#Modern Muse

[ace-inthehole]

Tf 141 with a medic reader in which they begin making up all sorts of excuses and ailments all over the place just to be near you.

Soap is arguably the worst offender. He barges into your office just about everyday complaining about an ache here or a strain there. And every time without fail, you check him out thoroughly just to make sure. When he actually does get hurt, he milks the hell out of it. If it's something serious, he knows better than to fake it, but he will let himself be a little extra whiney.

Maybe he'll ask you to hold his hand because his wound hurts, or to sit by his bedside a little longer because he had a nightmare. Every excuse has questionable validity. Yet sure enough, you comply to just about each one. You put all your attention to care for his needs and whims, and make damn sure he'll be fine afterwards. He repays you by bothering you again the next day.

Gaz is more smooth and subtle about it, but he's just as shameless. He drops by occasionally, sometimes after a sparring session or after a mission. Tells you he's sprained a wrist or twisted an ankle. Has he? Most of the time, no. But sometimes when you check him over you find an injury he hadn't even noticed. Works out for him, another excuse to see you more often.

He comes around sometimes claiming an old injury has flared up, or maybe he's just feeling sick and under the weather. And he'll stick around even if you find nothing wrong with him, just hanging out on one of the vacant beds, enjoying your company. If he was in fact sick, he takes full advantage of it to have you take care of him. Revels in you checking up on him, giving him pain meds and ensuring he's drinking enough fluids. It makes him feel so loved and cared for, he can't help but come back for more.

Price has his pride, so he won't actively seek you out so obviously. But he does however, complain about a headache or a backache or a something or other ache just about everytime you speak. You fuss over him everytime, telling him to get more sleep and stop overworking himself. He loves hearing it, loves knowing that you care. He really does try to take your advice, he doesn't want to worry you, but this kind of lifestyle has been so deeply ingrained in him he can't shake it off.

So sometimes when he realizes he's pulled another all nighter doing paperwork, he'll drop by your office the next morning. For a little pampering, perhaps. Not because he misses you, no. He smiles to himself when you scold him and hand him some ibuprofen for his headache, quickly pushing him over to lay down on a bed. Maybe it isn't so bad to visit once in a while.

Ghost doesn't even bother to prepare any excuses. He refuses to be treated by anyone other than you if he's injured on missions. In the past he's had made a bad habit of keeping injuries to himself, he doesn't want to show that he's in pain, that he's weak. Because he couldn't afford to when he was younger. But after meeting you he's slowly falling out of that habit. For a wound he may have ignored in the past he sulks over to your office and just sits down silently on one of the beds. You ask him what's wrong, and he'll tell you exactly what happened. You don't make a big deal out of it, don't scold him for letting the wound fester, all you do is simply take care of him with the same gentle hands as always.

Of course, you'll still tell him to be more careful, and that he can come to you whenever, even if he's just got something on his mind or wants some company. It takes a long time for him to take you up on that offer, maybe months, maybe years. But he'll eventually come over every once in a while and sit with you in silence. You always ask him if he's alright, if he's injured, if he's sleeping and eating properly. The answer most of the time is yes, he's alright, no, he's not injured, and a grumble of agreement to the last question that you both know isn't true. But you don't push him, never. So he keeps coming back to you, over and over again.

[mudgazing]

[fairie-bread]

a few quick n sketchy sincaraz studies i'm too embarrassed to post on main 😵‍💫

[redxdesign]

"Cyberpunk skyline."

|| Buy me a coffee ||

[zan-the-second]

Hello DOAI Sitcom au Tumblr, may I present to you my absolutely unhinged au idea?

So, I fell back into my Pastra hyperfixation phase and I've been rotating the sitcom au in my brain for DAYS. I saw someone post about the parallel of Post-ARG Pastra and Sitcom!Alex having eldritch entities chilling in their respective houses and... I had a terrible thought.

What if I drop Pastra and Hijacker Lankmann into the DOAI Sitcom-verse?

HEAR ME OUT-

Pastra and H!Lankmann just somehow someway finding themselves in a universe just like DOAI but not quite, they couldn't exactly explain why but it feels... off. This is not the world that Pastra created, the one that Pastra knows like the back of their hand. Something in this place is shifted, misaligned to the vision it's maker had for it.

For funsies and also drama, let's say Pastra can change between their actual human form and the form of their mascot. Let's say they figured this out at a terrible time.

Let's say while wearing the skin of their avatar, Pastra gets captured by the Lankmann Foundation thinking they got the Eastridge Demon.

And H!Lankmann, lost and alone and above all else furious, finding himself at the doorstep of the person who is wearing Pastra's face, who speaks with Pastra's voice, who has that stupid, orange gremlin snarling behind them and knowing their the one person who can help him get his human back.

[namedvesta]

Benjamin Victor, “Astra” Clay for bronze (𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦).

[gladiatorcunt]

alsooo… food for thought! modern!coryo learning that you’re a virgin and what he’d be like when he gets to fuck you for the first time 😏😏

🍽️ SEND ME ASKS ABOUT CORYO, LUKE CASTELLAN, OR ANAKIN (THIS IS A THREAT)

CW: afab!reader, feminization/use of bride/reader's pussy is assigned she/her pronouns, extra extra political empire heir coriolanus snow in tears over pussy read all about it, fair amount of marriage talk, mentions of being willing to murder others & trap reader, mandatory sejanus mention, coryo puts on his person suit just for you <3, this is not the darkest point in the au but the au is "soft" dark content overall

One thing about modern!coryo is that he gives you much more grace than some of his other friends would have. (Festus is "rumored" to be carrying multiple stds and Felix's family has a whole section in their budget just for child support. Sejanus is the only one in that group that's kind of normal by comparison.) When you start dating, he can tell that you're inexperienced at least; but the green-eyed monster always on his shoulder doesn't let him fully believe that you're a virgin.

He's... patient unlike most college boys. He's horny beyond comprehension, but he doesn't latch onto you like a leech after the first date (He's so kind 😊). Sure, there's a festering need sweltering under his skin and boiling his blood, but he's no strange to playing the long game. To him, every time he fucks you is going to feel like your wedding night (Cause he's in this for MARRIAGE). You're the only one he would use the phrase "making love" with. Before you, every other whore that hung off his dick was just there because he was high on his status (and a couple other things). He apologizes about being with others before you as if he were actively cheating on you.

He'd pay to have them disappear if you wanted.

Anyway.

He finds out in a benign way; you're making out on your creaky twin bed in your dorm. (You hadn't moved in together at the time, so he had to settle for his long limbs awkwardly knocking against the wall and nightstand every time you were getting intimate.) He keeps the kiss going as he rises up on his knees and nudges you on your back. He shoots his hands out under your body to catch you just in case (and so you can't leave).

"Wait….” You say and bury your hands in his hair to try to pry his mouth off of your neck, “Coryo, stop. I need a second."

He almost pouts but he relents and moves back to hover over you. Some of his curls dangle down and tickle your face but you just scrunch your nose up like a bunny at the feeling.

His brow furrows in confusion, "What is it, baby? Are you okay?"

You squirm under his body for a moment in embarrassment until you decide to just rip the band aid off. You run your hands up his torso and over his shoulders, curling them around the nape of his neck and giving him the little head scratches he likes. His eyes flutter shut as electricity shoots up his body.

"I'm uh...... I've never done this before, ever." He barely hears it with how quietly you whisper.

He can't help teasing you in response, "Baby, you can just say that you're a virgin if that's what you are."

He chuckles when you "playfully" smack him in the chest. Coryo makes sure you can watch his gaze soften as he brings a hand up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. You've given him a gift, and Coriolanus Snow is nothing if not an avid appreciator or gifts. He leans down to rub the side of your nose with his, bringing his other hand down to press on your lower belly.

"Petal... I don't care that you're a virgin, we don't have to do anything today. I won't mind, don't worry."

He can see your brain working hard to make a decision, the cogs in your cute little head turning. You don't bite you lip for very long (which is a good thing because his dick was about to explode) before you're canting up to kiss him.

You've gotten a lot better at it overtime, and Coryo has adored every second of helping you get to that place. He's never been in love before so it's almost like you're teaching him new things too. He wonders if this is how his father felt, only having room in your heart for one person and closing it to everything else. He almost can't blame him, now that he's got you.

It was all going so well until he's wrestling your lace down your smooth legs, he's pressing tiny little pecks along your skin as your underwear travels. He doesn't quite take them off and just leaves them pooled around your ankles. The material stretches as he slides his hands up your inner thighs and spreads them.

You give him your best 'do NOT fucking rip my underwear' look but he just sends back an answering 'you know I'll buy you new ones.'

The puffy pussy that winks up at him makes him want to cry. Aphrodite could come down to earth right now and bend over right in front of him, but all he'd see is his future wife's glistening folds. He'd never really found a cunt cute before, but yours was bringing forward yet another wave of cuteness aggression. You have no hope of getting through to him once he's got his thumb hooked under your hood. He honest to God coos as he gently scrapes his thumb nail against your clit.

The giddy laugh that bubbles up when you involuntarily kick at him makes your cheeks heat up in what is unfortunately not embarrassment.

"Shit." He sniffles and wipes away an actual tear as he tilts his head to the side to get a different angle, "She's beautiful..."

It's the same tone he'll have when he says his vows.

Coryo then decides that he's tired of waiting so he tugs your panties off your ankles and uncaringly throws them somewhere on the floor. He smiles and lays down in between your legs, leaving some space in between your bodies so he could see where you two will be joined.

His curls hang in your face again as he leans down to nip at your nose, so you won't really notice when he shoves his pants down.

You can't hide how much you want to see all of him, he watches you glance down at his hard cock that slapped against his stomach as it flopped free. Despite Coryo obviously not having the biggest build in the world, the third leg he's been apparently carrying around all this time is more than enough for him (and for you). It's an angry sort of purplish red, thick and long like his fingers with a mushroom head that might as well have been calling your name.

"My eyes are up here, you know." He chides you as he gets your attention back on him by shaking his hefty cock in his balled fist, getting drops of salty pre cum on your pussy before sandwiching it between your folds.

He blissfully sighs and tosses his head back as if he were a king celebrity a long-awaited victory with a toe-curling fuck.

Essentially, he's like "fresh pussy just for me 👉👈🥺?” He's sat right at the dining table and ready to dive into his favorite three-course meal (your holes).

[fantasylandblues]

pov: you're in my modern hotd universe and you just opened your tumblr dash

based on viral textposts- part two!

[nvvrrmore]

another price drawing i never posted

what a man…

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

entomologist roach who has been applying for grants left and right to try and get money to study endangered & rare insect species around the world and museum owner soap who decides to fund him so that he can ID and collect specimens for his collections on one condition: soap travel everywhere around the world with him so that they can sightsee together

[ace-inthehole]

Just reader having Gaz as a boyfriend and never being able to say no to him.

I mean, look at that face. Can't say no to that face, can you? The prettiest man you've ever seen in your life. And the bastard is fully aware of it too, uses it to get away with everything.

He teases you all day about something stupid and runs off the moment you confront him about it. But at night when he's finally in front of you with nowhere to run, backed up against the closed door of your room, you can't say shit because he's fluttering those stupid eyelashes at you and he looks so gorgeous you suddenly aren't even mad anymore.

He wants a bite of your food? He'll give you one look and you give in despite knowing "Just one bite, lovey" could very well end up being half of your sandwich.

"Hey help me with this set, yeah?" And he definitely doesn't need your help, the weights are the same as every other workout he does alone, but you spot him anyway.

He wont even let you leave the bed in the middle of the night to pee, just holds on tight to you like a koala and mumbles something sweet like "Don't go, you're s' warm" into your chest and it's so dang cute you decide to just go in the morning. (He doesn't let you get out of bed in the morning, either.)

But it's all worth it in the end when you see that cheeky, adorable little smile of his and it makes your heart flutter and chest warm. You can't help it, can you? You just love him so damn much.

[mudgazing]

saw a tweet and immediately thought of them :3

[the-heros-sidekick]

❝ went looking for a creation myth, ended up with a pair of cracked lips. ❞

He feels it first at the back of his neck. A buzzing, like the crackling of electricity underneath his skin, reverberating against the hollow of his skull. Something is knocking, making its presence known: A particular kind of evil that had snuck into Stiles’ mind once already, stealing away control over his body. Condemning him to sit back, trapped in his own mind, rendering him powerless. Doomed to watch in horror as his  blood-stained hands wielded sharpened blades against those he loved. They’d gotten him out, though nearly at the cost of his own life—a sacrifice Stiles had been more than willing to make, so long as no one else would get hurt because of him. And yet something must have stayed behind, lodged into the membrane of his skull like a shard of glass. For the longest time he’d managed to keep the horrors contained to only haunt him in the dead of night, leaving him sleep deprived and wrung out, every nerve ending scraped thin. But now, even the light of day no longer offers refuge for Stiles to feel safe. Long gone is the once obnoxiously loud, carefree kid—left in its stead is a man carrying himself with caution, treading quietly across the space between other people’s reality and what lies beyond. He knows there are demons out there listening, waiting for an opportunity to exploit any sign of weakness—a door left slightly ajar, perhaps, much like the door to Stiles’ mind they’d never managed to close. The feeling of impending doom crescendos and Stiles, feeling sick to his stomach with fear, clings desperately to the words he repeats to himself like a mantra. "Nothing gets in unless you let it.” But the words turn to ash in his mouth, memories of past experiences proving him a liar. 

an exploration of Teen Wolf's 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐊𝐈—𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 who, after leaving Beacon Hills behind, settled down in New York where he's now considered the FBIs golden boy ― crafted for @fakevz. following canon events of the show with additional headcanons. low activity & very crossover friendly. minors dni. this blog operates in english only. est. 2014 ♗ ©

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: loss of innocence ⊹ comedic sidekick ⊹ overcoming demonic possession ⊹ a morally gray world ⊹ undying loyalty ⊹ survivor's guilt ⊹ agent of chaos ⊹ deflecting with humor

✧  𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 ✧ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒

I think I've loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity.

Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I felt this unquenchable need to know you. I blamed it on ulterior motives, justified it because I needed something from you, because you held the answers I was looking for, because no one else was able to help but you. Looking back on it now though, I'm starting to think that maybe some part of me knew right from the start, that first night I stumbled upon you in the woods, what took me years to see: Maybe my heart recognized that it was going to love you right away, and I spent the years to come catching up with what it knew right from the start. That it was always going to be you. How could it ever have been anyone else? Through mayhem and bloodshed, through fear and loss, through grief and sleepless nights, you were the one constant that remained. When I lost sight of everything—first myself, then reality, then hope—you were the one guiding my way like a beacon, or a north star. If I've ever known peace, it's in all the moments that your hand has touched mine and that your arms have held me tirelessly, putting your body like a shield between me and every inkling of danger. Of all the late-night wonderings of trying to make sense of the last decade (and failing), what remains is this singular thought: At least it was you. At least it was me. At least it was us, together. I'd bear it all a million times over if it meant I got to hold your hand at the end of it all. You are the moment of quiet at the end of a long day, you are breathless laughter, you're the patch of sunlight filtering in through the window that I stand in to warm myself. You are everything good in this world and living proof that there is hope despite it all, and I love you beyond measure.

[redxdesign]

"Neon winter."

|| Buy me a coffee ||

[pearlwithgirl]

Legato, Staccato

Ghoap x gn!reader

Fluff - 981 words

The barest hint of smut. Something soft and sweet.

The snow is coming down like falling cotton while the wind howls like a banshee, but it still doesn’t stand up to all the warmth around you.

Johnny will be meeting you outside any moment now and Simon will follow soon after. It’s hard not to spend hours perusing the carefully curated shelves of books, and a happy Si is a happy triad. There are plenty of new works from local authors, but it’s the older finds that draw him in - crinkled and delicate with intricate illuminations and richly coloured bindings. 

It’s a quaint place - warm oak and brass inside, cornflower walls with creamy white trim on the exterior. There are twin waves of built up snow curling in from the flaked paint of the window frame, swirling fractals meeting in the middle. You’d like to scratch at the tiny needles, to run your fingers through the glassy little stalactites hanging from the sill. 

You could reach out and place a warm palm on the window to feel the crystals morph and melt around your palm, put your own mark amongst them, be a part of something beautiful. You wouldn’t want to ruin it, though.

“Your mind’s wanderin’ again, hen.” He always sees right through you. You were so lost in allusion that you didn’t even hear him come out.

He scoops up a little dollop of powdery snow and blows it at you, flakes catching the wind like the wispy fluff of a dandelion. Your noise crinkles as a giggle trickles out of your upended frown. His gaze follows yours to the pattern on the window.

“Mm, pretty, isn’t it?” There’s a fondness in his voice, but it’s light. Thoughts floating like a silvery feather as opposed to your own, which carry the weight and overinflated gravitas of a lead ballerina. 

He presses a thumb into the crunchy ice until it gives way and runs down the window in a frigid rivulet. He grabs you by the hand, pulls off the mitten, and presses your thumb down to melt a little heart into the window. A golden orange light flickers and thrums through the joint fingerprints from a candle just beyond the pane.

As he turns to you, there are fluffy flakes clinging to his lashes, and his cheeks are a little rosier than before. He’s not alone in that - you feel the blood rushing to your own face as he tips your chin up, appraising you under the streetlamp’s light. 

He brushes his lips against yours, and the moment crescendos fast. It doesn’t let up, and you can feel the sizzle and pop as you heat up. His tongue meets yours and you feel lost and completely tethered all at once.

Your reverie is interrupted, but it’s welcome. Simon exits the shop as a little bell chimes above his head. Warmth floods you as he strolls closer, and you don’t know if it’s the heat escaping the building, or if it’s just *him*.

There’s a brown paper bag under his arm, folded up tight to shield new books from the blizzard. He looks at you, then at Johnny, off toward your frozen heart, and back to Johnny again. His eyes crinkle at the edges, a telltale sign that the knife-kissed edges of his mouth are quirked up under the mask. In the dim of the night, their faces are lit up like a Christmas tree. 

Simon squints at the print that’s slowly frosting over and melts it anew, splaying his whole hand out beside it. He crowds you against the worn, wooden facade and frees his mouth from behind the fabric. It’s a soft kiss, languid and warm. Comfortable. A hand creeps up beneath the wool of your coat to draw you even closer, and it’s fucking *freezing*. You stiffen and squeal into his mouth before he barks out a laugh and presses another kiss to the powdery crown of your head. He retracts his clammy hand and gives a gentle swat to your rear. 

“Time to go, sweetheart.” 

You’ll go to that cozy little nook for a pint while they prepare your takeout order. Something hearty, something sticky and saccharine for dessert. Maybe ragout and blueberry bread pudding. Extra butterscotch sauce.

You’ll lean into Johnny while Simon pays the bill, licking the last sticky drop of cider from your lips. He’ll taste the cinnamon on your tongue as he loops an arm around your waist to pull you out of the booth.

You’ll fill your belly as you sit on the floor cradled between broad, jean-clad legs, and probably get rich sauce on your sweater after being roused by some ridiculous quip. It’s not the tv that makes the viewing fun - it’s the commentary.

You’ll fall into their bed to be disarmed and disassembled, laid bare. It’ll be a sweet cacophony between the three of you, a symphony of harsh grunts, soft sighs, and wails of pleasure. A resplendent choir will resound in your head at that staggering peak. A myriad of colours will align and blind you with pure octarine and bright white light. They’ll put you back together again with a care you’d never have expected. 

You’ll fall asleep bracketed by two exhausted hunters, pomarine and polar, hunger fully satiated once more. 

How do they look so soft? 

You’ll wake up to the smell of coffee and honeyed cream, bitter and sweet. There will be bright mandarin in the air - preserves, fried eggs and briny bacon to pile onto buttered toast. One more layer of trepidation will crumble away as the morning routine dictates. 

It’s tangible - you can feel yourself falling into an easy rhythm with them. You don’t know how they do it, how they always know the right time for legato or staccato or when to break you out of the shell of a nagging thought. 

You suppose you could get used to it. 

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

Interesting thing I found was that this outfit resembles the only outfit we see her mother in and it’s in a chapter focused on trying to escape her past life/mistakes