#this is literally what one calls a ''blorbo''

[dirk-menace]

they say like hey draw whatever you like and then a thing that you like is toodoo toodoo toodoo... toodoo toodoo DOOO toodo toodo DOOO.....

sooza is my best friend forever and I'm her number one fan

[aro-culture-is]

Fandom aro culture is wanting to be obnoxious about your arospec headcanons but the idea of anyone coming after you for them makes you want to scream

.

[fgtdgt]

More fruit snacks, ‘cuz I am struggling t’keep this blog alive ( ྆¯∇ ¯ )👍🏾 (lighthearted)

[a-lonely-dunedain]

12.............. with Corunir?

So you have chosen... Tur-Morva. *evil laughter* wherein the rescue instance goes horribly awry in a canon-compliant way

“Eth… Help me” Ethedis hears a weak but familiar voice behind her, one that she would be overjoyed to hear in any other circumstances and speaking any other words. She was a split moment from sprinting down the tunnel, where she had heard Bregadir frantically calling for a healer mere seconds ago. 

Instead, she stops and pivots around to see Corunir collapsed on one knee, breathing heavily and bleeding more so, a deep shadow of crimson growing beneath him. Horror sets in the pit of her stomach.

She stoops to steady him just in time as he falls forward into her arms. “I think… wounds reopened…” he mutters faintly as Ethedis struggles to reposition him to asses his injury. 

“Corunir…?” No response “…Corunir!” She calls frantically, still to no avail. He’s fading fast. She fights to bury the panic welling up in her heart. She has to stay calm if she is to have any hope of saving him. She prays someone else heard Bregadir’s call for a healer, she cannot help both of them.

There is a long cut on his stomach, that seems to be the primary source of the blood. The wound is not fresh, seeming days old yet healing very poorly. No doubt an injury sustained during the Grey Company’s capture and left to fester after he was thrown into that dark cell, just beyond the reach of his kin. It seems to have reopened in the battle. His strength has already been long spent, and this rapid loss of blood would be enough to push him over the edge. His face is pale and his breath slows with each moment, he is minutes away from death.

She puts her hand to the wound, applying as much pressure as she can in her already weakened state. “Please… just hang on. Just a little longer…” she pleads, blinking away tears. He cannot hear her. 

She takes a deep breath and turns her mind outwards, beyond herself and this small corridor. She does not know how deep below the earth they are, but deep enough that she cannot hear the slumbering trees or even reach their roots, but she doubts they would be willing to lend her their power anyway, not while it’s still winter. She keeps searching. She finds some moss, it wants to help, but it is too small for this task. 

After a search that, in reality, barely lasted a moment yet it felt like hours, she finally finds something. An underground river, flowing swift and strong beneath the earth, unaffected and uncaring of all else, yet holding great power. She begs the dark cold waters for aid, to lend her its strength and grant this dying man in her arms new life. 

‘Please. Please just buy him a little more time. Let me save him. It isn’t his time yet. Not here. Please.’

There is nothing. The river has no reason to care. She fears it will give her nothing.

Nothing, and then the sound of rushing water thundering in Ethedis’ ears alone, the shock of cold water in her veins, and an unfamiliar power flowing through her hands. Flowing like a torrent of water too powerful for her to tread in such a weakened state, yet tread it she must. She sends it into Corunir’s near-lifeless body. Close the wound, stop the bleeding, give him the strength to survive. 

There is water now, but not from the river, it flows from Ethedis’ eyes. Her hands tremble and her arms burn as though she has been swimming against the current of an ocean. Acting as a conduit of power such as this would test her limits even on a good day, and this was anything but ‘a good day’. 

She cannot do this. She cannot hold onto this river. Corunir is still bleeding. If she stops now it will not be enough to save him, but she cannot hold on. More water escapes her eyes, a sob from her throat.

Suddenly she feels another set of hands atop her own, calloused, worn, and strong. A familiar voice beside her, it belongs to Golodir.

“Easy, Ethedis, easy. You’re doing well. It will be alright.” If he is afraid, his voice will not betray it, and that is all the better for Ethedis. 

With the practiced confidence only an experienced captain could possess, he manages to steady her. She can hold on a little longer, she is not fighting alone, Golodir found them. He says it’s going to be ok, and she believes him.

She keeps it up just long enough, but not a moment more. She cracks open one eye and sees Corunir's bleeding has finally slowed, if not stopped altogether. Some color has returned to his face as well. She thinks it is safe to stop now. She looks over to Golodir and sees worry in his eyes, but no fear. He simply nods at her, she thinks she hears him say something, but she cannot make out the words. She lets go and collapses. She thinks Golodir caught her, but her body is numb with cold and she can’t feel much of anything. He calls out to her, but she lacks the strength to respond and consciousness quickly abandons her. Corunir is alright at least. Golodir found them, everything will be alright.

(Yaaay Golodad to the rescue! there was meant to be another part to this, where Corunir comes to later and actually has the chance to talk to Ethedis, but it wasn't coming together fast enough so I'll probably just add that part *gestures vaguely* "later". I DO like what I had so far, but it was my first time actually properly writing dialog between those two and I wanted to make sure I did a good job, ya can't rush it. you'll see it later.)

[haunted-doodles]

not really the type who likes posting their ocs much but here's a Nim :}

[iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife]

I might have kinned a bit too close to the sun.

[laesas]

Fic Trope Tier List!

Tagged by @tumsa 💜

I'm so late to the party that I feel like almost everyone on my dash has been tagged! BUT if you're reading this: Tag! You're it! I want to hear everyones thoughts on fic tropes!

I also defintely did this based on how much I love the tropes themselves rather than how likley I am to read a fic with them.

Honestly, I'll read anything for good characterisation, so if an author I already loved came out with literally *anything* on the list I'd probably give it a whirl!

If you're reading this: Tag! You're it! I want to hear everyones thoughts on fic tropes!

[seraphic-sibyl]

[celeryw]

help i think i just tagged three posts back to back for my boyfriend what on earth is happening to me

[milkneutrality]

Marble hornets not having much of a visually distinctive cast can be really frustrating, especially when ur first watching it. Then multiply that frustration 10x because of all the visual distortion/glitching. But nowadays I'm p thankful bcs wanting to make mh fanart is what pushed me to put more effort into drawing faces and making faces look distinctive from each other.

[thefreakandthehair]

smooth operator

written for ‘hole’ | wc: 404 | rated: m | cw: n/a @steddiemicrofic

Crowd-work is Eddie Munson’s favorite part of stand-up. It’s actually become a niche of sorts, and tonight is no different.

“Something I’ve noticed in my time fucking men,” Eddie leads with, strolling across the makeshift stage, “is that you can tell how hot a guy is by how he takes off his shirt.”

The audience chuckles collectively.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. We’ve all seen movies. You, in the navy blue,” Eddie gestures with his chin at a man sitting at a hightop with two girls. “You’re a good-lookin’ guy. Let’s see if you’re hot. Show us how you take your shirt off.”

Without hesitating, Blue Shirt stands up and in one swift motion, grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and tugs it off over what Eddie tries not to think is perfectly soft, perfectly messy copper locks. Turns out, it’s easy to not think about his hair, because every rational and coherent thought he’s ever had about anything comes to a screeching halt.

It kills his set because that’s not the Hot Guy Method he’s been referring to but there’s not a chance in cold, dark Hell he can stand on stage and lie in front of this cheering, clapping audience. This guy is fucking hot.

“Oh my God,” he says in the microphone as Blue Shirt shrugs and flushes, just a hint of pink crawling from the hollow of his throat to his cheeks. “That’s never worked before. That’s never worked. I did not— wow, I did not see that coming.”

The crowd continues to laugh and applaud, Blue Shirt sitting confidently on his barstool with his shirt still in hand. Motherfucker doesn’t even have the decency to put it back on so Eddie can move on.

He’s really dug himself a fucking hole with this one, huh?

“Jesus H. Christ, I meant to do the motion. And that’s— listen, that wasn’t the hot way I meant but for the first time ever, audience, I admit defeat. I don’t know what the Hell just happened, but that’s the hot way now.”

Blue Shirt raises his glass and fucking winks at him, before calling out in response. “Buy me a drink after the show and I’ll show you the hot way to take off a belt, too.” 

Eddie’s jaw falls open and Blue Shirt wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk. 

author's note: sometimes, you see a video of a stand-up comedian and drop literally everything you're doing to make it about your blorbos. this is one such time. @henderdads @steddieasitgoes it’s here!

[evilminji]

You know? I DO enjoy me a DPxDC... but what if we make it MORE?

Because I CAN.

So the Daughter, a manifestation of The Light, got fucked up on Mortis... right? And? For the given quality of an eternal constant? "Died"?

Where do we know... that takes CONCEPTS when they die? The Afterlife of the abstract? The Afterlife of AFTERLIVES? Where literally TIME went to Die? As though THAT'S a thing that could happen.

A place that, for them, is probably more of a rest stop.

Removed, but connected. Full of EVERYTHING and ALL THINGS, across every single dimension from here until the endless? The sort of place that could?? Recharge and rebirth... GODS.

So she rocks up.

Huh.... neat. Very green! Lovely place you've got here! She loves the little Blob creatures. It reminds her of- *long and cheerful ramble about various alien species*

Needless to say? Danny LIKES this one! Some of the gods that pass through are ASSHOLES. But, you know, as "King"? They (the various collective Danny's who became King. Don't ask. It's a whole... Multiverse Thing.) are supposed to be in charge of enforcing the "Everyone Be Cool" directive that the ZONE wants.

Do NOT anger the Soup.

NO ONE survives Angry Primordial God Soup.

So he's more of a... "I mean... Technically, yes that IS what they call me" Sort of king? Why? Ooooh? Tale of Woe? Wait! Let him get snacks and his sister! Ghosts LOVE a good Tale Of Woe! Did it lead to your death? Oooh, ooh! Were you wronged and betrayed!? Tell us, tell us! :D

The Daughter? Can finally? LAUGH about it. Weep for it. Make merry and... well, LIGHT, about it. She was never MEANT to be so somber and serious. So angry and in pain. Her brother has done so much HARM though, you know? He's a JERK! And her Father keeps doing NOTHING!

She's very upset! *various ghosts Booooo her Father and Brother, nod at appropriate points in her story* how cathartic! She should visit more. Visit the OTHER Force manifestations that died off and moved here. But.... oh, she's rather worried you know?

The Jedi. They're her special little blorbos. Babies trying their BEST! And her Brother us CHEATING and being a... A-! Well, a right BASTARD! Could any of you help?

And?? Dani? With an I? Whoms't has JUST hit the ice on her drink? Sucks that last bit obnoxiously, and says~? "Lady. Can I HELP? I'm the PERFECT Clone for the JOB!" >:D

Cause DANI? Has a NEW Platonic Situationship! They fight! They're best friends! He tries to kill her and she shoves his stupid head in a volcano! Takes Teekle for a spa day! They are DIVORCED and never married! It's GREAT! Do you know how much CHAOS they've made?!

She's the Construction to his Destruction! The Yang to his Yin! She goes high, he puts frogs in your chest cavity! They. Break. Brains~☆

But! And most importantly. When COMBINED? HE keeps HER from trying to save everything. Reminds her that sometimes? You DO need to destroy for new things to grow. And SHE reminds HIM that if you destroy everything? All the chaos STOPS. FOREVER. Because LIFE is chaos. DEATH is Order. And WE? Are BETTER then that.

So~☆

What's this about a "thousand year Sith Plan"?

HA! Cute. >:3c >:3c *Choas in stereo*

[kaidatheghostdragon]

I want to merge the trope that ghost blobs re basically party snacks with the trope that ghost blobs are special blorbos that other ghosts instinctively protect.

So i propose: symbiotic ghost blobs. When they're strong, they wander around and explore. When they're weak, their ecto changes so they're tasty to other ghosts. The other ghosts then eat them whole, and the blob settles around the ghost's core, semicorporeal, helping to filter ecto in return for taking a small portion of the ghost's strength, as well as benefitting from the stronger ghost's protection. In a few days to weeks, when they are strong enough, they phase right out and reform, off to go exploring again.

The ghost gets a boost in vitality from the blob, as the extra filter makes up for the tiny energy loss. Most ghosts can take on half a dozen blobs at a time, while more powerful ghosts like Danny could easily take dozens, cause thats how many blobs it would take to filter through the large quantities of ecto that they burn through.

Human liminals benefit from one or two blobs. Maybe its borderline required, as humans might not have the faculties to filter their own ecto, and subside entirely on the ambient ecto, which is maintained by the strongest ghost in the area (whoever owns the haunt).

Basically, eating blobs every few days to top off the ones that left is basically equivalent to taking probiotics to help digestion.

So we have Amity Park, maintained by Danny and his small army of blobs that he's constantly rotating though, and Gotham, maintained by Lady Gotham who is overloaded on too many curses to properly filter the city, no matter how many blobs she collects.

Jason is a sick halfa because corrupted ecto, yadda yadda. Only its not "dumped in the lazarus pits and never got filtered," but "gotham is literally so toxic that all of his power goes to filtering and it still doesnt make a dent, so he presents as powerless and possibly hangry." He may or may not know that he's passively absorbing blobs to help filter, or maybe Lady Gotham hoards them all so he has no concept of symbiotic blob relationships.

Or even better, blob ghosts are what the LoA call pit demons. They think the amorphous red-eyed blobs are aggressive because their constantly throwing themselves at the liminal assassins' faces to try to help filter the atrotious ecto. The pits are extremely corrupt because the LoA keeps chasing away and or destroying the blobs.

For extra angst, Jason and batfam are aware of the pit demons and have no reason to believe that the LoA's interpretation is incorrect.

So everyone is suitably horrified when a visiting Phantom brings a legion of blobs (a typical "I come in peace" gift for Lady Gotham), casually snacking on a few of them. Even more so when he offers a few to the batfam, like one would a piece of candy.

[actual-changeling]

Season One meta posts in 2024? Yes, very much so. We need more of that.

Will this be slightly unhinged? Yeah, probably, so welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner.

Everyone has probably connected the kiss back to the wall-slam scene in Tadfield Manor by now, but while I was re-watching it for the nth time and combing through it frame by frame like a mentally sane person, I realised just how orchestrated it was from beginning to end.

I assume we can agree that Aziraphale called Crowley nice on purpose to get a hint of intimacy out of him, but I think this time it is very different from the other instances during which he reacts with anger to being called nice.

My first main observation is the way Aziraphale positions himself.

We pick up after Crowley's explanation about the non-lethal shooting happening outside, and they are facing each other at an angle, with Aziraphale having stopped a few steps behind him.

Now, until the slam itself, Crowley doesn't move, he remains where he is, waiting. (We'll come back to that in a bit)

However, instead of remaining at a safe distance or standing literally standing anywhere else, he walks a small curve to then stop right in front of Crowley. Not at his side or a little bit away or at a respectable distance—no, right in his face. You can judge his position by looking at the wooden door (?) in the background.

The following camera position makes it hard to see the amount of distance between their faces, but we know that he must be close enough so that Crowley can immediately grab his coat without problem.

Excuse my art skills, but just to make sure everyone is on the same page, have a little drawing showing their positions and movements.

Now, that manoeuvring takes Aziraphale a few seconds, and what does he do? He stalls. Look at what exactly he tells Crowley:

You know, Crowley, I've always said that, deep down, you are quite a nice—

There are a lot more words than necessary! He could have shortened that sentence but he didn't, and on top of that, if you listen to him say it, he makes two noticeable pauses, one after 'Crowley with a little look outside, one after 'that'. By then he has reached his final position, so no more stalling, he can try to finish his sentence now.

Alex, you might say now, of course Aziraphale did it on purpose, but Crowley only reacted to what he said.

And to that I respond, nope, he was 100% in on it.

I know because when Aziraphale stops in front of him, he waits. He does not move, he doesn't shut him up even though he has heard the same spiel hundreds of times—no, he is waiting and allowing Aziraphale to initiate their little game.

This face is not the face of someone who is already angry or confused about which words will tumble out of Aziraphale's mouth. He even arches his eyebrow in a motion that I personally interpret as 'go on'.

Crowley is listening and waiting for the signal, and the moment Aziraphale says 'nice', he grabs him and pushes him up against the opposite wall. It's an extraordinarily quick reaction, the kind you have when you know you're about to act and what you'll do.

Some further evidence that the entire moment was orchestrated by the two of them.

Aziraphale stretches out his arms behind him to brace himself against the wall, he was expecting to be moved that way and intentionally put himself into a position that would allow Crowley to do so.

Additionally, by grabbing his lapels the way he does, Crowley can make sure that the back of his head doesn't hit the wall. If you watch the clip by yourself and slow it down, you'll discover that Aziraphale gently rests it against the wall on his own while Crowley is talking.

Aziraphale is completely relaxed not only because he knows Crowley would never hurt him, but also because this entire thing is a game that they willingly participate in. It is dangerously under-negotiated, sure; luckily they more or less agree on the ground rules.

Obligatory close-up with the noise squish because I am a blorbo connoisseur and not a heathen. The little eye gaze at the lips, and if you ask me, and this is my post so you ARE asking me, Crowley is very much looking at Aziraphale's lips from behind his glasses.

But I have one more observation to make!

I could never quite put my finger on why exactly the scene felt off, but now I am convinced it's because despite the act, Crowley isn't actually upset. There ARE times when Aziraphale actively crosses a boundary and endangers him with his compliments, but this is not one of them. The growling, him baring his teeth, the fact that he is pressing their entire bodies together, him leaning in thar far, and also what the FUCK is he saying?

The excerpt from the script books:

First part okay, I can buy that, a bit basic but alright. But 'nice is a four letter word'? Where exactly was he going with that and how was that sentence going to end? It's close enough to the topic to pass as real for any outsider who might overhear them, but if you actually listen and try to comprehend it—yeah, no, he was about to go full gibberish.

The goal wasn't to yell at Aziraphale about calling him nice, it was all about prolonging the physical intimacy by holding a monologue.

If you still don't believe me, have a look at their faces when they get interrupted.

Crowley has a "whot?" expression on his face and not a single hint of anger or annoyance. Aziraphale has an expression I will lovingly call "perish you peasant and let my demon husband slam me against a wall in peace".

If someone gave you only this picture—no context, nothing—what would you assume they were doing before someone rudely interrupted them? Based on what the fuck is happening on their faces and the complete lack of distance between their bodies, you'd probably assume they were snogging each other senseless.

Which they were, in a way, just without the lip contact.

I rest my case.

[trainsinanime]

Is there a specific scientific term for what I'll call "harm construction", meaning "thinking of ways that something harms someone in order to condemn it"? There must be, right? I see it all the time and it's not new. Let me give some examples in random order.

One of the first cases where I really remember it was at least a decade ago, an online article by a British newspaper, about how an online store had put a pole dancing pole in their toys section. A bit of an embarrassing mistake but nothing more.

However, that article provided several quotes from a British couple who said they were very worried, because their kid could have seen that. It seems pretty clear that their kid did not, in fact, actually see it, but the newspaper treated their concern as if it was a genuine thing to worry about. It was utterly ridiculous.

A more recent example is a call-out ask I received a few months ago and, of course, immediately deleted, but it's still been living rent-free in my head since then, because it was so horribly bad. I'll not repeat the exact wording, but they were annoyed that their victim blog (which I don't follow and haven't for years, if ever, and they don't follow me) was annoying and sometimes said mean things. They very ineptly tried to explain that this might have been part of the reasons why someone else, completely unrelated, sent out hate messages to yet another person. That was the harm that was so big that it supposedly justified a targeted harassment campaign. (If you're the person who wrote that call-out ask, please rethink your life. You were only increasing the hate in the world, not making anything better. I suspect the sender wasn't anyone who actually follows me, but just in case).

The biggest and most prominent example of harm construction right now is of course all about trans people, bathrooms and school sports. Conservatives and TERFs alike need a reason to oppose the existence of trans people beyond "I personally find them weird", because saying that out loud gets them correctly branded as bigots. How do you turn "let's be really mean to a marginalised group" into a progressive cause? By saying that the existence of this group causes harm. The problem with that is that trans people existing does not actually cause any harm, it's literally fine.

So in an effort to construct harm after all, they have searched far and wide for something that trans people could even theoretically damage, and the only things they managed to come up with are "there might be someone with unexpected genitals behind that bathroom stall door" and "the sanctity of gender-segregated sports". If it weren't for their cultural and political power then it would almost be funny how little potential harm they managed to find and how much they have to amplify it. They're just another couple in the newspaper worried that their kid might potentially see a website.

If you look for it, harm construction is everywhere, because we all sort of agree on a surface level that dividing people into "normal, acceptable" and "weird, must be punished" isn't nice, but the instinct to punish people for being "weird" is still alive and well and many people refuse to question it.

At a completely different end, anytime someone uses the word "normalisation" about a fanfic on Ao3, that's another example. We all know making blorbos do weird things doesn't actually hurt anybody (assuming proper tagging and so on), but we still want to punish people who do it wrong. So we construct harm, by arguing that seeing something on Ao3 might "normalise" the thing and make it more likely that someone will do it in real life.

These examples are very different, at very different ends of almost all scales of power and cultural influence and meaning, but the core idea is always the same. So, yeah. There must be a better term for this.

[hoesoflamentation]

𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖔𝖓 // 𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖐𝖞𝖚𝖚 𝖝 𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖇𝖇𝖞!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 // 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI //

feat !! tsukishima kei, hinata shoyo, kuroo tetsuro, iwaizumi hajime

warnings !! reader is afab & written as gn as possible but please proceed with caution. individual warnings are listed for each blorbo. leave a shitty, fatphobic comment only if you want to be publicly shamed to all 1600 of my followers <3

a/n: hello fellow sluts, your overlord has returned. as a fellow chubby!reader, i am so happy & heartened that this won the poll. and don't think that my choice of boys was pointed at all; it was literally just self-indulgence... every hq boy would love the hell out of a chubby!reader >:(

// 𝖓𝖔 𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 //

FEAT. TSUKISHIMA

warnings !! cam!reader/sex work, toys (on reader), just a lot of jacking off tbh

…is bored, so bored, of all the models who look the same, that the weekend he finds your Onlyfans page, he locks himself in his room and dedicates his weekend to watching you pound your plump pussy with every toy in your arsenal. For nearly 48 hours, he milks himself to your videos, until the craving becomes too intense to resist: You’re advertising a special livestream for your highest-paying fans, and Tsukishima knows he has to be one of them. His hand is still wrapped around his veiny shaft as he hastily types in his credit card information to send you an exorbitant tip. The day of the livestream, Tsukishima promises himself he will only look, not touch… but the sound of your fucked-out face whining “Thank you for the tip, Kei!” leaves him pumping his throbbing cock until it’s spurting hot, creamy white all over his stomach. Soon, Tsukishima is typing into the chat with his one free hand: "I'll give you $200 to say that again."

// 𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖎𝖗 //

FEAT. HINATA

warnings !! chubbychaser!hinata, face riding, alcohol use

…isn’t one for locker room talk, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to notice the particularities of his taste. Shoyo Hinata can’t help it if he fantasizes about spending hours sandwiched between a pair of thick thighs, too pussy drunk to even consider coming up for air. So, when he meets you out at the bar where MSBY is having their post-game celebration, his rowdy teammates notice that you’re Hinata’s type even before he does. “That one’s yours, Shoyo!” one player calls out. “Yeah, they got Shoyo's name written all over them!” Hinata, of course, blushes and apologizes for their behavior, offering to buy you a drink. Little did he realize that those very same drinks would lead to him slipping a hotel key into your back pocket and stuffing his face in your needy cunt. You’re nervous to ride his tongue at first, worried he’ll suffocate beneath you… but Hinata laps up your juices so eagerly that soon, you’re the one who’s forgotten how to breathe.

// 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 //

FEAT. KUROO

warnings !! possessive!kuroo, established relationship, lingerie, accidental exhibitionism (if that's what you call it lol)

…will listen to you talk for hours about anything on your mind, so you wouldn’t blame him for zoning out every once in awhile. Hence why you didn’t expect him to remember the time you complained about the difficulty of finding lingerie in your size at the store. The next thing you know, so many packages are arriving outside your apartment that the doorman calls upstairs and asks you to stop ordering things. Little does he know that it’s your boyfriend Tetsuro showering you in pretty little matching sets from expensive specialty stores you would normally never be able to afford. To thank him, you put on the number you know he’ll love most — a lacy thonged bodysuit in lipstick red — and video call him at the office. “So, Tetsu, what do you think?” you ask, striking a flirty pose that shows off all your best assets. Kuroo blushes… and you quickly realize why, as his coworkers cat call and wolf whistle at your display from off screen. “Baby, you know I love it... but next time, make sure I’m the only one who gets to see you!”

// 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒 //

FEAT. IWAIZUMI

warnings !! iwa-chan the ass man, rimming (mention), spanking (mention)

…has worked out with some of Japan’s most talented athletes, but none of them ever made him as nervous as his personal training sessions with you. Because how is he supposed to tell you, his childhood best friend, that ever since he saw the way you stretched out those leggings while you were doing deadlifts, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you? To stop imagining your bare ass cheeks jiggling in his face as he eagerly traces circles around your rim with his tongue? “One… two… three…” Your voice strains as you count reps. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi feels beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and not from the workout. With every squat, your perfect ass comes so close he can almost touch it. It’s all he can do not to let spotting you turn into spanking you. By the end of your reps, he’s gotten so desperate that his cock twitches just from you smiling at him. “Like what you see, Haji?” you tease. Iwaizumi clears his throat, turning to hide his hard-on against the climbing wall. “Y-yeah. Great form, Y/n.”