#all museums need this masterpiece in it

[luciddownloading]

Astrology Observations: Taurus Edition 🐂

🌷 Taurus Suns, Taurus Moons and Taurus Risings all specialize in the realm of the senses, the physical and aesthetic plane, but they do it differently from one another

Taurus Sun is the gardener. It's a pursuit that requires patience, persistence, and that unfolds slowly. These people know how to plant a metaphorical seed, water it, and allow it to grow. They are usually excellent manifestors, even though a) they may not actually see it as manifestation, just a steadfast desire to create the life they want and b) their manifestations may take especially long to materialize. But, like a gardener, it is only a matter of time until they have the most luscious plants and beautiful flowers. Taurus Suns are destined for material abundance. It's their birthright! (And if this is your Sun sign, you should actually get into growing plants or flowers. It would be really great for you!)

Taurus Moon is the chef. They can take a lot of ingredients and combine them to make something delicious and comforting. People with this Moon sign are often excellent in the kitchen. If not, they're huge foodies and the way to their heart is through their stomach. They also seem to have an instinct for what needs to be added into a situation. It's like their special secret ingredient but others will come to recognize it with time. It may be their humor, their stable energy, their warmth, or their level-headed ways. But, it's some sort of trait they have that nourishes and comforts others. Taurus Moon people are typically nurturing or supportive but not in such an emotional way. When they ask "what do you need?", they mean physical things. It could be a hug, advice, their quality time or money (many of them are pretty financially generous)

Taurus Rising is the artist. They see beauty all around them and want to replicate that into some form. Many of them will actually be very artistic. They could have a lovely singing voice. But, in many cases, their form of art will be more physical than emotionally expressive, as in drawings, paintings, photography, possibly even sculpture or pottery. Visual art. They themselves are walking visual art. Much like their sister placement, Libra Rising, they are either very physically attractive or they have a really lovely aura that makes them very attractive, even if they're not conventionally good-looking. They will also put time and effort into their appearance but it's low key. Like a masterpiece in a museum, they draw you in quietly, slowly yet undeniably.

🌷 Venus in Taurus people tend to be very vain and enamored with themselves, especially women or people with a lot of feminine energy. But, they also need to make sure they are very secure in themselves, too. If not, they could become very jealous or territorial. Whatever they believe is "theirs", whether it's attention or a partner or career status, when they're being low-vibrational, they will feel very easily threatened or overly possessive. However, when they are secure in themselves, they possess amazing self-love and can really pour into other people unselfishly.

🌷 Taurus people, especially those with their Sun or Moon or Rising in this sign, do have terrible tempers. They tend to have a long fuse and they are calm or chill most of the time. But, when they are properly provoked, they are capable of going off in a way that brings down the house. It's like a storm, like they are channeling Mother Nature herself, and they can go dark or even get violent. But, they are aware of this and try to restrain this part of themselves

🌷 Mars in Taurus men are traditionally masculine in relationships. They are usually not "macho" in an obnoxious way. But, they have a very solid, protective, reliable energy with a mate. They have provider energy, especially since they really prioritize their financial security. Yet, because of this, they tend to prefer a mate who will play a more conventionally feminine role. No matter their sexual orientation, they are more drawn to a partner who will either be a "housewife" type or a very doting spouse

🌷 Taurus Risings very often get "thick" as they get older. It's not looked at as weight gain in a negative way because they seem to put on weight in all the right ways/places. So, people may prefer them when they are a little meatier (and they may also like themselves better this way). But, they are just as beautiful in their "skinny era"

🌷 Mercury in Taurus individuals just like simple conversation. They really find pleasure in talking, even if they're not necessarily talkative or talking about much of importance. So, they can make what would normally be a boring subject or tedious social setting really enjoyable. They are super-easy to talk to and love to laugh

🌷 There is just something SO elegant about famous actors with their Sun in Taurus: Cate Blanchett, Daniel Day Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer, George Clooney, to name a few. They just come off as incredibly classy and respectable, like they're of a distinguished breed, which shows the innate elegance that Taurus Suns are capable of.

🌷 People with Taurus placements can simultaneously be very connected to their intuitive/psychic abilities but very unaware of them. Taurus is the opposite sign of Scorpio, an overwhelmingly psychic energy. Taurus can have super-heightened senses and, therefore, easily develop clairaudience, clairvoyance, claircognizance or clairsentience. After all, those abilities are just ways of harnessing psychic energy through the senses. But, because Taurus is more focused on what is tangible or provable, they may be oblivious to their psychic abilities or highly uneasy with them (unless they have a strong Water influence)

🌷 Taurus Moons can potentially be just as codependent with their mother figure as Cancer Moons can be, especially if they have harsh aspects to their Moon. In toxic cases, the mother or child may be too financially reliant on the other. Or, less dramatically, it can just be a case of feeling like your stability or peace depends on your mother's input. When Taurus Moons remember that their sense of security must come from within, the relationship will become healthier

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#astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations #taurus #taurus placements #taurus stellium #taurus sun #sun in taurus #taurus energy #taurus moon #moon in taurus #taurus rising #taurus ascendant #mercury in taurus #venus in taurus #mars in taurus

[mx-jinxous]

He was in love with a dead man.

Steve found it ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. When he was forced to find a job after his parents disowned him, the museum was the last place he’d expected to fall in love. The museum gift shop had gladly taken him in as a thank you for his family’s namesake, though Steve didn’t try to pretend interested in the way. He took the job offer, anything to pay the bills.

His current living arrangement was his car until he could save enough money back to get an apartment. Sadly with his car payment and insurance, it hardly left anything to put back, not enough to pay his phone bill for the last few months. Most days it was a toss-up for gas or food, which was going to be a harder decision with the approaching winter. Since he had to drop out of college he’d been left sneaking into the community pool to even get a shower, but soon he’d have to find other options. They started to dwindle as his friends, or rather the people who acted as such, distanced themselves when he was kicked out. He came from money and that’s all that anyone ever wanted.

His first idea was to befriend or date, but he couldn’t use them as people did to him. So he asked for more work, playing it off as expanding his knowledge and role. This led him to partner with the elderly security, who was fondly nicknamed Grey, until they could get him a trainee. Steve happily accepted it. The old man was a storyteller, even his lectures were entertaining as he drifted into stories of his kids. He often let him wander around, and that’s how he found the newest addition to the royalty wing.

They had discovered an underground burial vault, hidden beneath the remains of a castle converted into a long abandoned church. It was above Steve’s pay grade how they ever managed to acquire permission to excavate the vault. One night on his explorations the young man found the exhibit and the statue of King Kas. He ruled in the 1200 c.e., a just ruler in a conflicted era. Sadly, he existed during a blip in history, and few records have been found of his rule.

Still, the statue was handsome and mesmerizing. It was carved from marble and well cared for regardless of facing time. Surprisingly for a cold material, the eyes were warm, inviting even. It’s what kept Steve returning, making him fall. Grey had found him sometimes just talking to Kas about his problems when he came to let him out for the night. He was kind enough to offer an invite to his home whenever he needed, fatherly. He’s what he’d wished his parents were like, he cared for a boy he didn’t even know and even fed him when he didn’t have food. It was nice but also painful.

Steve spent every shift studying the statue. The king was adorned in jewelry; rings, a crown, necklaces, armlets, and bracelets filled with gemstones worth more than Steve’s parents. It only enhanced the beauty of the masterpiece, but it was truly the eyes that pulled him in. Maybe it was the dry spell in his current living situation, but he wanted to reach out and hold his face in his hands. His body was doing that on its own accord, his fingers nearly brushing its cheek when the hallway door was thrown open. Steve responded immediately, hiding behind the nearest pillar. His mind caught up with him once he was out of sight, that he and Grey were the only ones this late, still didn’t want to be caught with his hand on the exhibit.

Taking a calming breath, he stepped out and was going to give him a hard time about the scare. However, he froze when he heard more than one voice, harsh whispers echoing in the unoccupied room. Steve pressed up against the pillar, trying to be silent, trying to figure out how to alert Grey without his walkie.

So he stood there, listening to things being moved, metal clinging. “This is a goldmine. Can’t believe these idiots left it open like this, just ripe for the takin’.” A man cackled, the young man risking it to get a look at the thieves. Three of them, one stripping Kas while the other two robbed his riches.

“Shuddup. You want security up our asses?” Another snapped.

“What? That old guy probably ain’t got his hearing aid in.”

“He ain't alone dipshit. He's got that kid in here. Didn’t see him leave.” The last guy grumbled, sounding like he was struggling. “He’s not gonna be a problem. If he tries anything, I’ll show him mister pew pew.” That got Steve sweating. He needed a plan, a distraction to escape. From his vantage point, he noted the doors were close to the men, there were no windows, and the fire escape was a sprint away that gave the thieves an open shot. But the fire alarm was on the wall, parallel to him. Pulling it would alert firefighters and police, and hopefully scare the men enough to give him the opening that he needed. It was as solid as a plan he could make, but of course, he should know that life loved to make him struggle.

It came in the form of a, “Pull harder numb nuts.”, followed by a clatter. Peaking out he was met with the king's bracelet skidding past him. That’s what gave away his safe spot, the men already yelling and sprinting towards him. Steve took off, snatching the bracelet on the way to the fire alarm. He pulled it as he passed, heading towards the nearest exhibit, Pharaohs of Ancient Egypt. There were plenty of places to hide, Steve choosing the curtain that framed a standing sarcophagus.

It was sheered, easy to see through, yet nearly impossible to see in the dark museum. He gripped the bracelet, trying to quiet his breathing when the men came into the room. The alarm lights flashed and blared, however, he could hear things being thrown and smashed. There was angry yelling between the three, Steve watching the best he could through the fabric. He could make out only their silhouettes, watching in horror as they destroyed parts of history, feeling powerless. Was this how it was supposed to end, hunted and afraid? A fitting end to the last shitty months.

All he knows is that he isn’t going down without a fight. The bracelet was a decent weight and could knock someone out with a strong enough swing. He hoped it was enough as the silhouettes grew closer as Steve braced for an attack.

A scream froze the moment, now four shadows appeared on the other side of the curtain. “What the hell!” The man closest to the newcomer howled before he fell, his partner's screams echoing. Gunshots rang out causing a horrified scream to escape the young man. He fell to his knees and curled up, wanting to be as small as he could. Steve couldn’t fathom, nor did he want to attempt, the horrifying noises on the other side. There were screams and then silence.

He could only hope that the perpetrator didn’t find him- but once again life loved to beat him down. The curtain was pulled back, giving him an up-close view of the mystery man. Steve met with those warm eyes that once brought him comfort, now a sign of terror as Kas stood, marble painted in blood. He wanted to beg, to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a whimper. The statue took a step forward and the younger man fell back, trying to push himself as far away from the creature.

Not taking the hint, Kas knelt in front of him, reaching out toward him. He dropped his sword as fingers brushed against Steve’s cheek, causing him to flinch at the cold stone. It was silent between the two, aside from the blaring alarm, leaving them staring at one another. Pulling back his hand, Kas scooped the young man up without warning. A squeak escaped him, fear keeping his mouth bound as he was carried through the blood-drenched room to the king's exhibit. There he was gently sitting on the edge of the stone coffin that had been cracked open to show the interior. The body had been removed before the exhibit had opened so there was no fear of a zombie popping up. Just Steve and Stone Kas.

Steve was balancing himself the best he could while stone eyes studied up and down his body. They stopped on the bracelet still gripped in his hands, causing him to fumble trying to hold it up to the marble man.

“H-Here! I-I didn’t mean to take it, but I kept it safe. See, no damage.” He shook as the statue took the bracelet, examining it closely. Steve sat there, just waiting until Kas saw fit that the bracelet was fine. He hesitated with any noise or movement, not wanting to earn the creature's ire. He wished to disappear, to be locked behind his car doors on the other side of the country, just out of the king's sight.

Unfortunately, that wish quickly broke when Kas wrapped his hand gently around Steve’s upper arm. He watched in horror and confusion as the bracelet slid onto his wrist, giving the man his first clear look at the jewelry. It was a thick gold band with some basic designs carved in it, a bright red gem enclosed in it. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, even Kas seemed to think so as a smile came to the carved face.

“Yeah, i-it’s a lovely piece, but sadly I’m not a jewelry guy.” His nervous chuckle was cut short when the smile fell, his body tensing as it was just them in silence once more. “Please-.” He whimpered.

A sob broke free when Kas leaned in, his cold lips pressing into his forehead. “Te videre iterum, amore mea.” He whispered, pulling back enough to peer down into Steve’s eyes. Without warning he was shoved back into the coffin, the lid pulled over without a struggle.

“Shit.” He mumbled, trying to push the stone lid off to no avail. “Shit! No, no, shit!” He screamed, pounding against the marble. Panicked tears dripped down his cheeks as he kept trying to push to top off. “I- I ca-. I can’t breathe! Please let me out! Please Kas!”

There was no telling how long he was screaming for, but no one came to his rescue. The fight left him abruptly as the situation set in. He was stuck in a stone prison, running out of air, no one knowing where he went. No one would notice him missing until much later after he suffocated. This was how he was going to die, as a nobody.

Steve went to cover his face, only to be splashed with water. He sat there, horrified at the thought that he was bleeding, but no. His body was sitting in water, the coffin filling at a ridiculous rate. He no longer had to wait to suffocate, now he was going to drown long before that.

A new panicked fueled fire filled his stomach, his legs coming up to kick at the lid. He figured if water was getting in, there was a chance he wasn’t completely sealed in. His head was underwater while he kicked with all his might. Soon it started sliding with each kick, giving way to enough space for his body to squeeze through. He wasted no time, the water weighing him down as he pulled himself free.

It was dark aside from a flickering archway, his body freezing as he took a minute to catch his breath. He could tell he was no longer in the museum, the only light seeming to be the only exit. A groan escaped Steve’s lips as he pulled himself towards the light, coming to a spiral staircase that only went up. It was illuminated by torches on the wall, the only warmth in this dark room. Freedom was near, and though his body wanted to give in to rest, Steve pressed on. His body ached, each step taken with a struggling limp that made the trip feel like hours.

He nearly cried when he saw the doorway, a light illuminating the stairs. He was ready for bed, or maybe he’d try to hit Grey up for a shower to get all the death dust off of him. If he was lucky, this was all a horny-induced nightmare.

That came to head when the universe decided to remind him once more of his shit luck. When he walked out of the doorway he was greeted with a group of swords pointed at him, surrounding him. His body was aching, fighting to stay standing as another wave of armored people came in. Trying to take a step back Steve’s body gave out, a mumbled “Fucking bullshit.”, escaping before he hit the ground. His world went dark once more.

________________

If you want to be tagged in the future, comment below.

Chapter 1| Chapter 2

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steve x eddie #SetinStoneSteddie

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WAYS TO COME UNDONE

this is part 2 of WAYS TO DESTRESS but can be read as a standalone

summary: coriolanus keeps his promise about making you squirt all over him. what better way to do it than in front of the mirror.

pariring: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, fingering, sex in front of mirror, squirting, pussy spanking, p in v, use of safe word, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people), I DESPERATELY NEED A CORYO IN MY LIFE

a/n: hi 🌚 many wanted this, myself included hehe. it took a turn towards the end where it basically wrote itself. i have no control over what tickles my brain. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do. hopefully this oneshot shows more about the machinations of their relationship.

requests open ✨

From the moment Coryo showed you the racy clip of him using you while asleep, you have not been able to stop the waves of heat that consume your cunt.

You're a stellar student who always concentrates on the lectures and participates in class. Today, you find yourself in the back of the classroom, daydreaming about Coriolanus and his tongue. Focusing was out of the picture for you as you tried not to sneak your hand between your thighs and soothe the ache.

One of the many reasons your relationship works so well is that both of you are extremely perverted. Coriolanus has always been more in tune with that side of himself, but you needed assistance to bring that side out. Coriolanus saw it in you long before you did, and he patiently gauged it out and molded it to fit his crooked ways.

It's why Coriolanus using you while you were knocked cold has you acting this way. He pleasured himself when you were at your most vulnerable, and instead of feeling violated, you thanked him. You savor that instead of finding another whore to fuck his frustration out, he stays with you, no matter the state. If that makes you sick, then be it.

When your last class was over, you rushed to the apartment. You needed Coriolanus to stop this burning inside you. Sadly, he's a teacher's pet and workaholic who only managed to get home at eight at night.

He walks into the apartment calmly, humming under his breath while you watch him like a hawk. Coryo sees you on the living room couch 'lounging' and approaches you to leave a kiss on your head. Your eye twitches when he announces he's going to shower.

His upturned lips give him away. He's tormenting you. As if waiting for him all day wasn't torture enough. It could be worse, though he could've stayed longer at the lab. God knows he has a ton of experiments to work on.

With a huff, you follow him into the bedroom.

"How was your day, darling?" He asks, taking his clothes off.

He's like a masterpiece that has escaped a museum. His fair skin is unblemished except for the scars on his back that you've spent hours running your fingers over. Sometimes, he feels them burn, a reminder of what he's done in the past, but then you're there kissing over them to ease the pain.

"Long," you dryly respond, crossing your arms, inadvertently accentuating your chest.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Coryo says humorously, stepping into the steaming shower.

The foggy glass hides him from you, but you remain watching by the bathroom door. Despite your short answers, he continues to talk to you, successfully getting under your skin.

He's entertained by your lingering presence. Privacy is not in your vocabulary anymore. Coriolanus likes it when you get this needy. It's like an experiment where he tests how far you're willing to go.

It's not complicated; all you have to do is ask, and he'll give you the world, but you're too modest for your own good. It prevents you from coming right out with it. You could've had him the moment he stepped into the apartment if you had only asked.

You look at him hopefully when he steps out of the shower. Shamelessly, you take every inch of him. Coriolanus strong shoulders, his chiseled chest and abs, his pretty pink cock that hangs half hard most of the time.

He deprives you of it as he wraps a towel around his hips. Coriolanus approaches you, water droplets falling from his blonde hair and down his body.

Coriolanus is so close to you, and when you think he'll dip his head down to kiss you, he grabs your hips and moves you to the side to give himself passage into the bedroom. "'Excuse me."

You want to throw him with the vase of roses settled on the bathroom counter. You resist since you need him to be conscious for what you have planned. You're aware of how Coriolanus can read you like a book. So why isn't he asking about your mood or if you need anything?

He sits against the headboard, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his cock clearly outlined by the fabric. Coriolanus doesn't wear underwear to bed, he doesn't like the tight fabric when he's asleep. Having you hugging him throughout the night is enough.

With a huff, you strut over to the bed and straddle his lap. Expecting it, Coriolanus reaches for your hips, holding you tight onto him.

"Do it again," you say, placing your hands on his chest and provocatively arching your back as if offering yourself to him.

"What, darling?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow. He tilts his head towards you as if he didn't hear you properly.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Make me squirt," you say blatantly. It sounds wrong coming from your lips.

Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head, "I said another time, darling. I'm tired tonight."

You punch his naked chest weakly, with your frown turning deeper. He grabs your hand midway through the air as you try to smack him again.

Amused at your boldness, he opens your palm and laces your fingers together. He kisses the back of your hand and holds it to his chest.

"You are mean and cruel, Coriolanus," you spit out, hoping to annoy him by using his full name. Maybe this will make him do it or at least provoke him to do something.

"You knew that when you accepted to marry me." His gaze hardens as he taps on the engagement ring on your fourth finger.

It glints delicately, catching people's attention and letting them know you're taken. He spent months searching for the right ring for you. Coriolanus had to find the perfect balance: nothing too simple where it would pass unseen but nothing too gaudy where you wouldn't wear it.

"I don't care how cruel you are to others as long as it's not me," you respond, cradling his jaw in your hand.

"Give me a good reason why I should do it," he asks, kissing your palm.

"I'll do anything, Coryo. I'll suck you off in the lab, cockwarm you in my father's office, let you tie me up, fuck my throat, anything! Hell, I'll even let you try anal again," you huff, winding yourself up.

You must really want it if you brought up anal. It's the one thing you've tried and haven't wanted to do again. You're pretty open to his suggestions, but that one is your hard limit.

He won't make you do it again. Seeing you needy like this is enough. Although he might take your offer of blowing him under the desk in his lab.

"You make a compelling case," he hums, looking at you carefully. You're flushed without him even touching you, and your nipples are hard under your nighty.

This isn't a whim, your body is visibly begging for him. Coriolanus has to pat himself on the back. This is all his doing.

"Coryo, you don't know how many times I've watched that video," you say as if to prove how much you need him.

"Kiss me," Coriolanus sighs, giving in.

You slam your lips against his, eagerly kissing him until you're breathless. Your fingers curl around his hair, tugging the strands and making him groan into your mouth. Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting him.

Coriolanus smacks a hand down on your ass cheek, leaving a red imprint behind. In retaliation, your teeth bite harshly onto his lower one, causing a drop of blood to surface.

"I love you, darling," he growls as his eyes darken with lust, and he cups your face with both his hands. You've turned so bold under his tutelage, stealing pages from the book he wrote.

"Yeah, I love you too, come on," you pant, taking off your night dress to reveal yourself to him.

"I've created a monster," Coryo murmurs, pawing on one of your breasts as he mouths the other one.

"Don't act like you don't like it," you moan, rolling your hips down on his bulge. Your lack of underwear is apparent as a wet patch forms on his pants.

Coryo involuntarily unwraps you from his body as he stands from the bed. You chase his lips with a whine when he pulls away from you. Coriolanus sets a chair in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room, sitting on it and motioning for you to sit on his lap.

If he's going to give you what you want, he will do it his way. You need him to make you squirt, so he's going to have you watch so you never forget about the moment. He'll engrave in your brain how it was he who made it possible.

With his hands on your waist, he turns you to face the mirror and pulls you down to sit with your back to his chest. Just like a doll, he positions you with your legs propped up on his knees, exposing your dripping cunt.

"No matter what, you're going to look at yourself in the mirror, or there will be consequences," he growls into your ear, licking the shell of your ear and biting your earlobe.

"Yes, Coryo," you moan, excitedly biting your lip.

Looking at him through the mirror, you notice his wicked stare. He begins to roll your clit on his fingers steadily, earning a sigh of contentment from you.

He's memorized everything about your body. Each stage of arousal is burned into his brain at this point. It's how he knows you've been touching yourself today.

"How many times did you touch yourself?" He questions, digging his nose into your neck to smell the remnants of your lotion and perfume.

"Two before I left for university, one during lunch, and two when I got back," you admit between moans as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You were late to class because of Coryo's video. Still, your arousal persisted so much that you locked yourself in one of the bathrooms of the university and rubbed your clit till your legs shook with an orgasm. You walked out of the bathroom, ashamed of your behavior, but it got you throughout the rest of the day.

When you got home, you fell on the couch, pressing one of the decorative cushions between your legs. You rocked against it for nearly an hour, edging yourself to give Coriolanus time to get home. The last one was in the shower with the detachable head minutes before he arrived.

"Five times and one in public," he chides with a click of his tongue, "What do I do with you?"

Your confession is music to Coriolanus' ears, but you can't know that. So he delivers five sharp slaps down your spread cunt. He covers the reddening flesh with his hand, putting pressure on it to ease the sting.

"Ow, Coryo," you cry, digging your nails into his thighs where you are barely hanging on.

"You should've come to me. I could've helped you much more than your fingers," he tells you mockingly.

Uncovering your cunt there is a dash of red on your skin. Coriolanus didn't hold back with his slaps. It's hard to explain why, but you like it when he manhandles you like that. He makes you cry just to console you later.

"You're busy," you sniff, hiccuping when he gathers your slick to spread it over the stinging skin.

Coriolanus takes his studies and lab work seriously; you never wish to interrupt him in any way, no matter how many times he reassures you it's okay.

"I'm never too busy for you, darling," he responds, resting his chin on your shoulder. His touch returns to your clit, rubbing it round and round until you're moaning out his name.

Finally, Coriolanus slips his finger into you, giving you the relief you desperately want. Even if it is your pleasure, his fingers are better than yours. They are long and strong and know precisely how to curve to give you the pleasure you seek.

The relief that takes over you is so much that you let your head fall back with your eyes closed. In an instant, the fingers are gone, and another slap is deposited on your sensitive skin.

"Eyes on the mirror," Coriolanus reminds you. He wants you to see how he's the only one that can make you crumble.

His free hand, which had been wrapped like a vice around your waist, comes up to your chest to squeeze your breasts and nipples. His eyes darken as he observes how your supple flesh spills between his fingers.

"Look at how pretty you are," he whispers in your ear as he adds another finger into your dripping cunt.

A sense of bashfulness settles on your chest as you do as he says. You follow his hand as it trails down your sweaty skin, your face and chest flushed because of the heat. He traces your nipples with his fingers, and you watch how they turn hard in response. Next, he touches your stomach, his fingers ghosting your belly button from which he has licked his own cum from.

It's like your body harbors memories of Coriolanus Snow, from the multicolored lovebites in your chest and neck to the thick arousal that coats your thighs. Each one was caused by him, for him.

Sensing your mind is slipping, he lightly taps your thighs, bringing you back to focus on the body he considers so beautiful. He takes his wet fingers out of you and spreads your cunt even farther with them.

He traces your pearl, which is bright red, frustrated from arousal and the constant touching it has endured today. Then, your pussy lips that puff out as blood surges to it.

Coriolanus gathers the drop of slick that hangs from your fleshy pink opening. "See? All beautiful and all mine," he says. Only now does he allow you to turn from the mirror because it's to kiss him.

Remembering why you're in this position, Coriolanus slides two fingers into you, fucking them with precision into your g spot. No more teasing and prolonging.

"It feels so good, Coryo," you whine, holding onto his arm as your hips grind further into his hand.

"It looks good, too," he mutters, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallows his fingers. Not even your nails digging into his arm snaps him away from the pretty sight.

With hooded eyes, you keep looking into the mirror, waiting for the moment Coryo promised you. Coriolanus hand presses down on the spot above your mound. It's the key to make you squirt. His fingers bully your spot more forcefully, feeling your walls clench with an impending orgasm.

"Oh, fuck, C-coryo," you choke out, breathing heavily. It's like an orgasm is coming but so much better than the needy, desperate ones from today. It feels much more fulfilling.

"Relax for me," he prompts, slowing his pace. You're always so fucking tense even as he fucks you senseless.

"Ah, ah, ah," your moans staccato as you near your precipice and tears accumulate in the corner of your eyes.

It's a constant climb where you feel the excitement of nearing the top, and then suddenly, you slide back down. A sudden burst of pleasure consumes you as a gush wets Coryo's fingers and mirror. His fingers whip out and furiously rub your frustrated clit, causing a smaller gush to stream down.

Your mouth is ajar as you gasp, your hands bunching up the fabric of his pants. Your cunt visibly spasms as your orgasm prolongs itself.

"You did it, darling," Coriolanus sweetly says, kissing your cheek as he looks at you adoringly, "How did it feel?"

He touches you all over, spreading the drops of squirt that adorn your thighs. Your legs fall down limply as you relax back onto Coryo. He continues stroking your skin, looking at the beautiful, wet mess he made.

"I-I don't know, there was this just sensation of release like everything left my body," you say between pants as you try and catch your breath.

Coriolanus smirks and hugs you tightly, lost in his own world. It's like the post-orgasmic bliss affected him rather than you.

"Can we try again?" You ask minutes after, feeling the spark reignite by just thinking about the stream of fluid that came out of you.

"Whatever my darling wants," Coriolanus agrees, spanking your ass playfully when you get up from the chair.

You kneel on the floor to pull down his pants and find his leaking cock. Going straight for it, you suck him off like there is no tomorrow, swallowing around him and taking him deep till your nose rubs against his pubic bone.

Coriolanus doesn't allow himself to cum, even if his body screams at him to shoot his load into your warm mouth. Pulling you up from the floor, he pushes you towards the bed. You get on your knees and hands, shaking your ass for him cheekily.

Coriolanus has a feeling that today it will be a quick one. You're both too wound up to prolong this any further. His hand curves over your hip as he pushes his cock through your folds, wetting it. Without a warning, he snaps his hips, stretching your walls.

"Love your cock, Coryo," you moan as he fucks you harshly. "So big and thick and so deep," you mumble, acting cockdrunk.

You bury your head on the sheets, arching your back so your chest presses against the bed as you splutter nonsense. The tension of the day gets to you, and you allow yourself to go dumb on his cock.

"It's all yours, darling," he grunts, gripping your waist to push you back onto his cock. At this point, you're a cocksleeve to him as he chases his release. The sounds of his balls slapping against your clit are loud and obnoxious.

Keeping a steady rhythm, he fucks you until you're fluttering around him again. Coriolanus bends over your back, splaying his hand on your pelvis. He had promised he'd make you squirt again. It works as you drench his cock again, soaking the sheets and his thighs.

"Oh my god," you cry as your legs shake. You would've fallen flat on your face if it hadn't been for Coryo, who holds you up as he continues to push into you.

Tears soak the pillow you're hugging. It's too good. His cock is brushing repeatedly over your spongy spot. You don't want him to stop, ever, but you're so sensitive. It's a push and pull. You want more, but you're unsure if your body is up to it.

In a moment of lucidity, a wave of emotions grabs you and pulls you down. It snaps you out of your trance and hurts your chest. Shame, pleasure, desperation, joy, embarrassment, arousal.

Questions invade your brain. Since when have you been like this, letting yourself be treated this way? How are you not ashamed of yourself? This is not how a lady behaves. You're no better than a whore in a whorehouse. You should be ashamed of yourself.

"Rose!" You cry out with a sob as the shakiness localized in your legs spreads all over your body.

Immediately, Coriolanus stops all movement, startled by the use of the safe word. Your soft cries snap him out of his shock, and he, as gently and carefully as possible, pulls out of you.

Your whole body shakes as you cry, worrying Coriolanus to no end. He questions if he did anything that hurt you but comes up empty-handed.

"Darling, are you okay?" He asks, helping you sit up on the bed. He takes the clean blanket by the end of the bed, covering your body.

"Too-too much. I-I'm sorry," you hiccup, hugging the blanket tighter against you.

Coriolanus carefully respects your private space since he's unsure if you want or need his touch. He sits beside you, though, listening to anything you might need.

Humiliation fills your body. You were the one to ask for more and couldn't handle it, worrying Coryo about something that was not his fault.

"It's okay, nothing to be sorry about," he speaks with the softest voice he can muster, "Do you want me to bring you water?"

"Just hold me," you say as more tears trickle down your face.

So, he does. Coriolanus kisses your temple and runs his hand across your back until your sobs settle. He holds you close and whispers reassuring words in your ear.

You desperately want to tell him it's nothing he did. He wasn't being terribly rough or mean. You loved every moment of tonight until your emotions and unwanted thoughts got the best of you.

In your vulnerable state, the pent-up frustration of the day and the negative emotions you kept locked bubbled up and caused a sensory overload. Even now, you can barely speak, trying to regulate your emotions again.

"Don't go," you hiccup, reaching for his hand when Coryo stands from the bed. Terrified, he believes the same things your brain is feeding you.

"I'm not going anywhere, darling. Just looking for our clothes," he says, squeezing your left hand and kissing your knuckles.

Coriolanus grabs his pants from the floor and slips them on. Digging through the drawers, he finds one of his t-shirts and grabs a pair of your underwear. Your comfort is his priority, and he knows how comforting you find wearing his clothes. He helps you put the garments on, wrapping you back up on the blanket.

Leaning back on the pillows, he pulls you towards him, hugging you to his chest. You hug his middle, burying your head in his neck, falling asleep like that.

He stays awake, feeling the puffs of breath on his neck. Coriolanus hand keeps running up and down your back, under your shirt. It works to comfort himself as well.

You've only used the safe word twice, and both times, you had been doing worse things by far. He had understood twice and had been alert in any case. Today took him off guard, and it scared him.

Coryo debates on waking you the following day. He decides to do it to check how you're doing. You can decide if you want to go to university or not. He will walk you there personally if that is what you choose.

He wakes you by running his hand up and down your arm, softly shaking you out of your slumber, "Darling?"

"Mmm," you groan, your eyes fluttering open. He'd kept the curtains closed so they wouldn't bother you.

"How are you? Do you need anything?" Coriolanus asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

You stay silent momentarily, gauging your mental state, "I'm good. Am I running late?" You ask, sitting up on the bed.

"No, it's still early. Want me to walk you to school?" He asks, watching as you get up and head into the bathroom.

"Please?" You ask, turning to look at him before closing the bathroom door.

"Of course," he nods.

"Coryo, I think I know what happened last night," you speak loudly through the door, not a moment later.

"And what's that love?" He asks, standing by the door.

"I got my period," you say simply.

The blood staining your underwear is the reason you lost yourself last night. Your hormones must've been all over the place yesterday. It explains your sudden breakdown and why you were acting like a bitch in heat before that.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He's glad it's just that and nothing he did. He feels calm now as most of his worry is swept away. "I'll go make breakfast," he tells you before he heads out to the kitchen.

His worry is replaced by disappointment in himself. He lost track of your damn period because he was so busy at the lab. He has to share part of the blame. Ever since he started living with you, he noticed those subtle mood changes you got as your period neared and passed through.

First is the neediness, constantly touching him and asking to be touched. You got freakier when you were ovulating. Then there is the bad mood you get whenever he just as breathes the wrong way or places something where it doesn't belong. You try hiding it and holding back your scoffs, but he notices. Lastly, it's the tears. Your emotions are delicate when this time of the month comes around.

Last year, you got your period around the time of The Hunger Games and couldn't watch them. Tears instantly tracked down your face when you usually don't care. Coriolanus had to record them for you to watch later because you wanted to see everything that was implemented, thanks to him.

Because he recognizes how you get, he took it upon himself to make those days more bearable for you. Not to say he tiptoes around you, but he's gentler, more restrained. He tries not to be too mean. Had he known your period was right around the corner, he wouldn't have teased you today or made you wait for it.

He scolds himself as he pieces the puzzle together. That must've been why you took the sleeping pills the other day. You had an emotional day, and your overthinking mind didn't let you sleep.

Sensing he's kicking himself, you hug Coryo's waist from behind as he places the food on the table. "I love you, Coryo," you say sweetly, pressing a kiss on his spine.

Now, this is more in line with your normal, sweet behavior.

Coriolanus turns around in your embrace, hugging your shoulders and pulling you tight against him, kissing your hairline. "I love you so damn much," he speaks into your hair. "You had me worried last night," he admits, kissing your lips slowly before he lets you go.

"I don't know what happened. One moment, I was alright, and the next…well, you know," you shrug, sitting on the chair Coryo pulls out for you.

"Your emotions got the best of you. I know how that feels," Coriolanus nods, understanding better than anyone how it feels to lose yourself in the moment.

That day in the forest of District 12 will forever haunt him.

There we go! That was the part 2 I promised you! It took an unexpected turn but it felt right to me. Sorry it couldn't be kinkier :(

If you'd like to read more of this pairing you can also read The Mentor. It's a small prequel to this one shot set around three years back when they started dating. That being said The Mentor Pt. 2 is FILTHY.

If you liked it don't hesitate to let me know!

#ifanfiction #smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction

[viajunebaby]

Task Force 141! — Sending and Receiving nudes!

tw; mentions of sex, nudity, nsfw.

Ghost;

Sending;

— he isn’t big fan of taking pictures of himself, but, oh boy, when you are texting him in that needy manner he’s already preparing

— doesn’t take too much time to take a pic of his dick to send it to you, he’s already hard from your dirty talking over the text messages

— his pictures are always the same, low angle, his veiny hand holding his length while his thumb is gently caressing the tip

— he doesn’t care about the time and place to send you these, if you are asking nicely you are getting it, darling

— one time he accidentally send it to your e-mail and when you opened it at work you had a nice, big surprise

Receiving;

— he’s a sucker for your pics

— definitely has private folder of every single nude you sent him over the time

— at first stages in your relationship he was very subtle to ask for them, but after some time he was just asking straight

— ‘you were lookin’ so fuckin’ good today, dear. come on, one pic f’me?’ how can you say no?

— he also doesn’t care where you are at the moment. you are at work? it’s okay, go to the bathroom. you didn’t shaved? what’s the issue?

— obviously, he prefers the real thing but he can’t say no to your hot pictures on his phone

Soap;

Sending;

— he loves it

— you don’t even have to ask him for some spicy pics, you wake up and they are already in your phone

— he knows you love his body, so he is spoiling you with his pics whenever he can

— definitely took some pictures for later so when he is busy he can send you them without having to strip down and take some photos

— he loves to add little notes to his nudes; ‘look what you did, lass/lad, gonna fix it?’ or ‘miss being inside you’

— he sent you couple of videos too, of him masturbating, his breathy voice in the background of the video while sloppy sounds of his dick are taking over your imagination

— sometimes he is asking gaz if this pic is good to send. he has no shame

Receiving;

— ohhh, he’s on his knees already

— he can beg and plead over the texts for just one pic, sometimes he even calls you to get them

— ‘please, baby, i need to see that perfect pussy/cock of yours’

— and, well, it’s working every time

— you can even send picture only in your underwear, it’s working for him already

— praising you and your body like you are the art in the museum, he worships you like crazy

— one time he accidentally made your nude pic a wallpaper for his phone and didn’t even noticed, until ghost asked him to use his phone for a minute

— since that accident he always make sure to save your pics in private folder

Gaz;

Sending;

— he is a big fan of sending nudes

— when I tell you, this man is a fucking model, I’m not kidding

— he has a full photoshoot of his naked body and it’s only for your eyes, honey

— he knows he is attractive, he has no shame of posing naked for the camera and then tease you with them for the whole day

— he doesn’t send fast pics, he isn’t that kind of guy to just take a pic and send it to you. it has to be a fucking masterpiece so you are drooling

— not only showing his dick but also his abs and broad shoulders (you know you love it)

— mirror pics are his favourite, because you can see his face, his chest, his abs and most importantly his hard cock waiting for you to come home already and choke on it all night

Receiving;

— obviously, he loves it, too

— although he isn’t asking that much for a pictures, no, he is bigger fan of videos

— he loves to watch you playing with yourself, how desperately you want to find a sweet release while he knows you can only cum with his help

— your shaky voice while you are whispering his name on the video… fuck, he is hard again

— ‘makin’ me so fuckin’ horny with only your voice, babe. be ready when i get home’

— big fan of sexting

Price;

Sending;

— at first it started as a joke

— you were joking and teasing him about how he definitely had a hot photoshoot when he was younger

— next thing you knew, he sent you a picture of his younger self, his abs weren’t that big and he wasn’t that hairy but his dick? oh, god

— since then you’ve been asking him for more pics but from current times and he couldn’t say no to your pretty fucking face

— he doesn’t send them often, maybe once in a few weeks, when he is away on a mission and he knows that you need him so much

— mostly they are mirror pics, his muscles covered in hair while he is holding his hard dick, smirking softly as he is posing

— ‘enough for my baby to help yourself?’

— he absolutely loves to tease you a bit. sending you pictures of his semi hard cock in his boxers or the towel wrapped around his waist

— he adores your begging over the texts for more

Receiving;

— he doesn’t mind if you are not in the mood to not send them, he can stick to the videos he took while you two were fucking

— but when you are in the mood, it’s over for him

— you always make sure to take a pic from the best angle so it’s showing all the body parts he loves the most about you

— it’s working every single time

— he got used to receiving nudes from you while he is working, when he hears the notification from his phone while he has a meeting he knows better not to open it right now

— he doesn’t save them on his phone, he has too many pictures of you that he took

— it’s just a bonus for him when you are the one sending hot pics, but obviously, he doesn’t complain about them

hiii my first ever post here, amazing experience

requests are open, love ya and take care! 🩶

#cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #soap cod #captain price #ghost #gaz cod #price cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod mw3 #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john mctavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod men

[potol0ver]

Hello! I've really enjoyed your hcs and requests for Erik and I was wondering, could you write one for Erik with a partner who is an artist that views him as a muse? Drawing his masked face and doodling his hands and figure silently all the time even if they don't tell him they find him beautiful outright, it's obvious in their secret artwork

Yessss this is adorable i love this

Tags; GN reader, artist reader, Drabble (I still don’t know if I’m using that word right-)

Even before you and Erik got together, Erik knew about YOURE artistic skills. Always watching you from the shadows as you worked on your next masterpiece. No matter how “bad” or unfinished the project was, he adored it like it belonged in the museum. The older works that you forgot about he stole and put up in his home deep under the Opera house, he couldn’t help it, he needed to be surrounded by your brilliants.

After you two starting talking and interacting with each other he noticed how your works became a little more moody, or take more inspiration from the Opera house itself more. Erik entertained the idea that you’re doing that because it reminds you of him, but he snaps himself out of it thinking that he’s just showing you more of the Opera, of course you’re inspired. It’s not because of him.

Overtime the two of you became an inseparable pair, you can continue to work on your art in his home as well as he can work with you in there to, if anything it’s boosting both of your work ethics. Erik sitting at his piano and you sitting nearby with your sketch book in hand, how can it get any better than this? Perfectly domestic and calm as you two worked on your art. If only he knew, just like he’s writing songs about you, that you’re drawing him as your muse.

Sitting in your lounge chair off to the side of his piano room, you sat sketching him with a charcoal pencil. Slowly but surely capturing his appearance with small strokes and the occasional intentional smudge of the charcoal on the page for definition. You couldn’t help but have a small smile as you take a look at the page, you capture him perfectly in your eyes. His mask, his hair, even the disgruntled look of him as he focuses on his music, leaning over his piano.

Truth be told this isn’t the first time you’ve done this. You’ve say many times in this chair sketching him, let it be just his face, or maybe some anatomy practice where you focused on how he held his body. Like all artists hands were the bane of your existence, but you couldn’t help but try and tackle that subject to immortalize his, whether they’re in his leather gloves or bare, they were always intriguing.

Erik was always a muse to you, even before you ever saw him and only heard his voice. Those drawings of the opera house you did were made to try and capture him. They were always the places and moods that you felt like captured his unique aura and voice. The day you finally saw him even in the shadows you couldn’t help but try your best to get it on paper. Truth is you’re as infatuated with him as he is with you, but he’d never guess that.

Now that you’re spending most days with him, it’s hard to hide the fact you’re drawing him. As odd as it sounds you just didn’t want to be seen as a creep for it. Your sketch book quickly filling up with all the sketches you’ve done of him, and you still don’t feel confident enough to show him one. Maybe, in time when you create a masterpiece as him as your muse will you finally show him, but until then, he’ll continue to be your secret muse.

#erik destler #erik poto #phantom of the opera #erik destler x reader #phantom of the opera x reader #phantom x reader #the phantom of the opera x reader #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera fluff #erik deslter x reader #erik destler fluff #erik fluff

[icycoldninja]

hello! may i request for a reaction/interaction for the sparda boys about having an s/o who is an artist? (for drawing reasearch and ideas teehee)

Ohoho coming right up!

Sparda boys x Artist!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-The day he discovered you were an artist was the day you gained a permanent, constantly willing model.

-Always wants you to draw him, no matter what time of day it is. He'll wake you up at 3:00 A.M. because he just put together the most badass outfit he's ever seen and wants you to sketch him in it. (Except it's the same outfit he always wears)

-The drawings you make of him hold more worth than museum art pieces in his eyes.

-Buys you sketchbooks, art supplies and whatever you need whenever he can afford them.

-To him, you are more talented than da Vinci. Not that he knows who da Vinci is, because according to him, you're the best artist in the world.

-Follows you on all your social medias and likes your every post.

■ Vergil ■

-Hangs your art up everywhere like a proud dad; the fridge can now barely be opened because there are so many drawings attached to it.

-He will (with your help) download any digital drawings and use them for a variety of purposes, such as his home screen on his phone, lock screen, etc.

-If you just gift him drawings of himself he will tear up with sentimantality and hastily excuse himself so he can go cry in private.

-Also buys you art supplies, paints, and whatnot whenever you need them.

-If he wasn't such a boomer, he'd follow your social medias too but unfortunately, he is tech-inept, so he can't.

-Loves watching you draw just as much as he enjoys looking at your drawings.

□ Nero □

-Normally, Nero isn't all that into art and really doesn’t care for it, but when you came along, all that changed.

-Now he's suddenly super interested in it and wants to watch you draw or have you teach him to draw whenever he's free.

-He's no Picasso, but he can at least manage a couple of funny looking stick men.

-Really into painting now, mostly because he can use the various attachments on his arm to make different patters on the paper. Yes, this is a complicated way to say he finger paints with his prosthetic arm.

-Any sketches you do of him, any at all, will go into his wallet unless you want to keep them for yourself.

-His wallet is now packed to the brim with folded up pictures of him that you drew, so whenever he's away on a long mission, he can stare at them and remember his badass S/O drew that for him.

● V ●

-You're an artist? V's perfect for you--he's a writer.

-He will write poems about whatever you draw; they're usually short limericks describing the image, praising your talent, or both.

-Looking at your latest masterpieces is the highlight of his day because they inspire him to write more poems.

-Calls you his "Magnificent artist".

-Shows your art to his familiars, who all agree (except Griffon, of course, he always has something to yap about) that it's quite nice.

-Is pleasantly surprised whenever he finds sketches/paintings/drawings of himself and is honored to be your muse.

#Dmc #Dmc5 #Dmc5 dante #Dmc5 vergil #Dmc5 Nero #Dmc5 v #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dante devil may cry #Devi #vergil devil may cry #nero devil may cry #v devil may cry #Devil may cry x reader #Dante x reader #Vergil x reader #Nero x reader #V x reader #Dmc dante x reader #Dmc vergil x reader #Dmc Nero x reader #Dmc v x reader #headcannons #Requested #thanks for requesting #icycoldninja writes

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. V

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,342

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jk has milk obsession, oc injured, both lonely :(, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: I've heard the requests and I think it's time to fulfill them–how did they get together?! Yes, it's here and I'm excited to finally share! Also, yes this took up whole chapter so a tiny break from present-day stuff but we'll be back at it next chapter. 💞

<< ch. IV ༓ ch. Vl >> | series masterlist

Before marrying you, Jungkook had the same routine. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, put work clothes on, grabbed breakfast, and ran out the door with twenty minutes to spare. Trying to find a parking spot at 7 a.m. at the university was no joke and he had to leave early or some college kid would take the last spot and not think twice.

His night routine was similar. Jungkook finished the day between 5 and 6 pm, slowly regretting he ever agreed to teach evening classes. He’d kick off his shoes, eat dinner, grade some of his student’s papers if needed, brush his teeth again, and went to bed.

It was a constant cycle and with no one around, not even a pet, Jungkook’s life was fairly quiet and systematic. Sometimes his buddies would come over on the weekend for a couple of hours and that surely rocked his world.

But that wouldn’t happen often during the school season due to his ridiculously packed teaching schedule. The most recent person he’d hang around during those months was Taehyung and if he wasn’t free, Jungkook would spend his time at the grocery store–stocking up on milk.

4 years ago

“That was two weeks ago man,” Jungkook says, pushing a cart with five-gallon jugs of milk to his car. He’s on the phone with Taehyung who's reminiscing about the grand opening of the new art exhibit and how “lovely” it was to meet you there.

Jungkook doesn’t need reminding though.

He clearly remembers seeing you there and Taehyung happily making a complete fool of him once he found out who you were. Thankfully you hadn’t seemed to mind too much since you and Taehyung soon moved on to discuss various art theories, masterpieces, and underrepresented artists.

“You didn't have to stay y'know.” If Jungkook didn't know any better he'd think Taehyung was salty. "You could've left at 8 pm like you planned. __ and I would have been fine."

Jungkook winces hearing the man's argument. He did think about going home at 8, but it unsettled him to leave you alone with Taehyung. His colleague was enjoying himself a little too much that night and there’s no telling what he’d do or say when he’s overly comfortable.

Jungkook had to stay until you left.

"Are you kidding me? Leaving you unsupervised would've been the worst idea after all your endless blubbering." Jungkook pops the trunk of his car, stuffing the jugs of milk inside. "God knows what you'd scar __ with."

On the other line, Taehyung smirks through the speaker. "No, that's not it......you weren't going to leave me alone with a woman, an attractive one at that."

Jungkook grabs the last jug of milk, slamming it on the floorboard. "Student, and stop talking about her like that. She's my stu—"

"Say student one more time and I'm going to take all your milk and give it to Yoongi hyung's cats."

"I swear to god, Taehyung, if you touch my milk I'm never going to another art museum or wine tasting with you again." Jungkook is very protective of his dairy products.

"That's okay. I don't need you when __ says she'll be happy to go with me sometime." Smug bastard, Jungkook thinks. There's no way you said that.

"That's bull Taehy—"

"Look she's in her masters and is literally eight years younger than you. It's not that serious so stop acting like she's fresh out of high school. Besides, you said it yourself, she's not a child."

Jungkook grunts, shoving the cart into the others. "She's a young lady who happens to be enrolled in the school. As faculty, we have no business thinking or talking about her outside those terms."

"For fucksake, Kook. You always make things so complicated!" Taehyung's baritone voice cracks through the speaker. "I'm just trying to get you to admit that you're into her some way or another. How many other students have I stayed to talk to and you couldn't give a—"

Just then a loud, high-pitch screech interrupts the call. Jungkook whips his head around immediately. He doesn't spot anything at first but a string of profanities remains audible in the distance.

"Jungkook, are you okay?"

"Yeah, but someones screaming and I can't tell where it's coming from." Jungkook walks around the grocery parking lot, eyes darting left and right. "Oh shit!"

There, near the bus stop, you lay on your side with your right leg stretched out and blood running from your temple. You try getting up but you fall right back down, cursing sharply.

"Taehyung I gotta go, it's __. I don't know what happened but she's laying by the bus stop and I think she needs help!" Jungkook shuts his phone and races to where you lay. He kneels next to you with sheer horror on his face. "__, what happened? What can I do?"

"Damn college boys, Dr. Jeon," you spit, dragging your leg up as far as you can. You reach for your bag which had flung about a foot away when you crashed. "So fucking eager to get off the bus and—oh damn that hurts like a bitch!"

"What hurts?" Jungkook lunges forward to catch your torso from slamming on the hard concrete. "Stay still okay? We need to get you to the hospital."

"I'm all set, but thanks. It'll likely heal in a day."

Jungkook shakes his head and wraps an arm under your back and legs. "Can you put your arms around my neck?"

"Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but I don't want to go to the hospital. Please."

You're serious. No trace of bluffing or even simply trying to act tough. You really don't want to go.

"You need to be checked by a doctor sweetheart," Jungkook insists. "Whatever happened has made it so you can't walk. C'mon, my car is nearby and I'll drive you over."

"No, wait!" He feels you push against his chest.

"__. I'm not leaving you without making sure you didn't break a bone or something. I don't want to make things worse but you don't look so hot right now. So please, let me take you." Jungkook lifts you up when you give a barely consenting yes.

"You sprained your ankle pretty bad hun." Dr. Kim Seokjin draws your attention to the X-ray scan. "Second degree." He points to the visual of your partially torn ligament. "There's going to be a lot of swelling so you're gonna need to stay off your foot for at least 4 weeks."

"Do I have to stay here?" is your first question.

"For the first couple of weeks, we strongly advise—yes." Dr. Kim moves on to the next X-ray scan. "You also cracked a rib which will also take about 4 weeks to heal, or more. Of course you're head has suffered a mild concussion as well but it's very mild thankfully." Dr. Kim catches sight of Jungkook next to you, staring at the scans. "You're wife's going to be okay," he says mid-diagnoses.

"We're not—" you start to say but Dr. Kim continues talking.

"Wife, girlfriend, lover, what have you. The point is, much of what we have here will recover with a month of rest, ice, and elevation." He takes a pen from his pocket and starts jotting down something on paper. "I recommend two weeks here for moderation purposes. If things look good, you finish the healing at home. Still, be careful though, no funny business."

The blank looks on both your faces tell Dr. Kim he wasn't clear enough. "Yah, my filters going to die with you two doe-eyed deer. No funny business means no sex!"

"Oh god!" You outburst, mortified by the thought. Jungkook whips his head to your slack-jawed expression. "Dr. Kim, it's not like that between us."

The older man suddenly zeros in on your professor, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's the matter son? Having trouble getting it up?"

Jungkook jolts in his seat, startled by the crass response. "I—no, what? There's nothing wrong with my—"

"We're not together!" You shout before Jungkook's sentence finishes. "We're friends." Saying that your professor brought you here sounded a little odd for some reason, especially when Dr. Kim was already convinced you two were a thing.

"Mhm sure, heard the same thing from my wife before we went off and eloped." Dr. Kim treads to the door. If he has a dime for how many times he's heard that "we're friends" bs he'd be...well, he's already rich so never mind. "Let's move on to something more productive now, like getting __ settled in a room. The sooner she starts the healing process, the sooner she can be good as new again."

"Thank you Dr. Kim," Jungkook says, slowly standing up to stroll you and your wheelchair out of the room. You didn't like it but the nurses insisted you be in one to keep pressure off your muscles.

"Yeah yeah." Dr. Kim waves him off. "Just remember what I said, no funny business. Especially here at the hospital. You don't know how many times I've heard the nurses catching their patients on top of one another at 2 am in the morning. That better not be you two, whoever you are to each other."

"Yes, doctor." You both reply, thankful of the fact that neither of you are in any position to be looking at each other.

"Is there any way I can be here for less than two weeks?" Jungkook watches as you plead with the nurse. It worries him that you're still anxious to avoid medical attention.

"I'm afraid not," the nurse says simply. "If you need anything, press the call button and I'll be in as soon as I can."

Once the nurse leaves, Jungkook pulls up a chair next to your bed. "Stupid question but how are you feeling?"

"I'm in an ankle brace, my rib burns, and my head is still dizzy. I'm trapped in the hospital for two weeks and all because a bunch of nineteen-year-old boys couldn't wait to hit up some frat party," you groan, not bearing in mind your tongue. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this Dr. Jeon."

"You didn't drag me into anything __. I'm glad I was there when this happened and I'm even more glad that you're here, getting help." Jungkook clears his throat before continuing. "Even if it isn't ideal for you."

You ignore the subtle pry for information. "Please, Dr. Jeon. You don't have to stay any longer. It's the weekend and I'm sure you have plans."

Jungkook gives a faint smile. "So, you're saying this is none of my business?"

"No, not—not at all. I mean if you want to stay then I guess you can but I don't want you to feel obligated or anything."

"I want to be here," Jungkook says simply. "But you know that's not what I meant. I'd like to know why it bothers you when anyone tries to help you...if I may."

"Just habit," you mumble quickly, averting eye-contact. It's not your professor's job to bear the weight of your problems.

Jungkook nods in reply, pretending you gave a satisfactory explanation. He wishes you'd tell him but if you didn't want to share more then that was your choice —he wasn't going to force you. "I understand." He grabs his phone from his pocket and rests his elbows on his knees. "Are you hungry?"

"Huh?" You look back at him, his question going right over your head.

"I asked if you're hungry. It's about dinner time so I can get you something if you want. I also have a bunch of milk in my trunk that needs to get to a fridge. But I can place the order now and pick it up in my way back here."

"Milk in your trunk?" Is the only words you repeat, dumbfounded. "Like chocolate milk or...?"

"Nah, Whole Milk." Jungkook grins at your scrunched up face. You try to hide it but not very well. "Don't look so disgusted. Milk is good for you."

"Yeah when you're ten years old."

"On the contrary!" You flinch when his voice rises, along with his eyebrows. "Milk has a lot of health benefits as adults. It has thirteen essential nutrients and helps maintain muscle and bone strength. I drink at least two full glasses a day, if not more."

"I'm sorry but that's nasty." You shudder at the thought of drinking milk in your twenties let alone your thirties. "You really enjoy it? The taste?"

"Yup, always have since a baby! Loved it so much that my mother-" You raise an eyebrow to which he abruptly switches topics. "Anyway, do you want me to pick you up something or no?"

You giggle, a little uncomfortable with whatever he was about to disclose to you.

"That's okay, no thanks."

"You sure? Otherwise I'm gonna be eating in front of you." Jungkook knows how this sounds — he's trying to force you to eat. But the truth is, he just doesn't want to eat by himself tonight. He also doesn't want to leave you alone this early, especially when you obviously detest being here, for whatever reason.

"I'm sure," you say. "But...if you want to come back you can. Not like I have anything to do anyway."

"Good then." Pleased, Jungkook opens up his phone contacts. "Give me you're number in case you change your mind while I'm out."

Over the next couple of weeks, Jungkook continues to stay by your side. He leaves to teach his classes of course and to go home late at night, but he stops by every day—hours at a time.

You keep insisting that he not come so much but he always makes the same excuses. "I just brought food" or "You're on my way home from the university". Sometimes he brings in class notes too.

Due to your current predicament, you're missing a lot of content so Jungkook thinks it best to go over key principles with you and takeaways from his lectures. He says it's his duty as a professor–never minding the fact that many of his other students are in a predicament of their own yet he’s not bothering to do jack for them.

"Look Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but you really don't have to. I'll be perfectly alright to catch myself up from the textbook and study guides. You don't have to keep stopping by." You try again but Jungkook keeps his wall just as strong as yours.

"I know I don't have to __. I know that I could leave right now, take all these lecture notes home with me, and not feel guilty about a thing. But I told you I was going to be here and I'm going to keep to that no matter how many times you urge me to leave. I also want you to call me Jungkook outside class but have you allowed for any of those to happen?" Jungkook tosses the folder of notes in his sachel, a loud thump following. "A simple thank you would suffice."

"I am grateful, I really am. But I never asked to be given so much of your time. I feel bad because maybe you're just one of those overly nice people who feel it's their duty to stick around or what not when someone's in trouble. I don't need to be pitied over! Also, you said I could keep calling you the usual, so Dr. Jeon it will remain!" Why you're raising your voice, you don't know but it's happening either way.

"Yeah I did," Jungkook quips, matching your tone. "But after the last, nearly two weeks I think we ought to be on a first-name basis! And I'm in no way pitying you okay? I'm here because I care dammit! I don't want you to be alone and I don't want you to be behind in getting your Masters. So I' try to be be here every day for at least fifteen minutes if not more!"

You don't fully process what he says so you reply to what you remember most. "Why? Why can't I call you Dr. Jeon? It's been that way from the start, twice every week. So why do I need to call you Jungkook all a sudden?!"

"Because it makes me feel younger, you insulted my milk after I first took you to the hospital, we've been eating dinner almost every night since your injury, you told me about your childhood cat named Mr. Muttonbottom, and you just called me by my first name so there are no take backs! Now, if you're done making a fit, do you want bibimbap or jajangmyeon for dinner tonight?!"

What the actual hell? You cease your arguing at once, hearing your professor, or excuse you, Jungkook, all fluffed up. Obviously, you're not the only one high-strung over being stuck in the same routine day in, day out.

"Jajangmyeon...please," you mutter.

"Thank fuck," he swears. Yeah that's new too.

"Sorry for getting mad earlier." You mumble the words as soon as Jungkook returns with the food. "It just feels odd that you've been here all the time...you're my professor."

Jungkook mauls over your choice of words, stiffening ever so slightly. "Well, I'd like to think we're sorta friends now but alright. Does this actually bother you __? I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, you know that." He places the bag of take-out on the small desk near your bed.

"No, it's doesn't bother me." you just don't know how to react or what to say besides a measly thank you. More so, you don't want to make someone feel responsible for you...you should take care of your own shit without bringing others with you. It's not the best mindset, you're aware, but its the one you have.

"Okay good because to be completely transparent, I'm sorta here for me too. I live my myself, eat by myself, talk to myself....I do most things alone so it's nice having someone else to be around." He's not sure where to set his eyes, so he looks downward, fumbling with the napkins in front of him. "I'm making this awkward, sorry."

Feeling the strange need to offer comfort, you stretch a hand over Jungkook's arm. "I get it. It's nice having someone around too."

You and Jungkook hold each other's gaze for a few seconds more, letting the brief silence do the rest of the talking. Maybe you've been looking at this a little too one-sided.

"How are you feeling today? Any better?" Jungkook cracks open the bowl of Jajangmyeon, handing it to you with a pair of chopsticks.

You take the steamy food and gesture to your ankle which has swollen down a good amount. "Still more healing to be done but it's better."

Jungkook hums in approval. "That's comforting to hear. Dr. Kim going to discharge you soon?"

"Yeah, I think so. A few more days and he said I should be able to rest up at home."

"Really?" He chews on his bottom lip. "Well great, uhm , do you have stuff going on when you get back?"

You think a moment, trying to recollect if you made plans with Na-Rae. "Maybe some but not much. I don't have a ton of people around me right now either...down here I mean."

"Well, do you wanna go out to dinner then?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected. It's almost like he planned this or at least has been thinking about it for a bit. "We've been eating together for a while now and I think it might be a nice celebratory thing."

"Are you asking me on a date...Jungkook?" Because it defiantly sounds like he is, as indirect as it may be.

His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well...let's go with "hang out", like friends do."

A/N: so yeah, thats how they got together 👀😅 anyone surprised? Thinking about a drabble for thier first date now haha. Anyway, next chapter we get back to present day stuff where more drama goes down. Also, adding a chapter bc this flashback took the whole chapter lol. Lmk your thoughts 💞

Masterlist

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #23)

FEB23: Established Love

John had been on tour through the spring and summer, and you’d spent the warm months alone. For part of it, he could talk to you freely, but near the end of his duty, he had warned you that he’d need to “go dark” for a while. Days had turned into weeks, and weeks had become months. The fiery sun had shifted across the sky, and what was once a humid morning now had a cold nip in the air. 

Then, as if he had come in on the change in the winds, he was back. Or, a version of him was, anyway.

He had been home for a few days, and while he had told you that “it” was “over”, he had been changed by whatever it was, and he hadn’t told you much else. You noticed he was sleeping for only a few hours at a time. Sometimes, he would wake you up in the mornings with a ravenous, animalistic need, and other times you would find him on the balcony, drinking coffee, enjoying the sunrise. Sometimes he would go out in the middle of the night for a cigar, and some nights he would be at your neck and your breasts and your hips with his lips and his teeth. You never knew which John you were going to get. 

But, he also seemed relieved. It was as if he had been running, sprinting full out, and had finally reached his destination.

One morning, while you were showering together, he was soaping your body as well as his own, and he made a suggestion,

“We should go to the Smithsonian today. They have the Klimt exhibit you were talking about. I looked it up last night, and it’s there this week.”

It wasn’t out of character for John to suggest a day trip, but he hated D.C., and you had only mentioned the Klimt exhibition off-handedly back in January, so it was a bit of a shock. 

“Yeah, John,” you rubbed his body with the lather, marveling at how toned and thick his muscles had become, “That sounds nice. We can take the train.” 

You admired his body as you washed him, but you also felt the shade of contempt rising like bile in your throat. He was hardened by whatever had happened to him, by whatever hell they had put him through. He was only made to look like this broad, cut Adonis because they (whoever they were) had used him like a hammer to a nail. And you resented them for it. 

As much as his heavy form stirred your core and made you crave that strength to be used on you, you wanted to rinse it away. You wanted your soft bear back. You wanted him to be chubby and happy and filled with cheesecakes and champagne and bagels in the morning. You didn’t want him to be a hammer. You wanted him to be your lover, and you thought, selfishly, that it should be his only responsibility. The world, you decided, could save itself. He deserved peace. 

But, that wasn’t up to you. He was his own man. You tried to put those thoughts out of your mind, but you had to admit that this last tour had been hard on both of you. 

The train ride was quiet, as was the stroll down to the museum. John held your hand as you walked through the exhibits, and when you came to the hall that housed the visiting Klimt pieces, you gasped. 

There, in all of its golden glory, was The Kiss.

You stepped toward it, marveling at the gold and watching the light dance across it. The Lovers were there, locked in their perpetual embrace, and she was at his mercy, literally on her knees for him, held tightly in his hands.

John’s voice rumbled in his chest, and he said,

“That’s how I feel about you. I feel as if I’ve never loved anyone until now. I’ve never been loved, and I’ll never be loved again. Not like this.”

You turned away from the masterpiece you’d been admiring to face your very own lover, looking up at him and letting his words sink into your bones, wrapping around them like golden threads, never to be taken back. 

Then, it was his turn to be on his knees. You watched him fall to the floor, confused at first and then —

“Marry me, love. I can’t live without you by my side. Please.”

He offered you the ring, a huge, round pearl surrounded by diamonds. It looked like it cost as much as the painting. You felt hot, heavy tears flowing down your face, and you didn’t even realize you’d been crying. 

But, you managed to nod and whisper, 

“Yes. God, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

The ring fit like it had been made just for you, and he rose from the ground and clutched you to his chest. All at once, you knew how the girl in the painting felt. You kissed John, and in doing so, you knew how she had kissed her robed man. You could imagine how the blood had rushed through her body, flushing her cheeks and pooling in her belly, responding to her love’s embrace. John was him, and you were her, and you were one.

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic

[velveteencryptid]

Just watching the Mummy and having moments

Like, was SJM inspired by the Pharoah's mistress when she painted Feyre Under the Mountain (so everyone would know if anyone touched her, aka Tamllin)?

Like, how Evie and Rick make a good team as soon as they're on the same side: she's watching his back, pulling him out of gunfire without asking or needing to be asked, he's watching hers, recognizing what the wet footprints *might* mean and checking on her immediately.

Like, how Evie says "if he turns me into a mummy you're the first one I'm coming after" but what she means is "I love you" and he GETS IT immediately. They've well established that Imotep has been obsessed with reconnecting with his beloved despite being a mummy. Evie is telling Rick, you're beloved to me, and he hears her even though they've spent so little time together.

Like, how Jonathan is constantly avoiding conflict but NEVER backs down when it happens. He is the last to drop his gun when they visit the museum in Cairo for answers.

Like, how they so subtly compare Jonathan and the prison warden. Both pick up the blue gold scarabs. The warden is driven by greed, he is giggling, he keeps saying "one more" until a scarab breaks loose to eat him. But Jonathan is curious. "Hey gents, have a look at this" he says as he grabs one to show Rick and Ardeth. When it inevitably breaks loose to eat him, Rick and Ardeth are able to save him. Jonathan is greedy, yes, but it is not his primary motivation. And that saves his life.

Like, how Brendan Fraser's eyes have not changed at ALL. Now that he's back in public view, I watch this and go, "oh, there you are Brendan! We missed you buddy"

Like how Evie is a damsel, and she is in distress, but she can handle it. Give her an inch to defend herself and she f*cking WILL.

Like how the entire finale is an absolute PERFECT balance of humor and serious action. We are absolutely worried for their lives, but when Rick screams at the mummies we laugh, bc bro what are you doing lol.

Like how what secures their victory isn't violence or brute strength, it's knowledge. *Evie's* knowledge. She helps Jonathan translate a dead language to save Rick, then she translates it again (under EXTREME pressure) to make Imotep mortal.

Just, ugh. The feels. What a masterpiece.

#the mummy #the mummy 1999 #brendan fraser #rick o'connell #having feelings #relationship goals #subtle character comparisons #well written #well written characters #sarah j. maas #sjm #sjm books #a court of thorns and roses #rachel weisz #evelyn carnahan #jonathan carnahan #ardeth bay #masterpiece

[madebycloud]

A Masterpiece

wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you led wednesday through the cavernous halls of the art museum. but for wednesday, there was only one work of art that truly mattered: you. warnings/themes: fluff, art museum date words: 0.8k (it's too short, im sorry) note: this fic is based on a song i listen to while I'm in class, so i hope you enjoy it! (ignore the grammar errors.)

Wednesday should've said no.

Her writing time was too precious to be spent in an art museum. She had plans to brainstorm more ideas for the stories and poems she wanted to publish in the near future. Wednesday had always been a writer at heart, and she felt like her creativity flowed best when she was alone and surrounded by her own thoughts.

But with your bright smiles and enthusiastic jumps, it was hard to say no. She knew that your love for art was endless.

For you, art is more than just a hobby or a passion, it's a way of life. You adore the colors, the details, and the meaning behind every brushstroke.

The prospect of seeing your face light up with excitement was all the motivation she needed to accept the invitation.

You walked through the museum, admiring the art, discussing history and technique, and letting your enthusiasm shine through.

Wednesday followed you, with soft music playing in the background. She could hear the footsteps of other visitors, the rustle of clothes, and the quiet whisper of conversations.

You stop to admire a famous painting, the Mona Lisa, and your eyes light up as you take in the beauty of Leonardo da Vinci's work.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You pointed out the intricate details, the colors, and the perfection of every stroke. "I'm not sure which word is best, but it's certainly a masterpiece."

She couldn't help but turn to look at you as you stood before a painting, smiling as you admired it.

A masterpiece? Wednesday couldn't understand how you could refer to a painting with nothing but paint on it, just splashes all over, as a masterpiece.

Your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips— Wednesday was mesmerized by your beauty, feeling as though she were looking at a work of art come to life.

That was the moment she realized that you were the true masterpiece, and no painting, sculpture, or drawing could ever compare to the beauty of you.

You looked at the painting and felt like a true artist. You knew you couldn't recreate the beauty before you, but your hands yearned to try. Your mind was abuzz with ideas, and you wanted to share your thoughts with Wednesday.

She was the masterpiece, your muse, the inspiration for everything you desired to create in this moment.

The way her brown eyes shone like the stars in the sky, her freckles dotting her skin like a constellation— she was the definition of perfection. You wanted to capture her on canvas, to preserve her perfection forever. But for now, you would enjoy her presence and let your imagination run wild.

You looked back at the painting. Feeling the blood rush in your ears.

"But you know, some people don't really appreciate art," you continued, referring to the people in front of you who were taking pictures. "They take pictures just to add to their social media, done. They don't try to understand the essence of the artwork, all the emotions and hard work put into it."

Wednesday nodded in agreement, understanding that some people just don't try to understand the emotions and hard work that artists put into their art. It takes years of practice to perfect their craft, and some people just look at the surface level of it.

You checked your watch and noticed it was time to go back. You asked, "So, which styles of art did you enjoy the most? Did you prefer classical, medieval, romanticism, basque, or could you relate to Leonardo da Vinci's art, maybe even Vincent van Gogh or Claude Monet's works? Tell me, my love." You asked, tilting your head as you walked, trying to make conversation and get a feel for her perspective on the artwork.

Wednesday paused for a moment, considering your question, before her eyes met yours. She finally spoke, her voice low and serious. "Your question is so banal and pointless," she said, rolling her eyes.

She continued, her eyes still locked with yours "Art is a subjective experience, influenced by myriad factors such as one's personal taste, cultural background, and emotional state. But if I had to choose, I would say that, to me, the most beautiful art is the art of life itself. And looking at you, my dear, I can't help but see the most exquisite and breathtaking work of art that I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon."

You can't help but smile as you look down at her. Her slender frame, her pale complexion, her dark hair… everything about her seems to radiate a sense of beauty and mystery.

And as she leans in to loop her arm around yours, you realize that this is not just a moment, but a memory that you will cherish forever.

How did you manage to find someone as wonderful as her? You ask yourself as you look up at the sky.

Knowing that you want to share all of life's beauty and wonder with her makes you want to spend the rest of your days with her.

#wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday addams fluff #fluff #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: A museum that's been around for 100 years, huh. Guess I might as well have myself a good time, since I'm here.

Summon Line: Can't believe this museum decided to pick someone from our academy to be a supporter for their 100th Anniversary... They must've been feeling especially brave, huh?

Groooovy!!: You gotta live your life with cunning. Just like how the walrus did when he took advantage of the oysters' curiosity.

Home: Yaaay, it's the 100th Anniversary!

Home Idle 1: Ortho was saying that the pictures we can see on the internet and these real paintings feel completely different. I mean, yeah, I get it, feels like the real thing has more impact.

Home Idle 2: Jamil-senpai can cook and handle a basketball awesomely, too. I bet he's real good with his hands. What if he knows how to draw, too?

Home Idle 3: Bet it was real hard following all the Queen of Hearts' laws to the letter. If I were one of the card soldiers, I'd probably slack just enough to not get caught.

Home Idle - Login: I wonder if I'm even worth being a supporter to a museum like this. I got no interest in art appreciation whatsoever.

Home Idle - Groovy: Lilia-senpai did nothing but tease me, man. I'd love to get him back for it, but I have a feeling nothing I do would faze him.

Home Tap 1: I can really feel my own posture straighten up when I look at the painting of the Queen of Hearts. Heh, more like, it reminds me of my own demon Housewarden.

Home Tap 2: What does a guy have to do to learn how to draw such spirited paintings? I bet if I could figure out the trick, I'd be able to get good grades in art class.

Home Tap 3: Trey-senpai was saying that he doesn't really understand art, but I wonder if that's really true. I feel like he'd be good at it, what with all those cakes he makes.

Home Tap 4: Maaan this place is much bigger than I thought it'd be, and there's so much to look at. Wanna go take a break at the café?

Home Tap 5: My scarf is pinned with a rose corsage. Cool, huh? Eh, you want to borrow it? Hmm, should I let you～?

Home Tap - Groovy: Hey, hey... Woah, why're you that surprised? You must've been way too focused on the art to not notice someone calling out to you. But that shocked face you just made... Hahaha, that is the true masterpiece!

Duo: [ACE]: Lilia-senpai, let's finish this off with a bang! [LILIA]: Let's go all out, Ace.

Birthday Login Message: Oh, and here you are. You came to celebrate my birthday, right? That's totally obvious. I wonder what I should ask you to do for my birthday～ ...Ah, I feel like eating at a restaurant I've never gone to before. Don't worry, I won't pick a place that's way too expensive or anything. Let's just enjoy ourselves in a restaurant where we don't need to mind any rules or manners.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #lilia vanrouge #twst ace #twst lilia #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: ortho #mention: jamil #mention: riddle #mention: trey

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 11: meet cute

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

A special one, I really enjoyed writing it. Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer walked through the gallery in silence, paying attention to all the paintings and trying to give them his own interpretation. For some strange reason, being in those places relaxed him greatly and right now it was what he needed most: a well-deserved respite after a long day of work.

“Good night,” he greeted a young woman, who was attentively looking at a painting.

The woman he saw couldn't have been more than thirty years old and her clothing was... how to put it? Something eccentric. All the clothes were vibrant tones and she wore a woven bag with uneven parts, who knows if it was on purpose or not.

“Good night,” you murmured just as kindly, keeping your hands in the pockets of your colorful jacket.

The painting in front of you was, in short, something grotesque. But it wasn't in a bad way, it had a certain special touch that made it… Spencer couldn't even describe it. It was very good, but to some extent uncomfortable to look at. Almost like a ritualistic crime scene that he was so used to: beautiful, but at the same time terrifying.

"Do you like it?"

“Huh?” the man asked, fearing he had misheard the girl next to him. She nodded toward the exhibit and her brain filled in the blanks. “The painting? Yes, I think it's very good. I'm afraid I'm not a great connoisseur of artistic currents, but from a very point of view this could be part of The Black Paintings, Francisco de Goya's collection”

“I know them,” you said happily. “My favorite is that one about Saturn devouring his son. You know, the one where they're eating a…” you started to say, making signs with your hands that he understood immediately.

“I think art is very subjective, like everything in the world. Some people may consider the Mona Lisa a masterpiece and others may appreciate more the style of Van Gogh or the cubism of Picasso and they are all right. Each person enjoys art things that reflect the content of their soul and I think that is the beautiful thing about paintings, don't you think?

“You know a lot for someone who is not knowledgeable about art” you smiled, feeling captivated by the way the stranger next to you expressed himself.

“Actually I say that I am not a connoisseur because I don’t want to offend those who are. I've only read a couple of books on the subject and... well, I love coming to museums, but that's all”

“Honestly, I think it's very ugly,” you said suddenly, turning your head slightly to observe the painting “It looks a little strange on the bottom, whoever did it should improve their technique a little.”

Spencer felt strange hearing such a cruel comment coming from a person who seemed to be sweet, but he figured you would have your reasons for holding that opinion. He considered leaving there but his attempt was interrupted by another presence, this time a man dressed in an elegant suit who approached you.

“Miss Y/L/N” he greeted you cordially, while you shook his hand “I see you came to appreciate our exhibition, do you like the light we put there? Does it help the colors of the work or do you want us to change it to a warmer one?”

“Oh, don't worry Frank. I like that one, it makes it look gloomy” you answered nonchalantly “You just should put it somewhere else, I'm not very proud of this one in particular”

"What are you talking about? Many people liked it. Isn't it good, gentleman?” he asked, turning to Spencer who was watching the two of them curiously.

“It's beautiful,” he confessed. He actually thought that, he wasn't saying it out of commitment or anything, and his response made you smile sheepishly.

"Stop. Everything is perfect here, thank you for giving it a home in your gallery”

“And there will be more spaces in the future, think about it,” the man murmured, squeezing your shoulder warmly and friendly. “Have a good night, excuse me.”

“Goodbye, Frank.”

The two of you watched the man walk down the hallway until he got lost in a turn and then the agent turned his attention to you.

“So you're an artist?”

“I try that” you laughed. He took a look at you and then at the picture in front of you, as if he had a hard time believing that you were the creator, of course due to the difference in styles that both elements had “But I like that people don't know, so I can hear honest opinions. And I appreciate yours, you are very kind.”

"I only say what I see"

“Would it be very bold of me if I asked you to be my model one day?” you asked cautiously, hoping not to scare him with your request.

"A model?"

“I really like your jaw,” you exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air at the line you were talking about. “And the way your hair falls. They are nice to paint”

“Well, I…I would be flattered,” Spencer said, not knowing how to react to what you had just said. Something like that had never been suggested to him and he felt strange, but excited at the same time.

“Do you want to write me your number?”

“I can give you my card,” he stammered, digging in his briefcase so he could give you the piece of paper. When he extended it to you, you analyzed it with curiosity.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. FBI” you read, quite impressed “So we both got a surprise today, huh?”

"Definitely"

“I'll call you,” you promised, pocketing the card warily and rewarding him with one of yours. They were simpler with hand-painted details and with fewer titles, but it would be useful for him to contact you “And who knows, maybe the next time you come it will be you who is in the gallery.”

Spencer blushed at the thought and smiled at you, wondering how possible that was. You responded to the smile with pleasure, because unintentionally you had just found the one who would permanently become your muse.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

[fandomaya]

Shadows in Reflection

Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

CW: No curses!AU, Sukuna is related to Yuuji, Reader has dark brown/blackish eyes, food is mentioned, reader is a university student, implied age gap, overall fluffy and a tad bit philosophical. NOT PROOFREAD!

WC: 1.4k+

Summary: In the heart of art and introspection, you find yourself entangled in an unexpected connection with Sukuna, the enigmatic cousin of your neighbor, Yuuji. Sukuna's fascination with your perception, particularly your "pitch-dark" eyes, unravels a profound connection that transcends the canvas of a melancholic painting. The day unfolds like a vivid masterpiece, leaving you questioning the boundaries of freedom, the comfort of darkness, and the unspoken secrets hidden within the gaze of those mysterious, crimson eyes.

a/n: There's no specific painting mentioned here, just some vague descriptions and philosophical interpretations spun out of thin air. But if you really want to visualize, then this piece of art comes close: https://www.artic.edu/artworks/154235/the-girl-by-the-window. Please enjoy the work below!

“What do you see?”, Sukuna murmurs next to your ear, his head gently on your shoulder. You wonder how he feels so comfortable being close to you, and surprisingly, why don’t you feel uncomfortable with the goosebumps lining your skin underneath your clothes? But you decide to focus on the painting in front of you, although your thoughts partially lean towards how Sukuna agreed to meet you in this art museum, of all places. Maybe it isn’t that astonishing since in all the little conversations that you have had with him, he is quite well-versed in literature and art.

You are the next-door neighbor to Yuuji, a sweet boy who is studying in a nearby high school. You are acquainted with him just because you are a university student, and you tutor him for some extra academic lessons on the weekends since he is not that bright in studies, unlike sports where he is impressively well. Plus, you need the extra money for your expenses as well.

Sukuna happens to be a distant cousin of Yuuji, though he is only a few years younger than his dad. It's hard to believe, but the same shade of light pinkish hair shared by Mr. Itadori, Yuuji, and Sukuna serves as proof. But Sukuna is distant in his demeanor too, and you sometimes wonder about his outcast behavior, though he seems to be an all-rounder who is good in almost everything, including finances, philosophy, sports, and even cooking. It was a couple of chance meetings and one fine day of exchanging numbers, and today all of a sudden Sukuna wanted to meet you out of nowhere. And here you are, gazing at one of the last paintings in front of you and bearing the weight of his head on your shoulder.

“I asked you a question, little thing,” he says, mildly annoyed, which brings your complete focus back into the present.” What do I see? As in face value or interpretation?” you reply absentmindedly, immersing yourself in the hues of the canvas in front of you. “Do not complicate the question. Just answer what you feel like”, he says in a moderate tone. You move away from him a bit and keep on glancing at the painting that has got you enraptured.

You then turn towards him and say, “I see a woman who tastes freedom for the first time and consequently getting her expectations shattered”

He chuckles and gently turns you back and points to the written board beneath the art, "But here the artist has titled it as melancholic night because her husband has left her for her mistress. Seems like a painting inspired from real life, huh?”

"Yes, it is melancholic indeed. Who said freedom is always happiness? Yes the heart, the soul or whatever does feel lighter but when you find comfort in carrying burden, the void, the loss of it makes you difficult to stand your ground firmly"

"And why do you say freedom? Her husband just left her. She seems dejected to me."

Now it was your turn to chuckle and Sukuna was mildly amused as if you had all the answers to unanswered questions of the universe. You gathered yourself and replied, “maybe to you, but not to me. For me her features are gradually relaxing by the windowsill under the glow of pale moonlight and light winds caressing her face, that same face that craved to be caressed by a man who didn't regard her ever but…” you paused for a moment before turning back to face him again and meet his eyes “Anyway the realization is dawning on her that um there is no point in you know being devoted to a concept that doesn't serve your soul. Also notice how she is stepping into the light and freeing herself from darkness"

Sukuna swiftly shifted his gaze back to the art. “You mentioned shattering expectations. How does that happen?”

Sighing softly and tilting your head slightly in deep thought, you mused, “Um, I don't have an exact expression for that honestly. I feel it's more like once you are in darkness for so long it starts to feel comfortable and freedom feels like unworthy. Maybe the freedom she did get, it doesn't make her happy because she feels a void and tries to soak in the light, but I cannot figure out if it's helping her or not”

The man in front of you just looked at you wordlessly, wondering about the seemingly simple wisdom that perhaps could be the key to taking him out of the misery of his own life. But he pushes aside those thoughts to wonder about them in the loneliness of the night where you invade his heart with your uncomplicated demeanor, the warmth that comforts and not a signal for some impending burn or destruction. Pushing his left hand into his jacket pocket, he extends his other hand to interlace his fingers with yours, “Let’s go kid, we got to eat something”, and so he drags you aimlessly, but you don’t have it in you to say something else. After all, the natural warmth of his palms is something that you don’t want to miss.

The café is quaint and nostalgic, which reminds you of all the times you used to sit alone to do some assignments or read a book in solitude. But now you aren’t alone and a seemingly handsome man is in front of you along with a few pieces of pastry and a milkshake for you while he is stirring his cup of espresso.

You know only bits and pieces about him from what Yuuji has told you. You don’t want to pry into his life through others, as that would come off as creepy. But your curiosity wanted to know more about him in any way whether it is knowing about his intricate tattoos or the way he is so distant towards his relatives who seem you never know what must have happened to him to behave this way. Again, your stream of thoughts is broken with Sukuna’s intervention.

“Your eyes are indeed mirrors. Nothing can escape, whatever is perceived”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” you were dumbfounded at this sudden remark

He takes a sip of coffee and looks out of the window. “Earlier, you mentioned feeling bad about having dark eyes, but I see that as your hidden power—an abyss that can drag someone down.”

You take a loud sip of your milkshake, which makes him turn his head towards you only for a moment before looking towards the glass window and staring at his faint reflection.

“Your eyes are pitch dark and reflects what isn't reflected by anything else in the human realm. What enters your eyes through your vision doesn't escape your thread by thread articulation of the visual fabric”

“Hmm, that’s poetic or should I say philosophical. I wish I had such wonderful eyes that you describe of, but unfortunately, they aren’t” You smile softly while stirring your milkshake.

He holds your palm and tugs you towards him, making eye contact that is so vulnerable that you get lost in the crimson of his vision, and he just whispers, “Well you do. A part of me is scared to look you in your eyes because I will find a version of myself that I buried deep. But another part of me wants to confront what lies within me through the reflection of your dark orbs that glimmer when rays of light hit your eyes, and you rarely ever squint”

This felt like some divine confession, as if it is a secret of the universe that he wants to make you a part of, as if you can never hide anything from him because he knows things about you that you do not even know of. He lets go of your hand and gets back to finishing his modest cup of coffee.

After a few moments of silence, you finish up everything on your plate though you feel Sukuna has hardly eaten anything, but he just shrugs and expresses that he is not fond of such “treats”. You end up rolling your eyes and trying to ignore his remarks, convincing yourself that at least you are indulging yourself at his expense. Ultimately, you feel contented that you spent an interesting day at the art museum and had pastries in the nearby café and now Sukuna will surely drop you back home, so you are looking forward to enjoying the car ride as well. You hope to know more about him if destiny permits, perhaps what is his music taste in case he plays something in his car.

a/n: Do you know the original WIP was more than a year old and the intended character was completely different at the time! It was actually Akaashi from Haikyuu but um anyway I changed it to Sukuna for no specific reason other than wanting his classical ass' attention. Also, what ideas do you have about his music taste? In my opinion, he probably listens to orchestral music in his car but heavy metal while working out.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna fanfic

[withlove-amber]

Sunsets and Secret Hopes

gibbs x reader

(Y/N)’s day had been no picnic, no walk in the park. First, her power went out on her block while she was asleep, which means her alarm didn’t go off. So when she checked the time on her phone, she bolted out of bed and rushed to get ready. She needed to be at work in 25 minutes, and in DC traffic, she should’ve already left. Second, when she got into work, Gibbs didn’t even acknowledge her. For the rest of the day, he treated her like she was a probie, not a full-time NCIS agent. Lastly, DiNozzo was being extra annoying, asking personal questions all day long. 

When it was time to go home, everyone said their goodbyes and went their separate ways for the night. The only 2 people left in the bullpen were (Y/N) and Gibbs. She checked the time, it was nearly 6 pm. She made her over to Gibbs’ desk, dropped off the completed paperwork, said goodnight, and walked to the elevator. Gibbs felt slightly guilty about treating her like a probie again, especially after he saw the despairing look in her eyes as she said goodnight. He decided to catch up with her before she left the Navy Yard.

‘Wow’, she thought, ‘The sunset is absolutely beautiful.’ Instead of driving home quickly to beat the sunset, she just stood there in the parking garage. Just being. And that’s how he found her. Standing by her car, staring off into the distance at the sky. The bottom of the sky was still a comforting blue shade of baby blue. The soft blue shade was blended into a stunning shade of lilac. The clouds tied the whole thing together, with their shades of deep peach expertly fading out into shades of baby pink. The sky looked like it should be hanging in an art museum, surrounded by a solid gold frame.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The sky.” (Y/N) asked Gibbs. “Yeah, it’s really something…” He replied. “I love sunsets. They make me feel peaceful. Especially after a hard day. All it takes is one look, and I start to forget what’s been troubling me.” (Y/N) said, her gaze fixed onto the masterpiece of a sunset before her. Gibbs wasn’t sure what to say next. Should he apologize for how he treated her earlier in the day? Should he leave it be? Luckily he didn’t have to, as (Y/N) decided it was then or never, and asked him, “Can you stay with me, Gibbs, until the sunset fades?” “Sure.” He replied. He looked down at the agent standing next to him, and took in the sight before him. 

(Y/N) looked so peaceful. So much more peaceful than he’d ever seen her. He secretly hoped that he would get the chance to see her this peaceful again. ‘Oh,’ he thought, ‘Am I falling for her?’ Nah, there’s no way. Well… her smile does light up any room she’s in, she’s always kind to everyone she meets, and her eyes are so warm and inviting. Oh, I’m falling for her. And I kinda like it.’ If he only realized her true feelings about him, that she feels the exact same way. Why else would she ask him to stay until the sunset faded away into a deep shade of navy, now host to countless stars, dreams, and secret hopes.

#ncis #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #tony dinozzo

[edenalieth]

i want to believe in forever

Pairing: Seungmin x reader

Genre: angst, hint of fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: Seungmin wants to move on from his heartbreak, however the colorful memories of you are holding him back. 

Words: 1.3K 

A.N: hello guys, cami in the building! it’s my first time writing a seungmin fic (@seungseung-minmin forgive me for not making a cuter one ;v;) it was mostly inspired by the song « the exit » by conan gray which i found really beautiful and true. sorry for the possible mistakes. hope you enjoy, feedbacks are always welcome! ♡ — 231217

He took another sip of the black coffee he was holding on his hand and grimaced. It was already half cold and far too bitter for his liking. For how long did he stare at those high limestone walls ? Apparently long enough for his coffee to turn bad. Spotting the closest bin, he threw the drink away, watching it fall as the lid opened spreading the brown liquid. The winter breeze made him shiver and he buried his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, trying to warm them up. 

« You can do this, Kim Seungmin », the brown haired boy thought to himself. 

He climbed the stairs silently until he reached the ticket office. A young girl was reading. She was probably just starting her university course and needed this job to gain some money seeing her bored expression. She barely looked at Seungmin before nonchalantly putting down her book with a barely hidden sigh. 

« What can I do for you ? » she asked, visibly annoyed to be interrupted. 

Seungmin cleared his throat « Hmm, one adult ticket please. » 

He was tapping on the small counter with his fingertips, nervous. He was about to tell her that he had changed his mind and turn around but he had promised himself he would do this. It was necessary. Even if it hurt. He knew, he needed to detach his mind and feelings from this place and many others. 

« What is this book about ? » he said, trying some small talk while she was preparing the ticket. She put one out of the drawer of her desk and handed it to him, announcing the price. « Just a regular thriller. » Nothing more, nothing less. He paid and left without further ado. He was sure that, if you had been there, you would have managed to pick that girl’s interest, even just a little. That’s how you were, solar, attracting people around you like a magnet. However, you hadn’t been by his side for months now, he had to move on. 

When he entered the familiar hall, he was greeted by the unique scent of museum and all its splendor. Soon, he was surrounded by history and felt so little and insignifiant, as well as mesmerized by the beauty of those masterpieces he had seen so many times with you. When you used to call yourselves « us », you had made a ritual to visit this place once a month. The museum was big enough for you to always discover small details you hadn’t seen before or to explore the temporary exhibition. Since your breakup, he avoided this place like the plague. Yet here he was, feeling his heart clenching as he looked at the paintings. One of your favorite hobby was to tell him stories when you analyzed a canvas. Your imagination was overflowing and never missed to make him laugh, which sometimes made you incur the wrath of the visitors and security. No one was here to make him laugh today and loneliness weighed heavily on his shoulders. He didn’t have this talent. He would just skim through the description next to it. Colors seemed dull compared to the vivid memories of you, scarring his heart mercilessly. He felt his throat getting tight. He had chosen the museum to start his healing journey because he knew he wouldn’t be able to cry without being heard. He had shed tears more than he would even admit. Was it truly helping though ? Or what is it just him blowing on the embers of your lost love. 

He sat down on the leathered bench, facing your favorite art. It was a pretty simple one, a cottage on the countryside, using impressionism technique. The first time you saw it, you went strangely quiet. You were like absorbed by it. He remembered how you leaned on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers with his. « I can picture us living there. » you had softly whispered. « It would be the embodiment of our love, our safe place. Growing old together, laughs of our kids and grand-kids filling the rooms. Am I allowed to dream about this ? » your voice had seemed insecure, seeing you vulnerable like that was rare. « Yes and it will be our dream from now on. » he had replied, brushing his nose against yours before tenderly kissing you. Warmth had filled his body, his heart melting like ice under a scorching sun, your touch permanently marking his skin. A dream. Was it all it had been ? Just something made up by his cruel mind ? No. He still could remember the sensation of your skin on his, the scent of your shampoo, the little habits you had, the sound of your giggle. 

Recalling these memories was like torture. The grip he had on the bench became stronger, his knuckles turning white. If only he had noticed how left out you felt sometimes. Maybe, you would be next to him, still daydreaming about your perfect house. Or, perhaps, you just weren’t meant to build one together. This thought turned his vision into blurry shapes. « Shit ». He didn’t want to cry in public. He stood up hastily and looked for the exit. Wandering between the corridors, his steps echoing on the cold ground, the artworks seemed like moving stains. It was as if the walls were tightening around him and he was tempted to rush out of here to get some air. However, his run was abruptly stopped when the object of his obvious desire showed up. You. 

You were there. Your arm around the waist of someone who wasn’t him. His mind went blank for a second. It couldn’t be, right ? He swallowed the sobs that were trying to escape his throat, his hands shaking. He thought you were both sharing the same wounds, that you were still mourning your old feelings. His were surely not buried yet. Still, there was no mistaken. You looked happier now and you had already found someone to miss. He wanted to let himself drown into the abyss of his sorrow. He almost called out your name, every single letter which used to roll on his tongue like honey, addictive like a drug, tasted sour. He had to leash his heart not to break down and try to get you back again. He had tried but you already had built up a wall to protect your opened wounds. His were still raw. 

Were you going to tell this man the same stories you had told him ? Did your « I » became a « we » when you met him ? In fact, he didn’t want to know. He wanted to forget you for a time, to get strong enough to be able to talk about you as a young love that bloomed too fast and wilted in the process. He couldn’t blame you for getting everything you wanted. 

He stared at you, as your eyes spoke for you, full of some love that used to be his. Each step you took leading you towards your ideal. Deep down your heart, feels for Seungmin were still waiting to be set on fire again. However, the ones you had for your new lover were stronger and you wanted to cherish them. It was a painful sight for Seungmin and he wished someone would rip his heart for it to get numb. He had to let you go. He was still standing at the exit before he opened the glass door. 

Immediately, the cold bit his flesh, tears rolling down his cheeks and burning his skin. 

« I want to believe in forever » he thought, you just weren’t meant to be his. 

#seungmin #stray kids #skz #seungmin x reader #seungmin angst #seungmin fluff #seungmin fanfic #seungmin fic #seungmin fanfiction #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #seungmin stray kids #seungmin x y/n #seungmin scenarios #stray kids oneshot #stray kids au #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #stray kids smut #seungmin smut #bangchan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #i.n

[ceruleancattail]

OH BOY DO I EVEN HAVE TO TELL YOU HOW HOOKED I AM ON THE BUTLER AU? We need more content istg (but also don't overwork yourself cuz you're precious)

For the request, I am so going for butler Idia (and someone else if you get ideas for them) with a heavily artistic master? Everything they make is so beautiful, but god, they make a MESS

tysm!

AWW THANKS!!

Ahah, I’ll try not to overwork myself, don’t worry.

Butler Idia with an Artistic Master

Butler Idia x reader

It’s not uncommon to see splotches of colour cling onto your sleeves. Dots of paint line your clothes, a multicoloured show on its own. Everything you touch is marked. Colourful fingerprints beaming from cups you’ve drank from. Paint splatters on the edges of table clothes, blooming like little flowers.

Smears of paint on Idia’s hands,adding some colour to those pale hands of his. Little thumbprints on his face, from when you cupped his face. A blue spot of paint on his nose, from your own nose.

The pink on his face wasn’t from your paints, though.

You create wonderful pieces, bits of personality shining through the canvas. He’s seen you spend evenings sprawled out on the dining table, pencil scratching away at your sketchbook. Sometimes, he can’t help himself. He’ll peer over your shoulder, curiosity getting the better of him. Does genius brew, Master?

If you allow him, he’ll love to thumb through your sketches. Flipping through your sketchbook, Idia’s excruciatingly careful with each and every page. Taking special care not to bend the spine, he’ll pour over your drawings.

Idia will gladly discuss art with you. Debating over compositions, figure placement… he’s surprisingly passionate about it. Idia doesn’t mind being a bit more vocal if it’s you. The sparkle in your eyes when you talk about art… it’s wonderful.

Well, with every art piece, there comes the cost of creation. You tend to get a little carried away with your paintbrushes. Paint splatters on ever surface, dark murky water spilled over the ground, staining the carpets. Paper flying everywhere, crumpled with your steps.

Even as your butler, he does dread the cleaning. He doesn’t hold it against you, though. How could Idia?

Not when you’re so apologetic about it. You even help him with the cleaning, scrubbing at the walls until your fingers glow a scarlet red. In a weird way, he does look forward to the cleaning afterwards.

Just you and him, in a room. All alone.

Idia can’t really lie, it does make his heart skip a beat.

Dunking a rag into a bucket, the bubbles cling onto his wrists, a bracelet of sorts. There’s one around your wrist as well. His fingers meets yours, just barely grazing each other. Yanking his hand out, countless apologises are spilling out of Idia’s mouth, his flames glowing a bright pink.

Laughing, you reach for his hands. Intertwining your fingers with his, pressing your palm against his. His warmth flowed through your skin, hands fitting together perfectly.

Idia does know for a fact that people weren’t allowed to touch the masterpieces. That why they have those borders in museums.

But what’s the protocol for when a masterpiece touches you?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia #idia x reader #twst idia #butler au #lucky charm🔹