Chapter 2: "Discovery at the Polaroid Wall"

Sunday had unfolded behind the hidden mirror with the precise, expertly managed rhythm that Y/N had perfected over the years. The thirty-year-old European giant, an intimidating monolith of a man standing at 188 centimeters and weighing 90 kilograms of dense muscle, knew the nine idols of Twice inside and out. He was their strict dance trainer, their ruthless bodyguard, and their absolute master in the bedroom.

Sunday morning had belonged to the reserved, pale-skinned Dahyun. She was a girl who sought sanctuary from the chaotic idol life. Y/N knew exactly what she needed: no fuss, no degradation, just slow, deep, profoundly relaxing vanilla sex on the cool silk sheets that left her boneless and serene. In sharp contrast, Sunday evening had been a tempestuous storm with Jeongyeon. The edgy vocalist demanded a much darker intensity. She craved the sharp, stinging slap of Y/N’s heavy hand against her bare ass, the terrifying thrill of his thick fingers wrapping tightly around her throat, and the filthy, degrading insults he whispered into her ear as he ruthlessly rearranged her insides. Y/N, the ultimate chameleon of dominance, catered flawlessly to the distinct needs of whichever idol was up on his schedule. It was, all in all, a perfectly normal Sunday.

But for Momo Hirai, the group’s twenty-eight-year-old Japanese main dancer, every day leading up to Monday was an exercise in agonizing anticipation. Overwhelmed by her own deep-seated emotions, Momo harbored a secret, desperate hope in her chest: she wanted Y/N to love her just a fraction more than he loved the others.

Monday was always a brutally tough workout. After the weekend’s hidden indulgences, it was immediately back to the grueling business of being the nation’s top girl group.

It was a sweltering, sunny Monday afternoon in Seoul. The heat outside seemed to bake the glass walls of the JYP building, and you could practically taste the exhaustion in the air of the main dance studio. The heavy, intoxicating scent of the idols' sweet floral perfumes was entirely overpowered by the raw, musky scent of their sweat.

Even Momo, universally feared and respected as the group’s relentless "dancing machine," felt the deep burn in her thighs and lungs today. But the absolute certainty that she was scheduled for her weekly "treat" immediately after this workout gave her a dangerous surge of motivation. She didn't just want to survive the rehearsal; she wanted to put on a spectacle. She wanted to warm Y/N up.

Standing in the corner of the room, impeccably dressed in his signature fitted black Adidas training suit, Y/N watched them with hawk-like precision. His sharp brown eyes tracked every pop, lock, and hip sway. Secretly, he absolutely loved the sight of his personal "toys" pushed to their physical limits. He watched with dark amusement as sweat continuously ran down the delicate curves of their necklines, soaking into their tops and making their tight workout pants noticeably damp in the most appealing places.

Momo was a phenomenal sight. Her shoulder-length, straight light brown hair, styled in a layered bob with blunt bangs, was a wet, tangled mess sticking to her flushed cheeks. She was wearing a bright, canary yellow crew-neck short-sleeved top that clung translucent to her heaving, C-cup breasts, the word "USE" printed across her chest in dark, bold lettering—a wildly ironic statement that Y/N planned to take literally. Her lower half was squeezed into tight, medium-wash denim shorts that rode up her thick, muscular thighs, the seams dark with perspiration.

During the brief, panting water breaks between the grueling choreographies, Y/N could hear the girls whispering and giggling. Time and again, he caught snippets of his idols gushing about him, openly discussing how desperately they were looking forward to their designated day on the schedule.

Finally, the grueling eight-hour session came to an end. The music cut off, leaving only the sound of squeaking sneakers and heavy, ragged breathing echoing in the studio.

Sana, drenched in sweat and looking completely entirely drained, walked over to where Momo was stretching her hamstrings. A wicked, playful smile stretched across Sana's flushed face as she nudged her fellow Japanese member.

"You have a lot of fun with Y/N tonight, Momo-yah," Sana laughed, wiping her forehead with a small towel. "But seriously... do not exhaust him. I know you're crazy, but you shouldn't drain him completely. Tomorrow is Tuesday, which means it's my turn, and I actually want to have some fun too!"

Momo giggled, a bright, breathy sound, her black eyes sparkling with sheer adoration as she glanced briefly at the towering European trainer across the room. "Sana, please! Are you kidding me? You know as well as I do that Y/N is completely inexhaustible. I couldn't drain him if I tried."

Sana chuckled, leaning in closer, her voice dropping into a sultry, filthy whisper. "I guess that's true. Do you remember that one night? After the music video shoot during the Fancy era? When it went from your Monday night straight into my Tuesday morning?"

A dark, incredibly hot flush crept up Momo’s sweaty neck. "Oh my god... don't remind me. I thought I was going to die."

"He fucked us both completely senseless, all night long," Sana reminisced, her thighs visibly pressing together at the memory. "And the craziest part? The next day, throughout the entire Tuesday schedule, he stood there with his arms crossed, acting completely strict and professional like absolutely nothing had happened! Meanwhile, you and I couldn't even walk straight because of the pain in our cunts from Monday night."

Momo burst into laughter, burying her face in her hands. "We were waddling like penguins during the fan meeting!"

"We were!" Sana laughed back, her eyes darting toward the hidden section of the mirrored wall. "I still think about that Polaroid photo he took of us that night. The one hanging on his wall in the secret room... where the two of us are swapping his massive load of cum back and forth between our mouths. God, he ruined us."

"He did," Momo sighed dreamily, standing up and grabbing her water bottle. "Thank you for the fun wishes, Sana. I'll try to leave a little bit of him for you tomorrow."

As the rest of the exhausted members slowly filed out of the practice room, dragging their sore bodies toward the showers, Momo hung back. The moment the heavy double doors clicked shut, locking out the rest of the world, the sterile atmosphere of the practice room instantly evaporated. It was replaced by a thick, suffocating cloud of raw, unadulterated sexual tension.

Momo walked confidently toward the massive mirror wall. She pressed her hand against the hidden pressure mechanism. A soft, pneumatic hiss echoed in the quiet room, and a handle-less section of the mirror popped open, swinging smoothly inward.

She stepped over the threshold into the secret room, leaving the bright, sweaty studio behind. The atmosphere in Y/N's sanctuary was instantly intoxicating. The air conditioning was set to a perfect, skin-cooling temperature. The room was bathed in the beautiful play of light and shadow—golden candlelight flickering from expensive wall sconces danced with the silver moonlight filtering through a small upper ventilation window. The air smelled heavenly, an enticing blend of melted vanilla candle wax, the faint trace of ozone from the distant city night breeze, and the lingering scent of feminine arousal ingrained into the very fibers of the room.

The space was luxurious: a plush velvet sofa sat in front of a 52-inch TV, a massive king-sized bed was draped in dark crimson silk sheets, and the infamous weekly schedule board loomed in the corner, decorated with hearts and highly explicit Polaroid pictures of her bandmates.

Y/N followed her inside, the heavy mirror door clicking shut and sealing them in perfectly.

Without needing a single command, Momo turned to face him. Her chest heaved, the word "USE" stretching over her C-cups. Since she was the undisputed dancing machine of Twice, she wanted to give him a private show. To a silent, sultry beat in her head, she began to roll her hips. She reached down, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her soaked denim shorts, and slowly shimmied them down her thick thighs, stepping out of them. Next went her bright yellow shirt, pulled over her head and tossed carelessly onto the velvet sofa.

She stood before him in only a damp black cotton bra and matching black panties, her body glistening beautifully with a sheen of exertion.

Y/N’s dark brown eyes darkened with pure, predatory hunger. He stepped into her personal space, completely dwarfing her petite 163-centimeter frame. He reached out with his large, calloused hands, gripping her bare, sweaty waist. He leaned down, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her damp neck and collarbone. He inhaled deeply, visibly intoxicated by the raw, salty scent of her sweat mixed with her faint, sweet perfume.

"You smell incredible, Momo," Y/N murmured roughly, his hot breath sending violent shivers down her spine. "You worked hard today."

"I always work hard for you, Sir," Momo whispered, throwing her arms around his broad shoulders.

While his lips worshipped her sweaty skin, Y/N’s hands moved to the zipper of his Adidas track pants. With a sharp tug, he pulled it down, dragging the pants and his boxer briefs down his powerful thighs. His massive cock sprang free, completely rigid, thick, and heavy. A full 18 centimeters of heavily veined European meat, the dark, purple-hued head already weeping a slick drop of clear pre-cum.

Momo didn't hesitate. She immediately dropped to her knees on the soft, luxurious carpet. She looked up at the towering monolith of flesh before her, her black eyes wide with sheer adoration and immense hunger.

She began her oral worship with agonizingly slow, sensual lip-to-body contact. She pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses against his muscular inner thighs, tasting the salt of his skin. She cupped his heavy balls in her small hands, massaging them gently while her tongue darted out to lick the wrinkled, musky skin. She trailed her wet tongue up the thick underside of his shaft, swirling around the bulging veins, coating his dry skin with her copious, thick saliva.

When she finally reached the crown, she opened her mouth wide and took the large head past her lips.

Schlick. Slurp.

The wet, sloppy sounds of her mouth immediately filled the quiet room. Momo hummed in delight, her cheeks hollowing out as she created a perfect, tight vacuum. She wanted to impress him. She wanted to show him that she was his best girl. Placing her hands firmly on his thighs for leverage, she tilted her head back, completely opening her throat, and thrust herself forward.

She tried to completely wrap her tongue around his massive 18 centimeters and swallow it whole. The thick shaft bypassed her tongue, hitting the back of her throat with a brutal stretch. She gagged loudly—a desperate, wet hkkh sound—but she didn't pull off. She forced her throat muscles to relax, taking him impossibly deep.

Y/N looked down at the pathetic, beautiful sight of the nation's top dancer struggling to accommodate his sheer size. He stroked her sweaty, light brown hair gently, a dark, wicked grin spreading across his handsome face.

"Look at you," Y/N chuckled, his voice vibrating with mature, witty amusement and deep dominance. "I really wonder what your millions of adoring fans would think, Momo. If they could see the legendary 'dancing machine' down on her knees... completely unable to manage wrapping her tongue around her trainer's pole without choking."

The mockery, laced with that filthy, undeniable truth, hit Momo like a shot of adrenaline. It encouraged her to suck even harder. "Mmmph! Nnnngh!" she whined indignantly around his cock.

She pushed her face deeper into his wiry pubic hair, completely abandoning her gag reflex. She began to pump her head back and forth with a fervent, frantic rhythm. Drool and excess saliva completely bypassed her stretched lips, running down her chin and pooling onto Y/N’s balls in a wet, sloppy mess. The sheer physical strain of keeping her throat open for his massive girth brought thick, hot tears to her black eyes. Mascara ran slightly down her flushed cheeks, painting a picture of absolute, beautiful degradation.

The sloppy, sucking sounds—*smack, shuck, gluck*—echoed off the mirrored walls, a filthy soundtrack to her devotion.

Y/N threw his head back, his jaw clenching as the intense, agonizingly good friction of her deep oral stimulation threatened to break his iron control. He looked back down at her tear-stained, drooling face, letting out a genuine, breathless laugh.

"Fuck... alright, that’s enough for now, little machine," Y/N commanded, grabbing her shoulders and gently but firmly pulling her off his soaked, gleaming cock. A thick, viscous string of saliva connected her lips to his tip before snapping with a wet pop.

Y/N reached down, gripping her arms and effortlessly helping her to her feet. Momo was panting heavily, wiping a mixture of tears and drool from her chin. The moment she was upright, she pushed up onto her tiptoes. She threw her arms tightly around his muscular neck, pressing her body against his, and kissed him tenderly. It was a deep, highly emotional kiss, her tongue completely slipping into his mouth, transferring the musky, salty taste of his own pre-cum right back to him.

While they kissed, Y/N’s large hands roamed her sweaty back. One massive hand dropped down, grabbing a harsh, bruising squeeze of her firm, athletic butt cheek through her thin panties. With his other hand, he reached up to the clasp of her damp black sports bra. With a deft, practiced flick of his fingers, the bra unhooked with a soft click.

Momo broke the kiss, breathless and flushed. She let the straps fall from her shoulders, grabbing the black garment and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Her perky, C-cup breasts bounced free, the dark areolas tight and the nipples completely hardened from the cool air conditioning of the room.

"Sit on the sofa," Y/N demanded, his voice dropping an octave, raw and entirely commanding.

"Yes, Sir," Momo whispered obediently.

She practically scrambled backward, dropping onto the edge of the plush velvet sofa. The material was incredibly soft and luxurious against her bare, sweaty skin. Y/N followed her, dropping to his knees on the carpet right between her spread thighs. Without breaking intense eye contact, he hooked his thick fingers into the sides of her black cotton panties and smoothly pulled them down her legs, tossing them aside.

He leaned back on his heels, his brown eyes gazing hungrily at the prize before him. Momo’s Japanese pussy was beautiful. It was very lightly hairy, perfectly neat, and completely, overwhelmingly soaked. Copious amounts of clear, sweet-smelling arousal fluid glistened in the golden candlelight, slowly dripping down toward her perineum. The scent of her raw desire was intoxicating.

Y/N reached out, grabbing her ankles. He lifted her toned legs, draping them completely over his broad, muscular shoulders, opening her up to an agonizingly vulnerable degree.

"You're flooding for me, Momo," Y/N murmured, his breath ghosting over her swollen, pink folds.

"I always am," she whimpered, her hands gripping the velvet cushions tightly.

Y/N leaned in. He pressed his face directly against her wet core, his tongue darting out to trace a long, agonizingly slow stripe right up the center of her slit. Momo violently jolted on the sofa, a loud gasp tearing from her throat as his hot, rough tongue tasted her slick, salty juices. He began to lick her with expert, relentless precision, swirling his tongue around her swollen clitoris while simultaneously pressing his large thumb against the bottom of her entrance, rubbing the sensitive flesh with firm, rhythmic pressure.

"Ah! Y/N... God! Yes!" Momo cried out, completely unable to control herself.

Her hands flew off the sofa, tangling deeply into his short, dark black hair. She gripped his hair tightly, her nails lightly scraping his scalp. The sudden, desperate pull on his hair ignited a feral spark in Y/N. It drove him wild. He locked his jaw against her core and began to rub his thumb and flick his tongue with devastating, brutal speed.

The sensory overload was immediate. The soft velvet against her back, the cool air on her bare breasts, the burning heat of his mouth, and the thick, wet smacking sounds of him devouring her pussy pushed her straight to the edge.

"I'm coming! Y/N, I'm coming!" Momo shrieked, her entire body locking up rigidly.

Her thighs clamped down against his neck like a vice. She rode out a massive, shuddering climax, her first orgasm of the day hitting her with the force of a freight train. Her inner walls spasmed violently, gushing even more sweet nectar directly onto Y/N’s tongue. He drank her down greedily, humming in appreciation against her twitching flesh.

As Momo slowly came down from her intense orgasm, her chest heaving, her black eyes half-closed in a daze of endorphins, Y/N didn't give her a moment to recover.

He stood up, towering over her. He grabbed his massive, rigid 18-centimeter cock, slick with her saliva and his own pre-cum, and moved right up to the edge of the sofa. He pressed the thick, purple tip directly against her slick, twitching entrance.

Momo looked up at him, her eyes practically entirely black with lust. She reached up, wrapping her toned legs tightly around his narrow hips, locking her ankles behind his back. She pulled him in with her core strength.

Y/N pushed his hips forward. The penetration was excruciatingly slow and deliberate. The thick, heavy head parted her swollen labia, stretching her tight, Japanese cunt to its absolute limits. Momo let out a long, trembling groan as his thick shaft slid past her vaginal ring, the incredible friction sending fresh sparks of electricity through her hyper-sensitive nerves. He pushed until his pelvic bone locked solidly against hers, his entire 18 centimeters buried deep inside her.

They were perfectly aligned. Momo was sitting—or rather, half-lying—on the edge of the plush sofa, her back pressed into the velvet. Y/N was standing, leaning his heavy, muscular torso entirely over her, pressing his weight down, effectively pinning her in place.

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a fierce, bruising kiss. As their tongues tangled in a desperate, wet dance, Y/N began to pull his hips back. He almost completely exited her tight canal before driving his hips forward with a loud, wet SLAP of flesh against flesh.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The hard, deep, rhythmic fucking began. With every thrust, his massive cock pumped into her Japanese cunt, mercilessly bruising her cervix. The heat radiating between their glued bodies was immense, their sweat acting as a natural lubricant where their stomachs slapped together. Their kisses grew incredibly intense, completely messy and desperate. Momo began moaning directly into his mouth, the muffled sounds vibrating against Y/N’s lips.

Y/N broke the kiss, completely breathless, looking down at her flushed, ruined face. He gripped her hips, his thumbs digging into her hip bones, and drastically sped up his pace. He hammered into her with feral, all-consuming power.

"Do you like it, princess?" Y/N demanded, his voice rough, punctuated by the violent slapping of his thighs against her ass. "Do you like how your trainer completely fills you?"

"Ahhh! Mmmph! Yes!" Momo could only moan incoherently in response, her head tossing side to side on the velvet cushions, her C-cup breasts jiggling wildly with every brutal impact.

He was pounding her so hard the heavy sofa actually shifted slightly on the carpet. Momo’s inner walls were clenching erratically around his thick girth. Y/N’s hyper-aware senses picked up the subtle change in her muscle spasms. He realized instantly that she was right on the precipice of coming again.

He wasn't going to let her have it that easily.

With a sudden, jarring motion, Y/N pulled completely out of her with a loud Schlock.

Momo whined loudly, a genuine sound of distress at the sudden emptiness. She reached out for him blindly.

"Up," Y/N commanded, grabbing her arms and lifting her slightly off the sofa. "I want to fuck you doggy-style."

Momo didn't utter a single word of protest. She immediately scrambled around on the cushions, getting onto her bruised knees. She pushed her face down against the armrest of the sofa, elevating her perfectly round, sweat-slicked ass into the air.

Y/N stepped up behind her. He didn't bother with a slow entry this time. He grabbed her wide hips, aligned his thick cock with her gaping, dripping entrance, and drove his entire length into her with one devastating, merciless thrust.

"FUCK!" Momo screamed, biting down hard onto the velvet fabric of the armrest to muffle her cries.

Y/N took her doggy-style with raw, animalistic aggression. He leaned over her sweaty back, his massive hands reaching around to roughly massage and knead her jiggling ass cheeks as he pounded her. The angle allowed him to hit the absolute deepest, most sensitive walls of her pussy. He relished massacring her tight core with his 18 centimeters, every thrust pulling her inner flesh inside out before plunging back in.

Momo moaned and sobbed into the armrest, her body entirely surrendered to the violent, rhythmic abuse. The room smelled overwhelmingly of sex—the sharp tang of sweat, the musky scent of his groin, and the sweet, heavy aroma of her vaginal juices flooding down her thighs.

Suddenly, Y/N’s rhythm completely stopped. He pulled out again.

Momo, completely delirious with lust, spun her head around. She actually snatched her head back, her mouth opening, trying to catch the tip of his cock briefly with her lips, exactly like a desperate baby crying for a pacifier that had just been stolen away.

Y/N laughed, a dark, incredibly arrogant sound. "You were entirely too lazy during the dance training today, Momo," he teased sharply. "I think you need some extra cardio. You have to dance on my cock now."

He stepped around the sofa and sat down heavily on the cushions, spreading his muscular legs, his thick, juice-coated cock standing straight up like a monument.

Momo knew exactly what to do next. Her eyes burning with determination, she straddled his thighs, turning her back to him. She reached behind her, gripping his thick shaft with her small hand to guide it. She raised her hips and slowly, agonizingly lowered her slick, wet entrance directly onto his 18-centimeter rod.

"God... it's so thick," Momo hissed as she took his full length, her bottom settling firmly against his groin.

Y/N sat perfectly still on the sofa, his hands resting on his own knees. He watched the incredible spectacle before him. Because she was facing away from him, she was staring directly at the massive mirrored wall that concealed the practice studio. Y/N looked right past her shoulder into the mirror.

The reflection was breathtaking. He saw Momo’s flushed, sweaty body completely bathed in the golden candlelight. He saw her beautiful, makeup-smudged face contorted in pure ecstasy. As Momo began to ride him, bouncing up and down with immense athletic power, he watched her heavy C-cups jiggle violently with every single thrust. He watched the reflection of his own massive, big white cock sliding entirely in and out of her tight Japanese pussy, the wet, slapping sounds echoing sharply in the room.

"That's it, machine. Ride it. Give me a show," Y/N encouraged thickly, his own control rapidly fraying under the intense visual and physical stimulation.

Momo rode him like her life depended on it. She ground her hips into his pelvis, squeezing her internal muscles around his girth, trying to extract every single drop of pleasure. The friction was maddening. The sweat pouring down her back pooled where their bodies connected, making the ride incredibly slick and fast.

"Y/N! I can't... I can't hold it!" Momo screamed at the reflection in the mirror, her pace becoming completely erratic.

"Then come for me, Momo! Squeeze my cock!" Y/N roared, his hands flying up to grip her hips, thrusting upward to meet her downward plunges with devastating counter-force.

The climax hit her with world-shattering intensity. Momo threw her head back, a long, tearing scream ripping from her throat. Her body convulsed violently, her inner walls clamping down on his 18 centimeters with crushing, milking pressure. The intense, shuddering spasms of her pussy pushed Y/N straight over the edge.

With a deep, guttural groan that vibrated through the entire sofa, Y/N drove his hips upward one final, incredibly deep time and completely unloaded. Boiling hot, thick jets of his cum shot directly against her cervix. He filled her utterly and completely, wave after heavy wave of his seed flooding her tight idol cunt, the sheer volume stretching her even further.

Momo slumped forward, her chest heaving, her sweaty back resting entirely against Y/N’s chest. They sat there for several long minutes, the only sounds being their ragged breathing and the soft, distant hum of the Seoul traffic outside the thick walls.

Slowly, Y/N grabbed her waist and effortlessly lifted her off him. His softening cock slipped out of her with a loud, wet squelch.

Momo collapsed sideways onto the velvet sofa. She lay there, completely satisfied, a huge, goofy, blissed-out smile on her face. Her legs were spread slightly, and thick, white strings of Y/N’s cum were already continuously dripping out of her tight, swollen entrance, pooling messily onto the velvet cushions.

Y/N stood up, grabbing a small towel from the nearby shelf to wipe himself down.

Momo looked up at his broad, muscular back. Her heart was swelling with an intense, overwhelming cocktail of endorphins, adrenaline, and pure affection. She couldn't hold it in.

"Y/N..." she whispered softly, her black eyes shining with raw, vulnerable emotion. "I love you. I really, truly love you."

It was easily the hundredth time she had made this exact confession since Y/N had started fucking her on a regular schedule. And exactly like the ninety-nine times before, Y/N’s reaction was immediate and completely frigid.

He turned around, his brown eyes hard, completely devoid of any romantic warmth. He blocked her emotional advance with clinical precision.

"Stop it, Momo," Y/N said coldly, his strict, authoritative tone slicing through the warm, post-coital haze in the room. "Do not confuse a dopamine rush with love."

Momo’s smile faltered slightly. "But I do... you're the only one who—"

"I am the only one who relieves your stress," Y/N interrupted firmly, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "As the dancing machine of this group, you are under immense physical and mental pressure. The sex we have is special because of your stamina. But that is all it is, Momo. It’s just sex."

He walked over to the small table, picking up a bottle of water. "You are on the exact same level as the other Twice members. All of my toys are treated fairly, and none of them receive special emotional privileges. Understood?"

Momo swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. She hated his rigid rules, but she was entirely too addicted to his body to ever complain. She forced her bright smile back into place. "Yes, Sir. I understand."

Satisfied that order was restored, Y/N took a drink of water. He turned to walk toward the adjoining bathroom to wet a towel for her, but as he passed the massive corkboard that held the weekly schedule, he stopped completely dead in his tracks.

The board was perfectly organized. The days of the week, the names of his toys, and the explicit Polaroids. But right there, pinned next to Tzuyu's Friday photo, was a new picture. A picture that completely did not belong.

Y/N narrowed his eyes. He reached out and pulled the picture off the wall, staring at it closely.

Momo, noticing his sudden silence, propped herself up on her elbows. She peered over the armrest of the sofa, her eyes landing on the Polaroid in his massive hand.

"What is that?" Momo asked, her voice losing its emotional weight, replaced by pure curiosity.

Y/N held the photo up. It was a picture of a girl. She was completely nude, her small, A-cup breasts perky, her wide, brown deer eyes staring into the camera. And written across her flat stomach in thick black marker was a desperate message: “I want to be a cockslut for Y/N, too.”

Momo gasped loudly, sitting up completely, ignoring the fresh drop of cum that splattered onto the sofa. "Oh my god... that’s Sullyoon. From NMIXX! The rookies!"

Y/N stared at the photo, remaining completely silent.

"Y/N, she knows!" Momo panicked, her eyes darting toward the mirror door. "It's incredibly risqué to just sneak in here and hang a naked picture of yourself in the Twice sanctuary! If she tells anyone about this room... about the schedule... we are all ruined!"

Y/N didn't look panicked at all. In fact, as he traced his thumb over the glossy surface of the photo, a slow, incredibly dark, predatory grin spread across his handsome face. The thrill of a new, untouched idol offering herself to him was intoxicating.

"Calm down, Momo," Y/N murmured, his deep voice rumbling with wicked intent. He tucked the Polaroid into the pocket of his discarded Adidas pants. "She isn't going to tell a soul."

He looked toward the hidden door, his brown eyes gleaming with the promise of absolute corruption.

"It seems the little deer has wandered entirely too close to the lion," Y/N chuckled, the sound sending a shiver of fear and jealousy down Momo's spine. "I think I need to pay NMIXX's little visual a 'visit' tonight... just to ensure she thoroughly understands the strict rules of keeping a secret."

[End of Chapter 2]