Armageddon

Why this song, here:

Three naked bodies in the dark.This is what you came for, isn't it?

“Gods” flips POV mid-track - screaming your name out becomes screaming my name out - and so does Minho. The witness becomes the deity. The guy whose whole gift was noticing finds out what being seen does to someone who’s never been seen: once you play God, they’re gonna crumble one by one - Karina first, because she was the highest pedestal and had the furthest to fall, and Yeji second, watching, the bad girl who woke up and chose violence by handing him over to find out whether her own heart was unbreakable or just untested. The song struts like a conqueror and the bridge admits the prayer underneath: help me raise this heart. The boast and the plea. The destruction and the worship. Two girls screaming His name into the dark, finding out which of them survives the kingdom coming.

MINHO

My hands finally gripped Karina’s ass the way I’d been wanting to since I’d first sank inside her.

The room was already warm. Candles burning low from hours of this, the air thick with jasmine and sex and the salt-musk of bodies pushed past polite limits. But something shifted when my fingers sank into her flesh. The temperature climbed another degree. Then another.

It was building. The world on fire and none of us caring. Heat that would consume all three of us before this was over, and I was watching myself strike the match.

My hands slid from Karina’s hips to her ass, fingers sinking into plush flesh that yielded like it had been waiting for exactly this pressure, parting around my grip the way sand parts around water, reshaping itself to accommodate what was taking it.

Yeji’s breath ghosted across my shoulder blade. Her heat cut through the thin air between us, her arousal mixing with Karina’s, two distinct notes in the same chord.

Karina’s skin burned under my thumbs, fever-warm and ready.

The physics were mesmerizing. Her ass compressed under my grip, dimpling where my fingers dug in, the flesh yielding and reforming around the pressure. So different from Yeji’s firm, athletic glutes. This was softness. Luxurious, abundant, impossibly tactile.

Karina gasped at the intensity of my grip, her pussy clenching around me in response.

I knew what I was about to do to her. The way I’d unmade Yuna at the pool, the way I’d cracked Ryujin’s armor on the deck. I’d spent five years learning exactly how to build pressure faster than a woman could release it, how to read every micro-response and weaponize it - counting down without knowing I was counting, each touch another second closer to destruction. I just hadn’t understood what that meant until today.

Now I did. And I was going to push the button anyway.

“Can I - ?” My voice came out rough, barely recognizable.

“Yes,” Karina breathed immediately, desperately. “Please. Fuck me. Really fuck me.” A desperate whisper: “Bring it on.”

Yeji shifted beside us, her hand finding my shoulder. “She earned it.” Her voice dropped half an octave, throated and steady, the kind of tone that could have been permission or command, and I caught the slight hitch in her breathing beneath the words - vicarious hunger she couldn’t quite hide.

I leaned forward, using my grip on Karina’s ass to push her legs up and back. Higher, further, until her hip flexors strained and her breathing changed to shorter gasps as her diaphragm compressed against her folded body. Her inner thighs pressed hot against my ribs.

Then she reached up and took over.

Her hands found the backs of her own thighs, fingers curling around soft flesh, and she pulled, drawing her knees toward her chest, holding herself open for me. Her arms strained with the effort, biceps flexing, the tendons in her forearms standing out. The position folded her nearly in half, her massive breasts compressed between her thighs and her chest, cleavage impossibly deep and flushed, nipples dragging against her own skin with each breath. She was holding herself open, presenting, and the soft underside of her knee brushed my jaw with impossible tenderness. Yeji’s hand slid from my shoulder to my lower back, steadying, grounding, her palm flat against the muscle there like she was claiming this moment too.

Karina’s grip on her thighs tightened, knuckles whitening. Her pelvis tilted up, spine curved, exposing herself completely.

She had nowhere to hide like this. Nothing to hold back. And she was doing it to herself.

But I was watching her do it. And watching was its own form of taking - of worship that would unmake her, adoration dressed as erasure.

Karina’s pussy was exposed now, stretched around my cock with pooled wetness visible even in the low light, the evidence of her earlier orgasm glistening on her inner thighs. Her face tilted up to look at me with eyes wide and lips parted, her expression caught between anticipation and apprehension while something hungrier built beneath the surface.

For someone used to being tall, commanding, in control, this position made her so small. So completely at my mercy.

“Oh God,” she whispered, and her vulnerability landed in my chest like a held breath.

Yeji moved to get a better view, kneeling beside us, one hand still on my shoulder, eyes riveted to where our bodies joined.

Something else entirely was about to happen here - something raw and consuming and beyond any category I had a name for.

The R&B pulsed low through the speakers. All bass and breath, dark honey dripping slow.

Then the music went distant, underwater, like the room had forgotten how to make sound, and Karina’s breath held along with mine along with Yeji’s - three people suspended in the same held moment.

I pulled almost all the way out. Slow. Feeling every inch of her plush pussy clinging to my shaft. Slow. Her walls trying to keep me inside, dragging against me, until only my tip remained. Her eyes locked on mine in the breathless dark. Slow. So slow it ached.

Then I slammed back in.

Detonation.

The force was unlike anything I’d given her before - all my weight, all my pent-up need, all the restraint I’d been holding back finally released in one catastrophic stroke. My hips met her ass with a wet, obscene slap that echoed off the villa walls, louder than the music, louder than our breathing. The impact traveled up through my pelvis, rattled my spine, made my teeth click together.

“FUCK - OH MY GOD -“

The air left her lungs in a rush, “HHHnnnnghh -“, a raw punched-out sound beyond language - pure expelled sensation given voice. Her diaphragm seized against my stomach.

Her eyes went wide, pupils dilating past what should have been possible. Her mouth fell open in a perfect O. Her whole body jolted backward into the couch cushion, which compressed beneath her, springs creaking in protest.

But then her eyes found mine again.

Her eyes were hungry - past overwhelmed, past glazed, into something ravenous.

That goddess mask cracked. Underneath it was something feral, something desperate, something coiled so long it unfurled all at once. Her hands released her thighs and flew to my arms, gripping with bruising strength, pulling me into her even as the impact pushed her back.

More, her eyes said. Again.

A bead of moisture gathered at the corner of her eye, mascara beginning to streak and run.

The physics of the impact rippled through her body in slow motion -

Her ass cheeks compressed and bounced from the force, flesh jiggling and reforming. Her breasts bounced violently despite being trapped between her thighs and chest, the movement transmitted through her whole torso. The juice ring around my cock sprayed outward, droplets of her arousal misting into the air and landing on her stomach, her thighs, the couch.

The depth was impossible in any other position. My cock hitting her cervix, grinding against it, the pressure making both of us gasp.

Impact - her cry - springs screaming - all detonating in sequence, SLAP-”Ah!”-creak, the sounds colliding faster than I could separate them.

And underneath it all, the smell. Sex and sweat and arousal intensifying to something almost overwhelming, salt and musk and the faint jasmine of the candles all mixing together.

“Holy fuck,” Yeji breathed beside us, her hand tightening on my shoulder. Her other hand found my hip, nails digging in, and her thighs pressed together. She was wet. I could tell from her breathing.