this man is like fine wine

I can’t help but think about Yuuri being constantly mesmerized but also FULL OF SALT because Viktor, like a fine wine or good cheese, just gets BETTER with age. He is the SILVEREST OF SILVER FOXES. Yuuri can’t handle it.

Like yes his forehead gets bigger, but that just makes him look distinguished somehow? And the lines around his eyes give him this graceful wisdom. The glasses he has to wear later in life make him look like one of those beautiful professor-type men in movies–just looking at them, you know they’ve got to be over the fifty hump, maybe even pretty far over, but you still really want to see them with their shirt off? 

Viktor plans a beach trip for their thirtieth wedding anniversary and Yuuri watches as his sixty-year-old husband shakes salt water out of his hair and rubs sunscreen into the freckles on his shoulders. What the fuck. Yuuri is sitting here in a giant T-shirt and shorts with an overlarge sunhat and sunglasses, and next to him Viktor is reenacting the ads for Gucci’s summer 2049 beachwear ad. The only thing missing is a lion cub and a yacht.

“Aren’t you going to swim?” Viktor asks, leaning back on his elbows, legs crossed at the ankles. His whole body is laid out as though to soak up as much sun as possible, and Yuuri is huddled under the umbrella, every bit of him that will fit in the shade folded into it.

“My hip is bothering me today,” Yuuri tells him, mostly as an excuse.

“The water might help with that,” Viktor tells him, and kneads a hand into the meat of Yuuri’s hip. “It’s nice and cool. Aren’t you having fun, Kitten?”

Yuuri bows his head towards him, smiles and butts their noses together. Viktor has a smear of unincorporated sunscreen on his nose that transfers onto Yuuri’s cheek. “Of course I am. I’m with you.”

Viktor makes a weak little sound against his shoulder. “The things you say. Even now.”

“They’re true,” Yuuri says, and takes his hand through Viktor’s hair.

“I know,” Viktor sighs. “But sometimes I still can’t believe that you’re spending your life with me. Thirty years, can you believe it?”

“No,” Yuuri chuckles honestly. “I can’t. But I’m glad it happened. And that it’s still happening.”

“Thirty years and you’re still just as beautiful as they day I married you,” Viktor says.

Yuuri looks at his husband, Number 27 on People Magazine’s list of Fifty Sexiest Men Over Fifty, and blushes harder than he has since he was in his twenties. 

“Says Russia’s Golden Silver Fox.”

“I hated that article,” Viktor says. His fingers are tracing patters on Yuuri’s thigh. “It made no sense. Silver and gold clash. Anyone with a brain knows that.”

“I don’t think that was the point, Vitya.”

Viktor grabs his hand. “Come swim with me!”

“No!” Yuuri laughs, halfheartedly trying to tug his hand back. “We’re on a beach surrounded by twenty-somethings and unlike you, I have the waistline of a fifty-six year old man.”

“Then come back to our hotel room and I’ll show you the things your fifty-six-year-old waistline can do to me,” Viktor murmurs, and nips gently at Yuuri’s thigh just below the hem of his shorts.

“Well…” Yuuri twirls a lock of Viktor’s hair in his finger. “We do have a few hours before dinner.”

Yuuri lets Viktor cling to him like an octopus on the walk back to their room. Yuuri may be thirty-two years older than he was in the winter of 2016, but he is still the man who took pride in stealing Viktor Nikiforov out from under Russia’s nose–and he is still the only man who Viktor Nikiforov, Certified Fine Wine, Good Cheese, Silver Fox, has eyes for. It’s enough to make anyone feel good about their love handles. 

(Viktor thinks that Yuuri’s love handles are to be celebrated. But that’s another post.)

popular text posts + ask memes

❛ i don’t know what i’m doing with my life, but i know i’m doing it wrong ❜
❛ i am so cute and bitter ❜
❛ my life is one part ‘wait’ and another part ‘what’ ❜
❛ my #1 talent is saying stupid things to people and immediately regretting it ❜
❛ i love sleeping to avoid problems ❜
❛ i hate myself a lot but i get offended when other people do ❜
❛ i’m hungrier than the neopet i neglected for nine years ❜
❛ hit me up if you wanna date a piece of shit ❜
❛ we need some new and more powerful swears ❜
❛ i get progressively uglier throughout the day ❜
❛ i’m so miserable, but i laugh at everything ❜
❛ i need something that is more than coffee, but less than cocaine ❜
❛ just because you’re trash doesn’t mean you can’t do great things. it’s called garbage can, not garbage cannot. ❜
❛ 90 out of 10 people agree that math is fucking lame ❜
❛ if you think i’m ugly now, you should have seen me in 2009 ❜
❛ 2010 me would literally be terrified of 2016 me and i love it ❜
❛ i have a rare skin condition called close the fucking blinds ❜
❛ hey babe, i made you this mixtape for valentines day. i don’t know many love songs, so it’s just uptown funk 18 times in a row. ❜
❛ there are people who know me in real life who think i’m straight and that’s really funny to me ❜
❛ i was cursed with expensive taste and a low budget ❜
❛ yo dude i trusted you wtf the fuck? what the fuck?? what the fuck what the ❜
❛ open flannel shirts and lingerie are the hottest thing and nobody can convince me otherwise ❜
❛ i’m the weird dad, wine mom, vodka aunt, and gay emo cousin all in one person ❜
❛ that awful moment when you wake up ❜
❛ damn haha i’m going to have to deal with that sooner or later ❜
❛ are we gonna fucking hold hands tonight or what bitch ❜
❛ people our age have children what the hell i am a children ❜
❛ i don’t like your clothes. take them off. ❜
❛ why am i only motivated to sort my life out at 4 am? ❜
❛ after i die, i’ll probably still complain ❜
❛ people are so petty and then here i am, me, an angel ❜
❛ if i don’t insult you daily, it means i don’t like you ❜
❛ do something with your life that would make a 1950s straight white man angry ❜
❛ i need to get laid… to rest. put me in a coffin. let my soul ascend. ❜
❛ i’m trying to be a better person, but some people are testing me ❜
❛ i’m overstressed and underfucked ❜
❛ i can’t wait to be a piece of shit with a bachelors degree ❜
❛ my emo phase never went away, it just aged like fine wine ❜
❛ my whole life consists of wondering whether or not to make the bitchy comment ❜
❛ i don’t have time for people who don’t believe in aliens ❜
❛ the lack of cuddling i am experiencing right now is upsetting ❜
❛ why do good concert tickets happen to bad people ❜
❛ i can’t play hard to get i’m already hard to want ❜
❛ i’m still pissed off about growing up ❜
❛ if you listen carefully, you can hear me whisper ‘shut the fuck up’ at least once every five minutes ❜
❛ when i die i want my heart donated to NASA so they can finally see what a black hole looks like up close ❜

❛ single and ready to take a 20 hour nap ❜
❛ write ‘nothing is set in stone’ on my grave as both a witty joke and a subtle warning that i will be back ❜
❛ how do people even put up with me like i can’t even put up with me ❜
❛ the opening riff to mr. brightside could literally raise me from the dead ❜
❛ stale cinnamon roll, been in this world too long, too cynical  ❜
❛ sorry, i’m poor. i can’t afford to pay attention ❜
❛ aziz ansari’s voice in the back of my head faintly telling me to treat myself is going to be my downfall ❜
❛ is it too late to wrap myself up like a baby and drop myself off on a billionaire’s doorstep? ❜
❛ my neutral expression makes me look like i’m always in a bad mood which is convenient because it’s usually true ❜
❛ i never run voluntarily so if you ever see me running you should start running too because something is coming ❜

anonymous asked:

i think phil is jogging and going to a gym because he realizes how much weight he has gained. i mean it is pretty noticeable in his chest and stomach. i mean i don't think it flatters him, dan is taller so he can gain more weight and it looks fine but phil, he is like losing any appeal - i mean i am sure dan notices...

NO BITCH PHIL LOOKS MIGHTY FUCKING FINE AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE HAS AGED LIKE FINE WINE LET ME TELL YOU! THIS WHITE MAN HAS AGED A LOT BETTER THAN EXPECTED! HE IS NOT BALD YET! HIS BODY IS DIVINE! HIS BRAIN IS A SAFE! HIS BODY A TEMPLE! DAN IS ONLY ONE OR TWO INCHES TALLER! THEY ARE BOTH BEAUTIFUL! SHUT UP! SHUUUTTT UPP! THEY DONT NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT THEY ARE ONLY WORKING OUT TO KEEP IN BETTER SHAPE BECAUSE TATINOF MADE THEM WORK THEIR ASSES OFF AND THEY WILL LOSE THEIR YOUTHFUL VIGOR IF THEY DO OTHERWISE! DONT EVEN TALK TO ME!

8

Happy 36th birthday Brandon (21 June, 1981) 

Happy birthday to this beautiful angel who makes our lifes better everyday with his music. I probably said everything about what this man means for me. It’s been 10 years of proud victim. I can say i saw you growing up as a frontman and i’m so proud of what you are, of what you achived. You’re my hero. Can’t believe you’re 36 now, for me you’re still 27. Time flies but you’re fine like wine. It feels great to know that I will never forget your birthday because you were born on the same day as the person I love most in this world: My mother.

Saturdays (pt 1)

Genre: Fluff/Smut (in pt 2)

Member: Jungkook

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 4484

Summary: After three months of loneliness and insecurities while on tour, Jungkook comes home to you.

Part 2

This is just pure fluff tbh. But Part 2 will much more explicit (and will be posted within the next two or three days at most). Enjoy!


You weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been sitting on the window seat with your knees pulled into your chest, the cool wall leaching all the warmth from your spine through the thick material of your hoodie. All day you’d been lounging in the comfort of your apartment, basking in the calming serenity of the pouring rain pattering against the wide window. The view of the Seoul skyline piercing the gray swirling clouds above was beautiful in the most hazy and sleepy way, almost as if the entirety of South Korea had just woken up from a Saturday-afternoon nap and hadn’t yet wiped the sleep from its eyes.

Saturdays were one of your favorite days, mainly because you didn’t have to worry about your usual responsibilities of college and work. You preferred to spend most of your Saturdays at home to recharge before having to finish up any assignments you’d been procrastinating over on Sunday, and you often found yourself devoting Saturdays to pampering yourself. Eating whatever you wanted, messily slathering on a face mask, taking a long steaming bath to relax your tense muscles, the works. At that point in the day, you’d already cooked yourself chocolate chip pancakes (You woke up around 11:30am, but who’s to say pancakes have to be reserved solely for breakfast time?) while your favorite moisturizing mask was caked on your skin. You stuffed the fluffy, sweet deliciousness in your face ravenously as you binge-watched YouTube videos, the only worry you had being that you may not have enough syrup.

Now you sat, four hours later, curled up by the window, still sucked into the void that is YouTube and enjoying the melancholy rainfall that was baptizing the streets of Seoul.

As much as you loved Saturdays, you couldn’t help but feel sad that you’d spent so many without your boyfriend around to participate in the self-care. The two of you had made it a tradition to spend Saturdays together and bond over cartoons and unhealthy snacks. Even though he basically lived with you when he wasn’t forced to stay at the dorms or travel for a tour, Jungkook was insistent on coming over and talking about each of your weeks through mouthfuls of pizza.

Keep reading

bailci  asked:

35 solangelo?

Nico has The Box that he doesn’t touch.

His father gave it to him on his 15th birthday (or 85th, depending on how one looked at it, but Nico agrees that time is a man-made construct and ignores it) and told him, quite bluntly, “This is all I have left of our time with Maria.”

Maria. Nico’s Mama.

So of course, Nico took The Box and shoved it under his bed with his feelings and the rest of the other junk Nico didn’t feel like compartmentalizing in his brain on a day-to-day basis. And there The Box stayed for a whole year; until Will decided that his boyfriend needed to be introduced to the concept of Spring Cleaning.

With a feather duster in one hand and multi-purpose cleaner in the other, Will invited himself into Cabin 13 and set to work. Nico had long ago learned not to get in his boyfriend’s way.

Bookshelves were dusted, counters wiped down, boxes emptied and moved around. And then Will got to Nico’s bedroom, and discovered The Box.

“You want to go through this one, hon?” Will called to his boyfriend, who was currently in the kitchenette, getting them cold drinks.

“Probably,” Nico called back, “don’t touch my stuff.”

Will disregarded him and touched his stuff anyways. He dusted off the top of the box and found the words “Niccólo di Angelo: 19XX- ” written in neat, Palmer-method cursive. The cardboard lid creaked when Will cracked The Box open.

“Ohmygods are THESE YOUR BABY PICTURES?!” Will was exclaiming before he could reel in his emotions. Nico appeared, quite literally out of the shadows, with two tall glasses of iced tea in his hands and a frown on his face.

“Oh,” he said, “you opened it.”

“Was I not supposed to?” Will asked, ready to apologize about the interference of personal space. Nico only shrugged, “It’s fine I guess, I just never have. It’s all the stuff my dad had left from his time with my mom.”

Will picked up the first photo on the top of the stack of papers in The Box. It was Nico and Bianca, maybe about two and four respectively, seated on the front stoop of a Venetian town house with only semi-serious expressions on their faces. It took Will a minute to realize that the man sitting between them was actually the Lord of the Underworld.

“It’s weird, seeing your dad…”

“So normal looking?” Nico finishes for him, “yeah, I know. It freaks me out when he and Persephone sometimes go to Starbucks in Santa Monica together.”

Will giggled, “You were a cute kid, though.”

“Are you saying I’ve only gotten less cute?” Nico asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course not,” Will answered, “You’re like a fine wine, better with age.”

“You hate wine.”

“It’s rotten grape juice,” Will confirmed, “do you want to go through this box or shall I put it back where it came from?”

Nico sighed, “Might as well, I should probably know the rest of its contents.”

“Could be some good blackmail material in here.” Will suggested.

“I hate you.” Nico groused, not really upset but having a reputation to uphold. (He however completely ruined this reputation by pecking Will’s check before crawling between his legs to recline comfortably against his boyfriend’s chest.)

“Comfortable?” Will asked, amused.

“Sure.” Nico said. Together, cleaning forgotten, they dive into the contents of the box.

(And Will was right, there were too many cute baby pictures in there for Nico to ever be considered scary again.)

10

Happy Birthday to the most beautiful man my eyes have ever seen, the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard, the most energetic horsecock live, my love and the baddest mother fucking front man of my favorite band on earth! 36 never looked so good! 7/31/1981

M. Shadows 🖤

anonymous asked:

PT, you're like fine wines, cheese, and peeps cause you get better with age *winkwinkwinkwink*

* iiiiiii don’t knowwwwwww… I was something to be reckoned with, back in the day.

* ………………..

* OH.

* That was a flirt.

* That silver-tongued devil of seduction I once was is a looong-since dead man, it seems.

2

Vita to Virgina:

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it.[…] Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any more by giving myself away like this — But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defenses. And I don’t really resent it.

Virginia to Vita:

Look here Vita — throw over your man, and we’ll go to Hampton Court and dine on the river together and walk in the garden in the moonlight and come home late and have a bottle of wine and get tipsy, and I’ll tell you all the things I have in my head, millions, myriads — They won’t stir by day, only by dark on the river. Think of that. Throw over your man, I say, and come.

Thirsting

Originally posted by existingcharactersdiehorribly

It was the beer that did it. He’d ordered it mostly to see what Hannibal would do, having only ever seen the man consume eye-wateringly expensive wine or, on occasion, spirits (and then only the most pretentiously rarefied kind). So there was no way he could have been prepared for the fine line of foam that lingered on Hannibal’s upper lip as he lowered his glass, apparently satisfied despite Will’s choice of drink costing less than a car. Certainly there was nothing he could have done to brace himself for the way, after a long moment of staring at Hannibal’s mouth - had it always curved like that? Had it always looked so red and plump and delicious, like vine fruit on the edge of bursting into overripeness? - Hannibal sucked away the foam, his bottom lip engulfing the upper with a soft, wet smack. It was lewd, and inelegant, and entirely filthy, and when his lip emerged again it glistened, pouting as if begging for attention. 

“Do it again." 

The words spilled from his mouth, unbidden and unplanned, in a husky tone that Will almost didn’t recognise as his own voice. They caused Hannibal to still for the barest fraction of a second, before he composed himself and raised an elegant eyebrow. 

"Do what, Will?" 

He accompanied the words and the quirked eyebrow with the faintest curl of a smirk, and Will was crowding him against the bar before he knew what he was doing. Uncaring of any looks he might be drawing from the other patrons, he pressed himself the length of Hannibal’s warm, strong body, and reached behind him to retrieve his abandoned glass. 

"You’re thirsty. Drink." 

Hannibal’s pupils blew wide as Will spoke, all command, no request. He raised his hand and slid it against Will’s, warm and soft in contrast to the slippery cool of the glass he took from Will’s grasp. 

"As you wish." 

Will watched, his own mouth turning dry, as Hannibal tipped the glass up, taking a long, slow pull of his drink, his eyes never leaving Will’s. If there were still other people in the room, Will wasn’t aware of them. The sound of his heartbeat and the shape of Hannibal’s lips as they opened for the glass made up the entirety of his world. 

Finally, when Will thought he might simply drain the whole glass just to spite him, Hannibal swallowed and lowered his drink. Foam once again lined his upper lip and Will descended on it, sucking it sweetly into his own mouth before moving to bite gently at Hannibal’s bottom lip, pleased when he let out a soft, almost inaudible moan. Will took advantage of his parted lips and pressed his tongue inside, desperate to be closer in any way he could. He felt Hannibal go lax and pliable against him, and dragged his fingers through silvering hair to clutch at the back of his head, keeping him in place while they kissed on and on. 

Finally, and against either man’s desires, they broke apart for air. Will, panting a little and grinning helplessly, gazed at Hannibal’s expression. He looked stunned and a little wary, watching Will with half-lidded eyes. Will’s smile softened and he lifted a hand to touch softly along the line of Hannibal’s lip. 

"You’d let me do anything I want, wouldn’t you? Everything I ask." 

"Yes. That excites you." 

"You excite me." 

Will pushed his thumb inside Hannibal’s mouth, and saw the fractional widening of Hannibal’s eyes. 

"You could bite. But you won’t, unless I ask you to. It would take a better man than me not to find that… interesting." 

Will smiled fondly as Hannibal let his teeth rest against his thumb with just the barest hint of pressure. They grazed teasingly against his skin as he pulled out and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Hannibal’s response. 

"All these years, Will, and it took only a sip of mediocre beer to finally catch your interest." 

"You always had it, and you know it. You just didn’t know what to do with it." 

"Perhaps I required a firm hand to direct me." 

"I think that’s something we should explore, doctor." 

They shared a smirk, indulgent and full of promise, before Hannibal lifted the glass he was still clutching for a third time and drained it dry as Will watched his Adam’s apple bob and considered sucking a bruise into it. When he was done, he set the glass on the bar and looked back at Will, head tilted in insouciant challenge, lip deliberately left unclean. 

"Your round, I believe.”