#kiss the girl fic

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: improper use of plumping lipgloss, mentions of alcohol, oral sex, it's steddie endgame i promise | crossposted on twitter

it’s no secret, steve likes making out. likes isn’t a strong enough word. he loves making out. loves grabbing hold of someone and pulling them close, loves laying over them on a couch, on a bed, hips just barely moving as he takes them apart with lips and teeth and tongue.

that doesn’t change once he’s had a few drinks either, body tingling with tequila or vodka or something equally strong that has his inhibitions thrown to the wind. he’s always able to find someone willing to dance with him, hips pressed together and arms wrapped around shoulders.

it’s usually girls, pretty things with pretty hair that draw steve in like a punch drunk happy moth to an overzealous flame. they’ll turn their heads with a flirty shy smile and follow him out to the dance floor before pressing up tight against his front.

they’ll curl their fingers into his where they rest low on their hips and keep him close. they’ll drop their heads onto his shoulder and let their breath ghost over the side of his face until he gets the all too obvious hint.

steve likes making out on a dance floor. no, not likes.

loves.

that is until his lips are covered in sticky, sweet lip gloss and he’s pulling away because his tongue is on fire, tingling from something other than alcohol and the thrill of being in a pretty girl’s mouth.

“what is that?” he yells into her ear over the bumping bass.

“sorry,” the girl says sheepishly, “it’s my lipgloss. it plumps my lips.”

she goes back in to kiss steve once more and he isn’t exactly going to deny her. her lips are pretty just like her, plump and shiny and all too inviting, so he kisses her back. the gloss is spicy on the cracks of his lips, on the tip of his tongue when he he pulls her lip in between his teeth. it’s addictive in a way. he wonders if his own lips will plump up from the contact alone.

later, when they say their drawn out goodbyes outside of the club, he’ll ask to borrow the lip gloss since his night isn’t over yet. she’ll pull it out with a grin and apply it so sweetly to her own lips and then to his. her touch is gentle and precise before she puts the tube back in her purse and then connects their lips for a final time.

steve likes to make out. no, not likes.

loves.

so he goes to a bar around the corner, robin hot on his coat tails with some blonde she picked up attached to her side, and he’ll order a vodka soda that he can sip through a straw so he doesn’t destroy his pretty glossed lips. the bar is grungy, but steve almost prefers that, able to blend into smoky shadows and dark corners while he watches the crowd.

while he watches someone in the crowd watch him back.

he has wild curly hair and handcuffs on his belt and steve swears he’s staring at his lips and the way the light is bouncing off of the gloss, but he isn’t too sure. not until there’s wild curly hair and handcuffs on a belt standing right in front of him.

steve has a different confidence with guys. maybe it’s because he has to read them a little differently. maybe its because he gets read by them a little differently, too. but flirting is flirting all the same and steve finds himself biting at his lip and licking away some of the spicy lip gloss with a wince as it burns the inside of his mouth.

curly hair handcuff guy is cuter once they start talking for a while, all animated and vibrant, a bright shiny beacon in a dingy bar. he finds out his name is eddie with a lingering handshake that means something, fingers trailing and tingling like they had a spice to them, too.

they don’t dance, but they do end up out back, sharing a cigarette as drunk people stumble around them. it’s easy enough for eddie to light, flame from the lighter sparking in his big, brown eyes.

“so steve,” he says, flicker of some other kind of spark in his eye, “where to?”

and steve knows how to do this part. he grabs the cigarette out of eddie’s mouth and puffs on it himself, blowing the smoke over his head. “is it too forward to say i don’t think i can last much longer without getting my mouth on you?”

eddie grins and lets his eyes flit down. “no. is it too forward for me to say that i’d let you do anything to me, mouth or otherwise?”

he takes the cigarette back and steve can see his trace left behind on the filter, can see when the hint of gloss hits eddie’s lips if the wrinkle of his eyebrows is anything to go off of.

he doesn’t say anything, just winks over at steve. he doesn’t say anything, just drags him into a taxi. he doesn’t say anything, just wraps a hand high over steve’s thigh, just pushes steve up against his apartment wall, just fumbles over handcuffs and pushes down his jeans.

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

if he loves making out, then he really fucking craves giving head. he feels like a cartoon animal with hearts popping out of his head as he pulls eddie’s cock out of his briefs. he licks his lips like he’s starving and regrets it when the gloss singes his tongue.

steve looks up from his knees and swipes a finger over his lips, holding it up high for eddie to see. “taste it,” he whispers.

eddie’s eyes widen, but he obediently bends his neck, tongue lolling out so he can lap at steve’s finger. “your lip gloss is spicy,” eddie says flatly as he recoils.

steve nods. “and it’s going on your cock unless you say otherwise.”

which is how steve finds himself turning eddie into a writhing mess. his hands hold onto the backs of eddie’s shaking knees as he works over his cock. his hair stings as eddie tugs on the strands. his eyes water as he sucks him in deeper and deeper into his throat, spicy lipgloss tingly on his tongue and cheeks.

“you are a fucking wonder,” eddie whines, hips humping as he grinds himself further into steve’s mouth. “just fucking made for this, huh?”

steve pulls off and spits on his cock to jack his hand over it as he pulls the head to his lips. he rubs the sensitive tip over his lips just to watch eddie twitch.

“you have no idea.”

he blows a line of cool air over the gloss that’s left there and drinks in the way eddie’s eyes roll back in his head before swallowing him back down, reveling in the spice that hits the back of his throat as he does so.

when eddie comes, he pulls steve off so he can paint his pretty, puffy, plump lips with it, dragging his cock over them to make a mess. it’s not a surprise when steve licks it off, spicy and salty and a special kind of sweet that he thinks is all eddie. he leans up to place a kiss into the thatch of hair over eddie’s cock, smearing behind come and shiny lip gloss.

“you gonna wait for me to come in my pants or can i go fuck you?”

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

and he loves giving eddie head. and he loves fucking eddie. and he loves waking up with a spicy, sticky residue on the side of his cheek after falling asleep with his head on eddie’s chest.

and maybe, just maybe, he’ll love eddie someday, too.

[octoberautumnbox]

Orange-Tinted Sunset

Kiss of Life Belle & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of alcohol n bein drunk, technically not cheating but also sorta close enough idk u be the :jujj:

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: another prompt fic! based on kiof's Nothing i swear im on hiatus lmao but here it is! thanks to @mintwithchoco for prompt and hosting! as well as @sinswithpleasure for beta and @0cta9on for saying i was good at everything so i crode strove to prove em wrong lmao

~~~

The nightclub spun around you, the alcohol clouding your thinking and doubling your vision. A strange feeling set in–you really were a guppy in a small pond. Whatever roaring applause you got from the crowd after that impromptu karaoke bout was nothing compared to the girl that came next. You can’t even work up the energy to be mad; her voice is the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, flowing through the air and filling up every silence in the world, and it doesn’t help one bit that everyone else thought so too.

Her name, just her name. You wouldn't mind going home with nothing to show for the whole weekend as long as you knew what she was called–you have to know. Against every single ounce of common sense you have left, you walk up to her, calling in every favor from the universe you’ve saved up until this point. “H-hey,” you stumble, clearly more nervous than you should be. 

She turns around, and as her hair settles onto her back, she replies, “Oh, hi. Can I help you?” Her smile lights up your world, and you gain confidence and lose it again just as quickly. She’s gorgeous too, and how could you live with yourself if you fucked up with a girl like this again? 

And you realize you’re staring. “Hi,” you start again, “sorry, I, uhh, you killed it up there. Best I've heard in a while.” Pardon yourself for the understatement; she was exceptional. Stop yourself from saying more; she’s probably already heard everything you want to tell her. 

All she does is giggle in response, and you swear you’re face-to-face with a goddess. You slip, so just fall deeper and remember to blame the alcohol later on, “I mean it. You’re like nothing I’ve heard before. Can I ask for your name?” 

Her face sours almost imperceptibly, but your nerves don’t let you miss it. She holds back a grimace, but ultimately, she replies, “It’s Belle. Sorry, is that all? I have to go soon.” She shifts in her chair, no doubt trying to escape the situation, and it dawns on you you might look worse than you feel. 

“Y-yeah, that’s all. I actually wanted to buy you a drink, maybe. One musician to another. You were amazing.” Your voice holds together for the most part, but it doesn’t change her demeanor. 

“Thank you, it’s just…” she hesitates, breathing deep, “whatever this is, I don’t want to get involved. You’re nice, but I just… I can’t handle anything else right now.” The discomfort leaves her features as a quiet sadness replaces it. You’re no expert, but even a dunce like you could tell she was tired more than anything else. 

“No worries, I respect it. I’ll leave you alone.” It’s strange how you feel the lightheadedness drifting away and your senses coming back, almost like you’ve saved up quite a bit of good karma to ground yourself like this. Debatable, but you still have enough sense in you to offer, “Here’s my number, no hard feelings if you throw it away. I at least wanna buy you some nachos tonight as thanks for that gorgeous song. Good night, Belle,” before paying for them and ultimately heading for the door, above all trying in vain to forget about her. 

~~~

It’s familiar in two ways, being hungover at noon, sitting in a restaurant too fancy for what you’d ever typically be found dead in. On one hand, it reminds you of one of the best days of your life–your beloved sat across from you in a simple floral sundress while you shared a brunch of French toast and orange juice. 

“Thanks for coming out,” Belle said in a tiny voice, “I'm sorry about last night. I want to get to know you better.” She offers you a pancake, and once you accept she deposits it onto your plate, followed by a just-right helping of maple syrup. 

You try to avoid sounding humble, but there’s no other way to put it. “There's not much to know, really. I just came here on a whim. Needed to get away from it all, broaden my horizons. Us singers just gotta, you know? If I didn't, I'd never have found you.” 

“I hear you. I'm here to take a step back too. Things became too much to handle recently,” she relates as she takes careful bites of her cereal. For the first time since last night, you see each other's eyes, and a kindred spirit in you pulls on your heartstrings. It's an unspoken pain that's anything but obvious, and yet you see it in each other as clear as day. 

“Fucking exes, right?” the pair of you say in unison. A hearty laugh escapes both of you, and afterwards the pancakes slide down a bit easier. 

Belle calms herself first, “So you get how I was last night. I'm sorry, none of it was your fault.” You offer her a napkin and pour her another cup of ginseng tea, which she sips with an ethereal sort of grace once she finishes talking.

“Of course. I'm sorry too,” you sigh, picking at your scrambled eggs, “but at least we're recovering. I'm actually itching to write a new song once my hangover clears.”

“Me too, it’s just so freeing to let my feelings out onto songs. Plus all it costs is a pen and paper–much cheaper than therapy,” she agrees.

On the other hand…

~~~

“Blue palm trees?” she giggles. “What does that mean?”

The waves lap idly at your feet, scattering sand over your toes and hers. The calming ocean breeze washes over the both of you and weakly ruffles the paper she easily holds.

“It's called a hook, Belle. It captures the audience's attention, you should know this shit” you jab, drawing out more of her laughter. “Just let me be, okay? I'm the one with the pencil.”

She settles again, “Okay, okay, fine,” and sits back up straight. Another wave washes the sand away from the tops of your feet, dragging them back to the depths of the sea. In a split-second of feeling the grains slide off your skin and away with the water, you feel deep inside that maybe it'll be easier to walk again. 

“You know,” she starts gently, “this isn't too bad. I came here determined to grow stronger, but I don't feel any different–just more of what I was before. And weirdly…” Belle pauses, taking a short glance at you, meeting your eyes.

You can't help it; she's just that beautiful. The orange-tinted sunset behind her offers her a halo of warmth and sincerity, and it captivates your whole being to be able to spend a moment like this again, when the world is just right, especially with her. The waterline reaches up to your soles once more, tickling the both of you and sprinkling new grains between your toes before drawing back and taking the old away. 

“... Weirdly,” you continue for her, “I'm okay with that.” Your eyes never leave hers, and she stays, too. It takes a moment of serenity for you to finally let yourself think that this might be something more, that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay with a girl like her. 

It takes a moment of serenity for you, but it seems like forever in an instant. Memories rush back like the ocean soaks the shoreline, swapping old sand with new, but you could never, can never, tell the difference. It's the same grains washing your feet, slipping between your toes, embedding themselves in your life so well that random moments like this bring you to the past when you least expect it. It reminds you of a history you'd give anything to forget: walking on a beach like this with a girl you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with–to an extent, you still do. How could you fuck up with a girl like that?

~~~

It's the worst gamble the both of you could take, and deep inside you knew there was no winning this. You felt it in your bones, from the beach to the elevator up until before you burst through her door with her, but the feeling is gone now, and for sure it’s gone for her too.  

“Mmm, just like that,” she whispers straight into your ear. You swear you’ve never tasted anything as sweet as the sweat on her neck, so much so that you never want your lips to leave her. She pulls you closer as if she could, maybe only decreasingly aware that her back was up against the wall and that even grains of sand couldn’t breathe in the space between you two. 

It takes no time at all, and you find yourself laid back and vulnerable on her mattress. Belle towers over you, straddling to keep you in place, as if you’d go anywhere. In a flash her shirt leaves her, then her shorts, and finally her underwear haphazardly thrown to the floor. Your own clothes follow even less ceremoniously, letting nothing get in the way of the woman of your dreams. 

“Fuck, that’s good…” she says as she lowers herself onto your length. You relish in the feeling of sliding into her, pushing her walls apart all the while lewd confessions spill from her lips. Your hands find her hips and you grip her tight, guiding her up and down as she bounces on your cock, “You’re so fucking tight, Belle…” while she places her hands on your chest to support herself as she takes you inside her over and over again, “I can’t get enough of you… I need you so bad…” losing yourself in her love. 

It’s the simplest thing to grab her wrists like this, to throw her onto the bed and fuck her yourself. She hits the mattress with a quiet thud, and without even a moment of respite you force everything into her again. 

“Gnnhhh, shit, it’s so good, you’re so good…” she gasps and grunts with every thrust like it knocks the air out of her each time. The bed creaks under the two of you: she tries to pull you close again, so you indulge her and meet her where she is to kiss. Amidst your tongues dancing in each other’s mouths, she moans like her life depends on it, “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes–” 

It’s the easiest thing to get lost in a girl like her. She’s perfect in every way you can think of–a smile to die for, a heart to protect, a body to worship. Each moment you bottom out in her, a spark goes off between your lips and hers, and it only pulls you in deeper, pulls you away farther from where you are. There’s nothing else to think about when you’re with a girl like this except her name and the way her body feels on yours. It’s so dreadfully incessant, unceasing in your head, that you thank your lucky stars you’re able to hold back most of your moans: Yuna, Yuna, Yuna, “Yuna…”

~~~

The sun blazes through the window and straight onto your eyelids, jolting you awake. The bed creaks as you bounce slightly on the mattress, your mind rushing to find your bearings, when right beside you, Belle stirs but then promptly falls back asleep. 

A grave sense of guilt overtakes you, clawing from the pit of your stomach all the way up to the back of your throat. There's nothing to say to her, nothing to do, and you know it. How could you fuck up with a girl like this? 

Your phone's alarm rings on a far-off table. Rush over to it, careful but quick so Belle doesn't wake. You knock over an ottoman in the process, but you're able to turn it off in time. Then it hits you: your flight leaves in a couple hours. There's no more time to think–gather your clothes and rush back to your own hotel. 

“Hour and a half,” you think, “more than enough time to repack and go.” Your door crashes open and you heave your suitcase onto the bed, haphazardly throwing everything you own back into it. The zipper disagrees with you for a moment until you finally bend it to your will, albeit threatening its life in the process.

The cabbie drives as fast as he can legally go for you, apparently already knowing the protocol, and people and buildings whizz past in a giant blur. He drops you off soon enough, and with only minutes to spare and the gate calling you over the intercom, you board your plane. The cold of the seat comforts you and calms your nerves, and once the hurried energy leaves your body, all that's left is fatigue that demands to be addressed. 

You scarcely notice the window beside you beyond pulling it shut. The cushions aren't as comfy as your bedding from the night before, but you can't attempt to complain in a state like this. You don't even feel your train of thought slipping away…

~~~

You’ve put it off long enough, the anxiety rending the lining of your stomach. In between your own calls and texts to Yuna you find yourself on the receiving end of the restlessness of your endlessly repeating ringtone and text notifications. You wait another few seconds to make sure she’s done, even tossing your phone onto your old bed to fetch a glass of water, before picking it back up and seeing the same number of messages. It's time. 

hey, where'd you go? Belle, 8:46 AM

it's a nice song, I'll send it over in a bit. call me? Belle, 8:50 AM

I'm at the restaurant again lol come on over Belle, 9:02 AM

you're really gonna make me miss you huh? hahaha Belle, 9:33 AM

*2 missed calls*

this isn't funny. pick up Belle, 10:14 AM

*2 missed calls*

you're serious? so last night was nothing to you? Belle, 11:15 AM

*1 missed call*

wow, what a fucking piece of shit you are Belle, 11:17 AM

*4 missed calls*

is it something i said?  Belle, 2:46 PM

let's just talk Belle, 3:30 PM

*2 missed calls*

just tell me what I did wrong please, I told you I can't handle this Belle, 3:37 PM

*8 missed calls*

don't do this to me Belle, 5:47 PM

*1 missed call*

fine asshole i don’t need you and fuck your song. Belle, 7:15 PM

don’t ever call me. Belle, 8:40 PM

The screen dims under your command. Your phone flies off into the folds of your bed once more, granting you your last moment of control. Belle finally stopped, and Yuna never made herself heard. At least one of you moved on.

You stand in your cold, empty bedroom, in the same dingy apartment you tried leaving behind. The same torn-up pages are scattered across the floor, the same stains on the carpet are there to step around, the same picture framed flipped down to hide the old photograph inside like grains of sand getting swept back up to you no matter how hard you try washing them away.

“It's another bottle tonight,” you decide in no time at all. Pull a cold one from the fridge, ignore the other bottles strewn across the room, take a seat at your desk. The lamp buzzes to life, and another sheet finds itself under your pen. 

They never meet. 

~~~

[sweetsouldhavernas]

Mirrorverse Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay ↳ CRACKED MIRROR

[walmart-miku]

ok people we gotta stop making mori the source of all evil with soukoku. Yes mori is evil about how he treated yosano and a lot of the pm members but that's a whole other can of worms.

Anyways with skk MORI WOULD NOT TRY TO GET IN THEIR WAY IN FACT HE WOULD ENCOURAGE THEIR ASSES TO GET TOGETHER THIS PANEL EXISTS FOR A REASON.

MORI SHIPS THEM SO BAD ITS ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS.

Fics need to stop making this dude try to prevent skk from dating. I want a crack fic where mori is just like "Hey how was ur day do u like to kiss guys?" To both dazai and chuuya. I want mori shenanigans where he's actively trying so hard to set them up and Elise is sitting in a corner with kouyou and they're hard core judging him.

[cerise-on-top]

hi! how would Valeria and Kate react if their wife’s got hurt because of their work, both of them working highly jobs and it ended up catching up to their s/o. hoe you are doing well and drink plenty of water! thank you!

-🍒

Hello! Both of them would be absolutely distraught, but would go about it in different ways!

Valeria’s and Laswell’s Wife Gets Hurt Because of their Job

Valeria: Whoever hurt you will wind up tortured and eventually, once she thinks they’ve had enough of their miserable life, will wind up dead. Naturally, the first thing she does is check up on you, see if you’re alright and well, that’s her priority. You’re the love of her life, there’s no one else in this world she wants to see do well. You’ll be admitted to the best hospital nearby and will only get the finest treatment. Once you’re stabilized, that’s when the hunt begins. Whoever hurt you won’t get too far since that bastard’s life will be on the line. Regardless of where they might be hiding, Valeria will find them and show them that death is actually a kind of mercy. She has pretty much everything at her disposal, everything money can buy, this sucker won’t know what hit them. If it’s revenge they want, then revenge they’ll get. Valeria promises you that their head will be on a silver plate. She’s not very good with words when it comes to comforting someone, but she will have that person killed in the most cruel ways she can imagine. In fact, she’ll take the pleasure of torturing them upon herself. Once she’s done, she’ll take some days off, which is surprising since she usually can’t afford that at all. You’ll be under her direct care for those days. Anything you want you’ll get. Afterwards there will be a slight shift in her demeanor, Valeria becomes more protective over you. Sometimes she might even assign some trusted people of hers to watch over you since she can’t afford something like that happening again. While she can’t always take some days off, she’ll try to be closer to you anyway. Always texting you, finding excuses to come home for a day maybe. She just really needs to make sure you’re okay, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you died.

Laswell: Laswell will try to be a bit more diplomatic about it at first, trying to coax whoever hurt you out of hiding. This person will be held accountable for their crimes against her world. Naturally, she rescues you first, gets you to the nearest hospital and won’t leave your side until you’re stable again. If it takes you a while to wake up again, she’ll leave to find the fucker and make sure they swim with the fishes. She has a pretty large, efficient network and will find out who it was fairly easily. Once she knows who they are, she won’t hesitate to find out all their past crimes as well, if they hurt you then they must have done some other awful things as well. Once that phase is over, she’ll go to their home herself and have them arrested, put in the worst prison imaginable where the inmates are treated especially badly. She won’t kill them, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they wind up dead anyway. Laswell usually isn’t an evil person, but she does hope that person dies during their time. Their sentence will be as long as possible so there’s no chance of them ever seeing the sunlight again either. Once all of this is over, she, too, would take some days off to spend with you. You’re a priority above all else, so Laswell will want to be there for you, no matter the cost. While she usually isn’t, depending on how severely you got hurt she might become a bit overbearing, a bit overprotective. That overprotectiveness will last for a few months, afterwards she’ll try to give you some space again. However, she’ll always be keeping a closer eye on you, always texting or calling you every once in a while to make sure you’re okay. If she needs to, she’ll put you under her protection officially, but the situation needs to be dire for that to happen. Either way, she’ll be keeping you safe.

[tiffysdeath]

alex is literally so boyfriend coded

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them

[platossoulmates]

finally got my shit together yall get ready

[whoreforbuckybarnes]

Secret smoking: imagine w/jj maybank x reader (fem)

You and the rest of the pogues were around the campfire that was skilfully produced by jj and John b (jj provided the lighter). You and JJ had been taking secret glances at each other throughout the night, enjoying everyone’s company but at the same time desperate for some time together.

You and JJ had always been close friends and lately the lines between friends and more than friends had been blurring: The secret glances; JJ’s teasing winks alongside a smirk; and physical contact has been becoming more common between you two. Obviously, the rest of the pogues noticed the dynamic change between you two and have attempted to get you two to talk to them about it but failed miserably.

JJ moves to sit next to you and speaks hushed so no one else hears over their own conversation, “ you wanna go on a walk? I have a blunt.” When you agree with your response of “stupid question j”, he does his signature smirk and pats your knee. You both get up and get hit with confused yet amused looks from the rest of the pogues but ignore them.

Once you both had walked away from your friends, JJ pulls out the blunt from his well loved jean pocket and a lighter. JJ puts the joint in between his pink lips that you’ve stared at many times before and hands you the lighter. He mumbles “light me up girl” you chuckle slightly and proceeded to do just as he says. He takes a drag and passes it over to you as he breathes out the addicting smoke.

You both continued to walkover to the edge of the aged planks of the pier to take a well needed seat. You both pass the blunt to each other in silence, eye contact only breaking to take in each other’s features. Neither of you don’t notice until your knees are touching that you two had gradually been moving closer to each other in every pass of the blunt.

One could consider the two of you as reasonably stoned at this point after many minutes of silent inhaling of marijuana, when suddenly the comfortable silence was broken by JJ blurting out, “you uhh… you know you’re pretty right? Like really pretty”. Your eyes widen slightly and cheeks flush slightly - only just detectable in the slight beam of the moon in the night sky.

“Yeah? Thanks JJ” I smile at him as he smiles back at me

“You know you’re not to bad yourself” you say while passing the spliff back to him and moving a small piece of his blonde hair out of his eye. JJ takes a drag and pauses before he says, “ you know everyone thinks we like each other”

“Yeah Kie and Sarah were asking me what was up with you and me” you reply. In that time you somehow had gotten closer to each other. The tension between you two was thick in the air as JJ’s hand travels up your leg to where your worn, denim shorts meet your thigh.

“What is up with you and me y/n?” He asks as he plays with the distressed threads of your shorts while still maintaining eye contact. You can’t help but notice the red hue to his baby blues.

“You’re high j” you say, not quite believing that this was happening. “So are you. Are you gonna answer my question?” He replies with a slight smirk. I exhale and admit “I don’t know. What do you think is up with us?”

JJ pauses for a while then reveals “I think I really want to kiss you right now. Looking so pretty with my blunt in between your perfect fucking lips.” You swear right then and there you stopped breathing, after a long pause of surprise you reply “great minds think alike” and the small distance between the two of you closed in an instance. Your hands found his chest as his one free hand found your throat while your lips moved against his in perfect harmony. The kiss becomes increasingly more heated as the both of you become increasingly more needy for each other.

Suddenly, You could hear footsteps and pulled away quickly to see Kiara standing at the base of the pier, mouth agape.

“Shit” JJ and you say in unison

“Guys you won’t believe what I’ve just seen!”

Hey guys this is my first imagine so sorry if it’s not that good I’ve never been good at creative writing but I’m gonna try 🩷 pls interact thank youu

Also requests are open and let me know if you want an alternate ending cuz I panicked ngl cuz I’ve never written smut but I’m down to try

[rayssion]

Solangelo fic idea because I love them,

Soulmate au wherein once you're claimed the mark of your soulmate appears as a tattoo on your body, it might be the same place as your soulmate, it might be different. If your soulmate is a mortal then only a letter 'M' appears.

Everyone is so worked up because Will never showed his mark, some of them speculated his soulmate is a mortal, some of them argued that it could be unrequited love like his soulmate might be Annabeth but she found her soulmate so he's destined to be alone. No one knows for sure, except for his sister Kayla.

The helm of darkness? Geez who could it be? The only child of Hades out there is Nico di Angelo. Will is 100% sure that the boy despise his guts, also he heard from Kayla that the boy already has a crush, and he's not sure if the concept applies on roman demigods, but didn't Hazel have a soulmate already?

Will never shows his mark, he felt devastated especially that the son of Hades is quite distanced.

Nico tries to operate between his pitiful crush on Percy, Jason who's urging him to let go and find himself another person, and his own mark.

The little sun tattooed on the side of his torso.

Funny thing, everyone thinks his soulmate is a mortal.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 13 - Almost Kiss

@wolfstarmicrofic May 13, word count 362

Merlin, he was drunk. Remus had had way too much alcohol. Marlene had been in charge of the witch's brew and it was so much more alcoholic than Remus had realised. 

He blinked through the haze and found himself propped against a wall next to Sirius. He had no idea how he'd got there, but at a guess, James had probably put them there. His heart began pounding as he realised how close they were. Their thighs were squashed up against each other and their shoulders were brushing. 

He turned his head and met Sirius’s eyes. 

“Hi,” He said, the word slurry as it passed his lips. 

“Hi,” Sirius grinned back, sounding just as slurry. 

“You’re pretty,” Remus’s stupid mouth let slip. Sirius’s grin broadened.

“You’re pretty too.” His eyes seemed to be unfocused, but that could have been Remus’s. “No Moony, I really mean it.” Sirius professed, reaching out trying to take Remus’s hand, but ended up punching him in the arm before he found it. “You’re magic, Moony.” He whispered and leaned in. 

Even in the state he was in, Remus knew what Sirius’s intentions were, and he couldn’t believe that finally, finally, it was going to happen. 

Sirius was so close now, Remus could smell the firewhisky on his breath. He moved to close the gap. But just before they were about to kiss, Sirius’s eyes widened in horror. 

“Moony, I’m going to be sick!” And he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach right onto Remus’s lap. 

“Eugh!” He exclaimed at the mess. Lily whipped past at that point and vanished everything, leaving Remus clean once more. 

She stood in front of them with her hands on her hips and said to them in her best stern head girl voice. 

“Bed, both of you.” They didn’t argue. Remus pulled Sirius to his feet and Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus as they ascended the stairs. They both ended up in the same bed, too drunk and too tired to continue what almost happened downstairs. Instead, they just fell asleep and didn't notice when the other Marauders entered the room and crashed about trying to find their beds. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Incorrect Quote

*After a kiss between Y/N and a (male) Slasher in the Horror House*

Y/N: He- he just like- grabbed me?

Jennifer, trying to gage whether she should be buying knives or not: Uhuh...

Y/N: And he- he took me-

Tiffany, eyes closed imagining it (Already knows Y/N's into it): Mhm, yeah..

Y/N: And he was there- and I was there-

Jennifer: Yes?...

Y/N: It was firm?? B-But tender??

Tiffany: Oh! So, it was good, huh?~

Y/N, frazzled: No! I mean- well, I saw through space and time for a minute there but THATS NOT THE POINT, I SHOULDNT HAVE DONE IT!-

[averyaddamsromance]

AGED-UP CHARACTERS

Appreciation post for the fanfic of the moment - yes basically many read it, many talk about it and many are obsessed about it - I am just reporting facts. Probably, it helps that the writer is also one of the most amazing people in our fandom.

We are not at the peak yet but chapter 7 by @thetornadodream was a smashing hit.

[elliesfavbae]

Are you nervous, flower? - First kiss with Ellie, pt. 2

part one part three

synopsis: Your more experienced at kissing best friend helps you out but it starts to get out of control.

Pairing: Ellie Williams x unexperienced!reader

warnings: js a short fluff, intense kissing, eventual smut

smut incoming in the next part😋

wc: ab 800

I can't believe what has just transpired. Yes, it may look like a simple kiss, but it was your very first kiss. Your first kiss is with your best friend.

You speak again. Your voice fades into a whisper. "So..." "Can you kiss me again?"

"Ooh, someone is eager." She grins, but you can tell she's enjoying it as well. "Now, I want you to try it. Kiss me, y/n.

You feel hot again, losing all of your confidence. You don't know where to begin, and Ellie appears to notice it. "Come on, just bring me closer to you and kiss me," she adds softly.

Her speech soothes you; you take a deep breath as you lay your hands on her smooth cheeks.

You gently bring her towards you, just like she has done before. You do it slowly, watching for her reaction, but you don't see any, so you go ahead and connect your lips to hers. This time the kiss is firmer; Ellie allows herself to suck harder on your lips, and so do you. You taste her lips on your own. They’re surprisingly sweet.

You adjust your position so that your knees and thighs are touching. Ellie tugs at her lips and smirks as she breaks away from the kiss.

"Better" is all she says about the kiss. "You have to use your hands as well; it's not just about the lips." Ellie takes your hands from her face and places one on her hip and the other behind her neck. Her skin is so warm.

She then wraps her hands over your hair, occasionally tugging on hair strands and massaging your scalp.

"Feels nice, hm?" She whispers, and you kiss again, your confidence rising with each breath.

Your hands begin to feel around her hips, passing through her thighs and stomach. You automatically split your lips to let the warm muscle explore her tongue as it brushes over your bottom lip. As soon as you insert your own tongue inside her mouth, the kiss becomes even more intense. You have no idea what to do or whether she enjoys it, but you soon hear a hum of approval. Breaking off the kiss to take a breath, you glance up at Ellie's face. Its hue transitioned to pink all over her cheeks.

“Was it good, or at least... acceptable?” After a while of staring at each other, you inquire.

"Does it mean you want to finish?" Not even trying to hide her dismay, she asks, but you didn't say you were going to stop.

"I mean, do you want me to stop? You choose to give her a little teasing; you bite your lip.

"Do I look like I want to stop?" That's all it takes to give her another kiss. Without a doubt, this kiss is the hungriest of them all. Ellie senses it too, so she tosses you onto the mattress and precisely tugs at your hair strands with her hands. It almost feels too good to be true. You don't even notice that you're letting out a slight groan.

"Someone's enjoying this a bit too much." She whispers against your lips between the kisses, and you understand what just happened.

“Fuck, sorry, did I make it weird?” You stop making out, feeling embarrassed.

"Flower, no, it's okay." She comes up right away to console you. Once more, she calls you by name, which causes your stomach to race with butterflies. "Actually, I liked it." The flying bugs inside of you are actually erupting right now. You're so desperate to kiss her again that you're not even able to think clearly. So you act. She presses you up against the bed. She slides her knee between your thighs, intensifying the kiss. A soft groan leaves your lips as the kiss becomes incredibly sloppy. 

She suddenly reaches for your hand and places it on her lower abdomen, and you know what she means by this. Your fingers follow her skin all the way to her chest. Playing with the hem of her sports bra, you fold her breast through the material. She has such a soft chest, but you're not sure how much you can allow yourself to do with it. However, it no longer feels like a best friend helping another friend out. You hear muffled groans, but they aren't coming from you this time.

“Do you want to go further?” She asks, her cheeks covered in a red blush, a challenging smile tugging her lips.

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 17)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.5k words, no warnings) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {fluff chapter! they go on a little date :3}

last part - masterlist - next part (coming soon)

As soon as Lance got off the plane, he checked his phone and smiled at the name on his screen. Nando.

"You are free tonight?"

"Yep," Lance quickly typed, coming to a standstill in the middle of the airport.

"Dress pretty, I'll come at 5." The Canadian nodded to himself and wheeled his suitcase out to the car his dad had sent for him.

Over the past week, Lance had finally come out to his father. He was scared of how his dad would react, but Lawrence had simply hugged him and apologized for the hurtful things he said. Lance had cried, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. This time, his dad didn't call him a queer for his long hair, (but he did ask if that's why he was growing it out, like a mating call.)

Back at the hotel, Lance anxiously checked the time as he lay on his stomach on the bed. He'd been dressed for two hours already, and there were still 20 minutes until 5. Sharing the room with Nico meant Nico had to endure Lance's constant whining and complaining as he waited.

"Bubu," Nico started, Lance looking over at him before he continued "Shut up."

"You're so rude." Lance groaned again, slamming his face into the pillow in his arms "If you were waiting for Lewis you'd be impatient too." He mumbled into the pillow

As soon as Fernando picked Lance up, his face was lit with a broad smile. "You clean up well," he teased, leaning in to give Lance a quick kiss on the cheek.

Lance blushed, his heart racing. "Thanks. You look great."

In the car, they talked easily, their hands occasionally brushing against each other.

Fernando's thumb gently stroked the back of Lance's hand, sending shivers down his spine. Even though they'd been together for months at this point Lance still felt like he had an embarrassing highschool crush.

They arrived at a cozy Italian restaurant, a favorite of Fernando's, with dim lighting and an intimate atmosphere.

The host led them to a quiet corner table, where they settled in. Fernando reached across the table and took Lance's hand. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he admitted, his eyes softening as he gazed at Lance.

"Me too," Lance replied, squeezing his hand. "It feels good to be here with you. I missed you"

When the waiter arrived, Fernando confidently ordered for both of them. "We'll start with the bruschetta and caprese salad, and for the main course, the seafood risotto and the truffle gnocchi."

Lance smiled, appreciating his decisiveness, knowing that he would've stared at the menu helplessly if he had to order for himself. "You really know your way around a menu," he laughed, remembering how Fernando had talked about this place before.

Fernando hummed. "Is not too hard, I know what you like."

As they waited for their food, the conversation naturally shifted to the upcoming Grand Prix.

"Are you ready for the race?" Fernando asked, his eyes meeting Lance's in the warmly lit resteraunt, it wasn't too busy so there was no reason for them to pretend this wasn't a date.

"Definitely," Lance replied. "The team's been working hard on the car, and Nico's been great. What about you and Giancarlo?"

Fernando nodded, a playful grin on his lips at the thought of his close friend and teammate. "We've been pushing Renault to the limits, am convinced the engineers are tired of both of us. The circuit is hard, but always a fun one."

Lance leaned in, eyes lidded slightly as he smiled at his boyfriend, laughing at his own anxiousness. "I'm worried."

Fernando laughed too, the sound warm and reassuring. "You’ll get it. Just trust yourself."

Their appetizers arrived, and they shared bites of bruschetta and caprese salad, playfully feeding each other small bites and laughing at the mess they made. The conversation flowed from racing to personal stories, with Lance sharing funny anecdotes about his childhood and Fernando recounting his early days in racing, really whatever they could think of that the other didn't know.

When the main courses arrived, they dug into the rich flavours, occasionally stealing bites from each other's plates.

Fernando brushed a strand of hair away from Lance's face, his touch lingering. "You have no idea how happy I am right now, Mi sol." he said softly.

Lance smiled, his heart swelling with affection. "Me too. I missed you."

As the evening went on, their hands found each other across the table, fingers intertwined. They talked about their hopes for the future they wanted together, their fears, anything and everything that came to mind. Fernando's support and understanding made Lance feel more confident and secure, ready for the weekend ahead.

When they finally left the restaurant, the night air was cool, and Fernando wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulders, pulling him close. "You'll do great, Lance. Just remember why you love it."

Lance smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "Thanks, Nando. I needed that."

Back in the car, they drove back to the hotel, the city lights reflecting in their eyes. Fernando parked and turned to Lance, his expression serious but tender. "I believe in you, Lance. Both on and off the track."

Lance leaned in and kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss that conveyed all the feelings words couldn't express. "I love you," he whispered.

Fernando smiled, his eyes sparkling with emotion. "I love you too, Mi vida."

The Suzuka Circuit was buzzing with anticipation as the weekend kicked off. Qualifying had been a mixed affair for the drivers. Fernando was barely leading the championship and only managed to secure 5th on the grid. Lance had managed to place 11th, earlier in the season he would've celebrated but 11th was embarrassing in a race-winning car.

The lights went out, and away they went. Fernando had a great start, quickly moving up to 3rd by the end of the first lap. His driving was precise and aggressive, every move perfect.

Lance, starting from the middle, was determined to score points for Racing Point again. By lap 10, he had already made his way up to 8th, maneuvering through the field with newfound confidence and determination to not let down his team. Nico was battling just behind him, holding his own and supporting the team's efforts.

Renault'a strategy came into play as the race progressed. He timed his pit stops perfectly, managing to leapfrog his rivals and move into 2nd place. With ten laps to go, he managed an overtake for the lead, cementing his position at the front. From there, he maintained a relentless pace, never giving his competitors a chance to catch up.

Lance, meanwhile, continued to impress. By the final laps, he had climbed to 6th place, a remarkable feat given his starting position and the teams results earlier in the season.

As the chequered flag waved, Fernando crossed the finish line first, securing a vital win and extending his lead in the championship. The crowd erupted in applause, celebrating his drive as they alwaya did. Lance finished in 6th, an excellent result that underscored his growing potential.

The podium ceremony was a blur of cheers and champagne. Fernando stood tall on the top step, the Spanish anthem playing as he raised the trophy high. Lance watched from the sidelines, his heart swelling with pride and admiration for his boyfriend. He couldn't wait to see his lover on the top step a hundred more times.

After the ceremony, Fernando made his way through the throngs of well-wishers to find Lance. Their eyes met, and a smile spread across Fernando’s face. Lance stepped forward, not hesitating before embracing him tightly.

"You were incredible out there," Lance murmured, his voice distorted in the fabric of the Spaniards fireproofs.

Fernando pulled back slightly, looking into Lance’s eyes. "You too, Lancito. Sixth place is amazing. Getting better every weekend."

Nico eventually joined them, a satisfied grin on his face. He had finished 9th, a solid result, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Lance caught him glancing towards the paddock entrance where Lewis Hamilton, still in GP2, was standing. There had been whispers about Nico and Lewis, and it seemed those rumors were grounded in truth.

As the evening wore on, the celebrations moved to the Renault hospitality area. Fernando and Lance found a quieter corner, away from the people still in blue and yellow.

"Every race, I see more of your potential," Fernando said softly, his hand brushing Lance's as he continued to praise him.

Lance smiled, leaning into Fernando's touch. "I only drive fast because the sooner I'm done the sooner I can see you," He laughed, embarrassed at his own confession

Their connection was undeniable, even those convinced it was purely platonic couldn't deny the connection between the two polar opposite drivers. In that moment, surrounded by the hum of celebration, they found a moment of peace and intimacy.

"To many more victories," Lance whispered, his voice full of promise.

Fernando smiled, pulling Lance closer. "Together"

[yourlazykitkat]

I don’t know why but I always imagine azris falling in love in the the winter court.

They’d both be there for work- Eris seamlessly stringing people along with his silver tongue, Azriel spying through the pale shadows of winter. There’s a mutual understanding that when Eris notices a few rebellious shadows, he looks away with a blinding smile so that whatever courtier he’s charming doesn’t see a thing, that when Azriel watches Eris slip into the private rooms- he calls his own spies off and attends himself so that whisper of a conspiracy does not bleed out. They don’t get along at all but they are reluctant allies.

Which makes things confusing when Eris catches a glimpse of Azriel from his guest room windows. The sharp, dangerous edges of an imposing Ilyrian softening in the gentle rain of snow, sleet falling on a beautiful face which shifts from cold stone to quiet wonder. Things are confusing when Azriel as a spy, an extremely unwelcome guest, has no place to stay but cold abandoned rooms and empty rafters. Illyrians are resistant to the colder more than others but it doesn’t stop Eris taking pity on Azriel who’s shoulders are stiff and fingers are blue. Eris is warm, his hand drags Azriel to his own quarters- Azriel has never held someone who’s blood runs so hot. He wonders if all autumn fae are like this or if it’s just Eris. The autumn prince will hide Azriel in his room and it gets confusing when late nights when either of them can sleep, they start talking about Eris’ dogs, Azriel’s shadows. They argue until they have to go to bed furious at each other (but keep each other warm) on some nights and others, they confess forgotten dreams and weak promises.

It’s confusing because they’re both workaholics who know better than this. There’s no playing at work- that just leads to horrible choices and decisions that they can’t afford to make. They act on behalf of their courts, they’ve learned better than to listen to their thundering, traitorous hearts.

It was useless to fight it, the surge of emotion, the falling in love. Azriel has never felt more helpless when he treks the wintery forests with Eris one day for no other reason than the fact he wants to- watching Eris scale a tree with a fire flickering beneath his feet. Eris shakes the tree, ice and snow falls on Azriel and he can only look in the same wonder as that first night. Eris slips, on purpose or on accident, and Azriel rushes forward to soften the other’s fall. The flash of lovely red hair again the pure snow, warm laughter ringing out and Eris as an anchor in his arms- Azriel has never been more helpless.

Or Eris, who plays along with the winter nobles, with the high lord and lady. By the end of the day, he’s exhausted with these games. He doesn’t want to play with the mask. In quiet moments of respite, he sits in the cozy libraries with a book and by the frosted windows. He never finishes a book because by the time he opens to the first page, writing appears in the frost. Telling him he looks stupid, telling him he looks like a pretentious fuck. Telling him that they’ll bring back liquorice tonight from the court’s premiere confectionary even though liquorice fucking sucks Eris. Eris will write back. They’ll spar with a thesaurus: brute, prick, pain in my ass, the bane of my existence, the death of me- and one day the frost answers back a word Eris doesn’t recognise. But he is in a library and he hunts down the answer and when he does, his ears are red all through dinner. It was too much effort, he thinks to himself when laying in bed with Azriel who sleeps soundly with a strong arm over Eris, too fight against this.