and it was rushed and i could only think of so many moments

Mrs Willison’s Homemade Jam

by reddit user FamilialDichotomy

As a child, I was a picky eater like I assume most children are. As my parents tell it, my eating habits transcended normal childhood proclamations of “I don’t like broccoli!” and evolved into a refusal to eat absolutely anything of substance. Things other children might eat and enjoy like chicken nuggets, spaghetti, or even a hot dog were shunned by toddler me. It got to the point, they say, where they and my paediatrician became concerned for my health.

Keep reading

Destiel moments in SPN 12X12

Time for my weekly, gif-filled, Destiel recap. I’m going to try and put away all my squeeing and try to be as professional as I possibly can. 

Extremely Gif heavy post ahead. 

(gif credits to @peculiar-angel, @ahoyspn, @weallneedcastiel,  @codestielckles, @mishacolins, @mishastiel, @novaks, @angvlicmish, @flydestiel and @hazeldomain

Okay I already wrote volumes about Dean’s weird posturing in the diner here, but I also wanted to add this bit here. 

Dean knows Cas is not interested in the waitress. Cas does sniff her (?) just to check up on Dean’s stupid theory of waitresses smell like food, but he’s not interested. So what does Dean do? Mary has just told them all off, but he still postures for Wally’s benefit, pretending to be wingman to Cas, when he KNOWS Cas is disinterested. He can’t help but give himself away though-

Seriously, Dean? My devastatingly handsome friend? That’s not being a wingman, that screams I have a secret crush on my ‘friend’.

And Cas is clueless, even after Mandy is clearly interested -

And Dean? Dean’s just thrilled. So thrilled he looks like he wants to die inside. 

On a more serious note, after the boys reach the barn, look at how fast Dean abandons the conversation and rushes to Cas’s side. And he knows it’s bad, so bad. Dean’s method of dealing with people he loves dying? 

Step 1: Try to gauge the situation by using humor-

 Cas is luckily alert enough to snark right back.

Dean asks to see how bad the wounds are, and two seconds after Cas starts showing him, covers it up. He can’t bear to see it.

Dean Winchester, seasoned hunter who’s seen more than his fair share of gore since he was fucking four years old, makes him cover it up because he just cannot bear to actually see Cas in agony. And he’s so gentle about it.

Step 2: Pure denial.

Cas looks BAD. And he’s never been one to exaggerate.

Did you see those micro-expressions? That little lip wobble? The tiny gasp of shock and disbelief? The swallow? Jensen is the the fucking master of these. This is the brief instant where the enormity hits Dean, but he shuts it down. 

Immediately.

Seriously Dean? Time for WHAT? He is DYING and you know it. And this is when he calls for Sam, calls for Sam to abandon everything and come right away because Cas is dying. And this brings us to the next step for Dean -

Step 3: Anger

Dean’s furious. At Crowley, at himself, at every damn thing in the world that stands in his way to saving Cas. And he’s being beyond unreasonable here, it’s not Crowley’s fault and Crowley has no obligation whatsoever to help them out. But Cas, Cas is dying. And Dean’s *this* close to cracking. 

Now, for Cas’s speech. Cas knows this is it. But he has his family surrounding him, he has Dean with him. And he needs to make sure they live. This is the last chance he has for telling them (and Dean) what he feels for them and boy does he!

Mary looks at Dean when Cas makes this statement, cementing who it is that Cas is addressing. 

And Dean, Dean’s unhappy. He knows that the things they shared together did change Cas, did put him into this mess where he has to die slowly and painfully. 

Look at that. Sam’s upset, but Dean can’t even meet Cas’s eyes anymore. He’s feeling responsible for Cas’s impending death.

And finally, FINALLY, after years of Dean telling him over and over again, Cas says they are his family. More specifically, Dean. Cas is thinking of that day, so long ago, when he said-

“You’re not my family, Dean – I have no family.”

But he’s not just family now.

The camera immediately panned to Dean there. Cas was addressing Dean, and Dean only till now. It’s only when he says “I love all of you” that Sam’s reaction is showed at all.

(as a side not, look at how touched Sam is. How many people have told him this?)

And true to form, the Winchesters refuse to leave. And they fight. Mary STILL doesn’t give the game away, I admit I was a bit :O at that, but that’s for another post entirely… Sam kills the Price of Hell, but there’s still no saving Cas. Sam is one who rushes to Cas first, because he’s still able to function. Sam is the one who reassures Cas, tells him that they’re there, that he won’t die alone… :(

But Dean, Dean’s pain is beyond words.

Tell me that is not the face of someone who is watching the love of his life dying in front of him. Tell me Dean doesn’t care. Just try. He’s praying. I just know he is.

But yay, Crowley saves the day! And Dean’s reaction is the only one showed.

Look at the utter disbelief in his eyes. Look at this entire montage afterwards -

The look they shared in the first one, Dean’s expression in the last gif, the pure amazement and relief in his eyes.. It was almost painful to watch. By the way, Sam’s already let go. It’s Dean who’s still unable to believe his eyes, unable to take his hands off…

And this, this was the most perfect ending anyone could hope for -

*sighs*

Cas said he loved Dean. It’s fucking canon.  

he’s the beauty; she’s the beast

so i’m sure the remake of a timeless classic that disney is about to roll out is going to be great and all

but here’s another way we could do things:

he’s the beauty

she’s the beast

for a movie who’s central theme is inner beauty, it doesn’t really do anything to support that, you know? so how about this: adam, our prince turned beast, isn’t an inhospitable monster. because this back story doesn’t make any sense – why is the young prince of this land alone, in a castle, only to be caught unaware by a witch?

so how about this – this is pseudo france, right, so these royals do what their real life counterparts did. they flee. the cruel, greedy king and queen flee and leave their young son behind with their staff. their son who is kind and soft hearted and totally unfit to rule any kingdom (never mind that they’re literally running away from their own people). not only that – they trade their son for their freedom, trade their kingdom for their freedom. to the witch.

so the witch comes, and she doesn’t disguise herself as a crone, goes to him looking as lovely and young as her magic keeps her. but our prince adam has a talent, one many cast-aside, neglected children have developed – the ability to see people for who they really are, and he knows this is no kind young woman in need of his help. he refuses to let her in – and there’s this little twist to the magic, that she can only enter the palace grounds and claim her prize if she’s welcomed in a as a guest, and he, the young master of this castle, won’t let her in.

Keep reading

Truth or Truth

Requested anonymously: A one shot where the reader has never been able to orgasm through masturbation. When Dean finds out, he offers to help.

Warning: smut, masturbation

Word Count: 2300

A/N: Hope you enjoy, anon! XOXO

“Truth or truth?” Dean asks, grinning a little sideways in that way that lets you know he’s just the right amount of drunk.

Truth or truth is the game you play when you’re both feeling a little wound up, needing to blow off some steam. You’re too old for stupid dares and too nervous for dares that might actually make you touch each other, so you settle for sticking to truths. It never amounts to anything, but you both enjoy the sexy words said in the dark as you lie together on one bed, a bottle being passed between you, like you have a life and a personality outside of monsters.

Keep reading

Jealousy Games 01

Originally posted by jikookdetails

Description: You decide to play a game of push and pull with your ex Jungkook, bringing Jimin along for the ride. 

Pairing: JungkookxReaderxJimin

Genre: Smut (M)

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: breath play, dom!Jimin, lots and lots of filth.

A/N: This is chapter one of… well, I don’t know. @ellieljade and I just keep brainstorming more and more for this sucker. To the point of us joking about finishing this when we’re in our 90′s….. Anyway. I hope you enjoy. I’ll be working on part two for Room for Dessert and The Guest House soon.

Keep reading

Sex Tape (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Smut
Word count: 1.9k 

part two: peaches and cream. part three: toys.

Summary: “Well, it’s my last day home.” He said, stating the obvious as you came closer to him. You nodded, silently urging him to continue before he bent over and picked a box up off of the ground which you didn’t even look at. Your eyes were too focused on his face as he continued to smirk, “I just want to remember it, that’s all.” 


Keep reading

Sexting (Jimin smut)

Originally posted by minblush


Summary: On a lonely night, you decide to sign up for an anonymous sexting site. Of course you are matched with the notorious fuckboy you’re constantly trying to avoid. Park fucking Jimin.

Themes: Sexting, Fuckboy Jimin, College AU.

Pairing: You x Jimin

Word Count: 4k

This fic contains: Explicit and graphic depictions of smut, sex over the phone, swearing. 


ENTER USERNAME:

Cleopatra123

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?

Male/Female

WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

I’d rather not say/enter here:

WHAT ARE YOU INTERESTED IN?

Decent conversation/making friends/finding a language buddy/other

PLEASE INDICATE YOUR AGE PREFERANCE:

19-24

CLICK ‘CHAT’ TO BE MATCHED WITH A PARTNER!

YOU HAVE BEEN MATCHED WITH ‘THOR562’.

THOR562: 21 years old- Seoul, South Korea- also interested in ‘other’.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CHAT?

Yes/No

YOU ARE NOW IN A CHAT WITH THOR562, ENJOY!


Keep reading

Foreign

Plot: Jimin always thought his traditional Korean girlfriend was perfect – that was, until he realized how beautiful foreigners could be.

Pairing: Idol!Park Jimin x Backup Dancer!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Notes: I based this off of every single MTL I have seen of BTS dating a girl of a different race or a girl of color – Jimin always seems to be one of the people who were least likely to date one. I definitely do not think that Jimin is this ignorant in any way. This is only a work of fiction. This is for all the international beauties! 2,536 Words

Originally posted by bwipsul

“Oppa, I’m missing you so much!”

“I’m missing you too, my love. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

One of the worst parts about tour was leaving lovers behind. For Jimin, it wasn’t only his lover, it was his home. He enjoyed tour, performing for all of the ARMYs around the world, going on stage; but he wasn’t a huge fan of being in a foreign country. He didn’t know English that well, and he wasn’t fond of being in a place where he couldn’t understand anything. 

“I know,” The soft voice of his significant other brought pink to his cheeks. “Call me when your rehearsal is over.”

“I will, I love you,” He glanced at the leader of his band, who was calling him over.

“I love you too.”

With that, he had ended the call with a sigh, and headed over to his band. It hadn’t even been a few minutes since he cut the call, and he was already missing her – a thought he had experienced after each long-distance conversation with his lover. The short male shook his head and got his head back in the game, his eyes going up to meet a group of people dressed in black.

“This is your dance crew for this city,” The manager announced to the band. “Not all of them know Korean, so if you have an queries, just talk to Jihoon. He is the leader.”

“We understand.”

Once that brief introduction was done, they were all left to their own devices for a few minutes, whilst the leader of the dance team talked to the leader of the band. Jimin had let himself scan over the people he would be working with; not that he would talk to them, he was just curious and bored. Most of them had masks on – no one had really caught his eyes, except for one person. 

Keep reading

“We both tried to grab at the last copy of that desired book at the same time and had a tug of war.” (from this post)

Sterek ficlet, T, ~1.6k words. Basically, I was going to just do a tiny little drabble as a warm-up for working on one of my WIPs, and then I was having too much fun with it to stop.

(Btw, if you couldn’t tell, I totally made up the book series in question. Any resemblance to any actual book is completely coincidental.) 

It’s definitely some kind of torture that on the day the seventh and final Path of Wolves novel comes out, Stiles still has to go to school like it’s not the most important day of the year or anything.

And okay, so it’s not like anyone else in Beacon Hills has even heard of these books except Scott, and then only because Stiles can’t shut up about them, but still. Stiles spends the entire day practically vibrating out of his skin with the anticipation. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t taken in a word any of his teachers has said today. The only reason he doesn’t try to make a break for it during lunch is that he can’t afford another detention on his record, and even so, he’s still sorely, sorely tempted to risk it. In the end, he has to get Lydia to hide his car keys from him.

(He was going to ask Scott to do it, but Scott would have caved as soon as Stiles started begging, and Stiles is definitely not above begging, so Lydia it is.)

The instant the final bell rings, though, Stiles is out of there, flying across the parking lot and gunning the Jeep. The bookstore probably only ordered a few copies, and if Stiles isn’t holding one of them by the time he leaves, somebody’s about to get murdered.

Not that he actually expects any competition, but it’s better not to let these things go to chance. He already messed up once by procrastinating on pre-ordering until they were sold out; he didn’t think it was possible for a Path of Wolves novel to be sold out. He was wrong, and now he’s paying for it by having to physically go to the bookstore to get it.

Either Stiles vastly overestimated how many copies the store was going to order, or else he vastly underestimated how many people in Beacon Hills read these books, because when he skids to a stop in front of the New Releases shelf, there’s only one copy left. One beautiful, perfect hardcover copy.

Lucky for him, one copy is enough.

Except that when he grabs ahold of it, someone else does, too.

For a long second, Stiles can’t even believe what he’s seeing. Another hand, on his book. Another hand that’s not letting go, even though Stiles has already clearly and unambiguously grabbed it by the spine and isn’t letting go, either.

Stiles turns his head incredulously to get a look at this usurper, and it’s Derek Hale. As in, made-of-muscles, leather-wearing lacrosse captain Derek Hale.

Until this moment, Stiles wasn’t even sure Derek could read, and now he’s trying to steal Stiles’ obscure eight-hundred-page fantasy novel. What.

Keep reading

Play Me // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Daddy Kink, Oral (both), Spanking, Teasing, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, and Swearing.

Word Count: 4,915

Song: Despacito by Luis Fonsi Ft. Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber

A/N: This is 100% because of the video that came out. The second I saw him playing the drums again, my mind immediately went to sin. I MEAN FUUUCK LOOK AT THIS GIF PEOPLE, HOW CAN IT NOT? Also, thanks to @stilinski-jpeg for keeping me sane throughout the writing process of this fic. Love you so much! 💖

In case you haven’t seen the video or you want to watch it again on loop if you’re like me. 

Fuck, I moaned internally as I watched him lick his plump lips in pure concentration, an immediate ache already rushing to my core just at the sight of Dylan’s sinful tongue.

His fingers were curled around the drumsticks and his muscles were flexed against his biceps with each movement he made as he played the drums in front of me. It took every piece of discipline I had in me to continue playing my saxophone and not toss it on the ground just to throw myself at him. Dylan had such an effect on me that I was constantly turned on whenever I was around him — and he doesn’t even have to do much to get me worked up. Just the way he is can get me easily horny alone.

It all started the night we first created this blues band. He was the drummer we recruited along with his friends Thomas and Dexter for strings and vocals. The three were undoubtedly talented and the perfect additions to our band, but Dylan… he was the perfect addition to my body. That first night the entire band partied to celebrate the arrivals and drinks were the main theme. One thing led to the other and, the next thing I knew, I was rushed into the nearest bathroom and being pushed up against the closed door. Dylan’s calloused hands gripping my leg and hitching it across his waist as he pounds into me mercilessly, fucking me so hard that I couldn’t walk the next day.

His eyes looked up at me for the slightest second and I could see the small smirk dangling from the corner of his lips, my breath hitching in my throat and disrupting my saxophone playing. Dylan noticed the way his smirk made me feel the need to press my thighs together and decided to play even dirtier by winking. I immediately moaned which came out as a strangled note from my instrument. The entire band looked at me with judgemental eyes at my horrid playing, but I was too busy focusing on Dylan chuckling lowly to himself.

“Alright!” I frustratedly shouted, surprising everyone in the studio. “Can we just please take a break from jamming right now? We’ve been at this for hours!”

Our vocalist shrugged carelessly and looked to his fellow bandmates, all shrugging as well before Tommy spoke up. “I guess we should. Maybe we can get something to eat?”

“Yes!” Dexter sat up from his stool, smacking his hands together. “Let’s go to that restaurant we had dinner at yesterday! They had the fucking best chicken fried rice.”

Everyone else agreed, each sharing the food they desperately wanted to eat there again. Well, all except for Dylan and I who were too busy staring at one another, lust burning our pupils to the point of no return. His eyes dipped for the slightest second to rake all over my body, gazing at the low-cut in my crop top before his eyes returned to mine with a cocky grin now invading his pink lips.

“You know, I think we should play our song one more time.” Dylan spoke up, his eyes never leaving me. My own narrowed, immediately understanding how much he still wanted to tease me. “To get it perfect before we officially record it.”

Again, everyone shrugged and agreed with his suggestion. Usually, I love how open they all are for anything but not today, not when I desperately want to feel Dylan’s dick twitching inside of me again as it quickly rubs against my tight walls.

“No, I think we should eat.” I counterparted, pulling the strap of the saxophone off my neck and placing the instrument in its case. “We need the break.”

“Maybe you need the break, kitten.” He raised an eyebrow tauntingly. “I mean, you do seem tense. What’s gotten you all worked up?”

The glare I gave him was nothing short of intense and full of raging fire. He and I both knew what he was doing, especially since he used that damn nickname that did inexplicable things to me. The entire band’s eyes were fixed on me and Dylan used the opportunity to run his fingers over his scruff as he winked yet again, fully aware of his power against me.

Fine then, two can play at this game.

“Having to constantly blow.” I retorted and it was my turn to smirk when his eyes widened. “The instrument, I mean.”

“Well I think you blow just perfectly.”

I was certainly glad that everyone else in the room was terrible at picking up on our innuendos and the incredibly strong sexual tension between Dylan and I. We haven’t exactly told anyone about us yet — mainly because we don’t even know if there is an us. We’ve been hooking up whenever it was convenient but with Dylan’s crazy schedule, it’s been pretty hard to maintain a physical relationship let alone possibly start an emotional one.

“Just one more?” Dylan teased and my mind immediately went to all of the times I begged him to quit pleasuring me when I was already so overstimulated, but he just kept going at it. “And then, I’ll- we’ll stop.”

“Just. One. More.” I stated through clenched teeth.

Picking up my instrument again, Dylan’s eyes were hooked on me as I licked my lips and wrapped them around the tip of my saxophone. The rest of the band members prepared themselves again and Dylan tapped his drumsticks three times to indicate the starting tempo. As soon as he was finished, we were all off and the song started playing beautifully. Despite not missing and mistaking a single note, Dylan and I focused on each other instead of our instruments. The walls of the studio were shaking at how loudly he was playing, each bang vibrating through the floor and into my body. It only made the aching in my core grow even more uncomfortable as it vibrated my cunt, forcing me to hold back any moan I wanted to release.

I watched as his head nodded along with the rhythm he created, his knees bouncing up and down as his feet continuously slammed on the bass pedal to carry the entire beat of the song. I hated to admit it, but our music would be nothing without Dylan’s talented drum skills. He was undoubtedly enjoying himself, the melody completing taking over his body… except for the eyes boring into mine that is.

Fuck, it should be illegal to look that fucking good playing the drums.

I thanked the Lord when the song was finally over and I managed to play every single note without letting Dylan distract me, despite almost falling prey to him many times. He put the drumsticks down on the floor and picked up the green bottle of beer from it instead, his lips pouting as he took a long sip. I was practically drooling at the sight of his adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallowed the bitter liquid. Everyone else, including me, put their instruments away for the time being.

“Time for grub!” Dexter celebrated and the entire room boomed with laughter at his excitement for food. Normally, I would be right there with him but at this moment all I could truly focus on were the way Dylan’s eyes were calling me.

“You guys go ahead.” Dylan stated, standing up. “I think I’d rather eat Chipotle.”

“You sure?” Tommy asked, everybody already at the door. “You should come eat with us so you’re not alone.”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll go with him.” I spoke up, clearing my throat. “Gotta have those delicious chicken cutlets.”

“Suit yourselves.” He shrugged, guiding everyone out of the studio and closing its door behind them.

It was as if the second that door sealed shut, every bit of sexual tension we were trying to keep to ourselves was released out into the air. Just the thought of what was undeniably about to happen next made my pulse accelerate, my heart pounding against my chest. I wasn’t the only one effected as I watched Dylan take slow steps towards me as if I were a magnet pulling him in closer and closer. He was practically undressing me with his eyes and usually I would blush at such a forward act, but now right now. Right now, all I want him to do is give into the lustful things his eyes are telling me.

“So,” I broke the silence, my breath unstable as he finally reached me and placed his hand on the small of my back. His lips brushing against my neck, making goosebumps cover my skin. “How about we go eat take out?”

“No, kitten.” He whispered, my body shivering at the feeling of his lips touching my ear. “I’d rather eat you out, instead.”

Dylan’s mouth immediately moved to mine and he crashed his lips against my own. I couldn’t help but moan into our sudden kiss, throwing my arms around his neck. His skillful lips meshed with mine in such a fiery and passionate pace, he almost made me lose my balance. My hands didn’t just remain on his neck as he successfully seduces me, but ventured over his back and explored the amazing feeling of his flexed muscles pressed against my palm. Our breaths mingled before Dylan licked my bottom lip with his tongue and I instinctively opened it for his tongue to have its very welcome entrance. I could taste the alcohol in his mouth along with the mint from his toothpaste and all of my senses were heightened, begging for more of him.

I broke the kiss, but he chose to continue teasing me as his lips moved to my jaw then my neck. Not even bothering to hide the fact that he was currently creating a purple bruise on my skin with his smooth assaults. My fingers gripped onto his back, my nails digging into our band’s t-shirt. He chuckled on my neck and I instantly whimpered at the resonance.

“Please, I have been unbelievably horny since the moment you walked through that door today.” I moaned. “Just fucking do something already.”

“Patience, kitten.” Dylan retorted, his fingers moving to the hem of my high-waisted skirt just to tease me. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Not when their friends will be back soon.” I mewled.

“Honestly, they could walk in on us fucking and I wouldn’t even stop.” Dylan nibbled on my ear. “Now, kitten, tell me all of the things you want my mouth to do to you. Teach me your favorite places.”

“You already know my favorite places, Dylan.” I responded and definitely didn’t miss the cocky grin he played on my skin.

“Just because of that impeccable response I’ll give you want you want, babygirl.” He whispered huskily before moving his hands to the back of my knees and lifting me up.

This time I was the one who started the desperate kiss as he walked forwards, my back suddenly hitting the wall behind me. I lost my rhythm with his lips and failed to remain the dominant one when his hands massaged the back of my thighs, sparking more desire throughout my entire body. Just as I was about to try and get my power back, Dylan unexpectedly broke our kiss. Our panting breaths hitting each other’s faces before he started to push me up. I looked at him with wide eyes, but allowed him to do whatever it is he’s planning to do. The next thing I know, I’m so high up that he wraps my legs around his neck.

With my legs dangling over his shoulders, Dylan moved one of his hands to my inner thigh and purposely drummed his fingers on my skin before reached the area closest to my core. I bucked my hips for him to do more and, to my surprise, he actually did. Dylan suddenly ripped apart the thong I wore and felt no remorse towards ruining something I owned, and, honestly, neither did I. I was so glad there finally wasn’t anything keeping him from touching me anymore that I didn’t even bother to think about the consequences.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about how horny you are.” Dylan chuckled, certainly staring at the arousal covering my cunt. My hips twitched the second his finger swiped through my slick folds and a shameless moan fell from my lips when he licked his wet finger with his tempting tongue. “God, kitten, you always taste so damn good.”

“P-Please.” I begged.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Dylan smirked, nibbling my outer lips. “I know that I’m a drummer and I’m good with my hands, but damn kitten.”

“And I’m a saxophone player, I’m very good with my mouth.” I retorted, raking my fingers through his dark strands. “Which I’ll gladly use on you if you just give me what I want.”

“Well, you certainly have a way with words, babygirl.” He stated before finally doing what I wanted him to by swiping his tongue up my core, my vocal chords releasing the most animalistic moan the second the tip of his tongue touched my clitoris. “Damn, you sing the second I touch you.” He chuckled. “Kinda like playing the piano.”

“Then, play me.”

The last thing I saw was Dylan’s pupils dilate just before he dipped his head under the fabric of my skirt along with his hand and began his mind-boggling pleasure on my core. His tongue created fast and steady circles on my sensitive nub, immediate pleasure striking through my veins. However, my body buzzed intensely the moment he pushed a finger into my soaking heat and pumped it repeatedly. My eyes instantly shut tight and chose to only focus on the feelings he was creating inside of me.

I squirmed and my hips bucked involuntarily, my own fingers clutching onto his hair. He grunted at the harsh feeling and my lungs immediately gasped when the vibration of his voice rippled through my core and initiated the build up now invading me. I could feel my nipples hardening against the cheap fabric of my bra and I desperately wanted to pinch them in between my fingers — which is exactly what I did after I let go of him to rip apart my blouse along with my laced bra. Dylan couldn’t exactly see what I had just done, but he definitely put two and two together at the sound of the tearing fabric and didn’t hold back his moan. Letting what remained of my shirt and bra fall to the ground and playing with my nipples in my fingers, I felt as Dylan added another one of his in me. He increased the pressure and the pace, giving more power to my build up.

“F-Fuck, baby.” I moaned audaciously. “Just like that.”

He followed my request and continued moving his two fingers in my tight cunt rapidly, but his lips however wrapped around my clit. His tongue still licked and played with it as well, but now he had added his sinful mouth to the mix. My sensitive nub enjoyed the attention it was getting from Dylan, flashing pure thrill and bliss straight to my build up.

Carefully hearing out how responsive I was being, Dylan decided to do more when he knew I was ready for it. He scissored his two fingers inside of me and I screamed, my body already shaking with its arriving orgasm. Dylan’s addictive movements in my cunt only stopped right when he knew I was going to cum and curled the tips of his fingers against my walls instead, the perfect amount of pressure I needed to fall into my release.

I didn’t expect Dylan to stop as I came, but I certainly did expect him to when I finished. However, he did not halt his actions at all. In fact, Dylan only increased them. His hand removed itself from my core and returned its post on my thigh along with the other one. He pulled back from the wall and my own hands immediately flew to his hair for stability, but I didn’t make it in time. Although his grip on my thighs were incredibly strong enough and wouldn’t let me completely fall, I couldn’t help but squeal when the top half of my body dropped down, by back now resting on his legs.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get more intense, Dylan slipped his tongue into my cunt and I urgently wrapped my arms around the back of his knees. The new position enhanced everything he was doing to me, expanding my pleasure by one-hundred percent. I whimpered and mewled at Dylan’s invasive touch, considering how overstimulated I was. But, he didn’t stop his attempt at giving me more than one consecutive orgasm.

His tongue was deep in me, constantly brushing my g-spot, and he licked around my walls, definitely enjoying my taste by the way he moaned continuously along with me. My back arched and my legs shook again at the feeling of his tongue literally fucking me just as Dylan’s thumb applied unbelievable pressure on my incredibly swollen clitoris. Not only making me reach my orgasm and cum, but literally fucking gush. My immense arousal squirted out of my cunt, certainly soaking his entire face.

This time Dylan did stop, but only when he deemed ready. My core was throbbing intensely as he walked us over to his drumming bench and asked me to place my hands on them for him to pull my legs off of his shoulders and carefully settle them on the floor without the risk of hurting me nor letting me fall. Once he laid my legs on the ground, my butt involuntarily sitting down too, I watched with hooded eyes as he pulled his shirt off his body and used it wipe his face clean.

“Take your skirt off, kitten.” He commanded, unbuttoning his khakis and letting them drop to the floor.

“Yes, daddy.” I bit down on my lip, enjoying the view of him momentarily losing his shit at the nickname just as he stepped out of his pants pooling at his feet.

“Daddy, huh? Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier…” He smirked, taking taunting steps towards me. “Now, why don’t you kneel here in front of daddy?”

I didn’t say anything, I just changed my position to settle on my hands and knees and slowly crawled in his direction. The feeling of my skin scraping against the rug burned, but I chose to ignore it. I could see the huge bulge in his grey boxer-briefs create a wet stain with his increasing precum at how the sight turned him on beyond compare and it boosted me to sway my hips more, my confidence growing. Dylan’s hand moved down to his crotch and he slowly palmed himself over the fabric before becoming impatient and pulling down his boxers just enough to start touching himself. Immediate heat and lust rushed back to my core at the way he pumped his own dick, my mouth drooling at his actions.

Once I reached him, I placed my hands on his bare thighs to steady myself as I settled just on my knees, the rug digging into my skin. Our eyes were locked together, my mouth inching closer to his shaft. He didn’t stop masterbating even when I took his tip into my mouth and sucked profusely, his throat making its own strangled noises. My tongue licked the precum off of his slit and Dylan’s hips bucked, involuntarily​ pushing a little more of him inside my mouth. I swatted his hand away and he let both of his hands run through my hair as I took in as much of his cock as I could. Dylan gathered my hair together in a temporary ponytail and whilst my mouth bobbed his dick rapidly, my tongue would constantly graze against his prominent vein on the underside of his member.

“Shit, kitten.” Dylan moaned, bucking his hips faster. “Your talented lips feel so fucking good around my cock. Thank God you’re so invested in playing the saxophone.”

I moaned around his staff and he immediately growled at the intense vibration, his hand gripping tighter in my hair. Impatient with letting me be in control, Dylan pulled my hair back roughly, my head going along with it. Then he, suddenly, pushed my head right back to take him in again deeply — so deeply that his swollen tip lodged in the back of my throat. Dylan created this new pace where he would pull my hair to guide his dick in and out along with his thrusts. The stinging pain on my scalp from his harsh pulling did not overpower the lust inside of me and I willingly allowed Dylan to use my mouth as a damn fucktoy.

“Fuck me, babygirl.” He grunted before unexpectedly pulling me back and not letting me take him in my mouth anymore.

Suddenly, Dylan tore my grip away from his thighs and let my hair go. He took a step back, my palms immediately landing flat out on the floor to keep from falling. The strands of my hair swayed to the front of my face as he stepped out of his boxers and walked behind me. I heard him fall to his own knees and, without any warning, a loud sound of Dylan’s palm slapping against my skin echoed in the room along with the sound of my scream at the stinging pain of just getting spanked.

“God, I fucking love your ass.” Dylan confessed, sinking his teeth into my cheeks and letting go right after another scream escaped my lips.

“Jesus Christ, Dylan.” I grunted, already out of breath. “Just stop teasing and shove your dick inside of me already.”

“Did you just call me Dylan?” He tisked and I could picture him shaking his head. “You know that’s not what I want, babygirl. Which means I won’t give you want you want.”

“N-No, I’m sorry!” I whined. “Daddy, please.”

Dylan surprised me when he pushed just his tip inside of me, my core pulsing around him. However, he stopped teasingly and it drove me absolutely crazy. I tried bucking my hips back, but Dylan just grabbed my waist roughly and halted my attempts.

“Come on, daddy.” I whimpered at the feeling of his dick throbbing. “Just fuck me.”

“Like this?” Dylan asked, slowly pushing in until he was buried to the hilt before pulling back out at the same agonizing pace. He did this a few times and my body begged for more, not able to withstand the slow rate.

“Faster.” I begged impatiently. “You know how I like it rough.”

Dylan moaned at my commands, but continued his vehement torture anyway and I wasn’t having anymore of it. Bringing my hands back, I ripped Dylan’s off my waist and he almost lost his balance at my sudden movement. Pulling his dick out of me, I pushed him to lie down on the rug and threw my legs over his hips to straddle him. Both of my knees settled on the rug and Dylan’s eyes widened at me before they narrowed with a growing smirk.

“Damn-” He began to speak, but my finger flew to his lips and stopped him from continuing his sentence. His eyebrows quirked in curiosity and I simply gave him the most smug grin I could put together.

“I’m in charge now.”

Dylan’s dick twitched in between my thighs at my new confidence and his hands flew to my hips, allowing me to do whatever I damn pleased. I grabbed his shaft before positioning it at my entrance and sitting down on him until I felt his balls on my ass. His head instantly fell back to the ground, his eyes shutting tight. Thanks to how fucking wet I was from just having two orgasms (and counting), it wasn’t hard to glide him in and out of me. Both of our throats erupting into uncontrollable moans and neither one of us had the intention to stop.

My hands were splattered out on his chest, my nails raking down his skin and digging into it as his own fingers gripped my hips tightly to help guide me. I bounced up and down on his cock, the wet sound of skin meeting every time my cheeks came into contact with his balls. Dylan growled lowly whenever my nails created stinging shapes in his flesh. My build up returned stronger than ever, already licking at my veins. Dylan could sense how close I was from how I tightened around his shaft and his eyes opened, a sense of mischief pooling in them.

One of his hands made its way to our repeatedly connecting bodies and everything inside of me jerked the moment his fingers applied rough pleasure on my clit. A flash of heat spread through my body as I screamed, not able to hide how much I loved his addictive advances. However, it was when Dylan sat up and not only changed the angle but pushed me back a little so he could attach his mouth onto my breast that the build up won. My arms wrapped around his neck to keep some sort of balance as my body violently shook with its intense orgasm. I continued to bounce on his dick and Dylan grunted loudly when I clenched around it. His teeth bit my nipple harshly and I screamed, all of my senses dancing on the surface of my skin.

Even as my body fell limp and stopped moving, Dylan didn’t. His hand on my hips wrapped around my waist and elevated my body slightly before thrusting up into me. At this point, I couldn’t even control the overwhelming amount of screams falling from my lips along with his name.

“That’s right, kitten.” He managed to say through moans. “Scream my name and forget every other name that exists. I’m the only one that can fuck you like this.”

I felt that same flash of heat again, followed by another and another as he continued to thrust up into my g-spot, his cock rubbing so fucking deliciously against my tight walls that it made me want to cry. No crashing waves and no build up, this time a violent pleasure tore through me. A whiplash of ecstasy snapping at my clit and spreading everywhere. Dense streams of cum slithered down my legs and I noticed as it soaked him, dripping down his cock, covering his balls and pooling over his thighs.

His fingers changed its pace on my overly sensitive nub and I crashed again, falling deep into the abyss of euphoria. Each climax was unique and when the final one was drawn out of me, I actually cried — like literally. My tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. My lungs hurt at the lack of air. My throat was dry from screaming too much. My lips were raw from the insane amount of kissing and biting down on them. And every joint in my body ached.

When he noticed I couldn’t handle anymore, Dylan pulled himself out and laid me down on the floor. I was completely out of breath and unable to move my body, but I still watched with hooded eyes as he crawled over me. Each of his knees settling beside my shoulders, his hands moving down to my head and grabbing my hair.

“Do you wanna taste daddy’s cum, kitten?” He teased and I immediately nodded. “I’m gonna need you to say it.”

“Yes, daddy.” I spoke up, my hands holding onto the back of his knees. “Fuck my mouth.”

That’s all the incentive he needed to shove his dick into my mouth and I gladly welcomed it back. Dylan used his hand on my head in synch with his thrusts to control how deep he wants to go. Because he was already so close to his edge from constantly feeling my cunt tighten around him, Dylan was already falling off of it in a matter of seconds. It only took a few thrusts and my mouth hollowing out as my tongue constantly licked his sensitive tip. Dylan’s hot release immediately shot out of his slit and landed on my palate, the delicious salty taste of his cum making me moan.

“God, no one can give a blowjob like you, babygirl.” Dylan whispered huskily, laying back down on the floor beside me.

The sexual tension in the air eased down and was replaced with pure bliss, both of our chests rising and falling with heavy breaths. All of a sudden, Dylan turned around and nudged his face amongst my shoulders. Goosebumps making its ways on my skin at the feeling of his hot breath against my neck as he wrapped a lazy arm around my waist.

“What'cha doing there, Dyl?” I asked curiously.

“Breathing in your neck because you always smell so good.” He shrugged.

“Well, I’m just gonna pretend that’s not a weird thing to say.” I chuckled and he laughed with me.

“Sorry.” He smiled, placing a chaste kiss on my skin. “Would you rather I whisper things into your ear so you remember them when you’re not with me?”

“Hmm, that would be nice.” I smiled before it turned into a grin. “But, I’d rather go eat that take out.”

Can You Keep It? [j.j]

Originally posted by matthew-daddario

Title: Can You Keep It?
Fandom: Riverdale
Characters: Jughead Jones x female!reader, Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, Kevin Keller, Reggie Mantle
Warnings: Swearing, definitely not my best writing :(
Word Count: 1,185
Requested: Nope (because requests are closed y’all)
Short Description: You and your boyfriend, Jughead, are trying to keep your fresh relationship a secret after the town’s golden boy is murdered. You are unconvinced that he can keep the secret. As it turns out, it’s you that reveals your relationship.
A/N: This is my first Riverdale story and I don’t read much Riverdale fanfic so I’m not exactly sure if this fits in but… here we go!

Disclaimer: not my gif

[Y/N] = your first name
[Y/L/N] = your last name


The student lounge was, as always, fairly crowded. Students were lounging around the room, chatting, staying away from the outside or finishing any last minute homework. It was also an area where the primarily “popular” people tended to spend their lunch times, as they were “too cool” for the library. Quiet chatter was all that you could hear as you attempted to concentrate on your English homework, answering a ridiculous essay question for Wuthering Heights. You were sat with Betty and Kevin, working on some homework as Ronnie sat close to Chuck Clayton, undoubtedly chatting him up with her implausible Veronica Lodge charm as she sipped on coffee.

Then there was Jughead Jones, in all of blue-green eyed magnificence. Jughead was tall and lanky, with pale, creamy skin and his signature frown on his face. A bag was draped over one of his shoulders, a raven black jacket covering his maroon hoodie. He seemed to always bury himself behind clothing in dark shades, but you liked the way that it made his eyes stand out so much. His back was sloping alongside the wall next to the vending machine; people watching. Jughead’s trademark crown-shaped beanie was placed atop of his head of ebony hair, and the sight alone made me bite back a grin. Noticing your gaze, Jughead looked in your direction before sending you a quick and discrete wink. You winked in return before glimpsing over at Veronica to explain why your head was turned.

Jughead had been one of your best friends since before you could recall. It was virtually like Betty and Archie; you and Jughead been intimate friends since the single digit days. Any vital childhood memory you could think of had Jughead present; just the way you wanted it. Initially, you had presumed that Jughead had fervent, platonic feelings for you. At some point in the summer of Jason Blossom’s death, you were proven wide of the mark, when Jughead unpredictably declared his love for you. Fortunately, there was something inside of you that was sure you felt the same way.

On July 4th, Jason Blossom had gone missing and was presumed to be dead after his twin sister, Cheryl, emerged after their boat capsized. It was a scandal that had taken over the entire town of Riverdale, so you and Jughead had agreed to keep your relationship away from your friends until the right time to tell them came around. You were less than persuaded that Jughead would be able to keep this secret, but after his fall out with Archie over the summer, he didn’t have many people to tell. Usually, Jughead and Archie told each other everything, but it seemed that the both of them had been keeping secrets.

Keep reading

Jealousy Games 02

Originally posted by yourpinkpill

Description: You decide to play a game of push and pull with your ex Jungkook, bringing Jimin along for the ride.

Pairing: JungkookxReaderxJimin

Genre: Smut (M)

Word Count: 6.2k

Index: 01, 02

Warnings: Jungkook’s POV, masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism. 

A/N: Alright y’all. Here it is. After this chapter, we can officially head into everything @ellieljade and I have planned. You’re not ready, tbh. As always, thank you to Nicole for being my beta and soundboard. 

Enjoy~!

Keep reading

The tragic story of too much info about the sexual relationship of your best friends or why Alya will forever regret trying to kill Adrien

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lunian !!!!!!! Remember when we talked about this? Well, I couldn’t resist writing it. I hope you’ll like it. Crack ahead. And if the title wasn’t a dead giveaway, this has some sexual references in it. Nothing happens, but many are said.


“ADRIEN FUCKING DEAD AGRESTE!”

All the people who were still in the courtyard of the Collège Françoise Dupont run for the hills (or in this case, the school building) as Alya Césaire appeared and walked towards her best friend’s boyfriend with all the might of a storm.

“Dude, I think she means you.” Nino stage-whispered to his best friend as his girlfriend made a beeline towards them.

“But my middle name is Bartholomé.” Adrien argued.

Nino rolled his eyes. His best friend really needed to set his priorities straight. “That’s what worries you?”

Adrien gulped. “Burry me in a polka dotted coffin, please.”

Nino was under the impression he wasn’t kidding in the slightest. “Sure, if there is anything left to bury.”

“There won’t be!” Alya snarled as she lifted Adrien by the neck.

Well, this morning is certainly bound to be interesting, Nino thought.


One day, Marinette will be on time to school. One day. Today wasn’t that day. As Marinette speed walked through the school yard she couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful day it was. The sun was shining, birds were singing, Adrien was being strangled by Alya… wait a second.

“Alya!” Marinette shouted, rushing towards them. “Put him down.”

Her best friend was obviously not happy to have to delay her murder. Meanwhile, Nino considered if he should stop filming the whole thing. If Marinette was here, then maybe there won’t be need of proof for the police for a murder. Though, let’s be real, he would never turn his girlfriend in. He would have just posted the video on YouTube in his collection of An Infinity of Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Piss Alya Off. If he was recalling correctly, this video would be number 2749.

“Alya, what is going on? Why are you strangling my boyfriend.” Marinette questioned crossing her arms, while Adrien was gasping for air on the ground.

“Marinette,“ Alya’s tone was regretful and the sad look in her eyes indicated something bad was coming. “I’m sorry to say this honey, but he is cheating on you.”

And in that moment, Marinette felt her whole world crashing down. “What?! With whom?”

Marinette was dying to hear that answer. Who? Did Adrien really cheat on her? Was it some rabid fangirl who jumped at his bones and Alya just got the wrong impression?

Alya sighed. “With Ladybug.”

Marinette blinked. “Damn.” both her and Adrien whispered maybe a little too loudly. Thus Adrien choked, cause he still didn’t regain his proper breathing.

“That’s… unexpected.” Marinette managed to say, trying to think of something plausible to get them out of this situation. She knew it was a bad idea to make out when only one of them was transformed. Damn Adrien and his filthy thirst for her spots. “It isn’t a problem, though, cause… um… this is… an… open… relationship.”

Oh well, not the worst excuse she could have had come with. Alya crossed her arms obviously expecting an explanation while Nino muttered a ‘dude’ under his breath. That’s when Adrien decided to be a supportive boyfriend.

“Yeah. Marinette has her fun times with Ladybug too,” he said, raising his index finger as if that would help him make a point while he was still laying on the ground.

Why is he like this? Marinette sighed internally.

Alya turned to Marinette with an expression that was a mix of shock and anger. “You are hooking up with Ladybug and you didn’t tell me?!”

Marinette glared down at Adrien, who looked sheepish. “Yeah. And don’t forget about Chat Noir.”

“Chat Noir?” both Alya and Nino screamed simultaneously.

“Yeah,” Marinette stated, looking at Adrien, who finally picked himself off the ground, with a mischievous look. “Why don’t you tell us about your escapades with Chat Noir, Adrien?”

Her boyfriend laughed nervously. “What escapade do you mean?”

Marinette smirked. “Well, you did tell me that Chat Noir found you wearing cute yet sexy Ladybug lingerie.”

At this point, Nino had to turn off his camera, unable to hold his phone anymore. “Dudeeeee.”

Alya, to everybody’s surprise, was silent until now. But there was as much as the shock could keep her from asking. "But what about Ladybug?”

“Oh, she thinks the same” Marinette replied calmly while analyzing her nails.

“No, no, I mean, I thought Chat only loves her.”

“Oh that… well, who can resist this model ass?” she asked rhetorically while slapping Adrien’s ass for emphasis. Nino nodded vigorously as well. Honestly, wasn’t it universal knowledge everybody loved Adrien’s ass?

Adrien glared at Marinette. Not for smacking his ass, mind you. He loved getting his ass smacked by her. But for making fun of his taste in lingerie. Well, if this is how she wanted to play, so be it then. “Of course. So if we are discussing this topic, why don’t you mention that time when Chat caught you wearing lingerie inspired by his outfit?”

’Well, don’t try hiding the fact that once you begged Ladybug to tie you with her yoyo.“ Marinette scoffed, trying to hide her blush. That had been an interesting night.

"I need a bucket,” Alya muttered, not sure what to think of her friends and her idol anymore.

“YOU CALLED CHAT NOIR’S DICK AS A BATON!” Adrien shouted louder than necessary, while blushing.

“I guess, I need one too” Nino said, wishing he will just forget everything that had been said so far. And from now on, because apparently Marinette and Adrien weren’t done.

“Remember when you told Chat Noir that you want a collar with a bell too?”

“Oh, really Marinette, should I remind you that one time when I walked on you and Ladybug and you were blindfolded?”

Nino glanced at Alya. “Are we kink shaming them now or later?”

“Then you asked us if you can be blindfolded instead and, I quote ‘used as your little sex toy’.” that had been a strange day. She had an urge to blindfold herself, Adrien came over unannounced and things escalated quickly and she discovered some new kinks of her boyfriend.

“I guess, if we die right here, right this second, they wouldn’t notice it.” Nino states, but Alya was unable to reply anymore, not sure what to make out of this whole conversation.

“You begged Chat Noir to slap you with his tail belt.” Adrien argued back, while his face was putting any ripe tomato to shame.

Marinette screeched. “YOU WERE WEARING MY FAVORITE PINK STOCKINGS.”

“THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WHAT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT.”

"I’m sure it totally does.”

Adrien scoffed, crossing his arms. “But you can deny they suit me.” he knew she liked them. She even said so that night. They had been a little tight, but she had made him a matching pair better fit for his height.

"Jesus, how many moments like this do they have?” Nino questioned, clearly shocked by how kinky his bro was. And he was sort of afraid fo the answer, if he had to be honest.

“What’s more important, why are we still listening to this mess?” it was Alya’s turn to ask questions that will never get answers. “I’m not even sure if I want to use this thing as blackmail or just erase it from my brain forever.”

“To be honest, it would be much better if Adrien really just cheated on Mari with Ladybug,” Nino said hesitantly, obviously scared of Alya’s reaction. “I mean, I wouldn’t have forgiven him if he ever did that, but at least, in that case, us, innocent bystanders wouldn’t have to be traumatized for life.”

Alya could only nod. Honestly, the mental picture fo Adrien in Ladybug themed lingerie left her with brain damage.

After what seemed like an eternity Adrien and Marinette finished their not so little argument, both huffing and as red in the face as the surface of Mars. Not that anybody would say that out loud, given how much of a nerd Adrien is, he would come with some science facts about the color of the surface of Mars.
.
“So yeah, we have an open relationship.” Marinette concluded, the two of them finally turning to their best friends.

“We got it after the reminder about Chat Noir, thank you.” Nino said, sarcastically.

“Now get outta of my sight, my poor brain had dealt enough with your kinks for now and forever.” Alya ordered waving her hand desperately while rubbing her temple with her free hand.

“Well, if you didn’t want to kill me, none of this would have happened.” Adrien said with a smug smirk.

Alya snarled. "Next time neither Marinette or even fucking Ladybug won’t stop me, Agreste.”

Adrien gulped. Marinette slapped him compassionately on the ass.

Obey (Sub!Jimin Smut)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut (Mother Mary help)

Warnings: SMUT DEAR GOD SMUT, dirty talk, Sub!Jimin, Dom!Reader, orgasm denial, overstimulation, ass play, swearing, bondage

Word Count: 5586

Wow okay so I read @seokvie‘s and @btssmutgalore‘s sub!Jimin fics and they inspired me to write my own. I’m decently proud of this, considering I have 0 experience writing something like this. Thank you to @jin-oppa for gushing about this topic with me and @fortheloveofsuga for just being a good person in general.


Many would look at your boyfriend’s sharp jaw, thickly muscled thighs, and chiseled face and assume that he was dominant in bed. Rough, even. Jimin did, indeed, carry himself with straight shoulders and his head held high–long legs carrying him confidently across the room as his dark eyes zeroed in on something in the distance. He would present you out in public as if you were a work of art, his thick hand pressed into the small of your back and his full lips grazing your temple. If ever any other man raked their eyes down your body, his warm eyes would harden to stony obsidian orbs–either lowering his hand to rest on your ass or keeping direct eye contact with the potential threat as he brushed his lips across the expanse of your neck. Your boyfriend dominated you in romance, indeed. But you had a secret.

Park Jimin was not dominant in the bedroom.

He would occasionally play the dom role, his jaw clenching and nostrils flaring as he rammed into you from behind–leanly muscled chest pressed against your back as he leaned over you to growl obscenities in your ear through gritted teeth. When he was angry, he would pull your hair and bring you so close to the edge that you could feel yourself beginning to tip over, just before he would yank you back again. But that was only when he was so furious that he was seeing red.

Most of the time, he preferred to wholeheartedly submit himself to you. He thrived off of your praise, the little phrase “Good boy” nearly flinging him off the edge and into an orgasm any time you breathed the words into his hair. He loved to be tied up, and teased, and spanked until he was begging you to let him cum. He adored it when you tortured him with sucking on his cock long past he was finished, the mixture of pain and pleasure drawing him nearer to yet another release.

It wasn’t always so extreme, but there were nights when he needed to be controlled and you needed to control him.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Keep reading

Halloween

Summary: Nat and Wanda trick you into going to a Halloween party at the Stark Tower.

Warnings: smut- oral (receiving), penetration; fluff

A/N: Wrote this to get out of my writer’s block. I hope you like it!


“Fuck!” Nat yanked the strings tighter and you gasped for air. “I know I wanted to wear a corset for Halloween but-”

“Authentication is the key.” She helped you straighten. “And look at how great your breasts look.” 

“They do look pretty great.” You admired yourself in the mirror, running your hands down your torso and enjoying the feeling of the leather under your fingertips. “So…are you finally going to tell me who’s going to be at this party?”

“Nope, it’s a secret.” Nat chuckled as she adjusted her hair and makeup. “Don’t worry, you’re going to have fun.”

“You’re in for some serious hell if you’re lying to me.” You pointed at her and slipped into your leggings. “Why do I have to be a sexy cat? Why can’t I be like Victorian royalty?” 

“Because last time you were drunk you let it slip that you’ve always wanted to dress up as one.” Wanda slipped into the room grinning. “I told Nat and she helped me get the costume, now let’s go.” 

Keep reading

Without 🛋️

A/N: This piece is very long and has taken me a long time to write for several reasons. But I hope this is what these lovely people hoped for when they sent in their requests (x x x)! Love you all and I hope you have a great day :)

Harry had always been in awe of you.  

From the moment he had you in his life, his heart had been filled with your gentle compassion. He had admired your instinctive kindness, personally witnessing the way you’d give a piece of your heart to everyone in your life. “Being kind is all that I can give” he’d hear you say and it breaks him just a little when he watches your smile falter for a fraction of a second, before you arch your eyes and nod your head slightly towards him in reassurance. You’re doing it again, he gathers, putting up a front to satisfy the people around you. Making sure they remained lost in their pursuit of happiness while you’re left alone to pick up your own shattered pieces.

Harry had regretted that night the most. The first, of many, where your heart felt particularly heavy as you smiled and whispered “I’m fine” to his concerned eyes. The silk of your dress clumped at your shoulders as you walked away from him then, away from a night of celebrating your recent promotion at work and into a cab to nurse your friend that had gulped too much tequila to shove away his own misfortunate thoughts.

Keep reading

Hot Blooded (M)

Originally posted by eatjin

Summary: As the Crown Princess, you are never seen wearing the same dress twice. Many attribute this to your wealth or your status. If only they knew the reason for your constantly changing wardrobe, was the fact that your husband can never keep from literally ripping your clothes off.

Member: Jin

Word Count: 3.4k

Genre: Smut, Fluff

A/N: A continuation of sorts to Blue Blooded, as I was highly amused by Seokjin’s frustration with dresses as well as the revelation that the man has the strength to literally pick up Taehyung and toss him around (courtesy of an ISAC fancam).

Blue Blooded

As the Crown Princess, you are never seen wearing the same dress twice. Many attribute this to your wealth or your status, the styling of your attire always a topic on the lips of the ladies that attend parties at the palace, and sometimes even some men. If only they knew the reason for your constantly changing wardrobe, was the fact that your husband can never keep from literally ripping your clothes off.

“Jin!” You chastise him when you hear the ripping of fabric as a part of your bodice tears, letting your dress loosen enough so that he can slip the garment completely off your body.

“Sorry,” he mutters against the skin of your neck, starting to walk you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You sigh, not really sure how sorry he actually is, considering this is the third time this week this has happened.

Keep reading

"A LETTER TO MY TEENAGE SELF" by SOLANGE KNOWLES

there will be fear. a lot of it. there will be triumph. a lot of it. there will be constellations you want to reach for but can’t put your finger on. you will trace them like the scars on your body you got from trouble and the times of your life. you will take the long way to get to these Orions. the long way will become a theme in your life, but a journey you learn to love.

you will dive head first without looking into phases that you are certain of who you are.
some of these stages include:

  • the dance-is-life (aka “this leotard is my second skin”) phase.
  • the Bible-thumping-church-camp phase.
    (which coincided and contradicted with the Fiona-Apple-fan-club-president phase)
  • the Nas aficionado-brown-lip-liner-and-Vaseline phase.
  • the Rasta-vegan-thrifter-who-is-determined-to-marry-Brandon-Boyd phase.
  • the football-player’s-girlfriend-who-wears-braided-blond-highlights-and-swears-by-capri-pants phase.

at the time, you are searching. seeking in every corner and pocket of the world for who you are. take your time, baby girl. there’s no rush to get there. you will sow each of these chapters in the land that you become. you will see bits and pieces of them scattered into the skin you grow into. you don’t have to figure everything out now. time will reveal itself. i promise you.

sometimes you push these phases to the max, and when you go out into the world feeling confident in who you are and what you reflect, young folks will call you names and grown folks will call you names. It’s ok. one day you will name yourself, and that name will belong to you. it will not be the ones they ordained: “crazy, ugly, attention-seeking, weirdo.”

i really hate to tell you this, but sometimes you will still get called these things as an adult, except you will actually embrace some of them. you will learn that these are just words. words that only have power if you choose to give them power. every once in a while they will hurt, but you will choose to turn those words into a symbol of beauty.

speaking of words. they might just be your first love. sometimes you can write for hours, just you and the words on the pages. they make you feel understood, even if it’s just you that you’re talking to.

trust in these words, even when you’re feeling wildly insecure. hold on to your journals. cherish them. put them somewhere safe so that they may become a guide for you later, a revealer and a friend.

the lucky stars have been good to you, and there’s a long list of things you’d like to give gratitude to them for, but for now thank them for these three:

  • that you didn’t die when you and your friends drove up a steep mountain in a snowstorm with no experience and bad brakes. that was stupid as hell.
  • that you went to the ensemble theater every summer. i really don’t think you’d be who you are today had it not been for those experiences, teachers, and experimentation with your mind and body.
  • that the universe chose your mom to be your mother.

she is a wonder. you watch her drop off 3 kids at 3 different schools in the morning, pick them up in the afternoon, shuffle each of them to their designated activities, and bring them all back to the salon she owns until she closes up with the utmost grace, love, and kindness.

you realize watching a woman balance being a supportive mother, building a successful business from the ground up that was started in her garage, and giving back to the community will make you feel invincible and like the word “no” is just an echo in the universe that you’ll never know. you often take her for granted, but you know with every joint in your bones that she is a phenomenon and you strive to make her proud. you should thank her out loud more, too; tell her you value her. roll your eyes and your neck less. it’s not as cute as you think. tell her you appreciate all that she does, for she makes the impossible look effortless. she surrounds you with other black women who do the same. you study them, and will constantly think of all their stories, their beauty, their strife and their stride. they break down all of the archetypes and stereotypes that you see of black women on tv and in magazines, so you don’t trust those anymore. you thank them for re-writing the script before it was ever etched in your memory.

because you have your mama’s blood, you are fiercely independent and outgoing. you’ve been starting petitions, building tree houses, and starting clubs since as long as you can remember.

sometimes in the midst of juggling all this, you put a lot of pressure on yourself and often crash and burn. you shut down. you go into your room, lock the door, put on music, and you do not move for 8 hours straight. it will feel like the heaviest and bleakest darkness you can possibly feel, and when you ask everyone to leave you alone and let you be, what you really want to say is “i want you here” and “i need help.”

sometimes it is ok to say just that. it won’t make you less strong or less powerful. no one you love will criticize you or blame you; in fact, they will lift you up.

seventeen will be the hardest year of your life. it will grow you up almost immediately. you will lose your best friend whom you love so much to gun violence in a single moment, and give birth to a new one within a year.

you will be terrified, and it’s ok that you don’t know what the future holds. some people will count you out because of the decision you’ve made to bring another life into the world so young, but you made the decision out of love and will live with the decision in love.

soon enough you will learn how to love and how to exist with love in ways that you never knew. you will learn how to love yourself and how to empathize with and forgive those who may have taken a bit of that pure love away from you.

you have a long life ahead of you, and i’ll tell you it’s not gonna always be easy, but I can promise you it will be fruitful and with much purpose. all the bridges you’ve burned, you had to, so that you could rebuild them to become a stronger and more wonderful you.

there will be pain, there will be doubt there will be beauty, there will be the unknown. there will be so many moments of joy and delight that the whole universe will feel painted in hues of amber and wonder. there will be times you are so sad you can’t lift your head. and there will be times you are so happy that the sensation of life knocks you down. but most importantly, there will be you. a whole, whole lot of it. and you will feel good about who she is and who she is still becoming.

YOI Fan Rec Friday

Hey everyone!! Sorry for uploading this so late, I’ve had a really busy day! Thank you for all your recs this week, I couldn’t include them all so if your rec isn’t on this post it will most likely be on next week’s list :)

Rec’d by anonymous:
over and over by Ceta, Teen, 24k
Victor meets Yuuri in a bathroom. They hit it off from there.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @ria-channn :
The blood in our veins by Ria_channn, Gen, 1.1k (WIP)
When Victor Nikiforov, first prince of St. Petersburg sneaked out with his personal attendant and best friend out of the palace to attend a commoners’ party, he doesn’t expect to get swept off of his feet by a drunk Japanese man.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Devil Wears Gucci by Multiple_Universes, Mature, 23k (WIP)
Christophe Giacometti watched the new interviewee walk out of Victor’s office. Everything about him was wrong from the clothes and the haircut to his general attitude and walk. At the same time there was something naïve about him and Chris was prepared to bet that he’d just graduated from college. “Who is that sad little person?” he asked Victor. “Are we doing a before and after piece I don’t know about?”

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @fisukisuki :
Fire series by IllyasJames, M-E, 9.7k
College the time to have fun and be wild. At least that is Phichit’s intention. So being paired with a roommate who rather stays in was not what he had thought. Then again he is a minor, so having one that doesn’t party did mean he couldn’t get drunk either. So when he finds out that Yuuri does know how to party you can’t blame him for dragging him to a party off campus. Maybe he should have been more adamant in asking why Yuuri never drank before.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
To Boldly Go by xylophones, Teen, 29k
A year in the life of badass science officer Yuuri Katsuki, Captain Viktor “Team Mom” Nikiforov, and simultaneously the best crew and worst crew in Starfleet history.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Golden Sun and Midnight Moon by DiamondWinters, Gen, 9.5k (WIP)
Golden Sun Café opened early every day, 5am to be exact. The owner, one Victor Nikiforov was an early riser. Always up with the sun, rain or shine. He’d have freshly ground coffee pipping hot and ready to go the moment those doors opened.Yuuri Katsuki owns a nightclub called the Midnight Moon and typically sleeps all day, just to work all night. Save for the one morning when he needs a little pick-me-up to take care of some business needs during business hours.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
Vintage Romance for Modern Lovers by Pickitup, Explicit, 5.6k
Yuri wants to seduce Victor but has no idea how so turns to the internet for guidance. Shenanigans ensue.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @paxohana :
Say You’ll Never Let Me Go by Clarinda0110, Gen, 6.5k
Yuuri’s a dime a dozen artist, who had never sold a single piece of his work. In a last ditch effort to make it, Yuuri creates a statue out of marble. A vision of a man that has come to Yuuri in his dreams. He calls him Viktor. What happens when you’re handed your dream and you find out that you don’t want it.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
A simple misunderstanding by Cheyenne Agreste (Miraculous_Holder), Gen, 515 words
Yuuri knew very well how far into the gutter Phichit’s mind could get.
He decided to do something about it.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Pancakes in the Morning by ajwolf, Teen, 5.3k
A year ago Yuuri drank 16 glasses of Champagne and ended up in bed with Viktor. He didn’t know what to call what they had now, but he should have known better then to fall in love with a playboy. A year ago Viktor fell in love with the shy wallflower who had asked him to dance and then seduced him on the pole. He should have told him he loved him.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @artdefines06:
Fatum ad Momentum by maydei, Teen, 42k (WIP)
These are the moments that were lost in the rush for the Gold, and the things that were built within them. A re-evaluation of everything, from day one, the real day one. From, “Be my coach, Victor!!” And how trust, friendship, and love were built from there. Through Victor’s eyes, the story unfolds—the journey and experience of knowing Yuuri.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
no chandelier or spotlight (see you better lit) by drowsycyborg, Mature, 7k (WIP)
the one in Viktor is an actor and Yuuri is his no-name writer friend and they pretend to date.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @omgkatsudonplease and anonymous:
The Suffering of Potya by kiaronna, Teen, 3.8k
At first, Potya believes he’s going to the veterinarian. This means a great deal of cursing from Yuri, as he tries to unsuccessfully lure Potya into the pet carrier. But as in all things, his human wins, and Yuri stalks out the door with carrier in hand, only twenty minutes late. Potya accepts his fate.
Soon, he realizes greater horrors are in store for him: Yuri’s dropped him off with the dopey poodle couple, the snuggly and curly bastards.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Write Me In C Major by Thehobbem, Teen, 55k (WIP)
Victor Nikiforov has just won his fifth GP and Worlds gold medals and doesn’t know where to go from here - but falls in love with Katsuki Yuuri’s music at first hearing. Meanwhile, Yuuri is just trying to bounce back from (what he thinks is) a series of flops when his idol shows up with absurd requests.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Structure of Trust by Axlaida, Teen, 52k
After a mission went horribly wrong, ex-CIA agent Yuuri Katsuki needed a career change, and Private Security was recommended by his former boss, Celestino Cialdini. Now trained as a bodyguard, Yuuri wants to overcome his past mistake and planned to take on his first assignment with confidence.When he heard that famous figure skating coach Yakov Feltsman had received multiple threats over the coming months and was the client to his first assignment, he was thankful that he hadn’t been assigned to bodyguard the coach. Yet, he never imagined he’d be hired as Victor Nikiforov’s bodyguard.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @fullmetalkarneval13 :
Hopelessly Devoted by nerdlife4eva, Mature, 13k
As Yuuri adjusts to life in Russia as Viktor continues to be excited about the progression of their relationship. When Buzzfeed requests their participation in a love-themed Valentine’s Day couples article, Victor jumps at the chance, dragging a reluctant (but loving) Yuuri along with him.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
clean up on aisle five by alipiee, Gen, 5.3k
(In which Viktor finds any excuse he can to see the cute boy who works at the supermarket

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @hawsome :
Radiance by hawesome_writes_poorly, Gen, 5k
In Zemlya, many people can aspire to become students of magic. Stars were the greatest mystery of anything within the magical ranks. No longer did anyone go into magic hoping to grow a star like most magicians did thousands of years ago. It was easier to charge common-folk for potions and spells than to do the impossible. To even witches, the dream of growing a star was an impossible fairytale. But then Yuri fell from the heavens.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
For Anything by Harky21, Gen, 6.4k
The last year skating and living with Victor has felt like a dream to Yuuri. When Victor gets injured at the Grand Prix Finals, the two learn that love and support mean more than any medal ever could.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Fragile, Handle With Care by vodkawrites, Teen, 17k (WIP)
The Pen Pal AU where Victor and Yuuri are pen pals but neither know who the other person really is that no one ever asked for.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Tsesarevich lives! by mtothedestiel, Explicit, 44k (WIP)
Victor is an orphan with no name, no family, and no memory of a time before he was ten years old. Could he really be the missing Nikiforov heir? An adventure across Europe with two conmen will lead him to the answer.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Don’t fly past me, darling (I’ve been in love with you since the beginning) by sibylla, 7k (WIP)
A drunken night at Phichit’s leads to Yuuri’s photos splashed across the Daily Prophet. A month later, World Quidditch Champion Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri’s idol and not-so-secret crush, shows up at Hogwarts. His reason? To coach Yuuri.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @yuurioniceismylife :
Bound to Please by paxton1976, Mature, 40k (WIP)
By a small twist of Fate, Viktor and Yuuri meet in the Katsuki’s secondhand bookstore ‘Bound to Please’. Friendship comes fast as they offer something the other has never experienced before. As they strengthen and grow individually, they realize the other holds the pieces to make them whole.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Canoe-dling: Not Prohibited by shereadsthestars, Mature, 12k
Yuuri is a seasoned counselor at Camp Okenoko who thought he was in for just another run of the mill, shenanigan filled summer with his friends. But he could not have been more wrong as he’s inevitably blindsided by the newest arrival. Enter one Viktor Nikiforov, who’s got the charms and good looks to woo whomever he pleases, and who’s interest is instantly peaked by none other than, Yuuri Katsuki.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Bulge (Don’t Bring a Weapon to a Public Beach) by nagoyadelay, Mature, 2.9k
Victor posts a photo of Yuuri on instagram without realizing that it’s somewhat suggestive. A thirsty skating fandom collectively loses their shit.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @fiorelilyicecastle :
All things must die (except you and I) by Fiorelily, Mature, 24k (WIP)
Yuuri is used to being the creepy God of Death in the corner that no one dares talk to. He’s the harbinger to end all things and the world’s sorrow lands on his doorstep with every new shade. When the God of Spring, with his shining smile and silver-minted hair, tramples on the God of Death’s moment, the Unseen one’s wrath is terrible. Even worse is when Viktor creates an eternal spring of life to fly in the face of Yuuri’s entire purpose.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Selection by Galloping_Monroe, Mature, 70k (WIP)
Returning home on the tail end of an injury that ends his dancing career, Yuri Katsuki is trying to find his future again. As a Five, he knows his options are limited, but when he finds an invitation to Crown Prince Victor Nikiforov’s Selection, he is convinced by a friend to apply.He never thought he’d be Selected. When he is, he finds that his world is changed forever, and that the Crown Prince is not exactly what he’d expected.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Kintsugi by witchbane, Explicit, 78k (WIP) ***Graphic depictions of violence (check the tags!)
Yuuri Katsuki is a hitman burdened with a debt he can never repay. His target: Viktor Nikiforov, next Pakhan to one of the most dangerous families in the Russian mafia.When the two are drawn into a treacherous alliance after a mission gone wrong, the bonds of love and loyalty to family and duty begin to unravel—even as they get more tangled up in each other.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
touch me, save my life by keskasi, Explicit, 6.9k (WIP)
A catalogue of first times.


Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

The amazing “YOI Fan Rec Friday” banner was created by @omgkatsudonplease! I love them a lot, check out their blog!

anonymous asked:

I hate you, now fuck me

How Until My Feet Bleed by @kazliin Should Have Ended

Part of him still couldn’t believe that Yuuri was finally here with him, that this was real and not just another dream….

Digging one of his hands into the skin of Viktor’s back… slowly taking him apart, Yuuri looked at him, face flushed and staring at Viktor with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“I hate you.” Yuuri breathed and his eyes held none of the warmth or joy that Viktor had been feeling just seconds before. “Now fuck me.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut and Viktor felt his fingers still in shock, the words so unexpected and unexpectedly painful that every muscle in his body froze and locked in place….

“What?!”

Victor snapped back, the rush hitting him like he was slamming back down on the ice again. To hear those words spoken outloud was a slap to the face and a plunge off a cliff, straight down the sheer rock face of confusion. Because the last time he was in a hotel room with Yuuri, he had been hearing softly muttered confessions imitating affection, and the sharp twist of reality was too much to ignore.

The chill in Yuuri’s eyes melted at Victor’s outburst, honey brown widening in betrayal of his shock. Whatever haze of lust and alcohol fleeted from them in stark reaction, and Yuuri seemed as frozen as Victor, except for his fingers trembling, curled into the bedsheets.

One breath take in an attempt to calm the mix of emotions threatening to spill forth, and Victor permitted it all burst forward despite himself. “Why are you even here then?”

Just like that, Victor saw all the confidence drain from Yuuri’s face, leaving him pale and then scrambling for shoved aside bedding to cover himself. Victor didn’t bother.

“Yuuri, I don’t-…” Years of questions leapt through every part of his mind, brawling to be the first to fall from his tongue just so he could finally hope to grasp at a single note of understanding. The most and least simple being, “why?”

If emotions and confusion, insistent need to understand were at battle inside himself, it looked like a war was raging through Yuuri. His gaze locked with Victor’s and yet he still looked torn between wanting to cling to it and to flee, clutching at the bedsheets which he brought up to cover himself, suddenly modest. “Why what?”

The tremor in his voice was all that Victor needed. “Why do you… I don’t get you, Yuuri! What the hell did I do to merit you dancing with me one moment and telling me you hate me as you try to sleep with me the next?”

A heartbeat passed. Then two.

Yuuri opened his mouth, no words coming forth, and then shut it. His eyebrows arched high into bangs messed from the heated lead up, and then his expression fell. And hardened. His red, swollen lips pursed into a thin line, and those gorgeous eyes narrowed. It almost startled Victor, to recognize in that moment the contempt he had often seen directed at him when on the podium.

“This! Exactly this!” Yuuri snapped, dropping the bedsheet as he leaned forward, closing the distance Victor placed between them. “The fact that you don’t even care enough to remember!”

“Remember what?!” Every memory of his interaction with Yuuri flashed by, but none of them could account for hate, at least not in Victor’s mind. “What I said to you in the bathroom that one time? That was–”

“No! Before that! You were my idol, Victor, and you broke my heart!”

Before that… Desperately, Victor searched every shred of memory, every hint of an interaction with Yuuri that he had treasured no matter how tense or distant, but there was nothing. “What, Yuuri, I would never–”

“You did!” Yuuri’s words cut in and Victor let him, watching the flush of arousal on Yuuri’s skin turn to one of anger and irritation instead. “I worshipped you and you insulted me. You belittled me. I was just a kid…” Yuuri inhaled a shaky breath and the dam broke. “I went to see you, when you skated your last Junior season. I got tickets as a birthday present, because I wanted nothing more than to see you skate. And after you won, I… I waited outside for you, to get your autograph. And I met you.”

It wasn’t ice in Yuuri’s eyes anymore. It wasn’t fire. It was what Victor had felt so close to, so many times himself, could recognize instantly. Defeat.

“You… you broke my heart, Victor, when I met you…”

Broken did not seem to be enough. Victor shattered, cascading into shards that littered the cold floor beside them. “I… I don’t remember.”

“Of course you don’t. I was just one fan. And you have so many. Why should you?”

He should have. Why didn’t he. “But Yuuri, it’s you. How could I not remember you?” Why would he though. Yuuri was right. He would have just been another face in the crowd. Yet Victor felt like he should. Of all the faces, of people, he should have remembered Yuuri. What had he even said.

“You didn’t. You… I just-… how many other hearts did you break, Victor? How many other dreams did you step on? Or did you forget all of those too?”

The shards fragmented. Stepped on and crushed by each syllable being confessed. He had met Yuuri, broken his heart, and couldn’t even recall how. Couldn’t even begin to guess. “Yuuri, I’m sorry-”

“Whatever,” Yuuri sighed, then shoved off the bed, but Victor reached over and grabbed his hand before Yuuri could grab his clothes off the floor, grateful for when Yuuri stopped and did not jerk away.

“Yuuri, don’t please…” He needed to understand. He would not be content to leave it at that. “You… at the Olympics, you got drunk… you told me that you liked me. Or that you liked my hair, and my eyes. So I know you can’t hate me. Not completely. And Yuuri, I don’t hate you. Please, I just need to understand, so that if I need to spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, I can mean it. So please tell me. Help me remember. Or at least, help me understand.”

Conflict writ itself in bold across Yuuri’s face, but the tension in his shoulders softened and the pull of his wrist in Victor’s hand ebbed away. The digital clock display on the hotel bedstand switched minutes, and Yuuri pulled at his lower lip with his teeth, then nodded. “Okay but… let me put something on first?”

There was a blush tinting Yuuri’s cheeks, softening him into a vision Victor had only seen in Phichit’s photos before, of a delicate Yuuri that Victor had never been permitted to see in the flesh before now. His chest felt too small for his heart as it swelled with the affection Victor had already been so bad at containing.

Without the briefest moment of hesitation, Victor rushed to the corner of the room, grabbing one of his shirts from closet since he had now regrettably torn Yuuri’s. He draped it across Yuuri’s shoulders with a gentleness that Yuuri did not seem to believe.

“I think we probably have a lot to talk about.” Victor tried to smile and felt it bloom into a real one when Yuuri scoffed, a thread of amusement and understatement so clearly wrapped around it.

“Yeah… I think… we really do.”


(The moral of the story: communication can happen, if you behave like a good person and put your dick away for just a hot second)