Caught in the Act

The only sound in Jisoo’s penthouse was the ragged pull of her own breathing and the low, obscene hum of the vibrator she held like a weapon. The Seoul night outside was a sea of neon, but in here, the only light came from the massive television screen, painting her sweat-slicked skin in shifting shades of blue and pink. On the screen, two women were lost in each other, their bodies moving with a liquid grace that felt both alien and deeply familiar to Jisoo’s own aching flesh.

Three weeks. For twenty-one days, a constant, low-grade fever had burned under her skin, a maddening itch she couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t just horniness; it was a profound, systemic failure of her own body to find release. Her own fingers, once reliable allies in the dark of night, had become clumsy strangers. The collection of toys she’d amassed—some gag gifts from Lisa, one a terrifyingly clinical-looking black wand from a fan’s gift basket—had all proven useless. They were just tools, plastic and silicon, and they lacked the one thing she so desperately needed: intent.

Her mind, a treacherous thing, kept circling back to the root of the problem. Ahn Bo Hyun. The memory wasn't even sad anymore, just pathetically funny. She could still picture it perfectly: the grand reveal of his sculpted, Adonis-like physique, the confident smirk on his face, and then… the reveal of his cock. It was like finding a single, sad raisin in a perfectly baked loaf of bread. A tragic, miniature appendage that looked comically lost beneath the hard planes of his stomach. She’d almost laughed, a hysterical bubble of hysteria rising in her throat, but she’d choked it down. She wasn't a size queen, not like Jennie who was famously unimpressed by anything under eight inches. Jisoo could work with tools of any size, so long as the wielder knew what they were doing.

But he didn't. His ten seconds of frantic, aimless humping had been the sexual equivalent of a child trying to assemble IKEA furniture with a rubber hammer. He’d grunted, shuddered, and rolled over, leaving her staring at the ceiling, the fire inside her raging hotter than ever, fueled by sheer insult. She’d broken up with him the next day, citing “scheduling conflicts.” The real conflict was between her expectations and his disappointing reality.

Now, that single, disastrous encounter had poisoned the well. Every time she closed her eyes, every time her body started to climb that peak, his face would flash in her mind, or the feeling of that pathetic little dick trying to find its mark. The pleasure would curdle, vanishing like smoke, leaving her more frustrated than before. She was a ship with a torn sail, stuck in a windless ocean of her own lust.

Tonight was her last-ditch effort. The straight porn had been a bust, a parade of grunting men and fake orgasms that just made her angry. So she’d switched to this. Sapphic porn. And it was working. Sort of. The sight of a woman’s head buried between another’s thighs, the sounds of wet, hungry licking, the sight of a back arching in genuine, unscripted pleasure—it was a language her body understood. It was making her wet, soaking through the lace of her panties, a slick heat that promised everything.

The black wand vibrator in her hand buzzed with a deep, powerful thrum. She’d shed her camisole and panties an hour ago, lying naked and exposed on the cool leather of her couch. She trailed the toy over her stomach, the vibrations making her muscles clench. Her nipples were hard, tight points that ached for a touch she couldn’t seem to give herself.

“Come on,” she muttered to the empty room, her voice hoarse. “Just fucking work.”

She pressed the head of the wand against her swollen clit. A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through her. Her hips rolled, grinding against the relentless buzzing. The pressure started to build, that familiar, terrifying coil in her stomach. Yes. This was it. This time it was really going to happen. The woman on the screen was crying out, her body convulsing, and Jisoo felt her own body echoing the response. Her thighs began to tremble. Her breath hitched in short, sharp gasps. So close. She was right there, balanced on the knife’s edge of oblivion.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her entire world shrinking to the buzzing, the building pressure, the fantasy in her head of a mouth, a tongue, anything that wasn't this frustrating piece of plastic. The coil tightened, pulling her insides into a single, screaming point of need.

Click.

The sound of her front door lock disengaging was a splash of ice water on her soul.

Her eyes flew open. Panic, cold and absolute, seized her. The TV was still blaring, the vibrator was still buzzing against her cunt, and she was spread-eagled and naked on her living room couch.

“Jisoo-yah? You home?” Seulgi’s voice, cheerful and oblivious, drifted from the entryway. “I know you said you’d be late, but I brought wine and that greasy fried chicken you love, so I’m just gonna let myself in and wait for—”

Seulgi’s voice cut off. Jisoo could feel her presence from the doorway, could imagine her eyes taking in the whole sordid tableau: the porn, the naked best friend, the buzzing sex toy. A wave of mortification so intense it made her dizzy washed over her. She fumbled for the remote, her sweaty fingers slipping on the buttons. She finally stabbed the power button, plunging the room into a sudden, thick silence broken only by the relentless hum of the vibrator she was still clutching.

There was a beat of silence. Then, Seulgi’s voice, laced with an unholy glee, cut through the darkness. “Well, well, well. Looks like the nation’s princess is getting down and dirty with her subjects.”

Jisoo scrambled for a throw pillow, pressing it to her lap in a gesture that was both futile and utterly humiliating. “Seulgi! Oh my god, what are you doing here? I forgot!”

Seulgi stepped into the living room, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. A slow, predatory grin spread across her face. “Clearly,” she said, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement. Her gaze swept over Jisoo’s disheveled state, the pillow, and finally landed on the black vibrator still buzzing in her hand. “And it looks like you’re using a much more impressive model than Lisa’s sparkly unicorn dick.”

Jisoo’s face felt like it was melting. “I was just… experimenting.”

“Experimenting?” Seulgi pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room. “Jichu, you had your legs so wide I was worried you were going to pull a hamstring. You were so close to coming I could feel it from the hallway. I don’t think that’s experimenting. I think that’s a cry for help.”

She stopped in front of the couch, her grin softening into something more assessing, more predatory. She looked from Jisoo’s flushed, panicked face down to the pillow in her lap.

“You've been single for too long, Jisoo,” Seulgi said, her voice dropping to a low, husky murmur. “And now this? Trying to fuck yourself into a coma with a piece of plastic?”

Jisoo’s bravado crumbled. The shame was too much, the frustration too deep. Tears of exhaustion and humiliation pricked at her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered, the words feeling like a defeat. “No matter what I do, I can’t come. It’s like my body is broken.”

Seulgi’s expression softened, but the fire in her eyes didn’t go out. It just burned hotter. She knelt on the couch in front of Jisoo, close enough that Jisoo could feel the warmth radiating from her body. She reached out, her fingers gently tucking a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind Jisoo’s ear. The touch was electric, a spark that shot straight to the aching core of her.

“Oh, Jichu,” Seulgi murmured, her voice a velvet purr that vibrated through Jisoo’s entire body. “You’re not broken. You’re just a complex machine, and you’ve been trying to operate yourself with the wrong instruction manual.”

The air in the room shifted, charged with a new and dangerous energy. Seulgi’s touch was no longer just comforting; it was possessive. Her thumb stroked the skin just below Jisoo’s ear, tracing the frantic beat of her pulse. Every nerve in Jisoo’s body was suddenly awake, screaming for a contact she was both terrified of and desperate for.

“What… what are you talking about?” Jisoo’s voice was a thin, shaky thread.

Seulgi’s lips curved into a smile that was all slow heat and confidence. “I’m talking,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “about taking over. You’ve been trying to brute-force your way to an orgasm. It doesn’t work like that. Not for a woman like you.” Her other hand came up to rest on Jisoo’s knee, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the sensitive skin there. “You need finesse. You need patience. You need someone who knows how to read your body, who knows when to push and when to back off. Someone who can make you beg for it before they even let you touch yourself.”

Jisoo’s breath hitched. Her mind was a chaotic mess of alarm and pure, unadulterated lust. This was Seulgi. Her best friend. The woman she’d cried with after bad breakups and laughed with over cheap beer. But the way she was looking at her now… it was like a switch had been flipped, revealing a side of Seulgi she’d never seen. A side that was dark, dominant, and utterly captivating.

“I… I don’t think…” Jisoo stammered, but the words died in her throat as Seulgi’s hand on her knee began to slide higher, inching its way up her thigh with excruciating slowness.

“Don’t think,” Seulgi commanded softly. Her eyes were locked on Jisoo’s, a dark, hypnotic gaze. “Just feel. Tell me you don’t feel something right now. Tell me your pussy isn’t getting wetter just from my hand on your leg.”

Jisoo couldn’t lie. She could feel the fresh wave of slickness, the undeniable evidence of her body’s betrayal. Her thighs trembled, and she had to fight the urge to part them wider, to invite that hand further up.

“But… Irene,” Jisoo finally managed to gasp, the name a last-ditch effort to cling to sanity. “You’re with Irene.”

The mention of Irene should have been a bucket of ice water. Instead, Seulgi’s smile turned positively wolfish. “Ah, yes. My beautiful Irene.” She leaned in closer, her face now just inches from Jisoo’s, her breath warm against her lips. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. We’re not… conventional. We believe in freedom. In exploring desire wherever it leads.” Her lips brushed against Jisoo’s earlobe, her voice a hot puff of air. “And Irene has had a thing for you for years. She’d be pissed she missed this. In fact,” Seulgi paused, letting the delicious, filthy implication hang in the air, “she’d probably want me to text her a play-by-play. Or even better, she’d want to join us next time and have a turn.”

The image that assaulted Jisoo’s mind was so graphic, so potent, it stole her breath. Herself, trapped between Seulgi’s raw power and Irene’s cool, elegant control. Four hands, two mouths, all focused on her. The thought was so overwhelming it made her head spin.

“See?” Seulgi’s voice was a triumphant purr. She had seen the flash of raw desire in Jisoo’s eyes. She knew she had her. “Your body knows what it wants, even if your head is trying to talk it out of it. You want this, Jisoo. You want me.”

She pulled back just enough to look Jisoo dead in the eye, her hand still resting high on Jisoo’s thigh, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin where her leg met her hip. “Let’s be perfectly clear. This isn’t a pity fuck. I’m not doing you a favor. I’m doing this because I want to. Because I’ve been your best friend for years and watched you command thousands of people in the tour, and all I’ve ever wanted to do is get you alone and see what you look like when you lose all that control. When you’re a messy, loud, desperate little mess for me. And tonight,” she glanced down at the pillow still clutched in Jisoo’s lap, “I got a preview. And it’s so much better than I ever imagined.”

Her hand moved again, tracing the seam of Jisoo’s thigh, so close to where she needed it to be. Jisoo’s hips jerked involuntarily, a silent plea for more. The war inside her was over. The fear was still there, a faint tremor, but it was completely buried under an avalanche of pure, primal need. She was tired of fighting. Tired of being strong. She wanted to be taken. She wanted to be wrecked.

Slowly, Jisoo nodded, a single, jerky motion. “Okay,” she breathed, the word barely audible. “Okay.”

A brilliant, predatory smile lit up Seulgi’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jisoo confirmed, her own voice a husky whisper. “But… go slow. I’ve never… with a girl.”

“Of course,” Seulgi promised, her voice thick with satisfaction. “I’ll be your teacher. I’ll show you everything.” She leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of Jisoo’s mouth. It was a possessive, branding kiss. “Now,” she murmured against Jisoo’s skin. “Get rid of that stupid fucking pillow. It’s hiding the prettiest sight I’ve seen all night.”

With a deep, shaky breath, Jisoo tossed the pillow aside. Seulgi’s eyes immediately dropped, her gaze roving over Jisoo’s exposed cunt with an unrestrained hunger that made Jisoo’s inner walls clench.

“Fuck, Jisoo,” Seulgi breathed, her voice raw with awe. “You’re soaking.” She reached out, not to touch, just to hover her hand over Jisoo’s curls. “Look at that. All for me. Can I touch you, Jichu? Can I touch this pretty little cunt?”

“Please,” Jisoo whispered, the word torn from her throat. “Please, Seulgi.”

Seulgi’s fingers finally descended, making contact with Jisoo’s slick, swollen folds. The touch was light, a maddeningly gentle exploration, but it was like a live wire had been pressed against her skin. Jisoo cried out, her back arching off the couch as a bolt of pure pleasure shot through her.

“So fucking responsive,” Seulgi murmured, a deep, satisfied hum vibrating in her chest. Her fingers began to move with a practiced, patient ease. She wasn’t in a hurry. She was mapping Jisoo, learning every ridge, every sensitive spot. She traced the outline of Jisoo’s hole, circling it without entering, making Jisoo whimper and lift her hips, trying to force the contact deeper.

“Ah-ah,” Seulgi tsked, pulling her hand back slightly. “Patience. I’m in charge here.” Her other hand came up to Jisoo’s breasts, her thumbs brushing over the hard, aching nipples. “You have incredible tits, you know that? So perfect.” She rolled one nipple between her thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to send a sharp, exquisite pain-pleasure straight to Jisoo’s clit.

“Oh god,” Jisoo gasped, her hands flying to Seulgi’s shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of her shirt.