#beneath the continents

[beneath-the-continents]

“Luca. Luca, hey, look at me.” Luca opened his eyes to the dimly candle-lit room – he hadn’t even realized he had closed them. There was Theo, sitting in his lap, one hand pressed to the side of his jaw, thumb tracing lightly over his cheek, looking down at him, his brow creased with worry. “Honey, you’re shaking.”

Luca gave a huff of breath, half frustration, half amusement. “ I – sorry, I -”

Theo shook his head sympathetically, his other hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from Luca’s face, touch so light he hardly felt it there at all. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No I – fuck, please no. I just – I’m not used to being touched so…”

He trailed off. How could he tell him? What was there even to say? That any time he had wanted the release of such an intimacy before he had found it only in hasty touches pulling aside robes in dark, cramped spaces? Never had there been so much as a suggestion of the things Theo was offering him – the press of soft lips against his throat, the warmth of skin-against-skin or the thrill of the feel of his hands running through his hair. And even if there had been, he had not wanted them. Not like this.

But it was more than just that. There Theo was, looking down at him, all dark eyes and mussed hair and reddened lips slightly parted, wanting him with fervour but pulling up short at the slightest hint of hesitation, without Luca even needing to ask. Even now, Theo was still taking care of him.

“…Gently.”

Theo offered him a small, watery smile, but said nothing, letting Luca continue when he wished.

“I think it’s all just a bit overwhelming. I’ve wanted you for so long… and now that I finally have you, I really don’t know what to do with myself,” Luca admitted with a sheepish chuckle.

Theo hummed softly, guiding Luca close with one knuckle under his chin until he was near enough to see the ring of gold around his wide, dark pupils in the low light. Theo closed his eyes, dark lashes fanned out against pinkened, freckled cheeks, and pressed his brow to Luca’s gently. By now such a touch was familiar to him, safe and beloved, like coming home, and Luca could feel himself soften against it. “I Understand. Why don’t we just take things slow, alright?”

Luca hummed his affirmation. Though his heart wanted all there was to be had of Theo, every part of him as close as he could manage, pressed together until he could no longer tell where his own body ended and Theo’s began, wanted to take greedy handfuls of him, tuck him into the curve of his body, his breath soft against his throat, smell his hair, his skin, feel when he stirred in the night, they knew for now he could not handle so much. Frustrating though it was, he reminded himself he need not feel any sense of urgency – they had all the time that he needed, and Theo would give him each of these in their own time.

Theo settled himself more comfortably into Luca’s lap. The weight of him felt good and solid, pinning him down to earth. He placed his hands on Luca’s shoulders, tracing the line of his collar with both touch and hungry gaze, a faithful hound awaiting its master’s command. He moved one hand slowly up the side of Luca’s neck until he reached the place where it met his jaw and drew his knuckles over it, tracing the line of it with them, using them to tilt his chin up just so slightly to move their lips a mere breath apart, making their noses brush softly. He could almost believe he felt it, Theo’s smile in response, though their lips had not yet met.

Luca’s body ached in response, his hands greedy to sink into the soft skin of Theo’s body. He let them. Siezing Theo by the hips, he pulled him deeper, rougher than he meant to, though not nearly as rough as he desired. Theo let out a strangled gasp in response, clutching the nape of Luca’s neck, giving him pause.

“ ’M sorry.” He rasped. ‘I know my hands are course. I’m sure it doesn’t feel nice, to be touched by such scarred hands as mine.”

“Oh, honey, you really have no idea, do you?” Theo turned his head, taking Luca’s wrist in his hand, pressing into the beat of his heart at his wrist, and kissed the pads of each of his fingers in turn. His lips traced the curve of skin between them and his thumb and caught on the ridges of old scars as he dragged his kiss-swollen lower lip across the palm of his hand before placing a long, slow kiss at the base of his thumb. Luca could feel his breath catch and hold as Theo’s gaze found his own.

“Every callous, every scar… If I were a blind man I could tell the hand of my love by touch alone. I can only dream that one day, you will allow me to know every line of your body as well as I have come to know these perfect hands of yours.” Theo punctuated his words with soft kisses, and Luca knew that he could have asked him for anything in the world, and he would know no peace until he had given it to him.

The truly strange thing, was that what Theo was asking for was him.

“If – if that’s what you wish.”

“It is.”

[rafesangelita]

♡ dilf!rafe loves to make his pretty bunny squirm..

warnings: use of the name ‘daddy’ (scroll if that’s not your thing), vibrator + overstimulation, fingering, pussy slapping, oral (f. receiving), crying, dumbification (?), multiple orgasms, reader is restrained, praise, soft aftercare, fluff

“no more, no more, no more— r-rafe!” you squealed, your eyes screwing shut as the man between your legs turned up the setting of the pink vibrator currently pressed against your poor, overstimulated clit. “shhh, you could keep going..” he reassured you, using his free hand to stroke your soft skin. the searing pleasure alone made you cry out, the overwhelming feeling building up in the pit of your tummy. moving your hips away from the buzzing device was deemed useless as your restraints kept you in place, your wrists and ankles sore from all of the tension.

rafe watched the way your body trembled beneath him, your eyes basically sparkling up at him as tear drops rollled down your cheeks. “tell daddy what’s going on in that empty fuckin’ head of yours.” he cupped your face, squeezing your cheeks together as you whimpered. he knew you didn’t have a single thought, your ability to think or speak a coherent sentence had since been long gone. “i asked you a question.” his voice reverberated in your ears, your eyebrows pinching together as you struggled to answer him. “w-want your fingers, please!” you sobbed, feeling empty despite having came four times already.

switching off the bunny vibrator, rafe shushed you as you gasped in relief, your chest rising and falling as you fought to catch a full breath. “you’re so pretty like this,” he cupped your tits, rolling the sensitive buds between his fingers, “i love watching you turn into a desperate, brainless slut.” trailing a hand down between your legs, rafe ran a single digit up your folds, his jaw clenching as he felt just how soaked you were. watching your face carefully, rafe waited until he saw your eyelashes flutter closed before delivering a harsh smack to your cunt, a choked sob sounding out from you at the painful yet pleasurable sensation.

you didn’t have time to register what he had done before you felt his head dip between your thighs, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses along your skin. feeling his gentle ministrations allowed you to relax for the first time in an hour, your neck craning as you looked down and met rafe’s dark gaze. watching as he brought his hand up, you melted when you felt the delicious stretch of his digits, your eyes screwing shut once he curled them and hit that soft spot inside of you. clenching around the welcomed intrusion that was his fingers, rafe pressed a kiss to your folds before his tongue delved in between.

he groaned at the taste of you. “you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” rafe contined circling your clit, his cock straining painfully against the material of his pants, “just give me one more, babygirl.” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his mouth so you couldn’t even attempt to move away from him. “oh, god..” you whimpered, wishing you could reach down and hold onto rafe’s hand while he made you lose yourself once again. you felt pure unadulterated pleasure lick your insides, the jolting euphoric feeling shooting through your body as your heart started beating in your ears.

for rafe nothing was more gratifying than seeing the way you writhed underneath him, your glossy lips pulled tightly between your teeth as you moaned. holding you with a death grip, it wasn’t until he heard you mutter a ‘gentle, please..’ before he let go and rubbed soothing circles into your side. you looked absolutely spent. with your eyes shutting in and out of consciousness and your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, rafe decided to give you one more kiss before undoing your restraints, your limbs falling like dead weight.

taking a seat against the headboard, rafe pulled you between his legs where he started leaving gentle kisses to your wrists, the raw skin already feeling better with his lips there. “hurts..” you whispered, burying your face in his chest as he hummed. “i know,” rafe spoke quietly, “you took it so good, ‘pretty, you know what that calls for?” he pulled your fluffy robe from where it sat on a nearby chair before covering you with it. “your credit card?” rafe laughed, thumbing your chin before pecking your lips.

[slutla]

“A” 4 EFFORT ! | MARK GRAYSON X FEM READER

warnings: 18+. nsfw. nerd ! mark grayson, bimbo! bully! reader. mark is a dork n i love him idc. boob job, blow job. marks a virgin. usage of puppy. spit. indecency in a storage room. whimpering. he cries. college au. no powers. pet names, corny nick names but it’s used in a degrading way. degradation. praise. he’s obvi a lil ooc.

summary: mark, smart, awkward, and far too soft-hearted, made the mistake of doing one too many assignments for you. a bully in heels, unhinged and relentless, you’ve taken a liking to him in the worst way possible. wc: 4.0k-ish

an: minors n ageless blogs dni. i scraped n rewrote this idea like 3 times b4 finally finishing it. whoops.

Mark is hiding—yes, literally hiding—curled up like some sad, oversized hermit crab shoved into the mildew-scented dark of the campus storage closet. Knees pulled to his chest, hoodie bunched over his head, the flickering overhead light doing nothing but throwing sad little shadows across his hunched spine. He’s tucked into himself like if he folds small enough, maybe you won’t find him. Maybe you’ll just assume he’s dead and move on.

He did your assignment again. Like always. Like clockwork. Like the stupid little pet you keep on a leash of guilt and half-smiles and flirty threats. But this time? He tanked it. On purpose. Slipped in the wrong citations, fudged the formatting, “forgot” a conclusion. Got you a solid C-minus. Barely scraped the bottom of passable. And now he’s sitting here marinating in dread, picturing your reaction—the dramatic sigh, the tilt of your head, the sharp, sweet twist of your mouth when you’re disappointed. Or worse, unamused.

He’d tried to convince himself it was a smart move. A soft rebellion. Maybe if you bomb once, you’ll stop throwing your workload into his lap like it’s part of his tuition. Maybe you’ll get the message without him having to look you in the eye and say no.

But now he’s here, heart doing that ugly fluttery thing like it’s trying to crawl up his throat, every footstep outside the door sounding like you in your usual stormcloud mood. Sharp clacking shoes. Soft voice. That sugary venom in your tone when you call his name like you own it. His phone buzzes. A small sound, pathetic even, but it might as well have been a gunshot for the way it ricochets through the cramped silence.

Mark jumps, a sharp, startled twitch of limbs against concrete and metal shelving, knocking into a box of dusty paper towels with a soft thud. His heart nearly claws its way out of his ribcage, frantic and feathered, wings beating uselessly against bone. With a hand that barely feels like his, fingers cold and trembling, he drags the phone out of his pocket. Screen cracked, brightness low. It lights up his face like an omen. One message. From you.

“I will find you.” That’s it. No smiley face, no punctuation. Just four words, typed clean and sharp like a promise. His blood turns into static. Because he knows you. Knows the games you play, the way you turn hide-and-seek into warfare. This isn’t a bluff. You will find him. You’ll crawl through every hallway, knock on every door, whisper his name down every corridor until he’s backed into a corner with no exit and no excuse. He swallows hard, breath caught halfway in his throat.

The knob fumbles. A weak, clumsy twist. Mark freezes, every nerve pulled taut like snapped violin strings and watches it turn in slow, gut-wrenching motion. And then you’re there. Grinning like you already won. Framed in the doorway like sin incarnate, all legs and ruined decency.

Your skirt’s a joke, barely there, riding high enough that he catches soft glimpses of plush skin, the smooth curve of your thighs glowing beneath the low hallway light. Your top’s slouched off one shoulder, bra strap peeking out. Lips glossy. Shameless. Entirely too much. Mark feels his soul leave his body. He should’ve picked somewhere with a lock. A church, maybe. A different continent.

“Well, well,” you laugh real pretty, like this is a game and you’ve already decided the ending. He wants to crawl into the mop bucket.

“Why do you look so scared, Marky?” Your voice is syrupy sweet, sticky with fake concern. A pout on your lips, mock-sincere, but your eyes give you away, glinting, bright, sharp like broken glass.

Mark flinches again, visibly, like the nickname itself has claws. He hates that name. You know he does. He’s told you, multiple times, in that tight, awkward voice like he’s trying not to snap. And still, there you go, dragging it out like gum on the sidewalk.

His skin prickles, goosebumps crawling up his arms like your words live beneath them. “I don’t bite,” you add, stepping forward, one slow click of heel against floor after another. But you do. You bite and chew and leave bruises just from talking, and he’s not sure what’s worse, the way your words twist around his spine or the way his traitorous heart jumps every time you say his name like it belongs to you. He doesn’t answer. Can’t. His mouth’s too dry.

He stands up. God knows where he finds the nerve, maybe somewhere between survival instinct and dumb luck but he pushes off the stack of old textbooks and stands on shaky legs, spine straightening like a man preparing for war.

Too late. You’re already on him. The door clicks shut behind you, soft but final, like the last nail in a coffin. You don’t even give him room to breathe, step right into him, cut off his air, your chest pressed flush against his. He feels everything. The soft weight of your tits against his ribs, the heat of your skin soaking through his hoodie, the sweet, toxic scent of your perfume curling into his lungs.

There’s nowhere to look. Nowhere to run. And God, he wishes he wasn’t so aware of the way his heart’s pounding like it’s trying to punch through his sternum.

“L-look…” His voice cracks halfway through, eyes darting to the dusty shelves, the light fixture, anywhere but you. “I’m really sorry… I didn’t do it on purpose.” A lie. Such a bad, obvious, choking lie. It clings to the back of his throat like smoke, bitter and foul. He can feel your smirk before he even sees it

Your face hovers just inches from his, the space between you nothing but shared breath and tension so thick it could choke. Your plum-glossed lips linger just over his, not quite touching like a threat, like a dare. You’re pretty. Pretty in a way that feels curated, intentional. Glossy and shallow like a magazine ad come to life. It makes his ears burn, dusted pink at the tips. He looks like he wants to disappear into the wall. You look like you’d pin him to it for fun.

“Awe, Marky, you’re being so mean to me, you know that, right?” Your voice dips low, not soft, not gentle, but lush and poisoned, the kind of sweetness that sticks in your teeth and leaves a burn going down.

You pout like you’re heartbroken, big eyes all shiny, lips pushed out in that perfect little curve, and jab a single manicured finger into his chest, firm and unforgiving. He doesn’t move. Can’t. It’s like you’ve nailed him to the floor, body locked up, breath hitched.

Your long nail presses into the fabric of his hoodie, right over the solid thrum of his heartbeat. He’s trembling under you, not visibly, not like a coward, but in that subtle way only you notice. The kind of tremble that starts in the hands and climbs up the neck. The kind that comes from being caught.

“I trusted you,” you add, voice dropping just a little more, breathy and laced with mock hurt. “And you went ‘n sabotaged me? After I've been soo nice to you?”

He gulps. Loud and shaky, Adam’s apple bobbing like it’s trying to make a run for it. Poor thing.

“Sweet puppy’s grown a backbone now, has he?” you coo, tilting your head, voice dipped in amusement that’s just short of cruel. You don’t pull away. Of course you don’t, instead, that impossible closeness tightening like a noose.

His shoulders hit the shelf behind him with a soft thud. He can’t back away any further. Your chest presses against his, soft curves molded against hard muscle, and you feel it—feel everything. The way his breath stutters. The way his hands twitch at his sides like he’s trying not to grab you.

And lower, the real betrayal. He’s half-hard, thick and aching, tenting his pants like a loaded secret he can’t tuck away. You smile, slow and lazy, eyes flicking downward, then back to his face.

“Cute,” you murmur, almost fond. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

You slide a hand down. Deliberate. Slow. Like you’ve got all the time in the world to ruin him. Fingers trail over the thick line in his pants, heat trapped beneath the fabric, swollen and straining—and you wrap your hand around it through the material, squeezing just enough to make him suck in a breath. His hips twitch. His jaw clenches.

He’s trembling now, a little, but it’s there. A ripple under your palm. You look him right in the eyes, eyes wide and glinting with something unholy. Your thumb strokes once. Soft. Cruel.

“Did me callin’ you a puppy make you hard?” Your voice is low, a velvet drawl, wrapped around mockery like it’s a love song.

“You’re, uhh… too close…” He whispers it. Barely. Like maybe if he says it soft enough, the words won’t count. His whole body is stiff, locked up, trying not to think about your hand wrapped firm around his bulge, the heat of your palm, the way your thumb had moved.

But it’s impossible. You’re too close. Too close. You’re all over him, heat and scent and lips a breath away, voice curling into his ear like silk and fire. And his brain? It’s white noise. He swallows hard, again, like maybe that’ll push the shame back down. Like maybe it’ll kill the way his dick pulses helplessly under your grip. But it doesn’t. Nothing helps.

You can feel it too, the way his body betrays him, twitching under your hand like he’s trying so hard to behave, to not give in. It’s adorable, You think.

You half-smile, head tilted, lip gloss catching the light like temptation bottled up. “Let’s make a deal,” you hum, voice flat and casual, like you’re discussing lunch plans, not unhinged propositions. “I’ll suck your dick, and you do my work properly.”

He chokes. Not metaphorically, he literally chokes, breath catching mid-gasp like his lungs betrayed him. His face flushes immediately, that soft, pale pink crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“W-what… what do you—” His voice breaks, small and high and strangled, as if saying it out loud would summon lightning. You roll your eyes so hard it’s almost theatrical, exasperation oozing off you like perfume. “What’re you actin’ dumb for?” you snap, grip tightening just a little around his cock, enough to make his hips twitch again.

“You’re already hard.” Your words hit him square in the gut, shame blooming behind his eyes, his mouth working silently like he wants to say something, protest, maybe—but all he manages is a sound. A low, broken exhale that sounds suspiciously like surrender.

He’s not pulling away. And he’s not saying no. You notice. And he’s cute, you think so now. In a nerdy, helpless, needy kinda way. The flushed ears. The twitchy hands. The stutter in his voice like he’s not used to being handled. It’s charming. Pathetic. A little funny.

So really, it’s a win-win. He gets to feel the touch of a woman—maybe for the first time, if you had to guess, and you get guaranteed grades for life. Straight A’s and a warm mouthful of praise every time you strut past your professors. Everyone’s happy.

You lean in, your nose brushing his, lips brushing the shell of his ear now, soft enough to be dangerous. “You gonna be good for me, Marky?” you whisper, voice sticky and slow.

“I’m a real good fuck, actually,” you say, so breezy, so matter-of-fact it’s almost cruel. Your smile’s all teeth and glittering pride as your knees bend, thighs spreading just a touch as they kiss the cold linoleum floor. He looks down at you, eyes blown wide and lips parted like he’s watching a dream and a nightmare crawl into his lap at the same time. You tilt your head, all smug satisfaction and sweet venom.

“You got lucky,” you hum, palms sliding up the inside of his thighs now, thumbs hooking the waistband of his pants like a promise. And he knows it. Knows he’s in over his head. Knows you’ve got him right where you want him.

You make a show of it. Fingers slow and precise, unbuttoning him like you’re unwrapping a present you already know you’ll like. The zipper drags down with a lazy hum, and his breath stutters. He clenches the fabric of his hoodie like it might anchor him.

You tug his pants down just far enough, and then the boxers. He twitches when the cold air hits him, body jerking like he wasn’t ready, like he should’ve been, but wasn’t. And yeah. He’s big. Your lashes flutter. A slow, lazy grin curls on your lips like sin itself is stretching out to get comfortable. It’s better than you expected—thick, flushed dark, heavy where it hangs, and already leaking like his body’s ahead of his brain. Small pearls of pre ooze from his slit, leaving a slimy trail all the way down to his heavy balls and a light dusting of hair.

You glance up, just to watch his expression twist, poor boy, caught somewhere between pride and terror. His mouth parts like he might say something, but nothing comes. You look back down and press a soft kiss to the tip, soft and sweet. The mess sticks to your gloss, shines faintly when you pull back just an inch.

He whispers something—barely, like even his voice is too embarrassed to say it out loud. But your hand’s already moving, slow and deliberate, working him up with lazy strokes that make his legs twitch. You tilt your head, smile playing soft on your lips like you don’t know he’s on the verge of breaking.

“What’dya want, baby?” You purr it, like honey slipping off your tongue, like he has any real say in the matter. A mercy, letting him speak at all. He stutters, Red all the way down his neck now, lip caught between his teeth as his voice cracks.

“Y-your tits…” A breathless pause. “Wanna… feel them.” His hands hover, fingers twitching mid-air like he’s too scared to ask properly, like he’s afraid you’ll laugh.

You blink once, then laugh anyway—not mocking, more amused, indulgent. You lean forward just enough for your chest to brush against him, soft and warm through the thin fabric of your top.

“You wanna feel these?” Your voice drips slow, the words curling at the edges, soft like something wicked in silk. He nods before you’ve even finished the sentence—frantic, desperate, practically drooling like a mutt starved for affection. It’s pathetic. It’s adorable. It’s everything.

You bat your lashes, long and thick, gaze dipped half-lidded as your fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. You tug it up slow, just to watch the hunger flicker in his eyes, then reach behind your back, a quick flick, and the bra slips off like it was never really meant to stay on.

They bounce free, soft and full, skin warm and glowing under the harsh closet light, and his breath catches so sharp you swear he might choke on it. You cup them lightly, just enough to make them spill between your fingers, teasing him without saying a word. Then, voice dropping lower, sweeter, with a tenderness that makes it sting:

“You wanna feel ’em with your dick… or your hands, puppy?” You watch his brain short-circuit, like he doesn’t know what’ll kill him faster. He doesn’t answer —can’t. His mouth opens like he wants to speak, but no sound comes out. Just a shaky breath and a helpless look, red-faced and wide-eyed, every ounce of his nerve short-circuiting all at once.

So you make the choice for him. You lean in, slow and deliberate, gaze fixed on his like you’re daring him to look away. One hand slips between your tits, the other trailing down with intention, You press your breasts together again, as his leaky ‘n throbbing cock slides in between them.

His knees nearly buckle. His breath comes in short, desperate little bursts, hands twitching at his sides like he doesn’t know where to touch, if he even can.

You tilt your head. “Feels good, huh?” Voice velvet-soft now, syrupy and slow. “Bet you’ve never had anything close to this.” And he hasn’t, And he knows it. Your slick, glistening breasts slide along his throbbing cock, coated in his warm precum. As you glide them up and down, your tongue flicks deliberately at his sensitive tip, teasing with slow, hungry licks. Mark’s body trembles, his muscles clenching with every shuddering breath. He ruts eagerly against your soft, yielding tits, like a dog in heat lost in the overwhelming pleasure. Nothing he’s ever fucked—his hand, a pillow, a toy—comes close to the wet, enveloping warmth of your breasts and mouth.

Your tongue swirls and laps at his pulsing cock, wet slurps and soft gags echoing through the room, mingling with the rhythmic slap of his balls against your slick, heaving tits. Mark’s groans are deep, guttural, his chest rumbling as you gently squeeze his balls, sending a jolt through his trembling frame. “You’re pretty big,” you coo, voice dripping with praise, “such a shame it’s attached to a dork who doesn’t even know how to use it.”

Mark lets out a desperate whine as you guide his throbbing shaft into the tight, wet warmth of your throat, deepthroating the length not already enveloped by the soft, plush fat of your tits. His cock throbs with every bob of your head, slick and warm in your throat. Mark’s in bliss, thinking if he died now, he’d go out happy, his dick devoured by such a pretty girl. Your soft pants, warm puffs of air teasing his sensitive tip, push him closer to the edge. His balls tighten, hips jerking as he feels the surge building, ready to unleash his pent-up load across your face and dripping tits.

“Hah—‘m gonna cum,” Mark chokes out, voice shattered, breathless, like he’s unraveling at the seams, pleasure swallowing him whole. You hum, low and smug, a wicked edge to it, and double down. Your head bobs faster, throat clenching around his pulsing cock, gurgling slurps and wet gags filling the air—loud, obscene, a filthy symphony just for him. Your tits, slick with spit and precum, squeeze his shaft tight, a perfect, plush vise. His dick’s buried in heaven, warm, wet, yours to ruin.

His legs quake, thighs trembling like they might give out. Head thrown back, it thumps against the wall, his only anchor as he falls apart. You catch the way his fingers claw at nothing, fists white-knuckled, and that pathetic, broken whimper slipping from his lips? It’s fucking music. His balls tighten, hips jerking erratic, desperate. He’s a mess, sweat-slick, eyes glassy, whimpering like he’s never been touched before.

“Poor Marky,” you say with a pop, voice dripping with mockery, using your hand to finish him off. “Thought you could handle me. Big cock, no clue how to use it.” Your pace doesn’t falter, lips slick, hand relentless, tits bouncing with every move. “Gonna blow already? Such a shame.”

And with that little remark, that teasing curl of your lips, that tone too smug to be anything but wicked, he falls apart. All messy ‘n sloppy, big fat load creating a warm and wet mess all over your breasts and dirtying your pretty face. A few stray droplets kiss your cheek, cling to your lashes. You blink slow, licking your lips like it’s nothing. Like this happens all the time.

You blink slow, all lazy-lidded and smug, the corners of your mouth twitching like you’re holding back more laughter—the kind that would make him shrink even further if he had anywhere left to run. But he doesn’t. He’s stuck there, looking absolutely devastated by his own body, like his soul left him mid-spill and hasn’t come back yet.

“Tears?” you croon, voice dipped in honey and mockery. “You cryin’ over this? Oh, baby.”

You reach up and swipe your thumb across the corner of his eye, not gently. It’s teasing, purposeful, like you want to see if the contact will shatter him completely. And it nearly does. His breath hitches and his eyes flutter closed like even that’s too much. His lashes are damp. His cheeks hot. He’s blushing so hard it looks painful. Shame clinging to him like a second skin.

“Don’t tell me that was your first time gettin’ off with someone watchin’,” you murmur, tilting your head, lips twitching again. “God, that’s actually so cute. I could eat you alive.”

And he doesn’t answer—just stands there, stiff and red and broken open in the prettiest way. You lean in close, your voice a whisper now. “Bet you’ll do anything I ask now, won’t you?”

He nods, slow and small like he’s ashamed of it — like even that’s a surrender too humiliating to admit out loud. But it’s there. Clear as day. He’s yours now. All soft eyes and trembling hands and a brain melted to mush. You smile, bright and sweet like you didn’t just break him down into dust.

Your fingers trace lazy circles on his bicep—featherlight, affectionate, like you’re rewarding a pet after a trick well done. And your tone? Cheerful. Too cheerful. Like you’ve moved on already.

“Great!” you chirp, lips popping on the G. “You can resubmit that assignment for me.” He stares, chest still rising and falling like he ran a marathon, lips parted like he wants to protest—like he’s got dignity left in some corner of his soul. But he doesn’t speak. Just swallows hard and looks away.

“Don’t look so gloomy, Marky,” you purr, already turning to adjust your skirt, unfazed. “You came, I smiled, we both got something outta it. Now go on. I want that A.”

You wink over your shoulder. He’s still standing there, stunned, pants around his thighs, wondering how the hell he ended up in this situation when he was trying to get out of it the first time.

[madame-fear]

𐙚 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃.

�� amira speaks.ᐟ : this was written for my most lovely wifey @lady-ashfade,, who’s been thirsting a little bit too much for the serving Strong boy, Jacaerys. It’s something shorter than usual as I wrote it with the little free time I have,, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : there is nothing that the eldest son of Rhaenyra enjoys more, than filling you with pure dragonseed to prove you are only his. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 500.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : drabble, smut. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; breeding kink. p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, Jace being slightly possesive over you. a really short drabble written by an exhausted author so excuse any mistakes.— lmk if I forgot anything else!

“Umbagon iēdrosa,”

A kiss was delivered to your lips, silencing you from letting another loud groan escape; his own lips pressed firmly against yours. Jace’s fingertips digged deep in your skin, almost clawing it, as his hands were placed in your hips, forcing you to remain still.

Helplessly, a whimper was released against his lips, simultaneously feeling Jace groaning faintly. A warm feeling occupied your stomach leisurely, as his cock pulsated deeply inside of you. You had lost track of time, having been in that already aching position for a good while— almost all night had passed with your moist cunt getting filled with his seed.

“F-Fuck,” your words grew stuck on your throat, digging your nails on his back, as your other hand interwined it’s fingers on his brunette curls in the back of his head. And as if all those hours getting cum-filled hadn’t been enough, Rhaenyra’s heir slightly moved out of you, only for his cock to leisurely push once again back inside— sliding in and out so easily of your wet pussy, as his member was coated with your fluids.

“I’m sorry, ñuha dōna jorrāelagon,” he began muttering in between pants, placing his lips on your neck’s sweet spot— knowing each one of your most delicate corporal zones, and that was something to take pride for whenever you squirmed beneath him. “But, I need you to carry my heirs. And when you do, everyone will know just how much I adore filling you with my seed.” another groan spurred from your lips, as his hardened cock increased the pace in which it constantly hit your inner sweet spot.

You ached with each one of his movements; your soft groans and pleas occupying the silent space in your shared chambers. With the passing hours of the night, you felt almost oversensitive even to the slightest touch— but, at the same time, you couldn’t deny it felt satisfying to feel his erected size releasing it’s cum inside of you.

Both your trembling legs were firmly interwined on top of his back, offering him free access to keep pushing himself deeply inside of you, as you hid your face on the crook of his neck— weakly nibbling on your lower lip to hold back your continous pleas, your ragged breathing hitting against his exposed skin.

A faint fleshy sound was provoked with each single hit against your cunt, his length beginning to throb softly, while a knot tangled on your stomach. Growls escaped from him, holding you firmly in place. A feeble grin grew on the corner of his rosy lips, hotly breathing against your own skin as well. One of thumbs gently caressed your skin, lazily placing kisses all over that precious face of yours— admiring every inch of you.

“Otherwise, how else will everyone know who you belong to?”

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[xiaowhore]

happily ever after.

premise. perhaps in your last life, you wished for an extraordinary romance; a once-in-a-lifetime encounter, a dashing prince to kiss your hand, and an eternal love that could only be found in fairy tales. now, as you acknowledge that this story is not yours, your greatest desire is to remain out of the limelight while you watch your dearest protagonist twirl in the ballroom with the man of her dreams.

and just like every other time, fate has other plans.

word count. 7.8k

note. i honestly thought i wouldn't be able to finish this, but here we are. i hope you enjoy!

“The duke of Marechaussee is looking for a bride!”

The news spread far and wide, each new piece of gossip shared through word of mouth more convoluted than the last. But the gist of it essentially remains true—the reputable head of the most prestigious duchy in Fontaine, Neuvillette, whose abstinence from marriage had nobles speculating his intentions to practice celibacy, has now unfounded those rumors.

For others, this is an opportunity. For you, this is a cause for a headache.

Let's have a brief recount of your second life thus far. Ten years ago, you found yourself in a body that was not yours, one that was far too dainty and sickly for your liking. You were born to a powerful aristocratic family, your father bearing the title of Marquess. It was your greatest joy to find this new family of yours was loving and affectionate, bursting into tears of relief upon your return to consciousness the very first time you opened your eyes in this world. You were told you had nearly fallen to disease, and your parents spared no effort in finding the most knowledgeable doctors across the continent. Their embrace was incredibly warm, hands clutching your small body so tightly as if once they let go, you would be lost to the winds.

And, well. As far as you’re concerned, it isn't the worst life to live in. Your eldest brother is almost overbearingly protective, but he’s beyond considerate and cared for you greatly. Your second brother isn't honest to a fault, and you heard he often played tricks on you before, but ever since your worst fit of sickness, he's been incredibly careful in his treatment around you.

Life passed peacefully like this, adored and doted on by your beloved family. To repay their kindness, you wish to aid your eldest brother in the future and pursue your studies, but your parents assure you you don't have to do anything you don't want—including being bound by marriage.

For any other aristocratic family, it is a daughter's duty to secure a beneficial relationship with other houses of similar prestige. But your family spoils you rotten, and they hold no greed; why would they wish for more power when they already have everything they could possibly want in the kingdom as a Marquess family?

It is for that reason you are able to avoid the biggest red flag that could potentially lead to your demise: the engagement with the House of Marechaussee.

With how much you used to read webtoons and played otome games with the “I died and woke up in the romance novel I used to read” premise, you aren't all that surprised to realize you found yourself in that very situation. What did surprise you is the lack of daddy issues, and how easy you have it as a villainess.

You woke up in the world of “My Royal Darling,” an otome game with a plot as creative as its title. Cliche as it is, you ate that shit up back in your previous life and knew the story like the back of your hand. Your character [Name] Silva mainly appeared in the duke's route, a villainess who loved him deeply for his kindness and gentleness beneath his cold facade. As far as villainesses went in this game, you are certainly not the worst; the girl in the prince's route actively schemed against the protagonist and received a befitting punishment as a result. The worst [Name] Silva did was beg her doting parents for an engagement with the duke and use her sick sob story to garner pity.

All you have to do is avoid the duke at all costs, and you won't be part of the drama at all.

...That was what you thought before you went ahead and befriended the protagonist. Goddamn it.

“The duke is searching for a bride-to-be. Can you believe it?” Lumine giggles in all her protagonist glory, twinkling laughter as pleasant as the song of birds. Her etiquette is impeccable as ever, starting from her straight posture down to the elegant curve of her fingers as she raises her cup to sip tea. Her dress is not nearly as intricate as yours, the difference between your status glaringly apparent, but it's easy to envision her as a perfect princess. It would soon come to reality, you realize.

“And because of that, just about every girl I know is flocking to tailor shops to prepare for the social season.” You grimace, picking up a chocolate cake from the cake tower laid before you. You are currently having tea with Lumine in your rose garden, a bi-monthly arrangement where you shared gossip and traded information. “I fear I will be ridiculed for not following the latest trends soon. All of the shops are probably too busy to accommodate my order.”

“You must be joking. Who would dare refuse you?” Lumine shakes her head. “And even if they dressed up to the nines for the duke, they couldn't possibly compare to you.”

“I'm not trying to gain his favor,” you counter, poking at a strawberry on your plate. “I simply want new additions to my wardrobe, and the banquet hosted by the imperial family is coming up soon. My parents indulge me, but even I can't skip out on it.”

To avoid the love interests as much as possible, you minimize the frequency you go out to parties. Using your weak constitution is enough of an excuse to decline the invitations that pour out in the mail each day. But refusing an invitation from the imperial family is equivalent to a death sentence to your social standing, and even the protectiveness of your older brothers couldn't spare you from that.

If you have it your way, you absolutely would not go. The royal ball is where the official story starts, the prologue to a fairytale romance. All the love interests will be present, and the routes will branch out according to who Lumine will choose to talk to. Though you have no idea who Lumine will pick and you’re certain you were already ruled out as a villainess character ever since you made yourself her close confidant, you don't want to take on any risks. Alas, reality is unkind. You suppose you'll just see it as an opportunity to see the drama up close.

“Forget me, do you already have something to wear?”

“That is...” Lumine appears to be forlorn. “I plan to wear a dress I've worn before. We deemed it more favorable than purchasing a new dress I'll only wear once in my life. Besides, I doubt anyone would remember me wearing it already.”

She places too much faith in people. Nobles thrive on gossip—they find every possible flaw in everyone to gain leverage over them, and you've seen them ridicule Lumine in the game enough times to know. As the daughter of a humble Baron, she's already being picked on by the upper ranking ladies. If she goes to the banquet hosted by the imperial family wearing a gown that's already fallen out of trend, you have no doubt she will be regarded with derision.

But you won't allow that to happen.

“Do you have time this afternoon?” You smile. Lumine tilts her head in confusion yet nods nonetheless. “Let's find you a dress in the commerce street. We'll test out that theory of yours that they won't refuse me.”

Immediately, her eyes widen. She knows what you're planning. This is far from the first time you would be treating her. “No, it's fine! We don't have to go there!”

“Oh, c'mon, Lumine. Your birthday is coming up. Just think of it as me giving you your birthday present a few weeks in advance.”

At that, her shoulders slump. This is not the first time, and so she knows well there's no arguing with you once you put your mind into something. “If you insist so much…” She tries for a grateful smile, but it looks more guilty. When will she accept that she deserves nice things like this and so much more?

Just like Lumine said, you shot up the priority list of the tailor shop without much of a fuss. You make her try on numerous dresses, forbidding the tailors from telling her how much they cost if she ever asks. You end up choosing a pale blue dress that accentuates her good figure and complements her skin, and you manage to grab a couple of matching jewelry when she isn't looking.

Hopefully soon, you think as you begin to scarf down what remains of the cake tower, eager to go shopping. If she goes with the prince route, he’ll give her an entire castle. I should probably tell her about that cage in the basement from the yandere bad ending, though.

Lumine looks good in everything anyway, so it isn't a very time-consuming affair. You even have some time left to check out the merchant stalls before curfew arrives and you have to send her to a carriage back home.

“I don't know about you, but I'm craving some donuts.” You're raring to go to the best bakery in town, and Lumine laughs at your eagerness. Your family never looked upon fried food kindly, and you only have a chance of eating them when you're not within their supervision.

“Aren't you full from the pastries we ate earlier?”

“Hardly.” You grab onto your inconveniently long dress, prepared to race. “Come on, Lumine, we better hurry up before they run out!”

In your haste however, you fail to notice a child walking towards the opposite direction as you. She crashes to your leg, the impact sending her to the ground. You gasp, wasting no time in crouching down to her eye level and helping her up, uncaring of how the hem of your dress slides against the dirty floor. “I'm terribly sorry! Are you hurt anywhere?”

You pat away the dirt on her skirt, searching for any sign of blood. “No, I'm okay! I'm sorry too, miss!” The girl does a little cute bow, one that would normally make you coo if only you didn't feel so guilty. When she gives you a reassuring toothy grin, eyes shining bright with innocence, you can't help but pat her on the head with your clean hand.

“Did you get lost? Where are your parents?” You bring out an embroidered handkerchief from your pocket, wiping her hands free of grime. Lumine scans the nearby area and notices a man running over.

“Mister!” The child exclaims happily, pointing at him. You look up at his direction, momentarily at ease, until you actually see who she's pointing to.

Apprehension pools at the pit of your stomach. The man is the very picture of someone that children should be taught to avoid. Draped in a dark cloak that conceals half of his face, his attire is practically the standard getup for kidnappers in an abduction scene, the type that says cheesy lines like “hand over the gold or I'll kill your girl right now” and ends up getting decked in the face by the prince that saves the heroine.

Before you can say anything, the little girl runs toward him, her arms outstretched for an embrace. The man is quick to lean down and cradle her in his arms, reprimanding the girl for his carelessness. The severity of his words is utterly lost when he's too busy scanning the child's body up and down in search of any injuries to be intimidating.

“Didn't I tell you not to run? You could get into an accident,” the man admonishes gently as he uses the napkin in the girl's hands to wipe away the remaining dirt on her palms. “Not everyone is as forgiving as this kind lady. Did you apologize to her?”

“No, it's fine, it was my fault,” you interject, doing a quick curtsy reflexively. “I got too excited about buying donuts that I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings.”

The man pauses when he gets a good look at you, making you shrink to yourself. You put on commoner clothes to blend with the crowd better, but you wonder if you have something incriminating of your status on you.

“Did you get hurt?”

You blink at the unexpected question. How could bumping into a tiny child cause you any injury? “...Not at all.”

His lips curl into a smile, still visible under the shadows of his robe. “Then that's a relief. We apologize for this incident. I'm sorry to cut this conversation short, but I'm afraid we have somewhere to be.”

“Oh, of course!” You laugh awkwardly, raising a hand to wave at the child. “Be safe on the way there.”

The older man bows his head and the little girl yells an endearing “farewell!” as she's carried away by her guardian, spinning on his heel to turn to their destination.

In doing so, you catch a glimpse of the ornate sword strapped to his waist. A silver dragon wraps around the hilt, its scales gleaming under the sun. The sapphires in its eyes are a deep blue, the color as vibrant as the sea, a contrast to the dull shade of its scabbard.

You swear you've seen that sword before.

“[Name], we should hurry. The sun will set soon.” Lumine snaps you out of your thoughts, reminding you of the direness of the situation.

“The lady was really pretty!” The little girl—Mamere—begins to ramble as she fiddles with the handkerchief you left her. She's walking on her own now, but the man makes sure to match her slower pace. “I thought she would get mad when I bumped into her, but her voice was so nice and soft. And she patted my head!”

“My donuts!”

“She was very kind,” the man agrees, remembering the genuine worry on your face when Mamere fell to the ground.

“But what do I do?” Mamere pouts, staring at the intricate embroidery on the napkin. “I don't know how to return this to her.”

Her companion hums. “I don't think she's expecting you to return it. Didn’t she give it to you?”

“But I feel bad…” Mamere admires the careful stitching, her fingers lightly tracing its shape. “It looks so beautiful… she must've worked hard in embroidering it, didn't she?” Suddenly, her eyes sparkle with realization, an idea popping into her mind. “Mister, if it's you, you can return it to her, right?”

The older man blinks. “I suppose so. However-”

The girl offers the handkerchief to him. “Please give this to her when you see her, Mister!”

Conflicted, he stares down at Mamere, but he eventually folds when she puts on her best puppy dog eyes. He takes the handkerchief from her hands, his thumb brushing over the meticulous embroidery.

Only a fool wouldn’t recognize the insignia of the Silva House.

A strong gust of wind pulls down the hood of his cloak, revealing long hair the color of moonlight. The golden hue of the sunset basks his pale skin in a bright glow, his eyes soft as he gazes upon the handkerchief.

“I have a good idea when I may see her next,” Neuvillette assures Mamere, causing her smile to brighten even more.

All too soon, the day of the imperial banquet arrives.

Though whether she wants to see me or not is a different matter.

Natully, your escort to the event is none other than your protective second brother, but you'd argue he's a better choice over the eldest who'd probably glare daggers at anyone who comes within five meters of your vicinity. It's not even like you have other men in your life aside from your family and the knights at your service.

You intend to appear as inconspicuous as possible, but the nobles' curious gazes still follow after your shadow. Consequences of your actions, you suppose. You managed to dodge that eventful first meeting with Duke Neuvillette since you knew you would bump into him at a social gathering, but you had to go through the extra mile to avoid attending every party you could skip because the game was so goddamn vague and only described the scene as “The lady of House Silva fell in love with the duke the moment her eyes landed upon him at a banquet.”

Thanks to that, you’re rarely seen by nobility and thus attained a ridiculous nickname along the lines of “the precious flower of Silva” for being thoroughly pampered by your family, hidden from the rest of the world. Embellished tales of your beauty spread across society, and you can only hope they weren't disappointed to see the real thing in the flesh.

Damn it, you think grimly, the downturn of your lips hidden beneath the intricate fan you've taken to using in order to hide your expression. It's hard to approach the buffet table when they're all staring at me like this.

Truthfully, you’re grateful all they're doing is staring. If not for your eldest brother’s protectiveness, you’re sure more than a crowd of men would be vying for your hand in marriage, flooding your house with mail and wedding offers. Your second brother is not so fortunate, pinned by pointed stares from all sides by unwed women waiting for the right moment to pounce on him.

He pinches the edge of your sleeve before you can attempt to sneak your way towards the buffet table. “And where exactly are you going?” Amazingly enough, his pleasing smile doesn't falter even as he grumbles out his admonishment, still as flawless as ever.

“To eat. The catering is wasted on you socialites, no one bothers to take a bite just to talk to other people.” You’ve learned a thing or two from your brothers, and so your own polite smile doesn't twist into something more fitting for the tone of your voice.

His mouth opens again, definitely some spiel about how you should try making other connections because as much as Lumine is pleasant company, she will not be of any help to your trading endeavors, but a girl adorned in frilly lace tries her luck in hitting on him and you slip away when he's not looking.

As expected, the feast on the buffet table is untouched. You help yourself to a few plates, searching for Lumine all the while. As per true protagonist fashion, she’ll arrive fashionably late at the banquet and bring attention to herself when the grand doors reveal her in a stunning dress. Had you not intervened, she would've gotten a pretty dress some way or another anyway—it’s bound by the law of the universe. In the original game, she helped an old lady cross the street and she turned out to be the owner of a high-end boutique.

But time goes by with no sight of familiar blond locks, and you’re getting pretty full from the steak served. You’re thinking about going to your brother to spare him from the women when someone approaches you, a series of footsteps gradually becoming more audible—from a respectable distance, of course, but near enough to know they came with a purpose. You stop yourself from sighing, taking a moment to collect yourself and school your expression into something more elegant.

Your efforts are rendered useless when your jaw immediately drops upon seeing the figure of the very person you were trying to avoid.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

Standing before you is Neuvillette himself, the crowd behind him parted like the Red Sea. He’s finely dressed, crisp suit accented with his House’s signature colors blue and gold, and his long hair is fashioned into a low ponytail that rests on the side of his chest. His intimidating air rivals that of the royal family, a commanding presence that drives people to bow to him at once. Yet this time, the crowd instead unashamedly stares at the spectacle the pair of you must make, both parties that are often absent in galas now crossing paths.

The etiquette lessons hammered into your body makes you curtsy in a show of respect, starkly contrasting the crude expletives roaring in your head as your eyes lock onto a vague figure behind him. It’s hard to meet his eyes. “Good evening, Your Grace. I believe this is our first encounter.” But I worked really hard to make it never happen, you know?!

In turn, Neuvillette bows his head in greeting. “Indeed. I’ve heard much about my lady, so I am glad I have the opportunity to meet you at last.”

The smile on your face twitches, the fabric between your fingers wrinkling under your tightening grip. “Pardon?”

“Your older brother is quite fond of you. He’s been telling me stories of your family whenever we have tea.”

Which brother is he talking about???

If it was your eldest brother, he would at least take care not to harm your clean reputation, but his gushing about his cute younger sister could be embarrassing. However, if it was your much more tactless, stupid brother who still holds a grudge over you eating the last tea cake given by foreign ambassadors from a neighboring country, he’d probably tell Neuvillette everything that would make your “precious flower of Silva” title entirely undeserving.

“A… haha… is that so…” you begin fanning yourself harder, trying to keep your nervous sweating at bay. Neuvillette turns his head, looking around your surroundings.

“I believe you were escorted by your brother. Is he preoccupied?”

The corner of your mouth curls into a slight smirk. “Certainly. Women have been trying to pique his interest since the banquet began.”

At that, Neuvillette’s smile turns wry. You’re sure he relates to that a little too much, the poor guy. Even at this very moment, there are countless women observing the situation, attempting to find the right chance to jump in the conversation and steal him away. Though you do feel bad for him, you’re also wishing to find a good opportunity to leave without looking rude. After all, in the possibility that Lumine happens to like him, you’d soon be acquainted with him as his significant other’s closest friend.

Just as you’re cheering on a lady that’s beginning to approach the duke, he starts speaking. “If that’s the case…” Bowing once more, he outstretches his arm gracefully, offering his hand. The sight looks like a sparkling CG, and you’re not sure if the flowers surrounding him are really there or if you're starting to hallucinate. “Would my lady mind if I escorted you for the time being?”

Your fanning hand comes to a sharp halt. “Pardon?” you say for a second time, sounding more disbelieved than the last.

“I happen to be in a similar predicament as your brother,” his voice lowers to a hushed tone. “Though we haven’t known each other for long, I hope you can lend me a hand.”

Why is this happening to me…

And as if his pleading tone isn’t enough, he tops it off with a charming smile truly befitting a love interest in a dating simulator. “I’d also like to take this opportunity to be closer to you, my lady.”

--

You bite back the urge to sigh, lest Neuvillette think you thought he was an utter bore as a dance partner. Really, he’s nothing like that–there’s no way getting to see that handsome face up close could ever be boring. He’s a nice partner, actually; he leads the dance in a way that makes you comfortable, and you’re no dance prodigy, but you feel like you can close your eyes and dance just as well as long as you follow his lead.

Another point of thrill is the incessant glares you can feel on your back. Truly, Neuvillette’s more ambitious fans are terrifying. As the one in charge of the territory covering the boundary between the kingdom and the land of monsters, Neuvillette must be used to frightening creatures, but lovesick women must be a whole ‘nother terror for him altogether for him to ask for your help to avoid them.

Still…

He’s the only person I’m trying to avoid at this place, and now I’m dancing with him. Haha. What am I even doing here?

You feel him squeeze your hand softly. “Is something on your mind?” Neuvillette’s voice breaks you out of your trance. You look up at him, noticing he looks worried.

“I apologize. I wasn’t paying attention.” You shake your head, giving him a small grin.

He frowns. “It’s not that. If you feel tired or unwell, please tell me.”

“I’m fine! Very much so!” You suddenly feel bad for cursing him, albeit indirectly, in your head. You understand why the original villainess liked him so much, but you should avoid interacting with him unless strictly necessary… once this dance ends. “I must say, Your Grace has quite the number of admirers. This is the first time I’ve been stared at so intensely by a crowd of women.”

He hums thoughtfully as you twirl away from him as part of the step sequence, and he catches your waist with ease when you return. “I could say the same for you. Gentlemen we pass by have been eyeing me with hostility ever since we started dancing.”

“What?” You look around the ballroom, making a sound of surprise when you see multiple nobles eyeing Neuvillette with some amount of envy and detestation. You’ve been so caught up with the attention Neuvillette’s been getting that you overlooked your share of trouble.

“The son of the viscount in particular seems to be the most eager to ask for a dance.” He averts his gaze to the man standing by the buffet table who’s been glaring at the pair of you pretty hard. Farthest thing from your type.

“I suppose I’ll have to find my brother when this song is over, then.”

Silence ensues in the remaining duration of the song, but it’s a comforting one. You’re not much of a talker anyway, and it’s hard to think of things to talk about when practically everyone in the audience is looking for a chance to steal both of you away from each other. Eventually, the last notes of the violin are played, and you finish the dance with bows of courtesy.

“Thank you for complying with my request.”

“It was nothing. I’m glad I could lend a hand.” Your eyes roam over the area, securing the shortest route to get to your brother. “Our encounter was brief, but you were truly pleasant company, Your Grace.”

You plan to leave it at that, the heel of your foot already spinning to turn in the opposite direction. Okay, good. That’s just an irregularity. It’s too bad I couldn’t completely avoid him, but as long as we don’t get too involved with each other, it should still be safe-

But then you feel a gentle hand wrap around the tips of your fingers. You turn back, the initial confusion wearing off to shock. Neuvillette is holding your hand. Neuvillette is holding your hand. Slowly, he brings it closer to his face, and for a moment, you think, Oh, his eyelashes are pretty long, before you feel him press a soft kiss on your knuckles.

You hear a gasp. Numerous, you correct yourself, on varying levels of shock. You hope that god-awful dramatic one didn’t come from you, but you aren’t too sure because the only things on your mind are Neuvillette’s hand around yours, his irresistible smile, and the words that leave his lips.

“If my lady doesn’t find my company disagreeable, would you consider meeting me on another occasion?”

In your time living as a noble, you’ve somewhat gotten used to speaking in formal language. In nobility terms, that’s basically Neuvillette asking you out on a date.

“...Pardon???”

Word spread quickly throughout the social network. That’s within expectations, knowing how nosy nobles can get. By the time the imperial banquet ended, everyone in attendance already heard that Neuvillette had taken interest in a woman, and that woman happened to be the daughter from the Silva family.

Objectively speaking, it isn’t a bad match. Both families have something to gain from a marriage union, which is why the original duke from the game agreed to the engagement in the first place.

Subjectively, however…

“I’ve gathered you all here today to have an important discussion.”

Presently, you are situated at the family dining table. As usual, there’s a heavenly feast spread out on the table, but all the food remains uneaten because there’s apparently a more pressing matter at hand.

“...The duke has spoken his intentions to court our [Name],” your eldest brother says grimly, hands locked together and placed under his chin.

“You’re overreacting, he just asked me if I wanted to meet him another time.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for the garlic bread appetizer. He promptly swats it away. “Hey!”

“That’s basically the same thing,” your second brother argues. “Not that I don’t like His Grace, but it’s so sudden. Nobody has caught his eye until now, and I find it hard to believe you’re the first one ever.”

“Now you’re just dissing me.”

“I don’t see why you’re all unhappy about this,” your mother cuts in, smiling pleasantly. “The duke is an honorable man, one of the few I think are deserving of our [Name]. If he shows his loyalty and dedication to her throughout the courtship, we’ll see how well he’ll treat her.”

“That is if [Name] likes him. If she doesn’t and he continues to bother her, I’ll have to step in, status aside.” Your ever protective father frowns as he slices the steak on his plate. “Do tell us if he’s making you uncomfortable, honey.”

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t go that far…”

The only issue you have with the duke is that he’s a love interest. In the original game, him and your character would have nothing to do with each other if it weren’t for the original you insisting on being engaged to him. You don’t know what happened to her in the bad endings, but the situation probably wasn’t ideal. You thought as long as you avoided him, you could steer clear of trouble…

But if he’s the one running after you, what are you supposed to do…?!

“At the very least, you don’t dislike him, do you?” Your second brother cocks up an eyebrow.

“Not really, no.”

“Then hypothetically, if he invited you for a boat ride in the town today, would you go?”

“Hold on a second!” Your eldest brother interrupts. “We still haven’t discussed whether or not he’s worthy of [Name] yet, have we?”

“I thought we were past that.”

“We need to discuss it in detail.”

“Discuss what? The duke’s abundant treasury, contributions to the war against the dragon lord, or his reputation of being a gentleman towards all women?”

“...There has to be something he lacks.”

“What he lacks is a wonderful, caring wife,” your mother says. “And if [Name] is interested in the duke, we shouldn’t get in their way. I know you’re worried, dear. [Name] has always been stuck in the house because she’s sickly, but if a man wants to take her out to have a fun excursion, you should let her. His Grace is also very considerate of the people around him. Surely, if he notices her feeling unwell, he’ll take care of her.”

I haven’t said anything about wanting to go on a date with him though?!

“Fine. I don’t disapprove of him, but…” Your brother eyes you warily. “You best be home before sundown.”

A day passes. You hear three knocks on your door. When you allow the servant to enter your room, a maid rushes to you in a hurry, a letter sealed with the insignia of the Marechaussee House in her hands.

“Brother, I haven’t even received an invitation yet…”

--

The cake tower in front of you is magnificent. The fresh fruits topped on whipped cream are vibrant pops of color, and the frosting is piped beautifully in intricate swirls and shapes. The cakes pair well with the tea served, too, and you’re already planning to bring Lumine here the next time you’re both free to talk about the imperial knight she ended up talking to at the banquet. That route is definitely your favorite and you can’t wait to hear about the details.

Damn it.

There’s nothing wrong with the food. This pastry shop has been making its rounds in the newspapers for its delectable new additions on the menu, and they didn’t disappoint your tastebuds.

Though you have to say they’d be a lot more enjoyable if you weren’t surrounded by women eavesdropping on your little meeting with Neuvillette.

“This strawberry shortcake is delicious,” Neuvillette notes. “I’m not too fond of sweets, but they taste great. You should give it a try.”

“Oh, yes, when I finish this one…” The mango cheesecake is to die for, but it’s kind of hard to swallow with the death stares pinpointed at your direction. You hope the pastry shop allows takeout. “Thank you for inviting me to come here, Your Grace.”

“I noticed you mostly ate desserts at the imperial banquet, so I thought you would enjoy trying the food here.” He’s smiling, but when he glances over at your unwanted audience, his eyes gloss over and appear colder. “I didn’t anticipate there would be many people today. I’m sorry for that.”

Some of the women visibly twitch. They weren’t exactly caught red-handed, but it does prove that they’re guilty. Someone probably saw us here and told everyone else… Gossipmongers are scary.

“This situation is out of your control, you don’t have to apologize. And, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something, so your invitation came at a good time.” You fiddle with the edges of your sleeve, plucking at the lace.

Sensing the mood, the duke places down his fork to give you his full attention. “What did you want to talk about?”

Well. Here goes nothing. “Um… your invitation back at the imperial banquet… are you referring to a friendly chat or…” It’s sorta hard to say “Do you want to date me?” straight to his face. In the small chance you’ve gotten the wrong idea, you’d hate to appear presumptuous, so self-absorbed to think the highly-praised Neuvillette fell for you of all people. Lumine, you’d understand–the girl has a knack for melting the coldness of your heart and taking down people’s walls, and it’s why you became friends with her despite the odds. You, though… Nothing specific comes to mind.

Unexpectedly, a soft chuckle reaches your ears. You raise your head, surprised to see Neuvillette laughing. It’s possibly the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. When he catches you staring, he composes himself, but the dazzling smile remains on his face. “I was certain I made my intentions clear, but I suppose I’ll have to be more forward next time.”

A flush crawls up to your cheeks, burning hot. “No, I swear I know what you mean- just making sure, you know? I mean, I wouldn’t want to assume the duke is interested in me without knowing for certain-”

You stop yourself from rambling, feeling you’ve said too much. Fuck. Is it just you or is Neuvillette’s smile a bit wider now? You stuff your stupid mouth with the shortcake he placed on your plate. It’s good. Your acting is very much not.

He clears his throat, getting back to business. “I understand you don’t see me that way. I would like to court you, but if you tell me to stop now, I will.”

Isn’t he backing off too easily? I mean it’s great he respects my decision, but if I turn him down now, it’d probably be bad for his reputation…

“Before we… have that discussion, I still have more questions to ask.” You sip on your tea to wash down the sweet taste on your tongue. It’s silent once you put the cup on the table. Placing your hands on your lap, you look directly into Neuvillette’s eyes, searching for an answer. “May I ask Your Grace why you took an interest in me?”

The silence persists for a few seconds more. It doesn’t seem like he’s thinking of the perfect words to swoon you over; he’s thinking about how to verbalize what he truly thought of you.

He opens his mouth after careful consideration. “...It began as curiosity,” he starts, tapping rhythmically on the table. “I had my own reasons for turning down invitations to parties, so I wondered what were yours.”

You swallow. Officially, you turned those down using your health as an excuse. But your constitution has improved greatly compared to when you were young, and evidently, you’re almost just as healthy as any person. At the very least, you’re not at risk of passing out or losing breath in the middle of an event anymore. He must’ve picked up on that.

“I’ve heard about you from other people. According to their words, you were ‘the loveliest flower’ in the kingdom, with unparalleled gracefulness and beauty… but your elder brother’s stories suggested otherwise.”

I’m kicking his ass when I get back home.

“And yesterday, I met you myself. I thought you differed from how they described you.” He pauses, drinking his tea. “I’ve heard many say you were quite the stoic character, always hard to read. But you make a lot of interesting expressions behind your fan. You don’t hide your true thoughts when you speak, or perhaps you’re simply bad at hiding them. I previously found your brother’s stories unbelievable, but now I can see that the colorful personality he was talking about wasn’t very far off.”

??? “Colorful personality”?? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

“...I understand.” You really don’t, but you won’t bother asking him for more details. Everything he said thus far lowkey sounds like a diss. “Let me rephrase my question, then.”

It’s okay. This isn’t unfamiliar territory, and you’re not stupid. Obviously, if you do different things from the original, the story will derail from its original course. That’s what always happens in transmigration manhwas, after all. You noticed that early before the plot could truly change. If so, perhaps you can control the amount of change that will happen.

You sit up a little straighter, eyes laser-focused on his reaction to what you’re about to say. “What are you after, trying to get closer to me?”

You know these tropes. If you give him what he needs, you can separate soon, no strings attached.

Neuvillette makes an expression of confusion, his brows knitted. “Your hand in marriage,” he says it like it’s the obvious answer.

“Not that! Is there anything you need help with?”

“I did say I was having trouble with the women at the banquet, but that was more of an excuse to talk to you.”

You sputter, “W-well, you need someone to fake-date or fake-marry then?” Fake-dating often leads to them actually dating, but if you’re careful, you can probably keep that from happening, right?

The furrow in his brow deepens. “I don’t want to use you to stop women from chasing me. I want to marry you.”

Goddamn it. Does this guy have his own set of dialogue choices and he keeps on picking the one that raises affection? “…Okay, I get it! You need something from my family! What is it? We don’t need to be married for me to help you.” You cross your arms triumphantly. That should do it.

Instead of agreeing, Neuvillette looks forlorn. “Lady [Name], is it really that hard to believe I want to marry you without something else in mind?”

Now Neuvillette looks like a kicked puppy and you’re solely to blame for it. Fuck!

You sigh, rubbing circles on your temple. “I just… fail to see why Your Grace is interested in me.” You’re not talking yourself down, nor do you have low self-esteem. You simply don’t recall doing anything that would make him fall for you at all. Logically speaking, there’s just no reason behind his actions.

Your eyes widen when you have a moment of eureka.  Maybe talking yourself down is actually the way to get him off your trail?

“I’m sure Your Grace is aware, but I have a weak constitution…” you begin your pitiful tale, coughing softly to prove your point. “I can’t work very long, and I require plenty of rest to function in daily life. In the case that we marry, I might not be able to keep up with the tasks the lady of the house is expected to handle. Rather than support you as your wife, I might merely become a burden to you. And most importantly…”

A lot of what you just said aren’t complete lies, but you did exaggerate them greatly. Even if he isn’t convinced with those, you still have a hidden card up your sleeve, one that’s sure to discourage him.

“...With my feeble body, it would be difficult to sire you an heir for the duchy,” you state firmly, placing emphasis on this one point. Successors are absolutely a requirement for each family, because who else will inherit the title and everything that comes with it when the current head comes to pass? For this, you’re not even sure if you’re exaggerating anymore. The future of the original [Name] Silva was left unclear, so who knows if your body will improve or deteriorate with time?

Neuvillette’s face becomes stoic. This much is expected. Any moment now, he’ll take back his words…

…As you’re thinking that, you feel him touch your hand once more, not unlike the time at the banquet. You don’t know when you started fidgeting with the napkin on the table out of anxiety, but he’s rubbing a thumb over your knuckles to soothe you now, gentle touches that verge on ticklish.

“I’m prepared for that,” he says softly. “I won’t spare any expense on your treatment, of course, and in the case your condition worsens, I won’t stop finding ways to make you feel better. But I would never make you do anything to push you beyond your limits. I’ll take on everything you can’t do. Eventually, we’ll need to talk about successors, but I need you to know that I won’t force you or put you in any risk. If needed, I’ll talk to my relatives and figure out something from there.”

???!?!?!?!?!!!?! He wants to pass on the title to someone who’s not a direct descendant?!?!?

Your mouth is agape. You’re sure your jaw-dropped face doesn’t look very pleasant, but the affection in his gaze doesn’t dwindle. Heavy. Everything he just said is so heavy. The future is scary to think about, but when he says it like that, why does it feel like you can lean on him freely?! This is no time to be getting swept off your feet, [Name]! Focus!

“Are you still not convinced?” He moves his face closer, concern in his eyes.

“No, I get it! I get it already!” You take your hand back, but his warmth still lingers. You hold your fingers like they’re scorched, yet pain is the furthest thing from what you’re feeling, and your heart flutters traitorously in your beating chest. “You’re being unfair. If you go that far, there’s no way anyone could turn you down.”

The smile returns to his face as he takes his hand back as well. “I take it that you’ve given me permission to court you, then?”

!!! Sly! That’s what this person is, sly! He knew what he was doing!

You make a face. “Ugh… maybe persistent guys are too dangerous for me…”

“Lady [Name], you’re speaking your thoughts out loud again. Not that I dislike it, though.”

The duke of Marechaussee has found a potential bride.

“I-! Nevermind…”

That’s putting it lightly because everyone that has heard of them is certain that they’ll marry in the near future. With the amount of flirting the two have done (leaked by the eavesdropping jealous-admirers-turned-shippers), it’s a mystery why they haven’t made the announcements yet.

Notably, the pair of them frequented restaurants the most, visiting the shops highly regarded for their sweets. Chatting in slow boat rides seem to also be one of their most favored dates, and at one particularly disastrous time when the boat tipped over by accident, the duke had fretted over the lady while she merely laughed in joy, insisting she was fine and her partner was being too much of a worrywart. Both started to attend more gatherings, almost never spotted to be straying from each other, and it was more or less their indirect way of telling the public eye they were exclusive.

Their romantic dates are all common knowledge to anyone nosy by now, but there’s one thing they absolutely cannot spread.

“Don’t tell this to anyone,” a woman whispered to her loyal companion. “And I truly mean that this time. Don’t do it.”

“What is it? Is it something really bad? ‘Some high-ranking noble has a secret love child’ bad?”

“No!” This time, the woman took care to whisper her words even quieter, “I heard the duke requested a jeweler to craft an engagement ring…!”

Things I couldn’t fit into the fic:

Neuvillette already met you when you were younger. In one of the first gatherings you attended, you talked to each other because you were near in age. However, you collapsed due to your constitution and he was the one to alert the adults and carry you to a sick room. He used a handkerchief embroidered with his initials to wipe away the blood you threw up, and you hid it away in your bedside table after cleaning it in hopes of returning it (if he still wanted it back, soiled once and all) when you saw him again. Unfortunately, your family members were worried and didn’t let you outside for a long time to avoid having you perform strenuous activities, and you didn’t recognize him at a later gathering when he tried striking a conversation with you. He noted you were slowly getting better, but wondered why you weren’t attending parties if you were relatively well now.

You probably interacted with him when he was pretending to be a normal commoner several times already before your “first meeting.”

You didn’t fall for him immediately, but it was a slow progression until you forgot about the whole ‘I’m in an otome game world’ thing completely.

[thecoochiefairy]

bratty. toji.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 7.8K words. blackfem!characters, drabble, toji fushiguro, drifter!toji, grumpy!toji, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, nasty sex, car sex, sweet sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, missionary, condomless sex, fingering, bratty main character, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ my man, my man. my man. plz listen to all the songs attached within the drabble! it’ll give you the full experience. the song i chose for toji felt so him coded.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: slow strokes. nasty ass. you hear that, baby?

PINK METALLIC BEAMED UNDER THE STARS OF THE NIGHT, your grin from ear to ear as you watched people snap pictures of your flawlessly wrapped car. It was a 2001 Honda S2000, Hello Kitty headlights blinking rapidly in the back, magenta LED lights glowing underneath the vehicle, the inputted speakers shaking the ground as Aghora Hills fell on the next mixture within your playlist. Suki, you called her. 

You were unsure of how you’d been surviving for most of the night, the skimpy chrome heels you wore thin as a needle, shorts having your ass poke out the bottom, top clinging against your pierced nipples. Beauty was pain. You pull the dark tresses of your  curls behind your ear, pressing your brown and mauve lip combination together impatiently. 

It was the monthly car meet, a high influx of people showing up to show off their custom vehicles, motorcycles—or even to simply network, share knowledge and socialize. You had worked on your own car with your bare hands, never shying away from people complimenting it. Your father had been a mechanic for years, teaching you the ways to create your dream car. Here it was. 

But besides all that, you were irritated at the moment. Your boyfriend was supposed to show up with his car, telling him that you didn’t want to be a part of the drifting show, saying that you’d sit in the passenger seat of his and look pretty. As always, he’d reply back. 

But he was late. An hour and a half to be exact, and the only people you had accompanying you was Suguru and Satoru, here with their own cars, but also trying to lessen your irritation.  

“Want some of my churro?” Satoru asks, waving the sugary dessert in front of your face. Your arm is crossed as you lean along your vehicle, shaking your head as you say, “No. You shouldn’t be eating that shit either, it gives you gas.”

They were essentially attached at the hip, your bodyguards if your dilatory ass man wasn’t around. They were even dressed similarly tonight. Both of them were wearing long sleeve black tops clinging to their muscular frames, Satoru’s dark shades shining under the light as he leaned along his own car. Suguru was a bit grumpy at the moment because he couldn’t find a cigarette off of anyone, re-tying his hair into a low bun, trying to keep his patience with his high energy friend. 

Satoru frowned, icy blue eyes faintly blinking as he narrowed them, “You lie. That was only that one time!”

Suguru’s hand clutched around the top of the churro, snatching it from his friend. His long hair shined beneath the lights bathing along the other vehicles as he snapped to him, “Give me that. Your farts could clear a whole fuckin’ continent. You know you’re lactose.”

Satoru pouts, puffing out his bottom lip and shoving his hands into the confines of his pant pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels. He crosses one ankle across the other as he lets out a sigh. His azure hues land back onto you, “C’mon. Cheer up. Pretty girl.”

“I’m fine,” you brush off, “He’s always late. I asked him once to be on time—the drifting show starts in less than an hour!”

Satoru rolled his eyes, “You should know by now that he just does what he wants.”

Suguru chimed in as he shoved the churro back into whatever food bag he had, “Maybe he found someone better than your hotheaded ass.”

“Awe, jealous that you can’t have me? Yeah, shut the fuck up,” you punch his arm, moving forward anyway as he tries to duck your swing. You then say, “That’s why both of y’all cars are ugly!”

Satoru’s eyes widen, mouth slacking open as Suguru’s arms drop to his sides—incredulous. He huffed out a scoff, “My car looks good as fuck!”

Satoru crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at you as he adds, “I agree with Suguru. Mine looks great.”

Your eyes move over to their vehicles you talk shit on, seeing Suguru’s Porsche 911 GT3 R, navy blue with black interior. It contrasts in Satoru’s shiny white Ferrari SP-8, the wheels even a stark alabaster color. You shrug, “They’ alright.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t be mad cause you got a man that can’t be on time for you,” Suguru glances out to the crowd of people, standing in lines at the food trucks, drinking their livers away before the actual shows begin. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Want a scratch on that expensive ass car of yours? ‘Cause my fingers feel itchy.” 

Satoru let out a whistle as he took a step back, leaning back against his car. He smirked, icy eyes flickering between you two, “Aye, chill. This night is supposed to be fun. No reason to get violent. Let’s do a Baddie-Baddie Shot O’ Clock! Where’s my Cognac?!”

He dips inside the window of his car to search, your crossed arms shifting as you watch two girls begin to walk towards you. You assume it’s for them to compliment your car. 

“Hey, where’s Fushiguro? Is he bringing his truck?”

The question is followed by giggles, your eyebrow raising in between the two blondes as you say, “Excuse me?” Ignoring the way Suguru mutters, “Uh oh,” while Satoru still searches within his seats for the bottle.

They’re both dressed the exact same—which was creepy—their heels matching their short skirts and crop tops. The taller of the two pushes her blonde locks behind her shoulder as she repeats herself, “Fushiguro. The guy with the Dodge RAM truck? He’s coming, right? He’s sooo fucking hot!” 

“He is!” 

Both of the girls began to giggle again, it almost makes you want to slam their heads together, hoping they’d morph into one and disintegrate. You were known to be a crash out, uncaring of where your anger had you end up. 

Satoru’s hand finally pulls out a thick glass decanter of Cognac, the bottle making a satisfying thud against the window of his car. He glances between you and the girls, almost feeling sorry for them.

You began to giggle aggressively with them, emphasizing on your dramatization of how they sound. You then say, “My man is running late, but the groupie section is right here, actually! Did you buy a ticket?”

They both blink owlishly, the expression making them look more bimbo-like. They’re visibly confused, as if you were speaking a language they could barely understand, the shorter of the two asking, “What groupie section?” 

Satoru snickers, attempting to hold back his laughter while Suguru’s eyes narrow.

Satoru took his chance to make a comment after finally containing his amusement. He cleared his throat, taking a few steps in your direction as he raised the decanter. 

“We don’t gotta fight, me and my friend can actually escort you ladies to his section—“

Suguru waves, “I don’t even like blondes.”

“Satoru, please shut the fuck up,” you warn, “Are y’all dense? I just said my man, meaning you need to step the fuck back.”

The shorter blonde girl’s head tilts to the side, clearly still not understanding what you’re implying. Her lips pursed together as she pouts, “Who’re you?” 

“And why are you so aggressive?” the tallest of the girls asks, blonde tresses shaking as she cocks her head to the side.

Satoru was about to make another comment on it, but one look from you shuts him up and has him chugging a shot of alcohol. He swallows it, a grimace taking over his 

expression as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“I’m the bitch who’s about to give you the brain you don’t have!” 

You’re like a wind up toy, coaxed in reaction when someone pulls you. You were too busy giving these girls the business to notice the monster truck that screeches as it parks close by, sleek black—windows tinted—Dodge Ram 3500 terrifying in comparison to the other cars. The spiked wheels, blinding headlights and LED strips along the bottom excel along the concrete. He already knows you’re somewhere cussing someone out. 

Dropping down from the truck, his leather jacket and hefty boots hit the ground as he’s already coming towards you. You’re lunging towards the women who squeal like school girls, feeling an arm tug around your hips, yanking you back, scarred lip already pressed along your ear as his deep voice transfers up to your brain.

“Knock it off.” 

The sudden gruff of his voice, so close to your ear, it makes you pause. You look up at him, his expression stern while the girls from before took the chance to scurry away before you could get to them. They were smart at least.

“I wouldn’t have done shit if you’d been here already,” you’re already glaring, finally turning your head to look up to him.

His expression doesn’t falter, if anything it hardens as his jaw clenches. He still has an arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you in place while he glances over to Satoru and Suguru, who try to not look at him, knowing your already shitty mood would only be made worse by the addition of their commentary. 

“And where the fuck were y’all at when she was about to beat up two girls, Barbie and Ken?” Toji’s glare follows Satoru and Suguru, seeing as they only watched.

Satoru frowns at that, “I’m not liking your attitude. Am I Barbie? I hope I’m Ken.”

Suguru crossed his arms over his chest, not looking guilty in the slightest as he replied, “We were just letting her get that shit out of her system. Stopping her would’ve made it worse. You know that.” 

Toji’s lips press into a thin line at that, knowing that what Suguru said was in fact true. Though, the last thing he wanted was for you to get into a physical fight in the middle of a car meet, surrounded by at least 400+ people. 

“You’ done with your temper tantrum?” he asks rather than comments, his dark eyes locking back onto yours.

“Are you?” You snarl back, ignoring as he now fully pins you against your car, your back along the pink wrap as he traps you with his large arms.

Your attempt to be bitchy didn’t affect him as much as you thought it would, only having the effect of narrowing his eyes at you. 

Toji was a tall man, especially when compared to you, even with your heels on, you still have to look up at him. He doesn’t care that you’re pissed off at the moment. 

You cross your arms, “What? Am I annoying you or something?”

“You’re being a pain in the ass is what you’re being. You knew I wasn’t gonna come on time. You just wanted to be here early.”

“Oh, so he does know why I’m mad. Good use of your comprehension skills!” You’re incredibly sarcastic, giving him a big smile. 

His fingers reach out, gripping your chin as he angles your face to look at him. You were always a mouthy thing. Especially when you get in a mood like this. It’d be cute if it wasn’t something you were capable of continuing on for hours. 

“Cut it the fuck out. I’m here now. Just say you missed me.”

You huff, but nonetheless, he was right. It was coming from a place of hoping he’d been here already, wanting to enjoy your time with him at a place you loved attending. 

You then admit with less aggression, “I just wanted you to be here with me.” 

Toji knows you. He’s heard this pouty voice from you so many times. 

He leans in, locking an arm around the back of your neck to pull your face close to his, “You’ done acting up now?”

His forehead touches yours as you then say softly, “Maybe.”

Goddamn it. You were too cute. He hated when you got in a mood like this because he was so hard-wired to respond to it with something soft in return. He then let his arm drag down to your ass, gripping the flesh in his hold, “You were smart to put this flimsy ass outfit on while you weren’t around me.”

“Can you just say I look pretty?” You ask, smacking your lips, immediate irritation crawling back in your veins, attempting to turn your face away from him when he pulls it back.

His lips twitch up at the sight of that irritated expression taking over again. The fact that you were pouting made his heart clench in an annoying way that he didn't fully understand. He loved when you were difficult, because he knew how to handle you. He pulls your chin back to him again. 

“You look pretty as fuck, baby,” he responds, his tone smooth as he gives you a smirk, “Although you don’t need the compliment. You know you look good.”

You roll your eyes, briefly pulling them back to the crowd of people. When you meet his face again, you’re immediately pulled in. Those damn grey eyes. Your lashes flutter as you lean up, accepting the kiss he was waiting for, feeling your face go warm as he sloppily tongues you down, never caring if anyone was around to do it.

It’s a bruising and possessive kiss that sends chills down your spine, his tongue dominating over yours as he pushes you back against your car. He can already feel the heat rising in you, the way your skin felt warm on his and how your body pressed against his. Your head even tilts back a bit, your hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to keep your weight steady. 

“Alright, nasty asses,” Suguru interrupts, Satoru beside him who’s dry heaving at the sight, “Y’all done fighting? Can we enjoy our night?” 

When you pull back, your cheeks are sure to be a little red, hiding your face within his chest as you hear his deep tone chuckle from that.

Toji glances at the two over your head, almost smug at the sight of them being visibly irritated at the kiss, “Shut the fuck up, dweeb.” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Satoru groans out, clutching the decanter in his hand, “Now, can we show everyone your pretty Suki? Let's do some shots! You hear that? Your favorite song is playing!” 

It was in fact one of your favorite songs from when you were a little girl, Move Ya’ Body by Nina Sky. Satoru begins to wave his hands above his head from side to side, causing you to shake your head with a giggle, “You’re a terrible bottle girl.”

“I’d make bank,” Satoru smacks his lips, “C’mon, Suguru. Dance with me!”

Suguru deadpans, “I’m not dancing.” 

Satoru groans, “I’m a ray of sunshine with three clouds trying to rain down on me, and that’s cool! Fuckin’ haters!”

That makes all three of you laugh, but he was right, it was time to enjoy the night. The drift show began to start— this was something that put you in your element. It was a different experience each time, especially drifting with three different men. 

You always hopped into Satoru’s Ferrari first—essentially the warm up—Satoru was entirely too safe considering his car was his precious baby. You enjoyed yourself nonetheless, hollering with him as he swerved around the parking lot with other vehicles. 

He could accelerate his car, but drifting with it was out of the question. It was better to leave it to the actual drifters like Toji and Suguru. 

Suguru was next. He was the complete opposite, reckless to be the perfect word. But it was the adrenaline you looked for within Satoru. 

You watch Toji within his truck from across the Porsche you sit in, seeing as Toji tosses a cigarette to Suguru with a warning, “Keep my girl safe as fuck, unless you want your heart to be pulled out through your ass.”

“Aye, don’t worry,” Suguru responds, giving the middle finger to Toji, one hand on the wheel while the other laid behind your seat as he grins, “I’m about to show 

Princess how to really drift a fuckin’ car.” 

Toji throws an equal finger up to him, watching as you lean over his friend's lap playfully, taking the cigarette to press in between Suguru’s lips, his smirk cocky as you light the object for him. You can feel Toji’s glare as you hear him call, “Quit being fuckin’ cute.”

That’s the last thing you hear as Suguru takes off, your head reaching out the window as you shriek in a girly manner, his one hand on the wheel twisting as music hums against the speakers, 4X4 by Don Toliver vibrating the entire car. 

Suguru was a good drifter, not as great as Toji, but enough that it had you cheering and laughing with him as he weaved through abandoned parking spots, just missing the car swiveling next to him. There was a moment when he almost lost control, causing you to scream and slap his arm.

He smirked beside you, enjoying the slap, “Oh, you liked that shit, huh?” 

You managed to smack his bicep again, “No, I did not! I’d like all four tires to stay on the ground while I’m in your car!”

“Should’ve stayed with your man then.”

And then, there was Toji. There was only one word that came to mind—effortless. He was a professional, your giggle unable to stop itself as he aggressively picked you up to place you in his truck with his wheels being high, smacking your ass as you jumped into the large seat. You’re all riled up from previous activities, seeing his muscular frame leaned back into the seat, engine roaring as he begins revving it up. You’re already climbing halfway out of the window, your hair a little messy from the wind, a nonetheless flawless look to you.

He glances over at you, his eyes locking onto your nearly hanging body sticking out of the passenger window of his truck. He smirks at the sight of you, the way you looked like a woman who was having the time of her life. You probably were enjoying yourself, with your messy hair and flushed cheeks. 

He reaches out to smack your ass again, the force rocking your body forward, “Sit down.”

You playfully swirl your hips, the shot you’d finally accepted from Satoru beginning to kick in. Of course, you don’t listen, arching your back farther outside of the window, heels pointed towards him, showing off your back dermals. 

When he steps his foot on the gas, he grunts as he grips the back of your shorts to pull you somewhat back, brilliant with his hands as he’s already burning the tires rubber, swerving dangerously, always knowing exactly which way he wants to go.

The song ILUV by Yeat plays exactly on time. Toji was a demon behind the wheel. He was capable of spinning his truck around, leaving behind clouds of black smoke, burning through tires faster than anyone at the car meet. He was cocky, but he was good. He’d been doing this longer than anyone else at these kinds of meets, and it showed. It didn’t come as a shock when he took every sharp turn perfectly, even on two wheels for some seconds. 

He loved when you got loud. The sound of your laughs, shouts and screams fueled the adrenaline that pumped through his veins. You were a sight to behold, sitting in his passenger seat, body half-hung out the window with your hair flying around. 

When you turn back to him, your dopamine levels sky high—it riles you up even more. His dark hair, muscles flexing as he’d removed his jacket before he turned on the truck, strident jaw clenching from the cigarette between his lips. You couldn’t help it—maybe it was also that shot you’d taken—but you were horny.

 You crawl over your seat, making your way onto him. You made sure his eyes were still in sight of driving the truck as you sat on his lap, dragging your mouth along his neck, grinding yourself against him with a breathless giggle.

His head tilts back slightly as you begin to nibble on his throat, his hands gripping the steering wheel a bit more tightly, muscles tensing under your body. You were the very definition of a distraction, your giggles against his skin sending heat right to the pit in his stomach. 

One of his hands reaches out to grab the back of your shorts, gripping the material to keep your hips rolling against his. “You’re needy as fuck tonight.”

Your tongue flattens along the skin of his throat, seeing the bruise that comes from your actions, fingers clutching for his belt as you lightly moan as a response.

He groans as you lick on his neck, leaving behind a spot of saliva in the process. He feels the way your hands grip his belt, pulling at the leather material, your small fingers slipping under his shirt, pressing against his taut stomach. 

He can feel the growing bulge in his pants from your movements, the friction against the thick material only adding more sparks in the pit of his gut.

 “Quit playing, you’re gonna cause a fuckin’ car wreck if you keep it up, baby.”

Yet you continue anyway, a throb producing between your legs as you drag yourself along his bulge. You hold onto him when you feel him do a harsh swerve, not realizing it was purposeful, making you scream out in fear as you panic, “Sorry!” 

Once you realize, you punch his arm, “Fushiguro!”

“Just making sure you pay attention,” he grins, grabbing the back of your thighs, angling you sideways as you now pout.

When the drift show ends, it’s finally the moment you’d been waiting for overall—the race. You hadn’t customized this car with a supercharger and a performative exhaust system for nothing. 

You smile as you rev your engine loudly beside Suguru, Satoru and Toji’s vehicles, other cars included.

Suguru had his car next to yours, the loud revving of the engine causing him to smirk over at you. “I’m eating the fuckin’ dust!”

You had Toji and Satoru on the other side of you, Satoru’s windows rolled down, his white hair ruffling against his face from the wind of the other vehicles. “Shittt, not if I win!”

“The fuck y’all won’t—they got four grand on this shit!” Toji calls out, watching you as you sit in your seat, your foot holding down the gas.

“Stop putting money on shit, broke bitch!” Suguru raises his middle finger, the both of them flicking off each other. 

You then call out, “Y’all talking too much shit to be losers!” 

And just like that, the flag is thrown, tires screeching horrifyingly as you take off, expertly making your way through every. single. car.

You were an experienced driver and it showed, especially when you began to pick up speed, your hands gripping the wheel tightly and eyes narrowed. You had a lead over everyone, including Toji who was right behind you in his truck. He was keeping up with you, even when you passed car after car. 

Suguru and Satoru were slightly behind, but quickly catching up, just barely though. They were no match for the way you weaved through everyone, taking each turn with ease.

You were neck and neck with Toji. You watched as his engine matched your speed, the two of you excellerating as you approached the finish line. In a last ditch effort, you put more force into it, the force of the engine making your body lean back into the seat as you watched your speedometer rise higher. 

Unfortunately, your man still ended up winning. You could hear his low voice howling as he sped farther down, quickly turning the car around as all the others had begun slowing down, pulling back to where your car halted. As everyone begins to circle around one another, you lean along your car, rolling your eyes as you knew his cocky ass would never let this go. 

You turn towards Suguru and Satoru as they’re talking massive amounts of shit, ignoring Toji’s heavy steps behind you as he wraps his arm around your neck from behind, you roll your eyes as his hands immediately travel towards your ass.

Satoru was practically shouting as he approached your car, his fist reaching out to hit the top of it several times, “I want my payout! I got second place!”

“Ask your friend who was talking all that shit to pay you out! I’m taking my woman somewhere with that money!” 

That makes you suppress a giddy smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as you turn around, “Mmm, what else do I get, since you’re in such a good mood?” 

You giggle as he pulls your legs around his waist, grunting as you give him pecks along his mouth.

“Anything you want, baby. That smell good ass Miss Dior, a pink Telfar. Whatever your fuckin’ heart desires.”

“What about me?” Satoru says, fluttering his eyelashes.

Toji pulls back, scrunching up his face as Satoru leans into him before he says, “You get a fart, bitch.” 

As the night continues on, you’re standing around with Toji, Suguru and Satoru as they mingle and socialize with other men, the decrease of women making you want to leave. At this point, you were ready to be somewhere secluded, riding your man in the nastiest way you could. Yet he’s more occupied with his friends.

You lean your head on his shoulder, which makes him turn his head down towards you. You mumbled lowly, “I’m ready to go,” knowing that he wasn’t. 

“We’ve only been here for an hour.” He retorts, leaning down to speak into your ear, his voice low, “You can wait a little longer.”

You become drastically more horny just from him speaking in your ear, and even more impatient at his decline. You raise your hand to grip his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, sucking his lips into your mouth, uncaring if anyone watched.

That got his attention real quick, his body twisting to face yours at the kiss, his jaw clenching at your grip on his hair. When your lips move against his, his mind goes blank, a growl pulling from his mouth as he pulls back with a warning, “Chill.” 

Whatever. You fully roll your eyes, dropping your hand as you say, “I’m going to your truck. Go fuck your friends since they have your attention.” 

He can’t help but glare as he watches you stomp over to his truck, his dark eyes locked on your hips as you move further away. You hopped within the backseat, your aching feet causing you to remove your heels and fully lay your body out to scroll on your phone. He was used to your attitude, and he was extremely patient with it. But you’d worked on his nerves a couple of times tonight, and he was now weighing his options of letting it be, or knocking that shit out of your system.

His jaw clenched as he raises off of the hood of Satoru’s car, already walking away while Suguru calls, “Yo! You’ leaving, Fushiguro?”

“Nah. I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he doesn’t turn back, hopping into his driver's seat. 

Your head sits up as you hear the door open and shut, “Are we leaving?” 

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls off. Your face pulls into a frown, sitting in between the middle part of the back seat as you frown, “Are you ignoring me?” 

Once again, nothing. You scoff, crossing your arms, “Typical.” 

He ends up going to a roof top not too far from where everyone was, the lot surprisingly empty as you make it to the top. You become more irritated, narrowing your eyes as you start again, “Fushiguro—“

He’s already climbing into the backseat with you, causing you to scoot closer to the door, thinking maybe he was fed up with your shit. You thought he was gonna rough you up just in the way you liked, or even put you in your place. Either way was in your favor. 

But instead, he clutches your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he asks, “You need me, baby?” 

You blink at the question. It makes your throat go dry, and as you search his eyes, there’s no anger in them. He just needs you to answer. 

So you reply softly, “…Yes.”

His fingers dig into your cheek, forcing your head back slightly as he moves in close, his warm breath ghosting over your lips.

The softness is unexpected. It makes you a little more relaxed as he grunts,”Let me take care of you,” hovering himself above you, your back now pressing against the seats. 

“You’ comfortable?” He questions within your ear, his voice sounds concerned. Your breath hitches lightly as his gentle touch. You were unsure why this sudden moment had your spine tingle. At that, you nod your head as you pull him closer, giving him a soft peck on the lips. 

“Now you wanna be sweet and shit.”

You’re silent, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. Toji brings your face a centimeter closer, gently pressing your lips together by the drag of your throat. You feel as his full lips overpowered yours, overlapping along your mouth as he sucked your tongue. It makes your breath hitch, pressing your hand along his forearm, your nails lightly digging into the skin. 

He was nasty in the best way. He kept sucking against your lips, beginning to nod his head back and forth, thrusting his own tongue in between, the erotic pleasure of it all making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You try to keep your head from spinning as you reach up to pull his hair, deepening the kiss, enjoying the feeling it gave you. It made you shy, you could admit.

He could feel your body begin to tremble as he kisses in between your shoulder and neck, the taste of your skin being sweet on his tongue.

Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing slightly heavy as you dug your nails into his hair—you hadn’t felt this good in a while. 

You shiver in between your light giggle, “I—It tickles…” 

He chuckles against your skin, his tongue licking along the sensitive spot as he gruffly says, “You’re so fuckin’ sensitive.”  

At the drop of his words, your head lightly kneels back, a light gasp coming from you. It was soft, tiny, feminine.

His hand moved further up your thigh, placing a leg over his shoulder as he sucked the skin of your ankle. His tongue tasted every inch he could, wanting to get more of you in his mouth.

With him being hovered over you, his hand was trailing along your inner thighs, the ball of your foot fidgeting along his shoulder. It made you naturally use your free hand to slow down his, knowing that wouldn’t stop him. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, your eyes coming  down to watch your legs becoming trapped on both sides of his shoulders, his fingers coming down between your hips, making you full on jump. 

“My shy, pretty ass baby.” 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, nowhere to hide as your face felt on fire, feeling your hips tilt up from the reaction of his hand. His fingers grazed over your clit, and your hips were so warm, you almost felt cold. 

Your chest began to lightly come up and down, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as your thighs wanted to close at the feeling. Your inhales were low, hesitant, as your exhales were able to hear, shaky in your throat. 

You struggled even more with your breathing, your thighs trying to close, face scrunched up in concentration...it only turned him on more.

He applied pecks against your throat, telling you gruffly, “Spread your legs more.” 

His voice within your ear makes your eyes want to flutter shut. You attempt to listen, pulling your thighs more apart, feeling as he begins to rub at your swollen clit slowly, your opening squelching from how you had become.

He growled low in his throat as he watched you squirm and struggle to breathe. It was like a challenge, getting under your skin like this.

“Imma’ put a finger in there,” he tells you, your heart in her ears, unable to prepare as he stroked his index finger along your pussy, before slowly sinking it in between your folds. He leaned up as he kissed your ankle, pumping slowly, your walls tightening heavily around his knuckle.

Your mouth dropped open the moment he came back down to kiss you. You lightly cried along his lips, broken and whiny as you warned, “T—Toji…”

He chuckled lowly at your whimpering protest, “Relax. Imma’ add another finger.” 

You feel a stretch, aching with a burn that feels a little too good, it makes your knees weak.

“Ooh, fuck,” he grunts, your face turning away from his again as you pull his head down with another gasp, wanting to hide your face next to his ear. He talks to you, “You’re so fuckin' tight…”

He punctuated his words with a thrust of his finger, your juices dripping down his wrist as he fucked you gently with it, thumb circling your clit. 

Your head fell back, making him kiss into your neck more—which made your mouth part— trembling as you tried to grip at the back of his hair. You were always trying to keep yourself together in moments like this, not wanting to be embarrassing. You finally get a clutch at the back of his hair as you whine softly, “Don’t talk like that…”

"You're so fuckin' perfect," he ignored your plea , nipping at your pulse point, "I could play with this pretty ass pussy all night...You hear her? She keep suckin’ my fuckin’ fingers in.” 

And your pussy was. His fingers were too familiar, dragging in, coming out more soaked than before. You were practically gushing on them, your abdomen tightening each time his palm grazed your clit from how deep his knuckles went in.

A messy moan parts from your mouth, broken and struggling, quickly hushing itself as you suck in an inhale to quiet yourself. Your face is hot as you raise the back of your hand to your mouth, covering the sound you made.

"Fuck all that holding back. Imma’ make you cum on my fingers.” 

He slowly withdraws his fingers from your heat, bringing them up to your lips, smearing your arousal across them. 

"Open up," he instructs, holding his coated fingers near your mouth, "Clean them off. Taste your pussy."

His mouth is volatile, you’re never sure if you can handle it. You part your lips, feeling him slide his fingers to the back of your throat, choking lightly on them as you taste your arousal. It was sweet, tangy almost. 

When he pulls them out, he grunts, “Good fuckin’ girl,” roughly pulling you into a kiss, spreading your legs wider as he fucks his fingers back inside of you. His arm traps the back of your knees, keeping your thighs spread completely open, allowing you to feel everything. Your lids blink rapidly, clawing at the skin of his arms as you nearly fight with him, gasping out, “O—oh my god. Toji.” 

“You’ sound cute as fuck. Haven’t heard you like this in a minute,” he brings his ear closer to your lips, “Keep talking to me, pretty. Tell me how you feel.”

You can’t exactly see his face, which makes you more comfortable as you express in urgency, “Fingers feel too big…” you whimper, “…but it feels good…”

"My dick is bigger. Imma’ keep my fingers deep where you need them most," he growls lowly in your ear, twisting his hand to push deeper inside, "I’m not gonna pull them out until you cum. So take my shit like a big girl, I know you can.”

You close your eyes to shield your red face, his finger hitting a particularly good spot, which makes you nearly jump out of your skin, thighs wanting to slam shut, jolting upwards, whimpering as he tugs you back.

"Nuh uh, keep 'em wide," he demands firmly, thrusting his fingers harder against that sensitive spot, curling them to hit your g-spot directly which makes you moan out, quickly pressing your hand to your mouth again, “You’re clenching around my fingers hard as fuck. You’re about to cum.”

“Toji,” you can’t stop that pleading whimper, wishing he’d stop talking. It makes you gush even more on his fingers, tightening your hold on his arms, “Your mouth is bad…”

“You love how I’m talking to you, nasty ass.” 

He starts pumping his fingers faster, twisting and curling them to stimulate your inner walls, "Stop makin' those fuckin’ noises and cum already. Them’ little cute ass whimpers making me wanna put my mouth on you, let you gush all on my face. Don’t piss me off.”

You gasp out, “I…think I’m cumming…” you feel numb, your walls kidnapping his fingers, so much that he couldn’t move them anymore. Your hips tremble as your thighs shudder chaotically, holding onto him as you groan out a deep moan, sticking your own fingers into your mouth to hush your sounds. 

Too blinded by your own pleasure, your brain is fuzzy as Toji unbuckles the belt of his pants, pulling out the heavy weight of his dick that slaps along his abdomen, fingers cuffing his fat tip that smushes along the sensitive gush of your folds. 

The pressure in between your legs is at its peak, seeing as Toji hovers atop of you, pressing his forehead against yours as he begins nudging himself inside. You’re chest to chest. You feel like you’re being torn, an aching pleasure that always makes your eyes roll back. Your legs shudder ridiculously as you gasp, pressing your hand along his abdomen, that inexplicable pinch all the way to your chest. It’s like the deepest cramp you’ve ever experienced, if that cramp was twisted with an intense amount of pleasure. 

You whimper as you feel his arm reach down, taking your hand within his palm as he grunts, “Hold it,” listening with a pout as you intertwine your fingers together.

He slowly sinks deeper into you. His muscles flex beneath your touch, the ridges of his abdomen pressed firmly against your palm. 

With each inch he buries inside, your body clenches around him, the sensation bordering on pain yet feeling so good as your back arches beneath him. You can see the effort it takes for him to hold still, his control evident in the tautness of his jaw. 

“I'm tryna to go slow, baby. I know,” he coos to you, bottoming out, filling you completely.

Your eyes are fluttering shut at the fullness, pulling your face up to drag your mouth along his, digging your fingers into the palm of his hand as let out a long, desperate moan. You feel yourself gush in between his balls pressed along the back of your thighs, gasping deeply as the pressure builds up before finally releasing.

He groans lowly, a rumble vibrating through his chest as he feels your walls spasm around him. "Ooh, shit, baby. Cumming all on this dick. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his voice husky with desire.

Keeping your hand captive in his, he lifts it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles before bringing it back down to rest on his side once more. Withdrawing almost all the way, he lets you adjust to the emptiness before pushing back in, setting a steady, deep rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, mingling with your ragged breathing and muffled cries.

You finally find words to say, but they come out in pathetic whimpers, chest heaving up and down as you pant, “Feel so full, baby. Just n—needed you…” your eyes begin to glisten with pleasured tears, your other hand reaching around to claw at his back, “Harder. H—harder, please.*”

“Harder, baby?” He mocks your words in your tone, arrogantly chuckling as you sniffle in response, whiny, “Yeah…”

A smirk plays on his lips at your desperate pleas, his movements becoming more forceful as he pounds into you. A serenade of skin ricocheting, his dick dropping in and out, bruising your outer walls. 

One of his hands slides down to grip your hip, using it to pull you onto him harder while the other continues to hold your interlaced fingers.

You take your free hand, using it to spread yourself as you whimper pathetically, “Yeah, Daddy. Ughn, right there,” blabbering nonsense, only focusing on the way his dick sinks deeper and deeper each time.

“This how you wanna be fucked?”

He then raises arm, muscles flexing within the veins as he clutches the door handle above your head, shoving his hips down, watching as you frown, you’re being fucked too good. 

You brokenly gasp, blinking your tears away as you drag out, “Ba-by, I…” you can’t stop gasping, “Love the way you handle my pussy, baby…”

He leans closer, arm still flexing above your head as he deeply grunts, “Keep talking.” 

Your face is warm at that, and you nod, trying to make your words sensible as you say, “Been wanting you to fuck me like this all night…”

“Just like this, huh?” He gives a hard thrust, a whine coming from you as you kneel your head back, groaning as you yank his face closer to yours, spreading your legs wider, letting him go even deeper. 

“Augh—oh my fuckin’ god, baby.” 

You’re spent, crazy even, taking your free hand as you go in between your hips, grabbing for his dick that drops in and out, wrapping your fingers around the base as you help him fuck you. The wrist of your palm bounces and rubs along your clit, and you softly cry, “Justttt like that.”

He starts moving faster, the car rocking from the force of his thrusts, your moans echoing off the metal. His grey eyes narrow, fixated on your face as he watches you fall apart under him. 

With each snap of his hips, his tip hits that sweet spot inside you, making you writhe and beg for more. The wet sounds of sex fill the air, mixing with your needy whines until you're a mess of pleasure and desperation. 

"You never took dick like this. Always running from me,” he pulls his hand out of yours, raising your legs directly next to his face on each side of his head—you hated this position. You were trapped. 

“‘Can feel you milking my shit, sucking me in deeper,” he’s circling his hips, impaling himself inside, watching as your pussy becomes creamier each time he pulls out.

You’re silent at this point, unable to talk, move, anything. You try to place your hand over your mouth, or even pull him closer to scream, but he’s there, snatching your hand away, and you can’t hold yourself back anymore.

As you lose control, he wraps an arm around your waist, gripping your hip tightly as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. His other hand reaches up to cover your mouth, muffling your screams as he fucks you senseless. 

“Should let you be loud as fuck. Put the fuckin’ windows down,” he grunts, “Cum on Daddy’s dick, baby. This what you’ been crying for all night. I need it. Imma’ drink it all up.” 

Your body shakes violently, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts and the stifling of your sobs. He doesn't relent, driving into you with unbridled passion, determined to claim every ounce of pleasure from your quivering form.

“Toji—” you’re clawing him at this point, another orgasm hitting you, your abdomen trembling as his tip coats white, and you’re crying like a baby.

“‘Fuck are you crying for? This is what you wanted. Spread your pussy. Open that shit up, I’m not done with you.”

You’re a sobbing mess, listening to him nonetheless, taking your shaking hands down as you spread yourself more, watching him go in and out, in and out. You’re unable to do anything else, bringing your face up to meet him as your eyes roll back, “Fuuuck.”

He smirks, pleased with your submission as he claims your lips in a dominating kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. His tongue invades your mouth, mimicking the deep, hard thrusts of his dick.

“You’ cumming again?” He questions, only messing with you, knowing you were.

His face is shoved into your cheek as he cockily laughs, your teary eyes rolling back as you grunt out, “I’m cumming again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhh.”

“Who’re you doing all that for?”

“You, baby. Fu-ck,”  your last curse is as if you’re mad at him, your cum dripping onto the seats, spreading all along his abdomen as you spurt out again.

You’re about to black out, your fuzzy state of mind begging him in a whine, “Cum in me. Cum in meee, baby.” 

But he’s already pulling out, leaning down as he shakes his head chaotically, running his heavy and long tongue all around your pussy, cleaning you up as your legs shake as if you’d been tased. He can see you’re finally coming back down, toes curling as you hold your legs, almost covering your face with them as you put your knees to your chest. Now you’re realizing everything you’ve said.

He smacks his lips, “Don’t do that,” pulling your legs open to look at you, “You okay, baby?" His voice is calm, almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking he just gave you. 

He gently strokes your thigh, waiting for you to come back to yourself. "You’ good now?”

You blink a couple of times, searching his face in almost disbelief. You nod your head, wiping your eyes as you ask, “…Can I have a kiss?”

He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Cute ass," leaning in, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. His warmth envelops you, soothing the aftermath of your intense climax. You feel him gently rub his tip in between your folds again, whimpering against his mouth as he chuckles against yours, spanking you harshly as he then says, “We need to head back.”

“You love me? You’re not mad at me?” You ask softly, keeping his face hovered along your mouth.

He pulls back, looking at you seriously, “Never mad at you, baby. Just frustrated when you act up. You’ ready to go?” 

You blink, tilting your head as you then say, “Maybe I wanna act up a little more.” 

“That’s cool. Imma’ fuck you outside this car next.” 

“Fushiguro!” 

“Fushiguro!” he mocks back in a girly squeal, ignoring your groan as he sucks your mouth into a kiss. He was gonna love you in any mood you were in. 

“Yeah, okay. Shut that shit up. Get dressed.”

[itsswritten]

Cauldron-born | Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word count: 4.1K

Summary: When an unexplainable energy pulls the Inner Circle to barge into the Day court, they're all shocked at what they find. But it's Azriel who can't help wonder if his dreams have finally been answered.

Part 1

A cackle pierced through you as Cressida  looked upon you with a devilish glint.

“You believe you are a witch?” Her tone caught you off guard. Her patronisation questioning everything you had ever held to be true. Surely you were? It was the only thing that made some sense. Your brows furrowed  tightly as you regarded the woman who had offered you shelter and refuge over the past few years.

Her laughing died down, her beautiful skin perfect by the ruins and spells she’d used for centuries, not displaying a single crease visible upon her flesh.

“Oh child what an easy life this would have been if we were more akin.”

~

You sat upright with a jolt, the murmuring of a dream— a memory whispering at the corners of your mind. Your heart swelling with the familiarity of someone you missed, despite her disposition, her cruel tone, that mean glint in her eye— you missed her. But as you felt the plush sheets beneath your body you knew you were no longer in the witches cottage at the corners of The Middle.

You had left that plagued land a while ago now.

A soft rap roused you from your thinking. The usual wake up call must have been the noise to stir you from your slumber in the first place, a familiar rumble of a tone behind the oak doors. 

“Come in,” you replied softly. Your feet swinging off the side of the bed, as you walked towards the large curtain that hung from the high ceilings to the dark obsidian floor beneath your feet.

It should have been cool to the touch under your toes, but the house had a magical way of ensuring your comfort— always.

You heard the bedroom door swing open, your back to the welcomed guest as your fingers dropped from the luxe curtain fabric you had just pulled, inviting the warmth of the morning sun into your rooms.

“Blessed be my morning star, did you sleep well?” A deep sing-song tone bellowed into the room, a playfulness dancing on his words.

You cringed under the greeting, choosing not to turn to show your disdain at his choice of greeting and nickname. The sun was only just rising, sending splintered beams of light across your bedroom floor and walls.

“Helion, must you greet me in such a way?” He could practically hear the way you rolled your eyes and cringed at his words. You hadn’t turned to him yet, your gaze settling on the tops of the city below that the curtains had just revealed.

The view from your bedroom had changed more frequently in recent years. No longer the welcomed view of your childhood— the farm fields you grew up in, the misty fog that covered the northern part of the continent that you had always found comfort in.

No longer the harsh winding forest, dark trees that looked more like creatures that lurked outside the witches cottage— Cressida’s home— if you could even call it a home. Her den, rooted in The Middle.

No longer the glistening golden rooftops of Day, the sparkling white walls that danced the sunlight off the buildings in a way that made the whole court shimmer.

Instead, the panes of glass showed three mountainous peaks, dusted with snow in the distance and a city below— Velaris, the city of starlight.

Or the city of slumber. You were not well acquainted with the routines of the Night court residents. Them usually rousing from sleep well later into the day. However it did make your mornings quieter.

The auras of people settled in sleep, their noise, their colours dimming as you watched the kaleidoscope of energy dance lazily along to rooftops. It would be beautiful, if it wasn’t so loud.

You winced slightly at the sight, the lights and colours nudging on your mind. Poking and prodding a little harder than they had yesterday. It had been several days since Helion’s spell. A string of wryds to help contain your ability— dim it down, to subdue it, make it more bearable— but the spell was wearing thin.

Ever since that night—that fateful night where you almost left this world— your ability had been at a loss. Something that had always been as easy as breathing, as easy as a crisp night breeze filling your lungs, was now overwhelming and terrifying. If it wasn’t for Helion and his spell cleaving you're not even sure you’d still be here, in fact you’re certain it would have consumed you. 

As beautiful as the auras of the world were, if you couldn’t control it— it would be the death of you. 

“How are you feeling?” You had finally turned to Helion now, his question lingering in the air. 

How were you feeling? 

You could see, feel, taste Helion’s energy in front of you. A golden glow, so fitting for the High Lord of Day. It beamed within him like an orb of sunlight. You couldn’t touch it though, not like you used to, not like when you were a child and you used the naively play with creatures auras like a toy. Not like how Cressida had taught you to toy with people’s auras which was far from play.

That sense of control had broken, leaving jagged scars across your body to match.

Your hands, almost subconsciously went to touch the rugged scar that ran from your shoulder down to your torso. It tingled under your thoughts, but you pulled your hand back. Not allowing another moment to be wasted on what had happened and the marks it had left on you. 

That was why you needed Helion and his spells. He had a way of dimming it with his own power, making it easier for you to navigate your day-to-day without being utterly consumed by the noise and colours of everyone else.

“I feel okay actually,” you had responded, your eyes moving up to the lines on your friends face. He smiled softly at you.

“This is the longest you’ve been without us having to spell cleave, but today—“

“Today could be a noisy day,” you finished his sentence, understanding what he was implying.

Tody, you were to begin training with the Valkyries.

“Those priestesses are already a bundle of emotions when they pass you, I think resealing the spell would be wise. Amren agrees.” 

Well then, it wasn’t really up for debate. 

You cocked a brow at Helion before moving towards the table in your room. That was now adorned with breakfast, courtesy of the house of course. Helion folded his arms across his broad chest. He still wore the colours of Day, white and pristine, glittered in gold jewellery along his wrists, earrings bejewelled with sunlight themselves. Grand and beautiful, just like him. However he looked so out of place against the dark background of the Night interior. As ornate as the House of Wind was, Helion didn’t fit. 

No, he belonged among his own court, but the High Lord of day had left his court to accompany you. That in itself was such a large display of loyalty. You swallowed your guilt as you sat at the table, spreading butter across the warm toast and taking a bite. 

“But of course the decision is always yours to make y/n,” Helion spoke, his tone as warm as the butter melting upon your breakfast.

They only wanted what was best for you, you knew that. Reminded yourself in moments like these. But you couldn’t help the feelings that slipped up to the surface. Since you’d come to the Fae courts and discovered who you were—what you were. Every piece of guidance came with a weight you felt like you couldn’t refuse. 

You were the Mother’s daughter— Blessed be— you had status, respect, power— to do as you please, but that came with a responsibility that felt too heavy to bear. Every decision you made had to be considered, because it didn’t only affect you but the entire world and the peoples and creatures within it.

That meant, even if you wanted to try and push another day without the spell. See how far you could go as the spell thinned, you couldn’t risk it. As it wasn’t only you who it would endanger, but every living thing.

When Helion had found you— a shattered version of yourself— he’d spent the time piecing you back together. Perhaps out of duty to begin with, but somewhere along that journey a genuine friendship grew. However that would never negate from who you were, and what you were born to do— what your life’s duty was to be, and what he, what Amren, whatever everyone else on this island needed to do ensure you accomplished it.

“Let’s reseal the spell,” you muttered before taking another chomp of your toast, a softer look on your eyes this time. “…after breakfast.”

Helion smiled warmly, joining you at the table as he had done now every morning since he saved you.

~

The simmering of the fresh spell lingered on your skin, Helion’s magic coursing an invisible shield around you. The spell acting as a filter to the aura you were always so sensitive to.

The early days of his spells were always the nicest, at least they were nowadays. After building your tolerance back up with Helion, the first week of his spell usually lasted with minimal discomfort. He always had to be near though, his rooms were only down the hall to yours.

Sometimes your tolerance was less, or someone or some creature’s aura louder than usual that you needed him to reseal. It was why for the past year he’d essentially been attached to you at the hip, like a doting father or brother. And then there was Amren— doting wasn’t the word you would use. But she was always there too now. Out of duty of course, the way she’d collapsed down to her knees in your first encounter revealed how strongly her loyalty would lie to you.

Or lie to what you stood for.

Amren, the ancient one knew what your existence meant. Felt it in her bones, remembered the murmurings of stories and prophecies she listened to back in her own adolescent years. She knew what was coming, and knew how important it was that the Mother’s daughter had her ability under control.

So here you were, stood before Helion and Amren like a girl on her first day of school. Helion tightened one of the straps on the leathers you had been told to wear. He couldn’t attend the training class, only approved males were sanctioned so he would stay the floor below. In a waiting room. A handful of books already tucked under his arm.

“Stop fussing over the girl,” Amren snapped, her expression as hard as it always was. Despite her being utterly devoted to you and your protection, that dedication did not come with a slither of a smile.

You may have found her scary, if she didn’t remind you so much of someone you missed.

Helion gave you a knowing look before playfully winking at you. His large hands coming to squeeze your shoulders.

“How do you feel?” He asked, ignoring Amren at his side.

“The world is quiet once more,” you replied in a slightly chipper tone that garnered a smile from Helion.

He tapped the top of your head, “If we need to reseal, or something triggers it you leave right away, okay?”

You nodded in response along with a hum in agreement. This training was supposed to do the opposite of just that, however there were concerns. After the inner circle had barged their way into the Day Court a month ago, after Helion revealed who you were— a lot had changed.

Your belongings— which wasn’t very many— were packed up, along with you and Helion as you were practically shipped to the Night Court. You realised when you arrived how this had always been Helion’s intention. Why he’d taken the time to tell you the names of the Night Courts inner circle all those months ago. It was because they held significance in your journey.

The Night Court was safer, Velaris having an ancient spell that had protected it for so long. Amren was to teach you, she had knowledge that even Helion’s libraries didn’t share. There was Rhys too, with his mind and magic who was a crucial part to play in you regaining control of your power.

And now there were the Valkyries, who you were to train with.

~

You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes dancing upon the still sleeping city. It was quieter now, thanks to Helion. No noise and colours probing into your mind.

It was peaceful, and yet so lonely. When you had full control of your ability, back when it felt like an extension of you. You could slip in and out of it with ease, danced with it, sung with it. Now, it felt like a headache that could only be dulled with Helion’s magic.

“It is the mind-stilling which is a priority in your training. I believe it could be key to you regaining control over your abilities. You will train with the Valkyrie’s everyday until you master it.” Amren spoke. You didn’t turn to look at her, your eyes still gazing onto the cityscape below. Your mind wandering to what the people below were up to, what they may have been dreaming of. Thinking back to a time when your life was much simpler, when the most daunting part of your week was whether one of the village boys would fancy you.

You stopped yourself there. Stopped yourself from indulging and reminiscing in the past. The continent was so far away now, as was that version of you.

“What if it doesn’t work?” You turned to Amren, concern evident in your tone. The sun kissing your face as your brows furrowed.

She was sat in the shade, back against the cool stone wall of the house, “It has to.”

A silence settled between you both. Amren was right, this had to work because Mother be damned if it didn’t.

~

Nesta cringed as she watched the priestesses fuss. She had told them to be on their best behaviour, but in the presence of a living deity the females couldn’t help themselves.

They blushed and whispered, giggled and muttered words of prayer, some even curtseying as soon as they stepped onto the rooftop. Rollings of ‘Blessed be’ harmonised from their tongues and even Gwyn’s eyes widened in the presence of you. The female looked ready to burst with excitement.

There was something about your presence that was otherworldly, not just in your beauty but in the way you moved among the earth spoke of grace. Nesta couldn’t believe her eyes when she had found out you’d grown up on the continent on a farm and then The Middle— with a witch! And yet there was a regality that existed within you that couldn’t be taught, it had just always been, you had been born with it, cauldron-born to be exact.

You stood in front of them all, your own embarrassment from the fuss evident in your averting gaze. Gently— with delicate grace— you bowed your head towards the priestesses, responding appropriately with a whispering “Blessed be,” which only seemed to elicit more noise from the females. Enough noise that it took you a beat to notice the gust of wind that blew across your face as a shadow blocked out the sun for a moment. With a thud two large Illyrian males landed in the middle of the rooftop balcony.

Helion’s spell had been working fine till now, not a whisper or a simmering of aura— till you saw him.

Felt him, scented him.

In a flurry of steps you found your back pressed against the railing on the rooftop. The very presence of someone causing your feet to stumble back, hands clutching the railing tightly in a blur of a moment. He was here. The very male you often found yourself dreaming of when your mind wasn’t caught in the past.

Azriel.

Amren had launched from her place, she had been watching you so closely that even just a tremor of difference she would notice. But it wasn’t just Amren who had stepped towards you, the Shadowsinger himself had taken several large strides since landing as if he’d also always been watching.

“Do I need to get Helion?” Amren asked with an urgency in her tone.

Your breaths were shallow, your gaze falling to your feet as you tried to focus. You had been caught off guard, in the silence of spell you hadn’t expected any noise at all. You hadn’t been affected by the lively group of priestesses, Nesta’s silver aura hadn’t been licking at your mind or even the thousands of people in the city below hadn’t affected you.

But him. He had triggered something, somehow.

Azriel looked upon you with a concern that felt heavy. Hesitant as he stood only a step behind Amren.

Had he startled you? When him and Cassian had landed? Azriel couldn’t deny he had rushed to this training session, after spending the month on a mission. Rhys had sent word that you were to begin training, and the swell in Azriel’s chest was enough to have Cassian trying to keep up to the Spymaster on their entire flight home.

Azriel’s eyes wandered over you, his shadows whispering their own concerns. They had noticed your nerves, just as he had noticed them during his first encounter with you. It was his job to notice the little things, his duty as spymaster to notice the things others couldn’t, but even he couldn’t explain why he felt so attuned to you.

The morning breeze gently blew across your face, pulling the pieces of hair that were loose from your braid. You had calmed yourself, calmed yourself enough to raise your head to the audience on the rooftop. He could see you now, fully, for the first time in a month, and Azriel forgot how to breathe.

Divine.

He thought it was his shadows that whispered it, but maybe it was his own thoughts too. You were the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on— angelic and saintly.

Divine was the only word for it.

Divine, divine, divine. His shadows sang.

“No, I am fine,” you finally replied to Amren. She looked at you sceptically, a look in her face that told you if you were lying then there would be hell to pay. You repeated yourself though, stepping away from the railing you had pressed yourself against.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet. Not after what he had just triggered, that tightness in your chest was new and overwhelming to say the least. It was different though, to the way auras usually felt that left you with confusion and questions to why the Shadowsinger felt, smelt, tasted so different to everyone else.

You were grateful for the male beside him who decided to speak. “Sorry we probably startled you, just dropping from the sky like that— we tend to do that sometimes.” It was Cassian who had spoken, a warmness in his tone that reminded you of Helion. There was a twinkle in his eye of light-heartedness that seemed to dissipate the unease that had settled among the group.

You offered him a soft smile that only seemed to spur him on. His tone bellowing as he outstretched his arms in introduction, “I’m Cassian, and this is—“

“Azriel,” you finished his sentence for him. Not being able to stop yourself from saying his name out loud. Not being able to stop yourself from finally looking at him.

“Right, Azriel. You’ve already met,” Cassian replied, a look in his eye as he glanced between his brother and you.

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair how much lovelier he was than in your dreams— which you didn’t think could be possible. The handsome lines of his tanned face, the dark hair that fell in loose curls and those large wings that were tucked behind his back. Your eyes dragged across him, finally landing on his own gaze. How it brought you back to that first moment you met him—how he had trapped you in his gaze back in the courtyard of Day.

“And I’m Gwyn,” the words had practically burst from the red-headed female. Her deciding now was clearly the right time to introduce herself, not that you minded. In fact if she hadn’t you may have just stared at the Shadowsinger all day, “…and I think I can speak on behalf of us all, but it is truly an honour that you wish to train with us.”

There were some murmurings from the priestesses then, as if in agreement and even Cassian tipped his head in bow towards you.

There it was again, that weight you held. Crushing and terrifying, they put you an a pedestal, showered you with adoration you weren’t too sure you deserved. With subtle strain you forced a gentle smile onto your lips.

“The honour is all mine Gwyn,” and you meant it. The people on this balcony had earned that praise more than you ever had.

“She just said my name,” Gwyn whispered in disbelief to her friends, her cheeks going rosy at the recognition. Nesta simply rolled their eyes, Emery teasingly nudged Gwyn with her elbow.

But it was a sentiment Azriel was still stuck on too. You had said his name, knew his name— knew him. His name on your lips was like a song, a melody you serenaded him with. His shadows had felt it too, your recognition of their master causing a stir that had them wanting to reach out—which they would have if Azriel didn’t have them on such a tight leash. Azriel only tore his gaze from you when Amren spoke up.

“Enough about honour and names,” Amren snapped, her eyes not landing on you but the the two males who had just arrived. They understand her stare, her tone, the waft of her had as she strode back to her spot in the shade.

“Right let’s start ladies, find a space and we’ll begin with stretches,” Cassian commanded, his tone authoritative that had the females moving into motion. Even Azriel snapped himself from his thoughts, collecting himself as he stalked towards one side of the balcony.

You followed suit, following the motion of the other females and finding yourself in amongst the group to begin. You noticed though how Nesta had come to your left, Emery flanking your right, and Gwyn directly behind you. As if creating their own shield. Perhaps a statement to the swooning priestesses— regardless, you were appreciative.

Stretching began, and you copied Cassian’s movements in front of you. In sync with the other females around you. Moving your muscles in a way you hadn’t for a while, stretching the aches you didn’t know were there. Cassian stood in front of the group, bellowing whenever the stretch would change.

The movement was welcome though. You’d always had an active life. Growing up on a farm, tending to the crops and harvests had been your way. You weren’t new to the ache of a hard days work. Then you’d spent your time in The Middle, with Cressida who had an unrelenting method of training you.

“I’ve heard you’re not a novice?” Nesta asked you as the group was split in two. One side had been pulled to practice mind-stilling, the other, your group, had been given wooden staffs to practice more physical exercises.

You took the staff in your hand, curling your fingers around the rod. Nesta wasn’t referencing your past though. She was asking about your time in Day, you hummed in response with a nod. “I trained with Helion’s sentries for a few months,” it helped…for a while. Your progress had soon dropped off though, plateaued, which was why you were here. To see if the Valkyrie way of training would help in any way.

Nesta nodded in response, before tapping your staff twice with hers. “Show me then,” she moved into a defensive stance and your brow quirked.

It was a challenge, she had been the only one who had dared, the only person to treat you with some semblance or normalcy— and it made you smile.

a/n: well here is part 2, I’m sorry this has quite literally taken months to get this instalment live, so I really appreciate any of you who might still be around to read this! I do think this has the potential to be a slightly bigger series than I first anticipated, but I guess that’s my fault for giving our mc the coolest back story ever 😅 anyway enjoy my loves 🤍 - Lottie xx

[jupiterpilgrim]

Heaven for Three

Yujin x Rei x male reader

word count: 20K

Okay, so here you are: standing in the middle of Yujin’s apartment, your heart is doing a weird drum solo against your ribs, a frantic beat mixing anticipation and a touch of nervous energy. It’s been almost two fucking months. Sixty-three days, if you’re counting, and yeah, you’ve counted every single one. Sixty-three days of shitty time zones, glitchy video calls that froze her face mid-laugh or mid-sentence, and texts that always felt like they were missing something vital, like her touch, her scent, the specific way her eyes crinkle when she’s genuinely amused. You glance at the small, ridiculously expensive cake sitting on her clean kitchen counter, next to a little pile of carefully chosen ‘welcome back’ trinkets, nothing major, just stupid inside-joke things you knew would make her smile.

A Hello Kitty keychain because you know she's obsessed with, some ridiculously flavored snacks she can only get overseas, a framed silly picture of you two from before she left, pulling faces at the camera. It feels both inadequate and excessive after so long apart. You check your phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. Her flight landed an hour ago. Traffic from Incheon can be a bitch, but she should be getting close. The lie you told her: "babe, I'm so sorry, work is chaos, I don't think I can get away until super late, maybe not even tonight", sits heavy in your gut, but the thought of the surprise wipes away the guilt. You wanted this moment, needed it, after weeks of feeling like a background character in her whirlwind life. You needed to see her face when she realized you were here... that you hadn't let the distance win.

You wander into her living room, running a hand over the back of her sofa, picturing her curled up there. God, you miss her. Not just the big moments, but the mundane shit too, arguing over what movie to watch, stealing bites of her food, the way she hums off-key when she’s cooking. The tour looked amazing, professionally, you know it was huge for her and the group, you saw the clips, the screaming crowds, the flashy stages. You were proud, genuinely. But fuck, it was hard. Every picture she posted with her members, every interview where she talked about how much fun she was having, felt like a tiny pinprick to your lonely heart, even though you knew it was irrational. You shake your head, trying to banish the insecurity.

That’s why you planned the other surprise.

One you know she'll love.

A whole week, just the two of you, cocooned away from the world in that ridiculously luxurious mountain cabin you somehow managed to book. Heated floors, private chef service if you wanted it (but you chose absolute privacy), panoramic views, and the pièce de résistance—that outdoor hot spring overlooking a snowy landscape. You grin, imagining her reaction to that. She’s going to lose her mind. You just need her to walk through the door first.

Then, you hear it. The unmistakable sound of a key scraping against the lock. Your breath hitches. Showtime. You quickly duck behind the edge of the doorway leading to the kitchen, heart pounding like crazy now. The door swings open, and you hear the clatter of a suitcase being dropped, followed by a heavy, exhausted sigh that seems to carry the weight of the entire continent she just traversed.

"Finally," Yujin mutters.

You hear her kick off her shoes, the soft thud against the floorboards echoing in the quiet apartment. She’s probably expecting to collapse onto her couch, maybe order takeout, and face the mountain of unpacking tomorrow. She definitely isn't expecting you. You hold your breath, listening to her footsteps padding further into the apartment. She rounds the corner into the living area, probably heading for the light switch, and freezes. You step out from your hiding spot, a slightly shaky grin plastered on your face.

"Surprise?"

Her eyes, wide and shadowed with tiredness beneath the brim of the baseball cap pulled low on her forehead, take a second to register you. First, confusion flickers across her face, then a flash of alarm—maybe thinking you were an intruder—before recognition dawns. Her jaw literally drops. "What the… you… how?" she stammers. The exhaustion mask cracks, replaced by pure, unadulterated shock. And then, it melts away into something else entirely, something raw and overwhelming. Her eyes well up instantly, shimmering under the dim hallway light. "You said… you couldn't…" she chokes out, taking a hesitant step towards you, then another, faster one. Before you can even reply, she closes the distance, launching herself at you with a force that nearly knocks you backward.

Her arms wrap around your neck like she’s drowning and you’re the only life raft, burying her face against your shoulder. You stagger back a step, wrapping your arms tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against you, finally feeling her solid warmth after weeks of holding pixels and air. Her scent, that familiar mix of travel staleness and her underlying sweetness, floods your senses, more intoxicating than any perfume. She’s trembling, or maybe you both are, clinging to each other desperately.

"Fuck, I missed you," she sobs into your jacket. "I missed you so much."

You just hold her tighter, burying your face in her hair, murmuring, "Me too, baby. God, me too," over and over again, unable to form more coherent words. The sheer relief of having her back in your arms is dizzying, eclipsing everything else.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. Her face is tear-streaked, her cap askew, her eyes red-rimmed but shining with a fierce, desperate joy. Her hands come up to cup your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones as if verifying you're real. "You're really here," she whispers, a watery smile breaking through. "You lied to me." There’s no heat in it, only wonder.

"Best lie I ever told," you manage.

You lean down and finally kiss her, a collision of longing and relief. It’s not gentle; it’s desperate, hungry, a reclaiming. Her lips are soft and instantly responsive, kissing you back with an equal measure of pent-up need. It’s messy and frantic, tongues tangling, hands clutching, trying to bridge the gap of the last two months in a single moment. It tastes like her, like exhaustion, like the faint saltiness of her tears, and it’s the best fucking thing you’ve tasted in sixty-three days.

You pull apart, both breathless, foreheads resting against each other. "Happy welcome home," you whisper against her lips. She lets out a shaky laugh, a sound that makes your heart clench. "This is… way better than takeout." She finally seems to register her surroundings, her gaze flicking past you to the cake and gifts on the counter. "And you brought cake?" A real smile, wide and bright, finally lights up her tired face. "Of course. And some other stupid stuff." You gently disentangle yourself, keeping one hand linked with hers, and lead her towards the kitchen. She picks up the ridiculous keychain, her laugh louder this time. "You remembered!" She hugs it to her chest like it's treasure before eagerly tearing into the snacks. You watch her, contentment washing over you. Seeing her here, safe, happy, touching the silly gifts you brought… It feels like clicking back into place.

She’s halfway through a weirdly flavored chip, eyes drooping slightly as the adrenaline rush starts to fade, replaced by the bone-deep weariness of international travel. "Okay," she says, rubbing her eyes. "As much as I want to just stand here and kiss you senseless until tomorrow, I think I might actually pass out vertically." She manages a tired grin. "Bed?" You shake your head, reaching out to take the chip bag from her hand, a playful glint in your eye. "Not just yet. I have one more surprise." Her eyebrows shoot up, curiosity momentarily chasing away the fatigue. "Another one? What could possibly top you ambushing me in my own apartment?" You grab your phone, pulling up the booking confirmation for the mountain house, complete with pictures of the stunning interior, the snow-dusted peaks outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the steaming outdoor hot spring.

You turn the screen towards her. "How about a week of this? Starting tomorrow. Just you and me. No schedules, no managers, no interruptions. Our own private little world." Her eyes scan the screen, widening progressively with each photo she swipes through. The chip bag slips completely from her other hand, scattering onto the floor unnoticed. Then she looks up at you, eyes blazing with an incandescent mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy that completely obliterates any lingering trace of tiredness. "Are you serious?" she breathes. "A whole week? There?" You nod, unable to stop grinning. "Booked and paid for. Pack your warmest clothes... and maybe not much else." That last part gets you the reaction you were hoping for. She lets out an earsplitting shriek of pure happiness, jumping up and down on the spot before throwing her arms around your neck again, kissing you wildly all over your face—cheeks, nose, forehead, lips.

"Oh my god! Oh my GOD! You absolute lunatic! I fucking love you!" she laughs breathlessly against your skin. "A hot spring? Seriously? Outside? In the snow?" The tiredness is completely gone. She pulls back, grabbing your hands, her eyes dancing. "Wait, we leave tomorrow? What time? I need to pack! What should I bring? Is there snow right now? Can we go sledding? Oh my god, just us for a week…" The questions tumble out of her, fast and excited, her mind already racing ahead to the mountains, to the seclusion, to the uninterrupted time with you. The strain of the past two months, the worry, the distance, it all seems to evaporate in the face of this grand gesture, this promise of reconnection. She squeezes your hands, her face radiating pure, unadulterated bliss. The apartment, the unpacking, the jet lag are all forgotten, replaced by the dazzling prospect of the week ahead.

—

The next morning dawns bright and ridiculously early, not that either of you got much sleep. Packing is a blur of excited energy and low-key chaos. Yujin, despite her professed exhaustion just hours before, is practically bouncing off the walls, flitting between her closet and her suitcases like a hummingbird on espresso. You try to inject some calm organization, making sure essentials like chargers, toiletries, and the really warm coats make it in, while she debates the merits of bringing five different oversized hoodies versus six. "They're for comfort," she insists, holding up two nearly identical grey ones. "Crucial for optimal relaxation!" You just laugh, shaking your head and adding her favorite fuzzy socks to the pile.

Loading the car feels like a victory, the city streets gradually giving way to highways, then winding country roads. The further you drive from Seoul, the more the tension seems to drain from Yujin’s shoulders, replaced by a palpable sense of freedom. She’s got her feet up on the dashboard, a habit you usually nag her about, but not today, scrolling through playlists, and chattering away. She tells you about the last few gigs, the roar of the crowd in Manila, the weird hotel food in Jakarta, the sheer relief when they nailed that difficult choreography transition during the final encore in Bangkok. She doesn’t dwell on the negatives, but you can read between the lines; the gruelling schedule, the lack of sleep, the constant pressure...

"Honestly," she sighs, leaning her head back against the seat, eyes closed for a moment, "by the end, I was just running on fumes and caffeine. Seeing the fans is amazing, always, but… fuck, I needed this. Needed you."

She reaches over, her hand finding yours on the center console, fingers intertwining tightly. "I just want to... melt. No schedules, no makeup unless I feel like it, just… exist. With you." Her thumb strokes the back of your hand, sending little shivers up your arm despite the car's heating blasting. You squeeze her fingers, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles.

"Melting is the primary objective for the week, Captain."

She grins, her eyes sparkling. "Aye aye."

The landscape transforms dramatically as you climb higher, tarmac roads turning into gravel tracks, the air growing crisp and smelling faintly of pine. Eventually, the road becomes impassable for the car. "End of the line," you announce, pulling into a small, designated clearing barely big enough for one vehicle. "Time for phase two." You both bundle up in layers; thermal wear, thick sweaters, insulated jackets, hats, gloves. The air bites at your exposed cheeks the moment you step out of the car's warmth. It’s invigorating. You haul your backpacks and duffels from the trunk, the silence profound, broken only by the wind whispering through the tall trees and the distant chirping of unseen birds. The path forward is marked but looks barely used, winding uphill through dense woods dusted with a layer of yesterday’s snow that crunches satisfyingly under your boots.

It's not a hardcore trek, but it's enough to get your blood pumping and reinforce the delicious feeling of isolation. Yujin, surprisingly energetic, takes the lead, every so often, she stops, pulling out her phone to snap pictures of frost-covered branches or panoramic valley views glimpsed through breaks in the trees. "Okay, this is already insane," she breathes, her breath misting in the cold air, turning back to grin at you. "Worth the hike." You nod, catching up to her, stealing a quick, cold-nosed kiss. "Told you."

After maybe thirty minutes of steady climbing, the trees thin out, and you see it. Nestled on a slight plateau, overlooking a breathtaking expanse of rolling hills and snow-capped peaks, is the house. It's a modern marvel of wood, stone, and glass, somehow managing to look both incredibly chic and perfectly integrated into the rugged landscape. Smoke curls lazily from a stone chimney, the landlord wasn't lying when he assured you that the house would already be heated before you arrived.

"Holy shit," Yujin whispers, grabbing your arm, her eyes wide. "It's… wow."

You share a triumphant grin. "Welcome home for the week."

The final approach feels almost ceremonial, crunching through the pristine snow towards the heavy wooden front door. You fumble slightly with the key code—cold fingers—and then the door swings inward, revealing the sanctuary within. The difference is immediate and staggering. Warm air, thick with the scent of cedarwood and a crackling fire, washes over you, melting the chill from your bones. The interior is stunning: plush, deep-toned sofas are arranged around a massive stone fireplace where logs are already blazing merrily. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate one wall, showcasing the incredible mountain view like a living artwork. Polished wooden floors are softened by thick, inviting rugs. It’s the epitome of cozy luxury, a perfect cocoon against the stark beauty outside. You drop your bags by the door with simultaneous sighs of relief.

Yujin lets out a low whistle, spinning slowly in place, taking it all in. "Okay, you officially win all the points," she declares, already shrugging off her heavy jacket. "This is beyond anything I imagined." She doesn't even pause to properly explore. Her eyes, scanning the space, seem to fix on an internal goal: maximum comfort, immediately. "Right," she announces, kicking off her hiking boots without bothering to undo the laces properly. "Operation Melt starts now." She disappears through a doorway you assume leads to the bedroom wing, shedding layers as she goes; hat tossed onto a chair, gloves stuffed into pockets.

You start unlacing your own boots, chuckling softly. Her single-minded focus on relaxation is adorable. You hear drawers opening and closing in the other room, then silence for a minute. When she reappears, you honestly have to stop yourself from staring. Gone are the bulky, practical travel layers. She’s changed into a pair of soft, charcoal-grey leggings that cling lovingly to every curve of her lower body—the swell of her hips, the undeniable thickness of her thighs, the perfect roundness of her ass. Up top, she’s wearing a simple, slightly cropped, cream-colored fluffy sweater that leaves a tantalizing strip of smooth skin visible at her waist when she stretches.

Her hair is pulled back loosely, stray strands framing her face, her skin glowing from the hike and the warmth of the house. She looks soft, touchable, and incredibly sexy in a way that stage outfits or carefully curated airport fashion never quite capture. It’s the casual, effortless confidence, the way the soft fabric hugs her figure, showcasing the solid, athletic build beneath; those strong thighs honed by years of dancing, the curve of her calves, the gentle slope of her stomach.

Fuck, you think, she really does have a 'thick and juicy' body, as the internet often thirsted over, and seeing it displayed so casually, so comfortably, right here in your shared private space, hits differently. It makes something low and primal stir inside you, a possessive urge mixing with pure adoration. She looks utterly relaxed, utterly herself, and it’s ridiculously hot.

She pads barefoot across the wooden floor towards the massive sofa, throwing herself onto it with a contented sigh that echoes in the high-ceilinged room. She curls up against the plush cushions, tucking her feet beneath her, already looking half-asleep but utterly blissful. "Okay," she murmurs, eyes fluttering closed for a second. "I could get used to this." You stand there for a moment, just watching her, the discarded hiking gear at your feet, the fire crackling merrily, the stunning view outside the window, and the sight of her, finally here, finally relaxed, looking so damn edible in her comfy clothes.

You don't move for a long moment, just drinking in the sight of her curled up on that ridiculously plush sofa, bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace. That sliver of pale skin exposed by the cropped fluffy sweater at her waist seems to pulse with warmth in the firelight, an invitation your body understands even if your brain is still catching up to the reality of finally being here. Two months. Two fucking months of cold screens and yearning touches that never landed.

The sight of her, so real, so soft, so utterly desirable in her deliberate comfort, short-circuits something in your chest. That simmering desire, kept on a low boil for weeks by distance and shitty Wi-Fi connections, suddenly cranks to high, threatening to boil over.

Unpacking? Later.

Relaxation? This feels like a much more urgent, much more necessary form of melting right now.

You move before you consciously decide to, crossing the space between you, your own discarded jacket and boots forgotten near the door. You approach the sofa, your shadow falling over her. Yujin's eyes flutter open, a lazy, contented smile gracing her lips. "Hey," she murmurs. "Comfy?" Her smile falters slightly, replaced by a flicker of understanding, then a dawning heat that mirrors your own. Her breath catches almost imperceptibly. She knows this look. She hasn't seen it directed at her, in person, for far too long. You don't say anything, just kneel on the thick rug beside the sofa, bringing yourself level with her. You reach out, your fingers tracing the exposed line of skin at her waist. She shivers, a full-body tremor this time, and her eyes darken, pupils blown wide.

"Yeah?" she whispers, the single word thick with implication, a question and permission all at once.

Your hand slides under the fluffy fabric of her sweater, fingers splaying across the surprising warmth of her stomach. Her skin is so soft, yielding. You lean in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that’s miles away from the desperate reunion clashes at her apartment door last night. This is slow, deliberate, a claiming. You taste the lingering sweetness of whatever snack she was eating, mixed with her own unique flavor, a taste you’ve craved like a lifeline. Her lips part instantly, inviting you deeper, her tongue meeting yours with an eagerness that betrays her own carefully banked fire. Her hand comes up, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, erasing the last few inches between you.

The kiss deepens, grows hungrier. The slow burn explodes into a wildfire. Two months of frustration, of longing, of picturing this exact moment, fuels the escalating intensity. Your hands are everywhere, rediscovering her shape, her feel. One hand slides up her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through the thin material of whatever bra she has on under the sweater, eliciting a soft gasp against your mouth. Your other hand isn't idle; it slides down from her waist, over the curve of her hip encased in the soft grey leggings. You squeeze, feeling the solid, powerful muscle beneath the yielding flesh. God, her thighs. You’ve fantasized about being wrapped around them again, feeling their strength. She moans into the kiss, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through your connection, arching her back slightly, pressing her hips forward into your touch almost instinctively.

She breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to breathe, her chest rising and falling rapidly, cheeks flushed. "Fuck," she pants, her eyes glazed with need. "Okay. Operation Melt just got… upgraded." You grin, leaning down to press kisses along her jawline, down her neck, finding that sensitive spot just below her ear that always makes her squirm. She shudders, tilting her head to give you better access, her fingers tightening in your hair. "Been waiting," you murmur against her skin, "to make you melt." Your hand slides further down her thigh, fingers tracing the seam of the leggings, heading towards the juncture of her legs. She shifts on the sofa, unconsciously spreading her knees slightly, a silent invitation. The fluffy sweater suddenly feels like too much of a barrier. You pull back slightly, your eyes locking with hers.

"Too many clothes," you state. She nods mutely, already reaching for the hem of her sweater.

Helping her pull the soft garment over her head feels like unwrapping the most precious gift. Underneath, she’s wearing a simple, dark sports bra that pushes her breasts together slightly, framing their soft swell. Her skin gleams in the firelight, smooth and inviting. You don't hesitate, leaning down to capture the peak of one breast through the fabric, sucking firmly. Yujin cries out, her back arching off the sofa cushions, hands flying to grip your shoulders. "Oh, fuck… yes," she gasps, hips tilting up again. You lave attention to both sides, switching back and forth, using teeth and tongue, feeling her nipples bead into tight points against the damp fabric. Her breath comes in short, sharp pants, her fingers digging into your muscles.

While your mouth is busy, your hands work on the leggings, hooking your thumbs into the waistband. She lifts her hips obligingly, helping you peel the tight fabric down over the generous curve of her ass, down her thick, strong thighs, past her knees, until they're bunched around her ankles. She kicks them off impatiently. Now she's wearing only the sports bra and a pair of simple, dark cotton panties. The sight is devastatingly intimate, devastatingly hot. Her thighs are bare now, powerful and pale in the flickering light, slightly parted. You move your attention lower, pressing kisses to the strip of skin above her waistband, then lower still, nosing at the fabric covering her mound. She groans, tangling her hands back in your hair, trying to guide you. "Please…" she whimpers

You oblige, replacing your mouth with your hand, pressing your palm flat against her mound through the cotton. She’s already damp, the fabric clinging slightly. She whimpers again, bucking her hips against your touch. You slide your fingers beneath the elastic band, finding her slick heat immediately. She gasps, her eyes rolling back slightly. Two months. You can feel the sheer amount of desperate need radiating from her. Your fingers explore, finding her clit, already swollen and sensitive. You circle it gently at first, then with increasing pressure, watching her face contort with pleasure.

"Oh god… don't stop," she pleads, her voice strained.

You add another finger, sliding inside her wet heat. She’s so tight, so welcoming, slick and ready for you. You pump your fingers in and out, slow and deep, while your thumb continues its relentless work on her clit. Her hips rise off the sofa to meet your rhythm, her moans becoming louder, less inhibited. The sound echoes slightly in the large, high-ceilinged room, mixing with the crackle of the fire. You move from the floor onto the sofa beside her, straddling her hips, needing to be closer, needing to feel all of her. You kiss her again, deeply, swallowing her moans, while your fingers continue their magic below. She claws at your back, leaving trails of heat through your shirt.

It's not enough. You need to be inside her. Now. You pull back from the kiss, fumbling with the button and zipper of your jeans, kicking them off hastily along with your boxers, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Your cock springs free, hard and aching. Yujin's eyes lock onto it, a predatory gleam mixing with the raw need. She reaches out, her hand closing around your length, her touch both hesitant and demanding after the long absence.

"Missed this," she whispers, stroking you slowly, deliberately. You groan, gritting your teeth.

"Fuck, Yujin…" You gently push her hand away. "My turn."

You reposition yourself between her legs. Her thighs fall open wider, granting you full access. She looks up at you, eyes dark pools of anticipation, biting her lower lip. You take the hem of her sports bra, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her breasts spill free, perky and pale, nipples still tight and dark from your earlier attention. You lean down, kissing the valley between them, then take one nipple into your mouth again, sucking hard as you position the head of your cock at her entrance. She cries out, her body tensing, hands gripping your biceps. Her slickness coats you, hot and welcoming. With a low groan, driven by sixty-three days of pent-up frustration, you push forward, sinking into her heat.

Her gasp is sharp, her eyes squeezing shut as you fill her completely. Fuck, she feels incredible. Tight, wet, impossibly hot. It’s like coming home after the longest, hardest journey. You stay still for a moment, buried deep inside her, letting both of you adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being joined again. Her inner muscles clench around you involuntarily, drawing a pained groan from your own throat.

You rest your forehead against hers, both of you breathing heavily. "Okay?" you whisper. She nods, eyes fluttering open, glazed but focused on you. "More than okay," she breathes. "Don't you dare stop now." That’s all the encouragement you need. You begin to move, pulling back slowly, almost completely, before thrusting back in deep. Yujin throws her head back against the cushions, a long, keening moan escaping her lips. You establish a rhythm, slow and deep at first, savoring the friction, the feeling of her tight pussy gripping you with every inward stroke.

Her hands slide down your back, fingers digging into the muscles of your ass, urging you deeper, faster. You oblige, picking up the pace, your thrusts becoming harder, more frantic. The sofa bounces slightly beneath you, the only sounds the crackling fire, your ragged breaths, her increasingly desperate moans, and the wet slap of your bodies colliding. Firelight flickers across her sweat-slicked skin, highlighting the flush spreading across her chest, the cords standing out in her neck as she arches into each thrust. Her legs come up, wrapping around your waist, locking her ankles behind your back, pulling you impossibly deeper. The angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside her that makes her cry out your name.

"Fuck, right there… yes…" she gasps, her nails scoring lines on your back, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave marks, claiming you. You lower yourself, bracing your hands on the sofa cushions on either side of her head, driving into her relentlessly. You watch her face, her expression a mixture of intense pleasure and building pressure. Her eyes are squeezed shut again, her lower lip caught between her teeth. You lean down, kissing her fiercely, swallowing her breathless cries.

The intensity builds, coiling tight in your belly, mirroring the tension you see in her straining body. Her hips buck beneath you, meeting your thrusts with equal force, chasing her release. You feel her inner muscles starting to clench rhythmically around your cock, fluttering desperately. "Fuck," Yujin gasps, her eyes snapping open to lock with yours, pupils blown wide, swirling with raw lust. "God, I am so fucking horny for you right now, I can barely breathe. It’s insane."

You smirk, leaning down to capture her mouth in a brutal, tongue-tangling kiss, one hand sliding down to grip her ass cheek, kneading the firm flesh. "Tell me about it," you bite out against her lips when you finally pull back for air. "Feeling you this tight, this wet around my cock… knowing I'm the only one who gets you like this… driving me fucking crazy, baby." You emphasize the point with a particularly deep, grinding thrust that makes her cry out, nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to sting this time. "Yes! Oh god, yes! Just like that!" she pants, bucking her hips frantically against you. "Fuck, I love your cock. I missed it so much. Just having you inside me… it feels… perfect. Don't stop, please don't ever stop."

Her admission, the sheer worship in her tone as she talks about your cock, sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your groin. You pick up the pace, pounding into her relentlessly, your rhythm savage, pushing her further and further towards the edge. Her moans become higher pitched, more desperate, her body starting to tremble with oncoming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… oh god… I'm getting so close," she whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut again, face contorted in a mask of excruciating pleasure. "So close… please…!" You feel the tension coiling in your own body, your balls tightening, the inevitable climax building like a pressure cooker. "Me too, baby," you groan, your own voice strained now, pushing faster, harder. "Fuck, I'm right there with you…" Yujin's eyes fly open again, fucking onto yours with fierce intensity, a desperate plea shining within their depths. "Then cum with me!" she begs, her voice cracking with urgency. "Please, please cum inside me! Now! Fill me up! I need it! I need your cum inside me so bad!" Her hips buck harder, grinding against you in a frenzy.

Fuck. Hearing her beg like that, so needy, so utterly consumed by lust, demanding your seed deep inside her… it obliterates any remaining shred of control you might have had. You love this side of her, the hidden 'slutty' Yujin that only you get to see, the one who sheds all pretense and just needs to be filled, used, claimed. "Yeah, baby?" you manage, leaning down close to her ear. "You want me to fill that tight little pussy up? Want my hot cum flooding your womb?"

You give another vicious thrust, feeling her inner walls clench hard around you. She nods frantically, tears of sheer pleasure and desperation starting to leak from the corners of her eyes.

"Yes! Please! Begging you! Fill me up! Cum in me now!"

That's it. Her desperate, slutty plea shatters your control completely. "FUCK YES!" you roar, abandoning all finesse, slamming into her with everything you have, a final series of deep, punishing thrusts aimed at driving yourself as deep as physically possible. "I'm cumming babe, I'm cumming on your cock!" Her answering scream is pure ecstasy as her orgasm rips through her, her body convulsing violently around your straining cock, milking you with impossible strength.

That final, desperate clenching triggers your own release. With a guttural shout that echoes hers, you explode, unloading torrents of thick, hot cum deep within her tight pussy. You keep thrusting hard as you come, pumping every last drop into her, feeling the incredibly intimate sensation of filling her completely, picturing your seed flooding her womb just like she begged for. It's a volcanic release, fueled by weeks of absence and the sheer intensity of her begging, far more powerful than usual.

As your orgasm finally subsides, leaving you utterly spent, you feel her own shudders gradually lessen, though she continues to clench around you sporadically. She just melts underneath you, boneless and whimpering softly, completely overwhelmed. You collapse onto her, burying your face back into her neck, trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding like a drum against hers. You know how much she loves this, how much she craves the feeling of being filled by you, and the thought that she went two whole months without it… no wonder you both just about broke the fucking sofa.

You stay like that for a long time, glued together, skin sticky with sweat, limbs tangled, the only sounds the crackling fire and your slowly normalizing breaths. You can feel the warmth of your cum seeping out of her slightly, pooling between her legs and onto the expensive upholstery beneath her ass. Neither of you cares. The intimacy of the moment, the sheer relief and satisfaction, is profound. Her arms are wrapped loosely around your back, her cheek resting against your chest, her breathing soft against your skin. Eventually, she stirs, lifting her head slightly, her eyes soft, languid, utterly content. She presses a soft kiss to your collarbone. "Okay," she whispers, voice still rough with spent passion. "That was… worth the wait."

She shifts slightly, and you feel a little more of your cum trickle down her thigh. She glances down, then back up at you, a mischievous glint entering her eyes. "Speaking of waiting… that hot spring is still out there. Probably nice and warm by now…" She arches an eyebrow suggestively. "Seems like a good excuse to get cleaned up… maybe?" You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her 'excuses' are rarely subtle. "Yeah? Think maybe we need to wash all this… evidence… off?" You gesture vaguely at the sticky mess on her, you, and the sofa. She grins. "Exactly. Wouldn't want to stain the furniture on day one."

Getting untangled and upright takes effort, muscles pleasantly sore, bodies feeling heavy and satisfied. You're both naked now, clothes discarded in haste much earlier. You grab a couple of the ridiculously fluffy towels the house provided, tossing one to her. Standing there, naked in the warm glow of the fire, you take a moment to just appreciate her body—the flush still high on her cheeks and chest, the slight sheen of sweat, the curve of her hips and those incredible thighs, slightly marked by your grip. She catches you looking and smiles, a soft, knowing smile. "Like what you see?" she teases, stretching languidly, making her breasts jiggle slightly. "Always," you reply honestly, your voice still a bit thick. You lead the way to the back door, opening it to a blast of cold night air.

The contrast is sharp after the cozy warmth inside. Steam rises invitingly from the stone-lined hot spring built into a wooden deck area just outside, partially sheltered by the overhang of the roof but open to the starry sky above. The surrounding snow glows faintly blue in the moonlight. "Last one in is…" Yujin starts, but doesn't finish, instead making a quick dash across the freezing deck boards with a little shriek and sliding into the steaming water with an audible sigh of pure bliss. "Oh my god, that's amazing," she calls out, sinking down until the water reaches her chin, her eyes closed in pleasure. She opens them again, looking at you expectantly. "Come on!"

You hesitate at the edge, the cold biting at your bare skin. "In a sec," you call back. "Figured Operation Melt might require refueling soon. Gonna grab some snacks first." Yujin pouts dramatically for a second, then her expression softens. "Okay, fine," she concedes. "I am starving, actually. You're the best." You flash her a grin and duck back inside, heading for the well-stocked kitchen.

You quickly assemble a platter—some cheese, crackers, fruit, some chocolate you found in the welcome basket, plus a couple of bottles of cold water. Balancing the tray, you head back out. The cold air feels even colder now after the brief respite inside. Yujin is leaning back against the edge of the spring, watching the steam curl into the night sky, looking completely serene. You carefully set the snack tray down on the edge of the deck within easy reach before finally stepping down the submerged stone steps into the hot spring yourself. The heat is instantaneous, intense, enveloping you like a comforting blanket, chasing away the chill in seconds. You let out a sigh of relief, sinking into the water opposite her.

She watches you enter, her eyes soft and filled with an undeniable warmth that has nothing to do with the water temperature. There's gratitude there, affection, and a deep, simmering satisfaction. "Seriously," she says, the words soft and sincere, paddling a little closer to you through the steam. "Thank you. For… all of this." She gestures vaguely, encompassing the house, the trip, maybe even the mind-blowing sex you just had. "You're just… amazing. Spoiling me like this after I was gone so long." She reaches out, trailing her fingers lightly across your chest under the water. "I really need to figure out a really good way to reward you properly this week, make it up to you…" Her eyes hold yours, full of promise, the steam swirling around you both like a curtain, creating your own private world under the vast, cold night sky.

—

You wake up slowly on the second day, cocooned in an almost obscene amount of warmth and softness. Sunlight streams through a gap in the heavy curtains, painting a bright stripe across the ridiculously comfortable king-size bed. Yujin is still fast asleep, curled against your side, one arm thrown possessively over your chest, her face relaxed and peaceful in a way you haven't seen since before the tour madness began. Her dark hair is fanned out across the crisp white pillowcase, strands clinging slightly to her cheek. You watch the slow, even rise and fall of her breathing, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over you.

This.

This is what you both needed.

Just quiet, uninterrupted closeness. You resist the urge to wake her, instead just lying there, soaking in the silence, the luxury, and the simple fact that she's here.

Eventually, her eyelids flutter. She murmurs something incoherent, nuzzling closer into your warmth like a contented cat before her eyes finally drift open. They focus on you, still hazy with sleep, and a slow, soft smile spreads across her face. "Morning," she whispers.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you reply, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She hums contentedly, stretching languidly under the duvet, her bare leg brushing against yours. The casual intimacy sends a familiar jolt through you, but it’s softer this morning, less frantic need, more simmering appreciation.

Getting out of bed happens eventually, reluctantly. You pad into the sleek, modern bathroom together, brushing your teeth side-by-side, sharing sleepy smiles in the mirror. Yujin pulls on one of your oversized band t-shirts that you packed, the hem falling to her mid-thighs, and pairs it with some ridiculously tiny, lacy black sleep shorts that barely peek out from underneath. It's an ensemble that's simultaneously adorable, comfortable, and mind-bendingly sexy. She knows it, too. As she heads out to the kitchen ahead of you, presumably in search of caffeine, she pauses in the doorway, turns back, and gives her hips a slow, deliberate sway, her ass looking incredible beneath the soft cotton of your shirt. She catches your eye in the mirror, winks, and then disappears around the corner, leaving you momentarily stunned and already half-hard before you've even had coffee.

She’s going to make this week exquisitely torturous, isn’t she?

You follow her out, finding her already navigating the high-end coffee machine like a pro. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the spacious open-plan living area. The fire from last night has died down to embers, but the underfloor heating keeps the whole place incredibly toasty. You pour yourselves mugs of steaming coffee, adding a splash of milk, and wander over to the massive windows. The view is even more spectacular in the daylight: crisp white snow blanketing everything, distant peaks sharp against a brilliant blue sky, sunlight glinting off the icy surfaces. You stand there for a while, sipping your coffee, shoulder-to-shoulder, just taking it all in. "It's unreal," Yujin murmurs, leaning her head against your shoulder. "Feels like we're in a snow globe."

Breakfast is a joint effort in the state-of-the-art kitchen. You find pancake mix in the well-stocked pantry, while Yujin tackles frying bacon and scrambling eggs, humming happily off-key. Working together feels easy, natural, falling back into a comfortable rhythm despite the months apart. There’s playful nudging, stealing bites of bacon straight from the pan (earning you a light smack with a spatula from Yujin), and lots of laughter. You eat sitting at the solid wood dining table, sunlight streaming in, talking about everything, trying to make up for lost time. She tells you more anecdotes from the tour, the funny mishaps, the exhaustion, but it’s lighter now, told with the relief of someone who’s reached the finish line and can finally breathe. You devour the delicious food—fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, perfectly scrambled eggs—feeling utterly content.

After cleaning up together (a surprisingly domestic and pleasant task in this setting), the clear skies and stunning scenery outside beckon. "Walk?" you suggest. Yujin nods eagerly. "Definitely. Need to explore our kingdom." You bundle up again, the ritual of layering thermals and jackets feeling familiar now. You grab your phone, intending to capture the beauty of the place, and maybe its most beautiful inhabitant. The air outside is bitingly cold but incredibly fresh, scrubbing your lungs clean. You follow a different path this time, one that leads away from the house and deeper into the surrounding pine forest. The snow crunches loudly under your boots, the only sound besides your own breathing and the occasional gust of wind sighing through the branches overhead. Sunlight filters through the trees, making the snow sparkle like scattered diamonds.

Yujin is captivated, constantly pointing out animal tracks in the snow, or the intricate patterns of frost on fallen leaves. You hang back slightly, watching her, and start taking pictures. You capture her profile as she gazes up at a particularly tall, snow-laden tree, her breath misting in the air. You snap a shot of her laughing as she nearly slips on a patch of ice, catching herself at the last second. You get one of her turning back towards you, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, eyes sparkling with life and happiness, a genuine, unguarded smile gracing her lips. "Hey," she calls, noticing you aiming your phone. "Paparazzi even out here?" She strikes a deliberately goofy pose, hand on hip, lips pursed. You laugh, snapping that one too. "Can't help it," you call back, lowering the phone and walking towards her. "You look incredible."

You show her the pictures, scrolling through them. Especially the candid one, the laughing one. "See? Told you." You zoom in slightly on her smiling face against the snowy backdrop. "Absolutely beautiful." She ducks her head, a genuine blush rising on her cheeks this time, distinct from the cold-induced pinkness. "Stop," she mumbles, but she leans against you, looking at the photos on your screen, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Okay, maybe that one's kinda cute," she admits, pointing to the laughing shot.

You spend another hour exploring, venturing further until you reach a ridge with an even more expansive view of the valley below. You take more photos, some posed, some candid, each one capturing a piece of her relaxed joy, her stunning beauty amplified by the raw, majestic nature surrounding you. Every time you tell her how good she looks, she either preens playfully or swats your arm, but you see the pleasure it brings her in her eyes.

Returning to the house feels like stepping back into a warm embrace. You shed your cold-weather gear by the door, toes and fingers tingling as they warm up. Hot chocolate feels mandatory. You whip some up using the fancy milk frother and some high-quality chocolate flakes you found, topping them with whipped cream. You curl up on opposite ends of the massive sofa, feet tucked underneath you, mugs warming your hands, the silence comfortable again. Yujin sighs contentedly after a long sip. "This is literally heaven," she murmurs, eyes closed. The afternoon drifts by in a haze of blissful relaxation.

You put on some mellow music. Yujin finds a stack of glossy art books on a shelf and gets absorbed in one, while you try to read but find your eyes constantly drifting towards her. She's kicked off her socks now, feet bare. Your t-shirt has ridden up slightly as she shifted, revealing more of those ridiculously enticing lace shorts and the smooth curve of her hip. She seems completely oblivious, lost in her book, occasionally pushing her hair back from her face or biting her lip in concentration. Every small movement she makes sends a jolt of awareness through you.

The memory of how she felt beneath you last night, how she begged for you, is a constant, simmering undercurrent beneath the placid surface of the afternoon. Later, she gets up to refill her water bottle, pausing on her way back from the kitchen. She stretches languidly, arms reaching high above her head, arching her back. The movement pulls your t-shirt taut across her breasts and lifts the hem significantly, giving you a deliberate, heart-stopping view of her ass in those tiny black shorts. She holds the stretch for just a moment too long, catches your eye, and gives you a slow, knowing smirk before dropping her arms and continuing back to the sofa as if nothing happened. Fucking tease.

As evening approaches, you decide on dinner. The fridge is stocked with ingredients for steak, asparagus, and potatoes. Cooking together again is just as fun as breakfast, maybe even more so now that you've opened a bottle of red wine. Yujin expertly sears the steaks while you handle the sides, moving around each other easily in the spacious kitchen. She's still in your t-shirt and the tiny shorts, seemingly uncaring that she's flashing generous amounts of thigh and occasionally the curve of her butt cheek as she bends or reaches. You're pretty sure she's doing it on purpose now, enjoying the effect she has on you.

You sneak up behind her while she's focused on basting the steaks, wrapping your arms around her waist, pulling her back against your chest. You nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent mixed with the delicious aroma of cooking food. "Smells amazing," you murmur. She leans back into you, tilting her head slightly. "The steak, or me?" she teases, turning her head just enough to press a quick, wine-flavored kiss to your lips before deftly flipping the steaks.

You eat dinner by candlelight, the food tasting incredible, the wine warming you further. Afterwards, instead of retreating back to the sofa, you brave the cold for a few minutes, stepping out onto the deck, wrapped in blankets this time, to look at the stars. The sky here, away from city lights, is unbelievable; a vast, dark canvas dusted with millions of brilliant stars. Yujin leans heavily against you, pointing out constellations she recognizes. The peacefulness is immense, broken only by your soft voices and the distant sigh of the wind.

Back inside, you rekindle the fire, the logs catching quickly, casting flickering shadows across the room. Yujin curls up beside you on the rug this time, leaning against your legs as you sit on the sofa, idly scrolling through the photos you took earlier. She looks up at you, her eyes soft in the firelight. "Today was perfect," she whispers. "Just… easy. And fun." She pauses, then a slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. "But you know," she adds as she reaches out, her hand landing purposefully high on your inner thigh, fingers starting a slow, tantalizing exploration beneath the fabric of your sweatpants. "All this relaxing… It's making me really needy. Maybe perfection needs a little… spicing up?" Her fingers tighten, finding the ridge of your hardening cock through the fabric, and her eyes hold yours, full of blatant, delicious promise.

—

You drift awake on the third morning feeling boneless and utterly drained in the best possible way. Last night… well, last night Yujin definitely collected on her promise to 'spice things up'. After her suggestive comment by the fire, things had escalated quickly, moving from teasing touches on the sofa to a full-blown, hours-long session in the massive bed that left you both sweat-soaked, marked, and completely spent. She’d ridden you like she was trying to break a world record, screaming your name, demanding you fuck her harder, deeper, finally begging, pleading for you to cum inside her again and again until neither of you could move.

Now, though? Now she sleeps beside you like a goddamn angel. Curled on her side, facing you, lips slightly parted, breathing softly, one hand tucked trustingly under her cheek. The picture of innocence. If you didn't have the faint soreness in your muscles and the lingering scent of sex clinging to the sheets (and probably both of you) as evidence, you might almost believe last night's debauchery was a particularly vivid dream. Seeing her like this, peaceful and cute after being such a demanding little demon just hours before, makes a fond, possessive warmth spread through your chest. You stay put for a while, just watching her sleep, letting the relaxed satisfaction wash over you.

The day unfolds with the same lazy rhythm as yesterday, but there's a subtle difference in Yujin's energy. While yesterday was about blissful relaxation and melting away stress, today she seems… effervescent. There's an extra bounce in her step as she pads around the house (today choosing a ridiculously soft-looking cashmere lounge set—pale blue joggers and a matching loose hoodie—that still manages to look incredibly sexy on her). She hums constantly, a cheerful, slightly tuneless sound. And she's definitely glued to her phone more than usual. You catch her sending off quick texts, a secretive little smile playing on her lips as she taps away, quickly pocketing the device whenever you glance over for too long.

You try asking casually who she's texting, but she just waves a hand dismissively, "Oh, just group chat stuff, checking in," before changing the subject with suspicious speed. It's weird, but you brush it off. Maybe she's just genuinely happy, fully recharged after a couple of days away and a night of intense sex. You spend the morning reading by the fire again, drinking coffee, occasionally getting lost in conversation, but her slightly distracted, anticipatory energy It's something you can't completely ignore.

Around midday, you both decide on lunch. Yujin takes the lead this time, announcing she wants to make a big batch of kimchi jjigae, claiming she's craving something spicy and hearty. You're happy to be her sous-chef, chopping vegetables while she handles the broth and meat. As she adds ingredients to the large pot, you notice she seems to be prepping way more than necessary for just two people. She adds nearly a whole block of tofu, a generous amount of pork belly, and practically the entire head of kimchi. "Hungry today, huh?" you comment lightly, eyeing the overflowing pot. She just grins, not looking up from stirring. "Starving! All that fresh mountain air… and, you know…" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, referencing last night. You laugh, shaking your head. Fair enough. The rich, spicy aroma starts filling the kitchen, making your own stomach rumble.

You're setting out bowls and spoons when it happens: the sudden, sharp, totally unexpected chime of a doorbell echoes through the house.

You freeze, spoon clattering onto the counter. What the actual fuck? A doorbell? Out here? You’re miles from anywhere, accessible only by a private track and a final hike. You weren’t expecting deliveries, and certainly not visitors. Your head whips around to look at Yujin, expecting to see similar confusion or alarm on her face. Instead, she’s completely unfazed. She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, a bright, almost smug smile spreading across her face. "Oh, good! Right on time," she says cheerfully, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Your confusion morphs into suspicion. "On time for what? Who is that?" you ask. Yujin just pats your arm reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it." She practically skips towards the front door, leaving you standing bewildered in the kitchen, the simmering jjigae momentarily forgotten. You follow her slowly, hesitantly, stopping in the main living area, peering towards the entranceway. Yujin swings the heavy wooden door open.

Standing on the threshold, looking impossibly small surrounded by the vast snowy landscape and bundled up in a thick, long padded coat, scarf wrapped high around her neck, and a woolly hat pulled low, is Naoi Rei.

Your brain takes a second to compute. Rei? Here? She has a large backpack slung over one shoulder and is juggling a couple of tote bags, her cheeks flushed bright pink from the biting cold. She looks exhausted and slightly grumpy. "Ugh, Yujin!" she complains immediately, voice muffled by the scarf. "It's freezing out here! And that hike was no joke. Are you trying to kill me?" Yujin just laughs, stepping aside to let her in. "You made it! I was starting to worry." She pulls Rei into a warm hug, then playfully pinches one of her rosy cheeks. "Aw, look at you, so cute when you're grumpy." Rei grumbles something unintelligible but allows herself to be pulled inside, stamping snow off her boots.

She starts unwrapping herself from her layers, revealing slightly tousled hair and wide, expressive eyes that finally land on you standing awkwardly a few feet away.

"Hey there," she says, smiling at you like she always does, but there’s a distinct curve to her lips this time, It's a smile that seems… knowing. Different. Like she expected you to be here, like she's in on some secret you're definitely not privy to.

"Rei, hi," you manage, trying to sound casual, friendly, plastering on a polite smile while your mind races. "Didn't expect visitors. Welcome." You gesture vaguely around the luxurious space. "Nice place, huh?"

Rei nods, her eyes scanning the room with appreciation before flicking back to you. "Yeah, it's beautiful. Yujin wasn't exaggerating…" she trails off, that knowing little smile playing on her lips again.

Yujin claps her hands together. "Rei, go warm up! Bathroom's down the hall if you need it. Lunch is almost ready." Rei nods gratefully, murmuring thanks, and disappears down the hallway with her bags, leaving you alone with Yujin in the suddenly charged silence.

You turn on her immediately, keeping your tone low but urgent. "Yujin. What. The. Hell?" You stab a finger towards the hallway where Rei vanished. "Why is Rei here? This was supposed to be our week. Just us. To reconnect. What is going on?" Yujin doesn't look guilty or apologetic. She looks amused, maybe even a little triumphant. She steps closer, reaching up to smooth the front of your shirt, her touch lingering.

"Baby," she says softly. "Don't you remember the first day? At the hot spring?"

You frown. "Yeah? You were talking about… rewarding me?"

"Exactly," she confirms, her smile widening. "I told you I needed to figure out a really good way to reward you. For waiting two months, for planning this amazing trip, for… well, for being you."

Your brain is still struggling to connect the dots. "Okay…? So you invited Rei for lunch?"

Yujin lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head like you’re being adorably dense. "No, silly." She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her gaze intense.

"Rei is the reward."

This sentence hits you like a physical blow, a jolt of memory so sharp it makes you dizzy. That night, months ago, before the tour. Both of you tipsy on wine after a date night, curled up on her sofa back in Seoul. The conversation had gotten silly, then bold. Yujin, flushed and giggling, had pinned you with a surprisingly serious look. "Hypothetically," she'd slurred slightly, "if you had to… you know… with me and one of the other girls… who would it be?" You'd tried to deflect, laughing it off, but she'd persisted, poking your chest, teasing you, her eyes full of drunken curiosity and maybe something else, something testing. "Come on! Just hypothetically! Who do you think is hot?"

Cornered, flustered, and definitely influenced by the alcohol and her relentless, playful interrogation, you finally mumbled something about how, hypothetically, you thought Rei had this unique mix… she was adorably cute, almost a doll with her cheeks and mannerisms, but there was also something undeniably sexy about her, a hidden heat beneath the surface.

"Rei?" Yujin had repeated, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise, before a slow, considering smile spread across her face. "Interesting…" The conversation had moved on quickly after that, dissolving into more drunken kisses, and you'd completely forgotten about it. Until now. Holy shit. Yujin remembered. She actually fucking remembered that drunken, hypothetical confession and somehow, somehow, she'd made it real. Standing here, in this secluded mountain paradise, she'd arranged for Naoi Rei—cute, adorably hot Rei—to show up as your 'reward'. The sheer audacity, the implications… your mind reels, struggling to process it.

And then, overriding the shock, comes a powerful, undeniable physical reaction. Heat floods your groin, your dick instantly surging against the inside of your jeans, growing thick and hard at the mind-blowing possibility Yujin just dropped into your lap. Rei. Yujin. Together. Your reward. Holy fuck.

You stare at Yujin, the kimchi jjigae bubbling forgotten on the stove behind her, the rich scent suddenly secondary to the absolute bombshell she just dropped. Your dick is throbbing insistently against your zipper, a physical testament to how quickly your body accepted this insane premise, even while your brain struggles to catch up. "Are you fucking serious right now, Yujin?" you finally manage. She doesn't flinch. Her smile remains firmly in place, smug and utterly confident. "Completely serious, baby," she confirms, reaching out to trail a finger down your chest, her touch electric. "Think of it as… a very special welcome home present. For both of us." You shake your head, trying to clear it. "But… Rei? Does she know? I mean, what did you tell her? Did she just… agree to show up here and be my 'reward'?"

The idea sounds ludicrous even as you say it. Yujin lets out a low chuckle, a throaty sound that sends another jolt straight south. "Let's just say Rei is… adventurous. And maybe a little curious about certain things." She leans closer again, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. "And maybe she trusts me. Give her a couple of glasses of wine with lunch," she murmurs conspiratorially, tapping your chest lightly. "You might be surprised what our little Rei agrees to." Your mind races. Open-minded? Curious? This is Naoi Rei, the group's seemingly sweet, slightly shy Japanese member. The image clashes wildly with what Yujin is implying.

"And you think…" you swallow, still grappling with the reality of it, "...you think I'll like this?" Yujin raises an eyebrow, her expression playful but challenging.

"Do you?" she counters, turning the question back on you, her gaze flicking down pointedly towards the noticeable bulge in your jeans before meeting your eyes again. Fuck. She knows she has you. The shock is fading, replaced by raw, undeniable arousal. The memory of that drunken confession, the image of Rei—cute face, unexpectedly hot body— joining you and Yujin… it’s becoming terrifyingly appealing. "...I guess we'll find out, won't we?" you finally concede.

Yujin's triumphant smile tells you that was the answer she wanted.

Right on cue, Rei reappears, padding softly back into the living area. She’s ditched the heavy coat and layers, now wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and a slightly oversized, fluffy pink hoodie that makes her look incredibly soft and approachable, almost negating the knowing glint you keep seeing in her eyes. "Wow, smells amazing, Unnie!" she exclaims, sniffing the air dramatically as she approaches the kitchen. Yujin immediately switches back into hostess mode. "Right? Come on, it's ready. Let's eat before it gets cold." The three of you gather around the dining table, ladling generous portions of the steaming, vibrant red stew into bowls.

Lunch is… surreal.

On the surface, it's perfectly normal. Polite conversation flows easily. Rei talks more about her journey—a series of train rides and then a slightly confusing taxi drop-off where Yujin's detailed instructions for the final hike were apparently crucial. Yujin fills her in on your first couple of days, describing the house and the surroundings with enthusiasm. They chat about mutual friends, upcoming schedules (vaguely, avoiding specifics), and the food.

But underneath the mundane chatter, there’s a shared awareness; at least between you and Yujin, and you strongly suspect Rei too—of the real reason she's here. You catch Yujin sending subtle glances towards Rei, then flicking her eyes towards you with a tiny smirk. Rei, while mostly interacting with Yujin, occasionally directs comments or questions at you, her smile friendly but still holding that hint of something… more. Shy curiosity? Playful anticipation? You can’t quite read it, and the ambiguity is driving you crazy. You focus on eating the delicious jjigae, the spiciness a welcome distraction, though you make sure to pour Rei a generous glass of the red wine left over from last night, remembering Yujin's suggestion. Rei accepts it with a grateful smile, taking a healthy sip.

"Seriously, Yujin-unnie," Rei says between mouthfuls, looking around the luxurious space again, "this place is incredible. Getting here was hell, honestly, that taxi driver looked so lost, and the hike! But wow." She shakes her head in amazement. "I can only say that I am happy to have been invited."

Yujin beams. "Told you it was worth it! And we haven't even shown you the best parts yet. Wait till you see the hot spring."

Rei's eyes light up instantly, just like Yujin predicted. "Yes! You kept talking about it on the phone! Is it really that amazing?" Yujin leans forward slightly, her tone dropping conspiratorially, though she directs the comment mostly towards Rei, she makes sure to catch your eye too. "Oh, it's the best part. Especially… after dark." Rei giggles, taking another sip of her wine, her cheeks slightly flushed now—maybe from the spice, maybe the alcohol, maybe something else entirely.

After lunch, with the dishes cleared away (Yujin insisting you all leave them for later), Yujin suggests showing Rei the stunning view you discovered yesterday. You all bundle up again and head outside. Rei is instantly enchanted by the vast, snowy landscape, gasping at the panoramic view from the ridge. She pulls out her phone, snapping dozens of pictures, posing playfully for Yujin, and even asking you, with a slightly shy smile, if you could take a few of her with the mountains in the background. You oblige, trying to act normal as you direct her slightly, acutely aware of Yujin watching you both with keen interest. Rei loves the quiet, the crisp air, the sheer beauty of it all, her earlier grumpiness completely vanished, replaced by wide-eyed wonder.

Back inside, shedding the cold gear feels even better this time. The warmth of the house, the lingering smell of kimchi and woodsmoke, feels incredibly welcoming. "Coffee?" Yujin suggests. "Or more hot chocolate? Need to warm up properly." You opt for coffee, while Rei eagerly accepts another hot chocolate. You settle back into the living area, the energy shifting slightly now. The exploration is done, lunch is finished. The unspoken 'agenda' for the afternoon seems to loom closer. Yujin strategically steers the conversation towards more personal topics, asking Rei about her family, reminiscing about funny trainee stories, creating a relaxed, intimate atmosphere. Rei seems to visibly unwind, laughing easily, her initial shyness fading further, helped along perhaps by another small glass of wine Yujin casually tops up for her.

Eventually, Yujin stretches languidly on the sofa, catching your eye. "Well," she announces. "I think it's officially hot spring time. Before the sun goes down completely." Rei perks up immediately. "Yes! Finally!"

Yujin grins and pushes herself off the sofa. "Okay, you two wait here. I'll grab the towels. Need to change into something more appropriate first." She winks at you before disappearing towards the bedroom wing. Rei shifts slightly on her seat, suddenly looking a little nervous again now that the moment is here. She avoids your gaze for a second, taking a sudden interest in the pattern on her empty hot chocolate mug. Before the silence can become awkward, Yujin returns, carrying a stack of fluffy white towels.

And she's changed. Gone is the cozy cashmere set. Instead, she’s wearing a sleek, black one-piece swimsuit. It’s one you absolutely love—high-cut on the legs, showing off the curve of her hips and length of her thighs, with a plunging neckline held together by daring crisscross straps that frame her cleavage perfectly. It emphasizes her lean strength, her dancer’s body, radiating confidence and pure sex appeal. She looks incredible, and she knows it. "Your turn, Rei," Yujin prompts gently, tossing her a towel. Rei takes a deep breath, nods quickly, and scurries off towards the guest room Yujin must have prepared for her.

You wait, heart pounding a little faster now.

This is it.

The 'reward' is about to be fully revealed.

Yujin comes over to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, her breath warm against your skin. "Excited?" You just nod, unable to form words. A moment later, Rei reappears in the doorway, looking hesitant but resolute. And holy shit. She’s wearing a simple, triangle-string bikini, a soft lilac color that contrasts beautifully with her skin tone. And Yujin wasn't kidding about her being 'open-minded' or maybe just incredibly trusting. Because the bikini reveals everything. Just like Yujin, Rei possesses that surprising idol duality: the cute, almost cherubic face paired with a body that is unexpectedly, devastatingly curvy and womanly. She is as thick as Yujin, maybe even slightly more so in certain places. Her hips flare generously from a trim waist, her thighs are full and strong, touching voluptuously at the top. Her stomach is soft but toned. And her breasts, fuller than Yujin’s, spill enticingly from the small lilac triangles, looking incredibly soft and heavy.

It's a stunning contrast—the sweet, almost shy face atop a figure that screams pure, unadulterated sex. She nervously adjusts the string at her hip, refusing to meet your eyes directly, a becoming blush staining her cheeks and spreading down her neck towards those impressive breasts. Yujin beams at her encouragingly. "See? You look amazing, Rei!" Rei mumbles a thank you, still looking anywhere but at you. But you see it all.

The whole reward, unwrapped and standing nervously before you. Yujin is practically vibrating with a smug 'I told you so' energy beside her in that killer black one-piece.

Right, if they're dressed for the water, lingering in sweatpants feels wrong. "Okay, okay, give me two seconds," you say, holding up a hand. "Need to change into something more appropriate myself." You jog back towards the bedroom, quickly shuck off your sweatpants, pulling on a pair of comfortable swim shorts instead. You glance in the mirror—shirtless, shorts, feeling ready. You head back out, finding Yujin has efficiently detoured via the kitchen counter where the wine was chilling. She now has the opened bottle in one hand, three stemmed glasses held expertly by their bases in the other. She nods approvingly at your attire change. "Perfect timing. Let's go."

The three of you head out onto the deck together this time. Yujin leads the way carefully with her fragile cargo, you follow with the towels slung over your shoulder, and Rei walks beside you, hugging herself slightly against the sudden blast of cold air on her mostly bare skin. "Woah! Okay, definitely cold out here!" Rei exclaims, teeth chattering slightly. "Get in, get in!" Yujin urges, already heading for the steps.

You all descend into the steaming water, the intense heat a blissful shock after the cold. Rei lets out a long, audible sigh of pure pleasure as she sinks gratefully into the warmth, her eyes widening as she takes in the surroundings properly—the steam rising into the twilight sky, the snow-dusted landscape stretching out around you, the luxurious feel of the smooth stone beneath the water. "Okay, wow," she breathes, looking genuinely impressed. "This hot spring is… seriously incredible, Unnie." She seems to visibly relax almost instantly, the tension melting from her posture as the heat works its magic.

Yujin beams, clearly pleased. "Told you!" She wades over to a built-in underwater ledge, carefully setting down the glasses before pouring a generous amount of red wine into each. She deliberately settles onto the ledge right next to Rei, their bare shoulders almost touching, before handing her a glass and then passing one over to you. "To relaxing properly," Yujin declares, raising her glass. You and Rei echo the sentiment, clinking glasses gently. The wine tastes good, warming you from the inside as the water warms you from the outside. As you sip, you watch the dynamic between the two girls. Yujin seems completely at ease, leaning back, swirling her wine, while Rei, though clearly more relaxed now, still seems slightly hyper-aware, occasionally glancing nervously at Yujin, then at you. The wine definitely helps, though. After a few more sips, Rei's posture loosens further, a genuine smile playing on her lips as she watches the steam curl upwards.

"Seriously though," Rei says after a comfortable silence, looking between you and Yujin. "Thank you both. For… well, for inviting me. Or letting me crash, whichever." She takes another sip of wine. "This place is amazing. I think I really needed this too, after everything." Yujin reaches over, playfully bumping Rei's shoulder. "Hey, all the credit for this genius idea goes to this one," she says, nodding towards you with an appreciative smile. "He organized the whole amazing surprise trip for me." She turns her attention back to Rei, her expression softening. She starts gently playing with the ends of Rei's wet hair where it floats on the water's surface, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. "You just relax, princess," Yujin murmurs, the pet name slipping out naturally. "You deserve it just as much after that crazy tour." Rei ducks her head slightly at the pet name, a faint blush rising on her cheeks, but she smiles, clearly not minding the affectionate term or the casual touch.

Yujin continues to hypnotically twist a lock of Rei's dark hair around her finger, her gaze fixed on Rei before suddenly looking directly at you. "Isn't she lovely?" Yujin asks, her voice soft, almost dreamy, but the question is pointed, demanding your participation. "Just adorable, right?"

You meet Yujin's gaze, then let your eyes drift over Rei; the cute face, flushed slightly now from the heat and wine, the surprisingly voluptuous body half-submerged in the steaming water, the wet hair clinging to her neck. Yujin isn't wrong. "Yeah," you agree, your voice coming out slightly rougher than intended. "She is. Very pretty." Rei's blush deepens instantly at your direct compliment. She looks down into her wine glass, then glances up at you quickly through her lashes. "Thank you..." she murmurs shyly, "...really."

Before Rei can look away completely, Yujin leans in suddenly, tilting her head. "So cute I could just eat you up!" she exclaims, and gives Rei's cheek a quick, playful nip with her teeth. It’s not hard, more of an affectionate nibble, but it’s startlingly intimate, fueled perhaps by the wine and the charged atmosphere.

Rei lets out a surprised little yelp, her eyes flying wide as she instinctively touches her cheek, looking at Yujin with a mixture of shock and amusement. Yujin just throws her head back and laughs, clearly enjoying Rei's flustered reaction. Rei swats playfully at Yujin's arm, giggling despite herself.

Yeah, the wine is definitely working its magic, alongside the simmering heat that has little to do with the water temperature. Yujin, sensing the shift, leans back against the stone ledge, swirling the wine in her glass, her eyes alight with mischief. She tops up Rei's glass, then yours, her movements fluid and deliberate. "We need to rearrange," Yujin announces suddenly, her gaze sweeping over the current seating arrangement. "Why are we sitting all spread out? This is supposed to be cozy." She looks pointedly at Rei. "Come on, princess, let's go flank our generous host. Make him feel appreciated." Rei hesitates for only a second before nodding, a tipsy giggle escaping her lips. "Okay, Unnie."

They both carefully maneuver through the water, splashing slightly, until they're positioned much closer to you. Yujin settles on one side, hip bumping yours companionably under the water, while Rei takes the spot directly opposite, close enough now that her knees occasionally brush yours. The proximity immediately cranks up the intensity, the steam trapping the scent of wine, chlorine, and their warm skin.

"You know," Yujin begins conversationally, though her tone is laced with intent, reaching out to gently stroke Rei’s wet shoulder, letting her fingers linger. "When I first texted you, Rei... floated the crazy idea of you maybe, possibly, joining us up here..." She pauses for dramatic effect, glancing at you. "This little one," she gestures towards Rei with her glass, "didn't even ask questions. No hesitation. Just texted back 'YES!' in all caps immediately." Yujin chuckles, shaking her head. "Seems someone was very eager for a little mountain getaway."

Rei splutters, splashing Yujin playfully. "Unnie! It wasn't exactly like that! You made it sound really nice..." Yujin just raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Mmmhmm. And," she continues, leaning closer to Rei, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for you to easily hear, "you should have seen her face later, when I called her. When I finally told her the little detail about how our host here," she nods towards you, "specifically mentioned finding a certain Naoi Rei 'adorably hot' that one time." Rei's face flames crimson, and she tries to hide behind her wine glass, muttering denials, but Yujin barrels on, clearly enjoying this. "She practically glowed, didn't you, princess? Couldn't stop smiling." Yujin winks at you over Rei's head.

"And don't even get me started," Yujin adds, turning back to Rei, "on how much you loved our little late-night debriefs during the tour. My very detailed... 'reports from the field'." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, making Rei groan and hide her face further. Yujin looks back at you, grinning. "Standard girl talk, you know. Just sharing... experiences." The implication hangs in the air: Yujin explicitly telling Rei details about your sex life. You decide to engage directly, turning your attention fully to Rei, whose blush now extends down her neck, disappearing into the water near the top of her lilac bikini.

"Is that true, Rei?" you ask, keeping your voice level, curious. "You enjoyed Yujin's... 'girl talk'?" Rei lowers her glass slowly, her eyes darting between you and Yujin. She takes a deep breath, seeming to gather her courage, fueled by the wine. "Well..." she starts, voice a little shaky but holding your gaze. "Unnie... she tells very vivid stories." A small, nervous smile plays on her lips. "It was... interesting. Hearing about... things." It's a confirmation, albeit a slightly flustered one. You can see her chest rising and falling a little faster now, her nipples clearly pebbled beneath the thin bikini fabric; maybe the cooling air hitting the wet fabric, maybe arousal, likely both.

Yujin laughs triumphantly. "Interesting? Oh, please! Admit it!" She nudges Rei again. "I bet you were lying there in your bunk after those calls, wide awake, picturing it all, huh? Imagining it was you underneath him instead of me?" She gestures towards you with a blatant lack of subtlety. "Picturing his hands on you, his mouth…?"

"Unnie! Stop it!" Rei squeals, splashing Yujin again, but there's no real heat behind it, only embarrassed giggling. She looks quickly at you, her eyes wide, then away again. "Maybe a little!" she finally admits, her tone muffled as she tries to hide her smile against her shoulder. "But it was your fault! Telling me all those things right before I was trying to sleep… it wasn't fair!" Even in her denial, there's an undertone of confession.

You can almost picture it: Rei, alone in her hotel room, listening to Yujin's explicit tales, her imagination running wild. The thought makes the pressure in your shorts almost painful. Yujin seems to sense Rei's flustered state, her arousal mixed with embarrassment. She assesses the situation, then pats the water beside you, or rather, directly over your submerged thighs. "You look uncomfortable all squished over there, princess," she says soothingly, though her eyes dance with calculation. "Why don't you come sit over here? On his lap. Much more comfortable, I bet."

Rei freezes, her eyes snapping towards the spot Yujin indicated—your lap. She looks at Yujin, then her wide, uncertain eyes land on you. She bites her lip, seeming torn between desire and nervousness. "Is... is that okay?" she asks you directly. Your heart hammers. This is a major step, orchestrated by Yujin but requiring Rei's explicit consent and action. You nod slowly, patting your thigh through the water as an invitation. "Yeah, sure. If you want to." Holding your breath, you watch as Rei carefully pushes herself off the ledge, maneuvering through the water towards you. She moves hesitantly at first, then with more purpose, finally positioning herself directly in front of you before slowly, carefully, lowering herself onto your lap, facing you.

Her wet skin slides against yours, her bikini bottom against your swim shorts. The initial contact is electric. You feel the surprising weight of her, the softness of her thighs pressing against yours, her stomach against your chest. Her arms instinctively come up to rest lightly on your shoulders for balance. She feels impossibly soft, warm, and undeniably real. You carefully bring your hands up, resting them gently on her waist, spanning the soft skin above the low-cut bikini bottoms. You feel her sharp intake of breath at your touch, her whole body tensing for a second before she seems to consciously relax, sinking slightly heavier onto you. Tentatively, her hands slide down from your shoulders to cover yours where they rest on her waist, her fingers intertwining with yours or maybe just gently massaging the back of your hands, a silent acceptance, even an encouragement, of your touch.

Yujin watches this entire transaction with a look of intense satisfaction, like a master puppeteer admiring her work. She takes a long, slow sip of her wine, letting the moment settle. "You know," she says eventually, dangerously casual, though her eyes gleam, "this reminds me..." She looks from Rei, now settled on your lap, back to you. "Way back, before you and I were even a thing..." Her gaze drifts back to Rei, who seems to freeze slightly at Yujin's tone. "...I used to help Rei relax just like this sometimes." Rei's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't deny it. "Remember those nights, princess?" Yujin continues softly, her voice intimate. "After a stressful practice? You'd come over, curl up on my lap just like this..." Yujin pauses, letting the image sink in, "...and I'd help you out downstairs. With my fingers."

Fuck.

Picturing Yujin—your Yujin—with her fingers buried inside Rei, Rei sitting on her lap, moaning… holy fuck. Hearing it spoken so casually, so possessively, makes your cock instantly strain against the confines of your shorts, becoming painfully, throbbingly hard beneath Rei's oblivious weight.

Rei surely must feel it now.

Yujin leans closer to Rei, ignoring your obvious physical reaction for the moment, focusing entirely on her friend now trapped on your lap, pinned by the memory and the present situation. "You miss that feeling, don't you?" Yujin probes gently. "Having someone's fingers teasing you just right? Making you come apart..." Rei trembles slightly, unable to meet Yujin's intense gaze. A tiny whimper escapes her lips. She manages a shaky, almost imperceptible nod, her eyes wide and glazed now with a mixture of memory, wine, and burgeoning need. "Yes..." she whispers. Yujin turns her triumphant gaze towards you, her eyes gleaming with manipulative delight and shared arousal. "Well?" she prompts, nodding towards Rei. "What are you waiting for? She clearly misses being touched. You should do it." Her voice is a command wrapped in suggestion. "Touch her." You look down at Rei, her face now tilted slightly upwards towards you, her lips parted, breathing shallowly. You can definitely feel your erection pressing insistently against the juncture of her thighs through the thin layers of your shorts and her bikini bottom.

"Rei?" you ask. "Do you want me to?" Rei's eyes flutter briefly, then focus on yours, dark pools of undeniable heat and pleading. She bites her already swollen lower lip. "Yes..." she breathes, the word shaky but firm. "Please... it would be... great." She leans slightly closer, her warm breath ghosting your cheek, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Unnie... Yujin said you're really good," she confesses, the final piece clicking into place, confirming the depth of their prior conversations. "With your fingers..." The invitation, the endorsement, the explicit permission hangs in the steamy air between you.

Rei's breathy consent, the confirmation that Yujin has already sung your praises ("good with your fingers"), hangs in the steam-filled air like an electric charge. Her eyes are locked on yours, wide and dark with a potent mix of wine, heat, and blatant, pleading need. She's heavy on your lap, the soft weight of her pressing down against your throbbing erection. There's no room for doubt, no space for hesitation now.

This is happening.

Your hand, still resting possessively on her waist, slides lower, fingers trailing over the smooth, wet skin revealed by the high-cut leg of her lilac bikini bottom. You feel her shiver beneath your touch, a full-body tremor that has nothing to do with cold. Your thumb traces the delicate line where the fabric meets her skin, right at the crease of her thigh. She lets out a tiny, sharp gasp, her fingers tightening instinctively on your hands where they still cover yours. Taking that as further encouragement, you carefully hook a finger under the thin, stretchy fabric of her bikini bottom, pulling it gently to the side. The movement reveals her completely beneath the water's surface: glimpses of soft folds, glistening pink flesh, looking impossibly vulnerable and inviting.

With painstaking slowness, you slide one finger forward, finding her entrance. She gasps again, louder this time, her head tipping back against your shoulder as your fingertip breaches her heat. Fuck, she feels incredible. Tight, velvety, impossibly hot. You push slightly deeper, feeling her inner muscles clench around your finger reflexively. "Mmmph," a soft, sweet moan escapes her lips, muffled against your skin. It’s the sound of pure, unguarded pleasure, and it sends another jolt straight to your already painfully hard cock. You add a second finger, sliding it in alongside the first, stretching her slightly. She whimpers, hips lifting instinctively off your lap for a second before settling back down, accommodating your intrusion. You start to move your fingers, a slow, exploratory rhythm, curling them slightly, searching, learning the feel of her. Her answering moans become less inhibited, soft sighs and sweet cries mixing with the gentle bubbling of the hot spring.

As you focus on exploring Rei's wet pussy, Yujin leans back against the stone edge beside you, watching the scene unfold with an unnervingly calm, intensely focused expression, like a scientist observing a fascinating experiment—albeit a scientist who is clearly getting turned on by the results. Her own breathing is slightly faster, her lips slightly parted, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. She takes a slow sip of wine, then begins to speak, her tone a low, seductive purr that cuts through the steamy air, deliberately amplifying the intimacy of the moment. "Mmm, listen to that sound," she murmurs, her gaze fixed on Rei's face, which is now flushed and contorted in pleasure. "She likes that, doesn't she, princess?" Yujin doesn't wait for an answer, her eyes flicking down to where your hand is working beneath the water, then up to meet your gaze.

"You know," she continues, "when I finally told her the full plan… not just that she was visiting, but that she was the main event..." Yujin lets the phrase hang in the air, savoring it. "...the official 'reward' for our very patient host here…" She smiles slowly. "...she practically melted right there on the phone. Couldn't stop asking questions. So excited, weren't you, Rei?" Rei just moans again in response, burying her face against your neck now, unable or unwilling to speak, lost in the sensations your fingers are creating.

Yujin chuckles softly, knowingly. "And she loved the idea… didn't you, baby?" she directs at Rei's hidden face, before looking back at you. "The idea of just… letting go for a week. Being taken care of. Being pampered, obviously, but also… being good." The word choice is deliberate, loaded. "Being obedient. She admitted she's fantasized about it… about submitting. Just handing over control and being told what to do, how to please." Yujin pauses, letting the implications sink in, her own arousal evident now in the slight flush on her cheeks and the undisguised heat in her voice. "So that's the deal," she declares, her tone becoming firm, almost business-like, yet still dripping with seduction. "For the rest of the week." She reaches out, trailing cool fingers across your bare shoulder, before gesturing between herself and Rei. "She's yours. Completely. We're yours." Her eyes lock with yours, intense and serious beneath the playful facade. "Anything you want. Any fantasy, any desire… consider it done. No limits, no questions asked. Our only job is to make you happy… and to take whatever you decide you want to give us." The sheer possessiveness in her tone, the explicit handover of control, the promise of absolute submission from both of them… it hits you like a drug. You feel your own cock pulse violently against Rei's backside, an involuntary throb of pure, unadulterated lust and power.

Rei certainly feels it. She gasps, her body going momentarily rigid against yours as your erection jerks beneath her. Her head snaps up from your shoulder, her eyes wide and glazed, looking at you with a mixture of shock and raw, escalating horniness. She knows exactly how turned on you are, pressed right up against her ass. And hearing Yujin lay out the terms, describing Rei's own supposed desire for submission while you're actively pleasuring her… it's clearly pushing Rei closer to the edge too. Her hips begin to move more deliberately against your fingers now, a small, instinctive grinding motion seeking more pressure, more friction. Her sweet moans are becoming louder, less inhibited, punctuated by sharp, breathy gasps. She clutches your arms tighter, her nails digging in slightly, not painfully, but with undeniable urgency.

The combination of Yujin's explicit, arousing words painting a picture of the week ahead, and the feel of Rei squirming and moaning on your lap, her tight heat clenching around your fingers, is making you dizzy with lust. You focus back on your task, increasing the pressure, finding a spot deep inside that makes Rei cry out, a high, keening sound that echoes off the water. Yujin watches, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk, her own body radiating waves of heat.

The night is dark now, the stars brilliant overhead, the steam swirling around the three of you in a cocoon of heat, wine, and rapidly escalating desire. Your fingers move faster inside Rei's slick pussy, finding a rhythm that makes her gasp and buck against your hand. She's incredibly responsive, her tightness clenching around you with every inward stroke, her wetness making your movements slick and easy. You alternate between deep, curling motions and circling pressure against that sensitive spot just inside her entrance, while your thumb finds her clit through the water, rubbing firmly, relentlessly.

Rei is completely lost in sensation now, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, sweet, helpless moans tumbling from her lips with increasing frequency. "Oh god… oh fuck… yes, right there," she gasps. "Please… please don't stop… fuck, I'm close… so close…" Her fingers dig into your shoulders, seeking purchase as her body trembles uncontrollably on your lap. Yujin watches, leaning forward slightly now. Her eyes are dark, pupils dilated, fixed on Rei's writhing form and your relentless fingers. "That's it," Yujin breathes. "Listen to her whimper… she needs it so bad. Make her come apart for us, baby. Make my little princess fucking scream all over your hand."

Yujin's crude encouragement, combined with Rei's desperate pleas, pushes your own excitement higher. You lean down, bringing your mouth close to Rei's ear, your lips brushing the sensitive shell. "You feel that, Rei?" you whisper. "How close you are? You're going to cum for me now. Right now. Let go. Fucking cum for me." Your words, low and demanding, seem to sever her last thread of control. A choked sob breaks from her throat. Her entire body goes rigid, tensing violently against you. Her inner muscles clench down hard around your fingers in a series of rapid, powerful pulses. A high-pitched, strangled cry rips from her lungs as her orgasm crashes over her, intense and overwhelming. She convulses on your lap, hips bucking spasmodically against your hand, riding out the waves of pleasure, completely undone. You hold her steady, keeping your fingers buried inside her, feeling the throbbing aftermath of her release, the hot slickness coating your hand.

As her shudders begin to subside, leaving her limp and trembling against you, gasping for breath, you gently lift her chin. Her eyes are unfocused, glazed with bliss, her face flushed a deep crimson, lips swollen and kiss-bruised looking. You capture her mouth with yours, a deep, possessive kiss, tasting the wine and her own unique flavor, a hint of salt from a tear of pleasure that escaped. You slide your tongue against hers, dominating the kiss for a moment before pulling back slightly, just enough to gently bite her plush lower lip, holding it for a second between your teeth. She whimpers softly at the small sting of pleasant pain. "Good girl," you murmur against her lips. "Such a good girl for me."

She just stares up at you, dazed and utterly pliant. You release her lip, letting your gaze drift from Rei's blissed-out face over to Yujin, who is watching you both with an intensely aroused, almost predatory gleam in her eyes. "Fuck," you breathe out, the word rough. "Seeing you like this," you nod towards Rei, still trembling slightly on your lap, "and hearing you talk like that," you glance at Yujin, acknowledging her filthy commentary and the power dynamic she established, "...you're both making me so fucking horny right now, it actually hurts."

The proof is undeniable, straining painfully against the inside of your swim shorts, pressed firmly against Rei’s soft backside. Action feels necessary, immediate. You gently take Rei's wrist, lifting her hand from your shoulder where it had been clutching tightly. Still holding her gaze, you guide her hand down through the warm water, pressing her palm flat against the thick, hard ridge of your erection straining beneath the damp fabric of your shorts. Her eyes fly wide open as her fingers make contact, a soft gasp escaping her lips. It takes her a second to process, then her fingers tentatively curl, closing around your length through the material. Even muffled by the fabric, the size and sheer hardness is obvious.

Her eyes widen further in genuine surprise, maybe even a little intimidation, before fascination takes over. Her fingers tighten, giving you an experimental squeeze, testing the feel of you. You watch her face, see the flicker of awe mixed with burgeoning, greedy curiosity. "You want this, Rei?" you ask, making sure Yujin can hear too. You push your hips forward slightly, letting Rei feel the full extent of your hardness pulsing against her palm. "Feel how hard you both make me?" Rei's breath hitches. She looks from her hand gripping your cock, up to your eyes, then maybe a quick, uncertain glance towards Yujin who nods almost imperceptibly, giving silent permission. Rei turns back to you, her eyes dark with newfound determination and undeniable lust. "Yes," she breathes. "God, yes… very much…"

Her confirmation is all you need. "Okay," you say softly, carefully easing Rei off your lap, helping her settle onto the submerged ledge beside where Yujin sits. Rei seems reluctant to let go, her eyes fixed on your groin. You stand up slightly in the hot water, ignoring the sudden rush of cooler air on your upper body, and quickly peel off your wet swim shorts, tossing them carelessly on the deck.

The second your cock springs free—thick, long, throbbing with blood and arousal—it draws a visible reaction. Rei’s lips part with a sharp little inhale, and Yujin's gaze drops instantly, lashes lowering with heat. You step up to the stone edge, placing one foot out of the spring, bracing it wide, grounding yourself, hips tilted just slightly forward. You know what you look like right now: cock hard and hanging heavy, glistening, your whole body haloed by steam and hunger.

“Come here,” you say. “Come suck.”

They don’t hesitate.

Yujin is first to move, slicking her soaked hair back as she wades forward, her eyes fixed to the way your cock twitches at the command. Rei’s right behind, crawling through the water like it’s instinctive, like her body doesn’t even require conscious thought anymore. She settles in beside Yujin, the two of them kneeling just at the lip of the spring, hands gripping the stone edge as they lean into you.

Yujin’s lips part as she leans in, but Rei beats her to it.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, almost reverently, breath warm as it ghosts across the head of your cock. “It’s huge…” She wraps a small, wet hand around your base, unable to fully close her fingers around it, and looks up at you like she’s discovered a secret meant only for her. “You weren’t kidding, unnie,” she murmurs without breaking eye contact. “You told me he was big, but… fuck. He’s thick. It’s so… hot.”

Your cock twitches hard in her hand, veins bulging under her fingers as she strokes you slowly, getting used to the heft, the weight of you. Yujin just grins, watching her like she’s proud of a new recruit.

“Told you,” Yujin says, inching closer. Her hand joins Rei’s, wrapping around the upper half of your shaft, and the two of them begin to stroke in sync—Rei near the base, Yujin working the upper half, their small hands overlapping, warm and slick from the spring. “He’s addictive. Just wait till you taste him.”

Rei’s breath catches, and she leans in, lips brushing the tip, kissing it like she’s testing heat from a fire. Then her mouth opens and she takes just the head into her mouth, slow, wide, soft lips forming a seal around your swollen tip. The warmth of her mouth makes your hips flex, your hands curling into fists at your sides. She lets out a soft, muffled moan, cheeks hollowing as she sinks down a little deeper.

Yujin doesn’t wait her turn—her mouth finds your balls, her tongue tracing slow, teasing circles over the sensitive skin before pulling one into her mouth with a hum of satisfaction.

“God, fuck,” you mutter, breath catching in your throat, stomach tightening as you watch them both worship you. Rei’s head bobs slow, tentative but eager, her mouth stretching wider every time she sinks a little deeper. She drools easily, spit rolling down your cock in messy strands, painting you wet and shiny. Yujin's sucking hard now, one hand gently massaging your other ball, and the contrast—Rei’s tight little mouth above, Yujin’s skilled tongue below—makes your knees tremble.

Rei pulls off with a gasp, strings of spit clinging between her lips and your cock, her eyes wide and wild. “It barely fits,” she breathes, stroking your length with both hands now, licking her lips like she’s starving. “It’s fucking perfect. Like… thick enough to make my jaw ache.”

Yujin chuckles, leaning in to lick a long stripe up the underside of your cock from base to tip, tongue flattening against the thick vein that pulses along it. “Bet your throat stretches around him,” she says to Rei. “Let me show you how deep he goes.”

Before Rei can reply, Yujin takes over, her mouth wrapping around your cock and sliding down like she knows exactly what she’s doing—and of course, she does. She takes more in one go than Rei managed, her lips sinking halfway down your shaft in one wet, practiced glide. She moans around you, vibrations rolling up your cock, eyes fluttering shut with bliss.

“Shit, baby,” you groan, reaching down to push her damp hair off her face, watching it cling to her cheeks. “That mouth is gonna make me lose it if you keep that up.”

Rei stares, spellbound, her fingers still wrapped tight around your base. “You’re seriously deepthroating him,” she says in awe, her free hand sliding down to her own chest, palm rubbing over the swell of one breast through the soaked bikini. “That’s so hot. I want to try.”

Yujin pulls off with a slick pop, grinning up at you, her lips red and swollen. “Tag team?”

You just nod, hips twitching, cock soaked and gleaming with their spit, twitching again when Rei leans in, licking a circle around your tip before slowly sinking down again, her tongue moving like she’s mapping every inch. Yujin stays low, trailing wet kisses along your balls and inner thighs, her fingers slipping between Rei’s stroking hands to cup your base.

“God, you taste amazing,” Rei whispers, looking up at you through thick lashes, her mouth returning to your cock without waiting for an answer. Her lips part and she sinks a little deeper this time, gagging slightly but not pulling away.

You’re groaning now, hips flexing forward in short, shallow thrusts, letting your cock nudge against the back of her throat just once—just enough to make her moan around you and pull back again, gasping for air.

Yujin leans up beside her, licking the side of your shaft before pressing her cheek to Rei’s. “Good girl,” she whispers. “You’re taking him so well. Bet your pussy’s soaking just from having his cock in your mouth.”

Rei whines, rubbing her thighs together beneath the water, still bobbing slowly on your cock, her hands trembling where they grip your hips.

Your hand slides down, fingers curling under her chin, lifting her off your cock with slow, wet resistance. Her lips pop off with a breathy gasp, her eyes glazed, mouth red and glistening. She licks the spit off her bottom lip like it’s sugar.

“Let’s take it further,” you say.

And both their eyes light up—Rei’s with wonder. Yujin’s with knowing.

Rei starts sucking your cock again, her lips stretched wide around your length, face flushed, her dark lashes fluttering every time your tip presses against the soft resistance at the back of her throat. Her tiny hand cradles your balls delicately, almost reverently, fingers splayed, palm warm against the slick weight of them. She’s trembling slightly, maybe from the heat, maybe from the way her mouth is completely full of your thick cock. Either way, the image is obscene, perfect—her soft cheeks bulging, eyes watery, her petite face dwarfed by the sheer size of you.

And she’s trying. Desperately. Gagging now and then, but not pulling back. Moaning low, the vibrations wrapping around your shaft, her lips soaked with spit and determination.

Yujin crouches beside her, one hand casually braced on Rei’s shoulder, the other gently stroking through her hair, occasionally slipping down to cup the side of her face, steady her. "Look at her," she murmurs, her breath hitting your thigh as she leans in. “Such a good girl. Taking that fat cock so deep already.” Her tongue flicks across her lips, eyes gleaming with heat. “You like that, baby? You like seeing our sweet little Rei choking on your dick?”

You groan, the sound guttural, involuntary. “Fuck yes.”

The heat coils tighter in your belly as you grip Rei’s jaw gently, guiding her mouth back to your cock, and this time—this time you don’t wait for her rhythm. You move. You slide in deeper, pushing past the resistance of her lips, her tongue, the soft clamp of her throat. She makes a surprised sound, a muffled whimper as her hands clutch at your thighs, but she doesn’t pull away. Her lips seal instinctively around you again as you push, slow at first, testing how far she’ll let you in.

And then you thrust.

Harder.

Faster.

Rei’s moan turns into a wet, choking sound, tears instantly springing to the corners of her wide eyes. You watch, transfixed, as your cock stretches her jaw, disappears between her lips again and again, her throat working frantically to take you. Her small, perfect face becomes a canvas for your desire—spit streaming down her chin, cheeks flushing deep pink, eyeliner starting to smear from the pressure building behind her eyes.

Yujin’s voice snakes up beside you, dirty and low. “That’s it. Fuck her face. Use that pretty little mouth.” Her grip tightens in Rei’s hair, not yanking, just anchoring her in place. “Don’t be shy, baby. She can take it. She wants it, look at her.”

You do. Rei looks up through the blur of tears and spit, and the expression in her eyes is devastating—need, submission, that messy pride of making you this desperate, this wild. She gags again as you bottom out in her throat, but her hands don’t push you away. She stays still for it, lets you rock your hips and fuck her mouth just the way you need. Her moans are guttural now, rising every time you slide deep into her throat and hold for a breathless moment before pulling back.

You can’t stop.

Every time you draw back and see the trail of spit that clings to your cock, the glisten of it painting her lips, it makes you growl—low and hot and feral. Her jaw is working to keep up, her face messy and slick, completely ruined for you. And Yujin—Yujin fucking loves it. Her hand strokes Rei’s cheek while her other dips between Rei’s legs, unseen beneath the bubbling surface of the water, but the sharp little gasps that break free between chokes tell you she’s not just comforting her.

“You’re making her so wet,” Yujin breathes, eyes half-lidded. “She’s so horny, I can feel it. Just from getting her throat used like this. Fuck, babe. She’s so fucking into it. You feel how she moans around your cock? She’s gonna cum just from this, just from choking on you.”

That image sears into your brain. Rei on her knees, sobbing, gagging, coming with nothing but your cock down her throat and Yujin’s fingers in her soaked cunt. You fuck her mouth deeper, harder, a few short brutal thrusts that make her gurgle and spasm, her eyes rolling up slightly. She coughs and chokes, but doesn’t pull back. Her nose presses against your pelvis, breath coming in desperate little hitches between thrusts.

“God—Rei,” you groan, your hand tightening at the base of her skull, your hips still grinding forward. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Yujin presses a kiss to the crown of Rei’s head, still holding her steady, her voice soft but edged with something twisted and proud. “That’s right, princess. Take it all. Let him use you.”

Rei lets out a strangled, needy whimper as she forces her eyes to look up again, lips stretched wide, tears tracking down her cheeks now. You don’t stop. Her throat is tight around you, wet and desperate and swallowing you again and again as you fuck into her with deep, powerful strokes.

“You gonna cum down her throat?” Yujin whispers beside you, licking her lips as she watches Rei drool around your cock. “You gonna stuff her little tummy full of your cum, huh? Let her feel it flood inside her? You know she’ll swallow every drop. She’d beg for it.” She shifts closer, one hand cupping your balls with slow, teasing strokes as Rei gags again, helpless, obedient. “I’d watch. I’d rub myself raw watching you finish in her mouth.”

Your control hangs by a fucking thread. Rei is a mess beneath you now, her mouth stretched red, spit pouring, eyes swimming—but she’s not stopping. She’s moaning around your cock like she loves it, even as she chokes, even as her throat spasms.

You don’t stop. You fuck her mouth harder.

You make her take it…

Your rhythm gets brutal. The slap of your hips against Rei’s flushed face echoes off the wood deck like a metronome set to ruin. You hold her by the back of the head now, no pretense of gentleness—just raw, driving need. Her lips are red and shiny, stretched to their limit, her cheeks stained with tears and saliva, your cock disappearing into the tight heat of her throat over and over with unrelenting force. She gags again, full-body spasms racking her frame, and you still don’t stop. Her hands are gripping your thighs, nails digging in as she tries to brace herself for the next deep thrust, her tiny form jolting with every fuck-deep stroke you feed her.

And then—she looks up.

Her eyes lock on yours, glassy, wet, completely wrecked and yet still wide open.

Wanting. Needing.

That look shoots straight down your spine like a lightning bolt. Something cracks inside you, a pressure that’s been building with every choking gasp, every wet drag of her lips, and it detonates in your gut.

“Fuck—” you grunt, your hand twisting in her hair, holding her face right where you want it. “I’m gonna cum—”

Yujin gasps beside you, like she’s been waiting to hear those exact words. Her tone is ragged now, laced with lust so thick it could choke. “Yes—fuck yes, baby, cum in her mouth. Give it to her. Stuff that little throat full. She’ll swallow it all.” Her fingers are already pulling her one-piece aside, the sleek black fabric dragged across her hip so she can slide two fingers directly into the slick mess between her thighs. “Look at her. She’s ready for it. She wants every fucking drop.”

Rei makes a choked noise around your cock, a garbled moan that shudders through your shaft as her throat clenches in anticipation. Her eyes never leave yours. She knows what she’s doing to you. Your hips jerk forward, faster now, desperate, out of control. You don’t care that she’s gagging, that her body convulses every time you push deep. She’s not stopping. She wants this.

Yujin’s hand is working between her thighs now, her other hand on Rei’s head, holding her steady as you use her mouth like a cock sleeve. Her lips part on a gasp. “Cum, baby,” she whispers, voice full of filth and adoration. “Cum in her mouth. Let her taste it. Fill her up so full she has no choice but to swallow every fucking drop. She’ll do it. She’s so good. Such a good little cocksucker for us.”

That’s it. That’s the last thread gone.

Your whole body locks. You push in deep, balls slapping wet against her chin, burying yourself fully down her throat. Her nose presses flush to your pelvis, her throat a tight, spasming vice around your cock—and then you explode.

“Fuck—fuck, take it—”

Thick jets of cum shoot down her throat, your cock twitching violently with every pulse, unloading more than you thought you even had in you. Rei chokes, spasms, her throat working frantically to swallow around your cock. She moans around it, eyes rolling back slightly, face flushed and raw and so fucking obedient as she gulps every single drop you feed her.

Yujin’s watching, panting, two fingers fucking herself hard and fast as she murmurs, “That’s it, swallow it—good girl, good fucking girl, don’t waste a drop—” Her own hips are jerking against her hand, the slap of fingers on wet flesh lost under the growl of your release.

You stay buried in Rei’s mouth until the last pulse fades, your thighs trembling, your hand still knotted in her hair. When you finally pull back, a long string of spit and seed clings from her lips to your cock before snapping, falling to her chin in a viscous trail. Rei gasps for air, coughing slightly, but she swallows again, visibly, her tongue darting out to catch the last of your mess. Her lips are puffy, cheeks shiny with tears, but she looks—fucking blissed out.

Yujin’s still panting, her hand shaking as she rubs herself through the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Then she leans forward, still flushed and glowing, and reaches down with one hand, tilting Rei’s chin up gently.

“Tongue out,” Yujin says softly. “Show me.”

Rei obeys instantly, her mouth falling open, tongue extended—wet, pink, glistening with spit and cum.

Yujin moans.

She leans in, pressing her mouth to Rei’s, not a kiss—no, this is something else entirely. She sucks on Rei’s tongue, slow and dirty, her lips sealing over it, her cheeks hollowing as she drinks the remnants of your cum from Rei’s mouth like it’s her fucking reward.

Rei moans again, hands twitching in the water, her whole body visibly shuddering from the sheer intensity. When Yujin finishes, chin drooling, Rei gasps for air, looking completely ruined, yet entirely hot.

“So,” Yujin says softly against Rei’s ear, “what’d you think?” Her hand drifts up, knuckles grazing the side of Rei’s neck, fingers trailing back down the curve of her spine. “You like being used like that? Mouth full of cock, throat stuffed like a little toy?”

Rei lets out a shaky laugh, cheeks coloring deeper, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she runs her hand up your thigh, fingers grazing the inside, slow and teasing, until she’s just beneath your cock again, her palm flat against your skin, dangerously close. She glances up at you, lips still wet, and that shy-turned-hungry smile spreads across her face like she’s only just realizing how much she loved it.

“I felt… so slutty,” she admits, almost breathless. “Like I was just a thing. A plaything for you. It was…” Her fingertips slide higher, brushing your balls with delicate, lingering pressure. “It was hot.” Her eyes search yours, equal parts reverent and mischievous. “Was it good for you?”

You reach down, gently cradling her cheek in one hand, thumb brushing across her damp jaw as you lean in. She closes her eyes, tilting into the touch. You press a kiss to her forehead, slow and warm. “It was perfect,” you murmur.

Then she feels it—your cock, still hard, still heavy, throbbing just inches from her face.

You don’t need to say it.

Yujin’s already watching the twitch of your shaft, the tension in your body, the way your hips are still subtly tilted forward like you’re fighting not to grind against Rei’s hand. “Mmm,” she hums, lips brushing Rei’s shoulder. “Still so hard… Guess you’re not done with us yet, huh?” She meets your eyes with a wicked grin. “You still have a lot of cum to give, don’t you?”

You nod slowly, jaw tight, blood still pumping hot with need.

“Then come on,” Yujin says, standing up and pulling Rei with her, water cascading down both their bodies in glistening streams. “Inside. It’s freezing out here and I want more to fuck without slipping into the damn hot spring.”

You laugh under your breath, grabbing a towel where you left it around the hot spring. Rei stumbles slightly, still a little dazed from the throatfucking, and Yujin steadies her with one arm, pulling her close as you wrap the towel around your waist. You grab another for the girls, slinging it around their shoulders like a shared cocoon, all three of you huddled together as you hurry across the deck. The cold wind slices at your skin, but you barely feel it. The only real heat lives between your legs and in the way both of them press against you—Rei at your left side, damp hair clinging to her neck, and Yujin at your right, one hand tucked low against your back, fingers sneaking lower.

You reach the door and stumble inside, laughing as you kick it shut behind you. The warmth hits instantly, the heat from the fire wrapping around your bodies. The towel clings wetly to your thighs. You’re still dripping, still slightly shivering, but that doesn't matter because you’re already pulling them toward the bedroom, your free hand tangled in Yujin’s.

The bed swallows you as you drop back onto it, not even bothering to pull the covers back. The girls land beside you, Rei’s towel slipping off her shoulders, baring one flushed shoulder, the curve of her breast peeking out. You catch her, hand sliding behind her neck as you pull her in for a kiss. Her lips are soft and wet and still taste faintly of you. Her body presses into yours, towel loosening, the curve of her hip against your bare side.

You break the kiss and turn to Yujin, who’s already crawling up your chest like a predator, straddling your waist. You pull her down, mouth colliding with hers in something rougher, deeper. Tongues slide. Teeth graze. She moans into you, grinding her hips slowly against your stomach.

Then you pull both of them in—arms around their waists—and your mouths meet in a chaotic tangle. A triple kiss, hot and messy, your tongues brushing, lips dragging, breathing in each other’s heat. It’s clumsy in the best way—spit-slicked and uncoordinated and absolutely filthy. Rei moans softly into your mouth, then turns her head slightly and kisses Yujin, their lips pressing together in a quiet gasp, and you just watch, heart pounding, cock pulsing, as the two of them fall into each other’s mouths like they were always meant to.

“Mmh,” you murmur, reaching between them to cup Rei’s ass, giving it a slow, possessive squeeze. “Take off the swimsuits.” Your cock is already twitching in your hand, precum beading at the tip as you stroke slowly, eyes fixed on the girls as they scramble to obey.

Yujin’s already halfway out of her black one-piece, dragging the fabric over her hips with a sharp tug. She shrugs it down her shoulders and tosses it to the floor, stretching out on the bed naked and glowing, her thick thighs spread just enough to flash a teasing hint of the pink between them. Rei hesitates for a second, Then she unties her bikini top, letting her breasts fall free and heavy, after that she finally takes off her bottom.

And there she is. Fully nude. Finally.

You don’t even try to hide your reaction—your cock throbs violently in your fist at the sight. Her body is delicate, soft curves where you imagined them, her breasts, bigger than Yujin's, are fuller and rounder too, her waist tapering down to a gentle flare of hips, her pussy bare, glistening faintly with the mix of arousal and water. She flushes under your gaze, biting her lip, eyes dropping to your cock like she knows exactly what she’s done to you.

You don’t give her time to second guess.

You grab her, pulling her close, crashing your mouth to hers again. One hand grips her ass—juicy, smooth, perfect in your palm—the other sliding up to cup her breast, your thumb brushing over the pebbled nipple. She gasps into the kiss, hips jerking against yours, her chest rising sharply as you roll the nipple between your fingers.

Then Yujin groans.

“Don’t forget about me, baby!” You can feel the arousal in her voice, needier than she probably means it to sound. “You think I’m gonna just lie here and watch while you play with your new toy?”

You grin, breaking the kiss with Rei, and turn to face her.

“Impossible,” you say simply, crawling between her thighs, lining your cock up with the heat that’s practically dripping from her greedy pussy. “You’re unforgettable.”

Yujin arches into you the second your tip presses against her, her hands flying to her breasts, squeezing them together as you push inside, slow and heavy. She lets out a loud, shameless moan, her head tipping back, mouth open, one leg locking around your waist.

“Fuck—yes, that’s it—fill me up—”

You start thrusting, your rhythm fast from the start, desperate to bury yourself in that velvet heat. Her pussy grips you like it remembers, like it missed you as much as you missed it, and your breath shudders out of you as you drive in harder.

Yujin reaches for Rei, pulling her closer, guiding the girl to straddle her chest. “Come here, baby,” she whispers, mouth already open, eyes hazy. “Let me taste you too.”

Rei moans softly, hips jerking as she moves, and a second later Yujin wraps her lips around one of Rei’s breasts, sucking it deep into her mouth while she’s beneath you, spread wide and soaking wet, her thighs slick with arousal and your cock punching into her over and over in a rhythm that’s pure desperation. Her body rocks up with every thrust, tits bouncing, hands braced on Rei’s waist as she keeps her mouth locked around one perfect breast. Her lips are sealed tight around Rei’s nipple, tongue swirling and flicking with the kind of focused hunger that makes Rei gasp, her fingers tightening in Yujin’s hair, head tipped back in a dazed, helpless moan.

Your hands are gripping Yujin’s hips, pulling her down hard to meet every thrust, drowning in the soft gasps and wet sucking noises filling the air. You’re balls-deep, your cock practically dragging her moans out of her with every stroke, and she’s so fucking tight around you—like her pussy is trying to milk every ounce of cum out of your body, even though you’ve barely recovered from the last time.

“Fuck,” Yujin groans, lips slick with spit and soft pink skin as she pulls back from Rei’s chest just for a breath, then dives right back in with a growl, dragging her tongue across the other breast. “Taste so good. Don’t stop, baby.”

Rei’s thighs tremble as she shifts forward, her body flush against Yujin’s, straddling her chest while you pound into her from below. Her hand trails down, fingertips feathering along Yujin’s stomach, nails grazing lower until she finds the swollen cunt between Yujin’s thighs. You feel her touch even from where you are, your cock brushing the edge of her fingers as she slides them across Yujin’s clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Yujin’s reaction is instant.

She cries out, arching her back hard, her tits pressing up into Rei’s mouth, the sudden pulse of pleasure making her tighten around you like a fist. “Shit—yes—right there, keep going!” she gasps, grinding herself against Rei’s hand even as she tries to fuck herself harder on your cock. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

Rei’s breath hitches, her fingers working faster now, slipping through the flood of wetness as her thumb flicks Yujin’s clit with practiced precision. Her voice is breathless, reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this, unnie,” she whispers, eyes fixed on Yujin’s flushed face, her parted lips, the tears beading at the corners of her eyes from the intensity. “Getting fucked like this… moaning for his cock, clenching so tight… it’s making me so fucking horny.”

Yujin lets out a choked moan, her hips jerking violently between you both, your cock slamming deep as her cunt contracts around you like she’s on the edge. Her hands claw at the sheets, at Rei’s hips, her teeth grazing Rei’s nipple as she bites down lightly, overwhelmed by the dual assault of your cock pounding into her and Rei’s fingers teasing her clit with such focused intent.

“You hear that?” you growl, leaning down to press your chest to Yujin’s, your lips brushing her ear. “You’ve got her dripping just watching you get ruined on my cock.”

Yujin nods frantically, her legs spreading wider, her heels digging into the mattress. “Yeah—fuck, I can feel it—feels so fucking good—I’m gonna—”

But she doesn’t finish the sentence. Rei’s fingers are too precise, too hungry, and your pace doesn’t let up for a second. You slam into her again and again, her body jerking under yours, her cunt fluttering around you in a frantic, desperate rhythm. Rei moans softly as Yujin sucks harder on her breast, her own thighs grinding against Yujin’s stomach, every one of her senses lit on fire by the sight of her unnie breaking apart beneath you.

And still—you don’t stop.

Yujin’s body is shaking now, her moans slipping into helpless little cries that bounce off the bedroom walls, every breath stuttering through clenched teeth as your cock drills into her harder, deeper, without pause. Her eyes are half-lidded, mouth open, drool smeared on her bottom lip, and her fingers claw at the sheets like they might anchor her through the hurricane you and Rei are dragging her into. Her thighs tremble around your waist, flexing and locking every few seconds like she’s fighting off the inevitable—like her orgasm’s already coiling hard in her core, just waiting for permission to destroy her.

And you and Rei? You’re fucking relentless.

You pound into her with wild, piston-like thrusts, hips snapping forward as you bury your cock again and again in her slick, greedy pussy. She's soaked, you can feel it with every wet slap of your bodies—feel the obscene gush of her arousal coating your length, dripping down your balls. Rei hasn’t moved from between Yujin’s thighs, her fingers circling her clit with expert rhythm, her other hand groping Yujin’s tits, squeezing and slapping them playfully, watching the way they bounce with each thrust you give her. Her eyes are wide with hunger, her mouth parted as she pants against Yujin’s stomach.

Yujin screams through her teeth, her voice raw. “Fuck—fuck—I’m close—so fucking close—”

You lean in, grabbing her by the jaw, making her look at you. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?” you snarl, grinding your hips deep. “You gonna cum all over my cock like a good fucking slut?”

Rei's giggle is high and bright, but there’s a filthy edge to it, a manic kind of thrill in her tone as she presses harder against Yujin’s clit. “She is, she’s so close,” Rei coos, licking her fingers to taste Yunjin's juices and then returning the relentless assault. “Look at her. Fucking wrecked. She’s gonna explode just from us using her. You gonna cum, unnie?” Her fingers slap Yujin’s clit once, a sharp flick that makes her jolt, back arching off the bed. “You gonna make a mess for us?”

“Say it,” you growl, fucking her harder. “Say it, cum for me.”

“Do it, slut,” Rei spits, her tone suddenly darker, filthier. “Cum like the whore you are. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a bitch in heat. Getting used by your dongsaeng and your man like a cheap little cumrag.”

Yujin’s eyes flutter back in her head, a long, trembling moan spilling from her throat. “Yes—yes—I’m your fucking whore——I don’t care, just don’t stop—please, don’t stop—”

Rei's dirty talk turns savage, insatiable, you can hardly recognize her. “That’s right. Take it, slut. Let everyone see how much of a mess you are. Getting pounded like a dumb little toy, drooling like a dog. Bet your pussy’s gonna squirt all over the bed, huh? Gonna fucking soak us, unnie?”

“Cum for us,” you demand, breath burning through your chest as your cock slams into her again, again, again. “Fucking cum—now.”

Rei’s voice layers on top of yours, teasing, cruel, loving it. “Do it, unnie—cum on his cock like a little whore, make a fucking mess—cum—”

Yujin breaks.

She screams—no words, just pure noise, the kind that comes from deep in the gut, primal and raw—and her body locks up beneath you, thighs squeezing around your waist as her pussy spasms violently around your cock. Then it hits—hard—a sudden gush that blasts out of her, hot and wet, soaking your hips, your stomach, the sheets beneath her.

“FUCK—she’s squirting,” Rei shrieks, laughing in breathless delight, pulling her hand back to watch Yujin’s orgasm drench everything. “Oh my god, you’re squirting for us, you filthy little slut—fuck, that’s hot—”

The bed is soaked, dripping with the force of it, and still you keep fucking her, your cock driving through the spasms of her climax like you’re determined to draw every drop of pleasure out of her trembling body. Her hands are limp beside her head, fists curled into the sheets, her chest heaving with every gasping breath, her mouth slack and smiling, glowing with fucked-out bliss.

Rei's crawling up beside her now, brushing the wet hair from her face, giggling softly as she kisses her cheek. “So fucking pretty like this,” she whispers, tracing her fingers along the mess between Yujin’s thighs. “You’re perfect when you cum like that. You’re our perfect little cumslut.”

Yujin just sighs, her eyelids fluttering, her lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile. “I love you both,” she murmurs. “So fucking much.”

Her skin glowing with sweat and afterglow, her inner thighs glistening with her own juices. Her breath comes in soft little sighs, each exhale a ripple of contentment across her flushed lips. But her eyes—they’re sharp now, glinting with a familiar spark as they shift from you to Rei. Rei’s sitting on her knees beside her, hair tousled, still giggling under her breath, clearly reveling in the chaos of Yujin's explosive orgasm, fingers tracing random shapes across the wet sheets like a girl who’s just watched her favorite fireworks show and wants it all over again.

Yujin watches her with a tilt of her head, her lips curling up slowly into something delicious. “You know…” she says in a warm voice, a little hoarse, “I think Rei might be getting a little too comfortable calling me a whore.”

That catches Rei’s attention immediately. She blinks, straightens up slightly, eyes flicking to you, then back to Yujin. “I was just… helping,” she says with mock innocence, but her smirk betrays her.

Yeah. She’s definitely not sorry.

You glance at Yujin, eyebrow raised, and she grins up at you. “Don’t you think our little baby here’s being a bit bossy? Throwing all that dirty talk around like she forgot who the real slut is?”

You chuckle, rolling your hips slowly into Yujin one last time before pulling out, your cock heavy and still hard, glistening with her juices. “I do,” you say, meeting Rei’s gaze. “Sounds like someone needs a reminder about her place.”

Rei’s expression falters for just a second—her breath catches, her thighs clench subtly—and then her tongue darts out across her bottom lip.

“W-what do you mean?”

Yujin hums, her hand reaching out to stroke Rei’s cheek. “It means, baby girl, you forgot that I’m your unnie,” she says sweetly. “And you don’t get to call me names like that unless we tell you to.” Her fingers trail down to Rei’s lips, thumb brushing her lower one. “So I think it’s time you show a little respect, don’t you?”

You nod, shifting on the bed, your hand tangling in Rei’s hair. “Start by cleaning her up,” you say, firm and low. “That pussy’s a mess because of you. Lick her clean. Use that filthy little mouth for something useful.”

Rei hesitates for half a beat. Then, slowly, deliberately, she crawls down Yujin’s body, eyes never leaving yours. She settles between her unnie’s thighs, her hands sliding under Yujin’s knees to hold her open, and lowers her face.

The second her tongue flicks out and brushes across Yujin’s oversensitive clit, Yujin’s entire body jerks.

“Fuck—” she hisses, hips twitching violently. “Oh my god—so sensitive—”

But she doesn’t stop her. In fact, her legs fall wider apart, trembling slightly, breath ragged. Rei’s tongue moves slowly, almost reverently at first, lapping up every trace of cum and slick smeared across Yujin’s swollen folds. Her mouth shines with it within seconds, spit and juice and sweat painting her chin as she dives in deeper, tongue curling through Yujin’s folds, licking around her clit, flicking across the soft skin just below.

Yujin moans, hands fisting in the sheets. “Holy shit, baby girl… You’re lucky I’m not too wrecked to push you off—fuck—right there—”

Rei moans softly, her own thighs rubbing together as she licks Yujin clean, slowly, thoroughly, like she’s savoring every drop. Her hands keep Yujin’s legs open even as they twitch and quake, her tongue moving with agonizing patience over every inch of her unnie’s cunt.

Finally, when Yujin pushes at her head with a shuddering breath, too sensitive to take more, Rei pulls back—her lips glossy, cheeks flushed, her mouth open and panting. She looks up at you for approval, eyes wide and pupils blown, her mouth slick and pink.

You reach down and cup her jaw, pulling her in close. You kiss her—deep and dirty, tongue sliding into her mouth to taste your girl’s cum straight from her tongue. She melts into it instantly, moaning against your lips, her hands gripping your arms for balance.

“Good girl,” you murmur against her mouth. “You clean your unnie up so sweet.”

You shift on the bed, stretching out onto your back. Yujin smiles and rolls to the side, still catching her breath, propped up on her elbow to watch. You pat your thigh, eyes locked on Rei. “Now ride me. Let me feel that tight little pussy.”

Rei’s breath catches, eyes wide as she moves into position. She swings one leg over your hips, straddling you. Her hands plant on your chest, and she lines herself up—gripping your cock in one shaking hand and guiding the head to her soaked slit. You both groan at the contact.

She lowers herself slowly, inch by inch, and the tight heat of her pussy wraps around your cock like a vice.

“Shit,” you groan, your head tipping back. “Fucking tight—Jesus—”

Rei gasps, mouth open as she sinks down fully, her walls stretching wide to take your full length. Her nails dig into your chest, her entire body shaking as she bottoms out, your cock pulsing inside her.

“Oh my god,” she moans, hips trembling. “I—he’s so big—I feel so full—”

She sits there for a second, breath stuttering, getting used to it. Then, slowly, achingly, she starts to move—lifting her hips an inch, then sliding back down. Over and over, slow and shallow, her body adjusting to the stretch, her breath catching every time your cock brushes deep inside her.

Yujin watches with that wicked smile returning, eyes glued to where your bodies meet. “Look at her,” she purrs, reaching out to run her hand down Rei’s spine. “Fucking herself on that cock like she was made for it.”

And you don’t disagree.

Because Rei looks like she was made to be fucked just like this.

Rei begins to move with more confidence, her breath soft and fluttering with each bounce, hips rolling into a rhythm that makes her moan louder with every rise and fall. Her knees dig into the mattress on either side of your thighs, thighs flexing, slick skin catching the low firelight as she works herself down your cock with growing need. She’s tight, unbelievably so, her pussy stretching just enough to take you, her inner walls clenching around you like they want to keep every inch buried inside. The sounds—wet, obscene, addicting—mix with her whimpers, the slap of her hips against yours, the breathy gasps that escape her parted lips every time your cock punches up into that spot that makes her whole body twitch.

You grip her waist, thumbs digging into the soft dip above her hips, guiding her, not controlling—just giving her something to grind against. And fuck does she grind. Her pace picks up, small moans catching in her throat, her head falling back as she bounces a little harder, a little deeper. Her hair sticks to her neck and shoulders, her breasts rising and falling with each thrust.

Yujin’s watching, eyes hungry, a slow grin curving across her lips. She shifts up onto her knees, scooting closer until her chest presses against Rei’s back. Her hands reach around, cupping Rei’s tits, squeezing them roughly. Rei lets out a sharp gasp, arching against her, grinding your cock even deeper inside herself.

“Mmm,” Yujin hums, kissing the curve of Rei’s neck, her fingers pinching lightly at her nipples. “Tell me, isn't his cock better than my fingers, baby?” she whispers, sliding one hand down to press against Rei’s belly, feeling how deep you’re inside her. “Still think they feel better than his cock?”

Rei’s head tips forward, lips trembling. “N-no,” she gasps, voice high and shaking. “Nothing—nothing’s better than this. Than him.”

Yujin bites at her shoulder lightly, dragging her tongue across the red mark left behind. “That’s what I thought.” Her hand snakes back up, fingers rolling Rei’s nipples again, harder now, making her whimper and clench around you. “You look so fucking hot like this, getting ruined on his cock.”

You groan, hands sliding up Rei’s sides to meet Yujin’s, fingers brushing, the three of you moving together like a machine of heat and rhythm. Rei keeps riding, her moans getting louder, sharper, her body rocking forward every time your hips meet hers. You thrust up to meet her now, hard and deep, the rhythm intensifying until the wet slap of skin is constant, echoing through the room.

Yujin laughs softly, catching the way your jaw tightens, your eyes locked to where your cock disappears into Rei’s soaked pussy. She reaches down and brushes her fingers across your cheek, dragging your attention up to her face.

“You like watching her ride you, huh?” she says with a voice like velvet, sultry and knowing. “Like seeing our little toy bounce on your cock like she’s starving for it.”

You let out a low groan, hips jerking up harder into Rei, making her cry out and collapse forward against your chest.

“She’s perfect,” you breathe, your hands gripping Rei’s hips harder now, keeping her locked in your rhythm. “Fuck, you’re the best girlfriend in the world, Yujin.”

Yujin giggles, delighted, her lips brushing your jaw. “Damn right I am.” She leans down to kiss you, slow and deep, her tongue curling against yours, wet and hot and tasting like sex. Rei’s still riding through it, gasping between you both, her breath stuttering against your neck as her cunt milks your cock with every thrust.

You break the kiss just in time to watch her sit up again, her face pink and glowing, her body slick with sweat. She grinds down harder now, her pussy gripping you tighter, her rhythm more frantic, needier. Her hands press to your chest, nails raking slightly as she tries to steady herself, to keep control, but she’s unraveling—every second on your cock breaking her down more.

Yujin leans forward again, wrapping her arms around Rei from behind, pulling her flush to her chest. “Don’t slow down now, baby,” she whispers, lips brushing Rei’s ear. “Show him how good that tight little cunt of yours is. Make him lose his fucking mind.”

Rei moans, louder than before, her entire body jolting as she rides harder, faster. She rides you like she’s unraveling, hips jerking faster, sloppier, every grind more desperate than the last. Her moans have lost all inhibition—high, sweet, sharp little cries that echo off the walls, spiraling up through the rafters of the mountain home and disappearing into the cold air beyond the glass. She’s not holding back anymore. Every bounce makes her whimper, her thighs clapping down against yours, sweat glistening along the curve of her spine. Her tits sway with every frantic motion, her hands splayed on your chest as she fucks herself on your cock like she’s chasing something too big for her little body to hold.

“I—fuck—I’m close,” she gasps, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting back as her voice cracks on the confession. “So close—”

And god, hearing that, feeling how wet she’s gotten, how tight her pussy’s squeezing you like a vice, like she’s trying to hold you inside forever—it does something to you. The idea that she’s about to cum this fast, just from riding you, just from being watched and used and praised, carves itself into your memory. You know you'll use this to your advantage later.

You drag your hands up her sides, gripping her waist tight, halting her just enough to make her whimper in protest.

“Turn around,” you say. “I want to see that perfect ass swallowing my cock while you cum.”

Rei doesn’t hesitate. She bites her lip, nods quickly, and lifts herself off you with a breathless moan, your cock slipping free, drenched in her slick. She pivots around, her knees pressing to either side of your hips, her back now to your chest. She looks over her shoulder once, cheeks red, hair clinging to her damp skin, eyes glassy with submission.

And then she sinks back down.

You groan like you’re being pulled under water—her pussy splits around your cock again, tight and soaking, the new angle even more punishing. Her ass presses down against your pelvis, and fuck, it’s perfect. Juicy, round, the way it bounces with every move—it’s hypnotic. You can see everything now. The pink stretch of her cunt around you, the soft ring of her hole hugging your shaft like it was made for you. Every grind, every bounce, lets you watch her fuck herself open in real time.

“Holy fuck,” you hiss, hands grabbing handfuls of her hips as you push up into her. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Yujin lets out a low whistle from beside you. “Damn,” she says, kneeling behind her, eyes locked on the way Rei’s pussy grips your cock. “That ass is unreal.”

Then she slaps it. Hard.

Rei jolts, letting out a surprised cry, her whole body shaking from the impact. Yujin grins, slapping her again, the sound sharp, obscene.

“Faster,” she commands, dragging her nails across Rei’s back. “I said faster, slut. Don’t slow down now. You’re about to cum, right? Show him how desperate you are.”

Rei lets out a broken moan, hips snapping faster, the cheeks of her ass bouncing wildly now, jiggling with every impact. Her hands dig into your thighs for leverage, her body working like she’s chasing orgasm with everything she’s got. Yujin leans forward, grabbing a handful of her ass and spreading her open, just to get a better view of your cock slamming into her soaked pussy.

“This your place now, huh?” Yujin sneers, slapping her again. The mark blooms bright red on her pale cheek. “Still think you’re the bossy one? Still wanna call me names?” Her voice drops to a growl, filthy and dripping with delight. “Look at you now. Just a fucktoy, getting your pussy destroyed for our entertainment. Serving daddy like a good little cumdump.”

Rei cries out, her moans high-pitched, shaky, legs trembling as she grinds down hard, trying to stay on rhythm even as her body threatens to fold. “Y-yes—yes, this is my place—want to serve you—want to make you both feel good—”

You slap her other cheek, hard enough to make it bounce and match Yujin’s. “Then fucking keep going,” you growl, your hands now dragging her down, your cock driving up into her with every bounce. “You want to cum? Then show me. Ride me like you mean it.”

Rei’s pace turns frantic, desperate. Her moans turn to cries, sharp and breathless, her hands gripping your knees so tight her knuckles turn white. Yujin’s slaps don’t stop—quick, hard, alternating cheeks, making her ass bloom with bright handprints. Rei’s entire body shudders with each one, her moans rising in pitch.

“You’re so fucking close,” you say. “I can feel it. You’re choking my cock. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

“Daddy—oh god—fuck—I’m—”

You feel it—first in the subtle quiver of Rei’s thighs, then in the tightening of her pussy around your cock, pulsing rhythmically, almost pleading. Her pace falters for the first time, hips starting to stutter, her cries growing sharper, pitched higher with every bounce. You know that sound. That trembling, fragile edge of control that always shatters a second later. She's about to cum, and it's coming hard.

So you take over.

Your hands clamp down on her waist, dragging her down onto you harder, faster, each thrust slamming into her with force that makes her cry out, her nails digging into your thighs as she tries to brace herself. Her body rocks under the impact, spine arching as your cock pounds up into her, hitting that sweet, devastating spot over and over again.

"Fuck—fuck—he’s fucking me so hard!!" she screams, breathless and wild.

Yujin is right there behind her, her palm cracking against Rei’s already raw ass, loud and sharp. The mark deepens into a blazing red, the flesh bouncing with the blow. Rei howls, her voice breaking with the shock and pleasure. She can’t even stay upright anymore—her back arches, her body trembling like she’s about to break apart completely.

“Oh my god, she’s shaking,” Yujin laughs, breathless herself, her hand striking again, then again. “You’re gonna cum, huh? Gonna cream on his cock, you needy little bitch?” She grabs Rei’s hair, pulls her head back just enough to see her face—eyes fluttering, mouth open, cheeks flushed.

“Say it,” you growl, your hands moving now—spreading her ass open, wide, so you can watch everything. Her swollen pink pussy clenched tight around your cock, her slick dripping down your shaft and balls, and above that—her tight, twitching little asshole winking with every thrust.

The view is obscene. Filthy. Perfect.

Rei screams, her hands slamming against your legs for leverage, her whole body jolting. “I’m cumming—I’m fucking cumming—oh my god—DADDYYY!”

She falls forward with it, collapsing against your chest as her orgasm rips through her. Her pussy clenches violently, sucking at your cock like it’s trying to drain you, her body convulsing with each wave. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream, her breath caught, eyes rolling back as she trembles through it, completely undone. You hold her in place, grinding your cock deep inside, keeping her filled through every shake.

She’s so tight—too tight—and it nearly breaks you.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you growl, your hands clutching her ass, your hips still rolling up into her softly now, chasing that last spark of heat. “Get off. Now. Lie down.”

Rei shudders one last time, barely able to move, and Yujin helps her off your cock, your length sliding out wet and throbbing. A thick strand of cum and slick clings from her dripping pussy to your cockhead, and your hands are already guiding them both.

“On the bed,” you command. “Heads on the edge. Open those mouths.”

Yujin smirks, moving without hesitation, dragging Rei with her. The girls crawl across the bed, bodies flushed and glistening with sweat, their asses in the air, breasts pressing into the sheets. They lie on their stomachs side by side, faces turned up, heads hanging slightly off the mattress, mouths parting in perfect unison.

Your cock is throbbing, heavy and ready to blow. Their tongues stretch out instinctively, eyes full of eager heat.

You step in close, cock heavy and gleaming, inches from their waiting mouths, and you let it fall against Yujin’s lips first. She smiles without breaking eye contact, licking the tip slowly, deliberately, her tongue circling the crown before flicking up under the frenulum. That single motion almost makes your knees buckle. Her mouth is warm, practiced—she sucks the head in, sealing her lips around it so tight that you almost cum right there.

Then you shift, feeding more to her. She takes a few inches easily, sucking hard enough to make your thighs tense, tongue teasing every ridge and vein as you begin to fuck slowly into her mouth. Wet, obscene sounds rise up between her lips and your cock—every time you push deeper, her throat hums around you, moaning softly like she needs it, like this is how she says thank you.

But it’s Rei who stuns you next.

When you pull from Yujin’s mouth with a soft pop, a thin strand of spit clinging to your tip, Rei tilts her chin higher, holding her mouth open like a good little slut, and you slide in—slow at first, watching the stretch of her lips around your girth, her lashes fluttering as the head pushes over her tongue, then deeper. She doesn’t stop you. She doesn’t flinch.

She swallows everything.

“Fuck—Rei,” you groan, hands gripping her jaw, guiding the pace now as her throat opens and her lips press flush against your base. “You just took it all, huh?”

Her answer is a wet gag and a shiver that rolls down her spine—but she doesn’t pull back. You feel her throat clench, a tremble passing through her whole body, and she moans around your cock, gurgling softly. Her nose is against your pelvis, her lips stretched around you, and it’s all too fucking much.

You start to fuck her throat properly now, pulling back an inch or two before driving back in, over and over, your cock disappearing down her tight, hot throat while Yujin strokes herself beside her, moaning softly as she watches.

“Look at her,” Yujin purrs, reaching out to brush hair back from Rei’s face. “So eager now. You were such a brat earlier, but this? This is your place. Swallowing cock for us. And you’re so fucking good at it.”

Rei moans in response, her eyes fluttering shut as her cheeks hollow. You pull back and slide into Yujin again without warning, and she groans around you, sucking you deep immediately, hands on your thighs for balance, throat flexing as you push deeper. Then Rei is back—she kisses and licks your shaft while Yujin’s mouth works your head, dragging her tongue up your length, kissing your balls, moaning like she’s addicted to your taste.

Each girl begs in her own way. Yujin pulls off just long enough to whisper, “Give it to us, babe. Cover our faces. I want to feel you dripping down my chin.” Then her mouth is back on you.

Rei strokes your shaft when she can, kissing the base, whispering, “Cum for me, daddy. Paint me. I want to wear it.” Her mouth finds your tip again, sloppy and desperate, sucking with the kind of pressure that makes your spine curve.

You can’t hold it anymore.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you growl, pulling out of Rei’s mouth with a wet sound. She gasps for air, mouth still open, tongue hanging, eyes wide.

You grip your cock, jerking it fast, tight strokes from base to tip as both girls hold their mouths open, faces tilted up, tongues out, waiting. Their eyes are locked on your hand, then on the head of your cock, and they’re moaning in sync—Yujin panting, Rei whispering “please, please, please—”

And then you explode.

Your cock pulses violently in your fist and thick ropes of cum launch from the tip, hot and heavy, splattering across their faces in long white streaks. Rei flinches as the first shot hits her cheek, then moans when the next hits her lips, dripping down her chin. Yujin gets a thick stream across her nose and mouth, a few drops painting her cheek and lashes. They both gasp, letting it hit them, worship them, mark them.

You keep stroking through it, more spurting out, your thighs trembling as you finally empty yourself, painting them both in messy, dripping ropes. It drips from Rei’s chin onto her breasts, rolls down Yujin’s cheek and pools at her collarbone.

The silence that follows is a different kind of intimate—no rush, no frenzy—just breathless stillness and bodies pressed close. You watch them breathe, watch their chests rise and fall in sync, the flush slowly fading from their cheeks as the afterglow settles in.

Yujin moves first.

With a slow, almost tender touch, she reaches for Rei, brushing her thumb across the corner of her mouth where a thick drop of your release clings. She scoops it gently and brings it to her lips, sucking it clean, eyes locked on Rei’s. “Messy girl,” she murmurs with a faint smirk, but there’s affection underneath it.

Rei doesn’t look away. She shifts forward, mirroring the gesture, her fingers curling under Yujin’s jaw as she leans in and slowly licks a thick smear of cum off Yujin’s cheek. It’s unhurried, like she’s savoring it, letting her tongue drag deliberately slow before pulling back with a faint moan. “You taste like him,” she whispers, almost in awe, then grins. “Kinda addictive.”

You slide down beside them, your body still pulsing faintly with the remnants of your climax, and lean back against the headboard. They press in on either side, warm and soft, naked and smeared with your cum. The room smells like sweat and sex and skin. You wrap an arm around each of them, fingers threading through theirs, grounding yourself in this closeness.

Yujin tilts her head against your shoulder, her voice lower now, that teasing edge replaced with something quieter. “So?” she asks, eyes half-lidded as she turns to look at you. “Now that you’re not fucking the soul out of one of us… what did you think? Be honest.”

You smile. You can’t help it—it stretches wide across your face, a lazy, completely satisfied grin. “It was amazing,” you say. “Really. I mean it.” You turn toward Yujin, squeeze her hand gently. “Thank you. For planning this. For bringing her. For knowing exactly what I needed when I didn’t even ask.”

Yujin blushes a little, like she wasn’t expecting you to get soft, but she leans in and kisses your shoulder. “You earned it,” she murmurs. “Two months waiting? You deserved more than just me on your lap for a week.”

Then you look to Rei. Her eyes are shining, lips parted like she’s trying to figure out what to say, what she’s supposed to feel right now. You reach over and take her hand, intertwining your fingers.

“And thank you,” you say, quieter now, more deliberate. “For trusting us. For being here, like this. You didn’t have to say yes. But you did.”

Rei’s eyes flicker, then she nods slowly. “I was nervous,” she admits. “At first. But… it feels right. Being here with you both. Like I’m not just watching, I’m part of something.”

“You are,” Yujin says immediately, reaching over to run a finger down her arm. “You are part of it. And you’re not getting rid of us now, so…”

You laugh, and the sound cuts through the lingering haze, lifting the tension just enough. You squeeze both their hands, looking between them. “This week’s going to be unforgettable.”

Rei smiles, glowing now, more open than you’ve ever seen her. “So what do we do now?” she asks, almost shyly.

Yujin stretches, yawning a little, her body arching beautifully as she slides off the bed. “We shower,” she says. “We’re sticky, we smell like sex, and the bed looks like someone got waterboarded with cum.”

Rei giggles, burying her face in your neck for a moment before pulling back. “Gross. True. But gross.”

Yujin turns toward the bathroom, looking back over her shoulder. “Come on. We clean up, then we crawl back into that bed and cuddle properly. I want to fall asleep between my two favorite people.”

Rei rises to her knees, stretching out her back with a soft moan. “And maybe we do it all again later.”

Yujin smirks. “Oh, baby. That’s a guarantee.”

And just like that, the three of you slip off the bed, bare skin brushing, fingers still tangled, limbs overlapping as you stumble toward the bathroom. Together.

—

The house transforms. After the first night as a chaotic threesome—the tangled limbs, the cum-soaked sheets, the three of you curled into one another like some beautiful, breathless tangle of heat and trust—something shifts. It’s not a fling anymore, not just a wild vacation. It becomes a rhythm. A dynamic. An unspoken contract that every glance, every obedient gesture, every parted mouth affirms.

The mornings start slow, but never soft. Rei’s the first to rise most days, slipping from the bed on quiet feet only to crawl back between your thighs, warm mouth sealing over your cock before you’ve even opened your eyes. She worships you in silence, gentle kisses and long, wet licks, until you’re hard in her throat and groaning into the pillows. Some mornings, you pull her up by her hair and fuck her mouth while Yujin wakes to the sounds of her little toy gagging on your cock. Other mornings, Yujin pulls Rei into her lap, rubbing slow circles on her clit while you slide inside her from behind, fucking her while she’s still half-asleep, her head buried in Yujin’s chest, moaning softly.

The rules become natural. No one speaks them aloud, but they’re etched in the way Rei drops her eyes when you approach, the way Yujin spreads her legs for you with a smirk that dares you to make her beg. You tell them what to do, when to open, when to kneel, when to cum (and when not to). And they obey. Not because they have to, but because they want to.

You fuck them everywhere.

The kitchen island becomes a favorite: cold marble on their bellies, their knees hooked over the edge, their cheeks flush with exertion as you alternate between them, cock slick with both their juices, slapping against their asses before slamming back inside. Yujin’s louder there, moaning openly as she gets filled, one hand clutching Rei’s hair as she holds her in place beside her, their lips brushing as they pant through it together. Rei’s frame bounces with every thrust, whimpering when you grab her hips and whisper how tight her little cunt is, how easy it is to ruin her.

The living room couch isn’t spared. One afternoon, fire roaring, snow falling lazily outside the wide glass windows. Rei on her knees, mouth wide, tears dripping off her chin as you fuck her throat, one hand buried in her hair, the other holding Yujin’s leg up as you finger her slow, deep, denying her the orgasm she’s clawing toward.

“You don’t cum until I say,” you murmured, lips brushing her ear. She sobbed in frustration, her slick soaking your hand, thighs trembling, but she nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

You used your belt that night. Their wrists bound, their asses striped with marks. Yujin counted out every hit with a moan, each number slurred between her gasps. Rei sobbed and whimpered but never begged you to stop—she just pushed her hips higher, her soaked thighs glistening as the red marks bloomed bright across her pale skin.

And they loved it.

“Thank you,” Rei whispered after, her eyes wet but not from pain. “Thank you for putting me in my place.”

You kissed her then. You always did after.

The hot spring was used more at night, when the steam clung thick to the air and the cold wind made every movement outside the water a delicious shock. One night, you made Rei cum three times in a row, her pussy so swollen and sensitive she begged you to stop, even as her hips chased your fingers. You held her down, whispering praise and filth into her ear, while Yujin sat beside you, masturbating lazily, watching her lovely friend fall apart with a smirk on her lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured. “But this pussy’s still fucking greedy, isn’t it?”

Rei only nodded, eyes rolling back as another orgasm tore through her.

Other nights, you took Yujin to the edge and held her there—fingers deep inside her, tongue dragging slow circles over her clit, stopping just as her thighs locked around your head. She cursed you, clawed at your hair, begged and pleaded.

“You’ll cum when I say,” you reminded her, wiping her slick off your lips and making her taste it on your tongue.

The hot spring became your throne. Yujin on your lap, straddling you, bouncing on your cock slowly while Rei knelt on the edge, watching, touching herself, waiting her turn. You pulled Rei in after, making her ride your face while Yujin kissed your neck, her breasts pressed to your chest, still grinding down onto your lap, still greedy for more.

But it wasn’t just the sex.

There were quiet moments too. Evenings where you cooked together, Rei sitting on the counter, legs swinging, still wearing your hoodie and nothing else. Yujin behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, her cheek on your back, humming while the pasta boiled. Long hikes once the snow melted, bundled in coats and scarves, holding hands, stealing kisses behind trees. You stopped to take photos of them—Rei leaning into Yujin, Yujin’s head tilted, a grin tugging at her lips.

And always, at night, you ended up back in the same bed. Sometimes naked and aching. Sometimes just wrapped around each other, warm under the covers, their breathing soft and even as they slept against your chest. Rei tucked against your side, Yujin draped over your stomach, your arms around both of them. Safe. Close.

One night, as the fire crackled low and the sky outside darkened to a violet hush, Rei whispered, “I don’t want this to end.”

Yujin didn’t say anything, just reached for your hand under the blanket and held it tight.

Yeah. Neither did you.

—

The snow melts in pieces.

At first, it’s subtle; just a softening at the edges of the deck where the heat of the hot spring spills over. Then the air starts to change. Less bite, more breath. The icicles drip, slow and steady, and patches of green appear between the stone steps leading from the house to the trees. What once was a white-blanketed silence becomes a landscape of new possibilities: thawed trails, streams trickling with cold meltwater, sunlight dappling through the trees as if the forest was waking up with you.

You take them outside often, now that the world’s no longer buried in frost. The hikes stretch longer. Mornings start with Rei bouncing against your chest as you fuck her up against the side of a pine, her hoodie bunched up under her arms, her bare ass slapping against your thighs while Yujin watches with her hands in her panties, panting, whispering encouragement.

Afternoons are for sunlit fucking in the grass, knees pressing into soft earth, their mouths full of your cock while the trees sway above. You remember one particular moment: Rei straddling your lap in a clearing, her cunt dripping onto your cock before you even sank in. She rode you like she was trying to leave marks on your pelvis, while Yujin kissed her neck from behind, whispering “Good girl. That’s it. Take daddy’s cock like you need it.”

And she did. Every damn time.

The deck becomes another playground. With the snow receded, it’s all open space now—warm planks under your feet, bodies glistening in the sunlight, the girls naked and on their knees in the late afternoon glow. You use them however you want. Rei lies across your lap, ass red from your belt, moaning into Yujin’s pussy while you fuck her mouth. You deny Yujin again that night, teasing her over the edge four times in a row until she’s crying from frustration, her body trembling, begging, telling you she’ll do anything

And you still make her wait until the next morning.

They thrive in their roles. Not just the sex, but the trust in it. The clarity. The pure, unshakable knowing that they are yours, and that you take care of what’s yours. You fuck them with dominance, punish them with intention, reward them with care. You spoil them when it’s earned, and you’re cruel when it’s needed. Yujin leans into your hand when you pet her hair. Rei practically melts every time you whisper 'good girl'. You tuck them in at night like they’re precious. Because they are.

The house becomes a memory before it even ends. The walls feel like they’re made of more than wood now. Every room has a story. The kitchen tile still bears the faint mark where Rei’s knees pressed while you came on her tongue. The windows fogged over during Yujin’s first denied orgasm. The hot spring bubbled around your waist as both their mouths worked your cock in tandem under the stars.

And then it’s the last day.

You wake before them. Habit, maybe. The bed is warm, the sheets tangled with limbs and the scent of skin. Rei’s cheek is on your chest, Yujin curled along your side, her arm draped across your stomach. You lie there, just watching the ceiling, your hand stroking Rei’s back in lazy circles, feeling the weight of time pressing in from the edges. There’s no more food in the fridge. The towels are already packed. The silence is heavy.

Eventually, you shift, brushing hair from their faces, and they both wake slowly—blinking, stretching, sighing into your skin.

Yujin kisses your jaw. “Is it really the last day?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “We should start packing.”

No one moves for a long time.

When you finally do, it’s slow, unhurried. Rei sits on the edge of the bed in your shirt, staring out at the mountain view one last time. Yujin folds clothes with robotic precision. You zip up the suitcase and pause before closing it, staring at the belt coiled neatly inside.

The hike back down the trail feels different. The thrill of arrival is replaced by a quiet reluctance, the damp earth breathing a soft scent of pine and thawing soil where crisp snow crunched just days ago. Rei walks between you and Yujin, her hand tucked firmly in yours, Yujin’s on your other side, occasionally bumping her shoulder against yours. The silence isn't awkward, just... full. Heavy with memories made, unspoken emotions, and the lingering heat of that last night, that last morning fuck that left you all tangled and blissed out until the absolute last second.

Loading the car in the small clearing feels anticlimactic after the grandeur of the house. You slide into the driver’s seat, the familiar smell of the car—leather and lingering coffee—a stark contrast to the house’s cedarwood and sex musk. Yujin takes shotgun, immediately fiddling with the music, searching for something mellow. Rei curls up in the back, pulling Yujin’s discarded travel jacket over herself like a blanket, tucking her feet up onto the seat.

The drive starts slow, bumping back down the gravel track onto smoother pavement. Mountains recede in the rearview mirror, replaced by rolling hills, then farmland, then the first hints of approaching civilization. Sunlight streams through the windshield, warming your face. Maybe it's the warmth, maybe it's the comfortable silence stretching a little too long, but a thought that's been nagging at the back of your mind surfaces. You glance over at Yujin, then catch Rei’s eye in the mirror.

"So..." you start, trying to sound casual, one hand steady on the wheel. "Week was... okay? For you guys?"

Yujin turns down the music slightly, giving you a sideways look, eyebrow arched. "Okay? Seriously? After that?" She gestures vaguely, encompassing the entire insane, intense week. "What brought this on?"

You shrug, feeling a little awkward now you've voiced it. "I dunno. Just thinking back." You grip the wheel a bit tighter. "Was I... too much? Sometimes?" You glance in the mirror again, meeting Rei’s wide eyes. "Like, uh... the belt that night? Or keeping you waiting, Yujin? Making Rei ride me till she basically passed out?" A flush creeps up your neck. "Maybe I got carried away. Just wanted to make sure... you know. It was good. Not just... rough."

Yujin bursts out laughing. She twists in her seat, elbow resting on the center console, leaning towards you. "Babe," she says. "Did you miss the part where we basically signed up for exactly that? Where Rei practically glowed when I told her she was the 'reward'?" She shakes her head, still chuckling. "Overdo it? You gave us exactly what we didn't even know how badly we needed. Don't go getting all insecure on us now."

From the back seat, Rei leans forward quickly, sliding between the front seats, her expression earnest. "No! He's right, Unnie, don't laugh!" she insists, though a small smile plays on her lips. She looks directly at you, her gaze surprisingly steady now. "It wasn't too much. Not at all." Her cheeks color slightly, a familiar pretty pink. "Honestly? I... I loved it."

She takes a breath, seemingly gathering her thoughts. "It was... intense, yeah. Sometimes it hurt, like the belt. And sometimes..." she trails off, glancing away for a second before meeting your eyes again, "...sometimes when you were fucking my throat, I thought I might actually pass out. But..." Her tone drops slightly, becoming more intimate. "It wasn't just rough. Not ever. Even when you were being... demanding... or cruel..." She searches for the right words. "I never felt scared. Or unsafe. I felt... seen."

She gestures vaguely towards herself. "Like, you saw the part of me that wanted that. The part that liked being told what to do, liked being pushed, liked... feeling like a toy, maybe?" Her blush deepens, but she doesn't look away. "But you always took care of us afterwards. The kisses, the cuddles, the way you'd just hold us..." She shrugs, a small, vulnerable movement. "It made the hard parts... worth it. More than worth it. It made me feel... cherished, even while you were leaving marks on my ass." A tiny, self-conscious laugh escapes her. "Does that sound crazy?"

"No," you say immediately, reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder where she's leaning between the seats. "Not crazy at all. Makes perfect sense."

Yujin nods emphatically beside you, her expression softening as she looks at Rei. "She's right. You nailed the balance, baby." She reaches over, taking your free hand from the wheel, intertwining her fingers with yours on the center console. "You knew exactly when to push, when to praise, when to punish, and when to just... hold us. That's not easy. That's... rare." She brings your joined hands up, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "And honestly? Bringing Rei?" She grins, glancing back at the her. "Best fucking idea I ever had. Watching you two together... the way she looked at you, the way you handled her... pure magic." She winks. "Definitely got me off more than once just watching."

Rei playfully swats Yujin's arm, though her eyes are shining. She stays leaning between the seats, after a moment of comfortable silence, punctuated only by the hum of the tires, Rei speaks again, hesitant this time

"So... um... do you think..." She clears her throat, looking from you to Yujin and back again. "Could we... maybe... do this again sometime? Like, another trip?"

Yujin answers instantly, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, hell yes. In a heartbeat." She squeezes your hand tighter. "Same house, if we can get it. Or maybe a different but equally isolated place, who knows? Definitely same rules... maybe even some new rules?" She raises a suggestive eyebrow. "Definitely same people. And next time? We stay longer. A week wasn't nearly enough."

You turn your head slightly, catching Rei’s hopeful gaze.

"You'd really want to come again, Rei?" you ask softly. "Seriously? After everything? The throatfucking? The denials? Making you lick Yujin clean?"

Rei doesn't even blush this time. A slow, wicked smirk spreads across her face, transforming her expression from sweet ingenue to knowing participant. It’s ridiculously hot.

"Especially after everything you put me through," she replies, her tone steady. "Try and stop me."

Yujin laughs, delighted. "See? Told you she was hooked." She leans back in her seat, already brainstorming. "Okay, so next time... maybe we explore denial a bit more? For both of us?" She glances at you slyly. "See how long you can make us wait? How much we'll beg?"

Rei nods eagerly. "Ooh, yes! And maybe... maybe some outfits? Like, actual maid outfits? Or collars?" Her eyes sparkle with ideas. "And maybe... could you tie me up? Properly? Like, spread-eagled on the bed?"

"Baby steps, princess," Yujin chuckles. "But I like where your head's at. Collars are definitely happening. Maybe leashes?"

"Okay, okay," you interrupt, laughing, though the ideas are definitely sparking something low in your gut. "Let's get back to the city first before we plan the next round of debauchery." You steer the conversation slightly. "But yeah. Another trip sounds... essential."

They start chattering excitedly, bouncing ideas off each other: different locations, maybe a beach house next time, incorporating public play dares, exploring different dynamics, maybe Yujin dominating Rei more explicitly under your direction. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter, suggestive touches, and shared glances in the rearview mirror that hold promises of filthier, more twisted adventures to come. The melancholy of leaving fades… Now there’s the certainty that this incredible, intense connection you've forged isn't ending here.

It's just taking a breath before diving even deeper.

[mintyys-blog]

pls all i’ve been thinking about is soft!dark viltrumite mark coming to the realisation ominman did when he said “i think i miss my wife.” maybe reader leaves him after his behaviour and that’s when he realises. i just know you’ll write it so good!! :))

GONE | viltrumite mark x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: implied kidnapping

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

At first, Mark thought he was doing the right thing.

He didn’t ask you to stay by his side after the war, after Earth’s submission. He allowed it. He permitted you to live, to love him, to have a place in his new world. You didn’t need to understand his choices. You just needed to accept them — the way he accepted your fear, your silence, your trembling hands when you thought he wasn’t looking.

It was for the best, he told himself. You were fragile, like all humans. You needed to be protected, controlled, managed. You were his.

And for a long time, he lived in the delusion that that was enough.

Until one morning, you were gone. Not stolen. Not taken by force. Not dead. Gone.

He found your favorite mug still drying on the counter. Your scent lingered on the pillow. A single sweater draped over the back of the couch like you’d almost forgotten it.

You had packed lightly. Carefully. You had planned it.

When he realized that — that you had been quietly, painstakingly plotting your escape right under his nose — something inside him cracked.

He searched for you, of course. Days, then weeks, raging across continents and skies, shaking down entire cities, worlds, civilizations. If he had to crack the planet open to find you, he would.

But somehow, no matter how strong he was, you always stayed just out of reach. Like smoke slipping through his fingers.

And that’s when it happened. He stood alone in the empty ruin of what used to be your shared home.

The front door hung crooked on its hinges, swinging slightly every time the cold wind pushed through. The floors, once warm beneath your bare feet, were warped and cracked now, groaning under his heavy steps. Paint peeled from the walls in long, sickly strips, curling like dead leaves. Dust floated in the air, catching in the late afternoon light — thick enough that every breath tasted like ash and regret.

The kitchen was the worst.

The place where you used to dance barefoot while cooking, laughing at your own terrible jokes — now nothing more than broken glass and sagging cabinets. Your favorite mug, the one he had secretly glued back together a dozen times because you refused to throw it away, lay shattered in the sink.

He reached out, almost without thinking, and brushed his fingers against the edge of the counter where you used to sit in the mornings, swinging your legs and humming under your breath.

Your warmth wasn’t here anymore. Not even the ghost of it.

Only the heavy, rotting scent of time passing without you.

Mark’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the old floorboards creaking under the pressure of his restraint. His chest ached in a way he didn’t recognize — deep, hollow, desperate.

He had faced wars, rebellions, betrayals. He had broken civilizations that dared to defy him. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

But here, in the ruin of the life he had destroyed with his own hands, there was no enemy left to fight. Only himself.

The words slipped out before he even realized he was speaking: “I think… I miss my wife.” The words tasted foreign in his mouth. They shouldn’t have been possible — he was Viltrumite. He didn’t need anyone.

But the truth was cruel and heavy: You weren’t an accessory. You weren’t an obligation. You weren’t a pet he could keep in a gilded cage.

You were everything. And without you, the universe he conquered tasted like ash.

He realized then, with a kind of hollow horror, that in trying to possess you, he had driven you away.

And worse — that you might never forgive him enough to come back.

He could raze cities, topple worlds, break every bone in his body fighting for your return. But none of it could force you to love him again. Mark — for the first time in his life — understood what it meant to lose.

[cuntyji]

LOVE IS A FOUR LETTER TUG ‪‪❤︎‬ RYOMEN SUKUNA X FEMALE READER

Synopsis: They say fate works in mysterious ways, but no one ever mentioned it could be petty, nosy, and just a little bit theatrical. Tethered by something neither of them asked for, two very tired people must now navigate a world where privacy is a myth, insults are practically foreplay, and the universe apparently thinks it’s hilarious. There’s no guidebook for this sort of thing — just a suspiciously persistent string and the overwhelming urge to win every argument, even if no one remembers what it was about. After all, love might be written in the stars… but this story? It’s scribbled in crayon and aggressively underlined in red.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, fluff with crack, red string theory with possible inaccuracies (this is my interpretation of it), (mentioned) yuuji, nanami, choso, geto, gojo, uraume but they're a cat (they/it pronouns), office worker! sukuna and reader, modern au, implied reincarnation/lovers in every lifetime trope

Note: red string art by vidhic0re on pinterest, red divider by enchanthings

‪‪✶⋆.˚ Ao3

You were never one for romance clichés.

Soulmates? Sounded like a scam from a desperate deity with too much time on their hands.

Fated love? Cute, if you're into spiritual tax fraud.

Red thread of fate? Sounded like something a drunk poet made up while tangled in yarn.

You’d entertained the idea once or twice — late at night, probably during your fifth rewatch of a trashy show, tears pricking at your eyes as two characters found each other across continents. Then the next morning, you’d stub your toe on the coffee table and remember that your only soulmate was pain and poor impulse control.

So you can’t really be blamed for not noticing it happening now.

Not with the humid press of bodies in the metro car, the stale air thick with too many armpits and not enough personal space. Your headphones had long since died, your patience hanging on by the fraying thread of your tolerance for humanity. And then —

Snag.

“—You fucking kidding me?”

You jerk around, already tensing for a fight. A man stands before you — or rather towers, broad-shouldered, impossibly tall, and stupidly pink-haired. Like, offensively pink. His eyes are sharp, crimson, and burning with indignation. Tattoos coil down his arms like they’ve got somewhere to be.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he’s already hissing, tugging at his shirt. Your watch, of course, is gloriously embedded in the fabric near his waistline. Because God, or fate, is an asshole.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, dickhead,” you snap, trying to free yourself without causing a striptease. “If you hadn’t shoved your way in here like you own the place—”

“Shoved?! You clung onto me like I’m your long-lost sugar daddy—”

“Please, you couldn’t afford me.”

He bares his teeth, and for a second you think he might just eat your soul for fun.

You yank. He yanks harder. Somewhere, a sleeve audibly tears. A grandma beside you makes the sign of the cross.

“Stop moving!” you shout.

“Then stop yanking like a rabid raccoon!”

And just beneath the chaos, something else stirs.

Delicate. Quiet. Crimson.

A thin, glowing thread coils out from the fabric of reality — slow, curious — like it’s stretching from an ancient nap. It slinks around your pinky like a cat testing warmth, then tugs itself toward his hand. Wraps, binds. Neither of you notice, too busy trying to kill each other with passive-aggressive tugs and very active-aggressive insults.

“Jesus Christ, your shirt’s made of velcro or what?”

“Maybe your watch is cursed. Did you rob a priest?”

“Why are your abs out—”

“Why are you looking at them—”

You both freeze.

Your faces are this close. Breath shared. You can see the specks of gold in his eyes. He can smell the faint shampoo in your hair. The train jostles again, and your bodies bump together, awkward and too warm. He blinks. You blink.

And that little red thread? It pulses once. Content. Smug, even.

It had only been a few minutes, but it felt like years. Years of verbal sparring, the kind that leaves mental bite marks and a permanent twitch in your eye. Years packed into that hellish metro ride — the suffocating crowd, the friction of bodies, and the absolutely unholy closeness of you and Sukuna, the pink-haired plague on your peace.

It was a symphony of irritation: your bickering crescendoed, echoing off the glass, punctuated by the occasional dramatic gasp (yours, because how dare he bring your mother into this?) and a startlingly feral hiss (his — honestly, who hisses like that? You still weren’t over it).

“Your mom should’ve taught you how to dress like a functional adult,” Sukuna had scoffed, voice sharp enough to pierce through metal.

“And your dentist should’ve filed down your fangs, Edward Cullen,” you’d snapped back, right before his pupils dilated like you’d just told him Santa Claus wasn’t real. He looked like he was ready to bite you. Like literally bite you. You wondered, not for the first time, if he was just feral or if the metro air made people feral.

And then — click.

Freedom.

Your watch finally popped loose from his clothes, the poor thing traumatized but intact. You both immediately fled to opposite doors like bitter divorcees pretending they didn’t share a Netflix password.

“I hope the next time we meet, I’m deaf,” you shouted across the train.

“I hope the next time we meet, you’ve been replaced by a potted plant — it’d have more brains,” he snarled.

You both stomped off the train at your stop, muttering curses like two gremlins banished from the underworld. Behind you, the invisible red thread simply stretched further, smug and undisturbed, lengthening itself like some magical slinky that refused to be cut. It trailed behind you both like the worst kind of cosmic joke, blissfully unaware that you were both one wrong word away from starting an actual fistfight in the middle of the platform.

After what felt like an entire saga of mentally cussing him out, climbing three flights of stairs because the lift was always slow, and mentally filing an angry complaint to the universe, you finally reached your apartment door. Peace at last.

Well, almost.

You turned toward the elevator, digging through your bag for your keys, and there he was.

There. He. Was.

Leaning casually against the elevator doors like a shampoo commercial gone wrong, arms crossed, pink hair gleaming under the shitty hallway lights, and that same smug little curve on his lips like the universe had just handed him your misery on a silver platter.

You blinked. 

He blinked back, slower, smugger.

“...Are you stalking me?” you asked, flatly, because honestly, at this point, what else could this be? He barked out a laugh, loud and sharp. “You wish. I’m moving in.”

You stared at him. Your brain short-circuited. Your soul left your body and came back just to kick you in the shin.

“What.”

“New tenant,” he said with a little wave. “Landlady said the floor had good lighting. Guess she forgot to mention the infestation.”

“Infest—infestation?!” You nearly dropped your keys. “I hope you fall down the stairs and land teeth-first.”

“I hope your kettle explodes next time you try to make tea, dumbass.”

You both glared — the kind of glare that had probably made old gods weep and babies cry. Somewhere, the elevator dinged softly, its doors opening to welcome one (1) petty pink-haired menace and one (1) emotionally done human.

You both stepped in without looking at each other. The red string followed, still wrapped around your little fingers, stretching gently behind you both — a silent, glowing third wheel that refused to take a hint.

Fuck your life. And fuck fate too, while you were at it.

You really, really thought the next morning would be better.

After the disaster that was yesterday — the metro, the snarling pink-haired gremlin, the revelation that said gremlin lived on your floor, and the fact that you now had to cohabitate oxygen with him — you’d gone to bed with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that promised at least one thing would go right the next day. Just one. Just a sliver of peace, maybe, a moment of normalcy to prove that the universe wasn’t actively putting you on a hit list.

But hah. Nope.

Because you open the front door, step into the hallway in your slightly wrinkled work clothes, clutching the little baggie of food like a knight bearing gifts, and there he is.

Kneeling beside the apartment building’s most beloved freeloader — the white stray Uraume who ruled your collective lives with an iron paw and a fluffy tail — is Sukuna. Hair slightly damp like he just got out of the shower, wearing the kind of shirt that looks like it was bought solely to be hated, crouched down with a tin of wet food in his hands, and smiling.

Smiling. At Uraume, of all things.

Not at you. God no. His smiles for you usually look like they come with optional knives.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you blurt out, the cat food bag crinkling in your hand like even it is alarmed.

“Feeding the cat,” he replies without looking up, his tone smug, too casual, too comfortable. “What does it look like?”“It looks like you’re encroaching on sacred territory,” you snap, stomping closer like you’re about to perform an exorcism. “It’s Wednesday. My day.”

“They don’t know days,” Sukuna shrugs. “It’s a cat. They don’t give a shit if it’s Wednesday or the apocalypse.”

Uraume, for their part, is sprawled between you two like a tiny fluffy deity watching its mortal worshippers squabble, eyes half-lidded, tail flicking lazily as if amused by the sheer idiocy in front of them.

“They know me,” you insist, pointing an accusatory finger. “I bring them tuna. They purr for me.”

“They just purred for me,” Sukuna says smugly, leaning down to stroke their belly. They stretch like royalty, perfectly content. “Face it. They like me better.”

“They tolerate you,” you sneer, crouching down too, now both of you on either side of this indifferent god, cat food containers in hand like offerings in a duel. “Also, why are you using that cheap-ass brand? Uraume’s got a refined palate.”

“You feed a stray like they’re your tax-dependent,” he scoffs. “No wonder it acts like a brat.”

“Uraume is royalty.”

“Uraume has fleas.”

“So do you, probably.”

Uraume chooses this moment to pounce — not on either of you, but at the air just in front of them. They bat at something, paws swiping with focused glee, and you blink.

“...Is she high?” Sukuna mutters, watching as the cat wiggles their butt, springs, and lands on a very specific patch of empty hallway.

“Zoomies,” you say, though you’re not entirely sure. “They do that sometimes.”

Uraume keeps chasing something you can’t see — something red, something delicate, something that dances just ahead of their claws, curling through the air between the two of you. Something threadlike, and taut, and glowing — though not to your eyes. You both just keep bickering, oblivious.

“Seriously though, can’t you go menace someone else?” you grumble, finally standing and dusting off your knees.

“Can’t you find a new hallway?” he shoots back. “This one’s mine now.”

“God, you’re like a mold infestation.”

“And you’re like the stain on a public toilet seat.”

There’s a pause. Uraume is now gently gnawing on the air between your hands, satisfied. You look down. You look up. 

And, with a sigh, you finally mutter, “...What’s your name, anyway?”

He looks vaguely surprised, then smirks. “Sukuna. And yours?”

“Why? Gonna hex me with it?”

“Can’t hex someone without a name. Now cough it up.”

You tell him. He repeats it, rolling it around his mouth like he’s testing how annoying he can make it sound later. “Figures,” he says, straightening up. “Your name sounds like it comes with unsolicited opinions and a constant need to be right.”

“Your name sounds like a rejection email from a demon,” you fire back.

Uraume sneezes. The red string flickers, coils tighter. 

And neither of you still have any goddamn idea.

Despite your better judgment — and trust, it really was against every instinct for self-preservation that you had — you were starting to accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Sukuna wasn’t entirely the worst.

Not that he was good. No, you would never say that. If anyone ever dared to suggest that Sukuna had an ounce of decency in his entire six-foot-something frame of walking rage, you would probably burst out laughing and then list ten reasons why they should be on a watchlist. You were just… developing the world’s strongest tolerance, like some psychological cockroach capable of surviving nuclear-grade assholery. Yeah, that had to be it.

Because there was no way that Sukuna was a good person.

Not when he once looked old man Nanami in the eye — the sweetest, politest senior citizen in your apartment complex, the one who offered you coconut cookies every Thursday — and said, with no hesitation, "If your grandkid doesn’t shut up by 10 p.m., I’m gonna eat him. Protein is protein."

You were there.

You saw Mr. Nanami’s soul briefly leave his body while clutching little Yuuji, who was just trying to learn how to walk and scream at the same time. You were genuinely surprised Sukuna wasn’t served legal papers the next morning. (You think the only reason Nanami didn’t call the cops is because he didn’t know how to explain ‘My upstairs neighbor threatened to eat my toddler with his whole chest’ without sounding like he was the unhinged one.)

And it wasn’t just the elderly and the infants. Sukuna’s temper was democratic — he picked fights like they were his cardio. Someone sighs too loud? Fight. Someone stands too close in the elevator? Fight. Someone dares to exist within a five-meter radius while also having a smug aura? That was instant fucking fight. You’d honestly gotten used to hearing vague yelling down the hall and not reacting until someone used your name. That was the protocol.

But then there was Gojo.

White-haired menace. Lives somewhere close enough that the chaos occasionally spilled into your airspace. Visits Geto every few days, usually late at night, wearing clothes that screamed "I think rules are suggestions" and a smile that could probably trigger a lawsuit.

And every. single. time. Gojo entered your building, it was like watching two angry cats lock eyes across the hallway. Hissing. Posturing. Threats that sounded like they were ripped out of a trashy sitcom. Once, you woke up at three a.m. to actual growling outside your door.

“For fuck’s sake,” you’d yelled, groggily throwing it open, “Go home or kiss already!”

Both of them had frozen mid-snarl, their hands halfway to each other’s throats.

“Shut up, we’re not into each other!” they barked at you in perfect unison, like that wasn’t the most suspicious thing they could have said.But here was the kicker: he was never like that with you.

Oh, he was still rude. He called your music taste garbage at least twice a week and once accused your bathroom cleaner of smelling like a rotting lemon corpse. But he didn’t fight you. Not like that. Instead, he held elevator doors open with his back against the buttons like it was nothing, barely even glancing at you as you skidded across the floor with your laptop bag flapping behind you like a dying bird.

“You always run like the building’s on fire,” he’d mutter.

“Maybe I’m trying to escape your energy,” you’d shoot back, breathless.

He always told the trash guys to wait when you were sprinting down the stairs with two bags of waste in hand — one dry, one wet, both swinging dangerously. He’d lean against the rail and bark, “Oi, she’s coming,” before casually flicking his cigarette and watching you descend like a chaotic meteor of domestic failure.

“I could’ve managed,” you once grumbled, tossing the bags in as the garbage truck revved.

“You would’ve tripped and died. Then I’d have to feed your cat.”

“Uraume’s not even mine.”

“Then why does it hiss when I call them my cat?”

Touché.

He wasn't nice. He wasn't.

Not to other people. And not in a way that made it easy to like him. But maybe he was conveniently decent to you.

Probably because he wanted a favor someday. Or he was playing the long game. 

Or maybe it was just that he found your chaos mildly entertaining and liked being the one person who got to annoy you without being hit.

Definitely not because he liked you.

Right?

Right.

It wasn’t like you two would wait for each other by the elevator every morning. No, absolutely not — you were both far too emotionally constipated and aggressively independent to admit to something as wildly intimate as synchronized elevator rides.

And yet.

Somehow, like clockwork, you’d step out your apartment door and he’d be there — leaning with one shoulder against the wall beside the lift, arms crossed, coffee already in hand, expression set to his usual ‘who the fuck woke me up’ setting. And on the rare days you were early, you’d pretend you weren’t glancing up from your phone every five seconds just to see if you’d hear the familiar thunk-thunk-thunk of his heavy shoes dragging toward you.

You never greeted each other like normal people. God forbid.

“Oh look, the hallway’s ugliest plant finally bloomed,” you’d say sweetly.

“Aw, how cute. A raccoon in office clothes,” he’d grunt, stepping into the elevator first like the absolute bastard he was.

You two always made it a point to bicker through the entire ride, then all the way to the station. And then — just because the universe hadn’t punished either of you enough — you somehow took the same line to work.

It’d start off harmless — like Coachella 2025, which you both agreed was a walking tragedy, but couldn’t agree on why.

“I’m just saying, you can’t call it a comeback if the vocals sound like someone left a kettle screaming on the stove.”

“They were experimental vocals,” Sukuna huffed. “Not everyone wants the same autotuned garbage you listen to.”

“Says the man whose Spotify Wrapped had three songs Fetty Wap songs in it.”

“Hell yeah it did.”

Or you’d end up arguing over Nanami’s latest sweets — the ones he passed out in neat little boxes with origami on top and a handwritten note. And Sukuna, who had the nerve to say “This tastes like diabetes” with a scrunched-up face, had the audacity to later be caught in the act — crouched in front of the communal fridge, shoveling the leftover sugar-drenched delicacies into his mouth like he was trying to erase all evidence.

You stood at the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

“You want me to get you some insulin, champ?”

He didn’t even stop chewing. Just said, around a mouthful of icing, “Fuck off. It’s called recycling. I’m saving the planet.”

And your little morning routine would be incomplete without the stop at the rickety cafe around the corner — a shoebox-sized shop tucked beside a bookstore, smelling like toasted bread and too much cinnamon. The place was run by a sleepy-eyed, nose-ringed man named Choso, who you later found out was Sukuna’s cousin through what had to be divine punishment.

“He looks like he listens to sad violin music in the dark,” you once whispered.

“He does. But he also makes good coffee. Don’t let the existential energy fool you,” Sukuna muttered.

The place was always packed, but somehow, your order would be ready by the time you got to the counter. Tea for you, coffee for Sukuna. Every damn day.

Except for the one time the cups got swapped.

You didn���t notice until you took a long, scalding sip and promptly had your soul exit your body.

“Why does this taste like shit and caffeine?” you coughed.

“Because you’re drinking my coffee, dumbass,” Sukuna muttered from his end, eyeing your cup like he could will it back into his hands.

Neither of you had time to swap. So you just… drank it.

You were wired until 4 p.m., typing up emails like a possessed gremlin. 

Meanwhile, Sukuna? Snored in the middle of a team call. Snored. In his swivel chair. (He still claims the spreadsheet was boring enough to induce a coma.)

And maybe the most ridiculous part of it all was the way the day would end — with both of you pretending like you weren’t keeping an eye on the metro clock, waiting.

“You’re late,” Sukuna would grumble when you jogged up to him, hair windswept, tie lopsided.

“You’re still ugly,” you’d pant, and both of you would file into the train like two mismatched puzzle pieces forced into the same space.

And sometimes, between the back-and-forths and the sleepy evenings, the rocking of the train would lull one of you to sleep. And it was always the same — if he passed out first, head thunking against your shoulder, you’d just sigh and adjust your bag so it didn’t jab him in the ribs, pretending it wasn’t a little warm having his weight on you.

And if it was you, drooling slightly, head falling against him? He’d hiss a bit. Complain. Say things like, “Great. I’m a fucking pillow now,” under his breath. But he’d stay still. Wouldn’t shove you off. And he’d glare at anyone who even so much as looked at the seat beside you like they were thinking of sitting there, as if to say: “Touch her and die.”

And yet you both swore — swore — that none of this meant anything. Just morning routines. Just bickering. Just accidentally tolerating each other. Totally normal. Nothing weird about it at all. Right?

By the time the elevator dinged on your floor and the two of you stepped out, it was the usual symphony of tired bones and overworked brains, the air thick with the shared scent of corporate despair and too-sweet coffee you shouldn’t have had at 4 p.m., but did anyway. Your body ached, your bag hung off your shoulder like dead weight, and Sukuna was just behind you — jacket slung over one shoulder, shirt half-untucked, tie loose and mouth full of complaints he hadn’t started voicing yet. But then —

A tug.

Sharp and sudden, like a fishing line catching tension, like the universe pinched your pinky in a moment of bratty playfulness. Your hand jerked slightly, and you looked down, frowning.

And oh. There it was again. The string.

The same one you thought was a caffeine-induced fever dream. The one that had flickered into existence before, soft as spider silk and just as annoying, but now it was solid — scarlet red, humming faintly with a shimmer of something that felt way too personal and real. It wound snug around your pinky, stretched across the two feet between you, and found its twin grip around Sukuna’s hand.

And he was staring at it too.

His face was unreadable — which was new. Gone was the usual smug, twitchy grimace of a man permanently five seconds away from telling someone to choke. No, right now he looked… quiet. Contemplative. Like he’d seen this before. 

Like he knew something.

“Hey,” he started, voice unusually low, not his usual bark or snarl, but a drawl trying to reach for something softer, something that made your stomach twist unexpectedly, “There’s something I—”

But his words were promptly obliterated by the sudden thump-thump-thump-thump of tiny hands and knees against the floor.

A pink blur came barrelling up the stairwell like a demon on all fours — two-year-old Yuuji, in all his diapered, wide-eyed, suspiciously-strong-for-his-age glory. He practically launched himself up the final step and planted himself directly between the both of you, letting out a squeal of delight as he sat on the floor and began excitedly grabbing at the air.

No — not the air.

The string.

Your eyes widened as his chubby fists tried to catch the flickering red thread, cooing and giggling and babbling nonsense in toddler tongue as if the world’s most entertaining toy had just appeared before him.

“Reeeeddddddd!!” he crowed, crawling into Sukuna’s office shoe like it was his new throne.

You blinked. “Wait. You can see this too?!”

Yuuji looked up at you, beaming, nodding with the pride of a war general. “Pretty!”

“Oh fuck me,” Sukuna muttered under his breath, eyes darting toward the stairwell just as the loud clomp of formal shoes came echoing behind the kid.

Nanami appeared — flushed, panting, tie disheveled like he’d just run a full marathon in work shoes, one hand clutching the stair railing for dear life. He stopped dead when he saw where Yuuji had gone. 

“Oh thank God,” he gasped, bending slightly with his hands on his knees. “I thought I was going to have to file a police report.”

“Your kid just speed-crawled up three floors,” you pointed out, vaguely horrified.

“He does that. I can’t stop him. He’s like a golden retriever possessed by Satan,” Nanami said, coughing.

Meanwhile, Yuuji was now crawling in circles around the two of you, still trying to catch the red string, occasionally grabbing at your legs or Sukuna’s pants like the thing was taunting him. You and Sukuna exchanged a look — not your usual annoyed-glare combo, but a genuinely confused what the hell is going on look.

And again, you noticed the way Sukuna was looking at the string. Not shocked, not panicked. Just tired. Thoughtful. Like a man who had been putting off something inevitable and just ran out of time. You tilted your head. “Okay. What do you know that I don’t?”

He looked like he might say it. Really say it.

But then Yuuji yanked at the thread hard enough to make it pulse — and you felt it, a zap of something warm curling around your chest like it’d coiled straight through your ribs.

“What the hell?!” you flinched.

Sukuna sighed. Muttered something under his breath you didn’t catch. And then, looking straight at you, jaw tense:

“…I’ll explain tomorrow.”

“You better,” you hissed, heart hammering for reasons you refused to unpack right now. 

And behind you, Yuuji was still squealing with joy.

“Red! Red! Red!!”

Nanami quietly took out a juice box from his briefcase and bribed him down the hall. You couldn’t help but think he had the right idea.

Because if you thought the red thread was a joke, now you were the punchline.

And Sukuna?

You were starting to think he’d been reading the script the whole damn time.

You didn’t even realize how long you’d been lying there — not really. The air in your room was heavy, too still, the kind of quiet that felt a little like grief, or maybe a little like denial, something sharp and slow and suffocating all at once. You were on your back, lights still on, phone somewhere lost in the folds of your sheets, your speaker untouched and silent for once — no pop music or shitty love songs to drown out the thoughts.

Just silence.

And the thread.

That fucking thread.

It glowed faintly against the backdrop of your ceiling, rising gently from your pinky like a tendril of smoke, an unwanted, uninvited thing that refused to leave. You lifted your hand, half-wishing it would vanish if you blinked enough times. 

It didn’t. It shimmered in the low light, stubborn and elegant, like the universe had decided it was feeling poetic this week and picked you as its tragic metaphor.

You gave it a slight tug, just to see.

The resulting sting shot through your finger like a spark, making you flinch — and from behind your wall, you heard him.

“Oi!” came Sukuna’s voice, muffled but unmistakably him, rough and indignant, like you’d just elbowed him in the ribs. “What the hell was that for, you—?!”

You immediately turned your back to the wall, rolling with a sigh so dramatic it could have won awards. You stared at your curtains, dull in the soft glow of streetlights outside. “Not now,” you muttered to no one, hoping the string would relay that too.

There was silence. Maybe for five seconds. 

Then another tug. Gentler this time. Hesitant.

You glared at the wall. “What?”

A long pause. And then:

“…You’re not gonna talk to me?” Sukuna’s voice came quieter now, like he didn’t know what to do with it either. “You’ve been quiet for hours. I thought you’d… I don’t know. Start yelling or something.”

You sat up a little, pressing the heel of your palm against your eyes. “Yeah well,” you muttered, “I’ve used up my yelling quota for the month. Thanks for that.”

There was a rustling on his side. A beat. Then another tug — not a sting this time, but something like a nudge, like a poke in the shoulder.

“I didn’t think you’d freak out,” Sukuna admitted, voice low. Too honest. “Figured you’d laugh. Say it’s stupid. Call it a dumb romance trope or whatever.”

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your forehead to your knees. “It is a dumb romance trope,” you whispered. “Except now it’s… real. I can feel it, Sukuna. It hurts when you pull it. It glows. Why does it glow?!”

He didn’t answer for a moment. Then softly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud:

“…Because it’s always been there.”

You froze. Slowly, you turned to face the wall.

“What?”

Sukuna exhaled — you could hear it, rough and frustrated, like he was mad at himself more than anything. “I didn’t… I didn’t know how to bring it up. I thought maybe I was just seeing things for a while. It didn’t show up for you yet. But I’ve—”

A pause.

“I’ve seen it. Since the day we met.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

He’d known? This whole time?

“You knew? And you didn’t tell me?” Your voice cracked mid-sentence, sharp with something you didn’t know how to name.

“Would you have believed me?” he bit back, not harsh — just defeated. “You already thought I was insane when we met. You still think I’m insane. Imagine if I’d told you there was some red fucking magical string tying our souls together, huh?”

You opened your mouth to argue. He would’ve sounded completely unhinged. You dragged your hands over your face, trying to breathe through it. Trying not to feel like the floor had dropped out beneath you.

“What does it mean?” you asked, quietly now. “Why us?”

A long silence.

Then Sukuna, tired:

“…I don’t know.”

You swallowed.

“But it’s real, right?”

Another beat.

“Yeah.”

And neither of you spoke after that. But the string pulsed once — soft, warm — and for the first time, you didn’t tug back.

The days after that were strange — soft in the kind of way that crept up on you, like the first breath of cold after a long summer. Not that either of you would admit it, of course. Not in words, not directly. Sukuna still barked when you burned your toast too loud at six in the morning, and you still scoffed when he sprayed too much cologne and gave your sinuses a five-hour long panic attack. But even the insults were different now, frayed at the edges with something gentle.

When Sukuna left for work with his tie somehow inside out — you’d swear the man had to try to do that — you clicked your tongue, rolled your eyes like you wanted to stab him with a fork, then silently pulled it off and fixed it for him. He grumbled under his breath, as always, but didn't move a muscle while you smoothed it out. 

And when you tied your hair back with such rabid intensity that you gave yourself a headache halfway through lunch, he reached over the table without looking up from his phone, tugged the scrunchie loose with one hand, and shoved a protein bar into your other.

“Don’t pass out before five,” he muttered.

You didn’t even say thank you. 

You didn’t have to. The red string hummed for you.

And it was little things like that, really — like how you’d pick up his package when he wasn’t home, and he’d grumble and call you nosy, but then you’d find your favorite sour candy stuffed inside the handle of your apartment door.

Or how you’d snatch the umbrella from his hand because “You’re gonna get electrocuted holding metal near the power lines, stupid,” only for him to give you the umbrella in the morning again, saying it made your ridiculous frog print raincoat look less lonely.

You weren’t in love. Not yet. But you were on the road.

And sometimes, you swore you’d been on it before. Like the rhythm of this whole mess felt familiar, not just in this life.

Maybe once you were a dog and he was a cat, and you spent your days yowling and chasing each other up fences, knocking over trash cans in the name of something feral and tender. 

Maybe once you were thunder and he was a crooked old mountain, always meeting, always crashing, never quite learning the other’s shape but staying anyway.

Maybe once you were two flowers growing on either side of a forest, reaching for each other across centuries of sunlight. 

Maybe once you were nothing but stories told by firelight, over and over, in every tongue — about the fox who chased the wolf through storm after storm, until both of them finally curled up together under one tree.

And maybe, just maybe, it was always you and him, clawing and biting and bickering and loving.

Because now, in this life, here you were again.

In a train too crowded for comfort, someone’s armpit too close to your face, someone else’s elbow poking your spine, and yet you were standing on your tiptoes just to peer through the sea of heads, holding up your pinky so the string between you would tug. Not hard, just a little nudge.

And across the crowd, Sukuna turned.

He was pretending to read the ads above the windows, face bored, mouth twitching like he was already planning to insult your taste in shoes or how your hair looked like it lost a fight with the wind — but when he felt the tug, his gaze softened, just a little.

Then he looked at you. And without a word, he tugged back.

You smiled just a little, and the train rolled on.

Outside, the sun broke through the clouds like it had been waiting all morning.

Inside, the red string pulsed with something warm.

And for once — for maybe the thousandth time across a hundred lives — you wouldn't have it any other way.

[demoniika]

my fashionably late take on the darkstalker graphic novel cover redraw trend

also, just finished that darkstalker server i mentioned~

here's the invite:

WoF: Darkness

This server takes place in an AU where Darkstalker never ate the strawberry - instead, Darkstalker succeeds in taking over the continent, imprisoning those who would choose to oppose him and waging war against the tribes who would not submit to his rule. Not everything goes smoothly for him though - with skyfire and the copies of Qibli’s enchanted earring, dragons have tools against Darkstalker’s tyranny, and a rebellion is stirring beneath his feet.

In this server, we offer:

- An LGBTQ+ friendly community

- Two very cool co-owners (this is a totally unbiased statement)

- The opportunity to get your little hands on special abilities like animus magic

- Semi literate to literate roleplayers

- Many roleplay channels for your perusal

The server has just opened and so many roles need to be filled (from the princes and princesses to Darkstalker himself!), so perhaps consider joining to get your hands on one.

[pl0tty]

Jojo’s ABC’s of Drarry fic: a rec list of Drarry fics I love, sorted in alphabetical order!

26 fics ♡ 26 authors ♡ a good mix of smut, fluff, angst and plot ♡ enjoy!!

A — All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre (E, 29.4k)

All over London portraits are disappearing from their canvases.

Auror Harry! Expert-in-Magical-Art-Theory Draco! There's running, dancing, falling through ice, what’s this paper giraffe doing here? A great time was had by all.

B — Beneath the Wave by @moonflower-rose (E, 30k words)

Harry is done with a life in the spotlight. No more adventures, no more mortal peril. He wants a quiet life of food and friends, and family. He even manages to have it for a while, until suddenly there are giant rabbits that need ferrying to a mysterious island, and a handsome Draco Malfoy, and Harry's right back in the middle of the action again, despite his best efforts.

C — Come For Me by Frayach (E, 24.6k words)

After Draco is paralyzed in an accident, he and Harry discover a new way to make love.

D — Dwelling by aideomai (E, 83.3k words)

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.

E — Embers by @shiftylinguini (E, 41.2k words)

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice.

Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

F — freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (E, 17.1k words)

How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy?

If only Draco would let him count the ways.

(Sometimes, a happily-ever-after takes a bit longer than you expect.)

G — Going Postal (A 125-Page Comic) by dustmouth (T)

So Draco and Harry sort of maybe have a bit of a thing going. Which is all fine and good, but would probably be more effective if they managed to be on the same continent for more than five minutes at a time.

H — Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi (T, 93.3k words)

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

I — I Do Not Love You by @writandromance (E, 228.2k words)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home.

In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy's relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love.

A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.

J — Je te reverrai by @soliblomst (E, 16.1k words)

When Beauxbatons visited Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, Draco managed to control his attraction to fourteen-year-old Harry Potter.

When Beauxbatons returns three years later for a cultural exchange, Draco's attraction to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter is impossible to curtail.

In his defence, Harry's perfectly tailored blue robes, mixed signals, and French accent do not help.

K — Keep your hands on me by @tenthousandyearsx (E, 21.4k words)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

L — Lusimeles by orphan_account (E, 23.2k words)

“You’re not special, Potter,” Kingsley informs him, not looking up from his work.

“But I’ve already done Occlumency training!” Harry splutters, indignant. “And it’s Malfoy.”

M — More Than That by joosetta (E, 10.9k words)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

N — No One Ever Told Me by @slightweasel (M, 25.7k words)

Harry marries Draco to get him out of Azkaban.

Things get weird. And confusing. And then weird some more.

O — Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46.1k words)

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

P — Probationary Action by @toomuchplor (E, 63.3k words)

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

Q — Quickie by @greaseonmymouth (E, 11.8k words)

Harry's 8th year is going okay: he's got a girlfriend, the future is far away, and he has no choices to make. And then Malfoy starts sending him dick pics.

R — Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu (E, 75.3 words)

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

S — Slithering by @astolat (E, 27.3k words)

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.

T — Tandem by @fastbrother (M, 90.8k words)

Harry and Draco meet by accident six years after the war. Harry's an Auror with a drinking problem and Draco's a broke student. Things don't work out well. Six years after that, Draco joins the British Auror Office as a Potioneer.

U — Untouched by @stratigraphywrites (E, 11.2k words)

"The magic demands a sacrifice," Malfoy said. "What kind of sacrifice?" Malfoy's mouth twisted grimly. "A virgin." Harry felt his eyes widen. "Killing one?" "No, of course not, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "Don't be macabre. Fucking one." Malfoy exhaled with bitter disappointment. "Fuck. Rules us out." Harry took a deep breath. His face felt hotter than ever. "It doesn't, actually."

Harry's had some terrible birthdays in his life. But this one - trapped in a cave with Draco Malfoy, and only one way out - has to take the cake.

V — Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis by @vukovich (E, 50k words)

Harry's assignment was simple. Close out Draco Malfoy's missing persons case so he can be declared dead.

But who's making withdrawals from Malfoy's vaults? How is a death omen-turned-Unspeakable involved? Is an organization known as the Moirai to blame?

Harry brushes it off until he can't. Until The Prophet is flooded with sightings of dead people. Until Robards throws himself on his sword. Until Ron turns on his own family. Until Harry scarcely trusts his own reflection in the mirror and trusts the stranger in his bed even less.

Until all that stands between war and peace is Harry, a name plate, a stadium of murderers, and Draco Malfoy.

God save the Ministry.

W — What’s Mine is Yours by @fluxweeed (E, 17k words)

Harry loses something important. Malfoy helps him get it back.

X — Ex Nihilo (And Other Feats of An Untrained Veela) by Kandakicksass (E, 129k words)

Ever since returning to Hogwarts, Harry has had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, who exists at the bottom of the social ladder and is just trying to survive their "eighth year."

One veela presentation (and Harry's natural resistance to veela allure) changes all of that.

Y — Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k words)

After a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes. At first, Harry credits this to a new enthusiasm for life. But as the days pass and Draco's behavior becomes more and more mysterious, Harry begins to suspect that something bigger--and darker--is at work.

Z — Zenith by @corvuscrowned (E, 20.6k words)

Desperate to find relief from worsening migraines and broken magic, Harry sets out to reach mystical hot springs that are said to grant healing and realignment.

The only problem? The springs lie deep within a cursed forest that lures hikers to their death by tempting them with their greatest desires.

So when Harry sees Draco Malfoy in the forest, he must be hallucinating.

Right?

Or: A hero’s journey but gay.

[babybat98]

Explaing Tolkien lore to the unaware be like:

"... and then the continent of Beleriand was destroyed and sank beneath the waves."

"Oh so like Atlantis?"

"No, Atlantis comes later."

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Imagine Yandere!Zhongli in a Reverse!AU, where you're Liyue's Archon and you seal him away. Thousands of years ago, you and him were friends ruling over different sections of what would become Liyue. You hardly noticed the way his eyes lingered on you whenever he saw you, hardly knew how he would dream of having you all to himself.

One day, he makes an advance as you both sip on tea at Mount Aocang, pledging to move mountains and sink continents if you ask. The price of his eternal affection remains unsaid, but you can see it in the feral, draconic look in his eye. Every dragon has a hoard, even Zhongli. And he will stop at nothing until he can have you as his most valuable treasure.

Despite his efforts to prevent you from escaping, you manage to flee back to your territory. Weeks later, Zhongli attempts to catch you off guard with a surprise invasion, but in the heat of battle, you manage to seal him away beneath the earth.

Millenia pass, and you mourn the loss of a friend, but work to build the nation of Liyue up to the ground. The Fatui come, offering a deal for your Gnosis, and you refuse. It is a mistake you will regret every day for eternity.

One day, the earth shakes in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You feel his presence before you even catch a glimpse of his crystalline horns or golden eyes. Warm and earthy like petrichor. Running out into the city streets, you help an elderly couple around some piles of rubble, before continuing towards the source of the power.

The God of Contracts finds you first, though, easily snaring your feet in stone. His power is choking in a way, and when you try to fight back with your own magic, you feel the power in your body quickly draining from you. Zhongli notices the surprise in your face, and a small smirk plays on his lips. "I've had many years to learn some new...tricks, my treasure," he murmurs, striding towards you confidently. His fingers hook under your chin, pulling it up so your eyes gaze into his. "The people that freed me said they would let me keep you if I gave them your Gnosis."

In an instant, his hand is in your chest, grasping around for your Gnosis. You cry out in pain and try to struggle, but Zhongli grabs your shoulder in a tight grip, forcing you steady. It only takes a moment for him to pull out your Gnosis, gazing at it intently. "You cannot truly understand how long I have dreamt of this day. Of you, my dearest. And now, we will never have to be apart," he whispers, pressing his lips against yours greedily. He allows himself a few seconds to savor this scene, before pulling away.

"Now, my treasure. I wish to make a contract with you." With a wave of his hand, he manifests a piece of parchment filled with words on it out of thin air. "I will help repair all the damage I have done if you promise to be mine, in body and spirit, for better or for worse." You glare at him vehemently, spitting out your refusal. In return, Zhongli simply chuckles. "In that case, I will turn every building to dust," he threatens.

Turning to some already-damaged buildings, he raises a hand, ready to demolish them with a flick of the wrist. Your cries of acquiescence stop him before he can, however. When you finish signing, Zhongli gives you a predatory smile, brushing his fingers against the side of your face. "I knew you would surrender, my dearest," he purrs, possessiveness filling his eyes. "Now, allow me to fulfill my own contract, and then we can return home," he says.

You get the feeling that you will not be leaving home for a very long time.

[idkyetxoxo]

One | The Calm Before the Storm | Little Star

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2.9k

Warnings - None

|| series masterlist || next ->

The Night Court's favourite star. The one they all forgot could fall.

The last-born daughter of the late High Lord and his Illyrian wife. Half-Fae, half-winged. Pure chaos and twilight wrapped in violet silk.

They liked to call me the Night Court's coveted jewel, a title heavy with worship, draped over my shoulders like a crown spun from stars.

Whispers echoed through the streets of Velaris, the dark halls of the Court of Nightmares and all the way to the frozen edges of the continent. They spoke of the beauty that outshone starlight, of the smile that could tempt saints and the gaze that could ensnare sinners.

Rhysand might have been the most beautiful male in Prythian—darkness personified, with eyes that held galaxies, but beside him, I was something else entirely.

Not merely beautiful. Mythic. Dangerous. A living echo of the Court itself. Dreams and nightmares all at once.

The kind of beauty you bled for. The kind of beauty that haunted you.

A living contradiction, soft but sharp, beloved but untouchable. The brightness in the dark.

I wasn't a warrior like Cassian, forged in flame and fury. I wasn't a spymaster like Azriel, silent and deadly as the dark. I wasn't a ruler like Rhys, with the weight of a kingdom carved into his spine.

I was something else.

The princess of the Night Court, cloaked in starlight and a dozen kinds of devotion I never asked for. The female they praised, the female they protected, the female they thought would never shatter.

And yet—even stars fall.

Tonight, the townhouse swelled with warmth and life. Laughter spilt out of the kitchen like sunlight through broken, gold-stained glass.

The scent of wine, spiced meat, sweet fruit and freshly baked bread curled through the air, clinging to the velvet drapes and polished wood with familiar affection.

It was the kind of night that felt like home.

I sat curled into the corner of the couch, the plush cushions swallowing me whole.

One hand cradled a half-full glass of wine, the other was buried in the folds of my gown, fingers idly twisting silk. My bare feet were tucked beneath me, warmed by the firelight that flickered soft and amber across the room.

Cassian and Rhys were in the center of the room, lost in what had begun as a disagreement about battle formations until Cassian, with that infuriating smile on his face, had made a snide comment about Rhys's "groomed-to-death" hair.

Now the conversation had devolved into a dramatic, absolutely senseless argument over whose hair possessed more sheen, complete with overly serious tone and infuriatingly mocking gestures.

Typical.

I smiled behind the rim of my glass, letting the noise of them wash over me, a chorus of ridiculousness I'd grown to love over the years.

A familiar weight dipped the cushions beside me, unhurried and sure.

I didn't need to look to know who it was. I knew. I always knew. His presence sang along my skin before he ever spoke, before I could even breathe him in.

Shadows brushed against my arm, soft as a sigh, cold as the space between stars. The same shadows that clung to him like second skin, like sorrow.

A crown of darkness that only a handful saw.

The scent of him wrapped around me, grounding and ghostly all at once. Crisp mountain air, steel, worn leather, and something older, something aching. Something like night.

"Azriel," I murmured, turning just enough to lift my glass toward him. Our eyes met briefly, and the clink of crystal between us felt almost sacred. "Looking well."

He didn't smile, not quite, but something in his expression softened, the way the snow does when kissed by the first light of spring.

His voice was low when he spoke, barely a breath meant for me. "You burn so bright, little star."

His scarred fingers found the edge of my gown, smoothing the silk with reverence, with memory. Violet silk. The colour of twilight. The mirror of my eyes.

His touch was not possessive—it was almost...mournful.

"Careful, Shadowsinger," I replied without looking at him. "You'll go blind."

Dismissal, subtle and practised but not unnoticed. Not by him. Never by him.

His shadows shifted, restless, curling around my forearms like smoke, like secrets, like longing held too long inside a war-forged heart. They tightened then loosened, as if arguing about whether to cling or to let go.

A dance, initiated but incomplete. A tale, told but unfinished.

Azriel wanted me. That truth lived in every glance that lingered too long, in every word he didn't say. In the aching silence between us.

He wanted me with the quiet desperation of a man who believed the things he longed for were meant only for others. A hunger contained behind a wall built of guilt and time.

And I... I loved him in another life.

One where I wasn't the court's darling or its symbol. One where I wasn't stitched into so many roles, caught between myth and reality.

But this wasn't that life.

There was a beauty in what we shared now, this unspoken understanding between us.

It was raw, real, and filled with the quiet intimacy of a thousand unspoken words.

I didn't want to spoil it by crossing that line. I didn't want to turn it into something messy, something that might break.

If we reached for more, we might lose everything we have, and the thought of that makes me hesitate.

Maybe we were better as we were. Unfinished, untamed, but still whole.

"Little star!" Cassian's voice sliced clean through the delicate tension between me and Azriel.

It rang out across the room, loud and unapologetic, crashing through the quiet like a war cry softened by affection.

He stood near the fireplace, grinning like the chaos incarnate he was, that same wicked grin that had once gotten us both thrown out of a palace in Adriata—twice.

He beckoned me over with a cocked brow and a flash of teeth, mischief dancing in his hazel eyes.

I rose without hesitation, slipping from Azriel's orbit. His shadows lingered on my skin like fingerprints, invisible but undeniable.

I didn't need to look back to know he was watching me go. He always did.

I crossed the room, each step echoing with the clink of glass and the low hum of firelight and fondness.

I perched myself on the armrest of Amren's chair, deliberately casual. The ancient, irritable being narrowed her silver eyes at me, then, shockingly, didn't shove me off. A small victory.

I gave her a wink like I'd just stolen a secret, and for a breath, I thought she might smile. She didn't, of course but it was worth a try.

"You agree with me, don't you?" Cassian asked, dramatically gesturing toward Rhys, who looked thoroughly exasperated.

I took a slow sip of my wine, letting them stew. "I think," I said at last, tilting my head with studied elegance, "neither of you has the best hair in this court."

Two simultaneous, theatrical gasps filled the room. You'd think I'd slapped them both.

"It's clearly Mor," I added with a wicked smile, swirling the wine in my glass as Rhys recoiled like I'd stabbed him through the heart. "She doesn't even try. It just is."

"My hair shimmers," Rhys argued, scandalised before running a hand through his onyx waves.

Cassian snorted. "You glamor it, you narcissist."

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Cass," Rhys replied smoothly.

Their banter spiralled, insults laced with affection and long-forged trust, the kind of exchange only born of decades spent bleeding and laughing together.

I leaned into the rhythm of it easily, letting the warmth of the room, the wine and their voices settle into my bones.

I hid my grin at their ridiculousness behind the rim of my glass, the crystal cool against my lips.

Rhys saw it anyway, of course he did. His violet eyes met mine, glittering with humour, and he winked. That knowing, over-the-top wink he always used when he was being absurd. When he wanted to draw a laugh out of me.

Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. The most powerful male in Prythian. A tactician, a warrior, a manipulator with a silver tongue and a heart full of stars.

To everyone else, he was legend.

To me, he was something far more sacred.

My brother. My anchor. The one who held me when the sky cracked and the world tilted sideways. My protector, my partner-in-crime, my first home.

"Both of you should shut up," Amren muttered, not bothering to look up. Her voice, dry as bone dust, cut through the bickering like a blade honed on centuries of disdain.

She swirled the contents of her cup with precision, as if the drink itself had insulted her.

I grinned and blew her a kiss. She didn't flinch. Didn't hiss. Didn't even glare. Which, for Amren, was practically a declaration of undying affection. A non-response was her version of a hug.

She'd told me once, over a glass of something blood-red, that I was "less annoying than the rest." Which, in her ancient, mildly terrifying dialect, translated roughly to "I'd kill for you, but don't make me say it out loud."

"I agree," came Mor's voice, smooth and bright as sunlight slipping through stained glass.

She strode into the room like she owned it. Confidence radiated off her in golden waves, her honey-blonde hair tousled from wind, cheeks flushed, smile loose and easy.

Mor and I had a special bond.

We spoke the same unspoken language, the one of hidden battles beneath painted smiles. Of quiet strength disguised as flirtation. Of wearing beauty like armour and never apologising for it.

In her hands, she carried a plate still steaming with warmth. Brownies. Dense and gooey in the middle, their scent curling through the room like a spell.

She waved them like a blessing, like an invitation to sin.

Cassian, predictably, lunged like a beast unleashed. He tackled her with all the grace of a war general who had absolutely no chill, snatching three brownies before she could elbow him hard enough to make him grunt.

"These are amazing," he declared through a mouthful, already crumbs on his chest.

Rhys, ever elegant, took one with a flourish, raising it in salute. "This is why I keep you around."

I rolled my eyes as I stole the plate from his hands, swirling my wine with mock offence.

With the brownies secured, I turned on my heel and made my way back to the shadows—back to him.

Azriel didn't move, but I felt the shift in the air before I even reached him. His shadows stirred, rippling like smoke disturbed by a breath. Coiled tension then slow release.

Like they recognised me as something safe.

"I baked your favourite, Az," I said softly, offering the plate like a peace treaty. I added a wink, light as moonlight, as if it meant nothing at all.

A faint blush crept up his neck as he accepted them, his mouth parting like he might say something soft or something dangerous.

Before he could speak Mor hooked an arm around my waist and yanked me down into her lap with a grin.

"We keep her around because she's the better-looking sibling," she said, popping a brownie into her mouth.

I sighed dramatically, resting my head against her shoulder as I balanced the plate between us. "Here I thought it was because you all liked me."

Laughter echoed around the room as conversations sparked back up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Azriel watching me, just a flicker, a glance quickly masked by the shadows curling at his shoulders.

But it was enough. Enough to stir memories best left undisturbed.

The fire crackled, but my mind had drifted back to a different night—a night long ago, in the days when we were all children, before shadows had claimed so much of Azriel.

I could still picture it clearly, Cassian and Rhys, so much younger, rushing through the front door, their footsteps loud against the polished floors.

"What is it?" My mother's voice had been full of that special kind of warmth she reserved for her children, her tone soft yet firm.

I had, of course, been sitting on the stairs, pretending not to listen, but eager to know who they'd brought home.

It was Azriel.

I'd never seen anyone like him before, his figure, tall for his age, standing awkwardly in the doorway, a stranger in a world that didn't quite feel like it belonged to him.

His face was barely visible beneath the dark cloak that swallowed him whole, but I remember the flicker of shadows that clung to him.

I could sense it even then. His isolation. His silence.

Rhys had been the first to speak, always the one to smooth over awkwardness. "This is Azriel," he said, an easy grin on his face. "We found him."

Cassian had clapped him on the back, laughing, "Don't mind him, he's a bit shy."

Azriel hadn't said anything at first, just staring at us with those eyes that held so much unsaid.

And then I noticed them—his hands. Bandaged. Thick layers of cloth wrapped tightly around his fingers, hiding whatever scars lay beneath.

I hadn't been able to help myself. I had asked, a child's curiosity mixed with concern.

"Why are your hands wrapped?"

Azriel had hesitated. His voice had been low and careful, like he was testing how much to trust us, how much to give away.

"I got hurt," he had murmured, his eyes flickering to the floor, avoiding my gaze.

In that moment, a strange urge had filled me. I don't know why. Maybe it was the way the shadows seemed to coil around him, or maybe it was the vulnerability in his words, in his attempt to mask the pain.

But I had stood, gone to him, and cupped his hands gently in mine, the coolness of the bandages contrasting sharply against my skin.

And I kissed them. His hands.

It wasn't a grand gesture, nor was it filled with any deeper meaning, but in that simple moment, a thread had tied us together—one that neither of us had fully understood at the time.

It had been a fleeting touch, my lips brushing against the cloth, soft as a whisper.

But Azriel had looked at me then, really looked at me and something in his eyes shifted.

Something deeper, something older than the boy he had been. He hadn't pulled away. Instead, he had let me hold his hands for a long moment, and I had felt his quiet decision, even then.

He had silently made a promise to himself that he would always protect me, would always be there, even if he couldn't voice it.

From that moment on, something had always been different between us. He'd become a part of our family in a way that words couldn't explain.

The shadows never left him, and neither did the weight of that silent vow.

I shook the memory from my mind.

I glanced at him briefly, catching his gaze again for the briefest second before he turned away, as though nothing had ever passed between us. But I knew. I always knew.

I wonder if he remembered it too—the day his heart had made its silent, reluctant choice.

Mor, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaned over toward me, her voice a soft hum in my ear, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Rita's?" she asked, as if the very mention of the place was a secret invitation only I could understand.

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Really? After all this?"

Her grin widened, her eyes flicking over to the others.

Cassian slapped a hand over his heart in mock offence, his voice a bit too dramatic to be taken seriously. "I'm offended that you would even ask. Of course, we're going. Right, Rhys?"

Rhys, who had been watching the exchange with that calculating glimmer in his violet eyes, nodded in agreement. "Sounds good to me."

Amren, who had been quietly watching the banter unfold with the patience of someone who'd seen it all before, shot them both a sharp glance.

Her silver eyes narrowed, her lips curling into the faintest of sneers.

"I'll pass," she said, the cold finality in her voice making it clear that there would be no further discussion on the matter.

The room fell into a brief, almost reverent silence. No one argued with Amren. Not now, not ever.

Mor didn't miss a beat. She shot a wink at the others and then turned her eyes to me. "Well, little star?" she said, leaning in, a playful dare in her tone. "Are you coming, or are you going to stay here, all wrapped up in your little corner?"

I glanced at Azriel, he was now leaning against the wall, his gaze distant but somehow still fixed on me. The faintest trace of tension hung between us, a silent conversation in the way his shadows curled around his body, as if waiting for my response.

I didn't hesitate. My voice was steady, unwavering when I spoke. "Yes, I'll go."

Azriel's head lifted further at the sound of my voice, and there was a flash of something in his eyes—almost relief, though it was gone too quickly for me to read.

Then, as if he were still battling with something unspoken, he took a slow step forward, his shadows drifting like smoke around his feet.

"I'll go too," he said softly, his voice a quiet thread of acceptance.

There was no more resistance. No more hesitation.

Rhys clapped his hands together in glee. "Well, that settles it."

Mor whooped and sprang to her feet, tugging me up with her. Cassian threw an arm around both our shoulders as he steered us toward the door, already launching into some ridiculous plan that involved absolutely no supervision.

Laughter bubbled up again, easy, warm and filling every corner of the room until it felt like the house itself was breathing with it.

Behind us, the door swung shut with a soft click, sealing away the last echoes of that golden evening, like a memory we were already beginning to lose.

A/n - Okay, first chapter is finally here! I wanted to start with a little intro to everyone's dynamics, and then a memory of the first time Azriel and reader met, just to give a bit of an explanation to their relationship.

Next chapter is where the real story starts, and it gets good, trust me (lots of angst), and I love angst x

If you’ve made it this far, I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please let me know. I’m a little nervous since this is my first time writing for ACOTAR (please don’t be shy to like, comment, or reblog!) <3

Little Star tag list - @jaybbygrl @writtenbypavani @fall-winter-heart97 @coeurdeveea @lilg101010 @krazykangaroo712 @moonlitlavenders @lil-lupa @jasmineee05 @pinksnowtiger @yourdarkrose

[inkedinshadows]

The Value of Love

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

A/N: Thank you @batboyslutt for this request! I had so many different ideas for it, but unfortunately I could choose only one. I hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻 and sorry for posting it later than usual, but I'm writing these day by day

Prompts: "We shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong." + "Why can't you just admit the truth?" + angst + smut + forbidden romance because of Rhys

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, bit of miscommunication, arguments

Word count: 1.5k

Azriel’s kisses grew more insistent as his mouth trailed down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there. Your eyes were closed, your hands tangled in his hair, sliding down his back, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled against your skin, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even lift his head from the crook of your neck. “This is wrong.”

So he’d said—multiple times already.

You rolled your eyes. “Azriel,” you groaned. You cupped his cheeks and forced him to meet your gaze. “If you say that one more time while you’re balls-deep inside me, I am going to leave. Is that clear?”

Azriel’s hips faltered mid-thrust, then stilled, though he didn’t pull out. His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, his hair thoroughly mussed from your fingers running through it.

For a moment, you just stared at each other.

It was an argument you’d had more than once before, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time. But for him to bring it up during sex? That, you would not stand for.

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He lowered his head to rest his forehead on your chest, his breath warm against your flushed skin. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You sighed. Careful not to brush against his slumped wings, you wrapped your arms around him and tugged him closer.

“Let’s not talk about this right now,” you murmured. These were some of the last few moments you’d have together before he left for the continent, and you had no intention of wasting them on the same old conversation. “I think we were in the middle of something.”

Azriel lifted his head to look at you, gratitude flickering in his gaze before a smirk bloomed on his beautiful face. “Yes, we were.”

He rolled his hips once, driving himself deeper inside you, and you gasped softly. From there, it was easy to forget the last couple of minutes and focus on nothing but each other.

Azriel resumed his movements, thrusting into you with slow, deep strokes that drew groans from both of you. Each sound was swallowed by a kiss—lips and tongues eager to meet, hands wandering across hard planes and soft curves. Your bodies moved together as if they were made for this, as if you and he were the only beings in the whole world and nothing else mattered.

Pleasure coiled tight in your core, ready to snap with each deliberate thrust. A whispered plea was all Azriel needed to pick up the pace. He brushed his lips up your jaw to your ear, murmuring quiet encouragements and tender words that made your heart swell.

With a breathy moan, you squirmed beneath him, fingers digging into the muscles of his arms as pleasure overwhelmed you. Azriel was close behind you, your release tipping him over the edge as well. He rocked his hips a few more times before spilling himself inside you, holding himself there for a moment, panting against your ear as you both slowly came down from your high.

You turned your head to capture his lips in another kiss, trying to convey everything you felt for him through that simple gesture—the affection, the desire, the emotions you still hadn’t voiced aloud.

Azriel kissed you back, pressing you into the mattress before rolling onto his side. He opened his arms, and you immediately snuggled closer, curling up against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, and for a few moments, you simply lay there, basking in the quiet afterglow.

But as the minutes ticked by and the lingering passion faded, his words crept back into your mind. You tried to push them away, to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lazy strokes of his hand along your back, but they refused to leave.

You hesitated briefly before speaking, your voice quiet. “Why can’t you just admit the truth?”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just…” You searched for the right words, trying not to sound too confrontational. “You always say you don’t want my brother to know because he’s very protective of me, but I think there’s more to it.”

Azriel hummed, seemingly unconvinced. “And what do you think it is, then?”

“I think you’re scared,” you admitted. “Scared of how he’d react if he found out. That he’d tell you you don’t deserve to be with me and that I should find someone else.”

His hand stilled where it had been tracing slow circles on your hip. His expression was unreadable, his golden-brown eyes fixed on you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled away. Sitting up against the headboard, his wings stretched wide behind him, casting shadows over the sheets.

“That’s not what this is about,” he said. His voice was firm, but his gaze didn’t meet yours.

You pushed yourself up as well, keeping your eyes on him. You had thought about this for a long time now—how your brother would react if he knew about your relationship. You weren’t naive. You knew Rhys would be furious at first. But you also knew he would come around and realize that his little sister was grown, that he couldn’t keep males away from her forever. That she could choose for herself who to love.

“Az,” you called, taking his hand in yours. You waited until he finally looked at you again before you continued. “I know telling him might seem terrifying, but Rhys would be happy to know it’s you. You’re his best friend, and I’m his sister. If we make each other happy, why would he be against it?”

Azriel shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

That excuse again. It’s not that simple. You make it sound so easy. You don’t understand. He wouldn’t understand. Always the same words, but never a real answer.

And you were growing tired of it.

Frustration flared hot in your chest as you pulled your hand back.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded. Your tone was sharper than intended, but you didn’t particularly care anymore. “Because from where I’m standing, the only other explanation is that you value Rhysand’s friendship more than… whatever this thing between us is.”

Azriel’s brow knitted together, his expression torn between confusion and disbelief. “You know what this is, princess. You know I love you.”

“So you’ve said.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You saw the flicker of hurt in his hazel eyes, and your chest ached in response. But you didn’t take it back. You couldn’t.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was quieter now, cautious.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze and push the words out. “It means that saying the words isn’t enough. You have to show me. And right now, you’re not doing a great job.”

Azriel inhaled sharply, as if stung. “At least I love you.”

The moment the words left his lips, regret flashed across his face. But it was too late.

They landed like a blade to the chest, slicing through the last thread of your patience.

“Y/N, I—”

You batted away the hand he reached toward you and instead got up to collect the clothes scattered on the floor.

“I do love you, Azriel,” you said, voice tight as you yanked your underwear back on. “But do you want to know why I never told you?”

He looked startled by your declaration at first, but he quickly nodded when he realized you were waiting for an answer.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” you admitted, fingers swiftly buttoning up your shirt. "Because you want to keep this a secret, while I think that what we have is worth so much more than just a few stolen moments in the dark.” You slipped into your trousers, your eyes still on him. “Because I’m tired of hiding from my friends and family just because you’re scared of how my brother might react.”

Azriel said nothing. His jaw was tense, his gaze locked onto the crumpled blankets, refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite the ache in your heart, you stepped back toward the door.

“I won’t hide anymore,” you went on. “Not when it makes you miserable, but you refuse to change it. It's making me miserable too.” You let out a deep breath. “You have to make a choice, Azriel. But if you really love me like you say you do… then it should be an easy one.”

Your fingers curled around the doorknob. Still, he didn’t look at you—didn’t try to talk you out of it, to convince you to stay, to stop you from leaving.

Your blood boiled in your veins.

“Good luck on your mission,” you spat, slamming the door behind you.

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