“Harder.”
Just a single word, sliding from pursed lips in a short, sharp hiss - and yet the effect it had on you was irresistible.
You grit your teeth. You tighten your left palm around her hip, feeling the soft flesh there give way beneath your fingers. With your right hand you reach up, tracing a path along her arched back, running your hand through the back of her wet scalp with surprising gentleness - until you push her skull none-too-gently into the wet shower wall in front of her.
She gasps as her forehead hits the cool tile, mouth agape and eyes shut momentarily, as though the little spike of unexpected pain had just sent a little shiver of pleasure up her spine. It was hardly a forceful impact, certainly not one that would leave any lasting or noticeable damage. But it was nonetheless an acknowledgement of her demand - and a prelude for what was to come.
Im Nayeon was no stranger to rough sex, and certainly not to sex in the shower. But even she had to admit that this newfound aggressiveness that you’d shown her today was exciting her in a way she hadn’t been in a while.
You press yourself against her - and your cock presses ever deeper inside her body, filling every inch of her wet, slick, aching cunt with your stiffness. She writhes and squirms against the tile, pinned - no, nailed - against it from behind like some obscene picture. Nowhere to move, nothing to do but simply take whatever kind of fucking the man inside her desired.
She hoped it would be rough. She wanted it. She needed it. And this was obvious to you, in the way her nails clawed in vain against the smooth tile, in the way her breath left her lips in sharp gasps, and in the way her tight, slick walls pulsated and squeezed and tightened around you.
“Now!” she hisses, her impatience boiling over, her body having been brought to such a heightened sense of awareness that she could now feel every small gyration, every little movement of your shaft inside her. Every little movement you made sent sharp impulses of pleasure up her spine. Every little micro-thrust you made into her body drove her just a little closer to insanity.
Your fingers tighten around her hip. You’d be leaving a mark there. It would go along with the ones you’d left on her neck, her collarbone, her sore, reddened tits, and the soft furrows you’d dug into her thighs when you’d thrown her onto the bed and she’d wrapped them around your face while you devoured her pussy.
But having her juices on your tongue and her orgasmic cries in your ears wasn’t enough - it would never be enough. You’d come to her apartment at her invitation, but it was you who had a promise to keep - one you’d made to another woman. When Nayeon pulled you into the shower and told you she wanted it from behind, you saw your opportunity to keep that promise.
You want to fuck the mewling young woman into the shower wall, want to wreck her tiny little body and turn her into a wet, slick, cum-filled, thoroughly fucked mess on the shower floor - just like you’d promised you would the next time you were with you. But you had to hear it one more time. Just one more time…
“Say it again, Nayeon. Tell me again how you want me to fuck you.”
“Hard!” she hisses, even before you finish your sentence, so impatient is she, and so needy is her body. She continues, her impatience and need pushing filth out of her mouth in a slurred spill of barely formed words. “Fuck me hard and rough and make me hurt. I can take it. Fuck me like I’m your toy. Fuck my tight little cunt hard and fast and don’t fucking stop, don’t ever fucking stop even if I tell you to, even after you cum inside me, just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, use my cunt please-”
That was it, that was what broke you.
Merciless is the term you would use for the way you fuck her. Hard and rough and fast, uncaring of her comfort or pleasure - all that mattered to you was the tight little hole at the juncture of her thighs and hammering yourself in and out of it as quickly as you possibly could. Every thrust, every entry into her body only served to drive you further, spur you harder into the next thrust, and the one after that, and the one after that.
And to her credit, Nayeon wasn’t lying when she said she could take it. She did more than just take it - she reveled in it.
Yes - to any observer of this particularly lewd act, Im Nayeon was being reduced to a whimpering, crying, moaning mess of a young woman, body unable to do anything other than take the rough fucking it was being subjected to. But inside her, beneath the cries of anguished pleasure and half-slurred encouragements to her partner to go on, to fuck her just like that, use her just like that, she was receiving much more than just a good, hard fuck.
She was getting what she really wanted - your full, undivided attention.
And she was right - the tightness of her cunt clenching around you, the half-moaned, half-hissed curses spilling from her lips, the knowledge that she had, ostensibly at least, fully submitted herself and her body to you, for your pleasure, for your use - it made Im Nayeon the only thing that mattered, the only woman that existed.
Your hand leaves her scalp momentarily, gathering a mass of slick, wet hair and pulling backward. Her face leaves the shower wall, neck jerked upward by the snapping of your wrist - but her moans don’t stop, not even for a second. She’s moaning and sighing and whimpering louder now, throat opened up by this new position, every little note leaving her mouth echoing in the small shower stall, filling your ears, making it sound like it was coming from all around you.
“I’m gonna fucking cum on your cock oh fuck,” she snaps, her lust-addled mind still able to form words - so long as they were lewd and obscene and filthy, of course.
That wouldn’t do.
“You’re not fucking allowed,” you hiss, the words spilling from your lips even before you knew what you were saying. She had awoken something in you, something dark, something you didn’t quite like or were entirely comfortable with - but it was also something you could not resist, not now, not in this moment, when Nayeon and her body were here, like this.
“Please, oh god, please! Please, let me cum please, your cock is so big inside me and you’re stretching me out please-”
Her words are cut off by the fingers closing around her windpipe - not nearly tight enough to actually cut off her breathing or restrict her from speaking, of course, but tight enough to tell her that it was an expression of control, enough to tell her that she wasn’t allowed to speak, not while you were in charge, not while you were doing what you were doing to her.
“You’re not… fucking… allowed,” you repeat, each word hissed into her ear, punctuated by a particularly hard thrust into her pussy, your fingers closing just slightly more around that soft, dainty neck of hers, the pull of your arm making her spine arch so very deliciously.
An airy, strangled gasp escapes her lips at your words - something like a cry of pleasure, or a vain protest, or a sign of submission, or all three at the same time.
You pull her close, her back arching further until it is almost touching your chest. Throughout it all, you are fucking her, pounding her, not giving her a moment of respite. Your hand at her hip, having spent the last few minutes pulling her body back against you with each thrust, slides up her body - your fingers not leaving her skin for a moment, as though you were glued to her in some way - to cup a soft, round breast.
You give it a firm squeeze. You find a tight nipple between your index finger and thumb, and you twist.
She shrieks, a yelp of pain. In surprise, at first, but it soon mellows - into a moan. Pain becomes pleasure, even when your fingers persist in twisting and pulling and pinching the tight little bud. To her it is yet another source of pleasure; to you it is yet another affirmation of your treatment of her. She loved this. Every moment of it.
Your fingers leave her throbbing nipple - and you sweep your hand up sharply, slapping her breast from beneath with an open palm.
She cries - in pleasure, in pain, both at the same time. Your hand closes over her breast again, squeezing it tightly, delighting in the feel of pliant flesh giving way beneath your hungry fingers.
“Such a dirty little girl,” you hiss into her ear. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you Nayeon? You love it - you love being used like this. You love it when it hurts.”
“Yes!” is the strangled cry from trembling lips. And it was no lie - although unbeknownst to you, she was getting off just as much from the attention being showered upon her almost as much as the cock in her cunt or the throbbing soreness of her breast.
“I’m gonna fucking cum in your tight little pussy, Nayeon,” you snap, your hand leaving her sore, flushed tit, sliding back down her side to her hip, where it resumed its position, controlling her, fixing her, pulling her back against you as you thrust forward, making each entry into her that much harder, that much faster.
“Yes, yes please!” she replies, breathless. “Please. Please. Please cum in me, use my cunt until you cum in it, please, oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna fucking cum oh fuck-”
Something snaps in you at the thought of her cumming before you. You considered yourself a mild-mannered person, and few things truly angered you in your day-to-day life, but the idea that she would let herself cum before you, even after being told she wasn’t allowed twice - it triggered you. It made you act and feel in a way that you weren’t accustomed to.
The anger rushes to your face, and you give her a particularly hard thrust before burying yourself to the hilt inside her. You push her against the shower wall, crushing her against it, chest and breasts flat against its cold, unyielding surface. She whimpers when the hand closed around her throat moves to her chin and pulls her face around until she is looking over her shoulder at you. You find her eyes, and you hiss four words, sharp and direct, brooking no further disobedience from the mewling, quivering young woman.
“You’re not fucking allowed.”
All she can do is nod. On the outside, she submits. But you don’t miss the flash of pleasure in her eyes at your words. It’s there, in the slight quiver of her lips, in the way her eyelids tremble for a moment before half-lidding those round, deep eyes of hers.
Your hand at her chin moves to the back of her neck as you resume your position. It pushes her against the tile, the side of her face and her upper chest pressed against it.
“When I cum in you, Nayeon, when I’ve filled your juicy little cunt with my cum - then, then you can cum.”
She nods, head jerking up and down quickly, her brain unable to conjure up words or think of anything other than the promise of release for the orgasm that she had been on the brink of for the last few minutes.
You fuck her against the tile. Hard and fast. Roughly, without a shred of gentleness or concern or care for the hole you were drilling into again and again and again. She’d made it clear, with the words leaving her mouth and with the reactions of her body, that she not only allowed this treatment - she craved it, loved it, was getting off just as much as you on it.
And with your conscience clear the lustful, primal creature within you releases itself, manifests itself in the rough fucking you give Im Nayeon. You pound her, fuck her wet, slick, tight little pussy with hard, fast strokes. You gaze downward, delight in the sight of the full, round cheeks of her ass and the way they jiggle and ripple with each thrust of your cock between them. Your hand leaves her hip for a moment to slap them with an open palm, again and again, until they are red with your palm prints.
The shower fills with moans and sighs and cries and grunts, all topped with that unmistakable, primal slap of wet skin on wet skin. Nayeon’s moans turn into hisses as she bites her lip, her body doing what it could to resist her orgasm, keep it at bay until you’d had yours. It’s obvious in the clenching of her pussy, in the nails digging in vain against the unyielding shower tile. She’s near. She’s right there, right on the edge.
But you beat her to it - as though it were a race you couldn’t stand to lose. With one, two, three more strokes into her pussy you bury yourself as deeply as you can into her body, pinning her hard against the shower wall until, with a strangled grunt, you finally give in. Your world explodes - in brilliant, white-hot pleasure - and your cock erupts inside Nayeon’s clenching cunt, filling her body with thick, warm ropes of semen.
Nayeon cries a cry of sheer, undivided pleasure as she is filled up - and she cums as well. You feel her pussy clench tighter around you even as it’s filled with spurts of hot semen. Every spurt she feels splash against her walls elicits a higher pitched moan than the last, as though she were in the middle of some lewd vocal exercise. As soon as she recovers the mental faculties to do so, the moans turn back into words.
“Oh god I’m cumming okay please oh god keep fucking my cunt I’m cumming on your cock don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop oh god-”
You follow her instructions - although, truth be told, you’d been following her instructions from the very second this little liaison had started, even if it seemed, to any outside observer, like it was quite the opposite.
But in that moment, as you continue to fuck the mewling young thing against the shower wall, continue to slide in and out of her increasingly sloppy pussy, none of that mattered. Your brain had little capacity to think of much else other than Im Nayeon, and her body, and the tight wet cum-slick walls wrapped around your still-orgasming cock.
And for Nayeon, the knowledge of that - of knowing that she was all that existed, that every shred of your attention was focused on her and her alone - it was all she wanted.
Time passes, but it might have been a few seconds or a few decades - you neither knew nor cared. Eventually, you slump against her, pressing her against the wall. Your breaths leave your tired lungs in heavy gasps against the back of her neck, your forehead pressed against the back of her head. Nayeon is still winding down from her orgasm, her small body still shivering as the last waves of pleasure flow over her senses. Her right leg quivers, even as semen begins to flow in thick trails down her thigh.
“Fuck, Nayeon, I-” you begin, even as you struggle to fill hungry lungs with deep breaths. “Fuck, I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to-”
“Shhh,” she snaps, eyes still shut, breathing still shallow. “Later.”
Despite her dismissal of your apology you still can’t help but feel a sense of shame overcoming you. You’d never treated the other girls like that, never been so forceful or dismissive of their comfort or pleasure. Usually their pleasure was the utmost priority - it was kind of part of your job as a toy, after all.
A part of you remembers, vaguely, why you decided to treat her like that - because of a promise you’d made to someone else. You’d expected to give her rougher than usual sex and leave it at that.
But to have used Nayeon the way you did, so harshly and callously, hurting her freely, and having given in so easily to your urges - it scared you a little.
“Nayeon-”
“Shhhhh,” she says, her turn now to repeat herself. “That was… fun. You know I like it rough. Sometimes it’s hotter when it hurts.”
You are initially worried by her admission, afraid that she was telling you as such because of a fear of what would happen if she told you any different; but the look in her features and the small twist of a smile on those perfect lips of her convinced you that every word was the truth.
You are unable to conjure up much of a response, your brain still wracked by the last remnants of your orgasm and the still-lingering sense of guilt and shame - but Nayeon’s warm, soft body beckoned, and you find your arms wrapping around her from behind. She turns her head, and she finds your lips. You share a kiss that is oddly warm amidst the roughness that permeated the shower just moments before. Her hand reaches up and around to wind itself into your wet hair, clasping your face against hers as her tongue duels with yours.
“Take your cock out of my cunt,” she says, softly, as she breaks the kiss to catch your gaze, eyes still half-lidded. “I want to taste it. I want to taste us.”
The look in her eyes burns right through you - it is raw and real. You are powerless to do more than obey, and so you slowly slide yourself out of her messy pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips as you do so. Drops of your cum drip from her drooling opening to land with heavy drops onto the tile beneath her.
Eyes still locked on yours, she falls to her knees, taking your still half-stiff cock, slick and wet and creamy with her juices and your cum, and sliding it between her lips. She takes you in and out, her tongue lapping up every ounce of creamy liquid from your shaft like it were some delicate treat that she couldn’t have enough of.
Only when your cock slowly begins to return to stiffness in her mouth, only when the prospect of continuing this silly, debauched little moment arises - then and only then do her eyes break contact with you to slowly drift shut. Her left hand drifts down her body, first to squeeze a round breast and pinch a tight nipple, then between her spread thighs, where she plays with your cum as it drips from her sloppy, freshly-fucked cunt. She rubs it onto her needy clit, and she sighs around your cock, pulling a sigh of pleasure from your lips.
You brace yourself against the shower tile with one hand as Nayeon continues to take you in and out of her mouth. Your other hand drifts down to her scalp as it bobs back and forth. Gently, you pull strands of her wet hair from her face, giving you a clear picture of those soft, beautiful features as she pumps your cock in and out between those plump lips of hers. You tuck the lock of hair behind her ear with a considerate softness so at odds with what had just transpired between you.
She is soft, tender with your cock. She takes you in and out of her mouth slowly, pleasuring every inch of it with her tongue, delighting in the taste of herself and you on her palette. You find yourself taken aback by her gentleness - it is such a refreshing change from the atmosphere of raw lust and debauchery from just a few minutes ago. When she lets you slip out of her mouth for a moment to give you long, slow licks up and down the entire length of your cock, she looks up at you with eyes that are soft and warm, as though she were pleasuring a boyfriend or lover, and not one of the group’s designated playthings.
You feel yourself weaken as you watch her pleasure you. Not just in the physical sense, in that she was pleasuring your body, making your knees weak, making you spine curl as every touch of her tongue sent shivers up its length - no, she weakened you in the emotional, metaphysical sense as well. You could feel your walls crumble around Im Nayeon, powerless to resist her, able only to watch helplessly as you let her into your soul where she could do as she willed.
After a few more minutes, satisfied with having brought you back to full stiffness, she rises from her knees. She draps her arms around your neck, pulling you into her embrace to kiss you. Passionate, slow, gentle, like a lover you’d known for years. You taste your combined juices on her tongue, and it lends the kiss a new flavor you weren’t expecting.
“Take me again,” she whispers into your ear. “Make me yours.”
She knew exactly what buttons to push with you. She knew exactly how to make you feel. She knew what words and actions would turn you into a slave to your most base, primal urges; and she knew what words and actions would turn you into a kind, soft, considerate lover. She knew exactly what to do to claim each and every ounce of your attention, knew how to banish away any thought even slightly resembling another woman.
She did it on stage, even when she was surrounded by eight of the most beautiful women on earth; women that most people would consider goddesses in their own right. She did it during that debauched night when you’d shared her at the same time with the two other toys - when she’d managed to erase the existence of the other four women in the room, even as they watched and cheered as you and the toys took her; and even after you’d fucked one before her and another one after, she was the lasting memory you had of that night.
And she did it now, during this intimate moment between the two of you - she made it seem, with every word that left her lips and every small movement of her body, like she was the only woman on earth.
She pulls you out of the shower and towards the bedroom, uncaring of the fact that you were both dripping all over the floor and her sheets. She lies on her back on the bed and spreads her legs for you, and she is all that exists.
It is only later, when she is cuddled against your side and drifting off to sleep, her well-fucked pussy leaking the second of your loads onto the sheets - only then do you realize that you’d forgotten all about Chaeyoung.
—
You had trouble reconciling the girl you were lying in bed with with the woman she was mere minutes ago.
And yet there she is - clad only in your t-shirt, idly browsing her instagram feed, occasionally reaching into the bag of rice crackers that you were sharing to pop one into her mouth. Your shirt - now hers, apparently - had ridden up when she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, compromising her modesty. She locked her ankles together casually, but there was no mistaking the small, perfectly maintained patch of hair above her opening just above where her thighs met, plain to see.
But she made no effort to cover herself up. Her duvet remained neatly folded on one side of the bed, untouched. Such was her confidence and comfort - with you and with her body.
Half-nakedness aside, Im Nayeon looked for all the world like your average girlfriend or wife. She was without the glitzy costumes and name brands, without an ounce of the makeup that took the already pretty campus crush and artificially transformed her into some unreachable goddess. Now, in this moment, she was just another girl.
“What’s your next couple of days like?” she asks, casually, popping another cracker into her mouth.
“Um, I’m picking up Momo from her shoot in a couple of hours. That’s it for me today. Then I’m taking Jeongyeon to the salon tomorrow.”
Her face lights up with a smile that, you could have sworn, literally brightened up the room. “Hey, do you mind picking up me and Momo on your way to Jeongyeon’s tomorrow? I do like bothering my husband,” she says, referring to her fake “marriage” with Jeongyeon. “Maybe you could drop the three of us off somewhere for dinner?”
“Sure,” you answer, before you are suddenly reminded of the last item you had on your schedule tomorrow. “I have to be back here by six, though - I’m picking up Chaeyoung for her photobook shoot tomorrow night.”
From the second you mentioned Chaeyoung’s name you knew you had fucked up. The mood in the room changed dramatically, and a tension that wasn’t there a mere second before was now suddenly very, unavoidably present.
Silence reigns for a few short moments - not more than a second or two, but it is unmistakably there, unmistakably palpable. Even Nayeon’s chewing slows, as though the rice cracker in her mouth had suddenly turned to ash at the mention of her band mate’s name.
“Chaeyoung,” she says, finally managing to swallow the cracker-turned-burnt-carbon. “You two are… awfully close these days, huh?”
You take a moment to conjure up a response, caught completely off guard by the topic.
“Um, I suppose?” you manage. “She was the one that picked me to be a toy, so I guess, yeah… I’ve spent the most time with her out of the nine of you.”
“Right,” Nayeon says, with an unreadable nod of her head and a blank but very serious mask on her features. “Because you’re her toy.”
“I… I suppose.”
Another couple of seconds pass. Whereas the silent seconds passed by effortlessly between you just a few minutes before, now each one seemed to drag on, heavy and weighty.
“It all makes sense now,” Nayeon says, voice soft. She rests her phone on her chest, folds her hands atop it.
“What does?”
She turns her eyes away, staring blankly at something across the room. “The way you acted today,” she says, plainly. “How rough you were with me. I thought you were just really into it, or maybe really into me.”
“I am,” you say, the admission spilling from your lips quicker than you were anticipating. “I was just… you… you really got me into it. Chaeyoung has nothing to do with this.”
“She told you to be rough with me, didn’t she?”
You are momentarily stunned by her question. Your brain scrambles to come up with some sort of response, some way to lead her away from this line of thinking. You had to deflect it, had to change the subject-
“I don’t follow,” you state, a falsehood that was obvious to both of you even as you said the words.
“Don’t lie to me,” she snaps, still not looking at you. “She told you to rough me up. She told you to hurt me, treat me like a whore.”
“Nayeon, no. That’s not true. She-”
“She told you to hurt me, and you did it.”
“No. Nayeon, listen to me.”
Nayeon finally turns her eyes to yours, and you are taken aback by the anger and hurt and pain you see there.
“What if I wasn’t into it, huh? What if I didn’t get off on you treating me like that? What would you have done? What was your goal today? Come over here and rough me up, then go back and tell Chaeyoung how you broke me? What did she promise to give you if you did this? Her pussy? Her ass? Money?”
You are too stunned by her accusations to say much of anything, and so you can do no more than simply sit there. She sits up in her bed and buries her head in her hands for a moment before reaching over and grabbing the duvet and hurriedly draping it over her bare lower body.
“Get the fuck out,” she hisses, face and eyes turned away.
“Nayeon, please,” you plead, leaning forward on the bed and moving closer to her. She has gathered her knees around her chest with her arms, still facing away. “Let me explain.”
“What’s there to explain? Your little girlfriend told you to come over here and treat me like a whore, and you did it without asking why. And now you get to go over to her place and claim her pussy as a reward. Congratulations.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” you say. “And she…”
“And she what?” Nayeon hisses, finally turning to face you again. Gone is the blank mask she was wearing - the hurt and pain were obvious to see now, in her eyes and the curve of her quivering lips.
“She… no, she doesn’t exactly… like you right now.”
“Right now?” Nayeon says with a huff of air through her nose, incredulous. “She’s never liked me.”
“But you two always look-”
“Fuck off with that,” she scoffs, turning her face away from you once more. “All that sisterly OT9 bond bullshit, that’s just for the fans.”
“I… what?”
“You heard me. It’s just an act we put on because the company thinks it’ll sell more albums. Jeongyeon and Momo are my only true friends. I would die for those two. The rest of them… they’re just fucking co-workers.”
You had seen and heard a lot in your time with the group - much more than you’d ever dreamed was possible. You’d been privy to their secrets, the things they did in privacy, away from the prying eyes of fans and the lenses of cameras; but it was this latest revelation that hit you the hardest.
“Of course she’d hate me,” Nayeon continues. “She’s always hated me.”
You are still unpacking her last words, and thus can say little more than a mumbled “Really?”
“Yeah. But I suppose I can see why. We’re not friends, never have been. Got off on the wrong foot, I guess, so we were never close. That’s why all she sees is the brands, the solo work, the glitz and glamor and perfect makeup. She’s like our fans - all they see is the Nation’s Center, Im Nayeon.”
“You think… she’s jealous of you?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Nayeon says under her breath, her expression softening somewhat. She lets go of her knees and crosses her legs beneath the duvet, but her eyes remain downcast, staring blankly at her hands in her lap. A sadness pervades the room. “We’re different people - she’s into art and tattoos, and I’m into fashion and makeup. I think that she just doesn’t vibe with what she sees - and because we’re just co-workers, what she sees is the fake, plastic Im Nayeon that the fans see, nothing more, nothing less.”
You can do little more than nod. Nayeon lets a soft, sad smile appear at the corners of her mouth.
“Do you know why my solo was called I’m Nayeon?”
“No.”
“Because I thought it would be a chance to show everyone who I really was. Beneath the brands and the spotlight and the stupid bunny teeth. I wanted to sing something cute and soft and acoustic, y’know?” she says, her smile gradually disappearing as quickly as it came. “But the producers wouldn’t let me. ‘The real you won’t sell albums,’ they said. So they wrapped me up in a fucking Louis Vuitton towel for the video and had me prance around on stage in lingerie with my tits and belly out - because that’s what the fans wanted to see. They use me to sell albums, my fans use me to get themselves off. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I’m sorry, Nayeon,” you say, not quite knowing why you were apologizing.
The girl lets a short scoff out through her nose, a sarcastic, sad smile on her lips.
“I don’t blame Chaeyoung for hating me,” she admits. “From her point of view? Yeah, I’d hate me too.”
“Nayeon-”
“Stop,” she says, the word sharp, as though she’d suddenly remembered how furious she was at you. “I don’t want any more of your bullshit. Get the fuck out of my apartment. I won’t ask again.”
“Nayeon, let’s talk this out,” you plead.
“Fuck off. I’m still fucking pissed at you for what you’ve done. Chaeyoung may have told you to do it, but you still fucking did it. I can’t believe you. What did it take - a cute smile and a touch of your cock and suddenly you’re her fucking slave?”
“No, Nayeon. You’re not listening-”
“I’m not listening? Hah!” she spits. “You’re the one that’s not listening, not seeing the signs. You’re the one that can’t see what she’s doing to you.”
“…What?”
“Tell me how many world tours we’ve had as a group.”
“What? Uh… three I think?”
“And I bet Chaeyoung told you that three of us get to choose toys each tour, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well that’s a fucking lie. Because in truth only two of us get to choose. Chaeyoung always chooses a toy. She insists on it.”
“So-”
“Yeah. She’s had three toys in total, not counting the ones she picks up from the crowd at our other shows outside of the country - and she always brings one home after those shows. And she treats each of them exactly the same way she’s treating you. How many other boys do you think she’s told the same things she’s told you? Do you think you’re the first and only toy she’s ever been this cute with? Do you think you’re the only one she’s turned against me? If you think you’re fucking special, you’re fucking not.”
The last couple of minutes had borne one stunning revelation after the other, but this last one stung the hardest.
“And each time she does it - each time she turns one of them against me - they go ahead and do it,” Nayeon continues. “They follow her orders like obedient little toys. And not one of them cares to think about me, and my feelings. They just see the cute and tiny girl next door with her weird style and funky tattoos fighting the ditzy beauty queen and immediately pick the girl next door. Just like you did.”
Nayeon turns her eyes away from you once more, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her back facing you as she sits upright. As she does so you catch a glistening in her eyes.
“It’s a shame,” she says. “I thought I saw something in you. I thought you were different. But it turns out you’re just like everyone else in my life. Everyone treats me like you just did - something to use.”
Nayeon rises suddenly from the bed and quickly leaves the room, grabbing a long puffy winter jacket from a nearby chair as she does so. She makes her way out into the living room and towards the apartment’s front door.
“Wait, Nayeon - where are you going?” you ask, but in vain - she is already slamming the front door behind her.
She is halfway into the hallway when you finally catch up with her. She struggles to escape the grip you have on her upper arm, and so you wrap both your arms around hers, bringing her into an embrace.
She sobs against your chest as she finally lets the tears spill over.
Your complete attention is focused on her, and so you miss the fact that there is a figure at the other end of the hallway. And in their hands is a camera, clicking away, capturing every moment of the half-naked idol in her manager’s arms - images that would be plastered all over the internet not long after.