"you make me feel good"

You Make Me Feel Good

The sultry heat of a clear summer evening hung over the vibrant streets of Berlin, a thick, intoxicating blanket of warm air that smelled faintly of hot asphalt, blooming linden trees, and distant rain. While the city above was bathed in the dimming hues of an amber sunset, the atmosphere below ground, tucked securely inside Y/N’s private, soundproofed basement studio, was a world entirely its own. The air conditioning hummed a soft, constant lullaby, maintaining a deliciously cool room temperature. Flickering amber LEDs cast a golden, candle-like glow across the expensive leather couches and high-tech mixing consoles, while shadows danced playfully against the acoustic foam on the walls. The air inside the studio smelled intensely inviting—a luxurious blend of melted candle wax from a sandalwood wick burning on a side table, the sharp, clean bite of fresh studio equipment, and the heavy, intoxicating floral perfume of the beautiful women occupying the room.

It was a highly anticipated, monumental day for the K-pop industry. The goal was to bridge divides, to overcome long-standing cultural and agency disputes through the universal language of music. And what better way to do so than to bring together two of the industry's most enchanting idols for an exclusive, highly secretive collaboration? Yiren Wang, the stunning twenty-three-year-old Chinese visual from Everglow, and Tzuyu Chou, the breathtaking twenty-five-year-old Taiwanese star from Twice, had been flown to Germany to record a crossover track cheekily titled, "Make Me Feel Good."

They were under the meticulous guidance of Y/N. At thirty years old, Y/N was a rapidly rising European producer known for his rigorous perfectionism. Standing an imposing 188 centimeters tall and weighing a solidly muscled 90 kilograms, Y/N possessed an intense, rugged allure. His short, thick black hair was slightly tousled, and his deep brown eyes held a sharp, observant weight that demanded absolute excellence. He was devastatingly handsome, radiating a natural, commanding masculine authority, yet he stood at a distinct disadvantage—he didn't understand a single word of Korean or Chinese.

Tzuyu had already finished recording her vocal parts with flawless precision. She stood near the mixing console, looking casually gorgeous, while Yiren, who had just arrived at the studio for her first face-to-face meeting with the formidable producer, took in the environment. Yiren looked incredibly alluring in a deliberately relaxed outfit: a stark white ribbed tank top adorned with a subtle, delicate butterfly motif that hugged her cute, perky A-cup breasts. A silver necklace with a tiny flower pendant rested perfectly against her smooth collarbone. She had paired the tight top with loose-fitting, bright pink sweatpants, and her long, straight black hair fell in glossy sheets loosely over her shoulders, shimmering under the studio’s golden light.

As Y/N adjusted the microphone levels, turning his broad, muscular back to the two idols, Tzuyu leaned in close to Yiren’s ear. A mischievous glint flashed in the Taiwanese singer's dark eyes as she initiated a secret whisper in rapid Mandarin—knowing full well that the towering European man twisting the knobs ahead of them couldn't decipher a single syllable.

"Y/N is fucking hot," Tzuyu whispered, her breath tickling Yiren’s ear, carrying the scent of sweet vanilla and mint.

Yiren pressed a hand to her mouth, an adorable, melodic giggle escaping her glossed lips as her dark, expressive eyes raked over the impressive width of Y/N’s broad shoulders and the thick muscles shifting beneath his dark t-shirt. "He really is incredibly handsome," Yiren whispered back, feeling a sudden, fluttery warmth bloom deep in her lower belly at the sight of him.

Tzuyu smirked playfully, her eyes darting to Y/N's strong profile before looking back at her friend. "He’s strict," Tzuyu added, her tone dropping into a sultry, teasing hush, "but in a very good way. He completely gives off that daddy vibe."

Yiren’s cheeks flushed a delicate, rosy pink, and she bit her lower lip to suppress another giggle, her imagination already running wild.

Suddenly, Y/N spun his chair around, catching the tail end of their giggles. His brown eyes narrowed slightly, though a polite, professional smile touched his lips. "Is everything alright, ladies? Are we ready for the next phase?"

Tzuyu immediately beamed her most charming idol smile. "Everything is perfect! It was so much fun working with you. I’m going to take a little break now."

Before Y/N could process the shift in energy, Tzuyu confidently stepped forward, pressing the soft, warm curves of her body right up against his solid, muscular chest. With fluid grace, she pulled out her phone, lifting it high to capture the moment. She leaned up and pressed her soft, glossed lips firmly against Y/N’s cheek, her eyes twinkling brightly for the camera as it snapped. She instantly posted the playful picture to her Instagram story, giving Y/N a cheerful wave as she moved toward the luxurious velvet couch in the corner of the room. "Have fun with your recording, Yiren!" Tzuyu chimed, settling into the cushions.

Y/N, slightly bewildered but determined to remain professional, cleared his throat and gestured toward the glass-encased vocal booth. "Alright, Yiren. You're up. Let's see what you can bring to the track."

Yiren nodded, her heart suddenly pounding against her ribs as she slipped past him. As she did, her gaze inadvertently dropped, her dark eyes locking onto the crotch of his fitted jeans. There, undeniable and heavily pronounced, was a thick, heavy bulge resting lazily against the denim. The sheer size of it sent a sudden, electrical jolt of heat shooting straight to her core. Her breath hitched. A heavy flush of deep, liquid arousal pooled between her thighs. She was instantly, dripping wet, the slick heat soaking into her soft pink panties with embarrassing speed.

She stepped into the cool, silent isolation of the recording booth, slipping the heavy headphones over her ears. Through the thick glass, she had a perfect, unobstructed view of Y/N sitting at the console. She was supposed to focus on the lyrics, on pitch and melody, but her mind was completely highjacked. Every time she looked at his intense, focused expression, his strong jawline, and the thick veins corded along his muscular forearms, a single, invasive thought echoed in her mind: How impossibly good could he fuck me?

The music track started, the heavy bass thumping through her headphones.

"Take one," Y/N’s deep, velvety voice commanded through her earpiece, sending a shiver down her spine.

Yiren sang, but her voice faltered, cracking under the heavy, erotic tension suffocating her chest. She couldn't focus. Her nipples were tightly pebbled against her white ribbed tank top, acutely sensitive as she shifted on her feet, the friction of her wet, swollen slit rubbing against her panties driving her insane.

Take after take, she stumbled. She missed cues, her voice breathless and entirely off-key. Through the glass, she watched Y/N’s handsome features harden with growing irritation. He sighed, rubbing his temples, the strict German perfectionist bubbling to the surface. He finally hit the talkback button.

"Yiren, stop. Just stop," Y/N blurted out, his voice sharp with frustration, the commanding daddy vibe suddenly overwhelmingly apparent. "It was so easy and smooth with Tzuyu. What is going on? You need to calm your nerves and relax so this recording will finally work."

The bluntness of his reprimand stung slightly, but oddly enough, the authoritative sternness in his tone only made her wetter. Her core throbbed with a heavy, rhythmic ache. She stood in the silent booth, panting softly, feeling the hot slickness trickling down her inner thighs. The sensual friction of the ribbed tank top against her hard nipples, the scent of the studio's sweet vanilla mixed with the primal musk of her own arousal—it all pushed her over the edge. In that breathless moment, a shockingly slutty idea bloomed in her desperate, feverish mind. She needed to calm him down, and she desperately needed to relax herself.

Yiren took off the headphones, placed them carefully on the stand, and pushed the heavy glass door open. She walked out of the booth, the soft fabric of her pink sweatpants swishing lightly with every step. She approached the console, her dark eyes cast downward in feigned innocence, biting her lip.

"I am so sorry, Y/N," Yiren whispered, her voice incredibly soft, vibrating with a subtle, throaty rasp.

Y/N sighed heavily, leaning back in his large, ergonomic leather chair. His stern expression softened slightly as he looked at her petite, delicate form. "It's okay. Sometimes the pressure gets to us. Do you want to stop for a bit? Should we take a break?"

Yiren looked up through her dark, thick lashes. A slow, incredibly mischievous grin spread across her lush lips. She slowly closed the remaining distance, stepping right up to the chair where he sat, stopping so close she could feel the heat radiating off his muscular thighs.

"A break sounds good," she murmured softly.

Slowly, deliberately, Yiren reached out. Her small, delicate hand rested against the thick, hard slab of his chest muscle. She felt his heart skip a beat beneath her palm. As she leaned in, her loose ribbed tank top shifted, offering him a tantalizing, generous peek down the neckline to the soft, pale swell of her delicate breasts and the lacy edge of her bra.

She stood intimately close between his spread knees, staring deeply into his startled brown eyes. Before he could utter a word of protest, Yiren tilted her chin up, leaned in, and crashed her lips against his. She kissed him with deep, unbridled relish.

At first, it was jarring—the sudden collision of soft, wet lips, the intoxicating taste of her cherry lip gloss mixed with the faint, sweet trace of studio coffee. Y/N stiffened, his mind racing, utterly confused by the abrupt escalation. He didn't know how to react, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. But as Yiren moaned softly, pressing her hot, fragrant body against his chest, sliding her delicate fingers into his short black hair, primal instinct overrode logic.

With a low, guttural growl, Y/N’s hands clamped down hard on her slender waist. He kissed her back, long, heavy, and intensely passionate. He parted his lips, allowing his hot tongue to glide seamlessly past her teeth, eagerly tasting the wet, sugary sweetness of her mouth. Their tongues tangled in a messy, wet dance, exchanging heated breaths in the quiet, dimly lit studio.

Yiren broke the kiss with a wet smack, both of them panting heavily. The air between them was practically vibrating with raw sexual tension. Her eyes were dark, dilated, burning with pure lust. Without breaking eye contact, her delicate hands trailed down the center of his chest, over the rigid muscles of his stomach, until her nimble fingers found the metal button of his jeans.

Click.

The sound of the zipper sliding down was deafening in the quiet room. Y/N gasped, his hips instinctively thrusting upward as she freed his swollen, aching cock from the confines of his denim and boxer briefs. It sprang free, an immensely thick, towering column of hot, white flesh that pulsed with every beat of his heart. It was magnificent—eighteen perfect centimeters of thick, rigid, veiny perfection, crowned with a smooth, purple-tinged head weeping with slick pre-cum.

Yiren’s breath hitched in genuine awe. She dropped gracefully to her knees, sinking into the plush studio carpet. The golden light bathed the impressive length of his erection, casting tantalizing shadows over his heavy, swollen balls. Yiren slowly licked her lips, her tongue leaving a trail of glistening moisture behind. She leaned in close, her warm breath washing over the hypersensitive head of his cock, making Y/N shiver violently in his chair.

She didn't take it in right away. Instead, she initiated a slow, exquisitely detailed ritual of lip-to-body worship. She pressed the softest, most loving kiss to the base of his shaft. Then another to the middle. Her plump lips fluttered against the thick, pulsing veins, mapping every inch of his hard flesh with gentle, sensual kisses. Y/N threw his head back, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling as a ragged sigh tore from his throat.

Yiren looked up at him with enormous, innocent doe eyes, smiling sweetly before she stuck out her tongue, drawing a long, wet stripe from the base all the way up to the slit at the tip. She tasted his salty, musky pre-cum, humming in delight. Eagerly, she wrapped her hand around the thick base, giving it a firm rub, while her mouth moved down to explore the heavy, musky weight of his balls. She took them into her mouth one at a time, swirling her warm tongue around the sensitive skin, sucking gently while she rubbed the underside of his shaft.

As she worshiped his masculine core, she began to whisper feverishly in Chinese.

"Oh god, you are so incredibly huge... I am so thirsty for you, my strict producer... I want to taste every drop of you..." she murmured against his damp skin, the foreign, breathy syllables spilling hotly onto his groin.

Y/N didn't understand a single word she was saying, but the sultry, dirty tone, the frantic, melodic way she whimpered her mother tongue against his most sensitive parts, turned him on beyond belief. The foreign whispers were an auditory aphrodisiac, intoxicating and wild.

With a soft gasp, Yiren opened her mouth as wide as she could and engulfed the purple head of his eighteen-centimeter cock. Her lips stretched taut, pulling lovingly over the immense girth. The heat and wetness of her mouth were an absolute paradise. She bobbed her head down, her lips slick with excessive saliva, sliding over the shaft. Down, down, down she went, the thick flesh parting the back of her throat.

Y/N groaned loudly, his hands dropping down to grip the sides of his leather chair, his knuckles turning white as he endured the overwhelming surge of pleasure.

Yiren deep-throated him repeatedly, the wet, sloppy, rhythmic sounds of her frantic mouth echoing through the quiet studio. Schluck, shhhluck, slop. She relished the thick, muscular texture stretching her throat open. She forced herself to take as much of him as humanly possible, her delicate hands holding the base while she pushed her face deeply into his groin. She held completely still for a prolonged moment, burying three-quarters of his massive eighteen-centimeter length past her lips, sliding the thick shaft all the way down her throat. The sheer size of it triggered a sublime mix of pain and extreme pleasure. A tear escaped her eye, tracing a glistening path down her flushed cheek as she suppressed her gag reflex, swallowing thickly, tears welling up beautifully in her dark eyes while she cried softly from the profound intensity of the sensation. She held him deep inside her mouth, letting him feel the incredible, tight, contracting muscles of her throat pulsating around him.

The wet, frantic heat, the glorious sight of her tear-streaked face holding so much of him inside her throat—it shocked Y/N fully awake. He was a raging inferno of lust now, his European restraint completely shattered. He needed more. He needed to see her.

"That’s enough," Y/N growled, a heavy, demanding edge to his voice. His large, strong hands reached down, gripping Yiren’s jaw tenderly but firmly as he slowly lifted her beautiful, saliva-slicked head away from his throbbing cock. The thick strand of saliva connecting his tip to her plump lips snapped, glistening in the golden light.

"Stand up," he commanded softly. "I want to see exactly what you have to offer."

Yiren, breathing heavily, stood up before him. A coy, highly erotic energy radiated from her every movement. With deliberate, excruciating slowness, she began to move her hips to an imaginary rhythm, a slow, hypnotic dance right there in the dimly lit studio. She hooked her thumbs under the hem of her white ribbed tank top and pulled it upward, revealing her tight, flat stomach, and finally tossing the garment aside. She stood before him in just a simple white lace bra and her loose pink sweatpants.

Y/N reached out with a trembling hand, his long, artistic fingers tracing the curve of her waist before finding the clasp of her bra. With a flick of his wrist, he unhooked it. The delicate fabric fell away, exposing her cute, perfectly round A-cup breasts. Her dark, rosy nipples were erect and shivering in the cool, air-conditioned breeze.

Yiren leaned in, capturing his lips in another deep, tongue-tangling kiss, while her small hand reached down, wrapping tightly around the slick, eighteen-centimeter shaft she had just worshiped. She worked her hand up and down in a steady, firm rhythm, stroking his length, spreading her saliva to keep him deliciously slick while their tongues wrestled furiously.

She broke the kiss, her chest heaving, and slowly turned her back to him. Hooking her thumbs into the elastic waistband of her bright pink sweatpants, she let them slide agonizingly slowly down her smooth, flawless thighs, letting them pool around her ankles before stepping out of them. Underneath, she wore a tiny, bright pink lace thong that completely exposed the soft, perky curves of her delicate ass. Looking over her shoulder with an expression of pure, unadulterated slutty perfection, Yiren slowly wiggled her ass from side to side, offering the sight of the pink fabric riding high in her crack directly to his burning gaze.