the overwhelming desire to kiss

anonymous asked:

Hello! Can you do the Basorexia and Apodyopis prompts with Pietro Maximoff or Tony Stark please? Thank you in advance!

A/N: We couldn’t decide which to do so we did them both! I hope you enjoy!!

Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.

Tony Stark x Reader


Although they may be a little over-extravagant, you actually enjoyed Tony’s parties - especially the annual New Year’s Eve ones. With everyone eager to wrap up the old year and start all over new, spirits seemed to naturally lift. Ladies dressed in their flashiest or classiest gowns, men sporting their custom fit suits; the energy in the tower was unbeatable.

After hours of laughing and dancing the night away with your friends and colleagues, everyone started to gather around the huge clock Tony had installed in the middle of the room to count down to the new year.

The guests started counting down from sixty seconds. As you stepped back and took a look around the floor, you saw couples stepping closer to each other, eager to share their first kiss of the new year with each other. You didn’t particularly have anyone special in your life - although that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone there tonight that you wanted to kiss. You spotted Tony over towards the left, closer to the clock, his eyes searching the room. You wanted desperately to walk over to him and confidently give him the best New Year’s kiss he’s ever experienced, but you weren’t that type. You were never the kind of person to take charge, you preferred to keep to yourself and just let things happen naturally.

Thirty seconds left and the room suddenly felt stuffy to you. With all of the shouting and the gathering of everyone and the realization that you had gone yet another year without being in a single romantic relationship, you found yourself heading towards the doors to the balcony, which was thankfully empty.

The cool night air enveloped you as you stepped out to the balcony. In a few strides you found yourself leaning your forearms against the glass divider, looking out over the city. The chants from inside grew louder as the countdown hit ten seconds. Pretty soon, fireworks would be seen over the skyline of the city, cheers will be heard from block to block throughout neighborhoods, greetings will be exchanged and smiles shared. New Years was truly one of the happiest celebrations.

Three… two… one… Happy New Year. It’s shouted and cheered and you couldn’t help but smile. As you predicted, fireworks began to decorate the sky in celebration of a new start. You watch the scene with a dreamy look in your eyes.

“You’ll catch a cold out here, you know.” An all too familiar voice brought you out of your trance. You spun around to see Tony standing at the doors, his hands in his pants pockets and a sly smile on his face.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, he started walking towards you, bowing his head. “I wondered where you were, I didn’t see you inside or anything. I was worried you had left.” He stopped in front of you and turned slightly towards the city, supporting himself against the glass.

“It got a little too crowded for me.” You admitted, shrugging a bit. Tony nodded, not taking his eyes off of you. “You missed the big New Year’s kiss.” He said nonchalantly. You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Nobody wants to kiss me.” You shook your head as if it was crazy that someone would have even had a thought about kissing you, but you felt a pang of sadness at the realization that it was true.

“What if I want to kiss you?” There was no hesitation in Tony’s response. Your head snapped up to look at him in surprise. Did he really just say what you think he said? Tony still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. He was searching your face, looking for any kind of sign that you felt the same way as he did.

You weren’t sure what had sparked it - perhaps it was the way Tony’s soft, brown eyes were looking over you, or the fact that you had honestly been dreaming about a scenario like this with Tony for a very long time - but a wave of confidence washed over you, and you took a step closer to him.

The surprise on Tony’s face was evident, but he quickly tried to hide it. The sudden closeness between you two was electrifying. You felt yourself already leaning up on your toes. “Then kiss me.” You whispered.

Without missing a beat, Tony wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his eager lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet and honestly everything you had dreamed of. Bringing one hand to rest on his chest, you wrapped your other arm around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t think of a better way to start the New Year.


A/N: This got a little weird, sorry, the story went where it wanted to go, not my fault.

Apodyopsis – The act of mentally undressing someone.

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

She was so beautiful, it was driving him mad. He had never felt this way about anyone before, it was more than just a schoolyard crush, much more. Pietro was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, insatiable. But he never did anything about it, the pain of not being with her, dwarfed in comparison to the pain that would come if he lost her. If he acted on his feelings he would be risking their friendship. So he restrained himself, hoping that just being near her would be enough, but it wasn’t. He soon found himself craving her touch, caught himself memorizing the curve of her jaw, the slope of her nose, the smell of her shampoo. He was losing his mind. Every time she spoke, he could focus on nothing but her lips, how soft they looked, how they might feel against his.

Living in the same building was great at first, he got to see her every day, and could talk to her whenever he wanted. But after his feeling started to grow, he began to notice… things. Like how every morning she would come down in he pjs, which consisted of an oversized t-shirt that fell to her knees. Soon after, he began avoiding the kitchen all together, not being able to handle it. It was getting out of hand. He could hardly be in the same room as her anymore. Any time he closed his eyes, she was all he could think about. She made his heart beat fast, and his blood run hot.

One day, Steve called a team meeting, gathering everyone in the conference room. Pietro tried to pay attention to what was going on, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The dress you were wearing was modest, falling just above your knees while standing, the floral material matching well with your heels, the cut of the dress accenting your figure, while still remaining conservative. Despite this, when you took your seat, the dress rode up, showing your thigh. He couldn’t stop, he gripped the armrest of his chair, trying to focus on the papers Steve had handed out, but it was no good.

His eyes trailed up your body, wondering what it would be like to run his hands along it. As you shifted in your seat, crossing one leg over the other, his mind went wild, he pulled his lip between his teeth, trying once again to focus on what Steve was talking about. But once again, his mind began to wander. He wondered what it would feel like to be between those legs, to run his hands over them, to have them wrapped around him. His nails dug into the fabric of the armrest, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts like that. He closed his eyes trying to calm his racing heart. The sound of Steve’s voice dimmed, as he focused on his breathing.

What would it be like to take that dress off of you? Images flooded his mind, he could see himself leaning in close, wrapping his arms around you, slowly pulling the zipper of your dress down to the base of your back. The feeling of his hands gently pulling the material off of your shoulders, allowing it to fall, pooling at your feet. He could see your beautiful eyes, gazing up at him, sending chills down his spine, your hands flat on his chest as you stepped closer to him, his hands going to either side of your bare hips. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your delicate hands tracing up his chest and around his shoulders, your body pressing closer to his. His hands slid slowly down your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, trying to memorize it, praying to god this would never end. He suppressed a moan at the feeling of your lips on his neck, peppering it with kisses. One of your legs drifted up his side to wrap around his hip, he quickly cupped the back of your knee, hoisting you up to wrap both legs around his waist, wanting to be even closer you your body. The fire under his skin grew hotter every soft kiss you placed on his jaw, he wanted more, needed more, he would burn up otherwise. His hands gripped your hips tightly, biting his lip roughly.

“(Y/N)” he moaned breathlessly, your lips hot on his skin, traveling up his jaw, the feeling of your breath fanning over his ear sending another wave of shivers down his spine.

“Pietro…” he heard your voice whisper in his ear. “Pietro…” you repeated, but this time louder. You pulled away and looked down at him, your brows drawn together, a confused look distorting your face. “Pietro wake up!” the voice that came from your mouth wasn’t yours, it was deeper, more manly. “I said wake up!” Pietro stared confused.

“Wha-” a hand came down across his cheek, and suddenly your face was replaced by Steve’s very angry one. Pietro nearly jumped out of his skin yelling loudly, looking around disoriented. Steve took a step back, his hands on his hips, the irritation in his eyes impossible to miss. Everyone was looking at him, trying to hide their amused laughs behind their hands.

“Nice of you to join us Pietro.” Steve said “You just let me know if I start boring you again.” he snarked crossing his arms over his chest. Pietro straightened in his seat, blushing in embarrassment.

“N-no sir, I just dozed off for a moment. It won’t happen again…” Steve only sighed and walked back to the front of the room continuing the meeting. Pietro tried to hide his embarrassment, sinking lower in his seat, hiding his face behind the papers in front of him. But his eyes once again shifted to you. You looked back at him and smiled gently, giving him a small wave before returning your attention to Steve. He would never survive.

words to use more often:

basorexia - an overwhelming desire to neck kiss

prosopography - the description of a person’s appearane

brontide - referring to the sound of distant thunder rumbling

ximelolagnia - the urge to stare at someone sitting with crossed legs

cheiloproclictic - being attracted to a person’s lips

strikhedonia - the pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”

lethologica - the inability to recall the right word for something

psithurism - the sound of wind in trees or rushing leaves

tarantism - an urge to overcome melancholy by dancing

anonymous asked:

MHanders: Basorexia :)

(Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.)

Hawke finds Anders in the back room of the clinic, head down over his desk and pen in hand, shirtsleeves rolled up like he doesn’t feel the chill in the air.

“Got a letter from Carver today,” Hawke says, leaning over the desk. “He’s alive.” Well. Obviously. “A real Grey Warden now. Like something out of the stories. That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Something out of the stories?” Anders echoes, amused. He looks up from his writing with a faint, distracted smile that fades when he meets Hawke’s eyes.

Hawke holds out the second envelope that had been enclosed with Carver’s letter. “There’s one for you, too.”

Anders takes it, turns it over and sees the Warden-Commander’s formal seal, two griffons stamped into blue wax. “…Oh.”

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the Signs as Unusual words and their meanings
  • Aries: phosphenes - the stars and colors you see when you rub your eyes
  • Taurus: sonder - the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own
  • Gemini: sillage - the scent that lingers in the air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume
  • Cancer: latibule - a hiding place, a place of safety and comfort
  • Leo: alharaca - an extraordinary or violent emotional reaction to a small issue
  • Virgo: basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss
  • Libra: vorfreude - the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures
  • Scorpio: athazagoraphobia - the fear of forgetting, being forgotten or ignored, or being replaced
  • Sagittarius: nemophilist - one who is fond of forests and forest scenery, a haunter of the woods
  • Capricorn: hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
  • Aquarius: mauerbauertraurigkeit - the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like
  • Pisces: oneirataxia - the inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality

Sometimes I get completely overwhelmed with the desire to just see Dean and Cas kiss on screen.

Soft & sweet kisses are great and I definitely want to see those too, but I always imagined that if they ever did kiss in the show their first kiss would be passionate and desperate because damn it they’ve had this UST for 7 freaking years and now they’re finally acting on it they just can’t control themselves.

Maybe Cas would push Dean against a wall or a door or another hard surface while he’s kissing him - we all know how often Dean gets acquainted with hard surfaces in the show ;)

I just really wanna see them kiss I’ve driven myself crazy imagining it countless times.

I apologise for being such trash.

2

Basorexia: An overwhelming desire to kiss.

[ 600+ word fluff from this prompt ☆ ]

Izuku doesn’t know if he has a death wish or not, but he’s become incredibly fascinated with Katsuki’s hair. And eyes. And mouth.

He’s going to kill me if I tell him. Izuku thinks to himself, sighing while staring out the window. As if our relationship isn’t difficult enough already.

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Basorexia - Jungkook

(n.) the overwhelming desire to kiss 

Originally posted by yoongi-the-swaggy-turtle

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/n

Genre: Smut, fluff, 

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: all the smutty smut, emotional ending

Summary: You go to your first ever bts concert and get chosen as the lucky fan to go onstage with the members. What you expect was for Jungkook to be in bed with you.

A/N: Finally I’m uploading a new fic, sorry for the long wait. This was requested by my friend Tammy so, here you go bae~! 


 The enormous venue was pitch black only the many army bombs waving around lighting everything up. You could only hear the loud chanting of “BTS! BTS! BTS!” over and over from the thousands of fans. You were too chanting aloud the same exact words as loud as you could.

You were at Bts’ concert. You weren’t from where bts was performing so, you had traveled here and rented a hotel for about two days. You have been waiting for this day for what felt like your whole life. You basically did everything you could to be able to attend this concert and meet the boys of your dreams, your role models, your everything.

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d20doll  asked:

Youareoneofmy favorite writers! I hope I'm not too late... Basorexia - pearlnet Or Druxy - RosePearl

Pairing: Pearlnet

Rating: T, but could pass as a G.

Summary: Garnet wants to kiss Pearl. Written as a request with a prompt “Basorexia” – the overwhelming desire to kiss someone. Cotton Candy Garnet x Renegade Gay Pearl. College AU fluff.

Note: The keep-reading cut breaks when reblogging and viewing on mobile (it disappears) so I’ve had to remove it to make it… readable for others.


GUTS AND GLASSES

Garnet grew up having to explain to everyone about her shades. Over the years she’d grown up from being lame for wearing something so eighties, to cool, because of Cyclops, to being called Lady Gaga. She’s used to it, and all the trouble that being different brings – kids trying to shove it off her eyes during basketball, or pretending to hit it by accident.

They wanted to see her eyes. They didn’t get it when the teachers said that Garnet’s eyes were sensitive to light. She’d been asked if she was a vampire (in broad daylight) because of the light sensitivity.

“It’s just my eyes,” she’d said. It didn’t mean, to them, that the rest of her was normal.

As she grew up, her mother had them made extra hard to knock off, and she had a special pair for basketball and swimming and whatever else she got into. The rest of Garnet’s face might be bruised at a brawl in school, but not her cool wraparound shades. She ended up acquiring a reputation: she was the kind of girl that was too cool for you, too strong for you, and too perfect for you. It was a reputation she didn’t ask for. And like plenty of things she didn’t ask for, this one was an unwelcome barrier between her and the rest of the world.

It made falling in love difficult. It made thinking of Pearl difficult. Wanting to kiss someone shouldn’t be this hard, but it was. Sure, she and Pearl kissed on the cheek sometimes, as friends, but Garnet wanted a proper kiss, her way of reminding Pearl that the attraction was mutual and that maybe they could move from being friends to being a little more.

Unfortunately the grand plan of sweeping Pearl off her feet was marred by the fact that they both wore glasses. The running idea in Garnet’s head was that it would be after a nice dinner picnic, the moment would be perfect, and preferably not ruined by the fact that her glasses were practically stapled to her head by a thick strap. Contacts were not an option, because they irritated her eyes till she cried, and that would be an unromantic as well.

It also annoyed her that crying (of all things) and glasses-bumping had become her chief concerns. She wasn’t a romantic, not after being subjected to it all her life thanks to her two mothers. They never missed a chance to kiss in front of Garnet (or her friends) – they were the sort of parents that knew how embarrassing they were and were in a position not to care. Garnet eventually ended up numb and sick to the gills with it.

Romance had never been Garnet’s thing until Pearl.

Pearl was the kind of girl who twirled her fingers in the air without realizing it. She was the kind of girl who talked with every part of her: her eyes would rove all over the place, fingers would be off rattling points, she might rock on the balls of her feet or stand on her tippy toes, a holdover from her ballet days – she just had to. At every moment, she was moving, or breathing, or excited about something, or upset about something. One thing was for sure: she always had a reaction, which made her the perfect target for teasing, or exasperation, or amusement. Garnet had gone through all three and settled, at last, for affection. She was surprised she didn’t put up more of a fight against her feelings, knowing that Pearl’s last relationship had been intense and that her own feelings might not be returned. It was simply how she felt. And as for why… it was a guts thing, she once told Amethyst.

“A guts thing?”

“Is it easier to make fun of something, or to say when you’re for something?”

She knew Amethyst got the idea. Still, Amethyst chose to ignore it, saying instead, “So does this mean I can’t prank her on April Fools?”

Pearl was openly gay. Garnet was out herself, but not as flamboyant about it. Pearl was unapologetically girly, always wearing sundresses and makeup. When Dewey the -Dunce- Chairperson for Student Affairs asked her out, at a party, she looked at him in horror, turned up her nose, and said no in front of everyone, and later pointed out it was his fault for asking so publicly knowing what she was. When she’d been putting up posters with Amethyst in the Engineering building for the local gay club and told there were no gays in Engineering by some dumb kids she took the high road and ignored them until they shoved Amethyst, who punched back, and so of course Pearl had to defend her friend.

“You should see the other guy,” she said to Garnet the moment Garnet walked into the clinic. Amethyst, aware of Garnet’s feelings for Pearl, waggled her eyebrows and threw a huge thumbs up.

(Garnet was pretty sure Amethyst had taught Pearl that line. But still.)

Guts. Pearl had them. All her life, Garnet thought she had them. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Suddenly she had a stake in a thing she’d never wanted all her life, and she wanted it to be perfect. Garnet never demanded perfection of the world; she knew better. She knew how to roll with the punches. But her heart had dealt her a punch from which she couldn’t recover, damn it.

Her phone blooped.

Want to go for a drive tomorrow?

She laughed. It didn’t make sense, to be nervous over a drive.

//

//

SCIENTIFIC METHOD

Pearl was never good at reading signals from people. It was just her luck that lately, Garnet seemed to be – well, interested. In her.

It was, empirically, factually, a weird thing. A statistical outlier. Garnet Jones was complete in herself, did things as she pleased, weaving in and out of college activity as she liked. She was one of those people who enjoyed life – a foreign concept to someone like Pearl, who fretted over everything. It was natural for Pearl to fall in a (carefully controlled) like when it came to Garnet, because Garnet was so different from her, but she wasn’t exactly sure what Garnet could possibly get in their relationship. Pearl knew what she gave in a relationship: devotion, a nice car, the promise of stability. Garnet didn’t want any of those. So Pearl wasn’t sure if Garnet was just being friendly when they’d started sort-of-dating, and for some reason, it had fallen into this pattern of them going on actual study dates and occasionally having dinner but not really discussing what they were.

Pearl, not having anyone to talk to, had no idea whether this sort of thing was common, the reason why so many people had their status listed as ‘complicated’ on social media. She wasn’t sure whether to mark it as an outlier or within normal range. She had to rely on her feelings, and her feelings were currently telling her, against the rationale of her mind, to take Garnet out for a drive (if Garnet wanted to, of course) a few miles away to a quiet beach town where they could hang out. She would then tick off a list of signals (whether Garnet held her hand, or if Garnet wanted to go somewhere more private, for example) before asking Garnet if this constituted going steady.

It was not a very rational plan, because it was made out of her daydreams. Pearl knew that. She hoped that her injection of observation and inference-making would help. Yes, her hypothesis was biased, but surely her methodology was not.

//

//

FAVORITE ACCIDENT

Garnet was quiet on the drive out to Beach City, thinking about her evening conversation with Amethyst.

She shouldn’t have told Amethyst about the glasses.

“Oh wow, man, I can’t believe Pearl’s got more balls than you,” Amethyst had said at the end of Garnet’s short soul-baring explanation. At Garnet’s sulky glare (that wasn’t visible through her glasses, but Amethyst was great at reading body language), Amethyst further drove the point in: “this isn’t about glasses, you’re just looking for an excuse not to make the first move. Real lame, buddy.”

Real lame, buddy. She hated it when Amethyst understood her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Garnet replied, looking out the window.

“You know, we don’t have to drive out,” Pearl said, “I was just thinking the weather was great for it. We can still go back.”

Oh no. No she didn’t want to go back. “Uh, no, this is fine,” Garnet said. “I mean, you want to go out right? We’re here.”

She’d made it sound like she was doing it because she had to. Like a friend-duty thing. Why did she have to talk, to begin with. She didn’t have Rose Quartz’s famous way with people. She was just Garnet, chilling at the back.

“I mean,” Garnet said, trying a third time, “I mean, I want to go too. I’ve never really seen Beach City up close.”

Pearl hummed. Garnet slunk. Then she stood up straighter, because she could hear her mother scolding her: Joneses don’t slink.

//

//

Beach City was full by the time they arrived. “I should have expected this,” Pearl muttered as they weaved in and out of the flea market that popped out on the city street. It was almost summer, though the air was still a little chilly. This didn’t stop the tourists from flocking to the beach.

“It’s fine,” Garnet said, as they separated to let a man pass between them. They occasionally brushed shoulders against other tourists as they walked down to the beach, until Garnet, somewhat worried she wouldn’t be able to find Pearl, took her hand.

“Sorry,” she said, dropping the hand just as soon as she held it. “I-I mean, we might get lost.”

“It’s fine,” Pearl said, taking Garnet’s hand. “That’s a good idea.”

They were stopped for a moment by a guy at the end of the flea market, who waved a hair dye formula for Garnet. “I guarantee you, this fixes any bad dye jobs ya got there,” he said.

Garnet waved him off. After some distance, Pearl asked, “what did happen, anyway?” she asked, referring to Garnet’s cotton-candy hair.

“My favorite accident,” Garnet replied. “I was around sixteen and thinking, well, if I’m going to look different all the time, I might as well dye my hair. I didn’t read the instructions, so I ended up with red and blue in some patches. I kinda liked it so I kept it that way. Been doing it for a while now.”

“I wish I had your guts,” Pearl said. “My hair’s just strawberry blonde. Kind of boring, I know. I’ve never really done anything with it. Or with my clothes, now that I think about it. It was always dresses and flats with my mother when I was growing up.”

“Do you want to try something else?”

“I wish I had more shorts, honestly,” Pearl said. “And some nice jeans. But dresses are nice, too.”

“I always thought dresses were your thing, to be honest. You’re always so… girly.”

“Well I enjoy it,” Pearl said. “But I think twenty years wearing mostly skirts is a long enough time.”

“Then we should get you something,” Garnet said. “While we’re here.”

//

//

They ended up on the beach. They ended up with a picnic. They ended up swimming with their clothes on; they had new ones anyway. Garnet, floating on her back, eyes perfectly shielded from the sun, should have been thinking about making things clear between them, but Pearl had splashed a powerful spray of water into her face, and Garnet was determined to punish her right for it. They gave up splashing each other when the waves got rough and instead just floated around a fair distance away from the shore, never too far apart from each other.

It was around four in the afternoon when they finally got out of the water and trudged back to the more public side of the beach, where they could take a shower (Pearl insisted on it.) There was no question about it, they were swinging their hands held fast, suspended between now and – whatever came after. Garnet’s heart was back to hammering her every which way, only momentarily relieved when it was her turn to take a shower, but it came back in full force when she saw Pearl come out of the shower stall, her glasses dangling off the collar of her shirt.

Pearl waved, not that she had to. Against the setting sun, it looked like Pearl’s eyes glowed blue green, standing out between her still-pale skin and strawberry hair, and not for the first time Garnet wished she knew what it looked like without her glasses on.

“I can never tell what you’re thinking,” Pearl said, smiling up at her. Her eyes really were glowing, against the sky’s colors. For a second, Garnet blanked out with the tingling at the tips of her fingers and the hammering at her heart, but she willed her fingers into her pockets and shrugged.

“That’s a good thing,” Garnet said. “I’m not really thinking anything, half the time.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow. “Nobody can think nothing,” she said. “Nothing itself is a concept.”

Garnet laughed. “Right.”

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

“That’s what I like about you,” Garnet said, a little too open after spending an entire afternoon with Pearl with no direction but whatever they felt like doing. “I’m always picking something new up.”

Pearl blushed. She quickly ducked away and walked towards one of the concession stands, muttering something about coke. Garnet smirked a bit, both pleased and agitated, and let Pearl go ahead, giving her enough time to get that blush under control.

Dude, she could hear Amethyst say in her head. If you can’t make a move after all that you’re really not worthy.

//

//

Pearl fell asleep on the bench, just before the sunset. Not wanting to wake her, but with nothing to do, Garnet left a message on Pearl’s phone and strode off to find a place for dinner. She got as far as the pier, where market stalls were changing face, turning into modest diners. By the time Garnet returned to Pearl, the sky was a pale blue thing already dotted with stars.

“Hey,” she said, sitting next to a now-awake Pearl.

“I missed the sunset,” Pearl said, a little sullenly.

“We could just go again next week.”

Pearl was quiet for a beat.

“Yeah,” she said. “If we don’t have exams.”

Garnet watched the waves on the shore grow darker and darker as the evening deepened. Pearl watched the stars come out. Sometime during their peaceful sitting session they found their hands touching, then holding, then occasionally their thumbs would brush against the back of their palms and they’d smile at each other and then go back to looking at the beach or the skies.

//

//

SAY SOMETHING, DO SOMETHING

Pearl’s brain had well and truly short circuited around the time Garnet’s thumb brushed against hers. Fewer and fewer stars were coming out, until they stopped popping out of the black at all. By then there was only one working signal left in Pearl’s brain: that Garnet liked her and therefore it was high time to shove her tongue down Garnet’s throat, which was such an undignified thing to think that it short circuited too along with the rest, leaving Pearl blushing at the sky with a brain that wasn’t working.

“Pearl?” Garnet asked, and Pearl slowly remembered that she had muscles to turn her head towards Garnet, and even vocal chords with which to reply, but she’d forgotten to get her blush in order, so she said Yes? with a face so red-hot it looked as though she might pass out.

“Are you okay? You don’t have a sunburn on your face, do you?”

Pearl poked her cheek. “No,” Pearl replied, and by then her brain had picked itself up from the floor and was busy trying to flood her mind with anything except Garnet Jones in a bid to get the blush under control.

Pearl’s brain was not doing a very good job.

“Could you do me a favor?”

Pearl nodded.

“Could you take off your glasses?”

Pearl took them off.

Garnet kissed her.

It was a very brief kiss. By the time Pearl closed her eyes, Garnet’s lips were already leaving hers. Pearl’s arm twitched, caught between two signals: to pull Garnet in or to let Garnet go.

It stayed put, for the rest of Pearl was trying to hold onto the sensation of Garnet kissing her.

“Um,” she said, after.

Garnet wasn’t helping. She looked frozen in place herself. Pearl’s brain picked itself up for the second time and quickly got things under control:

“Can we do that again?”

This time they met halfway. This time they didn’t stop. They went on kissing, and exploring, and touching, until they both got too hungry to ignore – and then after that, they gave up on going home and spent the night first on the beach and later at the back of Pearl’s car.

Finally.

//

//

//

fin

//

//

//

The fun thing about writing for garnet is that, if you didn’t have a peek into her head, you’d think she’s super cool tucking her fingers into her pockets and throwing compliments around like it’s nothing. But then you see her in the answer and you’re like, Garnet is a dork.

I hope you guys enjoyed it! 

Basorexia - a drabble

I don’t know if you lovely group of ladies are teasing me, but when three people ask for the same word, well… I guess it’s a sign, is’t it?

So, @thegirlfromoverthepond, @peetabreadgirl and @titaniasfics, for your reading pleasure I give you Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.


She’s a little fixated on his eyelashes. They’re so pale that they’re almost invisible, except up close. So long she doesn’t know how they don’t get all tangled up when he blinks. The light filtering through the window catches them, turns them to spun gold, haloing eyes deep and blue, like pools of still water.

But it’s his mouth that really captivates her.

Those lips; lush, almost too plump, and so incredibly soft looking. Lips that quirk up at the corners when he’s amused, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek. Lips that press tightly together, all but disappear when he’s trying not to lose his cool, though that seldom happens. He’s so sweet tempered, so boundlessly patient.

Lips that are now pursed in the most kissable pucker as he contemplates the screen in front of them.

She has never wanted to kiss someone as much as she wants to kiss him.

He turns, catches her staring. Those incredibly plush lips turn up in a smile so genuinely sweet, with just the right touch of shyness. Her heart flutters in her chest, a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

No one has ever made her feel like he does.

They’re sitting side by side, his broad shoulder pressed against her, the muscles of his arm pulling and flexing where they touch. She’s hyper-aware of his heat, of the clean, masculine smell of him, the spice of his cologne. Of the way his breath catches every time her hand brushes against his.

He says something she doesn’t catch, too caught up in longing, in wondering what those lips would feel like pressed against her own. How that silver tongue of his might paint sonnets on her palate. He quirks an eyebrow at her, smirking. She bites her bottom lip in contrition and his eyes flit downward, follow her teeth.

The desire to kiss him is overwhelming. Basorexia. She gives in to it.

At the first press of her mouth to his he startles; she feels him tense. But she doesn’t pull back, not now that she finally feels his lips under hers. Soft, like she was expecting, but also firm, taut. And then she feels him relax, feels those soft lips moving.

She raises a hand to cup his cheek, stroke the stubble just coming in. He says her name, “Katniss,” a sigh of longing. Then his hand is on the nape of her neck, pulling her more tightly, angling her head to deepen the kiss.

The first stroke of his tongue against hers is electric; sparks race down her torso, pop behind her eyes. He explores every crevice of her mouth methodically, unstoppably. She doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t ever want to stop. The desire, the hunger increases. He moans low in the back of his throat; the sound makes her tingle and tense, every nerve on fire.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, it could be ten minutes, it could be ten hours. She wishes it could be forever.

She finally pulls back - panting, lips bruised - and looks at him. His eyes are closed, nostrils flaring as he struggles to catch his breath. His pink tongue, so velvety, so gifted, snakes out repeatedly to lick his kiss-swollen lips. As if he’s savouring her taste. Finally, with a shuddering breath he opens his eyes, hooded and lust-filled, and for a moment he only stares at her with naked longing.

Then it’s as if a bucket of cold water is poured down his spine, he stiffens, eyes widening, a myriad of expressions contorting his handsome face. Fear. Desperation. Shame. “No! I'm… I’m so sorry,” he gasps, panting like he’s run miles. “Katniss, we, I mean I… shit.”  He covers his face with hands that tremble, shoulders slumping forward. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles again. “Oh God.”

The realization hits her just a few moments later. The chair squawks in protest as she leaps to her feet. His head snaps up, but she’s already running for the door. “Wait, please,” floats down the corridor, empty of students now, but she doesn’t slow. She ducks between a row of lockers and escapes out the doors by the gym, his frantic voice fading in the distance. She can’t believe she did that. She can’t believe she kissed Peeta Mellark.

Mr. Mellark.

Her twelfth grade English teacher.

Constellations on her Cheeks (stydia)

Stiles never noticed that Lydia had freckles.
Which was odd. He had, in fact, been close to her face a good many times.
He had danced with her. Her body had been pressed against his and her face was so close he could make out ever fleck and color in her eyes. But then he had been focused on her hand on his shoulder and the way her eyes had just a hint of hazel in them. He’d held her face to wipe the blood from her ears after Meredith screamed.
But then he had been focused on the blood dripping down her cheeks and onto her shirt collar.
Her face had been inches from his when he had held her after a close call with a coyote trap.
But he has been focused on the sweat on her forehead and the fact that she was still in one piece.
Once she had been laying on his bed, he was crouched next to it, unwinding a piece of red yarn from her finger.
But then, he was too distracted by his fingers intertwined with hers and her stunningly red lips and the overwhelming desire to lean forward just a few inches and kiss her.
And then there was there time where he really had kissed her. Or she had kissed him.
But he had been completely and utterly focused on the electricity dancing between their lips and the beautiful blankness spinning in his head.
He had never studied her nose.

It wasn’t until his adrenaline had sharpened his eye sight, until he had her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs, staring into her empty but saddened eyes.
Until he was choking back his own tears, trying desperately to tell her that it was him. That he was here, that she wasn’t dreaming.
That they needed to go.
That was when he suddenly saw them. They were small and light, distributed evenly across her nose and cheeks.
So perfectly random they looked kind of like stars.
He could have created constellations with them. He could have counted and recounted and located the Little Dipper that he had noticed just under her left eye over and over again.
He all at once was reminded of where they were and what was happening and the fact that he had let them take her and put her in this state of in between.
Paralysis, almost.

It was in that moment, that he became angry with himself.
Angry with himself for pushing her away.
Angry that he never told her how much he loved the green of her eyes and the way her brow creased when she was in the brink of figuring something out.
It was in that moment he promised himself he would never again let himself get so far away that he was unable to see the galaxies on her cheeks.

sonnenblumenmuse  asked:

Basorexia (An overwhelming desire to kiss) and Baisemain (A kiss on the hand) that leads to Cataglottism (Kissing with tongue). Nozomi wants to kiss Nico so she kisses her hand. Not to be outdone, Nico pulls Nozomi in and french kisses her.

A quick bite of the lower lip was enough to make Nico jittery. The purple haired girl was messing with her; that was obvious. Nozomi faced the front, her attention seemingly on the lesson being given, but the sudden presence of gleaming turquoise peering at Nico from the corner of her eye and the small, amused smile that followed gave the older girl away. 

This was the third day she had been subjected to Nozomi’s teasing game. Keeping her gaze away from the other girl was hard, she could practically feel it when the other girl’s tongue darted across soft lips, but giving Nozomi the satisfaction of knowing that she had her wrapped around her finger was something Nico would never let happen. She could endure this. 

I want to kiss her.

That thought lingered, overwhelming and constant, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the mathematical equations on the board. It was that thought that eventually pulled her gaze back towards Nozomi, who licked her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue the moment Nico looked over. 

The gentle bongs of the school bell, signalling the end of the last class of the day, broke Nico from her momentary trance. All around her students scrambled from their seats, eager to head towards their clubs, but one student stayed stationary, a small smile on her face. It wasn’t until every other student left the room that Nico finally decided to walk up to her.

“Nozomi…” Nico’s voice came out lower than intended.

“Nicocchi.” Nozomi kept a straight face, but her would be smile crept into her voice. “Do you need me for something?”

“Don’t play with me, Nozomi. You’ve been messing with me for the past three days.”

The purple haired girl stood from her seat, forcing Nico to tilt her head up to keep eye contact, “Mess with you? Please, Nicocchi, you’re the one who’s been staring for weeks now, and being stared at is very distracting. Underneath all that scrutiny, I thought I should prepare myself.”

Nico’s brow furrowed as the other girl grabbed her hand, bringing it close to her face. With one last, lingering glance, Nozomi pressed her lips the back of Nico’s hand. Fire shot up Nico’s arm as soft lips made contact with her skin. The older girl pulled away, a light, audible smack sending a shiver up Nico’s spine.

“That’s what you’ve been wanting, right?” Nozomi’s voice was low, husky. “A kiss? Knowing that, I couldn’t kiss you without first making sure my lips were warmed up properly. You just happened to observe the warm up process more than you wanted.”

Nico stared at the other girl, her mouth agape. The twinkle in her eyes, the slightly upturned lips, the subtle amusement in her voice; it was borderline infuriating. Nozomi had caught her off guard once again, something that happened far too often. She was done with feeling one step behind. Nico, with fierce determination, grabbed the fabric of Nozomi’s uniform and pulled her down.

As their mouths crashed together, Nico took the opportunity to slip her tongue between Nozomi’s parted lips. For a split second, the taller girl was immobile, the suddenness of the action likely shocking her, but Nozomi recovered quickly, pressing back with a fervency that rivaled Nico’s.

Tongues danced with each other as arms wrapped around torsos, bringing the two of them closer than they had ever been before. The sensation of Nozomi’s eager lips against her own set Nico’s heart racing. As Nico pressed herself against the other girl, every desire that had plagued her the past few weeks overwhelmed her senses.

Feeling Nozomi push her towards one of the desks, Nico bit down on Nozomi’s bottom lip to assert control, smiling into the other girl’s mouth as she heard a soft moan. Feeling satisfied, Nico put a palm to Nozomi’s chest, pushing just enough that their lips would part. 

That’s what I wanted.” After taking in Nozomi’s wide eyed expression, Nico turned and left without another word, leaving a stunned Nozomi behind.

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