tastes like funnel cake

Triumvirate First Kiss Preferences (SFW)

Have some imagines (preferences? headcanons? idk man) your first kiss with Hux, Phasma and Kylo. I’m in a sappy, smoochy mood, and as always feedback is highly encouraged.

validate me pls

Hux:

  • The buildup to the kiss would be meticulously planned by the General. He’s a tactician, and more than that he’s someone who’s used to being in control of everything, from a superweapon that throws stars at people to something much more important like your first kiss. That being said, Hux makes it as romantic as possible given your circumstances—soft lighting, and a specially prepared meal shared in his private quarters aboard the ship including very expensive wine (the conquests of war). When you arrive at his quarters, he presents you with your favorite kind of flowers, there’s quiet, classical music playing, and he’s budgeted out time to talk about your day while you eat. He’s genuinely interested in what you have to say, and at no point do you feel like he’s not giving you his complete attention.
    • The planning itself and hitting all of the main points of the evening help his nerves, because Hux is incredibly nervous about this. It’s one thing to be friendly, to say that you have interest in the General but another thing to show it.
      • Hux is pretty affection starved as well, which makes him worry about whether he’ll be able to kiss you properly. Sex he can do, he’d done it plenty of times in the Academy and since then, but romance and softness and gentle affection are completely foreign to him.
  • The kiss itself however, does not go as planned; the two of you are sitting on the sofa, drinks in hand and chatting about how delicious the dinner was. Everything is going to plan for Hux, he’s going to ease the conversation to something a little more personal, deliver a sincere but not overly emotional confession in regards to his feelings, slowly lean in and—and before he can do any of that your lips are on his, and you are kissing him.
    • It’s nowhere near according to plan, but your lips are sweet with wine, and your arms are around his neck, and he thinks that in this one circumstance he can forgive the improvisation.
    • In spite of the fact that you’re the one who initiated it, Hux takes control rather quickly and starts out with relatively chaste, gentle kisses. He doesn’t want to push things too far too fast, and though he’ll never admit it he’s nervous of messing up.
      • Which is fine until you start nipping playfully, and it doesn’t take long to encourage Hux to really get into it, taking things from sweet to steamy and before you know it you’re lying back on the couch with your shirt off and the feeling of cool leather ghosting down your ribs.      

Phasma:

  • The buildup is relatively short for Phasma; she knew from the get go that she liked you, that she wanted to kiss you. It was, in fact, one of her first thoughts when she saw you on the bridge delivering a report to the General wearing not quite regulation lipstick. It wasn’t just your physical appearance that had attracted the chrome Captain though—you worked and spoke with an air of quiet, assured competence that she immediately respected, and she was intrigued by the fact that she had never actually seen you before. You bond through shared shifts in a way; you worked late hours that required you to walk from one part of base to another, and would often accompany the Captain on her nightly patrols.
  • She takes you out on a bit of shore leave, nowhere particularly fancy because it wouldn’t fit either of you, but somewhere comfortable, and fun, where you can both get out of uniform and just enjoy each other’s presence.
    • She doesn’t take you to a bar, but out on a cute date that involves your shared interests. You go out to a small fair or festival, and Phasma gets to show off and win you prizes at carnival games while you get to introduce her to all of the horribly unhealthy food she’s been missing out on.
    • You’re walking back to the docking bay, hand in hand as you hug a small stuffed animal to your chest when she pulls you off to the side and stares down at you. It didn’t take her long to become completely enamored with you, and really it’s a miracle that she hasn’t found some excuse to kiss you before this.
  • The kiss is playful and tastes like cotton candy and funnel cake. She lifts you off of your feet, and your foot pops just like a princess before your back is resting against a wall and your legs are wrapped around her waist.
    • It’s fun and happy, you’re both smiling into it and laughing a little bit, and maybe there’s a bit of teeth clacking against one another, and maybe it’s a little sloppier than Phasma would usually prefer. But you’ve both been having so much fun, maybe drinking a little more than necessary, to really care.
      • It’s one of the very few times that Phasma can drop the stern Captain persona and simply enjoy herself and her surroundings. And the kiss is indicative of your relationship; you both keep each other grounded, create an escape from the war and the First Order, where you can be yourselves and have a little fun.
      • Pulling back is reluctant, but you lace your fingers in hers and practically drag her back to the ship for a little bit of privacy.

Kylo:

  • Kylo is a nervous wreck building up to your first kiss. The kiss itself isn’t even intended for the most part, rather a culmination of his growing feelings for you and his own restless energy. You trained together occasionally, and you were one of the soldiers that he regularly requested for his missions due to your competency and abilities in the field. Kylo admires your control even in the midst of battle, as well as your ruthlessness and ferocity when facing an enemy.
    • The buildup itself is actually in the middle of a mission gone wrong; you and Kylo are the only two left fighting against the Resistance, and you end up getting separated. You’re both getting tired, sporting minor injuries, your helmet is lying somewhere in the mud and he can see the fierce determination on your face. In another situation he would be struck by how powerful you look.
    • Kylo sees the Resistance soldier shoot at you, panics because as much as he wants to stop the bolt his attention is drawn by the people trying to kill him.
      • It’s a close call, but you manage to avoid the bolt with a minor graze, and even you can’t believe how lucky you are. When your enemies are finally all dead, you just look over at him and can’t help but laugh in surprise/near hysteria that you’re still alive.
  • The kiss itself is urgent, desperate, and Kylo clings to you as though he’s a drowning man and you’re his buoy. He stalks across the battle field and, ripping his helmet off, pulls you straight into his arms as his lips crash down onto yours. It’s messy, somewhat uncoordinated and it’s obvious that he doesn’t have that much experience but you still find your arms around him, fingers diving into his surprisingly soft hair, and a soft moan coming from your mouth as you lean into the embrace.
    • There’s too much teeth and tongue, but it’s overwhelming in the emotion that comes with it that you easily get swept up. It feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally pull back it’s to gasp for air because it’s been so long, and not long enough.
      • There’s a lot of intense eye-contact afterwards, foreheads resting against one another as Kylo stares at you to reassure himself that you’re alive and real. Because he almost lost you and the thought of your death is completely unacceptable.
    • Afterwards he stutters out an angry, biting remark about how you needed to be more careful, because he needs you alive, and you know that as much as he might try to play it off as professional he cares deeply about you and you feel the exact same way.

anonymous asked:

For the Drabble prompts thing - number 142, hold my hand so he gets jealous 💕

142. “Hold my hand so he gets jealous.”

“Come on Scott,” Stiles whined, “Hold my hand so he gets jealous.”

“Stiles, we both know that me holding your hand isn’t going to make Derek jealous, he knows we’re like brothers,” Scott said calmly as they walked around the Beacon County fair. 

“It might,” Stiles said, knowing it was hopeless, nothing would make Derek jealous. 

“Just go talk to him,” Scott suggested and Stiles frowned.

“Hey Stiles!” Derek said, as if on cue, “Hi Scott.”

“Hey!” Scott said, elbowing Stiles in a very obvious way, “Well I have to go meet Kira at the petting zoo! Bye.”

“Um,” Stiles looked at Derek after Scott ran off, “Want to share a funnel cake?”

“Sure,” Derek said, giving Stiles a bright smile. Derek had been lighter since he came back to Beacon Hills, well the whole pack had honestly. “How was your first year of college?”

“Uh, not bad, kind of missed being here,” Stiles admitted, running a hand through his hair, “I didn’t miss the supernaturally terrors though.”

Derek huffed out a laugh. The conversation flowed easily, they talked about Cora, about what Derek was doing at the sheriff’s station as a ‘consultant’, about Stiles’ classes. Derek paid for the funnel cake and they walked around for nearly an hour just chatting. 

“We should ride the ferris wheel,” Derek said and Stiles nodded, relishing any time he could spend with Derek. 

“It’s too bad Scott ditched us,” Stiles said, not meaning it at all, “It could have been like old times.”

“I think Scott wanted us to talk,” Derek said, looking at Stiles through thick lashes, “You know you don’t have to make me jealous.”

Stiles stomach dropped, “Oh you heard that.”

“Yeah I did,” Derek admitted, sliding a little closer to Stiles on the seat as they went up and up and up. “But I would have been jealous if i saw you holding someone elses hand. Just not Scott’s.”

“So… do you want to hold my hand?”

Derek’s laced his fingers through Stiles’ as an answer, “I’d like to do more than hold your hand.”

“Oh, well. Yeah. Um. We can totally do that,” Stiles rambled, but he was cut short by Derek’s lips on his. They were soft and tasted a little like funnel cake and Stiles never wanted to stop kissing him. 

“I’m glad you didn’t hold Scott’s hand,” Derek said against Stiles’ mouth when they finally came up for air. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Drabble Challenge: 1-150

the-capricious-one  asked:

please tell me more about Susan the 12 foot angel with pigtails

Susan is new to Earth, and she has decided that she likes it. This is a shame because she has descended from the heavens as a herald of the end of days, to speak to her prophet that the people of the world may prepare themselves. 

“You could just,” offers her prophet. “You know. Not end the world.”

“We are not ending the world,” Susan replies, in a voice like the ticking of a clock: no words, simply a rhythm that falls into to meaning when you know what she says. “The world is simply ending.”

They are sitting together on the boardwalk. Her prophet is a woman. Susan perhaps looks like a woman too. It’s hard to tell. People studiously avoid looking at Susan. It’s not so much that they can’t as they will never allow themselves to. Susan does not notice this. Her prophet looks at Susan, and that is all Susan needs. 

“Boo,” says her prophet. “That’s a lazy answer.” Her prophet takes another bite of her funnel cake. 

Susan finished her funnel cake already. But she liked the taste of it, more than she thought she would, and so she reaches a hand into her stomach and pulls it back out to eat it again. “You will need to prepare the world,” Susan says as she chews. She speaks with something other than her mouth and she eats with something other than her mouth, so her prophet is not exactly sure what Susan uses her mouth for. Or if Susan has a mouth. Her prophet looks at Susan to check, gets her answer, and then forgets it the moment she looks away. “If they aren’t ready, they will get left behind.”

“I think after the latest YA fad, we’re ready to handle the post-apocalypse,” her prophet says. 

Susan thinks for a moment. “No,” she says. “You are not.”

Her prophet thinks for a moment as well. “You’re kind of a bummer, Susan.” 

percyyoulittleshit  asked:

Nude male model bellamy

Today’s been the longest day of Clarke’s life. She hasn’t slept for twenty-four hours, and she still has a full night ahead, studying for an anatomy class that just wrecks her brain, and she spends most of her speed-walk to the Arts Center in a quietly furious conversation with her mother, cupping her hand around her phone and tucking her face into her scarf. “No, Mom,” she says, over and over again, a repetition that quickly starts to sum up her whole life since she started doubting her future following in her mother’s footsteps. “No, Mom. It’s fine. No.”

Eventually she reaches the doors and kicks the snow and salt off her boots before entering. “No, Mom, and I gotta go, I’m already late for class, love you, bye,” she says quickly before she hangs up her phone and pockets it. Her fingers start to swell and ache in the warm lobby as soon as she walks in. She hurries to her classroom as best as she can without looking like she’s running, and is sure she looks altogether terrible when she yanks the door open.

Mostly because Bellamy Blake is on the other side.

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