How To Write A Kiss Scene

How to write a kiss scene

requested by: anon request: How do I write a good kiss scene? As how do I describe it? What details or words would make it good?

What goes into the writing of a kiss scene?

details to incorporate:

the sensations in their stomach, their chest, and their knees

the way their breathing changes shortly before the kiss

the feeling of the other's hands

the texture of the other's clothing

the moment they realise they've reached the point of no return

the feeling they're left with after the kiss

words to use...

... to describe the kiss:

tentative

tender

hesitant

quick

soft

gentle

delicate

languid

feathery

familiar

exploring

hungry

heated

fiery

frantic

impatient

sloppy

messy

aggressive

... to describe how they feel about the kiss:

nervous

excited

giddy

anxious

apprehensive

ambiguous

surprised

reassured

certain

confident

relieved

eager

greedy

... to show what the lips do:

exploring each other

brushing over each other

locking

devouring

touching

sealing

pressing against each other

capturing

lapping

tasting

crushing together

travelling (the other's body)

trailing (down to the other's chin)

grinning into the kiss

caressing

lingering

... to show how their body reacts:

feeling warm all over

buzzing

humming

pumping/palpitating heart

clenching lungs

joy bubbling up

tingly stomach

warm chest

burning cheeks

sweaty palms

blood rushing through their veins

... to describe what their hands are doing:

tangling in their lover's hair

wrapping their arms around their lover's neck

intertwining their fingers with their lover

resting on their lover's hips

pressing into their lover's shoulder blades

cupping their lover's cheeks

touching their lover's chin

curling their arm around their lover's waist

resting on their lover's shoulders

grabbing their lover's collar

sneaking up under their lover's shirt

brushing over their lover's bare skin

lightly squeezing their lover's butt

focus on:

the sensations instead of what's physically happening. (the protagonists might very well not know themselves what is happening exactly, but they feel very precisely)

I hope this helps <3

Beautiful😍

Dawn

Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader

I've had a hard time feeling inspired to write much lately. But here is a small thing for my friends who need something gentle. Silky fluff + fade to black with an unmasked Vincent.

It is a rare occasion when you fall asleep beside Vincent and he is there in the morning. Today when you awake in your room, not only is he still in your bed, but he is still sleeping. You shift a little, careful not to jostle him, rolling onto your side so you can look at him. 

He is serene in sleep, lips slightly parted, lashes thick and delicate against his cheek. His hair is bunched unevenly behind his neck in a dark tangle. His elegant hand is curled beside him on the pillow, motionless for once. He is statuesque in profile, a masterwork made flesh. The light filtering pale and rosy through the blinds softens the sloping angles of his face. 

You place a gentle hand on the bare skin of his shoulder, unable to resist the temptation of touching him. Like someone has let you into the Louvre and removed all the velvet ropes.

Vincent inhales deeply, breathes out a velvety, vocal sigh, and his lashes flutter. You caress his palm with your fingertips and lace your fingers through his. His gaze finds your face and he smiles. It is a smile uninhibited, a gift of his fast-receding peace, a full smile that twists the scar tissue on the right side of his mouth. 

"Good morning, angel," you murmur. "I'm sorry I woke you."

He hmms, squeezes your hand, arches his back in a long, lazy stretch. With his free hand he twists his hair out from under his neck and splays it across the pillow. 

You smile and he reaches out to stroke your face. "You sleep well?" 

He nods once. You lean in and kiss him, soft and slow, release his hand and let him pull you into him. His torso is long and lean, skin warm and damp with the heat of sleep. You touch his ribs, his hip, sweep your fingers through the hair on his stomach and lower, feel the hitch against your thigh as his body responds. 

You pull away, lean away, and he furrows his brow. "It's late," you tease. "Gotta go start breakfast."

He grunts and tugs you back, coils his arms around you and pulls you on top of him. You grin and kiss him again. 

"C'mon, we gotta get up."

He grasps your ass, bends one knee and grinds up against you. The look in his eye is plaintive, persuasive, positively manipulative. 

"Vincent," you whisper. 

The arousal between your legs is undeniable. You are attracted to him the way the earth guides birds back home after winter. Your thumb traces the right side of his jaw, skirts the line between pink scar tissue and unmarked skin. His expression is open, unguarded. His trust is too precious to acknowledge, for even the breath of the words you use to thank him would be enough to rattle it. 

So you kiss him again instead, slide your fingers into his hair, show him how you feel in other ways. He understands you. Words are obsolete. 

refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

I can't stop.

Pairing: Vincent Sinclair x gn!reader

Warnings: eating disorders, disordered eating habits, self hate, suicidal thoughts (hinted at), just general angst

A/N: I'm sorry, I really hope this won't trigger anyone. I'm having a hard time with food lately and I needed to get it out. I am just writing about my experiences, every prrson has different problems. This can be read as either romantic or platonic, also, reader knows sign language.

He would often see you in the kitchen cooking dinner for him and Bo and ocassionally Lester when he'd come around. But he knew damn well you weren't going to eat any of it.

You'd react to all the compliments from his brothets with a truly grateful smile, but while they'd be getting seconds, you were still poking around your plate, putting tiny pieces of this and that in your mouth from time to time. And when everyone was done, you placed the leftovers into a container, which was sure to be taken care of by Bo the next day when he'd take it for lunch or you'd talk Lester into taking it with him to his.

Vincent knew damn well how Lester hid his worry behind the bashful smile. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but how wwas he supposed to take your meal away from you? The masked artist suspected you didn't really buy his half fake modesty, but that didn't deter you from laughing gently while insisting Lester takes the container, because it would dissapoint you if he wouldn't.

And Bo...well, Bo had to know. Because he was Bo. And because of the same reason, he didn't say anything. But Vincent didn't miss the sadness and worry in his twins' eyes when every morning, while Bo and Vincent were enjoying their breakfast, you were quietly hesitating on how many teaspoons of sugar to put in your tea.

But, for some reason, nobody did a goddamn thing. Everyone pretendid everything was fine, yet all four of you knew that domestic sweetness was fake. A thin plastic wrap that would tear with the first sharp word. But Vincent felt suffocated and something inside him told him he wasn't alone.

It was strangely haunting, seeing you go through all those strange rituals as if it was the easiest thing to do. Every day, all your portions were exactly the same. The exact same food at exactly the same time. But there were times your routine was interrupted. In those moments you were so preoccupied in calculating and speculating and imagining that the sculptor could practically see the smoke coming from your ears and you didn't even know he was there. The way your hands hovered over the door handle of the fridge, retracting them and then reaching out again at least three times before you opened it only to open it and repeat.

Sometimes Bo would catch you like this as well and he'd playfully scold you and joke about how the food isn't going to run away. You'd all but slam the door shut with a terrified look on your face. The air would ve filled with tense silence for a bit as Bo's chuckling would die out and you'd wring your hands together nervously, a habit of yours the brothers noticed.

Or when sometimes during movie night, if he could call it that, after you'd politely decline the snacks offered to you, you'd suddenly go into the kitchen and open up different cupboards with food ranging from sweets to fruit. You never really ate any of it, you just looked at it, sometimes picked it up, before putting it back and rejoining them in front of the tv.

It was when he saw the measuring tape placed in the cup with your toothbrush and toothpaste was what made him realize how severe the situation could get if it wasn't already.

Vincent's had enough. He wasn't mad at you, no, quite the opposite. His heart was breaking for you, seeing you lose yourself to the thoughts speeding through your brain every minute of every day, getting consumed by the very thing that should be keeping you happy, letting the thing that was supposed to keep you alive slowly kill you.

He texted Bo and Lester for a bit, just to let them know what he was planning to do and to discuss the best type of approach with them, because the brothers knew how important right communication was in their line of business. And when all was said and agreep upon, it was time to act.

The house was empty, it was just after dinner, Bo was in the barhroom taking a shower and you set up to wash the dishes. While trying not to get grossed out by the soppy bits of food stuck to the plates and whatnot, Vincent, ever so quiet, stopped next to you and grabbed a towel to dry whatever you'd wash.

At first it was quiet, peaceful almost. And yet there was a tension in the air and something told the artist he wasn't the only one who felt it.

Surprisingly, it was you who broke the ice "Is something the matter?" you asked, glancing at the masked man with worry. Vincent looked down at the fork he was drying and nodded a few times.

Feeling your wet hand grab his as it abandoned its task, the action prompted him to look at you. He knew that look. In just a few seconds you would start fussing over him, bless your soul. You had no idea what was actually going on.

Setting down the towel and the dried fork, Vincent hesitated, but as soon as you opened your mouth to no doubt try and coax him into talking, he signed "You didn't eat your dinner."

He noticed your throat move as you swallowed wjile you froze. In a moment, it was gone and you shrugged, suddenly seeming uninterested "Yeah...But it's no big deal, I wasn't really hungry." you said and began to turn away from him, wanting to continue washing the dishes, but Vincent wouldn't let you do that. It wasn't fair that you were prepared to fuss over him until he'd resolve anyproblem he had but as soon as you were the topic of the conversation, you shut yourself off. For a fleeting moment he thought if Bo was rubbing off on you, before chasing those thoughts away. Now it was his turn to grab your hand, a biz wrinkly from the water already.

"You never eat dinner." the man signed, his eye staring right at you as if it was trying to dig into your skull. "Yeah, well, I don't get hungry much." you shrugged, your gaze falling to the floor as your hands began their usual nervous dance, where knuckles were popped and fingers pulled.

Vincent knew you were trying to avoid the issue he was pointing out, but due to how you acted, he could feel the imaginary wrap stretching uncomfortably.

"That's not really healthy." His hands moved smoothly as he tilted his head. You frowned "What I did before was unhealthy. I'm much better now." Just who were you trying to assure? Him or yourself? Vincent thought as his hands moved more frantically "You don't seriously think that."

"It's not easy, but following any schedule isn't. I'm handling it. I have it under control." You said sternly as you awaited his comeback. "For how long though?" Came a simple question. "When will it be enough? When will you allow yorself to stop?" Another one and another right after. You kept silent, your lips pursed.

"Never." Vincent answered himself. "Why are you doing this?" you asked quietly, but it still didn't hide how your voice quivered. "I could ask you the same thing." He signed and then waited.

You chuckled and brought your hands to your eyes to wipe away the moisture beginning to form there. "I wanted to be better. This just seemed like the easiest thing to start with." you took a deep breatg "I tried, so hard. But then...it wasn't enough. The results weren't good enough, the changes weren't fast enough." You looked up at the celining, noticing the cobwebs in the corner that you'd need to get rid off.

"So I adjustes. And again and again." you shut your eyes tightly as your voice began to strain "When you try over and over again with very little results, it makes you want to give up. But I can't, Vincent. I've worked so hard to get to where I am, if I stopped now, all the pain would be for nothing." You nodded your head, dropping your gaze to the floor as you let your tears 'plip plop' on the floor "I wanted to be better. Now I just want to disappear."

When the first sob ripped out of your throat, it was already muffled by the fabric of an old sweater which you clung onto as if your life dependee on it.

Oh, my gods. This shattered my heart in the best pf ways. It's so well written! Thank you so much! If you're ever feeling up to posting part 2, I would love to read it! Just, with a happy ending please😅 and if you could tag me in it, I would be really grateful <333

Hello! I'd like to request a one shot with Om Simeon x gn MC please ^^ Now, I read in your rules you're alright with writing heavy themed fics, but I still would like to give a heads up for the content of my request. Can I ask for MC askimg Simeon if suicide is really a sin? Maybe they've attempted in the past and things are getting worse in the present time amd they're getting lost in that same headspace? So like, they're wondrring what would happen with them after they'd die? Sorry if this is too specific, if it's too much for you, feel free to ignore it, just let me know please! Thank you so much have a wonderful day byeeee!

Sure :) Warning! This will have talk about suicide being selfish and a sin//

Characters: Simeon

Genre: angst,comfort,angst to comfort

Format: oneshot

Pronouns: they/them

--------------------------------

"Is suicide truly a sin?"

“Is suicide truly a sin?”

Simeon didn’t think much of the question, a simple frown adorning his face. 

“I hate to think about this topic to be honest. But, if we’re talking technicalities, then yes.” he said with a sigh. 

“Oh, ok.” you said plainly. “And what do you think..? Away from the technicalities and angel stuff?”

He looked up and pondered for a moment. 

“I think so too.”

You looked at him, wearing a sort of betrayed expression. He wasn’t looking at you though. He was still looking up at the sky as he continued his response.

“You were put on this earth for a reason. God put you on this earth for a reason…I mean, throwing away the holy gift of life because what? You’re feeling down? It’s all a bit selfish, don’t you think MC?

When he finally looked your way, he saw you turned away from him and shivering. 

“MC?” he went to place his hand on your shoulder.

You tried your best to explain to him, despite your hitching breath and gasps for air. 

“No it’s not selfish…I’m not selfish..” You hoped he’d understand what you were implying.

Though you were choking on sobs, he understood. 

He pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your head. There were no words to make up for what he just said to you. 

You shook and sobbed in his arms. You loved him the most and he loved you the most. Why couldn’t he understand? Why did he say those things? Does he really believe that? You didn’t know. 

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You cried yourself to sleep in his arms and woke up to him playing with your hair. 

Your nose was stuffed and your throat hurt. You felt terrible. 

“MC, I’m glad you’re awake..”

You were numb. You didn’t care about the pain and you didn’t care about him. You wanted comfort and you didn’t receive it. 

“What if I killed myself right now, tonight?” you said blankly.

Simeon looked shocked and leaned in to look into your eyes. He saw nothing.

“Would you think that I was nothing but a selfish sinner when I’m gone??”

It was his turn to cry now. “No..That’s not…”

You were sobbing again now. 

“MC…I’m so sorry i didn’t know I didn’t-”

You got up and looked at him through your tears and anger.

You then stormed out of his room and ran. You didn’t know where. But you ran.

If he can’t understand you, who could?

For @robin-the-enby :

If you want a part 2, message me or send another ask I’ll be happy to write it!

- Just let me know whether you want a happy or sad ending :)

I've come to the conclusion that my type is "covered in blood"