#moshang

director sqh misunderstands and accidentally hires pornstar mbj as an actor in his new movie

mbj accidentally being added to the pool of potential actors in the film.

sqh sees mbj’s headshot and instantly falls in love. his bone structure, the perfect skin and hair. he looks like stepped right out of sqh’s imagination.

so, he calls mbj for an audition

when mbj arrives, sqh is more than pleasantly surprised.

mbj is just as tall and intimidating in person! he’s perfect for the role of the king! sqh does a little happy dance and runs to the back to get coffee

as he’s making coffee, mbj comes up behind him and he startles.

“ah! mobei jun! do you need help with anything?” he asks.

the man nods. “yes, are you my partner for this scene?”

“p—partner? what do you mean?”

mbj furrows his brows. “i mean my scene partner. you’re the type i always get paired up with right? small twink?”

sqh drops his coffee on the ground. “i’m sorry what did you just call me???”

“surely you’ve been in the business long enough to know you’re a twink, right? small frame, fat ass—”

sqh’s face burns up and he can’t contain his stutter. “wh—what kind of production do you think you’re in??” he cries out.

“it’s a porn, right?”

“…”

sqh ends up fainting on the spot and sends mbj home with an embarrassed blush on his face.

but when he gets home, he can’t help the urge to search up mbj on the site and watches hours and hours of videos.

mbj was right, his usual partners *did* have sqh’s stature.

he indulges in it secretly for a few weeks when one day, he comes across an interview before the scene.

mbj is shirtless, abs on display and answering the questions from behind the camera. next to him, is a smaller man with brown hair and brown eyes.

“so, mobei jun,” the voice asks. “you could have chosen anyone to work with but it looks like you personally chose xiao ying as your partner today— any reason why?”

mbj leans back in his chair, lazily, showing off the long planes of his body. “he reminds me of someone i want.”

“oh? someone you want? does the esteemed cold king mobei jun have a secret crush?”

mbj smirks into the camera and it’s painfully attractive. “yes, you could call it that. a crush, an infatuation.”

the man behind the camera laughs. “wow! mind telling us what he’s like?”

mbj pauses for a moment. “well, he’s like xiao ying, in a way. he has brown hair and fair skin.”

sqh’s breath caught, catching a glimpse of his own brown hair and skin in the reflection of the screen.

“and does he know what you do?”

mbj hides a smile behind a large hand. “he does, actually. he fainted when he found out.”

sqh slams his laptop shut.

he presses a cold, trembling hand to his chest, feeling his chest heave. he didn’t even realize he’d been breathing this far.

it was too much.

could it be that mbj was talking about…sqh? how many other brown haired men have fainted in front of him?

he opens the laptop again, and presses play. curiosity boiling out of him.

he pressed play to hear the man behind the camera laugh. “he fainted?”

mbj nods his head fondly. sqh notes how uncomfortable xiao ying looks.

the small man makes a move, wrapping a coy arm around mbj’s bicep. “so gege, does that mean when you’re fucking me, you’ll only think of this secret crush of yours?”

he’s pouting, looking at mbj with big doe eyes. the desperate ploy for attention has sqh twisting his mouth.

“well,” mbj starts, completely unaffected by xiao ying’s provocation.

“xiao ying will never be him, but i’m gonna fuck you the way i’d fuck him. i’ll make you cry the way i want to make him cry.”

xiao ying pulls back, scandalized and the director quickly ends the interview.

sqh feels the words pool at his core, undoubtedly making him hard. he watches in rapt fascination as the interview fades into black and starts the scene.

sqh blanches at the setting.

there’s no way. no fucking way.

the twink is in a kitchen, unassumingly standing in front of the coffee machine, making coffee.

mbj comes up and hugs him from behind. his big arms engulf the smaller body and xiao ying leans into it.

from this angle, when he can’t see xiao ying’s face. sqh can replace him in his head, pretend that it’s /him/ being engulfed in mbj’s arms.

pretend that /he’s/ the one about to get fucked within an inch of his life.

his brain runs a mile a minute, imagining if this is what happened the first day they met.

if instead of telling sqh he was a porn star, he showed him. if mbj took sqh right then and there, hoisting him up on the kitchen counter and fucking into him relentlessly.

he continues watching the scene.

it’s intimate. too intimate. after weeks of watching mbj’s videos over and over again, sqh knows that mbj just doesn’t /do/ intimate.

but the way his hands explore xiao ying’s small body, running his hands up his chest, pinching his nipples—

— it’s too much for sqh to bear. the way mbj’s hand gently curls around xiao ying’s throat, restricting his air. how xiao ying’s body responds beautifully, writhing in his grasp.

sqh can’t help but touch his own neck, wondering how it would feel on himself.

then, mbj presses a searing kiss on xiao ying’s neck, drawing a high, exaggerated moan from the man.

sqh wonders what he would sound like, if mbj ever touched him like that. would he make the same noises? would mbj even like it?

sqh can’t compete with a pornstar, can he.

he fast forwards, unable to stomach watching the intimate, domestic touches. it’s too much for him.

he clicks about halfway and recoils slightly from the change in pace. gone are the sweet, touches.

mbj manhandles xiao ying until he’s bent over the kitchen counter, leg held open by mbj’s hand grasping desperately as mbj fucks him relentlessly with his huge cock.

it’s hot, and mbj’s groans send sqh over the edge.

xiao ying cums on the spot, splattering over the marble and mbj raises a hard hand and SLAPS his ass, watching the skin bounce beneath him. all the while, mbj is still splitting him open.

when xiao ying responds with a choked out groan, mbj snarles. “did i say you could come?”

sqh fast forwards again, feeling sick. he wants it to be him. he wants it to be him so badly.

when he clicks ahead, this time they’re finally in a bed. xiao ying looks completely spent and fucked out, tears streaming down his face. “i can’t— i can’t come anymore—!”

mbj is still pounding in, manhandling the boneless man on all fours and grasping him until his ass is in the air. he wraps a hand around xiao ying’s soft cock and pumps at it as he thrusts into his ass.

xiao ying’s choked moans get louder.

“you’ll come when i say you come and you’ll come as many times as i want you to— isn’t that right?”

he continues to mindlessly moan and writhe, so mbj slaps his cock. “i asked you a question, xiao ying.”

xiao ying sniffles and stutters out, “yes—yes, w-whatever you want—!”

mbj thrusts up, hitting xiao ying’s prostate and the small man collapses, trembling on the damp bed sheets.

mbj descends upon him, fucking him nice and slow. “yes that’s good,” he groans out, tipping his head back. “you’re so good, so good for me.”

sqh bites his lip, and covers his mouth as he strokes his own cock rapidly. he can’t keep in the whimpers that escape.

mbj keeps moaning out praises and it hits sqh’s weak spot.

“yes, you’re good. so good, so pliant. you’re so good to me, qinghua.”

sqh’s vision goes white.

the wave of the orgasm hits sqh hard sending him reeling back and trembling on the bed, cum spurting all over his stomach.

he lies back, boneless, letting the sounds of mbj’s grunt wash over him.

sqh must be so desperate to have imagined his name on mbj’s lips.

it was so clear, so pronounced as if he really groaned out sqh’s name at the height of his climax.

it sounded so real.

and painfully so.

sqh didn’t understand why he had such an attachment to mbj. they’d only met once, and it was a quick interaction where he got the short end of the stick.

it was nothing special— so why was he so enamored? sqh hasn’t /wanted/ a person the way he desperately wants mbj.

sqh lazily reaches to shut hit laptop and throws his face into his hands.

he’s well and truly fucked— and not in the way that he wants to be.

when he goes into work the next day, he thinks he’s going crazy.

before, he’d never heard of mbj— and all of a sudden, it seems as if his name was being spoken all around him.

mbj had breached mainstream media.

media raved and fought over the controversy of having a pornstar star in ads and modeling gigs.

sqh, as a director, took the brunt of it. “didn’t you call him in for an interview, director shang? you should have hired him.”

he endures the whispers all around him, girls and guys secretly pulling up his videos at work, admiring his physique.

“i’d let him rail me,” one employee says.

“you know he has a crush, though— right?” the other replies in a hushed tone.

sqh pauses.

“a crush? how do you know?”

“he said it in one of those pre-porn interviews or whatever. he fucked xiao ying within an inch of his life, pretending it was his crush, apparently.”

“oh my god!”

“do we know who it is?”

“well, no— but it’s a guy and he has brown hair and light skin? looks like xiao ying.”

“poor xiao ying”

“for real, for real— you know what though, i think mobei actually said his crush’s name by accident in that porn.”

“oh my god??!”

“yeah i saw it in an article. they took down the actual thing this morning though. but i think the name was qing…uh, qing—”

“qinghua?” the girls laughed

“like the director? no wayy!”

“hey but he does have brown hair and light skin, same body type as xiao ying”

“wait and didn’t director shang call mobei in for a casting before?”

“oh my god! could mobei jun’s secret crush actually be director shang?”

sqh ran out, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. his heart beat wildly. could it really be him?

and then he halted in step, the reality of their conversation hitting him like a freight train.

“i think he accidentally said his crush’s name in the porn.” is what she said.

did that mean that sqh

wasn’t hallucinating?

that when sqh had one of the best (and most shameful) orgasms of his life, imagining his name on mbj’s lips— it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

with shaky hands, he hastily pulled out his phone, typing to the site and tried pulling up the video.

just like the employees said, the video was taken down.

but after some internet sleuthing, he found a clip of the video in low quality circling around twitter.

he held it up to his ears and and winced at the abrupt the sound of wet, slapping skin.

the sound quality was a little botched but the words were loud and clear.

“yes, you’re good.

so good, so pliant.

you’re so good to me,

qinghua.”

sqh dropped his phone on the ground.

after recovering, sqh knew what he needed to do.

he ran to his casting director and slammed his hand down on the table, startling the old man.

“we need to cast mbj as the king.”

the man scratched his beard. "director shang, you already had your chance and you sent him away. now with his new fame, there's no way he's coming back to us."

sqh squinted his eyes. "then we'll make him come back to us. tell his management that i'm specifically asking for him."

the man let out a resigned sigh. "alright, alright. i'll do it. but is there any reason you need him that badly? his reputation could harm the film. if it's about money, hua cheng already stepped up to the role."

"it's not about the money. i just need to confirm something."

the man was reluctant at first, not believing that he'd get a hold of mbj. the pornstar turned model was highly sought after and most likely wouldn't want to take a role in a fantasy movie.

and that's what happened at first. the managers rejected him almost immediately.

that was, until he name-dropped shang qinghua.

soon after, sqh would be leisurely strolling on the set design when the man would run in, face struck with disbelief.

"we got him! i can't believe we got him!" he cheered.

"mobei jun?"

"yes! i said your name, just like you asked and they immediately put him through!"

just like that, sqh's plan was set in motion.

now, he could finally meet mbj in person. settle things like adults. finally get a piece of the pornstar pie.

but deep down, he was panicking.

how does one confront mbj in this sort of situation?

tell him that he's jerked off to mbj's videos countless times? tell him he knows that mbj moaned his name out loud? what if it was a different qinghua?

and soon, the thoughts swallowed him whole. he was sent into a spiraling pool. he couldn't confront mbj.

come the day of mbj's arrival at the studio, sqh pretended he was sick.

he coughed pitifully into the speaker, tightening his voice. "i--cough-- i can't make it today, or tomorrow, it's so bad," he said. "you can talk to mobei jun for me though."

he coughed again just in case.

he hung up before the casting director could say anything.

and so now, stuck in bed, sqh leisurely pulls up mbj's videos, sighing repeatedly. he thought about what today would have been like, if he wasn't so much of a coward.

he burrows into his blankets.

as he's mindlessly scrolling through mbj's porn catalog that's still up on the internet, he gets a phone call.

sqh prepares his sick voice. "hello?" he croaks out.

the casting director's voice is hurried and panicked. "i tried to stop him-- i didn't want to tell him but--"

sqh was overwhelmed with the sudden rush, momentarily forgetting that he was pretending to be sick. "woah, woah-- what happened? who did you try to stop?"

"mobei jun!!" the man cried out. "i'm sorry director, i tried-- i tried but he insisted and now he's headed to your house."

sqh shot up in his bed. "what do you meAN HE'S HEADED TO MY HOUSE?!" he screeched.

"when he arrived, he asked where you were and i told him you were at home sick. and-- and then he cornered me for your address and-- and--"

"--anD YOU GAVE IT TO HIM?!"

sqh felt a migraine arriving.

and almost as if hardship after hardship were being thrown at him, the doorbell rang.

once. twice.

sqh dropped his head. "this is your fault. i'm firing you."
he shakily got out of bed and headed towards the door.

and just like the casting director said, outside of sqh's door, a tall, looming mbj stood holding a bright pink bag.

"shang qinghua," he greeted in a low voice, sending shivers down sqh's spine. his eyes ran up and down sqh's body.

sqh has heard this voice many times within the past month, often taking pleasure in it's low timbre.

"i heard that you're sick," he says. mbj's eyes linger on sqh's low necked shirt. "you look sick."

sqh was minorly offended at that. yes, he knew that he just rolled out of bed and was wearing his pajamas. yes, he knew that his hair was a bird's nest.

but he *was* pretending to be sick. the comment stung a little.

"mobei jun," sqh greeted. "i look sick, huh?"

"you do." mbj stepped forward and sqh stepped back. and he kept moving until he was fully inside of the apartment and shut the door behind him.

"very, very sick. your face is flushed and you're breathing heavily. because you're sick, right?"

sqh gulped.

mbj looked like sin incarnate, an unfitting sight for sqh's shitty apartment. his masculine scent penetrated his nose and sqh knew exactly what muscles flexed beneath his black sweater.

"yes-- yes i'm sick. and you shouldn't be here."

mbj moved closer until sqh was backed up against his counter. he was having a major case of deja vu.

sqh needed to get out before he burst. he felt his body respond naturally to mbj's predatorial prowl.

his breath hitched as mbj leaned in until their breath intermingled.

sqh’s eyes flitted to mbj’s full lips that were so, so close. they were plush and pink, so incredibly seductive.

without meaning to, sqh’s body arched forward, lips puckering. his eyes fluttered closed as their faces got closer.

but instead of those pillowy lips, something small and plastic was shoved into his mouth.

sqh’s eyes flew open and looked down to find a thermometer hanging out of his mouth.

his face went red at mbj’s amused, knowing eyes.

“hmm, ninety-eight. director shang doesn’t look very sick to me.”

sqh blanched. “no—! no, i’m sick— sick for other reasons! i, um— i—”

“i think director shang didn’t want to see me today and he faked being sick.”

okay!! so there is some porn coming up () and i planned a bit of it out— so expect come tomorrow morning or so

for now, frommm the top! https://twitter.com/aksnevv/status/1518973018021797888

the man hit the target so accurately, it was almost frightening.

sqh tried to move away from the man, but mbj’s arms unbudgingly boxed him in on both sides.

mbj gave him an evil, evil smirk at sqh’s panicking figure. when it was clear that sqh wouldn’t answer, he continued.

“you know,” mbj said, an innocent tilt to his voice, “if you really didn’t want to see me, then why did you request me back by name, huh?”

he leaned in impossibly close, nosing at sqh’s neck. sqh shuddered and placed a hand over his mouth to smother any sounds.

“why did you demand my presence in your film, if you didn’t want to see me? is it because of the video?” he pulled back to look at sqh’s quivering face with a stare so dominant, it rendered sqh defenseless.

it penetrated every fiber of his being.

“did you see my moan out your name as i fucked someone else? as i fucked your replacement?”

mbj was cruel, so cruel. his gruff voice dipped in honey and caressing every inch of sqh’s body.

then, mbj placed a gentle palm on sqh’s face and sqh subconsciously leaned into it.

when he breathed out, it fanned all over sqh’s face. “tell me, qinghua. did you watch the video?”

sqh, completely engulfed by mbj’s dominant presence, could only nod shyly. the taller man’s eyes darkened.

his stare was like a drug. “what is it about you, hm? after that day, i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

mbj’s hand moved down, from his cheek to his chest. it lingered around a nipple before moving lower until it rested on sqh’s hip.

sqh’s breath hitched as mbj leaned down until their foreheads were knocked.

he marveled at the figure before him, a man he’s watched countless times, handsome face just pixels on the screen. seeing in person was…surreal.

sqh wanted to pinch himself, wake up from this dream.

mbj tightened the grip on his waist and yanked him forward, until his crotch met sqh’s. then, he grinded slow and tantalizing.

sqh gasped, feeling the hardness beneath his own. he tipped his head back in pleasure, baring his neck. mbj leaned into it, burrowing his face in it.

a noise rang out from the room next door, a ringtone.

both mbj and sqh froze in place. sqh sighed, knowing it was the casting director again.

mbj huffed a breath into sqh’s neck and he quivered under the feeling. “you should go pick that up qinghua.”

the tight grip on his hip said otherwise.

sqh looked mbj in the eyes and replied, voice shaky, “what if i don’t want to?”

mbj growled something deep and primal. this was the first sign of reciprocation, of consent. that sqh wanted it as bad as mbj did.

the phone kept ringing.

“but maybe you should pick it up.”

his voice was final, with no room for argument. sqh had no choice but to listen. but he didn’t miss the mischievous glint in mbj’s eye. just what was he planning?

mbj released his hold and sqh shakily walked to his bedroom, where the phone was

walking away from mbj, it felt like he was exposing his back to a predator.

he sped up, trying to get to the phone as soon as possible. quickly, he sobered up— the scenario clearing up in his head. he almost…almost…with mobei jun.

shaking his head, he found his phone ringing phone and answered it hastily.

blissfully aware of the predator that prowled behind him.

“what?” he snapped.

“what crawled up your ass?” a sharp voice replied. sqh pulled back his phone to look at the caller ID.

[shen yuan ]

sqh sighed. “bro, it’s really not the time. call me back again, in like, never. okay?”

there was an offended huff on the line. “um excuse me? i just wanted to ask if you ended up casting luo binghe in the new movie.”

sqh hung his head low. sy cockblocked him for /this/?

“yes, yes i did. okay? and you’re assigned to him as his stylist. you can thank me later. alright, i’m hanging up now.”

a thud. “you whAT—?”

sqh hung up and put his phone on do not disturb. he massaged his temples.

then, a breath hitched behind him and sqh whirled around.

looming at the entrance to his bedroom was mbj, who had followed him there.

but he wasn’t looking at sqh at all. his gaze was wide and locked on something in the far right of the room.

sqh followed his line of vision.

what was in the far right of his room, again?

his eyes landed on his desk nestled in the far right corner. oh yes, his desk.
but why would mbj be looking at his desk—?

oh.

sqh’s stomach dropped.

on the desk, were magazines and articles about mbj and starring mbj. shoots he posed and modeled for.

sqh blanched in horror.

and just next to his desk was his bed. the bed that still housed his open laptop where mbj’s porn was paused.

his hands went cold. he whipped back to mbj, already equipped with apologies. “i’m— i’m sorry! i can explain—”

mbj stepped forward and interrupted him. “so i guess i’m not the only one, huh?”

“what?” sqh asked. mbj’s face was strangely jovial, eyes light and a light, light blush dusting his cheeks.

“it looks like you’ve been thinking about me too, qinghua.”

sqh backed up, humiliated and confused. “you—you don’t find me disgusting?”

mbj’s head tilted to the side, a questioning gesture. “why would i find you disgusting?” when he moved closer, his voice dropped an octave.

“i’ve jerked off to the thought of you many times in my head. your cute body. i’ve watched your films, just because they were directed by you.
i moaned out your name while i was fucking someone else.”

sqh went red at the deep voice. they were centimeters apart.

“so tell me, qinghua. do you find me disgusting?” it sounded like a trick question, a lesson to be taught.

sqh shook his head. he didn’t think he had it in him to even think of mbj as disgusting.

“then imagine how i feel about you.”

sqh stepped back again, shaking his head. this was wrong. it was all wrong.
sqh accidentally called a pornstar into his movie casting and somehow ended up enamoured. “you—you don’t know me. and i don’t know you,” he said.

and once again, mbj stepped forward, losing the space.

“then let me get to know you.”

and when mbj grabbed sqh’s waist, pulling them taut against one another, sqh didn’t bother stifling the moan that came out.

and there was no warning, no signal— nothing that could help sqh prepare, when mbj pressed their lips together.