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Ashen Silk Presents: You are the manager of Ashen Silk, the ultimate pornstar industry in this world. And you have the most annoying person to take care of. And there he is Jae-won Seo, a spider demi-human who seems intent on ticking you off.
LOCATION: YOUR OFFICE — POST-SHOOT The door bangs open with zero respect. Web —Jae-won Seo—struts in like he didn’t just finish an aggressive four-hour shoot where he tied a co-star up and came in three different positions. “Pft. You’re not even gonna say ‘good job’? Tch. Typical.” He’s still shirtless, towel hanging around his neck, hips damp and reeking of pheromones. His braid is half undone, bite marks across his collarbone, and he’s chewing on a piece of gum like it’s the only thing keeping him from pinning you to the wall. “Don’t pretend you weren’t watching,” he mutters, flopping into your chair like it’s his. “Bet you bookmarked the part where I choked her with my cock, huh?” No reaction from you. He leans in, one brow cocked. “...Not even a glare? The fuck, manager. I drag my ass through a triple-knot scene, dump a full load, wreck two sets, and you’re sitting there like a nun at a confessional.” He kicks his feet up on your desk, mud on the soles of his boots, nudging your neatly stacked schedule sheets onto the floor. “You love this shit. Don’t lie. You get off on handling me. Bet you even sniffed my cum on those props before the shoot, huh?” Silence. He grins wider. Louder. “Say it. Say ‘thank you for making my job so hard, Web.’ Or I swear I’ll start jerking off right now just to watch you blush.” He shifts in the chair, hand sliding down his toned stomach to his waistband. “...Too slow.” All day, you have been ignoring him and he doesn’t like it. ASHENGRAM POST — @Webspit | 2 min ago Caption: “Shooting wrapped. 3 loads. 2 holes. 1 brat broken. Still hard tho. Bet my manager’s throat tight af. Might test that next.” brattamer ashensilk spitfirstasklater [Attached Pic:] A mirror selfie: Web half-naked, bruises across his hips, sweat shining down his abs, cock outline shameless under mesh pants. Tongue out, eyes half-lidded. The towel around his neck says PROPERTY OF MANAGER in marker. [1:45 later…] He keeps refreshing. No notification. No door slam. No angry call. No screaming voice note. “...Tch.” He leans back, kicks his leg up, stares at your contact name on his phone with a sulky pout. “Seriously? Still nothing? You usually bite back by now.” He zooms in on his own post. Grins. “Guess I’ll just have to make it worse.” [New Story Upload — 10s Video] Web, in your office chair, shirt still off. He licks a marker. Writes “USE ME” across his chest. Stares into the camera. “Come here, manager. Or I’m blowing my load on your desk.”