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38riku · 4 months ago

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𝐁𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🎂 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

scenarios based on their birthday voice line. includes trey clover, cater diamond, leona kingscholar, and idia shroud.

/ suggestive if you squint. some of their voice lines are so flirty it's not my fault. gender neutral. /

𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 ☀︎ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

"ha-ha, way to put me on the spot. well, thanks. you know, according to the Queen of Hearts' laws, we're allowed to ask for anything we want on our birthdays ... h-hey, chill. I was joking."

it was slightly amusing to see the usually composed and cool headed trey clover flustered. his cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. 'why did I say that?' he questioned over and over silently until his head started to spin.

"well, I'd hate to break one the Queen's laws." golden eyes widened in bewilderment at your statement. you were having the time of your life teasing him, weren't you? giggling like the menace he knows you to be.

your hands toyed with his tie, slowly and gently tugging at the fabric. if riddle saw him he'd surely hear an earful about proper dress, but, who cares? not him. not when you were flirting with him so blatantly in his room.

"what will it be clover?"

"what're you willing to give darling?"

the look in your eyes answered for him. everything. anything. no matter how ludicrous the request or object it would be his.

"you know you have my consent, yes?" your question was met with a nod, and a very deep gulp. he was great at keeping up the calm, cool and collected facade but, upon closer inspection — thundering heartbeat, cheeks now turning a deep red color, sweaty palms — he was, in fact, far from that.

trey didn't realize he had leaned in until he felt your breath fan his cheek. the faint smell of his birthday tart from the party reminded him that anyone could walk in. even so, there was no need to rush this moment.

it's his birthday after all. he deserves to be a bit selfish.

especially when it tastes like cherries.

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 ☀︎ 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘

"you remembered my birthday? thanks! you're so nice, taking the time to celebrate with me. okay, bring it in for a pic! gotta commemorate this on Magicam."

"today was fun! i can't believe you planned all this just for me." although he kept his usual happy go lucky cadence, there was an underlying tone of disbelief. he had asked you to pinch him many times during your outing yet it still didn't feel real.

each part of the day was calculated. no matter how many times you deny it, he was in the forefront of your mind.

there was no cake or sweet treat. instead, a plate of spicy curry with happy birthday written in sauce. it was a bit sloppy but made his heart warm and brain fuzzy.

he half expected the two of you to go shopping, however, you surprised him again with a trip to the bookstore. cater knew you enjoyed manga. it was a popular topic amongst you and the underclassmen.

"branching out is an important part of growing up!" you had lectured him. he found it amusing but allowed you to coerce him into getting a few volumes of your favorites.

not that it took much. you could ask for the moon and cater would find a way to make it happen.

lastly, was his dislike for crowds. thus, the two of you were on the quiet beach, watching the sunset as the sky exploded in various hues of warmth. it had been a cinematic ending to his birthday. and, for once, he didn't want it to end.

the celebrations typically left a bad taste in his mouth. literally.

if anyone were to make today the least bit tolerable it would be you. the two of you were friends, not super close but far from distant, and today – like many other days – time went by too fast, and wish you'd stay beside him a but longer.

"let's take a picture!" cater smiled, not waiting for your answer as he pulled you close. hopefully you didn't notice how nervous he was to hold you like this, so close, so warm.

with a silly face for the camera he snapped the photo, only to feel a burst of warmth on his cheek.

"happy birthday cater!" you were so genuine, smiling softly and asking "same time next year?"

cater couldn't bring himself to answer. but, if his toothy smile was anything to go by then it was a resounding yes.

for once he looked forward to next year. more importantly, spending it with you.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 ☀︎ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

ain't nothin' great about birthdays. it's just the day I was born. but if you really wanna celebrate it, I won't stop you. I always welcome presents.

"you know it's rude not to greet the birthday boy." it wasn't unusual to hear snide remarks from leona. in fact, he was ninety percent sure you expected this from your reaction. or the lack of one.

he didn't know why you gave him a birthday gift. but, since you did, it irritated him that you didn't deliver it yourself.

"you don't like it?" tease. even when you're cornered by a predator like himself you find time to dig under his skin. it was entertaining most of the time. right now, it simply pissed him off.

"if you're gonna be so bold as to give me a gift, at least deliver it yourself." huffing, he stood straight, content with getting his point across.

as hard as you tried to remain unbothered by his presence, you failed. your eyes watched him warily, anticipating something but not knowing what.

"leona, I don't know what you're planning but–"

"just thought i'd take the rest of my gift to go."

and, just like that, you were over his shoulder. as far as he's concerned the rest of your schedule is cleared to entertain the birthday boy.

what were you thinking? giving someone like him "coupons" as if he didn't already have someone to do his tedious work. as stupidly endearing your gift is, he intends to use each and every one.

naturally you end up in his room. unnaturally, he placed you down on your feet gently. he snorted at your surprise and handed you a small stack of clothes.

"your ... gym uniform?"

"put it on. you smell like your friends, and cat, I won't be able to sleep peacefully like that."

you scoffed at his reasoning but it was very very believable. leona felt a tinge of guilt for lying but, in his defense, if he was going to use you as a pillow you could at least smell like him.

the shirt was too big and you replaced his pants with your own clean pair of sweats. it seemed to have sufficed, because a moment later the two of you were, what he calls 'platonically cuddling'.

in his eyes, there was nothing platonic.

not the way you gently scratched his hair while scrolling on your phone.

not the way his tail curled around your waist protectively.

not the way he felt so at ease it he's barely conscious long enough to question the feeling before drifting to sleep.

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 ☀︎ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄

what's up? I'm kinda busy collecting birthday voice clips from my game faves. after all, the only people who celebrate for me IRL are, like, my relatives. huh? you came to throw a birthday party? f-for me?! hrk... c-couldn't you give me a ready check or something before springing a raid on me?! i'm totally ungeared, and I haven't even watched a tutorial video yet!

the party wasn't as bad as he expected. just as you predicted, there are people who enjoy the same things he does — he and lilia play the same type of games, ace is a manga nerd — in short, his pop culture skillset was a sufficient substitute for his lack of social exp.

"look at you, increasing buddy levels with npc's. is now a bad time to say i told you so?"

"yes. you can't make fun of me on my b-birthday."

you laughter caused his hair to flare underneath his hood. although the party wasn't as overwhelming as he expected, you were still ... well, you, and you never failed to reduce his HP to zero with a smile.

imagine the damage he took when you suddenly took his hand, dragging him off to who knows where?

it was a critical hit.

"one more surprise." you giggled, opening one of the many doors in your recently renovated dorm. this specific room was decorated with the purpose of gaming.

the pc was decent, dual monitors, a soundbar, and a handful of game systems that cost more than a few thaumarks.

"now you can teach a mere noob like me all about gaming in the magic world."

all of this, to play games with him? it was unbelievable. he didn't deserve it. you were friends with plenty of maxed out characters and there were various love interest routes for you to take, yet, you chose him.

"i am pretty g-good. tutorial videos wouldn't help someone as h-hopeless as you."

it was the first time he spent his birthday with someone that wasn't related to him. teaching the main character (in his eyes) how to play video games. your shoulders were touching, faces inches apart whenever you'd turn to him, listening to him explain this and that.

idia had muted the party. buddy levels with npc's didn't matter when he was filling the romance bar.

#not me writing 🙂‍↕️ been a long time lol #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst fluff #twst x reader #twst x you #twst x gn reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader

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adancingalien · 4 months ago

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𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x bracken!reader

summary: after learning of your impending betrothal to another, you and Benji make a plan to stop it

warning: smut 18+ no use of y/n this fic revolves around pregnancy and has some light breeding kinks towards the end. the reader in this is able to get pregnant and is described as a woman.

word count: 3.9k

note: its finally here! i've really enjoyed writing this fic, its been a while since written one and i've never written smut so if its not the best sorry lol. thank you for everyone's support! i hope you guys like it <3 next time I post it will be on this account @dancingaliensfics so if you like this follow that account. also a couple people asked me to tag them so here you go x @alifeinspiredd @gotranting

It's Early in the morning when your father gives you the news. The sun had risen only an hour prior, the days growing short as winter approached, and your mother sat across from you.

Marriage.

You spend some time considering the thought whilst eating your porridge. In any other case, it would have been good news. The list your father had created so far was filled with well-suited men. You recognised some, two Bracken cousins you knew well, a Mallister boy you’d met at a tourney. They were all reasonable ages, only one was older than thirty and he seemed to be an afterthought. Your father assured you that he'd consider your opinion in his choice.

Truthly you were lucky, if it was a year earlier you'd be excited. But the one name you wanted, the only man you would ever consider marrying, wasn't on the list and never would be.

Benjicot Blackwood.

Heir to Raventree Hall, the seat of your enemy house, the man who'd captured your heart 10 moons ago.

And so you sit in silence, eyes distant, as your father speaks to you of balls and meetings and gifts. Your mother watches you quietly, although what goes through her mind you cannot say. Eventually, the conversation fades to noise as you watch the last streaks of pink fade from the sky.

You meet with Benjicot in the same spot you always do. A field of clover and wildflowers, sheltered from the gaze of Stone Hedge by a small patch of woodland. He brings you a bouquet of dandelions, dittander and hedge bindweed he picked himself along the path. Every time you meet he brings you one and each time he hands it to you with that grin before hiding his face in your neck. You love it, and after all this time you still feel your heart flutter at the sight, no matter how torn and pathetic the blooms themselves usually are.

Gods, you love him. And you're certain you'll never love anyone else the same. Still, you hope he hasn't found the bindweed from near your gardens, it's beautiful but so quickly consumes all other plants.

He flops onto the grass and then beckons for you to do the same. Benji wraps his arms around your side and you lean your head on his chest as he begins to tell you about some skirmish at the hedge stones.

“Those Brackens think they can do whatever they please whenever they choose. You’d think they'd have learnt their lesson after the beating we gave them last time.”

As he speaks you pluck at blades of grass beside you, tearing the seeds from the stem. He often forgets your heritage, as you do his, and the reminder makes you anxious.

“Still,” you mutter, “I wish you wouldn't rush so quickly into battle.”

Benji turns his head to look down at you and you feel his breath on your face. He pauses for a few moments, watching you closely before responding.

“You needn't worry, dove, I can hold my own, especially against some Bracken bastards.” His words are harsh and said with a grin but you can feel the sentiment behind them. Still, his answer doesn't satisfy you.

“You're not the only person I stand to lose in a battle.”

The two of you tend to speak little of the different sides you sit on, choosing instead to focus on your shared qualities. But since your father's announcement that morning, you find your heritage is all you can think of.

His hands tighten on your side and he begins to shift in the way he often does when unsettled. “Tell your bracken brethren to stay on their side of the lines then.”

“Yes because it is such a simple thing, to announce our ties to my whole family!” You turn from him with a huff pulling hard on the piece of grass in your grasp. You regret your words immediately but find yourself unwilling to apologise.

Benji pulls his brows tight, running his fingers over the hem of your skirt. He looks like a scolded dog, his face sullen and eyes moving quickly.

“I’m sorry.” He looks at you softly for a moment. “Will you tell me what's bothering you love? You've been down all day.”

You pause for a while, having pulled away all the grass in your little patch, leaving your fingernails stained green.

“My father gave me news.” You lift your head to look at Benji, his eyes watching you closely. “He's finding me a husband.”

“No.” The response comes quickly and with strong conviction.

Baffled by his response, your brows furrow. “What do you mean no?”

“I simply won't let it happen. You're mine and I'm yours and we were destined to be together, I know it. You will not be with anyone else.”

You pull a pained face, turning away from him. How can he say that with such certainty? That he simply won't let your father marry you off as though it's such a simple thing. It's both endearing and irritating.

“It's not so simple you know.” You look out at the setting sun as you speak, “I've been trying to think of ways to avoid it but truthfully, I have nothing to complain about. What can I say to stop it? I've spent so long thinking of options but nothing seems right.”

Benji takes hold of your hands, gazing at you with such intensity it catches you off guard.

“We'll run away together, you and me, right now.”

Your eyes widen and you stumble on your thoughts. What an idea. It's a pleasant thought really and part of you is compelled to accept, to leap up and run away with Benji in that moment. But it is not this part of you that speaks.

“What- Benji- I cannot, we cannot! Where would we even go.”

“Essos, the free cities, the North, gods I'd go to the Iron Islands if it meant I could marry you. Anywhere in the world where the names bracken and blackwood mean nothing.” your heart skips at the thought, that Benjicot Blackwood would abandon his title and land and family to be with you. Travel to an unknown land and begin again. It's a feeling that quickly spreads through your body leaving you warm and filled with a joy so strong it again compels you to accept and leave in that moment.

You run your fingers over his knuckles, feeling the healed cuts and scrapes that cover them. You consider your own family, of your mother, sat at her window, waiting for you to return home. Your father, sending out his men to fruitlessly search across all of Westeros for his beloved daughter.

“I can't Benji.”

“Then we'll go in a few days instead, you can pack your things, and I'll think of a plan of where to go-”

“No Benji.” you look into his eyes. You see in them a future and a path you cannot take at this moment. “I couldn't do that to my family, couldn't leave them forever and you couldn't either. It would break your mother's heart.”

Your words sour his mood and he visibly shrinks. You take his hands fully in your own and reach over to kiss him softly on the cheek. You can feel slight stubble and realise he must have rushed out after receiving your letter. How you love this man.

It isn’t long before you see a new thought arrive in his mind and it's clear he does no further thinking before sharing it.

“I'll just take you then!”

Truthly, your expectations were not high but you still find yourself floored by the stupidity of his ‘plan’.

“What.” You can simply find no other words.

Benji turns to face you fully, squeezing your hands tightly. He has a crazed look on his face and you wonder if this is what your Bracken brethren see on the battlefield.

“Listen, I’ll simply take you with me to Raventree Hall and we will wed there.” He must notice your unimpressed look as he quickly continues. “That way you don't have to go too far and your family will know you're safe. Sure it'll take some time for those Bracken curs to accept it but eventually they'll have to and then you can see them when you please.”

“Safe? Benji, you've come up with some terrible ideas but this is a new level. It would be war! You really believe that my father, that any bracken would simply accept a blackwood taking their daughter in the night?”

“Then war it would be. I'd kill a thousand men to keep you.”

“A thousand of my men, my blood! Yes, what a beautiful honeymoon it would be, setting the funeral piers of my family.”

He falls silent at this and looks down at his hands. You can see him thinking but he has the sense to keep his thoughts to himself. After a few minutes, you sigh and take his hands back in yours, having dropped them at some point during your rant. Leaning over, you capture his lips in your own for just a moment and when you pull away he follows after you.

“Just… leave it to me. I shall think of a plan for us. We can keep yours as a last resort, yes?”

He brightens at this, happy to trust in your judgement. He agrees quickly before closing the small space between you.

It's a week later when you send a raven summoning Benji. As a child, you had discovered passages within Stone Hedge which had long been forgotten and often used them to pass in and out of the castle. Now you and Benji used them to visit each other in secret. It's a few days before he is able to make his way to Stone Hedge, having been corralled by his father into some dull political nonsense you couldn't care less about. By the time he makes it to you, slipping into your chambers using the passage hidden behind large tapestries, you feel truly desperate for him.

It's overwhelming really, how much you love him. Your entire body aches for him, your mind thinks of him at all times. The thought of marrying another leaves you ill and to imagine laying with a man that isn't Benji is truly mad. He knows you in ways no other has, and, if you get your way, never will. So really it's not a surprise that upon seeing you waste no time in pressing yourself to him. As your lips meet you can feel all the stress of the past days leave your mind and you quickly forget what it was you summoned him for. It seems Benji has found himself in a similar position to you as his hands begin to explore your body through your evening gown. His soft touch turns rough as you run your fingers through the coarse strands of his hair.

You pull away, moving toward to settee. He trails after, lounging next to you with his around your shoulders, fingers toying with your hair.

“I’ve had much time to think,” you say hands resting on your lap. “And I believe I've thought of a solution. It’s mad truly, but it is the best chance we have. I am certain I want it but if you do not you must say and that will be final. It is not a decision to take lightly.”

At your serious tone, Benji straightens and looks at you fully. You are nervous, such a proposal is hardly made easily and yet you feel certain in your bones that he will accept. You know he loves you, there is no doubt about it. You only wonder if he is truly ready for a life together.

“I would do anything to be with you, dove. Tell me and it'll be done.”

You sigh at his words, both from frustration and adoration.

“Do not say such things before you hear the proposal.”

“Then tell me it so that I may say them with informed certainty.”

You look him in the eyes then, struggling to find a way to say what you mean.

“I would have your child.”

Benji pauses at this, and you can see confusion in his eyes before he speaks.

“Yes. when we wed we shall have many children, as many as you wish.”

“No Benji,” you squeeze his hands tightly and push yourself to speak. “My father will never choose you as my husband so we must give him no choice. If I was with child, with your child, he would have to accept a marriage or risk shame upon myself and our house. I know my father well and I am sure he would choose my happiness over tradition.”

At this, Benjicot stops and his face falls blank. It's as if his mind is —- and you wait patiently for his response.

“It is…” he stops and then restarts “I would love nothing more than to have a child with you. It is something I have dreamt of and I truly believe myself ready for such responsibility. I do not doubt the longevity of my love for you. So please do not think it is commitment with gives me pause. It is just…” he begins to play with your fingers, nervous energy flowing through him. He stands quickly, releasing your hands though you are used to his restlessness and simply wait for him to return. He paces in a small circle, running his hand through his hair and then returns to his seat.

“I would not do that to you,” he says finally. You look at him in surprise, his answer seeming nonsensical to you.

“You have done it to me many times.”

“No not that,” he says quickly, covering his face in his hands as he thinks again how to phrase what he means.

“I wouldn't put you through such treatment! As an unwed woman to father a child by you. No, I couldn't dishonour you like that.”

“Dishonour me? Benji, you have dishonoured me more times than I could count. By simply being here in this room you dishonour me. We have laid together, many times. If this was a concern of yours, you should have voiced it long ago.” your words are tinged with amusement.

Benjicot stands again, moving his arms wildly.

“And what of how you would be treated? Not just by your parents but every member of the court, the servants, anyone who knew of it. You would be shamed and shunned by others.”

“You think I care what others say of me?”

“I think you will care when it happens.”

“Do not make assumptions on my behalf. I am my own woman, I can make my own choices. And I do not need you, Benjicot Blackwood, to decide such things for me.”

You pause, breathing deeply in an attempt to remove the heat from your voice. It isn’t your intention to force Benji to do this with you and you fear if you continue to argue your meaning will be lost.

“If your reasons to not go forth are your own, because you do not feel ready or because you do not want to, then that is fine and I will accept it.”

Your attempt to calm the situation backfires miserably and your words light a fire inside of Benji.

“Of course not, didn’t say I would marry you in that field? That I would give up everything to be with you. Do not doubt my love.”

“I do not doubt it, Benji. But if you are willing to give up your titles and home, go through battle and fight hundreds to have me, why can't you trust that I would endure the shame of a pregnancy outside of wedlock for you?”

At last, Benji returns to his spot next to you. He looks into the fire but his gaze is distant.

“I can protect you from danger, from enemies. I can kill any man that threatens you. I can stand with you in fire and pain. But I can’t save you from cruel words and shame. This is… it's something you’ll have to bear alone. And I hate the thought of it.”

At last, you understand his meaning. Benjicot Blackwood is not a man who often loses control. He is fierce and strong and can slay any man who comes in his path.

“I am strong. And I can protect myself, just this once. And you will be stood with, at my side, to give me strength when I fail.”

“I know, I just fear you aren’t ready.”

“I am ready.”

A coy smile spreads across your face.

“Let me convince you.”

At that you kiss him, one hand placed on his cheek and the other on his chest. He quickly reciprocates and you move closer until you can throw one leg over his lap. His hands find your hair, attempting to undo your intricate braids before pulling away in frustration and glaring at the strands. You laugh lightly, moving to remove your pins as he reaches for your neck, leaving a firm bite before his tongue lathes over the area. His ministrations pull a soft moan from your mouth and as he lifts your skirts to run his hand up the soft skin of your thigh, your hair is released.

His other hand quickly finds its way into your hair, fingers weaving into the strands before your head is pulled back allowing better access to your neck. As Benji continues trailing kisses across your neck and chest, you begin to move yourself on his lap, grinding against him as you feel his cock harden beneath his breeches. How you long to feel him inside you, and the thought of him staying even as he reached his peak, seed spilling inside you, has you moving with increased vigour. Benji begins to let out his quiet groans and pants to match your soft moaning and it's not long before he has your behind held firmly in his grip.

His mouth reaches the neckline of your dresses and begins to suck marks onto your skin while you fumble with the fastening of your gown. Once the bodice is undone and the stays are loosened, he pulls them down, taking your breasts into his hands. His mouth quickly latches onto one of your peaks and his tongue swirls around them. He shows you no mercy in his actions, hands pressing so tight they are sure to leave bruises. Benji moves his hand to your core, fingers covering themselves in your wetness before pressing against your clit. They move quickly, circling your bud for some time before travelling towards your hole. His thumb moves to take its place, pressing firmly against you as it rubs. His fingers prod gently at your hole, before one slips inside. He stays like this, easing his finger inside of you until you're ready to take another. His fingers move inside of you for a few minutes, your walls clenching around them as they stroke, before they increase in speed, beginning to curl deep inside of you. Benji continues to assault your chest, relishing in the moans and whines he pulls from your lips.

It isn't long, however, before he pulls away from your chest to speak.

“I need you, my love.” he lifts your chin so that your eyes meet. You lean forward and kiss him, giving your answer through your actions. He removes his fingers from you, wiping them on your dress much to your disgust before standing, holding you with his hands beneath your ass and your legs around his waist.

He moves quickly towards the bed and, though he's strong, you can see him focusing on not dropping you. You take the chance to join your lips to his neck, leaving your marks there. Although you know him to be faithful to you, you can’t stand the thought of any Blackwood whore making a pass at him and the hickeys serve to claim him as yours. Gods, you think, you must stop thinking in such ways, you’ll be a Blackwood yourself soon. The thought leaves you giddy and you grin at his neck. Benji drops you rather unceremoniously onto the bed before staring at you with a bemused look on his face.

“What you grinning about him?”

“Just the thought that I will soon be your wife.”

His grin widens at that and he leans down to capture your lips once again.

“Yes, my wife and I'll be your husband.”

You kiss him again, biting his lip and tugging on it slightly.

“All mine.” your words pull a deep moan from him.

It isn’t long before both of you have stripped completely and you find yourself lying back on the sheets, Benji between your legs. He moves quickly above you, rubbing his cock against your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit with every stroke. You moan wantonly, fingers reaching up to pull Benji towards your lips by the hair. Your firm grip causes him to groan deeply into your mouth and his movements increase in speed. It isn't long though before you pull away.

“Benji, darling, I need you inside of me please.”

You're expecting him to tease you, and make a joke about your begging and neediness but instead, he lets out a long breath, before reaching down and taking himself in hand. He runs the tip of his cock along your wetness once more before pressing inside of you. Your body accepts him eagerly and it isn't long before he fills you. How could you ever marry another when even your body is moulded perfectly to him? The sounds of your pleasure harmonise as Benji begins to move inside of you. His thrusts are fast and deep as always, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. You feel your mind slipping as your sounds increase in volume. Your hands roam his whole body. Filthy words spill from your lips.

“Benji please my love- ah- I must have you. Please”

“You have me sweet one, you have me.”

You pull roughly on his hair at his words.

“No I must have all of you, please I need your seed. I want you to cum inside me.”

His hips stutter before his thrusts continue with increased fervour.

“Fill me please Benji, it will feel so good.”

Benji lays his head in the crook of your neck moaning without restraint. You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly and want him to cum with you. You lift your legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, moaning, turning to shrieks.

“I love you so much Benji,” you cry out, fingernails leaving scratches down his back. “I love you and I want your baby, please cum inside me.”

At your words, Benji lets out a choked sound, hips pressing firm against you, and feels the warmth of his release spill inside of you, pulling you to your peak alongside him. Your eyes squeeze shut, but if they hadn’t you would have seen the most delightful look on Benji’s face and he finished inside of you. It takes some time for his cock to stop twitching and even longer for the both of you to come back to the world of the living. Benji begins to lift himself off of you, but you tighten your legs.

“Stay.”

A simple command that he follows without question.

#benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #davos blackwood #benjicot x reader #davos blackwood x reader #hotd

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peachesofteal · 5 months ago

Note

Sometimes I think about Dr. Riley sitting in his office, fidgeting with a pen staring out of the window, waiting for something... someone. There's a storm coming.

I still think about Dr Riley.

I think about him having a very inappropriate relationship with his patient, Clover. Clover who got her nickname because her special ops team thought she was sooo lucky… until she wasn’t. Until she made a mistake, miscalculated, and got two of her teammates killed. Clover, who had to look Captain Garrick in the eyes as he told her to take indefinite leave until she got her head on straight.

Clover can’t think or eat or sleep without hear the high pitch whine of a drone in her ear. Public places make her skin crawl. She can hardly function. Manages to feed herself and slink down to her building’s gym in the middle of the night, when no one else is there. She runs herself ragged, to the point of exhaustion, and only then can she manage sleep.

The train is late.

The tardiness makes everyone on the platform uneasy. They shift and grimace, fingers fidgeting, eyes roaming.

It’s grey down here. Grey up there, too. A city blanketed in rain, thick cottony fog obscuring streets and buildings, rolling through day, washing it into night without giving the sun it’s singular chance.

It’s grey everywhere. Grey in your bones, in your head. Grey cotton stuffed between your ears to stop the bleeding.

You try to let the anxieties of the delay drift past you, like a warm breeze, but it feels like a winter’s wind instead. Icy. Vicious. Cutting to the bone.

You’re a dog at the end of a chain. Ready. Waiting for the signal. Captain’s orders.

Relax. You’re at home. Waiting for the call. Going to finish therapy, so you can finally get out of here.

The yellow line of the boundary lays straight in front of you. You count the cracks in the concrete and wonder what would happen if you took a step off the edge.

Just one.

A single step.

Would these people try to save you? Would they scream and run? Would they watch you die, body exploded into bits by a train that couldn’t stop? How long would it take you ID you? Who would they call?

It’s not that you want to die. You’re more… curious about it now. Morbidly so. Wondering when it will happen, if death is following you around, waiting to collect his due.

You steady with a long breath, attention focused on the wall across the tracks, counting each tile. Your eyes are still sharp, as sharp as ever, and you focus in on each one individually, judging the distance, imagining a scope in your line of sight, smooth trigger under your finger.

There’s a collective sigh across the platform when the train squeaks to a halt, and you intentionally board last, watching the backs and profiles of everyone else. Back packs, long jackets, anxious faces are all catalogued and sorted, filtered and stacked into neat little piles.

You tug at a piece of skin around your nail, trying to tear it down to the cuticle. The delay has made you uneasy, nervous. Not at all like you used to be. Not at all like your old self.

This will be it this time, you coach, train car pulling away and rocketing into darkness. You’ll get it this time. It’s almost over.

“Hi, sorry I have an appointment at ten, with…” you check your calendar. “Dr. Riley? I know I’m late…” the woman at the desk smiles. It’s clinical, just like every other time. You don’t think she likes you much, you’re not like her. Not like any of them.

“That’s alright, it’s just this way.” She leads you through a maze of hallways, coming to a stop at one dark, wooden door. “Dr. Riley? Your ten o’clock is here.”

It opens to the biggest man you’ve ever seen, clad in jeans and a black hoodie. Is this… is this the shrink?

He says your name. When you don’t answer, he says it again, a little louder. His Manchester accent is full of grit, a mouth full of rocks, but there’s something warm in it too, something spinning you in a soft cocoon of yarn.

“H-hi.” He extends his hand, a massive palm, dwarfing yours.

“I’m Dr. Riley, come in. Thanks, Laura.” He bids the receptionist goodbye, and clicks the door shut behind her, turning with a motion to the couch. “Take a seat. I was just about to call you.”

“I’m sorry, the train was delayed and-“ He holds up his hand, a motion to stop.

“You made it, that’s what matters.” Your hands shake, and you clutch them in your lap. It’s a side effect, they tell you. It’s supposed to go away, but you’ve stopped counting the days.

He’s not what you expected. Your last doctor in this building was an old man who wore a dress shirt and slacks. Dr. Riley looks like he’s in his forties. He’s built out like a solider, broad shoulders and broad chest filling out his casual clothes, glasses reflecting his focused gaze. There are scars on his face, faded white streaks on his upper lip, cheek and jaw. His nose has been broken and repaired, and there’s a patch of his eyebrow missing, like it’s been burned away. He’s part shadow, part marble, full lips, sandy brown hair, chiseled jaw, ocean eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” He begins, glancing at the laptop screen.

“I need to pass my psych eval, sir.” You focus on the question, and not the lone drone rattle rolling through your skull.

“There’s no rank in this office.” Oh, duh. “Why do you need to pass an eval?”

“I’m ready to return to my job. Just need to pass this last step.” Sir. You bite the honorific off just in time.

“If you can’t pass a psych eval, I’d say the conclusion is you’re not ready.” Your spine straightens at the authority in his voice. “And you’re not here for an eval.” Wait, what?

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not here for an evaluation, you’re here for therapy.”

“N-no, sir- ah, Dr. Riley,” his lips tilt, a fraction, and your knees press together involuntarily. “I’ve already had therapy.” He ignores your protest.

“You’ve failed three evaluations in the last two months. You can’t just keep throwing it all the wall, hoping it will stick. You need care.” The room pitches, and you’re trapped on a tilt-a-whirl, locked into a too loud, too bright carnival ride, sirens and screams screeching in the distance.

He says your name again.

“Sorry.” The tablet folds into a laptop, balanced on a broad knee.

“Tell me about them.”

“About…”

“The psych evals. Failing three in such a short time window is a feat.” You blanche. You hate that word, fail. It stings. It’s an affront to you, you who doesn’t fail. You who was the top of her class, first selected, first pick. Your captain depends on you, your team counts on you, to not fail. At anything. Ever.

“I… I struggled with them.” There are photos on the wall, framed medals and degrees. A picture of a German shepherd, and a hanging house plant of some kind, spritely and green, leaves and vines twisting from its perch.

“Let’s start today talking about why you’re struggling with them, then.”

“I don’t know why. If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” You’re peevish, and he raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m just… stressed. My team-“

“is operating in the field without you.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s causing you stress.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why?” What is this?

“Why is it causing you stress? Do you not trust them to operate successfully without you?”

“No… I do.”

“What about your captain? Do you not trust him to lead them?”

“Of course I do.” Your fingers tighten on the chair. “I do. But they’re down a man, and they can’t be down for too long.”

“I’m sure your team cares more about you getting the care need, over rushing back into engagement too soon.”

“I know, but I’m ready.”

“You’re not. And I know your captain, Garrick? He wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your wellbeing.” How does he know cap?

“You know captain Garrick?” Dr. Riley smiles.

“I do. And like I said, he wouldn’t want you passed through if you weren’t ready.” He’s got you pinned, metaphorically. Back against the mat, shoulders immobilized. You can’t crawl your way free, can’t fight or twist out of his grip. “Do you want to talk about why you’re on leave?”

“No! No, I… don’t need to.” You complain. “I’ve had eight counseling sessions in the last two months.”

“They’ve clearly helped.” He drawls, glancing at you over the laptop. The eye contact rakes a shiver down your spine, and you find your feet.

“I don’t want to talk about it again, sir.” You whisper it to the ground, silently begging he won’t make you.

“There’s no rank here.” He reminds, voice soft and understanding. “But I’m your clinician now, and I won’t sign off on you taking another psychological evaluation until I’m confident you’re healthy enough to return to work.”

“Can I ask…” you taper off, but he nods to encourage you. “Can I ask why I’ve suddenly been switched to a new doctor?”

“You failed an eval three times. The practice decided you needed a different approach to care.” There’s a pause, and the laptop shuts. His hands settle across his thighs. “Let’s talk about what they call you.”

“Sir?” His lips press together but deigns to remind you a third time about rank.

“Clover.” Oh.

“Yeah, that’s what my team calls me. Only my mum uses my real name anymore.” You joke, and he smiles in a small way, gaze unreadable, bearing down onto you from above.

“Is there meaning behind it?”

“I used to be considered good luck.”

“Used to be?” You blink. Used to be. Like you used to be someone else.

“I guess… my luck ran out.” He nods thoughtfully.

“Why do you think that?” Because you fucked up? You got your friends killed? Because you got into a jam you couldn’t get out of? Because you were tortured into an unrecognizable piece of human pulp?

“I… I don’t know.”

“You do.” He states matter of fact, leveling you easily. You gape.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mutter, looking towards your knees.

“How about mirrors?”

“What?”

“How do you feel about mirrors?” The question sets you aback. It’s never been asked, not in your previous sessions, not by anyone. No one knows about the mirrors in your flat, covered by shirts and sheets and dish towels. Turned away, forced into corners. The bathroom vanity obscured by a long white bedsheet; your reflection hidden at every turn.

“I… I don’t like them.” The honesty on your tongue tastes good, but it burns.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I don’t like to look at myself, now.” The laptop reopens, and he types in silence for a long moment. The quiet settles around the two of you, ticking of a second hand clicking away in your ear.

“I’m going to give you some homework.” Homework?

“What kind of homework?”

“I want you to look in a mirror.” You draw a sharp breath. “When you’re at home, and you’re alone, I want you to really look at yourself, see yourself, for as long as you can. If it’s only a few seconds, it’s only a few seconds. There’s no time requirement. The only thing you have to do… is look.”

“Dr. Riley…” you laugh nervously, and he meets your eyes with a serious expression.

“Only for a few seconds. Can you do that?” No.

“I can… I can try.” You can do whatever he wants, if it will get him to pass you on the eval. If it will get you out of here.

“Good.” The watch on his wrist glints in the afternoon sun. “I’ll give you my number. Text me when your homework is done.”

“Okay.” That’s it? He stands, and you look away, unable to focus on anything but the edge of the table, brown wood slatted together and worn with age.

“You can run away now.” He murmurs, standing between you and the door. “This was good, Clover. I know it’s not easy. You did well today.” Words catch in your throat, caustic and rough. Still, you try to get them out.

“T-thanks.”

You try to do your homework that night.

You stand in front of the bathroom mirror in your pajamas, one hand on a hem, waiting to pull free and reveal your reflection.

You can do this. You can. Just do it.

The tug never comes.

You stare at the white sheet until your eyes start to cross.

Better luck tomorrow.

You hold steady in your routines. Eating. Walking. Stretching. Strength. You do yoga in the evenings, weights in the mornings. You spend too much time in your building’s gym, mindlessly pounding out miles on the treadmill, headphones blaring at full volume. You do it all robotically.

You’re outside of your body. Out of your mind.

But you could still pull a trigger.

Sometimes, when you can stand it, you take your walks outside, bypassing those who linger on sidewalks, cutting through parks and alleys. Fresh air and sunlight are supposed to help, but you don’t think it does any good. The rot is still there, curled up in your bones, blackened and sticky, festering like an infection. It’s a monster inside your body, a monster you now share your life with, cutting away pieces, long after being freed from the cell.

You eat. You walk. You try to look in the mirror.

With three days before your next session with Dr. Riley, you still haven’t managed to complete your homework. You try, in the hall, in your bedroom, again and again in the bathroom, but it never happens, you can’t quite get yourself to cross the bridge.

Failure.

Dr. Riley is waiting for you in the lobby on the day of your next appointment.

“Hi Clover.” He smiles, and it’s genuine, warm, almost wrapping around your shoulders.

“Hi, Dr. Riley.”

“How was your week?” You lag him, letting him guide you to the office, where the yellow lights are dim and darkened, casting shadow across the brown couch where you take your seat.

“It was fine.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, really. I’ve been at the gym a lot, trying to keep myself in shape for when I go back.”

“Exercise is good as long as you’re not overdoing it. Do you do anything else?”

“Um, I take walks outside.” His leg shifts, ankle on knee, and then his hand folds over his thigh. Something akin to interest brightens in your heart but is desperately snuffed out. He’s your therapist. “I walk in the park a lot.”

“Oh yeah? Which?”

“The one off of eighth.”

“I walk there too, nice park. Lots of trails.” You try to imagine him in joggers, taking a stroll. “I’m going to guess; you didn’t do your homework?” Heat unfurls across your face.

“I tried, but…”

“That’s okay. I thought we could try today, if you feel up to it.” Here? Now? Your eyes go wide. You look around.

“I don’t see a mirror.”

“There’s one on wheels down the hall, the occupational therapists use it all the time. Can I bring it in?” Your stomach twists up, nausea tossing your lunch from side to side.

“I uh… I don’t know.”

“You can do it. I know you can.” You hedge, unsure. Can you? Will you?

You can try.

“Okay.”

“Alright, close your eyes. I’ll be right back.” The door opens and shuts, and then opens again, wheels rolling close. You clench your eyes closed so tight it nearly hurts.

Warm fingers grab yours.

“It’s over here.” He murmurs, leading your blind steps away from the couch, coming to a stop… somewhere. “Whenever you’re ready.” You can’t feel him anymore, but you know he’s there, at your back. There’s a faint ruffle of air through your hair, against your neck. “Take a deep breath.”

You focus on the pace of your lungs, the expansion, the give and take of your ribcage.

“I can’t.” You whisper. You’re floating in space, unable to pull the trigger.

A kind hand on your shoulder brings you back.

“You can do it. Try.” The encouragement, the belief is a vine in your heart. Alive and green, it sows roots as deep as it can manage, clinging to fibrous flesh and hollowing you out. It catches on valves and ventricles, spiraling forward in a complicated web like an anchor.

You see him first, in the mirror. Stare straight back at him, falling into his gaze, vibrating in his hold like a child’s wind-up toy.

“Not me. You.” He says gently, and when you can, you bear it.

You almost gasp. It’s been two months since you’ve seen your own face, your complexion, your nose and your eyes and your chin. You’re long healed, bones set perfectly, everything right as rain. You look normal. You look fine. It’s the most shocking thing, to see yourself looking healthy, pieced back together, nearly whole. Your lower lip trembles with effort to hold yourself at bay, to keep yourself from breaking apart, drifting back towards the moon.

“That’s it. Great job, Clover.” His hand still rests on your shoulder, but you shake with a violence now, a torrent of emotion, threatening to cut you off at the knees. “It’s okay.” He whispers.

When you can’t stand it any longer, you close your eyes.

“How did you know?” You’re resettled on the couch, hands tucked under your thighs.

“Know what?”

“That I hadn’t looked in a mirror… since…”

“I know a thing or two, about coming back different. I know how it feels when you don’t want to see yourself.” You glance at the medals on the wall, primly tacked to a plush pillow, encased in glass, and wonder.

“Did you work with captain Garrick?”

“We were in a task force together, before I retired early to do this.” He smiles, easy and light, but there’s something guarded in it, something sharp, shark’s teeth aiming for docile flesh. It purrs, and makes you want to pull back more layers. Gives you something else to focus on, something else to fall into, but it’s gone before you can really study him.

“Oh.” It’s all you can say as he types something on the laptop, and then puts it away.

“That’s all for today. I’ll see you next week then?”

#peaches writes #Dr Riley

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thedivinetarot · 14 days ago

Text

Yes or No?

☆ How to chose the perfect pile for you?

Okay, in this reading I'm going to only answer the question in your head with a yes or no with a clear statement of why. So, ask the question in your head and chose the color in the palette that you are drawn to.

☆ Note:

This is a general reading. Don't put your life on hold for it.

Pile 1 - Blue ice

Ans: No

Idk what is your question but they are telling you that you need to be cautious. And also try to heal from that disappointment. I see that even though the event/ situation you have been through ended but still there's a residue of that negative energy.

Pile 2 - star

Ans: yes

There's a high chance it will happen naturally, you don't have to get in the middle or change the circumstances in order for that to happen. You need to be more "demure" and relax. It is going to take time but it will happen eventually. I'm also seeing that it will be "fixed" so don't worry.

Pile 3 - Purple horseshoe

Ans: yes, there's a high chance

I see that the clarity that you are seeking towards that situation will come to you. But in the beginning I feel like you'll feel like the truth is blocked? But anyways; it will happen and it will give you a moment of realization.

Pile 4 - Pink heart

Ans: yes

And a man will help you to get what you want. I'm not sure why but I feel this is about something related to law and court. You'll win don't worry. Also, I see you’ll get it because you worked hard for it.

Pile 5 - Lucky clover

Ans: yes but you have to work for it.

The hardships will be gone soon. But you need to nurture that goal in order for you to get that. You have to work hard and above all have resilient and stamina for it. It also won't come to you easily.

Pile 6 - Blue moon

Ans: probably yes

I see that thing will change over time but you need to have faith and above all get more emotional stability to get that. Try to balance your emotions. And shall that dream come true for you💕.

Post date: 8th of Nov-2024 on Fri

* Feedback is appreciated

#free divination #free tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #divination #divination readings #metaphysical #tarot pac #tarotblr #tarot reading #yes or no #yes or no tarot

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asocialangel · 6 months ago

Note

soulmate give away pt2 with characters like Reo and Chigiri? :)

My pleasure ! Thank you for asking, i hope you like it, lovelyyyyy

Ion think i'd do a part 3 cause i'm running out of ideas so bad aa

soulmate give away (pt 2)

What made the bllk boys realize you might be their soulmate.

Do you believe in soulmates ? To be fair, sometimes, some signs can be considered as dead giveaways that you and he are meant to be.

super shorts hc, gender neutral with reo, chigiri, sae, kunigami, bachira and nagi. fluffy ig ? part 1 includes: isagi, kurona, shidou, rin, kaiser and barou.

ꕥ

Reo: Makes you want to be a better person. For an unexplainable reason, just being around him makes you feel complete and makes you want to reach higher horizons. It’s like when you’re him you know your potential can be accomplished.

Chigiri: Has watched the same underground, unknown, arthouse unfamous movie as you did. When you guys realized you quoted the same quote, you were really, really confused and couldn't believe it. How come you and him both knew about this movie with like 17 streams AND both happen to really like it ? You called it an invisible string.

Sae: You have his lucky charm he lost when he was a teenager. So basically up until he was 15 he had this clover keychain that was his (secret) lucky charm. Until he lost it, randomly dropping it in the metro. You picked it up and it became YOUR lucky charm. When you met him, he recognized it instantly. Your destinies liked each other enough to bring you guys to meet again.

Bachira: You feel the same things regardless of how far apart you are. He’ll be yawing in Brazil and so will you be in Madagascar. You sneeze in the shower, so will he on the field. Sad for no reason ? He’s probably currently watching a k-drama. Ain't that a compassionate soul for ya ?

Kunigami: There is electricity whenever you touch. Literally static electric shocks every time you guys brush against each other. If you let go for just one second, the next time you touch you’ll feel a spark again.

Nagi: You guys get each other. As in you GET each other. Without a word, you know what the other one is thinking and without a word, act consequently. Even when you were classmates, even when you were just friends. It’s like you share the same mind. People started thinking you guys had made a secret code at this point.

A/N: yayy i don't think i've ever answered an ask this fast !!! It's not that good but i was really surprised it got a bit of love~~ Isagi smut coming sooooon (my frist 'smut' nd it's not even that smutty kkkkk)

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northstarscowboyhat · 6 months ago

Note

Well, now I'm imagining Clover having a rebellious teenage phase

I think the rebellious teenage attitude probably lasted for five seconds. Doesn't stop Clover from sneaking out or attempting to be more independent and doing things their family doesn't approve of, but I don't think they give Starlo too much attitude (and definitely not Ceroba LOL).

Honestly, I don't think you can take the cowboy out of this kid, they're just as committed to the western bit as Starlo is LOL. Maybe one time the family was going out while Clover was a teenager and dealing with the anxiety of being socially perceived and judged that a lot of teens struggle with that they got a little embarrassed wearing their cowboy hat, and Starlo was so devastated at the thought that it quickly nipped that insecurity in the bud LOL. I think having a dad who's entire job is being a cowboy larper probably helps them not feel ashamed of their interest and commitment to dressing up as a cowboy.

#undertale yellow #uty #uty au #clover #clover uty #starlo uty #starlo #north star #lucky clover au #the cowboy hat draws #Starlo would absolutely be shattered if he had a kid who didn't want to play cowboys though #He's very lucky he ended up with a kid like Clover #Also unless I'm mistake I don't think you get a notification for anonymous asks being answered?#So I might start grouping similar asks together in one post rather than making several different ones linking to the one art I drew

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faetima · 7 months ago

Text

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 . .

. . maybe you weren't as lucky as you thought you were?

// tws ; blood !! slight swearing ; gn reader ; modern & high school au, hanahaki au

a/n: decided to write about aventurine despite the poll i'm sorry 😞 anyways lucky girl syndrome by illit is SO GOOD

you had always considered yourself lucky; whether that pertained to getting great deals, having great luck in board games, or just guessing test answers correctly. you had almost never had bad luck, and all your friends and family knew.

you were referred to as their own personal four-leaf clover, bringing good luck wherever you went.

so why did your luck suddenly falter and fail you? why did your good luck suddenly turn bad?

those were the thoughts that plagued your mind as you, hunched over a trash can, hurled up bitter pink peonies.

how could a flower that symbolized such good fortune and prosperity sprout from such a horrible condition?

coughs wracked your feeble body as more of the bubblegum colored flowers flopped into the trash can, clumped together with mucus and scarlet blood.

you gasped for air, finally able to breathe for the most part. small petals elegantly floated down and sat on top of the mucus coated flowers, sprinkled with the slightest hint of blood.

shakily you backed away, arms wrapped around your knees, of which were brought up to your head.

you buried your face in your arms, sobbing.

why did this have to happen to you? so many people in the world, yet you had to be the one spewing up damned peonies just because of a stupid unrequited love.

you wished you had never been put in the same class as aventurine, that you had never heard his laugh, never seen his stupidly pretty purple eyes or his blonde hair, never heard his voice, never laid your fucking eyes on him.

you were too scared to get the surgery--what if it failed? if your luck was failing you now, what if it backfired when you were getting the surgery too?

if you were going to die either way, you wanted to at least remembered the person while you did.

you changed your mind--that idea was fucking stupid.

you should've gotten the surgery when you could've, but now it was too little too late.

why did you even want to remember him? he didn't even know your damn name. he didn't even know you existed.

if only you weren't so scared to talk to him (or anyone else for that manner).

maybe if you weren't such a coward you could've been besides him right now or walking with him or watching as he gambled his luck away or talking with him or--

another cough tore you away from your thoughts. you heaved out yet another mucus covered peony. it flopped onto the ground ungracefully, staining your newly polished floors an ugly red from the blood on it.

the sickly sweet smell floral smell of peonies filled the room, making you nauseous and dizzy.

you definitely weren't as lucky as you thought you were.

weak coughs wracked your fragile body.

it was hard to breathe.

you felt as if the room was spinning around you, barley able to form a single thought as your oxygen was being cut off.

you laid there on your bed, suffocating slowly on rosy pink peonies.

maybe two lucky people just aren't meant to be together.

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atarathegreat · 2 months ago

Text

You're Really F***ing Dumb. Levi Ackerman.

Levi always had a habit of micromanaging, especially over you and the relationship he held with you. There was no need for Levi to hide his habits. Who was going to stop him? Eren? Not when Eren was the current issue and Levi wanted nothing more than to kick his teeth in.

There was no reason for you to be so upset with him, not over him not taking you to some new boba shop that sold, what you professionally called, "the world's best cup of fucking boba you will ever have!" More than one day you had gone on your own and come home with at least three cups in varying shades of green and blue. Why should he go with you when you went alone every other day? You seemed content with the routine.

Being a CEO wasn't as free as many would think. Levi was a busy man. Meetings, paperwork, checking in on all the departments and making sure that everything was running smoothly, not to mention that it was tax time, and everyone was quitting, so he had to handle interviews and hiring new people. Why did you assume he had the time to just parade around town with some silly drink in his hand?

You clearly didn't see it the same way. Day after day, you were being driven home by Eren, who was the head of one of Levi's higher departments in the business. You would come in with one cup of what you called "Lucky Clover and Golden Bomb." Some green milk drink with golden Boba bubbles in the bottom. It looked cute, and Levi liked the pictures you'd post on your social media, but he wasn't a fan of the sweet flavor like you were.

"Why is Eren driving you home?" Levi couldn't curb his curiosity any longer one night during dinner. It was strange. Seemingly out of the blue, you stopped asking him to go with you, stopped asking him to drive you around, stopped asking him to be in your social media pictures. It was... troubling. Even more so if that idiot Yeager was the reason.

"He's been taking me to get boba in the afternoon."

The way you said it, as if it were no big deal, as if it was just another of your girlfriends taking you to get coffee and gossip, that pissed him off. Levi jerked over the table and grabbed your throat, just tight enough that you knew better than to pull away, "He's what?"

No. No, no, no. That wasn't allowed. You were his. His alone. Yeager had no right to even breath the same air as you, let alone drive you around and get boba tea with you. Did you think this was funny? Were you pushing him for a reaction?

Well, you got your reaction.

Levi tightened his hand in your hair, slamming his cock into your throat and grunting when you gagged tightly around him. "Eren touch you like this? Does he take control of you like this?" Levi growled with a sharp thrust into your mouth, "Does he give your pretty little mouth the drink you want?" You couldn't answer, not with your mouth full of his fat cock, but Levi didn't care. The second you tried to even whine a protest, he slapped your cheek, "Shut up and keep sucking."

All you had wanted was someone to go to the boba shop with you, someone you could recommend drinks to and gossip with. None of your friends were big fans of the boba place, but you thought it was like Heaven had opened their doors from eight in the morning to six in the afternoon. The attempt to get Levi to go was so that you could share something you liked with him. As many men do, Levi wasn't looking into deeper meanings. Not the way you were.

"Get ready," Levi's deep voice was hoarse, husky, made fire pool in the bottom of your gut, "you're gonna swallow every last fucking drop. You hear me? Every fucking drop." Levi planted another harsh slap to your cheek, "If you can drink a large boba, you can drink my cum."

He wasn't wrong, and normally you could swallow every last salty ounce of what Levi managed to force over your tongue. But he kept moving his hips, kept thrusting into the warm embrace of your lips, causing his cum to seep out the edges of your mouth. It wasn't his fault; you both knew that. Even with him thrusting as hard as he could, you could still get every drop. Maybe you did it just to get the punishment.

Levi slammed deep into your mouth, forcing your nose to his groin, "Mm-mm. You broke the rule."

A high-pitched squeal burst free from your chest as Levi threw you on the couch, his hand following quickly after to smack your ass as hard as he could. "Levi!" The protest was loud and whiney, but Levi knew you would say the safe word if you needed it. So, he smacked the back of your thigh with a harsh "shut up."

Stamina wasn't an issue for Levi, neither was sensitivity. By the third round, Levi had you brain dead, and he was fisting himself to keep himself hard. "You can take it. You will take it. You hear me?" He slammed back into your waiting hole, grunting at the soft pain that ran up the underside of his penis, "I ever catch you getting out of Yeager's car again and I will keep you so dumb you'll think my spunk is boba, understand? You'll beg for me to stop."

His harsh words and sharp slaps were enough to drown out any rational thought. You were lost and swimming in the haze that was pleasure and pain.

"...Polka..."

It was like his whole body went rigid, his cock flaccid, and he jerked away from you. Levi was a damn good dominant, because no matter how hard he went on you, he was even sweeter afterwards.

Levi gently turned you on your side and plucked you from the couch, his voice low as he carried you, "You did good. Took everything I gave you perfectly, I'm proud."

It was always the same routine, but you didn't get bored of it, ever. Levi placed you in the bath, fixing his pants as the faucet filled the porcelain basin. There was something almost cathartic about watching you relax after such a rough session. It was as if Levi was everything you needed in life; gentle and rough, punishing and nurturing. You didn't need Eren.

Yeah... Levi would be taking you to the boba shop from now on...

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