#yuri plisetsky tank top

[theatregaymer]

A Tiger gets Tickles

Happy Birthday @dokidoki-muffin!

I wanted to write even just a small little something for you to celebrate your amazing artwork and the blessing of your friendship! So here is a little something I whipped up to celebrate you and this great Yuri on Ice piece you did!

Original art: https://dokidoki-muffin.tumblr.com/post/695227399163543552/i-had-a-bit-of-extra-time-today-and-a-decent-idea

Time truly was a fickle thing. It seemed like only yesterday that the World Finals of the Grand Prix occured in Barcelona, featuring highlights of both Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuri Katsuki shattering record times set by their inspiration and coach Victor Nikiforov. Now just over a year later, Yuuri had moved to Russia to live with Victor, the two of them pursuing not only competitive ice skating together but also a relationship as two people in love.

For the much younger Yuri however, their lovey dovey attitude around one another was pracitcally sickening. Of course this did not stop the blond from coming over to their shared place in Saint Petersburg, eating their food, sleeping in their guest room and insisting on training together when possible. He wouldn't say it out loud, but the two of them somehow became something of rolemodels for him, like a pair of gay uncles or something like that...well just not the creepy kind you hear about online.

Of course this meant they also tended to tease him as well, especially after he'd gotten much closer to a friend and fellow skating superstar Otabek Altin. Sure the two younger boys had gotten closer after reconnecting during last years finals but it wasn't anything dumb and sappy like those two! Of course, everyone had questions after a certain performance inspired by the Kazahk skater's performance in a rock club.

This of course happened to include his friends, whom he was staying with for an entire weekend whilst working on some new material. Currently dressed in only a pair of thermal exercise pants, a tank top and a comfortable hoodie, Yuri laid out on their sectional while watching a video of his performance of Welcome to the Madness with Otabek. Of course he wasn't actually watching for him of course, as much as he enjoyed a self critique session like any other athlete, he was watching the part specifically when Otabek joined him, brief as it was, to remove his gloves. He remembered that night, the two of them in the dressing room sharing their first kiss, it made him feel so giddy thinking about it that he rewound his performance just to watch the way Otabek looked at him.

"Ooooh Yurio's watching Otabek again hmm?" That sickeningly playful tone could only belong to one man. "As if...and don't call me that!" Yuri responded in a gruff tone, his cheeks however going an unmistakable shade of pink as he hit play once more, trying not to let his gaze linger on any one part for too long. "I'm only self reflecting." Meanwhile a certain piglet walked into the room, hounded by that fluffball of a dog they loved so much. He was carrying a tray with some hot cocoa, but why had he made three?

Victor answered that question by holding up a finger. "You know Otabek is going to be doing an interview this afternoon. We figured you might want to watch." Oh damn....that was right. Of course Yuri knew about it, but he'd always planned on just watching it in private as his grandfather had promised to record it for him. But to watch it live with these two!? It would be so embarrassing if Otabek gave some kind of secret signal or smirk at the camera, knowing the blond would be watching. "Wha...I don't want to watch that!" This was of course when Yuuri interjected. "Oh come on now, we all want to watch his interview right?" Victor sat down on the blond's left, Yuri setting the hot chocolates down on the coffee table before taking a place on his right.

Now his blush had moved up into his ears, both men easily telling how embarrassed he was, his tough facade fading quickly as soon as he watched the screen switch over from the recording to a pre segment to the very interviews they were holding. victor was the perpetrator, smiling directly at Yur with that knowing grin on his face. "Ah n-no! We can't!" He went into full panic mode, leaning over in desperation to lock two hands on the remote as Victor tried to hold it away from him. "Ah ah aaah Yurio, sharing is caring! Besiiides what are you so afraid of? Perhaps you two have your own language hmmm? Expecting a little embarrassing message from Otabek?" One of Victor's favorite activities raised it's ugly head, teasing the youngest of the trio as he continued holding onto the remote, albeit not too hard as he knew as long as he only used one hand, the younger boy would cling to it with both in an effort to win, leaving his torso open to yet another fun little game the oldest liked to play.

"Tickle tickle Yuriooo, you can keep the remote or keep your smile inside but we both know what you'll choooose." As if he wasn't already panicking enough, the sudden desire to tuck in his arms was blocked out by the need to keep both hands on the controller. Suddenly, the young Russian felt it, that dexterous hand beginning to dig in and wriggle around his ribcage, the hoodie designed to protect from the cold but not the tickle monster. "GEhehe nah nohoho you beahastaha gehe...pfftheEHehah gehet off meehehhe!" As they tousled about, Yuuri made sure to scoot the tray of drinks a bit further away as he knew what was happening. Of course he found it adorable as well, seeing the young tiger in love like that. He too had grown quite fond of Yuri, over the time they'd started as rivals and become very good friends despite the difference in age, and the younger had tought him a lot of things about skating, and of course learned a fair bit from him as well in return.

"I have to say I think majority might rule on this one Yurio, I think we both would like to watch Otabek be interviewed." The Japanese skater was of course just hamming it up a little to go with the flow. Both he and Victor had met and gotten along well with the skater from Kazakhstan, and they had definitely see his cool and collected demeanor tend to shift when around Yuri was around. "BAhaha aha nah nohoh we dohohn'theha screhewha that hah AH NAH no wahahitha nahaha dohohon't touch me you dahamn katsuhuhudohohnAHAhahAHAHA!" Smiling innocently, Yuri had decided that he didn't want to be left out of this adorable little bonding moment, having scooped up one of Yuri's bare ankles before bringing his own lithe fingers to bear on his soft size eight sole.

With both men physically being superior and his own efforts focused on holding onto that remote for dear life, poor Yurio could do little but squirm about and laugh. "BWAHAHa AHa EEHEhe naha nohoh lehet gohoho!" Victor only clicked his tongue at the command, "Tsk tsk I don't think so Yurio, He's going to be on soon after all, why not just watch with us with some nice hot cocoa?" Yurio shook his head in defiance, prompting that tickling hand to swoop up into his armpit and earning a squeal in response. "NYAAAHAHa AHAha ah nohoho stahahap tickle meeheEHe AHAHA NO NOHH youhuhu pihihiggyhyhy get oohohoff!" Yuri weakly tried kicking his legs, only to have his free one trapped  by Katsuki's arm, letting him focus fully on the vulnerable one in his grasp. "Hmm piggy, there's an idea. Hmhm thiiis little piggy went to maaarkeeet...." The childish rhyme beginning was the briefest of warnings for the poor blond, who now felt those fingers invading his toes, curling the digits sa much as he could while making a much more pig-like squeal.

These tickles lasted several minutes it seemed, the best responses occuring when Yuuri would flutter his fingers against Yurio's arch, of Victor chose to bury his fingers in between his ribs. finally he couldn't take it any longer, releasing his hold on the remote in favor of protecting his own self, curling into a giggly ball and rolling onto the carpeted floor as Makachin bounded over to sniff at him and perhaps get some cuddles of his own. Thank god the two older skaters had mercy enough not to follow him to the floor for further embarrassment, the blond unable to really greet the dog with open arms as he hastily rubbed at his sides and ribs, his feet sliding back and forth on the carpeting to rid himself of those nasty tingling sensations the tickling had caused.

"Aww we missed it, someone was laughing so loudly we didn't notice Otabek was talking." Victor taunted, making the blond look up to indeed see his crush shaking the interviewer's hand and being thanked for his time. A sigh and a sense of relief flooded over him, his body trembling even now as he came down from the unexpected high, only to hear Yuri's voice chime in once more. "Well it's a good thing we were recording it, let's make sure to watch it together."

Yuri's mind blanked for a moment as the realization hit him, that he'd been tickled for nothing. ".....eh?"

[bestofacqr]

[basedtees]

Yuri "X" replica tank top as shown in anime! Fantastic for gifts and for cosplays.

https://basedtees.com/listing/524036135/yuri-x-tank-top

[yukipri]

YOI Future!Verse ABO AU - the OC Kiddies Group Picture

Realized I hadn’t drawn any actual full color illustrations of them interacting so :’D

~~

“Is Shura alright?? He’s starting to shake...” - Concerned Minami

“He’ll be fine! He’s a strong boy, he can hold ‘em. One more! Or ten, maybe twenty, hold still and LOOK THIS WAY!” - Giddy Phichit

“AHAHA Our kids are so adorable, they get along so well! Send the pics to me right away!” - Equally Giddy Victor

“Yuuji’s face is starting to turn green...is that alright...” - Concerned Yurio

“I hope so...” - Most Concerned Yuuri

(Your guess is as good as mine for their ages, the twins are 3 years older than Arisa who is 3 years older than Yuuji, but the twins look older bc of Russian genes and Arisa’s tiny and Yuuji’s even tinier...)

~~

IF YOU ARE NEW TO THIS AU: It’s a Yuri!!! on Ice AU, Yuuri-centric with end-game polyamory in an ABO setting, Yuuri gets married to four mates (Victor, Yurio, Phichit, Minami) and they have OC kids.

BASICS and timeline of this AU

INTRO to how ABO works in this AU

A SUPER DETAILED world-building headcanons post on ABO+ in this AU

OTHER POSTS (comics + illustrations) in the Future!Verse ABO section of my YOI Masterpost.

~~

Please keep ship bashing out of the comments/tags. Don’t like, just skip <3 Thank you.

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. More detailed rules available on my Rules & FAQ Post.

[yurio-plisetksy]

Underestimated: Yuri Plisetsky x Reader

Request: Head cannon/ scenario were Yurio has to take more ballet classes 1 on 1 with the top student/dancer who's like a little chubby so he doubts they can do anything but then sees they're actually so much better than him??? If that makes sense????

The sensation of his muscles burning under the surface if his skin wasn’t unfamiliar at all. The uncomfortable stretch as he forced his body into impossible curves had been his practice since he was little. But his new coach had managed to surpass his limits.

“Fully stretch your feet, Yura. I can see you slacking.”

Yuri rolled his eyes in response, not exactly agreeing on the slacking part since he was giving it his all. He just wasn’t able to bend them at such an angle, and she was asking him the impossible. He couldn’t give her what she expected of him, and it was getting more and more frustrating the longer practice went on. When the moment arrived when his muscles were shaking under the intensity of his forced stance, and there were beads of sweat rolling down the curve of his nose, she stepped up to him with a threatening look.

Her slender fingers wrapped around his ankle, and with a harsh flick of her wrist she twisted it.

“Fuck!” Yuri called out, referring towards the cramp that twisted into the muscle of his feet. His toes curled down, and as much as he wanted to stretch it again and get rid of the pain, his coach was eyeing his form with disapproval in her eyes.

“I can’t work with you if you’re not able to give me a perfect form. I know that you’ve been participating in this ballet class for a while, but you have only improved this much.”

She pulled her hand back, and at the sound of her fingers snapping Yuri released himself from the cruel position, and loudly groaned as he stretched his foot back into comfort.

“I’ve been practicing at least 5 hours a day… what more do you want from me?!” The Russian plopped himself down on the floor of her studio. He angrily tugged the shoes from his feet and sighed in relief as he finally freed them from the tight material they were trapped in. It didn’t surprise him that droplets of crimson began to stain the floor, he just needed to remind himself to clean it up as he left.

“I know, Yuri. It has been tough… that’s why I’m assigning you another teacher.” Her back was turned to him, her form perfect as ever as she scribbled a number and a name on a small piece of paper. Yuri eyed her once she returned to him, and grabbed the note that was handed to him.

“Another teacher? So you’re saying I will be working on my ballet even more… Fucking great.”

“___?”

At the mention of your name you turned towards the skater, already expecting him as your teacher had asked you for a favor. You offered him a smile, already eyeing his form as he walked up to you to greet you with a firm handshake.

“Yes, that’s me. You must be Yuri. Nice to meet you…” He eyed you with a hesitant look in his eyes. You were not what he had been expecting at all. Like his coach, most ballet dancers had straight, skinny and sharp structures in their build. Legs representing only muscle and almost no sign of fat whatsoever. But your curves were the exact opposite of that stereotype, and he wondered if you were even capable of attaining such form as the usual ballet dancers.

“Yeah, sure…. So, are you the one who’s going to teach me?” It had happened before that people questioned you about your abilities, but you knew you were one of the top dancers of your class. And really, doing such an art with a body type that was labeled as ‘not proper’ for this sport was already difficult by itself.

“Before you’re gonna judge me, you should see what I’m capable of first.” A standard response to people who didn’t believe that you actually could dance. Yuri held his hands above his hands in defense, trying to act like you didn’t just read his thoughts. But after thinking about your statement you figured that maybe he should show you what he could do first, so you knew what level you were working with.

“I take that back, do you have anything choreographed yet that you could show me?” Yuri, who was seated on the ground whilst tying his pointe shoes, shrugged in response, and that wasn’t really something that gave you enough information if he did or not. So you assumed he came prepared and asked him on what song he wanted to perform.

As he handed you a Cd from his bag, you eyed his messily tied shoes with a disapproving look. But as he didn’t seem like the type to be fond of subtle criticism, you spared yourself a snappy remark by just placing the Cd into the player without saying another word. You motioned towards the center of the room, calling out for him to position himself in his first stance.

“All right, show me what you got.”

“... I mean… that wasn’t bad at all…” You smiled as the Russian ended his choreography, chest heaving up and down as he quickly got rid of the returning cramp in his leg by stretching for a bit. You handed him some water, along with the tip to stay hydrated to refrain him from getting muscle spasms.

“I’ve been doing ballet since I was little, so it’s not like I’m still struggling to keep up. It’s just that my coach thinks my form isn’t perfected yet and I don’t look beautiful while dancing…” For some reason getting this explanation from him felt somewhat relieving, as if he knew that there was still room for improvement and that he actually wanted to perfect his routine.

You chuckled at his words, crouching down next to him as he drank from the water bottle.

“First of all, let’s try to smile as we dance. That by itself will make your routine a tad bit more beautiful…” You offered your own smile as an example, and he just stared up at you with regret in his eyes, probably mentally cursing at his coach for setting him up with miss. sunshine, aka you.

He didn’t like ballet, he liked ice skating. That’s why he barely smiled while dancing. You furrowed your eyebrows at his unimpressed expression. A exhausted sigh made its way past your lips and you knew teaching this kid was gonna be a big task. You could already feel your energy draining from your body as he yawned under your gaze.

But if miss sunshine wasn’t going to work, then you’d go for lady badass and stricten your teaching. You weren’t going to waste your time by putting up with his rebellious attitude, and he didn’t have to expect your coöperation if he wasn’t cooperating himself.

Yuri jumped at the sound of your hands coming together, the aura around your presence changing as he averted his gaze back to your face. Your lips curled into a smirk, hands finding each other behind your back while you straightened your shoulders.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

Yuri had underestimated you, and from the bottom of his heart he felt like apologizing for his quick judgement. He couldn’t deny that the way your body moved caused his heart to skip a beat, and to say you were talented was still an understatement.

You were a prodigy. A miracle still waiting to be discovered. To be judged by professionals for your dance instead of your body type. But the world of dance wasn’t fair, and you had to adjust yourself to be able to be taken seriously at all.

Before he started this class he had thought of Lilia to be the toughest, strictest trainer there was, but under your gaze he felt much more tense. The way your eyes scanned every single movement of his body, the way your voice echoed through the room as you instructed him to straighten his leg, and the clap of your hands when he needed to start over was causing shivers up his spine. But improvement was being made, and he definitely noticed.

His muscles became less and less sore as his limbs got used to the familiar stretches, and he was getting less and less tired as he finished his performance.

The real satisfaction came when you told him that he was the most beautiful dancer you’d seen in awhile. He actually smiled when you complimented him,genuine and sweet to which you wondered why he would hide it behind his rebellious attitude.

He was a constant tease as well, always commenting on the way you stuttered as you complimented him, or shooting a quick whistle in your direction as you removed your shirt to reveal the tank top underneath. It caused you to go red from time to time, and you caught yourself looking forward to spending time with him as he continued his banter.

“That was really good… I think I’m done teaching you…” You spoke, as he showed you his perfected, improved routine. He smiled, teeth bare for you to see how genuine it was and a small chuckle confirming that fact as well.

“I think there’s still one thing left to do…” An raised eyebrow came from you in response to his vague statement. You motioned him to spill his secretive words, and when he did, warmth began to rise to your cheeks.

“___, would you like to go out sometime?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t expect this to happen, it was more like you hadn’t expected him to ask you at this moment. Just after he finished his routine, and he was still somewhat out of breath.

It took you a moment to realise he was still waiting for you answer.

“Y-Yes. I’d love to Yuri…”

[kingfisherunion]

I’ve never...

Chapter 4 - 2013, Calgary

Read on Ao3

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Relationships:

Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky

Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky

Otabek Altin/Jean-Jacques Leroy

Otabek Altin & Jean-Jacques Leroy

Characters:

Otabek Altin

Yuri Plisetsky

Jean-Jacques Leroy

Potya | Puma Tiger Scorpion

Additional Tags:

Drinking

Underage Drinking

Past Relationship(s)

Heartbreak

Jealousy

Bisexual Male Character

Drinking Games

Fluff and Angst

Flashbacks

Unrequited Love

DJ Otabek Altin

Pining

Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky Are Best Friends

Protective Otabek Altin

Jean-Jacques Leroy Being an Asshole

Singer Jean-Jacques Leroy

Bisexual Jean-Jacques Leroy

Eventual Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky

Post-Canon

Pre-Canon

Otabek smokes

Depressed Otabek

Pining Otabek Altin

Language: English

Series: Part 1 of the What He Was to Me series

Otabek stared hazily into his lap, unsure what to say. JJ’s weight pressed into his side was paralyzing. He found himself becoming acutely aware of every spot where their skin touched - JJ’s chin on his shoulder, his hand on the back of Otabek’s neck, the way their bare ankles brushed together as JJ swiveled his hips to face him.

JJ dragged himself up the stairs and into the apartment without another word to Otabek, leaving him panicked and soaking wet in the stairwell.

His heart was pounding. He had just confessed. Kind of. Well. Propositioned. Well... More like threatened.

It didn’t matter anyway. JJ hadn’t even tried to take him seriously. Maybe neither of them would even remember it happened, come morning. He could only hope.

The next morning and the week that followed were quiet and tense. There were no unwarranted lessons during their independent practice time. In fact, for what felt like the first time in months, Otabek practiced alone. He ought to have been thrilled. But, finally blessed with a quiet practice rink and no scrutinous eyes, he actually found himself less able to focus. JJ’s sudden avoidance was so jarring; he could think of nothing else but how could and why didn’t I just and what if he and so on.

At home, meals were still cooked for two, but eaten alone. Acoustic guitar still buzzed and sang, but from the privacy of JJ’s bedroom. When he did spend time out in the living room it was to tune out in front of a video game. No invitations to join. No chips and beer. This was self-preservation.

But why? If he thought it was a joke, why was he pushing away all of a sudden?

Maybe Otabek just needed to talk about it. Apologize for making him uncomfortable and acknowledge that it was a bad idea born from a moment of impaired judgment.

Unfortunately, that would be a lie. His judgment was the same now as it had been Saturday night. And now that JJ was all the more out of reach... the ache of wanting was becoming unmanageable.

”I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself.” I’m not going to take advantage of you. ”How would you be if I want it?”

The following weekend, JJ Style was playing some all-day music festival. Otabek had planned on going, but when Saturday rolled around it didn’t seem worth the stress and isolation. He stayed in bed all morning, chasing away thoughts of JJ’s face in the artificial glow of the lights in the stairwell, pupils wide, body pressed against his own... If only he’d gone in for that kiss when he had the chance.

He spent some time at the gym, trying in vain to keep his mind occupied. He wanted to skate but the loneliness practicing had brought him lately didn’t seem worth it. He got a fast-food dinner and wasted away the rest of the evening on video games before collapsing early into bed and trying - unsuccessfully - to get to sleep before JJ got home.

From the rhythm of his heavy footfalls Otabek could tell he was drunk. A click of glass bottles confirmed his suspicion. The band was here. Crashing, he was sure, on the couch again so they could party just a bit longer into the night. He thought he heard one or two girls with them.

The crew’s celebration was just enough to keep Otabek awake. He turned to his laptop, tried to work on his music, then to study videos of various skaters’ quads, then even to just play a game. No use. He was miserable. He cranked up the volume on his headphones and closed his eyes.

JJ didn’t knock when he entered an hour later.

”Beks?”

The door closing behind him shook Otabek from his half-sleep. He sat up, shaking his head.

”Jean...” he murmured.  JJ sat down next to him and leaned against his shoulder. His hair smelled like mint and a little like sweat, but all the same it was soft against his cheek.

”I thought you were coming to the Jamfest. I missed you today.”

Otabek stared hazily into his lap, unsure what to say. JJ’s weight pressed into his side was paralyzing. He found himself becoming acutely aware of every spot where their skin touched - JJ’s chin on his shoulder, his hand on the back of Otabek’s neck, the way their bare ankles brushed together as JJ swiveled his hips to face him.

And then, seamlessly, his hand underneath his shirt, lips on his neck, the dizzying tingle of fingertips teasing up and down his spine.

“Jean...” he gasped. “I-“

He was shut up by JJ’s lips against his own. The Canadian pulled Otabek underneath him on the bed, face in his hands, kissing him without any sort of inhibition. Otabek could hardly breathe. As the tension mounted between them he clawed at JJ’s back, pulling greedily at his tank top, his hair, the waistband of his jeans... JJ’s body was drawing him in - he couldn’t pull him close enough. He ripped the tank top off, and then his own, was sent reeling at the first sensation of their bare bodies pressed together.

”Is this okay?” JJ breathed into his neck. Breathless, Otabek nodded, and the two fell back together onto the bed, pawing and grasping at every inch of one another they could reach, kissing and biting hungrily at each other’s necks and lips and shoulders.

[wondersmith39]

ten thousand years late to the party with the type meme and oh no they turned out hot, I want to keep them as proper OCs now

my handwriting continues to be dreadful so good luck reading that, but I’m putting the list of common threads under the cut too if you’re interested, as well as the list of characters I based them off of bc a) there’s a fuckton of them and b) I don’t know how to make those neat little grids everyone else has been doing so it’s better to keep it simple with just text.

Okay for the dude, influences included: Zuko, Todoroki Shouto, L, APH Prussia and England, Dean Winchester, Lucifer from spn (who isn’t really that much of a fave but I added him after I noticed he fit a lot of the visual trends) Greed the Avaricious, (both versions), Steve Harrington, Han Solo, Fukase, vocaloid Oliver, Lance McClain, Tsukishima Kei, Yuri Plisetsky, Franken Stein, and Alois Trancy

(I’ve seen this meme done both with characters people think are hot, and just faves, so this is a mix of both, hence the inclusion of both Mark Pellegrino’s Lucifer for thirst value as the epitome of everything terrible about my taste, but also my babies Alois, Ollie, etc.)

Common threads included being really tall and/or really skinny resulting in the lanky looking fucker above, a smartass and/or flirty attitude, overcoats, pushed-up sleeves, layers, scruffy shaggy hair, and some kinda fucked-up skin on his face (Zuko and Todoroki’s burn scars, Lucifer’s increasingly bad abrasions, Stein’s scars, Steve and Dean’s frequently beat-up faces, whatever the hell is going on with Fukase, etc. I have a problem)

For the girl: Olivier Mira Armstrong, Satsuki Kiryuin, V(3) flower, Kyoko Sakura, Momo Yaoyorozu, Symmetra, Rosa Diaz, Elizabeth Swann, Phyrra Nikos, Grell Sutcliff, Moana and APH Belarus. (I’d bold the list like the other but they’re all perfect so they’d all be bolded)

I also wanted to include Eleven (sheer aesthetic value of that dress in s1), Rose Tico, and Lan Fan, but they kinda bucked the trends (also see the kid issue mentioned above)

Harder to find common threads for this one but: the colour red, overall less likely to be white, long long hair, swords/weapons in general, and a general vibe that they could kick my ass and I’d thank them. Also, a lot of them had jackets, but a lot of them also had vests or tank tops so I went for a letterman jacket since it kinda looks like both.

Overall I’d say it was easier to find trends for the male characters, but there were more female characters I’m ride or die for.

[nomanono]

#NaNoWriMo - Day1

Haven’t decided whether to post this to AO3, so you just get it here for now <3

Chris grunted into the stiff hotel pillow as the cock slipped out of his ass. The soft thing dripped into his crack but the last thing he minded was the stickiness. He laid there, groaning his appreciation and gratitude, until it started to get tacky on his skin.

The hotel room wasn’t anything special, but it had scent eaters in the corners and the pheromones wafting from Chris in waves were overwhelming.

“I needed that,” Chris said, tugging two anti-scent tissues and swiping up the mess between his legs.

“I know the feeling.”

Chris snorted. “It feels best after a win, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You did better than me.”

“Still.”

Chris took a third tissue, going to the bathroom and settling on the toilet. He pressed out until the cum started to drool into the pot, and when he’d gotten the gloppiest of it out he wiped again. By the time he came back to the room, his partner was dressed, a stack of wadded tissues sitting on the bed.

“I mean it, though,” Chris said, holding out his hand. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t like he normally took new skaters to his bed. But he wasn’t supposed to go into heat for another two weeks, and this off-cycle spike had caught him unawares - and partnerless - just in time for the qualifier. He didn’t have enough warning to get a blocker. He hadn’t even realized it until he caught the eyes of several scenting alphas roaming over him and realized the seat of his pants was damp. That he’d managed to find someone interested in helping him off was a godsend.

“It’s no problem, really,” Yuuri Katsuki assured him, with the same shy blush he’d had when they started. “Really.”

—

“You going to be okay?” Victor asked Chris a week and a half later. Different hotel room. Same starchy sheets and too-thick pillows. They shared Skate Canada this year.

Chris always skated better when he was in a rink with Victor.

“Yeah,” Chris said, tightening around Victor’s knot. “You still tracking my cycle?”

Victor gave him that cheesiest of smiles: “You smell like you’re seconds off. It’s killing me. I don’t need an app for that.”

“Ohhh, I forgot I shared you on mine,” Chris said.

“Yeah. What was with that spike you had? Did you go to a parlor?” Victor asked.

“Parlor? Victor, please.”

“I know, I know, you have alphas barking down your door at all hours,” Victor smirked. “None are prettier than I am, are they?”

“Never,” Chris laughed. He settled down, pulling Victor with him to snuggle while they waited for his knot to recede. He pressed his face into Victor’s neck, breathed in the scent of the only alpha he ever wanted. He nuzzled and snuffed, wishing he could get high on the heady thickness of Victor’s pheromones. “And their knots are smaller, too.”

“I should hope,” Victor snorted. “I feel bad, you know.”

“Yeah I’m sure you really suffer.”

Victor swatted his side, and Chris just groaned, flexing around Victor’s knot again, feeling another flush of heat in his bowels where Victor was filling him with sterile seed. And even if it hadn’t been sterile, Chris’ implant took care of any eggs that might be floating around inside him.

“For you, mon ami, I would,” Victor purred, nipping at Chris’ neck in return. “Tell me he was small and unsatisfying?”

“He was smaller than you,” Chris reassured Victor. “But I didn’t need much. It was just a little flare up. One of the other skaters —“

“Not Leroy!” Victor gasped.

“That beta? No,” Chris snorted. “Oh —!” He gasped as he felt Victor’s knot tug on his hole, threatening to pop out. “Victor, what are you —?”

“I’m bored,” Victor whined, giving another tug.

“This is why I only sleep with you when you’re rutting, or I’m in heat,” Chris grimaced. “Weren’t you just talking about how I smell?”

“Well,” Victor said. “…. Now you smell like me.”

“Oh, god, Victor, did you mark me?!” Chris cursed, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at the silver-haired skater.

“JUST A LITTLE,” Victor leapt to the defense.

Chris groaned. “Dammit, Victor, you’re supposed to tell me before you do that.”

“I’m sorry!” Victor whined. “You just feel so good.”

Chris sighed. It was a losing battle with Victor. Plus, he was looking at Chris through his bangs, beautiful blue eyes and thick batting lashes. Chris pressed his lips together, steeling himself against Nikiforov’s wiles.

“I’ll stay here for your heat,” Victor cooed his apology, his promise. “Fill you up? Knot you every hour? Mark your whole room? You like smelling me, don’t you, when you’re cycling?”

Did he ever. But Chris was still trying to be upset with him. He looked away, crossing his arms over his naked chest. It was remarkable, how difficult it was to stay mad at someone when the inflatable bulb of their dick was locked inside your colon.

“Just because I like smelling you when I’m in heat doesn’t mean I want you to piss in my ass when we’re casually fucking,” Chris glared.

“Sorry,” Victor frowned, and Chris sighed, because now Victor looked legitimately hurt and apologetic.

“It’s fine,” Chris said. He opened up his arms and Victor swam into them - or as much as he could, given his still-lodged cock. “Just tell me next time, OK?”

“OK,” Victor said. “…I’ll stay here for your heat?”

“Yeah,” Chris said, fingers washing through Victor’s hair. “You ready for it?”

Victor snorted. “I’m your stunt-cock. Your on-call Alpha. Your unofficial fuck boi —“

“That’s not what that means,” Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“What it means,” Victor corrected him, “is that I’ve got your back. Or your ass. You know. I’m there for you.”

They’d been doing this for years now, and it was true.

“Yeah,” Chris smiled at last, squeezing Victor to his chest. “Yeah I know.”

—

The Grand Prix Final was exactly as Chris expected. Victor on the top of the podium, Chris on his right, just beneath him. <I>Just like in bed</i> Victor always used to wink, until Chris said it didn’t sit well with him. Not that he’d want to be beneath anyone else, but for once in all his years he wanted to best Victor Nikiforov - Victor Nikiforov who was still at the top of his game despite being one of the eldest skaters on the roster. Even Chris was starting to feel old, running out of years he could use to get his gold.

Yuuri Katsuki, the man who’d offered to help, had made it to the GPF too, only to tank - and brutally. Chris didn’t even get a chance to talk to him; he bolted before the sweat of his costume was even dry.

No one saw him again until the banquet. Chris and Victor were on the edge of the dance floor when Katsuki sauntered, ever so intoxicated, to the middle. Katsuki smelled like raw omega ass, powerful enough that the few people in the room with noses for pheromones were bug-eyed as he paraded himself. Chris thought it was rude, not to wipe up your scents when you were done - especially if Yuuri had been with someone in heat. But Victor?

Well, Victor could hardly resist Chris normally. And with that scent in the air? They all got pulled into the wonderful drunken madness of it. Yuri Plisetsky suddenly battled against Katsuki, paso doble and tango and bolero, fighting for a chance to win Victor’s tutelage. Victor ate it up, happily fell into follow position, hung on every lop-sided smile Katsuki threw his way.

Not that Chris was going to miss an opportunity to show off, too.

They wound up almost naked, dancing from the poles near the front of the dance floor to Victor’s brilliant smile and heartfelt applause.

They danced, and they danced, and Chris couldn’t remember how it ended, only that he woke up the next day head pounding, with seventeen new texts from Victor Nikiforov.

—

Chris blinked through his messages from Victor

He’s perfect. I’m going to marry him. How does Yuuri Nikiforov sound?

what are you TALKING about, Chris texted back.

Victor sent three blocks of emojis: smilies and hearts and rainbows and Chris just shook his head.

I’m going to marry him, Victor texted.

you slept with him didn’t you

He wasn’t in my bed when I woke up …but I wouldn’t put it past me

“Neither would I,” Chris shook his head - bad mistake - and put his phone down. He had a plane to catch.

Fuck, he had a plane to catch!

By the time he checked his phone again, sometime in the taxi on the way to the Sochi Airport, Victor’s tune had completely changed.

My life is over

OK wait, Chris texted, because it wasn’t like Victor had a flare for the dramatic or anything. What?

He rejected me

Katsuki?

MY FUTURE HUSBAND TO BE YES

well did you fucking propose to him i would have turned you down too

I ASKED HIM FOR A PHOTO

like a dick pic?

A COMMEMORATIVE PHOTO CHRIS

????

He just looked at me like I was speaking Russian I said it again in English just to make sure I hadn’t said it in Russian AND HE JUST WALKED AWAY

ouch

HOLD ME

seriously?

Facetime?

going through security

The next messages were just an endless stream of crying faces. Chris blinked slow and shook his head. Victor Nikiforov, ladies and gentlemen. Chris’ best friend. His stunt cock. And now apparently the future husband of one very disinterested Yuuri Katsuki.

Chris blanched.

Fuck.

He’d accidentally already fucked Victor’s future husband.

Chris visibly winced.

Maybe it was for the best things hadn’t worked out.

—

Victor was insufferable all through Nationals and into the Four Continents. Whining, fretting, texting at all hours of the night.

“Go to a parlor,” Chris said in the lockers. “You need something new for your nose.”

“I’ve tried,” Victor said. The drama was leaking out of him, and the hollowness it left behind was even worse. Chris frowned. He’d never seen Victor look so … old. Tired. Even as he’d aged, Victor had kept a sense of timelessness about him. He was unstoppable. Tireless. Vigorous. Now his eyes were flecked with distance, his body here but his heart somewhere else. “It’s nothing like him.”

“You don’t even know what he’ll smell like when he’s not… like that,” Chris said.

“I don’t need to know,” Victor said.

“You need to get over him,” Chris said. “He said no.”

“He said nothing,” Victor corrected, but instead of his prior, obnoxious optimism now he simply seemed resigned.

“Come on,” Chris zipped up his jacket. “Stop that. It’s over. You’ve got a gold meal to win.”

Victor grimaced like he didn’t care, but he wound up winning gold anyway.

—

Chris didn’t get many texts about Victor’s Future Husband (tm) after that. He told himself it was because Victor was prepping for Worlds, he’d finally seen the light and gotten over it, but in reality it was because Chris didn’t get many texts at all.

rut’s coming up, Chris finally broke the silence.

Yeah

so?

I can go to a parlor

i’ll come to you, Chris texted. you know that right?

Now who’s the fuck boi?

…. that really doesn’t mean what you think it means

It’s okay It’s so close to Worlds I’ll just parlor

you sure?

Yeah. Thanks tho <3

np, and Chris clicked off his phone, only to get a new video notification:

Yuuri Katsuki trying Victor Nikiforov’s free skate

[iamtheicetiger]

This Will Be Our Dirty Little Secret // Complete

Characters: Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin, Mila Babicheva Setting: Moscow, Russia, the morning after Set On Fire Summary: Yuri and Otabek’s lazy morning ends early when Mila discovers them together. Warnings: Language

Otabek: 

If Otabek had been asked the night before whether or not he could sleep forever with Yuri by his side, he would have said yes without hesitation; if he had been asked the same question in his confused, groggy state as he woke to the sound of pounding on the door, he would have probably still agreed, but maybe with a little less gusto.  

“Hmm?” he huffed, eyes flying open.  Reaching over to the bedside table and groping around awkwardly for his phone, he pressed the home button and felt his heart jump into his throat.  “Fuck,” he cursed, trying to sit up and immediately being pulled back down by long, pale arms and legs wrapped around his entire body.  The pounding on the door continued as he tried, a little more carefully, to disentangle himself.  “I’m coming,” he called out, finally stepping onto the floor.  His gaze swept down to the sleeping blonde in his bed, and he smiled softly before turning around and padding over to the door.  

The moment he opened it, his heart sank.  “Mila,” he stated, hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head.  He stepped into the hall and pulled the door to, uncaring of his lack of clothing, just not wanting her to see Yuri in his bed.

“Otabek,” she responded.  Her gaze moved past him to the nearly-closed door and she raised her eyebrows.  “Is there a reason I’m not allowed in your room?”

“What?” Otabek stammered, heart pounding.  “No, no, it’s just really dirty and uh…” He cringed internally, realizing no amount of excuses could convince Mila to go away.  He didn’t stop her as she pushed past him and into the room, just followed her and waited for the inevitable freakout.

At first there was a long silence.  Otabek hoped and prayed to whoever may be listening that it was a good silence, but then Mila turned around and fixed him with a scathing glare.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she demanded.  Loudly.

Yuri: 

Having mostly sobered up before falling asleep, Yuri actually had gotten a fantastic sleep. In fact, he was pretty sure that this was the best sleep he’d gotten in quite awhile. He was comfortable, wrapped around Otabek for the entire night.

Until Otabek insisted on getting up and answering the knocking at his door, that was. Yuri whined softly as the musician pulled away from him, hoping that the man would quickly get rid of whoever it was that was bugging them so early in the morning. If Otabek got rid of them and allowed the blonde to sleep for just another hour, Yuri would definitely repay him with a round two.

The bed was cold now that Otabek had gotten up, and Yuri snuggled sleepily more into the covers, trying to ignore the conversation that was going on outside of the door.

Suddenly, though, the door was open, an angry voice rousing him from any sleep he had still hoped to get. “Would you shut up?” he grumbled, pulling the comforter up over his head as he once again tried to tune out the shrill voice that was entirely inappropriate given how early it surely was.

Otabek: 

Otabek winced.  If Mila wasn’t upset about the situation before, she certainly was now:  her face turned from anger to absolute rage quicker than Otabek thought possible.

“No, I will not shut up,” she spat in Yuri’s direction.  “Otabek, care to explain what he’s doing in your bed?  I thought the two of you hated each other, then I found out I was wrong, then I thought you two had learned your lesson and now I find out that I’m wrong again?”

“What is the matter with you?” Otabek demanded, glaring at Mila.  “So I slept with him!  So what?  How is that any of your business?”

“It’s my business because I’m your manager and you are a popular musician who has to maintain a certain level of professionalism, Otabek,” Mila retorted with a bit more venom than necessary.  “Sleeping with your fans will not earn you anything.”

Otabek scoffed.  “Yuri is not my fan, Mila, he’s different.”  His eyes flicked over to the blonde.  

“Oh, different?  Yeah, I’m sure he’s different, sleeping with a well-known musician on a whim.”

Yuri:

Yuri hadn’t expected Mila to listen, and he groaned loudly as she snapped at him, unsure of what exactly he had done to make her so angry. He had a habit of pissing people off, but he was pretty sure that his only fault right now in her eyes was that he was falling for Otabek.

His eyes shot over toward the pair, rolling them languidly as the manager continued to spout off. This obsession over who Otabek chose to sleep with didn’t seem like part of her job description, and he was growing more annoyed the more she spoke.

Knowing that his sleep was definitely over at this point, Yuri sat up, sharp eyes glaring over at Mila. He was still half asleep, he was grumpy, and now, Yuri was livid. A fan? Yuri wasn’t some fanboy who had stalked Otabek until he got what he wanted. He had barely even known who the man was until yesterday.

At the risk of angering Otabek, Yuri wasn’t about to just sit back and not stand up for himself.

“You don’t know anything about me, hag!” the Russian snarled, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “What the hell business is it of yours? Are you jealous because no one wants to fuck you? You shouldn’t even be in here right now!”

Otabek:

“Whoa, Yuri,” Otabek exclaimed, hands moving in a universal ‘calm down’ gesture as he made a clearly futile attempt to diffuse the situation.  “Mila, stop, just get out.”

“Oh, so you’re sending me out and not the slut who probably pestered you until you slept with him?” Mila shouted, eyes flashing and red hair fanning around her.  “And just for your information, Yuri, I’ve seen more action in the last year than you’ve seen your entire life.  You look like a fucking little girl.”

“Oh, Christ, Mila,” Otabek groaned.  “Get out!”  He turned to Yuri, panic in his eyes.  “Yuri, stop, antagonizing her will only make it worse.”

“I’m leaving, Otabek,” Mila seethed.  “It would probably be wise for you to send your whore away too, before you create negative press.”  The angry manager turned on her heel and swept out of the room like a tidal wave, slamming the door shut behind her with enough force to knock a picture off a nearby wall.  Otabek took a few deep breaths, ran his hands through his hair.  

“Yuri…” he started, but was unable to find the right words to say.

Yuri:

Un-fucking-believable.

Otabek wanted him to calm down? He was the innocent party here. Mila was the one who had burst into the room unwanted, slandering Yuri when he’d just been sleeping. He wasn’t just going to calm down.

“Fuck you, you dumb bitch!” Yuri roared, leaping out of the bed with absolute fire in his eyes. “And you,” he snapped, rounding on Otabek and poking an irate finger at his chest. “Are you kidding? I’m the one who’s antagonizing? Why are you taking her side?”

At this point, Yuri was hurt, but he didn’t want to betray that emotion. Anger was much easier for him, and anger was what Otabek was going to get at this point.

Yuri was seeing red, barely even noticing as Mila left the room despite how hard she had slammed the door. He stalked away from the bed, wishing more than anything that he hadn’t worn those skin-tight pants last night. Fury was written across his face as he tugged his tank top over his head. Rather than flounder with trying to shimmy into them and making himself look like an idiot in front of Otabek, he snatched them up and walked to the door.

“No,” Yuri said, his voice dangerously low. “Fuck you, Otabek. Clearly I should have never come back here with you.”

Otabek:

Otabek followed Yuri to the door, reaching out for him, but recoiled at Yuri’s final comment.  “You don’t mean that,” he said, trying but failing to keep the hurt out of his voice.  “I wasn’t trying to take anyone’s side, I just…she is hard to calm down once she gets started and I didn’t want it to get worse.  Please believe me, Yuri.”

Otabek searched Yuri’s angry face, trying to find a sliver of forgiveness in those roiling green eyes.  “Please,” he whispered.

Yuri:

“All those things she said about me, and you didn’t say anything,” Yuri barked, though he didn’t know why he ever would have expected someone he barely even knew to stand up for him. They may have shared a couple of secrets last night, but that didn’t mean that they knew each other. Clearly Otabek didn’t like Yuri as much as he had claimed.

“Slut, whore, little girl,” he rattled off, sneering at the musician. “You didn’t defend me at all!”

Otabek:

Otabek groaned, throwing his head back and running his hands through his hair nervously.  “Yuri, I told you, she’s difficult to calm down.  Of course I wanted to defend you, but imagine what would have happened.  I would be standing here having a very similar argument with her.”  He sighed, closing his eyes.  “And you know I don’t think you look like a little girl.  I wouldn’t have slept with you.”

Otabek felt himself losing the battle, seemingly powerless to stop it.  He opened his eyes and looked back down at Yuri.  “Please don’t do this.”

Yuri:

“I don’t need you to defend me now! I know that I don’t look like a little girl!” the Russian seethed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. Yuri knew that he was being a jerk, but he was upset. It wasn’t his fault that Otabek was scared of his manager. Yuri wasn’t going to put up with that shit.

Hard eyes stayed on Otabek for another moment before he was shaking his head. “Good luck on the rest of your tour,” Yuri said bitterly before he was turning on his heel and vacating the room, heading for the nearest public bathroom in the hotel so that he could at least fully dress himself before he completed his walk of shame back to his apartment.

Otabek:

A hundred thoughts swirled through Otabek’s mind as Yuri left.

Follow him. Tell him you need him. Remind him of last night. Follow him.

Follow him.

“Dammit.”  Otabek hung his head as he closed the door quietly behind Yuri, locking the deadbolt.  “What is happening?”  In a matter of a few minutes, Otabek felt the entire past twenty-four hours being torn from him, the happiness he’d felt souring.  Unable to stop tears from trickling out of his eyes, he leaned against the wall by the door and sank until he was sitting on the floor, knees curled up to his chest, crying into his arms.  Of course he knew he couldn’t tell Yuri everything he felt or he would drive him away even further, but the thought did seem tempting.  

Then, out of nowhere, a chilling thought occurred to Otabek:  he was supposed to play a show at Yuri’s venue in a mere few days.  His heart lurched in his chest, and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick; how had he not remembered something so important?  What was Yuri going to do?  Would he contact Otabek and tell him to forget about the show?  His venue would lose a lot of money if he did that, but did it really seem so irrational after everything that had just happened?  In Otabek’s grief-clouded mind, it didn’t.  He pushed himself up into a standing position and trotted over to the bedside table where he’d left his phone, picking it up and shooting Mila a quick text.

>How am I going to play a show at his place?

He waited a few minutes but when there was no response he growled at the phone.  Backing out of Mila’s text screen, he stared at the home page.  His thoughts went back to the night before and his talk about JJ.

He’ll want to know what just happened, Otabek thought.  Reopening the texting app, he tapped the button to begin a new text and frowned.  At the top of his contact list he noticed a hodgepodge of symbols.  Curious, he tapped the contact and nearly had a heart attack.

^._.^ YURI ^._.^

Yuri had added his number to Otabek’s phone.

Starting a new text faster than his brain could catch up, Otabek pounded out a message and hit send before he could tell himself how stupid an idea it was.

>I miss you.

Yuri: 

“Shithead,” Yuri muttered to himself as he rounded the corner, eyes shooting daggers at a housekeeper who stared at him as he passed, the woman averting her eyes sheepishly. He ducked into the nearest bathroom, closing a stall door behind him as he attempted to tug on his pants. It was somehow even more difficult in his anger, and he huffed indignantly, finally managing to push them up to his hips.

He felt like shit. Though he was still mad, he knew he’d hurt Otabek. In the short time that Yuri had known him, he’d learned that the musician didn’t tend to hide his emotions very well.

But this. This was exactly what he’d been talking about when he’d told Otabek that people didn’t tend to stick around for his personality. He was a hothead, and he knew it. At least he had ended whatever this was before he was forced to confront the feelings he’d begun to harbor for the other man.

Yuri sighed deeply, his pulse finally starting to slow as he calmed down. He needed to get out of here and just go home.

Exiting the bathroom stall, Yuri grimaced as he caught sight of his face in the mirror. He tossed some water onto his face, scrubbing at porcelain skin briefly before he was leaving the bathroom and heading out of the hotel.

He was thankful Otabek hadn’t followed him, not knowing what he would have done if he had. Hailing a taxi, Yuri set off for home, hoping to put the entire last 24 hours behind him. He wasn’t even ready to think about the fact that the musician would be playing a show at his arena in a few short days. Otabek should be easy enough to avoid, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward.

Unfortunately, fate was not on his side this morning, his phone buzzing in his pocket. Yuri fished it out, briefly confused when he saw the unknown number flash across his screen, but he rolled his eyes to himself, remembering how he had typed his number in Otabek’s phone last night without the man’s knowledge. That was dumb.

He hesitated only briefly before he was deleting the text. Whatever he and Otabek might have had last night, it was over. Yuri needed to give it up and move on.

[askbloatedbellyblog]

Winner’s Regret

Yuri let out a wet belch that no one seemed to react to as he rubbed his bloated stomach. It was several days past the Grand Prix Final and all the pomp and circumstance had finally calmed down. The formal parties had settled down (along with his rival Yuuri Katsuki getting too drunk again, though this time Victor had joined in while they stared longingly into each other’s eyes making Yuri Plisetsky groan) and now the figure skaters and their friends were now having a more casual and intimate party with their friends and family. It was at this party that the blonde had eaten himself into feeling like a bloated tick.

Yuri always had had an appetite that he very seldom got to indulge in but since the season was over, he thought he could indulge. Despite the weather, the food was BBQ style with a mix of Russian, American, and other regional foods that came together like an amazing potluck that had called to him. He had made a pig of himself, determined to try all that he could from every country and egging on his friend Otabek to join him on eating “his way around the world.” With some reluctance, Otabek had agreed though he wasn’t close to the fervor and capacity that Yuri was.

The night had progressed nicely enough with everyone making small talk with the other skaters, Yuri putting JJ in his place when he had suggested that the teen couldn’t eat a whole casserole dish of poutine, Yuuri cautioning Yuri that he shouldn’t eat so much which made the Russian refill his plate again just to spite him, and Victor applauding his appetite and spirit of celebration. Yuri had kept eating while making small talk and enjoying his time with Otabek, though it was only now he realized that it was seeming like Otabek kept refilling his plate for him whenever he finished one or came back with an extra plate for Yurio whenever he went to get something for himself.

Yuri winced a bit as a cramp hit him, making him even more grouchy. He should have known better. He muttered under his breath, “Freaking Otabek is a feeder…” then let out another loud belch in relief. He grabbed a glass of water, sipping it to try to settle his stomach. He knew he shouldn’t have eaten so much but he understood now what really had gotten him to his current state.

When the party was starting to wind down, there was still plenty of food around that hadn’t been touched, thanks to everyone but Yuri mingling while he did the munching. That’s when he started to hear the complaints. “I wasn’t planning on bringing home leftovers!” “Can you just keep it?” “But there’s so much! I don’t think there’s enough room in the refrigerator,” the other figure skaters and their friends started to whisper to each other. Yuri bit his lip. He thought for a moment. “Should I? I mean…I’m full but I could help. Right?” He tossed his head back and forth gently as he tried to wrestle with himself. Then finally he spoke up. “Otabek, let’s help out with the leftovers,” Yuri said to his friend while he grabbed a platter of bratwurst that had yet to be eaten and brought it to his lap.

Otabek silently nodded and returned with another bowl of half eaten salad. Only now did it make sense that Otabek didn’t eat it himself, instead waiting for Yuri to finish his bites of sausage and then feeding him forkfuls of salad. Little by little, Yuri made his way through the rest of the food while everyone else had decided to play a board game or share funny stories with each other.

Yuri focused on the task at hand, barely taking breaks between eating for himself and Otabek feeding him dish after dish. Soon the empty plates and platters started to stack up as Yuri made a dent in the amount of food left. He would alternate between hiccups, quiet soft belches between bites of food, and large wet belches as he tried to make room for stuffing his face more.

He was grateful that he was wearing casual clothes; tight fitting sweat pants that accentuated his strong legs and powerful butt and a tank top that showed his muscle he had gained from his additional training. The only problem is now that they did little to hide his growing pot belly that was swelling out his middle. He was thankful that his diaphragm and abdominals were in as good as shape as they were since they allowed for his stomach to swell only slightly considering how much he’d packed away.

Struggling to breath a bit as Otabek was busy feeding the remains of a tray of brownies, he leaned back and let his hands run over the hard, bloated surface. “Ugh…This was such a bad idea…*URRRPPPP*” It was then that Chris came back from a trip to the store. “Hey everyone, I made a quick trip to the store and got some to go boxes so we can take all the leftover food to our hotels!”

It took a moment in his food fueled haze to quite comprehend what Chris had said before the blood started to boil in his veins. He got up with a start shouting to everyone, “Wait, you’re telling me I ate all the leftovers for NOTHING?!” He pulled up his tank top to reveal his distended abdomen, swollen and tight from his chest to his crotch, for all at the party to see.

The were several gasps of surprise when they saw just how big he had gotten, unaware of Yuri’s goal of getting rid of the leftovers. Otabek gave Yuri a reassuring thumbs up. JJ came up and examined the belly shouting “Looks like you know how to eat JJ Style!” then throwing up his usual pose in front of the belly. Piichit gasped and grabbed his phone and selfie stick, taking a selfie with Yuri and his exposed belly. Last but not least, Chris came over and rubbed his hand over the hard surface causing Yuri to belch loudly in his face. At first Yuri was proud of his disrespect until Chris whispered “I think I’m going to cum…” to which the entire party gave him a disgusted look.

Recoiling, Yuri went back to his chair and picked up a large turkey leg and started to chomp away at it. He burped loudly again and thumped his belly hard to try to command it to continue. Everyone looked him like they were looking a man impregnated by aliens instead of a teenager with a very large food baby. “What!? I’ve come this far, I might as well finish what I started!” he shouted before he took a bite of ice cream that Otabek was now offering him. It was going to be a very long and torturous night. One filled with a very large stomachache for Yuri Plisetsky.

[zwiezraczek]

Otayuri Harry Potter AU (2)

Next paaart ~ - oh just one thing, Yuri has long hair which he loves to curl everytime he's cheerleading his team -or when he goes seeing a Hufflepuff's match- - secretly, Otabek is in love with his hair, and everytime he sees his hair he's having a heart attack -and JJ must deal with it, to say him to close his mouth or something- - Yuri's cheerleader outfit: a tank top with an "S" and a snake on it, shorts, black fishnet stockings; and obviously he wears green eyeshadow, some highlighter -and everybody dies- - Yuri's school "godmother" is Mila, Slytherin too; she's like a mom to him, and is on the same year that Otabek - she knows EVERYTHING about EVERYONE, and Yuri too - she knows how Yuri is kind of "obssessed" with Otabek, and she jokes about that often but at the same time she thinks it's cute - so, this one time Yuri comes to see the Hufflepuff's Quidditch team training as Otabek asked, a little bit nervous because "What the hell Plisetsky is doing here?" - Otabek was litterally DYING before the training, and JJ had to calm him down like "Ok, he's a Plisetsky. He could be like a fucking damn bad guy hired by you-know-who to kill you" and Otabek fainted on purpose "Lol just kidding Otabek, wake up" - when he sees Yuri coming he waves to him and he's so damn happy that he came because he could found reasons to avoid coming here - to be hontest, Yuri hadn't a fucking clue about Quidditch and came just to see Otabek, he waves back, putting his hair behind his ear - Otabek.exe. has stopped working

[basedtees]

Yuri “X” replica tank top as shown in anime! Fantastic for gifts and for cosplays.

https://basedtees.com/listing/524036135/yuri-x-tank-top

[ao3feed-victuuri]

Eternal Tango

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2xLwmDS

by counterheist

Of course, Yuri hasn’t been crowned King of anything yet. There are still holdouts, Viktor has been given to understand. Civilians partial to democracy. Ex-Alliance military veterans who fought for the ESUN and won’t see it die so quickly. And there’s still Yuuri, precious Yuuri, somewhere out there in space in his loose tank tops and his painted-on shorts. When he arrives to sweep Viktor into his Gundam, but more importantly into his arms, Viktor will demand he explain why he’s so late and also why they aren’t married yet.

Viktor’s held up his end of their tacit agreement.

Viktor’s kept it tight.

  (A Gundam Wing Endless Waltz AU)

Words: 8322, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri, Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont, Ji Guang-Hong, Cao Bin, Lee Seung Gil, Nikolai Plisetsky, Lilia Baranovskaya, Georgi Popovich, Mila Babicheva

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gundam, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Nikolai Plisetsky Character Assassination Sorry Grandpa, Angst with a Happy Ending, Stalking, Thirsty Victor Nikiforov, Pining, Humor I Swear, Dogs

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2xLwmDS

[kingfisherunion]

Firsts

Chapter 4

Read on Ao3

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Relationships:

Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov

Characters:

Katsuki Yuuri

Yuri Plisetsky

Victor Nikiforov

Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice)

Katsuki Mari

Yakov Feltsman

Phichit Chulanont

Christophe Giacometti

Katsuki Toshiya

Katsuki Hiroko

Additional Tags:

Fluff

Domestic Fluff

Domestic

5+1 Things

nonbinary Yuuri

Nonbinary Character

Established Relationship

sex mentioned/implied

Marriage

Weddings

Romance

Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

POV Multiple

depersonification

Depression

Character's Name Spelled as Viktor

Long-Haired Katsuki Yuuri

Language: English

Yuuri shook their head and sat curled up sideways in the passenger’s seat, staring and puzzling at their husband with a strange mixture of awe and betrayal and utter fanboy-ism swirling in their stomach. Not once in their six years together – not even before then when they had scoured magazines and message boards, soaking up every bit of information they could about him – had Yuuri considered that Viktor could, had needed to, or ever wanted to... 

(It doesn't have anything to do with the story but I just wanted y'all to know that Yuuri has their hair in two french braids in this chapter, a hairstyle Viktor taught them from his youth that he was strictly forbidden from wearing in public. It's their favorite summer hairstyle and even features in one or two of their programs through the years, although they prefer to let it fly free like their husband did.)

It was their four-year anniversary, and still Viktor was full of surprises.  It was all Yuuri could think as they stepped out of the Colorado hotel, letting the air of the warm summer morning wash over them and gulping it down in long, thirsty breaths.  The musk of pollen and pine sap mixed with the hazy morning mist was heavy and sticky and sweet.  It reeked of laziness, made them almost want to kick back with a long book and a cold drink and pass the day idly.  Almost.

Almost, because under any other circumstances that’s all Yuuri would want.  Almost, because still Viktor was full of surprises, and there, outside the hotel, he stood in front of a rental Subaru Forester packed with all their things.  Pink traces of yesterday’s sun kissed his nose and his cheeks and his shoulders, making him look somehow much younger than thirty-three, much more like the sweet, demure Viktor they had admired in their adolescence.  On his face he wore the widest grin Yuuri had ever seen.

They must have looked confused, because after a moment’s assessment Viktor bounced over and cupped their face in his hands, lifting it to meet his in a gentle kiss.  Yuuri could feel him practically buzzing with quiet excitement, the kind that tries not to oversell, reserved for gift-giving and surprise parties.

“Where…?” Yuuri started, but Viktor kissed them again.  He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on theirs and letting his hands fall just a little to brush his thumbs back along their cheeks.

“I told you we were going to the mountains, right?”  Yuuri nodded, staring up into eyes so familiar now that they were amazed they could still get lost within them.  “Yuuri, I know you’re going to tell me I went overboard, and I don’t care, but I can’t tell you how truly sick I am of hotels, and I can tell you are too.” Yuuri hummed their agreement, staring shamelessly.  “I told you we were going to the mountains for our anniversary getaway but this isn’t really the mountains and it isn’t really a getaway so I… kind of… changed the itinerary a bit.”  Yuuri raised a knowing eyebrow.  “…A lot.  Are… you mad?”  Yuuri laughed nervously.

“My love, why would I be mad?” They asked, allowing themself to be led out of the doorway and down to the vehicle, until one of the possibilities racing through their head made them freeze.  “Unless we’re going camping.  Viktor…” They squeezed his arm.  “Please tell me we’re not going camping.  I don’t think I could ever…”

Viktor’s reassuring smile was confident enough to tell them they weren’t.  But even then, the reassurance left so many possibilities for change.  They had both agreed on a quiet, relaxed vacation – one without fancy nights out or long days of sightseeing or showtimes to remember not to miss.  The only reservations they’d made had been this hotel, for the week.  Yuuri hadn’t packed adequately for anything other than a week of solitude with their husband – nothing they’d want to be seen in, certainly.  If the plans were changing…

Viktor sensed Yuuri’s worry and moved his hand up to intercept their grip on his forearm, lacing their fingers with his own.

“Yuuri,” he soothed, “I would never throw you into something new unprepared.  The plans haven’t changed.  Just the location.  I adjusted our stay with the hotel, everything is accounted for – it’ll just take a little bit of travel to get there.  I promise it won’t disappoint.  Okay?”  He brought their interlaced hands to his lips and brushed a kiss against Yuuri’s knuckles, and the look in his eyes was one that they had seen countless times before – that sweet, imploring stare which begged them to trust him, promising that he would take care of them.  It was the look that had been in his eyes the very first time they’d spoken, that fateful day he’d turned up in Hasetsu to be Yuuri’s coach.  It had been there in Barcelona, when he'd asked them to skate in the way that made them happiest.  It had been there in his wedding vows.  It warmed them to the core and they felt the tension in the back of their neck soften.

“Okay,” they said with a reserved smile.  “It’d better be good, Nikiforov.  I was really looking forward to an afternoon by the pool.”  They moved to open the door to the backseat but Viktor blocked their way, instead opening the front passenger seat and gesturing to it expectantly.

“Don’t you want to sit up front with me?” he asked.

They’d been in the car with Viktor before.

Obviously.

In some cities it was just necessary; Yuuri had been so accustomed to taking public transportation in Hasetsu and even in Detroit, but ever since they’d moved to St. Petersburg they hadn’t had to bother.  Viktor had always had a car waiting whenever either of them had to venture any farther than their home rink 4 blocks away.

Just a few days ago the couple had finished up the last of their work before vacation in the back of Viktor’s favorite ride – the champagne-colored town car with tan leather seats – on their way to lunch with a prospective sponsor for Minami-kun.  They’d chatted idly, coffees and phones in hand, perched on their respective sides of the bench seat.  Yuuri had brushed their ankle gently against Viktor’s between them, a soothing sort of habit they’d picked up from years of balancing their public, professional lives with their marriage.  They knew if they were to stop, Viktor would pick right up with the little touches, little reassurances that he was still there, underneath the coach and manager.

It hadn’t been remarkable – not even memorable.  After a while it had become as routine as the day-long flights and room service dinners and press conferences.  It was the same as any other time the pair had needed transportation to a press conference or photoshoot.

They’d been in the car with Viktor before, but Yuuri realized as they climbed into the passenger seat that they’d never been alone in the car with Viktor once in their life.  And as Viktor fastened himself into his own seat they realized even further…

“No driver?” they blurted.  Viktor laughed.

“Yes, driver, Yuuri, I’m right here,” he teased.  The seatbelt rumpled his tank top against his chest and he took a moment to straighten out before gesturing to the console in between them.  “I got you a coffee, just like always, золотце мой, and I hid some snacks inside the armrest… but don’t feel like we can’t make stops!  It’s five hours so hopefully somewhere we can find lunch along the way.”

Yuuri shook their head and sat curled up sideways in the passenger’s seat, staring and puzzling at their husband with a strange mixture of awe and betrayal and utter fanboy-ism swirling in their stomach. Not once in their six years together – not even before then when they had scoured magazines and message boards, soaking up every bit of information they could about him – had Yuuri considered that Viktor could, had needed to, or ever wanted to drive a car.  They’d never seen him drive; there had always been someone to do it for them. To Yuuri, “in the car with Viktor” meant lounging together in the backseat of taxis and limousines, not... They didn’t know how this fact about their husband had slipped past them, or the fact that sometime in the past year he’d obtained an international driver’s permit.  They babbled this at him over an over again in between sips of their coffee as they watched him go through the mundane motions of starting up the vehicle.

It shouldn’t have been remarkable, the way his bicep flexed ever so slightly as he turned the key in the ignition, or the way he maneuvered between the wheel and the gear shift and his coffee without ever letting his eyes leave the road.  Yuuri shouldn’t have been marveling at Viktor’s casual positioning in his seat, or the calculated movements of his eyes as he navigated between road and GPS.  Shouldn’t, but was.

“I learned in my twenties, not too, too long before Sochi,” Viktor said, scooting his hips forward and leaning back into the headrest. “Something for me before I really knew what it was I wanted.”  His eyes scanned the road in front of them, sparkling with reminiscence.  “Yakov was livid.  Everything I ever did was some sort of grand rebellious gesture to him.  I was depressed and isolated and going through some serious de-personification… I felt like maybe I didn’t exist off the ice.  Driving, just for fun, was something I did to ground myself.  To feel… real.”

He smiled, almost sadly, and Yuuri felt a swell of emotion catch in their throat at the sight.  They knew about Viktor’s quiet, private struggles from the peak of his career.  They knew that sometime just before they danced together that he’d lost all sight of his life and love.  But now they knew why Viktor driving was so beautiful.  It was the same reason Viktor in the bath was beautiful, or Viktor eating katsudon, or Viktor underneath them, head thrust back in ecstasy.  There, in the driver’s seat, Yuuri saw Viktor practicing self-compassion, allowing himself to live.  It was the closest thing they’d seen to the Viktor who’d met them in the onsen that April morning, determined to chase the happiness he’d found at the Sochi banquet.

Yuuri knew they’d talked on the ride, but about what they couldn’t remember.  They reclined their seat and drifted off to sleep, overcome by the hot sun beating down on them through the window.  When they woke, gradually and comfortably, they indulged in watching Viktor, calm and at work, listening to a podcast and muttering occasionally as he tried to decipher the next step in his directions.  The promise in his eyes rang true, and Yuuri felt safe and excited and ready for the adventure that awaited at the end of the road.

When he noticed his spouse was awake, Viktor grinned and offered his hand.  Yuuri took it and Viktor settled into that position, one hand steadying the wheel and the other resting with Yuuri’s in his lap, rubbing little circles into their palm.

“There should be a stop at the next exit,” he said.  “If we stop there and keep it quick, we should be at the cabin before 3.  Yuuri?”

Yuuri made a little noise of acknowledgment and pressed a little kiss into the back of his hand in response.

“Happy anniversary, красавец мой.  I love you.”

[velvetandstone-blog1]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky Characters: Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov Additional Tags: Age Difference, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, cursing, Domestic Fluff, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, more like emotional stress/comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food, Hair Washing, Haircuts, Light Dom/sub, Massage, Post-Canon, Yuri is 16, deal with that as you will, more tags to come with chapter 2, explicit stuff will be in chapter 2 Summary:

"I know you probably just showered after class," Viktor said, voice low, "but we’ll just get your head wet again to help with the cut."

"Okay," Yuri shrugged, desperate to show that he didn’t care. He’d be fucked if he couldn’t keep it together for one goddamn haircut, and he was Yuri Plisetsky dammit he could keep it together in any situation. Standing in only his sweatpants, boots, and tank top, Yuri let Viktor maneuver him to lean over the kitchen sink. The hand that had been resting on his back traced quickly up his neck, across his scalp, and helped turn the mass of Yuri’s hair over his head as the younger man suppressed a full-body shiver. He was definitely, definitely fucked.