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fawn-eyed-girl · 10 months

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KuroLev #7 💋💋

Why, hello hello, my darling @neutronstarchild!! I am more than happy to indulge you with this mischievous pairing 😅 "A kiss to shut them up" seems absolutely perfect for them, honestly 💖

It got a little long, so I'm going to post the first part, and then the rest below the cut, for all the KuroLev kisses and fluff!

Tags: KuroLev, first kisses, humor, fluff, canon-ish, Kenma is a menace

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“Kuroo-san! Oh, Kuroo-san!”

Dammit. Tetsurō sighed as he rolled the volleyball cart around to his side of the net. He tried to ignore Lev, who was scurrying across the gym towards them, long, muscular legs carrying him much more quickly than he had a right to move. Tetsurō hid his blush at the sight of Lev, all long-limbed and attractive, with a frown, and cast a glance at Kenma, who just shrugged.

“I thought he was supposed to be your problem,” Tetsurō muttered.

Kenma flashed a rare smile. “Well,” he replied, watching Lev stumble their way, “looks like he’s your problem now.” He gave Tetsurō a wave as he walked away, his handheld already making its way back into his grip. “Later, Kuro.”

“Oh, Kenma-san!” Lev shouted as they crossed paths. “Aren’t you going to stay and practice with us?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Kenma deadpanned.

“Kenma!” Tetsurō shouted. “Oi, Kenma!”

“Kuroo-san!” Lev exclaimed; and nope, Tetsurō was definitely not looking at Lev’s big emerald eyes, which were currently sparkling at him. “Yaku-san said you were going to help me with blocking today.”

Damn that oni-senpai.

“I can’t help you with blocking, Lev,” Tetsurō said, “when we’re the only ones here.” He cast a glance at the gym doors, but Kenma had already left. He sighed. “How about we work on your receiving, instead?”

He saw Lev’s face light up, and Tetsurō cringed at how handsome he found Lev when he smiled.

Put that thought out of your head, Tetsurō. Let’s just focus on helping him with his receives.

It’s for the team…yes. All this time with Lev… It’s for the team.

“Kuroo-san! How do I position my arms to do the receive?” “Kuroo-san! How should I hold my feet?” “Kuroo-san! Do I hold my hands like…”

“Yes, Lev, just like that!” Tetsurō shouted. Honestly, they’d been practicing for ten minutes and it felt like ten years. He’d managed to get off just three serves: one hit Lev in the face, another in the knee, and one he missed entirely and dove for, only to eat the hardwood pretty badly. Tetsurō had actually worried about that one a little bit, but Lev seemed to be made of steel (or rubber), as he bounced right back up and announced he was fine.

And honestly? All the misses Tetsurō could handle. Because failing was how one got better.

“Kuroo-san! Why are my shoes sticking to the floor?” “Kuroo-san! Aren’t you gonna serve to me?” “Kuroo-san! Which side of the court should I stand on to receive your serve?”

It was the talking that Tetsurō couldn’t stand.

Because Lev talking… It was a distraction.

When Lev talked, Tetsurō just stared at his stupid, handsome face. With those shining eyes and that dumb, beautiful gray hair. And those cheekbones? Fuck, who had cheekbones like that?

But worst of all, when Lev talked… Tetsurō had to stare at Lev’s mouth.

At his perfect heart-shaped, mouth with those pink lips and…

“Lev.” Tetsurō was moving; when he’d started, he wasn’t really sure. He just knew that Lev was talking, and Tetsurō was annoyed.

“Oh, Kuroo-san!” Lev exclaimed, his eyes lighting up—stop fucking sparkling, Lev. “How come you’re over here? Aren’t you supposed to be serving from the other side of the net? Why are you—”

Tetsurō didn’t let Lev finish his sentence. Instead, he stepped into Lev’s space, where Tetsurō had to look up to see him, like what the hell, and then…

Tetsurō grabbed Lev, who was still talking, still mumbling about something, pulled him down, and slammed their mouths together in a deep, desperate kiss.

Lev groaned, and flailed, then groaned again, and Tetsurō took a second to revel in how Lev suddenly melted and became putty under his hands. He felt Lev melting into him, and yup, that was the time to break the kiss.

“There,” Tetsurō said, stepping back and wiping his mouth, “maybe now you’ll shut up and let me talk for a minute?”

Lev stood there, blinking, his lips glistening and swollen and Tetsurō felt a bit of pride, that he’d finally found a way to shut Lev up.

“K—Kuroo-san!” Lev exclaimed then. “Why did you do that? Am I doing a great job? Did you want to reward me? Because you’re a really great kisser, Kuroo-san, and I can’t believe that you would actually mmpphhmmfphh…”

Lev didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Tetsurō had pulled him back into another kiss, this one heated and forceful and this time, Lev’s hands wrapped around Tetsurō’s shoulders and yanked him closer and yup, Tetsurō definitely liked that.

Tetsurō let the kiss last a little longer, let his mouth move over Lev’s a little stronger, let his tongue play at the seam of Lev’s lips. And this time, when he broke the kiss, Lev’s whole face was shining, he was shaking, and Tetsurō smirked.

Maybe now…

“Uh, Kuroo-san?”

Fuck.

Lev looked at him from beneath darkened lashes. “If I keep talking, are you going to keep kissing me?”

Tetsurō felt his face break out into a devilish smirk.

“Sure, Lev,” he drawled, reaching for Lev and pulling him close. “You wanna keep talking? Just know that the punishment is gonna be a kiss for everytime that you talk.”

Lev’s cheeks bloomed a beautiful red. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I think I’d like to keep talking, a little longer.”

Tetsurō grinned. “I think that can be arranged,” he said.

From the Kissing Prompt Ask 💋

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #kurolev #kuroo x lev #kuroo tetsurou #haiba lev #kiss prompt asks #neutronstarchild #haikyuu rare pairs

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unboundprompts · 5 months

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hii ! could you please do a prompt list about enemies to lovers having their first kiss?

Enemies to Lovers First Kiss Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"Oh, God." He muttered, his heart dancing in his chest. "What did we just do."

She awkwardly laughed, breaking eye contact with them to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. "Got you," she said, though there was no humor in her voice. "You should have seen the look on your face."

They smirked, pulling away and taking in the look on his face. "What's the matter?" They asked innocently. "I didn't fluster you, did I?"

She didn't know why she did it. All she knew was that in that moment, while staring into his infuriating eyes and glancing down at his lips that were curled into a frown, she wanted to kiss him. And she'd be damned if she didn't get what she wanted.

Air rushed out of his lungs as he kissed them. He expected anger, maybe regret, but all he felt was satisfaction.

They put a hand on her chin as she began to pull away. She looked into their eyes. "Kiss me again," they muttered.

"Is this some kind of game to you?" She asked, anger in his words. "Are my feelings nothing but a silly little game to you?" He shook his head, the sensation of her lips on his still lingering on his skin. "Never," he told her. "I've been wanting to do that since we first met."

"If you're feeling brave," they teased, "you'll do it again."

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #otp prompts #prompt list #writeblr #ask box prompts #kiss prompts #romance prompts #angst prompts #enemies to lovers prompts #enemies to lovers

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dxckgrxsonx · 1 year

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"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader

Words - 900ish

Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing

Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.

Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.

He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.

“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”

“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”

“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.

“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”

It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.

You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.

It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.

You needed him and he knew it.

You need him now and he knows it.

There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.

Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.

“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”

He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.

Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.

Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.

“Say it.” Jason demands.

Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.

“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”

Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.

“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.

“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”

“Uh–plea–please.”

“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #asks #answered #birthofvcnus #friends 💕#smut prompts #also hi my darling!!#i love you so much #im giving you one thousand million kisses <3 #ella writes

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civetside · 12 days

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i was watching top 13 real crypid sightings on youtube with a friend at like 1AM last night and she said this to me and i drew it

#tlt #tlt shitposting #griddlehark #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb #sorry i havent made a comic in a while too ill be honest i just kinda ran out of ideas #feel free to send ideas and prompts 2 my ask box tombies love you kiss kiss #hits the griddy and goes crazy

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mcflymemes · 1 year

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DIFFERENT KINDS OF KISSES * send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt, nsfw implied

[ soothe ] sender kisses receiver to stop them from shaking

[ forehead ] sender tenderly kisses receiver's forehead

[ brief ] sender sneaks a kiss to receiver's cheek as they walk by

[ brow ] sender kisses the bridge of receiver's eyebrow

[ impossible ] sender kisses receiver as a final gesture, knowing they can't be together

[ hiding ] sender checks the area around them before kissing receiver, trying not to get caught

[ handful ] sender peppers the receiver's cheek with multiple, playful kisses

[ line ] sender draws a trail of kisses down the length of receiver's shoulderblade and up their neck

[ almost ] sender and receiver are centimeters apart, about to kiss, but something interrupts them

[ side ] sender places a kiss on the side of receiver's nose

[ tip ] sender kisses the tip of receiver's nose

[ underside ] sender leans in and places a suggestive kiss just under receiver's jawline

[ giggle ] sender starts tickling and kissing the receiver all over in order to make them laugh

[ knuckle ] sender lifts receiver's hand to their lips and places a polite kiss there

[ last ditch ] right before receiver leaves for battle, sender rushes into their arms and kisses them desperately

[ the middle ] in the midst of a battle, sender steals a second alone with receiver and kisses them to reassure them

[ dreamy ] sender and receiver indulge in a handful of slow, romantic kisses

[ darkness ] sender and receiver makeout in a completely dark room

[ ear ] sender nuzzles and kisses receiver's ear

[ recline ] sender climbs ontop of receiver and steals a kiss

[ lazy ] sender kisses receiver to wake them up from a comfortable sleep

[ dramatics ] as sender and receiver argue back and forth, sender launches forward and kisses receiver to stop the fight

[ distance ] across a large space, sender blows receiver a kiss

[ hold ] sender and receiver are hugging, and sender kisses receiver on the cheek in a tender display

[ regret ] sender and receiver start to kiss, but sender backs away in the middle of it, knowing it's a bad idea

[ reunion ] thinking they'd never see each other again, sender and receiver are reunited and run into each other's arms, sharing a kiss

[ inner ] in a heated moment, sender trails kisses along receiver's inner thigh

[ lovebite ] in the midst of kissing receiver's neck, sender changes tactics and gives them a tender little bite

[ greeting ] sender and receiver greet each other with kisses to both cheeks in quick succession

[ bunny ] sender gives receiver a bunny kiss by rubbing their noses together back and forth

[ supportive ] sender kisses the top of receiver's head

[ fingertips ] sender places light kisses to each of receiver's fingertips

[ tongue ] sender and receiver indulge in a heavy makeout that involves tongue

[ first time ] sender leans in and kisses receiver for the first time

[ final ] sender and receiver share a kiss for the very last time, and they know it's their last

[ storm ] caught in the midst of a torrential downpour, sender can't help but close the distance and kiss receiver in the rain

[ scar ] sender sees one of receiver's scars for the first time and gently kisses it

[ desperate ] the situation is dire, and sender can't stop themselves from rushing forward and crushing receiver into an aggressive, frantic kiss

[ tend ] while tending to receiver's wounds, sender gives receiver a reassuring kiss

[ stolen ] sender and receiver cross paths and can't resist ducking into a safe place to makeout before they carry on with their day

[ irresistable ] sender taunts receiver by easing closer, promising a kiss, and then backing away, making receiver chase their lips

[ lipstick ] sender is wearing lipstick, and uses that fact to mark receiver with a few lipstick stains

[ chest ] sender removes receiver's shirt and immediately rushes forward to kiss their chest

[ shivering ] sender places small kisses all over receiver's stomach

[ fake ] sender and receiver pretend to be a couple and are forced to kiss each other to blend in

[ maybe ] sender and receiver are best friends and experiment with a kiss to see where it goes

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halvedslab · 2 months

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For the mwarch request could you possibly do 21 with Scar and Grian?👉👈Maybe Scar is talking about Star Wars too much???

21. A kiss to shut them up

"Don't put me on hold again..........!!!!!!!!"

#scarian #hermitshipping #hermitcraft s10 #goodtimeswithscar #grian #TY for the request!! I know you said star wars but I wasn't really sure how to represent that so I went with permit office shenanigans #ask box #mwarch: kiss prompts #my sketches

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askgametime · 1 year

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send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet!

❤️ first kiss / realization

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

💛 reunion kiss / relief

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

#ask games #ask game #prompt ask game #fic writer ask game #fic writer ask games #mine #ship ask game #kisses

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heynhay · 10 months

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*fnaf kids cheering noise*

#klance #vld #voltron #THANK YOU FOR ALL THE INCREDIBLE PROMPTS NICO HOLY FUCK. I THINK WE ARE THE SAME PERSON #BECAUSE I LOVED EACH AND EVERY ONE #thats why i didnt use your ask to post this bc i wanted to save the rest for later teehee #no wonder you're a writer your head is full of such smart thoughts #really appreciated the sfx too #art #my art #ask #the almost-kiss is one of my fav art tropes like. ever #on the other hand if any of my irls ever find this i'll have to throw myself off a bridge but thats like. a future problem.#this one actually looks decent instead of the rest of my scrawl bc i used a reference. FOR ONCE.

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scholastic-dragon · 1 year

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Hello, love! Hope you're doing okay! 💞

I would like "Learning how to kiss together" with Donnie, please? Female reader, of you will! 💜

I love your writing, so I have faith you will do great!

Oh this is such a Donnie prompt

For you friend, absolutely <3

Bay!Donnie x Fem!reader

Private Lessons

Warnings: i went ham, spelling mistakes, Donnie and reader are over 18 in this, don't be weird there are no minors here, smooth!donnie, smootches, making out, slightly feral donnie,

The situation shouldn't have been as hot as it was.

Your boyfriend was a literal genius, and he lived for giving random fun facts and bouts of knowledge whenever he could.

But there was one large subject that your beloved boyfriend knew almost nothing about.

So when he asked you, in the sweetest (and slightly dirty) way, if you could teach him how to kiss, it made your knees wobble.

Not that they were doing any better right now. Pressing into the sides of his custom-built computer chair, straddling his lap as he- for lack of better words- ate you alive.

It started with shy looks, flushed faces, and his dorky smile. Soft hands cupping the side of your face and warm pecks. But now, you were both panting heavily, hands scrambling all over each other, teeth, tongue, and all sorts of nasty things melting between your body heat.

His hands gripped and massaged your skin, at some point he pulled away to beg if he could touch you. At your nod, his hands dipped under the fabric of your shirt, soft warm touches that made your skin break out in goosebumps.

His hands traveled up your sides, stopping at your ribs, his fingers teasing the sides of your bra. His thumbs traced the skin beneath your breast, making you whimper and moan into his mouth.

Not wanting to push any boundaries, his hands traveled south to your hips and behind.

Your hands couldn't stay still, his skin felt hot and the texture of it against yours was sending your brain into overdrive. Traveling across his thick shoulders to his muscled arms, then down the smooth plates of his plastron.

You couldn't get enough of him.

Feeling your lungs couldn't take anymore, you yanked back, breathing like you had just run a marathon. He didn't hesitate to lean forward, licking hot strips up the side of your neck, nipping at your ear lobe.

The chair creaked in protest at your movements, Donnie pulled you back, stretching out his body, but not giving you more than five inches of space.

"Christ, Don, are you sure you need lessons?" You breathlessly laugh, hands rubbing circles on your shoulders, touching the sensitive skin where his shell met.

"What can I say?" One hand gipped your hip, grinding your hips onto his, pulling you further toward him. "I'm a fast learner,"

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @happymoonangel @dilucsflame33 @mysticboombox @sketch-and-write-lover @leosgirl82 @m1dnyt3-w0lf @tmnt-tychou @eveandtheturtles @sharpwindow

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #kisses prompt list #it is my works #thanks for the ask!#dilucsflame33

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 6 months

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Ahhhh I love those kiss prompts!!

What about 29 for Poe except the force drawing them together is literally the force wielded by someone tired of watching two people dance around each other?

Send me a kiss prompt!

This idea is so fricking CUTE!

Prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force

"Would you knock it off?" You groaned as you felt Poe pressed against your side again.

"You knock it off!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Well, neither am I!" Poe argued. You scowled, scooching away from him on the bench for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. It just kept happening. Every few moments, you felt this nudge, and then found yourself closer to Poe than you had been just moments ago.

You began to feel it again, and you grasped the edge of the canteena table, trying to keep yourself in one spot, grimacing as you were pushed along the bench.

"No—No nononono—Damnit," You hissed as you were pressed into Poe's side.

"Cut it out!"

"I'm not doing anything!" You swore, looking at him. Your stomach flipped at his clenched jaw, gaze sweeping from his lips, up to his eyes. Poe's chest heaved with tight breaths, his gaze lowering to your eyes in turn.

What was he...

Your stomach flipped as you saw Poe lean closer, and felt a press against the back of your head.

"I'm not doing this," Poe shook his head.

"No, I'm not either."

"Then stop."

"I can't!"

"Neither can I—!"

The two of you went quiet as your lips met. Your eyes widened slightly at the feeling of his lips slipping against yours, his tongue swiping across your lips. Your eyes closed after a moment, the force dropping away from your head, replaced by Poe's hand. You sighed softly, pressing into his side—on purpose, this time.

"Took them long enough," Finn muttered, watching Rey lower her hand, "Thanks."

"I don't mind," She shrugged, smiling. "I'm happy to practice."

#Poe Dameron x Reader #Poe Dameron x You #Poe Dameron/Reader #Poe Dameron/You #Poe Dameron fic #Poe Dameron imagine #Kiss prompts #asks #replies

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tennessoui · 3 months

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Hey I hope you're having a good day! I'm sure you've already got a handful of prompts but how about *shakes magic 8-ball* number 17, meeting at a party whilst drunk au!

hello thank you for sending this in!! i'm still working down my list of prompts, and this one is: meeting at a party whilst drunk

i took some liberties with the prompt here though, so really this is meeting (again after a long time) at a party whilst drunk

(2.8k) (gffa, anakin leaves the order after the war au)

Usually, Obi-Wan is better about this sort of thing. It is, after all, a matter of utmost importance. It’s a matter of survival.

Usually, when he receives an invitation to an event, he does not commit himself to going until he can complete some reconnaissance about the other guests invited. Until he knows beyond a reasonable doubt that Anakin Skywalker, ex-Jedi and current husband to Senator Amidala, will not be in attendance.

It is much better this way. For everyone involved, really, but especially for Obi-Wan and his poor fool’s heart. It is much better if they keep an entire planet between themselves these days—preferably multiple planets. Preferably half a galaxy.

But this is a retirement party for Bail, and Obi-Wan cannot miss it. His old friend deserves better than that, better than Obi-Wan’s cowardice getting in the way of a celebration of his decades-long career in the Senate.

So he accepts the invitation without researching the guest list. He thinks—he hopes—that in the past nine years, Anakin Skywalker’s intense dislike of Bail Organa has not waned. Anakin, when Obi-Wan knew him, when he was Obi-Wan’s—Obi-Wan’s padawan—had a tendency to make a snap judgement about someone and never change his opinion.

His hatred had been like an impenetrable wall, unchanging and immovable.

His love had ebbed and flowed, drowned out by his anger or his irritation, coming in great waves when he was in a fine mood and resembling a desert’s drought when he was upset.

But his hatred had always been unshakable once assigned. The very first time Obi-Wan saw it in Anakin’s eyes when he looked at him, a year after he left the Order and the last time they'd seen each other, he’d known for a fact that he’d lost him. That the love had dried up and gone and that it would never return. It’d felt like watching Anakin leave the Temple all over again, like a hand clenched around his heart squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

So he hopes that Anakin has chosen not to attend Bail’s retirement party. Oh, he knows that Anakin’s wife is here, and he has already downed two flutes of sparkling wine to prepare himself for the sight of her looking resplendent across the ballroom, but he hopes that Anakin has chosen to stay home instead of wasting an evening fawning over a man he never liked in the first place.

Besides, someone should look after the children. They’re nine now, Obi-Wan knows. If they are anything like Anakin was at that age, they must need constant supervision. And he has already seen Senator Amidala once tonight from afar, knows that she is here amongst the party-goers.

He tightens his grip on his fourth flute of wine and turns his attention back to his conversation partner.

It is rather rude to be so preoccupied in the midst of a conversation with another, but Obi-Wan is an old man now and a war hero. He’s allowed to get away with much more these days than he could in the past.

“Yes, I admit the Jedi Order still has far to go in order to rebuild itself,” he says, mind torn between the small talk and the drink in his hand. These sorts of conversations are easy to have. Yes, the war took a lot out of the Jedi Order. Yes, we are still working through the damages and the trauma. Yes, it’s been ten years since, but sometimes it feels as if it was only yesterday. Yes, sometimes it feels as if I am still fighting.

And then—

Then the woman he is talking to grows bold. She rests her hand on his forearm, the one that is holding the flute of wine, and steps closer.

And in the Force, there is a rumbling of pure, visceral hatred, the sort Obi-Wan has only ever felt in the air a few times.

The sort that is achingly, distressingly familiar.

He turns his head, even though he knows he should not look. He knows looking will take him out at the knees. He knows he may never recover if he looks.

He turns his head and he looks anyway. There, across the room, standing to the left of a load bearing pillar is the drawn and furious face of Anakin Skywalker, ex-Jedi, ex-padawan.

Obi-Wan’s first thought is that he looks older, though he realizes a moment later how absolutely inane that is. Of course he looks older. It has been nine years since he really talked to him, eight years since he last saw him, and he has tried to avoid any news or photos about the man at all. In his mind, he is still as he was in those days and months following the end of the war. But logically, he knows that the time has passed, that not even the Chosen One is immune to aging.

Anakin’s hair is streaked with shoots of silver. It’s short now, cropped close to his head though still curling as much as he lets it. His face is worn, wrinkled in different, unfamiliar places. He is wearing finery befitting that of a senator’s husband, the color of a midnight sky.

It is strangely comforting to see him dressed in the same colors he has worn since he was a youngling in Obi-Wan’s care. If he were wearing white or, or green or pink, then Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’d be able to recognize him at all.

“Are you quite alright, Master Kenobi?” the woman asks, words filtering in through the static noise in Obi-Wan’s head.

No. Of course he is not alright.

Yes. He is better than alright. He feels as if his head has broken the surface of the water he’s been trapped under for the past nine years. He feels as if the sight of Anakin Skywalker is a sip of water when he’s on the brink of dehydration.

“You know actually I am not sure,” he tells her, which is overly personal and not at all what he’d meant to say. But that is what the sight of Anakin Skywalker does these days. It throws him off, makes him loose-tongued and off-centered.

Fuck, he thinks once, viciously.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he tells her, carefully separating himself from her touch and taking a step away. She looks disappointed almost immediately, and Obi-Wan should care about the image he’s making, how impolite he is being, but he has bigger concerns right now.

Anakin Skywalker is here.

“Enjoy your evening,” he adds as he raises his flute of wine to his lips and drains it in one go. “Unfortunately, I’m going to go get incredibly drunk.”

“Uh,” the woman says, but Obi-Wan is already gone. He can’t—he can’t stay. Not in this room, not under the weight of Anakin Skywalker’s stare.

Thank the Force he started the night by giving his congratulations and warm regard to Bail. If things turn sour, he’ll be able to slip away with only minimal rudeness.

And, if he’s being quite honest, things have already soured beyond the point of salvation.

But instead of leaving—instead of slipping out the room and running back to the Temple, tail between his legs, he stays. Inexplicably, he grabs another flute of wine from a passing server and retreats to a balcony.

Fresh air will sober him up, he thinks, even as he downs half the flute.

He should leave, he thinks, even as he stays.

He should leave—but he cannot bring himself to. Anakin is here and it’s Obi-Wan’s worst nightmare and it’s the only thing he’s desired for the past nine years.

Barely a minute passes before the balcony door opens behind him. Obi-Wan keeps his eyes pinned to the city-scape around them.

“Occupied,” he says, even though he knows who it is. Even though he knows the word is useless. Anakin will not leave until he wants to.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says. Just his name, just three syllables.

Obi-Wan downs the rest of the flute. “Anakin,” he says, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself before he turns to look at him.

Oh, he wishes he could blame the alcohol for how beautiful he finds him, but he knows that’s just some dark and twisted part of himself, some sinful and perverted aspect of his soul he has never been able to scrub clean.

“How are you?” He says, because he cannot let Anakin speak first. If he lets Anakin speak first, there will be a diplomatic incident, surely. If he lets Anakin speak first, Anakin will control the conversation—Anakin will tear through all of his shields and land on his sorest, most vulnerable spots. “How are the children?” “Do you even know their names?” Anakin spits back, eyebrows drawn dark and heavy over his expression. His face is flushed. He must have been drinking as well. “How old they are? Do not ask after my children as if you care about them at all, Obi-Wan—I know you don’t!”

“Luke,” Obi-Wan says. “Leia.”

Oh, he wishes Anakin were right. He wishes he didn’t know a damn thing about them, about him, about the life he lives now. One completely separate and void of Obi-Wan.

Anakin probably does not notice his absence. After all, he has a wife, two children. A part-time job, if Bail can be believed. He wonders if he still meditates facing the wrong way, back to the sun, and suddenly his heart feels so tight he can hardly breathe through the pain.

Anakin sneers. “Whatever,” he says and reaches into the folds of his robes to pull out a silver flask. He raises it to his lips and takes a swig, rubbing a hand over his mouth when he’s done, capping it and sliding back into his robes.

It is the alcohol that loosens his tongue, Obi-Wan knows it. Obi-Wan understands that he has had too much to drink tonight to be standing before Anakin Skywalker now, that anything that comes out of his mouth will be something he regrets in the morning.

But does it really matter? How could it matter? Anakin Skywalker was his whole life for a decade and a few years, and then he left. And now a decade has passed. In five years, he will have spent longer missing him than he spent loving him. What does a few words matter now?

Obi-Wan has already lost everything. He is already made of regret.

“I don’t know why you insist on acting so hatefully,” he says. “You left.”

He means, of course, that if anyone should hate anyone here, it is Obi-Wan’s right to hate Anakin.

Impossible, as it were, but his right. Anakin left.

Obi-Wan asked him to stay.

“You kissed me,” Anakin spits back.

And yes, alright. He kissed him as well.

His fingers itch for another flute of wine. Perhaps a swallow of the flask in Anakin’s robes. Anything. Anything to dull the white-hot ache of this conversation. Anything to escape these consequences.

“Nine years ago,” he says, quietly. “It’s been nine years, Anakin.”

Let it go.

He hadn’t—he really hadn’t meant to kiss him. It had been—a foolish mistake, something that had happened late at night, a few months after the end of the war, and they had been in Obi-Wan’s quarters, drinking and talking and Anakin had said something about leaving the Order, and Obi-Wan had said something about him staying, and Anakin had said, Padmé is pregnant, and Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan had kissed him.

A foolish mistake, made only survivable by the way that, for a handful of precious seconds, Anakin had kissed him back.

Before the yelling, the hatred, the anger. The leaving. Before all of that, Anakin had kissed him back.

“I have already apologized, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, exhausted, and his eyes cut away from Anakin, turn back to the city. “I have thought of that moment countless times–-and I cannot begin to explain what came over me, what I was thinking at the time.”

He just—he hadn’t wanted Anakin to leave. Had thought that perhaps if he could—if he could give Anakin himself in all the ways one person could devote themselves to another, then maybe it would be enough. Maybe he would stay.

A foolish hope, one that Obi-Wan should have known better than to entertain even for a moment.

“I have thought of it too,” Anakin says. He clears his throat. He lurches forward, unsteady on his feet. His hand comes into contact with Obi-Wan’s arm, glove on sleeve. Thank the Force for the layers still in between them.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and the truth is that he means it as much as he does not. He is sorry for taking the brotherhood and friendship between them and shattering it. He is sorry that he kissed Anakin, that he hastened his leave.

But he is not sorry for knowing how his lips felt against his own. How he tasted.

Obi-Wan is a lonely old man, despite the family he has surrounded himself with at the Temple. Despite his new padawan that he has been training for the past eight years. Despite the trips he takes to see his retired men, Cody and the 212th scattered across the galaxy. Despite all the ways he fills his days, all the people he meets and talks to and trains with, he is still lonely. There is still a hole in his heart, a space that Anakin used to occupy.

“I have thought of it every day since,” Anakin says, repeating himself in that way drunkards do when they have forgotten they already started the same sentence a moment before.

“I’m—”

“It has haunted me,” Anakin says. His voice is sharp and angry and Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes and shy away from it. Obi-Wan, who has faced down Separatists and sith lords and blaster fire, wants to turn tail and hide. Retreat. Retreat.

Anakin’s voice turns—darker, wilder. His hand tightens and he tugs, just hard enough that it overbalances Obi-Wan. “I am haunted by the kiss you never should have given me.”

“Had I known you were married, I never would have—”

“You ruined it,” Anakin snaps. “You ruined my marriage!”

“I…” Obi-Wan’s throat clicks, words drying out. “What?”

“We filed for separation months ago,” Anakin says. His eyes are dark; he is holding his arm so tightly that it hurts. “Joint custody of the children, but a formal divorce. Amicable.”

Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if he can speak at all.

“It wouldn’t have been amicable if she knew though,” Anakin says. He takes a step forward. Obi-Wan gives ground. He does not know how else to fight Anakin. “If she knew what I thought about when I retreated from her touch. If she knew what—who—drove me from our bed every night to walk through our house like a ghost wandering the halls.”

“If your marriage ended over a kiss I gave you nine years ago, then it is hardly my fault,” Obi-Wan says, putting his hand on Anakin’s chest to keep distance between them. When did they become so close? This is much too close. Obi-Wan can smell Anakin’s soap, his sweat. The alcohol on his breath.

“But it is,” Anakin insists, unable still it seems to take his share of the blame and make his peace with it. “It is, because I spent half my life in love with you, then I finally commit to someone else—allow myself to look and love and appreciate someone else’s beauty—and then you kiss me, as if I have not already sworn loyalty to another! As if I could be yours to kiss! As if I still was!”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, unable to do more. “It was a kiss, Anakin, it was—I assure you, I am not such a good kisser that I can be blamed for your failed marriage when it was nine years ago!”

“Then you do not remember it as well as I do,” Anakin murmurs, and now—now the rage has turned darker, heady. His eyes catch and hold onto Obi-Wan’s lips. His eyes are more black than blue. His face is flushed. He is—so handsome. So beautiful still, after all of these years. “Let me refresh your memory,” he says, and Obi-Wan—

Obi-Wan is weak when it comes to Anakin. He always has been. He is so weak. And he needs—he needs so much. He makes a sound, something embarrassingly small and desperate, and then Anakin is kissing him and it feels like being sliced open and like coming home, all at the same time.

Like how it felt when he returned to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon after his master had died—a homecoming, but at what cost? A death and a birth, all at the same time. He had lingered in the doorway that first time, unable to push himself across and into quarters that felt both strange and familiar.

It had been Anakin, a small boy still, who had grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside.

Still now, even all these years later, Obi-Wan closes his eyes and allows himself to follow Anakin’s lead.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #angstyyyyy #in my mind they kissed nine years ago and anakin left the order like basically the next day #and then they saw each other rouhgly a year later #and it was tense but not like quite so hatefilled #and then anakin finds out obi-wan got a new padawan and that steps on like ten thousand issues #aided by the distance theyre both trying to put between them then #and so anakin falls back on hatred and obi-wan falls back on trying his best to ignore the problem #by ignoring anakin #because after all #anakin left. obi-wan asked him to stay. and anakin made his decision #obi-wan is just respecting it

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crazy-ache · 1 month

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Hello😙 Im here to request 17

(Wouldn’t mind if it gets smutty) (tag me if you’re already writing it)

17...to distract

Get it off me.

The singular thought pounded with every beat of her heart, reverberating under the walls of her skin. Get it off me. Elain repeated the command in her mind over and over again, loud enough that it drowned out his unexpected words from her memory. “This was a mistake,” he had told her before winnowing away into the shadows, as he always did.

As she raced up the stairs of the river house, away from the humiliation she had endured down below on the Solstice night, all she could feel was Azriel’s damn rose necklace choking her neck. She pumped her legs faster and faster in hopes of outrunning the tears pricking at her eyes and the sob building up in her chest; she needed to get to her room before the emotions escaped her, before anyone else could find her.

Her chest heaved—a warning of the inevitable. A tidal wave was inside her with nowhere to crash. Elain’s hand clutched the final wooden bannister, her feet shakily meeting the landing. Her room was just to the right of the stairs. All she had to do was make one more turn.

Except he was there. As if he had been waiting.

The awareness of his presence was instantaneous. Her momentum halted and with a slow turn of her head to the left, she saw Lucien standing outside his door in the hallway, his red hair nearly molten by the window’s soft moonlight. Of course he was here, as he had spent the night after the Solstice celebrations. Even in the darkness, she could see the gold of his mechanical eye, the sharp line of his jaw. Lucien said nothing as he studied her, which told her the truth she should have known—he knew exactly what had occured with the Shadowsinger just a floor below.

She took in his unreadable expression that cautiously appraised her. But did he really know?

That it was his fault she needed to distract herself with the Shadowsinger in the first place? That his very presence demanded to feed the primal beast that laid dormant inside her core, only awoken by the call of her mate.

To be wanted, to be liked, to be kissed, even temporarily...it was just to satiate the desire.

And so his rejection had stung, a sharp slap to the face, still burning as she beheld her mate at the end of the hallway. Her mate. Undoubtedly the reason underscored in Azriel’s declaration of his so-called mistake. And now the reason she was left once again with nothing but that near damning wanting that threatened to eat her alive.

The thought alone released the waiting tidal wave inside her chest. Elain grasped at the necklace, her other hand attempting to cover the sob wrenched from her throat. And finally, those words echoing inside found her voice. “Get—it—off—me!” She gasped, desperate to find enough air to fill her lungs before another cry shook her body.

For whatever it was worth, Lucien abided her command. He reached her in three long strides, where he stood behind her, two strong hands taking her by the shoulders. “Breathe,” he whispered, his grip and words steadying her trembles. “Breathe, Elain.”

There was a resounding beat of a drum. Lucien’s heartbeat.

With a soft touch, he pushed her thick hair to the side, his warm hands grazing the nape of her neck as he undid the necklace clasp with careful precision. It was barely there, but his hands gave her the urge to confess everything to him—that Azriel’s hands hadn’t come close to the way he felt. That Azriel’s scarred touch was a salve to the burn that the mating bond left her. And Lucien’s touch was the flame itself.

The cold chain left her skin and she could finally breathe, a sharp gasp filling her chest. She felt Lucien turn her, forcing her feet to move, until she faced him directly. Their faces were only inches apart and it was perhaps the closest they had ever stood.

She wanted to find the same anger mirrored on his face. She wanted to witness his hurt and confusion and jealousy she had assumed he would harbor against her. But it wasn’t there. Only something softer and kinder laid behind his gaze in comfort.

"It will pass," Lucien whispered, his eyes finding hers. Kinder than she deserved. "You will be alright."

Something about his words unleashed her. Elain could not hold herself up anymore, could not repress what was building up inside her. She threw her arms around his neck in an embrace, the tears sliding from her shut eyes. He tensed momentarily before snaking his arms around her waist, firm but gentle.

Elain could not stop.

Without an ounce of control, she dragged her nose along the column of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply, her fingers digging into his back. She didn't know what she was doing but she needed to fill her lungs with him. The scent alone made her head feel like a drunken haze. The only thing she recognized in that moment was the nervous flutter of his heartbeat in the pulse of his neck.

At her realization of what she had just done, Elain shuddered.

"It's only natural," Lucien blurted out.

”There is nothing natural about this," Elain hissed, stepping angrily back, away from his warm body, her skin crying out at the loss. "There is nothing natural about wanting you when I do not know you. There is nothing natural about dreaming of you constantly,”

But Lucien did not mirror her. Did not back down. In fact, he stepped closer. "Then look me in the eyes and tell me the truth—does this feel wrong?” He ran his knuckles across her cheek, and where their flesh met sang for mercy.

He was right and she knew. Gods, did she know it.

"I can't do this anymore," Elain breathed, glancing between the necklace and her mate. Lucien's face splintered into a frown.

And she hated that look on his face so much, Elain could do nothing but surge forward, her lips finding his own. She wasn't ready for this but she needed the distraction, needed to feed the starving, longing, yearning burn coiling at her core. She couldn't keep fighting. Not tonight.

When they kissed, it was fire meeting fire. When he touched her, he could have burned the entire city down with his heat. And when Elain's tongue crashed into his, there was only one certainty—this wouldn't be the end.

@bettdraws so sorry there is no smut but I gave u angst

Kiss prompts.

#OOPS NO SMUT #IM SORRY #MAYBE I WILL POST A SECOND PART TOMORRW #I took this one too seriously lmaooooo #elucien #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #ask game #kiss prompts

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keklordkaotic · 23 days

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must I say more, fool . Transformers go go comic. You. draw evil drawings. all blame will be put on you and not me.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you REALLY want, o’ sibling, mine. You’re LUCKY I’m interpreting this request as something along the lines of ‘draw me a dinotrap comic’ and not ‘redraw this exact comic page with zero alterations.’

Well, after much toil and suffering on my part, here it is. I’m shit at paneling comics, but screw it. I considered coloring this but that would take me a few extra days and this has already taken me a hot minute to complete.

Panel by panel under the cut:

#rattrap fucking dies #surprise kissing the guy with ten inch claws who may or may not know what a kiss even is probably isn’t a good idea #ripbozo #ask #send me asks #ask prompt #art prompt #my art #art #transformers art #transformers #maccadam #transformers rattrap #rattrap #transformers dinobot #dinobot #dinotrap #transformers beast wars #beast wars

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halvedslab · 2 months

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You gotta do 10 with ethubs

10. A bloody kiss

Obviously had to draw vhau... Fellas! Is it gay to kiss your own blood out of your vampire boyfriend's mouth

#ethubs #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #hermitshipping #suggestive #cw blood #ask box #does this count as a kiss? well #vampire hunter AU #mwarch: kiss prompts #my sketches

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da-proti-toku-grem · 9 days

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17 Jance mayhaps (if you already did it I'm sorry, I love ur style and reading your prompts!!)

Thank you so much 🥰. I think I've officially lost the battle with my “I'm keeping these short” thoughts because this is almost 1.8k oops 😅.

As always, ao3 link at the bottom if you prefer to read it there <3

(Rating: Mature)

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

17. … to distract.

“Please, Nacko,” Jan begged from his place on the couch.

Knowing that they had an interview the next morning, Nace had offered Jan to stay at his house. After all, it was no secret that the guitarist was by no means a morning person and, being the one who lived closest to where the interview would take place, it seemed only reasonable to offer him a place to sleep without the need to drive from Vrhnika to Ljubljana in the early morning.

And maybe – and just maybe – something inside his chest was also tickling under the pretext of seeing Jan's gorgeous face when Nace inevitably woke up before him, his features relaxed and his hair tousled. No one needed to know that, though. He was more than willing to take the secret to his grave. It wasn't like someone like Jan would ever look at him that way, anyways.

Once they arrived at the apartment, Nace offered Jan a glass of wine. The bassist himself didn't drink anymore, but he liked to always have something to offer to his guests – in this case, a bottle of red wine.

And that's how they had gotten to this situation, Jan sitting cross-legged on the couch, an empty glass on the small table in front of him and looking up in the direction of Nace, who was standing on the other side of the table, with his pajamas already on and holding the bottle in his hand.

“I've already told you, Jan,” he said, a hint of tiredness in his voice. “You know that on any other occasion I wouldn't mind you drinking more, but we have an interview tomorrow and we can't risk you having a raging hangover because you drank the whole bottle of wine by yourself.”

“...Please?” Jan asked again, pouting and looking up at him with those beautiful dark puppy eyes that had no right to be so adorable. That, combined with the fact that his improvised pajamas were his boxer shorts and one of Nace's old t-shirts that was definitely too big on him – the length reaching almost halfway down his thighs and the collar being so wide that it left one of his shoulders exposed, as well as a bit of his chest hair – was definitely not helping Nace keep his thoughts pure.

He thought about how his hands would feel exploring the skin under the t-shirt or pulling on those gorgeous black locks, how he'd look up at him with his big brown eyes just like that while Nace fucked his mouth, taking it all like the good boy he knew he could be; how he’d love to kiss and bite and mark that exposed skin on his shoulder and neck until everyone knew who he belonged to, how he'd beg even prettier for Nace to touch him, to make him feel good; how he'd look all sweaty and ruined with his head thrown back, moaning Nace's name at the peak of his pleasure as he pounded into that sweet spot inside him over and over and-

Nace really needed to stop his train of thoughts right there before this ended in a terribly embarrassing situation.

“I'm sorry, okay?” He smiled at him apologetically, setting the bottle down on the table as he took a seat on the other side of the couch, hoping the other didn't notice the slight blush he felt creeping up his cheeks. “I know you probably don't want to go to sleep yet so… anything else you want to-”

The question died on the bassist's lips as he suddenly felt Jan straddle his thighs, resting his hands gently on his chest.

Nace simply remained still, his body a bit tense and his eyes wide open in surprise. He still didn't look at the guitarist's face, a million questions running through his mind when all of a sudden the weight of the younger man in his lap and the burning touch of his hands on his chest clouded his senses.

Eventually, he dared to look up, finding Jan's eyes, those eyes that made Nace's knees go weak and that accompanied him in his most sinful fantasies, looking back at him with that smirk he always had plastered on his face when he had an idea. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nace had fallen right into his trap.

“Hello there, Mr. Jordan,” Jan said, his deep voice reverberating in Nace's brain, as his hands went up to cup his cheeks.

He didn't respond, his own hands moving to Jan's thighs, over his t-shirt, while his eyes were flicking from the other's eyes to his lips and then up again and oh how much he'd like to send it all to hell and close the distance between them and-

Before he knew it, Jan's lips were on his.

Nace didn't move his hands, the uncertainty of not knowing how far Jan was willing to take this surpassing the urge to touch every single part of the other's body; but he started to reciprocate the kiss, taking everything Jan had to give him and trying to burn it into his memory, almost as if he was afraid that it was all a dream product of his treacherous imagination and he might wake up at any moment.

Their lips moved slowly against each other, his mouth opening in a silent invitation that Jan didn't hesitate to take, tongues dancing together in a rhythm known only to them.

Everything was so sultry, so sensual, so… Jan. It was intoxicating. And Nace didn't think he would ever get enough of this.

All too soon, the guitarist broke the kiss, pulling away completely and taking his place back on the couch. Nace immediately missed the warmth of his body pressing against his own.

“W-what was that for?” he asked after a few seconds, trying to sound nonchalant despite the deep blush he felt covering his face.

“Nothing,” Jan shrugged. “Can't I just kiss my really hot friend?”

At that, Nace looked up, meeting that mischievous grin before his gaze finally fell on the bottle that had somehow ended up in Jan's hands. Little shit.

“Oh hell no, come here,” he tugged at his arm and in one swift motion took the bottle from him, setting it safely on the table, and took him back into his lap, making him let out a surprised gasp.

“Well, I guess this will do too,” Jan smirked, moving his arms up to wrap them around Nace's neck, tangling his hands in the soft curls at the nape of his neck and drawing him into another kiss.

Nace didn't hold back this time, all the blood he had been trying to suppress from traveling south now rushed to his cock as his hands began to caress the body of the man on top of him.

The touch of his cold hands against the warm skin of his thighs sent a shiver down Jan's spine. Nace's hands traveled up his thighs, slowly slipping under his shirt until they reached his waist, grabbing it and moving his body so they could start grinding against each other.

Deep groans escaped their mouths the moment both of their already half-hard dicks brushed against each other, making them break the kiss, their foreheads pressed against one another as they breathed heavily into each other's mouths.

Without halting his movements, Nace leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Did you just want to distract me so you could get another glass or are you just a horny little slut, baby?”, catching the lobe between his teeth to emphasize his words before starting a trail of open-mouthed kisses and little nibbles along his jaw and neck.

The sound the younger man let out and the way Jan's hips jerked forward of their own accord, beginning to grind down more desperately, told Nace everything he needed to know.

It was still fun to tease him, though.

“I need words, honey. Or do you want me to stop?” he said teasingly. As if you'd be able to stop now that you finally have what you've been dreaming about for so long, the rational part of his brain told him.

“Please don’t stop.” Jan whined. “F-fuck, God knows how long I've been waiting for this.”

That sound, that plea, the meaning those words entailed all sent an electric jolt straight to Nace's cock. He sounded so beautifully desperate and– God. Jan Peteh was going to be the death of him.

“Oh yeah? Do I make you hard, baby?” he punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust of his hips.

“So damn much, you have no idea. Fuck, have you seen yourself?”

Jan buried his face in Nace's neck, exploring his skin with his lips and teeth, careful not to leave marks in a place that would be visible during the interview and paying special attention to discover the bassist's most sensitive spots. Nace tilted his head to the side to grant him more access.

Neither of them could stop the soft little noises escaping their mouths, getting increasingly louder as Nace's hands started to roam all over the younger's back. They came to a stop at his ass, cupping Jan's cheeks over his boxers and pulling him even closer.

The increased pressure on his crotch caused the guitarist to pull away from Nace's neck, throwing his head back and exposing his throat as a sinful moan escaped his lips. It was probably the most erotic thing Nace had ever seen in his entire life.

However, as heavenly as the dry humping felt, Nace wanted – needed – more. He needed to feel skin on skin with the man that had been occupying his every thought ever since he officially joined the band.

He slowly licked a strip up his deliciously exposed throat, a smug smile spreading across his face at the shudder that ran through Jan's body.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom, kitten?” he asked, his deep voice accompanied with a little squeeze on his ass making Jan blush furiously.

Instead of answering, Jan smashed their lips together in a hungry, passionate kiss.

Nace took that as a yes, placing his hands under Jan's thighs and lifting them both off the couch to start the short walk to his room, grinning into the kiss when he felt Jan's dick twitch at the casual demonstration of strength as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

As he closed the bedroom door and threw a very flushed and now fully hard Jan unceremoniously on his bed, Nace made a mental note to treat him to all the red wine he wished for the days to come.

masterlist | ao3

#i'm actually proud of this one hehe hope you like it 🤭#also this is the 20th prompt like WHAT :O #joker out #jan peteh #nace jordan #jance #ask #mine #maca writes #kiss prompts #i just think jan should be called kitten in fics more often and i couldn't help myself

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