader)

— I’ve added a small twist to this request I hope you don’t mind

— designer… but make it african

— this song has been on my mind all day

— ⚠️: use of the igbo language, some things may be confusing because they are written in broken african english, cursing, this one is on the longer side

in your room scattered with fabrics and sewing materials, you were on the phone with a last-minute client who wanted a prom dress done for her daughter. she was a close friend of your mothers and she called you expecting you to help her out on this last minute request, with prom only a month and a half away. but hey, if she was willing to pay double, who were you to refuse?

she was sending designs and inspo pictures, as well as different materials she wanted you to use on the dress. your mind was reeling, trying to write everything down as she spoke to you on the phone about all of the measurements of her daughter.

"ah, see the picture I sent to you now on whatsapp, that's kind of the style of dress we want for her. the long skirt one," she yelled into the phone. you could hear all the traffic from the road she was on, as well as gospel music from the speakers of her car.

"aunty have you changed the colors of the dress now?" you asked, praying she would say no as you looked at the photo she sent. you had already taken the fabrics out of your wardrobe and laid them out, so a change in colors would only stress you out more.

"no, same colors—"

just then, the woman was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. you could hear it buzz on the wood of your floor, and when you went to check on who it was, you saw it was your boyfriend miles. "ahhh leave me nah!" you groaned as you picked up the phone to decline his call.

"are you talking to me?"

"no! no no no aunty, someone called me sorry," you pleaded, not wanting to seem rude to the woman who was paying you good money to make a dress on such short notice. you haphazardly threw your phone to your bed as you focused on remembering all of the measurements she told you and writing them down.

"biko (please), what did you say her busts were?" you requested.

"ahn that one is—"

just as she was about to tell you the measurement, your phone cut off. looking at the device on your bed, you saw miles was calling you again. you sucked your teeth as you declined his call, once again. knowing miles, you placed your phone on dnd to make sure you wouldn't get any more of his calls.

you sighed as you just decided to re-take all the girls' measurements whenever she got to your house.

"am nearing your house now, can you buzz me in?" the woman on the other line asked of you.

"of course, just tell me whenever you ring," you said. the commotion and traffic you heard before were gone. "she must be close," you thought to yourself.

you threw your notebook and pen alongside your phone on your bed as you went to focus on the half-finished dress on your mannequin. it was your own prom dress that you chose to make completely on your own, choosing to go for a more cultural look this prom season. you left the needle and thread looped through the sleeve of the dress to attend to the client you had on the phone, but now you went back to the dress you were working on.

the top of the dress was a beautiful, deep, dark red corset with jewels decorating the bust of the dress going all the way up to the sleeves. a swirl pattern of shimmering vines decorated the rest of the top portion. the bottom of the dress—a beautiful maroon color that was also decorated in shimmering, floral vines— went straight down in a tight fit to accentuate all your curves. not yet added to the dress, was the matching train, which you would sew later.

you were about to make the last loop around before finishing off the first sleeve of the dress when you heard a buzz from the front of your apartment. sticking a random hole in the dress to place the needle in, you tugged your bonnet off your head and ran to the buzzer. after buzzing the woman in, you waited by your door patiently.

after a few minutes, your doorbell rang. after waiting a few seconds to make it seem like you weren't literally right next to the door, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Y/N, kedu ka ị mere? (how are you),” she asked, leaning in to hug you.

“adị m mma aunty (i'm fine aunty), I was just finishing up a dress i’m working on," you responded. you looked at the girl right next to the woman; she looked just about your age.

"Adaoma you don't greet? is this not your agemate?" she looked to her daughter who made a face of discomfort. you understood exactly what she was feeling as her mother said that, so you shook your head as you chuckled and smiled.

"it's fine aunty, come inside both of you," you affirmed as you walked backward into your apartment.

as they sat down on your couch, you turned to your kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, "do you guys want some lemona—"

you couldn't even get the sentence out as you heard your buzzer buzz again. without thinking, you walked to your door and buzzed whoever the perpetrator was in.

"ah ah, are you having visitors?"

"no, it's probably just my mom. I think she forgot her key on her way to the market," you reasoned. walking back to your kitchen, you poured two glasses of lemonade into glasses and walked back to the living room couch where your visitors stayed.

"thank you my dear," said the woman. her daughter mumbled a small "thank you" as you handed them the cool drink.

"I have the measurements written down somewhere, hold on," you said, running to your room.

as you were searching your room for the small book you kept full of measurements and designs, you heard your doorbell.

"fuck where is it?" you whispered, scolding yourself for losing it so easily. your bell rang again, and then it rang a third time.

"oh my god— I'M COMING!"

finally, after recking your room completely, you found the book on your bed right next to your phone. you were too happy to beat yourself up about how stupid you were to not check your bed first, so you ran back to the living room, placing your things on the small coffee table.

you muttered an apology to your guests as you turned to the door, unlocking it. who you expected to see was your mom frantically telling you about how she left her keys at home before going to the market. however, what you were met with instead only made you even more annoyed.

"why you not answering the phone, hm?" came a deep, calm voice from the other side of the door.

sighing, you calmly tried to collect yourself, tilting your head back and saying a small prayer to the lord up above.

"miles, please. i'm doing something right now," you pleaded. the last thing you needed was your passive-aggressive boyfriend pissing you off when you already had so much to get done.

tilting his head forward, he peeked into your apartment looking at the people sitting on your couch. when he saw that the older woman was wearing a blouse with an African print—an Ankara blouse— he knew to watch his mouth when he entered your home.

"Y/N, who is that? is it your mum?" she questioned. sighing, you opened the door wider, revealing miles standing there with his head down facing you.

"no aunty, one of my friends came to visit," you said, putting on the fakest smiles known to man.

"introduce yourself, friend—" you grunted that last part, hoping miles got the message.

"good afternoon ma'am, my name is miles," he said walking up to the lady to shake her and her daughter's hands. he gave a small smile to seem less intimidating than he usually did and straightened out his back a little.

pulling miles away from your guest, you excused the both of you, walking over to the kitchen. "are you insane just coming here like you own this place? you couldn't even bother to call me before showing up here?" you whispered, not needing anyone but miles to hear you.

"excuse me, but you're the one ignoring my calls and leaving me on delivered. I sent you like ten messages but you ain't even look at them huh?" he accused sounding annoyed with you. you thought back to when he was calling you and you ignored him completely, going as far as to put your phone on dnd.

"if you did look at my messages, you would've seen one of me telling you I'm coming over. but you obviously too busy for me," he chuckled, but ain't shit was funny to him. "my fault, lemme get out your way—"

cutting him off, you grabbed his hand under the kitchen island to make sure any lingering eyes couldn't see you. you never want him to feel like you don't have time for him, miles was everything to you.

"no, no i-i'm sorry miles, i'm just a lil stressed right now. i'm handling a lot... don't go, baby stay."

he sighed looking around the room. he was definitely mad in the moment, but he understood what you were dealing with right now at this moment. he squeezed your hand from under the island and nodded his head yes. immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug with a smile.

that was until you heard a cough coming from your living room. turning your head, you were met with the eyes of a wide-eyed woman with her hands folded on her lap, seeming very uncomfortable. almost immediately, you shoved miles away from you and turned to face the woman.

"ahem, uh, s-sorry aunty— i'll be right there," you said looking down at your feet ashamed. you turned to miles and gave a small head nod towards your bedroom, signaling him to reside in there until you were finished.

It only really took around 30 minutes for you to discuss plans on what the dress would look like, and to take the girl's measurements. she showed you her pinterest board of prom dresses she had in mind and you even helped her settle on a photo for you to refer to while making the dress. after the thirty minutes were over, you gifted them some puff puffs your mom cooked earlier that morning and bid them farewell.

sighing in exhaustion, you walked back to your bedroom ready to relax and focus on your current project, only to find your boyfriend hovering over it. he looked absolutely entranced at the sight of the dress, from the jewels sewn into the plunging neckline to the way the rest of the dress shinned whenever the sun from your window hit it just right. he'd seen you wear clothes like this to weddings and whatnot, but every time you managed to blow him away with how effortlessly gorgeous you looked in them.

"it's stunning mi reina," he said, finally turning to face you. you walked up closer to him and leaned your entire body into his, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you think so?"

"baby I know so. you don't even have the dress on and i'm blown away," he reassured to you as he held you closer to him.

looking up at him you reached up to peck his lips, that was until he moved his head back to avoid your kiss.

"what's wrong?" you questioned.

he smirked down at you as he shrugged his shoulders, "nothin', i'm just wondering when you gon' make me a nice suit to match ya dress."

— lord have mercy

— i’m like dying here

— please read lol (｀_´)ゞ