#the warm fuzzies have never been fuzzier

[usedtobekrampus]

mini hermits!

[takami-takami]

cw: this is an age regression drabble. caregiver!keigo. keep all additions and tags strictly sfw.

Keigo spent a majority of his life protecting people from a distance. 

He would, of course, always follow that twitch in his feathertips when they told him someone needed safety or comfort nearby. The act of protecting is one that scratches that intrinsic, unquenchable itch baked deep into his feathers and the fibers of his bone marrow beneath; but protection never quite felt tangible to him.

He always thought saving people meant giving yourself until you're empty and then turning heel to take flight. It meant making efficient use of your time, answering every "thank you, Hawks!" with a wink and a gust of his wings to speed away and save the next.

It meant never slowing down or seeing the fruits of your labor.

As a hero, Keigo's actions never felt solid in his hands— so he simply decided he felt that way because he wasn't trying hard enough; that he needed to clock longer hours and more frequent, grueling shifts.

But as a man, protecting you felt so much different from all that.

Keeping you safe is a slow, methodical process. It's a neverending pet project built with loving purpose and steady hands, armed with rolled up sleeves over the bicep and fuzzy teddy bears as his deadly arsenal.

Keigo has always been finely attuned to your little quirks, mannerisms, and subtle displays; so when your eyes go just the slightest bit fuzzy, fingertips wringing a frenzy against your bedsheets while you mumble in the cutest, clipped speech, he knows exactly what to do.

He can coax the tension out of your shoulders with his words alone. 

"You feeling small, baby?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. Those golden eyes of his gently flick back and forth between yours when he sits, assessing your form curled in on itself against the headboard of your bed. 

And your shoulders droop instantly, nodding once. You gnaw at a chewed up cuticle. 

"Oh, baby, it's okay. S'okay, c'mere," Keigo whispers, arms open with grabby hands for you to crawl and nestle into his warmth. "Shhh, it's alright, little birdie. You can be small tonight. That okay? Wanna be small for me?" 

The thick of his warm palm cradles the back of your skull and you nod like he just offered you a lifeline. The barrel of his chest rises and falls with even breaths, sinking you further as you smush your cheek into the side of his neck with your eyes shut.

He smells nice. You sink even deeper.

Keigo sits cross legged on the bed and leans just the slightest bit back when you sink into him. Like this, he reminds you of an aged, sturdy tree; firm and unyielding with the slightest give, but always consistent and firmly rooted. 

Safe. Warm and safe. 

Always safe.

"Mm," you hum, feeling a bit fuzzier now. 

"Yeah?" Keigo answers. He pulls back to get a good look at you, and you see him smiling ear to ear as if that little sound you just gave was a whole speech. "Get comfy, cause I'm gonna spoil you tonight."

And spoil you he does. 

The next thing you know, Keigo has you sitting cross legged in front of him on the bed, ready to make a few last big decisions.

"Okay!" He chirps, placing two open palms in front of you for you to look at. "We're gonna pick, okay?" His rich voice guides you along gently, smoothly. "Just two, I prommy." 

You nod fervently at the reassurance, nearly straining your poor little neck with the motion. 

You have to think— which is scary— but it's only two times. You can do that. 

"Perfect, dove," Keigo praises as if he just read your mind.

The first question is easy. 

"Blanket fort," he says, clenching his left fist closed and open for emphasis. "Or bed?" He closes and opens the right.

If you were a smidge more lucid, you'd feel a twinge of remorse for how hard you slam down on his left palm.

"Sorry, 'Kei," you droop.

"Awww," Keigo coos genuinely. "You think you hurt me… That's so cute, dove! Yeah, you're a strong one, aint'cha?"

And just like that, you're smiling proud once  more. Keigo's heart soars at a job well done.

"One more and you're finished, little bird," he says seriously, like he's presenting you with a quest; and you nod your head with a furrowed brow to accept the challenge, a hero ready to conquer.

"Movie," he says, clenching one palm. "Or storytime?" He clenches the other.

Maybe you weren't quite as ready as you thought.

Tears begin to pinprick at the corners of your eyes. You fight back little hitched sniffles and sobs as you stand in the face of the mountain before you, trying to be brave.

"I… U-Uhm," you hiccup and stutter at the idea of thinking any more than you have to. 

Keigo considers stepping in. His feathers ruffle from the base to the edges of his wingspan, spine stiffening at the sight of you in distress. The itch begins to burn once more and—

You slowly place both palms face down in his, lip wobbling when you look at him. 

"Both?" He asks and your heart swells with gratitude that he picked up on your meaning— of course he would, you beam. Keigo's so smart.

You nod once.

"Both it is, sweetheart!" 

All other decisions from that point onward are made by Keigo himself.

Keigo decides to stand, hushing your blubbers with a kiss to your crown and a teddy placed in your hands to keep you company while he sets the scene.

Keigo decides on the color theme for tonight's blanket fort (baby blue), putting to good use his avian instincts of nest building when he selects the finest comforters and pillows to fluff and stack.

Keigo decides to hand you your fuzziest jammies and softest blankies while his feathers zip off to fetch your favorite mug carrying something hot for you to sip.

Keigo decides on the movie— something animated and lighthearted, a familiar favorite of yours. He suppresses a smile that twitches at the corners, thinking about how excited you're gonna get once you see. You'll squeak "that's my favorite!" like you don't say that every time, and he'll reply once again, "no way, mine too!" 

Keigo decides he selfishly gets more out of this than you do; but at the same time, unbeknownst to him, you decide the exact same thing.

[wooahaes]

just out of reach

pairing: non-idol!ghost!joshua x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort. kinda angst bc reader's also in love with a ghost.

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: reader has a rough day. love that is likely never to be requited.

daisy's notes: google how do i kiss a ghost

“I’m home.” 

You heard nothing as you called out the words upon arriving home. No partner to warmly greet you and steal a kiss before asking about how your day went, or saying that they ordered dinner tonight. No sound of something pawing its way toward you, barking or meowing for attention at long last. No roommate, either, to ask if you’d bought the thing they asked you to since your way home from work took you right by the grocery store you frequented most. Sometimes, you were glad to live alone. You had less to deal with, although you did have to deal with all of your chores entirely on your own. Other times, it left you the way you felt tonight: hollow and mostly alone. No one to bother you and maybe hug you when you opened up about your rough day, but no one who could give you that warm embrace that you craved in your bones. 

So you decided you’d make a mug of hot chocolate the way one of your friends used to. Ever since you moved to the city a few months ago, life was quieter than it had been before. You’d yet to make friends both in and outside of work, yet to have someone you could open up to… But you made it work. You opened up the cabinets, pulling down a box of instant hot chocolate packets when you noticed the lights beginning to dim and flicker.

You took a break, holding it for a moment, eyes squeezing shut. Right. That annoyance. You slowly breathed out, speaking aloud as you reached for one of your favorite mugs, “Stop.”

The lights returned to normal. You moved to the fridge, opening it up to see if you still had leftover whipped cream, maybe milk, too. Barely a second later, the door was pushed into you, bouncing off. 

You shoved it away. “Quit it.” The mug you left on the counter was pulled away. “I fucking mean it—”

Then you felt a cold breath against the back of your neck. You slammed the fridge shut and turned around. “Go away!” 

All of a sudden, he materialized before you. Joshua. The last man who owned this apartment. You didn’t like recounting the gruesome accident that led to his death, but you were ultimately grateful that you knew them now. The landlord had told you that he merely ‘left one night’ and that he ended up having the apartment repainted due to the state it was left in. Rent was cheaper, though, and you needed a place to stay… So that meant you had to live with this roommate you never asked for. He stared at you with wide eyes, and stepped back, watching as you began to go through the routine of making a half-decent mug of hot chocolate. He’d realized you definitely weren’t playing with him the way you usually did, the grumpy one to his playful nature.

“Sorry,” his voice was soft, and it sent a chill down your spine. Ghosts had this weird edge to this voice, distant and cold. You’d grown used to it, but that initial chill never seemed to leave you considering how… alive Joshua felt most days.

You shrugged it off. Despite snapping at him, you knew that he couldn’t have known how badly today treated you. He told you that life was fuzzier. That sometimes he couldn’t see you clearly, just as you couldn’t always see him. Seeing a picture of him helped, in a weird way: like you were able to recognize Joshua, so he stopped feeling so fuzzy around the edges when you perceived him. But you? You weren’t sure if you would ever stop being hard to see. 

Despite him not existing in a physical form, the wood creaked underneath his feet. He stepped into the space next to you as you stood in the kitchen, drinking your hot chocolate. He peered around you, trying to focus a little further on your features, as if that would tell him what he wanted to know. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “Too much.”

He raised a hand, hesitating for a moment before he reached forward. His touch was cold, but you could feel his fingers brush against your cheek, and it soothed you. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

If you shut your eyes, it felt like he was there just a little more. Like he wasn’t dead. Why had you grown so attached to him…? Neither of you knew why he was stuck there, but the two of you developed a strange sense of something. Not quite friendship anymore, although you would call Joshua a ‘friend’ if you had no other words to describe it. It was as though he knew you intimately, learning more about you over time. Part of it came from the way he used to watch you when you first moved in, the rest was everything you’d told him. He’d told you stories from his own life before the incident happened. People he knew were still alive now. You’d met a few of them, actually. You’d taken a letter you’d ‘found’ to Jeonghan with final words that Joshua had written out beside you, focusing hard enough on a pencil to be able to write it himself. You’d met Seungcheol, too, who showed you pictures of Joshua and Jeonghan when the three of them were in school together. He’d had you deliver something to his mother, too, and introduced yourself as a ‘friend’ despite the word never fitting quite correctly in your mouth.

Joshua was dead. “Friend” was all you’d ever be, and yet the way he looked at you felt… different. The way you felt toward him was different, too.

“Tell me about it,” he said gently. “I’m here.”

Right. If nothing else… Joshua would always be right here.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @staranghae @synthetickitsune @weird-bookworm

[thicctails]

I have an Easter treat for y'all! A sneak peek of Chapter 11 of De spatio inter astra :3

This is Miko's segment:

Miko was no longer Miko.

Entropy. That’s what the adults called her. They called her other things, too, like chaos-bringer and little warrior, but those weren’t designations.

Or, perhaps they were, for someone who wasn’t her.

The Sparkling thought about that, about strange designations and even stranger bots, and dipped her head back down to scoop up another mouthful of the delicious, filling metal that the loud Seeker had brought back for her, looking very proud of himself as he’d bestowed the gift upon the young one. She held the metal in her mouth and let the heat from her belly flow up her throat, chuffing happily as it bubbled and melted, sliding down into her tanks and leaving her feeling fuller than she could remember ever being.

Either way, she was Entropy now, though the name still tasted strange on her glossa and didn’t quite stick in her processor like Miko had. It wasn’t a bad designation by any means, and she liked it, really! But, Miko had been… her. It was what Jack, Raf and Cody had called her, it was what was whispered to her in her fuzzy dreams and even fuzzier memories, calling her to the brink of remembrance. It was what she called herself.

But she had no way of telling her new guardians that. They couldn’t understand her, not in the way her brothers could. They did not hear her language, and she could not will her glossa to form their complex words. They were locked in a state of passable communication, unable to truly speak but capable of getting across what they needed to.

Hadn’t… hadn’t she been able to before?

The Femme paused, denta only a hairsbreadth away from the next bite of her meal. She looked at her potential Sire and Carrier, watching as they spoke in soft, happy tones. Breakdown noticed her staring and gave her a warm smile, his red optics shining with adoration as he reached out and gently caressed the space between her wings

Miko- Entropy could have sworn that she’d been able to speak like them, had been able to make thoughts into words that everyone had been able to hear. She’d spoken to… someone. Someone much bigger than her, with kind, blue optics and gentle servos. Images of green plating shining in a beam of sunlight and a deep laugh that she could feel with her whole body wavered in her processor like mist, present enough that she could catch glimpses, but never tangible enough to grasp.

She frowned, appetite waning as frustration rippled through her frame. Pulling away from Breakdown’s touch, Entropy transformed out of her altmode, wincing as the action pulled at her healing injuries. The Sparkling rubbed at her face, growling softly.

“What’s the matter, sweetspark?” Knock Out questioned, giving the Femme his full attention.

Entropy shrugged, tail flicking with agitation. She hated not being able to remember her life before her imprisonment. Honestly, she would have preferred it if she’d forgotten it entirely, at least then she’d be ignorant to the fact that there had even been a before to forget.

The Predacon huffed and walked towards the edge of the counter she’d been eating on, chirping at the older Cybertronians as she pointed towards the door. If she wasn’t going to eat, Entropy would rather go and explore instead of sitting around and doing nothing. She’d been feeling so energized lately, beyond grateful that she could move without her frame aching, or having to fight just to lift her head, and she’d seen so little of the world.

“Oh, you want to go for a walk? Alright, my litte star, we’ll take a quick stroll up to the navigation deck, but I want you to finish your ore when we get back. You’re still so skinny…” Knock Out fussed, scooping Entropy up and depositing her into his subspace. Entropy poked her helm out, fins perking up in excitement as some of her previous anger melted away.

She loved the navigation deck. It could be a little overwhelming, as there were usually many bots present in the space, but the fact that she could see outside made it all worth it.

The sky had enchanted her the first time she’d seen it. It had been her third day in this new place, and Knock Out had been keeping a much closer optic on her after she’d wandered away to explore and had ended up finding herself within Starscream’s nest, drawn by the warmth of his chassis. Since she couldn’t be left unsupervised, the medic had taken Mi- Entropy with him as he went to speak with Soundwave, who was confirming the location of another Energon mine. The Decepticon TIC had expressed a desire to see their newest addition, since he’d only witnessed the Sparkling in the throws of panic and agony.

Entropy had been happy enough to go somewhere new, but that feeling had been totally eclipsed by sheer, unbridled awe as she saw the night sky with her own optics, separated only by the glass of the huge windows that lined the room. She had memories of the sight, but they were as faded and foggy as the ones she’d seen today, not allowing her to truly know what her optics had once beheld.

It had seemed infinite to Entropy, a vast, dark expanse that cradled a thousand bright, twinkling stars within itself. Though it seemed wholly black at first, when Knock Out, upon seeing her obvious interest, brought her closer she began to see hues of blue and purple woven into the inky void. The navigation room was bathed in silver that night, lit by the gentle light of an enormous moon that shone brighter than all the stars combined. It had reminded her of her clutchmate’s optics, the ivory glow bringing tears to her own.

Today, though, the cool night had been replaced by the vibrant day, the sky coloured with a gradient of blue, fluffy, white clouds occasionally rolling over the glass and leaving behind drops of water that streamed upwards and out of sight. The Femme cooed in delight as she watched the shimmering drops race each other, smiling when Breakdown lifted her up and placed her on his shoulders so that she could see better. A thick cloud suddenly washed over the glass, dark and moist with rain. The rain splattered against the glass, fat drops crashing down so hard it almost sounded like thunder.

…thunder? What was-

“Come on Bulkhead, it’s just a little rain!”

“Miko, it’s pouring out there! It’s not safe!”

Miko laughed and leapt into another puddle. Her and Bulkhead had been out on a simple patrol when the sky had decided that the dry, desert earth deserved some rain today. It was a rare sight in Nevada, and Miko herself had only seen it rain here once before, and it certainly hadn’t been coming down as hard as it was now. So, obviously, she had launched herself out of Bulkhead’s cab the first chance she had gotten. She could see herself reflected in the Autobot’s armour, skin glistening with rain and hair plastered to her face and neck, her clothes now sodden and dripping. Usually, the sensation of wet hair and clothes against her skin would bother her, but the rain was warm and her excitement easily overtook any discomfort.

“Pshh. What, you scared of thunder or something?” She’d teased, resting her hands on her hips as she arched a brow at her partner.

“…”

“What?! Seriously? Dude, you’re like, ginormous! Plus, thunder can’t hurt you, it’s just the sound lightning makes, or something like that. Raf explained it to me once, but I wasn’t paying that much attention.”

She’d been shocked by the silent admission. Bulkhead, her Bulkhead, scared of something loud? That couldn’t be right; the two of them had caused explosions that were far louder than any thunder she’d ever heard.

“I know, but… we didn’t have thunder on Cybertron. There was rain, but it was made of acid and could melt any bot unfortunate enough to get caught out in it. The first time I ever heard it was a few weeks after we landed on Earth. Heh, I thought the ‘cons had found us at first, and even Prime got spooked when it started to rain.”

The thought of Optimus freaking Prime being scared of a little water was almost as unbelievable as her big green guardian being frightened by thunder, but as she took in what Bulkhead said, Miko began to understand. She imagined herself in his place, lost on an alien world that looked nothing like her home, surrounded by sounds that reminded her of war and fearing that the planet she’d landed on was about to shower her in acid. It must have been terrifying.

“Really? Huh… Well, don’t worry Bulk, I’ll keep you safe from any nasty thunder!” She’d promised enthusiastically, walking up to Bulkhead and placing a comforting hand on his leg as a flash of lightning illuminated the horizon, a clap of thunder rolling out across the vast desert soon after. Miko found that she no longer found the rain as delightful as she once had. Perhaps Nevada’s sparse rainfall was a blessing to the ‘bots, its rarity making it so they seldom had to worrythat the liquid would suddenly scald and melt them.

“Thanks Miko. I know you always have my back.” Bulkhead replied, giving her a fond look. He scooped her up into his hand and transformed back into his alt mode, blasting the girl with warm air and heating up her seat so that she wouldn’t catch a cold. “Come on, let’s head on back before Ratchet has a fit and starts ranting about me gett’n rusty…”

Entropy stared hard at the rain and tried not to tremble, her processor whirling in confusion as she tried to understand the first truly clear memory of her life from before the dark place. She looked at her servo, watched as the dark metal shifted and moved as she curled her digits, their curved points scratching against her palm. She looked at it, and wondered, for the first time, why it was like that. She pressed her claws in slightly deeper, and something within her felt sick when the metal did not yield to the pressure.

Where had her skin gone?

Miko- (no, no!) Entropy looked down at her frame, touching the beginnings of what would be her armour. The others often praised her for it; saying that she’d be a formidable warrior with an impenetrable hide someday, that she’d be healthy and strong soon, and that her first colours would show themselves after her armour formed. She pressed on it, but it did not give beneath the pressure like it had before, back when her tanks had never been full and her wounds always bled.

But it had before even then, hadn’t it?

Entropy was sharp and unyielding, Miko was soft and squishy,

Miko had memories of blue and rain, Entropy knew only red and fire.

Both had bled, but what flowed from torn flesh and what dripped from gouged wires were two entirely different things.

Entropy was a Predacon.

Miko was… had been…

Entropy looked at the glass again, and saw a face she knew belonged to her, and yet it was so wholly alien that it made her tanks churn and her frame rattle with pure, primal terror.

She didn’t know this creature.

She knew her better than anyone ever could.

She was not this being.

She once had worn her skin, spoke with her voice, looked with her eyes, and bled her blood.

She was Entropy

She was Miko.

She was both and neither, whole yet separate. The face she saw was both hers and someone that had died screaming back in that dark, dark place, ripped apart and put back together by the same holy being that lay trapped within the jaws of a sacrilegious machine.

Entropy touched her cheek, and felt that it was wet. She glanced up, wondering for a moment if perhaps the glass had broken, but soon felt another warm tear run over her claw.

She missed the warm rain and the lightning and the thunder that rolled across a desert that she’d seen a thousand times in her dreams. She wanted it back. She wanted the life that had been taken from her back.

Entropy wanted to be Miko again.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Fic Rec Friday

Thank you for the tag @thisbuildinghasfeelings and @ladytessa74 ❤️

This week's theme is: rec a fanwork (fic, gifset, fanart, podfic - bonus points if you do multiple mediums) that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside (the 'feel good' fanwork). Tag @welcometololaland or #fic rec friday to be included in the round up.

There's so many in the warm fuzzy category - this is so hard. You're all such fluff machines.

Fics:

Just A Little Longer by @bonheur-cafe.

TK and Carlos cuddle on the couch on a rainy spring day. Just the image alone is enough to turn me into a sea sponge with eyes. It's so sweet.

these moments with you by @chaotictarlos /happygowriting on Ao3

A 4x09 coda in which TK and Carlos are supremely soft - just want to get into bed and cuddle. It's lovely.

Four Suits by @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

Honestly - I could have picked anything Jamie has ever written for the warm fuzzies - but Four Suits leapt into my head. TK and Carlos go suit shopping for the wedding together and it all gets a bit much for our sweet potato Carlos.

Gifs:

"1.03 -> 3.08" by @3416 . Not only is it a beautiful parallel, it makes me laugh every time I see it.

"Can I say yes now?" also by @3416 . Absolutrly beautiful grainy black and white gifs of the proposal face-squish. I love it SO much.

"Text me" by @aarondingle . Mr. Afterglow himself looking like a character drawn by Disney because he's madly in love with his soulmate TK Strand.

This duo set by @whattarush of TK sleeping on Carlos' arm because I'm only human and I've been staring at this for about half an hour fuzzier than I've ever been.

Art:

The 'Wanna race?" artwork @heartstringsduet made for When Soulmates Swim - which is my fic!!! 😭 It's beautiful and perfect, your honour!

Since The First Night I Took You Home by @a-kinkajou . It's outrageously beautiful and features a very special piece of jewellery.

ALL the 911LS cross stiches by @thisbuildinghasfeelings - but special shout out to "Sure, ma'am, but just so you know, I am a homosexual." I ove that this is a thing that exists! And I just think it's a genius idea to cross stich Lone Star!

Tagging @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @lemonlyman-dotcom @catanisspicy @taralaurel @largepeachicedtea @goodways @liminalmemories21 @reyesstrand @lightningboltreader @never-blooms @danieljradcliffe @noxsoulmate @firstprince-history-huh @bonheur-cafe @rosedavid @freneticfloetry @theghostofashton @chicgeekgirl89 @iboatedhere @chaotictarlos @wandering-night19

[theweirdestroller]

Mermaid Tears

Nightmare had long since gotten used to the water harshly crashing into him, as well as the oceans boiling as he swam through them. He was used to claws and teeth and other such sharp things penetrating through his flesh and bones. The weight of his trident was familiar, just as much as throwing it. The leviathan's world was little more than storming clouds and spewing volcanoes. He cared not about the disasters he and his twin caused. Why would he? All that mattered was the fighting. The ceaseless war that wouldn't stop until one side claimed victory... Or died.

The kraken couldn't be sure what had happened. His skull was in such pain, ichor painting the water so thickly that trying to see past it was impossible. Something was horribly, terribly wrong. Nightmare made an attempt to collect his thoughts, but everything was muddled and fuzzy and in so, so much pain. Somehow, he heard the voice of his twin through all the pain.

"𝐸𝓂𝒷𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹?" Not as much as he was hurting. "𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉?" And didn't that sound nice. What if they could just go back to being brothers, even just for a day. Nightmare stopped trying to listen to his brother and instead tried to removed the ichor in his sockets to no avail. Dream had said something else, Nightmare hadn't heard it properly. Should he respond?

"ɖ-ɖʀɛǟʍ? Iȶ hurts," He drew out the s longer than he should have. Did that matter?

"𝒩𝐼𝒢𝐻𝒯𝑀𝒜𝑅𝐸!" Oh, something was really wrong. Dream sounded terrified. Warm hands cupped Nightmare's face, his injury only feeling worse from the heat. "𝒮𝒽𝒽, 𝒾𝓉'�� 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎. 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎, 𝓈𝒽𝒽𝒽,"

"ɦurts," Nightmare managed to say through the pain, tears mixing with the cyan ichor. "ɦʊrts so bad" 

"𝐼𝓉'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎," Dream was hugging his so close. They hadn't been like this since... For a very long time... But the heat was making everything even fuzzier. His tears felt like lava.

"Dreaʍ?"

"𝒴𝑒𝒶𝒽?"

"I'm gonna քass out ռօա," And he did, leaving his frightened twin to try and stop the bleeding. Dream tried not to look at the ichor mixing with the water as he tied makeshift bandages over the wound.

-----

Blood. It was all Horror could smell. He couldn't see much anymore, however, even if he wanted to. But even with his now damaged eyelight, he could see the carnage. Blood and seafoam floated around, the scent taunting him for living. Bodies of the dead and dying were barely visible with his new injury. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. And now he was the only one alive. If he actually recovered from this. His head pounded. Some of the blood was from him, he had little doubt in that. But what could he do? He was stuck here with only those turning to sea foam. He could focus on the sights and scents, but what good would that do? He couldn't exactly escape it all either, the sea foam sticking to him whenever it got close.

So he cried. He cried for those who were alive only moments before, he cried for the pups who were barely starting to live, he cried for those who tried so valiantly to defend the shiver, he cried for the memories he had of them all, lost when his skull was crushed, he cried for those who he loved and cared for, never to be seen again. He cried so much he could have filled the ocean from his tears alone. For that was all he could do.

-----

In some colorful reef sat a quiet whitetip shark mer. Pilot fish flittered around him, the only family he had left. A few were exploring the reef, the rest were just swimming around Dust, like a fishy barrier between him and the rest of the ocean. It was nice. Dust got a moment of calm and quiet. And Papyrus was always watching him. A pilot fish swam up and bonked their heads together. Oh. Dust really missed having his brother around for real. These fish, they acted just like him but- Dust didn't know he had started crying until all the fish had huddled around him, trying to give comfort. Something so familiar, Dust yearned for his brother to be the one pressing soft kisses to his forehead, telling him that everything was going to be alright. But he was gone. And all Dust had left was a school of ghost fish who were painfully similar yet just that much different than his brother.

-----

Killer would never admit it, but sometimes, he got really lonely. He never had a shiver, but who needed one anyway? Sure, some company would be nice, but why go out of his way to look for someone? Made no sense to him. Took up too much time and effort. Besides, he could go anywhere he wanted! He had no one place to tie him down! One day, he could be in warm waters, searching for the freshest of tuna to catch, the next he could find a cooler, shallow beach to lounge around in with no one to bother him. It was a good life he was living. A life of adventure and thrills! Why would he need someone else to slow this all down? He didn't. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to share it all with, but Killer liked his life right now. He didn't need to change it because of some silly emotions. He could drift to his soul's content.

Happy trills sounded from somewhere near by. Killer went over to investigate. A few mers were darting around each other in the brighter water making the shallows of the area. A goldfish mer was curling around a larger great white mer and giving him affectionate kisses while a whitetip settled on the sand nearby, petting a small fish. Killer watched with, not quite envy, at the display. He wouldn't lie and say he didn't want to have that sort of love with someone, but he wasn't jealous of them.

The bull shark quickly made his way back to the cavern he was staying in. And there, all alone with no one, not some sweet goldfish or other shark, he cried. Not that he would ever admit it.

-----

"Hello?" Cross peaked his head out of the container. There wasn't anything. Well, fish and a small squid, but no other mers. Or any giant beasts with writhing tentacles capable of ripping the container's door open and snapping off his shock collar. "Anyone there?" No reply. Was this a test? Did Gaster set this all up? Cross carefully swam out of the container. What was the goal? Did he even have one or- Or was he really free? He swam further. No, how would he have even escaped? Sure, the container could have just fallen into the ocean, but Gaster was not a careless man. He wouldn't have let something as simple as a storm knock Cross overboard. Not when he had been working on him for years. Still...

Cross darted away from the container as fast as he could. He was free. Even if this was all just some test rigged by Gaster, he wasn't in some small aquarium anymore. This was open ocean. It had to be- It- it... Cross glanced at the container, getting smaller as he swam away. This was real, right? Cross settled on the sand covering the bottom of the ocean. It was soft on his fins, unlike the rocks that had been in the bottom of one of his old tanks. Seaweed floated, a massive cover for fish and other sea creatures. Bubbles floated from the occasional lobster or crab returning from the surface. Some were just dropped back in, how, Cross didn't know. Maybe landwalkers, maybe it rained crustaceans out here. In wasn't scientifically impossible. Was it? Frog rain was a thing. Gaster had talked about it once. And frogs weren't much bigger than some crabs.

The newly freed mer had laid in the sand for hours, watching the fish swim past, snapping up the occasional critter that strayed too close to the shark. It was... Nice. The open water, all the animals swimming around, the waves, the light, the water. And Cross would hopefully get to live in this forever. The very same seas that he was robbed of in his puphood, they were all his to explore now. Much too late, yes. But he was still here now. Tears pricked at his sockets, and for the first time, Cross allowed himself to cry. there was no doctor who would mock him for it out here. He could cry, he could swim, he could hunt. And no one could stop him anymore.

[awlumii]

while sitting with kazuha during his break one afternoon, you're struck by a memory. it's an extremely fuzzy one completely unrelated to the task you're completing, but it flashes before your eyes anyway.

you're sitting on the bleachers in your school's gym chatting with some friends about the test you have next period. was it a history class that you had after this? one of your friends moans and groans about it, lamenting the fact that he didn't study at all because he was kept up all night by your other friends.

"him and his stupid food combinations," you remember him saying. it was thoma, if memory serves you correctly. you remember how dramatic he was about the whole ordeal. "i swear, i think ayato secretly hates me."

ayaka had blushed beside you. she could never say much in defense of her brother. even though he never acted strange while she was around, she would always believe others when they said he was a menace. "i'm sorry about him," she apologized. "how about we go to your favorite restaurant after school? i'll make it up to you!"

things get fuzzier from here. you know thoma was ecstatic, but you don't remember what he said. you also don't remember what else was said after that, if anything. but once the gap ends, your memory clears once more, and you remember hearing something loud collide with something else. the impact made you and your friends flinch — it might not have been two objects, but rather an object with a person. after looking around the gym a little, you found the source.

on the side of the gym near the wall, there was a boy on his knees clutching his face. you could see him trembling from where you sat and, when you squinted, you could see droplets of blood hitting the wooden floor with a silent plip.

on instinct, you jumped to your feet and hurried over to the injured student and crouched by his side. you don't remember what exactly you said, but you remember taking note of his state of being. you noticed a basketball rolling away from the two of you. so he'd been hit by that, huh? from the look of it, the ball hit him really hard. there was so much blood – so, so much of it. despite wanting to be a doctor in the future, you almost lost your stomach at the sight of it.

your memory gets even fuzzier. the boy's eyes were screwed shut, you think. "can you open your eyes?" you think you asked him. "and can you breathe?"

for someone bleeding so heavily, you distinctly remember being a little shocked by his tranquility. he didn't even seem like he was in severe pain. he wasn't groaning, nor was he whimpering. he just sat there and cradled under his face in an attempt to keep the blood from staining the floor any further. when asked again if he could open his eyes, he did.

and you remember seeing scarlet.

your memory stops short. why can't you remember past that? it's actually infuriating that you can't remember more; you know for a fact that something happened in high school that solidified your resolve to become a doctor, and you think that that might have been it. but for such a pivotal moment in your life, you can't seem to remember any of it. why..?

"are you alright?" kazuha's voice registers then, taking you out of your thoughts. you look up from your laptop to see him already looking at you. "you look bothered by something. do you have a headache?"

you smile unconsciously. everything he does makes you smile. his worry for you warms your heart, even if there's nothing seriously wrong. plus, the fact that he's worried about your head makes you wonder if he started memorizing some symptoms of certain ailments due to your choice of profession.

you shake your head at him. "no, that's not it." you're half-lying. you do feel a pulsing at your temples, but it's not really painful. "i'm just... trying to remember something is all."

"oh? is it for classes? perhaps i can help." kazuha adjusts himself in his seat and rests his hand atop yours on the table. you spread your fingers a little and tangle them with his, sending a tingle up your arm. "what is it that you're trying to remember?"

"no, it's nothing like that..." you sigh and look at your intertwined fingers. "it's like, i'm trying to remember something that happened in high school, but it just won't come to me."

kazuha's fingers twitch. "something happened in high school?"

"yeah. some kid got hit by a basketball really hard. i know i helped him, and i know that helping him made me want to keep helping people, but i can't remember anything else. like, i don't know what he said or even what i said... i don't even remember what he looked like." at that, you raise your eyes to meet kazuha's. scarlet eyes seem so distant despite looking straight at you. actually, now that you're looking, you think he's looking past you. his mind seems to be elsewhere.

and if you were in his head, you'd know that it is. if you were in kazuha's head, you'd immediately be crushed by the immense guilt that he's harbored for years. that incident in high school was one that changed his — and yours — life forever.

insignificant as that incident may have been, your lives were never the same. as you said, you resolved to be a doctor while he fell in love with you. god, thinking about it now, he was so embarrassing in high school, pining for the one person who showed him genuine kindness after he got hurt. by that logic, he should've fallen in love with another unsuspecting soul ages ago, and yet instead, he fell for you. you, who noticed his unwillingness to show any sign of weakness and treated him accordingly; you didn't coddle him, but instead gave him gentle instruction, showing generosity where it was needed and letting him breathe when he could. you treated him like he was worth something to you, even if you didn't know his name.

looking back, you didn't ask for his name until much later in your high school years. by that point though, he'd been sent to the nurse's office countless times and encountered you even more since you were the nurse's aide. each and every time, you smiled at him like he was a friend — you even called him that once, and he'll never forget it.

"oh, hey," you said with your back turned to him, "i never caught your name. even though i've had your blood on my hands more times than i can count." you chuckled at yourself and turned back to him, your lips curved into a smile. "what's your name?"

kazuha felt breathless at the sight of your smile. his mouth formed the words to respond, but no sound came out. his mind was racing at the thought of officially being a friend to you instead of the boy you treated for injuries twice a month. "kazuha." he finally managed. "kaedehara kazuha. i'm sorry i didn't say so earlier."

your smile brightened and his brain turned to mush. "it's nice to officially meet you, kazuha."

...the joy of that day didn't last long.

when he took to the streets in his prototype spider-suit that evening after finishing his homework, his attention had been drawn to an explosion at a restaurant. when he approached the scene, he was mortified to learn that it was the restaurant that you'd said you were heading to with your friends earlier in the day; you even invited him, but he declined so he could do his vigilante work.

kazuha remembers the panic, the alarm, the horror he felt when he arrived. there were bodies strewn about, both criminal and civilian alike. paramedics and police were already on the scene, helping people, but there were still gunshots ringing out nearby. whoever caused it was still at large and not going down without a fight.

"...put them down!" yelled an officer beside him.

kazuha attached himself to the wall high above the scene to get a better look at what was going on. the criminal had taken a hostage; a teenager from the looks of it. the barrel of the gun was pressed firmly against their temple, and the criminal hollered demands in an attempt to walk free.

"if you let me walk away, i just might let them go," he'd growled. "you wouldn't want to take their future from them, would you, officers?"

kazuha had half a mind to jump in right then and there, but when he got a glimpse of the hostage's face, his world slowed to a stop.

it was you. you were scratched up and bruised, likely from the explosion, and you were sobbing. you looked torn between begging for your life and fighting, oddly stiff in your captor's arms. you looked so helpless, so afraid, knowing that your life could be snuffed out if this criminal's finger so much as spasmed.

it's then that kazuha's memory goes fuzzy, too.

obviously since you were here, everything ended fine. the criminal went to jail and the cops didn't make any efforts to arrest him as they often tried to do in the beginning. but how he managed to get you out of there, he doesn't remember.

all he remembers is that by the time the villain went down, so did you.

maybe something hit you that wasn't supposed to. when he checked you for any additional injuries, he felt a large bump and gash on your head. in fact, when he pats your head as spider-man, from time to time, he can feel the scar that was left in its place. you seem fine now, but... listening to you now, hearing that there's parts of your memory that just won't clear up... it's his fault—

"kazuha?"

this time, it's your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts. kazuha blinks twice and refocuses on you. he remembers what you said. how you don't remember what that kid from high school looked like — what he looked like. "was he important to you?" he asks tentatively. "that boy."

you purse your lips in thought. "i don't think so." you answer honestly. "that was the only time i saw him, i think." your fingers drift to the back of your head — the same spot where the scar is.

it sounds like you just don't remember him altogether. that would explain why you never bring up your time spent in the nurse together. but kazuha doesn't blame you. he can't. he only blames himself for not being fast enough — for being an amateur when you needed him the most. all he can do now is vow to never allow a situation like that to happen again. he can't lose you again — rather, he can't let you lose him again.

not again.

[hermannsthumb]

followup to your fic about hermann's doe eyes: hermann is just as whipped over newt's eyes but newt has never noticed

Anonymous asked: (eyes anon from before) like every time newt takes his glasses off hermann has. A Moment. but newt doesn't realize bc he can't see shit without his glasses

Anonymous asked: hey i don't know if you still take prompts, but i have this really specific mental image of hermann cleaning newt's glasses (i know thats not really like. much to work with, but if anyone can make something of it it's u lol. love your writing!)

(follow-up, but not sequel, to this fic. kind of short because I wanted to try writing shorter ficlets again, like the first ones I ever did!)

-------

“What on earth did you do to your glasses?" Hermann says.

Newt looks up from his work bench and squints blearily at Hermann. Well, technically, he doesn't do either of those things, though he definitely gives it a good effort; the lenses of his glasses are obscured by something weird and goopy and definitely extraterrestrial, and he can't make out much of Hermann through them. Or like, much of anything. He's honestly kind of surprised it's taken him this long to realize it—he's written out almost a whole page of notes in the last ten minutes alone. That's some pretty impressive muscle memory shit if you ask him. "Uhhh," he says, tugging his glasses off and trying, in vain, to wipe them clean on his work shirt. The goop almost seems to get thicker, and his shirt sticks to it so bad he actually manages to untuck it from his pants when he pulls his glasses away. "I'm...not sure?"

His cleaning job was decent enough that he can at least kinda see Hermann now, but he's only gone from one with the goop to just sort of a weird, fuzzy human silhouette by an even fuzzier silhouette of his chalkboard. Newt doesn't need his glasses to tell he's being scowled at, though. "Were you sticking kaiju parts in the microwave and making a mess of everything again?" Hermann snaps. "So help me, Newton—last time we had to throw out the whole damn thing. I just want to be able to reheat my coffee in peace, I don't understand—"

"No, I wasn't, actually," Newt says. "Well, not this time." He decides to try wiping his glasses on his jeans instead, and it's a slight improvement only in that his jeans don't get stuck to them. "I stabbed a gland or something earlier and it kinda...exploded a little. Um. I guess it didn't notice it got in my face?"

"You didn't notice?" Hermann says.

"Look, I've been kinda busy today," Newt says. He pushes his glasses back on his nose and blinks a few times. Then he pulls them back off. "Whoa, dude, these are totally busted. This sucks. And I still can't find my spare pair. You're gonna have to be my eyes or whatever around the base for a few days to make sure I don't fall down a staircase or something 'cause—"

"Newton," Hermann sighs.

Newt hears his cane clacking primly across the lab, and then feels his glasses being swiped out of his hand. "You've just got to give it a bit more effort, is all," Hermann says, suddenly much closer. Much closer. Closer than he and Newt ever get to each other. Hermann exhales twice, probably on the dirty lenses, and then there's a rustling and a squeak of cloth on glass. Newt feels Hermann's breath across his face, warm, and smelling vaguely like old coffee and stale cigarette smoke. It's kinda gross, but for some reason it makes Newt feel all weird and warm under his collar, and he's struck with the sudden bizarre desire for a breath mint. Or, at the very least, that he remembered to brush his teeth that morning. "By Jove, Newton, Hermann says, "What a mess." He gives another exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. "Alright—give this a test, won’t you?”

The glasses are slipped back onto his face. Hermann is barely an inch away from him, it turns out, the tips of their noses almost touching, and he's staring at Newt with an intensity that's genuinely kind of unnerving—the sort of thing Newt would see him usually reserve only for his chalkboards. Newt startles and takes a step back. "Oh," he says, and then, quickly, "Oh, sick. Um. Thanks. Good job, Hermann."

Hermann is still staring at him.

"Thanks," Newt repeats. He reaches out and pats the side of Hermann's arm, because he's not sure what else to do. This close to Hermann he can see a lot of things he's never noticed about him before: the little patch of dry skin on his cheek, how stupidly long his eyelashes are, the teeny little indentations on his lower lip from where he's bit it in thought. It all makes him feel even weirder, and so does Hermann's gaze, locked directly on his own, but he's not sure why. "You did it perfectly," he adds.

The touch seems to snap Hermann out of whatever trance-mood-whatever thing he's in, and he coughs as he turns away from Newt suddenly. "Mm," he says, and then mumbles out something Newt can't make out, before saying, loudly. "Er—get back to work, now, won't you? You're distracting me. I can't—I can't concentrate."

"Distracting you? Whatever, dude."

His face feels hot. Hermann's such a weirdo sometimes.

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

ooh if ur still taking prompts for whenever... alex & reggie friendship and "quiet"? (idk i can't think of a good word slkdghfj) i love your writing!!!! 💕

hi guess what this got out of hand. also here’s bobby pain you didn’t ask for (thank you so much i literally adore u). warnings for some descriptions of depression/dissociation sorta. this piece is now also available on ao3. thanks so much to @sweetheartreggie for the beta!

--

It's storming, which always sets Reggie off. He guesses it shouldn't matter so much now, because he's a ghost, and can poof around if he doesn't want to walk in the rain, and even walking in the rain doesn't make him wet, since the raindrops fall right through him. Plus, he can't get struck by lightning, he assumes.

Sometimes Reggie feels quiet. It's hard to explain it any way other than that; he's looked for a word his whole life and never found one, this sensation of curling up inside his own head and falling silent. He's usually so energetic, so talkative, so intense (too much of all of these things for a lot of people, he's found, he just can't help it) — so it's strange when he has these moments where his head feels fuzzy, his mouth gets jumbled, and rather than to chat his friends to (another) death, or bounce off the walls, he just wants to sit.

It hasn't happened so much since they died, and when it does happen, he often poofs out and finds Ray, pottering somewhere around the house or working on his computer. Reggie will curl up nearby, letting Ray's presence weigh on him, keep him grounded.

(It doesn't work as well as it used to. Ray's not the same as — anyway).

He just hasn't wanted the boys to have to worry about it. Luke loves him to pieces, Reggie knows that, but Luke's not great at feelings to begin with, and he's even worse when there's nothing proactive he can do to help, so Reggie knows that just sitting there would drive Luke crazy.

And Alex loves Reggie too, and Reggie knows that as well, but he and Alex never crossed these lines when they were alive. Never pushed past bickering and reassuring, bouncing between the two things in a rhythm only Alex could master, on one hand never hurting Reggie's feelings but on the other never pushing him for too much disclosure.

Maybe he should ask Alex. He just doesn't want him to worry.

So it's raining. Reggie's sitting on Julie's window seat, gazing out her window, knees pulled up to his chest and chin resting on his arms. Julie's at school and Ray's at work and Reggie didn't know where else to go to feel quiet. As many times as she's given them the boundaries talk, Julie softly told him once that if he ever needs to, of course, he can come to her room. It feels safe in here, the same way Julie feels safe, warm, and nothing like Reggie's own childhood room.

There's a knock on the door. Reggie lifts his head and frowns to himself. Julie and Carlos should both still be at school, and Ray's at work. Tia Victoria wouldn't come up here if she dropped in, because she knows they're all out.

"Yeah?" he calls, hesitant.

"Hey. Uh. Can I come in?"

Reggie'd know Alex's hesitant, comforting voice anywhere.

"Sure," he calls back, wincing a little at how despondent his own voice sounds.

Alex physically opens the door to come in, and closes it behind him because he's the weirdest ghost in the whole entire world. Then he puts his hands in his pockets and looks up at Reggie through his fringe, and oh, no. Alex's eyes are so gentle, analytical, concerned.

Reggie's seen that look in them before but rarely aimed at him. Almost always at Luke, when the fights with his parents were bad; sometimes at Julie, in the time since they've met her; occasionally, a long time ago, Alex would sometimes look that way at — anyway.

"I'm fine?" Reggie offers, automatically, and it comes out meek and small. When Alex's brows pull together into a confused frown, Reggie realises that Alex hadn't even asked yet, and shuts his mouth.

"...Okay," says Alex. It's deeply sceptical. The familiarity makes Reggie's shoulders relax, a little, less out of his depth than he was with Alex's gentle look before. Alex says, in the stage whisper that's been an in-joke between them for as long as Reggie can remember, "What are you doing up here, anyway?"

"Julie said I could." Reggie's voice is not a stage whisper, it's a real whisper. He doesn't mean it to be like that. He also knows that what he said offers no real explanation, but Alex goes ah and nods as if it does.

Crossing the room, Alex slumps onto the other side of the window seat, one leg hanging off, toes still on the ground. Glances out the window. "It's pouring out there, huh."

Reggie nods. Puts his chin back on his arms and hopes that's enough of an answer. He feels fuzzier again, muted like someone is twisting his volume dial down and it's out of his control, or like he's a TV channel that's only picking up snow. He can feel Alex looking at him, but he doesn't return it, doesn't want eye contact at that moment.

"I know when we were alive," Alex begins slowly, and Reggie thinks here we go, "that storms made you feel weird. And, uh, that Bobby would—" Reggie closes his eyes against the hurt in his chest at Bobby's name. He doesn't know if it's grief, or anger, or something else entirely. Alex must notice, because his sentence drops off, and instead he just murmurs, "Oh, Reg."

Reggie swallows, tries to find his voice, tries to say how much he misses Bobby even though he should be furious, and how Bobby always used to sit with him no matter how quiet he got, understanding and stoic and solid, just his being there like a weighted blanket on Reggie's mind, soothing and secure. He tries to say how much storms scare him because they always meant being stuck in the house no matter what was going on downstairs, meant he couldn't just jump out his window and go wandering around the neighbourhood or down by the beach when his parents screaming got too loud. But when he goes looking for his voice, it isn't there.

A hand settles, very softly, on his elbow. When Reggie blinks, Alex isn't looking right at him, but instead at Reggie's arm. Rubs his hand from Reggie's elbow up to his shoulder, and back down. Alex's hand is big and he feels so warm even through Reggie's flannel. "I know I'm not Bobby," Alex says. "I don't have the magic touch for this like he did. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be here for you, when things are bad, okay?"

Reggie wants to croak they're not that bad, but finds himself choked up, so he doesn't. It just feels so nice, not to be alone. To have company.

"I can't do anything to help, really, but can I sit with you?" Alex asks, and meets Reggie's gaze this time, his eyes clear blue and hopeful. "Til the storm passes?"

Reggie has known Alex long enough to read everything in his expression — recognition, worry, love. It's not just that Alex is company, he realises. It's not just that Alex being here makes Reggie not alone. It's that it's Alex, goofy graceful snarky Alex, who Reggie has known forever and would trust with anything. Who only offers himself up when he means it.

So Reggie nods. Shuffles over so he can rest his head on Alex's chest. Alex lets out a breath and puts an arm around his shoulders, fingertips tracing a pattern on Reggie's arm.

They watch the rain fall outside the window.

--

jatp taglist: @queenmolina @nickalicious @bi-reginald @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @multifandom-queer @cinnamonstickrayofsunlight

[siriusly-addicted-to-writing]

I’m in love with him

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!female!reader 

Summary: Draco and [Y/N] are best friends, but one fight, and one certain boy, threatens their friendship.

Warning(s): cussing, underage drinking, drunk reader (honestly kind of bad but I had to get something out here, unedited to add to the bad of it, but um, hope you like it!)

Masterlist

X-X-X-X-X-X

This is for Dee’s [ @obsessedwithrandomthings ] writing challenge! I’m sorry it’s so late! I’ve been very busy and uninspired but I finally found inspiration and time! I hope you like it!

Prompt: “Yeah, well - fuck you too!” in bold!

X-X-X-X-X-X

“You know Draco? I can’t believe you’ve decided to change,” [Y/N] says. She glares at the platinum blond boy next to her. Her best, and only, friend Draco Malfoy. 

“I didn’t change, you prat. You’re making it all up,” he says rolling his eyes at the girl next to him.

[Y/N] and Draco have been friends for as long as they can remember. ‘Before you started walking,’ Draco’s mom would always say. They grew up together, having sleepovers all the time, and it wasn’t weird. They were like siblings.

But siblings don’t fall in love with each other.

Because Draco has fallen in love with [Y/N]. Over and over and over again. And [Y/N] makes it obvious that she doesn’t reciprocate those feelings. The little hints Draco has given her has never had the response he’s wanted.

For instance, one time she told her she looked beautiful and she said she wasn’t. Draco had to scoff at her for that one. She was more than beautiful. She was gorgeous.

But Draco could see the way she swooned for his arch enemy. Harry freaking Potter. Her eyes aways lit up when she saw him in the hallway. Or when he would just bluntly mumble something when passing the two of them.

She’s always had a soft spot for the boy. Even once the rivalry started, she always told Draco to knock it off. ‘It’s not civil to pick fights with people, Draco.’ he remembered her saying. He shook his head and regained his focus on the girl next to him.

“You did change Draco. I barely know who you are anymore! You’ve been distancing yourself from me!” 

“Oh, that.” Draco puts his head in his hands. How could he be so stupid?

Of course! He didn’t even realize it before. He was distancing himself from her. Slowly, but he was. All out of selfishness. He was trying to get rid of his feelings for her. He didn’t want to love her if she didn’t love him back.

“See! You know you’re doing it! Draco, I swear if you keeping doing this, I’ll- I’ll sit with Harry!” she said crossing her arms. 

“You wouldn’t,” Draco says, glaring at her. He knows perfectly well she will. She can make friends easy enough, but being friends with Draco has restricted her.

“I certainly will!” she says, standing up and starting to walk away.

“Fuck you,” Draco mumbles, mostly to himself. He sees out of the corner of his eyes that [Y/N] tensed. 

She heard him. Shit, she heard him.

“Yea, well- fuck you too!” she says walking away. Draco lets his head fall to the table. 

Yeah, he officially blew it.

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

[Y/N] walks out of the Slytherin common room, and feeling really strong. Maybe taking a break from Draco would be good for her. A way to expand her friend group. Luckily for her, being a Slytherin didn’t have a negative effect on her. 

In fact, Hermione once asked her to help her with potions. [Y/N] politely declined, saying that she was studying with Draco that evening. Hermione understood but said she’d aways be up for studying with her.

[Y/N] was one of the smartest in her year. Second only to Hermione. Thinking she could start there, she went straight to the library.

Hermione was there. Sitting in the back of the room with her nose stuck in a book. [Y/N] decides to just go and sit down across from her, with no plan. So, she took a deep breath and sat down across from her. 

Hermione peers over her book to see a shyly smiling [Y/N]. Hermione relaxes her expression and lowers her book.

“[Y/N]! So lovely to see you!” Hermione smiles sweetly at [Y/N]. 

“I hope it’s not too late to take you up on that studying date?” she asks timidly. Hermione’s smile brightens as she vigorously nods her head.

“Not too late at all!” she exclaims, bursting right into the charms lesson they took that day.

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

After a short four weeks, [Y/N] and the golden trio were the closest of friends. Harry and Ron were skeptical at first, but ultimately accepted the smart and kind girl from Slytherin.

[Y/N] still say Draco, but all she did was smile at him and continue on her day. She didn’t know she was hurting the boy, because he smiled back and would start talking to whoever he was closest to. 

She thought he was happy without her, and she was happy without him. Right?

Draco wasn't happy, he was dying inside as he watched her laugh at something Weasley would say, exchange notes with Hermione, and share a smile with Harry. Draco has never seen her look at someone like that. She looked at him the way he wished she looked at him. 

But what set Draco off was that Harry started looking at her the way he looked at [Y/N]. The way she looked at him. Draco felt his heart shatter when he realized they loved each other.

Draco started looking dead, to mirror the feeling inside him. [Y/N] noticed, but barely. She would purse her lips and remind herself that Draco didn't want to talk to her. She would move on with Harry as he dragged her down he hallway.

So when Ron and Harry won a quidditch game, [Y/N] was invited to the party in the Gryffindor common room without hesitation. 

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

“I’m so glad you came [Y/N]!” Harry says as he drags her in the common room. ‘She looks gorgeous tonight,’ Harry thought, ‘not that she doesn’t always.’ She was wearing pair of ripped jeans that brought out her curves, and a tighter black tank top that exposed some of her midriff. 

“Haha, thanks for inviting me Harry,” she says, walking into the party. Ron was in the middle of a bunch of people explaining their victory against Ravenclaw. [Y/N] smiles at the boy and continues to walk around. 

No matter who many times she's been in the Gryffindor common room, it always amazes her how warm and welcoming it is in there. Now filled with people, it makes it seem like such a fun and cozy place. Polar opposite to the Slytherin common room.

[Y/N] continues to look around the room and sees Hermione in the corner with a book in her hand. [Y/N] scoffs and shakes her head. She’ll be taking that book from her shortly.

[Y/N]’s eyes continue to wander around the room. She was looking for someone. When she finally spun in a 360, her eyes landed on a smiling Harry’s. But spotting Harry didn’t satisfy the thought in her head.

‘Where is he?’

Where was who? Because Harry was standing right in front of her. His lips moving, but without sound, gesturing at her to come closer. Tempting her to kiss his lips. 

But if she did, would she ruin her friendship with the boy? Because, yes, it is true. She has feelings for the boy, but does he reciprocate them? 

These were the thoughts that went through her head when Dean Thomas came walking by, offering shots of fire-whiskey to her. She looks at him, then at the glasses, and she takes two.

She walks back over to Harry and offers him a glass. He politely accepts and takes it from her.

“So, I didn’t have the chance to tell you earlier, but congrats on the big win,” she says.

“Thank you,” Harry says, smiling at her.

“Cheers to you, Harry. For being an amazing quidditch player and a spectacular friend,” she says raising her glass.

“And cheers to you, [Y/N]. For being you and always making me smile. You’re the best,” Harry says raising his glass.

“I know,” she says, a smirk playing on her lips. Harry rolls his eyes and clinks his glass against [Y/N]’s. She slowly presses the glass to her lips, unsure if she should drink it. She’s never had fire-whiskey, but this might as well be the first time.

The fire-whiskey burns her throat as it goes down, but the rush feels amazing. But her thoughts were kind of getting fuzzy, but that didn’t stop her from flagging Dean back over, asking for another shot. She needed that rush again.

Just as she was putting the glass to her lips, Harry stops her by gently placing his hands on hers. 

“Wait, you’ll get sick if you have too much,” he says, but she downs it anyway. 

Her thoughts go a little bit fuzzier, but she doesn’t mind it. After all, there was a lot of things on her mind. 

“Wow, Harry! This stuff is amazing,” she says. Her glass slips from her hands. Harry somehow was able to grab it before the glass hit the ground. 

“Okay, no more of that.” Harry grabs her hand before she could signal Dean for another.

“Harry! Let’s dance!” [Y/N] says, as she notices the music that has been playing. Harry places the empty glass on the nearest table and follows [Y/N] out in the crowd. She starts dancing and Harry realizes what an amazing girl she is.

After a few songs later, Harry led [Y/N] off the dance floor. He could tell the alcohol started effecting her. She was pretty tipsy and her face was flush, so Harry decided to take her back to her common room.

“Where are you taking me Harry? I want to dance!” she says, trying to tug herself free of Harry’s grip.

“[Y/N], we are going for a walk,” Harry says, pulling you out the portrait hole. She hums as Harry’s hand slides down her wrist to intertwine with hers. 

“Harry?” she says, turning to face him. She notices the change in scenery around them. They are in the courtyard, and the starts are brightly shining above them.

Harry, removes his hand from hers and brushes her face lightly. She leans into his touch.

‘This is finally happening!’ she thinks.

She leans forward and Harry’s lips touch hers. Her eyes close, but she doesn’t see Harry’s face, no. She see’s Draco’s.

She freezes. Everything is clear now, even with her fogginess to her brain. It’s as if she saw the whole future.

It wasn’t Harry she loved, no. She loved Draco.

“Harry, I don’t mean to be rude, but could you excuse me?” she says, as there pull away from each other. 

“I know where you’re going to go, and please, let me walk you there.” Harry says, not sounding hurt at all that she practically shot him down.

“You’re not upset?” she asks, genuinely confused.

“No, not at all actually. I realized, it’s not you I want either.” He smiles at her. “I mean that in the nicest way possible.” 

Without responding, [Y/N] laughs really hard, and she can’t stop. Harry realizes she’s too drunk to do anything right now. They will have to talk about this later.

“Okay, let’s get you back,” he says, slinging her arm around him.

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

Draco stares at the fire crackling in the fireplace. He knows [Y/N] went to the party in the Gryffindor tower, and who knew what she was doing now. 

So Draco sits there, in his dead state, thinking of all the ways he can apologize to her. 

But, they were good enough. There wasn’t anything he could say to make things right. 

He screwed up, and that was that. 

And she was happy without him. He couldn’t take that happiness away from her. He couldn’t be that selfish. She deserves to be happy. 

“Harry, I want to go back and dance!” he heard her voice. But, it wasn’t her voice. She sounded off. 

Draco was on his feet immediately. The door swung open and there stood Harry with [Y/N]. Draco could tell with one glance that she was drunk.

“What the hell happened to her?” Draco says, running up to the pair of them.

“Oh Draco! Is that you?” she says, falling into Draco’s arms. Draco catches her with ease, and glares daggers at Harry. 

“She had a few shots of fire-whiskey, and well, I thought I’d bring her here. She was asking for you the whole way.” Harry awkwardly rubs his neck.

Draco looks down at her, and she is smiling up at him. She wanted, wants, him. Not Harry. Him.

“Thank you for bringing her here, Potter,” Draco says, nodding at Harry. Harry nods back then retracts out the door. He had a certain Weasley to find.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Draco says, scooping her up like a child. She puts her face into his chest.

“You’re warm,” she says, and Draco can feel her smile through his shirt. Draco couldn’t help but smile back. He walks up to her room, and somehow made it without being blocked with the enchantments. 

“Stay, won’t you?” she whispers into his chest. Draco sets her on her bed, and she scoots over. “Come on, Draco. I’m not that drunk. That was all an act,” she pauses, “Well, most of it. I’ve got a buzz going on, and I’ll probably have a headache in the morning.”

Draco stares at her bewildered. She was acting? Boy, did he love her.

“As much as I’d like to, you have roommates.” He smirks at her, and she rolls her eyes, patting the bed. Draco sighs and sits down next to her.

“[Y/N], I want to apologize. I-”

“I’ll have to stop you there, Darco. No Draco, sorry. See, I’m not completely sober, so please. Save the apology till later, but I forgive you.” She smiles at Draco and he smiles back.

“Alcohol goes straight to your head doesn’t it?” Draco asks, and she shakes her head, laughing slightly.

“Yeah, but I’m also good at sobering up really fast. I used to drink wine all the time,” she says, smirking at Draco. “I’d also like to apologize, but I’ll save that till when my mind isn’t fuzzy.”

“Okay, [Y/N],” Draco says, rolling his eyes. She rolls onto her side to face Draco. Draco rolls over to look at her. She is beautiful, and she will be more beautiful everyday.

“Hey, Draco?” she says, her eyes starting to close.

“Hmm?” he hums, brushing her hair from her face.

“I love you,” she says. Those three words made Draco’s heart explode. His [Y/N] loves him.

“I love you too,” he whispers, kissing her on the forehead. 

That night, they both feel asleep with a smile playing on their lips and love in their hearts. Tomorrow, and everyday after that, they will go to bed with each other on their minds.

=========

Hope you all enjoyed! 

[original-fuzzywool]

Martina is about the nicest wife anyone can imagine. I am told by friends and family all of the time what a sweetie she is and how lucky I am. We all have our surface personalities and for my wife Martina hers is sweet and nice. She is that way 99% of the time. That 1% of the time, typically happens when she has a paddle or cane in her hand. I am the only one to gets to “experience” the 1% Martina.

We are a typically kinky couple playing with bondage and spanking and dominating each other. We play games to see who will be “The Slave” the next weekend and half the time, we are both trying to lose.  For the last six months or so, things have been shifting to Martina being more the dominant. I’d say the transition happened about a year ago when we started playing with Chastity.

I had been following some Chastity Blogs and had sort of been addicted to a few that pumped out daily Chastity Memes. One day I showed her some of them on my laptop. While we went through them, she shivered with excitement on some of them. It was like a whole new world with new ideas and concepts had opened up. She asked me to save the “good ones”. Every week or two, she would snuggle up next to me on the couch if I had my laptop and say, “Lets look at what is new in the chastity world”. We would go through the new meme’s I had collected and some of her favorite older ones. This activity almost always ended the same way. She would talk about keeping me locked up. She would say she was going to lock me up for a month and then decide to add another month. Or she would tell me that Chastity was going to be my new normal and she would be the queen of my world. Then things would boil over and a few minutes later we would be undressed and making love.

We did actually get a chastity belt (or 5 while we experimented with fit, longevity and security) a year ago. It is definitely a part of our lives; I am belted 2-3 times each month. Typically for 1-3 days while she teases me or we have something to do and she wants me focused. Of course I’m belted the 4 days a month that her body tells her, “Belt Him, he is useless”.  

While Martina talks a great chastity game and loves the ideas behind the meme’s she is a disappointing keyholder for long term. And I am fine with that. She always asks if I am ok or if it hurts. I can tell after she asks she realizes she made a mistake, she really wants to be a harsh keyholder. We have had a few good runs but the longest I was ever in chastity was after a required 4 days because of her monthly cycle, she was going away for the weekend. She really wanted me belted but had to make sure about 5 times that it was ok with me to wait for her return. I was belted for 6 days and nights and after a year of chastity games that is the longest I have ever been belted.

Our fetish area’s extend beyond bondage. I have a MAJOR wool and sweater fetish. I beg her to wear thick and fuzzy sweaters and buy them for her all the time. Last Spring it was too warm for a big sweater and we were going to a BBQ on Sunday. It was overcast and I begged her to wear a sweater. She finally agreed when I offered to put the chastity belt on for a week if she would do it. I was only locked for 5 days, but that opened the door for similar deals.  

One time I wanted to buy myself a very expensive thickly knitted turtleneck sweater and I had to ask because it was so expensive. She told me that when the package arrived, I had to go in the chastity belt and stay a day for every 10 dollars the sweater cost. Then I told her the sweater was $270 dollars so that would be 27 days. She asked if I still wanted the sweater. I hesitated for a whole day. Then I told her that I want the sweater and we ordered it. She was so excited when it arrived. I have to admit getting a new sweater is a very sexual experience for me and having it in a chastity belt was very frustrating. It was fun, and it was probably very fun for me because after 6 days she got the keys and said “Get that big sweater on and get the belt off and come to mama”.   The following days she was very disappointed in herself for not going the 27 days. That was sort of typical for the first year of Chastity. She was a fun key holder but not like the women on the meme’s that got her so excited.

Lately we have been doing the memes even more and she has shown interest in the anal training memes. She asked if it was true that a man can cum from anal. We looked it up and it’s true. She wanted to know if a man could cum from anal while in chastity and we looked it up and it looks true too. She thought that was very hot. She asked me about my experience had I ever….. I had to disappoint her that I had never tried anal and only a few times worn a butt plug for a short time. Based on this interest, once she had me locked up for a day and used a dildo on my behind and while it felt weird and maybe a little bit good, I didn’t cum nor did I feel like I ever would. Still it became a fantasy for meme time.

She had several meme fantasies that always got her going probably number 1 was “I’m adding an extra month because you tried to get me to unlock you” At some point I realized that this was exciting to her because I never really asked her to let me out. I certainly never begged. She almost always ran to get the keys the instant I suggested we make love. Her number 2 favorite was the “Hey welcome to vacation, by the way, I left your keys at home” She loved that one. The 3rd one was probably a tie between “This is your new lifestyle get used to it” and “I am going to train you to cum from anal so I never have to unlock you”.

It was last Spring and I have some time off in June, So I booked a 4 day weekend in late May at a resort. I selected the resort for two reasons. 1) They have a killer golf course and I could play golf all day while Martina hangs at the pool or spa 2) The room had two bedrooms both with big cast iron beds. We can sleep in one room and set the other one up as a bondage room. Maybe she will even leave me tied up all night like she did once at another resort.

I emailed her the reservation and expected to get MEGA points for being a great husband. Instead I got “Golf really? What if I keep you in chastity all weekend. Can you still play golf? Do you still want to go there?”   I had to reply that I have played golf in chastity at least a dozen times and while I don’t love it, I still enjoy the game and if she wants me to play golf in chastity, I am happy to oblige. And of course, I took the chance in my reply to tell her the evenings in May are cool enough for sweaters and I offered to pack some for her. (knowing I would pack much thicker fuzzier sweaters than she likes)

We made the booking and for the next six weeks before the trip she would look at me and say “Gee I hope I don’t forget to pack the chastity keys for our trip” and then she would shudder with excitement. I would counter with you won’t be able to reach the keys because I’m keeping you chained to the extra bedroom the entire weekend, gagged and diapers so you know you won’t be getting unchained. She would shudder at that too.

Saturday Night the week before the trip I was teasing her about keeping her in bondage for 4 days. She sat up straight and said, “I’ve got a serious issue with this trip. I’m worried that the first night we are going to have a furious night in bed and just drain all of our energy for sex and then I’m going to be in the condo and at the pool for 3 days board out of my mind while YOU are on a golf vacation.” I assured her that would not happen. She thought “Monday Morning put on your chastity belt and give me the keys, I want you good and horny by Thursday Night when we check in and I want to decide when it comes off.”  I replied that keyholders always decide when it comes off (Even though we both knew this wasn’t really true) and I thought the idea was really effing hot. Finished by saying “So you are ordering me into chastity, I like it”

Thursday was stressful while we packed for 4 days of fun. We had two large bags I packed that were very heavy and all they had in them was chains, locks handcuffs, collars, dildoes, gags, paddles a whip, a cane six thick fuzzy sweaters of both male and female variety. We had a little fight but that was normal and the car ride was enjoyable. We talked about sex once, but I changed the subject because my “interest” was causing pain due to the chastity belt confinement. She figured it out and we had normal conversation.  

We arrived at 8pm just before sunset. We decide to quickly get everything from the car to the top floor condo and make drinks to watch the sunset on the deck. We didn’t unpack but tossed bags into rooms and the golf clubs in the hallway. She was on the deck as I walked up with the drinks. She looked so happy. We watched the sunset and decided to make more drinks. This time she said “I’ll make the drinks and a snack. You go unpack the playroom, the deck will cool off so you better come back with some sweaters. I want you in that thick black cable turtleneck and I’d like you to pick for me the sweater that you would most like to make love to me in while I wear it. Ya know, old fashioned sweater sex.

She went to make the drinks and I went to unpack, I knew I had time because she was cooking a snack. So, I unpacked and set up the corners of the bed with chains and laid out wrist and ankle cuffs along with locks and keys neatly organized on the bed. I had brought a thick fuzzy pink turtleneck for her and I selected that for her to wear. When I came out she was just finishing the drinks and I was walking slightly bent over with short steps. All the excitement and my chastity belt where really starting to hurt me. I was too excited.

She was just finishing the drinks and saw the pink sweater. “oh you really want to fuck me tonight don’t you” I handed her the sweater with a wince. She noticed, “Trouble down under?” I shrugged and said, “Someone locked me in a chastity belt and I can’t even get a hard on when I see my beautiful wife”. She giggled and we went outside.

I sat down, it really wasn’t cold enough for these sweaters, I thought. She didn’t sit down instead something inside her snapped. She was jumping up and down, she was giggling and started to say out loud, “I did it, I did it!” and it got louder until she leaned over the balcony and yelled to the world “I DID IT” and someone on a deck below yelled back “Congratulations”. That embarrassed her and she shut up and sat down. Red faced and looking so “sweater sexy” she looked at me and said “I did it, I am so proud of myself, this is a wonderful feeling, I didn’t think I could do it, But this feels great, I am so happy”   I asked if she quit her job or something. She looked deep at me and said “I forgot your chastity keys at home” then she made quotes with her fingers and said “Forgot” and laughed and laughed. “I really did it. Now we are going to experience that Chastity vacation together and I did it!”

She saw me wince again. All dressed up for sweater sex and no place to go…. I knew I was now going to be belted until at least Tuesday Night when we got home and that would be a new record of 8 days. For reasons that are not logical, this caused my member to be uncontrolled in it’s desire to achieve full status, I was getting 100% excited and I could not stop it. Some part of me loved this.

The next day playing Golf in Chastity was tough. Partly because I didn’t remember how tough chastity golf was and partly because Marina had waited till our 3rd drink then chained me spread eagle to the play bed, with just my sweater and chastity belt on. She then pulled out a stack of adult diapers we only used for extreme long bondage sessions and put on one me. She kissed me and said she wanted to sleep in the king bed alone tonight and assured me I would be unchained in time for my tee time. When you sleep chained spread eagle, you wake up sore. My golf game suffered.

Friday was warm and when I returned, I begged her to wear a sweater to dinner. She declined but said that maybe she would wear one for breakfast because cooler air was moving in. I started to beg, with my stuff locked up, sweater play was my only play. She stopped me and said: “I’ve already experienced the absolute joy of “forgetting” your keys” do you really want me to experience the joy of adding weeks to your chastity sentence on only our first full day of vacation?  .... Do Ya?” I put my head down submissively, lowered my eyes and shook my head no.  She put her hand on my head and said, “Oh I like how this works”

Saturday my tee time was not till 10am, we planned to eat breakfast together at 8am. I woke up sore. I was once again chained and diapered all night. It was 7:50 and she was ready for breakfast and unchaining my locks on the play bed. She said, “sorry I didn’t get you up earlier but you looked so peaceful sleeping all tied up, we both have to hurry to get ready.” I got up and went into the bathroom to change. I came out at 8AM and I started to get my golf stuff in the room together. I heard her from the hallway. “I’m going down to get a table and a mimosa. Don’t be too long.”

I was probably taking too long, it had probably been 10 minutes. That is when my phone buzzed and it was her. She used her selfie stick to send me a pic from the restaurant lobby. It was the photo from this post with a note, “We are being seated now, every minute you are late is equal to one day.” OMG I never saw her in that sweater!! She bought a new sweater! I dropped my golf stuff and flew out the door, ran down the stairs and got to her just as she was being seated.

She asked me where my sweater was? She indicated that when it’s summer and she is all sweatered up for me, she expects me to be sweatered too. She would explain this later tonight in case I don’t understand. I knew then I was in for a paddling tonight as she “explained” it to me.

I just kept gushing at the table about how sexy she looked in that sweater and the sweater and shorts were incredible. It took a long time to get us seated because she had asked for the table in the corner of the room away from everyone.

At a break in the conversation, I was thinking I should be wonderful and get her mind off of tonight’s spanking. I looked at her and I told her how horny I was being locked up and knowing I was going to be locked up all vacation, Then I told her how proud I was that she had taken the step to leave the keys at home and how fun it was to watch her revel in the achievement. I had no idea how difficult it had been for her.

She replied by telling me how she really struggles with being the Key holder. Part of her wants to be a ruthless keyholder and keep me in a sexual state all the time, but the bigger part of her does not want to be mean to me or make me uncomfortable so she lets me out. She said every time she locks me up she tells herself it will be a week to a month and almost every time she feels bad and lets me out in 2-3 days. She frowned and said, “It makes me feel like a failure”.  She frowned a little then said “And I know you take advantage of me in this regard.” She paused and nodded, I knew she was right. “No more”

“What changed or inspired you” I asked.

“Mona” she said and I tried not to cringe. Mona is her friend who doesn’t really like me and is aggressive and kind of mean. But they are best friends and have been since before Martina and I met. “Did you know that Mona and Dave have done chastity for 5 years?” I had no idea that my wife even talks about this sort of stuff with other people. “Mona and I went through the chastity meme’s and she told me that most of them are simply male fantasy and very few women would ever say that. She told me her chastity system and says she would never have life any other way. She keeps a journal. When she gets a hankering to lock up Dave, or Dave is a dumbass, she writes down five things: 1) Why she feels that way 2) How long she wants him locked up 3) What she wants sexually for herself out of the locking up 4) What she wants Dave to experience sexually (if anything) during the lock up and 5) What she wants done and accomplished non-sexually before he gets unlocked.

She writes those five things down and she says that if a woman is going to be true to themselves and enjoy the power of having the key , while prioritizing to ignore male suffering, then she MUST make sure the list is complete before the belting is ended AND she NEVER tells Dave how long she is planning on having him belted. She will share things with him about the goals, especially things like… one time……ha (she laughed) Do you remember when Dave got it in his head that he was going to paint the whole house in a week all by himself? So do you remember that? Yeah. We thought Dave was crazy and he was, but it was not actually his idea. After being belted for 2 weeks, Mona told him he gets out AFTER the whole house is painted and not a minute before. She said he never worked so hard on anything ever. He never complained he just worked for his goal.

Last week I wrote down my five things. I read them three times each day to cement them in my head and make sure that is what I wanted. Now I am your Key Holder and I am confident with my plan and feel great about it. How do you like it so far?   I replied that I really wanted to have sex with her but being belted on vacation with the keys at home was a really hot surprise.

She smiled big. You are so wonderful I have another surprise for you. I’m going to tell you some of the things I wrote down. (I thought, AWESOME) I wrote down that as my gift for you sexually I am going to spend the entire day and night with you and I’m going to wear this new thick fuzzy sweater all day long. I will be your smok’n hot, drink buying, golf partner, but I won’t play because golf is stupid. (she always said that), I will wear it after golf for whatever you want to do and I will wear it out to dinner when you take me to a nice restaurant tonight to celebrate. I will wear it when I serve you a nightcap back at the room.

Wow.

“And in return for this wonderful gift, you will be giving me, one month in chastity that starts today.”

“Holy Cow, I like the sweater part a lot”, I said. I was in a big panic. My world chastity record was 6 days and this was going to be 36 days, at least.

I got myself together and said, “How about I stay in Chastity till next weekend and every day next week we turn down the A/C and I pick a sweater for you to wear every night?”

She laughed and said, “It’s so cute you are trying to negotiate, remind me again who has the keys?”

“OK, OK, Chastity for 10 days from now, no sweaters and I’ll clean the kitchen every night, that will be 16 days in chastity and more than double my world record” and with that I gave her my most manipulative, please please, I love you so much face I could muster.

“You are staying belted until one month from now, I don’t see how that could possibly change, unless I decide to add time beyond a month. I do like the clean the kitchen every night. I’m sure you will do that anyway, because you might fear that I will add days for not doing so. Now, I expect you to clean the kitchen every night you are belted or that day does not count.   I’m tired of this conversation. I am going to let you give me one more lame attempt to put conditions or propose changes to MY plan. Just one more time you can ever mention it. You have until the end of breakfast. Then any further requests for release or suggestions about my keyholding and your one month will automatically become TWO MONTHS. I suggest you at least be entertaining with your suggestion.”

The waiter arrived with breakfast, perfectly timed, so I would shut my mouth.

We didn’t say much during breakfast. At some point, she reached over and touched my hand. “You are pretty sexy when you are thinking so hard”

I knew I had to go back to the meme’s and the things that she seemed to really like. Suddenly I couldn’t remember any of it. As breakfast was almost done, I had it. “I’m ready, for my last lame attempt to get out of this chastity belt before one month”

“Good, I can’t wait, then we have a tee time”. She said it like it was just a formality and this was a pointless exercise in my using my mouth to say nothing important.

“I will submit to you for any action whatsoever for the next 10 days. I challenge you to train me to cum in my chastity belt from anal.” Her mouth dropped open, her butt wiggled a little bit and I knew that the juices had started to flow. I continued: “You have ten days to train me to cum from anal, not just drip a little, but to make me an anal whore. If you fail, on day #11 I am release from the chastity belt. But IF you are successful, and I hope you are, Then I want to be an anal whore and you have to make me cum from anal at least two times every week, further, if I am horny and want to be fucked, you cannot refuse me, unless I have already cum twice in the last 7 days.

She leaned back in the chair and one hand went under the table then suddenly rocketed back to the top of the table. I knew I did something good, because she was going to rub herself and had forgotten we are in a restaurant. After a minute if thoughtful gazing at me.

“I will accept your challenge, if you still want to do it, because I will not agree unless, after I have trained you to be an excellent anal whore, the rule will be, before you can cum, you must first be tied up, gagged and spanked heartily. Most times probably on the spanking bench but I want to also be creative. After your spanking I might just make you cum on the bench still tied up or untie you for some other adventure in cummies.

I didn’t like that additional terms, I don’t enjoy being spanked However, the chance to get out in 10 days or at least get some relief if she is successful, sounded pretty good. We agreed. I typed it all out onto an email and sent it to her. She replied confirmation that was the agreement. Apparently, putting an agreement in writing was also a Mona thing, so that there was no confusion later about agreements.

The check arrived and it was time to go get my golf clubs. Now my only concern was looking at her in the sweater as much as possible and remembering this day for the rest of my life. She is so sexy. And she will probably be very hot in the sweater too.

It was late morning and still cool, but her sweater was defiantly too much sweater for a normal person. The sweater got her noticed and two women approached her separately to tell her what a wonderful sweater she had on and ask if she made it herself. I caught the golf cart attendant checking her out seriously, he wasn’t looking at her rear or legs, he was definitely a sweater person too.

I started with a six pack of beer and a six pack of water and lots of ice from the snack shack. I figured it’s a great day to drink beer and stay hydrated.  My golf game was ok. I had a birdie and I had some trouble. We were on the back nine where there were no houses or roads. I had just blasted my ball way down the fairway with a driver but at the last moment, my ball hit a little hill and bounced forcefully into the woods. I drove the cart up to the woods parked in the shade for Martina who was now a little red faced with heat, but being a super sexy woman and also drinking most of the beer.

The group behind us was four guys that started with a crapload of beer and we had not seen them for 5 holes, I bet we were 30 minutes ahead of them. And the group in front of us was fast so it was like we had the course to ourselves.

I decided that I could find my ball and probably play it. I grabbed a few clubs and walked into the woods to find my ball. After a minute or two I found it and hit a killer shot between the trees right up the fairway and almost to the green. I was happy to still have a chance for par.

As I came out of the woods Martina looked like she was passed out. She was leaning all the way back in the seat with her head back and her eyes closed. As I approached, I said, “What are you doing?” and at that moment I could hear her breathing. She was breathing hard. Her hand was down in her crotch. As I got to the cart, I just stopped. She was rubbing the outside of her shorts and masterbating. She looked like she had been doing this a while. I just stood there looking at her. My Chastity belt signaled that it was still in place and my heart sunk when I remembered the keys where at home and then sunk again when I remembered the belt might be my closest friend for the next month.

Sheepishly I said “Whatcha do’in?”

She gasped and didn’t move her head or open her eyes. Breathlessly she said, “I started thinking……..What if after a month……. You really like this ……….. (a longer pause for a few hard strokes) What if I really like this ….. or maybe we both really like this”  With those words she gasped hard as if saying those words out loud was the trigger to her orgasm. Then her eyes shot wide open. She raised her head and looked at me …… “This could be a lifestylllllllllllllll Ahhhhh God please!!” Then as if speaking those words was a trigger to heaven, she came like a freight train for over a minute. I just stood there dumbfounded while I watched her cum more than one time.

As she settled down, I was still standing there looking at her. She opened her eyes again and turned her head toward me. She bit her lip in the most sexy way and took her hand off of her now noticeably wet crotch. She sat up a little and said, “I have 10-Days to make you the man of my dreams”

 #chastity#locktober chastity chastitybelt #belt #sweater #sweater fetish #bondage #bondage story  #keyholder #key holder #sweater fetish #sweater # wool fetish r#orgasm denial

[strawberry-skies-xx]

white

W H U M P   A D V E N T   2 0 2 0

day 1-3 | hypothermia/out in the cold | @whump-advent-calendar​

summary: Hiccup swears under his breath, then shivers and grimaces. Note to self: never decide to use the cover of snow for an attack, he thinks bitterly, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide, any direction to go that wouldn’t be putting himself right in the Hunters’ path. He isn’t even sure what direction they’re coming from.

word count: 2792

tags: hiccup/astrid, hypothermia, hurt hiccup, hurt/comfort, happy ending

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next entry >>

Stupid. This is the worst plan Hiccup had ever come up with, and that’s in a long history of “worst” plans that usually ended up working out very well.

This one, however, had gone wrong, and it had gone very wrong, and it didn’t seem to be looking better.

It didn’t seem to be looking anything, really, because Hiccup can’t see. The snow falls thickly, obscuring everything from view. Underneath his feet - his freezing feet, his metal leg is ice cold and the only thing stopping it from transferring it to his actual leg is the wood between his leg and the prosthetic, and even that is cold - the snow rises to just below knee height, hindering his movements. He has no fur coat, nothing but his leather armor and his one boot, both of which the cold is sinking quickly into.

The only good thing about this is that if he can’t see, the Hunters can’t either, and that buys him some time.

If the cold doesn’t kill me first, he thinks morbidly, shivering with his arms wrapped around himself.

Toothless was somewhere; Hiccup had lost him when they’d both gone down, crashing into a thick copse of trees and getting separated when they landed. He’d searched for several minutes, following the sound of Toothless’s roars, but the snow was far too thick to see in and he’d realized he was nowhere near his dragon. So now, he is walking simply to find somewhere to get warm - he’s no use to Toothless dead.

The trees had ended behind him, and all Hiccup can see is endless white - white snow, gray-white sky, white falling snow, white snow-covered hills in the distance, white snow-covered trees in front of the hills. He’s getting rather sick of the color, and is imagining red and orange flames, violet plasma blasts, anything warm that he can think of. It’s really not helping very much.

He can feel himself slowing, mind getting fuzzy and legs dragging slower and slower through the snow, and he knows this is the beginning of hypothermia. He has no idea how long he’s been out here, the world being suspended in an eternal state of dull gray sunlight and falling snow, but apparently it’s long enough for the cold to start really affecting him. He has to keep going, though - if he stops now, there’s no doubt that he’ll die, but he might find a cave he can shelter in.

And then he hears a stick snap, and the voices come from off to his right.

“I saw the Haddock boy go down with that dragon of his.”

“We can barely see out here. He could’ve flown off already and we’d be freezing our asses off for nothing.”

“Viggo would give us a reward if we captured him, though. He’s said so himself.”

There’s a distant grumble, and then a reluctant, “Fine. We’ll keep searching.”

Hiccup swears under his breath, then shivers and grimaces. Note to self: never decide to use the cover of snow for an attack, he thinks bitterly, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide, any direction to go that wouldn’t be putting himself right in the Hunters’ path. He isn’t even sure what direction they’re coming from.

It’s all white, endless gods-damned white. Hiccup groans in frustration. “Think, Hiccup, think,” he mutters under his breath, but his thoughts are fuzzy and it’s hard to make his mouth move. He’s already forgetting the words that the Hunters said, that they’re even after him - he swears again. His hypothermia is worse than he thought, he thinks briefly, with effort, before that thought disappears and he shivers.

He picks a direction and runs as fast as he can in the thick snow. He’s helped only by the fact that one of his legs is metal - if both feet were freezing and affected by hypothermia like one is, he’s sure he would’ve been even slower. As it is, he feels like he isn’t running at all, and it’s far too much effort to keep the thought of run in his mind long enough to keep going. He’s lucky he doesn’t pick the direction the Hunters are in.

The voices echo behind him, getting fainter. Hiccup keeps running, dragging his feet through the heavy snow, forcing himself to remember the reason he’s doing this, that he has to.

The minutes drag on; his mind gets fuzzier. Run.

He forgets why he’s running, barely moves fast enough to be considered a proper walk, but he has to run.

An indeterminable amount of time passes like this, Hiccup’s mind and body slowing until he feels like he’s about to collapse and the final thought of run finally slips away from him. He’s surrounded by white, now, as he keeps moving for no reason at all, and he’s so, so cold. His whole body is ice, though he’s stopped shivering and has his arms still wrapped around himself, though it’s useless at this point.

He wonders why he doesn’t just stop and collapse, why he keeps going. It seems like a good idea, to just sink into the cold and the darkness threatening to overtake him. He’d be warmer in the darkness, he thinks, wouldn’t have to keep going through his overwhelming exhaustion.

He almost does - feels himself slow until he almost stops, feels his legs almost give out - until he sees something moving in the white, something dark. Whatever part of his mind is still coherent forces him to keep going, walking towards the black shape until he breaks through the snow and stumbles into a cave.

He falls, using too much effort to walk through the snow and not slowing his momentum fast enough when the snow abruptly ends. The stone is cold against his skin - but he can’t feel it, anyway, his entire body is numb. Something in him is satisfied at the fact that he found the cave, though he can’t remember why, and he relaxes right on the ground.

The darkness is welcoming, even in the cave. Hiccup feels a little warmer, sheltered from the snow, and he’s so tired. He just goes limp where he lays, a few feet in the cave, and lets exhaustion overtake him, unconsciousness rising quickly to drag him down.

Toothless whines as he and Astrid walk through the storm, tail flicking. He looks up at Astrid when Stormfly stops, losing Hiccup’s scent in the deep snow, and gives a quiet, worried whimper.

Astrid frowns, shivering in her fur coat and putting a hand on Toothless’s scales. “We’ll find him, Toothless,” she says, reassuring him as well as herself. They’ve been searching for hours, the Riders following her and Toothless and keeping warm by the heat of their dragons - and now, even the dragons are getting cold.

Toothless whines and sniffs at the snow, pawing at it and then looking up into the dense snowfall. All the tracks Hiccup might have made have been covered by the snow, and they don’t even know if he was captured by Hunters before he made it to a cave - or before he… well. She’s not going to think about that.

Stormfly chirps and makes her own low whining noise, feet shifting in the snow as she sniffs at it and comes up with nothing. Astrid wants to cry, her hope slowly dying as they keep searching and Stormfly loses the faint scent of Hiccup’s trail. It’s been hours, she thinks despairingly. She doesn’t know how long he could’ve survived on his own - which means he’s either captured by Hunters or- or-

No. Hiccup isn’t- that. He’s the most stubborn person she knows, he’s not gone. He’s not gone.

Her hands curl into fists and she feels spiteful anger rise in her. She starts walking, forcefully moving through the snow. Toothless follows reluctantly behind her, giving a curious whine.

“Uh, Astrid? Where are you going? Stormfly lost the scent,” Tuffnut says confusedly from behind her.

Astrid glares at the snow and keeps going. “We’re obviously going in the right direction. We need to find Hiccup, so I’m going to keep searching. You can stay behind if you want,” she replies - a little too harsh, but she’s worried and she lashes out when she’s worried. Especially when there’s the possibility that Hiccup is- is dying. Not already- not that yet, but dying. He’s not gone. She would’ve felt it.

After a moment, she hears the dragons huff and the other Riders follow behind her, fanning out a little to search in every direction. They’re reluctant to go far, for fear of losing each other like they lost Hiccup, but they at least look all around them.

It seems like forever that they’re searching when Stormfly perks up, chirping and running lightly on the snow. Toothless follows a bit slower, and Astrid struggles to keep up with them. “Guys! Stormfly found something!” she calls back to the other Riders.

In a few minutes, Astrid stumbles onto stone when the snow abruptly ends and she’s covered by the roof of a cave. Toothless whines and nudges at something in the dark, circling around it. Stormfly opens her mouth and holds a low flame, dimly illuminating the cave.

Orange light plays over Hiccup’s unconscious form right by Astrid’s feet, and she gasps when she sees him. A thin layer of snow covers his feet and legs from when the wind changed direction, and his lips are a worrying shade of blue. She crouches down and brushes off the snow from his legs - his prosthetic foot is ice cold, and his armor is cold as well. Even his skin is cold, as she takes his hand and squeezes it.

Blood rushes into his hand when she does, coloring the pale skin a light red. Toothless whimpers and nuzzles underneath his hand, pressing his body up against him and curling around. Hiccup doesn’t respond; Astrid shoves down the panic and presses her fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse.

It’s slow, far too slow for it to be normal, but eventually she hears a thud-thud beneath her fingers and she almost sobs in relief. He’s alive, he’s alive, she thinks desperately to herself to calm the panic.

Toothless nudges his nose under Hiccup’s body and Astrid nods, standing up. “You’re right, Toothless,” she says. She unclips Toothless’s saddle to get better heat from his scales and helps him drape Hiccup over his back, laying him on his back down Toothless’s body. She leads him further into the cave so Toothless can lay down carefully, keeping Hiccup on him.

She turns to the other Riders. “Does anyone have a light?”

Snotlout holds his lantern out and she takes it, setting it down in the middle of the area she’s designated. “Alright. Hookfang and Barf and Belch,” she turns to the dragons, who give answering noises, realizing how bad the situation is, “can you put your wings up to block the wind?”

Hookfang growls and rumbles, stepping back a little and onto his hind legs, spreading his wings to cover the entire length of the cave. Barf and Belch look at each other, then follow Hookfang’s lead, moving in front of him and raising their wings a bit lower to cover the open bottom edges of Hookfang’s wingspan over the cave.

Astrid smiles at them in thanks and looks around at their little area. It’s a small cave in the first place, and she doesn’t want to have to heat up too big of an area.

She walks over to Hiccup, picking up his hands and raising them. “Stormfly?”

Stormfly chirps and walks over, opening her mouth and holding another low flame. She puts herself near Hiccup’s hands, enough to feel the heat, and Astrid rubs his skin a little as she holds them, feeling warmth slowly return.

The other Riders have sat down against the far wall of the cave. Astrid turns away from Stormfly, letting go of Hiccup’s hands. Stormfly starts moving her mouth up and down Hiccup’s body, close enough for him to feel the heat, like a fire, but far enough it won’t burn him.

“Fishlegs, can you stand guard with Meatlug and tell us if anyone is coming? We shouldn’t have to be here long, not with Stormfly and Toothless warming Hiccup up, but we can’t leave and fly in the cold with him like this.”

Fishlegs nods, glancing over at Hiccup. There’s a dark, determined look in his eyes when he walks away, Barf and Belch folding their wing in to allow him to pass. Astrid turns to Snotlout and the twins when she’s finished, then glances at Hiccup.

Suddenly, there’s nothing to do. She can’t do anything else to help Hiccup, and the cave is as heated up as it can be with one lantern and two dragons blocking the wind and wayward drifting snow. It makes her feel a little lost, a little helpless, and she paces with the feeling. She hates feeling helpless, even if she knows she did everything she could to help Hiccup by the glances she gives up at Toothless and Stormfly every few minutes.

It’s a long, torturous hour that they wait, Astrid growing more restless and Snotlout and the twins’ bored antics only agitating her further. Even their antics have an edge of desperation to them, an edge of too-much-distraction that comes when the thoughts of something worse is beating at the edges, threatening to take over. The dragons shift restlessly too, Stormfly taking a break from holding a flame to guard the cave while Hookfang moves his head slowly up and down above Hiccup’s body, fire held in his mouth. Toothless whimpers concernedly, head twisting back to look at Hiccup.

Finally, they hear him stir. Toothless’s head snaps back instantly, and Hookfang leans back, still holding a flame in his mouth. Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins all go silent, looking up.

“Hiccup?” Snotlout asks tentatively, the first real sign he’s shown that he’s as scared for Hiccup as Astrid is.

There’s a cough, then a pained groan, and Hiccup’s head lifts. Toothless warbles and whines, trying to nudge at Hiccup without knocking him off his back and failing.

Hookfang steps back, letting Astrid rush over to Hiccup as he tries rolling onto his side and help him down without falling. He lands unsteadily on his feet, and Astrid helps hold him up as he leans against her.

“Hiccup, how are you feeling?” she asks when he’s quiet, simply staring at the ground.

“Not…” he stops, and she waits. He holds up one hand, slowly flexing his still-cold fingers, and tries again. “Not… terrible,” he gets out, as if it was difficult to say.

She nods. “Okay, do you think you can fly Toothless? I’m sorry, but we really need to get out of here. We’re still in Hunter territory.”

She hates doing this, but he’ll be able to warm up for longer at the Edge, and there will be no threat of the Hunters finding them. The sooner they fly back, the better Hiccup will be in the long run.

He nods slowly, again after a long pause. “Yeah,” he says slowly, voice slightly slurred. She frowns in concern, but walks him over to the wall where he sits down and turns back to start strapping Toothless’s saddle back on.

She finishes a few minutes later, helping Hiccup back onto Toothless. He can barely sit up, and she frowns deeper. “Hiccup, what if I ride with you? That’ll keep you warmer. Stormfly can fly on her own.”

Hiccup’s brow furrows for a moment and then he nods, his eyes drifting shut. Astrid climbs behind him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him back against her chest. He leans against her, almost limp in her arms, and Toothless stands up, looking back with a concerned whimper.

“He’ll be fine, Toothless,” Astrid says, and smiles when Hiccup’s hand twitches, rubbing back and forth on Toothless’s scales.

The other Riders have already gone to their dragons, Snotlout extinguishing his lantern, and Fishlegs has gotten the message too. They all turn and take off into the still falling snow, barely able to see but warm with their dragons and Hookfang on fire in the middle of them, relying on their dragons’ innate sense of direction.

It’s a while before Astrid notices Hiccup has fallen asleep against her, foot locked into holding the prosthetic tailfin in place. He’s breathing steadily and still with cold skin, but it’s not ice cold like before and his pulse is stronger. She smiles, feeling the final edges of panic recede and a calm peace fall over her, pulling Hiccup closer to her.

He’s okay. He’s alive. They’ll all be okay.

next entry >>

[norealnameshere]

Fuzzy Induction Script

Hello and greetings!

I’m Arie, and I’ve gotten rather well known for dealing with fuzzies.

No, not dust bunnies and hairballs (although with my VERY long hair, I AM also used to dealing with hairballs. xD), I’m talking about fuzzies of the mind. ;3

When I first started this hypnosis thing on the tisting side, I did NOT know what I was doing, and I latched onto using the concepts of ‘fuzziness’ and ‘fuzzies’. A LOT. I’ve kind of gotten known for it. ^^”

And a lot of people ask me about it, when they hear people I HAVE fuzzied before talk about it. (And hint about how they’d love to experience it. x3) But my availability is SO sporadic that it’s very hard to people to match up to me for sessions. D:

I’ve been doing some recording experiments lately that turned out well, so I thought I would write a script and try my hand at recording it, and to share the fuzzies with the world! : D

CW: This is a silly, vanilla induction themed around fuzzies. I tell you about fuzzies, how they work, take you down and bring you back up. It allows you to stay fuzzy afterwards if you choose to do so, otherwise it will brush all the fuzzies away by the time you’re fully back up.

Greetings and hello and welcome to my kingdom, for I am Arie the Fuzzy Queen and you are my subject, bow before me! *evil laughter*

[beat]

I’m kidding, I’m kidding. This is not THAT kind of recording. ;3

I have picked up the nickname of Fuzzy Queen, though, that is actual truth. Make sure you’re comfortable and I’ll tell you the tale of the fuzzies. It’s kind of an interesting story but it wanders a bit, so make sure you listen close and follow what I say so you don’t lose track. ;3

When I first tried my hand at DOING hypnosis, I struggled a little bit with HOW. I was flying by the seat of my pants, doing it instinctively, relying on what I had heard other people do and making use of my creative writing and improv skills. I had one person in particular that I did many things with, and it was with him that I first started using the imagery of fuzzies.

Fuzzy is a common descriptive word used to describe the feeling of trance, after all, especially if you’ve gotten wonderfully fractionated. That lovely sensation of your thoughts going still and quiet, like a gentle static that fills your brain, a feeling of fuzziness that overlaps everything and makes it so quiet and calm. Like when you go outside after a particularly thick snowstorm, with the sounds being muffled by the heavy layer of snow blanketing everything around you.

One day, while focusing on that concept, that sensation, that feeling, I started describing ‘fuzzies’ - like little mental dust bunnies, bits and specks of fluff and fuzz that are attracted to your mind, that stick especially to a mind gone a little melty, a little trancy, that cling to your thoughts and gently tug them down.

There are many things I’ve figured out about these kinds of fuzzies over time - I have learned the ways of the fuzzy, and have many skills and abilities in toying with them, manipulating them...but we’ll discuss that another time, in another recording. :3

There is one main, important truth about fuzzies - they are attracted to minds, especially melty minds, minds that are drifting, floating, dropping. The deeper you go, the more fuzzies there are. The farther you drop, the more fuzzies you find. And as you drift downwards, deeply dropping, you brush against fuzzy after fuzzy after fuzzy after fuzzy, and they cling to your mind, holding tight. They cover your mind and your thoughts in a thick blanket of warm, comfortable fuzziness.

If I were to count down, from 10 down to 1, you would find that each level of number has more fuzzies drifting around than the level above it, which means the deeper down you go with the numbers, the easier and faster it is to become fuzzier and fuzzier. And just the act of following those numbers down, moving down through those fuzzies, brushes your mind against the fuzzies, and the deeper down you go, the more fuzzies you find and attract and keep, feeling them coat your mind and your thoughts in a thick, comfortable layer of fuzzies that gently weigh down your thoughts and mind and make it so easy to drift and drop and float downwards.

I’m sure you’ve caught a few fuzzies already, even though all we’ve been doing is talking about fuzzies, even though all you’ve been doing is listening to me talk about the Way of the Fuzzy. 

Shall we find a few more, then?

Starting all the way up at 10. Only a few fuzzies floating around up here, not too many to catch.

9. Starting to turn and drift downwards.

8. Feeling your thoughts going quieter and easier to pay no mind to.

7. Brushing against fuzzies with every number down, every step down.

6. Drifting and floating, dropping deeper and deeper.

5. Halfway down, finding so many fuzzies floating around now that they’re almost impossible to avoid, even if you wanted to.

4. Feeling calmer and more comfortable with every number

3. Catching more and more fuzzies with every number, every word, every moment.

2. The fuzzies thick on your mind, heavy on your thoughts, weighing them down and making it so very easy to

1. Drop.

Caught by the fuzzies, caught by my words, and pulled all the way down. 

Feeling yourself floating so comfortably, your mind surrounded with fuzzies, covered in fuzzies, finding it hard to think clearly when your mind is so...very...fuzzy. Fuzzies of course cause fuzziness, so the more fuzzies you have, the fuzzier you feel. A comfortable kind of fuzzy, never so fuzzy that it’s confusing, but always a pleasant, lovely level of fuzziness, never to a point where it’s too much, just always...wonderfully...perfect.

Now, if this weren’t an introduction to fuzzies and how to find them and catch them (or let them catch you, rather), then I could at this point do all sorts of fun little tricks - as the Fuzzy Queen, I have powers over fuzzies and can bid them to do my will, can do neat things like pull the fuzzies out of your mind and put them back, stir them up and make them duplicate, make there be enough fuzzies in your mind that just the weight of them on your thoughts make you instantly drop. I have also in the past set a ‘fuzzy trigger’ that when you say it, fuzzies are attracted and pulled to your mind.

We’re not going to do any of those things, though~ This is an introduction to fuzzies!;3

Instead, I’m going to count you back up, back up to 10, and as we go I’ll gently brush away any unwanted fuzzies, so that when you’re back up and awake and aware, you’ll have only as many fuzzies as you want and is appropriate for you at this time.

Don’t worry, they’ll just drift off and away easily, and be floating around out there for the next time we go seeking them.

So starting all the way down here at 1. 

2. Starting to rise, starting to follow my words up, starting to follow the numbers up.

3. 

4. I reach out and begin gently brushing away the fuzzies from your mind, letting your thoughts begin to clear.

5.

6. More than halfway now, rising easier and easier as I brush away more and more fuzzies.

7.  

8. Only keeping as many fuzzies as you want to hold onto and is appropriate at this time.

9. Starting to move and stretch and feeling so relaxed and calm and content.

10. All the way awake and aware now, rising up up up! 

Heya. ^-^

Hopefully you have enjoyed Fuzzies 101 - you’ll find that however many fuzzies you chose to keep or not keep, they’ll stick around for quite a while. They’ll fade away when you want them to, if you need them to, or after you sleep.

Until next time! ;3

[awesamkiller]

Walk With Me?

The song I listened to while writing

Warnings: nothing, unless you have an aversion to lesbians, trans men, mobility issues or deafness. 

Genre(s): Fluff! Pride!

Word Count: 922

I request: You to tell me how I did! I’ve never really written a darker skinned character, but the prompt said to have people from EXTREMELY DIVERSE backgrounds. The girls got a mobility issue, is white, lives in the shitty part of town, the boys deaf, POC, and lives on the nice side of town. They’re united by pride and pride alone, at least until they learn more about each other!

The bus was loud. It was bustling with teenagers to old folk, some of which were indeed silent as you would expect of public transport. But with the day's destination, she could see why everyone was so bubbly and excited. She heard a yell behind her as the doors closed and she paid the fare, the cheapest ticket for her money. Sure, a return ticket limited her a little bit more than just paying a different ticket to get home whenever she wanted to go home, but let’s be honest, it’s cheaper this way. The bus was alive and buzzing like a raw wire, and, short ginger hair was carded and combed by the busses air-conditioner, she could absorb the energy. The front row of seats was fuzzy and a little less worn-looking than the others as her body was not-so-gracefully dropped into it by her legs. The air circling passengers' ankles was cold and refreshing in the burning summer heat that poured through the glass, and many had colourful layers exacerbating the temperature. Some had flags over their shoulders, some had hilariously unfashionable, garish rainbow cardigans or pink and orange striped long socks, but rest assured everyone was colourful and a little warmer than your average Shelly and her shorts-and-tank top combo.

Closed eyes shielded her for most of the drive as she absentmindedly spun her walking stick between her palms, feeling the colourful electric tape she had decorated the wood with, the bright stripes easily visible in her mind.

The bus was loud. It was bustling with teenagers to old folk, some of which were indeed silent as you would expect of public transport. But with the day's destination, he could see why everyone bounced and babbled like it was a gossip over the garden fence, he should have heard a sweet call of a mother to her child behind him as he boarded, and bought whichever ticket gave him the most flexibility. He felt warm in his green shirt and cargo trousers (Emblazoned with reflective ST. JOHNS AMBULANCE in many places, as ever). It was loud, he spoke in his mind, or at least, it looked to be loud. The bus, to him, was near silent. He heard the bang of an exhaust outside just about, as he took the last remaining seat by a woman looking to be near napping in the heat of the window. He noted, as his bare, caramel skinned arm felt the seat behind him, that these chairs were a little fuzzier, fibres less compressed, the chair in general a little less used. He put his hand on the orange bar in front of him as he shuffled himself back in his seat and bent down to a problem he’d discovered just before boarding the vehicle.

His shoelace was untied. It almost resulted in some scraped hands and ALMOST cost him his hearing aid. If he’d have tripped as he put it in (having a house by the bus-stop is so helpful, sometimes) it would have easily scuttled to, and down the drain like a red skipped pebble. He felt the shoelaces as he tied them. They felt strange on the light skin of his fingertips, the pattern on them forcing them to be flat rather than round, the rainbow stripes were thin, incredibly so, but it was still evident it was a rainbow. Another bright pop on the already bright outfit was the pink blue and white stripes on his pride month epaulets. Sure, they cost a little, and sure he didn’t have to buy them, but pride is good! Pride got the rights they have today, and it’s one of the major reasons that he was able to push testosterone into his body through a needle that morning. He tilted his head back onto the handle that adorned the back of his chair, and closed his eyes with a loose smile, the world around him fading away as he did until it was nothing. He was awake, but all he could really do like this was smell, and the world is a lot more complex than the overwhelming scent of sunscreen around him. He felt the tiny bun of hair on the back of his head catch on the handle slightly before he settled.

Two people woke up from a sun-beaten daze when a set of hands bopped them on their heads. The person behind them left the bus as they both jolted upright like they’d been electric shocked. They watched the bisexual-flag caped stranger bounce off the bus before looking to the person besides them. It was like a funhouse mirror. Two evidently different people with the exact same expression. One had much more textured, darker hair and the other was pale as a bottle of milk. One had caramel, medium coloured skin, while the other had fiery ginger curls in a loose pixie cut.

But both looked like they’d just been struck by lightning, and both found the others expression INCREDIBLY funny. So they laughed. They laughed and they laughed, they laughed as he shuffled to let his new acquaintance out, they laughed as they walked past the driver and thanked him, and they laughed as she clocked onto the red plastic hooked over his ear. He was about to walk away as she raised her hands before her, holding her stick between crossed legs, and signed.

“I’m Emma! What’s your name?”

“I’m Michael. You’re going to pride?”

“Of course! And you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Walk with me?”

[comphersjost]

Rendezvous ➸ Freddie Andersen

sorry for all the people that wanted mo first sksksks hope y’all enjoy this though!

words: 3k+

summary: You shouldn’t want your childhood friend’s teammate as much as you do, but Auston introduced you to him, so what are you going to do, not lust after him?

warnings: smut, dom!freddie, drugs, marijuana mention and use, alcohol, latina reader, spanish is translated in the parentheses and bold

masterlist

The first time you met Freddie was two weeks after you moved to Toronto. Meeting up with an old family friend of yours to make the move easier was something you were grateful for, but what you didn't expect was for Auston to drag you over to a too big, too loud group of his teammates and their partners. Freddie locked eyes with you over the rim of his glass and shot you a smirk, raising his drink to you before Auston tugged you the other direction to introduce you to even more people. 

Looking back you were grateful for the rapid introductions. He introduced you to a circle of friends through which you met more people, making Toronto seem less like the strange city you thought it was going to be and making it feel more like home. You didn't get a chance to speak to Freddie that night, caught up in the whirlwind of introductions to teammates and girlfriends and boyfriends and the blur of more people that it isn't until 2 weeks later that you really get introduced to him.

You're at Auston’s house for god knows what, he just said to come over. He texts you that the door is unlocked, so you walk in, already yelling at him in Spanish for forgetting to call his mom (which you heard from your mom, who heard it from his) and stop short in the foyer, 6 pairs of eyes blinking up at you and Auston laughing his ass off in the corner. 

“Uh, hi,” you say, giving an awkward wave, before narrowing your eyes at the dumb Latino boy you love too much for your own good, and his. 

You pick up an empty plastic water bottle from the table by the couch and toss it towards Auston’s head. “Cabrón!” (Dumbass!) you hiss at him, “Llámale a tu mamá. (Call your mother) And stop using plastic and get a reusable water bottle, you're killing the planet.” Auston only laughs, tossing the bottle back at you and falling short, the bottle landing in front of your feet. 

“Relax, I said I’d call her tonight,” he says smugly, before turning his attention back to the rest of the guys in the room. “Guys this is Y/N, she’s my family friend that moved to Toronto because she loves me- hey!” Auston puts his arm up to deflect the bottle you threw at him again. 

“I moved to Toronto for work, and also I hate you, thanks.” The disgruntled noise Auston lets out causes a smug smile to cross your face. 

“Whatever, anyways,” he grumbles, “You know Mitch and Willy, that’s Kappy, that’s JT, you met Morgan at the bar, and that’s Freddie.” Auston points at each man in his living room, grinning like he knows something you don't. 

You give them each a shy smile, your mouth going dry when you meet Freddie’s eyes. He smiles at you and says, “We’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” And- 

Oh, fuck, you are so screwed. 

Freddie’s just, he’s a lot, with his pretty brown eyes and gentle hands and soft voice, and he quickly becomes the subject of many late night thoughts and fantasies. And really, he shouldn't be. He’s almost 9 years older than you and Auston’s teammate and probably so experienced and he’s so big and- 

You really shouldn't be thinking about him like this. But with his fiery red hair and his confident smirk and dark bedroom eyes glancing at you across the table at bars, it’s just, he’s a lot for you to handle. 

It’s three months after the day at Auston’s place that he catches you outside of a bar, opening his mouth to speak but stopping short to stare at the smoke rolling from your lips. You offer him the pen in your head but he only shakes his head, stopping beside you to lean against the wall. 

The wax clouds your head, and makes you bolder than you normally would have been. “C’mon old man, let loose a little,” you tease. “What, never been high before?” 

Freddie shakes his head lightly, a slight smile playing on his lips. “A couple times, a long time ago.” 

Against your better judgement, you lean into his arm, resting your cheek on his bicep while you take another hit from the pen. “What, it fucks with your lighting fast goalie reflexes?” you giggle, swaying slightly while your head gets even fuzzier from the combination of  alcohol and weed. 

Freddies hand comes up to rest against the side of your neck, shifting so he has you pressed against the brick wall. Your breath catches in your throat when he leans down to run his nose along your neck. “You're a brat,” he murmurs into your ear and you gasp quietly, before he pulls back to stare at you. You feel small under his gaze, squirming uncomfortably as he stares holes into your head. 

You can’t help it, movements seeming slow and cloudy when you cup the back of his neck and pull him down to meet your lips. Freddie groans against your mouth, his tongue soft against your lower lip. You whimper when his hand moves to grip your throat, the other resting on your hip. You grip his button up with the hand not in his hair, trying to drag him as close as possible. 

Here he was, the man who’s been at the center of your fantasies for months and you probably won't even remember this in the morning. 

Freddie’s hand tightens against your throat as he drags his lips down your jaw, a strangled moan escaping you when he scrapes his teeth across your pulse. He groans softly at the noise you make, sucking a dark mark into your skin before pulling back again. He cups your cheek, one hand covering almost half your face. 

“I-” he stops, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, “I should bend you over my lap.” 

It takes a moment for the words to register, but- 

“Oh.” Your stomach knots itself, the idea more appealing than you ever would have thought. Freddie. Spanking you. 

“But I can't.” You let out a disappointed noise, sticking out your swollen bottom lip in a pout. 

“Why not?” you say breathily, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Needy,” he chuckles darkly. He leans down again, tugging your lip out of the pout before kissing you softly. “You're crossed, sweetheart. Which is another thing is should punish you for. So reckless and needy aren't you?” 

You smile sweetly up at him, nodding and humming a soft, “Mhm.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him again, the hand that was on your throat leaving your skin to rest along your ribs. 

“Another time,” Freddie whispers against your mouth. 

You pout again. “Promise?” 

He laughs again. “Promise, baby.” 

- 

You wake up the next morning with your head pounding and your movements sluggish and slow. There's noise coming from the kitchen, and in your hungover and still-fuzzy state you don't bother putting on pants, padding slowly through your apartment in an oversized t-shirt you don't remember putting on. 

“You’re so loud,” you whisper to the giant man in your kitchen, squinting at the brightness of the lights streaming through the window.

Freddie smiles gently at you, “Good morning, sweetheart.” You shush him, reaching for the glass of water he offers you and taking sips as you climb clumsily onto the counter. 

“Did you sleep here last night?” you ask, voice hoarse and raspy. He nods. 

“You remember anything from last night?” Freddie murmurs as he moves around the kitchen searching for different ingredients. You groan softly as flashes from the night before return to you and your headache fades. The game, the bar, alleyway, weed, the kiss - I should bend you over my lap. Shit. You're eyes widen, and suddenly you feel sober, the fog in your brain gone.

“Um,” you stare at the ground, unwilling to meet his eyes. Your hand comes up to press on the bruise he left the night before, jerking it away at the sting.

“Hey,” he comes to stand between your thighs, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “It’s okay if you don't want - if you didn't mean it, you were crossed and I-” 

“I want it.” The words come out as a whisper, and your eyes slide up to look into his. “I want you.” 

Freddie’s smile is blinding. “Yeah?” he asks, leaning a little closer to you. You nod in response, your gaze dropping to his lips. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, before he closes the gap. 

You moan softly as he kisses you, with a semi-clear head, it feels better than you thought last night. Freddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, squeezing them gently as he tilts his head to cover your mouth more completely. His tongue slides into your mouth and you whine, desperately trying to control the ache between your thighs. 

His fingers stroke along your thighs gently, gripping you so tight you're sure you'll feel it when this is over. One hand comes up to squeeze at your breast through your shirt and you break from him to gasp, arching your back, before he pulls your mouth back to his. He squeezes again before dropping his hand to your hip. You feel him groan more than you hear him when your hands tangle in his hair, tugging at it to pull his head back so you can drop your lips to his neck. 

“Can I mark you? Please?” you mumble against his neck, peppering kisses over his throat. Freddie hums his approval and you wiggle happily in his arms, sucking on the skin covering his pulse, ignoring his throaty moans until you're sure there's a big, purple mark on his pale skin. You hum against him again, burying your face in his shoulder when you speak again. “Can you spank me later? I just want you inside me.” 

Freddie laughs. A loud, happy laugh that has your heart feeling warm and fuzzy. 

“Got it,” he chuckles, “Fuck you now, spank you later?” 

You smile up at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” you giggle, “I may be a brat but I can be good.” 

He kisses you again, voice suddenly going dark and low. “You can be as good as you want, sweetheart, I’ll still spank you and you’ll still like it.” 

Your lips part in an o-shape, and he grins wickedly and cups your jaw, sliding his thumb into your open mouth. You close your mouth around him, your tongue sliding against his thumb. 

“Good girl,” he mutters softly, his free hand sliding under your shirt to tug it towards your head. You whine when he withdraws his thumb from your mouth, but lift your arms obediently so he can draw the shirt off of you. Freddie’s hands cup your breasts and squeeze, rolling your nipples almost painfully between his fingers. You whimper softly and arch towards him, desperate for more contact, desperate for his cock. 

You reach for the bulge in his jeans, not at all surprised to find him achingly hard under your palm. “Freddie, c’mon,” you whine as he kisses along your jaw and you tug at his belt loops.

“Beg,” he hums against your skin, pulling back to stare down at you pointedly. 

“Please, Fred,” you plead, “C’mon, please.” He is face sharpens into a glare and you pout again. “Please, daddy? Please fuck me.” 

He smiles again. “Good girl,” he coos, before tugging your panties to the side and running his fingers through your folds. You gasp and whine at the action and grip his shoulder and hip desperately. 

“Please, please.” Freddie grips your hips and drags you off the counter, turning you around and bending you over it while pressing kisses to your shoulder. 

“Watch your head,” he murmurs against your back. You feel your heart flutter at the care he takes to make sure you don't hit your head against the cabinet even though he's about to fuck you. He drags your panties over your ass and down your thighs, letting you step out of them and kick them to the side once they drop to the floor. 

Freddie gives you no prep, and no warning except for the zip of his jeans, before the swollen head of his cock is nudging at your hole. You whimper softly at the first breach of his cock, hands grasping at nothing in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. 

“Yeah, that's it,” he groans against your neck, leaving another bruise as he inches forward. “You're gonna take all of it, aren't you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” 

“Yes, daddy!” you cry out as he continues to slide deeper inside you. There's a faint sting from being so stretched, but - fuck, you're finally full of Freddie just like you've wanted for three months and nothing has ever felt so good. 

You rest your cheek against the cool tile of the counter as his hips meet your ass, stilling for a moment to let you adjust to the size of him inside you. His chest is pressed against your back, lips landing on any spot they can reach, and he has one hand on your hip while the other circles your waist. 

“Good, baby?” he moans breathlessly, leaving another biting kiss on your shoulder. 

“Mmmmm,” you moan softly, pushing your hips back as if you weren't already so stuffed with his cock. “Sooooo good, daddy, please move, pleasepleaseplease.” 

Freddie drags his hips back for a moment before snapping them back into you, drawing a yelp from your throat. The sting of his torso on your ass is delicious, only adding to the sensations you're already feeling. You whine again as he grinds into you, as if he can't bear to withdraw from you for a moment. 

“Oh, fuck, baby, you're so good for me, you're so fucking tight.” Freddie’s voice sounds tight and restrained, as if he's holding back. 

You whine again, “Please fuck me, oh god, daddy, please, harder.” 

Freddie relents, the warmth of his skin against your back and aroung your waist disappearing as he stands straight to fuck into you. He places a hand in the center of your back, the other remaining on your hip, to keep you pinned as he rails you into the counter. 

The sounds leaving him are animalistic, predatory, and his cock hits spots inside you you never could’ve found on your own. You're whining, breathless, and you sound pornographic as you beg for more. Incoherent babbles of “Please, please, yes, ohhh right there, please, yes daddy, please” are the only words you're able to formulate, brain addled with the feeling of him and the fuzziness of last night’s substances. 

You scramble for something to hold onto, before Freddie reaches for your hand with one of his, tangling his fingers with yours and hunching over you again. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he pants against your back, pairing the words with another sharp thrust into you. The drag of his cock against your walls is almost too much, causing you to squirm under him, for more or less, you're not sure. 

“Freddie,” you gasp, pushing your hips back towards him. The blow to your ass that comes afterwards has you crying out and immediate apology. “I’m sorry! Daddy! Please, don't stop!” 

“Thatta girl,” he breathes into your hair. “Can you come for me, darling? Come on, I want you to come for me.” You try to reply but Freddie’s fingers slide to your clit and your eyes roll back, squealing at his relentless rubbing while he fucks into you. His voice comes out as a growl as he commands, “Come for me.” 

A scream leaves your lips as he pushes you over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his cock as your body jerks through your orgasm. Freddie forces his cock in and out of you as you clench down on him, but you barely hear the throaty noises he makes at the feel of you coming on his cock. 

“Baby, please, fuck can I -” Freddie chokes as you clench on him, “Can I come in - fuck -”

“Please,” you wail, “Please, inside, oh fuck please.” He lets out a long moan of satisfaction at your permission, forgoing sharp thrusts to instead grind against you before finally freezing as deep inside you as he can get. 

“Yesss, sweetheart, take it all, good girl, so good for me, take it.” The heat of Freddie’s cum inside you has you squirming through the aftershocks of your orgasm, his own high seeming to last forever as he keeps spilling into you. 

“Fuuuck,” you whine, all energy leaving your body when he collapses on top of you.

“You're so good,” he murmurs, kissing along your shoulder and neck and any part of your face he can reach. “You took it all like a good girl, good job, baby.” You moan happily at the praising, squeezing his hand in response. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as he draws out of you, the feeling of his cum dripping from your cunt following moments after his cock. 

“C’mere,” Freddie whispers gently, supporting your weak body off the counter and picking you up, before making his way to the couch. He sets you in his lap when he sits, pressing his nose into your temple and whispering sweet words to you as your eyes drift shut. “Okay baby?” 

“Mhm,” you mumble back. “So okay. More than okay. Fantastic. Amazing. We should’ve been doing that for months.” Freddie laughs, before shifting to lay on the couch with you on top of him, your back to his chest. He pushes your thighs apart, hand reaching between them to play with your cunt. 

“Fred!” You whine, trying to arch away from him. He hums against your neck, using his other hand to push your hips back down. 

“Let me make you cum, baby,” he says against your neck, and you can feel his smile against your skin. “Then maybe you’ll let me take you out? Breakfast or brunch or something?”

Your laugh is loud and happy, before turning into a moan when he slips two fingers inside you. “Yes,” you gasp, “Yeah you can take me out after this.”

[cockymclaughlin]

can i get uhhhh whole ass sorta-kinda-bratty link being Real Whiny and rhett shutting him up with that 💯 dick (or making him even more whiny just for a different reason)

He’s been sitting on the edge of the bed for long enough to constitute as too long, scrolling through the barrage of emails that can definitely wait. It used to be that this stuff would bother him, and maybe if he sits still for long enough, it would now, too. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to see. 

Probably not, but it’s worthy enough of a reasoning as anything else, and it’s what he says when Rhett asks him why he’s still just sitting here. 

“No, seriously, man,” Rhett says, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. It’s so long now that it takes forever to dry. 

Link remembers the feeling of wet shoulders for nearly two hours after a shower, and sends out some silent sympathy into the universe. Not that it stops him from saying, “You’re boring me, is all.” 

“Oh?” His face is tilted into a grin that Link always manages to slot himself into with no trouble at all. 

He lets out a heavy sigh, locks his phone before tossing it aside and letting himself sink backwards into the mattress. “I miss my bed.” 

“You miss your routine,” Rhett corrects. He’s right, and that irritates Link more than his tone does. 

He doesn’t nod, doesn’t do anything except groan and flop his arms to his sides, take up as much of the bed as he can in revenge. Introspectively, these sorts of moods of his never do anything except leave him feeling manic. It’s attention he wants, and it’s attention Rhett doesn’t want to give him. 

Starve a fever and all that, he supposes. 

“Your hair’s gonna be wet forever now,” Link says. 

“Forty minutes.” Like he’s timed it or something. 

“You can sit over there til it’s dry, then.” 

There’s a snort, and Rhett’s got him figured out already. 

Two years of conversations and squirming, and Rhett finally pieced it all together. They’re better for it, absolutely, but sometimes Link wonders if maybe talking about it didn’t open the flood gates, leave him shaky and empty when they aren’t doing this. 

He says, “I’m serious.” 

And now he’s looking for a fight. 

“You done yet?” Rhett asks, and there it is. There it is, blooming with heat in the center of his stomach like he’s just swallowed a handful of embers. “Because I think you’re probably done.” 

“You ain’t getting in our bed with your hair all wet, man,” Link laughs, getting his hands on his belly, trying to feel that warmth from the inside out. 

He hears the towel being dropped on the floor, sees the shadows of Rhett standing from the desk chair on the ceiling. If he tries hard enough, he can count the amount of time it’s going to take Rhett to make a decision here in his own heartbeats. But instead, he swallows hard enough that he knows Rhett can watch the bob of his throat, lets his eyes fall shut around a cock-sure grin. 

“You done yet?” Only this time it’s close, it’s warm just like Link’s belly, and it’s right in his face. He feels the first drip of water on his skin, and he opens his eyes. 

“Go blow dry that mess,” he says, the grin sliding into a practiced and dramatic frown as he wipes at droplets of water that smell like Rhett. 

Rhett doesn’t shake his head like a dog like Link would have done, but he does get on all fours over him, get his thighs around Link’s hips and squeeze. When his hands land on Link’s wrists, he feels himself getting lighter, fuzzier around the edges. And it’s not that he’s missed this, it’s that he thinks he might just be wired directly for it. He’s sure he could get it every day and still want it. 

This time Rhett says, “You’re done, Link. Stop talking.” 

“Or what?” 

Make me. 

Rhett’s thighs squeeze tighter, and he sucks in a heavy, displeased sound when Link squirms. It’s like molasses dripping down his spine in rivulets, coating every inch of his nerve endings in sweetness that he can’t get away from. And when Rhett leans forward to slot their mouths together, Link can taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

This warmth is familiar, stoking those embers, and it’s so easy to fall into this. Rhett’s hands are never rough, but they’re firm and sure, and they’re guiding Link’s wrists behind his own head. When they pull apart, it’s so Rhett can tell him, “Keep those there, or you’re goin’ to bed with nothing, you hear me?” 

“Yes,” Link hisses. 

“I shouldn’t give you anything to begin with,” Rhett says, murmuring it into Link’s skin like he can’t help himself from saying it, like he’s asking for repentance. 

Link wiggles his hips, arches into whatever contact Rhett feels like giving him, and he knows he’s pushing it. When there’s a hand on the center of his chest, holding him down, he asks, “You’re gonna give it to me, though, aren’t you?” 

“Not if you don’t stop talking like I asked you to.” It’s a promise this time, Link can tell, pressed into his skin like a prayer. 

He never feels better than this, that fuzziness heavy in his limbs. Even as Rhett tugs his clothes off of him, spreads him out naked against the sheets, drops of water dotting Link’s skin like spiteful constellations. 

And those fingers, slick and careful, pressing into him and opening him up as Rhett stays clothed and in control, and Link-- 

Link loses himself in it a little, he thinks. He loses bits of himself in this every time, but he doesn’t miss any of them. Under the weight of his head, his hands are going numb, but he doesn’t care about that either. All he wants is to keep pressing up unto the feeling of Rhett’s hands. 

He wants to match the vibrations of his voice rumbling out of his chest to the ones in Link’s own veins as his nerves get shaken loose. 

“Gosh,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as Rhett lines himself up, starts pressing inside. “Gosh, Rhett.” 

And Rhett doesn’t say anything back, but that’s okay, because Link’s never felt better. He’s never felt more like himself. 

So he says, slurs, “Want this forever.” 

This time Rhett smiles at him, chuckles warmly enough that it doesn’t feel like a joke, and says, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I-- I love it just like this,” Link promises, because he thinks he owes Rhett at least that much. 

“I know,” Rhett tells him. He’s trembling, just a bit, just enough for Link to notice through his own haze, and he’s pressed all the way inside and it’s perfect.

It’s perfect. 

There’s a hand on his cock, and he arches up into it, choking back the sob building in his chest. He might burst, but that’s okay, too. 

He might come, and Rhett hasn’t even moved yet. All he’s done is filled Link up. All he’s done is stretched him out and shut him up. 

And he says, “You’re good at that, you know?” but his voice is low and gravely. 

He sounds desperate. He feels desperate. 

“At putting you in your place?” 

And oh. 

Oh. That’s good, that’s enough, and he’s clenching down around Rhett, listening to the sharp way he agrees, coming all over himself with a thick, heavy sound. It rushes through him in a sharp sort of desperation not unlike the one he’s been feeling all night. It’s good, so fucking good, and it doesn’t stop being good.

Rhett makes a low sound of his own, finally sounds as ruined as Link, and he’s moving. It’s easy and careful before Link is going boneless and lax against the bed, rocking his hips up into Rhett’s. 

He says, “You gonna come inside me, big guy?” 

He says, “Want you to come inside me.” 

And Rhett gets a hand over his mouth, doesn’t flinch when Link licks across his palm in self-defense. His brow is furrowed, his hips working slow and hard and deep, and Link’s getting a bit sensitive now, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. 

All he wants is this, forever. 

When Rhett comes, it’s with a whine, and he’s pulling his hand away from Link’s mouth to slot their mouths together wetly. He’s trembling, still, and he grinds his hips against Link with a pitiful sound tumbling out of him. 

Link feels like he’s on fire, those embers freshly stoked, and Rhett is the one to put his hands on Link’s belly this time.