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Till The Devil Had To Find Him
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What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? Too Close To Breathe
“And… It will get better.” Myung-Dae drummed his fingers rapidly on his glass table. “Oh fuck,” Min-a thought to himself. “Mr. Kwan Seung-ho got 1M likes when he shared the pictures. His manager also thought it would be a good idea that we collaborated on both talents and did a shoot of you both. Together..” Myung-Dae stood from his chair, kicking it sideways excitedly. Min-a stared at him in disbelief, turning to stare at Seung-ho to see his reaction, but the older man was having a good time tapping off the infectious excited energy that Myung-Dae exuded. “Imagine,” Myung-Dae went to the sealed glass window behind him, stretching his hands out like he was about to pitch a billion-won deal. “You, the young talented, and hot-” “Super hot.” Seung-ho corrected and Myung-Dae gave him an appreciative smile, clapping his hands eagerly. “Super hot, Korea’s number one bad boy, Seo Min-a, is now a talented artist. Then Kwan Seung-ho, the mysterious infamous artist who has always a
What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? A Little Favor
Traffic in Seoul could be hell sometimes. It was something even the filthy rich couldn’t avoid, and that was the reason Seo Eun Hye was taking her business calls right there in the middle of the stagnant highway in her Tesla. It was about 6 pm but the sun looked like it wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. It was the time when all good-paying jobs closed but she wasn’t coming from a job. She was going to the company her parents entrusted to her while they dealt with the invincible workload. Eun Hye let out another frustrated sigh, banging her head on the steering wheel of the electric car before looking at her map status. She was nowhere close to her destination. Her car suddenly became filled with the intro to Euphoria by Jungkook. It has been her ringing tone ever since the masterpiece was released. It was her assistant, Heidi, who was calling. Eun Hye snatched the phone from the holder and picked up the call with lightning speed. “Heidi, tell me some
What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? Who Did He Think He WAS?
Min-a felt a chill run down his spine as he recalled eating a particular Mrs. Yuan's coochie because his older sister needed him to convince the old lady to invest in her last project. “What? That was a good one. You get to fuck Mrs. Yuan! Wasn’t it like a great time for you too?” Eun Hye frowned, appearing extremely confused. She thought he had enjoyed the arrangement since he loved abomination affairs. Min-a swallowed hard before walking away. His silence troubled his older sister. “Did she do anything else to you?” Eun Hye’s worried voice brought Min-a to his senses. He realized he was being too sensitive. “Nope, aside from biting my balls a bit too hard?” he wiggled his brows, winking at his older sister because he knew she would be disgusted, and hopefully, that would get her to leave him alone. But it didn’t work. “I didn’t need to know that. Look, it’s different this time. Kwan Seung-ho is like those ethical artists. He came from nothing and now is some top-rate
What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? A Win Is A Win
The weekend lazy haze didn’t spare Min-a. He found himself sprawled out on the sidewalk of the Yongsan-gu neighborhood. He opted for morning jogging since he felt too tired to lift any weights in his private gym. But he barely ran over 10 km before feeling exhaustion crippling him. His white T-shirt stuck to his body and his black shorts were showing the print of his cock, so he had to call it a day and walked the way home. He had a private door from the side of the house that led him directly to his room but his stomach churning sent him through the main door for some warm breakfast. Only, he met a not-so-expected st waiting at their gate in a well-tailored suit. “He actually fell for it…” Min-a thought to himself in disbelief. “Mr. Kwan, you showed up,” he announced his presence, startling the older man. Seung-ho snapped around to look at Min-a with a neutral expression on his face. His eyes lingered on his broad chest and lean legs that his clothes didn
What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? The Picasso Trance
White and faded light blue were the only shades Min-a had made peace with, these two colors always looked fire on him. He looked at himself in the mirror, satisfied with his beach turquoise palm tree pattern shorts with a white background, and went through five outfits before settling for this. All had the same color gradients. He was certain he looked good. It was 6:45 pm on that same day, a few minutes later than the time Seung-ho had informed him to come for his first lesson. Who the hell begins lessons on the same day as they commenced it? Min-a tried not to think about how he was cornered by his father and his Noona into being a student of the man he barely knew. His lessons were mutually agreed to three times a week but trust he wouldn't be making efforts to attend all. “After tonight, he better not expect me to attend any evening cringe evening classes.” He spoke firmly in his mind. After he was done, Min-a went back to his shelf to apply perfume, a
What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? Such An Ethical Man
Min-a gasped upon realizing he was caught staring, then huffed, feeling his face suddenly get hot. “No. I was only checking out the fit. Not bad for an oldie.” Seung-ho dropped his upcoming remark after listening to his words. “We need to get going now, it’s gonna rain soon.” He grunted, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Spare me a few more seconds, entertaining your delusion is so worthwhile.” Min-a retorted. “No comments?” He pressured but Seung-ho didn't say anything back. “You look great would have sufficed.” Seung-ho chuckled dryly, “Aera, lock up for the night.” He barked out the order to see his assistant as they left. “Please, tell me you have a car..” Min-a muttered, resting by the street light. “Nothing fancy. Your pampered ass might think of it as scrap.” Seung-ho opened up the next garage, revealing a covered-up car. From the shape underneath, Min-a felt his breath hitch in his throat. “No way..that can't be..” He breathed, leaning off the st
What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? Act A Fool
Min-a lingered on the sidelines, exchanging pleasantries and snapping photos with familiar faces, but his attention kept gravitating back to his art coach. Seung-ho effortlessly navigated the flurry of lights and cameras, exuding a natural charisma that caught Min-a off guard. Perhaps he had underestimated him. Lost in his thoughts, Min-a didn't notice they had moved on to greet the next while he was discreetly observing Seung-ho. “You can’t seem to keep your eyes off me, Min-a.” Seung-ho murmured smoothly into Min-a's ear, his arm snaking around Min-a’s waist with a graceful smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, your cloth tag was stealing all the spotlight if you ask me..” Min-a mirrored his moves, subtly moving his hand under his blazer and gently pulling the tag off. As his hand connected with Seung-ho’s skin, he felt a sudden warmth, contrasting with the cool air around them. Min-a hesitated, allowing his hand to linger, feeling the tantalizing warmth of his skin
What’s Wrong With My Art Coach? It’s the Alcohol
After a moment of deep breaths, he met Seung-ho’s gaze head-on, determined to challenge him. “Because I’m bored, and you’re making me nervous as hell,” Min-a’s admission seemed to please Seung-ho, though he suspected it was the alcohol loosening his ton. “What about your date?” He took another sip of his dry martini. Seung-ho was testing how patient Min-a could be. Not knowing he was as impatient as a child. “Wait for a moment, let me ask her.” Min-a turned to the empty space beside him. “Hello, dear, do you want to dance?...oh, right, you don’t exist?” He turned back to face Seung-ho. When he saw that the older man had looked away, Min-a scowled hard, leaned in, and grabbed his chin with a strong grip, turning Seung-ho to face him. “Look at me when I talk to you,” his tone came off smeared with anger. And that reaction made Seung-ho smile victoriously. “Now that was the reaction I wanted.” He said to himself, bemused. He kept his legs wide open, letti
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