#and his asymmetrical eyebrows..

[asvidema]

finally sat down to sketch henry of skalitz, blacksmith's son, and his lord, hans capon of pirkstein from kingdom come deliverance

[jannik056]

[olessan]

I had expected the NPCs to not be very close to their OG likenesses and am very surprised to see how on-model not only Martin, but also Lucien and Vincente look.

The main differences here appear to be:

Martin: his eyes are further apart closer to average. His eyebrows have the same overall shape despite the texture quality difference.

Lucien: slightly more obvious curve on the upper lip, and he has a more obvious beard now (similar to Martin, IMO this was the OG stubble texture being like 20px in resolution). Nose has an asymmetrical bump at the base.

Vicente: his head isn't as broad but keeps his overall silhouette, and his eyes are at less of an angle now - but they have changed colour, vampires appear to all have icy blue eyes in the remaster.

This close of a 1:1 match is likely so consistent across all the NPCs (see: the Adoring Fan and some of the wonkier ones) because Virtuos and Bethesda made new models for the character creation shape keys, and probably did not attempt to resculpt anyone to have unique faces. Most of the OG NPCs are made with the same CC that players use, and the same is true here.

LotRO is another game that recently got a character model update that worked the same way.

[corroded-hellfire]

As much as I love AYW after Reader & Eddie get together, I'm in the mood for some AYW angst. Maybe Reader does something so sweet and thoughtful for Eddie and the boys, and Eddie can't stop thinking about her, and he gets mad at himself for lusting over the babysitter. But it's not lust...it's loooooooooove.

I fear there isn’t as much angst as you would like since my default setting is fluff, but I did get him being mad at himself in there. Please enjoy 😘

Warnings: older!eddie, babysitter!reader, Eddie gets a boner

Words: 3.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Daddy? Luke’s being weirder than normal.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over the rim of his Number One Dad coffee mug. He takes one more sip of his morning brew before responding.

“Weird how?”

Ryan’s nose wrinkles up and he shakes his head. “He’s, like…twitching.”

“Twitching?” Eddie pushes his seat back from the kitchen table and rises to his feet. “What do you mean?”

Instead of explaining further, Ryan nods his head for his father to follow him down the hallway. Heaving a quiet sigh, Eddie walks towards his younger son’s room, preparing himself for anything. It’s impossible to guess what’s going on when it comes to Luke.

Eddie ducks into the room behind Ryan, taking care to step around the Hot Wheels and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures that litter the carpet. Luke lies in his bed, squirming around like a bear against the bark of a pine tree. His little face is pinched up and the yellow lion pajama shirt he’s wearing is twisted around his body, proof that the boy has been at this a while.

“Uh, whatcha doing, Luke?” Eddie’s brow furrows as he settles his hands on his hips.

“I was outside too much last night.” The four-year-old’s voice is strained as he continues his wiggling.

“What?”

Luke lifts his right arm in the air in his father’s direction. “I got all these mosquito bites! Must’ve gotten them on my back, too.”

Eddie leans in and squints at the pale skin of his son’s arm. There he sees the red spots his son is referring to, an asymmetrical trail of five or six leading up his arm until they disappear beneath the sleeve of his pajama shirt. Instantly, Eddie realizes that they aren’t mosquito bites. His hands fall from his hips and he releases a deep breath.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

Luke is too busy trying to quell the irritation to hear him, but Ryan looks up at his dad.

“What?” Ryan asks.

Instead of answering, Eddie kneels down beside Luke’s bed and presses the back of his hand against Luke’s forehead. He definitely has a fever.

“Alright buddy,” Eddie says, gently patting Luke’s shoulder. “Let’s sit you up so I can take a look at your back, okay?”

Luke nods and Eddie helps him into a seated position. The little boy twists his torso towards the wall and his dad bunches up the back of his shirt. Sure enough, his skin looks like a game of connect the dots.

“Ew!” Ryan says, looking at the irritated skin.

“What?” Luke’s head snaps in the direction of his brother.

Eddie fixes Luke’s shirt and pushes himself up to his feet again.

“They’re not mosquito bites, kiddo,” he tells him. “Looks like you’ve got the chickenpox.”

Luke’s gaze shoots from Ryan to Eddie.

“I’m a chicken?” His voice squeaks at the end of the question.

An involuntary smile grows on Eddie’s lips as he shakes his head.

“No, you’re not a chicken. It’s chickenpox. It’s when you get these red itchy bumps all over and you don’t feel well.”

Luke falls back against his pillow and his eyes move from side to side, brain clearly thinking over his father’s words.

“Is that why I feel so icky, too? And itchy?”

“Afraid so, pal.”

“Ugh.” Luke dramatically flops his head to the side, his curls bouncing against his pillow.

“Um…Daddy?”

Eddie looks at Ryan, who has gone cross-eyed, trying to look at his own cheek, where his finger is rubbing up and down.

“I feel a bump,” Ryan says.

Gently, Eddie takes Ryan’s wrist and moves his hand away from his face. Bright red, there sits a newly blooming mark.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says. “You’ve got ‘em too, buddy.”

Luke flops his head in the other direction to look at his brother.

“Copycat.”

Eddie takes a deep breath and rubs his hands over his face. Of course, this happens the week Brittany is off visiting her family. Well, Eddie isn’t sure it would be much better if she were here or if she’d just be something else Eddie would have to deal with.

“Do you have them, Daddy?” Ryan asks.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I had them when I was little. Once you’ve had the chickenpox you don’t get them again.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay…let’s see. Let me call your doctor. Wait, first, let me take your temperatures.”

Eddie mentally goes through everything he can remember about the chickenpox as he goes to fetch the thermometer, but beyond recalling that you’re not supposed to scratch the spots, he doesn’t remember much. Both boys have low-grade fevers and Eddie silently repeats the numbers to himself so he can relay them to the pediatrician over the phone. He tucks Ryan into bed and presses a kiss to his forehead before heading into the kitchen to make the call. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long and he isn’t asked to bring the kids in to get checked out. He’s told if the fevers get higher to call again, but it seems like the boys’ illness can be handled at home. The nurse is able to give him some tips to help keep the boys comfortable and Eddie jots them down on a notepad.

“Okay,” Eddie says as he hangs up the phone. He looks down at the list and taps his pen against it anxiously. “Calamine lotion. We don’t have that.”

He gently bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks. There’s no way he can run out and buy it himself. He remembers that Wayne never had chickenpox because his uncle didn’t come visit when Eddie himself was sick with them as a kid. His parents took decent care of him, he’ll give them that much credit. But now Wayne is older and Eddie isn’t going to risk getting the man sick with them now and possibly suffer complications. It’s a Sunday morning so most of his friends should be off work, but most of them have children and, as far as he knows, none of their kids have had chickenpox. He won’t risk passing the infection to any of their families. Who else could he call? One person comes to mind because she is never far from his mind.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of your voice calms Eddie. An immediate smile appears on his face as he leans back against the kitchen wall, clutching the phone to the side of his head.

“Hi there.” Eddie winces and squeezes his eyes shut. Hi there? What the hell, Munson?

“Hey, Eddie! What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Well, I’ve got two little gremlins in bed with the chickenpox.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah. Luke’s looking like a leopard right now. I think I’m going to have to tie mittens to his hands to get him to stop scratching. Ryan’s not too bad yet, but it’s only going to get worse.” Eddie sighs.

“Poor things. I remember when I had the chickenpox; I was miserable. Can I help them at all?”

Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest. He didn’t even need to ask you anything. You hear that the boys are sick and instantly want to help them. Even their own mother isn’t so willing.

“Actually, I was really hoping that you could. Britt is out of town and Wayne’s never had the chickenpox so I didn’t want to call him and ask. And Steve and Nancy’s kids haven’t had it either I don’t think, so–”

“Eddie.” You cut him off with a chuckle. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m more than happy to help however I can.”

His shoulders sag in relief. “You really are the best, you know that?”

“Oh, stop.”

He can hear the shyness creep into your tone and it only makes his smile bigger.

“What can I do?” you ask.

“I called the pediatrician and they recommended calamine lotion. We don’t have any and I can’t leave the boys alone to run out and get it.”

Keys jingle in the background on your end of the phone and Eddie swears you couldn’t be more perfect if you tried. You’re practically already out the door to help.

“Calamine lotion,” you repeat. “Got it. Is there anything else that you need?”

“No,” he tells you. “And I’ll pay you back for it when you get here.”

You scoff. “I think you’re good. I found a five-dollar bill on the ground yesterday so we’ll say this one is on the universe.”

Eddie chuckles. He wonders if you really did find the money or if you’re just trying to wiggle your way out of getting paid back. Doesn’t matter, Eddie knows he’ll find some way to repay you for this.

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, making him laugh. “I’ll be there in, like, twenty minutes, okay?”

“Take your time, sweetheart,” Eddie says, absentmindedly wrapping the phone cord around his thumb. “They’ll still be itchy when you get here.”

Almost twenty minutes later on the dot, the doorbell rings. There’s a pep in his step as Eddie makes his way over to answer. Your kids are sick. Stop feeling happy, he scolds himself. The moment he opens the door, he sighs. You grin back at him and he cocks an eyebrow.

“I don’t think calamine lotion calls for three shopping bags.”

With a shrug, you push past him and walk into the house.

“Maybe this stuff is for me,” you call over your shoulder.

Eddie closes the door behind you and shakes his head in bemusement.

“It’s not, is it?”

“Nope!” Your following giggle makes Eddie’s stomach somersault.

He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you unpack the bags onto the table. In addition to the calamine lotion, you bought four cans of chicken noodle soup, a bottle of kid’s oatmeal body wash, two pairs of mittens, two rooster plush dolls, and a children’s book with a rabbit on the cover.

Eddie shakes his head again.

“What is all this?” he asks.

“Well,” you say as you pick up a can of soup, “this is called soup. It’s got broth and noodles in it and you typically make it for people when they’re sick–”

“You’re such a damn smartass,” Eddie quips, playfully pinching your upper arm.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Oatmeal body wash helps relieve itching, so I figured they could take baths before they get the lotion put on them. That might help lower their fevers, too. Do they have fevers? I just figured since that’s common with chickenpox. And the mittens are because you threatened to tie them to their hands, so I wanted to make sure they were at least soft ones. The stuffed animals are something to give them comfort—and I just thought it was too funny to pass up letting them cuddle with a chicken. And I’m not sure what the book is about, but the rabbit looked cute so I grabbed it.”

“It is cute,” Eddie says as he picks up the purple hardcover book. “I think it’s a little below your reading level, though.”

“Now who’s the smartass?” you ask, bumping your hip against his.

Eddie chuckles and sets the book back down.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You really didn’t have to do all of this.”

You wave a dismissive hand in his direction and scoop up the body wash.

“I’m going to say hi. Wanna start a bath?” You offer him the bottle.

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie salutes and you playfully roll your eyes at him.

As Eddie leans down to plug the tub, he hears the boys’ excited greetings as you walk into their rooms.

“Hi!”

“You’re here!”

“We’re sick.”

“Is that a chicken? Is that supposed to be funny?”

“It is funny!”

Eddie smiles to himself as he starts the water. He lets two of his fingers linger in the stream to make sure it’s the right temperature. Once it’s all filled up and good to go, Eddie walks into Luke’s room, where all three of you are.

“Okay, my Patient Zeroes. Who wants to take a bath first?”

Luke looks up at his dad with the most unimpressed expression you’ve ever seen before.

“Really? We’re sick and you’re gonna make us take a bath? Don’t we feel bad enough?”

Eddie scrunches up his face and sticks his tongue out at his youngest son.

“Your favorite person here,” Eddie gestures to you, “has bought some soap for you that will help stop the itching.”

That changes Luke’s tune entirely.

“Me first!” He jumps out of bed with impressive speed for being sick and runs to the bathroom.

After Eddie has bathed both boys and slathered them in the calamine lotion, he wanders into the kitchen.

“I think this stuff stained my hands pink,” he says, staring down at his palms.

At the smell of something cooking, Eddie lifts his head up and sees you at the stove, heating up one of the cans of soup.

“At least it’s a pretty color,” you say with a shrug.

Letting his hands drop down to his sides, Eddie tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks.

“Heating up soup.” You widen your eyes as if this was obvious.

“Sweetheart.” Eddie shakes his head but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t have to do all this.”

“I’m just making soup,” you say with a giggle.

“And you bought all this stuff.”

“I just wanted—oh.” You stop stirring and slowly turn so your whole body is facing Eddie. Heat floods your face but it has nothing to do with the steam wafting up from the pot. “D-Did I overstep? I’m sorry, I just thought that… Sh-Should I go?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes widen and he takes a few hasty steps towards you. “No, no, no! Hey.” The anxiety in your eyes breaks his heart and he flounders as he tries to come up with a way to alleviate it. Gently, Eddie reaches out and pulls you into a hug. He rubs a hand up and down your back. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? That’s not what I meant. I only meant that I don’t want you to feel like you have to do any of this. You’re far too good to us, you know.”

Your body relaxes against his and you let your arms wrap around his waist. Both of you smile at each other's touch, but neither of you see because your face is practically against his shoulder.

“Well, I can’t just do nothing if I hear that the boys are sick,” you say against his Judas Priest t-shirt.

“What smells good?”

The sound of the small approaching voice has you and Eddie jumping apart as if shocked by an electric current. You adjust the hem of your shirt while Eddie clears his throat.

“I’m making soup,” you say as Luke steps into the kitchen.

The moment he steps around his father, you burst into a fit of giggles. Luke looks at you in confusion for a moment before remembering that his face is entirely covered in pink lotion. He narrows his blue eyes at you, annoyance clear on his bubble gum-shaded face. Eddie huffs a chuckle as well and gently prods his son towards the table.

“Why don’t you sit down? It’s almost ready. Ry?” Eddie calls down the hall. “You hungry?”

“Yeah!” Small footsteps grow louder and soon there is another boy who looks like he has Pepto Bismol smeared all over him. “Ooh! What kind of soup is that?” Ryan takes a seat next to his brother at the table.

“Chicken noodle,” you say.

Eddie grabs two bowls from a cabinet and hands them to you. He then grabs two spoons and sets one down in front of each of his children.

“Ugh!” Luke groans and drops his head against the back of the chair. “What’s with you and chicken today?”

Your attempt to stifle a laugh fails as you ladle equal amounts of soup into both bowls. When you turn around to serve them, you notice for the first time that both boys are wearing the mittens you bought. Another laugh bubbles up in you as you watch Ryan try and properly grasp the spoon but you bite your bottom lip to keep it inside.

Eddie’s eyes lock in on the way your teeth dig into your lip. He feels his heart rate kick up at the sight.

“Would you like some?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Eddie is shaken out of his reverie. “Do I want…? Oh! Soup. No, no thank you.”

You nod and lick a drop of soup off your thumb, sending Eddie’s mind spiraling back into the gutter. The sound of his sons loudly slurping their lunch brings him back to the present quickly.

“This is good,” Luke practically gargles out through the broth in his mouth.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Even though it’s chicken?”

“Chicken is good,” Luke responds, nodding his head. “Just not the pockets.”

“Pox,” Ryan corrects.

Their bickering amuses you as you take the now-empty pot over to the sink. You get the water running and soap up the sponge, but the slickness leads to the handle of the pot slipping out of your grip and it clangs down on the bottom of the sink. Water splashes up and smacks you across the face and chest.

“Damn,” you hiss as you back up from the sink. “Now I’m all wet.”

Eddie clenches his jaw to keep in his groan. He feels his cock stir within the confines of his jeans and as hard as he clenches his fists, it does nothing to calm himself down.

“Do you want to borrow a shirt?” How Eddie managed to speak those words with only a minimal shake in his voice, he’ll never know.

“No, I’m okay,” you reply. “It hit my face more than my shirt. Okay, let’s try this again.” You step back up to the sink.

“Um,” Eddie stutters before clearing his throat. “I’m gonna go jump in the shower real quick. A-Are you okay with Thing One and Thing Two?”

“Of course,” you say, throwing a smile over your shoulder.

Eddie nods his head and makes a quick escape to the bathroom. Once he’s behind the closed door, he drops his head against the wood and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Get your shit together, Munson,” he grumbles to himself. He forces himself over to the shower and turns the water on. “Stop being such a fucking creep. She’s a sweet girl who cares about your sons. She doesn’t deserve you perving after her like this.”

Eddie shucks off his clothing, getting more frustrated with himself by the second. The shower curtain hooks squeak against the metal bar as he yanks the plastic aside. He steps beneath the hot water and lets it wash over his body. The bar of Irish Spring soap glides along his skin as he takes his anger out on his scrubbing. When his hand reaches his semi-hard-on, Eddie slams the soap down and wraps his fingers around himself. He uses his other hand to brace himself against the shower wall in front of him as he starts to pump his length.

Every sexy scenario he’s ever had of you starts to rush through his head, but Eddie doesn’t manage to get any harder. The nail in the coffin is when he hears the boys laughing out in the hallway. Eddie drops his cock and smacks the tile next to him.

“You’re disgusting, dude,” he berates himself. “Jesus Christ, you’re a married fucking man. With two kids. And she’s in college. Can’t you be a normal human being for once?”

The slick tile causes Eddie’s hand to slip down the shower wall, so he keeps moving it down until he grabs the handle. He harshly pulls it to the right, letting the water turn icy cold. It stings and Eddie clenches his teeth as every muscle in his body tightens. But it helps diffuse his boner.

He steps out of the shower and tugs a towel off the rack. Today’s clothes aren’t dirty since he’s only been wearing them for a few hours, so he slips them back on after he dries himself off.

The hallway is quiet as Eddie comes out of the bathroom. There’s no more slurping coming from the kitchen and he doesn’t hear either of his sons’ voices. But when he stops and listens Eddie can hear your voice. He follows the sound to Ryan’s room, where he finds the three of you all crowded onto the twin-size bed. You’re in the middle with a pink polka-dotted boy on either side of you. Each of them holds their new stuffed chicken as they listen to you finish reading the book you bought for them.

Luke yawns and rests his head against your arm as you set the book down on your lap.

“Did you ever have chickenpox?” Ryan asks you.

“I did,” you say as you tuck him beneath your arm. “I woke up with them on my fifth birthday.”

“On your birthday?!” Luke exclaims.

“On my birthday,” you affirm with a nod. “It was not fun.”

Eddie leans against the door jamb and crosses his arms over his chest. The chill of water droplets falling from his hair onto his t-shirt causes goosebumps to break out along his skin. At least that’s what he tells himself it’s from.

Definitely not from seeing you cuddled up with his sons, taking care of them while they’re sick. Can’t be. Because that would mean he feels something beyond simple lust. And that can’t happen. It hasn’t happened. It won’t happen, he tells himself.

[theactofknowing]

take a shot for me

You and Jayce Talis are friends — good friends, even — and it’s no surprise for the two of you to be found drinking. You’re young, free from the shackles of true responsibility, and the bar is the perfect place to go.

What does surprise you, however it came to be, is what falls into your hands when you invite him into your apartment after a night out.

tags: smut, mutual pining, AU!modern setting but it’s not explicitly stated, sub!jayce, WHO SAID THAT(!!!), loss of virginity because HELLO JAYCE ARCANE. NOT beta read. forgive me

wc: 4.5k

Golden eyes — happy sun-yellow, warm and bubbling companionably with tipsy indulgence — meet yours.

Your gaze falters for a moment as you take him in; the unsteady lean against the bar which he tries to play off as a suave stance, the slight shine on his lips from his drink.

“You’re such a lightweight,” Jayce says, small smile curling his lips — which are only slightly asymmetrical, you’ve stared at them often enough to recognize it.

The recognition you have has been built over the past months. Two academy students; oriented together in the same lectures seats apart, till the courses increased and the distance dimmed, sat side-by-side.

Your connection had grown in the class setting, though it thrived outside of it— blooming like a flower exposed to the sun. Conversations started with work, class, then shifted into something more boisterous, entertaining, to nights in the bar more than was healthy.

“Bull,” you retort, making move to stand from your chair. You’d meant to leave ages ago, when you saw how depressing the bar life had been. It was a weekday, and you and Jayce were mixed along with divorced singles and depressed fathers. Jayce’s company, however, kept you idle.

He’s kind enough to not mention your slight sway when you rise from your seat. You pull your coat on, closing it under your chin, and he does the same.

“Take me home,” you say, joke lacing your tone, and he complies. He holds his arm out for you to grasp onto, which you gratefully take as he leads the two of you into the chilly night.

“Do we have a drinking problem?” You ask, recalling your frequency at the bar. You pull yourself closer to his side, leeching the warm heat that emulated from him as easy as breathing.

The night streets are dimmed, shrouding the intricate architecture and well-loved streets from your eyes. It meant little, not when the both of you knew the way like muscle memory. Your feet carry you easily, shuffling softly against the streets.

In the dark, you can’t see his features when he turns to look at you, making his voice more clear in the position. “Maybe you do,” he says, and you know he has a smug look on his face, one eyebrow raised — the right one, with the knick in it. Part of you wishes to see it.

You scoff, playfully swatting his padded arm as you accuse him of being beside you all those drunken nights. Youthful laughter echoes through the street, quieting down as you turn once, twice onto your street.

He departs from you, keeping an eye as you reach your apartment door. You stand there silently for a moment, contemplating, then turn towards him. You know you must look odd, fondling the doorknob and standing still like you don’t know how to open your door.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, surprising yourself with the question as you do. You aren’t sure what your intentions are; helping a friend get out of the climate, or help him take his pants off. Either would be fine.

Fortunately the weather has long turned cold, winter swirling around the corner, and the wind is the perfect explanation for the heat in your cheeks — just nipped numb and warm from the weather, nothing more.

His brows raise in surprise, like he isn’t sure either of your intent either. “Yeah, yes.”He nods quickly, taking a moment to bury his face in his coat as you turn away.

Your home is dark, quiet, with midnight-moon light painting a cool glow over the belongings within. Flicking on one light, a lamp near the couch, you move with a one-track mind.

Shucking off your coat, then hobbling over to rip your shoes off, which Jayce laughs at when you stumble, though he denies this. You ask yourself why you invited him in as you move about, though you aren’t opposed to the idea — you enjoy his company, his refreshing intelligence, the kindness he possessed to do good and share it.

You plop yourself on the couch, your lack of full sobriety existing as a slight tingle behind your eyes, giving you the kick you need. “Come hither,” you joke, motioning with your finger as you rest your head against one cushion.

Jayce has been in your home often enough to recognize where his belongings go, how you want him to kick his shoes off at the door, before moving to join you. He laughs quietly and sits down next to you, eyes swimming with subdued mirth.

It’s comfortable, sitting together and letting companionable silence come and go like the wind. Easy conversation flows between you, speaking on projects and things processed in the academy, papers to be done and stamped.

Eventually, your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background, a warm sound that reminds you of blankets and drinks together, although it means little in the moment.

Openly, you watch his lips. You wonder if they’re soft, if you can taste the drink on his breath and lick the remnants from his mouth. Typically you’d reel these thoughts in, slap a big shame sticker atop them, though you have little care in your happy state.

You begin to scoot closer, inch by inch. Jayce doesn’t notice till he does, eyebrows silently furrowed as he tries to deduce if you’ve moved closer, or if he’s had too much to drink.

You’re not quite sure what your plan is, what your means are. Distracted by the premise of your feelings, Jayce could ask you if you were an idiot, and in your otherworldly state you’d probably say yeah, sure, without processing the question.

One inch, then another, and you’re sat beside him. You can feel his legs shift beside you, always having to move, to fidget. He’s long been quiet, watching you with open curiosity and, perhaps wariness, as you gaze upon him.

Your head comes to rest upon his shoulders, and you know the angle looks good on you — coy smile pulling at your lips, long lashes fluttering around your open, speaking eyes — and he stares at you in surprise.

Slipping slowly, your hand trails up his bicep — you’re unsure what your plan is, but it feels good to exist here, here in the moment, and maybe your past self was wrong for withholding you — and settles on the curve of his chest.

There’s a clear shift in the means of his visit by now, and he’s caught on. He’s watching, waiting expectantly, seeing if this is a prank or something more, something real and curling around his heart.

Yellow eyes turned sunset-sky dark, overshadowed by the slight of his dilated pupils, watch you. There’s a question lingering in his open eyes, one of uncertainty and for the knowledge of more.

“Jayce,” you sigh, unable to articulate your want and your certainty through nothing more than a whisper. Your hands are at his chest — not quite pawing at the softness like you’d like — fingers drawing impatient lines.

A breath, two, then you will yourself to move in. You feel air pass between you, still shifting into electric sparks as your lips near one another. You can envision the curve of his lips as your lids shut, how it’ll feel licking into his mouth. Just before they do, Jayce stops you.

“I’m…” his voice is low, face pinched in a grimace. “I’ve never, I’m…”

Never… what? And oh, surprise hits you like a truck when the realization settles. Jayce Talis, a virgin? Your thoughts must show on your face because he starts to scoot away from you, shutting himself out.

Quickly, you grab his bicep. “That’s okay.” You squeeze reassuringly, hoping and praying you haven’t scared him off. Jayce was, above all else and the lust in your brain, once of your closest friends. “Seriously. And I’m fine going as fast or… or as slow as you want.”

He looks at you disbelievingly, though a hesitant smile plays on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. Shamefully, part of you revels in this. Heat licks at your groin at the thought of being the only one to see him so, to have his hands on your skin and voice in your ear.

He’s not saying no to you, he’s warning you, between the lines saying he wants you to be the first. You should take this revelation slow, have a first date and build up the promise of the good he could have. Your mouth moves before you can decide. “Let me… show you a good time?”

He nods, both of you lost for words as the gap diminishes. The ache inside you — thumping heavily in your chest and urging your hands to move, feel — burns brighter, gasoline of his lips exciting it so.

The moment your lips connect, you can’t help but sigh. The sparks you felt are burning, urging you to slip closer, to shut your eyes snd let the waves wash over you.

Jayce is enthusiastic, lips clumsily pressing against yours in a rhythm that’s hard to follow. You don’t find fault in that, not when you know you’re shaking with just as much need as he is. In the interval, where your breaths are one and your skin is hot, his need slips and he begins to follow your lead.

You push him against the couch, eyes still shut and unwilling to depart from him more than necessary. He gasps into your mouth when you settle in his lap, fists clenched painfully at his sides as he’s uncertain of what to do, how to do it.

Unrelenting, you push further into him. He loves this, it seems, as he arches in response, curling himself into the warmth and smell of you. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, memorizing the dips and curves of his body on the chance you’ll never experience this again. Ever the multitasker, your hands begin to fumble the buttons on his shirt, painstakingly slipping them free till his torso is bare to you.

Your lips separate from his, dragging a slick trail of kisses of want across his cheek, jaw, the thin skin by his ear. Oh, you know you’re doing something right when his head falls to your shoulder, pitched sigh of his gracing your ear as you suck the skin.

Flushed, the mark left behind blooms. There’s a tenseness in his shoulders as you draw back to review your work, and for a breath you worry that you’ve done something wrong. It dawns on you when you see the shift of his hips, the slight press into the seat below, that he’s resisting the urge to grind.

Heat blooms in your core when you realize he’s trying to be good, to follow your unspoken instructions to follow your lead. You take incentive and grind your clothed cunt against his tented trousers, the grind wonderfully heavy as the seam of your pants press against your clit.

His hips rut upwards sharply, surprised moan warm against your collarbones. Open-mouthed breaths pass between you, swirling in the air and suffocating in your ears, as the two of you curve together. His upwards grinds are inconsistent and fueled by his natural instinct to move, but lack of experience simmers alongside it.

You whisper Jayce’s name with a soft hand on his chest, which he takes as sign to stop. He doesn’t seem to process that his hips are still shifting an inch, like he’ll explode if he ceases his movements, but he watches you painfully expectantly.

The room is dim as you hadn’t bothered to flick on the light, though an adjacent lamp beams behind your head, haloing a soft glow around your head that blocks the light from kissing along his frame. For a moment you wish you withheld till you got to your bedroom or at least flicked on more light.

That worry passes by quickly when you take in what you can see — the soft parting of his reddened lips, the pleased furrow of his brows — he’s looking at you like you’re the lit candle in a shrouded room, like you’re the illuminated masterpiece of art in a room of lackluster beauties.

You can feel his clothed cock against your core, impatiently pressing close enough as though he could break out of his pants and yours. Grasping the back of the couch, you lean forward. You lift your hips by a few inches, punctuating your lifted dance with a hearty grind.

Curling and warming; you’d been tipsy when you entered your apartment, drink pulsing in your blood and inebriating your veins. Arousal and want for more pulsed instead, shaking your hands and holding your breath, and you weren’t sure you could live with the unresolved tension.

“How do you want me?” You ask breathlessly, though you aren’t sure he could answer. He’s been panting against your skin, wet lips dragging along the unmarred canvas. His grip on you, once shy and courteous, now hold you with such strength that he could fuck up into you however.

A whine. “My hands? Mouth? …” there’s a question that hangs in the silence. Do you want to fuck me? It asks. You swallow thickly imagining it, of him bending you over the couch or you in his lap, whispering in his ear as he whimpered in yours. He must be imagining the same because he presses into your heat, jumpy for you.

“You— well, hah,” Jayce babbles, sentence accentuated by his soft moan. You can hear the click of his throat as he swallows, voice almost hoarse as he speaks, “anywhere, anything. Just you, please.”

Your breath stutters for a moment, unsure how to respond appropriately. You lean forward and press your lips to his — sharing your unspoken want through unrelenting kisses, your shared pining in your teeth as you nip at his lip.

After a breath and slick kisses, you part from him and he lifts himself trying to chase your lips. He looks almost pained to be separated from you, the heat of your body. You shimmy down his frame, nudging his legs apart to kneel between them.

“You’re going to— you want to—?” He asks, shocked at the motion you’ve set. You give him a look, one of disbelief and certainty. He nods, understanding, more than excited to let the waves pass over him.

Your hands settle first at his knees, then slowly dance up the covered skin, fingers twirling and leaving a trail of promises as they near where he must be aching. Every drag upwards seems to hurt him with the way his muscles dramatically tense, brow pinching inch and inch further.

With you gripping his thighs for support, you lean in. You press your mouth against his groin, cheek petting the fabric as you kiss where his cock rests. He jumps like he’s been burned, then curls in towards you like he isn’t sure if he wants to run away or into the feeling.

You take a breath to look up at Jayce, though you don’t separate yourself from him. You imagine that the sensation is dimmed through all the fabric, but his mouth hangs open like you’re already sucking him off. His arm sits on the backrest, curling to press the back of his hand against his open lips.

It must be an erotic sight, you realize. Your frame, small when compared to his in this scenario, pressed against his long, long legs, like you’re trapped there. His eyes — golden sun, marigold circle around his blown pupils — won’t leave yours as you blink hazily up at him, nuzzling against his cock like you’re worshipping it, him.

Pressing your cheek against his thigh, you lift your free hand up. Your fingers dance along the seam of his pants, curling excitedly along where the button rests. One of the two layers that separates you from the heat of him, you’re glad to be rid of it.

You look up to him, silent question gracing him as your nimble digits circle the button. This is his first time — you don’t want to push him, overwhelm him, but you want him — and you can see he’s nervous in the stiffness of his frame.

“We don’t have to do anything.” You softly remind him, fingers smoothing away an invisible wrinkle in his pants. Your hands are antsy.

“No, no— Gods, please—“ he closes his eyes, legs spreading further in an invitation, “I want you.” I want you if you want me, he means.

Jayce’s hands slip to his pants before you can, pushing the button through the eyelet and hold your breath in your chest till it hurts, and you aid him the rest of the way. He moans unashamedly as the heaviest restriction on his cock is freed, leaving him nearly skin clad.

His boxers are still on, too shy and riddled with nerves to expose himself just yet. He’s watching you carefully, waiting to see your reaction as if you’d ever react negatively. You halt his worries by returning to your spot, lashes tickling your cheeks as you mouth along the clear shape of him.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Jayce whines as you suck on the covered tip of his cock. He can’t sit still while your tongue laves the precum-dampened spot on his boxers, wetting the fabric till it plastered to his cock within. His thighs are shaking next to your dipped head, like he’s fighting the urge to clamp them against your skull.

You’ve hardly done anything and he’s already falling apart. You peek up at him to the best of your ability, unwilling to pull away your mouth; his head is tipped back, only leaving his heaving chest for you to see, in and out.

Such open and honest responses have you sighing against him, focusing on the feel of him against you and the heavy pulsing in your cunt. You feel like you’re about to explode, like a bubbling kettle bursting with steam at the edges. Your lid is about to pop.

The pressure has long gone past aching, so you decide to relieve yourself with your free hand. You pop open the button on your pants with a quiet jingle, fingers slipping between your folds. You huff, warm breath wrapping around Jayce’s cock and it jumps against your skin.

There’s a sharp intake of air above you, and you open your eyes to find Jayce watching you. Your gaze meets just as the meat of your palm grinds against your clit, mouth dropping open as pleasure shoots up your spine.

You whimper his name, face shifting momentarily away as you forget what you were occupied with, and he chokes on air. His hand comes down quickly to grasp himself, breathing through the motions, like he was about to cum. “You… oh,” he whispers, starstruck. He’s getting off on this, seeing you lose yourself with his name in your mouth.

He can’t help himself, it seems, as he takes himself fully in hand and his boxers start to fall away. There’s a soft shlick sound that fills the air, wet head of his cock sliding his hands smoothly. His open-mouthed panting shows how overwhelmed he is, how one squeeze too many could have his cum painting his knuckles.

You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s imagining fucking you or painting your face. Watching him, you ache. You have to have him now, you decide as his thick hands squeeze himself indulgently.

You bat away his hand and he easily complies, nails poking under the band of his shifting boxers as you look up to him with the unspoken question. He nods enthusiastically, no longer shy and embarrassed, and lifts his hips to assist you.

He pops completely free from his boxers and exhales thankfully. You, on the same level, are incredibly thankful to be here. The tip of his cock shines with precum, twitching something fierce when you reach forward and use your still-slick hand to pull the foreskin down and expose him to the cool air.

Your hand slips, inching down the length of his shaft till your thumb rests on the sensitive circle of skin just by his sack, thumb circling softly. Jayce squirms under the pressure, though unwilling to voice his needs without your say-so or inquiry — always looking to please.

Lips trailing, you kiss up his exposed thigh, biting back a pleased smile when the muscle twitches beneath your touch. Trailing further and further up… you pass by his cock, much to his dismay.

The soft fuzz of his abdomen tickles your face where you press against him, stomach twitching beside you. As you lean more into the couch, his cock presses against your chest. He squirms, as if burdened by the uncomfortable pressure.

“Please,” Jayce says, never having been burdened by his open emotions and desires. You love that about him. He begins to murmur nearly inaudibly, “please, please, please…”

You draw back, looking inquisitively at him. You know you’re playing mean, though you can’t bring yourself to feel guilt. “Please what?”

“I want…” he swallows, thinking about how he should respond. “I want your mouth on me. Please.”

“My mouth was just on you.” You remind him, head tilted to the side.

“My— my cock.” He relents. His ears must be burning with a shocked flush, but you aren’t paying enough attention to actually check. “I want you to suck me off,” he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, “I feel like I’m about to explode.”

Laughing softly, you move to fulfill his request. The air in your living room has shifted multiple times throughout the evening — once electric and stifling, now shifting into something slower, more memorable.

Your mouth falls open and you lick up the side of his cock, lips plump around his shaft. You can tell he’s shaking from the anticipation, and you wonder how long he’ll last.

You breathe in once and then wrap your lips around the head of his cock, sucking softly as to not overwhelm him.

“Yes— oh, yes,” Jayce is loud with it, his gratitude and pleasure. He’s trying not to move too much underneath you, to let you work as you please, but he can’t resist his back from arching dramatically. You pray the neighbors don’t hear his cries. “Hah, oh…”

Bobbing slightly, you let yourself be lost to the sensation. You urge yourself to take him in further, to press your tongue against his sensitive underside as the head glides smoothly into your waiting mouth. With each slip down, you catch a whiff of him — woodsy like charcoal, mixed in with the natural scent of him that embodies him so well.

You know he’s not going to last longer when his cock twitches in your mouth, gasps of his filling your ears and traveling straight to your clit.

“Oh, you—“ he’s mewling now, unable to resist the slight curve of his hips into your mouth. His hand comes to curl in your hair, not demanding, but rather grounding himself as the world slips away. “Fuck, yes— yesyesyesyes—“

You pull your mouth up as spurts of him start to coat your tongue. He’s fighting to keep his lids open, to watch as you open yourself so readily for him. Lips parting, your tongue cradles the underside of his cock as his cum paints your tastebuds — salty, enticing you for more — and his jumping tip.

He sits still for a moment, recalibrating his sensors as you let the sense wash over you. With one final suck and kiss, which Jayce gasps and jolts with as the sensitivity burns him, you pull off him.

“That was…” Jayce wheezes, dopey smile pulling at his uneven lips. You laugh in agreement, taking in his wrecked form as you do, the sheen on his bare skin. “Holy shit. Get up here,” he leans over and pulls you up onto his lap with a strength you forgot he possessed.

He breathes against you for a moment, arching into your touch as your hands glide across his skin. If he could, you imagine he’d be purring. He pulls back from you to meet your eyes, a powerful glint in his own; the same one he possesses when he has an excellent, exciting plan.

“Can I… return the favor?” His fingers curl at your open waistband, still unbuttoned from your earlier pursuits. At the mention, your arousal floods back overwhelmingly fast, knocking your knees weak. You nod quickly, afraid words would fail you.

Your pants are gone in an instant — albeit with an awkward dance as neither of you want to separate, chests heaving and dragging together in the tight spot you’ve dug — leaving you bare at the waist down. Wet, damp, you press against his open thigh and the slight pressure has your back curling.

“Show me how,” Jayce says, unashamed and eager with a boyish giddiness.

“Take your hand… here like— uhn,” you hold his wrist in your hand, curling his longest fingers forward before his palm kisses your oversensitive clit. His chest puffs out a smidge at your moan, though you make no move to comment on this.

His fingers are stiff in your cunt as they separate your folds, curling in that ‘come hither’ motion you directed to earlier. You’re going to love teaching him, you realize, as he soaks up every lesson you grace him with, responding back as a student more enthusiastic than you.

Overwhelming gratitude falls over you in heavy bursts, trickling down your spine like a thick rainfall. Grinding softly, you lean forward and swallow his fingers in your heat.

You’re not sure if he’s trying to be subtle or doing it subconsciously, though you don’t have the energy to ponder; his cock, not hard, rubs against your leg as your whines and huffs kiss his ears.

“Gods, you’re better than I imagined.” He says against your temple as you lean forward for support, fingers curling in a mind-numbing race that leaves you unable to respond. You moan loudly at the image this paints; him, fucking his fist or his pillow, stifling his whines as he imagines you bent over, mouth open and saying his name. Jayce, Jayce.

You find yourself hurrying, grinding your clit as hard as possible till it hurts. You’ve been on the edge for ages, and now you find yourself overwhelmed by the sense of all around you. Each push of his fingers into you follows the grind of his hips, and you hope he’s imagining taking you, how the warmth of you would envelop his cock.

One proper twist has your legs buckling, clenching as deep as possible around his fingers as your hips stutter. You’re huffing in his ear and he whimpers in yours, dragging his oversensitive cock against the curve of your thigh, and oh, Jayce—

Your head falls against his shoulder. You feel as though you’ve been beaten, dragged, and wrung out— but in a good way, akin to the soreness that follows a massage.

Kissing up his neck when you find yourself, you peck at the spot you left before. He sighs happily, readjusting you in his arms.

“So,” he says, and you can feel his voice vibrate against your lips. You imagine his neck words are partnered with an excited grin, masking the uncertainty he showcased earlier, “how’d I do?”

my inbox is open! feel free to leave comments/ requests, or maybe suggestions for a part two…?

[littlelovelunette]

Hi!! I just read someone’s short little blurb and I’ve been obsessssed

can I request a best friend!sevika x reader and like everyone (including reader’s friends) thinks they’re dating because they’re soooo close to eachother

More Than Just Friends

You and your best friend Sevika were at a restaurant for your birthday. It was Sevika's treat. Of course, it was.

Your other friends were here too, it was pretty much a huge friend group.

She was that one shady senior student of the class, it was funny— nobody could really look her in the eye and say shit, but then there you and her were. Sevika was scrutinising the menu with the most judgemental face ever.

"Does she look like a college student to you?" Your friend, Priscilla, asked you.

"I'd think she were a professor if I didn't already know her since highschool." You laughed, fingers tracing the edge of the menu.

Sevika scoffed a little at that but chuckled eitherway as she looked up from the menu, "What do y'all want?"

"Steak."

"Yeah, steak sounds good."

"And to drink?"

"Whiskey!"

"Well, since it's your birthday, we should get dessert, too!" Priscilla said happily, clapping her hands together.

Instantly, a few in the group chimed in but you? You were looking for the price of steak on the menu.

Your eyes widened.

Goodness. It was expensive.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you crunched the numbers. With the steak and whiskey they were ordering...

That would be about over eight-hundred dollars. OVER eight-hundred dollars.

Not to mention, they were also discussing dessert which would be an additional charge.

"Sevika, the pri—" Sevika slapped her card down making you sigh a little. She was as reckless as ever.

"It's your birthday." Sevika said as if that was enough reason for her to pay for everyone.

The waiter came and took the finalised orders before leaving with a polite smile.

"Someone has money to burn." One of the girls spoke up with a giggle.

"She might as well be your sugar mommy now." Priscilla teased and laughed along, nudging you with her elbow.

You flushed a little, "Oh, shut it." You said and crossed your hands on your lap.

Sevika, however, didn't deny anything or react, a slow smirk spreading over her dark lips. Oh, those dark lips... Accentuated by the dimmed light of the restaurant.

It was almost a romantic setting, had there not been Priscilla and your other friends chattering loudly in the background.

You continued staring at Sevika, lost in the world of your dreams as you made out the little tooth gap she had, it was so cute. You wondered what it would be like, tracing it with your tongue, kissing those asymmetrical lips slowly in the candlelight.

Just then, Priscilla's hand on your shoulder made you break out of your trance. "You're staring." Sevika's voice rumbled, soft and deep.

"Sorry, I just zoned out." You said but Sevika saw right through you. She knew exactly what you were thinking. Because she was thinking the exact same thing.

Priscilla laughed watching the awkwardness between the both of you now, saying, "I'd think you both were dating already."

That made Sevika's ears turn slightly red but she played it cool, "Oh, yeah? Why is that?"

"Y'know, you were there for her when she had her first lesbian breakup and you know those suck ass." Priscilla said matter-of-factly, wrapping an arm around you in a friendly gesture. "And you were also there for her all throughout highschool, helped her in chemistry and you both are roomies, too!" Priscilla then looked at you. "You always carry a lighter though you don't spoke. You carry it because Sevika can't give up smoking if her life depended on it—"

Sevika snorted. "That's not true—"

"—Shut up." Priscilla continued. "And you both have ditched prom together and got the same classes even in college. Let's be real, you both would've have significant others if it weren't the fact you both like each other like that."

Another girl, Sara, also joined in the teasing and reasoning. "That's true. We all know Sevika was changing the girls she dated more than the bedsheets she slept with them on."

Sevika flushed, "Hey!—"

"Shut up." Priscilla and Sara said in unison before looking at each other and giggling.

"Okay, okay, girls, what's your point?" You asked as the food arrived. The waiter, sensing the anticipation, quickly served the table and left with a polite "Let me know if you need anything else."

"Our point is," Priscilla sighed. "Date Sevika already."

"Better yet, marry her." Sara said making the both of you (Sevika and you) sputter.

"You're dead meat." Sevika said, cheeks tinged red. You giggled a little and looked at Sevika. "Sev, maybe they do got a point."

"You think so? Or do you simply want to give your chances with me a shot?" Sevika winked making you pretend-gag.

"No, I'm serious." You said after a while of laughing. Sevika didn't say anything for a bit, taking her time to think it through before the rest of your friend group began slowly picking up their cutlery and eating.

After everyone finished eating, they slowly started getting up and saying their goodbyes until it was just you and Sevika left.

"So?" Sevika got up slowly, letting a hand out to help you up.

"So what?" You grabbed her hand and gave her a brief smile of appreciation.

"What's on your mind, pretty?" Sevika grabbed you by the waist and held you close to her own self, guiding you out of the restaurant.

"Just thinking of what Priscilla and Sara said." You said as your heels clicked through the concrete, you both walking in the breezy night.

"You seriously wanna marry me?" Sevika joked making you roll your eyes.

"Look at the bigger picture, Sev!" You squeezed her hand a little. "We would be great together. We've known each other for so long and should've given a shot at 'us' sooner!"

Sevika ruffled your hair, "Just say it, you want me to kiss you."

"This is the point when I deny everything I just said and stutter." You stopped walking as did Sevika.

The next actions didn't even feel voluntary as Sevika's hand slowly traced into your hair, lips inches apart until they weren't.

Her lips on yours felt like heaven. Your lips cold against her warm breath. As you kissed her, Sevika's tongue swiped against your bottom lip lovingly.

Your eyes slowly closed as Sevika's lips roamed over yours. As the two of you parted slowly, you could see the love in her eyes.

And you knew, this was the correct path.

[gimmethatagustd]

gang shit; knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

Pairing: Single dad Namjoon x Single parent Reader

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Genre/Trope: Kid fic, strangers to lovers, attempt at humor

Content Warning: None except Namjoon's biceps

Word Count: 1,205

A/N: Inspired by this tweet, reposted in honor of @rpwprpwprpwprw and @rkiveslibrary. Edit - not me finding the original banner by googling my fics jhfjksds

‣ Main Masterlist

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm. 

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please. 

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest. 

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip. 

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man. 

“Did she?” 

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…” 

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced. 

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually! 

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?” 

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck. 

“She’s adorable,” you say softly. 

“She’s weird as shit.” 

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs. 

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.” 

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.” 

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?” 

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids. 

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.” 

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals. 

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you. 

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.” 

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised. 

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence. 

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.” 

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are. 

“You’re the one who–” 

“HEY! NO HITTING!” 

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology. 

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager. 

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around. 

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon. 

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.” 

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye. 

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist. 

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?” 

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.” 

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

[ahhfear]

a kaladin and adolin drawing i put through the color gradient :)

[ID copied in alt text: a colored drawing of kaladin and adolin in shades of red orange and yellow. kaladin is looking fondly down at adolin who is holding his shoulder and has a wicked smirk on his face. kaladin is wearing a yellow short sleeved shirt with a asymmetrical closure and a patch on the sleeve. he has longer sleeves underneath and a heart on his forehead.adolin is wearing a more complicated v-neck patterned shirt with a white high collar shirt underneath. he has an earring and has eyebrows are two different colors.]

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Social climbers and the relationship with power: Ada's tragedy

You buddies don't dimension how much I raised my eyebrows when I saw this scene:

Ada climbing on top of a deer (a very typical symbolic representation of noble masculinity) who is trying to fiercely shake her off while she desperately clings to him with all her might...

And is THAT what makes her have a flashback of her relationship with Tamerline? Buddy, I'm putting on a hat to take it off.

Anyway, this means I have enough material to talk about Ada.

Social climbers and power

Ada is, apparently, a social climber: she longs for a social space to which she feels she is entitled, but to which she considers herself not to belong. This is something that can give us clues about her socio-economic situation in life: social climbers are extremely common in spaces such as, for example, the child of a first generation of professionals or of parents who have been able to provide better economic passages despite not belonging to social elites.

So, one thing to be clear about the way Ada relates to people in general is through this lens: the way she tries to move up socially (i.e. to power) is through her relationships with people, if she is close to a person who has power or belongs to an elite, then she is accessing these spaces. If that person does not have it, then she uses the relationship to reassert the position she wants to have.

Ada's personal tragedy is that this way of relating to the world puts her in an extremely vulnerable position with respect to her interpersonal relationships because, if they were not asymmetrical from the beginning, she makes them asymmetrical. It's as true that Ada gets into complicated relationships willingly as it is that she is a victim of people like Tamerlane. You know, the same logic of tragedies.

So let me do a little review of all the relationships Ada has had in the comic, how they go and what is the pattern they follow.

The triad of discord

There are three things that all of Ada's relationships have in common (except one, but we'll get to that): 1) She seeks to get some sort of validation from the other person. 2) She tends to push the person's boundaries, even if they were explicitly stated. 3) Even if the person has some degree of affection or sympathy for her, Ada will never be her priority over other things. Be these things other people, personal desires, etc, etc.

So let's review this a bit.

Let's start with the bastard of Thomas Tamerline. If anything their interaction during chapter 110 makes clear to us is that the guy is quite explicit with the fact that this relationship is purely sex for him (and he possibly enjoys the degree of control he exerts over her), Ada repeatedly tries to get some validation or affection from him and the guy barely complies with the bare minimum.

That he ends up murdering her indicates that, regardless of motive, he sees her as an inconvenience to his personal desires that must be gotten out of the way and, as the icing on the cake, puts the responsibility on her.

Now on to Prospero. His resemblance to Thomas is obvious enough to understand why Ada would be attracted to him and constantly seeks to touch him or be near him, no matter how much Prospero tells her that he is not interested in her. This is an attitude she has even before Annabel encourages her by saying that “Prospero is just being shy”.

Eventually it happens what it does: Prospero is fed up with her and doesn't hesitate to tell her so to her face. We can argue whether or not he's justified in being this cruel, but by the standards of this argument that's irrelevant: the important thing here is that Prospero doesn't care about Ada's feelings enough to be nicer.

Let's go now to Lenore. Ada is extremely mean to her until Lenore demonstrates that she was able to pass the maze test on her own. This is, in Ada's eyes, a demonstration of power and she, as she is wont to do, will not pass up the opportunity to get on the good side of a person who could be a potential rising star.

This is cut short by her same group, but they reconnect at the mansion trial. Since Lenore is not interested in relating on power terms (for better and for worse), here they have the opportunity to share on more equal terms on both their parts. Yes, Lenore is also doing this for personal reasons, but it doesn't take away from the merit.

Ada ends up overstepping boundaries and betraying Lenore at the end of the trial. And after she learns of her Ada's involvement in Duke's kidnapping, well, all she has to say when Pluto fills her in is says that shitty relationship is strangely appropriate.

Yes, Lenore may have come to have some degree of affection for her, but Ada is no more important than her friends and after getting into something like that, to hell with her.

With Annabel things start to get more interesting. These two have a cocktail of projection and resentment between them: Annabel is all Ada wants, so she treats her like a pretty accessory that gives her status (something that definitely oversteps Annabel's boundaries, even if she hasn't expressed them because it doesn't suit her) and, to Annabel, Ada is little more than an important piece she can take advantage of.

This take it with a grain of salt because there are some “buts.”

On Ada's side, that she seeks help from Annabel when Montresor is being a fucking psycho is an indicator that she felt, at least, protected by Annabel. But as is often the case with her, the plan Annabel is carrying out is no more important than Ada, she just lets it happen.

Twice. Under the circumstances, Annabel chooses to help Prospero over Ada.

However, Ada is not indifferent to Annabel: she is definitely furious with Montresor after what he did (In fact, this is the only scene so far where we have seen Annabel exercising any form of physical aggression)., she is uncomfortable when Prospero is mean to Ada, and there are a few small frames where she looks at her with sincere pity.

But again, that won't make Annabel prioritize her over her own plans.

Finally, we come to the most interesting relationship here.

Ada definitely cares about Morella, but that won't make constantly denigrating her a reaffirmation of the position she believes (or wants) to have: making comments like Morella's food “is poor.” Ada pecks at the boundaries with a stick, yet these things -for some reason- don't seem to bother Morella, who is able to see the good in her despite her bad attitudes. Until she stops doing it because not only participating in Duke's kidnapping, but also trying to play cool by making excuses is out of bounds even for Morella.

But an interesting thing happens here too, remember how Ada is never a priority for anyone? Well, for a moment in her relationship with Morella it looks like this is going to be different. Morella makes a feeble attempt to defend her when Montresor makes her bark and puts a shield in her face when Prospero attacks her in the mansion trial.

Unfortunately for Ada, Morella is someone too lacking in backbone and too concerned with following the rules to stand up for her when it really counts.

After Ada manifests and bursts into tears, she pushes Morella away from her with a shove.

Morella says she wants to help, but all it takes is for Poppet to remind her that she needs to get back the Merits she lost for Morella to finally give in.

The two people Ada considered her friends have left her: Annabel has chosen to help Prospero and Morella has left.

That's when Montresor enters.

And here begins the first break in Ada's toxic pattern of relationships...but not for the better.

Ada and Montresor

Oddly enough, these two are a good match...for horrible reasons. Montresor, like Ada, is a social climber who uses interpersonal relationships to get closer to power, only in a different way: where Ada sticks it to people who hold power, Montresor uses others to reassert himself in a position of power. So, Ada feeds Montresor's ego, while he can pretend to like her enough to keep Ada happy.

Because yes, Ada and Montresor's relationship fulfills most of the bad patterns in relationships that Ada usually has: she seeks validation in this relationship and Montresor definitely doesn't prioritize her (she constantly has to compete with Will for Montresor's attention, for example). But the important thing here is that, for once, Ada isn't the one constantly pecking at the other person's boundaries: it's Montresor who does it.

He pushes her around, teases her, calls her by other women's names, and it's probably only a matter of time before this starts to get worse. What's interesting is that Ada is able to get upset when this happens, unlike what we see in the flashback to her relationship with Thomas.

So there is something changing here.

Conclusion

I'm not sure where this is going to lead, but one thing is for sure: Montresor is a reflection of a toxic pattern of behavior that Ada has in her relationships and if she's starting to get uncomfortable with it, it's not just because the abyss is staring back at her, but because she's getting herself into a situation too similar to her relationship with Thomas to not know how it might end.

Add to that this:

This is the first time in the comic that Ada has had such a selfless gesture for another person. And that selfless gesture is something as big as putting herself in danger to save someone. As if all this wasn't enough, it's been to save Annabel: one of the two friends who turned their backs on her when she needed them.

I don't know if this will be the start of her character development or we should interpret it as deathflags placed over her head, but one thing is for sure: whatever is going to come out of here has quite a bit of potential.

[ghostlyshellofapuppet]

Jason Todd wouldn't care if you have blemishes or pimples, he'd still kiss your cheek and forehead. He wouldn't care if your body or face was asymmetrical, he'd still stare at you lovingly. Or if your boobs were saggy or different sizes, he'd still want a peek. He wouldn't care how big your shoe size is or if you've shaved/waxed at all. He wouldn't care if your hands were boney or chubby, he'd just like to hold them. Whether your stomach was flat or pudgy he'd still wrap his arm around your waist with a squeeze and kiss your hair all the same. Double chin, rolls, stretch marks, scars, anything, he loves it all the same. If you have smile lines Jason would make you laugh just to see them, or he'd make a silly face just to see you do one back so he can see those little lines between your eyebrows appear. He wants to hear you giggle, he wants to see you be yourself, and he wants to be there to experience you in all your moments. You're human, he's human, being human comes with wrinkles and lines and blemishes and perceived flaws in yourself but also love and acceptance from those who love you, and Jason Todd loves you endlessly.

(sometimes we all need to be reminded this but love doesn't only happen to one specific shape or image, and anyone who really loves you loves everything about you)

[petrov88]

Kathir was a handsome young man living in the bustling city of Mumbai. He had always been popular among girls, but deep down, he felt something missing - an unexplainable yearning for men that he couldn't quite put into words.One day, on a whim, Kathir decided to get a bold new haircut at a trendy salon. The stylist convinced him to try a messy, asymmetrical look with choppy layers that framed his face. As Kathir gazed at his reflection, he noticed a certain allure to this edgier version of himself.On the subway ride home, Kathir caught the eye of a pierced and tattooed man sitting across from him. Their gazes locked, and Kathir felt a jolt of electricity course through his body.

The stranger flashed a charming smile, revealing a silver stud glinting in his left eyebrow. Kathir found himself captivated by the mysterious man's rugged beauty. As the train lurched forward, the stranger stood up and approached Kathir.Hey there, cute haircut, he said, his voice low and smooth like honey. I'm Raja.Kathir's heart raced as he shook Raja's hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. Thanks... I just got it done, he replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in his stomach.Raja leaned in closer, his breath tickling Kathir's ear. You know, that style really suits you. Makes your eyes pop even more. He paused, then added, And those lips... perfect for kissing.

Kathir stumbled home in a daze, his mind reeling from the encounter with Raja. As he passed a street mirror, he froze in horror. There, reflected back at him, was a completely different person - his face now adorned with multiple piercings, each one glinting menacingly in the sunlight.Panic set in as Kathir frantically tried to wipe away the metal studs, but they remained stubbornly in place. His hands trembled as he approached the bathroom mirror, bracing himself for the worst.The image staring back was surreal yet undeniably real. Kathir's once pristine features were now marked by industrial-style piercings - a barbell through his nose, rings in his eyebrows, and even a hoop in his lower lip.

Kathir's shock turned to disbelief as he stepped inside his apartment. Everything seemed to have shifted, as if he'd entered a parallel universe. His wardrobe, once filled with crisp business attire, now held a rainbow of vibrant clothing - neon tank tops, tight jeans, and even a few skirts.In the center of the room, his tailored suit hung on a rack, but instead of its usual charcoal gray, it was a hot pink number with flashy gold buttons. Kathir's eyes widened as he picked it up, the fabric surprisingly soft against his skin.As he explored further, he discovered his dresser drawers had been raided, their contents replaced with an array of colorful accessories - chunky belts, studded chokers, and enough eyeliner to paint a small town. Even his bedding had transformed, now sporting a playful print of cartoon characters in various states of undress.

Overwhelmed, Kathir collapsed onto his newly reupholstered bed, the plush velvet enveloping him like a sensual embrace. He buried his face in the pillows, inhaling deeply, and was surprised to detect a faint scent of musk and leather.As he lay there, Kathir began to notice subtle changes within himself. His senses felt heightened, and his skin tingled with an unfamiliar heat. He became acutely aware of the piercings adorning his face, the metal cool against his flushed cheeks.Suddenly, a wave of arousal washed over him, leaving him breathless and hardening beneath his pants. Kathir's mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening to his body and his desires. He reached down to adjust himself, his fingers brushing against the growing bulge, when a knock at the door shattered the intimate moment.

Kathir groaned in frustration, not wanting to be disturbed in his state of confusion and arousal. But the persistent knocking continued, growing louder and more insistent.With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly made his way to the door, adjusting his disheveled appearance as best he could. When he opened it, he was greeted by the same pierced and tattooed man from the subway, Raja, standing in the hallway with a mischievous grin.Well, well, looks like someone's embracing their inner rebel, Raja teased, his gaze roaming over Kathir's altered appearance. I must say, the makeover suits you. Though I think we're just getting started...Before Kathir could respond, Raja slipped past him into the apartment, his presence filling the space with an electric energy.

Kathir watched in amazement as Raja sauntered into his living room, his own outfit shifting before Kathir's eyes. The tight black jeans and band tee disappeared, replaced by a snug pink button-down shirt that hugged Raja's muscular frame.The shirt was a vibrant fuchsia hue, adorned with tiny white polka dots that seemed to dance across the fabric. It was a far cry from Raja's previous attire, yet somehow, he pulled it off with effortless charm.Raja caught Kathir's gaze and smirked, clearly enjoying the effect his new look had on the flustered young man. He sauntered closer, the scent of his cologne mingling with the heady aroma of Kathir's own arousal.So, what do you think? Raja asked, spinning around to show off the shirt from every angle. Like it?

Kathir swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he took in the sight of Raja's provocative display. The pink shirt accentuated the man's broad shoulders and chiseled chest, making Kathir's pulse race with a mix of excitement and trepidation.I... uh... it looks great on you, Kathir managed to stammer, his eyes darting between Raja's face and the tantalizing expanse of skin revealed by the shirt's open collar.Raja chuckled, the sound low and husky. Glad you approve, he purred, closing the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. You know, I've always had a thing for pretty boys in pink. And you, my dear Kathir, are looking particularly delicious today.

Kathir's breath hitched as Raja's warm breath ghosted over his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He could feel the heat radiating off the other man's body, mixing with his own feverish desire.I... I don't understand what's happening to me, Kathir admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. These changes, these feelings... they're so intense, so overwhelming.Raja's hand came up to cup Kathir's cheek, his thumb stroking gently over the metal stud in his lower lip. Maybe that's because you're finally embracing your true self, he suggested, his eyes gleaming with a knowing intensity. Let go of your inhibitions, Kathir. Allow yourself to explore these newfound cravings.

Kathir's resolve crumbled under Raja's tender touch and persuasive words. With a shaky nod, he surrendered to the intoxicating sensations coursing through his veins.I want to, he breathed, his voice thick with longing. I want to experience everything, to discover who I really am.Raja's smile was triumphant as he leaned in, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to Kathir's. Then let's start with a kiss, shall we?Without waiting for a response, Raja claimed Kathir's mouth in a searing, passionate embrace. His tongue delved past Kathir's parted lips, exploring the warm depths of his mouth with confident strokes. Kathir moaned softly, melting into the kiss as his body responded eagerly to the stimulation.

[nabexis]

Been doing some studies of Viktor and made some observations about his character design that I really like, especially when compared to Jayce. It's a bit long and rambly (and I'm too tired to check if it's coherent) so it's under a cut.

Viktor's design is very A-symmetrical, a visual signal that he's from Zaun. He literally carries the design of Zaun's Asymmetrical design philosophy in his facial features, making him automatically an outsider from the symmetrical design philosophies of Piltover's attempted perfection.

A huge theme with Piltover is that they strive for perfection, while Jayce, the poster boy for Piltover has mostly symmetrical features, he's not *entirely* symmetrical (the scar on his eyebrow, his lips, his hair) but his imperfections, his looks, are downplayed in the Man of Progress imagery. His mouth is closed to hide his tooth gap, he's in 3/4 view so his eyebrow doesn't show that there's not a scar on the other side, Even his hair is slicked directly back (Jayce gets close to this in S1 A2-3 - S2A1 but in S1A1 and S2A2-3 his hair is much less symmectrical looking. The poster of him doesn't even show the way his hair lays on his head correctly.

Jayce, once he starts going through it in the canyon, stops being as symmectrical. He's scratched up, gets scars, and his hair becomes unkempt completely, even when he cleans up a bit during the final two episodes where he's seemingly had a shower and some kind of sleep, his hair is no longer perfect or symmetrical. His design embraces the asymmetry, a visual mark of Viktor's influence on him.

Jayce, as he's wandered into Viktor's commune, his outfit has become completely asymmetrical. This is where Future!Viktor's influence is strongest.

Similarly, Viktor's hair grows longer and slightly more symmetrical-looking when he becomes the Herald in the commune. While his nose doesn't get unbroken, his lips are slightly thinner, making their asymmetry less noticeable. The mole under his right eye disappears into the hexcore's corruption, losing some of that asymmetry. A result of Jayce's actions.

Then near the finale, Viktor loses almost all his Asymmetry when he becomes the Machine Herald. His puppets still show asymmetry, but they're gilded and porcelain feature are far more reminiscent of Piltover than of Zaun, and his own face splits perfectly down the middle, making him lose one of the most promenantly asymmetrical features on his face, his nose. He's transformed into the opposing design philosophy.

Similarly, Jayce's final costume plays with asymmetry more than almost all of his previous outfits (excluding the one he wears in the commune), with his paldron on one shoulder, a sleeve that's shorter on one side, and his hammer being the most asymmetrical part of his design.

IDK where I'm going with this, mostly just observations that Jayce and Viktor's visual language have influenced the other person. Something Something Zaun and Piltover's influences over the characters and where they came from, and how that influence from the other place shows on the character's designs later in the series. Viktor brings the Elitism/Perfection dichotomy from Piltover, Jayce crawls up to Future!Viktor from Zaun, living Viktor's narrative in a literal sense, which, in turn, remade him in a Zaun way over his Piltover origins.

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Gently nudges my 'they have an asymmetrical face headcanon at the fandom'

David (crooked nose & one cheekbones higher than the other)

Milo (crooked smile and his left side of his face is droopy)

Asher (vitiligo markings on the left side like his thumbnail and the right side of his smile shows more teeth)

Vincent (scar on his right eyebrow and one on his lip)

Porter (one of his pupils is bigger than the other and one of his eyebrows is a little thinner)

Lasko (lazy eye and his lips are kind of uneven)

Huxley (crooked nose and smile)

[Edit] Avior (pale purple vitiligo marks on the right half of his face and the left of his neck)

[simpxxstan]

favourite (teaser)

pairing: boss!wonwoo x model!mingyu x f.reader

genre: smut, slowburn, poly!relationship

summary: after being happily single for years, when you develop a crush, you don't know what to do. you think your closest friend (with benefits) can take your mind off things. but when you ask for his help, you certainly didn't imagine this kind of help from him.

final word count: tbd

teaser word count: 600 words

rating: NSFW 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE!!!

teaser warning: reference to sex with sub male, mention of jealousy, slight sugar daddy wonwoo, asymmetric power dynamics, the entire teaser is suggestive in line with the story itself. wonwoo and mingyu are both depicted to be bisexual in this fanfiction, it does not imply anything with regards to real life as this is just a work of fiction.

a/n: i swear my hormones made me write this. but i can't say i regret it- boss wonwoo will be the death of me. final fic will be nearly 10k words, if not slightly more. pls let me know your thoughts, i'll be waiting <3

release date: out now!

Because you have some time until your company’s jet is scheduled to depart, so you’re roaming through the duty-free stores. You’re walking out of a chocolate store when you notice Mingyu’s life-sized poster, modelling for Calvin Klein.

You smile and grab your phone to take a quick photo, before admiring the advertisement. It must be a recent shoot, because his hair is cropped short like you noticed when he last came over. His muscles look well defined in the photograph, where he’s posing shirtless with a single black tie tied loosely to his neck, and black jeans hung low on his lips. There’s a wildly sensual look in his eyes, as if begging to be taken as you pleased, and it makes you smirk. Now you have something more to tease him for, when you meet him the next time. 

“Pretty, isn’t he?” You haven’t realised when Wonwoo’s sidled up to your side, and you notice a Bulgari bag in his hands. So that’s where he’s been shopping while you were busy browsing through chocolates. Wonwoo’s eyes are fixed on the poster in front of you, an appreciative glint in his eyes. 

“Pretty indeed. For as long as I remember him.” 

Wonwoo turns to look at you, his eyebrow raised. “Are you a fan? Or a friend?” “The latter. Mingyu and I have been friends since high school.” “How interesting.” Eager to impress him, you elaborate, “I was the one who pushed him to get into modelling. Couldn’t have let looks like that slip, could I?” Wonwoo chuckles. “Indeed not. I’m sure many must thank you, including myself.” 

Wonwoo takes out a small box from the bag he’s carrying. Opening the box, you see there’s a bracelet inside. Set with at least sixty 24 carat diamonds. It makes your mouth water and your eyes shine, and you cannot help but envy his boyfriend, if he’s the one on the receiving end of such gifts. “What do you think?

You wonder if it’s too personal a question, but you’re also sure a lot of lines between professional and personal have gotten blurred over this trip. So you bravely ask him, “Is that for your boyfriend?” 

Wonwoo doesn’t show any sign of displeasure, if he feels it. His eyes still focused on Mingyu’s poster on the glowing display in front of you, he says, “Hmm. Do you think it’ll suit him?” 

Your throat goes dry. If he’s bought it for his boyfriend, why are his eyes fixed on Mingyu? But you don’t think about it. Mingyu’s looks are, after all, captivating. 

“I’m sure it will. He’s very lucky to be receiving such a pretty gift. He must be really precious to you.” You laugh lightly, trying to hide the bile of jealousy rising in your throat. 

Wonwoo puts away the gift. “He is, of course.” His eyes now shift to yours. “Any favourite of mine is bound to be the most precious to me. And worthy of the prettiest of gifts, whatever they want.” 

You fight the blush creeping into your cheeks, trying to stop your heart from racing on. This is ridiculous. Why on earth are you getting into your feels when he’s clearly thinking and talking about his lover? God, Y/N, get a grip on yourself. He’s not yours, and by the look of love and yearning on his face, he never will be. 

It’s his voice that breaks you out of your trance. “Miss Y/L/N? The jet’s arrived. Don’t wanna miss it, do we?” You can’t help but nod dumbly and walk behind him to keep pace.

[cwtchzl]

richie tozier with fucked up teeth and tooth gap, richie tozier with crooked smile, richie tozier with asymmetrical lips, richie tozier with big ass nose, richie tozier with bushy eyebrows, richie tozier with freckles all across his skin, richie tozier with long eyelashes, richie tozier with big nostrils, richie tozier with elf ears sticking out of his hair, richie tozier with chronic eyebags, richie tozier with all-time messy hair, richie tozier with scars he doesn't remember getting all over his body, richie tozier with 'too much' body hair, richie tozier with big ass hands and feet

[littlelovelunette]

"She's Insane But I Want Her."

Sevika x Gangster!Reader

Contains gambling, smoking, violence, gangster!r, not proofread.

"Rotten luck, boys."

Sevika leaned back, smug smile playing on her dark lips as smoke wafted through the air around her. A cigarillo hung from her plush, asymmetrical lips.

"That's unfair." One of Silco's henchmen dared complain.

"You always win, Sevika."

"You guys need to step up your game." Sevika retorted, "Don't be a sore loser and do me a favour—" she gestured to her drink, "—get me a refill, sweetheart."

"Ugh," he got up eitherways.

Everyone in Zaun feared Sevika, more or less. They listened to her and respected her since she was Silco's right hand and everybody seemed to be aware of the things she could do if disrespected.

Sevika saw the men return and opened her mouth to hit them with another snarky comment before challenging for a second round, but then she saw you walk in through the door.

You were pretty, sporting a red top and white pants with dark combat boots. Although, you were breathtakingly beautiful, there was something about you that just told Sevika that you were trouble.

"Sevika? You good?" One of them asked and she nodded, looking at the guy.

"I'm fine."

He craned his neck around and his eyes landed on you. He knew it; Sevika had it in for women who knew how to handle themselves and given the way you carried yourself with pride and confidence, surrounded by those men who were almsot twice your size, he didnt need to talk to Sevika to know she had it in for you.

"So, you've got the hots for her?" He asked Sevika, eyebrow raised as he took a slow sip of his alcohol.

"She's pretty, I'll admit," Sevika leaned back against the back of the couch, the furniture creaking under her weight as she placed her flesh arm over the back of it.

"Little tip," the man leaned in, "Don't go for her, she's not the stable kind."

"Not the stable kind," Sevika repeated, her voice taking an amused tone, "Enlighten me." She stared at you across the bar as she took the cards in her hands, shuffling them with ease as she readied herself for another round of poker.

"She joined a gang at seventeen and by twenty five she was already their leader. It's pretty fast considering she had a clean criminal record before she joined them and most say she's a little crazy in the head," the man paused. "Of course, 'a little' is a big understatement but you get me."

Sevika took an inhale of her cigarillo, blowing the smoke out through her nose, "Mhm." She hummed in response, distributing the cards. The gambling continued, getting more and more intense with every passing minute. But Sevika maintained her cool, although it was hard to when she saw you from her peripheral vision every now and then.

She could've ended the game if she wanted to, she had the skills for it but she didn't because she liked egging her opponents on. However, when Sevika glanced where you had been all this while and didn't see you there, she herself was surprised because she ended the game with haste, "Need a refill." She grabbed her half-filled glass and left the table.

Sevika dropped her glass on the counter, "Where'd the girl go?"

The bartender looked at her, grabbing her glass to fill it back to the brim, "Which girl?" He asked in a confused tone before the gears in his mind clicked and he snapped his fingers, "Ohhhh! Her, she's gone to the bathroom," he passed her glass back to her which she downed in one go, slamming it back onto the counter.

"Thanks." Sevika left to the bathrooms, slowly navigating through the hall. She paused when she saw you simply standing there as of waiting for Sevika all the while.

"You've been sizing me up all night." You said in a tone that didn't suggest fear, instead it suggested something along the lines of amusement and mere playfulness.

"Yeah, what about it?" Sevika walked closer to you, as if about to touch you simply to understand whether youre real or not.

"Why?" You asked, eyes narrowing as you took a step back as if her presence repulsed you. "You're hot." Sevika said blatantly, "I like women who are capable."

You laughed, the sound high-pitched and almost maniacal causing Sevika to almost flinch because it reminded her so much of her boss's daughter, Jinx, "I'm not hot, sweetheart. I torture people for a living! And if you find that arousing," you gave her a once over, "You should get yourself checked out."

"I still want you," Sevika said firmly before she walked closer to you until she had you caged against the wall with her bigger body, "Don't shoo me away already, let me buy you a drink and let's see if I can handle your fire."

You wanted to laugh at her guts. People ran away from you and parents warned their children to stay away from you yet this woman found you intriguing and was asking you out as if you were just a random beautiful girl she met at a bar.

"Oh, 'Vika," you placed your arms over her shoulders just to tease her, "You're so dumb."

"And yet, you put your hands on me," Sevika smirked, leaning closer so her breath tickled your face, "Come on, doll, you know you'd like my company, let me in a little."

Right then, Sevika felt something poke her where her stomach was, the hem of her top peeking up to reveal a little bit of the skin. The exposed part was faced with the cool metal that now pressed against her toned abdomen, a slow smirk spread over your lips like butter, "Rule number one when flirting with a gangster, check for weapons."

Sevika was mildly shocked for a few seconds, astonished simply because you caught her off-guard, "Okay, doll, I have to give you credit for that. Smart move." You grinned, a wolfish grin it was, "Just make sure you remember who you're flirting with. I'm not your rando hook-up girl," you pressed the blade harder against her stomach causing her breath to hitch.

But Sevika, oh the freak she was, she was enjoying this power play, the way you threatened her with a knife to her gut. Sevika knew this had to be true love because if you were someone else pointing a knife at her, things would've gotten real ugly.

"Okay, doll, I hear you," Sevika said, before taking a step back. "Let's try this again," she offered you her hand, "May I take you for a drink, m'lady?"

You cackled, a moment of pure, unfiltered joy before you placed your manicured hand into hers. "Sure," you let her lead you out of the bathroom.

Sevika ordered drinks for you on her tab before she guided you to the table she was at, "Oh look, Sevika got herself a new plaything for this weekend," one of them, apparently too drunken to take notice of the woman on her arm, said with a snort.

"Cut it out." Sevika said sternly, placing you delicately on her lap. Her thighs were big, a comfortable seat for you as you leaned back against her metal arm.

"Cut what out? The liver? Kidney? Throat?" You asked curiously, looking at Sevika with your rounded innocent gaze. Sevika had a completely different expression on her face, however. She looked horrified you'd suggest that, well, the expression lasted perhaps a second or two then she smirked.

"You're violent," she stated calmly, flesh fingers running through your hair, "I wonder what you've seen to shape you that way."

"Sevika, you're really warming upto the freak—"

"She's not a freak." Sevika glared at the men as if she'd gut them if they uttered another word so they shut up for their own well-being. Sevika pressed a kiss to your head, "Maybe you're just misunderstood, little bird."

You didn't want to feel the way your heart fluttered. Just a bit at her words but you tried to turn it away. She was just sweet-talking you. Everyone did that when it was easy for them and when push came to shove... They left. You didn't want to believe Sevika.

But maybe.

Just maybe.

You trusted her enough. Not to wear your heart on your sleeve. But just so you'd lean in close when people warned against your insanity again. Because you knew, she'd always come to defend.