#and added finger waves lmao

[juniper-clan]

Heronstar humansona is secretly Nier Automatca????

[winnie1emon]

✧.* now what happens when you find a frustrated theodore nott on the quidditch pitch...?

theodore nott x prefect!lamb!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.4k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, sexual language, praise, piv, fingering, unprotected sex, face painting lmao, slight exhibitionism(?)(on the quidditch stands lol)

a/n: first smut fic like ever i fear... don't bully please </3 + been working on this sleep-deprived, lmk about spelling mistakes :(

"Hey- hey!" you said loudly over the raging music, leaning over your friend's shoulder. "I'm gonna go; got prefect duty!"

Your friend, too engrossed in your house's quidditch victory party after they had beaten Slytherin earlier that evening, gave you a mere nod before realizing you actually said something. "Really? There are other prefects out anyways and you never find anyone. Don't be lame, just stay!"

"No, it's fine. I like walking outside anyways, it's fun," you explained, garnering a rather dismissive wave goodbye from your friend.

You trudged down the corridors searching for the way out of the castle. Curfew was approaching and you were given the task of finding a few stragglers outdoors; a task you most appreciated due to the fact you'd never find anybody and you were usually lucky with receiving ample amounts of good weather.

Too comfortable with the usual, you spent most of your patrol time frolicking on the grassy fields and never looked too carefully for any students. You were about to head back inside when you saw the broom shed's door open. Curiously, you peered inside and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary...

A bit daunted, you closed the door and suddenly saw movement in the corner of your eye. You whipped around quickly, seeing someone flying on the quidditch pitch. You made your way into the pitch, assuming it was some overzealous lowerclassman riding on their broomstick.

As you made your way into the pitch, you realized how large it really was, somewhat awestruck. Hearing a distressed grunt, you turned around and saw the person who was flying, quite a distance away, chuck their broom onto the ground. You hastened over and the image came into view. Their brunette waves became clearer with each step you took and you managed to get their attention.

"H-hey!" You waved. You came to a stop in front of them, slightly huffing as they looked at you acutely. "Theodore, it's curfew in like... oh, two minutes ago."

Theodore raised an eyebrow at your words, seeming as if he had no idea who you were. "What?" he asked you, even though he heard what you said.

"It's past curfew, you can't be here," you said patiently. "What are you even doing here?"

"What's it look like?" he retorted. "Practicing," he added before you could answer his rhetoric question.

"Well... you should practice tomorrow. You already had that game today, you should take a break," you suggested.

He gave you what was probably the most condescending look ever, roaming over your figure. "Yeah, and we lost, princess. Need to practice."

"Don't overwork yourself," you said, your voice tinged with concern. "You were great today, I saw!"

"Mhm, probably cheering on your house, yeah?" he sneered. "Just get lost, I'm not harmin' anyone by practicing, but you're going to tell someone aren't you?" He looked a bit taut and you couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for him. After all, he wasn't the worst player on his team yet he was the only one here practicing, probably losing hairs in the process.

"No, I won't tell anyone," you said quickly. "You look exhausted though. At least sit down." You trailed all the way to one of the tall wooden towers going up to the quidditch spectator stands, feeling the wooden bench poke your thighs. Surprisingly, he sat beside you on your right with a grunt, running his hands through his hair.

Well, now what.

You peered at him in wonderment as his gaze was set straight, admiring his birthmark. Your eyes trailed around the side of his face, looking at his thick, dark brows and then at his slightly unkempt hair. He turned suddenly to face you and you darted your head away, embarrassed. He let out a small scoff, throwing his head down in a smirk.

"So," you started. "You like quidditch?" you asked dumbly. He obviously did... he plays.

"I do," he responded. "When we win."

"You guys almost did," you consoled him, tentatively reaching to rub his shoulder.

Theodore didn't protest, finding the way your palm's touch warmed his shoulder unexpectedly comforting. He looked at your seemingly apologetic face before his eyes wandered down your form, going from your neck and then down to your legs.

"Mm, almost."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you spoke up again. "Yeah, almost! Almost is good!" You reassured him. "Don't beat yourself up-- you're already so stressed." You recalled the instances in class where he'd focus on his work, the times you saw him in the library as you patrolled the halls, and the way he never seemed to hang out with his friends this past week.

"Oh princess," he said, calling you that nickname again, making you turn a light shade of pink. "When has almost winning ever helped anyone? What can I do about the stress? Nothing's going to change if I don't work." He gave a nonchalant shrug, breaking contact with your sorry eyes as he buried his head in his hands.

"Uhm... I mean, do you want help?" You peered at him, wide-eyed and full of pity.

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

And that's how you found yourself sitting on the open quidditch stands, thighs squeezed together with your head downcast as Theodore rubbed lazy circles over your underwear.

"I-I don't really see how this is supposed to help you," you mumbled.

He used his other hand to hold your chin gently, guiding your head to face him. "You think seeing a pretty girl like you lookin' like this doesn't help me?" he simpered. You felt your face heat up from the compliment, shifting your thighs to press against each other some more.

He let go of your chin and you looked down to watch him spread your thighs apart gently. Despite never being his friend, his touch felt familiar, even soothing. In fact, you didn't protest against him, even when you felt him slip your underwear to the side and insert a thick finger into your cunt.

Your mouth agape, you turned to look at him, brows knitting together as he met your gaze with a lascivious smile. You pressed your lips together to try and catch your breath, but it only lasted a few seconds as your lips parted once he entered another digit into you. He moved slowly, not taking his eyes off of yours, drinking in your dazed look.

You felt his pace increase, his fingers going in and out of your now glossy cunt rapidly, and let out a shaky moan which made Theodore's mouth contort in a wicked smile. You threw your head back, looking up at the greying sky. He leaned closer to you, his warm breath hitting your ear as he whispered.

"Feels good, yeah? Feels good to help me decompress hm?" He asked you quietly, having you squirm from his touch. You nodded meekly and let out a small yeah in response.

You had never experienced anything like this before. You were sort of scared, but also excited... maybe a bit confused? ...happy to help?

His touch eventually slowed, his two now-soaked fingers leaving your cunt as he held them up in front of you. Your eyes followed his fingers, your face turning into that of surprise as he brought his fingers into his mouth momentarily.

"So sweet..." he breathed out. "Come on, open up," he slapped your cheek lightly with his clean hand.

You opened your mouth slightly, your eyes looking reluctant.

"Come on, don't be scared," he cooed. You opened a little wider and he gently placed the two fingers on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around slowly, tasting sweet, kind of salty as well, but you weren't sure if that was you or his fingers. Taking in your appearance with his fingers in your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Cute."

He stood up from the bench with a sigh, taking a step in front of you. "Just one more thing, that okay?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Yeah- yeah sure," you agreed. Even though you were unfamiliar with what you guys were doing, you were just glad you could help him out in some way.

"Good girl. --Has anyone told you how sweet you are?" He leaned forward slightly and cupped your cheeks to tilt your head upwards as you stayed seated on the bench.

"Some people, mhm," you nodded.

"Well, they weren't lying." He complimented you casually, making your stomach lurch in an oddly pleasant way. You adverted your gaze so you could soak in his compliment, your head then snapping up at the sound of a zipper. He gave you a wink that you'd be thinking about for the next week and a dazzling smile that you couldn't protest against.

He guided your legs up off the ground so you'd be kneeling on the stands bench and turned you around, having you facing opposite of the center of the quidditch pitch, towards the castle. Your eyes widened from the circumstances, the risk of being so exposed. You heard him shuffle a little behind you, the sound of his pants going down, boxers following.

You felt one of his cold fingers brush against your skin as he pushed your skirt up, making you shudder. He pulled your sodden underwear down and you heard him take a sharp inhale. His fingers ran over your folds, eliciting a groan from him. "You're so wet... n' you've never done this?" he asked you.

You shook your head, making him sigh.

"And you really want to give this to me?"

"Yeah, I do," you muttered quietly. You didn't care that it was Theodore, you just saw him as someone who needed some help and you were going to give it to them... Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you cared that it was Theodore. The Slytherin that you'd always catch yourself ogling at during the quidditch games, the one you'd stare at in potions, the guy you'd hold the door open for before Charms class.

Seeing no reason to delay his pleasure, Theodore positioned himself between your legs, holding your waist from behind as he pushed the tip of his cock into your ready cunt. You couldn't help the large gasp you let out while he stretched you out. You tried to recuperate momentarily, but he continued to enter you slowly, feeling as if there was no end.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured. He slid in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace over time before you started to let out involuntary moans.

"Theo- Theodore," you huffed out, almost whining. "The castle-- someone could see us," you worried.

His pace becoming incontinent, he brushed off your concern with ease. "No one will, okay?"

Even with his reassurance, you couldn't help but feel sheepish, your anxiety spiking as the thrill got to you.

"Oh my g-god," you moaned. Theodore leaned into your back, head resting on the nape of your shoulder. He snaked his arm on your other shoulder, putting you in a headlock. You brought your hands up to hold his arm, your mind going blank as he started up a relentless speed on you and had his other arm travel down to rub on your clit.

"Shh, shh," he whispered. "Now they will see us if you don't quiet down, yeah?" You nodded in agreement, understanding that you mustn't be loud. After a few minutes of biting back your moans as he drilled into you, he positioned you to lie on your back, on one of the benches. You complied and allowed him to reposition himself into you.

"F-fuck!" You mewled, unable to contain yourself in the new position.

"Shh, shh, shhh..." he shushed you once again, covering your mouth with a large hand as the other held both of your legs against his chest. "Be quiet for me, okay? You can do it," he murmured into your ear, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You nodded slowly as you looked up at him when he pulled his head away from you. "Good... so good."

So entranced by his eye contact, your brain drowned out the sounds of his cock going in and out of your sopping cunt, forgetting all about your precarious surroundings.

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to unravel and you knew that your orgasm was nearing. You clawed at Theodore's hand that was on your mouth and he let go, allowing your ragged gasps to float out into the air.

"You okay?" he asked you. "You close?" He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your state, horribly disheveled, biting your own lip to keep yourself from attracting attention.

"Mm," you nodded weakly, feeling your legs begin to shake. As you came undone, you felt him slow down, letting out groans of his own. You bit down on your lips harder and you could feel tears creeping into your eyes as you felt overloaded with sensations. He pulled out of you with a light pop and stepped towards your head.

He had his cock a few inches above your face and looked hesitant before asking, "May I?"

You honestly weren't very sure of what he was requesting, but you let out a soft yeah, being surprised once he spilled onto your face.

Your lips parted into an o-shape as you squinted slightly. After one last drop, you ran a finger on your cheek, observing the mark he left on you trailing down your finger. He dropped his hands to his side and crouched down to be face level with you. He cupped your face with his hands as he ushered you to sit up.

"You're a sweetheart, so nice of you to help," he praised. Even though he had just done things to you that you'd never even been brave enough to imagine an hour prior, you couldn't fight back the bashful look on your face.

"Of course," you whispered. "Do you feel better?" you asked, pulling your underwear back up.

"Yeah, yeah I do," he chortled. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You saw the sky darkening by the second and looked out the pitch. "Oh! Someone's coming!" you exclaimed.

He gave a mischievous smile that you could stare at for days, planted a quick kiss on your lips, and grabbed your hand to stand you up, brushing ur skirt down to cover your behind.

"Then let's go."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[romugh]

BUTTONED UP, LET LOOSE- NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 16th — car sex, innocence

DAY TEN || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x g!p!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, loss of virginity, slight corruption?, fingering (n rcv), handie (r rcv), slight exhibitionism (?), praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex (again??? kinda?? cheers!), library sex?, car sex, breeding!!, creampie (not specified tho, but i'm a slut so imagine it.)

wc- 10.456k of filthy goodness. goodnight LMAO!

a/n- wrote this with my little anon's thought in mind, say "thank you"!! anyways, the end was quite rushed in editing as i've been bedridden with stomach flu BUT hey! no cute glasses mention in this is a crime though, i apologise </3

synopsis- innocent natty. library. car. SEX.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches - comment or dm to be added :)

The library's usual hush enveloped you both as Natasha sat across the table, a determined expression on her face while she explained the astrophysics equations you were supposed to be studying. Her voice was steady, the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing the material inside and out. It was in moments like these, with her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and her attention fixed on the formulas, that Natasha was at her most self-assured. She had always been this way—composed, focused, and resolutely serious about her academics.

But as she went on about gravitational waves and complex integrals, your thoughts were miles away from the numbers she was scribbling down. You had been at this game for months, pushing her boundaries little by little, enjoying every flustered reaction and breathy response she gave you. The way her cheeks flushed pink whenever you leaned in a little too close or said something teasing had kept you entertained more than the equations ever could.

Today, though, you could feel a restlessness in you, an urge to take things further. Natasha had a crush on you—she didn’t need to say it out loud for you to know. It was in the way her eyes lingered on you when she thought you weren’t looking and the extra effort she put into her explanations, as if she was hoping to impress you. Her timid glances and nervous smiles betrayed her feelings, even if she tried to act like they didn’t exist.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs out under the table until your foot gently brushed against hers. Her head snapped up at the contact, her wide green eyes meeting yours. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze back to the textbook, her voice faltering for a moment as she continued explaining. “A-and so, the gravitational constant… it’s, um, important for—”

“Careful, princess,” you interrupted, letting your voice drop to a low, teasing murmur. “You’re sounding a bit distracted there. You sure you’re not the one who needs help focusing?”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly as she tried to steady herself. “I’m not,” she said softly, though there was a tremor in her voice. She turned the page in her notebook, pointing to another equation. “You… you just need to pay attention more. This part is essential for understanding the exam material.”

“Right,” you drawled, letting your gaze drift down to her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “But it seems like you’re the one who’s a little off track. You’ve been going over that same equation for the past five minutes.”

She blinked, glancing down at the textbook as if she hadn’t realised. Her cheeks reddened further, and she quickly flipped to the next problem. “I’m just making sure you understand,” she said defensively. “These equations are really complicated, and I know you’ve been struggling.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe I’d understand better if you helped me in a different way,” you suggested, your tone deceptively casual as your fingers brushed the edge of the textbook, inching closer to her hand. “You know, something more... hands-on.”

Natasha looked up, her brows knitting together in confusion. She tilted her head slightly, her innocence showing as she tried to piece together what you were suggesting. “Hands-on?” she echoed, her voice soft and uncertain. “You mean like... working through more practice problems? Or... showing you the step-by-step process again?”

Your smirk widened. She was just so naïve, so wrapped up in her own world of equations and theories that it hadn’t even crossed her mind that you could be implying something else. You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice to a near whisper. “I was thinking of a different kind of help, princess. Something a bit more... intimate.”

The pink flush on Natasha’s cheeks deepened, her eyes widening as she tried to process your words. “I-I’m not sure what you mean,” she stammered, looking down at the book in front of her as if it could somehow provide an answer. “We’re… we’re supposed to be studying this, not... I mean, what else would we even be doing?”

You chuckled, a low, quiet sound that made her glance up at you nervously. “Oh, come on, Natasha. You’re a smart girl—you can figure it out,” you teased, letting your fingers graze her hand ever so slightly before pulling back. “Unless you really are that innocent.”

Her breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip as if debating whether to press further. “I just… I think we should focus on the equations,” she insisted, her voice shaky. “The exam is only a few weeks away, and you said you needed lots of help understanding this chapter.”

You could see it—the way her fingers fidgeted with the corner of the page, the way her shoulders tensed as she tried to keep her composure. There was a part of her that understood what you were implying, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. The dark desire was there, buried beneath layers of shyness and self-restraint, and you wanted to pull it to the surface, to make her confront it.

Natasha's innocence was almost palpable. She was the kind of girl who had never even dared to watch porn, the idea itself making her blush furiously. The few times she had tried to touch herself had ended in shame, her own inexperience and embarrassment overwhelming her before she could explore anything further. It was like she’d always stopped herself just short of pleasure, afraid to give in completely, and you could sense that hesitation now, see it in the way her breath hitched as your words hung in the air.

But there was also a spark of something else—a curiosity she couldn’t suppress, a craving she didn’t fully understand. And you were determined to feed that curiosity, to coax her deeper into this uncharted territory.

“Sure,” you said lightly, leaning back in your chair. “If that’s what you want.” You let the silence linger for a moment before adding, “But you know, there’s more to life than just studying equations. Don’t you ever wonder what else is out there, princess? Don’t you want to experience something... different?”

Natasha looked at you, her eyes wide and uncertain, as if she was torn between following her instincts and sticking to the safety of the academic path she knew so well. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, her blush deepening as she glanced away. “I just… we’re supposed to be here to study. That’s what we agreed on.”

Your gaze lingered on her, the playful smirk on your lips fading into something darker, more predatory. “Studying doesn’t have to be the only thing we do, though,” you said softly. “Sometimes, the best lessons aren’t found in textbooks.”

Natasha’s breathing quickened, her fingers curling into tight fists on the table as she struggled to maintain her composure. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes—an unspoken conflict between the shame that told her to stay focused and the desire that tempted her to give in, to let herself be led astray just this once. She was so naïve, so innocent in her understanding of the world, and you could see how much that innocence was starting to weigh on her.

You reached across the table, this time letting your hand rest over Natasha’s on the textbook. The contact made her stiffen, her breath catching as she glanced up at you, wide-eyed and uncertain. "You know," you began, your voice dropping to a husky murmur, "I can tell you’ve got a lot of things on your mind, princess. But these notes don’t seem like one of them right now."

Natasha tried to pull her hand back, but you tightened your grip just enough to keep her in place, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. Her gaze flicked down to where your hand touched hers, then back up to meet your eyes, as if she was trying to gauge your intentions. She swallowed hard, the movement almost imperceptible, but you noticed how her breath seemed to catch ever so slightly.

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said shakily, her voice betraying her nerves. "I’m here to help you study. That’s… that’s all."

But even as she said it, there was a part of her that didn’t quite want to pull away. The warmth of your touch sent a tingle up her arm, a sensation she wasn’t used to—something that made her want to inch closer instead of retreating. She liked the contact, craved it even, but didn’t know how to reconcile that need with the proper, composed person she was trying to be. The more she tried to focus on the study materials in front of her, the more aware she became of the way your thumb kept tracing gentle circles against her skin, soothing and igniting her all at once.

It was confusing and exhilarating, and the conflict showed in the way she bit her lip, as if trying to stop herself from admitting just how much she wanted this—even if she didn’t entirely understand what this was. Her fingers trembled slightly beneath yours, a subtle surrender hidden behind her protests, a silent plea for more contact that contradicted the words that left her lips.

"Is it?" You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a smirk. "Because it seems like you’re trying awfully hard to avoid looking at me. And I can’t help but wonder… what are you so afraid of, Natty?"

She swallowed, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at the nickname. "I’m not afraid," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just… we should get back to the equations. There’s still a lot to cover."

You could hear the desperation in her voice, the way she clung to the pretence of tutoring like it was a shield against the confusion swirling in her mind. It was adorable, really, how hard she was trying to keep things professional when her reactions betrayed her so easily. You let go of her hand, leaning back in your chair and watching as she quickly pulled away, her fingers trembling slightly as she picked up the pen.

"Alright, then," you said with a shrug, though there was a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Let’s get back to it. Show me that equation again."

Natasha nodded quickly, grateful for the reprieve, and flipped back to the previous page in her notebook. Her voice was steadier now, though still a little breathless as she resumed explaining the formula. "So, um, as I was saying… the gravitational constant is—"

Before she could finish, you made your way around the table and sat down next ot her, this time placing your hand on her thigh. Her words died in her throat, and she froze, her pen clattering onto the notebook. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, her eyes wide with shock and something else—a flicker of excitement, perhaps?

"You were saying?" you prompted, your fingers tracing slow circles on the inside of her thigh, just above the hem of her skirt. The fabric felt warm against your skin, and you could feel the slight tremor in her leg as she struggled to compose herself. "Come on, Natasha. Don't stop now. I was really starting to understand the gravitational constant."

Her breath hitched, and she glanced around nervously, as if checking to see if anyone could see the two of you tucked away in the corner of the library. The quiet space was deserted, and the only sounds were the faint rustle of paper and the distant hum of the air conditioning. Still, the sense of vulnerability lingered in the air, amplifying the heat rising in Natasha’s cheeks. "You… you’re close…" she stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "This isn’t… we’re supposed to be…"

"Studying? Yeah, I know," you said casually, your hand sliding a little higher on her thigh. "But you know, sometimes you need to take a break. Clear your head, focus on something else for a while. It might even help you concentrate better." You leaned closer, your lips just inches from her ear as you added, "Besides, I think you could use a little distraction."

Natasha’s breathing quickened, and she bit her bottom lip, glancing down at where your hand rested so dangerously close to her. Her mind was spinning, torn between the urge to push you away and the shameful curiosity that kept her rooted in place. "But… someone might see," she whispered, her voice shaky. "We… we shouldn’t…"

"No one’s going to see us, princess," you murmured, your tone soothing yet insistent as you let your fingers slip beneath the hem of her skirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "It’s just you and me." You paused, letting your hand hover just below the edge of her panties. "Unless, of course, you want me to stop."

Her gaze darted up to meet yours, her expression a mix of panic and something darker, more primal. There was a hunger in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide, a longing that had been building up for weeks, fueled by every teasing remark and lingering touch. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but she was curious, desperate even, to know what it would feel like to let herself be led astray. Her hand trembled as she placed it over yours, but instead of pulling you away, she hesitated, her fingers curling loosely around your wrist.

"That's what I thought," you breathed, a dark satisfaction settling in your chest as you slipped your hand higher, your fingers gently pressing against the thin fabric of her underwear. Natasha gasped, her grip tightening around your wrist as if to stop you, but she didn’t push you away. Her cheeks burned with shame, but there was a small part of her that was curious, that wanted to know what it would be like to let go, to surrender like this for once.

You didn’t give her time to think about it. Your other hand reached up to cup her chin, tilting her head back so she was forced to look at you. "You’re so tense, princess," you whispered, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Relax a little, will you? Just let yourself feel it."

Then, with deliberate slowness, you slipped your fingers beneath the fabric of her panties, finding her wet and warm. Natasha’s breath hitched sharply, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping open again, as if she was afraid of what might happen if she gave in completely. She gripped the edge of the table with her free hand, her knuckles turning white as she fought to maintain her composure.

"W-oh, we should get back to the equations," she managed to say, though her voice was breathless and strained. "This… I don’t know what I’m doing…"

You could hear the conflict in her voice, the way she tried to cling to her sense of propriety even as her body responded to your touch. "Oh, come on, Natasha," you murmured, your fingers sliding against her slick folds, teasing her just enough to make her squirm. "You don’t really want me to stop, do you? I can feel how wet you are. You’re curious, aren’t you?"

She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and longing. "No, I… I’m not… I don’t think like that…"

"Shh," you whispered, your hand moving to cover her mouth as you pressed a finger inside her, slowly, letting her feel every inch. "Just let yourself enjoy it, princess. No one has to know."

Natasha’s muffled whimper sent a thrill through you, and you continued to work your finger deeper, savouring the way her walls clenched around you, how her breath quickened beneath your hand. Her eyes squeezed shut, and you could see the struggle on her face, the war between shame and desire, the urge to push you away and the need to cling to the sensations coursing through her.

Your finger pressed deeper, coaxing a breathy gasp from Natasha that she couldn’t stifle beneath your hand. Her eyes darted around the library, half-lidded and unfocused, as if desperately searching for a way out—or perhaps hoping no one would stumble upon the two of you tucked away in the shadows. The thought of being caught seemed to send a jolt through her, a reminder of how wrong this was. But her hips moved into your touch, a subtle, instinctive motion that spoke louder than any words. She wanted this—wanted you—even if she didn’t quite know how to ask for it. Her breath hitched, cheeks flushing as she met your gaze, letting the unspoken desire hang between you.

"That’s it, princess," you whispered against her ear, your voice thick with dark amusement. "You’re starting to relax now. Doesn’t that feel better?" You added another finger, her tightness evident as you worked them in carefully, each movement deliberate, savouring the way her body tensed and then yielded. Her breath hitched again, a soft, desperate sound that made your pulse quicken. You could feel her trembling against you, every bit the inexperienced girl, struggling to reconcile the sensations overwhelming her.

Natasha’s hand gripped the table tighter, her nails digging into the wood as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her thighs quivered, parted even more for you to reach between them, but she didn’t dare look at you—didn’t dare acknowledge the shameful truth that she was letting this happen. "I-I don’t… I don’t know…" she stammered, her voice muffled by the pressure of your hand still covering her mouth. "We… we can’t…"

Your smirk widened, a dark, knowing gleam in your eyes as you leaned closer, your breath hot against her flushed cheek. "Can’t?" you echoed, your tone dripping with mockery. "Or you don’t want to admit how much you like it?" You crooked your fingers inside her, brushing against a sensitive spot that made her cry out—though the sound was lost beneath your palm. Her hips bucked, her legs squeezing together instinctively, but it only served to trap your hand there, her body clinging to you in a way that was far more honest than her words.

A wicked thrill shot through you as you watched her crumble, every twitch and tremor betraying how little control she had left. You could feel her slickness increasing, coating your fingers as you moved faster, your thumb brushing lightly against her clit just to see the way she would react. Her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut as a whimper escaped her lips—a sound so full of desperate need that it sent a shiver of satisfaction down your spine. She was already unravelling, and you hadn’t even properly started.

"I think you’ve got something mixed up, princess," you murmured, letting your lips graze her ear as you spoke. "You keep saying ‘we can’t,’ but I’m pretty sure you’re telling me otherwise."

Natasha shook her head, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to stay composed. "Yes… please…" she breathed, her voice shaking with confusion and desire. "I-I don’t know what… I’ve never…"

"Shh, I know, I know," you whispered soothingly, though there was no real comfort in your tone. "You’re so innocent, aren’t you? Never felt anything like this before." You pulled your hand away from her mouth, letting her catch her breath as you kissed the spot just below her ear, soft and lingering. "But that’s okay, princess. I’ll teach you. All you have to do is trust me."

She looked at you with wide, watery eyes, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and arousal, and her breath came out in ragged gasps. "W-we shouldn’t… I’m—You’re… I’m supposed to be helping you with your coursework…"

"And you are," you replied smoothly, letting your fingers drag slowly out of her before thrusting them back in, earning a sharp gasp. "You’re helping me a lot, actually. Think of this as extra credit, princess."

Natasha whimpered, her body responding despite her mind’s weak attempts to resist. You could feel the way she squeezed around your fingers, could see the glazed look in her eyes as her walls fluttered helplessly. Her voice was barely a whisper as she finally pleaded, "Please… not here…"

Your smirk widened as you relished the sound of her desperation, and you withdrew your hand completely, leaving her panting and needy. "Alright, then," you said, voice low and dangerous. "We’ll save the rest for later." You stepped back, adjusting your stance as you took in the sight of her—Natasha, the model student, the academic prodigy, now reduced to a trembling mess in the library’s dark corner.

You licked your fingers clean, savouring the taste of her arousal on your tongue, before leaning down to whisper, "Come on, princess. Let's get you home."

You led Natasha toward your motorcycle, but instead of grabbing your helmet, you tossed the keys into the air and caught them with a mischievous grin. "You’re coming with me," you said, nodding toward her car parked nearby. Natasha blinked in surprise, her confusion momentarily cutting through the lingering haze of arousal.

It took her a moment to register the fact that you weren't heading for your bike at all. Her eyes darted to your hand—clutching her car keys. When had you...? She remembered then, how you had been ‘adjusting’ her skirt just a minute earlier, your hands lingering at her waist. You’d slipped the keys from her pocket without her even noticing.

"You’re leaving your bike?" she asked, glancing back at your motorcycle as if it were the only thing grounding her in reality right now.

"Just for tonight." You walked to her car and opened the passenger door, gesturing for her to get in. "Go ahead, princess. I'll drive."

She hesitated for a moment, but the vulnerable look in her eyes betrayed her longing for you to take control, to lead her down this path she’d never dared tread before. She climbed in slowly, her fingers fumbling with the seatbelt as if her mind were still struggling to catch up. You slid into the driver’s seat, your hand settling on her thigh almost instinctively as you started the engine.

The ride was quiet, the tension thick in the enclosed space, your touch resting warmly on her leg. She squirmed beneath your palm, her gaze flicking to you every few seconds as if waiting for you to do something, anything to break the silence. But you kept your focus on the road, pretending not to notice the way her breath quickened whenever your fingers flexed.

"Adress, princess?" you asked casually as you reached a stoplight, your eyes meeting hers in the dim light.

She gave you the directions, her voice trembling slightly, and you hummed in acknowledgment, continuing the drive. But when you reached her street, you didn’t stop in front of her house. Instead, you pulled into a dark side street a few houses down, parking the car under the shadow of some trees.

"W-why did you stop here?" Natasha asked, her voice small and unsure as she looked around the familiar but spooky area.

You turned off the engine and leaned back in your seat, your hand still resting on her thigh. "I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’," you said, your tone teasing, though there was a dark edge beneath it.

She flushed, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat. "T-thank you," she mumbled, her voice filled with embarrassed confusion.

"Oh, that’s it?" you scoffed, arching an eyebrow. "First you forget, and then you don’t even mean it? Not only did I drive you home, but I also made you feel good. I think I deserve a real ‘thank you’, princess."

The tension in the air thickened as Natasha looked at you, her expression caught between shame and a reluctant understanding of what you were implying.

Natasha's breath came out in shallow pants, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson. She squirmed in her seat, her fingers tightening on the edge of the cushion as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. Her wide eyes met yours, glistening with uncertainty. “W-what do you mean?” she asked, her voice a hesitant whisper, though a hint of something more—something darker—flickered in her gaze.

You chuckled softly, a low and dangerous sound that made her shiver. “Come on, princess. You’re smarter than that. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Your hand slid up her thigh, fingers inching toward the hem of her skirt. Her breath hitched as your touch lingered there, applying just enough pressure to make your intention clear. “Why don’t you start by thanking me properly?” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “And then we’ll see where that gets us.”

Natasha bit her lip, her eyes darting to the darkened street outside. The shadows seemed to close in, emphasising just how isolated you both were. There was no one here to witness this, no one to interrupt. Her pulse raced at the thought, a mixture of fear and something else—something she didn’t want to admit to herself. She looked back at you, her gaze faltering. “I… I don’t know how to…,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve never… done anything like this before.”

Your smirk widened, your fingers trailing up to tease the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Again, princess, I know,” you said, the dark satisfaction in your tone unmistakable. “That’s why I’m going to show you. Just do exactly as I say, and I promise you’ll enjoy every second of it, as will I.” You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her cheek as you whispered, “Now, say thank you like you mean it.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her whole body trembling with nervous energy. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice breathless and uncertain. You arched an eyebrow, your fingers slipping higher, grazing the edge of her underwear. “That’s better,” you said, your touch growing firmer. “But I’m still not convinced.”

Her heart hammered in her chest as you moved your hand back to her skirt, lifting it just enough to expose the pale skin beneath. She let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but you caught her wrists, pinning them down gently but firmly. “Ah ah, none of that,” you murmured, your gaze locked on hers. “Keep your hands to your sides, princess. I want you to be good for me.”

Natasha's chest heaved with each ragged breath, her body betraying the deep shame and twisted desire pooling in her belly. Her hands clenched into fists as she fought against the overwhelming urge to obey you, to give in to whatever you demanded of her. It felt wrong—so terribly wrong—but the heat flooding her veins made it hard to care. 

She wanted to be good. She wanted you to approve of her.

Your grip tightened on her wrists, and you gave a little nod toward your lap, the unspoken command clear in your eyes. “You know what to do,” you said, a hint of a challenge lacing your voice. “Don’t make me wait.”

Natasha hesitated for a fraction of a second before she reached for the button of your jeans, her trembling hands struggling with the metal clasp. Her skin burned with embarrassment, but beneath it was something else—a sense of reckless freedom that made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t before. The sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the small space of the car, and when she finally freed you, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Big You straining against the fabric.

Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, as if seeking approval—or perhaps reassurance that this was really happening, that you were pulling her into this dark, exhilarating world she’d only ever glimpsed in her fantasies. But there was no familiar softness in your gaze, only a sharp, predatory gleam that sent a jolt through her. “Go on, then,” you encouraged, your tone growing lower, more commanding. “Show me how grateful you really are, princess.”

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the waistband of your boxers, hesitating for a moment before tugging them down just enough to free you from the fabric. She drew in a shaky breath as you sprang free, her eyes widening at the sight before her. The size, the heat, the sheer reality of it left her stunned, and she swallowed hard, unsure of where to begin.

Tentatively, Natasha wrapped her hand around you, her touch feather-light at first, as if afraid to grip too tightly. The unfamiliar weight and warmth against her palm made her pulse throb in her ears, and you couldn’t help but grin at the way her grip faltered. It was clear she was utterly lost and overwhelmed, unsure of herself in this intimate moment.

With a small, teasing thrust, you pushed into her hand, guiding her rhythm. The sudden movement made her flinch, her fingers squeezing reflexively around you. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but there was something else too—something deeper and more eager beneath her shyness.

“Good girl,” you murmured, leaning back against the seat as you watched her. “Just like that.”

Natasha’s hand moved awkwardly along your length, her inexperience showing in the hesitant, uneven strokes. The look in her eyes was a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. You watched her for a moment, savouring the sight of the usually composed and reserved tutor and classmate unravelling under your touch. Her breath hitched each time your hips rolled against her fingers, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorably naïve she was.

You reached out, catching her chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so that she was forced to meet your gaze. “You can do better than that, princess,” you murmured, your voice laced with dark amusement. “Put some real effort into it. Show me that you’re grateful for everything I’ve done for you.”

Her lips parted as though to respond, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Instead, she gave a small nod, her movements becoming a little more purposeful, though there was still a clumsy innocence to the way she touched you. It was endearing, really, to see someone so smart reduced to a flustered, trembling mess in your hands. Her fingers tightened around you, a little more pressure now, and you rewarded her with a low groan of approval.

“That’s better,” you said, your thumb grazing over her lower lip as her breath stuttered. “But I still think you owe me a real thank you.”

Before she could question what you meant, you grabbed her wrist and tugged her closer. With a swift, effortless motion, you pulled her over your lap, her skirt riding up to expose the pale curve of her thighs. Natasha gasped, her body stiffening with shock as she found herself sprawled over you, her cheek pressed against the back of the cool leather seat. “W-what are you—?” she stammered, but her question died in her throat when your hand slid under her skirt, cupping her through her dampening underwear.

“Quiet,” you ordered, your tone taking on a more authoritative edge. “We’re not done yet, princess. I want you to thank me properly… and I think you need a little example of how to do that.”

Her breath quickened, and she let out a small, muffled whimper as your hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties again, stroking her gently. “I… I don’t…” she began, her voice a shaky whisper.

You smirked, lifting your hand away from her just as she started to press back against your touch, her body instinctively seeking more. “Count for me, Natasha,” you said, your palm hovering over the curve of her rear. “And don’t forget to thank me after every one.”

The first spank landed with a sharp, resounding smack that echoed in the enclosed space. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into the seat as she instinctively tried to push herself up. “One… t-thank you,” she gasped, her voice barely audible. The sting was sharp and hot, blossoming across her skin, but there was a curious thrill that came with the pain—a strange mix of shame and excitement that made her head spin.

“Good girl,” you praised, your hand rubbing over the spot where you’d struck, soothing the burn before delivering another firm spank. “Two,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Th-thank you…”

You grinned at the way her body jerked with each spank, at the breathless little sounds that escaped her lips despite her best efforts to stay composed. Her skin grew pinker with each strike, the marks of your hand painting her pale flesh. By the eleventh spank, she was trembling, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “Eleven… thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

You turned your head slightly, your breath hot against her ear as you murmured, “You’re doing so well for me, princess. But I think you can be even more grateful.” Your fingers slipped between her legs again, teasing the dampness that had soaked through her panties. “Maybe this will help you find the right words.”

Natasha’s entire body tensed at the intimate touch, her thighs clenching together in a futile attempt to close herself off. But you were relentless, your fingers slipping past the thin barrier of her underwear to stroke the slick heat between her legs once more. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. “P-please…” she whimpered, though she wasn’t even sure what she was begging for.

“Please what?” you taunted, your voice a low purr. “Do you want me to stop?” You knew the answer before she even said it, but you loved the way her hesitation made her feel even more vulnerable. The way she struggled with her own desires, torn between her shame and the undeniable pleasure coursing through her.

“I… n-no…” she finally admitted, her voice so small it was almost a whisper.

“That’s what I thought,” you said, slipping a finger inside her, savouring the way her walls clenched around you. “Now, keep counting, princess. I want to hear every single thank you.”

Natasha’s voice trembled with each counted number, her thank yous becoming softer and more breathless as you continued to spank her, your hand firm and unrelenting. Her skin was hot and flushed beneath your touch, a vivid reminder of her growing submission. With each strike, her body seemed to sink deeper into the haze of sensation, and a part of her—small, hidden—found herself longing for it. The way you touched her, the way you controlled her pleasure, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. It both thrilled and terrified her.

“Ah–Seventeen… th-thank you,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. There was an unmistakable note of desperation in her tone now, a vulnerability that made your pulse quicken. Her knees trembled, and she shifted on your lap, unable to find any position that didn’t make her feel even more exposed. When the seventh spank landed, she let out a choked little cry, her fingers curling into the seat. “Eigh–Eighteen, God, thank you…”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing over her neck as you whispered, “That’s my good girl… So obedient. I think you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, Natty?” You punctuated your question with a slow curl of your finger, pressing deeper inside her. Natasha’s breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, as though she couldn’t bear to admit the truth.

“N-no… I…” she tried to protest, but her hips involuntarily rolled against your hand. Heat flooded her cheeks, and a tingle coursed through her spine, confusing and thrilling her all at once. Her body responded to your touch in ways she didn’t understand, her pulse quickening at the tone of your voice.

You could feel the shift in her, see the way her resolve was weakening. “Don’t lie to me, princess,” you murmured with amusement. “Your body’s telling me what you really want.” You added another finger, stretching her tighter, and she gasped, the sound barely muffled by her bitten lip. “You can ask for more if you want, you know.”

For a heartbeat, she hesitated, her breath coming out in shallow, uneven gasps as you moved your fingers inside her. But then, to her own surprise as much as yours, Natasha’s voice broke the silence—small and trembling, but there. “M-more… please…” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, a glimmer of need reflecting back at you. The moment the words left her lips, she felt her heart skip in her chest, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

A shiver ran through you at her plea, the sound of her voice, so hesitant and desperate, fueling a dark satisfaction within you. “Oh, my Natty baby,” you praised softly, letting your fingers curl and press into her sweet spot, earning another soft cry. Her nails dug into your shoulders, and her breath shuddered as she rocked herself against your hand, her movements tentative but growing bolder with each second.

“I… I didn’t know…” Natasha murmured, her words barely audible as tears began to spill down her cheeks. The emotions overwhelmed her—shame, desire, the thrill of doing something so forbidden. She had never known it could feel like this, like fire and ice, pain and pleasure all at once. Her body trembled, torn between surrender and disbelief. Yet she found herself craving more, surprising herself with how much she wanted to feel you deeper, to push her limits.

“You didn’t know what, princess?” you whispered, your voice filled with dark amusement as you stroked her cheek, brushing away the tears. “You didn’t know you’d like being touched this way? Or that you’d be begging for more?”

She shook her head, another tear slipping free. “I… I didn’t know it could feel so…” Her words trailed off as a sob escaped her throat, her body arching closer to you, seeking the source of her own undoing. “So good… I—please, I need more…”

Your eyes darkened at her confession, at the way she was finally giving in completely to the desire coursing through her. You tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze as you spoke, your voice laced with satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear, princess. Don’t hold back… let yourself feel it. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

She whimpered, nodding as her breath quickened. Her inexperience was obvious in the way her body hesitated, her movements uncertain. But you guided her, coaxing her to sink further into the feeling, the shame and tears only serving to intensify the pleasure. You shifted, positioning her so that she could feel your hard length pressing against her entrance through the thin barrier of her soaked panties, a low groan escaping her lips at the sensation as your fingers steadily kept pumping into her.

Her face flushed darker, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation as she realised you were really planning on giving her exactly what she needs. “But… but…” she stammered, the words stumbling from her tongue. She wasn’t sure what she was even trying to say. The thought of you touching her like this, pushing her to the edge—it made her feel so dirty. But she didn’t want you to stop. “Please…” The word fell from her lips again, almost involuntarily, her body betraying her.

“There’s my good girl,” you murmured, stroking her cheek. “Just keep asking nicely, and I’ll make you feel even better.” You moved your fingers in a rhythm, coaxing small, breathless moans from her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she rocked against you with a quiet desperation, her tears glistening on her flushed cheeks.

Natasha’s innocence, her struggle to reconcile the shame and pleasure, made every little gasp, every plea for more, that much sweeter. She had never felt anything so raw, so consuming, and despite the tears, despite the unfamiliar—but very much welcomed—sensations coursing through her, she found herself wanting to drown in it.

Natasha’s body was trembling, every nerve alight with a mix of lingering embarrassment and overwhelming need. Her tears had stopped flowing, but her eyes remained glassy with a desperate kind of longing. She was moving on instinct now, her hips grinding against your fingers as they pressed deeper inside her. Her skin was hot to the touch, flushed from both the heat of the car and the intensity of what she was feeling.

You could see it in her eyes—the shift from uncertainty to a raw, unrestrained desire. It was as though a switch had flipped inside her, and whatever hesitation had held her back was now crumbling away. “Please… I don’t… I need it…” Natasha’s voice was breathy, the words barely coherent as she clung to you, her nails digging into your shoulders. The way she asked for more, with such a mix of innocence and desperation, sent a thrill down your spine.

You tightened your hold on her, feeling a surge of possessiveness rise within you. She was yours now, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet. The way she looked at you—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft gasp—only made the feeling stronger. “You need me, do you?” you murmured, your tone low and possessive as you moved your fingers in deeper, harder, feeling her tighten around you. “Good girl… that’s what I like to hear.”

Natasha let out a choked little moan, her body responding to your touch and words without hesitation. Her legs trembled, her thighs quivering against the leather seat as she tried to move closer, needing to feel every inch of you against her. “I… I don’t know why… I want you to keep touching me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she buried her face in your neck. She couldn’t bring herself to look you in the eyes now, couldn’t bear the intensity of what she was feeling. “Please… don’t stop…”

You chuckled softly, a dark satisfaction curling in your chest as you leaned in, pressing your lips against her damp hairline. “Don’t worry, princess,” you murmured. “I’m not going to stop. You’re mine now.” Your words were possessive, almost a growl, as you let your free hand cup her cheek, guiding her gaze back up to meet yours. The way she looked at you—so needy, so desperate—made something inside you tighten. “And I’m going to take care of you. You want that, don’t you?”

She nodded quickly, her breath coming out in shallow pants as your fingers continued to work her. “Yes… yes, please,” she whimpered, her voice hitching with every curl of your fingers inside her. There was no room left for shame, only the all-consuming need to feel more, to have you claim every part of her.

The way she responded to you now, without reservation, made your primal instincts flare. You wanted to shield her from everything, but you also wanted to keep her trembling beneath your touch, completely dependent on the pleasure you were giving her. “That’s my girl,” you whispered, kissing the corner of her jaw, just above the pulse that raced beneath her skin. “Look at you… so beautiful when you’re needy. So perfect.”

Natasha’s breath hitched at your praise, and a soft whine escaped her lips. She could hardly think straight anymore.

(not that she was, anyway)

All she knew was the way you made her feel—alive and burning, like she was drowning in you. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt as she clung to you, her tears and fears completely forgotten, replaced by an ache so deep she couldn’t even put it into words. “I want… I want to feel you more…” Her voice broke on the last word, her cheeks flushing an even darker shade of red as she realised what she was asking for, begging for.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do, but I want it…”

You paused for a moment, your gaze darkening as you absorbed her words. It wasn’t just need; it was a yearning for more than just the physical. She wanted you, wanted the way you made her feel like nothing else mattered but this moment. “You don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, your voice softer now, but still laced with that possessive edge. “Just let me take care of you, princess. I’ll give you everything you need.”

You shifted her slightly on your lap, your fingers sliding free from her wet heat, drawing a quiet whimper of protest from her. You could see the need in her eyes, the way she bit her lip, trying to hold back from asking for more but failing miserably. “Shh,” you whispered soothingly, tracing a finger over her swollen, flushed lips. “I know you want more… Give me a second, baby.” You reached down, sliding her panties to the side as you guided her legs further apart. “You’re going to have to be my good girl again and show me how much you want it.”

Her breath shuddered out as you positioned her over your hardened length, letting her feel the thickness pressing against her soaked entrance. Her eyes widened, a mix of nervousness and desire flashing across her features as she realised just how much more there was to take. “I… it’s… it’s so big…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she hesitated.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. “You can take it, princess,” you encouraged, your voice a low purr as you held her hips firmly. “I’ll help you. You’re safe with me.”

Her fingers trembled as she gripped your shoulders harder for support, her body shaking with both anticipation and need. She didn’t know if she could handle it, didn’t know if she was ready, but the look in your eyes made her feel like maybe she could. Maybe she wanted to. She began to lower herself slowly, her breath catching in her throat as the head of your cock stretched her inch by inch. It was overwhelming, much bigger than your two fingers, and her tears returned, but not out of shame or confusion this time—just the raw intensity of it all.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured, your hands steadying her as she sank down further, taking more of you inside her. The possessive part of you revelled in the way her body clenched around you, in the way she bit back the whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. “That’s it, princess… let me fill you up. Take it all.”

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her forehead resting against her left hand on your shoulder as she tried to adjust to the unfamiliar fullness. The stretch was unlike anything she’d imagined, an ache that made her shudder. But the way you whispered encouragements, the possessive grip on her waist, it all made her feel so… needed.

Wanted in a way she had never been before.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed out, surprising herself again with how much she was asking for. Her hips moved of their own accord, rolling slightly as if trying to coax more of you deeper inside her. “I… I need all of you…”

Natasha's breaths came in quick, desperate gasps as she struggled to take you completely. Her body shook, the stretch bordering on unbearable, but she physically couldn’t bring herself to stop. She needed more—needed to feel every inch of you inside her, to be filled in a way that left no room for anything else. Inch by inch, she kept sinking down, her legs trembling as her hips rolled against you in an effort to take you deeper.

You gripped her waist, steadying her as you watched her struggle, your breath hitching at the sight of her determination. “It’s okay, princess,” you murmured, voice strained as you fought to keep control. “You don’t have to—”

But she shook her head, her brows furrowed in concentration as she cut you off. “No… I need to,” she whimpered, her voice breaking on the last word as she bit down on her lower lip. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable, the stretch making her feel impossibly full, but she was so close—so close to taking you all. “I can… I can do it. Please… don’t… don’t stop me…”

A shudder of pleasure ran through you as you watched her fight for it, your grip tightening on her hips as you guided her down a little further. “God… you’re so stubborn,” you groaned, the sensation of her clenching around you almost enough to drive you mad. “But you feel so damn good.” You could see the tears in her eyes, the way her cheeks burned as she struggled to adjust to your size, but she didn’t give up. She kept moving, kept pushing herself.

With one final, trembling motion, she sank all the way down, seating herself fully in your lap. Her breath hitched, her whole body going rigid as she felt you buried inside her, deeper than she’d ever thought possible. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp mix of pain and pleasure that sent a jolt through her entire body. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back as a soft, shuddering moan escaped her lips.

The sight of her finally taking you completely for the first time, her very first time, her body trembling and her chest heaving, was enough to make you lose control. A deep groan rumbled from your throat as you clutched her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft skin. “I’m going to show you, baby,” you slurred, your voice thick with desire as you began to move her, lifting her up only to sink her back down onto your cock. “I’m showing you… y’feel so good, princess–Fuck…”

Your words came out in a heated mess, every thrust making it harder to speak clearly. The way her body clenched around you, squeezing you with each roll of her hips, made your head spin. You could barely focus, could barely think beyond the feeling of being inside her, of her warmth surrounding you so completely. It was as if she had been made for you, every inch of her fitting so perfectly around you that it almost hurt.

That look in your eyes—wide, dark, and feral—was what pushed her over the edge. She saw the way you were falling apart because of her, how your breath hitched and your words came out in broken gasps, and it sparked something wild inside her. For the first time, she felt powerful—felt like she had you at her mercy, even if she was the one trembling. Her hands clung to your shoulders, her fingers digging in as she let you take her completely, riding you with an intensity that shocked even her.

“More…” she breathed out, her voice ragged as she clung to you. “Please… More.” There was no room left for shame or doubt; there was only the need to feel you, to be filled over and over until she couldn’t think of anything else. She tightened her legs around you, pulling you in closer as you kept moving her up and down in a steady rhythm, each thrust making her see stars.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. The sight of her—so desperate, so wild—drove you closer to the brink. Your hips bucked up against her, meeting her halfway as you quickened the pace, your hands guiding her movements with a rough, possessive grip. “God, Natasha…” you groaned, your voice barely coherent as you felt her tightening around you, her body squeezing you so tightly it actually did start to hurt. “You’re mine… mine…” The words spilled out in a heated rush, your breath fanning against her ear as you buried your face in her hair.

Natasha’s nails raked down your arms and neck, her breath hitching with every roll of her hips. The feel of your possessiveness, of the way you claimed her, sent a shiver through her entire body. She buried her face in your neck, her lips brushing against your skin as she let out a broken moan. “Yours… I’m yours…” The words left her before she could even think about what they meant, before she could question why it felt so good to say them.

The rhythm quickened, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through her, until it felt like her whole body was on fire. She couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get you deep enough. Her thighs trembled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she clung to you, letting you move her in whatever way you pleased. She didn’t care anymore—didn’t care how needy or desperate she looked. All that mattered was the way you filled her, over and over, until she felt like she would break.

You could feel her losing herself, could hear it in the breathy moans and half-whimpers that spilled from her lips. It was like she had given herself over entirely to you, her body yielding in a way that made something primal inside you go feral. “My perfect girl,” you whispered, your voice rough as you praised her. “That’s it… take it all, princess. You’re perfect… perfect for me.”

Her body shuddered at your words, and a sob tore from her throat as she felt herself unravelling. She was so close—so close to the edge that it scared her, but she didn’t want it to end. She buried her face against your neck, her voice muffled against your skin as she cried out. “Please… Don’t let go—Don’t let go…” Her voice trembled with the intensity of it all, her nails digging into your shoulders as she held on for dear life.

You didn’t let go. You kept moving, kept taking her, holding her against you as if she might disappear if you didn’t. The possessiveness, the need to make her feel everything, consumed you entirely. And as you felt her tighten around you time after time, her whole body going taut as she cried out in pure ecstasy, you knew you had her completely.

Natasha's cries echoed in your ears, mixing with the sound of your own breaths as you thrust harder, feeling the heat pooling in your core. The way she clung to you, the way her body quivered above you, only heightened your desire. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” you encouraged, each word a reminder of how utterly lost she was in this moment with you, how perfectly aware you were in this moment with her.

Her orgasms rolled through her like a tidal wave, crashing over every thought and leaving only pleasure in its wake. You watched, enthralled, as she writhed against you, her body contracting and pulsing around you, squeezing you tighter and tighter as her cries turned into soft whimpers. The way she surrendered to the feeling made your heart race, igniting a deep-seated need to protect her, to hold her through this storm.

“Please… please don’t stop,” she gasped, breathless and desperate. The sheer need in her voice sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting an even deeper hunger. You increased your pace, each thrust more frantic than the last as your body took over, driven by instinct rather than thought. You were focused solely on the pleasure radiating from her, on the way she fell apart around you, and how you could make her feel even better.

“Never stopping, princess,” you murmured, your voice a low growl as you leaned closer, wrapping your arms tighter around her. “M’gonna to fill you up... make you mine.” You thrust into her with a newfound urgency, chasing your own release, the heat pooling in your belly threatening to boil over.

With each thrust, you felt the tension inside you building, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. You could see the look on her face—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted in silent cries of pleasure. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough. “You feel so good, Natty. So fucking good,” you grunted, the pleasure blurring the edges of your mind.

Natasha nodded, eyes glassy with need, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I—oh god… I can’t…” she whimpered, her hips instinctively meeting yours, driving you both deeper into this carnal dance. The world outside faded into oblivion as you lost yourselves in one another.

“M’gonna fill you, baby,” you groaned, your voice rough with desire as you neared your peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you felt everything snap, the pressure inside you bursting forth as you released into her, filling her completely. The sensation of it was almost overwhelming, the heat of your release mixing with the intoxicating warmth of her body.

Natasha’s eyes widened as she felt you release, and the combination of pleasure and sensation sent her spiralling into yet another climax. She cried out, her voice a mixture of surprise and ecstasy as her body quaked around you, milking every last drop from you as you filled her. The world faded away, and all that remained was the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, need, and an undeniable connection that had ignited between you.

You held her tightly, feeling her heartbeat beneath your hands, her breaths coming in shuddering gasps as you both rode the waves of your releases. In that moment, the weight of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in your own private universe, a place where nothing else mattered but the blissful entanglement of your bodies.

But as you gently slipped out of Natasha and the haze of pleasure began to lift, her eyes glistened with an emotion that caught you off guard. A shadow of doubt crept across her features, her expression shifting from blissful surrender to uncertainty. She looked at the fogged window, her cheeks flushing with a mix of vulnerability and confusion. “Was… was I just a quick fuck to you?” The question slipped from her lips in a whisper, a tremor of vulnerability lacing her voice. She looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the weight of her words heavy between you. “I mean… I know how you are with girls, and I can’t help but feel—”

She hesitated, biting her lip as if to swallow the flood of insecurities threatening to spill out. Her gaze flickered to the side, avoiding your eyes, and you could see the fear in her expression. The last thing she wanted was to be another notch on your belt, a fleeting moment in the wake of your reputation for sleeping around and toying with girls who had dared to fall for your charm. The thought made her heart race, and she quickly added, “I thought maybe… maybe I meant more to you than that.”

Her voice wavered, each word wrapped in doubt, and the way her hands fidgeted in her lap betrayed just how deeply this fear cut. She needed reassurance, a confirmation that she was not just a passing fancy but something far more significant in your eyes. The innocence she had shown moments before was now tinged with trepidation, and it left you with an ache in your chest as you realised the impact your actions had on her, feeling your heart sink at her words.

Her eyes searched yours for reassurance, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel the weight of her uncertainty. “But… you could have anyone you want,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why would you choose me?”

“Because I want you,” you replied, sincerity pouring from your words as you continued, “I’ve liked you for a while now. I just didn’t think I was deserving of someone as pure, beautiful, and smart as you.”

A sad smile tugged at her lips, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’ve liked you for years, you know,” she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. “Like that time I first bumped into you and let go of that stupid telescope… I thought you were going to hate me for making you pay so much to reimburse the university.”

You let out a soft laugh, the moment turning bittersweet as the memory flooded back. “Honestly, I was frustrated at first, but I couldn’t stay mad at you. You were just… so cute.”

A small smile broke through her tears, hesitantly blooming on her lips. “I don’t want to be just… just a distraction for you.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Not even close. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. Just being with you, hanging out with you, it feels right.”

Her smile grew a little, and you could see the flicker of hope in her eyes as she absorbed your words. “Really? You really mean that?”

“More than anything,” you confirmed, your heart swelling with the connection building between you. “You’re my choice, Natty. Always.”

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and delight, and you couldn’t help but smile at her. “Can I… can I kiss you?” you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha's breath hitched slightly at your words, her wide eyes reflecting the gravity of the moment. It struck her that, despite everything that had just happened between you, this kiss would mark a deeper connection—one that transcended the physical. 

That realisation settled between you, making the air feel charged and electric. You could see how much this meant to her, how special it was that your first kiss would be a shared moment of emotional intimacy and vulnerability. It wasn't just an act; it was an acknowledgment of the bond you were forming.

She nodded, a spark of hope lighting her eyes, and you leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against hers with a tender hesitation. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened as you both melted into it, the warmth of your earlier intimacy blossoming into something even more profound.

As your lips moved together, you felt the last remnants of doubt fade away, replaced by a connection that felt unbreakable. You pulled back, searching her gaze for any lingering uncertainty. “See?” you murmured, your forehead resting against hers. “You’re so much more to me than just a quick moment. You always have been.”

Natasha smiled softly, the tears in her eyes now replaced by something brighter, something hopeful. You knew that whatever lay ahead, this moment would always be the start of something deeper, something beautifully complicated that neither of you had anticipated.

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Bluesky - Part One of OUTLAW Series

Pairing: Ex-Outlaw Toji Fushiguro x Outlaw Reader

WC: 8.7k

Summary: Shit luck. That's the unfortunate reputation branded to ex-outlaw Toji Fushiguro. That is, until tonight, when a reunion with an "old friend" turns his luck on its head.

Story Warning: Bar Fight, Gambling, Cheating (at gambling lmao), Violence and Blood and Broken Bones, Implied Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex (M. Receiving), Implied Ass play, Misogyny, Protective Toji, Marking, Profanity, Smut obviously, Outlaw pt.1 references, No Y/N usage here

Art by: shesdeny on X

A/N: I had Backroads by Tanner Adell on repeat the entire time I wrote this ON REPEAT. I didn't proofread i'm so tired yall

Word on the prairie is there’s been one hell of a train heist.

It’s the talk of the town right now, and Toji’s soaking up every word of it as he sits at the parlor poker table. 

One man places a card down on the table, taking a drag of his cigar. “I heard they cleaned the locomode right out. Not even a silver spoon left at the scene.”

‘Thorough,’ Toji thinks. 

Another slides his chips into the center, where the dealer takes them. “Yup, heard that, too. An’ I heard it was a broad that did it.”

This piques Toji’s interest. He slides more chips forward, taps the table to check, letting them know he’s not adding any more money to this pot. Not that he has anymore to offer. He’s really hoping the shit luck he’s been having lately turns tonight.

“A broad?” The cigar smoker asks, thick smoke falling from his lips. “Can’t imagine a woman bein’ able to pull that off.”

At this, Toji snorts under his breath. These men don’t know what a determined and smart woman is capable of. But he does.

Another man laughs hard, tapping his fists on the table. “Thought so, too, but they caught a outlaw at the scene, too.” He tries to catch his breath, chuckling when he describes the scene. Apparently, the poor sucker was picked up from the train car with his hair knotted around the seat bar and his dick out for everyone to see. This makes Toji shake his head, amused, because he has a strong feeling he knows exactly who could have pulled something like that off.

A clean sweep? Leaving the other party humiliated just because they can? Toji’s fairly certain about who the culprit is for this one.

“But they say the outlaw escaped on the way to hoosegow,” notes the man. “Ain’t been able to find him. Probably gonna kill the broad when he finds her.”

Toji shakes his head, the slightest smirk sitting on his lips. That tracks. Leaving the scene with enemies left behind in embarrassing situations? Yeah, he knows exactly who pulled this heist off.

The men go on and on about the heist and the rumors circulating around the town. To everyone else, it all seems impractical. How could some woman possibly have the wits and the courage to be able to face off with one notorious outlaw and come out on top both literally and figuratively? 

Toji only knows one woman capable of achieving such a feat — you.

You’re the one who got—

“You in or you out, Fushiguro?” The dealer calls impatiently. “Hurry up.”

Toji checks the spread across the table, what’s laid out to determine if he’s going to stay in the game or not. And as his eyes flit across the cards, he kisses his teeth.

He lost, as usual.

”I’m out,” he grunts, standing from his seat. “Gonna take a piss.”

-

The streets are alive with activity. Brothel girls stand on the porches of their building, batting their lashes and waving their handkerchiefs in an attempt to lure each and every man inside. They call out to Toji, blow him kisses and offer him the “night of his life” while waving their fingers flirtily in his direction. Toji ignores their advances, not in the mood after taking yet another hit to his already dwindling funds.

This streak of bad luck has been following him all his life. Small inconveniences, minor problems that have built up and taken a toll on him over time. It seemed as if being an outlaw was the only thing he was good at, though he wouldn’t call himself one now. He’s not sure why he ever thought hanging up his hat as an outlaw and taking up gambling would change his luck. He’s never won, not once. But he can’t seem to stop himself from putting it all on the line in hopes that he’ll hit big, just one time. So far, no luck.

Toji strolls into the back alley of the parlor, nose wrinkling at the rancid smell of sweat and piss that fills the area. He finds what he thinks might be a cleaner spot than the rest of the alley and pulls his pants to his knees, grabbing hold of himself just before he begins to relieve himself.

The sharp sounds emanating from the piano keys throughout the many saloons can be heard and Toji finds himself tilting his head back and staring up at the night sky, letting a little tune fall from his lips in a whistle. It’s when he’s shaking the remnants of his bathroom break off that he feels the cold press of metal against the back of his head, effectively cutting his whistling short.

Shit.

Just his luck. Of course he’d go out to relieve himself and end up with a damn gun to his skull.

“Ya know what they say ‘bout whistlin’ at night, don’t ya?” A familiar sweet voice sings behind him. “Brings bad luck.”

Toji chuckles, shaking his head - and the extra piss - off. “That’s a cowboy’s belief,” he remarks. He pulls his pants back up, securing them around his waist. “And I ain’t one.”

The stranger hums, the pressure of the gun easing just slightly, but it’s enough for Toji and he takes this moment to spin around swiftly. His large hand catches the weapon in his palm and he yanks forward, pulling its wielder with it. He holds the barrel of the gun against the center of his forehead, a sick grin sitting on his lips.

“Just kill me if you’re gonna do it. But just know…I ain’t got shit for ya to take.” In the dim lighting of the alleyway, Toji can just make out the way this person stares up at him through hooded eyes, teeth digging into their bottom lip as they have this short standoff with him. Then they sigh, unceremoniously lifting their skirt and holstering their weapon between their thighs. 

“I see shit ain’t changed since the last time I saw ya, Toji.”

Toji only shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face. “Creature of habit, I guess.”

And there’s that laugh he hasn’t heard in some time. One that he won’t admit he’s missed because it reminds him of a different time in his life. One that he also won’t admit that he’s missed.

Standing before him is the earlier topic of discussion amongst the men inside. You’ve got your hands on your hips, dressed in the pretty little get up you usually wear when you’re up to no good, and Toji knows you’re about to have one hell of a night. And he has a feeling that you’re going to be dragging him into whatever plot you’ve cooked up. 

He takes in your appearance, the fancy new gun you tucked away and a very nice hat that probably sells for a hefty price.

Toji motions to your new possessions. “Keepsakes from your last job? Heard it was a damn good ride.”

You lift a hand, running your fingers along the brim of your hat, giggling as you play dumb. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

He knows better than to pry, at least not in the open where just anybody can hear. So instead he tells you, “You look pretty tonight,” and basks in the smile you give him. Soft and genuine, but only for a second before you’ve shifted into the little facade you put on.

“D’ya wanna show me ‘round here?” You ask sweetly, looping your arm through Toji’s and tugging him along. 

Toji slips his hands into his pockets. Truth be told, he hasn’t been in this town long, just arrived a couple days ago when he heard there was easy money to make at the parlors. But he hasn’t found that to be true. He was actually planning on heading out soon anyway. “Not much goin’ on in this town ‘round this time of night. Same ol’ gamblin’, drinkin’, fuckin’ and fightin’ that happens in all the others.”

“Hmm,” you nod, peering up at Toji with the false innocence he’s familiar with. “And what about you?” You’ve switched on your proper speech as well, Toji notes, but he doesn’t miss the suggestive tone behind your words when you ask, “Which one are you gettin’ into tonight?” 

He wants to tell you that he’ll be in whatever shitshow you start, just how he always is when you two run into each other in whatever middle of nowhere town you end up in. But instead he just smirks as he leans down to your ear where he whispers, “Let's see how the night goes.”

-

You’re careful to make sure there are no watchful eyes when you both emerge from the alley arm in arm. Toji leads you back towards the parlor, not missing the salacious looks you’re getting from the other men and cowboys while he holds onto you. And you, ever the actress, offer a demure smile and nod to each and every one of them that has them melting beneath your gaze.

And it’s a ridiculous thing, really, how Toji also finds himself melting for you. Although it’s for different reasons. You can offer all the innocent and pretty smiles you want. It may fool the average man, but it’s never fooled Toji. You two are cut from the same cloth, and that’s what brought you two together in the first place all those years ago.

You’re a beautiful woman, of course. A perfect face with a perfect body to match, filling that outfit of yours just the way Toji has always liked. But it’s your mind that draws Toji to you. Your ability to easily cook up a scheme that you rarely fail to pull off. The way you can slip on a manipulative mask like the one you’re wearing now and wrap anyone around your finger. How you can lure people into your traps and get anything you want. Any time he’s in your presence, Toji’s convinced that he’s sick in the head, because he can’t fucking get enough of watching you conspire against whatever poor person you’ve deemed your target.

It brings him back to his outlaw days, when he’d met you mid-scheme and almost threw a wrench in your plans. But somehow, it ended with you two teaming up to pull off one hell of a heist. And the aftermath? Well, let's just say you left Toji more than satisfied with the outcome.

When you two enter the parlor, it seems the gambling table has changed as well as the dealer, Toji notices. You both observe the dealer, placing three cards face down on the table. He shows one card - the 4 of diamonds - to the players around the table before setting it down and wildly shuffling them. When he’s finished and all three cards lie in a line on the table, one of the men selects a card, and they all erupt in a string of curses when it’s wrong.

Beside Toji, you scoff. “This’ll be a easy night, looks like.” You glance up at him, a teasing smirk on your lips. “Please don’t tell me ya lost all your money gamblin’ on goddamn Three-Card Monte,” you murmur just loud enough for Toji to hear. “All ya gotta do is find the damn card.”

“Can’t lose what I ain’t got,” Toji chuckles. “Come on.”

Of course you’d enjoy this game, he thinks. Three-Card Monte, or Find the Lady. It’s a card game in which the marks, or the players, are tricked into thinking they can find the “money card” among three face-down cards. It seems so simple, but if the dealer is anyone worth his salt, it’s easy to fuck the players over. Make them think they have a chance, so they just keep betting until they’ve got nothing left to lose. 

But of course, you’re a step ahead. This dealer thinks he’ll be playing you, when it’s really the other way around.

“Ya ready?” You question. “Let's make it quick.”

Sounds like Toji doesn’t have a choice. Looks like he’s pulling off a heist tonight. His ex-outlaw heart sings.

He approaches the table with you on his arm just as two men free up seats for you when they opt out of playing any further. You take a seat beside Toji, carefully adjusting your skirt, removing your hat and setting it in your lap. The dealer eyes you, he eyes your bosom unabashedly, grinning when you tilt your head and fix him with a curious look.

“Good evening, sir,” you speak softly and Toji watches you work your magic. “What are we playing tonight?”

The dealer chuckles, shuffling his cards in his hands. “We are playin’ Three-Card Monte, pretty darlin’.” He leans forward, the thick and nasty stench of his cigar breath making Toji’s nostrils burn. “I’d explain how to play it to ya, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep up with the rules. This fine gentleman here, however,” he turns his attention to Toji. “Would you like to buy in, sir?”

Toji’s gaze cuts to you. If the dealer’s statements bother you, it doesn’t show. Your smile doesn’t falter in the least. “You’re so considerate.” Your voice is soft and sweet, but Toji hears the bitterness behind your words. “I’m so fortunate my darlin’ husband here…” you reach over and caress Toji’s arm, nails dragging along his skin in a way you know will leave goosebumps in their wake. “...He took pity on poor lil’ me and taught me to play. Right, dear?”

You beam up at Toji, all soft and loving, and he wants to laugh to cover up the way his heart races – one, because you’ve referred to him as your husband which he’s embarrassed to admit doesn’t sound too bad. Two, because you involving him in your little game tonight excites him in more ways than one. He hasn’t felt the thrill of pulling off a heist in some time, his luck almost never panning out the way he wants. But now that he’s run into you, he’s sure it’s going to take a turn for him.

“Yep,” he affirms. “And I’ll teach ya whatever else your lil’ heart wants, angel.” Toji grins, enjoying the way your brows rise just barely at the pet name, some emotion he can’t place behind your eyes. He can’t dwell too long because he’s eyeing the dealer, whose gaze is glued to your breasts again. Toji roughly clears his throat, grabbing the man’s attention. “She’ll buy in.”

“If ya say so.” Of course the dealer isn’t going to argue. You’re what he thinks is the easiest mark of his night.

The first game goes exactly how Toji imagined you’d have it play out. The dealer tells you he’ll be generous and do a practice round for you so that you can “wrap your pretty head around the rules”, and you agree. You of course don’t find the card, or so the dealer is made to believe. But you enthusiastically agree to an actual game.

The first real game, you bet low, telling the dealer that you’re just too nervous to bet too much money, and you’re not sure if your dear husband would approve.

“Put down as much as ya like, angel,” Toji pushes eagerly, earning him a quick scowl from you, covered by a sweet giggle.

“Do you want me to lose all of our money, dear?” You ask, the real question hardly concealed beneath your words.

It’s not your money to bet, so shut the fuck up.

Your foot connects with Toji’s leg beneath the table, just to drive the message home. Toji grunts, covering the pain with a clearing of his throat.

The dealer places the cards face down on the table, then picks the one on your left up. He shows it to you – the Queen of Hearts. 

Fitting, Toji thinks, what with the way the dealer winks at you before he shuffles the cards around quickly then settles them into position. A cocky smile spreads across the dealer's face. He knows where the card is. And knowing you, you probably do, too.

So Toji sits back and lets you play cards while playing dumb in the dealer's face. 

You lose this round, and he can tell it’s on purpose this time, pouting cutely and making the dealer blush a deep red as he shakes his head. “Chin up, darlin’. Why don’t ya place another bet. See if your luck changes.”

“I think I will,” you declare, nodding. 

You place the same small bet and let the dealer do his job. When the cards are settled, you tap your index finger on your chin, pretending to think really hard about it. Then, in feigned hesitation, you select a card. Toji watches proudly, relishing the way the dealer’s eyes widen when he lifts the card and turns it in your direction.

“Oh! I won!” You grab hold of Toji’s arm, your mouth slightly agape as you motion for him to look.

“Look at you,” he purrs, taking hold of your hand. He lifts it to his lips, turning it slightly to press a kiss to your wrist, right where your pulse lies, grinning when you inhale sharply. “Knew ya could do it, angel.”

Your teeth press into your lip, a shy look on your face now. Only for a moment, then you’re shaking it off as you turn back to the dealer. “I’d like to bet more, please.”

He deals you in again, a slight look of displeasure on his face when you somehow end up winning once more. And then you win again, and again. The dealer’s fingers drum rhythmically against the table in annoyance, eyeing you suspiciously.

Now, Toji gambles, but he doesn’t gamble the way you do. His days as an outlaw involved doing anything that involved brute force. He was good at that. Need someone manhandled? You pay the right price and he’ll take the job. Got a bounty out on someone’s head? Dangle a bag of money in Toji’s face and he’ll do it. But when he left his outlaw days behind, and fell into a habit of placing bets he couldn’t make good on, he quickly figured out that all the sneaky counting cards and sleight of hand shit was beyond him. He did, however, pick up on a few things.

Like now, when he notices two random men have joined either side of you and Toji to play the game. They’re obviously shills, there to try and assist the dealer in trying to cheat you out of your winnings. The shill beside Toji places his bet, the dealer shuffling the cards quickly to confuse him. He loses, pretending to be upset when the dealer moves onto you.

You place your bet - a large sum, larger than any you’ve put in tonight and Toji’s brows rise.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?”

It’s your money, sure, but you must feel pretty confident in your ability to win if you’re willing to put so much on the line. 

You nod, lips curling in a smile while you watch the dealer shuffle. “Yes, dear. I think this will be my best round yet. I just know I’ll have fun with this one!”

There’s something about that sentence that puts Toji on edge. Especially when the other man on your side leans over, engaging you in conversation while the dealer shows you the target card – the King of Diamonds. It’s a ploy to distract you, even Toji knows that. They want you to take your gaze off of the cards so that you can’t keep track of where the target is. But you stay focused even as you entertain the man, nodding along to the conversation as you pay attention to the way the cards are moved around.

It feels like forever before the dealer stops and sets the cards down. He waves his hand over them, waiting for you to pick.

You think hard, seriously this time. Toji watches the way the dealer eyes you, sweat beading along his forehead. Likely from nerves, because you’ve been sweeping the floor with him for the last few rounds and he’s sure he doesn’t want to lose more money. If you lost this large bet, you could walk away clean and go on with your night. Toji doubts it’d put a dent in your pocket. With all the heists you’ve pulled off, especially your most recent, he’s pretty sure you’re set for quite a while.

But your eyes meet the dealers, your hand floating back and forth above the cards before coming down to point to a card and the dealer makes a noise that sounds something like a mixture of a scoff and chuckle. There’s certainty in his expression as his fingers flip the card over, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Miss. Looks like you’ll have to –” he swallows his words when he sees the King of Diamonds sitting beneath his fingertips. “H-how?!”

You bat your lashes innocently. “How what, sir?”

The dealer's hand slams down hard on the table, shaking the winning bets and silencing the parlor. The pianist freezes on the keys, the bartenders stop making their drinks, the guests stop speaking, all heads turning to the table where you and Toji sit. The shills now stand, and Toji’s eyes track their movements. One directly behind you, the other to the side of him.

The dealer grits his teeth, face red with rage as he now screams. “You’re cheatin’!”

You gasp, hand coming to your chest to clutch your imaginary pearls. “I beg your pardon, sir!”

“Oh, shut your fuckin’ mouth! I know you’re cheatin’!” 

“I-I’m just playin’ the game, sir.” You turn to Toji, mock concern on your face. “Right, dear? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

And Toji nods, keeping the ruse going. “Of course, angel.” He sees the anger continue to rise for the dealer the more this drags on, his hands flexing into fists repeatedly. Does he plan to try and hit you? He hopes not, for his own sake. “That’s a serious accusation,” Toji tells the dealer. “You’d better have good proof of my wife cheatin’. You know cheatin’ at cards means hangin’ in the town square.”

“Ya want proof? Look!” The dealer flips all three cards laid out on the table, and there lies the evidence with only one Three of Clovers lying there, and two Kings of Diamonds in the spread. “See?! I knew somethin’ wasn’t right with this broad! Ain’t nobody ever won Three-Card Monte this many times when I’m dealin’ the cards! You’re slippin’ cards onto the table!”

So he’s a cheat, too. Toji should’ve called that. There’s hardly a noble and honest person working in these establishments. Even still, it boils his blood for some reason. 

It may be the fact that Toji has lost most of his savings in this very building tonight, or it may be the way this slimeball has been eyeing you up and down all night trying to see how many times, how many ways and probably in how many positions he could take advantage of you, or the fact that he’s now speaking to you like tar stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Regardless, he’s getting pissed.

Toji’s gaze catches yours briefly, and you purse your lips together. He can see the wheels turning, trying to think of an excuse as to how this could happen. Everyone in the building is holding their breath, and more staff have gathered around to see what the commotion is. Toji counts about three more men around you that he believes may be with the dealer. Jaw tight, he waits for your next move.

You giggle, shaking your head as you sit your hat back atop your head, and Toji watches your mask slip off in real time. “Can’t believe this shit,” you sigh. “This damn shill,” you gesture to the man standing behind you. “He’s good.” The dealer sees your change, too, finger jutting out to point straight at you.

“I-I know you! You’re that outlaw bitch! The one that’s wanted all over for cheatin’ at cards, murder, breakin’ out of jail, and–”

“Aww, the train robbery ain’t at the top of the list yet?” You interrupt, leaning back in your seat with a pout. “Feel like that’s my best work.” You grab hold of the dealer’s finger - swift and easy, bending it back roughly, the man screaming out in pain and doubling over onto the table. “Ya got me,” you whisper teasingly in his ear. “Gimme my earnin’s and I’ll just be on my merry way. No need to cause a ruckus.”

“You fuckin’ whore, I’ll-” The man winces, crying out when you bend his finger further. 

“I’d think real careful ‘bout your next words if you don’t wanna lose a finger.”

“Okay! O-okay!” The dealer concedes. “Just take it ‘nd get the fuck out of here!”

Toji can’t help but watch in awe…and arousal…witnessing you in your natural element again. You’re wild, impulsive, insane. So much so, you’ve got everyone else in this parlor frozen in shock as you pocket your winnings. They can’t seem to wrap their heads around a woman being so outwardly bold to commit a crime out in the open, and proudly, the way you are. It’s admirable; it reminds Toji of when he was at his best as an outlaw, maybe better. 

You glance at Toji, tilting your head towards the money and he snaps out of his reverie and begins to move, pocketing what he can, too.

“Keep whatever ya grab,” you offer, and Toji grins. His adrenaline is pumping, heart pounding behind his ribcage as he grabs all he’s able to. This is a feeling he hasn’t experienced in so long. The feeling of winning. He doesn’t ever want to come down from this high.

When your pockets are full, tied tightly and secured, you finally release the dealer who whimpers as he holds his finger to his chest. He looks about ready to rip your head off, but his eyes dart to Toji who looms over him, daring him to say something and the dealer thinks better of it.

Now all that’s left to do is leave this place quickly and quietly. Maybe grab something to eat and find some place to sleep.

You tip your hat, and just as you turn to leave, the dealer reaches over the table and grabs hold of your dress sleeve. He yanks you forward harshly, dragging you across the table.

“I’ll kill ya, bitch!” He raises his fist and you laugh, covering your face with your arms, anticipating the hit.

You wait for him to make contact, but the hit never comes. You only hear the sickening crack of bone meeting bone, and then you’re falling hard onto the floorboards a second later. Women gasp and race out of the establishment along with some men, but the remaining people step back to take in the scene. Peeking through your arms, you see Toji’s large body standing over the unconscious and bleeding dealer. 

You scramble to your feet and dart over to Toji. His eyes are hard, jaw clenched as he stares down at the man. “Toji,” you whisper, shocked yourself at what he’s done.

“He should watch his fuckin’ mouth when he speaks to ya,” he grunts, and you can’t help but erupt into laughter. And you laugh hard, until you’re doubled over and holding your stomach.

You lean against Toji’s arm, grinning as you nudge him. “You soft for me or somethin’?”

The question doesn’t even register to Toji, because in that moment, one of the shills finally finds his courage again, rushing towards you and Toji with a beer bottle in hand. “You son of a bitch!” He shouts, charging at Toji, but you’re quick to grab hold of a chair, using all your strength and swinging the piece of furniture at the man. You miss, but it buys Toji enough time to grab a chair of his own and launch it across the parlor, slamming into the back of another man at the bar.

He spins around, face contorted in rage, barking out, “who the fuck threw that?!”

You point to the shill, who points to Toji, who points to himself.

The stranger looks confused, but still furious. And he rushes towards you all, elbowing his way through the crowd as he barrels forward. He shoves several men around, all of whom are too drunk off their asses to realize what’s going on. They only know it’s getting rough here and they need to defend themselves. It only takes one drunk bastard to throw the first punch, and then it’s all out chaos. Arms are being thrown, furniture is flying, the floors are slippery with the mixture of alcohol and blood. 

Toji ducks, avoiding a stray punch aimed at him, only to receive a shove in the back. He spins around, catching a man by his collar and easily tossing him aside and knocking the lights out of another man who lunges at him. It’s complete insanity here, so loud and chaotic and in the midst of it all…he finds himself having a good fucking time. This is fun for him. His fist meets the stomach of one man and his heart soars. A knee to the face of another man and his lips spread in a wide grin. His palm comes down to slam someone’s head against the table, rendering them unconscious and Toji chuckles.

Even with the cacophony of punching and screaming and cursing, Toji can hear your wild laughter floating throughout the space.

You’re going toe to toe with grown men, using whatever weapon you can get your hands on and it’s not even about defending yourself anymore. You’re simply enjoying the frenzy. You don’t care if the sheriffs show up, if they put cuffs on you and throw you in the slammer. You’re used to that. You don’t care if your involvement here means a death sentence. Why would you when you’ve been sentenced to death in multiple towns across the prairie and have managed to escape every attempt to put you down?

Toji admires that about you, admires that you don’t give two shits. You’re only interested in doing what you love and if lying and cheating and violence is what you love, then hell, he loves it, too. So Toji lets himself have fun with you.

He throws another punch, relishing the disgusting sound of a nose bone being crushed beneath his fist.

He erupts with laughter when he wraps one of his large arms around a man’s neck and he squeezes until Toji feels him fall limp to the floor.

He lifts a leg, smirking when his foot connects dead center in the chest of a man wielding a blade and sends him flying across the room.

Then in the chaos, his back connects with yours and you both swing around, ready to take out the next person. But it’s just you. You, and your jagged whiskey bottle that you’ve busted over someone’s head and hold out defensively in front of you. The poor victim of the impact lays unconscious at your feet. 

Toji takes these few seconds to drink you in, the way the shy and innocent mask you had on upon entry to the parlor is long gone, leaving behind the wild outlaw he’s come to know over the years. He takes in the way your chest heaves, breasts barely contained within the confines of your corset. How you’re covered in blood and grime that he’s certain isn’t yours.

The violence and commotion behind you makes for quite the backdrop to this image he’s committing to his memory. He’s never seen a woman so beautiful.

Your lips part just slightly and Toji’s eyes dart down to the movement. You drop the liquor bottle, not caring that it knocks against the unconscious man on the floor’s head and shatters next to him. Your feet move, carrying you over to Toji until he’s just within arms reach. You’re giving him that same look you had in the alley just earlier, chewing your lip and looking like you want to eat him alive.

And he’ll let you.

Because the feeling is definitely mutual, evidence of his desire only growing in his pants. He shouldn’t be surprised that this is where the night is heading, as it’s led to this many times. But something about tonight has Toji particularly excited. So, he reaches a hand forward, hooking his fingers in the front of your corset and yanks you forward. You throw your arms around his neck, and your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, full of tongue and teeth and groans. His hands palm your ass, lifting you easily and you wrap your legs around his waist. Toji presses your core against him, at the same time he feels your holstered gun press into his side and it only makes him harder. He moves your body, dragging your center along his hardening length.

“Where’re ya stayin’?” You gasp into the kiss, and Toji steps to the side just in time for a bottle to whizz past your heads.

“Brothel up the street,” Toji groans when you dip your head low to drag your lips along his neck. You break away to stare down at him, only smirking in response.

Yes, this night is headed exactly where he thought it would.

-

Your back hits the wall hard, knocking the wind out of you and sending a painting that hangs on the wall to its demise as it falls to the floor and shatters to pieces. You barely have time to catch your breath after Toji has broken away from your nipples, courtesy of him freeing them from your corset halfway up the stairs to his room.

“Fuck, ya always feel so good,” Toji lets out of a garbled moan, his lips finding your neck as you grip his hair.

“Thinkin’ about me a lot, huh? So, ya are soft for me?” You ask, a giggle falling from your lips, only to be cut off when Toji presses his thick length to your core. “Ah– fuck, Toji,” you cry out. You moan when he sucks hard. 

He’ll surely leave a mark, and some part of Toji finds that he likes the idea of you strolling around with the brand he’d left on you on display for all to see. He wants men to see you, see you’ve been marked up by someone else and wonder who you go home to at night. Even if it’s not Toji, at least it was him who made it crystal clear that you laid with someone who wasn’t them the night before.

He loves the idea that he gets to have you, because you choose to let him have you. It’s not a part of some scheme you’ve come up with, you don’t have some ulterior motive. You don’t want anything but to get your fill for the night, and you want to get your fill from him. You want him to have you, and the thought has him grinding his clothed erection against you in a desperate attempt to gain some friction between the two of you.

You tug at Toji’s strands, moaning at the way he ruts against you, how his tongue slides smoothly across your pulse. “Shitttt, don’t hold back,” you gasp, and Toji can’t help but chuckle.

“When have I ever, angel?”

The pet name has you looking at Toji the way you had earlier. A flash of something unfamiliar behind your gaze, gone as quickly as it appeared and your hands crash down on Toji’s chest, shoving him back. He sets you down and you shake your head, wasting no time in falling to your knees without him having to say so. He watches you lift your skirt, unholstering your gun and carelessly tossing it aside. Then you undo his pants, pull the fabric down until his clothing sits in a pool at his ankles.

Your hands wrap around his cock, thick and veiny and pump him slowly. Toji grunts, placing his palms against the wall as he enjoys the view of you kissing the underside of his dick.

“Like that, angel,” he sighs when you run your tongue over the fat vein that runs all the way from his balls to his tip. “Fuuuck…”

Your tongue reaches his head, where a bead of precum sits and you lap it up greedily, grinning when Toji’s legs tremble just slightly. “Like this?” You ask, swirling your tongue around him slowly just before you take his entire length to the base.

Toji hisses, hips bucking forward on instinct. He grits his teeth, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you swallow around him. Your throat squeezes him deliciously and he can’t stop the pathetic groans falling from his lips. You bob around him, hollowing your cheeks as you suck and take all of him with every bob of your head.

When Toji’s cock nudges your throat and you gag around him, Toji hisses. “Yes, yes, stay there,” he grits out. You hum around him, eyes alight with mischief and Toji’s back stiffens. The vibration shoots straight through to his cock and Toji leans his forehead against the wall to keep from losing his balance at the sensation. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.” 

Toji’s mouth parts slightly, a rough groan leaving his lips. You’re toying with him, the way you toy with everyone. You love this shit, love having whoever you set your sights on going crazy over you. You’ve got those cute lips of yours wrapped perfectly around his cock, working him closer to his release and you’re enjoying every second of bringing him to the edge. It doesn’t help when you hold eye contact with Toji while you take him in your mouth, all the way down until your nose is buried in his soft pubic hair while you lift your skirt and slip your hands into your undergarments.

Your brows knit together, moans muffled by Toji’s dick in your throat while you touch yourself. The image is so arousing, your lips stretched around him while your mouth is full. He can’t help but buck forward – once, twice, and then he’s fucking your mouth all on his own.

“Yessss, play with that pretty pussy for me,” Toji groans. He’s fucking your face at a frantic pace, and you’re taking every stroke he gives. “Ah, fuuuuck –” Toji pants, a hand coming down to hold the back of your head. He pushes your head down, forcing your throat open to take his entire swollen length down your throat, occasionally holding you there for a moment, loving the sound of you choking on his dick and your saliva more than any sound he’s ever heard you make. The mixture of your fluids drips messily down your chin, and still, Toji keeps fucking your face until you’re gagging and squeezing around him.

He pulls out, holding the base of his cock tightly. Because he’s watching you - mouth agape as you gasp for you, chin glistening and lips swollen with her hand in your pants. The sight is so sexy, so arousing, he thinks he could paint your face right this second.

You inhale sharply, swallowing as much air as you can. Your fingers tease at your clit, dipping inside your walls just briefly before your breath hitches and you whimper a pathetic challenge. “Don’t tell me you’re done already.”

And Toji grins, easily shoving himself back into your mouth. He’s even rougher with you if possible, and you seem to love it that way, keening around him as your fingers rub tight circles on your clit. He pulls away from you once, brows pulled together as he tries to catch his breath while he makes you take him down to the hilt over and over again. “Fuckin’ hell, angel. Takin’ my dick so good for me. Your throat feels so fuckin’ good. Don’t move–”

Toji scrambles forward, grunting and pressing his length all the way down your throat, so far, so desperate to feel you squeeze around him again that he’s got your head up against the wall. There’s nowhere for you to go as his hips buck forward. 

“Fuckin’ take it, swallow my cock, fuck–” 

Your hand finds his thigh, squeezing tight while the other works you closer and closer to your release. It feels way too good, better than any woman, any mouth Toji’s ever been in. His balls are tight, slapping loud and wet against your chin as he slams into your face.

He hears you, hears your moans as the rise in pitch, getting higher and higher with every thrust of his hips, every press of your fingers against yourself.

“Gonna cum, angel?”

You whimper in response, unable to nod or speak, while Toji’s got his dick stuffed into your throat.

“Cum for me, then. Make a mess on your fingers while I fuck your mouth,” he grunts, hips snapping forward.

Your eyes roll back, nostrils flaring as you dip your fingers into your core and feel your walls fluttering around them. Your release washes over you with such intensity, your legs begin to shake, tears begin forming at the corners of your eyes, drool falls in thick strings from your lips. And all the while, Toji is still fucking into your mouth. 

The sight is one he wants to burn into his memory. You - the woman who just a few hours ago knocked men on their asses, cheated and won and still somehow escaped without punishment - now getting off on getting him off. 

He’ll be sure to remember you on your knees for him, bringing yourself to ecstasy while your mouth is stuffed with his cock, tits bouncing with every thrust and –

Oh, he’s gonna cum.

Toji tells you as much, then moves to pull out, but you press your hands to the backs of his thighs and pull him back into your mouth, staring up at him as if begging for his cum.

And when you look at him like that, how could he ever say no?

He presses forward, mouth falling open with a loud and guttural moan as he finally reaches his peak. Toji’s body tenses, cock stiffening and thighs trembling as he twitches in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him deeper if that’s even possible, and Toji’s moans only grow in volume. His cum shoots from his swollen tip, straight into your throat and you gag on the sheer amount of it.

“Fuckin’ swallow,” Toji growls, watching the way you struggle to handle all he’s giving you. “Don’t waste a fuckin’ drop. Swallow it for me, angel.”

And you do as you’re told, gulping down every thick rope of cum that paints your esophagus. When you finally release your hold on Toji, his cock softening between your lips, you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering while you wipe away the remnants of you and Toji’s deed.

“Almost killed me,” you jokingly complain, voice rough from the abuse your throat just took.

Toji chuckles, stepping back and taking your hands to help you stand. “Guess we’re even, then. I mean, ya almost got me killed tonight.”

You giggle and shake your head, pressing your palm to his chest, pushing Toji backwards until his knees hit the end of the bed and he falls back with a loud oof. You lift your skirt, climbing atop Toji and straddling his hips, and Toji would be lying if he said he wasn’t hard all over again.

“Hope ya ain’t got all that gettin’ even feelin’ out just yet, because I can think of plenty of times ya almost got me killed.” You lean forward, a hand on each side of Toji’s head and his hands find your breasts, still free from your corset. He cups both soft mounds, idly running his thumbs over your nipples and drinking in the expression you make when you moan without your mouth being stuffed full.

Toji grins, eyes honed in on the way your breasts feel in his hands. “Like the horse stealin’. That rancher almost blew your top off.”

Your lips spread with a smirk. “Well, if ya hadn’t been so fuckin’ loud when we were in the barn, he would’ve never woke up!”

Toji scoffs, “Well, ya snuck a finger in my ass! I ain’t ever had that happen! How the hell was I supposed to know it’d feel like that?!”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, reminiscing on all the crazy shit you two have gotten into over the years. You make Toji miss his outlaw days, almost make him want to go back to it. But that life’s not for him anymore. Though, it is fun to dabble in it from time to time, only with you.

Your lips find Toji’s, tender and sweet. Until - like all things you do - it’s not. It quickly turns heated, your hands dipping into Toji’s dark tresses while your lips lock in a searing kiss. You both make quick work of ridding each other of any clothing, hands roaming each other’s bodies once you’re bare.

It’s a fight for dominance in this bed. Who can kiss harder, who can leave more marks, who can pull the most moans from the other? The bed rocks with every movement, the headboard banging against the wall as Toji flips you over, pinning you to the bed with his body weight.

You hum, your hand ghosting across Toji’s muscular ass. “This looks familiar.” You take a finger along the seam of his behind and Toji inhales sharply. “Ah…by that ya meant…it felt good. Should I do it again?”

Toji’s head dips down, the tip of his nose touching yours as he breathes, “let's see where the night goes.” He slips inside of you, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

You move together, losing yourself in the passion of the night, disregarding the way the bed shakes.

And the way the photos and paintings fall from the walls.

And the way the headboard beats dents into the paint.

And the way the head mistress bangs on the door.

And - 

-

The morning sun blazes high in the sky, shining through the thin curtains of Toji’s room. He stretches his noticeably sore body, yawning as he lets himself slowly wake up. 

What a night - and morning. He knows he needs to hightail it out of town soon to keep from being identified as your accomplice at the parlor last night. He can’t sit around dawdling all day.

Toji sits up in his bed, already knowing it’s pointless to glance at the other side and wonder where you went. Of course, true to form, you’d made a smooth and quick exit. You’re probably long gone by now, wreaking havoc in another town. He tries not to take it personally that you likely didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

He slides off the bed, wincing when he feels a sharp sting of pain in his foot. He lifts his leg, pieces of wood falling to the floor where remnants of what appears to be a broken side table lie. His eyes scan the room, and the absolute mess all over. It looks like a damn tornado ripped through here.

Chairs thrown aside, a shattered mirror and pieces of glass all across the floor, broken art all over. He doesn’t remember you two being that rough with each other last night. 

His stomach grumbles angrily, not allowing him to dwell on the mess he’s already planning on leaving behind. He searches his room for his discarded clothes, slipping on the items before he finds his bag. He’ll make a quick exit and slip out, hop on his horse and get the hell out of this town.

Toji’s not sure what he was expecting when he went to find his belongings. Maybe that you’d have taken them with you, just because it would have made you laugh to know you had your way with him then took all he owns. He certainly wasn’t expecting to find the fancy cowboy hat you wore last night sitting beside his bag, or to find a pouch of silver in his bag with a note inside. Toji unrolls the piece of paper, green eyes skimming the words.

“for the luck you keep sayin’ you ain’t got. hope that changes”

He shakes his head, a goofy smile on his face as he counts the money left for him. And it’s enough for him to get by for a while, enough for him to enjoy a bit of gambling, too.

Toji will have to thank you the next time he sees you. If you survive that long. But he doesn’t doubt that you will.

He slings his bag over his shoulder, exiting his room. He’s sure to close the door, hiding the horrendous disorder he’s leaving behind. Toji’s feet carry him down the stairs to the main floor of the brothel where it’s already bustling inside, people sitting down to enjoy breakfast. He’d have a seat, too, but he can’t risk sticking around in case someone recognizes him from the parlor. Or sees that damn room. As hungry as he is, he needs to go.

Toji maneuvers around those who stand around the room, idly chatting with each other. He’s about halfway across the room when someone calls out to him - a man’s voice. He could keep walking, ignore the man, but that would only make him look suspicious. It’s important for him to not draw attention. So Toji stops, spinning on his heel and coming face to face with the man calling out to him.

“Pardon me, sir. I’ve asked everybody in here, but no one knows a thing,” he explains as he approaches. He stops in his tracks, gaze locked on the top of Toji’s head. “Nice hat…” The man points towards the new item Toji wears.

“Thanks.”

The man stares for a few more seconds before he inhales sharply and continues. “I got word of a bar fight here last night…started by a woman.” The man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper and unfolding it. He holds the paper out to Toji, who just glares at it. 

It’s you. Your face on a WANTED poster, beaming happily in your mugshot with the largest bounty he’s ever seen on your head.

Toji eyes the younger man - long, black hair, violet eyes and strangely stretched ears. He wonders why he’s asking about you. To collect the bounty? No, he doesn’t look the type.

“What about her?” Toji asks.

The man runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “I’m lookin’ for her. Ran into her once and…” He sighs again, like it pains him to think about his run in with you. And Toji is sure it does. That’s typically how you leave men (and women) in your wake. Spiraling and chasing any trail you may leave behind. “I just need to find her.”

Toji adjusts the weight of his bag on his shoulder. “Ain’t seen her in my life,” he answers simply. He doesn’t wait for a response from the man. He turns, making his way out of the brothel before the stranger has a chance to follow.

The man stands there, unblinking as he watches Toji’s form retreat from the brothel. His violet eyes narrow, the rage he feels bubbling in his chest. He could act now, because he’s fairly certain that what he feels is correct. 

Whatever happened last night, it involved you.

Whoever that scar lipped man is, he knows you.

He has his hat, the one you stole from him the last time he’d seen you.

But acting on his hunch would only bring unwanted attention. So he takes a deep breath, exhaling any anger he feels. After all, he’s positive that he’s one step closer to finding you again.

[glossysoap]

beard burn ; john price

summary: my thoughts on riding prices face <3

18+, afab & curvy coded reader but as always it can be read as size neutral! @vgilantee i’m so sorry this took so long 😭 but if it’s any consolation,,, i stayed up until 4 am to write this LMAO also if you want something longer like 2k+ pls let me know <3 also if it’s not the best/longest pls be gentle bc this was whipped up in like an hour (instead of days lol)

he wouldn’t put up with any hesitation on your part. he would chuckle at any qualms you had about ‘crushing him’. if suffocating between your thighs was how he was meant to go, then so be it. better there than on a battlefield.

“don’t just fuckin’ hover, love. sit.” he would growl into your inner thigh, canines nipping at your soft skin. his thick beard scratching your flesh and already giving a slight sting. you let out a yelp as his big arms snaked around your plush thighs to yank you down, so you had no choice but to sit on his face with your full weight.

you grabbed onto the headboard in front of you to steady yourself. though it quickly became what you desperately clutched onto for purchase as he wasted no time in devouring you.

“oh, fuck,” you gasped, heart pounding in your ears at both his words and his mouth devouring you whole. the obscene wet sounds he was making with his mouth and your wetness didn’t help either.

“mmm, taste so fuckin’ good.” he groans into your cunt as his tongue works on licking your slit. “would stay between these thighs all day if i could.”

his mouth was so fucking messy and sloppy on your cunt, and so loud as he groaned and moaned into you. his tongue worked furiously as he lapped up your juices, flattening his tongue and then licking a wide stripe along your entrance.

moans spill out of your mouth as he keeps up his ministrations, his tongue dipping inside your soaking cunt and his nose rubbing up against your clit. his beard scratching your thighs only added to the sensations that were overwhelming you.

“love this pussy so much,” his words send a vibration through your core, making that knot in your stomach grow even tighter. “so fuckin’ wet for your captain. soakin’ me.”

then his tongue licked upwards to your swollen clit, flicking over the sensitive bud over and over. you felt yourself growing closer as you cried out his name and clutched onto the headboard even tighter.

you grind down onto his face involuntarily, chasing that intense pleasure that his lips and tongue provided. he smiled against your pussy as he felt you rock against his mouth, desperate to come.

“mmm, yeah, that’s it!” he eggs you on, voice all muffled as he keeps licking and sucking. “ride my face, c’mon.”

“mmm, feels so good,” you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. you were so fucking close, you could almost taste it. just a little bit more and you knew you’d be falling off the edge.

“c’mon, come for me.” he murmurs into your cunt, feeling your lips flutter against his mouth. he moved one hand away from your thigh only to slip it between your legs, easily sliding two thick fingers into your cunt next to his tongue. he hears your choked out cry as he scissors his fingers in your soaked pussy, feeling you clench around him so tight. “c’mon, give it to me. now.”

then he wraps his lips around your swollen clit and sucks on the sensitive bundle of nerves, all while still plunging his fingers inside your cunt.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he hears you wail as your orgasm crashes into you like a harsh wave. his tongue keeps licking and his fingers keep pumping as you squirt all over his mouth and his palm. he only pulls away from your sensitive cunt when you lightly pat his head, almost swatting him away.

when he let you climb off him, you saw his beard was wet and shiny, absolutely soaked from all of your juices.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

🏷️: @divine--serenity @violet-phantoms @ghastlybirdie @jumbojazzcats93 @loveyhoneydovey @stargirlrchive @itzzjxlyn @blissful-bunny @damnirina @wrathofcats @claymorexpunisher @krakenbabe @luvecarson @mandalover2023 @undeadsthings @kiroshang @warenai @viylikescats @cassiecasluciluce @lordlydragon @bunnyreaper @blackrose4242 @ansaturn @kenqki @zittles3000 @theloneshadow24 @moonriseoverkyoto @ivymarquis

[lucysarah-c]

Not in season?

Summary: Winter had settled in, and the scouts were busy training and preparing for the prospects of spring, still far away, to retake Wall Maria. Despite the snow accumulating outside, the building was freezing cold, and the world had secluded itself until the temperature rose. So, why was Captain Levi boiling in his own body? Something felt off, but his mind was quickly slipping into insanity as he tried to find a rational explanation. Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. I'm self-conscious about my smut, so… practice makes perfect. That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me. Pairing: Levi x fem! reader. Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Levi Ackerman, Top Levi Ackerman, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Knotting, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, Breeding, Forced breeding, Biting, Breeding Kink, dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Forced Pregnancy, Unsafe Sex, Nurse reader, Alpha Levi x Omega reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Captain Levi x Nurse Reader, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Alpha Hange Zo��, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Erwin Smith, Alpha Eren Yeager, Alpha Jean Kirstein, Alpha Mikasa Ackerman. Omegaverse. Word count: 8.6k words of pure porn. You had been warned lmao

Saliva accumulated in his mouth, pooling before he spat it into the sink. The rush of water from the tap washed away the residue as he continued spitting and splashing his face with cold water. A sense of uneasiness clouded his mind, lingering like the scent of smoke. He had showered, shaved, tidied his hair, cleaned under his nails, changed clothes, and brushed his teeth. What else was there to do?

A thick, almost sticky sensation coated his mouth, as if he had a stomach ache without the actual pain. Despite the cold weather, sweat formed on his forehead as he pushed the dark hairs out of the way, splashing his face with freezing water once more. Perhaps it was due to his inability to concentrate on work since early morning, causing him to pace around the room like a caged lion.

Correction, he did have a stomach ache, but he couldn't quite pinpoint the source or if it was even physically painful. It felt more uncomfortable than painful. Waves of acidic heat started in his groin and spread throughout his body. He had already consumed three cups of tea by 9 am. When he crossed paths with Erwin in the higher-ups' kitchen, the commander questioned him, noting the honey in all the teas. Unusual for him. Both of them were extremely busy, their minds preoccupied elsewhere. The commander didn't have time for extensive questioning, yet Levi couldn't shake off the extremely unpleasant sensation that Erwin's presence was the most annoying and irritating thing he had encountered.

"I'm craving something sweet," he added curtly, hoping it would suffice. It was true; he felt the need for something soft, sweet, cute, filling, and warm. He was irritable, easily bothered by Eren and Jean's silly actions during early practice. The display of youthful hormones and their desperate need for attention and dominance grated on his nerves. Oddly enough, he had grown accustomed to them and their displays of testosterone.

Newly presented alphas always behaved that way—baring teeth, growing, and fighting. Their disinterested and desperate cries for attention garnered no reaction from fully grown alphas. They were closer to pups playing pretend, training for future occasions in their lives than actual threats. Levi was sure of it, both as a mature alpha and as a high-bred one. Usually, the two boys only annoyed him with their strong, uncontrolled scents and nothing more.

However, that morning marked the moment he sensed something was off. Eren's insistence on asserting his dominance over the Kirstein boy with his scent almost prompted Levi to interfere, baring his teeth and loudly declaring that he was the one in charge. It had never struck him in this way before, these two newly presented boys. On the contrary, in previous instances, it had strengthened his sense of responsibility and paternal instinct, correcting their behaviour when he felt the need to show them the right way to behave. The captain secretly blamed that time spent alone with his squad in the cabin or Eren's fresh presentation under his watch at the former HQ.

Women usually precede such occurrences, they naturally present earlier than boys. So the Ackerman girl must have sensed something, her penetrating dark eyes never leaving his figure during training. Levi's suspicions were confirmed as soon as he called it a day and left. He could no longer bear it.

“Finishing so early?” Erwin inquired when they crossed paths again. The taller man wrinkled his nose slightly but stood in place, demanding an answer.

“I feel like shit,” Levi spat out, giving his back to the taller man as he stopped on his way but refused to face the commander.

“I see,” Erwin replied before adding, “consider going to get checked by the nurse.”

Levi clenched his teeth irrationally. Once again, the blond’s presence felt utterly annoying. 'I know! I can smell it all over you,' he thought.

“She’s at her station. I just came from there as she was checking my arm,” Erwin explained calmly, obviously not considering a deeper topic. “Y/N is young, but she’s very-”

The commander was cut off mid-sentence as Levi turned over his shoulder, deadly piercing eyes, and hissed at the taller alpha. Erwin stood in place, denying the idea of backing up as he kept his eyes glued to the shorter soldier, completely confused. “Did you just hiss at me?”

Levi shook his head, as if trying to snap some sense into his brain. “Fuck, sorry,” he said, then returned to his pace, feeling the judging blue eyes of his superior stuck to the back of his head.

He contorted in pain, bending over his desk as his body burned. His skin felt as if it were boiling in his own blood. Saliva filled his mouth, his jaw clenched with uncontrolled tension. "Too many," his sharpened senses detected the repugnant stench of too many competitors surrounding him.

The military was full with Alphas, lower or higher breed, but most of the members were either that or betas. Omegas weren’t allowed, at least no at the main activity divisions. More appropriate positions were reserved for them if they desire or unless they were low quality breeds, in order to avoid creating unnecessary commotion during their heats.

"I don't understand," Levi cursed under his breath as he contorted in pain, his body drenched in sweat. He slumped against the desk chair, tilting his head back as ragged breaths escaped his accelerated mouth. Ruts were something that had almost disappeared since he joined the military, and he was grateful for that. Without constant exposure to the presence of omegas, most purebred alphas reduced their ruts to near non-existence. Nature was wise—why waste energy and precious seed when there was nobody to claim? It was better to save it for a worthy occasion. Yes, there were perhaps a couple of instances when his body experienced reactions during particular seasons, but they were easily manageable.

This, however, was all-consuming. It began and ended with each breath that left his lips.

"Fuck, it's like I'm 18 all over again," he cursed, recalling previous ruts. The muscles in his legs twitched and contorted as he spread them apart. Every fibre, hair, and cell in his body strained, expanded, tightened, and prepared with ecstasy at the idea of "Fight, win, dominate, claim, breed, and secure." All of these required him to be exceptional.

Levi had always been fearful of confessing to anyone, but being an Ackerman and an alpha was quite the combination. The Ackerman powers granted individuals increased strength, agility, and combat prowess. When combined with an alpha's innate physical abilities during a rut, an Ackerman alpha became an even more formidable force. Their already heightened strength and endurance would be further amplified, allowing them to excel in protecting their pack and omega.

The Ackerman powers also enhanced an individual's senses, including perception and reflexes. This heightened sensory awareness complemented an alpha's already acute sense of smell during a rut. The combination resulted in an alpha with incredibly sharp instincts, capable of swiftly detecting danger or sensing the presence of a compatible omega.

In conclusion, every inch of his body was working diligently to find a suitable partner. His fingers reached for the cravat around his neck, loosening the pressure and seeking some relief. The cold leather of the chair briefly provided a deceptive sense of calmness until it warmed up and clung to his body. Two, three buttons were undone, and the air within the office began to thicken with his own pheromones as his neck became exposed. These were shameful actions that his body performed of its own accord, attempting to attract a potential mate.

Dry chuckles reverberated in his chest as he contemplated the absurdity of it all. "I'm humanity's strongest soldier. I fought the entire MPs to put a queen on the throne. I don't need to produce a bunch of hormonal shit to show an interested partner that I'm strong enough." Because that's what his body was doing—it was a display, a show, a performance, almost, of virility, strength, and power.

The idea of being dominated by the very thing he was supposed to control made him shudder. He wasn't just any alpha; he was Levi Ackerman, the clean freak who prided himself on maintaining order and discipline. Yet here he was, a mere pawn in nature's cruel game. "Fucking biology," he growled under his breath as if cursing the very laws that governed him. He knew what he had to do, but it felt like betrayal. His mind screamed at him to resist, to fight against the urge but little he could do.

Hange was quick to slap the door open, enthusiastic, and wrinkled their nose at the odour inside. They covered their mouth and nose with their hands, the stink being too much to bear.

"God, get your shit together, shorty!" they replied almost immediately. “Fuck, I can even feel the pheromones in my mouth,”

Levi groaned uncomfortably before adding, "You think it was something I could control, I wouldn't just do it?" He spat out his words, contorting uneasily in the chair.

"I came because Erwin mentioned that you cancelled training earlier. Well, this just makes sense," the brunette paced around the room, keeping their distance. As an Alpha themselves, with a strong bond of camaraderie between them, the titan lover understood the other's need. "You seem too far into the rut already for me to give you something to shut it down."

Another uneasy groan escaped Levi; this was not happy news.

"You'll have to deal with it like a big boy. I could give you something to make you more docile…"

"Fuck it," he quickly complained, being docile and Levi weren't two words that mixed well.

"Yeah," Hange chuckled as they kneeled next to the desk to inspect the short man better. "I thought you'd say that…"

Brown eyes fixed on Levi as if he were Eren during an experiment. "What?" Levi quickly snapped, feeling too much under scrutiny.

"… may I see your fangs? I've never seen you bare them, and now that you've admitted with the whole Kenny stuff to be an Ackerman, I'm curious how they look."

He bared his teeth; he was no subject of tests. "Fuck off," he replied, clearly irritable, but the brunette laughed as the sight was there for them to behold.

"There they are… god, they are huge. Poor omega… that's why only their bodies are meant to support the mating," While Hange insisted on inspecting the Captain and rambling about biological details and dynamics, the other poor alpha of the room was dying of heat. His body wasn't taking it easy that he wasn't collaborating willingly to go out there and search for a mate, especially when he had allowed another alpha inside his territory. "Talking about omegas," Hange picked up the topic after their rambling, "who have you been around with to trigger a rut? There are no omegas in the scouts."

"You tell me!" he replied between clenched teeth, almost drawing blood as he felt the stitches in his groin and the imperious necessity to bite something down and hold it as he pounded into it.

"God, I better go before you think about bitching me," Hange commented, not meaning it seriously. "I'll let the rest know you're sick to leave you alone. I'll leave a tray of food at the door and a change of water."

Levi hummed a sort of reply; he felt so humiliated. The mere thought of not having control over his body felt like an insult to his honour, to everything he stood for.

"Cheer up, have fun pounding your pillows," Hange's sing-song voice came through the door as it closed behind them.

It took a tremendous effort to rise from his seat, walk to the door, and add the lock on. Only then did he pace around the room like a caged lion, closing the window despite his need for coldness and drawing the curtains. The last thing he needed was some stupid cadet watching him jerk off over his desk. He kicked his boots off and started to undo the harness; it was done, it was inevitable at this point. Neatly putting them away while he still had some semblance of self-control and lucidity in his brain. It was going to be a long ride, a good couple of days closed inside there, almost ready to tear his skin off because his body "claimed" that this was the rightful time for mating.

Uniform off, he took a cold shower, thinking that he might have little to no mind to do it later on. It wasn't his first rut, of course not, but it had been definitely a while since his last. And he had no fond memories of the previous experiences. Once showered, he felt slightly at ease, a drop of water for a man dying of dehydration. Sweatpants on, no bothering with underwear, not even a shirt. Like a man waiting to be hanged, he prepared for what was about to come while he still had time to prepare.

It was winter, but he felt as if the air burned his skin, so warm it felt. He took off the bed cover to avoid getting it dirty, leaving only the sheets. Before he could even notice, his teeth were biting into his pillow, triggering his mind into thinking it was something else and also muffling his sounds. Thick expert hips thrusting in rhythmic movements, seeking fraction and release, his right hand squeezing the base of his dick, simulating what an omega's hole would feel like. So he could knot and feel a wash of relief until it started again. And again.

First, the rut, then the heat. In nature, it's rather a simple dynamic. Alphas go into rut first to showcase their capabilities, and when the heat hits, omegas have probably already had their eyes on one or two alphas.

Third chamomile tea, warming up her hands. She sighed slowly, trying to calm down her pounding heart. His hands did a calming massage over her neck, but her hair was getting loose as it escaped the low braid she had done during work. Something was off; she couldn't quite put her finger on what, but she started to wonder if she had caught a cold. Her body trembled as she got a fever; despite her rising body temperature, she felt rather cold, craving the warmth of her tea. Anxious thoughts clouded her mind, unsure why.

As the new nurse of the scout, she felt most of the time rather pointless. They had been preparing to retake Wall Maria during winter; there weren't expeditions, and accidents during training weren't that frequent, luckily so! She didn't want to appear as if she was waiting for someone to get injured to justify her presence. Her presence there wasn't only new; she had freshly graduated, and the surprise that they had chosen her as the main nurse made her anxious and happy. But the scout facilities were deep into the training areas, and the place was quiet and busy. Perhaps too quiet sometimes.

'Captain Levi is sick,' 'Oh goddess, doesn't he need me to check him out? I saw him a couple of days ago to check the healing of his ankle, and he seemed just fine!' 'No… better leave him alone; he's grumpy by nature. Imagine when he's sick.'

The conversation of the day before yesterday stuck in her mind far too much for her liking. Perhaps because she had checked his ankle, and while it seemed to be healing suspiciously fast, Captain Levi had explicitly asked her not to tell anyone how serious the injury had been. Her mind began to wander; had he gotten it infected somehow? What if it was more than just a cold? What if he needed someone to change the cold cloth over his forehead?

But the moment that kept replaying in her mind was when he brewed her tea, almost proud of how he had secured a deal for the best supplies from the Reeves Company. The soft touch of their fingers, the piercing colour of his eyes fixed on her—these memories lingered with an underlying haze each time she entered the room, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was from her last visit, the previous week when her necklace had come loose and fallen to the ground. Levi's sharp eyes quickly found the silver piece and handed it back to her.

Feeling embarrassed, she attempted to fasten the necklace herself, but it was challenging. "Here, let me help you," he said, his calloused fingers moving her hair aside, knuckles ghostly brushing against her neck as he placed the necklace around it. The sensation left her feeling warm, her heartbeats echoing in her ears, and the inviting aroma of lavender and citrus filled the air, slightly musky. It made no sense; she was a beta!

'Maybe we both caught a cold.'

Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling above her, beneath the higher-ups' personal chambers. She knew that Levi's room wasn't directly above hers, but metaphorically speaking, it felt that way. She couldn't sleep; her body felt uneasy, tired yet expectant, hot yet cold, restless yet weak. Curling into a small ball on her mattress, she wished to hide from the world. A feeling of defenselessness washed over her. Her mind and body felt exposed and alone, craving reassurance and longing for her worries to slip away.

'Maybe I should check on him… ' 'Yes, yes, check on him,' a voice inside her head quickly agreed.

Armin had been tasked with delivering some food and fresh water to Levi's chambers, and since she couldn't sleep, she contemplated making a late-night visit to check on him and offer assistance with medicine. The night was bitterly cold, and she felt oddly exposed, much like a doe in the middle of a meadow, her big round eyes scanning for danger in the unprotected surroundings, perfect prey for lurking predators. She added a thick, long cardigan over her nightgown and left her bedroom, her loose hair flowing as her slippers echoed in the scout facilities' corridors.

As she made her way through the facility, a shaky candle's light flickered under her steps. She struggled to keep her cardigan closed around her chest, multitasking as she carried a few loaves of bread, a couple of nuts, and a jar of water. The closer she got to the higher-ups' chambers, the heavier her chest felt, and she started to consider the possibility that she might have caught a cold or something worse. Each step on the stairs to the upper floor felt torturous, and her body weakened.

Finally, she reached the door and softly knocked, trying not to wake the other superiors sleeping on the floor. "Captain? Captain Levi? It's me… I was wondering if you needed medicine, help… anything," her whisper felt absurdly loud in the still of the night. There was no response, so she knocked softly again and attempted to turn the doorknob. It was, of course, closed.

She had a moment of clarity as she thought, "I don't know what I was thinking." If Levi was feeling so unwell that he had been absent from work for almost three days, he was likely asleep, and that was the best medicine. Her legs flexed as she prepared to leave what she had brought with her on the floor when she snapped to attention as the door creaked open in front of her.

The air that slipped through the door hit her like a wrecking ball. It entered her nostrils, invaded her senses, and intoxicated her brain so quickly that she could barely process it. Levi's grey eyes observed her through the door's crack.

"Captain?" She whispered as her body grew warm, her cheeks flushed, her legs trembled, and her hands shook. The air felt heavy and lacking oxygen, and before she knew it, her natural response was to start apologising. "I… I brought you rations," she stammered, as if her brain was trying to come up with excuses.

As that intoxicating scent grew stronger, her body reacted. Her walls contracted, her legs pressed together, and she felt ashamed, especially since Levi was intensely staring at her through the crack of the door.

"Cap-?"

Before she could insist, the door opened slightly more, barely allowing her to slip inside. Once inside, the woody, pine scent with subtle undertones of mint, citrus, and lavender overtook her senses, leaving her devoid of coherent thought. Despite Levi's stature on the shorter side, the breadth of his shoulders and his imposing shadow against the door as he pushed it closed captured her attention. Perhaps, under different circumstances, she might have noticed the sound of the lock as he stood behind her, allowing her to venture inside his territory. But the pheromones worked their magic on her, causing her knees to weaken, her body to liquefy, and her face to flush. She felt a pulse of wetness down her core, dampening her underwear.

After placing the jar of water and rations on the desk, she leaned against it, feeling nearly incapable of standing. She had clearly overestimated her health; she was suffering from something more than just a cold. Her mouth grew dry, and she was about to turn and leave, back to her own bed, when Levi deliberately licked the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She let out a loud gasp, trying to push him away.

Levi had her pinned against his desk. When had he moved so close to her? How was it possible that she hadn’t heard him? Most importantly, this wasn’t the Levi she knew, the one she peacefully drank tea with in the afternoons or the one who asked her if she needed anything from downtown when he was going to pick up rations with his squad.

Levi's pleasurable groans and purrs reverberated against his chest as he shamelessly licked the back of her neck and sniffed the area, softly caressing his canines against her skin.

"Captain, wait!" she tried to struggle away, pushing him off.

"Shh," he hushed, "no need to resist. I'll give you exactly what you came looking for, Omega."

Her body skipped a beat as she heard his hoarse voice. She felt her wetness spreading, an inner voice whispering, ‘Yes! Yes, this is what you want. Be good to him, be calm for him, be receptive, be a good little omega.’

Her legs trembled in desperation to stand straight, but the musky scent in the room awakened something deep inside her, almost animalistic. Levi's hands held her hips, pushing them backward, and his groan joined her pants as she felt the thick, throbbing member under his sweatpants. Her soft gasps weren't just because of the sweet friction she didn't want to enjoy as much as she did; Levi's half-hard member felt impossibly thick and demanding against her.

His fingers crept up her legs, her attempts to grab his wrists and stop him proving futile. "I-I'm not an omega! I'm a beta," she insisted.

Levi chuckled, the vibration reaching her as his fangs lightly grazed her vulnerable skin on her neck, not biting just yet, but teasing her with the idea of it. "Is that so? Well, this part of you says otherwise," his fingers moved up and down her soaking wet underwear.

"No- I… I'm not…"

"I can smell you, how sweet you taste, how wet you are, how desperate you are for it," Levi's voice was surprisingly calm, deep, and smooth, but with an undertone that made him sound as if he was lost, not completely in control of his own mind. "Submit, and I may take you to the bed, where your knees won't bruise."

"I'm not an omega," she repeated, her voice trembling. She could feel the wetness on her thighs seeping through her underwear and onto his fingers. It was humiliating yet exhilarating, confusing yet intoxicating. The scent of him surrounded her, consuming her senses, and despite herself, she couldn't help but arch her back, pressing herself closer to him.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears; it seemed like a drum roll announcing their inevitable surrender. "But I… I can't…" His hands held her hips firmly, preventing any chance of escape while also keeping her close enough for him to sniff and lick her neck whenever he wanted.

"You are mine," he whispered hoarsely, his voice vibrating with raw desire. “That tight little hole of yours is twitching for me, begging for my knot. You’re obviously in need of a proper mate,”

His fingers danced along her hip bones, teasingly close to the place where they met but never touching. He leaned down further, his nose almost brushing against her hair. "I can smell your wetness, your readiness to take my seed.” His hips pressed and jerked against he, breathing heavily against her neck as he rocked his cock against her ass.

“I’ll breed you properly, do not worry,”

"It's because of the rut," she said quietly, trying to rationalise the situation but incapable of controlling the gasps "We both are affected by it."

Levi chuckled darkly, his hands moving up her sides to cup her breasts through her nightgown. "Yes, I’ve triggered your heat," he agreed, his voice husky.

His fingers brushed against her nipples through the thin fabric, sending shivers down her spine. She moaned softly, her body betraying her resistance. Her mind screamed at her to push him away, to run, but her body yearned for more.

"You’re not thinking straight" she cried out, her voice shaking with desire and anger.

"I know exactly what I want," Levi murmured, his breath warm against her skin. His dick swelled in his pants, this time ready for the actual act not some pathetic fantasy in his sheets. He spoke as if he was in trance, drunk on something sweeter than honey, softer than silk. His mouth started to salivate, teeth clenched and his hands lost control of his own strength as the veins of his hands and forearms popped as he tightened his grip.

She felt so small in his arms, so vulnerable yet so desired, and it was a confusing cocktail of emotions that left her feeling disoriented and helpless. But despite everything, there was an underlying thrill coursing through her veins, telling her that this wasn't something she should resist.

Her heart pounded against her chest as if trying to escape its confines. It was almost comical how desperately she wanted him, how eagerly she craved his touch, his scent, his possession. And yet, deep down, there was a part of her screaming at herself to fight against it, to run away, to save herself from becoming someone else's plaything.

The struggle inside her mirrored the one outside; Levi's grip on her hips tightened, pulling her closer while simultaneously pushing her back against the desk. His other hand moved up, tracing along her neckline until he reached the clasp of her nightgown. With a swift movement, he undid it, revealing more of her skin to his hungry eyes.

She gasped as the cold air hit her bare shoulders, making her nipples erect and visible beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. Levi's gaze lingered on them for a moment before moving further down, taking in the sight of her wet underwear.

"You're so fucking wet," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. "I could take you right here, right now, against this damn table."

His fingers slid into the waistband of her underwear, tugging it down slightly. The sensation was exquisite yet terrifying, like walking a tightrope without any safety net below. Her body trembled with anticipation and fear, each breath she took only heightening her senses further.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how arousing it was, him manhandling her to his own wishes. Hands squeezing and kneading the skin of her body to his own pleasure, his legs parting between hers to force the space and secure her own hips to the sturdy wedge of Levi’s hips.

"Please…" she whimpered, unsure whether she was begging for mercy or for more. “Please, not here,”

Levi's pupils dilated. It had been so long, so stupidly long. Perhaps the last time he recalled being inside something warm and releasing one load after the other, squeezed almost to death by soft, tight, warm walls, was during his thug days back in the underground. The anticipation festered in his mind, his chest rapidly rising and falling at the mere thought of it. Maybe that's why Omegas weren't allowed in the military, those pretty little things, the perfect match for his knot to force his seed repeatedly until it took. And God, it would work perfectly—the perkiness of her breasts, the pertness of her ass, the roundness of her hips, the glistening of her inner thighs as she moistened herself perfectly for him to slide right in. Every inch of her body was made for him to claim and breed.

His large, pale hand groped her ass, squeezing his fingertips against her skin until it left marks, the bruise of his strength. She felt like a doll in his hands, moldable and ready for his every whim. Yet, there was something strangely comforting about it too. To be utterly at his mercy, to surrender control and let him take charge—it was terrifying and exhilarating, all rolled into one. Her head turned to the side, her glittering eyes looking back at him expectantly.

Levi's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze fiery and possessive. Her eyes met his, and for the first time since this whole ordeal began, she saw something different in them. There was no humour, no coldness, no distance. Only raw desire, hunger, and possessiveness reflected back at her. "You want this, don't you? You fucking crave it," he chuckled darkly, his voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing.

"I'm not…" she tried to protest again, but her words caught in her throat, trapped between fear and lust. She wanted him, needed him, yet part of her fought desperately against this primal urge.

Levi chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing along her inner thighs, barely touching but enough to send shivers down her spine. "You are," he whispered hoarsely, his breath warm against her skin. "And I plan to take advantage of it."

She whimpered again, a sound that was half protest, half pleasure.

Desperate to finally touch that sweet pool of warm slick between her legs, calloused fingers slipped upwards, running up and down her folds. Anything around her hole was dripping wet, almost to the middle of her legs. It felt absurd how her body reacted. Two unceremoniously fingers slipped in, her back arched, her lips parted, and she let out lewd moans that must have caught the attention of one or two higher-ups.

The sounds that reached his ears were obscene. It was ridiculous how she felt his fingers sliding right in and out, merciless but smooth. Her senses caught every humiliating detail of how wet she was for him. Levi didn't bother with detailed foreplay; there was no need. Her instincts had done all the work for him. Stupidly slippery, he parted his fingers, filling the pull of her walls that easily succumbed to the pressure, allowing more space for him, her cervix welcoming his load.

He withdrew his doused fingers, raised them up for him to take a good sniff before sucking them with delight. Almost throatily purring at the flavour, he said, "You're in the perfect cycle. I'm going to mount you and breed you as you deserve."

She emitted soft mews, her hips pushing backward, her ass slightly shaking to the sides, desperately trying to regain the alpha's attention. His head throbbed with determination as much as his manhood did inside his pants.

"Nngh.." she moaned, rocking against his desk, mourning the loss of his touch “Levi.. please,”

He stepped back slightly, giving her an illusion of freedom that was quickly shattered when he grabbed her hips again and lifted her off the ground. He wasted no time, she gasped as his fingers dug into her flesh, but it wasn't painful. Carrying her to his attached room as his hands sneaked under her ribs and pushed the nightgown over her head. Leaving her completely exposed. Levi's gaze roamed over her naked body, taking in every curve, every dip, every inch of her exposed skin. His canines gleamed dangerously as he licked his lips, almost like a predator sizing up its prey. Placing her on his mattress, the sheets were a mess and he had no mind in the past few days to even bother. Only serving further to his mind state.

Quickly he took off the sweatpants that hung lazily over his hips, tossing them aside not minding where they landed before he sinked a knee on the mattress crawling over her frame. How welcoming her body was, legs parting to show her leaking hole as a trophy for him to claim. Widening his knees to brace himself for what was about to come. Her watery eyes looked at the throbbing cock between his legs, it wasn’t just the length or the grid of it. It was the curve, the glycerin of the tip with pre-cum and the base that was already inflating in anticipation, softly twitching under the night light in arousement. The idea of being bred by an alpha as strong as Levi made her rock her hips against absolutely nothing, feeling her wetness sneak between her ass cheeks into the bed.

“Alpha… please ah- Come on,” She mewled, obviously already too far gone into it.

Her eyelashes fluttered while she laid trembling in the sheets, soft mewls convinced with keens as Levi’s lip latched on one of her buds, fingers massaging the softness of her breasts. Levi moved forward, hovering over the smaller omega. Yanking one leg over his shoulders only for his fingers to find the place he was going to claim once more, harshly biting the tender meat of her inner legs.

Levi's finger, slick with her arousal, slid into her tight heat with ease. He allowed a soft grunt of satisfaction to escape his lips, his eyes fixed on her flushed face as he carefully gauged the reactions. He curled his finger inside her, searching for the spot that would bring the sweet creature the most pleasure. His touch was controlled and skilled, determined to bring her to the peak of ecstasy.

"You like that, don’t you? Fuck, you’re sucking me in. Desperate little bitch for my seed. Trust in me, my omega."

His thumb found her clit, gently rubbing circles against it as his finger continued to thrust in and out of her wetness. The stimulation from his finger and thumb working in tandem left her teetering on the edge of pleasure, her moans growing louder with each passing moment.

"Alpha," Y/N moaned, feeling herself close, seeing him with residues of her wetness in his mouth "It feels good… I feel full,"

Levi's eyes darkened with desire as he heard her moans of pleasure and felt her walls tighten around his finger. He had to bite down a smirk as the mere thought of someone hearing him claiming what was rightfully his felt like a wet dream come true. Her words of satisfaction only fueled his own pride.

"You're doing so well, my omega," he murmured, his voice filled with husky approval. "Just let go and surrender,”

With his skilled touch, he increased the pace of his finger, thrusting deeper and faster inside her, while his thumb continued to rub herclit with firm and precise movements. Levi's own desire burned within him, his cock twitching against his lower abdomen, leaking shamelessly.

His movements became more urgent, his finger thrusting faster within her as his thumb pressed harder against her perfect spot. The dual sensations sent powerful waves of pleasure coursing through her body, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of climax. With one final, powerful thrust, Levi's fingers found that sweet spot within her, his thumb exerting a steady pressure on her bud. The combination of sensations was overwhelming, all consuming. Crying out his name, sweet body convulsed with pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing over the poor creature.

Red swollen lips swollen and flushed face, she observed him withdraw his fingers and lick them cleans with a satisfaction smirk.

"Full?" He questioned, almost mocking "Oh, already? but I'll stuff you even more"

His words drew her eyes to his cock, that at this rate looked painfully ready. "Indeed," he replied, his voice laced with a mixture of lust and dominance. "I will show you what it truly means to be filled, to be completely consumed by an alpha."

A soft breath of rationality crossed her mind, forcing her to contour under his frame and seek liberation, fighting back and struggling. Levi's eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed the lack of cooperation. His dominant demeanour increased as the prospect of losing his potential mate felt outrageous.

"Your body is capable of accommodating me. Your body was made to be claimed by an alpha," he insisted, letting out an irritated snarl.

Drawing back into his knees, harsh hands gripping her hips and flipping her over. “Present,” he snarted commanding. Soft mewls left her lips as she sinked slightly into the mattress but Levi had run out of patience. Strong hands pushing between her shoulder blades to force the correct arch of her back, muffled cries left her lips as her face was buried into the mattress. No thought crossed her mind, she was devoid of any real rational capability as she felt her own wetness oozing out of her raised ass. Fingers sinking into her hips bones to secure the position and thick muscular thighs parting between her to find the perfect levalege for what was about to come.

The tip of his cock ran up and down her folds gathering the wetness and his hands spread it over his length, mixing it with his own leaking pre-cum. Thick head of his cock began to sink into her tight and wet heat. The sensation of her walls wrapping around him, the way her body tried to miserably accommodate him so willingly, sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. His breath held as it was a tight fit. Her nails sinked into the sheet as she squirm and wiggle her hips. Knees sliding over the bed, finding any way to create more space for him as he sank deeper.

He could feel her body twist and adjust to his size, her walls clenching around him in response. The feeling of being completely buried within her warmth made his breath hitch in his chest.

“Ah-Nnhg! Wait,” she cried out as the pleasure and pain mixed extremely well inside her fogged brain.

"Relax," he growled, rambling his hips forward. Both of them let out a loud moan as he finally sinked all the way in. With slow, deliberate movements, he began to move within her, withdrawing his length and then pushing back in. And not fully because he wanted, if it had been left to him, he would have been pounding the body below him in animalistic rhythm to the point her knees raised from the bed but she was definitely not accustomed to being mated by an alpha. His thick length spread her deeper and faster each time, as her own body eased out the process as she felt herself become ever wetter.

At this rate, if the rest hadn’t woken up, then they must be deaf. The squeaks of the bed, the slamming of the frame against the walls. The high detailed wet noises of skin against skin, his thick fat cock entering in her wet heap over and over again. Only adding her loud moans of pleasure that turned into winces each time he bottomed up. The pull of his cock sliding in each time deeper was maddening, to the point that her breath came out in chopped pants, finding it difficult to breathe more each time despite trying.

The grip of his hands on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into the skin possessively. His thrusts became more forceful and deliberate, his hips meeting her with every movement, driving himself deeper into her core. “Ah- Yes!” moans grew louder, echoing in the room, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Levi's pace intensified, the sound of his hips slapping against her filling the room, the bed rocking with each powerful thrust. Time seemed to stand still, lost in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through both of their bodies.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice possessive and dominant. Both intoxicated, each on their own duty. His to fuck, bit, lick, suck anything that would him secure to be buried up as deep as possible, make sure that the head of his cock was assaulting the sweet welcoming open of her womb. And hers to slay sprawled on the bed for Levi to have his way with her, take anything she was giving and allow him to do his work.

"Yes! yes, alpha! I'm yours," she moaned back "claim me,"

Her body seemed to have a mind of its own as the eagerness of his movements told the inner instincts about what was about to come. Her inner omega knew exactly what was about to happen, preparing for something that not even herself was entirely sure about.

“Fuck! Nhg… Yes, shit!” his voice turned hoarse as he snarled in pleasure. Nothing he had been trying to provide for himself the last couple of days could ever compare to his. Anything else paled in comparison to the melting heat of her cunt, to the slippery heaven her hole was. He could feel the walls contract around him, milking him for everything he was worth. He could almost sob on how good it felt, especially after all the build abstinence. Depriving himself of this was simple torture, he wasn’t even done yet and he could already moan at the idea of repeating it all over again.

Levi's control over her was absolute as he held her down, his dominance and power asserting itself with each forceful thrust. The intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain coursed through her veins, igniting a primal hunger within her. The sound of Y/N’s moans and pleas filled the air, driving him further into a state of possessive desire. His movements became more frenzied, his hips snapping against hers with a relentless rhythm. The force of his thrusts owned her wince, the delicate edge between pleasure and pain blurring and simply adding to the intensity of the experience.

Levi moved to hover over her, his chest pressed against her back, his hands wrapping down her arms to push her back as he thrusted in.

“Ah! Ah!” Flustering lids as her eyes rolled backwards, lips parted letting out encouraging words that would be extremely embarrassing to recall later on.

“I’m gonna breed you- Fuck- I’ll stuff you full that the only reason you won’t be leaking my cum its because I’ll knot you so fucking well” Levi growled, hips stuttering. She felt the alpha shudder above her, thrusts becoming frantic.

“Yes! Yes, please,” she moaned eagerly, unaware, unconscious. In the delicious state she was in, hardly could notice any change in the process. Only how the head of his cock hit her cervix repeatedly, preparing it to accept his load. Further spreading her legs as the knees and sobs become incoherent. The prospect of being mated and claimed but such a good alpha was enough reassurance for her drunk brain.

Mouth hanging open but produced no sound as another climax was ripped through her, her legs trembling and shaking in desperation. Feeling her own walls clamping down on Levi’s length, spamming around it. Another pulse of slick forced out of her, oozing it down and obscenely wetting even his own legs as his cock kept stretching her out. Her inner instincts were so pleased, so extremely delighted of being held down and mated properly.

Levi’s desperate groans and snarts grew harsh and breathy as his own body prepared for the peak of the act. He had no idea how long he had been there, snapping his hips, holding her down, assaulting that beautiful cunt. However, Levi had concluded a simple thought. His entire life and sense of living had been reduced to this moment. One hand reached backwards to the bottom of her belly to press and feel, feeling his own cock was getting larger.

“Mhhh! Nhg” her winces as it was already too much to handle. “No- no!” she resisted, it was too much, no amount of slick and hazed pheromones could clouded her mind to the feeling of him stretching her rim impossibly wide.

His lower abs contracted, his legs twitched with the prospect, his possessive growls reverberated on his chest as he warned her of ruining this precise moment for him. His movements became even more primal, his grip on her body tightening as he pounded into her with a commanding force. The sound of her wetness and the slap of skin against skin filled the room, echoing the intensity.

Moving in earnest with a single purpose, knotting. “W-wait!” She cried, each push had that large cockhead touching my cervix, preparing it to accept his load.

Levi’s sharp snarl pierced through her body as he feared his mate escaping on the peak of the act or perhaps moving and running his calculative pounding. Pale lips parted, heavy breath impacting on the back of her head, saliva dripping from the corners of his lips. His teeth sinked mercilessly on the back of her neck, right on her scent gland and forcing submission into her frame. Latching his jaw around the back of the omega’s neck, drawing blood out of it as it mixed with his own saliva as he was drooling of the pleasure that cursed through him.

She could no longer move, her body became a pliant frame for him to deliver powerful thrust, his knots brushed against her entrance, teasing and preparing to further claim her and fill her with his seed. The grip on her frame was almost painful as he kept thrusting forward, trying to force his knot, the swollen part of the bottom of his lengths, to finally break in.

Her mouth hung open but produced no sound as she felt him finally being able to pop inside his knot with a last trust. Now unable to pull out anymore, his cock securely pressed as deep as it could go, head right on the opening of her womb, his knot secured in her entrance making sure that all his seed remained inside. No longer pushing out, only rocking against her frame. The pleasure of being stroked so deep within at such a brutal pace had her insides fluttering. Walls contracted around Levi's cock as he circled his hips jerking. Y/N squirmed as she felt the hot liquid gushing into her. Levi's shallow pumps released more each time. Rodding out his climax, growling softly as he humped desperately the soft body beneath him. Each shallow pump released more of his hot seed deep within her. With each pulsation, she felt the overwhelming fullness.

“Ah-” She mewled out as he released her neck to press his forehead against her nape, purring content to the point she could almost feel the satisfaction smile on the corner of his lips. Quick were to arrive the soft kisses and gentle laps on the claiming mark to numb the zone.

Levi’s endearing vibrations echoed on her exhausted frame as his chest was still pressed against her back. His hands now running up and down her sides as he kissed his shoulder blades delighted of a successful mating. It was a mere wash of calmness until the heat demanded them to retake the actions repeatedly.

Levi manoeuvred them to be laying on their side, spooning her from behind as they couldn't unlock yet. The cramped sheets at the bottom of the bed frame as the heat of their connected body was enough despite the winter temperatures. He dedicated to deliver affectionate gesture, a calming reassurance after the intensity of their union. He held her close, his strong arm draped around her waist as if somehow she could still perhaps run away. The tips of his hair tickled her face as Levi provided one of his arms as a pillow for both to rest their heads. It was stupid, to the point he probably would be ashamed later on how happy his mind was about it.

Pillows were spread around the floor, half-eaten loaves of bread on the night table. Shivers ran down his body as the air was humid and cold, dense and thick with confinement. The almost transparent sheets weren’t enough; his hand searched in vain and blindness for his blankets. He sat up abruptly, suddenly ashamed of his own nudity as his body felt sticky. His hips hurt, his legs contracted as if he had run a marathon, his hair clung to his forehead because of the lack of wash, his body froze as the sweat had turned cold.

Grey eyes roamed around his room that suddenly felt foreign to him. It was a mess, and he didn’t just say that because he was a clean freak. It WAS a mess. The sheets hung wrinkled on the edge of the bed, the bed frame had moved around, there were dirty dishes and jars of water half-drunk. His stomach groaned, complaining as the necessity to ingest food over any other priorities started to retake his system. The thick saliva in his mouth was gulped down slowly as his eyes admired the naked body sleeping next to him on the bed, tired and unaware. Levi couldn’t unglue his eyes from her naked back. His fingers ghosted over the purplish inflated claiming mark on the girl’s neck, not daring to touch it.

“No…” he whispered as realisation began to sink into his brain, which was finally, after almost over a week, regaining rationality. He slightly shook his head as he felt blame crawling up to him as if it was all a big mistake. Trying to search for a glimmer of hope, he carefully hovered over her peacefully resting body to softly sniff the mark he had left behind.

Shutting his eyes closed with pain and clenching his teeth, he breathed out, “Fuck!” Everything made sense now. She had mentioned that she was from a small country village and that during her nurse training, she lived in an omegas and betas only pension. Nature was wise—why waste energy and precious heat cycles when there was nobody around to claim her? It was better to save it for a worthy occasion. The way bringing her pastries from downtown brightened up her features, his necessity to provide tea for her, the chemical reaction of his face being too close to her neck that occasion. He had triggered her presentation.

‘A late bloomer,’ he thought. Unpresented, assumed to be a beta. His instincts knew better than himself.

“What the fuck have I done?” He cursed under his breath.

“Levi?”

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at flying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[msgexymunson]

Prettiest Bitch

Description: you and Eddie have a special way of showing each other you care.

A/N: this is a real life fucking story of me and my partner lmao. Please like and reblog if you enjoy it sweetheart. 

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, mean Eddie and mean reader but it's just fun and games, reader is AFAB, female oral receiving.

Masterlist

900 words

Laying on Eddie's sofa, you bask in the warm glow of being near him. Your legs were draped over his as you rifled through a book that you were barely paying attention to. Eddie's hand is up your loose pyjama pants, tracing soft circles on the  bare skin of your calf. 

"Eddie?" 

"Yeah sweets?" 

"You've always got to be touching me, don't you." 

"Suppose so."

You smirk, pulling his hand out of your pants. He whines like a child that just got his favourite toy confiscated. 

"Why?" 

"Dunno, I just want your skin."

Laughing loudly, you scoot closer on your knees, just shy of climbing onto his lap. 

"You want my skin? That sounds so fuckin' weird." 

Eddie drops his voice into an odd gravelly gasp, the one he reserves for goblin NPCs when he's DM. 

"Eddie wants it! Give Eddie your skin!" 

Before you can react he's pulling you onto his lap, hands wandering up your top and stroking hard at the exposed flesh. 

"You dumbass that tickles! Stop!" 

"Never!" He doubles down his efforts, lifting your t-shirt and blowing a wet raspberry on your stomach. You try to lean away but he has you trapped. 

Finally wiggling from his grasp in a fit of breathless giggles, your rump bumps heavily on the floor. 

"You're an idiot, Munson." 

"Yeah? Well you like me, so who's the idiot now?" 

"Still you!" You flip him the bird and he pokes his tongue out at you at the same time. 

Now eye level with the coffee table, a leaflet catches your eye. 

"What's this? Hawkins County fair?" 

Leafing through it, you hear Eddie's chuckle. 

"Yeah, just a bunch of farmers showing off the size of their pumpkins and shit, it's so stupid."

"But look!" You wave the ad in his face as he rolls his eyes. 

"Dog show Eddie! Dogs! Look, they've got categories and everything." 

He goes to steal it out of your hands but you hold firmly on, reeling off some of the different categories. 

"Senior dogs… there's one for puppies that's cute… oh haha look, prettiest bitch! I should enter." You nod at him and his gaze softens, sinking down to join you on the floor.

"Oh sweetheart" his thumb brushes your cheek as you melt under his gaze. 

"You're not pretty." 

Gasping, your eyes snap back open to see Eddie rolling on the floor gasping with fits of laughter. 

"Edward James Munson! Gonna make you regret that!" 

You straddle him, fingers digging bruises into his sides, trying desperately to find ticklish spots. 

"It was a joke! Come on sweets, you know I'm not ticklish there." 

Grinning devilishly, you straddle him backwards, clinging onto his legs like a koala.

"Nope, but you are here!" 

Your fingers tickle at his socked feet as he writhes beneath you. 

"Fuck, no fair! Stop!" 

"Never!" Your relentless onslaught continues.

"I will kick you in the head!" 

"Say I'm pretty!" 

"Fine! You're pretty, stop, stop!" 

You finally relinquish your hold and clamber off him still giggling triumphantly. 

"Am I forgiven?" 

"Nope. That was really mean Edward." You huff dramatically, folding your arms over your chest. 

"Kiss it better?" 

You both use that phrase. It started off with kissing your knee when you fell, then you used it to comfort him once when some jocks had been particularly mean to him, then it just melded into your day to day life. 

"OK." 

His smile is wicked as he pushes you to your back, fingers hooking into your pyjama pants. 

"The fuck are you doing?" Gazing down at him, he smiles sinfully as he pulls your pants down in one smooth motion. 

"Didn't say where, sweets." 

His tongue runs the full length of your pussy and runs around your clit in a smooth circle. 

"Fuck, Eddie!" Hands make their way into his unruly curls as he continues his apology, suckling at your clit. 

Thick fingers probe your entrance, gliding in to curl in that spot just like you like it. 

"Sweetheart, you're the prettiest girl in this trailer." 

Not giving in that easily, you pull his hair. 

"I'm the only girl in this trailer!" 

He laughs and sucks your clit again hard, making your back arch off the floor. 

"OK," he practically breathes into your cunt, "the prettiest girl in Hawkins?" 

"Better." 

"Fine, the prettiest girl in the fucking world." 

"OK, oh shit, oh you're forgiven!" Moans replace words as he fucks you hard with his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to release.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna come, Eddie!" 

He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit hard as you ride his face into a searing wash of ecstasy. 

Releasing in a broken scream, you melt into a puddle. Moments later, a very smug Eddie hovers over you. 

"You are the prettiest bitch" He says, pressing a soft kiss to your nose. 

Too fucked out to argue, you pull him close and hold him. You'll get him back later. 

@munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiesprincess86

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: After being yelled at one too many times by their strict Ubers teammate, Oliver Aiku enlists Ikki Niko in helping him get Shoei Barou a girlfriend, hoping beyond hope that that’s enough to get the guy to chill out a bit.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Barou x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.8k

Content Warnings: crack fic, barou is also my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader is kind of an npc in this icl 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, everyone is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), everyone gets slandered (mostly by aiku), god bless niko for being chronically online

A/N: there were a decent amt of people who wanted barou’s version plus i felt like writing it so he’s up next!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long just like the sae version and somehow it’s even sillier so…but yeah anyways this is the second entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Barou is yelling at them again. Aiku’s not sure what the big deal is this time — so what if Lorenzo spilled spaghetti sauce on the floor? He’s Italian, that’s part of his culture — but if he dares to speak up, Barou will single him out specifically, and then he’ll be treated like a little kid in timeout, which doesn’t sound like an ideal way to spend a Friday night.

It’s the four of them in the doghouse as usual — himself, Niko, Aryu, and Sendou, that is. The most ridiculous thing is that Lorenzo isn’t even there, though he’s the true target of Barou’s rage; unfortunately for his teammates, though, Lorenzo’s off getting his teeth polished or counting his money while cackling or whatever else it is that he does in his free time.

Honestly, none of them are really taking the theatrics seriously. Aryu’s fiddling with the ends of his hair, Niko’s standing there, staring at Barou with large, watery eyes, and Sendou’s glaring back at Barou with his arms folded over his chest. Aiku sighs, because that means an argument between the two is most likely impending, but unfortunately for him, he sighs a bit too loudly, and Barou whips around, jabbing a finger at him.

“What’s so exasperating, huh?” Barou says. “I bet you won’t be sighing when we have an insect infestation because none of you can be bothered to clean up that damn tomato shit that Lorenzo’s obsessed with!”

“It’s marinara,” Niko pipes up meekly. They all look at him with varying degrees of incredulity; he shrugs, adjusting the headphones around his neck self-consciously. “Lorenzo’s trying to teach me how to make it. Supposedly a typical spaghetti sauce has meat and vegetables added, but a good marinara is the base, so — um, anyways.”

Barou’s upper lip is curled into a sneer, and Aiku’s just about to thank Niko for taking the fall and turning Barou’s rage to him when he remembers that that’s markedly not how Barou operates. He’s too meticulous to forget the former recipient of his ire, not so quickly, and indeed, Barou is pointing at them both when he speaks next.

“That stain better be gone the next time I come in this room,” he says. He doesn’t say what will happen if it’s not, but given his authoritative voice and enormous physique, he usually doesn’t have to resort to making threats in order to be obeyed.

“Thank goodness,” Aryu says once Barou has left to complete his evening meditations. “Seems like Barou appreciated our elegant silence, Sendou. We’ve escaped reproach this time.”

“Yup,” Sendou says. Whistling nonchalantly, he sidles out of the room, and with a fluttering wave, Aryu follows suit. Aiku can’t even blame them, considering it’s what he would’ve done if he were in their place.

Glancing at Niko, who is now his greatest friend due to convenience alone, Aiku shakes his head, wondering what choice he made in life that led to his weekend plans amounting to cleaning sauce stains from a carpet with a little boy instead of partying or something.

“You got the bleach?” he asks. Niko nods miserably.

“Yeah, I got it. You’re good with scrubbing?” he says. Aiku’s shoulders cramp preemptively at the mere thought, but he doesn’t protest aloud.

“No other choice, right?” he says. “Off to work we go, then.” 

Your best friend has been begging you for days to try this new restaurant with her, and it’s only now that it’s Friday that you can’t come up with any more excuses to avoid it. The truth is that you don’t really have a reason to refuse her as many times as you have, but the thought of summoning up the wherewithal to get ready and go out for dinner instead of throwing on your pajamas and eating something on the couch with a movie in the background is excruciating. Besides, you know her tastes. She always takes you to insanely fancy locations where anything less than your best will be embarrassing, and the only saving grace is that your outings always end up being insanely cheap, as she refuses to spend more than the bare minimum no matter what.

“You’re serious?” she affirms, standing in front of your closet and sifting through your clothes. You’re sitting on your bed, legs crossed and your laptop on your lap as you try to finish up the essay you have due Monday before getting ready. “You’ll really go with me?”

“I just told you I would, didn’t I?” you say. “I wouldn’t let you go through my closet if I wasn’t being serious. Actually, I wouldn’t have let you into my house at all.”

“Your parents would’ve opened the door for me,” she says dismissively. “They love me.”

It’s true, they do love her as much if not more than they love you, so you have no rebuttal. She grins at you, tossing a shirt in your general direction. It hits the back of your laptop, landing in a heap on the floor, and you’re too busy to pick it up, so you just leave it there, too lost in thought to care. Just the conclusion, if I can finish that then I can do something fun without anything on my mind—

“Hurry up and get ready! We want to get a table, don’t we?” she says. It’s a pair of pants she flings your way this time, and her aim is far more superior, for they smack into your face, temporarily blinding you.

“If you don’t let me finish this essay, I won’t go with you,” you say, and she knows you mean it literally, so she immediately pretends to zip her lips, saluting at you.

“Finish away!” 

“Barou’s totally got a stick up his ass, don’t you think?” Aiku says after thirty minutes have passed and the stain is no smaller than before. 

“I don’t think I’d phrase it like that,” Niko says, pouring another cup of bleach on the carpet. Neither of them really know much about cleaning, so this is the best they’ve got, even though Aiku’s pretty sure Barou would pass out if he saw their method. “But yeah, he can be kind of uptight at times.”

“He’s pretty nice otherwise, though,” Aiku says thoughtfully. “It’s kind of a shame. I bet if he loosened up a bit, he’d be a downright enjoyable teammate. Besides the cleaning and all, he’s a cool guy.”

“I do like training with him,” Niko says. “When he’s not yelling at us, it’s fun. Following his regimen has made me a lot stronger.”

“Agreed,” Aiku says. That’s the one thing he’ll give Barou — the guy is a master with the training equipment. He’s introduced Aiku to machines he didn’t even know existed. “You know what he needs?”

“What?” Niko says. He’s scrubbing at the floor while Aiku’s sipping on a soda; theoretically, they’re supposed to be switching off, but Niko hasn’t complained yet, so Aiku’s not about to remind him that it’s well beyond time for his turn.

“Some pu—” Aiku cuts himself off when he remembers that he is talking to a child. Niko’s like twelve or something, so maybe phrasing it in that way isn’t the most appropriate thing to do. “—I mean, a beautiful and loving girlfriend.”

Niko tilts his chin up at him, which means he’s probably looking at him; it’s hard to tell with his overgrown bangs falling in his face. Aiku makes a mental note to suggest cutting Niko’s hair during the next team bonding night that Snuffy forces them into.

“I guess having someone like that would make anyone happier, even Barou,” he says.

“That’s what I’m getting at! I bet he’s just constantly stressed out, so he takes it out on us instead of finding a healthy outlet. Maybe dating someone will fix that and give him something to do besides soccer,” Aiku says.

“Is that your secret to always being so calm?” Niko says. Aiku nods.

“The more girls you have, the less you can worry about things like training. You’re too focused on making sure they’re all happy,” Aiku says.

“Woah,” Niko says. “That’s a really great way of looking at things.”

“Right?” Aiku says. “With Barou, though, we might be lucky if we can find even one girl willing to put up with him. He’s a bit of a work in progress, you know?”

“Totally,” Niko says. “What if he yells at her the way he yells at us?”

Aiku has a vision of some poor, innocent girl on the verge of tears as Barou rants about how she didn’t fold her laundry the right way or something. For some reason, she looks kind of like Niko — oh, that’s probably because Barou just yelled at Niko for that exact reason — but the image is enough for him to balk.

“She can come to us for comfort,” Aiku says decisively before once again remembering that Niko probably only popped out of the womb a scant few months prior. He needs to be more careful — this isn’t Sendou, who would’ve made at least ten innuendos even worse than his own by this point. “I mean, me.”

“That’s a good plan,” Niko says. “You’re really good with the whole advising and comforting thing. I bet you’d make her feel better for sure.”

Yeah, I’d make her feel better alright. This time Aiku manages to keep it to himself, only coughing slightly and nodding towards the bottle of bleach as an explanation.

“The only question is where in Blue Lock are we going to find a girl, let alone one willing to date Barou?” Aiku says.

“Well, Bastard München is playing PXG this weekend, and Manshine City is playing Barcha, so we’re technically off,” Niko says. “I think if we ask Snuffy, we can probably have a day out.”

“What if Ego gets mad?” Aiku says, although the idea is sound enough that he’s just jealous he didn’t come up with it himself. Niko hums, giving careful consideration to the notion.

“We can just blame it on Snuffy. What’s Ego going to do, fire him?” he says. 

A grin breaks out on Aiku’s face.

“Niko, kiddo—”

“I’m fifteen.”

“—you’re totally a genius. Let’s go!”

“What about the stain?” Niko says. Aiku glances at the still marinara-colored splotch on the carpet, and then he waves it off dismissively.

“If we can find Snuffy before Barou gets back, then it’s no longer our problem,” he says.

Niko looks unconvinced, but he’s sensible as well as genius-material, so he only follows after Aiku — albeit not without a final worried glance at the section of carpet which still smells suspiciously of tomatoes. 

“So what cuisine does this place have, anyways?” you say. You’ve finally finished and submitted your essay, and now you’re taking a shower. Your best friend has closed the lid of the toilet and is sitting on it while playing on her phone, apparently because she wants to be able to talk to you even while you’re showering, and since you have a curtain you don’t mind.

“No idea,” she says.

“No idea?” you say, squeezing shampoo into your palm. “Why do you want to go, then?”

“My dad’s Facebook friends have been raving about it,” she says. “His ex-boss said that it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city!”

“We’re going to dinner based on recommendations from your dad’s Facebook friends,” you repeat dryly. “Wow.”

“Look, he may have chronically underpaid my dad, but the ex-boss has great taste in food!” your best friend defends. “Apparently they fill up super fast, though, so we have to get there right when they open for dinner, or else we’re out of luck.”

“Is this you subtly trying to pressure me to shower faster?” you say.

“It’s not subtle,” she says. You scoff.

“I hope you know I’ll take even longer now,” you say.

“You better not!” 

Snuffy is obviously confused when the two of them approach him — Aiku’s not sure if it’s the question that has their coach confounded, though, or if it’s the admittedly odd combination that’s approached him.

“You guys want a night out of the facility?” Snuffy checks.

“Yes,” Aiku says.

“And…you want Barou to come?” Snuffy says. That could be another reason for the incredulity — ‘Barou’ and ‘fun’ are two words rarely if ever seen in the same sentence, unless your name is Yoichi Isagi, in which case just being on the same field as Barou is your idea of ‘fun.’ For normal people — i.e. those with names such as Oliver Aiku and Ikki Niko — those concepts don’t generally align, however, so Aiku can’t blame Snuffy for the weird face he’s making.

“Yes,” Niko says.

Snuffy stares at them for a moment longer, and then, to make things even stranger, he chuckles in a way that’s almost fond.

“It’ll be good for him to get out of here for a bit,” he says. “You two are great teammates for thinking of him; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it one day, if not necessarily tonight. Go on, then, and have fun if you’d like.”

Aiku waits for the other shoe to drop, but Snuffy just returns to making a cup of coffee. It’s a little odd, given the later hour, but still, Aiku’s not one to count his blessings, so he motions for Niko to follow him, and with Snuffy’s official permission, the two of them march towards where Barou is probably doing his daily “fuck Yoichi Isagi” affirmations. They have that kind of weird relationship, after all. It’s unnecessarily complicated, but Aiku has observed during his time in Blue Lock that almost every single relationship between the members of the program follows such a mold. He’s given up on trying to figure any of it out, knowing it’s well beyond him.

“Are you ready?” Aiku says when they reached the closed door to the training room. Niko rolls his shoulders.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Niko says. Aiku decides he likes him, and that he should try to spend more time with the pipsqueak. Maybe he can be a mentor figure or a true role model for the younger player. He’d definitely do better at the job than, say, Aryu. Or Lorenzo, which is a more relevant concern, since apparently the two are cooking buddies, as per Niko’s marinara interlude during Barou’s earlier tantrum.

With a grim nod at Niko, Aiku swings open the door. Schooling his expression into a cheery grin, he calls out in a sing-song that really doesn’t spell anything but trouble:

“Oh, Barou!” 

You’ve made your best friend drive, since she’s the one who’s insisted on taking you out, which leaves you to play music and accomplish other such passenger-esque duties. You take full advantage of your freedom to be distracted, shuffling through playlists whenever you’re bored and scrolling through your best friend’s crush-of-the-week’s social media.

“He’s kind of ugly,” you say. She clicks her tongue.

“In a cute way, though, right?” she says. When you’re silent, she gasps. “Right?”

“Uh…” you trail off, zooming in on one of the photos. Something about him is reminiscent of a gerbil, and you can tell he’s short even before you swipe and see him in a photo with one of his friends, barely coming up to his shoulder. “There’s someone out there for everyone, I suppose.”

“That means you think he’s repulsive!” she accuses you.

“Repulsive’s a strong word,” you say. 

“Hideous?” she says.

“I can get behind that,” you say. “He reminds me of Tinkerbell.”

“Like the fairy, or our third grade teacher’s gerbil?” she says.

“The latter,” you say. “I’m glad you remembered her. That wouldn’t have been as funny if you didn’t.”

“I didn’t find it funny regardless,” she says, pulling into the parking lot and slowing the car to a crawl as she hunts for a space to pull in.

“Hm,” you say. “I did.”

“You know what? You’re not allowed to slander him until you find someone better for yourself. Girls in glass houses should not be throwing stones, and considering some of your exes, you’re in no position to talk,” she says.

“Low blow,” you say.

“No response? That’s what I thought,” she says. You scowl.

“Just park the car, you dumbass. 

“What the hell is going on?” Barou says, for probably the third or fourth time. Unfortunately, their attempt at kidnapping him didn’t go as planned, for neither Aiku nor Niko could lift Barou for any length of time, so now they were stuck with a supremely irritated striker following after them as they marched towards where the Blue Lock official parking was. 

Snuffy had given them the keys to his car, so at least they had a ride — if he weren’t such a good coach, Aiku would seriously question the man’s judgment. Niko ushers Barou into the backseat, claiming he already “called shotgun,” and then he dives into the passenger seat beside Aiku, fastening his seatbelt with a serious expression on his delicate face.

“We wanted to have a fun night out!” Aiku says, turning the child lock on so Barou can’t escape before reversing out of the garage.

“Huh?” Barou says. “There’s so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin. Also, why are we in Snuffy’s car?”

“He gave us the keys,” Niko says, like it’s obvious. In all fairness, it kind of is.

“He gave you two the keys,” Barou says. Aiku’s a responsible driver, so he doesn’t glance back at Barou, but he’s pretty sure that if he did, he’d be met with the kind of fearsome glare that made medieval-era peasants believe in the existence of creatures like trolls and dragons.

“Yes, he did,” Aiku says. “Told us to enjoy ourselves while we were at it.”

Barou sighs. “Say I believe that—”

“We’re telling the truth!” Aiku says.

“—uh-huh, sure. Anyways, where are we even going?” he says.

“Oh, I can answer that!” Niko says. “It’s this restaurant that my dad’s obsessed with. He’s been posting all over his Facebook about it. According to him, it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city.”

“At least you two are being frugal,” Barou says with a small ‘hmph.’ “How far is it?”

“Not too far,” Niko says. 

“Just sit back and relax, man! It’s a couple of friends going out for a meal. Totally normal!” Aiku says.

“Friends don’t kidnap one another to hang out,” Barou says.

“We didn’t kidnap you. Are you saying we’re friends, then?” Aiku says.

“I’m saying we’re not. You turned the child lock on, so that basically constitutes an abduction,” Barou says.

“I did that for Niko!” Aiku says, mentally patting himself on the back for the quick thinking.

“What? I’m fifteen, not five!” 

By the time your best friend finds somewhere to park, it’s already dark, and the spot is at the very edge of the lot, so then the two of you have to walk for another five minutes. She’s antsy by this point, but she does an admirable job of hiding it, only picking at her nails behind her back where she thinks you won’t see. 

“It’ll be alright,” you say as you reach the door to the restaurant. “I’m sure they’ll have space for two people, at least. Nowhere can be that busy, right?”

“I hope so,” she says, chewing on her lower lip.

You’re proven wrong almost as soon as you both walk into the establishment. Every single table has people sitting at it, and there’s a small crowd of people in the waiting area. Still, you and your best friend push past to where the hostess is standing. 

“Excuse me,” you say. “How long is the wait?”

“At least an hour,” the hostess says, her face wan.

“An hour?” your best friend says. “There’s nothing you can do?”

Of course, both of you know there isn’t, but it’s still disappointing when the hostess shakes her head regretfully.

“Would you like me to put your names down?” she says.

“Give us a minute,” you say. She nods, and you and your best friend walk a ways away. As soon as you’re out of the hostess’s earshot, you frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would genuinely be this busy.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting it either,” she says, exhaling heavily. “I would’ve been way more serious about being on time if I had.”

“What should we do now? I don’t mind waiting,” you say.

“It’s okay. I’m a little hungry, so we can go somewhere else and come back here another day,” she says.

“Are you sure?” you say.

“Yeah, I am. Let’s go,” she says. 

You’re heading towards the door when a robust voice stops you. At first, neither of you are sure if the speaker is referring to you, but when it becomes obvious he is, you turn around in confusion.

“Where are you guys going?” he says. It’s a man with dark hair and eyes like mismatched marbles, and he’s sitting at a table with two others. There’s a couple of empty seats, and he motions towards them. “We’ve been waiting for you two for forever!”

“Oh, you’re in their party?” the hostess says. You glance at your best friend, who mouths why not? at you, and then you smile at the hostess.

“Yes, we are,” you say.

“You should’ve said so from the start,” she says, shaking her head. “Right this way, please.”

You and your best friend follow after her, both of you more than a little lost at the turn of events, but who are you to turn down the offer? Sure, you don’t know any of the three, but at least this way you two didn’t drive out for no reason, and the restaurant’s crowded enough that if they have nefarious intentions, you should be able to get help relatively quickly.

As you sit down and the hostess offers you menus, you can’t help but glance at the three boys, wondering what exactly it is they want from you. Is this some elaborate scam? An effort to get you to pay for their dinner? You can’t tell. They’re unreadable, and all you can do is hope that the meal still goes as well as you had originally planned — otherwise, you’ll be really mad that you’re not at home instead. 

When Niko had first suggested calling ahead to make reservations, Aiku had privately considered him to be a nerd, and one of the idiotic variety, no less. A lethal combo. But outwardly he had nodded along and told him to go right ahead, mostly because it seemed like the kind of thing Barou would appreciate. Now, though, he’s glad that Niko had that kind of foresight, because the place is completely packed.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” the hostess says when they walk in and give her Barou’s name. Aiku doesn’t really know why Niko made reservations under Barou’s name, nor what the hostess means by the ‘rest of their party’, but she’s pretty, so he gives her a charming smile. She’s working now, so he can’t exactly push Barou towards her, but if he’s talking about himself…

She blushes and ducks her head, although the moment is ruined by Niko speaking up. 

“What do you mean, the rest of our party?” he says.

“You made a reservation for five, didn’t you?” she says, leading them to the table. Aiku exchanges looks with Barou, mostly because the two of them tower over the others, so it’s convenient, but Barou seems as confused as Aiku is. Both of them clearly heard Niko making the reservation for only three people, so how in the world had the hostess written down five?

“Uh,” Niko says, and then for some reason he’s turning towards Aiku for help? Aiku’s kind of distracted, though, both with celebrating the moment he just had with Barou and with discerning the color of lipstick the hostess is wearing (red or pink?), so when she directs her question to him, he admittedly panics a bit.

“Will the rest of them be arriving later?” she says.

“Yes,” Aiku says. Coral! That’s the shade he was looking for.

“No worries,” the hostess says. “Although you might want to tell them to hurry up, just in case.”

“Wait, what—?” Aiku begins, but she’s already dropping menus in front of them and racing off to take care of the next group of customers.

“You fucking donkey,” Barou said. “Who else is coming to this?”

“Nobody that I know of,” Niko says. “I only made a reservation for three. She must’ve gotten confused and written down five or something like that, but why’d you go along with it, Aiku?”

“Um,” Aiku says.

“What unparalleled eloquence,” Barou says. 

Aiku’s mind is racing. Firstly, he’s accidentally confused this poor hostess into expecting two more people, and secondly, how are he and Niko supposed to set Barou up with a girl in this kind of situation? The food may be great, but the ambiance isn’t exactly what they’re looking for.

Somehow, these two lines of thought get muddled into one solution, the catalyst of which is when he sees two girls heading towards the door, obviously disheartened by the long wait time for those idiots who didn’t make reservations.

Wait. If those two are girls, and two plus three is five, then Barou might just end this night no longer single!

Another quick recovery by Oliver Aiku. He’s getting better and better by the minute. 

“Hi,” the man who called you over says. “I’m Oliver Aiku.”

“Hi,” you say. The five-person table is a circle, and Aiku’s across from you; since it’s your fault that you’re sitting with these random guys instead of by yourselves, you squeeze between your best friend and the more intimidating-looking one, leaving her to be on the right side of the youngest boy in the group. “Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

“Likewise,” you say.

“I’m Niko,” the younger boy says. He has dark hair falling into a heart-shaped face, and you can’t fully see his eyes, but you think they might be some shade of bluish green. Idly, you wonder how his vision isn’t horrible given how overgrown his bangs are, but he doesn’t seem to be having any problems, so you suppose he must have some kind of method around it. “And that’s Barou.”

“I can introduce myself,” the one at your side snaps. He’s by far the most handsome of the trio, although you’re sure your best friend would disagree — she has bad taste, though, so that’s irrelevant — with a regal face and sharp eyes. His dark hair is spiky and his eyes are a vivid crimson, narrowed with irritation while his mouth tugs into a perfect frown. “My name is Barou.”

“It’s a pleasure, Barou,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same here.”

More than being a pleasure, it’s a little tense, so you return to reading your menu, not knowing what else to say, hoping someone else says something soon and rescues you from the ensuing silence. 

This is bad. Almost as bad as Japan’s performance in the last U-20 World Cup, which occurred right before Aiku moved up and joined the team. Almost as bad as that stain Lorenzo’s marinara left on the carpet. It’s that level of catastrophic, because clearly, Barou will take a lot more encouragement than originally anticipated. Kicking Niko under the table, Aiku nods meaningfully at Barou, who is also reading his menu, sitting next to the girl who’s doing the same.

It’s the perfect opportunity for small talk. Occasionally, the girl will peek at him over the top of his menu, so she’s clearly not affronted by him — either that, or she’s deathly afraid that Barou will kill her and is making sure he doesn’t do that when she’s distracted. If the latter is the case, well, it’s not entirely unfounded.

Solving the conundrum which has presented itself is even more difficult than their game against PXG was. How is Aiku supposed to flirt with someone for Barou? She’ll just end up liking him, which is rather counterintuitive, given that the end goal is to get Barou a girlfriend. 

If only Barou weren’t so stubborn! Aiku’s put him in the perfect spot, but instead of just reaching out his hand and snatching the opportunity up with both metaphorical hands, he’s sitting there, utterly absorbed by the intricacies of the restaurant’s entrees, which Aiku surmises are no doubt fascinating to people with such sensibilities.

It’s the girl, Y/N, who breaks the silence again. Clearing her throat and setting the menu aside, her eyes dart around the table before settling on Aiku. A natural consequence, given his dashing looks and genial personality, but not the one they’re hoping for at the moment, not in the slightest.

“We don’t know you, right?” she says.

“I don’t think so,” Aiku says. Has he gone out with her before? He’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if he had, but you can never be careful these days.

“Then why’d you invite us to sit with you?” she says.

Aiku’s in desperate need of an assist, and there’s only one person who’ll reliably send him one. Besides, the kid owes him a favor, so he doesn’t even feel guilty when he makes a face at Niko, as if indicating that he should be the one to answer the query.

“It was Barou’s idea!” Niko says.

“Excuse me?” Barou says.

“What?” Aiku says. 

“Yeah, it was. He felt bad that you guys were going to leave without eating, and we accidentally booked a table for five instead of three, like we originally planned, so he told Aiku to stop you guys before you were gone,” Niko explains.

“Oh, that was very sweet of you!” Y/N says. “Thank you so much. We both really appreciate it.”

Under the table, Aiku gives Niko a thumbs-up. Niko returns the gesture in kind, though neither of them let their true emotions show on their faces, which must be carefully schooled into blankness so that nobody else catches on to their scheming. 

“You’re welcome,” Barou says before freezing as he realizes that he’s somehow fallen for Niko’s lie, despite being there to witness the truth of the events. “Wait, no, it wasn’t—”

“Barou’s super considerate,” Niko continues, cutting Barou’s correction off. Aiku could just about cry. Niko’s a natural-born talent! He could never have predicted the younger boy’s sheer skill at this kind of thing. “Do you watch soccer?”

“Not really,” Y/N says thoughtfully. “I’ve never understood it well enough to become an avid fan, and my father prefers baseball, so it’s not something my family is into. I think it’s really cool, though!”

“Barou plays,” Niko says.

“So do you guys,” Barou says.

“Yeah, but you’re sitting next to her,” Niko says. “And you’re the king, right? Who better than you to explain the sport?”

“She didn’t ask for that,” Barou says, glowering at Niko and Aiku alike. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N says, even going so far as to smile at Barou. With a final suspicious glare at the two of them, Barou begins to explain the rules of the game to her, and Aiku takes advantage of his distraction to high-five Niko.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. “Where’d you learn this shit?”

“I watch a lot of anime,” Niko whispers back. “This is a classic set up for a twelve-episode romance that teaches the viewers about friendship, love, and what it means to grow up.”

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Aiku says after digesting this latest revelation, finding that it makes a surprising amount of sense. “But hey, whatever works!”

“Exactly,” Niko says. “Do you think it’s weird if I order chicken fingers from the children’s menu?”

“Order whatever you want, kid,” Aiku says. “You deserve it. I’ll even pay.”

“Yay!” Niko says. “Chicken fingers it is.”

Aiku doesn’t even mind treating him. If this is successful, then he’ll buy Niko all of the chicken fingers in the world in thanks. 

You’re more than a little grateful that Niko has given you something to talk to Barou about. Your best friend is busy texting her crush, the gerbil-looking one, who has apparently responded to her story, so you would’ve had to sit there in silence until she finished up or someone took pity on your helpless self. In this way, though, it’s much more natural, and even if it really was just an example of Niko feeling bad for you, it didn’t come across as such.

“You really scored a goal against the Japanese U-20 team?” you say after Barou has finished a long-winded explanation on the rules of soccer and some of the highlights of his career in the sport. In truth, you mostly tuned out the more technical details, but you have to admit that some of the things he’s mentioned about himself are rather interesting.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Wow,” you say. “You must be good, then.”

He shrugs in acknowledgement. “I’m good.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s bragging or anything like that. He’s just acknowledging an inevitable truth. He’s good. The way he says it, no one can deny it — not that you would’ve. Based on his build alone, you’d have expected him to have talent as an athlete; the things he’s mentioned have only been confirmation of that initial prediction, rather than blowing your mind in any significant way.

“Hi!” Your waitress’s arrival with a tray full of drinks cuts your conversation with Barou short, which you’re surprised to find you’re a little put-out by, at least until the grumble of your stomach reminds you of why you came to the restaurant in the first place. “Are you all ready to order?”

“I want the chicken fingers,” Niko says.

“The chicken fingers from the twelve and under menu? How old are you?” she says.

“Twelve,” Niko says. You frown, leaning closer to Barou in order to murmur in his ear.

“Is he actually?” 

Barou shakes his head ever so slightly. “No, but if that’s the only way he can get chicken fingers…”

“That’s a fair point,” you say. The waitress seems to share your doubts, but then Aiku flashes her a warm grin.

“My little brother’s heard so much about your entrees, and he can’t wait to try the, er, chicken fingers. Yes. The chicken fingers. He’s been talking about them all week,” he explains.

“Are they—?” you begin.

“They met like a month ago,” Barou says, rolling his eyes. “No relation whatsoever.”

“I see,” you say. You almost have to admire the lengths they’re willing to go to, as well as how natural they are with it. “Huh. I guess if it works, it works.”

“One order of chicken fingers, then!” the waitress says, jotting it down on her notepad, returning Aiku’s grin with her own. He has that kind of enviable charisma that lets him get away with a lot more than he should, and you’re more than a little jealous. “And the rest of you?”

You all give her your orders, and she promises she’ll be back quickly before running back to the kitchen. Once again, you’re left to your own devices, and given that your best friend is still texting that guy, you decide you’ll try and talk to the others at your table.

“Barou told me you guys are all in some program called Blue Lock together,” you say. “What’s that like? It sounded super intense.”

“It is,” Aiku scoffs. “I don’t even know if we’re supposed to be here at the moment.”

“We got permission from our coach,” Niko says. “But the guy who runs the program is kind of…what’s the word?”

“Freaky?” Aiku says.

“That works,” Niko says.

“I didn’t realize we were dining with rebels,” you say. 

“For the record, I was dragged into coming by those two,” Barou says.

“We didn’t actually drag him,” Aiku reassures you. “I mean, we tried, but he’s super heavy.”

“Too much training,” Niko says. “Barou, you should flex for Y/N — I mean, for everyone.”

“Hell no,” Barou says. “In public? Don’t be shameless.”

“So you’ll do it in private, then?” Aiku says. 

“That’s — that’s not what I meant!” Barou sputters. “I won’t do it at all!”

“Y/N, if you get a subscription to Blue Lock TV, then forget about asking Barou to flex. You can just watch him work out. He does it shirtless,” Aiku says. You choke on your water.

“What are you, some kind of salesman?” you say, coughing to dislodge the droplets of liquid scratching at your throat. “Was inviting us to sit with you a kindness or an advertisement?”

“Can’t it be both?” Aiku says.

“No, it cannot, you fucking donkey!” Barou says. “Please ignore him. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“You do train without a shirt on, though,” Niko says. “Quite often. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shirtless content on Blue Lock TV…Chris Prince stripped at one point, I’m pretty sure, and more than one of the Bastard München boys have had locker room features. I guess PXG is the only team without any fan service, since Barcha has Lavinho as a coach, and we all know how he is.”

“Good for them. You gotta give credit where it’s due,” Aiku says. 

“Agreed,” Niko says. “Hey, Barou, didn’t you take your shirt off after scoring in the game against the U-20s, too? Is it like an established habit or something?”

“Enough about my shirt,” Barou says through gritted teeth.

“Or lack thereof,” Aiku adds. There’s a baleful aura emanating off of Barou, and he doesn’t even need to say anything before Aiku winces like he’s been cowed. “Sorry. The opportunity presented itself.”

“Both of you are on thin ice. First you abducted me, and now you’re going on about this dumbass subject? And that’s not to mention the sauce stain from earlier. I bet neither of you cleaned it up,” Barou says. 

Aiku and Niko both look like they have been caught committing some crime. Barou’s about to snap, it’s very obvious, but you find his friends’ antics to be so amusing that you hesitantly pat him on the shoulder.

“Ah, I think they’re just teasing you. It’s common amongst people who are close to one another! I always make fun of my best friend for her taste in men,” you say.

“And I make fun of yours right back,” your best friend says, not even looking up from her phone. You roll your eyes at this.

“See? It’s really alright,” you say. “At the least, if you’re upset because we’re here, then don’t be. Neither of us mind. I mean, she’s not even paying attention to us. Too busy texting that Meriones unguiculatus of a man she deems crush-worthy.”

“Fuck you,” your best friend says. She ordinarily would have no idea what Meriones unguiculatus means, but given the context, you’re sure she’s figured it out.

“Don’t be mad because I’m right,” you say. “Anyways, like I was saying, it’s all good.”

There’s a strained moment where none of you know what Barou will do, but then he nods, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll let it slide, just this once. But the two of you better behave from now on, you got it?”

Aiku and Niko both seem to be so amazed that it’s a wonder they don’t salute at Barou’s barked-out order. Shaking your head and laughing, you decide it might be for the best if you try to talk to Barou yourself and leave his slightly problematic companions out of the conversation.

“So,” you say, to him and only him. “What’s the story behind the sauce stain?” 

“Holy shit,” Aiku says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“She’s a genius. A god. A fucking Barou whisperer,” he says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“What are the odds that we managed to find the exact girl that could put up with his bullshit?” Aiku says.

“Pretty high!” a new voice chimes in. It’s Y/N’s friend; she never introduced herself, and it doesn’t seem like she’s inclined to, but she inconspicuously slides her chair closer to where he and Niko are talking. “You guys are trying to set your friend up with Y/N, huh? Good luck. She only likes ugly dudes.”

“Barou’s…kind of ugly?” Niko tries. Aiku snorts.

“Let’s keep it honest here,” he says. “Anyways, what were you talking about earlier? Barou’s a nutcase. It’s, like, a miracle that Y/N’s managing to have a conversation with him.”

“Maybe he’s like that with you, but to me, he seems to be the type that’s totally respectful to women,” Y/N’s friend says, brandishing her index finger in the air as if she’s making a particularly salient point. “The bigger the muscles, the bigger the heart, isn’t that ”

“Is that a real saying?” Niko says.

“No, I just made it up,” Y/N’s friend says. “But it kind of fits in this instance, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” Aiku says. “But do you mean to say Barou would be this nice to any girl?”

“It’s not like I know him personally. Shouldn’t you be able to answer that better than me?” Y/N’s friend says.

“There aren’t any girls in Blue Lock,” Niko says. “This is the first time we’ve seen him interact with one, so we actually have no idea.”

“Ah,” she says. “That explains a lot. Anyways, yeah, if I had to guess, he would be.”

“Hm,” Aiku says. This throws a definite wrench in their plans — up until this point, he had been convinced that there were sparks flying between Y/N and Barou, mostly because he had never seen Barou so gentle and quick to calm down in his life. Yet, if Y/N’s friend is telling the truth, and he has no reason to think she isn’t, then this is actually just his true personality.

On the one hand, it’s comforting to know that Barou isn’t constantly on the verge of an aneurysm, and indeed can even be persuaded towards kindness in his day-to-day life. On the other, it doesn’t solve their problem, which is getting him to calm down when he’s interacting with his fellow Ubers teammates.

Aiku comes to a decision relatively quickly. It’s his experience as a captain which lends him that swiftness; on the field, split-second decisions are the only way to go. He’s good at taking information and rapidly synthesizing it to come up with workable solutions, and though this isn’t a soccer match, the stakes are almost just as high.

The facts of the situation are as follows: Y/N does not seem to mind talking to Barou, and given that they’ve been engaged in conversation almost this entire time, the inverse is also likely true. Furthermore, she’s proven able to persuade him not to freak out at himself and Niko when they were pushing his buttons, which is something no one has ever managed before and is somewhat the end goal of the outing. Of course, she apparently only likes ugly guys, and Barou’s far from ugly — as a fellow member of the non-ugly community, Aiku is confident in saying this — but things like that are subjective, so he decides he shouldn’t worry too much about that aspect.

Then there are the theories, namely Y/N’s best friend’s one about how any girl might have a similar effect on Barou. This could be true, or it could also not be, but Aiku only has one data point and a limited amount of time to work with, so despite the likely veracity, he has to set it aside as false for the time being. It’s not like there’s an endless supply of girls just hanging around for him to test out Barou’s reactions with, so in this moment, he’s deeming Y/N L/N as a special case, an outlier, and this can only lead to one conclusion:

Barou is totally into her. 

“Two younger sisters, really?” you say. While your best friend has been talking to Aiku and Niko in hushed tones, you’ve been preoccupied with Barou, who’s proven himself to be nothing like his first impression. You had expected him to be fussy and rude and intimidating, and while the latter adjective certainly still applies, he’s kind instead of spiteful and almost shy instead of brash.

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice, although his face does not shift in the slightest. “They’re much smaller, so I look after them a lot — when I’m home, anyways. Obviously, I haven’t seen them since I’ve been at Blue Lock.”

“How sweet of you,” you say. “I bet your mother appreciates you a lot.”

“I try to help her whenever I can,” he says.

You’re about to internally swoon, but then you stop yourself. So what if he’s athletic, helps his mother, is tall, handsome, kind, muscular, and supposedly good with kids? That doesn’t mean anything. He probably has a girlfriend, anyways, given all of these positive attributes—

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you say, standing up. Your best friend looks over at you in concern, for she knows of your distaste for public restrooms, and then she, too, stands.

��Want me to come?” she says.

“Yes,” you say, striding off without further explanation. As soon as the two of you are far enough from the table, you give her a distressed look. “I need help.”

“What’s up?” she says.

“I think—”

“Are you into Barou?” she asks, cutting you off. You blink at her.

“How did you know?” you say.

“You’ve spent almost the entire time talking only to him. It’s a little obvious,” she says.

“Oh, no,” you say. “He’s definitely caught on, then!”

“It’s not a big deal. According to Aiku and Niko, he’s single, so that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, and besides, if that’s the case, then he’s fair game, isn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with being interested in someone,” she says. 

“He’s single? How?” you say. “You’re telling me no one’s been interested in him yet? That’s impossible.”

“There is the whole ‘locked away in a facility with zero girls’ aspect to be considered…” she says.

“Well, that’s true,” you say, feeling dumb for having forgotten that. “Do you think he’s interested in me?”

“He’s been talking to you back, right? That’s a good sign, especially since he’s been ignoring his friends to do so,” she says. “There’s a decent chance. If anything, does he seem like the kind of guy that would be mean about rejecting you? You should just ask him for his number when we get back.”

“Me? Ask for his number?” you say.

“I’ve heard girls have high success rates when they approach guys that they’re into. What’s the worst that can happen? Either way, the three of them are heading back to some weird facility after tonight, so we can just leave and never see them again if it’s awkward,” she says.

You mull this over. Nothing she’s saying is wrong, and anyways, it’s been a while since you dated someone. Besides, you’ll probably not meet someone like Barou again for a long, long time, and when you really think about it, you’d rather live with a rejection than a what-if scenario floating around in your mind for the rest of your life.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll do it, but that means you have to dump the gerbil dude and move on.”

“Did that earlier. I couldn’t stop thinking of Tinkerbell the gerbil whenever I saw his profile picture; it totally killed the mood. Thanks a lot,” she says.

“It’s my pleasure,” you say. “Now, let’s go back. I have a number to get!”

“Um, hold on,” she says. “I do actually have to pee, and the bathroom doesn’t seem too dirty.”

You sigh, because now that you’re this pumped up, you don’t want to delay any longer, but you’re not about to abandon her, so you nod towards the door.

“I’ll wait here, then. Be quick!” 

“Well, well, well,” Aiku says. “Who would’ve thought we’d get to see the day?”

“What are you talking about?” Barou says when he notices that both Aiku and Niko are looking at him.

“What aren’t we talking about?” Aiku says. 

“It’s Y/N,” Niko says, defusing the volatile atmosphere rather efficiently. Aiku hands him a French fry off of his plate as a form of praise; accepting it happily, Niko chews and swallows before continuing. “You like her, right?”

“What? No,” Barou says quickly — too quickly, which means the answer is the opposite of what he’s just said. Aiku steeples his fingers together, because he couldn’t have imagined things going any better, and he feels like he’s entitled to a villainous pose or two every now and again. 

“You’ve been talking to her the entire time we’ve been eating, and you didn’t yell at her when she told you to calm down,” Aiku says.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Barou says.

“I guess it’s for the better,” Niko says. “Her friend told us she has a boyfriend.”

Aiku’s about to reprimand him for making things up, but before he can, he sees out of the corner of his eye that the tips of Barou’s ears have turned a surprisingly light and rosy pink, and then he can only shake his head in amazement. Niko’s really fucking good at this. Aiku almost wonders if he should ask the kid for anime recommendations or something.

“Really?” Barou says. 

“Really,” Niko says.

“That’s — I mean, it’s none of my business, so why are you telling me?” Barou says.

“You’re awfully upset if that’s the case,” Aiku points out.

“I’m not upset!” Barou says. “Just…I wasn’t expecting her not to be single, that’s all.”

“Expecting, or hoping?” Aiku says. Barou glares at him but does not respond, which tells Aiku all he needs to know. “It’s okay for you to have a crush on her. She seems nice enough.”

“Yeah,” Niko says. “If you guys get along, then there’s no harm in just asking her out. We’re going back to Blue Lock after dinner anyways, so it’s not like you’ll see her in the future if you don’t want to. Can you live with yourself if you don’t give it a shot?”

“Aren’t you a king?” Aiku urges. “What kind of king doesn’t put his best foot forward at all times?”

“The kind of king that respects other people’s relationships, you chewed up wad of spearmint gum,” Barou says.

“Oh, I was just making that up,” Niko says. “I wanted to see how you’d react. She’s definitely single.”

“You—!”

Aiku and Niko are saved from another one of Barou’s tirades by the arrival of Y/N and her friend. With a final malevolent sneer, Barou continues to talk to Y/N, who seems eager to pick up where they left off. Aiku high-fives Niko under the table.

“You’re a genius, buddy,” he says.

“Does this mean you’ll buy me dessert, too?” Niko says.

“If you’ll share with me, then sure.”

“Deal.” 

“When should I ask him for his number? It’ll be awkward if I do it in front of everyone, I think,” you say.

“Why would it be awkward?” she says. “I’m not about to judge you. I already know you’re going to do it.”

“I was talking about Aiku and Niko,” you say, though you’re specifically referring to Aiku — there’s a sense of naïveté to Niko, so the thought of being so bold in front of him doesn’t make you squeamish, but it’s a difference case with his counterpart. Oliver Aiku has a sort of suaveness to him that makes you feel as though he’s not been rejected once in his life, and that’s more than a little terrifying. What might such a master say about your feeble attempts at flirting? You don’t want to imagine it. The mere beginnings of the thought are preemptively giving you hives, so having the thought fully formed, or heaven forbid the actual event occurring…you shudder at the plethora of side effects you’ll no doubt undergo.

“That’s fair,” she says. “I can distract them, if you want. While we’re getting dessert, I’ll tell Aiku I’m having car trouble and ask if he can take a look. He seems like the kind of guy that would fall for that. I don’t know what to do about Niko, though…”

“He’ll probably go with Aiku, but even if he doesn’t, I think it’ll be fine if it’s just him there,” you say. “He’s pretty harmless.”

“You better not wimp out, then! If I have to embarrass myself by pretending to know nothing about cars, then the least you can do is actually ask for his number,” she says.

“I’ll do it!” you say. She obviously doesn’t believe you, so you pout. “Promise I will.”

“Fine,” she says. 

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine!” she says again. “Just give me a second before we go back, then. I need to think of what kinds of issues my car will be having…” 

“Hey, Aiku,” Y/N’s friend says. The entire table falls silent, including Aiku himself — he’s more than a little confused about what she could want with him. After all, he’s not done anything that would seem like he’s trying to pursue her, so there’s no reason for her to believe he’s interested, and it’s not like they’re close enough for her to be talking to him in specific.

“What’s up?” he says.

“My car is making a weird sound when it starts. I was going to wait to ask my dad when I got home, but if you know anything about cars, could you maybe…?” she says.

Aiku knows nothing about cars, and he’s about to tell her as much, but then Niko of all people is answering. He hasn’t heard the boy talk this much since they met, which means he’s really getting into this.

“Sure, we can both take a look while we wait for dessert to come,” he says. It’s suspicious, because if Aiku knows nothing about cars, then Niko’s understanding has to be in the negatives. The kid doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet, so how would he be of any help? Unless this is another skill he’s picked up from watching anime, in which case it seems like that’s another hobby Aiku needs to take up.

“Thanks,” Y/N’s friend says, clearly relieved. “Y/N, do you mind staying back so no one takes our table?”

“Barou, keep her company,” Niko says. “We don’t want them thinking we’re the dine-and-dash type.”

“It’s okay with me,” Y/N says before Barou can argue, which effectively shuts Barou up. Aiku’s beloved teammate only grunts in agreement, watching the trio out of the corner of his eyes as they scurry out of the restaurant and begin to wander about aimlessly in the parking lot.

“Can you, uh, describe this noise to me?” Aiku says. It’s not like that knowledge will really change much for him, but he thinks that it might be better if he at least pretends to put forth some effort into assisting the girl. After all, it’d be bad for business if he gets flamed as the rude, unhelpful type.

“Huh? Oh, I made that up,” she says.

“As I expected,” Niko says.

“What? Why would you do that?” Aiku says. Then he comes to a realization, and it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. “Hold on just a second, I’m not the one looking for—”

“That was a great method of leaving Y/N and Barou alone,” Niko says, cutting Aiku off before he can continue to embarrass himself. “Now they can figure things out between themselves.”

“Right?” Y/N’s friend says. “There’s only so much they can do when we’re all sitting there.”

“Yeah, awesome idea,” Aiku says, relieved to hear that she’s on their side. Girls take their friends’ opinions seriously. If Y/N’s best friend approves of Barou, then that’s a plus in Barou’s favor, and given Barou’s uniqueness, he needs all of the pluses he can get.

“And just so you know, you’re not my type, so don’t take any of this in a weird way. I just want Y/N to be happy,” she continues.

“Duly noted,” Aiku says. 

“Sorry I wasn’t faster in cutting you off,” Niko whispers when Y/N’s friend pulls out her phone and begins to play on it again. Aiku shrugs.

“No worries. Nobody’s perfect,” he says. “Although, honestly? If this night ends up the way we want it to, then I’d say you’re pretty damn close regardless.” 

“I’m really sorry,” Barou says as soon as your best friend, Aiku, and Niko have exited the building. 

“For what?” you say. The crowd is dwindling, for the restaurant is nearing its closing time, but it’s still busy enough that you have to stay close to him in order to be able to hear what he’s saying. Or maybe that’s an excuse you’ve made for yourself; either way, he doesn’t pull back, so you remain in the comfortable space between you both.

“Aiku,” he says. “Also Niko, but mostly Aiku.”

“Why? He’s not done anything too horrible,” you say. “He’s pretty funny. And Niko seems like a nice boy.”

“They have this idea in their mind,” he says. “It’s totally stupid, but that’s why they’re acting like this. They’re not usually quite as idiotic.”

“What do you mean?” you say. You almost want to tell him to hurry up so you can ask for his number before the others come back and your best friend gets upset with you, but you’d rather listen to him talk, and anyways once you ask him for his number there’s a chance things will go wrong, so you want to soak in these last few seconds before that happens.

“I mean, you know,” he says, and then he’s turning a color you never would’ve expected from someone as reputedly tough as him. “Just that they think I like you.”

“Like me?” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like I’m into you or something.”

You had hoped for it, but not seriously considered it — although, the teasing and whatnot do make a little more sense now that he’s added this context to it. If Aiku and Niko think he might be into you…you know you shouldn’t be fanciful, that it’ll eventually lead to disappointment, but you want to. You really want to, so when you next speak it’s tentative but optimistic.

“If you are,” you begin, nervous more than anything, though you’re certain the only cure is getting this over with, “I am, too. Into you, I mean.”

Barou’s lips are still parted as if he’s about to say something, but no words escape him. He just sits there and stares at you, as if you’ve said something profound or shocking or both. Probably both. You giggle, shifting in your seat and adjusting your position, because seeing him like this is endearing as much as it is uncomfortable.

“If you’re not, it’s alright, but my friend told me I should ask you for your number or something, so I don’t have any regrets when we leave,” you say. “She’s right, too. I’d have felt horrible forever if I never said anything.”

He’s still silent. You question if you’ve somehow caused him to malfunction, so you nudge his foot with your own under the table. This does nothing to break him out of his daze, and then you realize he’s probably trying to figure out how to best reject you, so you sigh.

“It’s okay to say no. There’s no expectation on my part. I just wanted to get it out there,” you say.

“No!” he says.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t have to be exuberant about it,” you mutter to yourself before smiling. “That’s okay, though! Thank you for listening and talking to me—”

“I mean, yes. No. I don’t know which question I’m supposed to be answering!” he says. “I do like you. That’s what I’m trying to say, but you just said so many things that I didn’t know what to respond to.”

“You like me?” you say. You had never in your wildest fantasies imagined someone like Barou being into you. It was the kind of thing that just didn’t happen, and yet, somehow, it had. Barou liked you. 

“I guess so,” he says. “That’s how Aiku would phrase it, I think. I enjoy talking to you, and you have nice table manners. You kept your hands and surroundings clean, and you didn’t spill anything, which is more than can be said about a lot of people. I really appreciate that kind of trait in a person.”

“Uh, thanks?” you say, because you’ve not really been complimented on your table manners before, but it’s kind of sweet. “Yeah, thanks. I’d compliment you back, but there’s so many things to say that I wouldn’t know where to start…”

“How about with your phone number?” he says. You’re pretty sure that that’s uncharacteristically bold of him, because his eyes widen as soon as he comprehends what he’s said, but he doesn’t take it back. Instead, he waits, his hands folded carefully in his lap as he watches you, probably wondering what you’ll say in response to the request.

Smiling at him, you pull out your phone and open your hand, waiting for him to give you his. 

“You got her number?” Aiku says as they’re driving home. Niko’s in the backseat this time, mostly because he offhandedly mentioned feeling nauseous after eating and Aiku has no interest in getting vomit all over him. “Way to go, man.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Barou says, gazing out of the window mysteriously. “I can’t exactly take her on dates or anything while I’m stuck in Blue Lock.”

“If you get Snuffy’s permission, you could,” Aiku says.

“We probably shouldn’t abuse that,” Niko says. “Otherwise, Ego will come up with some insane punishment for all of us. The guy’s a super-freak. I’m sure he’s got some crazy stuff stored away.”

“Very true,” Aiku says. “Don’t worry too much, though, Barou. If she’s the one, she won’t mind waiting.”

“How can I know if she’s the one when we’ve only met once? You’re delusional,” Barou says.

“It’s pretty simple,” Aiku says. “Do you want her to be?”

The moonlight hits Barou in a particularly elegant way at that moment. Aiku’s suddenly not surprised that Niko’s anime intelligence worked so well — Barou seems straight out of a girlish romance novel or TV show or something along those lines just then.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Then that’s that!” Aiku says, pulling into the garage and putting Snuffy’s car in park. “Trust me, there was major chemistry there, so I’m sure she’s of the same opinion.”

“It’ll work out,” Niko agrees. He’s clearly feeling much better now that they’re not in the car, his steps light and bouncy, his lips curving upwards at the corners. “You’re a great guy, Barou. We were talking about it earlier.”

Barou scoffs. “Of course I am.”

“Classic Barou,” Aiku says, throwing his arm around Barou’s shoulder. “So humble.”

“Get off of me,” Barou grumbles, shoving Aiku away, though there’s a marked gentleness to it that tells Aiku their plan worked. He’s excited to see the long-term effects — if only one dinner with Y/N was enough for Barou to relax this much, then the duration of their relationship might be akin to a vacation for the rest of the Ubers.

That night, Aiku and Niko are brushing their teeth in the bathrooms together, since nobody else is up and there’s a certain camaraderie built between them after their adventure.

“We did good today, Niko,” Aiku says after spitting his toothpaste into the sink. 

“Agreed,” Niko says.

The door slams open right after he does, which is horribly ironic timing, because it reveals a furious Barou. He’s already enormous, but his fury causes him to swell until his proportions are vaguely Hulk-like and entirely terrifying. Both Aiku and Niko glance at him in confusion, because he should have no reason to be upset, and then, right before he can start yelling, it hits them like a truck.

“Hey, you donkeys,” Barou hisses. “Did you think you could distract me by taking me to dinner? That stain is still there. Can neither of you do anything for yourselves? I’m going to kill you both, mark my words!”

Aiku groans. Niko face-palms.

Fuck. 

[sweetbunpura]

Rollo tries to propose to Yuu but everyone tries to sabotage him 😈

LMAO, Rollo has to get through so many people just to propose to Yuu!

Rollo vs NRC

The fourth year had come, gone, and they NRC students had returned to the school to graduate. Rollo had spent his apprentice in Fleur city, learning about all he could with his new found interest in volunteer work and planning for his future... in more ways than one. He had purchased a ring, intending to propose to the love of his life at the graduation. Him and Yuu had only grown closer in the time apart, which was a surprise to Rollo, for he had heard how many couples had struggled with long distance relationships.

Outside of phone calls, Rollo had not see her for a year, so had had no idea how much she had changed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the portal and into the Mirror Chamber. Other 4th years were in there and chatting among one another, most paid him no mind....but he halted as a call of his name sounded.

"Roll-kun!" Cater waved him over.

Rollo approached him and took in the ginger's new looks. Cater had stayed the same height but his hair was different, he had dyed red locks on top of his longer hair. He wrapped him up in a hug and smiled.

"Look at you! Your hair has really grown out! Yuu-chan's gonna love it."

Rollo gave a soft smile and dragged his fingers through his long gray hair. "Thank you, Cater."

"And a smile too? She really changed you~"

"Indeed." Rollo patted his pocket and felt the box against it. "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"Going to see Child of Man with that ring?"

Rollo jolted and sighed as he turned around to see a smiling Malleus. "Malleus...."

"Hello, Flamme." Malleus gave a small bow. "Am I right in assuming you plan on asking her to marry you?"

"Wait, no kidding!?"

Rollo sighed and nodded. "I am. Now, I'm off to go find her. Farewell."

He left, complete unaware of Malleus and Cater smiling at each other. From there, Rollo could not find Yuu anywhere, and everyone he had asked had pointed him in various opposite directions. Idia and Ortho had straight up lied to him, stating that Yuu wasn't even here to begin with. Silver and Sebek just shook their heads and said that she might be else where, just not on campus. And yet everywhere else had wielding the results of "I don't know"

He was getting frustrated at this point, but before he could even think of where else to go, the announcement for the graduation started. With a sigh, he went to the podium and waiting for eveything to start.

Once the ceremony ended, he departed the stage and was about to start looking for her again, he got tackled.

"Enough of this!" Rollo glared at Deuce, Ace, and Grim. "Why is everyone so hellbent on stopping me!"

"You can't ask her to marry you." Ace grumbled.

"Yeah!" Grim added in. "She's my henchhuman and I don't want you macking on her!"

"By the sevens... We're already dating!" Rollo growled and pried the three off of him. "This is getting absurd!"

"You can't blame us..." Deuce said. "She means the world to us."

"I understand that, but she means the same to me." He sighed. "And I haven't seen her all day. We've only been communicating through calls... And I miss her terribly."

"Aw."

Rollo jolted and turned around to see Yuu standing behind him with Cater and Malleus in a headlock. She smiled warmly at her and her hair had gotten longer, they were worked into brains with hair ornaments in them.

"Love."

"Heard you been looking for me and everyone sent you on a wild goose chase." She shook Cater ad Malleus. "Thanks to these two."

"Guilty as charged~" Cater laughed.

"It was all in good fun." Malleus huffed.

"Now." She dropped them as they landed on the ground face down. "What's up?"

"I wanted to ask you something." He reached into his pocket and before he could get down on one knee to begin, the others started gathering around.

"Aw~ Snapping Turtle's gonna propose~" Floyd.

"How beautiful!" Rook.

"I'll be the one designing the dress no doubt." Vil.

"About time." Leona.

Rollo sighed as the chatter started up around him, Yuu tugged him forward by his robes.

"I know you had this all planned out, but you know how these guys are." She kissed him. "Put the ring on, the answer's gonna be yes no matter what."

Rollo opened the box and slipped the ring on her before placing his forehead on her shoulder.

"I hate them."

"No, you don't.

[nottswitch]

Heyyy! Would really appreciate 49 and 71 with Theo, I believe you’ll rock this one

(Make it smutty, sweet thing🫦)

hey babe, thanks for believing in me lmao and like r we flirting cuz… hi 👀🫦

prompt list

49. "where’re you from?"

71. "your mascara’s ruined."

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; theo m-list ; how to request

18+ smut

being a new student at hogwarts during your last year was definitely going to be a challenge, you thought this morning as you walked to your first class. however, you quickly found out that maybe, just maybe, your assimilation into the new school would be way easier than you thought – a handsome slytherin curly-head named theo nott was very willing to help you adjust, both to the new atmosphere and the size of his cock inside your pussy as he slowly pounded you into his mattress in the evening of that same day.

"you’re so fucking beautiful, amore," he whispered into your ear as his cool fingers skimmed up and down your waist. the contrast between his cool touch and your heated skin heightened your senses, and each of his thrusts started echoing straight in your fuzzy head, tingles running all over your sensitive body.

"where’re your from, hm?" theo asked, his voice sultry and soft at the same time, much like his warm breath at your ear, adding to the mixture of temperatures on and around you.

in response, you could only let out a moan and the barely coherent name of your country of origin. theo hummed in approval of your pleasure-induced answer, following it up with a harder and deeper thrust that reached your cervix and made you nearly scream, a mixture of slight pain and pleasure going through your spine straight into your (malfunctioning) brain.

"so that’s where they make pretty girls like you, huh," theo murmured with a low chuckle as one of his hands traveled up your waist to cup your breast, your perked up nipple sliding between his index and middle finger. you whimpered at the sensation shooting pleasant sparks into your stomach, and theo got the cue, his lips latching onto your other nipple as he continued his slow, albeit now much deeper pace.

your hand found its way into his hair, tangling in his curls and tugging him a bit closer to your body, even though you were already connected in all possible ways. he moaned against your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple with more intensity, which made your peak approach a bit faster. a moaned-out curse in your native language made theo go faster inside of you, his cock twitching from anticipation of his own climax.

"sei il mio sogno, cazzo," he murmured, letting go of your nipple only to connect your lips in a slow yet passionate kiss, the heat of the moment making him switch to his native language as well. his lips felt heavenly against yours, your tongues circling each other in a sloppy dance of desire.

your orgasm washed over you in a tidal wave, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you let out a louder moan, born deep in your chest and making its way to the surface. it didn’t take long for theo to follow, spilling his load into you as he rode out your shared high.

"your mascara’s ruined," he whispered with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his tender gaze studying your pretty, blissed out face. his thumb softly traced the outline of your cheekbones, wiping away some of the residue of your ruined makeup. you smiled back at him, thinking that getting used to the new school’s environment wasn’t that bad, after all.

[kingkat12]

september in paris (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: none (for now lmao)

summary: your September vacation in Paris is polluted by the sight of sickeningly loving couples— what happens when you finally find someone who shares your frustrations?

word count: 1,715

a/n: currently in Paris for vacation right now lol, so enjoy this little drabble that I wrote for that occasion!! tihi

I hate September. It's either when school starts, or when I'm on vacation having the time of my life. 

Now, don't get me wrong; I love vacations. Especially since my recent get-aways have taken place in France because my father got a job there. And who am I to say no to free accomodation in the most romantic city in the world?

But being single in the most romantic city in the world is absolute torture— why had no one bothered to inform me of this? 

September was the peak month for tourism in Paris; the place was swarmed with couples, either completely fresh or on their honeymoon. Everything about it had me rolling my eyes— My favourite activity was to sit at different cafés around the city, giving rude stares to the happy couples passing by. I suppose it made me feel better about myself... although I would never say that out loud. 

My activites of bitterness would eventually end up being interrupted by a young man who sat down next to me one morning, completely uninvited, with a newspaper in hand. Something about it felt old-school, classic, but also annoying— did he not know that you shouldn't seat yourself this close to a stranger? Especially when there are other seats around?

I moved my nasty glare from the young couple passing us by, now watching the man next to me push my morning tea to my edge of the table to make space for his coffee. That was my last straw; "Pardon?"

He looked up from his paper, quirking a brow at me. "Yes?"

Okay, good-- I was relieved to hear that he spoke english. To demonstrate, I glanced around the practically empty café, waving my arms at the vacant spaces with a rather outraged look in my eyes. "Are you maybe new to Paris? There's a certain etiquette at cafés' here. You don't sit down next to strangers like this when the whole place is available,"

The man shrugged, folding his newspaper in his lap. "I think it might be you that is new to Paris," he said, his strikingly green eyes finding mine with intense challenge before he continued; "My family are patrons of this place, and this is my table. And it was my mother's before me, and my grandfather's before her. I thought I was nice by not telling you to move, but I most certainly could?"

My jaw fell, outraged. "What is this, middle school? There aren't assigned seats and tables out in public!"

"Actually, there are. And you're sitting at my table," He reached for his cup of coffee, not breaking eye-contact. "Care to move?"

Something about him was terrifyingly intimidating, but there was no way in hell I'd back down. Just as I was about to open my mouth and snap back once more, I couldn't help but take a few seconds to take in the sight of him; he was wearing a suit at around ten in the morning, his brown hair was gelled back tastefully, and I recognized his enormous watch from the ads around every bus stop in Paris. Was that seriously the newest Rolex? My mouth started to feel drier than a desert— who was this guy? Had I not seen him somewhere before? 

However, no matter what watch he wore, whether his mother and grandfather liked this table too, he still deserved to be told off for being such a stuck up prick. "I'm not going to move. I was here first,"

The stranger rolled his eyes, letting out an obnoxiously loud sigh. "Could we please not do this before the clock has even struck twelve? Be a good little girl and scram, please,"

"Excuse me?" Everything about this was outrageous; did he really think he could talk to me like that? "Sorry, who the hell do you think you are?—"

My rant was quickly cut off; "Hold on," he said, holding out his finger in front of my face as he watched a seemingly new couple pass us. His mouth curved up into a sneer, shaking his head in dismay as he glared at them; "I think these couples all around town are more annoying than you, can you believe it? They're fucking everywhere." He eventually turned back to me, now holding his hand out for me to take. "I'm Roman. And you?"

Roman? I was getting closer and closer to piecing together where I had seen him before— it was right on the tip of my tongue. Introducing myself, I warily shook his hand, unsure where this was leading to. "At least we can agree that the lovebirds are polluting the city,"

Roman's eyes rounded out, an amused look shimmering in his eyes. "I think I said that exact thing earlier today... Funny," 

It was clear that the atmosphere had changed. This would be the first time I ever bonded with a stranger over something so bitter. "Earlier than this? What were you doing up so early?" I decided that I'd entertain whatever this was.

With a shrug, Roman ran his fingers through his styled hair, checking whether it was still holding its form or not. "Just a meeting. I think I slept through most of it, actually,"

I held back a snort, nodding along with words. Then suddenly, it was as though a lightbulb appeared above my head— meeting? Just as I was about to ask him what he did for work, a rather loud bus passed us, and I couldn't believe who it was on the ad on the front of it.

Blinking rapidly, I kept waiting for the face on the bus to morph into someone else. Were my eyes deceiving me? Unable to keep still, I moved to the edge of my seat, my lips parting in shock at the realization that the man on the ad was the same as the one sitting next to me. 

Godfrey Industries - A Brighter Tomorrow. Beneath the bold text was his name, along with the title of world's youngest CEO. 

"There is no way in hell," I mumbled, turning to Roman with a horrified look on my face.

In turn, he bit back an obnoxious smirk. "I fucking hate that bus,"

"It has your face on it,"

"I hate that picture,"

I shrugged; "Why? It's a good one,"

Raising his brows, Roman snickered, leaning back against his chair with a casual manspread. "What, so now you say I look good? Quite the girl I've met on the streets of Paris,"

"Not on the streets," I mumbled, reaching for my cup of tea. "That makes me sound like a hooker."

"... You're right, my bad," Roman watched as I sipped my drink, and he put away his newspaper on a chair close by. "I bet a hundred bucks that your face will be all across the next bus that passes, though."

My brows drew together, huffing as I put down my tea. "You might as well just give me the money right away, then,"

"Why?" Roman tapped his fingers against the table, fighting the amused smirk that threatened to creep up his face. "You're telling me you're not a model?"

I was very happy to have swallowed my tea already— I would've spit it out on the whole pavement, if not. "No, I'm definitely not a model. Just visiting the city," Was he flirting with me? I couldn't quite put my finger on how we had gone from bickering to whatever this was. "So... Roman Godfrey, world's youngest CEO, what brings you to Paris?"

Roman chuckled as he reached for his coffee; "I'm here to roll around in self-loathing at the sight of happy people in love. You?"

I couldn't help but giggle— weirdly enough, I was starting to like this guy. "I have a week before I go back to college, and I have family in Paris. Just taking liberties of free accommodation, I guess,"

"I see," Roman nodded, his green eyes engraving themselves into my mind. "Would you maybe also like to take the liberty of a free drink later tonight, then? I have my own booth at Club Palais down by the Arc if you want to stop by."

Why was I getting so flustered? I wasn't about to show it— I somehow managed to look away from the most charming man I had ever met, hoping my hair would cover the blush creeping up my cheeks. "It seems you have your assigned seats all around town,"

That made him laugh all over; I couldn't help but notice how much I enjoyed the sound of his amusement. "Yeah... But the difference is that you're very welcome to take a seat, this time," Roman finished his coffee, grabbing his newspaper as he got up from his chair. I couldn't help but notice how tall he was— how was he even a real person? He reached into his blazer, pulling out a sleek, beige card. "Here's my number. Feel free to call if you can't make it tonight, or if you ever feel bored during your week here. There are many fun things to do in this city... Especially when you're two."

I accepted the card between my fingers, trying not to think too much about the feeling of his hand against mine. What was that last sentence supposed to mean? I didn't have time to think it over— "Will do,"

Roman nodded, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a satisfied smirk. "See you, then," 

Just as he was about to leave, another sickeningly sweet couple passed us. Roman gave me a look, imitating the urge to throw up, and I had to clasp a hand over my mouth as the couple turned towards us at the sound of my laugh. 

Roman tucked his hands into his pockets, shaking his head as he let out a hearty chuckle, disappearing into the crowd of people passing the café.

I couldn't help but sigh-- I still hated September. But this vacation seemed to turn into the best time of my life, just as I had predicted it to be.

[hoshinasblade]

Got some cute ideas.

Hoshina Soshiro coming back to work saw the fem reader carrying a baby kitty and smiling at it and her smile is like it was from heaven so soft and gentle.

You can FREELY at any twist on it be my guest. 🤌🏻

lmao can we all agree that hoshina is a cat person but in my head this can mean two things - he is fond of cats, and he is a cat in human form iykwim.

hoshina does not consider himself a jealous man.

from an early age, he has learned the virtue of being contented of whatever he is given, and on scenarios when he cannot help but to be discontented with what the world has dealt him with, he has also mastered the art of being competitive enough to always come on top.

an ugly feeling started to gnaw at hoshina's insides when he saw you smile with a brightness he's never seen you worn even when he is around. maybe it's his instinct, but he cannot stop himself from already hating whoever is at other end of your smile.

you spotted hoshina by the corner of the street and though your first thought was ask him why he is frowning, the animal you are cradling in your arms started meowing. "look what i found!" carefully, you waved at hoshina who has started to walk towards you - his mouth is in a straight line, but you could not stop your excitement from spilling over. "he looks just like you, soshiro-kun!" you giggled.

on your left arm rests a kitten, its orange fur stained with so much grime it almost looks like a used feather duster. the animal gave out a high-pitched meow when you lightly touched its head, petting it. the kitten was such a small thing, he noticed, and the fact that its eyes are also half-closed does not escape him. "you think i look like a gremlin?" he asked you.

"sssh! he is gonna hear you!" you scolded hoshina in the lowest volume of your voice you could muster. "i already named him, by the way."

"i literally just saw you picked it up like, not even fifteen minutes ago," hoshina bantered. seeing it squirming against your chest, he attempted to touch the kitten, only to receive a soft hiss. hoshina gave you a betrayed look.

"you called hinata-chan a gremlin.” you laughed at your boyfriend’s offended expression. “you gotta be nice to our son, you know”, you added sheepishly. you lifted the kitten a bit and nuzzled your cheek against its fuzzy head. hinata-chan mewled, and hoshina’s frown deepened until he realised what you just said.

the topic of having children was something you have discussed with hoshina not long ago, and although both of you dream to have miniature versions of each other running around the house someday, you have also decided that neither of you are ready to be having kids at the present. a boy and a girl - that’s what you and hoshina are planning to have maybe five, ten years from now.

the kitten looks awfully like a baby by the way you are holding it, and hoshina melted. you could sense his hesitation, so with your free hand you grabbed hoshina's wrist and directed him to put his palm on the kitten's fur slowly. "poor thing's only a few weeks old, i think. we gotta take care of it, or it's not gonna survive," you told him. the kitten, still resting on your arm did not make a move, and gaining confidence, hoshina began to gently stroke and scratch its forehead.

"i thought hinata would be a nice name - something sunny, something warm," you explained. "it reminds me of you."

the kitten's eyes remained half-closed, but after a moment it opened its mouth and its small tongue lapped on hoshina's finger, purring.

touched, hoshina breathed a sigh of relief. "nice to meet you, hinata-chan. you're absolutely going to be one spoiled cat."

a/n: lmao this is so messy but i see the potential, hoshina would definitely have beef with a literal kitten over you.

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 23 - stockings

könig x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1k, established relationship, stocking kink (obv), oral.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

“What are . . .” your boyfriend asked, mind blanking mid-sentence to gawk at you. You had to wave your hand at him to snap his attention back to where it needed to be. “What are those, liebling?”

You stood there awkwardly, half in the kitchen, not sure what he meant. You looked down at yourself, still in your pj’s from last night. Nothing new or different. 

“What do you mean?” you asked after an uncomfortably long silence.

“Those,” he said motioning to your legs with his spatula. You could smell whatever he was whipping up for breakfast cooking closer and closer to burnt in the kitchen. “Why . . . what . . .” he asked, growing more and more flustered. 

“Oh,” you said, holding your leg out, thick black lace covering it from toe to thigh. “These? My socks? What’s wrong-”

“No no no no,” he said, hands out, drizzling back and forth between German and English. You could really tell he was getting frazzled now. That, and he had definitely burnt breakfast and still hadn’t noticed. “Those are not socks. Those are . . . big? Tall? Taller than socks. How is it- . . .”

“Ohhhhh,” you said, nodding, finally understanding what word he was searching for. “They’re called stockings,” you said showing off your other foot with a wiggle of your toes. “I packed them because I figured it would be cold here. Got to have layers!”

He continued to stand there confused, eyes raking over your legs until the smoke alarm beeped. That broke the spell. Your boyfriend jumped to attention, dashing into the kitchen, German swears rattling out behind him ad he waved away smoke and tried rescue the charred remains of his breakfast. 

You padded away with a smirk, soft feet barely making a sound against the hardwood, and decided to have cereal for breakfast. 

König kept his large hand wrapped around your knee, fingers flexing into the warmth of your inner thighs, that night while you cuddled on the couch. There was no TV or internet in the alpine cabin he had rented for the month, so, barring your boyfriend suddenly blooming out of his shell and become an active conversationalist, there was very little the two of you could do once the snow piled up and the sun set. 

He had built a fire early in the morning and kept it fed all day, knowing that it was the only heat for the small cabin. When your boyfriend had told you it was a “charming” and “rustic” cabin getaway in the Alps, you hadn’t fully understood what you were getting into. While König had enough size to spend his time indoors in just a t shirt, you had to seriously bundle up. Besides your long stockings you had on: a pair of large wool socks, thermal sweats (these you had wormed out of once König had added his body heat between your legs) over your pj shorts, a long sleeve base layer, a t shirt, and a thick, cabled, sweater you had bought in the cute little town nestled along the mountain road before making the trip up. Anytime you sat down, such as right now, you also had a blanket (or three) wrapped around you. 

König ran his hand up and down your thigh, fingers running along the nubby knit of the stitches, squishing fat and muscle under his grip. You loved it. He was so warm. Pure body heat did so much more to raise your temperature than all your clothes and blankets combined. You cozied up as close as you could to his massive form, stealing as much of the warmth pouring off of him as you could, and almost fell asleep. 

Then, the blankets were suddenly shucked off of you, the cold ambient air shocked you awake. You boyfriend’s large hand pushed you flat to the couch cushions, splaying your legs to make room for himself. 

“Wha-” you mumbled, bleary eyes unable to see the feral hunger, lit orange by the firelight, in your boyfriends eyes as he loomed over you.

His hands ran up your legs until they were stopped by your shorts. You moaned, more from the return of that blissful heat than anything else. 

“Oh,” he groaned, fingers sinking into the meat of your inner thighs. You bit back another moan. Your silent man rarely said anything during sex and you did not want to miss it. “So pretty like this,”

He roughly pulled your shorts down, leaving you cold and bizarrely over-clothed on your torso and feet with your bare pussy exposed. He groaned again, large thumb pushing at your seam until you opened for him, sparkling slick spilling out over your thighs. He pulled your body toward him, popping your leg squished against the back of the sofa up to drape over his shoulder. He pressed kisses down your black stockings, biting your skin with a muffled groan that rumbles in his chest, his head snug to your core. 

You laced your fingers in his hair, wavering between getting his attention enough to move to the bed or push him down to finish what he’d started. 

“Babe- Ah!” you whispered, even though you’re absolutely alone in the small cabin. Hell, you two are possibly the only two people this side of the mountain. He forced your words to transform into a breathy moan as his nose slid through your pussy, high-points of his face painting with your slick as he drug through it. You shivered as his open tongue finally lapped at your hole, sucking large, lazy, strokes around your folds, ignoring your clit almost entirely. 

“König,” you moaned, bucking your hips the tiniest little bit you could in his grip to try to lead him to where you needed him most. 

Your boyfriend just chuckled, hands lovingly circling the ribbed, elastic bands at the tops of your stockings as he pulled up onto his elbows. You groaned in frustration when he sat up on his knees, leaving you chilled and needy. He wiped your slick from his face with the back of his hand, the other adjusting himself in his sweats. He patted your hip to signal you to get up. He gathered you up in his arms, blankets and all, once you did.

“Undress, but leave those on,” he instructed, stroking at your legs as he carried you toward the bedroom. “You’ll buy some more once we get home, yes?”

[targaryen-dynasty]

Gif 16 for Daemon 🤓 and maybe size kink? You can add a kink if it fits the story! And I'm happy with any AU... you can decide!😄

Thank uu!! 💕

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 10 -> GIF.

Modern!Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, reverse cowgirl, overstimulation, size kink, dumbification, cream pie, daddy kink, praise kink, power imbalance, dacryphilia, slight gaslighting, pussy slapping, female reader, modern Daemon

WORDS: 1.4 K

NOTES: Hello and welcome to my modern!Daemon debut. Added a few kinks to this lmao. I hope it lives up to your expectations and thanks for requesting this Vanessa. 🤍

You had long stopped bouncing up and down on Daemon’s thick cock like a dumb bunny, reduced to nothing more than a squirming and whining mess with orgasm number three rippling through your body. 

He had a strong arm snaked around your waist to keep you firmly pinned against his broad chest, fingers intertwined for you to keep yourself grounded, whilst his other hand had made itself at home between your legs, rubbing your clit with reckless abandon. It sent wave after wave of fire through your veins, the burning between your legs apparent by the way you squeezed them shut only for him to pry them apart right after. 

Tilting your head forwards, you caught a glimpse of his thick cock splitting your poor pussy open, sheathed inside of you and filling you to the brim. That sight alone was arousing enough to push you into a frenzy, mind clouded by his domineering and intoxicating presence. He was so, so much bigger than you, always towering over you and caging you in like a little bird, but you could always leave if you wanted. If. 

“Stupid girl makin’ such a mess for me,” Daemon rasped with his nose pressed against your cheek, his calloused fingers smearing the renewed wave of your arousal over your swollen folds, and he felt most of it trickling down his big cock and heavy balls. 

It was astonishing he managed to stay hard for so long, since he had reached his own orgasm somewhere between your first and second. “Don’t you like this, baby?”

Uneven breaths shook your body, interrupted by a cry that followed the harsh slap his hand served to your pulsing pussy. The smacking sound of it colliding with your cunt made your wetness more apparent to you, sending heat straight to your cheeks. “I asked you a question.” His voice was sharp, demanding. 

“I-I,” you stuttered, your mind too hazy to even process his words in the slightest. “No… Daemon,” you whined, unable to relax with his fingers strumming your clit, “it’s too-too much.” 

Daemon mouthed along your jaw, licking up the tears that had brimmed in your eyes and ran down your cheeks. A mocking chuckle fanned over your damp skin, adding to the humiliation you felt. “Don’t call me that,” he rasped, sinking his teeth into your skin. The bite stung, yet it was not at all as uncomfortable as the stinging and burning between your legs. It was the familiar stinging from being stretched out by him, but he was still so big, you had to accommodate him somehow. “Say it, or I’ll get a lot meaner.”

His cock dragging along your sweet spot as he thrusted up into you once elicited a quiet mewl to slip past your lips, your face contorting in both pleasure and pain. “Mh… I-,” you whimpered, tipping your head back and taking in a deep breath. “T-Too much, daddy.” 

Knowing you could make use of your safe word if it truly got too much for you, he didn’t stop the ministrations of his fingers, circling your clit and dragging them through your soaked folds. 

Daemon groaned against the side of your face as your body subconsciously started to grind back and forth against his hand, sucking him in and practically choking his cock.

“Fuck,” he panted, seemingly needing a few moments to regain his composure. “Just can’t get enough of you and this sweet, little cunt of yours… always driving me mad when she’s squeezing me this tight.” At this point he was just rambling, the praise surging straight to your head – and down between your legs. 

The interplay between the stinging pain and pleasure was driving you insane, bordering on the fine line to madness and being oddly addicting. Paired with his praise, the coil in your belly pulled tighter, and not too slowly. 

“Your pussy is fuckin’ weeping for me, bunny,” he continued, spurred on by the clenching of your walls around him, “gripping me so tight, fuck, as if she doesn’t want me to leave.”

Daemon had you quivering on his cock, grunts and groans spewed with expletives tumbling over his lips. Your legs clamped around his thighs, locking him balls-deep in hopes of stopping him from thrusting up into you. 

“Just one more, c’mon,” he drawled, his other hand releasing yours, darting up to grab your chin and force your face toward him. This allowed him to press his lips to yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue licking its way into your mouth, swirling around yours. The intensity had you squeezing your eyes shut, your whimpers greedily swallowed by him. 

As he pulled back to catch his breath, you looked at him with half-lidded eyes, meekly shaking your head. His blue ones, on the other hand, appeared glazed over, hazy with lust as he fucked up into you.

Your mind and body were so filled with Daemon that breathy gasps and quiet whines were the only things leaving your lips, occasionally accompanied by daddies and oh gods. 

But Daemon wasn’t having any of it. 

He released your face, groping at your breast and pinching your nipple instead, while he dragged the tip of his nose along your cheek. “Oh, yes, you can,” he rasped, mockingly, the softness with which he had spoken before long gone. “Don’t you want to make daddy proud, pretty girl? Huh?” Oh, how badly you wanted to please him and make him proud. You always did. 

You whined in despair, no chance for your lips to push into a pout with his thick cock driving deeper, a deliberate thrust of him forcing your pussy to take him.

The motions of his fingers stilled for a moment, and you basked in the feigned calmness of him finally stopping his attack on your clit – only for them to be replaced by the pad of his thumb, applying a bit of pressure as it circled over your little bud.

Your fourth orgasm hit so suddenly that Daemon was surprised. Fucking you through it, he buried his nose in your hair, his wanton groans adding to the pleasure that rippled through you. 

“Look at that,” he cooed, his eyes flickering between your fucked-out expression and your tits, mesmerized as they bounced each time he forced his cock back into you. “Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, mh?”

You trembled under his touch as his fingers still continued their assault on your body despite the aftershocks slowly subsiding, not able to focus on his praise.

When you tried to push his hand away, he merely tutted, but was generous enough to give in to your wishes, since you had given him exactly what he desired. 

It was not always about fucking you just to spill his seed for him. Sometimes, he just craved to display the dominance he held over you, using you however he pleased, and coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your wrecked, little body.

And tonight, he had done just that.

Releasing a shaky breath, your spent body toppled back against his sturdy frame, secured by his strong arms around your waist. Your heart hammered against your chest, threatening to explode at any given moment with how badly your body was shaking from four overstimulated orgasms.

There was a comfortable silence surrounding you two, only broken by his raspy voice piercing through it. “Up for a shower, sweet thing?” he crooned against the sensitive spot behind your ear before pressing a soft kiss to it, and you didn’t even have to look at his face to know there was a smug smirk adorning his chiseled features. 

But with how well he had fucked you, he deserved to be smug about it.

“That sounds good,” you panted, reaching behind you to slowly curl your fingers into his soft, silver tresses, prompting him to gently bump his forehead against the side of your face. 

Something reignited the flame inside of him at that moment. Something that came every time you focused your attention on him in a non-sexual way. It was clear he was not done with you yet – not when his half-hard cock still was throbbing inside of you. 

However, a shower seemed like a good way to catch a little break for the sleepless night that lay ahead of you. 

[pedrospatch]

We love a writing prompt challenge - I'd love to see what you do with post!outbreak Joel and ❛ what if i hurt you? ❜

smut prompt challenge

Thank you so much for sending this one in to me my darling! <3 I decided to be a little adventurous with this one, I hope you like it. Also, it turned out to be a longer than I meant to, it was supposed to just be a blurb/short drabble and it turned into a 3k oneshot. Whoopsie. I am not at the point where I can write smut with no plot, I have to have at least a teensy bit of plot lmao.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors dni. explicit. post outbreak, set in Jackson. established relationship. jealous/possessive/slightly intoxicated Joel. reader is just a lil bit toxic too. rough sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, bit of spanking, praise and pet names. very lightly implied age gap (reader is referred to as kid by an older side character but she’s in her mid to late 20s, Joel is canon age, mid 50’s; purely self indulgent with the age thing tbh) okay, I think I got it all.

word count: 3k

“Alright kid, I’m heading out for the night,” Seth announced, flipping off all of the lights inside of The Tipsy Bison. He made sure to leave one last dim yellow light on for you so that you could finish cleaning up around the bar. He tossed you a set of keys to the building from where he stood near the front door. As he shrugged into his blue denim jacket, he asked you one last time, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay locking up the place all on your own at this hour?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You walked over towards him, twirling the set of keys between your fingers. “Oh please. What could possibly happen to me in a secured, gated community where everybody knows everybody, Seth?” You questioned him, shaking your head slightly. “And besides, it’s not like we’ve got a register full of cash just waiting to be robbed. It’s the end of the world, so I think I’ll be just fine closing up shop.”

“Well, you got me there,” he sniffed. “I suppose I don’t have anything to worry about.” He paused, lowering his voice as he added, “And much less when you have your very own guard dog sitting over there and keeping his watchful eye on you.”

You glanced over your shoulder at Joel. He was sitting at the opposite end of the long bar nursing what had to be his third or fourth glass of barrel aged bourbon; even after all the shit you two had been through together over the last several months while making the dangerous and violent trek across the country, Joel had never, not once, behaved like this with you. He had never been this ridiculously overprotective of you, not until you’d begun working as one of the evening bartenders at The Tipsy Bison. He wasn’t all too fond of your new role in Jackson, and he’d made it abundantly clear by dropping in late at night to make sure the rowdier male patrons who would frequent the bar after evening patrol were behaving, keeping their hands to themselves—and off of his girl.

You turned back to Seth, flashing him a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Look, I know he can be kind of rough around the edges sometimes. But he’s not all that bad, you know?”

“Kind of rough around the edges? One look from Miller can send anyone running for their lives in the other fucking direction,” he remarked with an amused snort as he pushed the door open. “Be sure to turn off that last light before you leave, kid. Oh, and don’t forget that I’m going need you here tomorrow at three for the opening shift, alright?”

“Got it. See you tomorrow,” You said, giving him a little wave as he left. You pulled the door closed and locked it behind him, giving it a gentle tug to make sure it was secure. Shoving the set of keys into the back pocket of your light blue denim cut off shorts, you made your way back across the quiet, empty bar and over towards Joel. You let out a soft sigh, lightly draping an arm around his shoulders. “Joel, please. It’s almost one o’ clock in the morning. I still have quite a bit to do around here before I can leave,” You stated. You reached up, affectionately running your fingers through his graying, dark brown curls. “You have patrol duty in a few hours. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll be fine on my own.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t no way in fuckin’ hell I’d let you walk home alone at this hour.”

You sighed again, withdrawing your hand from his hair as you stepped back.

Joel turned on the bar stool he’d been perched on for most of the night, his dark brown eyes taking the sight of you in; they glazed over your fitted, tight black tee shirt with a neckline that scooped way too low and exposed too much skin for his liking. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line as his gaze wandered down further, noticing how the frayed hem of your cut offs fell a couple of inches above the middle of your thighs. “You really gotta fuckin’ wear that outfit every night?” 

You glanced down at yourself, frowning. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“I just don’t fuckin’ like it,” he muttered gruffly, his fingers holding onto his glass of whiskey in a near death grip. “You’re showin’ off way too goddamn much. Every fucker you served tonight got more than a fuckin’ eyeful. I probably watched ‘bout a dozen idiots stare at your tits and openly flirt with you right in front of me, you know that?”

“There’s a reason why this is the uniform I have to wear, Joel,” You teased with a giggle, hoping to ease the tension that was practically radiating off of the man.

“You fuckin’ enjoyin’ this?” He asked bitterly as he glared at you. He drained the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass down onto the counter with a little more force than what was necessary. His jealousy was seeping out of him, and you’d be a damned dirty liar if you said you didn’t find it so incredibly hot. 

“Mm, just a little bit,” You replied with another tiny giggle. You leaned up against the bar and crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze meeting his; you noticed the way the seething anger flashed in his dark eyes. His raw, raging emotions were only exacerbated by the amount of bourbon he’d had to drink that night. “Oh lighten up, Joel! I’m only kidding and you know that. Listen, the outfit and the flirting, it’s just part of my job as a bartender. It’s something that all the girls around here have to do. I’m just eye candy for the lonely and horny patrolmen who have nothing better to do with their free time. Besides, Seth makes it very clear to all the fucking guys around here that they can look but they can’t touch—”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Joel snarled, suddenly rising to his feet. “I don’t give a fuck if they don’t touch you, alright? I don’t want those bastards lookin’ at you, hell I don’t even want any of them so much as fuckin’ breathin’ in your direction!” He drew closer towards you, his voice going so dangerously low it sent a little chill right up the length of your spine. “You’re mine, you fuckin’ understand me? You are mine.” 

Your playful smile faded slightly. 

His possessiveness should have bothered you. It should have angered you, even. You were a human being, not his piece of property. But as you drank in the sight of him, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, the way his nostrils flared, and not to mention that all too familiar murderous look in his eye, you couldn’t help the wanting heat that flooded your lower belly.

“Then take me,” You murmured, your voice soft.

Joel sobered up ever so slightly. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter, Joel. I said, take me.”

Joel stared at you, mouth agape. “You’ve lost your damn mind. We’re in a fuckin’ bar—”

“A dimly lit, locked bar with no one else around,” You smirked, pulling your top down to expose the black lace bra you wore underneath. “You say I’m yours, so show me. Right here, right now.”

Joel’s cock twitched behind his zipper, his mouth going dry when he caught a glimpse of the way the soft, delicate lace hugged the delicious curve of your breasts. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him as he watched you bite down on your bottom lip and tilt your head up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently—you knew how to play him just like a fucking fiddle. 

“Baby, no. Not here.”

You pouted playfully. “Don’t you want me?”

“Not like this,” he rasped, although the continued straining against the dark blue denim of his jeans stated otherwise. “I’m drunk, I’m pissed off—I just don’t trust myself with you right now.”

You smiled sweetly at him and stepped forward to shrink the gap of distance between your bodies.

You slid your hands underneath his brown jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. You placed a hand on his chest, right over his heartbeat as your eyes met his. “I trust you.”

He rigidly shook his head. “What if I hurt you?”

“I trust you,” You reassured him. “Please, Joel. I just need you to fuck me, right here, right now. I need you to show me that I’m all yours. Yours and only—”

Joel didn’t even bother to let you finish.

He reached out for you and pulled your body flush against his, his mouth crashing violently against yours; his tongue darted through your parted lips, dominating your own in a way that made you melt into a submissive little puddle right in his large hands. He wasted no time, moving his lips down to your neck where he started nipping and biting at your delicate flesh with his teeth—hard enough that your silky skin would be covered in discolored marks tomorrow. But any worries about him being too rough had gone out the window. He wanted to mark his territory. He wanted every motherfucker in Jackson to know you belonged to him.

“Joel,” You moaned out his name and clutched fistfuls of his dark green flannel shirt.

He said nothing, allowing his mouth to continue ravaging you as his hands started ridding you of your clothes; he broke contact for as second, just long enough to pull your shirt over your head. You aided him and reached around yourself to unhook your bra, carelessly tossing it somewhere behind the bar. Your shorts and matching lace underwear came off next, along with your tan brown cowboy boots. 

Normally, Joel would take his time. He’d kiss and worship his way across every inch of your entire body, but not tonight—no, tonight he was going to take you quickly, roughly. Between all the alcohol and his pent up frustrations, being gentle was the very last thing on his mind.

“C’mere.” Joel yanked you over towards a small, square wooden table just a few feet away from the bar, the same damn table where patrons would enjoy their after work duty drinks. He gripped the back of your neck and shoved you down, bending you right over the table; you let out a little gasp as your warm, naked body hit the cold, laminated wood. His rough, calloused hands glided their way down your smooth back and he took a single step backwards to admire the view. “Open up for me, sweetheart. Let me see you—all of you.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him with lustful, hooded eyes. Biting your lower lip, you did as you were told and spread your legs, your entire body erupting in goosebumps as the chilly air coming from the vents of the building hit your throbbing center. 

Joel groaned, noticing the way your inner thighs were slick, coated with your own arousal. “Look at you, my pretty girl. Already soakin’ wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Giggling, you turned away from him and pushed your feet apart even wider. You then opened your mouth to speak, but instead let out a loud yelp when you felt him deliver a swift but harsh strike to your ass with the palm of his hand. 

He’d never fucking done that before.

Joel began kneading at the spot he’d just struck you with his fingers so aggressively that you were certain you’d find bruises there in the morning. 

The thought alone made you drip onto the floor.

“Joel—” You lifted yourself slightly off of the table.

“Stay down,” he commanded, pushing you back down.

You nodded and pressed your cheek flat against the table, your wet, aching walls clenching in pure anticipation as you heard his belt buckle clinking followed by the sweet sound of his zipper coming undone. Seconds later, the tip of his rock hard length pressed against your drenched slit.

You spread your legs even wider, prompting Joel to chuckle.

“You want me bad, don’t you my little darlin’?” he nearly taunted you. “Hm? You want me inside that pretty little pussy?”

“God yes I do—please fuck me,” You pleaded him. “Please, Joel. Please.”

He hummed. “Since you’re bein’ an awfully good girl and askin’ so politely…”

Joel didn’t even finish his sentence. There was a momentary pause and before you could ask him what the hell he was waiting for, he slammed into you, sheathing himself in your tight heat.

No warning. No warmup.

No time for you to think about anything except for the feeling of his thick, hard cock filling you up and stretching you completely.

You gasped out as all the air left your lungs. “Joel!”

Gripping your shoulders, he slid himself out of you entirely before delivering another powerful blow, one that had you seeing fucking stars. He didn’t give your body any time to adjust to him as he began to thrust, picking up a wild pace that you felt would split you in half if he didn’t ease up.

He’d fucked you plenty of times before—but never like this.

Senseless.

You gripped the edges of the table, gasping for a breath—you tried to cry out, but when you opened your mouth, all that came out were quick, pathetic little pants, desperate for air.

It hurt.

But the kind of hurt that felt so fucking good that you wanted more and more of it.

“You look so goddamn pretty, takin’ my cock like that,” Joel grunted out. His hands had abandoned your shoulders in favor of your hips, his fingers bruising the soft flesh there. “What a fuckin’ good girl you are for me, baby. Such a good girl—”

Planting your shaky hands on the table top, you pushed yourself up.

Joel’s hands left your hips. He slid an arm around your shoulders, pulling your naked back against his broad, clothed chest where he held you firmly in place as he continued to fuck you into oblivion with his barbaric, almost animalistic thrusts. 

“Who do you belong to?” he whispered into your ear, his other hand resting on your stomach. “Tell me, darlin’. Who do you belong to?”

“You,” You somehow managed to choke out a reply between gasps. “I belong to you, Joel.”

“Yeah? You’re mine? All fuckin’ mine?”

You could only nod your head in response.

Joel’s arm around you tightened. “Say it,” he demanded. “I need you to say it.”

“I’m yours, all fucking yours!”

His hand moved from your stomach and dove between your thighs, two of his fingers finding your clit as swollen and sensitive as it had ever been. His digits circled the bundle of nerves, causing your legs to tremble as you felt the beginning of an orgasm coiling tight in your lower belly.

“Oh fuck,” You breathed out in a moan. “Joel, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me baby,” he encouraged you huskily, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you to come all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

Finally, you managed to find your cries inside of you; they tore themselves from your throat where they had been lodged, echoing throughout the entire, empty bar as you came undone, your walls clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck baby,” Joel released a deep, guttural groan and shoved you back over the table, pinning you down on it with both his hands as he spilled inside of you.

He leaned over you, his body hovering over yours as the two of you took a minute to catch your breath. He gave one final gentle thrust, groaning again when he felt the way you fluttered around him. 

“Already wantin’ more sweetheart?” Joel planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before finally pulling out of you. He stepped back, pulling his jeans back up into place; he stopped for just a moment, noticing the way his cum dripped out of you and slowly trickled down the inside of your thighs. Resisting the primal urge to take you all over again, he zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt. He then realized you still hadn’t moved and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Baby I didn’t hurt you did I—”

“Shut up,” You told him, lazily waving a hand at him. “Don’t ruin it.”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle as he shook his head. “You really are somethin’ else, you know that?”

“Mhm, but that’s why you love me,” You reminded him, glancing over your shoulder at him with a tiny little smirk.

Joel leaned over, quickly feathering a trail of kisses down your spine before he started walking around the bar and picking up your clothes. He handed them to you along with his jacket and helped you clean yourself up with a clean rag from behind the bar. As you dressed, he disappeared behind the counter once more, returning just moments later with a glass of bourbon in one hand and another clean, damp cloth in the other. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing to a bar stool and you obeyed. You sipped on the hard liquor watching as he started wiping down the table. Discarding the cloth into a garbage bin, he began putting all the chairs up on the tables for you. Looking around, he asked, “What else do you need me to do?”

Setting the glass down, you stood up and shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll come in early tomorrow and finish up my tasks before the bar opens.” You smiled tiredly at him. “Let’s just go home, yeah?”

“Yeah, you need to get some rest—” Joel stopped, his dark eyes widening when he caught a glimpse of the marks that had already begun forming on your neck. “Shit,” he muttered as he hurried over to you. He moved the lapels of his jacket out of the way and touched them delicately. “You’re not gonna be able to hide these, baby.”

“It’s fine,” You grinned at him. “At least now, everyone will know who I belong to.”