Outskirts of the ruined district, dawn light painting the rubble gold.
Two Nascent Soul young masters (once proud, now very much not) lay sprawled in the crater like broken dolls.
Limbs twisted at wrong angles.
Clothes shredded.
Pride obliterated.
Kai stood over them, wiping dust off his jacket, bike parked nearby like nothing happened.
He snapped a quick photo, sent it with one line:
**Mission completed.
Two idiots neutralized.
Zero civilian casualties after my arrival.**
Then he turned to the cause of the entire disaster.
Saintess Lyralei, the legendary MILF healer, stood there in a half-torn robe that barely covered the essentials: curves for days, silver hair flowing, looking way too satisfied for someone whose suitors just got turned into modern art.
Kai raised an eyebrow.
"What the hell was this about, lady?"
Lyralei shrugged, totally unbothered, licking a stray drop of blood off her lip like it was wine.
"I told them we could share.
Both cocks, both men, one happy saintess.
But nooo, their fragile little egos couldn't handle a threesome."
She gestured at the two unconscious heaps.
"Pride got in the way.
So I let them fight it out."
Kai stared at her for three full seconds.
Then shrugged.
"Whatever. You morons sort your own drama."
He walked back to his bike, threw a leg over, and revved the engine once (just to make the broken young masters flinch in their sleep).
Lyralei called after him, smirking.
"Tell your brother if he ever wants a real woman, my door's always open!"
Kai saluted with two fingers, helmet snapping down.
"Will pass the message.
Try not to start another war before breakfast."
Tires screamed.
He was gone in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
The saintess watched him leave, licked her lips again, and muttered to the unconscious duo:
"Kids these days… no vision."
The two half-dead Nascent Soul young masters finally stirred in the rubble.
Both sat up at the exact same second, bloodied, bruised, clothes in tatters.
Their eyes locked.
Perfect unison, like synchronized swimmers:
"I am NOT sharing with this bastard!"
They scrambled to their feet, qi flaring again, ready for round three.
Saintess Lyralei stepped between them, hands on hips, robe slipping off one shoulder and showing way too much skin for the situation.
"Stop. You idiots. One more punch and the Council sends Ethan Cole Rosewood."
Silence.
Then, again in perfect terrified unison:
"No no no no no no no no no—"
Both dropped to their knees, literally pissing themselves in fear, faces pale as ghosts.
Lyralei sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"All I wanted was a nice little threesome with my two favorite boys.
Is that too much to ask?"
The young masters looked at each other.
Looked at her.
Looked back at each other.
Gulped.
One whispered, voice shaking:
"…We can share."
The other nodded frantically.
"Totally cool with sharing."
"Super into sharing."
"Sharing is caring."
Lyralei clapped once, beaming like a teacher whose students finally got the answer right.
"Excellent!
Now, details…"
She leaned in, whispering something that made both men's faces cycle through red, white, and finally resigned acceptance.
Whatever she proposed was a mystery to the outside world.
But thirty minutes later, three sets of very satisfied footsteps could be heard walking away from the crater.
The city was safe.
The saintess got exactly what she wanted.
And the two young masters?
They learned the true meaning of the phrase:
"Happy wife, happy life… or Ethan Cole shows up."
Ethan's living room – late afternoon
Ethan was still on the couch, exactly where he'd been for hours.
Isabella straddling him, fully impaled, arms around his neck, head on his shoulder, heart-shaped pupils glowing with pure bliss.
Valentina curled against his side, one hand lazily stroking Isabella's back, the other resting on her pregnant belly.
No one had moved.
No one wanted to.
Perfect peace.
Then,
DING-DONG.
The doorbell.
Valentina perked up, kissed Ethan's cheek, and stood (completely naked, milk still dripping from one breast).
"I'll get it, baby."
She padded to the front door, not bothering with a robe. This was her house, her rules.
Opened it wide.
Standing on the doorstep:
Saintess Lyralei, robe artfully torn in all the right places, silver hair flowing, looking like sin incarnate.
Flanking her: the two young masters from earlier, faces bruised, clothes half-burned, but walking very, very carefully, like they'd learned a harsh lesson.
Lyralei's eyes lit up the second she saw Valentina's naked, glowing, very pregnant form.
"Well, well… future sister-in-law?"
Valentina blinked.
Then smirked.
"Lyralei.
And… company."
Behind her, from the couch, Isabella's head popped up, still seated firmly on Ethan, heart-shaped pupils narrowing dangerously.
"Who's at the door, Mommy?"
Valentina glanced back, amused.
"The woman who started a war because she wanted a threesome…
and apparently brought the leftovers."
The two young masters went pale.
Lyralei just grinned wider.
"Actually, I came to deliver a message… and maybe borrow your son for five minutes?"
Isabella's grip on Ethan tightened possessively.
Valentina laughed, low and rich.
"Come in. Shoes off. Clothes… optional."
She stepped aside.
The saintess walked in like she owned the place.
The two young masters followed, eyes firmly on the floor.
Ethan finally spoke from the couch, voice calm, cock still buried deep in his yandere stepsister.
"Make it quick.
I'm in the middle of something."
Lyralei's gaze dropped to where Isabella sat, then to Valentina's dripping breasts.
Her smile turned positively feral.
"Oh, I can see that.
Don't worry… I'll be very, very quick."
The door closed.
The two young masters suddenly realized they might not survive the afternoon.
The second the front door closed, every pretense of civility evaporated.
Ethan didn't speak.
He simply grabbed Saintess Lyralei by the waist, spun her around, and bent her over the wide arm of the sectional like she weighed nothing.
Her torn robe fell open completely, silver hair cascading across the cushions in a shimmering wave, perfect ass presented like a divine offering.
He freed himself in one motion, thick and heavy, already glistening from earlier rounds.
One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to arch her spine.
The other guided his cock to her soaked entrance.
No warning.
One brutal thrust, balls-deep in a single stroke.
Lyralei's scream was half-saintess, half-slut, echoing off the high ceilings.
Ethan set a punishing rhythm from the start: deep, hard, relentless, hips slamming forward with enough force to shove the entire couch an inch across the hardwood every time.
Slap—slap—slap—slap—
Wet, obscene, perfect.
Her massive breasts swung beneath her, nipples dragging across the leather, leaving shiny trails of milk.
"Yes—fuck—deeper—give me everything those pathetic boys never could—!"
On the main sectional, the two young masters had been given very clear permission.
Young Master 1 (golden hair, fire-affinity) had Valentina flat on her back, legs pushed up to her shoulders, pregnant belly glowing under the warm lamps.
He drove into her missionary style, balls slapping her ass with every thrust, her swollen breasts bouncing wildly, milk spraying in tiny arcs with each impact.
Valentina laughed breathlessly between moans, fingers digging into his back.
"Finally—some real cock in this house—ahh—don't you dare stop—!"
Young Master 2 (dark hair, wind-affinity) had Isabella pinned the exact same way, her legs over his shoulders, heart-shaped pupils spinning like broken slot machines.
She was beyond words, just high-pitched moans and the occasional possessive growl of "husband said yes—so fuck me harder—!"
The entire living room became a storm of flesh and sound:
- Ethan's low growls mixing with Lyralei's broken screams
- Valentina's rich, filthy encouragement
- Isabella's yandere-tinged moans
- Four sets of balls slapping four perfect asses in overlapping rhythm
- Milk dripping, cum leaking, sweat flying
- The couch creaking like it was begging for mercy
- The air thick with the scent of sex, milk, and absolute surrender
Ethan leaned down, bit Lyralei's ear hard enough to leave teeth marks.
"Cum for me, Saintess.
Show these boys what a real woman sounds like when she breaks."
He angled his hips, hit that perfect spot inside her, and slammed home one final time.
Lyralei shattered.
A full-body orgasm so intense she squirted in long arcs across the floor, silver hair whipping as her back arched off the couch, voice cracking into a scream that rattled the windows.
The chain reaction was immediate and devastating:
Valentina came next, walls clamping down, milking every drop from Young Master #1 while her breasts sprayed milk like fountains.
Isabella followed half a second later, yandere eyes rolling completely back, squirting so hard it soaked the cushions and her partner's stomach.
The two young masters lost it simultaneously, pumping load after thick load into the women beneath them, hips stuttering, voices reduced to pathetic whimpers.
Five bodies.
One perfect, simultaneous, earth-shattering climax.
Silence fell, broken only by panting, dripping, and the soft creak of the abused couch.
Lyralei collapsed forward, trembling, cum pouring out of her in a slow river.
The two young masters looked at Ethan with pure awe, like they'd just witnessed divinity in human form.
Isabella crawled over on shaky legs, still leaking, and curled possessively against Ethan's side, nuzzling his neck.
Valentina sat up, wiped milk off her chest with a lazy finger, licked it clean, and winked at the saintess.
"Welcome to the family, Lyralei.
Next time, bring wine… and maybe knee pads."
Ethan just smirked, pulled Isabella closer, and let the afterglow settle over the room like a warm blanket.
Another day.
Another conquest.
Another set of powerful people who now knew exactly who ruled this house.