Day Three of @tentacleyuuriweek, BDSM
this hardly counts as BDSM, im sorry, but still
Аноним asked:
Never in my life i related to Dracula so much. Thank you!
I know this is just a sketch but i wanted to get at least something for today.
Day Two: Overstimulation / Inkplay
yuuris-piano asked:
Thank you, Yuuri, i needed that <3 <3 <3
Because I’ve read enough fics to cringe when the figure skater throws their very expensive skates in their bag and run off somewhere because nobody ever treats their skates like that.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
//Having competed myself- all of this is true. I bruised my tailbone because of tripping on a toe pick and I have stabbed myself and my boots multiple times (actually the appearance of my boots makes me wanna cry they were so pretty oh boots what have I done to you). Can verify: not fun. Also I wanna see everyone in YOI’s soakers- they’re either completely utilitarian, kinda cute, or COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS I once had a black furry pair with tye dye on the absorbent part and big rhinestone flowers on the outside. They were hideous <3
FOR MY SAD ANON: a snippet of a high fantasy au with wandmaster yuuri and royal sorcerer viktor, which when i one day get around to writing it will be a collab with @artofmarylarson !!!
The week after Lord Nikiforov’s first visit to his shop, Yuuri puts a
little chime above his door, one that lets out a melodious tinkling of bells
that sounds a little like silver rainfall on the pebbles by a stream, and hopes
that it’ll mean he won’t be caught unawares again. That was so embarrassing, stammering his way through a conversation with Lord Nikiforov of all people, the King’s
very own Head of Sorcery! He never wants
to think about that again. What a mess he was.
He goes through his daily routine to keep his mind off it, just as he has every day for the past week, and reminds himself to breathe. He makes breakfast and feeds Vicchan, sings to the flowers in the side hall so that they can eventually turn into charms, and takes a break with some honeyed tea so he doesn’t strain his throat. Then he dances for a while, laughing as he twines magic around his fingers and spins it into an imaginary partner, composed of wind and leaves that twirl about as he whirls and skips his way around the room, and Vicchan yips happily and chases his feet.
He’s watering the potion-herbs in the front room when his chime twinkles merrily, and he looks up, a polite Hello, how may I help you on his lips, only to find—
Lord Nikiforov.
The words die in his throat.
Done for @tentacleyuuriweek
Day One: Possessiveness