Hey! If you could sign the members of Itzy for the Vixen Media Group porn sites, who would you sign? You could sign them for multiple ones as well 💙
Yeji
for Wifey
Yeji is the perfect choice for Wifey. Her fierce yet elegant visuals, sharp charisma, and natural dominance mixed with submissive moments make her an ideal hot wife.
She walks onto set with a confident smirk, dressed in luxurious lingerie that highlights her toned body. Yeji loves playing the cute but naughty wife who has her husband filming her getting stretched by other men. She usually starts with slow, intimate blowjobs, maintaining eye contact while drooling on someone's cock. Her favorite is riding a man's cock in cowgirl, hips rolling as she moans for him and her husband.
“Does my pussy feel good, baby?”
Yeji takes deep creampies with a huge smile, pushing the cum back inside her while looking at her husband.
Lia
for Vixen
Lia blushes at first but melts on camera. She excels in romantic, intimate scenes with soft lighting, silk sheets, and passionate eye contact. She gives slow, sloppy blowjobs with her pretty lips, moaning sweetly around cock. In missionary, her big doe eyes water beautifully as she takes thrust after thrust. Her melodic voice whimpers in pleasure.
Her body is incredibly responsive. She trembles and cums easily, legs wrapped tightly around her costar's hips as she begs.
“Please cum inside me…”
Her innocent-looking face contrasting with how greedily she takes load after load makes her extremely popular.
Ryujin
for Blacked Raw
Ryujin smirks at the camera before dropping to her knees, spitting on big black cocks and deepthroating aggressively. Ryujin loves getting manhandled. Rough doggy style, hair pulling, and choking while moaning.
“Fuck me harder with that big cock.”
She throws it back enthusiastically, her toned body glistening with sweat as she gets pounded. Ryujin takes massive creampies and facials without hesitation, often smirking arrogantly right after being filled. Most of her videos end with her stumbling out of a random hotel room, her hair and makeup a mess, her clothes not properly put together.
Chaeryeong
for Tushy
Chaeryeong’s elegant body and dedicated personality make her perfect for Tushy’s anal-focused content.
She starts shy but becomes incredibly needy once her ass is stretched. Her long legs and flexibility allow for beautiful positions as she takes sometimes several cocks in a row. Chaeryeong moans gracefully, face buried in the sheets while pushing back.
"It’s so deep in my ass…You're gaping me...”
Her favourite are slow, soft anal scenes that gradually turn intense. Most of her videos are more girlfriend themed. She's knwon for her sweet, slow moaning scenes, that turn into rough pounding, until her body gives out. Her graceful movements and the way her body trembles after intense orgasms make every scene mesmerizing. Viewers love her elegant beauty getting ruined by how hard her costars ruin her toward the ends of her scenes.
Yuna
for Tushy Raw
Yuna bounces around the set with her usual playful smile, but once the scene starts, that innocent energy turns into something much filthier. Yuna loves getting her tight ass stretched on camera. She starts by teasing the viewer, spreading her cheeks and giggling nervously before moaning loudly as a thick cock pushes into her ass.
“It’s so big… but I can take it."
She says in her cutest voice that quickly becomes desperate.
Her flexibility shines as she gets folded into deep anal positions with her favorite, reverse cowgirl where she bounces energetically, ass rippling with every drop. Yuna is vocal and enthusiastic even in the rawest scenes, moaning shamelessly, pushing back for more, and giggling between gasps when it feels especially intense. She takes rough, deep anal pounding without hesitation, her pretty face contorting in pleasure as she cums hard from her ass being fucked.
Compared to Chaeryeong, she doesn't need to start slow. Some of her scenes start with going right into the action without foreplay at all. Just Yuna, bent over, someone already using her ass.
After getting thoroughly fucked, she loves showing a messy creampie or facial, pushing the cum out of her stretched hole while smiling brightly at the camera. Her combination of youthful cuteness and eagerness to get her ass ruined makes her addicting to watch.
Finally, I'm really back. I'm not gonna say much, my life got sorted out (at last).
So, I will be able to dedicate more time to managing this account. I truly appreciate everyone who waits for me.
Thank you!
Do check my PATREON if anyone is interested. It is totally optional, just a little something for the readers who want extra content.
Anyway, enjoy!
The bass is a throb in the floor that travels up through the soles of your dress shoes and into your teeth. Strobe lights cut through the haze, illuminating glimpses of sweat-slick skin, gyrating bodies, and the glint of expensive liquor.
You lean against a pillar, the cheap fabric of your rented black suit already itching. Extra bouncer. A fancy term for a glorified coat rack with a pulse. Your job is to look big, nod at the real security, and occasionally point some coked-up finance bro toward the bathroom. It’s boring, it’s demeaning, but the cash is good and it gets you behind the velvet rope of Oblivion, a place where connections are the only currency that matters.
That’s why your brain short-circuits when you see her.
Shin Yuna. Of ITZY. Standing near a low-slung booth, looking almost lost amidst the decadence. She’s dressed down in a fire-engine red cropped shirt that shows a toned stomach, and low-rise skinny jeans.
The simplicity is a lie. On her tall, slender frame, those jeans are a fucking masterpiece, clinging to the dramatic swell of her hips and the round curve of her ass. It’s a casual outfit that screams “look at me”. And you are. Your mouth goes a little dry.
What the hell is a top-tier idol like her doing in a pit like this? Oblivion is for has-beens, low-tier actors, idols, and influencers desperate for a taste of real scandal. Not for a star shining as bright as Yuna.
Heat uncurls in your gut. Maybe she’s here for the same reason everyone else is. The unspoken rule of Oblivion: everyone is fair game. The pretense of celebrity melts away under the lights, replaced by a raw, transactional hunger. She knows what this place is. She has to. Unless she’s naive, or playing some stupid game.
You push off the pillar, smoothing your suit jacket. Your task is nothing. You have time. A smile, polite and fan-like, is plastered on your face as you approach.
“Excuse me, Miss? I’m sorry to bother you, but… are you Shin Yuna? From ITZY?”
She turns, those doe-like eyes widening slightly. A tinge of surprise, then a practiced, professional warmth. “Oh. Yes, that’s me.”
“Wow. I’m a huge fan,” you say, the lie smooth as silk. “I just had to say hello. It’s an honor to see you here.” You keep your distance, respectful.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy gesture that makes your dick twitch. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“Are you enjoying the atmosphere?” you ask, gesturing vaguely at the writhing dance floor.
“It’s intense,” she says with a light laugh. “A little different.”
You’re about to lean in, to ask if she’d like a drink away from the noise, when a shadow falls over you. A presence, sharp and protective. Shin Ryujin slides next to Yuna, her arm a casual but definite barrier. Her gaze, when it lands on you, isn’t warm. It’s assessing, cold, and utterly dismissive.
“Everything okay here, Yuna?” Ryujin’s voice is lower and flatter than her group mate’s.
“Yes, unnie! This gentleman is a fan,” Yuna says, her voice sweet.
Ryujin doesn’t look at you like you’re a fan. She looks at you like you’re a stain on the carpet. “That’s nice. The staff usually don’t bother the guests, though.” A direct hit, delivered with a razor-thin smile.
Annoyance, hot and acidic, burns in your throat. You want to wipe that superior look off her face. You rough bitch. But you keep the mask. The good guy. The harmless fan.
“My apologies,” you say, taking a step back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Just paying my respects. I will leave you to your evening.” You offer Yuna one last smile. “Really nice to meet you.” You turn and walk back to your pillar, the pleasant smile dropping from your face the moment your back is to them.
Cockblocking cunt.
You watch them from your post. Yuna sips a cocktail, Ryujin a vigilant sentinel at her side, her eyes constantly scanning the room. The game is delayed, not over. You wait. You have nothing but time.
The opportunity comes maybe twenty minutes later. Ryujin says something to Yuna, then stands, smoothing her own skirt. She weaves through the crowd, heading toward the hall where the restrooms are. Finally.
You don’t pounce. Amateurs pounce. You just shift your stance, catching Yuna’s eye from across the room. You hold it for a second, then look away, a faint smile on your lips. You do it again a minute later. She’s alone, a little adrift. She notices.
And then, to your surprise, she’s the one walking toward you. A flutter of triumph in your chest.
“Excuse me?” Yuna says, holding out her phone. She smells like fresh roses and earthy. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I got this message from the club system? I just want to make sure I’m reading it right. My English isn’t perfect.”
You take the phone. The screen glows with a simple, stark text from Oblivion Management: Shin Yuna. Your queue is now active. Proceed to the VIP elevator for ascension to Floors 3-5. Welcome.
Fuck. VIP. Of course. She’s not just visiting; she’s been upgraded. Your chance, your little fantasy is evaporating. The VIP floors are another world, guarded by real professionals, not extras like you. The anger is sudden and violent, a white-hot spike behind your eyes. But you keep it buried.
“Congratulations,” you say, handing the phone back, your voice filled with genuine-sounding awe. “You’re a VIP now. That’s a big deal here.”
Her face lights up with a mix of confusion and excitement. “Really? Oh! I didn’t expect that.”
“It’s an honor,” you say, the words tasting like ash. You see an opening, a sliver of a chance. “It can be a maze up there. I’d be happy to guide you to the elevator, make sure you get to the right place.”
She nods, grateful. “Thank you, that would be—”
“What’s going on?”
Ryujin is back. She inserts herself between you and Yuna, her posture rigid. Her eyes dart from Yuna’s face to yours, suspicion etched into every feature.
“Unnie! I got a message. I’m a VIP now! He was just helping me understand it,” Yuna explains, showing Ryujin her phone.
Ryujin scans the message, then checks her own phone. Her brow furrows. “I didn’t get anything.”
“I can wait with you,” Yuna offers immediately, lacing her arm through Ryujin’s. “Until your queue comes up.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ryujin says, though her jaw is tight. “You should go. It’s fine. I’ll wait here.” She forces a smile for Yuna. “Go have fun. I’ll call if I need anything.”
You seize the moment, layering on a coat of false courtesy. “With your permission, Miss Ryujin,” you say, tilting your head, “I can make sure she finds the VIP elevator. Wouldn’t want her to get lost.”
You see the conflict in Ryujin’s eyes. She doesn’t trust you an inch, but causing a scene, denying Yuna her VIP access with a staff member offering help, would look bad.
She hesitates, then gives a short nod. “Fine. Straight to the elevator. No detours.” Her eyes drill into yours, a silent threat.
“Of course,” you say smoothly.
You lead Yuna through the pulsating crowd, your hand hovering near the dimple of her back without touching it. You point out the matte-black doors of the VIP elevator, manned by a guard in a far better suit than yours.
“Right through there,” you say.
Yuna turns, giving you that dazzling smile. “Thank you so much for your help. Really.”
You nod, your own smile feeling like a grimace. “My pleasure. Have a good time up there.”
She steps toward the elevator. The guard looks at you, then at his tablet. He holds up a hand, stopping you both. “Staff clearance is for the main floor and basement only. You can’t go up.”
Fucking hell. The frustration is a live wire in your veins. One obstacle after another. Your molars grind together so hard you hear the scrape. You force yourself to breathe.
Yuna looks back at you, gives an apologetic little shrug, and then the guard scans a code on her phone. The elevator doors sigh open, revealing a plush, mirrored interior. She steps inside, turns, and offers a final, small wave.
The doors slide shut, swallowing her whole. Your prey. Gone.
You stand there for a long moment, staring at your own distorted reflection in the polished black metal. The throbbing bass, the laughter, the scent of sweat and perfume—it all feels suddenly abrasive, mocking.
You exhale, a long, slow stream of air that does nothing to cool the furnace now burning in your chest. You turn on your heel and walk back to your useless post by the pillar, your hands curling into fists at your sides.
The night is long. The VIP elevator has just swallowed your opportunity. But down here, in the gutter of Oblivion, plans can change. Rules can bend. And frustration like yours doesn’t just fade away.
The walk back to your pillar is a slow burn of simmering rage. Your eyes scan the room, not for trouble, but for a new target. And they find her immediately.
Shin Ryujin.
She’s back at the booth. One leg crossed over the other, a picture of composed impatience. But you see the subtle tells. The manner in which her thighs press together tightly, a slow, unconscious squeeze as well as the way her fingers tap a restless rhythm on the table.
She’s waiting, and she’s not happy about it. A few people stop by—a bleary-eyed actor you recognize from a third-rate drama, a giggling influencer with too much filler.
Ryujin offers them tight, polite smiles, exchanges a few words, but her eyes keep drifting toward the hall where Yuna disappeared. She’s the guard dog left behind, and she’s getting anxious.
A new plan, clicks into place in your mind. Yuna or Ryujin. It doesn’t fucking matter. One is sweet nectar, the other is spiked liquor.
Your cock, hard and aching with frustrated intent, isn’t a picky eater. It just wants to be fed. And to feed it, you need to get past those walls. You need to get on her good side, even if it’s just for a moment.
You move to the nearest service bar, your extra-staff lanyard getting you a nod from the overworked bartender. “Something for a guest,” you say, your voice all business.
You order a mocktail, something fruity and innocent-looking in a tall glass. While the bartender’s back is turned, crushing ice, your hand dips into the inner pocket of your cheap suit.
A small, clear vial. Two drops of a colorless, odorless liquid—a little something you “acquired” for nights just like this. It’s not a knockout drug. It’s a loosener. A greaser for the wheels of inhibition. You stir it with a straw, watching it vanish into the vibrant red liquid.
Glass in hand, you approach her booth. She sees you coming and her posture stiffens, that familiar cold assessment returning to her eyes.
“Miss Ryujin,” you say, placing the drink on the table in front of her with a respectful nod. “A complimentary drink. Non-alcoholic. You look like you could use a refreshment while you wait.”
She doesn’t touch it. Just stares at you. “I didn’t order this.”
“I know. My apology,” you say, taking a half-step back, putting your hands in your pockets in a non-threatening gesture.
You let your voice soften, lacing it with contrition. “For earlier. I overstepped. I let my fanboy side get the better of me when I should have been professional. It won’t happen again. I truly mean no harm.” You meet her gaze, holding it with what you hope looks like sincere regret.
She studies you for a long, silent moment. The music thumps around you. Finally, she uncrosses her legs, but the wariness doesn’t leave her face. She doesn’t say a word.
Good enough. You’ve planted the seed. “I’ll leave you to it,” you say, giving another small, polite nod. “Please, let me know if you need anything at all.” You turn, beginning to walk away, counting the steps in your head.
One. Two. Three—
“Wait.”
You stop, turning back slowly, an eyebrow raised in polite inquiry.
She’s looking at the drink, then back at you. “What’s it like?” she asks, her voice is quieter now, less confrontational. “Up there. On the VIP floors. Is the performance really that grand?”
Jackpot.
Her words are an electric jolt of victory straight to your groin. She has no idea. Neither of them does. It’s almost laughable, the sheer, shocking naivety of it. They walked into the lion’s den thinking it was a petting zoo.
You let a carefully crafted look of mild surprise cross your face. “I thought everyone who came here knew what Oblivion was about.”
Ryujin shrugs, a defensive gesture. “A senior recommended it. Said it was a good place for a side gig during our free time. To network.”
The lie you weave is smooth, effortless. “Ah. I see. Well, the VIP floors are exclusive. The performances are fancy. But,” you lean in slightly, lowering your voice as if sharing a confidence, “getting the queue message doesn’t always mean you will perform. Sometimes, you’re just invited to watch. To be part of the audience. Yuna might just be a spectator up there as we speak.”
She digests this, her eyes searching your face for deceit. You hold steady, the picture of a little awkward but helpful staff member. She gives a slow nod. “So it’s nothing shady, then.”
The laugh you suppress is almost painful. “Of course not,” you say, your voice the very sound of reassurance. A big, fat, beautiful lie. “It’s all about prestige. An experience.” You offer her a warmer smile. “Your queue will probably come through soon. They usually stagger invitations.”
Ryujin lets out a long, slow exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing a fraction. The anxious guard dog is being soothed. Her eyes drop to the tall, red glass on the table. She reaches for it, her fingers wrapping around the stem.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice still guarded but lacking its earlier ice.
“My pleasure,” you reply. You watch, your heart hammering a violent rhythm against your ribs, as she brings the glass to her lips. She takes a sip. Then a longer, deeper drink, her throat working as she swallows. The fruity concoction must be to her taste, or her thirst is greater than her suspicion.
You don’t wait for her to finish. You’ve seen what you needed to see. The hook is baited and set.
“I should get back to my post,” you say quickly, giving her one last, professional smile. “Enjoy your drink, Miss Ryujin.”
You turn and walk away toward a shadowed alcove near the service corridor. From there, you have an unobstructed view of her booth. You lean against the wall, the cool plaster a contrast to the feverish heat under your skin.
She finishes the drink, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink. A few minutes pass. She checks her phone again, frowns, and sets it aside. She runs a hand through her dark hair, then rubs at her temple.
The first sign. A slight flush begins to creep up her neck, visible even in the strobe-lit gloom. She uncrosses and recrosses her legs, the movement less controlled now. She fans herself briefly with her hand.
The chemical is doing its work. Not dulling her, not putting her to sleep. It’s peeling away the layers of control, of caution. It’s making the room warmer, the lights more hypnotic, the wait more intolerable. It’s softening the edges of her sharp vigilance.
You wait. You let the drug and the environment work in tandem. She declines another drink from a passing waiter with a shake of her head, but her movements are looser.
She leans back in the booth, her gaze drifting across the dance floor, no longer laser-focused on the elevator. The protective hawk is becoming a drowsy dove.
The good guy act has served its purpose. The apology, the free drink, the reassuring lies—they were the keys to the cage. Now, the cage door is swinging open. Your new prey is sitting there, her defenses chemically compromised, alone in a sea of predators where you are the one who knows the terrain best.
You push off the wall, adjusting the front of your trousers where your erection strains the fabric.
The chemical fire works its way through her system beautifully. You watch from the shadows as Ryujin’s composed edges begin to melt. A sheen of sweat glistens on her collarbones, exposed by her off-shoulder white shirt. She fans herself again, then presses her palms to her flushed cheeks. Her breaths, from this distance, look deeper, less controlled.
When she stands up, it is a swaying, unsteady lurch. Her hand slaps down on the table to steady herself, her cocktail glass tipping over. She takes one wobbling step away from the booth, her eyes glassy and unfocused.
This is your cue.
You’re behind her in three silent strides. Your arms go around her torso, ostensibly to catch her, but you pull her back onto your chest.
Her firm ass directly grinds the thick, rigid line of your cock straining your trousers. You rut against her ass once, a deliberate motion disguised as catching her weight.
“Whoa there! Easy, Miss Ryujin. Are you alright?” Your voice is right by her ear, thick with false concern.
She stiffens, a jolt of awareness fighting through the chemical haze. She tries to push your arms away, but her strength is sapped. “I’m… I’m fine. Just dizzy. You can let go.” Her words are slurred, her breathing coming in heavier pants.
“You’re not fine. You’re about to fall. Let me take you to the staff rest area, it’s quiet there,” you say, your hands sliding down from her ribs to her hips, holding her firmly.
“No,” she insists, a weak tremor in her voice. “I said let go.” She tries to wrench herself sideways, but her legs are uncooperative rubber.
“Too bad,” you murmur, the pretense of helpfulness evaporating like smoke.
You shift your grip, one arm locking around her waist, the other hooking under her arm. She’s tall, but you’re bigger, and the drug has made her dead weight.
You half-drag, half-carry her away from the main floor, toward a dim, soundproofed corridor marked ‘PRIVATE’ with a small, red light above the archway. The real VIPs go up. The extracurricular activities happen down here.
She mumbles incoherent protests, her head lolling. To test her, to taste her resistance, your hand on her waist slips down, roughly palming her full ass through her skirt, squeezing hard to make her gasp.
At the same time, you duck your head and press your wet, open mouth to the hot skin of her neck, biting down on the tendon before lapping at it, then sucking her earlobe between your teeth.
“S-stop… get off… Eugh!” she shouts, but it’s a weak, breathy sound, lost in the muffled bass from the main room. Her struggle is pathetic, a feeble twitching against your iron-clad hold.
You reach an unmarked door, shove it open with your shoulder, and kick it shut behind you. The room is small, utilitarian: a large, padded platform masquerading as a bed, a shelf with towels, a table with sex stuff, and harsh overhead lighting.
With a contemptuous heave, you shove her onto the padded surface. She lands on her back with a soft whump, her skirt riding high up her thighs. For a moment, she just lies there, dazed, chest heaving.
You stand at the foot of the platform, your eyes raking over her supine form. You pull your cheap suit jacket off and let it drop to the floor, your tie follows. You yank your shirt over your head, kicking your shoes off simultaneously. Your bare chest expands with a deep, anticipatory breath.
Ryujin tries to push herself up on her elbows, her vision swimming. “What… what are you doing…?”
You climb onto the platform, kneeling between her splayed legs. You don’t touch her yet. You just loom over her, a dark shape blocking the single light from the ceiling.
“Don’t worry about me,” Your voice is a low, cruel rasp. “Worry about Yuna. She’s probably having so much fun upstairs by now.”
Ryujin’s bleary eyes sharpen with a fragment of clarity. “Yuna…?”
You unbuckle your belt, the click-clack of the leather unnaturally loud in the small room. “Yeah. Pretty, tall Yuna. You know how many dicks in this club have set their eyes on her?
She’s one of the most popular gooning topics around here. Everyone’s had a piece of her in their fantasies. And now she’s up there, in the VIP rooms, where fantasies become receipts.”
Her brain, fogged and slow, struggles to parse your words. “What… what the hell do you mean by that?” she slurs, confusion and dawning horror warring on her face.
You don’t answer with words. You answer with your hands. Both shoot out and grab the bare skin of her exposed thighs, just above her knees. Your grip pinning her limbs in place.
“NO!” The scream is raw and sudden, fueled by a last surge of adrenaline. She tries to spring up, her legs kicking out between your arms, her feet scrambling against the sheets.
It only excites you more. Shifting one hand from her thigh to her throat. You don’t squeeze to choke yet—you press down, pinning her upper body to the bed, using your weight to immobilize her.
“Stay. Down,” you grunt.
Your other hand releases her thigh and goes to the side zip of her skirt. You yank it down in one harsh rip.
Her free hands fly up, clawing weakly at your solid, bare chest and shoulders. Her nails scrape harmlessly over your skin, a kitten’s protest.
Her eyes, wide with terror and chemical confusion, stare up at you as you loom over her, her skirt now open, her vulnerability laid bare beneath the denim.
The fight is leaching out of her, replaced by a terrifying, drugged helplessness
Normally, on nights like this, you like to take your time. Savor the fear, the trembling, the slow unraveling of a victim’s will.
But the image of Yuna disappearing behind those elevator doors, the sight of Ryujin’s haughty face cracking under the haze—it’s pushed you past the point of patience. You are a wire pulled taut, and she is the only ground.
You make quick work of her safety shorts.
Your hand rips at the thin, black fabric stretched over her hips. The material, meant to protect her modesty from the world, is no match for your raw strength.
There’s a loud, satisfying rrriiippp as you tear the sides apart, yanking the ruined scrap down her thighs and discarding it somewhere on the floor.
She’s left in nothing but her open, unzipped skirt bunched around her waist, her underwear—a plain, white cotton pair—damp with a hint of betrayal.
“No… get off… ugh!” she whimpers, her voice cracking.
You don’t even bother to remove the underwear. You just hook a finger under the crotch and pull it aside, exposing her pussy to the dim light of the room.
It’s smooth and puffy, freshly shaved or waxed or whatever idols do for maintenance. There’s not a single hair covering the soft, swollen lips. And despite her terror, her body is betraying her.
The flesh is glistening, sticky, and wet, a thin sheen of natural lubrication spreading down her crack.
The drug courses through her veins loosening every muscle, every nerve, turning her fear into a heat that seeps out of her most intimate places.
Her arm flails, hitting your forearm with weak slaps as your other hand maintains the pressure on her throat. She’s heaving, her chest rising and falling in panicked bursts, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
You loosen your grip on her throat to let her breathe, then slide your hand down. Two fingers find her slit. You rub them along her puffy lips, spreading the moisture, pressing to part them.
She jerks and thrashes beneath you, but her body is a rag doll. “Oh, look at that,” you say, a chuckle bubbling up from your chest. “You’re soaking already. You can tell me you don’t want this, but your cunt is singing a different song.”
You bring your slick fingers to your mouth. You suck them clean, tasting her sweet, drug-spiced nectar. “Fuck. That’s good.”
Her face contorts in a grimace of shame and horror. “N-No… don’t…” The words are barely a whisper.
“Relax,” you say, the command dripping with mock gentleness. “Or this might be painful.”
You fumble with your own trousers, yanking the waistband down, freeing your cock. It springs out, thick and hard, and engorged, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. She sees it, her eyes widening in sheer terror. She tries to close her thighs, but you’re between them.
Your free hand guides the tip to her entrance. You nudge the slick flesh with the blunt, swollen head, teasing her, pressing just slightly before pulling back. Her body goes rigid as a board. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. She shakes her head frantically, a mute plea.
“Shhh,” you coo. “It’s going to be okay.”
With a small push, your cockhead slips inside her pussy. Her body seizes. A strangled gasp escapes her as the thick crown stretches her entrance, forcing its way into her warm channel.
She is a virgin to this, at least to this kind of violation. Her pussy clenches around the intrusion, trying in vain to push it out. Tears finally spill from the corners of her eyes, rolling down her temples and into her hair.
She is fully aware now—the haze is not enough to dull the reality of the thick, foreign flesh invading her private body part. She is helpless. Raped. Her dignity shatters with every inch.
You release your cock, using that hand instead to grip her meaty inner thigh. You push it down on the mattress, spreading her wider, making her completely open and vulnerable.
Then you move your hips. A slow, grinding push. Your cock sinks deeper into her pussy, claiming territory her body has never surrendered. The tight, wet heat is intoxicating. A low groan drawn from deep in your chest escapes your mouth.
“Fuck,” you breathe. “I didn’t expect your pussy to be this good.” You laugh, a dirty sound that makes her grimace through the tears streaming down her face. “Look at you. Crying like a baby. But your body is loving every second of it.”
You pull back, then you snap your hips forward as the last remaining length of your cock spears into her pussy in one sudden deep thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin is loud.
She lets out a choked scream, her back arching off the bed, a pain so sharp and immediate it cuts through the drug’s fog.
Her nails dig into your forearms, not to push you away but just to hold onto something, anything, as the full length of you buries itself inside her, hilt-deep, pressing her cervix.
You pause for a moment, savoring the tight, raw feel of her convulsing. Her sobs are silent now, muffled by the hand you clamp over her mouth, the other hand pinning both of her wrists above her head. She is completely at your mercy, split open, filled to the brim, utterly consumed.
Your voice is a ragged whisper in her ear as you begin to move, slow at first, then with a building, merciless rhythm. “You’re going to take every last drop of my cum, and you’re going to hate yourself for how much you’ll enjoy it by the end.”
Your hips find a rhythm, a piston-like tempo that shakes the luxurious mattress. Each thrust is a reclaiming of every ounce of control she’s ever had. The room fills with the wet schlick-schlick of your cock driving into her soaked pussy, and the muffled, broken whimpers losing the battle against your palm.
“Mmnnngh—nngh, hngggh, s-stop—”
Her muffled pleas vibrate through your hand, through her skull, as her body jerks with every impact. Her eyes are rolled back, tears mixing with sweat, her makeup smearing into a tragic mess.
Her thighs tremble, spread wide and helpless, one pinned down by your hand, the other jerking weakly beside your hip. You pull your hand off her mouth to better enjoy her cries.
“Please, no, it hurts, oh god, it hurts, please, why are you doing this, please—” The words tumble out in a broken, shrill flood, each one punctuated by the crack of your balls meeting her ass.
“Because you’re a stuck-up bitch who thought she was too good for this club,” you snarl, your face hovering inches above hers. “You thought you could just sit there, looking down your nose at me, protecting your little princess Yuna? Look at you now. Look at what’s buried inside that cunt.”
Your hand cracks across her cheek. The slap is sharp, a bright red handprint blooming on her flushed skin. Her head snaps to the side, but your cock stays buried inside her, throbbing.
She sobs, a raw, ragged sound. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry, please—I won’t—I won't tell anyone—please stop—”
You laugh, withdrawing your cock almost fully then slam home again, a single, devastating thrust that makes her entire body arch off the bed. “No, shit. Of course you won't. Just stay still, bitch.” You slap her other cheek for good measure, harder. Her head lolls, vision spinning.
Your thumb finds her clit, swollen and wet, and you press down on it as you continue fucking her. Her eyes go wide in shock, her mouth open in a scream that won’t come out. “No! Gahhh—No—! Stop touching me there! Oh shit— nnghh—”
Her words dissolve into a moan, involuntary and shameful. Her body betrays her, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around your shaft, coating you in another wave of creamy, drug-induced slickness. It leaks out around your cock, staining the sheets beneath her.
“Look at that,” you say, pulling out slightly to watch the milky cream gather at her entrance before ramming back in, making it foam. “Your useless cunt is weeping for me. Soaking my cock. And yet you’re lying there like a dead fish. A whore who can’t even admit she loves it.”
“I don’t—I hate it— aaahhhnngh—” She chokes on a strangled cry as you angle deeper, hitting a spot that makes her stiffen, her back arching so far it seems like a bow. Her hands ball into fists, her nails scoring the sheets, her knuckles white.
“Hate it? Hmm?” You slow down just for a second and pull her skirt up. You grip her chest through her off-shoulder shirt, roughly squeezing her small but firm tits, twisting her nipples through the fabric. She howls.
“You’re dripping, your cunt is strangling my cock, and you say you hate it? What will Yuna say when she finds out her unnie is a lying, moaning whore?”
At the mention of Yuna, Ryujin’s face contorts with a fresh wave of anguish.
A mournful sob escapes her. “Don’t—don’t mention her—please—she can’t know—she can’t— ohhh nnnghh—”
“She won’t know,” you hiss, your pace quickening again, reverting to the hammering. “She’s too busy being a pretty little doll for the VIPs. But you, poor Ryujin, they’ll find you here, pregnant with my cum, and I’ll tell everyone you begged for it.”
Her weeping intensifies, her body stiffening, a shudder running through her like an electric current. She tries to close her legs, but you wedge your knees between them, forcing them apart.
Your hand flies again, this time landing on her breast, a loud slap on the flesh that echoes in the small room. She whimpers, her mouth open, a string of drool running from the corner of her lips. Her eyes are unfocused, alternating between terror and a haze.
“It hurts… I’m so tight… you’re too big…” she gasps, her voice barely audible.
“That’s because you’re a tight little virgin,” you grunt, your strokes becoming shorter, faster, brutal. “A tight, pathetic little virgin who’s never been properly stuffed. Aren’t you grateful? I’m giving you this experience for free. My cock is worth more than your entire group’s revenue.”
Her hands weakly push at your chest, sliding off sweat-slick skin. “Please… slow down… I can’t… I can’t take it… mmmyyaaahhh!” A sharp moan escapes as you hit her deepest part again.
Her pussy clenches in a convulsive, convulsing spasm; not pleasure, but overwhelming stimulation burning through her nerve endings.
You feel your own building release, a tightening in your balls, a shuddering in your spine. You don’t slow down. You chase it, your hips a blur, your balls slapping her ass with wet thwacks. The room is filled with the sounds of your grunts, her broken sobs, the squelching of your pistoning cock.
“You feel that, slut?” you growl, leaning down to bite her neck, hard to bruise. “I’m about to cum. And I’m going to cum right inside your worthless cunt. I’m going to fill you up with my cum. You’ll be carrying my bastard, knowing every time you look in the mirror that you were too weak to stop me.”
She thrashes, a last, desperate attempt. “No! Not inside! Pull out! Please, God, no! I’m not on—I’m not safe! Please! AAAAHHH!” Her scream is piercing, her body going rigid, stiff as a board.
Her inner walls clamp down, not with pleasure, but with pure panic, a vice-like resistance that only makes your own climax more violent.
Your hand snaps out, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at you. “Look at me,” you snarl through gritted teeth. “Look at the man who owns you.”
Her tear-streaked face, contorted in agony, stares up at you with droopy, broken eyes. And you feel it. The surge, the peak, the explosion.
A groan rips from your throat as you slam deep one final time, your cock twitching violently as you pump load after thick load of hot, sticky cum deep into her womb.
She feels a hot, foreign flood spreading inside her, filling her to overflowing. Her body convulses, her legs shaking, her toes curling, a pathetic, strangled wail escaping her lips as she sobs through her own helpless climax of fear and overstimulation.
You stay there, buried to the hilt, panting, savoring the feeling of her spasming around your cock. Her body is limp, broken, a heaving wreck on the mattress. Cum drips out around your shaft, a viscous, creamy mixture staining the sheets.
You pull out slowly, letting the cum ooze out of her gaping, used pussy. “Don’t think this is over, Shin Ryujin. We have all night.”
You pull out of her pussy with a wet squish, your cock glistening with a mixture of her juices and your cum.
Ryujin lies there, a crumpled, trembling heap on the mattress. Her chest heaves with hitching breaths, her eyes half-lidded, staring at nothing. Her legs are splayed wide, cum slowly oozing out of her swollen, reddened pussy.
You step off the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor. Your own breathing is heavy, a sheen of sweat cooling on your skin. You rummage through the pile of discarded clothes, your fingers closing around the familiar weight of your phone. You pull it out, the screen lighting up with a soft glow.
You unlock the phone, swipe to the camera app, and flip it to video mode. You hold it up, framing the scene before you.
Ryujin's splayed and shuddering frame fills the screen. Her off-shoulder shirt is bunched around her neck, revealing her small, perky tits with their hardened, abused nipples.
Her skirt is a wrinkled mess around her waist. Her thighs are smeared with a mixture of sweat, her own creamy fluids, and your cum.
Her pussy is a wreck; swollen and gaping slightly, a thick rivulet of white cream trickling down her tiny asshole.
Her face is a degradation, tear tracks cutting through smeared makeup, hair plastered to her forehead, lips swollen from biting back screams, her eyes are glazed, barely blinking.
You zoom in, capturing the details. The slap marks on her cheeks, the bite bruise on her neck, the convulsive twitching of her inner thighs. She's not moving, just lying there.
"Look at that. Shin Ryujin. One of the most famous idols in Korea. And now? Now she's just a used, cumbucket piece of meat."
She flinches at your words. Her hand twitches, trying to move, but it falls back. She doesn't have the strength to cover herself, to hide.
You pan the camera down, lingering on her quivering thighs, her messy cunt. You squat down, getting a close-up of the cum leaking out of her, mixing with her own slick. "This is what happens when you play guard dog for the wrong people. You should have minded your own business."
You reach out with your free hand, two fingers pressing her pussy hole, pushing them inside just enough to scoop up a generous glob of your mixed cum. You bring it to her lips, smearing it across her mouth.
"Taste yourself," you order. "Taste what happens to good girls who wander into bad places."
Her lips quiver, but she doesn't have the strength to turn her head away. The cum smears over her lips, some trickling into her mouth. She gags, a dry, retching sound.
You stand up, holding the phone steady, capturing her pathetic state. You will need this insurance - insurance that she won't talk, won't report. Insurance that the proud Shin Ryujin will be forever chained to this moment.
You drop the phone onto the bed beside her and climb back onto the mattress. Your cock, still slick and half-hard, hangs heavy between your legs.
You fist your hand in her tangled, sweat-soaked hair, and yank her upper body upward into a rough, sitting position. Her head lolls, her neck barely able to support itself, her eyes glassy.
"Wake up, slut," you sneer, giving her hair another tug that makes her whimper. "You're not done yet. You're going to clean me up. I need to get back to work."
She blinks, trying to process your words through the fog of violation and drugs. Her mouth opens, a weak protest forming, but you don't give her the chance. You guide your semi-erect cock to her lips, pressing the cum-coated head against her mouth.
"Open," you command, your voice cold. "Suck. Make it clean. Every last drop."
She hesitates, her eyes welling up with more tears. But the threat in your gaze is apparent. Her lips part, trembling, and you push forward.
The head slips past her lips, and her warm, wet mouth envelopes your shaft. Her hands come up weakly, clutching your thighs for support, her nails digging into your skin as she tries not to gag.
"Good girl," you murmur, your hips beginning to move in slow, shallow thrusts. "Use that tongue. You're an idol, right? You must know how to please. Show me."
She gags a wet sound, but you don't stop. You fuck her mouth, savoring the sensation of her soft lips wrapped around your shaft, her tongue clumsily attempting to clean the taste of her own shame from your skin.
Your cock is hardening again, the heat of her mouth and the sight of her tear-streaked face beneath you working its magic.
And while she works, you reach for your phone and hold it up, the camera clicking rapidly, snapping picture after picture. Ryujin, on her knees, her lips stretched around your cock, her hands clutching your thighs, her eyes red and vacant. Perfect blackmail material.
"It's hard not to get a second wind with a mouth this pretty," you say, "But I've got two hours left on my shift. Damn shame."
You pull back, your cock slipping from her lips. She slumps sideways, falling back onto the bed, gasping for air, drool stringing from her mouth.
You turn away, reaching for the small drawer beside the bed. It slides open with a soft hiss, revealing a handful of small, white pills. You scoop them up and turn back to her.
"Time for a little nap, Ryujin," you say, your voice almost casual. "You've got a long night ahead."
You climb on top of her again, straddling her chest, one hand gripping her jaw, forcing her mouth open. She struggles weakly, her hands batting at your arms, but she's too far gone to put up any real fight. You shove the pills past her lips, pressing them to the back of her throat.
"Swallow," you order. She chokes, her eyes wide with panic, but you hold her jaw shut, rubbing her throat until she has no choice but to obey. The pills go down dry, scraping against her esophagus, making her gag again.
You slap her face one final time, a stinging blow that makes her head snap to the side. Her eyes flutter, the drugs already taking hold. Her limbs grow heavier, her breathing shallower. Within moments, her eyes roll back, and she goes limp, unconscious.
You climb off the bed, pulling on your trousers, your shirt, your tie. You dress quickly, efficiently, adjusting your collar in the dim light.
You glance back at her, a broken, motionless figure on the mattress. Cum still stains her thighs, her face is a mess, and she's completely out cold.
You grab your phone, pocketing it after a final glance at the incriminating photos. You know she won't be going anywhere anytime soon. And when she wakes up, she will learn harder what happens to pretty idols who wander into the wrong den.
Or makes you her bitch eventually... For more Itzy, visit the Idol Masterlist.
Word count: 7.5K | Tags: Smut, GangBang, BDSM, Oral, Anal, Strap-Ons, Squirting, Spanking, Rough, Mind Break.
Ryujin opens the door to justice in the shape of Chaeryeong, Lia, and Yuna. Helping to orchestrate Yeji's sentence, she accepts her own fate as painfully and gracefully as possible.
For full context, you can read Spoiled.
This fic takes place between Can't Help Myself and Rent-A-Boyfriend
"Do you really think he'll come here? I'm getting tired of waiting in the dark!" Karina whined on the phone.
"If I'm right about him, he will. Unless he's dead asleep or something, but he replied," Ryujin stated, lying on her couch with Bama and Una, her younger cats, resting over her.
"This guy better be as worthy as you say or… I hear some steps running here."
As planned, Ryujin muted herself on the phone, listening attentively while the door opened.
"Ryu?" Hwang Seungdae, the server she now considered a friend, asked loudly enough that Karina's phone picked it up.
"That's a very rude greeting coming from a server," Karina replied to him, chuckling.
"Yeah, sorry. I was…"
'Lights on,' Ryujin thought, imagining his now familiar flustered face and writing a text while Karina talked.
RJ: I keep my promises. Treat her well and enjoy, dumbass!
"…I was not expecting her to tell you she had broken her leg or something. You may want to check that."
Silence. Ryujin scoffed at her phone when she saw the call had ended. "She'd better show me something after she gets home." She rolled her eyes, dropping her phone. "Do you think he'll enjoy Jimin unnie as much as I did the first time?" She smirked at Dallie, her older cat, feeling the judgment in his eyes.
The satisfaction of giving such a treat not to one, but two friends, didn't last. While she had more frequent visits lately from Yeji, Jimin and Sua, these were usually planned. Hearing her doorbell out of the blue felt threatening, even for her pets. Doubtful, she squinted at the peephole of her door before opening it.
"What are you three doing here?" Ryujin asked, signaling Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yuna to step into her apartment. They didn't say a word. Confused, Ryujin guided them to the living room for them to sit.
"What's the problem?" She inquired, noticing more clearly Jisu's regretful face, Chaeryeong's stern expression, and Yuna's curious eyes.
Lia eyed her members, one still trying to find her way with words, the other too shy to express her thoughts to Ryujin. "I'll just say it. We're worried and disappointed with you."
"Excuse me?" Ryujin scoffed with a frown.
Chaeryeong huffed in disbelief. "Oh, you know why," she grimaced in a tone she had never used with her elder.
"I really don't know what you're talking about." Ryujin laughed, even more confused.
"Mr. Hwang," Yuna said quietly, taking any hint of a smile off her friend's face. The whole room went quiet.
"See? You knew perfectly well," Chaeryeong replied with fire in her eyes.
"First, how did you find out?" Ryujin pondered, defeated, resting her elbows on her knees and running her hands through her hair.
"Yeji unnie told me everything after the baseball game. All she did, and all you did," Chaeryeong explained, almost growling. "Also, everything you two did to her. She would not stop talking about how good it felt to pass out like that," she rolled her eyes.
"Why did you do it?" Yuna wondered, silencing the apartment.
Ryujin felt the maknae's big eyes bring back all the emotions she felt that day. The instant regret from the moment he walked into Yeji's apartment, the remorse of not stopping her in every opportunity she had, the guilt invading her whole body the moment she pushed into him, and the shame of losing control of herself by a mere kiss and a few words from Yeji. Then, the desperation when she ran after Seungdae, and his stupid, unbelievable comprehension right after. Yes, he was furious that day, but he still heard her and understood her shitty decisions, showing no apparent resentment towards her. The added fact that he turned out to be IU's boyfriend amplified the sentiment just enough for a tear to shed from her left eye.
"I… I'm working on it," Ryujin said weakly, glancing at their faces, demanding more of her. "You know how I feel about Yeji unnie. You know better than me that I can't say no to her. Fuck, even Seungdae oppa noticed that right away," she acknowledged, shaking her head.
"Seungdae oppa?" Chaeryeong scoffed right away, voicing the members' thoughts with her arms crossed. "Are you two close now?"
Ryujin's mouth and eyes shut in thin lines. "He may have spent a night here not long ago," she admitted, avoiding their faces.
"Did you fuck Mr. Hwang?" Yuna almost yelled. "I mean, did he fucked you?" She corrected herself, failing to get past the awkward phrasing.
"Hell no." Ryujin grimaced in half a second. "After… I fucked him that day," she said regretfully, "we talked. A lot. He asked me to stay in touch, so I invited him over to drink some wine, and he fell asleep after we emptied a couple of bottles of wine."
"So he's fine with you after what you did?" Lia pondered, trying to comprehend their dynamic.
"We avoid the subject. But yes."
"Still, that doesn't change what you did," Chaeryeong stated after a few seconds of silence, bringing nods from the other members, including Ryujin. "If you wanted him to fuck you as punishment, you would have done it the night he stayed here. What do you propose?"
"And how can we even make Yeji unnie pay for that as well?" Lia chuckled, letting her back fall on the couch.
By Friday, all the pieces fell into place. Lia had booked Seungdae for the following weekend and asked him to pick her up after their practice so he could see them all. Ryujin had ordered a special package, ensuring it would arrive at least a full day before her self-imposed sentence. Chaeryeong and Yuna spoke directly with Yeji, playing with the idea of making Ryujin the center of attention during their next group time in the dungeon.
"But she's a pleaser. She'll want to please us as well," the leader murmured.
"What if we tie you up for her?" Yuna grinned, biting her lower lip.
"She could eat your cunt while we take care of Ryujin unnie." Chaeryeong nodded, bringing a smile to Yeji's face.
As discussed, Ryujin agreed to the proposal. "I'll be in your hands, then. Except for you, unnie. You will be in mine," she winked at her and smirked at the rest of the group, sealing her own fate as well as Yeji's.
Thursday arrived. Secretly, Lia and Yuna approached Ryujin, offering options taken directly from the maknae's drawer.
"Come on, it will help you even if you squeeze a tiny bit of it up your butt," Lia insisted, showing her the lube bottle labeled with an'S8' and the small silicone douche kit in the bag.
"That would not be fair. And Chaeryeong knows that trick. She'd find out right away." Ryujin replied.
"I've got other options she doesn't know about. Ideal for your muscles to relax," Yuna said playfully.
"No, darling. I appreciate it, but I need to do this the right way," Ryujin stated, holding their hands. "I take it you two will go easy on me?"
"You know we will," Lia smiled gently with a nod before turning to see Yuna.
"I'll try, I swear, but you know I can't control myself after a certain point," the maknae pouted.
"Then forget about it and do whatever you want with me," Ryujin smirked warmly, pulling the tall girl in for a hug.
Practice went as usual, except that Lia had taken her pet, Bella, along, and that Yeji and Chaeryeong left first to prepare the dungeon. The rest of the group spared some time, enough for them to make a quick stop at Ryujin's to collect the package before catching up with them in Yeji's apartment.
"She's ready," Chaeryeong welcomed them with a wide grin on her face, sitting on one of the couches and playing with Yeji's panties while Lia let Bella run towards Yeji's pets to play.
Curious, Ryujin led the way to the dungeon. "Well, hello, unnie," she smirked at the sight of Yeji, already naked, tied to the X-cross, smiling with a blush on her cheeks.
Ryujin got lost in her slim figure, her short hair, and the willingness in her face. Knowing she would have no control over her near future, she locked eyes with her and kissed her fondly.
The tenderness of the kiss took Yeji aback, but she matched the warmth, closing her eyes and enjoying Ryujin's hands running from her neck down to her waist as their tongues danced together. By the time she reopened her eyes, the members were already stripping Ryujin of her clothes, forcing them to break their kiss to remove her t-shirt. Fully naked, they locked eyes and kissed again, this time more passionately.
While her friends got rid of their clothes and murmured something about Yuna's ass, Ryujin focused on Yeji, pulling her as close to her as she could, hand going down to her bush, carefully trimmed just like she liked it, then further down to her already wet folds.
"I'm not sure who was more eager for this," she chuckled with her, shoving her ring and middle fingers inside the leader's pussy, taking her moan directly in her lips. Knowing every button in Yeji's body, Ryujin knelt, kissing her body until her face was right in front of her friend's cunt, inhaling her musk, feeling her moisture and heat.
'You're so damn weak,' she thought to herself, feeling her scent fill her lungs and fuel her lust in an instant before reaching for those drenched petals and her clit, fingering her with all her skills to make her surrender to pleasure. In a minute, Ryujin got Yeji to the edge of her orgasm, and determined to give her that at least, she did her best to make her explode.
Unfortunately for both, Chaeryeong pulled Ryujin away at the same time Lia blindfolded Yeji, and Yuna placed a bullet vibrator in the lowest setting right on the leader's clit, locking it in place with microfoam tape.
"What? No! Please, please, please!" Yeji begged, slowly losing the trembling of her hips. "Why? Please! Chaeryeongah! Let her finish, please! Juliayah! I've been good!"
"Sorry, unnie," Yuna whispered in her ear. "Hold on to that orgasm from now on," she said sweetly, kissing Yeji's cheek and pinching her nipples.
"Why? She wanted me to cum! This was for her!" The short-haired woman whined, trying to free her wrists from her shackles.
Chaeryeong scoffed, appreciating the nod from Ryujin. "Before anything, love, know that we love you two. And please remember that for the next week."
"Next week?" Yeji let out in panic.
"Spoilers," Lia yelled from the back.
"Remember what you two did to Mr. Hwang?" Chaeryeong asked the leader, mouthing 'Seungdae oppa' to Ryujin. "Well, we could not really think of a way to make you pay other than this," she chuckled, tickling Yeji's bush with her nails.
"D-did he ask you to do this?" Yeji asked, half mad, half confused.
Ryujin shook her head. "It was all—"
"My idea!" Yuna interrupted, drawing everyone's attention with the thunderous sound of a whiplash, winking at Ryujin. "He didn't say anything, but we could not let that slide."
"You are in big trouble," Yeji huffed, shaking her head, but giving up on getting free.
"I'm looking forward to that!" The maknae bit her lip, imagining her future and showing her skills with the single-tailed whip, lashing one of Yeji's nipples.
That shut the leader's mouth completely.
"Are you crazy?" Lia asked her silently, receiving a proud and playful nod from Yuna before she reminded her of the thick silicone butt plug she carried up her ass since their practice, pulling it out just enough to show its girth, then shoved it back inside her rectum.
"Unnie?" Chaeryeong called Ryujin, patting on the custom tantra chair, taking her out of the trance caused by maknae's anal skills.
She nodded, walking towards it, accepting her friend's help to lie on the piece of furniture just like Seungdae did that time; face up, ass on the highest point of the chair with her feet resting on the handles, and shoulders resting on the padded tubes, stopping her whole body from slipping down.
"You still have your safe words, remember," Chaeryeong whispered into Ryujin's ear. After her quiet yes, she called her elder to take over.
"Do you really want me to sit on your face?" Lia smirked, gazing down at her friend.
"I'd be offended if you didn't," Ryujin chuckled, making her smile shyly before she straddled over her face. Happily, she welcomed her fat pussy lips, using her hands to help her maintain her level. Understanding her place in the dungeon, Ryujin relaxed her body and let the members use her, focusing on enjoying what she could, and, right there, that was Jisu's nectar.
While she savored her friend's addictive juices, Lia and Chaeryeong moved Ryujin's legs, gently holding her pelvis to keep her in the air. In a coordinated attack, both women latched onto her groin.
Jisu wasted no time, mirroring the way Ryujin ate her cunt, remembering each other's weak spots, focusing on the journey rather than looking for an orgasm. Chaeryeong, however, had full access to Ryujin's puckerhole. Aiming to confuse her elder's mind, she licked her butthole playfully, contrasting with Lia's slow licks and kisses.
"You should see how cute Ryujin unnie's feet wrinkle thanks to them!" Yuna whispered in Yeji's ear. She was next to her, letting her bare skin rub against the leader. Yuna rubbed her own clit with her left hand, at times playing with her piercing while she gently brushed Yeji's wet slit, eyes focused on her friends. "When was the last time you licked Ryujin unnie's asshole?"
"I… I don't know," Yeji scoffed, moving her hips in an attempt to feel more of the maknae's fingers.
"Well, Chaeryeong unnie is having a feast, and I am next," Yuna declared, refraining from touching her friend's pussy to a minimum while she described in detail the show she was witnessing.
Despite Ryujin's strong focus, she quickly gave up on preserving her sanity. She got lost on the tickling of Chaeryeong's tongue going in and out of her rectum, then tracing the circumference of her small gape, followed by Lia's sloppy kisses across her slit, adding random licks through her folds; the combined motions plus her own willingness to forget about any control, caused Ryujin's arms to fail for a moment, resulting in Jusu's butt almost smashing her face.
Sharing a complicit look, Lia and Chaeryeong upped their game. The former let her crotch rest firmly on Ryujin's face, grinding hard on it, suffocating her friend, who didn't seem to mind and dedicated her lips and tongue to devour Jisu's cunt. The latter fucked Ryujin's ass with her tongue, spreading her buttcheeks to reach as deep as she could, keeping her fingers close to her friend's plump pussy lips to massage them.
Right when Ryujin's hips began to shake, both women left her alone, allowing one desperate moan to fill the room, followed by the loud thud of her hips falling on the tantra chair. A bit disoriented by the lack of air, she gasped at the sudden insertion of Lia's fingers up her ass. Three slim fingers, taking full advantage of Chaeryeong's saliva until Ryujin was able to focus on Lia's kind smile.
Lia pretended to think for a moment, wiggling her digits inside Ryujin's butthole before pushing them upwards so her walls moved visibly through her pussy. She leaned forward to give her drenched petals a profound lick and a kiss on Ryujin's clit before pulling out her fingers. She knelt next to Ryujin's face. "You'll get more in just a minute," she giggled quietly, sharing a kiss filled with her own juices.
Chaeryeong wiped Ryujin's ass dry, making eye contact with her as the last bit of confirmation, which came with a subtle nod and lips pursed in a thin line. She ogled her friend's drenched cunt and winking puckered hole, then quickly glanced at the other members, both encouraging her, one with a wide grin and excited nod, the other with a doubtful shrug, hand pointing to Ryujin's expectant face.
Exactly as requested, Chaeryeong was already wearing a strap-on, and after an audible sigh, she thrust forward slowly, shoving the same six-inch dildo from that day with Seungdae.
"Fuck!" Ryujin grunted, feeling her ass burn slightly at every inch of silicone entering her rectum. Her grunt, however, was not from pain, but lack thereof. She was hoping to replicate the same feeling she regretted causing on Seungdae; however, her own experience with the members, particularly Yeji and Yuna, had made the six-inch dildo entering her butthole bearable, even dry.
"You okay?" Lia whispered, caressing Ryujin's hair while she nodded, showing her frustration. Reluctantly, they leered at Chaeryeong, nodding one last time, prompting her to hold Ryujin's thighs, one on each arm, and ram her ass, smirking at the instant reaction from her elder.
The burning increased due to the lack of lubricant and the friction, causing Ryujin to grip Lia's hand as she endured the punishment of her own making; one that soon disappeared thanks to her body's memory, adapting quickly to the rough fucking. "This won't do," she murmured, looking desperately at Jisu.
Understanding what she needed, Lia kissed her friend gently until she felt her moans coming out. No words, just a complicit stare, and she stood up, ensuring Yuna would have a good view to describe everything to Yeji.
With Ryujin's moans slowly filling the room, Jisu playfully slapped Ryujin's pussy before spreading her folds and shoving two fingers into her cunt, triggering her first whimper, one that she could not contain despite her best efforts.
Ryujin let herself go, staring at Yuna and Yeji while her moans soared freely, prompting Yuna to finger herself, mirroring Lia's tempo, describing the scene to Yeji, who could only bite her own lip as her arousal grew.
'Not yet, unnie,' Ryujin thought, feeling Jisu's fingers hit her G-spot, whilst her free hand slid towards her clit.
This time, neither stopped. They kept fucking her and rubbing her sensitive bean until Ryujin came, releasing a weak stream of squirt on herself as her legs trembled in Chaeryeong's arms, fingers and toes stretching and contracting erratically until Ryujin regained a bit of self-control.
No resting time for her.
Lia quickly changed places with Yuna, shoving her drenched fingers into Yeji's mouth, appeasing her desperation with the taste of Ryujin's juices.
Meanwhile, the younger members hoisted Ryujin from the tantra chair, only to lock her to a cushioned pillory, assembled from the bed's frame, with a chain running through the roof. Chaeryeong spanked Ryujin's ass before catching up with Lia to tease Yeji's weak spots. Yuna, however, sucked the spherical end of the hook attached to the chain, coating it with her saliva before shoving it up her beloved unnie's ass, forcing her to keep her hips up despite her lack of strength in her legs.
"Shin Yuna!" Ryujin whined, rubbing her knees together with her ankles pointing outward.
"Too much?" Yuna whispered with genuine concern, holding her face lovingly, making Ryujin chuckle.
"No," she panted. "What did I tell you?"
"To do whatever I want with you?" The maknae pouted, doubtful, staring into her eyes.
"Make me regret telling you that," Ryujin replied with a wicked grin, lips trembling the same way they did before they kissed.
"I'll pretend to be sorry," Yuna smiled widely after their tender kiss, jumping off the bed and spanking Ryujin's buttocks so hard her own hand burned. She stopped to admire her playground, biting her lips as the imprint of her palm came to life.
Yes, Yuna had fucked Ryujin hard in private, with and without a strap on, but Ryujin always had clear limits with her, inverting the roles whenever the line was crossed. Not knowing when the opportunity would present again, if that were even a possibility, Yuna meditated on her next move, loving the way her beloved friend wiggled her ass impatiently, showing her butthole stretching vertically thanks to the metal hook.
The maknae kissed Ryujin's behind right before she lashed her ass repeatedly with a soft leather whip with nine braided tails, taking a couple of seconds between her strikes to appreciate Ryujin's whimpers and the way her legs twisted at the sudden sting. Always attentive to the established safe words and signs, Yuna continued, ensuring the tips landed on her buttcheeks, sometimes aiming at her cunt.
Ryujin withstood it all, whimpering, hissing, and cursing louder at every impact, unaware if every hit burned more because of Yuna's increasing force or because of how sensitive her skin got. While her legs had stopped shaking because of her orgasm, making the hook in her ass slightly more comfortable, her hips shuddered erratically after every strike, bringing a mixture of shame and satisfaction to her mind.
"I am actually impressed," Chaeryeong whispered from the X-cross.
"I don't think I've ever seen an ass so red," Lia chuckled.
"At least let me see," Yeji whined before yelping at the precise lashing of her pussy. "SHIN YUNA!" Yeji yelled after a muted cry, receiving another hit, so sudden and loud it startled the other members.
"Would you prefer me to ignore you?" The maknae scoffed, taking a wooden paddle covered in thick leather to spank Yeji's slit with it.
The leader grimaced at the pain, but swallowed her words and spread her legs, offering her cunt to her without saying anything.
"That's what I thought." Yuna spanked her pussy again, giggling before licking the line of juices that stuck to the paddle. She turned back towards Ryuijn, making her jump with a gentle touch on her buttcheek.
Ryujin felt Yuna's hands run through her hips before they pressed her fingers twice on her flesh; the same gesture she used on the maknae to ask without words if it was okay to continue when the roles were reversed. Surprising herself and Yuna, Ryujin nodded quickly, arching her back to raise her ass, unleashing a series of hard spanks with the paddle that slowly approached her pussy until one hit landed flat on her vulva.
Yuna left the paddle firmly pressed on Ryujin's cunt, loving the way she trembled while she approached her locked head in the pillory. "Too much?" She pondered, slowly removing the object, watching Ryujin hesitate to shake her head. One more slap, just as precise. "It's really going to hurt later," she warned her, giving her two seconds before another strike.
Her fist clenched tightly. "I've given you worse, and you're fine," Ryujin sneered, holding a yelp after an even harder spank.
Yuna took a moment to see the paddle, drenched in her elder's nectar. Even if her own sadistic side wanted to continue, considering that the next part of her punishment could be too much, she stopped. "Unnie, next time we're alone, can I use the strap on you after you use it on me?" Yuna asked, whispering in Ryujin's ear.
"You really want to fuck me hard, don't you?" She giggled quietly, feeling Yuna's hands run through her bare torso and her pussy, making her aware of how wet her folds were. "Make me cum, and you can fuck me now," Ryujin murmured, trying to see Yuna's eyes.
A quick peck on the top of her head, and the maknae jumped to kneel behind Ryujin's bright red ass. Carefully, Yuna helped her elder raise her hips and removed the metal hook, sucking the ball that was inside Ryujin's butt before digging her nails to spread her asscheeks. Yuna scanned her dripping cunt while pink lines formed where her nails passed. She leaned to catch the strands of nectar before they fell to the floor. Gently, Yuna licked Ryujin's slit, and then devoured her puckered hole, reaching for her friend's nipples.
While Ryujin had never doubted Yuna's hunger or skills, she always found it amusing how every part of the maknae's body was made for sex. From head to toe, Yuna had worked on her whole existence to please others, and, of course, herself. Her mouth, however, excelled in every aspect. Dick, cunt, or ass, no matter what she had in front of her, Yuna would eat it, finding the person's weak points and pushing them to make them explode whenever she wanted. The fact that Ryujin was moaning loudly, relaxing her anal walls unconsciously but had not cum yet, only meant Yuna was enjoying her meal.
"Unnie, when was the last time Yuna ate your butt?" Chaeryeong asked Yeji, fingers caressing the leader's asshole.
"T-two months?" she replied, arching her back in an attempt to allow access to her friend's curious fingers.
"Really?" Lia scoffed. "She ate mine yesterday. Although definitely not like she's eating Ryujin's," she scoffed, smiling at her pale friend.
"Would you like it?" Chaeryeong smiled, removing her finger from Yeji's rectum and licking it clean. Jisu, perplexed, didn't say anything, but accepted her hand. "We'll be right back."
"What? Don't leave me like this…"
While Yeji continued whining, Chaeryeong took Lia to the bed and placed a pillow directly under Ryujin's face.
Jisu sighed but followed along, fixing the pillow until her lips reached Ryujin's needy mouth, pulling her for a kiss as she raised her legs so Chaeryeong could dive into her groin. When she did, Lia released a moan into Ryujin's lips.
Yeji gave up, but her frustration and lust kept growing. Unable to see anything, she heard it all. Yuna's heavy breathing and occasional grunting while her skillful tongue ventured inside Ryujin's delicious asshole; Ryujin's agitated moans, muffled in Lia's lips while their lips smacked with each other. She noticed Jisu's whimpers change in intensity at the same time her ears caught the sloshing, surely coming from Chaeryeong, fingering Lia's pussy.
Yuna noticed Ryujin's response to Lia's fierce kiss, and she acted accordingly. Taking a last tour through her friend's wrinkled hole, she took a moment to admire her creation and imagine how damaged Ryujin's behind would look the following day.
The maknae fixed Ryujin's position, arching her back just a little more to have better access to her fat cunt. She didn't rush. The first deep lick at Ryujin's petals made her hips shudder, bringing audible joy to Yuna, who, despite having an immense thirst for her friend, savoured every crease of her folds. At the same time, she slowly fingered Ryujin's ass, expertly avoiding any damage with her nails despite how quickly and deeply her digits went inside of her friend.
Ryujin melted, feeling Lia's fingers intertwine with her own while their lips demanded more of each other, focusing all her conscious strength on her hips and legs. Not only was Yuna building a powerful orgasm for Ryujin, but she was edging her until her mind clouded in pleasure so intensely she barely registered Jisu's reaction when Chaeryeong's tongue and fingers pushed her to her climax.
What Ryujin noticed was the maknae's sudden stop.
Yuna sucked her fingers, coated in Ryujin's bitter flavor, leaving them as clean as she could before swiftly shoving them back into her elder's pussy. Before Ryujin could say anything, Yuna locked her clit in her lips and fingered Ryujin so precisely that her legs gave up.
To Chaeryeong's surprise, Yuna held Ryujin's weight with her left arm, allowing the motions of her mouth and digits to continue, gifting Ryujin an orgasm so good that her cunt sprayed Yuna's face over and over again.
Chaeryeong witnessed the bliss on Ryujin's face until her friend's moans returned, in a tone so sweet and dreamlike that she found it utterly adorable.
"Are you ready for the last part?" Lia asked, holding Ryujin's hair away from their faces to see her whiskers showing. Ryujin took a moment to reply, during which Yuna walked to Yeji, aggressively taking her face to kiss her, feeding her some of Ryujin's nectar, taking the leader's lust through the roof.
"I d-didn't get spa-spanked and lashed that h-hard… For you three to s-stop now," Ryujin grinned, trying her best to level herself to avoid choking on the pillory.
Having heard that, Chaeryeong took the newly arrived surprise from a drawer and went to Yuna, slapping her ass and nodding at her. While the maknae went with Ryujin to prepare her, wiping her pussy and butt dry, not caring for her hypersensitivity of the moment, Chaeryeong stood face to face with Yeji, noticing the puddle of juices her cunt had formed after dripping untouched for so long.
"Now you want me to fuck you?" Yeji huffed, lips showing her anger, cheeks flushed in arousal.
Chaeryeong chuckled, adjusting the straps around Yeji's waist. "We said Ryujin unnie would be the center of attention, don't you remember?" the pale woman replied, confusing the leader after adding a second layer to her groin.
"And you haven't played with her yet," Lia said with a shy smile, removing the blindfold from Yeji's eyes, winking at her as she stepped away so she could see Ryujin's red ass, held in place by Yuna's hands.
Shocked by the visuals, particularly the sticker that kept her friend's pussy shut, Yeji was out of words for a moment, letting the members release her from the shackles of the X-cross. Then, she glanced down at her own body, noticing the eight-inch-long dildo attached to the strap-on Chaeryeong had put on her. "You're kidding," Yeji growled, feeling the chastity belt under the strap.
"Sorry, love. You didn't leave us any other way to punish you," Jisu smiled warmly at her.
"Come on, unnie!" Yuna grinned, slapping Ryujin's butt, prompting her hips to tremble. "You know how good she'll feel."
Yeji scoffed with fire in her eyes. "Lube her up," she ordered, breathing loudly.
"No debt goes unpaid," Chaeryeong whispered in the leader's ear. "You should know that better than most."
"You'll fuck her dry. I already loosened her a bit," Yuna chuckled, easily shoving three fingers in Ryujin's ass, pulling her hips upwards to keep her groin fully displayed.
"You'll pay for this, Shin Yuna," Yeji declared, shaking her head and lining up the dildo with Ryujin's butthole.
"Oh, you can do anything you want to me to close this cycle of debts," the tall girl grinned, taking her fingers out of Ryujin and savoring them as the leader pressed the dildo's tip against her friend's small gape. "I'll be on my best behaviour for you until next week," Yuna whispered mischievously, slapping Yeji's ass so hard she lost her balance, causing, perhaps, the closest equivalent to what Ryujin made Seungdae go through.
Yeji had understood the true meaning of Yuna's words. The mere thought of 'one week in chastity' proved enough to mute her senses for a second, which served to make her fall forward with the maknae's spank, shoving half of the fake phallus into Ryujin's rectum.
The whole dungeon went quiet until Ryujin released her sharp grunt five seconds later. Her hips trembled involuntarily; her rim burned like hell. Even if the dildo was just halfway in, the girth was something she was not used to, much less without a slow increase in diameter, much less without lubricant. Despite that, the sensitivity from her previous orgasm tainted the pain with enough pleasure for her to find a sick enjoyment in her punishment.
To everyone's surprise, Ryujin pushed herself up, putting so much effort into her core that she managed to lift Yeji, taking another dry inch of the toy while Yeji helped her stand. "Do it," Ryujin huffed, prompting Yeji to lean forward, careful not to add any more weight onto her, signaling the worried members to stop.
"You really want it?" Yeji whispered, tugging Ryujin's hair as she leaned into her ear.
"Y-yes," she replied honestly, drowned in Yeji's lust, attentive to Yeji's tone, grip, and hand hugging her chest.
"This whole thing was your idea, wasn't it?"
"Yes," she admitted, failing to raise her hips a bit more.
Yeji giggled as quietly as she could. "Have I tell you I love you?" She purred, stretching to kiss Ryujin's cheek and bite her earlobe, pushing another inch into her.
The guttural gasp took Ryujin's chuckle out of her lips. "T-tell me that when you're n-not drunk in lust, and I may b-believe it."
"You better," Yeji murmured, biting her ear, pulling slightly out as she stood up, spreading Ryujin's buttcheeks. She shook her head, sticking her tongue out while she stared at her partner's scratched rimhole tightly hugging the toy's girth.
"Fuck her good, and we'll free you after Lia comes back," Chaeryeong giggled, giving the blonde woman a peck on the cheek, causing her to turn to see Jisu nodding with the keys.
The following thrust went in so fast, hard, and deep that Ryujin released a gasp so sharp it took away all her breath, leaving her mute while her ass took all eight inches inside her. As expected, Yeji released her frustration on her, ramming her butt, making their flesh clap, fucking Ryujin's consciousness out of her.
The scene impressed the other members, especially Chaeryeong, who was too stunned to speak. Lia, however, noticed Yeji's toes gripping the slippery floor and saw a potential accident. With Yuna's help, she unmounted the pillory, raising the piece of furniture that kept Ryujin in place so quickly that Yeji pushed her into the bed, using her friends' assistance to continue fucking her relentlessly until both were lying on their right side.
"We lost them," Jisu declared.
"You think she'll fuck me like that on Monday?" Yuna smirked excitedly, watching Yeji hold Ryujin's leg upward, giving them and the cameras in the room a clear view of the act.
"Will Ryujin unnie be okay?" Chaeryeong asked.
"Tonight, yeah. Tomorrow…" Lia shook her head with a subtle smile.
Ryujin had already gone well past her pain. The way Yeji rammed her ass, hugging her so tightly with her free arm, hitting her womb from the right angle, and listening to her heavy breathing hit all the right buttons for her consciousness to drift away slowly.
What was left was, for the other members, an impressively submissive side of Ryujin they had never seen. Her moans, whimpers, and grunts came so freely they varied from deep to sharp depending on the leader's will. Her hips rocked back and forth, desperately trying to take the whole dildo into her guts as fast and hard as possible. And her face reflected the bliss that overflowed her system until the pleasure in her body made her shiver.
Yeji had managed to fuck an orgasm out of Ryujin from blowing her ass, just like Ryujin had blown hers many times before; a personal goal of hers. However, right before she exploded, she felt her partner's body freeze and contract for a second, followed by a river of fluids running through their legs, finally adding that missing lubricant to the dildo.
"Wha…" Ryujin mouthed in a gasp, still too far gone in the gates of her stolen climax to understand what Yuna said as she held the sticker freshly ripped from her pussy. She glimpsed the strap-on and stared at the maknae's big eyes and lips moving. Ryujin nodded, accepting the fate she had forged for herself.
For a moment, she was unaware of where her body was and what her limbs were doing; she only saw a pale hand pushing her to her left, followed by the warmth of Yeji's skin in her back, and a sudden stretch, splitting her core in half as Yuna approached her face.
A muted whimper exited her lips while her insides reshaped, bringing back her lost orgasm in full by the time Yuna's lips met Ryujin's.
Drowning in her own pleasure, Ryujin let herself lie flat over Yeji, who held her waist firmly in place. Then, Yuna's lips drifted to the left of her neck the same way Yeji did, attacking Ryujin from both sides while they both fucked her without giving her rest, prolonging her climax so much she did not comprehend when the new orgasm began.
"Hm?" Yuna continued pounding Ryujin's cunt, turning at the sensation of someone pulling her plug out of her butthole, finding Chaeryeong, already equipped with her own strap-on, one that matched the girth of her toy. "You read my mind," she grinned, changing her angle to present her gaping hole to her friend.
"The usual?" Chaeryeong asked, pulling her red hair from the roots, shoving the toy inside of her, instantly ramming her ass.
Lia contemplated the mayhem in front of her: Yeji, holding the whole act on top of her, showing her desperation through her panted grunts, still trying to rock her hips; Ryujin, toes spread wide, holes probably as sensitive as an open nerve, too far gone to know how hard she was pulling the maknae's nipples just to continue kissing her; Yuna, rejoicing in the bits of pain while she made out with her beloved friend, swirling their tongues inside each other's mouths while she kept fucking Ryujin so hard the wet stain in the sheets grew by the second; and Chaeryeong, syncing her thrust with Yuna's to give her that extra push against Ryujin's insides, bringing a whisper of a grunt out of her elder, giggling as she kept the whole structure from falling.
"Can't be helped…" Jisu told herself with a smirk, trying to focus on her upcoming free days, venturing onto the bed to pull Yeji's head just enough to meet her eyes, knowing the effect she had on the leader.
Her warm smile disarmed Yeji's furious glare, mumbling in desperation before her right hand reached for Lia's pussy, shoving two fingers inside of her. Jisu yelped and laughed, leaning closer. They ogled each other's lips, and Lia kissed her, turning into the vessel of Yeji's lust, impressed by how good her fingers felt inside her slick walls.
Chaeryeong's position allowed her to see the end of it. Lia had exploded in Yeji's hand, taking her face to calm her down through soft, tender kisses as she swayed her fat pussy on the leader's palm. Yuna had cummed from having her own asshole destroyed while she drilled Ryujin's cunt, resulting in a powerful squirt and thrusts so hard that Ryujin's legs shut around the maknae's torso.
Slowly, and not caring for the torturous waves of pleasure it represented, she pulled Yuna's hair again after untangling Ryujin's legs from her. "Aftercare," she whispered, getting a sweet hum from Yuna, then removing the dildo from her butt, taking the liberty of shoving four fingers inside of her, moving them freely. "You're truly something else," Chaeryeong scoffed, shutting her gape with the same plug Yuna had arrived with.
"I worked hard for it." The maknae blinked flirtily before withdrawing her own strap from Ryujin's pussy just as slowly as she pulled her friend's stiffened fingers from her nipples, stretching them until they slipped out of Ryujin's digits. Yuna bit her lips, admiring her elder's drenched folds pulsating and gaping while her rim still hugged the large dildo inside of it. Right when she leaned in to eat that cunt, Chaeryeong yanked her hair to stop her.
"Seriously?" She scoffed with a wide smile.
"It's not like she'll be mad about it," the maknae pouted as they took off their straps.
"Yeji. She needs to breathe, too," Chaeryeong replied.
Right there, Ryujin had no clear thoughts. The only thing she was fairly aware of was that her pussy was empty. The hands that held her made her shudder, bringing strong waves of electricity that expanded throughout her whole body, taking away any possible consciousness she could have regained. Soon, her butthole was also empty, gaping as she rested in a cold area of the mattress.
"Drip…"
"Let me. My treat," Ryujin heard Lia say before Yuna giggled.
"Are you dripping too much?" The maknae asked softly, caressing her hair and cupping her cheek, enough for another spasm to run through her body.
Ryujin nodded weakly, eyes barely focusing on Yuna's before a high-pitched cry came out of her lungs and her legs shut tightly around Lia's head. She tried to let her go, but she had no strength left in her.
"It's okay." Yuna grabbed her by the chin. "We'll kiss you until you can talk again."
With Lia and Yuna taking care of Ryujin, Chaeryeong made eye contact with Yeji. "Still got fuel in you?"
"What do you think?" Yeji scoffed, tilting her head.
"I haven't cum yet," Chaeryeong smirked, lying on the tantra chair and spreading her legs.
Ryujin was the first one to fall asleep, unaware of what the other members did to exhaust Yeji's energy until she also dozed off in Lia's arms. Yuna and Chaeryeong, however, took care of Yeji's and Lia's pets, even taking the chance to take a proper shower together before sleeping on the leader's bed.
A soft grunt woke up Yeji, making her conscious enough to feel the chastity belt she still had. The same grunt again, and she recognized Ryujin trying to move, prompting her to roll towards her, careful not to wake Lia up.
"That bad?" She whispered.
Ryujin sighed in defeat and nodded. "Did it ever hurt this bad for you?" She asked softly.
Yeji could not help but smile, wiggling her way to hug her. "Doubt it. They always lubed me up pretty well," she explained quietly. "Do you feel better at least?" She pondered, tapping on Ryujin's heart.
"I think so. I'm sure this hurts way more than what we made him go through."
"He didn't cum as hard as you," Yeji grinned, reaching for her cheek to give her a peck. "Or as long." Another peck. "Or as many times."
"You were not even conscious by then." Ryujin rolled her eyes before staring at Yeji's face, melting at her gentle smile. "How did you know?"
Yeji grinned widely and got even closer to kiss her. "Jisu would never think of anything like this. Chaery may start the fire, but she would have stopped at the spanking. Yuna would never think of hurting you unless you tell her first." Another tender kiss. "Unless Mr. Hwang and his pretty, veiny cock are behind this, it's only you."
"Are you mad at me?"
"Hmmm…" Yeji pursed her lips, playfully cuddling with Ryujin. "Just a bit. You got me all worked up, and you won't finish the job until Monday," she murmured, running her slim fingers through her partner's hair.
"You haven't asked if I'm free after practice," Ryujin purred with a smirk, receiving a confident scoff from Yeji as a response. "Will you take it out on me?" she pondered, fear showing through her voice.
Yeji huffed, shaking her head. "Do you really think I could?" she asked, offended, in her usual volume, quickly pursing her lips, afraid she might have woken Lia up. "I could never!" she murmured. "Plus, Yuna is already expecting me to go rough with her. I'll pretend to be mad at them until they take this off of me," she added, yawning and snuggling her face on Ryujin's neck, kissing it tenderly.
"Thank you for understanding," she exhaled, closing her eyes.
"It's only because I love you," Yeji whispered sweetly in her ear before pretending to be asleep.
Chills ran through Ryujin's body. She took a moment to digest her words, repeating them in her mind as she felt her breath on her neck. "What?" She uttered, half-sitting quickly in an attempt to see as much of Yeji as she could.
"You want to hear it so badly your ass doesn't hurt anymore?" Yeji smiled kindly, then opened her eyes and stared directly into Ryujin's. "I love you."
"I-I told you not to say it if you were lusting…"
"I am not," she replied sweetly and calmly. "Come, I'm sure it hurts to sit like that," Yeji helped her lie down on the mattress, taking her place in Ryujin's neck. "I just wanted you to know." She kissed her cheek and hugged her tightly. "You don't have to say it back if you're not ready."
Astonished and feeling her heart pounding loudly with Yeji's hand right over it, Ryujin tried to say it back, but the words couldn't come out. Flustered, she could not help but smile. "W-want to spend the weekend together?" She managed to mumble so quickly and quietly that she doubted if she actually did.
"Mhmm. That'd be perfect." Yeji gave her another peck on the cheek, then pulled her head for one last kiss on her lips. "Try to sleep. You still have to dance tomorrow," she giggled quietly.
Author's notes: I know some of you are expecting Seungdae to have his turn, but if that's going to happen, I don't want any guilt to be involved in the game.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this little girlbang against Ryujin.
Little extra: the idea was born after watching this clip, lol.
The immigration officer's tone is not too enthusiastic. They probably act similarly with everyone — long shift and everything. You don't take it too personally.
Incheon International Airport is rather bustling and loud, as to be expected for airports on a Sunday during winter. There are announcements echoing all over the airport for last calls and lost belongings. Through the people, you make way for yourself with a roller suitcase to the metro station and take a ride into the heart of Seoul.
The importance of this stint is as deathly crucial to you as it is to your university back home — a four-month compulsory graduation internship, and a gesture that signifies the bond between JYPE and your institution. You're not so sure regarding the number of years they've been on the ends of the connection, but surely, you're not letting it crash into rubble with your performances.
The ride into Seoul continues. There's a rolling of wheels running against the rails from under you. In the cabin, you watch the afternoon clouds and the snow-covered buildings run past you in a blur. Your compartment is playing a comfy lo-fi tune you don't recognize. Of course, you don't expect them to play K-pop all the time, but something you can tap your fingers to would be nice. They would make you feel more familiar with this place.
You reach your desired station eventually, and you drag your roller suitcase for a few hundred meters out of the station to the employees' dorm. Your body shivers in the freezing cold air of the city at three post meridiem. It's quite grueling, but you manage to withstand the temperature until your destination is right in front of you.
Your room is on the modest side. It's a little smaller than what you have at home, but you'll live. The space has everything that you need for survival: a bed, a heater, bathroom. You transfer your belongings from your suitcase to the closet, and in a heartbeat, you've made this place your home for the next four months.
—
"Don't forget the hashtags. The interns always forget them."
You type hashtags into your Notes app as Hyunjae — your supervisor — gives you a rundown of the ins-and-outs of your job. The inside of the JYPE building feels modern and sleek, probably from all that TWICE and Stray Kids income. This kind of design gives you a bit of comfort against the blues of working in a foreign country alone. It's not a complete package of coziness, but it'll work for now.
"There's also common sense stuff, but I'm sure you have it, right? Or they wouldn't have sent you here." Hyunjae scoffs before she gives you a questioning look. "Right?"
"Yeah, I have common sense, yeah," you respond to her, typing common sense into your Notes app and opening Safari. It's just to check if you're a well-mannered person.
Hyunjae smiles at you approvingly. "Alright, I'll go grab the passwords. Do whatever the hell you want until then."
—
The next few days pass by quickly. You're burying yourself in the work of posting the approved social media posts. There's TWICE. There's Stray Kids. There's ITZY. In the meantime, you've started to gain the ability to separate the Stray Kids members after years of boy band neglect. You've never missed a hashtag as well. That's the feat you're proud of.
"Why did you wanna be here? Like, why not somewhere close to your home?" Hyunjae quizzes, picking up a piece of tteokbokki with chopsticks. There's a small shot of soju at her side. There's a small shot of soju at your side. Just half a bottle of soju should suffice for this chilly Friday night.
"I just wanna be abroad," you answer. It's a simple answer to roll off your tongue. "Is that enough of a reason?"
There's a soft whir of the heater in this restaurant, working hard against the sub-zero temperature outside. The place smells of food and alcohol. There's a bit of woodiness in there as well.
"You don't get homesick?" Hyunjae asks. "I'm more concerned than curious right now, if you don't mind," and she chuckles softly.
You give her back a smile. "I live in a dorm during college, so this isn't very new to me."
Hyunjae just nods before picking up another piece of rice cake into her mouth. You figure you should grab a piece as well. Hyunjae is still in her blazer from work with a white undershirt. Her wide-legged pants look wonderful on her.
"So, who's your ultimate bias? Like, the greatest of them all." Hyunjae asks as she chews her food, a hand covering her mouth for politeness. "Not limited to just JYPE!"
"She's in JYPE, actually," and you chuckle. "It's Yeji."
Hyunjae nods receptively. "Nice, so what do you like about her?"
"She's my type! I like women who's on the more, what's the word, aggressive side?"
"Ryujin is aggressive as well — even more than Yeji," Hyunjae challenges, and that makes you think a bit. Yeji instead of Ryujin with assertion as the criterion is certainly something.
After a few seconds of thinking, you shrug out of surrendering to your supervisor's point. "Maybe I shouldn't have said aggressive."
Hyunjae chuckles. "It's fine. Sometimes we kinda just vibe with people, you know?"
You just smile at her before taking another piece of tteokbokki into your mouth.
—
The weekend passes by, and you find yourself sitting in your chair posting the activities and approved personal photos of your assigned groups on Monday. You stretch from time to time to release the fatigue building up inside your muscles. The atmosphere inside the office smells of air freshener and tea, while the sight is tinted blue from the lights installed above your head.
A Slack notification appears in the top right corner of your MacBook.
Han Hyunjae, 11:49: Itzy's in the building today
Han Hyunjae, 11:49: Wanna meet them?
You click on the notification to type a sure as a reply. Finally, you're meeting your ultimate bias up close!
Han Hyunjae, 11:50: Come to the cafe when you're ready!
—
The coffee shop on the ground floor is cozy and warm. You order a cup of iced Assam tea despite the harsh winter outside, with two pairs of tuna sandwiches from the cashier before settling yourself in front of Hyunjae at a table.
"They should be here in a few minutes," Hyunjae states, sipping her hot latte. There's a small mark of cream on her lips.
"You got a, uh," and you point at your upper lip. "Milk foam?"
"Oh, thanks." Hyunjae wipes the white stain off her mouth before gazing at the cafe entrance. You turn in her direction of sight as well, and you see them — ITZY — all five of them.
You've expected that they're people just like you — flawed and unique. Still, you can't help the quickening of your heartbeats for Hwang Yeji under the cafe lights. Your index finger taps on the table frantically as the women come closer to you and Hyunjae. You alternate your eyes between the five girls, but your focus seems to incline towards Yeji a bit more than the others. She looks different from what you've seen her in the photos and videos. Hwang Yeji just looks so damn tangible here — unfiltered, human.
You hear Hyunjae chuckle beside you. She notices you being star-struck seeing Yeji in person for the first time, though she just gives you space to get nervous seeing your idol.
The women settle themselves at a table not too far away from you. You turn back to Hyunjae, eventually, to see her smile tenderly at you.
"You wanna say hi to them?" she asks, pointing in ITZY's direction with her thumb.
You stammer out, "Yeah, sure. Do you have to, like, come with me?"
Hyunjae shrugs. "Up to you! They're used to the seniors from your college, though, so don't worry too much."
You give her an investigative look — lips tight, squinted eyes — before getting up from your seat and telling her: "Can you come with me, please?"
Hyunjae just laughs and stands up. "Alright, follow me."
You walk behind her at a somewhat close distance, watching ITZY's relative position getting closer to you. They chatter about something you can't make out against the waves of sound from the entire cafe.
"Hey!" Hyunjae greets, and the women turn to her and you. Yeji tilts her head slightly, perhaps curious about your presence.
With a drag, "Hello!" Yuna says first, happily, followed by a few waves and greetings from the other members.
"My new intern wanna say hi to you guys," Hyunjae says, presenting you simply with her hands.
"Hi," you stammer out shyly, trying to look cool in front of the girls despite the rapid heartbeats behind your ribcage. "I'm the new intern."
"The university intern from abroad, right?" Yuna asks with curiosity. So, it seems that there's only one foreign university MOU with JYPE according to her statement.
"Yeah," you respond politely, almost with a bow. You're awfully socially anxious for them here.
"So, he's our Instagram admin now?" Yeji asks your supervisor, pointing at you with her thumb. Her voice is so deep, unlike the tone you've heard on the stages and clips. You find it attractive, of course.
"Yep, until early May, unless we give him a post-internship contract," Hyunjae answers. "He hasn't forgotten a hashtag in the posts yet. That's some achievement!"
Your heart floats a little at Hyunjae's praise. The tension in your shoulders dissolves slightly.
Yeji smiles approvingly before asking you, "Would you stay if you get the contract? Barring the visa and logistics and all."
"Yeah!" you reply swiftly. "It has been great for me so far," and you add small gestures with your hands to show the excitement at the prospect. You'd jump at the chance of working abroad.
Yeji nods. "Well," and she pauses. Perhaps she's thinking of something to tell you, only to come up with nothing. "No, yeah, I don't have anything to tell you. Do you guys wanna say something?" Yeji asks the other members.
"Just don't be afraid to talk to us," Ryujin utters coolly, arms resting on the cushion behind her. She seems chill with you, and that's wearing your guard away a bit more. "Don't use the main account, though."
"Sure, I'll do my best," you tell Ryujin with a smile. And feeling brave, you hint, "I have just your public Instagrams for now, still."
Ryujin chuckles, giving you a knowing look. "You want our private accounts?" and the rest of the women laugh as well.
Your body freezes, not thinking straight at Ryujin's forward proposal. You just asked for ITZY's personal Instagram accounts, how brazen!
"Chill out, Ryujin. Let him settle in with the company first," Yeji states, and she turns to you. "Come to the end of the month party. We can, like, talk a bit more there."
"Party?"
"Yeah, we have a party at the end of each month," Yeji answers. "Everyone gets wasted and has deep talks — fun!"
"Everyone?" you ask another question, brain imaging the entirety of ITZY slurring and throwing arms around.
"Unless you're tolerant to alcohol, then yeah, everyone who's in Seoul on that day," Ryujin says, "I saw Hyunjae making out with—"
"You saw nothing," Hyunjae quickly halts Ryujin with a finger point, who's now laughing merrily.
Lia chimes into the conversation, "It's fine, Hyunjae. We're happy that you finally found someone!"
"Fuck off," Hyunjae curses, face already red with embarrassment. "I didn't make out with anyone. I'm a woman in her twenties who can look after herself!"
"Doesn't mean you have to be single!" Lia teases with a shrug.
"Again, fuck off," Hyunjae curses once more, and you just watch the banter unfold like that for a while until Chaeryeong gestures them to stop escalating the verbal onslaughts.
"No fighting in public, girls," Chaeryeong says, prompting a grumpy huff from Hyunjae and a giggle from Lia.
"Two tuna sandwiches and Assam tea!" a barista announces from behind the counter. That's your order.
"I'll go to the party, I promise," you tell the women, turning back and forth between your food and them. "Thanks for the welcome, really."
"See you around," Yeji says warmly.
"You're my bias, by the way," you say to Yeji.
She touches her chest with kind eyes and an aw. "Appreciate that, see you around to the power of two then."
You just smile back and nod at the girls before leaving the table with the now-beet-red Hyunjae.
"Who was it?"
"Oh my God, fuck you too."
—
The next three weeks move by rather slowly. Your job still consists of being present and posting media on your assigned groups' and members' accounts. The relationship between you and Hyunjae develops into something warm and comfortable in the meantime, and she helps you settle into living in South Korea by a large margin. It's not quite a place of home yet, but it's much better than four weeks ago.
Party day arrives, eventually. You've been spinning your chair for the last few hours out of excitement to get drunk under Hyunjae's supervision. Your state of mind has been fortified since the last day of your last semester back in your country. Intoxication in a foreign country has been a far-fetched concept to you, but you're going to experience it firsthand tonight!
From the side, you see Hyunjae walking towards you merrily in a blazer and a pair of wide-legged pants, humming some tune you don't recognize.
"Hey!" she starts with a blooming smile, and you wave back to her. "Have you posted the Hyunjin images yet? For his personal."
You check the Instagram feed for a bit — hynjinnnn. The latest post was 34 minutes ago, and you nod at your supervisor. "Yeah, half an hour ago."
"Splendid. Well, let's go now, shall we?"
You look at the time. It's about half past four post meridiem — not the time to clock out yet. You shoot her a puzzled look.
"Party day! We can leave early, don't worry," Hyunjae assures you. "We reserved the entire restaurant from five to eleven, and I don't wanna be late."
"Oh, alright, okay, sure," and you quit the apps on your MacBook before shutting it down. You put your belongings into your backpack and leave the premises with Hyunjae.
—
It's almost five. The restaurant is big — unbelievably big.
"How many people will there be again?" you ask Hyunjae. There's quite a number of people at the tables already, waiting for other employees and all sorts of meat and vegetables to be served.
"Last time was two hundred and twenty-one. This place can handle two hundred and fifty, though," she responds. "If there's fewer people, we get more soju."
You give Hyunjae a judging look.
The two of you settle yourselves at a long table that should fit about twelve people. There are already a few bottles of fruit-flavored soju on the table with shot glasses. You're waiting for more people to join the party, still. And while waiting, you pick up your phone and scroll through Twitter fan-wars and memes mindlessly.
As minutes pass, more and more people enter the restaurant, sitting at the tables all around the place. You're still surfing through Twitter, reading sombr-ending tweets and the somehow-still-ongoing war between BLINKs and ARMYs.
A hey from Hyunjae is what calls you back to the chatter of the diner.
At the entrance, you see the five girls of ITZY waving in your direction. They tread towards your table with Yuna almost jogging to you to say hi. She hugs Hyunjae and sits down beside her, across from your seat. The other members haven't even reached the halfway point yet.
"Intern boy, right?" Yuna asks you.
"Yeah," you reply with a soft smile, putting your phone back into the pocket. A server hands you the menu.
"Hello," Yeji greets as she appears beside you.
Your eyes widen — star-struck, shocked, almost dropping your menu. You can only stutter out, "Hi, Yeji."
She laughs joyfully before taking a seat next to you. "Well, nothing soju can't do."
Chaeryeong and Lia sit on the other side of the table, while Ryujin finds her seat on Yeji's left. There she is: Hwang Yeji, your ultimate bias, sitting beside you in a restaurant for a dinner with alcohol involved. This is going to be the most stressful meal you've ever had.
You order the food through the server, and they go back into the kitchen to prepare your meal. Your body is still trembling with anxiety with Yeji sitting beside you.
She seems to notice your nervousness still, and she kindly sparks a conversation with you with a giggle. "Do you drink often? Back in your country."
Still shaking, you stammer, "Yeah, kinda." And with shyness, you start pouring grape soju into the shot glasses for the surrounding girls, and you hand out the glasses to each person, trying not to drop them.
"Thanks," Yeji says. "Ever blacked out before? Sorry if this is, like, too personal," she continues to probe tenderly.
You appreciate the sentiment, really, but you still can't shake the apprehension away. A part of you remains sensible with her, at least, telling you to keep answering and asking the questions back. It'll break the barrier between you.
"Yeah, in my sophomore year," you reply, attempting to knock this fear out. "I woke up at a bus stop on my campus."
Yeji chuckles. "Well, I've blacked out before as well! It was at our dorm, though. So, yours was obviously more exciting."
"She puked all over herself," Ryujin chimes in, earning a shy laugh from Yeji. "Shit was fucking messy."
The image is not pleasing to your eyes at all, whatever melts the ice, though.
You share more of your experiences. "I remember my teeth probably hitting the edge of a toilet, and the bouncers carrying me down from the second floor."
Yeji laughs. "We're equally fucked, then."
You chuckle back at her. The tension begins to dissolve into something more domestic and casual. You can feel your bones relaxing inside your body, and you start asking more about Yeji. "So, how do you, like, get your stuff? You guys can't just go to a store and buy soju, right?"
"It's usually our bodyguards, yeah. They can carry a lot more than us, though, so it's probably for the better," Yeji answers with a shrug before taking a shot of grape soju, and you hand her the bottle to pour more. "How about your college life, though? Aside from that blackout."
"Difficult," you reply. "Having good friends helps a lot, at least."
Yeji nods with an ooh leaving her lips, then, "What do you guys usually do together, if you don't mind me asking?"
"It's standard college stuff, you know: eating, studying, taking classes. You probably—"
You notice Yeji's expression soften into something that almost resembles sadness, and you have to stop yourself from talking to empathize with her first.
"Yeah, and?" Yeji asks, almost sniffling with tears now. "I just, yeah, wait."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"
"No, no, keep talking. I just gotta manage myself a bit," Yeji responds with a slight stutter in her voice. She's wiping her eyes with the back of her hand now, and you shake your head profusely, adamant on not telling her about your college life further.
"Let's talk about something else," you comfort, eliciting a smile from Yeji's face. "Like, do you watch sports?"
Still with a slightly shaken voice, Yeji answers, "Yeah, I do watch F1 on some weekends, yeah."
With almost minimal knowledge of car racing, you ask her, "Can you tell me about it?"
Yeji's sniffles turn into a look of unease instead, putting your thoughts to a halt. "You're testing me or something? Is it because I'm a woman, is it that?"
"Misogyny, boo," Ryujin adds from behind Yeji and gives you a thumbs down. She's still apparently listening to your conversation intently.
Your eyes widen in fear of misunderstanding. You deny the accusations with haste. "No, no, no. Oh my God. I didn't mean to, like, question you like that. I'm so sorry."
Yeji stares at you blankly for a few seconds, letting you bask in the apprehension of being mistaken. You look at her fearfully, at least until she laughs at you, and Ryujin laughs at you as well.
"Just fucking with you, don't worry," Yeji assures. "I'd be happy to tell you about F1, and Ryujin too. We watch it together whenever we have a chance."
You let out a long sigh of relief. "Thanks. I really don't know shit about this."
—
"That's why I support them," Yeji states.
"And Hwang Yeji is cursed for years of torment and suffering of being a Williams fan!" Ryujin announces as she hugs Yeji from behind. "Should've been a Bearman fangirl like me."
Yeji chuckles. "I think I'd be dead before Williams has a top-three season."
There have been a few shots of soju since the start of F1 recap from Yeji and Ryujin, and you're not particularly tolerant of alcohol. So many things are flashing through your head right now: math problems, laundry, making out with someone. You feel a lot lighter than you're supposed to be. The sound of sizzling means shit right now as your brain decides to loop your favorite song on repeat.
"I'll go to the bathroom a bit," Yeji says as she gets up from her chair, leaving just you and Ryujin behind on your side of the table.
You go back to grilling meat and vegetables as Yeji disappears behind the bathroom door. Suddenly, Ryujin scoots over onto Yeji's chair, equally drunk as you are.
"Does she live up to your expectations?" Ryujin asks, bumping her shoulder to yours softly. "Yeji Hwang, your bias."
You reply without looking at her, still flipping food on the grill, "She's great! I mean, I don't expect her to be a perfect angel like that. You guys are human like me."
Ryujin nods. "That's a great mindset to have," and she joins you on the fire, helping you flip the food carefully.
"Thanks."
Ryujin helps you flip a few more pieces, then she pours you and herself a shot of soju. An oh leaves your lips. You don't expect Ryujin to do this for you. Still, you thank her and gulp down the shot alongside her.
"I think I'm gonna go outside a bit. Wanna come with me?" Ryujin asks you, evenly distributing the meat and vegetables to the other side of the table and not keeping one to your side.
"Me?" and not Lia or Chaeryeong or Yuna?
"Cultural exchange, wait," and Ryujin pauses for a thought. She looks at your supervisor. "Hyunjae, can I have your man for a bit?"
Hyunjae, drunk, replies with a reference to Jemima Kirke, "What the hell, sure."
Ryujin stands up from her seat in an instant, adjusting her leather jacket slightly. "We won't be long," she promises. The other members at the table just give each other a certain look as you stand up along with Ryujin. Your difference in height isn't much — you being taller than Ryujin by about an inch or so, but it feels like she's holding all the power against you here somehow. Maybe it's her assertive personality. Maybe it's her social status. Maybe it's the fact that you're a foreigner.
"Alright, follow me," Ryujin says before leading your steps towards the door to the outside. She grabs her coat from the seat, reminding you to take yours into the cold air as well. As you tread along the walkway, you two draw a few unwanted pairs of eyes. You're too drunk to raise a concern to Ryujin, though.
The door opens. You're met with the chilly late-January atmosphere, and it's making you shake immediately at the first contact. Your hands are tucked between your arms and flanks to preserve the body temperature. The air smells of smoke and asphalt. Ryujin continues to walk a few more steps against the stillness of the night, though, and you just have to follow her into the outside.
Ryujin stops a few meters away from the door as you struggle to walk under the cold. She chuckles tenderly at your inexperience in handling this temperature. Your body keeps shivering against the air uncontrollably. You reach Ryujin eventually, still.
She smiles almost awkwardly at you before starting. "I'm gonna be honest, I have no fucking idea what to talk about." She has a puff of air coming out of her mouth.
"It's fine," you scoff, smiling. You notice a puff of air coming out of your mouth as well. "Normally, I don't open myself up, though, so maybe I'll vent to you."
Ryujin laughs, leaning against the stone wall of the restaurant. The faint chatter from inside can be heard. "Thanks for trusting me," Ryujin says.
You just smile back at Ryujin, leaning against the stone wall beside her.
The silence goes on for a while. It's not suffocating — not the case of it's appropriate to say something. You notice that Yeji doesn't come out to get you back inside, but you don't raise your concern to Ryujin. Your body is still shivering in the cold, and Ryujin seems to notice it. She moves a little closer as if to warm you with her body.
You feel her warmth.
"Do you have a partner back home?" Ryujin cuts through the tranquil.
Mind in disarray, you answer succinctly, "I did."
She looks at you with a small sigh. "Sorry about that."
You scoff, turning to her as well. "It's fine — almost two years now. If anything, I'm a better person because of that."
"I used to have someone like that too — pre-debut," Ryujin says. "Life gets in the way, kind of thing. I'm sure yours is worse still."
You chuckle dryly. "It's not a competition. Don't invalidate your feelings," you assure her in the drunken stupor, moving closer towards her body a little more until your shoulders touch each other. Her eyes are a mix of longing and sadness. It's almost as if she's about to bawl in front of you, and you can do nothing but give her a warm smile against the cold air.
"You're so fucking sexy when you tell me that, you know?" Ryujin suddenly says, almost a scowl, and you just giggle, almost timidly. It's awfully forward, but you decide to ride the wave.
"Never counted you as a feeler," you reply with a tilt of your head, getting witty and brave to shoot a banter all of a sudden.
"I think more than feel, of course," Ryujin tells you. "But I'm not emotionally inept — suppressed, more like."
"Sorry to hear that."
Ryujin scoffs, "It's fine." She glances around her — the empty street, the buildings, the lights — and you do so as well, looking around until your eyes meet each other's. It's not the most magical moment you've ever been through — moderately drunk in the cold air. It's nice to have someone by your side at least, looking into your pupils and giving you the much-needed warmth.
"Do you wanna make out?" Ryujin utters. There are no signs of embarrassment or second thought on her face. You're not too shocked either. It's as if kissing celebrities is a normal occurrence for you.
You laugh quietly before responding with another question, "Do you do this often?"
"Making out?"
"Isolating an intern from abroad before, yeah, making out with them."
"You're the first man."
"Not the first person?"
Ryujin smiles awkwardly before propelling herself off the wall. She wraps her arms around your neck, slightly shaken from the alcohol. You see her cheeks flushing red under the nocturnal streetlights. "You're gonna judge me for that? Do I have to boo you again?"
You giggle in front of her, eliciting a mutual laugh back from Ryujin. Her breath smells of grapes. You're sure that yours is the same. The image is not as sensual as portrayed in the films, but it's certainly tangible.
"What if someone walks out and mistakes this for an affair?" you raise a concern, though half-hoping that Ryujin will just shut you up with her lips already.
"You're just quoting bullshit," she dismisses mischievously, apparently catching your tribute to a niche community. "Also, I don't plan on getting attached, since I won't be the only one having you."
You blink consciously, a tad surprised by the notion. Still, you're too hellbent on having Ryujin's grape-flavored tongue inside your mouth, so you tease, "You have me tonight, though."
Ryujin pouts with an aw, and she kisses you, like that.
She enters your mouth with little to no resistance from your body. Her tongue sweeps around the inside of your orifice, spreading her grape-ish taste and tasting your grape-ish taste simultaneously. Your hands cup her face gently, feeling the warmth of her cheeks. You're then pushed back up against the wall by Ryujin's sheer strength, and the act becomes even hungrier. She moans needily into the kiss, eliciting whines from your vocal cords. Your body shivers from the concoction of cold temperature and Ryujin's searing lips. You cannot think properly with everything that's going on, but your body is working on its own accord — flushing, shaking, moaning. You're so love-struck right now.
Ryujin gets a tad friskier with her hands, traveling down your frame from the back of your neck. She finds your arms. She finds your waist. She finds your thighs, and she gives them a totalitarian squeeze. You jolt, of course, and she chuckles against your lips.
Suddenly, with her core strength, Ryujin lifts you up against the stone wall of the restaurant. You yelp helplessly against her mouth. Still, you can't help but melt into her completely, submitting entirely to her.
"Wrap your legs around me, baby boy," Ryujin half-slurs, half-commands. You follow instantly, and Ryujin holds onto your supple ass firmly, using her body to push you up against the surface. Your cock twitches wantonly under the thick fabric of your pants, so eager to be freed and stimulated even more. It's pressed between your body and her taut abs. Never have you been pinned against the wall and wrapped your legs around someone like this. It's an utterly brand-new experience — one that you begin to appreciate more and more with the passing seconds.
"Ryujin," and a needy moan into the kiss. The lack of control over your body is awfully evident here, and you're more than ecstatic to let Ryujin take your place. Her lips taste of grape and a bit of smoke from the meat and vegetables. She gropes your rear authoritatively, not giving you an area to protest against her reign.
"God, you have such a nice ass," Ryujin hums, trailing her kisses to your cheeks and making you moan whorishly in Seoul's nocturnal air. She bites your ear with her lips. That's your erogenous spot, apparently, and you just collapse weakly into her. Ryujin is carrying your body now. It's a good thing that you're rather light for her. Then, she finds your neck, sinking her teeth into your skin playfully, almost dangerous in drawing blood. You find satisfaction in her acts, at least.
She keeps planting her kisses on parts of your face for a few more heartbeats until you hear a sound of clinking coming from the inside. The two of you are reminded of the party going on in the diner, and you're the first to come to your rational senses.
"Ryujin, we should, fuck," you stutter out weakly as she bites your lips. "We should go back inside."
Ryujin gives your lower lip a final tug before letting it go. "Yeah, we really should," she agrees with a chuckle, and she slowly lowers you down onto the floor. You let your feet settle on the asphalt surface of the street, and you feel like you can breathe and see things properly again.
You adjust your clothes a bit, doing your best to avoid raising suspicion from other employees. Ryujin does so as well, tugging at her coat hurriedly, setting her hair to its former state.
"Do we go back in together?" you ask with a little bit of nervousness.
Ryujin scoffs, "They'll know, definitely."
"Maybe," you cut her off, making Ryujin laugh heartily.
She continues, "They won't say a thing, though. Don't worry."
"If you say so."
—
The people at your table just exchange glances and giggle at one another. You're not giving them a harsh stare, but just smile and blink awkwardly at them as you sit back down beside Yeji. The sound of food sizzling reverberates through the air as Ryujin sits back in her seat as well.
"I didn't smoke," Ryujin starts, picking up a piece of meat with her tongs. "He didn't smoke."
"It's unhealthy!" you add. "No cigarettes or vapes involved in cultural exchange."
"That's encouraging, baby boy," Yuna jokes, and a wave of drunken laughter erupts from everyone at the table but you and Ryujin. You two can only look at each other as you wait for the hilarity to dissipate into the air.
—
With all the shakiness in the world, "So, you do smoke?"
Stern, "Vaped — past tense."
Ryujin's bed creaks weakly under her movement — mostly as a result of her hips thrusting.
For what happens between you two, it's the similar steps: making out, stripping off, lying down. The path from her door to the bed is smooth. Her room is damn tidy. Your clothes are all over the floor now, though. You don't flag the current activity as bizarre, just that it's your first time doing this with someone else.
Your back is lying against Ryujin's mattress, arching up each time the tip of her silicone cock jabs at your prostate. The moniker rolls off your tongue so easily as your asshole is being plowed open.
"Daddy."
You do this cute little quiver every once in a while when your G-spot is attacked at the perfect angle. Your real cock twitches pathetically, spewing droplets of precum out of its slit, painting your tummy with your juice. Ryujin's face hovers above yours, just centimeters away. Her breath still smells of grape soju from the restaurant with each exhale, mouth slightly agape to let out sinful moans. She looks into your eyes with hunger and desire to conquer you wholly, and the best part is: you just let her take all of you like that.
Ryujin cups your face tenderly, still thrusting her plastic dick into your untouched warmth. "Daddy's loving this virgin boypussy so much," she coos. "Taking my girlcock so well."
You don't reply, instead letting your eyes roll into the back of your head with each of Ryujin's thrusts. There are soft, pitiful whines leaving your mouth rather weakly. You feel a tad cold from the strap-on's length splitting your hole open, though Ryujin's body is warming you up nicely. Your legs are opening wide to accommodate the sheer girth of her cock. You want to be witty and sharp under her — a power bottom — but all that comes out is just a whorish moan.
The pleasure isn't one-way. There's this little nub on the other side of the harness pressing against Ryujin's clit. She's indulging in the pleasure as much as you are, just with less outward expression — small stutters, soft moans, shaking limbs. You want to reach out for her pert breasts sitting above your chest, but the pleasure of being penetrated by the silicone phallus is just too much for you to dictate a movement. Her chocolate-colored nipples have already hardened from the power that she holds over you, and you can only alternate your eyes between those pebbles and her face.
"The other girls are going to love you so much if you keep this up," Ryujin says airily, a hint of exhaustion in her tone. It sparks a bit of curiosity in your mind about the identity of the other women, though.
Ryujin's hips make contact with your ass at each loving thrust, creating these sounds of flesh smacking into each other that echo all over her room. Your body keeps trembling under her every time her cock jabs at your core, and she just smiles cheerfully at the pleasure of having you converted into her baby boy. It feels heavy — each attack on your prostate — but you hold on against the urge to cum all over yourself.
"Who are the other girls, Daddy?" you ask with your feeble, completely pathetic voice. Your hands grip the bedsheets tightly, creating these crumples in the fabric.
Ryujin chuckles at your question above you, and she just kisses you as an answer. Her tongue pushes yours back into your mouth with ease, sweeping the leftover taste of grape soju from the surface. Her hand cups your face lovingly in the soft moonlight from outside, shining through the window. She ups her pace by an ante, thrusting her synthetic cock into your tight asshole a tad quicker. At this speed, you almost lose control over your pliant physique — loosening grips, quivering limbs, rolling eyes.
She pulls back, satisfied with the kiss after a short while. A thin string of saliva clings to both of your lips — a link in the space between you. "Daddy's keeping it a surprise," Ryujin responds teasingly, licking her lips to taste you — still the grape soju. You whine needily at the view.
With Ryujin's intensity in splitting your asshole open, your orgasm arrives dangerously quickly. You feel the doom building up in your nerves down below, and you just have to announce, "Cumming, Daddy."
Ryujin just smiles — not rushing, not slowing down. She keeps her fervor steady, building you up towards the precipice under the soft moonlight.
"Daddy!"
Ryujin stuffs your mouth with her fingers, stifling the ecstatic wails from disturbing her bandmates, and your entire body goes stiff as your cock shoots ropes of cum out. It's painting your tummy and chest white. Your eyes roll into the back of your head with the surmounting pleasure wracking through your frame. Some of your semen lands on Ryujin's stomach and chest. She keeps pumping her hips into your ass to coax all of your juice out, and the result is your length twitching pitifully under her — drops into droplets that drizzle out of your slit. And as your orgasm subsides, all that's left is your cock leaking the last few globs of sperm down its length.
Ryujin laughs tenderly at the sight of your naked body utterly ruined by her fake cock, mouth sucking her fingers submissively. She languidly drags her phallus out of your asshole, and you can feel yourself expanding and contracting around her needily. It leaves you with a soft pop, lube spilling onto the mattress. Your warmth feels so empty without her filling it to the brim.
"Daddy," you mumble weakly against her digits, prompting Ryujin to pull them out of your mouth. All that leaves your mouth is a soft whimper, though.
Ryujin pulls your cheek playfully. "Who's Daddy's little cockslut?" and a hum.
"I'm Daddy's little cockslut," you respond, still weak in your tone. Your eyes slowly settle back into their normal positions, and you see her smile at you in a mix of hunger and affection.
"Good boy," Ryujin coos, giggling above you. She then plants her lips on your forehead fondly. Warmth blooms from the spot. "Let's take a shower together."
"Are you gonna fuck my ass again, Daddy?" you ask, mind still hazy with lust and complete compliance.
Ryujin purses her lips, thinking for a heartbeat. "Eat Daddy's cunt first, okay?" She caps the sentence off with a firm squeeze of your ass before getting off of you, and you feel like you can breathe properly again.
"Come here, baby," and Ryujin pulls your arm, getting you up from the mattress. You muster every ounce of your energy left to stand up in front of Ryujin, and you trudge after her into the bathroom.
—
A cunnilingus and a pegging in the shower later, you're lying on the bed together, facing each other with only the outside light illuminating your features.
"How's quitting smoking going?"
"Not good," and Ryujin giggles.
You don't bother putting your clothes back on, but let the heater and each other warm your body in the frosty night. Ryujin's expression makes it clear that she's still in the high of fucking your pretty asshole and gushing her juice all over your face. Her mouth smells of mint toothpaste now. The two of you figure just to share her toothbrush. Your finger circles around her dusky nipple gently, and Ryujin lets out a quiet whimper from time to time in pleasure.
"I started a few months after the debut, and Yeji found out because of my bad breath. I smoked like two packs a day. She helped me keep it a secret, though," Ryujin recounts, hand caressing your face affectionately. "Then I switched to vapes during SNEAKERS."
"Oh, yeah, I remember that."
Ryujin chuckles. "Yeah, and then I forgot to hide it one day. News was out and stuff, so I've been trying to quit it since."
You sigh, hand moving to her cheek now. "I appreciate you for trying in the first place."
"Really?"
"Really."
Ryujin smiles, receptive to your words. "Thanks."
You smile back at her, and you lean in for a kiss — a peck on her lips. It feels less passionate than the earlier making out sessions, but it's still surely sincere from the bottom of your heart.
"So, like, I'm being passed around you girls now?" you ask.
"If you do consent, then yeah!" Ryujin answers. "You can be a whore for the next few months if you want."
You consciously blink at her statement — whore. Not that you're going to say no at the chance of having sex with your hot co-workers during internship, though.
The air in the practice rooms of JYP Entertainment always smelled of ozone, industrial floor wax, and the desperate, metallic tang of ambition. For three years, that scent was your oxygen. You were the "Golden Boy" of the male trainee branch—the one with the sharpest lines in the choreography, the one the vocal coaches whispered about as a "sure thing" for the next global boy group. You lived in the rhythmic pulse of 808 bass lines and the blinding glare of fluorescent lights, flanked by two girls who were more than just fellow trainees; they were your kinetic shadows.
Shin Ryujin was the fire to your ice—a girl who danced with a visceral, jagged energy that demanded every eye in the room. Hwang Yeji was the steady, elegant needle that stitched your trio together, her "cat-eye" gaze seeing through every facade you tried to put up when the pressure of the monthly evaluations became a physical weight. You were a tripod of talent, a "00-line" powerhouse that everyone assumed would debut in parallel.
But the industry is a graveyard of "almosts."
A fractured ankle during a high-stakes showcase, a shift in the corporate "concept" for the new group, and suddenly, the "Golden Boy" was just another college student at Yonsei University, trading his stage outfits for oversized hoodies and a backpack full of political science textbooks. You watched from the sidelines—from a cramped dorm room—as Ryujin and Yeji ascended. You saw the ITZY debut teasers, the music show wins, and the global tours. You were proud, but the sting of the "what if" remained a dull ache in your chest.
Then, the text came. Not from a manager, but from a private KakaoTalk group that hadn't been touched in months.
Ryujin: The schedule cleared for 48 hours. No cameras. No staff. Just us.
Yeji: We’re going to the mountains, Y/n-ah. We need to breathe. And we need our third member back for a weekend.
Time: 05:45 AM Date: Saturday, May 16, 2026 Location: Parking Lot – Bukhansan National Park, Seoul
The morning mist is a thick, grey blanket clinging to the jagged peaks of the mountains. The air is crisp, biting through your The North Face windbreaker as you lean against your black Mazda3, waiting. The park is eerily silent, the usual swarm of weekend hikers still hours away from arriving.
A silver van with heavily tinted windows pulls into the lot, tires crunching on the gravel. It parks in the furthest corner, tucked away behind a row of pines. The sliding door opens, and two figures emerge, unrecognizable to anyone who doesn't know the exact tilt of their heads or the way they carry their shoulders.
They’re dressed in tactical hiking gear—leggings, heavy boots, and oversized caps pulled low. Ryujin is the first to reach you, her short hair tucked into a beanie. She doesn't say a word; she just crashes into you, her arms wrapping around your waist in a grip that nearly knocks the wind out of you.
"You actually showed up," she mumbles against your chest, the scent of her expensive hair serum mixing with the pine needles. "I thought you’d be too busy being a 'normal person' to hang out with us idols."
"Shut up, Ryuddaeng," you chuckle, returning the hug. "I was here twenty minutes early."
Yeji approaches at a more measured pace, though her smile is wide enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes. She looks older, more refined than the girl who used to share a bag of convenience store chips with you after midnight practice, but the warmth in her gaze is identical.
"He looks healthy, doesn't he?" Yeji says, reaching out to pinch your cheek, a habit she’s never quite outgrown. "College life suits you, Y/n. You don't have those dark circles under your eyes anymore."
"I have different dark circles now," you joke, adjusting the straps of your heavy 65-liter trekking pack. "Midterms are their own kind of 'monthly evaluation.'"
"Not today," Ryujin says, stepping back and clapping her hands together. Her eyes are bright, reflecting the first hint of the sun breaking over the ridge. "Today, there are no evaluations. No diet plans. No 'Yeji-unnie, watch your posture.' We’re hiking to the summit of Baegundae, and we’re camping at the hidden plateau. Just three trainees who never got their graduation trip."
You look at the two of them—global superstars who have the world at their feet, yet here they are, looking for a piece of the life they left behind. You feel the old familiar spark in your chest, the one that used to ignite before a performance.
"You sure you girls can keep up?" you tease, adjusting your cap. "I’ve been hitting the gym without a trainer breathing down my neck. I might leave you in the dust."
Yeji lets out a soft, feline laugh, her hand resting on the hilt of her trekking pole. "Careful, Rookie. We’ve been doing 'WANNABE' choreography for years. Our cardio is literally world-class. If anything, we'll be the ones setting up the tent while you're still gasping for air at the halfway mark."
The three of you begin the ascent. The trail is steep, a winding path of stone steps and gnarled roots. As the city of Seoul begins to shrink below you, the conversation shifts. It starts with light gossip about the old JYP trainers, but as the air gets thinner and the forest gets thicker, the mask of the "Idol" begins to slip.
"Sometimes," Ryujin says, her voice echoing off the granite walls as she climbs a particularly difficult section of the trail, "I see a guy in a hoodie at the mall, and for a split second, I think it’s you. I almost call out your name before I remember you're at Yonsei."
"Do you miss it?" you ask, pausing to catch your breath. "The training?"
"I miss us," Yeji says softly, standing on a rock ledge and looking out at the valley. "The three of us against the world. It’s lonely at the top, Y/n. Everyone wants something from us now. Managers, fans, the label... everyone except you."
You reach out, taking Yeji’s hand to help her up a steep incline. Her skin is warm, and for a second, the years of distance vanish. You're just three kids in the woods, running away from a world that moved too fast.
"Well," you say, looking at the summit looming above. "You’ve got me for the next forty-eight hours. No managers. No fans. Just the mountains."
"And the tent," Ryujin adds with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We only brought one, you know. To save weight. I hope you don't snore as much as you used to."
The incline sharpens as the trail transitions from dirt paths to the jagged granite spines of Bukhansan. The "leisurely hike" facade evaporates within the first forty minutes, replaced by the rhythmic, heavy breathing of three athletes who don’t know how to give less than 100%.
"Are we slowing down, Y/n-ah?" Ryujin calls out from the lead. She’s moving with a relentless, low-center-of-gravity gait, her hiking boots gripping the rock like she’s mid-performance. She looks back over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I thought you said you’d leave us in the dust. My heart rate hasn't even hit 120 yet."
"The pack is 20kg, Ryujin," you grunt, your quads burning as you vault over a fallen cedar trunk. "I’m carrying the tent, the stove, and the water. You’re carrying... what? A bag of trail mix and a dream?"
"I'm carrying the morale," she retorts, skipping up a set of stone stairs carved into the cliffside.
Yeji is right behind you, her movements fluid and economical. She’s the "Control Tower," even on a mountain. She watches your footing, her eyes sharp. "Don't let her bait you, Y/n. She’s been doing three hours of fasted cardio every morning for the 'Born To Be' tour. She’s a machine right now."
"A machine that still can't beat me to the ridge," you say, a surge of that old, competitive trainee adrenaline hitting your nervous system.
You shift the weight of the 65-liter Osprey pack, tightening the chest strap. You remember the nights in the basement of the old JYP building—the "Hell Drills" where the trainers would make you dance the same chorus for four hours straight until someone collapsed. You were always the last one standing.
"First one to the Baegundae helipad gets to choose the sleeping arrangements!" you shout, suddenly breaking into a power-hike, your long strides eating up the vertical distance.
"Hey! That's cheating!" Yeji yells, but you hear her laughter—and then the immediate, heavy thud-thud-thud of her boots as she and Ryujin break into a sprint behind you.
The trail becomes a blur of grey stone and deep green pine. It’s dangerous, technical, and exactly what you all needed. For a moment, you aren't a "failed" trainee and they aren't "ITZY." You’re just three rivals pushing your lungs to the bursting point.
You reach the narrow ridge line, the wind suddenly whipping across the granite, cold and smelling of high altitudes. The "Baegundae" summit marker is visible, a jagged peak crowned with a fluttering Korean flag.
You’re gasping, the cold air searing your throat, but you’re ten meters ahead. You scramble up the final rock face, using the steel cables anchored into the stone. Your boots find purchase, and you haul yourself onto the flat helipad just as a hand reaches out and grabs your ankle.
"Got... you..." Ryujin wheezes, collapsing onto the flat stone beside you. Her face is bright red, her beanie discarded somewhere a mile back. She’s drenched in sweat, her chest heaving, but she’s grinning like a maniac.
Yeji arrives three seconds later, gracefully dropping to her knees, her hands on her thighs as she tries to catch her breath. She looks at the two of you—sprawled out on the granite under the vast, blue Seoul sky—and starts to laugh, a genuine, unedited sound that carries over the valley.
"We... we’re idiots," Yeji gasps, wiping sweat from her forehead. "We have a world tour in three weeks, and we’re out here trying to give ourselves shin splints."
"Worth it," Ryujin says, rolling onto her back and looking at the clouds. "Did you see his face? He thought he had it."
"I did have it," you say, sitting up and unbuckling your pack, the relief on your shoulders feeling like a physical drug. "I touched the marker first. I win."
"Technically, I touched your leg while you were touching the marker," Ryujin counters, sitting up and nudging you with her shoulder. "In trainee rules, that’s a shared victory."
The sun is beginning its slow descent, casting long, golden shadows across the peaks. The city of Seoul below looks like a toy model, the skyscrapers of Gangnam and the Han River shimmering in the haze. Up here, the noise of the industry—the "Dispatch" headlines, the chart rankings, the fan comments—is silent.
"Look at that," Yeji whispers, pointing toward the West. The hidden plateau where you’re supposed to camp is nestled in a dip between two peaks, surrounded by ancient, wind-swept pines. "No one can see us down there. No telephoto lenses, no managers."
"Just us," you say, looking at the two girls. You realize that despite the fame, despite the millions of followers, they look the most beautiful right now—messy hair, no makeup, and exhausted from a climb they didn't have to make.
"Well, 'Winner,'" Ryujin says, standing up and offering you a hand. "Let's get to the plateau. I’m starving, and I expect the 'Golden Boy' to cook something better than military rations."
The hike down to the hidden plateau is a controlled scramble, the golden hour light turning the granite slopes into sheets of glowing amber. By the time you reach the clearing, the sun has dipped behind the jagged peaks of Wonhyobong, and the temperature drops with a sudden, predatory sharpness. The wind, once a refreshing breeze, now bites through your sweat-soaked base layers.
"Okay, 'Winner,'" Ryujin pants, dropping her smaller pack with a heavy thud onto the needle-strewn earth. She’s shivering slightly, her breath blooming in the air like pale ghosts. "Sun’s going down fast. If we don't get that tent up, we’re going to be three frozen idols by midnight."
"I've got it," you say, unbuckling the Osprey and pulling out the compact, high-altitude MSR tent.
The competitive spirit from the climb morphs into a frantic, rhythmic teamwork. You drive the stakes into the rocky soil while Yeji threads the aluminum poles through the sleeves with a surgical precision. She’s focused, her brow furrowed, her hands moving with the same economy of motion she uses for her stage blocking.
"Step back, Ryuddaeng," Yeji commands as she snaps the rainfly into place. "Y/n, pull the tensioner on the left. Harder."
The tent snaps into its dome shape—a small, orange sanctuary against the encroaching dark. It’s a three-person tent by technical definition, but as the three of you look at the interior, it looks suspiciously small.
"That... is a very intimate three-person tent," Ryujin says, peering inside. She looks at you, a tired, mischievous spark returning to her eyes. "I hope you don't roll around in your sleep, Y/n. Because there’s literally zero buffer zone."
"It’s for warmth," you say, trying to sound professional despite the sudden skip in your heart rate. "Bukhansan at night in May is no joke. Body heat is our best asset."
Time: 08:30 PM Location: The Plateau Campsite
The small camping stove hisses, a blue flame licking the bottom of a titanium pot. The smell of spicy Shin Ramyun and canned tuna—the "Trainee Special"—fills the clearing. You’re all huddled around the stove, wrapped in oversized down jackets.
Yeji is sitting close to you, her shoulder pressed against yours. She’s holding a steaming cup of tea, the steam curling around her cat-like eyes. "This tastes better than the 5-star catering we had in Paris last week," she whispers, taking a slow sip.
"Everything tastes better when you’ve climbed 800 meters for it," you say, stirring the noodles.
"I missed this," Ryujin says suddenly, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She’s looking into the small flame, her knees pulled to her chest. "Just sitting in the dark. No one telling us to check our phones. No one asking for a 'challenge' video. Just... the sound of the wind."
She looks at you, her gaze steady. "Do you ever think about what would have happened if you hadn't hurt your ankle? If we’d all debuted together?"
The question hangs in the air, heavier than the mountain itself.
"Every day," you admit, the honesty feeling raw in the silence. "But then I look at the two of you, and I think... maybe the universe knew I couldn't handle the 'Ice Prince' life as well as you guys do."
"You would have been the best of us," Yeji says firmly, her hand finding yours in the dark, her fingers cold but her grip strong. "But I'm glad you're here. I’m glad someone remembers who 'Hwang Yeji' and 'Shin Ryujin' are without the stage names."
Time: 10:45 PM Location: Inside the Tent
The temperature has plummeted to near freezing. Inside the tent, the three of you have laid out your sleeping bags in a single, continuous layer to maximize warmth. There is no space between you.
You’re in the middle.
On your left, Yeji has curled into a ball, her back against yours, her breathing deep and rhythmic. On your right, Ryujin is lying on her side, facing you. The space is so tight that you can feel the heat radiating from their bodies through the nylon bags.
"You're awake," Ryujin whispers, her face inches from yours. The moonlight filters through the orange rainfly, casting a soft, amber glow over her features. She looks vulnerable, the "Center" persona completely shed.
"Too cold to sleep," you whisper back.
"Come closer then," she says, her hand reaching out from her bag and grabbing the front of your fleece, pulling you an inch toward her. "The 'Winner' has to take responsibility for keeping the 'Morale' warm."
She rests her head on your shoulder, her hair smelling of woodsmoke and the mountain. You feel Yeji stir behind you, shifting in her sleep until her head finds the space between your shoulder blades, her arm instinctively draping over your waist.
You’re sandwiched between two of the most famous women in Asia, huddled together in a small tent on a cold mountain plateau. To the world, they are untouchable icons. To you, they are just the girls who used to steal your hoodies and help you practice your high notes.
"Don't leave again, Y/n," Ryujin murmurs, her voice trailing off as sleep finally claims her. "Don't be a stranger when we get back down."
You lie there in the dark, the weight of their trust and their bodies pressing into you, watching the shadows of the pines dance against the tent walls.
The mountain air outside the thin nylon walls of the MSR tent is a freezing, howling void, making the pocket of warmth inside feel like a singular, fragile universe. Condensation from your collective breath has begun to frost the interior of the rainfly, a soft, crystalline layer that traps the heat of three bodies pressed together without a single millimeter of space to spare.
Time: 02:45 AM Location: Hidden Plateau – Inside the Tent
Deep in the heavy, oxygen-deprived sleep of an athlete, the "Rookie" discipline and the "College Student" boundaries dissolve into pure, primal instinct. You shift in your sleep, your body seeking more warmth from the solid, radiating heat to your left.
Hwang Yeji has always been the one you gravitated toward in the dark practice rooms—the steady, rhythmic anchor of your trainee days. Subconsciously, you roll onto your side, your arm sliding over her waist, pulling her flush against your chest.
She stirs, a soft, feline moan escaping her lips, but she doesn't wake. Instead, she pushes back into you, her hips seeking the cradle of your lap.
The friction is immediate and electric. You’re wearing thin, tech-fleece joggers, and she’s in high-compression Nike leggings—fabrics designed to be a second skin. As you settle into her, your hand slides lower, your palm resting flat against the junction of her thighs.
Your fingers graze the unmistakable, firm swell of her mound. Even through the synthetic fabric, you can feel the dampness—a heavy, localized heat that suggests the "cat-eye" leader isn't just dreaming of the mountain. Your middle finger dips into the center of the fold, the fabric of her leggings clinging to the wetness of her anatomy. It’s a "cameltoe" so pronounced and slick that it feels like the heat is bleeding through the nylon and into your skin.
At the same instant, your own body betrays the "friendship" protocol. The proximity, the scent of her hair, and the way her rounded rear is grinding into your pelvis has triggered a heavy, thumping erection.
Your dick is a rigid, insistent rod of heat pressed directly into the small of her back and the top of her glutes.
Yeji’s breathing hitches. She isn't asleep anymore.
You feel her body go rigid for a heartbeat, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard you can feel it through her spine. But she doesn't pull away. Instead, she tilts her pelvis back, grinding her heat more firmly against your hand, her own fingers reaching back to find your arm, squeezing your bicep with a desperate, silent strength.
She can feel the sheer size and hardness of you through your fleece—a blunt, uncompromising reminder that the "Golden Boy" isn't a boy anymore.
To your right, Ryujin lets out a soft, rhythmic snore, her hand still tangled in the hem of your hoodie, blissfully unaware that the "trip to breathe" has turned into a high-altitude pressure cooker of suppressed years and unspoken "what-ifs."
"Y/n..." Yeji breathes, the sound so faint it’s almost lost to the wind outside. She doesn't turn around. She just stays there, her wetness soaking into your fingertips through her leggings, her body molding itself to the hard, pulsing line of your cock.
In the amber gloom of the tent, the line between "best friends" and "something more" has been crossed, and there’s 800 meters of granite between you and the rest of the world.
The howl of the wind outside the MSR nylon is a jagged, lonely sound, but inside the tent, the air has become a humid, pressurized weight. The "White-Out" of the mountain is mirrored by the sensory blackout in the dark; you can’t see Yeji’s face, but you can feel the lightning-strike of her pulse through her skin.
Time: 03:15 AM Location: Inside the Tent – The Breaking Point
The "accidental" cuddle has evolved into a deliberate, synchronized motion. You’re still behind her, your chest pressed into her shoulder blades, but your hand is no longer just resting. You slide your fingers under the waistband of her Nike leggings, the elastic snapping softly against her skin.
She let out a sharp, hitched breath—half-gasp, half-sob—and her hips arched instinctively back into your groin. Your hand found the raw, slick heat of her center, her lace thong already soaked through from the friction and the mounting tension of the night. You didn't hesitate; you slid two fingers beneath the lace, finding her clit, which was a hard, throbbing pearl of sensitivity.
"Y/n-ah..." she whimpered, her voice a ghost of a sound.
Beside you, Ryujin shifted in her sleep, her arm draped over your torso, her breathing heavy and rhythmic. The risk was astronomical. If she woke up, the "ITZY" sisterhood and your three-way friendship would be shattered in a single orange-tinted second.
Yeji reached back, her hand fumbling in the dark until she found the drawstring of your fleece joggers. Her fingers were shaking, but she was a dancer—she had a clinical, perfect control over her movements even when her mind was a blurred mess. She pulled the fabric down, her palm sliding over the hot, pulsing velvet of your cock.
She let out a soft, shuddering moan against the nylon floor. You were thick, straining against her grip, the veins along your shaft thumping in time with her heart. She wrapped her fingers around you, her thumb tracing the weeping head of your glans, and began a slow, agonizingly precise slide.
It was a silent, desperate choreography.
You were moving your fingers against her, finding the rhythm of her internal twitches, your thumb working her clit until she was a wet, shaking mess against your chest. At the same time, her hand was a blur of motion on your length, her palm slick with your pre-cum as she pumped you with a frantic, silent hunger.
The friction of the tech-fabrics, the smell of woodsmoke and her YSL perfume, and the constant, terrifying presence of Ryujin just inches away pushed you both to a jagged cliff edge.
Yeji’s back arched, her internal muscles clenching around your fingers in a violent, rhythmic milking motion. She buried her face in the hood of your sweatshirt to stifle the scream, her entire body vibrating with a silent, high-voltage orgasm that left her limp and soaked in your arms.
Seconds later, you followed. You bit your lip so hard you tasted copper, your body shuddering as you came against the back of her thighs, the heat of it soaking into the fleece of your joggers.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the wind and Ryujin’s soft, oblivious snoring. You stayed locked together, the "Golden Boy" and the "Leader," bound by a secret that 800 meters of granite couldn't hide.
The "release" of the manual friction didn't break the tension; it acted like a catalyst, turning the humid air inside the MSR into a pressurized vacuum. The chemical smell of the rainfly, the scent of her sweat, and the heavy, rhythmic breathing of Ryujin just inches away made the risk feel like a physical weight on your chest.
Yeji turned in your arms, her movements a slow, agonizing crawl. In the dim, amber light of the tent, her cat-eyes were dark, blown out with a hunger that the "National Leader" never showed the cameras. Her face was flushed, a stray lock of her dark hair stuck to her damp forehead.
"We can't... we shouldn't," she breathed, her lips hovering an inch from yours. "If Ryuddaeng wakes up..."
"I know," you whispered, your hand sliding up her thigh, the friction of the Nike leggings sounding like a roar in the silence.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she reached into the small mesh pocket of the tent wall where she’d tucked her "emergency" kit. Her fingers fumbled with a small, square foil packet—a Durex she’d bought at a convenience store in Tokyo months ago, hidden away for a "what if" she never thought would happen.
"Put it on," she commanded, her voice a jagged, desperate rasp.
You stripped your joggers down to your ankles. You were already hard again, the blood thumping in your ears. You rolled the latex down your length, the fit tight and secure, the sound of the foil crinkling like a gunshot in the quiet.
Yeji didn't wait. She peeled her leggings down to her knees, her pale skin glowing like marble in the moonlight. She straddled you, her knees digging into the thin foam sleeping pad. She guided you to her entrance—she was soaked, a slick, hot mess that made the entry effortless.
She lowered herself onto you in one slow, deliberate motion. You bottomed out instantly, your cock buried deep in her tight, twitching walls. Yeji’s head fell back, her jaw clenching so hard the muscles stood out in her neck. She stifled a scream against your shoulder, her fingers digging into your biceps until her nails drew blood.
You started a rhythmic, punishing grind. Because of the space, you couldn't move with full range, so you focused on the friction—your pelvis hitting hers with a muffled thud that was camouflaged by the howling wind outside.
Your mouth found hers, a desperate, silent kiss that tasted of salt and the mountain air. Your hands moved to her waist, your thumbs hooking into her hip bones, pulling her down onto you with every upward thrust.
To your right, Ryujin stirred. She let out a soft groan and rolled onto her side, her back now facing the two of you. Her hand, still searching for warmth in her sleep, brushed against your thigh.
You froze. Yeji’s eyes went wide, her heart hammering against your chest like a trapped bird. You both stayed perfectly still for ten agonizing seconds, the only sound the wind and the blood rushing in your veins.
Ryujin settled back into a deep, rhythmic sleep.
The near-miss pushed you both over the edge. Yeji began to move with a frantic, silent speed, her internal muscles clenching around you in a rhythmic milking motion. She was a dancer; she knew exactly how to move her hips to maximize the friction, her "cameltoe" now a hot, pulsing furnace around your shaft.
"Y/n... ah... now," she breathed into your ear.
You snapped. You drove into her three more times, your body shuddering as you came into the condom, the heat of it radiating through the latex. Yeji followed a second later, her back arching, her entire body vibrating with a silent, high-voltage orgasm that left her limp and sobbing against your chest.
You stayed locked together for a long minute, the "Golden Boy" and the "Leader," bound by a secret that 800 meters of granite couldn't hide.
The heavy, rhythmic silence that follows the climax is broken only by the frantic thumping of two hearts and the distant, lonely whistle of the wind against the tent. You’re still buried deep inside Yeji, your forehead resting against her damp shoulder, both of you paralyzed by the sheer, illicit weight of what just happened.
Then, the sleeping bag to your right rustles.
"You guys are really bad at being quiet."
The voice is low, raspier than usual, and vibrates with a dry, knowing edge. Your blood turns to ice. Yeji freezes, her internal muscles giving one final, involuntary twitch around your cock.
Ryujin isn't facing the wall anymore. She’s propped up on one elbow, her short hair a messy halo in the amber twilight of the tent. Her gaze is steady, tracking the way Yeji is straddling you, the way your joggers are bunched at your ankles, and the unmistakable, lingering scent of sex that has replaced the smell of woodsmoke.
"Ryujin-ah..." Yeji breathes, her voice trembling as she tries to pull her sweatshirt down. "I... we..."
"Don't," Ryujin cuts her off, sitting up fully. She doesn't look angry. She looks... restless. Her eyes fix on the place where you and Yeji are still joined, then flick up to your face. "I've been awake since the 'accidental' cuddling started. Do you have any idea how torturous it is to listen to your two best friends lose their minds while you’re trapped in a sleeping bag three inches away?"
She reaches out, her hand sliding over the nylon of your sleeping bag, her fingers tracing the line of your thigh. "The 'Golden Boy' and the 'Leader.' Always the perfect ones. Always the ones following the rules."
She leans forward, the space in the tent becoming impossibly small. She’s so close you can smell the mint on her breath. She reaches out and grabs the hem of your fleece, her knuckles brushing against your stomach.
"I’m horny too, Y/n-ah," she whispers, her gaze dropping to your lap. "And I’m not spending the rest of this trip being the 'third wheel' to your secret."
She doesn't wait for an invitation. She reaches for the zipper of her own sleeping bag, sliding it down in one smooth, aggressive motion. Underneath, she’s wearing a thin, ribbed tank top—no bra—and a pair of boy-short undies that leave nothing to the imagination. Her skin is flushed, her nipples distinct points against the fabric.
"Yeji-unnie," Ryujin says, looking at the older girl. "You had your turn. Move over."
Yeji looks at her, then at you. The shock in her eyes is slowly being replaced by something darker—a shared, desperate understanding. The "ITZY" bond is deep, but the "00-line" bond is something more primal.
Yeji slides off you with a wet, soft sound, but she doesn't go far. She settles behind you, her front pressing into your back, her arms wrapping around your chest.
Ryujin crawls over, her knees bracketed around yours. She reaches down, her fingers finding the base of your cock, which is already beginning to throb and stiffen again at the sight of her. She looks at the condom—stretched and clouded—and then looks you dead in the eye.
"Get a fresh one, Y/n," she commands, her voice a low, melodic growl. "I want to see if the 'Golden Boy' has enough energy for both of us."
The mountain outside is a freezing void, but inside the MSR, the "Summit of Secrets" has just become a three-way pact.
The interior of the MSR tent is now a stifling, humid microclimate, the air thick with the scent of latex, salt, and the raw, electric musk of the three of you. The "White-Out" outside feels like a distant memory; the only reality that matters is the orange-tinted space where the "Golden Boy" is no longer a spectator to his own life.
Ryujin doesn't wait for your permission. She reaches down, her fingers cool against your heat as she pinches the tip of the used condom and slides it off your length with a wet, rhythmic friction. She tosses the latex into a small waste bag with a clinical indifference that only makes your pulse hammer harder.
Then, she leans in.
Her short hair brushes against your thighs as she takes you into her mouth. She isn't gentle; she’s hungry. She uses her tongue to swirl around the crown, cleaning the remnants of the first round with long, firm strokes that make your hips buck off the sleeping pad. She looks up at you while she does it, her gaze defiant and dark, as if she’s claiming her stake in the night.
Beside you, Yeji is watching, her breathing ragged. She reaches out, her hand sliding over Ryujin’s shoulder, her fingers tangling in the shorter girl’s hair as she watches her best friend worship the man they both spent years trying to forget.
Ryujin pulls back with a soft pop, her lips glistening. She reaches for the second Durex packet, ripping it open with her teeth—a move so predatory it sends a shiver down your spine. She rolls the fresh latex down your shaft, her palms smoothing it over your skin until you’re rigid and aching again.
"My turn," she whispers.
She doesn't stay in front of you. She flips around, her back to your chest, and drops onto all fours on the cramped foam padding. Her boy-short undies are already around her ankles. Her rear is high, her back arched into a deep, agonizing curve that highlights the lean, dancer’s muscle of her thighs.
You enter her from behind, a deep, blunt thrust that bottoming out instantly. Ryujin lets out a muffled, guttural growl into the sleeping bag, her fingers clawing at the nylon floor. She’s tighter than you expected, her internal muscles clenching around the condom with a rhythmic, desperate strength.
But you aren't alone with her.
Yeji crawls behind you, her front pressing into your back. She reaches around your waist, her hands finding Ryujin’s breasts from either side, kneading the soft mounds as you drive into the younger girl. Yeji leans down, her mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck, her teeth grazing your pulse point in time with every thud of your pelvis.
"Faster, Y/n-ah," Ryujin gasps, her head lolling back to rest on your shoulder. "Don't... don't hold back... give it to me like you did her..."
The tent is a blur of moving limbs and hot skin. You’re the center of a high-altitude storm, sandwiched between the "Center" and the "Leader." Every thrust into Ryujin is punctuated by Yeji’s hands on your chest and her whispers in your ear. The friction is a physical roar, the "cameltoe" of Ryujin’s wetness and the heat of Yeji’s body creating a sensory overload that pushes you to the brink.
As you reach the climax, your hands move to Ryujin’s hips, pulling her back onto you for three final, deep surges. You groan into the silence, the heat of the release flooding the condom as Ryujin’s body trembles in a violent, silent peak.
The three of you collapse into a heap of tangled limbs and heavy breathing, the "Summit of Secrets" finally, fully conquered.
Time: 05:30 AM Location: Hidden Plateau – Bukhansan Summit
The sun doesn't rise so much as it bleeds through the "White-Out" mist, turning the world outside the orange nylon into a flat, ethereal silver. Inside the tent, the air is heavy and stagnant, smelling of salt, spent adrenaline, and the faint, lingering scent of Byredo and woodsmoke.
You wake up with Yeji’s head on your chest and Ryujin’s leg draped possessively over your waist. The "Golden Boy" is buried under a tangle of high-performance fleece and the two most famous women in the country. The silence is absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, soft puff of their breathing.
As the light strengthens, Yeji stirs first. She sits up slowly, her dark hair a chaotic silk curtain around her face. She looks down at you, then at Ryujin, and finally at the discarded foil packets near the tent door. There is no shame in her eyes—only a quiet, feline clarity. She reaches out and traces the faint red mark on your collarbone with her thumb.
"The mist is clearing," she whispers, her voice a low rasp. "We have three hours to get down the mountain before the first group of hikers reaches the ridge."
Ryujin opens one eye, a lazy, triumphant smirk tugging at her lips. She doesn't move her leg. "Let them come. I’ve never felt more awake in my life." She sits up, stretching her arms above her head, the movement pulling her tank top taut over her skin. she looks at you, her gaze lingering on your mouth. "You okay, Y/n-ah? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
"Just processing the technical fouls," you joke, though your voice is thick.
The descent is a different kind of challenge. The competitive fire from the climb has been replaced by a heavy, magnetic tension. Every time you reach back to help Yeji over a rock, her fingers linger on your palm a second too long. Every time Ryujin brushes past you on a narrow ledge, her shoulder leans into yours with a deliberate, grounding weight.
When you finally reach the gravel parking lot, the silver van is waiting, its engine already idling. The "Idol" masks go back on—the bucket hats, the oversized masks, the guarded stances.
"Back to reality," Ryujin mutters, standing by the sliding door. She reaches out and squeezes your hand, her grip bruising. "Don't think this was just a 'mountain' thing, Y/n. We know where you live."
Yeji steps closer, her cat-eyes unreadable behind her dark lenses. She leans in, her breath warm against your ear. "Study hard, Assemblyman. We'll see you for 'extra credit' next weekend."
The van doors hiss shut, and the silver vehicle pulls away, disappearing into the Seoul traffic. You stand in the quiet lot, the weight of your 65-liter pack feeling strangely light. Your muscles ache, your skin still smells of them, and your phone buzzes in your pocket with a single notification from the group chat.
Yeji: Best. Evaluation. Ever.
You turn toward your Mazda3, the "Golden Boy" finally graduating from the past and stepping into a future that the JYP trainers could never have choreographed.
Synopsis: After watching you laugh a little too easily with the other members during a long practice break, Ryujin’s jealousy boils over. Back in the dorm, she reminds you exactly who you belong to—rough, demanding, and impossible to forget.
---
The practice room still smelled like sweat and floor cleaner when the break finally hit. You were ITZY’s assistant manager, which meant you spent most days running around with water bottles, schedules, and snacks while trying not to stare too obviously at Ryujin. But today she was in one of her moods, eyes sharp every time you handed something to the others.
Yeji had just cracked a joke about your terrible dance moves during the last run-through, and you laughed—loud, easy. Lia leaned against your shoulder for a second, catching her breath, while Yuna teased you about bringing her favorite iced americano again. Chaeryeong even ruffled your hair. Normal stuff. Harmless.
But Ryujin didn’t think so.
She didn’t say a word the whole ride back to the dorm. Just sat in the back of the van with her arms crossed, earbuds in, jaw tight. The other girls chattered like usual, but you caught her staring at you in the reflection of the window more than once. Dark. Pissed.
The second the dorm door shut behind the last member, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you straight to her room. The lock clicked loud enough to make your stomach flip.
“Ryujin, what—”
“Shut up.” Her voice was low, dangerous. She shoved you back against the door, pressing her body into yours. “You think it’s funny? Flirting with them right in front of me?”
“I wasn’t—”
Her hand came up, fingers wrapping around your throat—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse race. “Don’t lie to me. I saw you. Laughing with Yeji. Letting Lia lean on you like that. Yuna batting her lashes. You’re mine. Or did you forget?”
Her eyes were blazing, that signature Ryujin intensity dialed up to eleven. She looked so fucking hot when she was angry—black practice hoodie half-zipped, sports bra underneath, hair messy from dancing all day. You swallowed under her grip.
“I didn’t forget,” you breathed.
“Good.”
She kissed you like she wanted to punish you. Teeth clashing, tongue demanding entrance. Her free hand yanked at your shirt until buttons popped. You groaned into her mouth, hands instinctively grabbing her waist. She slapped them away.
“No touching until I say so.”
Ryujin pushed you toward the bed, stripping her hoodie off in one smooth motion. Her toned stomach and perfect tits came into view, nipples already hard under the thin fabric of her bra. She shoved you down onto your back and climbed on top, straddling your chest.
“Take your clothes off. Now.”
You hurried to obey, kicking off your pants while she watched with dark satisfaction. When you were naked, she stood up long enough to peel off her own shorts and panties, leaving herself bare. Then she crawled back up, knees on either side of your head.
“You’re going to make it up to me,” she said, lowering herself onto your face without warning. Her pussy was already wet, slick against your tongue as she started grinding. “Eat me like you mean it.”
You did. Lapping at her folds, sucking on her clit, hands finally allowed to grip her thighs as she rode your face. Ryujin moaned above you, one hand fisting your hair, the other braced on the headboard. Her hips moved in sharp, needy circles.
“Fuck—yes, just like that. You’re better at this than talking to the others, huh?”
Her thighs trembled around your head when she came the first time, flooding your mouth with her taste. She didn’t give you time to recover—just slid down your body, wrapped her hand around your aching cock, and sank down in one go.
“Shit, Ryujin—” you groaned, head falling back.
She planted both hands on your chest and started riding you hard. Cowgirl, but mean. Hips slamming down, pussy clenching tight around you with every bounce. Her tits swayed with the motion and you couldn’t help reaching for them.
She slapped your hands again. “I said no touching.” But she leaned forward anyway, letting her breasts brush your face while she kept that brutal rhythm. “You don’t get to play with these until I’m satisfied.”
You sucked one nipple into your mouth anyway, earning a sharp moan and a particularly hard grind from her. Ryujin’s pace faltered for a second before she doubled down, fucking herself on your cock like she owned it. Because she did.
After a while she climbed off, breathing hard, and flipped onto her stomach. “Prone bone. Now. And you better fuck me like you’re sorry.”
You moved behind her, spreading her legs and pushing back inside that tight, dripping heat. The angle was insane—you could feel every inch as you thrust deep. Ryujin pushed her ass up to meet you, moaning into the pillow.
“Harder. Don’t you dare hold back.”
You gave it to her, hips snapping forward, skin slapping loudly. One hand reached around to rub her clit while the other pressed between her shoulder blades, keeping her pinned down exactly how she wanted. She came again like that, cursing your name, walls fluttering wildly around your cock.
But Ryujin wasn’t done.
She pushed you off, turned around, and shoved you onto your back once more. This time she faced away—reverse cowgirl—and sank back down, giving you the perfect view of her ass as she rode. Her hand reached back to choke your thigh, nails digging in.
“Tell me who you belong to,” she demanded, voice husky.
“You. Only you, Ryujin.”
“Louder.”
“Fuck— you, Ryujin. I’m yours.”
She laughed breathlessly, speeding up. The wet sounds of her pussy taking every inch filled the room. You were getting close, dangerously close, but she could tell.
“Don’t you dare cum yet.”
She slowed down torturously, edging you until you were whimpering under her. Only then did she pick up speed again, leaning forward so you could watch her pussy swallow your cock over and over.
When she finally let you finish, it was on her terms. She slammed down one last time, grinding deep as her own orgasm hit.
“Inside. Fill me up. Now.”
You groaned loud, hips jerking as you pumped rope after rope of cum deep into her pussy. Ryujin moaned through it, milking every drop, her body shaking on top of you.
For a long minute the only sound was both of you trying to catch your breath. Then she slowly lifted off, your cum leaking down her thighs. She looked back at you with a satisfied little smirk, even though the jealousy still lingered in her eyes.
She collapsed beside you and immediately pulled you close, legs tangled, head on your chest. The angry energy melted away into something softer.
“You’re such an idiot sometimes,” she muttered, tracing a finger over your collarbone. “I hate seeing you like that with them. Even if it’s nothing.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” You kissed her forehead, running your hand through her damp hair. “It’s only ever been you, Ryujin. The others are just… the group. You’re the one I can’t get enough of.”
She hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck. “Better not forget again. Or next time I won’t let you cum at all.”
You chuckled, holding her tighter. The dorm was quiet now—the other members probably in their rooms with headphones on, pretending they hadn’t heard anything. Yeji might tease you about it tomorrow. Yuna would giggle. But right now it didn’t matter.
Ryujin’s breathing evened out against your skin, possessive even in sleep. You stayed awake a little longer, fingers gently stroking her back, knowing you’d take her jealousy any day if it ended like this.
A little continuation of that Ryujin smut that I had done for Kinkmas. I will leave a link for it at the bottom of this list. Also, I may have gone overboard...it is all smut. And I hope the person that wanted this like it
Length 2.8K
G!P Ryujin X Yuna
A Hard Surprise/ The First Part
It was happening again. Ryujin groaned. She wanted to resist, but the pleasure she felt was too much. She was sitting at the edge of her bed, her hands on the giant cock that had reappeared between her legs. Ryujin could hardly think straight; her hand began to glide along her shaft. “Fuck, I need to fuck,” she said through gritted teeth. Precum began to leak from the tip of her cock as her hands continued to move along it. Last time, it had been so much easier to get through. Ryujin knew she needed to get out and find a woman to fuck. Thoughts of her members passed through her mind. She tried to push them back. The last time this had happened, she had thoughts about turning her members into her toys, and while those thoughts had gone away in the month she had been normal, they lingered.
While her mind was busy, Ryujin hadn’t noticed Yuna walk into her room. She stood in the doorway, her eyes wide as she saw the huge shaft between Ryujin’s legs. She could see clearly; it wasn’t a toy. Ryujin noticed a moment later that Yuna had spotted her. She stood up instinctively, the meat between her legs swinging; Yuna’s eyes were glued to it. Ryujin couldn’t get a word out. Her mind was racing.
The pheromones that came along with her precum had already hit Yuna’s nose. Her body felt warmer. The maknae stepped closer to Ryujin, her body moving on its own. Ryujin, for her part, struggled to move away. She watched Yuna approach and kneel before her. She saw the pretty woman’s pink lips and wanted them around her cock. “Unnie,” Yuna said softly. There was silence between them as Yuna opened her mouth, taking the broad head into her mouth. As soon as she tasted Ryujin’s precum, she was hooked. Ryujin moaned loudly. Yuna’s tongue danced along the edge of her cock before sliding over the center and repeating the process. The want she had to resist her members quickly overpowered her. Lust filled Ryujin’s eyes as Yuna bobbed her head, taking in more of her cock. Yuna tried to take it all into her mouth, but she would gag near the base. The sounds of Yuna choking on her cock fed into Ryujin’s desires, though. She placed her hand on the younger woman’s head and thrust into her mouth.
Yuna struggled, her eyes watering as she repeatedly gagged on Ryujin’s thick shaft. She squeezed Ryujin’s thighs, wanting a small chance to catch her breath, but the older woman kept thrusting, her cock ramming in the back of Yuna’s throat, a small amount unable to be fit inside. With each repeated hit to the back of her throat, Yuna felt her mind becoming hazy. Her nostrils filled with Ryujin’s musk, her tongue could taste the older woman’s precum and feel the veins on her cock throbbing. Slowly, Yuna’s hands slipped down Ryujin’s legs, falling between the younger woman’s. Yuna’s fingers grazed her covered slit. She moaned around Ryujin’s cock, making the older woman’s moans grow louder. Yuna couldn’t help herself; she moved her panties to the side and pushed her fingers into her slit. She didn’t know whether it was because it was Ryujin doing it, or because of the size of her cock, or maybe she was just that easy, but Yuna found the situation erotic. Here she was choking on her member’s massive dick, running out of breath, and her only concern was fingering herself.
The same feeling applied to Ryujin. She was fucking the maknae of her group’s mouth, and she was loving it. She might not be able to get everything in with this position, but Ryujin was sure she’d be able to fuck her throat well in another. For now, though, having Yuna’s mouth around her cock was making her get close to her climax. Ryujin pulled back for a moment, letting the maknae get a few breaths in before plunging her cock back into her warm mouth. Ryujin gave her a few thrusts before she finally burst. Yuna’s eyes shot open as she tasted Ryujin’s salty cum on her tongue. It slid down her throat easily, landing right in her stomach. It just kept coming too. Yuna was swallowing as fast as she could, her mouth filling to the point of overflowing multiple times. Cum spilled from the corners of her mouth, but from the moment it hit her tongue, Yuna was addicted. She sucked hard on the tip, wanting more of the salty liquid. It was like a drug; it made her body feel warmer, feel good. As Ryujin let go of the younger woman’s head, a strand of saliva kept her connected to the thick shaft. Yuna’s eyes were half-lidded, but she stared at the beast that had just cum down her throat.
Her panties were thoroughly soaked. Yuna’s eyes slowly drifted upward to meet Ryujin’s. The older woman’s body moved on its own, lifting Yuna, tossing her on the bed, pulling her sweatpants and panties off. The younger woman put up no resistance, instead helping Ryujin get her clothes. Yuna's mind was hazy, but her body knew what it craved. She threw her top off and lay there on the bed. She felt Ryujin climb over her, the thick cock that was in her mouth moments ago prodding her lower lips.
There was no use in fighting it anymore. Her body wouldn’t listen to her anymore. Ryujin grabbed Yuna’s waist and impaled the petite woman. Yuna was tight; the pleasure she felt as Yuna’s wall clung to her cock was immeasurable. Ryujin’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. All she could hear was Yuna’s moan as it filled the bedroom. It was impossible for Ryujin to do anything else now. She began dragging her cock out of Yuna. The younger woman’s moans continued, her arms gave way, and she collapsed face-first onto the bed. Ryujin’s rough hands were the only things keeping her ass up. “Unnie,” she moaned, her mind filled with thoughts of Ryujin’s massive cock splitting her in two. Yuna gripped the bedding, her knuckles turning white from how tightly she held it. Yuna was pressed against the bed as Ryujin drove her cock back into her, the thick shaft stretching her tiny cunt as the head knocked against her womb.
Yuna’s mind went blank because of that thrust. Her body quivered as Ryujin brought down another heavy thrust. She bit the blankets, keeping her moans muffled as Ryujin’s thrusts slowly built up. Yuna couldn’t handle it, the pleasure built up quickly within a minute she was cumming on Ryujin’s cock. Her walls squeezed down like a vice on the thick shaft. Soon her entire body collapsed, and Ryujin became unable to hold up her lower half.
Yuna could feel Ryujin’s saliva dripping onto her back as her thrusts continued. The older woman was driving her cock into her deepest parts. The feeling of her warm cock sliding inside her was better than any dildo she had.
Ryujin felt the same way about Yuna’s cunt. She was ramming her length into the young woman faster and faster. She was plowing the young woman into the bed. The tightness she felt while Yuna cummed on her cock brought her the greatest pleasure. Soon, it began to throb inside the maknae. Ryujin’s mind conjured up images of Yuna filled with her baby batter, and her entire body coated in the stuff. It pushed Ryujin over the edge. She pushed the tip of her cock right up against Yuna’s fertile womb and came. The younger woman cried out with pleasure as she felt the thick liquid pour into her. Ryujin was cumming inside her. The sensation made her entire body tingle.
After her session with Hwasa, Ryujin knew she was already too far gone. The older woman had explicitly told her not to get her members addicted to her cock. Well, she had just cum inside Yuna twice. Somewhere in Ryujin’s mind, she knew it would be good to stop now, but every other fiber in her being said to continue, and continue she did. She dragged her cock out of Yuna’s messy cunt, leaving just the head inside before ramming it back in. Small pearls of her cum dripped out of Yuna’s cunt, staining the bed. Ryujin slammed her length inside the younger woman, enjoying every moment her cock was inside her fellow Itzy member. She leaned in, getting by Yuna’s ear. “Your pussy’s so tight, Yuna.” She says with a giggle. “There’s a lot more cum for you. I’m going to cum in you again and again. You’ll be pregnant with my baby when we’re done.”
“I’m going to be a mommy?” Yuna asked, a sly smile on her face as Ryujin continued to pound away at her cunt. “Mmm, make me a mommy.” She moaned, some strength returning to her, enough to push her ass against Ryujin. “Breed me, Unnie. I want you to make me a mommy,” she said, her words slurring as Ryujin’s thrusts brought her to another orgasm. Yuna’s eyes were rolling back as she felt Ryujin’s cock throbbing inside her again, another orgasm coming soon after. The petite woman could feel more of Ryujin’s semen flowing into her. She could almost feel her belly swelling from the amount of cum being pumped into her.
Ryujin was far from done. Now that she had admitted what she wanted to the younger woman, she pulled out and flipped Yuna onto her back. She placed her messy cock on Yuna’s toned stomach. The maknae looked down, staring at the massive piece of flesh. It had been inside her. Her mouth watered. Yuna had already had a taste of Ryujin’s salty cum, but in her mind, this thing would be so much better. Ryujin saw the look in Yuna’s eyes and debated straddling her small chest and prodding her pretty face, dirtying it. She held back, though; there was a greater prize she wanted. The desire to reshape Yuna’s womb for her use only was stronger.
The older woman rubbed her cock against Yuna’s puffy lips, teasing the young woman for just a second before she pressed the head against her gaping entrance. The heat that radiated from Yuna’s cunt was tantalizing. She wanted to drive her cock deep into her warm core again right this instant, but Ryujin somehow managed to hold back. She grabbed the back of the younger woman’s legs, her hands sliding up until she gripped Yuna’s ankles. She spread Yuna’s legs apart and pushed them toward her head, folding the petite woman in half. Ryujin angled herself just right, keeping her head right at her entrance until Yuna’s feet hung by her head. She was drooling over the sight of Yuna’s nubile body. Her saliva dripped onto Yuna. After the first few drops, Yuna opened her mouth. The maknae would gladly accept any part of Ryujin at this point.
“Beg,” Ryujin muttered, using all her willpower to hold back. She wanted nothing more than to breed Yuna, to make Yuna her perfect little sex toy.
“Ryujin-unnie,” Yuna moaned, her light voice layered with lust. “Turn me into your little fleshlight.” It was almost as if Yuna could read Ryujin’s mind. The maknae grabbed at her small chest, kneading the soft mounds as she continued. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore. I’ll be your perfect little fuck doll, use that big fat cock to make me yours.”
With those words, Ryujin couldn’t hold back any longer. She drove her cock back into Yuna. The younger woman cried out, throwing her head back as she felt the massive shaft stretching her once more. When she looked down at her body, she saw her lower half bulging where Ryujin was inside her. She watched the bulge move along her body, and her moans grew louder as a result. The only sound between the two Itzy members was moans as Ryujin slammed her weight down on Yuna’s tiny body, their bodies crashing against each other as Ryujin continually rammed Yuna’s womb, reshaping her insides. Their moans built as they got closer to their next climax. Ryujin buried herself inside the group’s maknae, filling her belly with another heavy load of her semen as she leaned down and captured Yuna’s lips. Yuna’s legs tensed, her world rocked by another intense orgasm. She felt the hot semen pouring into her for a third time. She let Ryujin do as she desired, her body failing to move as the pleasure crashed over her.
While she came, Ryujin continued to move, pushing her cock deeper as she unloaded her baby batter. The older woman was smiling as she sucked on Yuna’s tongue, her maknae completely at her beck and call.
Ryujin slid out of Yuna’s cunt, letting the pearly river flow from between the younger woman’s legs. Ryujin felt proud of her work. She let go of Yuna’s legs and crawled over her body, resting on her chest and planting her cum-coated cock between the small mounds. Ryujin rocked back and forth, coating the younger woman’s chest in her semen before grabbing a handful of Yuna’s hair. The maknae came eye to eye with the thick head of Ryujin’s cock. Her eyes wandered upward to meet her master’s before shifting downward again. Yuna stuck her tongue out, waiting for Ryujin to shove the meaty shaft down her throat.
The older Itzy member smirked. She moved up and grabbed her shaft, slapping Yuna’s face with it. Yuna kept her tongue out, managing a small lick as Ryujin dragged her cock over her face. Once Ryujin felt that Yuna’s face was dirty enough, she pushed the tip into Yuna’s mouth. The younger woman’s tongue swirled along the head, greedily taking every drop of cum she could manage. Ryujin moaned softly, enjoying her toy’s work. She stroked the base of her shaft, letting Yuna work the tip, her small tongue perfect for the job.
Ryujin’s hand quickly became covered in her cum, and knowing that Yuna wouldn’t mind, she brought her dirty hand over the young woman’s face, smearing it on her. Yuna reveled in the feeling of being painted by Ryujin. She was grateful. She hollowed her cheeks as she sucked on the tip harder, wanting to show her appreciation. Ryujin slowly pushed her hips forward, letting Yuna have more of the thick meat in her mouth. The older woman was getting close to cumming again, and she wanted to claim Yuna in another manner, painting the young woman’s body. She let Yuna suck on her cock until she got close to cumming. It was only then that she pulled back, rising onto her feet and standing over Yuna. Ryujin stroked her cock, pointing it right at the maknae. Yuna shut her eyes and stuck her tongue out, waiting for the moment she was bathed in her master’s semen. It was a moment of joy for Yuna; she felt the hot semen splash onto her face first before Ryujin moved lower. The trail of Ryujin’s baby batter moved downward, where she covered Yuna’s tits and toned stomach in the thick liquid. The petite woman reached between her legs, fingering herself as Ryujin continued to paint her body. Yuna was her canvas, and Ryujin made sure that what she painted was beautiful.
Once it was all over, Ryujin stared at Yuna, smiling to herself as she stroked her cock back to full mast. The day was still theirs, and she would make sure to leave Yuna a cumdrunk mess, a perfect toy to use whenever she had her cock, and that’s exactly what happened.
By the end of the day, Yuna’s body had been turned into Ryujin’s perfect sex toy. No hole left untouched, and Yuna covered in cum, the entire room smelling of sweat, sex, and semen. Ryujin felt no shame as her body returned to normal; her desires only grew stronger. She had turned Yuna into her sex toy, made it so the maknae would only be satisfied by her cock. She was lucky no one else was in the dorms for the entire day, no one to bother her during her training. Still, she wanted more. Yuna was nice, but if she had Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeji turned into her little sluts too, that would be all the better. Ryujin rested on her bed, not minding the fact that she was lying in a puddle of her own semen. She’d deal with it later; all that mattered was she had a perfect little sex slave to use. All she had to do was wait a month.
Ryujin’s phone vibrated, attracting her attention as she picked it up. She could read the message that had been sent. “I forgot to mention it, but you don’t have to worry about getting women pregnant. We shoot blanks.” It was a message from Hwasa, and while the information disappointed her, Ryujin did feel a sense of ease. It just meant she could cum inside whoever she wanted to as much as she wanted to.
The contrast in the room is stark. There is Ryujin—an icon, a face known globally, draped in an oversized hoodie—sitting on your worn-out thrift store sofa. And then there is your apartment: a small, one-room studio that smells faintly of the coffee beans from your shift this morning and the laundry you haven't had time to fold.
You set two mugs of steaming tea on the low table, the porcelain chipped at the edges. You remember the Mix Nine days vividly. Back then, you were both just kids in oversized jerseys with dreams that felt identical. You’d share hidden snacks behind the practice room curtains, whispering about the future as if it were a guaranteed destination.
"I saw the charts today," Ryujin says, her voice unusually small. She isn’t looking at you; she’s staring at the steam rising from her mug. "We're not even in the top fifty. A few years ago, we would have been in the top ten within the hour."
You sit beside her, the springs of the couch creaking. You think back to your own debut—the high of finally standing on that stage after seeing her succeed, only to watch your dream crumble into a quiet disbandment three years later. You know the sting of a fading light, but hers is different; it’s the slow, agonizing cooling of a star.
"The industry is a cycle, Ryu," you say softly, reaching out to take her hand. Your skin is a bit rougher now from years of manual labor and service jobs, while hers is still soft, though her fingers are trembling. "You've stayed at the top longer than most people even get to dream of."
"But it feels like I'm losing my identity," she murmurs, finally looking at you. Her eyes, usually so fierce and confident on stage, are swimming with a very human fear. "If I'm not 'Ryujin of ITZY,' the center, the girl crush... who am I? I look at you, and I see how hard you worked to build a life from scratch after the music stopped. I don’t know if I’m as strong as you."
You pull her closer, letting her head rest on your shoulder. You’ve gone from a failed idol to a waiter, to a delivery driver, to a floor manager—you’ve learned that life exists in the quiet moments between the applause.
"You're the girl who shared her chocolate with me in a cold practice room in 2017," you remind her, kissing the top of her head. "That person doesn't need a chart ranking to be real. You're my Ryujin. And if the cameras turned off tomorrow, I’d still be right here in this tiny apartment waiting for you."
She lets out a shaky breath, her hand tightening around yours. "I'm sorry for venting. I know you've had it harder, losing your group so early..."
"Don't be," you interrupt gently. "We've always been in this together, remember? Different paths, same heart."
She looks up at you, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her melancholy. "What would I do without my favorite 'failed' idol turned best-ever boyfriend?"
You let out a soft, dry chuckle, the sound vibrating in the quiet of your cramped studio. The irony isn't lost on you—here is one of the most famous women in the country, seeking solace in a room that costs less than one of her stage outfits.
"Probably crying in your room," you say, your voice teasing but laced with a gentle, grounding warmth. "Surrounded by luxury lamp and pillows, but totally miserable because you didn’t have me here to tell you that you're being a brat."
Ryujin nudges your shoulder with hers, a small huff of a laugh escaping her. The tension that had been keeping her shoulders hunched begins to melt away.
"You're such a jerk," she mutters, though she leans her weight more fully against you. "I come here for sympathy, and you give me a reality check."
"That’s my job," you retort, shifting so you can wrap an arm around her, drawing her into the heat of your side. "Everyone else looks at you and sees a brand or a chart position. I’m the only one left who remembers the girl who used to trip over her own shoelaces in the Mix Nine hallways. To me, you’re just Ryujin. And Ryujin is going to be fine, whether she’s performing for fifty thousand people or just for me in this kitchen."
She quietens, the humor fading into something deeper and more sincere. She looks around your small space—the mismatched furniture, the stack of bills on the counter, the framed photo of the two of you from a hidden park date last year. It’s a humble life, but it’s stable. It’s real.
"You really aren't scared of the silence, are you?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper as she traces the calluses on your palm.
"I survived the end of my world a few years ago," you say simply. "I realized that as long as I have a floor to stand on and you to come over on your days off, the rest is just noise."
Ryujin stays silent for a long moment, her thumb tracing the lines of your palm as if she’s trying to memorize the texture of a life lived outside the spotlight. Your words seem to anchor her, pulling her out of the turbulent 'what-ifs' of the industry and back into the safety of your four walls.
"The end of the world," she repeats softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I remember how devastated you were when the disbandment news hit. I stayed up all night on the phone with you while I was on tour in Japan. I felt so sad that I was playing stadiums while your dream was being packed into cardboard boxes."
"I told you then, and I'll tell you now," you say, tilting your head to catch her eye. "Don't ever feel guilty for outrunning me. Seeing you fly was the only thing that kept me from sinking completely. It gave me a reason to keep working, even if it was just at a convenience store or a cafe."
She shifts, turning her body toward you on the creaky sofa, tucking one leg under her. The oversized hoodie makes her look small, stripping away the 'Center Ryujin' armor until only your girl is left.
"You're the strongest person I know," she whispers, her eyes shining with a mix of admiration and a lingering sadness. "You traded the stage for a 9-to-5 and didn't let it break you. I’m just... I’m scared that if the music stops for me, I won't know how to walk on the ground like you do."
"You won't have to learn alone," you say firmly, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "If the world stops watching, then you just become mine. No schedules, no managers, no fans judging your every move. Just us. We'll go to the movies, eat at those hole-in-the-wall places I like, and you can finally sleep past 6 AM."
She laughs then—a real, bubbly sound that lights up the dim apartment. She leans forward, resting her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your skin. "A life where I’m just your girlfriend? No dances? No makeup? Just boring, everyday Ryujin?"
"Boring Ryujin is my favorite version," you tease, your voice dropping to a low, affectionate hum. "She’s the one who hogs the blankets and steals my fries. I'd take her over the idol any day."
She laughs, a light, genuine sound that finally reaches her eyes. You stand up, the old floorboards groaning under your feet, and offer her a hand.
"Come on," you say, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since you're so worried about the 'end of the world,' let's have a meal. My world-famous, budget-friendly ramyun."
Ryujin rolls her eyes but takes your hand, letting you pull her toward the tiny kitchenette. "You mean the one where you just add an egg and some green onions you stole from the cafe?"
"Hey, it's called elevated dining," you retort, reaching into the cupboard for the familiar red packets.
As you move around the cramped space, Ryujin leans against the counter, watching you with a quiet, focused intensity. You go through the motions—boiling the water in your one good pot, dicing the scallions, and cracking the egg with a practiced flick of the wrist. It’s a rare domestic scene for her, because she was surrounded by managers and cameras almost all the time.
"You know," she says softly, the steam from the pot curling around her face, "Sometimes I dream about this. Not the awards or the tours. Just... a kitchen that’s too small, a cheap meal, and no one waiting for me to be perfect."
"Well, you're in luck," you say, sliding the steaming bowl toward her on the small breakfast bar. "In this apartment, the only thing that has to be perfect is the noodle-to-broth ratio. And even that’s debatable."
You hand her a pair of wooden chopsticks. She takes a bite, closing her eyes as she lets out a long, satisfied sigh. For a few minutes, the charts, the dwindling popularity, and the pressure of the industry fade away, replaced by the simple, salty warmth of the soup and the comfort of your presence.
"It's good," she murmurs, her cheeks flushed from the heat. "Actually, it's better than good. It tastes like... home."
The word hangs in the air, heavy and sweet. To the rest of the world, 'home' for Shin Ryujin is a high-security luxury dorm or a shimmering stage under neon lights. But here, in the dim glow of your cramped kitchen, surrounded by the hum of a refrigerator that’s seen better days, the word finds its real meaning.
You lean against the counter, watching her. The sharp, girl crush edges she maintains for the cameras have completely bled away. Here, she's just a girl in a borrowed hoodie, finding peace in a noodles because of the person who cooked them.
"Home should be simple," you say softly, reaching out to brush a stray droplet of broth from the corner of her lip. "No fine dining, no pressure to perform. Just you, me, and enough salt to make us regret it in the morning."
She chuckles, leaning into your touch for a brief second before focusing back on the bowl. "I mean it. When I'm out there, everything feels like it’s on a timer. The songs, the fame, the youth... it’s all counting down. But when I’m sitting here with you, it feels like the clock just... stops."
She looks up at you, her gaze steady and vulnerable. "Is it selfish? Wanting to keep this little piece of 'normal' all to myself?"
"If it is, then I'm the most selfish guy in Seoul," you reply with a lopsided grin. "Because I have no intention of sharing this version of you with anyone else."
Ryujin ducked her head, trying to hide the blush that deepened on her cheeks, but she couldn't hide the small, triumphant smile tugging at her lips. She set her chopsticks down and reached across the narrow counter, sliding her hand into yours. Her skin was warm, and for the first time tonight, her grip felt steady.
"The most selfish guy in Seoul," she echoed, her voice dropping into that low, raspy tone that always made your heart skip a beat. "I think I can live with that. Especially if he keeps making me ramyun."
She stood up, the oversized sleeves of her hoodie swallowing her hands as she walked around the small breakfast bar to stand directly in front of you. In the cramped space of the kitchen, she was forced to step close—so close that you could smell the faint scent of her perfume mixed with the spicy aroma of the soup. She looked up at you, her eyes searching yours with a newfound clarity.
"You know," she whispered, "When I was a trainee, I used to think the 'end' would be the scariest thing in the world. I watched you go through it, and I was terrified for you. But seeing you now... seeing how you’ve built this life, how you look at me without seeing a 'star'..."
She trailed off, resting her palms against your chest. You could feel the steady rhythm of her heart through the fabric of your shirt.
"It makes me realize that the 'end' is just a doorway," she continued. "Maybe ITZY's time will pass, and maybe the charts will keep dropping. But as long as this—this kitchen, this feeling—is what’s waiting on the other side, then I’m not scared anymore."
You reached up, cupping her face in your hands. Her skin felt like silk under your calloused thumbs. "I'll be waiting at that doorway, Ryu. Whether it's next year or ten years from now. I’m not going anywhere."
"Good," she breathed, rising on her tiptoes. "Because I don't think I'd know which way to walk if you weren't there to lead the way."
You lean in, closing the small gap between you, and press your lips to hers. It’s not the frantic, desperate kiss of a movie scene; it’s slow, steady, and tastes faintly of the spicy ramyun and the comfort of a long-held promise. It’s a kiss that carries the weight of every phone call from your 3 a.m. shifts, every hidden date in the park, and every year you spent cheering for her from the sidelines of a world you used to belong to.
Ryujin sighs into the kiss, her hands sliding up from your chest to wrap around your neck, pulling you even closer. She kisses you back with a soft, hungry sincerity, as if she’s trying to breathe in the normalcy you provide.
When you finally pull back just an inch, your foreheads remain pressed together. Her eyes are still closed, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
"I needed that," she whispers, her voice a little breathless and much lighter than when she first walked through your door. "More than the food. More than the vent."
"I know," you murmur, your thumbs tracing the line of her jaw. "The world is loud, Ryu. But here, it’s just us. You don’t have to be 'the center' in this room. You just have to be mine."
She opens her eyes, and the spark is back—that sharp, mischievous Ryujin glint that the public loves, but softened by the love she only shows to you. "I think I can manage that. In fact, I think I’m overqualified for the position."
You lets out a tiny laugh and wrap your arms around her, pulling her in so tightly that there’s no space left between you. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling that familiar, comforting scent—a mix of her expensive floral perfume and the faint, clean smell of fabric softener. It’s a scent that has anchored you through the hardest years of your life, the one thing that never changed even when your career did.
"You have no idea how much I missed this," you mutter into her skin, your voice muffled and thick with affection.
But the heavy, emotional atmosphere shifts the moment you feel a soft, playful huff of air against your collarbone. Ryujin isn't content with just a sentimental hug anymore. Her hands, previously resting on your neck, slide down again to your chest, and she begins to pepper your neck with light, teasing kisses.
"Ryu..." you warn with a low, shaky laugh, but she doesn't stop.
She moves with a feline grace, her lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your jawline. Each kiss is light as a feather, but they leave a trail of fire in their wake. She’s leaning into you, her body molding against yours, using her height advantage on her tiptoes to find the exact spots that make your breath hitch.
"What?" she murmurs against your skin, her voice vibrating with a sudden, naughty playfulness. "You said I don't have to be an idol here. This is me being 'just your girlfriend.' And your girlfriend has been thinking about doing this all through her four-hour dance practice today."
She nips gently at the cord of your neck, a bold move that sends a jolt of electricity straight down your spine. She’s reclaiming the room, turning your quiet sanctuary into something much more charged.
"You're being a menace," you groan, though your hands held tight her waist to keep her exactly where she is.
"I'm being a 'boring' girlfriend, remember?" she teases, pulling back just enough to look at you with hooded, mischievous eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. "Is it working? Is your world still quiet, or is it getting a little loud in here?"
You don’t say a word. The teasing glint in her eyes is all the invitation you need. Instead of answering her playful taunts, you reach down and catch her hand, your fingers locking firmly with hers.
The sudden shift in your energy catches her off guard. Ryujin’s smirk falters for a split second, replaced by a sharp, shaky intake of breath as you begin to lead her out of the narrow kitchen. You guide her past the creaky sofa, moving toward the small bedroom that offers even more privacy than the apartement's main room.
"Oh," she breathes, her heels clicking softly on the floorboards as she follows your lead. "So that’s how it is? No more talking?"
You pull her through the doorway, the dim light from the streetlamp outside filtering through the blinds. You turn back to her, finally breaking your silence as you draw her into the small space between the bed and the wall.
"You've had your ramyun, and you've had your vent," you say, your voice dropping to a low, commanding register. "The 'rest' portion of the evening is officially over, Ryu."
She backs up until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, but she doesn't look intimidated. If anything, the challenge in your eyes lights a fire in hers. She reaches up, slowly pulling the hood of her oversized hoodie off her head, letting her hair fall messily around her shoulders.
"Finally," she whispers, a defiant, hungry smile returning to her face. "I was wondering when you were going to stop being so polite."
Beneath the hoodie, she isn't wearing a shirt or a restrictive stage outfit. She’s wearing a simple, sporty black lace bra that contrasts sharply against her pale, creamy skin. The thin straps frame her toned shoulders—the same shoulders that have danced through countless concerts. The lace cups strain slightly against the soft curve of her breasts, rising and falling rapidly as her breathing turns shallow. Seeing Ryujin like this, stripped of her 'idol' armor and standing in your bedroom in nothing but her bra and jeans, makes the reality of your relationship hit harder than ever.
She falls back onto the bed, the mattress sighing under her weight. She arches her back slightly, the movement making her breasts swell over the edges of the lace, and reaches her arms up for you.
Seeing her lies there, arched and expectant, you move like a predator, lunging over her and pinning her wrists above her head. The bed springs groan under your weight, and the suddenness of the movement draws a sharp, delighted gasp from her lips.
"I’m done being polite, Ryu," you growl, looming over her. Your chest is inches from hers, the heat radiating off her bare skin making your head swim. "You wanted to see the version of me that isn't just a 'nice guy'? Here he is."
Ryujin’s eyes blow wide, her pupils dilating until they're nearly black in the dim light of the room. Being pinned down by you—the one person who truly knows her—clearly ignites something primal. She tries to flex her arms, testing your grip, but you hold her firm, your fingers digging into the soft fabric of the pillowcase.
"Show me then," she challenges, her voice a shaky, defiant whisper. She’s breathing heavily now, her chest rising and falling so rapidly that the black lace of her bra strains against her skin, the scalloped edges of the cups cutting into the soft swell of her breasts. "Show me what you’ve been holding back while I was away on schedules."
You lean down, your nose brushing against hers, letting her feel the heat of your breath. You can see the pulse jumping in her neck, a frantic rhythm that matches your own.
"Everything," you mutter, shifting your weight so your thigh presses firmly between her legs, feeling the friction of her jeans against yours. "I've been holding back everything."
She lets out a low, needy moan, her head thrashing back against the bed as she realizes you aren't playing anymore. The idol, the center, the girl crush—they’re all gone. There’s only your girl, trapped beneath you in a small apartment, finally getting exactly what she wanted.
You lower your head, burying your face in the heated curve of her neck. You don't hold back, pressing your lips firmly against her skin, right where her pulse is thrumming like a trapped bird. You find that sweet spot just below her ear and let your teeth graze her skin before sucking a dark, heavy mark into her collarbone.
Ryujin lets out a sharp, choked cry, her back arching off the mattress. "Oh god... No... people are going to see..."
"Let them," you growl against her skin, your voice muffled and dark. "Let your stylists worry about it tomorrow. Tonight, I want everyone to know exactly who you spent your night with."
The thought of the perfect idol having to hide your marks under layers of concealer only fuels your fire. You move to the other side of her neck, ignoring her half-hearted protests that sound more like pleas. She’s squirming beneath you, her pinned wrists straining against your grip, but she isn't trying to get away—she’s trying to get closer, her hips bucking upward to meet yours.
"You're... you're so mean," she gasps, her voice breaking as you bite down gently on the sensitive tendon of her shoulder. Her breath is coming in ragged, uneven hitches, and you can feel the heat of her blush spreading all the way down to her chest.
"I'm just being selfish, Ryu," you remind her, pulling back just enough to look at the dark red mark blooming on her pale skin. "Like I said I would be."
She looks up at you, her eyes dazed and shimmering with a mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated want. She looks completely branded, her composure shattered.
You keep her wrists pinned firmly against the pillow, relishing the way she struggles beneath you—not to escape, but to find some kind of release for the tension coiling between you. Her skin is flushed a deep, beautiful pink, and the marks you've left on her neck stand out like badges of your possession.
"Please..." she whimpers, her voice trembling. "Don't stop."
"I'm just getting started," you murmur.
You shift your focus, trailing slow, wet kisses down the column of her throat. You linger at the hollow of her neck, feeling the frantic vibration of her vocal cords as she moans. Your lips travel further down, crossing onto the smooth expanse of her chest, moving toward the dark lace that’s contain her small yet firm breasts.
Ryujin’s breath catches as she feels your tongue trace the scalloped edge of the black bra. You graze the upper curve of her breast, the heat of your mouth contrasting with the cool air of the room. She’s panting now, her chest heaving so violently that the lace rubs rhythmically against her sensitive nipples, making her toes curl against the sheets.
"You're driving me crazy," she gasps, her head tossing from side to side. "I can't... I need to touch you..."
"Not yet," you whisper against the soft skin just above her heart.
You use your teeth to catch the center of the bra, tugging gently at the fabric. The tension is unbearable. You can feel her heart hammering against your ribs, and the scent of her arousal is beginning to fill your senses, mixing with the lingering smell of the ramyun from the kitchen. You move your mouth to the very edge of the cup, your lips brushing the dark, darkened peak that’s visible through the thin lace.
She lets out a high, shattered sound, her entire body shuddering as you finally close your mouth over the lace, sucking the fabric and the sensitive bud beneath it deep into your mouth.
The sensation of the wet lace against her skin, combined with the suction of your mouth, sends Ryujin into an absolute frenzy. Her hips jerk upward instinctively, seeking a friction that the heavy denim of her jeans won't yet allow. The sound she makes is raw—a desperate, broken melody that belongs only to you, far removed from the polished vocals of her studio recordings.
"Yes.. please... right there..." she whimpers, her head thrashing as you swirl your tongue over the damp fabric.
You don't stop there. You shift your weight, using your chest to keep her pinned while you move your mouth to the other side. You tease the second peak through the black lace, grazing it with your teeth until she’s sobbing your name. The scent of her—sweet, musk, and pure desire—is intoxicating in the small, dark room.
You finally release her wrists, but she doesn't use her freedom to push you away. Instead, her hands find your hair, her fingers clenching and pulling you closer, forcing your face harder against her chest. She's completely lost to the sensation, her body vibrating with every breath you take against her skin.
"I can't... I can't take this," she gasps, her voice cracking. "I want to feel you. No more clothes... please."
You lift your head just enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen from your earlier kisses, her hair is a mess across your bed, and her eyes are glazed with a feverish need. The black bra is soaked and ruined, barely clinging to her curves.
You reach back and find the clasp of the black lace bra. With a practiced flick of your fingers, the tension snaps, and the garment falls away. You don't just set it aside; you snatch the expensive lace and toss it blindly across the room, watching it disappear into the shadows of your small apartment.
Now, there is nothing left between your gaze and her bare skin.
Ryujin lets out a long, shaky breath as her breasts settle, fully freed. In the dim light, she looks like a masterpiece—the sharp lines of her dancer’s ribs giving way to the soft, pale curves you’ve been missing since the last time you had her a few weeks ago. Without the bra, the marks you left on her collarbone look even more striking, a dark contrast against her skin.
"There," you whisper, your voice thick and heavy. "No more barriers."
Her hands moved from your hair. She reaches down, her palms flat against your chest, feeling the frantic thudding of your heart through your shirt. She looks up at you, her eyes hooded and dark with a hunger that has been building for years.
"Finally," she breathes, her voice a low, raspy velvet. "I'm so tired of being 'ITZY’s Ryujin.' I just want to be yours."
She pulls you down again by the shirt, but this time she doesn't wait for you to take the lead. She arches her back, pressing her bare chest firmly against your shirt, the friction of the fabric against her sensitive nipples making her let out a sharp, jagged moan. She’s seeking you out, her mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes of desperation and relief.
The kiss was wild and full of hunger as if you want to devouring each other mouths. And after a few minutes of frantic kissing, you break the kiss. You sit back on your heels, your eyes never leaving hers. You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head in one swift motion, discarding it onto the floor next to her hoodie (or your hoodie to be exact).
When you lean back down, the contact is electric. Ryujin lets out a soft, shuddering gasp as her bare breasts finally press against your warm, solid chest. The sensation of skin-on-skin—without the scratchy lace or the barrier of your shirt—is a revelation. You’re both radiating heat now, your hearts beating a frantic, synchronized rhythm where your chests meet.
"You're so warm," she whimpers, her hands sliding up your back, her fingernails tracing the muscles of your shoulders and digging in slightly. She pulls you down harder, as if she’s trying to merge her body with yours, her legs tangling with yours beneath the weight of her denim.
You can feel her nipples, hard and sensitive, rubbing against your skin with every shallow breath she takes. The friction is driving you both toward the edge. You bury your face in the crook of her neck again, trailing kisses down to the valley between her breasts, tasting the salt and the sweetness of her skin.
"I've waited so long to feel you like this again," you mutter against her skin, your voice vibrating through her. "You're so busy with schedules... it was killing me."
Ryujin’s grip on your back tightens, her breath hitching at the confession. She tilts her head back, exposing her throat to you, her eyes closed in pure, unadulterated bliss. She’s no longer the idol on a pedestal; she’s the girl who stayed by your side when your world fell apart, and right now, she’s completely yours.
Your hand slides down from her waist, your fingers hooking under the firm denim of her waistband. Ryujin’s hips immediately arch off the bed to give you better access, a soft, broken whimper escaping her lips as she feels your palm press against her stomach.
You find the button of her jeans and pop it open with a sharp clack that sounds like a gunshot in the quiet room. As you slowly pull the zipper down, the sound of the teeth parting seems to heighten the tension to a breaking point. You slide your hand inside, moving past the silk of her underwear until your fingers finally brush against her heat.
Ryujin’s reaction is instantaneous. Her eyes fly open, glazing over as she lets out a high, keening moan that she buries in your shoulder. She’s soaking—completely, devastatingly ready for you—her body trembling under your touch.
"You're so wet for me, Ryu," you whisper darkly into her ear, your fingers beginning a slow, rhythmic glide that makes her legs kick out instinctively.
"Because of you," she gasps, her voice trembling and raw. She’s panting now, her head thrashing back against the pillow as you find the sensitive center of her pleasure. "I don’t want... anyone else... ever."
She clenches around your fingers, her muscles pulsing in a frantic rhythm as she nears the edge. The world she was so worried about doesn't exist anymore; there is only the sensation of your hand, the weight of your body, and the overwhelming reality that she is finally, completely home.
But you don't let her linger in that state for a second longer. You pull back just enough to hook your thumbs into the waistband of her denim, and with a firm, decisive tug, you slide her jeans down over her slender hips and off her legs, tossing them to the heap of discarded clothes on the floor.
Following her, you quickly strip out of pants and your boxers, feeling your length spring free, heavy and pulsing with a need that has been building for weeks. You reach down and hook your fingers into the thin, black lace of her underwear, sliding the final barrier down her long, toned legs until she is completely bare beneath you.
Now, Ryujin lies before you in all her natural beauty—trembling, exposed, and radiating a heat that fills the small space between you. Your eyes roam over her, taking in the sight of her soft, neatly groomed pussy, already glistening and swollen from the attention you’ve given her. The sight of her wetness, clear and shimmering against her pale inner thighs, makes your cock throb painfully as it stands tall and rigid, aching to be inside her.
"Stay right there," you murmur, your voice thick with a hunger you can no longer contain.
As you settle back onto the bed and move between her legs, the skin-to-skin contact is a shock to the system. The tip of your cock brushes against her sensitive entrance, and Ryujin lets out a low, needy sound, her hips tilting upward instinctively to find you. She’s incredibly hot and slick, her body opening up for you as if she were made to hold exactly this much of you.
"Look at me, Ryu," you whisper, cupping her face and forcing her to meet your gaze.
She looks up, her expression a beautiful, messy blur of vulnerability and fierce desire. There’s no idol mask left, only the girl who chose you over the comfort of her own world.
"I've got you," you promise, your voice steady despite the way your heart is hammering. "It's just us."
As you slowly, carefully begin to sink yourself into her, the tight, velvet heat of her pussy gripping you firmly, Ryujin’s fingers dig into the muscles of your arms. Her head falls back as she lets out a long, shattered breath, her body stretching and molding to yours as you finally, truly, become one.
The sensation is overwhelming. As you bottom out inside her, the friction of your skin meeting hers feels like a circuit finally closing. Ryujin’s internal muscles clench around you in a series of desperate, pulsing tremors, her body adjusting to your size as she takes all of you in. She lets out a jagged, high-pitched moan that is quickly swallowed by the shadows of the room, her eyes rolling back for a brief second in pure, sensory overload.
"You're so... you're so big," she gasps, her voice barely a whisper, strained and breathless. She wraps her legs tightly around your waist, her heels digging into your lower back to pull you even closer, wanting to erase every millimeter of air between you.
You stay still for a heartbeat, buried deep within her wet, clinging heat, letting the sheer reality of the moment sink in. You can feel her heart thudding against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matches the pulse of your cock inside her. She feels like velvet and fire, her pussy slicking your length and drawing you in further with every ragged breath she takes.
"Ryu..." you groan, your forehead dropping against hers as you begin to pull back, only to slide back in with a slow, heavy thrust.
The sound that rips from her throat is raw and unpolished—the sound of a woman who has forgotten the entire world exists outside of this bed. Her hands migrate from your arms to your hair, her fingers tugging at the strands as she meets your rhythm with a desperate hunger. Every time you push forward, you feel the way she stretches for you, her wetness making each slide a smooth, heated friction that threatens to snap your control.
"Don't... don't be gentle," she pleads, her hips bucking upward to meet your next downstroke. "I want to feel everything. Make me forget... make me forget it all."
The moment she pleads for more, any lingering restraint you had snaps. You shift your grip, pinning her hands above her head again, but this time it’s not for play—it’s to anchor her as you begin to drive into her with a hard, relentless rhythm.
The slow, romantic connection shifts into something primal and desperate. The sound of your bodies colliding—a wet, rhythmic slapping—echoes through the small, quiet bedroom. Ryujin’s breath is forced out of her in sharp, rhythmic hitches with every heavy thrust. She’s no longer the composed, cool center of ITZY; she’s a woman losing her mind in your arms, her toes curling and her back is arching on the bed
"Is this... what you wanted?" you grunt, your voice thick and strained as you bottom out against her again and again.
"Yes! Please... more!" she cries out, her voice breaking. She’s completely unraveled, her face a mask of pure, agonizing pleasure. Her inner muscles are squeezing you so tightly it feels like she’s trying to pull your very soul into her.
You can feel the friction building, the heat between your thighs becoming almost unbearable as her slickness coats your entire length. Every time you drive forward, you hit that sensitive spot deep inside her, sending her into a fresh wave of tremors. Her head thrashes from side to side on the pillow, her sweat-dampened hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks.
"You're mine," you growl, leaning down to bite her shoulder as you pick up the pace even more, your movements becoming a blur of friction and heat. "In this room, you're only mine."
"Yours... only yours..." she whimpers, her voice trailing off into a high-pitched keen as she nears the edge. Her internal walls begin to pulse rhythmically around you, a sign that she’s seconds away from shattering.
You can feel Ryujin's body tightening, her entire frame vibrating with the force of the climax building within her. You don't slow down; instead, you drive even harder, your thrusts becoming short and powerful, ensuring she has no choice but to let go.
"That's it, Ryu... give it to me," you command, your voice a dark, guttural rasp.
She lets out a shattered, breathless cry as she finally breaks. Her eyes blow wide and then flutter shut as her climax hits her like a tidal wave. She arches her back one last time, you let go of her wrists and her fingers immediately finding their ways, digging painfully into your forearms. Her internal muscles clench around you in a long, staggering series of contractions. She’s sobbing your name now, the sound muffled against your neck as she spills over the edge, her heat flooding you as she shakes uncontrollably.
Despite the intense, rhythmic clenching of her body around you, you grind your teeth and hold back, forcing yourself to stay steady while she shatters. You want to feel every single vibration of her release, to witness the moment the world-famous Shin Ryujin completely loses herself to the pleasure only you can give her.
As her body finally begins to go limp, her muscles still twitching with the aftershocks of her climax, you don't stop. You keep your weight heavy on her, but you slow the pace down to a punishing, agonizingly deep crawl. You pull nearly all the way out, feeling the slick, hot suction of her pussy clinging to your head, before sliding back in until you hit the very back of her.
"I’m not done with you yet," you murmur against her damp skin, your voice dark and filled with a lingering hunger.
Ryujin lets out a weak, dazed moan, her eyes barely opening as she looks up at you through a haze of bliss. She’s completely spent, her skin glowing with sweat and the flush of her orgasm, but the sight of you still looming over her, your eyes burning with a heat that hasn't faded, makes her breath hitch all over again.
"You're... you're still so hard," she whispers, her hand reaching down between your bodies to feel the thick, pulsing vein along your length. "I thought... I thought you were coming with me."
"I wanted to see you break first," you hook your arms under her armpits, hauling her up from the mattress. Ryujin gasps, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist as you sit back on the bed, bringing her flush against your chest. The transition is seamless; you never slip out, and the change in angle sends a fresh jolt through both of you as you bottom out even deeper.
"There," you groan, your hands settling firmly on her hips. "Look at me, Ryu."
She’s breathless, her breasts heaving against your bare chest, her hair a wild halo around her flushed face. She grips your shoulders for balance, her eyes fluttering open—they are dark, unfocused, and shimmering with a mixture of love and raw lust. She looks down at where your bodies are joined, watching the way your cock buried deep inside her clenching heat, and then she begins to move.
Ryujin sets the pace, lifting herself up and sliding back down your length with an agonizingly slow, grinding motion. She’s using her dancer's strength, her core tight as she rolls her hips, making sure she feels every inch of you.
"You... you're doing this on purpose," she whimpers, her head dropping onto your shoulder as she picks up the tempo. "You're trying to make me... go again."
"Maybe I am," you whisper into her ear, your hands digging into her soft skin to guide her rhythm.
You’re close—the friction of her tight, wet heat is testing the very limits of your resolve—but you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to stay steady. You want to see her eyes go wide one more time; you want to feel her shatter against you while you're looking right at her. You reach up, one hand cupping her jaw to tilt her face toward yours, while the other thumb finds her clitoris, adding a sharp, electric pressure to her rhythmic grinds.
"Don't hold back, Ryujin," you command. "Ride me until you can't breathe."
Ryujin doesn’t need to be told twice. She lets out a low, guttural growl that sounds more like a challenge than a whimper. Grabbing your shoulders for leverage, she begins to move with a frantic, desperate intensity. She’s no longer just sliding; she’s slamming herself down onto you, her hips moving in a way that makes your vision blur.
The wet, rhythmic sound of your bodies meeting fills the small room, drowning out the distant hum of the city. Every time she descends, your length buries itself to the hilt, and you can feel the precise moment her internal walls clench around you in a dazed, reflexive rhythm.
"I going to... Oh god... I'm going to—!" She breaks off into a jagged, high-pitched cry, her head thrashing back.
Her core is a furnace, tighter and slicker than before, as she nears her second peak. You watch her face—the way her brows furrow in pleasure, the way her lips part to let out those raw, unedited sounds. You keep your thumb moving against her, fueling the fire until she’s literally vibrating in your arms.
"Go on then," you strain out, your own voice sounding like gravel. "Break for me again."
With one final, violent slam of her hips, she hits the point of no return. Ryujin's entire body stiffens, her fingers digging so hard into your shoulders that they’ll surely leave marks, and she screams your name into the quiet apartment. Her pussy pulses around you in frantic, rhythmic waves, milk-warm and incredibly tight, as a second, even more powerful climax rolls through her. She collapses against your chest, her heart hammering like a drum against your ribs, her breath coming in short, sob-like gasps.
You’re right there—right on the edge, pulsing and heavy, your body screaming for the same release. But you hold it.
"Not yet," you growl into her ear, the heat of your breath making her shiver even as she’s limp with exhaustion. "I told you, Ryu. I'm being selfish tonight."
Before she can even process the words, you shift your weight, easing her off your lap but refusing to let her go. You flip her over onto her hands and knees in the center of the bed, her body still trembling and slick with sweat. The marks you left on her neck and shoulders are vivid in the dim light, and as she arches her back instinctively, she looks like a hauntingly beautiful vision of total surrender.
You move behind her, your knees digging into the mattress as you grip her hips. Without a second of hesitation, you drive back into her from behind. The new angle allows you to go even deeper, hitting her with a blunt, heavy force that draws a sharp, surprised sob from her throat.
"Oh yes..." she moans, her head dropping as she tries to find her rhythm again.
You don't give her a rhythm; you give her power. You drive into Ryujin with a relentless, primal energy, your hands leaving dark thumbprints on her hips as you pull her back to meet every thrust. The sound of the impact is loud and wet, a raw testament to how much she’s opened up for you.
You watch the way her ass ripples with every movement, the way her hair swings as she gasps for air. The visual is intoxicating—the sight of her pale, rounded ass shaking with the force of every heavy, lunging thrust you drive into her. Each time you bottom out, your pelvis slaps against her with a wet, echoing crack that seems to vibrate through the floorboards. Ryujin is a mess of beautiful contradictions: the fierce, untouchable idol reduced to a desperate, panting girl who can’t stop begging for the very thing that’s breaking her.
"I can't... I'm going to... again!" she screams, her voice cracking as her forehead presses into the mattress.
You reach down, sliding your hand underneath her stomach to pull her hips even higher, angling her body so you can drive upward, hitting her deepest, most sensitive spot with brutal precision. Your cock is gorged to its absolute limit, the velvet heat of her pussy gripping you so fiercely it’s nearly painful. The friction is blinding now, a searing heat that threatens to turn everything to ash.
"Stay with me, Ryu," you groan, your muscles locking as the wave of your climax begins to roar up your spine.
You can feel the exact moment her body gives up. Her internal walls begin to spasm in violent, rhythmic contractions, milking you with a desperate intensity that shatters your final bit of control. Her back arches into a bow, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she falls into a third, devastating orgasm.
The sensation of her clenching around you is too much. You let out a raw, primal roar, your hips snapping forward in one final, bone-deep surge. You bury yourself to the very root, your pulse exploding inside her as you release weeks of bottled-up desire in heavy, scalding pulses that fill her to the brim.
You stay locked deep inside her, your body rigid as the final pulses of your release ebb into her. Ryujin is trembling violently beneath you, her forehead pressed into the bed, her breath coming in long, broken sobs of pure relief. The air in the room is thick, heavy with the scent of sex and the cooling sweat on your skin, but neither of you moves. You feel every throb of her heart echoing against your own.
Gradually, the tension leaves your muscles, and you sink down, pulling her back against your chest as you roll onto your side. You don't pull out; you stay joined, wanting to prolong the feeling of being one for as long as possible. Her skin is slick and hot against yours, and as she settles back into your body, she lets out a soft, shaky sigh that hitches in her throat.
"You're still shaking," you whisper, your voice a low rumble against the back of her neck. You press a tender kiss to the spot where your teeth had marked her earlier.
"I needed that so much," Ryujin breathes, her voice small and raw. She reaches back, her fingers finding your hand and interlacing them over her stomach, holding onto you like a lifeline. "Now all my worries are gone."
You tighten your grip on her, pulling her even closer until there isn't a single inch of space between you. The silence of the apartment is a stark contrast to the chaos of the night, but for the first time in years, the quiet doesn't feel lonely. It feels like a shield, protecting the two of you from the world waiting outside the door.
"You don't have to be worry anymore," you mutter, closing your eyes and breathing her in. "Because no matter what happens, I'm here for you."
Ryujin turns slightly in your arms, looking back at you with eyes that are finally clear, filled with a soft, glowing affection that no camera has ever captured.
"Good," she whispers, pulling your face down for one last, slow, lingering kiss that tastes like a promise. "Because I don't think I could survive it without you."
You smiles and tighten your hold on her, a silent vow passing between you in the stillness. The 'real world' is just a few hours away, lurking behind the sunrise, but for now, the air is still and the bed is warm. You watch the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders until her breathing finally evens out into the deep, peaceful slumber of someone who has finally found where they belong.
As the heavy pull of exhaustion finally wins, you finally close your eyes, burying your face in the scent of her hair. There are no more stages to perform on, no more secrets to keep, and no more distance to bridge. There is only the quiet rhythm of two hearts beating in sync and the long-awaited peace of a night where nobody has to say goodbye.
With a final, contented sigh, you let the darkness take you, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep with Ryujin held tight against your heart.
