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#how to write kissing
youneedsomeprompts · 2 years
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How to write a kiss scene
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requested by: anon request: How do I write a good kiss scene? As how do I describe it? What details or words would make it good?
What goes into the writing of a kiss scene?
details to incorporate:
the sensations in their stomach, their chest, and their knees
the way their breathing changes shortly before the kiss
the feeling of the other's hands
the texture of the other's clothing
the moment they realise they've reached the point of no return
the feeling they're left with after the kiss
words to use...
... to describe the kiss:
tentative
tender
hesitant
quick
soft
gentle
delicate
languid
feathery
familiar
exploring
hungry
heated
fiery
frantic
impatient
sloppy
messy
aggressive
... to describe how they feel about the kiss:
nervous
excited
giddy
anxious
apprehensive
ambiguous
surprised
reassured
certain
confident
relieved
eager
greedy
... to show what the lips do:
exploring each other
brushing over each other
locking
devouring
touching
sealing
pressing against each other
capturing
lapping
tasting
crushing together
travelling (the other's body)
trailing (down to the other's chin)
grinning into the kiss
caressing
lingering
... to show how their body reacts:
feeling warm all over
buzzing
humming
pumping/palpitating heart
clenching lungs
joy bubbling up
tingly stomach
warm chest
burning cheeks
sweaty palms
blood rushing through their veins
... to describe what their hands are doing:
tangling in their lover's hair
wrapping their arms around their lover's neck
intertwining their fingers with their lover
resting on their lover's hips
pressing into their lover's shoulder blades
cupping their lover's cheeks
touching their lover's chin
curling their arm around their lover's waist
resting on their lover's shoulders
grabbing their lover's collar
sneaking up under their lover's shirt
brushing over their lover's bare skin
lightly squeezing their lover's butt
focus on:
the sensations instead of what's physically happening. (the protagonists might very well not know themselves what is happening exactly, but they feel very precisely)
I hope this helps <3
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inkskinned · 9 months
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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urfriendlywriter · 6 months
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How to write smut ?
(@urfriendlywriter | req by @rbsstuff @yourlocalmerchgirl anyone under the appropriate age, please proceed with caution :') hope this helps guys! )
writing smut depends on each person's writing style but i think there's something so gut-wrenchingly beautiful about smut when it's not very graphic and vivid. like., would this turn on a reader more?
"he kissed her, pulling her body closer to him."
or this?
"His lips felt so familiar it hurt her heart. His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed. She let herself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against her spine. He drew her closer."
One may like either the top or the bottom one better, but it totally depends on your writing to make it work. Neither is bad, but the second example is more flattering, talking literally.
express one's sensory feelings, and the readers will automatically know what's happening.
writing, "her walls clenched against him, her breath hitching with his every thrust" is better than writing, "she was about to cum".
here are some vocabulary you can introduce in your writing:
whimpered, whispered, breathed lightly, stuttered, groaned, grunted, yearned, whined, ached, clenched, coaxed, cried out, heaved, hissed
shivering, shuddering, curling up against one's body, squirming, squirting, touching, teasing, taunting, guiding, kneeling, begging, pining, pinching, grinding,
swallowing, panting, sucking in a sharp breath, thrusting, moving gently, gripped, biting, quivering,
nibbling, tugging, pressing, licking, flicking, sucking, panting, gritting, exhaling in short breaths,
wet kisses, brushing soft kisses across their body (yk where), licking, sucking, teasing, tracing, tickling, bucking hips, forcing one on their knees
holding hips, guiding the one on top, moving aimlessly, mindlessly, sounds they make turn insanely beautiful, sinful to listen to
some adjectives to use: desperately, hurriedly, knowingly, teasingly, tauntingly, aimlessly, shamelessly, breathlessly, passionately, delicately, hungrily
he sighed with pleasure
her skin flushed
he shuddered when her body moved against his
he planted kisses along her jawline
her lips turned red, messy, kissed and flushed.
his hands were on his hair, pulling him.
light touches traveled down his back
words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more
he arched his back, his breath quivering
her legs parted, sinking into the other's body, encircling around their waist.
+ mention the position, how they're being moved around---are they face down, kneeling, or standing, or on top or on bottom--it's really helpful to give a clear picture.
+ use lustful talk, slow seduction, teasing touches, erratic breathing, give the readers all while also giving them nothing. make them yearn but DO NOT PROLONG IT.
sources to refer to for more: (will be updated soon!)
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ao3-crack · 7 months
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katabay · 3 months
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ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...
the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin
this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.
you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.
also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.
⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!
⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app
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luxaofhesperides · 29 days
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Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.
He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.
....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.
The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.
Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen. 
He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart. 
One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment. 
They’ll never get to meet. 
Duke had never felt so alone before. 
He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours. 
But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again. 
So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.
No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.
Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.
And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…
Did it… grow? 
Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart. 
But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage. 
Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.
Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer. 
“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better. 
Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets. 
He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret. 
The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes. 
And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it. 
The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe. 
There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.
Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.
“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.
As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal. 
He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts. 
As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more. 
Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning. 
He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.
At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago. 
Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden. 
He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin. 
“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”
“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”
“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.
“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”
Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”
“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”
“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands. 
“Meet me out front in an hour then.” 
And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.
At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.
Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick. 
The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them. 
He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit. 
It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin. 
They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.
For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful. 
He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience. 
He should have known that normal means boring as hell.
As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.
Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was. 
Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails? 
Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.
Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him. 
Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot. 
No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.
Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.
They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him. 
Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.
In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.
Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.
“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”
“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.
“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”
“I think I need to sit down?”
He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.
“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”
“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”
“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”
His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”
What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?
“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”
“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”
“Dude.”
Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”
Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.
“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”
“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”
“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”
“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”
Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”
“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants. 
“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder. 
“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m guessing you like space?”
“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”
“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”
Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression. 
“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”
“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke. 
The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark. 
“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees. 
“Man, what a day.” 
Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.
“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.
“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”
“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”
“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”
“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”
“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”
Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”
“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”
He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!
Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny. 
Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen. 
And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.
He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark. 
Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.
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the-witchhunter · 7 months
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DP x DC: Puppy Love
Waiting for my friend in the emergency room(they’re fine, we’ll not fine obviously but not actively dying) so might as well write on my phone
So if there are two things I’m adamant about it’s that Alfred should still be alive and that DC SHOULD GIVE JASON BACK HIS DOG
For those poor souls that do not know, Jason had a dog name, and this is 100% true, Dog. Jason is canonically bad at naming things so he named his dog Dog. And the storyline between him and her is actually really touching. He rescued her from a dog fighting ring where she was used to bait dogs. Jason earned her trust showed her kindness and she loves him for it and it makes me emotional. GIVE JASON BACK HIS DOG YOU MONSTERS
She’s not dead just got written out by giving her to someone, but still, that man loves and pampers Dog, gave her an engraved nameplate and everything
But consider Cujo, the ghost of a dog being trained to be a guard dog, put to death long before his time wanting the thing that made him happy in life: his toy. Danny finds him, bonds with him and helps him get back the thing he loves most, and Cujo loves Danny for it.
A story as old as time, a boy and his dog, or in Danny’s case a boy and his ghost dog.
So imagine this: Danny moved to Gotham with Cujo and things are going great, except for one thing.
Cujo has a little crush
Now normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but Cujo is a ghost. Aka he can walk through walls. So when Cujo wants to visit his lady friend, he just bolts right through the wall, and leads Danny on a merry chase.
Meanwhile Jason is confused to come home to his penthouse only to find Dog cuddled up with a smaller green dog that isn’t Beast Boy. The other dog is friendly and gets along with Dog, but it’s driving him crazy wondering how he got in without tripping an alarm. Then there’s a knock on the door
Jason opens the door to find an out of breath guy about his age with black hair, blue eyes and windswept hair that might have been intentional if it hadn’t been for a few leaves stuck in it.
And that’s how Jason met Danny
Cut to this happening a few more times and then turns into organizing little “dates” for their dogs and the while falling slowly in love with each other romcom style
That’s right, this has been a romcom about two dog owners falling in love because their dogs are literally obsessed with each other
Bonus: Danny giving Cujo “the Talk”
Danny, wagging his finger: Don’t make a rosemary’s baby, understand?
Cujo: Bark
Danny: ... good.
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willowser · 1 month
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HMMMMMM interesting to think about arranged marriage with prince shouto...............
i think he wouldn't know. what to expect with you. i think he'd have an idea, as in, what his father, the king, has taught him; the duties of a wife, where your importance ranks in relation to his duties. what he's not meant to discuss with you, like politics and matters at court and foreign relations. how you will speak to him. what to buy in the event that you become...unhappy. a nuisance.
("and she will," enji had muttered, briefly glancing up from the parchment on his desk to fix shouto with a look he didn't understand. "they always do.")
you don't meet until the royal wedding, when you're coming down the long aisle of the grand cathedral, dressed up in a swathe of silk and lace. a thin, gossamer veil hides you from him, but he can feel the ardor in your eyes, the intensity burning through the material. it doesn't seem real until your bare face is only a breath from his own, until he has to see the earnestness in your stare, too.
your kiss is simple and chaste, nothing spectacular, something that leaves his mind as soon as it's over. ever a todoroki, a hundred other things enter his mind, all regarding his now iron-laid obligations: it's vital he meet with advisor keigo to reiterate the plan to establish his authority among the council; general aizawa is in attendance to the wedding, and shouto has not yet received word on his opinion of the new king's ideas to modernize their armed forces; midoriya is somewhere, no doubt wanting to go over state affairs again.
truthfully, shouto doesn't spend long "celebrating". there's already too much that's required of him, hardly enough time to even scarf down a few bites of the banquet laid out before he's being chartered off into discussions on foreign relations and infrastructure development. maybe once or twice does he look back to check on you, chatting pleasantly with his mother and sister at the front of the great hall, and that's satisfying enough.
it's not until much later that he sees you again; freshly bathed and wearing something sheer and long and white, atop his bed.
or his marriage bed, he must remind himself.
enji didn't spend long going over consummation, with him or either of his brothers—natsuo, red-faced and annoyed at the very subject, always storming off, and touya had seemed well-aware of the process, at the time (back before he'd been ex-communicated). it had sounded simple: strip off your dress, get his cock out and into you, and only retreat once he was sure his seed had been spilled.
—so he's not exactly sure what to do or think or how to feel, when you're laid bare and reaching up to hold his face.
it's so startling that he sits back on his knees, to frown where he's looming over you.
you stare at him quietly, like you're expecting him to say something, and he only has a moment to wonder if this is you becoming an unhappy nuisance—what had been the answer, to solve this, anyway?—before you let out a soft laugh.
"c'mere," you tell him, sitting up, too, when he keeps his distance. "i want you to kiss me."
"i already have."
"yes," you laugh again, amusement glowing in your eyes, like the warmth off the fireplace, as you reach for the ties on his trousers. "but you're meant to do it again."
and up until then, he'd felt confident in his achievements, his executions; he'd managed a lot today, in one evening, and he had a lifetime to manage more. it was a good a start as any, he'd thought, but now—
shouto almost can't get the words out when he feels your hands ghosting up the inside of his shirt, nails tickling over his ribs. "a-am i?"
you wrap your arms around his waist in what could be a hug, scooting forward to look up at him with your chin against his chest. "yes," you smile and—it's familiar in a way, how touya would whenever he was teasing. "you're my husband, you're meant to kiss me whenever i want."
that—was not something his father had ever said, he was sure, and it was a too-rare exchange between his own parents. now that he thinks about it—and he does, then, because he's faced with the reality that he doesn't know as much as he should—he's not sure the former king and queen even sleep in the same room, much less the same bed.
much less hug and touch and even smile, the way you do now.
there's no argument he can make against it, aside from finding keigo to find his father to verify the truth to such a statement, and he's only meant to retreat from this bed on one condition.
and if this is what it takes to meet that—then shouto supposes he'll have to do it, for now. he's a brand new king, after all, and it would seem he still has much to learn.
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pherredraws · 2 months
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from the homumiko mines
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theloveinc · 9 months
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I also like the idea of Bakugo coming home from a long, overseas mission only for you to be surprised when you meet him at the airport cuz he’s twice as beefy and four times more scary looking.
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youneedsomeprompts · 10 months
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Hello!
I am having trouble writing a romance/kiss scene in for my fic
Any advice or tips that I can use
I made this post about "how to write a kiss scene" a while ago. I think it should cover your question.
Hope this helps! <3
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calumfmu · 2 months
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spread thin
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Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades-long relationship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.
cw: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie
2.9k+ words
The boy in front of you was beautiful. He was everything that you had pictured in a man, yet nothing of the sort that you imagined yourself to be with. He was handsome, charismatic, funny-- every good thing that could come with a boy.
But he wasn't yours.
Steve was everything and everyones before the label of yours could be applied.
"yn?"
His voice sounded throughout the fluorescent room, it's white walls allowing you to be caught in the midst of your thoughts. You met his eyes, his dark brown searching for clarification in the color of your own.
"Sorry, just..." your hands tightened around the broom, glancing down at the foot of tile you hadn't realized you were sweeping repeatedly for the last ten minutes. "A lot on my mind, graduation and all."
He stood there for a second, nodding as his hands graced the cash register in front of him. He had a hint of something on his face, something you couldn't recognize from his normal expressions. He suddenly shrugged, shaking his head to himself as he paid attention to the machine.
"Well... I'm just about done here," he supplied before closing the drawer. "Whenever you're done, I was thinking that we could head to mine? Movie night, drinks?"
You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was normal between the two of you. You have been best friends since kindergarten, it was always SteveandYn and YnandSteve.
He smiled back at you, walking around the corner.
"Well, let's get out of here, then." He took the broom from your hands, placing it in its respective supply closet. "I found a copy of that new horror movie on VHS, and you're going to love it."
As you two closed up shop, you made your way through the mall. His car was parked in the back of the lot, giving you ample time to think of what had been plaguing your mind lately. These feelings for Steve hadn't came out of nowhere, they had been building for the last couple of years as he became more popular. King Steve as they called him. You held back the eye roll of the remark, knowing that people didn't understand the true character of the man.
Calling him something like that only emphasized his woman-user ways, but did not touch on the sweetness he had to him. He was painted as a player, someone that did not care about women. Deep down, you knew that wasn't true.
His shoulder bumped into yours, shaking you of your thoughts. Steve opened the passenger door, holding his hand out as he did a faux bow.
"M'lady."
Giggling, you rolled your eyes and settled in the car as he made his way over to the driver's seat. As he got situated and started the vehicle, he glanced over at you.
"What's going on? You've been so... distant lately."
Sighing, you turned your head towards the window.
"'S nothing, Steve."
He pulled out into the main road, leaving the mall further and further into the distance. "You've been so weird, it can't be nothing."
"I'm fine." You smiled through your teeth, covering the true gnawing at your heart that plagues you. He spared a glance in your direction, huffing as he knew you were lying.
"Sure."
The rest of the car ride was quiet, only the sounds of the radio quietly buzzing some song in the background. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat as you focused on the drive in front of you, cars passing as he made his way to his house. With every block, the dim street lights hit your face, exposing more and more of the true emotional state that you were in. It was becoming too much to hide now.
You hadn't noticed as he pulled into his driveway, a dark house with no one home in front of it. Your passenger door suddenly opening startled you.
"Jesus, Steve," you mumbled, getting out as you smoothed down your work uniform. "Give a girl a warning, yeah?"
"Oh, quiet. 'S not like you would've heard it anyways," he had a grumpiness to his voice, something that only confused you even more. What was wrong with him?
You followed him through the front door, lights turning on as he made his way to the kitchen. A beer was placed in your hand, and you looked down to inspect it. The cheap kind, PBR. So it was going to be one of those nights.
Steve loosened the collar of his uniform, letting it hang open as he cracked open his own drink. He was still staring at you, as you leaned against the counter.
"You're really not going to tell me?" His brown eyes were huge at this point, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted in your direction. "Please, yn?"
You took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.
"'M just stressed about graduation," you answered, twirling your drink around as you focused on the exposed part of his chest. A tuft of hair poked out there, you imagined what it would feel like between your fingers.
"What about it?"
You broke the focus, walking closer to him so you could take a seat on the counter beside him. He turned his body towards you, forearms leaning on the white tile as he looked up into your eyes. This angle allowed you to see into the deep brown of his irises, the overhead light hitting in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. They were the same eyes you remember from childhood, his long lashes that framed them always so right.
You took another sip of the drink in your hand, thumb playing with the tab at the top of the aluminum. His hand reached out, touching the top of your thigh where your navy blue shorts ended.
Nervousness settled over you as his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin.
"Come on, you could tell me. Anything, remember?"
The look in his eyes and his begging was hard to resist. You had always told Steve your secrets, your worries, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to be.
You sighed, ready to let this burden off of your chest. Now or never, yn, what's the worst that could happen?
"I'm just worried about what's coming next," you said, finishing off your drink this time. The empty can hit the tile next to you, ringing throughout the kitchen. "Things changing, people growing, leaving."
His brow furrowed, confusion crossing hit features. He stood up, settling in closer to you. His eye level was right below yours this time. You could smell his cologne mixed in with the faint smell of ice cream. So enticing, yet you had to ignore it.
"Are you talking about us?" His hand left your thigh, moving to place his hands on either side of your waist. His waist sat in front of your crossed knees, body leaning slightly as he looked into your eyes. Heat settled into your core, your body reacting to the proximity of him between your legs. "You know, nothing's ever going to change between us. We've always been best friends, always will be."
And there it is. The pit of your stomach gnawing as that realization settled over you. Best friends.
A familiar sting hit your eyes as you began to blink it away. You thought you were being inconspicuous, but he noticed.
"Hey, hey, hey." His voice was a whisper now as he stepped closer, pushing your thighs apart. His hand reached up to touch the side of your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.
Concern was etched all over his features. He searched your eyes for an explanation, his calloused hands rubbing over the delicate skin of your face. He was so close now, you could lean in and kiss him. Feel the true pout of his lips against yours.
"...Steve," you muttered, shaking your head. "I was just hoping tha- you know, what, nevermind."
He was patient, waiting for your words to come out as the two of you sat in silence. Your mind was racing, thoughts of King Steve with a million other girls floating around. Why tell him when he can whoever? You've been friends for years, why would he want to hear this now when there has been years where something could have happened.
"Tell me."
You sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. It was easier to think with them shut, the beautiful boy in front of you no longer being a distraction.
"I was hoping things would stay the same between us," you blurted out. Your heart was racing, word vomit on the tip of your tongue. "Things would stay the same in college, but I know they won't because you're going to be focused on the next interesting person, the next beautiful girl who's not me and is so much better than me."
He didn't answer, but you felt his hand leave the side of your face. The pit at the bottom of your stomach growing more. You kept your eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.
You chose to continue, "I just hear everyone talking about King Steve this and King Steve that, and I just can't help but think about how much worse it will be once you're no longer forced to be friends with me."
Suddenly, you felt a mouth on yours, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours quickly. Your eyes flew open, staring at the boy in front of you.
Steve had a smile on his face, eyes drifting over your shocked face. Your mouth opened and close as you find yourself at a loss of words. You found the words, a single syllable escaping your lips before he shushed you.
His hand returned to his cheek as his lips found yours again, moving with a fever that was missing previously. He seemed more urgent, needy in this moment as his hands began to explore your body.
Before you knew it, your legs were opening wider, inviting his body even closer to your core. You felt drunk, despite the single drink running through your veins. It was intoxicating, feeling his mouth against yours and his fingers in your hair.
Is this real life? You couldn't help but think you were imagining it all.
Steve breaks the kiss, fingers dancing at the bottom of your shirt, threatening to lift the hem there.
"Can I-?" He began to lift it as you nodded vehemently, lifting your arms. It came off your frame, exposing you in your white bra. The cool air hit your body, quickly replaced with the heat of his body.
His lips finds your jaw, slopping making his way down your neck. Pants escape your mouth, your vision becoming blurred as his fingers find your waistline. His thumb dipped into the band of your pants, teasing to expose your edge of your panties.
"S-steve, please."
All you saw was a flash of his hair as you were pushed back slightly, the pants beginning to slip down your hips. You adjusted the way you were sitting, allowing Steve the ease to free you of the restriction. He leaned down slightly, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses to your chest bone, hands returning to their residence of your hips.
You placed a hand in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips. He smiled through the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even closer as you felt his bulge rub against your heat.
You muttered a fuck as he began to rub against you, cock hard against the restriction of his own pants.
"Want more, baby?" He whispered, hand coming up to grab at your breast, squeezing in all the right places. You threw your head back in ecstacy, hips shooting up to rub against him even further. Your hands found his own waistline, pulling as you struggled to get them off.
"Patience now, my love."
His sweet words made you ache even more, grinding your heat against the shape of his cock. The free hand remaining on your hip moved, brushing over the wet spot you were making in your panties. A small shout escaped you, nerves throbbing at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit over the thin cloth.
You looked at him, all his glory as he stared hungrily down at your panties. This thumb was brushing over your clit through your underwear, watching as the wet spot increased.
"Is it that, baby," he breathed, glancing up at your spent face. Nodding, you spread your legs further, mewling as his index finger dipped them to the side. He brushed over your fluttering hole, paying attention to the way you arched your back.
Eyes closing involuntarily, your breath hitched as you felt his two of his fingers playing at your entrance. Your thoughts jumbled, focusing only on the feeling of his digits slowly pushing in. You mewled, white heat crossing over your body as they pushed in further, beginning to slowly pumping in and out of you.
"Fuck Steve, m-more." You couldn't hold back anymore, your hand reached up to grab his at your breast. Blinking your eyes slowly, you stared into his hooded ones, watching as he removed himself from you. He fumbled at his waistline, pushing his pants low enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping with need.
You reached out to it, pulling him closer. Your lips met again, a desperate connection of the moment as his fingers rake through your hair. He tasted like spearmint and the remnants of his beer, breath heavy against yours as his cock rubbed against your center.
He pushed your white panties to the side, his cock in hand as it rubbed against your wet entrance. You couldn't get enough, arching your hips so you could feel him closer, hard and firm.
He guided himself within you, stretching you wide. You couldn't tell if it was him or you at this point, throbbing with desperation as your hips bucked wanting to feel him closer.
Steve stopped at the hilt, hips flush against yours as your legs locked behind his thighs.
"Good?" He asked, breath heavy at this point and words incoherent. He went back and forth between squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stare into yours. Your tightness throbbed around him, clouding his thoughts with the feeling of wanting to take you fast and rough.
"Yes, baby, more."
You pulled him even closer to you, the hook of your ankle rubbing against his pants bunched up at his thigh. Only now did you realize, he was still wearing his uniform, wrinkled and bunched up, exposing only his groin and the bottom of his stomach. The desperation of this moment fueling him to see you in your glory, wanting to have access to you as fast as possible. You watched as he reared his hips back only to push into you once more, slowly but feverish in their movement.
He began to roll his hips, urging moans and pants out of your mouth. He kisses them away, swallowing them as you become louder with each thrust of his hips. The pleasure fills your body, drawing you closer and closer towards that breaking point as his hips continue.
His hands are at your hips, fingers gripping your ass as you sit on the counter, sliding back and forth with each movement he makes. His nails leave little half moon marks as his knuckles grow white, fucking into you relentlessly.
Ah, fuck and yes, baby and you like that escapes his mouth, mouth agape as he watches you unfold in his grasp.
You're almost pissed off at him, at yourself, for not doing this sooner. But the thought escapes your mind, the feeling of euphoria dripping over you as he brushes over something deep inside you. Shock waves took over you as a white heat came over you, exploding and tingling throughout your spine.
Your mind was clouded as you rode through the shock waves, pulsing around him as he thrusted deeper, closer towards his own peak. A low, guttural noise escaped him as you felt him release deep inside. His chest heaves as he rides through it, burying his face into your shoulder. A bite mark was left in its place, the feeling of stickiness between your thighs as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a small moan.
He brushed over your slit one more time, over stimulation coursing through you with a small yelp.
Steve's face was buried into your shoulder, nipping and kissing at the bitten skin there as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. His skin was slightly damp from the high, his chest rising and falling against yours.
"Can I tell you something, yn?" His voice was in a whisper.
You nodded, losing all words. He chuckled, leaning his head back so he could look you in your eyes.
"I knew you felt that way," he supplied, coy smile on his face. Your eyes widened as you hit his chest, laugh erupting out of him. "I felt the same."
"Steve!"
"I was just waiting for you to make the first move. I can't be King Steve when I'm with you."
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urfriendlywriter · 1 year
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Kisses Prompts that sends the readers reeling:
(5th, and 7th onee!! omfg 12th one PLSPLS somebody write and tag mee!)
hesitant kisses, but when they part one whispers "do it again. please."
hands caressing your neck or tracing your jaw as they kiss you nuts
their lips on yours, hot, feverish, partly sucking, teasing with their tongue (OMG-)
heated kisses - their hands on your bare skin, yours in their soft hair, lips nibbling, biting, moaning into yours, while heavily breathing after.
"love, don't hide your face, don't.." hands gently removing yours from your flushed face. "you make me fluster." you say, but they kiss you through those words and mumble against your lips, "you fluster me more, sweetheart."
kisses trailing down your chin, leaving love bites on your neck, chest, and all the shyness in between > < feeling their hot, sloppy wet kisses all over ur body, everywhere and beneath your stomach, and above it. :')
"i don't know how to kiss but let me kiss you, and I'll do it just right." (on my damn knees ffr)
moving to gasp for air, but the other still leans in, eyes closed, lips parted, absolutely wanting more!!! a string of saliva connecting each other's lips!!
hugs after kisses, that lasts several heartbeats long, as they nuzzle their face in your crook. kissing there as well, shyly smiling into it. (fyi im single since birth and haven't experienced ANY OF THESE BEFORE.)
"kiss me again, but- mphh"
cupping your lover's cheek. staring into their eyes with a grin before the kiss, their hands curling around your neck, anticipating it.
"lay down, love and let me do you how you deserve it."
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crystalflygeo · 8 months
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Morning coffee? Morning tea... ft Neuvillette + fem!reader
cw/tags: this is just SUPER tender and vanilla sex ngl. Pet names (in french!!! <3) dirty talking if you squint?? itty bit of somno maybe? idk how to tag this y'all just smut with feelings.
notes: HI I DISAPPEARED AND COME BACK TO OFFER YOU NEUVILLETTE. I love him so much, I am down horrendous I love him I love him I love him AAAAAAAAAAAAA. The self control I had to practice not to make him speak full sentences in french lmao.
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The room is dark and silent as you shift on the bed, yawning. You blink drowsily and realize you were asleep, only dreaming of Neuvillette’s soft touch, the brush of his hair, his gentle kisses and nuzzling, reserved only for private settings. You roll over and rub at your face, but the bed is empty.
Hm? Where is your husband?
It is very rare for Neuvillette to leave like this, unannounced. He’d always give you a kiss, hushed whispers telling you he has some business to attend to before slipping out of the room. Sometimes he doesn’t want to wake you and leaves a note instead, but now as you look around, albeit half-asleep, there is nothing…
Did something happen? You frown.
His side of the bed is still warm though, his essence lingers in the room, on your skin. He was definitely here not too long ago. The familiar scent of his cologne teases your nose and you decide to burrow into his pillow to chase it, hugging the soft thing wishing it was him.
Today was a day off, there was no need to worry about work or other responsibilities. Though you suppose Fontaine’s Iudex’s responsibilities never end…
You sigh and cling tighter onto the pillow, closing your eyes and desperately trying to recapture the essence of that dreamy state, sliding deeper under the warm comforter and rolling onto your side in the middle of the bed, slipping into memories of the night prior.
Neuvillette’s deep voice, the delightful sparks of electricity as his hands roamed your body and that feeling of being so full, complete and sated as he slid deep inside you from behind.
Oh, how you love him. Always so reverent with his affections.
Somewhere between the reminiscence of a high pitched voice you barely recognize as your own moaning his name, and Neuvillette’s low tantalizing whispers as he urges you to come all over his cock, you barely register the soft click of the door.
The subconscious is a funny thing and part of you wonders how can he be there and in your little fantasy at the same time.
Deep in the middle of your struggle between here and there, there is a soft rustle of fabric, and then the sharp clink of porcelain coming from the bedside table, sounds that pull you back from the drowsiness.
“Hmmm… Neuv?”
The bed dips slightly with his weight, and a soft caress at your hair has you stirring a little. The covers sliding off your skin and Neuvillette’s appreciative groan upon seeing your naked figure spread out before him brings you almost alert.
You feel the warmth of him sliding into bed behind you, his hair tickling at your cheek and his breath at your shoulder as he nuzzles here, planting a soft kiss. Strong arms circling your waist as he pulls your closer, your hips slotting together.
And then you hear him, in that husky smooth voice you’ve come to crave. “Ma chérie.” He beckons, soft and low in your ear. “Ma belle…” Your name velvet on his lips. Large hands shifting your body, maneuvering until you lay on your back. “Mon amour.”
You let out a soft sound of acknowledgement and he chuckles.  
Eyes still closed you tilt your head towards his shoulder, seeking to curl up to his chest and cuddle, but instead you feel his weight shift on the bed again. You whine and a tiny speck inside your head is ready to cry out for him not to leave, but before you can form a coherent sentence you suddenly feel him on top of you, his larger frame caging you, long locks sliding off his back and firm hands taking hold of your thighs, coaxing them to part.
“Let me take care of you, ma chérie.” He’s persuasive with both his touch and his words, spreading your legs gently, one of his hands sliding towards a calf where he squeezes lightly, your body soft and pliant like moist clay under the hands of a sculptor. “You’re so gorgeous… show me…” He kisses a trail down your neck to your collarbone, your chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm as you squirm a little, ticklish and aroused.
“Neuv…” You moan, eyes still closed but senses fully aware of him and everything around you. The room feels hotter, your skin simmering everywhere he touches. Your sides, your hips, your ass… lifting your bottom slightly to slide you into his lap, your legs instinctively curling around his torso and oh- “Oh…”
He shushes you gently, rolling his hips so his cock slides along your folds, teasing and rubbing at your sex, lathering on your slick and growing harder.
“So good for me…”
You whine again, eyes finally fluttering open to stare at his mesmerizing lavender ones as he ruts softly into you. It drives you insane, the want, the wait. And you claw and grip at the bedsheets in anticipation when the engorged cockhead catches on your hole for a moment before sliding again, poking at your little clit instead.
“F-Fuck… Neuv, please…” You groan breathlessly, arms reaching out for him to hold onto the pale skin of his shoulders.
He hums and finally guides himself inside, the first stretch making you keen and toss your head back into the pillow. You see his eyebrows twitch slightly, diamond pupils dilating. Your inner walls squeeze and gush as he pushes deeper and deeper. Goosebumps rising on your skin, sweat running down the back of your neck.
He bottoms out and groans, long and low, leaning into you to rest his forehead on your shoulder, savoring the way you clench before seeking out your lips for a kiss. It’s passionate, heated, but still sweet and you can’t help the smile that breaks when you taste his favorite tea on his mouth, bold, strong and decadent.
As morning light filters in through almost sheer curtains you gaze up at his face, the sharp elegant lines, his long lashes, his beautiful eyes and the slightly disheveled hair, partially falling over his face. You reach out with a hand and comb your fingers trough the white and blue locks, brushing them behind a pointy ear before sliding your hand back and reaching for a horn, petting it gently with pure adoration.
“You’re beautiful.” He says.
You make a sound that’s a cross between a scoff and a laugh, blushing and realizing that as much as you’ve been staring at him, he’s done the same. “Was about to say that myself…” You reply. You see the white pupils flicker, turning to slits and back to diamonds and a shiver runs through your body, acutely aware he’s still inside you. “I love you...”
“I love you too, ma chérie, more than you can imagine.” Your breath catches with his words, spoken so sincere, with such resolute feelings.
You are his, so wholly and utterly, but he knows he belongs to you too. Irrefutably intertwined, awakening long forgotten instincts on the old dragon. Neuvillette’s hands hold your hips again as he starts thrusting into you, filling you and then retreating ever so slowly. You bite your lip and try to push closer, canting your hips to that delicious feeling as warmth pool in your gut.
Your arms are back around his neck, fingers tangling on his hair and bodies pressing together as his pace increases steadily, gasps leave your parted lips. Your muscles already tensing on a tight coil.
Neuvillette hisses as he sinks into you, harder but not faster, aiming his cock right where you want it most, he feels you tighten around him, hot warmth sucking him right in and begging for more. It’s perfection that Neuvillette ruts into, pressing over and over. His instincts on fire telling him to lay his claim.
“I love you.” He says again, unable to stop himself.
You feel pleasure bubbling up, fast, faster than you’d thought, and intense. Your toes curl, legs gripping harder around him and your nails accidentally clawing at his back, surely leaving red marks on that pristine skin. He groans, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting louder, wetter. His thrusts aim deep, heavy and punctuated strokes that hit your sweet spot with accuracy. Labored breaths mixing together.
“Neuv, Neuv… ‘m so close, please pleaseplease-” You whisper desperate, needy.
His thumb finds your clit and you squeal as he draws lazy circles on it, lasting only a few more seconds until you can’t stand it any longer and come undone for him… all over him, gripping him tightly, head thrown back with a loud moan, eyes shutting close.
“Hah… that’s it, hng-si serré…” He mutters and smiles satisfied as he looks at you, flushed and tender, whispering tender words against your neck, love and adoration pressed against your skin before his fangs do as well. Keeping his carefully measured pace as you ride the high of your orgasm and he chases his own pleasure, releasing inside you with that same slow methodical drive and a hoarse primal groan.
You both lie there for a few moments, panting and feeling the aftershocks, soaking up on the feeling of each other. A tangled mess of limbs between sheets and blankets. Neuvillette carefully rests his body on top of yours and you coo happily, combing his hair with your fingers, scratching at his scalp gently as another kind of of drowsiness settles on you, leaving you feeling floaty and light in the afterglow of your lovemaking.   
Your bodies relax and wind down, putty against one another when he raises his head from his resting spot at your chest and kisses you again, short but not less sweet.
“Good morning, ma chérie.” He says, voice low and soothing.
“Morning…” You smile back at him. A little amused.
He slides off of you and you whimper, feeling the stickiness and a slight discomfort from the sudden emptiness. He leans over a little and reaches for something on the bedside table. “I brought you some tea.” He presents you the cup delicately, still warm.
You chuckle and scoot to sit up at the crumpled blankets, graciously picking up the cup and taking a sip. The tea is fragrant and sharp, the same taste on his lips minutes ago… ah, so that was it.
“Thank you, Neuv.” You peek at him from over the cup.
A warm tea and a good fuck… you could definitely get used to mornings like this.   
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stevebabey · 1 year
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you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)
Steve blames it all on the clock.
That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.
Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.
It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.
But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.
Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.
Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.
It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.
Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”
Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.
Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”
The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.
No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—
“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?
O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.
The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.
“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”
It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.
Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.
But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.
It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.
“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.
“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.
He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.
Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.
When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.
-
Eddie stares in the mirror.
He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.
Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.
Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.
“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.
It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.
“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.
Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.
Well, wanted to kiss him.
Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’
Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.
It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.
“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”
Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.
The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.
-
“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.
Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.
“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.
And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.
Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.
Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.
He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.
“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.
Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”
Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.
“…Off.” is the word she decides on.
Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.
Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.
“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”
Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.
“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”
Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.
It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.
Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.
It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.
By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.
The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.
At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.
Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.
“Go away, Steve.”
Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.
“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.
“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”
There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.
“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”
What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.
“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”
And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.
“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”
It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.
“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”
“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.
Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.
“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.
“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”
Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.
“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.
Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”
Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.
“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.
He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.
Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;
“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.
And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.
Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.
"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.
So, Eddie kisses him.
now with a part four !
tags below! sry if i tagged u and u didn't want it just tagging everyone who replied <3 @they-reap-what-we-sow @impeachy @anaibis @resident-gay-bitch @ediewentmissing @newtstabber @original-cypher @invisibleflame812 @hunterbow04 @leather-and-freckles @dracoswifeandlokispet @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @lfaewrites @sundead @call-me-big-eyes @the-redthread @goblinmanifesto @etaka @bishopextractions @ketterfuck @persephone13 @beckkthewreck @maya-custodios-dionach @autumnal-dawn @yourstrulyjoko @gleefully-macabre @princess-eddie @savory-babby
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seraphiism · 8 months
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𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬
( can't you come to me now, this instant? i'm longing for you. )
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chara : astarion fandom : baldur's gate 3 quote cr : ingmar bergman
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astarion is not one for gentle affections, this quiet sense of intimacy a frightening and foreign being to this walking tragedy. yes, there is something he finds all too easy in the giving of himself to another, even if it may be through falsehoods & fatalities, even if there is something terribly lonely and desolate in a touch meant for the fervor. yet there is something so horribly different and confusing in the way he feels towards you-- from something born of deception and sickening sweet words to something more, to something real-- it makes no sense, and he despises this madness in limbo.
it's all too abstract and concrete all the same, and it's made of hypocriticals, but it's made of something so excruciatingly tender and naive, and maybe he thinks there's a safety to be found, somewhere, somehow, in you.
and perhaps that is the most frightening of all.
something weighs heavy on his mind ; something stirs beneath the rot carved into his chest, the hollows of being an ache in existence. it is so pronounced, so known, and surely this must be weakness. yes, that must be it-- nothing more, nothing less. he will admit that much, this fragility, because it's much easier to admit to that than to think of it being anything more.
ah, hells. he's too prideful, chin held high, practiced facade so carefully crafted. too stubborn, you think, to admit that he does find some semblance of comfort in your touch, and in the way his gaze meets yours, that lingering longing drowning in crimson hues, you understand.
you take a small step forward, note how he watches you with a vague hint of wariness. your movements are slow, cautious, but they are made of fondness and something reverent, and he does not know what to do with that.
you lace your fingers with his, squeeze his hand so gently that he almost cannot recognize this kindness you give to him. but he never can, can he? he'll never understand you, never understand why.
"sorry, astarion," you begin, "my hands are cold."
he blinks a few times, brow raised before he tilts his head in that certain, dramatic way you've grown to adore. the quiet joys that rest on the subtle curve of your lips grow the slightest bit at his reaction, and in return, he smiles, too.
"oh, how ridiculous. you always have to find excuses just to touch me, don't you?"
you laugh ; it is such a warm thing to hear, he thinks, and though he has only recently come to understand the sun's warmth, he does not think it could compare to yours.
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