*Click, click, click,click, toototoot*

I pushed through the door after entering my rented room's passcode, only to be shoved back.

Sigh, it's gotten stuck again. You're never going to give me a break, are you? 

I twisted the knob hard and gave it a little kick. Even though I'm irritated, I couldn't afford to be reckless. I don’t want to sell my kidney just to purchase another door, thank you very much. 

I stepped inside with only the light from my little digital clock pulsing 3:42 AM to guide me. Yes, I am aware. Don’t remind me that I still have another miserable day to live, you jerk. 

As I went to the fridge for a glass of water, I accidentally bumped into the dining table. 

Ugh, tell me why did I buy this? It's just a waste of space, no one ever eats here anyway. Did I expect myself to eat here alone all the time? I rolled my eyes. 

…

  "Ugh," I screamed as I fell backward onto my bed. I winced, "Ack!" It hurts every time since it's such a small, thin-foamed bed. Why don't I learn? I obviously need to review some physics—was it Newton? Einstein? Lincoln?—laws again. 

Sigh, I have failed my teachers, as always.

I squirm around my bed, lost in thought. Hmm. Is it better to take a shower, or not to take one? 

Sigh, the dilemma of every lazy yet exploited teenager. Okay, I’ll just shower tomorrow. Then why don't I, at the very least, get dressed?

 Nah, you should just sleep, Tae-ri.

…

Okay, so my mind has decided to be a bitch and won't let me sleep at all. 

I mean, I’ve been trying for the last 5 minutes?! I rolled around again and reached out with my right hand to retrieve my phone from my bag, which I had just tossed somewhere about here. 

Sh*t, where is it? Should I go up and get it, or should I not? 

Fine, I’ll get up. 

…

Wow, Tae-ri, you’re not tired when it comes to your phone, but with your personal hygiene, you are?! Yeah, sorry for failing you self, as usual. 

I fell back onto my bed again. "Ack!" Dammit, why am I not considering the consequences of my actions before I take them? 

I checked my phone's notifications and found that Mimi had posted "our" travel details in our Thime group chat. I cautiously pressed the x button to avoid accidentally opening it. What they know is that I arrived home about 8 hours ago and am currently sleeping. But in truth, I had just returned home—I mean, to my rented place, which rarely feels like home—from working at SIGA bar.

I used my phone's search function on my phone to look for Yoo Dong-Han in Log. Book. The name appears in the search field before I can even begin to type it in. 

Damn, I most probably have paid more attention to this guy than to my subjects in school, yikes. 

Golu-Golu, the world's most popular search engine, may one day report me to the authorities for stalking because of how many times I've searched for this person. 

I clicked on his name and went to check out the new photos he'd posted 7 hours prior again. 4,629 likes already? Welp, no surprise there.

In the photos, he is with his handsome friends, but of course, he is the most attractive. It's self-evident. Even with just a sleeveless shirt, Yoo Dong-Han strikingly stands out from the rest of the group. Plus, he dyed his hair back to black and his face and arms were shimmering from his sweat. 

Too much detail? Yep, too much detail. Sorry.

The air suddenly begins to feel hot. I began to feel hot.

 Sweat drips down my brow as I fan my face. My face heats up as an unmeasurable tingling and itching sensation creeps down to the area of my crotch. 

I can see where this is leading. I’d stop it, but I can’t. 

Sh*t, hormones again.

I let the phone go down beside me. My hands go up on their own, untying the laces of my jogging pants. I started to pull it down. As I roll sideways to fix my phone so I can see Yoo Dong-Han's picture better, I rub my still boxer-covered swelling region with my right hand.

"Aahh," I moaned loudly. 

I couldn't stand it any longer and had enough of my self-teasing, so I removed the only garment that remained on my lower half.  

I stroked my dick up and down as I took in the captivating creature in front of me. I stuffed the hem of my shirt in my mouth and gasped repeatedly. I slowly closed my eyes as the friction from my palms made my dick stiffen more. 

I couldn’t help but imagine I was with Yoo Dong-Han. As an idol trainee, he had just ended his daily practice session in my fantasy. He’s all hot and exhausted. But the moment he laid eyes on me, he got this bewitching glint in his gaze. He inches closer and pulls me in. 

As much as I tried to push myself away from him, fearing that someone would see us, he wouldn't budge. He rips my clothes to shreds while shoving his tongue into me. 

My dick’s skin is left with a trailing flair as I do more rapid strokes in the real world. 

He takes off his shirt. Then he bites my neck and stuffs my hands into his trousers while he pumps his dick with them. 

I couldn’t finish my imagination as I felt the cum escaping out of me.

I closed my eyes in ecstasy and finished off with a loud moan. I'm gasping for air. How quickly did I finish? Just 10 minutes?

As I calmed down, recollections of what I had done began to resurface. Post-masturbation wisdom, happens all the time. 

Damn, how perverted am I? Didn’t I promise myself to quit this 2 days ago?! Sh*t. Tae-ri, you're the worst! 

This is why you'll never be happy. This is why you will never find somebody to love you. You're such a scumbag, aren't you? 

Whatever. I just do it in my bedroom anyway. I’m sure I’m not the only one. It’s just in my imagination-it’s not true anyway. I could never do it-I could never meet him in real life. So, it’s okay, right? Right? 

Ugh, Tae-ri!!

.

.

.

Narrator’s POV

Morning arrived, and a particular cock persisted in making noise and waking up the neighbors. 

“Ugh. Ahhh. Ackk. Fuck! Uhhh. Hah. Hah.” 

Kim Tae-ri masturbated again as soon as he awoke, aroused from his wet dream about Yoo Dong-han. 

I believe I made a typo in the narrative description; there is no "nighttime pervert." A pervert is a pervert, no matter the time of day. 

Yikes.