#i just wanted something cozy!! i'm in the mood to be mushy!!

[thegreatobsesso]

Where I give my characters the most perfect winter ball I could ever dream of just to ruin their lives 😈

Snippet I'm editing that's almost the very end of book 2 / 3. Aiming to hit all the ominous notes.

Callie POV

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, squinting at her as they maneuvered around the rest of the staff on the dance floor. Some of the kids even dared to join in, mostly putting their hands on each other’s waists and shoulders and swaying back and forth. It was actually really cute.  “I’m more alright than I’ve ever been,” she said, and meant it. “Hey, umm. Thanks.”  He made a funny face. “For what?”  Bleh. “All the stuff,” she muttered. “For letting me stay here, and dealing with me when I’m nasty, and all that.”  He smiled: a big smile that lit him up from the inside out. Oh, hell. If there was ever a time to go all-out, wasn’t it now?  “For just, not givin’ up on me no matter what,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks. “For turnin’ me into, I dunno, a good person.”  “I didn’t turn you into anything.”  “Bull shit you didn’t.”  “Callie, all I did was be kind to you. You did the rest on your own.”  Ahh, he was starting to piss her off. Instead of telling him so or kicking him, she moved closer and laid her forehead against his shoulder. The music slowed down like it only existed to suit her mood. She didn’t have to speak - he understood. Everything was... well, it was damn near perfect, wasn’t it?  A cold wind blew across the bridge. She lifted her head in surprise.  Bennett wore a strained expression, like he was listening to something in the distance. “Riley’s here,” he said.  She laughed out loud. What a silly thing to say. They were suspended in a snow globe, cozy and safe. The notion that somebody like Riley could even exist in a space so warm and soft was beyond imagination.  “Sir,” Miller said, having broken off the dance with his daughter to tap Bennett on the shoulder. “There’s a visitor at the guest house who’s asking to see you.”  Her pulse quickened. “No,” she murmured, unsure what she was even objecting to. “No, Bennett. No.”  He still had that faraway look in his eyes like he could hear something no one else could, but he made an effort to bring himself back and focus on her. “I’ll be right back,” he said - placating.  She lunged for him, holding him back by the sleeve of his jacket. “Don’t,” she said stupidly, “don’t go, please Bennett, please-”  “Easy,” he said, and nodded at Miller, who didn’t have a clue what she was on about. She didn’t care. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t even know why. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated, slower this time. “Stay here, Callie, please.”  She understood - that he didn’t want her making a scene, but she didn’t understand why - why he looked so worried, why he got so serious when he’d just been so mushy, why he was throwing on his coat and rushing out of the castle without her.  She followed him to a point, stopping in the middle of the entrance hall, utterly helpless. Bennett opened the big doors and disappeared into the dark. 

t a g l i s t @avrablake​ @adie-dee​ @dontjudgemeimawriter​ @ryorine​ @thelaughingstag​ @winterandwords​ @afoolandathief​ @asomeoneperson​ @cedar-west​ @diphthongsfordays​ @lowslore​ @poetinprose​ @cilly-the-writer​​​​​​​​ @harps-for-days​

[httpiastri]

after care with either lando or oscar

just something quick for this ask, thanks to my friends on discord for inspo <3<3

lando norris

– i feel like lando would be so so soft afterwards

– soft as in like mushy and giggly

– he just wants to cuddle you

– he would need to have you as close as possible, like it's something he craves

– just needs to feel your skin pressed up against him, even though he's just been buried deep inside of you

– tbh i definitely think he would be up for some cockwarming...

– i feel like it would start off the first time with like. having fucked after a long race weekend, and he's just completely exhausted. so after you both climax, he just doesn't pull out. his hands stay propped on your hips, holding you close, even when you try to wriggle out of his grip

– and when you ask him about it or give him a confused look, he just smiles as his eyes flutter closed, before nuzzling his face into your hair

– "it feels so nice. you're so warm, so cozy, this feels so good... i never wanna pull out."

– "you're gonna have to eventually, love."

– "tomorrow morning, then?"

– he doesn't care if you're both sticky, messy or clammy, he just doesn't want to let go of you, even for a second

– kisses to the top of your head !!!

oscar piastri

– even when he's tired, having spent all energy on pleasing you, he would wanna do something, like draw you a bath, take a shower together or give you a massage

– he would want you to feel fresh and clean and brand new

– but sometimes neither of you have any energy for it and that's fine too

– he would still wanna help you clean up though, getting up and bringing back a wet towel or something from the bathroom

– always so so careful, with soft strokes along your body and his free hand massaging you to distract you from the uncomfortable sensations

– he would love to either have you on his chest, brushing his fingers up and down your spine or arm

– OR he would wanna lie on your chest, having your fingers in his hair and having you braid his locks or just play with them

– loads of collarbone kisses

– he would kiss your bruised skin and take care of all the marks he's left behind

– praises !!!!!!!

– "you did so well for me. my good girl."

– also apologies if he had been in a mood tho :((

– "was i too rough? did it hurt? i'm sorry if i got too into it, i just..."

– and then it's your job to reassure him that no, he wasn't too rough, he was perfect

– lets his finger draw along your features, down your jawline, along your nose, connecting your moles

– just so much love <3<3

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

OC-Tober Day 28 - Rest

(from @/oc-growth-and-development’s OC-tober list)

Well, I slid a little backwards into my writing slump, but I wrote this before the event started so I figured that I might as well put it out there anyway!

I’ve had this silly little scene of my wife and I’s d&d girls kicking around my brain for years now, honestly. The concept got a little tainted not so very long ago, but I decided the best way to overthrow that was to just. Go ahead and write the damn thing. So I did!

Have my Val and @colonelcupquake‘s Rona being cozy. ~1100 words

----

The hammock had taken twice as long to set up as the rest of camp, but Val was nothing if she was not stubborn. 

Her argument had been thus: if she had spent years slinging canvas and rope between beams on a ship, then by all rights, she should have no problem doing so between the trunks of trees. The reality was that trees lacked all the convenient little nooks and crannies of crossbeams, and that sailcloth was hard to find further inland, and even harder to lug around. That left only the simple weaves she could find at local trade stops, the sort that she looped around her shifty knotwork while praying to whatever god or powerful, otherworldly mage that was still listening that the whole thing didn't collapse underneath her. 

It hadn't, yet, but the groaning of the ropes threatened.

She had just finished adding a second line to the ends of the hammock and had stepped back to examine her work when Rona appeared beside her, head cocked to one side.

"So this is what you've been up to," she said. Somehow, the words came out all curiosity, without the slightest hint of teasing. Val appreciated that; even her wounded pride wouldn't let her deny how haphazardly she had fumbled her makeshift hammock into existence.

"More or less," she said, shrugging. "Doesn't look pretty, but it didn't break when I tested it. That's something."

"Definitely something," Rona hummed. She picked her way over to the hammock and flattened her hands into the curve of it, pressing her entire weight straight down. The ropes creaked gently, but the hammock mercifully didn't fall.

"You can give it a try," Val offered, stepping up beside her. "It held me. I doubt you'll give it much of a problem."

"Knowing your work, I'm pretty sure we could pile all of us in here and not give it much of a problem," said Rona with a sidelong grin. Val huffed, but denying the little blossom of warmth in her chest at the faintest scratch of praise from Rona was like denying gravity, or coming rain. She offered her hand instead, which Rona took obligingly before stepping back and flinging herself bodily into the hammock. 

“Not bad,” she said when it stopped pitching sideways, wiggling to arrange herself inside. “A nice change of pace from the ground, for sure. Probably too hard to set up often, though. And it needs a pillow.”

She glanced pointedly up to Val, who snickered and swept into a low, theatrical bow.

“Your will, Your Grace,” she said, with as much dour resonance as she could manage while laughing. Then she turned and started towards the piles of fabric that Sarula had arranged at the edge of their meager camp, only to stagger as her captive hand was yanked backwards. 

When she turned, blinking, towards the hammock, Rona was staring up at her with one eyebrow raised and gesturing pointedly to the space beside her.

Fondness welled up through the hollows of Val’s chest, the deep, thought-numbing, flooding sort that only Rona had ever seemed to wake in her. She turned back, feeling her mouth curl into the stupid, love-sick grin that she knew meant she was about to do whatever was asked of her. She let her good sense have one last go at winning her over anyway.

“I don’t think it’ll hold both of us.”

“It will,” said Rona immediately, with a wave of her free hand. “Or it won’t, and it’ll be funny. But it will. C’mon, Val.”

She tugged again, gentler now, but Val had already been done in by her name in pleading tones. Sighing the long-suffering sigh of the thoroughly defeated, Val gestured Rona to one side of the narrow stretch of fabric, double checked her knots, and then gingerly clambered her way in.

It took no small amount of figuring - and a few giggling shoves at offending limbs in decidedly offended stomachs - but very soon they were laying side by side, Rona curled heavily in the crux of Val’s arm, breathing ticklish sighs of content across her collarbone. Their arrangement had left Val with both legs dangling uncomfortably over both sides of the hammock, and with her tail squashed to pins and needles beneath her, but Val had never once fretted about her own discomfort over someone else’s, and she didn’t intend to start now. With monumental effort, she extracted her arm from where it was pinned against the hammock’s side and slid it onto Rona’s back, rubbing lazy circles into the tight bands of muscle there. Another hum of satisfaction washed against the skin of her neck. If Rona could purr, it sounded very much like she would have started. 

“Told you,” the halfling muttered, more sigh than word. “Now you can do this all the time.”

“Oh, I can do this all the time, can I?” Val shifted her hand to squeeze at the little peak of Rona’s hip, and grinned as a foot jolted against her thigh. Rona reached back and swatted lazily at her.

“Fine," she conceded with a wave of her hand, "I'll make the trees for you. Nice fat ones with branches you can tie the ends to. And bigger ones, for shade. A whole army of them. Oaks.”

“You’re getting mighty commanding there, for someone who isn’t royalty,” Val said with a hazy smile. “What if the trees revolt?”

“I’ll give them to Amon.” 

They dissolved into a fit of conspiratorial snickering, delirious with their own stupidity and the giddy exhaustion of near-sleep. Their monk’s predisposition for making nature his own personal sparring partner was matched only by his predisposition for setting things on fire. That Rona would retain him for a personal crusade against disobedient trees was too ridiculous - and too likely - not to giggle about. 

Eventually, though, their weariness got the better of them, and their laughter lapsed into a warm, glowing silence that Val felt like the last creeping rays of sunlight over the horizon. Something shifted beside her, and then Rona’s hand groped across her chest, finding her free hand and twining it with her own. Warmth bubbled up through Val’s innards again, pooling high in her belly. She clasped their fingers tighter.

“We ought to be finishing camp, you know,” she muttered, with effort. Rona grumbled into the fabric of her shirt.

“I finished making my camp,” she said petulantly, and buried her face closer. “Bed. Pillow.”

“Mm. Technically I made the bed.”

“Shh.”

Grinning, Val curled her arm tighter around Rona’s shoulders and allowed her last little touch of good sense to slip away. A rest wouldn’t kill them. There were still hours till sundown, even more till first watch. Amon could make a fire; Dot could cook. Val was thick-headed, but she had spent too long not dying in the company of her friends to think they needed her help in any great capacity. They could afford to let her sleep.

She had, after all, made a very good hammock.