Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 147- Yuna’s Turn

"Should we go for another round?"

He said it the way he said everything — level, already decided, the question a courtesy rather than an inquiry.

Minjung looked at the phone in her hand.

Sixty-one percent battery. Two hours and four minutes of footage. Her jeans were uncomfortable in a way that had graduated from inconvenient to actively distracting over the last twenty minutes.

She looked at the jet camera mounts. The fixed ones on the ceiling.

Then at the small tripod stand folded near the equipment ledge — she’d noticed it earlier and filed it under things in this room I’m going to stop noticing before I have to think about what it’s for.

"You planned all of this," she said.

"Yes."

"The stand. The cameras. All eight of them on that bed—" 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"Minjung."

She stopped.

His hand found the phone in hers. Took it. Walked to the stand, unfolded it in two motions, mounted the phone at the angle that covered the bed, the wall, and the space between. The red dot blinked on.

He looked at her.

She had exactly four seconds of telling herself she was going to be reasonable about this. Four seconds of you are a person with judgment and autonomy and a clearly formed sense of your own dignity.

Then he closed the distance between them.

His hands found the button of her jeans.

Her breath went through her teeth.

"Don’t make that face," she said.

"I’m not making a face."

"You’re making— that’s a face—"

He pulled her jeans down.

Her panties were — not something she wanted documented. The evidence of two hours of filming at close range was extensive and visible and she made a sound that was half embarrassment and half something else entirely as the cold air of the jet cabin touched her inner thighs.

He picked her up.

She grabbed his shoulders — reflex, the grab of a person whose feet have left the floor without their permission. He carried her to the bed and set her down with her back against the headboard, her knees falling open, and she looked up at him and her mouth went dry.

Full size.

The last time she’d seen it at this proximity it had been in a mall fitting room and she’d been processing the event at approximately thirty percent capacity. Now she had full capacity and a two-hour reference library and she looked at the length and thickness of it and her body produced the specific, humiliating response of yes please before her brain had finished the review.

"Slow—" she said.

He pushed.

"HNNGGHH~~~!!"

The stretch of him. The remembered stretch, her walls knowing the shape and resisting it anyway because the shape was that shape, the length of it pressing into places that required a moment’s negotiation.

PAH.

"AAAHH~!!♡"

Her back left the headboard. Arched.

PAH. PAH.

"HIEKK~!!♡ AAAHH~!!♡"

His hands on her hips. That grip. The total, warm, this-is-where-my-hands-go grip that her nervous system had apparently decided to classify as a primary sensory event, the warmth of his palms against the bones of her hips sending a signal up her spine that arrived at her brain three times louder than intended.

"Raven — RAVEN — it’s too — AAAHH~!!♡"

PAH. PAH. PAAH.

"OUUNGHH~~~!!!♡♡"

Her thighs wrapped around his waist without instructions. Her hands found the sheets. The camera on the stand captured all of it — the specific angle of her face, the bounce of her chest with each thrust, the way her whole body rocked back toward the headboard on each impact and came back.

PAH. PAH.

"AAAHH~!!♡ — why does it — STILL — feel like—"

She understood what Elena had meant now.

He pulled out.

She made the sound. The involuntary one. The protest of a body that had been full and was now empty and wanted to register its position on the matter.

He looked at Yuna.

Yuna was still against the wall.

She’d watched the last five minutes with the expression of someone watching a documentary about a country they’re about to move to — absorbing everything with the specific focus of someone who knows they’re going to need this information personally very soon.

"Yuna," he said.

"I—" Her voice cracked. She cleared it. "I know."

She pushed off the wall. Walked to the bed on legs that were already shaking before she got there. Climbed on beside Minjung. Both of them on their knees, side by side, different heights, different bodies — Minjung’s lean and compact, Yuna’s slight and young — both facing forward with the specific posture of people who have decided something.

He came up behind Yuna first.

Not the front. His hand on the small of her back, pressing her forward gently, the angle changing.

She understood immediately.

"Wait — that’s—" She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Not — not there—"

"Breathe," he said.

"Last time I couldn’t walk straight for twenty minutes—"

"Breathe."

She exhaled. Long. Shaking. Her head dropping between her shoulders.

He pressed.

"AAHHHNN~~~!!"

Her hands clawed the sheet. Her spine went rigid, the specific arch of a body experiencing something that occupied the full range of sensation simultaneously — the stretch, the burn, the interior pressure of him pressing against the wall that separated her from the full of him—

"TOO BIG — it HURTS — Raven it’s TEARING—"

PAH.

"HIEKK~~~!!♡"

"You’re fine," he said.

"I’m NOT — AAAHH~!! — how does it fit — how does it keep—"

PAH. PAH.

"AAAHH~!!♡ AAAHH~!!♡"

His hand reached around. Found the soaked fabric of her underwear, still on, still in place — he hooked two fingers under the band and held it aside, his thumb pressing against the entrance of her pussy, not entering, just — present, the warmth of it, the pressure.

Yuna’s face went to pieces.

"HHNNGHH~~~!!♡♡"

"You know," he said conversationally above her, his pace establishing itself with that maddening unhurried certainty, "for someone who’s never had anything here before last day—"

PAH.

"—you’re remarkably easy to take," he said.

"AAAHH~!! — don’t say that—"

"It’s loose," he said.

"IT IS NOT—"

PAH. PAAH.

"AAAAHHH~~~!!!♡♡♡"

"Nearly," he said.