Chapter 3: "Nocturnal test"

The midnight rain over Seoul was a gentle, rhythmic percussion against the thick glass of the NMIXX dormitory windows, a distant and soothing hum that swallowed the muffled, neon-lit sounds of the restless city below. A cool, damp night breeze slipped through a narrowly cracked window, carrying the faint, ozonic scent of the storm and weaving it through the heavy, tranquil air of the bedroom. The atmosphere inside was a delicate tapestry of sweet, feminine innocence—the lingering fragrance of peach-scented body lotion, the crisp, clean aroma of laundered silk sheets, and the faint, dying embers of a lavender candle melting down into a pool of warm wax on a nearby desk. The room was bathed in a beautiful, ethereal play of light and shadow, the silver moonlight slicing through the parted curtains to paint long, ghostly geometric shapes across the soft velvet rug.

In this sanctuary of exhausted, sleeping idols, a shadow detached itself from the darkness of the hallway.

He moved with the silent, predatory grace of a panther navigating its domain. Y/N was a towering figure of strict authority and raw, European masculinity. At thirty years old, standing 188 centimeters tall and weighing a solid, fiercely muscled 90 kilograms, his presence was entirely incongruous with the delicate surroundings. He was dressed in his signature black Adidas training suit, the fabric moving over his powerful limbs with a faint, almost imperceptible rustle that was instantly masked by the distant patter of the rain. Around his thick, corded neck hung a small, vintage Polaroid camera, the plastic casing catching a stray beam of moonlight with a cold, unblinking gleam.

His dark brown eyes, sharp and calculating, swept the room. He bypassed the deeply breathing forms of Kyujin and Bae, their silhouettes buried beneath mounds of plush, luxurious bedding. His gaze locked onto the farthest bed, bathed perfectly in a shaft of silver moonlight.

There she was. Yonna Seol. Sullyoon.

She looked impossibly small and fragile, her 168-centimeter, 48-kilogram frame swallowed by the oversized, grayish-blue, sweatshirt-style pullover hoodie she wore to bed. The dark gray, charcoal leggings clung tightly to her slender legs, a testament to the grueling dance workouts she endured daily. Her long, dark brown hair was fanned out across the white silk pillowcase like spilled ink, framing a face of such staggering, flawless innocence that it almost seemed a crime to disturb her.

But Y/N knew the filthy, daring secret hiding behind those closed, innocent eyes. He remembered the explicit Polaroid she had so brazenly pinned to the wall of his secret room in the JYP building—a direct, unmistakable invitation. The sheer audacity of the shy rookie had ignited a dark, consuming fire within him. He was here to collect.

Y/N stepped up to the edge of her bed, his large frame blocking out a portion of the moonlight, casting a heavy, commanding shadow over her. He stood there for a long moment, luxuriating in the intoxicating anticipation. The heat radiating from his massive body slowly began to warm the cool air around her. He reached out, his large, calloused hand hovering over her delicate face before his rough thumb gently brushed against the impossibly soft skin of her cheek.

Sullyoon’s long eyelashes fluttered. A soft, confused whimper escaped her lips as her large, brown deer eyes snapped open.

For a fraction of a second, there was only the foggy disorientation of sleep. Then, the massive silhouette looming over her registered, and a jolt of pure, electric terror spiked through her veins. She gasped, her small hands flying to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs with the frantic, terrifying speed of a trapped bird.

"Oppa?" she hissed, the word a fragile, trembling thread of sound that barely disturbed the quiet room. Her eyes went wide as saucers. "What… what are you doing here? You can't be here!"

Y/N didn't flinch. He slowly sank onto the edge of her mattress, the heavy springs groaning softly under his dense weight. He leaned in, his face inches from hers, the intoxicating scent of his expensive, woodsy cologne and raw, masculine musk completely overpowering her senses.

"You left something in my private sanctuary, little deer," Y/N murmured, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that seemed to bypass her ears and resonate directly in the pit of her stomach. "A very daring piece of art. Did you really think you could hang an explicit picture of yourself on my wall and I wouldn't come to inspect the real thing?"

Sullyoon’s face went from pale to a deep, burning crimson. She glanced frantically at the sleeping form of Kyujin just a few feet away, her chest heaving beneath her oversized hoodie.

"Oppa, please," she begged in a frantic whisper, her hands reaching out to lightly touch the sturdy fabric of his Adidas jacket. "It’s not possible here. Everyone is asleep. Kyujin is a very light sleeper. If she wakes up and sees you… my career, your job… everything will be ruined."

Y/N reached up and unhooked the small Polaroid camera from around his neck, setting it down on her wooden nightstand with a definitive, heavy thud. The sound made her jump.

"I'll come to the secret room tomorrow," she pleaded softly, her deer eyes shimmering with a mix of fear and a desperate, budding arousal. "I promise, Oppa. I'll let you fuck me tomorrow. I'll do anything you want. Just… please leave before you’re caught."

Y/N looked down at her, his strict, handsome face utterly unyielding. The silver moonlight caught the sharp angle of his jaw and the dark, predatory gleam in his brown eyes.

"I don't make appointments for rookies, fawn," he whispered, his tone brokering no argument. "This is your nocturnal test. You wanted my attention? You have it. I need to see your body in the real world. I need a little test drive to see if you are actually worth fucking regularly, or if you're just a shy little girl playing with fire."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, sending a violent shiver down her spine. "So, you have a choice, my sweet Bambi. Either I try you out right here, right now, to see if you can handle what I have to give… or I walk out that door, and you will never, ever experience my eighteen centimeters. You’ll just be a good little idol forever, wondering what it feels like."

The ultimatum hung in the cool, rain-scented air, heavy and absolute. Sullyoon stopped breathing. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat feeling like a stone. She looked into his dark eyes, the sheer, dominant authority radiating from him completely short-circuiting her anxiety.

Her mind flashed back to Saturday night. The secret room. The hidden mirror. She remembered watching Jihyo, the proud, formidable leader of Twice, pinned against the glass, stripped of all her power, begging and moaning in pure, unadulterated ecstasy as Y/N dismantled her. She remembered how the sight of his thick, rhythmic thrusts had sent a spike of wet heat straight to her core. She remembered sneaking back to this very bed, slipping her inexperienced fingers beneath her own panties, and imagining Y/N’s strict, commanding voice in her ear as she fingered herself to the hardest, most shattering climax of her entire life.

The fear in her chest melted away, entirely consumed by a thick, syrupy heat pooling low in her belly. A small, shy, yet incredibly wicked smile broke through her nervousness, curving her soft lips.

Y/N saw the shift in her doe eyes. The surrender. The raw, untapped hunger bleeding through her innocent facade. It was the exact sign he was looking for.

"Good girl," he praised softly, the playful, witty edge of his personality bleeding into his strict demeanor. He sat up straight and pointed a commanding finger at her. "Get up."

Sullyoon didn't hesitate. She threw off her heavy silk duvet and slid out of bed, her bare feet sinking into the soft velvet rug. She stood before him, her knees trembling slightly under his intense, burning scrutiny.

Y/N stayed seated, his eyes roaming over the loose, grayish-blue hoodie and the tight charcoal leggings that hid her figure. Slowly, he reached out. His large hands gripped the hem of her sweatshirt. He pulled the thick fabric up, his knuckles intentionally brushing against the warm, bare skin of her stomach, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. He pulled the hoodie over her head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. Next, his hands moved to the waistband of her tight leggings, peeling them down her long, slender legs until she stepped out of them.

Sullyoon stood before him in the moonlight, completely bare save for a pair of pink Hello Kitty panties. She instinctively tried to cover her small "a" size breasts with her arms, her cheeks burning as the cool night breeze caressed her flushed skin.

Y/N stared at the childish underwear, a genuine, deep chuckle vibrating in his broad chest. "Hello Kitty, Bambi? Really? You write a filthy invitation demanding to be my cumslut, and you show up wearing cartoons on your crotch?"

"I… I didn't know you were coming tonight," she stammered, biting her bottom lip in embarrassment.

"Drop your arms," he commanded, the humor instantly vanishing, replaced by a strict, heavy expectation.

She obeyed instantly, letting her arms fall to her sides, fully exposing her pale, flawless, nearly untouched body to the silver moonlight and his ravenous gaze. Y/N’s eyes darkened to pitch. She was breathtaking. Fresh meat. He leaned forward, his face burying into the soft, fragrant skin of her flat stomach. He pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss just above the waistband of her childish panties, inhaling the sweet, powdery scent of her skin mixed with the musky, intoxicating pheromones of her growing arousal.

Sullyoon gasped softly, her fingers tangling tentatively in his short, thick black hair.

"Beautiful," he whispered against her skin, his breath hot and wet, making her tremble violently. "Now, make my cock ready."

He pulled back and lay down flat on her small bed, his broad shoulders and massive frame taking up almost the entire mattress. He looked up at her, his hands resting behind his head in a posture of total, arrogant dominance.

Sullyoon climbed onto the mattress, kneeling between his muscular thighs. Her hands shook violently as she reached for the waistband of his black Adidas pants. The sharp, metallic rasp of the zipper seemed deafening in the quiet room, but the rhythmic sound of the rain outside masked it perfectly. She pulled the thick fabric down, along with his dark boxer briefs, completely freeing the object of her intense, secret desire.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her deer eyes widened to their absolute limits.

His eighteen-centimeter cock sprang free, hitting his taut stomach with a heavy, wet slap. It was thick, monstrously heavy, and pulsing with hot, angry blood. The thick veins wrapping around the shaft throbbed in the dim light. It was a weapon of pure pleasure, resting against his tanned, muscular thighs, completely at her mercy.

She hovered over it, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Tentatively, she brought her small hand to her mouth. She parted her lips and let a thick, glistening drop of spit fall from her tongue, watching it land squarely on the broad, velvet-soft, ultra-sensitive head of his shaft. She wrapped her small, trembling fingers around his immense girth, her hand barely able to close completely, and began to stroke him, her movements slow, hesitant, and purely experimental.

"That’s a start," Y/N murmured, his brown eyes watching her every move with hawkish intensity. "But if you want to pass this test, my sweet Bambi, you need to use your sweet little mouth."

Sullyoon paused, looking up at him through her long, dark lashes, her face a portrait of shy insecurity. "Oppa… I… I've never given a blowjob before. I don't know how to do it. What if I'm bad at it?"

"I didn't ask if you wanted to do it, or if you had experience," Y/N replied smoothly, his strict tone wrapping around her like a heavy chain. "I asked you to prove your worth. Show me what you can do. Put your mouth on me."

She swallowed hard, the magnitude of the task dawning on her. Slowly, she lowered her head. The scent of his arousal—a heady, musky, salty, and intensely masculine aroma—filled her senses, making her head spin with intoxicating desire. She hovered just millimeters away from the blistering heat radiating off his skin.

She pressed her soft, plump lips against the side of his shaft, leaving a wet, tender kiss on the hot, pulsing vein.

"Go on, give it a try," he whispered, a hint of genuine encouragement breaking through his strict demeanor. "Taste me, Sullyoon."

She opened her mouth and darted her tongue out, dragging the wet, hot muscle slowly up the underside of his shaft. The taste of salt, clean sweat, and sheer male dominance flooded her tastebuds. She dragged her tongue over the swollen, purple ridge of the head, tasting the slick bead of pre-cum that had gathered at the slit.

A soft, rumbling groan vibrated deep in Y/N's chest, a sound so primal and approving that it sent a massive thrill of power through her inexperienced body.

Growing bolder, she opened her mouth wider, stretching her jaw, and enveloped the massive head. The blistering heat inside her mouth contrasted sharply with the cool night air in the room. She was clumsy at first, her teeth accidentally scraping against the sensitive skin of his shaft, her rhythm disjointed. But Y/N didn't scold her. He lay back, his hands gripping the silk sheets, letting her learn.

She adjusted, wrapping her soft lips tightly over her teeth to form a wet, suctioning seal. She began to bob her head, sucking gently as her small hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, attempting to match her strokes to the rhythm of her mouth. The wet, slick sounds of her oral worship began to fill the quiet space, harmonizing with the rain outside.

Y/N watched her, utterly mesmerized by the sight of the shy, pure NMIXX visual devotedly worshiping him in the moonlight. He could tell she was entirely inexperienced, but the sheer conviction, the desperate eagerness to please him, the way her doe eyes looked up at him for approval—it made up for her lack of skill tenfold. It had been a long, long time since he’d had a completely blank canvas to teach, to mold into his perfect toy, and he found the prospect incredibly, mind-numbingly turning on.