Prescription for Pleasure

Two weeks. It had been fourteen days since Seulgi had broken Kim Jisoo wide open, and her body still hadn't forgotten the lesson.

It wasn't shame that made her avoid Seulgi. Shame would have been simple, a clean, neat emotion she could package away and deal with. This was far more complicated. This was a bone-deep, cellular memory of pleasure so profound it had rewritten her entire understanding of the word. She’d walk through the corridors of the BLISSOO building, and a whiff of someone’s vanilla-scented perfume would send a phantom jolt straight to her clit. She’d be in the middle of a grueling dance practice, the muscles in her thighs screaming, and she’d flash on the feeling of Seulgi’s hands holding her down, and she’d stumble, her face flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with exertion. At night, alone in her bed, she didn't even bother trying to touch herself. It was useless. Her own fingers felt pathetic, a clumsy imitation of the expert, knowing touch she now craved. She would lie there, replaying the night in excruciating detail: Seulgi’s predatory grin, the feel of her mouth, the guttural command to squirt for me. The memories were so vivid, so visceral, that she could almost feel the phantom pressure, the ghost of a release so powerful it had scared her.

So she avoided Seulgi. It was a campaign of strategic, almost military precision. She used her schedule as a shield. "Sorry, I have a magazine shoot," she’d text, even when she was just at home watching Netflix. "Can't, vocal training," she’d claim, when the only thing she was training was her ability not to masturbate while thinking about her best friend. When their paths did cross, in group meetings or during schedule overlaps, she was a master of deflection. She’d attach herself to Jennie or Rosé, she’d be on her phone, she’d be deep in a "very important" conversation with her manager. She never made eye contact for more than a second, terrified Seulgi would see the truth in her eyes: not regret, not embarrassment, but a desperate, gnawing hunger.

Tonight, the charade had to end. It was her birthday party. Her apartment was thrumming with music and laughter, filled with the faces of people she loved. And of course, Seulgi was here, a radiant, powerful presence by Irene’s side. Jisoo watched them from across the room, a strange knot tightening in her stomach. Irene, with her cool, elegant beauty and her placid, knowing smile, looked like she owned the world. Seulgi, laughing at something Irene whispered, kept glancing over at Jisoo, and every time their eyes met, Jisoo felt a jolt, a current of unspoken communication that made her skin prickle. Did Seulgi know? Was she playing along, or was she genuinely oblivious to the two-week game of cat and mouse Jisoo had been playing? If she knew, she was a damn good actress.

As the party wound down and guests began to trickle out, Jisoo’s anxiety mounted. The final confrontation was inevitable. She saw Seulgi and Irene gathering their things by the door, and her heart started hammering against her ribs. She braced herself, pasting on her brightest, most neutral idol smile.

“Happy birthday, Jichu!” Seulgi’s voice was its usual warm, bright self. She pulled Jisoo into a bone-crushing hug, her familiar scent of vanilla and sunshine wrapping around Jisoo, instantly disarming her. Jisoo felt herself melting into the embrace, two weeks of tension threatening to dissolve in a single moment.

“Thanks, Seulgi-yah,” Jisoo murmured into her shoulder.

Seulgi pulled back, but her hands lingered on Jisoo’s arms. She leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Jisoo’s cheek. It was a perfectly normal gesture between best friends, but it felt loaded, charged. As she did, her hand moved with impossible speed, slipping something small and folded into Jisoo’s palm. Jisoo’s fingers closed around it instinctively.

“Best present is yet to come,” Seulgi whispered with a wink, before turning and linking her arm through Irene’s. “Later, Jisoo-yah!” Irene gave her a small, elegant wave, a knowing look in her eyes that made Jisoo’s stomach flip.

And then they were gone. The door clicked shut, and the apartment fell into a sudden, echoing silence. Jisoo stood there for a long moment, her heart pounding, the small, folded paper feeling like a secret bomb in her hand. She walked over to her couch, sinking into the soft leather, and slowly unfolded the note. The handwriting was Seulgi’s, a messy, confident scrawl.

Do you think I wouldn't realize that you are avoiding me? I know you're not regretting the sex, otherwise you wouldn't cum so hard that night. Must be embarrassed then? I'm offended that you feel that way, I'm your best friend ffs. You have to make it up to me. Meet me at the Four Seasons penthouse near your apartment tomorrow, 8pm, don't be late. I have a special birthday surprise prepared for you. Also, I might've stolen something tonight. Don't worry, it's for a good reason and you'll get it back if you behave nicely 😉.

Love you, your best friend and favorite fuck buddy.

A slow heat bloomed in Jisoo’s chest, spreading through her veins like a warm, potent drug. Offended? God, Seulgi had no idea. Jisoo wasn’t embarrassed; she was fucking terrified. Terrified of how much she wanted it. Terrified of how much she wanted her. The audacity of the note, the sheer, unapologetic confidence, was the most arousing thing she’d ever read. And the stolen object… her mind raced back to the party, trying to remember if Seulgi had been anywhere near her bedroom. A thrill shot through her, sharp and dangerous. Yeah, sleeping tonight was going to be impossible.

The next day…

The Four Seasons penthouse suite was a world away from the sterile, minimalist aesthetic Jisoo favored. It was opulent, rich, and currently, it was the scene of a very strange crime. Seulgi stood with her hands on her hips, surveying their handiwork with a critical eye. They had transformed the plush, luxurious living room into something that looked bizarrely, and convincingly, like a VIP hospital examination room. A sleek, modern leather chaise lounge had been positioned in the center of the room, draped in crisp white sheets. Beside it, a stainless steel tray stand held an array of… instruments. Not medical ones, but ones of a far more interesting variety. Bottles of lube, silk blindfolds, a small, elegant feather, and nestled amongst them, the prize.

Irene, meanwhile, was pacing. She looked incredible in her costume—a crisp, white lab coat worn over a black lace bralette and matching panties, her long legs clad in sheer white stockings held up by a delicate garter belt. Her usually calm, composed demeanor was frayed at the edges.

“Seulgi, are you absolutely sure about this?” Irene asked for the third time in ten minutes, her voice tight with nerves. She ran a hand through her perfect, dark hair. “What if she thinks we’re insane? What if she just walks out?”

Seulgi turned to her girlfriend, a slow, predatory grin spreading across her own face. She looked every bit the part of the naughty nurse in her tight, short white uniform, her hair pulled back in a bun that looked severe but was designed to be easily undone. “Bae Irene, are you telling me you’re nervous?” she purred, closing the distance between them. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of Irene’s stocking. “I seem to recall someone getting so turned on when I told her about our little night together that she came in under a minute. Without me even touching her.”

A deep blush spread across Irene’s cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. “That’s different. That was… a fantasy. This is real.”

“This is better than real. This is roleplay,” Seulgi corrected, her hands moving to Irene’s waist, pulling her closer. “And don’t pretend for a second that you haven’t been imagining this. I’ve seen the way you look at her. The way your eyes linger on her lips, her neck. You’ve wanted to get your hands on Kim Jisoo for years, unnie. And tonight, you get to. You get to be the one who fixes her.”

The word hung in the air, charged with meaning. Irene’s breath hitched, her resolve wavering under Seulgi’s confident assault. She did want Jisoo. She’d always been drawn to Jisoo’s elegant, untouchable aura, the secret fire she sensed burning beneath the composed surface. The story Seulgi had told her, in graphic, filthy detail, about catching Jisoo and then utterly wrecking her, had fueled a thousand of her own private fantasies.

“I know you do,” Seulgi whispered, her lips brushing against Irene’s ear. “So stop worrying. Leave the convincing to me. I know exactly what buttons to push.” She released Irene and walked over to the instrument tray, picking up the object they’d both been staring at.

Jisoo’s black wand vibrator.

“Remember this?” Seulgi asked, a wicked glint in her eye. She’d stolen it right off Jisoo’s nightstand during the birthday party, a quick, surreptitious grab while Jisoo was distracted by another guest.

Irene’s eyes widened as she took in the toy. It was large, intimidating, the kind of tool that promised serious business. “My god,” she breathed, her voice a mix of shock and fascination. “She was using this on herself?”

“She was trying to,” Seulgi corrected. “Poor thing was fighting a losing battle with this monster. She didn’t have the right technique. The right… guidance.” She set the vibrator back on the tray, its presence a silent, powerful testament to Jisoo’s frustration. “But tonight, we’re going to show her what it’s really for. We’re going to make it beg for mercy, just like we’re going to make her.”

Before Irene could respond, a soft chime echoed through the suite. The sound of the doorbell.

Their eyes met. The game was on.

In an instant, their entire demeanor shifted. Irene’s nervousness vanished, replaced by a cool, clinical authority. Seulgi’s playful grin hardened into a mask of professional efficiency.

“Remember your role, Nurse Kang,” Irene said, her voice now a low, commanding alto.

“Yes, Doctor Bae,” Seulgi replied with a perfect, deferential nod.

Seulgi moved to the door and opened it. There stood Jisoo, looking breathtakingly beautiful and incredibly nervous. She was wearing a simple black dress, but she radiated a palpable energy of anxiety and anticipation.

“Miss Kim? Right on time,” Seulgi said, her voice crisp and professional, completely stripped of its usual warmth. “Please, come in. I’m Nurse Kang, and I’ll be assisting Dr. Bae tonight.” She stepped aside, allowing Jisoo to enter the room.

Jisoo’s eyes widened as she took in the scene. The makeshift hospital room, the chaise lounge, the tray of instruments. And then she saw Irene, standing by the window, looking like a dominatrix from a medical journal. Her jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Irene? What is…?” Jisoo started, her mind reeling.

Dr. Bae stepped forward, cutting her off. “Miss Kim, please. There will be time for questions later. Right now, we have a consultation to conduct.” Her gaze was cool, appraising, and it sent a shiver down Jisoo’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “Nurse, will you please prepare the patient? Instructions are on the table.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Seulgi said efficiently. She picked up a folded piece of white fabric from the tray and handed it to Jisoo. It was a medical examination gown, but a very flimsy, revealing one, designed to tie only at the neck and leave the back completely open.

“You will find the bathroom through there,” Seulgi said, pointing to a door. “Please remove all of your clothing and put this on. When you are finished, knock on the door, and we will begin your examination.”

Before Jisoo could form a coherent protest, before she could even process the fact that Irene was standing there calling herself ‘Doctor,’ Seulgi gave her a gentle but firm push towards the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jisoo alone in the pristine white room, the flimsy gown in her hands, her heart hammering against her ribs with a wild, thrilling beat.

She took a deep breath, her reflection staring back at her from the mirror. She saw the confusion, the shock, the nervousness. But beneath it all, she saw something else. A deep, dark, pulsing curiosity. She thought of Seulgi’s note. You’ll get it back if you behave nicely. She thought of the stolen vibrator, the one on that tray out there. She thought of Irene’s cool, commanding gaze.

A slow smile spread across her face. Fuck it. She was tired of thinking. Tired of being in control. It was her birthday, after all. And this was, without a doubt, the most intriguing birthday present she had ever received. With a deep, steadying breath, she reached for the zipper on her dress.

The bathroom was a sanctuary of cool marble and stark white tile. Jisoo looked at her reflection, at the wild, almost feral look in her own eyes. She was Kim Jisoo, GLOBAL IT GIRL, a woman who controlled her image, her career, her life with an iron fist. But in here, right now, she was just a woman about to surrender all of it. The thought was terrifying. And it was the most liberating thing she had ever felt.

With a steady breath, she unzipped her black dress. The soft rustle of the fabric as it pooled at her feet was the only sound. She unhooked her bra, her breasts spilling free, the nipples already pebbled from a mixture of cold air and pure adrenaline. She slid her panties down her legs, the last piece of her armor gone. She stood there, naked and vulnerable, for a long moment. This was it. The point of no return.

She picked up the flimsy white gown. It was less a garment and more a suggestion. She slipped it over her head, the cool, sterile paper-like material whispering against her skin. She tied the two thin strings at the back of her neck. The front just barely covered the swell of her breasts and ended at the top of her thighs. Her back was completely exposed, from her shoulder blades all the way down to the curve of her ass. The sides gaped open, offering tantalizing glimpses of her hips, her waist, the dark shadow between her legs. She looked in the mirror again. The woman staring back was a stranger. A patient. A sacrifice. And she was so, so ready.

She raised her hand and knocked on the bathroom door.

The door swung open instantly, as if they had been standing right there, waiting. Seulgi stood there, her expression a perfect mask of professional efficiency. “Excellent. Right on time.” She held out a hand. “Please, come this way, Miss Kim. The Doctor is waiting.”

Jisoo stepped out of the bathroom, and the air in the room seemed to thicken, to crackle with electricity. She felt two pairs of eyes lock onto her, their gazes so intense they felt like a physical touch. Seulgi’s, dark and hungry, flickered over her exposed body, a spark of the familiar, predatory gleam in their depths. But it was Irene’s gaze that held her captive.

Dr. Bae was leaning against the instrument tray, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were narrowed, cool and analytical, as if she were studying a rare and fascinating specimen. They roamed over Jisoo, from the slightly trembling muscles in her legs to the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin gown. There was no warmth in that look, only a clinical, assessing heat that made Jisoo’s pussy clench with a force that made her knees weak.

“Turn around, please,” Irene commanded, her voice low and devoid of emotion.

Jisoo obeyed instantly, her body moving on instinct. She turned slowly, presenting her bare back to them. She could feel their eyes on her, tracing the line of her spine, the dip of her waist, the soft globes of her ass.