SECRETS: Long form plot-driven stories with drama, angst, fluff, and a deep emphasis on romance with smut on the side as a plus.
I've Got A Secret (Wonyoung x Male OC ft. Yujin)
Eleven
Love Dive
After Like
Kitsch
I AM
WAVE
I WANT
Either Way
Off The Record
Baddie
All Night
HEYA
Accendio
CRUSH
Supernova Love
Rebel Heart
Attitude
Be Alright
TKO (Bonus)
XOXZ (Bonus)
<8> (Bonus)
BANG BANG (Bonus)
My Sone Secret (Jessica x Male OC ft. Irene)
Sometimes love comes when you least expect it—especially for John, who never asked to cross paths with the girl of his dreams, Jessica. But what happens when your stars align with an idol's? Can John, possibly the world's most ordinary guy, even dream to have a happily ever after with an international celebrity or will he end up in a living nightmare?
Close Encounters
(ongoing, 63 chapters on AFF)
My Secret from the Stars (Yuna x Male OC)
Ever since he was young, Kim Yunho's grandma had always told him that angels roam the earth amongst us, but her fairytales quickly become reality when he meets Yuna—a pretty, kind, hard-working resident doctor who magically saves the life of a dying woman before his very eyes. Now, Yunho must juggle two secrets:the inevitable existence of angels and his growing, undying, forbidden love for a breathtakingly beautiful girl who came from the stars.
Untitled (not started)
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STARS: Short form, fun stories with light-hearted plots and a larger emphasis on smut.
The Chairman's Daughter (Winter x Male Reader)
You're an overworked, underpaid, unappreciated intern at Aespa Group, one of Seoul's top women's fashion companies. On the busiest time of the year, you learn from your fellow intern Ningning that the Chairman's daughter, Winter, is returning from her overseas studies, and she's ready to making your life exponentially harder than it already is.
Winter Is Coming
Her Cousin Karina
Naughty List Ningning
Wish Upon a Star (Karina x Male Reader)
You pride yourself in being the #1 aespa fanboy, even going as far as buying a first edition photocard from a shady reseller for $400—but you never expected it would accidentally summon Karina—a magical genie who doubles as your favorite K-pop idol—now cursed to grant you, her new master, three whole wishes.
Angel of Desire (new)
Angel of Persuasion (not started)
Lucky Stars (Various idols x Male OC)
Although Daniel always knew that he was lucky, he never imagined that studying abroad in Korea meant that he could get with every idol he ever wanted. But just how far can he go before his luck runs out?
Feel Special (ft. Sana)
Playing With Fire (ft. Jennie)
Bad Boy (ft. Joy)
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SEASONS: Non-smut, SFW fluffy romance or other genres.
A Midsummer Night's Dream (Irene x Male OC)
A short-story about meeting the right person at the wrong time; John and Irene are two university students who unexpectedly meet each other during summer break. Although their time together is short-lived, its effect on their lives is everlasting.
Follow the Wind
The Seasons in Her Eyes (Anna x Male OC)
Takeshi tells the short story of how he met his first love, Anna, on the last day of summer—just before she moves to Seoul. He continues to live his mundane life back in Tokyo, but no matter how many times the seasons change, his heart still yearns for her.
okay so something happened tonight and i need to write it down because my hands are still shaking and i can't tell anyone. literally anyone. not my members, not my friends, not my family. nobody. so i'm telling this note. this stupid little note in a folder called "random thoughts" that nobody is ever going to open because why would they, it's boring, it's nothing, just yujin's random thoughts, move along, nothing to see.
except there's something to see. there's a lot to see. and i think something might be wrong with me.
i was on tumblr. just scrolling. 1am. couldn't sleep because my back was killing me from rehearsal and i was just lying in bed doing nothing, scrolling through fan edits and memes and the usual stuff. and then i saw it.
a fic. a fanfic. about me and wonyoung.
the title was something like "practice room confessions" or "after practice" or something, i don't remember exactly because my brain has sort of melted since then. it was tagged as yujin x wonyoung. i almost scrolled past it. i SHOULD have scrolled past it. but i was curious because like... people write about us? like THAT? i knew they did, i'm not naive, but i'd never actually read one before.
so i clicked it.
it started cute. like really cute. the fic version of me was staying late at the practice room and fic-wonyoung came back because she forgot her water bottle and we were alone and we started talking and it turned into this whole thing where we were sitting on the floor sharing earbuds and listening to music and our shoulders were touching and it was just... soft. warm. the kind of scene that makes you smile at your phone. i was reading it thinking "this is sweet, these fans are creative, okay this is fine."
then chapter three happened.
the writer — whoever they are, wherever they are, i need them to know that they ruined my life — the writer started building tension. slowly. like they knew exactly what they were doing. fic-wonyoung leaned her head on fic-me's shoulder. then fic-me turned her head and their faces were close. then someone's breath was on someone's lips. and i was reading faster and faster and my heart was doing something it shouldn't have been doing because this is FICTION about me and my GROUPMATE and i should have closed the app.
i didn't close the app.
chapter four: they kissed. the writer described it in detail — the softness of wonyoung's lips, the way fic-me's hand went to fic-wonyoung's jaw, the small sound wonyoung made, the taste of her lip gloss. strawberry. the writer said strawberry. and i read that and my brain immediately supplied the information that wonyoung actually DOES use a strawberry lip gloss, the laneige one, i've seen it on her vanity a hundred times, and the collision between fiction and reality made my stomach drop in a way i cannot describe.
chapter five.
okay.
chapter five is where i should have stopped and chapter five is where i lost myself completely.
the practice room. late at night. just them. fic-me pushed fic-wonyoung against the mirror. the big floor-to-ceiling mirror that we actually have in our actual practice room. and fic-me kissed her neck and fic-wonyoung tilted her head back and her reflection was in the mirror — the writer described seeing her reflection while being kissed, her eyes closed, her mouth open — and then fic-me's hand went under fic-wonyoung's practice top and
i'm going to write what happened next in the fic because i need to get it out of my head.
fic-me touched fic-wonyoung's chest. over the sports bra first, then under it. the writer described the way wonyoung's nipples hardened under fic-me's fingers and the small gasp she made and how fic-me said "is this okay?" and fic-wonyoung said "don't stop" and then fic-me pulled the sports bra up and put her mouth on wonyoung's breast and sucked gently and wonyoung's hands went into fic-me's hair and she arched against the mirror and–
i was wet. i was actually physically wet reading this. lying in my bed in the dorm with wonyoung sleeping in the room next to mine, actually sleeping, actually RIGHT THERE through one wall, and i was soaking through my underwear reading about a fictional version of myself touching a fictional version of her and my body didn't care that it was fiction. my body responded like it was a memory.
i kept reading.
fic-me went lower. kissed down fic-wonyoung's stomach. knelt on the practice room floor. pulled her shorts down. the writer described the way wonyoung looked down at fic-me from above — tall, taller now with me on my knees — and the way the practice room lights made her skin glow and the way she said "unnie" in a voice that was nothing like how she says it in real life and everything like how i'd imagine she'd say it if
god. if.
fic-me went down on her against the mirror. the writer described it in explicit detail — the taste, the sounds, wonyoung's thigh over fic-me's shoulder, her back sliding down the mirror, the way her legs shook. and i was reading this with one hand because my other hand was between my legs and i didn't even make the decision to put it there. it just happened. like my body read the scene before my brain processed it and decided to act without permission.
i came in maybe three minutes. reading that fic. in my bed. in our dorm. while the real wonyoung was sleeping one wall away. i bit my wrist so hard there's a mark and i came so hard my legs straightened out and my toes curled and my phone almost fell on my face and i lay there afterward staring at the ceiling with my hand still in my underwear and my heart hammering and the fic still open on my screen and i thought:
oh no.
oh no oh no oh no.
this isn't a girl crush. this isn't admiration. this isn't "i think she's really pretty." this is something else. this is the something else that i've been refusing to name for a while now. since we were trainees. since she was the pretty girl who made me nervous for reasons i told myself were just competition nerves.
it wasn't competition.
i read the rest of the fic. all of it. there were nine chapters. by chapter seven fic-wonyoung was riding fic-me's face on the practice room floor and i came again, quieter this time, more controlled, biting the inside of my cheek, my eyes watering, reading about a fictional version of my own groupmate grinding against a fictional version of my own mouth and the specificity of it — the writer knew our dynamic, knew how wonyoung talks, knew the way i look at her on stage — made it feel less like fiction and more like surveillance.
someone out there has been watching us closely enough to write this. and they were RIGHT. about everything they saw between us. the difference is they think it's fiction. i know it's real.
i finished the fic. i closed tumblr. i opened this note. my hands are shaking. i have a schedule with wonyoung at 7am. hair and makeup at 6. that's three hours from now. in three hours i have to sit next to her while a stylist does her hair and look at her face and smile and be yujin-unnie, the dependable leader, the girl who has her shit together.
i have never had my shit less together than i do right now.
i should delete this. i should delete tumblr. i should delete whatever part of my brain responded to that fic the way it did.
i know i'm going to read it again tomorrow.
[October 21, 2022 — 03:30 AM]
i've read it four more times. i've also read eleven other fics. ao3 has an entire tag for us. an ENTIRE TAG. hundreds of fics. some of them are bad and i scroll past. some of them are good and i save the link in a folder on my phone that's disguised as a playlist. some of them are so explicit i can't even read them in one sitting because my body reacts so fast i have to stop and deal with it before i can continue.
"deal with it." that's what i'm calling it now. like it's an administrative task. yujin's nightly schedule: remove makeup, do skincare, check group chat, deal with it, sleep.
i've started noticing patterns in what gets me off the hardest. i want to document this because maybe if i understand the pattern i can make it stop. (that's a lie. i don't want it to stop. i want it to stop being about her specifically so i can keep doing it without the guilt.)
the fics that work best are the ones where i'm dominant. where fic-me is the one in control. where wonyoung is the one being touched, being directed, being taken apart. i think this connects to the leader thing. i spend all day making decisions for other people and apparently my brain has decided that the bedroom (even the fictional bedroom) should be the same.
the fics where i'm submissive don't work as well. which is interesting because in real life i'd probably be... actually i don't know what i'd be in real life because i've never done anything in real life. i've never kissed anyone. not really. not like it counted. i'm twenty years old and the leader of one of the biggest girl groups in korea and i've never been kissed.
i've been eaten out by jang wonyoung in eleven different fictional universes but i've never been kissed in the real one. that's so fucking funny i could cry.
last night i found a fic that almost made me pass out. the premise was that wonyoung and i were sharing a hotel room on tour and she walked out of the shower in just a towel and i couldn't stop staring and she noticed and instead of being weird about it she dropped the towel and said "you can look, unnie."
"you can look, unnie."
four words. fictional. written by a stranger. and i came so hard i had to shove my face into my pillow to muffle the sound because i could hear someone moving around in the kitchen and if anyone walked past my door i would literally have to leave the country.
i think about those four words constantly now. when wonyoung walks past me. when she changes her shirt in the dressing room. when she stretches during practice and her top rides up and i can see the strip of skin above her waistband. i hear "you can look, unnie" in my head like a loop and my body responds every single time. pavlovian. i've been pavlov'd by fan fiction. this is rock bottom.
except i don't think it's rock bottom because i keep finding new rooms below this one.
[March 8, 2023 — 01:15 AM]
i wrote something.
not reading this time. writing. my own. i wrote my own fic.
i didn't plan to. i was lying in bed trying to sleep and the scenario was playing in my head — a new one, not from any fic i'd read, something my own brain generated — and it was so vivid and so detailed and so HOT that i was scared i'd forget it by morning so i opened this note and started typing.
i'm going to write it here because this is the only place it can exist. if i wrote it on ao3 or tumblr, even anonymously, the writing style analysis people would find me in a week. those fans are terrifying. so it lives here. in my phone. in a folder called "random thoughts." where nobody will ever see it.
Here's the scenario:
we're in the dressing room. late. after a music show pre-recording. everyone else has left for the van. wonyoung stayed behind to fix her makeup and i stayed behind because i always wait for her. that's what leaders do. that's what i tell myself.
the dressing room has those bright vanity mirrors with the bulb lights. wonyoung is sitting in the chair looking at her reflection, touching up her lipstick. she's still in her stage outfit — the short one, the one that makes her legs look impossible. i'm leaning against the counter behind her, watching her in the mirror.
she catches me watching. in the mirror. our eyes meet in the reflection and she doesn't look away and i don't look away and the room is very quiet except for the hum of the lights.
she says "unnie, can you zip me up? the back came loose during the performance."
in reality this is a normal request. stylists and members zip each other constantly. it's physical and innocent and i've done it hundreds of times without incident.
in the fantasy it's not innocent and we both know it.
i walk over. i stand behind her chair. i can see both of us in the vanity mirror — her sitting, me standing behind her, my hands reaching for the zipper at the small of her back. my fingers touch her bare skin where the zipper has come apart and she inhales. small. Quiet. But i hear it because the room is empty and every sound is amplified.
instead of zipping up, i pull down.
the zipper slides and the outfit opens and i can see the line of her spine and the clasp of her bra and the smooth skin of her lower back and my hands are on her bare shoulders now, not zipping, just resting, my thumbs on the ridges of her shoulder blades. she watches me in the mirror. she doesn't stop me.
i lean down. my mouth next to her ear. i can smell her perfume — the ysl one she's been using this comeback, i know the exact scent because i've smelled it lingering in the dressing room after she's left and i've stood there breathing it in like a psychopath. i whisper: "what if i don't zip it back up?"
she turns her head. our faces are close. closer than they've ever been outside of choreography. she looks at my mouth. she says "then don't" and her voice is low and steady and nothing like the bright wonyoung-ah~ voice she uses on camera and i close the gap.
the kiss is slow at first. i taste the lip tint she just applied. cherry this time, not strawberry. her mouth opens under mine and my tongue touches hers and she makes a sound — soft, surprised, like she didn't expect it to feel like this — and my hand slides the outfit off her shoulders and it pools at her waist and she's in just the bra and i can see us in the vanity mirror and the image is
god. the IMAGE. me behind her. her half-undressed in the chair. the bright vanity lights making everything sharp and visible and there's nowhere to hide in that light. we can see everything. every detail. my hands on her skin. her chest rising and falling faster. the flush spreading down her neck.
i unclasp her bra. she lets me. she watches in the mirror while i slide the straps off her shoulders and the bra falls and her breasts are bare and i cup them from behind and her nipples are hard against my palms and she leans her head back against my stomach and her eyes close and her mouth opens and in the mirror she looks like a painting, like something that should be behind glass and i'm touching it with my bare hands.
i turn the chair so she's facing me. i kneel. the dressing room floor is cold through my tights. i pull her forward to the edge of the chair and her legs open around me and i kiss her stomach, her navel, the line of her hip bone. i pull the stage outfit down past her hips and she lifts up to help me and she's in just her underwear now — the plain ones, not stage underwear, the cotton ones she changes into after performances because stage underwear is uncomfortable — and i can see the wet spot. the dark patch on the light cotton. and i press my thumb against it and she jerks in the chair and her hips push up against my hand and the cotton is so thin i can feel the heat and the shape of her through it.
i pull the underwear down and
okay i need to stop writing the fantasy and talk about what was happening to me while i was writing it because both things were happening simultaneously and that's important.
i was typing this with one hand. my other hand was between my legs. i wasn't using anything, just my fingers, because i haven't... i haven't bought anything yet. just my hand. and i was so wet by the time i got to the part about the mirror that my fingers were slipping and i had to adjust and i was lying on my side with my phone propped on the pillow and i was reading my own words back as i wrote them and getting off to my OWN fantasy as it was being created in real time and the recursion of that — writing porn about yourself, starring someone sleeping in the next room, and masturbating to your own writing as you produce it — is so many layers of fucked up that i almost laughed except laughing would have made noise and noise was not an option.
i came when fantasy-me put her mouth on fantasy-wonyoung. i didn't even finish writing the scene. i got to the part where i described spreading her open and tasting her and my brain filled in the details faster than my fingers could type and i came with my face buried in my pillow and my whole body curling inward and i bit down on the pillowcase and i made a sound i've never made before. small and high and desperate. like air escaping from something pressurized.
i lay there for a few minutes afterward. my hand still between my legs. my phone still open to this note. the unfinished fantasy on the screen. the taste of my own shame in my mouth.
i should have deleted it.
i finished writing the fantasy instead. the whole thing. completed it. fic-me made fic-wonyoung come on the dressing room chair and then fic-wonyoung pushed me against the vanity counter and returned the favor and then we sat on the cold floor together, half-dressed, not looking at each other, and fic-wonyoung said "i've been wanting this since we were trainees" and fic-me said "me too" and it was tender and sweet and i cried a little while writing it. not from arousal. from the distance between fiction and reality.
this is my first original work. i'm a fanfic writer now. i write smut about myself and my groupmate in my notes app at 1am and i get off to it. that's who i am now. an yujin, leader of ive, secret self-published author of idol lesbian smut, audience of one.
[march 11, 2023 — 11:48 PM]
i just ordered something online. from a site that ships in plain packaging to pickup lockers. i used a fake name. it'll be ready in a few days. i'm not going to write what it is because seeing it written down would make it too real.
okay it's a vibrator. a small one. rose gold. quiet. i spent forty minutes reading reviews to find the quietest one because NOISE IS THE ENEMY when you live in a dorm with five other girls.
three days. i'm going to be thinking about this for three days.
[march 14, 2023 — 04:05 AM]
picked it up today. wore a mask and a hat and sunglasses like i was committing a crime which, emotionally, i was. the locker was in a GS25 in hapjeong. i pretended to buy a triangle kimbap while i collected the package so it looked like i was just grabbing a delivery.
i used it tonight.
oh my god.
i used it tonight and it's a completely different universe from my fingers and i came twice in maybe ten minutes and the second one was so intense my vision went dark around the edges and i had to physically stop myself from moaning by shoving my wrist into my mouth and i have a bite mark now, AGAIN, and i need to start wearing bracelets or something to cover these.
i used it while re-reading my own dressing room fantasy. the one i wrote a week ago. i read my own words while pressing the vibrator against myself and my own writing got me off harder than any fic on ao3 has ever gotten me off because i wrote it for ME. i know exactly what i want. i know exactly what details to include. i know that the moment fic-wonyoung says "then don't" is the moment my whole body clenches. i engineered the perfect fantasy for my own body and then used a machine to execute the delivery and it was efficient and devastating and i am losing my mind.
wonyoung asked me at breakfast today why i looked tired. i said i was up late watching a drama.
i was up late making myself come to fiction i wrote about eating her out in a dressing room chair.
same thing basically.
lol.
i'm not okay.
[september 15, 2023 — 03:40 AM]
it's not just wonyoung anymore.
i need to write that down because pretending it's only about one person was the last wall between me and whatever i'm becoming and that wall is gone now.
it started at the MMA rehearsal last week. we were backstage. shared dressing area with three other girl groups. you know how it is backstage — twenty girls in various states of undress, stylists running around, hair dryers going, everyone changing between outfits. normal. this is normal. i've been in these rooms hundreds of times.
except now i'm not normal in these rooms anymore.
there was a girl — i'm not naming her group, i'm not naming her — standing across the room in a bra and stage pants. she was talking to her member about something, laughing, her arms animated, and every time she moved her abs flexed and her collarbones shifted and i was staring. not glancing. STARING. like i'd been hypnotized. my stylist had to say my name three times before i heard her.
and it wasn't just her. it was the girl from the other group doing her stretches in the corner in a crop top that showed the dimples above her waistband. it was the dancer who walked past me in just a sports bra and shorts and her shoulders were broad and muscular and i wanted to put my mouth on the line of muscle that ran from her neck to her shoulder.
i wanted to put my mouth on a stranger's shoulder. in a dressing room. surrounded by fifty people.
it's metastasized. that's the word. what started as a single infection — wonyoung, specifically, exclusively — has spread to the entire population of women in my field of vision. i am attracted to women. plural. all of them. any of them. the tall ones and the short ones and the athletic ones and the delicate ones and the ones who look like they could break me and the ones who look like i could break them.
i'm gay. or bi. or pan. or whatever the correct terminology is for an idol leader who can't stop fantasizing about every woman she sees. i don't have a word for it yet. i just have this note and a vibrator hidden in my suitcase.
i wrote a new fantasy tonight. not about wonyoung. about the girl from the dressing room. the one with the abs.
i imagined cornering her in a bathroom backstage. pushing her against the door. kissing her neck while my hand slid into her stage pants. no underwear — in my fantasy she wasn't wearing any, because my fantasies have no rules and i've decided that this fictional version of her goes commando. my fingers found her and she was wet and i whispered something against her ear — i don't even know what, my brain fills in dialogue on autopilot now — and she grabbed my wrist not to stop me but to push me deeper and i fucked her with my fingers against a bathroom door while a hundred people buzzed outside and she came biting my shoulder to stay quiet.
i came to that fantasy in maybe two minutes. the vibrator on high. my face in the pillow. alone in my room. the door locked. the fantasy stranger's body still vivid behind my eyelids.
i want them. not just wonyoung, all of them.
i'm greedy. that's the word. not just wishful anymore. greedy.
[november 4, 2023 — 02:12 AM]
i wrote a new one tonight. not wonyoung. gaeul-unnie.
i feel worse about this one. so much worse. because wonyoung at least started from something real — years of confused feelings, a genuine emotional attachment, something i can trace back and explain to myself as "it grew from admiration." it has a narrative. a logic. a defense, even if the defense is weak.
gaeul has no narrative. gaeul started today at 3pm during stretches when she bent forward in a fold and her oversized practice shirt fell away from her body and i was standing behind her and i could see down the collar straight to her chest, her sports bra, the skin between her breasts, and my brain didn't even hesitate. it skipped every rational checkpoint and went straight to constructing a scenario so detailed and so filthy that i lost focus on the choreography for the next two run-throughs and the choreographer asked if i was feeling okay and i said yes i'm fine just tired.
i wasn't tired. i was wet. in the practice room. at 3pm. surrounded by my members. because i saw down gaeul-unnie's shirt.
she's the oldest member. she's the person i lean on when the group stuff gets heavy. she's the one who sits with me after schedules when i'm drained and says "you did well today" in that quiet gaeul voice that makes everything feel manageable. she trusts me with things she doesn't tell the other members. i trust her with mine. she's the closest thing i have to a best friend in this group outside of wonyoung.
and tonight i wrote a fantasy about fingering her in a hotel bed while she pretended to sleep.
here's the short version:
tour. japan. shared hotel room because the company books five rooms for six members and someone always doubles up and tonight it's me and gaeul. one room, two beds — except in my fantasy it's one bed. booking error. or maybe not an error. maybe the universe arranging the circumstances that my real life will never provide.
she's lying on her stomach watching something on her phone. she's wearing what she actually wears to bed — i know this because i've shared hotel rooms with her dozens of times — an oversized grey t-shirt that goes to her mid-thigh and plain black underwear. her legs are bare. her hair is still damp from the shower. she smells like the hotel body wash and underneath it her own specific gaeul-smell that i shouldn't be able to identify but can because i've been breathing it in during every hug, every shared van ride, every time she falls asleep on my shoulder– maybe it wasn't just wonyoung after all.
i'm sitting next to her on the bed pretending to scroll through my phone but i'm looking at her legs. i'm always looking at her legs now. gaeul has these legs that don't make sense for someone her height — long and toned from years of dancing, with this specific curve in her calves that i want to run my tongue along and i HATE that i know that about myself now.
i say something stupid. "you look comfortable." she says "mmhmm" without looking up. i put my hand on her lower back. the t-shirt is soft and thin and warm from her body heat and i can feel her spine through the fabric. she doesn't react. this is normal. i touch her back all the time — backstage, in the van. this is what members do.
except my hand moves lower.
slowly. past the hem of the shirt. onto bare skin. her thigh. warm and smooth and i feel the tiny hairs on her skin rise under my fingers — goosebumps — and she still doesn't look up from her phone but her breathing changes. i can see the rhythm of it shift in her ribcage. faster. shallower.
my hand moves higher. along her inner thigh. she opens her legs. not a lot. barely an inch. but the inch is an invitation and we both know it and neither of us says a word because words would make it real and real would make us stop.
i reach the edge of her underwear. plain cotton. i trace the edge with my fingertip, along the crease where her thigh meets her hip, and she makes a sound into her arm — so quiet it's almost not a sound, more like a shift in her breathing, a tiny catch — and i feel dampness through the fabric. she's wet. gaeul-unnie is wet. from my hand on her thigh. from the anticipation. and the knowledge that my touch made her body respond like that is the most powerful thing i've ever felt in any fantasy.
i push the cotton aside. she's warm. slick. swollen. when my finger slides between her folds she presses her face into the mattress and her hips shift backward, pushing against my hand, and still — STILL — neither of us speaks. the silence is the agreement. the silence is consent and denial simultaneously. if we don't say it out loud it's not happening. we're just two members sharing a bed. my hand is just resting. everything is normal.
i find her clit. she's sensitive — more sensitive than i expected, or more sensitive than the fic versions of other women have been in my previous fantasies, because this one i'm writing from real observation. i've watched gaeul dance. i've watched the way she isolates her hips during body rolls. i've watched the micro-expressions on her face when she nails a difficult move — that tiny flash of satisfaction that crosses her features before the neutral mask returns. i know how her body responds to stimulus. i've been studying it for years without admitting that's what i was doing.
i circle her clit slowly. she grips the sheets with both hands. her phone has gone dark, abandoned. her hips are moving in small circles against my hand, matching my rhythm, finding the angle that works best, and i watch her face — turned to the side now, cheek pressed to the mattress, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, a line of tension running from her jaw down her neck. she looks nothing like the calm, composed gaeul that the fans see. she looks wrecked. she looks desperate. she looks like she's been waiting for this as long as i have.
i slide a finger inside her. she gasps — a real gasp, sharp, loud enough that in a real hotel room it would be dangerous — and she's tight and hot and she clenches around my finger immediately. i feel her heartbeat through the walls of her. i add a second finger and she moans into the mattress, a muffled broken sound, and her hand reaches behind her and finds my thigh and grips and her nails dig in and i feel the crescents forming in my skin and i don't care. i want the marks. i want evidence.
i fuck her slowly with two fingers while she lies on her stomach. i curl them forward the way i've read about in a hundred fics and the way i've practiced on myself and i find the spot — the textured patch on the front wall — and i press and her entire body jerks and she says the first word either of us has spoken.
"yujin."
just my name. no honorific. just yujin. raw and broken and it sounds like a prayer from someone who doesn't pray.
i press harder. i move faster. the wet sounds are obscene and loud and i add a third finger because she's opened for me, her body making room, and i can feel her walls fluttering around my fingers and i know she's close because her breathing has gone shallow and rapid and her grip on my thigh is white-knuckled and her hips have gone rigid, her entire body a wire pulled taut.
she comes with her face buried in the mattress and a sound that starts as my name and dissolves into something wordless and animal. i feel her pulse around my fingers — rhythmic clenching, hard, over and over — and her legs are shaking and her back is arched and she's making small sounds into the sheets and i keep my fingers inside her through all of it, feeling every contraction, every wave, because i don't want to miss a single second of what i'm doing to her.
when it passes she goes limp. completely boneless. her hand releases my thigh. i can see the marks — four little crescents, red, raised. i look at them and something possessive and dark flares in my chest.
i slide my fingers out. they're wet. i look at them in the dim hotel room light — shiny, slick — and i
okay. here's what was happening to me.
i was using the vibrator. high setting. i was so turned on by the time i got to "yujin" — just her saying my name — that i was grinding against it desperately. i came right when fantasy-gaeul came. synchronized. my body mirrored what i was writing and the orgasm was deep and rolling and lasted longer than usual and i had to shove my entire fist against my mouth to stay quiet.
and then. the part that scares me.
after i came, after the wave passed, i didn't stop. i scrolled back to the wonyoung dressing room fantasy. the one from march. re-read it while still buzzing and started again immediately and i came a second time imagining wonyoung while the first orgasm was still about gaeul and the overlap — wanting gaeul AND wonyoung, cycling between them, stacking them — made me come so hard my legs cramped and i had to stretch them out under the blanket.
i lay there in the dark with my heart hammering and i thought: i want both of them. not one. both. and not just them.
the wishful became greedy. the greedy is becoming sinful.
this note's title is starting to make too much sense.
[april 2024 — multiple entries]
things i have done in the last six months that i need to document before i convince myself they didn't happen:
— hotel room. schedule trip. shared with liz. two beds, four feet apart. she fell asleep before me, breathing evenly, facing the wall. i lay in the dark listening to her breathe and i was so turned on i could feel my own pulse between my legs. i used just my fingers because the vibrator was in my suitcase across the room and getting up would risk waking her. i came in complete silence, jaw locked, breathing through my nose, my entire body rigid. the orgasm was mediocre but the RISK made my heart race harder than any fantasy.
— the van. long drive to a schedule in busan. everyone sleeping except the driver. blanket over my lap. i used my hand through my shorts. it took maybe ninety seconds because the combination of proximity and danger compressed everything. gaeul-unnie was sleeping in the seat next to me, her head against the window, and i came staring at the back of the driver's headrest and wiped my hand on the inside of the blanket. nobody woke up. the driver didn't look back.
— music show bathroom. during a live broadcast day. i sat on the toilet with my hand in my shorts and came in under a minute to the memory of what i'd seen in the shared dressing room ten minutes earlier — a specific idol from another group bending over in just underwear to step into her stage outfit. i went back out with my face flushed and told the stylist i was feeling warm. she gave me a cold water bottle. i pressed it against my neck and smiled.
— hotel room again. osaka. shared with rei this time. one bed. actual booking situation, not a fantasy. she fell asleep facing away from me. i moved closer. gradually. over twenty minutes. until my body was pressed against her back. full contact. spooning. my arm went around her waist like it was sleep-instinct. my face buried in her hair.
i didn't touch her inappropriately. my hands stayed still. my hips stayed still. i just... pressed. against her. and breathed her in. memorized the specific shape of her body against mine — the curve of her waist, the warmth radiating through her sleep shirt, the rhythm of her ribcage expanding and contracting under my arm. i lay there for over an hour in a state of arousal so intense it was almost meditative. trance-like. i could have stayed there forever. suspended in the wanting without acting on it. the purest form of torture.
i went to the bathroom after and came in under thirty seconds. sitting on the toilet. my face in a towel to muffle it. i barely had to touch myself — the hour of contact had wound me so tight that one touch detonated everything.
— stole one of wonyoung's worn t-shirts from the laundry. not permanently. just for one night. i slept with it pressed against my face and i could smell her on it — her specific smell, the perfume and the faint sweat and the shampoo and underneath all of that something that's just HER, just her biology — and i held the shirt against my face while i used the vibrator and i came three times and the third time i said her name into the fabric. quietly. barely a whisper. but i said it. "wonyoung." into her own shirt. while making myself come.
i put the shirt back the next morning. she never noticed. why would she. she trusts me. they all trust me.
i'm making a list of my sins now. that's what this note has become. not a journal. not random thoughts. a catalogue of sins committed by a woman who has been handed everything — fame, money, love, trust — and is still hungry. still greedy. still reaching for the things she can't have while surrounded by everything she's supposed to want.
[september 28, 2024 — 03:33 AM]
something happened two weeks ago and i haven't been able to write about it until now because every time i open this note to try, my hands start shaking and i have to close it.
i'm writing it now because the not-writing is worse. the not-writing means it just loops in my head without resolution.
two weeks ago. the dorm. my bed. maybe 1am. i thought everyone was asleep. i was doing what i do — vibrator, fantasy, the usual private horror show. i was building a new scenario in my head. not writing it down this time, just running it internally, because sometimes the fantasies move too fast for typing and i just need to close my eyes and let them play.
i was close. really close. vibrator on the highest setting because i was chasing something specific and i needed the intensity. my face was in the pillow. my body was on its side, curled inward. i was breathing in short bursts through my nose trying to stay silent.
i came. hard. too hard. harder than i expected because the fantasy escalated faster than i'd planned and the orgasm hit me like a wall and my body MOVED. involuntarily. my hips jerked and the bed frame made a sound — a creak, one single creak — and i froze.
the thing is, i wasn't alone. rei was staying in my room that night. she'd been watching a drama on my laptop earlier and fallen asleep and i'd let her stay because that's what you do, that's what the reliable leader does, you don't wake your sleeping member and send her to her own room. you let her sleep. in YOUR room. four feet from YOUR bed. while you lie awake for two hours waiting for her breathing to even out so you can do the thing you need to do to fall asleep.
i heard a shift from her direction.
i didn't breathe. i didn't move. my hand was still between my legs, vibrator still pressing against me, still buzzing — and i couldn't turn it off without moving and moving would confirm i was awake and if she knew i was awake she might say something and if she said something she'd hear my voice and my voice would sound like THAT because i'd finished thirty seconds ago.
i pressed the vibrator against my thigh to muffle it through the blanket. i lay perfectly still. i counted seconds.
she shifted again. the sound of someone rolling over.
silence.
more silence.
her breathing settled back into what i prayed was a sleeping rhythm.
i waited five full minutes before i moved. then i turned off the vibrator with shaking hands and shoved it under my pillow and lay on my back staring at the ceiling with my heart beating so hard i could hear it in my ears.
that was two weeks ago. and since then.
she hasn't said anything. she hasn't looked at me differently. not obviously. everything seems normal. we do schedules. we eat together. we practice. she laughs at my jokes. she falls asleep on my shoulder in the van.
but sometimes — sometimes — i catch her looking at me with an expression i can't read. not suspicious exactly. just... aware. like she heard a sound she's still trying to identify. like she's holding a puzzle piece she can't quite place.
i should be terrified. i AM terrified.
i'm also more turned on than i've ever been.
the idea that rei MIGHT know. that she might have heard. that she might have been lying in the dark four feet away listening to the buzz of my vibrator and the creak of my bed and pieced together what was happening. the idea that she knows what their leader does at night and hasn't said anything — because she's horrified? because she's confused? because she's pretending it didn't happen?
or because she liked listening?
i came to THAT thought tonight. tonight. just now. lying in my own bed, alone this time, safe, no witnesses. the fantasy that rei heard everything and wanted to hear more. that she lay in the dark with her eyes open, listening, not stopping me, maybe even
i came so hard and so fast to that thought that it scared me. the orgasm came from nowhere — one second i was constructing the scenario, the next my body was clenching and i was gasping into my pillow and it was over before i could even process that it was happening. like my body had been holding that specific fantasy in reserve, waiting for me to finally think it, and the moment i did it detonated.
i need to stop.
i need to stop saying "i need to stop" because we both know — me and this note — that i'm never going to stop.
[february 3, 2025 — 02:30 AM]
i'm writing this because today was the worst. today was the day that broke something in me that i don't think i can repair and i need to get it out before it eats me alive.
photoshoot. ive group shoot for a magazine. all of us. the concept was "intimate" — soft lighting, minimal styling, the kind of editorial that's supposed to show the "real" us. the photographer wanted natural. candid. close.
so we were close. physically close. arms around each other. heads on shoulders. faces inches apart. the kind of closeness that's normal for us, that we do every day, that fans see in every behind-the-scenes video.
except today the stylist put wonyoung in a silk top with no bra underneath and i could see everything. the outline of her. the shape. the specific way the fabric draped over her chest and moved when she breathed. and we had to pose with my arm around her waist and her head tilted toward me and the photographer kept saying "closer, closer, more intimate" and i could smell her perfume and feel her ribs expand under my hand and her hair was touching my neck and i was drowning.
and then there was the shot where we all had to lie down together. on a white backdrop. tangled. the photographer arranged us — limbs overlapping, heads resting on stomachs, hands loosely intertwined. i ended up with my head near gaeul's hip and liz's hand on my shoulder and wonyoung's leg draped over mine and rei's hair brushing my arm and i was surrounded by them. engulfed. every sense filled with their bodies. their warmth. their skin. their scent. the women i love and want and can never have, pressed against me while a camera clicked and a room full of staff watched and i smiled and i was professional and inside i was burning alive.
i came home. i took a cold shower. it didn't help. i went to bed. i couldn't sleep. i lay in the dark for two hours replaying the photoshoot in my head. the silk top. the tangled limbs. gaeul's hip bone against my cheek. wonyoung's thigh across mine. the weight of liz's hand on my shoulder. rei's hair against my skin.
i can't do the usual tonight. the vibrator and the fantasy and the single-member scenario. it's not enough. tonight i need something bigger because the ache is bigger. the ache is the size of the entire group. the ache is the size of every woman i've ever wanted and never touched.
so i'm going to write the fantasy i've never let myself write. the one that's been building at the back of my skull for months. the one i've been too scared to put into words because putting it into words makes it real and real is where the guilt lives.
all of them. at once. all of them. at once. every member.
except leeseo.
i need to say that clearly because this note has
become evidence of who i am and i need at least one piece of evidence that i'm not completely gone. leeseo is off limits. she has always been off limits. she's the youngest and i helped raise her in this industry and whatever broken wiring exists in my brain, whatever fucked up thing i am, it does not touch her. she is my little sister. genuinely. that feeling is clean and i will protect it with everything i have left.
so. everyone except leeseo. in a scenario where they all know. where they all want me back. where the dorm becomes something else entirely.
it starts after a schedule. late. we're all tired. we're in the dorm living room and someone suggests a movie and we pile onto the couch and the floor and there's blankets and pillows and the lights are off except the TV. normal night. ordinary. safe.
except in this version wonyoung sits next to me and puts her head on my shoulder and her hand is on my thigh under the blanket. not high. just resting. and i put my hand over hers and our fingers interlock and nobody can see because of the blanket and the darkness. and she squeezes my hand and i squeeze back and the squeeze means something that a squeeze doesn't normally mean.
her hand moves higher. slowly. under the blanket. my thigh. my inner thigh. i open my legs slightly and she takes the invitation and her fingertips trace the inseam of my shorts and i stop breathing and on the TV the movie plays and on the couch gaeul is watching the screen and on the floor the others are lying in their own blankets and wonyoung's fingers are pressing against me through the fabric of my shorts and
i need to stop writing and just think now. the vibrator is on. i'm... i started before i even got to the good part because the SETUP is enough now. the domesticity of it. the couch. the movie. the normalcy hiding the depravity. that contrast is what does it to me every time.
...
...
...
03:47 AM.
okay. i'm back. i need to write down what just happened in my head because i don't want to lose it and i also need to see it written down so i can understand what i'm becoming.
i stopped writing because the fantasy took over and i couldn't type anymore. my eyes were closed and the vibrator was against me and the scenario in my head went like this:
wonyoung's hand slipped inside my shorts. her fingers found me and i was wet and she made a small sound against my shoulder — surprise or satisfaction — and her finger started circling and on the couch i was staring at the TV seeing nothing and my hand was gripping the blanket.
gaeul noticed. she looked over. she saw the movement under the blanket. she saw my face. and instead of being horrified she moved closer. under the blanket. her hand went to my other thigh. she didn't say anything. she just touched me. both of them. wonyoung on one side, gaeul on the other, their hands meeting between my legs. gaeul's fingers joining wonyoung's and they worked together and i was biting my lip so hard i tasted blood.
on the floor liz lifted her head. she saw. she watched. she crawled forward on her hands and knees and got under the blanket at my feet and she pulled my shorts down and her mouth replaced their fingers and i
that's where i came the first time. the image of liz's mouth on me while wonyoung and gaeul touched me and rei watched from the floor with dark eyes. i came with my face buried in the pillow and the vibrator on high and my body convulsing and i didn't stop. i didn't turn it off. i kept the vibrator going and kept the fantasy running because it wasn't done.
in my head it evolved. expanded. the movie forgotten. the blankets pushed aside. everyone's hands on everyone. wonyoung riding my face while gaeul's mouth was on my neck. liz between my legs while i reached for rei. switching. rotating. every configuration my brain could generate. bodies and mouths and sounds and my name — yujin, yujin, unnie, please, more, there, don't stop — coming from every direction.
the fantasy fractured into images. flashes. wonyoung's face when she comes. gaeul's fingers inside me. liz's tongue. rei's hands gripping my thighs. sounds — wet sounds, breathing, moans, whispered words in the dark.
i came again. harder. my vision went white and then dark and i think i might have blacked out for a second because there's a gap between the peak and now. the vibrator was still buzzing against my thigh. my face was wet. tears. i'd been crying without knowing it.
...
04:02 AM.
i've been lying here for fifteen minutes. staring at the ceiling. the vibrator is off. my body is still twitching in aftershocks. this note is open on my phone. everything i've written over the past two and a half years is right here. every fantasy. every confession. every sin.
the guilt is here now. right on schedule. the post-orgasm clarity that arrives like a bill after a meal. i re-read what i wrote tonight — the movie scenario, everyone's hands, the configurations — and i feel sick. actually sick. these are my friends. my members. the girls who trust me to lead them, to protect them, to make good decisions on their behalf.
i make decisions on their behalf during the day and i write about fucking them at night. that's who their leader is. that's who an yujin is when nobody's watching.
i keep thinking maybe if i ever actually kissed a woman — any woman, not even one of them, just someone, anyone — maybe the pressure would release. maybe the fantasies would fade. maybe i'd stop writing in this note and start living in the real world.
but i can't kiss anyone. i can't touch anyone. i can't tell anyone. i'm an idol. i'm a leader. i'm twenty-two years old and i've never been kissed properly and i've made myself come a thousand times to the thought of women who call me unnie and trust me with their lives and i am the loneliest person i know.
tomorrow we have a schedule at 7am. i'll set my alarm for 5:30. i'll shower. i'll wash this off me. i'll put on the face and the voice and the energy. i'll stand next to wonyoung in hair and makeup and she'll lean on me because she's sleepy in the mornings and her head will be on my shoulder and she'll smell like that shampoo and i'll say something funny to wake her up and she'll laugh and the stylist will smile and everything will be normal.
nobody will know. nobody ever knows. that used to feel like safety. now it just feels like the walls of a room that gets smaller every night.
Synopsis: you book a premium “girlfriend experience” through a discreet app after a brutal work week. Kazuha shows up at your apartment looking like a dream—sweet, graceful, and way out of your league. What starts as polite company turns heated when the chemistry feels too real, leading to a night where she gives you everything you didn’t know you needed.
---
Chat Log:
You: Hey, I booked the 8-hour girlfriend package for tonight. Address is sent. Looking forward to meeting you, Kazuha.
Kazuha 💕: Hi! I’m on my way~ Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you forget all about your stressful week. See you soon, oppa 😉
You: Sounds perfect. No pressure, just good company.
Kazuha 💕: Hehe, I’m good at that. And maybe a little more if the vibe is right 💕
The doorbell rang right at 8 PM. You opened it to find Kazuha standing there in a soft cream sweater and pleated skirt, her long legs accentuated by cute ankle boots. Her pink-tinted hair framed her face perfectly, and that gentle smile hit you harder than expected.
“Hi,” she said softly, tilting her head. “I’m Kazuha. Ready for your girlfriend tonight?”
You let her in, heart beating a little faster. The app had great reviews, but seeing her in person was something else. She smelled like vanilla and fresh flowers as she slipped off her shoes and made herself comfortable on your couch like she’d been here a hundred times.
At first it was nice and easy. She asked about your week, listened with genuine interest, laughed at your lame jokes, and even cooked simple pasta with you in the kitchen. Her movements were graceful—years of ballet training obvious in every step. You talked about movies, favorite foods, silly dreams. For a rented girlfriend, it felt scarily real.
Two glasses of wine later, the atmosphere shifted. You were sitting close on the couch, her legs draped over your lap. Kazuha traced circles on your thigh with her fingertip.
“You know,” she murmured, “most clients just want someone to listen. But you’re sweet. I like you.” Her eyes met yours. “If you want more than the standard package… I’m okay with it. Only if you want.”
You swallowed hard. “I want you, Kazuha.”
She leaned in and kissed you first—soft, tentative, then deeper when you kissed back. Her lips were plush and warm. You pulled her onto your lap, hands sliding under her sweater to feel smooth skin. She sighed into your mouth, grinding lightly against the growing bulge in your pants.
“Bedroom?” she whispered.
You carried her there, her legs wrapped around your waist. Clothes came off slowly, like unwrapping a gift. Kazuha’s body was toned and elegant—perky breasts, tiny waist, long dancer’s legs. You laid her down on the bed and kissed down her neck, sucking lightly on her collarbone.
She moaned softly when your fingers found her pussy, already wet. You circled her clit before sliding two fingers inside, curling them just right. Kazuha’s hips bucked, her breath hitching.
“Feels good… right there,” she gasped.
You ate her out next, tongue replacing your fingers while you held her thighs open. She tasted sweet and addictive. Kazuha’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as she came with a pretty cry, thighs trembling around your head.
When she recovered, she pushed you onto your back and crawled between your legs. “My turn.” Her mouth was heaven—warm, wet, and enthusiastic. She took you deep, bobbing her head while her hand stroked the base. Those ballet-trained hands knew exactly how to squeeze. You groaned, fighting the urge to thrust into her throat.
“Want you inside me,” she said, pulling off with a wet pop and climbing on top.
Kazuha sank down onto your cock in one smooth motion, her tight heat enveloping every inch. She rode you like a dream, hips rolling in that graceful way only she could manage. Her breasts bounced softly as she moved faster, hands braced on your chest.
“Fuck, you’re big,” she whimpered. “Filling me so well.”
You sat up, wrapping your arms around her and thrusting up to meet her. The new angle made her moan louder. You sucked on her nipples while she rode you harder, her pussy clenching around you.
After a while you flipped her onto her side, spooning behind her. You lifted one of her long legs and slid back in, fucking her deep and slow. One hand wrapped loosely around her throat—not tight, just enough to make her feel claimed. Kazuha reached back to pull you closer, kissing you messily over her shoulder.
“Harder,” she begged. “I can take it.”
You gave it to her, pounding into her until the sound of skin slapping filled the room. She came again, soaking your cock and the sheets.
You pulled out and put her on all fours. Doggy style looked incredible on her—ass up, back arched perfectly from all that dance practice. You gripped her hips and fucked her deep, watching your cock disappear inside her over and over.
“Gonna cum soon,” you warned.
“On my face,” she panted. “Please. I want to see it.”
You pulled out at the last second and flipped her onto her back. Kazuha opened her mouth, tongue out, eyes locked on yours as you stroked yourself over her. Thick ropes of cum painted her pretty face—across her lips, cheeks, and tongue. She looked stunning like that, flushed and marked by you.
She licked what she could reach, smiling up at you. “Mmm. Tasty.”
You cleaned her up gently with a warm towel, then pulled her into your arms under the covers. Kazuha snuggled close, head on your chest, tracing patterns on your skin.
“Was that okay?” she asked quietly. “Sometimes clients get weird after.”
“More than okay,” you said, kissing her forehead. “Felt real. Too real, honestly.”
She laughed softly. “Good. I don’t do this part with everyone, but… I meant it when I said I like you.” Her fingers intertwined with yours. “The night’s not over yet if you still want your girlfriend around.”
You spent the next couple hours just talking and touching—lazy kisses, her legs tangled with yours. When round two happened it was slower, sweeter. Missionary this time, face to face so you could watch every expression as you made love to her. You came inside her that time, deep and warm, while she whispered your name like a secret.
Afterward, she stayed curled against you, the paid arrangement feeling miles away.
For one night, Kazuha wasn’t just a rented girlfriend. She felt like yours.
"Hey, Jung Min-woo. You’ve been pullin' so much overtime lately, you look like death warmed over. Can you even get it up at this point?"
"Shut the fuck up. I’m hard 24/7. My sex drive is literally uncontrollable right now."
"Look at this virgin acting tough. Bet your sperm count is pathetic as hell, lmao."
"You wanna die? Want to bet on whose sperm is healthier?"
A week ago, a completely useless conversation over drinks with my high school buddies sparked the whole thing. Men's useless pride always blows up in the weirdest directions. A petty argument over 'who had the healthiest sperm' ended up escalating into a bet with a 500,000 won stake per person for a 'certified fertility semen analysis,' which is how I reluctantly ended up walking into this quiet, late-night urology clinic.
Ding-dong—
"Welcome. This is Deokso Urology Clinic."
As the clinic's automatic door slid open, a chime announced my entry, and a nurse greeted me with a sweet, pleasant voice.
"Uh… I’m here to get a… sperm test done…"
I only came here because of the bet, but actually bringing up a sperm test to a female nurse triggered my inner loser DNA, making my voice shrink into a mumble.
"Oh, yes! We actually have a lot of young men coming in for tests these days. There's absolutely no need to feel embarrassed."
The nurse welcomed me with a bright, beaming smile, and she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her pale skin, large eyes, and slightly pointed ears gave her a subtly exotic, almost elf-like vibe. Soon, my eyes were locked onto her slender figure, perfectly accentuated by her pink nurse uniform. As my gaze naturally drifted toward her chest, I spotted a name tag that read 'Park Min-ju.' Even her name was gorgeous.
"Our clinic closes at 8:00 PM. Will that give you enough time?"
As I took the paper cup Min-ju handed me, I checked my watch; it was 7:30 PM. Given my extensive years of masturbation experience, thirty minutes was more than enough time to bust a nut.
"Yeah, five minutes is plenty. I mean—not that I have premature ejaculation or anything."
Bumbling like an idiot and digging my own grave in front of a girl, I watched Min-ju giggle before she led me to the room.
"You can go right into this room."
Following Min-ju's guidance, I entered a small room holding the paper cup. Inside were plain white walls and a small black examination bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, about to jack off, a wave of regret washed over me for ever agreeing to that stupid bet.
"Ah, seriously, fuck my life. What a pathetic sight."
To get this over with quickly, I stripped off my pants and boxers and lay back on the bed. There it was—my dick, which had only ever known the touch of my own right hand. To think I’d be jerking off in a clinic of all places. How utterly miserable.
To start, I wrapped my right hand around my shaft and began to stroke. Staring blankly up at the ceiling, I kept pumping, but perhaps because of the unfamiliar environment, it showed no signs of getting hard. Needing a fantasy target, I immediately thought of the nurse, Min-ju. The moment her face flashed in my mind, a rock-hard erection surged instantly. Gripping my rigid cock tightly with my right hand, I began pumping it up and down. Imagining Min-ju smiling while handling my dick, her name slipped past my lips involuntarily.
"Ah, Min-ju… stroke me harder…"
But because I was stuck in a strange place and felt pressured to finish fast, I couldn't get close to cumming at all. In the middle of it, my right forearm started aching, reminding me of my friend teasing me about being out of shape. Even though I jerk off every single day, my arm muscles are still this pathetic. What a useless body.
Knock, knock, knock—
"It’s almost 8:00, closing time. Are you not finished yet?"
"Ah, yes! Sorry about that. I’m a bit tense, so it’s not working well. I’ll come back tomorrow."
Startled by the sudden knock and Min-ju's question, panic gripped me, and cold sweat began to pour down my face.
"Then… would you like me to help you?"
"Huh?"
Unable to process what she just said, I raised my head, still clutching my dick, and stared at the door. Then, I heard the click of the handle turning.
"Ah, wait a second!"
Flustered, I scrambled to cover my dick with both hands and squeezed my legs tightly together. Min-ju stepped into the room, flashing a playful smile as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I have to punch out at 8:00, but it’s already 7:50."
"I’m really sorry. Since it’s a strange place, it’s not working like it usually does."
"That's why I'm going to help you."
Min-ju smoothed down the fabric of her pink nurse uniform and perched right at the end of the bed between my legs. A faint, subtle scent—maybe soap, maybe lotion—wafted over me, sending a dizzying jolt straight to my brain. Reaching out with her pale, slender hand, she gently brushed away my frantic hands trying to cover myself.
And then, without a shred of hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around my dick, which was pulsing with heat and tension in the unfamiliar air.
"Hngh…!"
The very first touch of a woman sent a white-hot electric current straight up my spine. Min-ju's hand was unbelievably small and soft. It was on a completely different level from my own rough, calloused right hand. As her smooth, soft palm melted against my burning shaft, the cozy, exquisite sensation turned my brain to mush. I felt so overwhelmed that I actually started feeling guilty toward my dick for only ever treating it roughly with my own hand. I’m so sorry…
"Um… do you normally help out like this…?"
What a fucking moronic question. No wonder I’ve been a virgin my whole life.
"Pfft. No, I don't usually do this. Consider it a special service just for you, patient."
Min-ju flashed a mischievous grin and tightened her grip. Wrapping her hand around my engorged shaft, she began to stroke it up and down in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Every time she slid up, her soft skin frictioned relentlessly against my hypersensitive flesh. This has to be heaven…
"Haah, ngf…"
Especially when the tip of her thumb swirled around the highly sensitive crown of my glans, it felt like my lower abdomen was twisting inside out. As her strokes grew faster and tighter, slick pre-cum oozed out, coating her fingers. A squelching, wet friction sound echoed lewdly throughout the small room. I felt like I was going to explode any second, but wanting to prolong this blissful sensation, I bit my lip hard and endured.
"It's really time to go home, and you still haven't cum yet? This won't do. Let's finish this a bit more effectively."
Min-ju crawled gracefully onto the bed. As she knelt down right between my thighs, her pink skirt rode up dangerously high, exposing her bare thighs. Leaning over me while gripping my dick with her hand, she slowly parted her red, wet lips.
Then, without missing a beat, she took my entire head into her mouth.
"Mghp! …"
The moment the hot, wet, tight walls of her mouth swallowed my center whole, I almost screamed, barely clamping a hand over my own mouth to stifle it. The sheer warmth and overwhelming suction were incomparable to the touch of her hand.
Min-ju sucked down hard, her cheeks hollowing out as she greedily worked her tongue, swirling it mercilessly over the sensitive ridge beneath the head. I realized right then that when my bastard friend bragged 24/7 about how blowjobs were pure ecstasy, this was exactly what he meant.
"I'm gonna—I'm gonna cum…! I can't hold it…!"
I was at my absolute limit. Completely losing my mind to raw instinct, I grabbed Min-ju's head tightly with both hands. And then, I bucked my hips hard, driving myself deep into the back of her throat.
"Mghp! Mgghp—!"
My body convulsed with a violent shiver as every single muscle locked tight. Because I was forcefully holding her head down, my dick violently throbbed, firing thick, scorching ropes of cum straight down the back of her throat.
"Ah, uggh…! Hngh…"
My cock twitched and pulsed erratically as the muscles in my anus, abdomen, and lower body clamped and released repeatedly. It was a long, heavy release, squeezing out every last drop. Min-ju choked, gagging slightly from the deep intrusion, and she desperately clawed at my thighs trying to push me away, but she couldn't break free from my crazed strength, forced to take the full brunt of my explosion.
Only after the last drop was spent did the strength leave my bones. I let go of her head and collapsed flat on the bed, gasping for air. After a few seconds, as my sanity slowly trickled back, the reality of my aggressive behavior hit me, and my heart dropped. I hurriedly apologized.
"I'm so sorry… I got too excited just now and forced it down your throat…"
Min-ju coughed and gagged for a moment, her eyes watering as she hacked up a bit. She wiped away the glistening trail of spit and stray semen from her lips with the back of her hand. Then, her face flushed red, she smiled playfully.
"Oh my. Your semen tasted so good I accidentally swallowed every bit of it. What ever should we do?"
"Huh…?"
"We were supposed to collect it in the cup for the analysis, but since I ate it all, I guess you’ll just have to come back tomorrow. By the way… if you come by after 8:00, I’ll be all alone in the clinic."
Watching Min-ju curve her eyes like a sly fox, I could do nothing but blink like a stunned idiot, my face burning red.
synopsis : When a random guy tries to flirt with Y/N backstage, Karina gets super jealous but can't say anything because they're keeping their relationship a secret.
Working as a lead makeup artist for SM Entertainment meant you were used to chaos. But nothing prepared you for the absolute rollercoaster of secretly dating Aespa’s leader, Karina.
Right now, you were backstage at a massive music festival. The green room was loud, filled with staff, styling racks, and other idol groups passing by.
You were currently organizing your makeup brushes, your back turned to the door, when a shadow loomed over your table. "Uh, excuse me? Hi Y/n," a voice said.
You turned around to see a male staff member from another prominent boy group (Stray Kids). He was handsome, wearing a staff id lace, and holding his phone out with a hopeful smile.
"Oh, hello! Do you need some help or something?" you asked politely.
"No, actually," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ve seen you around at a few music shows now. I think you're really beautiful. I was wondering if I could get your number? Maybe we can grab coffee when this weekend is over."
Before you could answer, you felt a sharp, intense gaze burning into the side of your face. You glanced toward the vanity mirrors.
You see your girlfriend Karina was sitting there, ostensibly letting winter fix her hair, but her eyes were locked onto you through the mirror reflection. Her jaw was tight, and her goofy smile she usually wore was completely gone.
"Ah, thank you," you said to the guy, trying to be nice but distant. "But I don't really give my number out while I'm working."
"Oh, come on, just coffee," the guy persisted, stepping a bit closer into your personal space. "Unless... you have a boyfriend? Is that why?"
"No, I don't have a boyfriend," you said honestly. You technically didn't. You had a gorgeous, incredibly possessive girlfriend who looked like she was about to commit a crime across the room. But obviously, you couldn't say that out loud.
"I'm just really busy."
"If you don't have a boyfriend, then there's no harm, right?" the guy smiled, pushing his phone a little closer to your face. "Just write it down."
From across the room,
A loud thud echoed. Karina had slammed her water bottle down on the table a bit too hard.
Ningselle who were sitting nearby, immediately noticed. They looked from the guy bothering you, to Karina’s deadly expression, and instantly broke into mischievous grins.
"Wah, Karina-Ya," Giselle teased in a low voice, nudging Karina’s shoulder. "Someone’s looking really scary right now. Is that the effect of the drinks earlier or is it just your aura in here?"
"Unnie, your face is going to turn into a puddle if you pout any harder," Ningning giggled, leaning over to whisper.
"Go save your girl before she gets stolen." Winter said when she noticed after she got her food.
Karina didn't say anything. She just crossed her arms, kicked her legs out, and pouted deeply, glaring at the floor like a angry puppy. She looked so childishly jealous that you had to bite your inner cheek to keep from laughing.
"Look, I really have to get back to work," you told the guy firmly, stepping around him. "Excuse me."
The guy finally sighed in defeat and walked away.
The moment he left, you walked over to aespa's vanity. Karina immediately looked up at you, her bottom lip still stuck out.
"Ready for touch-ups, Jimin-ah?" you asked professionally, though your eyes were screaming 'please don't do anything crazy.'
Karina didn't answer. When you leaned in with a powder puff, she suddenly gripped your wrist tightly under the camouflage of adjusting your collar. Her grip was firm, possessive, and her eyes glared into yours.
"No boyfriend, huh?" she muttered under her breath, so low that only you could hear.
"Baby, we're at work," you whispered back, your heart racing at her touch. She let go of your wrist, but she let out a loud, dramatic huff and closed her eyes, refusing to look at you for the rest of the styling session.
~~
By the time the schedule ended and you both made it back to your secret shared apartment, it was past midnight.
You unlocked the door, exhausted, carrying your heavy makeup bag. Karina walked in right behind you. Usually, the moment the door closed, she would turn into a clingy koala, hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek. But tonight? She walked straight past you, kicked off her shoes, and threw herself onto the living room sofa.
She sat there, arms crossed, staring blankly at the TV screen that wasn't even turned on.
You sighed, a fond smile breaking onto your face. You walked over, putting your bag down, and sat on the edge of the sofa near her feet.
"Are you still sulking?" Silence. She didn't even blink.
"Baby." You reached out and gently shook her ankle. "Come on. He was just a random guy. I didn't even give him my number."
"But you told him you don't have a boyfriend," Karina finally spoke, her voice a mix of a whine and a growl. She turned her head to look at you, her eyes shining with pure jealousy.
"You should have just lied and said you did! Or said you were married! He was being so annoying, touching his neck like that, standing so close to you that it makes me angrier."
"I told him no three times, babe," you softened your voice, crawling closer to her on the sofa.
"And you know I can't say I have a girlfriend. Especially not who my girlfriend is. We have to be careful."
"I know," Karina whined, suddenly throwing her arms around your waist and pulling you down onto her chest.
She buried her face into your neck, hugging you so tightly you could barely breathe. "I know we have to be careful. But I hated it. I hated watching another guy look at you like that. I wanted to walk over there, pull you away, and tell everyone in that room that you belong to me."
The possessiveness in her voice made a shiver run down your spine. You wrapped your arms around her neck, stroking her soft hair. "I do belong to you. Only you."
Karina pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. Her expression was heavy, intense, and dark with desire. "I'm going to make sure no one asks for your number tomorrow," she whispered hot against your skin.
Before you could ask what she meant, her lips pressed hard against the sensitive skin of your neck.
She bit down softly, sucking firmly against your skin until you let out a soft gasp, her hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you to her.
The next afternoon, you were back at the broadcasting station for a music show pre-recording. You were walking down the hallway with a tray of iced coffees for the girls when you saw the same staff guy from yesterday walking toward you.
You internally groaned, bracing yourself for another annoying conversation. The guy opened his mouth to speak, smiling, but the moment his eyes landed on your neck, his face went completely pale. His jaw literally dropped, and his eyes widened in sheer shock.
"Uh... nevermind. Have a good day!" he stammered quickly, bowing abruptly before turning on his heel and literally sprinting down the hallway in the opposite direction.
You stood there, completely confused.
"What is wrong with him?" you muttered to yourself
You walked into aespa’s dressing room and set the coffees down. You walked over to the mirror to grab a hairbrush, and that's when you saw it.
Right on the left side of your neck was a massive, dark, undeniable purple hickey.
Your face flushed a violent shade of red. Oh my god. No wonder the guy ran away.
You slowly turned around. Sitting on the couch, sipping her iced americano, was Karina.
She was watching you through the mirror, and the moment she saw that you finally noticed, a massive, goofy, incredibly proud smile broke across her face.
She raised her cup to you, looking like a cat that just caught the canary.
You covered your neck with your hand, glaring at her with a mix of embarrassment and affection.
"Pabo," you muttered under your breath.
Karina just giggled, her eyes crinkling into small crescents, completely satisfied that the entire world now knew you were taken.
The city looks fake from up here. All the little red lights on the buildings blinking at the same rhythm like they're breathing. I've been standing at the window for I don't know how long. My feet hurt. My throat hurts. My back hurts in that specific place between my shoulder blades where the wire from the in-ear monitor pack sits during shows. Everything hurts and I don't want to sleep.
I keep telling myself I'll sleep after I write this down. That's the deal I make with myself now. Get it out of my head and into the phone and then close my eyes.
We finished the second Tokyo Dome show four hours ago. Ninety-four thousand people over two nights. Ninety-four thousand people screaming my name in a language I can speak fluently in and pretending I can't for the last two hours of my night.
Let me back up. I'm doing that thing again where I start in the middle. Focus.
The show was good. Really good, actually. I hit the high note in Supernova cleaner than I have all tour. Ningning cried during Melody and I saw her and almost cried too but I did the thing where I bite the inside of my cheek and it snapped me back. Winter squeezed my hand during the ment. She always knows when I'm about to lose it. She has this radar for me that nobody else has. I don't deserve her.
After the encore we did the standard routine. Wave, bow, wave again, exit stage right. Backstage was chaos as always — staff yelling into headsets, dancers stretching, our hair and makeup team already prepping the members for the after-show meet with the sponsors. I told our manager I had a migraine coming on. He believed me because I've been careful to complain about migraines throughout this tour so tonight wouldn't seem suspicious. I'm proud of that. That level of planning. Six weeks of laying the groundwork so tonight I could disappear cleanly.
Giselle asked if I wanted her to come back to the hotel with me. She had that look. The concerned unnie look even though she's younger than me. I said no, I just need to lie down in the dark. She hugged me and I hugged her back and I hate myself a little bit for how easy it is to lie to her.
Back to the hotel by 10:40. Room 4708. Suite because I'm the leader and SM always books me the biggest room like it's some kind of reward. I don't want a bigger room. A bigger room just means more empty space to be alone in.
I showered. I did my skincare. Full ten steps because that's the muscle memory. I put on the hotel robe. I ordered room service and canceled it before it arrived. I sat on the edge of the enormous bed for a while just breathing.
And then I did what I've been planning to do for six weeks.
I opened the bottom of my suitcase. There's a specific fold in the lining where I've been hiding the clothes. Black jeans that don't fit my public image — too baggy, too plain. A black hoodie two sizes too big, unbranded, bought online through a fake account and shipped to a mailbox I rent in Yongsan. A cheap cotton bra. No makeup. No accessories. A black cap and a KF94 mask and a pair of chunky sneakers that I picked because they make me look shorter than I actually am. Shorter is important. Shorter is invisible.
I've done this in five countries now.
That's the thing I keep circling around and not saying. Let me just say it. I've done this in five countries now.
Bangkok. Singapore. Los Angeles. Jakarta. And now Tokyo, again. The first time was Tokyo actually, back in February. I've done Tokyo twice.
I know the pattern. I know the way my hands shake putting the mask on. I know the specific fear of the elevator ride down where every floor that dings I think it's going to open and someone from the company will be standing there. It never has been. Not yet. The service elevator on this floor is at the end of the hall, past the ice machine. It goes down to a loading area and there's a side exit that puts you out on a small street with no cameras. I know because I mapped it the day we checked in. That's what I do the day we check in to any new hotel now. I map the exits.
I feel insane writing that. But it's just a fact. That's what I do now.
Out on the street it was still warm. Tokyo in August is disgusting. Humid. I walked six blocks before I felt safe enough to take the mask off. The mask always comes off first. Then I fix my hair under the cap. Then I let myself breathe.
By the time I got to Shinjuku, I was somebody else.
I want to write about her. The girl who exists in this hoodie and this cap and these sneakers. She doesn't have a name. I've never given her one because naming her would make her too real. But she's the one who walks into these places. Not me. Not Karina. Not Yu Jimin either. Someone in between them.
She walked into the bar I've been to before. The one behind the third alley off Kabukicho, past the karaoke place with the broken neon sign. It's underground, no windows. The bartender doesn't ask questions. Half the clientele are hiding from something. There's a specific etiquette in that place where nobody looks at anybody for longer than half a second.
She sat at the end of the bar. Ordered a highball. Waited.
Here's the part that I need to actually be honest about.
The waiting is the best part. Genuinely. The moment right after ordering the drink and before anyone approaches. That thirty or forty minutes of pure potential. Where the entire night could go a hundred different ways. Where I've made all the decisions I need to make — I've decided to leave the hotel, I've decided to come here, I've decided to be open to whatever happens — but nothing has actually happened yet. It's the freest I ever feel. Free-er than being on stage. Free-er than being in my own apartment. Because in that bar, sipping that drink, waiting, I am nobody's product. Nobody's investment. Nobody's leader. I am a body on a barstool with money in her pocket and nowhere to be until sound check at 2pm the next day.
Sometimes nobody approaches me and I go back to the hotel and I sleep like a stone. Those nights are okay too. The freedom is enough by itself.
But most nights someone approaches. Because I know how to sit in a way that says I'm available. That's a skill I've developed. It's not the same as sitting in an idol photoshoot. It's the opposite. You have to slouch. You have to look at your drink. You have to be alone in a way that reads as chosen loneliness rather than sad loneliness. Men understand the difference. They can smell it.
Tonight he approached at maybe 11:30. I was on my second drink. He sat two seats down first, which is the correct etiquette — you don't invade immediately. He ordered something. Then he asked in Japanese if the seat next to me was taken.
Here's where I did the thing.
I looked at him with a slightly confused expression. I tilted my head. I said in bad, broken Japanese: "Sumimasen... Nihongo... sukoshi."
I speak fluent Japanese. Business fluent. I've done Japanese interviews without an interpreter. I can read a menu, negotiate with a driver, order at a restaurant without missing a beat. My accent is good enough that Japanese people compliment it constantly.
But she doesn't speak Japanese. The girl in the hoodie. She's a tourist. She's Korean but she doesn't work here, she's just visiting, she barely knows how to say hello. Her English is okay but limited. She smiles a lot to compensate for what she can't say.
He switched to English. Broken English, but functional. He introduced himself. I'll call him T because I don't want to write his real name even here. He was maybe late thirties. Salaryman type but not the polished kind — the rumpled kind, tie loosened, hair a little messy, drinking away whatever his day had been. Not handsome. Not ugly. Utterly, blessedly, gloriously normal.
We talked for maybe an hour. I gave the girl a fake name. Not going to write it here either. I gave her a fake job — teacher. I gave her a fake reason for being in Tokyo — vacation, alone, four days, staying in a small hotel in a different neighborhood. Every detail I invented on the spot. I've gotten good at improvising the girl's life.
He was a little drunk. Not too drunk. Just loose. He touched my arm at one point when he was laughing at something I said. It didn't feel calculated. It felt automatic. That's the difference between the men who approach me at industry parties and the men who approach me in bars like this. Industry men touch you like they're testing your reaction. Bar men touch you like they've forgotten you're a person they just met.
I liked it.
I asked him — using the girl's broken English — if he lived nearby. He said yes. Small apartment. Very small. Not nice. I did the smile I've been practicing. The one that's not Karina's smile. Karina's smile is symmetrical and photogenic and stops at the lips. The girl's smile is uneven and shows too much of her top teeth and reaches her eyes because she doesn't care what she looks like.
I said "show me?"
He blinked. He asked "you sure?" in English.
Here's the thing about the language game. And this is what I want to actually write about because it's the piece I don't think I've admitted to myself before.
The language barrier is a lie. But the lie is what makes it work.
Because when he asked "you sure?" I did the confused-tourist face. I shrugged. I laughed nervously. I said "sorry, I don't... it's okay?" and let him interpret it however he wanted. And he interpreted it as consent, because of course he did, because I got up from the barstool and put on my jacket and looked at him expectantly.
But the whole night, from that moment forward, I had an out. I had a permanent, unshakeable out. Because if at any point I wanted to stop, I could just retreat into the language. I could pretend not to understand. I could freeze up and go blank and become the confused foreigner and any decent man would back off immediately.
I never use the out. That's the thing. I never have.
But knowing it's there is what lets me say yes to everything else.
His apartment was a fifteen minute walk. He held my hand on the way there and I let him. Tokyo at midnight in August smells like drain water and cigarette smoke and food from all the ramen shops still open. The neon reflected off the wet pavement. I remember thinking very clearly: this is a memory I'm going to think about during the flight home. This exact moment. His hand in mine. My breath through the mask still hanging around my neck. The specific way the street lights caught in the puddles.
I take these snapshots on purpose now. So I have things to think about later when I'm back in a boardroom or a green room or a livestream.
The apartment was tiny. Genuinely tiny. Maybe twenty square meters. A single room with a kitchenette in one corner and a futon rolled up against the wall and a small television on a low stand and a window that looked directly at another building three meters away. The bathroom door was open and I could see the shower was one of those combo tub-shower things with the plastic curtain that never fully closes.
I loved it. I loved every square inch of that terrible apartment. I loved that there was nothing in it worth photographing. I loved that there was no gift bag from a brand, no leftover album from a fansign, no framed award, no mirror ring light, no evidence anywhere that anybody had ever tried to package a life for public consumption. It was just a small room where a normal man lived a normal life and did normal things and would forget about tonight in a week.
He unrolled the futon. He asked if I wanted water. I said okay. He got me a glass from a shelf. The glass had a cartoon character on it — I think it was from a convenience store promotion, one of those things you get free with a bottle of soda. I drank the water while sitting cross-legged on his futon.
He sat next to me. He asked, in his broken English, if I was nervous.
I did the girl's shrug. I said "little bit."
He kissed me.
Okay. This part I'm going to write in detail because I don't want to be a coward about it. If I'm going to write this note at all I'm not going to soften it.
He kissed me and it was clumsy and his mouth tasted like whiskey and cigarettes and I hadn't kissed anyone in three months and my whole body reacted like I'd been electrocuted. I made a sound into his mouth that wasn't planned. He took that as encouragement. His hand went under the hoodie. Rough hands. Not calloused-rough, just dry, the way office men's hands get from too much hand sanitizer and cheap soap. He touched my stomach first, then my ribs, then my breast over the cheap bra I'd worn specifically because it was cheap and forgettable.
I let him take everything off. I want to be clear about this because it matters. I let him. I didn't participate in the undressing. I lay back on the futon in that ugly little apartment and I let him unwrap me piece by piece and I watched his face while he did it. He looked hungry. Not romantic. Not tender. Just hungry. Like I was food and he hadn't eaten in a long time.
That's what I go there for. To be looked at like that.
Nobody looks at me like that at home. At home I'm looked at like an asset. Like a schedule. Like a face on a magazine cover. In Tokyo, in a tiny apartment I'll never see again, a stranger looked at my naked body like it was the only thing in the world that mattered for the next hour.
I want to write about what he did but my hands are already shaking and I have to be careful.
He didn't ask about protection. He didn't reach for anything. I saw the moment he registered the question in his own head and I saw the moment he decided not to ask, and I did nothing to prompt him. I let it happen. That's on me. That's a choice I made by not making a choice.
I told myself if it becomes a real problem he'll pull out. He didn't.
He was inside me for what felt like a long time. I don't know how long actually. The lights were off except for the neon from the pharmacy across the street bleeding through the curtain — everything was a strange sick pink. He held my wrists above my head at one point and I said "please" in Korean because I forgot to be the girl for a second, and he didn't understand it, and I let him not understand it. He took it as encouragement. Everything I did or said or didn't say, he took as encouragement, because the language barrier gave him permission to interpret me however he wanted, and I gave him the barrier on purpose.
I came twice. The first time was quiet. I bit the inside of my wrist. The second time I didn't bother being quiet because I realized halfway through that the neighbors probably didn't speak Korean either and any sounds I made would just be noise in a language they couldn't identify. So I let myself be loud for the first time in I don't know how long. Actually loud. Not the controlled porn-star sounds I used to make with the one boyfriend I had during my trainee years. Just noise. Ugly noise. My real voice.
When he came he pressed his forehead against my collarbone and made a sound I'm going to remember for a while. Something halfway between a groan and an apology, like it wasn't planned, like he couldn't held back anymore. I felt everything. I felt him finish inside me and I felt him stay there for a few seconds catching his breath and I felt him pull out slowly and I felt the specific wet warmth spreading down my thigh onto the futon cover that he probably doesn't wash as often as he should.
He rolled onto his back next to me and stared at the ceiling and I stared at the ceiling too and neither of us said anything for maybe three minutes. That silence was the most honest conversation I've had in six months.
Eventually he asked, in the broken English, if I wanted to shower. I said yes. His shower was tiny and the water pressure was terrible and the soap was some drugstore brand that smelled like fake lavender and I stood under the lukewarm water and washed a stranger out of me while looking at his single toothbrush in the cup on the sink.
I got dressed while he was still in the futon. He offered to walk me back but I said no, I was fine, I'd call a taxi. I stepped over his clothes on the way to the door. He didn't ask for my number. I didn't offer. Both of us understood what this had been. Both of us were grateful, in our different ways, for the other's silence.
The walk to the taxi stand at Kabukicho was maybe eight minutes. I put the mask back on the second I hit the street. Back in the car I felt him leak out again onto my underwear and I stared out the window and I didn't feel guilty. That's the part that I keep coming back to. I have never felt guilty. Not after Bangkok, not after Los Angeles, not tonight. I feel other things — I feel exhausted, I feel electric, I feel like I've been holding my breath for months and I finally exhaled — but not guilt. And I've stopped waiting for the guilt to arrive because it's been five countries now and it hasn't shown up and I don't think it's going to.
I got back to the hotel at 01:48 through the same service exit I left from. Nobody saw me. Nobody ever does. Nobody in my life has any idea that this is a thing that I do.
Winter texted the group chat at some point during the night. She asked how my headache was. I just saw it. It's 03:39 now. I'll respond in the morning. I'll tell her it's better. I'll thank her for checking. She'll send a heart. I'll send one back.
I'm going to be in her wedding one day. That's a thing I think about. She's going to get married eventually because she's the type who will, and I'm going to be one of her bridesmaids, and I'm going to give a speech about how she's been my sister for over a decade, and every word of it will be true, and she will still not know that her leader used to disappear in foreign cities to fuck strangers who didn't speak her language.
I don't know if that makes me a good sister or a monster. Maybe both. Maybe those aren't as different as I used to think.
I have to sleep. I really do. I have media day at 11 and interviews all afternoon and then the flight to Fukuoka in the evening and another dome show the day after that. My body already hurts. My throat is going to be shot tomorrow. I'll drink honey water and do the exercises the vocal coach taught me and I'll be fine. I'm always fine. That's my whole thing.
Tomorrow we fly to another city. Another concert. Another thousands of peoples screaming my name. I wonder if there's a bar there too.
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The PUREFLOW tour was the peak of their careers a sold-out show in Incheon, a river of lightsticks, and the roar of fifty thousand voices. Backstage, the five members of LE SSERAFIM glowed with sweat and adrenaline. An exclusive VIP after-party was the reward, a chance to toast their most dedicated fans. The lounge was lavish, filled with bouquets and champagne.
The drinks were poured. Yunjin raised her glass first, her bright smile lighting up the room. Sakura laughed politely. Chaewon watched the five chosen winners, her leader instincts prickling, but the champagne was smooth and cold, and the men seemed harmless. Kazuha sipped daintily. Eunchae, the youngest, giggled nervously.
The drug hit them all within seconds.
It was tasteless, colorless, and powerful. Yunjin's smile froze. Her glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the marble floor. Sakura's legs buckled. Chaewon grabbed the table, knocking over flowers. Kazuha collapsed gracefully onto a plush sofa. Eunchae whimpered, reaching for her unnies as her vision swam.
The men locked the door. Cameras and phones came out, red recording lights blinking in the dim room. The masks of friendly obsession fell away, revealing the raw, gluttonous hunger beneath.
"The show's not over, girls," the tallest one said, grabbing Eunchae by her hair and dragging her across the floor. "Now the real fucking PUREFLOW begins."
Chaewon was the first to feel the full weight of their savagery. She was dragged over a man's lap, her jeans ripped down to her ankles. Her bare ass was exposed, pale and trembling in the cold air.
"The leader needs discipline," the man growled, raising his hand.
The first slap echoed through the room like a gunshot. Chaewon screamed. Red palm prints bloomed across her white skin. He spanked her over and over, his heavy palm ringing against her buttocks, turning them raw and crimson. She begged, but he didn't stop. When her ass was throbbing and bruised, he forced two thick fingers into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering as he hooked his digits into her cheek, pulling her jaw open. Drool dripped down her chin.
"You're going to take my cock like the good leader you are."
He threw her onto the floor, flipping her onto her back. Her legs were forced wide open. He knelt between them, his massive cock pressing against her tight, completely dry hole.
"No… please… it hurts…" she sobbed.
He didn't listen. He shoved his entire length into her in one brutal, tearing stroke. Chaewon's scream was a raw, agonized shriek that filled the room. Screaming. Her body arched violently, her breasts bouncing with each deep, punishing thrust. He fucked her hard, his balls slapping against her reddened ass. She cried uncontrollably, tears mixing with the mascara smeared across her face.
Her body betrayed her. An unwanted orgasm wracked her, making her legs kick and shake uncontrollably. She climaxed on his cock, her pussy dripping onto the floor while he continued to pound her ass without mercy.
Sakura was thrown onto a makeup couch, her face shoved into the cushions. Her stage outfit was torn away, revealing her smooth, pale skin. A man knelt behind her, running his rough hands over her round, perfect ass.
"The face of the group. Let's see how tight that Japanese ass really is."
He spanked her hard, his heavy palm ringing against her buttocks. She yelped, her body jolting with each blow. He grabbed her hips, pressing his erection against her tight entrance. He pushed in without warning. The pain was searing, her ring of muscle tearing as he forced his way inside. She bit into the cushion, muffling her agony.
The man leaned over her, wrapping his thick hand around her throat. He squeezed, cutting off the air to her windpipe.
"Look at me when I fuck you," he hissed.
He turned her head, forcing her terrified eyes to meet his as he choked her and rammed his cock into her ass over and over, bottoming out in her guts. Her vision blurred. Her struggles weakened. Her body went limp in his grip, her eyes rolling back as she slipped into blissful darkness.
He didn't stop.
He pulled her up by the waist, lifting her dead weight off the couch. He fucked her while carrying her around the room, bouncing her limp body on his rigid shaft. Her head lolled back, mouth wide open, as he used her unconscious form like a lifeless fucktoy. He grunted, unloading his thick cum deep inside her ruined ass before dropping her onto the floor.
Yunjin was a fighter. When the drugs hit, she was the last to fall, and the men had to drag her down. She bit one of them, drawing blood. They beat her for it, slapping her face until her lip split and she tasted copper. Her stage outfit was ripped to shreds.
A camera was shoved directly into her face. "Smile for the fans, Yunjin! You're a star!" The red light blinked, capturing every tear, every bruise.
A man pushed her to her knees. He grabbed her breasts, pinching her nipples until she shrieked. He leaned down, licking the sweat and tears from her neck. Then he bit her shoulder, hard, sinking his teeth into her flesh until purple marks bloomed on her skin.
"You taste so good," he muttered, nibbling on her earlobe.
Another man grabbed her arms, wrenching them back behind her shoulders in a brutal full nelson. He forced her body forward. The first man knelt in front of her, shoving his thick cock into her mouth, fucking her throat until she gagged and choked on his length.
The man behind her spread her ass cheeks, pressing his cock against her tight hole. She tried to scream around the dick in her throat.
He speared her. His long, thick shaft stretched her rectum wide, splitting her open.
Her legs shook violently. Spit and drool dripped from her chin. The camera zoomed in on her face—the utter humiliation, the pain. An unwanted orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clenching around nothing while her ass was brutally filled. She sobbed uncontrollably. They kept her in that full nelson, passing her between them, fucking her ass while the camera never stopped rolling.
Kazuha was bent into a mating press, her graceful ballerina legs forced back to her shoulders, her ass completely exposed and vulnerable.
"Such flexibility. It would be a waste not to use it."
A man leaned over her, biting her nipples, sucking them roughly. She was crying, her elegant voice reduced to desperate, broken pleas.
"Please… I'm begging you… I'll do anything…"
The man pressing her down ignored her. He slid his cock inside her ass. The pain was blinding, absolute. She felt like she was being split in half, her tight channel torn open. He didn't care. He fucked her with long, deep, powerful strokes, his full weight crushing her into the mat.
An unwanted orgasm shuddered through her violated body. Her legs shook, bound by his weight. He grunted, pumping his thick sperm deep into her sphincter, filling her completely before pulling out and watching his cum drip from her gaping hole.
Eunchae, the youngest, was saved for last. They gathered around her, a circle of hungry predators. She was curled up on the floor, crying, begging for her mother.
"Don't worry, maknae. We'll make you feel good."
They laid her on a dressing table, pinning her down. One man shoved three fingers into her tight, untouched asshole without warning. She screamed, a high-pitched, terrified sound that tore through the room.
"So tight! She's a real virgin back here!"
He stretched her roughly, fingering her while another man shoved his cock into her mouth, muffling her cries.
When they judged her loose enough, a man grabbed her arms, wrenching them behind her back in a brutal full nelson. He lifted her slightly, positioning himself. She was crying, sobbing uncontrollably.
"No, no, no, please… it hurts…"
He pushed. Her body arched, her back bowing as his thick cock invaded her rear passage, splitting her young, untouched hole open. The pain was too immense, too overwhelming. Her eyes rolled back, her body going slack as she passed out in his arms.
"She fainted. Perfect. Fuck the doll."
The men took turns on her unconscious body, using her as a lifeless vessel for their lust. They rolled her limp form over, pulling her legs apart, and fucked her ass while she was completely out. They pulled out, cumming on her face, her breasts, her ruined cunt. Others took her dead weight, pounding her raw ass until her legs shook in involuntary spasms.
The aftermath was a tableau of broken idols. Cum dripped from their violated asses onto the expensive carpet. The cameras stopped recording. The men zipped up their pants, exchanging phone files with satisfied grins.
"The best VIP package ever."
On the floor, Yunjin's legs were still shaking from another forced climax. Chaewon was curled in a fetal position, whimpering softly. Sakura lay sprawled unconscious across the arm of the couch, her asshole gaping and leaking. Kazuha was face-down, her body bruised and used. Eunchae was being wiped down with a towel by one of the men, her young body ravaged completely, her mind lost somewhere in the darkness.
The PUREFLOW tour merchandise glowed softly over the carnage. The fans left, their phones full of memories, leaving the five members of LE SSERAFIM broken and bleeding on the floor, their bodies destroyed by the brutal anal gangbang they never consented to.
Genres: Smut, Idol x Staff, Secret Affair, Power Imbalance (consensual), Fluffy AftercareTags/Warnings: 18+ explicit content, unprotected sex, oral (giving and receiving), titjob/titsfuck, handjobs, multiple positions, creampie, light dirty talk, Karina’s tits get a lot of attention (as they deserve). Pure fantasy.
Word: 1.1K+
Synopsis: As her personal manager, you’ve seen Karina at her most exhausted and most dazzling. But after a grueling comeback schedule, she offers you a very special kind of privilege—the kind that happens behind locked hotel doors when the cameras are off and she just wants to feel wanted for something other than the stage.
---
The hotel suite was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside the tall windows. Karina had just finished her final schedule of the day—a late-night radio interview that ran long. She looked stunning as always in her fitted black dress, but you could see the tiredness in the way she kicked off her heels the second the door closed.
“You were amazing tonight,” you said, locking the door behind you like always. “The way you handled those questions…”
Karina turned, a small smirk playing on her lips. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder. “Thanks. But I’m tired of being amazing for everyone else right now.” She stepped closer, fingers tracing the collar of your shirt. “I want to be selfish tonight. With you.”
Your pulse jumped. This thing between you had been building for months—stolen glances during van rides, late-night texts, the occasional brush of hands that lingered too long. Tonight felt different. Like she’d finally decided to stop holding back.
She pulled you into a kiss that started soft but quickly turned hungry. Her body pressed against yours, soft curves molding perfectly. You cupped her face, deepening the kiss until she sighed into your mouth. When you broke apart, her eyes were already hazy with want.
“Bedroom,” she whispered.
Clothes came off in a trail across the suite. By the time you reached the king-sized bed, she was in nothing but black lace panties, and you were down to your boxers. Karina pushed you onto your back and climbed on top, straddling your thighs. Her hands slid down your chest as she leaned in for another kiss.
She worked her way lower, kissing and nipping at your skin until she reached the waistband of your boxers. She tugged them down, freeing your cock—already hard and throbbing for her. Karina wrapped her elegant fingers around the base and gave a slow, teasing stroke.
“Been thinking about this,” she murmured, looking up at you through her lashes. She leaned down and took you into her mouth, warm and wet and perfect. Her head bobbed slowly at first, tongue swirling around the head, then faster. The sight of Karina—global it girl—sucking you off like this was almost too much. You groaned, hand gently threading through her hair.
She pulled off for a second, stroking you firmly with her hand while catching her breath. “You’re so big… love how you feel.” Then she was back on it, taking you deeper, jerking the base in time with her mouth until your hips were bucking up involuntarily.
You had to stop her before you finished too soon. “Karina—wait. Want to feel you.”
She smiled, wiping her lips. You flipped her onto her back and kissed down her body, paying special attention to her breasts. They were full and soft, nipples already hard. You sucked one into your mouth while kneading the other, drawing pretty moans from her. Then you positioned your cock between them.
“Fuck my tits,” she said breathlessly, pressing them together around you.
The feeling was incredible—soft, warm flesh enveloping you as you started thrusting. Karina looked up at you, tongue occasionally darting out to lick the tip when it got close to her mouth. You groaned at the sight, hips moving faster, the slick slide driving you crazy. She squeezed tighter, watching your face with dark, satisfied eyes.
“Gonna come if you keep that up,” you warned.
“Do it. On my chest.”
You did, spilling across her tits with a deep groan. She looked stunning covered in you—flushed and breathing hard. You grabbed a warm towel from the bathroom and cleaned her gently, but she pulled you back down before you could finish.
“I need you inside me,” she whispered.
You slid her panties off and spread her legs. She was soaked. You rubbed your cock against her folds before pushing in slowly, savoring every inch. Karina’s back arched, a soft gasp escaping as you bottomed out.
“Move… please.”
You started thrusting, deep and steady. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. The position let you kiss her while you fucked her—messy, open-mouthed kisses that matched the rhythm of your hips. You could feel her tightening around you already.
Switching things up, you pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach. She got on all fours, ass up, looking back at you over her shoulder with that signature Karina confidence mixed with need. You gripped her hips and slid back in, the new angle making her moan louder.
“Harder,” she demanded.
You gave it to her, pounding deep. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. You reached around to rub her clit, and she came hard, clenching around your cock with a cry of your name. You kept going, chasing your own release, then flipped her back over so you could see her face when you finally came inside her, filling her up as she trembled through the aftershocks.
You collapsed beside her, both of you sweaty and spent. Karina curled into your side immediately, head on your chest, one leg thrown over yours.
“Special privilege, huh?” you teased, running fingers through her hair.
She laughed softly, the sound tired but happy. “Only for you. Don’t let it go to your head, manager-nim.”
“Too late.” You kissed the top of her head. “But I’ve got you. Always.”
She hummed contentedly, tracing patterns on your stomach. The city lights twinkled outside while the two of you stayed tangled together, the weight of schedules and cameras forgotten for a few precious hours.
Genres: Fluffy Smut, Reunion Sex, Established Relationship, Idol x Boyfriend, Domestic Spice Tags/Warnings: 18+ explicit content, unprotected sex, creampie, lots of praise and affection, oral, titjob. Pure loving fantasy.
Synopsis: Karina’s been gone for three long weeks on tour. When she finally walks through the door late at night, exhausted but happy, all either of you want is to reconnect—slow, sweet, and desperately needed. Sometimes coming home means remembering exactly how perfectly you fit together.
---
The apartment was dark except for the single lamp you’d left on. You’d been half-asleep on the couch when the door clicked open. Three weeks felt like forever when it was Karina on the other side of the world.
She stepped in quietly, suitcase abandoned by the door, and the moment she saw you sitting up, her whole face lit up. “Hi, baby.”
You crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into your arms. She smelled like airport perfume and the faint trace of her favorite vanilla body wash. “You’re home.”
“I’m home,” she whispered, melting against you. Her hands slid under your shirt like she needed to feel skin immediately. “Missed you so much it hurt.”
You kissed her then—soft at first, then deeper, pouring in all the lonely nights and early morning texts. Karina sighed into your mouth, fingers threading through your hair as she pressed closer. There was no rush. Just relief and love and that familiar spark that always burned hotter when she came back.
“Bed?” she asked against your lips.
“Bed.”
You walked there without letting go, shedding clothes along the way. By the time you reached the mattress she was in just her panties, you in your boxers. You laid her down gently, hovering over her like she was something precious. Because she was.
“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, kissing down her neck. “My pretty girl.”
Karina’s breath hitched when you reached her chest. Her tits were full and soft, nipples already pebbled. You took your time, sucking one into your mouth while kneading the other, drawing those sweet little sounds you’d missed so much. She arched into you, back curving gracefully.
“Missed your mouth on me,” she admitted, voice breathy.
You spent long minutes worshiping her chest before sliding lower. But tonight she had other plans. Karina gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your thighs, peeling your boxers down. Your cock sprang free, hard and aching for her.
She wrapped her hand around you first, stroking slowly, lovingly. “So hard already… all for me?” Her thumb circled the head, spreading the precum that had leaked out.
“Only you.”
She smiled softly and leaned down, taking you into her warm mouth. The feeling was heaven after weeks without it. Karina gave the kind of blowjobs that felt like affection—wet, enthusiastic, with lots of eye contact. She bobbed her head, taking more each time, while her hand jerked the base in perfect rhythm.
“Fuck, Karina… you’re so good.”
She hummed around you, the vibration making your toes curl. After a few minutes she pulled off and shifted, pressing her tits together around your cock. You groaned at the sight. She started moving, sliding you between her soft breasts while looking up at you with those dark, loving eyes.
“Like this?” she asked, almost shy.
“Perfect. You’re perfect.”
You thrust gently between her tits, the glide smooth and warm. Every so often she’d lean down and lick the tip, tasting you. The combination of her hands, mouth, and chest had you getting close embarrassingly fast.
But you didn’t want to finish there. You pulled her up gently and flipped you both so she was underneath again. You kissed her deeply as you hooked your fingers in her panties and slid them off. She was soaked.
You rubbed your cock against her folds, teasing her clit until she was whimpering. “Please… need you inside.”
You pushed in slowly, savoring every inch. Karina’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping as you bottomed out. You stayed there for a moment, foreheads pressed together, just feeling each other.
“I love you,” you whispered.
“I love you too,” she breathed. “Now move, baby.”
You started slow, deep thrusts that made her toes curl. Missionary so you could watch her face—every flutter of her lashes, every bitten lip. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper. The room filled with soft sounds: skin meeting skin, her quiet moans, your praises.
“You feel so good… so tight for me.”
“Harder,” she gasped after a while. “I can take it.”
You picked up the pace, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out. One of your hands found hers, fingers intertwining as you fucked her. The other played with her clit until she came hard around you, clenching and shaking, moaning your name like a prayer.
You kept going, drawing it out for her, then flipped her onto her stomach. She got on all fours, pushing her ass back against you needily. You slid back in from behind, gripping her hips as you thrust deep. The new angle made her tremble again.
One hand reached around to rub her clit while you fucked her, the other squeezing her breast. She came a second time with a muffled cry into the pillow.
When you felt yourself getting close, you flipped her back to missionary because you needed to see her face. You buried yourself as deep as possible and came hard, filling her up with pulse after pulse. Karina held you tight through it, kissing your neck and whispering how much she loved feeling you come inside her.
You stayed connected for a long time afterward, catching your breath together. Eventually you pulled out carefully and brought a warm towel to clean her up. She caught your wrist and pulled you back down instead.
“Just hold me first,” she murmured.
You did, wrapping her in your arms. She curled into you like she always did after sex, leg thrown over yours, head on your chest.
“Three weeks is too long,” she said sleepily. “Next tour you’re coming with me. I don’t care what we have to do.”
You laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. “Deal.”
The city hummed outside the window, but in here it was just the two of you—warm skin, quiet breathing, and the kind of love that made every separation worth the return.
Karina was already drifting off, a small smile on her lips. You followed soon after, happier than you’d been in weeks.
Genres: Smut, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Idol x Gamer Boyfriend Tags/Warnings: 18+ explicit content, gaming room sex, surprise visit, riding (chair), bent over desk, missionary on couch, oral, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, light teasing, multiple orgasms. Pure fantasy.
Synopsis: Chaewon decides to surprise her boyfriend after a long week of schedules. She finds him deep in a gaming session in his apartment’s setup room, headphones on and focused. But she’s in the mood to steal his attention, and the gaming chair ends up getting more action than the keyboard.
The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of PC fans and occasional clicks of a mechanical keyboard. You were locked in, headset on, trying to carry your team through a ranked match that was going sideways. It had been a long day, and gaming was your way to unwind.
You didn’t hear the front door open. Didn’t hear the soft footsteps padding down the hall. Only when a pair of small hands slid over your shoulders and covered your eyes did you jump.
“Guess who?” a familiar sweet voice whispered right next to your ear.
You yanked the headset off, spinning the chair around. Chaewon stood there in an oversized hoodie (yours, of course) and tiny shorts, hair loose and a playful smile on her face. She looked ridiculously cute and way too tempting for someone who was supposed to be exhausted from practice.
“Baby? What are you doing here?” You pulled her into your lap immediately, hands settling on her waist. “I thought you had schedules until late.”
“I finished early and missed you.” She leaned in, kissing you softly at first, then deeper, like she’d been thinking about this the whole ride over. “And I know you’ve been glued to this chair all week. Figured you needed a visitor.”
Her hips shifted in your lap, grinding lightly against you. The match was still going in the background, but you couldn’t care less. You muted the mic, kissed her harder, hands sliding under the hoodie to find she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“Naughty girl,” you murmured against her lips.
Chaewon giggled, nipping at your bottom lip. “Only for you.”
She pushed the chair back a bit so she could stand and strip the hoodie off in one smooth motion. Her perfect tits and smooth skin filled your vision. You leaned forward, sucking one nipple into your mouth while palming the other. Chaewon sighed happily, fingers threading through your hair.
She tugged your shirt off next, then dropped to her knees between your spread legs. Your sweatpants came down easily, and she wrapped her small hand around your cock, stroking slowly before taking you into her warm mouth. Chaewon gave the best head—eager, sloppy, eyes looking up at you the whole time. She bobbed deeper, tongue swirling, until you were groaning and gripping the armrests.
“Fuck, Chae…”
She pulled off with a wet pop, stroking you firmly. “I want to ride you right here. In your precious gaming chair.”
You didn’t argue. She climbed back into your lap, facing you, and sank down slowly onto your cock. The stretch made her moan softly, forehead pressed to yours. Once she was fully seated, she started moving—slow rolls of her hips at first, then faster bounces. The chair creaked under you both, wheels rolling slightly on the floor mat.
Chaewon braced her hands on your shoulders, riding you like she owned the room. Her tits bounced with every movement, and you couldn’t stop touching them, pinching her nipples, sucking marks into her neck. She felt incredible, tight and wet, clenching around you every time she came down.
“You’re so deep like this,” she gasped, grinding her clit against you. “Missed this so much.”
You gripped her ass, helping her bounce faster. The sounds of her moans mixed with the faint game audio still playing through the headset on the desk. When she got close, you reached between you and rubbed her clit. Chaewon came hard, shuddering in your lap, pussy pulsing around your cock as she buried her face in your neck.
But she wasn’t done.
She climbed off on shaky legs, turned around, and bent over your desk, pushing some of the peripherals aside. “Like this now.”
You stood up, lined yourself up, and thrust back into her from behind. The new angle was even better. You fucked her steady and deep, one hand in her hair, the other on her hip. Chaewon pushed back to meet every thrust, moaning louder.
“Harder, baby. I can take it.”
You spanked her lightly and picked up the pace, the desk shaking under her. She came again like that, legs trembling, crying out your name. You pulled out, spun her around, and lifted her onto the desk properly. Papers and a mousepad fell to the floor as you spread her legs and slid back inside.
Missionary on the desk now—your favorite. You could see her face, kiss her whenever you wanted. Chaewon wrapped her legs around your waist, pulling you deeper. You thrust hard, the wet slap of skin filling the small gaming room.
“Gonna cum inside you,” you groaned.
“Please. Fill me up.”
You buried yourself deep and let go, pumping cum into her as she clenched around you through her own final orgasm. The release left both of you breathless, sweaty, and glowing.
You stayed connected for a long minute, kissing lazily while your heart rates came down. Eventually you pulled out, watching your cum drip down her thighs with a satisfied smirk. Chaewon laughed softly and swatted your chest.
“Don’t look so proud of yourself.”
“Can’t help it when you show up looking like that.” You helped her off the desk, then carried her over to the small couch in the corner of the room. She curled into your side immediately, tracing patterns on your chest.
“Take a break from the game tonight?” she asked, voice sleepy and content.
“Yeah. You’re way better than ranked matches anyway.”
She smiled against your skin, pressing a kiss right over your heart. “Good answer. I might visit more often if this is the welcome I get.”
You held her closer, fingers running through her soft hair. The PC fans kept humming, the monitor still glowing with the paused game, but none of it mattered. Having Chaewon here, warm and satisfied in your arms, was the only win you needed tonight.
Later you’d order food, maybe watch something together, but for now the gaming room felt a lot less like a solo space and a lot more like home.
Genres: Smut, Incest (Mother/Daughter), Family Roleplay, Threesome, Domestic Kink Tags/Warnings: 18+ explicit content, incest fantasy, mother/daughter/daddy dynamic, unprotected sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, pussy eating, double blowjob, facefuck, daddy kink, various threesome positions, creampie, cum on faces, dirty talk. Pure fantasy.
Synopsis: After a long week, the three of you settle into a cozy evening at home. What starts as innocent family cuddling on the couch slowly turns into something much more intimate as Yujin and Rei decide it’s time for some special “family bonding” with Daddy.
The living room was warm and softly lit, the TV playing some random variety show in the background that none of them were really watching. Yujin sat on the big couch with her legs tucked under her, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely covered her thighs. Rei was curled up beside her, head resting on her mother’s shoulder, dressed in tiny sleep shorts and a thin tank top that clung to her perky chest.
You sat in the middle, arms around both of them, feeling their warmth pressed against your sides. It had become their favorite way to unwind lately—close, comfortable, and full of quiet affection that always seemed to spark into something hotter.
Yujin tilted her head up first, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. “Long week, Daddy?” she murmured, her hand sliding across your chest.
Rei looked up too, her big eyes sparkling with that playful innocence she knew drove you crazy. “We missed you,” she added sweetly, nuzzling closer until her breasts pressed against your arm.
You pulled them both tighter, one hand resting on Yujin’s waist while the other stroked Rei’s thigh. “Missed my girls too.”
The atmosphere shifted slowly, like it always did. Yujin’s hand drifted lower, tracing circles over your stomach before palming the growing bulge in your pants. Rei watched with parted lips, then leaned in to kiss your neck, her small hand joining her mother’s.
“Looks like Daddy’s happy to see us,” Yujin teased, squeezing you gently through the fabric.
Rei giggled softly and slid off the couch, kneeling between your legs. Yujin followed right after, both of them looking up at you with matching hungry expressions. They worked together to pull your cock free, hard and throbbing already.
“Such a big, pretty cock,” Rei whispered, almost reverently. She leaned in first, licking a slow stripe from base to tip before taking the head into her warm mouth. Yujin smiled and joined her, their tongues sliding together along your shaft in perfect sync.
The sight of mother and daughter sharing your cock was incredible. They took turns sucking you deeper, lips brushing against each other in sloppy, wet kisses around your length. Yujin took you into her throat while Rei licked and sucked on your balls, then they switched. Their soft moans and the wet sounds filled the living room.
“Fuck, my good girls,” you groaned, threading your fingers through their hair.
Yujin pulled off with a pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. “Want to make Daddy feel really good tonight,” she said, voice husky. She stood up and stripped off her shirt, revealing her full, beautiful breasts. Rei followed, peeling off her tank top and shorts, leaving both of them naked.
You pulled them back onto the couch, positioning Yujin on your lap facing you. She sank down onto your cock with a long moan, her tight pussy swallowing every inch. Rei straddled one of your thighs, grinding her wet little cunt against you while leaning in to kiss her mother.
They moved together beautifully. Yujin rode you slowly at first, rolling her hips while Rei kissed her deeply, their tongues sliding together. You reached between them, sliding two fingers into Rei’s soaked pussy, curling them just right. She whimpered into her mother’s mouth, grinding harder against your hand.
“So wet for Daddy already,” you murmured, thrusting up into Yujin while fingering Rei faster.
Rei came first, trembling as she squirted over your fingers and thigh with a cute, broken moan. Yujin followed soon after, clenching tight around your cock as she rode out her orgasm.
You lifted Yujin off and laid her on the couch, spreading her legs wide. Leaning down, you buried your face between her thighs, licking and sucking on her pussy while Rei watched with dark eyes. You ate Yujin hungrily, tongue fucking her until she was moaning loudly and gripping your hair.
Rei couldn’t stay still. She climbed over her mother in a sixty-nine position, lowering her pussy onto Yujin’s face while taking your cock back into her mouth. The sounds of wet licking and sucking filled the room as mother and daughter pleasured each other.
You stood up and positioned yourself behind Rei, sliding your cock into her tight pussy in one smooth thrust. She moaned loudly around her mother’s clit. You fucked her steadily, one hand reaching down to rub Yujin’s clit while she licked her daughter.
The chain of pleasure was overwhelming. Rei came again, squirting around your cock as her legs shook. You pulled out and moved to Yujin, thrusting deep into her while Rei sat on her mother’s face.
After switching between them a few more times, you felt your own release building.
“On your knees, both of you,” you commanded.
Yujin and Rei dropped to the floor immediately, side by side, looking up at you with open mouths and tongues out. You stroked your cock fast, groaning as you came hard across both of their pretty faces—thick ropes of cum landing on their cheeks, lips, and tongues.
They kissed each other sloppily, sharing your load before swallowing what they could.
You pulled them up onto the couch, holding both of your girls close as they cuddled into your chest, bodies flushed and satisfied.
“Best family bonding,” Rei whispered sleepily, pressing a kiss to your neck.
Yujin smiled against your shoulder. “And we’re just getting started tonight, Daddy.”
You kissed the top of both their heads, already feeling the heat building again between the three of you.
The three of you stayed tangled on the couch for a few minutes, hands lazily stroking skin as breathing slowly returned to normal. But the hunger in the air hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown stronger.
Yujin shifted first, turning to kiss you deeply while Rei watched with flushed cheeks. Then Yujin pulled her daughter closer, guiding the younger girl’s face toward yours. You kissed Rei slow and sweet at first, then deeper as Yujin’s hand wrapped around your cock again, stroking you back to full hardness.
“Want Daddy in both of us tonight,” Yujin murmured against your ear.
They moved together like they’d done this many times before. Yujin laid back on the wide couch, pulling Rei on top of her so their bodies pressed together, breasts rubbing and legs intertwined. You knelt behind them, taking in the beautiful sight of mother and daughter stacked for you.
You rubbed your cock along both of their wet pussies, sliding between their slick folds. Rei whimpered when the head bumped her clit. You pushed into Yujin first, giving her several deep thrusts while fingering Rei at the same time. Then you switched, sliding into Rei’s tighter heat while rubbing Yujin’s swollen clit.
Both of them moaned beautifully, grinding against each other as you alternated between their pussies. The wet sounds and their shared whimpers filled the living room.
You gripped Rei’s hips and started fucking her properly, deep and steady. Yujin reached between them to rub her daughter’s clit while kissing her neck. Rei came hard within minutes, squirting over your cock and dripping down onto her mother’s pussy.
You pulled out and thrust back into Yujin, pounding her while Rei recovered. The older woman’s pussy clenched beautifully around you, her moans muffled as she kissed Rei passionately.
After a while, you had them switch positions. Rei laid on her back with her legs spread wide. Yujin climbed on top in a sixty-nine again, lowering her pussy onto her daughter’s eager mouth while taking your cock back into hers. You fucked Yujin’s face gently at first, then deeper as she moaned around you, the vibrations traveling straight through your body.
Rei licked her mother’s pussy enthusiastically, occasionally letting her tongue brush against your balls when you thrust deep. The pleasure was intense. You facefucked Yujin with controlled strokes while she sucked greedily, tears of pleasure forming in her eyes.
You pulled out of her mouth and moved behind Rei, sliding into her again while she continued eating her mother out. The new angle made Rei moan loudly into Yujin’s pussy, sending shivers through the older woman.
The chain was perfect. You fucked Rei harder, reaching around to rub her clit until she came again, her cries muffled against her mother. Yujin followed right after, grinding down on Rei’s face as she trembled through her orgasm.
You needed more.
You pulled them both up and bent Yujin over the arm of the couch. Rei knelt beside her, and you took turns fucking them from behind—thrusting deep into one for several strokes before switching to the other. Their moans mixed together beautifully as you claimed them both.
Finally, you had them kneel in front of you again. This time you didn’t hold back. You facefucked them in turns, sliding deep into their throats while they looked up at you with watery, adoring eyes.
“Daddy’s close,” you groaned.
Both girls opened their mouths wide, tongues out, pressing their cheeks together. You stroked yourself fast and came with a deep groan, painting their faces with thick ropes of cum once again. Some landed on their tongues, some across their cheeks and chins. They kissed deeply right after, sharing your load messily before licking each other clean.
Exhausted but glowing, the three of you collapsed back onto the couch in a warm pile of limbs. Yujin rested her head on your chest while Rei curled up against your other side, both of them tracing lazy patterns on your skin with their fingers.
The night was still young, and the way their bodies pressed against yours told you they weren’t nearly done asking for more of Daddy’s attention.
Yujin lifted her head from your chest after a while, her eyes dark with renewed desire. She kissed you slowly, then turned to Rei, pulling her daughter into a deep, sensual kiss right above you. Their tongues danced together, soft moans spilling between them as their hands began to wander again—over each other’s breasts, down their stomachs, and finally between their thighs.
You watched them pleasure each other for a moment, stroking your cock slowly as it hardened once more. Yujin slipped two fingers into Rei’s pussy, curling them while Rei did the same to her mother. The wet sounds and their shared whimpers were incredibly arousing.
“Come here, Daddy,” Yujin whispered, breaking the kiss. “We want you inside us again.”
You positioned yourself behind them as they stayed on their sides facing each other. You slid into Yujin first, fucking her with long, deep strokes while she continued fingering Rei. Then you pulled out and thrust into Rei, keeping the rhythm steady. Switching between their tight, soaking pussies felt addictive.
Rei came first again, moaning into her mother’s mouth as her body shook. You kept fucking her through it before moving back to Yujin, pounding harder until she clenched around you and came with a beautiful cry.
You pulled them into a new position. Yujin laid on her back with Rei on top in reverse, facing you. You slid into Rei’s pussy while Yujin licked where you two were joined, her tongue teasing both her daughter’s clit and your shaft. The sensation was overwhelming.
Rei rode you eagerly, her small tits bouncing as she moved. You reached down to rub her clit while Yujin sucked on your balls whenever you pulled back. The pleasure built fast and intense.
After Rei came again, squirting over your cock and her mother’s face, you had them switch. Now Yujin was on top, riding you reverse while Rei sat on your face. You licked and sucked on Rei’s pussy hungrily while her mother bounced on your cock.
The room filled with their moans and the wet sounds of sex. You gripped Yujin’s hips, thrusting up into her hard as Rei ground down on your tongue.
You felt your orgasm approaching again. “Daddy’s gonna cum,” you groaned into Rei’s pussy.
Yujin quickly climbed off and both girls knelt in front of you once more. They pressed their faces together, mouths open and tongues out, looking up at you with pure devotion.
You stroked yourself fast and released across both of their faces again, thick cum covering their cheeks, lips, and tongues. They kissed sloppily afterward, sharing everything before licking each other clean.
Completely spent for the moment, the three of you moved to the bedroom. You lay in the middle of the big bed with Yujin curled against your right side and Rei against your left. Their bodies were warm and soft, sticky with sweat and cum, but neither seemed to care.
Yujin traced circles on your chest while Rei nuzzled into your neck, her small hand resting possessively on your stomach.
“Love you, Daddy,” Rei whispered sleepily.
“Love you both,” you murmured, kissing their heads.
Yujin smiled against your skin. “We’re not done with you yet. After we rest a little… we want you to fuck us together again.”
The promise hung in the air as the three of you drifted in a warm, satisfied haze, bodies tangled together under the sheets. The night was far from over, and your two beautiful girls were already thinking about the next round of family bonding.
After a short rest filled with soft kisses and gentle touches, the heat between you three flared up again. Yujin moved first, straddling your hips while Rei watched with hungry eyes. She sank down onto your cock slowly, taking every inch with a deep moan. Her hips rolled in smooth, sensual waves as she rode you, her full breasts bouncing gently.
Rei climbed up and sat on your face again, facing her mother. You licked her eagerly, tongue diving deep while Yujin leaned forward to kiss her daughter. The two of them made out passionately above you as they both used your body for pleasure.
You thrust up into Yujin harder, making her break the kiss with a gasp. Rei ground down on your tongue, her small whimpers mixing with her mother’s louder moans. The sight and sounds were perfect.
After Yujin came hard around your cock, you flipped their positions. Rei took her turn riding you while Yujin sat on your face. You devoured the older woman’s pussy, sucking on her clit while Rei bounced eagerly on your length.
The pleasure built rapidly. You gripped Rei’s hips and fucked up into her until she cried out, squirting over your cock. Yujin came right after, soaking your face as she trembled.
You needed to finish strong.
You had them both kneel on all fours side by side on the bed, asses up and pussies dripping. You took turns fucking them deep and hard from behind—thrusting into Yujin for several powerful strokes, then switching to Rei’s tighter heat. Their moans filled the bedroom as they pushed back against you, begging for more.
“Daddy… please cum inside us,” Yujin gasped.
You fucked Rei harder, then switched to Yujin, pounding deep until you finally reached your limit. With a deep groan, you buried yourself inside Yujin first, filling her pussy with thick ropes of cum. You pulled out and thrust into Rei immediately after, giving her the rest of your load as well.
Both girls collapsed forward, cum leaking from their well-fucked pussies. You gently cleaned them up with a warm towel, then pulled them into your arms in the center of the bed.
Yujin and Rei curled up against you, one on each side, their heads resting on your chest. Their bodies were flushed, marked with love bites and fingerprints, but their faces showed pure contentment.
“Best family bonding ever,” Rei whispered tiredly, pressing a soft kiss to your chest.
Yujin smiled and nuzzled closer. “We should do this every weekend, Daddy.”
You held them both tightly, kissing the tops of their heads as their breathing slowly evened out. The three of you drifted off to sleep tangled together—warm, satisfied, and completely connected in the most intimate way possible.
In the quiet darkness of the bedroom, the only sounds were their soft breathing and the occasional contented sigh. Your two precious girls were safe and loved in your arms, exactly where they belonged.
I lock onto her the second she steps off the escalator. That stupid “I ♥ HOME” hoodie—like she’s advertising how fucking naive she is. The ponytail bounces with every step, that doll hair tie mocking me, begging to be yanked. I blend into the crowd, keeping just enough distance. She stops at a kiosk selling phone charms, fingers tracing over cheap plastic. I’m already hard.
She moves deeper into the mall, past a food court where the smell of grease makes my stomach churn. I watch her from behind a pillar as she checks her phone, oblivious. The fabric of those striped shorts hugs her ass just right. My cock twitches. Soon.
She takes a detour toward the less crowded wing—the one with the overpriced furniture store and the hallway to employee-only areas. Stupid girl. Doesn’t she know malls are built like traps? Dead ends everywhere. I quicken my pace, closing the gap.
“Excuse me.” My voice is calm, friendly. She turns, a polite smile already forming. “I think you dropped this?” I hold out a dummy earring I palmed earlier.
Her brow furrows. “Oh, I don’t think that’s mine… but thanks.” She’s too trusting. I step closer, into her space.
“Are you sure? Bang Jeemin?” I let her name slide off my tongue like candy. Her eyes widen.
“How do you know my name?”
My hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist. “I know everything about you, baby. Every post. Every photo. Every place you like to shop.” I twist her arm behind her back and shove her toward the employee hallway. The door swings shut behind us.
She struggles, but I’m bigger. I slam her against the concrete wall, my forearm across her throat. “Scream and I’ll break your jaw. Nod if you understand.” She nods, tears welling.
I shove my hand under her hoodie, pinching her nipple through her bra. She gasps, and I squeeze harder. “Been dreaming about these tits. Fucking perfect.” I pull her bra down, exposing her. I lean in and bite her nipple—hard. She whimpers.
“Shh, shh. You love this. You just don’t know it yet.” My fingers slide down, hiking her shorts up. I shove my hand inside her panties. She’s already wet. Traitor body. I push two fingers into her pussy without warning. Her back arches, a choked sob escaping.
“That’s it. Take it.” I pump into her, my thumb circling her clit. Her legs start shaking. I add a third finger, stretching her. “Gonna cum for me? Yeah, you are.” She convulses, first orgasm ripping through her. I don’t stop. I pull out and shove those same fingers into her mouth. She gags.
“Taste yourself.” I hold her jaw, forcing her to suck. Then I yank her shorts down fully, spin her around, and bend her over my knee. My palm comes down on her bare ass—crack. A red handprint blooms. Crack, crack. She’s sobbing now, but I don’t care. My fingers find her asshole, pushing in dry. She screams into her own hand.
I pull her up and throw her onto a stacked display of cardboard boxes. She lands on her back. I’m on her in seconds, ripping my jeans open. My cock springs out, thick and leaking. I line up with her cunt and slam in. No foreplay. No mercy.
Her mouth opens in a silent scream. I grab her throat and squeeze. “Look at me. Look at who’s fucking you.” Her vision blurs. I thrust harder, deeper, the sound of wet skin filling the hallway. I wrap her legs over my shoulders—missionary. Then I lift her, still inside her, carrying her as I walk. She bobs on my cock with every step, half-conscious.
I lower her onto a loading dock bench, flipping her onto her stomach. Full nelson—I hook my arms under hers, locking behind her head, fucking up into her from below. Her legs dangle, shaking violently. I shift again, lifting her legs up by her ankles—piledriver. Her ass is in the air, her head on the floor. Gravity forces me deeper. She gurgles.
Second orgasm hits her, then third—I feel her clench and pulse around me. Her eyes roll back. I don’t stop. I slap her face. “Stay with me. You’re gonna take every drop.”
I pound into her until I feel my own release building. I pull out just long enough to shove my fingers back into her pussy, then inside her ass, then back to her pussy—multitasking her holes. She’s a mess. Drool, tears, cum leaking out of her.
I flip her onto her back one last time, mount her, and fuck her raw until I’m spilling deep inside her. “Breed you. Fucking breed you full.” I press my weight down, my hand back on her throat. I squeeze until her struggling stops, until she goes limp.
I check her pulse. Still there. Good.
I pull a heavy-duty body bag from my backpack—I came prepared. I roll her inside, zip it up to her neck. Her head lolls, unconscious. I drag her out the service exit, into the parking garage.
But I’m not done. Not yet. I want her seen.
I drive her to the rooftop of a nearby abandoned building. I set up a chair, tie her to it, hogtied—wrists bound to ankles behind her back. Her hoodie is pulled up, shorts gone. Just her bra and panties, torn. I position her facing the skyline. A display.
I take photos. Then I wait for her to wake up.
I watch her eyelids flutter. The drug is wearing off, but she's still groggy, still trying to piece together what happened. Her wrists strain against the zip ties binding her ankles to her wrists behind the chair. The position forces her chest forward, her tits spilling out of the torn bra. A strand of drool hangs from her lips.
I step into her line of sight. Her eyes focus, then widen with horror. She tries to scream, but her throat is raw—only a raspy croak comes out.
"Welcome back, baby girl."
I circle behind her. My hand grabs her ponytail, yanking her head back. I press my cock against her cheek, slapping it across her face. "You missed the first round. But don't worry. I saved the best for last."
I walk to the front of the chair, grab her jaw, and force my cock past her lips. She gags instantly, tears streaming. I don't slow down. I fuck her throat, her nose pressed against my pelvis, her muffled chokes filling the empty rooftop. I hold her there until she starts turning blue, then pull out just enough for her to gasp air before shoving back in.
"No swallowing," I growl, pulling out fully. I stroke myself over her face, painting her cheeks, her forehead, her closed eyes with ropes of cum. She sputters, some of it dripping into her mouth anyway.
I wipe my cock on her hair and walk away. Leave her there, blind and sticky, for ten minutes. The sun is setting. The city lights flicker on below us. No one can see us up here. No one hears her pathetic whimpers.
I come back with a length of rope. I cut the zip ties and force her onto her hands and knees on the gravel roof. The sharp stones dig into her palms. I tie her wrists together, then loop the rope around her ankles, pulling them back until her feet are bound to her wrists—arched back, her cunt exposed to the sky.
I kneel behind her and spread her ass cheeks. I spit on her asshole, then shove my thumb in without warning. She screams, full-throated this time. I work my thumb in and out, then add a second finger, stretching her. Her whole body trembles.
"Never had anything in here, have you? Fucking tight." I pull my fingers out and replace them with my cock. I press the head against her asshole and push. She screams again, her body trying to buck away, but the ropes hold her in place. I force my way in inch by inch, feeling her sphincter fight me, then give.
"Fuck, yes." I grab her hips and start fucking her ass. Slow at first, then faster, harder. The sound of my pelvis slapping against her is obscene. She's crying, drooling onto the gravel. I reach around and find her clit, rubbing rough circles while I pound into her ass.
Her legs start shaking. That traitor body of hers responding again. "Yeah, cum on my cock. Cum from getting your asshole destroyed." She does—a violent, shuddering orgasm that makes her go limp. I keep fucking her through it.
I pull out and flip her onto her back. She's barely conscious. I lift her legs onto my shoulders and line up with her pussy, still slick with my cum from earlier. I slam in. She gags, a broken sound. I grab her throat with both hands this time and squeeze.
"What's my name?" I hiss.
She can't answer. Her eyes are rolling back. I squeeze harder, feeling her windpipe compress under my thumbs. Her hands flutter weakly against my wrists. I fuck her faster, deeper, wilder—her body convulsing beneath me. I release her throat just long enough for a breath, then clamp down again.
I feel her pussy clamp around me—unconscious orgasm. Her body keeps milking me even as she slips away. I roar and empty myself into her, pumping load after load deep into her womb.
I fall forward, catching myself on my elbows, breathing hard. She's out cold. Again.
I sit back and look at her. Bruises forming on her neck. Cum leaking out of both holes. Her doll hair tie still intact, the plastic doll face smiling up at the sky.
I pull her body off the chair and drag her to the edge of the rooftop. Below, the parking lot of a convenience store. I can see people walking in and out.
I pull out my phone and dial 911, muffling my voice with my hand.
"Some girl on the rooftop of the old Meridian Building. Looks like she's been attacked. Hurry."
I hang up. I won't be here when they arrive. But I'll be watching from the crowd. I always do.
I drag her back from the edge, just enough so she'll be found but not seen from the street. I untie her wrists, leave her spread-eagled on the gravel, naked, cum-covered, unconscious.
I take one last picture of her lying in the sunset. Then I disappear down the fire escape.
With the members having a secret meeting with VIPs to sign another contract to get out of ADOR.
Just to get drugged, filmed & have their virginity taken away.
Enjoy!
Downfall Of NewJeans
TW: NON-CON | Don't Like It, Don't Read It.
NewJeans × M!Reader
Five little birds in their pressed blazers and expensive skirts, trying to look like they belong in a boardroom. They think they're negotiating a better contract. They think they're escaping the clutches of ADOR. They don't know they're walking into a slaughterhouse.
Minji leads the way, all business, her chin held high. She's the oldest, the leader, the one who thinks she has to protect the others. I watch her sit down, smoothing her skirt, her eyes scanning the room. She finds me, and she smiles. A professional smile. A rehearsed smile. It makes my cock twitch.
Hanni is next. She's got fire in her eyes. She doesn't trust us. Smart girl. She sits with her legs crossed, her arms folded, her body language screaming defiance. I'm going to enjoy breaking that defiance.
Danielle is sweet, nervous, playing with her hair. She smiles at everyone, trying to be polite, trying to make a good impression. She's the one who will cry the prettiest.
Haerin is quiet. She sits down without a word, her eyes fixed on the table. She's the observer. The one who watches. I'll make sure she sees everything.
And then there's Hyein. The youngest. Barely eighteen. She's wearing a white blouse and a gray skirt, looking like a schoolgirl on a field trip. She's nervous, her hands trembling, her eyes wide. She's the one I want the most.
"Welcome," I say, my voice smooth, practiced. "Thank you for coming. We're very excited about the possibility of working with you."
Minji nods, launching into her prepared speech. Something about creative freedom, about wanting to grow as artists. I let her talk. I let her believe she's in control. My associates are already moving, positioning themselves behind the girls. The cameras are rolling. The doors are locked.
The champagne is poured. Hyein takes a sip, her eyes brightening. Danielle takes two sips, and I watch her pupils dilate. The GHB is fast-acting. Within minutes, Danielle's head is drooping, her eyes glazing over. Haerin blinks, confused, touching her face. Hyein giggles, then slumps forward.
"What's happening?" Minji asks, her voice sharp. She stands up. "What did you give us?"
I don't answer. I just watch as Hanni lunges for the door. One of my associates grabs her by the hair, slamming her face into the wall. She crumples, blood pouring from her nose. Minji tries to run, but I catch her by the waist, my arm locking around her throat. I squeeze, just enough to cut off her air, feeling her struggles weaken.
"Shh," I whisper in her ear. "It's going to be a long night."
I drag her to the table, shoving her face-down onto the polished mahogany. Her skirt is yanked up, her panties torn off. I spread her legs, exposing her cunt to the cameras. She's already wet. Fucking slut. They're always wet.
"Look at the camera, Minji," I say, grabbing her chin, forcing her head up. "Tell them who you belong to."
She spits at me. I slap her across the face, hard enough to split her lip. Blood smears across the table.
"I said, tell them."
"I belong to you," she whispers, tears streaming down her face.
"Louder."
"I BELONG TO YOU!"
I shove two fingers into her pussy, rough and dry. She screams, her body arching. I fuck her with my fingers, stretching her, while my other hand wraps around her throat. I squeeze, her eyes rolling back, her breath coming in gasps.
My associates are busy with the others. Hanni is on the floor, getting beaten. One of them is stomping on her back, while another is yanking her hair, forcing her head back. He pulls down his pants and shoves his cock into her mouth. She bites down, and he punches her in the face. Her head snaps back, blood pouring from her split lip.
"Fucking bitch," he growls, slapping her again. "Open your mouth."
She spits blood at him. He laughs, grabs her by the jaw, and forces her mouth open. He fucks her face, gagging her, choking her, until she's barely conscious.
Danielle is out cold on the table. I leave Minji for a moment—her body is limp, her legs shaking—and I go to Danielle. I part her legs, burying my face between her thighs. Her pussy is soft, warm, completely unresponsive. I eat her out anyway, licking, sucking, biting her clit, leaving marks on her inner thighs. I flip her over, grab her ass, and eat her out from behind, tongue fucking her asshole while she lies there, unconscious.
Haerin is the quiet one. She's been kneeling on the floor, watching, her eyes glassy. I walk over to her, grab her chin, force her to look at me. "You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"
She nods.
"Open your mouth."
She does. I shove three fingers in, fucking her mouth, making her gag. She doesn't struggle. She just takes it. I pull my fingers out, wet with her saliva, and shove them up her ass. She whimpers, but doesn't move. I finger her ass, stretching her, while my other hand fingers her pussy. She's so tight, so perfect.
"Please," she whispers. "Please stop."
I don't stop. I keep fingering her, feeling her body tense, feeling her orgasm build. She comes on my fingers, her body convulsing, and I keep fucking her through it, overstimulating her until she's sobbing.
"Good girl," I say, pulling my fingers out. "Now suck them clean."
She does. She licks my fingers, her own juices coating her tongue, and I watch her with cold satisfaction.
Hyein is next. She's still on the table, her body limp, her eyes half-closed. I grab her by the ankles, dragging her to the edge. Her skirt is hiked up, her white panties visible. I rip them off, exposing her bare cunt. She's tight, untouched, perfect.
I spread her legs wide, my associate shoving a camera in her face. "Look at the camera, Hyein. Tell them who you belong to."
She's crying too hard to speak. I slap her across the face. Her head snaps to the side. "Tell them."
"I... I belong to you," she whispers.
"Louder."
"I BELONG TO YOU!"
I push my cock into her pussy, slowly, watching her face contort in pain. She screams, a raw, primal sound that echoes off the glass walls. I fuck her, hard and fast, my hips slapping against her ass. She's crying, begging, but I don't care. I wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze. Her eyes roll back. Her body goes limp. I keep fucking her, even as she loses consciousness.
I come inside her, filling her with my cum. I pull out, and one of the other guys takes my place, fucking her mouth while she's out.
We take turns with them. All five of them. We pass them around like toys. Minji gets fucked in every hole, twice. Hanni gets beaten until she can't stand, then fucked in the ass while she's unconscious. Danielle gets used like a doll, her body bent and twisted into positions. Haerin gets double penetrated, her mouth, pussy, and ass all filled at once. Hyein, the youngest, gets passed around last. I make sure I'm the one who takes her first. I want to feel her break.
By the time we're done, the room is a mess. Blood, cum, tears, sweat. The five of them are scattered across the floor, bruised, broken, drugged, half-dead.
I pick up the camera, reviewing the footage. Every angle. Every scream. Every violation. Perfect.
I walk over to Minji, who is curled up in a fetal position, her body covered in bruises and bite marks. I kneel down, brushing her hair out of her face. "You did well," I whisper. "Welcome to the agency."
Her eyes are open, but she's not seeing anything. She's gone. Broken. Exactly how I want her.
The champagne bottles are empty now, scattered across the floor amidst shattered glass and torn fabric. The air is thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and cum. The five of them are barely conscious, their bodies arranged on the long mahogany table like a feast for predators. I look at my associates, eight of us in total, and I know we're not done yet.
Minji is on her back, her legs spread wide, her pussy swollen and bruised from the first round. I grab her by the hair, dragging her to the edge of the table. "You think that was it?" I whisper, my voice low and venomous. "We're just getting started."
One of my associates shoves his cock into her mouth, forcing her head down. Another positions himself between her legs, pushing his dick into her pussy without preparation. She screams around the cock in her throat, her body jerking. A third man climbs onto the table, kneeling behind her, spreading her ass cheeks. He spits on her asshole, rubs it with his thumb, then rams his cock inside.
Double penetration. Pussy and ass, filled at the same time. Minji's eyes roll back, her body convulsing, her screams muffled. The man in her mouth grips her hair, fucking her throat, while the other two fuck her in rhythm, their hips slapping against her bruised flesh. I watch her face contort in agony, tears and snot streaming down her cheeks.
"Harder," I command.
They obey. They pound into her, their balls slapping against her skin. The man in her ass reaches around, grabbing her tits, pinching her nipples until they bleed. She's crying, choking, her body limp. They don't stop. They keep fucking her, using her, breaking her.
Hanni is on the floor, facedown, her arms pinned behind her back by one of my associates. Her ass is in the air, her pussy and asshole exposed. Two men take positions behind her, one fucking her pussy, the other her ass. They spit on her holes, using her dry, the friction tearing her skin. She screams into the carpet, her nails scratching at the floor.
"Look at me," I say, grabbing her chin, forcing her head up. "I want to see your face when they break you."
She glares at me, defiant even now. I slap her across the face, once, twice, three times. Her nose bursts, blood spraying across the floor. I grab her hair and slam her face into the carpet, grinding her cheek into the fibers.
"Fucking bitch," I spit. "You'll learn."
The men behind her pick up the pace, fucking her harder, deeper. One of them reaches around, shoving his fingers into her mouth, gagging her. She bites down, and he punches her in the back of the head. Her body goes limp, but they keep fucking her, using her unconscious body like a doll.
Danielle is still out cold from the GHB. We flip her onto her stomach, her ass in the air. Two men take her, one in her pussy, one in her ass. She doesn't react. She just lies there, her body jerking with each thrust. A third man straddles her face, shoving his cock into her mouth, fucking her throat. She gags, her body convulsing, but she doesn't wake up.
"Film this," I say, pointing to the cameras. "I want every angle."
The cameras zoom in, capturing every detail. The way her ass ripples with each thrust. The way her mouth stretches around the cock. The way her pussy lips are swollen and red. The way cum drips down her thighs.
Haerin is on her knees, her hands tied behind her back. Three men surround her. One fucks her mouth, one fucks her pussy from behind, and one fucks her ass. She's crying silently, her body trembling, her eyes glassy. She's already broken. She doesn't fight. She just takes it.
"Look at the camera," I say, grabbing her chin. "Tell them how much you love it."
She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. I slap her, hard. "Tell them."
"I love it," she whispers, her voice hollow.
"Louder."
"I LOVE IT!"
The men fuck her harder, faster, their grunts filling the room. She comes, her body convulsing, but they don't stop. They keep fucking her, overstimulating her, making her scream.
Hyein is the youngest, the smallest, the most fragile. She's curled up in a corner, her body covered in bruises and bite marks. She's crying, her sobs echoing off the walls. I walk over to her, grabbing her by the ankle, dragging her across the floor. She screams, clawing at the carpet, leaving bloody streaks from her broken nails.
"Please," she begs. "Please, no more."
I don't answer. I throw her onto the table, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy is raw, her asshole bloody. I grab her by the throat, squeezing until her eyes bulge.
"You're my favorite," I whisper. "You're going to take all of us."
I shove my cock into her pussy, dry and brutal. She screams, a high-pitched, animalistic sound that makes my cock harder. I fuck her, hard and fast, my hips slamming into her. One of my associates grabs her head, shoving his cock into her mouth. Another positions himself behind her, pushing into her ass. She's filled in every hole, her body stretched and broken.
"Double penetration," I grunt, fucking her faster. "Triple. All of you."
Two more men crowd around, one shoving his cock into her mouth alongside the first, both of them fucking her throat. She gags, choking, her face turning purple. I squeeze her throat harder, cutting off her air, and I feel her pussy tighten around my cock. She's about to pass out.
"Don't stop," I command.
We don't stop. We fuck her until she's unconscious, then we keep fucking her. We use her body like a toy, passing her around, filling her holes with cum. When she wakes up, screaming, we start again.
The room is chaos. Eight men, five girls. Every hole filled, every body used. The cameras capture everything. The screams. The tears. The blood. The cum.
Minji is on the table, her body twisted, her legs in the air. She's being double penetrated again, this time by two different men. Her mouth is filled with a cock, her hands pinned down. She's crying, but no sound comes out. Her voice is gone.
Hanni is on the floor, her face in a puddle of cum. She's being fucked in the ass, her pussy filled with a fist. One of my associates is fisting her, his hand buried in her cunt while another man fucks her ass. She's screaming, her body convulsing, her mind broken.
Danielle is still unconscious. We flip her over, fuck her pussy, fuck her ass, fuck her mouth. We use her like a ragdoll, her body limp, her eyes closed. We take turns, filling her with cum, then starting again.
Haerin is on her back, her legs spread wide. Two men fuck her pussy and ass while a third fucks her mouth. She's given up. She just lies there, her eyes empty, her body taking the abuse.
Hyein is in my arms, her body limp, her head lolling. I fuck her pussy while another man fucks her ass. Her mouth is filled with a third cock. She's barely conscious, her breathing shallow. I lean in, biting her neck, drawing blood.
"You're mine," I whisper. "All of you. Forever."
I come inside her, filling her with my cum. The other men do the same, covering her body in layers of semen. When we're done, we leave them on the table, broken and bleeding.
I pick up the camera, reviewing the footage. Every scream. Every tear. Every violation.
Perfect.
"Clean them up," I say, my voice cold. "Dress them. We have a contract to sign."
Warning : This story theme was contained with Incest, brother-sister, anal, Daddy kink.
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First love.
It was beautiful and unforgettable. The feeling that Karina has felt during that night she will never forget with your father. A forbidden feeling between father and daughter.
Karina doesn't care what others think or the consequences that will happen if she continues to embrace those feelings. Everything felt right to her at that time.
But people say, first love never works.
***
"Oh, Daddy you fuck so good. Yes–like that, Daddy".
Your father and Karina are now in your sister's room with his hard shaft endlessly pounding down on her pussy hole.
Sweat drenched the bodies of the two of them.
Your father’s breath was no longer a rhythm but a hunt—a ragged, frantic searching that clawed at the silence between their collisions. Each exhale was a jagged piece of glass, scraping against the back of his throat as he pushed himself toward a breaking point that seemed to retreat with every desperate surge of his hips. He was chasing a peak that felt miles away, his chest heaving against Karina’s breasts with a frantic, suffocating urgency.
“Mmph... Daddy, I want cum,” Karina whimpered, her voice a fragile thread of sound that barely carried over the rhythmic, wet slapping of their bodies
"Cum for daddy, princess," your father groaned, the words vibrating against the shell of her ear, thick with a possessive hunger that bordered on desperation.
Your father didn't just thrust; he surged, his entire body locking as he drove his shaft deeper into her than he ever had before, pinning her against the mattress with the crushing weight of his desire.
The impact sent a jolt of electricity through Karina’s spine, her eyes rolling back as the friction hit a nerve that made her vision splinter into white sparks. She felt the sudden, violent expansion of your father filling every available millimeter of her womb, and the pressure became an unbearable, exquisite tension.
Then, the dam broke.
“I am cumming… “
A shuddering, guttural cry ripped from her throat as her inner walls clamped down in a rhythmic, suffocating grip, and a hot, torrential gush of fluid erupted from her, squirting beneath him in a sudden flood that soaked the sheets in a frantic, wet spray.
Karina was a dead weight beneath him, her breath coming in shallow, shuddering hitches, her body vibrating with the residue of a climax that had stripped her of all strength.
Yet, the rhythm didn't cease.
Your father’s hips continued to drive forward, relentless and mechanical, his cock sliding through the slick, flooding heat of her pussy with a heavy, wet thud that echoed in the small room. He wasn't looking for her pleasure anymore; he was riding the wave of her exhaustion, using the trembling grip of her inner walls to milk himself toward the edge.
She was too spent to push him away, too shattered to even moan, her only reaction a soft, broken whimper that was swallowed by the sound of his ragged breathing.
“Urggh…. “
Then, with a guttural snarl that sounded more like a predator than a parent, your father locked his arms around her, his fingers bruising the soft flesh of her waist. He surged one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and froze. A long, shuddering groan ripped from his chest as he spilled his heavy load deep into the depths of his daughter's hole, the hot, thick pulses of his seed filling her with a searing warmth that seemed to anchor her to the bed.
Your father didn't pull away immediately; he remained anchored within her, his chest heaving against hers in a synchronicity of exhaustion.He shifted his weight, leaning down to press a lingering, tender kiss against Karina’s damp forehead, his lips warm and soft against her flushed skin.
"I love you, princess," he murmured, his voice no longer a predator’s snarl but a soft, broken confession that sounded almost sacred in the quiet of the room.
A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw with a delicate, shaking reverence.
"I love you too, Dad," she whispered, the words landing like a seal on a contract neither of them intended to break.
The silence that followed their union was heavy, not with peace, but with a sudden, chilling void. Karina’s gaze drifted away from the ceiling, her eyes losing their luster as they fixed on a singular, peeling strip of wallpaper.
Your father shifted, the mattress creaking under his weight as he propped himself up on one elbow.
"What's wrong, my dear?" he asked, his voice a low, attentive murmur that vibrated with a genuine, protective concern.
Karina didn't answer immediately. She simply shook her head limply, the motion sluggish and devoid of conviction, as if the words she needed were too heavy to lift from her throat. She looked away from him, her shoulders sagging under the weight of a guilt that only arrived once the pleasure had receded.
His expression softened further, and he reached out, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek with a tenderness that felt almost blasphemous given the act they had just shared.
"You can tell father, princess," he whispered, his tone sliding into a soothing, melodic cadence.
"This is about us," Karina whispered, her voice barely a tremor in the quiet of the room. She shifted beneath him, the slick friction of their parting skin sounding like a wet secret.
"I love you very much, Dad... even though the relationship between father and daughter is taboo, a sin... I don't care. I don't care about what people say."
She paused, her gaze flickering toward the closed bedroom door, as if the walls themselves were listening, "But I feel selfish. I'm selfish for not caring about Mom's feelings... or Eunhae's.”
"Shhh, calm down, princess," your father whispered, his voice dropping into a velvet register that seemed to vibrate through Karina’s very bones, "No one will get hurt. Do you understand? As long as we keep this our little secret, the world stays exactly as it is. No one has to suffer, because no one has to know.”
Karina’s eyes searched his eyes, the pupils still dilated from the heights of their shared delirium, but the fog was beginning to lift.
"Daddy..." she whispered, her voice fragile and thick with a sudden, piercing clarity. "I love you. I really do. More than I can even put into words."
A tear escaped the corner of her eye, carving a wet path through the flush of her cheek.
"But I feel like we're drowning in this. For a while... just until our minds are clear and the world stops spinning... Can we go back? Can we just be father and daughter, as usual?”
He didn't argue; he didn't try to seduce her back into the fray with the silver-tongued promises he used so effectively. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a final, chaste kiss to her forehead, the gesture jarringly innocent compared to the ruined sheets beneath them.
"Okay, my dear," he whispered, his voice hollowed out, stripped of its predatory hunger. "If that is what you need to breathe again, then we will go back.”
***
"Since then we have tried to be father and daughter again".
Your jaw was almost cut off and you couldn't hide your surprise after hearing Karina's story which was more like a sin confession.
Karina’s gaze locked onto yours, her pupils trembling as tears spilled over, carving shimmering tracks through the residual flush of her cheeks.
"My love is real, Eunhae," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread that threatened to snap, "I tried to contain it. I tried to hold it back, to build walls around it and pretend that the hunger wasn't there, but I couldn't. The feeling just... it broke. It shattered everything until I couldn't think about anything else. All I knew, all I wanted, was to be with Dad."
Then, the softness in her eyes vanished. Her expression curdled, the vulnerability replaced by a sudden, searing flash of anger that made her spine stiffen.
"But..." she started, the word cutting through the air like a blade, her voice dropping an octave into a low, dangerous hiss.
"But what, Noona?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could check the curiosity.
Karina’s eyes didn't just flash; they ignited. The vulnerability that had made her seem fragile seconds ago vanished, replaced by a cold, jagged edge. She leaned in, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous hiss that seemed to vibrate the very floorboards beneath your feet.
"I still remember it," she spat, her nails digging into the fabric of her skirt. "Right there, at the moment I was ready to surrender everything—to admit that I couldn't leave those feelings behind and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life bound to him—that's when the floor fell out from under me."
She paused, a bitter, mocking smile curling her lips as a single tear escaped and traced a path down her flushed cheek.
"That's when I found out that Daddy was also cheating on me. With a young woman my own age. Not only Yujin, he had sex with other girls several times.”
A cold, familiar numbness settled in the pit of your stomach, the kind of hollow ache that makes you feel like you’re floating and sinking all at once. Watching Karina’s composure fracture was like looking into a mirrored version of your own wreckage. The betrayal wasn't just a story she was telling; it was a frequency you were both tuning into, a jagged chord of disappointment that resonated in the space between both of you.
Your hand found the slope of Karina’s shoulder, your fingers gripping the fabric of her blouse with a tentative, grounding pressure.
"Noona, I know that feeling," you murmured.
she looked at you, and the expression in her eyes wasn't just sadness—it was a profound, aching guilt that seemed to age her face in an instant. She let out a jagged breath, her gaze tracing the line of your jaw, the shape of your eyes, the familiar slope of your nose.
"No, Eunhae," she whispered, her voice fracturing. "It wasn't just the betrayal. It was the image. From the moment the disgust set in—from the second I realized Daddy was just a man who could lie—every time I saw his figure, I felt sick. I felt a physical nausea that wouldn't leave me."
She shuddered, her shoulders collapsing inward.
"And then I would look at you. You have his eyes. You have his walk. You look so much like him that the sight of you became a trigger for every ounce of hatred I felt for him. I saw his face in yours, and I took it out on you. I treated you badly, I was angry at you for no reason at all... just because you existed as a reminder of him."
She turned her head away, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "I'm sorry. I am such a bad noona, Eunhae. I projected my wreckage onto you because it was easier than facing him.”
You reached out and pulled her into a hug, the fabric of her blouse damp against your cheek. Feeling the tension in her frame—a tight, coiled spring of guilt and grief—and you began to pat her back with a slow, rhythmic steadiness, hoping to ground her in the present.
"It's okay, Noona," you whispered, your voice thick with a sudden, clarifying empathy. "It's okay. I understand. None of this was my fault, and it wasn't yours either."
Before I could even draw a breath to respond, Karina’s voice sliced through the stillness, frantic and preemptive.
"You must think I'm crazy, right?" she asked, her eyes searching mine with a desperate, wide-eyed intensity. "An older sister falling in love with her younger brother... it's disgusting, isn't it? A twisted, sick joke of a feeling."
Your heart beats by confession from Karina, is this love? Is that all this time your feeling of loneliness is due to the loss of Karina's figure? What Is This Love? Then what about your mother, Eunbi?
You closed youreyes, letting the world dissolve into a heavy, velvet darkness. In that void, the images began to coalesce—not as memories, but as image.
First came the silhouette of Eunbi, the curve of her hips and the commanding presence of her warmth, a woman who had blurred the line between sanctuary and sin. Then, sliding in beside her, was the sharp, electric image of Karina, her gaze no longer freezing but burning with a desperate, reclaimed longing. They stood together in the theater of your mind, two pillars of forbidden desire, their arms open and their expressions welcoming, inviting you to step away from the wreckage of the world and sink into the sanctuary of their shared obsession.
"You probably hate me, don't you?" Karina whispered, the words barely escaping her lips, trembling with a vulnerability that made her seem smaller than she ever had. "You probably look at me and see someone broken, someone disgusting who can't even distinguish between the man who hurt her and the brother who—"
The sentence died in her throat, not because she stopped speaking, but because you stopped the air from leaving her lungs. You reached out as your hand cupping the back of her neck, and crashed my lips against hers.
Karina froze, her eyes widening into shimmering moons of shock, her body stiffening against you as if she expected the world to shatter around both of you. For a heartbeat, she was a statue of disbelief.
Then, a soft, broken sound escaped her throat—half-sob, half-sigh—and she melted.
Her arms wound around my neck with a sudden, desperate strength, pulling you closer until there was no air left between both of you. She returned the kiss with a hunger that mirrored my own, her tongue dancing against mine in a frantic, rhythmic desperation. In that moment, the labels of brother and sister dissolved like ash in the wind, replaced by a raw, primal connection that felt more honest than any truth we had ever spoken.
The kiss broke with a wet, lingering snap, leaving a trail of silver saliva connecting our lips for a fleeting second, "I love you too, Noona," you whispered, the words tasting of salt and adrenaline.
Karina’s eyes didn't just well up; they overflowed, the tears shimmering with a sudden, luminous joy that washed away the years of projected hatred and cold silence. She let out a sound that was half-laugh and half-sob, throwing her arms around your neck with a force that nearly knocked the wind from your lungs. Her kiss returned not as a question, but as a claim—fierce, desperate, and tasting of long-denied longing.
Driven by a primal instinct to possess every inch of her, you didn't break the kiss. Instead, you hooked your arms under her thighs and hoisted her upward, lifting her body off the floor in one fluid motion. Karina let out a muffled gasp of surprise against your lips, her legs instinctively snapping shut around your waist, locking me into her embrace.
With a slow, deliberate motion, You reached for the button of your trousers, your fingers trembling not from hesitation, but from a hunger that had finally found its target. As the fabric slid down your legs, the cool air of the room hit your skin, but the chill was instantly incinerated by the heat radiating from her. You stepped out of the heap of denim, standing before her completely exposed, Your body primed and pulsing, an offering laid bare to the woman who had spent years pretending she didn't want you.
"Noona," you murmured, your voice dropping into a low, territorial register that seemed to vibrate through the mattress. You leaned over her, your shadow engulfing her smaller frame, your eyes scanning the desperate hunger etched into her feathers, "I'm not going to play soft this time."
Karina’s breath hitched, her chest heaving as she looked up at you—not as the brother she had resented, but as the man who now held her entire world in his grip. A shiver of anticipation raced down her spine, her back arching instinctively toward you.
"Mmph... of course, Daddy!" she gasped, the word slipping out in a submissive, breathless rush that signaled her total surrender to your will.
Karina’s eyes widened, the pupils shrinking as if she had just been caught in a blinding spotlight. The submissive haze that had clouded her gaze evaporated instantly, replaced by a frantic, wide-eyed realization of what had just slipped past her lips. She clamped her mouth shut so hard her jaw practically locked, her breath hitching in a sudden, jagged rhythm.
You didn't move, staying poised over her, a slow, predatory smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.
"Oh?" you murmured, your voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to echo in the space between your colliding chests, "It seems someone is very obsessed with Daddy kinky."
Karina’s face flushed a deep, scorching crimson that spread from her collarbone up to the tips of her ears.
"It's not... it's not what you think, Eunhae!" she stammered, her voice an octave higher, the confidence of a moment ago replaced by a flustered, girlish desperation.
You didn't give her a chance to finish her stuttered excuse. In one fluid, violent motion, you reached down and gripped the hem of her tank top. With a sharp, guttural tug, the fabric shrieked, the cheap cotton giving way with a satisfying rip that echoed like a gunshot in the small room.
Your fingers hooked into the clasp of her bra, snapping it open with a clinical efficiency that spoke of a hunger long suppressed. As the lace fell away, her breasts spilled forward, heavy and trembling with the sudden chill of the room.
You didn't wait for her to adjust.
You lunged forward, your large hands closing around her soft mounds, squeezing them with a bruising, possessive intensity that forced a sharp, high-pitched moan from her throat.
You leaned down, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, your breath hot and demanding. "I know you really like acting like a bad girl to Get Daddy's attention, don't you?" you murmured, your voice dripping with a dominant edge that left no room for denial.
"No..." Karina whimpered, the word barely a ghost of a sound as she shook her head, a futile attempt to maintain some shred of dignity. Her voice was thin, trembling with a fragility that contradicted the frantic way her hips were already arching toward you.
You dipped your head, your tongue swirling around the peak of her breast with a slow, agonizing deliberation before you clamped your lips over the nub, pulling it firmly between your teeth. Karina’s back snapped off the mattress, a sharp, guttural gasp ripping from her throat as a jolt of electricity surged from her chest to her core. You didn't let up, alternating between the wet, sliding heat of your tongue and the sharp, teasing pressure of your teeth, nibbling at the sensitive peak until she was writhing beneath you, her fingers clawing into the sheets.
"Please... Eunhae... ah!" she sobbed, her voice breaking as the pleasure became an overwhelming tide.
Your palms clamped down on her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh with a bruising intensity that forced the air from her lungs in a series of short, frantic hitches. You could feel her heart hammering against your chest, a trapped bird fighting to get out, as you leaned in, your voice a low, gravelly command that left no room for hesitation.
"No... no, no," you murmured, your lips grazing the sensitive peak you had just tortured. "You're not getting off that easily. Call me what, my bad girl? Tell me exactly who is taking care of you.”
Karina’s eyes were no longer those of a composed older sister; they were wide, shimmering pools of desperation, glazed with a hunger that had been starving for a lifetime.
"Daddy..." she whimpered, the word coming out as a shredded, breathless plea that vibrated through the air, "Please... please fuck me, Daddy. Please…”
A slow, triumphant smile spread across your face, the expression devoid of its usual hesitation. You shifted your weight, hoisting yourself up, your chest pressing firmly against the plush, trembling heat of her breasts.
With a dominant grace, you repositioned yourself, guiding your pulsing length upward until it hovered just inches from her parted lips, the tip of your cock nearly brushing her chin.
"Suck it," you commanded, your
"Suck it All! Show Daddy how much of a slutty little girl you've become. Do it right, and maybe I'll reward you by fucking that slutty pussy of yours until you can't remember your own name.”
Karina didn’t hesitate; the command seemed to act as a catalyst, snapping the last thread of her restraint. She lunged forward with a sudden, desperate urgency, her mouth opening wide to welcome you. As she leaned in, a thick string of saliva escaped her lips, glistening in the dim light of the room before she clamped her mouth around the crown of your length. The sensation was an immediate, jarring contrast—the wet, sliding heat of her mouth meeting the pulsing tension of your skin. She didn’t just take you; she explored you, her tongue swirling around the ridge with a slow, rhythmic deliberation, licking the length of you as if you were a delicacy she had been starving for her entire life.
When her soft, wet tongue flicked against the sensitive tip, it wasn't just a touch; it was a physical detonation. An electric shock surged from the point of contact, racing up your spine and making your toes curl against the linens. The friction was delicious, a searing blend of suction and velvet that threatened to pull the breath right out of your lungs. Karina groaned, the sound muffled by your girth, and she began to bob her head with a frantic, hungry rhythm, her eyes looking up at you through her lashes—wide, dilated, and brimming with a submission that felt earned.
"Urgh...your mouth is so amazing, Suck me like that!"
Karina pulled away with a slow, wet slurp, leaving your length glistening under a thick, silver coating of her saliva. She looked up at you, her eyes glazed with a mixture of lust and adoration, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. Without a word, she shifted her position, arching her back to create a deep, plush valley between her heavy breasts. With a trembling hand, she guided your pulsing cock into that warm crevice, the slick friction of her mucus acting as a natural lubricant as she pressed you deep into her softness.
Then, she clamped down.
With both hands, she pushed the two halves of her busty chest together, squeezing your length with a suffocating, supple pressure. The sensation was overwhelming—a crushing, velvet embrace that felt like being swallowed by a cloud of heat and silk. As you began to stroke yourself using the cushioning of her breasts, the friction was electric. Every upward slide felt like a massage from the inside out, her skin yielding and plush, while the downward press felt like a firm, possessive grip.
“Oh fuck… Your tits are so soft on Daddy's cock, princess".
You groaned, your hips twitching involuntarily as the sheer softness of her breasts worked in tandem with the slickness of her saliva, creating a rhythmic, sliding heat that threatened to push you over the edge.
Every slide against the heavy, yielding curves of her chest felt like a slow descent into a fever dream, the slickness of her saliva turning the sensation into something fluid and hypnotic.
You wanted to drown in that softness, to let the world outside this room cease to exist while you was enveloped by her. But the hunger in your gut had shifted; the superficial heat of her skin was no longer enough. You needed the crushing, wet pressure of her core, the place where her submission turned from a whisper into a scream.
With a low, guttural groan, you withdrew your length from the velvet vice of her breasts, the sudden loss of warmth leaving a stinging void that I hurried to fill.
You didn't give her a moment to breathe.
Reaching down, you gripped the waistband of her skirt and the thin, precarious strip of her lacy panties in one motion. With a sharp, authoritative yank, you peeled the fabric away from her hips, stripping her bare in a single, sweeping motion that left her exposed and trembling.
A thick, translucent sheen of arousal had already soaked through the inner curve of her thighs, the nectar of her desire dripping slow and heavy onto the sheets. She wasn't just ready; she was overflowing.
You leaned over her, the heat radiating off her body in waves that blurred your vision. "Someone seems to be wet," you murmured, your voice a low, predatory vibration that seemed to ripple through the air.
Karina’s gaze wavered, her eyes searching the ceiling as if looking for a lost piece of herself before they snapped back to yours. She swallowed hard, her throat working as she shifted beneath you, the friction of her damp thighs against the sheets making a soft, wet sound.
"Can I... can I not call you 'Daddy'?" she whispered, the question tentative, almost fragile.
"Why?" the word left your lips as a low, questioning rumble.
Karina’s eyes searched yours, and for the first time, the frantic hunger was tempered by a sudden, profound clarity. She reached up, her fingertips grazing your cheek with a tenderness that felt almost sacred.
"Because I don’t want to be a ghost of someone else's wreckage," she whispered, her voice steadying, "I want to erase his figure from my mind".
"Of course, Noona," you murmured, the word feeling like a vow as you looked down at her. "Are you ready?"
She simply nodded, a small, frantic movement that sent a stray lock of hair clinging to her damp cheek. You shifted, positioning the crown of your pulsing length against the soaking wet heat of her entrance. With a slow, deliberate pressure, you pushed forward, sliding the tip of your cock past the velvet curtains of her folds.
Karina let out a broken, airy moan that seemed to echo from the very depths of her soul. It wasn't just the sudden intrusion of flesh meeting flesh; it was the homecoming.
As you pushed deeper, stretching her open, she felt the familiar architecture of your body—the brother she had watched grow, the boy she had once protected, and the man who was now claiming her. The friction was an electric current, bridging the gap between the innocent love of their childhood and the forbidden hunger of their adulthood.
When you pushed forward, the tight, wet ring of her entrance yielded with a reluctant, sliding resistance, gripping your length with a desperate, pulsing hunger. Inch by inch, you claimed her, the sensation of her internal walls molding themselves to your shape feeling like a puzzle finally clicking into place. Karina’s breath hitched, her body stiffening for a split second as the sheer girth of you began to stretch her, filling the void she hadn’t even known existed until this moment.
"Urgh... your cock fills me so well, Eunhae," she gasped, the words breaking apart as her head fell back into the pillow.
"The hole is still tight as usual, Noona," you murmured, the words vibrating against her skin as you finally drove yourself home, burying your length to the hilt. The sensation was a visceral shock—a searing, velvet grip that seemed to want to swallow you whole.
You didn't give her a moment to recover from the initial stretch, immediately shifting your weight and beginning to pound into her with a rhythmic, uncompromising force. Each thrust was a heavy, wet collision that echoed through the quiet of the room, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh punctuating the air like a heartbeat.
Karina’s response was instantaneous; her voice, once a fragile whisper, escalated into a series of loud, uncontrolled moans that climbed higher with every plunge. She wasn't just receiving you; she was craving the impact. Every time you bottomed out, her vaginal walls clamped down on your length with a desperate, pulsing intensity, as if her body were trying to fuse itself to yours, refusing to let a single millimeter of skin slide away without a fight.
Reaching down, you hooked your arms under her armpits and hoisted her upward, shifting your position until you were sitting upright against the headboard. You pulled her onto your lap, her legs wrapping around your waist in a desperate, locking grip. In this new orientation, gravity became your ally. With every downward sink, the angle changed, allowing you to bypass the shallow resistance and drive your length upward, piercing the very ceiling of her pleasure.
Karina let out a strangled, high-pitched cry as she felt the shift.
The depth was staggering, a blunt-force intimacy that seemed to touch her soul. She began to ride you with a frantic, undulating rhythm, her spine arching like a bow as she impaled herself onto you over and over. Her breasts swayed violently with the motion, the heavy curves slapping against your chest in a rhythmic, wet percussion.
"Oh... Eunhae," she sobbed, her voice thick with a cocktail of relief and raw lust, "I love you... my little brother... I love you so much!”
"I love you too, Noona," you murmured, the words vibrating against the sensitive column of her neck.
You didn't just speak the words; you sealed them with a kiss that tasted of desperation and liberation, your tongue sweeping across her lips to capture the ragged gasps of her breath.
The friction was no longer just physical; it was an erasure of every boundary they had ever known.
Karina’s grip on your shoulders tightened, her nails digging into your skin as she hit the precipice. You could feel it happening—the sudden, violent narrowing of her walls, clamping down on your length with a pressure that was almost bruising. She let out a loud, shattering moan that tore through the silence of the room, her head snapping back as the tension finally broke.
A sudden, hot surge of fluid erupted from her core, spraying against your shaft in a rhythmic, pulsing torrent that slicked everything in a shimmering, translucent heat.
"Hosh...you're so amazing, Eunhae", you chuckled.
"Can we continue, because I haven't cum yet, Noona?" Karina saw your still erect cock, then snorted, "okay, but let Noona take a moment, it's still sensitive."
For several long minutes, you simply watched her—the way her chest heaved in shallow, uneven rhythms and the way her skin glowed with a sheen of perspiration and shared nectar.
Can we continue, because I haven't cum yet, Noona?" Karina saw your still erect cock, then snorted, "okay, but let Noona take a moment, it's still sensitive."
After waiting for a while, by Moving with a deliberate, predatory slowness, you shifted your position, sliding over her until you were lying sideways in a modified missionary stance.
You rested your weight on one arm, your body molding against hers, feeling the cooling dampness of her inner thighs against your hip. You waited, letting the silence stretch, watching as the haze in Karina's eyes began to clear, replaced by a sudden, wide-eyed realization of the pulsing hardness still pressed against her thigh.
"I'm starting, Noona," you murmured, the words barely a vibration against her damp skin. Karina didn’t answer with words, only a soft, frantic nod that sent her hair swirling across the pillow like ink in water.
You didn't slide back in with a gentle glide; instead, you drove yourself home with a sudden, decisive surge that bridged the remaining distance. The impact was a wet, heavy thud that knocked the air from her lungs, your hips locking firmly against hers in the modified missionary position.
As you began to pump into her again, the rhythm was different—slower, deeper, and far more deliberate. With your bodies pressed together side-to-side, every movement became a visceral collision of friction and heat. Your skin, slick with a cocktail of sweat and shared nectar, acted like a lubricant, creating a suctioning, sliding sensation that made every stroke feel like you were being pulled deeper into her.
Karina responded by wrapping her arms around you in a crushing embrace, her fingers digging into the muscles of your back as she pulled you as close as humanly possible. The physical boundary between you vanished entirely. You were no longer two separate entities, but a single, pulsing mass of heat and desperation.
The room was filled with the raw, rhythmic music of your union: the rhythmic *slap-slap-slap* of your thighs colliding, the wet, squelching sounds of your cock churning through her depths, and the ragged, synchronized symphony of your breathing.
The rhythm shifted from a frantic race to a grueling marathon, each thrust becoming a deliberate excavation of pleasure. With every heavy, wet collision, Karina’s resistance began to erode, not through a lack of desire, but through a sheer, overwhelming saturation of sensation.
The more you pushed, the more her nervous system seemed to short-circuit; her gripping arms lost their tension, sliding off your shoulders to fall limp against the sheets, and her head lolled back into the pillow. Her mouth drifted open, her lips parted in a silent, breathless void, her voice stolen by the relentless tide of your momentum. She looked like a doll made of silk and heat, completely undone, her consciousness drifting in the white noise of pure, physical obliteration.
Then, just as she seemed to vanish into the depths of her own surrender, you felt it—a sudden, violent contraction that clamped around your shaft like a vice. The walls of her vagina didn't just pulse; they spasmed in a rhythmic, suffocating grip that threatened to pull you deeper than physically possible. Karina’s eyes rolled back, her entire body arching in one final, jagged electricity of a peak. A second climax, far more visceral than the first, tore through her, leaving her shaking beneath you in a state of utter, blissful exhaustion.
"You've already cum for the second time, Noona," you murmured, your voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through the very marrow of her bones,"Wait, I'm going to cum too... and I'm going to fill your womb.”
You gripped her thighs, hoisting her legs high and locking them firmly around your waist, pulling her pelvis flush against yours so there was no air left between you. In this prone, locked-in missionary position, the depth was absolute. You began to drive into her with a primal, hammering force, each thrust a heavy, wet collision that seemed to vibrate through the mattress and into the very floorboards. The sound was visceral—a rhythmic, guttural slapping of skin on skin that drowned out the silence of the house.
Karina was completely undone, her head tossing from side to side, her voice reduced to a series of fragmented, breathless whimpers. Every time you bottomed out, you could feel her internal walls convulsing around you, milking your length with a desperate, instinctive greed.
With one final, bone-deep surge, you drove yourself into her with a force that seemed to fuse your hips together, and the dam finally broke.
The first eruption was a violent, searing jolt that made your entire frame shudder. You felt the thick, hot jet of your seed slam against the sensitive ceiling of her womb, the sensation of the fluid leaving your body in rhythmic, pulsing waves. It wasn't a simple release; it was an overflowing, a heavy pouring of white heat that filled her to the brim.
Grain by grain, the seed surged forward, saturating her internal walls, the viscous warmth expanding within her like a slow-motion explosion of pleasure.
As you finally withdrew, the sensation was a slow, sliding suction, like a plug being pulled from a saturated drain. The sudden absence of your length left Karina’s entrance gaping, a raw and open invitation to the air, and for several heartbeats, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then, the floodgates opened.
Your thick, creamy seed, which had been pooled deep against the ceiling of her womb, began to overflow in a slow, viscous river. It didn't just drip; it surged, a heavy white tide that cascaded down the valley of her thighs in shimmering ribbons, pooling beneath her on the rumpled sheets in a translucent, pearlescent lake.
You collapsed beside her, the sudden drop in adrenaline leaving your limbs feeling like lead.
Karina lay like a broken doll, her chest heaving in shallow, erratic jolts, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as if she were still navigating the afterglow of a distant star. Her skin was flushed a deep, sunset rose, coated in a fine sheen of sweat and the lingering heat of your union.
In your mind, you have to tell the truth and be honest about your relationship with Eunbi to Karina, or you will lose everything.
"Noona!"Karina looked at you questioningly, "actually....”
***
"You're home, baby?"
Eunbi stood by the counter, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the overhead light, her hips swaying slightly as she focused on the precise rhythm of the knife hitting the chopping board.
You wrapped your arms around her waist, your hands splaying across the plush, generous curves of her stomach, pulling her back into the hard line of your chest. You buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply; she smelled of expensive floral perfume and the warm, lactic scent of her own skin, a fragrance that acted like a narcotic on your senses.
"Hmm," you hummed, the sound vibrating through your chest and into the soft, yielding flesh of her back.
She paused, the knife hovering just millimeters above a slice of carrot. Eunbi didn’t turn around, but you could feel the shift in her energy—a sudden, sharp intuition that sliced through my facade more effectively than the steel in her hand.
She knew.
She always knew when the rhythms of your breath changed, when the way you held her was slightly too tight, or when your silence became a scream.
"I'm sorry, Mom," you whispered, the words feeling heavy and jagged, like stones being dragged across a glass floor.
You tightened your grip on her waist, pressing your face deeper into the velvet warmth of her neck, as if trying to hide from the truth you were about to utter.
"I love someone else... besides you."
Eunbi didn't pull away, nor did she turn around to scold you. She simply froze, her body becoming a statue of supple curves and sudden, brittle tension. But the anger never came. Instead, you felt a single, warm droplet of moisture hit the back of your hand.
She didn't speak, but her silence was a scream, a raw admission that your confession had carved a hole in her heart that no amount of possessive desire could ever fill.
The first thing I notice is the way she's standing at the edge of the pool, that pink cropped camisole clinging to her small tits, white ruffle trim bouncing with every nervous breath. The dark denim shorts hug her hips, showing off the curve of her ass. She's been avoiding my calls all day, and I can see the guilt written all over her pretty face. That's cute. That's really fucking cute.
"Yeonji," I say, my voice low, controlled. "Come here."
She hesitates, her eyes darting to the side, and that tiny rebellion makes my blood heat. The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity.
I cross the patio in three long strides, grab her by the wrist, and yank her toward me. She stumbles, letting out a soft gasp, and I drag her through the back door, through the living room, straight to the bedroom. She knows what's coming. I can feel her trembling under my grip.
"Please," she whispers. "I didn't mean to—"
"Shut up."
I toss her onto the bed. She lands with a bounce, her shorts riding up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs. I'm on her before she can scramble away, my knee pressing into the mattress between her legs, my hand wrapping around her throat. Not hard enough to cut off air. Just enough to remind her who owns her.
"Did you think you could ignore me?" I growl, my thumb pressing into the soft hollow of her collarbone. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
Tears well in her eyes. Good. I love that look—the fear, the submission, the knowledge that she's completely at my mercy.
I rip the camisole down, the fabric tearing, her small tits spilling out. I don't bother with the bow. I just grab her left tit, squeezing hard, kneading the soft flesh until she whimpers. My other hand shoves up her shorts, past the waistband of her panties, finding her pussy already wet. Fucking slut. She's always wet for me, even when she's scared.
"Look at you," I mutter, sliding two fingers inside her cunt without warning. She arches her back, a strangled cry escaping her lips. "Soaking my fingers. You love this, don't you? You love being used."
I fuck her with my fingers, hard and fast, the wet sounds filling the room. Her legs start to shake, her thighs quivering as I curl my fingers, pressing against that spot that makes her see stars. She's close—I can feel her clenching around me—but I pull out before she can come. Not yet. I'm not done with her.
I flip her over, shoving her face into the mattress. Her shorts and panties come off in one rough yank, leaving her bare, her ass in the air. I spread her cheeks with both hands, exposing her tight little hole, and I spit on it. She shudders, and I press my thumb against her asshole, pushing in slow, watching her body tense.
"Please," she gasps, her voice muffled by the sheets. "It hurts—"
"I know."
I work my thumb deeper, stretching her, while my other hand reaches around to finger her pussy from behind. Two fingers in her cunt, thumb in her ass, and she's shaking, her legs giving out, her whole body trembling. I press down on her lower back, keeping her pinned, and I fuck her with both hands until she's sobbing, drooling into the mattress.
The first orgasm hits her like a wave. She cries out, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her asshole tightening around my thumb. I don't stop. I keep fucking her through it, overstimulating her, until she's begging me to stop.
"You don't get to tell me to stop," I say, pulling my fingers out and shoving them into her mouth. "Suck."
She does. She licks my fingers clean, her own juices coating her tongue, and I watch her with a cold satisfaction. I pull my hand away, grab her by the hair, and drag her to the edge of the bed. I sit down, pulling her over my lap, her bare ass in the air.
The first spank lands hard, and she yelps. The second leaves a red handprint. The third makes her sob. I spank her until her ass is bright red, hot to the touch, and she's crying into the carpet. I don't stop until I'm satisfied, and then I reach for my belt.
The buckle clinks as I slide it out of the loops. She hears it, and she starts begging, pleading, but I ignore her. I fold the belt in half, the leather heavy in my hand, and I bring it down across her ass.
The crack echoes through the room. A red line appears on her skin. She screams.
I whip her again. And again. And again. Each strike leaves a mark, a welt, a reminder of who she belongs to. By the time I'm done, her ass is a mess of red and purple stripes, and she's weeping, her body limp over my lap.
"Get up," I say.
She can't. Her legs are too weak, her body too broken. So I grab her by the waist, haul her up, and carry her to the pool. She's limp in my arms, her head lolling, her body covered in sweat and marks. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.
I step into the water, the cold shocking her awake. She squirms, trying to push away, but I hold her tight. I walk deeper, until the water reaches my chest, and then I dunk her.
She thrashes, her arms flailing, bubbles rising. I hold her under for five seconds before pulling her up. She gasps, coughing, choking on water. I wait for her to catch her breath, and then I dunk her again.
This time, I hold her longer. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Her movements grow weaker, her struggles fading. When I pull her up, she's barely conscious, her eyes fluttering, her lips blue.
I drag her to the edge of the pool, my body pressing her against the tile. The water laps at her waist, and I spread her legs, positioning myself between them. I shove my cock into her pussy, and she moans, a weak, pathetic sound that makes me harder.
I fuck her in the water, my hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to cut off her air. She gasps, her eyes rolling back, her legs wrapping around my waist. The water sloshes around us, and I pound into her, using her, taking what's mine.
"You're nothing," I hiss in her ear. "You're nothing without me. I made you. I own you. And if you ever try to leave me, I'll destroy you. I'll leak every video, every photo, every dirty little secret you've ever told me. You'll be ruined. Your career, your life, everything."
She's crying, her tears mixing with the pool water. Her body is shaking, convulsing, as another orgasm rips through her. She comes on my cock, her pussy clenching, and I keep fucking her, using her pleasure against her.
I carry her back to the bedroom, her body limp and wet, and I lay her on the bed. She's half-conscious, her eyes glazed, her lips parted. I take her again, this time from behind, my hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back as I fuck her ass. She's too weak to resist, too broken to do anything but take it.
I come inside her, filling her, marking her. And when I'm done, I roll off, leaving her there, a crumpled mess on the sheets.
She's not moving. Her breathing is shallow, her body covered in bruises and welts. I reach for the small bottle of pills in my pocket, the ones I slipped into her drink earlier. They're already in her system, making her pliant, compliant, easy to use.
I lean over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," I whisper. "You know that, right? I do this because I love you. Because you're mine."
She doesn't respond. She can't. But that's fine. She'll learn. She always does.
The late‑afternoon sun slanted through the half‑drawn blinds of Y/N’s modest bedroom, painting warm stripes across the cluttered floor. Posters of Stayc and Fromis_9 clung to the walls like silent witnesses, their glossy faces smiling down from glossy paper—Jang Yeeun’s mischievous wink, Baek Jiheon’s bright, almost‑imperial grin, Isa’s soft, ethereal gaze, and Jisun’s fierce, confident stare. The room smelled faintly of cedar from the old bookshelf in the corner and a lingering trace of vanilla from the candle Y/N had lit earlier, trying to mask the nervous energy that always seemed to hum beneath his skin when he was alone.
Y/N was twenty, lanky but with a hint of muscle from the occasional jog he forced himself to take after school. His hair, a messy tumble of dark brown, fell over his forehead as he leaned over his laptop, the screen casting a pale blue glow that highlighted the concentration etched into his features. He wore a soft, oversized hoodie—and a pair of faded joggers that clung loosely to his thighs. The hoodie’s sleeves were pushed up, revealing forearms that twitched occasionally as he typed, the faint trace of a scar from a childhood bike accident catching the light.
Both sisters had a habit of teasing Y/N about his not‑so‑secret crushes on their older group mates, Isa and Jisun. Isa, the elegant lead vocalist of Stayc, possessed a quiet grace that made her seem almost untouchable; Jisun, the charismatic rapper and dancer of Fromis_9, radiated a bold, unapologetic confidence that drew eyes wherever she went. Y/N would often find himself stealing glances at their photos on his phone, heart fluttering as he imagined what it would be like to stand beside them, to hear their laughter, to feel the heat of their presence. The sisters, ever observant, would catch him in these moments and pounce with a blend of affectionate ridicule and teasing that left him flustered and red‑cheeked.
On the screen, a timeline of clips unfurled: short, edited fap challenges featuring the Stayc members—Isa’s sultry hip roll during a dance break, Jisun’s fierce eye‑contact during a rap verse, and, most prominently, her safety shorts hugging her tight plump ass while performing their signature song as a unniversity festival.
Y/N’s fingers flew over the keyboard, trimming frames, adjusting contrast, adding a subtle vignette that made the members’ skin glow under the imagined stage lights. He bit his lower lip, a habit when he was both excited and anxious, and let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh as the preview played—a loop of Yeeun’s hair flip, slowed down, the way the light caught the sweat on her temple, the way her lips parted just enough to reveal a flash of pink.
He was so absorbed in the rhythm of the edit that he didn’t hear the soft creak of the hallway floorboards outside his door. He didn’t notice the faint scent of jasmine that seemed to drift in with the breeze from the open window—a scent that always accompanied J when she was near. He was lost in the world of pixels and fantasies, a place where the idols he adored could be bent to his will, where he could make them do exactly what he imagined in the quietest, most secret corners of his mind.
Just as he was about to add a final touch—a soft glow to accentuate the sheen of sweat on Jang Yeeun’s neck in the hair‑flip clip—a sudden, sharp creak echoed from the hallway. The door to his room swung open without warning, and there, framed in the doorway, stood Jang Yeeun.
She was wearing a loose, white oversized tee that hung off one shoulder, revealing the strap of a black sports bra underneath. Her shorts were short, frayed at the ends, showing off the toned length of her legs. Her hair, usually tied back for practice, was loose today, cascading over her shoulders in waves that caught the fading light and gave her an almost halo‑like appearance. She held a mug of steaming tea in one hand, the other resting casually on her hip, her eyes narrowed just enough to convey a mix of amusement and suspicion.
Y/N’s heart leapt into his throat. The laptop screen flashed the edited clip of Yoon’s hair flip, the slowed‑motion version glinting with the sweat on her temple, the way her lips were slightly parted. He froze, his hands hovering over the keyboard, the mouse cursor blinking impatiently on the screen.
Jang Yeeun stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. The scent of her tea—jasmine with a hint of honey—mixed with the faint aroma of his own vanilla candle, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to thicken the air. She glanced at the screen, her eyebrows rising in a playful, knowing arch.
“Well, well,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “look what we have here.” She took a slow step forward, the floorboards sighing under her weight. “Editing fap challenges of your favorite Stayc members, huh? Guess you really are a… dedicated fan.”
Y/N swallowed, his mouth dry. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the pulse pounding in his ears. He tried to speak, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
Jeeun’s gaze flicked to the laptop, then back to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You know,” she continued, voice dripping with mock innocence, “if the fans found out you were making… 'personal' edits of their idols, they might not be too happy. Imagine the comments, the hashtags… #CreepyFan, #BannedFromFanmeets.” She let the words hang, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and something else—perhaps a flicker of power, of knowing she held a lever over him.
She took another step, closing the distance between them until she stood just beside his chair, her shoulder brushing against his arm. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, the fabric of her tee soft against his skin. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear once more, the jasmine scent enveloping him.
“Unless,” she whispered, her voice a sultry purr, “you’d like to make a deal. Keep this between us, and I’ll make sure you stay on the guest list for the next Stayc fanmeet. No bans, no creep labels… just… a little… favor.” She paused, letting the implication sink in, her lips grazing the shell of his ear as she added, “Or… I could just tell Jiheon how many edits you have of her Hayoung unnie on your 'secret' folder."
Y/N’s mind raced, a storm of fear, excitement, and disbelief swirling inside him. The sisters’ teasing had always been playful, but this—this felt like a line crossed, a threshold where teasing turned into something more tantalizingly dangerous.
Jang Yeeun pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her dark gaze holding his, unblinking. The room seemed to shrink to the space between them, the world outside fading into a hum of distant traffic and the low thrum of the refrigerator. She waited, her expression a blend of challenge and invitation, the tease now edged with a promise that made Y/N’s heart hammer against his ribs.
"Fine, what do you want from me, evil one?" Y/N replies defensively.
"What do you like so much about Yoon unnie anyways? And your obsession with Chaeyoung unnie, what is that one about? Do you just dream about fucking all of my unnies? God, you're such a creep."
"That's not something you need to know. Just name your price and get the hell out so i can finish this edit, my fans are waiting for the next upload."
"You have fans? I guess i shouldn't be surprised that there are more creeps like you staring at our asses every performance. I bet you're thinking about Chaeyoung unnie's big boobs, am i right? I saw the way you were staring at her that day at the Yonsei unni festival."
"Why? Are you jealous that everyone prefers her big boobs since yours haven't grown in the last 3 years?"
J jumps at you and tries to kick you in the back but you're too fast and move out of the way just before her right leg makes contact with the back of your chair. "Hehe, i knew that would get to you Yeeun-ah. And don't worry, i'm sure nobody is staring at your ass, or whatever you want to call that little behind of yours. So, name your price, what do you want in return for not telling on me? Cause there's no way i'm missing the next fanmeet."
"Umm, this is gonna sound really weird…Oh, i can't believe i'm about to say this…but, i need some kissing practice and you're the only guy i know.."
"Wait, what???" Y/N replies shocked
"You heard me, i've never kissed a guy before and i have a guy friend from a school group that keeps flirting with me and i think he might ask me out and i want to be prepared."
"Isn't this something that girls usually practice with each other? You have Jiheon noona or your dear Chaeyoung unnie, go practice sucking face with them.."
"Uhh, you're such an asshole Y/N. And plus, i've already done that with Jiheon unnie when i was 16, but now that she has a boyfriend i can't keep asking her to help me practice, and it's not like i can just go around the dorm kissing my unnies, now can i? I'm not 14 anymore."
"I'm still not kissing my step-sister, that is just weird, plus what if our parents catch us?"
"Don't be such a loser, nobody is going to catch us, we will do it later tonight after they've all gone to sleep. Nobody will know. Or should i tell Jiheon unnie about the metronome moaning 'edits' you were making about her Hayoung unnie? You know she's the sweetest person ever right? And you're just out here making highlights of her bending over like a huge creep."
"Fineeee, fine. I will help you. Just shut up already, you're giving me a huge headache. Can't believe you and noona came out of your mom, she's the sweetest and you're the biggest pain in the ass. I will do it. But you can't tell anyone or my reputation in the kpop club at school will be ruined."
"Don't you mean boosted? And what reputation do you have nerd, you got a D in P.E. class and you're in a kpop club with 3 other weirdos. I think your 'reputation' will be fine."
"Whatever, just get the hell out of my room already."
"See you tonight at 11 pm in my room, Jiheon will be out with her boyfriend on a 'date'."
"Okay, now just go and don't let the door hit your 'enormous' behind."
"Uhh, i can't believe you're the only normal guy i know. Men are the worst."
"Yeah, like you're all sunshine and rainbows."
The house had gone quiet after dinner. The parents were out for the weekend, Jiheon had left earlier with her boyfriend, and the only sounds left were the low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of settling wood. Y/N waited until he heard the front door click shut behind Jiheon before he moved. His pulse was already quickening at the thought of what he had agreed to do.
He padded down the hallway in bare feet, the soft carpet muffling his steps. When he reached J’s door he hesitated for only a second, then pushed it open. The room smelled faintly of her perfume—something sweet and floral—and the bedside lamp cast a warm pink glow over everything.
J was already there, sitting cross-legged on her bed. She wore a cropped pink top that clung to her torso and stopped just above her navel, leaving a generous strip of smooth midriff on display. Below that, a pair of tiny pink lace shorts rode high on her hips, the delicate fabric stretched tight over her curves and barely covering the tops of her thighs. Those thighs looked even more incredible than usual, toned and soft at the same time, the lace hem riding up every time she shifted.
Y/N closed the door behind him. J looked up, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Neither of them spoke at first. They simply watched each other across the short distance of the bed. The air between them felt thick, charged with the memory of the afternoon’s blackmail and the new, unspoken promise that had brought him here.
After a long moment J uncrossed her legs and scooted closer. The mattress dipped under her weight. She lifted her right hand and placed it gently against Y/N’s left cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. Her eyes searched his for any sign of hesitation, then she leaned in.
Their lips met.
At first the kiss was soft, almost experimental, but Y/N leaned into it immediately. He shifted nearer on the bed, his right hand sliding up to cradle the back of J’s neck, fingers threading lightly through her hair.
His left hand found her left thigh and began a slow, steady rub from knee to hip and back again, feeling the warm skin and the faint texture of the lace where the shorts ended. J made a quiet sound against his mouth and pressed closer, her own hand sliding from his cheek to his shoulder.
The kiss deepened quickly. Tongues brushed, breaths grew heavier, and the careful distance between their bodies vanished. Y/N’s hand on her thigh moved higher, fingertips slipping just under the lace hem before retreating again in a teasing rhythm. J’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. Their mouths moved hungrily, wet and insistent, until they finally broke apart, a thin strand of saliva stretching between them before it snapped.
“Wow, that was really good, Y/N. You really knew what you were doing,” J said, voice a little breathless, lips shiny.
“Well, I’ve had a little practice. I’m not a total nerd like you think I am. Plus, there have been a couple of girls in this kpop club and they were very impressed that I was your brother,” Y/N replied.
“Step brother. And did you really make out with them for being my brother?” J asked.
“I guess they had some initiation to complete and I was more than happy to help out, as you can see,” Y/N said.
“Uhh, you’re still an asshole Y/N, but I’m glad I could help out,” J replied.
She glanced down. The front of Y/N’s shorts was tented unmistakably, the thin fabric doing little to hide how hard he had become. J’s eyes widened slightly, then a slow, mischievous smile curved her mouth.
“Looks like someone else is happy to see me,” she said.
“Ohh, that. Yeah, it happens in moments like that, I can’t control it,” Y/N said.
“I’ve never seen one in person before. Would you mind showing me?” J asked.
“I don’t know about that Yeeun-ah. Kissing a couple of times is one thing, teaching you about the birds and the bees while giving a 'hands-on' tutorial wasn't part of the deal. We really shouldn’t cross that line,” Y/N answered.
“Why not? It seems like you’re dying for relief and I want to see it,” J said.
She placed both hands on his chest and gave a firm push. Y/N fell back onto the mattress, the sheets cool against his skin. J crawled forward on her knees until she was straddling his thighs. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of his shorts and began to tug downward, the elastic stretching as she pulled.
As she released his member from the confine of the shorts, J was shocked at how long and thick it was (7 inches), it looked so alive and like it had a mind of it's own.
She touched Y/N's cock with her cold hands which made him shiver. she gave his cock a few tugs and leaned in closer.
"I wonder if it tastes as bad as people say" she said.
"Umm, what are you thinking Yeeun-ah? I thought you just wanted to see it." Y/n said
"I did, but now it's making me even more curious. What if i see one on my date and i don't know what do you with it. I would be so embarrassed."
"You've never seen one before? Y/N asked
"Of course not, i've never kissed a guy before, remember? Sumin unnie had a toy just like it but she never taught me how to use it."
"Sumin had one just like this one??? That's very interesting. Would be such a good idea for an edit." Y/N replied
"Are you really thinking about making your dirty little fap challenges right now? When i'm literally touching your cock? J replied enraged
"You're right, you're right, i'm sorry. So what do you want to know?"
"Like, what do i do with it? How would i know what feels good for him?" J asked
"Well, you can try rubbing it little, then look at his expression. See if he likes it. If he wants you to go faster. If he wants you to use your mouth too." he said
"My mouth??? Like licking it?" J asked nervously
"Yes, J. Like licking it. Try it."
J goes ahead and gives Y/N's dick a few long strokes and that draws a whimper out of him, then J does it again but even faster. "Was that good?" she asks
"That was very good J. Now you can try your mouth too if you want."
"Okay, i guess." she replies
J kisses Y/n's cock a couple of times then puts the tip in her mouth and licks a little pre cum off the top which draws another moan from Y/N.
"It's not bad honestly. But it is pretty dry and salty." J says
"You could spit on it, you know."
J spits on Y/N's cock and puts him back in her mouth, then starts to lick him up and down, squeezing his balls a few times which only makes his cock more desperate for release.
"You're doing so well, noona. Keep going." Y/n says between moans.
That only encourages J to try and go even deeper, sucking more of his cock until it hits the entrance to her throat, which makes her gag and backs off coughing in response.
"It's okay, you're okay." Y/n says as he gently touches J's left cheek. "You were doing so well Yeeun-ah. I'm proud of you."
That seems to bring out a smile from J. "I really wanted to make you feel good for agreeing to help me, but i couldn't go any deeper. I'm sorry, Y/N." she says
"It's okay, noona. I was really enjoying it. It is getting a little late and Jiheon noona should be back from her date soon. I should go back to my room."
"You're right, it's almost midnight, she should be here soon. Plus our parents might check on us. Thank you for teaching me a few things. I really had fun."
Y/N got up from the bed, pulled up his shorts, then leaned in and gave J one last passionate kiss, turned around and went back quietly into his room.
After he got back to his room, just sitting on the bed, replaying that night's activities in his head. Cock still hard and in need of release. He opened up his "collection" on his laptop, scrolled down to a recent fancam of Jisun unnie and finished the job.
Pairing: Karina (aespa) x M!Reader (2nd POV) ft. Male OCs, Friends, and aespa Members
Genres: Smut, Group Sex (I Don't Know?), Truth or Dare, Drunk Club Sex, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Cuckold Elements Tags/Warnings: 18+ explicit content, heavy alcohol use, drunk consensual sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (giving/receiving), cum swallowing, multiple partners, voyeurism, exhibitionism, truth or dare games leading to sex, boyfriend watching best friend fuck his girlfriend, group play with aespa members, various positions (riding, doggy, missionary, standing), light choking, dirty talk, public/risky setting in VIP room. Pure fantasy.
Synopsis: A wild night out at Clifton in Gangnam turns filthy when a drunken Truth or Dare game in the private VIP room gets out of hand. Karina, your best friend’s gorgeous girlfriend, ends up in your lap while he watches from the couch, and the rest of the aespa girls plus your crew join in. Exhibitionism and liquid courage make everything feel electric.
The bass from Clifton’s main floor thumped through the walls of the VIP room like a second heartbeat. Gangnam nights always hit different, but tonight was next level. Bottles of soju and whiskey covered the low table, half-empty glasses everywhere. You were comfortably buzzed, sprawled on the big leather couch with your crew and the aespa girls who’d somehow ended up tagging along after their schedule wrapped early.
Karina sat across from you, legs crossed in that tiny black dress that rode up her thighs every time she laughed. Her boyfriend—your best friend since college—had his arm around her shoulders, but his eyes kept drifting to the way she kept glancing at you. The game had started innocent enough. Truth or Dare. Classic.
Then the dares got bolder.
“Karina,” one of the guys slurred, grinning. “I dare you to sit on his lap for the next three rounds.” He pointed straight at you.
Her boyfriend chuckled, but it sounded a little strained. “Go on, babe. It’s just a game.”
Karina bit her lip, eyes sparkling with alcohol and mischief as she stood up. The room watched as she crossed the space and dropped right into your lap, her ass pressing firmly against your crotch. She smelled like sweet perfume and whiskey. “This okay?” she whispered, voice low enough that only you heard.
You nodded, hands resting on her hips to steady her. The game continued, but the energy in the room had shifted. Truths got dirtier. Dares got riskier. Soon enough another dare landed on her.
“Kiss him. Like you mean it.”
She turned in your lap, straddling you now, and cupped your face. Her lips crashed into yours—hot, sloppy, tasting like cherries and liquor. The room whooped. Her boyfriend watched silently from the couch, drink in hand, cheeks flushed. You kissed her deeper, tongue sliding against hers while your hands roamed up her back. She ground down against you slowly, feeling you harden underneath her.
“Fuck,” someone muttered—maybe one of your friends, maybe one of the other aespa members. Winter was giggling on the next couch, Jisu leaning in close to watch with wide eyes.
Karina pulled back, breathing hard. “Dare me again,” she said to the group, but her eyes stayed on you.
The next dare came fast. “Let him fuck you while your boyfriend watches.”
The room went quiet for a second, then erupted in nervous laughter. But Karina didn’t hesitate. She looked over at her boyfriend. He gave a small nod, gripping his glass tighter. “If that’s what you want tonight…”
She turned back to you, already tugging at your belt. “I want it.”
You pushed her dress up around her waist, finding her soaked through her lace panties. The VIP room had dim lights and tinted windows—no one outside could see in, but the thrill that anyone might was enough. Exhibitionism at its finest. You slid her panties aside and freed your cock, rubbing it against her wet folds.
Karina sank down on you with a broken moan, taking every inch in one smooth motion. The stretch made her head fall back, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. “Oh my god… you’re so thick,” she gasped.
You gripped her ass and guided her as she started riding you right there in front of everyone. Slow at first, then faster, her tits bouncing under the thin fabric of her dress. Her boyfriend watched from just a few feet away, breathing heavy, one hand palming himself through his pants. The sight of him watching only made her wetter.
“Shit, look at her go,” one of your friends said, voice thick with arousal. Winter had moved closer, biting her lip as she watched Karina fuck herself on your cock.
You pulled the top of her dress down, exposing her perfect breasts, and sucked one nipple into your mouth while she rode you harder. The wet sounds of her pussy taking you echoed in the small room. Someone—maybe Ningning—had started making out with one of the guys on the other couch. The whole place had turned into a haze of alcohol and lust.
Karina leaned in, moaning against your ear. “Daddy’s cock feels so good… better than his.” Her boyfriend groaned at that, eyes glued to where you were disappearing inside her.
You flipped her around into reverse cowgirl so everyone had a better view. She braced her hands on your knees and bounced, ass jiggling with every thrust. You reached around to rub her clit, making her cry out. The other aespa girls were touching themselves now, caught up in the heat.
“Gonna cum,” she whimpered. “Fill me up—cum inside me while he watches.”
You thrust up hard, burying yourself deep as you spilled into her, thick ropes of cum painting her walls. Karina shook through her own orgasm, clenching around you so tight it almost hurt. When she slid off, your cum leaked down her thighs. She dropped to her knees immediately, taking you into her mouth to clean you off, swallowing the mix of both of you with eager little hums.
But the night wasn’t over.
The game kept going. You ended up bending Winter over the table next, fucking her from behind while Karina made out with her boyfriend—payback, maybe. Then Karina was back in your lap, this time in missionary on the couch, legs wrapped around you as you drove into her again. Her boyfriend sat right beside you, watching every thrust, every moan.
You pulled out at one point and had her suck you off while Jisu sat on your face. The room smelled like sex and spilled liquor. Positions blurred together—Karina on all fours getting fucked while she ate out another girl, you standing and holding her up against the wall for everyone to see, more creampies, more cum on tongues and tits.
By the end, everyone was spent and sticky. Karina curled up against you on the couch, dress still half-off, your cum still dripping out of her. Her boyfriend sat on her other side, quietly stroking her hair.
“Best fucking dare ever,” she slurred with a lazy smile, kissing your jaw.
You chuckled, pulling a blanket over the three of you. The club music still pulsed faintly outside. The rest of the group was tangled up in various states of undress, laughing softly now that the intensity had faded into warm afterglow.
Karina nuzzled closer, voice soft. “Don’t tell anyone outside this room, okay? Our little secret.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, kissing the top of her head.
The night at Clifton would stay locked in the VIP room—filthy, drunk, and unforgettable.
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