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#he is very gorgeous to me
artbysjv · 8 months
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Might color later, BUT HE IS SO BABYGIRL!!!!
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saintpavlov · 1 month
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he doesn't mean to make you sad, you know that. it's just that, when atsumu's upset it becomes everyone's problem—yours especially.
you don't know how it starts. atsumu had been bouncing off the walls just a moment ago, drunk off of booze and the afterglow of victory. you don't know which one of his teammates had invited her to the after-party, just that right now, you can't help but hate them.
it's just for a second, but you catch it. the way his eyes immediately dim, how his hand falters around yours. you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's obvious—atsumu's in love with her. painfully so.
he drops your hand as if burnt and turns away, letting himself be carried off into another conversation. atsumu laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, a deafening house mix that thuds through your chest like a second heartbeat. anyone else might not spare him a second glance, but you know that when atsumu laughs that loud there's something he's trying to hide. then, as if remembering that you're still there, atsumu turns over his shoulder. you answer before he can ask the question.
"no no, go ahead. go have fun!"
atsumu tilts his head, though you know he's only asking to be polite. "are you sure?"
you smile. "no worries."
it's a bold-faced lie, but atsumu's never been that good at paying attention. he returns your smile with an excited nod, letting himself be led away by the shoulders. "don't go anywhere!" he shouts, though you know later on he'll forget to come find you. that's the way it always is. always has been.
you nurse your drink against your chest—water, you don't have the stomach tonight—and try to look on the bright side, if there is one. atsumu had been the one to invite you, hadn't he? and though you're still "just friends", he'd held your hand earlier, so that has to count for something, right?
it's useless. you down your water in one go, figuring that if you treat it like alcohol it might work like it is. it doesn't, and now you're alone at this party with an empty cup and an even emptier hand.
you sigh and snake your way out of the kitchen, making your way up the stairs to the first door that opens. the upstairs is off-limits, but you hope that whoever owns this room is drunk enough to be forgiving. you don't even bother to turn on the lights, and instead flop backwards onto the bed. you feel the music downstairs rather than hearing it, a steady thump-thump-thump that shakes through you from head to toe.
you close your eyes, trying very hard not to think about atsumu and the girl he's still in love with downstairs. it's not your place to be bothered, that you know, but something in your chest still aches at the thought. you've loved atsumu since before he met her, after all. it's a shame he hasn't noticed. or maybe he's not noticing on purpose, which is considerably worse.
"woe is me," you say to no one, your voice biting with sarcasm. you're not shocked at how things are turning out, moreso that you thought it'd turn out any differently. with a sigh, you close your eyes. atsumu will find you eventually. and if he doesn't, then someone else will. you'd rather be cursed at for trespassing than anywhere downstairs, faking a smile as you wait for atsumu like a well-trained dog. at least here you can lick your wounds in private.
you don't know how much time has passed when you feel something press into your side, warm and solid. arms wrap around you: one slung over your waist, the other snaking its way under your head. you turn in confusion, seeing nothing in the dark.
whoever's holding you down reeks heavily of liquor, and their arm feels like a dead weight around you. when you try to pull it off they hold onto you tighter, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. "um, hey," you say loudly, voice hoarse with sleep. "get off of me."
the person beside you stirs, and the bed dips slightly as they prop themselves up. they mumble your name under their breath, and in the dark you can make out the vague outline of a face.
with a start, you realize you recognize that voice. "...osamu?"
he lies back down, bringing you along with him. "h-hey," you start to protest, but osamu's grip grows stronger in response.
"don't leave," he mumbles, as you try to sit up.
"but—"
"m'head hurts. shhh." osamu shushes you, curling up against your side. his hair tickles the side of your reddening cheek.
"hey, osamu." you try to move out from under his arm again, to no avail. "you're really drunk."
"and?" he counters, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "just pretend for a little while."
that catches you off guard. "pretend?"
"it's dark, so it's easier," osamu refuses to elaborate. "c'mon. it's my birthday."
"osamu, your birthday's in october."
"is it?" there's an uncharacteristic cheekiness to osamu's voice, one that makes you turn your head towards him in surprise. you can't see him, but you can tell from the warmth that his face is only inches away. "well it's somebody's birthday, somewhere."
something touches your cheek—osamu's hand? no, his face. somewhere near his chin, guessing by the stubble that scratches your skin. "just do me a favor and pretend i'm him," osamu says, and in that moment he sounds scarily sober.
"wh-what?" you can't help the way your mouth hangs open at the request, your stomach feeling like it's about to drop out of you.
"you heard me," osamu mumbles, back to being drunk again. "pretend i'm him. you know what i mean."
"you—what—that's not—"
"am i wrong?" osamu presses, raising his voice like he's imitating his brother. it works. osamu's fingers trace across your face, reading the shock on your face like braille. you turn your head and press your nose to his neck—no cologne, only the soft smell of skin. it can't be atsumu, but for a moment, you're fooled.
osamu tilts his head and sighs, slow and sweet. and when his lips brush your forehead, it's like everything you've ever dreamed. "i'm right," he breathes, nestling his head against your shoulder. it's not a question anymore, but a fact. "i'm right," he sing-songs, still painfully drunk.
"osamu—"
a hand covers your mouth, warm and firm. softer than atsumu's, and just a bit bigger. "don't say my name like that," he whispers, his voice hot against the shell of your ear, "say it the way you say his."
you swallow an audible gulp. "osa—osamu?" you try again.
osamu shakes his head. needy hands pull you in by the waist. you feel osamu's lips kiss up the side of your neck. "not like that," he murmurs.
"o-osa...mu..." you're breathless and dizzy. you feel osamu's smile against the underside of your jaw.
"better," he grins, and this time, his lips find yours.
it ends before you can even react. osamu pulls away with a shaky exhale, as if he's slowly waking from a dream. his eyes shine back at you in the dark, wide and unblinking.
he opens his mouth to speak. "i—"
"you're drunk," you say immediately, and push him away by the chest.
osamu doesn't let you. he brings his hands over yours and keeps them there, and under the thin cotton of his shirt you feel his heart beating rabbit-fast. "so? i'll still want you when i'm sober."
his words choke your own out of your throat. "osamu...i can't—"
"so don't. don't do anything. just stay the night." there's a desperation in his words that makes your stomach flip. osamu holds onto you like he's afraid to let go. "please."
it's late, and you're tired. atsumu's in love with someone that isn't you, but osamu's arms are warm enough to make you forget. you think to yourself: is it selfish if he's willing? are you cruel for wanting to pretend?
you wrap your arms around his neck and osamu relaxes, melting into you the same way butter does on toast. he's soft, comforting. familiar, but not the same. osamu's lips brush on your neck again and the impact shudders through your spine like electricity. he takes his hands and rubs them over your arms, thinking that you're cold. you don't want to tell him that in reality you're burning up, feeling hot everywhere he touches.
"thank you," osamu murmurs into your hair.
"for what?"
"stayin'."
and when osamu kisses you a second time, you don't have the heart to push him away.
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if after last night's episode I don't see a rise in smut fanfics about this man right here, I will sue this entire hell site.
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forsbergfilip · 2 months
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INTERVIEWING LEAFS PLAYERS NEXT TO A BUTTON THEY SHOULD NOT PUSH
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artbowls · 1 year
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I am the king and you’re just a pawn
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buggee22 · 6 months
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he’s almost too sickly sweet puppy looking to be inHABITed,,,works to his advantage methinks,,,
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alt that’s a little more purple and a little more fun >:)
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londonknights · 8 months
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matthew knies for warroad hockey co
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roranart · 1 month
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Sabo sketches hehe
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gorgonwrites · 9 months
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bound to you (part 2)
diluc x fem!reader
wc: 2, 205
authors note: okay i know i said i like jumping into the thick of things but i am such a SLUT for characters slowly falling in love and the tension of dancing around one another before they get together UGH! here is a part 2 for my first fic. :) also! this is a side blog and i realized im not really able to interact much with other accounts here. i might eventually move things over to my main blog bc i dont do much over there anyways. dont be alarmed if "witchcraftandwhisky" replies or likes something lololol. thank you for the love <333
CW: 18+, fem! reader, reader is an artist! slight voyeurism, diluc accidentally catches reader masterbating, MDNI!!!, diluc AND reader are still dancing around each other rn ugh just fuck already damn
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It’s been days since you briefly spoke with your husband, Diluc. He’s kept himself busy with the remainder of the harvest season, and you’ve felt uncharacteristically shy in his presence after his impromptu visit to your chambers. You have the perfect view of the vineyard from your window and you couldn’t help but greedily watch him, shirtless and hair tied up to stay off of his neck. He’s tanned quite a bit since he’s been home and you were pleasantly surprised to see the explosions of freckles that have erupted on his skin. Cute, you thought. There was some jealousy though, and you cursed the sun for being able to caress his skin so easily. You clapped your hands to either side of your face to rid yourself of the thought, and decided to be productive rather than wasting your afternoon in your window. 
Your eyes drifted to the corner of your room and after further inspection, you found your paints and canvases that had been long forgotten. I’ve hardly painted since I’ve been here… maybe some sketching will do my mind some good. You rummaged through the pile of art supplies to find an old sketchbook and some pencils and decided to find a shady tree outside. Adelinde greets you at the door of the manor, umbrella in hand to shield you from the hot summer sun. You both find a large tree with a lovely view of the vineyard and the manor, and you begin to sketch while chatting away with the head maid. 
After what felt like hours, a large shadow was cast over your sketch, and you were forced to look up and squint into the sun. Your husband loomed over you, glistening with sweat and looking curiously at your sketchbook. You quickly clutched it to your chest, startled by his sudden appearance. 
“Good afternoon, Master Diluc.” you couldn’t bring yourself to address him so casually yet, and his slight change in expression at your insisted formality was not lost on you. You began to fidget where you sat, and broke eye contact with Diluc to glance out at the vineyard where the rest of the men worked. 
“Oh, I think one of the boys needs me. Excuse me my Lady, Master Diluc.” Adelinde quickly said, winking at you before she gathered herself and quickly walked away. Up to no good. You tried to smile, but it came out looking like a grimace at your husband. 
“Y/n, good afternoon. I didn’t know you were an artist. May I see?” Diluc sounded as gentle as always, and you couldn’t help but hand your sketchbook over to him.
“I think saying I’m an artist is a stretch,” you sputtered, “it’s just something I do to pass the time. It calms my mind.” You didn’t know why him referring to you as an artist felt so embarrassing. You watched him closely while he flipped through the pages, noticing how his brows pinch together while he concentrates. He stopped suddenly, and chuckled. 
“Who, might I ask, is this?” He turned the sketchbook around only to show you a sketch you had done of his portrait that hung in the grand room of the manor. You gasped and snatched it from his hands instantly, curling in on yourself. You had drawn that not long after your arrival to the Dawn Winery, when you were still slightly optimistic about how your marriage to your husband would turn out. Diluc let out a roaring laugh, having to lean over you and brace himself on the tree so he didn’t fall over. You looked up at him and realized this was the closest you had ever been to him. You hadn't noticed just how many freckles had appeared on his skin. You noticed how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and you saw fine red hair peppered across his chest. You also noticed faint scarring on his arms and stomach, and you mindlessly reached out to touch them. Diluc hissed at the sudden contact and quickly retreated out of reach, his own hands covering where your fingers had brushed. 
“I’m sorry!” you squeaked. You knew your husband couldn’t stand the cold, and you had been sparingly using your vision to keep yourself cool while you sketched. You knew your touch felt unpleasant. 
“I know you don’t like the cold, that was thoughtless of me.” you quickly apologized, feeling sorry and even more embarrassed than you already were. You made eye contact with him and Diluc held your gaze, looking confused. 
“How did you know that?” he tilted his head, letting go of his side and crossing his arms.
“Oh I, ah- you don’t like the cold so I’ve heard.” Adelinde had discussed Diluc’s aversion to the cold with you before, but you didn’t have many details as to why.
“I try not to use my vision while you’re home, but it’s exceedingly hot today.” you mumbled, bringing your sketchbook up to hide your face as you finally looked away from your husband. 
“I see. You,” he cleared his throat, “don’t have to do that you know.” You looked up at him again, noticing how red his face and ears were. Was it from the sun, or was he blushing? You couldn’t be sure. 
“That was actually why I came over in the first place- everyone wants more of the frozen drinks you made the other day. And I- I thought that may be something to keep you busy for the rest of the afternoon.” He was talking into his hand, still unable to look at you. Oh, how the tables have turned. You felt a wicked feeling bubble up in your chest, and you grinned ear to ear. 
“Oh, Master Diluc, you’d have your little wife work tirelessly to serve drinks to your employees? How indecent of you.” you smirked, resting your chin in the palm of your hand while you wait for his response. He gathered his composure quickly, and leaned over you to whisper in your ear.
“My little wife doesn’t know just how indecent her husband can be, hm?” his voice was low and felt hot in your ear, and he moved away from you all too quickly. You sat astounded, frozen in place. He’d never spoken to you in that tone before. He cleared his throat again, and his regular formal demeanor returned. 
“Besides, we don’t want you to die of boredom, do we?” he wasn’t smiling, but you heard a hint of playfulness in his voice. You shook your head in agreeance, still astounded by his sudden brazen comment. He nodded to you, and then quickly left to return to his work. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, heading straight for your core. You rubbed your thighs together in hopes of quelling your growing arousal, but it had no effect. You silently curse yourself, trying to regain your composure as Adelinde returns to your side, a smile on her face. 
“Shall we head to the kitchen?” she politely asked. You nodded again, not trusting your voice in the slightest. You gathered your things and stood up on wobbly knees to head back inside. You needed a reprieve from the sun, and you jumped at the chance to freely use your vision. Your mind wandered aimlessly as you worked, and you wondered if your husband would ever come to tolerate your touch. Why does he not like the cold? Is this the reason you rarely see him? What does he do when winter arrives? Your thoughts raced, one flowing right into the other. You realized you had long since been done with the frozen drinks, and Adelinde was calling your name frantically.
“Lady y/n! Are you alright?” you blinked in response, and realized it was snowing lightly in your kitchen. You tried to laugh it off, but Adelinde knew better.
“I’m okay, don’t worry. I was getting a bit excited while making everyone their drinks. I’m happy to have something to do!” you smiled, picking up the tray and turning to head back outside. You needed to get to your chambers as quickly as possible before the relentless heat between your thighs became unbearable. 
Diluc couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the afternoon. His brief loss of control with you earlier was at the forefront of his mind, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked at him afterwards. Your eyes turned hazy and a flush had quickly formed on your chest and neck. It was the heat, he told himself. He felt so bold in that moment, but now he wanted nothing more than to leave the manor and not return for a few weeks to let himself rebuild the wall that was quickly crumbling around him. With the final harvests coming to an end rapidly, he was going to be around Dawn Winery much more than usual. He usually welcomes this time of year, when he can spend a little more time to himself and rest. This year, he could feel dread slowly building inside of him. Maybe he couldn’t entertain you and keep himself as composed as he first thought. He greatly underestimated your ability to fluster him, and there was still a part of him that was reluctant to grow close to you. Growing close to someone means there's an opportunity to lose them. He quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind, and decided he’d pay another visit to your chambers.
As he walked across the manor, he thought about if you needed more art supplies. You were quite talented, and he selfishly wondered if you had drawn him more than once. You had given him a happier expression than the one displayed in his portrait, and the thought brought a smile to his face. He decided to find the best supplies money could buy in all of Teyvat as a gift for you. He came to a halt, realizing he was at your room quicker than he expected. He raised his hand to knock softly, and froze in place when he heard your voice from the other side of the door. 
“Diluc, please-” you whined. He was hearing things, he was sure of it. The heat had finally gotten to him and he was becoming delusional. He had to confirm his suspicions, though, and nothing prepared him for the image he met after quietly opening your door. 
You were sprawled out on your bed with your nightdress hiked up to your hips, legs spread impossibly wide. One arm was thrown over your face and covered your eyes while you concentrated and your other hand was at your core, fingers plunging in and out of your pretty pussy. Your breathing was heavy, and Diluc could feel heat climbing up his chest. You were so close. You pulled your fingers out to focus on your puffy clit, wanting to let the feeling last a little longer. You suddenly changed your position, startling your husband. You were completely unaware of your audience as you got onto your knees and shoved your face into your pillows. You continued your ministrations, and your ass was on full display. Diluc’s cock was so hard it was beginning to hurt, and he could tell by your quickened breathing that you were close. With a quiet cry, you came on your fingers. Your juices ran down your hands and shaking thighs as you stilled and sighed. Diluc suddenly turned and quietly bolted out of your room, not bothering to shut your door for fear of the noise alerting you to his presence. He slammed his own door behind him, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his body. He was undeniably aroused, his cock straining against his trousers.
So much for controlling myself, he chided. He wanted to absolutely ravish you. He wanted to touch you, to taste you, and have you crying out his name over and over and over again. He slid down the door, resting his arms over his knees as he sat down. Dragging his palms down his face, he groaned. The image of you touching yourself to the thought of him was burned into his memory, and he wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.
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cherrycro · 1 year
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Pspspspsps leaving a trail of crumbs for the big jack horner fans
This was my first time drawing him i hope i did him justice ;v;
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l-e-i-k-o · 4 months
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just a student studying art history in san my.
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necrolexic0n · 1 year
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YAYAYAYAYAYYYY HE CAME IN DA MAAAIIIILL SO SO CUUUUTEEEE AAAAA!!!!!! 💋💋✨✨💋💋💕💕✨💋💋💕💕✨💋💕✨💋💋💋✨✨✨💕💋✨💋💋✨✨💋💕💋
thank yoooouu @theskeletongames i care him u-u
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This might be a controversial take. But it must be said.
Astarion has a flat ass.
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You know for someone who hasn’t spoken a damn line the whole show I sure do love Caleb Wittebane a lot
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ask and you shall receive heres my little frog i dont have a name for him yet but hes so fucked up
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tinywalkingheater · 6 months
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Gortash is very gorgeous to me
to people who use a facelift mod for gortash: why?? like he's beautiful leave him alone. if you want to date a dominant character that's also conventionally attractive, just date ascended astarion? or lae'zel?? keep your filthy mitts and facelift mods off my husband
xoxo
-Gortash's #1 defender, apologist, and fan
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