your kisses with him – headcanon
- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭: valentines kisses ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌ ft. heartslabyul, savanaclaw, and octavinelle
╰┈➤ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: noooo what do you mean i’m ignoring my requests for indulgent writings, what are you talking about–– shot but in all seriousness, happy valentines day!! i wanted to experiment a little with this type of writing since i felt like doing my usual format for hcs won’t be able to convey what i really want to convey, if that makes sense. originally, i was supposed to do for all student characters, but my mind blanked out from friday to sunday. i might do scarabia to diasomnia next month in celebration for white day, so if you like this, look forward to that!!
╰┈➤ 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: @mobagehelllocal for the idea!!
He’s direct. He kisses you without stopping himself, but his lips touch yours like a rose petal touching the ground. Soft. Light. Not completely touching. His hands slightly tremble as they cup your cheeks, as if trying to hold a rose stem.
He pulls away, a respectable distance from you. Grey eyes quiver while gazing at you, the eyes of an Alice lost in her way in this Wonderland and not a Queen of Hearts who commanded the room.
It’s okay, you silently say before placing your lips on his. A muffled yelp leaves his mouth. Shocking. Pleasuring. Loving. He tastes of tea and tarts. Innocence’s sweetness made its home in his tongue, and you’re making a visit to experience it. But then you taste something else. Ineffable, yet you knew. A subtle bitterness, a note of lost childhood. He sighs in content. You feel his smile on your own.
Sugar and spice filling your nose. The hum of the oven. Sticky fingers and dusty aprons. You lean on the messy island from a long day baking. It’s done. It’s finally done.
A sudden sensation. It’s as startling as the prick of a thorn but soft as a petal. You whip your head. In your vision, he chuckles, a sound rich like chocolate ganache. You pout at him. That’s not enough. He comments about spoiling you too much.
You pout even further. Unsatisfied. Needy. Emotions that almost put you in a mad daze.
You pull his apron towards you, strong enough that he follows along. Chocolate-covered lips smack his. He tastes of a busy bakery whose scent wafts around the neighborhood, beckoning people to come and have a taste of such sweetness. Your tongue chases for that sweetness. A deep amused hum rumbles from his throat. Then his tongue overtakes yours.
Hands tangled in his hair. Moans leaving his throat. Teeth grazing your lip. Your tongues dance like feet on a disco floor. Spontaneous. Stimulating. Seducing. Perhaps there are passers-by, but the world no longer matters except the spotlight illuminating you and him. His taste reminds you of car rides under sunset skies. Where music blasts from speakers. Where you sing at the top of your lungs until your voices can’t take it anymore. Passionate. In the moment. Hoping for forever.
But knowing that forever does not exist.
Your lips pull away, letting yourselves breath. But a string of saliva hangs between you two. A manifestation of both your desires for connection.
Your back presses against the stone wall. Arms trap you, blocking your escape. A victorious smirk graces that annoyingly pretty face. The ace is his.
He moves closer until his grin touches your pouty lips. His tongue pushes to enter your mouth, but you block the entrance. This game is not yet over, and you are far from done.
Hands grabbing his hair. Your teeth biting his lower lip. A startled sound leaves his throat immediately followed by a groan. Your tongue traces the mark on his lip, tasting a hint of cherries. A sweetness unbefitting his brattiness, and yet reminding you of a child’s innocence and immaturity.
A mistake you made. He takes his chance and inserts his tongue in your mouth. The cherry taste mixed with hints of artificial flavors takes over your senses. But you aren’t going down so easily. Fighting back, your tongues battle for dominance. Persistent. Frustrated. Determined. Needy mouths refuse to stop until a victor comes out on top.
Your warm breath mingles with his. The distance is so small, yet his lips feel so far. He just needs one more inch. But it seems that it’s a leap he can’t make.
You close the gap. It’s short. Probably less than two seconds. But you briefly taste sunny side up eggs served by mom on sunny Saturday mornings.
Lips part. Yet the distance is still small, the craving for that nostalgic taste keeping you close to him. Was it good, he asks. Eyes that have always been your clear skies are now cloudy with nervousness. You smile. You lean to give him a small peck. Please do it again.
Clouds dispel. His eyes are clear skies once more, the light of joy rivaling the sun. He leans to give another kiss, but this time, longer lasting.
Sheets have long been tossed to the floor. Strong arms wrap around you as lips encase yours. Unprepared. You were unprepared for the loud sounds of sucking and bilabial clicks of your lips. You were unprepared for his tongue entangling in yours. You were unprepared for his fangs that are greedy for your taste.
There’s a hint of today’s popular meaty meal in the kiss. A king that feasts on anything, a glimpse of wealth on your tastebuds. Soon, your lungs start aching, and you move to stop and breathe. But his hold on you tightens. His lips are on yours again.
Greedy. Needy. You almost groan in annoyance. Almost. For somehow, in the midst of the passion, you remember. A king can’t rule alone. Perhaps that loneliness caught up with him. So just this once, you’ll indulge him, losing yourself in the heat of his kisses.
Sweaty. Sticky. Your skin is moist and heated. From the dry air? From the kiss? From both?
Moans leave your lips. Your legs continuously move until they intertwine with his legs. A tug of your hair, and your moans grow louder. Pain and pleasure mixed as one. You tug on his hair, and his reaction is the same. Somehow, the sound spurs you to deepen the kiss. Your tongues chase for each other, like dogs chasing for the nearest pond. You crave for the sweetness he has. Donuts. Your taste buds are overwhelmed with the taste of cheap dough and sugary glaze. A hint of cheap chocolate. You absentmindedly wonder how much he has to work to buy the treats he loves.
He pulls away to let himself breathe, a smirk eventually forming on his face. Congratulating you or mocking you, you couldn’t quite tell. Not bad, he says. And he comes back to your lips. His hunger and thirst for you has not been quenched yet.
His body pressing you down against the mattress. Your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips gently plant themselves on every inch of your face. One kiss. Two. Three. Every kiss holds the same care that a gardener gives to his plants. Seeds of love placed on your skin to remind you that you are his, now and forever.
His mouth finally encases your lips. A thirst finally quenching your parched desires. His kiss is fresh fruit drinks on a day where the hot sun bathes your skin. Cool citrus flavors coat your tongue. Refreshing. His kiss tastes refreshing. And even when he pulls away to let you breathe, the taste of citrus remains in your mouth.
The cold air tickles your skin, yet your body feels warm. The hum of the air conditioner in the room accompanies the melody of the kiss you two share on his chair.
His arms around your waist. Your hands buried in his hair. Smooch. Your sounds of kissing along with his sighs bring you deeper and deeper in the kiss. Was this the sailor’s thoughts when he hears the siren’s call?
Push. Pull. Push. Pull. His lips and tongue move to the rhythm of the waves lapping on a shore. His taste… you can’t quite tell what it is. You taste spices and herbs, sugars and salts. A taste with variety, as abundant as his talents.
Lungs ache. But you don’t leave. You can’t leave. For he beckons you to draw closer, to never leave his side.
Your moans filling the room. His teeth grazing your lip. His tongue entangled in yours, all to please you.
You hold his head closer to you. More. You need more. Please give me more, you beg through the tracing of your tongue on his top lip. Shocking. Addicting. Intoxicating. His taste is a marriage of the sea and the land, a saltiness mixed with earthy flavors. Sparks dance on your lips, coursing through your veins until it reaches your heart. Like a lightning that pierced through your chest, only it felt so good that you drown in the feeling.
You don’t care if you sink to the pleasure that his silver tongue brings. You need more. You’re addicted.
Tight. His limbs around you are tight as he pins you to the bed. His tongue dominates yours, entwining it as if a physical manifestation of binding yourself to him.
You taste so many things that it overwhelms you. A hint of takoyaki, a dash of chips, a note of candy. It leaves you heady, and you want more of it until you can no longer breathe.
You flinch. His teeth dig into your lip. There’s a new taste now, a coppery flavor from the wound he created. It excites your taste buds, and the pain adds a new depth of pleasure. You moan. You grasp onto him. Holding him close and bringing him down with you in this sea of ecstasy.
