Bias wrecked

There are cameras everywhere, but they don’t really care about you.

You’re in front of a room filled with thousands in attendance, but most of them don’t care about you. And the very few that are actually there for you—you certainly couldn’t tell apart when they’re all the way at the back.

The audience erupts in cheers, but they’re not meant for you.

It’s fine. Nothing new, really. You’ve learned to liken the noise to artificial, pre-recorded cheers, the ones you’ve been listening to for the last couple of years. Perhaps the day will come when these people will be screaming your name, but the chances are as low as you being on that stage to begin with.

The winners say their little thanks of appreciation to the fans, delivered with concise and flawless execution, as if it had already been decided beforehand. Knowing the other nominee’s absence, it likely seems to be the case. Then again, this is already their 15th music show win after debuting a little over a year ago. On the other hand, your group debuted right at the same time they made their comeback. It would be considered reckless, downright stupid in the hands of a relatively larger company, but this is some fresh start-up with you and your members as their first experiment. You gain fans, and the sales are surprisingly decent for a new boy group from a completely unknown label, but otherwise, you’re another name that has Nugu Promoterlabeled all over it.

It’s a volatile profession where only the rich get richer. You don’t even know if you’ll even make it past the end of the year. Any hopes of public attention, let alone a music show win is basically blind optimism at this point.

While your peers around you will continue with their promotions, this is your last one. Two weeks for a newly debuted group sounds sacrilegious, but money is a scarcity. Using recycled outfits for the last two shows should have been a dead giveaway, a glaring red flag, that you’re in deep waters, but nobody cares.

Really, no one does. Ask anyone in that room and they’ll probably think you never actually existed.

You’re smiling, acting as if the dozens of cameras are pointed right at you, but in reality, you’re just empty space.

You’re just happy to be there.

So when the encore plays, everyone leaves the stage, and after you exchange courtesy bows with the seniors that go overlooked in favor of their more recognizable peers, the heavy weight of being an idol is removed. Your lips loosen up, your eyes rapidly blink; one by one, you’re peeling off the mask, the persona that is required of any performer. All at once, a million things spring to mind. The members, the fans, the company, your future—it’s all things you have to worry about. It’s wise not to think about any of it, but you can’t help but wonder if you were better off not chasing your dreams if you knew this was where you’d end up.

Still, it does have some rewards.

Even though the cameras catch you in the act, and it’s broadcasted out for everyone to see, you’ve been peeking at the women beside you. That’s one benefit of being a nobody; there’s no public outrage or melodramatic outcry, and the few that notice play it off as some kind of inside joke. Anyone else in your position would facing the prospect of career suicide. It’s still unbelievable that the same idols you’ve watched and inspired you to pursue that dream are at an arm’s reach. Competitive releases be damned, you’d happily go unnoticed if it meant you’d end up next to some of the hottest idols right now.

Passing along a few hallways to your dressing room, you’re reminded of another blessing: that you don’t have to waste five minutes of your time doing superfluous Tiktok challenges. There’s a pair of guys that barely know each other performing some point choreo they clearly googled on the spot, and you can evidently discern by their deadpan expressions that they don’t want any part of it. Of course, it’d be hypocritical for you to say you’re better—you’ve been forced into it—but it serves as a cue to hurry up before you get dragged along too.

Regrouping with your members at your dressing room, they’re slumped back on the lone couch, completely drained of their energy. They’ve been in performance mode since dawn. Better for the group’s overall health that there’s nothing else after this, but worse for your overall popularity. You need to get out there more, but that’s beyond what your company can provide.

“Great job everyone,” says your leader, peppy as he’s always been, but the members don’t reciprocate his energy. It’s deflating from every angle. His attitude mirrors yours: blindly optimistic about the group’s potential success. However, you recognize the reality of the situation. You feel bad. “We all deserve a rest after that.”

Sure enough, they’re right ahead of him, proven by the loud snores that fill the room. Another demoralizing response. It’s painful and awkward to watch. His efforts to uplift the team are completely genuine, only to be met with such lackluster reception. It’s the story of the promotions so far: trying your damned hardest, performing as if your lives are on the line, only to come up short of what you’ve worked hard for and looking defeated when you head backstage.

This is the price of being sold a plastic dream. This isn’t your first rodeo, either. You started from a relatively big company, put yourself out there when survival programs came knocking at your door, but it ultimately led to nothing. The label must have seen the writing on the wall when they dropped you after you were eliminated on the first evaluation. It’s cold, it’s callous, but it’s ultimately business, nothing personal. You probably should have seen the signs too, but your stubbornness has you believing in miracles. Hey, it worked out for a few forgotten names before. Anything is possible.

Suddenly, a manager walks into the room, phone in hand. Right. There’s a scheduled livestream for your fans in less than an hour. None of you get access to your phones until you reach 50,000 album sales, chart in the top 100, or win a music show—none of which seem likely to happen at this rate. He gives the phone to your leader and tells him to get everyone ready before promptly leaving again.

“Excuse me, I’ll just go and clean up. I won’t be long,” you say gently to your senior, who simply waves you off and allows you to leave.

—————

The SBS building isn’t a huge one, at least compared to the KBS building, but you might as well appreciate every moment you’re lost inside it. You don’t know when you’ll ever step foot inside its corridors again, if ever.

So, when you happen to walk past a room you have no business being close to and cross paths with an idol, it must be fate. The dream isn’t dead—for now.

“Hey!” Her little voice suddenly snaps you from your wandering mind.

You impulsively bow, completely taken by surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry— wait!”

After a brief exchange of formalities, she meets your eyes with a familiar smile. “ Yes?”

You swear you’ve never felt your heart beat out of your chest this rapidly, yet the feeling is only starting to sink in. A reminder that you’re still carrying those innocent dreams with you.

“ Chaewon!” You shout her name out so loud it’s practically demanding attention. Both your hands cover your mouth almost immediately. It’s laughable how painfully obvious your excitement is upon being recognized— and who wouldn’t be? She giggles and smiles widely back, and you forget you’re also an idol like her—not some fanboy who only sees her occasionally behind a screen. A less successful, less recognizable one, but still an idol.

“Oh? You look kinda familiar.” Chaewon raises an eyebrow, inches her warm face a bit closer. She scans you as if you’ve got something that ticks. And as if that wasn’t enough of a validation, she adds, “I don’t remember what group you’re from, but you look cool.”

“ Um —well thank you, that means a lot.” Whether she meant it or not, the way you helplessly stumble through your words says it all. Knowing her schedule, her success, and everything else in between, you’re probably the least of her concern.

Her eyes suddenly sparkle; the pieces are starting to come together. “Of course! I remember now!” Her hands are folded together, her tone earnest and respectful, even though you’re supposed to be a nobody. No wonder she’s one of your biases and one of your inspirations in pursuing an idol career. Even though you’ve shared the stage a handful of times already, this feels like the peak of your existence, and it’s all downhill from here. “We watched your performance while waiting. You were great!”

This is too much to digest. You’re supposed to be back in your own dressing room by now, but here you are, consumed by your love and admiration for an idol being reciprocated back to you. You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward, let alone end it. Forget that her members are on the other side of that door, probably overhearing the conversation. They’ve got new new material to pile and make fun of, but fuck that. She doesn’t seem to mind standing here all day either.

“Wanna record a challenge with me?” she asks, and you can’t turn down this one in a million opportunity, no matter how much you despise the concept and everything it stands for. You’re nodding, and the level of enthusiasm you show betrays your code so easily, it’s borderline criminal. It’s Kim Chaewon, after all; you’ll break any rule just for her.

—————

Safe to say, there’s levels in this industry, and you’re practically placing an open target on yourself for everyone on the internet. That isn’t to say you’re not trying, it’s just very obvious that Chaewon clearly outperforms you. It’s the sort of gap that generates more questions than answers. You’ve already written down the inevitable comments from Twitterand Panchoa in your head: He went to the Jay Park school of performing! Free Chaewon from these nugus! Why is Chaewon dancing with a MAN? Among many, unsavory variations.

It’s all in good fun, at least between you two. You miss a step, miss another, quickly fall behind to the song, and it’s utter disrespect to the artist inviting you to perform with her. Nevertheless, she plays it off with a laugh, helping you through the motions until you end up with a serviceable final cut. It’s not going to break the internet, and it certainly won’t bring your group any attention, but it’s watchable—at least, you believe it is.

(Except you can only last a second watching yourself struggling to keep up before you look away.)

“Looks great! Everyone’s going to love this one,” says Chaewon, looking at your twentieth recording smiling, beaming with optimism that you’ll somehow get a share of attention for doing this when in reality, she’s the only one getting clout. “Do you want to record your song next?”

You’re well past your limit. You don’t make exceptions for that. “I’m good! I think that’s enough Tiktok for the day.”

“ Heh.” Chaewon returns her phone to her pants’ pocket, chuckling at your response. “I get it. Tiktok challenges are so exhausting.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like for you then.”

“ You have no idea.”

Moments pass without a word. Dilly-dallying at some isolated corridor is fun when you’re with someone you admire, but you both have schedules to fulfill. Her managers are probably fuming right now; even a five minute absence may have thrown off the rest of their day’s agenda. Time is their biggest scarcity—a resource you wish they weren’t lacking.

“I’ve kept you away longer than they want, probably,” you say, weaving around the idea that you don’t want to let her go just yet. “But it’s been fun.”

“ Right.” Her eyes look ahead with alarming focus. She sees nothing, but they’re glinting as if she struck gold. “We have enough time to do one more thing.”

Chaewon turns around to grab you by your cheeks. You’re halfway to holding her arms when you suddenly stop. This is foreign. This feels—good. You like her warmth radiating all over your face. You’re about to mouth your foremost thought into words. What are you doing? is etched all over your lips, but she’s right ahead of you, answering that question with a resounding statement.

She kisses you, and it spirals out of control faster than your presumed career.

It’s so abrupt, so out of character. Suppress it all you can, you find no other urge than to give to your baser instincts. You hum as she passionately pulls you close, wanting more territory to sink in. She bites your lower lip. It’s mine now, says her narrow eyes that pierce through your soul, as if persuading you to give up. No. You’ve already raised the white flag.

Your hands explore and roam her back. Her outfit provides so much skin, yet leaves enough for your imagination to fill in the gaps. Hips, waist, and butt—you find your hands firmly groping at them more than any other part of her tight, lithe figure. She moans, she rasps against your neck, she finds solace in your arms, embracing the sudden sensations pulsing through her body. “ Fuck—”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here,” you whisper in her ear, your eyes circling the corridors for signs.

She kisses your side, pulls you closer to her, unwilling to let go. She’ll hug you into submission if she needs to.

“This happens all the time around these parts,” she replies, tone flattering. Unreasonable of an excuse it may be, the loud emptiness of the place provides sufficient evidence to support her. “Nobody gives a shit.”

“But what about the —”

She interrupts you with a deep kiss on the lips. No amount of convincing will change her mind. It’s settled. From there, your instincts do the rest.

At first, you find it difficult to pull yourself away from her kiss. Her lips taste sweet, heavenly, and everything you’d expect from a sweet-faced cutie like Chaewon. Her hand grips the back of your neck, keeps you still, keeps your gaze lingering on hers. A devilish smirk on her lips forms while she continues to crash into you, her eyes pleading you to stay perfectly still—like you have anywhere else to go after this.

“God, I didn’t expect someone like you to be this— ” Chaewon interrupts you with another direct kiss, as anticipated. You’re still talking; she’ll have to tape your lips with hers if she wants any progress, but maybe that’s her goal. “— needy.”

Her grin widens, barely suppressing a giggle, as if this is common knowledge. “ Mmm. You’ll love being an idol, then.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious and confused. “Huh? What do you mean?”

She pushes you into her, bearing the brunt of your weight that you end up crashing forward against the wall. Your shared gasp and grunt is mild compared to the thunderous thump that reverberates throughout the hallway. If no one had a clue till now, now there’s arrows pointed in your direction.

“You’ll enjoy this job.” Chaewon then pushes you away, leaving you even more hazy. Holding out her arms, she follows, “Now take my clothes off, will you?”

“ Really? Here?” Your eyes dart left and right, cautious and tense. Forget about your nonexistent career; you’re thinking about how it will affect hers.

“ Relax. They don’t care, like I said,” she replies, calm and collected, like this is nothing new to her. She must be doing this often to the point where she has full confidence to pull these acts on the regular. You’re gradually putting two and two together, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is wrong. “It’s all right. Let me ease you into it.”

It’s bewildering—sacrilegious outright—but you can’t look away. She truly embodies their fearless concept. Pants and underwear slide down her legs smoothly before she kicks them aside. Your gaze lingers at the crumpled clothes on the floor, jaw slacked in utter disbelief. Kissing and dating is one thing, but to watch an idol openly undress is on a whole other plane of fictitious you previously thought never existed.

“C’mon. This top is yours,” says Chaewon with a smile, guiding your hand toward one of the straps of her bra. It takes a little while to snap you from your daze, but when you finally look past the insanity of the moment, your inhibition slips. You’ll let the moment lead you to its intended climax.

So it goes. Except for the cuff on her left arm, Chaewon stands completely naked before you, emboldened and amused by the shock and awe gripping your soul. For the most part, you’ve mostly come to terms with the madness of it all, but you’re shaken up to your very foundations. Everything you know is completely tipped on its head.

Her words ring inside your head, loud and clear. You’ll love being an idol. If this is what the idol life entails, then all that blood, sweat, and tears was completely worth it—even if only for this one moment.

—————

Chaewon’s fingers run through your hair, having abandoned any semblance of subtlety by the loud mewls and whines that leave her lips, while you admire her slutty little figure. You don’t intend to rush through the moment, not when there’s so much creamy skin to feast on. Neck, collarbones, and breast—you slowly wander down her body, giving each part its rightfully due praise. She’s smaller and shorter than you; you can easily sweep her off her feet and ruin her, but an idol like her deserves to be worshiped. She knows how much attention she draws and she fucking loves it.

“ I never— ” A kiss on her creamy skin. “ Expected you— ” and again. “ To be so—” and another. “ Fucking hot.”

“ Mmm. Not the first time I’ve heard it,” whines Chaewon, moaning as you drool all over her toned belly. She grabs at the collar of your shirt, recognizes that you’re near that tempting, forbidding zone. It does little to distract when her body demands attention at all times.

You finally reach her core, see how incomprehensibly wet her pussy is. Surely she’s getting some between tiresome schedules, whether it’s from her members or managers or other idols. Why she wants you of all people, you have no idea, but you’ll certainly oblige.

“ Mmm, fuck—mmm!” Chaewon’s whine rises a pitch higher, nails digging into the fabric of your shirt as you dive into her splayed cunt without hesitation. Squeezing your hands into her thighs, you lap her folds up and down, up and down. Slick fills you, pools down your lips and chin, loosely spills onto the floor—as if the lewd screams reverberating throughout the floor aren’t enough of a dead giveaway.

Looking up, you closely observe how she crumbles so quickly. It’s a beautiful trainwreck to see. There’s a hint of cuteness from the gleeful smile etched on her lips. Face completely flustered, body tingling with all-consuming bliss as you feast on her sensitive core. Between frantic whines, she gazes down while you eat her, meet halfway, and there’s nothing but toned variants of profanities and wanton pleading dripping from her tongue.

“More. Fuck. So good. Don’t stop.”

She sighs, rests her shoulders down as she melts into you. Wrapping a leg around your neck, your tongue flattens against her pussy. It’s soft, it’s wet, it’s everything you need. You drink her clean like she’s water in a desert. Her raised thigh quivers, and the trembling arouses you, pushes you deeper into her sweet nectar for you to freely consume. Every motion on her tender clit drives Chaewon crazier by the second, making her scream wildly, losing herself in bodily ecstasy.

Her breath tenses and shortens. The notion of your tongue bringing her to ruin causes her to grind her hips against your face. She’s making sure you take her body and make it yours. It’s hot, it’s heavy, it drives her torso against the wall, shaking the very foundations of the floor you’re eating her out on.

“ So—close,” she barely manages to huff out, one eye looking at you consumed by lust and determined to eat her clean. Your response is maintaining the steady pace you lick and pleasure her cunt, and it sends her spiraling back out of control. She rolls her head back, almost hurting herself against the wall, and she trembles, and shakes and —

“ Shit!”

The world around you fades. You drown under a violent gush of slick and wet juices. The overwhelming flow of her heat spills all over the floor. Chaewon violently quakes as you relish in her tight, suffocating warmth. She’s overcome by her orgasm, completely flushed in a haze, gripping the back of your skull with her sharp nails, holding on for dear life.

“ Jesus,” she mutters between deep breaths. “ That mouth of yours—”

“ Mmm.” One more lick of her cunt before you regretfully leave. It sends an aftershock that sends chills all over her body. Kissing up to her toned belly as her hanging leg gracefully lands on the ground, you follow, “I never expected idol pussy to taste this good.”

Drained, she sighs and lowers her head, taking a moment to collect herself. “I can’t imagine what that cock is like.”

Silently chuckling, you lift yourself off the ground and begin to fiddle with your zipper. “Why don’t you find out?”

Almost immediately, Chaewon’s strength returns to her and you both change positions. She falls to her knees as quick as gravity slides down your pants. Wrapping both hands around your boxers, your raging erection springs free when she rips the intrusive fabric off you. Free from the discomfort of having to hold yourself back, you plant a hand on her frazzled hair.

“Suck my cock, Chaewon.”

“That was always the plan.”

The confident smile on your face after she says it drops for a groan when she grabs you by your base. Her fingers slowly but firmly wrap around your cock like a snake, casting you in a dizzying spell. It leaves you lightheaded, has you holding her hair tightly like she did yours, and forces you against the wall for support.

Your moan overpowers the initial hum she makes when she slips your cock inside her mouth. No teasing, no pretense. She takes you in right away, her patience completely tossed aside from your agonizing build up. It’s a brutal, crushing feeling. Her lips are anything but gentle when she takes you deep in her mouth, in addition to the grip of her palm on your full balls.

“ Jesus! Too much!” You cup Chaewon’s face, finding yourself unable to face her, enraptured by a simultaneous shot of pain and pleasure—much to her delight. Being a senior, you’d assume she’d be gentle and gracious enough to have some control. “Take it easy, Chaewon.”

She releases your cock from her mouth with an audible pop, your tip pooling with her spit down to your hilt. “First time I’ve ever heard that from an idol. Everyone likes it rough.”

“Yes, but —”

“Tell me when I’m being rough and I’ll ease up, got it?”

Chaewon smiles, and it’s the strongest sign of reassurance that keeps you from falling, even if the world ends tomorrow. Quite the juxtaposition when she reinserts your cock inside her mouth, attitude gleeful, like it’s an honor to have such a thing between her pretty lips. There’s no complaint— and why would you even consider the thought; you have one of the most talented and popular idols sucking your cock —even when your tip scratches her throat, sending repeated pulses of shock and pain that immediately part for suffocating pleasure.

“ Oh, oh my God—fuck— ” Her hair’s turned into a makeshift handlebar by how much you’re gripping onto them for dear life. Closing your eyes, you let ecstasy wash over you, allow that rapid growing knot in your stomach drive you wild. It’s excruciating, but so intoxicating. You want to say something in protest, like she promised, but you recognize the possibility of missing out on feeling this fucking good again. “ Y-you’re incredible, Chaewon.”

She hums with amusement watching you fall apart. It’s the story of your life so far: an unexpected build up that ends with a predictable outcome. You wouldn’t be surprised if this moment follows every other script. That’s how fate works. Luck can only take you so far.

So it shocks absolutely no one when you push your luck again, trying to alter destiny. “ Keep going, Chae. You feel so fucking good.”

Her suction grips you, leaves you weak in the knees. Both your hands desperately cling to her hair; you’re threatening to rip her locks when you drag your fingers off. What should mostly be Chaewon’s work is now shared by your hips, lightly thrusting and pumping your cock deep into her needy mouth. It doesn’t faze her in the slightest; in fact, she more than welcomes your effort. She twists her lips into a discernible smirk, watching you fall for her like everyone else.

It’s teasing, it’s mean, it’s borderline cruel. Her fingers coil around your shaft again. It’s clear who’s piloting the ship; after all, she’s your senior, so it’s not like you have any other choice but to yield. You get the shivers, unsure of whether it’s from the constant sensations jolting your entire body or from the serious gaze she flashes you. She makes it vivid; she’s fucking her mouth on your cock, not the other way around. Observing your rigid response, her eyes linger, watching every little muscle shake and tremble, as if expecting some kind of result.

And she almost gets it.

Sweltering, smothering heat envelops you. Out of control into a freefall. Words are unnecessary to express how close you are, barely hanging on by the thinnest of threads. Even when you try to mouth I’m cumming, it only comes out as air. Unable to keep your eyes off Chaewon, the earnest cocksucker she is, you close them, clearing your thoughts. But that proves to be impossible when she makes it so wet, so melodic, and so filthy—an all-out assault on your senses, poking through the last of your defenses.

Fuck.

You finally slip. In the throes of your orgasm, your mind doesn’t register the groan you utter that may as well be heard by the entire building. Chaewon’s name drips from your lips, falling in between a sea of inundated moans. Its delivery is very clear, but it rings through your ears as nothing but a mere afterthought. She giggles and chuckles as you cum for her, swallowing up almost everything down her throat.

Your eyes reopen to a wondrous sight. Chaewon’s face is mostly coated with your hot, thick, sticky sheen. Her slick tongue laps away at her chin, at her cheeks, while spreading your cum between her fingers. Hair beyond fixing, she brushes it off, but it proves to be annoying—doesn’t matter in the end. She catches you staring, recognizes the filthy position she’s in, and plays into the act. Hand gripped on your cock, she licks you clean while it throbs and withers away.

“Goodness, Chaewon.” You comment matter-of-factly, resting a hand on her shoulder, bending your knees out of exhaustion. “You’re unquenchable.”

She gives your cock one final kiss before propping herself back to her feet. “It’s a stressful job, but I love it. Especially when it’s a cock like yours,” she giggles, “ It makes my day worth it.”

Grinning at her response, you’ve never felt any more validated. As you recover from your orgasm, there’s a sense of uncertainty lurking over your shadow. A sudden realization hits you. “ Oh God— ”

Chaewon seemingly reads your mind, laughing at your newfound struggle. “ Mhm. This pussy could have used your cock inside it. I wished we had more time. Too bad.”

It now dawns on you that you won’t ever get the opportunity. You were so fixated on her excellent blowjob that the thought never came up—it did, but it’s too little too late. The only response you have is one simple but emphatic and drawn out ugh.

“Be a good junior and grab my clothes, will you?” says Chaewon, grinning radiantly. Bitter as you are, you can’t turn down her request. Grumbling through gritted teeth, you hastily grab the neglected heap on the floor and hand her outfit back. You don’t make eye contact with her through it all, lest the sourness of the moment grow.

“Thanks.” She kisses you on the cheek while you struggle to smile through your pain. “Until next time.”

Her departure doesn’t process in your mind for a little bit. The thought doesn’t occur to you that she left you as is, walking around the building completely naked. Knowing her, she likely does this on the regular, or that everyone is numb to it by now.

Slowly but surely, you put yourself back together. The phone you’ve quietly smuggled within your pants rings, but you leave the caller hanging. When you finally muster up the strength to dig through your pocket, a stream of notifications flood your screen. 42 texts—37 from your manager, including six missed calls and five from an unknown number.

Forget that you missed the scheduled livestream by around 20 minutes. By the time you return to your dressing room, the place is already cleared out. You don’t bother calling your manager or any of your members. Management probably terminated your contract already on some bullshit grounds. It’s fine; you don’t believe you’ll make it past your debut, let alone the rest of the year.

Instead, you read through the anonymous number, and the messages leave you feeling giddy again.

> I knew why you looked so familiar! Yunjin told me all about you. You both attended the same school in America! How cute!

> Here’s the address to the HYBE building. Tell no one, obviously. Don’t keep us waiting:P

> kisses,

> k.cw. <3