your infinite love

  • Me: there is something ethereal and breathtaking about men in turtlenecks that make me go aww every time I see them
  • Cousin: you like men in general so stop acting all deep and poetic

Elizabeth of York aesthetic for @margarettudor

   Endearingly called “the Gracious Queen” by her subjects, one clear demonstration of the English people’s love for her can be recalled: while progressing over a carpet of woolen cloth that watching crowds were permitted afterward to take as a souvenir, a riot ensued and some died in the ordeal, all to obtain a piece of the cloth the Queen had tread on.

   After her premature death, the Tower – where she had died – ceased almost entirely to be used as a royal residence. Her family and subjects genuinely grieved her loss.


ok so i woke up thinking…
the love that is within me can never ever run out, resources can never get low. my love is in abundance and it is boundless. even when i am tired and i think i just can’t possibly…… actually i most definitely can still….. love for my neighbour, the earth, leaves, you, the woman at the bus stop, my family, the boy that just walked past me, it’s endless. the love i have comes with a certificate saying it will never ever bleed dry so i can act wild and run fast with it 🙌🏾. you love towards me and i love towards you, you hate towards me and i love towards you, i really do. you hate towards me AND I LOVE TOWARDS YOU. i love for the day you wake up and see that your love is infinite too! i wake up real, healthy and happy and i have enough love inside for everything in my day. im not saying I don’t feel dark sometimes or worn out, like anyone i can be misguided. but just to know i have a gift of love inside me that is limitless no matter how much i give away is amazing. what a relief to find out. it’s taken 28 years for this notion to settle, i just want the universe to know. so just to be clear, my love won’t ever run out ok ok 💁🏽

-FKA Twigs posted this statement on her Instagram account
Galaxies - Blind!Michael Clifford Smut

submitted by unlostmgc, thank you!!

He hadn’t been born this way; when I met Michael, he had the prettiest eyes - galaxies of peridot green with stars the colour of sapphires and topaz, with a ring of emerald so dark it was almost black. He had the nebula beneath his eyelids, with a depth so fathomless that you almost felt like you could fall into them. Michael was nine when he got the mist, glazing over his pupils like space dust, until he was thirteen, when he got the clouds in his eyes.

Despite everything, Michael was still humble. His laugh was infectious, so raw that when he threw his head back, you were bitten by the bug, and there was absolutely nothing that could stop you from laughing. And his smile still lit his face, plump, cherry lips stretching over bucked teeth that would catch his lip when he was trying to hide, and his nose would wrinkle and his eyelids would fall closed to let his eyelashes brush the tops of his cheeks. Despite everything, Michael was still the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth.

Both inside and out; Michael’s heart would swell with love, and fuck, when he loved, he loved hard. He loved with kisses so deep and warm that they would stay branded on your tongue forever, and he loved with words so kind and sweet that they would taint the walls of your ears infinitely. Michael loved like nobody else could, naive touches to cheeks and chins, and painting his own picture of you in his head, Michael loved.

Michael hadn’t had amazing luck with relationships, the ones that were over before they could start. He didn’t have the chance to feel the same love he gave, and Michael was left with a heart that was ready to burst. It was sad with Michael; he deserved the Earth, but barely had the dust.

“I wonder if he had epilepsy.” He mused aloud, his fingers running over the bumps of his book as he read about his favourite artist - Leonardo da Vinci.

“Why do you wonder that?” I asked softly, turning the page of my own book as I scanned over the words.

“It says here,” He started, and I was completely mesmerised by him as his lips curled around the words he spoke. “He drew with his left hand, but wrote with his right. When he did write with his left hand, it was mirrored. Back then they would have treated epilepsy by severing the corpus callosum, which would disconnect the two cerebral hemispheres. The left hemisphere sends information to the right side of the body, and the right hemisphere sends information to the left-”

I simply looked at him, watching him as his fingers glided across the page, with his tongue flicking against his bottom lip when he took a breath, before he began talking again. I loved to hear him talk, all the way from the bottom of his diaphragm with a rasp that gravelled his tone, and a depth that seemed to rise from the cavern of his chest. He spoke full and loud, with heart, and a confidence that showed that he was truly at peace with himself.

When Michael had started to go blind, especially as he began to go through puberty, he became extremely self-conscious. It was understandable, there wasn’t a way for him to see how he looked, and it had always made him insecure. And then there was his issues with his eyes - there had been tens upon tens of people that daren’t look at the spaces between his eyelashes, because they thought that the clouds were far from beautiful and actually kind of terrifying. He had confessed that he had found it impossible to be intimate with anyone, because as he became comfortable with taking his glasses off, they became uncomfortable with looking at his eyes. Nastily, he’d been told to his face that they were a turn-off.

“I’ll bet you twenty quid that he was epileptic.”

“Mikey, I don’t have twenty quid.” I laughed softly, setting my book down in my lap and haphazardly dog-earing the page. “But I’ll Google it, just for you.”

“Knew there was a reason you were my best friend.” He teased, leaning forward slightly to punch me softly in the arm. I had grown used to that, too. Michael always seemed to know where I was, and I didn’t know if it was because he could hear me when I moved, or because he had memorised the atmosphere of his surroundings. He was notorious for both, which I always found to be quite the quirk. “What’s it say?”

“Hold on a second, damn.” I scoffed, not even halfway through my lock screen password as he spoke. I scrolled through Google for a second, looking over at Michael as he continued to roll the balls of his fingertips over the bumps of Braille in his book. “Yeah, he was epileptic.”

“I’m so smart.” He grinned, his teeth catching his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth, before abruptly slamming his hardback shut and pushing it away from him in annoyance. I jumped slightly at the sound of it hitting the carpet, swiftly casting a glance up to him as he turned towards me with his legs pulled up underneath him. “Can I ask you a question? And you have to answer it honestly.”

“Sure.” I shrugged to myself, closing my own book and setting it atop his as I turned towards him on the plush carpet.

“Promise?” He threaded his fingers together, his lips pursed as he settled his fists in his lap. His breathing shallowed when I responded with the affirmative, and he shuffled slightly as his usually cream-coloured cheeks began to turn a pretty pastel pink colour. With his eyelashes fluttering, he dipped his tongue out to trace his lower lip before once again opening his mouth to speak. “What does sex feel like?”

I was taken aback; I had known Michael since we were in nappies and not once had we ever strayed into this territory. Sure, he’d spoken about how the furtherest he had gotten without his partners backing out, was handjobs beneath the back table at the library, but we had never talked about any of our experiences in all seriousness.

“Oh,” I choked out, lifting my hands to cool my cheeks as my face flushed warm, and my eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment even though I knew he couldn’t even see the colour of my cheeks. “I think it would be different for us, Michael. We don’t have the same, like… organs?”

“I don’t mean like, that, I mean, when you-” He huffed, uncrossing his legs just to cross them again.

“Orgasm?” I finished, watching him carefully as he shifted, turning his head to listen closely. I would have found it adorable, if it weren’t for the burn of my cheeks or the memories playing over and over in my head. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?” I questioned quietly, knowing that he could hear every shake in my breath.

“Y/N, I have hands.” He tutted, wiping the palms of the said pair on the denim that covered his thighs. A comet of tingles shot to my stomach as I pictured exactly what Michael was implying, and I began to feel as if my lungs suddenly couldn’t get enough air into them. “What does sex feel like for you?”

“Uh,” I breathed out, shifting on the carpet until my legs were crossed like his, and we practically mirrored one another as my brain whirred back to the three of four times I’d had sex with my ex. “I just feel full…” I started, honestly unable to believe that I was talking about this to my best friend. “Um, it doesn’t really feel like anything until something happens with the G-spot, and that kind of feels like an electric shock. But a nice electric shock. And, um, I have a really sensitive clit, and when someone, or I touch that, it’s kind of-Michael, I can’t describe it.”

He whined lowly, his cheeks a vibrant pink and his lips wet from his tongue, and a rush of tingles bloomed between my thighs as the sound met my ears. Leaning back on his palms, his head rolled back as he let out an aggravated groan that rumbled through his chest and shook his Adam’s apple.

With the topic of sex whirling through the synapses of my brain, all I could think about was Michael. I was thinking about his back curving off the bed and his tongue swiping against my throat. I was thinking about his arms wrapped tightly around my waist and his cock buried snugly between my thighs. I was thinking about the low whines that would roll from his tongue if I rode him and the way my fingers would tangle in his hair.

His head rolled forward abruptly, his lips parting as my thighs clenched together, and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. I knew exactly what he was doing, because even though Michael’s eyes didn’t work, all of his other senses were extremely sensitive. He could smell and hear everything, and in this case, it was me. He could smell exactly how turned on I was, pheromones drifting from my skin to his nose like pollen in the wind, and he could hear just how much he was affecting me, my breath choking in my throat like rusted gears.

“Y/N,” He breathed out, and immediately I looked away from him. I could only imagine what my name would sound like moaned breathlessly into my ear. “I trust you, you know?” Leaning forward, he reached towards me and gently wrapped his fingers around my ankle. “I trust you with my life. I trust you with my eyes. I trust you with my cock. Please, please.”

“Michael, I’m really not sure this is a good idea. We’ve been friends since we were kids-”

“And you think this will ruin it?” He finished, coaxing me forward with his fingertips as they trailed up my calf to rest on my knee.

“I just want you to wonder if you really want this, first.” I exhaled, gasping in another breath as his fingers tangled with mine and he gently pulled me until my fingertips were dipping beneath his boxers, and the two of us let out synchronised whimpers as his hand wrapped mine around his thickening length.

“You want me to wonder? Your fingers are wrapped around the proof.” He breathed heavy, releasing my hand from his grip, but his lungs stuttered as I stroked him once, before I withdrew completely. “Fuck.”

“Okay, okay, fuck, Michael!” I scrambled off the floor, pushing my hair out of my face as I paced to the door and back again. He put his palms to the floor, pushing himself backwards until his back was pressed flat against the side of his bed. When he reached forward, I inched into his grip, letting out a squeak as he pulled me down to my knees. “What do you want me to do?”

He didn’t answer, shaking his head from side to side as his fattened length started to strain against his jeans. I was about to speak once again, but was silenced as his hands met my hips, the fingertips slipping underneath the material of my blouse as he slowly began to roam the inch or two of my skin. He was feeling, memorising the things he couldn’t see, and imagining them in his head. Heavy breaths fell between our chests, and I leaned back slightly as I crossed my arms over my torso, careful not to nudge him as I lifted my top over my head. His hands were everywhere, then, his thumbs running over the flesh of my stomach and tracing the rim of my bellybutton, and his fingertips following the curves of my sides.

“How do I feel?” I wondered aloud, quietly reaching around to unhook the clasps of my bra as his palms danced over the juts of my ribs.

“Supple.” He answered, his tongue flicked out over his teeth as his thumbs stroked across the curves of my breasts, trekking over the flesh and skimming over the peaks of my nipples until his palms encased my chest. “You feel like silk.”

My fingers weaved through his hair as his head dipped forward, his nose following the route his thumbs had taken until his mouth fastened over my nipple. Tingles began to buzz beneath his lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the little pink nub, suckling tenderly on the skin before his tongue flicked over. All tongue and lips, it sent jolts through my body.

“Oh,” I keened quietly, pulling softly on his hair as my pussy began to pulse and my hips rutted against his. My eyes fell closed and I leaned back to give him more space, his tongue rolling over my nipples in circles that had my head spinning.

His hands dropped down to the button of my jeans, and I fought the urge to grind against him as he slipped the denim down my thighs, fingertips caressing every inch of skin but the place I wanted him to touch the most. When my jeans had dropped from my ankles, he started to explore, tracing the outline of my underwear before slowly prying them down to follow my jeans. The room was getting warmer, and his forehead was resting softly against my sternum as he gripped at the flesh of my thighs. When his hands dipped around to my ass, I rolled my hips back into them as he kneaded the rounds.

“You smell like the epitome of sin.” He whispered out, and I almost didn’t catch it over my own laboured breathing. “I can’t imagine what you taste like.”

One of his hands slipped around, following the curve of my thigh until the pad of his fingertip met my clit. I fought the urge to whimper, getting lost in his hands as his finger slid through my lips, coating in the essence of my arousal before he was toying at my pussy. My clit was throbbing, desperate for his attention again, and it was met with the heel of his palm as his finger dipped into me.

“Michael,” I leaned up, my nipple catching on his lips again as I sultrily spread my thighs for his hand. “I want you to taste me. Please.”

He mewled at the words, pawing at my thighs and gently lifting me from my knees. I gripped at his shoulders, keeping him close as he laid me atop the covers of his bed, plump pillows tucked beneath my spine. His breath fanned out across my stomach as his hands stroked the curves of my hips, wrapping around my thighs and tenderly pushing them apart.

Tongue and lips, I let out a huff of air as my jaw fell slack and his tongue swept flat from the hole his finger had dipped into, to the button of my clit. It throbbed beneath his tastebuds, shock after shock of electricity shooting from my nerve endings as he flicked over the nub like a kitten at its milk. My eyes fluttered shut, and I lazily tossed my legs over his broad shoulders as he suckled and tickled, before he retreated back to my opening. I couldn’t hold in the purrs as his tongue circled the hole, before pushing in gently, over and over again until I’m sure his chin was dripping.

Michael had a talent, his lips engulfing mine as my back arched and twisted, and he sucked softly at my clit until I couldn’t take his tongue anymore. Two of his fingers sank knuckle-deep into my pussy, twisting and rolling and scissoring until I was stretched to accommodate another finger.

“There, fucking hell.” My head rolled back, my teeth sinking painfully into my lip as he nudged his fingertip against the spot that sent electric shocks to every corner of my body. “Michael, Michael,” I moaned, tugging roughly at his hair as he stroked long, circular sweeps into my clit. “Michael, I don’t want to come yet. Please.”

He didn’t respond, instead pushing the backs of my thighs up until I was folded in half, and Michael gave a real meaning to the term ‘eating out.’ Jolts shot like lightning bolts across my thighs as sloppy, laving swipes turned to crude, obscene slurps that seemed to fill my ears. He was devouring me, his fingers pistoning back and forth and not once did he miss my sweet spot. Wet, carnal noises filled the air, his palm slapping softly against my lips as his mouth fastened over my clit. The hard sucks and the wiggle of his tongue was driving me insane, my head falling back and my nails scraping over his shoulders as I held him as close as possible.

“You taste like fuckin’ pineapples.” Detaching himself, he rested his forehead on my pubic bone, breath fanning across the spit-slicked nub that was swollen and throbbing as my orgasm began to ascend to its peak.

His fingers sped up, nudging against my spot until I was just one or two caresses from exploding, before he abruptly slipped them away from me.

“No, no, no, no, fuck, no!” I groaned, pushing his head down to try and get his mouth back on me. “I was gonna come, I was gonna come.” I whined, frustration building in my bones as I moved my fingers down to roll against my clit.

“You said you didn’t want to!” He growled, catching my hands before I could abuse myself any more, moving up to pin them by my head. “And I want the first time you come tonight to be with me, okay?”

His lips brushed against my cheek as he spoke, my breath catching in my lungs as I lifted my head from the pillows to catch his lips. It wasn’t the first time Michael and I had kissed; there was that time when we were seven and we played pretend wedding, and that other time when he was getting teased and I had sucked his lips to make his classmates envious. But this was different, this was a kiss filled with lust, his teeth nipping at my lip until I parted just for him. We breathed one another, our fingers slotting together and our tongues sliding against each other.

He shivered when I dipped my fingers beneath his shirt, my fingertips tracing the bumps of his spine as I dragged the fabric up to his neck. I watched him in awe as he pulled away, leaning back on his knees as he crossed his arms, tugging the old Metallica shirt over his head and tossing it haphazardly to the floor. Nervous breaths left his kiss-bruised lips as I popped the button on his jeans, dragging his boxers down with them as I pushed them slowly down his thighs until he could kick them off. He simpered when I pushed him down onto his back, my palms flat against the milky skin of his broad chest.

Naked Michael was my new favourite piece of art, with a chest of creamy white that was perfect for love bites, and little pink nipples that would love the attention of my tongue. Ridges of ribs, a bump on the fourth one down from the time he fell off a swing and snapped it clean in half. His midriff was fleshy, soft to the touch, and peppered with dark down that trailed south to his pubic hair. He had juts for hipbones, his left one branded with a tiny triangle that matched the one behind my ear, and muscular thighs that I couldn’t wait to kiss. And then his cock, thick and the colour of peaches, rested on his stomach. It was dribbling desperately onto his skin, beads of pre-come trailing across his stomach where it jumped at my touch, and it was flushed cherry red at the tip.

“You have a pretty cock.” I praised, and his lips parted as I did. A shocked gasp whistled through his teeth as I trailed my fingertip from the ridge beneath the head, all the way down to the curls of hair at the base. “Do you mind if I get a taste, now?”

He shook his head, settling back against the pillows as I pressed a kiss to his chin. I wanted this to be all about Michael, now, and I wanted him to lose his virginity being treated like a prince. Soft breaths left his lips, his muscles relaxing as I trailed kisses across his jaw, searching for that sweet little spot that would send him dizzy. He was silent until I found it, a short mewl meeting my ears as I sucked a love bite into the skin beneath his jaw, just above the column of his throat. His hands fell to my hips, thumbs running gently over the skin as I littered his neck with pretty little marks.

He moaned when my tongue flicked over his nipple, rolling the pink nub with my lips and coaxing the most beautiful sounds from his throat. Responsive, he was, wailing quietly as I kissed across his chest and left trails of love bites on his flesh. I nipped at his skin until he was completely relaxed, his eyes shut and his breath moving almost silently through his nose. Gentle swipes of his fingers across my sides were the only thing to tell me that he was still awake, revelling in the touch of my lips as they pressed red hickeys into the softness of his stomach.

His cock twitched as I lapped up the smears of pre-come from below his bellybutton, my ears straining to listen as he let out a deep sigh. Hips barely rolling off the bed, I nibbled on the bones until that tiny tattoo was circled with fresh, pink bruises, and left tepid kisses on his thighs. When I finally pressed a kiss to his cock, he squeezed his lips together in a close-mouthed moan that resonated the blood in my veins.

“I’m gonna treat you well, okay, Mikey?” I leaned up, awestruck by the sight of him as he nodded slowly, his eyelashes fluttering as he tilted his head back. With his cheeks tainted pink and his lips plump, Michael was my favourite thing to look at. “And Mike?”

“Yeah?” He moved his hand, resting it on his belly as he tilted his head to listen.

“You are the most beautiful thing,” I started, closing the distance between us as I pressed a hot kiss to his shaft. “You are so pretty,” I enticed a tiny moan from him as I meekly wrapped my fingers around him. “So, so gorgeous.” Slipping my mouth gently over the head, I relished the whimpers and squeaks that tumbled from his parted lips.

Michael was still relaxed, one hand resting on his sternum as the other teased at the creases in the sheets. He didn’t move a muscle, not one, as I lapped kisses into his ridge, and left not one inch of his cock unkissed as I moved down. Michael was the complete and utter definition of a good boy, holding still as I suckled and teased at his veins. He barely broke, only lifting his hips barely an inch off the bed before I pressed my palm against his tattoo and took him right into my mouth.

A deep, heavy moan reverberated through his chest as I laved my tongue against his underside, my lips stretching over his girth and my cheeks hollowing. His fingers tightened in the sheets, his head rolling back as he nestled deep in my throat. I barely registered my actions, rolling my tongue over his veins as I retreated my head, only to sink him back into my throat like an anchor.

“Fuck,” He let out quietly, so quiet I almost couldn’t hear him, followed by a sigh that I could only think was of content. “This feels…” He trailed off, moving his leg as he began to fidget, squirming as I flicked my tongue over all of his most sensitive places. I could taste him on my tongue already, leaking like a broken faucet with my tongue sweeping over his slit. When my fingers curled around the root, his tongue peeked out from behind his lips to rest on his upper, and he let out a gravelly moan that shook my core when I began to stroke him. “This…”

My fingers were paired with my mouth, coaxing all of my new favourite sounds from his throat as he was buried in mine. His pretty cock fit perfectly in my mouth, the tip brushing against the column of muscles that contracted around his length each and every time. And when I looked up at him again, he was a mess. His soft features were slack, his neck arched back as he rolled his head, and his pillows nested around him to muffle his moans. But it wasn’t that, it was the redness of his cheeks that had flushed to cherry, roaming down his jugular, and the way his nose was wrinkled like it was when he laughed.

“I love your mouth, this feels…” He trailed off again, his spine lifting off the bed as I sucked particularly hard on his head. Droplets of come were oozing from the tip, bittersweet on my tongue, and his fingers finally weaved their way into my hair to guide me the way he liked. “…so, so good.”

My hands moved to either of his hips to steady myself as he pushed me down, right to the base, and stuttered out a broken moan as I choked quietly on him, guiding me up just to sink me right down again. The way his body responded was worth the tears that sprung to my eyes, and I cherished the sound of my name as it left his lips in breathless whimpers.

“I think I’m gonna…” With another unfinished sentence, Michael pressed under my jaw until I lifted away from him, giving him one last, tongue-filled suckle before I moved back up the bed. “Shit,” He chuckled softly, hands dropping back to my hips as he sat himself up, his back flat against the headboard. “Can we take a breather for a minute, I still feel like I’m gonna come and I want this to be good for both of us.” He looked down, his eyelashes fluttering as he avoided my gaze. I knew what he was doing, and I wasn’t fond of him hiding himself away from me.

“Hey, look at me,” I rested my fingers on the hinge of his jaw, lifting his chin and waiting for him to gain the confidence to open his pretty eyes again. They weren’t terrifying at all, shades of broken green stars spilling into striking yellow comets and shimmering blue constellations, with pupils that were scattered with clouds from the sky. “You have galaxies in your eyes. Please, don’t hide them from me.”

I didn’t know exactly what Michael could see - he had always described it as a fog and shadows that were barely shadows - but there was nothing I wanted Michael to see more than his own eyes. His own eyes, and da Vinci’s art.

“I won’t.” He promised, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I, uh, I think I’m okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” I breathed, but I really hoped he wanted to do this as much as I did. He nodded, dipping his tongue out to wet his lips as I lifted myself a little, looping an arm over his shoulder and around his neck and pressing my mouth closed tight when I began to sink him in.

He choked slightly, his nose brushing against mine as his breath poured out of his lungs only to be sucked straight back in. His jaw dropped slack, hands running over my thighs to guide me down until I was fully seated atop him. When I was, I leaned into him with my bare chest flush against his, holding the back of his head as I kissed him with everything I had. I had never felt so full, burning as I stretched around him, and he was so deep inside me that it would be hard to ever find a comparison. I loved Michael with all my heart; he was my best friend, and I couldn’t have been happier to have him trust me like this.

Our kisses were all teeth and tongue, trying our hardest to get closer and closer but there wasn’t even room to slip a piece of paper between us. My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling the way I did when I was lulling him to sleep. Soft, heavy groans rumbled his chest, and by now his hands were pawing at my ass and pushing me to move.

“Go slow, go slow.” He mumbled, resting his temple against my cheek as I slowly lifted up and inch or so. “Shit.” He keened, his lips brushing against my ear and his voice branding itself on my brain. “You’re so, so warm.”

When I rolled my hips down again, his cock hit that perfect spot that sent rushes of tingles to my toes. I then came to the conclusion that I loved Michael’s cock, with its perfect curve and its warmth. He fit me so well, and he was so, so deep inside me that I wanted him buried there forever. All I could think about was how he felt when I ground down, how he was pressed so tight against me that I could feel his balls against my thighs.

“Fuck,” I whined, lifting up and sinking own, lifting up and sinking down. There were jolts of pure pleasure, and I had never felt this good with anybody else. He wasn’t even touching my clit, and I was already close to bursting. “Such a nice cock…” I trailed off, huffing out when his nose brushed down the column of my jugular, his lips leaving wet, stinging bites behind.

“Does it always feel this good?” He groaned, fingertips pressing so hard into my thighs that I was sure there would be bruises in the morning.

“No,” I tilted my head, leaning back on my hands as I began to really roll my hips, finding the perfect angle. I let out a wild moan that I swore I’d never, ever made before, as his cock speared right into my g-spot. “Mikey, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fuck me, please, I want-” He whimpered, clawing at my ass and gently lifting me, pushing me back down, and then up again.

I followed his lead, holding onto his shoulders as I rode him. I would move up until just his tip was nestled between my walls, and drop quickly until he was a moaning mess. Never had I ridden before, but this, this was absolute euphoria. I could feel his rubbing against my walls and pistoning so deep that I’m sure he was touching my cervix, and I never, ever wanted this to end. Wet, crude noises filled the room like the smell of sex, and it wasn’t long before Michael was muttering that he was close.

“Come with me, please. Come with me.” He moaned, his mouth open against my throat and his hands moving up to my back to hold my chest against his and fuck, just the feel of his breath on my collarbone was enough to make me want to come.

“M’ clit,” I got out, and immediately his finger was delving between my folds, following the rhythm of my hips as I once again slowed down to a gentle roll that I knew would drive us both insane.

“I’m gonna come, please, please, fuck, yes.” He growled, and jolts shot through me as he started to rub sloppy, slow circles into my clit. “So tight, so warm, I love how you feel.”

I could feel it building now, as his cock nudged against my sweet spot and rubbed against my walls. It was like a thousand ropes were tied around my pelvis, tugging and pulling and tightening until they were close to snapping. Delicious, deep rubs to my clit sent me over the end, my muscles clamping down on him as he sucked in a breath. I was milking him, bliss falling over the both of us as we came, me in a cacophony of breathless moans, and Michael in short, hot spurts that filled me to the brim.

His voice cracked, and his muscles clenched as he threw his head back. He looked so fucking beautiful, his jaw popped open and his shoulders spasming, that wrinkle that I adored so much appeared on his nose and his eyes squeezed shut. His grasp on my hips was almost like a vice, holding me in place as his cock spilled warmth into me and as my muscles continued to milk him until he was empty.

“God, can we go again?” He moaned, pushing my hips so they ground down on him, but he immediately stopped as my walls contracted at the movement.

“Fuck, again?” I moaned, feeling him begin to go soft even though he was still buried to the hilt.

“I’ve never had an orgasm like that, I just, I-” He whined as I moved back, the action causing him to slip out of me. I fought the urge to moan, both of our juices sliding down my thighs and onto his sheets. I felt so empty, and I felt some insane longing to have him back inside me. Immediately. “Fuck, I’m so glad you were my first.”

“I’m glad I was too,” I smiled softly at him, worn out and slumped against the headboard as he purred like a little kitten. “Netflix and pizza? And then maybe later you can fill me right up again.”

“I like the sound of that.” He grinned, reaching over to his bedside table to find the leaflet for his favourite pizza parlour.

Min Yoongi - Absolution

Originally posted by mn-yg

Character : Yoongi x BTS

Genre : slight angst/fluff

Summary : Self-forgiveness was all he wished for on his birthday

| He wanted to turn 25, here. In his studio. In his little haven, the little home he built for himself. He wanted to turn 25 as Min Yoongi even though he supposedly killed Min Yoongi long ago as stated in one of his song. No Vapp broadcast this year. That was one of his request. Every year since they debuted, he celebrated his birthday with Army. Every year since 2013, he celebrated his birthday as Min Suga. However, this year when the member asked if he wanted to do another Vapp, he firmly rejected the idea.

Because I forgot who is Min Yoongi. Ever since we debuted, I have celebrated my birthday as Min Suga. As much as I love Army, as much as I love all of you, let me celebrate my 25 by myself. Let me find Min Yoongi again. He was me before I became Bangtan, before I became Agust D and before I became Min Suga..

Jungkook walked up to him, Ok, hyung. We respect that. We will see you back at the dorm later tonight and eat cake.

So here he sat, in a place where he shed tears of joy and pain. Where he gave up half of his teenage years for. He took the time to look around. To gently skim his fingers lightly over his sound mixer, to appreciate the 2 trophies standing proud on his shelf. Album of the Year (Melon) & Popularity Award (GAON). Those were the two awards he requested for. He still remembered what Namjoon said when he asked for it, It has always been yours hyung.

Min Suga never shows his emotions, Min Suga is strong. But right now, sitting here, with all this accomplishment, Min Yoongi broke down.

With the gentle flickering light from the burning scented candle that he always light, the clock strike midnight. Happy Birthday Min Yoongi.. Its been a long journey have it not? I’m sorry for abusing you all these years, I’m sorry for all the physical pain I have inflicted in this shell and soul. Most importantly I’m sorry for wanting to forget you, to leave you behind.

Yoongi sobbed onto his hands. Sobbed for the life that was once almost stolen from him when he tried to kill himself. Sobbed for the pain and uncertainty that he went through, for what the members went through. Sobbed for finally accepting that Min Yoongi, Min Suga & Agust D is really him. All of him. But most importantly he cried for finally being able to forgive himself.

He didn’t hear the door opened. He didn’t hear the clattering of footsteps but he did feel himself getting wrapped up and hugged from all sides by 6 warm bodies. He looked up and he saw all the members looking right at him. Tears either brimming on their eye or already streaming down their cheeks.

Happy birthday, Min Yoongi.. All of them whispered it out in unison when they let him go.

He stared at each of their faces. The magnae line crying the hardest. Jungkook who defiantly trying to wipe his tears off his face but failing to do so. The youngest of the group. The one boy he brought up. He saw him grew from day one. When he came walking into the studio and sat at the corner, watching his hyung trained. The little boy have grown into a man. A man Yoongi is really proud of. Thank you for letting me in your life. Thank you for giving me a reason to live again. The moment you walked through the door at 14 years of age, uncertain and awkward was the day hyung realized that you need me more than I needed myself.

He turned to look at Jimin who is holding on to a birthday cake with tears running down his face but still smiling. Not once has this younger boy forget any of their birthdays. Not once has this wonderful young man disappoint him. You saved me. Your infinite love for the members, for helping me overcome the darkness that wanted to swallow me whole. Thank you Jimin. That’s what hyung always wanted to tell you.

And then there’s Taehyung. Sweet Taehyung who have silently went behind Yoongi and wrapped his arm around his back. He could feel the wetness from his tears seeping through his shirt. For all his strangeness, Yoongi have always hold a soft spot for this particular member. Because in some ways, Taehyung reminds him of home. Warm and never judging. Hyung promise to never let go of your hands ever again. Let us fly together Taehyung. Let us finally find that beautiful moment in life cause hyung will be beside you for as long as you need me. I will be your home too.

He stared into Namjoon’s eyes. Mouthing the word Thank you. A thousand meaning hide behind those two words. Thank you for choosing me all those years ago to be part of this amazing team. Thank you for choosing me to be your hyung. You can finally lean on me now, Namjoon. Release some of your burden and share it with me. Hyung will carry it with you.

His gaze then settled onto Jin’s hyung face. Nothing is needed to be said for Jin. He just nodded to Jin and he received a smile in return. Thank you for being the person I come to when I got tired of being the older one in the group. Thank you for being my hyung and accepting me for who I am and what I have become.

He saved the best for last. Yoongi know he is not suppose to have any favorites within the team but Hoseok, he is his soul partner. His Yin to his Yang. Releasing himself from Taehyung backhug, he walked to Hoseok and pull him into a hug. Thank you for being who you are. For always being there for me. For showing me that there is still light. That hyung can be Yoongi, Agust D and Suga and yet I can still come home from training, from performing and from wherever I’m at and know that I have my guiding light, guiding me back home.

Namjoon once said “There is definitely, definitely certain things in this world that happened out of our control, So we.. Let’s us just forgive ourselves”

On March 9, 2017, 12:17 a.m. Yoongi finally did.

You know the reason The Beatles made it so big?…‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24/7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche…or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful song of the past fifty years can be traced back to 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding.
—  David Levithan, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist