quaranmeme | MISTLEGLOW: a kissing meme

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!mod meme: holiday

MISTLEGLOW: a kissing meme

mistleglow: a kissing meme

Some residents may remember that back in September, a love-drunk and confusion-spell-addled newlywed mage from Gramarye Magic Research let loose some pretty little fairy lights that trapped people in the city in little invisible bubbles until they kissed (and any kind of kiss would do). Well, the same slightly-less-newlywed but no less romantically-inclined mage happens to really, really enjoy the winter season, and thinks it's totally romantic. That particular sentiment is pretty common in the Quarantine - while Hygge is the celebration of familial love, the residents of the Quarantine all agree that that family often includes partners and lovers. Besides that, the folklore of mistletoe as being representative of love and friendship is something that the Quarantine has in common with the universes many residents inhabit.

So, as the last week and a half of December rolls around, residents around the Quarantine will see the result of the resident romantic trying to share a bit of Hygge love - small, glowing sprigs of mistletoe will be floating around the Quarantine, ready to trap people up and make them share a bit of affection.

how it works

● Two or more characters walking under one of these glowing, floating sprigs will get stuck for one hour, trapped inside an invisible enclosure with an approximate three foot radius. The only options are to either wait out the hour, or to kiss! Characters will know they're meant to kiss, because part of the magic spell is the sudden and intense knowledge that they should kiss in order to break free. There is no compulsion to kiss, just the knowledge that that's how to get free. This time, instead of any kind of kiss working, there will be different types of kisses that will work to release the trapped residents depending on the color of mistleglow:

RED: MOUTH ● ORANGE: NECK ● YELLOW: CHEEK
GREEN: FOREHEAD ● BLUE: HAND ● VIOLET: BUTTERFLY

Trapped residents will not know what kind of kiss will work for each color and may have to experiment before finding the right one.

● Post up a top-level for your character with the types of kisses you're interested in threading out, and then go forth and have your character kiss (or refuse to kiss) others!
● This meme is for characters already accepted into the game to play with the mistleglow prompt from this month's test drive meme. If your character is not yet accepted into the game, please use the TDM post!
● This meme is GAME CANON, so any threads played out in this meme can be carried through into the actual canon of the game.
● Much like the TDM, threads on this meme can count for Activity Points, but not the monthly Activity Check.

header image is from santa's factory by Clement Danveau

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Okay. Cool. This is good. That's a good reaction, and he's glad for it, considering a maneuver like this hasn't always gone well for him.

(Once, he had been unceremoniously dumped out of the bed while his company for the evening had shouted in disgust.

Not a great night.)

She pulls him closer, presses into him, and Peter hums quietly in equal parts approval and encouragement, and he presses his tongue against her again, takes her nipple between his teeth in a light pinch. He switches to her other breast to offer it the same attention.

It seems only fair, he thinks, that if Gamora gets to explore him, he gets to explore her. ]

[ Complaining is fairly low on her list of priorities, and Gamora intends to bask in the attention as Peter offers it. She's never truly allowed any of her partners to discover her body, always taken full control as long as she needed to for the sake of whatever task she was accomplishing – be it murder, information-gathering, or otherwise. If she held the reins, the encounter was hers, no matter how little interest she may have had in it. She chose what she allowed, and somehow that made it easier to ply marks with her body in the same manner she would wield a sword.

Her breathing stutters at the light scrape of teeth, and she realizes she's far more sensitive than she'd previously anticipated. Maybe it's because she's truly allowing herself to enjoy what Peter's doing or that she's already so aroused from the kissing, the groping, from seeing Peter moan for her. Whatever the case, she practically squirms under him as he moves to her previously neglected breast, a softer moan leaving her as her fingers reflexively tighten and release – ostensibly continuing to telegraph what she likes. The right flick, the perfect pressure makes her grab at his curls before reminding herself to ease back all over again. ]

Peter.

[ Just his name at the same pitch as that quieter moan; it's gentler, a fraction – a flicker – of vulnerability. ]

[ It's— really fucking hot, the way she moves beneath him, the quiet noises she makes, the way her breath hitches whenever he hits something just right. Even when her grip tightens in his hair, it sends heat surging through him, and he makes a strained, startled sound for it.

(It's a good sound, though. The sort of sound that says, "Oh fuck, I think I'm into that.")

And there's his name again, and god, that quality of her voice is good. Fantastic. Almost a gift, because he's never heard it before – hell, a part of him wonders if anyone ever has – and he slips that memory away to be treasured.

He takes it as his sign to move things along, and he shifts, teasing her folds with the head of his cock – though that move is something of a double-edged sword, since the warmth of her, how wet she is, makes him moan quietly. Slowly, carefully, he slides himself in with gentle little thrusts, all the while listening for her reactions in case he needs to back off.

But once he's fully inside her, he takes a moment to catch his breath, holding himself up on one elbow while his other hand cups her cheek. He searches her face.

Checking again, though silently this time, as if to ask, Is this still okay? ]

[ As much as she'd like to give him all the time in the world to map her body with his hands, his mouth – and she'd like to return the favor – that impatient need burns low in her belly. Physically, every inch of her is screaming for him to fuck her, but something that clenches so sweetly in her chest wants this so she can be— close to him.

She would never admit that aloud, shockingly sentimental as it may be, but it's there in the dark softness of her eyes behind her lashes.

She's grateful he doesn't keep her waiting much longer, and a gasp catches in her throat as he finally – finally – begins to fill her. Her fingers remain in his hair, but her other arm comes up around his back, gripping his broad shoulders like he's the only thing anchoring her in place as her muscles clench around him. When was the last time she even did this, she has to wonder? It's never felt like this to begin with, but it's been a long damn time, anyway, and she's tight, so damnably wet, and she might actually kill Peter if he tries to pull out of her now.

She pants softly beneath him, quiet sounds catching occasionally on each little gasp, but then he's just looking at her. Warm and open and caring about her.

That aches in the best way.

She shifts to hook her legs around his hips, tightening like she can pull him even more flush against her – but also ensuring he doesn't go anywhere.

Yes, yes, so very much yes.

Instead of yanking, the fingers in his hair are gentle, combing through and brushing errant locks from his forehead, and even through her breathlessness, through the glassy haze in her eyes—

She smiles at him. ]

[ He breathes out a slightly surprised sound when she hooks her leg around him, pulling him in closer; he nearly breathes out a laugh, but—

That smile punches the air out of him, and for a few seconds, he forgets to move, forgets to even breathe, with how startled he is by it. His chest twists with it, tender and warm, and he can't help but smile back.

God, he thinks he— no, he knows he—

Not for the first time, he thinks, he's absolutely, completely—

... no. Ugh. That's way too heavy. That's a thought for another time. That's something for when they aren't stumbling their way through this whole relationship thing.

So for now, he ducks down to claim her lips – a quick, gentle kiss at first, at least until he reminds himself to move, slowly pulling out (even if the leg around his hips limits that a bit) and pressing back in. A few passes, and eventually he finds a rhythm, still listening for her reactions, waiting for her direction to either speed up or slow down. ]

[ That smile shouldn't do the things to her that it does. Nothing should send warmth singing through like this, so separate from need that builds with every slow rock of his hips. But all he has to do is look at her, smile at her, kiss her, and she's swept away by something she can't even name. Sweeter than any chocolate, better than any catchy song, more satisfying than a skillful victory – it's just Peter.

What the hell has he done to her?

She kisses him back, sweet and easy, breaking away only to gasp out a moan of approval as he settles into a rhythm, and it's— perfect. Far be it for Gamora to keep still, though, and she arches against him, presses into each slow thrust to undulate with every slide of his cock. Part of her had been concerned they might not be compatible, that something might not fit right, given their difference in species, but that concern has flown right out the window because he feels so damn good.

She lifts her head from the pillow, messy curls haphazardly framing her face, clinging to her cheeks, as she noses at Peter's jaw, kisses and nips higher to catch the spot behind his ear with a swipe of her tongue. ]

Don't stop.

[ Don't ever stop. ]

[ Oh, thank god.

He was hoping she'd say that. Or, like, at least he was hoping she was thinking that, because even if he would stop if she asked. If she told him right then and there that this wasn't happening anymore, he'd happily back off, but he's pretty sure he'd, like, fall straight off the bed in a dead faint.

But she responds in kind, meeting him thrust for thrust, pressing against him so that her body is a long line of heat against his. Each touch of their bare skin sends something thrumming through him, like the hum of a magnet, and he seeks out more and more contact with her. He mouths at her neck, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and panting against her shoulder.

They find their rhythm together, and as they do, Peter feels that golden heat pooling in him, flowing through him, building and building until he feels like he's nearing that edge – close, but not quite falling over. ]

[ She needed this. She needed it, and she didn't even know it, because she'd been shut off from this piece of herself for so long. But here, she can be swept away in the moment, in Peter, and this is just one more instance of Gamora getting to be... Gamora. It feels like her sexuality was yet another part of herself that Thanos stripped away, forced into the role of weaponry, but no more. She's this, here with Peter, connected in every possible way, and she can't think of anywhere else she'd rather be.

The sounds of their breathing, of skin sliding against skin, moans and gasps and snippets of words— Gamora's senses are overwhelmed. Pleasure sparks through her with every point of contact, and the longer he fucks her, the more intense that electricity becomes. ]

Peter—

[ Gasped against his ear, higher, needier, as she detaches one hand from his shoulders, slipping between their bodies to find where they're joined. She rolls her clit with a somewhat less-practiced touch, but that doesn't seem to matter much as her muscles tighten around his cock with each jolt through her system. ]

Harder—

[ Let it never be said that Peter doesn't take direction well.

Because he's pretty sure he'd do almost anything Gamora asked – though he may kick up a bit of a fuss beforehand, just to keep up appearances. And this particular direction is easy enough to follow.

He picks up his pace, thrusts into her with more purpose, and fuck, she's so tight and hot and wet around him, her walls clenching down on his cock. He shifts to claim her lips again, the kiss bruising and desperate and frantic as he moves up to that edge, as that heat coils in him, tighter and tighter, higher and higher. ]

[ It's exactly what she needs – harder, faster, deeper – and the sounds falling from her lips are far freer, less controlled until he's kissing her all over again. She loses herself in the kiss, even as teeth catch on skin, gasps and moans muffled between them.

She's so close, so painfully close—

And the climax breaks over her in waves before she can brace herself.

Sensations sweep through her system, making her arch and tremble against him, her mouth tearing away from his for an unfettered cry. She doesn't stifle herself as her body tenses, muscles clamping around his cock, as she shakes her way through it, and instead of going limp and boneless, she just clings to him. ]

[ He's not too far behind, swearing low and heated against her throat as she pulls him in close, as she tightens around him. Fuck, she sounded good like that, and she feels equally amazing, and the way she clings to him makes him thrust harder and faster until he's lost the rhythm.

He comes, moaning her name like a prayer, and he buries his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her, one hand tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck.

Unlike Gamora, once he's spent, he falls against her, almost boneless. He has the presence of mind to keep himself partially propped up on an elbow, though, to avoid smothering her entirely, but he's definitely going to need a few seconds (a few minutes, possibly a few hours?) before he has energy enough to move again. ]

[ There's something thrilling about feeling him come, shaking and gasping against her, filling her as he moans her name.

She loves it.

But in the wake of that intense pleasure, she feels like she's floating as she holds onto him, warm and content and totally at ease, tangled and messy as they are. She nuzzles at the angle of his jaw, dropping absent little kisses over skin that she can reach, and barely paying any mind to how... affectionate she's being.

Apparently, Gamora, the deadliest woman in the universe, is especially cuddly after sex.

Peter will obviously lose every limb he possesses if he tells anyone.]

[ A small, irrational part of him had assumed that the instant they were done, the instant Gamora had recovered, she might have— pushed away or something. That the intimacy of the moment might have freaked her out or something, so when he feels her nosing just beneath his jaw, pressing soft, gentle kisses against him, he blinks with surprise.

Then he thinks, Oh.

He could definitely get used to this.

And it's definitely a fact he intends to keep to himself, both because he values his life, and because he likes having her all to himself.

He pulls away just long enough to resettle himself onto his side, lying beside her on the bed, and he lifts up her hand, presses a feather-light kiss to her knuckles. ]

You're amazing. You know that?

[ Reluctantly, Gamora lets him move away to lie beside her, and she rolls onto her own side, watching him with a lazy smile as he kisses her hand. ]

You seem to think so.

[ And it still... awes her sometimes. The way Peter looks at her is so completely different from the way anyone has in the past, and if she's honest, she never thought someone would look at her this way. She feels seen.

It's a gift.

She scoots in, closing the distance between them to rest her forehead against Peter's, her nose gently knocking against his. ]

Thank you.

[ He lets her hand drop in favor of wrapping an arm around her waist, letting their legs tangle together.

Yeah, he could very definitely get used to this. A year ago, all of this would scare the shit out of him – feeling like he was inextricably tied with someone. It would have felt smothering, almost, but now, it just felt— comforting. Maybe not comfortable, because this was still new for both of them, but he doesn’t mind stumbling.

He hummed softly, contentedly, as her nose brushed against his, as their brows pressed together, and he smiled a little. ]

What are you thanking me for?

[ Because if it’s for thinking that Gamora is fantastic then, you know, that’s absolutely not a problem. And he’s pretty sure that’s not worth any shows of gratitude, but he’ll happily take it. ]

[ She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, somewhat dismissive of that scrap of her own gratitude. She doesn't say "thank you" often – or much at all, really – so explaining it feels just as unfamiliar. ]

For... all of this.

[ Vague, but it encapsulates everything she is grateful for – the way he's treated her, the way this thing between them has developed, what they've made of their life here...

Every piece of it. ]

[ He bites down on his first impulse to make a joke.

(Do you mean the sex? he wants to ask. Because don’t worry – there’s gonna be a lot more where that came from.)

There’s more to it than Gamora’s saying, he knows, though god knows if he’d ever be able to figure it out on his own. This doesn’t feel like something he can easily joke about – not without Gamora clamming up in a way that sets them back again, or in a way that’d make her feel embarrassed or vulnerable.

So instead, he shifts back just enough to press a kiss to the center of her forehead, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. ]

Anything for you.

[ As his lips brush against her forehead, Gamora releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Sometimes, she's uncertain how Peter will respond to bits of vulnerability from her; not out of a desire to be unkind, but because he might not understand why something would be sensitive.

... The way he reacts now is another thing to be grateful for.

She relaxes slowly, and shifts close again, tucking herself against Peter's chest to enjoy the press of his skin to hers. Their legs are tangled with knees knocking, her own arm slipping out to curl around his back and press her palm between his shoulders. This is... good. Really good.

Even if they're both sticky and messy.

Oh, well. ]

I think I may enjoy this mistletoe tradition.

[ Ha... ha... ha... ]

[ Peter tries to smother a grin at that. He forgets, sometimes, how alien Earth must seem, considering he’s spent thirty years entrenched in about a billion different cultures. ]

It, uh. Doesn’t usually end like that. Just so we’re clear.

It usually stops at the kissing.

[ She rolls her eyes, giving his back a light pinch. ]

I assumed kissing was the only expectation.

[ Sex just happened to... happen. ]

[ He snorts out a laugh, though with the pinch he sucked in an overblown hiss, batting half-heartedly at her hand. ]

C’mon. That hurts.

[ No, it doesn’t. ]

I just wanted to make sure, man. You’re not familiar with Terran customs.

Edited 2018-01-12 01:31 (UTC)

Undoubtedly excruciating.

[ Another pinch – just slightly harder. ]

How many Terran customs intentionally involve sex?

[ His hiss is slightly more genuine that time. ]

C'mon, man.

[ This time, he takes her wrist, tangling his fingers with hers and drawing their joined hands between them. ]

And you'll be relieved to know the answer is "not many."

[ Rather than continue to be difficult, she seems to think Peter’s gotten the amount of pinching he deserved, and she links their fingers easily, pulling them up for a light kiss when he settles their hands between them. ]

I will remember that the next time you try to insist something absurd is an actual tradition.

[ A pause, and he grins at her. ]

So I probably shouldn't tell you about the proud tradition of Groundhog Day, huh?

MISTLEGLOW: a kissing meme

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