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thesensteawitch · 3 months

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A Long Awaited Message From Your Spirit Guides 🩵🧚

Pick A Pile Reading

🩵(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)🩵

Hello, Senstea Souls!🦋🩷

This is a collective reading on a long awaited message from your spirit guides about a specific situation in your life. Take a deep breath and choose your pile/piles intuitively. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Feel free to DM me in case you want to book a reading with me.

Now go ahead and read your pile.

Also, thank you for all the reblogs that you guys do. I am forever grateful!🌻

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Pile 1

Tarot Cards- Ace of Cups, 8 of wands, King of swords, page of pentacles, 4 of Pentacles, ace of pentacles

Hello, my dear pile 1. Well for you I see that this specific message is regarding your health or some insecurities regarding your body. For a very long time, you have not been feeling good in your body. Some of you may even be going through some health issues. It has been pretty overwhelming for you to deal with what was coming towards you on the health front. Your spirit guides want you to stop thinking of the worst-case scenarios or look down upon your body in any way possible. Because your thoughts create your reality. But the good thing is that none of the worst-case scenarios that are playing in your head are going to come true. Nothing will come out of this worry but if you don't stop thinking of negative thoughts then you'll develop a pattern that will lead you to manifest worst-case scenarios in other areas of your life. So please, my dear pile 1, stop worrying. Rewire your brain to think of the best-case scenarios. The card here says, “You do not have to think specific positive thoughts about your body, but you have to not think specific negative thoughts. If you could never again think about your body, and instead just think pleasant thoughts, your body would reclaim its natural place of wellness.” I also sense a rigid mindset. Your energy is inflexible. I see two polarities but it's difficult for you to find a common ground between them. The two polarities confuse you. You must learn to accept both worlds and find peace in that acceptance. As much as gray there is in this world, it's equally true that black and white exist too. You need to ground your energy. Your root chakra may be imbalanced. Spend time in nature. Open your heart to the healing energy of the earth. Don't hold onto the idea that your body should be a certain way. You can't afford to do that! Don't think you have so less and hold onto it. There's abundance and soon you'll be shown the way. Give yourself a chance. Don't try to look too much into the way your body is. It is lovely the way it is. Once a doctor said to me, “Your heart is still beating, isn't it? Your lungs are still working perfectly fine, aren't they? That means you have a purpose to fulfill and your story isn't over yet. There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect the way you are. There's no one else like you. God didn't make the exact same human as you and sent them to this earth in the same family as yours or the same environment as yours. You are unique!” Know that the universe will test you and will see if you've learned your lesson or not. So do not look down upon your body in any way. It's your safe abode. As soon as you let go of the insecurities you'll soon notice your creativity birthing out of your sacral chakra. You'll start expressing more and won't let anybody make you believe otherwise about your body. I also sense new opportunities in terms of healing and career are coming your way so keep your eyes open. Free yourself, free your spirit.

For any further clarification or to book your personal reading on this situation feel free to DM me.

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Pile 2

Tarot Cards- The Lovers, King of Pentacles, Eight of Swords, Seven of Cups, Eight of Pentacles, Eight of Cups, Two of Wands

Hello, my dear pile 2. Well, the first thing that I sensed is that some of you may be projectors by human design. Because the card here says, “The entire universe is being affected by what you are offering.” You have this sweet child-like energy but at the same time, you are a wise old soul. You may be seeing a lot of angel numbers, especially 888. I hear, “What comes down must go up.” Your life is about to change pile 2. Your guides want you to know that whatever decisions you are making right now are drastically shaping your future. Many of you are stuck between two decisions and your only way out is to take a balanced approach. There is strong water and fire energy in the cards. Opposing forces but very powerful. Both can cleanse and heal. Some of you are even going through a period of cleansing. A lot of negativity is being released from your life so don't hold onto your past. Your hard work will pay off and soon you'll find the clarity regarding a certain situation you're very confused about. All your long-awaited dreams are soon coming true. Your spirit guides want you to know that all the pain and confusion you went through was part of the plan only to bless you beyond your imagination. Your patience will reap rewards. For some of you, I hear that your patience will bring true love in your life. A time of celebration awaits. No one and nothing can put you down. Nobody will be able to stop you. I hear ‘Unstoppable’ by Sia. Being a projector you took in a lot of negativity from people's aura and now it's time for you to release all of that. It's time for you to come to yourself. Call all your power back that you gave away to others. I sense that some of you are even highly sensitive. You can easily pick up on people's true intentions. Don't underestimate your own power pile 2. You're gifted. Do not undermine your own gifts. The world needs someone like you. And you guys are soon going to receive a big boon and you guys are so intelligent that you will know how to make the best use of it. I sense strong psychic abilities in this pile. You are beyond beautiful, pile 2. I am in awe!!!!!! The only guidance here is to listen to your intuition and to leave the toxicity behind. Be it people or places. Those who can't reciprocate what you have to offer don't DESERVE to be in your life. Period. Protect yourself, you beautiful souls!

For any further clarification or to book your personal reading on this situation feel free to DM me.

Below I am sharing the links to:

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Pile 3

Tarot Cards- Page of Cups, 10 of Cups, The Lovers, 7 of Cups, 6 of Swords, Queen of Swords

Hello, my dear pile 3. For most of you, the message has something to do with ‘love’. I am even hearing, “To love, love, yeah. I needed to lose you to love me.” I also sense that fun times are coming for you but it seems that some of you are heartbroken about a situation or relationship that ended in your life. You are looking for closure. You need to make some adjustments in your life because what happened in your life happened to teach a very important karmic lesson. I also hear, “In this world, it's just us. You know it's not the same as it was.” Your card says, “Be easy about all of this. Life is supposed to be fun, you know. We want you to feel love for your life, for the people of your world, and most of all, for yourself. There is great love here for you.” Some of you may be moving places or recently moved to a different place and are feeling disheartened. The card wants you to know that love is everywhere you go. And I don't think that you guys are alone. There's someone still sticking around with you. It's time for you to explore what it truly means to love and feel loved. It doesn't mean that you're supposed to go on multiple dates but experience love in every way possible. Write someone a letter, paint, give someone flowers, or apologize to someone if any apologies are pending. As you embody love soon the romantic love will find you and it will stay with you for a lifetime. You may be tempted to go back to your ex or the person you broke up with. But please don't, especially with the same energy that you sent out previously. Do the right thing. There's no point in writing the same story over and over again. Don't start many things just focus on one thing. You may end up feeling tired or low in confidence at the end of the day as you may end up having high expectations from yourself. It's time for you to write a new story and not repeat the same old patterns. That's why your guides are asking you to make some adjustments in your life. Have fun with your work but don't end up burnt out. Forgive those who have left you and forgive yourself if something didn't work out. It's time to let go. Remember what's meant for you won't pass you by. So take things lightly and hold onto the spark of inspiration that you may get now and then. Keep your heart pure and don't let your love be overcome by any temptations.

For any further clarification or to book your personal reading on this situation feel free to DM me.

Below I am sharing the links to:

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xxsugarbones · 5 months

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-as a kite 🪁

-just 🍃smoking🍃 with your fave character

cw- implied afab!reader but no terms used, heavily implied plus size reader, dr*g usage (weed), brief mention of oral (reader rec.), brief mention of p in v, shotgunning at the end

wc - 1.1k

|| an - hello!! this is my first post so pls be nice because i am terrified of posting this lmfao. very clearly inspired by the fact that i am currently high as a kite and these are just my cheeky little delulu ramblings 😭 This is obviously very self indulgent because all i can every think about doing while high is these kinds of scenarios 😮‍💨

pls enjoy!!

Lately I’ve been thinking about smoking with my faves- or even just getting high with them in general. Whether it be edibles, smoking joints, or smoking cones.

But to be very specific, instead of having edibles or smoking a joint, you two are sharing a bong. Short, but slender, the perfect little “pocket rocket” as you liked to call it. Perfect for travelling, and for moments like these, so he doesn’t burn himself too easily.

He’s got you straddling his lap, one of your hands holding the bong up to your lips and the other resting just atop his wrist, holding him still. One of his own hands held the lighter to the cone piece, allowing you to take the deep inhale, while the other made sure to keep your loose hair pushed back with two fingers, almost cupping your face in the process. He could feel the heat from the lighter on the thin skin of his wrist, but he paid no mind to it, instead watching the way the thick white smoke filled the chamber. You almost finished the entirety of the pull but had to pull back just towards the end, eyes closed and head quickly throwing back. Thick, rolling ‘o’ shaped puffs of smoke were blown from your mouth, and he watched them rise up, rolling for a good few seconds before they slowly dispersed.

“Ooh, nice ones, baby. Think they’re the best ones you’ve done so far.” He praised, moving the hand from your hair down your neck, running it gently along your torso and hip, until letting it come to rest on your thigh to keep you steady. Which turned out to be a good move, because a few seconds later you moved the hand from his wrist, tucking your mouth into your elbow and coughing. He chuckled, shaking his head and taking the bong from you, setting it to the side and raising his hand to carefully help rub over your chest to try and soothe the burning feeling with his warm palm. The coughing fit lasts for a few seconds, before you can finally relax, letting out a shaky sigh. You opened your eyes, little tears from how rough the fit was wetting the corner of your bloodshot eyes, and a sheepish little smile pulling your lips upwards. He laughed and just how high you actually looked.

“Oh honey.” He cooed, reaching for the little bottle of water he’d kept by his side just in case. He slipped it into your hands, and you thanked him sweetly, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. He watched your throat bob ever so slightly as you swallowed the water, and he hummed out a lazy “no worries” in response. He watched you fully relax again, screwing the cap back on and setting it back down and your sides.

“Y’feelin’ better now?” He cooed, his hand sliding down the centre of your chest, making your cheeks flush at the intimate touch, and smoothing it down your stomach, your muscles twitching a little at the almost ghostly touches. You weren’t ticklish, but that particular spot, just above your pubic bone, the soft pudge of your stomach was sensitive to his touch. He enjoyed the feeling of the flesh subtly twitch under the palm of his hand, and it always made your breath shudder at the same time.

“Y-Yeah. I’m good.” You breathed, just watching his eyes take in your slightly dopey expression. He chuckled, carefully grabbing your jaw and pulling your face forward towards his own. You angled yourself down so he could connect your lips in a sweet kiss. You cooed against his lips, your hands gently cupping the sides of his neck to keep him close to you. A few soft kisses ended up turning into a slow make out session, your arms thrown around his neck, a hand carefully tangled into the roots of his hair at the back of his neck, nails scratching nicely along his scalp, while his hands rest on your ass, squeezing and very occasionally smacking the thinly covered flesh over your little pyjama shorts. His tongue lapped slowly at yours before carefully pulling it into his own mouth, giving it a little suckle that made you whimper against his lips. He returned it with a chuckle, letting your tongue go after one last gentle lick of his own against the tip, and you pulled back for air, panting. He reached up, using the palm of his hand to carefully swipe away some combined spit that had dribbled from the corner of your mouth. He looked cocky- he always looked cocky when you were like this, flustered and needy, just for him. It meant he could play with you just how he liked, and hell, you were not complaining. Sometimes he would lay you on your back, head between your thighs and licking and sucking you like you were the sweetest treat on earth, your sensitive body writhing under his ministrations while he had his fill. Or he’d have you on your hands and knees, face pushed into the pillows and your back arched, kneeling behind you and fucking you absolutely dumb until you had forgotten your own name, and could only recite his like a mantra. And you loved every single second of it.

But as you whined when he didn’t move for a moment, he simply reached over for the bong, plucking it back up once again and carefully tucking it into your hand again, and snatching up the lighter off the couch cushion. He smirked at your slightly surprised expression.

“Aren’t you gonna have any, baby?” You questioned softly. He hushed you, watching you slot your lips into the glass, and sparked the lighter up again, watching you once again inhale, the smoke rising quickly into your mouth, and into your lungs.

“‘s fine, I’ll have some after you finish yours, pretty. Just thought you could use a top-up.” He taunted, eyes half lidded and seductive. You pulled the remainder of the cone with relative ease, pulling back from the bong and once again leaning down, holding the smoke in your mouth, until you were close enough to softly blow it onto his face. He wanted to tease, so could you. He let out a sound between a sneer and a purr, quickly nearing his lips to yours as he inhaled the smoke you blew into his face.

“Little minx.” He growled, smacking your ass again, making you jump, then giggle, blowing him a kiss.

Yeah. 😩

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zoeykallus · 11 months

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hi i couldn't find the status of your requests so i figure there is no harm in just putting this out there? I understand if they are closed though and I just didn't find it so no pressure!!

Anyways, I wanted to request thigh riding with the bad batch + rex (and maybe fives if you are down?)

Thank you so much!!!

Aloha!

Hmm, good request 🤤 I can only guess, but looking at the thigh riding thing, I assume we talk about a fem!Reader? Well, let's hope I assumed right 😅

The Bad Batch/Rex/Fives x Fem!Reader HCs- Thigh Riding Part 1 Of 2

Warnings: Strongly Suggestive/Dry Humping/Thigh Riding/Strong Language/18+

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AC: Sorry, got carried away with the idea I had for the Tech part. And Again, I did much more than I planned in the first place, so I have to make this into two parts, or I'll never get done with this 😅

Tech

You are working in the small engine room of the Marauder. It's pretty cramped in here, you're practically sitting on Tech's lap, or rather he's sitting, and you're standing, one of his legs between yours. It's warm in here, so you've shed most of your gear. Tech is practically wearing just his Blacks, codpiece and tool belt. You're wearing a tank top and your tight yoga pants. Actually, you had wanted to do some exercise, but Tech approached you and asked for help before you could.

You're wrenching something behind Tech, practically over his shoulder, and he's working at about your waist level next to you.

"Isn't that too uncomfortable? It's cramped in here, and working so close together isn't everyone's cup of tea."

You shrug your shoulders and say, "It doesn't bother me."

Of course, you don't mind working so closely with Tech, quite the opposite, but you don't say it so specifically.

He says matter-of-factly, "Besides you, there's only Wrecker here today, and he won't fit between the machines with me."

Clearly, you hope there's more to it than practical thinking, but you can never be sure with Tech.

"I understand," you say neutrally and ask, "Can you see what you're working on or am I in the way?"

You don't see Tech's gaze glance very briefly over your cleavage and then back to his work.

He replies, "I can't complain about the view."

You wonder at his choice of words, but don't really think anything of it, not with Tech. He changes his position a bit to better reach the cables he needs to connect, brushing his thigh up between yours, touching the center between them for a brief moment.

Immediately, heat rises in you and a tingling sensation deep in your belly moves down into the heated triangle between your thighs.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

You're so close to him, but you're working, actually, there's nothing really intimate about this, but it feels like it. It's a bittersweet agony. As far as you know, Tech has no idea you have a crush on him. Would he work as closely with you if he did know?

You also have to bend over further and down, towards him. Your center is now practically resting on his thigh. You feel every little muscle movement on his part through the thin fabric of your pants.

Nervously, you lick your lips, glad that Tech doesn't have Hunter's senses, because otherwise he would already know about the heat rising in you. It tingles wonderfully, you feel a little ashamed of it, but you also enjoy it.

As Tech moves again, pushing his thigh up again, a surprised gasp comes over your lips. He pauses, as do you.

"Is this uncomfortable for you? I mean working in this position?" he asks cautiously.

You clear your throat before answering, "No, not at all"

"You seem a little tense".

You feel hot and cold and consider telling him the truth.

"I… it feels, pleasant" you say softly.

Tech tries to read in your tone, in your posture, by now he's learned a little, but he's not sure.

"Maybe we should try to release some of this tension?"

You pause again, listening.

"It sounds like you already have ideas about that," you say curiously.

He fidgets a bit, unsure how to proceed, causing even more friction between your thighs and eliciting another small gasp from you. Tech holds still, slowly looking up at you standing there over his lap.

With his index finger, he thoughtfully pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose and says, "Oh, I see. Is it sexual tension?"

"I… what?" you ask, perplexed.

Instead of repeating his question, he tenses his thigh and lets it gently but firmly brush over your clothed pussy. The tool slips from your hand, falls clattering to the floor, and your hands automatically shoot to his shoulders.

When he stops again, you hastily let go of his shoulders. You feel your panties wet by now, your face and ears feeling red hot.

"Tech-" you begin, but he gently interrupts you.

"It's okay, I'm happy to help you release this tension if you'll let me".

He's still looking up, into your face, as he removes his gloves. Slowly, carefully, his hands move to your hips and gently but firmly grasp, pushing you towards his tense thigh. You almost automatically pick up the motion he's giving you with his hands, rubbing your pussy over his thigh. The friction instantly sends sweet, tingling pulses through your starved neural pathways. Your hands travel down his neck and over his shoulders.

Slowly but purposefully, his hands move to your buns and grasp, curious as well as hungry, kneading gently.

Somewhat breathlessly, Tech says, "You'll tell me if I go too far?"

Your mind is completely befuddled at the moment, all you can think about is that feeling, his hands on your ass, his thigh against your pussy.

"Okay," you say just as breathlessly.

His fingertips wander testingly and gently to the waistband of your yoga pants, slipping very slowly underneath and pulling the fabric down a little. Tech waits while you continue to shamelessly rub against him. When you voice no objections, instead rubbing against him even more intensely, his fingers begin to slide down the sides of your buns, under the fabric of the panties, and feel the bare skin underneath.

He gropes and expels a shaky breath. Behind his codpiece, the only piece of his armor he wears, his cock is already hard as stone. He hears you gasp and looks up again. Your eyes are closed, your head leaning back, your fingers clawed into his shoulders as your climax overtakes you.

With his mouth open, he stares at you, listening, his hands firmly on your bare ass. His thighs tremble, including the one you're rubbing against. He swallows, suppresses a soft curse, and surprisingly cums under his codpiece. Tech didn't necessarily expect that, at the moment he's grateful to be camouflaged.

Your eyes open and with heated cheeks you look at him.

"Thank you, Tech," you say softly, a little breathlessly.

He clears his throat and says, "Anytime."

Hunter

He smirks at you, you return his gaze questioningly.

"What's going on? What are you thinking about right now?"

He laughs softly.

"I can smell what you're thinking about."

You get hot and cold, you want to avert your eyes in shame, but he says, "Besides, I see you staring at my thighs," and taps his right thigh invitingly, "Come here sweetie."

You stand up, coming closer. As soon as you're in range, he unbuckles the piece of armor on his thigh, drops it to the ground, grabs your hips with gusto, and pulls you onto his thigh. Hunter grabs your chin, kisses you softly and says, "I know what my girl likes."

Indeed, he does. His hands move to the hem of your skirt and push it up, exposing your lace panties. Hunter smiles and looks back up into your face.

"Are you wearing some pretty underwear for me".

You nod with a small smirk.

Hunter's hands slide down your thighs, the touch on your bare skin, leaving a pleasant tingle that travels all the way to your pussy. Finally, his hands are on your hips under your skirt. He tenses his thigh, letting you feel it.

"Go ahead, get what you need," he says suggestively, pulling on your hips in an inviting way.

You start to move, and he flexes his thigh muscle to give you some incentive. Your clit rubs over his hard, taut muscle. It doesn't take long for your juices to collect and start dripping through the panties and staining his blacks.

"I'm going to stain your blacks," you say with a soft sigh.

"That's alright" Hunter assures you, "I can change later".

You move faster, massaging your pussy against his thigh, feeling the familiar tingle in your belly, the longed-for pulse in your wet slit. Hunter listens to your little sighs and moans, looks contentedly at your fingers clinging to the breastplate of his armor.

He glances down, pulling the fabric of your skirt up a bit more, and grins as he sees the wet spot spreading there on the fabric at his thigh.

"Good girl, keep going, keep going".

He is horny, his cock already hard behind his codpiece, but he lets you do your thing. He starts to gently knead your ass, sliding his fingers over your buns. Suddenly, one of his hands pulls the neckline of your top down along with the cups of your bra, exposing your breasts. The next moment, he has one of your nipples between his lips, his tongue dancing around the sensitive bud.

A moan passes your lips, a renewed, much more intense pulse starts in your belly and shoots downward, your thighs clamp around his as his hands reach for your ass again while his mouth lusts over your breasts.

"Fuck," you moan out softly.

It's almost time. He hums contentedly into your cleavage as he feels your thighs tremble around his. Your pussy contracts, your clit pulses and in a hot wave, your orgasm releases and with a heavy sigh, your upper body tips forward.

He laughs softly, his face between your breasts. Breathing heavily, you lean back again, your cheeks burning hot.

Hunter has been holding back all this time, but now he's so horny, the night is sure to be long and hot.

Echo

You're just getting out of the shower, jumping at him when you see him in your living room. Echo is back unexpectedly early from his last mission. You are wearing only underwear, your skin is still partially wet. You knock him over with you and he falls butt first onto the sofa, you land on his lap.

"Wow, sweetie, someone's glad to see me," he says with a laugh and returns the hug.

In the next second he realizes that you are almost naked and fresh out of the shower. His cheeks start to warm.

"Okay, we should agree that from now on you will always greet me in such a stormy and half-naked way," he says with a wry little smile.

The fresh air makes your nipples stand up, and he can clearly see them showing under the thin fabric of the lacy bra. Echo licks his lips, for a moment he can't help but just stare at them.

"Echo."

Startled, he tears himself away from the sight and looks up into your face.

"Yeah?"

You bite your lower lip, giving him that one look he already knows from you, the look that tells him you're horny, that you want something specific from him. Echo blinks, already feeling it slowly getting hard behind his codpiece.

He finally smiles.

"Need some lovin' by your favorite soldier?" he asks, slightly insinuating.

Your fingers wander to his thighs and roam over them testingly, his gaze following your hands.

"Oh, I see. A little ride?"

You nod, and your smile widens. Without hesitation, Echo removes the thigh guard of his armor and, wrapping his Scomp Link arm around you, pulls you toward him. Echo tenses the muscle, pushing it toward your pussy, toward the movements of your hips.

"My sweet, dirty girl," he murmurs suggestively.

His free hand probes your bare skin, stroking, kneading, grasping as you rub your pussy faster and harder against his thigh.

"You're all wet, aren't you? Let me feel"

You lift your lap a little, his hand immediately wandered to the fabric of your panties.

"Very wet, very wet indeed," he says with satisfaction, slipping his fingers under the fabric.

You moan his name as his fingers slide through your damp folds, two of his fingertips finding your hole and slipping between the slick walls.

Echo bites his lower lip, your pussy feels great, so soft, tight and warm. His cock is almost painfully hard. He fingers you as his thumb massages your clit, listening to your little sighs. Finally, he hastily pulls his hand back from you to take off his codpiece, palming his cock over the fabric. You reach under the waistband of his blacks and pull them down. His beautiful, hard cock pops out from behind the fabric.

His hand goes between your thighs again, his fingers gathering up as much of your arousal as possible, then he takes his hard length in his hand and starts pumping.

"Such a good wet girl" he says almost as if in a trance, "Sit back down, rub against me darling".

You do as you're told, humping his taut thigh, the yearning, tingling pulse building again, steadily increasing. The more intensely you rub against him, the more intensely he pumps his cock in his hand.

The second you feel your orgasm coming, you grab his face with both hands, entangling him in a heartfelt kiss as your thighs tremble around his. He moans in surprise into your mouth as he cums just a heartbeat later.

You release your lips from each other breathlessly.

Echo whispers, "Gods, I missed you."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@bandnerdlevel43

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

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@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

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@hated-by-me

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@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

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bluerose5 · 1 month

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hmmmm... maybe Zevran/Halsin, whether on its own or as a side to Zev and Astarion

(for @melvinthedepressedrobot )

Can I just say how much I loved writing this? 💙

"I've been thinking about what you said."

Halsin didn't even so much as flinch when Zevran snuck up behind him, staring up at the moon as the latter took a seat at his side on the ground. He spared Zevran a questioning glance, followed by a soft smile.

His chest warmed at his very sight of him.

"I think you might need to be more specific than that," Halsin told him. "We have spoken about a lot these past few days."

An understatement, if there ever was one.

Zevran took a deep breath, bracing himself.

"You mentioned before that you wanted more."

Halsin instantly replied, "I still do."

Zevran’s heart fluttered at that, but he was quick to avert his eyes, ducking his head with a furrowed brow.

"Which is to be expected," Zevran joked, but he gave up on that approach as soon as his attempt at humor fell flat. "I guess that my uncertainty lies in the fact that I—" Feeling a lump form in the back of his throat, Zevran swallowed past it, his stomach twisting into knots while he forced the words out. His voice lowered into a whisper. "I do not believe that I can be what you want me to be."

Halsin watched him closely, but Zevran was careful not to meet his eyes. It felt as if he was sporting a fresh wound, left raw and open and vulnerable before him.

"What do you mean by that?" Halsin asked, gentle, patient.

Too good for this world.

"Look," Zevran sighed, combing his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I am what I am, and what I am is a killer. A liar. A thief. I enjoy what I do. I am no hero, I will not pretend to be, and I will not change who I am for the sake of another. I have lived my life far too long as a tool, honed into a weapon for others to use as they saw fit. I cannot— will not become anyone or anything else besides what I want to be."

A fact that Astarion knew and related to all too well.

It was part of the reason why he and Zevran worked so well together, but Halsin was another matter entirely.

A second of silence passed between them before Zevran felt a hand cup his cheek.

He couldn't help it. He leaned into Halsin's palm, and he met his eyes.

Halsin's thumb brushed along the outline of his cheek.

Eventually, he asked, "Why would I dare hold a paintbrush to what is already a masterpiece?"

Zevran choked on a mix between a laugh and a sob, staring at him with a wobbly smile.

He didn't even realize a tear had fallen until he felt Halsin's thumb smear it across his skin.

"Why would I seek to change the one who makes my heart stir with so much joy?" Halsin breathed. "I know perfectly well what you are capable of, but I would not dare try to alter your nature. You said it yourself. You are who you are, and I very much like who that person is."

"Halsin—"

"You care so much for those around you, for the world you live in," he continued without skipping a beat, "yet you give yourself so little credit. You have achieved so much already. I am in awe of you."

Zevran stared at him, unable to comprehend how he got so lucky.

"You spoke with Astarion." Not a question, but a statement.

"I did," Halsin said, shifting closer to him. "Both as a necessity and as a show of openness and honesty. I told him of my feelings for you, of what I wanted, and I answered any questions he had to the best of my abilities. He seemed to appreciate that, I think." He paused, considering. "And you? Did you speak with him?"

"I did," Zevran answered. "He needed some reassurance."

Halsin nodded in understanding.

"As to be expected."

"But he was open to what you suggested." Which was mind-boggling to Zevran. He didn't expect to care for another in such a way when he ended up in Faerûn. He didn't expect to find a reason to stay. To be able to share in that experience with not just one but two others again? There were no words to describe how he felt in that moment. "You know, the last time I was involved in such an arrangement, it ended only in tragedy. Most of it inflicted by my own hand, no less."

Taliesen. Rinna...

There came a vulnerability to being with another, opening up all sorts of doors to potential heartbreak.

"That need not be our fate," Halsin assured him.

Zevran decided to take a chance.

He decided that Halsin and Astarion were worth the risk.

"Then, kiss me."

"Gladly."

And when their lips finally met, Halsin took his breath away.

#dragon age #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dao #astarion #astarion ancunin #halsin #zevran #zevran arainai #astarion x zevran x halsin #bluerose writes #crossover

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tummyhurtslol · 1 year

Text

first post! hope this reaches some people who are interested:)

about a week ago i drank some prune juice, and it was quite the experience lol. i know prune juice is known to rile up your stomach, so i really wanted to try it hehe

and omg it did, my stomach was a giant bloated gurgling mess for the whole night and even into the morning. i really loved it though, my stomach was really turning me on and i wished someone was there with me😩

now i did cut a lot of clips in here because i know not everyone is into the scat/diarrhea, maybe in the future though if enough people want it i can do it! i also am not showing my tummy for privacy reasons, but i may sell or even trade some! i do have all of the clips from night this with my stomach in them, so if you want these in specific or something different just message me!

————————————————————————

i was at work for 10 hours and didn’t eat anything at all. i was hungry, but i saw the prune juice i’d bought for a special occasion and i thought this was the perfect opportunity to get the full effect. i told myself i would drink half, but i pussied out after about 2 cups bc it was really really gross😭. (maybe it’s a good thing i did bc who knows how it could have gone if i did half lol)

and quite literally only about 30 minutes after drinking i started to feel something going on in my tummy. it just kinda felt like gas building up, not a whole lot of gurgling but definitely pressure.

then at the hour mark is when i knew it was working, my stomach started to gurgle like crazy and it felt like water was rushing through my intestines, it was kinda crazy. my belly was starting to bloat like a balloon, it was getting really big which at the time was surprising to me because the prune juice was the only thing in there lol. it wasn’t really uncomfortable yet, just super active lol

but then as time starts to pass it gets more and more uncomfortable, the bloating was a lot and making my stomach literally HUGE. it started to cramp up a lot, and about another hour later i knew that all that built up gas/diarrhea wanted out. i tried to hold it for a little while, but it was pushing really hard and i could only clench for so long 😭

the first bathroom trip was surprisingly the easiest, once the first round came out i did feel a lot of relief, but i knew it wasn’t over. i went a couple more times and then went to lay back down thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. but about 10 minutes later i was proven very very wrong lol

I was just laying in my bed when literally my entire abdomen cramped up and sent a very deep gurgle that told me i had to go right then. i barely even grabbed my phone in time to record and unfortunately didn’t get any of the gurgles before i went the first time because it was just so urgent and sudden lmaoo, and after that it was more so a lot of diarrhea and not a lot of gurgles so the videos for that trip weren’t the best sorry lol

after that second trip though i thought i might’ve gotten most of the diarrhea out maybe just some gas left, but again was proven very wrong lol. i again was laying down when i got another cramp that felt very urgent, so ran back to the bathroom and my stomach definitely let me have it this time. this one was probably the worst, the cramps were so intense and my stomach just felt like it was getting squeezed until everything came out 😭 i stayed there for a while, because i didn’t wanna have to keep running back and forth. i spent about 45 minutes sitting there and i spent a lot of it just clenched at my stomach because it was quite painful, but i still really enjoyed it 😅 but you could definitely hear some of those cramps in the video, they were crazy lol

then i was finally able to relax for about 45 minutes, until i felt another deep and urgent gurgle. i was surprised i still had anything left in me😅 but this time it was a bit less painful, and i was really really enjoying the gurgles. there was one point during this one where i pushed right on my lower belly and it created a huge gurgle and a push of diarrhea, it felt soooooo good😍 but the diarrhea didn’t last long and it was about 2am at this point so i was really tired, and my stomach stopped hurting enough for me to fall asleep.

i did wake up once around 5am to go to the bathroom again, but since i was woken up by it i didn’t grab my phone sorry:( it was really kinda hot though how i immediately woke up to this giant gurgle from my stomach and i just knew i had to go lol, i wish i had it recorded😅 but then i fell back asleep and woke up in the morning to just a very gassy tummy, but no more diarrhea. i felt the effects all day though, i was super gassy and my stomach definitely still felt a little heavy and bloated. i didn’t feel completely back to normal until the day after that lol, so it definitely sent my stomach for a ride.

overall though, it was such a fun experience and i really wanna do it again. the gurgles from this were like no other and i could feel them throughout my entire abdomen, it was so hot😍 i don’t really mind the pain that much, i especially like it if someone is there to help ease the pain:) but yes, i will probably be doing this again hopefully soon, because i loved this experience and i hope you guys love it too!

#bloated stomach #stomach gurgles #stomach rumbling #diarrhea #belly gurgles #belly noises #tummy ache #tummy rumbling #belly pain #gurgling belly #stomach sounds #stomachache

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c-nstellati-ns · 2 years

Note

Can I request Kars with a dom hamon user bf and implementing hamon play in the bedroom pls

I LOVE TO LOVE YOU, BABY… — short

author’s note — sorry the pillar men are literally my biggest carnal need and i happened to be in a mood word count — 1.2k featuring — kars, with mentions of esidisi cw - NSFW CONTENT, masochism, first time hamon play, existing dom/sub relationship, alluding to a threesome during the fic, kars being a pain slut

MDNI. 18+ CONTENT BELOW, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

It was such a sight— to see him so vulnerable.

Kars’ eyes furrowed as he stares up at you, a light pale pink dusted over his cheeks as he leans his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. You could tell he was embarrassed, it’s the first time he’s engaged in an activity like this. You cup his face and gently rub a thumb over his cheekbone, marvelling at how soft and completely unblemished it was.

“You doing okay, gorgeous?” You mutter out, leaning in to kiss his neck, lightly biting down onto the soft flesh and sucking a light mark onto it. He shudders underneath you and slowly nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you kiss against it. His lips fall a bit and there’s a low huff, “Of course, I am. I trust you, dearest. To have you in my bed alone is a blessing in itself.” He says, his deep voice steady despite how his body shivers slightly each time you trace your fingers over the deep purple silken ropes that wrapped around his body. You had specifically chosen this colour because you enjoyed how it matched his beautiful hair. Kars found it so silly, but secretly enjoyed all the little details you had put in this particular session. Not only because of how expensive it was, but because it had been partially made from Satiporoja beetle yarn, conducting your hamon better than any other sort of rope could. It truly made him sigh with excitement at the thought.

Hamon play had been something you two have discussed for a while now, Kars having the thought himself and slipping it into your conversations in private as smooth as a giant ancient man-eating Aztec vampire can. At first, you were hesitant, of course— not for your safety, but Kars’. This was quite dangerous if not properly done, and you both knew that. But after some convincing, you fell for his words and demands. So here you both were, Kars naked and all nicely tied up in the ropes with you straddling his waist, touching every part of him that you could. You could tell that he was getting impatient so you leaned in and pressed a deep kiss to his lips, smudging the lipstick and makeup that he had insisted he wore, just for you.

You passed a hand over his chest, briefly brushing a finger over his nipple, to which he jumped and bit his lower lip. He still wasn’t so used to being so… intimate with a human like this, much less a hamon user. He found it a little embarrassing. You pulled back and smiled down at him, wrapping a finger around one of the ropes, lightly tugging on it… and then letting your power run through them.

Kars’ reaction was immediate— his mouth dropping and back arching a bit as the hamon burned at his skin so good. He let out a deep groan once you finally stopped. His breathing was ragged, and despite how little of the hamon you used, he was already sweating and panting. You leaned back in, lightly slapping his cheek to get his focus back on you again. “C’mon, pretty boy. Don’t give up so easy now, what’s your colour?” You asked softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It took him a moment to refocus, but the sly grin on his face told you all you needed to know.

“Green. V-very much green- haah- A-again.”

Of course, you had to oblige to his demands. You matched his smirk and watched as a deep whine fell past his lips once more, watching the hamon ripple throughout the ropes and over his skin. Watching it bloom a pretty pink was truly a sight to see. He sported quite the hard on, even though you both only got started. You briefly stopped to lean back, watching his chest rise and lower heavily, your head leaned to the side. “To think you were so desperate for this… it’s cute, almost.” Your teasing tone only made him groan, but you continued anyways. “Imagine Esidisi walking in on us like this. How do you think he’d react, hm?” Kars couldn’t help but close his eyes and imagine it. Both his lovers here to ravage him completely… it only made him harder.

“Do you think he’d enjoy seeing you like this? He and I share a similar love for sadism, I think he would… so would you, right?” You leaned back and wrapped a hand around his cock, teasingly passing a thumb over his tip, watching as it starts leaking pre-cum all over your fingers. Kars bites his lower lip as you laugh, feeling his cock throb in your hand, “You’re so spoiled. You know how much we’d give you. That’s why we’re doing this in the first place, right?” You watched as Kars let out a wanton cry when you used your hamon against the ropes again, his thighs shaking. You simultaneously jerked him off— slowly. It was torturous to him, but he loved every moment of it.

“Look at you, beautiful creature.” You hummed happily as you lazily got him off. His jaw was slack and all those pretty little cries escaped from his lips, you ate it all up. You could tell he was already so close, the way his body shook and how he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood… for such an intimidating man, he could be so… enticing. You licked your lips and sat up properly, briefly stopping your hamon from flowing through the ropes to stare down at him.

“You gonna cum?”

You cooed softly in his ear, biting the pointed outer lobe and kissing his temple right after. He was drooling, almost unable to control his body. It was delicious. He could only bring himself to nod very briefly before you wrapped your hand around his cock again, this time a lot tighter than he could have even begged for. Watching Kars’ face twist in ecstasy, so full of pure pleasure and want from you, it was beautiful. His scarlet eyes were filled with unshed tears that you plan on kissing away soon, because good gods, you wanted to eat him up. You leaned in close, his breathy pants and groans right next to your ear. You enjoyed those quite a bit.

You could feel his thighs shake around your waist as brushed your fingers over the silk ropes, the spark of hamon filling the air you both. “O-oh, fuck- again- a-again, hngh— again!” Kars could be so demanding. But you kissed him despite that and indulged in his wants. Besides, you couldn’t get over the fact that you got such a normally elegant and poised man in such a state. You were so hard in your pants but could only focus on getting him off first. He was always your first priority, always.

“Haah- close! S-so so close- please dearest…” Hearing him beg was always the highlight of your nights.

“Go on, darling… cum for me.” You purred, kissing at his neck as you felt him tense underneath you, his cock throbbing in your hand before shooting ropes all over his own stomach and chest. You made sure to milk every drop, effectively overstimulating him completely. There was another laugh from you, Kars shuddering underneath you at the sound. He was riding his high and quite lightheaded, but that sound never meant something good. And well… he was right.

“You did so good, my love… Care to indulge in my own little fantasies until Esi comes home and joins the fun, hm?”

Needless to say, Kars had quite the busy night. Who knew that a human like you could be so virile?

NOW PLAYING — love to love you baby, donna summer…

#achilles' thirsts ⭐#top male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #sub jjba #jjba smut #top reader #sub character #male reader #x male reader #dom reader #kars jjba #kars

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ladylooch · 5 months

Text

The Spiral [Lio Meier] - Part 1

A/N: I have been working on this for weeks. But this past weekend this was the only WIP I worked on. I ate, slept and drank Lio Meier’s downfall. It dominated every waking hour. But I am really proud of this one. Whew! I was in the writing trenches bbys! But here it is, in all its glory. The time when everything in Lio’s life blows up.

I have some very specific warnings below. This is a deep one, layered, and may be difficult to read for some. Please consume your content carefully 😘

Warnings: Childhood trauma (mental/psychological), a lot of mentions and insinuations of abortion, VERY angsty, drinking/ drunk Lio.

Word Count:4.1k

Crackles and pops of the bonfire embers are highlighted by the inky Swiss night surrounding the Meier and Hischier families on a cool summer evening.

“Maybe like thirty seconds left.” Timo murmurs to Lio as he turns over the marshmallow hanging from the fire stick.

“LuLu and I are going to eat these in the tree house.” Lio announces, leaning back into his dad’s chest.

“Okay.” Timo chuckles, squeezing his son tight to him for a hug. “What do you think now? Is it done?”

“It’s gonna fall.”

“Yeah, we should pull it out.” Timo agrees. “Can you get the graham crackers and chocolate?” Lio does. Together, they work the marshmallow off onto the awaiting ingredients. Lio loves summer in Switzerland. He eats his whole body weight in s’mores with Swiss chocolate. His mama is right. American chocolate is not the same.

“No Reeses cups today?” Timo asks.

“No.” Lio says, pressing the crackers together, careful not to break them.

“Mmm, who are you? Mama usually can’t keep Reeses stocked for you.” Timo chuckles.

“That’s only in Jersey.” Lio says, bringing the s’more up to his lips. He bites into the gooey and delectable treat. He grins at his dad, having no idea his face is already covered in chocolate. “Best one yet.”

“Good. Enjoy, buddy. Livy, come here and daddy will make a s’more with you.” Lio books it off to the back corner of their spacious yard in Switzerland, where his best friend and cousin, Lucie Hischier, awaits for him.

“You take too long.” Lucie quips, annoyed.

“Your marshmallow is burned to a crisp.” Lio scoffs in response

“I like it!” She grins holding up her sticky fingers. She already ate one of the two she made. They both giggle as Lio sits down next to her. They eat in content silence. From their spot in the tree house, they can see down to their whole family mingling together around the warm fire. Mack and Livy are with Timo making s’mores the long way like Lio did. “When we grow up, are we gonna live by each other?” Lucie wonders.

“Yeah, LuLu. Maybe by then you’ll have patience.” Lucie may be Uncle Nico’s daughter, but she is nothing like him. Lio thinks if Lucie played hockey, she would spend most of her time in the penalty box.

“I have patience.” She squints. “Maybe we will live here full time.” If Lio’s mama had it her way, they already would. Lio shrugs. He likes both places they live, but it would be nice to see their grandparents more. “I wanna grow up and have lots of babies after I get married.”

“Yeah. Like our parents.”

“Well, like my parents” Lucie shrugs. Lio licks the bit of marshmallow clinging to his fingers.

“My parents are married?”

“Yeah, but your parents had you before they got married…” Lucie tilts her head at him.

“Well that’s cause they couldn’t wait to get married to have me.” Lio says matter of fact. “They wanted me first cause they didn’t want to have a baby during the season.”

Lucie anxiously bites her lip, glancing again at where their parents are sitting by the bonfire.

“That’s not what I heard.” Little Lucie doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. So she says “I heard my dad tell my mom that Auntie Em only moved to Jersey because of you. That she didn’t want to leave her life in Switzerland and he isn’t sure they would have ever gotten married or been together without you.”

Lio stares blankly back at Lucie. His little blue eyes lift beyond his smaller cousin where she munches innocently away on her s’more. His eyes crawl up the wood boards to where they had carved their initials inside on the first day they were allowed up here. From there, he moves to his parents laughing together at the bonfire. His mom is holding Livy’s s’more as she takes cautions bites. They never told him that. Lucie must be wrong.

“No, I don’t think that is what happened. You heard wrong.” Lio tries. His voice sounds small and far away to him because his heartbeat is pounding so hard through his head.

“I guess Uncle Timo had told daddy he didn’t want any kids.” Lucie didn’t hear her dad say the full sentence- Uncle Timo didn’t want kids without Emma. So her innocent repeat paints a different picture. “Guess he had to change his mind.”

Lio Meier is only 10 years old, but the whole world shifts under him from that moment forward.

- - -

A decade and a half later, Lio Meier slumps low on the couch in his parent’s living room in Switzerland. His right hand rubs at the splitting headache in the center of his forehead, while his left holds a glass of expensive whiskey from his dad’s collection. If his parents are going to sit him down for an intervention, he is not doing it sober. He brings the glass to his lips, sucking down a big gulp as his mom and dad walk into the room. They’re already on their good cop, bad cop shit. Lio sniffs, rolling his eyes as they sit down in front of him.

Emma purses her lips at her son’s obvious contempt at being called home. But what she is hearing around town is concerning. Rumors swirl in their little mountain village that he has… followed in the family footsteps? Maybe? That some nice, Swiss girl he went to school with has wound up pregnant after a night with him. Apparently, when the girl told Lio, he tossed a few bills of cash at her and told her to take care of it. Emma isn’t quite sure how things came to be this way with Lio. She hopes to find out in this conversation.

Timo sits next to his wife, fingers clasped together, silent as he stares at his son. Lio is unrecognizable today, really since he returned home from his last season. Him and Emma knew something happened in Jersey. Lio didn’t elaborate and Lucie was vague to Emma when she asked. The other concern is this being a reaction to his lack of success so far in his professional career. A Stanley Cup seems lightyears away for the franchise again.

“We just gonna stare at each other all day?” Lio turns his hands up in annoyance at them.

“Lio.” Timo warns.

“What? You two called me here and now you’re holding me hostage in silence.”

“Honestly, I’m trying to find the right words to say to you.” Emma begins, shaking her head. “I’m hearing things.” She finally settles on. “And I’d like to hear from you if they are true.”

“Depends on what you heard.” Lio reaches for the whiskey glass again. Timo’s laser blue eyes watch him gulp down the brown liquid.

“Why don’t you put that back down.” Lio pauses with the glass on his lips. His dad stares him down. Timo wasn’t asking; he was telling. Lio puts the glass back on the coaster with a loud ping.

“I heard… someone in this town may be pregnant with your baby.”

“Maybe she was. I don’t know.” Lio waves it off with a flick of his fingers. He puts those same fingers back on his splitting headache.

“What do you mean maybe and I don’t know?” Timo asks. “Those seem like things you should be pretty fucking sure about.”

“Her and I talked a few days ago. I gave her money to take care of it. It’s handled. You aren’t grandparents.” Emma’s spine snaps to attention.

“What?”

“I told her-“

“I heard what you said.” Emma seethes, getting visibly angry. “So your approach was to tell her to take care of it? Instead of taking ownership of your choices?”

“Look, I’m not having a kid. I know you two made the choice to ruin your lives by having me, but I’m not following in your idiotic footsteps.”

“Excuse me?” Timo scoffs at his son incredulously. “You’re going to judge our choices right now?” He doesn’t see the way his wife is retreating in on herself. It has been over 15 years since Emma last felt judged about getting pregnant with Lio. But her son is now facing a similar situation and his contempt towards her stings. Small tears fill her brown eyes as she watches Lio and Timo jaw back and forth. Timo gets louder. Lio sits up in the chair. Soon, they’re both standing. This is not how she saw this conversation going.

“We are so disappointed in you right now.” Timo shakes his head, exhaling heavily. His cheeks are tight, lips pursed angrily. Emma stands, dashing between the men, one hand on each of their chests.

“Disappointed?” Lio spits, lip curling in disgust. “She was trying to ruin my life by getting pregnant. All she wanted was my money and to take away the best years of my career like mom did to you, by turning you into the family man you didn’t want to be. I had to protect myself and I would do it again in an instant.”

Shock stills the living room. Timo forgets his son completely. His hands go to Emma, wincing as she retreats from his touch.

“I never said that.” Timo says immediately to his wife. “Those are his words, not mine, baby.” Timo turns, snarling back at Lio. “Where do you get off?”

“Me!? You made a mistake having me!” Lio screams at his dad. “It’s why you lied to me about it for so long! So I fixed that for us by not doing it all over again!” Angry tears wreak havoc in Lio’s blue eyes. Timo’s face collapses into a twisted frown at the obvious, intense pain on his son’s face.

“Lee…” Timo trails off.

“I know all about it. I’ve known since I was ten years old that you two didn’t actually want me. You didn’t plan for me or pray for me or wish for me. I was a mistake.” Every moment Timo and Emma uttered their little white lie runs through each of their minds. They never wanted Lio to feel unwanted. They didn’t think the fudging of the truth was hurtful or would cause any damage. But they also didn’t realize their son had known the truth since he was ten years old. Each lie for the last 15 years has chipped away at Lio. Now, being in the same circumstances as his parents, he has reached his boiling point in their living room.

“No. Lio-” Emma starts, voice shuddering with her emotions.

“You shouldn’t of had me.” Lio looks directly at Emma. “You should have pulled the plug when you had a chance and lived your life here the way you wanted to. You ruined everyone’s lives. You choose to have me and dad felt obligated to take care of us.”

“You don’t get to speak down to me about choices that gave you life because your recklessness is trying to make you accountable.” Emma’s previously silent rage explodes through the room as she steps around Timo. “Get out of my house.” She jabs her pointer finger into Lio’s sternum.

“Fuck you guys.” Lio spits out at them.

Timo leans forward to go after their son for his disgusting display of disrespect. But Emma’s shocked whimper stops any more forward progress. The house shakes at the timber of Lio slamming door.

“We wanted him.” Emma whispers to Timo, big tears raining down from her brown eyes. “We never lied about that. He thinks…” She puts her hand over her mouth and begins to sob.

Timo doesn’t say it, but he knows what Emma would say if she could speak.

Lio believes his parents love him out of obligation.

And he has for the last 15 years.

- - -

After the fall out with his parents, Lio heads into town and grabs a post-shift beer with Liv, who obviously has not heard from their parents about what is up. Quickly, Liv leaves to head back to her and Luca’s place for an at-home date night.

“We are going to paint headshots of each other.” Liv giggles, knowing Luca is a shit painter. She can’t wait to see how wonderfully bad it is. Lio would rather burn his eyebrows off than do dopey shit like that with a girl.

Lio sticks around town, ignoring the looks and whispers that follow him. He’s had people talking about him in some way or another his whole life. He not going to start giving a shit about it now.

One beer turns into 6, which turns into 3 shots of whiskey too, until he is drunk enough to relax from the confrontation with his parents. He wanders his way back towards home, stopping at Lucie and Connor’s lake house to check in on his favorite little girl. Stella Wood sleeps on her dad’s chest in the living room where he is continuing to watch mindless, toddler TV.

“The show getting good?” Lio quips.

“Fuck no. But the remote is tucked into the cushion and I can’t get it without waking her up. She’s been a Tasmanian Devil today.” Lucie snorts in the kitchen where she is wiping the stone counter off. “And if I wake her up, hot stuff in the kitchen is going to be very unhappy with me.”

“You were the one who gave her cotton candy.” Lucie calls.

“Yeah, that was a bad idea. You were right, baby.” Connor looks at Lio. “Fun though.” Lio chuckles, collapsing into the big reclining chair across from them.

“You want a beer?” Lucie asks, walking in with three beer bottles.

“Yeah.” Lio sighs, happy to have the coldness in his grip. He pops the top, taking two big glugs. Lucie goes to sit between Connor’s thighs curling her legs up to her chest as she takes a sip of beer.

“So… what’s new?” Lucie asks with insinuation. Lio looks away from where he is stroking his thumb over the raised words of his bottle. Their eyes connect and he knows Lucie has heard the same rumors his parents have. Probably from her parents.

“Same shit, different day.” Lio takes another pull from the bottle. Lucie, ever the mom now, holds her calm presence. “Had a little fun last month that caught up with me.” He widens his eyes, thinking again of the conversation with Isabella a few days ago. His stomach had dropped from his body and he choked on his beer. He thought they were going to have a drink and head back to his place. Not have a bombshell explode his whole life in three words.

“What are you going to do?” Lucie asks.

“Nothing. She did something about it.”

“Oh.” Lucie takes another sip of her beer. A slight crinkle appears in her forehead.

“Yeah and apparently now I’m not welcome at my parents’ house.”

“Really?” Connor asks as he smooths over Stella’s wild, brown curls.

“Yeah… things got a little heated today and they didn’t like what I had to say. Apparently holding a mirror up is not appreciated in this family.” Lio takes another sip. “Like, I get they made whatever decision they did with me, but I didn’t ask to be born, and they shouldn’t get pissed at me for not wanting to continue in their bastard child tradition.” Lucie flinches at the harshness of his comment. She’s never liked that word, especially not now after having their child before her and Connor were married.

“What mirror?” Lucie inquires.

“Just that my dad didn’t want kids and was forced into it when my mom got pregnant with me. Or that my mom wanted to stay in Switzerland and couldn’t because of her choice to have me. My dad’s career was never the same after I was born, so that decision cost them a lot career and money wise. This was a mistake I could fix so I did. They could be more grateful for preventing a rinse and repeat.”

The room is silent for a moment as Lio’s words fall between all of them. The TV is the only disruption. Lio tilts his beer bottle back, hoping the liquid will wash down the awkward air in the room.

“You are a fucking moron. Your parents are doing really well and your family is great, Lee. Happy and healthy.” Connor shakes his head. Lio’s out-there way of thinking about being domestic in any situation is once again rearing it’s ugly head. No wonder he lost Savannah. She’s better off without this version of Lio anyway.

“LuLu gets it.” Lio motions to his cousin.

“No, Lee…. I don’t think I do.” Lucie straightens. “Because from what you’re telling me, I’ve also ruined an NHL player’s life, and stole his best years from him, by getting pregnant with his baby for the money.”

“Luc.” Lio chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s not like you were playing baby roulette with just anyone. Connor was already a millionaire.” Lucie instantly looks taken aback, which confuses Lio because the three of them have definitely joked about this before.

“Oh, so that’s what all the girls in your life have in common? We’re all just gold-digging whores? The girl you knocked up who you told to take care of it? And your mama who wrecked your dad’s life by choosing to have you? And me who found the most expensive rookie in the league to knock me up?” Technically Lio was that year, but that is neither here nor there. Lio is frustrated by the way Lucie is stuffing words into his mouth.

“At least the one that stuck wasn’t Marco’s. But I’m sure you would of taken care of that one. Not enough commas in his bank account.”

“Alright. Time out.” Connor shakes his head, recognizing how drunk Lio is. Things are about to turn ugly and he doesn’t want to have to time his catch of Lucie’s hand when it inevitably winds up to slap her cousin.

“That is so fucked up, Lio.” Lucie snaps, putting her beer down on the end table with a slam.

“No what is fucked up is that you didn’t take my advice after you two broke up.” He gestures between Lucie and Connor.

“Oh my god.” Lucie gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. The room goes still as tears fill her big brown eyes. She winces, like she is realizing something she never has before. “When I came to stay with you, you told me you would take care of everything. That if Connor and I couldn’t work it out, you and I would figure it out. All this time, I thought that meant you would take care of us. We would be our own family….” Her eyebrows furrow. “But you hoped I wouldn’t pick this at all.”

“Wait, what?” Connor asks, turning to his wife. He looks across the room at Lio who’s eyes are widening.

Of course Connor knows it was Lucie’s choice, always her choice. It was early in her pregnancy when the infamous hit happened. Lucie could have… made a different choice. Connor thinks about how safe it felt for her to be with Lio during that time. Then a cold shiver rolls down his spine, wondering if Lio was really in Lucie’s ear telling her not to go through with it. Did he give her money? Offer to drive her to the clinic? Promise to never tell Connor what happened? It was a miscarriage, Con. I’m so sorry. Connor’s blue eyes darken with storm clouds as his daughter stirs slightly against his chest. What lengths would Lio have gone to cover up their mistake like he is trying to do with his right now?

“Did you tell Lucie to get rid of our daughter?” Connor’s voice is tight as he asks the words he has to. Lio flinches.

“What?”

“Did you tell Lucie to not have Stell?” Connor repeats louder, more firm. Lucie glances nervously between the two men. Connor laughs in disbelief at Lio’s panicked face.

“I told Lucie I would support whatever choice she wanted to make… that she didn’t have to do this if she didn’t want to. She was really scared.” Lio points to Lucie generally like she isn’t in the room. She is hearing his words from a completely different perspective than three years ago. “I know that sounds bad now because Stell is here and we love her, but at the time, Lucie needed to hear that she had options.”

“Yeah and the option you proposed to her was to end her pregnancy.”

“It was mentioned, yes. But there was also adoption or raising Stell alone or… this. What you two have now.”

“Alone!?” Connor stutters out. “So, what if she wanted to raise Stell without me?”

“As I said, I was supportive of whatever Lucie wanted to do.” Connor inhales sharply.

“You need to leave, Lio.” Connor stands, passing their whole world over to his wife on the couch. He smooths Stella’s hair down as she cuddles into Lucie’s shoulder. Connor feels his knees almost give out in pain. What would life be like without Stell? Without her soft kisses and baby giggles and huge hugs when he comes home from the road. How could Lio have supported a life for Stell without Connor? Or a life without her ever existing to begin with?

“I just wanted to support her! Why is that bad?” Lio’s heart is in his throat now, as Connor slowly steps forward.

“What would be good about Lucie wanting to raise Stella without me? You were going to be daddy to my kid? You are right about one thing tonight, you’d be a shit fucking dad, Lio.”

“I…” Lio never thought about any of these scenarios in depth. He really just wanted to show up for Lucie. And Lucie chose Connor so quickly it didn’t seem to matter.

“Would you have told me?”

“W-what?” Lio puts his beer down, moving to sit up straighter. He swallows nervously.

“Would you, my best friend, have told me I had a daughter?” Lio is silent. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he would have. Lucie was so scared and had held so tightly to his shirt those two weeks she had lived with him. He would have protected her, but that doesn’t feel like the right answer to reiterate now. Lio looks at Lucie, needing her to step in and say something. Her eyes are lined with betrayed tears, looking at him like she isn’t sure who he even is. Why have people been looking at him like this lately? What the fuck is going on?

“Luc…?”

“You’re a fucking coward, Lio. Anyone who thinks our daughter shouldn’t be here doesn’t get the privilege of being in our lives. Get out. You are no longer welcome here.” Lio tries to speak.

“Get. The fuck. Out!” Connor bellows, hands tightened into fists at his sides. Stell startles. She wakes up, immediately sensing the tension in the room and begins to cry. Connor turns away from Lio, rushing back to his wife and daughter.

“It’s okay, Stell. You’re okay. Mommy and daddy are here.” Connor gathers her back from Lucie. He turns back to Lio. “I’m not fucking asking you again.”

Lio stands, leaving his half full beer bottle. He rips the front door open and leaves the second home he’s been kicked out that day.

- - -

The next morning, a ping wakes Lio. He wants it all to be a bad dream, but the raw realness of what happened yesterday mars his body with physical aches and pains, including a hell of a hangover. He groans as he grabs his phone, pulling it to his face. He squints, seeing a new text awaiting him from an unsaved number.

Hi Lio, It’s Isabella. I went to the clinic and they told me I’m not pregnant. It was a false positive. Guess we dodged a bullet.

Lio stares at the text, watching his cursor blink in anticipation of him responding. He doesn’t.

Dodged a bullet? Then why does it feel like he is still bleeding out.

Continue reading: Part 2

#Lio & Lucie

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yuriwritestwst · 2 years

Text

Asking someone in for a drink is boring, basic, and generic. Asking someone to help you figure out a cast iron pan is fun, attractive, and incredibly hot to Trey, your barista that you want to kiss very much.

Notes: Trey Clover x GN!reader, café!AU, barista Trey, office worker reader, mutual pining, Cater shows up as a wingman and a menace, i am a trey lover (evidently)

CW: frequent mentions of food, minor and brief mention of blood for when Trey cuts his finger while cooking, making out and suggestive during final part but everything before it is fluff

It’s almost a little tragic when you get off your train stop and see the street where your company building is for the first time, specifically the Starbucks across the street with a line trailing out through the doors and covering up the entrance of the café right next to it. You almost miss it completely had you not been so hesitant on joining the growing crowd. Sure, you have some time before orientation starts, but being late on the first day isn’t something you particularly want either.

So, you take a leap of faith and open the door to Cloverly, an empty coffee and pastry shop overshadowed by the popularity of Starbucks. You’d go in, order a hot coffee, and if it sucked, never come back again. No big deal.

“Welcome in.” Your eyes shift from the menu posted above the counter to a man with green hair unlike anything you’ve seen before, but somehow, it works. He’s been baking, you note, evident by the flour lightly dusting his apron and face with his glasses askew. “What can I get for you today?”

Something about him is so pretty that you almost forget to speak.

“Just one hot coffee, please,” you say after a prolonged pause. He nods and starts to turn around to start brewing.

“Feel free to make yourself at home while you wait,” he calls from over his shoulder. “You’re probably the first person to come here during the morning rush instead of next door.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to skip that line?” He seemed friendly enough, so maybe this wasn’t an awful idea after all. “I mean, I love supporting small local businesses.”

That gets a hearty laugh out of him. Incredible. How do you make that happen again?

“You won’t regret it.” He grabs a paper cup from the side. “I quite literally spent all four years of college coming up with this blend, and all my friends tell me it’s pretty good.”

“If I spent four years of my life studying beans, and all my friends said it was just, ‘Pretty good,’ I’d go insane.” It’s another joke that makes him chuckle. Yes, this is going well.

“Then I hope you come back again with a raving review.” He doesn’t have to, but he opts to walk around the counter to personally hand you your cup. You’re more flattered than you should be, and when you get up to leave, he even opens the door for you, telling you to watch your step because the entrance and the sidewalk aren’t exactly leveled but that’s how he got the lease for cheap.

Again, flattered.

“Well, in any case, even if I hate the coffee, at least I have something to say about the stellar customer service and the owner’s unending business-related wisdom.” Carefully, you make sure not to trip. “Thanks for not-an-awful morning…?”

“Trey,” he answers, patient smile turning into a grin with a raised eyebrow. “If you’re bothering to ask for my name, can I get my hopes up for my first regular customer?”

“Don’t hold your breath.” You laugh it off, but after interacting with this man for only ten minutes, you have a feeling that you’re already in too deep.

And you were right, because after taking a sip of what can only be described as the best coffee you’ve ever had, you find yourself waking up earlier than you need to and standing right in front of Cloverly again the very next morning. You don’t know why nobody’s ditching the Starbucks line, especially when Trey’s house blend is practically magic to your tastebuds compared to whatever the larger chain offered, but when you walk into the much more peaceful café, the calm does relax your morning nerves.

“Told you it was good,” Trey says, leaning on the cash register with a knowing look. It was almost as if he was expecting you to come back.

“Good morning to you, too.” You set your bag and jacket down at a seat in front of the counter. Trey looks delighted.

“And you’re dining in today?” he asks, grabbing a clean white mug. “What did I do to deserve such a fine morning?”

“I have some time today,” you respond casually as if you didn’t set your alarm an hour earlier the night before. “Can I get another coffee?”

“Anything else?” he asks over the coffee grinder. “No breakfast or anything?”

You pause and think. Two days of work definitely didn’t establish the income for both a coffee and food every morning. Not yet at least.

“Just a coffee, please,” you clarify, hoping it didn’t come off as too rude. He doesn’t seem to mind, humming in affirmation.

“So, are you new in town?” he asks once he’s served you your drink and is busying himself with setting up today’s pastry display. You eye at the croissants, sandwiches, and cakes behind the glass display. More tempting than you’d like, just like the person who made them.

“I just moved in a couple of weeks ago for a new job,” you say between slow sips. “Across the street, actually.”

“Pretty impressive,” he responds with a whistle. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to handle cooperate life. I used to go to an all-boys private school and couldn’t stand being stuck in a tie all day.”

“Well it’s only my second day, so who knows?” you joke. “Maybe I’ll end up hating corporate too and move back home.”

“Then I hope they treat you well over there.” You hear the sound of paper and the display case closing. A small bag finds its way next to your mug of coffee. “Would hate to lose my only regular.”

“And is this a bribe to keep said regular?” you ask, failing to contain the smile that spreads across your face. “Or are you trying to milk as much money out of me before I leave now that I’ve presented the possibility of jumping ship?”

“Yes?” he tries. Funny. “No, I’m just kidding. These are on the house. Consider yourself a guinea pig for my newest creations?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a guinea pig,” you say sarcastically. “But thanks. Really. I’ll make sure to consider it when I inevitably write a flaming review on Yelp about you.”

“Make sure to be detailed as possible.” Again, he walks around the counter to open the door for you, almost as if he’s been doing this for you for ages. “You know how popular this place is. If your review is a little too boring, I might not see it.”

And like you’ve known him for more than two days, you laugh, bid your farewell, and carefully step out so that you don’t trip and fall.

“Keep an eye out for one that starts with, ‘If I could give this place 0 stars, I would.’ I’ll be extra dramatic about it, just for you.”

And true to your word, during your lunch break, you sit out in the lobby of the office building with leftovers from a meal you almost burnt last night and the little paper bag Trey handed you earlier in the morning. When you open it, you’re greeted with small cookies decorated with what seemed to be like candied flower petals. They’re appropriately sweet, aromatic, and surprisingly light—so good that you do decide to install Yelp on your phone, create a profile, and find Cloverly’s exciting page with no ratings and zero reviews.

‘Pretty good’ becomes the first customer comment that launches Cloverly’s average to 5 stars.

Work, to nobody’s surprise, is tiring, especially as a young adult fresh out of college. You quickly learn that the things professors said were important in lectures aren’t important in the office and that the things professors said weren’t important are important in the office and everywhere else. It’s a delicate, anxiety-inducing balancing game, dealing with superiors that are alarmingly picky and not at all picky at the same time, and you feel like you’ve been thrown in cold water.

You’re satisfied with your team for the most part, however. While the team leader, an experienced employee, really only took questions during work hours to maintain a ‘healthy work-life separation,’ newbies didn’t receive this luxury. More often than not, you found superiors dumping so much dirty work on you during your shift with wildly unrealistic deadlines that you always had to do overtime or take home to finish. Again, the saving grace and perhaps the only thing that kept you sane was the fact that your team had other new hires. That, at least, prevented you and your struggles from feeling too alien.

And then three months after you’re hired, just when you think you’re getting the hang of everything and spending less of your personal time figuring out office agendas,

the building’s power fails and everybody is sent home early, walking back into the office the next day to discover that every and any saved files were gone for good. Amidst the company-wide scramble to redo everything from scratch and meeting unchanging, strict deadlines, administration had made the decision to change over to a new system. Specifically, one that auto-saved to a backup cloud.

“You look like you need an extra shot today,” Trey says, grimacing from the register when you walk in. “What happened to you?”

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter rather dryly. “And not that it’d interest you, but the company decided to do a big switch, so I spent most of last night reading the system manual. I want to be prepared before today’s client meeting, or at least sound like I know what I’m doing.”

“Well, on the bright side, if your building loses power another time, we won’t have you pulling all-nighters to finish who knows what.” That’s the thing you like about Trey. Even if he could care less for corporate life, he never failed to listen to your almost-daily rants, bringing up things that even you might have forgotten about.

(“Excited for your meeting today?” he says offhandedly one time as he pours your coffee.

“What meeting?” you ask, alarmed.

“I thought you said last week that you have a meeting with a supervisor today.” He frowns. “Maybe I have it wrong.”

Except he doesn’t have it wrong, and to this day, still, you thank the stars that Trey is always so reliable. Perfect people do exist.)

“What’s for breakfast today?”

“Any recommendations?” you ask, taking your usual seat. You knew Trey thought about cooking 24/7 and practically dreamt about new recipes in his sleep, and the way his voice lilts when he asks you about your order today is the tell-all for you to know he wants you to test something for him.

“I’ve got a new breakfast sandwich idea.” His grin betrays his previous discretion. “Scrambled eggs, cheddar, spinach, and lightly caramelized apples in a croissant.”

“You know I’d eat anything you make,” you laugh, which was true. You were never a big fan of spinach, but Trey’s never failed to change your mind on your food opinions.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite regular.” He walks back into the kitchen. You can’t see him, but you know from routine what he’s doing from every sound he makes. The opening of the fridge, the setting of the pan on the gas stove, the rapid beating of eggs with his favorite $43 Williams-Sonoma nonstick whisk; you know this café inside and out.

And then a low hiss of pain. That’s a new one.

“Are you okay?” you ask a little loudly from your counter seat, craning your head to see if you could peak at him through the entranceway of the kitchen.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Trey lies between his teeth. You hear the immediate rush of water from the kitchen sink and all but run from your seat, grabbing the first-aid kit from under the cash register. Catching Trey looking rather guilty with his finger under a stream of cold water, you sigh.

“I can’t believe you’d lie to your favorite regular.” Looking around, you find some paper towel. “Is nothing sacred?”

“It’s just a small cut,” he laughs. The blood that rushes from his finger the moment he removes it from the water isn’t very convincing. “It just looks bad, that’s it.”

You take his hand in yours, causing Trey to stiffen at the sudden physical contact. You don’t notice it, or at least you pretend not to and focus instead on applying direct pressure onto the cut with the paper towels you swiped seconds ago.

“Hey, easy there,” he chuckles. “My hands are my entire livelihood. Would hate to have my finger crushed.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty too,” you say, looking intently at his calloused palms and gorgeous fingers. Tens across the board. “Would hate to have these beauties scarred.”

Trey doesn’t say anything and simply watches you reach for the alcohol wipes in the first-aid kit, wincing slightly at the sting. It’s completely quiet, but you aren’t bothered by the silence much to your surprise.

“Yours are also…”

“Did you say something?” you ask, looking directly into his eyes.

“I asked if you do this often.” He tilts his chin toward the band-aid. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“You mean do I go into baristas’ kitchens when they cut themselves and wrap their bandaids for them?” You feel yourself about to laugh again. “No, only for you. Promise.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my favorite regular.”

Trey goes to bed that night, the image of your meticulous fingers on his hand, touching, making contact. He thinks of your laugh and searing gaze and how you smile when you bite into his newest sandwich and how he always gets a whiff of whatever shampoo you use when you walk past him by the door on your way out.

“No, only for you. Promise.”

He turns over in his bed, groaning. Reaching for his phone, he opens up Yelp and types ‘Cloverly’ in the search bar.

“Pretty good.” He reads it over and over again in his head like a mantra.

This is ridiculous.

“Three nights, huh,” Trey muses one morning sitting across from you. The two of you have fallen in the habit of eating breakfast together at one of the tables. “What’ll you be doing?”

“Just meeting with other branches and maybe some collaborating companies,” you muse in between bites of avocado toast. “Not really too sure, but it’s all expenses paid, so who even cares?”

“True,” he laughs. Something unreadable crosses his face.

“Don’t miss me too much,” you joke. “It’ll just be three days of eating breakfast alone. Try not to die.”

“Oh, the horror.” He sets his tea down and clutches his chest. Drama queen. “I can’t believe the worst three days of my life are happening in a week.”

(He hates that he means this.)

“Yeah, who else will listen to you rave about your favorite brand of flour?” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“I keep telling you that you’re opening Pandora’s Box when you ask me what’s special about what you’re eating.” He looks like he might start again, in fact. “Like, really, the muffins today-“

And you let him start, because when Trey gets going on his food talk, he always looks like he’s about to burst at the seams out of sheer excitement. He’s ten times more energetic whenever you comment on how you can taste something new, even when you don’t actually, but to get to see him so animated, so ecstatic—it’s a treat on its own every single time. Sure, you’re not a genius in the kitchen like he is, but he’s even happier when you ask questions. It’s your little way of spoiling him or even thanking him for all the freebies he’s given you in this past year.

“You’re right,” he finally says, as if true realization hits him this time. “What happens if I find a really good brand of oat milk when you’re gone?”

You pause mid-sip, and Trey raises an eyebrow. This is your chance.

“If only there was a way we could keep in contact, I don’t know, digitally?” you sigh in exasperation. He startles when you shoot him a very pointed glance before sighing again.

“Sorry,” he says regaining composure. “I told you, I can’t do corporate, so you won’t be expecting any faxed messages from me.”

“Only you would respond to me like this when I’m very clearly asking for your number, Trey Clover,” you mumble and send him a glare for extra emphasis. A chill goes down his spine, not because he thinks you’re actually mad but because you’re asking him for his number, looking at him rather intensely, and just called him by his full name. Again, ridiculous.

“I’m kidding,” he soothes, clearing his throat. “I hope you don’t mind me being a dry texter.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” You take your phone back after he enters his contact information in as ‘Trey Clover’. This is obvious, because what else is he supposed to write? You’re tempted to edit it to ‘Trey Clover (HOT Barista)’ but choose not to. Instead, you decide to be the first one to send him a text, a picture of the latte he made for you this morning.

“Don’t get mad when I text you in the dead of night about the texture of oat milk and the flavor it adds to lattes,” he warns jokingly. Your phone buzzes when he responds with a thumbs emoji.

“I welcome it, actually. Oh and one more thing.” He looks up from his phone to you with a smile that nearly stops your heart. It’s your turn to cough. “My team manager is picking up from the office next week and driving us to the airport. I want to get them some breakfast, so would you hate it if I pre-ordered six croissants, some homemade jam, and coffee?”

And to think his smile couldn’t get any wider.

“No problem. I’d love that actually.”

Trey wonders if he’s being too clingy and is overstepping boundaries when he decides to text you the night the two of you exchange numbers. He knows it was with the pretense of your business trip the following week, and he’d be seeing you tomorrow anyways. He doesn’t know if you only had meant for this whole texting thing to be for those three specific days, doesn’t want to ask, and doesn’t want to actually know.

“Well, tbh, it’s pretty weird that you guys haven’t done this sooner,” Cater says to him through the phone. When in doubt about phone-related fiascos, always ask Cater. “You’ve been besties for a whole year and haven’t exchanged numbers?”

And that’s Trey’s exact problem because he doesn’t exactly know what you consider him. Maybe not ‘besties,’ but could he even comfortably call the two of you good friends? He sure wants to, but at the end of the day, he figures he’s just some guy who cooks for you.

“Besties is a little…” Trey starts, but Cater cuts him off with a tsk.

“Trey, you dial me up every other day to talk about how this special customer of yours sampled something you made and said it was good.” Even without having ever met you, Cater feels like he, too, has known you for a year. “You don’t do that for other customers. Trey, you realize you have other customers right? Or else there would be no way for you to keep paying your rent. If you had one customer for an entire year, you’d be eating dirt off the street!”

Trey doesn’t say anything to that. It’s hard when Cater, per usual, hits the nail exactly on the head.

“So what I think is that you should send your crush a text about whatever,” Cater continues when he doesn’t get a response. “A person who’s been listening to you go off about bread crumbs is bound to consider you at the very least a friend. And you’re not a bad guy or anything, so go for it.”

And he does, sending you a photo of freshly baked cookies along with a simple message: “Hey, this is Trey, your barista. The chocolate pieces this time are the right size and bitterness.”

“Remember,” he recalls Cater’s words, “the worst response you could get isn’t no response but a, ‘K.’”

And he gets neither of these. What he gets is a notification that you’re trying to FaceTime him, and he’s so surprised (nervous) that he nearly drops his phone out of shock (butterflies).

His fingers are shaking when he accepts the call and becomes evidently aware of how bad he looks but also how good you look. Of course, he’s always known that you look good, but seeing you outside of office attire is new and like a breath of fresh air. And, if he’s being entirely honest with himself, it feels a little bit more intimate.

“I know I said I’d text, but,” you say through the screen. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Ridiculous. “It’s easier to talk like this, and I just know that you, Trey, my barista, have a lot to say about the chocolate or whatever.”

And for almost ten whole seconds, he forgets he initially messaged you to talk about his cookies, because wow. He’d have to bake Cater some meat pies later as a thank you gift.

(“Now these are Cay-Cay certified bangers,” Cater says in between mouthfuls and camera clicks on his phone. “So when are you gonna ask your crush out?”

Trey chokes. Cater also gets this part on camera.)

Trey, regrettably, doesn’t take into account that the days you’re away leads right into the weekend, and when the office is closed on the weekends, you don’t show up. Fair, because why would you?

It bothers him a lot more than he’d like to admit, even after exchanging now regular “Good morning” texts with you. Five days without seeing you in person is a lot, and he knows it’s probably not how he should be feeling about one of his customers. A comforting part of today, though, is the fact that it’s busier than usual.

Sure, a handful of new customers shouldn’t be this big of a deal, but when some of them come in and say off-handedly that one of their coworkers bought them a heavenly croissant before a business trip, he can’t help but smile.

“They’re a regular here,” he says proudly. Proud not so much at the idea of having a regular, but more-so that you, specifically, are said regular. He wonders if he’ll get more in the near future, getting his hopes up when he sees some people post his food onto social media.

And so, even though he’s feeling just a bit lonely, he closes down at 4 PM, cleaning and getting ready to go home. That is, until he hears a knock on the door and snaps his head to see you through the glass. Best day ever.

“Hope I’m not being too much of a bother,” you say sheepishly after witnessing him unlock the door. “I brought you back some jam as a souvenir, but I don’t really know how to store it, and I didn’t want it to go bad, so.”

“Thanks. It looks good.” Normally, he’d be pretty excited about a new ingredient to test out, but he finds himself caring less about the jam and more about seeing you for the first time in what feels like forever. Not even a late night call could beat the real thing.

“How have you been?”

“Good.” And then he remembers. “Thanks for advertising my stuff by the way. I think some of your coworkers came in today to buy more stuff. Surprisingly busy, but I could get used to it.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you laugh, leaning against the wall. “I’m just, you know, supporting my favorite local business.”

“Well, I don’t do well with favors unpaid. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“You could take me on a date,” you blurt out before you can even think straight, and you know for a fact that your face must be beet red, because who just says something like that? When there’s a brutal amount of silence, you feel like running away. “Uh, only if you want, of course. It’s okay if you don’t-“

“No,” Trey says barely above a whisper. His voice is shaking, and you’re not sure if he wants to cry because he’s so horrified at your confession or if he’s just mad at you.

“No worries. Really, Trey. It’s fine.” You spin on your heel, rushing to get away, to go somewhere and maybe hide for the rest of your life. A calloused hand grasps at your wrist, startles, and releases you at the drop of the hat when you turn back to look at him in surprise.

“No, I mean--I’d like that a lot.” He breathes in and out slowly, not knowing what to say next. He just knows he wants to be with you and see you all the time and hopes he can keeping going off of that. “We can go right after I finish cleaning up. If you want to. Anywhere you’d like. Also, my treat.”

“I want to.” You smile at him, and he gives you a goofy grin, because now the both of you are embarrassed. “I really want to.”

(Trey takes you out as promised to his favorite restaurant and explains what he likes about each dish, each ingredient, each flavor as they arrive. It’s fun, watching him nerd out about the things he’s passionate about and then to see him flustered when he catches himself. It’s even more fun when he treats you extra special, pulling your chair out for you, wiping any stray crumbs off your face, paying for the bill, and walking you home even though the train takes him in the complete opposite direction of where he lives.

He’s sweet, and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

Meanwhile, Trey’s heart soars; after all, it’s the first meal he’s sharing with you since your brief absence, but it’s also his First Date with you. He must be special, he thinks, or at least insanely lucky, because when you egg him on to keep talking, laugh at his dumb jokes, and look at him so adoringly despite him being so plain and average and probably not as cool as other people, he’s genuinely the happiest man alive.

You’re so perfect, and he wants to ask to kiss you, but in a natural, not-creepy way.

“Can I kiss you?” he tries when he reaches the door of your apartment, not wanting to leave so soon but also careful not to make you uncomfortable.

“Yes.” Of course.

“Ok,” he says rather dumbly and leans in, hand awkwardly resting itself on your cheek. He stops just millimeters away, so close that you can feel his hot breath. “Really?”

“Trey, please,” you whine, dignity thrown out the window.

His first kiss with you is gentle, soft, and barely there, because he wants to be careful, and he wants you to be sure. It’s quick, and before your eyes can flutter shut, you already seeing him pulling away. Not on your watch.

You grasp him by his shirt collar with desire that’s been building up for the past year, lips crashing together again. It’s rougher than the first for sure, but something just clicks in Trey. He holds you closer, practically pulling you flush against his body, as he bites and tugs at lower lips, eating up the divine sounds you make. Everything about you is insanely addicting, and Trey is burning. Your lips are so soft on his, and he thinks it’s comparable to when yeast has time to ferment in bread dough. He doesn’t say this to you.

When the two of you pull apart, both of you are breathless with slightly swollen lips. You stare at him for a while saying nothing. Not being an experienced kisser, he gets nervous.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, frowning. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, you idiot,” you laugh. That’s a good sign. “I’m wondering what excuse I can use to get you inside.”

Also a fantastic sign.

“I can wait,” he jokes. “I’ll even take notes for future reference.”

“Want to come inside for a drink?” you ask, looking sheepishly to the side and pointing pathetically at your door.

“And I thought I was bad at flirting,” he laughs and is met with a smack to the chest.

“Okay then,” you reply, tone dry. “Want to come in and look at my floorboards?”

“Not really?”

“My TV remote?”

“Pass.”

“My kitchen?” and you can’t believe this is what does it when he grabs you again and asks if he can give you another kiss. Of course, you nod.

“You know I get freaky about kitchenware,” he says against your lips, and you feel the smile that grows.

“I bought a new cast iron pan a week ago.” He kisses you again, hard and rough. “I know I’m supposed to season it, but I don’t know how.” Another kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your head to press him closer into you. “I need your help taking care of my cast iron pan, Trey.” There’s some tongue this time.

“You don’t ever need an excuse to get me to see you,” he says, finally pulling away and admiring the mess he’s turned you into, “but those were some pretty hot things you just said. Lead the way.”)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #trey clover #trey clover x reader #twst trey #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #cafe au #fluff

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selfproclaimedunicorn · 3 months

Note

Iron 4 and Lead 1 for babygirl Aldreda 💕

Babygirl, but in a war criminal way, lmao Thank you for the ask 💕. These ones are sooooo good for her. Also, doing a read more for the second question because it's long

Does your OC struggle to contain their baser emotions, such as lust, aggression, or greed? What helps keep these feelings in check (if anything)?

Aldreda has formally met impulse control, but they didn't get on, lol. A lot of the deeper aspects of her personality & motives are kept super, super deep, but everything more base is very "what you see is what you get." If she wants something she takes it, if she wants someone she let's them know & goes about trying to seduce them, if she wants to commit a wanton act of violence then God help you. She's not struggling to control shit, she's straight up indulging. Drinking so fully from the cup of life that she can't even tell she's overflowing already. It's a little bit "this is encouraged by the lifestyle of regularly pillaging to float your standard of living" & little bit "pure copium."

That's not all to say she can't contain herself, but it's kind of (to those on the outside of House Farwynd, or--even more insularly--her crew) arbitrary & unpredictable when she'll decide to rein herself in. If it benefits Aldreda more to control the baser aspects of herself, or if it goes against everything that ever got drilled into her head about how certain things simply work, then she holds back & controls herself quite well. Like, she has the willpower & the ability, she just actively chooses to not engage those things because she has way more fun & immediate benefit being a horny little violence goblin.

Which experience of loss or bereavement has most affected your OC?

So this is a two way tie, I would say. Losing one of her older brothers (who was also her favorite) set her on the path to become the Aldreda we know & love today, & losing her youngest/final brother has forced her to confront that a lot of what happened to her after the favorite brother died was traumatic. I touched on the stuff with her favorite brother (Orwen) here, but I'll go over it a bit because I love info dumping about my seal woman & 2k is a lot to read/re-read to pick up on The Orwen Lore & the implications.

Orwen was 10 years older than Aldreda, & was sort of the only one who really took an interest in her/cared that she looked up to him & thought he was cool. So he spent time with her, he taught her to fight, he took her sailing, he told her all kinds of stories & would hold back little bits of plunder from raids when they presented tribute to Lord Alfric because he yoinked it specifically for his little sister. Their dad had been steadily losing his sons before Orwen died, but when he & 2 of the others got caught in a storm & died it was the most at one time, & was also when Lord Alfric just started hemorrhaging sons. This was what turned Aldreda towards "I have to live up to what Orwen was in my mind because I am 13 & think he was perfect, & no one else here is going to live up to what I believe my big brother was like as a raider," which ultimately morphed into "I have to replace all the sons my dad is losing because he can keep making my baby brothers his heirs but they aren't gonna be ready to go do real raiding, & even when they are they're gonna be garbage because they won't be as good a person as I am." [The bar for being a good person is on the fucking ground, btw]

I mention her youngest brother here & here, but I am once again going to elaborate. So Rhys, sweet little baby boy Rhys, he was a full 20 years younger than Aldreda. Rhys was also the last possible attempt at a male heir because Lord Alfric Farwynd’s youngest salt wife is in her 40s now & he's fucking old, his dick isn't working consistently anymore.

Rhys is the son who was explicitly murdered, & there's a pretty limited pool of people who could have poisoned him with an even smaller pool of people with a motive. It got floated around a bit that Aldreda might have done it, but she knows it was her cousin Westley. Like, he admitted it to her. He admitted his whole "get rid of your remaining brothers so I can marry you & become Lord of Lonely Light to right the wrongs done to my dad, & also I'll get so many salt wives for us to share bc I spied on you fucking a woman one time & I'm into that shit (& also not threatened when it's another woman)" plan to her because he's delusional & thought she'd be okay with all that. So Rhys dying has just kind of made her process & acknowledge that "my cousin didn't actually have my best interests at heart & he was grooming me actually & maybe he never really cared about me at all" (she's not processing it in the most sophisticated or modern sense, like, she's more upset he was trying to prime her to get taken political advantage of than the fact he was preying on her from the age of 13). And her actually being aware of that shit has her as fucked up as losing her favorite brother had her.

#asks #alex tag 🖤#note: westley does actually care but in the literal mosy fucked up way. that man is so mentally unwell & also i am in his walls #i am in westley farwynd's walls & i have a hammer #ocs #oc: aldreda farwynd

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 11 months

Text

Angel of God, My Guardian Dear Chapter 13: Matt

Rating: Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: While speaking at a local school for visually impaired youth, Matt runs into his childhood best friend, with whom he lost touch almost 20 years prior.

Warnings/Tags: Starts out sweet 🍭 but then gets SPICY🌶️, rough sex, p in v sex, tiniest bit of possessiveness from Matt (but like, in a sexy way, not a controlling way)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this chapter (especially the first half) and I hope you all like it too! 🥰

Matt awoke early the next morning to the smell of freshly-brewed coffee.

He could tell by the sound of the carefully quiet footsteps in the kitchen that Ms. Y/L/N was up and about, so he pressed a soft kiss to Y/N's forehead then carefully extracted himself from her embrace before returning to his bedroom to get ready for the day.

Once he was dressed, he listened to make sure Y/N was still peacefully slumbering before making his way into the dining room. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Matt," Ms. Y/L/N replied from the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee?"

Matt nodded. "Yes, please."

"Have a seat and I'll bring it to you. Cream or sugar?"

"No, thanks."

He sat as Ms. Y/L/N poured a cup of coffee. "How did you enjoy the beach yesterday?" she asked.

"It was nice." Matt smiled. "We managed to find a pretty private spot to relax and eat, and afterwards Y/N read aloud to me for a while before we took a walk along the shore, then on the way back here she took me to this seafood restaurant where we had coconut martinis and something called 'conch'."

Ms. Y/L/N let out a light laugh. "Ah, so Y/N did take you to the Fish House. I figured she would. Was Hugh your waiter?"

Matt nodded with a grin. "Actually, yes, Y/N specifically requested him. He said to tell you hello, by the way."

Ms. Y/L/N sighed wistfully. "Such a lovely man, always takes such good care of us when we go. So how'd you like the conch fritters?"

Matt chuckled. "I wasn't too sure about trying them at first, but Y/N assured me that I'd like it, and it really was actually very good. I definitely wouldn't mind going back to Islamorada with Y/N again when it's not quite as busy."

"Spring and fall are good times to go, especially if you don't plan on actually getting in the water." Ms. Y/L/N set Matt's coffee down and took a seat adjacent to him. "Here you go, dear."

"Thank you." Matt picked his cup up and took a sip. "And thank you for your hospitality this weekend. I've enjoyed my visit."

"You're more than welcome. It's truly been a delight getting to know you, especially after hearing so much about you from Y/N over the years." Ms. Y/L/N took a deep breath. "And speaking of that, Matthew, I've been wanting to apologize to you for my involvement in separating you and Y/N back when you were teenagers. I had apparently been… shall we say… misinformed by Sister Bernadette about you and the nature of your relationship with Y/N at the time and did what I thought was best based on the information I had been given, and for that I am truly very sorry."

Matt shook his head. "I'm sure you hadn't been completely misinformed, at least not about me, anyway, although I'm sure what you'd been told had probably been at least somewhat exaggerated. As for my relationship with Y/N, though, I promise you that it really was strictly platonic at the time, despite what Sister Bernadette may have assumed was going on between us."

He huffed out a laugh. "Make no mistake, I was completely head-over-heels in love with Y/N even way back then, but I thought that I didn't deserve someone as amazing and special as she is, so I kept my feelings hidden."

"She is quite special, isn't she?" Matt could hear the fond smile in Ms. Y/L/N's voice. "But from what I gather, Matthew, so are you . You've definitely helped shape Y/N into who she is as a person, and for that I must thank you."

Matt smiled softly and nodded. "She's definitely helped shape me into who I am as well."

He paused. "Did she ever tell you what my nickname for her was when we were growing up?"

Ms. Y/L/N hummed in thought. "No, I don't believe she did."

"It was 'Angel'. When I first arrived at St. Agnes I was so nervous and so scared, but then Y/N came up to me and offered to be my friend, no questions asked. She was so kind and so gentle that I thought for sure that she must have been my guardian angel sent from Heaven to watch over me." Matt chuckled. "Honestly, sometimes I still think she is. Since the moment I met her Y/N has been the kindest and most beautiful, selfless, caring, patient, loving, and nurturing person I know, and I thank God every single day for returning her to me. When she left it felt like a piece of my soul had left as well, and the day I got her back I became whole again."

Ms. Y/L/N huffed out a light laugh. "I suppose I don't need to ask what your intentions are with her then."

Matt shook his head with a small smile. He had originally planned to just clear the air with Ms. Y/L/N this trip and broach the subject of marriage at a later date, but given the way the conversation was heading he figured he might as well just go ahead and lay all his cards on the table now. "I would think they'd probably be quite obvious, but just in case they're not..."

He paused and took a deep breath. "I know Y/N and I just recently reconnected and haven't been dating all that long, but I have loved her since I was 9 years old and known that I wanted to spend my life with her for almost as long, which is why I want to ask you for your blessing to marry her."

Ms. Y/L/N was silent for a moment. "Did you know that Y/N was engaged once before?"

Matt nodded, his heart thrumming nervously in his chest. "Yes, ma'am. She told me."

"Alex was a nice young man, but I could always tell that Y/N was never truly in love with him." Ms. Y/L/N sighed. "I really hate to admit it because I know it sounds awful, but I was relieved when she broke off the engagement. The last thing I wanted was for her to marry someone to whom her heart didn't belong."

She reached over and gave Matt's hand a squeeze. "Y/N's heart has always been yours , Matt, and from seeing the two of you together this weekend I can tell that she's always had your heart as well. So, I happily and wholeheartedly give you my blessing."

Matt sighed in relief, unable to help the huge smile that spread across his face. "Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N."

Ms. Y/L/N patted Matt on the arm. "Oh and by the way, you can call me Aunt Ruth, you know. After all, you should've been my nephew-in-law years ago."

Matt chuckled, then gave a slight nod. "Okay then. Thank you, Aunt Ruth."

Aunt Ruth took a sip of her coffee. "Now, I assume you'll be proposing soon, correct? I wouldn't imagine that you would want to lose any more time with Y/N than you already have."

Matt nodded, relieved that she had given him her blessing so readily. "Yes ma'am, probably in the next couple of months. I just need to find the perfect ring first."

"Well if I can help in any way, let me know."

"Okay, I will."

Aunt Ruth stood. "More coffee?"

Matt shook his head. "I'm good for now. Maybe in a minute."

Aunt Ruth walked over to the kitchen area. "Breakfast, then. I'm sure Y/N will be up soon."

As if on cue, Matt heard Y/N's door open.

He turned towards the doorway with a grin as Y/N walked into the dining room. "Morning, angel."

Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a kiss. "Mmm. Good morning, yourself."

She walked over to Aunt Ruth, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Morning, Aunt Ruth."

"Good morning, dear," Aunt Ruth replied. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, I slept great."

Matt couldn't help but smirk to himself as he took a sip of his coffee. While he admittedly felt a little guilty about sneaking into Y/N's room the previous night for a late-night romp, neither one of them would have gotten any sleep otherwise. (And as a bonus, he had wound up getting to fulfill several fantasies he had always had involving Y/N.)

Y/N poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down next to Matt. "So what have you two been up to this morning?"

"Just talking about your trip to Islamorada yesterday and discussing breakfast options." Aunt Ruth moved towards the refrigerator. "What would you like?"

Y/N hummed thoughtfully. "Scrambled eggs?"

"Sure thing. Matt?"

"That's fine, thank you."

"Okay, coming right up."

"You know, Matt's a wonderful chef," Y/N said as Aunt Ruth grabbed the carton of eggs. "Everything he makes is amazing."

"Oh really?" Aunt Ruth replied. "Now why am I not surprised?"

Matt smiled. "You'll have to let me cook for you the next time you're in New York… Or maybe the next time Y/N and I come here for a visit."

Aunt Ruth gave a hum of affirmation. "That would be wonderful, Matt, thank you. And actually, that reminds me, we should probably start discussing plans for the holidays this year. Since there's a chance you two would be back here at the end of the year for Father DeMaria's retirement celebration anyway, I was thinking that I could come up to New York for Thanksgiving and you two come here for Christmas?"

"Makes sense to me," Y/N said. "Will that work for you, sweetheart?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, that should work just fine."

"Okay, then it's settled." Aunt Ruth poured the eggs into her electric skillet. "Y/N, maybe we can do some shopping while I'm in New York."

Y/N took a sip of her coffee. "Sure, that would be fun."

Matt took Y/N's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Thanksgiving at your place or mine?"

"Mmm…" Y/N thought for a moment. "Well, your kitchen is bigger… so probably yours, if you don't mind?"

Matt shook his head. "Of course not, angel. Not at all."

He smiled to himself as he thought about spending future holidays together in New York, Y/N nervously checking on dinner every five minutes until Matt gently reminded her that if she kept opening the oven whatever she was cooking would never be done, then whisking her off to their bedroom to distract her while they waited.

Y/N pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Matt could feel Aunt Ruth watching them with a smile as she cooked their eggs. "So what time is your flight again?" she asked.

"11:30," Y/N replied, finishing her coffee and getting up, presumably to fix herself another cup. "Which reminds me, I need to finish packing."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, me too, actually."

Aunt Ruth hummed in confirmation as she plated their eggs. "Okay, just let me know when you're ready to head to the airport."

"Okay, we will."

Y/N and Aunt Ruth walked back over to the table, Y/N setting Matt's plate in front of him. "Here you go, sweetheart."

Matt gave her another kiss. "Thanks, angel."

They quickly ate, then Matt and Y/N went to go finish packing.

Matt had just finished folding his garment bag into his suitcase when Y/N appeared in his doorway. "All set?" she asked, stepping inside the room.

Matt nodded as he zipped his suitcase closed. "Yeah, I think so. Hopefully I haven't forgotten anything important. I'd hate to have to wait almost 3 months to get it back."

"Want me to double-check?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

He waited as Y/N gave his room a quick once-over. "Nope, I think you have everything."

Matt wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you for checking."

"No problem, sweetheart." Y/N gave him a kiss. "Here, let's strip your bed so we can help Aunt Ruth get a head start on washing our sheets and pillowcases and stuff."

Matt nodded. "Okay."

They quickly stripped the bed and brought the covers to the laundry room, where Y/N put them to wash along with her own.

Y/N checked the time as they walked back into the kitchen, where Aunt Ruth was loading her dishwasher. "I think we should probably go ahead and head to the airport now since lots of people will be traveling today and traffic might be heavy."

"Okay," Aunt Ruth replied. "Give me one second to grab my purse and we'll head out."

Matt and Y/N gathered their belongings and loaded them into Aunt Ruth's trunk while she grabbed her purse.

The drive was filled with pleasant conversation about their upcoming holiday plans, with Matt promising to introduce Aunt Ruth to Foggy and Karen when she came to visit for Thanksgiving.

"By the way, it's been wonderful being here," he said as they neared the airport. "Thank you again for everything this weekend, Aunt Ruth. I really appreciate it."

Matt could feel Y/N looking at him curiously. "Yeah, Aunt Ruth, " she said, the slight emphasis on Aunt Ruth only detectable to Matt's ears. "Thanks."

"Oh, you're both more than welcome," Aunt Ruth replied as she pulled into the Departures' drop-off lane. "It's been an absolute delight having you here, and I'm looking forward to having you both back over Christmas."

She parked and popped the trunk, then they all got out to unload Matt and Y/N's suitcases.

Y/N gave Aunt Ruth a hug. "Bye, Aunt Ruth."

"Bye, Y/N." Aunt Ruth turned and gave Matt a hug as well. "Bye, Matt. Love you both. Have a safe flight home, and Y/N, text me when you land."

"We love you too, and I will," Y/N replied, taking Matt's free hand in hers. "See you at Thanksgiving."

They waited until Aunt Ruth had driven off, then headed inside the airport.

"I'm glad to hear she's Aunt Ruth now," Y/N said with curiosity on top of genuine happiness in her voice after they got their luggage checked in and headed towards the security screening area.

Matt chuckled. "Uh, yeah, she and I actually didn't just talk about our trip to Islamorada this morning… She apologized for misjudging me and for her part in our forced separation and said that since I obviously planned to stick around for a while that I might as well call her 'Aunt Ruth'."

He smiled to himself. Of course, that hadn't been the whole conversation, but… well, he would tell Y/N the rest when the time came.

Y/N huffed out a laugh as they took their shoes off and emptied their pockets then headed through the metal detectors. "For 'a while', huh? And just how long is 'a while'?"

As long as we both shall live. Matt shrugged with a grin as he slipped his shoes back on and put his wallet and phone back in his pocket. "As long as you'll have me."

Y/N linked her fingers through his as they headed towards their gate. "Oh, so 'forever' then?"

Matt chuckled, his heart full of happiness. "Yeah, sounds good to me."

Y/N gave his hand a squeeze. "Good."

They made their way to their boarding gate and sat.

Matt could hear the gentle shift of fabric as Y/N crossed her legs, the memory of being buried between her thighs the previous night creeping into his mind and flooding his thoughts.

He could feel Y/N studying him. "You okay?" she asked. "You suddenly look a little flushed."

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket and popped in an earbud, then typed out a message to Y/N. I can't stop thinking about how much I enjoyed last night, angel. Keep thinking about the way your body spoke to me.

A few seconds later, his phone chimed in reply. I enjoyed it too, Matty. It's how I had always imagined our first time to be.

Matt let out a soft groan. Me too, angel, except I missed hearing that heavenly voice of yours letting me know how good I was making you feel. God, how I love to hear you, Y/N, love the way my name sounds on your lips when you come for me, be it on my mouth and fingers or on my cock. Can't wait to get you home so I can fuck those pretty moans out of you that I didn't get to hear last night.

He smirked as Y/N sucked in a breath. Ohh, you can't wait either, can you angel? Can't wait to have my cock buried deep inside your needy little cunt, drawing out those beautiful sounds only I've ever been able to pull out of you?

Y/N shifted in her seat, the sweet perfume of her arousal filling Matt's nose. You do realize we have a 3-hour flight ahead of us, right?

Matt grinned, feeling Y/N's eyes on him. Yes, but once I get you back to my apartment I'm going to have that beautiful voice of yours screaming out my name.

The scent of Y/N's arousal grew stronger. Is that a threat, Murdock?

Matt shook his head. Oh no, my beautiful, sweet angel. That's a promise.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

They had barely gotten themselves and their suitcases inside and shut the door of Matt's apartment 4 hours later when Y/N whirled around on Matt, pressing her lips to his as she pushed him against the wall.

Matt grinned against her lips as he took his glasses off and tossed them onto his end table. "Someone's impatient."

Y/N tugged Matt's shirt out of his jeans and pulled it over his head. "Well I wouldn't be if you wouldn't have worked me up the whole fucking flight home, Matthew."

Matt groaned as she ran her hands across his chest and down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. "Can't help that I love to touch you, angel."

Y/N unbuckled his belt and pulled it loose before tossing it away. "Yeah, well, get to touching then."

Matt chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

He spun them around, quickly placing a hand behind Y/N's head so she wouldn't bump it against the wall.

Y/N gasped in a breath, her already-rapid pulse quickening even more.

Ah, so that's how she wants it. Matt had originally planned on taking his time with Y/N and teasing her into an incoherent mess before taking her apart, but Y/N's brief attempt at taking charge put Matt in the mood to give her exactly what she wanted.

(Didn't mean he wasn't going to tease her a bit first, though.)

He nosed her neck. "God, you smell amazing, angel. Been driving me crazy, wanted to drag you off to go fuck you in the bathroom on the plane. Guess I'll just have to fuck you right here instead."

He unbuttoned her shorts and slid his hand inside, cupping her mound over her underwear and groaning at the damp patch he felt. "Jesus, angel, you're practically dripping for me."

Y/N let out a moan. "Yes, Matty, all for you, baby. Need you in me."

Matt smirked as he pulled his hand out of Y/N's shorts then tugged her shorts and underwear down.

He slid two fingers into her. "Mmm, is this what you want, sweet girl? Or do you want my cock deep inside you, filling you up with my cum?"

Y/N gasped. "Want your cock, Matthew, please."

The combination of his given name and the outright plea coming from Y/N's lips broke the final strand of Matt's resolve. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste Y/N's nectar.

He groaned in pleasure. "Fuck, you taste so good, Y/N. Gonna get my mouth on you properly later."

He pulled her shirt up and off of her then pulled her bra down, kissing and nipping his way down to her breasts as Y/N frantically unbuttoned Matt's pants and shoved them down, freeing his hard cock.

Matt slipped his hands around her thighs. "Hold on."

He picked her up and pressed her against the wall, Y/N wrapping her arms around his neck for support.

Matt lined himself up with her core, using her wetness to coat himself before barely pressing inside and holding himself there.

Y/N whimpered. "Matt, stop teasing."

Matt growled deep in his chest. "Mmm, so needy, angel. Come on, pretty girl, beg for me."

He could feel Y/N's channel tighten right above where he was nestled in her. "Please Matthew," she pleaded. "Need you to fuck me, want to feel you stretching me out with your co -- ohmyfuckingGodyes ."

Matt buried himself to the hilt in one smooth motion, biting his lip as he resisted the urge to come on the spot like a prepubescent teenager. "Gonna stuff you full, my sweet angel, make you forget everything but my name and how good my cock feels inside you."

Y/N moaned. "God, yes. Fucking wreck me, Matthew."

Matt slid out, leaving just his tip inside Y/N before plunging back into her, setting a quick, rough pace. "Shit, such a perfect little cunt. And it's mine, isn't it, Y/N?"

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath. "Yes, yes, yours, Matt, fuck, I'm all yours, every part of me. I've always been yours."

Matt groaned. "I'm yours too, angel, God , I love you so much. You're it for me, Y/N, always have been."

"Love you, Matty, want to spend forever with you, want to --" Y/N cut herself off with a gasp.

Matt could feel the edges of his orgasm quickly approaching. "Shit, fuck , I'm -- I'm not gonna last, angel."

"Me either, Matty. I'm so close, need you to come inside me, please."

Matt tightened his hold on her and began to thrust even harder, his cock reaching that perfect spot inside Y/N that he knew would have her coming around him in less than a minute.

Y/N cried out in pleasure, digging her nails into Matt's shoulders. "God, yes -- right there, Matt, feels so fucking good, don't stop, sweetheart, please."

Matt adjusted his hold and began to circle her clit with his thumb. "Want you to come with me, angel, want to feel that sweet little cunt of yours milking my cock, taking all of my cum deep inside you."

He could feel Y/N's walls begin to tighten around his cock. "That's it, angel, let go for me. I'm right there too, beautiful, gonna fill you up, give you what you need."

Y/N hissed in a breath. "Yes, oh my God, Matt, please, yes, yes, yes, yes, Matt --"

Matt slammed into Y/N one last time, emptying himself deep inside her as she came around him.

Y/N shivered and buried her face in Matt's neck. "God, I love you," she panted.

"Mmm, I love you too," Matt murmured, carefully pulling out of her.

He gingerly set her down, making sure she wasn't going to fall before letting her go. "You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Y/N gave him a kiss. "No, I'm okay."

"Okay, good." Matt grinned. "That was pretty unexpected, but fun."

Y/N laughed. "Yeah."

Matt pulled his boxers and pants back up. "So, how about we get your laundry going, then shower and eat?"

Y/N hummed happily. "Mmhmm. Oh, and we need to make a grocery list for you."

"Okay." Matt found his shirt and held it out to her. "Want to wear this until we shower? I can give you something clean to wear afterwards since your clothes won't be done for a while."

Y/N took it from him. "Yeah, thanks, sweetheart."

She gave him another kiss. "Oh, and just for future reference, the next time you decide to tease me like that on an airplane I'm dragging you off to go join the mile-high club."

Matt grinned, already planning to rile her up on their flight to Florida for Christmas. "Deal."

#lotmf writes #AoG Masterlist #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x yn

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v-arbellanaris · 10 months

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i have a question. or not really a question and more like a request for advice.

basically: my mahariel is currently canonically involved with alistair in dao until the landsmeet where he dumps her because he's now king and was unhardened. this is all planned and on purpose because it was the least tragic outcome for my worldstate. mahariel later gets in another relationship that presumably works out well unless da4 does something to either hof or the other person. but that's not the point.

the point is, i made her romance alistair when i liked him. and now i... kinda don't. i'm not sure what happened but he's starting to annoy me. you could make up some "you just grew up" stuff probably but i was 17 when first playing and now i'm 20 so not much growing up could happen.

and now i don't know what to do. do i just never play dao again (actually plausible because i fried my brain on top of having adhd and now i cannot replay games without just skipping dialogue because it's not captivating anymore) to avoid cringing at his romance? do i change her entire romance and the worldstate (it used to be carefully planned to not kill either alistair or hawke because i didn't want that kind of unhappy ending for mahariel and because my hawke is andersmancer and anders is literally the reason i started the game so i'm NOT breaking my blorbo's heart like that) but i feel like that would undermine the 3 years of building canon? do i just accept that i have to get through alistair's romance if i ever replay dao on my babygirl?

i literally have no idea what to do and if i should even do anything. like it's pixels and not that deep. help

also no hate to alistair enjoyers i get the appeal but seems like it ended up not being my cup of tea.

sorry for the wall of text and it's probably very incoherent i have no brain and it's 1 am and i'm not even currently focused on dragon age but i needed to ask someone for an opinion apparently

AHHHHH i love it when aliwarden drama its soooo good. for obvious reasons, like kal's worldstate, i love it when he dumps you for various reasons.

i think this makes sense though! each individual is different, and the past three years have been enough to age anyone twenty years, so it's understandable if you look back at him with a different perspective. that being said, i also understand being really reluctant to undo 3 years worth of work on character and dynamic building.

from my perspective, you have several options:

ONE, you replay dao with your babygirl and see where that takes you. sometimes, that's a return to the whiteboard or to have the opportunity to explore the game can open up loads of new areas for consideration you might not have been able to think of out of game because in-game you just sometimes have to make a snap decision. i DID also do this w my kal pt which made me change canon from alistair getting exiled to king alistair married to anora which i'm really happy with because 1. kal having to live with the consequences of her actions in a very real way 2. the inherent messiness of that whole situation after is something i enjoy intensely. and you might find another romance more interesting to pursue for mahariel you might not have thought of!

TWO, incorporate this perspective growth into your character! i think one of the most tragic aspects of the aliwarden romance - if you're doing a Specific kind of pt, like yours, and like my alikal runs as well - is that in a lot of ways, for a lot of characters, the tragic inevitability of their falling apart can always be there from the start. wynne's warnings become a prophecy rather than just her brownnosing. for kal, she was always going to be on the opposite character arc that alistair was going to be on because of how their stories start and end - kal has already gotten her revenge at the start of the story, whereas alistair is heading towards the resolution of a revenge story at the end. so maybe it's worth it to try and think about the headspace your mahariel starts in, and how she develops through the story, and how the story shapes her - and how that differs or doesn't differ from alistair. how does her growth through the story impact alistair's?

in defense of alistair's... childishness? i suppose? he acts young because he is very young! he's nineteen! a lot his humour is a mask for very deep trauma and insecurities. and his decisions can be very frustrating for a HOF but i think considering that he's grieving the loss of a lot people he cared about - ofc he talks about duncan specifically but he does also talk about a lot of the other fereldan wardens, everyone who had made the wardens a family for him over the last six months for a guy who has never had a family before and deeply, intensely, wants one is really insane. and i think it really puts a lot of his actions into perspective and contextualise that. and maybe going through the game and re-experiencing Actual Alistair and not Fandom Perspectives On Alistair might help you reach a decision about where you want to go with him narratively.

i hope that was of help to you!

#asks

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gamesbyalbie · 29 days

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The Cursed Journey

PART 5: BRAINSTORM

FIVE YEARS AGO

"So, what are you working on?" Min-joon was at the stove. He wasn't using it—he was using the kettle—but I literally didn't have a counter in that apartment. What I had was a sheet of plywood laid across the stove's burners (I think that's what they're called, but that also seems a bit too on the nose).

I didn't cook—still don't—so the kettle lived on that plywood board along with a cup containing two sets of utensils, a pair of chopsticks, and one sharp knife. My mug and tea collection took up one shelf in my "kitchen", but the others had been repurposed for book storage.

I was sitting on my bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows and scribbling in a notebook. "Nothing good." I tried to erase a line so intensely that it ripped the page. "Ugh!" I tore it from the book, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it across the room.

"Dammit," I whispered, because—naturally—it missed the bin by at least half a meter.

Min-joon chuckled as he passed me a cup of tea. "Here."

"Thanks." I held the cup below my face, giving myself a mini steam facial and savoring the aroma. The tea was Earl Grey. Specifically, it was this kind with extra bergamot I could only find at a corner shop on Fifth. Min-joon had also used my favorite mug—but I don't think he knew that at the time. It was this lovely dark blue mug with the spines of Ursula K. Le Guin books wrapping around the body. I was shattered myself when it broke during my last move.

"Probably need to let it steep for a while." He advised, taking a seat on the foot of my bed. I noticed that he was stirring his drink with a fork.

"Why are you—"

"Both your spoons were dirty. Which—if I may add—is pretty pathetic. No self-respecting adult has less than three spoons."

"Fascinating." I murmur, face still hovering over my mug. "You assume I have self-respect."

He snorted. "Right. My bad." A smirk lanced across Min-joon's face. He gestured at me then vaguely at the rest of my studio. "I should probably judge this book by its cover."

"Asshole," I whispered affectionately. "So, what are you forking?"

Min-joon snickered. "Instant coffee."

I shivered. My face twisted into a visage of pure disgust. "I don't get how you stomach that stuff."

"It's good."

"It's vile."

"Well, if it's so gross why do you have it?"

"Because I knew you were coming." I responded and took a sip of my tea. "Mm." I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "That's good." When I opened them again, Min-joon was staring at me. He hadn't moved and his coffee fork was still in his hand. He was just smiling. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He tore his gaze away. "I've no idea what you're talking about." I rolled my eyes. "But, back to my question: what are you working on? 'Nothing good' is not an acceptable answer."

I sighed and set my mug on the window sill. "Fine." I went to toss him my notebook but he raised his index finger.

"Wait. Throwing is not our strong suit. Remember?" He pointed at the bin.

I rolled my eyes even harder but bent at the waist, placing the book in his outstretched hand.

"Thank you very much. And what am I looking at? A toddler's first attempt at writing?"

I yanked the book out of his hand. "If you're gonna be a dick—"

"I'm kidding." He took it back. "Your chicken scratch is mostly legible."

"Thank you, I know." I fully reclined on the pillows and crossed my arms over my head. "Anyways, I was working on that Greek myth retelling—the queer, cyberpunk one—but I'm struggling with some of the smaller plot points. So, I'm trying to come up with something new but I can't come up with anything good! The only cool ideas I'm getting are stories that no one else will be interested in and everything else feels dull and derivative."

"Okay." He took a sip of his coffee while flipping through my notebook. "Where's the problem?"

"What?" I sat straight up, hands slapping against my comforter. "What do you mean? It should be pretty obvious. I just said—"

"What you just said is that you have some cool ideas. Great! Do you feel inspired to write them?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Do they excite you?"

"Sure—"

"Then write them! I don't see a problem. Like, this—" He pointed to a hastily scrawled paragraph I'd almost ripped out yesterday. "This sounds really fucking cool."

"But it's... weird!"

"So? Weird is good! We're both weird. I write weird shit. And—if I may add—that's going pretty well."

"You are an exception."

"No, I am not. Not that it matters! People put too much emphasis on 'success', whatever that's supposed to mean." Min-joon sighed and tilted his head to the side. "Ody, why do you write?"

I deliberated for a moment, stripping away the dozens of reasons to find the core truth. "Because I love it."

"Then don't judge yourself based on what you assume others will think. Fuck everyone else. Write for you. Give yourself permission to love what you're doing and just do what you love."

"That's what you do?"

"It is now." He rubbed my hand with his thumb. "Ever since I quit. I mean, life gets in the way sometimes, but yeah. In general, I only do things I love."

"And what do I do when I hit another block?"

Min-joon shrugged. "There's no clear, universal answer to that. It differs for everyone, but I think people try to force themselves to write too much and beat themselves up unnecessarily. Only write when you feel like it. Take breaks. Try new things. Don't be afraid to stop, pivot, or start anew. I don't know." He trailed off. We were silent for a moment.

"Okay." I finally mumbled. "Well, thank you for the private lecture."

He was taking another sip when I said that and I'm pretty sure some coffee went up his nose as he laughed. "You're very welcome."

"So," I smirked, glancing at the paragraph he'd pointed to. "To summarize: in your professional opinion, I should go ahead and write weird shit."

"Fuck yeah." He smiled. "As long as you like it, the weirder the better."

End of Part 5 of ? • LAST PART • NEXT PART

More Cursed Journey • More by Albie • Image Source

The amazing music video that inspired this:

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#writing #short fiction #draft #cursed journey #dpr ian #don't go insane #albie writes #part 5

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ourlittleforever · 3 months

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Millie is left reeling from Trostani's betrayal.

Words: 1389

Rating: T

News of Trostani’s betrayal had reached every corner of Ravnica. The dryad was allegedly still in a trance following the revelation of Oba’s slaughters, and the Selesnya had attempted to carry on, business-as-usual.

Millie, meanwhile, retreated from their duties to the Conclave. They hadn’t been very active to begin with – it was their parents who had been dutiful members – but now, the half-elf’s involvement was nil. They spent their days in silence, contemplating endlessly.

The shapeshifter hopped off the trash can he had been sitting on, perched in the form of a cat. He padded over to the fence and squeezed between the bars, entering the house via a cat door (how many times had he reprimanded Millie for leaving such an obvious opening to their house?). Then, he manifested in his most common form, behind his partner. The half-elf was staring into a cup of tea, totally absorbed in thought.

Lazav returned to Millie’s home shortly after Oba was exposed. He had laid low, trying to solve the murders for himself, but that damn waste-of-space agency had beaten him to it. The Invasion had left his skills rusty, it seemed.

“Millichika,” he said gently, laying a hand on their shoulder. They hardly responded, and Lazav felt a strange pang deep in his chest – for all his arcane wisdom, he couldn’t place the sensation clawing beneath what would have been his ribcage. “Millichika. Your tea is cold.”

They blinked, tilting the tea toward themself, and their button nose twitched. “I forgot all about it,” they admitted, pushing it aside. Their gray-green eyes, usually bright and sparkling with good cheer, were puffy and red. “I’m sorry.”

“Trostani,” they replied flatly. “Selesnya. The whole damn thing.” They rubbed their swollen eyes. “I… I’ve been thinking, since you’ve been gone. I might… I think I’m going to resign from the Conclave.”

“You have no reason to apologize.” Lazav swept his cloak back and sat across from them at the table. “Tell me what troubles you, kisa.”

Lazav titled his head. “And why is that?” he prodded. Admittedly, he’d never expected Millie to even consider such a thing. They were a predictable kind of person – most of the time.

Millie’s typically even temperament flared for a brief moment, but they quickly collected themself. “Oba. She… she’s betrayed us all. Not just the Conclave. All of Ravnica was hurt by her, and now she just gets to – to run away? To hide behind her sisters and Emmara?” Their eyes darkened. “And the Conclave acts like nothing happened. Oh, just play nice with each other. We’re the guild of harmony, we can’t acknowledge that Trostani is a murderer.” Millie sniffled. “And we’re supposed to believe she’s the true voice of Mat’Selesnya. That she gives a damn about Ravnica. No, she’s selfish.” They paused. “I never felt all that close to the Conclave anyway. Elves and humans aren’t supposed to mix, but here I am. They all tried to be nice, but I’ve always been an outsider. Even in the guild that’s supposed to be about peace and acceptance. I’ve never fit in.”

That strange feeling prickled under Lazav’s skin again, and he realized what it was – sorrow, for Millie. Belief was such a fickle thing; that, he knew well. All it took to make a knot of religion come apart was to pull at one specific string.

The half-elf stared out the window, where Vitu-Ghazi stood proud in the distance. “We’re taught to believe in Trostani, you know. To be completely, totally devoted to her. I… I already struggled with that devotion. But now, it’s gone. I think of her and I feel bitter. But…” Millie swallowed hard. “I want to leave, but my association with the Conclave… it’s the last thing I have from my parents.” Hot tears brimmed in their eyes, and Lazav couldn’t help but reach across the small table and cup their cheek in one hand. “If I leave the Conclave, follow my heart, I won’t have anything left from them. If I stay, I’ll stay bitter, and I’ll never be happy.” Millie’s eyes flickered suddenly. “Actually, I think… I think I know what I’m going to do. Thank you for listening, Zava.”

They stood from the table, nearly stumbling over Vasily and Murka on their way to the bedroom. When they returned a few moments later, Millie was fastening the last buttons on their heavy tartan coat. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I need to do this alone. But thank you.” Millie paused at the door. “If you’re thinking of sending a spy bug after me, I can’t stop you. But… I’d really like it if I could just. Do this by myself. I need to.”

—

“I understand.” Lazav nodded to them. “Go, kukolka. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Millie arrived at Vitu-Ghazi some twenty minutes later. It was early afternoon, a busy time for the Conclave, so they were able to weave through the crowd, avoiding prying questions and doubting glares. They came to the council chamber, where a centaur guard was snoring outside.

Emmara Tandris looked up, and the gaze of her fellow council members fell upon Millie. There were harsh whispers and inquisitive yet accusatory stares. The half-elf felt their ears warm, but they did their best to stand tall. “Guildmaster Tandris, I need to speak to you.”

Millie opened the doors as quietly as possible and slipped inside so as not to disturb the slumbering guardian.

“Approach,” the elf replied, despite the murmurings of her chorus.

The low-ranking guild member stepped forward, keeping their chin held high. “I…” Millie’s throat felt dry, but they forced themself to speak. “I am resigning from the Conclave. I can’t follow Trostani any longer. And I can’t stand and watch the rest of the Conclave behave as nothing is wrong.”

Emmara’s face was painfully sympathetic and serene, and it almost made Millie want to vomit. “I understand,” she responded gently.

“You know what this means, Guildmaster,” a Conclave crony said. Millie knew what it meant, too.

The high priest of the Conclave sighed softly, and reached out to touch Millie’s hand, which they allowed. Even if they couldn’t believe in Trostani, Millie could appreciate Emmara. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, before raising her voice so the rest of the council could hear. “Milena Laska, you are exiled from Vitu-Ghazi. You may shop at our stalls; you may be healed at our sanctuaries. But you may never step foot in the Guildhall again.”

“I understand,” Millie echoed. “Thank you.”

They turned and left without another word, passing the still-slumbering guard. Millie felt like they were lost in a daze, stumbling through Vitu-Ghazi and out into the cold winter air.

—

Instead of taking a carriage, Millie walked the entire way home.

“How did it go?” Lazav asked as soon as Millie stepped inside.

“Better than I thought,” they admitted. “Exiled from the Guildhall, but that’s really it.”

“Hmm.” Lazav crossed his arms. “Guildmaster Tandris is a naive fool, but she’s a kind fool.”

“I imagine you say the same thing about me.”

“Only because you won’t close up the cat door.”

“Even if I want to go to Hellbender?”

“Zava,” Millie sighed heavily, and Lazav couldn’t help but smirk a bit. They knew he was teasing – though he considered that now was not the time, and backed off.

“Should we do something tonight, to keep your mind off things?”

“I’ll go get changed and do my makeup.” On their way by, Millie leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. For everything, really. You’ve shown and taught me so much.”

“Yes, even if you want to go to Hellbender.”

“You flatter me, kisa. Now, why don’t you go put on the nice red dress I bought you? I’d like to see it again. We’ll have dinner, I’ll accompany you to Hellbender…”

“You’ll dance with me at Hellbender,” Millie corrected.

Lazav ceded the point with a slight nod. “We’ll have a nice night. You and I.”

“I’m counting on it.” One more kiss, and then they disappeared into their bedroom.

Lazav felt pride surge in his chest. His Millie had freed themself from the confines of the Selesnya; and now they could be whomever they wanted, the master of their own fate – at his side, of course.

#self ship #self insert #selfship #self shipping #self insert community #f/o #f/o community #milliefic #the shadow and the light

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