Yuki moaned softly as she got off Oliver's cock, and fell onto the his side while her mother took up her position and began straddling Oliver's cuck her naked breast's bouncing around.
You did great~ Oliver said as he ruffles Yuki's hair like a cat, while his other hand travel to the thigh off the woman straddling him
Yuki blushed at Oliver's praise and nuzzled into his touch like a cat "Thank you, " she whispered softly before turning her attention to watching her mother ride Oliver's cock.
Yuki watched her mother with wide, curious eyes as Reina began to ride Oliver's cock. She had never seen another woman so openly sexual before, and it was both fascinating and arousing for her.
"Mom..." Yuki whispered softly as Reina leaned down to kiss Oliver passionately while bouncing on his dick.
Reina broke the kiss and turned to look at Yuki over her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart?" she asked breathlessly.
"Can I... can I touch you too?" Yuki asked hesitantly but eagerly.
A wicked grin spread across Reina's face as she reached back and grabbed one of Yuki's hands in hers. She guided it around her waist until it was resting just above where Oliver was disappearing inside of her.
"Go ahead, baby," Reina urged. "Feel how hard he's fucking me."
Yuki gasped at the feeling of Oliver moving in and out of her mother as she bounced her hips up and down. She could feel every thrust through the thin wall separating them, and it only served to make Yuki even more aroused than before.
—
(minutes later)
The bedroom was filled with nothing but the steady rhythm of quiet breathing. Yuki lay nestled between them, her head rising and falling gently with each breath Oliver took. Reina spooned her daughter protectively, a serene expression softening her usually confident features.
"Mmm... this is nice," Yuki murmured sleepily, her fingers lazily tracing patterns along Oliver's bare skin.
Oliver smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "It is," he agreed.
Behind her, Reina nuzzled into Yuki's neck, inhaling her daughter's comforting scent. "I'm glad I could let loose like this," she whispered.
Yuki gave a small, sleepy smile as she listened to their heartbeats falling into sync.
"Me too," she whispered, before sleep finally took her.
—
Minutes later, Reina stirred. She waited patiently until Yuki's breathing evened out, then carefully extracted herself from their cuddle pile. The bed shifted slightly, rousing Oliver from his drowsy haze. His eyes flickered open, watching her silhouette in the dim light.
"Is everything alright?" he asked softly.
Reina sighed, sitting up as she turned to face him. "Yes, but I need to talk to you about something."
Oliver propped himself up on one elbow, giving her his full attention.
"I want to apologize for earlier," she admitted after a brief pause. "I let my lust get the better of me, and I shouldn't have been so reckless with my daughter involved."
Oliver's expression remained understanding as he nodded.
"But I don't blame you entirely," Reina continued, her tone growing firmer. "I wanted it just as much—if not more—than you did."
She held his gaze. "That said, now that we've all had time to cool down, I want us to be responsible for each other. Especially when it comes to Yuki."
Oliver nodded again. He could see how much Reina cared for her daughter—it was evident in every word, every choice she made.
"I don't expect anything serious between us right now," she admitted, her voice softer. "But I do expect you to keep my daughter happy."
Oliver smiled, his sincerity clear. "I promise I'll continue to make her happy."
Reina's expression relaxed. She leaned over Yuki, pressing one last lingering kiss to Oliver's lips before settling back down.
As she nestled into the mattress once more, a quiet chuckle escaped her lips.
"You know… I never even asked your name."
Oliver smirked. "Sakurai Oliver," he replied.
Reina smiled. "Well, Oliver, I'm Tachibana Reina."
She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "And I don't know about you, but all this… activity has made me quite hungry."
A playful glint entered her eyes. "Would you like to join us for dinner? We could order something in."
Oliver chuckled. "Dinner sounds great. I could definitely use something to eat after… everything."
As if responding to his voice, Yuki shifted in her sleep, clinging to Oliver a little tighter. He found the gesture endearing and gave her forehead a light kiss.
Reina watched the interaction with a soft smile before stroking Yuki's hair gently, careful not to wake her
Good," she murmured. "I'll order something for us then."
She paused, then smirked. "You know, I never thought I'd be sharing my daughter like this... but here we are."
Oliver chuckled. "The world's full of surprises. Hell, there's a part of me that still doesn't believe today is even real."
Reina's laughter was soft, genuine. "I know what you mean," she admitted. "Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we just have to roll with it."
She looked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment.
"But I'm glad today's curveball led us here."
Oliver met her gaze, warmth filling his chest.
"Me too."
Reina smiled at his response before leaning in, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
"I'll be right back," she whispered before slipping out of bed. As she walked toward the door, she made sure to sway her hips just enough to be noticed
Oliver smirked as he watched her go, shaking his head in amusement. Then, glancing down, he found Yuki still curled against him, her breathing steady and peaceful.
A warmth spread through his chest.
Sigh…
Oliver exhaled deeply, shifting slightly onto his back. He lifted one arm toward the ceiling, the dim light catching the subtle veins along his forearm. A faint glow flickered at his fingertips.
"White Crane's Counter."
The dust particles in the air trembled, subtly shifting away from his palm as the technique took effect.
A grin spread across Oliver's lips. It worked.
The Martial techniques he had learned in his dream life as Fang Lee—the abilities he had cultivated in a world far beyond this one—worked .
Excitement surged through him.
He focused again, channeling the energy within him.
"Flowing Palm Strike."
Swiss. Swiss. Swiss.
Six consecutive palm strikes cut through the air, their force creating barely perceptible ripples in the atmosphere.
But he didn't stop there. He pushed further, testing the depth of his new power.
His Qi—mixed with a faint Yang aura—flowed through his meridians, responding to his every command.
—
Tokyo, city. 8:30 PM
The night was thick with mist, curling through the alleyways like spectral fingers. A bitter wind howled between the towering buildings, carrying the scent of rot and damp asphalt.
A ragged man staggered through the darkness, his breath hitching in panic. His tattered coat flapped as he pressed himself against the brick wall, his gaunt face slick with sweat. The city was wrong.
Windows that should have glowed with the warmth of apartment lights were black, as if painted over in obsidian. The distant hum of traffic, the occasional chatter of late-night wanderers—gone. The streets were empty. It was as if the whole world had fallen asleep.
But he knew.
Something was awake.
Shadows twisted unnaturally at the far end of the alley, writhing as if alive. The flickering streetlamp overhead buzzed and dimmed, casting the world into stuttering darkness. He swallowed, clutching at his chest as if to still his pounding heart.
Then, it moved.
A presence, neither beast nor man, slithered into view. Its form was wrong—stretched, elongated, a shifting silhouette of limbs that did not belong. Its head, or what passed for one, twitched with jerking motions, the air around it warping.
A wet, rasping inhale. Sniffing.
The homeless man choked on a sob. He tried to move, to run, but his legs were leaden with terror.
He didn't know what it was. He didn't care.
The thing lunged.
A shriek tore through the night—cut short before it could echo. The streetlamp flickered once.
Then, silence.
The mist curled tighter, swallowing the alleyway whole.
But the man was not gone.
A gasp. A violent inhale that tasted like iron and decay.
He choked, lungs spasming as he threw himself backward, palms scraping against rough concrete. His body burned with pain—but he was alive.
The alley stretched before him again, unchanged. The same cracked pavement, the same rusted dumpster, the same flickering streetlamp overhead.
He had died. He knew he had died.
And yet—
He still lived, and the beast that had just end his life loomed beyond the thinning veil of mist, waiting. Its presence was wrong, an absence of something fundamental. The shape of it flickered, fluid and unstable, as if reality itself was struggling to contain it.
His breath caught. He reached into his ragged coat, fingers fumbling for the rusted knife he kept hidden. A useless thing. A desperate thing.
The creature tilted its head. Not in curiosity—but in amusement.
Then, it spoke.
Not in words, but in echoes.
The voice that came from it was his own, stretched and warped, whispering from every corner of the alley. "No more running."
He gagged.
His voice. His own voice coming from something else. His stomach twisted, nausea threatening to spill over.
His instincts took over. He ran.
Boots slamming against pavement. Ragged breaths, sharp and shallow. The cold wind cutting through his tattered clothes as he bolted through the empty streets.
But the city…
It wasn't changing.
He turned a corner, only to emerge back into the same alleyway.
He turned again—another street—another alley—the same one.
The same rusted dumpster. The same flickering streetlamp. The same damp pavement beneath his feet.
A loop.
His pulse pounded against his skull.
"No," he whispered, voice cracking. His body should have been exhausted, his legs should have burned from exertion. But they didn't. They felt the same. Like he had never moved at all.
The creature hadn't moved either.
It didn't need to.
It was waiting for him to understand.
Terror gnawed at the edges of his mind, unraveling something deep within his consciousness. His knees buckled, his fingers twitching as he stumbled backward.
This was a nightmare.
No.
This was worse.
Because nightmares end.
A flickering streetlamp buzzed overhead. The mist swallowed the alleyway whole.
And then, silence.