is it possible for a triples nien and kotone frotting fic
Friction Addiction
PAIRING: g!p!Nien x g!p!Kotone (ft. SeoYeon, JiWoo & DaHyun)
GENRE/CW: smut, fluff, crack, eventual smut, shameless smut, angst and fluff and smut, frotting, cock worship, cock tease, hand jobs, slow burn, slow build, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, fleshlight
WORD COUNT: 8,815
SYNOPSIS: Backstage after the lights dim and the cheers fade, Nien and Kotone find themselves lingering behind—exhausted, flushed, and still buzzing from the night’s energy.
A/N: This fic takes place during TripleS ‘Girls Never Stop’ Fan Concert DAY 2 (240707, Seoul). The time stamps throughout the story reference specific moments from that event, including setlists, MENTs, and unit stages. Everything else? You already know what kind of mess it is. Please support on AO3 as well!
July 7th, 2024. Seoul, South Korea.
The night air was alive and electric at the 'Girls Never Stop' Fan Concert DAY 2, buzzing with anticipation that pulsed through the packed stadium like a heartbeat. Thousands of eager fans had flocked to Seoul, converging upon the venue early in the day, armed with banners, lightsticks, and endless enthusiasm. Even before the doors had officially opened, an infectious energy thrived outside the venue, lines weaving around blocks as chatter filled with excitement, laughter, and shared speculation about what tonight might hold.
Inside, the stadium had been transformed into a glittering spectacle. The stage stood majestic and vibrant, draped in hues of pastel purples and pinks, accented by shimmering silver lights cascading down the elaborate setup. Huge screens flanked either side of the stage, set to capture every moment, every smile, every wave. The neon glow of thousands of customized tripleS lightsticks cast colorful reflections onto the darkened ceilings and walls, creating a mesmerizing galaxy of twinkling stars. Fans eagerly chattered and exchanged excited whispers, their collective voices humming into a warm, indistinct symphony of pure anticipation.
Backstage, hidden away from the audience's view, the atmosphere was equally charged. Staff hustled and bustled, double-checking microphones, tweaking sound systems, and coordinating with stage managers through hurried whispers and urgent nods. Makeup artists and stylists moved swiftly, adding final touches to the members’ outfits, smoothing stray hairs, applying subtle glitter to eyelids, ensuring every detail was perfect. The scent of hairspray, perfume, and adrenaline mingled in the air.
The members of tripleS themselves were buzzing, their excitement palpable. Their laughter and excited chatter drifted gently from their dressing rooms, punctuated occasionally by squeals of playful nerves. They were ready—hearts pounding, adrenaline pumping, eager to step into the vibrant lights and thunderous applause awaiting them just a few feet away.
Every second closer to showtime felt like its own eternity. The crowd's chants grew louder, synchronized cheers echoing powerfully as the lights began to dim. A deafening roar burst from the audience as the enormous screens flickered to life, announcing the imminent arrival of their beloved idols.
And then, precisely at 0:00 on the clock, a wave of sound erupted. The dazzling lights exploded to life, illuminating the radiant, smiling faces of the tripleS members emerging onto the stage. At that instant, nothing else mattered—time seemed to pause, worries evaporated, and only pure joy and thrilling anticipation filled every heart within the stadium.
This night promised unforgettable memories, moments that would linger warmly in hearts for weeks, months, years to come. Tonight would be more than just another concert—it was destined to become a cherished, beautiful fragment of their collective lives.
As the first chords of "24" burst forth at exactly 1:27, the atmosphere inside the stadium soared into something magical, transcendent. The synchronized movements of twenty-four girls across the brilliantly illuminated stage captivated every gaze, every heartbeat aligning with the pulsing rhythm. Fans screamed their joy, waving their shimmering tripleS lightsticks in perfect harmony, the sea of lights dancing like a breathtaking constellation.
Every lyric sung, every choreography executed, was delivered with relentless energy and passion. Sweat already glistened lightly on the members' foreheads under the bright lights, their smiles unwavering as they soaked up every ounce of adoration pouring from the audience. The crowd responded in kind, chanting along and amplifying each verse like an echoing heartbeat, the love shared between performers and fans electrifying the venue with pure joy.
After the energetic opening, a gentle calm settled briefly at 4:12 for their first MENT. Members playfully interacted, teasing each other, laughing brightly into their microphones, their banter effortlessly flowing. Fans laughed along, capturing small candid moments, waving enthusiastically whenever their favorite idol caught their gaze. The girls visibly relaxed, comfortable and grateful, their voices genuine as they expressed appreciation and excitement about being together with fans again on such a special night.
As the evening progressed and reached 13:28, the playful energy shifted towards something unique—the ‘Never Stop’ board game segment. It brought warmth, intimacy, and genuine hilarity, allowing fans and idols to bond through shared laughter and unexpected interactions. A wave of amusement rippled through the stadium, cheers mixing with laughter, the members becoming playful rivals, their competitive sides shining delightfully under the gentle glow of the stage lights.
Time flowed fluidly, each performance weaving seamlessly into the next. By 50:45, NaKyoung captivated the crowd with her heartfelt guitar solo, notes trembling delicately into the air. Fans held their breath, spellbound, a calm yet powerful reverence washing through the stadium. Then, like a sudden explosion of color and energy, tripleS AAA took over at 52:06, their performance of "Generation" igniting cheers once again, reigniting the energy that had momentarily settled into awe.
As the clock approached 54:57, tripleS KRE charmed the fans with "Cherry Talk," the sweet and playful melody filling hearts with warmth. By the time tripleS LOVElution burst into their energetic rendition of "Girls' Capitalism" at 57:55, the whole venue pulsed with joy and exhilaration, the choreography sharp and energetic, echoing the confidence and charisma of each member.
When EVOLution took the stage at 1:01:43, the atmosphere shifted yet again—more fierce, confident, and powerful. Their performance of "Invincible" carried a confident aura that made fans scream louder, cheering as if to validate the empowering message behind each lyric.
From backstage, hidden just behind the thick velvet curtains, Nien watched intently, her heart pounding fast with admiration and anticipation. She smiled brightly, her eyes shimmering under the soft backstage lighting as she glanced briefly toward Kotone, who stood nearby. Kotone was also watching attentively, a small but meaningful smile tugging at her lips, her eyes glistening with both excitement and quiet admiration for their friends performing. Their eyes met briefly, something delicate passing silently between them—a shared spark of excitement and an unexplored tension that neither fully understood yet, but both undeniably felt.
By the time tripleS NXT and tripleS Glow performed their sets, at 1:05:40 and 1:08:21 respectively, Nien and Kotone found themselves lingering near each other backstage more frequently, exchanging small glances and shy smiles amid the joyful chaos. The air around them seemed charged differently now, their heartbeats quickening subtly whenever their eyes met in brief yet increasingly significant moments.
As the VCR segment played out on the main screens at 1:11:30, the stadium lights dipped low, casting a soft glow over the audience. Fans took the opportunity to sit back, stretch, sip water, and adjust their cheering towels while watching the pre-recorded footage. The energy never truly dipped, though—it simmered beneath the surface, a quiet storm of love and anticipation waiting to rise again.
Backstage, the momentary lull felt surreal. After the flurry of performances, there was suddenly room to breathe. Staff moved more slowly now, checking monitors and whispering updates, eyes fixed on the countdown to the next stage cue. The whirring of camera rigs echoed faintly through the rafters. A cool draft swept in from the far end of the hallway, brushing gently against skin that was still hot from adrenaline and movement.
Makeup artists dabbed at sweat-slicked foreheads, stylists re-tucked wayward strands of hair, and water bottles were passed around with quick, grateful hands. The floor was scattered with marks of motion—glitter fallen from sleeves, set tape curling at the edges, and the faintest imprint of rubber soles etched into the stage coating. The buzz of the crowd was faint here, muffled and distant like waves crashing somewhere far beyond.
Even in that quiet moment, the mood was far from still. It was simply waiting. Pacing itself. Everyone backstage knew what was coming next. tripleS OT24's "Non Scale" at 1:26:44, a powerful group performance that always felt like a unified roar. That kind of moment—pure, synchronized presence—was what made the chaos worth it.
And still ahead was a flood of other memories-in-the-making: the final MENT at 1:30:14, warm and tear-stained, when members would open their hearts a little more than usual; the final push of songs—“Girls Never Die,” “Rising,” and “Colorful”—each one layered with meaning, strength, and affection. The kind of endings that didn’t feel like endings, only a promise that the connection wouldn’t fade once the lights shut off.
All around the venue, the night was blooming toward its peak. Sweat and light, sound and breath, the pounding ache of feet in sneakers long broken in—every detail added to the strange, aching beauty of a concert's final stretch. And though no one said it out loud, not the fans clutching their phones tightly or the staff with headsets buzzing in their ears, everyone knew this night wouldn’t leave them.
July 7th, 2024 would settle somewhere deep. In phone galleries, in memory cards, in lightstick scratches and worn voice boxes, in glitter found days later in the lining of a jacket. A summer night suspended in neon and noise, destined to glow for far longer than it lasted.
As the final seconds of the VCR ticked down and the crowd’s cheers began to rise again, a shift swept through the backstage halls—like a dormant tide crashing awake. Hairbrushes were tossed aside, last-minute touches halted mid-swipe. One by one, the members gathered behind the stage entrance again, forming a loose line as the audio count-in played through their in-ears. No one needed to be told to focus. They just did.
The crew dimmed the final backlights, and a breathless silence fell backstage. Even the managers and stylists paused, holding their breath as the LED screens lit up once more. And then, as if a switch flipped, the silence exploded into color and sound.
1:26:44 – “Non Scale.”
Twenty-four silhouettes emerged through the haze, bathed in blinding white light and gold pyrotechnics. The intro’s bass vibrated through the entire structure of the venue, shaking floorboards and ribcages. Fans screamed. Not yelled—screamed. Every phone was up. Every eye was wide. And tripleS didn’t miss a single beat.
From up high in the stands to the barricade seats brushing the edge of the stage, the audience was one seamless body of movement. Lightsticks bobbed in perfect rhythm. Fans bounced on their toes, mouthing the lyrics, swaying, shouting fanchants with raw-throated devotion. The live band built the track’s climax into something impossibly massive—bigger than anything that could be captured on a fancam or livestream.
The moment wasn’t just loud. It was sacred.
And behind the scenes, the atmosphere had changed again.
The earlier buzz was gone—replaced now with a quiet reverence. Backstage monitors played the live feed, and staff watched in rare stillness. Even those rushing between tasks slowed down, glancing at the screens as if pulled by gravity. There was something breathtaking about seeing it all come together. Costumes moving like water. Voices steady and proud. Years of training crystallized into one perfect, blinding moment.
At 1:30:14, the final group MENT began. The atmosphere inside the venue softened like candlelight. Members caught their breath, passing microphones between one another with damp hands and trembling fingers. Their eyes were wet—some openly crying, others holding it back with shaky smiles and nervous laughs. They thanked the fans. Each other. The staff. Themselves.
The crowd stayed silent when needed. Loud when it mattered. Together, it created a rhythm of comfort, like a heartbeat.
Then came the last three songs.
“Girls Never Die.” Thunderous, an anthem.
“Rising.” Hopeful, arms raised high.
And finally, “Colorful.”
The closer. Confetti exploded into the air, drifting down in soft, delicate flutters, catching in hair and open palms. Fans reached upward as if trying to hold on to the last few seconds of magic. Members smiled through tears. Some waved gently. Others screamed into their mics with laughter, letting it all crash out of them like a wave.
And just like that, the lights dimmed one last time.
The crowd lingered even after the final bow. Some still cried. Some sang. Some just stood there, taking deep breaths, trying to seal the night into memory before they had to step outside and return to real life.
Backstage was no less emotional. Members leaned against one another, hugging tightly in sweaty stage outfits, wiping off mascara and smudged lipstick with trembling fingers and gentle smiles. Staff clapped. Not out of professionalism—but pride. Real, stunned pride. No one left untouched.
It was the kind of night where time stopped and then rushed forward all at once. The kind of night where the afterglow wrapped around you and wouldn’t let go.
But somewhere in that wind-down—beneath the hum of winding cords and echoing laughter—was a silence that hadn't been there before. A quiet pocket in the chaos. Still untouched. Still waiting.
Because though the concert was over, the night... wasn't. Not yet.
Backstage had thinned out slightly by the time the final confetti had settled on the stage floor. The main crew worked quickly but calmly, disassembling mics and pulling cables, guiding the members one by one to their respective greenrooms. The air conditioning finally felt cool again, no longer clashing with the heat of a thousand hearts screaming under stage lights. Laughter still trickled down the hallways—some members high off adrenaline, others already dozing off on sofas with water bottles hugged to their chests.
Nien had just changed into her post-stage outfit: simple joggers and a cropped shirt with her hair tied up into a bun that didn’t survive much past the encore. She sat on the edge of a low bench near the side wall, her back pressed to the cool cement, eyes half-lidded, chest still rising and falling steadily. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the rings on her hand, silent in her own world for a moment, trying to hold onto the echoes of the stage—the cheers, the flashing lights, the weightless sense of everything and nothing.
Across the hallway, just past a barely open door, Kotone stepped out of her own dressing room. Her bare face was flushed, cheeks still tinted from exertion, her bangs clinging to her forehead from the sweat that hadn’t been fully blotted out. A clean hoodie hung loosely off one shoulder, and she nursed a plastic water bottle like it was holy. Her gaze wandered across the hall, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. She just spotted Nien. Sitting there, quiet and tucked into the stillness like a bookmark between chapters.
She hesitated at first—not out of nerves, but out of some unspoken understanding that moments like these didn’t need to be rushed.
Then, gently, her voice cut the quiet.
"You still alive over there?"
Nien blinked, glanced up, and smiled faintly without saying anything at first. Then she shifted, patting the space next to her with a light slap of her palm.
“Barely. My legs might’ve stopped working after 'Rising.'”
Kotone laughed softly, the sound light and tired but warm. She crossed over and slid down next to her, mirroring her position with her back against the wall, arms resting on her knees. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The hallway felt suspended. The muffled voices of other members floated from further down, but here—here it was just the hum of the vents and their shared silence.
“I still feel like I’m vibrating,” Kotone said after a while, glancing at her own hands. “Like I’m still moving even though I’m sitting still.”
Nien nodded slowly, eyes forward. “That’s how you know it was a good one.”
Kotone tilted her head, letting her temple brush lightly against Nien’s shoulder—not entirely leaning in, just enough to touch.
“It was better than good.”
And for a moment, that was all that needed to be said.
The night was coming down softly now. The sound techs had gone quiet, makeup kits were being zipped up, and members had started heading back to their hotel. The rush was over. The applause had ended. But something still lingered in the air—not heavy, not loud. Just present. Steady. Like the residual warmth of a spotlight that hadn’t fully gone out.
It wasn’t celebration anymore.
It was the quiet after.
And they were both still in it.
The hours after the show passed like a dream.
Backstage had become a resting ground. The high-strung buzz of performance adrenaline had faded into a lazy afterglow—laughter still rang out, but softer now, like the echo of a party winding down. Phones were everywhere, clicking and snapping in bursts as members crowded together for post-show selfies. Some leaned their cheeks together, others hugged from behind, giggling at their tired, makeup-smeared faces on the screens. Even staff got dragged in—photobombed by playful girls in oversized shirts and tripleS hoodies, their voices hoarse but full of joy.
The snack table had been raided by now. Empty wrappers littered the corners of tables, and half-drunk bottles of Gatorade rolled lazily across the floor. A few members lay sprawled on couches, tangled in each other’s limbs like puppies. No one had the energy to pretend anymore. It was raw comfort now—bare faces, messy hair, heavy limbs, hearts still fluttering.
Kotone sat cross-legged on the floor near a couch where SeoYeon had long since fallen asleep, her head drooping forward until someone gently eased her into a blanket. The younger girl’s hoodie sleeves were pulled over her hands, and her damp bangs were still sticking to her forehead. She was scrolling through her camera roll—previewing the blurry concert photos, the silly backstage candids, the wide group shots taken with trembling, sweat-slicked fingers.
Behind her, Nien had just returned from a quick shower in the dressing room showers, her skin still slightly dewy from the heat. She wore a loose dark tee and shorts that sat low on her hips, hair damp and tousled as she ruffled through her duffel. She had a towel tossed over her shoulder, earbuds hanging loosely around her neck, and her voice was low when she mumbled a teasing, “You better be posting that on private stories.”
Kotone glanced back at her, grinning. “Only the good ones.”
“You have good ones of me?”
“I always get good ones of you.”
That earned a side-eye from Nien, but she was smiling now as she came over and plopped down beside Kotone, their knees brushing together. For a while, they passed the phone back and forth, laughing at each other’s facial expressions in the candid shots, teasing over who looked like they were about to collapse in every other photo.
Eventually the rest of the group began to wander off—some to change again, some to get rides home, others ushered gently by managers toward waiting vans. The room slowly thinned out. Lights dimmed little by little. Voices grew quieter.
Nien and Kotone didn’t move.
They stayed like that—close, quiet, shoulders bumping every now and then. Something softer was starting to settle between them, not entirely new, but noticed now. It was in the way Kotone’s fingers lingered on Nien’s wrist when she reached for the phone again. The way Nien’s leg stayed pressed up against hers instead of shifting away. It wasn’t bold. It didn’t need to be.
“You good?” Kotone asked eventually, her voice a little lower.
Nien hummed, looking ahead. “Yeah. Just… that post-concert high.”
Kotone leaned her head back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I hate how good it feels. Makes everything after feel too quiet.”
Nien didn’t respond right away. Her hand reached out instead, fingers brushing lightly against Kotone’s shin, then just resting there. It wasn’t suggestive. Not yet. But it was intentional.
Silence again. Not awkward. Just charged.
It was that kind of silence—the one that hung in the air before something happened. The kind that made skin feel hot even in the AC. The kind that made fingers curl just a little tighter around the fabric beneath them.
“Is it weird,” Kotone said quietly, barely above a whisper, “that I still feel like I’m moving?”
Nien turned to look at her, eyes hooded. “No.”
Kotone’s eyes fluttered open again, meeting hers. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to.
Movement came naturally—Kotone shifting slightly closer, one of Nien’s legs sliding between hers. The warmth between their bodies was immediate, not shocking but steady. Their thighs brushed. Then pressed. Neither pulled away.
They stayed like that.
Quiet.
Warm.
Too close to call it casual anymore.
And neither one looked away.
The air in the room had changed, soft and slow like steam rising after a storm. The fluorescent ceiling lights above had been dimmed to their lowest setting by now, casting the backstage lounge in a low, muted glow that caught against the damp sheen of their skin and the scattered glitter that still clung faintly to their clothes.
Most of the girls were gone now. A few voices echoed down the hall—managers wrapping up, distant chatter from those still packing up—but in this pocket of space, it felt like time had thinned. Like the afterglow of a concert had pulled the two of them aside and said, here. stay.
Nien’s thumb slowly grazed the side of Kotone’s leg, following the line where her sweatpants creased at the thigh. She didn’t seem to realize she was doing it at first—like it was second nature. But Kotone noticed. She always noticed. Her breath caught for just a second, her eyes glancing down at where they touched.
Her own fingers slid across the carpet a little, then up to rest against Nien’s knee. That was all. But that was enough.
Neither of them said a word. They didn’t need to. Their bodies were starting to speak in the gaps between sentences, in the way they breathed near each other, in the heavy silence that no longer felt still—it felt expectant.
Kotone shifted slightly again. Just a bit closer. Her thigh now rested snugly against Nien’s. The fabric of their pants—cotton over cotton—created a subtle friction when they moved, almost undetectable. Almost.
Nien let out a slow exhale, eyes flicking downward briefly before meeting Kotone’s again. There was no teasing smile now. Just a quiet look—like a question she wasn’t sure how to ask, and maybe didn’t need to.
“...Still moving?” Nien asked.
Kotone’s gaze dipped for a moment. She wet her lips. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Still.”
And this time, when her leg pressed forward—slowly, gently—it wasn’t an accident. She rolled her hips just enough that the front of her pants brushed against Nien’s. Soft, cautious pressure. Barely more than a graze.
But it was intentional.
Nien’s breath hitched. Her eyes flickered closed for half a second, as if bracing for something. When she opened them again, her body had already moved on instinct—mirroring Kotone, returning that pressure. Just enough to acknowledge it. Just enough to say I feel it too.
The tension was no longer invisible. It lived between them now. Real. Warm. Slow and heavy like molasses sliding down the back of the tongue. They could feel the heat building where their hips met, just a whisper of friction, just enough to make them shift again. And again.
Neither of them rushed. Neither of them needed to. The rhythm was unspoken. Bodies leaning in just enough. Breaths falling out of sync.
Every small roll of their hips brought that friction again—cotton brushing cotton, the heat trapped between layers of fabric growing with each press, each grind. It was slow, lazy, like they were trying to convince themselves it didn’t mean anything. But their bodies knew better.
And even in this silence—even in this calm—they were both starting to want more.
The night was no longer quiet. It was humming.
Nien’s breath faltered again as Kotone shifted closer, and this time neither of them pretended it was subtle. Their hips brushed once more, and then—slowly, tentatively—ground into each other just a little firmer, the contact making Nien’s thighs twitch ever so slightly. Her lips parted, a low sigh escaping, barely audible.
She tilted her head, brushing her forehead against Kotone’s temple.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she whispered, voice low and rough at the edges.
Kotone didn’t deny it. Her breath came out hotter this time, lips curled into a small smirk, but her eyes were wide—glassy with something deeper than amusement.
“So what if I am?” she murmured. “You’re the one pressing back.”
Nien laughed softly, under her breath, almost a scoff. “God… You feel that?”
Kotone rolled her hips again, a little slower now, and they both felt the firm bulge in each other’s sweatpants grind together—warm, thick, trapped under too many layers, but so undeniably there. The friction was maddening. The fabric caught and rubbed just enough to make them aware of every pulse, every swell.
“I’ve been feeling it,” Kotone whispered, her voice slipping lower, darker. “Since you came out of the shower.”
Nien cursed under her breath, hand gripping Kotone’s thigh tightly now as their cocks throbbed against each other through the thin barrier of their clothes. She tilted her head back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, jaw clenched.
“I can’t even think right now,” she admitted, voice shaky.
Kotone’s hand slid up, fingers grazing Nien’s side before settling at her waist. Their hips moved again—this time in perfect sync, slow, rhythmic. Their shafts rubbed through layers of soft fabric, pushing and twitching as they thickened fully, the friction sending waves of heat crawling up their spines.
“You don’t have to think,” Kotone whispered. “Just feel me.”
Nien groaned, hips jerking forward again.
“I am, fuck. You’re so hard—Jesus, Kotone…”
She wasn’t wrong. The size and weight of their cocks grinding into each other was impossible to ignore now. Thick and pulsing, pressed against the front of their sweats, pushing forward like they were begging to be freed. But still they kept it slow—still clothed, still straddling that line between teasing and surrender.
Kotone’s forehead touched hers now, their breaths hot and tangled between their mouths.
“This is so fucking good,” she murmured. “I can’t stop…”
“Don’t,” Nien breathed. “Don’t stop. Not yet.”
They rocked again. And again. Moans caught in their throats. The weight of their clothed lengths dragged against each other, soft and heated, building that pressure between their cores that made both girls dizzy.
The air smelled faintly of sweat, clean soap, and rising tension.
And they were far, far past the point of pretending this was innocent.
Kotone’s breath came out shakier this time, lips parted in a soft, desperate sigh as she pressed herself forward again, the thick bulge in her sweatpants grinding slow and steady against Nien’s matching one. Their girths pushed into each other with each subtle roll of the hips, clothed shafts straining through the soft cotton and growing stiffer by the second.
Nien’s hand slid up Kotone’s side, gripping her hoodie at the waist, tugging just slightly as she leaned in, her voice curling into her ear in a teasing whisper.
“Mm~ you sure you wanna keep goin’ like this, baby?” she purred, her words laced with heat. “We’re still kinda… exposed.”
Kotone giggled under her breath, biting back a moan as their cocks rubbed again, firmer now. “You say that like you want me to stop~” she whispered, nuzzling against the side of Nien’s face. “But I can feel how badly your dick’s twitchin’ for me right now~”
Nien scoffed softly, chuckling through clenched teeth, her voice dropping even lower.
“I’m just sayin’... if anyone walks in and sees your pretty little bulge grinding against mine like this~ someone’s gonna have a fuckin’ meltdown.”
“Mmm, maybe they should look away then~” Kotone replied with a smirk, reaching behind her to check over her shoulder. She tilted her head just slightly, eyes darting to the hallway—empty. The door to the rest of the backstage lounge had closed, most of the lights dimmed. A few bags and hoodies still lay around, but no movement. No voices. It was just them now. Hidden in that pocket of time no one else was looking at.
“We’re good~” she whispered back, eyes gleaming. “Just us now, baby…”
Nien licked her lips slowly, feeling the pressure of Kotone’s cock pulsing against hers, that delicious drag of their heavy lengths straining through layers of sweats—hot, thick, and needy.
“You’re such a tease,” she murmured, bucking forward just enough to make Kotone gasp. “You really wanna hump each other like this until one of us makes a mess?”
Kotone let out a soft, breathy moan, her hands finding Nien’s waist again as she rolled into her, their thick girlcocks grinding head-to-head, warm and lewd beneath the clothes that separated them.
“Maybe~” she giggled, breath catching. “Maybe I wanna feel you throb against me a little more first… see who’s the first one to start leaking~”
Nien groaned at that, her eyes fluttering shut for a second as her cock twitched hard against Kotone’s. The heat between them was unbearable now—an inferno of tension and friction that made their bodies ache.
“Shit… keep goin’ like that, and I might cum without even takin’ these off…” she muttered, fingers digging into Kotone’s waist. “Hope you’re ready to get messy, babe~”
Kotone grinned, rolling into her again.
“Oh, I want messy~” she whispered. “Soak me up, Niennie~ I know you wanna.”
Their hips bucked again—grinding, pressing, clothed shafts stiff and throbbing, teasing the edge of control with every pass.
And it was only just getting started.
Their foreheads were nearly touching now, breaths mixing, panting softly against each other’s lips with every slow, grinding roll of their hips. The weight of their swollen cocks rubbing together through layers of fabric had them twitching, leaking, and clinging to the edge—but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
Kotone’s hands slid between them, fumbling just a little with the drawstring on Nien’s sweats before dipping down, her fingertips tracing the thick outline beneath. She bit her lip as she spoke, her voice teasing but breathless.
“Mm~ I’ve had enough of feeling you through this cloth, babe…”
Nien didn’t stop her. She didn’t want to stop her.
Kotone pulled gently at Nien’s waistband, easing it down just far enough to let her cock spring free—thick, flushed, and glistening at the tip with the precum that had been building for minutes now. It slapped upward, heavy and pulsing, twitching once in the open air.
“Oh fuck…” Kotone whispered, her hand frozen for a moment, eyes dragging over the size, the shape, the way it curved upward so perfectly. She exhaled a breathy giggle. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Niennie~ you really gonna keep this all to yourself?”
Nien smirked, her voice low and rough with lust. “That’s funny, comin’ from someone who’s still got hers tucked away…”
She reached down in return, tugging at Kotone’s sweats and sliding them down, slowly, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her boxers next. As the fabric slid past her thighs, Kotone’s cock popped free—just as fat, just as flushed, slick already from the teasing. It pulsed visibly in the cool air, bobbing slightly before settling up against Nien’s once again, this time bare.
They both gasped, their heads pressing together, eyes locked in stunned silence.
The feeling of skin-on-skin now—two warm, throbbing shafts pressed flush—sent electricity rushing through them.
“Holy shit,” Nien whispered, biting her lip hard as her cock jumped against Kotone’s. “You’re fuckin’ perfect…”
Kotone whimpered softly, her hand wrapping around both of them as she gave a lazy, slow stroke, dragging their dicks together from base to tip.
“You too, baby~ you’re fuckin’ hot in this jersey too, you know that?”
Nien chuckled lowly, licking her lips as she rocked into the stroke.
“Yeah? Thought I looked cute when I saw myself in the mirror backstage…” Her hand came up to tug at Kotone’s collar gently. “But you? In yours? You look like someone I’d let ruin me~”
Kotone grinned, breath shaky as her strokes quickened just slightly, precum beginning to slick their shafts together with each press and drag.
“Guess we’re both about to get a little ruined then~” she whispered, eyes wild with heat now. “C’mon, Niennie… rub it out with me…”
Their hips pressed forward again, and now there was nothing left between them—just raw heat, slick skin, and two thick girlcocks grinding, frotting together slowly but with growing hunger. The sound of skin slipping and sliding filled the air, wet and obscene, their jerseys rustling faintly against each other’s bodies.
And neither of them could hold back much longer.
Their bodies were slick with sweat now—warm, flushed, jerseys clinging slightly to their backs as they rocked into each other, grinding thick, bare shafts together with a heat that had long since burned away the last bit of hesitation.
Nien’s hand gripped Kotone’s waist tighter, knuckles white, her breathing ragged as she pushed forward again, their cocks dragging side-by-side, heavy and pulsing. The motion sent a slow, delicious wave of friction between them, both their lengths glistening with so much precum it was practically pooling between their stomachs.
“Fuck—” Nien groaned, her voice cracked and low. “You’re so fuckin’ wet…”
Kotone moaned softly in response, eyes fluttering shut for a second before opening wide again, a grin tugging at her lips despite how dazed she looked.
“It’s you, babe~” she whispered, her hips rolling again, dragging her shaft up the full underside of Nien’s. “You’re the one makin’ me leak like this…”
They both looked down for a second—both of their cocks twitching against each other, fully soaked now in thick, clear precum that slicked their skin from base to tip. The smell of sex was sharp in the air—salty, sweet, heated—and their skin was practically glowing beneath the dim lights. The wet friction between them had turned smoother, easier, their shafts sliding effortlessly now, lubed naturally by the mess they’d already made.
Nien groaned, her eyes locked on the spot where they rubbed, watching the way their swollen heads bumped and kissed on every drag forward.
“Jesus… it’s so slippery now…”
“Mmm~ I know,” Kotone whispered, rutting forward faster, her strokes getting sloppier. “I can feel every inch of you…”
The glide was obscene—thick cocks grinding, slipping against each other as they humped slowly, then faster, their precum lathered between them, coating their bellies and the insides of their jerseys. The wet, sticky noise it made each time they rolled into each other made both girls moan louder, their chests rising and falling in near-perfect sync now.
Nien licked her lips, eyes dark and locked on Kotone’s flushed face.
“We’re gonna make a fuckin’ mess…”
Kotone giggled breathlessly, her thighs twitching as her cock throbbed hard against Nien’s again.
“Then let’s make it big, baby~” she murmured, hand sliding between them again to squeeze their lengths together tightly, the tips drooling steadily as they rutted faster, slicker, harder.
The lube of their own making—the thick coating of precum—only made it easier. Every thrust slid smooth, every twitch sparked hotter. Their bodies were in motion now, shameless and greedy, chasing that heat together.
And it was getting dangerously close.
Kotone’s hips jerked forward again, their cocks now completely coated in a thick sheen of precum, gliding effortlessly as their bellies and shafts met in wet, obscene rhythm. The friction was overwhelming, their breath tangled and broken, the heat between them unbearable—but just as Nien was grinding in harder, her shaft twitching visibly—
Kotone let out a shaky laugh and suddenly stopped, her palm pressing lightly against Nien’s hip.
“Wait… wait, wait~” she panted, giggling through her moans.
Nien blinked, breath still shallow. “Huh? What?”
Kotone bit her lip, still catching her breath as she leaned in close, practically whispering.
“I brought my Fleshlight,” she said, voice sticky with heat. “Like… to the venue.”
Nien stared at her for a second, then burst into laughter, her cock still twitching against Kotone’s. “You what? You brought your fucking Fleshlight to the fan concert?”
Kotone shrugged playfully, cheeks flushed, eyes glinting with mischief.
“I didn’t know I was gonna need it here~” she teased, her voice lilting. “But now I’m kinda thinkin’ we could use a little help… this friction’s already gettin’ insane.”
Nien groaned and rolled her eyes, still breathless but laughing as she rubbed her hand over her own slick stomach.
“You’re actually ridiculous,” she muttered, grinning. “C’mon then, let’s go get your fuckin’ backup plan.”
Kotone stood up first, her cock bobbing thick and wet between her thighs, still twitching from how close she was. Nien followed, her own length swinging slightly as they both pulled down their jerseys a bit to cover up the mess they’d already made—just in case someone popped their head in.
The two snuck out quietly into the deeper dressing area, Kotone dragging Nien by the wrist, both of them snorting and shushing each other like guilty teenagers. They made their way toward Kotone’s bag tucked in the corner of her cubby, Kotone crouching down to unzip it, digging under her change of clothes and some balled-up socks before she proudly pulled it out.
There it was. A discreet black case, and inside, soft and inviting—the textured sleeve of her Fleshlight.
“Told you~” she sang softly, holding it up like it was a trophy.
Nien shook her head in disbelief, still laughing as her hand rubbed over her cock again, leaking more just at the sight of it.
“God, we’re such pervs,” she murmured, voice tight.
Kotone tossed her a bottle next. “And I brought lube. Good stuff.”
Nien caught it—reading the label: ID Glide. Water-based. Safe for toys.
Kotone grinned again. “I got FleshLube and Sliquid H2O too back home, but I didn’t wanna overpack~ can’t use oil-based stuff on these or it’ll mess the sleeve up. You gotta use quality, y’know?”
Nien nodded, impressed and amused all at once. “You’re prepared like it’s a damn survival mission.”
Kotone shrugged, licking her lips.
“Call it instinct~ now come on,” she whispered, eyes darkening again, “let’s fuck this thing together.”
And just like that, the two walked back to the couch—toy and lube in hand, cocks thick and slick, ready to share the heat in a whole new way.
They stumbled back into the lounge area like it was their own private den—dim lights, barely a whisper beyond the walls, and the scent of sex still lingering faint in the air from earlier. The Fleshlight sat in Kotone’s hand like a shared secret, warm now from the heat of her palm. The soft, glistening entrance peeked out from the case, and Nien’s cock twitched at just the sight of it.
They dropped down onto the couch again—sweaty, flushed, and still leaking.
Kotone uncapped the lube and squeezed a generous line into the toy, the slick sound making Nien shiver beside her. The lube oozed down the sleeve’s inner ridges, clear and glistening, coating every tight groove with shine. Then she pumped a little into her own palm and offered the bottle to Nien with a smirk.
“You wanna go first, or should I lube you up~?” she asked, already stroking her own cock slowly with the product, the sound wet and eager.
Nien raised an eyebrow as she took the bottle, smirking back. “Gimme that, I’m not lettin’ you have all the fun.”
She slicked her hand and wrapped it around her shaft, shuddering as she pumped once—twice. The mix of her precum and the water-based lube made it a perfect glide, so smooth she almost buckled from the sensation.
“Shit, that feels good…”
Kotone let out a hot little laugh as she brought the toy up, lining it against Nien’s length.
“I bet this’ll feel better~”
She held it steady, one hand on the base, the other bracing herself beside Nien’s thigh. Slowly, she pressed forward, letting Nien guide her cock into the Fleshlight’s soft, wet sleeve. It took him in inch by inch, the lube making every ridge slide perfectly around him, tight and warm.
Nien’s head dropped back immediately.
“Fuck…” he groaned, hips already twitching upward.
Kotone licked her lips, eyes locked on the way the toy stretched around him, her own cock throbbing visibly from watching him disappear into it.
“You like that, huh~?” she whispered, stroking the base of the sleeve as she started to move it.
“God, yes,” Nien hissed, grabbing the arm of the couch for support. “It’s like—shit—it’s suckin’ me in…”
Kotone grinned, flushed deep now, every part of her aching with heat as she moved the toy faster, watching the slick sheen gather around the base with every thrust. Her own cock was leaking like a faucet, untouched and angry for attention, slapping against her thigh each time she rocked forward slightly from the movement.
“Wanna share it?” Nien asked between moans, barely able to keep her eyes open. “I want us both in it…”
Kotone shuddered at the thought, nodding eagerly.
“Y-Yeah… let’s both fuck it—god, Niennie, I’m gonna go crazy…”
She didn’t wait. She let Nien pull back, their cocks now side-by-side again, glistening and swollen. Together, they angled themselves—pressing the heads of their dicks against the wet, tight opening of the Fleshlight, both groaning in unison as the tip of each shaft slipped inside.
Slowly, carefully, they pushed together. The toy stretched, enveloping both thick cocks at once—barely accommodating the width, but just enough for the heat and tightness to send a shock through both of them.
“Oh my fucking god…” Kotone whimpered, hips rocking instinctively. “It’s so tight—fuck, Nien—”
They both started to move, rutting into it in sync, side by side, the toy squelching wetly with each thrust. Their cocks rubbed together inside, sticky with lube and precum, the sleeve sucking them down as they fucked into it harder and harder.
It wasn’t gentle anymore. It wasn’t careful. They were moaning now, loud and breathless, as the toy gripped them both and the lube sloshed between their bodies, every thrust sending another thick slap of wet heat through them.
And they were close—so close.
Their hips moved in tandem now, cocks squeezed tight together inside the slick, wet sleeve, each thrust building on the one before it. The Fleshlight strained to take both of them, but the stretch only made it better—hotter, tighter, filthier. The lube mixed with their precum into a slick mess, coating the inside and leaking from the base in messy, dripping strands.
Nien’s breath came out ragged, her body trembling as she gripped Kotone’s thigh for support.
“Shit, Tone… this thing’s so fucking tight,” she moaned, her voice cracking as she thrust forward again, her fat cock sliding side-by-side with Kotone’s in the shared hole.
Kotone whined in agreement, her face flushed, her mouth falling open as her hips rolled forward to meet Nien’s.
“I—I can feel you rubbin’ against me inside it,” she gasped. “Every fuckin’ vein, babe… it’s makin’ me crazy…”
The sensation was overwhelming—both of their girlcocks were fully hard, pressed against each other in the toy’s narrow channel, trapped in that delicious heat and friction. Every time they fucked forward, the textured sleeve milked them together, squeezing their swollen shafts and grinding them into one another. It was raw, messy, and so intensely wet—the sound alone made their knees weak.
“God, we’re really doin’ this, huh~?” Kotone giggled breathlessly, eyes rolling back slightly as the toy squelched again. “Two girls… one toy… fuckin’ each other side-by-side like we’re about to breed it…”
Nien groaned loudly at that, her hips stuttering forward with a harsh thrust that made both of them gasp.
“Tone—don’t say shit like that,” she panted, her face contorted in lust. “You’re gonna make me cum early…”
Kotone moaned, her hand wrapping around the toy’s base as she started fucking faster.
“Then cum with me, Niennie~” she whispered, voice shaking. “I wanna feel you throbbin’ on my cock inside this thing—fuck—I want us to mess it up…”
Their thighs slapped together now, the toy clenching around them, drenched in lube and their leaking precum. The sleeve was slick beyond belief, squishing with every thrust, warm like a soaked mouth, textured like heaven, and stretched tight around both their cocks like it had been made for them to share.
“Tone—fuck—fuck,” Nien whimpered, her hand gripping the back of Kotone’s jersey as she rutted into the toy faster. “I can’t—shit—I’m gonna blow—”
Kotone’s voice was barely a whisper now, her whole body trembling as her abs tightened.
“Me too… Niennie, cum with me, please—fill it up, baby, I need it, need you…”
And then, with one last deep, wet thrust—both girls slammed forward at once.
Their moans hit the ceiling. Their cocks twitched violently, mashed together in the soaked Fleshlight, and then they came—hard. Jet after jet of hot cum blasted into the toy, flooding the sleeve as both of them bucked uncontrollably, still grinding against each other, their sticky release mixing together until it spilled out from the base, oozing down their thighs and staining the couch below.
“Fuuuuuuck…” Nien moaned, body slumping forward, chest rising and falling in shudders.
Kotone whimpered beside her, still clenching the toy between them, her face dazed and glowing.
“I… I think we broke it,” she giggled, barely able to speak.
They pulled back slowly, their softening cocks sliding free with a sticky sound, the toy dripping thick white cream from both ends. It was a mess. A hot, sloppy, ruined mess.
And they couldn’t stop smiling.
Their bodies trembled in the warm afterglow, skin slick and flushed, both of them leaning against the couch like it was the only thing keeping them upright. The Fleshlight lay discarded between them now, leaking their shared load onto the couch cushion below, strings of thick, creamy cum still clinging to the rim.
Kotone glanced over at Nien, her chest still rising and falling fast, hair stuck to her forehead. Her lips were parted, glistening with sweat and heavy breaths.
Nien looked back at her, dazed but smirking.
“…A kiss won’t hurt,” she whispered.
Kotone didn’t even hesitate.
She leaned in, their foreheads brushing first, breath still shaky between them—and then their lips met. Warm, soft, slow. No urgency. Just the kind of kiss that sealed everything unspoken, everything messy and stupid and perfect about what they’d just done.
Nien cupped her cheek gently, stroking the soft curve of her jaw with her thumb. Kotone moaned softly into her mouth, pressing closer, and for a few seconds they stayed like that—sharing the silence through the press of their lips, bodies warm and exhausted.
When they pulled apart, Nien exhaled a laugh and glanced down at herself, still holding her now-soft cock lazily in one hand. She gave it a few more slow strokes, coaxing out the last lazy globs of cum from the tip, which dribbled down her knuckles.
“Jesus, Tone,” she muttered. “We really filled that fucker up…”
Kotone mirrored her, stroking her softening shaft with a groan, squeezing out the last few spurts. “It was your fault~” she said, smirking. “You grind like a fuckin’ pornstar…”
“You were matching me stroke for stroke, don’t even start,” Nien snorted, rolling her eyes.
They both looked down at the toy, now completely ruined—drenched, dripping, still twitching with the echo of what they’d done. Then their eyes shifted to the couch… and the floor… and their thighs… all decorated in cum.
Kotone whined. “We’re gonna get roasted for this…”
“No one’s gonna know,” Nien said quickly, then grimaced. “Unless we leave it like this.”
The girls scrambled up, dicks swinging slightly as they grabbed whatever they could find nearby. Nien reached for a stack of unused paper towels from a makeup station, tossing a wad to Kotone.
“Here—get your stomach first,” she said. “You’re dripping, babe…”
Kotone muttered under her breath in embarrassment, wiping herself off quickly with a few hisses and little laughs. “You too, mess machine. It’s on your knee somehow, like how—”
“Don’t ask,” Nien groaned, laughing as she cleaned herself up as fast as she could, both of them moving in uncoordinated half-panicked motions, still giggling and swearing softly as they patted dry thighs, hips, even the couch cushions.
Once most of the evidence was gone, they both reached for their boxers. Nien pulled hers up first, tucking herself away with a quiet sigh. Kotone followed, slipping on her underwear and then her sweatpants, the waistband pressing snugly against her now-clean skin.
They exchanged a look as they both sat back down, now dressed again, the ruined toy hidden under a hoodie for now.
“…Okay,” Kotone said, breath finally steady. “That was the dirtiest, hottest, dumbest thing we’ve ever done.”
Nien grinned.
“Yeah,” she said. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
The air in the lounge had settled into something quieter now—heavier, warmer, still laced with the lingering scent of sex despite their best efforts to scrub it from every surface. Nien tugged her oversized shirt down a little lower over her hips, giving one final look to the couch cushion they'd just wiped down with what felt like half a roll of paper towels. Her face scrunched.
“…Still looks a little suspicious.”
Kotone stepped back from the low table she’d wiped down earlier, arms crossed, eyeing the room like a detective at a crime scene.
“Think we sprayed enough cologne?” she asked flatly.
Nien tossed her a look and shook the half-empty travel-sized bottle in her hand. “If anyone walks in here and doesn’t immediately wonder what we were covering up, I’ll be shocked.”
Kotone snorted under her breath, kicking her sweats out of the way before scooping up her extra change of clothes. “Whatever. We pulled it off.”
Nien raised an eyebrow.
Kotone shrugged. “Mostly.”
They both cracked tired, breathy laughs then, their bodies finally starting to feel the post-show crash. No more lights. No more music. Just the quiet hum of vending machines down the hallway and the occasional shuffle of someone far off changing into their own comfies.
“I'm gonna change,” Nien muttered, grabbing her bag from the side.
Kotone nodded. “Me too. My jersey’s stickin’ to me in places I’m not even tryna talk about.”
A few minutes later, the two of them emerged from their respective corners of the dressing room—Nien in a pair of grey joggers and a loose black long sleeve, hair tied back messily. Kotone had changed into a hoodie that practically swallowed her frame and a pair of black biker shorts, her clean skin glowing slightly from a quick wipe-down and a fresh spritz of facial mist she borrowed off someone’s table.
The vibe between them had cooled—but not in a bad way. Just something easier now. Softer. Like they’d both burned out every ounce of tension and now there was nothing left but a quiet hum and the unspoken closeness that lingered even without words.
Kotone peeked at the clock. “Is it past van call?”
Nien glanced at her phone. “It was past van call like… fifteen minutes ago.”
Kotone blinked. “…Shit.”
They exchanged a silent look before grabbing their stuff in a rush and heading for the hallway.
At the end of the corridor, a few members sat cross-legged against the wall, clearly waiting. SeoYeon looked half-asleep with a jacket over her legs. JiWoo was scrolling through her phone, earbuds in. DaHyun looked up the second she heard footsteps and narrowed her eyes in playful suspicion.
“There they are,” she said, standing up. “Took y’all long enough.”
Kotone scratched at her cheek, avoiding eye contact as she clutched her hoodie closer. “We were just changing.”
“Uh-huh,” JiWoo replied without looking up. “You smell like something.”
Nien stepped forward, brushing her shoulder against Kotone’s with a pointed glance. “We spilled a smoothie.”
The girls snorted, clearly not buying it, but too tired to press. SeoYeon groaned softly and stood up with a stretch.
“Whatever, let’s go. My legs feel like noodles.”
As they all headed toward the exit together, quiet and slightly delirious from exhaustion, Nien and Kotone stayed near the back of the group. Their hands didn’t touch, but their steps matched. Their shoulders moved in rhythm. And even without another word, the heat between them had settled into something real, something grounding.
Not loud.
Not needy.
Just there.
And neither of them minded it one bit.
