#May I kiss you?

[acourtofquestions]

Rowan remained still as she approached, something clenched in her palm. It was only when she stopped close enough for him to touch her that she unfurled her fingers.

Two golden rings lay there.

"I don't know the Fae customs," she said.

The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted atop, the stone as large as her fingernail. "But when humans wed, rings are exchanged." Her fingers trembled just slightly. Too many unspoken words lay between them. Yet now was not the time for that conversation, for that healing.

Not when they had to be on their way as swiftly as possible, and this offer she'd made him, this proof that she still wanted what lay between them, the vows they'd sworn ...

"I assume the sparkly emerald is for me," Rowan said with a half smile.

She huffed a laugh. The soft, whispered sound was as precious as the rings she'd found for them in this hoard. She took his hand, and he tried not to shudder in relief, tried not to fall to his knees as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger. It fit him perfectly, the ring no doubt forged for the king lying in this barrow.

Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. "To whatever end," he whispered.

Silver lined her eyes. "To whatever end." A reminder-and a vow, more sacred than the wedding oaths they'd sworn on that ship.

To walk this path together, back from the darkness of the iron coffin. To face what waited in Terrasen, ancient promises to the gods be damned.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I'll make the tattoo again." She swallowed, but nodded. "And," he added, "I'd like to add another. To me—and to you." Her brows flicked up, but he squeezed her hand. You'll have to wait and see, Princess.

Another hint of a smile. She didn't balk from the silent words this time. Typical.

He opened his mouth to voice the question he'd been dying to ask for days now. May I kiss you? But she pulled her hand from his.

Admiring the wedding band sparkling on her finger, her mouth tightened as she turned over her palm. "I'll need to retrain."

Not a single callus marked her hands. Aelin frowned at her too-thin body. "And pack on some muscle again." A slight quiver graced her words, but she curled her hands into fists at her sides and smirked at her clothes-the Mistward clothes. "It'll be just like old times."

Trying. She was dredging up that swagger and trying. So he would, too. Until she didn't need to any more.

Rowan gave her a crooked grin. "Just like old times," he said, following her out of the barrow and back toward the ebony river, "but with far less sleep."

He could have sworn the passageway heated. But Aelin kept going.

Later. That conversation, this unfinished business between them, would come later.

[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."

[deadpoets]

SOLDIER, POET, KING by The Oh Hellos

[buckycap]

i do think it’s very important that liam pointed out specifically that no matter how hardheaded orym is in what he believes he doesn’t let that stop him from seeking dorian out for comfort and wanting dorian close to him and dorian quickly reciprocating. i think that’s especially important when so many people thought that their opposing sides would drive them further apart (especially on orym’s part) when in actuality we learned that orym’s love for dorian is SO fucking strong that it it supersedes his hardheadedness which when you remember who orym is, is actually a big fucking deal

[ryllen]

and some extra unused stuff while they are in affectionate mood

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚ෆ Tulips And Kisses.

Short Summary: Tom makes sure you start your birthday in the best way possible.

Warnings: 18+ only! oral f!receiving, fingering, praise, slight overstim

A/N: Happiest Birthday to my lovely wife aka @riddleswhcre!!! May you have the best day ever… here a little treat to get you started ;)

wordcount: 1,0k

A soft kiss to your forehead wakes you, eyelids fluttering open slowly. Weak sun rays fight their way through the cloudy mid-February sky, a soft warmth spreading through your body as they touch your skin.

“Good morning, darling.” a voice beside you drawls, smooth like velvet, your lips curling up into a smile when your eyes meet his gaze. Tom presses a tender kiss to your lips then, swiping a strand of hair out of your face.

“I brought you these,” he murmurs, revealing a bouquet of tulips he’s been hiding behind his back. “Your favourite.”

“Tom, these are beautiful,” you whisper, sitting upright on the bed to get a closer look. They are a soft pink colour, decorated with Gypsophilas, wrapped in foil with a pink ribbon on one side.

“Beautiful flowers for the most beautiful girl.” He answers casually, stroking your hair as you lean into his side. Then he kisses you again, sitting down beside you. He smirks against your lips, pulling back slightly as his eyes meet yours.

“I might have something else, too.”

You lift an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “And that is?”

He then gently pulls the sheets off your body, slipping in between your thighs.

“This.”

He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee next, tugging on your silky white shorts, urging you to lift your hips for him. When you do, they are quickly disregarded on the other side of the bed, and his fingertips graze along the lace of your panties while he trails soft kisses up your inner thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you whine, earning a smug grin from him as he looks up at you from between your legs. His thumb trails lower then, a low groan falling over his lips as he feels the already damp patch on your panties, swiping over the soaked fabric.

“So eager for me. Good girl.” He purrs, tracing over your clothed clit softly, watching as your face contorts in pleasure, hips bucking against his touch. Small pleas fall over your lips, hands tightly gripping at the sheets as your thighs tremble in anticipation.

Tom loves to have you like this—all worked up, whining and begging for him. Normally, he would tease you for longer, take his time, make you earn his touch. However, today, his focus lies on you and your pleasure.

So he doesn’t tease you any longer, ridding you of your panties. His thumb swipes through your soaked folds just a second later, first slipping one, then a second finger inside you, curling them with precision. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as his head dips, tongue lapping over your clit before his lips wrap around the swollen bud, gently sucking on it.

“Oh— oh fuck, Tom—“ you hiss as he drags his teeth over it, a firm hand keeping your thighs open for him. His fingertips brush over your most sensitive spot with every thrust of his hand, and before you know it, a familiar sensation forms in the pit of your stomach.

He mumbles something for you inaudible against your bare cunt, the vibrations of his voice pushing you to the brink of ecstasy, your walls greedily clenching around his fingers. The knot in your lower abdomen winds impossibly tighter, your breath coming out in short, ragged huffs. “Let go, darling.” Tom encourages you, briefly withdrawing from your clit only to lick and suck on it harder when his lips wrap around the puffy bud once more.

With his fingers picking up pace, you soon enough tumble over the edge with a shaky moan, thighs trembling as he works you through your orgasm perfectly, not leaving up until your body goes limp beneath his touch.

Vision still blurry, mind hazy with the aftereffects of your orgasm, you don’t realize he doesn’t have any intent of stopping just yet—only when his fingers slowly drag against your sensitive walls again, you whimper softly, small “no’s” spilling over your lips as you shake your head.

“You can take it,” he whispers, his thumb softly circling over your sensitive clit, “be good for me and take it.”

You nod, reluctantly, relaxing against the soft mattress underneath you. Tom doesn’t waste much time before his head dips between your legs again, tongue swiping through your folds before he finds your clit, gently, teasingly lapping on it. His arms keep your thighs parted for him, pinning you firmly underneath him when you try to squirm away from his touch.

You squeal when his lips close around your sensitive bud, fingers tangling in his dark curls. He doesn’t let up, not even when you tug on his hair—which he normally does not allow. Tom’s working your body like magic, every thrust of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge, and just when you think you can’t do it, you can’t put up with the overwhelming amount of pleasure—

“Too much— fuck Tom, too much!” You cry out, though, your body betrays your words. Your hips roll against his touch instead, chasing the pleasure even as you whimper in protest. And there you are again—eyes rolling to the back of your head, walls trembling around him.

“Mmmh. Come for me, pretty girl.” He mumbles against your skin, enough to send you over the edge. The waves of your orgasm wash over you, even stronger than the one before, your entire body spasming in pleasure as you come undone around his digits once more.

Your head sinks back into your pillow, cunt weakly pulsing. He slowly withdraws his digits as you come down from your high, leaving you empty. You don’t notice him leaving as you lay there, boneless, mind still spinning. Only when he returns with a wet cloth, wiping between your legs, a soft whimper escapes your lips, and you meet the gaze of his chocolate-brown eyes. You watch him intently before he sits down beside you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

[nanihirunkits]

WE ARE | EP16

[sun-e-chips]

Your fake husband sneaks some kisses while you cross the resort catwalk

Sun logic: It’s not PDA if there aren’t any resort and park guests around to see it~

^^ This was the cursed artwork that I had to recreate from memory because medibang paint decided kisses were illegal

(this exists now only because I really needed the reference of how I drew Suns rays from this angle)

[napping-sapphic]

*gives you a gay little kiss that feels like home*

[mamawasatesttube]

not enough people comprehend that kon has been a canon queer ally who speaks out against homophobia since 1998 tbh

superboy and the ravers #19

[starmaker-astral]

I JUST REALIZED

HELP

I always had troubles figuring out how the stuttering from Aziraphale could say "I can't-" or whatever and some people made fun how the "aga-" sounded so I just thought it was a weird sound but nvm.

Then I randomly rewatched the last 15 minutes remembering that his look meant "do it again"

BUT NO. NOT JUST HIS LOOK BUT HIS STUTTERING TOO???

"Ag-" AGAIN ???????

AZIRAPHALE WHAT

I CAN HEAR IT NOW

Why am I so late 💀 I saw no one talking about it im confused

[eff-exor]

nevermind touching grass, you need to come touch ur lips to mine u fucking loser

[sweaterrat]

A little dtoh!lemlav drawing I did heheh

I love my human donnie design

[hallowshumour]

Mistletoe kisses for a few of my friends! //ft @princessturtleanimus @w0ewill0w @valcritter 🦓💋‼️🖤

[screechingfromthevoid]

You know what I love about the kiss? How fucking joyful it was. It was so light and so happy and so freeing.

The confession was so heavy and came at the last possible moment. Dorian was in his lower register, careful and eloquent. Orym had folded in on himself, shy and quiet. They have the weight of the world in their shoulders and they just needed a moment alone together. To say I love you. To let the other know. It all hinged on the moment before there was no going back.

But this. The kiss. It was after laughter and wedding planning and appreciating little things like lavender honey. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was feeling good. For whatever reason it didn't feel hopeless then. In that moment futures existed. Tomorrows existed. And Orym had one. Orym had a future and a tomorrow in Dorian.

Orym was so moved by all the happiness in the air that he confidently took Dorian by the hand to bring him out to the hall, told, then asked, him he was going to kiss him. All of Orym's fears melt away for ten whole seconds. Dorian stuttered and fumbled his words and kissed him back.

It was so cute. It was so joyous.

You know what it reminds me of? The stolen century. After Lup and Barry fall in love over years and years and they play this beautiful duet together. They lock eyes and smile at each other and steal away, running up the valley, away from it all. That moment of holding each other and just keep on not letting go.

The unrelenting giddiness of it all. The excitement. The glee. The promise of future. Wanting a future. Especially if it's together.

[disgracefulthings]

A love interest displays multiple red flags

MXTX Character: That's hot