#their relationship is so so messy and so full of love

[42ap]

In this AU, Ford’s ideal is to save the world, but in practice, he spends a lot of time hunting and killing monsters. He feels rigid and hard when touched, only for it to become clear that he always carries two guns with him. His paranoia can’t entirely be called irrational, since he has indeed made plenty of enemies.

As mentioned before, Ford and Stan have a friends-with-benefits relationship in this AU, but they’ve barely had any sexual encounters. In fact, after Ford came back, they didn’t do anything at all; they only had a few encounters when they were younger, so in total, it amounts to “almost none.”

When they were young, their father would often tell Ford to keep an eye on his brother. Stan, the mad dog who stirred up trouble and picked fights, always had Ford behind him, who came up with plans and fixed problems. The two brothers were inseparable, and this was how people perceived them. But one day, Ford accidentally found out that Stan had feelings for him.

Ford was utterly disgusted and got into a huge fight with Stan. He found Stan repulsive, accused him of being mentally ill, and questioned whether all of Stan’s familial affection was motivated by something impure. Stan couldn’t successfully lie to convince Ford that he didn’t have feelings for him, nor could he make Ford believe that he was capable of restraining himself and maintaining a normal relationship. It was a brutal argument, and by the end of it, Ford suddenly calmed down. He stared at Stan, sneered coldly, and said, “You say you like me? Prove it. Show me how much you like me and how obedient you can be.”

And so they did it. It wasn’t painful, nor was it pleasurable. Stan genuinely liked Ford, but he was just barely transitioning from being straight, and his mind hadn’t fully processed everything yet. But in that moment, it seemed like the only way to gain Ford’s forgiveness or to stop his anger was to prove it to him, so he did it, full of fear and anxiety. He was the one who liked men, so naturally, he should be the one on the bottom. Everything was messy, dragging on, not disastrous, but just a little off in every way. The lube was improvised, the foreplay was half-hearted, and even the climax felt incomplete. It wasn’t good, and it wasn’t something without regret.

In porn, the participants end up sticky, kissing, and hugging, smiling with happiness. But in reality, what Stan remembered most wasn’t Ford’s gasps but the way the evening sunlight shone in through the windows from the street, casting shadows on the dim ceiling as cars occasionally passed by.

After that, they did it once or twice more, but their relationship continued to deteriorate rapidly. Before there could be any opportunity for reconciliation, the science fair incident happened.

Ford hated him because he believed Stan had done it on purpose—Stan wanted him to stay by his side.

Ford hated him deeply because Stan had cost him a normal family. In college, he could never introduce his family or his brother in a normal, happy way when people asked about them.

“Being a twin is a birthright.” Not everyone is born with a sibling alongside them, sharing that special connection. Not everyone gets to have such a unique relationship—biologically, physically, inseparably bound. Ford hated Stan because Stan had ruined that precious privilege for him.

From the age of 20 to 60, Ford lived alone and did well for himself, doing everything he loved without anyone holding him back.

[grubbyposting]

Taking my (foot taller than me) pet puppytwink cissoid’s anal virginity cause he begged me, only for him to say “god im such a FAGGOT slut, what would my father think…?” as I’m fucking his ass (so good that he shot cum on his own mouth) (twice), seeing the fear in his eyes as I threaten to rip his pretty deer throat out and suck out his blood, followed by him worshipping my hairy thighs with his tongue as he thanks me for fucking him til he went dumb and drooly was actually the cure to my dysphoria all along

(after this he immediately comes out to his whole family as a faggot and gives me his fucking Xbox 🤭) #winning

(Sappy shit under the cut.)

ok but I’m gonna get a little sincere on the horny blog…

He also just, loves me. And just so happens to have *also* loved me as my weird girl self in middle school. To make a long, beautiful, complicated story short… we met as kids in school, and bonded because we both liked furries and FNAF. He got me chocolates for Christmas in sixth grade, and after some hmming and hawing, I found myself helplessly adoring his quirky, dainty, gentlemanly self, too. He thought I was cool and loved me best he could with his young little heart. He showed me his Undertale game on one of our dates to his house and we played and laughed and had so much fun. But I was trapped in a shitty home full of surveillance (cameras, monitoring, sexual shame, control, and the standard queerphobia). A culture that made me feel ashamed to be myself. It hurt me bad and twisted me into someone I’m not proud of being.

When he asked to kiss me… I said no.

I felt so ashamed of myself and disgusted at my desires.

I broke his heart shortly after, I couldn’t take the shame. Both of us went on to go through relationship hell for eight years.

I was terribly cruel to him in high school because of telephone game drama. I believed I was doing the “right thing” by spreading the rumors. I thought I was being so righteous and good, but sometimes that hurts people way worse than you can even fathom. Autistic people and those raised into white womanhood, heed my warning…

Both at our lowest, both off the tail ends of messy, messy shit, both desperate scared and longing, horny, sad and… after playing secret horny tag in DMs for years… (my friends hated him because of the drama)

I say fuck it, wyd?

I tell him outright. “I’m not here to love you. But I’m here to show you a good time tonight.”

After. he thanked me, said he felt like he could actually touch the world and impact it.

I have him come back the next night…

We watch fight club… we talk about masculinity, philosophy, spirituality, existential fear, what it means to us… he cuddles me and we dig deep.

I tell him I’m not here to love him but… I think I need him in my life right now.

I started to feel understood by another man… who desired me…? A cis one? Even if he does have chest scars from his ribcage surgery that closely resemble top surgery scars… what a coincidence…

He shows me Berserk. He spends the night. We talk, and laugh, and fuck, and stay up til the wee hours of morning cuddling and chatting and both start to notice what the hell is going on. Someone, save us now… it’s happening… it’s happening and neither of us are wanting to stop it… fuck!

I told him. I give up. I love you! I am delighted at the person that you are! I missed you so badly! Eight years collapsed into nothing the moment we could melt into each other’s arms.

“I love you too.”

He asked me to fight on that fourth day. My blood went cold, because I was so desperate to ask myself, but he was the only one with the courage. We threw fists and I gave him the prettiest black eye. He marked my face and bruised my body. That was 11/11/24.

I was never the same.

I had to confess to my friends that I fell in love. I shook and cried and was so scared. This had to happen. I’m fighting for what I need. Some got mad, some got confused, all of them not pleased with me. But… they turned around. I turned on the charm and said, fuck it, I’m gonna be happy. I told them all about the person he was. I walked back the rumor and gave it context. I wanted to clear this beautiful man’s name, because it’s a name I only feel love for.

I left my toxic girlfriend of three years who didn’t know how to love me. I forgive her. But that needed a wake up call. He saved me, not by fixing it, not by asking me to leave her, but by showing me a world I deserved that I didn’t think was even real. I left to pursue a happy life. He showed me conflict is a tool, passion doesn’t have to come at a cost, and difference is a strength. He showed me stillness and peace and exuberance and freedom. He showed me how to accept my whole self. I showed him how to love his.

My angriest friend eventually asked me how to open in her first DM to him (“I can’t believe you did it, but you made me a fan. I’d love to be his friend”).

We had dinner together (she practically chased us down!) and it was a beautiful full circle moment. We were all in the same class together years ago.

We shared family Christmas this year, I clicked with his parents completely (“hey, remember me…?”) and finally, I felt like I didn’t need to doubt anymore. It’s the real deal, and I pinch myself every single day. I’m blessed, truly.

I showed him Rocky Horror recently. He got it. He loved it. He said he felt it gently take a piece of his negativity, dissolve it, and inspire him to live a freer life. Just like it did for me all those years ago, when my repressed little self found it and fixated on it, not even knowing why. Not understanding I could claim my desires. Not understanding I could choose to be a happy gay man who fucks nasty.

I cried, helplessly. I finally made it, to my gay love and my hopeful queer future full of art and life. I just know little us are so proud. They set us up, after all.

And yeah, I kissed him.

But I didn’t ask.

I love my gay life.

It got better. Hold on, lonely transfags and sad bi boys alike. True love (and fucking til you bleed) awaits you!

[iamvegorott]

Could I possibly get a blurb of Danti? Maybe Dark helping Anti out with his insecurity of his scar? Or something wholesome like that?

Anti caught himself in a weird trance, staring at himself in the hallway mirror and tracing his fingers along the rough skin that was the scar across his neck. He knew what the reason behind the scarring was, having seen the ‘evidence’ behind it. But this reality didn’t give him the memories of it happening. It was just…there. 

Anti was a very confident man, knowing he looked good and having fun with it. He didn’t second guess how he presented himself and just walked with enough pride to be nearly contagious to others. Well, contagious to those who liked him and envy-inducing to those who didn’t. And Anti loved that. 

But even the most confident people in the world had their moments, catching themselves at an odd angle or noticing something different and needing a second to adjust. Anti wasn’t fully immune to those moments, and it was always his scar that pulled him into this weird loop of overanalyzing his own skin, feeling the texture, and wondering how he’d look without it. Yes, Anti could shift his body into different forms, but this was his most natural state, and he couldn’t change it. It was… inconvenient sometimes. 

“Anti?” The voice wasn’t heard. 

Anti mumbled gibberish to himself as his short and blunt nail trailed the line that was the connection between his skin and the scar. An oddly smooth and curled line, much smoother than it should be given how slowly the wound was made, but the appearance went against that logic. Although, most things in this life of theirs went against logic. 

“Dove?” The voice finally registered as Dark stepped over to Anti, stopping right behind him and looking at his face through the mirror.

He and Dark dating was something that most would say went against logic…yet it worked out for them. 

“Need something?” Anti asked, making his hand drop. 

“I was going to ask if you were ready for dinner, but something else seems to be taking over your thoughts.” Dark placed his hands on Anti’s waist and pressed a tender kiss to the side of his neck. 

“Don’t get all gushy on me.” Anti played up his protest despite tilting his head so Dark had more space to kiss. 

“Are you truly complaining?” Dark hummed, hands moving so now he was loosely hugging him, 

“Maybe~” Anti sang the word, arms resting on Dark’s and his eyes softening as Dark rested his chin on his shoulder. A casual embrace, something that took the two of them some time to get used to. 

The beginning of their relationship was…messy, and it was an adjustment for both of them to settle into a more domestic routine. Anti could still remember the way he nearly choked on his own spit the first time Dark called him dove, and now it was something he’d tease Dark if he didn’t call him that at least ten times a day.

“So, what were you thinking about?” 

“Meh.” 

“‘Meh’ isn’t a subject.” Dark smiled as Anti exaggerated a groan. 

“I was looking at my scar.” Anti kept the exaggeration in his voice. 

“Your scar?”

“Sometimes it just looks…off.” 

“I think it’s unique. It's very fitting for you. Adds to the individuality that is you. Stands out and catches the eye in ways that make others crave to live a life of excitement. Without it, I wouldn’t have you, and I’d hate to be without the man I love.” Dark chuckled as Anti leaned his full weight back against him with his next groan. 

“Stop being all cute and shit.” Anti pretended to try to ‘break free’ from Dark and started laughing when he got what he wanted and was held tighter. 

“I’m only like this around you, so appreciate it.” Dark’s voice was playful. Anti tilted his head back and grinned. 

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” 

“Make sure you never forget what you do to me, dove.” 

“Oh no, anything but that~” Anti laughed again as Dark turned him, picked him up, and carried him away. 

---------

@ctheotter

[itsmeowlee]

love boids

[wardensantoineandevka]

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Broke (2016): BBC Sherlock is a phenomenal piece of media and anything that seems like a flaw just hasn't been fully explored yet

Woke (2020): BBC Sherlock is an incredibly flawed series run by an egotistical writer, it never deserved the hype and is actively bad on so many fronts (especially representation)

Bespoke (2024): BBC Sherlock is flawed and bogged down by increasingly poor writing, which many fans refused to see while it was airing, leading to hugely misplaced expectations (particularly for the final series), AND it has the seeds of some compelling characterizations and portrayals, some genuinely solid performances, and touches--albeit imperfectly--on complexities that are still being discussed today (particularly as it relates to the relationship between Sherlock and John). The huge cultural impact of the show has created a massive pendulum effect in its public perception, leading to most people today remembering a caricature of the show (whether positive or negative) rather than appreciating its nuanced merits and failings...that being said Season 4 sucked

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[spacedlexi]

Do you think Vi and Minnie were still dating when Minnie and Sophie got captured or do you think things were going awry and they broke up before the twins got captured?

they were definitely still dating i dont think we have any reason to believe they werent? like im p sure all evidence points to dating. but i definitely think their relationship was awry at that point, and they were just in a weird middle zone, at least on minnies side. minnie definitely had her frustrations if her words to vi in the woods are anything to go by, and i think violet also not having a response to it and instead just retreating says something about her/their relationship

i do think violet loved minnie and just wanted to make her happy (even if in doing so gave herself the "short end of the stick" in the relationship), and violet seeing minnie as the fish i think says a lot about how positively she viewed her (and i think her getting so flustered at clem saying shes the fish is because those are secretly traits she aspires to, but has yet to recognize in herself). i think minnies behavior towards a kidnapped violet shows us she still cares about her too even if things werent perfect. so if minnie had never been kidnapped, i dont think they wouldve ever actually split up, even if the relationship was turbulent.

what Really causes them to split is the change in the person minnie has become. violet (grief stricken and blaming herself), does not recognize this person, and doesnt like who she sees. someone who would rather hurt the people they supposedly care about to save themselves. unfortunately a kidnapped violet learns this lesson too late

[13ag21k]

I'm at season 3 of Star Wars rebels and the amount of people that have adopted Ezra is hilarious. Like Hera saw this boi and immediately asks Kanan to take him as his apprentice, Rex sees him and immediately decides that he is his little cadet and is responsible for his training and don't get me started on Maul, he sees Ezra for a few seconds and calls him "apprentice"

[somuchbetterthanthat]

It's annoying to know you're not at the good level of writing to write the fics you want to see in the world. My only possible writing strength is yearning, and there's only so far you can go with that.

You would think spending years with les mis would have taught me to write more political intrigue and you'd be wrong. I was just writing little friendships scenes. where people. yearn; it's all i have in my pockets.

maybe this MIGHT make me write a vi yearning for something new post-canon but i'm not even suuure because 1. i still think politics would have to happen and 2. NEW FANDOM, new characters, new situations, needs this to be perfect, etc. etc.

[waitineedaname]

I've been relistening to the homestuck soundtrack album by album while working lately and man. it's reminding me how much I genuinely loved about homestuck, and how that made the aspects of it that sucked so much more frustrating

[ex-vespidae]

i think its weird that sometimes people write a "redemption" Sectonia like she just got revived and nothing phases her, she feels completely separate from the villain we see in tdx, it almost makes me feel like people see her corruption as more of possession? which its not. and also it feels like the corruption hasn't effected her at all, yeah maybe she feels guilty about it, but it doesn't feel like she's changed she just went back to who she was before but also i don't get HOW that would even be possible.

it feels like its missing the most important thing here which is that original spider sectonia and corrupted sectonia are still the same person. she didn't just get replaced with an evil version of herself, the mirror corrupted her mind to emphasise her worst traits. that sort of thing doesn't just go away when they decide to be good now!

also i think people miss the point where sectonia is almost blatantly suicidal in her final moments but you know whatever i guess

[jacksintention]

Concerning the conversation about love and hatred, I've compiled a few of the lines I've saved through these last two years that at times make me think of Jack when it comes to this topic

Estas manos, que son tuyas,

pero que al verte quisieran

quebrar las ramas azules

y el murmullo de tus venas.

¡Te quiero! ¡Te quiero! ¡Aparta!

Que si matarte pudiera,

te pondría una mortaja

con los filos de violetas.

¡Ay, qué lamento, qué fuego

me sube por la cabeza!

(...)

¡Ay qué sinrazón! No quiero

contigo cama ni cena,

y no hay minuto del día

que estar contigo no quiera,

porque me arrastras y voy,

y me dices que me vuelva

y te sigo por el aire

como una brizna de hierba.

.

Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma. This dilemma, destruction or salvation, no fate proposes more inexorably than love. Love is life, if it is not death. Cradle; coffin, too. The same sentiment says yes and no in the human heart. Of all the things God has made, the human heart is the one that sheds most light, and alas! most night.

.

It is sometimes said that the sword wears out the scabbard. That is my history. My passions have made me live, and my passions have killed me.

.

Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.

I adore you, but I hate you too. You’re a prison smothered in flowers. I can’t stand this enchantment anymore, I can’t stand being bewitched like this–when I look at you, my gaze turns to nothing but a mirror of light, I’ll stare at you hypnotized for ages, and when I stop seeing you I’ll feel you, and when I stop feeling you I’ll die.

.

Someone tells me: this kind of love is not viable. But how can you evaluate viability? Why is the viable a Good Thing? Why is it better to last than to burn?

.

Life is a series of obsessions one must do away with. Aren’t love, death, God, or saintliness interchangeable and circumstantial obsessions?

.

she is the only thing of importance, because I have a God-relationship to her.

.

it is not she who binds me, but I who have made use of her to bind myself.

.

The thought that you exist is so divinely blissful in itself that it is ridiculous to talk about the everyday sadness of separation—a week’s, ten days’—what does it matter? Since my whole life belongs to you.

.

What have you done with me? he asks. I have repeated you.

.

But I do feel strange-almost unearthly. I’ll never get used to being alive. It’s a mystery. Always startled to find I’ve survived

Walking home, for a moment / you almost believe you could start again. / And an intense love rushes to your heart, / and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable

.

I clung to him as though only the one who had inflicted the pain could comfort me for suffering it.

I could be free … If I could pluck out the memory of him from my heart as easily as his heart was plucked from the fire, I could be free.

.

I am imprisoned by devotion. I shy away from people. I am alone. I fall into depression.

She was the world That he was losing; and the world he sought Was all a tale for those who had been living, And had not lived. Once even he turned his horse, And would have brought his army back with him To make her free. They should be free together. But the Voice within him said: “You are not free. You have come to the world’s end, and it is best You are not free. Where the Light falls, death falls; And in the darkness comes the Light.

.

I miss you like a knife in my throat.

.

Only love can save me and love has destroyed me.

Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love, an unearthly love but still for earthly objects?

.

My songs are filled with poison - Why shouldn’t that be true? My heart bears a nest of serpents And also, darling, you.

.

their love is like hatred

.

She did not yet love him enough to be cruel to him.

.

our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our love

.

under the sincere guise of hatred I simply loved […], only in this type of love (repulsion) I loved him with greater strength than had I loved him in the simplest form — attraction.

.

Perhaps he was handsome, perhaps I found him attractive, perhaps he repelled me too.

.

Struck by the abstract nature of absence; yet it’s so painful, lacerating. Which allows me to understand abstraction somewhat better: it is absence and pain, the pain of absence—perhaps therefore love?

.

Eroticism is the brink of the abyss. I’m leaning out over deranged horror (at this point my eyes roll back in my head). The abyss is the foundation of the possible. We’re brought to the edge of the same abyss by uncontrolled laughter or ecstasy. From this comes a “questioning” of everything possible. This is the stage of rupture, of letting go of things, of looking forward to death.

.

Love is madness. Doesn’t everyone agree that you’d do anything, endure anything, to be with the ones you love? So either you’re willing to let them use you with any sort of cruelty, so long as they keep you—which makes you a fool—or you’re willing to commit any cruelty, so long as you get to keep them—which makes you a monster. Either way, it’s madness.

.

This madness is so deep-rooted and so useful that it is impossible to realize what would become of each of us if it were someday to disappear.

.

If I must die of fire, why not let me die of yours: knowing that you are the author of my doom will make it more endurable to me

.

His desire for loyalty was naive, he hadn’t understood that being loyal wasn’t so tidy, being loyal means being disloyal to everything else.

.

I have always loved you / Always dreaded you

You will betray me, as I have betrayed, / And I shall kiss the hand that does me wrong

.

Listen: the way I loved you / was like my palm over a flame.

.

If I have the destruction of something that I once loved to carry with me at all times, isn’t it like I still have a companion?

.

One can fall in love and still hate.

.

and I will kill thee, And love thee after.

.

Yet, other characters, namely Heathcliff, Catherine, and Lockwood, remain more actively at war with love in their adult lives. Some force, as inexorable as the wind sweeping over the moors, seems to have bent their lives into a pattern of frustration that their own struggle for relief only aggravates. Their need for love is expressed, not through loving, but through the anguish of loneliness. Paradoxically, though they do not know it, this loneliness is the one condition necessary for the fulfillment of their most profound fantasy concerning perfect love: a love, that is, perfectly protected against the threat of abandonment that in childhood these sufferers learned that love entails.

.

I feel you there, in every pore. Your silence clamors in my ears. You can nail up your mouth, cut your tongue out — but you can’t prevent your being there. Can you stop your thoughts? I hear them ticking away like a clock, tick-tock, tick-tock, and I’m certain you hear mine.

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask? I do not know, but I feel it happen and it is excruciating.

[mainfaggot]

woah okay so i finished checkmate

[haptureratch]

damn so all those times he was distant during our relationship and it hurt so much and i was like having panic attacks and pleading to an empty room, "PLEASE GOD IF HE'S NOT THE RIGHT ONE JUST END IT AND SEND ME THE RIGHT ONE"

damn.... so i wasn't careful with what i wished for, huh?

not very mindful. certainly not very demure.

[not me making an entire novella of affirmations and essentially a whole other post in the damn tags welcome back tumblr 2010s]

[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.