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cloudtransprncy · 4 months ago

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Ningning x Karina x Male Reader | 18k words Tags: 3sum, blowjob, deepthroating, spit play, hair pulling, breast play, nipple play, dirty talk, dominance, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, body worship, rough sex, two hot bitches feral for cock

Bio can wait. The two baddest bitches at school just told you to skip class with them. Who the fuck would say no? Especially when its Karina and Ning.

no this is not in the same universe as "dumb" :P

The moment you push through the doors to your school's dance room, you know your plan for a solo practice is finished. Karina and Ningning are sprawled against the mirror wall, a perfect picture of cool indifference that somehow makes the empty room feel smaller.

They're wearing what they always wear—simple but devastatingly effective. Karina in high-waisted gray sweatpants that pool slightly at her ankles, paired with a fitted black long-sleeve crop zip up that rises just enough when she stretches. Ningning in similar wide-leg pants but with a simple white off-shoulder top that somehow makes her collarbones look like art. Both outfits say "I barely tried" while looking impossibly put-together.

They're those girls at school—the ones with presence, the ones who command attention without trying.

Everyone on the dance team is attractive in their own way—but they have that something extra. You've seen it countless times during team practices: the way other dancers give them space, how even the coach seems to hold their breath when they perform.

Karina's scrolling through her phone, platinum blonde waves cascading over her shoulders as she absently twists a strand of Ningning's dark hair between her fingers. Ningning has one AirPod in her ear, her dark eyes drifting up to catch yours before you even announce yourself. The contrast between them is striking—Karina's cool blonde presence against Ningning's warm, dark features—perfectly complementary in the way they occupy space.

"Of course," you mutter, dropping your bag near the door with a thud that's maybe a little louder than necessary.

Of course they taking up the whole floor (they're not)

You try to play it casual, hyper-aware of every movement you make. That's the thing about being dancers—you notice details. Sometimes you catch Karina's eyes lingering on you during practice, or notice how Ningning always ends up stretching near you, but you tell yourself it's nothing. Just the usual dance team dynamics. You're all physical people; boundaries blur. It doesn't mean anything.

Ningning stretches her arms over her head. "What are you pissed for? There's like, so much space."

"I need the whole floor to go full out," you say, gesturing vaguely to the room. "I'm working on that new combo."

Karina snorts without looking up from her phone. "Yeah, because you need the entire studio to practice the same eight-count for an hour."

Ningning laughs, then tilts her head slightly. "You wanna dip with us instead?" Her blonde-tinted waves fall over one shoulder as she shifts to look up at you, dark eyes expectant.

You're instantly torn. Dance has made you disciplined—fit, clean, and sharp on the floor—and that same discipline usually keeps your grades steady. Usually. But there was that chem test last week. And the English paper you turned in late. And now Bio tomorrow, which you're definitely not prepared for.

"Can't," you say, even as your eyes drift to where Karina's top meets the waistband of her sweatpants. "I've got a test next period. If I bomb another one, Coach will bench me for sure."

Karina finally looks up from her phone, golden-rimmed eyes locking with yours in the mirror. Your reflection stands tall behind theirs, and for a moment, the three of you make a symmetrical composition in the glass.

"That's cute," she says, a smirk playing at her lips. "Choosing bio over us." She shifts, her shoulder brushing against Ningning's, and something passes between them—some silent communication that makes Ningning bite her lower lip to suppress a smile.

"Pussy," Karina adds, the word landing soft but deliberate.

The question hangs in the air, and something in the atmosphere shifts. They're still draped against each other—Karina's head now resting on Ningning's shoulder, Ningning's fingers absently playing with the hem of Karina's top—but their attention is fully on you now. The casual indifference is gone, replaced by a focused intensity.

Karina's eyes narrow slightly, calculating. Ningning's lips part, just barely, like she's already anticipating your answer. The way they're looking at you makes your skin prickle with heat. It's the same look they get right before a performance—that blend of challenge and confidence that says they know exactly how good they are.

The logical part of your brain is still calculating how many points you need on tomorrow's test to maintain your eligibility for the showcase. You've already been warned about your grades. One more missed class and you might actually get suspended from the team. This isn't just about one bio test anymore.

But there's something about the way they're waiting, bodies still intertwined but faces turned toward you in perfect symmetry, that makes the decision feel momentous. Like this is some kind of turning point.

Your jaw ticks, just barely.

"Fuck it," you say finally, slinging your bag back over your shoulder. The relief on their faces is subtle but unmistakable, like you've passed some test you didn't know you were taking. "Say less."

The reason is simple, even if your GPA will suffer for it: you just wanted to hang with the two baddest girls at school. And when they both smile at you—Karina's slow and knowing, Ningning's bright and wicked—you can't bring yourself to regret it.

Not yet, anyway.

…

Ningning's house is just a short drive through the sprawl of suburban Southern California. By the time you arrive, all three of you are armed with Slurpees from a 7-Eleven pitstop—yours blue raspberry, Karina's cherry, and Ningning's a swirled mix of both that she sips like she's solved some great mystery of flavor.

Her room is exactly what you'd expect—a perfect blend of cozy and chaotic. Fairy lights wrap around the ceiling fan, with climbing ivy trailing down from the fixture, casting soft shadows across the walls. Posters cover nearly every inch of white space—Frank Ocean, SZA, Tyler the Creator, Tate McRae, Billie Eilish—with a round mirror breaking up the collage. Monstera plants thrive in the corner next to a small white bookshelf. The whole space glows in the afternoon light filtering through the windows.

You settle on the carpet, back against her bed, Slurpee in one hand, a bag of sour gummy worms in the other. But Karina? She's sitting directly on Ningning's lap, legs draped over hers, body leaned back lazily against Ningning's chest like they've done this a hundred times before. No hesitation, no awkwardness—just pure, easy closeness. They fit together the way bad bitches always do, like they know exactly how to take up space.

Leon Thomas hums from a speaker in the corner, his smooth vocals and the soft R&B bassline weaving into the atmosphere, just enough to fill the comfortable silence.

"Let's play a game," Karina says suddenly, her cherry-red nails tapping idly against Ningning's thigh.

"What kind of game?" You ask, already suspicious.

"Just questions. Truth only." Ningning grins, absently running her fingers through Karina's platinum hair. "I'll start easy. Who's the hottest on the team?"

You glance up from your drink, already knowing exactly where this is going. It's a setup. A trap.

You take a second, not too long, just enough to make it seem like you're actually considering your answer. But you know there's only one right response—the one even they would agree on.

"Chaewon."

"Fuck, such an obvious answer," Karina groans, throwing her head back dramatically. "She's so fucking hot."

"Ugh," Ningning adds, biting her lip. "I tried making out with her at Jungwoo's party last month and she wasn't feeling it. I almost died."

They exchange knowing looks, satisfied, like they'd already predicted your answer before you even opened your mouth. Karina leans back further into Ningning, reaching for her own Slurpee.

"Your turn," Ningning says, nodding at you.

You think for a moment. "Best dancer in the crew?"

"Me, obviously," Karina says without hesitation.

Ningning rolls her eyes but doesn't argue.

"Fair," you concede with a smile.

"My turn," Karina says, her voice dropping slightly. "Ever hooked up with anyone from the team?"

The question hangs in the air. It's an escalation, but not entirely unexpected.

"Yes," you answer, taking a sip of your Slurpee.

Their eyes widen simultaneously. "Who?" Ningning demands, leaning forward.

You shake your head. "That wasn't the question."

Karina narrows her eyes. "Sneaky. I respect it." She turns to Ningning. "That's definitely our next question."

"What about you two?" you ask, deflecting.

Karina shrugs. "Not with anyone from the team."

Something in her inflection makes you pause. "But with each other?"

They exchange a look, this one different—a silent communication you can't quite read. Without saying a word, Karina turns her head, meeting Ningning's eyes with a smirk. Ningning doesn't hesitate. She cups Karina's face and pulls her in, capturing her lips in a kiss that's anything but casual.

Jesusfuckwhat.

Karina's hand slides up to Ningning's neck, fingers tangling in her hair as their mouths move against each other. Ningning's other hand drifts down, boldly palming Karina's breast through her top. You watch, frozen, as Karina lets out the faintest sound against Ningning's lips.

Is this actually happening right now? Your throat goes dry as you try to process what you're seeing, your Slurpee forgotten in your suddenly tense grip.

When they finally part, Karina's lipgloss is smudged, and both are breathing heavier, their eyes dark when they turn to gauge your reaction. Neither says anything—they don't need to. The answer is written all over their flushed faces.

And they're just gonna act like that didn't happen? Like they didn't just—

"Your turn," Karina says, her voice noticeably huskier now, acting like she didn't just have her breast grabbed in front of you. "What's your biggest turn-on?"

You blink, trying to recalibrate. The game is apparently still on, despite the fact that your brain is still processing what you just witnessed.

You swallow. "Someone who takes control without asking."

Ningning smirks, running her thumb across her bottom lip to fix her smudged gloss. "Noted."

What the fuck is happening right now?

It's Ningning's turn, and she doesn't hesitate: "Who on the team did you hook up with?"

You consider lying, but decide against it. "Yujin."

That night in her car after the showcase. Her skin under your hands, the way she bit her lip to stay quiet...

"Shut the fuck up," Karina's jaw drops, her eyes widening with what looks suspiciously like jealousy. "Are you serious?"

"She's hot as fuck too, what the hell?" Ningning looks genuinely offended, sitting up straighter, dislodging Karina slightly. "How are you pulling the baddest girls and we didn't even know?"

Karina narrows her eyes. "When did this happen? And why didn't she tell anyone?"

Because she asked me not to tell anyone. Because it was just that one time. But you just shrug, enjoying their reactions more than you should.

The questions heat up rapidly.

"If you could do anything to anyone in this room right now, what would it be?" Karina asks, fingers now tracing patterns on Ningning's arm.

You consider your words carefully. "I'd rather show than tell."

"Bold," Ningning says with approval. "But you'll have to wait your turn."

"Ever watched porn with someone else?" Karina asks, changing tactics.

"No."

"Wanna start?" Ningning challenges, raising an eyebrow.

The game accelerates. Boundaries blur. Questions become increasingly explicit.

"Where's the riskiest place you've hooked up?"

"What's something you want to try but haven't yet?"

"Have you ever thought about either of us while getting yourself off?"

"If you could do anything to anyone in this room right now, what would it be?"

Your answers grow bolder. Theirs grow filthier. With each revelation, the space between you shrinks, though neither of them has moved from their position.

"Have you ever fantasized about being with two people at once?" Karina asks, no longer pretending this is just a game.

"Yes," you admit.

"Anyone specific in mind?" Ningning presses.

You look from one to the other, letting the silence answer for you.

With each answer, the air in the room grows thicker, charged, until Karina finally shifts on Ningning's lap to face you directly.

"You're pretty hot, you know that?" Her voice is smooth, casual, like she's just stating a fact. She doesn't look at you when she says it, just keeps tapping her nails, waiting to see how you react.

Ningning hums in agreement, finally meeting your gaze. "Especially when you dance."

You shift slightly, a near-imperceptible reaction, but they catch it. Of course they do. Dancers notice everything. The way your grip tightens slightly on your cup, the flicker of something unreadable in your eyes before you school your expression back into something neutral.

You keep your cool. You're unsure where this is going, but you don't back down.

Karina stretches her arms above her head, arching her back slightly against Ningning. The movement causes her top to ride up, exposing a sliver of skin at her waist. It feels too deliberate, too precise to be casual. Your mouth goes dry.

They know exactly what they're doing.

Ningning's hand settles on Karina's hip, fingers splayed possessively as she adjusts her position on her lap. You can't help but track the movement. The room suddenly feels ten degrees warmer, and you shift your position on the floor, grateful you're sitting cross-legged.

Karina takes a long sip of her Slurpee, her eyes never leaving yours over the rim of the cup. When she pulls away, she runs her tongue slowly over her cherry-stained lips, catching a drop.

Jesus Christ.

You blink rapidly, heart pounding against your ribs. Heat crawls up your neck, and you're acutely aware of every inch of your body—especially the parts now responding all too obviously to their performance.

They exchange one last look, a silent confirmation passing between them. Ningning's eyes darken slightly as she tilts her head, expression unreadable but sharp, like she's weighing something in her mind.

Then, just like that, she drops it.

"Yo, be honest, would you fuck both of us?"

Did she really just ask that?

The shift is immediate.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

Everything in the room feels different now—the air heavier, charged with something unspoken. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you process the question, trying to read their expressions for any sign they're messing with you.

You're caught between laughing it off or taking it seriously. But when you look at them, really look, you realize—

They're serious.

"Are you—" you start, voice catching slightly. "Is this for real?"

Instead of answering, Karina slides off Ningning's lap in one fluid motion, the kind of movement that reminds you why she's first in every formation. She kneels in front of you, close enough that you can smell her perfume—something expensive and subtle that's been driving you crazy all afternoon.

Her eyes never leave yours as her fingers find the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath to trace along your stomach. The touch sends electricity up your spine.

"We've been thinking about this since that showcase last month," Ningning says, her voice softer than usual as she moves to join Karina. "The way you danced that night..."

They were watching me?

Karina's mouth crashes into yours with unexpected hunger. It's not just a kiss—it's a claiming. Her tongue slides against yours, hot and insistent, tasting like the cherry Slurpee and something sweeter underneath. She sucks your bottom lip between her teeth, tugging just enough to make your breath catch. Her hands fist in your hair, pulling you closer, angling your head exactly how she wants it.

When she finally releases you, your lips are tingling, slick with her spit. You barely have time to gasp before Ningning turns your face toward her, her fingers digging into your jaw.

Her kiss is even more aggressive—open-mouthed and demanding. Her teeth graze your lip, biting down just hard enough to sting before soothing the spot with her tongue. You feel Karina's mouth on your neck now, sucking hard enough to leave marks, her hands shoving your shirt up roughly.

"Fuck," you breathe against Ningning's lips as Karina's nails rake down your chest.

Is this actually happening? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Without warning, Karina's hand finds the back of Ningning's neck, pulling her away from you. For a brief second, you think something's wrong—until they crash together right in front of you, mouths colliding in a kiss that's nothing short of filthy. Karina's tongue slides along Ningning's bottom lip before pushing inside, Ningning moaning into her mouth, hands gripping Karina's waist to pull her closer.

Your hands move on instinct, reaching out to touch them. Fingers grazing Karina's sides, palm flat against Ningning's lower back. They don't stop kissing, but Karina reaches blindly for your hand, guiding it higher along her body until you're cupping her breast through her top. Ningning breaks the kiss just long enough to suck in a breath when your other hand slides down to grip her ass.

They continue making out, but now it's a performance for you as much as it is for them. Karina bites Ningning's lower lip, tugging it between her teeth while looking directly at you. A string of saliva connects their mouths when they briefly part before diving back in, messier this time, wetter. Ningning's hand finds the back of your neck, keeping you close, letting you feel their breath, almost encouraging you to join.

When they finally pull apart, both their lips are swollen, shiny with spit. Ningning pulls you in for another kiss, the taste of Karina still on her tongue. You can taste both of them now, the flavors mingling as Ningning licks into your mouth with deliberate slowness. Karina's fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. She drags her tongue up your throat, teeth scraping along your pulse point.

Ningning's fingers twist in your hair, yanking your head back further to expose more of your neck. The sharp pull sends a jolt straight to your groin. She works her way down the opposite side from Karina, leaving a trail of bites and kisses that make your skin burn. You're trapped between them, their bodies pressing against you from both sides.

The sensation of their mouths—one on your neck, one on your collarbone, then trading places with practiced coordination—is overwhelming. Karina sucks your earlobe between her teeth while Ningning's tongue traces the hollow at the base of your throat.

Then they're kissing each other over your shoulder again, but it's nothing like the controlled display from earlier. This is raw, messy, desperate. Karina moans into Ningning's mouth, their tongues visibly sliding against each other. Ningning's hand is still in your hair, Karina's palm flat against your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat. You watch, transfixed, as Karina's teeth catch Ningning's bottom lip, as Ningning's fingers tighten in Karina's platinum hair.

"Get the fuck up," Karina breathes when they finally pull apart, her lips swollen, a flush spreading across her chest. She grabs the front of your shirt, hauling you to your feet.

Ningning's already pulling your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly aside. Her hands immediately explore your torso, fingers tracing the definition in your abs, your chest, your shoulders. Karina drops to her knees, working on your jeans, her knuckles deliberately dragging against your hardness through the denim.

"Goddamn," Ningning whispers, lips against your ear as her hands slide around to grip your ass. "Been wondering what you were hiding under those practice clothes."

"Sit," Karina commands, pushing you backwards until you hit the edge of the bed and drop down.

They stand before you, and for the first time, you get a moment to just... look. To really take them in.

Karina unzips her long-sleeve crop top with deliberate slowness, revealing an expanse of smooth skin inch by inch. Her collarbones cast delicate shadows, her shoulders slim but toned from years of dance. When the top finally falls away, the black lace of her bra is a stark contrast against her pale skin, barely containing her full chest. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her sweatpants, pushing them down her hips in one fluid motion, stepping out of them gracefully, her curves unmistakable even in the fading afternoon light.

Ningning watches your reaction to Karina, a smirk playing on her lips before she pulls her own shirt over her head. Her body is different—more delicate frame with gentle curves, her light blue bra a perfect complement to her fair skin. She stretches her arms overhead, an unnecessary movement that's purely for your benefit, showing off her slender waist and the subtle definition in her stomach. Her sweatpants come off next, revealing slim legs that somehow look even longer than they are.

They stand there for a moment, letting you drink them in. Karina in black lace, Ningning in light blue cotton that somehow looks just as sexy. Their dancer's bodies—Karina's fuller curves and Ningning's delicate frame—on full display.

Holy fucking shit. This cannot be real.

"Like what you see?" Ningning asks, head tilted, eyes dark with want.

Words fail you entirely. You just nod, mouth dry.

They move toward you in perfect tandem, the bed dipping as they climb on either side of you. The heat of their bodies is scorching against your skin. Karina's mouth finds your chest first, her tongue tracing a wet path from your collarbone down to your nipple. She bites down gently, watching your reaction through hooded eyes. Ningning works on the other side, her lips softer but no less insistent, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder.

Their hands explore every inch of you—Karina's nails scraping down your abs, Ningning's fingers tracing the V-line of your hips. You feel Karina's teeth against your ribs, leaving marks that will be visible tomorrow at practice. Ningning's tongue darts out to taste the salt on your skin, her hands gripping your biceps, feeling the muscles tense under her touch.

They work their way down your body with agonizing slowness. Karina's mouth blazing a trail along your stomach while Ningning's lips press against each vertebra of your spine. The dual sensation of their tongues—one hot against your abs, the other tracing the dimples at the small of your back��has you practically panting.

"Fuck, he tastes good," Karina murmurs against your skin, her words vibrating through you.

"Let me," Ningning replies, and suddenly they're trading places, Karina's weight shifting behind you while Ningning moves to kneel between your legs. She presses her mouth to your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your jeans.

Karina's breath is hot against the back of your neck, her full breasts pressed against your back, nipples hard even through the barrier of her bra. "You like that?" she whispers, her hands sliding around to your chest, fingers pinching your nipples just enough to make you hiss.

Ningning looks up at you from under her lashes, a wicked smile on her lips as she moves lower, her mouth now hovering just above the visible bulge in your jeans.

Karina slides around to your side, impatient. "Let's see what you're working with," she breathes, hunger evident in her voice.

Karina's mouth finds yours again, swallowing your groans as she continues to grind against you. Ningning turns your head, breaking the kiss so she can claim your mouth instead. You feel Karina's lips trail down your neck, your chest, moving lower with clear intent.

Their hands work at your jeans in tandem, Ningning popping the button open while Karina drags the zipper down with agonizing slowness. Karina's mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply as Ningning tugs your jeans down your thighs, taking your boxers with them. She pulls them completely off your legs, tossing them somewhere behind her, leaving you fully exposed as your cock springs free, harder than you can ever remember being, already leaking at the tip.

"Oh my god!," Karina breathes, breaking the kiss to look down, genuine surprise in her voice.

Ningning crawls back up, pushing Karina aside to get a better view. "Let me see," she demands, her eyes widening as she takes you in. "Goddamn."

"Fuck, no wonder Yujin kept quiet about this," Karina says, wrapping her hand around you, testing your girth with her fingers barely meeting around your shaft. "Selfish bitch kept this all to herself."

"I can't believe our first threesome is with a dick this good," Ningning murmurs, her eyes fixed on Karina's hand stroking you slowly. "Wish I'd known what you were hiding under those practice sweats."

Karina nods in agreement, her thumb collecting the bead of precum from your tip and smearing it down your length. "Goddamn, we picked the right guy to skip with today."

Their reactions send a surge of confidence through you. The power dynamic shifts—their impressed expressions giving you an unexpected edge in whatever game you've all decided to play.

Maybe I can handle these two after all.

Karina recovers first, her confidence returning as she slides back onto your lap, this time with just her underwear separating you from her heat. She takes your hands, guiding them deliberately to her body—one to her breast, the other to her hip—while leaning in to kiss you deeply. Her tongue slides against yours, claiming your mouth as she grinds down against your exposed cock, the thin fabric of her panties already soaked through.

"Touch me," she commands against your lips, and you don't need to be told twice. Your fingers knead her full breast, feeling the hardened nipple through the lace as your other hand grips her hip, guiding her movements against you. The wet patch of her panties drags against your length, the friction making you both groan.

"Fuck, your tits feel even better than they look," you murmur against her mouth, gaining confidence as you squeeze harder, making her gasp.

Ningning circles behind you, her knees bracketing yours on the bed. Her hands slide over your shoulders, down your chest, her lips finding your ear. "She thinks she's in charge," she whispers, her teeth grazing your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine, "but we both know better, don't we?" Her fingers pinch your nipples, the sharp pain making your cock twitch against Karina.

You're sandwiched between them—Karina's weight on your lap, her body rolling against yours in a perfect rhythm, the lace of her bra scraping against your chest as she moves, and Ningning pressed against your back, her breasts soft against your shoulder blades, her breath hot on your neck. Karina's mouth leaves yours to trail along your jaw, down your neck, sucking hard enough to mark you, while Ningning's hands roam lower, one sliding between you and Karina to wrap around your cock.

"Fuck," you hiss as her cold fingers encircle you, giving a slow, tight stroke that has your hips bucking involuntarily, pushing you deeper into her grip and harder against Karina's core.

Karina moans at the increased pressure, her head falling back, platinum hair cascading down her back as she rocks harder against you. The movement pushes your cock along her slit through the thin fabric, the head catching on her clit with each stroke.

"I knew you'd feel this good," Karina breathes, eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure as she watches your face, her lipstick smudged, her cheeks flushed. She takes your hand from her hip, guiding it between her legs, pressing your fingers against the soaked lace. "Feel what you're doing to me."

Your fingers press against her through the fabric, feeling the slick heat there. You can feel how swollen she is, how wet, even through the barrier. You rub your thumb in slow circles, watching her face contort with pleasure.

"Goddamn," you breathe, feeling her wetness seep through the lace onto your fingers. "You're fucking soaked."

"Can you blame me?" she says, grinding harder against your hand, her movements becoming less coordinated as pleasure builds. "Who knew you were hiding all this..." She gasps as your thumb presses harder, her eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

Ningning's hand continues to stroke you, her grip tightening just beneath the head on each upstroke, twisting slightly in a way that has your thighs tensing. Her teeth find the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting down hard enough to make you groan. "Don't forget about me," she whispers, her other hand reaching around to pull Karina's face toward her.

They kiss over your shoulder, messy and aggressive, all tongues and teeth, while their hands continue to work you both. You watch, entranced, as Karina moans into Ningning's mouth, her hips still moving against your hand, Ningning's fingers still wrapped tight around your cock.

The image of them kissing while touching you, while grinding against you, is almost enough to push you over the edge right there. You feel the familiar tightening, the building pressure. Ningning must sense it because she squeezes the base of your cock, staving off your orgasm.

"Not yet," she breathes against Karina's lips. "I want more than just my hand on him."

Karina pulls back from the kiss, lips swollen and wet. "Greedy bitch," she says, but there's no real heat behind it, just desire. She grinds against you one more time, the friction delicious but not enough, before lifting herself off your lap.

Before you can process what's happening, Karina drops to her knees between your legs, shoving them apart roughly. Her nails dig into your thighs as she positions herself, looking up at you through her lashes, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

"Hold on," she says, sitting back on her heels. She reaches behind her head, gathering her platinum hair in her hands. The movement lifts her chest, her arms raised, exposing the soft skin of her armpits and stretching the fabric of her bra against her breasts. She works quickly, twisting her hair into a messy bun at the top of her head.

The sight of her—arms raised, back arched slightly, body on display—makes your cock twitch with anticipation. She catches your reaction and smirks, knowing exactly what she's doing.

"Fuck, I need to taste it," she murmurs, her breath hot against your length. She runs her tongue from the base to the tip in one long, slow stroke, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When she reaches the head, she pulls back slightly, letting a string of saliva fall from her lips onto your cock. She works it in with her hand, coating you before wrapping her lips around the tip, sucking hard enough to hollow her cheeks.

Ningning watches intently from beside you, her hand absently stroking your thigh. As Karina works you deeper into her mouth, Ningning reaches behind her own back, unclasping her light blue bra. She slides the straps down her arms slowly, revealing her small, perfect breasts, the nipples already hard.

Your hand instinctively reaches for her, palm cupping the soft weight, thumb brushing over the hardened peak. She sighs at your touch, leaning into your hand as she watches Karina suck you.

The sight alone is almost enough to make you cum—Karina, the girl half the guys at school would kill to talk to, on her knees with your cock in her mouth, her platinum hair pulled up to give you a perfect view, while your hand explores Ningning's bare breast.

Karina takes you inch by inch, her tongue pressed flat against the underside, creating delicious pressure as she sucks. Her hand works what doesn't fit, twisting in tandem with her mouth's movements, spit already making her fingers glide smoothly along your shaft. You feel the vibration of her moan around you as she takes you deeper, the hot, wet pressure of her mouth making your toes curl.

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips still brushing against your tip. "Fuck, you taste so good," she breathes, her eyes heavy-lidded with genuine pleasure. "Better than I thought you would."

She descends again, moaning around your length in a way that tells you she's enjoying this just as much as you are. The vibrations from her throat send shockwaves of pleasure through your cock.

"Jesus Christ," you breathe, your free hand instinctively going to Karina's hair, tangling in the loose strands that frame her face. She moans around you as you tug slightly, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure up your spine.

Just as you're settling into the sensation, she's yanked backward, Ningning's hand fisted in her hair, pulling hard enough to make Karina yelp.

"My turn," Ningning says, her voice sharper than before, edged with hunger. She moves between your legs, but first reaches behind Karina, unhooking her bra with practiced ease. "Take this off. I want to see you."

Karina complies, shrugging the black lace from her shoulders, her full breasts bouncing slightly as they're freed. Your mouth goes dry at the sight—both of them now topless, their dancer's bodies on full display.

Ningning sits back momentarily, mimicking Karina's earlier motion as she gathers her hair, arms raised above her head, body stretched long and lean. The position emphasizes the delicate curve of her waist, the subtle definition of her stomach. She secures her hair in a high ponytail, a few strands falling to frame her face.

"Much better," she says, settling between your legs. Rather than starting slow, she spits directly onto your cock, the warm saliva dripping down your length, trickling over your balls in a sensation that makes you shiver. She spreads it with both hands, stroking you a few times before wrapping her lips around you.

The first slide of her mouth around you is electric—different from Karina's technique, more aggressive from the start. She takes you deep immediately, your tip hitting the back of her throat, the muscles there contracting around you in a rippling sensation that makes your vision blur momentarily. You feel every millimeter of her throat closing around your head, squeezing in a way that's almost too intense.

She pulls back, gasping for air, but her eyes are bright with excitement. "Fuck, you're so big," she breathes, stroking you with her hand. "Feel so fucking good stretching my throat." She dives back down with enthusiasm, humming in satisfaction as she takes you deep again, the vibrations traveling through your entire length.

Karina moves to your side, pressing her now bare chest against your arm. Your hand immediately finds her breast, significantly fuller than Ningning's, the nipple stiff against your palm. You squeeze gently, drawing a soft moan from her as she watches Ningning take you deep.

The dual sensation is overwhelming—Ningning's hot mouth around your cock, taking you deeper than Karina had, her throat constricting rhythmically around your tip with each swallow, while your hands explore Karina's body, feeling the softness of her skin, the firmness of her breast in your palm.

This is not real life. This cannot be real life.

The sight of Ningning on her knees, lips stretched wide around your cock, eyes watering slightly as she takes you to the back of her throat, is almost too much. Her technique is different from Karina's—less teasing, more focused on depth and suction, her hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks. Each time she pulls back, you feel the cool air against your saliva-slick skin for just a moment before she descends again, taking you impossibly deep.

Karina presses closer, guiding your hand to her breast again while she watches Ningning work. Your fingers pinch her nipple lightly, drawing a soft gasp from her that turns into a smile. She leans in to kiss your neck, her teeth grazing your pulse point as Ningning continues to suck you, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room.

"You're doing it wrong," Karina says after a minute, tugging Ningning's hair hard enough to make her release you with a wet pop, a thick string of saliva still connecting her lips to your glistening cock. She moves between your legs, gently pushing Ningning to the side.

Ningning doesn't move far. Instead, she shifts to your other side, pressing her small, firm breasts against your arm, guiding your hand to touch her as Karina had done. The contrast between them is striking—Karina's fuller, heavier breasts against Ningning's smaller, perkier ones, both equally perfect in different ways.

Your hands explore their bodies as they continue taking turns with your cock—feeling the taut muscles of their dancer's bodies, the softness of their breasts, the hardness of their nipples against your palms. Karina arches into your touch, more vocal in her enjoyment, while Ningning responds with subtle shifts of her body, pressing herself harder against your hand.

Karina pushes Ningning aside, but instead of taking you directly into her mouth, she gathers saliva and lets it fall in a long, obscene strand onto your cock. The warm wetness slides down your shaft, pooling at the base and dripping onto your balls, the sensation making your cock twitch visibly. She spreads it with both hands, one working the shaft while the other focuses on the head, applying more pressure on the upstroke. Her technique is more deliberate—twisting motions, varying pressure, her thumb occasionally swiping over the sensitive spot just beneath the head.

"Watch and learn," she tells Ningning before taking just the tip between her lips, sucking firmly while her hands continue their assault, working you with practiced precision. Each stroke is wetter than the last, her spit making obscene squelching sounds as she pumps you. You feel the suction of her mouth intensifying as she hollows her cheeks, the pressure building at the base of your spine.

She releases you with a gasp, her eyes glazed with arousal. "So fucking good," she moans, jerking you faster. "Love how you throb in my mouth." She's not performing anymore—the pleasure in her voice is raw and genuine as she takes you in again, moaning around your length like she's tasting something delicious.

Not to be outdone, Ningning moves closer. "Let me show you how it's really done," she says, nudging Karina to share. She gathers a mouthful of saliva and lets it drip directly onto your cock where Karina's hands are still working, the added wetness making the glide even smoother. The warm spit runs down to your balls, the tickling sensation making your thighs tense.

Then she ducks lower, her mouth finding your balls. She takes one gently between her lips, sucking lightly while Karina continues working the shaft, their combined efforts making your head spin. The contrast between Karina's firm strokes and Ningning's gentle suction creates a dual sensation that has you groaning, your hands tangling in the sheets.

Ningning hums against your sensitive skin, the vibration traveling up your shaft. "Mmm, I can feel you getting closer," she purrs, her breath hot against your balls. "Getting harder for us." She sucks again, moaning like she's savoring the taste and feel of you, her enthusiasm unmistakable.

Karina watches Ningning with growing arousal, her own breathing heavy. "He tastes so fucking good," she tells Ningning, almost reverently. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"Fuck," you groan, hips lifting involuntarily, the muscles in your stomach clenching. "This really your guys' first threesome? There's no fucking way you're both this perfect at this."

They exchange a look, something passing between them that you can't quite read. Then, without warning, they both move at once. Karina releases your cock from her grip, allowing Ningning to take you deep into her throat in one smooth motion, her nose pressing against your stomach as she swallows around you. The tight squeeze of her throat has you seeing stars, the rhythmic contractions milking your length as she holds herself there, her eyes watering from the effort. You hear a muffled moan vibrating around your cock as she takes you, a sound of pure pleasure that makes your hips buck involuntarily.

The sensation is indescribable—hot, wet pressure surrounding every inch of you, her throat muscles rippling involuntarily around your head, her tongue pressed flat against the underside of your shaft. You feel yourself hit the back of her throat and then push beyond, into the tighter passage that spasms around you.

When she pulls back for air, a thick strand of spit connects her lips to your cock. Before it can break, Karina leans forward, connecting her mouth to Ningning's through the spit strand, the two of them sharing a messy kiss with your cock between them. Their tongues visibly slide against each other, spit passing between their mouths before both turn their attention back to your cock.

"Holy shit," you breathe, unable to look away as they kiss, their tongues visibly sliding against each other, spit passing between their mouths before both turn their attention back to your cock.

Now they work in tandem, taking turns—Karina sucking the head while Ningning strokes the shaft with spit-slicked hands, then switching, Ningning taking you deep while Karina's hands massage your balls. The constant switching, the different pressures and sensations, the visual of them trading your cock between their mouths, is mind-bending.

Karina pulls off with a gasp, a line of spit connecting her bottom lip to your cock. Ningning immediately takes her place, but not before Karina spits directly onto your length, adding to the mess. Ningning works the extra wetness in with her hand before taking you deep again, her eyes watering as she pushes past her gag reflex.

The competition escalates further. Karina yanks Ningning off by her hair, replacing her mouth with her own. She takes you as deep as she can, gagging slightly but pushing through it, determined to outdo Ningning. When she comes up for air, Ningning is ready with another gob of spit, this time letting it fall into Karina's open mouth. Karina takes it, letting it mix with her own saliva before dripping it all onto your cock.

"Fuck," you groan, watching the exchange with wide eyes. The sight of Karina's mouth open, receiving Ningning's spit, then the combined wetness falling onto your cock, is filthier than anything you've ever seen.

They're getting progressively sloppier, wetter, messier with each passing minute. Ningning holds your cock at the base, pointing it toward Karina's waiting mouth, but before Karina can take you in, Ningning spits onto the head. Karina smiles, working the wetness in before adding her own spit, creating a growing puddle of saliva that drips down onto your balls.

The visual is obscene—both of their faces are wet with spit, their lipstick long gone, hair messed up from where you've grabbed it, eyes dark with desire as they work you between them. Your cock is coated in a sheen of their combined saliva, glistening in the fading light of Ningning's room.

The wetness is incredible—warm spit running down your shaft, pooling at the base, dripping onto your balls and beyond. Each stroke of their hands spreads it further, creating a slick, frictionless glide that has your toes curling. The sounds are just as filthy—wet suction, obscene slurping, the squelch of saliva between their fingers as they stroke you.

Then they change tactics. Instead of taking turns, they position themselves on either side of your cock. Karina takes the head into her mouth while Ningning works the shaft with her tongue, both of them moving in a synchronized rhythm that has your thighs tensing. You feel the different textures—Karina's soft lips sealed around your tip, the suction of her mouth pulling at you, while Ningning's tongue traces patterns along your shaft, occasionally dipping lower to tease your balls.

When they switch, it's seamless—Ningning taking the head while Karina's tongue traces patterns along the underside. Their eyes meet over your cock, some unspoken competition still driving them, but now they're working together to destroy you completely.

"He tastes so fucking good when he's about to cum," Karina whispers to Ningning, her voice raspy with desire. "Can you taste it?"

Ningning nods, her lips never leaving your skin. "Mmm, getting saltier," she agrees, moaning as she takes you into her mouth again. She pulls off with a wet pop. "Love how he twitches on my tongue."

Their obvious enjoyment, the way they're talking about you like you're some delicious treat they can't get enough of, pushes you even closer to the edge.

The most obscene moment comes when they both press their open mouths to either side of your shaft, essentially making out with each other with your cock between their lips. Their tongues slide against your skin and occasionally touch each other, sharing spit as they work you from base to tip. The sensation of both their tongues, both their mouths, both their breaths against your most sensitive skin has your head spinning.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you groan, your hands fisting in the sheets, hips lifting involuntarily. "I'm gonna—"

"Not yet," Karina says, pulling back, her hand squeezing the base of your cock hard enough to stave off your orgasm. Her lips are swollen, her chin and chest slick with spit and precum. "We're just getting started with you."

Ningning's eyes are dark with want as she looks up at you, her mouth and chin equally wet, a strand of saliva still connecting her bottom lip to the side of your cock. "We haven't even decided who goes first," she says, her voice raspy from taking you so deep.

Karina wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze predatory. "And I'm not done showing off what I can do with my mouth."

Is this actually my life right now? How the fuck did I end up here?

The tension between your need to cum and their determination to edge you builds to a breaking point. Just as you think you can't take anymore, Ningning makes a decisive move, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you backward onto the bed.

"My turn to feel good," she announces, climbing up your body with predatory grace. Her small, perfect breasts hang above you as she straddles your chest, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your torso. "Scoot back," she commands, waiting for you to shift until your head is properly on the bed.

Without hesitation, she moves forward, positioning herself directly over your face. Through the thin fabric of her panties, you can see how wet she is, a dark patch spreading across the cotton. The scent of her arousal hits you—sweet and musky and intoxicating.

"Show me what you did to Yujin," she demands, lowering herself until her covered core is just inches from your mouth.

You reach up, hooking your fingers into the sides of her panties, pulling them to the side to expose her completely. The sight of her pussy makes your mouth water—she's got a neat landing strip of dark hair leading down to otherwise perfectly bare lips. The contrast of the carefully maintained strip against her pale skin speaks to her personality—controlled yet still wild underneath. Her folds are delicate, pink and glistening with arousal, already swollen and parted slightly, revealing the deeper pink within. She's absolutely soaked, her wetness visible from her entrance all the way up to her small, perfect clit that peeks out from beneath its hood.

"Fuck, you're pretty," you murmur before lifting your head to run your tongue through her slit in one long, firm stroke, tasting her fully for the first time.

"Shit," she gasps, her thighs trembling slightly as she grips the headboard for support.

You continue exploring her with your tongue, learning what makes her breath hitch and her thighs quiver. You trace around her entrance, gathering her wetness before moving up to circle her clit, alternating pressure and speed to keep her guessing.

Meanwhile, Karina hasn't forgotten about your cock. You feel her mouth envelop you again, picking up where they left off, but with a new urgency. She takes you impossibly deep, her throat constricting around your head as her hands massage your balls.

"Don't forget about me down here," she whines when she comes up for air, her hand replacing her mouth as she strokes you firmly. "Just because she's getting your tongue doesn't mean I'm done with your cock."

The dual sensation—Ningning's wetness on your tongue, Karina's mouth and hand working your length—creates a sensory overload that makes your head spin. You grip Ningning's thighs, pulling her more firmly against your face, your tongue diving deeper into her heat.

"Fuck, your tongue is fucking insane," Ningning moans, her hips beginning to roll against your mouth with more purpose. "The way you—shit—the way you flick it right there."

You focus your attention on her clit, alternating between fast flutters and firm circular motions, watching her reactions to learn exactly what drives her wild. Her thighs tense and tremble around your head, her breathing becoming more labored.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she chants, grinding herself shamelessly against your face now. "Your fucking tongue, holy shit—don't stop, please don't stop."

From below, you hear and feel Karina's response—the wet suction of her mouth intensifies, her pace increasing to match your efforts on Ningning. The competition continues, each trying to divert your attention and pleasure to themselves.

"He's already shaking," Karina observes after pulling off your cock with a wet pop, her hand continuing to stroke you firmly. "His cock gets harder every time you moan, Ning."

Ningning looks down between her legs at you, then back over her shoulder at Karina. Without breaking the rhythm of her hips against your mouth, she reaches back with one hand. Karina meets her halfway, their fingers intertwining in a brief moment of unity despite their ongoing competition.

"Fuck, I think I could die on his tongue," Ningning confesses, her voice thick with pleasure but not quite at the breaking point. "No wonder Yujin kept coming back."

You feel a surge of pride at her words, doubling your efforts, flattening your tongue to provide a broad surface for her to grind against while occasionally dipping into her entrance. Her taste is addictive—tangy and sweet with a hint of something uniquely her. Your chin and lips are completely coated in her arousal now, the obscene wetness making filthy sounds with each movement.

As amazing as it feels having Ningning on your face, you're acutely aware of Karina working diligently between your legs, her mouth and hands tag-teaming your cock with relentless precision. Each time you feel yourself getting close, she backs off just enough, squeezing the base or slowing her rhythm to keep you right on the edge.

"You taste so fucking good," you murmur against Ningning's pussy, the vibration of your words making her gasp. "Could eat you for hours."

"Please," she whimpers, her body trembling with the effort of restraining her orgasm. She's close—you can feel it in the way her thighs tense, see it in the flush spreading across her chest, hear it in the pitch of her moans.

But before she can tip over the edge, you pull back slightly, easing the pressure on her clit, focusing instead on long, slow strokes through her folds. Her frustrated groan makes you smile against her wet flesh.

"Evil," she hisses, recognizing what you're doing—giving her just enough to keep her on the edge but not enough to push her over.

Two can play at that game.

You feel a newfound confidence swelling within you. Making Ningning tremble above you while Karina worships your cock below has awakened something primal and commanding. You're done being the passive recipient of their attention.

You grip Ningning's hips firmly, lifting her off your face despite her whine of protest. "Move," you tell her, your voice rougher than usual. "I want to try something else."

Ningning slides off you reluctantly, her chest heaving, lips swollen from biting them to hold back her moans. Karina looks up from between your legs, her chin wet with spit, eyes questioning.

"Get on your hands and knees," you tell Karina, sitting up and pointing to the middle of the bed. "Facing Ningning."

Karina's eyebrows raise, a slight smirk playing on her lips, but she complies, crawling into position on all fours across the bed. Her platinum hair falls around her face as she looks up at Ningning, who's watching this shift in dynamic with undisguised interest, still breathing heavily from her near-orgasm.

You position yourself behind Karina, taking a moment to appreciate the view—the elegant curve of her spine, the swell of her ass, the way her hair cascades down her back. You run your hands over her skin, feeling the goosebumps that rise in the wake of your touch.

With deliberate slowness, you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her thighs. The reveal is exquisite—unlike Ningning's landing strip, Karina is completely bare, her pussy smooth and flawlessly waxed. Her lips are fuller than Ningning's, her pink folds more pronounced, glistening with an abundance of arousal that's already begun dripping down her inner thighs. She's swollen with need, her entrance visibly pulsing as you watch.

"Fuck, look at you," you breathe, running a finger through her slick folds, collecting her wetness. She's so wet it makes an obscene sound, a lewd squelch that fills the room. "Soaked just from sucking my cock."

Karina looks back at you over her shoulder, eyes dark with want. "What are you waiting for?" she challenges, but the slight tremble in her voice betrays her desperation.

You grip your cock, still slick with their combined spit, and drag it through her folds, coating yourself in her wetness. The head catches on her clit, making her gasp and arch her back further.

"Please," she whispers, and the vulnerability in that single word hits you hard.

"Look at Ningning," you command, waiting until she turns her head forward.

Ningning has positioned herself cross-legged in front of Karina, close enough to touch, her eyes darting between Karina's face and your cock poised at her entrance.

This is it. This moment. After all the teasing, all the build-up, you're finally about to be inside one of them. The significance isn't lost on you—or them, judging by the anticipation crackling in the air.

You position yourself at her entrance, gripping her hips firmly with both hands, and then thrust forward in one smooth, relentless motion, burying yourself to the hilt inside her.

"Fucking hell!" Karina cries out, her arms nearly buckling from the sudden intrusion. She's impossibly tight around you, hot and wet and perfect. Her inner walls grip you like a vise, pulsing around your length in a way that nearly makes you cum on the spot.

"Goddamn," you hiss through clenched teeth, fighting for control. "So fucking tight."

You hold still for a moment, both to let her adjust and to regain your composure. The sensation is overwhelming—better than anything you could have imagined. Better than Yujin, better than anyone you've been with before.

Slowly, you pull back until just the tip remains inside, watching your length emerge coated in her arousal, before driving back in with deliberate force. She makes a choked sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, her fingers clutching desperately at the sheets.

"Eat her out," you command Karina, nodding toward Ningning. "Show her what that pretty mouth can do."

Ningning's eyes widen at your directive, but she doesn't hesitate. She scoots closer, positioning herself so her pussy is directly in front of Karina's face. Karina leans forward eagerly despite the distraction of your cock still pumping into her, her tongue darting out to taste Ningning.

You establish a rhythm, your hips meeting Karina's ass with increasingly forceful thrusts. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room, mixing with Karina's muffled moans against Ningning's pussy and Ningning's sharper gasps.

"That's it," you encourage, your hand sliding up Karina's spine before tangling in her platinum hair, pulling just enough to arch her back further. "Make her feel good while I fuck you."

The visual is pornographic—Karina on all fours, her face buried between Ningning's thighs, her ass raised high as you pound into her from behind. Your cock glistens with her arousal each time you pull back, her wetness making the glide effortless despite how tightly she grips you.

"Fuck, she's good with her tongue too," Ningning moans, her hand coming down to grip Karina's hair, holding her firmly in place. "Not as good as you, but still—ah!—still fucking amazing."

The praise spurs Karina on, making her work harder to prove herself. You can feel her determination in the way she pushes back against your thrusts, meeting you halfway, taking you impossibly deeper.

You bring your hand down on her ass in a sharp slap, watching the flesh jiggle and redden under your palm. Karina jerks forward with a muffled cry, her inner walls clenching around your cock in response.

"You like that?" you ask, doing it again, harder this time.

Her answering moan, vibrating against Ningning's core, is all the confirmation you need. You develop a rhythm—thrust, slap, thrust, slap—each impact making her tighten around you, each moan making Ningning gasp.

"Fuck, don't stop," Ningning pants, her hips rolling against Karina's face with increasing urgency. "She gets better every time you spank her—fuck!—it's like she's trying to earn it."

You can tell they're both getting close, teetering on the edge of release. Karina's pussy is gripping you with almost painful intensity, fluttering with each thrust in a way that signals her approaching orgasm. Ningning's thighs are trembling, her chest flushed, her breathing ragged as she grinds against Karina's eager mouth.

But you're not ready for this to end. Not yet.

You pull out of Karina suddenly, making her whine against Ningning's pussy. At the same time, you reach forward to pull her away from Ningning, denying them both their release.

"Not yet," you tell them, your voice rough with desire but commanding in a way that surprises even you. "I'm not done with either of you."

They both look at you with identical expressions of frustration and arousal—lips swollen, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed. Karina's mouth and chin glisten with Ningning's arousal, while Ningning's thighs are visibly trembling from how close she was.

"Don't forget about me," Ningning says, her eyes fixed on your cock, still hard and slick with Karina's juices. "I want to feel that too."

"You had his mouth," Karina argues, turning to glare at her friend despite her breathlessness. "My turn to have something."

"Your pussy isn't the only one that needs attention," Ningning shoots back, crawling closer to you. "He obviously likes how I taste better anyway."

"Bullshit," Karina scoffs, reaching for your cock possessively. "He was practically shaking inside me. Weren't you?" She looks up at you, seeking confirmation.

The competition between them reignites, both vying for your attention, both desperate to be the one who makes you lose control first. But you've found your footing in this dynamic now, no longer overwhelmed by their beauty or intimidated by their confidence.

You know exactly what you want to do next.

After pounding into Karina with increasingly forceful thrusts, your control begins to waver. The wet heat of her pussy, the sight of her platinum hair bouncing with each impact, the obscene sounds of your bodies meeting—it's all becoming too much.

"Fuck," you growl, suddenly pulling out completely with a lewd, wet sound. Your cock springs free, glistening with her arousal, bobbing heavily in the air between you. Karina whimpers at the loss, looking back at you over her shoulder with confusion and frustration in her eyes.

You take a deep breath, fighting for composure, and shift backward until you're settled against the headboard. Your cock stands at full attention, slick with Karina's arousal, veins prominent against the flushed skin, pulsing visibly with each heartbeat.

"Get over here," you command, voice rough with barely restrained desire. "Both of you."

The frustration on both their faces at being denied release only heightens your newfound confidence. Their flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and desperate eyes tell you everything you need to know—they're as close to the edge as you are.

"Ningning," you command, your voice leaving no room for argument. "Come ride me. Karina, you're on ball duty."

Their eyes widen at your sudden assertiveness, but neither hesitates. Ningning practically scrambles toward you, her small breasts bouncing with the movement, eyes dark with hunger. She straddles your thighs, positioning herself above your cock, while Karina crawls between your spread legs, her platinum hair falling around her face as she looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and arousal.

Holy shit, who am I right now? When did I start giving orders to the two baddest girls at school?

You take a moment to truly look at Ningning hovering above you—her skin glistens with a fine sheen of sweat, making her body gleam in the scattered light. Droplets trail down between her breasts and along the defined lines of her dancer's abdomen. Her dark hair, once perfectly styled, now falls in messy strands around her face where it's escaped her ponytail. The contrast of her disheveled appearance against her usually perfect composure makes your cock throb with anticipation.

You reach up to trace the elegant curve of her collarbone, your finger dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat where sweat has pooled. Impulsively, you lean forward to lick the salt from her skin, dragging your tongue along the defined ridge before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. She gasps at the sensation, her hands gripping your shoulders for balance.

"You taste fucking incredible," you murmur against her skin, your lips moving down to capture a bead of sweat trickling between her breasts. "Even your sweat is sweet."

Her head falls back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat as you continue to explore her body with your mouth. Your hands roam freely, cupping her small, firm breasts, feeling the weight of them in your palms, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. They're incredibly responsive, stiffening further at your touch, drawing a whimper from her lips.

"Please," she whispers, her voice so different from her usual confident tone. "Need to feel you inside me now."

Ningning hovers above you, her entrance just brushing against your tip, teasing you both. You've had enough teasing. Your hands grip her narrow waist, fingertips digging into her soft skin as you pull her down onto your length in one forceful motion.

"Oh fuck!" she cries out, her body going rigid as you fill her completely. She's even tighter than Karina, her walls gripping you like a vise, her heat enveloping you in a way that makes your vision blur momentarily.

Her pussy feels different from Karina's—tighter, with more texture, gripping you in rhythmic pulses that suggest years of dance have strengthened muscles you're now benefiting from. Every tiny movement sends lightning through your nerve endings.

This cannot be real life. There's no way I'm inside Ningning right now with Karina watching. No fucking way.

You feel Karina's presence below, her breath hot against your thighs as she watches Ningning take you. The anticipation of her mouth on you while you're buried inside Ningning makes your cock swell even harder.

"Move," you growl, your hands still gripping Ningning's waist, guiding her into a rhythm. She begins to ride you, her hips rolling with a natural fluidity that showcases her dancer's body. Unlike Karina's more controlled movements, Ningning rides you with complete abandon, her head thrown back, small breasts bouncing with each drop of her hips.

Your hands slide from her waist to her ass, squeezing the firm globes, feeling the muscles flex and contract as she moves. Her skin is impossibly soft despite the toned muscle beneath. You spread her wider, your fingers digging into the supple flesh, controlling her movements even as she sets the pace.

Sweat drips down her temple, following the curve of her jaw before trailing down her neck. You lean forward to catch it with your tongue, tasting the salt of her exertion, the evidence of how hard she's working on your cock. Her hair has come further undone, dark strands sticking to her damp neck and shoulders, the ponytail now hanging by a thread.

"Fucking hell, you're deep," she gasps, her internal muscles clenching around you as she adjusts to your size. "Shit, shit, shit."

You feel Karina's mouth on your balls, her tongue lavishing attention on the sensitive skin while Ningning continues to ride you. Her lips are impossibly soft, contrasting with the occasional graze of teeth that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She sucks one into her mouth, the wet heat surrounding you from below as Ningning envelops you from above.

The dual sensation—Ningning's tight heat surrounding your cock, Karina's wet mouth on your balls—creates a pleasure so intense you have to grit your teeth to maintain control. Your hands tighten on Ningning's ass, fingers dipping between the cheeks, exploring every inch of her.

"Look at you," Karina murmurs against your skin, her breath hot and teasing. "Already about to bust for her. Your balls are so tight."

She's not wrong—your entire body is wound like a spring, tension building with each drop of Ningning's hips, each swipe of Karina's tongue. You can feel the pressure building at the base of your spine, your thighs tensing with the effort of holding back.

Her observation spurs you to reassert control. You tangle one hand in Ningning's hair, finding the loose ponytail and wrapping it around your fist before yanking her head back sharply, exposing the elegant line of her throat. The remaining hair tie snaps, releasing a cascade of dark waves that fall around her shoulders. She gasps, her pussy clenching around you in response, her rhythm faltering momentarily.

"Fuck, I love when you pull my hair," she moans, her pace increasing, taking you deeper with each drop of her hips. Her nails dig into your chest, leaving crescent-shaped marks that sting deliciously, adding tiny crescents of pain to the overwhelming pleasure.

You pull her down to crush your mouth against hers, swallowing her moans as you thrust up to meet her movements. Her lips are swollen from earlier kisses, softer now, yielding to your assault. You taste yourself on her tongue, mixed with her own unique flavor and the lingering sweetness of the Slurpee from earlier. The combination is intoxicating.

Your free hand slides up her sweat-slicked back, feeling each vertebra, each ripple of muscle beneath her skin. You trace the definition of her shoulder blades, the delicate curve of her spine, the subtle dimples at her lower back. Her body is a masterpiece of lean muscle and subtle curves, honed by years of dance but still undeniably feminine.

Karina's not content to be forgotten. She moves from your balls to nip at Ningning's thighs, leaving small red marks that make Ningning jerk and gasp above you. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin where thigh meets ass, leaving a trail of light bruises that will remind Ningning of this moment for days to come.

Then she presses her tongue flat against the place where your bodies join, tasting both of you with each of Ningning's movements. The added stimulation makes Ningning shudder, her inner walls fluttering around you. Karina's tongue slides up to tease Ningning's asshole, circling the tight ring of muscle before dipping back down to where you're connected.

"Oh god," Ningning whimpers, the added stimulation nearly pushing her over the edge. Her movements become erratic, desperate, her inner walls fluttering around your length in warning.

You can feel how close she is—her thighs trembling against yours, her breathing shallow and rapid, her pussy contracting in those telltale rhythmic pulses that signal impending orgasm. Her eyes are unfocused, lips parted, a flush spreading from her cheeks down her neck to her chest.

Not yet. I'm finally in control here, and I'm not letting it end this fast.

You're not ready to let her finish yet. With a sudden burst of strength, you lift her off you entirely, eliciting a cry of protest that cuts off when you manhandle her to the side, practically throwing her onto the mattress beside you.

Her body bounces slightly with the impact, her hair splaying across the sheets like dark ink, chest heaving with exertion and denied release. Her skin is flushed pink, nipples tight peaks begging for attention, thighs still spread with the memory of having you between them. A thin sheen of sweat makes her entire body glisten, highlighting every curve, every muscle, every dip and hollow of her dancer's physique.

"My turn with Karina," you state, your voice rough with arousal but commanding enough that neither questions you.

Karina's eyes darken with desire as she moves to take Ningning's place, but you stop her with a hand on her shoulder. Her skin is hot to the touch, slightly damp with exertion, surprisingly soft despite the toned muscle beneath. You can feel her pulse racing beneath your palm.

"Get your ass up here," you direct, indicating your face. "Wanna taste you while you ride me."

Her breath catches, pupils dilating until her eyes are nearly black, a fresh wave of arousal evident in the way she presses her thighs together momentarily. She complies immediately, positioning herself over your face, facing your feet, while reaching back to guide your cock into her waiting heat.

The position allows you full access to her pussy with your mouth while she controls the depth and pace of penetration. The view is spectacular—her round ass hovering above your face, her slick, swollen pussy lips parted and ready, the perfect curve of her spine leading up to her platinum hair cascading down her back.

As she sinks down onto your length, you grip her hips, pulling her core against your mouth simultaneously, your tongue finding her clit with unerring precision. The taste of her explodes across your tongue—tangy, sweet, with an underlying muskiness that's uniquely hers, different from Ningning's flavor but equally intoxicating.

She cries out, her body jerking at the dual penetration, her inner walls clenching around you. You feel her thighs trembling on either side of your head, her weight shifting as she struggles to maintain balance in the face of such intense stimulation.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she chants, beginning to move on your cock while grinding against your mouth.

Where Ningning rode you with wild abandon, Karina's movements are calculated, controlled—each roll of her hips designed for maximum pleasure, each contraction of her inner muscles deliberate and devastating. She knows exactly how to angle herself to take you deepest, how to twist to hit her most sensitive spots, how to clench around you to create the perfect pressure.

Your hands roam her body, one gripping her hip to guide her movements, the other sliding up her sweat-slicked torso to find her breast. It fills your palm perfectly, heavier than Ningning's, the nipple stiff against your skin. You pinch it between your fingers, rolling it, tugging slightly, feeling her inner walls contract around your cock in response.

Your tongue works her clit relentlessly, circling the swollen bud before flattening against it, applying perfect pressure as she grinds down. Her taste becomes more intense as her arousal builds, her wetness coating your chin, dripping down your neck. You trace her entrance with your tongue, feeling where your cock stretches her, the tight ring of muscle yielding to your thickness.

That's the difference between them—Ningning all passion, Karina all precision. Both fucking incredible in completely different ways.

Ningning watches for a moment, her chest heaving, before moving to participate again. She positions herself beside your head, leaning down to whisper in your ear, her voice husky with arousal. Her breath is hot against your skin, her lips brushing your earlobe with each word, sending shivers down your spine.

"She thinks she can take you better than me," she murmurs, her hand trailing down to massage your balls as Karina continues to ride you. Her fingers are cool against your heated skin, gentle yet firm as they cup and roll, occasionally dipping lower to feel where you stretch Karina open. "But I had you deeper. I felt you throbbing inside me."

Karina hears her and responds with a particularly skillful twist of her hips that makes you groan against her flesh. The movement changes the angle, taking you impossibly deeper, her inner walls rippling along your length in a way that makes your toes curl.

"He's rock hard inside me," she shoots back, looking over her shoulder at Ningning with a triumphant smirk. Her platinum hair sticks to her sweat-dampened back in places, strands darkened by moisture. "Like, literally throbbing."

Their competitive banter continues as they trade positions again, this time with Ningning straddling you in reverse, her back to your chest. The view is spectacular—the elegant line of her spine, the subtle dimples at the small of her back, the perfect curve of her ass as she positions herself over your cock once more.

She sinks down slowly this time, savoring each inch as you fill her, her head falling back against your shoulder with a gasp when you're fully seated. Her hair, now completely free from its ponytail, spills all around you, tickling your chest, your neck, your face—dark, silky strands that smell faintly of coconut shampoo and her own unique scent.

Karina kneels beside you, her mouth finding your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with her tongue. The contrast of her platinum hair against your skin is stark, beautiful, the strands sticking to your sweat-dampened chest as she moves.

You grip Ningning's hips, guiding her movements as she rides you with increasing urgency, her head falling back against your shoulder. Your hands slide up her torso, feeling the taut muscles of her stomach contract with each movement, the delicate ribs beneath her soft skin, before finding her small, perfect breasts.

They fit perfectly in your palms, the perfect handful, nipples stiff against your fingers. You pinch them lightly, rolling them between your fingers, feeling her pussy clench around you in response. Your mouth finds the side of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that will be visible for days.

"Fuck, the way you fill me," she gasps, her hand reaching back to tangle in your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss over her shoulder. The angle is awkward but intensely erotic, her tongue sliding against yours as she continues to move on your cock.

Her body is a furnace against yours, heat radiating from every inch of her skin, her sweat mingling with yours where your chests press together. You can feel her heartbeat, rapid and strong, her pulse fluttering beneath your lips when you break the kiss to suck at the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

Karina's hand slips between Ningning's legs, her fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles that make Ningning's rhythm stutter. "Let me help you," she offers, her voice innocent but her eyes calculating as she watches Ningning respond to her touch.

It's not cooperation so much as an extension of their competition—each trying to prove they can give and receive pleasure better than the other. Still, the effect is the same: Ningning moaning loudly as Karina's fingers work her clit, her pussy clenching rhythmically around your length.

They might be competing, but holy shit does it work in my favor.

You break the kiss to watch them, fascinated by the shifting dynamic. Karina leans forward to capture Ningning's mouth in a passionate kiss, swallowing her increasingly desperate moans while continuing to work her clit. Their tongues visibly slide against each other, the kiss open-mouthed and filthy, a performance as much for your benefit as for their own pleasure.

Your hands slide to Ningning's ass, spreading her cheeks, feeling where your cock disappears into her tight heat. The visual of them kissing while Ningning rides you, Karina's fingers visible between her legs, is almost enough to push you over the edge.

Sweat drips down your temple, your chest, your back—every inch of you is damp with exertion, muscles burning with the effort of maintaining control. The room smells of sex now, the sweet musk of their arousal mixed with sweat and the faint coconut of Ningning's shampoo creating an intoxicating blend that fills your lungs with each ragged breath.

"Switch," you command, your voice strained with the effort of holding back your orgasm. "Karina on my cock, Ningning on my face."

They separate reluctantly, exchanging a look that speaks volumes before repositioning themselves according to your instructions. The brief moment it takes them to adjust gives you a chance to regain some control, your breathing ragged, your cock throbbing painfully with need.

Karina sinks down onto you with a satisfied sigh, her pussy still incredibly tight despite how wet she is. Ningning straddles your face, her thighs bracketing your head, her scent intoxicating as you pull her down onto your waiting tongue.

What happens next is the most seamless teamwork you've seen from them so far. Karina leans forward to kiss Ningning deeply, their breasts pressing together as they move in synchronized rhythm—Karina riding your cock with deliberate precision, Ningning grinding against your tongue with increasing desperation.

Their hands explore each other's bodies, pinching nipples, tangling in hair, tracing curves with obvious familiarity. It's clear this isn't the first time they've touched each other this way, but the addition of you between them brings a new intensity to their interactions.

They work together now, their earlier competition forgotten in favor of a united goal: pushing you past the point of control. Karina's inner muscles contract around you in waves, milking your length with expert precision. Ningning grinds against your tongue with shameless abandon, her wetness coating your chin, her thighs trembling on either side of your head.

"Fuck, he's gonna cum," Karina observes, feeling your cock swell and pulse inside her. "I can feel it."

The sensation is overwhelming—Karina's pussy gripping your cock like a vise, her inner walls rippling along your length with practiced control, while Ningning floods your mouth with her arousal, her taste growing stronger as she gets closer to her own release. You feel the familiar tightening at the base of your spine, the tension building in your balls, the telltale throb of impending orgasm.

Ningning looks down at you between her legs, her eyes dark with desire. "Not yet," she says, both to you and Karina. "We're not done with him."

They exchange another look, some silent communication passing between them, before they both lift off you simultaneously. The sudden loss of stimulation makes you groan in frustration, your cock twitching in the cool air, your mouth still chasing Ningning's retreating heat.

"What the fuck," you hiss, your voice rough with need.

Are they seriously edging me right now? After I was finally about to—

They smile at your frustration, identical expressions of satisfied mischief on their flushed faces. The power dynamic shifts again as they move to position themselves on either side of you, their hands trailing teasingly across your sweat-slicked skin.

Your body is hypersensitive now, every touch amplified tenfold. Karina's fingers along your ribs feel like fire, Ningning's breath against your neck like a physical caress. Your cock stands proudly between you, harder than it's ever been, the head swollen and purple, veins prominent against the shaft, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.

"We told you," Karina purrs, her fingers wrapping loosely around your aching cock, not providing nearly enough pressure. The touch is maddening—just enough to keep you on edge, not enough to provide relief. Her platinum hair falls across your chest as she leans over you, a few strands sticking to your sweat-dampened skin. "We're not done yet."

"You'll cum when we say," Ningning adds, her tongue darting out to flick across your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Her dark eyes hold yours as she does it again, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with her tongue. The contrast of sharp pain and soft pleasure makes your cock jerk in Karina's loose grip.

Your earlier dominance wavers in the face of their united assault, but you're not ready to surrender control completely. With a growl, you reach out, one hand tangling in Karina's platinum hair, the other gripping Ningning's hip hard enough to leave marks.

You feel the damp heat of Karina's scalp as you fist her hair, the moisture from her exertion making the strands cling to your fingers. On Ningning's hip, your fingers dig into the subtle curve, feeling the contrast of soft skin over firm muscle. Your grip is possessive, commanding, a clear statement that this power struggle isn't over yet.

"No," you state firmly, pulling Karina's face close to yours. Her platinum hair falls around you both like a curtain, individual strands clinging to the sweat on your face and neck. You can smell her shampoo—something expensive and floral—mixed with the musk of sex and the salt of her sweat. "I decide when this ends."

The authority in your voice makes both of them freeze, their eyes widening in surprise before darkening with renewed arousal. Karina's pupils dilate so completely her eyes look almost black, while Ningning's lips part on a shaky exhale.

"Yes, sir," Karina whispers, the unexpected honorific sending a shock of pleasure through your system. The word falls from her swollen lips with surprising naturalness, as if she's been waiting for the opportunity to say it.

Sir? Oh fuck, that's hot coming from her mouth.

Ningning nods her agreement, suddenly docile under your grip. "Whatever you want," she adds, her voice softer than you've heard it all day. The contrast between her usual sharp-tongued confidence and this new, yielding tone makes your cock throb painfully between you.

The surrender in their responses ignites something primal within you. You pull Karina into a bruising kiss, your teeth catching her lower lip hard enough to make her whimper. Her mouth opens immediately under yours, tongue sliding against yours in eager submission. Her platinum hair tangles around your fingers as you hold her in place, controlling the angle, the pressure, the depth of the kiss.

When you release her, her lips are even more swollen than before, a tiny drop of blood where your teeth caught her too hard. The sight of it—evidence of your intensity—makes something dark and satisfied unfurl in your chest.

You turn to Ningning, claiming her mouth with equal ferocity, your tongue pushing past her lips in a clear mimicry of what your cock has been doing to both of them. She yields immediately, moaning into the kiss, her small hand coming up to grip your bicep, feeling the muscle flex under her fingers.

The taste of them mingles on your tongue—Karina's cherry-sweetness, Ningning's slightly spicier flavor, both layered with the salt of sweat and the unique taste of their arousal from when they rode your face. The combination is intoxicating, driving you to deepen the kiss, to take more, to claim her completely.

You break the kiss, looking at them both with undisguised hunger. Their faces are flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with desire. Sweat makes their skin gleam in the fading afternoon light, highlighting the contours of their bodies—the swell of Karina's breasts, the elegant line of Ningning's collarbones, the defined muscles in both their stomachs from years of dance.

"Get on your backs," you command. "Side by side. Now."

They scramble to comply, positioning themselves as instructed, their earlier bratty competition replaced by eager compliance. They lie beside each other, legs spread, bodies on display for your approval. The contrast between them is striking—Karina's fuller curves and platinum hair against Ningning's more delicate frame and dark waves.

Both are covered in a fine sheen of sweat, their skin flushed pink with exertion and arousal. Ningning's small breasts rise and fall with her rapid breathing, the subtle definition in her stomach more visible now as she lies flat. Karina's fuller curves create shadows and valleys across her body, her platinum hair spread out across the pillow like spilled moonlight.

You move to kneel between them, looking down at the feast before you—Karina with her full breasts and perfectly waxed pussy, Ningning with her smaller, perkier breasts and neatly trimmed landing strip. Both of them flushed, breathing heavily, watching you with identical expressions of desperate need.

Your own body bears the marks of your encounter—small crescent-shaped indents from their nails, light bruises forming where their mouths have been too eager, sweat dripping down your chest and back. Your cock stands painfully erect between you, harder than you've ever been, throbbing with each heartbeat.

"Now," you say, your voice calm despite the fire raging through your veins, "let's see which one of you can take me better."

They exchange a glance—half challenge, half solidarity—before turning their attention back to you, waiting for whatever comes next.

I've got the two baddest dancers at school spread out for me. Bio test be damned—this is worth getting benched for.

And what comes next will test all three of you to your limits.

You move between them, your body radiating heat, muscles tense with anticipation. Your hand trails up Ningning's inner thigh, feeling her tremble beneath your touch, while you lean down to capture Karina's mouth in a hungry kiss.

"I want it first," Ningning demands, her voice a mixture of need and command. Her slender fingers wrap around your wrist, trying to guide your hand higher between her legs. The desperation in her tone sends a fresh surge of arousal through you.

Karina breaks the kiss, her breath coming in short pants against your lips. "Make him choose," she challenges, her eyes locked on Ningning's, then flicking back to yours. "Let's see who he really wants."

Jesus, even now they're competing. And I'm supposed to pick?

You pull back slightly, looking between them—both flushed, panting, their bodies on display just for you. An idea forms, something that will satisfy them both while maintaining your newfound control.

"I choose both," you state, your voice leaving no room for argument. "But I'm calling the shots."

Without warning, you move over Ningning, positioning yourself at her entrance. She's so wet you can see it glistening on her inner thighs, pooling slightly beneath her on the sheets. The head of your cock slides through her folds, gathering her arousal, the contact drawing a whimper from both of you.

When you finally push inside, the wet sound is obscene – a lewd squelch that echoes in the room, matching Ningning's sharp gasp as you stretch her open.

"Fuck, you're splitting me in half," she cries out, her back arching off the bed, small breasts pointing upward as you fill her completely. Her inner walls clamp down around you like a silken vise, rippling with involuntary spasms that nearly end you on the spot.

The sensation of her tight heat surrounding you again nearly makes your vision go white, but you hold on to your control by a thread, fingernails digging into your own palms as you fight the urge to come immediately.

You don't give her time to adjust, setting a brutal pace immediately, each thrust punctuated by the wet sound of her arousal and the sharp slap of your hips against the backs of her thighs. Her legs wrap around your waist instinctively, heels digging into your lower back, urging you deeper.

"God, don't stop," she gasps, each word punched out of her with your thrusts. Her hair splays across the pillow in dark waves, sticking to her sweat-slicked temples and cheeks. There's something almost painful in her expression as she takes you, a mixture of pleasure so intense it borders on agony.

You shift your angle, driving deeper, searching for that spot inside her that will make her fall apart. When your cock brushes against it, her reaction is immediate – her entire body seizes, back arching further, a broken sound torn from her throat.

"There! Right there!" she sobs, eyes wide and glassy, unfocused with pleasure. "Oh god, I'm gonna—"

But you haven't forgotten Karina. Your hand finds her core, two fingers sliding easily into her wet heat, thumb circling her clit with deliberate pressure. She gasps at the contact, hips bucking up to meet your hand.

"I need more than fingers," she demands, voice cracking with need as she watches you pound into Ningning. "She's hogging you."

You lean down, capturing one of Ningning's nipples between your teeth as you continue thrusting, the dual sensation making her cry out louder. The taste of her sweat-slicked skin is addictive – salt and something uniquely her that makes you want to lick every inch of her body.

Your fingers pick up speed inside Karina, curved perfectly to hit her g-spot while your thumb continues its assault on her clit. Her hips rise to meet each thrust of your hand, grinding against your palm, seeking more friction.

"I can feel how wet you are," you tell Karina, voice rough with exertion as you continue pounding into Ningning. "Soaked through. All for me."

Sweat pours down your back, drips from your forehead onto Ningning's chest, mingling with the perspiration already coating her skin. It slides between her small breasts, pooling in the hollow of her throat. Impulsively, you lean down to lick it away, tasting the salt on your tongue, feeling her pulse hammering beneath your lips.

The room fills with the sounds of your collective panting, moaning, the wet slap of flesh, the squelch of your fingers in Karina's pussy, the creak of the bed frame protesting your vigorous movements. The air is thick with the scent of sex – musky, primal, intoxicating.

Ningning's nails rake down your back, leaving burning trails that sting deliciously. Her inner walls flutter around you, signaling her approaching orgasm. Her eyes, which have been locked on yours, suddenly squeeze shut, brows drawing together in intense concentration.

"I can't—it's too—" she gasps, words failing her as pleasure overtakes her ability to form coherent thoughts.

You pull out suddenly, leaving her empty and gasping, hovering right at the edge of release. Before she can protest, you shift to Karina, removing your fingers from inside her only to replace them with your cock in one swift movement.

"Finally," Karina gasps, body arching up to meet your thrust. Her pussy welcomes you with a gush of wetness, the lewd sound filling the room as you bottom out inside her. She's different from Ningning—slightly less tight but wetter, hotter, inner walls undulating around your length in deliberate pulses that suggest years of practice.

Her legs immediately wrap around your waist, ankles crossing at the small of your back, pulling you deeper. The change in sensation is mind-bending – from Ningning's tight grip to Karina's silky heat, both equally devastating to your self-control.

Now it's Ningning's turn to receive your fingers, sliding easily into her abandoned pussy, still stretched from your cock and dripping with arousal. You find her g-spot with unerring accuracy, applying firm pressure that has her keening, back arching off the bed.

"No fair," she whimpers, eyes glassy with frustrated tears. "I was so close."

"You'll get your turn again," you promise, voice barely recognizable through your labored breathing. "Want to make it last."

You lean down to kiss Karina as you thrust into her, swallowing her moans. Her mouth is voracious against yours, tongue tangling with yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip. One of her hands tangles in your hair, pulling hard enough to send sparks of pain-pleasure down your spine.

"Feel how fucking wet I am for you?" she pants against your lips, inner muscles clenching deliberately around your length. "Been thinking about this since I first saw you in homeroom."

The confession, unexpected and raw, sends a fresh surge of arousal through you. Your hips stutter in their rhythm before driving deeper, harder, drawing a choked cry from her throat.

Beside you, Ningning grows impatient with just your fingers. She rises to her knees, moving closer until she can press her body against your side. Her small breasts brush against your arm, nipples hard points of contact that make your skin tingle.

"Let me help," she murmurs, surprising you as her hand slides down to where you're joined with Karina. Her slender fingers find Karina's clit, circling it with a practiced touch that suggests this isn't the first time she's touched her friend this way.

Karina's reaction is immediate – a sharp gasp, inner walls clenching around you, back arching to press her breasts up toward you. Her platinum hair fans out across the pillow, damp strands sticking to her flushed face and neck.

"Fuck, Ning," she breathes, using a nickname you've never heard before. "Just like that."

The sight of Ningning's darker fingers against Karina's pale flesh, the contrast of their skin tones as they work together to maximize pleasure, is possibly the hottest thing you've ever seen. Your cock throbs inside Karina at the visual, drawing a knowing smile from both girls.

"You like watching us together, don't you?" Karina purrs, voice thick with satisfaction. "Been playing with each other since sophomore year. Wondering when we'd find someone worth sharing."

The casual revelation sends your mind reeling, imagination filling with images of them together – Karina's head between Ningning's thighs, Ningning's fingers buried inside Karina, their bodies entwined in countless configurations.

Holy shit, this is actually happening.

You increase your pace, pounding into Karina with renewed vigor while maintaining the curl of your fingers inside Ningning. The awkward angle strains your wrist but the dual sensation of both their bodies clenching around different parts of you is worth any discomfort.

Suddenly, you withdraw from Karina, her disappointed whine cutting off as you move down her body. Your tongue finds her clit, sucking the swollen bud between your lips while three fingers thrust into her soaked entrance. She tastes incredible – tangy, sweet, with an underlying musk that's uniquely hers.

"Oh my GOD," she cries out, thighs immediately clamping around your head, one hand fisting in your hair to hold you in place. "Right there, don't you dare fucking stop!"

Your free hand continues working inside Ningning, her wetness covering your fingers, dripping down your wrist. The position is challenging but the sound of both girls moaning, their bodies writhing on either side of you, spurs you to push through the discomfort.

"His tongue," Karina gasps to Ningning, eyes wild, pupils blown wide. "You have no idea."

Instead of responding with words, Ningning leans down to capture one of Karina's nipples in her mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. The unexpected cooperation between them – Ningning pleasuring Karina while you work between her legs – creates a tableau of feminine beauty that's almost artful in its eroticism.

You alternate between them, mouth moving from Karina to Ningning, fingers filling whoever doesn't have your tongue, never letting either girl get too close to the edge before switching again. Their frustration builds with each denial, whimpers turning to pleas, then to demands.

"Please," Ningning begs, voice cracking, a tear escaping the corner of her eye to disappear into her hairline. "I need to come so bad it hurts."

"Let her finish," Karina surprises you by saying, her own voice shaky with need. "Want to watch her fall apart on your cock."

The request – so unlike her earlier competitive attitude – makes your decision for you. You move up Ningning's body, positioning yourself at her entrance once more. She's so wet now that you slide in effortlessly, her body accepting you with a soft squelch that should be embarrassing but is just incredibly hot.

"Yes," she hisses, hands immediately finding purchase on your shoulders, nails digging in. "Fuck me like you mean it."

You comply, setting a relentless pace that has the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust. Her small body takes everything you give her, inner walls gripping you like a vise, fluttering with the beginning of her orgasm.

"Look at me," you command, one hand moving to cup her jaw, forcing her gaze to meet yours. "Want to see your eyes when you come."

Her gaze locks with yours, dark irises nearly swallowed by dilated pupils. There's something raw and vulnerable in her expression that contrasts sharply with her usual guarded demeanor. A single tear tracks down her temple, disappearing into her hairline—overwhelmed by sensation, by the intensity of feeling you so deep inside her.

You grip her small, firm breast in one hand, thumb brushing over the hardened nipple, while your other hand finds her throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, feeling her pulse race beneath your palm. The gesture is possessive, dominant, and her response is immediate—pupils dilating further, inner walls clenching around you.

"Going to come," she warns, voice thin and reedy, barely audible over the sound of your bodies meeting. "Don't stop, don't stop, please don't—"

Her words dissolve into a high-pitched keen as her orgasm crashes through her. Her pussy spasms around you in powerful waves, each contraction stronger than the last, milking your length with incredible strength. Her entire body goes rigid beneath you, back arched so dramatically only her head and hips remain on the mattress.

The sight of her coming undone – face contorted in ecstasy, throat working as she gasps for air, body surrendered completely to pleasure – burns itself into your memory with crystal clarity.

You continue thrusting through her orgasm, prolonging it, feeling each aftershock ripple through her overstimulated body. Only when her whimpers take on an edge of discomfort do you finally pull out, your cock glistening with her release, harder than it's ever been, angry red and pulsing with need.

Before you can move, Karina pushes you onto your back with surprising strength, swinging one leg over to straddle you. Her eyes are wild, desperate, platinum hair hanging in damp strands around her flushed face, lips swollen from kisses.

"My turn," she growls, positioning herself above your cock. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

She sinks down onto your length in one fluid motion, taking you to the hilt with a satisfied groan. The wet heat of her pussy surrounds you, different from Ningning's but equally intoxicating. Where Ningning was all tight, gripping heat, Karina is velvet smoothness with deliberate control, her inner muscles rippling along your length in waves that suggest she's done her Kegels religiously.

"So fucking thick," she gasps, beginning to ride you with the perfect combination of speed and pressure. Her larger breasts bounce with each movement, nipples stiff peaks begging for attention. You reach up to cup them, feeling their weight in your palms, thumbs brushing over the sensitive tips.

She leans forward, changing the angle, her platinum hair falling around your faces like a curtain. The new position has the head of your cock dragging against her front wall with each movement, hitting that spot that makes her thighs tremble.

"Right there," she breathes against your lips, not quite kissing you, just sharing breath. "Can feel you so deep like this."

Ningning, still trembling from her recent orgasm, moves to join you. She positions herself beside you, her small hand sliding down your chest, over your stomach, to where you and Karina are joined. Her fingers find Karina's clit, circling it with practiced ease while her mouth finds your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak.

The dual sensation – Ningning's mouth on your chest, Karina's pussy gripping your cock, the visual of both girls working together to maximize pleasure – sends jolts of electricity down your spine, coiling at the base, threatening to push you over the edge embarrassingly quickly.

"Not yet," Karina commands, reading your expression with unsettling accuracy. She slows her movements, rising until just the head of your cock remains inside her before sinking back down with agonizing slowness. "Want this to last."

Ningning shifts positions, moving behind Karina now, her small hands reaching around to cup Karina's breasts, taking over where your hands just were. The visual is incredible – Ningning's darker skin against Karina's paleness, her delicate fingers pinching Karina's nipples as she continues to ride you.

Karina's head falls back against Ningning's shoulder, throat exposed, eyes closed in concentration as she chases her pleasure. Her inner walls flutter around your length, the beginning of what promises to be an intense orgasm.

"She's close," Ningning murmurs, looking down at you with dark eyes, her chin resting on Karina's shoulder. One of her hands slides down Karina's stomach to find her clit again, rubbing in tight circles as Karina continues to ride you with increasing urgency. "Can feel how tight she's getting."

The sight of them together – Karina bouncing on your cock while Ningning touches her from behind – combined with the incredible sensation of Karina's pussy gripping you like a silken vise, brings you dangerously close to the edge again. Your balls tighten painfully, pressure building at the base of your spine, every muscle in your body tensing with impending release.

"Gonna come inside you," you warn, voice tight with the effort of holding back. "Can't wait any longer."

"Yes," Karina hisses, movements becoming more erratic as her own orgasm approaches. "Fill me up. Want to feel it."

Her platinum hair sticks to her sweat-slicked back, strands darkened by moisture. Beads of sweat roll down between her breasts, along her stomach, glistening in the fading light. The scent of sex fills the room – musky, primal, intoxicating – mingling with the faint coconut of Ningning's shampoo and the cherry sweetness of Karina's lip gloss.

Behind her, Ningning continues her ministrations, one hand on Karina's clit, the other reaching down to cup your balls, feeling their tightness, the way they draw up close to your body as you approach your peak.

"He's about to explode," Ningning announces, voice husky with renewed arousal despite her recent orgasm. Her fingers massage your balls gently, adding another layer of sensation that pushes you closer to the brink. "Can feel how tight they are."

Karina's movements become more deliberate, grinding down on each downstroke, creating a corkscrew motion that has the head of your cock hitting every sensitive spot inside her. Her inner walls flutter around your length, the telltale beginning of her orgasm.

"Don't stop," she gasps, eyes locking with yours, pupils so dilated her blue eyes look almost black. "Please, I'm so close, I'm right there—"

Her words cut off as her orgasm hits, body going rigid above you, thighs clamping down on your hips with bruising force. Her pussy contracts around you in powerful waves, each pulse threatening to pull your own release from you. Her face contorts in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream, a single tear tracking down her flushed cheek as the intensity overwhelms her.

The visual of Karina coming undone above you – head thrown back against Ningning's shoulder, throat working as she tries to breathe through the pleasure, body trembling with the force of her release – combined with the rippling contractions of her pussy around your cock, finally shatters your control.

You grip her hips hard enough to leave bruises, fingertips digging into the soft flesh as you thrust up into her spasming heat. The first pulse of your orgasm hits with such intensity that your vision whites out momentarily, pleasure radiating from your core outward until every nerve ending is alight with sensation.

"Fuck, I'm coming," you growl, the words torn from your throat as you empty yourself inside her in hot, powerful spurts. Each pulse seems stronger than the last, your entire body seized in the grip of the most intense orgasm of your life. Your hips buck uncontrollably, driving deeper, prolonging the pleasure for both of you as her inner walls continue to milk every last drop from you.

Karina collapses forward onto your chest, her body still trembling with aftershocks. Her skin sticks to yours with sweat, her breathing ragged against your neck. Behind her, Ningning strokes her back gently, fingertips tracing the knobs of her spine with surprising tenderness.

For several minutes, the only sounds in the room are your collective breathing, gradually slowing as your heart rates return to something approaching normal. The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air, mingled with sweat and the faint traces of their different perfumes – Karina's expensive floral scent, Ningning's lighter coconut notes, both now thoroughly blended with the musk of shared pleasure.

Eventually, Karina shifts, wincing slightly as she lifts herself off your softening cock. A mixture of your release and her own arousal follows, dripping onto your stomach in a lewd display that somehow still manages to send a weak throb of interest through your spent cock.

She collapses beside you, one arm thrown across her eyes, chest still rising and falling with slightly labored breaths. Ningning moves to your other side, curling against you like a satisfied cat, her small hand coming to rest possessively on your chest.

The three of you lie there in sweat-soaked, satisfied silence, the reality of what just happened slowly sinking in as your brain begins to function again. Your body feels simultaneously weightless and heavy, every muscle pleasantly exhausted, skin hypersensitive as you come down from the most intense experience of your life.

Ningning's fingers trace lazy patterns across your chest, occasionally circling a nipple, making you twitch despite your complete exhaustion. Her head rests in the crook of your shoulder, damp hair tickling your skin. You can feel her heartbeat gradually slowing where her small breasts press against your side.

Karina reaches for your free hand, intertwining her fingers with yours in a gesture that feels surprisingly intimate after everything you've just done. Her thumb strokes the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, sending tiny shivers up your arm.

"So much better than bio class," she murmurs, voice still slightly hoarse from all her moaning. "Worth missing that test for sure."

You laugh, the sound pulling from deep in your chest. "Coach is gonna kill me when I get benched, but yeah... definitely worth it."

Ningning lifts her head to look at you, dark eyes still soft with lingering pleasure. She leans in to place a gentle kiss on your lips – so different from the desperate, hungry kisses you shared earlier. This one is almost sweet, her lips soft and yielding against yours.

When she pulls back, Karina immediately takes her place, claiming her own kiss. Her style is different – a little deeper, her tongue briefly tracing your lower lip before she pulls away with a small nip that makes you gasp.

"We should make this a regular thing," Karina suggests, trying to sound casual despite the hint of eagerness in her voice. Her fingers continue their gentle exploration, trailing down your stomach now, circling your navel, deliberately avoiding your spent cock.

"Mmm," Ningning agrees, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Next time I go first though." The competitive edge is back in her voice, though softer now, wrapped in playfulness rather than genuine rivalry.

You find yourself laughing again, equal parts disbelief and delight. "There's going to be a next time?"

"Duh," they say in unison, then exchange a look and burst into giggles.

Karina props herself up on one elbow, pushing damp platinum strands behind her ear. With her makeup smudged and her hair a mess, she looks younger somehow, more like the girl who sits behind you in English rather than the untouchable dance team captain.

"I wonder if Yujin would want to join us sometime," she muses, glancing at both of you. "Now that I know about your little secret hookup."

Your face heats up at the mention of what you thought was your private encounter. "You think she'd be into this?"

Ningning shakes her head slightly. "She kept that whole thing with you totally quiet. Didn't even tell us, and we tell each other everything." She shoots a meaningful look at Karina. "She might not be into sharing."

"Maybe," Karina concedes with a thoughtful expression. "But I've seen how she looks at Ningning during practice."

Ningning rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of a blush on her cheeks. "Whatever."

"And I'm still determined to finish what Chaewon started with you at Jackson's party," Karina continues, poking Ningning's side playfully. "Before she chickened out."

"She didn't chicken out, she just got weird about it," Ningning protests, but there's a wistful quality to her voice. "Said she wasn't ready or something."

"Trust me," Karina says confidently, "if she saw what I just saw, she'd definitely be ready. We just need to ease her into it."

Your eyes widen at the casual way they're discussing expanding this... whatever this is. Your cock gives a valiant twitch despite being completely spent, drawing knowing smirks from both girls.

"Look at that," Karina teases, glancing down at your slight movement. "Someone likes the idea."

"Don't break him," Ningning warns, reaching across you to flick Karina's arm lightly. "We need him functional for next time."

Karina catches Ningning's hand, bringing it to her lips for a quick kiss before releasing it. The gesture speaks to a depth of connection between them that goes beyond the competitive dynamic you've witnessed so far.

"So what do you say?" Karina asks, blue eyes fixed on yours, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Ready to be our regular class-skipping buddy?"

"With benefits," Ningning adds with a suggestive smile, her hand drifting dangerously close to your cock again, though it's far too soon for you to respond.

You think about your day just hours ago – boring, predictable, defined by classes and swim meets and the constant pressure to maintain your GPA. Then you look at these two incredible girls curled against you, their bodies warm and soft, offering something you never imagined would be within your reach.

"Bio test was today," you remind yourself aloud, wincing slightly. "I'm definitely getting a zero."

"You can make it up," Karina says with a dismissive wave. "Just tell Mr. Park you were sick or something."

Ningning nods in agreement, her fingers drawing circles on your chest. "No one's gonna believe you'd skip for no reason anyway. You're like, annoyingly responsible."

As they continue chatting, arms draped across your body, heads resting against your shoulders, you find yourself wondering what exactly you've gotten yourself into. The dance team's secret hookup? Their shared boyfriend? The guy lucky enough to be their favorite distraction?

Whatever this is, whatever label might eventually apply, one thing is certain: there's no way you're backing out now.

Bio test be damned, you think, pulling both girls closer as you sink into the comfort of Karina's bed.

This is definitely worth getting benched for.

#malereader #kpop smut #cloudtrnsprncy #cloudtsmut #smut #karina x reader #ningning x reader #karina #ningning

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

Text

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you.

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough.

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes.

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement.

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment.

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them.

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up.

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you.

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie.

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can.

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks.

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy.

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft.

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly.

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait.

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest.

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back.

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow.

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly.

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.”

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you.

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features.

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table.

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness.

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum.

Spencer doesn’t respond.

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy.

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks.

You do it again.

Another squeak.

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can.

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark.

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won.

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding.

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one.

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile.

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you.

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously.

“You’d be surprised.”

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him.

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you.

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago.

But you don’t bring those up.

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth.

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face.

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?”

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently.

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that.

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine

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kamospeach · 8 days ago

Text

three's a crowd

starring: nerd!gojo x popular!reader x jock!suguru content warning: threesome duh, spanking, mating press, oral m!recieving, lil aftercare, boyfriends that are boyfriends, not that much tbh :P peachy's yap: chat i actually loved writing this ! pls give me more pairings in my asks hehehe

“20… 21… 22… fuck s-s-suguru c’mon.” satoru panted counting each slap suguru sent to your ass while his cock suffocated in his pants. If anyone in your college knew what the three of you were doing, you’d be shunned. How many girls get to say they have the most popular athlete and the richest guy on campus in their bed? How many girls get to say they got to fuck their hot best friends at that.

Rumors went around about the three of you. People claimed you had the men in some sick reverse harem (don’t let them see you with nanami, too, the rumors would fly like a bird). But I mean, they weren’t too far off; it wasn’t an harem, it was an occasional threesome here and there.

“I won’t stop until Satoru stops trying to help himself,” Suguru said, and that scared poor little Satoru straight. His legs were spread and his fists were balled tight as he counted your next 5 smacks. The two of you were leaking while Suguru’s bulge was pressed against your tummy, that laid over his lap. “You’re such a good boy, Satoru, maybe you could teach y/n how to listen like you.”

This was all because Suguru got jealous. He always ran every man you met away, and this new guy you were serious about. So when suguru asked, you refused to give him any details about the man. Satoru tried to stand up for you, but that only got him in just as much trouble as you.

“Sugu…” you whined as he rubbed your clit slowly in small circles. Your legs were shaking from the overwhelming pleasure, your pleading eyes beaded with tears. Satoru was torn between the two of you, wanting to be submissive for Suguru but dominant for you.

“You want Satoru to teach you?” he asked, beckoning Satoru over, and he wasted no time coming over to the two of you. You nodded eagerly, reaching out to rub his poor throbbing bulge.

Suguru smirked he was a freak, and he loved watching Satoru switch. Nothing got him more aroused than watching the two people he loved the most be intimate. He was having the time of his life watching your body lay at the end of the bed while satoru fucked into you like he was deprived.

Neither of them even bothered to take off your clothes for your planned coffee date. Your shirt still on, a tit threatening to slip out, skirt bunched up by your waist, and your fishnets ripped.

The way your legs were pressed to your chest and Satoru’s body leaned over yours. He was so close to spilling his cum all over satoru’s round ass. His cock rubbed against his ass every time Satoru thrusted in and out of you.

“You think she’ll finally learn her lesson, Toru? Think she’ll be a good girl for us?” Suguru whispered in Satoru’s ear, but you heard it anyway. Satoru was fucking you so good your eyes were rolled to the back of you head. But that still didn’t stop you from commenting.

“F-fuck.. hah… both of you,” you said, words broken up by your pornographic moans. Usually, Suguru was the one who got angry at your vulgar words, but this time, something snapped in Satoru His thrust sped up and his rhythm became sloppily and he fucked you senseless.

“Looks like you made him angry, baby. Open your eyes, look at him while he fucks you,” he instructed sending a rough smack to satoru’s ass making him whimper. You forced your eyes open, immediately looking into those big blue eyes that were two shades darker out of anger.

“It’s fuck me? That’s what you said?” he asked, his voice strained, throat dry as a desert from the series of events. His glasses were fogged up, and sweat dripped from his forehead. Suguru didn't say anything, just quietly moved from behind Satoru and knelt next to your head. His fat cock above your face and stroking his cock to the look on your fucked out face.

“Mmm toru…” You whined, looking Suguru in the eyes, knowing how he felt about eye contact. His cock twitched in his hands with each pump just from the way you looked at him.

“P-please make her suck it sugu, w-wanna see her mouth stuffed with you.” satoru whined begging his hips slowing to a halt as he hyperfixated on the two of you.

“Open for me pretty,” he instructed you to open your mouth. The minute your mouth opened he was fucking your throat mercilessly. Your jaw was hurting from the jump, and your gags were music to his ears. The sloppy spit and your teary eyes were enough to have the two men filling you full. “want you to cum with me toru, can you hold it until i’m ready?” he asked and toru moaned with a small nod.

“Yeah, I can… hah… i can wait.” his eyes were trained on the spit that bubbled around suguru as he fucked your throat. Your mascara was running down your eyes, and lip gloss was still on your lips. “Can… can y/n cum with us too sugu please?”

Hearing him whine and beg had you clenching around him. He was always so caring, always asking for you, caring about you, even when he knew Suguru would get mad. You looked up at Suguru's eyes, matching Satoru’s pleading words.

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing Satoru’s chin, kissing his wet lips still fucking your throat. The sight was enough to make you moan, which caused Suguru to groan in Satoru’s mouth. Satoru was rubbing your clit while fucking you making your pleasure double fucking you harder than before.

It was obvious they both were starting to chase their highs, rushing to finish. You were getting closer and closer to finishing, and you were hoping so were they. You resorted to playing with Suguru’s balls, a weak attempt at milking him, knowing he was the one who lasted the longest.

“Sugu m’ready…” Satoru, whined, looking up at him with those blue eyes, pouting as he felt his climax piercing through him.

“Wait one more minute for me, Toru, you’re doing so good, so are you y/n you’re both so good.” he was clearly rambling now. Which was a tell-tale sign that he was closer than he let on. “So wet, so hot, fuck m’cumming. Shit.”

“On one, mkay?” Gojo said, and the two of you nodded ready to cum when ever gojo finished the countdown. “3… 2… 1,” he said as he released inside you, the sight of your body convulsing and suguru’s dick twitching in your month had him unload more cum than usual.

Suguru kept his cock in your mouth until he was completely drained. He used his thumb to open your mouth removing his cock letting it slap against your face. You stuck out your tongue, showing him you swallowed it all, panting like a dog. Out of breath wasn’t even the word to explain how you felt; you were exhausted.

You could tell it wasn’t over for Satoru, Suguru still had a hungry look in his eyes. But sweet satoru was fucked out dick lip on his tummy as he laid next to you. You pushed the hair out of his face, giggling at his drowsy eyes. You leaned down, kissing his forehead, out of nowhere, hands gripped your waist, lifting you from the bed.

“Gonna start you a bath, Satoru’s not done yet.” Suguru smiled as he turned on the water for you.

“W-wait, huh, what do you mean?” Satoru asked, and Suguru ignored him as he made sure your bath was nice and warm. He even added a little bath bomb in there for you while Satoru was begging for answers. “Hey. Suguru! Don’t be like that man!”

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the-oblivious-writer · 2 months ago

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With Her I Die |10|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Ten: Ready or Not

warnings: emotional distress/grief, references to death, abandonment trauma, and - once again - shauna is still very much pregnant.

note(s): i love working on the adult timeline.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The note lay in the center of the empty lean-to, three words scrawled hastily on a torn piece of paper:

I'm sorry.

Misty found it just after dawn when she came to check on you, a gesture born less from concern and more from curiosity. You'd become something of a spectacle over the past few days—the girl who survived the fever only to exile herself from the group, the one who'd broken whatever strange spell had formed between you and Shauna.

"Well, shit," she muttered, picking up the note between her fingers as if it might bite. She glanced around the lean-to, taking inventory of what remained: nothing. Not your knife, not your extra pair of socks, not even the small carved animal Javi had made for you when you were sick.

Gone. All of it. All of you.

For a moment, Misty considered pocketing the note, wondering what kind of drama might unfold if she controlled this particular piece of information. But something in those two simple words—I'm sorry—made her hesitate. This wasn't a game. This was real, and dangerous, and potentially deadly.

"Fuck," she sighed.

------

"What do you mean, gone?" Taissa's voice cut through the morning air, sharp with disbelief. "Gone where?"

Misty held out the note, now slightly crumpled from her tight grip. "Just this. Nothing else."

The small group gathered outside the lean-to stared at the paper as if it might suddenly reveal more information. Nat snatched it first, her eyes scanning the brief message before passing it to Tai.

"How long?" Tai asked, looking to Misty.

Misty shrugged, adjusting her glasses. "No idea. I came to check on her this morning and..." She gestured to the empty space around them. "Poof. Vanished."

"She can't have gotten far," Travis said, already scanning the tree line as if expecting to see you emerge at any moment. "Not in the dark, not alone."

"You don't know her," Nat muttered, kicking at the dirt with the toe of her boot. "She's been hunting with us. She knows the woods."

"Not well enough!" The voice came from behind them, strained and tight with barely contained panic.

They turned to find Shauna standing at the edge of the clearing, one hand braced against a tree trunk for support, the other curved protectively over her swollen belly. Her face was pale, eyes wide with something that went beyond simple worry.

"Not well enough," she repeated, softer now. "She got lost three days ago just trying to find the stream."

No one mentioned that it had been during your fever recovery, that disorientation was to be expected. No one needed to. The implication hung in the air, heavy as storm clouds.

"We need to look for her," Shauna said, already moving toward the tree line. "Now. Before the trail gets cold."

Tai and Nat exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. It was Tai who stepped forward, placing a gentle but firm hand on Shauna's arm.

"Shauna, you need to stay here."

"Like hell I do," Shauna snapped, trying to pull away. "She's out there alone because of me, because I couldn't—"

"Because you're nine months pregnant," Tai interrupted, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You can barely walk to the stream and back without getting winded. You're not going anywhere."

Shauna's face crumpled, anger giving way to something more vulnerable, more raw. "I can't just sit here while she's out there."

"You can, and you will." Nat stepped up beside Tai, presenting a united front. "We'll find her. You stay here in case she comes back on her own."

It was a hollow reassurance, and they all knew it. If you had wanted to come back, you wouldn't have left in the first place. Wouldn't have packed up every trace of yourself. Wouldn't have written that awful, insufficient note.

Shauna seemed to deflate, the fight leaving her in a long exhale. "At least take Lottie with you. She..." She swallowed hard, the admission clearly difficult. "She knows things sometimes. About where people are."

Tai's expression tightened—she'd never been comfortable with Lottie's uncanny moments of insight—but she nodded. "Fine. Lottie comes too."

As the group dispersed to prepare for the search, Shauna remained rooted to the spot, staring at the empty lean-to as if she could will you back into existence through sheer force of need.

Nat lingered, watching her with a mixture of concern and frustration. "This isn't your fault," she said finally.

Shauna let out a bitter laugh. "Isn't it? I pushed too hard. Wanted too much."

"She was spiraling, Shauna. Whatever was going on in her head after that fever—it wasn't about you. Not really."

"Then why did it feel like she was looking right through me?" Shauna's voice cracked slightly. "Like I was the one thing she couldn't stand to see anymore?"

Nat had no answer for that. She reached out awkwardly, squeezing Shauna's shoulder once before turning to join the others. "We'll find her," she promised over her shoulder, the words hollower with each repetition.

Shauna didn't respond, her attention already drifting back to the note clutched in her hand, to those two words that explained nothing and everything at once.

I'm sorry.

The search party set out just after breakfast, equipped with what little they could spare—water, a few strips of jerky, a compass Nat had managed to keep hidden from the others. Travis took the lead, Nat and Lottie flanking him, with Van and Akilah bringing up the rear.

Tai had wanted to come, but someone needed to stay behind with the younger ones. With Shauna. It was an unspoken agreement among them—don't leave Shauna alone, not now, not with the baby coming any day and her mind fracturing under the weight of this new loss.

"Which way?" Travis asked once they reached the edge of the clearing, looking to Lottie.

The girl closed her eyes, that familiar, unsettling stillness settling over her features. The others waited, shifting uncomfortably, none of them quite believing but none willing to dismiss her either.

"North," Lottie finally said, opening her eyes. "Toward the ridge."

Nat frowned. "That doesn't make sense. The ridge is exposed, dangerous. Why would she go that way?"

"Because she doesn't want to be found," Lottie replied simply, her gaze drifting toward the distant rise of land barely visible above the tree line. "She went where she thought no one would follow."

A heavy silence fell over the group, the implication clear. If you'd gone to the ridge, it wasn't just to get away. It was to ensure you stayed away.

"Let's go," Travis said gruffly, adjusting his grip on the hunting knife strapped to his belt. "We're burning daylight."

As they moved deeper into the forest, following Lottie's lead, Nat found herself thinking about the last conversation she'd had with you—her accusations, your defensive retreat. The way she'd walked away thinking you'd come to your senses eventually.

She should have known better. Should have recognized the look in your eyes for what it was—not just anger or fear, but resolve. The decision already made.

"I told her she was being an asshole," Nat said suddenly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the group.

Travis glanced back at her, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Yesterday. I found her moving her stuff to the lean-to and I told her she was being an asshole to Shauna." Nat kicked at a fallen branch in their path. "Told her she was throwing away the only good thing left out here."

"You couldn't have known," Akilah offered from behind them.

But Nat shook her head. "I pushed her. Just like Shauna did. Just like everyone's been doing since Jackie died. Like she was some fucking science experiment—how much pressure can she take before she breaks?"

"She didn't break," Lottie said, her voice distant, dreamy. "She chose."

None of them had a response to that.

Back at the cabin, Shauna sat motionless on the edge of her mattress, staring at the empty space where yours had been. Hours had passed since the search party left, the sun now high overhead, bathing the interior in harsh light that caught every dust mote, every imperfection.

Her hand moved absently over her belly, feeling the restless shifting of the baby inside. It had been active today, more so than usual, as if sensing her distress.

"She's not coming back, is she?" Shauna asked the empty room, her voice sounding strange in the silence.

Tai, who had been keeping a quiet vigil from the doorway, stepped inside. "We don't know that."

"I do." Shauna's fingers traced the edge of the note she'd read so many times the words had lost their meaning. "She's been trying to leave for weeks. I just didn't want to see it."

Tai moved to sit beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under their combined weight. "People say things they don't mean when they're hurting. Do things they regret."

"This isn't like that." Shauna finally looked up, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. "After the fever broke, something was different. Like she could suddenly see everything clearly, and what she saw..." She swallowed hard. "What she saw was me, suffocating her."

"Shauna—"

"No, it's true. I was so afraid of losing her like I lost Jackie that I held on too tight. And the tighter I held, the more she pulled away."

Tai was quiet for a moment, considering. "Maybe," she finally conceded. "Or maybe the fever fucked with her head more than we realized. People do strange things when they're not thinking clearly."

"She was thinking clearly," Shauna insisted. "For the first time since we got stranded out here, she was seeing things exactly as they are. She was seeing me exactly as I am."

The bitterness in her voice made Tai wince. "And what's that?"

"Desperate. Needy. Trying to replace one dead girl with another."

The harsh assessment hung in the air between them, too raw to immediately address. Tai reached for Shauna's hand, squeezing it once. "That's not fair. To you or to her."

Shauna didn't pull away, but she didn't return the pressure either, her hand limp in Tai's grasp. "Isn't it? Be honest, Tai. You've seen how I've been with her. Ever since Jackie."

Tai sighed, choosing her words carefully. "I've seen two people clinging to each other in a fucked-up situation. I've seen you care for someone who needed it. And yes, maybe sometimes that care was... intense. But it wasn't one-sided, Shauna. She needed you just as much."

"Until she didn't."

The simplicity of the statement made it impossible to argue with. Tai released Shauna's hand, recognizing that there was nothing she could say to ease this particular wound.

"They'll find her," she said instead, the closest thing to comfort she could offer.

Shauna nodded, the gesture automatic, empty. "And then what? Drag her back here against her will? Force her to stay with people she obviously wants to get away from?"

The question had no good answer, and they both knew it.

Outside, the day continued its relentless progression, shadows shifting as the sun moved across the sky. Inside, time seemed suspended, caught in the amber of Shauna's grief.

By mid-afternoon, the search party had reached the base of the ridge, a steep, rocky incline that marked the boundary of their usual hunting territory. They'd found signs of passage—a broken branch here, a disturbed patch of earth there—but nothing conclusive, nothing that couldn't have been caused by wildlife or their own previous excursions.

"We should split up," Travis suggested, surveying the terrain ahead. "Cover more ground."

Nat shook her head firmly. "Bad idea. We get separated out here, we might never find each other again."

"We're running out of time," Travis argued, gesturing to the sun's position. "Another few hours and it'll be dark. We'll have to head back."

The unspoken reality hung between them—if they didn't find you before nightfall, the chances of finding you at all diminished dramatically. One night alone in the wilderness was survivable. Two, maybe, if you were lucky, skilled. Beyond that...

"We keep going," Nat decided, shouldering her pack. "Together. Up the ridge. If Lottie's right, that's where she went."

No one questioned Lottie's guidance, not anymore. Not when they had so little else to go on.

The climb was arduous, the rocky terrain unforgiving. They moved in silence, conserving energy, each lost in their own thoughts. What they would say when they found you. If they found you. How they would convince you to come back, or if they even should.

Halfway up, Van paused, squinting at something ahead. "Wait," she called, pointing to a small outcropping. "Is that...?"

Nat followed her gaze, heart lurching painfully when she spotted it—a scrap of fabric caught on a jagged rock, fluttering in the light breeze.

They scrambled forward, Travis reaching it first. He carefully untangled the fabric—unmistakably a piece of the flannel shirt you'd been wearing when you left.

"Could've ripped it passing by," he said, examining the torn edge. "Doesn't mean she fell."

But they all heard the uncertainty in his voice, saw the way his eyes darted to the steep drop beyond the outcropping. A fall from here wouldn't necessarily be fatal, but it would mean injury, exposure, limited mobility.

It would mean they needed to find you, and fast.

"Spread out," Nat ordered, scanning the area below the outcropping. "Look for any sign of disturbance. Broken branches, disturbed earth, blood."

The last word hung in the air, ugly and unavoidable.

They worked methodically, combing the area foot by foot. The sun continued its westward journey, shadows lengthening, the air growing cooler with the approach of evening.

It was Akilah who found the next clue—a partial bootprint in a patch of soft earth near the base of a large boulder. Small, definitely human, heading not down as they'd feared, but along the ridge, following its natural contour.

"She's still moving," Akilah announced, relief evident in her voice. "And recently too. This hasn't been rained on or disturbed much."

A collective exhale passed through the group, tension easing slightly. You hadn't fallen. You were still on the move. Still alive, at least as of whenever you'd left that print.

"Which way was she heading?" Travis asked, examining the faint impression in the dirt.

Akilah pointed north, toward the far end of the ridge where it gradually descended back into forest. "That way. Away from camp."

Away from them. Away from Shauna.

"We should keep going," Van urged, already moving in the direction Akilah indicated. "We might be close."

But Nat hesitated, looking at the position of the sun, now noticeably lower in the western sky. "We don't have time. It'll be dark in a couple hours, and we're already pushing it to make it back to camp before then."

"So we make camp out here," Travis suggested. "Continue in the morning."

Nat shook her head, hating the decision even as she made it. "We can't. We didn't bring enough supplies for an overnight. And the others will worry if we don't come back."

"We can't just leave her out here!" Van protested, gesturing to the wilderness stretching beyond the ridge. "She's alone, maybe hurt—"

"She chose to be alone," Nat cut in, the words sharper than intended. "And from what we've seen, she's not hurt. She's moving purposefully, away from us."

The truth of it silenced Van's objections. This wasn't a rescue mission anymore. It was a pursuit, and an increasingly futile one.

"We'll come back tomorrow," Nat decided, hating every word. "First light. With more supplies, better prepared."

No one looked happy about the decision, but no one argued further. They marked the spot where they'd found the bootprint, using rocks to create an arrow pointing in the direction they'd need to follow.

As they began the journey back to camp, the mood was somber, heavy with the knowledge that they were leaving one of their own behind in the wilderness. By choice—both yours and theirs.

Lottie, who had been unnervingly quiet throughout most of the search, finally spoke as they descended from the ridge. "She doesn't want to be found," she said, her voice carrying in the still evening air. "Not yet."

"What does that mean?" Nat demanded, rounding on her. "'Not yet'?"

Lottie's eyes were distant, focused on something none of them could see. "It means she's not ready to come back. She's looking for something out there."

"Looking for what?" Travis asked, skepticism clear in his tone.

Lottie shrugged, that maddening half-smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Herself, maybe. Or something she lost. I don't know. But she's not ready to be found."

Nat wanted to shake her, to demand more concrete answers, but she knew it would be useless. Lottie's insights, when they came, were always frustratingly cryptic, impossible to force or direct.

"Well, ready or not, we're finding her tomorrow," Nat said firmly, turning back to the path ahead. "Before something else does."

Twilight was settling over the camp when they returned, empty-handed and exhausted. Shauna was waiting outside the main cabin, her vigil seemingly unbroken since they'd left that morning. At the sight of them—just them, no you—her face crumpled briefly before she schooled it back into a mask of control.

"Nothing?" she asked, though the answer was obvious.

Nat stepped forward, the unofficial bearer of bad news. "We found signs. A piece of her shirt. A bootprint. She was heading north along the ridge."

"Was?" Shauna caught the past tense immediately.

"Is," Nat corrected. "She's still moving, as far as we can tell. We had to turn back before dark, but we'll go out again tomorrow. First light."

Shauna nodded, the gesture mechanical, her eyes fixed on the darkening tree line as if she might catch a glimpse of you emerging from the shadows.

"She left a note," she said suddenly, pulling the crumpled paper from her pocket. "Just 'I'm sorry.' That's all." She looked up at them, her expression raw, vulnerable in a way that made them all uncomfortable. "Sorry for what? For leaving? For... for everything with Jackie? For us?"

None of them had an answer. Travis shifted awkwardly, mumbling something about checking the snares before slipping away. Akilah and Van exchanged glances, then followed his lead, murmuring promises to help with the search tomorrow.

Only Nat remained, watching as Shauna continued to stare at the note as if it might suddenly reveal new information, new meaning.

"She's alive, Shauna," Nat said quietly. "She's moving with purpose. That's what matters right now."

Shauna looked up, something hardening in her expression. "Is it? Is that all that matters?"

Nat hesitated, unsure how to navigate this new territory. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe we should let her go." The words seemed to cost Shauna physically, each one dragged from somewhere deep and painful. "If this is what she wants—to be away from us, from me—then who are we to drag her back?"

"Shauna, she's one person alone in the wilderness. The chances of survival—"

"I know the odds," Shauna cut in. "Probably better than you do. I've been calculating them since the plane went down. Since Jackie died. Since every fucking thing that's happened out here." She pressed a hand to her belly, wincing slightly. "But maybe it's not our choice to make. Maybe it's hers."

Nat stared at her, trying to reconcile this fatalistic acceptance with the desperate, hovering Shauna of the past weeks. "You can't be serious."

"I'm just tired, Nat." Shauna's voice cracked slightly. "Tired of holding on so tight that I break things. Tired of needing people who don't need me back."

There was something alarming in her tone, a defeat that went beyond simple exhaustion. Nat stepped closer, really looking at her for the first time since their return. Shauna's face was pale, drawn, a sheen of sweat visible despite the cool evening air.

"Are you okay?" Nat asked, concern sharpening her voice. "You don't look good."

Shauna let out a short, humorless laugh. "Thanks. Always the charmer."

"I'm serious, Shauna. How long have you been standing out here? Have you eaten anything today?"

"I'm fine." But even as she said it, Shauna swayed slightly, one hand reaching out to steady herself against the cabin wall. "Just tired. And my back's been killing me all day."

Alarm bells went off in Nat's head. "Your back? Where exactly?"

Shauna gestured vaguely to her lower back. "Here. It comes and goes. It's nothing."

But Nat was already moving forward, taking Shauna's arm and guiding her firmly toward the cabin door. "It's not nothing. How long have you been having these pains?"

"I don't know. Since this morning? They've gotten worse, but—" Shauna stopped mid-sentence, her face contorting in a grimace as another wave of pain visibly washed over her.

"Fuck," Nat muttered, supporting more of Shauna's weight as they crossed the threshold into the cabin. "Tai! Van! Anyone!"

Her shout brought a flurry of activity—Tai emerging from the back room, Misty appearing from nowhere as she always seemed to do when there was a crisis.

"What's happening?" Tai demanded, rushing to Shauna's other side.

"I think the baby's coming," Nat said grimly, helping ease Shauna onto her mattress.

"No," Shauna protested weakly. "It's too early. It can't be now. Not when she's still out there. Not when—" Her words cut off in a sharp gasp, hands clutching at her belly.

"Early or not, it's happening," Misty announced, already pushing her sleeves up with an eagerness that would have been disturbing in any other situation. "Someone get clean water. And the medical kit. And any extra blankets or clothing we have."

As the cabin erupted into controlled chaos around her, Shauna stared at the ceiling, tears sliding silently from the corners of her eyes. Not from the pain—though that was substantial, building with each contraction—but from the crushing certainty that you wouldn't be here for this. That you had chosen the vast emptiness of the wilderness over her, over them, over whatever fragile connection had formed between you in the wake of Jackie's death.

"It's too soon," she whispered, though no one was listening anymore, all of them too focused on preparations. "She's supposed to be here. She promised she'd be here for this."

But promises, like everything else out here, had proven as insubstantial as morning mist. As fleeting as your presence in her life—intense and all-consuming one moment, gone the next.

Another contraction gripped her, stronger than the last, forcing all other thoughts from her mind. Distantly, she heard Tai barking orders, felt Misty's hands on her, checking, preparing.

"Breathe, Shauna," someone instructed—Van, maybe, or Akilah. "Just breathe through it."

As if breathing could fix this. As if anything could fix the hollow ache in her chest, the space you'd occupied now gaping and raw. As if bringing new life into this wilderness wasn't the cruelest irony when she couldn't even hold onto the lives already here.

The next contraction hit with stunning force, stealing her breath, arching her back off the mattress.

"Her water broke," Misty announced, the excitement in her voice barely contained. "It's really happening."

Shauna closed her eyes, surrendering to the relentless rhythm of her body's demands. Outside, darkness had fallen completely, the forest reclaiming its territory inch by inch. Somewhere in that darkness, you were out there. Moving away with each step. Lost to her, maybe forever.

And here she was, bringing new life into a world that seemed determined to take everything else away.

"I can't do this," she gasped between contractions, reaching blindly for someone, anyone to anchor her. "Not without her. I can't."

But her body had other ideas, the primal force of birth caring nothing for her heart's desires. Another contraction seized her, more powerful than any before, the pressure building unbearably.

"Yes, you can," Tai's voice reached her through the haze of pain, steady and certain. "You're doing it right now. And we're here with you. All of us."

All except the one person she wanted most. The one who had walked away into the wilderness, leaving nothing but those two inadequate words behind.

I'm sorry.

As the next contraction crashed over her like a wave, Shauna surrendered to the inevitable, to the inescapable forward momentum of life continuing, even in the face of loss. Even in the face of abandonment. Even here, in this desolate corner of nowhere, where nothing had gone as planned from the moment their plane had fallen from the sky.

The baby was coming, ready or not. And you were gone, choice made and path taken.

And Shauna, caught between these two immovable truths, had no choice but to breathe, and push, and somehow find a way to keep living in the space between what was and what might have been.

#shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman #shauna yellowjackets #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x y/n #jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets

187 notes · View notes

ikeuholic · 3 months ago

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jake fic recs

smau

1. the love ride | @whjluv

after your mutual breakup, your ex disappears from the public eye for almost a year, only to comeback with a deeply emotional album entirely about you, sending fans into a frenzy. they analyze every lyric and link it to your past relationship, causing your breakup to become once again the talk of the internet. upset and surprised that the so private Jake preferred to deal with his emotions publicly instead of talking it out with you, you drop a single in response, highlighting the parts of your breakup he left out.

full/written

1. taking jake’s glasses off for a kiss | 0.2k | @jiwuu

2. attracted to you | 500 | @yuzujjn

3. latte hearts | 835 | @bywons

𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾’𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗋

4. toothbrush | 1.4k | @winterlico

after months of living together, the distinction between "just roommates" and something more begins to haze due to late-night movie marathons, sharing food, and Jake's toothbrush's inexplicable permanent presence in your bathroom.

5. falling deeper | 3.5k | @winterlico

another casual night drive with Jake, "This is the best idea I’ve ever had."

6. clickbait romance | 3.5k | @heartsriki

When the head journalist of the university magazine is paired with campus heartthrob Jake Sim for a fake dating photoshoot, the lines between pretend and real begin to blur.

7. your name | 5.1k | @soobnny | 🌟

you give a different fake name every time you come into the coffee shop jake works part time in and he just wants to know your real name bc ur cute but here he is scrawling “rainbow dash” into your stupid cup

8. cupid’s arrow has struck… the wrong target! | 10.3k | @s1rawb3rry

As a cupid, Y/N's job has always been to make people fall in love– that has been her task for centuries. However, everything goes horribly wrong when Jake accidentally locks eyes with her instead of his intended match. Now, she's stuck with a hopelessly in-love Jake, following her around like a lovesick puppy. The worst part? Cupids aren’t allowed to fall in love…

9. professional yearner | 13k | @itendtothinkalot | 🌟

growing up, you had two heroes: jake and sunghoon. thick and thin, chaos and crayons, they were always there. so when your ex dumped you for "being so oddly close to your best friends” well… fair. but what he didn’t get is that you never needed him. you’ve always had jake sim and maybe that was the problem.

10. the matchmatic 3000 | 19k | @jakesimfromstatefarm | 🌟

simp, i mean, sim jaeyun is a hopeless romantic. a cursed hopeless romantic, he would say, doomed to exist as just your friend, nothing more. but when his genius (read: nerdy) best friend creates a highly accurate matchmaking app for the university, jake is ready to bribe, beg, and possibly sell his soul to make sure he gets paired with you. plan a? hack the system. plan b? there is no plan b. to jake, being delulu is the solulu, and he's all in.

11. no doubt | 23.7k | @jakesimfromstatefarm | 🌟

no doubt sequel series

struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.

🌟- fav

updating regularly for my own sake lol :)

last updated: april 2025

#jake sim #jake x reader

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amyzworldds · 3 months ago

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Part Two: Shattered Roads

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Y/N’s solo debut prep silences Seventeen’s dorm, the boys clinging to her cardboard cutout—until a devastating car accident lands her in a coma. Torn between tour duties and despair, they rally for her recovery. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Heavy angst (mention of car accident, blood, hospital setting)

Y/N’s solo debut prep was finally over. Months of recording, practicing, and MV shoots had culminated in her first music video release, and tomorrow, she’d kick off promotions on a music show. Late that night, she lingered in the HYBE practice room, perfecting her steps with the backup dancers. Exhausted but buzzing, she packed up, waved goodbye—“Catch you tomorrow, legends!”—and stepped into the Seoul night to grab a taxi. The air was crisp, her mind on tomorrow’s stage, oblivious to the storm about to hit.

Inside the taxi, her phone lit up with a facetime call from Jeonghan. She answered, grinning as 13 aproned chaos agents filled the screen, bickering in the dorm kitchen. “Y/N-ie, don’t eat out!” Jeonghan barked, waving a spatula. “We’re cooking dinner—get home now!”

Y/N laughed, the sound echoing in the cab. “You guys’ cooking? Is the fire department on speed dial?!”

Hoshi shoved in, flour-dusted and wild-eyed. “Tiger stew, baby! It’s gonna roar—hurry up!”

“That’s not stew, it’s a disaster!” Seungkwan snapped, smacking him with a spoon. “You’re burning everything!”

DK sang into a ladle, “Y/N-ah, the soup misses you—come quick!”—while Mingyu wrestled it away, yelling, “Stop, you’re ruining it!”

Jeonghan propped the phone up, giving her a live feed of the madness—Woozi smirking over his chopping, Dino tripping over onions with a yelp, “Who put these here?!” Seungcheol barked orders, “Focus, she’s starving out there!”—only for Vernon to chuck a carrot at his head, muttering, “My bad, hyung!”

Y/N cackled, clutching her stomach. “You’re all a mess! Seungkwan-oppa, quit hitting Hoshi—he’s gonna cry!”

“He deserves it!” Seungkwan retorted, mid-whack. “He called my sauce ‘sad ketchup’!”

She was mid-giggle, oblivious to the taxi driver’s growing panic—his hands fumbling, sweat beading on his forehead. The car sped up, and Y/N didn’t notice until headlights flashed ahead. “Wait—oppa, hold on, why’s the car not slowing down?!” Her voice spiked, eyes darting to the driver. “Sir, what’s happening?!”

The driver muttered, “Brakes—brakes aren’t working!”—his voice frantic as he yanked at the pedal.

“What?!” Y/N shrieked, dropping the phone. The boys heard it—her panic, the driver’s yell—and froze mid-bicker.

“Y/N? What’s going on?!” Jeonghan demanded, leaning into the screen.

“There’s a car—oh my God—” Her scream cut through, followed by a deafening CRASH. Glass shattered, metal crumpled, and the call dropped. Dead silence.

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

The dorm kitchen turned to ice. Thirteen faces stared at the blank screen, aprons sagging, utensils clattering to the floor. Hoshi’s spoon hit the ground, his voice a shaky whisper, “What… what was that?!”

Seungkwan dropped his spatula, hands trembling. “That was a crash—I heard it! A crash! She screamed—oh God, she screamed!”

DK stumbled back, hitting the counter, voice breaking. “No, no, no—this isn’t real, right?! Tell me it’s not real!”

Seungcheol lunged for Jeonghan’s phone, hands shaking as he redialed. “Pick up, Y/N—come on, pick up!” Straight to voicemail. “It’s not ringing! Why’s it not ringing?!” He dialed again, pacing, apron flapping like a cape.

Mingyu’s voice cracked, “She was just laughing—did you hear that sound?! That was metal—metal and glass!”

Woozi gripped the counter, knuckles white, muttering, “She’s fine—she has to be fine…”—but his eyes were wild, breath ragged.

Vernon sank to the floor, staring at nothing. “That thud… it went black after that thud…”

Hoshi spun, kicking a chair, voice rising. “We’ve gotta go—she’s out there! We can’t just stand here!”

Joshua grabbed his arm, voice tight. “Wait—we don’t know where she is! We need the manager—he’s closer!”

Seungcheol dialed Manager Kim, shouting, “Hyung, Y/N was on FaceTime—we heard a crash! A loud one—her taxi, something hit her taxi! She’s not answering—check near HYBE, she was just there!”

“I’m five minutes out,” Kim replied, engine roaring. “Stay there—I’ll call back. Don’t move yet.”

Seungcheol threw the phone down, furious. “Stay here?! That’s our maknae—our sister! She could be bleeding out there!”

DK slid down the wall, sobbing, “What if she’s hurt?! What if she’s—what if we lost her?! I can’t—I can’t breathe!”

Seungkwan joined him, tears streaming, voice a wail. “She was laughing—she can’t be gone! This is a prank, right? She’s pranking us—please!”

Minghao grabbed Seungcheol’s shoulder, voice shaking. “Hyung, we can’t storm out—Dispatch, fans—it’ll be a mob! Manager hyung’s got it!”

“Got it?!” Seungcheol roared, shoving a hand through his hair. “We don’t even know if she’s alive! You heard that crash—metal on metal! She screamed, then nothing!”

Dino paced, hands in his hair, muttering, “She’s tough—she’s gotta be okay… right? Right?!”

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

The crash site was a nightmare. The taxi was upside down, a twisted heap of steel and shattered glass, tires spinning uselessly. Y/N had been mid-laugh when the other car slammed into them—too fast to react. The impact flipped the cab, her body slamming against the window, head cracking hard. Blood streaked her face, her phone skittering across the floor as darkness swallowed her. The driver groaned, pinned, barely conscious.

Witnesses screamed, “Call 911—it’s bad!” Sirens wailed minutes later, paramedics rushing to the wreckage. The taxi’s frame was mangled, doors jammed shut. “There’s a girl in there!” a bystander yelled, pointing at Y/N’s limp form, blood pooling under her head. They pried at the metal, shouting, “She’s not moving—hurry!” Sparks flew, the crowd gasping as glass crunched underfoot.

Manager Kim screeched up, leaping out as his stomach dropped. The taxi was unrecognizable—roof caved, windows gone. He saw Y/N through a shattered gap—unconscious, blood everywhere, still trapped. “That’s her—Y/N! Get her out!” he yelled, voice cracking as he shoved toward the paramedics. Phones flashed—onlookers snapping pics—and he spun to an officer, desperate. “Stop them—please! She’s an idol—this can’t get out!”

He dialed the company, breathless. “Car crash—Y/N’s in a taxi, it’s bad. She’s stuck inside, unconscious—I don’t know if she’s… just send help!” Then he called the boys, voice grim. “It’s a wreck—she’s still in there, not moving. Paramedics are working on it. Don’t come—go to the hospital when I say. It’s a mess here.”

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

Back at the dorm, Seungcheol exploded, slamming the counter. “Not moving?! Stuck?! Hyung, we’re not waiting—she’s our family!”

Joshua wrestled the phone away, pleading, “Cheol, stop! He’s there—we’ll make it worse! She’d hate a crowd!”

“Hate a crowd?!” Seungcheol snapped, voice breaking. “She could be dying, Shua! You heard that crash—metal twisting, her scream cut off! We’re just sitting here?!”

DK rocked on the couch, sobbing into his hands. “She’s not gone—she can’t be! I need her yelling at me again—please!”

Seungkwan clutched him, wailing, “That sound—it keeps playing in my head! The crunch, her voice—then nothing! Is she even breathing?!”

Hoshi punched the wall, tears streaming. “We should’ve kept her home—I should’ve dragged her back! This is my fault!”

Vernon stared at the floor, voice a whisper, “She was laughing… then that thud… what if—?”

Woozi sank beside him, fists clenched, muttering, “She’s a fighter—she’s not gone… she can’t be…”—but his voice cracked, eyes wet.

Jeonghan gripped Seungcheol’s arm, shaking. “We wait for Manager hyung’s call—then we go. She’s strong, Cheol—she’ll make it.”

They collapsed onto the couch, aprons still on, the kitchen a frozen disaster—burnt rice, spilled sauce, a ladle on the floor. Silence swallowed them, punctuated by choked sobs and prayers, the echo of that crash looping in their heads as they clung to hope for their chaos queen.

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

The crash site was a warzone, flashing lights cutting through the dark Seoul night. HYBE sprang into action, dispatching a team to swarm the scene—security barking orders, “No pictures! Delete them now!”—shoving back onlookers as phones winked out one by one. Manager Kim stood frozen, heart hammering, eyes locked on the wreckage. The taxi was a twisted coffin, upside down and groaning under its own weight. The driver had been pulled free, battered but alive, now strapped into an ambulance. But Y/N? Still trapped inside, a bloody silhouette against the shattered glass.

Minutes crawled by—five, ten, an eternity. Kim’s hands shook, sweat beading despite the chill. “Come on, kid, hold on…” he muttered, pacing as paramedics hacked at the metal with hydraulic tools. Sparks flew, metal screeched, and the crowd gasped with every jolt. Finally, they pried the door open, and Y/N’s limp form emerged, blood-soaked and still. They shielded her face with a blanket, blocking the few stubborn cameras, and hoisted her onto a stretcher. Kim’s stomach lurched—she looked like a broken doll, head lolling, blood matting her hair.

He stumbled into the ambulance after her, voice cracking as paramedics tore into action. “What’s happening?! Is she—why isn’t she moving?!” A medic pressed on her chest—CPR, rhythmic and desperate—while another checked her pulse. “She’s got a pulse, faint but there,” the medic barked, not looking up. “Not waking up—head trauma, maybe internal. We’re losing time!”

Kim gripped the stretcher’s edge, trembling. “She’s alive? You’re sure?!”

“Pulse is holding—for now,” the medic snapped. “Hospital’s close—hold on.” The siren wailed, the ambulance tearing through the streets, and Kim stared at Y/N—pale, blood everywhere, chest barely rising. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just whispered, “You’re tough, Y/N-ah… don’t give up…”

At the hospital, they barreled into the ER, Y/N whisked away behind swinging doors. Kim sank against the wall, hands shaking as his phone buzzed—Seungcheol. He answered, voice a ghost. “H-Hyung? What’s happening?!” Seungcheol’s panic bled through.

Kim swallowed, fumbling. “They got her out… she’s in the ER now. She’s got a pulse—barely—but she’s not waking up. Blood everywhere… I-I don’t know more yet. Don’t come—it’s still a mess out there. I’ll call when it’s safer.”

“Not waking up?!” Seungcheol’s voice broke. “Hyung, what do you mean ‘barely’?! Is she—”

“She’s alive, Cheol,” Kim cut in, trembling. “That’s all I’ve got. Pray—I’ll call soon.” He hung up, sliding to the floor, head in his hands, the image of Y/N’s bloodied face burned into his mind.

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

Back at the dorm, silence smothered the room. Thirteen boys sat petrified, aprons still tied, the kitchen a frozen tableau of their last happy moment. Seungcheol slumped on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving in a silent prayer. DK and Seungkwan clung together, tears streaking their faces, while Hoshi rocked back and forth, fists clenched. Vernon stared at the floor, breathing shallow, and Woozi gripped a cushion so tight his knuckles whitened. The crash replayed in their heads—her scream, that sickening crunch, then nothing.

Jeonghan jolted upright, voice shaky. “Her parents—we have to tell them. They need to know!”

Seungcheol’s eyes snapped open, red-rimmed. He nodded, slow and heavy, and stood, grabbing his phone with trembling hands. The others watched, breath held, as he dialed Y/N’s mom. It rang once, twice—then a warm, “Hello, Seungcheol-ah?” crackled through.

He opened his mouth, but no words came. His knees buckled, and he sank back, phone slipping as sobs tore out. “I-I’m sorry… it’s my fault… I should’ve picked her up—I should’ve—” His voice shattered, tears streaming, and he buried his face in his hands. “She’s hurt, and I didn’t—I failed her!”

Joshua lunged forward, grabbing the phone as Mingyu and DK flanked Seungcheol, pulling him into a hug. “Hyung, stop—it’s not your fault!” Mingyu said, voice thick. “It’s an accident—no one saw this coming!”

DK gripped his shoulder, crying, “You’re the best leader—she’d say it too! Don’t do this!”

Wonwoo took the phone, steadying himself despite his own shaking hands. “Hi, it’s Wonwoo… I’m so sorry to call like this. Y/N—she was in a taxi, and there was an accident. A bad one. We don’t know everything yet—she’s in the ER, alive but unconscious. The manager’s with her… we’re waiting for news.”

A gasp, then a trembling, “Oh my God… my baby… is she—” Her mom’s voice broke, muffled sobs filtering through.

“She’s fighting,” Wonwoo said, voice cracking. “She’s got a pulse—they’re working on her. We’ll call the second we know more. We’re so sorry…”

“Thank you… please, keep us updated,” her mom managed, barely audible through tears, before the line clicked off.

Wonwoo dropped the phone, turning to Seungcheol, who was still a wreck, Mingyu and Jun holding him tight. “Cheol, listen—they don’t blame you. No one does. She’s strong—she’ll pull through.”

Seungcheol shook his head, voice raw. “I’m the leader—I should’ve protected her! She was laughing, and now—now she’s—” He choked, unable to finish, burying his face in Mingyu’s shoulder.

Seungkwan sobbed louder, clinging to DK. “She can’t leave us—she’s our sunshine! What if she doesn’t wake up?!”

Hoshi punched the couch, tears spilling. “I should’ve dragged her home—I knew she was tired! This is on me!”

Woozi snapped, voice hoarse, “Stop it—all of you! Blaming ourselves won’t help her! She’s alive—that’s what matters!”—but his eyes were wet, betraying his own fear.

Vernon whispered, “That scream… it’s stuck in my head… she was so scared…”

Joshua knelt by Seungcheol, voice soft but firm. “She’s a fighter, Coups. She’s got us, her family—she’s not giving up. We wait, we pray, and we’re there when she wakes up.”

They huddled closer, a broken circle of aprons and tears, the kitchen’s burnt rice and spilled sauce a cruel reminder of minutes ago when she’d been laughing. Time stretched, each second a knife, as they clung to the fragile hope of her pulse, waiting for the call that could shatter or save them.

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

An hour bled into eternity outside the ER. Manager Kim paced, hands trembling, joined by other HYBE staff who’d rushed over—faces pale, voices hushed. A doctor had emerged earlier, voice clinical: “Severe head trauma—she’s still unconscious. We’re running brain scans now.” Kim nodded, numb, as staff whispered plans to shield the scene. Inside, Y/N lay still, a tangle of wires and blood, fighting a battle no one could see.

Hours dragged—two, three, four—until finally, the ER doors swung open. Nurses and doctors wheeled Y/N out, her face pale beneath bandages, tubes snaking from her arms. Kim stumbled forward, “Is she—?”

The doctor’s expression was grim. “She’s in a coma. Pulse is stable, but the impact was severe—head trauma, possible brain swelling. We don’t know when she’ll wake up. Could be days, weeks, months… she’s out of immediate danger, but it’s a waiting game.” Kim’s knees buckled, nodding lifelessly as the doctor explained, words like “monitoring” and “prognosis” blurring into static. They moved her to a private room, a sterile cocoon of beeping machines and white walls.

HYBE staff huddled, voices low. “We’ll release a statement—cancel her promotions, indefinite hiatus,” one said, typing furiously. “Keep it vague but honest. Fans need to know she’s alive.” Kim stared at the floor, the weight of “coma” crushing him.

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

At the dorm, silence reigned, a stark contrast to their usual chaos. Seungcheol sat hunched, eyes shut, apron still dangling from his neck. The others scattered—DK and Seungkwan curled together, Hoshi pacing, Vernon staring blankly. Wonwoo sat in a corner, glasses fogged with unshed tears, while Jun gripped a cushion, knuckles white, and Minghao leaned against the wall, face unreadable but eyes red.

Seungcheol’s phone buzzed, shattering the quiet. He answered, voice hollow. “Hyung, tell me she’s okay…”

Kim’s voice cracked through. “She’s out of the ER… in a coma. Stable but unconscious—head trauma. Doctors say it could be weeks, months… no one knows. She’s in a private room now.”

A collective gasp ripped through the room. Seungcheol’s phone slipped, clattering to the floor. “Coma… months?!” His voice broke, tears spilling.

DK sobbed, “She was supposed to perform tomorrow! This isn’t happening!”

Seungkwan clutched him, wailing, “She’s alive, right? Tell me she’s alive!”

“She is,” Kim said, strained. “Pulse is there—just not awake. Did you call her parents?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan rasped, picking up the phone. “They know. When can we see her?”

“Another manager’s coming—back entrance, hoodies, hats. No fans can spot you. Be ready.”

They moved like ghosts, shedding aprons for hoodies, pulling hats low. Wonwoo wiped his glasses, muttering, “She was laughing… how’s this real?” Jun tugged his hood up, voice tight, “She’s too stubborn to leave us… right?” Minghao adjusted his cap, whispering, “She has to wake up—she promised me a dance battle…”

In the car, silence choked them. DK scrolled his phone, voice trembling. “Tomorrow was her first stage… look at this…” He held up the screen—HYBE’s statement: “Due to a serious accident, Y/N’s promotions are canceled. She’s receiving treatment and will be on indefinite hiatus. Please respect her privacy.” Below, leaked crash pics spread like wildfire—Y/N’s taxi, a crumpled wreck, blood streaking the blurry figure inside. “That’s her… all that blood…”

Hoshi snatched the phone, hurling it to the seat. “Don’t look! She’s not—she’s not that picture!” His voice cracked, fists shaking.

Mingyu stared out the window, tears falling. “She was just here… yelling at me about socks…”

Vernon whispered, “That scream… it’s all I hear…”

Seungcheol gripped the wheel, knuckles white despite not driving. “We’ll see her—she’ll feel us there. She has to.”

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

At the hospital, the back entrance swallowed them, a manager guiding them through dim halls. They reached Y/N’s room, and the sight hit like a punch—her lifeless on the bed, head wrapped in bandages, face bruised and swollen, machines beeping a fragile lifeline. Blood stained her gown, tubes snaked everywhere, and she didn’t move.

Seungcheol froze, then sank to his knees by her bed, sobbing, “Y/N-ah… I’m sorry… I should’ve been there…”

DK collapsed beside him, tears soaking the sheets. “Wake up, please—you’re supposed to yell at me tomorrow!”

Seungkwan clutched her hand, wailing, “You’re our sunshine—don’t leave us like this!”

Hoshi hovered, shaking, “You’re tougher than this—come on, fight!”

Wonwoo stood by her head, glasses fogging again, voice a whisper, “You said you’d read my next book pick with me… you can’t break that…”

Jun gripped the bedrail, tears spilling, “You owe me a prank, Y/N-ah… wake up so I can lose spectacularly…”

Minghao knelt, brushing her arm, voice cracking, “We’ve got that dance battle—you don’t get to ditch me…”

Woozi lingered back, fists clenched, muttering, “I wrote those songs for you—don’t make me sing them alone…”

Jeonghan leaned against the wall, tears silent, “You’re our chaos… this isn’t you…”

Joshua knelt with Seungcheol, praying, “She’s strong—she’ll come back…”

Vernon stared, voice barely audible, “That laugh… we need it back…”

Mingyu hovered, sobbing, “Who’s gonna nag me now? You can’t just stop…”

Dino gripped her other hand, tears dripping, “You’re my twin—don’t leave me solo…”

The managers and staff slipped out, closing the door on the broken circle. An hour ago, she’d been dancing, laughing on facetime—now, she was a shell, and they were wrecks, crying into the void of her coma. The room echoed with sobs and prayers, a desperate plea for their maknae to wake.

236 notes · View notes

lay-z · 7 months ago

Text

🕊 Day 10 – Santa Soap and his most dangerous mission

A continuation to 🌨 Day 2 – Quaint, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: At the annual Christmas party on base, you’re torn between making a quick escape and holding out to get a glimpse of someone special.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; cussing; nicotine addiction; friendship; mutual pining; medical inaccuracies; humour; fluff; friends/teammates to lovers

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

You’ve made the internal decision that you’ll clock the next bloody bastard who dares to approach you only to comment on your appearance tonight. The fact that you’re wearing a dress and heels and some makeup for a rare change, has definitely gained too much attention from the wrong crowd.

Standing in a corner of the adapted and decorated event location, close to the ceiling-to-floor windows that lead to the equally decorated large balcony, you pick at the sleeve of your dress with one hand while holding an empty wine glass in the other, feeling yourself getting terribly antsy as the night progresses.

Hell, it has already slipped your mind at this point in the evening, why you even decided to get all dolled up. You hate the attention from male soldiers here on base, especially superiors who might take it the wrong way, though you could care less about the rookies. You stand above their opinions and the rumours about you.

You’re at a point where you’d kill for a ciggy right about now, but you’re trying to quit the dirty habit to start the New Year a better person than last. So, cold turkey, because you’re that determined and petty to quit after both Gaz and Soap taunted you about never being able to do it. On top of that, more alcohol is also not an option, because it would only worsen the need for a beloved cancer stick.

Glancing at the watch on the wall, you see that it’s been barely an hour since you showed up here, and you’re already mentally debating if it’s appropriate to make an early escape back to your quarters. Perhaps you can dodge Captain Price on your way out, the man who’d secretly ordered you to socialize and mingle.

However, in the back of your mind, there’s also that nagging voice that keeps making your stomach twist and knot with questionable words and thoughts, and desires, about your Lieutenant.

You haven’t seen him yet… and most importantly, he hasn’t seen you!

No, you didn’t dress up for Ghost, of course not. That would be so silly and frankly, also pathetic.

“Oh, look at ye!”

Once Soap’s voice reaches your ears over the noise of the surrounding crowd, you fear your eyes might roll back so far into your skull that they might get stuck this time.

You cross your arms over your chest awkwardly, still holding the empty wine glass, “Will you leave me alone already? No, I don’t wanna kiss under your fucking mistletoe and I’m not gonna call you ‘Santa Soap’, either.”

Gaz practically spawns next to Soap, wearing a matching Santa hat like the goofy Scotsman, a drink in his hand, pearly whites gleaming in the dim light as he grins mischievously, “Now, why would you be such a grump on this fine evening, Sergeant? Our Santa here’s simply trying his best to spread the Christmas spirit.”

Meanwhile, Soap nods enthusiastically while fetching another mistletoe from the inside pocket of his dark grey lumber jacket, just like the one you’d previously thrown away when he tried to make you kiss him earlier.

“Did you seriously bring more than one?”

Soap nods innocently, bright blue eyes shining with mirth and liquor, “Aye, ‘course. Cannae show up unprepared, my wee she-elf.”

Gaz snorts, “Always pack enough ammo.” He nods approvingly and takes a sip of his drink.

You roll your eyes again, “Ugh, shut up you two.”

“Aw, are we a bit narky, eh? Need a ciggy that bad already, lassie?” Soap coos tauntingly, grinning boyishly when you scoff and turn your back to them dismissively, a clear pout on your red-painted lips.

“I think she’s just vexed, because our Lt. didn’t show up yet.” Gaz mumbles into his glass, peeking over the rim as he gauges your reaction.

That makes your breath falter momentarily, because have you been that obvious lately?

After you spent that night on guard duty with Ghost a few weeks ago, you felt like you’d made progress with him. He’d opened up a bit about his childhood and past, though he always kept things sort of vague, and in return, you were soaking up each tiny bit of intel you could gather about him, eager to solve the puzzle – or get a glance of the display picture of the puzzles' carton, at least.

The mystery about him didn’t stop your rapidly cementing crush on him, either. And it’s an odd feeling, falling in love, after so many years of successfully throwing yourself into your career instead of focusing on a possible romantic relationship.

Who knew you’d find the latter at your bloody job of all places.

You look down into your wine glass, swirling the last ruby droplet around as you bite your tongue, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Here you are, thinking you were being sneaky with your growing – and much forbidden – infatuation with your superior.

Soap nudges Gaz’ side while you’re not looking, shaking his head at his friend and teammate with his thick brows furrowed chidingly, making Gaz shrug in return, his expression apologetic before he lifts his drink up to his lips again.

“Think I saw him head out on the balcony, lassie,” Soap remarks, his voice surprisingly serious and soft for a change, “If ye’re stealthy enough ye might catch him.”

“We both know that’d be impossible, Johnny,” you retort languidly as you lift up the wine glass to slurp up the tiny droplet, “No one can sneak up on Simon. Plus, he’s not here, so stop lying.”

“Simon?!” The men bark in unison, eyebrows shooting up as if you’d just insulted their mothers.

“Oooh, since when are you two on first name basis?” Gaz inquires curiously, his warm brown eyes getting that familiar spark whenever he smells potential new gossip – gossip you won’t provide this time.

“We’re not,” you lie, smacking your lips as you crave another drink – and a cigarette along with it, “– and if we were, I wouldn’t tell you, Garrick.”

Soap snickers, stepping around you and giving your shoulders a few squeezes. He rubs them obnoxiously until you shrug him off with an annoyed click of your tongue and a glare over your shoulder.

“Could you stop? You’re so annoying.”

Gaz laughs as he watches you and Soap act like cat and dog, his eyebrow quirking with a knowing smile when Soap pries the wine glass out of your hand next, giving your back a soft shove towards the balcony doors.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’ll keep bein’ annoyin’, so ye better take a breather now, sweetheart.”

“Muppets,” you mutter under your breath, getting more agitated by their behaviour, “Both of you!”

Gaz lifts his hands in surrender, chuckling as he takes a side step to let you walk past while you keep mumbling to yourself under your breath.

“Risky,” Gaz remarks, flashing a grin at Soap once you’re out of ear shot, “This might be your best work so far… or a guaranteed arse kicking, MacTavish. You don’t think she’ll notice?”

“Nah,” Soap sighs dreamily, looking in the direction you left in before he perks up again, “Let’s get another drink, eh?”

As you step outside onto the balcony, you take a swift glance around before you immediately regret not bringing your jacket as the icy winds swirl about.

Hugging your arms around yourself, you take a few sauntering steps farther out on the spacious balcony, admiring the fairy lights wrapped around the long railing and the clear night sky as you tip your head back to look at the moon and stars.

It’s still a wonder to you, how unique the sky looks in different countries; have you spent some of your time on deployments simply stargazing whenever you found yourself on guard duty and whenever you felt safe enough to do so.

And suddenly, as the noises from inside, all the chatter and boisterous laughter and music, are simply muffled into the background, you feel utterly lonely and… strangely defeated.

“What the hell am I even doing here?” You groan quietly and sigh deeply, warm breath puffing and fogging up in the cold.

“That’s what ‘m askin’ myself.”

Nearly jumping out of your skin with a gasp, you almost turn your ankle in your pumps as you flinch away from the dark corner to your right.

You can only see the flickering flame of a lighter first, followd by the amber glow of a cigarette tip, blue smoke curling in the darkness and evaporating into nothingness, before the behemoth of a man steps out of the shadows towards you, like the grim reaper himself, living up to his name as Ghost.

“Fucking hell, Simon,” you chide, still breathing heavily as you clutch your rapidly beating heart, though now it’s beating for a whole different reason, “You need to stop scaring people like that!”

“Not my problem you’re jumpy like a little bunny.” He retorts gruffly, though you can clearly hear the smile in his voice before you can see it.

His simple, black balaclava is rucked up over his nose again as he takes another lazy drag of his cigarette while his dark eyes give you an agonizingly slow once over, one that has your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. He keeps the smoke in his lungs as he speaks, “You look nice. Different.” He exhales.

Needless to say, you don’t clock him for that.

“Different,” you repeat under your breath as you look at him; drinking in the exposed, pale skin of his neck, his cheeks, his mouth, as always. You notice that he shaved. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that clings to his muscular thighs nicely, a dark hoodie and black leather jacket along with boots.

He looks nice. Hot, actually. God... he’s so hot...

“Aye, different as in nice. Want me to tell ya that you’re beautiful?” He asks bluntly, taking another drag, “Would feel wrong to tell ya that now, lass. You were already beautiful without all –“ He makes a vague gesture to your face and dress, “– ‘o that.”

“Okay, thanks.” You squeak; your throat now terribly dry. There is nothing you would love more than snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers to take a greedy drag and calm your jangled nerves.

“Mhmm,” he hums, then and doesn’t stop staring; his onyx eyes flickering over your form as if he’s assessing you.

“Why are you out here anyway?” He makes another gesture at your outfit, “Dressed like that. It’s too cold, ya dafty.”

You could ask him the same, but you feel like you know the answer to that. He hates crowds and avoids social gatherings if he can help it, but Price has ordered him to attend just like he did you.

“I just... needed some air,” you shrug and Ghost nods as he fetches a pack of smokes from his chest pocket, flicking the lid open with his thumb before holding it out to you.

Your fingers twitch against your arms, nails clawing into the fabric of your dress while your nostrils flare as you get a whiff of sweet, sweet tobacco. But then, the nagging voices of Gaz and Soap echo in your mind, and if they would catch you smoking out here, you’d never hear the end of it – and frankly, that’s not worth your nerves.

“Can’t,” you croak out, refusing reluctantly. Your eyes flit from his offer up to his eyes while he raises an eyebrow under his mask questioningly, “I quit.”

Ghost snorts, flicking the lid closed again, “Why?” The small pack disappears back into his pocket.

“Someone told me it’s unhealthy,” you jest with a small shrug, hugging your arms tighter around yourself as the cold starts seeping into your bones.

“Hmpf,” he hums again and pauses before he takes another slow drag, “What an arsehole.” He exhales through his nose, smoke curling into the air as he smiles bemusedly.

And then, there is a tense pause as you watch how the golden glow of the surrounding fairy lights reflect in his dark brown eyes, adding a sudden soft warmth to his lingering gaze.

“Can you blow some smoke in my face?” You ask, biting your inner cheek before adding, “I read that’s what pregnant ladies do when they struggle to quit smoking at once.”

“Bollocks.” He barks out a laugh, flashing his slightly crooked teeth you’ve come to adore so much. Teeth who’ve been broken violently and been fixed too many times.

“It’s true!” You whine playfully, chuckling along with him, and then he gives you an odd look, his lips tighten into a line before he speaks, “Close yer eyes.”

Your stomach does a flip at his soft-spoken command, your heart flutters violently as he takes a step closer, taking a long drag. And then, you do as he says and close your eyes, tilting your head back expectantly.

A few seconds later, the warm caress of his breath and thick cigarette smoke brush over your cold skin, making your skin pebble underneath your dress. You inhale greedily, lips parting slightly as you try to catch the taste of it discreetly.

“More?” He rasps and you nod slowly, keeping your eyes closed, “Yes, please.” You utter softly.

Another few seconds later, you hear the crunch of boots on concrete, and then you suddenly feel the tentative press of chapped lips on yours.

Your eyes squeeze together, and you nearly pull back in shock, but his hand is already cupping the back of your head gently, his other warm mammoth hand resting on your waist; his body heat seeping through your dress as he closes the distance between your bodies. The fabric of his balaclava brushes against your face as your noses nudge together before makes you tilt your head.

He kisses you slowly, somewhat clumsily, as if he’s calculating and overthinking each move of his lips, but by God, it’s good. So good, and so much better than you always imagined, because it’s real.

Your hands slip to the front of his broad, buff chest, fingers clutching his open leather jacket and holding on for dear life as your brain starts to shut off. The tip of his tongue brushes against the seam of your mouth and your lips part wider on instinct. His tongue dives in, seeking and rolling against yours almost timidly, and you can taste the nicotine, the whiskey, and the remnant minty taste of his toothpaste.

When a soft moan is torn from your throat, his hand squeezes your hip and his fingers brush through your hair before he grips the nape of your neck, holding you in place when he pulls back, breaking the first kiss you shared.

Your breaths mingle, hot and panting, as you gaze at each other with half-lidded eyes. His heart is thudding harshly against his chest, feeling it clearly beneath your palm, though it matches your own rapid heartbeat.

“...’m sorry, bunny,” Ghost says eventually, his voice rough and husky, his lips still brushing yours as he speaks, “I just... couldn’t keep ignoring that bloody mistletoe.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #soap #tf 141 #john mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod:mw #reader insert #cod advent calendar 2024

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neptuneiris · 9 months ago

Text

Cruel Summer (03/10)

Against the Tide

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: at Crown's family tensions rise and you keep running into a person you shouldn't talk to. but both he and you can't help testing the waters.

words: 9.3k

thank you to @peachysunrize for being my beta reader, she also helped me in the previous chapter and I forgot to mention her, but finally here she is. love you bestie!❤

previous part • next part • series masterlist

I am so excited for you to read this chapter! from the next chapters onwards, what we have been waiting for begins (forbidden love)🤭 and I want to thank you once again for all the support you are giving to the story, you guys are amazing and you don't know how much I appreciate it🙏🏻 now enjoy!

warnings: half smut, language.

Sunset's Pier stretches along the boardwalk, a vibrant and lively place, especially on summer evenings.

In the distance, waves break gently against the pier and shore pillars, while palm trees sway in the cool ocean breeze.

Wooden planks creak under the feet of visitors, while the smell of the sea and freshly made food fills the air.

The stores lining the pier are clearly divided, some full of luxury, with glittering windows displaying designer dresses and accessories. And there are other more modest stores, where prices are more affordable.

Or as it would be technically said among the locals of Sunset's: stores for the rich and stores for the poor.

After an exhausting afternoon trying to surf with the boys, Alysanne drags you into the stores, excited to find something nice for tonight's party.

The two of you walk between shop windows, exploring the options, especially in the stores where you can both afford to shop. But Alysanne stops in front of one of the more expensive stores.

You watch as she gawks at a blue bikini on display on the mannequin, the color as deep as the ocean at sunset.

"Look at this!" she exclaims excitedly, almost pressing her face against the glass, "It would be perfect for tonight's party. If only I had the money to buy it," she murmurs between excited and disappointed.

You smile, understanding the desire. The bikini is really beautiful but it is obvious that the price must be very high.

"Don't you have any savings?" you ask her.

"No," she laments, "I used it to fix my phone, did you forget? I can't afford to buy a new one so I have to fix the one I already have."

"Well, I guess I—

A high-pitched laugh interrupts the conversation and when you both turn around, you instantly recognize the people.

Perfectly coiffed black hair and shiny red hair. All those impeccably dressed girls, with expensive handbags, gold accessories and designer sunglasses; Baratheon and Lannister.

But you distinguish precisely Floris Baratheon, Aemond's girlfriend.

All of them in a group watch you both with a mocking face for two things; for being in front of a store like this and for being longing for the beautiful blue bikini.

And even though they don't know you, it doesn't matter that they bother you for the radar of recognizing poor people, because the difference between you and Alysanne is too big compared to them, who can afford to shop here.

Especially since the top you are wearing at the moment is torn on one side. You don't see much but they've already seen it, as well as inspecting your dirty, old tennis shoes.

"Do you really think you can buy anything here?" speaks precisely Floris with a venomous tone, with a sneer as he looks at the bikini and then at both of you, "It's a shame you can only look. Not everyone has the privilege of affording something so nice."

"Yeah, maybe someday you can get it... in the next millennium sales."

They laugh among themselves, clearly enjoying the moment of superiority. And you clench your jaw, annoyed, especially as you watch Alysanne lower her gaze in humiliation.

"Excuse me, do we know you?" you inquire.

You obviously know them, but you won't indulge them.

"Oh dear, everyone here knows us, especially me," Floris says superiorly, adjusting her sunglasses.

"Even your kind know who we are," Cerelle also speaks with clear contempt.

Alysanne regains her composure and you instantly notice.

"Yes, we know you are such a bunch of idiotic, shallow people for thinking that the price of clothing defines someone."

"Some of us have more important things in life than spending money on something so insignificant," you too stand up for yourself and your people.

They all let out a laugh, where Floris takes a step toward you.

“Yeah, sure. The poor always find an excuse to justify their misery. How pathetic and sad," she feigns an exaggerated pout.

"I'd rather be poor than be as empty as you," Alysanne next to you snaps at her.

She arches an eyebrow at her, amused and clearly entertained, as she folds her arms in her arrogant attitude.

"Empty, huh? Well, it's better to be empty than desperate, like you two. Keep dreaming of things you can never have. But don't worry, being poor and living on the filthy side of town, dreaming is free."

"And who do you think you are huh?" Alysanne lunges at her, "You think because you are rich I can't break your face or what?"

You quickly stop her holding her by the arm, worried and of course, Floris recoils back with a frightened face and her friends don't take long to instantly surround her, shielding her as if they were her wall of protection.

"Not so talkative and brave now huh!?"

"Hey, Aly," you hold her back, "Stop it. It's not worth it."

Floris and all of them look at you both with despise.

"See? They're all savages," she says without again getting too close.

"Oh yes, very savage, just because we're defending ourselves from you making fun of us and making us less," Alysanne tells her firmly and in a defiant tone, "But you can't even defend yourself. So I advise you to talk less or I'll break that pretty rich girl face of yours."

It is clear that Floris wants to say more mean words, but she stops when she notices someone else walking towards the group, completely oblivious to the situation and you also recognize this person; Helaena Targaryen.

She with her usual calm, appears near you, but stops just in front of another nearby store, casually observing a clothing through the glass without noticing the tensions.

And you curiously notice how Floris, upon seeing her, remains silent for a moment. Then you guess that she doesn't want to show her true colors in front of her sister-in-law.

"Let's go," she orders in a lower and less confident tone than before.

Her friends obey without another word and begin to walk away, but not before giving your cousin a last contemptuous and disdainful glance at your side.

And you too, of course.

Helaena also leaves with them as they approach her, her silver hair shining in the sunlight and moving with impeccable grace.

Alysanne lets out a frustrated sigh next to you, still angry.

"I can't believe those idiots think they have the right to treat us like this. And all because of what? For not being rich like them?" she inquires in disbelief, "Do you realize how stupid that is?"

"Let them stay in their bubble," you mutter, feeling just as irritated, "We're not rich but we're better people than they are."

Alysanne takes a deep breath, shaking off the adrenaline of the moment, then you both go your own way, trying not to let this thing that happened ruin your day.

Especially since you have another party tonight, unfortunately with those girls, but it's not like you're going to be with them.

And just as ten o'clock at night falls, Cregan's car and the excited shouts of the guys rushing you to get into the car can be heard practically all over the street.

Alysanne again shushes them, as your uncle and aunt are asleep, as well as most likely the neighbors, and you both quickly get into the car amidst laughter and scolding of the guys.

Then Cregan's car speeds up and soon all of you are walking into the Crown's side.

The party is as always; on the beach. And it's everything you'd expect being among the rich. The DJ can't miss, the clean beach, the pier, the yachts and the smell of alcohol mixed with the sea breeze, among other substances.

Tonight you decide not to focus on the people around you and together with the guys, sit on the white sand, while Cregan and Sam go for as many beers and bottles of champagne as possible.

Alysanne is also not in the mood to be inspecting and lusting after Pandora accessories on all the rich girls that are here. So the two of you relax.

Chase lights the bonfire in the center and pretty soon everyone is drinking, talking and laughing, enjoying the party and nothing else.

Every now and then some guys come up to greet Cregan, who greets them back without much enthusiasm and returns to the group, where you notice how attentive he is especially to Alysanne.

You don't say anything and just continue drinking, laughing at the guys' jokes and burning a few marshmallows, when then... you feel it.

A piercing look on your face.

You don't doubt it's a girl inspecting you, so you don't think anything of it at first. But then... it's as if that look burns you and wants to see through you, sending shivers through your whole body.

You look around, just out of curiosity, but when you raise your gaze absentmindedly towards the direction of the yachts, to the part of the deck specifically, your eyes meet piercing blue eyes.

Then you see him.

Aemond Targaryen.

Time seems to stand still and you feel more of the weight of his gaze, that same weight you felt last night on the pier, when he caught you.

You also feel a surge of nerves course through your body, with your heart racing as you remember the night before. It's not fear, but it's something close to it.

Because now he's caught you here too, at a party of his people, at Crown's.

And the weird thing is that you didn't expect it and you feel so silly about the fact. How could you not think that he would be here and that the two of you would probably see each other after last night?

Even though it's no longer a probability, he's seeing you right now and sees what you're doing; pretending to be one of them.

You watch as his gaze briefly sweeps over the guys you're with and honestly... you don't know how to feel about it. Technically, you're not doing anything wrong here either, are you?

‘Then why do you feel so embarrassed?’

His piercing eye again focuses on you and you, for some strange reason, don't look away and neither does he. It's as if the two of you are caught in a game you can't avoid.

No one seems to notice the silent exchange between the two of you, except you and him. But you know that talking to him, getting close to him in public, is impossible.

You know it and you know he knows it too. It's like a law in Sunset's among its locals but more specifically among those your age; the rich and the poor can't be friends.

You bite the inside of your cheek, even without both of you looking away, where both of you are too far away to say anything to each other, but the looks say it all.

Then, it is he who looks away when Floris holds his face and kisses him softly on the lips, claiming his attention. You feel a sting of something pinch your stomach and you force yourself to stop focusing on him as well.

You try to refocus on what the guys around you are saying, but you can't, not now that he's here too.

You didn't tell anyone about what happened last night with him on his pier, because nothing really bad happened, except the fact that you almost got caught.

It was just a conversation with the son of the richest man in the whole country and heir to his fortune, nothing more.

Although the memory has followed you ever since.

Unable to help yourself, you look at him again, where you see him surrounded by his friends and also distinguish his brother, Aegon. And of course, Floris, sitting on his lap.

He is no longer watching you but you wonder what he might be thinking now that he has seen you here too.

'Probably nothing.'

You think, since for him, what happened on the pier was just a conversation, a small slip in which you both sought some solace and nothing more, an insignificant moment.

What else could he think of having shared his time with a Black Waves girl?

You let out a long breath and your eyes roam his features, as the same thoughts from last night return to your mind when you were also slyly admiring him.

'He is so handsome.'

You think as you also admire his short silver hair and see a silver chain peeking out from between the collar part of his shirt, with that simple accessory making him look so ridiculously good.

But you cannot pass Floris Baratheon unnoticed, on his lap, talking to him and leaving from time to time some kisses on his lips or on his cheek.

You shake your head, clearly being impossible, since he belongs to a world that is not yours, to a social class that would see you as an intruder if you even tried to approach.

So you can only think that what happened on the pier was just a one-time thing, a quirk and a moment that you must now bury in oblivion.

Aemond Targaryen, as a child, does not remember a single moment when his family did not attract attention.

He does not remember a single moment where his mother did not ask him, as well as his siblings, to accompany her and his father to an event in the town for work and simply to see them all together as a perfect and powerful family.

He has forgotten the countless times where his father, Viserys, introduces him and his siblings to his associates and all those important people more as trophies than as what they really are; his children.

With Aegon the introduction is brief, for after all, no one expected his first eldest son not to follow in his same footsteps as his older first daughter did, Rhaenyra.

But Aemond knows that Aegon is... uncontrollable.

As a teenager he began to show signs that he didn't want to go into business or anything like it or anything relatively formal.

As much as his mother, Alicent, and even his own father and grandfather Otto tried to scold, persuade and convince him, it only caused Aegon to back away from the idea and start doing whatever he pleased.

For him only desire has always been to simply live life and find out what he really wants.

Then there is Helaena, who followed the same path as Aegon but in a more controlled way and with different aspirations to life though just as flattering, which is to study marine biology.

And finally there is him, Aemond Targaryen.

He saw the whole process of his older brothers in deciding not to devote himself to the business or rather empire that his father has built. With Aegon it all turned out to be a disaster but Helaena was more persuasive.

So someone had to do it, follow in his father's footsteps as Rhaenyra did, but this time a man, a son and that had to be him.

Daeron still lacked time to decide and grow up some more. So he watched as his father began to despair and have fights with his mother and everyone at home for not being able to choose the aspirations and decisions of his children.

So it was he who calmed the storm at home when he announced that he would apply to college to study business management to carry on the Targaryen legacy, just like Rhaenyra.

His father was overjoyed, as was his mother and for the first time, in that small moment, Aemond felt that he was finally receiving that recognition and appreciation from him.

But then he realized that it was never worth it.

After searching for so long for a way for his father to finally see him for what he is, his son, when that moment came it wasn't worth it and it didn't make him feel any better.

Because Aemond knows deep down that only his father was happy for him out of convenience, to mold him to how he wants and because that way, he is just another piece on his board.

And it became quite clear to him the moment his father expressed his idea about the Baratheon's.

Viserys, even with all he has and having an advisor at his side like his grandfather Otto, wants more.

And Borros Baratheon is that more by being the owner of the most important commercial fleet operating along the entire Pacific coast of all. Viserys needs to transport freight for its big company, which is what Borros does.

Viserys needs freight for his great enterprise, which is what Borros is all about. But Borros Baratheon is a difficult and greedy man who also wants more, even to Viserys Targaryen himself.

So he and his entire team focus on an easier target that will get him to the finish line; his daughter, Floris.

Any of his daughters would have sufficed, but considering Floris is about the same age as Aemond and his father had already seen her get her hopes up for him at events, it was the perfect idea.

At first Aemond refused. For the moment he had no intention with any girl, especially any of the Baratheon sister’s. But his father insisted.

Viserys explained to him how much he needed such a partnership and asked him to start asking her out to eventually formalize and make the deal with his father easier.

Aemond tried to help him find other alternatives, tried to make him understand that he didn't want nor could he play with Floris' feelings in that way to achieve a partnership.

But none of that helped.

His mother sided with his father, with the difference that she was more sensible on the subject and asked him to try and take the time to get to know her, that maybe he might really like her.

So he had to give in and before long, he was in a formal relationship with Floris Baratheon.

And now this is his life.

Not that much has changed, but there are these fights at home between her mother and father because there's really no love between them.

There's also fighting between his father and his siblings over the choice of what they really want to do with their lives while they're all attending events to pretend to be this perfect family that they are.

And he's in a relationship with a person he doesn't really want to be with and as soon as the summer is over, he's going off to college to study with pressure and expectations on his shoulders for a degree he doesn't really want to study.

But as anyone in Sunset's would think, both Crown's and Black Waves; the Targaryens are perfect.

“Hey.”

A voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he looks up as he sees Aegon approaching him, shorts on, sandals, a white t-shirt, sunglasses and phone in hand.

"I was looking all over for you. What are you doing?"

He lets out a long breath and closes his book to place it back on the shelf.

"What do you want?"

"Get dressed. We have a party tonight," he lets him know, then starts typing on his phone.

"Another one?" he asks with a serious look on his face.

"What?" he becomes indignant, shrugging, "Come on, it's summer. And everyone will be there. Cassandra told me Floris is going."

"I don't want to go."

He looks at him with a frown.

"What are you talking about?" he asks him blankly, "You're going to stay here reading these stupid books all summer? You're going to college for another two months!"

"Helaena and Daeron will go with you, I don't understand why you want me to go too," he tells him grumpily, choosing another of the many books in the library.

"Helaena is sick and Daeron promised to stay with her to watch movies," he tells him as if were the gravest sins in the world, "Come on, man. Come with me. And I won't ask you for anything again, this will be the last time, I promise."

"That's what you always say, like I don't know you," he says as he picks up a book and sets it on the table, "You're just so fucking annoying."

Aegon lets out a frustrated groan.

"Come on, don't be like that. You'll have more time to read and be doing these boring things you like to do," he tries to convince him, pointing to the books.

But Aemond says nothing to him and, of course, Aegon starts to throw his tantrum.

"Aemond," he complains, "Come on, please."

And the sound of his voice is already starting to annoy him, especially being in the library.

“Aegon—

"Come on," he interrupts him, insistent, "I really don't want to stay here and listen to dad yelling and fighting with mom all night, man."

Aemond lets out a long breath again and with nonchalant movements watches his brother over his shoulder, looking serious and now slowly becoming resigned.

And soon enough, they are both already in his car, driving towards the Lannister house.

Normally he wouldn't have agreed to come, but he recognizes that Aegon is right and the truth is that he doesn't want to stay at home listening to his parents' quarrels either.

Even though his house is huge, the shouting echoes through the halls, and then his father in all his anger goes against Aegon as well, where Helaena intervenes, then Daeron and finally him to try to calm the waters.

And he's tired of it.

Just last night another one of those fights happened, his mother was almost in tears and Helaena too, while Aegon and his father were shouting all the worst things possible at each other.

And that's why he decided to go to the pier after he failed to fall asleep.

As he drives, his gaze softens as he remembers you.

He still doesn't understand how a girl like you, from Black Waves, for a whole year was going to his family's pier at midnight without being discovered.

He doesn't understand how you did it either and he's not sure he wants to know. He was about to call security, of that he has no doubt, especially considering the robberies some of his neighbors suffered.

Because that's what he first thought, that you were a thief and he was trying to do something with his yacht.

However, it was something in your fear and pleading, perhaps also that you didn't have something suspicious on hand to try to do harm and the sincerity in your gaze after silently evaluate you that he saw to finally understand that you weren't doing anything wrong.

It was bad to cross over private property but other than that, he saw you earlier, before he approached from a distance, sitting on the edge of the pier looking out over the horizon.

But he still had to make sure and it all turned out very interesting.

That you were on his pier, risking that you could be caught, simply because that place gives you peace and quiet, caught his attention.

It seemed... unusual. Something out of the ordinary. Maybe because you're a Black Waves girl.

But still, it's something he's not used to hearing from others in appreciating something so simple and plain but so meaningful to that person.

And being there with you... everything in his mind disappeared.

All his excessive thoughts, frustrations, pressures, expectations and stress disappeared for a moment, which is very difficult for him to do in the midst of all the storm in his mind.

And strangely, because he shouldn't have, he spent a nice time with you, an unknown Black Waves girl, even if he didn't show it much at the time.

He doubts that was a good idea, to let you stay and still tell you that you can keep going to thepier. But technically... nothing bad happened.

And doubt that I'll ever see you again, last night was just a coincidence, besides that shouldn't happen, right?

In the town where you both live, a poor girl and a rich man can't even be friends. And much less he can afford something like that because of his family name.

Again his thoughts are interrupted as they enter the area where the Lannisters live and Aegon immediately chatter excitedly about how amazing the party looks.

And soon enough the two find themselves walking onto the beach and onto the Lannister dock.

It's the same as always, there's really nothing new, just decorations, DJ, open bar with bottles of vodka, wine and champagne as well as beer, cocktails and the smell of cigarettes and weed in the salty air.

All the people are dancing and getting drunk, as well as there are other people having mini bonfires, drinking and burning marshmallows.

When a group of people catches Aegon's eye on one of the yachts, he takes no time at all to drag him along with him.

And just like that he meets Floris, who greets him very happily with a hug and a kiss on his lips, which he tries to reciprocate as genuinely as possible.

Aegon goes off to find a girl to stick his tongue down her throat and he stays on the yacht with Floris and his friends.

Quickly some of his friends offer him drinks to cheer him up and he declines as he has to drive, so he only chooses to light a cigarette, wanting the night to pass quickly.

And so the hours pass, with nothing really interesting going on around him and Floris sitting on his lap, trying to keep up with her to also try to be a good boyfriend.

But all he wants to do is go home.

"Are you okay?"

Floris' voice brings him out of his thoughts and he turns his head towards her, where she watches him with a small smile on her lips and with one of her hands starting to stroke his short silver hair.

"Yeah," he tells her in a low murmur, then takes another sip from the only bottle of beer he'll be drinking tonight.

"Are you sure? I didn't even know you were coming. I texted you and you didn't respond," she says making a pout.

And he avoids looking instantly annoyed.

It's not that Floris is a bad girl, she really tries because she really loves him. But he doesn't feel the same and doubts he ever will, though he tries.

"Yeah, you're right, sorry, I was busy in the library," he explains briefly.

"At the library?" she repeats confused, "Why?"

"I'm getting a head start on reading books for college," he again explains as briefly as possible.

Luckily she doesn't say anything more on the subject but continues to sit on his lap and try to get him to talk, even though he's not really having any of that right now but he doesn't want to be rude to her either.

So when she starts talking to one of her friends, he looks in all directions, scanning the party without again finding anything interesting.

But then in the midst of analysis he sees it.

Or rather he sees you.

A few meters below him on the sand, confused, he immediately recognizes you, sitting among a group of guys and a girl with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing and talking to all of them.

And again he wonders; what are you doing here?

And you can't blame him, he really doesn't get it, it was surprising enough seeing you on his pier, in the most exclusive and private area of all Crown's as to also see you here, on the Lannister's pier, a Black Waves girl mixed up as if you were one of them.

He sweeps his gaze over all the guys you're with and is more surprised to see you talking and laughing with Cregan Stark.

Then he gets it all.

He's the one who gives you access, as well as your friends and that girl you're with, who he assumes must be your cousin from what you told him last night, all except Cregan belonging to Black Waves.

And there you are, again not hurting anybody, but pretending to belong to Crown's.

All the guys you're with are certainly having a great time and so are you, while he again focuses on Cregan, from whom he honestly expected it.

He doesn't include himself much with the guys from his part of town, sometimes he talks to him or Helaena, but nothing more. Now he knows why.

And somehow he can't take his eye off you.

He watches you curiously, analyzing you, seeing that you have guts, just like your cousin and your friends, to take risks like this.

At any moment anyone could expose you if they watch you too much, but you don't seem to care about that, nor do the others.

And then, his gaze meets yours.

He sees you freeze for a moment, as if you are once again trapped by him, which actually you are and he, for some reason, doesn't look away and neither do you.

Memories of last night invade him again and he can guess how you must be thinking about it too.

But he can also guess how you again feel exposed and how terribly nervous you must feel. As if you are afraid that he, now that he has seen you here too, will expose you once and for all.

But it is as if it were a game of stares, as neither of them look away from each other. It's not as if they can talk, the distance is too much, also considering that he is on top of a yacht.

But what if this were not the case? Would the two of you talk?

Aemond knows perfectly well that they wouldn't.

"Hey, did you hear what I said, babe?"

Floris makes him turn his gaze away from you to focus on her as he feels her turn from his cheek with her hand towards her to plant a soft kiss on his lips, wanting his full attention.

And he awkwardly reciprocates as his attention is still on you.

But he forces himself to take that attention away from you, especially as he still has Floris sitting on his lap with both arms around his neck, glued to him.

And it's here that he assumes, as you do, though he doesn't know it, that what happened last night was just a one-time thing, two people seeking refuge from the world on the pier one night.

But that's all.

The two of you must not know each other, you can't talk or be seen together, mostly because of different social classes, which leads to pretending that the two of you don't know each other and haven't spoken to each other even once.

And what happened that night, on the pier, didn't happen.

A pile of dishes are placed in front of him on the table in the huge back garden of his house which is basically on the shore of the beach, having a spectacular view of the ocean, the beach, the pier, the cliffs around and also the huge houses of his neighbors.

His mother thanks the cooks, who retire and leave his mother, father and him alone.

Aegon must still be asleep, Daeron too because he probably stayed up watching movies with Helaena all nigth who is still very ill. So he is the only one who joins the breakfast.

He looks carefully at a message from Rhaenyra, which is accompanied by two PDF books.

'These books helped me a lot when I first started studying, you can read them if you want to before you go to uni so you have an idea of everything you will learn.'

Aemond reviews both books, both over 400 pages, being very dense material and being exactly what awaits him at college, but he also knows it's important.

He runs a hand down his neck and responds to her text.

'Thank you, Rhae.'

Ever since his older sister knew he would be going into business as well, she's been supporting him.

It's not like from the beginning the two of them had a good relationship, especially since she's the daughter of their father's first wife and there was no first-rate bond, neither with him nor with her other siblings.

But now that she has a family and he has matured enough, at least more than Aegon, that relationship has slowly begun to be forged and maintained.

Besides he is grateful to receive genuine support. Especially from her, already an expert on the subject and with whom he will probably lead the Targaryen empire in the future.

"Are you going to have breakfast, son?"

His mother's soft voice causes him to look away from his phone screen and set it aside, having no interest in responding to messages from Floris or a few of his friends who were with him last night at the party.

"Yeah, sorry."

He tries to catch up with their pace, making himself his cup of coffee the way he likes it.

"Rhaenyra tells me you're planning to take a management course in the middle of summer, son," his father says, catching his attention, "Is that true?"

And he doesn't ask it in a bad way, on the contrary, it surprises Aemond to see how he has pride in his eyes.

"Yeah, well... I think they'll do me good before I go to college."

"Yes, very good idea," Alicent says, watching him proudly as she notices all his dedication to his study, as it has always been.

"Oh yes, of course," Viserys agrees, without hesitation, "Have you found the right course yet?"

"I'm still working on it."

"But..." he frowns slightly, watching him not entirely convinced, "How are things going with that girl... uh... Floris?"

He immediately feels an uncomfortable sensation in his lower abdomen, stirring in his chair as he runs a hand over the back of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to maintain a normal appearance.

"Good," he replies briefly, without looking at him, "Everything's fine."

"Yeah?" he asks seeing his reaction, "You've been hanging out with her?"

"We were together last night," he says without wanting to go into details, wanting to get that topic over with.

And Alicent also sees how his son is starting to react.

"Floris usually comes in often during the day," she tells her husband in a soft tone with a cup of coffee in her hands, "You don't see her because you're at work."

"Well, that's good to know," he says pleased, though not entirely satisfied, turning his focus back to him, "I fully support the idea of the course, it will definitely do you good but... you can't neglect that girl. Your relationship with her is very advantageous to the company and very soon her father and I will start having meetings."

He brings a hand to the back of his neck again, staring at a fixed point on the table as he presses his lips together, controlling his emotions and what he really wants to say to him.

His mother stares at him, alert, not wanting him and his father to have fights too. But it is clear that he too is already reaching his limit.

However, Aemond knows that he has more self-control, besides he's already into all of this, so he has no choice but to accept, again, what his father tells him.

"Is that what you want me to do?" he asks him in a low tone, honestly feeling tired.

"Of course," his father states sternly, as if it were obvious, "We must have all the most suitable people possible in the company. And the Baratheon's are crucial to our expansion."

Aemond looks up, but says nothing, because he already knows the speech. The Baratheon's, power, family and company.

"Yes but that really isn't the most important thing," his mother interjects again, "After all, Floris is a very nice and pretty girl. I can tell she really cares about you, son."

He can't help but purse his lips at that comment. He knows Floris isn't a bad girl but she's not exactly nice either. And that doesn't change the fact that he's not interested in her.

"Yes and for that very reason you must not ruin things with her," his father insists, "We have to partner with her father and you can't let her slip through your fingers."

"Viserys," his mother calls out to him with mild reproach.

"You know how important this is, Alicent," he begins to say with reproach in his tone, "I have already lost hope in Aegon. It seems he will never change and will be a good-for-nothing for the rest of his life, taking nothing seriously."

"Don't talk about your son like that," his mother scolds him.

"I'm not going to live forever and someone has to take over the company and support this family. But that doesn't matter to him in the least," he continues, "Daeron is still young and I'm thankful that at least Aemond has taken the same direction as Rhaenyra and me."

Aemond says nothing as his mother continues to reproach, annoyed to hear how Viserys refers to her children, especially Aegon.

And he remains silent, fed up with these discussions, family pressures, expectations and being the only one of his children whom his father seems to trust.

And the worst thing is that he can't say anything, because he knows very well that his father considers him as his last resort and in a way... he doesn't want to fail him and he doesn't want everything in his family to explode.

Even if it means he has to sacrifice his own life for the good of the family, he has to do this and it's not worth arguing with his father because it's no use and he's not going to change his mind.

His father starts to raise his voice, his mother too and he ends up going to his room with his morning already ruined, annoyed, tired and grumpy.

And when he tries to distract himself, to occupy himself with his own personal matters so as not to think too much, just at that moment Floris comes to visit.

Just now he doesn't have the capacity to want to be around her, or anyone in general, he just wants peace and quiet, but considering the conversation he had with his father, he is not able to ask her as nicely as possible to come another day.

"I was with Cerelle at my house but I got too bored, even though I told her to meet me tonight at the beach."

She begins to talk as she starts pacing all around his room he just sits there with his desk in front of him and a few books open.

"I also talked to Royce, he said he would be coming for a visit soon. My dad is still mad at him for leaving but I'm sure he'll get over it. I also heard that Jeyne wants to have a party the next week and..."

And so he listens to her voice continuously, talking about everything she did and didn't do in her day, while he puts a hand to his forehead and lets out a long breath, trying not to sound irritated.

"Oh and I went to the mall with Cerelle. I bought a beautiful bag and clothes for our trip to Hawaii," she says excitedly, "My dad has already arranged everything and my family is so excited for you to come with us. I'm also..."

Her voice slowly fades slowly, becoming a distant murmur, as he sinks deeper into his seat and stares at a spot in his room.

His brow furrows and his mind drifts further away from the conversation.

He can't find a way to tell her to stop talking without looking rude and frustrated, but the last thing he wants to do is listen to her right now and the last thing he wanted was for her to show up at his house this day.

He has enough going on in his family lately, especially with his father and he's not in the mood to be dealing with people right now.

He's fed up with everything and all he wants is to be alone while a wave of mental exhaustion washes over him. He wants to get away from everyone for a moment, to have no one bother him so he can have peace and quiet.

"Aemond."

The hand on his shoulder and the voice so close to him brings him back to reality. He blinks and raises his gaze to Floris, who watches him in confusion.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," he says awkwardly and clears his throat, "Sorry," he says, turning his gaze to the front and stirring in his chair.

But she raises her hand towards him, placing it gently on his cheek and Aemond tenses immediately, as she forces him to look at her again gently but firmly enough.

"Are you sure? Are you okay?" she asks him genuinely concerned, "You didn't seem to be listening to me."

"Yes I was and I'm fine, don't worry," he tells her trying to sound convincing.

But Floris is having none of it.

"Is it because of your father or college?"

The silence that follows is palpable as he averts his gaze and removes his hand from her face with a nonchalant gesture. He says nothing but it's clear she's hit the nail on the head.

And Floris lets out a long, resigned sigh, already expecting that. For it is so typical of him not to confide his thoughts and feelings to her.

She's tired of her own boyfriend raising this constant wall between the two of them, where he doesn't want to open up to her. It hasn't been long since the two started dating but still, despite being a couple, there is no trust.

"Aemond," she murmurs his name softly and unexpectedly takes a seat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Floris," he calls her name awkwardly as well, trying to shake her off, "Wait, I don't—

"You know you can talk to me about anything," she interrupts him, her tone insistent but with a gentleness that she hopes will soften the situation, "I mean...I'm your girlfriend and I'm here for you whenever you need something, talk or anything."

He lets out a long sigh, feeling the weight of her insistence and the firmness with which she remains sitting on him.

The feeling of oppression invades him, both physically and emotionally.

"It's not... I don't..." he tries to speak, "Look, it's not that I don't want to tell you, but..." he gets frustrated, not finding the words or even the will to talk to her, "It's a lot of things."

"You can tell me," she insists, "Come on, babe. I just want to help you," she says as she begins to stroke his hair.

He close his eye for a moment, his patience quickly wearing thin.

"I don't want to talk," he makes it clear to her in a cold, resigned, tired tone.

She shrugs.

"Then we won't," she says simply, accepting that, "But I want you to understand that I'm here for you."

"Yes, I know," he says without even looking at her, running a hand through his hair.

"We can always do other things," she mentions with a certain tone that Aemond understands instantly.

And before he can do anything, she is already kissing him.

The kiss starts slow and soft, while he has difficulties to reciprocate at first, but Floris doesn't stop and pulls the back of his neck towards her, deepening the kiss.

And he with all the mental chaos he has, tries to reciprocate as best he can, trying to forget at least for a moment.

Floris' hands begin to move down, sliding her fingers slowly over his chest while her other hand gently stroke his hair. Aemond tries to lose himself in the sensation, in the moment and let himself go, so he places both hands on her waist.

She begins to move slightly on top of him, her breathing becoming more agitated and her tongue making its way between his lips, wanting more.

He tries to keep up with her and when Floris begins to rub her center against him, his body responds automatically, letting out a slight grunt without stopping the kiss.

Floris' need is evident and when she brings one of her hands to the edge of his shirt and pulls away from his lips, she watches him with full intent and desire in her gaze, her lips red and swollen.

"I want you now," she murmurs against his lips.

He doesn't say anything, just watches her, truly not so sure. But then he thinks: fuck it.

He's tired and exhausted from carrying the weight of everything around him. He just wants to forget, if only for a few moments. So when Floris starts to take off his shirt, he allows it.

She kisses him again with more intensity and he responds with more fervor than before.

Her hands begin to roam all over his naked torso and he stands up, both hands on her thighs, leading her towards his bed.

Soon Floris is on top of him again and feels a spark of electricity run through his skin as her hands touch the edge of his shorts, but before that happens, she slowly pulls down the straps of her dress.

Aemond watches her wordlessly, with his dark eye and indecipherable expression, as Floris complacently takes her time, enjoying every second, wanting him to desire her.

The straps fall and the top of her summer dress slides off, revealing her breasts. Aemond swallows hard, a mixture of desire and bewilderment passing through his body.

She leans into him again to kiss him, as she takes one of his hands and places it on her breast, prompting him to caress her.

He does so, almost mechanically, trying to let himself go and lose himself in the moment, as she rubs herself against him again, making him more aware of how he begins to get hard, his breathing hitching.

But when Floris' hand descends and slips under his shorts, touching him, it is as if his mind wakes up and sends an alert throughout his body.

Suddenly, he stops kissing her and takes her hand roughly, stopping her. Floris watches him confused and half-naked on top of him, still shaken and not understanding anything.

"Aemond?"

He closes his eye tightly and lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head and bringing a hand to his forehead, clenching his jaw.

"Fuck," he mutters.

"What's wrong?" Floris asks him without understanding what has changed so suddenly.

But he doesn't answer, just shakes his head again and pulls her hand away, to also gently brush her off of him.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

Floris watches him from his bed, still with confusion on her face and quickly adjusts her dress, covering her naked body.

Her breathing is still rapid, but not so much from desire, but from the feeling of rejection that is infiltrating her. And again, for an instant, she thought this would never happen again.

But here they are, him pulling her away and her heart broken again by the humiliation.

"It's been a while," she murmurs, lowering her gaze, “Y-you don't..." her lips tremble, "You don't touch me."

He doesn't look at her, he can't.

"I know. I'm sorry," he says in a low tone, the apology falling with a tone of resignation.

He picks up his T-shirt that's on the floor and puts it on, bringing a hand to his hair, ruffling it in frustration. And Floris watches him still completely confused.

"I just don't get it," she insists, "We're a couple. We should... be okay, I don't know," she says confused, "And I don't understand you. You don't talk to me, Aemond."

Aemond rubs his forehead, the pressure behind his eyes growing. He doesn't know how to explain, doesn't know how to put into words all the thoughts that suffocate him.

And he can't tell her that he doesn't really want to be with her either.

"I need to go," he says flatly.

"What?" she moves quickly, catching his arm, "No, please don't go," she tells him, her tone full of pleading, "I think we should talk."

"I can't, Floris. Not now."

Without trying to be abrupt, he releases his grip and Floris, unmoving, watches him as he takes his phone and car keys without another word.

And he walks away, leaving her alone in his room.

He has no doubt that he will be in trouble for this later, maybe she will mention what happened to her sisters, eventually it will reach her father's ears about her having problems with their relationship and then it will reach his father's ears, demanding explanations from him.

He's not supposed to let her get out of his hands, as his father says, but now he really doesn't care about that.

He doesn't want to be with her and he shouldn't have let that happen. He should have stopped everything the moment she started kissing him.

Sex has been off the table for a while now. He has only slept with her once, when they both started dating for the first time.

He barely remembers it. It was after they both went to a party. He drank a little more than he normally does and assumes that's why what happened at her house happened.

And mostly it hasn't happened again because he doesn't have the interest. He doesn't feel the need with her. And just when he thinks it will finally happen when he lets himself go, in the moment he can't do it because it's feels wrong and pushes her away, leaving the action half done.

And it's not her fault, it's his doing. But he knows that if he explained it to her, she wouldn't understand.

But just like that, another new frustration joins the storm in his mind.

Now he walks towards the pier, the only place where he feels he can breathe. The sound of the waves gently breaking against the wooden pillars, which is the only thing that accompanies him as he sinks into his thoughts.

He doesn't expect anyone to follow him or look for him there. In fact, the last thing he needs is someone else demanding something from him.

For now, he doesn't want to be the perfect son, the boyfriend who should be attentive or the future heir to the family business. What he desperately wants is to escape the expectations that stifle him day after day.

He leans against the wooden stand and stares out into the deep, dark ocean, letting his mind wander, as he feels all the frustration wash over him and in an instant, he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one.

He inhales deeply, letting the smoke invade his lungs, seeking in that sensation a temporary relief from the pressure he constantly feels.

He enjoys his solitude, he has been used to it since he was a child. In many ways, he prefers it and finds it easier.

It is only now that he feels he is getting closer to his family or at least his siblings since his father has put more pressure on everyone. But he has not approached in the way he had hoped.

Aegon is not serious enough to broach the subject and evades his family in clouds of alcohol, parties and girls. Halaena is more independent and wrapped up in her own world, with her way of coping without getting swept away.

Daeron doesn't yet understand the gravity of the expectations that will one day fall on him. And Rhaenyra... she's away with her own family.

And friends... he has no friends. At least, not genuine ones. They are not people he can trust without their own interests involved.

And if he were to talk to any of them, it would be the same as with Floris; an empty conversation, full of awkward silences and expectations.

That's why at times like these, he strangely wishes he had someone to talk to. Someone who doesn't look at him with judgment or see him only as the heir who has to do his duty.

He needs someone who sees him for who he is, without expectations, without judgment. He just wants to be himself, wants to be just Aemond, without the unbearable weight of expectations.

'What would that be like?'

He wonders with genuine interest and even a certain... longing. But he knows he'll probably never know. Not with the life he has.

He inhales deeply once more, the smoke mingling with the salty wind, enjoying the fleeting respite this place affords him. Then in the midst of his peace and quiet, the wood creaks softly under the footsteps that are not his.

He frowns and looks toward the entrance to the pier, thinking maybe it must be some of the security men, but then... he sees you.

He frowns more and attentively, he watches you walk, back straight and with cautious steps, as if trying not to make noise as you walk away, unaware of the creaking wood betraying you.

Then he wonders what you are doing here and why you are leaving.

He remembers that he told you you could come back but doesn't understand why you're leaving. And before he can stop to think about what he is doing, he calls out you'r name.

"Y/N!?"

You stop immediately, your body tensing as if you've been caught doing something you shouldn't, again.

You bite your lips nervously and slowly turn to look at him, some sorrow on your face as he continues to stare at you in confusion.

And well... he's already caught you, again, first here two nights ago, yesterday at the party and now here again, so what's the point?

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I... I didn't see you on my way over here," you explain, "And well... I thought you might want to be alone."

Your gaze focuses on his, and for a second, the whole world seems to shrink down to just the two of you, as if you were the only ones on the beach, under the dim lights of the pier.

And he doesn't say anything to you, he just watches you intently. And you take that as a sign to leave.

"I'll leave you alone," you assure him in a soft tone, starting to turn away.

And again, Aemond without thinking, decides to stop you.

"Wait," he says finally, in a soft voice, "You don't have to go."

You watch him carefully and curiously as you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, a little unsure.

"Are you sure?"

He says nothing, just gives you a slight nod and you, hesitantly, finally take a step towards him and then another, beginning to close the distance to join him at the end of the pier.

An anticipation and excitement begins to grow within you, with the sea breeze and the sound of the waves enveloping you.

You feel a slight tension begin to grow between the two of you. It's not uncomfortable but it's not easy to ignore either. And both Aemond and you know that you are both walking on uncertain ground.

But neither of you can help it.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond one eye #modern aemond #modern hotd #modern au

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halfrican-heat · 2 years ago

Text

ALL MINE (Ony)

"You come here, I'll knock your pussy out the damn frame. Remember the last time I made you miss your damn plane? Remember the last time I wet you down with champagne?"

A/N: Hey! I'm down bad for this man rn, lol. I've got lots of ideas for him though, so yay! Happy reading :) Inspired by @lingeriae and this post! Requests are open, too! Get at your girl.

Warning(s): Explicit Sexual Content; Penetrative Sex (p in v), Oral Sex (F receiving), Cursing, Public Sex (Outdoors), Cervix kissing, Wedding details, N Word Used, Black reader in mind, AAVE/Dialogue with Dialect, Dominant!Ony (when tf is he not in my mind), Depiction of marijuana usage, Depictions of alcohol consumption, Mild Dubious Consent; Beta'd by my besties <3

Pairing: Ony x Wedding Planner!Reader

Song Inspo: All Mine - Brent Faiyaz

His eyes drilled into the side of your head, trailing the curves of your body.

As maid of honor, your dress was a little different from the other bridesmaids. Make no mistake, your girls looked good with a t on the end. You made sure of that, but you all agreed upon something more…tailored for the lady making the most moves. So, your dress was designed to your tastes and fit you like a glove. It accentuated all your assets and Onyankopon was taking stock.

The two of you had only fucked once but there was this heightened tension ever since.

During the entire wedding process, Ony had been a pain in your ass. Because he was the best man, the two of you had to collaborate on many of the joint events-- like the Engagement Party and Bridal Party mixers. He was a terrible flirt and spent most of his time trying to get in your pants. Then, if it wasn’t you, he was flirting with any lady he could. And they would swoon just as soon as Ony flashed that handsome, megawatt smile of his.

But for some reason, Ony liked the challenge you posed. The way you were resistant to his charms. Unfortunately for you, Ony was interested in you. He liked you.

You dealt with his bullshit for a good while, putting in a valiant effort because you were doing your best friend and fellow soror, Kendra, a favor. Y’all went back to diapers and stuck together through everything. You were a celebrity event coordinator, specializing in weddings, so you were doing double duty by being her maid of honor and planning the entire wedding. But shit hit the fan between you and Ony the night of the final Bridal Party mixer. The two of you got into a huge blowout fight that ended with your cute little cocktail dress torn and strewn about the floor of Ony’s hotel room, his tongue licking champagne from places it shouldn’t have been.

“You doing so good, ma.” He had whispered, fucking you into his sheets.

You ended up missing your damn plane the next morning. Needless to say, he moved up on your list of people you wouldn’t mind spending time with. But he quickly moved back down the list after he ghosted you the next day. During the rehearsal dinner, you found him talking up some girl in the hotel lounge. He made eye contact with you as he flirted with her, looking away to give her his full attention.

So, you kept it cordial and cute after that. You acted like it didn’t bother you. Did he have amazing, life-changing dick that made you want to murder him and the bitch from the hotel lounge? Yes, yes he did. But were you a classy, sophisticated bitch who successfully planned a destination wedding while being the maid of honor and dealing with Ony’s shiesty ass? Yes, yes the fuck you were.

And no nigga was gonna make you second guess that shit.

The “Lounge Incident”, as your friends lovingly dubbed it, had happened a week ago. Fast forward to the present and there you were, watching your best friend dance and act a fool with the love of her life. You were happy for her, of course, but it did make you feel a little wistful.

The wedding ceremony wrapped up two hours prior and you found yourself nursing a glass of champagne at the reception. You were pretending to be unfazed by the looks Ony was sending you from across the room. You stole a glance at him when you felt like he wasn’t watching you and…dear Lord.

His white dress shirt was tucked into his green slacks, suit jacket long forgotten, with a few of the top buttons opened. His gold chain shined at you, almost winking, as it matched the gold Rollie on his wrist. He flashed a smile to one of his homeboys and you felt your knees wobble a little. You looked away quickly and crossed the room to find your girls. They were standing around one of the reception tables talking.

“Aht, don’t bring that energy over here, ma’am!” Your friend, Chelsea, said. “That man look like he ‘bout to jump your ass.”

“Please tell me y’all not about to fuck at this wedding,” Liyah groaned.

Your girls laughed loudly and you hid a smile behind your champagne glass as you took a sip. You risked a glance back at Ony, finding his gaze already on you. He didn’t care to hide the fact he was staring at you, not even giving the young lady in front of him a glance as she spoke to him. You whipped around, clearing your throat.

“Bye, girl. It ain’t even like that.”

The table went quiet, all the girls looking over your shoulder. A shit-eating grin spread across Chelsea’s face as she raised her hand, waving playfully.

“Hey, Ony.”

Your eyes widened as his chest pressed against your back, his warmth surrounding you. You tried to pretend to be unbothered as your friends gawked with wide eyes and smirks.

“Hey, ladies.”

The smile was evident in his voice, sending chills down your spine. But you took a sip of your champagne with a neutral face, not acknowledging him. In truth, you didn’t need to. He leaned down so that his mouth was close to your ear, hands braced on the table as he trapped you against his chest. His chain brushed your neck, not helping the goosebumps erupting all over your skin. His words, low so only you could hear them, didn’t help either.

“Say bye to your lil friends so I can eat your pussy.”

He paused as you turned your head slightly, your faces close to touching.

“And stop playing with me.”

His eyebrow arched at you as he pulled back, taking a sip from his whiskey glass. He addressed your friends again, setting the glass down.

“Ladies,” He said with a charming smile.

With that, he left you standing there as you slowly looked back to your friends who gaped back at you.

“Bye.” You said finally, scurrying from the reception hall as fast as your legs would carry you.

You found Ony outside the building, perched against the wall. A blunt hung from his lips as he gazed at you sidelong. You approached slowly, hips swaying with each step. His eyes never left yours as he sparked up and inhaled, exhaling the smoke slowly. You felt dizzy with need but you weren’t down that bad. Not yet.

You took the blunt as he passed it to you. You let the smoke soothe you before you exhaled. You took a few more pulls before passing it back to him.

“Take your panties off,” He said finally, after a long draw.

You tutted, crossing your arms.

“You just gon’ act like you ain’t ghost me, Ony?”

“I was wrong for that. But I'm here now, ain't it?” He said casually.

You rolled your eyes, turning to go back inside. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, his lips pressing firmly against yours. His mouth teased yours, opening it as smoke billowed between the two of you. His arm slid down to your waist as you exhaled the smoke he gave you.

He took another pull, exhaling, before he looked back down at you.

“I told you stop playing with me.”

“Maybe I'm done with you," You bluffed. "Maybe I got me another nigga to fuck on now.”

Ony scoffed, tucking the rest of his blunt away for later.

“Aight, that’s enough of that shit,” He mumbled, grabbing your hand as he pulled you to the side of the building.

It was a more hidden spot, behind large bushes that wrapped around the front of the building and off to the side. From there, you could see guests entering and exiting but they couldn’t see you unless they were looking hard enough. Your eyes widened as he kneeled in front of you and shoved your dress up your legs. You swatted at his hands, panicking as your eyes darted around. Ony stilled, his gaze hard as he grabbed your hands and looked up at you.

“Don’t piss me off.”

Now, you were down bad.

You took a shaky breath as he released your hands, going back to bunching up your dress.

“Hold that,” He said, tossing your leg over his shoulder.

You did as he asked, taking the garment in your hands. Your body flushed with heat as he shamelessly nuzzled his nose against your soaked core, smelling your needy scent. He kissed your clothed core and pushed your panties aside, holding them in one hand as he slipped a finger into your dripping cunt. He moved the digit in and out, brushing against that soft spot inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” You whined, your head falling against the wall.

“Yeah, say that shit you was sayin’ now,” Ony taunted, sliding another digit inside. “This pussy all mine.”

You panted, bracing yourself with a hand on his shoulder, as you forced out your next question.

“What about that bitch from the lounge, Ony?”

“I was gonna try what she was offering, but she wasn’t you,” He said easily, his eyes glued to his fingers moving in and out of you. “Damn, ma. You sucking that shit in.”

“Ony,” You whimpered. “I don’t want to play no games with you--”

“I’m not. That shit not an offer to me when you’re around,” He said firmly. “Now, you gon’ keep complainin’ or you gonna let daddy eat his pussy?”

“Ony--”

Any rebuttal you had became a wanton moan as he didn’t wait for a response, his mouth descending on your clit as his fingers continued to move inside you. You covered your mouth with your hand, trying in vain to stifle the sounds of pleasure he was snatching from you. He pulled his fingers from you gently, spreading your sopping pussy wider as he fucked his tongue in and out of you.

He ate you out messily, drinking up your juices like sweet nectar. The slurping noises were lewd as he sucked on your clit, teasing it with his tongue before dipping it back into your weeping hole. His performance was drawing pathetic whines from your throat as you tried to keep the two of you from getting caught. Heat pooled in your belly as his mouth on your core drove you toward a heated finish.

Then, he stopped completely. You let out a confused moan as the pleasure waned, your orgasm evading you. The confusion didn’t last long, however, as you heard his belt coming undone. He pulled himself from his pants as he tore your panties. He hiked your leg around his waist and slid home without warning.

“Hold on to me,” He grunted, his other hand supporting your back.

You wrapped your arms around him, your head resting on his shoulder as he thrust into you. His pace was rough and deep, fucking you like he owned you. Maybe he did. Maybe you wanted him to. You muffled a scream into his shoulder as his length kissed your cervix, unrelenting as the drag of his cock against your tight walls sent you into oblivion.

“Fuck, baby,” He groaned. “You so tight f’me. Takin’ me so good.”

You choked back a sob as his tip brushed that soft spongy spot, bringing back the pool of pleasure from before. Ony noticed your reaction, angling his hips to hit it over and over again. Your whimpers and moans were his own private mixtape as you keened and cried in his ear. He stretched you so good, the feeling of being this full something new and foreign to you. Ony was a bad habit, and he was making sure you wouldn’t be able to kick him any time soon.

That pool of pleasure warmed further with each snap of his hips into yours. Your quiet, open-mouthed cries built in intensity as the temperature inside you began to rise, swirling like a tsunami. You felt yourself teetering on that delicate edge and so could Ony. He picked up the pace.

“You gonna cum on your dick?” He taunted, egging you on. “You gon’ show me who this dick belong to?”

Your climax crashed over you as you slapped a hand to your mouth, muffling the sob that broke free. He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it as your body seized around him. He could barely pull out, opting for shallow thrusts as you came down from your high.

You sagged against the wall, trying to catch your breath as Ony pulled out. He fixed your dress and smoothed it down around the hips. He tucked himself back into his pants and dug his wallet from his pocket, fishing out his room key.

He flashed it in front of your dazed face before placing it in your hand. He pulled you off the wall, making sure you looked good before nudging you in the direction of the front doors.

“Go to my room. Third floor, 303. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You looked down at the key card in your hand then back to him. He sparked up his blunt again, blowing out smoke as he smacked your ass.

“Go ‘head, ma. I’m coming.”

You jumped slightly from the impact and found your feet moving you out of the bushes. You stumbled back into the hotel lobby, walking on wobbly legs to the elevators with his room key clutched in your hand. Your girl, Chelsea, was coming from the restrooms as the two of you made eye-contact. She smirked, her eyes trailing over you. She subtly adjusted the top of her dress, nodding at you.

You took the hint, fixing yours.

She went back into the reception hall without a word as you fumbled to press the elevator button.

Your night was not over yet.

#onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x reader #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon #aot onyankopon #black writer #black reader #my writing #Lyv's Library #Ony's Observatory #Fanfiction for black women #Black women #smut #Onyankopon x black!reader #Potential Series ;)#Wedding Planner!Reader

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madamechrissy · 2 months ago

Text

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner! Sukuna x mom/stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotage you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) rec drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club a front lol) Mafia ties. This part- A LOT OF FLUFF- cutsie asf, emotional, the END (happy end too) explicit sex, breed kink, teasing and Kuna being OBSESSED w/reader- WC- 6.8k

Ties into my Mob Gojo story- you'll see him and the reader from there - but you can read it alone. Art in the banner is by Sketch B on X divider by @/cafekitsune

<<<Part Seven - Playlist - Masterlist

Part Eight - final part

“So, Satoru is running everything while we’re gone!? How’d he handle that one?” You ask, as you and Sukuna lay basking in the beautiful sunrays of this beach, warming your skin as you lounge in these chairs, watching Miwa and Touma running around in the crystal clear waters. Sukuna chuckles, turning a bit to his side, sipping on the Mai Tai and sighing.

His body is glistening, god, you’d rubbed that sunblock all over his huge, tattooed body - you have to take good care of those, he let you know - and now it’s mixing with a little bit of his sweat in a sheen so delicious you want to lick your damn boyfriend. He smirks arrogantly at you as you stare, ruby eyes glinting in the sun over the dark sunglasses he wore.

“Something wrong brat?” He’s met with you clearing your throat, trying not to watch a drip of sweat roll down one of his chiseled abdominals.

“Nothing. Um… so how did it go?” You sip on your own drink, a fruity concoction that hits your tongue and bursts with flavor, earning your sigh, as the waves lap gently on the pristine white sand.

The breeze blows your hair around you softly, as Sukuna stares at just how gorgeous you are in your bathing suit, it’s so pretty like something some fifties pinup girl would wear, though he’d love to see you in less, he knows you like to be a little covered up with Touma here. Even so the red pops right against your pretty skin, glistening from the sunblock he’d thoroughly massaged on your skin.

He’s torn between wanting to drag you in the beach house he’d rented for you all and tear into you, or just press pretty kisses across your heated skin. His hand brushes on your thigh now, feeling it tense as he does, your breaths making those pretty breasts rise and fall in that top. He’s also torn between asking you then and there, or waiting until you’re alone tonight.

The ring is front and center in his head.

“Something wrong, Kuna?” It’s your turn to tease him, earning his scoff, as he sips his drink again, lounging in the sweet paradise, looking at the girl he hopes will soon be his wife.

“Nothing, brat. Hmm, you asked about Satoru?” You nod a little.

“He hates running things, how’d he take the news of having to for a week or two?”

Sukuna pauses, remembering. “He was definitely pouty about it.”

You giggle now. “How so?”

‘What!? No, no, no. Ask Suguru or something!’ Satoru crosses his arms and pouts as Sukuna informs him, earning the tall, pink haired man’s eye roll.

‘Satoru it’s literally called the fucking Gojo family.’

‘And you’re rich for taking care of shit for me! No, I have plans of my own, I can’t deal with all this boring shit.’

‘Just stomp your foot why don’t you, god you’re all brats.’ Satoru scoffs, as Sukuna pours them both a glass of whiskey, earning Satoru’s frown.

‘I’m not drinking that shit!’

‘Just have a drink with me, I need some… advice.’ Satoru slumps in the seat across from Sukuna’s desk now, sipping the amber liquid and sputtering, only making Sukuna chuckle.

‘Advice from me? For what?’ Sukuna sighs then, pulling out the black velvet box, and Satoru’s blue eyes widen. ‘Oh, Sukuna I can’t marry you I’m sorry, you’re just not really my type-’

‘Be fucking serious, god you’re an idiot.’ Satoru laughs maniacally, and Sukuna goes to put it up when he waves his hands.

‘No, no, sorry. I am well versed in diamonds, let me see.’ Sukuna downs his whiskey as Satoru studies it carefully, yanking a jewelers eye off his key ring and inspecting it deeper. Satoru had always been responsible for their counterfeit jewelry ring, so he knows that man is experienced in jewels.

He whistles then, studying the prismatic diamond embedded in gold. ‘Is it a good one?’

‘Impeccable clarity, as close to perfect as you get. And the cut?’ He whistles again, handing it back to Sukuna now. ‘You’re going for it, huh?’

‘I am. That’s why I need you for a week, okay?’ Satoru sighs now, nodding, earning Sukuna’s exhale of relief.

‘Marriage will protect her more, as would adopting the kid.’

‘I know that but…’

‘You love her.’ Sukuna glares again, but sighs, nodding. ‘She’ll say yes, Sukuna, don’t worry.’

‘Never thought I’d say this, but I appreciate you.’ Gojo hugs Sukuna then, and Sukuna shoves him off, scowling. ‘Don’t push your fucking luck, Satoru.’

“He took it fine.” Is all Sukuna says, you stare curiously, watching a blush dance across his tanned cheeks, and he glares at you. “What!?”

“Nothing you just weren’t very descriptive for that long stare into space.” He leans close, tilting your chin up, and his hot, calloused palm makes you tremble.

“Just wait till we’re alone later.” His words get you, god they always do, if paradise wasn’t already so perfect, to know tonight you and Sukuna get to go to dinner together - alone - is even more thrilling.

You love time with Touma, Miwa and Sukuna together, but of course you also really loved spending some alone time with your boyfriend. How could you not, when he looks at you this way, when he treats you this way, like you’re his everything, and he’s become your everything along with Touma, truly. Love in a different way, of course, but you love them both so much it hurts.

“Nervous about our date, brat?” He teases, feeling the heat of your cheeks as he leans over, fingers brushing against one.

“Excited.” He smirks a bit, pressing a kiss when Touma runs up, dripping water off his swimsuit, and Miwa runs up behind him.

“They’re kissing!” Touma’s words make you both break apart, laughing, as Miwa takes your hands, yanking you up.

“Get in the water babe!” You run after her, eyeing a scowling Sukuna and a bouncing Touma before turning to the shore and running in the water, warm and pleasant against your feet, splashing on your ankles. “It feels so perfect, doesn’t it?” she collapses back in the water, splashing you, making you giggle.

“It’s so perfect, ah! I’ll never wanna go back.” You lay with her, covering your face as the sun beams down, the water lapping against the both of you, little seagulls squawking, fish swim around you both as your fingers slip along the wet sand, letting the grains fall between your fingers.

“I think I have the best job ever?” You giggle looking at her now, the sun lighting up her pretty blue locks.

“You deserve it, you helped me when no one would.” She blinks back tears, holding your hand, while the two of you lay there, and you feel your throat closing with emotions. “It’s true!”

“Oh I just love that you’re safe and happy. The money is amazing but mostly I enjoy seeing how bright you’re becoming.” You hug her tightly, over her in the water as she giggles, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Should I get jealous?” Comes Sukuna’s voice, gruff as he shades you from the sun, large shadow over the two of you while he crosses his arms, Touma is clinging to his back, arms around his neck as you all giggle.

“I was telling her I have the best job and she tackled me!” Miwa is giggling when you kiss her cheek again.

“She is clingy.”

“Hey!”

The day goes by in a beautiful haze, the four of you are back in the pretty beach house cooking together, as the sun sets and the breeze filters through the floor to ceiling windows, filtering the scent of salty sea through the home. Sukuna’s nibbling on everything as you’re cooking, despite you smacking at his hand and glaring, stealing bites for Touma like the troublesome duo they are.

“Yummy, mmm!” Touma’s licking sauce off his fingers, Miwa starts cleaning him up, while Sukuna’s hand comes to the small of your back.

“You’re yummy.”

“Shh!” You elbow him now at his whisper, just making him chuckle against your ear. “Go get Touma’s hands washed for dinner, and wash yours!”

“Your mom is too strict, kid.” He earns another glare as he hoists Touma up in the air, Touma’s little arms and legs out as he makes airplane noises, melting you immediately. You sigh, tasting the sauce now, as Miwa starts grabbing plates.

“I love that man.” You say dreamily, she smiles at you then.

“Well of course you do, written all over your face,” the sound of running water from Touma and Sukuna softly splashes while you and Miwa start plating the meal, and she murmurs softly, “You excited for tonight?”

“I am, what surprise could he have, we’re already in Fiji.” You take a sip of water now, letting the cool liquid filter down your throat, sighing, and seeing Miwa’s grin. “You know something!”

“Sure do.” You giggle now, rolling your eyes.

“You won’t tell me I’m sure.”

“I got paid not to.”

“No wonder you love this job so much.” You’re both murmuring and giggling when Sukuna and Touma come out now, Sukuna’s thrown on some loose kimono that looks far too good on him, a matching black silk one for Touma. “You two look so handsome, oh goodness!”

You snatch up Touma in your arms and give him smooches, making him peal out a cute little laugh, holding on tightly to you. Sukuna winks over at Miwa, who knowingly smiles back, since he’d let her in on his plan - honestly everyone knew about it except for you, blissfully unaware of the ring ready to be placed on your finger.

It was surely insane and maybe too soon if Sukuna was rational, but that is the last thing Ryomen Sukuna was, he was not rational a day in his life, and certainly not when it came to you. He loves you so deeply, obsessively in fact. He knows it's an obsession, from the moment he saw you, and everything for him shifted, he thought his life was amazing until he realized the gaping hole in it.

You.

Before he even spoke to you, met your son who he loves, before you kissed him, before any of it, he just saw you and folded. At first irritated that you made him so pathetic, now he was absolutely secure in his fate, that he was a simpy little bitch for you. There was truly no helping it - to him you’re the Queen of the city, just side by side with him.

And he’d give you anything, more than anything - all of him. He’s a little quiet during the dinner, as nerves eat at him just a bit, he is secure in your love but he knows your last marriage was terrible, and he doesn’t know if you’re going to stress about it again, or worry about committing again. He was fine with waiting, but he needed everyone to know you were his.

His and only his forever, he cannot accept a world where you’re not, where everyone doesn’t know that you are, and he can never lose you. Forever was an insane question to ask you, it’s only been a couple months of knowing you, and now you’ve sunk so deep into his soul, the perfection of just sitting next to you, watching Touma bouncing around as Miwa tries to get him to eat, it’s all too perfect.

It feels right.

The weight in his pocket is heavy, his hand on your thigh, comforting even as he feels it should tremble, luckily he has just about the steadiest hands there are, smirking at you and feigning ease, like he wasn’t panicking. If you said no he’d just keep asking you every single year forever.

Pathetic, he’s so pathetic for you.

“Time for bed, Touma, kiss them good night.” Miwa says later on, and Touma jumps in your arms, already giggling as you kiss his cheeks, too warm from so much sun today.

“Tomorrow we will make sandcastles!” You say softly, as he yawns, reaching his little hand for Sukuna now.

“I’ll make the best one.” Sukuna challenges, and Touma glares, snuggling up to your chest.

“I will! I’ll make mommy a castle!”

“I’ll make a bigger one.” Touma sticks his tongue out as does Sukuna, before ruffling Touma’s hair, making you roll your eyes.

“You two are entirely too much. Off to bed baby.” You kiss him again, and Miwa winks at you two before she takes him back to the room, you start to clean up the food now, putting it away and putting the plates in the sink with gentle clicks, as Sukuna comes up behind you, brushing your hair back and making you shiver.

“You put those dishes down, and come with me now, brat.” You turn and eye Sukuna, heart fluttering with excitement.

“You’re so demanding, papakuna.”

“You love to annoy me.” His ruby eyes glint, a smirk so playful, before he turns you to him, pressing your back against the counter. “Why do you annoy me so much?”

“You love it. You love me.” He exhales, cupping your face, so serious now, while the breeze billows the soft white curtains, stirring your red kimono around, as his flutters, revealing more of his strong chest, which your hand trails up. “You’re so serious, what is it?”

“Come with me.” Is all he says again, grabbing you by the hand now and dragging you out of the house.

“Your legs are too long, hold on!” You’re struggling to keep up with him, giggling as the two of you walk along the well lit trail from the beach home, he locks the home up and takes the key, slipping it in his pocket. “So secretive!”

“Hush now brat.” He pulls you against him, the two of you eye the beautiful sight of the moonlight reflecting over rippling waters, gentle laps along the shore, the stars illuminating the sky like you never see back in the city.

“It’s beautiful here.” You whisper, and he looks at you then, sighing.

“Yes, it is.” You turn back to find his eyes on you in the dark, like you are the most beautiful star, he may not say things like that but you feel it from his touch, from his look, from every way he treats you. You look down shyly, holding his hand entwined in yours, huge and tattooed and ever so strong, always making you feel safe.

Safe and at home.

“I want to go to Fiji every year, will you promise me?” Your words make his heart race now, like it’s about to thump out of his chest, he takes a breath now, unable to form a word. “That sounds spoiled, oh my god!”

“No, it doesn’t. And I want you to be spoiled, anyway…” He trails off, tugging at you again. “Come on.”

Thinking you’ve said too much, you’re just a little quiet as he walks you further down the beach, your bare feet now making little trails along the sand, the breeze making you shiver just a bit, Sukuna wraps a big arm around you then. You rest your head, enjoying his warmth, as the two of you quietly walk, it feels so different than your usual.

Usually Sukuna is calling you a brat and teasing you, and you’re giggling and calling him Kuna, both poking at each other, but there are times of quiet, like at night when you’re reading, and he holds you, just laying there and watching you. You asked why he was so interested sometimes, but he never answers, just watching you and stroking your hair instead.

In quiet, contemplative moments, you feel such peace with him it’s difficult to describe. When you took a strip job, you expected drama, stress, perhaps feeling hard on yourself - you never expected to fall in love with one of the owners. Never thought a man so powerful would fall for you, that you would get the attention of a man like Sukuna, and what a man he truly was.

You aren’t afraid of the quick connection, not a bit, it should be scary, but you’re open to learning more about him - his past, bit by bit. Who he was, just scratching the surface of some of the things you all have just started sharing. His past, how he became who he was, as he learns more about you, the family dynamics of each of you clearly weren’t the best growing up.

But that just makes the two of you more ready to create a beautiful life for Touma, in months Sukuna has gone above and beyond what Naoya ever did, in this time he made you feel beautiful again, safe, loved. The connection was so intense it was as if Sukuna was his own sun, and you’re a planet just being pulled constantly, his brightness endlessly addictive.

You never, ever want to let go, never want to leave his field of gravity, you never want to know what it is like him and Touma are just your world, and you can’t help but be excited for the future. He speaks of filling you up, having babies while you’re lovemaking, but you know he’s kinky - god he is a force in the bed that you’re not sure you’ll ever adjust to - but was it more?

Imagining having a baby gets you heated, the thoughts so insane - though you were still very much on the pill, it’s not something you all haven’t spoken of yet, far too early for it you’re sure. But the timeline on your love was insane, it was not something you could explain, the amount of insane love you all have for each other, the ease in being with him, the passion and devotion.

“You’re quiet, too.” He says, pulling you out of your thoughts, and he looks down at you then, you’re so lost in his eyes you don’t notice the pretty gazebo set up for the two of you, when he cups your face and leans down. “Thoughts, what is going on in that pretty head?”

“They’re about… babies…” Sukuna exhales then, leaning down and kissing you, tugging you close in his embrace as you tremble, body aching for him.

“Mmm, fuck you’re gonna distract me.”

“From what, silly?” You tease, nipping at his lower lip.

Would he have to propose with cum pouring out of your pretty hole? You needed to stop messing with him before that was your engagement memory. He takes a breath and stands so tall, tilting his hair, the pink softly shining under the moonlight with glittery strands that you ache to run your fingers through.

“Stop staring at me and look.” He has to turn you now, you gasp as you see it - the beautiful set up he’s made for you.

The gazebo is all lit up with strings of fairy lights waving gently in the breeze, hidden in a little cove all tucked away, ivy climbing up the sides of it making it like some fucking movie you’d dream up. He helps you step up to it now as you take it all in, a table with two chairs and wine chilling on top of it, two glasses ready for the both of you.

“Sukuna, how did I not see this earlier!?” You whisper, touching the table gently, eyeing him then, choking up with emotions.

“Crying already?” He teases gruffly, touching your cheek gently now, you exhale nervously, eyes filling up when he picks up the pretty black bottle and the glittering gold corkscrew, opening it with a pop as you look around, seeing the view of the beach from higher up, the pretty reflections glimmering.

“Oh god it’s so perfect here, you didn’t have to do this!” You take the glass of wine from his proffered hand, fingers brushing against each other, Sukuna is still quiet but he smirks just a bit, taking his glass and turning you.

“Do you like it here, brat?” His voice is soft as he holds you with one arm, his chin resting on your head, facing you toward the pretty serene picture in front of you.

“Like is not the word, I’m in love with it. Paradise with you.” You expect him to chuckle or tease, but he’s quiet, sighing now, sipping his drink as you pick up yours, big hard body so strong behind you.

You're overwhelmed by the beauty and thoughtfulness of it all, your heart racing when he eases back, pressing a kiss on your neck, watching the goosebumps rise on your soft skin. “Pretty sure paradise is that pretty pussy.”

“Kuna! The moment!” Sukuna laughs just a bit, but your body already responded, and he takes notice of it, humming softly and slipping a hand down your waist and hip, exhaling and tickling your ear.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and leads you back into the gazebo. You take a seat, looking at how the soft lights glimmer across the crystal glass filled with the sweet red wine.

“How did you set this up?” You ask softly, leaning forward, your hand on one of his strong thighs over his black pants, he smirks a bit, thighs wide.

“I had Miwa help me. She’s loving her pay increase.”

“She sure is!” You laugh a bit and kiss him once more, thumb brushing across his lower lip. “This is perfect.”

“It’s… I… you…”

Shit.

Shit!?

Not Sukuna getting nervous, no, no, no that can’t happen. You’re blinking a bit, looking so beautiful you make him want to speak the stupidest, corniest words, you’re a woman they would pen poems for - but Sukuna was not doing that. He couldn’t describe you in any words, he was a man of actions, of kissing you until you can’t speak, of pleasuring your pretty body until you’re a mess under him.

Sukuna doesn’t know how to say it, how to go about it, even though he has planned this for a week, he can’t function suddenly, not watching the wind sweep your hair, the silk dancing on your skin. Torn between eating you up right on this table and panicking, he can’t figure out how he does this!?

He hates romantic movies, so he can’t remember one for shit, and you do deserve all of this, Fiji, the gazebo, the expensive wine, and the fucking ring. It’s your first ‘date’ and he’s proposing, is it too insane? He’s trying to talk himself up, play it in his head, but nothing works then and there, except kneeling between your thighs, making you heat up.

He knows how to do one thing, and that’s fuck you, eat you, make you feel so fucking good, easier than words. Sukuna bends down, pressing kisses along your bere thighs where your kimono parts, you gasp at the sensations, setting down your wine as he kisses higher and higher. He feels your heat against his lips, groaning, lips pressing higher as your hips shift.

“Is this why you brought me out here? To taste me?” Your words almost take him out, he groans a bit, pressing a hungry kiss right where your cunt is over your shorts, and you’re gripping his broad shoulders with a cry.

“No, not just that.” He pulls back then, sighing, eyeing you so seriously you pause then, blinking.

“Kuna, is everything okay? You seem-”

“You’re going to marry me, brat.” He’s scowling now, you think you must have misheard him, mouth dropping when he reaches in his pocket, your eyes widen so big it’s almost comical to him, as he clears his throat.

“Huh? You… oh! Oh!? Oh?” You’re covering your mouth when Sukuna’s pulling out that box, it feels unreal, you never thought you’d feel this, hear this, when he pulls it open you get a glimpse of a diamond prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, like the moonlight itself, leaving you speechless.

“It’s not up for discussion.” He says angrily, and you realize he’s up on one knee now, your entire body is shaking as you try to collect your thoughts. “You are going to be my wife, got it?”

You laugh and cry suddenly, a mix of emotions that are unstable, leaving Sukuna to stare at you, red eyes narrowing. “You aren’t asking?” You manage then, holding your chest as it heaves from your insane sobs/laughs, unsure of how to describe the huge, buff man telling you that you’re his wife.

It’s so Sukuna.

“I already know the answer, so.” He’s scared shitless, watching as you break down in front of him, trying to keep his act up, glaring even deeper at you now as he takes out the ring. “Hand, now.”

“Oh my god is this actually…” He snatches up your shaking hand, slipping the ring on now, acting like he’s not shaking just as badly as you, clearing his throat.

“I’ll hear no arguing brat, you’re marrying me. The kid can take my name too, I’ll adopt him and-” You knock Sukuna over, pouncing on him now, and careening the two of you to the wooden floor, covered in a soft plush rug the same color as the pretty sand all around you, lips all over his.

Sukuna moans then, exhaling in relief, feeling your salty tears falling against his own cheeks, his big hands coming to your waist, when you finally pull up for air, lip trembling so hard you have to bite it, eyes glimmering with tears. He sighs now, slipping his hands back as he looks up at the girl he loves, feeling every movement as she lays on top of him.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Sukuna. In what world wouldn’t I choose you?” Sukuna exhales, shutting his eyes and feeling his own stupid tears threaten, when you rest your forehead on his, and your breaths mingle in the night.

“Good, knew it.” He manages, with a shaky breath, and you’re giggling again, while tears keep falling. “Are you crying or laughing, hmm?”

“Both.”

“Am I funny to you?”

“No, Sukuna…” You lean up, straddling him then, as he moans, hands slipping up your waist. “You’re perfect.”

Sukuna sits up now, dragging your heat against him as he kisses you, tongue sweeping inside your mouth, devouring you so desperately, you cling to him, rolling your hips and whining out.

“Fuck, I need you baby,” his husky declaration is met with him holding you up, yanking your shorts to the side and almost ripping the material, while his mouth drags across your breasts. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.” You end him always, he is almost cumming in his pants as you yank them down with an eager tug. Sukuna grips your ass while you stroke his huge, thick length, the veins bulging, that precum oozing all along his piercing, he whimpers when you roll your finger on it. “My fiance.”

“Your fucking fiance.” He laughs softly with you then, dragging your cunt along his length and letting you grind on it, while he’s tugging at that silk kimono, mouth only leaving yours to kiss your throat, bite your collarbone, drag his tongue across your neck hungrily, cunt soaking him more and more. “Take it baby.”

You can’t when he does this, when he gives you the reins, cunt so wet you can hardly stand it, so slick when you pull back and grab his cock, he eases right in, though the stretch burns, it’s so fucking good. You scream out, head falling back when Sukuna finds your clit between your bodies, watching you bounce up and down his length, groaning as he sees the bulge in your tummy, holding your shorts aside.

“That’s it, take it all, sexy little fucking slut. My pretty slut, aren’t you?” You shake your head, slamming down hard then and bottoming out as much of his cock as you can, making him inhale sharply.

“Fiance.” You whisper, only making him moan again, lifting you and dragging you back down his cock, eating up every scream echoing in the little hidden paradise, while your slick, gummy walls grip him, and he’s pressing that spot over and over, watching you fall apart for him.

“Keep going, slutty little fiance. Ride me like you know you can, huh? So fucking good, feel that pretty pussy.” He’s rolling his thumb again, pushing you over the edge and pinning you down with an arm around you, rocking you on him. “That’s it, cum all over me, fuck… look at you…”

“Kuna!” You scream out his name, eyes rolling back, a line of drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth, clit spasming as your cunt pulses, gripping him so good he can’t stop his own soft cries, just urging you on. “In me, cum in me please…”

“Gonna put another baby right in you, you want it?” You nod eagerly, sniffling as he rides out your orgasm, finally releasing his rough thumb from your clit, as you collapse on him, clinging as he clings to you, flipping you over finally, pressing you down against the rug. “How many should I give you?”

“So m-many babies, ngh!” Sukuna shoves your thighs up, pressing heavy weight on you, shoving his cock so deep as he pauses then, seeing your hair flowing underneath you, eyes so dilated they’re black, your lips swollen from his kisses, neck decorated with glistening teeth marks.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” His soft words in the midst of getting your cunt railed further prove just how much of his duality fills you then, as he exhales and kisses your forehead softly, inhaling and exhaling.

“I love you, Kuna. I c-can’t - ah! Wait to… marry y-you,” your words are broken up with cries and kisses, your hands slipping up under the hot skin of his muscled back, feeling him as he moves, one hand on the back of your thigh as the other braces himself over you, and you’re so full you can hardly stand it, feeling his cock throb. “Please, please…”

“Fuck, I’ll give you anything, brat, any fucking thing.” Sukuna slams in one more time, filling your needy cunt, and god she sucks him up, those walls gripping his cock like a vise and milking him, when you both stare at each others’ eyes in the nights, unfocused and blurry, while he fills your hole so much it pours out.

“Oh god, Kuna!” You’re crying again, while he picks you up, holding you against his chest, still intimately connected, kissing every inch of your body he can reach, as he strokes his hands up and down your body. “We’re getting married!?”

“Fuck yes, no choice in it.” You roll your eyes, giggling.

“The most aggressive proposal ever- ah!” Sukuna slams back up into your cunt, making your eyes lock up to his, while he smirks, raising a brow.

“Running that mouth like that, think I’m fucking done yet?”

******

Two months later

You and Sukuna run this city, walking side by side, heels clicking along the floors of the club, one of Sukuna’s arms around you as you take in the club, currently renovated. Sukuna allowed you all creative vision, and an endless budget, and you have transformed it into a cabaret style club, of course it offered all the scantily clad dancers and opportunities as before, but a little different.

The feel of it was straight out of the nineteen twenties, a speakeasy run - funny enough - by mobsters themselves. To celebrate such an occasion, Sukuna has donned an old style pinstripe suit and a bowler hat, and you’re in a pretty little flapper dress, tassels silver and glimmering, glowing like the day he met you, saw you, as a million soft red lights dance across your skin.

The strippers are wearing draped pearl necklaces between their breasts, men are given the finest cigars, you see then all of your friends. They are your friends, truly, Satoru, Suguru, Choso and Toji, along with women all over, including your friend who is draped over Satoru currently, giggling in his ear.

Their eyes go to you both as you waltz in, they’re gathered around the large round table with stacks of cards and poker chips, all dressed up to the nines, you couldn’t describe it better than you’d stepped back a century. To see it all come together, you’re emotional, and Sukuna senses it, hand big and comforting on your back.

“How do you like all the work the brat did, hmm?” He gets a nudge and a glare, saying your name instead with a chuckle, before sitting down at the table and yanking you down on his thigh, right where you belong.

“It’s insanely hot.” Satoru says then, grinning over at you, he looks quite dashing as one would say back then… well, you think.

“It’s amazing, really, gonna have even more business.” Toji says, patting your shoulder as you flush under the praise.

“I was thinking it’s something unique, a cut above the rest. We’re not just any ordinary club you know.” Sukuna yanks you even closer against him now, wrapping his big arm around your waist, hand gripping the side of your thigh as you cross your legs and look back at him. “We’re special.”

“We are.” He gruffly agrees, kissing you softly, while the waitresses serve, and the bartenders spin bottles, the dancers undulating, the shot girls serving with a smile, all dressed up and moving to the old jazz of a time long past.

“It’s perfect.” You say, he sighs now, nodding, red eyes lit up.

“It needed your touch.” You giggle, breathless, cupping his face as he turns you back to face the table, leaning over it now. “Deal us in.”

“Shit, you’re playing?” Suguru asks, raising a dark brow. “You’re shit at poker Sukuna.”

“She’s great at it, also fuck you I am not shit, you are.” Everyone laughs, as Satoru pouts, staring at his cards now, as his girl leans over and he glares.

“No peeking!”

“Your cards are shit I bet.” Satoru flips Toji off for that, as he grins, girl on his lap, puffing on a cigar. “Now my cards are good.”

“If they were that good you wouldn’t reveal your hand.” Choso waves smoke out of his face, opting to light a blunt instead, as you take a sip of a drink one of the shot girls hand you, smiling and thanking her.

“He’s right, never reveal your cards.” You say softly, taking your own now, and not showing a damn reaction, because you have a fucking full house. You just blink and remain normal, and Sukuna eyes them, then you.

“Poker face, who knew?”

“Shh!” You smack at him, just making him chuckle. The phone dings, and you peek to see Touma is asleep, you show Sukuna the picture and he sighs, pressing a kiss on your cheek now. “He’s so cute isn’t he?”

“He told me, he wanted a little sister you know.” His words send sparks through your body, heat against his strong thigh then, the words making you disoriented.

“Oh, he did?” You try to act casual, but he hears the softness in your voice, the longing, while the men around the circle start playing their hands.

“You like that idea, don’t you? Should we work on making one?” His whisper is too much, you lay your cards out then as everyone looks at you in shock.

“Full house!” You exclaim, standing, Sukuna’s sitting there chuckling as you gather all the chips, and he gets the perfect view of your ass in this flapper dress, hugging your curves. His hands slip up and you damn near squeak.

“We just started!?” Satoru angrily pouts again, throwing down his cards. “No fair! Re deal them out.”

“Gonna have to count us out.” Sukuna says, standing and feeling your trembling body in front of him, as everyone rolls their eyes.

“Oh go on then.” That was just about everyone, while Sukuna drags you into his office, and slams you against the door, kissing you over and over as he slips up your dress, and you’re already soaking between your thighs, whining out.

“Got you that excited, hmm, brat?” He whispers, picking you up then, pressing you against the door as he locks it, your hands clinging to his jacket, nodding desperately, grinding your hips and making him moan. “Then throw out your birth control.”

“Shit, really?” He chuckles, kissing down your throat, your breasts, picturing them full, gripping one and making you cry out.

“Yes, really, gonna make you a mommy, fuck…” You’re getting carried over to his desk now, hovering over you, hat falling and making you giggle, sitting it on your head, making him moan. “Gotta be so sexy… god I can’t wait to fill you up.” He’s kneeling then, spreading your thighs, shock of pink hair entangled in your hands as he kisses up your inner thigh now.

“You’re gonna be a daddy Kuna - ah!” Your giggle is cut off with a bite right over your clit, ruby eyes glinting up at you, while your bare thighs are thrown over his strong shoulders.

“Say that again, I swear to god brat.” You’re covering your giggle, even though the music is still blaring in the club, cunt getting soaking wet under your panties, his hot tongue making the thin lace into nothing, as his dark nails sink into the plush of your thighs, and your head falls back.

“Gonna punish me daddy Kuna?”

“That’s it.” Sukuna has flipped you now, ass up, smacking you so hard it echoes, stinging and making you yelp.

“Get back down there!” You pout, gasping when you hear his belt unbuckle, feeling two fingers sink right inside your slick cunt, eliciting a filthy moan.

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson, brat.” He kisses up your neck, gripping your dress and shoving it higher, as your whines just make him ache more to fill you. “Fill you so much you won’t be able to walk.”

You’ve gotten him going, and you can’t stop your grin when he tilts your head to him, piercing on his tip slipping between your folds, and his glare falters at just how pretty his fiance is like this.

“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” He whispers, your giggle is cut off when he stretches you, filling you so perfectly, as his hand lifts your thigh, pulling back and sinking deeper, while a tattooed hand grips your throat.

“Maybe I do.” He kisses you then, shoving all the way inside you, the perfect, perfect fit for him. “Kuna…”

“I love you, brat.” He huffs, biting your bare shoulder and thrusting, so deep inside, you’re gasping at how much he’s stuffing you, filling you, not sure you can ever get used to it. “Can’t wait to fill this perfect pussy so full.”

“L-love you, w-want it Kuna, fill me - mnh!” Your words are cut off by cries and a brutal kiss, as the man you love ruins you again and again, owns you and claims you, and makes you his with every bite and mark.

But with each sharp thrust are softer ones, kisses, whispers of love, and that is just one of the many reasons you adore your Kuna, the conundrum he is, a mobster, a lover, a violent but gentle man, a step dad and perhaps one day he’d have babies with you.

“Gonna get you pregnant tonight.”

“Oh y-yeah?” He laughs softly, kissing you again.

“You’re so cute, fuck… yeah, brat.” He’s lifting you again, turning you to face him, kissing you as his hands take you over, and your thighs shake on either side of his hips, moaning as he pulls back to look down at your pretty face. “No way you’re not getting pregnant once I’m done with you.”

“Please, Kuna, mnh!” You fall into each other, and Sukuna makes sure to pump as many loads into you, while the cabaret goes on, and your outfits are wrinkled and strewn around his office, ignoring any knocks and laughing softly. Somewhere there are cheers, shouts and laughter as the new version of the club kicks off…

But the two of you are in your own little world.

I hope you enjoyed their end, I rly loved writing Modern Kuna in a fic for the first time (aside from oneshots!) I'd love to write him againnn. See you in the next one <3

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#sukuna ryomen #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x fem!reader #sukuna #sukuna fanfic #kuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna jjk #jujustu kaisen #sukuna fluff

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professorsnape394 · 8 months ago

Text

Day 4: "Me or Her?"

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating:😠🥰

Prompt: Torn

Summary: Severus must chose between his old life and his new life, or risk losing those closest to him.

A/N: Can't resist a good angsty moment. Writing this broke me a little bit in the best possible way. My heart was aching.

Warnings: alcohol.

Word Count: 2184

Credits to Gif Creator

Halloween had always been a difficult day for Severus. While the rest of the world gathered their friends to dress up in ridiculous costumes and gallivant around from door to door, Severus opted to stay at home, mourning the loss of his first love and childhood best friend.

He remembered that night like it was yesterday. It was the height of the First Wizarding War; The Dark Lord had learned of the prophecy and was setting out to murder any new parents with a son born at the end of July. Severus had begged Voldemort not to hurt her. Dumbledore had promised to keep her safe. At that point Lily Evans was the only person in his life who had ever saw the good in him. He needed her to be kept alive.

As it turned out neither wizard kept their promise to their most loyal subject, and Lily Potter was murdered on the 31st of October 1981 Severus was the one to find her; lying lifeless on the floor of her son’s nursery. Her son, who infuriatingly had survived the Unforgivable Curse that was meant to end his life, remained unharmed and wailing in his crib. Lily had not been so fortunate.

Snape fell to his knees beside her limp body, cradling her in his arms. Sobbing openly for the loss of his best friend.

Halloween marked this occasion every year serving as a cruel reminder of everything he had lost that day. So instead of celebrating like everyone else, he chose to drink.

The potions master kept an old photograph of himself and the young witch hidden away in the drawers of his desk. It depicted a moving image of the two of them side by side as young teens, posing and giggling hysterically at the camera. It was his tradition to set the picture on his desk once a year and drink himself numb on a bottle of Firewhiskey.

This year he had thought would be no different. The picture lay flat on his desktop, the uncorked bottle of alcohol stood beside it. Yet, he hesitated.

Without warning his office door swung open, revealing a stunning young witch dressed in a deep red velvet gown with flared sleeves stretching almost to the floor.

“Are you nearly ready honey, if we don’t leave now we’ll be late the party.” Her temporary vampire teeth peaked out through her blood red lips.

While his enchantingly beautiful wife was hard to resist looking at as she relaxed against the doorframe, a party on this night just felt wrong.

“I’m not coming.” He muttered, his hand automatically reaching for the bottle.

“But you promised…” She whispered, the grin dropping from her face.

“I’ve changed my mind, I think I’d prefer to be alone this evening.”

The hurt on his wife’s face could not be clearer; this wasn’t the first time he had let her down at the last minute.

“It’s time to move on Severus.” She removed her fake teeth, not wanting her next words to be slurred. “If you always insist on living in the past, those here in the present will get tired of waiting on you.”

While she had always been sympathetic to her husband’s emotions, she couldn’t help but feel rejected by him. That if Lily had somehow survived that night, she would be the one standing in her place instead.

Severus stared down at the old photograph, not daring to meet his wife’s watering eyes.

“Answer me this, Severus, because I’m only going to ask it once. If she were here. If it was me or her. Who would you choose?”

The question shouldn’t have come as a shock to the man, he had always suspected it had been on his wife’s mind. But hearing it out loud came as a blow to his chest. He knew the answer but it would hurt him deeply to say it aloud. So instead, he loosened the cap of his whiskey, poured himself a large glass and drank until only a few droplets remained.

A frustrated sigh filled the room.

“I’ll be back around 11. If your still conscious enough, feel free to join me in bed.” She snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Severus buried his head in his hands. Of course, he knew his ritual was unhealthy, and now that he was married it was well past time that he stopped it. But still, he worried that by giving up this day that he dedicated to his young love, he was somehow letting her down yet again. That it was his fault she died and by letting this routine go, she was somehow dying all over again. He worried that his memory of her might be forgotten if he didn’t spend at least one day a year wallowing in his grief for her.

He drained a second glass of whiskey.

Snape had fucked up big this time, and now his worry was he was at risk of losing his wife, the only woman who had ever truly loved him back.

Looking down the barrel of his third drink, Severus heard a faint knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called out.

In bounded a girl no higher than his thigh, clad in shades of pink and purple tulle, paired with a set of translucent net wings and topped with a silver plastic tiara.

“Hi Daddy.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello sweetheart.” Severus picked the girl up by her armpits, placing her gently on his lap. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Eh, I’m a fairy princess, duh?” She mumbled, brandishing her pretend wand at him.

“Of course, you are.” He nodded in understanding. “And the most beautiful one at that.”

His daughter blushed appreciatively, but almost immediately fell into a look of disappointment.

“Mummy said you’re not coming to the party again.”

“That’s true, darling. Daddy has to stay home this year.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I have things I need to do at home. But you and Mummy can still go to the party and have so much fun.”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “Mummy is always sad when you don’t come places. I don’t think she knows how to have fun without you Daddy.” The girl pouted.

Severus heart dropped in his chest. He knew his wife was disappointed in him staying at home, but he had always assumed she was out enjoying her time with her friends while he stewed in his self-pity.

“Doesn’t she dance with anyone at the party? I’ve never known your mother to miss out on an opportunity to frolic around a dancefloor.”

His daughter shook her head again, dark ringlet curls swishing through the air.

“She doesn’t even take part in the costume contests, which is rubbish because I bet she’d win every time. She just sits at a table all night watching everyone else have fun, it so boooooring.”

Severus’ mouth turned dry and he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe that the vibrant woman he had married would sit on the side-lines, dimming her light because of him. She was the life of the party, the one who went all in on everything she does, the one who makes everyone smile just by simply being in the same room them. She was everything he was not, which is why he loved her so much. He couldn’t bare the thought of her losing everything that makes her special because she always felt second best to a dead woman.

“Come with me.”

Severus took his daughter by her tiny warm hand and led her out of his office, but not before grabbing one last thing on his way out.

Yet another crack opened in his chest at the sight he stumbled upon in the kitchen.

His wife sat hunched over their dining table, sobbing into the palm on her hand, while tears poured down her cheeks, streaking her makeup as they fell.

“Y/N.” He croaked, laying his palm flat on her back.

The woman stiffened at this touch, quickly wiping away her tears and composing herself once more. She never let her husband see her cry.

“Oh, would you look at the time, sweetie.” Y/N gulped. “We better get going or else we’ll miss our chance to enter the costume contest, I really think we have a good chance at winning this year.” Her tone was unusually high pitched and alarmingly positive, but Severus could still hear the small sniffles she couldn’t repress every time she took a deep breath.

Y/N turned her back on Snape, rushing to the hooks by the door to grab her daughters coat and shoes.

“Y/N.” Severus repeated, his voice now full of pity.

“Like I said; we should be no later than 11, possibly earlier if this one has a sugar crash, but no need to wait up, I know you have more important things to do.” She didn’t dare even look in his direction.

Doing up the final button on her daughter’s coat, Y/N took her child by the hand and ushered her out the door.

“Y/N!” Snape said a final time, his tone firmer this time. “Look at me.” The woman froze on the spot but hesitated to face him.

Whispering in Delphine’s ear to go play, Y/N knew she couldn’t run from this conversation any longer.

Y/N forced her posture ramrod straight, tilted her chin up, took a long but shaky deep breath and finally turned to face her husband. It was obvious to him that she was trying her best to remain stoic, not wanting to show any weakness in front of the man who had none.

“You’ve made your choice, Severus. I can’t claim to understand it, but I’ll respect it. I know now that I’ll never be able to live up to the woman you first loved. I used to think that maybe if we were together long enough and I tried hard enough that I could be enough for you. I just wish I knew when I married you that would never be a possibility. I have always loved you, with every fibre of my being. I was foolish to think I deserved the same in return.”

“Y/N.”

“Stop saying my name. Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut tight, like it physically pained her to hear his voice. “Delphi deserves to have a stable home, so I’ll stay. But I can’t promise I’ll be the same woman I was. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough for you.” A tear escaped Y/N’s eye, this time she let it fall. There was no need to be strong for a man who loved someone else.

“Shut up, you foolish woman.” Severus scorned.

“Excuse me? Don’t you dare talk to me like that I-”

“I made my choice a long time ago. I fell in love with an incredible woman. She was uncommonly kind, remarkably clever and surprisingly very funny. She had this ability to draw the attention of any crowd but somehow never made it about herself. Her smile could light up any room, turn any sad man happy. She would dance until her feet hurt, and then get up and do it again, even if it meant she had to go barefoot. She is singularly the most strikingly beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I made my choice a very long time ago, Y/N.”

“I appreciate your honesty but I don’t want to hear it.” Another tear fell.

Snape slowly stepped towards his wife. He could see her shoulders tensing with every tap of his heel on the hardwood floor.

Severus wipes away her stray tears with his thumb, cupping Y/N’s face between two hands.

“The woman I fell in love with is so stubbornly strong, she has spent the last five years hiding away her tears from me. And it hurts me deeply that she thinks she could ever be second best to anyone. The day I met you was the day I realised I had never truly felt love before. There is no second place in my eyes, you have always been the only one for me.”

“But what about- “

“She was my friend.” He interjected. “And I failed her in the worst possible way. Just as I have done with you; by not showing you how much you mean to me, that changes today. I’m coming to the party.”

“You don’t have to.” She tried to escape his embrace.

“I want to.” He pulled her closer. “For you and for Delphine; the only two girls who have ever mattered to me.”

Reaching into his pocket, Severus revealed the old photograph of him as a teen. He felt his wife’s breath hitch at the sight of it. The source of all her anguish, one silly little picture he had obsessed over his whole life. He wouldn’t subject her to that anymore.

With one singular rip, Severus tore the portrait right through the centre, severing himself from the past.

“No more.” He promised. “I love you, Y/N. No one else.”

#severus snape #severus snape imagine #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape one shot #severus snape smut #snape x oc #snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #snapetober #severus snape headcanon #severus snape x oc #severus snape x reader #snape x y/n #snily #snapetober 2024 #pro snape

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supernotnatural2005 · 4 months ago

Text

The Arrangement - Chapter Six

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A night full of games and surprising confessions.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT!(18+ONLY!!!) swearing, fluff, slight angst, severe denial, meddling

AN: We've got a lot happening in this one! 😅 But we're still only dipping our toe into the complicated mess of these two. I hope y'all are still following along lol! Stay tuned for more to come 🫣

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist < Catch up here

The next few days in the lead-up to Christmas flew by in a haze of finishing up paperwork at the office, - so you could finally close a lid on it all for the next couple of days - last-minute holiday preparations. Oh, and Dean.

After the party, it was like a switch had flipped between you. The magnetic pull had only grown stronger, the need to touch, to be close, becoming second nature. It wasn’t just the moments tangled up in bed—though those were frequent and mind-numbingly good—it was everything in between.

The stolen glances across the kitchen, the casual, almost thoughtless ways you found yourselves reaching for one another. Brushing against him when you reached for a glass, his hand ghosting over your lower back as he moved past you.

The way he always sat just a little too close on the couch, legs sprawled wide, his arm draped behind you on the backrest—an unspoken invitation, daring you to close the distance.

And you wanted to. God, you wanted to.

It was getting harder to pretend this was just about sex when your heart clenched every time he left after a night of passion, when you had to physically stop yourself from asking him to stay.

When all you really wanted was to curl up next to him, let your head rest against his chest, listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while a movie played in the background.

When, during mundane errands, you caught yourself aching to lace your fingers with his, to make it real. To claim him, even though he was never meant to be yours.

But reality had a way of creeping back in, dragging you down from the daydream.

This wasn’t a love story. This was an arrangement, a deal struck between friends who knew better than to get tangled in feelings. You had agreed to this. You’d made your bed, and now you had to sleep in it.

But it didn’t stop you from wondering if Dean ever felt the same, if he ever felt this torn.

There were moments—fleeting, almost imperceptible—where you swore, he did. The way he’d watch you sometimes, like you held the knowledge to the universe, like you were something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have but couldn’t stop wanting.

The way his fingers would linger a second too long on your skin, his gaze tracing your features as if memorising them. Those quiet pauses where it seemed like he was about to say something—something important—only for him to shake it off with a cocky smirk or a teasing remark.

He never fought you on anything, never questioned the rules you both had set. If you brushed off a moment of tenderness, he’d go along with it. If you laughed off the way he held you a little too long after sex, he wouldn’t argue. He did everything you asked—never pushing, never demanding, never making it more than what it was.

And that had to mean something, didn’t it? If he wanted more, wouldn’t he fight for it? Wouldn’t he tell you?

The conclusion was brutal in its simplicity: it really was just sex for him.

Dean had never been the relationship type. The only serious girlfriend he’d ever had was Cassie. You still remembered how it had felt seeing them together back in college—how something uneasy and sharp curled in your stomach when you’d catch them holding hands or sneaking off together at parties. They had seemed happy. At least, he had seemed happy.

You ignored it. Pushed it down and smothered it beneath reckless distraction.

Enter Arthur.

A British exchange student with a devil-may-care attitude and an accent that made everything he said sound like poetry. It was wild, intoxicating, a whirlwind that consumed you for a couple of months. He made you feel desired, swept you up in grand gestures and passionate declarations. And for a while, he made you forget.

Dean broke up with Cassie not long after.

He never really talked about it, never offered much of an explanation beyond a casual shrug and a muttered, "Guess I’m just not the commitment type."

And maybe that should have been your first warning.

Because after Cassie, Dean never really had relationships. The closest to one you could think of after her was Lisa, but your thoughts didn’t linger on her for too long. Other than that, it was a few dates here and there, the occasional warm body in his bed, but nothing that lasted. Nothing that meant anything.

So why would you be any different?

The truth of it settled deep in your chest, heavy and inescapable. It wasn’t a matter of if this would break you—it was only a matter of when.

The night before Christmas Eve found you at the Roadhouse, upholding a long-standing tradition—one last gathering of friends before the whirlwind of holiday chaos swept you all in different directions.

You nursed a beer at the bar, lingering with Jo and Jess, the latter of whom you absolutely adored. You’d already threatened Sam with the dismemberment of his nads if he ever screwed things up, because Dean had been right—Jess was way out of Sam’s league.

Dark blonde curls framed her beautiful face, soft and bouncy, and as stunning as she was on the outside, she was even more so on the inside.

Despite being a couple years younger than you and Jo, the three of you had hit it off like gasoline on an open flame. Jess had a sweetness to her, but her sharp wit rivalled yours and Jo’s, and best of all, she was fun. Up for anything, always game to partake in your antics. She’d even taken Gabe down a few pegs when he’d tried his usual charm on her, and that had been especially fun to watch.

Tonight was easy, full of laughter, making new memories, with the kind of bond that only deepened over time. The more you drank, the more relaxed you became, letting tension melt away as you soaked in the warmth of your friends, your family.

Of course, your situation with Dean still lingered in the back of your mind, a persistent hum beneath the surface. And the drunker you got, the harder it was to keep your eyes from seeking him out. Admiring him from a far. In your defence, why did he have to wear that maroon shirt. The colour made him look downright sinful.

You’d kept your distance most of the night—part of the agreement was that thing between you, stayed strictly between you. Charlie was the only one who knew, but she wasn’t here, and thankfully, no one else seemed suspicious.

Still, you had to admit, the secrecy added a certain thrill, the temptation of risk making it all the more enticing. And so, as you discretely admired Dean from your place at the bar, an idea took root—one you were more than eager to set in motion.

As the night wore on, you now found yourself locked in a game of pool—doubles, losers play winners. You and Jo had already wiped the floor with Cas and Gabe, which wasn’t much of a challenge, considering you and Jo had been slinging pool cues since childhood.

However, your next opponents were Benny and Dean. Now this was a challenge.

And the perfect opportunity for a little fun.

Benny broke first, the solid white cracking against the neatly racked balls and sending them scattering across the green felt. A striped ball rolled straight into a pocket, earning him another shot.

“Looks like we’re stripes, sweetheart,” Dean smirked, leaning against his cue as Benny lined up his next shot.

“You think you’re winning already?” Jo taunted, resting her hip against the edge of the table. “We’re just getting started, boys.”

“Famous last words,” Benny rumbled with a knowing grin.

The game was close from the start, both teams evenly matched, trading shots back and forth with neither pulling too far ahead. While the rest of the bar buzzed with conversation and laughter, the four of you played like something important was on the line, the stakes unspoken but fully understood.

The others had lost interest quickly. Sam, Jess, and Cas had settled at one of the tables, wrapped up in a discussion that, from the snippets you’d overheard, had already veered into something academic. You rolled your eyes. Of course Sam would find a way to bring up philosophy or some obscure literary reference when he was supposed to be out having fun.

Meanwhile, in the corner, Gabe had Rachel exactly where he wanted her—leaning in close, hanging on his every word. Typical. He always had a way of charming his way into a woman’s good graces. It was almost a shame, really. Rachel was one of Ellen’s better bartenders, and you just knew by the time the new year rolled around, she’d be handing in her notice—another casualty of Gabe’s love ‘em and leave ‘em ways.

Benny cursing under his breath, after missing his shot, brought your attention back to the game. It was your turn now, and with only a few balls left on the table, precision mattered.

Which is why, as you stepped up to take your shot, you made sure to position yourself just right.

Bending over slightly, you lined up the cue with slow, deliberate movements, the hem of your little denim skirt riding up just enough to be daring, but also to give Dean a nice view of your ass. You felt his eyes on you instantly, burning into your skin like a brand. It was subtle enough that no one else would take notice, but he did. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his grip tightened slightly around his pool cue.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips.

You made your shot—sinking a solid with ease—before stepping back and letting Jo take over.

Dean said nothing, but when he moved past you to take his own turn, you caught the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something heated in his eyes.

Perfect.

And just for good measure, when his turn came around, you plucked the cherry from your martini - not your usual drink but a deliberate choice - and popped it between your lips, sucking just a little too slowly, the tip of your tongue flicking over it before pulling the stem free.

Dean’s cue slipped slightly as he lined up his shot, and when he finally took it, the ball skidded just off course, missing the pocket by a fraction.

“Damn,” Benny muttered, rubbing his chin. “That’s not like you, man.”

Dean huffed a breath, standing up straighter and rolling his shoulders. “Just a bad angle.”

But the look he shot you told a different story.

The game continued much of the same, tension crackling between you and Dean like static. Every time Dean lined up a shot, you made sure to be just within his periphery—adjusting your low cut shirt a little too, purposefully, bending over just enough for him to take notice, grazing by him when there was plenty of room.

You didn’t need to look to know the effect it had on him. The way his breath hitched, the flex of his jaw, the subtle shift of his stance like he was trying to will away the tightening in his jeans.

Benny was too busy teasing Dean about his uncharacteristically sloppy aim to notice what was really throwing him off. Jo, blissfully unaware, was just thrilled to be winning. Meanwhile, the rest of the gang carried on, oblivious to the little game you and Dean were really playing.

And then—victory.

You and Jo erupted into cheers, jumping for joy when you sank the final 8-ball. Benny groaned, shaking his head good-naturedly as he clapped Dean on the back. “You’re off your game, brother.”

Dean muttered something under his breath, but when his gaze found yours, his expression was hard. Heated. You just smiled, all too pleased with yourself.

Jo swiped up the forty bucks in winnings, fanning them out with a triumphant grin. “How ‘bout a round on me? Mend those egos of yours.” She teased, flashing the boys a smug look.

Dean gave her a tight smile, but his eyes were already back on you, burning with something unreadable.

“You’re funny Cher.” Benny snarked with an amused shake of his head but followed her as they headed for the bar. Dean sidled up next to you as you began resetting the table for the next game, leaning in close enough that you felt the heat of him at your back, the scent of his cologne—spicy, with deep, woody undertones—wrapping around you.

“I didn’t take you for a dirty player, Singer,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp against your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine, but you masked it with a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You kept your tone coy as you finished racking up the balls, then turned to squeeze past him, pressing your ass just a little more firmly against his front.

The low sound he made—half a groan, half a curse—was deeply, deeply satisfying.

You didn’t turn around as you sauntered off toward the bar, but you didn’t need to. You knew damn well he was watching, that he was still standing there, fists flexing at his sides, teeth clenched.

With fresh drinks in hand, everyone had congregated around the pool table again, this time for a match between you and Jo against Sam and Jess. However, Rachel asked if she could trade off with someone, more than likely to to show off a little for Gabe, you assumed. So, you let her take your place beside Jo, having plans of your own.

As the game carried on, voices and laughter filling the space, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd toward the restrooms.

And sure enough, you weren’t disappointed when, moments later, you heard heavy boots following after you.

You had barely reached the dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms when strong arms wrapped around your waist, and suddenly, your feet left the ground. A gasp spilled from your lips as Dean lifted you with ease, your back pressing against his chest as he carried you straight inside. The door of one of the cubicles swinging shut behind you, and then—click—the lock slid into place.

Your breathless giggle filled the small space, excitement thrumming through you. “Impatient, are we?”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed you gently but firmly against the cool stall door, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in without ever touching. His breath was hot against your neck, lips hovering just close enough that you could feel the warmth but not the contact. It was maddening.

“You think you’re real cute, huh?” His voice was low, rough—like gravel and whiskey, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

Your lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling a little too fast, but you tilted your chin, playing along. “I am real cute, Winchester.”

He huffed a quiet, humourless laugh, nose grazing just beneath your ear as he inhaled deeply, like he was trying to breathe you in.

“Playing these games,” he continued, voice dripping with something dark, something desperate. “In front of everyone.”

Your stomach clenched at the way he said it, like he had been barely holding himself together all night, like you had driven him just past the edge of his control.

Still, you bit your lip, feigning innocence even as heat pooled low in your belly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Dean let out a quiet, almost strained chuckle against your skin, but he still didn’t touch you. And that—the unbearable restraint—was what made you dizzy with need.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, lips brushing just slightly against your jaw before pulling away, making you chase the phantom sensation. “Because I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Your pulse fluttered, and you swallowed hard, your body already begging for the contact he was deliberately withholding.

Dean’s breath was hot against your cheek, his body so close yet still refusing to touch where you needed him most. The restraint was unbearable.

Then, without a word, he reached for your hand, guiding it down between your bodies until your palm pressed against the thick, straining length tucked up in his waistband.

Your breath hitched.

Fuck.

“That’s what you do to me,” he growled, the rough edge of his voice making heat coil low in your stomach. His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, making sure you felt just how wrecked he already was from your teasing.

You barely had a second to process before he was on you.

His mouth crashed against yours, all heat and hunger, his hands finally claiming your body like he was done playing, done pretending he had an ounce of self-control left. His lips were bruising, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he needed to consume you, like he was starved.

You moaned into him, hands scrambling at his belt buckle, fingers fumbling in your desperation to free him. Meanwhile, his rough, calloused fingers slipped beneath your skirt, dragging your panties down in one fluid motion. You barely managed to kick them aside before he was hiking your skirt up over your hips, gripping you like a man possessed.

Then, strong arms lifted you with ease, pressing you against the cold metal of the stall door.

A low, needy whimper escaped you as you felt him, thick and hot, rubbing against your entrance.

“Fuck,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours, his breath uneven.

And then, with one sharp, fluid thrust, he was inside you.

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as your body stretched around him, taking him deep.

Dean groaned low and guttural, his grip bruising on your thighs as he held you up against the door. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart… so fuckin’ tight.”

He didn’t wait. Didn’t tease.

He took.

His hips snapped forward with raw force, the stall shaking with each hard thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mixing with the broken, breathless moans spilling from your lips.

Dean’s teeth grazed along your throat before he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and ragged. His pace was brutal, relentless, every thrust hitting deep, dragging you closer and closer to that edge.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, clinging, your body shuddering with every hard roll of his hips.

“God, Dean,” you gasped, barely able to form words.

He let out a rough, dark chuckle against your skin, his voice thick with lust. “Not so cocky now, huh?”

You whimpered, too far gone to respond.

Dean’s grip on you tightened, and he drove into you harder, faster, sending another violent tremor through the stall. The sound of metal creaking barely registered over the rush of blood in your ears, over the desperate, filthy sounds filling the small space.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he panted, lips brushing against your ear, voice wrecked. “So wet for me. Been thinkin’ about this all night.”

Your head tipped back against the door, pleasure winding tight in your core, heat pooling low in your belly. You were close—so fucking close.

And then—

The restroom door swung open with a bang.

You both froze.

Your eyes snapped open, locking onto Dean’s just as a pair of familiar voices filled the room.

“Oh my God, my feet are killing me,” Jo groaned, the shuffle of heels against tile signalling she wasn’t alone. “Why did I think these were a good idea?”

Jess laughed, the sound echoing through the small space. “Because they make your legs look amazing, that’s why.”

Panic shot through you, your whole-body tensing.

Dean’s brows lifted in amusement, but before you could move—before you could even think—his hand clamped over your mouth.

You barely had a second to register what was happening before he moved.

Slow. Deliberate.

The thick slide of him dragged against your sensitive walls, teasing the very spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago.

Your eyes widened in alarm; your muffled whimper swallowed by his palm. Your look screaming: What the hell are you doing?!

Dean’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. His breath ghosted over your cheek as he murmured, barely above a whisper, “Payback, sweetheart.”

Then he did it again.

And again.

The slow, deep roll of his hips was agonising, each measured thrust sending shockwaves through your trembling body. The pleasure that had been so close to snapping before was now drawn out, stretched taut, leaving you aching, desperate.

Jo and Jess kept talking, completely oblivious.

You, however, could barely hear a word.

Your fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders, your thighs trembling around his hips, betraying you. You were completely at his mercy, your body reacting despite the overwhelming torture of keeping quiet.

Your vision blurred, your breath hot and uneven against his palm as he continued his torment.

“…Dean’s been acting weird tonight, though,” Jess mused, her voice pulling through the haze, casual, clueless.

Dean stilled for half a second—then, with a smug gleam in his eyes, pushed deeper.

Your whole body jolted, eyes crossing for a brief, dizzying moment.

Jo snorted. “Dean’s always weird. That man wouldn’t know normal if it smacked him in the face.”

You barely held back a whimper, your head knocking against the stall door as another slow, perfect roll of his hips sent fire licking through your veins.

It was unbearable.

You wanted to beg—for him to stop, for him to keep going, you didn’t even know anymore.

Your body was a trembling, oversensitive mess, and Dean knew it.

Fucking bastard was enjoying every second of this.

Finally—finally—after what felt like a damn eternity you heard the door creak open and the sound of their footsteps and voices retreating, before the door clicked shut.

And then silence.

Dean waited exactly one second before tearing his hand away from your mouth, grabbing your thighs in a bruising grip, and slamming into you hard.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as all the built-up tension, all the torturous teasing, snapped like a live wire.

“All that fuckin’ teasing,” Dean growled, driving into you again, the stall shaking violently with the force. “You think you can just play with me like that? In front of everyone?”

You were too far gone to respond, too overwhelmed to do anything but take it as he fucked you with raw, punishing force, all the restraint from before gone.

The world blurred around you, everything fading but the feel of him, the way his body moved against yours, how he took exactly what he wanted.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm slammed into you, hitting you so hard your vision went white.

Dean followed seconds later, hips snapping into yours as he spilled into you with a rough, shuddering groan.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was your mingled, uneven breaths, the only sensation the lingering sparks racing through your veins.

Then Dean exhaled a slow, shaky breath.

“…Yeah,” he rasped, lips brushing against your jaw. “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

His playful tit-for-tat attitude amused you, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips as he steadied you, helping you back to your feet.

Your legs trembled slightly, and Dean quickly caught you, his touch surprisingly gentle in contrast to just moments before.

Once you found your balance, he adjusted his jeans while you smoothed down your skirt. You noticed him picking up your discarded panties, expecting him to hand them back. Instead, he slid them into his back pocket with a devilish grin.

“I think I’ve earned this prize, especially since I was robbed of the other,” he said, winking at you.

You froze, stunned, as he leaned in close, adding: “Besides, I want you to feel me dripping out of you, coating your thighs for the rest of the night.” His voice was low, dark, sending a shiver down your spine. “Call it compensation for your actions.”

Without another word, he slipped out of the stall, leaving the restroom with effortless confidence, his words lingering in the air as you were left burning, wanting more.

When you finally left the restroom—after deeming it safe enough not to look suspicious—you slipped back into the crowd, keeping your expression neutral. But you felt Dean’s eyes on you instantly, heat simmering from across the room. That damn smirk of his was ever-present, watching with quiet satisfaction as you subtly clenched your thighs, your face barely betraying the discomfort of the lingering stickiness between them.

Smug bastard.

Thankfully, the last game of pool was wrapping up, and you could finally take a seat, seeking relief from both gravity and Dean’s relentless torment. Two tables had been pushed together to accommodate the group, and between rounds of drinks and laughter, new stories began to flow, just as ridiculous as the last.

Dean, of course, had taken the seat beside you, his body an ever-present, unshakable force. On your other side sat Gabe, fully immersed in another one of his exaggerated tales, hands waving animatedly as he pulled everyone into his nonsense. You shook your head, laughing along, but despite your best efforts, it was impossible to ignore the occasional graze of Dean’s fingers against your thigh or the slow, teasing press of his boot against your shoe beneath the table.

He was hell-bent on continuing this little game, it seemed. And just as you were considering ways to get him back, someone else beat you to it.

“So, Y/N, I’ve got a question for you,” Gabe announced suddenly, shifting his attention to you with that signature smirk that always meant trouble. “One I’m dying to know your thoughts on.”

You eyed him warily but leaned forward anyway, curious. “Okay?”

His grin widened, and Dean stiffened beside you before a single word even left his mouth.

“Have you ever had a sex dream about a friend?”

The question sent a ripple through the group, some chuckling, others perking up with interest. But it was Dean who reacted the strongest, his entire body tensing, his hand curling into a loose fist on his thigh. His eyes snapped to Gabe in silent warning, but Gabe, as always, ignored it, relishing in the chaos he was about to cause.

You frowned, as if deep in thought, before shrugging. “I mean, it’s none of your business, but yeah, I have.”

Dean’s stomach dropped.

His head turned sharply to you, but you were completely unfazed, oblivious to the way he was practically holding his breath. He didn’t even have time to process his own relief or frustration before Gabe pushed further.

“Who was it?”

Dean had been banking on you shutting the conversation down. You had to. There was no way you’d actually answer, not with everyone watching. His entire body braced; muscles coiled tight.

You let out a soft, nervous chuckle, shifting in your seat. “Well…”

Benny and Cas exchanged subtle looks of concern. Jo, Sam, and Jess were already snickering.

“Now, don’t laugh, but a long time ago—senior year in high school—I had a sex dream about Cas.”

The table went dead silent.

Cas, who had been peacefully nursing his drink, froze like a deer in headlights, his blue eyes wide with quiet horror.

Dean, however, was having an entirely different reaction. His mouth opened, then closed, his brow furrowing like you’d just spoken in another language.

“Cas?” His voice was louder than necessary, filled with disbelief, offense, and maybe just a hint of betrayal.

You glanced at him, unbothered. “Yeah.”

Dean looked from you to Cas, then back again, like he was waiting for someone to tell him he’d misheard.

“What?” You gave an amused shrug. “He helped me revise for my biology test, and I don’t know—maybe it was the subject, or maybe it was just the way he explained things—but yeah, that night, I had a super steamy dream about him.”

More silence.

“Cas?” Dean repeated, his tone bordering on incredulous.

“Yes,” you drawled, exasperated. “For the third time, yes.”

Gabe, meanwhile, was howling. Literal tears were forming in the corners of his eyes as he clutched his stomach, unable to contain his laughter.

“Oh, man,” Gabe wheezed between fits of laughter, clutching his stomach. “This was so much better than I expected.” His voice was breathless, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Dean shot him a look so sharp it could’ve cut through steel. If looks could kill, Gabe would’ve been dead ten times over. “You’re a damn menace, you know that?” Dean muttered under his breath.

You looked between the two of them, your suspicion growing by the second. “Okay, what the hell is going on? Am I missing something?”

Dean was quick—too quick—with his answer. “No.” His voice was firm, final, as if that one word would be enough to shut the conversation down completely. He shot Gabe a glare, a silent warning not to say another word.

But Gabe? He just grinned, eyes dancing with mischief, but for once, he actually kept his mouth shut.

The night carried on, but Dean’s mood had shifted. The easy-going, cocky energy he’d carried all night was gone, replaced with grumbling responses and an almost permanent scowl. He barely engaged, only speaking when spoken to, and even then, his replies were short and clipped.

Eventually, the group started to wrap things up, the night winding down as everyone exchanged their goodbyes. You went around, hugging your friends, saving Gabe for last. As you stepped into his embrace, he tightened his arms around you just enough to make it feel conspiratorial, leaning in so only you could hear him.

“For the record,” he murmured, voice teasing, “Dean wasn’t pissed about the Cas thing, not entirely.”

You pulled back slightly, brow furrowing. “What?”

Gabe smirked. “He had a dream about you. A very, very interesting one.”

Your breath caught for a split second before you scoffed, laughing it off even as warmth crept up your neck. “You’re such an ass,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Gabe just winked, giving you a final squeeze before stepping back.

Dean, who had been watching from a few feet away, narrowed his eyes at the two of you, suspicion flickering in his gaze. “What was that about?” he asked as you turned toward him.

You flashed him an innocent smile. “Nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, shoving his hands in his pockets as everyone finally went their separate ways.

The walk home was quiet at first, the December air cool against your skin. Dean's hands were shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders drawn tight like he was bracing for impact. You could feel the tension rolling off him, could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

You bit the inside of your cheek, debating whether to push. Then again, when had you ever been one to let him off easy? Besides, if this dream about you happened before you two had started sleeping together, you had hope that maybe—just maybe, this did mean more to him.

“So,” you finally broke the quiet, voice light, teasing, “you gonna tell me what that was about back there?”

Dean didn’t even look at you. “What was what about?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t play dumb. Gabe basically threw you under the bus before I even had to ask.”

That made him glance at you, expression alarmed. “What the hell did he say?”

“That you had a dream about me.” You nudged him lightly, smirking. “A very interesting one, apparently.”

Dean groaned, tipping his head back toward the sky. “I’m gonna kill him.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking some mercy on him, attempting to make it seem as not a big deal as it was. “It’s normal though, right? We’ve been friends forever; we obviously find each other attractive—it was bound to happen, right?”

You watched him carefully out of the corner of your eye, giving him the edge, waiting for him to contradict you, to say something—anything—that hinted this wasn’t as insignificant as you were pretending it was.

That it meant something.

That you meant something.

Of course, you were disappointed.

Dean just nodded along and let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, you're totally right.” You forced a small smile, trying desperately to hide your disappointment as you both continued your walk home.

Dean, however, was kicking himself. His agreement felt hollow, like an echo of what he thought he was supposed to say.

It should’ve given him closure, knowing you thought about it just the same.

But it didn’t.

Because now he knew this wasn't 'normal', and that it did mean something to him. However, your casual dismissal was just another reason as to why he had to keep his feelings in check.

For however long that may be.

AN: Okay so Gabe was a dick for that one! 😅 But then, is he maybe just trying to give Dean a little nudge? Again I can't apologise enough for these two! Believe me I want to smack them upside on the head myself 😅. I know it's a little bit more of the same, but we will be delving into new territory in the next chapter... As always, feedback is much appreciated ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell @nancymcl @happyfxckinghorrors @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @fangirlingfromdownunder @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @piptoost @shadysoulangel @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @waynes-multiverse @jaredpadonlyyyy @impala67stellawinchester @bonbonnie88 @youroldfashioned @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes @rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

Next Time...

“Hey.” You turned toward the deep, familiar voice, finding Dean making his way over. He was bundled in his leather jacket, but what caught your eye was the thick, dark blue scarf wrapped snugly around his neck—the one Mary had given him for Christmas. It was endearingly uncharacteristic, and the sight made you smile. He hopped up onto the hood beside you, the old metal groaning under the added weight. Only then did you realise just how cold you were, his warmth seeping into you from his proximity. Without thinking, you shifted slightly closer. “Knew I’d find you out here,” he murmured, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need to say more—this spot held years of memories. The two of you had spent so many nights just like this, staring up at the sky until Bobby hollered for you to come inside. A comfortable silence settled between you, the kind that didn’t need filling. But after a moment, Dean cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “I, uh… I got somethin’ for you.” You turned to him, brows knitting in curiosity as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, terribly wrapped package—newspaper and duct tape, classic Dean. Tilting your head, you took it from him, turning it over in your hands. “How come you’re giving this to me now?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice before a slow, teasing smirk curled your lips. “Is it something dirty?” Dean let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “No, no, nothing like that.” But then his amusement faded, replaced by a nervous energy as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… personal. Didn’t think you’d wanna open it in front of everyone.” That made your stomach flip, and you glanced down at the package, peeling away the layers carefully. Beneath the mess of tape and newspaper was a small, unbranded white box—the kind that usually held jewellery. The weight of Dean’s gaze made you nervous, his tension almost palpable. And then you opened it. Your breath caught in your throat.

#the arrangement series #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #sam winchester #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean x reader smut #dean smut #spnfamily #jensen ackles #abbalina writes

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sunsets-and-crows · 6 months ago

Text

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 6

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 7.1K

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Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent. Graphic deptictions of violence.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

Autumn had come, left its mark on the world, and was swiftly disappearing in Linkon. The trees stood bare, their leaves scattered and decaying on the rapidly freezing ground and the air carried the crisp threat of icy breaths and frozen nights. Tonight marked your first mission using the Hunter’s Association alias - bartending at an underground auction. How you’d managed to land the job was a mystery to you. Sure, you had some experience with mixing drinks, but not nearly enough to justify working the bar at such an exclusive event. During your “interview,” when the organisers had requested a practical demonstration, you’d clammed up and produced the most over-stirred Negroni you’d ever made. You’d apologized and hastily remade it, but even that wasn’t great. Yet somehow, you - or rather, Natalie Moore - had been hired. Natalie, a runaway, desperate and resourceful, blending in among the staff - a role designed to keep you hidden, unnoticed, and, most importantly, far from the action.

You parked the beat-up car, provided by the Hunter’s Association, and hurried to your destination. The building was as gloomy as the weather had been over the past few days, an old building that had once been quite beautiful but years of neglect had turned it into a sad husk of its former glory, but you knew better than to take its appearance at face value. You entered the building and walked down to the bar area.

The underground auction hummed with activity from the elite patrons scattered around the main hall. The atmosphere thick with the weight of unspoken deals and veiled power. The gathered people toured each display case admiring the rare and even dangerous items. The room itself was a study in contrasts: ornate carvings and velvet drapes disguised the building's grim origins, while the scent of aged whiskey mingled with a faint metallic tang that hinted at hidden weaponry and the musk of the centuries old building.

You stood behind the bar at the far end of the room, polishing glasses in methodical circles as your eyes scanned the crowd. It was all you had been entrusted to do so far, which was probably for the best as your focus was far away from the menial task in your hand.

Instead, you were watching Sylus Qin take his place among the elite, as effortlessly commanding as ever. His presence filled the space as he entered, capturing everyone’s attention. They couldn’t help their stares, yet no one dared to approach him without an invitation. His tailored black suit hugged his broad shoulders and tapered perfectly down his lean frame. His silver hair framed his sharp features, catching the warm light of the chandeliers and making him look like he’d stepped out of a painting, if paintings could exude danger and power.

Sylus moved with a predator’s grace, flanked by two men in crow masks, Luke and Kieran you’d discovered from your research. Every step was deliberate and unhurried, as he took note of his surroundings. The unspoken king of the N109 zone. The sight of him was always enough to start your pulse racing, a mix of respect and that simmering desire that haunted you when you were around him.

You tried to refocus on the bar, on the repetitive motions of your hands as you arranged the bottles and tools, trying to ground yourself. Yet, every few moments, your gaze flickered back to him, taking note of the items he seemed interested in, or who he deemed important enough to give a cursory nod to. He only spoke to his men, their conversation quiet and completely theirs, a faint smirk playing on his lips as the three of them chuckled about something one of them had said. The glint in his crimson eyes was as sharp and calculating as ever - a man who already knew the outcome of the night’s dealings. You felt a twinge of envy for the effortless way he commanded attention, for how he belonged so completely in a world you were only pretending to inhabit.

He was headed right for you, you realised. Well, for the bar that was. His approach left you no room to be caught off guard. You busied yourself arranging glasses, trying to look preoccupied as he closed the distance between you. You looked between the bottles you were fussing with and the other bartender working alongside you as his footsteps came to a halt. He cleared his throat, signalling for attention, completely unnecessarily when he already commanded it so effortlessly.

His voice, smooth as velvet, broke through the hum of the room. "An old-fashioned," he said. This voice made your stomach turn in somersaults.

“Right away sir,” The other bartender replied, but Sylus cut him off before he could start making his drink.

“I’d prefer that she be the one to make my drink,” He stated.

You spun around in shock to find his eyes already firmly locked on you. He was even more handsome up close, if that was even possible.

“Me?” You said, your words coming out a little more alarmed than you’d intended.

“Her?” Your colleague exclaimed at the same time, with the same tone of alarm. He must have remembered the negroni you’d made at your interview. “Sir, s-she’s just in training I think it’s b-”

“I don't care what you think,” Sylus snapped, his eyes never leaving your face. “I find my drink always tastes better when it’s been made by someone beautiful.”

You could feel the heat rise in your face. Beautiful. He called you beautiful. Your heart rate raced in your chest, if he was any closer, you were sure he would’ve been able to hear its frantic pumping. Was it too dramatic to pass out?

His smirk deepened further at your reaction, satisfied at having had the chance to throw you off your guard, for being the reason the blood rushed to your face.

The other bartender sighed before gesturing for you to begin. You nodded at him, then focussed on, keeping your hands steady as you prepared the drink. Each motion felt heightened - the clink of ice against glass, the subtle aroma of bitters and orange peel. You forced yourself to ignore Sylus as you concentrated on your work, pouring your attention into every detail, desperate to make this moment flawless, to impress him. When you slid the finished drink across the counter, your fingers brushed each other on the cool glass as he picked it up. Your hand flexed as you rested it behind you and watched him.

Sylus took a slow sip, his carmine eyes fixed on you. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the drink you had made for him, the movement drawing your eyes in. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension, before he finally spoke. "Impressive," he said, his voice laced with approval. "That’s the best old-fashioned I’ve had in years.” You could’ve passed out right then and there from the praise that fell from his lips. “Such… talent for someone still training, you’re surely wasted with your current employer miss…"

The comment hit you like a lightning strike, leaving your heart pounding the way he said it felt pointed, almost teasing. You managed a polite smile, when you’d finally encouraged your brain to resume its normal functioning. "Natalie," you said softly.

His eyebrow twitched a little as you said your alias’ name, but it was gone as soon as it happened. Instead, a slight smile graced the corners of his lips as he repeated the name. "Natalie," he said, as though tasting it, testing it. The name on his tongue was disarming, yet undeniably frustrating, you wanted to hear him say your real name, for it to be you he was addressing, not some fabricated identity. He placed a hefty tip on the bar in front of you, nodding as a gesture for you to take it.

“Enjoy your evening, sir” you said, desperately trying to remain as calm as possible as you took the tip. Was that too much eye contact? You should look away. Are you sweating?

One of his henchmen let out a slight giggle, only to be swiftly kicked by the other masked man. Sylus tipped his drink at you in a salute and walked away to his table, front and centre.

The lights dimmed in the room as the auctioneer stepped up to the podium and people hurried to take their seats. Your palms were sweaty and shaking as you watched the beginnings of the proceedings. You turned to the bartender and told him you were going to head to the restroom, desperate to find a quiet place to calm your racing heart and mind. He simply glared at you and nodded, still butthurt by the interaction with Sylus.

You found solace on the upper balcony, where the noise of the auction floor became a distant murmur. The air was cooler here. Its freshness kissing your skin as you leaned against the railing, trying to collect yourself. Your heart raced, not just from the interaction but from the overwhelming mix of emotions swirling inside you. Desire, frustration, and a gnawing sense of inadequacy warred for dominance. The tip burned from its place in your pocket.

What were you even doing here? Captain Jenna had insisted you take this opportunity to meet him in person, but where had it gotten you? Making his drinks and watching him. So, nowhere. You sighed, rubbing your face as you tried to collect yourself. Everything came back to the uselessness of the Hunters Association.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus had noticed your sudden departure and was in fact not pleased to have lost sight of his favourite source of entertainment. He remained seated, but his gaze scanned the room carefully. Where had you gone? His interest had been piqued, and now you’d disappeared. The realization left him unsettled, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar sensation he didn’t care to name.

Lucienne chose that exact moment to approach him, gliding across the room in her burgundy slip dress. The fabric clung to her figure, the sheen of the material catching the light with every step. To anyone else, she looked stunning, but to Sylus, it felt calculated and false. Her confidence faltered slightly under his sharp gaze, but she recovered quickly, smiling as she addressed him.

"Sylus," she said warmly, her voice dripping with familiarity. "I was hoping to run into you again tonight."

He stood out of politeness, offering her a cordial smile. "Lucienne," he said smoothly. "What a surprise." He knew he would regret leading her on like that.

She reached out, resting a hand on his arm as she leaned closer, her tone taking on a flirtatious edge. "I thought we might discuss a partnership," she began, clearly indicating something more than just business.

His face fell into a look of disinterest and he almost rolled his eyes at her attempt to flirt with him. His eyes flickered briefly to the bar, where he’d last seen you, and a flicker of irritation creeping into his otherwise flawless facade.

Lucienne, noticing his distraction, faltered. Her words stumbling slightly . "I mean, if you’re… interested, of course."

Sylus couldn’t stand her touch for much longer. He gently removed her hand from his arm, stepping back just enough to establish a boundary. "Forgive me, Lucienne, but I’m preoccupied tonight." He replied, his tone polite but detached as he sat back down in his chair.

The conversation was over, there was no question about it and Lucienne knew that. She had been dismissed. She lingered for a moment, her expression faltering before she excused herself. Sylus’ gaze returned to the room, scanning once more for any sign of you.

Your grip tightened on the balcony railing as you watched the scene below. Fucking Lucienne! Your chest tightened with jealousy. Of course, he was interested in her. She was elegant, poised, and clearly belonged in his world. And yet you couldn’t dismiss your own interaction with him.

Did you imagine it? The way his eyes softened when he looked at you. The way he seemed… interested in you. No. There was no way you were that delusional. He must have taken a liking to you, that was the only explanation for it. At least, it was the one you were going to go with. The one that gave you some hope that he would be accepting of you once you made your move.

No. He doesn’t belong to her. He doesn’t belong to anyone, yet.

The door clicked closed as you entered the stillness of your apartment, finally shutting out the chaos of the night. Equal parts of exhaustion and excitement thrumming through your system. Your feet ached from the long shift, but that was nothing compared to the way your emotions raged inside you.

You took the cash Sylus had given you out of your back pocket, your fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded it. It felt heavier than it should, not because of its physical weight, but because of what it represented. He’d noticed you. The thought sent a dizzying rush through your veins. He hadn’t just noticed you - he’d spoken to you, given you his money, chosen you in that moment. A wild mix of elation and disbelief surged in your chest, leaving you breathless.

The crisp texture of the bills felt surreal under your fingertips, grounding you even as your thoughts spun. Your mind replayed the encounter on an endless loop, picking apart every detail like a cherished relic.

And yet, a thorn of unease pricked at the edges of your joy, the thought of Lucienne tied to him casting a faint shadow. It niggled at the back of your mind, unwelcome and persistent, but it wasn’t enough to pierce through the haze of reverence you felt. The money, his money, sat in your hands like a promise you didn’t fully understand yet.

You’d played the role of Natalie Moore perfectly tonight - dutiful, composed, unremarkable.You leaned back against it for a moment, the cool wood grounding you. His voice, low and deliberate, as he ordered the drink you’d prepared. The faint curve of his lips when he’d complimented your skill. The way his crimson eyes had softened, just for a heartbeat, when they met yours. Your breath hitched at the memory, heat creeping up into your cheeks.

You shrugged off your coat, tossing it onto the back of the couch. Your heels were the next to go, kicked off haphazardly, one landing near the door and the other skidding across the floor to rest beneath the coffee table. The act of discarding them felt almost cathartic, but it did nothing to clear your chaotic thoughts.

Your apartment was a mess.

Clothes strewn across furniture; takeout containers littered the room; an enormous pile of dirty dishes. Your eyes swept across the chaos, the clutter pressing down on your chest like a weight that couldn’t be lifted. Each out-of-place object seemed to gnaw at the edges of your mind, a cacophony of silent accusations. You'd let this get out of hand. Your desk - once meticulously organised with your notes and recordings - was now a disheveled mess of papers, empty coffee cups, and half-finished reports.

This wasn’t you. You were methodical, deliberate, and precise. You’d always taken pride in maintaining a perfectly kept space, your cleaning routine serving to clear your mind and set you up for the coming weeks of work, but the last few weeks had been a whirlwind of spiraling thoughts and poorly managed emotions. It showed.

The sheer mess of your life felt like an insult to your obsession with him. How could you imagine yourself by his side when your own space looked like this? Disgusting.

“God,” you muttered under your breath, the word slicing through the oppressive silence.

Despite the ache in your feet and your exhaustion, you knew you couldn’t leave the mess any longer. Pulling your hair back into a ponytail, you dove in. The rhythmic act of cleaning took over as you scrubbed dishes, tidied up clutter, and vacuumed the floors. Each task felt like a small victory, the chaos slowly giving way to order. Trash bags piled up, requiring three trips to the bins, each one tossed with a satisfying finality. By the time you reached your desk, the rest of the apartment had transformed into the haven it was meant to be. Only a few loads of laundry, your desk and a change of bedding remained before you could finally call it a night.

You started organising your desk. Sorting into piles to be filed, “reports” to be finished and you silently tucked away a few more personal notes. It was there, amidst the organised disarray of your notes and tools, that you spotted something that had your mind pausing its focus. A tracker. Sleek, discreet, and entirely unassuming, it rested on the corner of the desk like a forgotten artifact. Its smooth surface felt cool in your hands as you turned it over to look at it more clearly. The Hunter’s Association had issued it to you as part of the mission - a tool to help you keep tabs on Sylus’ movements. But it had limitations, ones you could no longer afford.

Your mind whirred with the ideas bouncing around but with the state of your exhaustion, you couldn’t properly latch onto any of them. For now, you stored the tracker in one of the draws and decided to reward yourself.

Bath finally drawn, you allowed yourself to strip off the final layers of Natalie, relaxing into the warm, bubble water as just you. The water soothed your sore muscles, overworked from your combined shift and the borderline manic cleaning of your apartment.

Sinking further down into the bubbles, you sighed as you considered your next moves. You wanted him, wanted him all to yourself, no distractions. How were you going to explain yourself to him? How could you make him understand without scaring him? Your thoughts once again turned to Noah and his rejection of you. Wincing, you tried to push it from your mind, subconsciously cupping the side of your face from the memory of the sting.

Wait.

Maybe the problem was that he finally confronted you in public! That’s why Noah was so upset right? He had been caught off guard in public and reacted like that because of how everyone else was staring, right?

So, all you would need to do is get Sylus to someplace private, away from the hustle and bustle of other people. Easy!

Turned out it was not so easy after all. Your first thought had been to bring him here. To your own apartment. The idea had sent a thrill through you until you thought about it for even a little second. Your apartment was out of the question. It was too small, too exposed, and far too close to the Association’s watchful eye. You needed somewhere secure, somewhere they wouldn’t think to look. I mean all of your neighbours were hunters. Having him in your space, would absolutely not work.

You opened your laptop, setting it on your newly organised desk, and began your search. The listings in Linkon were plentiful, ranging from modest apartments to luxurious penthouses. But each one was vetoed pretty quickly. Too close to the Hunter’s Association. The area was too busy. Near a school? Absolutely not appropriate in your opinion! It all came down to the Association’s jurisdiction covering the entire city. Any property you acquired in Linkon would be far too easily found and traced. Bringing him here would place him in far too much danger. You were not willing to do that.

Frustration gnawed at you like a relentless itch, leaving you restless in your chair. You sighed, leaning back with a soft thud and dragging your hand through your hair, the strands falling messily back into place. “How do you even find a safe house?” you muttered to the empty room, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended.

The N109 zone. It was your only option now, but finding a property there? That was another beast entirely. There were no real estate agents for the N109 zone - no polished offices with eager professionals offering brochures and coffee. There weren’t even official listings. Just a tangled mess of underground networks, anonymous forums, and shadowy contacts who vanished when pressed for details.

You spent hours scouring message boards and digital scraps of information, each post a breadcrumb promising something useful only to turn to dust when you followed it. Property A? Already occupied by squatters who didn’t just refuse to leave - they sent a heavily veiled warning not to come asking again. Property B? Owned by someone with clear ties to Sylus’ rivals. Even seeing the name had made your pulse quicken, the risk too great to ignore. And Property C? A literal death trap with rotted floors, exposed wiring that sparked in the listing video, and the unsettling promise that it might collapse on you mid-sleep.

You could not embarrass yourself by bringing him to any of those places.

You closed yet another useless tab, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming. Your patience was fraying like a taut rope, thread by thread. You weren’t naive - you knew the N109 zone wouldn’t just hand you an answer wrapped up in a neat bow. But with every dead end, every link that spiralled into nothing, the reality of it all loomed larger: you were running out of options.

“How does anyone survive in that place?” you muttered bitterly, slumping back in your chair.

The quiet of your apartment enveloped you. That awful kind of stillness that lets thoughts creep in uninvited, pressing against the edges of your already frayed mind.

Your jaw tensed as you fought against the rising doubt, dragging a hand through your hair. The ache in your temples pulsed as your thoughts spiraled, circling the same impossible problem over and over again.

You wanted to see him. To know where he was right now, but the little menace had been almost going out of his way to lose you recently. There were days when you didn’t get to see him at all and that began to annoy you. What if he was doing it on purpose?

It would be so much easier if you knew where he was, literally all the time.

The idea sat there for a moment, harmless and innocent, before unfurling fully in your mind. You sat up straighter, your pulse quickening as it settled in place. Of course. Knowing where Sylus was at all times - his movements, his location - wouldn’t solve everything, but it would give you some form of highground. A sense of control you were sorely lacking right now.

Your fingers tapped against the desk as the thought burrowed deeper. You knew that tracker would come in handy.

It was tucked away in the drawer, exactly where you’d left it the day before, when you cleaned up your workspace. The drawer slid open, and you hesitated briefly before reaching for the sleek, unassuming device. The metal was cool against your fingers, heavier than you remembered.

Staring at the tracker, you placed it carefully on the desk. For a long moment, you just took in your situation, torn between reluctance and temptation. The tracker wasn’t yours - it was theirs, a tool given to you by the Hunter’s Association. Using it felt like crossing another line, breaking yet another rule.

But hadn’t you already done that?

You picked up the tracker, rolling it between your fingers as if testing its weight, its worth. It was a tool from the Association, but it didn’t feel like yours - not yet. That could change. You had the skills to corrupt its programming, to sever its link to their systems and bend it to your own needs. Of course, if they ever caught on, it would be over for you. But the thought of leaving it untouched, of not using it at all, left you feeling even more powerless.

Your chest tightened as you weighed the choice, a part of you thinking this might be too far, but the other part - the louder, hungrier part - had already made up its mind.

You returned your focus to the laptop. The glow of the screen painted your face in cool light as you sat back down, the room filling with the quiet hum of fans and faint clicks of your keyboard. You knew what you had to do. You had to make the tracker yours.

No links to the Association. Just you, and him. Well, watching him.

You worked with carefully, precisely, your hands steady as you pried the tracker open with a bobby pin. The casing popped apart with a soft snap, revealing a delicate web of circuits inside. A faint hum emanated from its core, and you paused for only a moment before diving in, disconnecting the transmitter. You cut the link that fed its data back to the Association. It was a simple task, but that didn’t stop the thrum of nerves as you severed the tie to their ownership of the tracker.

The next part was trickier. You opened a new program on your laptop, lines of code scrolling and scrolling endlessly, the DNA of the motherboard. Code you, luckily, knew well enough to work with. The Association’s firewalls were formidable, of course they were, you’d helped set them up in your early days as a hunter, but you were better. Where the Association had allowed itself to sit stagnant on advancements in programming, you’d remained informed. Each line of code gave way under your knowledge, firewalls and protections fell as you navigated deeper into their system, ensuring the PCB’s connection was completely severed from the Association, down to the core.When the final line of code executed successfully, a small ping sounded from your laptop. You smiled, feeling very content with yourself. But you weren’t finished.

You needed to attach your own GPS system, upgrade the transmitter’s coding and finally link all of it to your own personal devices. Each successful execution sent a thrill through you, a mix of relief and triumph. Finally, the tracker’s signal reappeared - this time, on your laptop monitor. A bright dot blinked steadily on the screen, marking its presence in real time. You moved through your apartment with the tracker, seeing the precise location on the screen moving with you.

You exhaled slowly, a tension you didn’t realise you’d been holding dissipating from your shoulders. You picked up your phone, syncing the device so the dot appeared on the map interface. When you moved the tracker across the desk, the dot followed seamlessly, its connection flawless.

“Perfect,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost reverent.

Another thread of control had slipped neatly into your hands, leaving you with a small, sharp satisfaction curling in your chest.

You sat back, staring at the pulsing dot on your phone screen. Where are you now? The thought came unbidden, edged with curiosity and something darker, something you weren’t ready to name. Knowing you could see him whenever you wanted, that you could follow his movements with just a glance, sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

But the tracker was just the first step. It gave you knowledge - his location, his movements - but that wasn’t enough. What good was knowing where he was when you couldn’t reach him? Couldn’t bring him to you? You needed more.

The words slithered through your mind, making your fingers twitch against the armrest. More control. More certainty. Sylus was untouchable, out of reach in every way that mattered, and the thought gnawed at the edges of your resolve. He wouldn’t come willingly. You’d have to bring him to you - close the distance yourself, force his gaze back to you, where it belonged.

The solution whispered itself to you like a secret: a sedative. That could work.

You pulled your laptop closer, once again motivated enough to solve your problems. Your fingers hesitated for only a moment before typing “effective sedatives” into the search bar. It felt almost ridiculous - wrong, even - and yet the click of the keys was so deliberate, so purposeful. You swallowed hard, watching the results flood the page in long, disjointed lists: blog articles, obscure medical forums, even links to dubious N109 black-market suppliers.

The first few results were absurd: "Ten Sleepy-Time Teas for Your Insomniac Lover!" A soft exhale of a laugh escaped you. As if the Sylus Qin would ever be taken down by a sleepy time tea. You scrolled further, past DIY sleep aids and over-the-counter nonsense, until the real answers started to surface. The research became clinical, factual, with medical terms you had to work hard to decipher. If you could talk to a medical professional, you could probably understand this a lot easier, buuuut you'd also almost certainly end up locked up. So the internet was your only source of information.

Chloroform was an early temptation, of course, you’d seen it used in TV shows and movies for the exact same outcome. Fast-acting, the promise of unconsciousness in only a few minutes - it had an appeal that made your pulse quicken. You clicked through case studies, reading about its use, imagining for just a moment pressing a cloth to his face and holding it there until…

No.

You grimaced, shoving the thought away as quickly as it came. The TV shows had clearly not done their own proper research. The drawbacks were too much: burns from exposure, unpredictable dosage based on weight and metabolism. Could you even reach his face? He was tall - so tall - you’d have to stand on your toes just to hold the rag in place. The mental image was absurd. Worse than that though, it was dangerous. And the thought of leaving a mark, even an unintentional one made you draw back from that line of thinking completely. You’d sooner fail than disfigure him in any way. Sylus was perfect, every sharp edge and flawless line.

With a sigh, you moved on, typing new terms into the search bar. Fast-acting sedatives. Safe sedatives. Substances for unconsciousness with minimal trace.

Pentobarbital caught your eye next. A potent barbiturate with a long and controversial history - it was strong enough to knock him out, yes, but its unpredictability made you hesitate. You skimmed the medical notes, lips pressed into a thin line as the words blurred together. Respiratory depression. Lethal at higher doses. Your pulse skipped at the word lethal. Immediately striking it off the list, that wasn’t an option. You would not hurt him.

The thought came back like a mantra, as if you needed to convince yourself. This isn’t to hurt him. This is to help him. To protect him.

Scrolling further, you found something promising: midazolam. A benzodiazepine with a clean, precise reputation. Fast-acting and reliable, it was commonly used in hospitals to calm patients before procedures. One moment they were awake, and the next… gone. Its effects were temporary, too - enough to ensure that you could get him where you needed to without causing harm. At higher doses, it could completely knock someone out, at lower doses, it could be used to make him easier to manoeuvre into a vehicle or something like that.

Your eyes traced the screen as you absorbed the information. Minimal taste, odourless in liquid form. Perfect. Your hands trembled slightly as you bookmarked the page, your breathing steadying as the weight of the decision settled over you. You sat back and stared at the text on your screen, imagining it in action.

A drink - just one. He’d tip back the glass, never knowing what you’d slipped into it. It would be easy. He’d close his eyes, his tall frame relaxing as the drug took hold. Then you’d… what? Somehow get him to a safe house. Your thoughts stumbled, and you forced yourself to keep moving forward. The details didn’t matter yet. What mattered was the first step: securing the sedative.

Your search shifted as you began scouring suppliers, looking for underground networks and black-market pharmacies that wouldn’t ask questions. This was the N109 zone’s territory, you realised. There were no rules out there - no ethics, no oversight. Just people like you, willing to pay the price for what they needed. You glanced at your dwindling stack of cash, running numbers in your head. It would be worth it. Every penny, every risk - worth it to have him.

A few days had passed, and the dust had settled. Now in your possession was a small vial of midazolam, a tracker linked to your phone, and a fully formed plan simmering quietly in your mind. The pieces were finally starting to align, each one as dangerous as it was necessary. Yet, the issue of the safe house remained unresolved.

Slumped at your desk, you opened your laptop with a sigh, half-expecting another fruitless search. Your inbox pinged, startling you slightly. A new message sat there, the subject line calling out to you: Exclusive Properties in the N109 Zone.

Your brow furrowed. Properties? You didn’t remember signing up for anything like this. You frowned, your mind racing. Had you registered your interest in properties accidentally? Maybe you had clicked something in your late-night searches and forgotten. Or maybe someone was tracking your internet history. The thought set you on edge, but you pushed the feeling aside. Your interest had been piqued, you clicked into the email, the sleek formatting and pristine images catching your attention immediately. There were three listings, each stunningly presented with immaculate photos and descriptions. They had flexible term contracts, furnished or unfurnished options; all boasting of being discrete and having excellent security as well.they were, for lack of a better word: perfect.

Number one was sleek and modern, all sharp angles and steel. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling city, though the interior felt cold - almost sterile. It was a fortress, but one without a soul. You could see its appeal to someone with no interest in comfort, just functionality. It would do but it wouldn’t be the most comfortable.

Number two was ostentatious. Crystal chandeliers, plush gold accents, and velvet everything. It reeked of new money trying too hard to be tasteful, every inch designed to be a showpiece rather than a home. It was beautiful, gaudy yes, but still beautiful.

And then there was, number three. The moment the image loaded, your breath hitched. Dark wood floors, soft amber lighting, and furnishings that struck the perfect balance between luxury and livability. The space was grand yet intimate, the leather sofas arranged around a massive set of windows that let the city lights spill in like a painting. It was elegant without being overdone - rich but warm, like someone had considered every detail carefully.

Your gaze lingered on the images longer than you realized. Something about it felt right. Safe, even. Like a place where you could rest, regroup, and focus - without feeling watched.if you ever had unlimited funds, this is what you would’ve chosen for yourself but alas you did not.

And then you saw the price.

Your heart sank. The numbers glared back at you, cruel and unrelenting. The cheapest penthouse was far beyond your reach, and this one? Laughable. You leaned back, dragging a hand through your hair in frustration.

“What a joke,” you muttered, biting back the sting of disappointment. Closing the tab, you shook your head. It’s just bait. Probably a scam anyway. Still that last property stuck with you, you even went as far as to pin it to your “home inspiration” pinterest board.

Across the city, Sylus stared at his screen, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched the moment you dismissed the listing. Through Mephisto’s feed, he saw the flicker of disappointment on your face and something deep within him twisted. He was irritated.

You hadn’t chosen any of them. Hadn’t even looked long enough. His jaw clenched as he brought up your file, flicking through to try and understand why on earth you would dismiss the places he picked out for you. Finally a thought struck him. Finances. Specifically, your finances. He rifled through your baking history and what he saw made his lip curl. Your accounts were nearly empty, savings depleted, seemingly all withdrawn over the course of a single week.He scrolled back further, checking your transaction history and almost sneering at what he saw. The total amount that had been withdrawn was less than he made in a single deal, significantly less actually. Your monthly income, a pitiful amount.

This is what you were living on? A bitter laugh escaped him, though it was more disbelief than amusement. The numbers on the screen - meager remnants of paychecks from the Hunter’s Association - were laughable. You’d been scraping by, sacrificing comfort, and working for them. Plus the job of a hunter was incredibly dangerous, not to mention completely essential to Linkon city. And this was your wage? Pennies?

“Unbelievable,” he murmured, a dangerous softness in his tone. She’s worth so much more.

Sylus’ fingers hovered over the keys, and with a few precise strokes, he adjusted the listings. He knocked down the prices to amounts you couldn’t ignore, nudging them closer to affordability. Even so, the thought of you paying at all rankled him. You didn’t owe him anything - he didn’t want your money, he just wanted you. He’d make them free but that would be far too suspicious.

“She’d better pick the one she actually wants,” he said to himself, unable to stop the faintest smirk from tugging at his lips.

The second ping of your inbox drew your attention. Frowning, you opened the message - the same one as before, but now with the subject line Updated Listings - Limited Time Offer.

Your brow furrowed, as you looked at the email suspiciously. “No way.”

But still you clicked back on the listings, your heart pounding. Each property was the same, same pictures, same descriptions, same everything. Except for one thing, the price. They were cheaper - dramatically cheaper. The numbers you’d seen initially were slashed down to something that could possibly be achievable. Still steep, but no longer completely impossible.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, your pulse quickening.

Had the system adjusted after picking up on your interest? Was this some kind of algorithm-driven discount? The whole thing screamed ‘too good to be true’, and every rational bone in your body told you to close the screen.

But what if it isn’t too good to be true?

Your gaze drifted back to the third penthouse -the one you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. It was perfect. Too perfect. Your instincts still screamed caution, but something in your chest clenched at the thought of letting it slip away. Well you know what happens when you want something.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” you muttered to yourself, the words firm. Rationality had, of course, gotten you nowhere. Maybe it was time to take yet another huge risk.

Your cursor hovered for a long moment before you clicked “confirm.” The screen flashed, and your inbox updated with a confirmation and instructions for sending payment. You exhaled sharply, the knot in your chest unraveling into something strange and electric. Relief. Satisfaction. Excitement.

“Finally,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The seller told you to deposit the cash in a subway locker and they would exchange it for the key, deed and other papers registering the property as yours. It all felt very official for the N109 zone, you didn’t even know that houses had deeds over there.

Sylus watched in real time as your smile bloomed - wide and radiant, lighting up your entire face. He froze, his fingers stilling mid-motion as he took you in. The way you bit your bottom lip as you checked the details, the small, victorious clap of your hands as you leaned back in your chair - it was intoxicating. His chest ached with something he didn’t want to name, something far more tender than he’d ever felt before.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soft, reverent almost. Of course you had picked the one he’d decorated for you - not consciously, perhaps, but with you in mind. The warmth, the comfort, the faint sense of safety it exuded - it was all tailored to what he imagined you would want. And you’d chosen it.

A smirk curled his lips, though there was no malice in it - only pride. It felt like a victory, like you’d stepped closer to where you truly belonged. To him.

“Adorable,” he muttered, watching you scroll through the confirmation screen again, as if afraid it might disappear. He leaned forward, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if speaking directly to you through the screen.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice rich and dark, “you should know better than to think anyone else would hand you something so easily. I’m the only one you need.”

Mephisto gave a mechanical twitch, a subtle nod of agreement, and Sylus leaned back, his satisfaction curling through him like a slow-burning ember. The sight of you - humming softly to yourself, your fingers tapping the keys as you admired the penthouse - was intoxicating in ways he couldn’t quite name. You were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

Thinking of you living in that space, beneath the roof of a building he owned, sent a thrum of delight coursing through his veins. Finally. You’d be safe there - so much more under his protection that nothing in this wretched city could touch you. Not the Hunter’s Association, not the chaos of the N109 zone, and certainly not anyone foolish enough to think they could come between you and him. He’d make sure of it.

But beyond the satisfaction of having you tethered so neatly to his world, there was a deeper pleasure - one he hadn’t anticipated. The joy on your face, the smile that lit up your expression when you thought you’d won, lingered in his mind like a warmth he couldn’t shake, no matter how tightly he buried it beneath his usual resolve. He had put that smile there. He’d made you happy, even if you didn’t yet understand why.

Soon enough, you would. You’d see how far he was willing to go - how much of the world he would bend and break to keep you close. Gods, you were perfect for him. Perfect. And now, you were right where you belonged - under his protection, and his control.

“Enjoy it, kitten,” Sylus murmured, his crimson eyes glinting as he stared at the screen. “I’ll enjoy it too.”

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I feel Sylus is incredibly hot in this chapter to be honest, but let me know your thoughts haha! Thank you so much for reading!

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