prompt: yakov/victuuri/yuri's grandfather reacting to welcome to the madness. bonus points if christophe says something about yuri being too innocent for this!
“What the hell is he doing?” Yakov growled from the edge of the rink. Victor and Yuuri were standing next to him, mouths agape in twin shock as they watched Yuri strip, throwing his jacket towards the crowd.
“I…think he’s found his eros,” Yuuri said quietly, gaping at how sensually their young friend was skating, “Victor, this isn’t at all how he practiced it the other night!”
Victor was following Yuri’s routine with his eyes, noticing a dark figure skating onto the ice to join Yuri. They watched as the figure raised an arm, pretending to shoot Yuri with a finger gun. Yuri dropped into a graceful slide, his shirt rising up to bare his entire chest, pants riding low, mimicking taking a bullet from the invisible gun.
“What the hell is he doing?” Yakov hissed again, looking distressed at his student’s actions, “I told him no wild clothing, no stage makeup. Yurachka, you are in for it when you got off of the ice!”
Victor coughed a little, like he was trying to hide a smile. “This is…definitely an impressive routine. Adding Otabek in at the last second was a risky choice. This must’ve been what they were getting up to the other night when they wouldn’t come out to dinner with us.”
They watched as Otabek joined Yuri on the ice now, the routine fierce and, well, maddening. The audience was losing it, Yuri’s fangirls screeching from every corner of the stadium. It was hard to pair in their minds the graceful, ethereal Yuri who had just won gold in the Grand Prix Finals with the wild, reckless skater they were seeing now.
“Johnny Weir would be proud,” Victor affirmed, watching Yuri and Otabek leap and twist across the ice, “But this is going to give Yurio’s grandfather a heart attack.”
Christophe padded up next to them, his mouth hanging open as well, watching the wild teenage display of reckless abandon and carelessness for rules. “Wow, is this how he skates when he doesn’t have medals to win?” Christophe asked, “I thought he was too innocent for something like this, especially after his short program.”
Yuuri was ignoring the conversation, watching as Otabek lifted Yuri and threw him into a jump. Yakov spluttered and groaned at the danger of the move, but Yuri landed perfectly, continuing the routing. Yuuri watched as Yuri nailed a quadruple flip, something he secretly had been working on with him in practice.
“GO YURIO AND OTABEK!” Yuuri screamed suddenly, “DAVAI!”
Victor looked at his fiance cheering excitedly for the wild pair and he laughed, joining in with whoops and hollers each time Otabek and Yuri did something on the ice. Yakov’s face drained of color as he watched Otabek drop Yuri into a spin. He sat down on the bench, mumbling Russian curses into his hands.
Yuri and Otabek went through one final step sequence before ending with Otabek lifting Yuri above his head into a final hold. After the final chord of the music, Yuri slid down Otabek’s chest, far too sensually for his coach’s liking.
“He is only sixteen, what is he thinking?” Yakov groaned, “Oh, the press damage for this is going to be horrible.”
Victor grinned brightly as Yuri and Otabek skated off the ice, hand in hand. “Cheer up, Yakov! At least Yuri has some new motivation.”
The crowd was losing it as some of the more exciting aspects of the program were replayed on the big screens above the rink. Victor and Yuuri looked proudly in Yuri’s direction, watching as he chatted excitedly with Otabek.
“This is going to make next season very interesting,” Victor observed brightly, “Now, who wants to call Yurio’s grandfather and explain?”
From the bench, Yakov let out an exasperated sigh.
I have laughed AN D CRIED a lot because of this fine group. I’m sure many others can relate to that. I would like to take some time to appreciate and note the members individually because they all deserve the world, thanks. (Prepare yourselves, I wrote lots???? Like…. lots.
Some might say that Seungcheol isn’t fit to be in charge of the group. Well let me tell ya baby boyz why he most certainly is. S. Coups naturally has that fatherly type of image. Like “dad of the year” award type of fatherly. There is something about him that influences others to feel protected. He genuinely cares for all of the members and keeps everyone’s emotions in line. It takes a special kind of person to do that. One incident that spoke volumes to me was how he handled “Seventeen Project.” He knew when things were starting to take a negative turn and he wasn’t afraid to voice his opinions. (In a calm and rational way). BOI I CRIED. Despite the put-together (and sometimes tough) image he projects, he’s a rather sensitive person. The reason why he’s so supportive is because he longs for support himself. I think being in Seventeen has made him feel a sense of belonging. The mans has done a wonderful job and he deserves respect. I don’t think there is anyone else meant to be leader.
He was restless in his cave, trying his hardest to get some sleep but without avail. Yuri leered at the night sky from an opening on the cavernous place and he could assume it wasn’t even midnight yet, huffing out a cloud of smoke through his nostrils in frustration. He knew why he couldn’t be still, it was the competition right around the corner and he was feeling the pressure of the same, after all he had to keep the name of Victor high since he was his coach and it was all on how he would perform on the sky. Since he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep no matter how much he tried, he decided then to sneak up some training, the sky was clear and the moon bright, so it was a good and clear night for it and maybe it would make his body tired enough for rest later.
Getting up and stretching his wings and extremities, he flew out into the night sky, soaring quietly away from the other caves to not disturb any of the competitors nor his coach that was in a cave beside his own. Far enough, he decided to head over towards the nearby lake so to have a safe cushion in case when he was flying he screwed up a spin or trick and went falling, water is definitely softer than still ground and he couldn’t get hurt now. With lake in sight, he flew towards the edge to get up on some throughout warm up, stretching his wings and flexing his joints as he thought on which moves to start to train up. A few minutes passed and he felt good enough to take back to the skies, taking a jump and flying in quickly doing a few laps around the lake before starting to do some spins and hard turns at high speed. Soon his moves got more intricate, making closed loops on himself, half loops and drops, or combination of all three. While he worked on those, a thought came to mind, flying upwards fast in an almost 90º angle, reaching at a certain summit before dropping backward spins;
‘Yes!’ he mentally shouted on the last loop as he had slowed down considerably and before finishing the loop, he flared his wings and tail in show to the sky as he fell backwards towards the water. He had just partially replicated Victor’s signature move; the triple death drop and now remaining was the sharp turn near the ground, at the moment water, to fly off without touching it added with a spin. He focused, looking downwards he neared the surface and at the nick of time, he spun, flared his wings and glided along parallel with the water, feeling drops on his scales due how close he was to the surface and how water rose due the air pressure he added. He mentally cheered, a low chuckle coming from his throat but it was short lived, he loosened his tail and it dipped in the water, his tail webs acting as anchor and making him loose his altitude and control, splashing into the water.
He mentally cursed, swimming upwards and breaking the water as cold air hit his maw, huffing in response before swimming towards the edge to get himself to dry. At the edge he shook majority of the water off, blowing hot air on his scales for the remaining water before being startled by moving trees and the obvious blue hue of glowing eyes staring in awe at him.
I had been working on this for a few days now and wanted to have it sooner but work and such. But for @aradan-san who was feeling a bit sick in the past few days and wanted to give em a gift.
Hi! Im a huge fan of your work and your writing in incredible! I think it would be a funny fic to have bughead having a heavy smutty makeout and with all the hormones jug gets a little, "excited" if you know what I mean, so when the group barges in and betty gets off his lap they (arch, v etc) see his hard on and make fun of him - i just think that it would be really funny to see the whole group not taking the relationship too seriously and having a good laugh :) thanks !
Here you go! I’ve gotten a few messages wanting me to write various versions of this particular request, so hopefully this will satisfy those anons as well. It also is a continuation (although not really) of the “Jughead shirtless at a construction site” fic lol. You can read that one here.
A/N: Things get a little steamy, but nothing tooooo sinful happens so I’ll say it’s smutty-ish?? lol ;)
**This got kind of long, so I had to add a “keep reading” cut, so if you’re reading on mobile the story unfortunately gets cut off. Sorry about that!**
Betty set her French book on the thin blanket she had spread out on her front lawn, glancing up at the threatening clouds rolling in across the horizon as she heard the booming clap of thunder in the distance.
“No!” Betty shrieked, already reaching for the notebooks and textbooks surrounding her as the first few raindrops began to fall onto her forehead. “Crap, crap, crap!”
Before she could react, the skies opened up and the rain started pounding violently atop everything around her, completely drenching her books and soaking her clothes.
“Seriously, we were in a drought a week ago and you choose this moment to open the flood gates?” Betty cursed mother nature for her dreadful timing, her wet hair whipping around to smack her in the face as she frantically grasped for the flyaway papers rolling across the lawn.
Betty spun around to find Jughead leaning against Archie Andrews’ front porch, watching amusedly as Betty flew across the grass, the rain coming down even harder the quicker she collected her belongings.
“What do you say? Be the Debbie Reynolds to my Gene Kelly?” Jughead raised a playful eyebrow, referencing one of her favorite movies, Singin’ in the Rain.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Betty shot back, squinting through the rain to glare helplessly in his direction. “Now, are you going to help me or are you going to let an entire week’s worth of homework get ruined by this monsoon?”
“Alright, but you owe me,” Jughead sighed, pulling his jacket tightly around his body as he stepped out into the rain. “I actually conditioned my hair this morning and it’s gonna be ruined by my valiant act of heroism.”
“Just get over here,” Betty yelled, not having the energy to point out that he was wearing the same beanie that he always wore over his conditioned hair, making his point completely moot.
Jughead jogged over to the Coopers’ yard, already scooping up papers and books as he made his way to Betty.
“Last chance to bust out in song and dance,” Jughead pointed out once he had picked up the last piece of homework from the front step of Betty’s house.
“Suit yourself,” Jughead shrugged. “But I can totally rock a mean shuffle-ball-change so I would say you were really missing out on-”
“Inside, Juggie, go!” Betty pushed Jughead forward as he fumbled to open the door, nearly knocking him to the ground as they stumbled over the threshold.
Phanprompt where Dan gains a lot of weight maybe from meds or hypothyroidism and Phil comforts him?
Genre: smut, fluff, angst???(if you squint)
Word count: 900ish.
Warnings: dysphoria, body worship, comforting!phil, insecure!dan, handjobs, rimming,,,,,,
Looking at himself in the mirror, dan let out a sigh. He was sick of looking fat, just because he wanted to be healthy. It was only three months ago that phil had convinced dan to go to the doctor to get some sort of medication for his recurring migraines. They worked, but now dan had gained almost 10 pounds and he was panicking, I mean how much weight could he gain before phil stopped finding him attractive and he left him?
As dan poked and prodded at his tummy and thighs, phil walked into their bedroom looking for his laptop charger, and overheard dan’s grumbles. Curiously, he walked over to the bathroom door, and looked through the thin crack of an opening, to see dan looking sadly down at his tummy. Phil scrunched up his nose, he had thought the little bit of fat on dan had been quite appealing, especially his thighs that now jiggles when he rode phil, but what if dan hadn’t felt the same?
“Dan?” Phil watched Dan flinch before dropping his shirt and spinning to face Phil, blushing and nervously twisting his fingers.
“Oh, uh hey, didn’t see you…um how long have you been standing there?” He whispered the last part but phil heard it anyways, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around dan waist.
“Long enough. You know I think it’s sexy.” Dan scoffs as if to say, ‘yeah right’, but Phil is having none of it. He grabs onto Dan hip roughly and pushes him into the bathroom counter before picking him up and sitting him on it. Pushing between his thighs, phil grabs ahold of both in each hand, “You’re fucking thighs, Jesus they kill me, make me so flustered when you ride me, the way they bounce, fuck, Dan, you don’t even realize do you?”
Dan’s blushing a red hot and Phil is nuzzling his neck, “Not to mention your tummy, so cute when I fuck you, love your little rolls and love tickling you, giving you kisses.” His hands grip the hem of Dan shirt, tugging lightly in a form of asking for permission to take it off and dan nods quickly, whimpering. He steps back and dan whines but phil just pushes off his own shirt, stepping forward again to press their now bare chests against each other hotly, his hands roaming to dan lower back, “Your hips and little love handles are so adorable, Dan, make me want to touch you all the time, love marking them up and knowing I’m the only one who can see them, shit.” His hands flutter to the button on dan’s jeans, looking to himself permission before popping it open and unzipping them, pulling them off with his briefs.
“Love your arms too, Christ, when I cuff you to the bed frame, they look so good, fuck, pulling at the restraints trying to touch me like it’s all you can think about, gets me so fucking hot.”
Dan finally breaks, moaning wantonly, “C’mon phil, please, bedroom now.” His fingers threaded in Phil soft hair, gripping tightly and thighs hooked around his hips securely.
“Yeah baby, I got you. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. You want me to make you feel good?” Feverishly, dan nods, a whine ripping from his throat.
Phil pushes Dan back onto their shared bed, discarding his own pants and boxers, before joining him. Reaching into the bedside table drawer, he pulls out a bottle of lube, popping open the cap and squirting some onto his hand before loosely taking hold of his own member and dan’s in one hand and pumping them together. Dan’s whimpers become high pitched moans and he arches into phil’s tight fist, “So good, Phil, g-gonna cum. P-please, can I c-cum?” Phil shakes his head, pulling from his own hold to lower himself to Dan’s thighs. He bites into dan, licking over the mark before licking and sucking a trial to dan’s entrance.
“Not yet. Hold it for me.” Dan nods, but seems reluctant as Phil’s tongue meets his throbbing hole, lapping wetly at him before prodding gently with the muscle.
“Can’t, can’t hold it anymore please.” Phil pulls back to grab his pulsating cock with dan’s again in his fist, quickly tugging them both, kissing at dan’s neck and groaning out his release as dan convulses under him, their cum collecting on his hand stickily as he works them down.
Rolling off of dan and out of bed, phil grabs a warm washcloth and comes back to find dan with tears rolling down his cheeks, he comes over quickly, “Hey, baby, you ok? What’s up?” Dan curls into his arms, “Just love you, fuck these meds are screwing with my emotions too, I’m sorry, I’m just, thank you, Phil.” Scrunching his eyebrows, phil kisses Dan’s forehead.
“Doing this. Taking care of me, affirming me, making me feel sexy.”
Phil laughs, “Dan! You are sexy, you don’t need me for that. I just couldn’t help myself.” Giggling Dan nuzzles Phil nose with him own, kissing him sweetly before taking the clothe and cleaning them off, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Phil scoops dan into his chest, and dan pushes his face into Phil neck, before they both doze off, not ready to ever leave this feeling.
Sorry this took so long! Hope it’s what you wanted though.
I’M STILL OPEN FOR PROMPTS PLEASE SEND THEM :-))))
A/N: @a-sea-of-fandoms requested: ‘Could you write a Daryl x Reader one shot where
the Reader is upset for whatever reason & Daryl comforts her & maybe add
some sweet sweet love making? And some hair pulling (like Reader pulling
Daryl’) maybe some like desperate love making? - Hope this is ok for you! And
satisfies your need for Daryl lovin for another week ;)
You couldn’t see how things could ever be normal again. He’d
been gone for months, and you were sure he’d be dead. You couldn’t imagine
Negan keeping him alive, feeding him, giving him resources for a second longer
than he’d need to. And Daryl wouldn’t kneel for him. You knew it. It had been
so long without him in the house you were beginning to forget what his
footsteps sounded like coming downstairs, or even what his voice sounded like
and that thought tore you apart. Three knocks on your door came and pulled you
from your thoughts. When you cracked it open, you saw Gabriel, a soft smile on
“How are you?” His voice was quiet and you shrugged your
shoulders, your appearance probably telling him everything he needed to know. “Rick
has asked me to tell you, he needs you to go to Hilltop, immediately.”
Running a hand across your forehead you groaned, “can’t
he send someone else? Daryl’s gone, I
“I know,” he replied sympathetically, “but he insisted.”
“Fine,” you said harshly, “tell him I’ll go first thing
The girl looked down down at you, a mischievous, playful smirk highlighting her despicable expression.
“He’s my boyfriend.”
You were dumbfounded.
No, you were more surprised at yourself for not having realized sooner. You weren’t on par with someone like her. Just by looking at her, this girl screamed elegance and envy, and here you were in a soaked, oversized sweatshirt with your hair resembling that of a wet dog.
Junmyeon had finished his sprint and arrived in front of you, shoving himself between you and the woman who claimed to be his girlfriend.
“Seomin, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He panted, turning around to face you in the midst of your confusion, “Listen, (y/n), it’s not what you think at all, I don’t even-”
“No, it’s okay, it really is,” You smiled at the ground as you stood up, gathering your belongings and preparing to leave, “I’m sorry for not realizing sooner. I’ll give you two some space.”
everyone’s making fidget spinner memes and jokes but as someone who goes to a public middle school in america i feel like people don’t truly understand how painful everyday is because of fidget spinners. everywhere you look, white boys are comparing their different spinners while using phrases like “do you even spin bro?” and simultaneously flipping water bottles. yesterday, a classmate said “fans are just really big fidget spinners” and the entire classroom erupted in applause. they participate in actions such as stacking their spinners and spinning them at the same time. it’s time we stop treating fidget spinners as jokes and recognize them as the abominations they are. pls… stop spinning. contact ur local congress person today
The yell from the bathroom startles you from your place on
the bed, and the sound of several bottles clattering to the floor causes you to
rise painfully from the bed.
The hunt you and the boys had just completed hadn’t ended
without each of you sustaining injuries; vampires, rather than fleeing, tend to
put up one hell of a fight. Dean had a black eye and possibly a bruised rib,
you’d sustained a kick to the thigh that soon formed a purple and yellow
bruise, and Sam had actually taken a long metal rod to the back, causing
several long, red welts across his back that make it painful for him to lean
back against the seat of the Impala.
Stiles could understand why he wasn’t the most likeable person on the planet, or even in his high school.
He was abrasive, loud, analytical, and gave about zero fucks on people’s comfort level. Which, honestly, was fine. He only cared about a handful of people in this God-forsaken world, so other people’s opinion of him could really not be bothered.
Enter Jackson Whittemore.
Ever since Stiles professed his love to one Lydia Martin in the fourth grade with a ring pop (which she ardently did not accept), Jackson has wanted, and sometimes succeeded, in making Stiles’ life hell.
In elementary, it used to infuriate Stiles. How Jackson would always steal his dessert at lunch, or push him too hard on the four-square court, and would always never cease to let Stiles know that he would never get to be friends with Lydia Martin.
And, yeah, sure, eleven-year-old Stiles would ball his fists and try to fight back, but that quickly changed in high school. And he started learning some, interesting, things about himself. Soon enough, Lydia Martin was the last thing on his mind, and so was Jackson and his taunting. In fact, with both of their academic success, he and Lydia found themselves in similar upper-class and AP classes throughout high school. Some would even call them, dare he say it, friends.
But, Jackson, not so much. Even now, at their senior year, Jackson still makes it his mission to give Stiles hell, even though he’s been dating Lydia Martin practically since he tossed the ring pop out of his hand. And it doesn’t help that now, with Stiles and Lydia being friends, and Allison and Lydia being inseparable, and Allison dating Scott, that Jackson has somehow integrated himself into their group of friends.
Which is exactly how Stiles finds himself rolling his eyes at Jackson as they pack up their equipment on the field after practice, Jackson whapping him with this lacrosse stick.
“You’re literally an infant, Jackson.”
“At least I don’t throw like one, Stilinski.” Jackson scoffs.
Scott snickers next to him, and immediately looks regretful when Stiles glares at him.
“I bet an infant would be better to deal with than you.” he snarls, stripping off his practice jersey to throw in his bag.
Lydia and Allison walk over from the bleachers, smiling faces, per usual.
“Good practice,” Allison says to them all, but leans into Scott for a kiss. Lydia’s moved to Jackson’s side, too, and when Stiles glances at them, Jackson has a snarly grin on his face.
“Jealous, Stilinski?” A common phrase from the asswipe since they were kids.
Stiles barks out a laugh. “Not in the slightest.” He ignores the small grin Lydia gives him.
Shouldering his bag, he lets out a long sigh. “Can we go? I’m starving.”
Everyone nods in agreement, starting to move towards the parking lot. Jackson throws an arm around Lydia.
“Yeah, must have worked up an appetite from all that standing around and doing nothing.”
This time, Stiles whacks him with his stick.
“Okay, but to be fair, my jeep has gotten us to Mexico and back.”
“It broke down half way, Stiles.” Lydia deadpans.
“We fixed it! Since when did you guys get all mean about getting into my car.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised it’s been alive this long.” Jackson scoffs.
“Walk your happy ass to the diner, then, Jackson. See if I care!”
And yet, all his friends still make their way to his jeep, because they know damn well Roscoe will get them anywhere.
But, when they get to the car, there’s one Derek Hale leaning against the hood, looking as ominous and broody as always.
“What do I owe this pleasure, Sourwolf?” Stiles preens, walking up to him, but Derek doesn’t move.
“You left your wallet at my place.”
Before Stiles could even reach in his back pocket to check, Derek straightens and tosses it to Stiles, causing him to, of course, flounder and very much not catch it at all.
“Aww, always looking out for me, huh Derek?” Stiles coos, shoving his wallet into his pocket.
“You’re pathetic, Stiles.” Jackson spits.
Stiles whisks around, and God does he want to smack that silly little smug look off Jackson’s face as he walks over.
“I swear to holy Hell, you can walk h-”
“You know he has a crush on you, right?”
Everyone stops cold, and suddenly all eyes are on Jackson, who is looking straight at Derek likes he’s fucking Sherlock who solved the case.
“He does,” Jackson continues. “He likes you, and it’s embarrassingly obvious to everyone.”
“Oh, my God,” Stiles groans, putting his face in his hands. Scott, on the other hand, is bright-eyed and excited, like a puppy who just saw a bone.
Derek quirks an eyebrow. “Do explain.”
And Jackson, oh Jackson looks like he’s just been given a whole litter of bones. “He talks about you constantly, he invites himself over to your place all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he jerks off alone in his room to a picture of you.”
Derek’s head whips to look at Stiles, but he already has his hands up in protest.
“I do not do that, okay?”
Jackson steps up to Stiles, face inches from his. “Just admit it, Stilinski. You have a crush on Derek.”
It’s quiet for a second, and Stiles is really considering what level of Hell would even want to welcome someone like Jackson Whittemore, when Derek speaks up.
“God, I hope so, or this would be really awkward.”
Jackson’s face drops, and he spins to look at Derek. In the background, the snickers of Allison and Lydia or ever so sweet to Stiles’ ears.
“I said,” Derek lifts himself off the car hood, and makes his way to Stiles, who practically beams up at him when Derek takes his hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I hope he has a crush on me, or this would be really awkward.”
Stiles watches as Jackson does a double take from him, to Derek, to their hands, and oh does it feel so, so good.
Scott’s outright barking with laughter now, and Jackson looks as pale as a ghost.
“Great job, dickweed. You just told my boyfriend that I liked him.”
“You… and Hale? Since when?” he spits out.
“Almost a year, sweetie.” Lydia pipes up, probably more smug than anyone since she was the first to know about Stiles’ flagrant homosexuality. And his impeding crush on Derek.
“Aww, babe? Almost a year! Did you hear that? We should celebrate.” Stiles preens, and even leans up to nudge his nose at Derek’s cheek, just to rub the salt in the wound a bit more for Jackson.
“I just found out you have a crush on me. I think we should take things a little slower, don’t you think?” But Stiles catches a hint of a smile on Derek’s face.
Stiles doesn’t stop himself when he feels Derek gravitate towards him, and happily leans into the kiss. It’s sweet and quick, but enough to get Jackson to pretend to vomit.
“Matter of a fact, I think I’ll walk.”
Later that night, when Derek is driving Stiles back home, Stiles reaches out to hold Derek’s hand over the console.
“Hey,” he mumbles, and Derek acknowledges him with a slight nod.
“Do you have a crush on me?”
Derek’s quiet for a moment, and suddenly Stiles feels a squeeze on his hand that makes his smile spread wider than his face.