pour me one

i just wanted to say i’m thankful and happy that we’re all here together and that you guys made this year a little less awful and a lot more bearable. im proud of u for not giving up and still bring here to see the year end. im glad we’re all friends and hopefully 2017 treats u better than 2016. and if not i’ll personally fight the whole year for u bc u deserve nothing but endless happiness after surviving through this year. i love u.

Tag Yourself

Victor:
-Perfect Russian Jesus, right down to the birthdate
-notoriously terrible memory, possibly on purpose??
-here to cry actual pearls and court shy Japanese fanboys
-weak for poledancing

Originally posted by nikiphorov

Yuri:
-literally a dumpling
-filled with anxiety
-goes from 0 to Stunner real quick
-engagement game on point

Originally posted by vvictor

Yurio:
-made of pure Angermonium
-wants to be Cool, dresses like a MILF
-deserves everybody’s love, will accept none of it
-cat aesthetic

Originally posted by loki-winchester-97

Otabek:
-wtf suga suga how’d you get so fine
-holdin out for a hero and glad I did cuz DAMN
-literal savior
-makes motorcycles and leather jackets nervous

Originally posted by keeyd

JJ:
-this fuckin asshole
-ultimate fuckboi
-will play you wonderwall so fast
-but isn’t really into you, unless your face is a mirror

Originally posted by changree

Chris:
-pour some sugar on me
-one look will impregnate cha
-best ass in the game
-perfect wingman

Originally posted by nikifohov

Pichit:
-perfect, pure, right
-literally unable to be harmed
-ultimate hamster momma
-secret theatre kid

Originally posted by viktvr


Yakov:
-why can’t everyone just behave their fuckin selves
-too old and done for this shit
-slut for hugs
-doesn’t know how everything got so gay but whatever motivates these damned kids

Originally posted by lclfluid

okay. okay i can’t just start this and not talk about my expectations from tv!lyra
i usually try not to have expectations of any kind (see my approach to doctor who) but it’s impossible when it comes to my all time favorite female character
so, @bbc - 

  • give me a lyra who’s wild
  • give me a lyra who’s got torn, worn hand me down clothes and dirty knees and bruises and scratches all over
  • give me a lyra with twigs in her hair and stars in her eyes
  • give me a rude lyra, a lyra who yells, a lyra who doesn’t (and frankly, can’t) hide her emotions
  • give me a leader lyra, give me a decisive and arrogant lyra
  • give me a lyra who lies without hesitation, who lies like she’s been doing it all her life because she has, give me a deceiving and cunning 11 year old child
  • give me a lyra who’s still CHILDISH as hell, who looks up to the adults she admires like they’re magic, who bluntly acts like she can blend into societies she admires with varying degrees of success (mrs. coulter’s lifestyle, the gyptians, bolvanger - depends on how hard she’s trying to lie and whether she’s just trying to have fun or actually lying for her life)
  • give me lyra’s and pan relationship - something deeper than anything else
  • yet give me a lyra who seems so different from her daemon - from responsible, planner, voice of reason pan who always has to look out for her
  • YET give me lyra and pan who are children and play together and laugh together and act as the one whole being that they are
  • give me the lyra who drove jordan scholars mad
  • give me lyra who lad gangs of street urchins into wars
  • give me lyra who earned the respect and admiration of iorek byrnison, lee scoresby and serafina pekkala (two of which are monarchs)
  • give me lyra goddamn silvertongue

Publishing work is intimidating; publishing something that you’ve been working on for months, something with a heavy word count and a lot of people involved, is even scarier. You never want to be torn down for something that you’ve spent so much time on. Fortunately, this fandom is typically very encouraging.

I know how it feels to post a monster fic, and to be so excited for people to read it. It’s exhausting and nerve wrecking but most of all, it feels like relief.

With that being said, @tvshows-addict and @anhcor just released a massive fic called Where Your Heart Is. I chat with some of the people (or rather, person) working behind the scenes to help make this story come to fruition, and I know it’s been labor intensive and a lot of work for everyone involved. When a community has come together to create something this big - a community clearly filled with love and support - you know it’s something special. I haven’t read the fic yet - let’s be real, it’s 155k, unless I’m a robot, I obviously haven’t read it yet - but knowing that this fic has been in the works for months and has had so many people actively taking part in it makes me think it has to be good ;) Congrats to the writers and betas! (Now go take a nap!) xx

6

MAAN/NMTD Comparisons Pt. 20

vine
arctic monkeys lyrics meme

SINGLES

  • they’d probably like to throw a punch at me.
  • i’ll be yours until the stars fall from the sky.
  • i’m a mad motherfucker.
  • you’re a rule breaker, baby.

AM

  • ain’t it just like you to kiss me and then hit the road?
  • it’s not like i’m falling in love I just want you to do me no good
  • i’m trying to change your mind.
  • i wanna grab both your shoulders and shake.
  • you and me could have been a team.
  • i’m a puppet on a string.
  • satisfaction feels like a distant memory.
  • unfair we’re not somewhere misbehaving.
  • will you pour me one for the road?
  • i can’t explain but i want to try.  
  • it’s kinda strange now you’re gone
  • have you no idea that you’re in deep?
  • i dreamt about you nearly every night this week.
  • ‘cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you.
  • was sorta hoping that you’d stay.
  • maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.
  • we could be together if you wanted to.
  • you call the shots, babe.
  • maybe i just wanna be yours.   
  • if i had a heart you’re the one who should break it.

SUCK IT AND SEE

  • you look like you’ve been for breakfast at the heartbreak hotel.  
  • i’m sure that you’re still breaking hearts.
  • i’m hanging on by the rings around my eyes.
  • be cruel to me 'cause i’m a fool for you.
  • that’s not a skirt, girl, that’s a sawn-off shotgun and i can only hope you’ve got it aimed at me.
  • baby, i was made to break your heart.

HUMBUG

  • can I call you her name?
  • there’s absolutely nothing for us here. 

FAVOURITE WORST NIGHTMARE

  • try and keep your trousers on.
  • i’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck.
  • i crumble completely when you cry.
  • it seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with goodbye.
  • take off your wedding ring.
  • do me a favor, tell me to go away.
  • stop flattering yourself.
  • perhaps 'fuck off’ might be too kind.
Pour Some Sugar On Me part 2 - Ashton Smut

/!\ PSSOM contains some dubcon /!\

Author’s note : I can’t believe your reactions to part 1 I’m so grateful!! Here is a part 2 :) Don’t forget to drop me a line!

.

I ran to the elevator, passing the gorilla who flashed me smile, perhaps it was gentle but I found it disgusting. The ride down seemed never-ending and I had to swallow back my tears until the polluted air of the city hit my face. I didn’t want to take his stupid car, or a taxi, or a company car. I needed to think. The sound of the city surrounded me like a safety blanket. It was familiar. The ambulances, the honking, the buzzing from people and cell-phones, dings from the crossing lights and roaring engines a reassuring melody. I took in the smell of warm pollution, the burning odor from the work of construction men on the sidewalk, tobacco from classic cigarettes, touch of caramel from those electronic cigarettes and delicious hot Chinese food from a tiny pedestrian street I passed…

Am I a prostitute now? Technically he hasn’t touched me so we didn’t have sex. But I exposed myself to him. I feel the warm tears stream down my cheeks as I walk in long fast strides. I was not a country-girl, but I can tell some things became different since I live in New-York, like my walking pace. I don’t remember the last time I was so responsive to anything surrounding me.

I wanted to call a friend, talk about it but I couldn’t. I was bounded to secrecy, couldn’t mention Ashton to anyone, and there was no point in just telling I had gotten a job at an Escort company… What would anyone think of me? My parents or siblings would be so worried, my old pals from back home would say I became a tramp and people from Uni weren’t that much my friends, I couldn’t open up to them like that.

The sight of my old unfashionable little building was actually a comforting sight. The front door’s code was not working –assuming it ever worked- and the street had this awfully heavy odor of piss, besides, it was not seldom to find a homeless junkie on the steps when they weren’t in the hallway. It was literally all I could find that was in New-York and not in the outskirts of it, now that I was more acquainted to the Big Apple, I knew it was not so important to be in the center and that subway was functioning much more often than the 2 or 3 bus lines back in my home-town. The elevator was probably managed by the same company as the electric door so I climbed the 6 floors of creaking stairs before reaching my door and banging my foot on it. It would refuse to open otherwise. From the doorstep I had a view of my entire studio, the bed, the kitchenette, the door to the tiniest bathroom you’ve ever seen, yet I considered myself lucky I had my own bathroom instead of a shared one.

I stuffed the clothes into a laundry bag Eve had given me, ready to take them to the dry cleaner tomorrow and hopped in the small shower, probably indulging myself to the longest shower I ever had in this flat. Anyway, I would be able to pay my bill now. Speaking of which I still had not checked my tip. Raspy towel wrapped around my waist, boobs hanging loose, I clapped my wet feet to the bed where I had thrown my purse and opened it to find the crumpled green notes. One hundred dollars bills. One, two, three, four. Holy shit four hundred dollars. And I was to get the same amount from Forbidden Fruit. I thought about it for a moment. Even with just two dates a month my life would change so dramatically… And maybe some dates would even cost more. I might even upgrade my ranking in the Agency and become more expensive. Eve would give me my proper contract and attestation or such in a week or so, papers on which I am said to be hired as a junior commercial if I recall, justifying my variable incomes, but the contract says I can’t earn less than 800$ a month. She said it was just a number and I reckoned she meant I’d earn far less but starting to think about it, she meant I would earn incredibly more… I would maybe be able to get out of this shitty studio. I wouldn’t get anything fancy, just maybe a better neighborhood and a real bathroom : that would be so incredible. I made the decision to spend my first tips, just spend them like there’s no tomorrow, I’ll spend on important matters with the pay but for now I needed to indulge myself to a few luxuries. I reach for my old laptop like a maniac and googled to find a sushi company.

“I’ll be having four beef'n'cheese yakitori, the Sakura menu- yeah the one with the maki rolls and California rolls, and a Maiko menu please. Yeah, with a beer and Vanilla Mochis. Could you call me when you’re there, I’m sorry the door doesn’t work.”

I dressed in pajamas and flip-flops, excited and mouth-watering at the perspective of my dinner. The food arrived with two sets of chopsticks, indicating me how much food I had ordered, but I didn’t care. I had not been able to treat myself to some Japanese food ever since I had moved here. I fell asleep, stomach and wallet full, more confident about tomorrow.

The next morning I had no class, and my first reflex was to check for the bills in my wallet. I decided I deserved a Starbucks breakfast, another gastronomic luxury I had been denied. I made a mental promise that I wouldn’t spend everything on food : I’d need to go to the gym a lot otherwise.

I walked to the office and asked for Eve at the reception, she had asked me to some today to have a little feedback on my first real working day, which I found very thoughtful of her. She greeted me warmly and with pride on her face.

“You, my girl, must have done something absolutely amazing.” she slowly spoke, setting down two coffees fresh from a shiny Nespresso machine that was in her office. I noticed the purple orchids on the glass table, they smelled of sophistication and majesty.

“But Ashton Irwin are you serious?” I blurted out.

“So, is he that cute in real life?” she asked sounding for a moment more like a friend than a boss. “Oh come on darling not because I could be his mom that I can’t appreciate beauty when I see it.”

“He… he’s stunning.”

“Thought so. How did it go, did you have sex with him?” she licked the tiny spoon of her coffee, though she did not put any sugar in it. I tore the package from mine and let it dissolve into the black liquid.

“N-no.” this was nearly as awkward as when my mom first asked me quite the same question, a few years ago.

“I would have bet on it. He seems to have a few fetishes if you know what I mean…” she spoke lazily with a half-smile. “What did you do?”

“I, I masturbated for him. And he masturbated too.”

“Did you feel comfortable there?” she kindly asked.

“As much as I could yeah… I guess yeah.” Which was true. A few fetishes, what does she mean? I don’t know what she means but I feel too stupid to ask.

“He did not force you into anything, correct?” she raised an eyebrow holding my gaze. “Y/N, if anything ever happens against your will you must know that I will stick with you, you have a contract but so have the men and it includes treating you with respect. Not necessarily be nice, but correct.”

“He was fine don’t worry.” She was instantly more relaxed.

“But what did you do?”

“I don’t know! Why?”

“He wants to see you again. He seemed to like you.”

He liked me.

“Come on Y/N don’t play coy he must have tell you something that gave you the hint he enjoyed your presence, he must have been nice or talkative? You didn’t even have sex for Christ sake!”

“He erm, no really he was rather cool and distant, made me undress, made me make tea, made me masturbate, let me use the bathroom.” I recalled counting on my fingers. “Then yeah he tipped me and offered me to use his driver…”

“How much did he tip you?” she asked, curious. “Don’t fret darling this money is all yours, I just want to know.”

“400$. Eve I still don’t get it why does the guy call us?”

“Y/N do you have any idea how complicated it is for him to find someone?”

“Are you joking I bet a guy would be keen on banging him too!” I dropped incredulous. “Hell, my own sister would agree to his every fantasy!”

“But how do you find someone when you are him? Y/N their lives are over-controlled : they can’t just chat up a girl and bring her upstairs for a quick shag, nor just give away their phone numbers to get to know someone. When would they find the time or place to romance a woman? Yet, they have needs, physical or intellectual needs, you and the Fruits are here to fulfill them.”

I remained silent for a moment. Sure it all fell into place but still, how terribly sad of a life.

 

“He’d like you to meet him later in the afternoon if that is alright with you, I believe you are free today?” Eve pulled me out of my daze.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Great, I shall give him your professional number then. I get a copy of every text sent or received, it’s not privacy invasion it’s just protection to know where you are and with who, shall you decide to use this phone for anything else than setting up a meeting I’m just letting you know. You can go home and perhaps change, have a nice day Y/N.” and with that she kindly dismissed me.

My professional mobile buzzed soon enough.

Y/N meet me at 5pm, we have a bit of shopping to do.

Alright, what kind?

I will be a little unusually dressed, but you can dress casual.

What? Why?

I can’t exactly be seen where we are going. Don’t worry I’ll recognize you. Do you need a car?

No thank you.

I tapped on his last message containing the address and it automatically sent me to the map app. I just love this new phone, I thought while it finished loading. A sex shop. Really… I took in the information and proceeded it. It was a bit risky for him to be seen in these places. I get it, his fans could be really young and if a picture of him entering a sex shop was to leak all over the Internet, it would create a frenzy among the young 5SOS fam as they dubbed themselves. I pictured for a second my sister in her poster-plastered room, scrolling on her laptop to see pictures of her idol buying dirty sinful goods. First it could disturb and influence the young fans into depravation or whatever and second –probably more important to Ashton’s management- if it was to make the news parents would see it and disapprove of the band, meaning they wouldn’t buy merch and else. My parents were not the strongest believers when it came to this doctrine that sex is a holy thing to happen for procreation only, but social pressure was heavy. I feel like we’re missing something about sex in America. By mystifying it we seem to only make it less understandable and natural, especially for young people. My memory of sex-ed consisted in an awkward talk pretty similar to the one in “Mean girls” : Don’t have sex or you’ll get pregnant and die. I grew up in a small town, we had no sex shop and to be honest I had never been in one so I was a little excited and curious about it.

I dressed casual like he said. But checking at myself I decided to change : I wanted to look good for him. I replaced the jeans with a cute skirt but kept the simple t-shirt and sneakers. Nice but still casual. I was at the address he sent me pretty quick and paced the sidewalk, looking around for the handsome man I had a date with.

“Hello Y/N.” his unmistakable voice startled me. He had a beanie and sunglasses hiding his face, a maroon jumper and some blue jeans way looser than his classic attire. He didn’t really look like himself, you’d have to pay attention to recognize him. Coming to think of it, look does matter, because he would be easy to spot with signature black skinnies and torn revealing shirt, yet no one would really notice this average man who stood in front of me.

“Hello Ashton.” I piped in a higher voice than I intended.

“Shall we?” he motioned for the heavy curtain and I took a deep breath entering the place. Quite nice, not the weird kind of place I had in mind. At all. I knew there were some nice girly shops but they were probably filled with people who’d have higher chances to notice him than here.

“Why are we here?” I muttered to his exclusive attention.

“We need a few toys and stuff to play.” He very simply stated.

He led me straight to a corner where all sizes and colors sex toys were on display. It looked a little like a candy store, an odd mature candy store.

“Pick one.” He encouraged.

I started touching at the different testers, weighing them and feeling the texture, nervous. I noticed Ashton shifting next to me and clearing his throat. I couldn’t help but reach for a huge thing with a little rabbit in addition to the main length. It was appropriately called a Rabbit, made in a jelly material, and vibrating so that the ears of the rabbit would vibrate against the clit as you slid the length that could spin on itself. Fascinating… I could just imagine the feeling from- Disturbed by a cough from Ashton I quickly put it back and grabbed a box with a regular vibrating pink toy.

“This one.”

“Yeah?”

“It looks pretty much like the one I have.” I admitted. It was a gift from my friends, a joke they had ordered online when I had gotten accepted at University in New-York, little reference to Sex and the city, but it had become quite handy, though I had never confessed that to my pals. Ashton smiled, he grabbed a box and my eyes darted to the shelf to know what it was : a silk mask. He stopped and his fingers reached for a small crop as he emitted a discreet sigh. I tensed. Did he want to beat me?

“What are these?” I asked showing him a weird tube with a squeezing stuff attached.

“Pumps, they’re meant to enlarge penises. It’s for those who didn’t come out as lucky as me.” He just said with a smug smile. Somehow I found this little arrogance quite arousing.

“Do you enjoy massages Y/N?” he asked, very formal which made me laugh a little as I nodded. He picked something that looked a bit like a candle and threw it in the basket he carried. We were standing in front of a shelve full of small oddly shaped items. A box read “Anal” and it clicked in my mind.

“See one that you like?” he set his hand on my waist and I shivered. Not really, I I’ve never used one so I’m a little clueless. I wish he had bought all this stuff without me. No, on a second thinking I like being here and I like the feeling of his palm burning my waist at the sight of everyone who might watch.

“I don’t know…” I muttered, chewing the inside of my mouth. “Choose for me maybe?” I asked fluttering my eyelashes at him in a flirty way. His stunning eyes locked with mine and I feel something. He takes one, a small sparkly thing. Before adding anything new he raises his eyebrows at me and I generally answer with a coy smile. I only suppress a chuckle when I see him pick a feather thing.

“Last but not least…” he said to himself looking at lingerie items. To me, a sex shop was selling latex and leather, chains and such, but Ashton was grazing at the lace of some white panties. He picked two babydoll nighties, a sheer one with black patterns and a fuchsia one with ruffled layers at the chest. They were pretty to be honest, really beautiful. I felt a little flattered he was picking out outfits he wanted to see me in, and for an instant I forgot I was getting paid by him for this. I noticed him grabbing some panties, and some heels, which got me wondering how the hell he knew which size to get.

“Would you like anything else? Something just for you?” he questioned. “Treat yourself, doll, it’s on me.”

I felt a tingle at the nickname. I knew I should pick something but I didn’t know what. Unless I'd… No, really no I couldn’t. Unless I…? I timidly went away from him and got the massive sextoy from earlier.

“Naughty little girl aren’t you? I might ask you to bring it someday.” he raised an eyebrow and grinned before setting all our shopping at the check-out. He paid cash without an eye bat and we exited the place.

“T-thank you.”

“You’re welcome baby, my pleasure.” He said not bothering to look at me as he was heading fast to the street. He opened the door to a black SUV stationed there and let me in before scouting next to me. The driver did not say a word and headed somewhere I had no idea of. I wondered what he knew about who I was.

“How are you?” Ashton tried as a start to a regular socially acceptable small talk.

“Good thank you, how are you?”

“A little tired, we’ve had a five interviews and a photo shoot this morning so we woke up really early. How is school?”

“Fine, I got a paper back earlier this week and it went pretty well.”

“That’s good, I’m happy for you doll.”

I felt like I was making conversation with a friend’s parent or something, at least until he put his hand on my thigh. I didn’t look up to catch his eyes, nor move, but I glanced in the rearview mirror, embarrassed by the presence of the driver. For the first time, I noticed how long and lean his fingers were : he might be a drummer but he definitely had the hands to be a pianist. The long fingers crept down my inner thigh making small Goosebumps erupt all over my skin while Ashton let out a longing sigh. We reached the hotel and I was shocked to find it swarmed by fans with signs and stuff.

“Too packed here, we’re coming through the parking.” The driver informed us and Ashton sighed again, more like exasperated this time. For a second I pictured what would happen to him in this mass of teenage girls. And what would happen to me. He’d be assaulted, then drop the bag, the stuff would spill onto the ground and then-

“We’re here.” He said opening my door for me to get out. Here being the underground parking from the palace. We took the elevator and were finally safe in Ashton’s room.

“So, erm you have two possibilities. Either you can stay the night here with me, either you can come back tomorrow morning?” he explained, scratching his nape again in a way I started to find seductive.

I was taken aback but thinking about it I had no class tomorrow until early afternoon. Staying the night definitely meant we were going to have sex and to be honest I didn’t mind.

“I’ll stay.”

“Okay great. I’ll get you some clothes for tomorrow.”

None of us knew what to say after and I stood awkwardly fidgeting with my hands.

“You can, erm, use the bathroom to put this.” He handed me ruffled panties and the same red lipstick he’d made me worn yesterday.

I excused myself swiftly and arranged my make up a little once in the marble bathroom. Carefully applying the lipstick he seemed to like so much, I dabbed my lips with my fingers to brush them on my cheeks after and have this rosy cute blush. I quit my own underwear to replace them with the ones Ashton had just bought and went back to the room, tossing my things in my purse. Ashton shot me a confused look.

“I thought I’d told you to put the panties.”

“I did?” I answered equally puzzled.

“I meant just the panties.” He clarified, sighing heavily.

“Oh. I am sorry, I-” I apologized already lifting my t-shirt.

He flashed me a dazzling smile and threw himself on the bed. He picked up the phone and called room service.

“Bottle of Cristal.” he says, curt yet polite. Looks like I am not making tea today.

Shortly after, a bell rings and I jump a little.

“It must be the room service, please get the door.” Ashton lazily asks without moving and inch. I look around for clothes, embarrassed.

“Did I say you could cover yourself?” he snaps.

“No, no but I-”

“Enough. Go get the door right now.”

I flush and make my way to the door as slowly as possible, hiding myself behind as I open. The young groom’s eyes widen and he flushes as bad as me, apologizing all he can but Ashton says it’s nothing. He raises from the bed and appreciatively eyes the silver tray with the champagne in its ice bucket. The lad excuse himself again ready to leave before Ashton stops him. He stands all suit and tie in the room, doing his best to look at the floor, while Ashton seems to be doing his best to take as long as possible finding his wallet. After endless seconds I finally see the familiar brown leather.

“Oh I’m out of cash, doll do you have some?” he asks, not the slightly disturbed.

I stare at him completely dumbfounded. He’s got to be kidding me.

“Please.”

I comply, and go on shaky legs to the chair where I set my purse to pull an old childish wallet. I realize I have no idea how much I am supposed to give him so I eye Ashton with despair. I thought he had forgotten I was much underdressed but from the smirk I swear he remembered quite well and was enjoying the situation. Embarrassed I decide on 10$ only because it was the first not I could find, I just wanted this stranger to go away.

“Don’t worry I’ll give you back your money.” Ashton adds matter-of-factly while settling himself on the bed again. I stand, a bit like the guy had a few seconds ago. Ashton looks at me then at the champagne and at me again. I walk to the tray and notice two glasses. I pour him one.

“Please have one too.” he flatly says. “And get the tray next to me.”

I do as he says and settle next to him on the bed in a rush of confidence, ticking my glass against his and flashing him a smile. He looks startled but not that displeased.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks out of the blue. Shit where did that came from? Is he going to ask me to be his girlfriend?

“No. No I don’t.” Why would he ask this? Surely I don’t have a boyfriend, if I did I probably wouldn’t be lying next to a guy who isn’t my boyfriend in panties. Unless… “Why do you ask, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Not at the moment” He chuckles drinking a bit. What a weird question. The more time we spend together the more his awkward attempt at small talk grows… well more awkward.

He plunges his fingertips in the ice bucket and aims his hand to my belly, letting drops of water. My hips bucked at the cool feeling.

“Stay still.” he orders. His pointer found the drop on my skin and started drawing lines. My body tingled.

He took an ice cube from the bucket and held it above my navel, waiting for the water to fall. “Shhh be a good girl, don’t move.”

The ice made my body burn.

He ran a cube up and down my slit, holding it carefully with his lean fingers. “Don’t move…” he cooed again, like a mantra. I sighed in pleasure and squirmed a little. “Move and I’ll stop.” he icily told me.

He kept his up and down ice race until the cube was melted, applying more or less pressure, numbing me. I had my eyes shut yet I heard the discreet rumble of ice signaling me he was taking another one. He brought it against my core again but this time separated my folds with his fingers. I froze : it was the first time he was actually touching my most intimate part. Yet it didn’t last long and once the cube was at my entrance I could just feel his pointer and thumb pressed between my wetness.

“You must stay very still.” he slowly told me. “You can moan all you want, scream, but I don’t want you to move. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I sighed in anticipation.

With just one finger he pushed the cube inside of me.

The pleasure from it echoed in my entire body, I moaned, sighed, screamed a little when it moved and I could feel it was starting to melt pretty fast against my contrasting burning heat.

“How does that feel?”

“Incredible…”

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Fuck yes please.”

“Lay on your stomach.”

I turned and squealed feeling the ice moving in my pussy. Who would have thought it’d feel that good? Ashton dropped a cube on my nape and I had to bite the pillow not to move or scream. I felt the ends of his hair tingling my skin as he drove the cube all the way down my spine with his lips I guess. I bucked my ass to him and he kneaded my cheeks, parting them a little.

“Has anyone been here yet?”

I blushed.

“Answer me!” he growls, frightening me.

“No” I barely whisper.

His cold fingers poke at my small hole, not entering though, much to my relief. That’s not something I want to do, at all. But right now I would very very much like him to fuck me. The ice in my pussy had melted completely leaving a mess on the bed and great need inside of me. A new ice cube was pressed between my ass cheeks, tensing me immediately.

“Just relax baby it’s all good.” Ashton muttered against my ear. I could feel his body leaning against mine, just a quick press. He rolled the icy dice against me, earning a few sighs from me but I was not moving anymore, I had gotten the message. Without a warning he pushed the significantly smaller cube in my asshole. I yelled then bit my lip to contain myself. I was unable to tell if it was awful or delicious. The stretching was very light, the cold sensation a soothing one, and his big hands massaging my ass cheeks made my focus change.

Seeing me so distressed and needy, Ashton went to get the toy and dipped it in the bucket before thrashing it into me. I was quick to come despite being numb from the ice, much to my surprise. Yet, as intense as this orgasm was, it lacked that sparkle that only a man can bring. The clenching of his jaw, the sweat of his body, his weight and his sounds. I wanted him, all of him.

“Thank you Y/N, good night.” Ashton says getting under the covers. I frown and don’t really understand what this is all about.

“But you didn’t-“

“Good night Y/N” he cut me.

Exhausted and worn out, I fell asleep quickly in the comfy bed deciding I was allowed to since he had not thrown me out yet. Yet before falling my brain was repeating Eve’s words : He seems to have a few fetishes if you know what I mean”… I have a better idea now but still blurry. And how did she know?

The next morning I woke up with this odd sensation in my neck. That’s what good pillows feel like. There was no sign of Ashton until I heard running water.

Carefully laid on the armchair was a student outfit. Not the raunchy one you can buy at the sex shop but one that seemed real. A very short navy skirt, a white little blouse and a fitted jacket adorned with golden buttons. Folded on the side, white panties with a matching bra. It looked like it belonged in a movie.

“Oh you found your clothes.” Ashton surprised me exiting the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. I couldn’t help but stare at him, the dry muscles of his stomach and the happy-trail in an upside-down T. I blushed a bit.

“Yeah… Thank you. But I, I mean you know I’m in university… we don’t have uniforms…” I said watching the damped locks of his hair clad to his neck.

“Oh I know baby…” he smiled a crooked smile that made my insides twist.

Nervous, I dressed in front of him while he massaged his scalp with a small towel, eyeing me appreciatively. I nearly made pigtails in the end but figured he might not be too impressed by my joke so I just went to grab my sneakers and faced him, waiting for him to say something.

“Don’t you look perfect…” he smirked. “I’ll pick you up after school, be a good girl.”

 

Author’s note : arghhh I love this. There will be a part 3 but don’t forget to come and talk to me in the ask box, it’s really important for me :)

One stone
two stones
three stones
four, five, six, seven
they are pouring out of me
        huge ones
        small ones
        some are marbled
        others glitter
stacking taller every day
and I cannot tell
if I am beginning to tip the scales
if my love for you weighs more
than yours for me
if it always has
as I assumed
And even if I could
see each pile of rock
as clearly as I see you standing before me
I’m not sure I would be brave enough to look
        at the precariousness of it all
        at which side dipped lower than the other
But this is not something I should care about is it?
—  A.O.A.M. || Scales

The failing use of my right hand isn’t actually the failing use of my right hand, it’s just another way to tell the time. And I’m ticking. So I’ve been picking myself up at bars with a bottle in each hand, but I never give myself any play. I just make plans with myself for the day after next. By the time the sun swings back around into position I forget the context of why I asked myself out in the first place. Did I think I was going to score?

I let a stranger pour me one more. She says,” my name is Sara”. Doesn’t take much more than that to start a relationship. My darling Sara cleans rooms for a living, giving her youth and beauty to dirt and dust. Understands more than most that family must be the foot you put forward first, you must weather the worst together. But, having never met her family, she places love above all else, then protests that I use the word love too freely in poems, and I should really just say what I mean. And I suppose what I mean most is that; I’m trying.

She’s been buying me time on a maxed out credit card, arms scarred from selling her own blood to pay down the debt. Tells me she doesn’t mind going broke so long as I can give her a little sweat. She says, “try”. So I do my best impression of a pen, and when every problem looks like a page I commit ink to paper. And the worth of the words that come out determines my wage. I’ve been making enough to pay her the compliment of not quitting, of not sitting when standing is required.

She only asks that I put the effort in, and in return she’s willing to pin a paper heart to her chest, then do her best impression of a target. She says that effort is the Siamese twin of success. So when everyone else looks like a wrong answer, she says she’ll settle for being my best guess. So we lie in bed like a mess that someone’s been meaning to clean for the large part of a long while. We lie there like a pile of dirty laundry, and how we’ll ever come clean is beyond me. So we don’t. She says, “it’s supposed to be dirty, and if by the end you haven’t hurt me then you didn’t try”.

So I do my best impression of a surgeon, going in, cutting purple hearts out of my own, use my veins like thread. Then have hurt sewn to our skin like medals, because when the bleeding stops, and that dust settles, all we have are our wounds to wear like decorations upon our chest. Sara does her best impression of a war, tells me not to count my pride among the casualties because maybe faith means never keeping score. She says there’s more to effort than just switching gears, and in terms of what one should give in this life sweat holds more value than tears.

You have to try, and even though the failing use of my right hand means I’ll never land a knockout punch in the first round, life is composed of sound and fury, and whatever noise is left in me will be twice as loud when I try. So I plug myself into the idea of going the distance and I amplify.

My darling, Sara has a throat like a vase that sings her words into bloom. She’s got a voice like perfume. It’s been sticking to my clothes, so everyone knows where I’ve been sleeping. She’s been keeping me so close you could use my body for evidence; pull her fingerprints as proof that she’s been on top so often she’s starting to look like my roof. But a real sexy roof, and she doesn’t leak, unless you count the crying. She does that sometimes, worries that she’s just a back up plan.

My darling, Sara, I’ve lived long enough to learn too many choices can destroy a man. I will make no exodus. I’ll be around long enough to watch uncertainty bid us farewell, then echo our names into the crater caused by the impact of when our lack of conviction fell. You’ve never had to sell me on the idea of absolute certainty in the trustworthiness of another.

The first and only time you met my mother, mom said, “I like the way she looks at you”. And I echoed back to her that I liked it too. Eyes like recycle bin blue. Sara looks at broken things as if she can make them new, and more than a few times I’ve caught her staring. Caught her wearing a smile reserved for those busy making plans. Sara believes that distance is a fundamental that can be side-stepped by a piece of string and two tin cans, and I remember when my tin can rang.

They said, “there’s no family to speak of so love is next in line, and there’s not a lot of time, but she’s asking for her boyfriend.”

In the cab to the hospital I feel my heart bend as if bracing for impact. So I do my best impression of a man and face fact. It’s supposed to hurt. A doctor does his best impression of the truth, and spares me attempts to skirt around the issue. They can’t stop the bleeding, and the failing use of Sara’s heart isn’t actually the failing use of Sara’s heart, it’s just another way to tell the time. My darling, Sara, I was holding your hand when you died, and even though the failing use of my right hand prevented me from feeling you leave, I tried.

—  My Darling Sara, Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long
2

Gif source:  Ryan

Imagine being married to Ryan, and the two of you have a cute moment in the break room, before Esposito ruins it.

——— Request for erinireland ———

You lean back into his embrace and away from the counter, your freshly-poured coffee steaming from the cup you’d poured it in before Ryan had gotten hold of you, “That’s nice.” The sigh that comes from you has a bit of a hum to it as you feel him rest his chin on your shoulder. After finding that body the way it had been mutilated earlier that morning, you both needed this hug.

“Pour me one, too, hon?” Kevin asks, giving you a gentle squeeze with his arms around your waist that makes you chuckle.

“Yeah, sure, I just made a new pot anyway,” he lets you have enough room in his arms without completely letting you go, so that you can reach for another cup in the break room’s cupboard.

Before you can fill the cup with coffee, Esposito walks into the break room, chiming, “Is that fresh coffee I smell? Woah, you two, fraternizing in the break room? You two should be more professional.” He clicks his tongue playfully with a smirk, making you roll your eyes as Kevin reluctantly lets you go.

As Espo reaches for the coffee pot you’d just sat down, Kevin swats away the chuckling detective’s hand, “You don’t get to drink my wife’s coffee after that.”

Looking at Kevin innocently, Espo huffs, “Come on, man.”