On short notice

The 2 AM call time sucks.

You should be in bed right now, getting some needed rest, refreshing your mind and body for the days ahead. Even more so since it’s the holidays, the time of year where patience and discipline are pushed to their absolute limit.

Instead, this is your life, your 9-to-5. Standing out in the cold winter air, several bags in tow, waiting for the client and beginning the day’s proper.

Yes. She starts her day at 2 AM. She’s a goddamn freak. The only people you know who get up this early are so-called ‘business influencers’ and professional athletes.

Yujin is neither of those. She’s a singer, first and foremost. More importantly, she’s got more mileage on her body than you think.

And so:

“Sorry I’m late!” Yujin greets you cheerfully as she meets you at the apartment lobby entrance, bringing along a few bags of her own.

“You sure you got enough sleep?” you ask, knowing damn well her energy equals that of someone who’s got their arbitrary eight hours of rest. Professional courtesy, after all.

To your lack of utter shock, she’s more than ready. And judging by her appearance—trackpants, sports bra, training jacket, the not-so-subtle flaunting of her toned abs—this is her morning routine.

“Sorry for coming in on such short notice,” she suddenly remarks, a reminder of how you’ve ended up in this position: a representative from her company—a manager most likely—coming into contact looking for what’s basically a personal assistant after the last one resigned prematurely. Something about the unforgiving schedule that apparently she’s been following for a few years now.

It’s not your usual graveyard shift; if anything, it’s the kind of schedule that’ll send anyone to an early grave.

So it’s a wonder how Yujin manages to keep herself fit while seemingly having a routine like this. There’s no weariness, no sign of exhaustion emanating from her. She’s in peak, functioning condition.

And she’s not even a professional athlete.

“Yeah, no worries,” you say, gripping onto your bag a little tighter than usual. Out of fear, maybe just a lingering sense of dread. But she seems all warm and friendly from what you’ve seen so far. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Bike ride,” she says, opening one of her bags to reveal a folded bicycle, at which you open yours. Management had sent a laundry list of things to bring—and this was your first day on the job.

“How far are we going?” you ask.

“Something light. A nice 40 mile bike ride from here to the mountains.”

You almost spit out the non-existent water in your mouth. Your eyes widen in shock. “What?”

“I know, right?” she quips so casually, like it’s something normal people do everyday. “You can keep up, can you?”

That’s right: Yujin does this on the regular, which explains her toned figure. While most people are fast asleep at this time, she’s readying for a marathon. A championship game. A gold medal.

It takes a moment to find the right words. “Yeah—yeah, of course.”

She breaks out into a big, admittedly sweet grin. “Of course you can. You’re my new assistant for a reason!”

It doesn’t matter how much cardio you do. How many miles you cover, how many sprints you take part in: nothing can prepare you for 40 miles straight on the road.

And that still doesn’t account for the climbing, the mountainous incline in question making it hard to maintain your current pace.

This run might just break your own personal record. And your legs. And maybe your spirit.

“You okay?” Yujin asks you an hour and a half later.

You look at her incredulously, almost disbelieving the absurdity of the situation. “Are you serious?”

13 miles in and you’re nowhere close to reaching whatever destination she had in mind. Cycling up a curving hill, accompanied by only the streetlights and the city far off in the distance—you’re damn sure you’ll see the sun rise before you even make it anywhere close at this rate.

You can see the confusion etched across her face, the fact she might just be genuine in her question: “You want me to push you harder?”

This fucking girl.

You can’t help but laugh through ragged breaths and wheezing, strained gasps. “Yujin—”

“You’re right.” And, oddly enough, she looks pretty concerned. “Want to take five? My treat!”

Thankfully, she stops cycling and pulls over to a spacious lay-by. If you were gonna say something, it would’ve been lost in a fit of breathlessness.

Getting off her bike, taking the initiative to set up a makeshift table with her seat—replete with a plastic bowl and seats—from out of her bags. While she’s got her back turned, you take it as an opportunity to gather your thoughts and breathe.

What are the odds of you, a normal individual, assigned to the likes of An Yujin: a member of one of Korea’s top groups, a role model for all sorts of girls. All by chance and happenstance. It’s the stuff of fairytales.

Sure, she’s incredibly nice. That’s to be expected, considering her line of work as an idol. She’s amiable, knows what she’s doing, and takes responsibility.

The same couldn’t be said, however, about how hot she is. That’s an unfortunate, unaccounted-for truth.

More to the point, there’s some weird, indiscernible appeal from how she’s acting right now. All this effort, this preparation for a quick snack of fruits and slices of various cheese to pair with otherwise ordinary bread.

“Made this myself, I’m sorry,” Yujin remarks with a chuckle, spreading a block of cheese with a knife on a cracker, the pieces neatly stacked by her side, paired with some chopped carrots. “Gotta monitor my diet still—”

“It’s all good,” you say, finally catching up to her, completely spent, your legs aching. “Wow.”

“Take a seat. And let me know if it’s alright,” she urges. And she takes the chance to grab some herself, handing you a bottle of water in the process.

Now that you’re sitting down, just about to relax in your seat, your focus becomes attuned to Yujin’s assets. Her sleek physique, how the glow of the nearby streetlights casts shadows across her fit, shapely figure. You’ve never really been that into gym junkies or people who’d obsess over physical health and fitness like that—

And yet, it’s strangely beguiling to observe her eating the crackers slowly.

You observe as she tilts her head upwards, opening her mouth—you can just see her toned jaw clench—swallowing slowly. She bites down on the crunchy snack, and, from the way she moves her head—chewing, relishing the food she’s made herself.

And you catch yourself staring at her bare, exposed body: her midriff, the outline of her abs in the darkness; her defined biceps flexing ever so slightly every time she turns her arm; even the tight band of her sports bra hugging the curve of her perky, voluminous breasts, her nipples poking from beneath. A reminder that you’re still out in the cold.

“So what do you think?”

Yujin is such a welcome, perfect sight. All sultry and lascivious in how she eats so casually yet sensually. A reminder that you’re still in a state of weakness, winded, helpless. It feels too sinful for words.

“Huh?” You blink twice, hoping to remove any dirt in your vision. Because she’s now in front of you, leaning forward ever so slightly. Close up in your personal space, meeting your gaze. A grin on her lips, her teeth showing through a dark smile, looking at you expectantly, her hands on the chair she just set up for you.

There’s an embarrassing amount of effort that goes in keeping your jaw shut tight, biting into a cheek. She’s inches, less, from you—it’s fucking nerve-wracking.

She makes a vague, nonsensical gesture towards her meal, breaking you out of your daze.

“Oh, I don’t mind, I’m more of a homebody when it comes to food,” you respond, suddenly blitzing through your gifted snack. “Though, these look really nice. Impressive, considering our environment.”

“Suit yourself,” she hums, sliding the spread closer, making sure she can be at the very front of your sights. And you make sure she gets a good show as well, taking the cracker piece in front of her slowly. Biting into it, and feeling it between your tongue—she stares and smiles approvingly, shifting her weight on her elbows. “That’s why you’re my assistant now.”

“Thanks. How much further?” you manage, letting the crumbled food dissolve. It takes all your willpower not to look directly into her eyes; Yujin leans in just close enough for her to have an unobscured view of you.

“Not long. I think.”

Her gaze drifts over the bowl, prompting you to do something; your fingers instinctively grab a peach from the platter. It’s like your eyes have a mind of their own: Yujin’s body—you swear she’s deliberately swaying her hips, rolling her toned legs around. Her curves have no business being in your head at all.

She’s grinning through the corner of your eye, observing you eating her snack so hesitantly; she leans forward, an air of satisfaction emanating from the confident tilt of her chin. It’s getting distracting.

“Everything alright?”

There’s the tiniest hint of suspicion and amusement in Yujin’s voice. Just something about the tone, the edge in her voice. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine.”

“Your mind seems to be elsewhere.”

Yujin presses a slender finger against your temple, an abrupt tap on the forehead. Just the slightest touch of her skin sends a shiver, a tingle down your spine; a twitch of an arm or leg—inconclusive. A fleeting impulse.

But she lingers. Gently pushing, scraping against the side of your head, and you can hear the click, the click, her nails snapping away on a strand of loose hair. A languid, casual sigh escapes her lips.

“Hey. Wake up.” She grabs an arm, snapping you back to reality, as if by muscle memory.

“Sorry,” you reply quickly and sheepishly. The flush of embarrassment climbs up the neck, rises and spreads across your face. “Yeah. Weird. Um—”

The faint, beeping notification sound echoes throughout the still air—her eyes shift focus, seemingly intrigued. She perks her head up ever so slightly in interest.

“Check that for me?”

“Wha—”

“You got your phone right?” Yujin chirps, sliding over to the backrest. “Well, can I take it for a sec? If you’re not busy, of course—”

“Don’t mind it,” you respond, searching through the small pouch pocket on the inside of your pants, withdrawing your phone. It’s too difficult, awkward to have her watching intently as you search for the device—your movements, every little motion, feel so jittery. Like your entire being, your very soul, is suddenly being monitored.

The contact: Yujin herself, who was coincidentally standing over the horizon as well, the brightness from her device’s flashlight visible. A quick look over and she has the audacity to blush at whatever she sees.

“Wait—oh. Oops,” she murmurs, bringing a hand to her lips. An act, a gesture to hide her smile. “Um, that was for my previous assistant. I forgot.”

You raise a brow and Yujin bites into her lower lip, shifting in place: she’s straddling her legs, intertwining both hands together, awkwardly gazing downwards. As if to hide some shame, maybe some lingering embarrassment from a certain photo sent on her part.

She laughs—a high-pitched, short giggle. Her fingers move closer to each other, pulling taut, pale white flesh. Nails scraping skin.

“Do I have anything else to see?” you tease. A dumb move, but maybe not entirely, judging by her reaction.

“Nope.” Yujin meets your gaze once more, her composure regained—like she didn’t send a candid photo of herself on the beach. Practically naked.

“Worth a shot,” you shrug.

“Keep dreaming, smart guy. Okay. Ready to continue?” she grins, somehow a sign you were looking forward to.

“Whenever.”

You return the device, and in return, receive a deceptively tender brush against your fingertips.

And then the sharp pang, the unbearable feeling of heat spreading across your chest.

Something strange about her eyes, how they’re suddenly all you can see; how there’s a hint of hesitation, a trace, the remnants of a smile still. A mystery.

“C'mon, Slowpoke! Let’s get moving!”

Her call snaps you from your haze, and she’s already got a fair bit of distance from you. With no further ado, you proceed to give chase, mounting your bicycle for a small respite.

That is, if the metaphorical angel on your shoulder permits.

“We’re here!” says Yujin, yelling from her lungs as she approaches the parking lot for what appears to be a vantage point of the city below. To no one’s surprise, it’s only you two, which explains her screaming.

She seems ecstatic. A madwoman, laughing as she dismounts from her bike so carelessly, letting the gears lock down and ensuring its stability through the wind. There’s nothing better to do other than to watch Yujin hop past the guardrail—she nearly tumbles from her attempt to peer off the cliff edge—and let out a deep, drawn-out cry of satisfaction and excitement.

Somehow, the last two hours flew by like they were nothing.

“Straight ahead!” she squeals. “Nice, beautiful sight. Want a look?”

That doesn’t seem like an offer.

It’s the perfect view: a large cityscape sprawled out before you, dotted buildings like tiny boxes a mile high.

But it doesn’t quite match how majestic Yujin is right now: a sweaty, weary traveler with a huge grin plastered across her face, sporting a youthful glee from atop the hillside vista, shining under the light of the rising sun. It’s the most vibrant she’s ever been, and perhaps, how she truly is.

“It’s lovely.”

“Actually, we can keep this as our routine!” she offers, drawing you back from your distraction. “We can hit a café somewhere nearby after and start off our day early—fresh and everything. That’ll make you start your job nice and properly, right?”

“Let’s not rush into that.”

Yujin tilts her head innocently. “What d'you mean?”

A better question: what are you doing?

There’s an easy way of making sense of things: that Yujin’s getting herself tangled up. Getting personal, prying, taking her time in coaxing out a response, an answer, or any words of any kind from your mouth. There’s the alternative option: maybe it’s just your tired ass thinking shit that doesn’t exist.

“The usual,” you say finally, nodding. “You know. Assistant duty. Following you around and getting what you ask for.”

“Didn’t know you were a professional babysitter.”

“Aww,” you fake cry, wiping an invisible tear from your cheek. “Well, it’s kinda what was written on the job description.”

Yujin snorts, in contrast to the poised and confident face she typically holds up. There’s a particular moment where her posture softens, where she crosses her arms and looks down to the ground. And she nods as a silent acknowledgment.

“Whatever you say. Um, how’s the work been so far?”

It’s hard to understand whether she genuinely likes you or not, because, really, you never know with people. After all, if you barely know this woman. A little over five hours, to be exact.

So you’re glad that she’s happy with your answer, which, really, you say mostly out of professional courtesy: “Great. Really exciting. Fun. It’ll get me to put everything in, and, well—maybe give me a reason to get out of bed everyday.”

The smile she beams at you feels like the biggest reward. Sure, you’ve had kind clients before, but not one with an air of cute innocence that Yujin has. Not one so disarming and trustworthy. She could really convince someone to kill or rob a bank just with a friendly conversation and a warm hug.

She gives your arm a little pat as a reward.

“Hopefully,” Yujin remarks softly, affectionately. She bites her lip and gives you a meaningful look. “You’re easy to talk to. A good listener.”

“Really,” you quip back, incredulous. “Well, that’s a first.”

Yujin seems satisfied and cheerful, and you know this is a pretty decent first impression, so now is a good opportunity to capitalize and show your usefulness.

“Maybe it’d be a good idea for us to get to know each other better then,” Yujin suggests out of the blue.

“Hopefully.”

The rest of the day is the usual: the stuff of nightmares, the kind that makes managers quit. No wonder the last one left too soon.

Practice, filming for different contents, selfies, and practice. Lots and lots of practice.

While you’re mostly there to monitor the members and occasionally help from the sidelines, you can feel the exhaustion emanating from them. Hours and hours for different award shows and gayos, covering choreographies and individual performances that take a good few hours for them to get down, along with their lines and cues.

Even with built-in breaks, the girls still look visibly beaten to a pulp when their studio session finishes. Even more so when an extra one’s scheduled right after a round of appearances. No amount of makeup can hide the exhaustion on their faces.

Especially Yujin, being the primary speaker for interviews.

At the end of the day, she’s completely spent, and, surprisingly, eerily quiet. So much so, you have to occasionally check on her during the ride home.

So you take it upon yourself to prod.

“Not in the talking mood, Yujin?”

She merely shakes her head, so evidently tired. You wonder how she’s had the will to keep smiling and move around so much during the entire day. How her body has the capacity and stamina to endure hours and hours of dancing, even with the cycling exercise you had earlier.

Today’s just practice, too. How much more when the actual festivals arrive, with constant travel and makeup added to the mix.

Yujin, and the others by extension, are on a different plane. One that’s impossibly high to attain by mere mortals.

“Exhausted?” you venture, hoping to make small talk. A method to kill time while on the freeway en route to her hotel.

There’s a sniff—short and curt—from Yujin. From the side mirror, you spot her twitching an arm, the effort to get into a new position. She flops an arm and exhales deeply. “Kind of, but—” she hesitates, before ultimately conceding, “Yeah.”

"Got plans for tomorrow?”

It takes a beat, like her brain needs an entire extra second before processing the response. You have to take a second glance to check if Yujin’s not fallen asleep mid-sentence.

“Oh, just a simple schedule, just practice,” she mumbles, her head barely able to prop itself up. “We got the hall booked for just half a day so—not that demanding compared to today at least.”

“Good,” you chuckle, fixing up the AC. Yujin slumps back into her seat and slings an arm on the headrest, like her usual postures whenever she’s bored. “At least there’s a little time for yourself, considering—”

She suddenly sighs, and you think she’s slipped into her comfortable sleep. She breathes, and you’ve never really noticed how thick, husky, and tantalising her breaths have been the entire time.

“—this won’t end any time soon, you know?”

“Will it end for real, though?”

Yujin just murmurs noncommittally. A tired groan. A drowsy little groan from deep within her lungs and throat.

Your palms grow increasingly sweaty, from how Yujin shifts uncomfortably in her chair—her lips curve into a cute pout, she mumbles inaudibly—and how she crosses her arms, which naturally leads to her long legs stretching. It’s completely harmless: her toned calf muscles sliding past, touching against the console, her toes tapping away.

“We still have the tour coming up when this is all done. I hope you enjoy flying,” she remarks.

It’s strange how you’re drawn to how her feet drag against the flooring; how she lets them dangle and twiddle, lightly swinging and bobbing. You can’t help but follow each of her movements closely, with every turn of an ankle, how she twists a wrist, stretches her thighs by spreading her legs just a smidge, showing just an inch. Just a single, flirtatious inch.

This is nothing; all she did is roll her feet around, nothing more, but you’re greatly intrigued.

“Gonna be honest, I haven’t really travelled,” you reply absently, but still aware of every tiny motion and shift that her body does in a single frame, like a reflex action: the tilt of her head; the raise of an eyebrow, followed by an arm bending and reaching upwards, sliding off her hoodie—

This isn’t exactly fair.

But when have things really ever been, especially where she’s concerned.

All while meeting your gaze, holding eye contact, there’s a burning, radiating desire beneath those sleepy eyes, glimmering through those thick black locks that cover half her vision. An awareness that’s dizzying, sickening, and strangely stimulating.

“Well, you’ve mostly been working with actors and athletes, so,” Yujin remarks, shaking off her bangs and fluffing her hair in the process. It’s unneeded and purposefully seductive, the little tosses she makes, brushing it up and over a hint of bare shoulder. “I think, anyways—am I right?”

“Yeah.” You barely respond, the grip of the steering wheel growing slippery and moist. The distance to the hotel never seemed so far until now.

And Yujin’s caught on to the little staring sessions, the attention, every single little detail and decision she’s taken. "Been to some clubs?”

She makes sure the movement’s done precisely and thoroughly. Your eyes immediately fall towards her slender, trained, sinewy fingers, skipping past her plump lips and coy, knowing grin. All done intentionally, as a deliberate show to pull every single muscle in your body taut, blood pulsating hotly, heart pounding furiously.

“Some.” The answer is brief, an attempt to steer conversation back in your direction.

“Nice! How about right now? Anything going on?” Yujin perks up, hands creeping to her shoulders and rubbing the skin like some massage, slowly. In an obvious tease. “Nothing to do?”

You manage a curt nod.

“Okay,” she whispers. And suddenly her movements halt as soon as it happened; and, after a pause, Yujin gives an exaggerated yawn. “Hm. Sorry, feeling a little lazy. Are we close to the hotel?”

A rush of panic as your focus snaps back to the road ahead, narrowly missing an oncoming taxi as it angrily honks at you. Yujin merely laughs at your near-catastrophic blunder.

“One moment,” she groans, pulling out her cellphone—to reveal a couple of notifications, all from a single messenger. “Ugh.”

“What is it?”

“Early call time tomorrow, apparently. Guess we can’t bike at dawn later.”

“Good for my legs,” you quip, letting out a bit of a chuckle.

“Was looking forward to it, actually,” she replies back, tossing her phone carelessly on the backseat. “I really enjoyed it.”

“Hey, I mean—I liked it,” you say, tilting your gaze back to her, sitting idly, folded like a sheet of paper. She gives a sheepish giggle. And the glimpse of a slight smirk as she nods approvingly.

“Do you?” Her lips part open, tongue darting over to lick them, moist and shining in the moonlight. “Good to know.”

“From what I’ve seen,” you trail off, clumsily. “Yeah.”

Yujin’s lying down on the rear seat, with all the space in the world, fidgeting her arms to arrange herself in a better, more comfortable position; the tight clothing doesn’t really help either. “Do you mind staying a bit longer? I mean, until I get settled back at the hotel.”

“Of course.”

“Great, but only if you’d want to, of course,” Yujin laughs lightly, stretching her arms again. A content, satisfied sigh. “I didn’t forget: you’re already working overtime by now.”

“After our conversation earlier, that’d just leave a bad impression on my part, right?”

“Good response,” she admits with a wink, nudging a loose foot right at the back of the chair; she grabs one of the thin plastic bags within your reach, slinging a foot over the bag in a silly, lazy manner.

“Thanks, I try my best.”

“Unrelenting spirit—that’s how we get shit done,” says Yujin enthusiastically, letting out a brief burst of energy before she crashes back down, lazily lifting her foot up and dropping it once again. Another playful nudge at the back of the seat.

And despite her feeble and lethargic expression, it feels like she’s waiting, expecting for something, anticipating: fingers wrapped around the rim of her shorts, raising her leg ever so slightly.

You help Yujin with her bags to her temporary hotel room. The same bags you’d been carrying since dawn.

“Hm.”

She’s deep in thought as you set her luggage aside. There’s an uncomfortable silence settling in the living room as you busy yourself with the arrangements, letting your eyes wander around.

It’s a humble but luxurious hotel suite, a testament to her success; perhaps a little too spacious for a short-term stay, excessive even. A couple of sleek sofas on the sides, with the obligatory, wide television fixed to the wall and placed dead ahead. And, of course, a clean, fully-equipped bathroom with all the latest necessities.

“Do you have any spare clothes on you?” she suddenly asks, tilting her gaze to one of the bags partially opened.

“There’s probably a handful of things I might have leftover at the very bottom,” you answer without missing a beat.

Yujin turns around, but her gaze looks different this time: tense, intrusive, almost demanding something from you. It’s an indescribable feeling that’s rendering you speechless. A suffocating sense that builds up as you stare back at her, trying hard to mask her true intentions, the real intent of—whatever this is.

“Well,” she starts, slipping a hand beneath her vest. She tugs a strap, and slowly drags it down from her shoulders. “Do you mind joining me in the sauna later? Bring those clothes, like I said.”

She raises a curious brow, pausing to see your reaction. Yujin bites her lip and lets out an expectant hum.

“Sure,” you say, trying to fight off your intrusive thoughts, tilting your gaze away, keeping yourself detached. Work is work. The pay is more important, though it’s a nice bonus at the end of a long day. “I mean, I don’t have a room to stay in—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she remarks, twiddling with the zipper of her hoodie, sliding it down. She doesn’t wait till they part to slip it off, revealing a black bra beneath her simple white tank top. It’s so dangerous how casual she is about it all—the invitation, the undressing—the thing that starts scandals and ruins careers. Not to mention, the short shorts she’d been wearing the whole time from the ride home. “I’ve got your room covered. All on me.”

“Uh—”

“Overtime,” Yujin mutters absently, taking a small step back, glancing your way.

“Uh-huh,” you gulp.

Her fingers seem to be gripping the rim of her underwear with a fervent, insurmountable need, all but dragging them past her thighs; you wonder just how depraved she must be. It’s a feat how long you manage not to look at the cleft of her ass, and how her poor excuse for clothes struggle to shield her most intimate parts.

It’s getting increasingly harder to feign disinterest. “So—”

“Yeah. Get out. Join me in the sauna in thirty.”

Before you can even say a word, Yujin’s pushed you out the door, slamming it shut, leaving you in a world of unanswered questions and even more twisted, confusing intentions.

Even the thirty minutes seemingly take forever. You find some solace and solitude in the calm sauna, thankfully clear of other patrons, giving you the luxury to strip naked yourself, finally relieving yourself of that lingering ache in your bones.

But it’s only a matter of time. Time.

That seems to have been frozen for a moment, and then again when you set your foot outside, the heat and humidity hanging around even in the starkly-lit halls of the hotel; everything is smooth and easygoing, much like what was happening when you followed her inside.

She isn’t visible at first, but her presence was never in doubt, and it’s proven true once you set foot inside.

There she is, perched along the edge, in all her full glory: not a single article of clothing on her. No distractions, nothing hiding what’s truly behind that fit, graceful frame; you take the initiative to look over every single inch of her exposed body, not out of an attempt to hide anything, but a means to really appreciate the full sight.

The fluorescent light glistens above, playing tricks with her body, painting her like a picture: a work of art sculpted by the gods themselves.

Yujin stretches one limb, then another, letting them touch the sidewalls and spread apart. There’s something delectably alluring in the way her muscles move so fluidly. How her skin wraps and accentuates those well-proportioned curves of hers: from the calves to her thighs; the slender, sleek shape of her midriff; to her firm, pronounced chest, glistening under the light and drenched with water, down to the depths of her navel, drawing attention all the way to the slits where her legs join—the light hairs present enough of a hint on how wet she already is—which then draws your gaze all the way down her core, focusing on the hints of her nipples peeking out through the fog, like the very last remnants of sanity left.

Your mind is in disarray from a single glance at her inviting, willing frame, and you’re only so human.

Yujin flashes her toothy grin again, confident, satisfied with herself and the effect her actions have over you. She opens her mouth wide to speak. “See something you like?”

You can tell she’s loving this, feeling every second of it, savoring it so much. You’ve got half the mind to ravage her now, fuck her silly—take your share in this tempting offer, as a gift.

Yujin extends a finger and traces a long curve downward her body: neck, collar, her tits—she flicks them and the whole mass follows, then right between and around a pert nipple, teasing, torturing you.

“Christ, Yujin. I thought you were sweet, but this—”

Her hand settles flat between the legs, stroking the line of her pussy up and down, up and down. And her voice trails off into an unrecognizable murmur. She breathes softly. “Does it surprise you?” The movements of her finger grow faster and wider; and the moans turn louder and higher. “The person underneath the professional image?”

“It does.”

You dare take a step forward; a smirk grows and then stretches into a cheeky grin as Yujin squirms in her seat, arching her body to prop herself against the wall. Your mouth salivates; every motion she makes draws you nearer to her like a moth drawn to the flame. You’re weak, helplessly drawn to her fit, sexy body, like a moth to a flame.

She bites her lip and tilts her head.

“Can you say no to something that’s ready to go?” Yujin moans breathily, voice soft and husky, mellifluous like honey, making you weak at the knees.

One hand resting at the center of your chest, the other exploring the thick patch of hair on your navel, thumbing around as if waiting to do something. Yujin brings a single finger to her mouth and gives it a lustful lick, just shy of contact.

And you can tell it’s not just a flirtatious attempt or a ploy to get something, something you never intended to give from the start. It’s evident with each stroke, a thrust of the hips, a dip of the fingers in that waiting, soaking hole. Yujin arches and bucks her hips, gyrating wildly, and—

Fuck.

Her body moves in rhythm, groping and squeezing her breast. There’s something hypnotizing in the way she flicks a hard nipple, like it was a direct action to get you in bed with her; Yujin turns her head, slowly, slowly, exposing her gorgeous features in a mix of craze and bliss, a tight grimace.

It’s clear how eager she is with every wave of the hips and twist of the torso, a heaving, shuddering mess as you feel your control slip, letting her have her own fun, take advantage, have a go and do whatever she wants to your poor, vulnerable body.

Yujin stumbles towards you, hands sprawled across your chest; and the hint of her bare feet scraping against the warm tiles as her legs fidget, wrapping against your waist.

It’s her eyes—like a dam bursting and unleashing its raw power, engulfing you beneath its powerful surge; she whispers breathlessly, needy and desperate, lips moving closer to yours. Her sweat sticks to your skin, and there’s nothing left for you to hide, much less think.

“Oh God.”

Yujin throws herself further into you, her supple, tight chest pushing firmly into your stomach, grinding against the bulge of your cock with a furious, fervent pace. In seconds, the heat building in your gut has climbed its way up in anticipation, but your hands are frozen in place, as if Yujin has complete mastery and control over them.

“Yujin, please—”

She looks at you with a fiery gaze that tells you nothing can stop her.

Still, you try to resist.

"Please what?”

“You know what this means for both of us,” you say, as she guides your hands to her waist.

“Sure I do.”

“I’m being dead serious,” you tell her, completely straight, genuine with your concern. “Especially considering—”

“So? I know what I’m doing,” she answers, slowly grinding against you, the friction making you uncomfortable yet utterly flustered and aroused. “Don’t act like I don’t know the risks. Of course I came prepared.”

“Such as?”

“Don’t be stupid. You already know,” she replies, her eyes narrowing. You almost want her to scold you, spank you. Maybe you deserve a bit of humiliation. Maybe she would give it if you just ask for it, if only to satisfy a different sort of craving that’s been scratching at the surface.

Yujin just presses herself even tighter; her silken, smooth lips brush the bottom of your ear as she kisses it gently, her warm breaths sending shivers down your spine. You hold your breath.

She smiles as she wraps her hand around you and squeezes—her grasp, soft and firm, coaxing a hearty gasp, a burst of pleasure rising. Yujin gasps right into your ears and growls, “Just so we’re both sure we’ll remember each other after.”

And right then and there, as a confirmation, a reassurance, Yujin kisses you. Deep in the lips, pouring every ounce of passion into it. Every moment counts, every minute spent together, from the sweat-filled hours from the night before, to this.

And—

You grab her waist, tight and hard. You push back.

A deep, intimate kiss; an attempt to sate yourselves with a taste of each other—hot and fiery. You keep your tongues intertwined, twirled, caressing each other as Yujin closes in. Her feet tap at the floor, shaking in delight. You wrap a hand at her waist, fingers clawing at her slippery backside. And you’re pulled even closer—impossibly close—so close that it feels like the two of you are melting together.

Until—

You pull away.

“Convinced?” she asks.

A moment. A breather. And then:

“Just exactly why, Yujin,” you press, still unsure of what’s really going on in the back of her mind.

Yujin smirks devilishly, tugging harder at her nipples. “If not for my charm, personality, or body.”

You shoot her a look, she only snickers back.

“Now then. Get me wet,” says Yujin huskily, closing the gap as fast as she can.

She presses into the soft pillows of your mouth again, melting, meshing together, while her hips buck, brushing her sopping wet crotch against you—slippery, soaked, warm and gooey, eager for more.

“Because there’s nothing in this world that feels as amazing as getting fucked.”

Just like that, your mind turns to mush, and every inhibition is thrown out the window. With each flick of a tongue and brush of a lip, there’s only one thing on your mind—fucking her silly.

Yujin kisses you, hot and fast, pulling on your hair, drawing out moans. It feels so hot as her hands slide from your hair to the back of your neck, clutching it so firmly, holding it so dearly as if she doesn’t want the moment to end.

As much as she wants. As much as it pleases her.

Her hands are on you. Her hips press forward, bringing your body closer to hers. It’s almost painful when she pulls you tight. Her lips, moist and soft, warm and inviting—

You force a groan from her throat, your body finally tensing up at the slightest of pressures she applies to it. It’s almost a cry, almost a moan when you press further into her, driving her head back.

There are tears in her eyes. The agony is unimaginable, and yet—

And yet she welcomes it. With the slightest quiver of her lips. Her chin trembles with a smile.

There is something so beautiful about seeing her so vulnerable, and somehow the feelings become mutual as the only thing you could do is surrender to the intensity.

“Just need you to give me a good fucking. Pound me senseless until I feel numb and can’t walk for tonight. Nothing else,” she mumbles against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Can you do that?”

Your mind swirls, caught up in a haze, drunk off of her, like an endless spell that she’s placed on you. That’s the thing you could call a crush.

It’s all in the little details, the fine things you notice when looking her up close. She’s the perfect package: gorgeous looks, a great laugh, and that spark of wit. She’s not going to be someone who you’ll ever really forget, that’s for sure.

Which is exactly why, your hand slips and tugs at your growing erection.

She turns and puts her hands to the small of her back. And then, with a hand on your bulge, she brushes you against her firm, juicy ass. You just need a bit of her pussy in your face and maybe everything else would be a bit more bearable.

You bend and take in a mouthful. Your tongue swirls around, teasing her cunt with it; her juices drip down her inner thighs, a sweet, delicious treat for your insatiable mouth.

You keep the tongue flicking as you spread the lips of her ass wide, finding the little pleasure spot. It’s glistening in the misty light, a testament to just how hot and wanton Yujin has become. And in turn, she moves her hands down her body, caressing the smooth planes of her flesh, spreading, tracing her cunt and circling it slowly.

Her hands graze past her own swollen clit, dipping a finger, then two, rubbing it furiously; her other hand rubs the rim, coating it with slick juices, smearing her fingers on her throbbing cunt.

With Yujin prone like this, pussy spread wide and all—you wonder what could possibly make you stop.

Her pussy is so exposed that it’s just begging to be tasted. To be devoured.

“Such a greedy fucker.”

Yujin bites her lower lip. Her jaw stiffens. Her body tenses as you stand and plunge a finger deep inside her. Then another. It’s slippery, sucking greedily on your hand, lapping at the two digits.

It starts out slowly. Fingers plunging in and out, exploring her wet, snug hole, soon joined by a third, to really probe and see her true reactions. She relaxes, comes undone gradually.

Your movements are timed with the pulsating of her walls; her inner folds suck hungrily and clamp down on your digits, begging for a second longer inside. Yujin squirms as you rub and brush her clit. Her back arches into a half circle as her legs buckle and stretch, pushing her cunt towards you, reaching in even deeper.

You continue teasing and sucking at her inner walls, her tight, juicy cunt. Her sweet aroma fills the air as you play with her splayed, dripping core, slipping your tongue inside it, poking and prodding with abandon.

She presses her cunt against your fingers; a bit tighter, a bit harder. With a third one plunging inside the velvet passage, your palm pressing against her engorged bud, she starts panting. Softly at first; but her breath turns ragged as the feeling builds, higher and faster. Yujin writhes, convulses, arching her body back. Her neck snaps upwards; her mouth, slightly open, drips with a string of spit; her fingers dig into the sheets and twist, exposing her sharpened canines.

One hand grips your arm while the other reaches towards her ass. She fumbles as she rubs her hole, looking for the one thing she desperately wants. You bite her earlobe, letting your warm breath wash over her neck.

“Please, just put it in—”

“Not yet,” you grit out, brushing her core, drawing a deep moan from her, pushing her forward against the walls.

A bit more teasing for good measure, a reminder of the twisted status quo that normally follows precedence: you’re the assistant, but she’s bent to your will.

Yujin’s wanton display grows ever more intense as your hands move faster, deeper; she can feel your throbbing cock graze the inner lining of her slick slit, feel your chest pressed tight against her back—her breaths turn short and quick. She squeaks. Moans. Gasps. Her walls contract and squeeze; her ass twitches. Her eyes clamped shut. Her pussy stretched. And—

Right in that position.

There.

Yujin cums. Hard.

Her breath becomes ragged, heaving, filled with anticipation, ecstasy, relief. Her juices erupt in a series of hot bursts; a glorious white slick soaking the ground and the water in a puddle beneath.

She rides her high, mewls, grinds her sopping-wet cunt and ass against your cock, desperately trying to satisfy her carnal lust, her need for more, more, more.

And you realize you don’t give a single fuck.

And when Yujin feels just how hard you are, the slight rocking motion she was making against you turns into a purposeful bucking, an urgent demand to fill the aching emptiness, the craving she feels; you want that, want the pressure, the throb.

“C'mon, fill me up—” she taunts, wiggling her ass against your cock, lined against her aching core. “Just—oh fuck—”

You do exactly that—fill her to the brim with cock.

She’s so incredibly tight, so hot, so inviting, so wet that it makes you groan—fuck, the sounds, the feel—her sopping, drenched, glistening, suffocating cunt feels so good wrapped tightly around your aching shaft—how badly did you want this, Yujin, so bad that you couldn’t even see it coming.

A wave of pleasure engulfs you, hitting her back and front in succession.

“Ahhh, yes. Thank you—holy shit, thank you—that’s so big—”

With you buried deep inside, she spreads wide open for you. A familiar warmth settles upon her body, enveloping her senses, her mind.

Gasping and groaning, Yujin leans in—more, please, give me more, I need more, that’s it, more, she utters like a prayer—your hips snapping back and forth, causing the most divine sounds, so delicious and unique that they stick with you; you grunt with every thrust, pushing deeper, faster, with precision and intent. She’s wet, slick, and ready, she was so tight before; the pressure’s already building in you, so much more powerful.

“Gonna fill that tight pussy so good,” you groan as you bury your face in her damp hair, between her neck. “Give it to me, Yujin—your cunt is so fucking good. Squeeze my cock for more. Keep me hard—”

“Oh fuck yes, I will—just—wait—oh yes, more—put more—”

That’s enough for her. Her walls clench and throb with such intensity.

Yujin leans forward, arching her back; her ass, bucking; and you see her cum. You kiss her neck and shoulders, trying to placate her, to lessen the stimulation. But she’s far beyond the realm of her control; she cries out, overwhelmed, sobbing, writhing and wriggling uncontrollably as she can’t get over the sensation, the feeling, how unbelievably good it feels and how she can’t believe you’d give that.

All because of what you see in front of you.

Horny, fuck drunk, dazed and euphoric, drenched in sweat and juices.

What a fucking mess she’s become.

With her body convulsing from the aftershocks, Yujin wraps a fist and squeezes the base, rubbing it with a little pressure, squeezing and releasing a couple of times. All you want is for her to cum again—to take everything that she has left.

Yujin opens her mouth to speak and—

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing does.

Her face is frozen, not quite registering, but at the same time understanding and catching the weight of the words. It takes her a moment, a short while, before she turns to look at you and finally whispers, her tone that is oh, so different from before, “Do whatever you want with me. Fill me the fuck up.”

Her eyes darken, the pupils fully dilated. She stares. Unblinkingly.

This woman, a rising star in the field, is just horny, eager, ready to submit.

That’s it. It has to be.

All your willpower to restrain yourself snaps, and you grab her body, driving your throbbing length straight in, burying to the hilt, bottoming out with an intense rush and a roar of relief—God, that feels so amazing—slamming, pumping, plunging it, once, twice, again and again, making up for the seconds it has been gone. You’re caught in that moment—that incredible, endless, intoxicating moment.

“Shit, Yujin, I’m cumming—”

“So fucking fill me already—” she mumbles with a whining pitch, the back of her throat releasing the vibrations with an explicit hum— I fucking want it.

You grab her head, snaking your hands under her arms, grasping at the sides, wrapping them behind her breasts and tugging her nipples to the brink, squeezing, mashing, caressing them; and you lose it, unleashing an ear-shattering growl into her neck, emptying your aching balls into her stretched, quivering cunt, shooting load after load, in violent, jerky bursts, stuffing her insides to capacity.

Soaking her cunt and inner walls, each thrust causing a new spurt to erupt from your leaking tip and flood her—oh, that’s the feeling of it seeping out and dripping between her thighs, her slick soaking the surface. She can’t hold back either; she falls apart too, your cock still plugging her well, filling her tight pussy. The erotic bliss in her voice, the sensation and intimacy; that’s something that you’d both never forget, always looking back, forever fond of it, reliving the experience in the steamy air.

Withdrawing your cock from her cunt, still throbbing, shooting loose specks of cum, spreading it on her thighs and legs, you are spent, utterly depleted, like every last ounce of your stamina is gone. The ache in your muscles you thought melted in the water returns, twice as harsh as before.

You roll to the side, laid back in the water, breathing heavily. In her daze, Yujin crawls toward you, wanting to spend just one more moment, basking in the warm light of her cum drunk satisfaction. She nudges you with a face, as if to say, give me a little peck. One last gift before this session ends.

And you, like an utter fool, are only helpless but to oblige, brushing a small kiss on the back of her moist hairline—

It’s a bit more, just a tad, nothing special. No less than that.

Then—

“My room. Ten minutes.”

The command is clear, her tone leaving no room for argument. She’s already limping past, still dripping, still slick—and not from the hot water.

“Don’t bother dressing up.”

It happens a little too fast: couple of knocks on the door, then you’re pulled into the room with Yujin’s surprising show of strength, casually flexing her work ethic in the gym—next thing you know, you’re on the bed, pushed with reckless intent, and she’s already clambered on top of you, resting your lap, hands laying claim on your chest.

And just to see that, to understand, and acknowledge the hunger in her eyes—you’d be lying if that didn’t flip something, unleash something feral inside of you too.

She just can’t get enough. One round was never enough.

“Gonna fucking ride you now,” she says, leaning forward with a coy, sexy grin that steals your breath. Her hand finds your hard cock, lining it up against her wet lips. As she’s straddling you, there’s only one way to go—

And when she drops all the way down, the pressure is immediate and stifling.

You’re getting quite curious, wondering how her room is this big, a fancy five star suite equipped with a spacious master bath and an ornate four-poster king-size bed, as if she anticipated the nature of the meeting tonight and—

Then the heat in your loins comes back, spreading now to your face and cock. There’s something so arousing about the contrast between Yujin’s bossy, straightforward demeanour, her forwardness, and that delicious feeling of being inside, squeezing every inch of her tight little pussy, enveloping you.

She starts to slam her hips harder and faster, bouncing on your shaft—yes, fuck, she wants that, moaning and grunting, panting and gasping—unfiltered desire, an unquenchable lust. She just can’t help it. Like a wild horse, she can’t stay tamed for long—she loves riding it. Her face flushes; fingers rake up your chest, digging into your collarbones, scratching your nipples—the way you just gave it up so easily, letting her take over control—you didn’t even stop her from crawling over—gods, the feel—how fast and rough she gets— fuck yes.

Yujin is fucking her own brains out on your cock. Her hands are so quick and smooth on your skin, her back arching, her eyes, piercing. It’s amazing. She can feel your shaft penetrating her, plunging into her with each stroke, caressing the surface.

The sight alone would have anyone folding instantaneously, especially as Yujin has chosen to sit at an angle for maximum pleasure, exposing her aching, throbbing clit, her glistening hole. You reach out a hand to rub it, to give that extra, needed bit, and she stiffens, her walls, gripping tight.

There’s only one word to describe it: pornographic.

An unbridled level of lasciviousness, the image of the idol using her junior, mounted on your cock—now that’s something you’d love to replay in your head and dream about.

You just watch and drink it all in, reveling the show she puts on; you love this, can’t help but stare in awe, her firm breasts swinging back and forth, swaying side-to-side, her body flexing, contracting. Your other hand brushes her chest, tugging and squeezing her breasts, pinching them and flicking the tips. And fucking she loves it, grinds harder—breathes so heavy, her chest, heaving, glistening. She just won’t stop—her pace is brutal. The relentless force of her tightness. She keeps fucking herself to orgasm, forcing your cock deeper. She cries out—

Fuck, she can feel her peak building up again. There’s something, oh fuck, fuck, she can’t possibly—she thinks she’s going to break, snap, fracture if she comes any faster.

“That’s it, a little harder—more, more—give me more—”

Her pussy slaps down hard—fuck, you’re getting there, can’t think, can’t keep up—the feel of your thick length stroking and spreading her so fucking perfectly—her head falling back, her hair splaying in an arc. Yujin lifts off slightly, giving a pause, hovering just a hair’s width away, before slamming right down. You squeeze her hips, grabbing her firm ass, feeling it quiver beneath your touch, encouraging her to go a little further, a little rougher, to release that built-up tension, before pushing her, directing her to pick up her rhythm and slide her soft body against yours.

“Such a nice cock—always filling me deep inside—don’t stop—come on—let’s make it count—keep going—oh fuck—that’s so big—don’t stop, keep giving me your big fucking cock—”

In the same moment, you and she just can’t get enough, riding the pleasure, the bliss, reaching ever higher, driven mad, uncontrollably chasing the summit. Yujin rocks back and forth, your hand supporting the curve of her spine, your fingers leaving red welts across the soft expanse of her skin—you can feel the power, the strength—the delicious, delectable bounce of her full, perfect tits—there’s nothing more tantalising than the feel of Yujin grinding and rocking against you.

Pushed deep into the mattress, your legs wrapped around her waist, she slams down once again and holds. Eyes locked on hers, you grunt with need, barely hanging on.

Yujin grabs your chin and angles your head, leaning forward and capturing your mouth. It’s like she can’t decide, torn between fucking herself raw and devouring your soul, exploring you with her mouth and tongue and teeth.

She’s hungry—starving, really. You can tell by the way she squeezes her eyes shut—by the intensity of her lust-filled expression, her flushed complexion, her body craving for more and more contact.

Moving her legs up, spreading wider, she shifts.

It’s maddening.

“Fucking cumming—”

Yujin kisses harder, deeper, tongue stroking with fervour, lapping against yours—moaning in your mouth—tongue swiping, exploring every crevice. Any form of reprieve from what’s about to happen.

Her walls clamp, squeezing your cock—pulling tighter, contracting, milking your shaft; you thrust erratically, deeper and higher, no longer able to handle it, and then—

You shoot rope after rope after rope. Spurt after spurt of hot cum coating the inside of her tight pussy. Driven to ecstasy, she climaxes with you, gripping your cock even tighter and drawing your load deeper inside of her.

In that final, fleeting moment before you slip off, Yujin grabs you by the scruff, pulls back into a final kiss and bites hard. So deep that you’ll remember the sting for days and feel her touch even when you wake. She pushes in, groans. Swallows your sound, holding your mouth and plunging your tongue, savouring the moment. Then a pause as her breath slowly returns.

Sucking it. All in the kiss. Lazy. Breathless.

Yujin flashes a sleepy smile, eyes glazed with lust and filled with happiness, content to collapse down on your body, having drained her share of your load.

“The bed’s a mess,” you grumble.

She snickers, lightly scratching your sides, her pussy clenched and still holding your now withered cock.

“Can’t tell me you weren’t expecting it.”

A deep groan is the response you muster in the face of an upcoming headache. And despite the rising pressure, the fatigue starting to creep in, the slightest of movements, the rise and fall of her breaths and your steady heart beats, the throb, the warmth—they begin to lull.

“We gotta set some rules, Yujin,” you mutter, your hands lazily exploring her back. “I can't—not like this—”

“Scared? That they’ll catch us?” She catches on right away, always a step ahead, already on the case. “You’re still thinking this isn’t my first time?”

You blink. You would’ve sworn otherwise, considering her tight cunt and constant hunger.

She shoots a wry, devious smirk. “Like I’d just let any random guy into my suite. I already knew I wanted you inside of me.”

Her casual, shameless declaration elicits another low growl, a twitch in response to her teasing, and the sheer smugness of her tone, because yes—of course, it couldn’t have been possible any other way; now it’s impossible to go without having her.

The arrogant tilt to the side as if to say: gotcha.

“Look, it’s gonna be so much fun. Just wait until the tour starts. Think of it like this: you can have me. Whenever I’m free. Any position. As many times as you want. Anywhere you please. The same is true for me with you. I can have you like this— whenever I fucking want.”

“And what about—”

“Let me make it clear: I’m not in love with you. I just love fucking you. Do you feel the same way?”