Daiwa Scarlet's Birthday Present (Umamusume)

The office lights are dimmed, the last of the evening sun bleeding orange through the blinds. You've got the bottle of champagne chilling in the mini-fridge, a small cake on the corner of your desk, and the door locked. Everything is ready.

Daiwa Scarlet stands in the doorway, arms crossed, her hot pink eyes scanning the room with practiced suspicion. Her orange-red twintails cascade past her waist, the blue hairties catching what little light there is, and that tiara with its blue gem sits perfectly on her head. Two ahoges curl above her brow like exclamation marks.

"What's all this?" she asks, her voice carrying that familiar edge. But you catch it — the slight softening around her eyes, the way her tail gives a single involuntary flick.

"Birthday present," you say. "Come in."

She steps forward, boots clicking on the floor. Her uniform skirt rides up just a fraction as she moves, and you watch her thighs flex beneath the fabric. Scarlet catches you looking and her cheeks flush — that pink spreading across her face like sunrise.

"You could've just given me a gift certificate," she mutters, but she doesn't stop walking toward you.

"Close the door."

She hesitates. Then she reaches back and slides the lock into place with a quiet click.

The sound hangs in the air between you.

"So?" She plants her hands on her hips, chin lifted in that defiant way she has. "What's this big present, Trainer? It better be good. I'm not easy to impress."

You step closer. She doesn't back away.

"It's not something you can wrap in a box."

Her eyes narrow. "Then what—"

You kiss her.

For a second she goes rigid, her hands coming up to push against your chest. But the push never comes. Her fingers curl into your shirt instead, gripping the fabric like she's holding on to something she's been afraid to touch.

When you break the kiss, her lips are parted, her breath coming faster. Her hot pink eyes are wide, the black pupils dilated.

"That's..." She swallows. "That's not a proper birthday present."

"It's the beginning of one."

Her cheeks are on fire now. You can see the pulse beating in her throat, fast and hard. She opens her mouth — probably to say something sharp, something defensive — but what comes out is barely a whisper.

"What do you want from me?"

"Everything."

She shivers. Actually shivers, her whole body trembling for just a moment before she steels herself. But she doesn't look away.

"Then take it," she says, her voice cracking just slightly at the edges.

Your hands find her waist, sliding up under her blouse. Her skin is warm, soft, and when your thumbs brush the underside of her breasts through her bra, she gasps — a sharp, surprised sound that she immediately tries to swallow.

"Don't hold back," you tell her. "Not tonight."

"I'm not holding—" She cuts off as you unclip her bra through her blouse, the fabric going loose against her chest. "Bastard. You're too good at that."

"Years of practice."

"With who?" The jealousy flashes hot in her voice.

"With nobody. Just imagined it enough times."

That shuts her up. Her mouth opens, closes, opens again. Then she surges forward and kisses you, hard and hungry, her tongue sliding against yours before she pulls back, breathless.

"Take off my clothes," she demands. "I want to feel your hands on my skin. All of it."

You don't make her wait.

Her blouse goes first, buttons scattering across the floor. Her bra follows, sliding down her shoulders, and her breasts are bare — full and heavy, her nipples already hard and dark in the dim light. You cup them, thumbs circling the stiff peaks, and Scarlet moans, her head falling back.

You lower your mouth to her chest, taking one nipple between your lips. She gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you tighter against her as you suck and lick and bite gently. Her taste is salt and sweetness, her skin flushed and damp.

"More," she pants. "Don't stop."

Your free hand slides down her stomach, over the waistband of her skirt, and finds the heat between her thighs. She's already wet — you can feel it through her panties, the fabric soaked through.

"So ready for me," you murmur against her breast.

"Shut up." But her hips push into your hand. "Just — don't make me wait."

You hook your fingers into her panties and pull them down. They slide over the curve of her ass, past her thighs, and she steps out of them, kicking them aside. Her skirt pools at her feet a moment later, and then she's naked — completely bare except for her hair ribbons and her tiara.

She stands before you, chest heaving, her pussy glistening in the low light. Her thighs are slick, a trail of wetness running down the inside of one leg.

You sink to your knees.

"Trainer—" Her voice catches as you spread her thighs, as you lean in and breathe her in — the musky, sweet scent of her arousal flooding your senses.

Your tongue touches her clit.

Scarlet cries out, her hand slamming down on your desk for support. The cake rattles. She doesn't care.

You lick her slowly at first, savoring the taste of her — slick and hot and so fucking wet. Her hips buck against your mouth, and you grip her thighs, holding her steady as you work her clit with your tongue, circling, pressing, flicking.

"Oh god," she moans. "Oh god, Trainer, your tongue — don't stop, please don't stop—"

You slide two fingers into her.

She's tight — so tight and hot, her walls clenching around you immediately. She cries out, a broken sound, and her hand tightens in your hair, pulling hard enough to hurt.

"Pleasure me with your fingers," she demands, her voice ragged. "Make me come on your hand."

You curl your fingers, finding that rough patch of nerves inside her, and press your thumb against her clit. She screams — actually screams — and you feel her start to shake, her thighs trembling against your head.

"Come for me, Scarlet."

"I—I'm—" Her words dissolve into a moan as her orgasm rips through her, her body arching, her pussy clenching around your fingers in waves. You keep licking her through it, drawing out every pulse, every shudder, until she's gasping and pushing your head away, oversensitive.

You stand. Your cock is aching, hard and leaking against your pants.

Scarlet's eyes drop to your waist. She licks her lips.

"My turn," she says, and drops to her knees.

She unbuckles your belt with practiced speed, yanks your pants and boxers down, and your cock springs free. Her hand wraps around it, fingers barely meeting, and she looks up at you through her lashes — that defiant, hungry look.

She leans in, her tongue darting out to lick the tip. She tastes the precum, her eyes fluttering closed, and then she takes you into her mouth.

The heat of her — wet, tight, her tongue working the underside of your cock as she sinks lower, taking more of you. Her hand strokes what her mouth can't reach, and the sound of her sucking, the wet, obscene noise of it, fills the office.

"Scarlet..."

She hums around you, and the vibration nearly makes you come right there. Her head bobs, faster now, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks, and she looks up at you, those hot pink eyes watering, and she doesn't stop.

You pull her off before it's too late.

"Not yet," you say, your voice rough. "I want to be inside you when I cum."

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning — a wild, hungry grin. "Then put it in me."

You lift her onto the desk, sweeping the cake aside.

She lies back, her twintails spread across the wood, her tiara slightly askew. Her legs fall open, and her pussy is pink and wet, her clit swollen, her entrance glistening.

"Look at that," you say, positioning yourself between her thighs. "Look how wet you are for me."

"All for you," she breathes.

You push inside her.

The sound she makes — a choked, desperate moan — is the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. She's so tight, so hot, her walls gripping your cock as you sink deeper, inch by inch, until you're buried to the hilt.

"You're so big. You're so fucking big inside me", She gasps.

You pull out almost entirely and thrust back in. The desk shakes. Papers scatter. She cries out, her nails digging into your shoulders.

"Yes—yes—right there—"

You find a rhythm, fast and hard, your hips slapping against her thighs. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, and you lean down to take one in your mouth, sucking her nipple as you fuck her.

"Oh god, oh god, I'm gonna cum again—"

"Not yet." You slow your pace, drawing out agonizingly deep thrusts. "I want to feel you come on my cock. But I want to watch it happen."

She whimpers, a desperate sound. "Please—"

"Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"You." Her voice breaks. "It's yours. All yours, Trainer."

You drive into her, hard and fast, the desk sliding across the floor with the force of it. Her moans turn into screams, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper. The room fills with the sound of sex — wet, slapping, the creak of wood, her breathless cries.

"I'm close," she sobs. "I'm so close—"

"Come for me, Scarlet."

She shatters.

Her back arches, her mouth open in a silent scream, and you feel her pussy clench around your cock in violent pulses, milking you. The sight of her — her flushed skin, her twintails wild, her tiara knocked to the side — pushes you over the edge.

You pull out and come on her stomach, thick ropes of cum painting her skin, her breasts, her thighs. She watches, her eyes half-lidded, her chest heaving.

When you're done, you collapse beside her on the desk, both of you breathing hard.

The office is silent except for your ragged breaths.

Scarlet laughs — a breathless, disbelieving sound. "Happy birthday to me."

You prop yourself up on an elbow, looking at her. She's a mess — cum drying on her stomach, her hair tangled, her makeup smudged. And she's never looked more beautiful.

"Did you like your present?" you ask.

She turns her head, her hot pink eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the mask slips completely, and you see her — just her, raw and open.

"Yeah," she says softly.

She reaches up, pulls you down by the collar, and kisses you, slow and deep.

Outside, the last of the sun disappears below the horizon. Inside, tangled together on a desk in the dark, you hold her, and she lets you.