#trying to shake off some dust I guess

[peachesofteal]

The wallflower.

Johnny clocks it immediately, your shoulders practically pinned against the pale-yellow wall, pint glass slick with condensation cradled between your fingers. Your eyes dart around and then away, finding something to study in the carpet, or the stairs, on the coffee table.

You’re not comfortable here, that much is clear.

He elbows Simon. “Poor girl looks nervous.” Simon gives you a furtive glance over the rim of his glasses, and nods.

“Probably only knows one person. Or got dragged here.” It’s Kyle’s wife’s birthday party. She has a lot of friends it seems, well liked in all facets of her life, work and otherwise. He clucks his tongue. “Sweet thing.” Someone bumps into you, and then pivots, reaching out to grab your arm in apology. You don’t tell him off or pull away. You just glance at his hand, meek smile stretching your lips sour. It turns Johnny’s stomach.

“She needs rescuing.”

“Johnny.” There’s a warning in Simon’s tone, a reproachful sentiment that he knows well. No strays. No projects. No more shelter pets.

“Ach c’mon. Look at her.” That one muscle in Simon’s cheek feathers, the one that says everything without Simon saying anything at all. Broken resolve.

He sighs. Johnny grins.

“Ye alright?” The man who’s taken up a residence at your shoulder is now speaking to you. Worse, he’s asking you if you’re alright.  

“I… I’m good. Yeah. Fine.” You grip your glass tighter, ignoring the flip of your stomach. You snuck at glance at him when he first came over, and that was enough. He’s very handsome.

And you’re, well-

You’re… you.

“Someone ditch ye?” Oh god.

“Uh, no. My friend is over there.” You point to Anna’s back. She’s in the kitchen, laughing so loud you can hear her from across the living room.

“Ah. She did ditch ye.”

“No!” You glare at him, “No.”

“But she didnae offer to introduce you to anyone?” You wince, and his eyes flicker with sympathy. “Ah, she did.”

“I’m not good with… people.” The understatement of the year. You don’t do people. People are too unpredictable, too much of an unknown. A pattern of behavior will only take you so far, and it’s hard to forecast their actions, reactions, words, emotions… everything.

You prefer safer bets. Predictable things. Equations, mostly.

“Ye’re not good w’people, but ye’re at a party.”

“Yes, it’s quite a feat.” You snap your mouth shut, expecting him to give you a weird look, but he laughs.

“If ye’re uncomfortable, why stay?”

“Because, social interactions are good for me. And I promised myself a slice of cheese pizza if I made it an hour.” He should laugh. Most would. Most would think it’s fucking hilarious, how you’re bribing yourself, dangling a carrot in front of your face.

But this guy doesn’t. He doesn’t laugh. He cocks his head, and frowns. “So… ye’re torturing yourself so ye can earn a slice of pizza.” A nervous giggle bubbles up and out your throat.

“It sounds bad when you put it that way but-“

“It is bad.” A deep voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you jump.

“This is Simon.” Your new… friend, Johnny, motions to the hulking man at your side, and you manage a nod, spitting out your name. “He’s no’ scary, just looks it.” Johnny reaches for his hand, and the equation clicks to together with ease.

Oh.

“You here with a friend?”

“Uh. Yep.” You point to Anna, again, and they exchange a look.

“She ditch ya?” Same question, different accent, and you’re about to give the same answer, when Johnny intercedes.

“She’s here so she can have a slice of pizza.” Yeah. It sounds bad.

“Wot?”

“I… It’s good for me to be around people so I said if I could do it for an hour, I could have pizza.” They’re both wearing expressions you can’t translate, two faces you don’t understand, and it twists you up.

“Do you usually ransom yourself pizza?”

“N-no.”

“Is it… an eating thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s like… I’d rather be at home, but everyone says socializing is… important. So, for doing something I hate, I get pizza.” Simon sighs.

“Trying to fit a square into a circle.” The comment is puzzling, but as you’re trying to put it together, Johnny links his pinky with yours and tugs you closer. The room is quiet, the music, the laughing, the chatter, all of it goes silent. There are dozens and dozens of people in here, but right now, it’s just you and these two. Staring at one another. There’s a web thin string spinning from him, to you, to Simon, and it’s wrapping you up, cocooning you, holding you tight.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye wannae go get that slice with us?” Do it. Just do it. Do something. You take a deep breath.

“Sure.”  

They look comical, shoved into the pleather red booth across the table from you, Simon far too wide to comfortably accommodate Johnny, but they don’t seem to mind. “So, cheese then?” You nod, picking at the faded corner of a menu. This was a bad idea, this was stupid. What were you thinking? Why-

“Three slices of cheese please.” You hadn’t even noticed the server, and you panic when she starts to turn away.

“And a coke!” You blurt, immediately embarrassed. She stares at you for a second before nodding, forcing a smile, and walking off. Fuck. You press your palm down on the table, trying to focus on the texture, the feel of it.

“Hey,” Simon says softly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You bristle.

“I know that.” Of course you know… don’t you?

Clearly not.

They don’t try to force you into conversation, but they do talk to you. They don’t ask you pointed questions or try to dig into you, instead choosing to tell you about themselves, their dog, their jobs. They keep you involved without dragging you in unwillingly.

It’s nice.

You’re halfway through your slice when you realize they’re watching you.

 “What? Is there something on my face?” You frantically wipe at your chin, your cheeks. Simon’s mouth quirks.

“Nothing on your face, sweet girl.” Your brain scrambles. Words fail. You don’t think anyone has ever called you something like that before.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good.” Stupid.

“Go on and finish up.” He instructs, pointing at the grease laden slice, and you bring it to your mouth obediently. “Want to come for a walk with us after this? Our favorite park is around the corner, and the moon is really bright tonight.” A walk. With them. A walk? What does that mean? Just like, a walk?

Do it. Just do it. Do something. Be brave.

You roll your shoulders, and take a bite of your pizza, chewing slowly and swallowing.

And then you nod.

“Yes.”

[beloveds-embrace]

(a lil stress-written drabble of princess reader x guard 141)

The grand halls of your father’s castle are silent today. There should have been a glorious, blessed wedding- your wedding. Instead, there is only hushed gossip and veiled glances as servants scurry about, pretending not to discuss the tragic and untimely passing of Lord Davenshire. The fourth such incident this year alone.

You sip your tea, watching the garden from your balcony, a pleasant smile gracing your lips and a complete contrast to the angry, fearful cloud that has been haunting your father lately. It’s a beautiful morning. Birds sing, the sun bathes the palace in golden warmth, and best of all, there is no unwanted husband at your side.

No, your dear father will have to try again. And again. And again and again and again.

Soft footsteps approach, too quiet for the untrained ear. But you know them. You don’t flinch as strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, a familiar scent of leather and spice enveloping you.

“Another one bites the dust.” Gaz murmurs, his voice low and amused against your ear.

You hum in response, setting your teacup down. “Oh dear, how unfortunate.”

Strong fingers trace along your forearm, and you turn your head just slightly to meet Gaz’s gaze. His eyes gleam with something wicked and delighted.

“Unfortunate indeed,” Price says as he steps onto the balcony, hands clasped behind his back. He looks every bit the disciplined captain he is, but there’s a certain satisfaction in his gaze as he surveys the castle grounds below. “The poor man was simply riding his horse when it suddenly reared and threw him.” He shakes his head, feigning solemnity. “Neck snapped like a twig.”

“How dreadful.” You croon, feeling Gaz’s smirk against your neck.

“Dreadful,” Soap echoes as he lounges on the railing, twirling a dagger between his fingers. “Cannae imagine why these men keep droppin’ like flies.”

“They must be terribly unlucky,” Gaz adds, leaning against the stone wall beside you, his smile sharp. “Or perhaps they should have considered who exactly they were trying to take from us.”

Your heart flutters at his words, at their words. Loyal, deadly, devoted- the four of them have been your constant shadows, your protectors, your everything.

Your father calls it misfortune. He believes some curse has befallen your suitors, that fate itself refuses to see you wed. And in a way, he is right. Just not in the way he thinks.

Because fate has intervened, but in the form of the most dangerous men in the kingdom. Men who would see the world burn before they allowed another to place a ring on your finger.

You turn in Ghost’s direction, reaching a hand out until he obediently places his chin in your delicate palm. He doesn’t take his mask off, but you can nonetheless feel his mouth against your skin. His eyes darken as he looks down at you, and you feel the weight of all of them- the unyielding devotion, their willingness to kill for you, to ensure that no one ever takes you from them, not now and not ever.

And you? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You smile, letting your fingers brush over Ghost’s jaw before turning to the others. “It seems I am doomed to remain unwed.” You sigh dramatically, though your grin betrays your amusement.

Price chuckles, stepping closer, his calloused fingers lifting your chin. “A tragedy, truly.”

“Aye,” Soap agrees with a shark smirk. “Guess that just means you’ll have to settle for us, lassie.”

Your heart swells, warmth pooling in your chest. Settle? No, this is exactly what you want.

You lace your fingers with Ghost’s, leaning into Price’s touch as you glance at the others. “Whatever shall I do with four such devoted guards, hm?”

Gaz smirks, his voice a teasing whisper as he brushes his lips against your temple, hands dipping low to hold your waist. The warmth you feel now has nothing to do with the lovely weather, anymore. “Oh, Princess, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

[skywalkerslvt]

Pierced-Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Pairing: loser!Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: After playing two truths and a lie with your best friend ellie, you reveal you have secret piercings. things ensue...

❥CW: smut, nipple play, reader has nipple piercings, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), tribbing, ellie is a bit of a nervous loser in the beginning, top ellie, reader is sorta a power bottom, 4.2k words

❥a/n: This was supposed to be a really short fic but i went crazy (horny) and wrote all of this lmfao. hope u enjoy! <3 pics are from pinterest

The basement was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a flickering lamp in the corner and the soft glow of the streetlights seeping through a small, grime-covered window. You could hear the muffled hum of the world outside, distant enough to feel like you were the only two people left in the world. The scent of old wood and dust filled the air, mixing with the sharp tang of alcohol from the half-empty bottle of whiskey resting between you and Ellie.

Ellie was leaning back against the basement couch, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy from the booze. You both were sprawled out on the floor, legs tangled as you reached for the bottle once again. Laughter bounced off the walls as Ellie threw her hands up in defeat.

“You're really bad at this game,” you teased, shifting a little closer to her. “But hey, maybe you'll catch me in a lie this time.”

Ellie cleared her throat, her nervous energy spilling over as she sat up straighter. “Oh, yeah, for sure. I got you this time,” she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck like she always did when she was flustered.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to make her squirm. “Alright, here goes. I've broken my arm twice, I can speak a bit of French, and… two years ago, I got nipple piercings that no one knows about.”

Ellie's face went bright red, her hand freezing halfway to the bottle. She blinked at you, then laughed nervously. “Wait, what?”

You leaned in slightly, watching her face closely as you spoke. “You heard me. Nipple piercings. Two years ago.” You let the words hang there, watching as Ellie shifted awkwardly, her gaze quickly darting to your chest before settling on your eyes.

“Th-that's gotta be the lie,” Ellie stammered, clearly flustered as she fidgeted with the label on the whiskey bottle. “Right? I mean, I…you wouldn't…would you?”

You gave her a sly smile, brushing your leg against hers just enough to get her attention. "Guess you'll have to figure that out, huh?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as she tried to come up with something witty in response, but all she managed was an awkward laugh. "I mean... y-you're messing with me, right?"

You leaned back, letting your gaze linger on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe I am," you said with a shrug. "Or maybe you just don't know me as well as you think you do."

Ellie looked like she was about to implode, her mind racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out if you were hitting on her or just playing the game. You could see it written all over her face—the nervousness, the uncertainty—and it only made you grin wider. She had no idea how into her you really were, and it was almost too fun watching her try to piece it together.

Ellie shifted nervously, clearly out of her element as her eyes flicked between you and the bottle, as if it might give her some kind of answer.

“Is that your final guess?” you asked, leaning in, your voice teasing as you watched her squirm.

Ellie swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Yeah… yeah, that’s my final guess. The piercings, they’ve got to be the lie,” she said, but there was hesitation in her voice, like she wasn’t quite convinced.

You smirked, biting back a laugh. “Wrong.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide, her face an even deeper shade of red. “What? No way. You’re messing with me.”

“Nope.” You shrugged, acting casual as you leaned back. “That was a truth.”

Ellie blinked, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “There’s no way. You’re just messing with me to screw me up. I don’t believe you.”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “You wanna check for yourself?”

Ellie’s eyes went impossibly wider, her throat bobbing as she swallowed nervously. “I—I… uh, what?” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked away, fidgeting with the bottle in her lap like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching her completely unravel. “Relax, I’m kidding,” you teased, though the glint in your eye said otherwise. “Unless… you really want to know.”

Ellie’s whole face burned, and you could practically hear her heartbeat from where you sat. She stammered, her words falling over themselves. “I—no, I mean—wait, are you actually…”

You bit your lip, amused by how lost she was. “Nah, I’ll just show you. Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over it.”

Before Ellie could stammer out another response, your shirt was over your head and thrown across the room. Her eyes were glued to your chest as you reached back to unclasp your lacy red bra.

Ellie's breath hitched as your bra fell to the floor, revealing the small silver barbells glinting under the flickering light. For a second, she just stared, her mouth slightly open, completely frozen in place. You could see her trying to form words, but nothing came out.

"Believe me now?" you asked, voice teasing as you leaned in, your chest close enough to brush against her arm.

Ellie blinked rapidly, her face bright red, looking like she might pass out from sheer embarrassment. "Holy shit," she muttered under her breath, finally managing to say something, though it sounded more like a dazed confession than an actual response.

You chuckled softly, leaning back just enough to give her some space but still close enough to keep her flustered. "Told you it was the truth."

Ellie's gaze flickered up to meet yours, her expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. "I—I mean... yeah, l believe you now." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, her usual nervous tic in full force as she fumbled to find the right words. "I just didn't expect you to actually... show me."

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on her. "Well, I'm not one to back down from a challenge," you said lightly, your voice still laced with that teasing edge.

Ellie let out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting away from you as she tried to regain some composure. "Yeah, uh... challenge. Right." She was flustered beyond belief, and it was almost too cute how lost she looked.

Ellie's eyes were still glued to your chest, her breath shallow and uneven. You could feel the tension between you both, thick and electric in the dimly lit basement. The way she looked at you, completely entranced, sent a thrill through you.

"You can touch them if you want," you said softly, the invitation hanging in the air between you.

Ellie's head jerked up, her eyes wide and unsure. "I-uh, what?" She stammered, clearly caught off guard by your offer.

You smirked, brushing her knee gently with yours. "You heard me."

Ellie swallowed hard, her face burning even brighter. "Does it... does it hurt?"

You shook your head slightly, your voice dropping lower. "It hurt when I first got them, but now..." You leaned in, letting the words roll off your tongue, "...now it just feels good."

Ellie's eyes flickered back to your chest, her hand twitching like she was debating with herself. She hesitated, nervous, her fingers hovering near her lap as if she wasn't sure what to do. You could see the uncertainty in her, but also the undeniable pull.

Sensing her apprehension, you crawled closer to her, swinging your leg over one of her thighs so you could straddle it. "It's okay," you whispered, reassuring her. "I don't bite... unless you want me to."

That seemed to snap something in Ellie. She gave a shaky laugh, her hand finally reaching out, her fingers brushing tentatively over your skin. Her touch was featherlight at first, careful, like she wasn't sure if this was real or not.

"See? Doesn't hurt," you murmured, your voice soothing, though your heart was racing with excitement.

Ellie's fingers, still a little shaky, began to trace the outline of your piercings, her touch growing bolder as she got used to the sensation. You watched her face, the mixture of fascination and nervousness playing across her features. Her thumb brushed against one of the barbells, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

Ellie's eyes flickered up to meet yours, her breath catching at the sound. "Did I–was that okay?" she asked, her voice low and breathless, like she couldn't believe what was happening.

You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. "Yeah, Ellie. That feels good."

Hearing that seemed to give her a little more confidence. She exhaled slowly, her fingers moving with more purpose now, gently rolling one of the piercings between her thumb and forefinger. The sensation sent a spark of pleasure through you, your body reacting to her touch in ways you knew she couldn't miss.

Her other hand hesitantly joined in, tracing the other barbell, her eyes locked on yours as if she was watching your every reaction, unsure but so eager to please. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, the warmth of her hands sending waves of heat through your body.

"Does this...feel good?" Ellie's voice was a low rasp, her own face flushed, eyes wide with anticipation.

"It feels really good," you whispered, your voice heavy with the tension between you. You arched your back slightly, pressing into her touch as her hands grew more confident, playing with your piercings in a way that had your breath hitching.

Ellie swallowed hard, her gaze dipping to your chest again as her hands continued to explore, experimenting with different pressures, watching your reactions closely. Her nervous energy was still there, but there was something more-something hungry in the way her touch lingered now, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

You could feel her pulse racing, her breath hot and shallow as her fingers tugged gently at the piercings, testing the waters. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, your skin alive under her hands. You leaned in, lips brushing her ear as you whispered, "You're doing so good, Ellie."

Her breath hitched at your words, and she stifled a groan as her hands moved more boldly now, her fingers teasing and pulling in a way that had your body arching toward her, craving more of her touch.

The air between you was electric, the playful teasing long forgotten, replaced by something far more intense. Ellie's lips parted, her breath coming in ragged bursts as she leaned in closer, her body pressed against yours, her hands still playing with your piercings like she couldn't get enough.

Ellie's hands were still moving over your chest, her touch growing more assured with each passing second, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She swallowed, clearly trying to steady herself before she spoke again. Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with uncertainty and need. "Can I... can I try with... my mouth?"

You felt a surge of heat wash over you at her request, her shy stammer only adding to the electric charge between you. "Yeah," you breathed, your voice soft but encouraging as you straddled her thigh, the fabric of her jeans pressing between your legs as you ground down slightly. "Go ahead, Ellie."

Her gaze flickered up to yours, a mixture of nerves and excitement, before she leaned in. Her lips hovered just above your skin for a moment, as if she was gathering the courage, and then you felt the soft brush of her mouth against your nipple. Her tongue flicked out, gently grazing the piercing, and the sensation made your breath hitch.

Ellie's hands settled on your hips, steadying herself–and you–as she grew more confident. Her mouth closed over the sensitive skin, her lips soft but eager as she took one of the piercings into her mouth, tugging gently with her teeth. You couldn't stop the moan that slipped out, your hands instinctively burying themselves in her hair, holding her closer as the pleasure intensified.

At the same time, your hips moved against her thigh, the friction of her jeans sending jolts of pleasure through you with every slow grind. Ellie groaned against your chest, clearly feeling the pressure of your body against her leg, her mouth working more fervently now, her tongue swirling around the piercing before she tugged again, harder this time.

You gasped, your fingers tightening in her hair, your hips pressing down harder on her thigh. "Ellie.." you whispered, your breath coming in shallow pants as the sensations built inside you, a delicious mix of her mouth on your chest and the steady pressure between your legs.

Ellie pulled back for just a second, her lips slick and flushed as she looked up at you. Her eyes were dark with lust, her breath ragged. "Is this... is this good?" she asked, her voice low and strained, like she was trying to hold herself together.

You bit your lip, your head tilting back as another wave of pleasure washed over you. "So good," you murmured, grinding down on her harder, urging her to keep going. "Don't stop."

With a renewed sense of determination, Ellie dove back in, her mouth working over your chest with more confidence, her hands gripping your hips tighter as you rocked against her. Each pull of her lips sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, mixing with the rhythmic grind of your hips on her thigh. The heat between you was overwhelming, every touch and movement amplifying the tension until it felt like you might explode.

With a sudden surge of confidence, Ellie gripped your hips and gently pushed you back, guiding you to the floor beneath her. You gasped in surprise but quickly surrendered to her touch, your heart racing as you felt the cool floor against your skin.

Her hands moved with purpose, brushing up your thighs as she shifted to hover over you. The flickering lamp cast shadows over her flushed face, illuminating the desire in her eyes. "You okay?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping back into her voice, but it was mixed with a hunger that made your stomach flutter.

"Yeah, Ellie. Just... keep going," you encouraged, feeling a thrill rush through you as her fingers slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, inching higher.

She hesitated for just a moment, her fingers brushing against your skin, and then she boldly lifted your skirt, exposing your thighs. The rush of cool air made you shiver as her fingertips danced closer to where you needed her most.

Ellie hesitated for just a moment before her determination surged back. With a swift motion, she shifted to kneel between your legs, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin, as she pushed your panties to the side and used her fingers to part you slightly, allowing her to find that sweet spot.

"Can I... try something?" she asked, looking up at you with a mix of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Yeah, please," you urged, your voice barely above a whisper, the heat pooling in your core.

With a teasing smile, Ellie brought her mouth back to your piercing, her tongue swirling around the metal as she simultaneously slid two fingers into you, pushing deeper as she began to stroke your sensitive spot. A gasp escaped your lips, the combination of sensations causing your body to arch instinctively toward her.

"Ellie!" you cried out, the heat of her mouth and the skillful movements of her fingers driving you wild. She watched you closely, her own excitement evident as she felt you tighten around her.

"Just relax," she murmured, her voice vibrating against you as she continued her exploration, her fingers working in and out while her mouth kept teasing your piercings. You could hardly keep still, your hips moving in rhythm with her fingers as waves of pleasure washed over you.

As Ellie continued to work her magic, she shifted her focus, her fingers moving more deliberately to target your clit while her mouth lavished attention on your piercings. The combination of sensations sent shockwaves through your body, making you writhe beneath her.

"Ellie, that feels so good," you gasped, lost in the bliss of her touch.

With every flick of her tongue and stroke of her fingers, the tension inside you built higher, the sweet pressure almost unbearable. "Just let go," Ellie encouraged, her voice low and sultry, her determination evident as she worked tirelessly to bring you to the edge.

And then, with a final flick of her fingers, you shattered, your body arching off the ground as pleasure washed over you in waves. "Ellie!" you cried out, your voice a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief at how incredible it felt.

Ellie didn't waste a second; she licked her fingers clean, a devilish grin spreading across her face. "Fuck, you taste so good baby," she said, her eyes dark with hunger. "I need more."

Before you could respond, she began kissing her way down your body, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin until she reached your thighs. She quickly removed your skirt and panties, leaving your slick cunt bare before her. Her fingers gripped your hips as she pulled you closer, her breath warm against you as she settled between your legs.

With expert precision, Ellie took her time, her tongue swirling around your clit, teasing and sucking in just the right way. Each movement sent shivers down your spine, your body instinctively responding to her every touch. "Ellie, yes!" you gasped, the sensations quickly building again.

She worked you closer to another peak, her eyes locked on yours, filled with both mischief and desire. You could feel the pressure mounting, a familiar tightening in your core as she expertly brought you to the edge once more.

With one final flick of her tongue, you let go again, your body trembling and shuddering beneath her as another orgasm washed over you. "God, Ellie!" you cried, the intensity leaving you breathless.

Ellie pulled back, wiping her mouth and grinning widely. "You really know how to make a girl happy," she teased, but you could see the need in her eyes, an unspoken desire lingering between you.

"Please," you breathed, your voice a husky whisper, "let me get you off." You could feel the heat pooling in your core again as the idea electrified you.

She looked at you, surprise flickering across her face before it shifted to a playful smirk. "You sure?" she asked, her voice low, excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Absolutely," you replied, determination flooding your veins.

With a swift motion, you shifted positions, settling yourself beside her.

You locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between you as you straddled her thigh, your fingers dancing down her body.

You guided her to open her legs wider, your body buzzing with anticipation. As you began to grind against her, the friction of your bodies sent waves of pleasure radiating between you. "Just like that," Ellie encouraged, her breath hitching as you pressed down against her.

Your movements grew bolder, your hands exploring the curves of her body as you brought your lips to hers, kissing her hungrily. You could feel the heat rising between you, the thrill of the moment igniting every nerve.

"Fuck, you're riding me so good, baby," Ellie rasped, her voice raw with need as her hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements. You ground down against her, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable as your slickness coated her, making each slide of your hips easier, smoother, and more desperate.

The wetness between your thighs mixed with hers, the sensation of your clits brushing together sending shivers through your entire body. Each movement was electric, your hips finding a perfect rhythm as you ground down harder, the friction driving you both wild.

Ellie's hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your skin before she cupped your breasts. Her thumbs brushed over your nipple piercings again, flicking them just right, making you gasp. "You like that?" she murmured, her voice thick with desire as she tugged gently on the metal, your nipples hardening under her touch.

Your body trembled as you pressed your chest further into her hands, the pleasure shooting through you with every little tug and pinch. Meanwhile, your hips rocked faster, sliding your wetness against hers in perfect rhythm.

The slick sounds of your bodies moving together filled the air, each grind pushing you closer to the edge.

Ellie's hips began bucking up to meet yours, desperate and needy as your clits rubbed together again, sending sparks of pleasure racing through you.

"Fuck, Ellie," you moaned, grinding harder as the pressure between your legs built to an overwhelming peak. You could feel her trembling beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps, matching your own.

Your wetness coated her thigh, smearing across both of your bodies as you moved together, the friction just right. Every grind of your hips made your clits brush against each other, the pleasure intensifying with each slick, desperate slide. Ellie groaned beneath you, her hands moving back down to grip your waist, pulling you harder against her.

You could feel her arousal mixing with yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. "God, you feel so fucking good," Ellie groaned, her voice thick with lust as she bucked her hips up to meet yours, the slickness between you making each grind smoother, more desperate.

The tension in your core was building quickly, winding tighter and tighter with every movement. Ellie's fingers dug into your hips, guiding you as you rocked against her, the pressure of your clits rubbing together sending you hurtling toward the edge.

Your body trembled as you leaned forward, bracing yourself on her chest.

Ellie took the opportunity to reach up, tugging at your nipple piercings again, sending sharp pleasure shooting through your body. "I love watching you ride me," she rasped, her voice breathless as she pinched your nipples harder, making you gasp.

The combined sensation of her rough hands on your chest and the relentless friction between your legs was too much. Your hips bucked wildly, grinding down against her as your orgasm slammed into you. "Fuck, Ellie," you cried out, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed through you, your slickness dripping down her thigh as you came.

Ellie groaned, her own body trembling as she watched you fall apart above her, your hips still moving, slower now, but still grinding against her, drawing out every last bit of your release.

As you came down from your high, Ellie's hands moved to your waist again, guiding your hips back into a steady rhythm. You could feel her need, the way her body trembled beneath yours, the slickness between you making it impossible to stop.

You leaned forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss as your hips started moving again, faster this time, the friction of your clits rubbing together driving both of you wild. "You're so wet," you whispered against her mouth, your breath ragged as you rocked your hips down harder, desperate to feel her come undone beneath you.

Ellie groaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your waist even tighter as she bucked her hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you feel so good," she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure became too much to bear. "Keep going, baby, don't stop."

Your bodies moved together, faster and faster, the slick sound of your wetness mixing with hers filling the room. Every grind of your hips made your clits brush against each other, sending sparks of pleasure through you both. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable, the need to push her over the edge driving you harder, faster.

Ellie's breath hitched, her body tensing beneath yours as her orgasm built. "I'm so close," she groaned, her voice shaky as her hips bucked up wildly. You could feel her trembling, her body on the verge of release, and you ground down harder, determined to push her over the edge.

With one final grind, Ellie's body tensed, her back arching as she came with a shuddering moan. Her hands gripped your hips so hard it almost hurt, pulling you down against her as her orgasm washed over her, her body trembling beneath yours.

You slowed your movements, rocking gently against her as she came down from her high, her breath ragged and uneven. You pressed your forehead against hers, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat and arousal as the last waves of pleasure faded away.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing. Then Ellie let out a breathless laugh, pulling you down into a soft, lazy kiss. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice still thick with pleasure. "That was incredible." You smiled against her lips, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all.

"You're pretty incredible yourself," you teased, pressing one last kiss to her lips before collapsing onto the floor beside her, completely spent.

[kamospeach]

plot: gym crushes are no fun if they don't look your way

content warning: it's toji... so, also gym themed ish, tiny bit of angst

dean's (aka peachy) yap: i always dread writing about toji, but he's so hawt😔. sorry for the constant angst it helps the smut be better

if working out were easy, you wouldn't lose any weight. at least that's what you told yourself. it'd been months, maybe even years, since you stepped foot in a gym. but you told yourself today you would learn how to work out for real, for real.

i mean, the positive self-talk was going well on the treadmill. but once you got on the stair master, all that went to ashes and dust. your calves were burning, and your thighs were trembling. there were a lot of hot buff men around (irrelevant but still important to point out), and they were lifting weights like it was nothing. you couldn't lie that they were making you just a tad insecure.

you got off the stairmaster, leaving that for another day, and heading over to the weights. setting down your stuff, you pulled out your phone, looking at the video of the girl lifting. you watched her formation and how she did it, finding it to be pretty easy.

you sigh, changing the weights on the rack, even that was heavy for you. ‘it wouldn’t be as embarrassing if it weren't the school’s gym,’  you thought to yourself, preparing to squat.

“okay, so she...” you mumbled, starting the squat as your thighs began to shake. “fuck!” you exclaimed before the weight was taken off your shoulders. you let out a breath of relief, standing up straight. when you whipped around, a man stood above you. 

you immediately noticed him, i mean, who wouldn’t? toji is the star hockey player of the university, who was known for flirting with any girl who crossed his path. now that you've thought about it, this would become cliche very fast. you could guess what he was about to say, ‘wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, pretty girl’ or something along those lines.

“y’shouldn’t lift if you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, looking down at you. you scoffed at the audacity of this man! who says you don’t know what you’re doing? what if you just slipped up a little there?

“who's to say i don’t know what im doing?” you said sassily, watching a smirk spread across his scarred lips. you didn’t know if he was smirking because he was about to rip you to shreds or because he was trying to flirt with you too.

“you clearly didn’t know what you were doing, doll, if you did, you would've had yer feet further apart. may i?” he asked, and you were confused about what he was asking, but you agreed. he lightly tapped your thigh, signaling you to spread them further. “also, keep your feet pointed straight. you were asking for your knees to go out.”

“well, i watched a video and just followed the instructions!” you told him, and he laughed at you. yes. laughed at you thinking that watching a simple video would give you the magic ability to squat correctly.

“that’s cute… what video did you watch?” he asked, peering over your shoulder as you showed him the video. it was so clear that he was trying not to laugh by how his breathing changed. you looked up at him to see his hand over his mouth, and now it was blatantly obvious he wanted to laugh at you. “you tried to learn how to squat by watching some girl’s day in the life video.”

“i mean her knees didn’t give out!” you exclaimed, and this time he full-on laughed at you. there was no way you were serious… oh, you were.

“yeah, because it’s fake,” he patted your shoulder, and you frowned up at the freakishly buff man. and fake, what did he mean by fake? how do you ‘fake’ that? 

“what? how do you even fake that?” you frowned up, not believing what he was saying. but the way he effortlessly lifted the weight off your shoulders, you trusted his instruction. 

“whatever. let’s start with a regular squat to make sure you won’t almost kill yourself again.” so that’s what you did, you did a squat without the bar, and toji nodded. it was embarrassing, he just stood there with his hand on his chin. “just put your feet a little more than shoulder width. you still have them too close. also, make sure you're not too stiff or too loose…” after that, you zoned out. 

you’re pretty sure you heard him saying you were doing well. at least you did get a good workout in, but your legs were sore. you were walking funny the whole next day. your friends swore up and down you met with a sneaky link or something. 

nope! just got grilled by toji, that’s all. 

“you’re positive you didn’t go see that man?” your friend asked with a squinted eye and you were seriously confused. “ya knowww the one guy from the party?”

“girl ony? hell no, i gave up on that a long time ago.” you waved her off as you walked into the cafeteria. everyone was gathered around looking at something. and of course, your nosey friends just had to go over there and see.

“y/n! look, it was who i was telling you about.” you took your sweet time walking over to where she stood, not interested in whatever they were talking about. “it’s toji, remember i was telling you about how he helped me change my tire.” 

at the mention of his name, you perked up. you pulled your head out of your phone, getting interested in what the conversation was actually about. you didn’t like toji or anything. he just so happened to be conveniently attractive and just followed you on instagram yesterday. 

“seems like he helps any woman in need,” you mumbled to yourself as your friend showed you the video. it was a live video of a hockey game, which you assumed toji was playing in. 5 seconds into the video, someone pushed toji. “he’s pissed.” you laughed seeing his red face and lifeless looking eyes.

he pushed the guy back, and they got to fighting. it would've been a quick fight had it not been hockey, so now toji and the man fought for a full 15 seconds before the ref tried to break it up. but the ref got roped in, and toji started fighting everyone. two refs, four players from the opposing team, and two extra officials. it took practically the whole team to pull him off the first guy.

you had to admit that seeing him fight made you want to go to the gym. in hopes that you’d see him and be able to tease him about his anger. so you made it a point to stalk his instagram to see when he was back (totally not creepy). 

the day he posted about being back in town, you went to the gym. did the treadmill and even did the stair master without almost dying. but you did scan the gym, noticing toji’s tall stature the moment you walked in. 

once it was time to lift, you shyly walked to the weights. today, you decided to do hip thrust, which is not embarrassing since you haven't done this before either. but boy oh boy, didn’t you get lucky because the person you were waiting for approached you today.

“back at it again, hopefully not with another video,” he laughed, and you shook your head proudly, standing up. “no? what did you watch today?” he asked with a smirk, looking down at you.

“well, i watched a video, but it was a personal trainer. and it’s always easier if someone shows me in person,” you bat your lashes, looking up at the strong man who has his arms crossed. he gave you a look that you couldn’t read, but it looked like he wanted to laugh.

“you askin’ me t’show you how to do it, doll?” he asked, and you nodded with a full-on smile, he sighed. “so what are you doing?” 

“hip thrust,” you tell him, and he hummed with a nod. he helped you fix the bar and move everything around. you didn’t even have to lift a finger. the big, strong man did all the heavy lifting until it was time for him to demonstrate for you. he placed the bar on his lap, showing you how to do the hip thrust. “do this often?” you asked, enjoying the view of his strong body thrusting into the air.

“yeah, often,” he snorted, getting from under the bar, nodding at it. “your turn,” he says, and you mirror his actions, starting the hip thrust. toji was shamelessly staring at you, not caring who saw his growing tent. but when you finished your rep, he quickly adjusted himself as you turned around.

“wasn’t too bad,” you say, legs a little shaky, and toji hummed.

“do that often?” he asked, repeating your early statement, and you nod with a smirk. “never going to do arms?” 

“i did em yesterday, you just weren’t here to teach me,” you say, leading into your teasing. “too busy fighting on ice or whatever…” you said, giving him a small glance as you went back to doing your second rep.

“so you watched my game?” he asked, and you scoffed.

“no, i was…hah... forced to see you… fight the whole damn stadium,” you said out of breath from the workout you were doing. 

“if he wouldn’t have talked so much shit i wouldn’t have had to beat his ass,” he explained sounding like he was getting mad all over again. all you did was laugh as you finished the set. toji decided to use the equipment next to you. but it got hard to focus with a sweaty ripped toji doing deadlifts next to you. 

as time went on, you and toji ended up working out together. having casual conversations about hockey and your everyday hobbies. he actually wasn’t a bad person, and he was funny, crude, but funny. even the dirty jokes landed, which surprised you since you weren’t a big fan of them.

he made working out fun, he even showed you his workout playlist. you immediately told him his music taste was horrible, and he was offended. you showed him yours, and he told you it was horrible. it didn’t hurt your feelings, considering toji didn’t know any of the people or songs in yours.

“you’ll be back tomorrow, won’t you?” toji asked, leaning against the roof of your car as you started it up.

“yeah, i’ll be back, why?” 

“wanna see ya? is that a problem?” he asked you with a smirk, and you laughed at that statement. him? want to see you? 

“yeah sure, toji, see you tomorrow,” you said as he watched you drive off. but all good things come to an end, like your weird friendship/physical trainer/ flirtationship you had. because when you went into the gym, there was toji teaching another girl how to lift. why were you a little jealous? your chest kind of burned a little bit, like you just got cheated or something.

but you went ahead and did your workout, not bothering to watch the two of them work out. you kept your headphones on, going about your routine. you worked out your arms, which was an exercise toji wasn’t there to teach you. so you did what you had to, not worried about hearing toji laugh with that girl and grab her waist to teach her just like he did you.

“oh, y/n, you’re here!” he said, and you hummed, taking one side of the headphones off, continuing your workout. he came over to where you were, not ashamed that the other girl was watching the two of you. “sorry, i couldn’t help you today, doll.”

“it’s no problem, you had more important business to attend to,” you said, putting your headphones back on, finishing your workout. toji was a little dense, he thought you were saying it in a nice way and not a you just pissed me off way.

“i promise to help you tomorrow,” he says with a smile, going over to help the girl.

“sure,” was all you could say to the small turn of events that unfolded before you today.

to be continued...

one two three four five six

university masterlist

taglist (open):

@grignardsreagent @stardollwrites @keraawrites @soldmysoulto @k-a-m232 @ac27dj @buttershea07 @charminstasia @satorupied @ane5e @miksolosss @gurllss @vamppirez

[deadsetobsessions]

“Did you know that shrimps…”

Tim leaned in, poorly hidden eagerness splayed across his face. A clue that Danny and Phantom were dating?

“Are super delicious?” Danny mumbled, ducking his head to hide his impish grin. Tim exhaled, disappointed, and leaned back to observe. Danny currently had his arm elbow deep in Jason’s chest, the older man grimacing at the weird feeling of being phased through.

“You done?”

“Almost. This is a multiple session kind of thing though, since the corrupted ectoplasm's not only in your body, it's actively trying to fuse with your DNA. Like, a really fucked up virus with virtually no cure."

"No cure?!" Dick's panic was only barely suppressed. "But I thought you said you could help with that?"

"Yeah, I mean, how do you cure death? Everything has to end eventually." Danny said practically, before drawing a bit more tainted ectoplasm out. He stealthily replaced it with a cleaner source, a shot of ecto-dejecto he had absorbed as Phantom but didn't assimilate. "But don't worry, you're not dying again yet. You'll just become even more liminal."

"More?"

"Yeah. You were, by definition, a liminal. Now you'll just have more access to the traits- more in tune with your emotions, night vision, and a minor ability to manipulate ecto."

"I'm sorry, can we circle back on the fact that pit water is trying to fuse with my DNA?" Jason stressed. Danny took his hand out, treatment complete, and dusted them off.

"You don't have to worry about that either, since you've got a magic immune system in the form of... swords?" Danny’s brows furrowed, his senses making sense of the shape of magic.

"The All-Blades are cutting off pit water access." Jason sounded done. Exasperated at where he was in life... but really not all too surprised.

"...Sure?" Danny shrugged. The halfa has seen weirder shit than magic swords.

"Wait, you have magic?!" Dick reached over to grasp Jason's shoulder to shake him. Jason knocked his hands off, scowl becoming more prominent.

"Yeah, picked it up a while ago."

"And you didn't tell us?!"

In lieu of an answer, Jason summoned the All Blades and stabbed Dick, who yelped before realizing they just phased through him.

"Oh, you should use those more. They're purifying the ecto at a smaller quantity, but some is still better than none, right?" Danny said, pleasantly surprised. He ignored Dick’s outraged spluttering. “How interesting.”

Tim gathered his open jaw just to cheekily ask, "So, Jason's a magical girl? Usagi?"

Jason raised the one of the blades threateningly at Tim, who remained unfazed after watching them slide through Dick’s shoulder without leaving a trace of damage.

Danny laughed, "Hah! Nah, more like Madoka? If those are All-Blades, he’s supposed to kill evil with them…”

"Fuck off." Jason grumbled. Dick poked at the sword going through his shoulder in fascination. "Stop that."

"My baby brother is magical and he didn't tell meeeeeee!" Wailed Dick, flopping over Jason’s back like dead weight, hand clutched to his imaginary pearls as he swooned. Jason groaned, dismissing the blades to shove Dick off of him.

"Oh my god, this is why."

“Wait, have you tried stabbing Joker with them? If anyone’s pure evil, it’ll be that guy, right? No, but you’re a civilian… so you might get hurt,” Danny mumbled, huffing a grin as Jason gained a thoughtful look. Guess Danny knows what Red Hood’s gonna try next.

Tim ignored his dumbass brothers, finally done with the subtle tactics. Plus, he has to cut Danny off before he gives Jason any more bright ideas.

“You know, there’s been a rumor going around,” he started, only to get cut off by team Phantom’s impeccable timing. Danny’s open laptop rang with the blaring tones of a group call. The two idiots in the back stopped squabbling with each other, quieting down with interest.

“Oops, gimme a second.” Danny hurried to click the join call button, connecting to the video call. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe!” Tucker said brightly. In the background, Tucker could see Jason mouthing “babe?” to Tim, who shrugged. Dick’s face flashed into something intense before slipping back to its normal harmless facade.

“Sup, loverboy?” Sam chimed in, looking smug. “How’s my favorite boyfriend doing?”

Danny, leader of the gaslight gatekeep girlboss brainwave, naturally slipped into the banter. “Are you saying that ‘cause Tucker ate beef jerky in front of you?”

“Worse. He snuck a tourist t-shirt into my closet. My parents had a fit when they came to visit.”

“I said I was sorry, babe!” Tucker continued, looking actually regretful. Ah, this was something he actually did, as a prank.

“Whatever. Who’s the peanut gallery behind you, loverboy?” Sam buffed her nails, clearly in the middle of reapplying her signature nail polish.

Danny grinned. “Aweeee, is that the color shifting polish I got you? So you do love me!”

“We’re dating.”

If they hadn’t gotten the hint now, Danny would have to rescind their whole world’s best detectives titles.

“That’s our Sam, Danny. Prickly like a hedgehog but allll squishy on the inside.” Tucker snickered. “Seriously though, introduce us.”

Danny backed away from the camera. “This is Jason, Tim, and Dick. Guys, meet my wonderful boyfriend and girlfriend, Tucker and Sam.”

“Hi,” the three vigilantes chorused, looking awkward. Dick broke out of the atmosphere pretty quickly, used to controlling the mood.

“I’m Dick!”

“I’m sure,” drawled Sam. “Nice to meet you, even if we’ve met before.”

“You have?” Tucker and Danny asked.

“Yeah, at the galas. I doubt you’ll remember me.” Sam grimaced. “I was the miserable one in the pink frills.”

“Sam Mason?” Tim asked.

“Yep.”

The boys winced. “Rough.” Jason sympathized.

“Oh, yeah. Danny, how goes wooing Phantom?” Sam asked loudly, looking like she'd rather be discussing anything but the frilled monstrosity that haunted her nightmares.

“Oh, good! I think he’s warming up to me!”

“Ugh, babe, you fabulous fuck, why are you so charming? Why Phantom?” Tucker complained. Danny grinned.

“Come on, nerd, even you have to admit he’s hot.” Sam drawled, looking entertained.

“And majorly cool,” Danny chimed in, with a grin. Wow, Sam must really want Dr. Isley’s number. That, or she’s having a blast fucking with the peanut gallery. Their eyes were bouncing back and forth between Danny and the screen like they were at a tennis match. Or both. It's probably both.

“It’s so not cool to date one of my exes.” Tucker whined. “Plus, you know what he’s like.”

“What’s he like?” Dick asked, leaning in.

“Yeah, Danny won’t tell us anything,” Tim followed up seamlessly.

“Phantom? Hot. So. Hot. Super romantic too.”

"And an emotional mess. You'd never believe what-"

"Okay, seriously, it was one time!" He broke Tucker's system once, and he never let it go. Danny never got a break around here.

"Wait, if you liked him so much, why'd you break up with him?" Jason asked Sam. In Danny's peripherals, he could see Dick updating a group chat. It was going, as they say, swimmingly.

"Obviously I liked Danny more. But having all of them isn't too bad of an idea." Sam leaned back, looking as powerful as she normally does.

"But did it have to be Phantom?" Tucker sulked impressively. Then his eyes finally wandered to Tim. "Oh my god, Tim Drake. Danny, why don't you woo him?! Hey, Mr. Drake, are you interested in dating Danny? He brings terrible puns, smoking looks, and makes killer dinners. All you have to do in exchange is let me pick your brains."

Damn it, Danny knew Tucker was going to pull something like this.

"Uh-huh?" Tim flushed as his brothers cackled at his expense. "Sure..? Wait, what- I mean-"

"Sorry, Timsy. You're gonna have to fight Phantom for my hand. Considering you have no combat experience and Phantom's undead... rough, man."

"Danny, if you don't date him, I will," Tucker solemnly swore.

"Hey, get your grubby paws away from my little brother!" Dick tried to sternly warn them, effect broken by his own intermittent giggles.

"Yeah, you want to date him, you gotta go through the gauntlet." Jason said, muffling Tim's flustered protests with an arm.

"Challenge accepted." Danny paused. "Wait, did I just sign up to be Tim's boyfriend? Shit, Phantom's gonna kill me."

——

Danny texted a series of numbers to Sam. She left him on read.

Ah, maybe he shouldn't have introduced a budding ecoterrorist to a veteran one, but too late now!

——

If you notice any inconsistencies, no u don’t.

It’s been a while since I’ve written for this series though so… yk. Danny, verbally sealing himself into the trap while being chaotic. In character, me thinks.

[invincibledc]

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𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋

🃏

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄🃏

~

˚　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★synopsis: when a simple medieval jester shows up to Gotham, stirring the curious minds of certain boys of a bat colony. What could ever go on with this child’s life.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★genre: oneshot special

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★note: thanks for 3K followers!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ word count: 1,296

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★info: Taking after the inspiration of joker and Harley Quinn, aesthetic wise. They loathe that man even after the inspiration. They always loved circuses, watching the old flying graysons clips their families use to record. Their age and genders are unknown despite their small frame which makes them confused a child. People think they work joker, forcing Batman to put them on his charts. They can never caught due to always being sneaky and playful. Someone who is some random person that helps crimes and wear a medieval jest costume that is either monochrome for night stealths but is bright and happy colors for random day shenanigans. The jester, who people can’t tell if they’re a girl, or a boy. They seem genderless, they also seem skinny as well with how the sleeves of their so called costume is loose, covering their hand.

The small child, their thin body covered by the baggy medieval jester clothing. They looked around the dark city with wide and curious eyes. Walking around, the small child couldn’t help but look through alleys, ignoring the strange looks of the people in boxes and the folks giving them dirty looks.

The jester moves past a fallen man, maybe the man was just tired. The clown child looks around to see a small cardboard box. Going towards it, the child places it over the man. Walking off with more confidence in their step. “Hey kid!” a man bellowed, catching the small child’s attention, they've been picked up like a scrawny cat.

“Who do you think you are walking around this alley in that tacky colors of yours.” the man gruffed, shaking the mute child who just stared at the man with wide undisturbed eyes.

Not getting an answer, the man got angry, throwing the child. Usually, a person would expect the child to just fall harshly, but this wasn't a normal kid. The jester had landed on their feet gracefully as if defying gravity.

The child dusted themself off, keeping eyes on the big angry man. The jester moves back from the big man who pulled out a butterfly knife, not wasting time, the jester then moves forward.

The jingles of the bells on their hat and shoes jangled loudly. The small clown child jumped into the air, midway they did a triple spin kick. The man was hit on his face and the back of his head, knocking him out.

The child could only hum, taking the butterfly knife from the man and politely placing it onto the man’s chest before bouncing from the brick walls of the tight space.

The small child flipped themselves onto a fire escape before climbing onto another brick wall of a complex apartment. Climbing their way to the roof, they met Red Hood who just stared at them with two batburgers.

The juicy smell of the burger made the thin child’s stomach growl.

“You’re starving aren't you kid? I ain't here to harm you, only to get to know you.” those seem to be working as the small child with a painted face, a painted mask to hide their past forward towards the red hooded male.

But as if sensing something, the child did a spinning roundhouse kick towards a male with a fringe. “Wow! Fast reflexes!” Red Robin tries to capture the child who only stares at him and then looks back at Red Hood who sighs, knowing how this may go. The child stays still, that was before the child ran off the roof. The two male’s eyes widen.

“Kid no!” “Omg!?”

The two red vigilantes look over the roof to see nobody, no child, no jester. Completely gone.

“Dang… guess we have to try another night,” Tim says to Jason who nodded. As much as he wanted to, his older brother's instincts were taking over.

Their small frame irks him.

☆

Huddled in a cardboard box, the small child smelled of sweet cotton candy, reminiscent of treats from a bustling circus. But at this moment, they were just a lonely figure, aching for warmth and belonging. Denied entry anywhere, the child was mistaken for a goon of the Joker—certainly a mislabeling, but one that weighed heavy on their small shoulders.

Clenching their tiny fist, determination ignited within them. Despite their appearance, they felt an unwavering drive to help others. Emerging from the confines of the box, a small smile crept onto their painted lips, signaling the start of a journey to reclaim a piece of Gotham City.

Their first mission? Defend the local bakery. With a fierce resolve, they startled the shop owner, earning themselves some fresh bread and a handful of delectable cupcakes. The baker, initially stern, soon softened, watching the child devour the treats with wide eyes. As crumbs coated the child’s face like powdered sugar, the baker’s heart ached with a mix of pity and tenderness.

"Sweetie, slow down before you choke, okay?" she urged, her voice tinged with concern. The child nodded, ignoring the messy mouthful of crumbled icing. But when the baker reached out, accidentally swiping away some of the child’s carefully applied makeup, panic surged through the tiny form. Memories of shattered dishes flashed in their mind, and a soft whimper escaped their lips as fear took hold.

“Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?!” The baker knelt, startled by the child's distress. Without knowing what else to do, she rushed to the back, returning with a puff of white powder, gently reapplying it to the child’s face. “There!” she declared, relief washing over her as the child slowly regained composure.

After the brief episode, the baker escorted the little jester out of the shop, handing over a bag filled with bagels and a few sweets—a meager feast, but a feast nonetheless. The child bowed deeply, their gratitude palpable, before scampering off with the jingling bells of their hat and shoes echoing behind them.

As they munched on the chewy bagels, savoring their hard-earned treasure, the joy was short-lived. Suddenly, strong hands gripped the child from behind, hoisting them up into the air. A man dressed in a striking blue-black uniform, with neat hair and charming dimples, faced them.

“Sorry, little guy, I’ll buy you food,” he said, a playful smirk on his face as he swung away with a grappling hook toward the rooftops. “But first, you’ve got to answer a few questions.”

The child stood frozen, wide-eyed, staring up at Nightwing. Suddenly, a thick cloud of gas—sweet as cotton candy—erupted from their suit. Nightwing instinctively covered his nose, shocked, yet he tightened his grip on the thin child. But in a split second, the little figure slipped through his fingers like a ghost.

With an agile burst of movement, the child took off, already anticipating their escape route. Nightwing recognized the sugary scent of the gas instantly, letting go of his nose. He dashed after the child, who skidded across the rooftop. As Nightwing closed in, they turned, flashing a daring look before launching themselves into the air, landing gracefully on him. It was as if he were nothing more than a springboard for their acrobatics. But as he turned to catch them, the child vanished like smoke.

Frustrated, Nightwing pressed the comms hidden in his ear. “They’ve disappeared. Robin, you’re up.”

Meanwhile, Robin was perched nearby, eyes sharp and ready. He smirked as he spotted the child darting his way. The moment was electric. Robin charged forward, but the quick-witted jester used the boy as a launchpad, vaulting over him with effortless grace while tugging him down in a whimsical twist. As the jester sped off, the child playfully slapped Robin’s cape, leaving him exasperated. “Ugh!” he exclaimed, determination igniting as he sprinted after them, refusing to give up.

But the chase took a tense turn when the jester led the way into a dead end. “Nowhere to run! We know you work for the Joker!” Robin shouted, planting his feet firmly. The child turned, their expression still as blank as before, and exhaled slowly, as if time itself had slowed.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a wall erupted between them. Robin reflexively hurled a Batarang, but the jester countered with a Joker card, flinging it at the boy. The card began to beep ominously, its sound a countdown. Robin’s heart sank as he realized the jester was escaping through a vent, glitter exploding in the air around the child, painting the scene with chaos and wonder.

Once again, the elusive jester slipped through their fingers, leaving Bruce grappling with questions. How could such playful devices aid them? The clock was ticking. They had to catch them before it was too late.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

They unknowingly bring up an insecurity Seungmin|Pt1

Pt2 Pt3

Your heart was strung in your throat. Seungmin was always one to tease; and for the most part he was good about shying away from topics you were sensitive about so no problems had ever arisen. But as you read over his texts over and over again you felt your heart pinch in a way that was all to similar to what you had felt in your previous relationship.

"You talk too much, you know that?" Your ex had told you that numerous times, and eventually it led to a break up. And your constant yapping became something that made you insecure.

But when you first met Seungmin you felt like you were perfect the way you were. Chan had said you would balance Seungmin out quite well. And up until now you felt as if that were the case.

Now you wondered if maybe you did become to much.

Maybe the constant chatter had become annoying to the quiet boy you loved dearly.

And while you had been in love numerous times before, it hurt more to even think of losing Seungmin than all your previous heart breaks combined. And that was a lot considering you had always been the one to have your heart broken.

You couldn't tear yourself away from your phone screen - rereading those texts and overanalyizing the tone.

Maybe it was in a light hearted way? Or maybe it was the complete opposite and it was fully aggression?

You sat there trying to pick apart every single meaning, connotation, and tone the words he sent could have when your phone dimed again.

"I'm guessing your busy shopping since my phone has been quite for more than fifteen minutes. Haha, I think that's a first!"

You did everything in your power to try and bite back the knot in your throat from coming up and causing tears. So much so your eyes started to burn and you ended up shedding a few quietly.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with miniscule little tasks like dusting the fans and sweeping the welcome mat that you intended to take along with you when you moved in with Seungmin.

You tried to take your mind off of the texts. You figured Seungmin didn’t mean it in anyway malicious sort of way. In fact you knew he meant it as a lighthearted joke. In the time you had spent with him you had easily learned just how kind and loving of a person he was, and how much he cared for you.

You just couldn’t shake the hurt from those words - and more importantly the fear you had deep down that there was some truth to the words he had sent.

By the time Seungmin arrived at your apartment it was early evening. Every Wednesday you guys would cook together ever since you witnessed him and Felix blowing food up by accident on a live. Seungmin followed the normal routine of slipping off his shoes and into his house slippers and immediately changing into a cheap shirt he had bought when you first had started your endeavors since he was smart enough to realize he was a messy cook.

“Hey baby.” He said as he greeted you with a quick hug from behind and a chaste kiss to the cheek before he went to wash his hands.

You have a small noise of acknowledgement as Seungmin dried his hands off on a plaid towel and turned to you with happy anticipation.

“What are we cooking today?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” You replied as you started to grab the necessary ingredients. Seungmin followed you around like a happy puppy and helped you a carry everything to the counter you reserved for preparation of ingredients.

“So how do we start?” Seungmin asked. By now he had noticed your face was a little droopy and your responses were short and if there was any conversation it was only in answer to his initiation.

“With the ground beef.” You said as you pulled out a big bowl to put the meat and seasonings in. Seungmin watched you from his peripheral as you poured in some panco bread crumbs and a bunch of other various aromatic seasonings while he opened up the meat packaging.

As he kneeled everything with his hands he tried asking you about your day.

“So did you end up ordering the mugs baby?”

“No, I didn’t.” Silence.

“Oh…maybe after dinner we can look on Etsy together? Or maybe find a website to customize them? It might seem like a lot but I think the guys would really appreciate your sentiment.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Silence.

Seungmin started to roll out oddly and unevenly shaped meatballs and continued to try and ask you questions as you guys worked, but your answers we short. Not rude. But literally short.

Not thouroghly explained like usual.

Even at dinner you were quiet and barely even touched your food.

“Do you not feel good baby?” Seungmin asked you as you played with a piece of garlic bread.

“I feel okay…maybe a little tired.” You said popping the piece into your mouth as if to show you were feeling fine.

Seungmin sighed and put his fork down.

“Did my text hurt your feelings?” He had been worrying about it all day when he had seen you had left him on read. It was an odd thing but nevertheless endearing when you would finish a conversation over text and send a meme to him just to acknowledge the end of the conversation, and to make sure he “didn’t find it hurtful” that you had left him on read. Even if he constantly assured you it was in no way shape or form a problem.

You hadn’t sent him a meme. And the more he thought about it he realized that his humor might not have translated through text.

“Im sorry if I hurt your feelings. It was a joke, Y/N. I would never purposefully want to hurt you. I love when you share about your day. I was a bit tied up so while you texting me might have been inconvienent at the moment doesnt mean I don’t appreciate you wanting me to know everything about what you are doing. I love that you want me to be a part of your life , even the tiny thing.”

“It’s okay babe.” You replied putting a smile on your face. “I know you didn’t mean it to hurt me. I’m just tired that’s all.” You let out a breath as you stood up and collected Seungmin’s plate. “Maybe we can just watch a movie instead of shopping? I just don’t feel like thinking very much right now in any capacity…” You let out quietly.

“Of course.” Seungmin responded, trailing you into the kitchen as you set the plates in the sink. “I love you.” He said quietly, his voice lilting up slightly. Were you actually okay?

“I love you too Minmin.” You place a a small kiss next to his eye and head towards the living room.

During the movie Seungmin kept stealing glances at you as you leaned on him but not into him. As you laughed but the curve of your mouth didn’t exactly reach your eyes. And how those same eyes were focused on the screen but your mind was obviously some place else.

Although you had said you were fine your silence gave him the answer you actually wanted to give. That Seungmin had struck a nerve more sensitive than he had known.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSAILOR SONG * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N and Matt have a comfy indoor date; baking together.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　making out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

'I saw her in the rightest way'

The kitchen was an absolute mess, a delightful, chaotic swirl of ingredients strewn across the counters, flour dusting the air, and the aroma of vanilla mixing with the sound of their favorite playlist softly drifting in from the living room. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the scene as Y/N stood at the counter, carefully measuring flour into a white-ish ceramic bowl. Beside her, Matt was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed solely on her, watching her with an intensity that could have melted chocolate.

"Okay, so you just, like, throw the flour in, right?" Matt asked, breaking the comfortable silence, reaching for the open bag with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that spelled disaster.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively darting forward to stop him.

"Wait, wait- Matt, no!" But it was too late. A poof of flour erupted like a mini explosion, covering both of them in a soft, powdery cloud.

Matt froze, blinking through the haze, and then burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"Oops." He said with that boyish grin of his, the one that made Y/N’s heart do a little flip every time.

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, laughter bubbling up as she brushed flour off her cheek.

"You’re such a mess." She teased, shaking her head, her eyes sparkling.

"And yet, here you are teaching me." He shot back, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guess that says something about you, huh?"

"Yeah." She said with a mock exasperated sigh. "That I’m a hopeless romantic who thinks you can actually learn how to bake."

Matt just grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on her flour-dusted nose, making her scrunch it up adorably in response.

"Alright, lover boy." Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile. "Let’s try not to blow up the kitchen, okay? I need you to grab the sugar next."

"Yes, ma’am." Matt replied, snapping a playful salute before turning to rummage through the cupboard. He managed to grab the sugar jar without spilling anything this time - progress, she thought with a fond smile.

They continued to work side by side, the kitchen filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar. Y/N would occasionally reach out to correct Matt’s technique, her touch light but effective. Every time their hands brushed, Matt would flash her that lopsided grin that always made her cheeks warm. She tried to stay focused, but with him being so close, so effortlessly charming, it was a losing battle.

At some point, they both reached for the vanilla extract at the same time. Their fingers tangled, and Matt shot her a playful look.

"Hey, who’s the baker here?" Y/N teased, nudging him aside with her hip, her laughter light and teasing.

"I don’t know, I don't see them anywhere." He joked, pretending to search around the room, making her roll her eyes though the grin on her lips was impossible to hide.

They kept mixing and measuring, Matt’s enthusiasm both endearing and chaotic. Just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he made his biggest blunder yet. He grabbed the baking soda and dumped a generous amount into the bowl, not bothering with a measuring spoon.

"Matt, no!" Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with horror. "That’s way too much! You’re going to ruin the batter!"

Matt looked from the bowl to her, then back at the bowl, his eyes comically wide. But instead of panicking, he simply shrugged and started laughing, his laughter so infectious that Y/N’s frustration began to dissolve.

"Matt, I’m serious." She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This was supposed to be perfect, and now they’re going to taste like-"

"Hey, hey." Matt said softly, reaching out to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Come here, sweetheart. I'm sorry, yeah?"

Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his warm embrace. Y/N sighed, trying to hold onto her annoyance, but the way he was looking at her - with that soft, adoring gaze - made it nearly impossible.

As if the universe was observing them closely, te next song on the queue started playing, and when Matt realized that it was one of their favorite - Sailor Song by Gigi Perez, obviously - his body started swaying gently, bringing her with him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying not to smile, her voice softening as her hands found home against his biceps.

"Distracting you." He said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Is it working?"

Y/N tried to stay annoyed, but the tenderness in his eyes melted her defenses.

"You are so ridiculous." She said, but her words were softened by the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Ridiculously in love with you." He murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Can you forgive me?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she let out a soft, defeated sigh, leaning into him fully.

"Fine." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "But you’re still fixing the batter."

"Deal." He said with a grin. And before she could pull away, he spun her around in a quick twirl, eliciting a surprised, joyful laugh from her, her apron flowing around her body.

As she came back into his arms, breathless and giddy, her eyes met blue soft ones, shaking her head.

"You really are something else, Mr. Sturniolo."

"And you love me for it." He replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her against him.

"Yeah." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

With the playful moment fading into a comfortable silence, they returned to the counter, side by side once more. Y/N sighed dramatically, surveying the batter that was now slightly too foamy from Matt’s over-enthusiastic addition of baking soda.

"Okay, let’s see if we can salvage this." She said, her voice taking on that determined tone Matt found so adorable.

"How bad did I mess it up?" He asked, a wince escaping his lips.

"Not too bad." Y/N admitted with a small, fond smile. "We can balance it out with a little extra flour and sugar."

"Got it." Matt said, nodding eagerly as he grabbed the bag of flour, waiting for her instructions.

They worked together to fix the batter, Matt actually listening this time, his focus unwavering as Y/N explained what to do. After a few minutes of adjustments, Y/N dipped her finger into the batter for a taste test. Her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise.

"Hey, it’s actually good!" She exclaimed.

Matt’s face broke into a proud grin.

"See? I knew I could fix it." He said smugly.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N hummed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Pretty sure I did most of the fixing."

"But it was my idea to fix it." He countered, leaning in to press his lips against her warm cheek.

"Alright, let’s get these in the oven before you mess up anything else." Y/N said, lifting the tray carefully.

Her fingers were nimble as she adjusted the rack, carefully placing the cupcake tray into the preheated oven.

Matt couldn’t help but stop for a bit and just stare, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving her. There was something about watching her work, so effortlessly absorbed in what she loved, that made him feel as though the entire world had slowed to a gentle stop just for them.

It wasn't his fault. He reasoned to himself. It wasn't his fault he found everything she did so endlessly endearing, so worth watching with that starstruck gaze that his brothers teased him about. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers dusted with flour, her lips pursed slightly as she adjusted the oven dial; it all made his heart swell.

Y/N stood up, wiping her hands on her yellow apron and closing the oven door with a soft clink. She turned to grab the timer, only to notice the way Matt was staring at her, eyes sparkling with that familiar, dazed expression. He looked as if he were lost in a dream, his gaze so soft it made her heart skip a beat.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she tilted her head slightly and smiled shyly.

"What?" She asked with a soft laugh, setting the timer up. "Do I still have flour on my face?"

Matt didn’t answer right away, his eyes never wavering from hers. It was like he was in some kind of trance, completely mesmerized. After a few seconds, he finally blinked, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Yeah." He said simply, his voice so low and gentle it made her stomach flip.

Before she could ask where, Matt stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her close. Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

"Right here." He dipped his head and began to trail soft, lingering kisses along her jaw. His lips brushed tenderly against her skin, and with each kiss, he pulled a soft, breathless giggle from her lips. The sweet sound made him smile against her cheek, his eyes closing as he continued his path to her chin, and then to her cheeks, where he left playful kisses that were so light, they were almost ticklish.

"Matt." She breathed out, half-laughing, half-sighing, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. Her fingers traced slow circles over his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.

He paused, hovering just above her lips, so close that she could feel the ghost of his breath on her mouth but not quite touching her. His eyes were locked on hers, and there was a playfulness mixed with adoration in them that made her knees feel weak. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her like this.

"Matt." She repeated, her voice a whisper now, filled with a hint of impatience.

"Yeah?" He murmured back, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.

"Kiss me properly." She demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?'

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in just a fraction more, brushing his lips against hers, still not quite giving in. But Y/N, never one to be outdone, closed the remaining distance, pressing her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that sent warmth blooming through her chest.

Matt’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer as their kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Y/N’s hands wandered from his chest to his biceps, squeezing slightly at the firmness there, before sliding up to his shoulders and finally into his hair. She tugged gently, earning a soft sigh from him that she could feel warming up her face.

Their lips curved into smiles as they kissed, each touch and movement so full of affection it made Y/N’s heart feel light. Matt blindly started to sway their bodies again, following the slow rhythm of the indie song, his hands exploring the small of her back, fingers spreading wide as if he wanted to memorize every curve.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, no kitchen, no baking, just the soft, sweet connection between their lips and the feel of each other’s warmth.

But the intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, loud DING! from the oven.

The sound made Y/N jump slightly, pulling away from Matt with a startled gasp. Matt couldn’t help but laugh, the joyous sound filling the kitchen as he pressed one last, playful kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Guess that’s our cue." He said, still chuckling as he gave her a quick eskimo kiss, their noses brushing together.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she gently pushed him away.

"Goofball." She muttered affectionately, her cheeks still flushed.

Reluctantly pulling away, Matt released her from his embrace, giving her one last, lingering look before letting her turn her attention back to the oven. Y/N leaned down to peer through the glass, her hands resting on her knees as she checked the cupcakes.

Matt watched her from behind, unable to resist the fond smile that tugged at his lips. The sight of her brows knitting together as she inspected their work made his heart swell.

"They look perfect." Y/N announced, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

"All thanks to you." Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I love baking with you." He whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

"Even if you’re terrible at it?" She teased.

"Especially because I’m terrible at it." He replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Gives you more reasons to stick around."

'And we can run away to the walls inside your house'

© vanteguccir

[hazelfoureyes]

Have you ever thought about the idea of a Clueless ace reader x ace alastor trying to figure out what all the fuss is about? Couple different ways it could go obviously but I feel like it would be a perfect comedy smut

Thank you for this meal. Okay I know this is LOOSELY based on your prompt, please forgive me. Can I add in that they be a little tipsy?

Part 2 After a few drinks, you and Alastor do your usual teasing and mimicking of the others dramatic displays of physical affection. But, unusually, Alastor seems to be really invested in the joke tonight…

Warnings/promises: light smut (fingering), wrong kind of haha, sconces, bad Angel accent, Under 1500 words

maybe the tag list? Works list: @ xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Alastor list: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

.

Fuck Joke Around and Find Out

The evening started with drinks among the group gathered at the bar. Everyone talking, sipping, leaning into each other to be heard better. Vaggie’s fingers playing with Charlie’s, Angel inching closer and closer to Husk until he was quite literally on top of him, to Husk’s obvious embarrassment. At some point, Angel took Husker’s hand, the two slinking down the hallway. Soon after, Vaggie not-so-discreetly followed a bouncing Charlie to their top floor home.

After realizing the couples snuck off, you turned to Alastor and asked, already smiling, “Oh I guess it’s our turn?”

Your giggling slipped into mutual cackles, his brows rose and he asked, “Your room or mine?”

You threw your leg over Alastor’s lap and straddled him, mustering your best Angel Dust accent, “Pssst rooms are for squares, baby.”

Normally, especially when having a little to drink, the physical barrier between each other was thin and easily toppled. An unspoken understanding had formed some time ago, allowing you both to relax a little more than usual when in close proximity. He still attempted his touchy intrusions to fluster and bother people, but he knew that didn’t work quite as effectively on you.

“Squares? Oh, not us.” A smirk, his head somewhat dramatically shaking a reinforced ‘no’, making his bobbed hair sway left and right.

When you start a pitifully-motivated grinding against him, losing balance and tipping backward, Alastor’s large hands come to the dip of your hips and still you. A laughed, accent-less, “Thanks, trying to do it like he did,” fell sloppily from your mouth, your hands going to his shoulders for extra security. Your head bent down, stifling another nervous giggle from spilling out. “I think this is exactly how Angel had Husk pinned. Not a convincin’ portrayal, pookie?” Your accent was shit, but he smiled all the same. His ears were pressed down and to the side, resting a little more against his skull than usual, something that seemed to happen often when he had a couple glasses. It looked more relaxed than his normal way of wearing them, but you never asked him about it.

Alastor’s finger tipped your chin upward, pulling you in for a kiss against his grin. When you huffed, fighting the awkward laugh, he swiped his tongue over your lips and slid into your mouth. A hum, as you relaxed into it. What a long joke this is, you think somewhere a little up and to the left of your liquor softened mind.

When alone together, you’d occasionally play around. Just mimicking what ridiculous things the other sinners had done recently, laughing and moving on to general gossip and conversation. Maybe the alcohol was dragging out the bit.

His hands pulled you forward, your little hip movements actually making contact with his crotch now. You hear yourself moan into his mouth before you even realize you’d made the noise.

Thinking becoming a little fuzzy, you pull back from him, “Oops. Sorry. Got carried away.”

“No need to apologize. What’s a little joking around between pals?”

You nod before a surprised shriek is forced out of you, Alastor pulling your hips down and starting to sincerely grind against you.

“I didn’t expect you to remember all the moves, Alastor.” Your hand came to your mouth trying to still the tremble of your lips as you spoke. Other hand now gripping his shoulder to stay upright. You’d never have played around with any one else but him like this. Too much confusion to deal with after. But, Alastor’s “playing” was so convincing. You weren’t minding it, to your surprise, but you weren’t sure you understood the source material as well he did.

His head fell back with a roar, “Being an infrequent lover doesn’t mean I am a bad one.”

Oh. Was the blush on your face noticeable in the dingy light of the parlor? You had never heard him say that word before. His hips were still moving, but the laughing stopped. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact you found yourself sinking a little more, letting your weight settle fully. It earned you a sloppy half-smile from him. “That would make them experts, compared to us,” You motioned your head in the general direction of the stairs.

“You think so?”, he leaned up to kiss you, you leaned back a little, causing his lips to miss yours. A quick annoyed glare passed over his face before slipping back into a neutral stare, “Are you in the mood for a good joke tonight, dear? I wouldn’t be opposed to making you”, he grazed his nose against yours, “laugh.”

You let him capture your mouth with his, a surprisingly more intense kiss, before pulling away again when you caught another moan rising up, “I don’t mind a good laugh, now and then.” Did you-you say that or Angel-you?

The sofa cushions were pressing into your back before you could process what had happened. Alastor’s body was resting between your legs, which were spread open around him. His lips didn’t leave yours, one of his hands cradling your neck to trap you between him and his hungry mouth. The other was undoing the button of your pants and sliding under the band of your underwear.

His back was arched, his considerable height forcing him to bend over you if he wanted to continue the kiss, which he apparently did. Now on your back, you wiggled under him, awkward and uncertain what role you played anymore.

When his fingers slipped past your bottom lips and the mound of his hand ground into your clit, you pulled away from him and both hands shot to your mouth. You were aware you were in a public space but you couldn’t see anything past the sofa. Everything beyond him and the tattered chaise lounge was shadowy and lacking contrast. Even then, your heart was pounding.

When did the playing around shift? Was this—- did he think this was funny? His smile was strong against your neck still, but maybe not?

You splayed your fingers out to better hide yourself, embarrassed at how your hips rolled into his palm. Looking past your hands, you could see him staring down at you now, wide shoulders hiding you from the light of the sconces above. He had the same look as always in his eyes, nothing out of place. Cooly, he asked without actually wanting an answer, “Do you think this is what they’re doing now? Or is everyone already…”

A finger slipped down and into you, your legs clenching around his hips. You heard him sigh, before a second finger began to push in. Your hips lifted off the sofa and angled into his hand, welcoming the way he was pressing down and into you.

Oh, yeah, no.

A pent up moan tumbled past your lips when his fingers crooked up and pressed into the soft bundle of nerves just inside your entrance.

“What a curious laugh you have, my dear. Are my jokes that good?” He buried his face into the crook of your neck again when a voice stopped him from leaving the little marks he had been set on.

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny. When is the funny part going to happen?”

Alastor’s ears were pin-straight into the air, hair stiff and sharp, as his face slowly turned to the side to see Niffty sitting at the bar.

”Oh, was I suppose to leave when everyone else did?” His hand slipped out of you and then in turn, your pants.

“No, Niffty, dear. That’s quite alright.”, Ears faced back and down, eyes half lidded and smile clearly forced, “We were just— playing around.”

“Really? Cuz it kinda looked like you guys were gonna fuck.” She hopped off the bar stool and scurried down the hall, “Please don’t dirty the sofa, sir.” echoing behind her.

You patted his shoulder, lifting yourself up on your elbows, “Can I be Husk next?”

I wrote this while washing dishes— the dishes aren’t very clean but neither am I

༻Masterlist༺

[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 1

⚠ Content Warning: fluff, a man, stalker-ish if you squint? Context: You were doing your shopping, when you both reached for the gun same box of cereal. Tall, muscular, handsome—and respectively appreciating your curves. Word count: 1,368   │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hi hi hi!! ヾ(・ω・) This is a story I've been working on and this is just the first part, I swear... And it will get steamy as it continues. Honestly? It's that time of the month and I just wanted to make something cute and fluffy. I tried to be a vague as possible with reader, but there were definitely some things that I did decide to base off of myself. So, reader can walk, drive, and is over 21. Also, I am not super used to POV writing, so I hope I did okay. Like always, my inbox and asks are open for suggestions and ideas—or if you just want to say hello! The second part of this story will be released soon!

The speaker overhead mumbled a half-coherent call for an employee on isle 3 for a clean-up, a shopping cart squeaking from behind you as another shopper walked by. You were doing your weekly shopping, everything was the same dull routine as usual.

The same store, same crowd, same items. The glass jars in your cart clinked together as you pushed it towards your next target: the cereal aisle.

As you reach to grab your favorite cereal, another set of hands reach for the same box, knocking it from both of your hands, and sending it dramatically crashing to the floor. You quietly gasp, looking over at the figure beside you to start apologizing, but your words are cut off when you lock eyes with the man beside you.

Tall: way tall. Easily 6 foot; and broad. A strong jawline, sharp features, and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Eyes bluer than the ocean and dark hair curled perfectly in place on his forehead.

“Oh,” you say, blush already pinkening your cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

Meanwhile, this stranger is looking at you as if he’s completely entranced. He was, as respectfully is possible, gazing over your entire figure. The flare of your hips, the way the fabric of your jeans stretched over your thick thighs, how your shirt clung to your tummy.

He was a man, after all—but the first thing he noticed was how the fluorescent lighting of the store made your eyes glitter like they were full of fireflies. How your lips parted slightly as you looked up at him, already forming an apology before it came out. The curve of your jaw, the plumpness of your pink cheeks.

But the most important detail he made sure to check for: a ring. Seeing none, his eyes returned to yours.

Just a beat after your apology, he smiled. “My fault, really. I should have been paying more attention.”

His long arms flexing as he reached down and picked up the dented box of cereal from the floor. He tucked it in his cart before grabbing an uncrumpled box and offering it to you. “I guess I was distracted,” he said with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

That only made your cheeks darken. The way his eyes raked over your face, like he was trying to memorize every detail, making your chest tighten and stomach flutter.

“Distracted, huh? Sounds like a likely story,” you finally manage with a smile, taking the box of cereal from his large hand. You toss it into your cart half-mindedly before returning your gaze to the handsome stranger.

“Well, thank you.”

Then you expected that to be the end of the conversation: a thank you and goodbye… Yet he lingered.

“No, thank you,” he insisted, the smirk finally managing to fully grow on his lips. “I’m Daniel. And you are…”

You looked down to see his hand extended towards you. A handshake? You haven’t had someone outside of a professional setting ever offer you their hand. With a small laugh, you put your hand in his and offer your name.

“Y/N,” he echoed, fingers gently wrapping around your hand; not shaking, just holding. A thumb softly grazed the back of your hand, almost not there, nothing more than a ghost of a touch. After a moment, he reluctantly released your hand.

He asked if you were in a hurry—you were—and you said no. He asked to join you; and as you looked up at him, you found yourself accepting. He reached things on the top shelves for you, walked patiently beside you, smiling warmly as you spoke. His eyes barely left you and his basket never having a single item added to it.

He was completely transfixed by you. The way your brows scrunched slightly when you were debating between two brands, how your hips swayed as you pushed your cart: you were like a goddess before him and all he wanted to do was admire your beauty.

You turned towards him, your smile faltering for a moment as you see his gaze on you. His shoulders were slumped forward slightly, eyes heavy-lidded, and a wide smile splitting his face. Your smile returned as a smirk as you lightly teased him.

“You okay?”

He nodded absentmindedly. Then realized how stupid he must look; quickly straightening his spine to stand straight, once again towering over you. A hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously, his eyes shifting towards the shelf of macaroni noodles beside them.

“Ah,” he started before chuckling nervously, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just—” His eyes met yours, stopping his train of thoughts faster than a brick wall.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, eyes softening as he gazed down at you.

You couldn’t believe how he looked at you. Sure, you’d dated and were by no means innocent; but this was different. It wasn’t lust—okay, maybe that was there, too… But he looked at you like you were the only one worth seeing.

“I know this is really bold, but could I get your number? I’d love to take you out.”

“My number?” You blinked; and though you usually never hesitated to decline giving your number to strangers, you did. Only for a moment, but the fleeting thought almost sprung forward. “Hmm… I don’t make habit of giving my number out.”

While he was glad to know you were safe with personal details, he also couldn’t fully hide the disappointment that creeped into his features.

“I understand,” he quickly replied with a soft smile. He looked down at you, already trying to figure out how to see you again. “Do you… shop here often?”

You did. Every week. Same day, same routine—though he didn’t need all those details.

You nod, his smile grew.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he suggested; even though he was already planning on coming back regularly to a shop he’d never been to before.

He fell in line behind you, your shopping cart full and his basket only holding the same two items that were there before. You, of course, commented on it as you waited.

“Needed to walk around for a while anyway,” he offered dismissively with a small shrug of his shoulders.

You pay for your things, loading them back into the cart to push to your vehicle. You smile and give a small wave as a goodbye before making your way to the parking lot.

As you packed the last paper bag into your car, you heard footsteps behind you, a voice cutting through the air before you can fully turn.

“Can I take your cart back for you?”

Your eyes met Daniel’s once more as you turned your back to your vehicle.

“Oh,” you said, taken aback by seeing him again so soon. Yet, here he was, still looking at you like he was memorizing your face.

Maybe he was; because, God forbid, what if he never saw you again? What if this was the closest he would ever come to being the one to make you smile?

“Um, that’s okay. I got it.”

Daniel’s hands left the cart, he stepped back, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “If you’re sure.” He paused, wanting to say the right thing.

“I hope I see you again.” He smiled warmly, something behind his eyes resembling… longing?

You felt the blush creeping back into your cheeks at his raw confession; but maybe a part of you hoped for the same thing.

“We’ll have to see, hm?” You smile back, reaching behind you and closing the back of your car.

Then you properly say your goodbyes, and somehow he still ended up taking your cart for you. And that was it—you parted ways. You slide into your car, him in his. You pull out first, and you never saw his pull out.

As you make your way home, the radio playing softly in the background, a smile pulls at your lips. Would you see him again? Only time would tell; but suddenly the thought of doing your weekly shopping didn’t seem so boring.

freaknloser.tumblr.com © 2025

[lvzrii4]

꩜ .ᐟ christmas’ warmth

— ✮⋆˙ riki x reader ✮⋆˙ fluff ✮⋆˙ 0.7k wc ✮⋆˙ grammar errors

when christmas doesn’t feel like christmas, but nishimura riki exists.

It was Christmas again. Time had flown by so fast that with just one blink, it was already the season where families gather to celebrate and enjoy each other's company.

Christmas was supposed to be fun, right? But this year, it didn't feel like Christmas at all. And that made you sad, especially since Christmas was your favorite time of the year.

You sighed as you stared at the dining table. You’d prepared all the food, thinking your family would be there to enjoy it with you. But plans had changed.

Your parents were called into the hospital for a sudden emergency, and your older siblings couldn’t make it home because of college. You honestly hated being the youngest sometimes.

The coldness outside matched the emptiness you were feeling. The winter chill wasn’t just in the air—it was in your heart.

"I guess I’ll just watch a movie and eat the food," you muttered to yourself, trying to sound upbeat. You didn’t want your Christmas to be gloomy, but it was hard to shake the feeling.

You had just settled onto the couch with your food when your phone rang. You glanced at the screen and saw Riki’s name. A smile immediately spread across your face as you answered.

“Hey, Ri! Merry Christmas!” you greeted, your voice brighter than you felt.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Riki’s voice came through the phone, warm and familiar.

“So, how’s your Christmas going?” you asked, as you flopped back onto the couch with a small sigh.

“Doing fine. How about you?” Riki’s tone shifted slightly, sensing the difference in your voice.

You hesitated before replying. “Yeah, everything’s okay. It’s just… my family’s not here, so I’m spending Christmas Eve alone. But it’s fine, nothing to worry about,” you said, trying to brush it off with a laugh.

But Riki wasn’t fooled. “Everything’s really okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. He knew how much Christmas meant to you.

You smiled softly. “Yeah, really. It’s just a bit… lonely, I guess.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then you heard a soft shuffle, like footsteps in the snow.

“Actually…” Riki’s voice sounded closer now, “I’m in front of your house right now.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your eyes widened. You immediately jumped up and rushed to the door, throwing it open. There he was, standing in front of you, snowflakes dusting his dark hair and shoulders.

“Hi,” Riki waved, his breath visible in the cold air.

You blinked in surprise, lowering the phone from your ear as you pulled him inside. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured your family might be busy, so I rushed over,” Riki explained, smiling as he shook the snow off his coat. His hands gently found their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

“But… what about your family? Your friends?” you asked, feeling a little guilty. You didn’t want him to skip his own celebrations just for you.

Riki chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “There’s always tomorrow, you know? Besides, let me prioritize you tonight, alright? And don’t worry, they know I’m here.” He smiled reassuringly, before adding, “Now, let’s enjoy Christmas Eve together, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, that sounds perfect. But I hope you’re hungry—because I made way too much food.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Riki teased with a playful grin, making you laugh as you led him to the table.

The night passed quickly, filled with laughter, jokes, and spent the rest of the time by a Christmas movie marathon.

At some point, you checked the time and realized it was already past midnight—Christmas Day had arrived. You couldn’t stop smiling as you felt Riki’s arms wrap around you from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“Merry Christmas, Ri,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection. You turned in his arms, cupping his cheeks gently in your hands.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft and full of gratitude. “Thank you for making my Christmas special.”

Riki’s smile grew tender, and without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was slow, warm, and comforting, as if the chill of Christmas had been completely washed away by the warmth between you two.

“Anytime.”

With Riki by your side, Christmas finally felt like Christmas again.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

The Teaching Assistant

Big Jim x Reader

Warnings: Rough sex, semi-public sex, desk sex, oral sex (female receiving), overstimulation, slight somno vibes (reader dazed/out of it from pleasure), praise kink, hair pulling, light spanking, dirty talk, size kink, breeding kink implied, minor fear of getting caught, hand-over-mouth, degradation mixed with praise, explicit language, possessiveness, strong dom/sub dynamics, reader gets a little teary from overstimulation (but in a good way).

dedicated to : @cheappop

The second bell rang through Pensacola High, and the hallways exploded with noise—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, voices bouncing off the old tile floors.

You tucked a stack of graded papers tighter under your arm, weaving your way through the chaos. Being the head teaching assistant meant a never-ending cycle of babysitting—both students and sometimes, your own coworkers.

You were halfway to the main office when Principal Hernandez waved you down.

“Hey! Got a favor to ask.”

You already knew it wasn’t a real question. You forced a polite smile. “Sure, what’s up?”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “New teaching assistant starting today. For Coach Ramirez’s classes. He’s older—bit of a career shift situation. I want you to train him. Show him how we run things here.”

Older? Career shift?

You nodded, but inwardly groaned. It was hard enough training someone fresh out of college, let alone a mid-life crisis case.

You were still stewing over it when you heard the door creak open behind you.

You turned—and stopped breathing.

The man who approached you wasn’t what you expected.

Tall, broad, tan skin dusted in Samoan tattoos that peeked out from his polo shirt. Dark hair tied back, a lazy, confident grin curving his mouth like he already owned the room.

But it wasn’t just his looks that hit you.

It was his eyes… those chocolate orbs.

Principal Hernandez beamed. “This is Jimmy Uso. Jimmy, this is our best TA. She’ll be training you.”

Jimmy’s eyes dragged over you slowly, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, voice low and rich, laced with something teasing. “Guess I’m in good hands.”

You swallowed a gulp, forcing your lips into a neutral smile.

“Yeah. Welcome to Pensacola High.”

But as you shook his hand, his thumb dragged lightly against your palm—and you knew.

This man was going to be nothing but trouble.

⸻

Three weeks later

The rain hammered against the windows, soft and steady like a ticking clock.

The whole school was swallowed by it—only the faint lights of parking lot cutting through the downpour outside.

You tucked your hands into the sleeves of your oversized button-down, pretending not to notice the way Jimmy kept glancing at you from across the desk.

It wasn’t like you wore anything special.

It was just a plain white button up shirt, sleeves rolled sloppily to your elbows, a few buttons loose at the top because the AC always broke when the weather turned.

Still, under Jimmy’s gaze, you might as well have been wearing nothing at all.

“You good?” you asked, raising a brow at him over the pile of graded quizzes.

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. The move stretched the fabric of his polo shirt tight across his chest, and he grinned that lazy, devil-may-care smile.

“Yeah, mama,” he drawled. “Just thinkin’.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, trying to focus. The numbers on the grading spreadsheet blurred.

“You want some hot chocolate or something?” he offered after a moment.

“My treat. Well—your Keurig’s treat.” He winked.

You huffed a small laugh. “Sure. Why not.”

Jimmy stood, stretching slow and tall, before crossing to your tiny office kitchenette tucked into the corner. You watched him out of the corner of your eye—how casual he moved, how confidently he grabbed the mugs, popped the pods, found the Cool Whip like as if he’d done it a hundred times.

“You got marshmallows too?” he teased, shaking the can of whipped cream.

“Just the Cool Whip,” you said, clicking save on the spreadsheet.

He poured two mugs, swirling an unnecessary—and very cocky—mountain of whipped cream on top.

He brought one over, handing it to you with a little bow like he was presenting a five-star meal.

“Your majesty,” he said under his breath.

You hid your smile behind the mug, taking a cautious sip.

The chocolate burned your tongue slightly, but it was sweet, rich—comforting.

“You got…” Jimmy’s voice dropped a little. “Hold on.”

Before you could react, his fingers brushed the corner of your mouth, soft and sure.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

And before you could second-guess yourself—before you could even think—you turned your head and kissed the tip of his finger.

Soft. Quick.

Jimmy froze.

So did you.

The only sound between you was the steady pound of rain against the glass and your own heartbeat roaring in your ears.

His hand dropped to your chin, tilting your face up gently.

“You sure you wanna start somethin’ with me?” he asked lustfully.

You didn’t answer.

You just leaned in closer.

“You in the business of eating out?” you asked, voice very daring.

For a second, Jimmy just stared—like he couldn’t quite believe you’d said it.

Then he grinned.

A wicked grin.

And in the next breath, he closed the distance—crashing his mouth down on yours in a kiss so deep and desperate it stole the air from your lungs.

Papers went flying as Jimmy swept the desk clean with a rough swipe of his arm, sending graded quizzes and folders fluttering like confetti.

Before you could gasp, he was lifting you—big hands gripping your thighs—planting you firmly on the desk, his body slotting between your legs like it belonged there.

You barely had time to clutch at him before he grabbed the front of your button-down and ripped it open, buttons popping and scattering across the floor.

Your bra was next—torn away like it was made of tissue paper.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice hungry and reverent.

He ducked his head, lips latching hungrily onto your chest, biting and kissing, his stubble scraping just enough to make you whimper.

You arched into him, fingers threading into his hair, tugging him closer.

Your thighs fell open instinctively, and you gasped when you felt him—hard and straining against his jeans—pressing right against your pussy.

The contact was maddening.

You rocked your hips forward in silent invitation, desperate for more, needing more.

Jimmy groaned against your skin, the sound vibrating through your bones.

“Goddamn, mama,” he muttered. “Smell so fuckin’ sweet… been dyin’ to taste you.”

Jimmy’s hands slid down your sides, rough and greedy, gathering the hem of your skirt.

He pushed it up slowly, revealing more and more of your bare thighs, and when he caught sight of what wasn’t underneath—no panties, nothing—he froze.

His nostrils flared, eyes going dark as he stared at you like you were prey.

“Fuckin’ hell, girl,” he rasped. “You tryna kill me or what?”

You squirmed instinctively, the air cool against your exposed skin, but Jimmy wasn’t giving you an inch.

He hooked his strong arms under your thighs, dragging you to the very edge of the desk.

You tried to scoot back, a small whimper escaping you, but his grip tightened—holding you right where he wanted you.

“Uh-uh,” he muttered, glancing up at you with a smirk that sent you over the moon.

“You ain’t runnin’ nowhere.”

Without warning, he dipped his head between your legs, nose bumping against your precious folds, inhaling like he was memorizing how beautifully you smelled.

Then his mouth was on you—hot, wet, unrelenting.

His tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your center before circling your clit in lazy, teasing swirls.

You gasped and gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles flexing.

Jimmy didn’t give you a chance to recover.

He set a devastating pace, switching between broad licks and focused, torturous flicks of his tongue, his stubble scraping just enough to make you writhe. It was like he was made to just eat women on a daily…

You cried out, hips bucking, but he just wrapped his arms tighter around your thighs, pinning you in place like a man starved.

“Stay still, mama,” he murmured against you, voice wrecked with need.

“Let me fuckin’ taste you right.”

He increased his efforts as your orgasm hit fast and sharp, tearing a broken moan from your throat.

Your whole body shook, thighs trembling—but Jimmy didn’t stop.

Not even close.

He pulled you back down when you tried to lift your hips away, locking you against his mouth, tongue working you through every shudder, every helpless little whine you made.

And then he kept going.

Building you up again—lazily, confidently, like he owned your body now.

Your hands pulled on his hair, but he just groaned like he loved the fight, mouth dragging obscene, wet sounds from you as your second orgasm slammed into you even harder.

“Jimmy—” you gasped, voice wrecked.

He just grunted, hooking your legs even higher over his shoulders to get deeper, tongue fucking into you until you were keening, panting, broken apart again.

Your third orgasm nearly blacked you out.

When you finally sagged against the desk, boneless and soaked in sweat, Jimmy pulled back just enough to look up at you.

His mouth and chin were shiny with you, his eyes wild.

“I ain’t even close to done,” he said, voice rough with hunger.

“You taste too good, baby. Wanna keep eatin’ ’til I’m fuckin’ full.”

And with a swift motion he buried his mouth back between your thighs—determined to take every last drop you had to give.

Eventually, you lost track of how long Jimmy kept you trapped under his mouth—tongue relentless, lips sealing around your clit again and again until every nerve ending in your body was sparking.

Your thighs were quivering so badly you could barely hold them open anymore, and still he didn’t let up.

You twisted, whimpered, tried to shove at his broad shoulders—but he only moaned louder, licking greedily, moaning into you like he needed this more than air.

“Jimmy—please,” you gasped, voice hoarse. “I—I can’t—”

You tapped his shoulder weakly, and only then—only then—did he finally pull back, chest heaving, face completely wrecked with your juices.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you like he could eat you all over again.

“Tapped out already, mama?” he rasped, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Shit. You’re lucky I’m feelin’ nice tonight.”

You could barely breathe, legs spread wide and trembling where he left you, your cum smeared across your inner thighs, dripping down onto the desk.

Jimmy stood, towering over you, undoing his belt with one hand.

The click of it unfastening made your whole body tense.

“You should be wet enough to take all of me now,” he said raggedly.

His jeans slid low on his hips as he unzipped them, pushing them just low enough to free himself.

Your eyes widened when you saw him—thick as fuck and veiny—and your stomach flipped at the size of him.

“Jimmy,” you whispered, stunned. “That’s not gonna fit.”

He chuckled darkly, stepping between your open thighs, fist lazily stroking himself as he looked down at you like you were dessert.

“We can make it fit, baby.”

He lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing hot and firm against your soaked entrance.

He didn’t thrust—not yet.

He pushed in slow, steady, forcing your body to stretch inch by devastating inch around him.

You clutched at his biceps, nails digging into his skin as he sank deeper, and deeper, and deeper, dragging a choked sound from your throat.

Jimmy’s head dropped forward, a long, drawn-out moan rumbling from his chest.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed, bracing his forehead against yours.

“How the fuck you so fuckin’ tight, girl? You tryna make me nut after one stroke?”

You whimpered, blinking up at him, feeling so full you could barely think.

Every inch of him throbbed inside you, pleasure growing low in your belly, your walls fluttering helplessly around him.

Jimmy grinned, very breathless.

“Don’t worry, mama,” he murmured against your lips.

“We just gettin’ started.”

Jimmy moved slow at first with each roll of his hips was deep, grinding, making sure you felt every pulsing inch of him as he stretched you wide.

“You takin’ me so good, baby… fuck, you were made for me.”

Your hands clutched at his arms, fingers scrabbling for something to hold onto as he thrust slow, measured, dragging out the way your walls gripped and squeezed around him.

“You feel me?” he whispered, hips nudging deeper. “Feel how good you fit ’round me?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasped, dizzy with how full you felt, with how careful he was being when all you wanted was more. “Jimmy… harder.”

He froze for a second, chest heaving.

You watched that wicked grin bloom across his face again.

“Harder, huh?”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you clenching around nothing.

You whimpered, thighs already trembling from how much he had wrecked you with his mouth.

Jimmy caught you easily as you slid off the desk, arms wrapping around you tight when your knees buckled.

“I got you, mama,” he said, kissing the side of your temple. “Always got you.”

Before you could catch your breath, he spun you around and bent you over the desk, your cheek pressing against the cool surface.

A sharp nudge of his foot kicked your feet apart wider.

The rough dominance of the gesture only made your fresh juices drip more between your thighs.

“You said harder,” Jimmy growled lowly.

“Don’t take it back now.”

You barely had time to brace yourself before he grabbed a fistful of your hair, not cruelly, but firm, using it to pull your head back slightly as he lined himself up behind you again.

And then he slammed into you—hard, deep, brutal.

You cried out, the desk screeching forward an inch on the floor from the force.

Jimmy’s grip tightened in your hair, his other hand locking around your hip like he was scared you’d disappear.

His pace was merciless now, hips snapping against your ass with loud, wet slaps, the sound obscene in the empty office.

“Goddamn, baby,” he grunted, rutting into you, the sounds of your bodies filling the room.

“Fuckin’ made for me… perfect little pussy takin’ all this cock.”

You moaned helplessly, eyes rolling back as he fucked you harder, faster—still somehow holding back from finishing, but barely.

Jimmy bent low, breath hot against your ear.

“You better hold on, mama,” he rasped.

“‘Cause I ain’t lettin’ you go ‘til I’m done givin’ this sweet little body everything it needs.”

Jimmy kept fucking you, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing off the walls—when a sudden knock rattled the office door.

You froze, going rigid under him.

Jimmy stilled too, buried deep inside you, cock pulsing against your walls.

Jimmy’s hand clamped fast over your mouth, muffling the whimper that almost escaped you.

“Uh… everything alright in there?” a gruff voice called.

It was the janitor—Mr. Benson, from the night shift.

His chest pressed tight against your back, heartbeat hammering just as hard as yours.

He stayed lodged deep inside you, not pulling out, just grinding slow strokes that made your thighs quiver against the desk.

You squirmed, trying to stay still, trying not to make a sound—but every slow drag of his cock inside your soaked, stretched walls made your breath hitch.

“You… uh, need this room cleaned?” Benson asked again, sounding a little suspicious.

Jimmy leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, still moving inside you just slow enough to make you go insane.

“Speak now..”

He lifted his hand slightly, giving you room to speak—though he stayed locked inside you, thick and unrelenting.

You struggled to find your voice, blinking tears of frustration and pleasure out of your eyes.

“N-no!” you croaked out, breathless.

“We’re good! No cleaning needed!”

A beat.

“Alright then,” the janitor grumbled. You heard the soft squeak of his cart wheels rolling away.

The second the sound disappeared down the hallway, Jimmy’s whole body shifted.

You barely had time to inhale before he grabbed your hips and slammed into you, picking up the brutal pace exactly where he left off.

“No interruptions this time, mama,” he growled, pulling your hair again to arch your back deeper into him.

“Gonna fuck you like you fuckin’ need it.”

His thrusts were relentless—hard, fast, dominant—his cock hitting deep with every snap of his hips.

Your cries turned into broken moans, your hands clawing at the desk for any kind of anchor.

Jimmy was a force now—grunting, cursing under his breath, owning your body like it was his right.

“You feel that?” he rasped against your ear, voice wrecked.

“That’s me, stretchin’ this pretty little pussy open… makin’ you mine.”

Every word made you clench tighter around him, every thrust sending you closer to the edge again.

You could feel it building again—incredible and inevitable.

Jimmy’s fingers bruised into your hips as he chased his own release, grunting and cursing under his breath.

“You’re fuckin’ squeezin’ me so tight, baby,” he growled, voice wrecked, desperate.

“Can’t—fuck—hold out.”

You cried out, the pleasure inside you snapping tight.

“Jimmy—!” you gasped, body locking up, clenching down around him hard.

That was it.

That was all it took.

Jimmy groaned low and broken, slamming in deep one last time as he came inside you, hot and endless, his cock jerking with every pulse.

The feeling of him filling you tipped you over the edge too—you came with a sob, body wracked with shudders, your walls milking him for every last drop.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of attempted breathing as you stayed tangled together, bodies trembling.

Jimmy pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder still deep inside you.

“Same time tomorrow, mama?” he panted, voice teasing but warm.

You let out a breathless, wrecked laugh, cheek still pressed to the desk.

“We’re about to rack up so much overtime,” you muttered.

Jimmy chuckled low in his chest, hands smoothing over your sides, protective even in his exhaustion.

“Good,” he said, nipping at your neck playfully.

“Means I get to clock in… and clock out… right inside you.”

[elsecrytt]

you fucking hate your job.

unfortunately, you also need it.

some old money family hires you to play housekeeper for their weird ass son. satoru gojo, you think.

he's handsome. just looking at him is a treat; stark white hair, bright blue eyes, a face like an actual idol.

and then he opens his mouth. illusion ruined.

whatever. you don't care that much about his "wow! you really didn't dress up for work, huh?" and "so, let me guess... no boyfriend?" you’ve dealt with worse.

you'd been excited when you got this job. you're broke. the pay is great. you're ready to do anything to not get fired.

you keep the apartment completely spotless, despite how many candy wrappers and packages he leaves around, the disaster that is his stupid fancy bathroom. 

seriously, who leaves soap and shampoo everywhere like that? who jerks off in the shower that often? throws towels around and knocks bottles and toothbrushes over? it's like he's trying to leave a mess.

you do his laundry, which he just leaves on the floor like a goddamn animal. there's some clothes with gross, crusty white on them.

one time, you'd caught him staring at you while you picked it up, smirking all the while.

this is the guy you’re being paid to look after. and you’re fucking trying! god, do you ever try!

you cook meals from scratch, hours-long, intensive processes. you check his fridge, shamelessly dig through his garbage to see what he likes and try to make things he'll enjoy.

he leaves empty boxes of takeout on the counter, your homemade dinner in the trash, untouched.

it's in your contract. you can't not cook for him. and you can't eat anything, either, not when you're terrified of getting fired and he obviously likes to make you miserable.

and your landlord just informed you last month - rent will be going up. and not by a small amount.

you'd just finished digging yourself out of one hole and life kicks you right back down.

you don't know how you're going to make rent this month. fuck, you don't even know what you're going to have for dinner. if you can afford dinner. if you can even afford to put the heat on tonight.

it's not even a question. obviously the answer is no.

sitting on the plush, luxury couch in gojo’s apartment, you bury your head in your hands, and cry.

maybe you can get another job? but there's only so many hours in the day. you're so fucking sick of working all the time. you already do.

is it too much to ask for life to cut you a fucking break?

"what's wrong?" your least favorite voice interrupts - and a hand on your shoulder, shaking you, none-too-gently.

"don't tell me..." there's that smugness, "are you cryin'?"

"sorry, i just need a minute." you say, swallowing your anger to look him in the eyes. "i just got some bad news. my landlord is raising the rent next month."

"oh?" his tone is only getting worse, "so what? just move out. or get some roommates, or whatever you poor people do."

god, the fucking mouth on this man.

"soooo? sounds like poor planning on your part," satoru says, casually leaning onto the edge of the couch, "i just don't get why you're crying about it. like, that's kinda pathetic, you know?" he snickers -

SLAP

dead silence. a sting on your hand. satoru's face bent to the side. you don't even regret it. not right now, as angry as you are.

"you-" a rant is just about to spring from your lips, and then -

satoru grabs your hands, pulling them into his, right in front of his face.

his cheeks are dusted red. pretty eyes wide and dilated, fixed on you. mouth twisted in a grin.

you glance down to the front of his pants, where a noticeable bulge has formed.

"do it again."

[janiehellion]

𝐂𝐥𝛐𝐬𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Trapped overnight by a horde of walkers during a supply run, you and Daryl Dixon find yourselves in close quarters with nothing but time on your hands. And the problem that you can't keep your hands to yourself.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Language ⋮ Oral Sex ⋮ Belly Kink

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.664 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

"Keep ya eyes open," Daryl grunted and kept walking. His crossbow hung over his shoulder as his eyes looked left and right in search of any danger. He wasn't much for words, more action than unnecessary chit-chat, but you didn't complain. 

Today's task had been simple: Scavenge for as many supplies as you could until night began to fall, and then get back to the safety of the group. And that's exactly what you did, with your supply run partner being once again: Daryl Dixon.

You only nodded, holding your own weapon tightly. For all his rough exterior, you trusted him with your life. Over the last months, you've seen Daryl in action a lot of times already; to your eyes, he seemed to be one of the best survivors among the group. But tonight felt a bit off. It didn't feel like any other supply run; you were uncomfortable, and you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was likely to go wrong.

As the last rays of daylight finally vanished, sudden growls came from out of nowhere. You and Daryl immediately stopped dead in your tracks, your hearts racing in your chest as you realized that a small horde of walkers approached. Still, there were too many to take on, and running was definitely out of line. You had to find shelter, and fast.

"This way," Daryl whispered, tugging at your arm to lead you toward a building. He pushed open the door, and both of you slipped inside, shutting it as quietly as you could behind you. The room was dark and full of dust and the familiar smell of decay.

"Looks like we're in here for the time," Daryl said, walking over to a window and looking out through a gap. "They ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon."

You sighed, trying to steady your breathing. The reality of the situation was hitting you. Being stuck in this tiny, dark room with Daryl Dixon—with a horde of the undead outside—was just what you needed. 

Daryl, meanwhile, turned away from the window and explored the room further, but then he suddenly stopped and faced you. "Gonna need to check for scratches," he said, leaving very little room in his tone for argument. "Help me with my shirt."

"Okay, I guess..." You stepped closer, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the hem of his shirt before you lifted it slowly to reveal his stomach. His skin was rough and scarred from the years of survival, but to you, it was mesmerizing.

"See anythin' on my back?" He asked, his eyes boring into yours.

You shook your head, trying to focus. "No, you're... definitely clear."

"Thanks," he said gruffly, pulling his shirt back down. His fingers brushed against your hand as he did, and for a brief moment, you both froze, but the sudden sound of a distant groan made Daryl’s eyes snap back to the window. "Damn it," he mumbled, annoyed. "We should make sure this place is safe."

You followed him as he began to inspect the room, moving from one corner to another. "You need any help?" You asked, trying to keep the stutter out of your voice.

He glanced over at you, his eyes not giving away anything. "Just stay outta the damn way."

You took a step back, feeling a bit disappointed. There was something almost painful about the way he kept you at arm’s length, like a barrier you could never cross. Yet, it only intensified your need to break through his walls.

He still hadn't found anything, so you turned your attention to an old armchair in the corner of the room. You walk over to it, brushing off some of the dust, thinking it might be a good place to take a seat and wait out the night. But in your approach, you had knocked over a few empty glass bottles, which shattered on the floor.

"Be careful, woman," he snapped at you. "Ya wanna attract more of 'em and get us killed?"

You immediately apologized and bent over to pick up the pieces, your face blushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Soon enough, he was done checking out the room, and he sat down in the armchair that you cleaned off. "Looks like we're stuck here for the night," he said, though not to you in particular.

Meanwhile, you sat down on the floor across from him, trying to get comfortable. Daryl's eyes looked at you, though he didn't really manage to hide behind his usual stoic expression. "Ya cold or somethin'?"

You shook your head. "No, I'm okay. Don't worry."

He nodded, and for a moment, you thought the conversation might end there. But then he shifted around in the chair, as if uncomfortable with the silence. "Ya’ve been quiet," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Usually ya've got somethin' to say."

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Just… thinking, I guess."

"Thinkin' 'bout what?" He asked, still looking at you.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Everything. How things have changed since all of this started."

Daryl grunted, his eyes returning to the window. "Yeah, things've changed alright. Ain't much left in the world."

You didn't reply; instead, you watched him, noticing the way his muscles moved under his shirt and the way his eyes darted around, constantly on alert. It was almost hypnotic—this man who lived on the edge of survival, so strong yet so guarded.

As the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but glance at Daryl’s stomach, where his shirt had risen slightly when he sat down. Your eyes were drawn to the trail of hair that led from his belly button downwards, something you couldn’t ignore, and the more you tried to focus on something else, the more your gaze kept drifting back to him.

Daryl shifted again, his eyes catching yours. "Got a problem or somethin'?"

You looked away quickly, feeling your heart race. "Nope."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, ya can't just sit there starin' at me like that."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

He sighed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright. What is it ya wanna say?"

You fidgeted around, trying to find the right words. "I just… I guess I'm curious about you. About who you are when you’re not out fighting walkers or scavenging for supplies."

Daryl stared at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "And maybe I don't see the point in talkin' 'bout that."

You shifted on the floor, your movements restless. "Maybe we could make this night less pointless."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed. "What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I mean, we could talk about something else. Anything, really."

He studied you for a long moment, his expression guarded. Then, unexpectedly, he broke the silence. "Alright, fine. What do ya wanna know?"

You nodded. "What about before all this? What did you do?"

He seemed to ponder the question before answering. "Didn’t do much beyond huntin'."

You smiled faintly, lost in thought. "Sounds like a simpler life."

"Simple don't mean easy," he answered back quickly, looking away again.

Without even thinking, you closed the distance between the two of you, your heart racing in your chest and your hands shaking just a little bit as you held them out to him. Why? You didn't really know it yourself. You just did.

"What're ya playin' at?" He growled and narrowed his eyes.

You didn't respond. You went down to your knees in front of him, your eyes locked on his and your fingers brushing against the skin of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he watched you with curiosity.

"You like this?" You asked, your whisper barely audible over the far-off moans of the walkers outside.

Daryl's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. "What're ya tryin' to prove?"

You ignored his question, pressing your lips to his stomach in a matter of seconds. His skin was warm and slightly wet with salty sweat.

"Stop," he growled, but without conviction.

But you couldn't. You did not stop and continued to kiss and lick his stomach while your hands searched for every inch of his body. It was in the way his muscles twitched at your touch, the way his breath hitched—that really turned you on.

"You want this," you whispered, more a statement than a question.

Daryl's eyes blinked fast—part need, part hesitation. He was already at the edge, his breathing ragged, his eyes on you as if he willed himself to fight but failed.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his voice shaking. "Goddamn it… I want it."

That was all the motivation you needed. You reached out and placed your hand on Daryl's thigh, feeling him tense up slightly, but he still didn't pull away.

"I want to suck your cock," you whispered, your hand sliding up his thigh, closer to the bulge in his pants. As you reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle, he helped you with shaking hands.

You smiled up at him, your fingers soon enough wrapped around the base of his cock, and slowly you leaned forward and pressed your lips to slide over the tip.

You teased him with soft, slow kisses, using just the very tip of your tongue to outline his head. His moans were very low and almost barely audible, but they fueled your lust all the same when you licked off the pre-cum.

"Fuck!" Daryl gasped, his hands gripping the sides of the chair. "Just get on with it."

Your mouth opened wide, and you took him in almost immediately, starting with just the head and letting it slide slowly past your lips. It was almost too much, that feeling of his cock in your mouth, and so you pulled back a bit, swirling your tongue around the head before trying to take him in further.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Daryl mumbled, his eyes closed, as he fought to hold on to some sort of control.

Your hand didn't stop stroking the part of his shaft that wasn't in your mouth, moving in rhythm with your lips and your tongue's movements.

Daryl's hips bucked involuntarily with short thrusts, and every time he pushed forward, you took him deeper, feeling your throat expand around him.

"Ya keep makin' me harder," he said, his voice breaking. 

"Good. I want you to be," you grinned around him, and without hesitation, you dove back down on him, taking him in as deep as you could.

"Fuck, keep goin'," he urged. "Ya gonna make me lose it."

You were more than happy to obey, and you quickened the pace of your movements, your mouth sliding up and down his cock. His hands were gripping your hair now, guiding you and pushing you to take him even deeper. His groans were getting louder, sounding more desperate, and you could tell he was close already.

"Jesus, I'm gonna cum," he moaned, his voice trembling. "Gonna blow my load."

You smirked around his cock, but you certainly didn't mean to let him come just yet. Drawing back a bit, you let your tongue slide along the underside of his cock before swirling around the sensitive skin just below its head.

Daryl groaned loudly, his body arching due to the ruined orgasm. "Fuck, don't stop," he pleaded, his hands gripping your hair tighter. "I'm so fuckin' close."

At those words, your lips parted slightly, teasingly, allowing a strand of spit to connect you to his cock before you leaned forward again, but not taking him fully into your mouth.

"Goddamn it," Daryl groaned, his hips bucking reflexively. "Don't play 'round."

But you continued teasing him, your tongue playing with the pre-cum, letting it gather in your mouth before you let it drip back onto his cock.

"Tease me like this," he gasped, "and I'm gonna go fuckin' crazy."

"You want more?" you asked. "You want me to make you come?"

Daryl nodded desperately, his eyes half-closed. "Yes, fuck yes."

Instead of giving him what he wanted, you pulled away once again and began to kiss and lick his cock from the base up, sliding your tongue around his shaft and softly nibbling on it as you moved slowly back up, paying careful attention to every inch of his throbbing cock.

"Shit," Daryl moaned, his hands gripping your hair harder. "Fuck, stop teasin' me."

His moans grew louder as you finally gave in to him, your tongue swirling around his cock like a snake, leaving nothing untouched. Daryl gripped your hair tighter, and his thrusts grew more insistent, pushing you further on his cock as you gagged on him, and you took him deeper still while you could feel his balls tightening and the base of his shaft tensing.

"I'm gonna come," he warns, but you don't stop. You want to taste him and feel him explode in your mouth. "Oh, fuck," he cried out again, his grip on your hair tightening as he cursed. "I'm gonna fuckin' come!"

You sucked hard and long, your tongue twisting around the ridge of his cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath. With every suck, you could feel the pulsating veins in his shaft, and finally, Daryl came. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your mouth as he shot thick ropes of cum, filling your mouth with the salty, bitter taste of it.

You pulled off of him with a smirk, having swallowed the last of Daryl's cum, your lips glistening with the remaining drops before you wiped it off with the back of your hand.

"You okay?" You asked as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his stomach.

Daryl looked at you, a half-smile on his face as he met your gaze. "Yeah, I'm good."

You leaned in closer, letting your fingers explore the warm, sweaty skin of his belly. "So," you said, your voice playful, "since we're still trapped here, do you want to know what got us into this mess?"

Daryl's eyebrow arched upward in confusion. "What do ya mean?"

You pressed your lips lightly against his belly. "I was just thinking about how all this started. It was your belly that got me going in the first place."

Daryl's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, so that's why ya were starin', huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Your belly's kind of a big deal to me, but I can't really explain," you grinned up at him.

He smirked back in amusement. "Fine, if ya don't wanna."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No need to explain. Only appreciating the view."

"Well, don't get too distracted. We've still got loads of shit to do," he answered, getting up from the chair to prepare to take a quick look outside the window to see how many walkers are still outside and roaming around.

Brushing the dust off your clothes when you got up as well, you turned to Daryl with a little bit of a spark in your eyes. "By the way, Daryl, I hope this check-up was thorough enough for you."

He looked back at you with a confused expression on his face. "This check-up? What are ya talkin' about?" He asked, taking a step back from the window.

You smirked as you got closer again, both your hands running over his belly one more time. "Well, considering how things went down, I think we both should consider this our routine maintenance from now on, don't you think?"

Daryl's eyes widened for a second before he suddenly let out a small laugh. "A routine maintenance, huh? Alright. But next time, maybe we'll save the check-ups for a safer time. Now, get ya ass up and follow me."

"Deal. But I gotta say, I'm looking forward to the next routine check-up already," you laughed, following him to the door and closing it slowly behind you.

[jazziejax]

𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Terry Richmond x Black!OC, David Cliff x Black!OC, Jim Beckwourth x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Things take a turn for the worst when the Nat Love hangs rolls into Sugar Cane Creek, just to discover that things ain’t as sweet as they seem.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - blood, shooting, screaming, cursing, flirting, references to weight, late 1800’s….women in pants, cowboys. Let me know if I missed anything!

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - ….I don’t have to explain myself to your, this was purely self indulgent and yall don’t like RJ Cyler enough for me anyways 🙄 UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 10,187+

Sugar Cane Creek stood out against the dark wilderness surrounding it, its colorful buildings painted in deep blues, warm yellows, and rich reds, a stark contrast to the dust that settled over everything in sight. The infamous town thrived despite its location and always has. A hub of trade, gambling, and entertainment that attracted all kinds—some good, some bad, and some that danced on the razor’s edge between the two.

As the Nat Love Gang rode in, the streets had quieted for the night, save for a few stragglers loitering outside gambling halls. The men rode in on their horses, eyed by the drunkenly swaying few under the glow of lantern lights and the rising moon. Watchful eyes followed the gang as they passed, some curious, some wary, and the seldom flirtatious wave from young girls eyeing the slick crusaders that were Jim Beckwourth and David Cliff. They weren’t the first group of dangerous men to ride through this town—and they wouldn’t be the last. But who’s to say those dangerous men ever made it out?

At first, the gang stopped at The Velvet Spur, the finest hotel in the town, its golden trim reflecting the flickering lamplights hung outside. The place was directly across from the bustling casino, a smart business move. They could practically hear as dice rolled, cards shuffled, and fortunes changed in an instant. The music was loud and thumping as the people inside cheered.

Nat led the way inside, followed closely by Jim and David while Bill and Terry kept watch outside. The old clerk behind the desk barely looked up over his specs from the newspaper he read before shaking his head.

“Ain’t got no rooms left,” He grumbled.

The three men stepped at how quickly they were turned down, causing Nat to blink and then look at the two men next to him. Jim, being the playful young man that he was, took his hat off and held his hand up at Nat, telling him to wait. He then stepped forward, coming closer to the clerks desk. He leaned against the counter, flashing one of his disarming grins. “Now, see, that’s a shame, sir. We rode in all this way—”

“No rooms.” The man repeated, unmoved.

“Well, you ain’t even check the book. How are you so sure there ain’t no more rooms if you ain’t even checked the book?” Jim asked, dropping the nice boy act as he gestured to the resident book that sat next to the man, closed. The older man sighed, finally looking up from his reading and at the young man. “I think I would know if the rooms were full or not, young buck. I work here.”

“Yeah, but you are lookin’ a lil, not so young. You could be mistaken—.” Jim continued before being cut off by Nat.

“That’s alright.” He said, cutting the boy off before he could make their situation worse, watching as the old man’s face turned sour at Jim’s words. “Thank you, sir.” He said, offering the clerk a forced polite smile.

David sighed, adjusting his hat on his head. “Guess that means we’re sleeping under the stars again.” He said with a shake of his head. Jim placed his hat back on his head, giving the old man a nasty once over with his signature cinnamon stick in his mouth, before trying around to face his people. Just as they turned to leave, a young worker was rushing from the back, shrugging on his coat. “I could help ya.” He said, catching their attention.” Overhearing their predicament. The men all turned to face him, the young man coming forward as he adjusted his coat.

“They got rooms at The Sweet Tooth.” He said, hitching his thumb toward the door. “It’s a saloon, but they keep a few beds upstairs. In the rooms. Real good insulation too can barely hear a thang downstairs.” He said with a grin.

It was silent for a moment, the three outlaws eyeing the strangely eager young man. The old clerk just looked between them, wanting nothing more than for the strangers and his off-the-clock coworker to leave so he like read in peace. Jim then looked back at Nat, who eyed him before he gave a single nod.

“Lead the way, then,” Nat said, the trio watching as he walked ahead of them to see the other two men waiting outside next to their horses. “I’m Clarance, by the way.” He told them, giving a polite nod to the men who eyed him by the horses, untrusting. None of them said anything in response to his introduction, simply following him across the dirt path to the saloon, the moon casting a pale glow over the bustling town.

Laughter and music spilled from the establishment, mixing with the occasional distant crack of a pistol—warnings, celebrations, or something in between.

The Sweet Tooth stood at the heart of it all of the town, smack in the middle on the right side. Its name glowed in golden letters above the entrance, the flickering lanterns giving it a warm, inviting haze. It was alive with music and laughter, a stark contrast to the quiet outside. The smell of whiskey, tobacco, and the faint scent of something sweet hung in the air, mixing with the heat of too many bodies packed into one space. The place was packed, as expected, the heavy scent of whiskey and perfume wafting through the open doors. It wasn’t the downright fanciest establishment in town, but it had its charm—polished wood, golden trim, and deep red curtains that framed a small stage where a woman in a fitted blue dress crooned a slow melody.

The young worker turned to face the gang, standing before the saloon doors with an eager nod. “Go on in. Cotton’s got rooms for folks like y’all.”

“Folks like us?” Terry asked, his light-colored eyes striking as he raised a brow, stepping past him.

Clearance grinned. “Roughriders. Outlaws. Gunmen. All kinds.” He shrugged. “She don't much care, long as you got the coin and ain’t too much trouble.”

Nat glanced at David and Jim before nodding for them to enter. They barely made it past the entrance before they were flanked by two burly men and a woman in between them. “Well, well, don’t reckon I’ve seen y’all ‘round here before. Stayin’ or goin’?” She asked, her southern twang filled with nothing but sugar as she looked between them with her big brown eyes. Her smile as inviting as the warm glow of the lanterns inside. Jim and David stepped forward a little, eyes set on the woman while the other men admired from behind. They almost got shoved back by the men at her side, who they eyed threateningly before looking back at the beautiful woman. “We’ll be staying’ for the night. Though I’d rather stay whenever you are.” Jim flirted, not hiding the way he checked the woman out.

“And what might your name be?” David smirked.

The woman just grinned at them, becoming even more beautiful in the men’s eyes. “The names’ Suga. Come on in.” She said, nodding at them to enter before walking away. The group of five men tried to make their way in, before being stopped by the large men again. Suga rushed back, a smile on her face as one of the men grabbed a big chest. “Sorry, forgot to say weapons go the case.” She said. “Not taking them or nothin’, they’ll be up in your room for you to grab after you pay. Just don’t want no trouble.” She explained before looking the closest one, who happened to be Jim, up and down, a certain glint in her eye. A glint Jim caught with a smirk. She then glanced at the rest of the group of handsome men. “And you gentlemen look like trouble.” She said before walking away again. “And I trust you’ll put them all away.”

The men put all of their weapons in the case, watching as the large man closed it before walking away with the case. Jim was the first in motion, following behind where he saw Suga go, the girl leading the men over to a table near the bar.

“Now I know you fine gentlemen are probably tired from your long way here but I gots to find my sister Cotton in order to get you your rooms.” She explained, standing before them as they all situated themselves into chairs. “Settle in for a bit, enjoy the atmosphere, get a few drinks and I’ll be right back, ‘alright?” She said, offering them a sweet smile before turning on her heel. Her long curls whipped behind her. She didn’t wait for a response from them before her attention was on the bar. “Honey, drinks at table 3! And where the hell is Cotton?!” The girl yelled, not even stopping to gain any form of response from the woman behind the bar. Said woman, Honey, simply stopped wiping the bar countertop and watched Suga disappear into the back before then looking over at table three, where the group of men sat.

She let out a small sigh before grabbing a small notepad and the pencil from behind her head, moving from behind the bar through the small door and over to the table only a few feet away. “What can I help you gentlemen to?” She asked them, her tone a little uninterested as she chewed on the end of a toothpick. She was a stunning woman as well, resembling Suga just a bit. Her skin was lighter, her grin was large, her eyes naturally low and her face was sort of long.

The gang took in Honey’s cool, effortless demeanor as she stood before them, pencil tapping against her notepad. She was beautiful, no doubt, but unlike Suga’s flirtatious charm, Honey carried herself with a calmer demeanor, like a woman who had the patience of a monk. Since she was a bartender, having to constantly deal with drunk men and bar fights, probably.

Jim, never one to pass up an opportunity to lay on the charm, leaned forward with a smirk, resting his forearm on the table. “Well now, Honey, I’d say we’ll take whatever you recommend.”

Honey’s expression didn’t change drastically, the woman simply bling at him. But the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back a laugh while her eyes squinted a little as she looked down at the attractive man. “Whiskey, gin, or bourbon?” She questioned with a quirk of her brow, chewing her toothpick.

David chuckled under his breath, exchanging a glance with Jim before turning back to the woman. “Whiskey. And whatever you like.” He grinned, taking his hat off and placing it on the table.

Honey raised a brow at him, then scribbled down the order. “I like Vodka. Some you ain’t ever had.” She turned on her heel without another word, leaving the men to watch her go, amusement dancing in their eyes as she swayed away.

Terry leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he glanced around the room. “Place got some charm, I’ll give it that.” He stated, his eyes alert and ears open as he took in the vibrant place. His eyes kept going back to the stage, where the live band played, women dancing seductively while getting whistled and catcalled.

Bill, who had been quietly observing, gave a slow nod. “Ain’t too often you see a place like this run by women.”

Nat hummed in agreement, eyes scanning the room. “Means they’re either real good at what they do… or real dangerous.”

The saloon fell into a hushed lull the moment they heard the sound of thumping. The men all looked around in confusion and on edge before their eyes drifted to the stage, watching as a woman flanked by two other women walked onto the stage.

A rounder woman stood at the center of the small stage, her brown skin glowing under the dim lantern lights. Her curls were pinned up with only a few strands loose, framing her face. She was dressed in a fitted, off-the-shoulder gown, the color a deep blue and she swayed as she sang, her voice filling the saloon with raw emotion.

“Break them chains and shackles,

Ain’t no man gon’ hold me down…”

The crowd was captivated, hanging onto every note. Some clapped along, others lifted their glasses in admiration, and a few swayed, lost in the song’s spell.

The rhythmic thumping continued, echoing through the saloon like a heartbeat. It wasn’t just the sound of boots against wood—it was deliberate, steady, almost ceremonial. The two women flanking the singer clapped their hands in time, their movements graceful yet firm, adding to the weight of the moment.

“Storm may come, but I won’t tremble,

Gonna walk on free somehow…”

The entire saloon seemed to be under her spell. Even the most hardened outlaws and whiskey-soaked gamblers paused their games, their attention drawn to the woman commanding the room with nothing but her voice.

“Go on, Fluffy!” Someone called from the crowd, a man tapping his boot against the wooden floor in rhythm with her voice.

The men couldn’t deny the effect of her heavenly voice, captivating their attention as well, moving spirits they each thought they lost long ago. Nat’s fingers drummed lightly against the table, his expression unreadable. While David, Jim, and even Bill and Terry leaned forward in interest, watching the curvy woman. Drawn in by both the music and the presence of the women on stage.

David watched, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Now that is a voice.” He murmured, his admiration clear as he looked the woman up and down, her size and closet making her chest pop in a whole new way.

Terry nodded in agreement, eyes locked on, as the crowd called her, Fluffy. “Yeah… and a whole lot more.” He added, ignoring the way his companions all eyed him at his out-of-character statement.

Fluffy’s voice soared into the final verse, and for a moment, the entire saloon seemed to hold its breath. Even those deep in their drinks or their poker games turned to watch her, drawn in by the depth of her voice, the weight of her song. As she finished, the room erupted into cheers and applause. Fluffy beamed, taking a small bow before stepping back from the mic. The band behind her kept playing, transitioning into a livelier tune, but all eyes were still on her as she made her way down from the stage.

Honey eyed them all as she made her way back over with their drinks on a tray, following their eyes to her sister who mingled with the band. Still chewing on her toothpick, she smirked at the obvious intrigue they all showed. “Yeah, Fluffy tends to have that effect on people.” She said, catching all of their attention. “But careful now. She might sing sweet, but she’s got more bite than bark. Girls’ mouth is foul.” She told them as she sat the drinks at the table.

“I can handle that.” Jim scoffed, causing the woman to raise a brow at the back of his head since none of the women took their eyes off Fluffy. Well, not Nat and Bill, who eyed the woman giving them drinks. “Okay, hotshot. Go for it.” She scoffed at him, amusement clear in the small grin she held. And Jim, ever the opportunist, wasted no time in standing when Fluffy made her way over to the bar. “That was real nice.” He called out, his signature smirk in place once he caught her attention. “Real nice.”

Fluffy’s eyes landed on him, slowing down her trek only slightly as she made her way to the bar, and for a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then, slowly, her smirk matched his. “That right?” She called back, tilting her head at him.

“Sure is.” Jim drawled, tipping his hat. “Got a voice that could make a man rethink all his sins.”

Fluffy let out a soft chuckle, grabbing the closest drink in sight, that she was lucky to be the water Homey sat out prior, and then backed away from the counter with effortless grace. “And you look like a man with plenty of ‘em.” She told him, placing her hands on her hips.

David nearly choked on his drink, while Terry and Billie tried to hide their amusement by holding their heads down. Even Nat cracked a small smile.

Jim placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Now that ain’t fair. That ain’t fair at all. You don’t even know me yet.” He said, a fake pout on his lips, his cinnamon stick still sticking out his plump lips.

Fluffy, now standing just a few feet away, raised a brow. “Yet? How ‘bout not at all, scrub.” She said, then turning on her heel and walking away from him. David and Terry choked on their laughs while Jim gaped at the woman.

Honey, who had made her way over to the bar as they talked, was now standing behind the bar. She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “What’d I tell ya?” She said before letting out a small laugh and going back to fix more drinks.

Suga then came back from the back and looked a tad agitated with her hands on her hips. “Can’t find Cotton’s behind nowhere. That girl is never in the spot you leave her in.” She grumbled to Honey she came a stole at the bar. The bartender just cleaned cups, looking at her sister with a call face.

“What’d you need Cotton for?” She asked.

“I needed her to check these men in for a room tonight. She’s the one who always does it.” Suga stated.

“And why can’t you do it?” Honey asked, her tone annoyingly calm for the younger girl's liking, causing Suag to squint her eyes at the woman. “Cause I ain’t done it before.” She said firmly.

“Why don’t you just try?”

“Why don’t you just try, huh? Since it’s oh, so, damn easy. It ain’t that simple, Heidi.” Suga spat, slamming her hands down on the counter a tad. That caused Honey to arch a brow at her, eyes turning stern. “Watch your tone, youngin’. Before I douse you in alcohol and throw you in the fire pit.” She said, pointing a finger at the girl. Suga just groaned, bringing out her youngest sister's attitude with the second oldest. She looked at her sister, unbeknownst, or not caring, to the group of men who subtly listened in now and then to their conversation.

“Can you just come help me? Just this once?” She begged. Honey sighed, setting down the cup she had been cleaning and shaking her head as she slapped the rag onto the counter. “Lord, you’re helpless.”

Suga huffed. “I ain’t helpless, I just ain’t done it before!”

Honey just rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. But you best pay attention, ‘cause I ain’t gon’ be doin’ this for you every time. This caused Suga to beam, grabbing Honey’s wrist and pulling her from behind the bar. The older sister shook her head but let her drag her along, her boots clicking against the worn wooden floors as they made their way toward the check-in area. Honey grabbed the book from the desk before moving back over to the group of men. “Follow me, get y'all settled in.” She said, offering them a polite smile as she nodded her head elsewhere. “Y’all got horses?” Honey asked, looking back at them.

Nat nodded.

She motioned for them to follow. “Come on, then. Stables are out back.”

The night had settled into a steady hum—distant music from the saloon, laughter from the streets, the occasional hoot of an owl. They walked the horses from across the road to the back of the saloon, the stables a good distance from the bar. The Sweet Tooth’s lanterns cast a golden glow over the dirt road as they made their way to the back, where the modest stable stood. The scent of hay and leather mixed with the lingering perfume of the saloon. The horses snorted softly as the men led them into the stables, their hooves thudding against the wooden floor.

Honey moved with practiced ease, unlatching the stable doors and gesturing for them to bring the horses in. “Y’all take that side.” She instructed, pulling her sleeves up. “Ain’t got no stable boys this late, so if you want ‘em fed and brushed, best get to it.” She stated, waiting for the men to lead their horses into the extra rooms available for them.

The men stood there for a moment, only sharing a glance before Honey crossed her arms, watching them with an amused tilt of her head. “Y’all ever put up your own horses before, or you just let the stable boys do it for ya?” She mused, a smirk playing on her lips.

Jim, always the first to have something to say, scoffed as he led his horse inside. “Course we know how to put up our own damn horses. Just ain’t used to bein’ told to do it by a lady.” He stated, shrugging as if it was some simple thought as he looked over at her, still chewing on that same stick of cinnamon. The men, one by one, eased their trusted animals into the available resting spot for the night.

Honey let out a short laugh. “Well, ain’t that a shame? Guess y’all better get used to it ‘round here.” She said, causing Suga to grin as she watched the men put the animals away. David chuckled under his breath, watching as Jim rolled his eyes but got to work. Nat, ever the quiet observer, led his own horse inside without a word, his sharp eyes noting the ease with which Honey moved.

“You run this place, then?” He spoke up and asked, his voice low and even but ever curious.

Honey glanced over at him as she softly kicked a bale of hay next to one of the stalls, mentally reminding herself to move it if Cotton didn’t. “Nah. That’s Cotton’s job. But between me and Suga, we do our best to make sure it don’t fall apart.”

Terry, brushed down his horse with steady strokes from a spare brush he picked up, looking over at her with a small smirk. “And where exactly is this Cotton?”

Honey sighed, pushing the stray curls from her halo braid from her face. “That’s the million-dollar question, ain’t it?” She grinned and then looked toward the saloon as if expecting Cotton to materialize. “Girl’s like a ghost when she wanna be.”

Before she could be questioned further, Jim spoke up, grinning loudly in the dead of night within the hollow stable. “Don’t think I ever had to work for a bed before.” Jim sighed, shaking his head as he ran a hand down his horse’s neck.

Honey grinned, catching his words as she leaned against one of the stable doors. “Ain’t too used to takin’ orders from women either. Well, welcome to Sugar Cane Creek.” She said.

They were just finishing up when the sharp clang of metal rang out, followed by the scrape of buckets rolling across the dirt. “Who’s supposed to be watchin’ the bar and servin’ drinks if you two are back here?” Instinct kicked in—the men straightened, hands twitching toward holsters that weren’t there. Suga and Honey quickly turned from where they stood, Suga opened one of the stable doors to cover her vulnerable sun was shots were fired while Honey gripped the gun hidden in the back of her dress, her tucked shirt riding up.

A figure stood at the entrance to the stable, framed by the lantern light and the shadows of the night. It was a woman, dressed in fitted brown trousers, a crisp white blouse, and a matching leather vest. A hat sat atop her head, casting a slight shadow over her striking features. Her stance was confident, hands were perched on her hips, her sharp eyes scanning the scene. She stepped further into the stables, showing how a single brow arched high as she looked between Suga and Honey expectantly. The lantern light cast a golden glow over her smooth brown skin, and though her stance was firm, there was a hint of amusement in her sharp gaze.

Suga’s slight pains turned into familiarity, a bright smile appearing on her typically bubbly face. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.

“Yeah, you know this place don’t run well without you, Cotton.” Honey teased.

The woman scoffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t play with me, Suga and Honey. You know damn well I was tendin’ to the ranch at Mama’s. Now who’s keepin’ the Sweet Tooth runnin’ while y’all out here flirtin’ and playing table hands?”Her voice was smooth yet firm, carrying over the stableyard like a whip crack. There was something different about her compared to her sisters—less sugar, more steel.

Honey sighed. “Ain’t nobody playin’.” She said.

“And ain’t nobody flirtin’,” Suga added, glancing over at the men. “We’re just settlin’ these gentlemen in.”

At the mention of gentlemen, the woman’s gaze flicked toward the group, scanning them with a quick, practiced sweep. And then let out a dry chuckle, shifting her weight onto one hip. “Oh, really? ‘Cause from what I see, you got a whole mess of men out here playin’ stable boy while the saloon runs damn near itself.”

Jim, never one to miss an opportunity, stepped forward with an easy grin. “Now, I wouldn’t say we’re playin’, miss. Just followin’ orders.” His voice was all honeyed charm, his grin even more so.

The woman arched a brow, unimpressed. “That right?” She turned her gaze to Honey, who merely shrugged. “They needed a place to sleep. No stable boys this late. Seemed only fair they work for it.”

David stepped forward, sensing this was the infamous name they’d been hearing all night. “That you, Miss Cotton?” He asked curiously, eyeing the woman up and down from the stable she stood directly next to, causing her to turn her head and look him up and down. She then met his gaze without hesitation. “Depends. Who’s askin’?” She questioned, quirking a brow at him

Jim, never one to pass up a chance to charm, took a step forward with his best smile. “Jim Beckwourth, at your service.” He gave a small bow as he took his hat off his head. “And might I just say, Miss Cotton, you wear them trousers better than any man I’ve ever seen.”

Cotton only let pout a faux amused hum as she tilted her head at him. “I’m sure you say that to every woman in pants, Mr.Beckworth.”

“I don’t,” Jim replied smoothly. “Only the ones that take my breath away.”

Suga snorted behind her hand while Honey rolled her eyes. “Good Lord.” She scoffed. Cotton, however, remained unimpressed, though there was the slightest twitch at the corner of her eyes as she sized the man up. She then stepped closer, looking Jim up and down with a slow, deliberate gaze before nodding once.

“Hm. That so?” She drawled, before reaching out and tapping the brim of his hat with a single finger. “Well, Mr. Beckwourth, I reckon you best hold onto that breath of yours. You’re gonna need it if you plan on keepin’ up ‘round here.”

Jim’s grin widened. “That a challenge?”

“It’s a fact,” Cotton stated firmly with a smirk. She then hummed a small tune, tapping a finger against her arm as she glanced around at the scene—half-groomed horses, saddles still slung over posts, and a handful of outlaws looking more amused than weary. “Hmph. Well, I’ll take it from here, dear sisters.” She said, walking over to her sinking and taking the reservation book from Honey’s hands. “Thank you, Heidi, Susanna.” She said, a fake smile on her face as she looked between them while the men’s eyes widened some at the revelation of them all being related.

Honey rolled her eyes at the use of her full name. “Don’t start, Cotton.”

Cotton, now properly named, let out a scoff as she shook her head. “Already did.” Then, with a nod toward the men, she tipped her hat. “Let’s go get you brothas settled in properly, shall we?” She said, nodding over to the saloon before she turned on her heel, leading the way back inside and expecting them to follow.

Suga let out a low whistle as the group watched the woman walk away, staying to help the men finish putting the animals up before following after Cotton. “She always knew how to make an entrance.” She said, placing her hands on her hips as her dress swayed in the nightly breeze, more so speaking to her sister next to her, but Jim chimed in from behind the pair as the group followed the woman back in.

“Can’t say I mind it all too much.” He said his grin still in place. David, who had been quietly observing the exchange, let out a small chuckle. “Think we know why she’s the one actually runnin’ things ‘round here.”

Honey scoffed at them, flashing a quick look behind her, but she didn’t deny it. “Y’all done gawkin’ or you need a few more minutes?” She asked, speaking to the main paper that seemed to be on one all night.

Jim continued to smirk, twisting the flavorful fired plant in his mouth. “Guess that depends. You got more sisters hidin’ ‘round here?” He asked, quirking a brow at her. Honey simply narrowed her eyes at him before turning away from them again. “Stable’s done for now. Y’all can come inside if you know how to behave.” She said, eyeing the younger pair of men behind her before opening the doors back into the establishment. Suga snorted, nudging her sister on her way in as they all followed her back into the saloon. “That’s a big if.”

The women led them over to the bar, where Cotton was behind the counter, second a few drinks. She looked up at the movement in her peripheral, catching the group enter. She slid a drink down the counter to a waiting man before setting the dish rag down and then grabbing the reservations book, walking from behind the counter. 

She moved with an air of authority, her hat now gone to show her long white patch of hair at the front of her hair. It was divided into two sections down the middle and going down either side of her face into the two long braids she had going down her back. The unique silver color for a woman her age was setting her apart as much as the tailored vest and trousers she wore instead of a dress. She had a gun strapped to her hip, and two holstered to her back, but it wasn’t just for show—every man in that saloon could see it.

She stopped just a few steps from the table, one hand resting on her hip as she took them all in, her dark eyes sharp and assessing. “How many rooms yall need?”

“Five,” Nat answered. “Just for the night.”

Cotton clicked her tongue, glancing toward the book she held before looking back up at them. “Ain’t got five rooms, but I got three. Two of y’all will have to share.” She stated, her tone leaving no room for disagreement.

Jim and David immediately turned to look at each other, their expressions mirroring the same silent conversation—not it.

“I’ll bunk with Bill,” Terry offered softly, to which Bill simply nodded. Cotton gave a satisfied nod. “Payment’s due upfront. No exceptions. 25 cents a night. She stated. Nat pulled a small pouch from his coat, dropping it onto the table. Cotton took it without hesitation, weighing it in her hand before tucking it away. “Rooms are upstairs. Suga’ll show you to ‘em.” She said. She stared at them for a moment, her flickering over all of them before offering her first smile since she’d met them.

“Enjoy your stay in Sugar Cane Creek, boys.” She smiled. “And just watch yourself with the women in this here establishment. Don’t want to start no trouble where there don’t need to be nun’.” She stated, her smile turning tense before disappearing right before their eyes. “And I don’t quite have the patience for that.” She sneered.

Jim placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “Trouble? Us? Never.” He said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. Cotton, however, wasn’t amused. She just blinked at them. “Y’all keep yourselves in line.” She murmured before turning on her heel to face the two women behind her.

“And you doves can get back to work. This ain’t no social hour.” She said.

Suga rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, ma’am.” She said as she watched her oldest sister walk away, leaving her to get the men settled in.

“Now that’s a woman,” Jim stated firmly. “I think I’m in love.” He said, watching Cotton walk away from them. David leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose, his eyes on the woman as well. “I like this place.”

Terry simply sighed. “You think that every time you meet a woman with a sharp tongue and a pretty face.”

Jim just chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Yeah, but this time, I really mean it.”Nat just chuckled, shaking his head. It was going to be an interesting night.

They all stood from their seats, downing the last of their drinks and following the young woman up the stairs. She led the men up across the room, the beginning of the steps near the stage. The stairs were large and sort of grand for just a saloon, but The Sweet Tooth was different to begin with, starting out with how big it was.

The wood did creak under their weight, however, Suga’s purple dress swaying with each step as she jingled the keys in her hand, drawing the attention of the group of men behind her, almost putting them in a trance.

“Alright, gentlemen, listen up.” She called over her shoulder as they reached the second floor. The hall was sort of like a balcony, with large pillars holding most of the upstairs view from the people down below, but the view from up top gave them a wide angle of the casino. She stopped in the dimly lit hallway, motioning toward the doors ahead.

“This hall here holds rooms three, four, and five.” She handed a key to Nat, another to Bill, and the last to Jim, who twirled it between his fingers with an easy grin. The small metal objects each had a plated tag hanging off of it, showcasing the room number that was also welded on the door. “Y’all are payin’ twenty-five cents a night, no exceptions. If you plan on stayin’ longer, I suggest you pay upfront, ‘cause once the room’s claimed, it’s claimed.” She began before along again, leading them closer to their abodes for the night.

She gestured toward the first door on the left, room three. “Room three’s got two beds, room four’s got two as well, and room five’s got one. If y’all want coffee and breakfast in the mornin’, you’ll either have to take a walk over to The Velvet Spur across the road, they serve food for a price. Or you can head over to Poundcake’s. That’s the diner ‘bout five doors down from here.” She folded her arms, turning around and glancing between them. “Any questions?” She asked sweetly.

David nodded toward the far end of the hall. “What about baths?”

Suga grinned. “You lookin’ to soak or just rinse off?”

David exhaled through his nose, amused. “Preferably soak.” He said, a small hitch in his brow as he looked at the woman.

“Then you’ll have to take yourself down to the bathhouse. Across the way, ‘bout a block down. They got heated water if you’re willin’ to pay extra. But if all you need is a quick rinse, we got a pump out back. Cold as hell, but it’ll do the trick.“

Jim scoffed. “Cold water don’t suit me.” He said, looking the woman up and down. Suga just fluttered her lashes at him as she blinked. “Well, lucky for you, Mr. Beckwourth, I don’t recall askin’.” Suga flashed a playful grin before nodding toward the doors. “Now, go on. Y’all smell like road dust and bad decisions.” She sighed wistfully before moving past them, her sweet scent trailing behind as she disappeared from their vicinity. Jim watched the woman walk away, a mischievous glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

The men chuckled as they made their way into their respective rooms. The accommodations were simple but clean—wooden bed frames with thick quilts, a small writing desk, a half bath, and a washbasin in the corner. Though room five, the one David got lucky choosing, had a bath and tub available for him to use. Looks like he landed himself in the couples' suite.

They didn’t waste much time settling in, only taking a moment to stash their bags and pull their weapons from the box those men carried in earlier. They barely had a moment to breathe before a sharp bang rang out from downstairs, the sound of something slamming, followed by the unmistakable sound of a bell being rung inside the saloon.

All five men froze, their hands instinctively going toward their guns. They all rushed out of their rooms, looking over the balcony and into the busy bottom floor, which now stopped what they were doing, looking around and waiting for the bell to stop ringing.

The music halting and the chatter dying made them able to hear the sound of rapid footsteps pounding against the floorboards outside. The door burst open, and a young boy came bursting through the saloon doors, huffing and puffing with his hat in his hands. “Crimson Hoods.”He warned. “Coming in fast.”

The air in the saloon shifted. Voices hushed even more. Everything was still for a moment, among them able to hear the distant sound of hives hitting the ground. This caused Cotton to sigh, coming from behind the bar. “You know the drill. Get to it.” She stated firmly. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it carried through the room like a command, settling into every ear and spine.

And that was all it took.

Chairs scraped against the floor as men pushed back from their tables, downing the last swigs of their drinks before moving swiftly to their places. Guests were led to the back while the workers at the gambling tables grabbed the weapons attached to their person and from under chairs and tables. Some headed for the windows, peeking through the curtains, while others took up positions near other entrances. The saloon moved like a well-oiled machine, each person knowing their role without hesitation. The gamblers armed themselves swiftly, drawing weapons from hidden holsters, under tables, and from inside waistbands.

The piano player shut the lid over the keys and stepped aside, revealing a shotgun tucked neatly beneath the bench. One of the assistant bartenders slipped a pistol from under the counter, checking the chamber before setting it within reach.

Women, too, moved with purpose. A few waitresses strolled toward the back halls, guiding guests and working girls away from the main floor, while others stationed themselves behind furniture, weapons discreetly in hand, from knives to revolvers. The Sweet sisters were no exception—Honey pulled a sawed rifle from behind the bar, Fluffy nicked up her dress and unstrapped the large knife from her thigh, and Suga grabbed the two pistols from Cotton's back holsters as she passed, spinning the chamber before snapping it shut. And Cotton sat the shit fun she has by the door, another two pistols at her for a quick draw.

Upstairs, the men exchanged looks. It was clear this wasn’t the first time Sugar Cane Creek had braced itself for a fight. And it seemed that they had led trouble right to their doorstep.

“Well,” Bill muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Guess unwindin’ will have to wait. He sighed before beginning to walk off towards the stairs. Nat was already moving with him, his expression grim. “Let’s go.” He grumbled. Without hesitation, the rest of the gang followed, boots thudding against the worn wooden floors as they made their way downstairs. “This is one hell of a welcome,” Bill muttered, pressing his lips into an impressed smirk, the thrill of it all thudding in his heart.

The Sweet sisters stood at the door, Cotton giving orders to the men that lingered while Honey and Suga flanked each side of the swinging entrance. “Ajei, Dezba, I want you to upstairs in my office by the window, don’t be seen and shoot on my whistle.” She commanded the two Native dealers, dressed in crisp white shirts, black vests, and slacks, to give her a curt nod before moving. “Let Charles and Sanford know you’re there.” She said, referring to snipers stationed on her roof.

She then turned to the large men who stopped them on their way in. “Gordo, Rito, I want you two to walk out with me when they touch down.” She stated as she moved over to the door, the butt of her shotgun dragging against the ground. And then she stood there, fingers wrapped around her gun. Her sisters stood on either side of the door while Gordo and Rito stationed themselves behind her.

A thick silence then fell over the saloon, making the sound of thudding hooves loud as they got closer and closer. The new group of men all looked at one another, watching as the situation seemed to be going a bit smoothly without them. But they needed to step in. Those hoods were there for them, probably being trailed far back, and led them right into Sugar Cane Creek.

They heard the hooves approaching, the thunderous sound echoing within the quiet bar before they began to come to a halt. The silence in the saloon was thick enough to choke on, broken only by the slow, steady thudding of hooves against packed dirt. The Crimson Hoods were close now. Too close.

Nat and his gang exchanged looks, understanding passing between them without words. This situation was running smoothly without their interference—for now. But they knew damn well that those men weren’t here for the Sweet family. No, they had to have been trailed. Led those rough necks right into Sugar Cane Creek. Nat exhaled sharply through his nose, glancing at his men before giving a firm nod. Time to move.

Once their hooves finally decided to decent slowly, Cortton nodded her head at the drop that surrounded her. Honey and Suga tightened their grip on their weapons while Gordo and Rito pushed the doors open, moving to step outside before their boss did. The air was tight with tension, thick and heavy like the humidity before a storm. There was a long moment of silence before Cotton decided to make her move. She stepped out onto the creaking porch, the only sound slicing through the silence was the slow, deliberate thump of Cotton’s rifle against wooden boards as she strode forward, her boots clicking against the dusty and dried porch.

There they were. The Crimson Hoods, sat still on their horses, a dozen shadowy figures cloaked in deep red. The leader at the front made a show of dismounting once the woman walked out, his movements unhurried, almost lazy. A few of the gang members staggered, trying to follow the man. The supposed ring leader yanked the sack off his head, revealing a smirk stretched across sharp features, the silver gleam of his gills catching in the dim lantern light.

Red Benny.

His name carried weight across parts of the West, whispered in places where men feared to speak too loud. A man who lived for the thrill of conquest, for the chaos his gang carved into the land like a hot knife through butter. For the riches, he’d blow in the same hour of obtaining them.

Cotton squared her shoulders, rifle still in hand but not yet raised. She knew better than to move first.

“Evenin’, Miss Sweet.” Benny drawled, his voice a slow, smooth rasp, like whiskey rolling over jagged rocks. “Ain’t this a fine night?” He asked with a sly grin. Cotton’s expression didn’t waver, her stare locked into his while her men eyed the others next to her. “Depends on who you ask.” She deadpanned as she owned the weight of her gun.

Benny chuckled, shaking his head as he took a bold step forward. The men around him stayed still, waiting for a cue. Neither did Cotton’s men, only soaking the men under her scrutinizing gaze a glance, before focusing on the masked men behind him.

“Now, now,” Benny said, spreading his hands wide as if to show how harmless he was. “No need to be so tense. We’re just passin’ through.”

Cotton’s fingers flexed over the muzzle of her rifle, jaw flexing as she stared down at the man. “Funny thing, Benny. I’ve heard that before, right before a town wound up burned to the ground.” She sighed, moving herself to lean her weight off the large gun and stand firm on her feet, eyes unmoving from his frame. “And that won’t be happening here, boy.”

Benny clicked his tongue, just as a fire lit in his eyes, something full of rage and hatred in them. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

The woman simply let out a small scoff from her place at the center of the porch, moving the rest of her gun on her shoulder. Her movements caused some of the men behind him to reach for their weapons. But Benny quickly held up his hands, signaling them to stop. Cotton simply arched a brow at the bold men behind Benny, not an ounce of fear showing on her at the potential death that almost happened. “Ain’t nobody ever been sweet on you, Benny. And I damn sure won’t be the one to start.”

His grin widened, making his annoyance and bitterness with faux amusement. “That so?” He questioned. Cotton just stared at him, quirking a brow due to the timing since that followed, wanting to see his next movie or he could move on. He let his gaze drift, wiping his nose as his eyes caught the sight of hats moving inside. His eyes landed briefly on the shadows behind the saloon’s swinging doors, where more figures lurked. Cotton’s expression remained unreadable, but the weight of her stare was heavy, unrelenting. The way Benny spoke, all slow and measured, trying to put on that boyish charm, only made her grip her rifle a little tighter.

Then, finally, his eyes flicked toward Cotton’s rifle, still at her side.

“I think you may have something of ours in that saloon of yours, that’s all.” The man said, trying to put on this innocent act while he stalled, only building up the irritation within her. Nat stood near the entrance of the saloon, not even tensing at the man’s mention of his crew, his arms folded as he watched Cotton work. He wasn’t one to intervene in another gunslinger’s standoff unless he had to, and right now? Cotton had it handled, but this was just as much as his fight. And if Benny or his boys so much as twitched the wrong way, Nat’s hand was already hovering near his holster.

Cotton tilted her head slightly. “That so?” She asked, though the infliction in her voice never chanted, bland and dry as ever.

Benny nodded, taking another slow step forward. He was near easy up the steps, making Cotton grip the rule tighter while she discreetly signaled to her sisters at the door with a flick of her finger. “Couple of fellas we was trailing a while ago, we lost ‘em. But then for works pretty quickly that they’d turned up here. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?” He questioned with a quick tilt of his head and a shrug.

Cotton gave a dry chuckle, her free hand settling on her hip. “Sugar Cane Creek ain’t in the business of harborin’ rats, Benny. If somebody’s here, it’s ‘cause they paid their dues, and that means they got my protection.” She let the words hang in the air, firm and final. David watched quietly, eyes steady on the scene unfolding outside. He hadn’t been in Cane Creek long, but he had learned fast—when Cotton spoke, people listened. She’s got control over this entire town, and she don’t even have to raise her voice. He admired that. A show of force wasn’t always necessary, but Cotton could pull the trigger just as easy as she could talk a man into his grave. And if this went south? He’d be ready.

Benny let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his chin before giving her a look that was equal parts amused and frustrated. “Now, see, that’s the thing about you Sugar Creek folks. Always so hospitable.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “But sometimes, a good host knows when it’s best to hand over the unwanted guests.” He finished, his jaw clenching near the end of his tangent in agitation.

Cotton rolled her shoulders, letting her weight shift. She glanced at Gordo and Rito beside her, simply blinking at the two men as she pretended to think what she was going to say to him. She caught sight of stragglers hiding, people peeking out of their blinds while the bold, eyed them from around corners. It seemed as if the entire town was watching, waiting, breathing in sync with her.

“I don’t take kindly to folks ridin’ up in my town, throwin’ threats at my doorstep,” Cotton said, voice dropping low. “You and your boys may not be outnumbered, Benny. But what you lack in skill and all-around intelligence, well, you see, I make up for it. Ten times over, matter a fact. In this town, and the next. And, quite frankly, any damn town I step my foot into.” She hissed. “Now…” She began, taking a few steps forward and looking down at the man below the steps, the wind blowing dust on the path he stood on. “You sure you wanna see how that plays out?” She asked with a quirk of her brow.

Ans for the first time, Benny’s smirk wavered, his facade cracking under her hard gaze. She caught just a flicker of something calculating behind his eyes, catching the small twitch in his jaw, a tell to his irritation. She knew she got to him. And he knew Cotton wasn’t bluffing. The Sweet family ran Sugar Cane Creek tight, and a fight here wouldn’t be a fair one, and it wouldn’t be one that ended.

Still, the ever egotistical man that he was, he pretended. He had a reputation to uphold.

His smirk turned into something sharper.

“So,” He murmured, voice still deceptively light, “What’s it gonna be, Miss Sweet? You gonna let us on through and take what we owe, or are we gonna have ourselves a little dance?”

Cotton let the moment as she quirked a brow at his suddenly, allowing Benny to sit in his own impatience, and stupidity for the way going to regret acting tomorrow morning.

Her eyes flicked from him to the men behind him, her eyes squinting in the blowing wind as they all stood still as statues, their hands resting near their weapons. The whole town was waiting, listening. Even the wind seemed to hush, as if afraid to stir the wrong way.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Cotton exhaled through her nose and took one more step forward, standing at the very edge of the porch. Her rifle still rested against her shoulder, but the weight of her stare alone might as well have been a bullet.

“You ain’t owed a damn thing.” She annunciated slowly, voice smooth as warm honey but hard as the steel barrel of her gun, raising a bit as she reached her peak. “Not by me, not by this town.”

Benny’s smirk tightened, but his fingers twitched at his side. He wasn’t used to being told no.

Cotton just tilted her head slightly, her tone turning mocking as she continued. “You said you lost ‘em. So tell me, Benny, how’s that my problem?” She asked, blinking at him.

Benny chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Y’see, that’s the thing, Miss Sweet. I don’t like losin’ things. And when I do, I tend to get ‘em back—one way or another.”

Cotton’s lips barely twitched. “That a threat?”

“Ain’t a threat if it’s a promise.”

The town was holding its breath now. Cotton could practically feel her sisters at her back, feel the tension thickening in the air like a storm rolling in.

She clicked her tongue. “Well, then, let me make you a promise, Benny.” She lowered her rifle from her shoulder, resting the butt against her hip, one hand still wrapped around the barrel. “You take one step further, and I put your black ass in the dirt where you stand.” She spat.

Benny stilled.

The men behind him straightened.

Cotton didn’t move an inch.

Then, Benny exhaled through his nose, a slow, sharp breath, before he finally took a step back. He glanced once more at the saloon doors, catching nothing. Then at the eyes peering through windows, at the large men flanking Cotton. His jaw worked as he mulled it over.

But before he could make a decision, Cotton let out a slow, lilting whistle, the sound carrying in the wind.

Then—chaos.

It all happened in a blink. A loud shot rang out, and the man fell to the ground with a sharp pain shooting through his right arm. Benny screamed in anguish as the searing heat bobbled up his arm. He barely processed what he felt and what had happened before another shot tore into his other arm. But his loud exclamations of pure pain were unheard over the cries from the other men as the sniper's bullets howled they found their marks with the rest of the Crimson Hoods.

Benny fell to the ground at the pain, wailing at the top of his lungs at the hot bullets felt as if they boiled under his skin. Cotton slowly descended the steps, her cold eyes trained on the screaming man on the ground as he bled out, her boots slow and measured against the wooden steps until they hit the dirt road.

Controlled chaos ensued around them, Honey and Suga popping out from behind the doors and shooting at hoods that tried to run or pull out their weapons, gunfire cracking through the air. Nat and his gang followed—their fastest gunslingers, David and Jin, moving like shadows, their revolvers striking true. Terry and Bill picked their shots with lethal precision, their rifles sending men to the dust with every pull of the trigger. Nat himself moved like a man with nothing to lose, his pistol barking in his hand.

Cotton stood over Benny, who writhed in the dirt, clutching at his bloody arms, looking down at him as he cried out in anguish. It wasn’t long before gunfire quieted and pains turned back into silence. The last of the Crimson Hoods either lay dead or had fled into the night with injuries they wouldn’t survive. The town, once holding its breath, now released it in a tense, waiting silence.

Save for the lead man, who was now bleeding with the rest of his fallen soldiers. Cotton only looked up from the man when caught the sounds of pleading from next to her, looking over to see David pressing the barrel of his gun to the last man standing. She cast a sharp whistle to catch his attention. When he glanced at her, she shook her head. “Not him.” She said, and David didn’t argue, while she didn’t explain before looking back down at the infamous Red Benny.

“Now you know not to ever try me again.” She stated, not caring if the man heard her over his own screams, Her voice was calm, nearly bored.

She blinked at him. Then, without hesitation, she shot him in the leg. Benny emitted a loud cry.

Cotton barely blinked before turning her attention to the last remaining Crimson Hood. She walked up to him, yanking the burlap sack from his head before gripping his jaw, her fingers digging into his skin until he winced.

“You take him. Take that horse.” She nodded toward the wounded Benny and the tethered stallion nearby, most of the others either running away or dying in the line of fire of the man brawl. “And you get the hell up outta here. I see—or even hear either of your names—I’ll kill you slow.” She spat. The man frantically nodded, causing Cotton to push his face away from her hands. She watched as the man scrambled and gathered Benny and the horse as best as he could ride off, the woman not turning away until she couldn’t see them and could no longer hear Benny’s cries.

Cotton waited until they were gone before she turned, dusting her hands off onto her pants. She then took off her hat to smooth down the front pieces of her hair that came up, her silver money pieces giving her an odd sense of youth. Once straightened, she turned on her heels. “Somebody come clean this shit up!” She called out, stepping back into the saloon without so much as a glance at her family and newfound allies.

The town was still, silent in the aftermath. The only sounds left were the soft clinking of spent shells on the blood-streaked dirt and loud crickets from the forest near yonder.

Jin twirled his revolvers once before sliding them back into their holsters, looking at her walk away with something between respect and amusement. “Ain’t never seen a woman put a man down that quick and still have time to fix her hair after.” He said, admiration somewhat in his tone.

Cotton didn’t respond. She just stepped past them. The moment she crossed the threshold, the tension in her shoulders loosened—but only just. She wasn’t done yet. Inside, the saloon was eerily quiet. People had ducked behind tables, cowered near the walls, or simply frozen in place, waiting to see how the night would end. Her men unstationed themselves, putting their smoking guns down at the sight of no more danger.

Cotton closed her eyes as she rolled her neck, the weight of the night settling in, but she didn’t let it show. Gin still in hand, she walked straight to the bar, grabbed an empty glass, and poured herself a shot of whiskey with steady hands.

She threw it back in one smooth motion before slamming the glass on the counter. Then, without looking, she called out, “We got about ten minutes before more folks come snoopin’. Y’all best start cleanin’ up.” Knowing that her sisters and their new friends had followed her inside, all in a state of limbo at what just occurred.

Honey was the first to move, stepping in and surveying the damage with a nod. “I’ll get someone to strip the bodies for what they have, Gordo and Rito will move them.” She said, already heading for the door again.

Suga clicked her tongue, lazily wiping down the counter as if that would somehow erase the tension still lingering in the air. “Guess that means me and the girls are on blood duty.” She pouted a little, referring to the other waitresses at the bar.

This caused Fluffy to smack her lips, cutting her eyes at her sister. “So I’m on graveyard duty? Again?” She asked, holding her hands on her hips. “My digging clothes are dirty.” She added. Cotton, who had just thrown back another shot, slammed the glass down with a dull thunk. She turned to Fluffy, unimpressed. “Good, ‘cause they’re just gonna get filthy again. Now take four of them men and get to it.” She said, nodding her head over to the working men of the bar. None of the women even had to ask, they didn’t even have to speak, before four of them jumped into action, heading out to the stables to grab supplies to get to digging a mass grave out back.

Once the women left to do their duties for the night, Cotton took one last shot before looking around at the customers who still lingered. “Y’all ain’t gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell up outta here.” She stated, causing the non-staying customers to hurry and scurry out of the saloon, not even caring about the money they left behind for the establishment to take.

Outside, the scraping of boots against dirt and the hushed whispers of those still brave enough to linger filled the air.

Cotton looked over at the group of men who seemed to be nothing but trouble, but she knew tonight wasn’t entirely their fault. Her eyes were back to their dull and unimpressed glint, rhetorical hatred, and quiet anger she felt earlier not in sight. She looked between them before simply blinking. “Welcome to Sugar Cane Creek, this is the Sweet Tooth and I hope you enjoy your stay.” She said, offering the most subtle polite smile before making her way upstairs and down a hall on the opposite side of the saloon, disappearing for the night.

The group of unfamiliar men might’ve been watching before, admiring the beauties The Creek had to offer, but now they knew.

Sugar Cane Creek wasn’t just a town.

It was her town.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG SAW UR ASKS WERE OPEN AND I RAN SO FAST HFJDJSBS

Anyways ok so imagine *trips over my own feet* imagine uhm baking cookies *stumbling* baking cookies with Lilia:3

No pressure ofc! I hope u will enjoy writing this if u do! And make sure to drink after and take care of urself!

Flour Belongs In The Cookies; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some pining

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Cloudy, you do know how bad his cooking is, right? Besides that, I hope you enjoy what I did with this little prompt!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You knew full well going into this that Lilia … wasn’t the best person to leave around food. Well, you didn’t know to the full extent how ‘bad’, ‘revolting’, and ‘utterly cursed’ he was according to his dormmates (and adoptive family? Still trying to wrap your head around that one, to be honest). 

Yet, as you were both adding ingredients to the batch of cookies you were making, he had done nothing to tamper with the recipe or mess up by accident. Perhaps Silver, Sebek and Malleus were just overexaggerating it? Lilia has been completely fine, a great helper even! 

“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet (which was both comfortable yet awkward). “Why did you want to bake cookies with me? Not that I mind, just curious is all.”

Lilia looked up from the wet and dry ingredients he was combining and offered you a cheeky smile with a wink. “Hmm, do I need a reason to do so,” he breathed with a silent chuckle, sneaking some of the raw dough into his mouth.

You tutted, taking the bowl away from him. “I don’t need you getting sick from eating that now–”

But your attempt at lecturing was silenced by a small puff of flour being slapped gently on your cheek; a white handprint now on it. “RUDE!”

Lilia was having a good old laugh, from either getting flour on you, the shocked expression on your face, or a combination of the two (knowing him, it was bound to be the last one). He was actually getting pink in the face because of it; was he even taking breaks from laughing to breathe???

“Ah, lighten up! Plus,” he paused and covered your hand in flour and gently slapped it on his cheek, “there, we match now.” 

His magenta eyes were twinkling with mischief and you found yourself gently shaking your head and chuckling. Sighing, you picked up some flour with your hands and made it look like you were just going to cover the countertop with it, but you swerved, and slapped it into Lilia’s hair.

Lilia coughed, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flour out of his eyes, but once he opened them again, you were gone. So we’re playing games now? But he just wheezed in delight and gave chase, a cup full of flour on hand so he could repay the favour. After all, since you both had matching handprints on your cheeks, you deserved to be bestowed some flour on your head.

“And here you were saying it was rude of me for that first move,” he called out into the dorm. They couldn’t have gotten far now.

He heard the curtains ruffle, and he floated over, not making a sound.

Peaking oh so carefully behind the curtains, he spotted you, silently giggling to yourself. And that’s when he made his move.

“Found you!~” And he sprinkled the flour over your head; much more gently than you did to him.

You groaned, knowing it would take a bit to get the flour out from everything… but the way Lilia floated overhead made it look like he was sprinkling snow… was he always this pretty? Even with him covered in flour, you still felt your heart flutter.

You mentally slapped your cheeks though, and got yourself up. 

“Guess you did… but that was fun,” you chuckled, dusting yourself off to the best of your ability.

The moment though was ruined by your smoke alarm going off; it was a wonder that those even worked, but hey, at least they worked.

Rushing to the kitchen, you opened up the oven to have a mass of black smoke smelling of burnt food of some sort enveloping the both of you.

“What happened?!” You coughed out, trying to open up the windows and doors to let out the smoke.

Lilia grimaced, “Ah… perhaps I set the oven too high.”

And even though you had fun making the now coal-like cookies, perhaps store-bought would have been better…

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