#and kept photos of each other

[badcaninecemetery]

The Chisaki Family Adventures (continued under the cut.)

Touya isn't afraid of any of the rides. But if we did one that spun too fast, he would turn to me with a deadpan before we both then had to rest to accommodate our upset bellies. Overhaul was not amused at this fair. He didn't want to ride anything because of potentially dirty rides. He also doesn't want to risk the chance of anyone else getting sick on the ride. The horrors. However, I did get him to play a game. He didn't win anything.

Little Touya was thirsty and pleased as punch to be there.

The seating was very interesting. We had to bounce whenever they started playing music of a guy yodeling. Overhaul closed his eyes and stiffly walked away—Touya attempted to yodel.

You can never be too safe.

Touya wouldn't stop teasing Overhaul about being his "housewife." Overhaul was, once again, not amused.

And finally... We all had to go inside for a bit because it was too hot. Overhaul doesn't like the heat for obvious reasons. Touya said he wanted to sit on a stairwell so it was hard for people to walk around him.

What lovely gentlemen.

[faaun]

my research partner and i are huddled in a blanket in paddington waiting for a too-late train i already miss you and you and you

[eyeballsoup7310]

Trying to figure out how Donna and Kian would become who they are in canon without making Donna kind of the worst (I’ve got that incurable “must like the First Sad Woman I find in a story” disease). Imagine this is like 8 years after the guys left town

Bonus (Kian learned anyways)

[wigglebox]

Suptober - Day 29;

A Million Reasons

[holdoncallfailed]

"[Lou] was a good friend through everything. We had this brother-sister type relationship in the group, and it lasted long after the group split. We would always exchange Christmas cards, Valentine cards. It was one of those friendships where it didn't matter if you didn't see each other a lot. We'd meet up after two years or five years and it would be like we'd seen each other last week. As you get older, you come to realize that that kind of friendship is rare, so I miss him a hell of a lot. It's just dawning on me that he's not out there anymore...Now Andy's gone, Sterling's gone, Nico's gone and Lou's gone. It feels strange. I miss them all, but I really miss Lou. He was a great songwriter who pushed the boundaries in terms of what he was writing about, but more importantly, he was a good and loyal friend. It doesn't seem right that I won't be sending him a Christmas card." (via)

photos: lou reed & maureen "moe" tucker (& sterling morrison & doug yule), late 1960s.

correspondence from tucker to reed: undated valentine's day card + fax sent on january 1, 1996, referencing reed's obituary for sterling morrison, which had been published the day before in the new york times magazine.

[teddy-bear-d]

My favourite flavour of desert duo screenshots are the ones where Etho is just there, like look at this:

[sunflowerrboyy]

HI HI LOOK AT MY HUMMINGBIRD PICTURES !!!

OK THANK YOU !! <3

[science-lings]

Update on my tgaa playthough, just got done with 1-2, I am in agony

[brionysea]

the two separate season 4 witch hunts for one single character who's responsible for every bad thing ever: right idea, wrong suspect

[thethingything]

I understand the need for proof of identity when trying to access your medical records but it is fucking infuriating that I can't access certain shit because we don't have photo ID.

I made a request for our records from the hospital visit this time last year and we heard nothing about it for ages because we didn't provide photo ID and they've just emailed us saying we have 2 weeks to respond before they just dispose of the records

[toa-character-tournament]

ROUND ONE BRACKET B

[birdofdawning]

Sleepovers

@madronash said this should be a thing.

A continuation of Sleepovers, featuring an actual sleepover.

Chapter 3

Myka is feeling full and happy and ever so slightly sleepy after two glasses of wine as Helena lets them into her apartment. It’s in a 1930s building, all brick and ornate glass and ironwork, and is so Helena Myka feels like hugging herself. The room before her is a collection of dark shapes lit only by the pale city lights falling through a tall set of bay windows. Her boots step onto a wooden floor.

Then Helena flicks on a light and Myka says “Oh”. She had forgotten how messy Helena was. There are orphaned pieces of machinery sitting on small tables, on chairs, on a window sill, but mostly carelessly arranged around a soldering station set up on the kitchen counter.  Hand drawn diagrams and lists have been pinned haphazardly to the walls (Myka briefly worries about Helena’s security deposit) or lie, scattered, around the floor. There is a large map of the constellations taped slightly askew above a bookshelf, and an old movie poster proclaiming ‘Carl Laemmle presents H. G. WELLS’ Fantastic Sensation THE INVISIBLE MAN’. On the back of the door Helena has just closed behind them is a calendar featuring ‘fancy pigeons’. But she can see no other pictures, nothing more personal.

But books! There are books everywhere. Myka remembers Helena’s packrat habits from the few exciting weeks she worked as a fellow agent. Even after Helena — and her room — had disappeared, Myka was still finding odd paperbacks and secondhand novels secreted away around the Bed and Breakfast for months after her own reinstatement. Honestly, these constant little reminders of Helena, and of how stupidly happy Myka had been, probably drew out a bad time longer than it needed to be. She allows Helena to take her coat and steps forward to examine the nearest pile of books.

“Perhaps it’s a little cluttered?” says Helena, who has apparently been looking at her space with fresh eyes. “They’re very small rooms,” she adds, hopefully, “Though I still pay an appalling amount for them,” she finishes, more gloomily.

“It’s… charming. ‘The maid’s day off’ I guess?”

“I don’t have a maid.”

“No, that’s a thing people— actually, don’t worry. I guess you did have maids once.”

“Oh, as soon as we could. It was a status thing. And once you could afford domestic staff — who were worked like serfs, by the way, I should know — you were expected to drop all your friends who didn’t have servants.” Still holding Myka’s coat she looks around for somewhere to put it. After a moment she hangs it over a nearby dressmaker’s dummy. “We didn’t drop people, though, Charles and I. We were Bohemians.”

This is probably the most Helena has shared about her previous life in three years, and Myka desperately tries to think how she can keep the conversation going. But Helena’s pocket buzzes and the moment is over. “Excuse me,” she says, taking her phone out and reading whatever is there, “I should deal with this. The bedroom is through there, and the bathroom beyond.” And she steps toward the windows, absorbed.

She has a girlfriend remembers Myka. Her own phone remains firmly turned off, so she takes the top book from the pile beside her and carries her duffle bag into the next room.

Helena’s bedroom is slightly less messy than the rest of the apartment, but Myka can still easily see which side of the bed she favours by the papers and books piled up on the floor and side-table beside it. She drops her bag onto the other side, secures her weapon in its case, and changes into yoga pants and her oversized Eagles t-shirt. In the next room she can hear Helena speaking quietly to someone, so she takes her toothbrush and steps into the bathroom, least she be tempted to eavesdrop.

Ten minutes later, when Helena comes to find her, she is propped up in bed reading Lord Edgware Dies.

“I had forgotten you wore glasses,” says Helena. “A bespectacled Bering. What are you reading?”

“Oh, just a Cozy,” says Myka, smiling happily.

“A Cosy.”

“Oh, you’d probably call it a Whodunnit.”

“A Whodunnit.”

“Or, no, perhaps that term came later. One of these,” she waves the paperback, “A mystery novel based around a crime, usually murder, with a small number of potential suspects. And the puzzle is the point of the story.”

“Ah, yes.” Helena takes off her own coat and, after moment’s thought, hangs it from the top of the open door.

“It must be exhausting, still catching up with everything even after four years,” says Myka, “I don’t know how you manage.”

“I take a lot of hot showers,” says Helena, slowly beginning to unbutton her shirt. She stares expressionlessly at the bed. Myka wonders what she’s thinking.

“It’s nice when I find a new one.”

“What?” says Helena.

“A Cozy. One I haven’t read before. Because I always remember the solution? So I can’t really reread them.”

“Ah.”

“… Are you going to get changed? Into pyjamas?”

“I suppose I am,” says Helena. She opens a nearby drawer and starts rummaging through it. Myka goes back to her book.

She’s onto the third chapter when Helena comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and wearing a long white night-gown. Myka laughs out loud in surprise.

“You can shut your head,” suggests Helena airily, pulling back the covers and getting in beside her. “I can’t sleep comfortably in all that,” she points a circling finger at Myka’s t-shirt, “… so it’s either this or…” she trails off, and then: “I have a breakfast appointment at eight. Do you mind if I turn off the main light?”

“Oh, I think I’m done.” Myka glances at her page number and places the paperback on top of the pile of books on her side of the bed. She pulls her glasses off and yawns. “Tired.”

“I’m not at all surprised. You’ve had an intense day. Beleuchtung!” Abruptly the room is dark, the only light coming from the dim room beyond.

Myka pretends she isn't a little impressed. “I’ll probably wake up at five and go for a run.”

“Of course you will,” says Helena. “I won’t. So don’t wake me up. There should be a key…” she stops to have a think about where a key might be. “Or you could just take the ones in my coat pocket,” she decides.

There’s a moment of silence. Then Myka gasps. “Helena! You forgot to brush your hair one-hundred times!”

A sharp elbow digs into her arm and she sniggers, pleased with herself.

“You are overexcited, my girl,” Helena’s voice is stern. “Too much wine, I suspect. I shall have to make sure you take less next time.”

“You’re gonna take me out to dinner again?” says Myka mock-excited, “I didn’t embarrass you too much with my simple country ways?”

“Perhaps asking for a spittoon was a little too much, even for San Francisco, but at least you’ll know for the future. Why, I’ll have you ready for polite company in no time at all. That is, if I wish to win McGillicuddy's wager and repair the fortunes of my estate,” Helena says in an aside to an imaginary audience.

“Take care you don’t fall in love with me, and throw the bet out of misguided sentimentality. And then exile yourself to the continent, drinking too much and consorting with low women because you think I’m too good for you.”

There’s a beat, then Helena’s voice says “Sadly I fear that you have fallen in with a confirmed rake, and will soon discover — and to your detriment, my girl! — that such mawkishness is beyond my character. So yes, if you’re good, I shall take you out to dinner again.”

Myka laughs. “I’ll be good.” She wriggles a little closer to the warm body beside her and sighs contentedly. Tomorrow she will have to deal with Artie and the fallout from her brief text this afternoon, and with Pete being worried and Claudia demanding answers, and maybe even Mrs Frederic. But tonight she is with her friend and happy.

Helena is still talking. “Yes, well, we don’t really have a choice. I’m hardly going to cook for you. I’m not some slavey at your beck and call.”

“I bet you can’t cook.”

Helena sniffs. “I could if I wanted to. It’s simple chemistry, a discipline at which I excel.”

Myka hears her shifting around, and suddenly her breathing is a little closer. She smells of peppermint toothpaste and violets.

“This is nice,” whispers Myka. “I once… um, maybe kinda more than once imagined this. After you told me about sharing a bed with the other apprentices.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. And I imagined how we’d be fifteen and I’d listen to you tell me all the things you were thinking about making stories of. The crystal egg, and the growth formula. Elstead’s bathysphere. You know, no-one invented an actual bathysphere until thirty years after you wrote about it.”

“I did.”

Myka laughs. “Of course you did. But yeah. God, I fangirled over you so bad.”

There’s a pause. “And then I ruined it all.”

“Yeah,” says Myka, because she did.

She lies facing Helena, listening to her slow breathing. She can just make out the shape of her head now, see her black hair spread out over the white pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

They are both still for a time. Outside, beneath them, a bus pulls up and Myka can hear people talking loudly as they stumble off.

Helena stirs. “The other girls thought my ideas were silly. Or strange. They tended to avoid me,” she says. “I was… it was a lonely existence, my adolescence.”

Myka reaches out and finds her hand, because she knows exactly what that was like.

“It wasn’t until I got published… Lord, I was ecstatic, Myka. Even if it was as someone else, a man, even then, having people enjoy my ideas, and discuss them as if they were worth discussion... You can have no idea.”

Myka supposes she can’t, so she just squeezes Helena’s hand.

“Here, working in this city, I am taken seriously. Well, once I show people what I can do. I mean to say, I’m not dismissed out of hand, d’you see? But still, that feeling of capturing the imagination of a nation…” she sighs.

“You miss it.”

“Who wouldn’t? Oh!” And she sits up and twists around, searching for something by the bed. “I was going to read you my—my (where is that bothersome…?)—my story!”

But Myka reaches for her, her arm curling around Helena’s waist, and gently pulls her back under the covers. “Tomorrow,” she says, and Helena allows herself to be drawn close. They end up together in the middle of the bed. Myka keeps her arm around Helena’s waist.

“Tomorrow then,” says Helena, a little gruffly.

She can feel Helena watching her, her breathing a little rougher now, perhaps from the exertion of leaning over the bed.

“Myka?”

“Mmm?”

“When was the last time you slept in a bed with a woman?”

Myka laughs. “God! When was the last time I was in bed with anyone—?” And then they both remember and are silent, but Helena reaches up and begins stroking Myka’s hair. Myka leans into her hand and tries again.

“Tracey, I suppose. Or— no! My roommate when I was pre-law. We’d go to a party or something and then she’d make me come to bed with her.” She laughs, remembering. “God, she was so affectionate when she was drunk, it was funny. I thought she was wonderful.”

Helena doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing. I—” She sighs. “Oh, my darling. What am I to do with you?”

“What?” whispers Myka, because she can feel Helena’s mind working.

Myka smiles to herself. “Nothin’,” she says squeezing Helena gently. “Just be here.” She shifts her head to rest on Helena’s shoulder. “Sleepy. G’night.” She kisses Helena’s neck absently. “Love you.” And she is asleep.

[selfsabotaqe]

📸 @wutheringdevotion / oliver & lachlan :     send me a [X] to see my muses favorite picture(s) of your muse.

[fazcinatingblog]

I wanted to Trent today but Trent is emergency which is just really unfair

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

[gabseyoo]

PROOF — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: msby!kiyoomi, female reader, best friend!kiyoomi, pwp, cunnilingus, fingering, kinda best friends to lovers. word count: 2,7k.

note: this was supposed to be shameless smut but ended up being kind of romantic (?) just because a kiyoomi being in love with us is my sexual fantasy. also, i'm not satisfied with the ending, but i had no other ideas. maybe when i come up with something better ill change it, who knows :p

“Kiyoomi, do you go down on girls?”

The question took Kiyoomi off guard. You guys had spent the last twenty minutes in almost complete silence, just hanging out in his living room and completely ignoring the random movie you had chosen because you both were scrolling through your phones, which is why the last thing he expected to hear out of the blue was such a question.

He turned to look at you, who were lying across the couch with your feet resting in his lap and still staring at your phone screen. Not knowing what to say, a ‘huh’ was the only thing he could think of. 

“Just answer.” You poked his thigh with your foot. “It’s not like we’re strangers.” 

That was true. You two were good friends, practically best friends, and therefore, you both had full confidence in each other. But, you had always kept a limit when it came to talking about both his sex life and yours, to the point where that part of your respective lives was a complete mystery to each other. 

And this is a secret— but he liked it that way. Because he was more than sure that he didn’t want to know what you did with other men at all. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn with jealousy. That’s the reason he didn’t bother to tell you about his own experiences with other women either, just in case there was a small chance that you might feel the same way he did. 

“None of your business.” He answered sharply. 

You rolled your eyes before getting up from your comfortable position to sit cross-legged, “C’mon, Kiyoomi, It’s just a question.”

“A question I won’t answer.”

“Why not?” You crossed your arms, looking at him defiantly. 

Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes at your posture, why did you suddenly want to know that? Moreover, why did you insist on wanting to know? Did someone say something to you? Is there a rumor about him? Or maybe you had suddenly awakened an interest in him? He was overthinking, but still he hoped more than anything that it was the latter option rather than the others. 

“Just because.” He said, and before you could protest, he continued: “And, why are you asking anyway?” 

A smirk appeared on your face, “If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours. Deal?”

“Never mind.”

“You’ll never know why I asked, then.” You said, casually looking at your nails. “Unless we make a deal.”

He shouldn’t accept so easily, he knew, but now he was genuinely curious why you broke an unspoken rule between you two to ask him if he did orals, of all things. 

So, he agreed. “Deal.”

Your smile of victory almost made him smile too, but he did his best to remain serious. “Okay. Tell me.”

He sighed before answering honestly. “I do.”

Your eyes widened and an incredulous laugh escaped your lips before you said, “Really?” The surprise in your voice made him frown, why was that surprising? Should he be offended?

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious? You go down on girls?” You couldn't even hide the disbelief in your voice. “You?”

“I already said yes. Now, tell me. Why are you asking?”

Without further ado, you grabbed your phone that had been forgotten in your lap to unlock it, and a second later you were showing him what appeared to be your TikTok feed.

“A fan made a TikTok with the title: Ranking how good MSBY players are at giving head and you were raked as a zero just because he’d rather die than put his mouth there.”

What the fuck?!

“Let me see that.”

In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi snatched the phone from you to watch the video with his own eyes, regretting it as soon as it started thanks to the embarrassing selection of music and photos chosen from the team members. He scoffed, a random person on the internet had felt entitled to make this kind of ranking just based on appearances and assumptions. It’s not like they could have any real evidence at the end of the day. But it seems that for many people a video of this kind told the absolute truth, because it had thousands of likes and thousands of comments, and—to his misfortune—he couldn’t help but read them.

Now he wished he had never done it. 

In addition to most of the comments agreeing and mocking Kiyoomi’s ranking, saying that at least his face makes up for it and that maybe he gives head as long as he has his face mask on—that one was actually funny, but he wouldn’t say that out loud—, the other vast majority agreed that Atsumu and Bokuto were the best. 

But the question here is, did you think the same?

“You actually believe this crap?” He asked, actually sounding more hurt than he planned. 

“Kiyoomi, it’s just a TikTok. Of course, I’ll believe it.” You were obviously trying to make a joke, but still, the expression on his face showed pure disbelief. “I’m joking, jeez.”

“I know it’s a just TikTok, but I still want to know.” He sounded serious. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, perhaps thinking he was exaggerating, maybe he was, but he wasn’t offended by the fact that someone made that video, there were probably hundreds just like it. It was the fact that you, of all people, seemed to agree with an assumption about him and his very private intimate life. 

“Kiyoomi, I just thought it was funny. That’s why I asked.”

“But you didn’t believe me when I told you I did.”

“I did believe you.” He narrowed his eyes, showing that he obviously didn’t buy your words. “I’m not lying. I believed you, but— I was just… shocked.”

“Why?”

“It’s just that…never mind.”

“Tell me.” 

You looked him in the eye for a few seconds before sighing heavily.

“You’re… a little too special when it comes to cleanness and— where you put your mouth, you know?” You weren’t even looking him in the face, obviously nervous about the direction the conversation was taking. “I’m not judging you, we should all be careful where we put it. And, I just thought that… yeah” You waved your hand as you finished, trying to play it down. 

Kiyoomi couldn’t blame you or others for thinking that, after all, that was the kind of reputation he built for himself. But, even when he didn’t care what others thought about him, he always cared what you thought; for that reason alone, he wasn’t going to let you walk away with the wrong idea about him. 

“Yes, we should. But now you know that I actually go down.” He said, and, simply because he had a good feeling, he added: “And I’m pretty good at it, I can assure you.”

You scoffed. “Are you?”

“I am.” Confidence exuded in his voice, perhaps that was exactly why the next words came out of his mouth: “You want proof?”

What happened next was a delight to his eyes. 

You got fucking nervous, of course he noticed, you were his best friend after all. You widened your eyes, opened your mouth a couple of times in an attempt to say something but nothing came out. But what was a poem for him, was to see how you moved your hips slightly, in a movement that could have gone unnoticed if he hadn't paid all his attention to you. 

You cleared your throat as you looked away from his gaze. “I have no desire to ask your previous flings how good you are down there or watch any pornographic videos of you, so no, thanks.” You folded your arms as you sat up straight, suddenly finding the movie interesting. 

The room fell into silence, accompanied by a heavy tension that you two were obviously aware of. 

This situation was actually kind of funny. Thanks to a fucking TikTok, he now had an opportunity in front of him that he had been waiting for a long time. An opportunity he was going to take. 

“I wasn’t referring to that kind of proof.”

Three minutes later, you were lying on the couch with your head resting on a pillow, your pants thrown aside on the floor and Kiyoomi between your legs, spreading kisses across your belly. 

“This is weird.” You said, maybe in an attempt to break the intimate silence that had formed where only your breaths and his kisses could be heard. 

“It is.” He agreed before lowering his lips to your inner thighs, where he surprised you with a light bite that made you gasp. “We can stop if you want.”

You were quick to reply with a no and he smirked against your skin. Of course you didn’t want to stop, neither did he. Both of you by this point were already immersed in lust, even though it had only been a few minutes of foreplay.

When he was desperately taking off your pants minutes ago, Kiyoomi debated whether to just go for it or take it slow. 

But the moment he saw the longing in your eyes, how pretty you looked underneath him, he knew he would take his time. He didn’t just want to prove something to you; he actually wanted to taste you, to make you squirm, to make you enjoy this as much as he would. 

Gently caressing your thighs with both hands, he moved down until his mouth made contact with your pelvis, where he left another trail of kisses until he reached right where your clit was. Still above the fabric of your panties, he kissed you there, which was enough to elicit a moan of frustration from you.

“Please, just do it.” 

He kissed the same spot again before smirking. “Let me just go get my facemask, can’t do this without it.” 

His sudden joke made you burst into laughter which elicited a chuckle from him. “Don’t kill the mood.” You said as you gave a small pat to his hand that squeezed your thigh. 

He smiled and brought both of his hands to the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly. “At this point that’s impossible.”

“I know.” You muttered as you lifted your hips to let him remove the garment easily. 

As quickly as the garment hit the floor, Kiyoomi’s eyes focused on the middle of your legs, you may not have noticed, but the mere sight of your pussy glistening with your arousal made him twice as hard as he already was. 

“Don’t stare.” You said, trying to close your legs as much as you could since Kiyoomi was in the way.

No, no, no. There was no way for you to hide from him now, or ever. 

“Why not? You’re so fucking hot in all places.” 

Hearing his words, in an act of fluster, you brought both of your hands to cover your face, perhaps trying to hide how his praise made you feel. “You think so?”

The question came out almost in a whisper, and in response, he took both of your hands, interlaced your fingers and placed them on the sides of your head with the purpose of looking you in the eyes. 

“There’s no day when I don’t think that you’re hot,” He confessed, his voice deep and serious with the purpose of making you understand that he was not playing games. “Now that I just told you how crazy I’m for you, open your legs and let me make you feel good.”

You nodded, and staring at him with desire in your eyes, you opened your legs wide open again until that part of your body that he wanted to devour more than anything else was once again fully at his mercy.

Kiyoomi let go your hands and he lowered his body until his stomach made contact with the soft cushion of the couch. Now in that position, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, squeezing the flesh eagerly before dipping his head into the middle of your legs. 

“God.” You sighed, jerking your hips upward in surprise. 

He played slowly with his tongue, running it up and down before concentrating on sucking your clit. 

He was hard as fuck. Maybe more than he had ever been in his life. He even felt his tip leaking and was almost certain that if he started grinding his hips against the cushion, he could come at any moment. But he would save that for later. Right now, he was getting drunk on your taste and the sound of your moans. 

And fuck… those moans were heaven itself. 

He lowered his mouth, right at your entrance, where he began to lick gathering more of your juices before he deepened his mouth against your clit, sucking harder, quickly realizing that you liked it by the movement of your hips and the loud whimper that came out of your mouth. 

Kiyoomi was getting excited, even more so when he felt your hands stroking his head before pulling his curls, holding him closer to you, as if you were afraid he would break away, taking with him the pleasure you were feeling, but Kiyoomi wasn’t willing to do that, right now what he wanted most was you coming as hard as you could in his mouth. 

Hungry to increase your pleasure, he didn’t think twice when he let go of one of your thighs to stick a finger inside you, thrusting it in and out a few times before slipping another one in and curving his fingers to reach that sensitive spot inside you. 

“There, oh god, there.”

He would give you whatever you wanted, so he focused there. Feeling lovesick at this point. Loving the way you sounded. Loving the way you pulled his hair. Loving  the way your tight pussy squeezed his fingers. 

He moved his tongue back down to your entrance at the same time he pulled his fingers out, but only to start circling them over your clit. This is where you put a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, but Kiyoomi didn’t want that, he wanted to hear you come undone for him, no matter if it woke up the neighbors. So with his free hand he took you by the wrist at the same time that he separated his mouth from your sex.

“Don’t hold back those sounds, I want to hear you scream for me. Okay?”

You nodded. Too shocked to formulate words. 

“Good girl.” He praised before placing a short kiss on your wrist, releasing it a second later to immediately return to seal his mouth with your wet pussy. 

This time he put both hands behind your knees to spread your legs wider and pushed them against your chest, giving himself more room to continue devouring you, proud that you were no longer shy to scream with pleasure when he flicked his tongue, sucked and bit your pretty pussy. 

“I’m close. Fuck! Don’t stop, please.”

Kiyoomi wouldn’t stop, he was sure of that.

It was a matter of seconds when started to came in your best friend’s mouth. 

Kiyoomi kept licking, drinking up all your release until your legs began to shake from overstimulation. 

He gave a peck to your clit before gently letting go of your legs, settling them slowly on the cushion. He caressed your thighs as he left kiss after kiss on your belly, helping you relax as you tried to control your breathing after such an intense experience. 

You were lying there staring at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Perhaps processing everything that just happened, but Kiyoomi wouldn’t give you time for regrets, not now, not ever. He moved on top of you, resting his forearms on either side of your head and looked down at you, connecting your gazes before asking with a cocky smile on his face, “And? How was it?”

You let out a chuckle and rolled your eyes playfully before answering, “I think TikTok and I owe you an apology.” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re definitely not a zero.”

“I’ll be happy with yours alone.” He said before lowering his face further until your noses brushed, “Your opinion is the only one I care about afterall.” He added before finally kissing you.