Yura floated awake in a slow drift, surfacing out of heavy sleep as the weak morning sun trickled around the blackout curtains, dust motes whirling in the half-light. She shifted under the tangle of linen, every inch of skin singing, nerves still lit up and raw from the night before. The room was cool, a little too quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the AC and Joon-ho's steady breathing beside her.

She reached down instinctively, palm gliding over her ribs, tracing the angry bloom of hickeys running up her breast and collarbone—scattered like bruised constellations. Her hips ached, tender where his grip had left prints, the flesh at her waist sore from how he'd pinned her down, fucked her open, ruined her until her muscles shook and her head spun. She let her fingers drift lower, into the sticky, wet heat between her thighs, and smiled, half cursing him, half hungry for more. He'd made a mess of her, as always—her belly felt heavy, full, warm in a way that made her breath catch. She pressed her hand just above her mound and bit back a groan. The evidence of their night was thick and real, oozing out of her, his cum still inside her, making her squirm.

Last night replayed in jagged, glorious flashes: Joon-ho's mouth on her throat, her tits, biting down hard enough to mark, his cock splitting her open over the massage table, then again in bed, hands fisted in her hair as he fucked her raw. Every thrust echoed now in her bones, every breath a reminder. She didn't know if she wanted to strangle him or beg him to ruin her again.

She rolled over, careful, the sheets sticking to her slick skin. Joon-ho lay sprawled, one arm thrown up, the other draped low, eyes still closed but his lips curved in that lazy, contented smile she loved. His hair was a disaster—dark strands falling into his face, neck scattered with the red lines of her nails, a bruise from her teeth on his shoulder. She grinned at the sight, wicked and satisfied.

She snuggled up against him, pressing her naked body along his, soaking up his heat. His hand found her ass automatically, gripping a cheek and giving it a squeeze, his thumb tracing the fading welts he'd left. He made a soft, sleepy sound, shifting closer, cock already thick and heavy, nudging her hip.

"You're awake," she murmured, voice scratchy with sleep and satisfaction. "I was hoping you'd be dead to the world after what you did to me."

He cracked one eye, voice rough, teasing. "You're the one crawling all over me. It's dangerous, Yura. You know what happens when you tempt me."

She wriggled against him, feeling his cock twitch at her touch, hardening quickly between her thighs. "This thing is what ruined me last night," she said, reaching down to wrap her fingers around his shaft, stroking him slow and deliberate. He groaned, hips lifting, eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

"Don't tempt me too much, or you'll be crawling out of bed for the rest of the week," he warned, but his tone was light, full of mischief. Yura just grinned, squeezing him a little tighter.

"Promise?" she breathed, nuzzling into his neck. He shivered, pulling her closer, mouth finding her ear.

"If I had my way, you wouldn't walk for days," he whispered, tongue tracing the shell of her ear, making her giggle and shiver at the same time.

She slipped beneath the blanket, sliding down his body, hair dragging over his chest and stomach. His cock jutted up, flushed and leaking, begging for her mouth. She wrapped her lips around the head, sucking him in slow, savoring the salty tang, the way he stiffened and cursed, hand tangling in her hair.

"Fuck, Yura…" he groaned, hips arching up as she licked along his length, teasing the slit with her tongue before swallowing him deeper, letting her throat stretch around him. She worked him lazily, slow and wet, tongue swirling, hand stroking the base, squeezing his balls.

He moaned, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other gripping her hair tight, but never too rough. She could taste herself on him, thick and musky, mixed with his own salt. It was filthy, perfect, exactly what she wanted—him helpless beneath her, gasping for breath, muscles locked as she milked him for every last drop.

She let him get close, let his hips jerk, then pulled back, grinning wickedly up at him. "Don't you dare finish yet," she teased, stroking him with just her palm, slow, dragging it out. He growled, rolling his hips, trying to chase her mouth.

"You're evil," he said, voice wrecked.

"Only for you." She slid him back into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks, working her throat until he was trembling, begging. He tried to pull her off at the last second, warning her in a strangled gasp, but she held on, swallowing him deep, letting him cum down her throat. Hot, thick, salty—she swallowed every drop, licking him clean, savoring the mess.

He collapsed back, boneless, pulling her up and kissing her, not caring about the taste. She laughed against his lips, hair tangled, face flushed, utterly smug.

"You're insatiable," he murmured, voice thick with pride.

She nipped his jaw, climbing back up to curl into his side. "You made me this way."

He grinned, brushing hair from her eyes. "I'd say sorry, but I'm not."

She sighed contentedly, letting him hold her, letting the last tremors of pleasure ripple through her. Her body ached everywhere, but it was a good ache, earned, deserved.

Eventually, Joon-ho rolled out of bed, stretching, muscles flexing, scars and love bites mapped across his skin. He padded naked to the bathroom, water running as he started the bath. Yura sprawled on the bed, eyes drifting closed, legs still spread, thighs sticky and sore.

He came back a minute later, grinning, a towel slung low on his hips. "Come on. Bath's ready. Don't make me carry you."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I don't think I could walk if I tried."

He scooped her up anyway, arms strong and steady, carrying her bridal-style through the apartment. She squealed, clinging to his neck, nuzzling into his skin. The bathroom was full of steam, sunlight cutting through it in golden beams.

He set her down in the deep tub, water scalding hot, bubbles overflowing. She sank in with a sigh, limbs melting. He slid in behind her, pulling her back to his chest, arms wrapping around her waist, hands gentle for once.

He picked up a soft sponge, lathering her skin, tracing every mark he'd left. "I really did a number on you," he murmured, rubbing circles into her sore hips, kissing her shoulder.

Yura leaned back, letting her head fall against his collarbone. "I feel like my bones are jelly," she sighed, utterly relaxed.

He chuckled, teasing. "Next time, I'll go easier."

She twisted to look at him, eyes sharp. "Don't you dare."

He laughed, dipping his head to kiss her, mouth slow and deep, soap and sweat and love.

They stayed in the bath until the water cooled, trading soft kisses and filthier promises, washing each other with lazy, tender care. When they finally climbed out, toweling off, she caught her reflection in the mirror—hair wild, neck and chest peppered with bruises and bites. She met his eyes in the mirror, both of them grinning at the evidence, the silent pride in every mark.

They dressed in soft robes, padding to the kitchen together. Joon-ho brewed coffee, humming tunelessly, while Yura sliced fruit and toasted bread. They shared small kisses, little touches, hands lingering too long. Everything was easy, close, the air thick with the heat of last night and the comfort of the morning after.

Breakfast was simple—toast, coffee, a little fruit, Joon-ho feeding her bites and stealing pieces off her plate. Yura glowed, soreness a secret badge of honor, every movement reminding her of the night before.

As they finished, Yura's phone buzzed—a message from Harin lighting up the group chat. She opened it, and immediately snorted, nearly spraying coffee across the table.

A wild, blurry selfie filled the screen—Alina's hotel room in glorious chaos. Harin, Mirae, Min-Kyung, Alina, Yumi, and Natty all piled together. Alina and Min-Kyung were completely naked, grinning, their bodies tangled together; Yumi was curled up in Mirae's lap, both of them in matching lace lingerie. Harin looked hungover as hell, mascara smudged, hair a mess, holding up a peace sign and clutching a half-empty bottle. Natty was sprawled across the foot of the bed, drooling on a pillow, one tit out, blissfully unaware.

The caption screamed: "WE WON, CRYPTOQUEEN GOT WRECKED! Look at this chaos 😂🫠"

More texts followed instantly.

Harin: "Let's go out for lunch! Everyone's waking up, I need something greasy or I'll die."

Min-Kyung: "You should see Alina's nipples, she looks like she fought a blender."

Alina: (photo of her nipples, swollen, with a pout) "I need an icepack and a leash."

Yura giggled, thumb flying as she snapped a quick selfie of her and Joon-ho—her robe pulled tight, hickey hidden under the collar, both of them grinning like idiots.

Yura: "You girls survived the night? I'm impressed. Lunch on us, don't be late."

Harin: "Yura's alive, which means she didn't let Joon-ho break her in half. Mirae, you owe me fifty thousand."

Mirae: "I demand photographic proof."

Joon-ho, reading over her shoulder, snorted. "They're a menace."

Yura just grinned wider, pride and affection warming her chest.

They bantered in the group chat, trading filth and inside jokes, until another noise drew their attention—a TV in the background, volume low, flipping through the morning news. The anchor's voice was bright, but the words prickled with tension.

"Last night, exclusive footage from the Zephyr party at Down Under Night Club—crypto group, foreign influencers, and chaebol heirs cause chaos in downtown Seoul. Several arrests made after reckless partying, with authorities warning about unlicensed crypto activity…"

Clips flashed: people stumbling out of clubs, camera flashes, security dragging out a foreign influencer in a sequined dress, faces blurred but energy unmistakable.

"Police urge citizens to be wary of new get-rich-quick crypto schemes," the anchor continued, deadpan. "Only Nexus and Blight are government-approved trading platforms. Do not trust others."

The segment cut abruptly to an ad: Hanzenith Capital, all glossy graphics and soothing promises. At the center, Baek Ji-hwan's polished, punchable face beamed out, declaring "Your money, our mission—join the trusted revolution in digital assets!"

Yura and Joon-ho exchanged a look, both rolling their eyes.

"Guess Hanzenith survived the night," Yura muttered.

Joon-ho grinned, wicked. "Barely. Give it a week, and they'll be headline news for a different reason."

"Who's worse—crypto bros, influencers, or our girls' group chat?"

He didn't hesitate. "Group chat. No contest. Crypto bros are just clowns. The girls are fucking assassins."

She laughed, kissing his cheek, their world still a bubble of private victory in the face of public scandal.

Another text pinged, this time from Harin: "I swear to god, if Alina flashes her tits at lunch, I'm not bailing her out again."

Alina: "You will and you know it."

Min-Kyung: "Yura, bring lube. I'm walking like I got rear-ended by a truck."

Yura: "You're on your own, brat."

The day was starting, chaos waiting outside, but for now the apartment was theirs. Joon-ho came up behind her, hands sliding under her robe, mouth warm against her neck. "You ready to face the world?" he asked, voice low.

She turned, giving him her filthiest smile. "Only if you carry me."

He smirked, sweeping her off her feet, spinning her around as she squealed, both of them laughing, breathless and wild.

They stumbled to the door, still tangled up, sunlight spilling in, plans pinging in their phones, the aftershocks of their night still humming under their skin.

Whatever waited out there—scandal, headlines, the girls' reckless joy—the bruises and aches belonged to them alone, a secret language in every mark. As the door closed behind them, Yura glanced back once, lips swollen, skin glowing, already hungry for whatever trouble the day might bring.

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