#INSIDE SCOOP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

choikanghuening · 7 months ago

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Inside Scoop (or simply “If U Seek Amy”)

now playing: If U Seek Amy — Britney Spears

synopsis: You, a shy journalist, meet Yeonjun, a very successful idol, for an exclusive interview, uncovering unexpected truths about him—and yourself. Curiosity sparks connection, leading you both to explore unspoken desires and hidden sides, blurring the line between personal and professional.

pairing: idol!softdom!yeonjun x afab!journalist!sub!reader

trope: secret relationship (sorta?)/hidden wild side (is this a trope? if not, i just made this up anyways)

genre: fluff (kinda?), smut (mdni)

wc: 13k (again, i got carried away)

warnings: not proofread, use of ropes (shibari), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), slight anal oral play aka greek kiss (f receiving), protected sex, lots of praising. lmk if i forgot anything (i prob did)

elle speaks: english is not my first language, so sorry for any typos and mistakes. also im too distracted, so i probably repeated lots of words. i'll correct it later. feedbacks/reblogs/likes are appreciated.

elle speaks²: happy belated birthday to my queen britney bitch! also i've never tried shibari (i don't even think id like it tbh), so forgive me if it's inaccurate.

fic below the cut

The alarm buzzed relentlessly, shattering the fragile grip of restless sleep. You groaned, silencing it with a swipe and collapsing back onto the pillow. The morning stretched ahead like a challenge waiting to be conquered.

Freshly graduated and navigating life as a rookie journalist, you felt like a tightrope walker without a safety net. University had been a world of structure and clear expectations; now, the real world seemed like a labyrinth of unspoken rules and unrelenting demands. Every assignment felt like a silent test, every step an uphill climb.

Your cramped apartment mirrored your current state—a mix of ambition and uncertainty. A single bed with a crumpled gray duvet dominated the room, while your desk sagged under the weight of old textbooks, a laptop, and an overfilled pen cup. The beige walls offered no inspiration, but this space was yours, a testament to your quiet determination.

In the kitchen, sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting the room in soft gold. The silence was a small mercy, letting you gather your thoughts. You weren’t one to seek the spotlight, preferring to observe from the edges. Yet, you had always been persistent—someone who thrived in preparation. Your love for journalism wasn’t about fame; it was about uncovering truths and amplifying stories that mattered.

But doubt had crept in lately. Sitting on the edge of your bed, coffee in hand, you wondered if you had the grit to succeed. Your editor seemed to think so—or perhaps he simply wanted to see if you’d sink or swim. The folder on your desk, bearing the sleek logo of your publication, carried your next big test: Interview Yeonjun of Tomorrow x Together.

The name alone was enough to make your stomach flip. A global sensation with a face plastered across billboards and screens, he was known for his effortless confidence and disarming charm. Why your editor thought this assignment suited a shy, untested journalist, you couldn’t say. Perhaps it was your calm demeanor, or maybe he’d overheard you muttering about wanting “real assignments” after another fluff piece. Regardless, here you were, tasked with peeling back the layers of someone who seemed untouchable.

That night, you immersed yourself in research. Yeonjun’s public persona was magnetic—cheeky interviews, teasing smiles, and playful energy that left fans swooning. But beneath the surface, he was an enigma—a man who charmed the world but revealed little of himself.

The next morning, as your car pulled up to a towering glass building in the heart of the city, nerves churned in your stomach. The penthouse suite was as sleek and modern as its occupant, perched high above the bustling streets below. You took a steady breath, gripping your notebook and bag like lifelines.

The elevator glided silently upward, its polished interior reflecting your tense expression. Your thoughts traveled back to him, the main dancer and lead rapper of one of the most famous K-pop groups of the time. His image was polished to perfection, but standing outside the penthouse door, you felt like discovering if there was more underneath the surface.

Shifting your weight nervously, you rang the doorbell.

The door swung open, and there he was—Yeonjun, dressed in an oversized white shirt and loose sweatpants. His slightly tousled hair suggested he hadn’t bothered to style it, a stark contrast to the polished idol you had expected. The casual image caught you off guard, and you blinked, trying to reconcile it with the superstar plastered across billboards.

He was even more handsome and taller in person.

“Hi, you must be YN,” he said warmly, stepping aside to let you in. His voice was soft yet carried a casual confidence that made your stomach twist nervously. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” you managed, clutching your notebook and recorder as if they were shields.

Stepping inside, you were greeted by the soft scent of sandalwood, mingling with the distant hum of the city outside. The penthouse was a mix of modern elegance and understated charm. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden light, while a record player was on the floor, next to the couch, and scattered papers on the coffee table revealed a chaotic blend of handwritten notes and sheet music. The only overt sign of his superstar status was the display of gleaming awards on a nearby shelf.

“Don’t mind the mess; I was working on a little something. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee?” he asked, nodding toward the sleek kitchen behind him.

“Water would be great,” you replied, your voice wavering slightly.

Moments later, he returned with a glass, setting it gently on the table in front of you before sinking into the couch opposite. He folded his legs under him, exuding an ease that felt more like a college student lounging at home than a global icon.

You placed your recorder on the table between you, its small red light blinking as it started recording. Yeonjun’s eyes briefly flickered to it, then back to you, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. “So,” he said, his lips curling into a playful grin, “what do you want to know?”

You straightened, determined to set the tone. “Let’s start with something simple. What inspired your group’s latest album?”

He tilted his head, considering the question, his eyes glinting with a spark of mischief. “Ah, the music icebreaker, classic,” he teased, though his tone shifted to something deeper, more sincere. “We wanted this album to feel real—like we were showing the side of us people don’t usually see. It’s about saying the things we don’t always get to say. A glimpse behind the curtain.”

You caught the weight in his words but chose to stick to the task at hand. “Do you feel personally connected to all the tracks?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice softening as he leaned forward just slightly, eyes locked on yours. “Some hit closer to home than others. There’s one track that feels like… a conversation with myself. A reminder to stay grounded when everything feels chaotic.”

His honesty made you pause, the faintest touch of vulnerability making you want to ask more. “Does the group ever find it overwhelming to stay in the spotlight?”

The playfulness in his smile dimmed, replaced by a flicker of sincerity. “More than people realize,” he admitted, fingers brushing absently over the ring on his hand. “But that’s part of the job. We’ve learned to rely on each other during those moments—it’s easier when you’re not carrying it alone.”

Before the silence could settle, you pivoted. “How does that pressure affect your creative process? Is it a group effort, or does inspiration come to you individually?”

Yeonjun leaned back, the smile returning to his lips. “It’s definitely a group effort. Sometimes one of us will have a lyric or melody that sparks everything, and other times, we just bounce ideas off each other until something clicks. We try to make sure every track ties into the bigger vision for the album.”

“That makes sense,” you said, jotting notes, though the dynamic in the room felt more intense now. You took a sip of water and watched him, the way his fingers drummed lightly against his leg as he thought.

“What about writer’s block? Do you guys ever hit a wall?”

“All the time,” he said, with a grin that felt refreshingly unguarded. “When that happens, we take a break. Everyone has their own way of resetting—whether it’s taking a walk, watching a movie, or just hanging out together. For me, I go to the studio and play around with random sounds until something clicks. Creativity works best when you’re not forcing it.”

His relaxed candor steadied your nerves. “This album feels so personal. How do you, as a group, decide what to share and what to keep private?”

“It’s tricky,” he said, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “We want the music to be honest, but there are parts of ourselves we need to protect. Usually, if a song feels like it could resonate with our fans or help someone else, we’re more willing to share it.”

“That’s a thoughtful way to approach it,” you said, genuinely impressed. “Your performances, on the other hand, always seem larger-than-life. How does the group prepare for shows like that?”

“Practice—and coffee. So much coffee,” he quipped, earning a laugh from you. “But really, it’s about mindset. Once we’re on stage, we leave everything else behind and give it everything we’ve got. We want every performance to feel unforgettable.”

“Do you still get nervous?” you asked, the curiosity in your voice slipping out.

“Every single time,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But that’s a good thing—it means you care. The trick is turning that nervous energy into excitement.”

The sincerity in his voice resonated with you. “What’s been your group’s most memorable performance?”

His face brightened, his eyes dancing with the memory. “That’s a tough one,” he said, words quickening. “But there was this show in Tokyo. The crowd was unbelievable—they sang every word, even the Korean ones. It felt like we were all connected, like we were sharing something bigger than just music. None of us will ever forget it.”

“Sounds incredible,” you said, though you couldn’t quite mask the awe in your voice.

“It was,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours, voice carrying the weight of the memory. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, a charge in the air.

You glanced up, catching him watching you with a subtle smile, as if he already knew the next question. “If it’s all right, I’d like to ask about your childhood. What was it like growing up, before you began this journey as an idol?”

Yeonjun’s fingers brushed over the table, a small gesture that spoke of thoughtfulness. He leaned back, the moment stretching as he seemed to search for the right words. The small, almost imperceptible shift of his gaze made your heart flutter unexpectedly, and you looked down quickly, hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, I grew up in a pretty loving family,” he began, a small smile pulling at his lips, eyes distant for a heartbeat before finding yours. “My parents were always supportive, but like most parents, they had their concerns. They wanted me to have a stable, secure future—something predictable. So when I told them I wanted to become an idol… let’s just say it wasn’t exactly what they had in mind.”

You nodded, your eyes softening as you sensed the weight behind his words. The warmth in his voice, the subtle way he seemed to lean in, made the air feel thicker between you. “How did they react? Were they hesitant at first?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he said with a chuckle. “They didn’t outright say no, but I could tell they were worried. The industry isn’t easy, and they were afraid of what it might mean for me—long hours, constant scrutiny, and so much uncertainty. But once they saw how serious I was, they started to come around. I think they just wanted to make sure I was doing what I loved.”

“It sounds like they cared deeply,” you said, your voice a touch softer now. The subtle way his eyes softened as he spoke made your pulse quicken. “That kind of concern only comes from love.”

“Yeah,” he said, a touch of vulnerability slipping through. “They’ve always been my biggest supporters, even now. They still remind me to take care of myself, which is… something I’m still learning to do,” he added with a wry smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

You noticed the sincerity in his voice, the depth of gratitude, and a hint of longing. The silence stretched a moment longer than it needed to, the energy between you both alive with something unspoken. “Do you think their support made a difference in your journey—helped you through the tough moments?”

His gaze drifted for a moment, a wistful look crossing his face. “Absolutely. There were times early on when it felt impossible—when everything seemed to be going wrong. But knowing they believed in me, even when I doubted myself, gave me the strength to keep going. It wasn’t just their words; it was the way they stood by me, no matter what.”

You offered a small smile, your pen pausing midair, your eyes meeting his. “That kind of unconditional support is rare. It sounds like it helped you stay grounded.”

“It did,” he said, a touch of reverence in his voice. The way he leaned forward slightly and the intensity of his gaze made your breath catch. “Even now, they remind me that success isn’t just about the achievements—it’s about staying true to who I am. That’s what keeps me balanced, especially in an industry that can pull you in so many directions.”

You cleared your throat, flipping to the next page of your notebook. The faint crinkle of the paper grounded you, a moment of normalcy in the charged atmosphere. As you glanced up, you caught the faint curve of Yeonjun’s lips—a mix of patience and quiet curiosity, as though he was as intrigued by your next question as you were by his potential answer.

“You’ve already talked about your fans,” you began, pen poised to capture his response. “About how important they are to you. But fame… it’s a double-edged sword, isn’t it? What’s the hardest part of being in the spotlight all the time?”

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, his movements deliberate, his gaze sharpening as the playful glint in his eyes dimmed. The moment lingered, his eyes meeting yours with a challenge that seemed to invite you in yet also hold you at a distance. “I think it’s the way people think they know you just because they see your face everywhere,” he said slowly, his voice measured. “Like, you’re not allowed to have bad days because those moments are just as public as the good ones. Every reaction, every expression—it’s all fair game.”

You nodded, jotting down a note while letting his words settle. The way he leaned forward, the subtle tension in his jaw—it was as if he was trying to find balance, a line between his public persona and the man in front of you now. There was a vulnerability in his tone, a glimpse of something unguarded beneath the practiced confidence. “How do you protect your private life, then?” you asked, your voice quieter, as though trying not to disrupt the fragile honesty of the moment.

Yeonjun chuckled softly, tilting his head in a way that made it hard to tell if he was teasing or deflecting. “Carefully,” he replied, his smile widening just enough to be disarming, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The space between you felt charged, as if his words had left an echo.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Care to elaborate?”

His smile lingered, but his gaze shifted inward, distant for a beat. “Let’s just say I’ve learned how to keep certain parts of myself… off the record,” he said, his voice steady but layered with meaning. The unspoken connection between you both tightened, and for a moment, you both seemed to hold your breath.

The room seemed to quiet further as you found yourself asking, almost without thinking, “Does that ever feel lonely?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, landing heavier than you’d intended.

Yeonjun’s eyes flickered, his smile fading as his expression softened. The easy warmth he carried moments ago gave way to something quieter, more contemplative. “Sometimes,” he admitted, his voice gentle but unflinching. “But it’s not all bad. It’s just part of the trade-off.”

The candor in his tone struck a chord, pulling you deeper into the moment. For a second, the boundary between interviewer and subject blurred, your eyes locked in a shared understanding that needed no words. You hesitated, the air charged with unspoken recognition, the kind that reached beyond the interview.

Not wanting to linger too long, you shifted your gaze to your notebook, flipping to the next page. The small movement helped clear the heat that had settled between you. “It must be a tough balance to maintain,” you said softly, your voice more reflective now.

“It is,” he said, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. There was a flicker of something in his expression—a quiet determination, resilience tempered by experience. His voice dropped, intimate as he spoke. “But it’s worth it. For them,” he added, his tone softening as he spoke of his fans, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. And yet, as he looked back at you, there was a moment where his expression shifted, the warmth giving way to a silent question only the two of you seemed to share.

The shift in his voice when he mentioned his fans caught your attention. There was a sincerity there, a deep appreciation that felt personal. You found yourself watching him for a moment, captivated by the ease with which he spoke about the people who’d supported him. And then, the faintest smile played on his lips, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“They mean that much to you,” you said, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“They do,” he confirmed, his voice warm, the look in his eyes intense. “At the end of the day, they’re the reason we keep going—the reason all the hard moments are worth it.”

The moment lingered, and you felt the weight of his honesty settle between you. Before you could respond, he leaned back, his tone lighter now, playfully cutting through the intensity. “So, what’s the next question?”

You blinked, startled back to the present, and quickly flipped through your notebook. “Right, um, let’s see,” you murmured, trying to regain your footing. But even as you spoke, your thoughts lingered on his words, on the quiet strength he carried beneath the polished surface.

You shifted in your seat, your voice softening as you asked, “Do you think about the future much? What do you see for yourself and for the group in the years to come?”

Yeonjun’s smile dimmed, a hint of both hope and uncertainty crossing his features. “I think about it a lot,” he said. “I want to keep growing, both as an artist and a person. And for the group… I hope we can keep doing this as long as we can. Whatever happens, we’ll always have each other.”

The weight of his words settled in the space between you. Your fingers brushed the edge of your notebook, but for a moment, you were focused solely on him. The way his eyes lingered on yours seemed to hold a question, a hint of what was unsaid. You could almost feel the pulse of his thoughts in the silence.

Adjusting your notepad, you asked, “With the level of fame you’ve reached, I imagine the criticism can be overwhelming. How do you handle it? Does it ever get to you?”

Yeonjun’s expression shifted, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The confidence he exuded was evident, yet there was honesty in the way he met your gaze, a glimmer of vulnerability behind the playful mask.

“Of course it gets to me,” he said. “It’s impossible not to feel the sting of harsh words. But I’ve learned to separate what matters from what doesn’t. Constructive criticism helps me grow; negativity meant just to hurt? I try to let that slide.”

You felt a surge of admiration for his candidness. “That takes strength,” you said, your voice taking on a softer tone. His eyes held yours for a moment longer than necessary, a fleeting connection that sent a shiver down your spine. The space between you felt charged, the air thick with something that neither of you named.

“Does your group help with that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but it hung in the air with an intensity that made your heart skip.Yeonjun’s eyes warmed, and he nodded. “Absolutely. We share stories and remind each other why we’re doing this. We face everything together, and that keeps us grounded.” The smile he gave you then was not just for the interview; it was something deeper, almost knowing, and for a heartbeat, it seemed like he was waiting for your response.

The conversation felt more intimate now, the boundaries between interviewer and subject blurring. You hesitated, allowing the silence to deepen before clearing your throat. “If you could go back and give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?”

His expression turned reflective, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something softer. “I’d tell him to be kinder to himself,” he said. “To not be so hard on himself when things didn’t go perfectly. It’s easy to get lost in trying to meet everyone’s expectations, but the only person you need to prove yourself to is you.”

The simplicity of his advice resonated. You could almost feel the weight of his words settle between you both. “That’s good advice,” you said softly. “I think a lot of people could use that reminder.” You held his gaze, your pulse quickening when he nodded, a shadow of seriousness in his eyes that spoke volumes.

Yeonjun’s smile was bittersweet. “It’s hard to follow sometimes. The pressure can be overwhelming. But that’s why I remember what really matters—my family, my group, and the moments that make all this worth it.”

The room seemed to shrink, the outside world fading. “What keeps you grounded beyond the group? What reminds you of who you are?” you asked, the question more personal than you intended.

“My family, definitely,” he said, a gentle warmth in his voice. “And my friends. They remind me that I’m still just Yeonjun—not Yeonjun, the idol. Just me.” There was an honesty there, raw and almost startling, and you could feel the weight of it settle between you.

You nodded, the sincerity in his words seeping into your own heart. “That’s important,” you said. “It’s easy to lose sight of that.”

“It is,” he said, a shadow of seriousness in his eyes. The way he leaned forward, the subtle intensity of his gaze—it felt like the air itself was holding its breath. “The noise can drown you out. But that’s why I hold onto them. They help me breathe.”

You took a breath, letting his words linger. “Do you ever wish for more moments where you can just… be? No lights, no cameras, just you?”

His lips twitched upward, the hint of a smile, before a sigh broke the moment. “All the time. I miss the little things—sitting on the porch at home, having breakfast with my family, or spending a lazy afternoon with friends. No schedules, no expectations.”

The picture he painted was so vivid it almost felt tangible. “Those moments are rare, aren’t they?” you said, the statement holding more weight than intended.

“They are,” he agreed. “But they remind me why I’m doing this. Why it’s worth it. And they remind me to keep going, even when it’s tough.” His eyes held yours, and the silence stretched, a thousand words passing between you without a sound.

The quiet was almost comforting now, like a secret shared. “You’re doing more than just pushing forward,” you said, almost in a whisper. “You’re making it worth it.”

Yeonjun blinked, his eyes catching something in your expression before he responded with a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he said, the warmth in his voice grounding the moment. The intensity of the exchange lingered, a question hanging in the air.

You nodded, the boundary between you both feeling almost nonexistent. “And that’s what people see in you, beyond the fame.”

Yeonjun’s smile widened, his eyes softening in a way that made your heart twist. “That’s good to hear. It’s the little things that matter.”

“Exactly,” you said, a small laugh escaping. For a moment, it felt like the interview had become something more—a genuine conversation, two people understanding each other. The air felt lighter, but the tension remained, now mingled with a curious, unspoken promise.

“Alright,” you said, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “One last question, then.”

“Make it a good one,” he teased, but the playful challenge in his eyes belied the deeper warmth that flickered beneath.

You hesitated for just a moment, pen poised over the page, then found the courage to ask, “If you weren’t doing this—being an idol, being in the spotlight—what do you think you’d be doing instead?”

The smirk faded as Yeonjun’s gaze grew distant, the playful expression shifting to something more reflective. “I think I’d be doing something creative—maybe working in design or music production. Something behind the scenes. But I wouldn’t change this for anything. It’s not just what I do; it’s part of who I am now.”

His words resonated, echoing in a way that left you speechless for too long. You blinked, hoping he wouldn’t notice your flustered silence.

“That’s a beautiful way to word it,” you said, finally finding your voice.

“Thanks,” he replied, eyes glancing at yours with that familiar warmth a little more real, a little more than just an interview.

The interview had gone better than you’d hoped. Yeonjun’s thoughtful answers and disarming smile had melted away your initial nerves, and you’d even managed to ask some of your tougher questions without stumbling. Still, the way his dark eyes lingered on you during the conversation left a subtle flutter in your chest.

You took a breath, tapping to stop the recorder before you. The soft click was a small, final punctuation to the hour-long conversation. Silence stretched between you, heavy with unsaid words and unacknowledged tension. The air seemed to thrum with something new, something electric that hadn't been there before.

Yeonjun’s smile softened, his eyes warm as they settled on you. “I know I’m supposed to be the one answering questions, but…” His voice dropped to a more intimate tone. “I’m curious about you. What made you want to become a journalist?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. Your cheeks flushed, a warm rush of embarrassment that you couldn’t quite suppress. The faint scent of coffee and city air seemed to mingle with the space between you, grounding you at the moment. “Um, well, I guess I’ve always been fascinated by stories and by the people behind them. I wanted to tell those stories, connect with people, and share their truths,” you said, your voice softer than you intended.

Yeonjun leaned forward, the casual demeanor he’d carried through the interview shifting. His gaze felt more focused now, searching, like he was studying the way the light hit your face or the way you tugged at the edge of your notebook. A tiny, knowing smile curved his lips, and your pulse quickened at the intensity of it. “And you’re doing it well,” he said, a note of sincerity that made your heart skip.

You swallowed hard, your fingers fidgeting with the recorder in your hand—the tiny, telltale sign of your nerves. The space around you seemed to shrink, each passing second drawing you closer. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you,” you whispered, surprised by how much his praise impacted you.

His eyes softened even more, and for a moment, the space between you seemed to shrink. You weren’t sure who leaned in first—your body moving on its own or his subtle shift—but suddenly the air felt charged, a current passing between you that was undeniable.

Yeonjun broke the silence with a slight chuckle, reaching for the recorder. His fingers brushed yours as he took it from your hand, the touch lingering just a moment too long, as if he were savoring it. You felt the warmth of his skin against yours, the unexpected contact sending a jolt through your veins. He clicked it off and placed it on the table, eyes returning to yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“You’ve got a good instinct for this job, you know?” He said, his voice low and close, like a secret being shared only between the two of you. “You ask the right questions; listen with purpose.”

The compliment sent a thrill down your spine, but it also made your chest tighten with something unspoken, something more. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized how close he was, and how the space between you now carried a weight that was both electrifying and unsettling. The silence that followed seemed to stretch forever, only broken by the quiet hum of the city outside. The moment felt delicate, fragile enough to shatter if either of you spoke or moved too suddenly.

Before you could respond, his eyes met yours again, the smile now real, the kind that made your breath catch. The boundaries between interviewer and subject had melted away, leaving just two people caught in a moment that felt impossibly fleeting yet deeply significant.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice a touch softer as you started gathering your things. Your heart drummed in your chest, the remnants of the charged silence from earlier making your hands tremble ever so slightly. With your notebook tucked under your arm, you stood to leave, your eyes catching his for a brief moment that seemed to stretch longer than it should have.

The way his smile lingered, warm and genuine, sent a shiver down your spine. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the flush rising in your cheeks as the air between you seemed to hum with unspoken tension. The conversation had left you breathless, and now that it was over, the realization of how close you’d come to losing control of your nerves made you lightheaded. “Thank you again for your time,” you said, your voice steady despite the faint tremor of adrenaline still coursing through you.

Yeonjun smiled, his eyes soft and sincere, as he walked you to the door. “Anytime. You made it easy.”

Your pulse quickened as he stepped closer, the distance between you reduced to mere inches. You blink, searching for something to steady yourself, but your thoughts were scattered. Your stomach did a little somersault, and you pressed your lips together, the need to escape the moment becoming undeniable.

“Actually, would it be alright if I used your bathroom before I go?” You managed to ask, the question tumbling out before you could stop it. The slight quiver in your voice betrayed the anxious tightness in your chest, and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Of course,” he said, the warmth in his voice grounding the moment, but only just. He gestured down the hall, the slight tilt of his head inviting you to pass. “First door on the left.”

As you moved past him, the brush of his presence sent a subtle shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too. The heat still pooled in your cheeks, a mix of nerves and something else you couldn’t quite name, pulling at you with every step. You nodded, trying to regain composure as you walked down the hallway, the quiet hum of the apartment settling around you, a stark contrast to the pulse still hammering in your chest.

The bathroom was simple and clean, but it gave you a moment to catch your breath and collect your scattered thoughts. You splashed cold water on your face, the sudden shock sharpening your senses, but when you looked up at your reflection, you couldn't help the small, unsteady smile that curved your lips. You were a mess of emotions, but that was nothing new.

After washing your hands, you stepped back into the hallway, the soft click of the bathroom door echoing in the silence. Your fingers brushed against the edge of the wall, grounding yourself as you took a steady breath. But then something caught your eye. At the far end of the hallway, a door was slightly ajar, a faint golden glow spilling through the crack and illuminating the darkened space.

The warm light beckoned, drawing you forward, and your curiosity edged out the nervous tension still coiled inside you. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching as you debated whether to investigate or turn back. The idea of what might be on the other side quickened your heartbeat, and you felt that same pull—the one that had been there since the first moment he looked at you.

You shouldn’t. It’s not your business. But curiosity gnawed at you, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you found yourself moving closer and stepping inside.

The room inside was unlike anything you’d seen before. Velvet curtains, deep crimson with subtle, swirling patterns, framed the windows, their fabric heavy and luxurious, casting the space in soft, almost hypnotic shadows. The air was thick, scented with something both musky and faintly sweet, a scent that seemed to pulse with the silence.

A king-size bed, draped in deep, rich sheets that matched the curtains, stood against one wall, the dark fabric inviting yet intimidating, as if the bed itself were a part of the room's mystery. At the foot of the bed, a black leather chair sat slightly to the side, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of the ambient light. The chair’s structure was sleek and imposing, the lines bold and uncompromising, as if daring you to sit and confront whatever was waiting.

Chains hung neatly coiled on the walls, their metallic sheen catching the dim light with a glint that made your pulse quicken. They were arranged with unsettling precision, each link meticulously placed, their weight a reminder of power and restraint. On a nearby table, a leather choker with intricate silver details lay next to a pair of gleaming handcuffs, the polished metal catching the light like a whisper of danger. The silver detailing on the choker was exquisite, delicate etchings that could have belonged to jewelry, yet their placement spoke of a purpose beyond beauty. A drawer slightly ajar revealed red ropes, their texture sturdy and inviting in a way that was both thrilling and intimidating.

You inhaled sharply, the breath catching painfully in your chest as your eyes darted from one object to the next, trying to process what you were seeing. Your heart raced, a frantic thud that reverberated in your ears, and every nerve in your body was on edge. The room felt charged, as if you’d stumbled into a hidden part of Yeonjun’s world, a secret that shifted everything you thought you knew about him.

The silence, once comforting, now seemed like an oppressive force, pressing in around you, urging you to move or speak but leaving you frozen, caught between curiosity and the surge of apprehension coiling in your stomach. The question of whether you were meant to be here settled in the back of your mind, mingling with the realization that you were standing in a space that seemed to hold a truth too heavy to ignore.

“Curiosity killed the cat, don’t you know?” The voice startled you, low and steady, cutting through the thick silence. You spun around, breath caught in your throat, face flushed as your eyes met Yeonjun’s. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. There was no anger in his expression—just a knowing amusement that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart pounded louder—a mixture of embarrassment and something else that made your pulse quicken. The moment stretched, filled with a tension so thick it was palpable.

“I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“Didn’t mean to what?” He teased, his voice warm but sharp. “Peek into something you weren’t ready for?”

“Well… yeah.” You let out a nervous laugh, breathless and entirely flustered.

Yeonjun’s smirk widened, eyes flicking to the objects scattered around the room before settling back on you, a glint of something unreadable in his expression. “Seems you’ve found yourself in a place where curiosity comes with consequences.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and loaded, an unspoken challenge you couldn’t quite ignore.

Yeonjun stepped into the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The movement sent a wave of unease rippling through you, but your heart pounded with something else too—an undeniable intrigue. The space between you narrowed, charged with an electric tension that made it hard to breathe.

You swallowed hard, searching for words, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I—I didn’t expect… this.”

He leaned closer, his presence commanding without being imposing. “Most people don’t,” he said, eyes glinting with playful confidence. “That’s what makes it fun.”

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze as your heart hammered in your chest. The room felt alive, heavy with energy. You wanted to retreat, but something kept you rooted in place, drawn to the charge between you.

Yeonjun tilted his head slightly, the teasing grin still playing on his lips. “You’re flustered,” he said, his tone laced with quiet amusement. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement, deliberate and knowing. His gaze softened, though an unmistakable edge lingered in his expression, making your chest tighten. “Have you never seen something like this before?”

“I—I’m not—” you began, but the words faltered, your voice catching in your throat.

He chuckled, the sound warm and low, sending shivers down your spine as he stepped closer, closing the gap between you. “Not innocent? No, I don’t think you are,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate. The words rolled over you like a caress. “And that makes you interesting.”

Your breath hitched, caught between the sting of embarrassment and the thrill of exhilaration. Despite yourself, you couldn’t look away. His presence was magnetic, pulling you in even as your thoughts scrambled for clarity.

“So, I assume you’re curious,” he said, his voice a velvety whisper, the corners of his lips twitching with a smile. His eyes flicked toward the neatly coiled ropes on the dresser before settling back on you. “That’s dangerous, you know.”

The suggestion of danger in his tone made your pulse quicken, your apprehension melting into a spark of intrigue. Swallowing hard, you met his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster. “I know,” you admitted, the words barely audible but charged with intent. You took a tentative step closer, testing boundaries you hadn’t realized you wanted to cross.

His eyes darkened, the mischief in them tempered by something deeper—something that felt like a dare wrapped in a promise. He leaned in, his breath ghosting against your skin, and whispered, “Good.”

The silence that followed was thick; the air between you charged with anticipation. Neither of you moved, locked in an unspoken challenge, a silent negotiation of trust and desire. Your gaze flitted across the room again, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. You weren’t shocked exactly, but the unexpected intimacy of it all left you off balance.

Yeonjun, on the other hand, seemed calm, though there was a flicker of something beneath his composed exterior. Nervousness? Or was it simply the anticipation of seeing how far you were willing to go?

“What is this room, exactly?” you asked, your voice breaking the silence. You gestured vaguely at the surrounding objects, trying to focus on something tangible.

He hesitated, his expression thoughtful, as though choosing his words carefully. “It's a part of me,” he said finally, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “Something I don’t show to the cameras or the fans. This isn’t an act. It’s just who I am when the world isn’t watching.”

His honesty caught you off guard, stripping away some of your apprehension. You glanced around again, curiosity bubbling to the surface. “Do you ever feel… judged for this?” you asked softly.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, a faint shadow crossing his face. “But I’ve learned something important: the right people don’t judge. They try to understand.”

Before you could respond, his fingers brushed your arm, the gentleness of his touch making your breath hitch.

“Want to know what’s behind this side of me?” He asked, his voice low and steady, the question hovering in the air like a challenge.

You nodded, your voice lost somewhere between your heart and throat. There was no hesitation now. Whatever lay on the other side of this moment, you were ready to discover.

“Here’s an exclusive for you,” Yeonjun said, his voice a low hum that seemed to wrap around you. “Being in the spotlight can be exhausting. Sometimes, I need to recharge in… unconventional ways.”

You held his gaze, the weight of his words settling over you. Tonight, there was something different about him—raw, unguarded, and undeniably seductive.

“And this… side of yours,” you asked cautiously, your words careful but curious. “Why hide it?”

His lips curled into a wry smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because people love putting others on pedestals. It makes it easier to tear them down when they don’t fit the mold. I’m not interested in being anyone’s martyr.” His gaze softened, though the intensity in his eyes remained. “Besides, in this industry, everything boils down to reputation, doesn’t it?”

You nodded slowly. “And our society is too moralistic,” you said, your voice steady despite the thoughts swirling in your mind.

A flicker of approval crossed his face. “Exactly. They preach morality, but it’s all a façade. Behind closed doors, people crave the dirty, the forbidden—the things they’d never admit to wanting. And when someone like me doesn’t hide it perfectly? They crucify us. Not because they don’t want it, but because we dared to show them what they won’t acknowledge in themselves.”

His voice was sharper now, but the edge softened as he leaned back against the couch. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “It’s easier to handle criticism for being ‘too reserved’ than to survive the backlash for being real. The truth isn’t what they want—it’s what they think they know. But under the covers, behind the scenes? That’s where I have my fun. With people no one would ever suspect. Because if they knew…” He chuckled darkly. “It’d be scandalous.”

Your thoughts spun, trying to reconcile the candidness of his words with the polished image the world saw. You’d always known that idols lived complicated lives, but hearing him say it so plainly felt like a glimpse into an entirely different reality.

“People love me, hate me, say whatever they want about me, but it doesn’t matter,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Because in the end, boys and girls, they all want the same thing—they just won’t admit it.”

“And what’s that?” You asked softly, your voice lowering instinctively, as if speaking louder might shatter the moment.

“To spend the night with me,” he replied, the words slipping from his lips so effortlessly it felt like an undeniable truth. His tone was teasing, but his eyes held something deeper, something more sincere. “And sometimes, I give them what they want.”

Your breath caught, the air between you growing heavier. His lips, plump and inviting, hovered tantalizingly close, sending a spark of curiosity and something else—something bolder—racing through you.

“And what about you?” You asked, your voice trembling with unfamiliar courage. “What do you want?”

Yeonjun tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. “I want the experience,” he said, his voice dropping lower, smoother. “The connection. There’s something intoxicating about guiding someone—helping them uncover parts of themselves they didn’t even know existed.”

His words settled over you like a challenge, stirring something within you that had long been buried beneath layers of caution and control. You thought of your life—carefully managed, predictable, restrained—and the sharp contrast of his world made your pulse quicken.

“And you’re comfortable sharing this with me?” You asked, your tone softer now, as though testing the fragile trust between you.

“Believe it or not, I am,” he said, his gaze steady and unyielding. “There’s something about you, YN. You’re disciplined and careful, but I think you understand discretion. I can see it in the way you carry yourself. And maybe…” His voice dropped even lower. “Maybe I think you’ve been looking for something, even if you don’t know what it is yet.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, unearthing truths you hadn’t yet admitted to yourself. The weight of keeping things hidden, the temptation of stepping into the unknown—it all felt so close now, so tangible.

Your eyes drifted to his lips, drawn to their softness, their proximity. The air between you felt electric, alive. “What if I wanted… to see more?” you whispered, surprised at your own boldness.

Yeonjun’s eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by something far more intense. His hand found your waist, his touch deliberate and slow, giving you the space to pull away. But you didn’t.

“Then I’d be happy to show you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

The space between you vanished as his lips found yours, tender yet all-consuming. The kiss wasn’t rushed but deliberate, an exploration that spoke of unspoken emotions. His hand rested on your waist, his fingers splaying wide as though anchoring you to the moment.

Your hand moved instinctively, settling against his chest, where the steady beat of his heart echoed your own. It was grounding—a reminder that this was real, that the pull between you wasn’t just in your imagination.

When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, a playful glint tinged with something deeper. “You okay?” he asked, his voice light but laced with genuine care.

You nodded, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect this when I came to interview you.”

A mischievous smile curved his lips, and his hand brushed your cheek, the soft graze of his fingers sending a shiver through you. “I liked surprising you,” he murmured, his tone warm and teasing, coaxing a soft laugh from you.

He took your hands gently in his, tracing the lines of your palms as if studying them. His touch was deliberate and grounding, and you found yourself relaxing under his gaze. But a flicker of hesitation crossed his face, and he stepped back slightly, his expression thoughtful.

“Maybe we should stop,” he said softly, regret shading his tone. “Before it gets too far.” His eyes searched for yours, watching for the faintest sign of doubt.

“Maybe,” you replied, your breath uneven. But the uncertainty you’d felt moments ago was gone, replaced by a quiet resolve. “Or maybe… we should see where this goes.”

His brow arched slightly, his lips tugging into a smile that was equal parts amusement and intrigue. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I’m not very good at holding back.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your chest. “That’s why I want to explore—with you.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy with intent, and then you leaned in, closing the distance again. This time, your kiss was bold and unrestrained, a reflection of the newfound courage surging within you.

When he pulled back, his eyes were darker, more intense, and his breathing was shallow. “Are you ready for more?” he asked, his voice a mix of challenge and promise.

You met his gaze, your heart racing, and nodded. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you.

His smile softened, warm and reassuring, before his lips brushed against yours again. This kiss was slower, deeper, as though he were savoring the moment before the tension gave way to something else. His mouth moved to the curve of your neck, and the gentle press of his lips left you breathless.

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, his name escaping your lips unbidden.

“Don’t think,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough yet tender. “Just feel.”

And you did. The world outside seemed to disappear at that moment—no expectations, no consequences—just the heat of his touch and the tension that had been building between you since the moment you met.

“All my life, I’ve been careful, reserved,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling but gaining confidence. “But with you, I feel like I can… experiment.”

Yeonjun’s gaze softened, and his thumb traced your cheek with the same gentleness you were starting to associate with him. “You don’t need to wear a mask here,” he said quietly. “I won’t judge you for anything.”

The weight of his words settled between you, breaking down walls you hadn’t even realized you’d built. For the first time, you felt unguarded, free.

Your gaze flickered to the ropes, curiosity sparking, and then back to him. “Could we… experiment together?” The words came out stronger than you expected—not just a question but an invitation.

His eyes darkened with something unreadable, the tension thick between you. He leaned in again, his lips brushing yours softly, a promise rather than a demand. When he pulled back, his voice was low and raw.

“We can,” he murmured. “But are you sure?”

A small smile played on your lips as you nodded, breathless but in resolve. “I’m sure,” you said softly, the certainty in your voice surprising even you. “Even though I don’t know what to do…”

His hand cupped your face, his touch steady and comforting. “I’ll guide you,” he said, his tone full of reassurance. “We’re in this together.”

His lips found yours again, slow and deliberate, unraveling the last threads of restraint you’d been clinging to. His touch, his presence—it wasn’t just physical. It was an invitation to step into the unknown, a promise of discovery, and the start of something entirely new.

Yeonjun’s fingers tightened gently around your waist, grounding you both at the moment and anchoring you in the trust and connection that had quietly blossomed between you. Your body responded eagerly, the lines between curiosity and desire dissolving into a heady mix you no longer wanted to resist. The tension between you deepened as your hands found their way to him, feeling the electric warmth of his body, the soft shared gasps between kisses, and the synchronized pounding of your hearts.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He asked, his voice soft but charged, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread.

You met his gaze, searching for reassurance and finding it in the sincerity of his eyes. A promise lingered there, unspoken but undeniable. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breathless yet steady.

With deliberate care, he unbuttoned your blouse, the fabric parting slowly to reveal your skin. The cool air kissed your exposed collarbone, a sharp contrast to the warmth pooling in your chest. His touch was gentle, each movement deliberate, as though asking for permission even as it invited you to let go.

The soft press of his chest against yours, the heat of his body so close, made your breath hitch. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the simple words carrying a weight that wrapped around you, grounding you in the vulnerability of the moment.

As he unclasped your bra, your heart thrummed in your chest, caught between exhilaration and nervous energy. His gaze was reverent, his expression a mixture of awe and care that made your pulse race.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands finding their way to his arms, fingers brushing against the strength and warmth beneath his shirt. He drew you closer, his mouth tracing a slow path along the curve of your shoulder. Each kiss felt like both a question and an answer, a dance of trust and discovery.

The air between you crackled with an electric, tentative heat. The room seemed to shrink, the outside world falling away until only the two of you remained, the rhythm of your heartbeat filling the silence.

He leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the stillness. “I want you to feel safe with me,” he whispered, his voice low and steady.

When he reached the waistband of your pants, his fingers worked carefully, unbuttoning them with the same patience that marked every touch. The fabric slipped away, leaving you exposed in a way that felt both thrilling and daunting.

As he removed your panties, a wave of shyness swept over you, the vulnerability settling like a weight in your chest. Sensing the sudden shift, Yeonjun paused, his hands moving to your arms. His thumbs brushed soothing circles over your skin, his touch steady and reassuring.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice threaded with genuine concern, his eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you whispered, though the word wavered with the mix of emotions swirling within you. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”

Your cheeks burned as the words left your lips, the admission startling but freeing. You weren’t used to speaking so openly, even to yourself, but something about him made honesty feel easy, even natural.

His thumb continued its slow, soothing circles along your back, a touch that was both calming and igniting all at once. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice like a balm. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

At that moment, the tension in your body began to ease, replaced by a quiet anticipation, a trust that made the unfamiliar feel exciting instead of frightening.

Yeonjun’s hands moved with precise care, the rope slipping through his fingers like silk. You sat at the edge of the bed, watching his movements as he guided your arms behind you. The texture of the rope was warm and slightly coarse against your skin, each loop wrapping snugly but never uncomfortably.

“I’ll start slowly,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. As the first knot tightened around your wrists, you felt a faint tug, the sensation firm but oddly grounding. He adjusted the tension, his fingers brushing your skin with a gentleness that made your breath hitch.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Good,” you replied, the word coming out softer than you intended. The rope pressed just enough to make you aware of it, sending subtle shivers through your skin.

He continued, each knot deliberate and rhythmic, the soft rustle of the rope filling the quiet room. When he moved to your chest, the ropes crisscrossed in intricate patterns, framing your body in a way that felt both unfamiliar and mesmerizing. His knuckles brushed against your collarbone as he worked, the heat of his touch lingering even after he moved on.

“This part might feel a little tighter,” he said, his tone calm as he secured another knot. The ropes hugged your torso, firm but never biting, as though they were designed to hold you without restricting. You shifted slightly, testing their hold, and the friction sent a faint, thrilling pulse through you.

His movements were unhurried, almost methodical, as if tying each knot required his full focus. The brush of his fingers along your shoulders and arms left trails of warmth, contrasting with the cool air of the room. When he worked his way to your thighs, his fingers grazed the sensitive skin there, sending goosebumps racing along your legs. The ropes framed your body in delicate patterns, accentuating rather than obscuring.

“Stand up”. He requested and you obeyed. As he stepped back, you saw him glance at the mirror behind you, his gaze reflecting a quiet intensity. “Take a look,” he said, gesturing toward your reflection.

Your eyes moved hesitantly to the mirror, taking in the intricate design adorning your body. The symmetry of the knots and the way they framed your curves left you breathless. The ropes didn’t feel like restraints—they felt like an extension of yourself, like art on your skin.

Yeonjun’s reflection met yours in the mirror, his gaze steady but admiring. “How does it feel?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes never leaving yours in the glass.

You shifted slightly, the ropes shifting with you. “It's… different,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “But not in a bad way.”

“Great,” he said, stepping closer until his reflection loomed behind yours. His hand brushed your shoulder lightly, his touch grounding. “You look stunning like this.”

Your chest rose with a sharp inhale at his words, the weight of his gaze in the mirror both reassuring and electrifying. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room thick with unspoken tension. The ropes tightened ever so slightly as you adjusted, sending another faint shiver through your skin. The sensation was strange, yes, but it carried with it an unexpected sense of freedom—a release from control you hadn’t known you were holding onto.

Yeonjun’s fingers found your chin, tilting your head just enough for your eyes to meet his reflection. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt: this moment was for you, and he was here to hold it steady.

The tension between you deepened, the air thickening as if the world itself were holding its breath, waiting for what came next. Then, he started placing soft, deliberate kisses across your body, each one sending shivers down your spine and warming you from within. Your heart pounded, its rhythm echoing in your ears like an unspoken confession. Each breath was shallow, hitching as Yeonjun’s lips brushed your skin—a warm touch that set electricity coursing through your nerves.

His eyes never broke contact through the mirror, making you press your thighs together, seeking some relief. His foxy eyes made you feel so wet, and you couldn’t control yourself. Not only that, you felt your body burning. It was a sensation unlike anything you’d known before—a slow unraveling of everything you thought you understood about yourself. His touch was erotic and reverent, sparking something raw and untamed within you. The shyness, the walls you’d built so carefully, crumbled under his unwavering gaze.

“You’ve never let yourself feel like this before, have you?” His voice was soft, observant, cutting through the noise in your mind as he guided you to the chair.

You shook your head, fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in the simple touch. “I didn’t know I could. It’s… new. I can’t say I’m that bold in bed.”

Yeonjun’s eyes met yours, dark and knowing, with a glint of something deeper. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, making you sit on the chair with your legs as open as possible. “You’re uncovering parts of yourself that have been waiting for the right moment.”

His words pressed against old insecurities, but there was no fear—only warmth. For once, you didn’t feel judged or diminished. You felt seen, cherished, and the feeling both terrified and thrilled you.

Yeonjun leaned down, his lips pressing softly to the curve of your collarbone, a gentle kiss that sent a warm shiver down your spine. The sensation of his mouth on your skin, tender and reverent, made your breath catch, a delicate gasp slipping from your lips. His hands moved slowly, tracing the contours of your body tied by the ropes, each touch deliberate, memorizing the feel of you. His caress was both soothing and electrifying.

He trailed kisses down the line of your shoulder, pausing to let his lips linger, the heat of his breath leaving a warm, tantalizing trail. Your chest rose and fell, each press of his lips reminding you that you’re not just desired but cherished. The way his eyes searched yours, holding a look so profound, made you feel as if he’s seeing every hidden part of you.

“You’re so responsive” He stated, his lips brushing against your skin.

Yeonjun’s kisses moved lower, brushing the curve of your breasts. You felt as if you’re glowing under his touch, an intoxicating warmth spreading through you. The way he paused, savoring each moment, deepened the sensation, making you feel worshiped in a way that transcends the physical. It wasn’t just the touch; it was the way he was making you feel seen, cherished, as though you were the only person in the world.

When his tongue finally touched your right nipple, you arched your back and whimpered softly. He began sucking, but his gaze never left your face, observing your every reaction. He soon turned to the other, and you bit your lips, trying not to make any noises.

“Let yourself feel this,” he whispers, his voice heavy and filled with something deep, something only you are allowed to see. Your skin is alive, a canvas for him to paint with his hands and tongue; each kiss is a declaration that you are desired, beyond the limits of words.

You didn't fight, allowing yourself to be completely immersed in the sensation—the way his tongue worked with such care, sucking your tits and kindling a spark that made you shudder. His lips found their way back to yours, a consuming kiss that left you breathless and yearning. With him, you felt revered, every part of you held in reverence, and your entire being cherished as a secret treasure. And for the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to feel that you were deserving of it.

Yeonjun broke the kiss and kneeled before you. His hot tongue drew irregular designs on your lower stomach. He then smirked as he looked at your glistening pussy.

“Can I taste you?” He asked only for formality and laughed softly when you gladly nodded, enabling him to approach. He softly slipped a finger in your hole, caressing lightly, causing you to squirm.

“You're so wet, and I've barely started.” His eyes widened, and he grinned, enjoying your willingness to give yourself to him. He pressed his finger inside you, making you moan.

“So tight,” he muttered, focusing on your reactions and how you felt while clutching his finger. “I need to prepare you for me, okay?”

You only nodded, gasping for oxygen as he started wiggling his finger. He stroked your clit with the tip of his nose and quickly began licking it. You tossed your head back and reflexively thrust your hips forward, allowing him greater access to you.

He had his eyes closed, squeezing your thighs, utterly absorbed in your taste. But he wanted, no, needed more. He abruptly stopped what he was doing and got up. You didn't have time to think before he grabbed you and threw you in the bed, face crushed against the mattress, ass up. He positioned his face in your cunt and began licking and sucking with increased ferocity. You could only sigh and roll your eyes, unable to regulate your breathing.

Not wanting to stop surprising you, his hands grabbed your butt and opened the cheeks as much as possible. Then his tongue reached your butthole, licking with desire.

“Yeonjun!” You shrieked with delight, having never felt anything like it.

“Shh, let me make you feel good,” he whispered as he returned to your hole, giving you an unprecedented pleasure.

His finger swiftly returned to your pussy, thrusting again. You couldn't stop moaning, and for a moment, you were relieved he lived in a penthouse. If this happened in your small flat, your neighbors would know what the two of you were doing, since you couldn't stop screaming in pleasure. After a while, he paused. He quickly removed his clothes and took a condom from the drawer.

“I need to feel you right now,” he whispered, stroking himself. The sight was breathtaking: his long and veiny cock, with its pink tip sticky with pre-cum, made you bite your lips. He was completely stunning.

Yeonjun quickly opened the condom with his teeth and slipped it onto his erection. He positioned himself at your entrance, massaging your buttocks. “Are you ready, YN?” He asked with his voice low.

“I am” You gave him permission, and he slowly invaded you, closing his eyes as he felt your tightness and warmth around him. Both of you sighed heavily as you adjusted to each other. He began thrusting after you had relaxed, while holding you by your hips. The position wasn't very comfortable, but the pleasure was unmatched.

“How are you this hot?” He questioned, increasing his pace. “You're delicious”

“I could ask you the same,” you mumbled, feeling his cock striking your cervix.

You two had entirely surrendered to each other's bodies, heat, and heavy breathing. It was a new experience for you, but Yeonjun couldn't recall the last time a partner made him feel so free and alive. It's as if you were made for him.

“More,” you pleaded, impatiently.

“Yeah?” He asked, thrusting quickly and bending in to get closer to you. You were unable to respond properly, moaning aloud.

“My cock is stuffing you so good you forgot all the words, Miss Journalist?” He teased, and you nodded shamelessly, causing him to giggle.

Your knees began to weaken and your legs to shake, causing your gaps to become more irregular and frequent.

“Yeonjun, I'm getting close,” you said, feeling a knot in your lower stomach.

“Let go, doll.” He grabbed your hands and said, “Cum on my cock.”

You reached your orgasm, moaning loudly, as per his command. He couldn't contain himself as you clenched around him, flooding his condom with his own release.

He pulled away from you and lay at your side, breathing heavily. You collapsed on the bed, your heart thumping like a drum. You chuckled together as you peered into each other's eyes.

“That was intense,” he said.

“It's a way to word it.” You grinned, fatigued.

Yeonjun got out of bed, discarded the used condom, and grabbed a towel to clean you both up. After that, he went for a pair of scissors and carefully cut the ropes around your body; his motions were as delicate and methodical as when he bound you, and his fingers grazed your skin with the same tenderness. The warmth of his touch caused a shiver down your spine.

“You okay?” Yeonjun asked, his voice low and tentative as he lay beside you. His gaze searched for yours with quiet concern.

“Yeah,” you answered, stretching your arms with a small, content smile. “Better than okay.”

His lips curved into a soft smile, warm and knowing. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch light yet intentional. “I’m glad,” he murmured, relief softening his voice. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, sending a wave of warmth through you.

The room seemed to pause as you held his gaze, the trust between you deepening. “I didn’t expect this,” you admitted, your voice steady but vulnerable. “I didn’t know this could be so good.”

His expression shifted, his eyes darkening with a mix of intensity and pride. “That’s all I wanted,” he said softly. “To show you it’s okay to just be… you.”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. The silence between you felt alive, filled with unspoken understanding. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you breathed in his familiar scent—grounding yet intoxicating. “It’s like I can finally just let go of all control and allow me to be cared.”

Yeonjun met your eyes, his gaze unwavering. “You deserve to experience that,” he said, his tone gentle but certain.

A quiet sense of belonging settled over you, the tension of earlier replaced by something lighter, more meaningful. His thumb brushed your jaw again, his touch lingering. “Promise me,” he said, a teasing smile forming, “you’ll hold onto this.”

“I promise,” you said, your voice carrying a rare certainty.

“And how do you feel now?” he asked, his voice soft but steady, the care in his tone grounding you.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Like I’m finally starting to live,” you replied, your voice strong despite the emotion behind it.

His expression softened, a quiet pride glowing in his eyes. “That’s all that matters.”

The vulnerability lingered between you, not heavy but reassuring. Yeonjun’s wild confidence was tempered by the quiet depth in his gaze. “You’re easy to talk to,” you admitted, surprised by how easily the words came.

He chuckled, warm and inviting. “And here I thought I was intimidating.”

“Well,” you teased, a playful grin forming, “I was… until I wasn’t.”

His eyes glinted with mischief, and your chest tightened—not with nerves, but with something warmer, brighter.

As you moved to stand, he handed you a glass of water, his eyes holding yours with quiet intensity. “So,” he said, his tone lighter now, “what’s next for you, Miss Journalist?”

A playful spark lit your eyes as you smiled. “Not sure, but I can assure you this isn’t making it into the article.”

Yeonjun smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “No? That’s a shame. I thought we were writing a bestseller here.”

“Oh, trust me,” you replied, laughing, your cheeks warming, “this stays between us.”

“Good.” His smirk deepened, more confident now. “Some things are better left unseen. Or unpublished.”

You nodded softly, though your pulse quickened at the weight of his words. “Honestly, I don’t think people would believe me anyway,” you said without even thinking.

“They’d believe it,” he countered, his voice smooth and teasing, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “After all, I am the flirty one, right?”

“And my research was accurate,” you shot back, the tension easing into playful warmth.

“Glad to know I live up to expectations,” he quipped, his laughter breaking the moment’s stillness.

For a brief second, humor gave way to something deeper in his gaze. He reached for an envelope on the nearby table and held it out with deliberate care. “Before you go,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You took it, already knowing what it was. “An NDA,” you said, glancing briefly at the envelope before meeting his eyes again.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said earnestly. “It’s just…”

“You’re protecting yourself,” you finished, nodding. “I understand. Moments like these are rare. They’re worth protecting.”

His lips curled into a faint smile. “Exactly. This isn’t about doubting you, YN. It’s about making sure we both have the space to keep this… ours.”

You signed without hesitation, handing the envelope back with a quiet smile.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice heavy with gratitude. “I know it’s not romantic, but…”

“But it’s necessary,” you interrupted gently. “Your world’s different, Yeonjun. I respect that.”

The tension melted from his posture as he offered you a rare, unguarded look of warmth. “Not everyone would,” he said quietly. “That means more than you know.”

The room settled into a comfortable silence; the weight of the moment replaced with mutual understanding. Whatever this was��it mattered.

After he insisted you eat something and take a shower with him—which led to another round against the cold tiles of his bathroom—you were ready to leave. You glanced toward the door, then back at him, your nervousness evident in the soft set of your expression. “I guess I should get going,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, shy and uncertain.

Yeonjun watched you with a gentle smile, his gaze unwavering as he leaned back on the couch, eyes locked on yours as you stood by the door. The playful energy of earlier had shifted into something deeper, something more real.

“I’m glad you came by tonight,” Yeonjun said, his voice low and thoughtful. “I wasn’t sure what to expect… but I’m glad we did this. All of it.”

You nodded, your gaze wandering downward as your fingertips unconsciously touched your notebook. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I didn't expect any of it, but… I'm really glad, too.”

Silence fell between you, the weight of the moment heavy in the room. You hesitated in the doorway, undecided on whether to leave or stay a little longer. Yeonjun shifted, sitting up straighter, with a new level of intent in his eyes.

“You know,” he added slowly, softly but directly, “I hope this isn't the last time I see you.”

Your breath caught, and you swallowed, your fingers still trembling as you fiddled with the hem of your sleeve. You wanted to say something, but shyness kept you quiet.

Yeonjun, sensing your hesitancy, stood and walked toward you, commanding the space between you. When he got to you, he hesitated, eyes meeting yours, waiting for a sign, an invitation.

“I don't want this to be a one-time thing,” he said with sincerity. “Would you… let me have your contact?”

Your heart skipped a beat as the warmth of his invitation sank into your chest. You nodded, feeling a little more assured but still moved by his candor. He handed you his phone, and you typed in your number, making sure not to make it feel weird.

Yeonjun watched you with a familiar, patient smile, allowing you to take your time. When you were finished, you handed him your phone, and he smoothly typed his number.

“Thank you,” he said softly, holding your gaze longer than necessary. His eyes were warm and deeper than casual flirtation. “I'll text you soon, okay?”

You nodded, a shy smile brushing your lips. “I'll be waiting.”

Yeonjun stepped back slightly, giving you space but not breaking the connection. “Take care, YN,” he said, his voice gentle.

“You too, Yeonjun,” you replied, your voice steady, the nerves from before showing up again.

A brief, charged silence stretched between you, and the world outside appeared to pause. The moment felt frozen in time.

As you turned to leave, a force dragged you back—an unspoken tension that lingered, heavy with everything that had been spoken. Yeonjun approached before you could go inside the door. His fingers brushed against the back of your hand, sending a shudder through you.

You looked up, heart hammering, eyes locked on his. Without saying anything, he leaned in, his kiss cautious at first, as if to test the waters. But as it became deeper, it became tender and private, a perfect reflection of the emotions you'd been experiencing all evening.

It was a gentle kiss that felt like an agreement, a pledge that this wasn't the end. When you pulled away, breathless, Yeonjun smiled sweetly, his hand staying on your waist for an extra moment.

“YN.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze for the last time that night.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he said, his smirk faint but teasing. “But satisfaction? That’s a different story.”

You laughed, a soft sound that made his eyes brighten, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“And some secrets are worth keeping,” you continued, your words lighthearted yet full of substance.

“See you soon, YN,” he said.

You nodded, your cheeks heated, and your heart was full. “See you soon, Yeonjun.”

As you stepped out into the cold night, you reached for your car and drove away. You opened the windows, allowing yourself to experience the fresh air, with a faint trace of rain and the warmth of the moment you had just shared. You took a deep breath and smiled, feeling good for the first time in a long time.

The glow of your laptop screencast soft shadows across the room. You sat at your small desk, fingers poised over the keyboard. The blinking cursor stared back at you, waiting for words you couldn’t quite find.

How could you distill everything about Choi Yeonjun into a neat, polished article? The magnetic idol, the playful charmer, the man with a wild edge hidden behind disarming smiles—how much of him could you put into words without revealing too much?

Your fingers hovered, hesitant, before you began typing:

“Choi Yeonjun is as fascinating as the music he produces. Underneath the polished stage presence and unmistakable charisma is an artist whose passion goes beyond the surface. He has an unquestionable ability to attract people not only via his art, but also through his intense presence.”

You took a break and read the words again. They appeared to be rather accurate. Carefully built, with meticulous distance.

However, your thoughts have betrayed you. You remembered how his stare lingered, warm and unwavering, and how his voice softened as he whispered truths he seldom revealed. You remembered his calm vulnerability with you and how you felt in those moments, as if you had entered a world no one else could see.

Your lips twisted into a slight, secret smile.

You continued typing:

“To meet Yeonjun is to encounter a complexity that is both intriguing and elusive. While the public knows him as a star, there is a depth to him that feels deliberately guarded, a mystery left unsolved. Perhaps that’s the real charm—some things are meant to remain unseen.”

Your hands remained still above the keys. It was professional but ambiguous. Just enough to suggest his depth without giving too much away. You closed your laptop and leaned back in your chair with a quiet sigh. The essay was finished, but your thoughts remained on him—his touch, his words, his serene assurance.

“Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction? That’s a different story.” he had said, his voice laced with instigation, which you truly adored.

Your cheeks warmed at the memory, and you pressed your fingers lightly to your lips, as if to capture the remnants of his kiss.

The world would read about Choi Yeonjun, the idol. But the man? He was yours to remember.

elle speaks³: not my best work bc this last few weeks have been tough 😮‍💨 im definitely not okay lol. anyways, hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading ♡

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction created by me. the characters of TOMORROW X TOGETHER and the song mentioned are used for creative purposes only. this story is not affiliated with BigHit Entertainment or TXT, and all content is fictional and does not reflect reality. the song “If U Seek Amy” is owned by its creators and used here without profit.

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