#not even sad tbh I’m just disappointed

[haliaiii]

College admission results got me feeling my highest highs and my lowest lows 😭

[izzyhandsbignaturals]

okay back from training… is it me or did nothing that happened in the last episode make any sense narratively. why would stede settle down like they saw the whole conflict and said eh im sick of this! its just gone now. not even going to talk about izzy on this post bc i truly hate his ending in every single way el oh el

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[izvmimi]

cw: heavy angst, talk of children, childbirth and death, grief, bakugou is miserable tbh, izuku has an unnamed wife

a/n: sorry lol. also repost.

Izuku’s infant son looks disturbingly just like him, Bakugou realizes.

A bit small for age height-wise, but chubby nonetheless, with a shock of green wavy-curly hair. Large, green eyes. The freckles haven’t settled in yet, probably because he’s still too young, but the features are nearly the same. 

The kid also won’t stop kicking as Katsuki tries to fasten his diaper, and he’s getting a tiny bit frustrated. At least he’s not crying - thankfully, he doesn’t appear to have inherited the excessively soft disposition from his dad.

“You’re gonna have to be faster than that,” you joke from behind him. Bakugou finishes up securing the diaper, then glances at you and scowls. “Next time he’ll pee on ya!” you giggle while Bakugou gets the baby’s onesie back on then carries him so that he rests on his chest. He makes his way towards the bottle warmer - the baby isn’t crying now, but based on the guide Izuku’s wife gave him, this is about the time for his next feeding and he’s got a pair of lungs on him. It also doesn’t help that the toddler keeps nuzzling his face into his chest as though he’s trying to find a nipple to suck on. 

He does have to admit the little kiddo is cute.

“Did you check the temperature?”

You watch him carefully as he shakes warm milk onto the back of his hand, perched on the counter and swinging your feet gently. Bakugou doesn’t keep his eyes off of you as he checks, child cradled in his left arm.

“I know what I’m doing, princess,” he asserts. He has a little pout instead of a scowl instead, the one you’ve always thought was cute, where he communicates his disappointment that you’re underestimating his skill.

“Of course you do, love.” You smile widely, sweetly, as if you weren’t just micromanaging him. Not that he minds - when you hop off the counter and walk towards him, hands reaching upwards to caress his face gently, he can feel his face growing warm, even if your hands are disturbingly cool to the touch. 

You make your way to the couch first, nearly gliding along the linoleum that lines the kitchen, then along the impeccably clean wooden floorboards into the Midoriyas’ living room. It’s odd that you know this house so well, but you and Izuku’s wife had long been friends and spent many a night together in this very home when he and Izuku had been wrapped up in high grade missions and wouldn’t be home for days to weeks on end.

You flop onto the couch and point the remote to the television, even though it is already on, set to the news. Bakugou holds the baby in his lap as he sits down behind you and starts to feed him. You rest your head on his shoulder and to Katsuki, you are as light as a feather. 

“We haven’t had time together in a long while,” you whisper. 

Bakugou’s head tilts ever so slightly so that it rests against yours as well.

“You’re right. I’ve missed you,” he insists. There’s a quiet silence between you. It really has been a while that you’ve been able to sit together like this, despite being husband and wife.

“Are you fine with babysitting?” you ask. “Izuku was worried about asking you in the first place according to ___, and she had to convince him it was okay despite everything, insisting that it would be good for you-”

Katsuki interrupts your rambling with a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s fine,” he says, gruffly. Your lips pull into a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I wish things had been different,” you say anyway.

Katsuki can feel his heart breaking, and instead focuses on the child in his lap, monitoring his progress on the bottle. He had wanted a child. He had wanted a child so badly, one that looked like him and you, and what had it brought him? 

The memory of you haunting him constantly, always there, but not really there.

When he looks back at you again, your form is starting to dissipate, as it does whenever he starts to remember you’re no longer on this plane of existence.

His hands are full so he can no longer cling to you - plus this has happened so many times before that he’s now nearly used to it - so instead he watches you go, numb, tears no longer falling from his eyes. After all, just for today, he has someone else to take care of, even if it’s for a short period of time. 

The kid is falling asleep in his lap now, and it’s just the two of them as Bakugou watches, but doesn’t really watch the shifting pictures in front of him. Being a godfather feels like an incomplete substitute for being a father at times, but it’s valuable all the same.

“Guess it’s just me and you, kid,” he whispers as he rises to put the baby to bed.

When the Midoriyas never return, and Bakugou signs the last of adoption papers, it rings again true.

The child laughs a little more now, unaware that his godfather now turned legal father sees three figures that aren’t really there instead of one now. Bakugou smiles as he throws the kid up in the air, realizing that misery might have helped him mourn you initially, but won’t keep the two of them safe.

“Guess it really is just me and you.”

[elseishollow]

you’ve awakened my love for nate archibald i swear 🥹

i was wondering if you could write something for him with love languages? like what you think his would be, when showing love or receiving it, or just whatever comes to mind if you’d like to write something like that! <3

hi, thank you so much! nice to know the nate archibald propaganda is working.

✶┈ HCS | LOVE LANGUAGES — NATE ARCHIBALD

• nate. he’s quite easy on the eyes but there isn’t a whole lot going on upstairs. however, if it’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s the language of touch

• it’s an instinct for him and frankly, if we’re being honest here, he communicates love through touch like it's his native tongue

• he will seek any and every excuse under the sun just to feel the warmth of your skin against his

• "here, hold my hand. It's cold.”

• “nate, it’s literally 90 degrees out.”

• “oh sure, blame it on the weather.”

• trust he WILL use any pretext to bridge the physical distance between you

• growing up in a repressive environment, nate learned to express his love through physical gestures rather than words. It's in the way he pulls you into a hug after a long day or rests his hand on your knee under the table

• there’s times where he’ll notice how down you’re feeling with literally one singular glance and he’ll just embrace you while he’s reassuring you with sweet nothings, consecutively telling you, “it’s okay”

• for quite some time. more than he’d like to admit

• he just wants you to be okay! he’s doesn’t like to see you sad, at all. he acts as if he’s just been wounded if you happen to be.

• quality. time. he’s more keen on quality more than quantity.

• cooking together, walking in central park together, reading together, studying together (which is more yapping than studying tbh) and so on

• as for receiving love, it isn’t exactly nate's forte, but when it comes to you, he's like a lovesick puppy in need of affection

• he craves your affection just as much as he gives it

• and when you look into his eyes, you see nothing but pure adoration staring back at you

• granted he’s had his heart broken before, nate tends to build walls around himself to guard himself from the pain of rejection and disappointment

• he can be hesitant.. and second guess everything.. and doubt himself.. and also overthink everything..

• BUT!

• with you, it's different. your love has a way of breaking down those walls, brick by brick, until there's nothing left but the raw, truth of his heart

• there are moments when his longing is so palpable, you can practically feel it in the air

• “if you don’t kiss me right now, I might actually die”

• but his other love language definitely lies in words of affirmation

• oh, brother

• "i’m not staring, i’m admiring”

• his heart spills over with praise and admiration for you, often beyond measure. he has this habit of gushing uncontrollably about you to anyone who will listen—be it his family, friends, or even strangers. they have all fall victim to some extent

• there was one time where he considered buying you flowers and ended up going on a tangent about every aspect he finds fit about you

• the poor florist could barely get a word in edgewise, they were undoubtedly relieved to see him finally leave their shop

• but who could blame him?? he adores you! loves you, even! it’s in his nature

• in short, he loves you, dearly. and he’ll makes sure you know it.

notes; I wrote this in a hurry, i’m sorry. I hope you like it!

[educatedsimps]

— “what would you do if we broke up” tiktok trend w the hq men

≪ back to fics masterlist

hq character x gn!reader

a/n: came across another tiktok and thought "hey let's do this for hq" so here's anther short one while i churn out the longer written reqs HAHA love y'all pls enjoyy

cw: “girl” used to refer to reader as in like “girl what?” or “girl please” kinda context, some swearing, humour??

The trend:

“Ask me what I’d do if we broke up,” you perched on the edge of the sofa where he sat, innocently scrolling on his phone.

With confusion written all over his face, he looked between you and the camera several times before asking, “Wha... why would we break up?”

Hearing the hint of sadness in his voice, you clarified, “Nonono I’m not breaking up with you, babe, it’s just a tiktok trend. Go on, ask me!”

With one more nudge of encouragement, he relented. Sighing, he asked, “What would you do if we broke up?”

And without a second of hesitation, you answered with a shit-eating grin on your face, “I’d get back with my ex.”

The reaction:

“same lmao” ↳ SUNA AND KUROO 😭😭

the most offended ones - hand to chest with a dramatic gasp, then screams “BABE WTF?!” then gets all petty and pouty saying “i’d do the same thing” ↳ atsumu, oikawa

replica of iwa's face when oikawa asked him “iwa-chan, are you my mom?” ↳ IWA LMAO, suga, yaku, all the chaotic hq moms tbh like can u imagine

gives you the most disappointed dad look ever as if he’s saying “girl pls” then continues w his shit but is a lil hurt ngl like u better apologise later 😭 ↳ daichi, kita

will cry in a corner. u better give him a hug and apologise 🤧 ↳ hinata, noya, bokuto, asahi, yamaguchi, lev, goshiki

will glare at you then turn his nose up with a "tch" (he's just jealous tbh) ↳ tsukki, futakuchi, kenma, shirabu

confused, a lil offended, dumbfounded, then even more confused. The Man Was Too Stunned To Speak like how dare you do this to him 😀 ↳ kags, ushi, osamu, probably asahi before he starts tearing up, kenma before he gets petty

“WHAT” and jumps like three feet into the air like a cartoon character ↳ tanaka, tendo

*sighs* “i understand” ↳ akaashi (he's too tired to think so he just takes it at face level ahjdjdhjv), aone 😭💔

"with me, right?" ↳ sakusa cuz he's prolly seen the trend before (yves has a hc that he’s secretly chronically online), also kita after giving it a bit of thought HAHA

The aftermath:

“You’d be my ex, dumbass,” you giggled.

mentally facepalms himself, probably blushing and laughing to himself then hugs you and gives u kisses all while agreeing with u wholeheartedly 🥰 ↳ suga, yaku, daichi AND AKAASHI BC I DEF DIDNT FORGET ABOUT HIM

“pfft i knew that lmao” these mfs are too proud to admit that they were fooled ↳ atsumu, oikawa, suna, futakuchi

grumpy "i knew that..." man ↳ osamu, iwa, tsukki, kenma, shirabu

“OH YEAHHHHH” and they’re overjoyed. ↳ bokuto, hinata, tanaka, noya, tendo, goshiki, lev

"oh yeah that's right..." moment of clarity kinda thing ↳ asahi, aone, ushi, kags, yams

“u owe me kisses for emotional damage” + pouty + clingy ↳ kuroo, atsumu and oikawa after they stop pouting and whining n shit

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarise any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[celestie0]

Are we gonna have smut in ihm soon?🤭

man it’s really fuckin disappointing and sad to spend 10 hrs out of my week to try to create a meaningful story, one that resonates a lot with me and the things i’ve been through in my life, one that i hope my readers can resonate with and see themselves in, just to get asks like this.

like, picture this. you get super excited to write this story of yours, you plan aaaaaall these secondary plot lines, introduce new characters, create different character dynamics, try to include scenes that strengthen relationships with already existing character dynamics. plan out an ENTIRE story on paper (my ideas doc ALONE for ihm has 13k+ words) and try to leave subtle clues here and there in your chapters to support a build up of tensions that’ll lead to a payoff later on in the series. oh, and this is just the planning part. did you know that it takes the average person 1-2 hrs to write 1k words? the last ihm chapter was 14.1k words. go ahead and do the math, and try to figure out how long it must’ve taken me to write it. without even counting the time spent i spent editing it.

i know that this fandom is so horny brainrot fucked up to the nines, i’ve sincerely never seen a fandom that needs to touch grass more than the jjk fandom. and admittedly, i am also super excited to write more smut in my stories! sex is fuckin cool n sexy! but let me just get one thing straight to you horny anons that send me asks like this: my stories are STORIES first and foremost. they are not VESSELS for your FANTASIES. they are not PORN with PLOT. they are my stories, that i write drawing from my real life experiences. and, hey, news flash, they mean a fuckin lot to me! i’m assuming you didn’t do the math on the 14.1k word chapter thing, but i’ll tell you right now: it took me maybe 20 hours to write ch3 of ihm. something that probs took you 1 hour to read, and then ten seconds to send me this ask. surely your tonedeaf brain can at least understand that i wouldn’t spend that much fuckin’ time writing something if it was just supposed to be porn with plot.

listen, i know that i’m not the best writer. i understand that, after reading all of this, you might be thinking “shut the fuck up bitch, your writing aint alla that for me to respect you. we only care about the smut, don’t you understand?” that’s valid. i’ll respect that. i never claimed to be a great author, or deserving of anything meaningful from you in return. ultimately, it’s my choice to spend the time that i do writing, no one’s forcing me, and i would never expect people to support me either (although i am always infinitely grateful for it and tbh the support is what keeps me writing). but what i don’t deserve is to be sent careless asks that make me feel like you see no purpose in my stories other than sex. other than smut. other than a penis going inside a fucking vagina.

anon, you know what would make me excited to continue writing my story? excited to get to the parts where characters ARE intimate with one another? is if you maybe threw in something as simple as a fuckin “hey i loved that part in ihm ch3 where [x]. thought it was a cool thing to do. btw, looking forward to the smut!” would’ve taken you a solid 30 seconds. it just took me 30 seconds to type that. or? you know what else you can do? go sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and spend 20+ hrs writing a 14k+ oneshot on the smut that you so badly wanna see. it’s your choice. really! i mean it. go be the change you wanna see in this world.

i have never once felt like i deserved any of the support that i’ve gotten. idk how to write pretty prose. or moving stories. i read some other people’s work on this app and i’m genuinely gobsmacked by how talented they are and constantly think how shitty my writing is in comparison. but my thing is that i am at least trying my best to write stories that people feel worthy of reading, because i feel like that’s the kind of respect that an audience deserves. i am trying my best to put my character and integrity into things that i write, even if what i produce ends up falling flat or doesn’t come across. but this ask isn’t an isolated issue. this issue has come up multiple times in the time i’ve had my blog, where people just reduce my stories down to smut smut smut smut smut when are we gonna get smut when are they gonna fuck write more smut in kickoff you should make ihm couple fuck like rabbits in the next chapter oh we better see them do [redacted redacted redacted] or else imma [redacted redacted redacted]. my fics are literally TAGGED with "slow burn romance"...i am fully transparent about it. and while i’ve also gotten so many meaningful heartfelt reactions to my stories (which, btw, were tastefully horny…yes, there is a way to send an author an ask that is tastefully horny while also appreciating their work!! insane wild concept!! /sarcasm), unfortunately these bad interactions will always stick.

like. would you ask someone you knew irl that was writing a novel, when they're gonna write the smut for it? would you tell them to hurry tf up and finish their novel just so that you can read the smut? would you send them your smut fantasies and be like "include this in your novel for ME because I want it "? no. because they'd think you're creepy n weird asf n overbearing then drop you. so why is it okay to do that to an author on tumblr? what happened to manners? what happened to decorum? especially for creators who are making you content for FREE.

if i was an author that wrote purely smut oneshots, i’d maybe kinda sorta understand (still think it's wrong asf, regardless of the content of stories that you write). but i feel like, after the 200k+ words that i’ve poured into my two stories (including the chapters i’ve written that i haven’t yet released) where it’s CLEARLY evident that these stories are much more than smut, i’d think that i deserve treatment a little bit better than this.

i’m done. i’m done trying to be nice. i’m done just silently deleting rude asf asks because i don’t wanna cause a scene. i’m done worrying about hurting people’s feelings, when I’M the one that is getting my feelings hurt while you just get to hide behind an anon.

i. am. just. fucking. done.

[cryobabyy]

I think something that makes the bear so compelling is its dedication to showing complex and realistic interpersonal relationship. With s3, it’s obvious that despite Carmy’s misguided efforts to right his wrongs, he is still falling short. Being unable to do right by yourself prevents you from doing right by others. Sydney and Carmy are in the negatives because Carmy isn’t personally and emotionally evolved enough to nurture a successful partnership right now. He’s so in his head that he’s unaware of the damage he’s inflicting on his and Syd’s relationship. And Sydney is is too scared to admit that she’s unhappy. Two people can care so much about eachother, but unable to work it out. This is the unfortunate reality of this kind of dysfunction in relationships. If someone is not getting their needs met, they either move on or grow to resent the other person. It’s sad, and it’s even worse when you still care about the person but it’s just not working out. It’s a seriously complex story to tell and I can’t wait to see where they take it. I personally think Carmy needs to fail. His career has been on an upwards trajectory, and something like a bad review and losing his partner might be enough to disrupt the emotional gridlock he’s in. Some separation will do both of them good. Carmy needs to heal his relationship with the kitchen, and Sydney needs an environment where she can grow. I think a lot of times audiences can get caught up in the tunnel vision of fandom and be feel disappointed by where the story is going. But tbh, I’m impressed with the direction storer is steering towards. I appreciate the fact that he’s not making Sydney a slave to Carmy’s dysfunction in the name of “soul mates” or “twin flames”. That’s real life. People have options. They move on. They grow apart. People get left behind. Don’t be discouraged though! Tribulations and separation makes relationships come back stronger. Hang in there sydcarmies 🥺🫶🏽

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 7)

au masterlist

y/ndevils00

liked by ehaula, lhughes_06, and 232,641 others

y/ndevils00 well… that’s Devils hockey

tonight we lost 3-4 to the desert dogs, losing out on the ever coveted second point in a shootout

uncle u-haula got put in timeout, but he played rock paper scissors with me while he was in there, so i’m giving him some leeway… even though he beat me 4 times 😑

my sweet blonde from ikea land got TWO goals tonight! TWO! I’M SO PROUD OF MY JESPER THE FRIENDLY GHOST!

and my favorite sandwich: ham, got a goal!! YOU GO, GIRL!! POP OFF!

we had a staggering 16 penalty minutes tonight, including 2 penalties from idiot number 2, and LUKEY’S FIRST NHL PENALTY!! CONGRATULATIONS SMUSH, YOU’RE AN NHL PLAYER!!! IT REALLY IS A BUSINESS NOW!

my boyfriend chose to disappoint me tonight, he got no penalties… thanks babe 😐

captain slut struck again tonight! bending over like… well, you guys get it 🤭

and finally, the holy duo sums up my faces during this game!

good luck on monday, boys! seems like you need it!

tagged ehaula, jesperbratt, dougieham, john.marino97, lhughes_06, and nicohischier

Load more comments

jackhughes i got an assist on all of our goals tonight…. i got THREE points!

y/ndevils00 yeah, and no penalties! disappointing!

jackhughes why do i even try

y/ndevils00 i’ve been wondering the same thing tbh

user92 someone please give me a relationship like jack and y/n!

john.marino97 did i at least make you happy with my penalties?

y/ndevils00 no. we needed you and you decided to relax for 4 minutes

john.marino97 I DIDN’T DECIDE TO? I HAD NO CHOICE

y/ndevils00 disappointing. very.

lhughes_06 i’m sorry for getting a penalty, i didn’t mean to!

y/ndevils00 don’t apologize for anything, smush! you did great! i loved your penalty!

john.marino97 WHAT?!

john.marino97 HE GETS A PENALTY AND YOU COMPLIMENT HIM, BUT I GET A PENALTY AND YOU WHIP ME WITH A TOWEL AND TELL ME TO “PULL MY SHIT TOGETHER” ?!

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 this isn’t about you. god, so self-centered

john.marino97 i give up

user65 y/n and john are the epitome of tough love

dawson1417 when did i make that face?! do i make that face a lot?!

y/ndevils00 definitely a fair amount

dawson1417 oops

y/ndevils00 no oops, that face was warranted!

nicohischier why?

y/ndevils00 because i can!

nicohischier well you shouldn’t

y/ndevils00 why not? :(

nicohischier oh. no sad face please

y/ndevils00 :(

nicohischier damnit. you can.

y/ndevils00 :)

ehaula it’s not my fault you suck at rock paper scissors!

y/ndevils00 i do not!

ehaula you always choose paper!

y/ndevils00 psychology class told me men like to choose rock! psychology lied to me!

ehaula i don’t think you can blame psychology for you choosing paper 6 times in a row

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 you’re smart! tell him it can!

john.marino97 um.. it can? i guess?

user17 john in the box… i love bad boys

dougieham i popped off! 🤪

y/ndevils00 HELL YEAH YOU DID!!

jesperbratt i’m proud of you too!!

jackhughes what are you proud of HER for? taking pictures?

jesperbratt yeah!

y/ndevils00 oh 🥹

y/ndevils00 please adopt me

jackhughes dove, you have parents

y/ndevils00 yeah, jesper and nicole now!

jackhughes i’m telling your mom

y/ndevils00 please don’t! she’ll ground me!

jackhughes you’re 22 years old?

y/ndevils00 okay, and? are you not still afraid of your mother at 22?

jackhughes NO?!

y/ndevils00 oh

y/ndevils00 just me then?

jackhughes just you, baby

[trianna-phoenix]

Finally colored it with my new markers

I’ll be honest I’m a little disappointed, they’re the shuffle art 280 pack and for the price I was hoping for better quality, but not only are the markers made of cheap plastic but they’re chisel tip.

And they’re very strange, like they bleed a lot even on the designed marker paper but they also don’t layer like normal alcohol markers, they just kinda bleed into the old layer which gives it a very messy look. You can see it best on the blue part of the cape, as the colors would just sit there.

I’m not the best at art but I think it’s safe to say these markers aren’t the best out there, kinda sad tbh

[chthonicarcher]

Hello!! I've been a fan of your art and writing for a while now, and I wanted you to know your works a big inspiration and comfort to me!! Anywho, thoughts on Davebot and Commander Vantas :]

first of all, wow, thank you so much!! that’s so kind <3

mkay so...

the thing is,

sigh. so. okay.

okay listen—

OKAY THE FIRST THING I GOTTA SAY, and I mean this ought to go *without* saying but I’m still just going to say it: this is all JUST MY OPINION!! it’s subjective, I’m not saying other people are wrong just bc we may happen to disagree about this!

TO BE HONEST WITH YOU, though, I only really engage with “beyond canon” or “dubious canon” or “post-canon” content in the way I’m doing right here, which is to say, drawing silly requests to dress up CKat as Hatsune Miku or whatever. or sometimes drawing something featuring meat or candy DaveKat specifically for my dear friend bug, who loves the epilogues and HS2, and still has a lot of hope for a happy DaveKat ending in *both* timelines. (love you bug, love your optimism, and I hope for your sake that HS2 doesn’t disappoint!)

because **MY** opinion of all that is that it sucks and shouldn’t exist, lol. sorry!! I hate its very existence! I ignore it and I mostly avoid it because it upsets me deeply, and I only engage (very shallowly) with the elements I can fully get behind, which usually means “cool outfits” or “cool designs.” Davebot looks real cool, man! that’s about all I can say about him without wanting to vomit!! his very existence makes me sad as fuck and I hate it, idk what else to tell you. I hate that even though that story goes out of its way to point out how non-canon it is, just by nature of being an officially sanctioned product it kinda IS canon, and the fans sure treat it that way, and I’m not even saying they’re wrong. if Hussie wanted the epilogues to actually be treated like fanfic maybe they shouldn’t’ve attached their name, man, idk.

anyway, I know drawing CKat and Davebot as just silly little guys without actually fully engaging with/reading post-canon sorta makes me part of “the problem,” like those “fans” of Homestuck who don’t understand it at all bc they HAVEN’T READ IT yet insist on making art about it that misunderstands the characters? but tbh I just don’t like or respect post-canon stuff in the same way I like and respect the original work. to me it is fanfic, and not even like a good one that I would bookmark or download a PDF of, lol. sorry if this disappoints you! I still think the designs are cool ✌️

[theteasetwrites]

The Wrinkle

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9/10 Interim (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: very vaguely sexual if you squint (just some kissing and a butt grab) ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

❧ Summary: Aging is a natural part of life, but when you notice a wrinkle, it's hard not to be a little sad. Your husband, however, reminds you that you're still just as beautiful, and so is your wrinkle.

❧ A/N: Another oneshot that takes place in the same universe as my series because I am procrastinating writing the last chapters 😀 (but tbh this fic also works as a standalone piece because I didn't really reference anything that happens in the series). I just want to keep writing for them forever, you know? Anywho, I was inspired by all the anti-aging talk on social media I've been seeing lately. People have always been obsessed with looking young, and skincare companies often profit off that insecurity, which is something I've been thinking about a lot. I haven't seen anything where the Reader is a little insecure about her aging, so why not write a comfort fic about that? Aging is beautiful, btw. 💕

Honey, olive oil, aloe, oats…

You’d tried everything, every natural ingredient you could get your hands on. Every moisturizer you made seemed to work on some level—your skin was always soft, at least. The dryness was quenched, and, most importantly, you were happy with your face, for perhaps the first time in your life. 

Happy, until one night, you saw it. 

“Oh, God,” you gasped, leaning over the bathroom sink as you rubbed in your moisturizer just the same way you did every night. Tonight, though, was different. By the light of the lantern you’d placed on the shelf beneath the mirror, you saw the smallest sliver of a… You couldn’t even bear to think of the word. 

It was a line, near the outer corner of your eye. It curved downwards slightly, representing the movement of your cheek when you smiled. Only now, you weren’t smiling. You were frowning in disappointment at the image in the mirror. How could you be getting crow’s feet at this age? You were still young, weren’t you? Aren’t I? 

“Everythin’ okay in there?” Daryl’s voice called out from the bedroom, just beyond the door. “Been in there a while, hon.”

“Fine.” Not fine. “Just moisturizing.” Lots of good it does.

“Well, hurry up, woman,” he teased. “I gotta take a piss.”

You scoffed, turning the copper knob of the door with a slippery, oily hand. “Come in,” you sighed. “I’m almost done anyway.” You turned back to face the mirror, dabbing another few fingertips worth of moisturizing cream. 

He shook his head as he watched you meticulously massaging the concoction until it was completely absorbed by your skin. It was always a fascinating sight. He never understood it completely, but just as you allowed him to engage in his interests, he allowed you yours. Still, he couldn’t help but think sometimes you cared too much about looking pretty, when to him, you didn’t need to put any effort in at all. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, placing a rather drawn out kiss upon your shoulder, where the skin was exposed by your thin strapped nightie. His hand rubbed your other shoulder, taking his opportunity to feel how naturally soft you were, even without moisturizer. 

You offered a reluctant smile as you looked back at him in the mirror. “Thank you… I don’t feel like it.”

Now that baffled him. You’d never been very confident in yourself, he knew that. You were alike in that way. It was tiresome for him, though. He knew your beauty better than anyone, and for you to not see it was heartbreaking. Then again, you felt the same way when he refused to accept his beauty. You were both much too humble for your own good.

Still behind you, he swept back a handful of your hair, revealing the supple flesh of your neck. “Why not?” he asked, then gave himself the pleasure of tasting your neck with his gentle, slightly ticklish lips. That always made you feel better. Usually.

“I—I… just found a wrinkle.”

Detaching his lips, he looked up at you to furrow his brow. As he searched your face, each curve and line so familiar to him, he couldn’t see anything had changed. 

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, girl?”

You reached over to turn up the flame in the lantern, brightening the small bathroom. “Look.” You pointed to the spot just at the corner of your eye. “A little wrinkle, right by my eye.”

Squinting didn’t help. He leaned forward, still trying to see what the hell you were so worried about. Finally, he pinpointed the vague, shallow line, almost more like a little shadow that stood on its own. It was hardly anything to him.

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “That ain’t a wrinkle.” He ran his hand through the hair on his scalp to pull back his bangs, putting his face completely on display for you. “You wanna see wrinkles? Looky here.”

Only Daryl could make you snort when you felt like feeling sorry for yourself. “Stop,” you laughed. “You hardly have any wrinkles. Besides, you’re older than me anyway. I’m only thirty-two.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And you got no damn wrinkles. Even if ya did, you’d still be a stone cold fox, so just believe me when I say you’re the most beautiful damn woman in the world, okay?” 

Though you were sure you’d never believe that, it did feel terribly good to know Daryl still found you attractive. It was ingrained in you to want, to need, approval from men, and it took you a long time to get out of that mindset. Hell, it was still there to an extent, but Daryl was the only man whose approval you cared about now, only because you knew he’d never break your heart or take advantage of that trust you put in him.

“Daryl,” you laughed, your cheeks filled with a hot blush at his words. “Thank you, but—”

When his hands cupped your cheeks, his gaze softened, as if to make sure you knew what he was doing. Of course, you did. He kissed you, his lips enjoying the taste of your natural moisturizer. A small whimper from you melted into his mouth like candy on his tongue, while your arms tangled loosely around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you. 

You always loved the feeling of his warm, strong hands upon your hips, gently squeezing the soft flesh there. He’d often lower his right hand, using it to squeeze your bottom, always making you squeak softly against his lips. 

“Oh!” you laughed. He was so predictable. “Stop it!” You playfully slapped at his bare chest, with little to no strength in your flimsy hands. Because he knew you weren’t serious, he squeezed a little more, causing you to stand on your tippy toes and gasp a little more. If anyone could distract you from your little insecurities, it was Daryl. 

His lips poked at every little spot of skin on your face, which was scrunched up in faux annoyance. Your laugh, and your wide, toothy grin, were proof enough that his wild, impromptu kisses and less than innocent bottom-squeezes were working like a charm. 

“What am I gonna do with you, angel?” he asked, his lips becoming tired and his mouth beginning to downturn in a sudden expression of seriousness. His weather-worn fingers lifted your hair from your face, pinning it back behind your ears. There was an unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Only you knew the extent of his sensitivity, his ability to feel what you felt. When you told him that you don’t feel beautiful, it killed him. “What do I gotta do to make ya see how perfect you are?”

You sighed as you watched your own hands absentmindedly rub his broad shoulders, the smattering of freckles all over them always a comfort to you. Many nights you’d lay in his arms, just counting them as his low, gravelly voice lulled you into a deep, warm sleep. 

“Just hold me,” you said. “That makes me feel beautiful, being close to you.”

That smile of his always melted you, had you like putty in his hands. It was small and a little lopsided, and you could only see a sliver of his wide, slightly jagged teeth, but it was like your life force. Seeing him smile, seeing him happy, for just one minute, meant everything to you. Of all people you’d ever met, he deserved, more than anyone, to be happy. That was your job. 

“All right, pretty girl.” He pulled you close once again to press a small kiss to your forehead. “I’ll hold ya.” Just like he did every night. Still, you could never get enough of it.

“But first,” he added, letting go of you, “I gotta take a piss.”

He was always so romantic.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

[gorgonwrites]

bound to you, (part 5)

diluc x fem!reader

wc: 3, 178

author's note: a woman scorned is the most dangerous creature in all of Teyvat. all aboard the angsty express!!

CW: fem! reader, angst, hurt/comfort ig??, diluc WILL run away from you and his feelings if you let him, reader is lowkey a crybaby, oral (male receiving), temperature play sorta kinda, switch! diluc vibes, switch!reader, mentions of diluc having pretty bad anxiety, reader is a badass tbh. WHY IS DILUC SO EMO UGH. also i forgot horses aren't really a thing in genshin but just indulge me here ok

Diluc couldn’t sleep. The events of the last few hours were playing on a loop in his head, and he could feel his anxiety raising its ugly head to greet him. He was convinced he had gone too far this time. Birds faintly began chirping outside his window, signaling him to get out of bed. He sat on the edge, turning back to catch a glimpse of your sleeping frame. You were completely sprawled out, his blanket tangled between your legs from your constant tossing and turning. He reached his hand out to brush your jaw, but stopped himself. 

He was a man starved of affection and he knew it was his own doing. He convinced himself long ago that he was to walk a path of perpetual unhappiness in his life. The loneliness he felt hardly bothered him until the proposal of his marriage to you was finalized and you marched into his life. You had quickly revived the winery, his staff, and ultimately him as well. After agreeing to marry you so he could cement new intelligence contacts in Fontaine, falling for you didn’t even cross his mind. Yet here you were, in his bed sleeping peacefully after he practically begged you to let him love you. This is getting dangerous. He wasn’t the type of man to run away, and he couldn’t think of much that actually scared him. But he couldn’t deny the fear simmering in his chest. He quietly got dressed, working slowly so he didn’t wake you. The sky was just beginning to light and with one last quick look at your sleeping face, he left his room and closed the door gently behind him. 

You were woken up gently by the sunlight streaming in through Diluc’s window and onto your face. You basked in its warmth for a moment, last night’s endeavor hazily playing through your mind. You gently reached your arm out expecting to feel your husband’s warm body next to you, but it met the mattress instead. You turned over to realize you were alone in the room and you sat up with a start. You sat for a moment taking the room in bit by bit, and recalled Adelinde once telling you that Diluc was an extremely early riser. You were not, and decided that he had left the room to let you sleep through the early morning peacefully. 

“Master Diluc had business at Angel’s Share today, I believe.” you sat once again at the breakfast table, dumbfounded. Adelinde was clearing the dishes when you finally asked her if she had seen your husband.

“But he said he didn’t have anything to do for the next few weeks.” you said flatly, trying to hide your disappointment from her. You felt lied to.

“Sometimes things come up at the tavern suddenly. Rather than ask another employee to ride into town to cover, he does it himself if he’s home. It keeps him busy.” she looked at you apologetically, catching onto the distress that was building underneath your skin. 

“But,” you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, “I’m here. We could keep ourselves busy together.” the tears started spilling down your cheeks and Adelinde rushed to your side, dabbing at your face with a handkerchief. 

“Don’t let this make you unhappy, my Lady.” she whispered, “Give him time.” you snatched the handkerchief and quickly pushed yourself from the table, startling her. You stood up and looked at her with bloodshot eyes.

“Do not mistake my tears for sadness, Adelinde. I am angry. I feel like I take two steps towards him and he takes seven steps away from me. I don’t know how much longer my heart can handle the nonsense he continues to display.” wiping your tears, you continued. “Did he say when he would return?”

“No , my Lady, he rarely ever does. I’d suspect that since he’s at the Tavern that he’ll be back tonight.” Good. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind. Innocent intentions or not, he continued to break the promises he made you without warning. You were his wife, yes, and you mostly did what was asked of you. But he was your husband, and you were done letting him run away from you.

It was close to midnight, and you had been sitting by the front door of the manor for hours. Your arms crossed against your chest, you stared aimlessly out of the window waiting to see your husband’s figure appear out of the darkness. When he never came, your anger began to boil just under the surface. Without thinking, you pulled your cloak off of the hook across from you and threw it over your shoulders. You’d drag him back if you had to. You quietly made your way out to the stables to saddle up your favorite horse. Adelinde came sprinting out of the manner wearing only her nightdress and a robe, reaching you as you mounted your horse. 

“My Lady! My Lady it’s too dark for you to be out right now, just the other day Elzer and the boys had to clear out a nearby hilichurl camp. We don’t know if they’re all gone yet-” you scoffed, realizing no one treated you competently here at the winery. 

“I am not a child, Addy,” you hissed, “I am the Lady of this house and I will go where I please, when I please. My husband seems to do that quite often. Maybe I can learn a thing or two if I adopt that habit of his.” she backed away from you. You caught yourself, not wanting to take your anger out on her. “I’m going to find Master Diluc, Adelinde. If I fail, you will help me gather my belongings and I will be headed back to Fontaine by dawn. Am I clear?” she shook her head, frozen in place. “Good.” 

Diluc slumped over the counter at Angel’s Share, exhausted, and watched as Charles continued to clean the tavern before leaving. He had spent the whole day there wrestling with his emotions, trying to logically work through each of them. Keeping himself busy always helped him manage his anxiety. This time, though, it felt like it was eating him alive. He felt as though something had dislodged in his chest and was rapidly trying to claw its way out, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in place. As he began to reorganize the liquor behind the counter to prepare for the following day, a commotion began outside. Groaning, he started towards the door to handle the situation. The door flew open before he was halfway there though, and he was met with your wild, fiery gaze. Your hair was a mess and you had several fresh cuts on your arms, and it looked like you’d been caught in a late summer rain shower because you were soaked. 

“Y/n?” Diluc felt his anxiety melt away, quickly being replaced by anger rising  in his chest. Only the Gods knew what creatures were crawling in the shadows on your way here, and he felt something finally snap inside of him. 

“What the Hell are you doing here? Why are you not at home?” he could feel his face getting hot, desperately trying to control his tongue. 

“That’s Lady y/n to you, young Master.” you hissed. “I’m here to drag my husband home where he belongs.” you were out of breath, and your tone sent a dagger through Diluc’s chest. You straightened up and brushed the dirt from your dress, trying to put up an icy wall to resist how seeing your husband made you feel. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and you could tell he was getting angry. 

“Continuing to push my boundaries, I see.” his voice sounded labored, like he was exerting a generous amount of self control. “You think it’s a game, but look at you! What happened?” That’s what he was concerned about? His rules? You scoffed in response, throwing your arms in the air.

“You’re concerned about rules right now, Master Diluc? About controlling your little wife? Don’t make me laugh.” tears were stinging your eyes and you tried desperately to not let them fall. “Here I thought you were concerned about me, that maybe you were beginning to care for me. I see now that you’re more interested in keeping me in a cage like a pet, only taking me out when it suits you.” your voice was shaky. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, do you? I’m not a child! You’d know that I’m much more powerful than you realize if you would just take the time to ask. I dealt with three Godsdamned hilichurls on the way here, and got rid of an Abyss mage at the gates because the knights on guard weren’t capable enough.”  Diluc stared at you, speechless. He had underestimated you, yes. But it didn’t change that this marriage put you at a greater risk than a few hilichurls and a lone Abyss mage. 

“Have you ever bothered to ask me why I have tried to set these boundaries with you?” he whispered. You were about to spit your anger at him again, but stopped and realized that you had indeed never asked him the reasoning behind his rules. “No, you haven’t. I’d divulge every detail if it meant you’d stop pushing my limits every damned day. But you’ve never asked. Not once. You don’t know a damn thing about the life that I’ve lived or the world that I know. Don’t pretend that you’d last more than a day.” his voice was rising with each sentence, and he was still desperately trying to control himself. You were right in front of him in an instant, jabbing your finger into his broad chest. 

“That’s what I came to your chambers for last night, you know! I want every detail that you’re willing to give me. Everything! But instead, you spent half the damn night asking, no, begging me to let you love me.” you could feel the tears start to fall but you continued, “You confuse me! And I don’t know how much more I can withstand. I’m too lonely and restless here. There’s so much of this nation I have yet to see because you’re always gone and I never leave the estate. If I take one step towards you and our marriage, you take three leaps away from me with no regard to how it may make me feel.” you could feel Diluc’s hands wrapping around you but you pulled away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. 

“You don’t deserve love from a man like me. And I don’t deserve the kindness you show me.” he whispered, staring at the floor. His anger was fading now, replaced as always by his ever present anxiety. It was clawing its way out of his chest and he could feel it reaching every inch of his body, and he felt like he was falling. You sighed and pushed your damp hair out of your face. Was he always going to be this stubborn? 

“You don’t get to make that decision for me, Diluc. I show kindness to those I care for. Do not rob me of yet another choice to make.” to your surprise, your voice was softening. “And I think I know more than you give me credit for.” Diluc’s eyes snapped to yours, his brows furrowing. “I- I snooped a little in your room this afternoon. I found the journal you kept while you were in Snezhnaya.” you looked away from your husband, unsure of how he’d react to you going through his personal belongings. 

“And you still came to find me after reading all of that?” his voice was the one shaking now, making you look at him again. He had a pained look on his face. “I didn’t want you to know that side of me. And I didn’t want you wrapped up in any of the intelligence work I do. I don’t want you to be exposed to that side of this world.” that made you smile. Silly man. He obviously had no idea what family you came from, and had no grasp on the network your father had built between each of the seven nations of Teyvat. Maybe he knew a bit, and you knew that it was part of your marriage agreement. 

“You don’t need to shelter me, you know.” you cooed, reaching up to brush his face with your fingers. “I know much more about this world than you realize. I’m not someone that needs such fierce protection either.” you stood up on your tiptoes and gently grabbed the back of Diluc’s neck, forcing him to bend so you could place a gentle kiss on his cheek. Your anger was quickly evaporating, and was being replaced by overwhelming arousal. He groaned at the contact, placing his hands on your hips and kissing your neck. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” you whispered into his ear. He straightened up immediately, removing his hands from your hips only to bring one to his face to hide how red he was. You snickered. It was your turn to take care of your husband. “Oh, and Charles?” you looked over your shoulder, “You may go now. Thank you so much for the work that you do. I’ll see to it that you receive a small bonus for the trouble tonight.” you smiled, and the man behind you scurried out of the door instantly. 

“Fuck. I forgot he was here.” Diluc breathed, not taking his eyes off of you. “We can stay here tonight. I- I have a spare room upstairs that I use from time to time when I’m too tired to ride back to the manor.” finally he was speaking with some sense. You nodded, and began gently pushing him towards the back door. For a man claiming to be too cruel to deserve your love, he felt like putty in your hands. He led you upstairs to a quaint room that overlooked the courtyard beside the tavern, and you gently pulled at his shoulders so he sat at the edge of the bed in front of you. You reached behind him to let his hair down and pushed it out of his face. He sighed and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes to savor the moment.

“I don’t deserve you.” he whispered. You rolled your eyes and tightly gripped his jaw to make him look at you. 

“You think too much. Has anyone ever told you that?” you smiled, teasing him with the same sentiment he shared with you yesterday afternoon. He wrapped his arms around you, pushing his face into your chest in hopes that you wouldn’t see his reddened cheeks. You card your hands through his long hair, pressing your lips to the crown of his head. “Let me take care of you tonight.” You push your husband back and reach for his hands. Bringing one to your lips, you hold Diluc’s gaze as you remove his glove and kiss his palm. You do the same with the other and then begin unbuttoning his coat. He watches you in careful silence, letting you work. When you lift his shirt off of him, he finally speaks. 

“You don’t have to do this, angel. And I want to clean up your arms- I’m worried about those cuts.” you looked at your arms. They were fresh cuts from your run in with the hilichurls, yes, but they weren’t deep. You’d actually forgotten about them, and you knew he was trying to distract you. 

“That won’t work this time,” you continued undressing him, reaching for his belt. “And I can feel just how excited you are.” your hand slid down to palm the bulge in his pants, immediately making your husband suck in a shaky breath. “That’s what I thought.” He reached out to you to cup the side of your face but you batted his hand away. “Hands to yourself. No touching.” a whine escaped from Diluc’s lips as he brought his hand back to his side. 

“You’re not being fair, angel.” you’d never seen him pout before. He looked like a spoiled child and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s my turn to make the rules.” as the words left your lips, you released his cock from his trousers. It bobbed in place, wet precum already dripping from the tip. Diluc’s breathing became increasingly labored as he anticipated your touch. You knelt between his spread legs, not looking away from your husband’s length. There was no way you’d fit the entire thing in your mouth and you began to imagine yourself bouncing up and down your husband’s cock, filled to the brim. Grabbing the base, you gave the tip a small lick. Diluc let out a delicious moan, throwing his head back. 

That reaction was all you needed. You gripped his cock with both hands and began moving them up and down, dragging groans and whines from Diluc as you worked. You opened your mouth and began suckling at the tip, swirling your tongue around to lap up the precum that continued to spill over. Your husband’s breathing began to quicken and he couldn’t keep still. You reached out to pinch his side, signaling that you’d stop if he didn’t behave. He let out another half-choked whimper, stilling underneath you. You stopped to look up at him.

“Good boy.” he couldn’t stop the strangled cry that left his mouth, falling backwards onto the bed. You continued to work his cock with your hands and mouth relentlessly, sending him closer and closer to the edge. 

“I can’t angel, I’m about to-” you cut him off. 

“You can.” he yelped when your fingertips went cold, sending goosebumps across his skin. You wrapped your lips around his cock again and reached your hands up to his chest. His breath hitched, trying not to shrink away from your frozen touch. 

“Y/n I can’t, oh Gods-” Diluc sounded frantic. “Gonna come, fuck-” your hands shot back down to the base of his cock and you sped up. With a loud cry Diluc grabbed a fistful of your hair and fucked into your face, his load shooting down the back of your throat. His movement slowed and you let his now softening cock fall from your mouth, strings of saliva connecting your lips and the tip. You let go of his length, content and tired. As you rose to your feet and turned towards the washbasin to grab something to clean your husband up, he roughly grabbed your waist and pulled you back, shoving you onto the bed underneath him. He was on you instantly, attacking your neck and any exposed skin that was available to him. You gasped in response, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“My turn.” he growled in your ear,  sending a shockwave straight to your core.

I AM SO SORRY FOR THE END i was worried this part was getting too long!! i am working on part six at this very moment!! xx

[fluffypotatey]

I think what gets me is that Wukong might never have been angry at seeing Macaque again after 500 years at all. He just didn't want to hurt his friend, despite the way they left off, and Macaque might've been too blind in his own emotions to listen to that. Maybe that's why even now, he thinks Wukong was right about that. Getting killed? He had it coming. So he looks sad when the the gang apologizes to each other for any wrongs. Because he was in the wrong then. He never did say he was angry over dying, just angry about Wukong's tendencies to treat other people, which they never communicated about to clear up.

hm yeah fascinating take. like even in s1 SWK shows no initial surprise or confusion when Macky reappears in his life. just annoyance and disappointment tbh

we only see him begin to question it in s5 and i honestly think that’s because he never let himself wonder why Macky is here now (and also jfc these monkeys are so bad at communicating with each other. leaving so much unsaid and 🫠)

and tbh i have a feeling neither party feel like they are in the wrong. there’s definitely guilt and a longing to have what they lost before, but in the fight itself, neither probably believe they are 100% in the right but also not 100% in the wrong to apologize. does that make sense?

from how i’m understanding it, Macky was upset bc of SWK receiving pain from the circlet and the fact that he “replaced” him with other friends. SWK is upset bc Macky attacked his master and is forcing him to leave the journey, ignorant to how important this journey is for Wukong. maybe they both called each other selfish, maybe they both called each other blind. but neither of them got the ending they wanted in that fight and both probably regret that

^This is, of course, my idea on how lmk will spin this (AND I AM CROSSING MY FINGERS)

[oh-austin]

previous part / private gf part two

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austinbutlernews LEAKED PICS OF Y/N: These are some pictures of Y/N from her friends IG account!!

austinfan3 she’s actually so pretty

austinfan6 yeah idk why she doesn’t show her face, she could model!

austinfan6 yeah idk why she doesn’t show her face, she could model!

austinfan7 it’s because she doesn’t want to and people need to respect that. take this post down.

austinfan9 austin literally commented on your last post of her asking you to take it down, this is just disgusting at this point

austinfan11 cant even imagine how Y/N feels having these pictures of her around

austinfan13 yeah well her friend posted them obviously she doesn’t care if her face is shown

austinfan16 her friends account is PRIVATE. someone leaked private photos of Y/N and that isn’t okay.

austinfan17 well than maybe Y/N should go private? It’s literally instagram, if you don’t want your face shown- don’t go on the app

austinfan18 she’s dating austin butler, like what does she expect?

austinfan20 to be treated decently?? this is a direct violation of her privacy

austinfan24 you just know austin is pissed

austinfan25 cant imagine how Y/N feels

austinfan27 delete this post and the photos if you have saved them, this isn’t okay

liked by austinfan29 and 8927 others

austinupdates Y/N has turned her account to private and has removed over 1000 people as followers after pictures of her face have been leaked online. If you have the photos, do not share them, do not send them to anyone, do the right thing and delete them.

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austinfan32 I’m so glad she did, she doesn’t deserve this

austinfan33 well she’s dating a celebrity?

austinfan35 yes but just because she’s dating someone with status, doesn’t mean that she asked for her privacy to be exploited- really disappointing from this fan base

yourinstagram thank you ❤️

austinfan36 we love you Y/N

austinfan38 so sorry this is happening to you!

austinfan41 if you see the pictures of Y/N on any platform please report the post!

liked by yourinstagram and 57,828 others

austinbutler so sad to see people invade someone’s privacy with no remorse. don’t post pictures of my girlfriend with her face in them, this is a personal choice that she made years ago- please respect it. if y/n ever wants to post pictures of herself online, she should get to choose which pictures and when they are posted, do not take this choice away from her. very disappointing.

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austin45 YOU DID IT NOW GUYS

austinfan47 you pissed him off, it’s official

austinfan48 delete the pictures if you’ve posted them, delete them if you have them- don’t be a loser

ashleytisdale so upsetting to see a violation of such a gorgeous person and kind soul, please do the right thing

austinfan51 even ashley is disappointed, wow guys

austinfan53 really shows who his true fans are

austinfan55 what so I’m not a true fan of Austin if I have pictures of his stupid girlfriend?

austinfan56 no, you’re not- she made a choice, people haven’t respected it and it’s disgusting really

austinfan58 I’m so sorry this happened to Y/N

austinfan62 this is so unfair to her

zendaya so upsetting to see, all the love to you Y/N

austinfan64 EVEN ZENDAYA IS PISSED, DELETE THE PHOTOS YOU MORONS

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austinupdates austin’s story today after his Instagram post regarding the leaked photos of y/n

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austinfan67 see? not that hard to post photos of her without her FACE BEING SHOWN

austinfan68 she’s actually so effortlessly pretty, just her outfits radiate her good energy

austinfan70 she really is that girl tbh

austinfan72 I hope Y/N unprivates her account soon, I miss her stories! she is so much fun!!

austinfan73 I met her today on set in budapest as an extra and asked if she was alright, she sounded really dejected about the entire thing it was so sad

austinfan75 actually breaks my heart 🥺

austinfan77 austin loves her so much, it’s so beautiful to see

austinfan78 her aesthetic is amazing

yourinstagram thank you for always being so respectful on this account, I really appreciate it 🫶🏼

austinupdates we love you!!!

austinfan80 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

austinfan81 she deserves the best

liked by austinbutler and 527 others

yourinstagram still here..

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austinbutler I love you so much

[nalyra-dreaming]

I’m finding the Rockstar Lestat discussion interesting! Partly that people are saying it would be cringe if set now… as if ‘80’s rock isn’t the cheesiest of all! 😋

Personally, I think Lestat can be a rock star in 2022 (or 2024/5/6 by the time we get to it.)

He only has to do one concert in the end & he isn’t eternally famous or The Most Famous person on the planet. Everyone (human) soon forgets him afterwards… he just has to be famous enough to get a few thousand bodies in a room (a fair amount of them vampires who’ll be there anyway already!) & to make songs/music that would awaken Akasha.

And I think the fact that music stardom is a lesser thing nowadays in a way is a bonus, because while in an era with very defined popular style there are constraints on the musical possibilities that would work, nowadays I think it is totally free so that Lestat could have wondrously weird music… it has to have something vampiric & gothic & rock-based, but I think something really out-there & unusual & unlike any band that exists is better myself, as as well as words relating to Those who must be Kept, the music can be unique enough that it truly would awaken Akasha as she’d never have heard the like before! I want rock violin & rock HARPSICHORD in there myself. And heaviness, yet also influences from the eighteenth century & New Orleans jazz in there! And already Sam has such a unique voice to add to this all!

Yeah, personally I’m really excited by the idea of rock star Lestat!

Book-canonically I can’t imagine Lestat having social media skills, though he’d surely enjoy the popularity! But it’d be so the antithesis of Gothic Romance, I think to go down a more 2020’s fame route would be really sad & disappointing. Also you have Sam’s voice & performance skills to USE! And Lestat’s theatre & music experience & importance to his existence!

I trail off… this isn’t even a question! 😂🤣💀

Anything involving Sam, singing, and performance is going to be fine with me, tbh. 🤪

But yes… glam rock and mesh shirts and leather pants… would definitely be a bonus, ahem 😈

But yes, Lestat was pretty much a one-hit-wonder. IF it happened yet then Akasha didn’t rise…. yet.

Sooooooo. Whatever way they’ll do it - I just hope it will be glorious 🤓 And they are so free for the style!!! I would absolutely adore goth metal and something like Nightwish could fit very well, too, imho.