Hey Workshop, it’s been a while since I’m here, but I figured that I wanted your

I’ve written 2 entirely separate prompts for the scenario in my head, but the other one lacked smut entirely. Bits and snippets of it are actually in the comments, but it lacked smut entirely and is simply used currently as context for the universe.

The premise is that my character (MC) is starting a new idol group, with the members being budding young artists/singers/actresses (see the comments). As the J/K-Pop industry is brutal towards idols that have romantic relationships, the MC ultimately decides to positions himself as the sexual outlet for his trainees/idols so that they can relieve themselves discretely (because teenagers/young adults never want to stop fucking) while attempting to further their careers to the utmost of his ability.

Disclaimer: I write for the Cyan character a fair amount in this prompt, but I think it’s necessary to establish their relationship.

“Cyan. They’re not worth it.” I said with a head shake.

Surrounded by wall mirrors and underneath the dance studio’s harsh white lights, all you were was laid bare. Coupled with several cameras situated around that recorded and broadcasted one’s every movement to a wall-mounted flat screen, there was no escaping scrutiny. And while that scrutiny was normally used positively for personal improvement, last night was the opposite.

Cyan, her bob-cut dyed after her namesake, was one of CLOV4R’s four members. CLOV4R, Nymph Entertainment’s newest K-Pop idol group, was the personal project of Aki ‘Taki’ Takahashi, former center of INFERNO, a group that smashed the Asian billboards and toured even in the U.S throughout their legendary 7 years before disbanding. Aki went into mainstream acting and while he found middling success, ultimately returned to Nymph and founded CLOV4R.

CLOV4R wouldn’t be the best dancers, nor the best-looking (at least in comparison to the supermodel 10/10s), but they’d be the best performers and exude unforgettable stage charisma; proof that even in the manufactured, shiny yet hollow K-pop industry, talent could still thrive. Their logo, a four-leaf clover, each of its separate petals a unique color of red, blue, green, and white, symbolized the four girls who comprised the group: Ruby. Cyan. Neon. Moon. All talent and a dash of luck to pursue a dream: engaged and betrothed to the fans, CLOV4R would perform at Sky Dome within 7 years as their wedding ceremony to them or die (figuratively) trying.

Last night, CLOV4R debuted on a YouTube Livestream and performed a rendition of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Anyone’ and Aespa’s ‘Next Level’, before its members introduced themselves to their viewers one by one and partook in a Q&A before signing off. That was when the incident occurred.

On the street, Cyan was a solid 8 and would’ve turned heads with her tomboyish look and her casually edgy, cool streetwear fashion. But in K-Pop’s realm, she was an unremarkable 6 to the majority and a “FFF”/“fatty flat four” from her worst critics. Those thighs that wrecked the dance floor? Her critics claimed if they got any fatter they’d quite literally do so.

Cyan pointedly ignored the flatscreen’s cruel comments during the livestream as I hastily deleted them and timed out her worst offenders. She laughingly brushed it off afterwards with the support of her group members, but it was clear those comments had weighed down her limbs. Her movements were sluggish; her foot stomps lacked force, as if she feared fulfilling her critics’ prophecy, moving too carefully in a choregraph that emphasized sharp, purposeful movements.

Drastic measures were in order. I paused the music. She stood, fists clenched, head hung low, gazing at the floor with her teeth pressed against her bottom lip. “Cyan. Take your clothes off. Everything but your socks.”

That got her attention. “What?”

“You heard me. You squandered your chance to practice properly, so you’re going to do it naked instead. Strip.” I snapped my fingers at my blue-haired trainee twice.

The young woman’s tensed shoulders rose in defiance, then fell in resignation. With an expression that screamed that she’d rather be anywhere else, she sluggishly stripped down to her socks, until she stood shivering while awkwardly covering her body up with her arms while I neatly folded her tank top and leggings into a square, then placed it inside a nearby cubby with her undergarments laid atop. Ignoring her discomfort, I fiddled with the studio’s thermostat until it was comfortably warm even for a naked person before returning to her side and pointing towards the mirror, the music leading in once again. “Alright, let’s take it down from the top again. One. Two. A-1-2-3-4.”

We performed the routine together, yet her movements continued to convey her troubled thoughts. But I had what I wanted as the music ended. Her face betrayed the anxiety of an employee expecting a reprimanding from their manager as I turned towards her. “Cyan, what are you right now?”

“I, -uh, I’m not-“ She stammered.”

“I’ll tell you what you are. You’re hot as fuck.”

Incredulity flashed across her face: she hadn’t been expecting that. I continued, “And what are you going to be?”

“I… don’t know?”

“You’re going to be the best.” Grabbing her by the shoulders, I shook her twice with a splash of roughness. “Look at that.” With several clicks of the remote, the wall-mounted flat screen played the routine Cyan and I had just performed, her lovely lady bits jiggling all around for the camera. “Doesn’t the girl on that screen look like a 10 out of 10 banging piece of ass?”

She remained silent while processing my comments as I came around behind her, pressing my groin against her backside/tailbone, hands on her shoulders. At least, they were, before they cupped the underside of her breasts, pushing them up. “Does my fucking cock feel like it belongs to someone who doesn’t want to bend you over right now?” Suddenly squatting down, my head level with her ass, I pressed my cheek against one buttock, wrapping my legs around her knees, staring at our reflection. “You’re telling me some unshaven Cheeto eating basement dwelling fat neckbeard wouldn’t want these legs wrapped around their head?” I argued fiercely.

It's strange: I’m trying to be as un-perverted as possible when advocating for Cyan’s attractiveness, while painfully aware of how good her legs feel against my face, how the shivering goosebumps on her body titillated me, how her pale chest had adopted an adorable shade of pink throughout this exertion. Even her sweat’s slight muskiness sent blood flowing toward my nethers as I restrained the urge to actually bend her over then and there.

Perhaps I was projecting myself onto that neckbeard. Just a bit. Eh.

“I’m sweaty.” She stated matter-of-factly, blushing furiously.

I ran my palm down her leg, then flamboyantly licked my fingers. “So what? More for me. You know, for some coomer out there, your sweat’s gonna be worth its weight in gold and they’d be positively nutting buckets at the thought of being me right now.”

An incredulous, but embarrassed smile cracked Cyan’s face, accompanied by a short snigger and even I couldn’t hold my composure. “Thanks.” She muttered, her cheeks aglow.

It’s strange. Compared to seeing her strip down naked, what disarmed me most was the bashful blush that blossomed across her cheeks. I bit my lip, unable to look her in the eye until I did, and asked, “What are you right now?”

Her voice was quiet, yet proud. “Hot as fuck.”

“What are you going to be?”

Her grin widened; her eyes glimmered, “The best.”

My smile matched hers and I patted her on the shoulder. “You’re damn right. Now put your clothes back on before you make me want to take mine off. And let’s do 3 more rounds just to really drive it home.”

And with that, Cyan danced just as well as she did yesterday on that livestream, even giving me a little bow as I clapped for her at the end before we went our separate ways for the evening: her, to a hot shower and I, to check in with the other idols. But not before a tight hug and what was undoubtedly an inappropriate clap on her ass from my end.

As I’m sitting in my living room that evening, I found myself thinking back to what Ai Hoshino, my old mentor and CLOV4R’s public manager had said when I brought the idea before her: “You realize it’s all going to be on you then, right? The world will idolize these girls, but when the limelight’s gone and they’re offstage, they’ll idolize you.”

Kinks: bodies pressed against the dance studio’s mirror in the middle of a choreography practice, deleting the sloppy oral audio files accidentally recorded inside the sound booth, trying on and stripping off a variety of idol outfits, getting showered with rose bouquets no more than an hour after being showered with cum, having the confidence fucked back into them after reading the hateful comments written by anonymous stans of other K-Pop groups, being mentored into the best you can be as both a slut and an idol, the ecstatic reverse gangbangs following an outstanding concert.

But let’s be real, after something like that, what they might want most could be having a sympathetic person know what they want most is to kick off their heels, bring them a cup of caffeine-free chamomile tea, and tuck them into bed.

Optional darker kinks: dubious abuse of authority, gaslighting young impressionable girls into thinking that acts of service will increase their sex appeal

My Profile

This roleplay will begin with the manager introducing two of the above talents one at a time, then the shenanigans that ensue as these unlikely 5 (in addition to supporting cast played by myself) form an unlikely chaotic combination with the dream of becoming a household name.

Q&A

Q: Where is the setting? Are we in Korea?

A: Yes and no. Where the roleplay occurs is largely irrelevant. Even if the roleplay is set in America, we’ll still use famous venues (Korean stadiums) and assume that a J/K-Pop idol culture is widespread.

Q: How much understanding of the K-Pop/J-Pop world am I expected to know/bring?

A: I don’t have much knowledge either. I will strive to give this roleplay enough authenticity by incorporating the performances/songs/dances of famous K-Pop artists without (hopefully) making it too tedious. This will largely depend on your interest as well. This could be as simple as a harem fuckfest between idols and their manager, or detail their rise to stardom through their personal trials and tribulations.

Q: Your character’s name is Japanese, but you’re using K-Pop groups?

A: Yeah well, I’ll mix and match what I want okay? In this content, K-Pop/J-Pop will be used interchangeably.