Chapter Text
The sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the sprawling Jeon family estate, casting a golden glow over the modern kitchen where Tae stood, humming softly to herself. It was a crisp morning in the upscale neighborhood, the kind where the air smelled of fresh-cut grass and distant ocean waves. Tae, in her late twenties, was a vision of effortless allure—her porcelain-white skin glowed like fresh snow under the light, her full pink lips curved into a playful smile as she poured coffee into two mugs. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, framing a face that could stop traffic: high cheekbones, doe-like eyes with a hint of mischief, and those lips that begged to be kissed.
But it was her body that truly commanded attention. Tae’s curves were a masterpiece—her massive breasts strained against the thin fabric of her tiny white crop top, the material so sheer it left little to the imagination, her hard nipples poking through like invitations. The top barely covered her underboobs, revealing a sliver of smooth, pale skin that led down to her flat stomach. Paired with it were high-waisted denim shorts that were more like panties than actual clothing, riding up high on her thick, juicy ass, the cheeks peeking out with every sway of her hips. No bra, of course—Tae hated feeling confined—and her thong was a mere whisper of lace, barely visible but doing nothing to hide the way her body moved with a natural, seductive rhythm. She dressed like this every day, whether lounging at home or stepping out for errands; it was her armor, her way of feeling alive, powerful, desired. Minho loved it, encouraged it even, saying it made her shine brighter than any jewel in his family’s vault.
Jeon Minho entered the kitchen then, his handsome face lighting up at the sight of her. In his late twenties, he was the epitome of the polished, successful heir—tall with sharp features, dark hair neatly styled, and a warm smile that could melt hearts. Dressed in a crisp button-up shirt and slacks, he looked every bit the CEO of the Jeon conglomerate, overseeing luxury hotels and real estate empires that spanned continents. He wrapped his arms around Tae from behind, his hands sliding possessively over her hips, pulling her back against him. “Morning, gorgeous,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck. His voice was deep, affectionate, the kind that made her toes curl.
Tae giggled, arching into him, her ass pressing firmly against his crotch. “Morning, hubby. Coffee’s ready. You look like you could use a pick-me-up after last night.” She turned in his arms, her big tits brushing against his chest as she handed him the mug, her pink lips brushing his in a teasing kiss.
Last night had been intense, as their nights often were. Minho was a devoted lover, always eager to please, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her body with reverence. They’d fucked for hours—Tae on top, her breasts bouncing wildly as she rode him, her pink, fat pussy gripping his cock like a vice. She’d come multiple times, her juices soaking the sheets, her moans echoing through their lavish bedroom. Minho had whispered dirty praises in her ear, calling her his perfect slut, his queen, while he thrust deep inside her. But when it came time for him to finish, he’d pulled out as always, spilling onto her stomach instead of where they both craved it most—deep inside her, planting the seed for the family they so desperately wanted.
That was the shadow hanging over their perfect life: the empty nursery down the hall. For two years now, they’d been trying for a baby. Tae’s body was fertile, primed, her cycles regular and her health impeccable. But Minho… tests had revealed the cruel truth. His sperm count was low, motility poor—a genetic hiccup, the doctors said, nothing he could control. It didn’t diminish his manhood in her eyes; if anything, it made her love him more fiercely. But the ache was real, a constant undercurrent in their otherwise blissful marriage.
They’d seen every top doctor in the country—fertility specialists in the country, even flown to international experts in Tokyo and Singapore. Injections, supplements, lifestyle changes—Minho had tried it all, his determination matching his wealth. “We’ll have our baby,” he’d promise Tae after each failed cycle, holding her as she cried softly into his chest. “I won’t stop until we do.” Tae would nod, her heart swelling with love, but in quiet moments, she’d touch her flat belly, imagining it swollen with life, her breasts heavy with milk. She craved motherhood, the feel of a child kicking inside her, but more than that, she craved giving Minho the heir he deserved, the family legacy to carry on.
Today was no different. As they sat at the marble island, Minho’s hand resting on her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh exposed by her shorts, he brought it up again. “I got a call from Dr. Kim yesterday. He wants to try a new protocol—some experimental treatment from Europe. It’s pricey, but hell, what’s money for if not this?” His eyes were hopeful, but Tae could see the strain behind them, the fear that this would be another dead end.
She leaned in, her cleavage spilling forward as she kissed him deeply, her tongue slipping into his mouth with a hunger that never faded. “We’ll try it, baby. Anything for us. For our little one.” Her hand slid under the table, brushing over his crotch, feeling him harden instantly. “And in the meantime… maybe we practice some more tonight? I bought this new lingerie set—red lace, crotchless. You’ll lose your mind.”
Minho groaned, his fingers digging into her ass. “God, Tae, you’re killing me. How am I supposed to focus on meetings all day thinking about that?” He pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him, and they made out like teenagers, her grinding against his bulge, the thin fabric of her shorts doing little to hide how wet she was getting. But work called, and with a reluctant sigh, he set her down, promising to be home early. As he left, Tae watched him go, her heart full yet aching. She loved him so much it hurt, but the void of their unfulfilled dream gnawed at her.
Just a few minutes’ drive away, in a grander estate perched on a hill overlooking the city, Jeon Jungkook sat alone in his study. At fifty-two, he was still a force of nature—tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles honed from years of discipline, even in retirement. His salt-and-pepper hair was styled back, his jawline sharp and dusted with stubble, eyes dark and piercing like a predator’s. Handsome didn’t cover it; he exuded raw power, the kind that turned heads and weakened knees. As a retired gynecologist, he’d spent decades in the medical world, delivering babies, solving fertility mysteries, and building a fortune from private practices and investments. But now, widowed for five years since his beloved wife’s passing from illness, his life was a quiet echo in the vast halls of his home.
The house was immaculate—polished wood floors, walls lined with books on medicine and art, a gym downstairs where he worked out daily to keep his body sculpted. But it was empty. No laughter, no footsteps but his own. Jungkook poured himself a scotch, neat, and stared out the window at the manicured gardens below. His thoughts often drifted to his son, Minho, the light of his life, and Tae, his stunning daughter-in-law. He’d watched them marry three years ago, beaming with pride as Minho took over the family business seamlessly. Tae had captivated him from the start—her beauty was intoxicating, her spirit fiery. He remembered the wedding reception, how she’d danced in a form-fitting gown that hugged her curves, her laughter ringing out like music.
But he knew their secret pain. Minho confided in him months ago, over a late-night call: the fertility struggles, the doctors, the endless tests pointing to Minho’s low sperm quality. Jungkook’s heart had broken for them. As a former specialist, he understood the science all too well—sometimes, nature was cruel, no matter the wealth or will. He’d offered advice, recommended colleagues, but nothing had worked. And deep down, Jungkook yearned for a grandchild. At his age, the thought of legacy burned brighter. He imagined bouncing a little one on his knee, teaching them about the world, filling his empty home with joy again. Minho deserved fatherhood; Tae deserved the motherhood she so clearly craved.
Sighing, Jungkook set down his glass and headed to his home office, where medical journals still lined the shelves. He flipped through one absentmindedly, his mind wandering to Tae. God, she was something else—those slutty outfits she wore without shame, the way her body moved like liquid sin. He’d caught glimpses during family dinners: crop tops that barely contained her huge tits, skirts so short they revealed the curve of her ass when she bent over. It stirred something primal in him, a heat he hadn’t felt since his wife. But he pushed it down; she was his son’s wife, off-limits. Still, in the quiet nights, alone in his king-sized bed, his hand would wander, fantasies creeping in—of her pink lips wrapped around him, her fat pussy clenching as he filled her in ways Minho couldn’t.
He shook his head, guilt flickering. No, this was about family, about helping them. Maybe he could dig into his old networks, find a breakthrough. Or perhaps… something more direct. The thought lingered, forbidden and thrilling, as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over his solitary world. Little did he know, the paths of desire were already converging, ready to ignite.