By the time Wooyoung dropped into your chair, you had already been working for nearly three hours. The dressing room had settled into the particular kind of controlled chaos that always came before a schedule. Open makeup palettes covered half the counter, curling irons and straighteners heated beside rows of hair products, garment bags hung from nearly every available hook, and someone’s phone was playing music from the other side of the room beneath the constant overlapping conversations between members and staff. You had long since learned how to work through all of it without really hearing any of it.
Wooyoung, unfortunately, was considerably harder to tune out.
“You’re pulling my hair.”
“I’m brushing it.”
“Violently.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Will I?”
You met his eyes in the mirror. “Do you want to?” Wooyoung’s mouth snapped shut, although the grin spreading across it ruined whatever wounded expression he had attempted. “See, this is why I like you.”
“You like me because I tolerate you.”
“Exactly.”
A laugh escaped you as you ran your fingers through the front of his hair one last time, separating a few strands until they fell exactly where you wanted them. His makeup was already nearly finished, leaving you with little more than setting everything before sending him off to wardrobe. “Okay, don’t touch your face.” Wooyoung immediately lifted his hand and you slapped it away.
“I didn’t!”
“You were about to.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know exactly what that hand was about to do.”
He muttered something beneath his breath about workplace hostility while you leaned closer to check beneath his eyes, thumb lightly smoothing one tiny spot before you straightened again. “I just need the setting spray.” You turned toward the other end of the counter. It took maybe three seconds. Your fingers had barely closed around the bottle before you heard the scrape of the styling chair behind you, followed immediately by Wooyoung’s startled, “Yah!”
You turned back and stared at Wooyoung who was standing beside the chair looking personally betrayed by the universe. Yunho was sitting in it now. Your boyfriend had apparently walked over at some point without you noticing, grabbed Wooyoung beneath the arms, hauled him straight out of your chair and replaced him like this was an entirely reasonable thing for a grown man to do. For several seconds, you said nothing. And neither did Yunho. He simply looked at you. His dyed ash brown hair was still untouched, falling softly across his forehead and slightly into his eyes. He was already dressed for the first portion of their schedule in a crisp white shirt beneath a gray sweater vest, tie sitting neatly against his chest, silver jewelry catching the dressing room lights whenever he moved. Gum shifting lazily between his teeth as he settled farther into your chair.
You lowered the setting spray. “I’m not finished with him yet.” Yunho arched one eyebrow. That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just one eyebrow slowly rising while his jaw continued its lazy movement. Chew. Chew. POP. Your eyes narrowed as Wooyoung looked between you both. “Thank you. I was wondering if anybody cared that I was just forcibly evicted.” Yunho glanced at him. Then looked back at you. “I’m ready.”
“I can see that.”
His mouth twitched as pointed toward the chair he’d abandoned across the room. “Get up.” Yunho didn’t move. “Yunho.” Another slow chew of his gum made your eye twitch. Something about his expression immediately put you on alert. You knew that face. You’d been dating him long enough to recognize most versions of Jeong Yunho without needing him to say a word. You knew sleepy Yunho, hungry Yunho, irritated Yunho, clingy Yunho, horny Yunho, competitive Yunho and the particularly dangerous combination of bored and energetic Yunho. This was something else. There was far too much innocence on his face. And Yunho was never more suspicious than when he looked innocent.
“I have to get ready too,” he said.
“And you will. After Wooyoung.”
“But I’m already sitting here.”
Behind him, Wooyoung’s mouth fell open. “Because you picked me up!” Yunho ignored him. You stared at your boyfriend and he just stared back. Chewing. Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before returning to his eyes. “Get out of my chair.” For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face so quickly you nearly missed it. His jaw stopped but his eyes remained fixed on yours for half a beat longer than necessary before the gum shifted into his cheek and that maddeningly mild expression returned. “No.” Wooyoung made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “Oh, he’s lost his fucking mind.”
You couldn’t disagree. Yunho was playful. Yunho teased. Yunho occasionally seemed to wake up and decide his only purpose on earth was making you laugh until you couldn’t breathe. But this? You stepped closer and he watched every inch of your approach. “Move.” His eyes lifted to yours. “No.” There it was again. That tiny change. You couldn’t identify it, especially because Yunho ruined any chance you had of studying him by blowing a bubble directly in your face. Your expression flattened as the pale pink bubble expanded between his lips until it popped. Yunho sucked the gum back into his mouth and smiled and Wooyoung immediately turned away, shoulders shaking.
You looked at him. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re laughing.”
“Because this has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m just happy to be alive.”
You looked back down at Yunho who had the audacity to look pleased with himself. “Did you wake up irritating,” you asked, “or is this something you’ve been working toward all morning?” His smile widened. “You kissed me this morning.”
“I can make mistakes.”
That got a laugh from him, bright and immediate, his nose scrunching as he tipped his head back. For one dangerous second, affection threatened to dismantle your irritation completely. Then he reached out and hooked two fingers through the belt loop of your jeans. Your eyes dropped as his fingers remained there. “Yunho.”
“What?”
“Let go.”
“But you’re standing all the way over there.”
You stared at the approximately six inches separating you. “Tragic.”
“I missed you.”
“You saw me twenty minutes ago.”
“That was twenty minutes ago.”
Wooyoung made an exaggerated gagging noise. Without looking away from you, Yunho lifted his free hand and gave him the middle finger and you almost laughed. Instead, you caught Yunho’s wrist and removed his fingers from your jeans. His eyes followed the movement, then lifted back to your face. “Chair.”
“I’m in one.”
“The other one.”
“But you’re here.”
“And Wooyoung was here first.”
“He doesn’t need you anymore.”
“I am literally unfinished,” Wooyoung protested and Yunho twisted around to inspect him. “You look fine.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Go ask someone else to spray you.”
Wooyoung stared at the back of his head before looking at you. “Control your boyfriend.”
“I’m trying.”
Yunho turned around again, immediately correcting, “She loves me.” Your eyebrows rose. “Currently under review.” He grinned around his gum. And there was something about that grin that bothered you. Not because it was irritating. But because it looked victorious. Like somehow, despite being ordered out of your chair twice and threatened with the possible revocation of your affection, Yunho had gotten exactly what he’d wanted. You just couldn’t figure out what the hell that was. “Fine.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly as you stepped away. For the first time since stealing the chair, Yunho looked uncertain as you walked straight past him and toward Wooyoung. “Come here.” Wooyoung practically skipped toward you. “Oh, gladly.” You shook the setting spray, held it up and misted his face while Yunho remained sitting several feet away, waiting as you deliberately took your time. “Eyes closed.”
“They are.”
“Your left one’s twitching.”
“Your boyfriend assaulted me. I’m traumatized.”
“Wooyoung.”
“Sorry.”
You sprayed him once more before fanning his face with your hand. “There. Now you’re done.”
“Beautiful?”
“Debatable.”
He clutched his chest as behind him came a sharp little pop. You slowly looked past Wooyoung to Yunho sitting exactly where you’d left him. Chewing his gum. Watching you as another bubble began forming. You pointed the setting spray at him. “Don’t.” The bubble stopped growing. And for one second, neither of you moved. Then Yunho deliberately kept blowing. Your mouth fell open as the bubble grew until it covered half his mouth before bursting across his lips. Wooyoung whispered, “He’s doing it on purpose.”
“I know.”
What you didn’t know was why. Yunho peeled the gum from his bottom lip with his tongue, looking entirely too pleased with himself as you crossed the room toward him, him thinking about how three nights earlier, you’d snapped at him for the first time in months. Neither of you had mentioned what happened afterward. More specifically, Yunho hadn’t mentioned the startling little discovery he’d made when your patience finally broke, your voice sharpened, and you’d told your ridiculously clingy boyfriend to sit down and behave. He hadn’t expected the heat that had immediately crawled beneath his skin. Hadn’t expected two simple words in your irritated voice to follow him around for the next three days. And he certainly hadn’t told you that he’d thought about it an embarrassing number of times since. So this morning, he had apparently decided to conduct an experiment.
You stopped directly in front of him and he tipped his head back to look at you.
“Are you finished?”
“With my gum?”
“With being a brat.”
Something flashed behind his eyes. Yunho couldn’t quite suppress the tiny curve at the corner of his mouth at that word. Brat. “No.” You stared down at him as Yunho stared up at you. And somewhere behind you, Wooyoung whispered to himself, “He’s going to die today.”
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The first round of group photos should have given you a break from Yunho. Should have. Once everyone had been ushered onto set, there wasn’t much for you to do besides hover near the monitors with the rest of the styling team and watch for anything that needed fixing between shots. Hair out of place, shine under the lights, a collar sitting wrong, anything the camera would catch that nobody else would notice until somebody was staring at the pictures later. For the moment, everything looked good. You took advantage of the rare lull by leaning against the edge of one of the equipment tables and taking a long sip of your iced coffee. The drink was mostly melted ice by now, but you didn’t care. You’d bought it on the way in that morning, forgotten about it twice, rediscovered it once, and had been surviving on sporadic mouthfuls ever since.
Across the studio, ateez were arranged in front of the backdrop while the photographer called instructions.
“Yunho, little closer to Mingi.”
Yunho shifted.
“San, chin down slightly.”
The shutter clicked rapidly as you watched over the rim of your cup, your attention automatically drifting toward your boyfriend despite yourself. Annoying or not, the bastard photographed beautifully. His earlier sweater vest had survived your eventual styling session, his hair now properly arranged despite the fact that he’d made the process unnecessarily difficult. Under the studio lights, the softer brown strands framed his face exactly the way you’d intended, a few carefully placed pieces falling over his forehead. You’d threatened him twice while doing it and he’d looked delighted both times. Which was still bothering you. The group shifted positions for another set. Wooyoung moved in front of Yunho, San leaned against Seonghwa, and Hongjoong immediately started complaining when Mingi nearly stepped on his shoe and backed into Jongho.
“Don’t move,” the photographer called.
“I didn’t,” Mingi protested.
“You absolutely did,” Hongjoong muttered.
The shutter started again and you smiled into your straw. Eventually the photographer lowered the camera and checked the monitor. “Good. Let’s move into individuals.” The members immediately scattered. Hongjoong was called first while the others drifted toward the chairs lining the side of the studio. Staff descended briefly to make adjustments, and you set your coffee down long enough to fix one piece of Yeosang’s hair that had separated beneath the lights. Yunho went several people later. And, admittedly, you watched. Not obviously. You had standards. But every time you pretended to check something on the counter beside you, your eyes somehow wandered back toward the set. He was good at this. Infuriatingly good.
One moment he was smiling brightly at something the photographer said, all wide eyes and easy warmth, and the next his expression settled into something quieter as he angled his face toward the camera. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders relaxed. Jaw tilted just enough for the light to catch it. You took another sip of coffee as Wooyoung appeared beside you. “You’re staring.”
“I’m working.”
“At his face?”
“His hair.”
“Sure.”
You elbowed him without looking and he laughed and wandered away before you could retaliate properly.
“Good, Yunho. Last few.”
The shutter fired several more times. Yunho changed poses effortlessly before the photographer finally lowered the camera. “Got it.” Yunho bowed slightly. “Thank you.” Someone called Yeosang’s name next, and Yunho stepped away from the backdrop while staff moved into reset. You’d already stopped paying attention to him. Your focus had shifted toward Yeosang as he walked onto set, mentally checking his hair beneath the lights while you lifted your cup and took another drink. Someone beside you asked a question about the products you’d used earlier, and you turned your head to answer, gesturing toward your styling case. Which was why you didn’t see Yunho coming. You only felt your fingers suddenly become lighter.
You looked down and your coffee was gone. “What the…” You turned. Yunho was already walking away from you with your cup in his hand. Your mouth fell open. “Yunho.” He stopped and turned, your straw between his lips and drank as you stared at him. He stared directly back at you while taking a long, obnoxiously leisurely sip. There wasn’t even much left. Which apparently Yunho realized at exactly the same time, because his cheeks hollowed slightly as he pulled harder through the straw. The horrible rattling sound of ice and the last remnants of coffee filled the space between you and your eyes widened. No he fucking didn’t.
Yunho pulled the straw from his mouth, looked down into the cup and gave it a little shake. Then he looked at you as you slowly pushed yourself away from the table. “Did you seriously just finish my coffee?” Yunho swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
He lifted the cup and peered inside as though evidence might spontaneously materialize. “There’s ice.”
“Yunho.”
“You can have that.”
You stared at him in disbelief as he held the cup toward you. You didn’t take it. Instead, you looked from the empty plastic cup to your boyfriend’s face, where that same suspiciously innocent expression from earlier had begun creeping back into place. And something in you finally snapped. “You’re being an ass.” Yunho went completely still. It was so immediate that you almost thought you’d genuinely hurt his feelings. The playful expression disappeared. His fingers stopped moving around the cup. Even his jaw seemed to lock for half a second and your irritation faltered. Because that wasn’t normally how you spoke to him.
You teased him constantly. Called him annoying when he was being annoying. Threatened bodily harm whenever he stole the blankets or put his freezing hands underneath your shirt in bed. Threatened to get yourself off without him if he didn’t finish his game quick enough. But Yunho was rarely actually an ass. That was part of why his behavior today was so strange. “Baby…” Then you saw it. His eyes changed. Not hurt. Not offended. Something warmer. Your mouth closed as Yunho’s gaze stayed on your face for one strangely heavy second. Then another. And slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted. Your eyebrows pulled together as he smirked. Actually fucking smirked.
Your concern evaporated instantly. “Oh, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know what.”
He tipped his head slightly, shoving another piece of gum into his mouth. The gum shifted between his teeth as you stared at his mouth before looking back into his eyes. “What is wrong with you today?”
“Nothing.”
“You threw Wooyoung out of my chair.”
“He was taking too long.”
“You kept touching everything on my station.”
“I was bored.”
“You wouldn’t sit still.”
“I had energy.”
“And now you stole my coffee.”
Yunho glanced down at the empty cup. “You weren’t drinking it.”
“I was literally holding it.”
His lips twitched and your eyes narrowed. There it was again. That barely contained satisfaction. It made absolutely no sense. “You are seriously getting on my nerves.” Yunho’s tongue pressed briefly into his cheek as his gaze dipped to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. And something about the movement made your stomach tighten. “Am I?”
Your head pulled back slightly. What the fuck was that? Before you could examine the question too closely, someone called your name from across the studio. “Y/N! Touch up!” You looked toward the set. Yeosang was waiting while one of the photographers pointed toward his hair. “Coming!” You turned back toward Yunho and snatched the empty cup from his hand and his smile widened.
“You owe me another coffee.”
“I’ll buy you one.”
“You’re buying me two.”
“Okay.”
“And stop being annoying.”
“Okay.”
You stared at him suspiciously as Yunho smiled sweetly. Far too sweetly. “Go work, baby.” Your eyes narrowed further before you turned away. You made it three steps…… POP. You stopped. Behind you, there was silence. You slowly turned your head…. Yunho stood exactly where you’d left him, arms folded comfortably over his chest, chewing his gum and looking somewhere off toward the set as though he had absolutely no idea why you’d stopped. You stared at him and his eyes slid toward yours. And there it was. That tiny fucking smirk.
You pointed at him. “Keep it up.” For one fraction of a second, Yunho’s entire expression changed again. His smile disappeared. His eyes sharpened. Then you turned and headed toward Yeosang before you could catch him slowly bite down on his gum and let out a groan at his dick twitching.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Dinner had been Mingi’s idea. By the time the shoot finally wrapped, everyone was exhausted, hungry, and operating on the collective agreement that if food didn’t happen soon, somebody was going to become unpleasant. San had found a restaurant less than fifteen minutes from the studio, Seonghwa had approved it after inspecting the menu, and somehow what started as the four of them grabbing dinner had turned into you being dragged along before you’d even finished packing your styling kit. Not that you minded. What you did mind was your boyfriend apparently making decisions about your evening without consulting you. “I’m going home with you.” You stopped halfway through zipping your jacket. Yunho was standing beside you, completely casual, phone in one hand while the other shoved itself into his coat pocket.
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
You stared at him. “Interesting.”
His eyes lifted from his phone. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just nice finding out where you’re sleeping tonight at the same time you apparently did.”
“I already knew.”
“Of course you did.”
Mingi snorted from somewhere behind him but Yunho ignored him and stepped closer, reaching down to take your styling bag before you could pick it up. You immediately caught the handle. I can carry it.”
“I know.”
“Then give it to me.”
“No.”
Your eyes narrowed and Yunho just smiled. For fuck’s sake. You released the bag because fighting a man built like a refrigerator over twenty pounds of hair products wasn’t how you wanted to end your workday. “Yeosang knows you’re abandoning him?”
“I’m not abandoning him.”
“You live together.”
“He’ll survive one night.”
From near the door, San glanced over. “You stayed at her place two nights ago.”
“See?” Yunho said. “He’s keeping track.”
“That’s not what he meant,” Seonghwa replied and Yunho shrugged, slinging your bag over his shoulder. You watched him for another second. Something was deeply wrong with your boyfriend today. Not wrong wrong. Just…. weird. He’d been attached to you since the shoot ended. Not in the usual affectionate Yunho way either. He’d been hovering. Appearing beside you while you packed. Taking things out of your hands. Finding excuses to touch you whenever he passed. And somehow, despite spending the entire day deliberately irritating you, he’d decided he was coming home with you. Apparently without considering the possibility that you might leave him on the sidewalk. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s been pissing me off since this morning.”
His attention snapped back to you. There. Again. That tiny pause. You caught it this time and your eyes narrowed slightly. Yunho recovered almost immediately though, mouth curving into that lazy smile he’d been wearing far too often today. “You’d miss me.”
“Try me.”
Mingi made a quiet sound behind his fist making Yunho turn. “Do you have something to say?”
“Nope.”
“You keep laughing.”
“I’m having a good day.”
“Your day is about to get worse.”
Mingi’s grin widened. “See, Y/N? He’s being an ass.” Yunho’s head whipped toward him which only seemed to delight Mingi. Yunho’s expression changed for barely a second before he rolled his eyes and headed toward the door with your bag. You stared after him alongside Mingi. Then your boyfriend’s best friend looked at you. You furrowed your brows. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mingi.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re making a face.”
“What face?”
“That face.”
“I have one face.”
“You have several, unfortunately.”
He laughed and threw an arm around your shoulders as you followed everyone outside. “I’m just enjoying whatever the hell is wrong with your boyfriend today.”
“So am I,” San said.
“You’re all very supportive,” Yunho called from ahead and Seonghwa sighed. “Can we please eat before this becomes another argument?” It did not become another argument. Mostly because fifteen minutes later, you were seated in the corner of a small Korean barbecue restaurant with enough food arriving at the table to distract everyone from Yunho’s ongoing personality crisis. The restaurant was warm and crowded, filled with conversation and the constant hiss of meat hitting grills. Jackets had been tossed over the backs of chairs, sleeves pushed up, and after spending the entire day surrounded by cameras and staff, everyone seemed to visibly deflate the second food appeared.
You sat between Yunho and Mingi. A mistake, you realized. Not because of Mingi. But because Yunho had apparently interpreted being off the clock as permission to become even more attached to you. His thigh had been pressed against yours beneath the table since you sat down. You shifted once and he followed. You shifted again and so did he. The third time, you turned your head. Yunho was calmly watching San argue with Seonghwa over whether the meat needed another thirty seconds. You looked beneath the table. His knee was firmly against yours and you nudged it away. Three seconds later it returned.
“Yunho.”
“Hm?”
“Move your leg. I can barely move.”
He looked down as though discovering the existence of his own body for the first time. “Why?”
“Because you’re crowding me.”
“You don’t like being close to me?”
“Not when you’re doing it specifically because I told you to move.”
His mouth twitched and Mingi lowered his chopsticks. You caught the movement from the corner of your eye as Yunho finally shifted his leg away. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
You stared at him as he smiled and then turned back toward your food before you committed a felony in front of witnesses. For several minutes, everything remained peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful. Mingi and San started discussing something that had happened during the shoot. Seonghwa was busy cutting meat and periodically putting pieces onto everyone else’s plates because apparently feeding four grown adults was a responsibility he’d silently accepted. You were halfway through chewing when another piece of meat landed on your plate. You glanced over at Yunho who was already reaching for another. “You don’t have to feed me.”
“I know.”
“Then eat your own food.”
“I am.”
He placed another piece onto your plate and blinked innocently as you picked it up and ate it. That earned you a pleased smile. Fine. That version of Yunho you could handle. Your boyfriend had always been affectionate. He liked taking care of you in quiet ways, carrying your things, making sure you’d eaten during long schedules, ordering something for you because he knew you’d forget. None of that was unusual. What was unusual was the way he kept watching you. Every time you looked up, his eyes were already there. Every time you spoke to someone else, you could feel his attention drifting back. And every single time your patience sharpened with him, something behind those eyes seemed to wake up.
You were beginning to notice a pattern. You just hadn’t connected it yet. But Mingi apparently had. Because twenty minutes into dinner, Yunho reached across you without warning and stole the last piece of meat from your plate. You froze as his chopsticks disappeared back toward his side. Mingi stopped chewing. San’s eyebrows lifted. And Seonghwa glanced between you both as you stared at Yunho while he calmly chewed the piece of meat he’d just stolen from you. “Did you seriously just take that?”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“You have an entire plate.”
“I wanted yours.”
“It was the same fucking meat.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you take mine?”
Yunho reached for his drink but you caught his wrist and he stopped as your fingers tightened slightly around him as you leaned closer, lowering your voice because there were other people around and you weren’t interested in broadcasting your domestic problems across the restaurant. “What is your problem today?” His eyes dropped to your hand around his wrist. Then lifted and your irritation faltered. Because there it was again. Except this time you were close enough to see it properly. His pupils had widened. Just barely. His jaw tightened. And for perhaps the first time all day, Yunho didn’t immediately have something smart to say. “Yunho.”
His gaze flicked toward your mouth and he smiled as your grip loosened. “You’re doing this on purpose.” Next to you, Mingi suddenly became extremely interested in his food as Yunho leaned back in his chair. “Doing what?” You stared at him as he picked up his drink. “Being a brat.” The straw stopped halfway to his mouth. San coughed. Mingi looked down so quickly his chin nearly hit his chest. Seonghwa’s eyes closed briefly. And Yunho bit the inside of his cheek. Then that fucking smirk appeared. You leaned closer. “Why do you keep smiling when I say that?” His smirk vanished. Got him. Yunho looked away. “I’m not.”
“You literally just did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“You’re imagining things.”
You stared at the side of his face, tips of his ears turning pink and your eyes widened slightly. No fucking way. Before you could say anything, Mingi suddenly shoved a piece of meat into his mouth and made the fatal mistake of laughing around it. Yunho’s head snapped toward him. “What’s funny?” Mingi shook his head vigorously. “Don’t involve me in whatever weird shit you two have going on.” Your head turned between them as Yunho glared and Mingi grinned.
San looked thoroughly entertained now, while Seonghwa had adopted the distant expression of a man reconsidering every choice that had led him to this dinner. You slowly leaned back in your chair as Yunho looked at you again and now you were the one who smiled, reached for your drink and took a slow sip, keeping your eyes on him over the straw. “So you’re coming home with me tonight?”
His gaze sharpened immediately.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Your smile grew as Yunho stared at you then swallowed.
“Okay.” You turned back toward your food as though nothing had happened while Yunho remained suspiciously quiet. Mingi looked from you to him before breaking into the biggest grin you’d seen all day. Because Yunho might not have realized it yet but somewhere between stealing your coffee and stealing food directly off your plate, the experiment had begun producing results in the opposite direction.
You were starting to figure him out.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By the time the last plate had been cleared away, none of you were quite ready to leave. The restaurant had emptied considerably while you’d eaten, the dinner rush thinning into a quieter late night crowd. Near the entrance was a small bar tucked beneath warm amber lights, barely more than a polished counter with eight stools and shelves of liquor climbing the wall behind it. San noticed it first. “One drink.” Seonghwa looked at him. “That’s never one drink.”
“It can be.”
Ten minutes later, all five of you were gathered around the end of the bar. You’d taken one of the stools, Mingi beside you, while San stood with one elbow resting against the counter. Seonghwa and Yunho had somehow ended up closest to where the bartender was working, which had become increasingly entertaining over the last several minutes for one very obvious reason. She was flirting. Shamelessly. You noticed immediately and so did Mingi. The bartender was pretty, probably somewhere around your age, with dark hair pulled into a high ponytail and the sort of confidence that made subtlety entirely optional. She’d started with Seonghwa when he ordered, complimenting his hair before asking if he’d ever modeled.
Seonghwa had smiled politely. “Yes.”
She laughed like he’d made a joke and glanced at Mingi, neither of you said anything. Then she got to Yunho. “And you?” Yunho leaned one forearm against the counter. “What about me?”
“You model too?”
“Not really.”
Her eyes moved over him without even pretending otherwise making you take another shot of soju. Mingi’s mouth twitched beside you.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
“I was going to ask if soju was good.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“No,” he admitted as the bartender laughed at something Yunho said and you gritted your teeth. You weren’t particularly possessive. At least, that’s what you liked telling yourself. That was Yunho. The truth was slightly less flattering. You trusted Yunho completely. You didn’t care when fans flirted with him, didn’t care about fan service, didn’t care when stylists or photographers commented on how handsome he was. His job practically required millions of people to be attracted to him. You’d have driven yourself insane years ago if that bothered you.
But somebody standing three feet away from you blatantly flirting with your boyfriend? That scratched at something. And Yunho knew it too. Because Yunho got jealous exactly the same way. He wasn’t controlling about it. Never made ridiculous demands or acted like you couldn’t speak to another man without his permission. He just got clingy. Suddenly there’d be a hand at your waist. An arm around your shoulders. A casual “baby” dropped into conversation approximately four times more than necessary. You’d teased him mercilessly about it. Which meant Yunho knew precisely what the slight tightening of your mouth meant when the bartender leaned closer. And you knew he knew because his eyes found yours and he fought a grin. Your eyes narrowed. Don’t. You didn’t have to say it. He knew.
And perhaps if your boyfriend hadn’t spent the entire day systematically excavating every last ounce of your patience, he would’ve listened. Instead, something wicked sparked behind his eyes. He turned back toward the bartender and your jaw tightened as the bartender set his drink down. “This one’s on me.”
Yunho looked at the glass. “Really?”
“Mhm.”
“Should’ve come here sooner.”
Your eyebrows shot up and Mingi went completely silent beside you. Oh. So that’s how he wanted to play. The bartender smiled. “You should come back.” Yunho picked up his glass. Then, because apparently he had finally decided that simple irritation wasn’t producing results quickly enough, he smiled at her. Not his huge goofy smile. That charming little one.The one he knew worked. The one he only used on you and gave to fans like customer service. “I might.”
Your tongue pressed into your cheek as San suddenly became fascinated by the liquor bottles behind the bar. Seonghwa looked at Yunho. Then at you. Then back at Yunho with an expression that clearly communicated that whatever happened next was entirely his own fault. The bartender moved away to help someone at the opposite end and Yunho turned around, took one look at your face and smiled.
That did it.
You slid off the stool as Mingi whispered, “There she goes.” Yunho barely had time to set down his glass before you reached him, fingers closing around his wrist hard. Not enough to genuinely hurt him, but your nails pressed sharply into his skin as you pulled his arm down and leaned closer. Yunho sucked in a breath and a small moan escaped him. He could feel his dick twitch as you froze. Your grip remained exactly where it was as iOS eyes dropped to your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Then slowly lifted to yours and suddenly you weren’t thinking about the bartender anymore. Because you knew that expression.
You’d seen enough versions of desire cross your boyfriend’s face to recognize it when it appeared, even when he was trying desperately to hide it. And Yunho was doing a terrible job. Your irritation faltered as his lips had parted slightly. His gaze was heavier. His wrist hadn’t pulled away from you. If anything, he’d gone unnaturally still beneath your hand. You loosened your fingers a fraction and something that looked suspiciously like disappointment flickered across his face.
Your eyes narrowed. No. Surely not. “Yunho?” His gaze snapped back to yours. “What?” Your voice dropped. “You’ve been acting like a brat all fucking day.” There. His jaw tightened as you felt the tiniest shift beneath your fingers. Your heart gave one heavy beat as you stared up at him and tightened your grip experimentally. Just slightly enough to hurt a little….. his breath caught. Not from pain. Your lips parted. Oh. Oh, you had him.
Suddenly the entire day replayed itself in your head with startling clarity. Yunho stealing Wooyoung’s chair. The gum. The bubble popping. Touching your things after you’d told him not to. Refusing to sit still. Finishing your coffee while looking directly at you. That fucking smirk when you’d called him an ass. Stealing food off your plate. Following every irritated warning with another tiny act designed specifically to push you farther. And the other night…. you’d almost forgotten. You’d been tired. Yunho had been clingy, following you around your apartment while you tried to finish getting things ready for the next morning. He’d kept distracting you until you’d finally turned around and snapped at him. Sit down. Behave. He’d gone strangely quiet afterward and you hadn’t thought anything of it.
Until now.
Your gaze moved slowly over his face. “You like this.” Yunho swallowed, not answering. He didn’t need to. Your eyebrows lifted and you fought back a flabbergasted grin. “No fucking way.” His cheeks were beginning to color along with the tips of his ears. Behind you came a suspicious choking noise that sounded remarkably like Mingi trying not to laugh, but neither of you looked away as stepped closer. Yunho’s eyes dropped briefly toward your mouth. “You’ve been doing all of this on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There wasn’t a shred of conviction behind it. He was a terrible liar. You almost laughed as you stared at him in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You flirted with her right in front of me.”
His eyes flickered. There was the guilt. Tiny, but present. “I wasn’t actually flirting.”
“You told her you’d come back.”
“I was trying to rile you.”
“I know that now.”
His mouth closed as looked down at your hand still wrapped around his wrist before slowly pressing your nails into him again making Yunho’s eyes close for half a second and your stomach flipped. When he looked at you again, there wasn’t much bratty amusement left in his expression and you finally understood. It wasn’t simply making you angry. It was getting a reaction from you. The sharper tone. The warnings. Being told to behave. Being called out when he deliberately refused. Apparently even the little bite of your nails against his skin.
Your gaze returned to his face. “You like being a brat.” Yunho’s adams apple bobbed. “Maybe.” You nearly laughed. “Maybe?” He was trying to recover now, that infuriating little smile creeping back onto his face. “Maybe I like when you get mad.”
“That explains today.”
“You’re hot when you’re mad.”
Your grip tightened and his smile faltered. “Careful.” The word came quieter than anything you’d said to him all day making Yunho go still as you leaned closer, just enough that your next words stayed between the two of you. “You’ve spent all day trying to find out what happens when you push me too far.” His eyes stayed locked on yours as you released his wrist. Four faint crescent marks from your nails remained against his skin. Yunho glanced down at them then back at you. And the idiot smiled. You shook your head, finally understanding exactly what kind of problem you’d unknowingly created three nights ago.
“Brat.”
His smile disappeared again and you caught it. This time there was absolutely no mistaking it. Your own smile slowly appeared. “Oh, you’re in trouble.” For the first time all day, Yunho didn’t have a smart answer. Behind you, Mingi quietly took San by the shoulder and nodded at Seonghwa. “We should go.”
San blinked. “Why?”
“Trust me.”
Seonghwa was already reaching for his coat.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The ride back to your apartment was suspiciously quiet. Yunho sat beside you in the back of the car with one hand resting on his thigh, occasionally glancing in your direction like he was waiting for something. You caught him twice. Both times, you simply looked away again. Apparently that was worse than yelling at him. By the second time, his knee had started bouncing and you nearly smiled. Because now that you’d figured him out, the entire day had become painfully obvious. Your boyfriend had discovered something about himself a few nights ago, told you absolutely nothing about it, then spent an entire workday poking you with increasingly larger metaphorical sticks to see what happened. Fine. He wanted to see what happened? He could.
The second your apartment door closed behind you, Yunho dropped your bag beside the entryway and turned toward you but you ignored him as you kicked off your shoes, shrugged out of your jacket and hung it near the door. Yunho remained exactly where he was Watching. You could practically feel the anticipation coming off him. Still, you said nothing as you walked into the kitchen and a few seconds later, footsteps followed. Of course they did. You opened the refrigerator and reached inside for a bottle of water and when you straightened, Yunho was leaning against the opposite side of the island, arms loosely folded over his chest.
You twisted the cap open and his eyes followed your fingers as you took a drink. Then they moved to your mouth. You lowered the bottle. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring at me?”
“Can’t look at my girlfriend?”
“You’ve been looking at me all day.”
“I like looking at you.” There was the sweet Yunho answer. Normally it would’ve worked. Tonight, you simply took another sip and his mouth flattened slightly. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. This was almost too easy now. You set the bottle on the counter and leaned back against it, studying him making Yunho shift beneath your attention. “So.” His eyebrows lifted. “So?”
“You learned something the other night.”
His expression immediately changed. Not much, but enough. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as you continued to stare at him as his gaze dropped when your hand settled against your thigh. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.” He grinned. There he was. Apparently even after being caught, he couldn’t help himself. You slowly dragged your hand upward along your thigh and Yunho’s smile faded. His attention followed the movement before snapping back to your face as you tilted your head. “I should make you go without…”
His lips parted as you let the implication hang there, your fingers still resting high on your thigh and Yunho pushed himself away from the island. “You’re not serious…...”
You almost laughed at the panic in his eyes. Like the thought of no sex with you was catastrophic for him. You held up one finger and he shut up instantly. Well. That was new. Yunho stared at you from the opposite side of the kitchen, and you could practically see the internal battle happening behind his eyes as you took your time looking him over. “Why not?”
“Because.”
“Excellent argument.”
“Baby.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You spent the entire day trying to piss me off.”
“I wasn’t trying to piss you off.”
You gave him a look and Yunho sighed. “Okay. I was.”
“And then,” you glared at him, “you decided to flirt with another woman because apparently everything else wasn’t getting you the reaction you wanted.” The playfulness finally slipped from his expression. “That one was stupid.”
“Yes.”
“I knew you knew I wasn’t serious.”
“I did.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“That doesn’t make it less stupid.”
Yunho looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting, “I wanted you jealous.”
“I know.”
“I wanted you to grab me again.”
That caught you. Your eyes dropped to his wrist. The faint little crescents from your nails were still visible. When you looked back up, Yunho was watching you. No smirk this time. No teasing. Just honesty that made warmth curl through your stomach. “You liked that.” His gaze flickered toward his wrist. “Yeah.”
“And you liked me calling you a brat.”
His tongue pressed briefly against his cheek. “Yeah.” You smiled slowly. “And when I snapped at you the other night?”
“That too.”
“So instead of telling your girlfriend any of this like a functioning adult…… you decided to spend an entire day annoying the shit out of me.”
“When you say it like that…”
“How else would I say it?”
“I was experimenting.”
You stared at him and Yunho’s mouth finally broke into a grin making you laugh despite yourself. “Experimenting?”
“I didn’t know if it was just that night.”
“So you needed peer reviewed research?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot.”
“Unfortunately.”
He started toward you but you lifted your finger again and Yunho stopped. “See?” you murmured. “Now you’re suddenly very good at listening.” His eyes darkened slightly watching as you let your hand fall back against your thigh. “You wanted me annoyed.” He swallowed. “You wanted me telling you what to do.” His gaze stayed fixed on you. “You wanted to be a brat until I finally did something about it.” Yunho nodded as you picked up your water again and took another leisurely sip. “So maybe I shouldn’t give you what you want.” His eyebrows pulled together and you shrugged. “Actions have consequences.”
“Y/N.” The warning in his voice only made your smile return.
“What?”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s my line.”
“Not anymore.”
Yunho took one careful step forward and you didn’t stop him this time. By the time he reached the other side of the island, you could see the beginnings of that familiar confidence returning. So you tilted your head and murmured, “Keep pushing your luck, brat.” He stopped dead in his tracks. There it was again. That tiny catch in his breathing. The immediate tension in his jaw. The way his eyes sharpened on yours. You’d wondered at the restaurant if you’d imagined how strongly the word affected him. But you hadn’t. Your smile turned knowing. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I thought so.”
And suddenly Yunho looked considerably less pleased with the little game he’d started that morning. Because he’d spent all day discovering exactly which buttons of yours he could press. But he’d apparently forgotten that once you knew where his were, you could press them right back. Yunho lasted approximately five more seconds before apparently deciding he’d had enough. You saw the intention immediately. The slight drop of his gaze to your mouth. The way his shoulders shifted. One long stride that would’ve brought him directly against you if you hadn’t planted your hand against his chest and shoved.
Yunho stumbled back half a step. Not because you’d pushed particularly hard. But because he hadn’t expected it. His eyes widened as you kept your hand against his chest for another second before letting it fall. “Beg for it.”
Yunho stared at you. Then an incredulous laugh escaped him. “What?” You didn’t smile and that seemed to be what finally made him realize you were serious. You nodded once toward the floor between you.
“Get on your knees and beg for what you want.”
His mouth actually fell open and perhaps for the first time since you’d met Jeong Yunho, you’d rendered him completely fucking speechless. You almost wanted to take a picture.
“Y/N.”
“What?”
He laughed again, quieter this time, staring at you like he was trying to determine when exactly his evening had escaped his control. “You’re serious?”
“You wanted me to do something about your behavior.”
“I…” He stopped as you raised an eyebrow and Yunho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Baby….”
You reached for your water again. “That’s not begging.” His lips pressed together as you took a drink and the kitchen went quiet. You could practically hear him thinking. There was still a trace of disbelief on his face, but underneath it was something else. The same thing you’d been catching glimpses of all day whenever your voice sharpened or you called him a brat. Except there was nowhere for him to hide it now. Your attention dropped deliberately to his feet before returning to his face. “Well?”
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “You really want me on my knees?”
“You’re still talking an awful lot for someone who wanted me pissed off.”
He clenched jaw as you set your water aside. “Or was all that attitude only fun when you thought you were the one controlling how far it went?” Yunho stared at you then laughed once beneath his breath, shaking his head. “You figured me out and got mean.”
“No.” You tilted your head. “You figured out you like me mean.”
That wiped the smile straight off his face.
You almost laughed.
“Thought so.”
“Y/N.”
“Yunho.”
His eyes dropped and your boyfriend suddenly looked almost shy. It was absurdly attractive. He rubbed his thumb over the faint marks you’d left around his wrist at the restaurant, seemingly considering his options. Then he looked at you again and slowly, Yunho lowered himself. One knee touched the floor. Then the other and your breath caught despite yourself. Because joking about it was one thing. Seeing him actually do it was something else entirely.
Yunho settled back onto his heels, looking up at you from the kitchen floor with his hands resting loosely against his thighs. His hair had fallen slightly over his forehead during the long day, tie no longer sitting perfectly straight, the top of his white shirt undone sometime during dinner. And somehow the brat still managed to look smug. You folded your arms. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re staring.”
Your eyes narrowed and his smile widened. “Do you want to get back up?” His smile disappeared and you bit the inside of your cheek. Oh, this was dangerous information.
“No.”
“No what?”
His eyebrows lifted as you waited and Yunho exhaled through his nose. “No, I don’t want to get back up.”
“Then behave.”
His eyes fluttered shut for half a second and when they opened again, you were smiling. “God, you really do like that.” His hand started lifting toward your leg but you caught his wrist before he could touch you. “No.” His gaze dropped to your fingers as you squeezed his wrist just enough to remind him. His eyes snapped back to yours and your pulse jumped, but you kept your expression composed as you released him. “You’ve been trying to get this out of me all day,” you said quietly. “So now you can ask properly.” Yunho looked up at you. “Tell me what you want.” He swallowed then that tiny smile returned. “Everything.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Not good enough.”
His laugh came out softer this time, almost disbelieving until the last trace of teasing disappeared from his expression. “Please.”
You stepped closer until Yunho had to tip his head farther back to keep looking at you. “Please what?” And judging by the look he gave you, your boyfriend was finally beginning to understand that spending an entire day teaching you exactly what he liked might have been the most catastrophically successful decision he’d ever made as the air in the kitchen became thick, charged with a tension that had been building since the moment Yunho had stolen l your styling chair that morning.
He was waiting for the verdict, waiting for the moment you finally broke and gave him exactly what he’d been manipulating you to provide all day. You looked down at him, your voice dropping to a low, commanding hum. “Say exactly what you want.” Yunho didn’t hesitate. The facade of the innocent boyfriend shattered instantly as he lunged forward, his large hands gripping your thighs with a sudden, bruising intensity that made you gasp. He pressed his face against the fabric of your jeans, his voice muffled and pleading, stripped of all his earlier bratty smugness. “Let me eat your pussy,” he rasped, the request sounding more like a prayer. “Please, baby. I’ve been thinking about it all day. Please let me.”
You felt a surge of heat coil in your gut. The power shift was intoxicating. You didn't move, you didn't help him. Instead, you leaned back against the counter, crossing your arms and letting a small, teasing smile play on your lips as you made him wait, counting the seconds as his breathing became erratic, his grip on your thighs tightening until his knuckles were white. You pretended to consider it, prolonging the agony of his anticipation until he let out a low, frustrated whine. “Fine,” you whispered. “Go ahead.”
Yunho moved with a feral speed. He didn't just undo your pants, he practically tore at the button and zipper, his movements hurried and frantic. He yanked your jeans down your legs with a rough tug, and you stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but your underwear. As he leaned in to shove your panties aside, your hand shot out, fingers curling firmly around his chin. You gripped him tight, forcing him to stop and look up at you. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze locked on yours with a hunger that was almost frightening. “Take your time,” you commanded and the frustration in his eyes flared, but he obeyed. He shifted his focus to your thighs, pressing slow, wet kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner legs. He dragged his tongue upward in long, languid strokes, tasting the salt of your sweat, moving higher and higher but never quite reaching the center.
“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice dripping with a calculated sweetness and the praise hit him like a physical blow. His dick twitch violently against the fabric of his trousers, a hard, aching weight that was clearly reaching its limit. He let out a shaky breath, his tongue continuing to swirl against the softest parts of your thighs, his movements becoming more desperate as he neared the edge of your lace panties. He paused there, looking up at you one last time, asking for silent permission to remove them. But as he reached for the waistband to drag them down, a sudden impulse took over. He didn't slide them off. With one sharp, aggressive yank, he ripped the fabric. The sound of the lace tearing echoed in the quiet kitchen making you gasp, staring down at the shredded remnants of your underwear. “You fucking brat! That was one of my favorite pairs!”
The word brat triggered something in him again. Yunho let out a guttural moan, the sound vibrating against your skin as he finally dove in. He didn't waste another second. His tongue flicked expertly against your clit, a sharp, precise pressure that made your hips jerk forward. Then he thrust his tongue deep into your pussy, mimicking the motion of his dick with a rhythmic, demanding intensity. You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulled hard. You wanted him to feel the weight of your control.
When he moaned against you, a sound of pure submission and pleasure, you pulled harder, tilting his head back just enough to make him gasp. “You’re such a pathetic brat,” you whispered, alternating between praise and degradation. “Look at you. Begging for it. Just a little dog for me to play with.” Yunho whimpered into you, the sound muffled by your pussy, but his body responded with an electric intensity. He was eating you with a starving desperation, his tongue working tirelessly to drive you toward the edge. In the heat of the moment, his hand moved downward, fumbling with his own zipper to free his aching dick.
“No,” you snapped, yanking his hair. “You don’t get anything right now. You just get to give.” Another whimper escaped him, a sound of absolute defeat. He didn't fight you though. He simply surrendered, focusing every ounce of his energy on your pleasure. You used his face and tongue to fuck yourself, grinding your hips against him, your breath coming in jagged, broken sobs. The friction was overwhelming, the sensation of his tongue and the pressure of your own hand bringing you closer and closer to the brink.When the first wave of your orgasm hit, it was violent. You arched your back, your fingers clutching his scalp as you screamed into the empty kitchen, holding him there, forcing him to feel every single throb of your orgasm, pinning him to you until the last tremor subsided.
Breathing heavily, you finally snatched him up by the hair, pulling him to his feet with a strength born of adrenaline, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips, and gripping his hand as you led him toward the bedroom. You glanced sideways at him, noting the way he walked stiffly, his eyes glazed. “How hard are you?” you asked, your voice a low purr. “You’re aching, aren’t you?” Yunho glared at you, but there was no heat in it, only a desperate, burning need. You smirked and stopped in the middle of the room. “Take your clothes off.”
He obeyed instantly. There was no hesitation, no bratty pushback. He stripped with a frantic energy, his dick springing free, thick, pulsing, and leaking pre cum. It was twitching with a life of its own as you stepped closer, reaching out to stroke the length of him, your hand sliding against him, giving him a sharp, sudden squeeze making Yunho’s knees wobble and let out a strangled sound, his head falling back. “Now,” you murmured, leaning in close to his ear. “What do you want?”
“Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Y/N, please let me have your pussy. I can’t... I can’t take it anymore.” You pouted at him, lifting your hand and gently patting his cheek, small, mocking slaps that served as a reminder of who was in charge. “You will... eventually. But first... brats deserve to be punished.” You pointed toward the bed. “Get on the bed.” Before he could move, you added a final condition. “Actually... crawl.”
Yunho froze, his eyes wide with shock. He looked at you as if you’d just rewritten the laws of gravity. But the sight of your expression, knowing and dominant, was enough to break him. He lowered himself to the carpet and crawled onto the bed on all fours, his chest heaving, looking up at you from the mattress like a devotee before an altar. You took your time. You removed your shirt slowly, then reached back to drag your bra off, tossing it carelessly to the floor as Yunho stared at you like he was starving, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed skin. When you finally climbed onto the bed, you didn't immediately give in. You pulled him toward you by his hair, whispering, “Go on... I know you want them.”
He growled, a low sound of desperate need, and lunged forward. He latched his mouth onto your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth with a bruising intensity. For a moment, he had a sliver of control back, his tongue swirling around the peak as he tried to claim you. He moved to the other side, his breath hot against your skin, but before he could settle in, you shoved him back and crawled atop him, straddling his waist. You reached down and gripped his dick, but instead of sinking down, you began to tease him. You used the length of him to rub against your clit, gliding back and forth in a slow, torturous rhythm that drove him insane.
Yunho could only watch, his eyes wide and pleading, as you took your time edging him further and further into the red zone. When you felt his dick throb violently, the pre cum leaking in earnest, you abruptly stopped. “If you come now,” you whispered, “I’ll just finish myself.” The realization hit you in that moment….. you loved this. You loved the sight of this powerful man reduced to a shaking mess of obedience and submission. Finally, you let yourself sink down onto him, taking him all in one slow, crushing motion, your walls clenching around him with a desperate force as your hand moved up to wrap around his throat, squeezing just enough to make his breath hitch.
Yunho lost it completely, a loud, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he arched beneath you and you grinned and squeezed tighter as you started to move. “Your dick is so good,” you praised, your voice a dark contrast to the pleasure. Then, your expression shifted. “Remember that bartender? The one who thought she could have your attention?” You choked him a little harder, forcing him to gasp for air and start thrusting up violently, his hips snapping into yours with a raw power. “No one else gets you like this,” you whispered, leaning forward until your chests touched. “Every inch of you... is mine.” To seal the claim, you leaned down and bit his nipple hard and that was the breaking point. The bratty submissive boyfriend vanished.
Yunho growled and in one fluid move, he gripped your waist and flipped you over, pinning you to the mattress with a force that knocked the wind out of you. “Now who’s being a fucking brat?” he snapped, his voice returning to its usual commanding depth. He leaned over you, his eyes void of everything but lust and possession. “Don’t come or I’ll finish myself,” he mocked, echoing your words with a cruel smirk. “When we both know you can’t come without me.” He leaned back and smacked your ass, a loud, stinging crack that made you yelp. Then again. And again. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room as he teased your pussy with the head of his dick, rubbing it against the entrance but refusing to enter.
“Brats deserve to be punished,” he whispered into your ear. Then he moved. You cried out as he drove himself into your ass, stretching you open with a single, devastating thrust. Yunho groaned, a sound of pure pleasure as he bottomed out inside you. You were sprawled beneath him, fingers digging into the sheets as you gasped for air. He gave you a second to adjust before he reached up and yanked you up by your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your throat. He started to move slowly at first, holding you pinned against the bed as he hammered into you, you starting to moan, moans turning into pleas. “Fuck my ass!” you begged, your voice breaking. “Yunho, please!”
He lost all restraint. He held you by the throat and pounded into you relentlessly, the pace becoming frantic and feral. Your moans turned into sharp gasps and cries of pleasure and pain. As he continued to wreck you from behind, his other hand sliding forward, thrusting two fingers deep into your pussy. The double penetration was too much. You were being filled from both ends, your body shaking under the onslaught of him. Your hands flew back, nails digging into his ass. The pain only made him moan louder, pushing himself even deeper into you making start to squirt, the fluid soaking the sheets as you began to shake violently.
His fingers fucked you harder and harder, synchronizing with the brutal rhythm of his hips. You screamed, your vision blurring as you came in a massive, crashing wave of pleasure and Yunho followed right behind you after all the edging you did to him. He let out a loud moan as he came, his body stiffening, filling your ass completely before he collapsed onto you, his chest heaving, both of you drenched in sweat and shaking from the intensity of it all.
The room fell silent except for the sound of your synchronized breathing. The experiment was over, and as Yunho buried his face in the crook of your neck, it was clear that both of you had found exactly what you were looking for as you let him curl into your side like the little spoon he thought he was. Like he wasn’t over six feet. You ran your hand through his hair, combing at his scalp. “Brat.”
He grinned, tired, spent and completely satisfied. “Right back at you.”
By the time Wooyoung dropped into your chair, you had already been working for nearly three hours. The dressing room had settled into the particular kind of controlled chaos that always came before a schedule. Open makeup palettes covered half the counter, curling irons and straighteners heated beside rows of hair products, garment bags hung from nearly every available hook, and someone’s phone was playing music from the other side of the room beneath the constant overlapping conversations between members and staff. You had long since learned how to work through all of it without really hearing any of it.
Wooyoung, unfortunately, was considerably harder to tune out.
“You’re pulling my hair.”
“I’m brushing it.”
“Violently.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Will I?”
You met his eyes in the mirror. “Do you want to?” Wooyoung’s mouth snapped shut, although the grin spreading across it ruined whatever wounded expression he had attempted. “See, this is why I like you.”
“You like me because I tolerate you.”
“Exactly.”
A laugh escaped you as you ran your fingers through the front of his hair one last time, separating a few strands until they fell exactly where you wanted them. His makeup was already nearly finished, leaving you with little more than setting everything before sending him off to wardrobe. “Okay, don’t touch your face.” Wooyoung immediately lifted his hand and you slapped it away.
“I didn’t!”
“You were about to.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know exactly what that hand was about to do.”
He muttered something beneath his breath about workplace hostility while you leaned closer to check beneath his eyes, thumb lightly smoothing one tiny spot before you straightened again. “I just need the setting spray.” You turned toward the other end of the counter. It took maybe three seconds. Your fingers had barely closed around the bottle before you heard the scrape of the styling chair behind you, followed immediately by Wooyoung’s startled, “Yah!”
You turned back and stared at Wooyoung who was standing beside the chair looking personally betrayed by the universe. Yunho was sitting in it now. Your boyfriend had apparently walked over at some point without you noticing, grabbed Wooyoung beneath the arms, hauled him straight out of your chair and replaced him like this was an entirely reasonable thing for a grown man to do. For several seconds, you said nothing. And neither did Yunho. He simply looked at you. His dyed ash brown hair was still untouched, falling softly across his forehead and slightly into his eyes. He was already dressed for the first portion of their schedule in a crisp white shirt beneath a gray sweater vest, tie sitting neatly against his chest, silver jewelry catching the dressing room lights whenever he moved. Gum shifting lazily between his teeth as he settled farther into your chair.
You lowered the setting spray. “I’m not finished with him yet.” Yunho arched one eyebrow. That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just one eyebrow slowly rising while his jaw continued its lazy movement. Chew. Chew. POP. Your eyes narrowed as Wooyoung looked between you both. “Thank you. I was wondering if anybody cared that I was just forcibly evicted.” Yunho glanced at him. Then looked back at you. “I’m ready.”
“I can see that.”
His mouth twitched as pointed toward the chair he’d abandoned across the room. “Get up.” Yunho didn’t move. “Yunho.” Another slow chew of his gum made your eye twitch. Something about his expression immediately put you on alert. You knew that face. You’d been dating him long enough to recognize most versions of Jeong Yunho without needing him to say a word. You knew sleepy Yunho, hungry Yunho, irritated Yunho, clingy Yunho, horny Yunho, competitive Yunho and the particularly dangerous combination of bored and energetic Yunho. This was something else. There was far too much innocence on his face. And Yunho was never more suspicious than when he looked innocent.
“I have to get ready too,” he said.
“And you will. After Wooyoung.”
“But I’m already sitting here.”
Behind him, Wooyoung’s mouth fell open. “Because you picked me up!” Yunho ignored him. You stared at your boyfriend and he just stared back. Chewing. Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before returning to his eyes. “Get out of my chair.” For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face so quickly you nearly missed it. His jaw stopped but his eyes remained fixed on yours for half a beat longer than necessary before the gum shifted into his cheek and that maddeningly mild expression returned. “No.” Wooyoung made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “Oh, he’s lost his fucking mind.”
You couldn’t disagree. Yunho was playful. Yunho teased. Yunho occasionally seemed to wake up and decide his only purpose on earth was making you laugh until you couldn’t breathe. But this? You stepped closer and he watched every inch of your approach. “Move.” His eyes lifted to yours. “No.” There it was again. That tiny change. You couldn’t identify it, especially because Yunho ruined any chance you had of studying him by blowing a bubble directly in your face. Your expression flattened as the pale pink bubble expanded between his lips until it popped. Yunho sucked the gum back into his mouth and smiled and Wooyoung immediately turned away, shoulders shaking.
You looked at him. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re laughing.”
“Because this has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m just happy to be alive.”
You looked back down at Yunho who had the audacity to look pleased with himself. “Did you wake up irritating,” you asked, “or is this something you’ve been working toward all morning?” His smile widened. “You kissed me this morning.”
“I can make mistakes.”
That got a laugh from him, bright and immediate, his nose scrunching as he tipped his head back. For one dangerous second, affection threatened to dismantle your irritation completely. Then he reached out and hooked two fingers through the belt loop of your jeans. Your eyes dropped as his fingers remained there. “Yunho.”
“What?”
“Let go.”
“But you’re standing all the way over there.”
You stared at the approximately six inches separating you. “Tragic.”
“I missed you.”
“You saw me twenty minutes ago.”
“That was twenty minutes ago.”
Wooyoung made an exaggerated gagging noise. Without looking away from you, Yunho lifted his free hand and gave him the middle finger and you almost laughed. Instead, you caught Yunho’s wrist and removed his fingers from your jeans. His eyes followed the movement, then lifted back to your face. “Chair.”
“I’m in one.”
“The other one.”
“But you’re here.”
“And Wooyoung was here first.”
“He doesn’t need you anymore.”
“I am literally unfinished,” Wooyoung protested and Yunho twisted around to inspect him. “You look fine.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Go ask someone else to spray you.”
Wooyoung stared at the back of his head before looking at you. “Control your boyfriend.”
“I’m trying.”
Yunho turned around again, immediately correcting, “She loves me.” Your eyebrows rose. “Currently under review.” He grinned around his gum. And there was something about that grin that bothered you. Not because it was irritating. But because it looked victorious. Like somehow, despite being ordered out of your chair twice and threatened with the possible revocation of your affection, Yunho had gotten exactly what he’d wanted. You just couldn’t figure out what the hell that was. “Fine.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly as you stepped away. For the first time since stealing the chair, Yunho looked uncertain as you walked straight past him and toward Wooyoung. “Come here.” Wooyoung practically skipped toward you. “Oh, gladly.” You shook the setting spray, held it up and misted his face while Yunho remained sitting several feet away, waiting as you deliberately took your time. “Eyes closed.”
“They are.”
“Your left one’s twitching.”
“Your boyfriend assaulted me. I’m traumatized.”
“Wooyoung.”
“Sorry.”
You sprayed him once more before fanning his face with your hand. “There. Now you’re done.”
“Beautiful?”
“Debatable.”
He clutched his chest as behind him came a sharp little pop. You slowly looked past Wooyoung to Yunho sitting exactly where you’d left him. Chewing his gum. Watching you as another bubble began forming. You pointed the setting spray at him. “Don’t.” The bubble stopped growing. And for one second, neither of you moved. Then Yunho deliberately kept blowing. Your mouth fell open as the bubble grew until it covered half his mouth before bursting across his lips. Wooyoung whispered, “He’s doing it on purpose.”
“I know.”
What you didn’t know was why. Yunho peeled the gum from his bottom lip with his tongue, looking entirely too pleased with himself as you crossed the room toward him, him thinking about how three nights earlier, you’d snapped at him for the first time in months. Neither of you had mentioned what happened afterward. More specifically, Yunho hadn’t mentioned the startling little discovery he’d made when your patience finally broke, your voice sharpened, and you’d told your ridiculously clingy boyfriend to sit down and behave. He hadn’t expected the heat that had immediately crawled beneath his skin. Hadn’t expected two simple words in your irritated voice to follow him around for the next three days. And he certainly hadn’t told you that he’d thought about it an embarrassing number of times since. So this morning, he had apparently decided to conduct an experiment.
You stopped directly in front of him and he tipped his head back to look at you.
“Are you finished?”
“With my gum?”
“With being a brat.”
Something flashed behind his eyes. Yunho couldn’t quite suppress the tiny curve at the corner of his mouth at that word. Brat. “No.” You stared down at him as Yunho stared up at you. And somewhere behind you, Wooyoung whispered to himself, “He’s going to die today.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The first round of group photos should have given you a break from Yunho. Should have. Once everyone had been ushered onto set, there wasn’t much for you to do besides hover near the monitors with the rest of the styling team and watch for anything that needed fixing between shots. Hair out of place, shine under the lights, a collar sitting wrong, anything the camera would catch that nobody else would notice until somebody was staring at the pictures later. For the moment, everything looked good. You took advantage of the rare lull by leaning against the edge of one of the equipment tables and taking a long sip of your iced coffee. The drink was mostly melted ice by now, but you didn’t care. You’d bought it on the way in that morning, forgotten about it twice, rediscovered it once, and had been surviving on sporadic mouthfuls ever since.
Across the studio, ateez were arranged in front of the backdrop while the photographer called instructions.
“Yunho, little closer to Mingi.”
Yunho shifted.
“San, chin down slightly.”
The shutter clicked rapidly as you watched over the rim of your cup, your attention automatically drifting toward your boyfriend despite yourself. Annoying or not, the bastard photographed beautifully. His earlier sweater vest had survived your eventual styling session, his hair now properly arranged despite the fact that he’d made the process unnecessarily difficult. Under the studio lights, the softer brown strands framed his face exactly the way you’d intended, a few carefully placed pieces falling over his forehead. You’d threatened him twice while doing it and he’d looked delighted both times. Which was still bothering you. The group shifted positions for another set. Wooyoung moved in front of Yunho, San leaned against Seonghwa, and Hongjoong immediately started complaining when Mingi nearly stepped on his shoe and backed into Jongho.
“Don’t move,” the photographer called.
“I didn’t,” Mingi protested.
“You absolutely did,” Hongjoong muttered.
The shutter started again and you smiled into your straw. Eventually the photographer lowered the camera and checked the monitor. “Good. Let’s move into individuals.” The members immediately scattered. Hongjoong was called first while the others drifted toward the chairs lining the side of the studio. Staff descended briefly to make adjustments, and you set your coffee down long enough to fix one piece of Yeosang’s hair that had separated beneath the lights. Yunho went several people later. And, admittedly, you watched. Not obviously. You had standards. But every time you pretended to check something on the counter beside you, your eyes somehow wandered back toward the set. He was good at this. Infuriatingly good.
One moment he was smiling brightly at something the photographer said, all wide eyes and easy warmth, and the next his expression settled into something quieter as he angled his face toward the camera. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders relaxed. Jaw tilted just enough for the light to catch it. You took another sip of coffee as Wooyoung appeared beside you. “You’re staring.”
“I’m working.”
“At his face?”
“His hair.”
“Sure.”
You elbowed him without looking and he laughed and wandered away before you could retaliate properly.
“Good, Yunho. Last few.”
The shutter fired several more times. Yunho changed poses effortlessly before the photographer finally lowered the camera. “Got it.” Yunho bowed slightly. “Thank you.” Someone called Yeosang’s name next, and Yunho stepped away from the backdrop while staff moved into reset. You’d already stopped paying attention to him. Your focus had shifted toward Yeosang as he walked onto set, mentally checking his hair beneath the lights while you lifted your cup and took another drink. Someone beside you asked a question about the products you’d used earlier, and you turned your head to answer, gesturing toward your styling case. Which was why you didn’t see Yunho coming. You only felt your fingers suddenly become lighter.
You looked down and your coffee was gone. “What the…” You turned. Yunho was already walking away from you with your cup in his hand. Your mouth fell open. “Yunho.” He stopped and turned, your straw between his lips and drank as you stared at him. He stared directly back at you while taking a long, obnoxiously leisurely sip. There wasn’t even much left. Which apparently Yunho realized at exactly the same time, because his cheeks hollowed slightly as he pulled harder through the straw. The horrible rattling sound of ice and the last remnants of coffee filled the space between you and your eyes widened. No he fucking didn’t.
Yunho pulled the straw from his mouth, looked down into the cup and gave it a little shake. Then he looked at you as you slowly pushed yourself away from the table. “Did you seriously just finish my coffee?” Yunho swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
He lifted the cup and peered inside as though evidence might spontaneously materialize. “There’s ice.”
“Yunho.”
“You can have that.”
You stared at him in disbelief as he held the cup toward you. You didn’t take it. Instead, you looked from the empty plastic cup to your boyfriend’s face, where that same suspiciously innocent expression from earlier had begun creeping back into place. And something in you finally snapped. “You’re being an ass.” Yunho went completely still. It was so immediate that you almost thought you’d genuinely hurt his feelings. The playful expression disappeared. His fingers stopped moving around the cup. Even his jaw seemed to lock for half a second and your irritation faltered. Because that wasn’t normally how you spoke to him.
You teased him constantly. Called him annoying when he was being annoying. Threatened bodily harm whenever he stole the blankets or put his freezing hands underneath your shirt in bed. Threatened to get yourself off without him if he didn’t finish his game quick enough. But Yunho was rarely actually an ass. That was part of why his behavior today was so strange. “Baby…” Then you saw it. His eyes changed. Not hurt. Not offended. Something warmer. Your mouth closed as Yunho’s gaze stayed on your face for one strangely heavy second. Then another. And slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted. Your eyebrows pulled together as he smirked. Actually fucking smirked.
Your concern evaporated instantly. “Oh, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know what.”
He tipped his head slightly, shoving another piece of gum into his mouth. The gum shifted between his teeth as you stared at his mouth before looking back into his eyes. “What is wrong with you today?”
“Nothing.”
“You threw Wooyoung out of my chair.”
“He was taking too long.”
“You kept touching everything on my station.”
“I was bored.”
“You wouldn’t sit still.”
“I had energy.”
“And now you stole my coffee.”
Yunho glanced down at the empty cup. “You weren’t drinking it.”
“I was literally holding it.”
His lips twitched and your eyes narrowed. There it was again. That barely contained satisfaction. It made absolutely no sense. “You are seriously getting on my nerves.” Yunho’s tongue pressed briefly into his cheek as his gaze dipped to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. And something about the movement made your stomach tighten. “Am I?”
Your head pulled back slightly. What the fuck was that? Before you could examine the question too closely, someone called your name from across the studio. “Y/N! Touch up!” You looked toward the set. Yeosang was waiting while one of the photographers pointed toward his hair. “Coming!” You turned back toward Yunho and snatched the empty cup from his hand and his smile widened.
“You owe me another coffee.”
“I’ll buy you one.”
“You’re buying me two.”
“Okay.”
“And stop being annoying.”
“Okay.”
You stared at him suspiciously as Yunho smiled sweetly. Far too sweetly. “Go work, baby.” Your eyes narrowed further before you turned away. You made it three steps…… POP. You stopped. Behind you, there was silence. You slowly turned your head…. Yunho stood exactly where you’d left him, arms folded comfortably over his chest, chewing his gum and looking somewhere off toward the set as though he had absolutely no idea why you’d stopped. You stared at him and his eyes slid toward yours. And there it was. That tiny fucking smirk.
You pointed at him. “Keep it up.” For one fraction of a second, Yunho’s entire expression changed again. His smile disappeared. His eyes sharpened. Then you turned and headed toward Yeosang before you could catch him slowly bite down on his gum and let out a groan at his dick twitching.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Dinner had been Mingi’s idea. By the time the shoot finally wrapped, everyone was exhausted, hungry, and operating on the collective agreement that if food didn’t happen soon, somebody was going to become unpleasant. San had found a restaurant less than fifteen minutes from the studio, Seonghwa had approved it after inspecting the menu, and somehow what started as the four of them grabbing dinner had turned into you being dragged along before you’d even finished packing your styling kit. Not that you minded. What you did mind was your boyfriend apparently making decisions about your evening without consulting you. “I’m going home with you.” You stopped halfway through zipping your jacket. Yunho was standing beside you, completely casual, phone in one hand while the other shoved itself into his coat pocket.
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
You stared at him. “Interesting.”
His eyes lifted from his phone. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just nice finding out where you’re sleeping tonight at the same time you apparently did.”
“I already knew.”
“Of course you did.”
Mingi snorted from somewhere behind him but Yunho ignored him and stepped closer, reaching down to take your styling bag before you could pick it up. You immediately caught the handle. I can carry it.”
“I know.”
“Then give it to me.”
“No.”
Your eyes narrowed and Yunho just smiled. For fuck’s sake. You released the bag because fighting a man built like a refrigerator over twenty pounds of hair products wasn’t how you wanted to end your workday. “Yeosang knows you’re abandoning him?”
“I’m not abandoning him.”
“You live together.”
“He’ll survive one night.”
From near the door, San glanced over. “You stayed at her place two nights ago.”
“See?” Yunho said. “He’s keeping track.”
“That’s not what he meant,” Seonghwa replied and Yunho shrugged, slinging your bag over his shoulder. You watched him for another second. Something was deeply wrong with your boyfriend today. Not wrong wrong. Just…. weird. He’d been attached to you since the shoot ended. Not in the usual affectionate Yunho way either. He’d been hovering. Appearing beside you while you packed. Taking things out of your hands. Finding excuses to touch you whenever he passed. And somehow, despite spending the entire day deliberately irritating you, he’d decided he was coming home with you. Apparently without considering the possibility that you might leave him on the sidewalk. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s been pissing me off since this morning.”
His attention snapped back to you. There. Again. That tiny pause. You caught it this time and your eyes narrowed slightly. Yunho recovered almost immediately though, mouth curving into that lazy smile he’d been wearing far too often today. “You’d miss me.”
“Try me.”
Mingi made a quiet sound behind his fist making Yunho turn. “Do you have something to say?”
“Nope.”
“You keep laughing.”
“I’m having a good day.”
“Your day is about to get worse.”
Mingi’s grin widened. “See, Y/N? He’s being an ass.” Yunho’s head whipped toward him which only seemed to delight Mingi. Yunho’s expression changed for barely a second before he rolled his eyes and headed toward the door with your bag. You stared after him alongside Mingi. Then your boyfriend’s best friend looked at you. You furrowed your brows. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mingi.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re making a face.”
“What face?”
“That face.”
“I have one face.”
“You have several, unfortunately.”
He laughed and threw an arm around your shoulders as you followed everyone outside. “I’m just enjoying whatever the hell is wrong with your boyfriend today.”
“So am I,” San said.
“You’re all very supportive,” Yunho called from ahead and Seonghwa sighed. “Can we please eat before this becomes another argument?” It did not become another argument. Mostly because fifteen minutes later, you were seated in the corner of a small Korean barbecue restaurant with enough food arriving at the table to distract everyone from Yunho’s ongoing personality crisis. The restaurant was warm and crowded, filled with conversation and the constant hiss of meat hitting grills. Jackets had been tossed over the backs of chairs, sleeves pushed up, and after spending the entire day surrounded by cameras and staff, everyone seemed to visibly deflate the second food appeared.
You sat between Yunho and Mingi. A mistake, you realized. Not because of Mingi. But because Yunho had apparently interpreted being off the clock as permission to become even more attached to you. His thigh had been pressed against yours beneath the table since you sat down. You shifted once and he followed. You shifted again and so did he. The third time, you turned your head. Yunho was calmly watching San argue with Seonghwa over whether the meat needed another thirty seconds. You looked beneath the table. His knee was firmly against yours and you nudged it away. Three seconds later it returned.
“Yunho.”
“Hm?”
“Move your leg. I can barely move.”
He looked down as though discovering the existence of his own body for the first time. “Why?”
“Because you’re crowding me.”
“You don’t like being close to me?”
“Not when you’re doing it specifically because I told you to move.”
His mouth twitched and Mingi lowered his chopsticks. You caught the movement from the corner of your eye as Yunho finally shifted his leg away. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
You stared at him as he smiled and then turned back toward your food before you committed a felony in front of witnesses. For several minutes, everything remained peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful. Mingi and San started discussing something that had happened during the shoot. Seonghwa was busy cutting meat and periodically putting pieces onto everyone else’s plates because apparently feeding four grown adults was a responsibility he’d silently accepted. You were halfway through chewing when another piece of meat landed on your plate. You glanced over at Yunho who was already reaching for another. “You don’t have to feed me.”
“I know.”
“Then eat your own food.”
“I am.”
He placed another piece onto your plate and blinked innocently as you picked it up and ate it. That earned you a pleased smile. Fine. That version of Yunho you could handle. Your boyfriend had always been affectionate. He liked taking care of you in quiet ways, carrying your things, making sure you’d eaten during long schedules, ordering something for you because he knew you’d forget. None of that was unusual. What was unusual was the way he kept watching you. Every time you looked up, his eyes were already there. Every time you spoke to someone else, you could feel his attention drifting back. And every single time your patience sharpened with him, something behind those eyes seemed to wake up.
You were beginning to notice a pattern. You just hadn’t connected it yet. But Mingi apparently had. Because twenty minutes into dinner, Yunho reached across you without warning and stole the last piece of meat from your plate. You froze as his chopsticks disappeared back toward his side. Mingi stopped chewing. San’s eyebrows lifted. And Seonghwa glanced between you both as you stared at Yunho while he calmly chewed the piece of meat he’d just stolen from you. “Did you seriously just take that?”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“You have an entire plate.”
“I wanted yours.”
“It was the same fucking meat.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you take mine?”
Yunho reached for his drink but you caught his wrist and he stopped as your fingers tightened slightly around him as you leaned closer, lowering your voice because there were other people around and you weren’t interested in broadcasting your domestic problems across the restaurant. “What is your problem today?” His eyes dropped to your hand around his wrist. Then lifted and your irritation faltered. Because there it was again. Except this time you were close enough to see it properly. His pupils had widened. Just barely. His jaw tightened. And for perhaps the first time all day, Yunho didn’t immediately have something smart to say. “Yunho.”
His gaze flicked toward your mouth and he smiled as your grip loosened. “You’re doing this on purpose.” Next to you, Mingi suddenly became extremely interested in his food as Yunho leaned back in his chair. “Doing what?” You stared at him as he picked up his drink. “Being a brat.” The straw stopped halfway to his mouth. San coughed. Mingi looked down so quickly his chin nearly hit his chest. Seonghwa’s eyes closed briefly. And Yunho bit the inside of his cheek. Then that fucking smirk appeared. You leaned closer. “Why do you keep smiling when I say that?” His smirk vanished. Got him. Yunho looked away. “I’m not.”
“You literally just did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“You’re imagining things.”
You stared at the side of his face, tips of his ears turning pink and your eyes widened slightly. No fucking way. Before you could say anything, Mingi suddenly shoved a piece of meat into his mouth and made the fatal mistake of laughing around it. Yunho’s head snapped toward him. “What’s funny?” Mingi shook his head vigorously. “Don’t involve me in whatever weird shit you two have going on.” Your head turned between them as Yunho glared and Mingi grinned.
San looked thoroughly entertained now, while Seonghwa had adopted the distant expression of a man reconsidering every choice that had led him to this dinner. You slowly leaned back in your chair as Yunho looked at you again and now you were the one who smiled, reached for your drink and took a slow sip, keeping your eyes on him over the straw. “So you’re coming home with me tonight?”
His gaze sharpened immediately.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Your smile grew as Yunho stared at you then swallowed.
“Okay.” You turned back toward your food as though nothing had happened while Yunho remained suspiciously quiet. Mingi looked from you to him before breaking into the biggest grin you’d seen all day. Because Yunho might not have realized it yet but somewhere between stealing your coffee and stealing food directly off your plate, the experiment had begun producing results in the opposite direction.
You were starting to figure him out.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By the time the last plate had been cleared away, none of you were quite ready to leave. The restaurant had emptied considerably while you’d eaten, the dinner rush thinning into a quieter late night crowd. Near the entrance was a small bar tucked beneath warm amber lights, barely more than a polished counter with eight stools and shelves of liquor climbing the wall behind it. San noticed it first. “One drink.” Seonghwa looked at him. “That’s never one drink.”
“It can be.”
Ten minutes later, all five of you were gathered around the end of the bar. You’d taken one of the stools, Mingi beside you, while San stood with one elbow resting against the counter. Seonghwa and Yunho had somehow ended up closest to where the bartender was working, which had become increasingly entertaining over the last several minutes for one very obvious reason. She was flirting. Shamelessly. You noticed immediately and so did Mingi. The bartender was pretty, probably somewhere around your age, with dark hair pulled into a high ponytail and the sort of confidence that made subtlety entirely optional. She’d started with Seonghwa when he ordered, complimenting his hair before asking if he’d ever modeled.
Seonghwa had smiled politely. “Yes.”
She laughed like he’d made a joke and glanced at Mingi, neither of you said anything. Then she got to Yunho. “And you?” Yunho leaned one forearm against the counter. “What about me?”
“You model too?”
“Not really.”
Her eyes moved over him without even pretending otherwise making you take another shot of soju. Mingi’s mouth twitched beside you.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
“I was going to ask if soju was good.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“No,” he admitted as the bartender laughed at something Yunho said and you gritted your teeth. You weren’t particularly possessive. At least, that’s what you liked telling yourself. That was Yunho. The truth was slightly less flattering. You trusted Yunho completely. You didn’t care when fans flirted with him, didn’t care about fan service, didn’t care when stylists or photographers commented on how handsome he was. His job practically required millions of people to be attracted to him. You’d have driven yourself insane years ago if that bothered you.
But somebody standing three feet away from you blatantly flirting with your boyfriend? That scratched at something. And Yunho knew it too. Because Yunho got jealous exactly the same way. He wasn’t controlling about it. Never made ridiculous demands or acted like you couldn’t speak to another man without his permission. He just got clingy. Suddenly there’d be a hand at your waist. An arm around your shoulders. A casual “baby” dropped into conversation approximately four times more than necessary. You’d teased him mercilessly about it. Which meant Yunho knew precisely what the slight tightening of your mouth meant when the bartender leaned closer. And you knew he knew because his eyes found yours and he fought a grin. Your eyes narrowed. Don’t. You didn’t have to say it. He knew.
And perhaps if your boyfriend hadn’t spent the entire day systematically excavating every last ounce of your patience, he would’ve listened. Instead, something wicked sparked behind his eyes. He turned back toward the bartender and your jaw tightened as the bartender set his drink down. “This one’s on me.”
Yunho looked at the glass. “Really?”
“Mhm.”
“Should’ve come here sooner.”
Your eyebrows shot up and Mingi went completely silent beside you. Oh. So that’s how he wanted to play. The bartender smiled. “You should come back.” Yunho picked up his glass. Then, because apparently he had finally decided that simple irritation wasn’t producing results quickly enough, he smiled at her. Not his huge goofy smile. That charming little one.The one he knew worked. The one he only used on you and gave to fans like customer service. “I might.”
Your tongue pressed into your cheek as San suddenly became fascinated by the liquor bottles behind the bar. Seonghwa looked at Yunho. Then at you. Then back at Yunho with an expression that clearly communicated that whatever happened next was entirely his own fault. The bartender moved away to help someone at the opposite end and Yunho turned around, took one look at your face and smiled.
That did it.
You slid off the stool as Mingi whispered, “There she goes.” Yunho barely had time to set down his glass before you reached him, fingers closing around his wrist hard. Not enough to genuinely hurt him, but your nails pressed sharply into his skin as you pulled his arm down and leaned closer. Yunho sucked in a breath and a small moan escaped him. He could feel his dick twitch as you froze. Your grip remained exactly where it was as iOS eyes dropped to your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Then slowly lifted to yours and suddenly you weren’t thinking about the bartender anymore. Because you knew that expression.
You’d seen enough versions of desire cross your boyfriend’s face to recognize it when it appeared, even when he was trying desperately to hide it. And Yunho was doing a terrible job. Your irritation faltered as his lips had parted slightly. His gaze was heavier. His wrist hadn’t pulled away from you. If anything, he’d gone unnaturally still beneath your hand. You loosened your fingers a fraction and something that looked suspiciously like disappointment flickered across his face.
Your eyes narrowed. No. Surely not. “Yunho?” His gaze snapped back to yours. “What?” Your voice dropped. “You’ve been acting like a brat all fucking day.” There. His jaw tightened as you felt the tiniest shift beneath your fingers. Your heart gave one heavy beat as you stared up at him and tightened your grip experimentally. Just slightly enough to hurt a little….. his breath caught. Not from pain. Your lips parted. Oh. Oh, you had him.
Suddenly the entire day replayed itself in your head with startling clarity. Yunho stealing Wooyoung’s chair. The gum. The bubble popping. Touching your things after you’d told him not to. Refusing to sit still. Finishing your coffee while looking directly at you. That fucking smirk when you’d called him an ass. Stealing food off your plate. Following every irritated warning with another tiny act designed specifically to push you farther. And the other night…. you’d almost forgotten. You’d been tired. Yunho had been clingy, following you around your apartment while you tried to finish getting things ready for the next morning. He’d kept distracting you until you’d finally turned around and snapped at him. Sit down. Behave. He’d gone strangely quiet afterward and you hadn’t thought anything of it.
Until now.
Your gaze moved slowly over his face. “You like this.” Yunho swallowed, not answering. He didn’t need to. Your eyebrows lifted and you fought back a flabbergasted grin. “No fucking way.” His cheeks were beginning to color along with the tips of his ears. Behind you came a suspicious choking noise that sounded remarkably like Mingi trying not to laugh, but neither of you looked away as stepped closer. Yunho’s eyes dropped briefly toward your mouth. “You’ve been doing all of this on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There wasn’t a shred of conviction behind it. He was a terrible liar. You almost laughed as you stared at him in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You flirted with her right in front of me.”
His eyes flickered. There was the guilt. Tiny, but present. “I wasn’t actually flirting.”
“You told her you’d come back.”
“I was trying to rile you.”
“I know that now.”
His mouth closed as looked down at your hand still wrapped around his wrist before slowly pressing your nails into him again making Yunho’s eyes close for half a second and your stomach flipped. When he looked at you again, there wasn’t much bratty amusement left in his expression and you finally understood. It wasn’t simply making you angry. It was getting a reaction from you. The sharper tone. The warnings. Being told to behave. Being called out when he deliberately refused. Apparently even the little bite of your nails against his skin.
Your gaze returned to his face. “You like being a brat.” Yunho’s adams apple bobbed. “Maybe.” You nearly laughed. “Maybe?” He was trying to recover now, that infuriating little smile creeping back onto his face. “Maybe I like when you get mad.”
“That explains today.”
“You’re hot when you’re mad.”
Your grip tightened and his smile faltered. “Careful.” The word came quieter than anything you’d said to him all day making Yunho go still as you leaned closer, just enough that your next words stayed between the two of you. “You’ve spent all day trying to find out what happens when you push me too far.” His eyes stayed locked on yours as you released his wrist. Four faint crescent marks from your nails remained against his skin. Yunho glanced down at them then back at you. And the idiot smiled. You shook your head, finally understanding exactly what kind of problem you’d unknowingly created three nights ago.
“Brat.”
His smile disappeared again and you caught it. This time there was absolutely no mistaking it. Your own smile slowly appeared. “Oh, you’re in trouble.” For the first time all day, Yunho didn’t have a smart answer. Behind you, Mingi quietly took San by the shoulder and nodded at Seonghwa. “We should go.”
San blinked. “Why?”
“Trust me.”
Seonghwa was already reaching for his coat.
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The ride back to your apartment was suspiciously quiet. Yunho sat beside you in the back of the car with one hand resting on his thigh, occasionally glancing in your direction like he was waiting for something. You caught him twice. Both times, you simply looked away again. Apparently that was worse than yelling at him. By the second time, his knee had started bouncing and you nearly smiled. Because now that you’d figured him out, the entire day had become painfully obvious. Your boyfriend had discovered something about himself a few nights ago, told you absolutely nothing about it, then spent an entire workday poking you with increasingly larger metaphorical sticks to see what happened. Fine. He wanted to see what happened? He could.
The second your apartment door closed behind you, Yunho dropped your bag beside the entryway and turned toward you but you ignored him as you kicked off your shoes, shrugged out of your jacket and hung it near the door. Yunho remained exactly where he was Watching. You could practically feel the anticipation coming off him. Still, you said nothing as you walked into the kitchen and a few seconds later, footsteps followed. Of course they did. You opened the refrigerator and reached inside for a bottle of water and when you straightened, Yunho was leaning against the opposite side of the island, arms loosely folded over his chest.
You twisted the cap open and his eyes followed your fingers as you took a drink. Then they moved to your mouth. You lowered the bottle. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring at me?”
“Can’t look at my girlfriend?”
“You’ve been looking at me all day.”
“I like looking at you.” There was the sweet Yunho answer. Normally it would’ve worked. Tonight, you simply took another sip and his mouth flattened slightly. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. This was almost too easy now. You set the bottle on the counter and leaned back against it, studying him making Yunho shift beneath your attention. “So.” His eyebrows lifted. “So?”
“You learned something the other night.”
His expression immediately changed. Not much, but enough. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as you continued to stare at him as his gaze dropped when your hand settled against your thigh. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.” He grinned. There he was. Apparently even after being caught, he couldn’t help himself. You slowly dragged your hand upward along your thigh and Yunho’s smile faded. His attention followed the movement before snapping back to your face as you tilted your head. “I should make you go without…”
His lips parted as you let the implication hang there, your fingers still resting high on your thigh and Yunho pushed himself away from the island. “You’re not serious…...”
You almost laughed at the panic in his eyes. Like the thought of no sex with you was catastrophic for him. You held up one finger and he shut up instantly. Well. That was new. Yunho stared at you from the opposite side of the kitchen, and you could practically see the internal battle happening behind his eyes as you took your time looking him over. “Why not?”
“Because.”
“Excellent argument.”
“Baby.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You spent the entire day trying to piss me off.”
“I wasn’t trying to piss you off.”
You gave him a look and Yunho sighed. “Okay. I was.”
“And then,” you glared at him, “you decided to flirt with another woman because apparently everything else wasn’t getting you the reaction you wanted.” The playfulness finally slipped from his expression. “That one was stupid.”
“Yes.”
“I knew you knew I wasn’t serious.”
“I did.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“That doesn’t make it less stupid.”
Yunho looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting, “I wanted you jealous.”
“I know.”
“I wanted you to grab me again.”
That caught you. Your eyes dropped to his wrist. The faint little crescents from your nails were still visible. When you looked back up, Yunho was watching you. No smirk this time. No teasing. Just honesty that made warmth curl through your stomach. “You liked that.” His gaze flickered toward his wrist. “Yeah.”
“And you liked me calling you a brat.”
His tongue pressed briefly against his cheek. “Yeah.” You smiled slowly. “And when I snapped at you the other night?”
“That too.”
“So instead of telling your girlfriend any of this like a functioning adult…… you decided to spend an entire day annoying the shit out of me.”
“When you say it like that…”
“How else would I say it?”
“I was experimenting.”
You stared at him and Yunho’s mouth finally broke into a grin making you laugh despite yourself. “Experimenting?”
“I didn’t know if it was just that night.”
“So you needed peer reviewed research?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot.”
“Unfortunately.”
He started toward you but you lifted your finger again and Yunho stopped. “See?” you murmured. “Now you’re suddenly very good at listening.” His eyes darkened slightly watching as you let your hand fall back against your thigh. “You wanted me annoyed.” He swallowed. “You wanted me telling you what to do.” His gaze stayed fixed on you. “You wanted to be a brat until I finally did something about it.” Yunho nodded as you picked up your water again and took another leisurely sip. “So maybe I shouldn’t give you what you want.” His eyebrows pulled together and you shrugged. “Actions have consequences.”
“Y/N.” The warning in his voice only made your smile return.
“What?”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s my line.”
“Not anymore.”
Yunho took one careful step forward and you didn’t stop him this time. By the time he reached the other side of the island, you could see the beginnings of that familiar confidence returning. So you tilted your head and murmured, “Keep pushing your luck, brat.” He stopped dead in his tracks. There it was again. That tiny catch in his breathing. The immediate tension in his jaw. The way his eyes sharpened on yours. You’d wondered at the restaurant if you’d imagined how strongly the word affected him. But you hadn’t. Your smile turned knowing. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I thought so.”
And suddenly Yunho looked considerably less pleased with the little game he’d started that morning. Because he’d spent all day discovering exactly which buttons of yours he could press. But he’d apparently forgotten that once you knew where his were, you could press them right back. Yunho lasted approximately five more seconds before apparently deciding he’d had enough. You saw the intention immediately. The slight drop of his gaze to your mouth. The way his shoulders shifted. One long stride that would’ve brought him directly against you if you hadn’t planted your hand against his chest and shoved.
Yunho stumbled back half a step. Not because you’d pushed particularly hard. But because he hadn’t expected it. His eyes widened as you kept your hand against his chest for another second before letting it fall. “Beg for it.”
Yunho stared at you. Then an incredulous laugh escaped him. “What?” You didn’t smile and that seemed to be what finally made him realize you were serious. You nodded once toward the floor between you.
“Get on your knees and beg for what you want.”
His mouth actually fell open and perhaps for the first time since you’d met Jeong Yunho, you’d rendered him completely fucking speechless. You almost wanted to take a picture.
“Y/N.”
“What?”
He laughed again, quieter this time, staring at you like he was trying to determine when exactly his evening had escaped his control. “You’re serious?”
“You wanted me to do something about your behavior.”
“I…” He stopped as you raised an eyebrow and Yunho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Baby….”
You reached for your water again. “That’s not begging.” His lips pressed together as you took a drink and the kitchen went quiet. You could practically hear him thinking. There was still a trace of disbelief on his face, but underneath it was something else. The same thing you’d been catching glimpses of all day whenever your voice sharpened or you called him a brat. Except there was nowhere for him to hide it now. Your attention dropped deliberately to his feet before returning to his face. “Well?”
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “You really want me on my knees?”
“You’re still talking an awful lot for someone who wanted me pissed off.”
He clenched jaw as you set your water aside. “Or was all that attitude only fun when you thought you were the one controlling how far it went?” Yunho stared at you then laughed once beneath his breath, shaking his head. “You figured me out and got mean.”
“No.” You tilted your head. “You figured out you like me mean.”
That wiped the smile straight off his face.
You almost laughed.
“Thought so.”
“Y/N.”
“Yunho.”
His eyes dropped and your boyfriend suddenly looked almost shy. It was absurdly attractive. He rubbed his thumb over the faint marks you’d left around his wrist at the restaurant, seemingly considering his options. Then he looked at you again and slowly, Yunho lowered himself. One knee touched the floor. Then the other and your breath caught despite yourself. Because joking about it was one thing. Seeing him actually do it was something else entirely.
Yunho settled back onto his heels, looking up at you from the kitchen floor with his hands resting loosely against his thighs. His hair had fallen slightly over his forehead during the long day, tie no longer sitting perfectly straight, the top of his white shirt undone sometime during dinner. And somehow the brat still managed to look smug. You folded your arms. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re staring.”
Your eyes narrowed and his smile widened. “Do you want to get back up?” His smile disappeared and you bit the inside of your cheek. Oh, this was dangerous information.
“No.”
“No what?”
His eyebrows lifted as you waited and Yunho exhaled through his nose. “No, I don’t want to get back up.”
“Then behave.”
His eyes fluttered shut for half a second and when they opened again, you were smiling. “God, you really do like that.” His hand started lifting toward your leg but you caught his wrist before he could touch you. “No.” His gaze dropped to your fingers as you squeezed his wrist just enough to remind him. His eyes snapped back to yours and your pulse jumped, but you kept your expression composed as you released him. “You’ve been trying to get this out of me all day,” you said quietly. “So now you can ask properly.” Yunho looked up at you. “Tell me what you want.” He swallowed then that tiny smile returned. “Everything.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Not good enough.”
His laugh came out softer this time, almost disbelieving until the last trace of teasing disappeared from his expression. “Please.”
You stepped closer until Yunho had to tip his head farther back to keep looking at you. “Please what?” And judging by the look he gave you, your boyfriend was finally beginning to understand that spending an entire day teaching you exactly what he liked might have been the most catastrophically successful decision he’d ever made as the air in the kitchen became thick, charged with a tension that had been building since the moment Yunho had stolen l your styling chair that morning.
He was waiting for the verdict, waiting for the moment you finally broke and gave him exactly what he’d been manipulating you to provide all day. You looked down at him, your voice dropping to a low, commanding hum. “Say exactly what you want.” Yunho didn’t hesitate. The facade of the innocent boyfriend shattered instantly as he lunged forward, his large hands gripping your thighs with a sudden, bruising intensity that made you gasp. He pressed his face against the fabric of your jeans, his voice muffled and pleading, stripped of all his earlier bratty smugness. “Let me eat your pussy,” he rasped, the request sounding more like a prayer. “Please, baby. I’ve been thinking about it all day. Please let me.”
You felt a surge of heat coil in your gut. The power shift was intoxicating. You didn't move, you didn't help him. Instead, you leaned back against the counter, crossing your arms and letting a small, teasing smile play on your lips as you made him wait, counting the seconds as his breathing became erratic, his grip on your thighs tightening until his knuckles were white. You pretended to consider it, prolonging the agony of his anticipation until he let out a low, frustrated whine. “Fine,” you whispered. “Go ahead.”
Yunho moved with a feral speed. He didn't just undo your pants, he practically tore at the button and zipper, his movements hurried and frantic. He yanked your jeans down your legs with a rough tug, and you stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but your underwear. As he leaned in to shove your panties aside, your hand shot out, fingers curling firmly around his chin. You gripped him tight, forcing him to stop and look up at you. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze locked on yours with a hunger that was almost frightening. “Take your time,” you commanded and the frustration in his eyes flared, but he obeyed. He shifted his focus to your thighs, pressing slow, wet kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner legs. He dragged his tongue upward in long, languid strokes, tasting the salt of your sweat, moving higher and higher but never quite reaching the center.
“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice dripping with a calculated sweetness and the praise hit him like a physical blow. His dick twitch violently against the fabric of his trousers, a hard, aching weight that was clearly reaching its limit. He let out a shaky breath, his tongue continuing to swirl against the softest parts of your thighs, his movements becoming more desperate as he neared the edge of your lace panties. He paused there, looking up at you one last time, asking for silent permission to remove them. But as he reached for the waistband to drag them down, a sudden impulse took over. He didn't slide them off. With one sharp, aggressive yank, he ripped the fabric. The sound of the lace tearing echoed in the quiet kitchen making you gasp, staring down at the shredded remnants of your underwear. “You fucking brat! That was one of my favorite pairs!”
The word brat triggered something in him again. Yunho let out a guttural moan, the sound vibrating against your skin as he finally dove in. He didn't waste another second. His tongue flicked expertly against your clit, a sharp, precise pressure that made your hips jerk forward. Then he thrust his tongue deep into your pussy, mimicking the motion of his dick with a rhythmic, demanding intensity. You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulled hard. You wanted him to feel the weight of your control.
When he moaned against you, a sound of pure submission and pleasure, you pulled harder, tilting his head back just enough to make him gasp. “You’re such a pathetic brat,” you whispered, alternating between praise and degradation. “Look at you. Begging for it. Just a little dog for me to play with.” Yunho whimpered into you, the sound muffled by your pussy, but his body responded with an electric intensity. He was eating you with a starving desperation, his tongue working tirelessly to drive you toward the edge. In the heat of the moment, his hand moved downward, fumbling with his own zipper to free his aching dick.
“No,” you snapped, yanking his hair. “You don’t get anything right now. You just get to give.” Another whimper escaped him, a sound of absolute defeat. He didn't fight you though. He simply surrendered, focusing every ounce of his energy on your pleasure. You used his face and tongue to fuck yourself, grinding your hips against him, your breath coming in jagged, broken sobs. The friction was overwhelming, the sensation of his tongue and the pressure of your own hand bringing you closer and closer to the brink.When the first wave of your orgasm hit, it was violent. You arched your back, your fingers clutching his scalp as you screamed into the empty kitchen, holding him there, forcing him to feel every single throb of your orgasm, pinning him to you until the last tremor subsided.
Breathing heavily, you finally snatched him up by the hair, pulling him to his feet with a strength born of adrenaline, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips, and gripping his hand as you led him toward the bedroom. You glanced sideways at him, noting the way he walked stiffly, his eyes glazed. “How hard are you?” you asked, your voice a low purr. “You’re aching, aren’t you?” Yunho glared at you, but there was no heat in it, only a desperate, burning need. You smirked and stopped in the middle of the room. “Take your clothes off.”
He obeyed instantly. There was no hesitation, no bratty pushback. He stripped with a frantic energy, his dick springing free, thick, pulsing, and leaking pre cum. It was twitching with a life of its own as you stepped closer, reaching out to stroke the length of him, your hand sliding against him, giving him a sharp, sudden squeeze making Yunho’s knees wobble and let out a strangled sound, his head falling back. “Now,” you murmured, leaning in close to his ear. “What do you want?”
“Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Y/N, please let me have your pussy. I can’t... I can’t take it anymore.” You pouted at him, lifting your hand and gently patting his cheek, small, mocking slaps that served as a reminder of who was in charge. “You will... eventually. But first... brats deserve to be punished.” You pointed toward the bed. “Get on the bed.” Before he could move, you added a final condition. “Actually... crawl.”
Yunho froze, his eyes wide with shock. He looked at you as if you’d just rewritten the laws of gravity. But the sight of your expression, knowing and dominant, was enough to break him. He lowered himself to the carpet and crawled onto the bed on all fours, his chest heaving, looking up at you from the mattress like a devotee before an altar. You took your time. You removed your shirt slowly, then reached back to drag your bra off, tossing it carelessly to the floor as Yunho stared at you like he was starving, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed skin. When you finally climbed onto the bed, you didn't immediately give in. You pulled him toward you by his hair, whispering, “Go on... I know you want them.”
He growled, a low sound of desperate need, and lunged forward. He latched his mouth onto your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth with a bruising intensity. For a moment, he had a sliver of control back, his tongue swirling around the peak as he tried to claim you. He moved to the other side, his breath hot against your skin, but before he could settle in, you shoved him back and crawled atop him, straddling his waist. You reached down and gripped his dick, but instead of sinking down, you began to tease him. You used the length of him to rub against your clit, gliding back and forth in a slow, torturous rhythm that drove him insane.
Yunho could only watch, his eyes wide and pleading, as you took your time edging him further and further into the red zone. When you felt his dick throb violently, the pre cum leaking in earnest, you abruptly stopped. “If you come now,” you whispered, “I’ll just finish myself.” The realization hit you in that moment….. you loved this. You loved the sight of this powerful man reduced to a shaking mess of obedience and submission. Finally, you let yourself sink down onto him, taking him all in one slow, crushing motion, your walls clenching around him with a desperate force as your hand moved up to wrap around his throat, squeezing just enough to make his breath hitch.
Yunho lost it completely, a loud, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he arched beneath you and you grinned and squeezed tighter as you started to move. “Your dick is so good,” you praised, your voice a dark contrast to the pleasure. Then, your expression shifted. “Remember that bartender? The one who thought she could have your attention?” You choked him a little harder, forcing him to gasp for air and start thrusting up violently, his hips snapping into yours with a raw power. “No one else gets you like this,” you whispered, leaning forward until your chests touched. “Every inch of you... is mine.” To seal the claim, you leaned down and bit his nipple hard and that was the breaking point. The bratty submissive boyfriend vanished.
Yunho growled and in one fluid move, he gripped your waist and flipped you over, pinning you to the mattress with a force that knocked the wind out of you. “Now who’s being a fucking brat?” he snapped, his voice returning to its usual commanding depth. He leaned over you, his eyes void of everything but lust and possession. “Don’t come or I’ll finish myself,” he mocked, echoing your words with a cruel smirk. “When we both know you can’t come without me.” He leaned back and smacked your ass, a loud, stinging crack that made you yelp. Then again. And again. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room as he teased your pussy with the head of his dick, rubbing it against the entrance but refusing to enter.
“Brats deserve to be punished,” he whispered into your ear. Then he moved. You cried out as he drove himself into your ass, stretching you open with a single, devastating thrust. Yunho groaned, a sound of pure pleasure as he bottomed out inside you. You were sprawled beneath him, fingers digging into the sheets as you gasped for air. He gave you a second to adjust before he reached up and yanked you up by your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your throat. He started to move slowly at first, holding you pinned against the bed as he hammered into you, you starting to moan, moans turning into pleas. “Fuck my ass!” you begged, your voice breaking. “Yunho, please!”
He lost all restraint. He held you by the throat and pounded into you relentlessly, the pace becoming frantic and feral. Your moans turned into sharp gasps and cries of pleasure and pain. As he continued to wreck you from behind, his other hand sliding forward, thrusting two fingers deep into your pussy. The double penetration was too much. You were being filled from both ends, your body shaking under the onslaught of him. Your hands flew back, nails digging into his ass. The pain only made him moan louder, pushing himself even deeper into you making start to squirt, the fluid soaking the sheets as you began to shake violently.
His fingers fucked you harder and harder, synchronizing with the brutal rhythm of his hips. You screamed, your vision blurring as you came in a massive, crashing wave of pleasure and Yunho followed right behind you after all the edging you did to him. He let out a loud moan as he came, his body stiffening, filling your ass completely before he collapsed onto you, his chest heaving, both of you drenched in sweat and shaking from the intensity of it all.
The room fell silent except for the sound of your synchronized breathing. The experiment was over, and as Yunho buried his face in the crook of your neck, it was clear that both of you had found exactly what you were looking for as you let him curl into your side like the little spoon he thought he was. Like he wasn’t over six feet. You ran your hand through his hair, combing at his scalp. “Brat.”
He grinned, tired, spent and completely satisfied. “Right back at you.”
for mature audiences only, minors will be stockaded in the town square
⟢ a/n: the long awaited... | this is NOT in any way, shape, or form meant to depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities, please and thank you.
⟢ summary: the first collab is a huge success, and everyone's hungry for more. including san ;)
⟢ word count: 30.3k
⟢ warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | p->v, unprotected sex (don't do that), squirting, edging, dirty talk, cowgirl/riding, slight/brief bondage, slight yeosang x reader (mentioned), fingering, slight overstimulation, swearing
posted: 08.11.26
this is part two of 'afterdark'. read part one here.
Consider your fame doubled since the little film of you and San hit the internet. Already amassing four million views in the first forty-eight hours, your phone has been ringing off the hook. San’s last advice about finding an agent now is at the top of your priority list. You’re debating actually asking Hongjoong if he’d be interested in being your agent, knowing his workload is already mountainous. Adding to it wouldn’t exactly help his already packed schedule. Still, San seemed to encourage the idea.
The check hit your bank account the day after. $2,000 for one scene. You glanced at your laptop with an inquisitive look, comparing the amount to your last liveshow. Not bad, really. In your research – actual research into the porn industry – you knew that adult film actresses get paid somewhere around this number. That is, when they’re seasoned, popular superstars. San’s level of fame. They must’ve given you higher pay than normal to entice you to come back. You have a feeling that San may have talked them into it.
Whatever the reason may be, you very much enjoyed spending their money, taking Yeosang out to dinner with it to celebrate.
Ever the sweetheart, he tried to insist on paying for some of it, at least. But you were just as insistent on doing everything yourself. It felt nice to not have to worry about the price of anything. Freeing. And when the two of you toasted your glasses of champagne at your private rooftop table above the city, you quietly thanked San and Afterdark for their contribution.
Of course, you told Yeosang everything. He admitted that he hasn’t watched it yet, not wanting to overstep a boundary he wasn’t certain of with you. Yeosang isn’t exactly a regular observer of your liveshows either, he only knows that you do them. So, you recount the entire experience. From the driver, to the dressing room, to the set and the aftermath. His face tries not to twist into a scowl every time you mention something that San did, still a bit pissed off on your behalf that there was no aftercare provided even when you told him that it was your own fault. To his credit, he’s able to keep his emotions in control, letting you continue your story. First impressions die hard, misunderstanding or not.
“I still can’t believe his agent asked you for another collab so quickly after,” Yeosang had said, shaking his head at the thought. “Do you think you will? From what I’ve heard, he’s rarely with the same girl twice.”
Your fingers absentmindedly played with your napkin as you answered, “I mean probably. If it’s a rare opportunity, then I should go for it, right?”
Yeosang shrugged, taking a long sip of his champagne. “It’s entirely up to you. But, I say do it.”
It’s been a week since the shoot. Seven days since you found the purple flowers outside of your door, and three days since they wilted and dulled beyond saving. You hated to toss them, so you kept some of the petals with the intention of drying and saving them in a journal or something. The idea is nice. They reminded you of your accomplishment, for your career, and for yourself. And, of course, you kept the card. The humorous finishing touch of a thoughtful gesture.
Two days ago, you went live again. You prefaced it would be a ‘casual’ live, just to talk with everyone, and blushed at all the comments in the chat. Everyone sang your praises, telling you which parts were their favorites, when they busted, how they wished they were San, how they wished they were you, and how much they loved the film in general. You’ve definitely gotten better at receiving compliments as they flooded in, thanking everyone repeatedly until the two words began to sound foreign.
The main question, the one that kept coming up over and over again, ignored by you as much as possible: is there going to be another collab between the two of you again? And when?
Another email, currently sitting in your inbox, contains the same inquiry.
Hongjoong sent it three days ago, giving you some time before he proposed the idea to you again. You know you must be stressing him out with your week of sudden absence, not replying to him at the same speed you once did, but you’ve been unsure of what to say. Or how to word it. The sheer amount of money you two could earn from a collab on your camshow makes you wonder what the hell you’re waiting for. You know why. It’s just that you won’t admit it.
Nevermind that your notorious four offered to collectively pay you another $2,000 if you and San do another collab – you’re not really in it solely for the money anymore. Well, not as much as before. You simply pretend not to see the comments, even though the amount of people who want to know, and collectively wish for a Round Two, overwhelmed the chat section of the screen.
During the live, you also couldn’t help but notice that a certain user had joined again. Without saying anything in the chat, [mntn3000] tipped you another $1,000. You weren’t even in the process of taking your clothes off when he sent that donation. Normally with these talking-only lives, you don’t get paid very much in comparison to the other kind of lives. Intriguing, indeed.
Throughout your time in front of the camera, answering questions and letting your tank top strap fall ‘innocently’ off your shoulder, you kept searching for his username to pop up again. It was strange to you, how much you were focusing on this one random person who, the last time the two of you ‘interacted’, was rather blunt and disarming. You think you like the mystery. It keeps you on your toes.
When it finally did pop up, it was right in the middle of you explaining how you aren’t allowed to say anything in regards to what you and San talked about while on set. Everyone wanted to know what he’s like in real life. You’re pleading the fifth. Speaking of keeping the mystery and intrigue of someone, you’re happy to keep who San really is behind the scenes private.
Upon seeing the username, you straightened up a little more, reading the notification quickly to see if he donated, said anything, or left.
Turns out, he did all three.
[mntn3000]: collab with him again.
[mntn3000] has donated $2,000
[mntn3000] has left the stream
You tried not to gawk at the amount. Definitely one of the highest anyone has donated to you in one go, topping only himself a little more than one week ago. You could almost hear the steam coming out of ‘Woo’’s ears, wherever he was. And the blunt tone from the last show had carried over into this one, not sugarcoating anything for you.
Two thousand dollars, exactly the amount you were paid to shoot with San. The number shouldn’t bother you this much, you should just take it and run, be grateful this mystery man is giving you so much money, and sleep peacefully at night. But something’s still nagging at you, even two days later.
Several things are, actually.
The card on your nightstand may as well be vibrating, shaking the entire wooden structure to get your attention. The number on the back of it, scrawled in blue ink, lays in wait. Perhaps a week is long enough to make him wait. You risk being in danger of him just dropping the idea – and you – altogether.
The thought is enough to finally put yourself into action.
Laying on your stomach on your bed, you triple check that the numbers on the cardstock match the ones you’re typing into your phone. You don’t want to confuse a poor stranger with what you’re about to say. Admittedly, you check about two more times. Your trust in your abilities to be detail-orientated has severely come into question ever since you fucked up the forms.
Once you’re absolutely sure that the numbers all match up, your thumbs hover over the small keyboard. You have two options to choose from for an opening text. The first option is boring, standard: ‘Hey, it’s Y/N :)’. The second option cuts right to the chase: ‘I’m taking you up on your offer. Let me know when? 👀’.
You go back and forth on the emoji use. Something so trivial, and yet you waste about five minutes deleting it, replacing it, and then using it again. You thought you had grown a backbone when it comes to risky texts or emails, as of late. Apparently not. This isn’t even that risky. You mainly are worried that he won’t respond. But you’ll never know until you send it.
How annoying.
You roll your eyes at yourself and just decide to send both of the two options. He’ll have to get over the fact that you double-texted. Fuck it. He gave you his number for you to text or call it, not just for additional decoration among the flowers.
One tap, and it’s gone, out of your reach.
Restless, you decide to get up and take your mind off of it. You unravel your two-inch thick yoga mat onto the floor in the living room, and open the blinds to get some late afternoon sunlight in. Normally, you prefer to do pilates and yoga early in the morning, before the sun even rises. It’s a chance for you to center yourself before the day begins. However, your sleep schedule has made this rather difficult to wake up in time for. Recently, you’ve just been doing pilates and yoga at night. Today is a special case.
It’s late June now, a crisp, blue sky kind of day where the sun preheats the concrete city to prepare for the overbearing heat of July. You’re happy to report that your air conditioning is running at full capacity again. After complaining about it – again – to Yeosang, he finally made you call the landlord to do something to fix it. A maintenance guy was there within the hour. Since then, you’ve kept your apartment rather cold, as if trying to make up for lost days of wallowing in the rising heat. Now though, the sun coming in from the windows won’t hinder your desire to work out during the day if you want to. And you do.
You find comfort in the stretches, admiring how each day you seem to be able to reach a little further, bend a little easier. Knowing you keep getting better is a good motivator. You’ve curated your own workout playlist, currently humming through a portable speaker, and the beat of the current song is perfect for
You and him have unfinished business. Unanswered questions.
One of them being what he meant by ‘manners’.
You sit in a straddle position on your mat, thinking it over for the thousandth time. Maybe you’re just overthinking the entire thing. It’s entirely possible you could’ve just read the interaction wrong. But you have a feeling he did mean something by it. You lean forward, wincing a little at the pain in your legs as your elbows rest on the floor. Another question you have, you already know the answer to. You figured it out in the moment, but you’re still curious. That pretty woman on set, the one San had dismissed, was most likely there in case he needed help staying aroused during breaks – a ‘fluffer’ as they’re known. You guess what you really want to ask him is how often he needs her. The question comes from a place of ego for you, you know that. You’re rather happy he didn’t need her for your scene together. And Hongjoong had said something to that assistant that he didn’t think she’d be needed at all before the two of you were even on set together.
You walk your hands backwards, straightening up and shifting into child’s pose. The faint rubbery smell of the mat and the plush foam against your forehead is just what you need right now. You can feel each muscle in your back relax one by one, clearing any tension there and in your shoulders as well. The sunlight coming in from the window warms the back of your neck and your arms, and you feel like you can stay like this forever. It’s tempting.
A low growl of your stomach prevails over that temptation.
The task of making dinner calls you away from the mat, but at least you feel more energized to do it. You’re thinking grilled chicken alfredo. Something else comforting to distract you from waiting to hear back from San. You wonder what he’s doing right now. Or who.
Once the mat is rolled away, you ban yourself from thinking of San for the time being.
Instead, you call Yeosang as you get out all the necessary pots, pans, and ingredients for your dinner this evening. It’s a tad early for dinner, almost six o’clock, but with your sleep schedule, this will basically be your lunch.
Yeosang picks up on the fourth ring, groggy and mumbling.
“I’m up, I’m up. I’ll be there in a second…” he says, sheets rustling in the background.
“What?” You laugh, pausing your movements to see if you heard him correctly.
He makes a small noise before sighing. “Oh, hey,” he grunts, sounding like he’s finally waking up for real. “Thought you were Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung is the friend that always drags him out on Friday nights. They’ve known each other since childhood, according to Yeosang. You’ve still yet to meet him.
“Going out again?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
“Is it Friday?”
“It is.”
“Then, unfortunately, yes.” He deadpans, groaning into his pillows. Considering the time, they’re probably going to pregame somewhere first before going into the city’s nightlife district.
You laugh, setting a pan down on your gas stove and spraying it to death with cooking oil. “‘Unfortunately’?” You ask, capping the bottle and placing it back in your cupboard. “Why ‘unfortunately’? Not feeling it tonight?”
Yeosang sniffs and yawns before replying, “Not particularly. He’s trying to turn me into an extrovert. And get me laid, but that’s separate.”
You laugh again, “And he’s been unsuccessful, huh?”
“Why do you wanna know?” Yeosang teases, sounding more awake now.
You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you. Hopefully the scoff that you let out gives him a clue, though.
“Excuse me for being interested in your life,” you joke back, pouring the fettuccine noodles into the now boiling pot of water. “Just wanna know if my best friend is now an extrovert who finally has game.”
Yeosang snorts, “Well, we’ll see what Wooyoung can do for me.”
The two of you continue to talk, about nothing really. You, while you cook, and him while he gets dressed and ready. He complains how Wooyoung keeps texting him – apparently they have each other’s location on – and asking where he is. In the past three minutes, he’s threatened to drag Yeosang out of his apartment five times. You ask him several times if he’d rather come over to your place, trying to entice him with your planned meal for the night.
“Tempting,” he says, “but Wooyoung is already coming to put me in my grave.”
You boo, snapping a picture of your dinner in process to further brag about staying in. It’s so funny how the roles have reversed recently. Usually it’s you going out all the time, and Yeosang stays home. You have to admit, you do miss it. Maybe you’ll drag Yeosang out tomorrow night, if at all possible.
“Did you ever text San?” He asks.
So much for trying to get your mind off of him. You stir the pasta absentmindedly, eyes flickering over to check on the chicken sizzling in the pan next to it.
“Yeah, I did. Haven’t heard anything back yet.”
He hums, not saying anything for a moment. That damn first impression again. Nevertheless, he theorizes that San’s probably just busy and will text you later tonight. You hum in agreement, nodding to yourself. It’s what you were telling yourself, too. You hope he’s right.
A few minutes later, in the background on Yeosang’s line, you can hear muffled banging. You can only assume it’s Wooyoung coming to collect your best friend for the night.
“Be safe,” you say, wrapping up the call. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“What, like have fun?”
“I’m hanging up on you.”
“Goodnight~” Yeosang sings, hanging up on you first.
It’s perfect timing actually. By the time he hangs up, the only thing you have to do is drain the pasta and then plate everything. You don’t really feel jealous or like you’re missing out by not going with Yeosang, you’ll probably see him tomorrow. With how crazy this past week has been, it’s nice to sit and do nothing for a night. You’ve tailored your notifications so your phone doesn’t go off every two seconds, keeping it on a Do Not Disturb setting with select people and apps as exceptions – you add San’s contact to it as you sit down in your living room to eat. You send one more picture of the finished product to Yeosang, and then toss your phone next to you on the couch, intent on finding something to watch.
As you eat, you take a second to look around your apartment. Still half unfinished, some moving boxes shoved into the hallway closet and pushed to the side of the entryway, nothing on the walls yet. The floor to ceiling windows on your right could use some curtains eventually, but you haven’t found the right ones. It’s not like you want to cover them up. You’re thinking lace would be nice, and the sunlight through them could make pretty patterns on your living room floor.
The apartment itself, beautiful and everything you wanted, still feels like something’s missing. Lacking in a certain area that you can’t put your finger on. You stab at your food with your fork, annoyed that whatever it is isn’t an obvious fix. Your eyes flicker over to your phone.
Whatever, you tell yourself. I’ll figure it out.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
San texts you back later that night, right as you step out of the shower.
The ringtone nearly makes you hit your forehead on the glass door, not expecting to hear it so loudly through your bluetooth speaker. You stand in your bathroom, staring at your phone like it shouldn’t exist for longer than you’d care to admit. It’s a herculean effort to not read it immediately. You’re trying to force yourself to be patient, finishing one thing before jumping to another. In this case, it’s getting dressed and completing your after-shower routine. Naturally, you speed through the whole routine, leaving parts of your hair still damp, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.
Jumping into bed with bated breath, you finally unlock your phone and click on the message.
[san]: hey pretty girl
[san]: thought you’d never ask ;)
Every worry that he’d tell you to fuck off, or that he doesn’t remember or want you anymore disappears in just seven words. You really wish you could get a hold of yourself again. You hate feeling like a lovestruck teenager gushing over her celebrity crush. Maybe tomorrow, after you unpack more of those boxes you’ve been procrastinating, you’ll work on regrowing a spine. Have some maturity and be a professional. And yet, the butterflies in your stomach still flutter happily, eager to see him again.
And you don’t want to make him – or yourself, for that matter – wait any longer than necessary.
[y/n]: couldn’t keep you in suspense for too long
[y/n]: when are you free?
You wait a couple seconds to see if it’ll change from ‘Delivered’ to ‘Read’ before exiting out and opening Instagram to distract yourself in the meantime. You note the time in the upper lefthand corner of the screen. Half past nine. You’ll definitely be up for a while, so you just settle back against your pillows and scroll through Reels.
But he texts back in the middle of the third reel.
[san]: how kind of you
[san]: email hongjoong back before he has an aneurysm and i’ll tell you
Oh, fuck. You totally forgot about that.
You don’t reply to him, reaching for your laptop at the foot of your bed to pull up the email you’ve been avoiding. It’s sandwiched sadly in between two unread emails, mostly junk. There are other proposals in your inbox, several other talent companies wanting to book you, but nothing as exciting as this one. The little star next to Hongjoong’s name, marking it important, sets it apart from the rest. It reminds you of the first time you saw an email from him. Just over a week ago. Not a long time whatsoever, but it feels like you’ve lived multiple lives since then. Your status has definitely changed. Yourself, not so much.
Tying your hair up to get it out of your face, you reread his message.
__________________________
Dear Miss Y/N,
I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for joining us on Friday for the shoot, it went exceptionally well, and everyone involved enjoyed working with you.
Because of this, we would love to extend an offer for another collaboration between the two of you. If at all possible - and wanted by you, of course - we’d like to ask you to consider having San as a guest-star on your liveshow.
If accepted, you and I will work closely to ensure all of the details and safety measures of the recording are carried out. Mostly, this will be on your terms, as it is your show. As always, please don’t hesitate to reach out with any questions or concerns, and I will try to respond in a timely manner.
Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to hearing back from you.
You’re quite sure ‘enjoyed working with you’ is a polite exaggeration.
You bury your face in your hands as you remember stressing out the crew by neither of you taking breaks. Only once. Talk about insane first impressions, you can’t imagine what they thought of you on that day.
It’s a short and sweet message, similar format and wording to the original one that started this whole thing. Motivated, but still unsure of how to word your response, you type slowly. Each sentence doesn’t come easily, and you probably overthink it too much, but at least you’re doing it. Finally.
Now the ball is rolling again.
The concept of seeing San for the same purpose in the near future is almost overwhelming. To be honest, you’ve been kind of riding a certain type of high ever since you left Hongjoong in the Afterdark lobby. You know full well they’re both after you for this next collab. It’s rather normal in your line of work, to be desired, wanted, sought after. But there’s something different about it now that you’re on an equal playing field as your admirer. It’s more fun. And the two of you have natural chemistry, and good banter. Two things that are notoriously uncommon nowadays. And with a relative celebrity, no less.
Although, you guess you’ll have to start seeing yourself as one soon as well. Your name is known.
It’s currently sitting pretty at the number one spot on the site you use to go live. The most recommended and popular camgirl right now is you. With much thanks in part to the Afterdark collaboration. You make sure to add a couple sentences in your response draft to express your gratitude towards the Afterdark team, and to Hongjoong himself. He truly made everything to do with the collaboration so much easier. Though you were doing just fine on your own, the explosion of your popularity really is partly because of him and San. They elevated your career higher than you thought possible. When you first turned on your camera, laptop pointed at your bed, you never thought you’d get to this level. Number one, thousands of fans, and thousands of dollars in your bank account. It makes you feel accomplished. Proud.
Eventually, you complete a reply that you’re happy to send off to him. You grin at the memory of the speed of his response the last time you accepted an offer from him, and wait around in your inbox to see if that will be repeated again.
When nothing from him comes up after five minutes, you decide that you’ll be productive and wash the dishes from dinner. You really are trying to work on your impatience in regards to when people respond to you. It’s a little hypocritical of you considering you made both Hongjoong and San wait seven full days before hearing anything back.
The dishes are distracting enough. Almost. You keep glancing at your phone on the counter, nearly dropping a plate when you try to place it onto the drying rack without looking. Maybe you need to do another round of yoga to calm the hell down. You roll your eyes at yourself and take four deep breaths after safely stacking the pan into the drying rack. You’re being ridiculous.
He’s just a guy.
It’s the influx of attention that’s making you crazy, surely. There’s no one to walk you through how to navigate newfound, sudden relative fame. Just as you are in your liveshow, you’re on your own for this.
Now you’re strongly considering asking Hongjoong if he could possibly be your agent.
Finishing up the dishes, you dry your hands on a small hand towel. If you actually go through with it and ask him… wouldn’t that technically mean you’re signed with Afterdark? You’d have to ask him or San. You think you’re putting off asking because of that very reason. Afterdark isn’t a camshow company. Even though you loved doing the collaboration with San, you don’t think you’d like doing traditional porn forever. You much prefer having everything set up the way you want it, with only one camera to worry about, and the closer fan connection.
It’s also definitely the convenience of already knowing Hongjoong that keeps you from looking elsewhere. And you trust him, so far. It’s something to think about. You’d rather have all the information in front of you before you jump into anything semi-longterm like that.
As you walk back into your bedroom, phone in hand, you get another message.
[san]: thank you, baby ;)
[san]: when we do it is really up to you, if we’re shooting at your place
[san]: i’ll find time
You lean against your bedroom doorway, fingers idle above the keyboard. He’s right, this time it really is up to you and whenever is convenient for you. Your schedule is probably a thousand times lighter than his, though. Since you do most of your shows late at night, you theorize that it’s more than likely that he has more free time during that time of day. However, you know a lot of his shoots are filmed at night. Technically the one you were a part of, included.
‘I’ll find time’, he said.
Without looking up from your phone, you make it back to bed and slowly sink down onto the mattress. All the while, rereading that message. You know you’re dangerously close to reading between the lines here, possibly lines that don’t even exist. From what you know of San so far though, is that he doesn’t mince words. He’s incredibly honest about what he wants, and makes a point to go after it. Even so, you try to brush off any thoughts of a deeper meaning.
The next text from him pops up as you’re just starting to type a response.
[san]: you wouldn’t be free tomorrow night would you?
Tomorrow. Saturday night. They’re pretty equivalent to Fridays in terms of how much traffic you can get on a livestream. Add San into the mix and… you exhale slowly, imagining a number beyond your usual income. Going out with Yeosang can wait. You grin as you start to text San back. Yeosang has no idea that San just saved him from another consecutive night out. If he knew, maybe that’d improve his view of him even more.
[y/n]: something tells me you’re making hongjoong’s job a whole lot harder by scheduling these things so last minute
[san]: let me deal with joong
[san]: it’s my first saturday night off in four months and i want to see you again
[san]: so… can i see you tomorrow? 👀
Your breath catches at the end of his second text, fingers frozen over the keyboard. The wording he used in particular is what gets you. Makes you pause. He could’ve said ‘I wanna fuck you again’, or ‘I wanna be with you again’. ‘See you again’ sounds like a lighter way than just saying he wants to come over and make money on camera. Like he’s actually interested in you. He wants to spend his one Saturday night off… with you. You silently curse Wooyoung for making Yeosang unavailable to give you his thoughts on all of this. If there’s an underlying message or tone, or if he’s just stating facts. You’re on your own for now.
[y/n]: i’m free :)
[y/n]: do you wanna come over around 9?
[y/n]: i usually go live around 10 or 11
[san]: sounds perfect
[san]: should i bring anything?
You sit and think about it for a moment. Not really? Although, you’re not sure what he has in mind. If he’s thinking in terms of the show, then all he needs is himself, pretty much. If he’s thinking of more flowers, you’ve got an open vase for them.
[y/n]: i can’t think of anything right now..?
[y/n]: just yourself ! (or whatever you want to bring tbh)
There’s a longer pause in between his next text back to you.
[san]: okay :3
[san]: i’ll see you tomorrow then ;)
Right.
You drop your hands into your lap, looking up from your phone in disbelief. It takes forever for your heart to stop racing, matching pace with your thoughts.
Already planning in the silence of your apartment, you start making a mental list of everything you need to do before he gets here. You need to clean your bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom, and the living room (basically your entire apartment), do laundry, get ready, light candles to make your room smell good, set up the tech equipment, eat somewhere in the middle of all of this, and shower and get ready as well. Unfortunately, you’re looking at a day where you have to be up earlier than mid-afternoon.
But if this is the reason for it, you can’t complain.
You hop out of bed, assessing how much time you need to put aside for cleaning. Which areas need more attention than most. It shouldn’t be anything too crazy. You only moved in a month ago, and you keep your spaces tidy. It’s just that you want to impress him. Make a strong second impression. You think you’ll start with your bedroom first, as that’s where most of your time together will be spent.
A shiver runs through you as you stand in the middle of your apartment, arms folded. Barely twenty-four hours from now, you’ll be live. With him.
You run a hand through your hair, breathing deeply.
Which version will you get this time?
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
Today may be the first day in several months you wake up before three in the afternoon.
It’s half past two, but it’s still earlier than normal. No alarm needed. The afternoon has started without you, meeting time already on the horizon. You don’t waste time lazing in bed, you have a lot to do before San arrives. Even though you’re not expecting him at your door until nine tonight, you’re restless. So, you give yourself small tasks to do. Like, for example, try to get your best friend up from your couch.
Last night, Yeosang texted you after you finally calmed down enough to get back in bed. You were nearly halfway through the fourth episode of a K-Drama you’re half-interested in when your phone buzzed. Twice, in succession.
[yeoyeo🌻]: no one interstng, comingg o ver :3
[yeoyeo🌻]: u bbetter br awake -.-
You almost rolled your eyes at him for thinking you would be asleep before three in the morning. Not likely. Not with the unexpected development happening tomorrow. There’s simply too much to think about.
[y/n🌸]: i’m awake
[y/n🌸]: i’ll unlock the door, just lock it behind u pls
Even after Yeosang got to your apartment twenty minutes later, you didn’t move out of bed to greet him. He knows the drill. Even before you both lived in the city, the two of you had an open door policy. You’re too engrossed in replaying everything earlier – somewhat still in disbelief it happened at all.
Tonight though, you know you’ll see him. In your apartment. And you have a considerably large window of time to put in effort towards how you look. Roughly six hours. Plus, it’ll be the first time you see him since the shoot.
Almost like a sped up version of last night, you move around your apartment like a pinball, going from one room to another. You check on Yeosang, who’s turned over with his back facing you on your couch. Faintly, you see the dim glow of his phone, so you know he’s awake. Just deep in his hangover and not in the mood to talk yet. You’re like that when you’re hungover as well.
One of the tasks you give yourself is laundry. You want to have every outfit option available. When the machine happily rings out a little tune at the start of the cycle, you hear Yeosang groan into the couch cushion, covering his ears with your throw blanket. Wait until you bring out the vacuum. The man needs coffee desperately. And something for his head, if you want him to even consider drinking ever again. At least he’s not holed up in your bathroom.
You force yourself to slow down a bit, taking time to make coffee for Yeosang and make yourself a late lunch / early dinner out of your leftovers from last night. You sit at your dining table, and eventually Yeosang drags himself over, sitting across from you. He takes small sips of the coffee you made for him, turning his face from the sunlight coming in through the windows. You really do need curtains.
“Look who’s finally up,” you tease, twirling the pasta around your fork.
Yeosang groans, “Don’t remind me.”
“Wooyoung’s success rate for you is looking a little grim.” You smirk, covering your mouth as you speak and chew at the same time.
“I don’t know,” he says, “he was successful last week.”
Your head pops up again. “You didn’t tell me!”
It’s not that surprising that Wooyoung was successful. Not really. Anyone trying to advertise beauty like Yeosang’s isn’t exactly in for a hard sell. No one would hesitate to go home with him, it’s just that he’s shy. Quiet, as well, which sometimes makes people think he doesn’t want to talk with them. That’s where most of Wooyoung’s heavy lifting comes in, you imagine.
“You were pretty busy with San,” he points out, shrugging nonchalantly.
Ah. That would be why. All your rambling to him about the shoot, he probably didn’t think to bring it up until now. You’d hate to have this friendship feel one-sided, so even though you’re absolutely dying to tell him about what happened last night – and what will happen tonight – you take a step back.
“Well, go on. Tell me about last night.”
Yeosang shrugs again. “Same bar, same people. No one caught my attention. Got way drunker than I meant to though. Wooyoung went home with someone, but he texted me this morning so he’s fine. Nothing really to report… some guy got thrown out for trying to start a fight, but that’s pretty much it.”
He reaches over and steals a piece of chicken from your bowl. You jab the fork at his hand as he pulls away, victoriously popping it into his mouth.
“Maybe next time will be better,” you say. Yeosang groans at the very idea of a possible ‘next time’.
“Next time, I’m not drinking a damn thing. This sucks.” He mumbles, taking a big sip of his coffee. He winces as it goes down, like it’s tequila.
You nod along, absentmindedly twirling more pasta around your fork. He tilts his head, trying to read your faraway look.
“San’s coming over tonight,” you blurt out. No build up, just straight fact.
Yeosang raises his eyebrows. “For what?”
“Gardening. What do you think?” You laugh, feeling good to get some of your nervous excitement out.
“The collab? Already? Damn, he must want you bad.” He smirks, setting his coffee mug down. The smirk doesn’t reach his eyes, though. Not out of jealousy, but caution.
You wave his words away, ignoring them as if they couldn’t possibly be true. It’s a money opportunity, and he happens to be nice. That’s most likely all it is. You tell yourself that you can be okay with that reality.
You almost fully believe it.
“Everything with him always happens so fast…” you sigh, half-heartedly chewing your food.
Yeosang shifts in his seat, obviously holding himself back from making a joke. You look up at him through your eyelashes, daring him to. He hides behind another sip of coffee.
“You know what I mean, perv.” You mumble, only making Yeosang laugh into his drink.
He holds his hands up like he’s surrendering, signalling that he means no harm.
Bowl now empty, you bring it over into the kitchen sink, putting off washing it until later. For now, you just run some water into it to soak. Yeosang’s still working on his coffee, only taking small sips now to not overwhelm his stomach. Smart boy.
“Are you feeling any better?” You ask, gesturing to the coffee.
Yeosang nods slowly, careful to not move too much and aggravate his headache any further. “Getting there,” he says, “think I’ll go home and nap soon. Have you seen my wallet, by the way?”
You look around you, like it’ll just pop up right in front of you, but to no luck. He doesn’t seem too bothered about it. He knows he had it when he fell asleep here, feeling it in his jean pocket. It must’ve fallen out somewhere.
He stretches his arms up over his head, groaning again as he feels something crack. He walks back over to your living room and folds up the blanket he used, setting it over the back of the couch where he found it before heading for the front door.
Yeosang looks up at you as he puts his shoes on in the entryway.
“I hope everything goes well,” he says. “Seriously.”
“Thanks, Yeo,” you reply, “me too. Now go get some sleep, please.”
After a quick hug, and an agreement to text him if you find his wallet, he’s out the door, bound for his well-needed nap back home.
The laundry machine beeps again, and you check the time on the oven clock to see how much time you have left. You still have a little less than five hours to get ready. You walk back over to your phone on your way to collect your laundry from the wash, just to see if you’ve missed anything from San. Not yet.
But Hongjoong emailed you back twenty minutes ago.
You sit right back down at the dining table, opening the notification.
__________________________
Dear Miss Y/N,
Thank you for the kind words, and for getting back to me.
We are delighted to hear that you are willing to do another collaboration with San. Since we already have your forms from the last shoot, there is no need to fill those out again. However, I will attach a long-term discretion form for you to sign that will cover any other future collaborations in the future, just so you don’t have to do it every time.
Because this collaboration will be held on your liveshow, please let me know if we should prepare or know anything in advance, or if there are any set rules you may have about your show.
Due to the last minute scheduling, if you wouldn’t mind sending this to me by 6:00PM at the latest, that would be much appreciated.
As always, I look forward to hearing back from you.
If you wanted a distraction from looking at the clock, you got it.
‘Any set rules’. You draw a blank.
Going live is pretty straightforward, you just hit ‘Go Live’ and start from there. The difference is it’s all raw and real. No physical audience, no crew breaks. You handle everything yourself, from the technical side to the entertainment side. On and off camera. If there were to be rules on your liveshow, you suppose one of them would be the same as Afterdark’s first rule: consent. They didn’t make you feel trapped once the scene started, and neither will you once you click that button. It’s important. You want San to have the same out that you had, if needed.
You type that into the response draft.
A similar question to the one San asked last night jumps out as your eyes filter through the email again: ‘...let me know if we should prepare or know anything in advance…’.
Again, you have to think about it for a moment until it comes to you. It’s nothing that Afterdark, Hongjoong, or San really has to worry about, as you’ll be the one to take care of it – just that you’ll be the one wrangling your fans in the chat. The chat is real time, and sometimes nasty comments happen in real time. You do your best to ignore them, and your four attack-dog admins are pretty good at booting them from the livestream quickly, but you should still let them know it can and does happen occasionally. Since it’s your show, though, you’ll deal with it if it happens. You’ve gotten good at ignoring them, remembering the people saying such vulgar, terrible things are probably insecure, lonely, jealous people. You don’t know how used to real-time ‘critiques’ San is, but that’s definitely something to prepare for.
It’s added right alongside the consent rule.
Altogether, you only kill about ten minutes writing the email. Most of the time, you spend sitting in motionless silence, trying to think about anything else to tell them about going live. Nothing too important is really coming to mind. Everything else you could say isn’t much different to what one would expect from doing a camshow right out of the gate.
The form he attached is an easy DocuSign, able to sign by just typing your name straight into the document. You sign it gladly.
Satisfied with what you have, you send it off. One step closer to it actually happening.
Again.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
The only other time your apartment has been this level of clean was when you moved in.
Every countertop is sparkling, and every room smells like apples and cinnamon. It’s more of an autumnal scent combination, but you like what you like, no matter the time of year. You bathe your room in soft lighting, only turning your LED fairy-lights on to create your usual camshow atmosphere. The color of them, you’ll get San’s input on when he gets here.
There’s no clutter, everything tidied up and or swept into a closet or under your bed. You’ve yet to put all of your shelves up. The moving boxes, you had to come to terms with. They’ll just have to stay where they are. By the time you get around to those, you’re already cutting into the time you wanted to spend getting ready. An everything shower, as usual, and a blowout takes time. Your arms have been putting in some serious work all day, and more is still expected of them later.
To give them somewhat of a break, as you’re waiting for your hair to dry once out of the shower, you place your laptop onto your lap, pulling up the Discord chatroom. You quickly type in that the second collaboration is happening tonight – surprise! – and to make sure they don’t miss it. As if they ever would.
[fix0nmi]: FUCK
[mars9843]: y/n pls think of my mental health
[woogoesthere]: im gonna start breathign into a paper bag
[puppyu.u]: omfg i cant wait
They’ll spread the word to other fans outside of the chat faster than you can.
You wander into your kitchen, intent on getting a snack to boost your energy. You’re going to need all the carbs you can get to tackle your hair and do a live with San. The quickest snack to have is one of your mini yogurt cups. You grab a spoon and sit on your couch, forcing yourself to slow down and take a breath for a second while you eat. You’re halfway done, double-checking the state of the living room when you notice something peeking out from under your coffee table.
Upon closer inspection, you recognize it as Yeosang’s wallet.
Shit.
You place the yogurt down, in favor of your phone and the wallet. Snapping a picture of it, you send evidence of its recovery to Yeosang. He texts back quickly, as always.
[yeoyeo🌻]: oh thank fuck
[yeoyeo🌻]: i was starting to think i actually left it at the club
[yeoyeo🌻]: do you mind if i swing by and get it now??? he’s not there already is he
You glance up at the time. It takes Yeosang roughly ten minutes to get to you, eight if he rushes. It’s late enough that he won’t be delayed by traffic if he drives.
[y/n🌸]: not yet but u gotta get here now
[y/n🌸]: i still have to do my hair
[yeoyeo🌻]: omw rn‼️
As a repeat of last night, you think you’ll just leave the door unlocked. San hasn’t texted you yet, so you try to calm down about rushing Yeosang. He’ll message you when he gets home, as he stated in a text he sent this morning.
Yogurt gone, you throw the empty cup into the trash and check Yeosang’s location. He just left his apartment. You unlock your door and head back into your bathroom, feeling a bit rejuvenated from the snack.
For a couple seconds, you stare at your hairdryer, in denial of how long it’s going to take. Phone still connected to the bluetooth speaker, you switch playlists, going for a more sultry mood instead of an upbeat one. Bedroom pop. You toss your phone onto your bed, and get to work. There’s no time to delay it any longer.
Barely into the first song, you feel the vibe.
Singing along to the songs that come up on shuffle help distract you from the pain of holding your arms up for so long. The beauty gods must be smiling upon you tonight, because your hair is coming out perfectly. With every section you blow out, the slight curls fall just right every time, without fail.
You can only hope this kind of luck carries over to your makeup as well.
As you unclip the third-to-last section of hair, you hear sounds coming from your front door. You turn off your hairdryer and listen, just to be sure it’s Yeosang and not an intruder.
“Where’d you put it?” You hear a familiar voice shout.
Good, it is Yeosang.
“It’s on the kitchen counter!” You shout back, “Next to the fridge!”
You really hope he doesn’t say anything else because you promptly turn the hairdryer back on, effectively blocking out all noise. After a minute or so, you hear a faint knock on your bedroom door. You lean back, finding Yeosang standing there, trying to not scare you by alerting you of his presence first. He leans against the doorway to your bathroom, wallet secured in his pocket. Hopefully for good this time. Content to just watch you and hang out for a minute, he waits until the hairdryer gets turned off.
Even though he can see you clearly in the mirror, you turn to him.
“Good?” You ask, fluffing the front and the back with your hand.
“Good,” he confirms, helping you wrap up the cord to the hairdryer and placing it back on the counter. “Need me to hand you stuff for your makeup?”
“Please.” You nod, gathering everything you’ll need.
You lock in the blowout with some light setting hairspray. Just as you came to realize last week, you know your hair is going to end up messy anyway. Nevertheless, you like the way it looks. Before, and after.
Sitting on your bathroom counter, nose to mirror as you do your eyeliner, you and Yeosang perfect a little system. He’s watched you do your makeup so many times before, he knows what to hand you next after you complete a step. It’s like a two-person bucket brigade of makeup products. After a couple of minutes, you start to get suspicious of how much time has passed.
“Can you grab my phone for me?” You ask Yeosang. Your makeup is so tantalizingly close to being done. All you have to do is evenly wing your eyeliner, curl your lashes and apply mascara. Done.
Yeosang nods, hurrying off to collect your phone.
“San texted you,” he says as he comes back, handing it to you for you to read. You hold your breath, noting that it was sent fifteen minutes ago.
[san]: just got home
[san]: i’ll jump in the shower and be omw soon
“Fuck–” you hiss, abandoning your idea for perfectly matching winged eyeliner and just making sure the waterlines are clean instead. “Yeo, how long does it usually take for you to shower?”
“Five or ten minutes, maybe?” He says, “If I was getting ready for what he’s gonna do though, probably closer to ten.”
You love having a male encyclopedia as a best friend. Any question you may have about guys, he has an answer. ‘Years of experience’, he’d say.
As soon as you’re satisfied with your eyeliner, and you’ve curled your lashes, you look back down at your phone. You’re about to send San your address when you remember the flowers at your door. The freak already has it. Instead, you send him parking directions, even though they’re pretty straight forward. The lot is easy to find by the apartment building.
What you don’t know is how far he lives from you.
Setting your phone down, you waste no more time getting ready. Once again, you look to Yeosang for the final approval. He gives you the go ahead, and the two of you walk back out into the kitchen.
“You have your wallet this time?” You ask, grabbing yourself a water bottle from the fridge.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out, proving it. You nod once, twisting the cap off of the bottle and pouring it into your reusable one. It’s light purple. You wonder if San will say anything about it. Especially when he sees your room with all of the purple accents.
He’s gonna be in my room, your inner voice screams. Your nervous energy hits you hard again, and you have to shake it out of your hands. The overthinking comes back in full swing, too.
“Should I make him dinner? What the fuck do I do?”
Luckily, Yeosang is as calm as ever. “If he mentions being hungry, order a pizza like a normal adult.”
“Nothing about this is normal.” You mumble, leaning against the kitchen counter, burying your face in your hands.
Yeosang chuckles, texting someone on his own phone with one hand. “Pizza’s less stress, less romantic than if you actually make him something,” He pauses, gaze shifting towards you. “Unless ‘romantic’ is what you’re going for?”
“No! No, I’m just trying to be a good host.” You deflect.
“Mhm.”
“This isn’t a date, Yeosang.”
He shrugs, trying – and failing – to hide a smile. “Sure, it’s not.”
You cross your arms. “We’re literally meeting up to fuck on camera. For money. What kind of freaky-ass dates are you going on?”
“Wooyoung gets me into some freaky-ass situations,” he says, successfully bringing some of your nervous energy down a couple of levels.
You roll your eyes and point at the door.
Just as if you summoned him by doing so, there’s a knock on the front door.
Both of you freeze, hoping you just hallucinated it. But Yeosang gives you a look. He definitely heard it too. Unless it’s a rare case of folie à deux, San is actually here.
“Shit–” you whisper, hurrying to the door.
There’s no time to calm yourself down, nor prepare yourself before you open the door. No, you just get hit in the face by San’s otherworldly beauty head-on. In the hallway lights, his naturally tanned skin glows beautifully, his clear skin shining without any need for highlight. He’s holding a folded hoodie and has a backpack slung over one shoulder. He’s the most dressed down you’ve seen him up until now: grey sweatpants and a tight, white T-shirt. Part of you doubts that it's meant to be tight, it just is on him because of his muscular form.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him since the shoot day. Your first instinct is to stare at the ground, avoid eye contact, mumble a greeting he’d have to lean in closer to hear. But he’s just a guy. And the girl you just saw in your bedroom mirror would look him right in the eye. If he’s not being awkward around you, then neither should you.
Lost in the sight of him, you miss how his eyes light up when he sees you.
“Hi,” he smiles, slightly bowing with his head.
“Hey,” you greet, a true master of words.
There are those dimples again. They complement him so well.
Before you lose focus, you open the door wider, forcing yourself to remember that he’s not here just so you can stare at him in the hallway. He steps in as you make room for him to enter. Almost immediately, his eyes land on Yeosang, still leaning against your kitchen counter.
Both of them straighten at the sight of the other.
“San, this is my best friend, Yeosang.” You introduce them.
Yeosang bows his head in greeting, which San returns politely after a brief hesitation.
“Will he be joining us…?” San asks, looking at you confusedly.
Yeosang jumps in before you can say anything, “Oh, no, I was just on my way out. Y/N, I’ll text you tomorrow.”
You could kiss him right now for not staying any longer. Yeosang always knows when to make an exit. The two of you exchange goodbyes, he nods once more to San, and he’s out the door.
The door closes automatically behind your best friend, but you step forward to double check it anyway, as you always do. Behind you, San is silent. He keeps his folded hoodie in his arms, looking down at the floor. His confident air seems snatched away.
“I’m sorry about that,” you say, turning back around to face him, “he came over to get his wallet back right before you got here. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Fuck… You know how bad this looks and how fake it sounds. You peek up at San, hoping he believes you. It doesn’t seem like San was really listening to your reasoning, though. He recognized Yeosang as the guy from the video. Several different emotions at once seem to be battling for dominance on his face, not knowing which one should win and be felt.
San sniffs, shifting his weight. “Does he, um… know what we’re doing?”
“Yeosang?”
San nods. You tilt your head, not fully understanding what he’s trying to ask.
“Going live. Yes, he knows.”
San’s eyes are still glued downwards, anxiously picking at a small piece of dead skin by his cuticle. Guilt shrouds him like a weighted blanket. But instead of holding his questions in, he asks you them. He’s been down a similar road to what he thinks is happening now, and he really hopes he’s wrong.
“Are you dating him?”
You’re quick to reply, “No, I’m not.”
“I just… I wouldn’t want to get in between something–” San starts to say, and you take a step closer to him. Hopefully proximity will drive home that you’re telling him the truth.
“We’re really good friends, but that’s it. I wouldn’t keep a relationship secret from you.”
San scratches the back of his neck, “You’d be surprised how many people do.”
That gives you pause. You can hear the underlying hurt in his words. His trust must have been broken many times before, you can’t exactly blame him for trying to get to the bottom of what you and Yeosang’s relationship really is. You never told him about it. Why would you? The only thing he knows is that he was with you during a live once. Sure, you’d prefaced in the beginning of that video with Yeosang that he was just a friend helping you out, but most people skip the beginning to get right to the action. Most people would assume you’re dating or involved in some way without any other context. They only see that a hot guy is fingering you on camera, kissing the top of your head when it’s all over, and that you appear comfortable in his arms.
His reluctance to meet your gaze makes you wonder.
Was his initial offer for a collab a shot in the dark? Did he even dare to hope that you’d say yes?
You want to put all of his worries to rest right now. You grab your phone off the kitchen counter, unlocking it. “If I call Yeosang right now, he’ll tell you the same thing. I swear to you.”
San lifts a hand to stop you, finally meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna come across as…” he trails off, struggling to find the right word. You fill in the blanks yourself.
Jealous, perhaps?
You move closer to him, gingerly placing a hand on his back. “It’s alright, Sannie.”
You don’t know where the nickname comes from, but it seems to have an affect on him. He freezes. You can feel his spine stiffen, and his breathing halts for a moment. It lasts maybe two seconds before he resets. He scratches the back of his neck again, not quite meeting your gaze anymore.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize quickly, taking your hand off of him, “should I not call you that?”
San is just as quick to explain himself, “Oh, no it’s okay. I, um… actually, I love when people call me that.”
Now that he’s turned back towards you again, you can see why he avoided looking at you in the first place. He’s blushing. Just as he would if your roles were reversed, you smell blood in the water. And you’re ready to follow it.
But you want to make absolutely sure that he trusts you.
“You believe me, right?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, trying to meet his eyes again. “I genuinely wouldn’t do that to you.”
San nods a little slowly, convincing himself first and foremost. You give him the time to do so. You open the fridge and grab another water bottle, offering it to him. He accepts it, unscrewing the cap and pinning it between his fingers as he takes a sip.
“I believe you,” he says carefully, like he’s still not one hundred percent convinced.
You don’t take offense. If you came to his place and a girl was there before you’re scheduled to mattress-act, you’d have some conflicting thoughts and feelings about it too.
He screws the cap back on and sets the bottle down on the counter. Then, he looks at you. Fully.
He drinks in your appearance, just as you had when you opened the door. Appreciating every detail, all the effort you put in for him. Head to toe, you look perfect. Absolutely beautiful. He can see the worry that still lingers in your eyes, hoping he doesn’t think of you as someone who would betray his trust or lie to him. It was just a shock. Not who he expected to see in your apartment, if anyone at all. Plus, if Yeosang really is your boyfriend, he must be totally fine with someone else fucking his girlfriend on camera for the world to see. Granted, there are some men that wouldn’t mind, but he hasn’t met many.
San looks over his shoulder, just now hearing the light music coming from the direction of your bedroom. The singer’s voice is smooth, low as they sing alongside a deep bassline and an accompanying synth. The thought of you getting ready to this kind of music makes him grin. Mood music, for sure.
“No one else is in my apartment,” you jokingly promise, “it’s just my speaker.”
He chuckles, breaking any leftover tension between you, and straightens up. He lifts up his hoodie, silently asking where he should put it for now. You take it from him, opting to hang it up in the coat closet. It’s your first time using said coat closet. He sets his bag down next to your kitchen island for now, out of the way so neither of you will trip on it.
As you’re hanging the hoodie up, you don’t notice that he’s moved closer behind you. When he places his hands gently around your waist, he doesn’t miss how you inhale sharply, not expecting it. He hums as he feels your body slowly relax into his touch. You freeze in place for just half a second until your brain catches up. You close the door and press back into him.
He inhales deeply, sighing into your hair. You copy him, if only to steady your pounding heart. Just you, him, the faint music in the background, and the promise of what’s to come in the near future.
You turn around to face him properly, shyly wrapping your arms around him, over his shoulders, hands clasped together at the back of his neck. Memories of last week flood your brain. They make it almost impossible to focus on the present, as every reminder of his touch only brings you right back to that day. The last time his hands were on you.
No one’s watching you now. Not yet, anyway.
His gaze is soft as he looks down at you. It’s nice like this. A chance to get used to each other again, outside of the ‘set’. Or, in this case, your bedroom. The time you spent rushing, making sure you were getting everything done, hurrying through everything, suddenly slows from a sprint to a crawl.
Still, you can’t quite make eye contact with him for more than a second.
“I believe I owe you something.” He says, gently squeezing your waist.
Right. But does he mean now? Before the live? You weren’t expecting that. However, you’re starting to look forward to the unexpected every time San is involved. He really is like if a ‘go with the flow’ lesson came to life to teach you the mentality.
“Can I make it up to you first, pretty girl?” he whispers, searching for your reaction.
You nod, looking up at him like you’re hypnotized.
“Words, baby.”
You nod again before snapping back into reality. “Yes.”
He smiles again, melting you from the inside out. The two of you stay like this for only a moment or two longer before pulling away. He leans down to collect his backpack again, slinging it over one shoulder. You don’t even question what he has in it.
Dazed, you force yourself to move your feet forward.
“Um, my bedroom’s this way.” You lead, spine tingling as you walk, knowing he’s following right behind you.
The dim, golden light and the faint scent of cinnamon caresses your senses as you enter your room. You stand in the middle of it, eyes checking to make sure everything is as clean as you left it before giving yourself something to do. You check the integrity of your tripod, even though you’ve never had a problem with it before. Your laptop sits open and ready in the center of the bed, waiting to be moved and angled just right to capture everything.
San sets his bag down again, by the foot of your bed. You want to ask what’s in it so badly, but your mouth is going dry. Taking a quick glance around you, you realize both of you left your respective water bottles out in the kitchen.
“I’m gonna go grab our waters,” you tell him, stepping back towards the door, “I’ll be right back.”
You need a minute to breathe. To chill out. You jog into the kitchen to get rid of more of your pent up nerves, and also not wanting to idle when Choi San is in your fucking bedroom. Two deep breaths in and out do nothing to slow your heartrate. Clutching both your reusable and his plastic bottle in your hands, you slow to a walk just out of view of your doorway.
The image of Choi San sitting on the edge of your bed nearly puts you in cardiac arrest.
The fairy lights you turned on instead of the ugly overhead light make him look ethereal. Unreal. His body is relaxed, leaning back on his hands as he waits for you. You try to ignore how good his arms look, how you can see the faint lines of his abs through his shirt. His freshly washed hair falls perfectly across his forehead. You’ve never had this much gender envy before now.
You only hope you’re as appealing to him as he is to you.
When you fully step into your room again, his feline eyes find you immediately. He stands up to meet you in the middle, grabbing his water from you.
“Thanks, baby.” He says smoothly, finding your hand again.
Rather boldly, you lead him back towards your bed. He follows easily.
“So,” you start, turning to face him as you sit down on the side of your bed, “how do you want to make it up to me?”
It’s a miracle your voice doesn’t shake as you speak.
San stands in front of you, not joining you just yet. He places his water on your nightstand before his hands card through your hair. You close your eyes, loving how gentle his touch is on your scalp. A small noise escapes you before you can stop it, and he grins.
He nods towards the head of your bed, “Can you lay down for me, baby?”
Honestly, you think you’d lie down in oncoming traffic if he asked you to. The rich timbre of his voice is clouding your mind, wanting to hear more and more. Wanting to be good. So you do as he says, scooting yourself backwards until you’re laying against your pillows.
You watch as he walks around to the side of the bed, joining you from there. Your core clenches around nothing as you watch him lay down next to you. However, your hungry gaze softens as he silently guides you to lay against his chest, pressed by his side.
His arms wrap around you easily, breathing in the sweet fragrance of your shampoo and perfume. Your hand rests in the middle of his abdomen, cheek to his chest. One of your ankles crosses over his, finding yourself wanting to be as close to him as possible.
“Mm…” San sighs, eyes closing.
After hours of stressing, cleaning, and prepping, your mind is finally quiet. Almost blank. Only the sounds of your breathing and his, and the soft music still coming from the speaker in your bathroom. You think back to last week, and how much you craved this as you watched him walk away. A stupid mistake on your part cost you something you needed to have after sex, but it’s happening now. Before anything happens.
And you really appreciate that. You didn’t realize how much you needed this before until now. Your body relaxes into his even more, and he holds you tighter, whispering praises.
“You were such a good girl for me,” he breathes, his hand lightly rubbing your arm. “Made me feel so good… everyone loved you.”
You hum, burying your face into his chest. Everything you longed to hear last week, he’s saying it now.
“Took everything I gave you so well. Knew I had to have you again.”
Now you shiver. The thought of him deciding the same day that he wanted to be with you again nearly sends you into overdrive. He feels you clench your thighs together and purrs.
For your sanity, he lets the relative silence wash over the two of you again, content to hold you like this for a little longer. But now your memory has been activated, replaying every moment of what you remember from last week. Soaking the bed, riding him, hearing him moan with his dick in your mouth, the warmth of his cum spilling inside of you. You’re not sure how long you two have been laying here, but you know it’s all going to happen again, and soon. In the comfort of your apartment. No director or bright lights, no cameramen in your face. If you simply ignore your laptop, it really will be just the two of you.
San feels you getting a bit restless, and he kisses the crown of your head. With his right hand, he tilts your chin so you’re looking up at him. His thumb presses ever so slightly on your bottom lip, silently asking for entry. Your mind blanks as you open your mouth, his thumb sliding into your mouth. Eyes fluttering shut again, he praises you as you wrap your lips around the digit. Your restlessness vanishes almost instantly with the pressure against your tongue.
“Is that what you need, baby? Need something in your mouth?” He asks, watching you closely, filing this information away for later.
You hum around it, feeling like you’re drifting already. Everything feels warm. Light. You’re almost sleepy, and you have to consciously make sure you’re not drooling all over his hand. He definitely has seen clips of your camshow before; you always subconsciously or purposefully have something in your mouth. It’s just comforting for some reason. You haven’t really delved into the psychology of why, but it is. Now that you think about it, your oral fixation is probably why you got so wet while sucking his dick last week. In the moment, you didn’t put two and two together.
After a few more minutes, you feel him start to pull his hand away and you whine. He shushes you, stroking your arm again.
“Keep being good for me, and I’ll give you more later.”
That shuts you up.
You nod against his chest, quietly sighing. The promise of ‘more’ makes you antsy against him. You’re not sure if he’s trying to calm you down, as aftercare suggests, or rile you up for the live. Maddeningly, you think it’s somehow both.
He moves some hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear for an unobstructed view of you. You look up at him again.
“Can I kiss you, baby?” He whispers.
You can’t say ‘yes’ fast enough. Actually, you don’t even bother.
As soon as the question leaves him, you push yourself up to press your lips to his. He tastes just as good as he did last week. Minty and warm. San sighs in content, hands framing your face. You think you could kiss him forever. It just feels right. Kissing him before the camera is on you is reminiscent of the ‘warm up’ last week as well. A private prelude to the main event.
He takes his time, tilting his head to kiss you even deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth without any resistance or fight from you. It’s all so dizzying; the skill of his lips and the softness of his tongue combined with the weight of his warm hands on your body.
A soft, whiny noise escapes you, into his mouth, and he smirks against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his. You may be teasing him a bit as you look at him with Bambi-like innocence. It never fails to get you what you want, or to motivate a man to just touch you already.
You double down, to really drive it home. “Sannie, please…”
It works somewhat, the nickname he told you that he loves makes him tense a little. He loves to hear you say it. Nevertheless, he sees right through your underlying intentions. He’s a professional after all, he’s seen that look before. He’s heard every plea.
“That little innocent act won’t work on me, kitten,” he whispers, moving down to press a hot kiss to your neck. “You forget I can see who likes my films. I know which ones you touched your pretty little cunt to.”
Without needing a mirror to confirm, you know your cheeks are burning bright red at this point. He fucking knew the whole time. That’s what you get for having an uncreative username on the sites his films are on. Dammit.
Hating the power imbalance, you gather enough breath to speak up. “Mhm… and you probably jerked off to every single one of my lives, haven’t you?”
“Guilty,” San chuckles, breath hitting your neck. “Made me cum so fuckin’ hard every time.”
You exhale shakily, closing your eyes to try and pull yourself together. So you were right. But… all of them? Was he just exaggerating? Have you seen his username in the chat before? You don’t know whether to feel caught out or embarrassed, but his lips find yours again, and you sigh, content to not overthink it anymore.
The two of you are on equal playing fields again. He knows you’ve watched his videos, and you know he’s seen yours.
One of his hands travels down, narrowly missing your breast on purpose. He squeezes your waist again, your hip, and your thigh before resting there for a moment. You whine into his mouth, feeling how close his hand is to your wet core. Your entire body is on high alert, ready to beg him to touch you. And soon. To encourage him, you let your hand drift as well, finding the outline of his dick through his grey sweatpants easily. He groans, low in his chest, hips canting up to meet your touch, seeking more. You wrap your hand around his length and stroke it once. Slowly.
“Fuck… fuck, baby, let me check you,” he says, turning onto his side to get better reach.
You lay on your back, legs parting for him immediately.
He cups your heat over your panties first, feeling you instantly grind your hips into his hand, trying to feel more. You’re already soaked through. Just like he thought you were. Heat rises on the back of his neck and he bites his lip to keep himself in control. You’re so fucking good for him. So responsive. As a little reward, he rubs his fingers against your clit, making you feel how wet you are there. You whine right away, back naturally arching at the feeling. He alternates between looking at where his hand is, and your reaction to him finally touching you where you so desperately need him.
“Your fans may have to wait a little longer.” He murmurs.
“They’ll wait,” you breathe. And you’re not lying. You’ve yet to break a promise of going live, and something as big as this happening, every single one of them will wait all night if they have to. None of them are going anywhere.
You glance at your laptop, still laying in wait on the other side of your bed. There must be people in the waitroom for the live show already, and you can’t wait to see how many. They’d all probably kill to see San touching you now.
Like you said though, they’ll just have to wait.
San sighs, teasing your center with his fingers. Not quite pressing against it hard enough, but definitely enough to make you whine and debate begging him for more. You keep quiet though, wanting to see what he does more than anything.
He keeps his touches slow, like he’s savoring the feeling. No longer as frantic, you follow his lead, matching the pace with your hand wrapped around his clothed member. Your wrist moves in time with his, pausing for just a couple seconds when you feel his fingers hook into your panties, moving them to the side. You stop breathing, watching him and waiting for what your body is currently screaming for.
Both of you moan at the same time as he finally slips a finger inside of you.
Automatically, your core clamps down on it as hard as it can, not wanting to let him go, but also trying to stop him from reaching any further.
San reconnects your lips to his, slowly hooking his finger upward. Your back arches and you whimper into his mouth, a little embarrassed that you’re this sensitive. As a result, you tighten your grip around him, slowly stroking him through his pants until you feel him shudder. He’s getting harder, gradually growing in size the more you touch him, but he does a good job of holding himself back. Years of practice, no doubt.
When you feel his hips subtly grind upwards, trying to feel more of your touch, you reluctantly let go. Before he can wonder why, your hand dips below his waistband, wanting to touch him properly. You don’t know whether or not you’re surprised to find that he’s not wearing anything underneath his sweatpants. Honestly, now you feel a bit foolish that you put panties on. They’re only going to be taken off anyway.
Just as you remember, his skin is soft and warm under your touch. The head of his cock is slightly wet from precum, and you use your thumb to coat the rest of his length with it. He shudders again, looking down to watch your hand moving underneath his pants.
Even with just one finger inside of you, you can hear how wet you are with any slight movement he makes. Your breaths are heavy and short as a familiar dull warmth begins to spread within your lower stomach. You groan, lifting your hips to try to get him to go deeper, but he just eases them back down.
“You want me, baby?” He whispers, breaths becoming heavier.
“I want you…” you confirm quietly, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence.
He hums in your ear, driving every system in you absolutely crazy. “Such a good girl… so wet for me.”
His words spark another memory from last week. The question he teased you with before and during the shoot. He knows damn well why you’re wet right now.
But then he withdraws completely from you. Your body tenses, trying to keep his finger in to no avail. You can only watch as he raises his hand up to the lights, admiring how it’s glistening from your juices, before placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your hand around his cock pauses, entranced.
San moans as he slowly pulls his finger out of his mouth with a quiet pop. “Tastes just as good as I remember,” he muses.
You glance over at your laptop again, knowing you have to start the live now. Not just because you’re about to be late, but also because you’re seriously about to jump his bones.
“We have to start soon,” you say shakily, pulling your own hand on him away, and pushing yourself up onto your elbows.
San hums in acknowledgment, helping you to sit up the rest of the way. The two of you don’t move or speak for a minute, collecting yourselves enough to start. To act like you weren’t seconds away from foregoing the show entirely and just fucking off camera instead. As usual, you push away any thoughts that that means something deeper. There are no feelings here. Not when it comes to what he does.
Now that you have a chance to really look at him, you notice something. He looks tired. Not quite exhausted, but definitely end-of-the-day tired. He moves slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing what he spends his energy on. A twinge of guilt aches in your chest. You don’t want him to push himself to do this. He should have a real night off.
“Are you okay?” You ask softly, hoping that you’re not insulting him in any way by asking. “We don’t have to do this tonight.” And you mean it.
You have no obligation to go live, and even if you have never broken a promise to go live, you want to put him first. The audience can wait, and so can you. By the next time you two meet up, maybe there’ll be even more people in the waiting room because of the advance notice. You’ll figure it out. You always do.
San hesitates, subconsciously starting to pick at his cuticles again. It’s obvious his professionalism is battling against him, and you bite your lip.
“It’s really okay–” you start to reassure him again, but he shakes his head.
“I’m good,” he says, “I promise. It’s just been a long day.”
He smiles, trying to really sell his words. For a brief moment it works, but only because you love his smile so much. You nod, mostly to yourself. You don’t believe him completely, and know he’s probably just trying to be nice and stick to the plan for tonight. He probably is worried he’ll disappoint you and the viewers if he bails.
You have no idea he’s trying to talk himself out of the same thing you just were moments ago.
He can’t afford to have any feelings towards you. It’s just lust clouding his judgement, that’s all. An intense attraction he’s simply not used to. You really tick off many of the boxes for him; sexually, yes, but especially in terms of personality. That’s what’s most hard to find in this industry. You challenge him, easing into banter like a second language, and you submit to him so effortlessly while still keeping that fire within you. You don’t fawn over him or beg for his attention.
There’s no need anyway. You already have his attention.
And you’ve had it for a while now.
You roll your shoulders back, dragging your laptop over to see if everything is good to go. Just as you expected, there are already five thousand people waiting. The number jumps higher every other second. Even though you expected higher ratings than normal, you can hardly believe it. Just another reminder of the impact of the first collaboration. Also, a good motivator.
You swing your feet off the opposite side of your bed, leaning forward to place your laptop on the stand, angling the camera just right. You and San fill the screen, and the mouse hovers over the ‘Go Live’ button, ready when you are.
Not quite yet.
San moves across the bed so he’s sitting next to you, in front of the camera. The tips of his ears are red, and his face is flushed, but it doesn’t show up too much on screen thanks to the dim, golden lights. His hand lands close to yours on the mattress, mere millimeters from yours. Pretending you don’t notice, you check your appearance on screen, fixing where your hair had gotten a little messed up. You glance at the clock. Four minutes until eleven.
“I should’ve asked you earlier,” you preface, looking down at your lap before making yourself look up, “but, do you have any questions about what to do?”
He tilts his head to one side, confused. “‘What to do’?”
“Yeah, like, interacting and engaging with the audience. I can do most of that, if you’d like.”
“Oh…” He says, taking a moment to think. “I don’t think so? Hongjoong kinda explained it to me when he got your email. I’ll watch you first and go from there, I think.”
You nod. It’s a good plan, one that you probably would’ve suggested to him yourself.
“Any rules for me, Ms. Director?” San asks with a lazy grin.
“Oh absolutely. Five of them, in fact.” You say sarcastically, laughing as you recount the five rules you had to memorize while on the Afterdark set. You can’t exactly harp on them too much. After all, they’re in place for everyone’s benefit and well-being.
He shrugs, “Sue me, I’m used to structure.”
“It’s okay, I’ll guide you through it.” You smirk, patting his hand. It’s only an excuse to touch him again. Nevermind that his hands were all over you, even in you, a short time ago, you’re just so impatient. Especially when it comes to him.
It’s nice to have this moment to laugh together before the live starts. It gets rid of any remaining anxiety or tension. If the camera was on right now, no one would guess that you both had your hands down each other’s pants only minutes ago.
Speaking of, the clock continues to tick down. Only one minute left until you’re due to go live.
“Where do you want me to cum?” San asks you bluntly, casual as can be. Simply collecting information.
Your thighs press together at the mention of it. “Oh, uh– inside. Please.”
Fuck.
You glance up at him as he looks down at his lap. He nods to himself, dusting something off of his pants. You may have given yourself away there by adding ‘please’. He probably has guessed it already, but you kind of love when guys cum inside of you. It heightens the pleasure for you, and you love trying your best to keep their cum inside.
San straightens up, snapping you out of your wandering thoughts, and looks over at the screen. The parallels from last week and the juxtaposition of the changed roles aren’t lost on you. Now he’s the one in unfamiliar territory. He’d listened carefully to Hongjoong’s retelling of what you said in the email. The difference between posting a video and waiting to receive feedback, and going live, receiving the feedback in real time. There are no breaks or retakes. He takes a deep breath.
He looks down at your hand, still lingering on top of his.
Locating your phone in the tangled bedsheets, you hit ‘pause’ on the music. You hope that afterwards you remember to actually manually turn off the speaker so it doesn’t die, but you know you won’t.
You take this moment to slow down as well, calming that inner horny voice. It’ll happen. Right now though, you need to focus on his comfortability and, like you said, guide him through it. You suspect he’ll be a natural – there’s not much to it that he isn’t used to. The absence of a crew or script is really the only major change. Nevertheless, you don’t want to assume, just in case.
You squeeze his hand once, getting his attention.
“Ready?”
San nods, straightening his back and tapping into his professional, camera-ready persona. “Ready.”
The world seems to wait for you as your hand hovers over the trackpad. One miniscule effort, barely a muscle used, and you’ll be live for the world to see. Or, more specifically, six thousand people and rising. You’re not sure why you’re hesitating, you’ve never been quite this nervous to do your show. Then again, your anxiety may not even be related to going live, rather the anticipation of the recreation of last week. Not exactly worry, but acute awareness.
For the first time in a long while, he’s actually kind of nervous. San glances at himself on the screen, making sure his thoughts aren’t visible on his face. Subconsciously, he squeezes your hand back. Like a knee-jerk reaction, that’s all you need to finally press down on the trackpad, hitting the button.
And you’re live.
The chat erupts at the sight of you two in one frame again. Already, some small donations begin to pour in, and you lower the volume of your laptop so the dinging isn’t as loud. As usual, you wait about ten seconds for the notification to go out to anyone who has them on and isn’t in the livestream yet before starting.
“Hi guys,” you say with a smile and a wave. You laugh at everyone’s reactions, catching a glimpse of the comments ‘Mars’ and ‘Puppy’ send.
Six thousand eight hundred people now. Still climbing. Jumping, actually. Seven thousand, eight thousand, nine thousand. Ten.
San follows your lead and waves as well, his other hand finding yours again, just out of frame. His eyes scan the comments, coming in faster than he can process them. You seem at ease, in your element. More so than last week, that’s for certain. You relax right into it, automatically knowing what to expect and how to navigate the live. The only thing different about this show is him.
[user458673]: oh my god oh my god oh my god
[gbgirlie_12]: omfg im literally shaking i cant wait
[fix0nmi]: so fucking beautiful, y/n
[user547391]: san pls say hi to me
“‘I was not expecting this at all’,” you read, nodding in agreement with the comment. “Oh, neither was I.” You laugh to shake out some more nerves and to fill the silence.
San ducks his head to hide his grin before regaining his composure again. A proven professional, once again. “Did you guys like the collab?”
You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, feeling kind of proud that he asked your audience a direct question. Well, they’re not really your audience anymore. Not tonight, anyway. Regardless, he took initiative. He’s a good scene partner, no matter what environment you drop him in.
More comments flood in, detailing everything they liked about the film. Some are very detailed, but they flit by so fast it’s impossible to read every word. The general consensus seems to reflect the current five-star rating the video has.
Not bad for a rookie.
[mars9843]: @ woogoesthere @ fix0nmi @ puppyu.u guess we gotta pay up
[woogoesthere]: gladly
You giggle reading their comments, knowing that without fail that your bank account will be two thousand dollars fuller is definitely enough to brighten your mood. Not counting the donations that continue to be sent in. Apparently San sees that exchange too, because he looks at you with a slightly confused expression. You pat his hand, silently letting him know that you’ll tell him later.
He wishes his heart would stop pounding so much. Honestly, he’s not that nervous, his nerves are settled and his breaths are even, but for some reason his heart has simply not gotten the memo. It’s starting to hurt his chest.
[user401078]: pls start i’m begging
This is something San should’ve clarified with you: how to start. With pornography it’s pretty cut and dry; you start when the director tells you to. Easy. He’s watched your lives before, you’re good at segueing into the main content. Regardless, even if he’s on your turf now, he still has that infamous reputation for being rather bold.
Since you moved closer to him, you don’t have much time to register him closing the distance between you. He wraps an arm lazily around your shoulders, smirking when you turn to look at him in slight surprise.
He raises an eyebrow at you, nodding towards the laptop. “Keep talking, kitten. Don’t mind me,” he says.
That’s your first indication that he’s onto something.
You hesitate before turning back to face the screen. It takes even longer to refocus on the comments, thoughts racing wildly as you feel his other hand ghost up your thigh. The second indication.
“‘I don't know if I wanna be San or Y/N right now’,” you read, giggling. “Let us know at the end!”
Your eyes catch some blunt, bordering rude comments; faceless, nameless accounts you don’t recognise, but you just ignore them for now. You can already see that ‘Woo’ and ‘Puppy’ are on it, kicking people out or blocking their ability to send a message. They’ll take care of them for you.
You’re just about to thank them when San’s hand drifts higher, fingers pushing between the seam of your legs to part them slightly. As a reflex, you swallow hard, halting any sounds of surprise. You can hear him smirk, his breath lightly hitting your ear. He nods towards the laptop again, not needing to repeat himself to get his previous message across.
Keep going.
“There’s so many people here– mmh– th-thank you guys for joining,” You stumble in the middle of your sentence, breath hitching when San leans in to kiss your neck.
Your eyes threaten to close already, but you stubbornly keep them open. For what, other than to just listen to San’s direction, you’re not sure, because you’re definitely not reading the comments as closely anymore.
His lips move slow and soft on your neck, humming when he finds your sweet spot, just under your ear. The hand now between your legs is dangerously close to your center. When he nips at your neck, you make a small noise, tilting your head further to the side to give him easier access.
[user623490]: so hot
[only1fan]: i’d kill to be san rn 😭
[fix0nmi]: looking so pretty bbg
The last comment makes your face heat up. It’s probably so obvious how flustered you are, and if anyone’s going to catch it, it’s ‘Fix’.
“‘San, please fuck her already’,” you read out. “Yeah, San. I think you sh-should listen to them.”
San, however, promptly ignores you and the comment. His hand abruptly moves from between your legs to sneak under your shirt, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers. You can’t hold back a whine from the sensation, and you bite your lip to keep any more at bay. His hand gropes you rough and slow, hard squeezes that he lets linger on your skin before he repeats the pattern. He bites your neck as his thumb circles around your nipple, humming as you gasp.
The screen seems to get further and further away as your head swims from the sensations. He licks a lazy stripe up your neck, just under your jaw, distracting you from where his hand is slowly returning to. Legs parted for him already, it’s all too easy for his hand to slot between them, just barely touching your center. Your breath hitches again, looking down to watch him tease you.
His fingers press into your inner thigh, so close to where you want him instead. You bite your lip, placing your hand on his leg if not just to ground yourself. You can feel him smirk against your skin.
The first touch to your core is electrifying.
A bolt of lightning races through you, warming your stomach and turning your thoughts into static. His touch is bold, firm. And he doesn’t wait around once he feels how wet you are through the thin lace; he skilfully moves your panties aside and sinks two fingers deep into your heat.
Your eyelids immediately drop halfway, mouth parted as your body struggles to get over the shock of the much needed intrusion. You missed how he touches you, like he somehow already knows your body inside and out. Like he’s committed it to memory since last you saw him.
He pulls away, but only just to begin to coax your shirt off of you. His hands glide up your body, gathering the fabric as he pushes it upwards, sneaking in a handful of your breasts on the way. You lift your arms up to help him, and your shirt is discarded somewhere onto the bedroom floor. You don’t look at the screen anymore. Only at him.
San tugs at your bottoms next, and you quickly get rid of them, sitting there in nothing but your dampening panties, waiting for him. He hums, admiring the sight in front of him and further ignoring the chat. You look so ready for him, so eager to be good for him and to put on a good show for your fans and his.
He almost wants to be nice. Almost.
His hands frame your face and tilt it so you’re looking up at him.
“I’m not gonna fuck you yet,” he murmurs, and you clench your thighs together at the mere mention of it happening again. And soon. He’s so blunt sometimes, it kills you. “I brought something for you first.”
You tense up, having a sense of what it may be.
He gets out of your bed, circling around to the foot of it where he had deposited his backpack earlier. You scoot back against your pillows, watching him a little nervously. After digging around in it, he looks up at you once he finds whatever he’s looking for.
“Can you close your eyes for me, kitten?”
Fuck. The dramatic irony of it all. You obey of course, plunging yourself into the dark and the unknown. You can hear him straighten up, slowly walking back around the bed and climbing onto it again. The bed dips right by your leg. The audience must be going absolutely crazy, if the sounds of donations are anything to go by. He sets something down near your foot, but leans over you. Gathering your wrists above your head, something soft loops around them, tying them together. You exhale shakily, anticipating and nervous. He doesn’t miss how your thighs are practically glued together, clenching every so often.
You almost jolt when you feel his lips on your body again, making his way down from your neck to your hipbone. The lower he gets, the heavier your breaths become. Every press of his lips is intentional, unhurried. His breath tickles your stomach. You whimper when his tongue licks your hipbone, hips involuntarily hitching upwards for more.
“San…” you whisper, hoping he hears your plea within his name.
Oh, he hears it.
Whatever he placed by your foot is picked up again, and he wordlessly shows it to the camera. You so badly want to open your eyes and see what it is, what he has planned. But you’ll find out soon enough.
You feel him kneel between your legs, letting you rest the one farthest from the camera around his waist. The other he keeps flat against the mattress, so your audience can see everything. Everything slows and quiets. With bated breath, all you can do is wait.
One of his hands trails up your thigh, pressing down on your hip, keeping you still. As if you’re going anywhere. Twelve thousand people watch as he hovers a vibrator mere centimeters from your clit. Blissfully unaware, you’re currently trying your best to not be impatient, keeping yourself quiet and still.
A choked gasp from you cuts through the sudden buzzing sound in the room. A loud moan of his name when it finally presses against your clit is music to San’s ears. He pushes your hips back down flat when you try to tilt them upwards.
“Look at me, baby. Eyes open.”
It’s difficult, but you manage to open your eyes at least enough to see him. It takes even longer for your vision to focus, locking in on the sight of San kneeling before you, watching you hungrily as the low hum of the toy fills the room. It’s pink and long, maybe an inch or so longer than San, flexible and soft. There’s no mistaking what it’s shaped like, either.
“Good girl,” he whispers, dragging the head of the toy up and down your dripping center, collecting your arousal. As he continues to do that, he looks over at the laptop.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says, and if you weren’t busy trying to subtly grind up into the vibrator with every pass, maybe you’d be more surprised by how easily he’s taken control of your show. “Everytime someone donates three hundred dollars, I’ll increase the speed.”
Suddenly, the chat comes alive again.
‘Mars’ is the first to donate, followed closely by ‘Woo’. Of course they wouldn’t hesitate. The comments are divided into people that encourage and beg others to donate, and those that are throwing their money at you. Realistically, the settings on the toy only go up so high, but San is good at pacing it. Additionally, not everyone is donating the requested amount, either.
You never thought you’d ever consider trying to beg your viewers to stop donating. But here you are, and they’re merciless tonight. Just as hungry for San to wreck you as you are. Morbidly curious as to how far he’ll push you, wanting a front row seat to your unraveling.
[puppyu.u] has donated $300
[wifey0707] has donated $50
[fix0nmi] has donated $300
[videoking] has donated $300
[woogoesthere] has donated $300
[mars9843] has donated $300
The toy speeds up higher and higher, pressing harder against your clit. The buzzing gets incrementally louder, and so do your moans and cries. It’s harder to keep your legs still, but his palm is consistent and firm against your hip. You’re not going anywhere.
“Say ‘thank you’ to your fans, kitten,” San instructs, glancing at your laptop screen again.
Somewhere in your hazy, frantic mind, you’re able to snap back into character long enough to obey him.
“Thank you,” you cry, nails digging into your palms. “F-feels so fucking good, thank y-you.”
You’re not really thanking them though. Not completely. You address the ever-growing audience, but you keep your eyes on the man above you. The one who you want to impress and be good for more than anything else. It doesn’t go unnoticed.
San’s previously stern, concentrated expression, softens just noticeably enough for you to catch.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, barely audible. As if he’s only saying it to himself.
Your casual, throwaway statement of ‘bring whatever you want’ in your email to Hongjoong comes back to bite you in the ass. Hard.
San’s gaze drifts back to the chat, just to see what everyone’s saying. He doesn’t want to look away from you for too long. Your reactions are more important to him than what a bunch of horny strangers have to say.
[puppyu.u]: fuck pls make her cum soon
[woogoesthere]: ^^^ shes so fuckign pretty when she cums
‘Woo’ is right. You are. But he won’t make you cum just yet. As if you read his mind, you whine and arch your back, silently begging him for more.
San tilts his head. “Aw, I know, baby, I know. Feels so good on your cute little clit, doesn’t it?”
“Pl-please, please sir…”
“I’m right here. Tell me what you want.” Tell them.
“Want–” you, your brain finishes, “want more… please, sir.”
You whine a mixture of his name, pleas, and expletives. The vibrations and the pleasure only grow stronger as he slips the phallic shaped head of the vibrator into your pussy. You’re trying your very best to not be too loud, you have neighbors after all. But who can blame you? Even if someone does come knock on your door, you highly doubt you’ll stop everything to go answer it.
San leans forward, closer to your face, wanting to see every reaction up close. He doesn’t want to miss anything. Your lips are a bit dry from breathing through your mouth, and your legs are shaking around him.
“Wish it were me instead?” He asks, already knowing the answer.
“Y-yes,” you stammer.
He looks down between you. His wrist slowly twists, coaxing the toy deeper into you. “‘Yes’, what?”
“Yes sir,” you correct quickly. “Fuck, yes sir.”
He hums, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I know, kitten,” he says, dragging the toy out an inch before pushing it deeper than before. “Just let me play with you a little longer.”
You start to whine again, but he shuts you up by closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. Instead, you moan into his mouth, happy to feel more of his weight on you and the warmth of his skin. He’s still dressed, though you hope that will change soon.
Nearly fully enveloped in your core, San takes his time to drag it in and out of you. The strong vibrations rattle you from the inside out, stirring the low heat in your stomach to a boiling point. You have to break the kiss to catch your breath, cheek to cheek with him.
“Pl– San, please, can I– please…” Everything you say is disjointed and breathy, unable to speak much more coherently than that.
He nips your neck, kissing a spot he marked up previously. A lovely bruise already begins to bloom across your skin. He angles the toy slightly more upward and you nearly knock your head into his. He’s quick to push you back down, keeping that hand firm on your hip. Your bound hands come down, reaching for his wrist to push him away, but he ignores you.
“Don’t cum until I say so, kitten,” he orders. His tone is serious. He means it.
Brief, blurry visions of what he does during his punishments with his costars – if needed – run through your mind. It’s enough to not make you want to disobey his order, but you don’t know if you’re physically able to follow through. This has to be cheating. In some way or another. Maybe he wants you to fail.
It’s definitely a possibility, especially with him. He brought this toy for a reason, knowing full well he could get you to this desperate point just as easily with his own hands. Admittedly, you’re a little scared to find out the reason. You have a feeling that because last time was all about overstimulation, this time will be about edging and denial.
You hope you’re wrong.
Especially as your orgasm builds and builds, no matter how hard you try to suppress it.
San can feel how tight you’re getting around the toy whenever he pushes it back in, the resistance growing little by little. He straightens up to kneel over you again, fixated on you and you alone.
Force of habit, you look to your left, checking the screen to make sure that you’re both fully in frame.
“Keep your eyes on me, kitten.” He says, voice low, eyes never leaving your body. “Only on me.”
Shit. You look back up at him, hoping you’re still in the clear as far as not finding out what it’s like to receive a Choi San punishment firsthand. He quickens the pace of the toy, palm resting on the base of it to put forth more effort into shoving it forward.
“San,” you warn, voice breaking.
He ignores you, captivated by the loud, wet squelching sounds your pussy has begun to make every time the toy slides inside of it. He knows he’s not being very fair. Actually, he’d love nothing more than to just spend the next hour making you cum over and over until you beg him to stop. It's a morbid curiosity that keeps him from giving you permission. An inner desire to see how long you can hold on just because he told you to. Information to file away for later. Specifically when he’s in his room at night, biting the hem of his shirt as he strokes his cock to the thought.
Your legs tighten around his waist, using him to try and push yourself away from the toy so it doesn’t reach as deep. It’s scrambling your thoughts as you try to hold yourself together.
“San!” You exclaim, hurtling towards a high you don’t want to reach.
He shushes you, pushing your legs back down with his free hand. “Shh, just ten more seconds, baby. Hold it for ten more seconds. You can do it.”
Tears pool in your eyes, but you nod anyway. Your palms sting as your nails dig into them.
“Ten… nine… eight…” he counts, dragging the toy halfway out before shoving it back into you.
[puppyu.u]: oh my god
[user200985]: i hope she fails lmaooo
“Seven… six… five…” Halfway there.
The angle makes the toy dig right into your g-spot every time. Your ears ring with the monumental effort you’re putting forward. Throat constricted by limited air intake, you inwardly swear and curse, praying that you’ll be able to get past ‘one’.
But it’s all too easy. San takes his free hand, resting on your leg, and places it just above your pubic bone. His thumb rubs your clit slowly. Maddeningly. Again, your legs attempt to close, but are blocked by his body. A garbled cry rips itself from your throat.
“Four… three… two…” So fucking close.
You can’t hold it, you can’t.
But you don’t get to make that decision. On the count of ‘one’, he rips everything away from you. His breathing is steady as he watches you come to terms with what he just did. Tears escape down your cheeks, and all you want is to bring your wrists down to cover your face. Every vein feels like a livewire. You’re frozen where you are, sobbing uncontrollably as you feel what would’ve been quite a powerful orgasm recede back.
Discarding the toy by his side, he leans over you again, pressing a brief but deep kiss onto your lips. It almost makes up for the ruined orgasm. Almost. His face keeps that stony indifference as he pulls back, that concentration he’s famous for in scenes like this.
Inside, he’s thrilled.
Not to mention proud, as well. He knew you could do it, even if you didn’t think so yourself. It almost makes him feral to see you like this, dangling on the edge of pleasure that only he can provide, but he’s a good actor. Nothing is given away on his face. He busies himself by untying your hands, easing them back down to rest by your side. Instead of keeping them there though, you wrap your arms around yourself in a self-hug.
Instantly, his protective side kicks in.
He ducks down, making you look at him. One of his hands cautiously moves some hair out of your face and you lean into his palm. A good sign. You’re really fine, you just felt so empty so abruptly it was like whiplash. You haven’t been edged by someone in quite a long time. And not ever like this.
You nod once, letting him know you’re okay, just calming down. He rests his forehead against yours, letting you ground yourself with the pressure there.
“Such a good girl, kitten,” he whispers, kissing your nose.
San stays close until your breaths return to normal. Full, deep ones that are no longer interrupted by whines. Your eyes flutter open again, a little self-conscious about how long you took to calm down after being edged once. You tilt your head up to kiss the corner of his mouth, and he grins.
“She’s alive,” he says, shoulders hunching when you lazily hit his arm.
You don’t say anything back verbally, just a small noise as you cling to him. It’s obvious you want him to keep going, to touch you again, bring you back to the edge and actually push you over it this time. Believe him, San does too. Not only did he deny you of release, he denied himself the joy of watching it wrack through you. But if he’s going to make you cum, it’ll be by his own doing, not solely some toy’s.
Deeming you okay to continue, San helps you prop yourself up against your pillows, which also helps get rid of the ringing in your ears. You take a moment to rest, promising yourself to check in on everyone in the chat in a moment.
San beats you to it, just curious to see what the viewers are saying. The utter depravity in real time catches him a bit off guard.
[user334763]: I’d pay big money to see him make her black out
[hot4hottt]: fuck this slut san!!!!!!
[xdcfcdxjkabt]: ughhhh wish my girlfriend looked like you 😔
[dommmm2527]: make the bitch cry
[useher2450]: fucking whore
His nose scrunches a bit the more he reads. You’d defended your viewers, saying that the majority of them were nice and respectful. Honest, but still respectful. These must be the new batch of viewers that are coming from his side of the industry. Granted, he sees a couple of messages that are clearly from your longtime fans, being more encouraging. And polite. Just like you said they are. Two admin users are busy kicking the worst offenders out or revoking their chat privileges, however, the volume of the messages the new fans are sending are beginning to oversaturate the chat.
San makes his mind up in less than a second. He leans over, closer to the laptop, making all the women viewers go absolutely crazy. He smiles, pretending it’s directed towards their comments and compliments, but it’s all a distraction. The mouse finds the ‘Off’ button on the screen and his smile remains as he disables the chat entirely for non-subscribers.
If they want to talk, they’ll have to let their money speak for them instead.
When you open your eyes, before you can turn to look at your laptop, San blocks your view. His lips return to yours, kissing you hard enough to make you dizzy all over again. You melt into him again, hips subtly tilting upwards to search for something to grind against. The search yields great results, finding the impressive outline of his cock through his pants. He groans into your mouth when you deliberately grind against it, one of your hands coming down to rest on his waist, just shy of dipping underneath the waistband. His skin is warm under your touch, and you press your palm down a little harder, eventually rubbing his lower back underneath his shirt. You can feel the lean muscles in his back under soft skin, and you wish he’d take his clothes off sooner rather than later.
To kickstart that wish, you pull at his shirt, blatantly letting him know exactly what you want. You watch greedily as he pulls away from you just enough to tug his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the floor. At the sight of him, you almost sigh in relief. In the dim, golden light of your room, his tan skin is radiant. The definition of his abs and chest make you want to reach out and touch, if not just to ensure that he is in fact real. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes trained on his face, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.
Instead of a verbal hint, San slowly slots his knee between your legs, pressing it against your center. You whimper, feeling a shock go up your spine at the initial contact.
Your hand migrates down again. This time, it dips under his waistband, wrapping around his hardened cock and stroking it once. His breath stutters against your cheek, and you can feel him pulse under your touch. Groaning, now he’s the one grinding into your touch, wanting more.
You have half a mind to work him up, only to take it away as well. But something tells you he’s expecting that.
What you do though, is sit up fully, kissing his neck before he can push you back down. One of his hands presses into your back, and he closes his eyes, sighing deeply. You’re quite content to just spend the next hour making out with him. Unfortunately, you know your audience will be expecting more than just that.
Maybe off camera…
You scrunch your nose, as if that will make the thought go away. Feeling you do so, San pulls away just enough to make sure you’re alright. Before he can say anything, you hook your thumbs into the lace of your panties and drag them off. A rush of cold air against your core makes you shiver, but you hide it well. Resting your hands back on his shoulders, you swallow hard to ensure your voice doesn’t break again.
“Lay down,” you whisper, already moving over to give him room in the center of the bed.
Thankfully, he doesn’t fight you on it, following your direction right away. He rests against the headboard, eyes fixed onto yours. You shift as well, on your knees, turning to face him. Leaning down, you begin to plant slow kisses to his collarbone, down the center of his chest; mirroring what he did to you earlier. You make sure to arch your back for the audience’s viewing pleasure, giving them a pretty sideview. San’s head tilts back, breathing deeply. He never takes his eyes off of you. One of his hands twitches like he’s waiting to do something with it at the right time. As you kiss his stomach, you can feel how tense he is. When you start to move lower, he places his hand on the back to your head to stop you from going any further.
You blink up at him, wondering why he doesn’t want you to go down on him. Actually, he does. Oh god, he does. He just doesn’t quite know how to tell you the shoot today was kind of centered around that. If you were to put your mouth on him, he may just combust. He also doesn’t want you to think that you’re hurting him, or – god forbid – bad at it. From experience, he knows that isn’t true.
To ease any worry, he smiles at you, guiding you back up to kiss him once more.
“Don’t wanna wait,” he whispers, making up a believable excuse. “Need to be inside you now, baby.”
You don’t move immediately, still searching him to see if he’s lying. Your next movements are slow. Less confident, more cautionary. He raises his hips to help you take his pants off, his cock laying against his stomach. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the spamming chat. Every user name is highlighted blue, indicating that it’s only your subscribers commenting.
Huh.
Choosing to not dwell on or investigate it further for the time being, you refocus on the man currently underneath you. Last time you saw him like this was a week ago. A shiver runs down your back. You wrap a hand around his cock once more, leaning forward to kiss him as you position yourself above it. He guides you with both hands resting on your hips, ready to help you sink down onto him. With one last groan from him into your mouth, you waste no more time.
The blunt pressure of the tip of his cock pressing against you already has you clenching. Luckily, you’re wet enough for there to be little resistance. The head slips inside somewhat easily, and both of you gasp at the same time. San tilts his head back again, eyes fluttering shut. His hands tighten for a moment or two before relaxing again, but there’s a constant pressure from his fingertips.
He makes a quiet, choked sound as you slowly sink down. Inch by inch, until you’re fully impaled by it. You shudder involuntarily, biting your lip to keep relatively quiet. The tears you shed earlier resurface in your eyes once again at the joy of being filled by him once again. Neither of you even have to move for it to feel good.
Like before, it just feels right.
And he voices that sentiment, fighting to continue to breathe normally. “Fuckin’ made for me, kitten. Aren’t you?”
You could sing right now. The praise lights up every part of your brain, and makes you eager to prove him right. You rock forward, loving how you can feel him twitching inside of you. He’s so hard, so big. Every inch of his length is pressed against your inner walls, and you feel him with every miniscule moment.
His hands lift you up an inch or two, encouraging you to start moving. You drop back down fast, sparks popping in your stomach. Gradually increasing the pace, you’re riding him just like you were last week. The sounds are sinful. Unmistakable lust in every moan, and whimper of his name. The evidence of your arousal coats his lower stomach and thighs, not that he minds very much.
You try hard to breathe through your nose, not wanting your throat and mouth to get dry, but the exertion makes it quite hard. It’s hard to breathe normally anyway. Especially when San starts to meet you in the middle, rolling his hips upwards whenever you sink back down onto him. Your hands press against his chest and shoulder, just to ground yourself a bit. You’re motivated to work harder for him, do all the work.
It’s just a tad difficult because of how quickly your previous would-be orgasm rebuilds itself.
Your body latches onto this newfound pleasure and expedites you towards the edge before it can be snatched away again. It doesn’t help that whenever you let yourself drop a little harder than before, you can hear quiet whimpers from him. Though your thighs beg for a break, you ignore them entirely, doubling down instead.
San watches you through half-lidded eyes and shuddering breaths. One of his hands strays to your lower back, loving how you automatically arch a little for him once you feel his touch there. Because of how much he's already done today, he hates to admit that he’s already close. Not just that, but he’s so sensitive. A scene partner earlier today had really given him a taste of his own overstimulation medicine, doing everything in her power to keep him coming. The shoot had gone well, he thinks. There’s just one problem that he won’t admit to anyone, including himself.
Every time he had closed his eyes, he envisioned it was you instead.
It takes monumental willpower and self-control to not fall apart underneath you right now. Luckily though, he knows that you’re close. He uses his hands to pull you down, dragging you back and forth on his cock instead, and rubbing your clit. Your nails dig into his skin, but he doesn’t mind. He barely notices. Honestly, he’s too busy trying to ignore how fucking perfect you sound moaning his name.
Every sound you make only gets better as San sits up and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. You push lazily against his shoulders, whining from every stimulation.
Until he takes it away again.
He holds your hips down, making it difficult for you to move anymore, and you cry louder than before. With every shiver through your body, and the uncontrollable clenching of your pussy around him, San has to grit his teeth and really fight against his instincts to cum inside of you here and now.
Sooner rather than later, hopefully.
Removing his mouth from your breast, he places a kiss in the center of your chest, just below your throat. You look down at him, still trying to stop shaking, and rest your forehead against his for a moment. Maybe a minute. San rubs your thighs, knowing they must be sore by now.
“San…” you whimper in a pitched voice, wound tight by the second denial. You rest your forehead against his shoulder, forcing your lungs to breathe normally again.
He hums quietly. “Yes, kitten?”
Your words are stuck. Caught between wanting to beg him to let you cum, and wanting him to just keep you in his arms like this. Either one works. Both, too. But you just can’t articulate it. The constant pinging of donations in the background almost lulls you.
San’s hands move to your back, supporting your body as he manoeuvres you so you’re laying down beneath him. Your head spins a little, so you close your eyes until the dizziness goes away. While you try to straighten yourself out, he pulls out of you. You only just realize you still haven’t answered him. Luckily, he’s not really waiting for an answer. He understands.
Hovering over you, he kisses your cheek once before finding your lips again. His hand moves down between you, gently coaxing two of his fingers back into your core. When your breath hitches at the intrusion, he kisses you deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You whine against him, so overly sensitive to any kind of stimulation now.
“Need me, baby?” He murmurs, knowing damn well that you do.
You nod quickly, “Y-yes, sir, I need you, I want it, please–”
San cuts off your rambling with another kiss, effectively shutting you up. You can’t say that you mind. It blanks out your mind, just letting you focus on the feeling of him instead of thinking too much. So slowly that you almost don’t even register it, he withdraws his hand, replacing it with his cock. You feel the heaviness of it press against your clit first as he rubs his length up and down your folds, collecting your arousal from there.
“Gonna let your fans see how well I fuck you?”
Again, you nod in response, blinking up at him as his words sink in. He always just knows what to say to make you dumb for him. Slowly, he sinks back into your heat again, stopping halfway. Just to make you crazy.
To distract himself from the feeling of you for a moment, San glances over at your laptop. The two of you are racking in new viewers by the second, and the comments come faster than he can read them. The donations are even faster than before, and in higher individual amounts at a time. Long gone are the days where you’d get a mere five dollar tip, while the big spenders may occasionally send you fifteen. Rarer were the twenty dollar donations. Now, the number in the corner grows and jumps almost every other second.
[mars9843]: god baby you look so good
[user764590] has donated $150
[fix0nmi]: bro pls make her cum soon i cant edge myself again
[woogoesthere]: i busted ten minutes ago but tbh i’m ready to go again 😭
[mars9843] has donated $200
[puppyu.u]: m so fuckign hard rn goddddd
San recognizes the usernames from your lives that he’s seen before. It’s intriguing that there are people somewhere out there in the world that are edging themselves right alongside you both. In real time. If he had more energy, he’d fully take advantage of that. He’d torture everyone. He inhales deeply, trying to will his infamous stamina to kick in.
You lift your head up to kiss his neck, trying to bring his attention back to you. It’s not a difficult task. He refocuses quickly, like he never looked away from you in the first place. To make up for the lost last few seconds, he grinds into you again, humming as you moan in his ear. He bites his lip, containing himself for now. He can feel himself slipping, wanting to just throw all cares aside and fuck you until he comes inside of you. But he won’t. Not yet, and not before he makes you cum first. Maybe two or three times, actually.
He’s tired of waiting to feel the absolute heaven of you coming around his cock. Seven days is too damn long. Even though he’s had about twelve partners since last Friday, he remembers exactly how fucking good you felt specifically.
“Get on your stomach, kitten,” he says, pulling out a little quicker than he means to.
The sudden loss of him is like pouring cold water over you, snapping you into action in order to get warm again. You do as you’re told, but you’re almost shy in front of the camera as you look up into it. The small green dot next to the laptop camera is rather daunting as it stares down at you. The amount of people watching makes your eyes widen a little. This is your biggest audience yet. You wonder how many will stay, stick around for your next live where it’ll only be you, by yourself with your toys again. The sudden shyness slowly morphs into motivation, wanting to make all the new viewers want to stay, want to subscribe to you for more.
You stretch your arms out in front of you, gripping the crumpled sheets, and you arch your back, staring into the camera with doe eyes. For added measure, you bite your lip, pretending that you have no idea what San is doing behind you, even though you heard him spit onto his fingers just a second ago. He doesn’t necessarily need to do that, you’re definitely wet enough, but he spreads it up and down his shaft to make it slide back in even easier.
“Wait, they can’t see you,” you tell him, noticing that he’s cut off onscreen from the chest up.
You’re just about to crawl forward a bit to adjust your laptop so it’s tilting a little more upwards, but that’s when he holds your hips and sinks deep into you once more. Every thought remaining in your head vanishes. Your back arches even more, pushing yourself back towards him to try and get him even deeper. One of his hands squeezes your hip before withdrawing to smack your ass. You jolt, not expecting it, and whine at the sting. He massages the area as he gradually starts to thrust into you.
He leans down so his mouth is right next to your ear, “No one wants to see me, baby. You’re the star.”
Before you can even fully process what he said, he slams into you hard. Whatever response you were about to give to him is replaced by a surprised shriek, and your mouth hangs open until you remember to close it again. As if proving his point, once again, every number skyrockets. Viewer count, donation, comments, new subscribers. It’s obvious to you now – they like you loud.
And so does San.
“Oh, that’s it,” he purrs, fucking into you with a more set rhythm and pace, “let me hear you, kitten. Let everyone hear how good I’m making you feel.”
As per his request, seventeen thousand people hear just how good he’s making you feel. You don’t try to hide or quiet any more noises, and in the back of your mind, you’re already scripting the awkward apology that you’ll have to give to your neighbors tomorrow morning. The sound of skin against skin, and his hips colliding against your ass only add to the noise and the sin of it all. You can feel your arousal dripping down your inner thighs. What an introduction to the neighborhood. You only quiet yourself for a couple of seconds, just to see if someone has started banging a broom against their ceiling or floor yet.
A particularly hard thrust followed by another slap on your ass makes you shriek again, but half of it gets muffled by the sheets as your elbows buckle underneath you. It reminds you of last week, when one of the Afterdark production crew ripped the sheets away from you so you could be heard clearer.
You push back on him, causing the head of his cock to brush against your cervix and all the air in your lungs is suddenly stolen from you. He’s so fucking deep. He feels so fucking good.
And you tell him exactly that.
“I know, baby,” he says, delivering another smack to the side of your ass. “Needed to be fucked like this again?”
“Yes!” You cry out, unashamedly.
He hums, thrusts turning sharper, more controlled and powerful in lieu of speed. His eyes are glued to the laptop screen, hungrily watching your fucked out expression for everybody to see.
Driven, and barely missing a beat, he locates the vibrator again. Past your whines and moans, you don’t hear it turn on again. You don’t even remember its existence until he presses it against your clit again. This time, you have to bury your face in the sheets to muffle your scream. It’s not a completely soundproof method, but hopefully it helps a little.
San groans behind you, hips stuttering momentarily as your body clenches around his cock hard. So tight, he thinks for a second that you’re coming. To make matters worse for you, he is able to massage the toy in slow circles on your clit.
“San–” you choke, barely breathing. “Please, San, please let me cum this time, ‘m so fucking c-close, please…”
He hums like he’s pitying you while he quickens the pace of his thrusts again. You’re pretty sure by now the whole apartment building knows his first name. Part of you wonders if someone in said apartment building is one of the twenty thousand people currently watching. It’s entirely possible.
The thought almost thrills you. Maybe you do like the voyeurism of it all. Obviously, you enjoy an audience.
You whine his name again, seriously getting to the point where you won’t be able to stop your orgasm once it starts. Even if he pulls away, you think you’ll cum anyway. The toy presses harder, vibrations suddenly louder than before. In your feral mind, you wish he would slip the toy in next to his cock. That would make you cum in seconds. But you’ve never done that before, and you haven’t discussed it with him beforehand, so you know he probably wouldn’t even if you asked him to. Not while you’re live, at least.
“Mm, okay, kitten. Cum for me…let me hear you.”
But it’s never that easy with him, is it?
At first, your body sings at his permission, knowing that he’s finally going to let you take what you want. A reward you’ve been chasing since the start of all of this. San, unfortunately, times it perfectly. Just as he feels your pussy start to contract and clench around him, and right when he hears your breathing stop, he pulls out. He keeps the vibrator on your clit, forcing you to cum that way instead.
You almost collapse, crying and babbling from the unexpected loss of him. Your orgasm crashes into you but it feels hollow. He gave you what you wanted, but always on his terms. Damn, he’s good at winding you up. You struggle to breathe as your body shakes, hips grinding into the toy to try and make up for the emptiness inside of your core. Frustrated tears dampen the sheets below you.
San takes the toy away next, just as your clit is starting to throb and hurt from the overstimulation of it. He sets it down somewhere, but you don’t really care to find out where exactly. He actually sets it a little too far off to the side, and it falls to the floor with a dull thud.
Once the shock fades, all you want is to curl into a ball and cry, and beg him to let you cum on his cock instead. You hope ‘Woo’ is fighting for your behalf in the comments.
What you don’t realize is how close San stayed to you. You shift a little, easing a muscle in your shoulder, and you feel the tip of his cock brush against your pussy again. He pushes back into you without warning and your fingers curl into the sheets, already holding on them for dear life again.
Instead of moving right away, San lets your body get used to his again. He leans down, kissing between your shoulderblades, and almost halfway down your spine. You can feel how much he’s throbbing inside of you, occasionally twitching, ready to cum as well.
“So pretty,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder.
As he speaks, he slowly pulls halfway out, and you brace yourself for whatever he may do next. But he just slows everything down, pushing back inside until his hips are pressed against your ass, filling you completely with his length. When he repeats the motion, it’s just as slow and controlled as before. He knows how sensitive you must be, every nerve frayed and alert. Unlike his other costars who he may have just left like this, wanting more, he fully plans for you to cum on his cock this time. Mainly because he also really wants to cum inside of you now.
You whimper as you feel one of San’s hands curl around your throat, tilting your head up so you’re looking directly into the laptop camera. The weight and warmth of his body against your back offers only a shred of comfort. A small squeak escapes you as he presses himself against you, cock fully sheathed inside once more. You can feel him everywhere.
“Look at them while I fuck you, kitten,” he says, his voice somewhere close to your ear.
You blink up into the camera like the audience can help you. They can’t. Most of them probably wouldn’t even if you paid them. A couple of tears fall from your eyes, and the activity on the screen nearly explodes. The image of you, glossy eyed, and fucked out, is enough to earn you at least half a year’s worth of rent.
The first couple grinds into you are torturously pleasurable. You feel like you’re losing your mind. One of your hands blindly reaches back to press against his thigh, as if that will lessen the stimulation in some way. He doesn’t swat it away, he simply lets it be, ignoring it as he starts to get back into his normal pace.
The dull heat in your lower stomach burns brighter and brighter the more he fucks into you. The angle is different than before, and you know it’s the one he used last week to get you to squirt. You inhale shakily, breathing deep while you still can.
This time is different, though. Now he’s chasing his own high, as well as chasing the feeling of you coming around him. Something he’s fisted his cock to the memory of for the past seven days. You’re still so tight, so wet for him, just like you were last week. He wants to reward you for this, even though it’s just how you are naturally. Sure, he enjoys semi-torturing you like this, riling you up so you beg for him in the rawest form of desperation, but if last week taught him anything, it’s that he enjoys blissing you out even more. You’ve been so good for him tonight. Taking everything without question or complaint.
“You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, breath stuttering when you involuntarily clench around him, his words affecting you immediately. “Fuck… fuck, baby. So fucking good for me. Keep looking at them, baby. Let them see how pretty you are like this.”
Without the help of his hand around your throat, you doubt you’d be able to hold your head up by yourself. Your body feels like jelly, everything on autopilot. You can’t control the noises you make anymore. Every time his cock hits that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, a small squeal is forced out of you. A thin line of drool leaks from your mouth, dripping onto San’s fingers. Not that he minds. He’s watching you in the screen, and it’s only making him fuck you harder. Faster.
He mumbles something about how cute you are under his breath, and you whine. You can’t process anything quickly anymore. Only how good he’s making you feel. Every press of his cock against that spot deep inside you hurtles you closer and closer to that familiar edge. All you can think of is him. Even though your body pleads for mercy and rest, you can’t bear the thought of him stopping, of all of this pleasure going away now that he’s finally letting you have it again.
Through blurred vision, you can see your regular viewers encouraging you and complimenting you in the comments.
[woogoesthere]: fffuckign hell baby u look so good
[puppyu.u]: so prettyfor us sweetie
[fix0nmi]: gna mmake me cum again fukc
[puppyu.u] has donated $500
[mars9843]: keep takign hm babygirl
All the typos are clear signs they’re typing one-handed. The insinuation goes straight to your ego, as well as your core, feeding the steadily building fire there.
You mean to thank ‘Puppy’ for his generous donation, but all that comes out is a whine of his username. Somewhere in the world, you can almost hear ‘Puppy’ coming hard into his hand. Because of this, it seems that everyone thinks that if they donate the same amount, you’ll moan their username too. A sudden influx of five hundred dollar tips floods the screen.
Far from your focus, you can hear a special notification going off on your laptop, signalling to you that you’ve reached twenty thousand dollars in donations – your highest earning for just one show ever.
As if you needed more incentive to keep going.
“W-wanna cum,” you tell San, hoping he can understand your mumbling. “Please, sir, I-I wa– wanna cum on your cock.”
San groans, his nails digging into your waist. He could be mean again, make you beg your audience for permission, make you beg him. But his greed takes over. Seven days is a long time to spend fantasizing; he’s done waiting for the real thing.
“San–! Sir, please, please, ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, barely enunciating any of your words.
He straightens up and plants a foot on the bed, using it as leverage to pound into you harder, more precisely. He can feel his dick hitting that spot deep inside of you, and he watches the way your pussy weeps around him. Stuffed to the brim with every inch of his length, and still crying for more.
You scream at the force of his cock hitting your cervix, bullying your poor body from the inside out, forcing you to feel every spike of pleasure that it causes. A mixture of pleas and his name fall from your lips, getting lost in the tangled sheets below you.
“Cum for me, baby,” San finally says through panting breaths. “Show everyone how pretty you look coming all over my cock.”
You feel like you’re imploding. Everything collapses into itself as your high hits you from all angles. His hands are the only thing keeping you up, the rest of your body melting into the mattress. Your calves cramp as your toes curl, every muscle locking up while your orgasm peaks. Above all else, you could cry tears of joy that he doesn’t pull away this time. In fact, he makes sure every inch of him is buried inside of you, helping you ride it out.
Through your haze and high-pitched moans, you hear him whimpering behind you, still pulsing inside of you and chasing his own high.
“Tell them where you begged me to cum,” he orders. Damn, he’s good. “Tell them, kitten.”
You whine, suddenly shy as you address the audience.
“I-inside. I want him to cum inside.”
Blindly, you reach behind you with your waning energy, finding his hand and pulling it up towards you. Now leaning over you again, you manage to push yourself up, turning your head enough to try and kiss him. He meets you halfway, kissing you for a brief moment before resting his forehead against yours, eyes screwed shut as he gets closer and closer. All the tiredness that came from his day today suddenly disappears. He only has one goal in mind. One thought.
Wanting to help him reach it too, you quietly encourage him just like he did for you. “Y– you feel so fucking good… need you to fill me up. Wanna take it–”
San groans louder, eyebrows furrowing. He’s right there. His mouth finds your shoulder, biting it as he passes the point of no return. His cock slams into you twice more before stilling, and you can feel a warmth start to spread inside your lower stomach. His body stiffens above yours for a moment or two before shuddering, lowering some of his weight onto you. You don’t mind. You enjoy the closeness.
He doesn’t move until his cock starts to soften inside of you.
His lips linger on your shoulder, ghosting along the skin there before he straightens himself up enough to pull out slowly. He wants to watch your pussy try to keep him in, as well as his cum. The visual nearly gets him hard again. You whimper when he fully removes himself from your core, clenching to not let any of his cum leak out. Both of you breathe heavily, trying to return some air into your lungs.
Your whole body trembles as you try to push yourself up to face your viewers.
[user800510]: i’d never stop fucking if I was either of them tbh
[user799790]: i think i just ripped my dick off
[woogoesthere] has donated $600
You can feel San become restless behind you, and you’re just about to turn around when he settles down on top of you once again. He moves your hair away, over your shoulder and attaches his lips to the side of your neck. You sigh, grinning lazily into the camera.
“Hi~” you greet everyone again cutely, fighting to keep your eyes open. You giggle at yourself and the comments, and the blissful aftermath of another successful collaboration. You’re just the luckiest girl in the world.
[mars9843]: took him so well so proud of u baby
[puppyu.u]: she’s such a good girl isn’t she?
Those two comments make you shiver. All the praise you’re receiving almost makes you dumb, floating on their approval. Your eyes flutter closed when San licks your neck, body still hypersensitive after coming. Below, you can feel some of his cum leak out, dripping down your inner thighs. Whining, you try to press your legs together, but get blocked by his knee in between them. You can feel his cock laying against the curve of your ass, twitching occasionally. Still semi-hard, and not softening completely as you may have expected.
But you remember his basically nonexistent refractory period and swallow dryly.
You wonder if he has the energy to go again, recalling how tired he was before the live. However, this is San you’re talking about. It’s entirely possible.
As if to answer your thoughts, he drags his lips up to your ear.
“Turn it off,” he growls, moving back down to continue sucking a dark spot into your neck. At the same time, he grinds his cock against your ass, the head of it grazing the seam of your pussy.
You hesitate before nodding. Licking your dry lips, you struggle to pronounce your usual ending line properly as he continues. “Th–there’s thousands of others you c-could have spent your time with tonight, so thank you for… choosing us. W-we h-hope you enjoyed it.”
Whimpering a pitiful ‘goodnight’ to everyone, you quickly turn the live off, dropping your head as the total donation pop up fills the screen. You’ll see however much it is later, when it hits your bank account.
Almost as soon as the green light next to the laptop camera blinks out, San rolls you onto your back.
You make a small noise of surprise as he reattaches his mouth to your skin, still peppering your throat with dark red and purple marks. He seems borderline frantic, like he’s trying to keep himself in control and only barely succeeding.
“Wanna make you cum for me again…” he says, guiding your legs up onto his shoulders. “Only for me.”
Just for him. Away from prying eyes.
You don’t say anything, just letting him position you the way he wants. You look down between your bodies as he rubs the full length of his cock through your folds, coating it in your juices. His words swirl around and around in your mind. It’s hard to process anything, much less what he means, but you can tell there’s some underlying meaning behind them. Your hands fly to his arms when he pushes in, stretching your sensitive walls once again.
“San… fuck, oh my god–”
His mouth presses into a thin line, eyes shutting as his cock is enveloped by your sweet, wet warmth for the third time tonight. Still tight. Just for him. At least, that’s what his horny, feral mind tells him. He dares to open his eyes again, looking down to watch his cock slowly disappear inside of you over and over, nearly losing his mind at the sight of a creamy white ring forming at the base. With every push inside, he can feel your inner walls spasming, and your legs shake around him.
“I know, kitten,” he purrs, starting to fuck you even harder than before. Driven by something unknown to you. “God– you’re so good… so perfect. Could fuck you for hours.”
He shivers at the thought, and you whine, knowing he definitely could. His stamina is famous for a reason. Maybe if there’s a third collaboration, you’ll put that statement to the test. Your pussy clamps down on his cock as you envision it. A truly sinful sight for the public to enjoy. Somewhere in the back of San’s mind, he files away a note to take a day or two off in the near future. With your permission and consent of course, he wants to dedicate time to proving himself right. Under the right conditions, and if he prepares for it, absolutely, he could.
You press his body closer, palms flat on his back until your chest brushes his. He’s barely pulling out as he fucks you. When your breath hitches and you let out a particularly loud, pathetic moan, he shoves his hands underneath your shoulders, wrapping around them from behind both to stabilize you and to pull you downwards to meet every thrust. Your mouth is stuck open in a silent scream, and all you can focus on is how unbelievably good he feels. No one else compares.
“Fuck, baby…” He pants, pressing his cheek to yours, completely drunk on the smell of sex mixing with your perfume. “Wanna feel it… wanna feel you soak the fucking bed.”
Something white-hot tugs in your gut upon hearing his words, like he just cast a spell over your body to obey his wishes. A couple stray tears fall from your lashes, wetting your cheeks. San is quick to kiss them away. Your shaky breaths mix together, completely lost in how the other feels.
There’s no granted time or space to think about the fact that… you’re having sex without an audience for the first time. This isn’t for anybody but you two. And somehow it feels even better this way.
San angles his thrusts a certain way, now colliding against that spot that he knows from experience makes you cum hard.
Hot, white stars explode in your vision, making your ears ring. Your nails dig into his arms, leaving angry red crescent-shaped indents in his skin. He hisses but does nothing to move your hands away. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good before. It’s almost frightening. You bury your face into where his neck meets his shoulder, like he can protect you from it.
Meanwhile, San can feel your body tighten and shake, pussy already starting to gush around him even more, getting ready to cum. The sound is pure sin. It only encourages him further. Harder, faster. Just how you like it, and just like how he made you cum before. Selfishly, he’s glad the camera is off; he wants you solely focused on him.
An all too familiar coil tightens in your lower stomach, heat spreading all the way through your body. Your breathing stops as your core tightens around San, damn near choking his cock. Quickly, he brings a hand down between you, rubbing your clit and making your intense pleasure spike even more.
He moans as you cry out, hands desperate to find something to hang onto, but nothing seems to work. You’re thrown right off the edge before you can process it. Everything blurs, and you’re forced to just lay there and feel the intensity. Only his body weight above you keeps you grounded.
“Yes,” he breathes, “oh, good girl. That’s it…c’mon, make a mess for me.”
San looks down in awe, admiring the glistening drops of release that splashed up onto his lower stomach and pelvis, and the excess fluid that now soaks his cock and the bedding. Your hands shake from how hard you’re gripping the sheets, pulling them towards you. You gasp for breath over his shoulder, a low, guttural groan escaping from down in your chest. San slows his thrusts as well as the circles he’s still rubbing over your clit.
Your hips cant upwards, contracting hard around his cock. Wanting more. Wanting to be filled again, chasing that feeling of his cum spreading inside of you one more time.
His eyes flicker up to yours, still closed as the aftershocks riddle your body. To satiate that want, he continues to grind into you, gently, to ease you back into it. Every time his cock pushes inside you, you want to scream, no matter how delicately he’s moving. It’s maddening. It’s everything.
“So sensitive, kitten,” he purrs, looking down at you with mock sympathy but true admiration.
He steals a kiss from you, then another, and you whimper quietly. You’re stuck between wanting him to kiss you and needing space to breathe. But he straightens up completely, legs now straight up in the air, your heels still resting on his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your legs, making sure they don’t fall off as he continues fucking you, sharp and precise.
“One more,” he mutters, “g’na make you cum with me.”
The power behind each thrust makes your breasts bounce, only enticing him further. The promise of another orgasm almost frightens you. You don’t know if you can handle one more. But you don’t have much choice as your body gets itself ready for another one.
You scream again, pleading with him. For what, you’re not sure. His hand that is busy rubbing your clit presses down right above your pubic bone, putting more pressure in your core where your next orgasm is currently forming. Your back arches, causing your hips to raise, and the slight angle change makes him feel even deeper than before. You can’t control what noises come out of your mouth anymore.
San swears under his breath, muttering praises to you that go straight to your core. His own orgasm builds in time with yours, hurtling towards him at breakneck speed.
“G-gonna cum for me while I fill you again, baby? Huh?”
You’re too far gone to give him any kind of verbal response, and he knows it. But he also knows that his words have a major effect on you. He kisses your ankle, groaning into your skin. Then, his arm around your legs leaves you, reaching up to your mouth and pushing two of his fingers past your lips. You make a shocked noise, lips instinctually wrapping around them. The pressure against your tongue makes you even more light-headed. Floating somewhere between the bed and cloud nine.
“Cum, baby. Be a good girl and cum with me.”
Everything goes white. You nearly push his cock out with the force of your orgasm, but he slams in deep, refusing to be moved or to cum anywhere but inside of you. It takes everything in you not to bite his fingers as it hits you, pulling you under an intense wave of pleasure. San continues to pump his cock in and out in small pulses as he comes too, not wanting to miss a single second.
You must be loud because he shoves his fingers deeper, almost to the back of your throat. To find some semblance of comfort in the aftermath, you suck lightly on his digits, whining whenever his other hand taps your swollen clit. Your legs jolt, trying to keep him from doing it again.
Slowly, he guides your legs back down, framing his body on the mattress. You blink past the blurriness to look up at him. Chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat, splashes and streaks of your release still painting his lower half. He fights to breathe normally as he looks at you, committing this view to memory.
“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you onto your side to snuggle into him. You settle against him just as easily as before. You can still feel him buried inside of you, but it’s less pressure now at this angle. “Mm… there we go.”
Now you feel like you know how it truly feels to be fucked by a pornstar.
You smile lazily to yourself at the thought. Off camera is even better.
Breath evening out and consciousness coming back, you press small kisses against his chest. If you shift a little, you can feel a rather large, cold, wet spot underneath you and you blush. San holds you close to him, resting his cheek on the crown of your head.
“This is my favorite part,” he mumbles into your hair. “It’s the only part nobody watches. No cameras. No crew. No fuckin’ paperwork, just you and me.”
Your breath catches in your chest as you realize this is the aftercare you needed the first time. His words stick with you. It’s the only part nobody watches. Just you and me. Is that why he wanted to keep going after you turned the camera off? He wants you all to himself? You can’t bring yourself to believe it, but he keeps dropping these not-so-subtle hints that make you think maybe you’re not so crazy after all.
The longer he holds you, the more you relax into the feeling of him. Not the pornstar or performer, but him. It’s comfortable. Safe. You feel like you could fall asleep in his arms so easily.
“You did so well, kitten…so proud of you,” He whispers, slowly rocking his hips into yours.
Your eyes almost fly open at the realization that he’s still somewhat hard. Based on his tired, content expression though, you don’t think he’s planning on another round. At least, you hope not. Your body needs a longer break first.
You reply with a quiet ‘thank you’, one of your hands sneaking around to his lower back to rest there.
“Next time,” he breathes, continuing to grind slowly and deeply, “‘m gonna fuck you slow. Gonna spend hours making you feel good for me.”
The words ‘next time’ are not lost on you. He’s already planning on seeing you again.
And that promise from before comes back. Hours of this. Hours dedicated to your pleasure. It sounds amazing. Almost too good to be true, since he asks for nothing in return. Nothing but him and you, messy sheets, and sheer pleasure. Yes, please.
Still too blissed out to form an actual sentence, you whimper against him, nodding slowly to let him know you’re into the idea. You wish you could say something to him, but your brain is tapped out. Not a single word forms correctly in your throat.
“So cute…” he whispers, kissing your forehead.
A few minutes later, he finally pulls out. Both of you wince at the loss of warmth and the emptiness. Somewhat more conscious than you were previously, you manage to push yourself up enough to reach for your water. San gets up as well, brushing his finger along the trackpad of your laptop to check the time, and the screen jolts awake again with notifications from Discord – from your top subscriber tier chat specifically. From what San can see in the message previews, your fans are just as insatiable as the two of you.
[mars9843]: god baby is he still fucking u?
[mars9843]: fuck that is so fucking hot
[woogoesthere]: hope he lets her cum off cam shes been so good ㅠㅠ
[puppyu.u]: im about to go fucjing insane
[fix0nmi]: san u lucky bastard i stfg
[puppyu.u] ive never been mroe jealous in my fuckign lfie
[woogoesthere]: u and me both
[mars9843]: i mean in all honesty i wouldnt stop either if given the chance
[fix0nmi]: ^^^^^^^^^^^^^ no way
[fix0nmi]: she gets so sensitive after only a couple orgasms.. i’d wanna keep makign her feel good over adn over until she begs me to stop
[puppyu.u]: god jsut the thought is enough to make me cum again
[woogoesthere]: im so fuckiing close rn
San smirks, enjoying the effect you two have on people firsthand.
“They loved you,” you say with a lazy smile, sighing as you watch San shut your laptop. You kiss his shoulder and rest your head there for a moment, waiting for more than an ounce of energy to make its way back into your body.
“They’re fun,” he admits. Some of them, at least. He thinks back to the other comments that made him limit the chat completely.
“How’d you like it? The change of pace?” You ask, genuinely curious.
“It’s different,” he answers after a moment or two, “definitely less eyes on me than I’m used to.”
You hum, “In a good or bad way?”
San chuckles at your questions. You’re like a postgame interviewer. “I haven’t decided yet.”
You kiss his shoulder again, sighing contently. One of his hands finds yours and plays with your fingers absentmindedly.
He probably wouldn’t be so tired all the time if he chose to do cam instead, you think to yourself. But he’s loyal. And being the Afterdark poster boy has to have its certain perks. Or, more likely, being Choi San is a perk in and of itself.
You shift to sit next to him, your curiosity on how the livestream did getting the better of you. You set your laptop on your legs, eyes temporarily drawn towards the upper right corner, seeing the Discord notifications for yourself. Those four are so down bad for you. But the way they talk… god, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t help you sometimes during your solo shows.
The same donation total pop up lights the screen. Your eyes widen.
$32,092.
Holy. Shit.
San whistles lowly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. It’s definitely more than the two thousand you got paid for the shoot.
“Good job, kitten,” he praises, kissing your cheek.
You stammer a little, still feeling the remnants of your imposter syndrome before replying. “I’ll give you half. You’re the reason why the total is so high, after all.”
San just shakes his head. “It’s yours,” he says. “You’ve earned it.”
“Won’t Hongjoong be expecting his star to be paid for his time?” You ask, only half-joking.
At that, he pauses, knowing you’re right. You give him a playful look before angling your laptop away from him, depositing the earnings into your bank account, intent on sending him half once he gives you his Venmo. You’re somehow able to find your phone in the mess of your bedroom, and you add each other quickly. He doesn’t look as you send him the large amount. In fact, he turns his phone off upon hearing the cha-ching! notification. He’ll check when he’s home.
He leans forward, kissing you slow. You kiss him back, sighing into the feeling of his soft lips on yours again. When he pulls away, you keep your eyes closed for a second longer, savoring the lingering sensation before it fades away. He looks over the edge of the bed, towards the general direction where you saw him toss most of your clothes. While he stands and sets about getting redressed, you turn back to your laptop.
As you scroll back through the chat logs, just curious as to what you missed during the show, you can’t help but notice a certain username missing from the bunch.
“Hm…”
“What?” San asks, glancing up at you as he ties the drawstring of his sweatpants.
“Nothing, it’s just. There’s this new viewer of mine that I thought would be in the live, but I don’t think he was.” You wave it off, not wanting it to bother him or you.
“Maybe I saw him,” San says, leaning forward with his hands planted on the bed, “what’s his user?”
You spell it out loud, “I think it’s pronounced like ‘mountain’.”
San coughs loudly, out of nowhere, and you jump in surprise.
“You okay?” You ask, eyes checking over him, visually making sure he’s alright.
He just nods, face paling and blushing all at once. Avoiding your worried gaze like it’s his job.
But you catch on quick. He told you before that he watched your lives, it just never occurred to you that he was a somewhat active participant. It explains a lot, though. Especially why ‘mntn’ was able to spend such high amounts of money on you, and why he ‘missed’ tonight’s show. Suddenly, San’s words from last week make sense. He’d been hinting at it. ‘Manners’.
“Oh… I’ll pay you back–”
“Don’t you dare,” he says firmly, leaving no room to argue. “It was money well spent.”
You remember his message in your last livestream, ‘collab with him again’, and you try to suppress a smile. It’s cute. You’d tease him further about it, but you remember he knows the username you used to watch his videos too. So you drop it.
San disappears into your bathroom for a minute before returning, a small handtowel at the ready. With one knee up on the bed, he drags you closer to the edge by your ankles, and your pussy throbs almost painfully. When you’re within reach, he sets about cleaning you up, running the warm towel up your inner thighs and in between, shushing you gently when you hiss at the contact against your swollen, sensitive clit.
Now comes the silence. The kind where you can’t tell if it’s comfortable or awkward. He places the towel aside and bends down, picking up your clothes from the floor before handing them to you, and you’re glad to have something to do in the interim. You take your time, some of your limbs are still a little sore.
San sits on the edge of your bed and runs a hand through his hair, the tiredness slowly starting to creep back in. Once dressed, you crawl over to him, kissing his shoulder again before moving to his neck. He tilts his head to the side, giving you more access, sighing in content. When you start to suck lightly on his skin, he reluctantly stops you.
“I can’t,” he says apologetically, leaving out the reason.
You know why without hearing it. Youngmi and Rina would kill him, and he’d no doubt get an earful from Hongjoong. Whoever his scene partner is tomorrow probably wouldn’t love seeing another girl’s mark on him either. You know you fucking wouldn’t.
“Right…” you sigh. It doesn’t hurt, but in your vulnerable, post-orgasmic state, it does give you a stark reality check.
He’s not yours.
He can mark you because your career is slightly different. You can cover any marks he leaves behind with makeup, and your laptop camera in the dim LED lighting will never pick it up onscreen. He has to stay somewhat polished, camera-ready at all times. Both of you sell a fantasy. That’s your job. Even in the middle of the fantasy you’re selling, you have to be mindful of the limits of the one he’s tasked to sell.
This is part of why falling for a pornstar sucks. But again, you shouldn’t even be allowing yourself to be upset about it in the slightest. He doesn’t belong to you. You’re saving his future costar’s ego, as well as not making Youngmi and Rina’s jobs harder.
At least you can hold his hand. So, you do. And for now, that’s enough.
He intertwines your fingers with his, laying your hands against his thigh. You breathe in the scent of him, letting it make your head all fuzzy again. Slowly, your room starts to smell like cinnamon again, the smell of sex gradually fading away.
“I like being with you,” you admit quietly, mumbling some of your words. You tend to get a little honest and more likely to confess certain things after sex. It’s probably all the dopamine and oxytocin.
But he hears them. He doesn’t say anything for a second, but he lifts your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of yours before setting them down again.
“I like being with you, too.” San replies, turning his head to look at you.
There’s a beat of silence between you two. Only the hum of the air conditioning, and the low volume of the music coming from your bathroom that you’ve yet to turn off, filling in the gap. His eyes glance down at your lips and his tongue peeks out to wet his. The visual makes you realize something: he didn’t do his usual ending move. It’s entirely possible he just forgot, but you wonder if his fans that were watching noticed that he didn’t do it either.
You forget about it rather quickly when he kisses you again, angling his body towards you to do so properly. One of his hands cups your face, keeping you still, and you lean into his touch. A small moan from you escapes into his mouth, and he hums, getting a bit more heated. You lean back a little and he follows. Your previous thought of being content to just make out with him for an hour returns, and you can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.
“What?” San whispers, lips against your cheek.
“Nothing,” you whisper back, “just… I like kissing you.”
Now San smiles, ducking his head down for a moment to hide it. “So fuckin’ cute,” he says, before finding your lips again.
It’s softer this time. Slower. Like he’s savoring it. You exhale slowly through your nose, body relaxing into the memory foam below you. His thumb caresses your cheek, and a part of you wishes he’d put his thumb in your mouth next. But if he does, you may just fall back into bed with him again, and you know he has to go soon.
So you break away from him, even though it’s the last thing you want to do.
He searches your face, trying to see if something’s wrong.
“Are you okay?” He asks, brushing your hair away from your face.
It’s too intimate. Certain things he says and does make you think it’s unspoken and real. But you know all it is is simply attraction, a want to be around him, to get to know him better in and out of the bedroom. Only a crush. Nothing more. So why is it so hard to convince yourself of that?
You think back to last week, about how you deemed the pornstar life as something that you couldn’t do. Now you know for certain. You’re realizing sex means something deeper to you than just temporary pleasure. You’re the type that gets attached from it, because it’s complete, total trust and surrender to someone else, and what is more intimate and romantic than that?
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer, avoiding his eyes. “Are you?”
San drops his hand away from your cheek, planting it on the bed, next to your thigh. “I’m okay,” he says.
Tentatively, he leans forward once more to kiss your forehead, and you sigh, eyes fluttering closed as he moves down to your cheek, and then your mouth once more. He doesn’t linger there though, opting to just press his lips to yours for only a couple seconds before pulling away.
You open your eyes to see him checking the time on his phone.
His jaw sets. “Shit…” he mutters under his breath, seeing that it’s nearing one in the morning. “I have to be on set at seven tomorrow.”
“Seven?” You ask, a little bewildered at the call time. Do they really start that early?
San scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, my um– my scene partner for tomorrow can only do mornings, so we have until noon to shoot.”
You hum in response, nodding in acknowledgement. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, obviously thinking something over in his head. He sighs as he stands up from your bed, already missing it. You follow, carefully swinging your legs over the edge and standing slowly, feeling a dull ache in your limbs and your core. Hopefully it will go away by tomorrow, it usually does.
He watches you wince once you’re fully upright and he has to hold himself back from reaching out to help stabilize you. Instead, he reaches down to grab his unzipped backpack, setting it on the edge of the bed. From this angle, you curiously look down at it, catching a glimpse of a laptop and what appears to be extra clothes. Maybe the ones he was originally wearing before his shoot today.
Something catches your eye on the floor and you bend down to grab it. When you straighten up again, he sees that you’re holding the bright pink toy he had brought.
“Can’t forget this,” you grin, and he chuckles.
“Keep it, baby. I got it for you.” He says, zipping up his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder.
“Oh,” you say quietly. “I– thank you.” You look down at the toy like you’re not sure what to do with it. Luckily, your feet guide you on autopilot into your bathroom and set it down in the sink, to be washed later.
You cross your arms over your chest, lingering in the doorway of the en suite bathroom for a moment longer, watching San check something on his phone. The bright glow of the screen casts a white highlight across his face, sharpening his cheekbones and pronouncing his jawline even more.
The question sits on your tongue, waiting for you to say it out loud: ‘Why did you ask for another collab?’
But you swallow it back down for now. It’s only the second time you’ve worked together, and only the second time the two of you have met. You’re going way too fast, thinking way too far ahead. So you just smile politely and watch him turn off his phone, asking him if he has everything. He nods after doing a quick check of his pockets and looks back up at you.
That’s your cue to lead him out.
You lean against the empty wall in the entryway, watching him put his shoes back on in relative silence. His car keys jingle in his hand, the keyring wrapped around one of his fingers. You can’t quite make out the car logo on them, but you’re not very well-versed on car brand logos anyway. And especially not in dark lighting. You shift your weight as he stands up, not knowing what to say off the top of your head.
Luckily, he speaks first.
“I’ll text you later, okay?”
You take a deep breath and nod, daring to step forward a little closer. Close enough that you have to look up at him to meet his gaze. “Okay.”
There’s a charged energy between you, caught up in subtle, sharper inhales and the parting of lips. San’s gaze drops to your mouth, and you stop breathing. He has half a mind to call out ‘sick’ tomorrow, have Hongjoong reschedule everything and just spend the night with you, but he can’t. He’s a professional, and responsible. He hasn’t called out of a shoot in over two years.
So, like always, he’s very blunt with you when he says, “Kitten, if I kiss you right now, I’m not gonna stop.”
Your heart rises to your throat and stays there, getting in the way of any type of verbal response. In order to reply, you have to swallow first. But even with a clear throat, you have no idea how to respond to that, other than ‘okay’.
To make the energy between you even more heated, his hand reaches up to your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. Your face burns and you look up at him, wondering if he is just going to kiss you anyway, despite his warning.
But he pulls away. He has to. The harsh, overly bright hallway light floods in once he opens the door, burning your eyes a little. You place your hand on the door, ready to close it behind him as he steps out.
“Goodnight, San,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”
His famous smile returns, tired but genuine.
“Thank you,” he replies, readjusting the strap on his shoulder as he prepares to head back down to his car. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
You wait until he’s about halfway down the hallway to shut your door.
Your back hits the door with a thud as it closes and locks back into place. The apartment feels even emptier now, even more silent than before. Damn, you think, was it always this quiet?
Your feet pad quietly through the kitchen, back into your bedroom to straighten everything and get ready for bed. Now alone, you suddenly feel just how tired you are. The normal nightly routine you have for yourself after going live feels daunting, like a chore. You groan, catching a glimpse of yourself in your mirror. You cannot sleep in your makeup, at least.
Deciding to just get it over with rather than delay it and mope about it, you don’t bother turning your bathroom light on, letting the LED lights from your room illuminate it instead. You wash your face a little half-heartedly, although you do admit you feel much better after doing it. Your hair, you just tie up into a messy bun to get it out of your face and off your sweaty neck. Finally feeling a little less gross than before, you get ready to brush your teeth – the final hurdle to clear before you can get into bed and sleep until the sun starts to set again.
Two loud dings from your phone nearly makes you jump.
[san]: forgot to ask
[san]: did u like me using the toy?
You text back quickly.
[y/n]: was i not loud enough for u to know already? 😂
[san]: touché
[san]: just making sure ;)
You set your phone down on the bathroom counter, squeezing toothpaste onto your toothbrush as you try to think of a response. It’s one of those texts that you can either let sit for a while or build on right away. You think you’ll let the conversation end there.
But another text comes through. You bite down on your toothbrush to keep it in your mouth as you unlock your phone again to read it.
[san]: goodnight baby
Your skin tingles, but you refuse to let yourself think anything of it. Only surface level. A single, simple ‘goodnight’ text after what you two did doesn’t mean anything. You’re sure if you asked Yeosang, he’d tell you the same thing.
Finally finishing up in the bathroom, you can’t get back into bed quick enough. You groan as you stretch your body underneath the covers before curling up again, intent on scrolling through social media until you fall asleep.
The Discord notification badges on the app catch your eye, and you tap on it, wanting to see what your top subscribers were saying. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting turned on all over again from their chat. It may be insane to say based on zero evidence, but you just know they’re all hot from the way they talk. Only men with experience and game talk like they do. Their chat continues, actually up until about half an hour ago. All of them utterly spent and sleepy after however many times they made themselves cum to the visual and the thought of you and San together. Some of them, it seems, more than twice.
You’ll have to do something for them. Especially because they were such big spenders for you tonight. They deserve something nice, only for them.
[y/n🖤]: u guys are so fucking good to me
[y/n🖤]: gonna reward u soon ;)
You can’t help but smile, knowing your message will drive them crazy. You’re not surprised when none of them respond since you saw that they all said they’re going to bed thirty minutes ago. All the more reason to be excited to check your phone tomorrow.
Sleep pulls you under quickly thereafter, utterly spent from your day.
knew from the moment mingi pressed you into that sound booth two months ago, whispering against your lips that he didn't care if yunho was waiting for you outside.
knew from the way yunho's jaw clenched every time you came home smelling like mingi's cologne.
knew from the way neither of them ever said a damn word about it, but looked at you like you were some prize they were too arrogant to lose.
so maybe you poked the bear.
just a little.
maybe you wore that low cut top to the studio because you knew yunho would be there. maybe you let mingi leave those bruises on your neck because you wanted yunho to see.
but you didn't expect it to come to a head like this.
didn't expect to be tossed into mingi's apartment, back hitting the couch, both men looming above you dangerously.
"so. you like playing games?" yunho's voice is quiet, too quiet.
you swallow, trying to sit up. but mingi's already on his knees in front of you, sliding a hand up your bare thigh with a lazy smirk. "she's good at it, gotta admit."
"mingi," yunho snaps.
but he doesn't stop. he kisses your knee, your inner thigh, your stomach, staking his claim on you.
yunho watches, eyes dark and jaw tightening. but he doesn't stop mingi, he just leans against the wall and watches you squirm.
mingi's mouth brushes over your panties, causing your hips to jerk.
yunho's by your side in a second. "clothes off. now."
your fingers shake as you reach for the hem of your top, pulling it up and over your head, letting the cool air hit your chest. mingi's hands are already at the clasp of your bra, undoing the clasp and sliding the straps down your arms, tossing it somewhere behind him.
yunho stands close, eyes dragging over the fresh marks on your body, jaw tightening with the realization that he didn't leave them. "the rest," he grumbles.
you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your bottoms, pushing it down your hips until it pools around your ankles, leaving you in just a pair of panties. mingi smirks, leaning in and pressing his tongue flat against the fabric, right over your clit.
yunho makes a low sound as he reaches down, catching your chin and tipping your face up so you have to look at him. "you wanted this," he states, "wanted both of us looking at you like this."
you avert your eyes as mingi's fingers curl under the edge of your panties, peeling them down slowly before dropping the fabric.
yunho's thumb brushes over your lower lip, "open."
you obey, allowing him to slide two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue as mingi puts his mouth on you properly. his tongue drags up from your entrance to your clit, making your hips lift off the couch cushions.
your moans vibrate around yunho's fingers as he watches your face, jaw still tight with residual jealously. "that's it," yunho murmurs, "let him hear you."
mingi's tongue circles, dipping lower to push inside you before pulling back up to focus on your clit again. one of his hands holds your thigh down so you can't close your legs while the other hand slides up, playing with your nipple until it tightens.
yunho pulls his fingers from your mouth, saliva stringing between them and your lips before he wipes them on your cheek carelessly. he reaches down, undoing his belt slowly and shoving his jeans down just enough to free himself, the weight of his cock resting against your cheek.
"suck," yunho orders, tapping his cock against your cheek.
you turn your head to take him in your mouth, lips sealing around him as your tongue presses along the underside. yunho's hand settles in your hair as you set the pace, throat tightening around him whenever mingi plays with your clit.
mingi pulls back long enough to push tongue fingers into you, curling them instantly to find that sensitive spot inside you before his mouth is back on your clit, sucking in time with the thrusts of his hand. you moan around yunho's cock, willing him to start thrusting into your throat, pushing deeper.
"look at her," mingi says between licks, voice ragged, "she's dripping."
yunho's fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you off his cock for a few seconds to let you breathe, "then stop talking and make her cum."
mingi thrusts his fingers faster, letting the pressure build in your stomach as your thighs shake harder. you cum hard, cunt clenching around mingi's fingers as he licks you through it until you're twitching, trying to writhe away from his touch.
mingi pulls his fingers free, shiny with your release. he looks up at yunho before pushing them into his own mouth, sucking them clean.
yunho's jaw flexes as he pushes you back against the couch cushions, climbing over you and letting his knees bracket your hips. the head of his cock presses against your entrance, sinking in a few inches before bottoming out in one thrust.
"fuck-!" you whimper, the air punching out of your lungs. yunho leans down until his forehead is almost touches yours, "you wanted both of us," he murmurs against your lips, "so you're gonna take both of us."
mingi strips the rest of his clothes off behind yunho before climbing up beside you, turning your face towards him and kissing you softly. his cock brushes against your side, hard and leaking at the tip.
yunho starts moving in deep strokes, punching small whimpers from your mouth that mingi swallows. one of mingi's hands finds your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers while yunho fucks you steadily.
after a few minutes, yunho pulls out, making you whimper at the emptiness as he sits back on his heels, "switch."
mingi lies back on the couch, eagerly pulling you over him so you're straddling his hips. his hands grip your waist and guide you down onto his cock, pulling a groan from his throat.
yunho moves behind you, chest pressing against your back before you feel the blunt head of his nudging against your ass. he reaches around to gather some of your wetness, slicking himself with it before pushing in.
"easy," mingi murmurs against your collarbone, hands stroking up and down your sides, "breathe." yunho starts moving first as you get used to the intrusion, and mingi follows, picking up the rhythm from below.
yunho's mouth finds the side of your neck, biting down on one of the marks mingi had previously left, pulling a gasp from your lips.
your second orgasm comes crashing over you, your whole body shaking between them. yunho's arm locks around your waist to hold you steady while mingi's hips snap up harder.
mingi cums first, his whole body tightening under you as he spills deep inside you, a guttural groan falling from his throat. yunho follows quickly after, burying himself to the hilt before cumming with his mouth pressed to your neck, hips jerking through it.
the sound of heavy breathing fills the room before yunho pulls out, the emptiness making you shiver as mingi strokes slow paths up and down your back. eventually, you end up between them on the couch. one of yunho's legs is thrown over yours, mingi's arm locked across your waist.
yunho's fingers trace the skin of your hip, "next time you decide to play games," he murmurs, "i don't think we're stopping at the couch."
mingi huffs a soft laugh against the back of your neck, "he's not kidding."
WARNINGS: Explicit/foul language, teasing, jealousy, public touching, oral sex (m/f & f/m), fingering, rough sex, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie/internal cumshot..
SUMMARY: Last night was a mistake," you said. But for Wooyoung, that "mistake" was only the beginning. Now that you have the apartment to yourself for the weekend, he’s ready to prove that you’ve both been waiting years for this exact moment... and he doesn't plan on showing any mercy.
There was an unspoken rule, burned into your brain from the moment you stepped foot on campus: your brother’s friend group was completely off-limits. And at the top of that invisible warning list, written in bold and double-underlined, was Jung Wooyoung.
The problem was that avoiding Wooyoung on campus was practically impossible. He was the star of the soccer team, the guy who constantly had half the school orbiting around him, and—to your absolute misfortune—your brother’s best friend. That meant you didn't just run into him in the hallways or watch him shine on the field during practice; it meant Wooyoung was a permanent fixture in your life.
He was in your apartment kitchen at eight in the morning, devouring your cereal because he’d crashed on the couch again—claiming your place was closer after a night out. He was on the living room sofa in sweatpants with messy hair after training, laughing way too loud at some stupid joke. He had this infuriating habit of leaning on you, slinging a heavy arm over your shoulders whenever he greeted you just to mess up your hair or whisper some sharp comment right into your ear.
A know-it-all, arrogant, absurdly attractive, and completely aware of the effect he had on people.
"You’re gonna break that mug if you keep gripping it like that," his deep, mocking voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
You hadn't even heard him walk into the kitchen. Wooyoung was leaning against the doorframe, wearing the university letterman jacket, sporting that lopsided smirk you swore you’d knock off his face one day. His hands were stuffed in his sweatpant pockets, watching you with undisguised amusement.
"I’m just waiting for you to get out of my way so I can leave," you replied, dodging him to drop your mug in the sink.
"Oof, aggressive. Did you not sleep well, or are you just annoyed that your brother’s best friend is the most popular guy on campus?" he teased, taking a step forward to slightly block your path, simply because he knew his proximity irritated you.
"I’m annoyed that you exist within ten feet of me, Wooyoung. Move."
He let out a low chuckle—the kind that vibrated in his chest and, much to your dismay, got right under your skin. He stepped aside with a dramatic bow, as if he were doing you the favor of a lifetime, watching you walk down the hall with that calculating look you could never quite read.
That same night, the party at the team’s fraternity house was the mandatory event of the weekend. Your brother had begged you to go, even though you knew full well that within half an hour he’d be swallowed up in some conversation about the upcoming game or playing drinking games with his teammates.
The place was a perfect state of chaos: music throbbing through the walls, dim lights tinted red and blue, and plastic cups filled with cheap alcohol everywhere. You’d been chatting with your friends near the makeshift bar in the kitchen, trying to enjoy the night and forget about next week’s exams, when a far too familiar presence leaned over you from behind.
"Three cups in less than an hour?" a low voice murmured near your ear, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath brushing against the nape of your neck.
You spun around abruptly. Wooyoung was standing there, holding his own cup, his shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar and carrying that exasperating aura of confidence he always brought with him.
"You’re drinking quite a bit. You should probably slow down," he said, scanning you from head to toe with a raised eyebrow.
You narrowed your eyes and took a small step back to put some distance between the two of you, though you didn't have much room to maneuver in that crowded space.
"And what are you supposed to be now, my babysitter, Wooyoung?" you snapped, crossing your arms and staring him down defiantly.
He took a slow sip from his cup, keeping his eyes locked on yours. The red glow of the kitchen lights carved out his jawline and accentuated that cocky smirk that drove you out of your mind.
"Seeing as your brother’s out in the backyard wasting time in a beer pong tournament and hasn't even realized what time it is, someone has to make sure you don't end up doing something stupid. Consider it a favor."
The condescension in his tone made your blood boil. You were sick of him treating you like the little sister who needed supervision, especially when you knew all too well what kind of reputation he had on campus.
"I don't need anyone looking after me, Wooyoung. Least of all you," you said, stepping forward to confront him face-to-face, stopping just inches from his chest. "If you care so much about the people at this party, why don't you go waste your time hooking up with some dumb cheerleader upstairs? I'm sure there are a couple waiting for you."
For a second, Wooyoung’s playful smirk faded. His gaze suddenly darkened, growing more intense as it dropped to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. A dangerous slowness took over his movements as he leaned in closer, forcing you to look up at him.
"And who told you I haven't already?" he husky-whispered, his voice growing raspy over the sound of the music. "Though... dumb cheerleader? Wow. I didn't take you for the type to judge people like that... Or are you just bothered by the thought of me with someone else?"
The air between you grew heavy. The way he said it—so close, as if he were absolutely certain you were jealous—made you flinch in sheer rage.
"You're an hopeless idiot," you spat through gritted teeth, shoving his shoulder lightly to make room for yourself. "Have a great time with whoever, Wooyoung. Just leave me alone."
You turned on your heel without waiting for his response and lost yourself in the crowd, your pulse racing and your cheeks burning. You knew he hadn't moved an inch, feeling his eyes locked onto your back until you finally cleared the kitchen.
But the problem with Wooyoung wasn't just the kitchen; it was the whole party.
For the next hour, the feeling of having a shadow glued to the back of your neck wouldn't go away. You tried to focus on your friends, dance a bit, and have another drink, but every time you glanced over your shoulder, there he was. Leaning against a pillar, talking to his teammates, or fiddling with a bottle in his hands, but always keeping one eye fixed on you.
The worst happened when a guy from the basketball team—someone you’d seen around campus a couple of times—walked up to talk to you. He was nice, polite, and the conversation was flowing naturally, but he’d barely been by your side for two minutes when a large, heavy hand rested on his shoulder with crushing familiarity.
"Hey, man, I think they were looking for you in the backyard for the next beer pong match," Wooyoung said, appearing out of nowhere with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and a voice laced with fake friendliness.
The guy blinked, confused.
"Oh, really? I thought it was..."
"Yeah, yeah, they're waiting for you. Get going," Wooyoung interrupted, giving him a couple of patronizing pats on the back that sounded borderline threatening. Intimidated by the vibe, the guy apologized to you and quickly walked away.
You whipped around to face Wooyoung, practically breathing fire.
"What the fuck is your problem?" you snapped through gritted teeth, squeezing your plastic cup so hard it crinkled. "Now you're scaring off anyone who talks to me?"
"Just saving you from wasting your time with a boring guy," he replied with complete composure, taking another step into your personal space as if claiming that spot were his birthright. "You're welcome, by the way."
"You weren't saving me from anything. I was having a normal conversation until you decided to act like a territorial asshole. You are not my brother, Wooyoung! You're not even my friend!"
That last sentence seemed to strike a nerve. Wooyoung’s mocking smirk vanished completely, replaced by a dark shadow in his gaze. He leaned in a fraction closer, dropping his voice below the thud of the bass.
"Don't push me," he whispered, and the gravity in his tone made you hold your breath for half a second.
Fed up, suffocated by the heat of the house, the alcohol, and the utter frustration of having him breathing down your neck the entire night, you didn't say another word. You slammed your cup down on the nearest table, shoved your way through the crowd, and pushed through the front door.
The crisp night air hit your face the moment your feet touched the pavement. You took a heavy breath, trying to settle your racing pulse as you power-walked toward the neighborhood exit, away from the blaring music.
"Wait!" Wooyoung’s voice echoed behind you, followed by the heavy, hurried thump of his footsteps on the asphalt.
You ignored his call and quickened your pace, but he was an athlete and your legs were no match for his. In under five seconds, a warm, firm hand wrapped around your wrist, jerking you to a sudden halt and pulling just hard enough to force you to turn around.
The sudden momentum left you standing mere inches from his chest. Wooyoung was breathing heavily—not from the short chase, but from the raw tension he’d been harboring inside the house. His grip on your wrist was firm yet gentle, anchoring you by his side under the dim yellow glow of a streetlight.
"Let go of me, Wooyoung," you said, attempting to yank your arm free without success, staring down at how tightly his knuckles held your skin.
"Not until you look me in the eye and stop running away," he replied, shifting his grip to slide his fingers down your hand until they intertwined with yours—a gesture so intimate it caught your breath in your throat.
His other hand reached straight for your neck, wrapping around it with a possessive tenderness, resting his thumb right along your jawline. The contrast of his hot skin against yours, chilled by the night wind, sent a surge of electricity straight to your core.
"You've been playing with my head all fucking night," he husky-whispered, taking one more step until the tips of his shoes brushed against yours. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips with an intensity you had never seen in him before. "You say I'm not your brother, that I'm not your friend... You're right. I'm not. So stop looking at me like I am, and tell me right fucking now what you want me to be."
The confrontation was so direct that you froze completely. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, the firm pressure of his hand on the nape of your neck holding you in place, and the erratic thudding of his own heart beating right against your chest.
The second you uttered his name in sheer bewilderment—"Wooyoung, what are you saying?"—you saw the exact moment reality hit him like a bucket of ice water.
Wooyoung’s eyes blinked wide. The firm grip on your neck loosened slightly, and his fingers, which just a second ago were tightly intertwined with yours, pulled apart with an almost clumsy abruptness. He suddenly realized how exposed they were under the streetlight, on a side street right next to a house where half the university was wandering in and out. If anyone from the team or your brother walked out right now and caught them like this, the news would spread like wildfire.
Clearing his throat, Wooyoung took a step back and ran a hand through his hair, forcing a low, casual laugh to cover up the slip-up.
"Look at your face... Did you actually fall for that?" he blurted out, regaining his mask of arrogance in a split second, though his breath was still noticeably uneven. "I just wanted to see how far I could push you. You're way too easy to wind up."
You glared at him, eyes dripping with poison.
"You are pathetic, Wooyoung," you spat in disgust. "I'm going back to my dorm."
"Go back to the party, come on. Your brother is gonna ask about you," he said, nodding toward the house with a flimsy excuse to avoid being left alone with you.
"What for? So you can keep ruining my night?" you snapped, crossing your arms tightly.
"Don't be so dramatic, I was just messing around..."
"Fuck you!" you spat out before turning on your heel and marching away with a steady, furious stride.
Wooyoung remained standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching you walk away into the cold night wind. He dragged both hands down his face in frustration, letting out a muted curse. He knew he couldn't let you walk back to the dorms alone at this hour, so he quickly turned around and hurried toward the driveway of the house, where he’d left his car parked.
You kept power-walking, rubbing your arms to fight off the chill. You’d barely made it a couple of blocks when the sound of an accelerating engine illuminated the street behind you with two bright headlights.
Wooyoung’s car slowed down as it reached you, crawling alongside you at the exact speed of your stride. The passenger window rolled down slowly.
"Get in the car," he said from inside, leaning over the console with one hand gripping the steering wheel. "I’m not letting you walk back alone at this hour dressed like that and freezing to death."
"Aside from not needing a babysitter, I don't need a cab driver either," you shot back without stopping or looking at him.
Wooyoung let out a quiet laugh—one of those genuine chuckles that escaped whenever he couldn't help finding your attitude charming. He kept the car rolling slowly beside you.
"Come on, don't play hard to get. I promise not to say a single word the whole drive. Get in, come on, or I’ll have to crawl behind you at five miles an hour all the way to your dorm, and we’re gonna cause a whole scene."
After a couple more complaints, the cold draft against your legs and Wooyoung’s persistence made you give in. You let out a frustrated sigh, opened the door, and got into the passenger seat, slamming it shut with a bit more force than necessary.
The drive was silent, but the tension inside the car was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Wooyoung drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes locked on the road, jaw tightly clenched.
When he finally parked in front of your building, the engine shut off, and the silence in the car became suffocating.
You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle to get out without saying a single word, but before you could open it, a warm hand rested firmly right on top of your bare thigh.
The direct touch of his palm against your skin sent an electric shock straight up your spine. You froze and turned slowly to look at him.
"What?" you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow. "You're not expecting me to pay for the ride, are you?"
Wooyoung leaned back in his seat, letting out a low chuckle while shaking his head. His hand didn't budge from your thigh; in fact, his fingers sank a little deeper against the fabric of your skirt.
"Why are you always so mad at me?" he asked. The earlier seriousness was gone, replaced by that playful, easygoing amusement he always used to unarm you.
"Because you're extremely good at getting under my skin," you replied, turning your whole body toward him. The car door was still slightly ajar, but your attention was trapped inside. "You're always all over me."
Wooyoung tilted his head, letting his gaze slowly trail down your neck to your neckline before snapping back to your eyes.
"Not as much as I'd like to be," he blurted out effortlessly, with a double meaning so obvious the air instantly heated up again.
"Wooyoung..." you warned.
"Okay, fine. I admit I like pushing your buttons," he played dumb, flashing a lazy smirk as his thumb absently caressed the skin of your leg. "It's fun watching you get all worked up."
You crossed your arms, staring at him under the dim glow of the dashboard lights.
"And can you tell me why you love doing it so much?"
Wooyoung’s smirk gradually faded. His hand on your thigh slid up barely a couple of inches—a slow caress that raised the hairs on your arm.
"Because I've known you since we were twelve," he began, his voice dropping a couple of octaves, turning intimate, almost secretive. "I've been at your house a million times. I've watched you grow up, change... I've watched you turn into this."
He made a vague gesture with his free hand pointing to all of you, and the way he looked at you made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"And for a long time, I convinced myself you were just my best friend's sister. But you're not fifteen anymore. And when I see you walking around campus or dressed like this at a party, it takes everything in me to remember I'm not supposed to look at you."
The weight of his words took your breath away. For the first time in years, Wooyoung wasn't hiding behind a joke.
"So yeah," he added, leaning in until his face was inches from yours, trapping you against the seat. "I like pushing your buttons because it's the only way I can get you to pay attention to me and not some other idiot on campus."
Before you could process the confession, Wooyoung closed the remaining distance.
His mouth claimed yours in a hungry, hot, uninhibited kiss. It wasn't sweet or slow; it was the explosion of years of pent-up frustration. His hand squeezed your thigh tightly, pulling you toward him while the other slid up the nape of your neck to deepen the contact. You kissed him back with the same built-up rage and desire, tasting the alcohol and the heat of his tongue against yours.
When you finally parted for air, both of you were breathless. Wooyoung rested his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded, his gaze dark.
"Get to your room before I do something crazy right here," he husky-whispered against your lips, his voice raspy.
You stepped out of the car on shaky legs and with your heart in your throat, never looking back as you headed up to your dorm.
You’d spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. The taste of alcohol mixed with Wooyoung’s kiss seemed to remain printed on your lips, and every time you closed your eyes, you felt the firm grip of his hand on your thigh all over again.
At noon, your doorbell rang. It was the delivery guy with a fairly large box addressed to your brother. As usual, he’d used your address because he was a total mess, always sleeping in or never home to receive his packages.
With no desire to get dressed up, you threw on some comfortable athletic shorts and kept the oversized t-shirt you’d slept in. Since his place was only a couple of blocks away, you grabbed the box and your spare set of keys, unsure whether you’d find your brother awake or even home.
You reached the building, walked up the stairs, and unlocked the door. The apartment was dimly lit and silent, except for the sound of running water from the main bathroom.
You stepped down the hallway and set the box on the living room table.
"I left your package on the table," you called out into the air, assuming it was your brother in the shower. "Next time use your own address or I'm not—"
The words froze in your throat as the bathroom door swung open.
It wasn't your brother.
Wooyoung stepped out wrapped in a cloud of hot steam, towel-drying his hair. He wore nothing but a white towel knotted precariously at his hips. Drops of water glided down his sculpted torso, sliding over the bronze skin of his chest, tracing down his defined abs before disappearing beneath the edge of the fabric.
When he caught sight of you standing there in the middle of the hallway, Wooyoung froze. Surprised at first, but in less than two seconds that expression gave way to a slow, dangerous smirk.
"Well, well..." he said, letting the hand towel rest over his shoulders without making the slightest attempt to cover himself. "I didn't know home delivery came with a personalized visit at this hour."
You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure while your treacherous eyes involuntarily darted down his bare torso before snapping back to his face.
"I didn't expect to see you so soon after last night," you admitted, keeping your voice as steady as possible.
Wooyoung took a couple of steps toward you, leaving a trail of clean soap scent and warm steam in his wake.
"Your brother left early to deal with some team stuff and gave me the place to myself," he explained, closing the gap until he was standing just inches away. "And as for last night... I doubted you could go very long without looking for me."
You locked eyes with him, refusing to yield an inch.
"Last night was a mistake."
The line hung in the air like a direct challenge. Wooyoung’s smirk wiped clean off his face, replaced by a flash of raw irritation and suppressed desire. Stepping forward quickly, he forced you back until your spine hit the hallway wall.
"A mistake?" he husky-whispered, gently trapping you against the wall. His damp chest rested millimeters from yours, radiating almost unbearable heat. "Are you really gonna keep pretending this is just me pushing your buttons?"
He planted one hand on the wall right beside your head, while his other hand slid slowly up your waist, slipping beneath the loose fabric of your oversized t-shirt to pull your body flush against his. The touch of his hot palm against the bare skin of your side made you let out a soft gasp.
"Because if you want it to be a real mistake, you're gonna have to convince me that you didn't enjoy a single second of how I kissed you in that car."
You ran out of air. The proximity of his damp body, the firmness of his hold, and the heat of his breath against your mouth made every logical thought evaporate into thin air.
"Tell me I was wrong last night," Wooyoung pressed in a dark whisper, stepping closer until he pinned you completely to the wall. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away right now. I swear."
A thick silence settled over the hallway, broken only by your ragged breathing. Wooyoung stared down at you, waiting for the word to stop that he knew you weren't going to say. Because the truth—the one you’d been hiding for years behind petty fights and sharp comebacks—was that you had fantasized about a moment like this a million times.
Instead of speaking, you leaned forward and closed the distance, crashing your lips against his in a desperate kiss.
Wooyoung let out a low growl from the deep recesses of his throat. What little restraint he had left shattered into a thousand pieces. He kissed you back with a brutal voracity, tilting your head to deepen the contact as his tongue sought yours eagerly.
His hands didn't wait any longer. One of them slid rapidly down from your waist, slipping ruthlessly beneath the waistband of your athletic shorts and underwear until molding to the curve of your ass, squeezing firmly to pin you against his hips. The hard ridge outlined under his towel pressed directly against your core, knocking the breath out of you.
Without breaking the kiss, Wooyoung’s hand began a slow journey up the front of your belly, finding its way through the fabric until reaching the warmth between your legs. When his fingers brushed your most sensitive area for the first time, he felt the slick wetness soaking through the fabric of your panties.
He pulled back a millimeter from your mouth, panting, as a wicked, deeply satisfied smirk spread across his lips.
"Fuck..." he rasped out, tracing the pad of his thumb over your center through the damp cloth. "Look at you..."
A high-pitched moan escaped your throat, betraying you completely. You threw your head back against the wall, incapable of articulating a single coherent word.
"You've been thinking about me all morning, haven't you?" he murmured wickedly into your ear, nipping at your earlobe before trailing down to your neck.
He pushed the fabric of your underwear aside with his fingers. The first direct touch of his skin against your bare wetness sent a spasm right through you. Wooyoung coated his fingers in your slickness, moving them slowly up and down, savoring your reaction with every touch.
"Wooyoung..." you whimpered, digging your nails into the damp skin of his shoulders.
"Tell me, babe," he replied in a raspy whisper, right before sinking a finger slowly inside you.
The feeling of being filled was so intense that you arched instantly, clinging to his shoulders like your only lifeline. Wooyoung gave you no quarter; he began moving his finger in a slow, agonizing, deep rhythm while reclaiming your neck with his mouth, gently biting the sensitive skin of your collarbone to leave a clear mark of his touch.
"You're so tight..." he growled, feeling how narrow you wrapped around him. "And that's just one finger."
Without warning, he added a second finger, stretching your walls. A muffled gasp escaped you, which he smothered by pressing his mouth to yours. He began curling his fingertips inside you, hitting the exact spot that drove you out of your mind.
The wet sound of his fingers moving inside you echoed through the hallway, mingling with your increasingly unraveled moans.
Wooyoung slowed his pace slightly, though he didn't pull his fingers out. He looked down at you, pupils blown wide with lust, his breathing ragged, and a command burning in his eyes.
"Pull up your shirt," he ordered in a harsh, blunt voice that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. "Show me your breasts."
The direct, shameless way he demanded it set your blood on fire. Far from feeling self-conscious, the authority in his voice acted as a total aphrodisiac. Without a second's hesitation, you obeyed—grabbing the hem of your oversized t-shirt and pulling it up to your neck, leaving your breasts completely exposed to his gaze.
Wooyoung’s breath hitched at the sight.
"Holy shit..." he muttered.
He didn't hesitate for a single second. Crashing his head forward, he cupped one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking hard while his tongue teased the hardened tip. At the same time, his fingers inside you resumed a fast, precise, unrelenting pace.
The combination of suction on your chest and the constant thrumming of his fingers inside you drove you over the edge in seconds. You felt the crest of an orgasm building at the base of your spine, making your entire body tremble.
Wooyoung noticed your internal muscles beginning to clench desperately around his fingers. He pulled away from your chest, staring at you with an intensity that was almost frightening as he accelerated the work of his hand.
"Are you gonna come for me, baby?" he asked, using the pet name with a possessive tone that sent shivers straight through you.
"Wooyoung, please..." you begged, on the verge of unraveling.
"Come on, come for me," he pressed, thrusting with two fingers faster and faster, flicking your clitoris with his thumb at the same time. "Make a complete mess on my fingers."
The continuous thrumming of his fingers and the pressure of his thumb shattered what little control you had left. You let out a long, broken moan as your body convulsed against the wall, trapped in an overwhelming orgasm that made your inner muscles squeeze tightly around his fingers.
Wooyoung relished every single second. He held your weight pinned against him, feeling you tremble all over, wearing a slow, triumphant smirk.
As the rush of the climax began to ebb and your legs threatened to give out, Wooyoung withdrew his fingers from inside you with agonizing slowness. A slick strand glistened under the hallway light. Without taking his dark eyes off yours, he brought his fingers directly to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them to suck and savor every drop of you without a shred of shame.
You froze, shirt still pulled up, your chest heaving rapidly as you stared at the sheer sight of Wooyoung tasting you like that.
"Mmm..." he hummed, swallowing slowly with a click of his tongue. "Next time, I'm devouring you whole."
You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to recover your breath and your dignity in equal measure.
"Next time?" you managed to articulate, raising an eyebrow despite the tremor in your voice.
Wooyoung took a step forward, trapping you against the wall once more. He pressed in so close that you could feel the hardness of his erection, held back beneath the towel, digging into your belly. He leaned into your ear, dropping his voice to a raspy whisper that sent chills down your skin.
"Oh, yeah. This is just the beginning. I plan on enjoying every inch of you the way you deserve," he murmured, leaving a kiss—complete with a nip—on the curve of your neck. "Right now, I don't need your brother walking in out of nowhere, catching us right here, and trying to tear my throat out... But you're gonna end up completely mine."
The reminder of your brother hit you like a bucket of ice water. You yanked your shirt down instantly and adjusted your athletic shorts with trembling hands, dodging the smirk Wooyoung was giving you.
"I... I have to go," you stammered, gathering your things from the living room table in a hurry. "I scheduled a study session with a classmate."
"Right, 'studying,'" he teased, leaning against the hallway doorframe with his arms crossed over his bare chest, openly enjoying your escape. "Have a productive study session, baby."
You practically sprinted out of the apartment, your cheeks burning and the lingering sensation between your legs reminding you with every step of what had just happened.
Over the next three days, the university was a landmine. It was a brief academic break for a local holiday, so the campus was eerily quiet, but your phone was anything but.
In your contact list, his name was still saved the exact same way it had been since high school: "Wooyoung the Idiot."
He had zero shame or modesty. He sent you texts at all hours of the day, fully aware that his teasing game was driving you out of your mind.
I can still taste you from the hallway the other day.
Are you still "studying," or are you thinking about my fingers again?
You tried to give him blunt responses to avoid giving him the satisfaction, but he always found a way to raise the stakes.
Stop sending me dirty texts, Wooyoung. I'm having dinner with my roommate.
Tell your roommate to make plans for tomorrow night. I can't wait to feel how tight your pussy is around my dick, and I'm not waiting much longer.
A shiver ran through your whole body every time you read your screen. And to your bad (or good) luck, the perfect opportunity presented itself on a silver platter: the next morning, your roommate announced she’d be leaving for the entire weekend to visit her family in her hometown.
You were going to have the apartment all to yourself for over forty-eight hours.
But Wooyoung wasn't patient. Before night fell on the day of your roommate's planned departure, your phone screen lit up with a notification that made your heart skip a beat.
I'm downstairs. Get down here right now.
You blinked in surprise, staring at the screen. It was Friday night, and your roommate was still finishing up her packing in the next room to leave first thing the following morning. Not understanding what the fuck he was suddenly doing there, you threw on your sandals in a hurry and rushed down the stairs.
That night you wore a thin summer dress with spaghetti straps and a lightweight fabric—the kind that, with its neckline and open back, demanded going braless.
The moment you walked out to the entrance, you saw his car double-parked with the engine idling. You approached with a fast stride, threw open the passenger door, and glared at him with a furrowed brow.
"Do you mind telling me what the hell you're doing here, Wooyoung?" you asked abruptly, resting one hand against the doorframe.
Wooyoung, who was leaning over the steering wheel, turned slowly to look at you. His dark eyes trailed down the line of your bare shoulders, slid over the thin fabric of the dress subtly outlining the curve of your braless breasts, and continued down to the hem that barely covered half your thigh.
He swallowed hard, locking his eyes onto yours with a dangerous intensity.
"Get in the car," he said simply, his voice deep, without a single trace of a mocking tone.
"I'm not getting in anywhere until you tell me what—"
"Get in, or I'm stepping out and putting you in by force," he interrupted, turning his face toward the road as his knuckles turned white on the wheel. "You decide if you'd rather make a scene in front of your dorm building or not."
With a huff of sheer frustration, you climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. Wooyoung hit the gas immediately, merging into the city traffic faster than usual.
"Where are we going?" you demanded to know, watching through the window as the lights of the campus and the main buildings fell behind.
"Wait and see," he replied without looking at you, his jaw clenched tight.
He kept the drive in an electrically charged silence until the asphalt gave way to a secluded backroad. He drove up to a high vantage point, a secluded clearing surrounded by trees where the distant city lights were barely visible. He cut the headlights and the engine, leaving the car swallowed in an intimate twilight, illuminated only by the moonlight.
Wooyoung let out a long sigh, unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned completely toward you in his seat.
"I couldn't stand the urge to see you," he confessed, and the raw honesty of his words caught you off guard. "My initial plan was to convince you to grab a quiet dinner and spend some time together... But you showed up dressed like this, and..."
"Wooyoung, don't be a creep," you cut him off instantly, trying to sound indignant even as your heart hammered in your throat. "You showed up out of nowhere and caught me before I could change. I didn't get dressed for you."
Wooyoung let out a quiet, lazy, dark chuckle as he extended his arm. Before you could react, his large, warm hand rested on the thin fabric of your dress, right on your thigh, and began slowly tracing up your skin.
"That's the thing... You push my buttons even when you claim you aren't trying to," he murmured, leaning into your space until his warm breath grazed your cheek.
"Wooyoung, I don't think about you all day," you lied, trying to hold his gaze while the heat of his hand on your leg made your skin break out in goosebumps.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper.
His hand slid up faster, gathering the lightweight fabric of the thin dress up toward your hips. His fingers slipped beneath the edge of your underwear, reaching directly for your core. The moment he touched the bare skin between your legs, the slick wetness giving you away made Wooyoung let out a soft whistle of satisfaction.
He glided two fingers coated in your slickness, stroking you slowly while staring into your eyes with a triumphant smirk.
"Because I don't think your pussy has forgotten me... And it's clearly telling a completely different story from what comes out of your mouth."
Wooyoung sank two fingers deep inside you in a precise motion, making you choke back a moan. His thumb began pressing firmly against your clitoris, tracing slow circles as your hips instinctively adjusted against the seat to give him even easier access.
A wicked smile curled at the corner of his lips as he felt your body's reaction.
"Look at how your body says the exact opposite..." he whispered near your ear, his voice growing raspier with his uneven breathing. "Opening up for me like this without me even having to ask. I love how you lose your composure the second I touch you."
He thrust a third finger in all at once, curling it inside you to pull a husky gasp from your lungs. The wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you filled the confined space of the car. He cupped your chin with his other hand, forcing you to look at him as he made sure you felt every stroke.
"You're so hot... So tight for me," he murmured, accelerating the pace of his hand for a few seconds until you were trembling from head to toe. "But this isn't enough."
Suddenly, Wooyoung withdrew his fingers from inside you and leaned back into the driver’s seat. With a practiced, swift motion, he unlatched the lever on the side and reclined the seatback all the way, opening up a spacious gap in the center of the car.
"Get up here," he commanded, looking up at you with pupils completely blown wide. "Get on top of me."
Unable to resist the order, you swung a leg over the center console and settled straddling his lap, knees resting on either side of his hips. Your thin dress bunched up around your thighs.
Wooyoung didn't wait a single second. His hands slid slowly up the back of your thighs, feeling the heat of your bare skin as they dragged the lightweight fabric of your dress upward. The path of his palms was deliberate, moving firmly up until reaching the curve of your ass.
Noticing the tiny piece of fabric you were wearing, Wooyoung squeezed his fingers tightly into your cheeks, letting out a low growl from deep in his chest.
"Fuck... You're practically wearing nothing," he rasped out, his voice broken.
He kneaded your ass with both hands, parting your cheeks to mold you perfectly against the hard bulge of his pants. Then, one of his hands descended down the center, tracing along the cleft of your ass until brushing the soaked edge of the fabric covering your pussy. The pressure of his palm against your core made you arch your back and release a soft sigh against his neck.
Without breaking eye contact, Wooyoung slid his hands up toward your shoulders. He grabbed the thin spaghetti straps of your summer dress and slowly pulled them down to the sides. You made it easy for him by awkwardly sliding your arms out, letting the fabric fall freely down to your waist.
Your breasts were completely exposed.
Wooyoung’s breath hitched for a moment. He cupped each breast with his hands, cradling their weight in admiration while his thumbs began rubbing your hardened nipples, pinching them with just enough pressure to send shocks of pleasure straight to your core.
"God... Your breasts drive me fucking crazy," he admitted with brutal honesty, leaning up to capture one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking hard while his free hand molded your other breast.
The combination of his mouth on your skin, the firmness of his hands, and the feeling of being completely exposed on top of him caused momentum to take control of your body. Almost unconsciously, you began grinding your pelvis in a circular motion against his hips, seeking relief for the unbearable ache between your legs.
Wooyoung let out a muted curse when he felt the direct friction of your core against the fabric of his pants.
"That's it... Move like that for me, baby," he growled, lifting his hips to meet every grind while his hands dropped back down to your ass to guide your rhythm.
Wooyoung squeezed your ass tightly to match the frantic pace of your hips, but the friction of the fabric against your soaked core was too much of a torture for both of you.
"I can't take it anymore, babe... I'm gonna fuck you," he growled, his voice completely broken, pupils wide and breath coming in ragged gasps.
Your hands rested on his shoulders as you pushed yourself up slightly on his lap, giving him just enough room. Without wasting a second, Wooyoung reached down to the belt and zipper of his pants, undoing them with desperate haste. With one hand he yanked his boxers down just enough to free himself, while with the other he gripped his hard dick firmly from the base.
He began stroking himself slowly right in front of you, sliding his hand up and down his shaft. He was long, thick, skin pulled taut with pulsing veins along the erection, the pink head glistening with the pre-cum already leaking out.
You couldn't tear your eyes away. The sheer sight of Wooyoung touching himself like that, so close to you, with his chest heaving heavily, had you completely entranced.
"Because you're gonna let me fuck you, right?" he blurted out without slowing his hand, staring at you with a mix of arrogance and pleading that sent shivers right through your skin.
You remained silent, far too hypnotized by the continuous movement of his hand and the size of his shaft to articulate a single word.
Wooyoung let out a low, raspy laugh at your lack of response. With his free hand, he reached up to your chin, cupping your face firmly yet gently to force your eyes directly into his.
"Do you want it inside you?" he asked, dropping his voice to a dark whisper that echoed throughout the car.
Without hesitating for even a second, you nodded while holding his burning gaze.
That simple answer completely shattered what little restraint he had left. Wooyoung yanked his pants and boxers all the way down to mid-thigh to set himself completely free. He grabbed your hips and guided you back down onto him.
The contact was direct, electric. Your soaked core settled over the hot, hard length of his dick, sending an instant shock through both of you.
"Fuck..." Wooyoung gasped out, filled with pure pleasure.
Without waiting for a command, you began grinding against him. You rocked up and down, back and forth, coating the entire length of his dick with your wetness, feeling the hardness of his shaft friction against your clitoris with every single motion.
Wooyoung could do nothing but tighten his hands on your hips, throwing his head back against the reclined seatback, letting out a husky moan as he surrendered completely to the sway of your hips.
"You're gonna make me come like this..." he murmured, forcing his head up to look down. His mouth was slightly open as he watched the tip of his dick appear and disappear between your lips, glistening with your slickness.
When the friction on the outside turned into unbearable torture and the need to fill you completely overwhelmed him, Wooyoung reacted. He gripped your hips firmly and lifted you up a few inches. With one hand, he cupped his shaft at the base and guided the rounded head straight to your entrance.
The second you felt the direct pressure against your opening, you didn't wait for him to push; you slowly sank yourself down onto him, swallowing his thickness inch by inch.
"Aah... God," Wooyoung groaned from deep in his chest, shutting his eyes tight as he stretched you completely.
A sharp, purely satisfied moan escaped you at the exact same time as you felt him fully inside you, filling you to the hilt in a perfect fit that left you both breathless.
Wooyoung opened his eyes, staring up at you with an intensity that gave you chills. His hands locked back onto your hips, his knuckles turning white from the strength of his grip.
"Don't move," he requested in a harsh whisper, taking a couple of seconds just to feel how your inner walls contracted frantically around him, trying to adjust to his size. "You're so tight you're gonna drive me insane..."
Bit by bit, you were the one to pick up the rhythm again. You planted your hands firmly against his chest, feeling the frantic pounding of his heart, and began lifting yourself up and sliding back down onto his dick. The confined space of the car, the scent of your wetness mingling with his cologne, and the feeling of having him buried deep inside you created a suffocating atmosphere.
It didn't take long for Wooyoung to take control. He cupped your ass with both hands, helping you rise and driving you back down forcefully with every thrust.
"That's it, baby..." he growled, lifting his hips off the seat to meet you halfway, making the penetration even deeper and louder. The wet slapping sound of your bodies colliding echoed throughout the car. "Look at you riding my dick... Like it's the only thing you want."
"Wooyoung... harder," you begged as the pleasure began to blur your vision.
Hearing your plea was the straw that broke the camel's back. Wooyoung adjusted the angle of his hips as much as the tight space allowed, thrusting upward with a relentless force that hit your most sensitive spot head-on. Every stroke made you see stars, forcing you to dig your nails into his shoulders as your moans grew increasingly unraveled.
He slid one of his hands up to your neck, holding you with just enough pressure while his other hand kept guiding your hips.
"Tell me whose pussy this is," he demanded, his voice raspy from the exertion, quickening the pace into a wild, uninterrupted pounding. "Tell me while I fuck you like this."
"Yours... It's yours, Wooyoung," you panted, on the verge of collapsing.
"That's what I like to hear," he smirked wickedly, locking his lips with yours in a hungry kiss that muffled your cries as he delivered the final strokes—the fastest and deepest ones yet.
The continuous friction on your clitoris and the intensity with which he filled you finally broke you. A shattering orgasm surged through your entire body, making you contract with brutal force around his dick, trapping him in a continuous spasm as you stifled a scream against his neck.
Feeling your pussy squeezing him like that during your climax caused Wooyoung to completely lose control. He grabbed your buttocks in desperation, gave three final, deep, brutal thrusts, and pulled his dick out of you with a swift, precise yank.
He held you firmly by the waist to keep you raised while his other hand wrapped around his shaft. Breathing wildly, eyes locked on you, he stroked himself at a frantic pace for two seconds before letting out a low roar from deep within his chest.
A thick, hot stream shot out, splattering directly across your buttocks and the skin of his own hands. Wooyoung kept stroking firmly as he finished coming, coating the back of your thighs and his palm in his semen before collapsing exhausted against the seatback.
Both of you remained silent, panting in the twilight of the vehicle, feeling the heat of the cabin and the frantic beating of your hearts.
Wooyoung ran one of his hands—the clean one—up your back, pulling you close to his chest to press a long, slow kiss against your temple.
"Tomorrow..." he husky-whispered, his voice raspy as he trailed the tip of his tongue along your neck. "Tomorrow when your roommate leaves, we aren't getting out of your bed all weekend."
The next morning, the sound of your roommate dragging her suitcase toward the front door confirmed that the apartment was finally, completely yours. You said goodbye with a calm smile, playing it off like you had a boring weekend of studying and resting ahead of you.
The moment the door closed, the silence of the apartment gave you goosebumps.
Not even twenty minutes had passed when you heard the sharp click of the lock. You hadn't even had time to change out of your loungewear when the front door swung open.
Wooyoung walked in without asking for permission. He had his own copy of your keys in hand, wearing a black hoodie with the hood down and carrying that dark, hungry gaze he no longer bothered to hide behind any jokes.
He slammed the door shut behind him, turning the lock with a metallic click that echoed throughout the entryway, locking his eyes on yours without saying a single word.
"Hey," you managed to say, standing frozen in the middle of the living room.
Wooyoung pulled his hoodie over his head and tossed it onto the floor, not caring where it landed. He advanced toward you with purposeful strides, trapping you against the doorway of your bedroom in under two seconds.
"In bed," he ordered, his voice raspy as he gripped your hip to pull your body flush against his. "We have more than forty-eight hours, and I plan to make up for every second we wasted pretending we weren't dying for this."
Wooyoung kicked the bedroom door shut with his foot and nudged you gently toward the center of the bed. There was no longer the suffocating rush of the car or the discomfort of the hallway; the space was warm, lit only by the soft glow filtering through the half-drawn blinds.
He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift motion and threw it to the floor. You followed suit, stripping off your loungewear sweatshirt and sweatpants until you were left in just your underwear. Wooyoung scanned you from head to toe with pupils blown wide, admiring every curve of your exposed body. He unbuttoned his pants with practiced speed, shedding everything until he was standing completely naked before you.
He climbed onto the bed, hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and slid them slowly down your legs, leaving you completely bare. The sight of your body laid out across the sheets drew a heavy sigh from his chest.
He grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you toward the edge of the mattress, spreading your legs wide open without hesitation before dropping to his knees, right between your thighs.
"I've been thinking about this for days," he husky-whispered, holding your hips firmly.
Without giving you time to react, he buried his face directly into your core.
The contact of his hot, wet mouth pulled an automatic gasp from your throat. Wooyoung wasn't gentle; he began taking long, sweeping licks from bottom to top across your pussy, lapping up your slickness from your entrance up to your clitoris. The feeling of his broad, firm tongue tracing over you, coupled with the pressure of his nose pressing right against your most sensitive spot, made you arch your back and dig your fingers into his messy hair.
"Wooyoung..." you moaned, pulling him closer.
He didn't stop. He worked the tip of his tongue inside you, alternating a slow, agonizing rhythm that made you tremble from head to toe. The wet sound of his mouth devouring you filled the room, growing faster and more relentless. He held your thighs pinned wide, ensuring you took every stroke of his mouth with nowhere to run.
The buildup of pleasure was so overwhelming that it took barely two minutes for you to reach the edge. Your entire body locked up and you came hard right into his mouth, squeezing his head against your pussy while letting out a long, broken moan.
Wooyoung swallowed every single drop of your orgasm, continuing with soft licks until the trembling in your legs began to ebb. When he finally raised his head, his mouth and chin were completely glistening with your wetness. He smirked triumphantly, running his tongue over his lips to savor you.
"Fuck... I knew you'd taste incredible," he murmured, staring at you with a wicked glint in his eyes as he pulled himself up onto the bed.
Wooyoung made a move to hover over you, but before he could, you reached out and planted your palm against his chest, bringing him to a sudden halt.
He paused, raising an eyebrow with an amused and confused expression.
"What is it, baby?"
"I want a taste of you too..." you said in an innocent whisper, dripping with intent.
That simple phrase caused a short circuit in Wooyoung’s brain. Seeing the girl he had grown up with, the one he had been secretly craving for years, asking to choke on his dick was too much. A shadow of pure lust darkened his eyes.
You gave his chest a soft push, and he let himself fall back onto the mattress without a shred of resistance. You dropped to your knees between his legs, admiring his fully erect dick, long and thick, pulsing against his stomach.
You leaned down and dragged your tongue from the base to the pink tip, tasting what was already leaking out of him. You looked up and locked your eyes directly onto his. Wooyoung couldn't tear his eyes away; he watched you with his mouth parted and his breath coming in ragged hitches while you took your sweet time.
You took it a step further and wrapped your lips around the head, taking him slowly until half his length was in your mouth. You began sucking in a steady rhythm, using your hand at the base to stroke what you couldn't swallow, bobbing your head while your tongue worked the top of his shaft.
"God... Fuck," Wooyoung growled, gripping the bedsheets tightly to keep himself from grabbing your hair and setting the pace.
You picked up the speed, swallowing more of his thickness and squeezing your lips tightly around him on every downstroke. The wet sound of the blowjob echoed throughout the room. Wooyoung began lifting his hips instinctively, trying to push deeper into your throat.
"Stop... Baby, stop for a second," he pleaded, his voice completely broken, feeling like he was going to lose control way too soon.
You ignored his order. You kept sucking faster, swirling your tongue around the head and increasing the suction.
"I said stop..." he insisted, gathering what strength he had left to place his hands on your cheeks and carefully pull his dick from your mouth.
He rested his forehead against yours while you both panted. Your mouth was glistening, and his chest was heaving as if he had just run a marathon.
"If you keep going like that, I'm gonna come in your mouth before we even start," he whispered against your lips with a wild smirk. "And no fucking way am I missing out on this."
Without giving you time to recover, he flipped you over onto your back. He grabbed your legs and spread them wide open.
"Spread your legs for me like the good girl you are," he ordered, his words raw and unfiltered.
He dragged the head of his dick along the cleft of your pussy from bottom to top, slathering himself in your replenished wetness and pulling a sigh from your lips. Then, without waiting any longer, he lined his shaft up at your entrance and sank all the way to the hilt in one single, deep thrust.
A simultaneous moan echoed through the bedroom.
Wooyoung held your legs wide open, keeping you completely exposed as he began fucking you mercilessly. The pace he set was wild, steady, and relentless. Every thrust slammed the headboard against the wall.
"Look how well your pussy swallows my dick..." he rasped out, watching your body take every stroke. "I could fuck you all day."
He let go of your legs to press his entire body against yours. He slid one hand up to your neck, holding you with just enough pressure while propping himself up on the mattress with the other to keep thrusting violently into you. He could feel your inner walls squeezing wildly around him with every penetration, trying to milk him dry.
"You're so tight... You're squeezing me like you want to drain every drop out of me," he growled near your ear, shifting his angle to hit your spot dead-on.
The rhythm didn't slacken. When the intensity became too much to handle, Wooyoung flipped you over onto all fours on the mattress. He grabbed your hips, pushed your head and chest down flat against the mattress, and took you from behind like an animal, showing no mercy to a body that was already exhausted from coming twice.
The sound of skin slapping against skin was deafening. You were spent, gasping his name into the mattress as you felt the brutal force with which he filled you over and over.
Knowing he was at his absolute limit, Wooyoung slowed down for a second, gripped your hip tightly to pin you against him, and delivered two deep, shattering thrusts that made you see stars.
"Can I come inside you?" he asked, his voice broken as he panted against your back.
Your arms trembled against the mattress, completely surrendered to the pleasure and exhaustion.
"Fill me up..." you answered without hesitation.
Hearing your permission completely undid him. Wooyoung buried himself to the base in one final, brutal thrust, pressed his chest against your back, and let out a raspy roar as he spilled deep inside you. You felt the thick, hot spurts of his semen filling the bottom of your pussy in violent pulses while he held you tight against his body, shaking all over until he collapsed exhausted on top of you.
for mature audiences only, minors will be stockaded in the town square
⟢ a/n: the long awaited... | this is NOT in any way, shape, or form meant to depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities, please and thank you.
⟢ summary: everyone knows choi san. the choi san. and the pornstar wonder boy just invited you to do a collab with him
⟢ word count: 35.7k
⟢ warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | masturbation (f), oral (m,f), p->v, unprotected sex (don't do that), squirting, edging, dirty talk, san makes a Crazy first impression, cowgirl/riding, bondage (f, not reader), slight yeosang x reader (mentioned), porn industry, blowjob, fingering, basically just everything you’d find in a porn
You love that you can wake up whenever you want, and that you have no set schedule to live by. The only deadlines you have to worry about are the ones you make for yourself. You love your beautiful apartment that you didn’t need anyone else’s help to get, and that it is so close to everything in the city. You love not worrying about money anymore. You get to live however you deem fit, taking life one day at a time. Everything in your life is by your own design. Honestly? It’s a dream.
And it’s easy money, giving men a fantasy for the night.
That’s what you sell, the idea of you. In everyday life, you don’t pout nearly as much as you do on camera, nor do you talk as sweetly to strangers. Some of them, though, aren’t strangers to you anymore. You recognize their usernames and their donations, especially the ones who have been fans of yours since you started, and the ones who pay for your highest tiered subscription. Twenty-five dollars a month just to jerk off to your exclusive content. Ah, men.
Your fanbase has grown and grown, skyrocketing somewhat recently when you convinced Yeosang, your hot guy friend, to join you in one of your videos. He’d worn a face mask to protect his identity, but it had been so obvious that he’s attractive even with it on. The black tank top left little to the imagination as your audience watched the muscles in his arms flex as his strong hands fingered you over and over again while he talked you through each orgasm. It was a rather simple video, with no actual sex. Regardless, that became one of your most viewed videos even though it was an exclusive, and the video that ended up paying for this apartment. Men and women alike scrambled to type in their credit card information to see it, boosting not only your ego, but your bank account as well. You gave Yeosang a decent sized chunk of your earnings, seeing as he was in the video too.
His whole face had turned red when you showed him the number of views, hiding behind his hands for good measure. He’s always been shy, it was a damn miracle you even got him to do it in the first place.
Since then, you’ve been living quite comfortably. Yeosang, too. Despite your efforts to convince him to create his own account for people to subscribe to, he’s maintained his ‘innocence’. However, recently he’s been asking you more and more about the details and dynamics of running an account like yours. You’re almost afraid to jinx it, like if you ask him outright if he’s thinking about it, he’ll forget the whole thing and never do it. Who are you to potentially accidentally deny the general paying population of your hot friend?
He may become even more popular than me, you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
You glance at your laptop, its camera trained at a specific angle towards your empty bed, and you peek at how many people are waiting for your livestream to start. Friday nights are always good to pull in larger crowds, and tonight is no different.
Nine hundred, and climbing.
Whoa.
You let out a low whistle at the number, the highest you’ve ever seen it just for the amount of people waiting. You’re not even due to start for another ten minutes. The number shifts around a couple times, losing some, and gaining more every minute. For the first time in a while, you start to feel a little self-conscious. This newfound fame is still just that: new. Even though you can’t see the audience you’ve gathered, you still feel that there are nine hundred pairs of eyes on you in your bedroom. There’s a nervous flutter in your chest that you can’t seem to shake off in the dwindling minutes before your stream begins.
With only two minutes left, you flit around your room, double checking how you look in your mirror, fixing your hair and makeup, and adjusting one of the straps to the lingerie you picked out for the evening. You sit prettily on the bed, taking a few moments before you start to center yourself, taking deep breaths and focusing on getting your head clear for tonight’s performance.
A ‘performance’ is basically all it is.
Your fingers hover over the trackpad of your laptop, counting down the seconds until there are none left, and you click “Go Live”.
As usual, you allow about ten seconds to go by, waiting for more to join once they get the notification that the stream has started. You read the sudden influx of chat, smiling when you see familiar usernames and knowing that rent will be covered for the next couple of months, just by their presence here. If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask for it. Someone in the chat will gladly donate however much you need – and then some – just for the chance to hear you read their username and thank them in your sweet voice.
So easy.
You saturate your greeting with honey, looking up into the laptop camera, eyes round and innocent.
“Hi, everyone,” you sing, giggling for all of the people vying for your attention. Each comment is sent with the hope that you’ll read it out. Some send tips already, small amounts mostly in the single digits, but there are a couple of doubles sent your way already. The tip counter in the upper corner of the screen increases steadily with each donation as they come. Compliments, questions, requests, and general niceties move up the screen in a constant staccato, making room for the next.
You lean back on your hands, pretending that you don’t know what you’re doing with this angle. The camera is angled down, providing an almost perfect POV shot for the audience. The fantasy begins immediately. You uncross your legs, feigning shyness.
“My day was okay, thank you,” you purr, knowing you just made someone nearly cream their pants by answering their question. “But… I’ve just been so lonely.”
You pout, right on cue to accompany your words. Instantly, the comment section floods with volunteers to cure you of your loneliness. Each one promises they can fix it, that they’ll be there for you, that they’ll never leave. It’s flattering, but none of them really mean it. Maybe they think they do, but again none of them really know you. You doubt most of them want to get to the very root of you and figure you out. No, most if not all just want to get into your pants to say that they have. Bragging rights.
[user75846] will yeo be joining you?
You read the comment aloud, shaking your head in quiet defeat. “No, it’s just me tonight.”
Some comments beg for his return, others are happy that it’s just you – the jealous types – and the rest are simply impatient to see your body. Your hand trails across the hem of your flimsy, sheer tank top you chose to wear for the evening. It leaves little to the imagination. The quiet pinging of more money being donated motivates you further. You sigh, looking up into the camera again.
“I’ve been so sad and lonely all day… you guys will help me, right?”
You pull your shirt down just a little more, showcasing your cleavage while keeping your face as innocent as possible. The comments spike again, but you don’t pay attention to them anymore. Your hand travels farther up to your mouth, fingers threatening to slip between your glossy lips. Twelve hundred people watch and wait. You hum, parting your lips slightly but not quite giving them the visual they want. Not yet. There’s no rush – not for you, at least. But one comment catches your eye because of its impatience.
[mntn3000]: start.
Very blunt. You don’t recognize the username as one of your regulars or subscribers. Whoever this is must be new. You’ve run and maintained a rather strict program with your subscribers when it comes to what they say in the live chat – politeness being one of the main rules. The lack of a ‘please’ to sweeten the demand nearly twists your face into something less angelic. Maybe whoever this user is is already close, unable to finish his sentence before he finishes himself. You bet once you take your shirt off he’ll blow his load and leave. It happens. For now, you’ll have fun with him. Teach this newcomer some manners.
You dip your fingers in, tongue peeking out to greet them into your mouth. The amount of comments slows just a little, silently telling you that some of your viewers are beginning to work themselves up along with you.
“Oh dear… ‘mntn3000’ just said ‘start’. No ‘please’? Will someone let him know how this works?” You keep your voice sugary, making sure everyone knows you aren’t hurt or being stuck-up, but that you’re rather amused at the comment.
Almost immediately, upon request, you see one of your regulars tag the newcomer in a message explaining the chat rules.
“Thank you, Woo,” you hum, lifting your shirt up even more, just for him, to show your gratitude. Your hand lingers near your breast, a small shudder running through your body as you graze your nipple.
‘Woo’, your nickname for him from his username, has become somewhat of an anonymous friend to you. He’s subscribed to your highest level tier and the VIP extras that you offer, including private shows and a group chat on Discord. He’s always the first to step in if someone says something out of line or disrespectful in any way. Your own personal guard dog.
Whoever he is, ‘mntn3000’ doesn’t say anything to Woo’s message.
Fourteen hundred people now.
You hum again, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You love the attention. And after doing a rough estimate in your head how much money you’ll make tonight, it just makes you want to put on an even better show.
“If you want something…” you purr, taking your shirt off completely. The comments erupt. “Ask nicely~” you tease, giggling to yourself.
A donation pops up immediately, the sum of which nearly makes you gape.
[mntn3000] has donated $500
Well… that’s certainly nice.
[mntn3000]: start, kitten
That’ll do it.
You’re quick to control your reaction to the generous donation. However, now you can’t help but feel like you’re performing under pressure. Some of your other patrons comment on it, but you’re on autopilot now.
One more deep breath in and your tight little shorts soon join your shirt on the floor.
You exhale audibly, turning the breath into a quiet moan as your hand continues to explore your own body. This time, you don’t tease when your fingers come back up to your mouth, accepting them immediately. Your free hand finds its way to your neglected chest, kneading the warm skin. It’s easy to pretend that the touch belongs to someone else’s manipulation.
It’s more than just a little confusing for you to immediately imagine it’s Yeosang, if not friendship-wise. The two of you have mutually agreed that you’re platonic. The collaboration was just… a friend helping a friend. Moreso than the views and money you earned from it, you’re thankful that there is no awkwardness between you two in the aftermath of it. When you had switched the camera off, he had even joked about graduating to another level of friendship, or something like that. You can’t remember exactly right now, you’re a bit preoccupied.
You pry your eyes open to read the chat, wanting to know if they’re enjoying the view so far.
[user92834]: i keep expecting yeo to show up ㅠㅠ i miss him
You whine, only able to nod once or twice. “I miss Yeo, too.”
Now you’re playing with fire. Multiple people in the chat remind you of their personal favorite parts of that video, giving you a much needed visual to get yourself off. Is it wrong? To use memories of your best friend ‘platonically’ overstimulating you for the better part of an hour? Maybe. You think you just need to get laid soon. Admittedly, it’s been rather long since you have been. Longer than most of your viewers will ever believe.
“I wish someone was here to help me,” you blink slowly into the camera, pouting again.
Your artificial patheticness is like a siren call to these men. It seems that every single one of your viewers suddenly comes alive, flooding the chat and your donations box all at once, each claiming that they should be the one to help you next time. That they have what it takes.
Except one.
You haven’t seen that ‘mntn3000’ guy’s username pop up since he sent the generous donation earlier. You wonder if he’s still watching. Maybe he’s embarrassed from earlier.
Whatever. He’s more likely just another background viewer. You probably won’t hear from him again.
Pushing the thought away, you start to finally trail your hand down your stomach to lightly circle your clit. Your hooded eyes flicker up to the screen, making sure everything’s in view. Satisfied with what you see, you resume touching yourself, continuing to loudly suck on your fingers for good measure.
[user82392] has donated $5
[user01743] has donated $20
[puppyu.u] has donated $50
[mars9843] has donated $50
[puppyu.u] has donated $100
You can’t help but smile, watching the silent competition between your viewers. Every time someone ups the amount they’re willing to drop on you, there’s dozens more who are willing to match it. You feel like you’re at auction. Who will win in the end? Usually, it’s one of your regulars, the ones with access to the private Discord, who come out on top. You’re betting on ‘puppyu.u’ tonight. He seems like he has something to prove.
No one’s quite willing to match ‘mntn3000’’s five hundred dollar starting offer just yet.
You get the feeling that everyone who regularly competes here silently agrees to just… ignore it. Everyone here spoils you, of course. But dropping five hundred dollars straight out the gate is a blatant power move that seems intent to undermine most of the others in here in one fell swoop.
But he’s quiet now. Maybe he spent all he had in one go. It happens sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes.
You’re not sure why you’re so hung up on this random user. You’re not used to being caught off guard like this. Closing your eyes so no one can see you roll them, you decide to not think about him anymore.
And you have just the thing for it.
While they spend money to achieve imagined dominance over the others in the chat, you reach just offscreen to grab your favorite dildo. It’s a fan-favorite as well. You scoot a little farther back on the bed, finally taking your fingers out of your mouth and replacing it with the head of the dildo. You sigh around it, like you’re content, grateful to have something in your mouth again. In reality, this is just so that it goes inside of you easier.
This time, you don’t make them wait.
The blunt head of the toy slips inside easily, and you fight to keep your head up so everyone can see your reaction to it. Halfway in, you give up. Head back, a visible shudder runs through your body that has the donation notifications ringing like crazy. Around this point in your little show, you’ll pay less and less attention to the chat, only focusing on the pleasure you’re creating for yourself.
But this time, something’s off.
No matter what you do, you can’t seem to find that specific angle that makes you cum. Not even playing with your clit seems to be any help. You try to relax, to see if maybe you’re too tense to feel anything, but it’s quite hard to relax when you’re this frustrated already. You’re not about to let the audience know that, but it’s discouraging. You don’t like to lie, but again, it’s all part of a performance. A fake, tailored show to sell a fantasy version of you. The one who always comes for whoever is watching, the one who is just so insatiable for each individual person watching.
At one point, you obtain false hope. You hit an angle that nearly does it for you, getting you closer than you were before to that sweet edge. It’s so close you can almost taste it, quickening your pulse and electrifying every vein in your body. There’s an ache in your wrist that is starting to become strained and uncomfortable, and your eyebrows furrow together to try and maybe will an orgasm into existence. And yet the payoff evades you completely.
You make a sharp, high-pitched noise out of frustration, which hopefully comes across as ecstacy instead. You’re not even enjoying it anymore, and your hand begins to slow down the pumps of the dildo as your fake moans increase again. There’s a trick you know to make your legs look like they’re realistically shaking from an orgasm – learned by ego-boosting one too many failed relationships and one night stands in the past – and you use it now.
Ugh.
The toy slips out of you, and you blearily toss it next to you on the bed. You let the audience watch the slowing rise and fall of your chest as your breaths even out.
What the fuck was that? You think to yourself, tilting your head back to hide your look of confusion. You’re kind of nervous to look at what people are saying in the chat, worried that they somehow caught onto the fact that you faked it. Without any proof, you conjure up images of cancellation, accusations, name-calling, every possible and yet unrealistic bad thing that could potentially happen.
Steeling yourself as best you can, you straighten and take a look at the chat.
All worries melt away at once as soon as you notice the heart emojis that flood the comment section. You’re not sure when this started, nor do you know who began the trend, but it has turned into something similar to applause at the end of a stream. A cute signal that they enjoyed the show. You smile at the screen, even laughing a little from relief. Time and time again, you’re proven to be loved no matter what.
There are a few more donations, although they’ve slowed down now that you’re done. You push your hair back, taking the time to slowly breathe in and out as you read the comments. Most of them tell you how hard you made them bust, which earns you a few more dollars. Still, there’s one username you’re stuck on that you’re not seeing. Not yet. You hope you’re not being obvious, waiting for it to reappear. Maybe with some manners and patience this time. Your eyes stay locked on the corner of the screen.
It’s after you blow a puff of air up towards your hair to move it out of your face that he reappears. Maybe your impatience was received loud and clear to him.
He only sends one word. Four letters.
[mntn3000]: cute
[mntn3000] has donated $1000
[mntn3000] has left the stream
Huh. Your spinning head almost registers that. A good thing about streaming is that you’re not exactly on a time limit. You can take as much time as you need to to calm down and regroup before addressing your audience again. Most will leave during this time, and that’s alright too. Your devoted viewers will stay, still seeking out your attention, praise, and appreciation. You always thank them for watching and of course, donating.
“There’s thousands of others you could have spent your time with tonight, so thank you for choosing me. I hope I made it worth it.”
In the middle of catching your breath, you manage a small grin into the camera. With a whispered, ‘goodnight’, and a kiss blown straight to your audience, you end the live and flop backwards on your bed. Another job well done. Another year of rent earned.
You force yourself to move after five minutes, showering, changing into new, comfier clothes and taking your makeup off in the bathroom until it’s just you in the mirror, and not the character. It’s not until you’re brushing your teeth that you realize how tired you are from that live, nearly drifting off with the toothbrush still in your mouth. Head about to hit the wall, you jerk back to stand upright and finish up quickly. You can practically hear your bed calling your name.
A text from Yeosang lights up your phone, halfway buried underneath a pillow. You pull it out and stand by your bed to read it.
[yeoyeo🌻]: another successful day at the office?
You can’t help but grin, burying yourself under the covers and texting him back quickly.
[y/n🌸]: another small fortune 🥱
[yeoyeo🌻]: still wanna hang out tomorrow?
[yeoyeo🌻]: or is the princess too tired
[y/n🌸]: stfu 😂
[y/n🌸]: yes pls i miss you :(
[yeoyeo🌻]: fine fine
[yeoyeo🌻]: i’ll be over at noon
[yeoyeo🌻]: you better be awake -.-
[y/n🌸]: goodnight pretty boy!
[yeoyeo🌻]: 🖕🏻
[yeoyeo🌻]: goodnight
Exiting the messages app, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your laptop from its perch, keen on transferring your earnings into your bank account as soon as possible. Luckily, the site you use makes it rather easy, just a click of a button, but this time around, you take a second to look at the number in the corner.
$14,601.
You whistle lowly at the sight of it. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars for thirty minutes of ‘work’. If you spend and save wisely, you’ll never have to set foot in an office for as long as you live.
Laptop set aside for the time being, you make a mental note to try and fit in some pilates tomorrow morning before Yeosang comes over. There are certain things you try to do to maintain your beauty and health, especially if the rewards look like this number. The sore muscles, cutting off sugar, and time spent trying to match your wing eyeliner are worth it. Almost… you do miss sugar quite a bit and are prone to cheat if tempted.
You quickly do the math in the calculator app to see how exponentially your bank account is about to grow once the transfer is complete. The total makes you smile ear to ear. Already, you’re thinking of more ideas, ways to keep everyone interested… but also… maybe a vacation. A first class flight to anywhere in the world seems more than desirable. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask Yeosang if he’d like to come too. The thought excites you, making you want to stay up and look at potential destinations.
Closing out of the calculator and banking apps, you’re just about to go on TikTok to look through your ‘dream vacay’ folder, when a notification directs your eyes upward. It’s from your email, but it's no promotional message from one of the many stores you shop at, nor is it spam.
The sender is simply ‘H.J Kim’, accompanied by three words in the subject line: ‘Exclusive Collaboration Offer’.
That certainly piques your interest, although it could just be a scam. Since you don’t have an agent, you’ve learned the hard way how to filter out those who just wish to take your hard-earned – well… earned – money away from you. When you were just starting out, you had to change numerous passwords more than once. You’re on a first-name-basis with your bank. Usually, you ignore emails like this, but something draws you to it. In what you can see of the preview, the sender doesn’t use more words than he has to, and the word choice seems rather official. Not as scammy as you’re used to.
Hesitant, but intrigued at what this offer could possibly entail, you click on it to see what the rest of the email says.
__________________________
Dear Miss Y/N,
I hope you are doing well. My name is Kim Hongjoong and I am a Talent Agent with Afterdark Productions, representing Choi San. We have been admiring your work for a while now, and would love to extend an offer for a collaboration between the two of you.
If accepted, I will be more than happy to disclose more information regarding the details of the shoot as well as beginning the process of arranging transportation and accommodation. Please feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, and I will respond as quickly as I can.
Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to the possibility of working together.
Just his name makes your thighs clench together under the plush comforter.
You make a noise somewhere between an exhalation and a laugh of disbelief. You reread it a couple more times, making sure you’re reading it correctly. There’s simply no way someone like Choi San knows you exist, and if he does, then how? Sure, you’re gaining popularity on cam platforms, but you didn’t think the industry on the other side of the coin would take notice. Maybe you’ve just been naive. It’s essentially the same thing but without a script or team involved. You do everything yourself — the lights, the camera, the action. The idea of even attempting what ‘Afterdark’ is known for is quite daunting. The thought of potentially meeting San even more so.
Everyone knows Choi San.
Somewhat of a respected micro-celebrity, he is currently revolutionizing the stigma around adult videos and being an adult actor. Breaking stereotypes, barriers, and backs. Impressive. It also helps that he has adonis-like features and a smile that can universally melt hearts. Very helpful, indeed.
It’s still not fully clicking that you’ve been offered a chance to work with him. Not yet. Most likely, it’ll hit you in the morning when you check your phone for the millionth time, making sure you didn’t just dream this all up in a post-orgasmic haze. Each time you reread it, the words stay the same. The name jumps out at you.
“Fuckin’ hell…” you whisper, pressing your palm to your mouth, reading the email over just one more time. That’s what you tell yourself anyway.
A collaboration… you assume that means on his turf. On his side of the industry, anyway. Your mouth dries. Are you even up for this?
A visual learner all your life, you find yourself opening a private browser and looking up a porn site you know has posted a couple of San’s videos. For research. Literally. Your thought process is to refresh your memory, imagine yourself in the actress’ place and discern whether or not you think you can handle what this offer entails. You pick the very first result after you enter his name in the search box, and settle back against your pillows, nervously biting your nails as the video begins.
It starts off like many others of its kind, a flashy montage of what’s to come – pun unfortunately intended – to entice viewers to keep watching. You skip ahead, like many do, not caring for whatever ‘plot’ has been thrown together to justify why these two hot people are sleeping together this time. Although, from the clips you do see as the video jumps ahead, inching closer to the real action, you have to admit he’s a decent actor. You stop skipping through it towards the end of their conversation, landing at the proposition and steadily rising scripted passion.
San steps closer to the actress, really getting into her space, and holding eye contact the whole time. The type that would make any girl melt. It’s not fiery or intimidating, no, it’s something much worse.
Desire.
He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, too focused on how his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer. What startles you is how… almost vulnerable he looks. Attentive. His head tilted down slightly, looking at her through his eyelashes, enchanting her so effortlessly as his hands gently wander. You cross an arm over your chest, eyes still fixated on the phone screen. You’re getting affected this much just watching him look at her like that? How the hell will you possibly be able to handle it in real life? The short answer is: you probably won’t.
Because the next time you skip, impatience gnawing at you to just see and know what he does, you’re thrown right into the fray.
The camera is almost cinematic, capturing precise angles where everything can be seen, the lighting low and sensual. They’re on a large bed, and San has taken the time to place one of the pillows under her head as well as her hips. A blindfold covers the actress’ eyes, but you can tell right away she’s been steadily crying through the fabric. Her hands tighten in his hair, his mouth latches onto one of her breasts, and his hand between her legs where quiet, constant, wet sounds are being drawn from. Still, he looks earnest. Genuine. Like he cares about her pleasure, and wants to make sure she’s getting just as much out of this experience as he will. At this point, you’re sure the script is thrown out the window, because the way he talks to her, so soft and sincere, praising her closer and closer to the edge, is something that no scriptwriter could come up with. No, this was pure San.
When she’s close, she tells him immediately and he changes nothing. He whispers the same praises, keeps his hand at the same pace and angle, reaching deep and curling up over and over, coaxing her body to release. The automated subtitles are no help, so you turn the volume up just a bit more, so you can hear him clearly. He must’ve been edging her because she starts begging him, trying to not pull his hair out at the roots. He simply covers her mouth with a free hand and leans over her, giving her permission to let go for him.
She shudders violently, thighs pressing into the sides of his body to prevent him from moving. He's not going anywhere, though. That infamous dimpled smile appears as he watches her come undone beneath him.
Your thighs clench. That’d be you.
His voice drifts languidly from your laptop speakers, melting your brain even further. “Yes, baby, that’s it. There you go… such a good girl.”
A girlish squeal gets stuck in your throat and you press your lips together to ensure you don’t let it out. You haven’t even said yes yet. There could be conditions you don’t agree with, payment arguments. He could be an asshole for all you know. Or this could all be a very elaborate and convincing scam.
Still, just in case it is real, and for the sake of ‘research’, you keep watching.
He kisses her chest, slowly making his way up her throat, her jaw, until he reaches her lips. He takes his sweet time, like he knows no one would dare look away. She sighs into his mouth, quiet whimpers leaving her every so often while he gently rubs her clit, just enough to keep her stimulated as she gets used to the feeling of being empty once again. You wonder what it’s like to kiss him. Your hands itch to reach for your phone and text Yeosang to tell him everything, however, you’re rather busy holding them still at the moment.
You appreciate how he doesn’t move onto the next thing immediately. Too many times have you seen other actors in his industry not giving their partner a bit of a breather after such an intense orgasm. Granted, some may like that, the overwhelming and constant stimulation, but the way San allows her to take her time, silently encourages her to follow the deeper rhythm of his breathing, and how he holds her hand and places slow, soft kisses all over her body, it all adds up to make you crave a slower pace. An intimate interaction like this.
San checks in with her quietly, and with a nod from her and another peck on the lips, he’s positioning himself between her legs. Stars in her eyes, she reaches down and strokes his length, whimpering softly. He gently brushes her hair back, admiring the look of nervous anticipation on her face. When he finally pushes inside, the two of them moan at the same time. Buried the way in, he smiles down at her before kissing her deeply. All dimples. A broken moan of his name tumbles from her lips, and you’re almost sure she didn’t realize she even said anything. She’s staring up at him like he’s a deity. Like he’s come down from heaven just for her. And she’s not acting.
One thing you know for sure: you’d be stupid to decline the offer.
You consider your mind made up.
Reluctantly exiting the video, saving it for later, you reopen your email app. Part of you wonders whether or not two in the morning is an appropriate time to email someone, but another part of you simply doesn’t care. It’ll be in Mr. Kim Hongjoong’s inbox first thing when he wakes up tomorrow. Your reply is enthusiastic yet professional, expressing appreciation for the offer in the first place. You thank him and San for taking notice of you and offer praise of his work as well. Wrapping up with the same politeness the original sender used, you sign off with your name. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a minute before adding a kiss emoji to the side of your name. Before you can second guess that choice, you send it off.
Needing to expel some of these nerves, you get up out of bed to scavenge your fridge for a well-past-midnight snack. Maybe yogurt or something. Standing in the white light of the fridge, you realize food may not be the best choice. Nothing jumps out at you to want at two o’clock in the morning, stomach already doing flips and tricks as it is. You settle on a mini carton of strawberry milk that you may or may not finish and walk back to bed a little too fast. Quicker than your usual leisurely pace.
You glance at your phone, laying face down on your bed like what you just watched on it made it shy. You want to text Yeosang so badly, to get his take on all of this, but you should let him sleep. Just because your sleep schedule is fucked doesn’t mean you have to ruin his as well. Your fingers absentmindedly tap the carton, only two sips deep in your drink. Hm.
You’re just starting to flirt with the idea of calling Yeosang anyway when you get a notification that effectively snaps you out of your thought spiral. Whoever or whatever it is has just unknowingly saved Yeosang’s REM cycle.
Not expecting a response so soon, your eyes widen a bit when you see that you’ve gotten a response back already. The quickness makes you a little wary. Scams usually are quick to respond back too.
Or, this ‘Hongjoong’ guy may have a sleep schedule quite like yours. After all, you responded rather quickly to his first email.
__________________________
Hi Miss Y/N,
Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.
The next steps in moving forward are rather simple. I will ask you to fill out a form – which I have linked to this e-mail – and send that at your earliest convenience. It is your basic questionnaire, really, and a chance for us to get to know you as well as your preferences for the shoot and scene.
After you have sent that and we go over it, I would like to meet with you – either in person or through video call – for both our safety and to finalize all arrangements. If you choose to meet in person, I will gladly bring along a female member of my team in an effort to make you feel more comfortable and safe.
As always, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Looking forward to hearing from you again.
‘We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.’
At first, you assumed he was just referencing the production company, but the specific use of it catches and holds your attention. Did San… ask for this collab to happen? Scrolling up to reread it again, the second line of the first e-mail you were sent strikes you: ‘We have been admiring your work for a while now…’ Not just the company. ‘We’ as in…
You swallow hard, setting the strawberry milk on your nightstand and shrinking back against your pillows again. Your phone burns your eyes in the dark, but you can’t stop reading this new message. There’s so much to unpack, even though it’s so straightforward. As of right now, in regards to meeting with Kim Hongjoong, you’re leaning towards just a video call. You’re still not quite totally convinced this isn’t an elaborate prank of some kind. Maybe a weird fan who wants this to happen but there’s no truth to it. But again… you don’t get that vibe. Not from how professional this seems. And a crazy fan wouldn’t offer to bring along another woman to make you feel more comfortable, he’d insist on meeting alone, under the guise of ‘protecting our privacy’.
And if it is real… then it is really happening. Moving forward, as the talent agent said, a collaboration in the early stages of planning. With Choi San.
Dammit, Yeosang, why can’t you be awake right now, you think and you huff dramatically, burying your face in your hands. He’ll certainly get an earful of all of this tomorrow afternoon.
But you decide you need to talk this through to somebody right now. Or some people.
Even though you just went live, you’re quick to open your Discord app, not even bothering to send a warning message to tell your exclusive members that you’re going live again. This time, just for them. You know they’ll come. They always do.
Once you have your laptop adjusted and headphones on, you’re ready to go. You click the microphone button and wait.
As expected, four of them join immediately. You regularly wonder how they’re all able to drop everything to watch you, no matter what time you go live. Two others join soon after, but they rarely comment in the chat. Silent viewers with open wallets are never unwelcome here.
“Hi guys! I have big news,” you smile into the camera, reading all the messages as they pop up.
[woogoesthere]: tell ussssssss!!!!!
[fix0nmi]: 👀?
[mars9843]: what is it cutie?
[puppyu.u]: hi baby why the secret meeting?? 👀
You take a minute to let them get all their guesses out, increasing their desperation to know what you’re hiding from them. Hopefully they’ll take the news well. As far as you can tell, none of them specifically come across as the parasocial jealous type, but you don’t know for certain. However, they seemed to handle your previous collab with Yeosang pretty well. That gives you some more confidence to confide in them about this.
“I’ve been offered to do a collab with someone from…” You pause before saying the company name for dramatic effect. “Afterdark.”
You’re a little surprised by the lack of comments right away, even worried a little. The thought of them being the parasocial jealous type crosses your mind again. Especially Woo. For a split second, you worry that you may have just angered your most loyal – and charitable – fans. The abrupt absence makes your heart plummet to your stomach.
It takes a full minute before anyone says anything. The longest minute of your whole life.
[woogoesthere]: are u telling us ur collabing w choi san?!!??!?!?! :0
Leave it to Woo to ease any worry you may have. You mask your relieved exhale under a light laugh.
“Should I be worried?” you half joke.
The immediate responses in the comments are overwhelming and collective:
[puppyu.u]: yes!!!!!!
[mars9843]: be afraid, be very afraid
[fix0nmi]: he’s gonna wreck you lmao
[fix0nmi]: icw to watch 🤪
[puppyu.u]: same 😭😏😭
[mars9843]: if you could barely handle yeo………
Your confident smile fades slightly, the corners of your mouth dropping back down as you read the multiple comments confirming what you’ve been wondering.
[woogoesthere]: guys stop ur gonna scare her ㅠㅠ
You try to laugh it off, looking off camera to grab your strawberry milk again. The action gives your hands something to do as worry begins to settle in your chest. Of course, Woo tries to ease your growing anxieties in the chat as you lift the bottle to your lips, eyes still scanning the messages… or rather, the warnings.
[puppyu.u]: well it’s true
[woogoesthere]: we should be encouraging tho >:(
[fix0nmi]: yeah or else she won’t do it 👀
[mars9843]: …
[mars9843]: y/n we’re just kiddinggggg
[fix0nmi]: you’ll be fine~! >:)
[woogoesthere]: -.-
[puppyu.u]: drink lots of water beforehand!
[woogoesthere]: you pervs are so annoying
“I can do it!” You try to regain your previous confidence.
A shroud of doubt begins to creep up over your shoulders, weighing you down. You’re able to hide it well, but you go quiet. Quieter than usual when you’re live. You don’t like silences that last too long. Unfortunately, your sudden silence is noticeable.
[puppyu.u]: babyyyyyy
[puppyu.u]: don’t listen to us we’re just teasing
[fix0nmi]: haha sorry baby
[mars9843]: you’re gonna be great, pretty girl
[fix0nmi]: can’t wait to see it ;)
[woogoesthere]: you ARE gonna be great
[woogoesthere]: choi san has no idea what an honor this is fr ㅠㅠ
That last message brings your smile back, tugging at the corners of your mouth until you give into it. ‘Woo’ is right. You have to remember who the fuck you are. Choi San sought you out specifically. There’s no need to be nervous about anything. It’s a different side of an industry that you’re already accustomed to, that’s all. You just have to adapt to however it operates for one day, and if you hate it, you’ll never have to do it again. And hey, you’ll get to say you’ve had that first and only experience with San of all people.
What a debut.
Your loyal fans must notice the confidence boost you’re experiencing because they’re quick to praise it in the chat.
[fix0nmi]: there she is :)
[woogoesthere]: ugh ur too cute
[puppyu.u]: fr that bastard has no idea how lucky he is ㅠㅠ
[mars9843]: he better be nice to u >:(
“Aww, you guys are so sweet,” you giggle softly, enjoying their attention and their praises. Your nerves are somewhat settled for the time being, though you can’t promise they won’t return once you open your eyes tomorrow morning. You wonder what Yeosang will say about it.
Leaning back against your headboard, you exhale deeply – maybe even adding a little hint of a whine-like noise to keep them entertained. ‘Pervs’, as ‘Woo’ put it, indeed. Not that you minded.
You hum to yourself and mention how much better they’ve made your night, and they eat it up.
“Thank you all for your love and support. Truly.”
You talk with them for a while longer, reciprocating their interest in you by asking them about their days and what they’re doing tomorrow. One of the silent viewers goes offline, and you can’t say that you blame them – no one should still be awake at this hour. You’re not sure if you’ll fall asleep quickly after you log off, so maybe that’s why you linger here and continue to talk with them. The minutes continue to go by and you start to feel guilty for keeping them all up this late. You know it’s their choice to stay and talk, but still. Odds are that at least one of them has to be up early tomorrow morning. They won’t leave until you do.
“I’m gonna go to bed, guys. Thank you for staying up and chatting with me.” You smile, watching all of their usernames simultaneously start typing again.
[mars9843]: goodnight cutie
[fix0nmi]: night babe ;)
[woogoesthere]: aww have a good night jagi <333
[puppyu.u]: sweet dreams baby <3
[puppyu.u]: <3333
You giggle, noticing ‘puppyu.u’’s competitiveness. Before ‘Woo’ can start a war to see how many 3’s they can add to their hearts, you quickly blow them all a kiss and end the call.
The silence of your apartment comes back quickly. Naturally, so do your racing thoughts. You place your laptop on your nightstand and crawl back under the covers, hoping against hope that you can smother your thoughts with your pillow.
Your phone vibrates against your thigh and you sneak a quick glance at it, half-expecting another e-mail, only to find a Venmo notification. It’s from Woo. Your exclusive members have the username of your ‘business’ Venmo account to send you money outside of cams, if they choose to. The message he attaches to the money makes you laugh: ‘i’m not losing to puppyu.u so easily. goodnight<333333333333’
Oh, man.
Make that $14,751 now.
You wince as you notice the time in the upper lefthand corner of your phone screen. Yeosang was very clear in his text: you better be awake by noon. Knowing how late you usually sleep until, it’s not looking good. Hoping it will help, you set several alarms on your phone. Surely one of them will wake you up. You switch your phone off, refusing to check it again until tomorrow morning.
Without your phone to distract you though, all you do is replay that video you watched of San and that actress. The memory of it projects against your eyelids and you can’t look away. A shiver runs through you when you picture how his hands held her with such gentle strength, and the addictive moans he wasn’t afraid to let out. The same thought echoes until you finally fall asleep: that’ll be you.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
Against all odds, and seven missed alarms later, you manage to wake up – albeit, exhausted – around ten o’clock. Plenty of time before Yeosang is due to come over.
After you eat breakfast, you decide to spend the morning researching San, watching more of his videos, listening to interviews, stalking his Instagram, anything you can find to get to know him better. Or at least, to get a better grasp on what you should expect. Hongjoong never clarified if it was going to be just you and him at this future meeting or you, him, and San. You want to be ready.
From what you can find, you’ve come to the tentative conclusion that he appears smart, funny, well-traveled, and handsome. That last one is a given to anyone with eyes, though. It seems like he could’ve succeeded in any field of his choosing, but his candor is notoriously present and blunt whenever he gets asked why he’s gone into this profession: “I like sex. I happen to be good at it, so why not?”
You get it. Easy money.
His Instagram is mostly pictures of him in exotic locations. It seems you and him have dream destinations in mind for the future as well. Nine million followers strong – and counting – he has his comments turned off to them on every post. There is also no message option anywhere. He completely cuts himself off from being accessible. A part of you is a little jealous, but at the same time you like the closeness with your fans. It feels more intimate, it gives you a reason to be punctual and come back and care about what you do. Although some, like that ‘mntn3000’ guy, can sometimes be quite rude in the chat. You have your chat open to all, and your public Instagram is the complete opposite of San’s. Thirst traps, a highlight on your profile for song recommendations, and the ability to comment and message you. Not that you answer most of them. Most are gross, obnoxious, frankly misogynistic men who choose the most unhinged, disgusting words to express their… ‘desires’. You’re thankful for Woo and fans like him. Still… you find yourself wondering if you should limit your accessibility as well. Your popularity is rising. Maybe now is the time.
You still find yourself looking for everything and anything that has to do with him online. Everyone wants to be him or be with him. One of those guys. Of course.
You rest your head in your hands, groaning to no one in particular. After all the women he’s been with, you hope you can meet his expectations. A worthy costar. Same industry, different department.
By the time Yeosang knocks on your door at a quarter past noon, your mind is so far away he has to call you to let him in.
“Hey, sorry.” You apologize, ushering him in and locking the door behind him.
“I knew you wouldn’t be awake,” he grins, making himself right at home on your couch. “Is going live for thirty minutes really all it takes to make you catatonic the rest of the day?”
You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder as you sit down next to him. “Shut up, it’s not because of that. Well… not exactly.”
Yeosang quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on, then. What’s up?”
You pull out your phone, ready to show him the evidence to back up what you’re about to say. The original email is still unchanged as you glance down at it, which is encouraging. Another reminder that you didn’t make this all up in your head. It didn’t happen in a dream, there’s hard evidence staring you in the face.
Well, now or never. Out with it.
“I, um… I got an offer to work with Choi San.” Your voice toes the line between excitement and cautious optimism. If anyone’s opinion matters to you at all, it’s Yeosang’s.
Yeosang’s eyebrows raise at the name. “Like… the Choi San?”
“The Choi San, yes.” You nod, confirming it’s exactly who he’s thinking about.
Handing your phone over to him, email ready to be read by a fresh pair of eyes, you watch his reactions closely. You find yourself biting the side of your thumb nail, a habit you keep thinking you’ve grown out of, only to be proven wrong in times like these.
Yeosang’s face is serious as he reads it. You can tell he’s searching for any indication of this being a scam first and foremost before he digests the rest of it. Finding no blatant or well-hidden tricks, he pays more attention to the general message.
“Are you gonna do it?” He asks, handing your phone back to you. His voice holds some reservation to it that you clearly pick up on. You take no offense, though. He’s just worried about you. It’s more… public than you’re used to.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, answering him honestly. “I’ve done my research on him and already sent them an email back saying that I was interested and wanted to know more, but… do you think I should?”
You truly value his opinion. Yeosang has been such a good friend to you for the past couple of years. The two of you had met in your second year of college and became fast friends. When you moved to the city, about a year after he did, he helped you find your first apartment, got you a job, and checked in on you to make sure you knew you had a friend here. He made everything easier. He still does.
Yeosang shrugs, “Doesn’t matter what I think. If you feel confident about doing it, then go for it. If something is telling you to not do it, then don’t.”
He makes it sound so easy. Should it be?
“Yeah, but… I value your opinion.” You mumble, not outwardly saying what you’re thinking. But he reads your mind anyway.
“Y/N, it’s not gonna change my view of you if you decide to do this. If I had a problem with my best friend being a mattress actress, I would’ve told you a long time ago. Y’know… before I collabed with you.”
At this, you can’t help but laugh, knowing he’s right. A pressure you didn’t realize was weighing on you is alleviated off your shoulders, making you feel lighter. He grins as you let out a small sigh of relief, glad that he eased some of your worries. Now, to tease you about it. As best friends do.
“I’m just worried that you won’t survive the experience,” Yeosang says dramatically, covering his eyes with his arm and sneaking a smile your way.
“Stop, what do you mean?” You push him, playfully.
“You said you researched him, right?”
You nod, wondering where he’s going with this. Is there something you’ve missed? You feel like you’re the only one left out of a well-known inside joke. You try to think back to the videos you’ve seen of him. Sure, you haven’t watched his whole filmography, but nevertheless, you’d like to believe you know roughly what to expect of him when the day comes.
“Did you watch the ones he’s done for ‘Fantasy’?” Yeosang smirks.
You blink, trying to remember if you did. To be totally honest, you weren’t really paying much attention to which company was posting the videos. Just that San was in them.
“I don’t know… maybe?”
Yeosang shakes his head, already seeming to know the answer. “You’d know if you did,” he says definitively. “If you wanna know what he’s really capable of, watch some of those.”
You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, frustrated that no one will just tell you what they’re talking about. You only have one guess, that it may be due to the fact that you’ve only ever been with two guys before. They each taught you the basics, but everything you bring to your livestreams, you learned all on your own. And it’s not like you’re clueless when it comes to the different kinds of sexual encounters one can experience. You’ve watched porn before – hell, you do a type of it for a living. So why does everyone keep underestimating you? What does San possibly do to make everyone think you won’t survive him?
A part of you kind of doesn’t want to know. You don’t need to give your creeping self-doubt any more ammo. It had taken you a long time to beat it far back enough in your mind for it to not invade every time you hit a little snag in life. A resurgence would make you question everything, make you back out of this quickly. You don’t want that. No, you’re determined even more so now to see this through. To prove everyone wrong. More importantly, though, to prove it to yourself.
“Sounds like he sought you out though,” Yeosang says. His words almost make you jolt. Not only do they pull you out of another spiral, it reinforces something you were thinking in passing last night. Maybe you aren’t reading too much into it after all. “Kinda seems like this Hongjoong guy and San are fans of yours.”
You hide your face in your hands and groan, making Yeosang laugh at your rare display of shyness. It’s frustratingly unclear to you why the idea of him watching your content makes your cheeks burn so much. You’re obviously comfortable with people seeing your body and earning a profit from it, but you like the anonymity of the people watching. You simply don’t want to know. Perhaps it’s because he’s about to not be a faceless viewer anymore. Rather, a colleague of sorts.
Also, in a way, you tend to view cam’ing as more… intimate than porn. The sole focus of the audience is on you. No fake plot, no costar, no distractions. Just you, reading the chat, and existing and getting off in real time.
“Sounds like it,” you agree. “I must’ve done something he likes to pique his interest.”
Yeosang shrugs, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Or he saw the collab and this is all just an elaborate ruse to get to me.”
You’re grateful to relax enough to laugh again. “Oh, I bet.” You say, playing along. Though, part of you does wonder for a brief moment if San had watched the collab and that’s why he thought you’d be a good partner for his next project. It’s definitely plausible.
“So,” Yeosang leans back against the couch, crossing his legs, “what do you have to do now?”
Remembering the phone in your hand, you look down at it, visualizing that attachment Hongjoong sent you. Yet to be opened. “There’s a form I have to fill out, I think it’s some kind of consent form.”
He nods, “Yeah, that’d make sense.”
There’s a small silence between you that follows as he watches you stare down at your phone. You have the most recent email pulled up, analyzing it again. He watches you bite the inside of your cheek, a habit you have that comes up when you’re thinking a little too hard about something.
“Do you want me to go through it with you?” He asks, though he thinks he knows what you’ll say.
“No, I’ll do it myself. It’s gonna ask like… in depth questions,” you insinuate, almost shyly.
Yeosang doesn’t press you on it, which you appreciate. But you know he’s probably thinking there’s not much he doesn’t know about you. After all, he was fingering you to high heaven in front of a camera only a week ago. Still, he doesn’t push your privacy or your boundaries. It’s one of the many things that makes you feel safe with him.
Breezing past the subject, knowing you probably need to relieve some stress, he picks up one of the gaming controllers on your coffee table.
“Rematch?” He asks, referring to a game of Mario Kart fairly won by you, though his opinion of the event is rather different. Something to do with you ‘innocently’ bumping into him, causing him to almost drop his controller, and giving you the lead in the race. His win streak is much cleaner than yours.
“You’re on,” you agree, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as he scoots away from you on the couch.
There’ll be no ‘accidents’ this time. But maybe you’ll think of something.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
The rest of the day is light.
Little by little, the weight of uncertainty you feel fades into the background, instead transforming into unserious frustration as Yeosang beats you in Mario Kart six times in a row. You win the seventh round, but you highly suspect he let you. He had several speed boosts and red shells that would just disappear from his screen the next time you looked, wondering when he would fire one of those shells at you.
You order in, opting to stay inside and just be lazy today, and the two of you eat on the couch. When the sun eventually starts to set late in the afternoon, he takes a nap while you scroll on your phone, half-watching a K-Drama on your TV. Neither of you bring up San or the form still laying in wait in your inbox again. He wakes up around eight o’clock, yawning and stretching as he gets up to go home – he mentions that he promised his friend he’d go out with him tonight. Though he extends the offer, and part of you does want to go, you decide to be responsible and take the night to go through the form with a somewhat clearer mind than last night or this morning.
Almost as soon as Yeosang leaves, you’re back in bed and pulling everything up on your laptop. The attached file on the most recent email takes just a second to load, bringing you to a Google Form sheet, ready to be completed.
But first, you think about what he said about San. You want to know what everyone else already seems to. At least one video. Just for research purposes again.
In another tab on incognito mode, you hesitantly type in the search for ‘choi san redfantasy’ and bite the inside of your cheek as the page loads. The typical ads pop up before you’re able to see any actual content, avoiding the scams and viruses with practiced ease. Trying to not overthink it, you just click on the first video that comes up. In fact, you barely look at the title. It’s in all caps, a bunch of buzzwords and tags jammed together to get as many eyes on it as possible, but his name is always put first. That’s the seller right there. Audiences are in the market for Choi San.
There is no plot this time, at least none that you can discern. The lighting is darker, as well as the mood. There’s less build up, the action begins almost straight away after the company logo screen fades away.
Your chest constricts at the very first shot. A rather pretty woman, on her knees in the middle of a room. Her bare knees dig into the plush carpet beneath her and she looks up at the man in front of her, tilting her head up with a firm hand in her hair.
San.
“...didn’t you?” You barely hear him say to her, and you quickly turn up the volume on your laptop, rewinding the video ten seconds to hear the full question.
“You misbehaved today, didn't you?” He purrs, nodding once to give her permission to speak.
“Yes, sir.” She replies, obediently.
The hand in her hair is taken away, and yet she never takes her eyes off of him. You imagine that’s probably what she was instructed to do… but you’re starting to think a director wasn’t involved in this. Everything seems more intimate, less corporate. Like San just set up a camera in this expensive looking hotel room. A step above amateur porn.
San stalks around her, humming to himself as if sizing her up. The camera cuts to a slightly different angle, farther away, and you only just now realize that her hands are tied behind her back. The multiple static angles all but confirm your theory: everything in this video is by San’s design.
He then sits down on a rather large, black leather couch, facing her. The camera caresses his features, letting you see every detail of the tailored suit he’s wearing that fits him perfectly. The suit itself is probably more expensive than five of those couches. Wordlessly, he beckons her closer with two of his fingers. He almost looks bored. But you think bored is the wrong word… curious actually. Like he’s just taking his time, waiting for her to act first. His tempo is carefully curated and well-calculated. He reacts, even though he knows they’re both just enacting what this company wants to see. Like this isn’t just for the cameras. Every scene is serious to him, and yet it doesn’t come across as corny or too much. You wonder why he doesn’t go into acting. He seems more than able to convince people of real chemistry between himself and his co-star each and every time. And with a face card like his, you doubt he would’ve had many rejections.
Then again, you imagine it’d be rather hard to make a smooth transition into becoming a serious and respected actor after being in adult films.
She manages to make her way over to him, knelt in between his knees, waiting for further instruction. And he makes her wait. The camera cuts a couple of times, documenting the power dynamic from several angles. It’s evident a long time has passed because she keeps shifting her weight, knees never quite finding relief on the floor.
A small whimper leaves her, and it earns her a sharp smack across the cheek. You gasp at the same time she does, not expecting that at all for an action so miniscule. In almost the same motion, San’s grip returns to her hair, pulling her closer to his clothed crotch.
“Be actually useful for once, baby.” He says sweetly, like he’s praising instead of degrading her. “Earn it.”
You can tell she’s holding back another whimper, trying to be good. San guides her further down, until her face is pressed into the front seam of his tailored pants, and holds her there until she realizes what he wants her to do. Rather pathetically, she mouths at his dick through the fabric. He’s not even hard yet. No, he fully expects her to do all the work for him, including getting him ready.
While she’s… busy, he lazily takes off his watch, setting it aside and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just above his elbows. You’ve seen him naked about a dozen times in these types of videos, and for some reason, this is what sends an uncontrollable shiver down your spine. Almost on sight, you feel how wet you’ve become, panties starting to cling to you.
His face is stony, refusing to give away what he’s thinking. That’s privileged information. But the harder he gets, the more motivated she becomes, tilting her head to the side to attempt to wrap her lips around his length as best she can. And yet, he never says anything. No praise, no degradation. He lets her actions speak for themselves, lets it burrow into her mind on her own. Pathetic. She doesn’t bother looking up at him for reassurance anymore. He’s not giving her anything to work with.
Abruptly, he yanks her back by the hair, just to see if she makes a noise. She does. Another sharp crack against her cheek makes you squeeze your thighs together. She takes three more slaps until he stops, his hands leave her entirely and one grips himself through his pants, sighing like he’s bored. Or rather, disappointed. From what you can discern from the print against his pants, he’s only half-hard.
“You don’t want it that badly, do you?” He asks like he’s already decided her answer.
Frantically, she shakes her head, denying his assumption. “No, no sir, I do want it. Please, I want it so–”
Unfortunately for her, his mind is already made up.
San rises from the couch, picking her up into his arms easily, like she weighed nothing. The camera cuts, now facing the bed, and San lays her down onto it. He then goes about tying her down to it, on all-fours. The girl’s face presses into the pillows, muffling any noise. San ties her ankles to the bedposts, leaving her spread open for him with no chance of closing herself off. Fully exposed, at his mercy. Or lack thereof.
San then loosens his tie before wrapping it around her throat, fashioning it into a makeshift collar and leash. He tugs it once, testing its reliability. Satisfied, he lets it go for the time being, no doubt planning on using it later. For now, he stalks around the bed, admiring his work, and assessing the best way to deal with the girl tied up in front of him.
“Since you couldn’t wait and just had to touch yourself before you came to me, I’m gonna teach you some patience.”
As if the last few times weren’t enough, an involuntary sound escapes from her lips. Soon enough, her ass is red and bruised, San’s hand quick to punish her for making noise.
“Be quiet,” he reminds sternly, “or you get nothing.”
That’s good motivation. Suddenly, you feel like you can’t make a single noise either.
He disappears offscreen for a while, the camera cutting a few times to capture how the anticipation makes the girl very nervous and wet at the same time. Impatient, you skip ahead thirty seconds and San pops back into frame, holding something.
There’s no warning, no telling her what it is. Only he and the audience (you) know. He holds the vibrator wand right up to her pussy, mere centimetres away and pauses. Her toes curl in an effort to stop the rest of her body from squirming. He waits for any minuscule movement. It’s when she cranes her neck, attempting to look back to see what he’s doing, that he turns it onto the highest setting and presses it against her clit in one swift motion.
Poor thing gasps and screams at the intense, unexpected vibrations, earning her another brutal round of spanks.
“Shhh,” he hushes her softly, “be quiet. Don’t move.”
Your pulse stutters, eyes wider than they were before, and your hand starts to drift downwards, underneath your clothes, to find your clit. The relief is immediate, like scratching an itch. You work yourself up alongside her, trying to follow San’s instructions yourself. Breaths turning shallow, you press your lips together to keep from making any sounds. If you really wanted to immerse and challenge yourself, you’d grab your own vibrator from the drawer, but you can’t tear your gaze from the screen. You don’t want to miss anything, and you feel like pausing it would disrupt the experience. If this is potentially what’s in store for you, and she doesn’t get a break, you don’t get one either.
Her fists tighten and grab at nothing, still bound behind her back. You can tell she’s losing the fight to follow through with his instructions. San notices this too. He moves the vibrator up and down, grinding the head of it harder on her clit before moving it away again. You have no idea how she’s managing to hold on.
San hears it the same time you do, not a gasp or a noise per se, but a hitch of her breath, just audible enough to hear. At the same time, her legs begin to shake, out of her control to stop them from doing so.
He takes the vibrator away, switching it off.
Her toes curl again, burying her face deeper into the pillows to silence any sounds. Your hand stops dead, even though all you want to do is keep circling your clit.
“See what I have to do?” He sighs, trailing the head of the vibrator down the back of her thighs. “If you just waited for me, I wouldn’t have to do this. I wouldn’t have to waste my time teaching you to be patient.”
Damn. Have you ever heard him talk to any of his scene partners like this? The San from the first video you watched as part of your ‘research’ seems a million miles away. A completely different person.
Eventually, the vibrator is returned to her clit, humming at full power. You resume your own administrations as well. San kneads her ass with his free hand, eyes glued to her body, waiting for her to fuck up. Any excuse to take the pleasure away again. An excuse comes when she’s forced back onto the brink of an orgasm, and he switches the toy off again. But he keeps it pressed against her pussy. On instinct, her hips rock backwards, trying to chase the pleasure, and you can’t help but groan out of frustration as you take your hand away. This time, he doesn’t administer spanks to her ass, but right on her pussy. And she can’t help the high-pitched yelp that leaps from her throat. San spanks her pussy until she shuts up. You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until the uncomfortable pressure in your throat forces you to inhale deeply.
The girl shudders after the last smack but doesn’t move or say a word. You’re both rooting for her and secretly hoping she’ll screw up again, just to see what he does. Also, you want to see if he’ll actually fuck her.
Rather impatiently, you skip ahead a couple of minutes, needing to know if he’s the type to punish by leaving her empty the whole time. It takes only a second for the video to buffer and when it does, you see that he’s added another toy, keeping it pressed deep into her pussy, right up to the very base of it. The vibrator never leaves her clit. The skin of her ass is bright red and already bruising in some areas. It looks rather painful. She’s moaning but it’s muffled and barely audible – you can imagine San gagged her in some way to keep her quiet after failing over and over again. Possibly with his tie. He doesn’t move the toy at all, instead just forcing her to feel the thickness and weight of it buried deep inside of her, no doubt pressing right up against her g-spot.
If he denies her again in this state, you’ll really be scared of him.
And that, he does.
This time, she wails through her gag, her whole body locking up and then quickly deflating in defeat. But the time in between denials is no longer merciful. San waits maybe ten seconds before starting again, placing the vibrator back where it belongs.
God damn– you think, becoming wetter as your fingers find your clit again, your own pleasure building. The poor girl shrieks into the pillows, incoherently pleading with him to stop. Instead of listening to her cries, San taps the vibrator against her pussy, driving her – and you – even more crazy.
“I’m doing you a favor,” he says flatly, not caring that she’s essentially begging for mercy. “You should be apologizing for making me waste my time to teach you basic manners.”
Your mouth drops open at that. He’s so mean, and yet if you were in her position – which you may be soon – you’re pretty sure you’d start apologizing right away. But she can’t, at least not properly. Not with a gag in her mouth and her face half-pressed into the pillows. You imagine after being denied what must be nearing ten orgasms at this point, her mind is also going a bit blank.
He presses the vibrator harder against her, making her back arch. “Tell me how sorry you are and maybe I’ll stop.”
That grabs her attention. Muffled, garbled, and barely full sentences immediately tumble from her lips, on the off chance that he’ll take pity on her and stop this edging torture. Her body shudders violently, cutting off her voice entirely.
Rather surprisingly, he does let up. Both toys disappear at once, and he watches her body collapse onto the bed, burning muscles unable to hold herself up any longer. But he doesn’t let the relief stay for long. His hand twists in her hair, yanking her upright until her back is against his chest. With the other, he rips the gag out – which was, in fact, his tie.
“I’ll give you one chance to tell me the truth,” he mutters in her ear, his other hand lingering dangerously close to her sore mound. “Did you just cum without permission? Yes or no.”
A sob tears itself from her throat, knowing that she’s been caught.
San pulls her hair again, causing her to yelp again. “Answer me,” he hisses, “and don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Y-yes, sir,” she whimpers, honest.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t let her go. He just makes her stay with that feeling of guilt, the shame of being caught, and the foreboding knowledge that he’s going to have to punish her again. With his free hand, he runs the pads of his fingers through her soaking wet folds, collecting the evidence for himself. To humiliate her even further, he shoves those fingers into her mouth, pressing on her tongue. She whines around them, which he rewards by shoving his fingers deeper, into her throat. Tears flow down her face and neck, already utterly fucked out and he hasn’t even touched her himself, really. He’s still fully clothed, for fuck’s sake.
San sighs, thinking aloud, “What should I do with you, hm?”
Busy choking and spluttering around the intrusion in her throat, she can’t answer him at all. He probably doesn’t want an answer, though. You have a feeling he knows exactly what he’s going to do with her.
Once again, you’re proven correct when he lets her go and pulls his fingers out of her mouth. He watches her gasp for air and cough violently for a fleeting moment of relative peace before dragging her back towards the edge of the bed.
“Fucking useless slut…” he mutters to himself, just audible enough for her to hear. “You wanna cum so bad? Fine.”
A new toy is brought into frame, this one looking more daunting than the other two. You can tell it’s one of those two-for-one types, and your heart goes out to her. It slips inside of her easily, though it’s thicker than the previous dildo, all but confirming once again that she did cum without his permission. This time, there’s no mystery or question about what he’s going to do to her. She knows. The knowing is almost worse than the not-knowing.
He switches it on without much ceremony. She does her best to not move or make a sound, but another orgasm builds rapidly. Too fast, too soon.
For seven straight orgasms, he just watches her. He doesn’t even touch himself even though you can tell he’s hard beneath those tailored pants. Her pleas fall on deaf ears, like he’s not even in the room. You’ve barely managed to keep up with her, coaxing two weak orgasms from your own body with just your fingers and already feeling exhausted. Fuck, maybe everyone’s right…
You tap the screen to see how much more of the video is left, and your eyebrows raise when you see there’s still ten more minutes. You decide to skim through, just curious if he ever does let her have his cock.
Spoiler alert: he does not.
In reality, the only thing he changes is that he jerks himself off, getting off on her screams and pleas for him to turn the toy off, that she’s had enough. For the last two orgasms he forces her through, he adds his thumb to her clit, circling it mercilessly.
“One more, come on. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To cum?”
Through her tears and scratchy voice, she warbles, “W-want– wanted you t-to fuck me…”
He only laughs at her, and it sends such a blow to your psyche.
“Did you really think I would?”
She screams again, mixing with her sobs and choked groans as the final orgasm rips through her worn-out body. The only act of kindness he gives her is removing the toy and kissing her back, in between her shoulder blades.
He takes his time to untie her ankles from the bedposts, his hands smoothing over the skin where the rope had been. Wrecked and twitching, she curls into a ball on the bed, pussy sore and swollen. Knowing this, San drags her back down towards the foot of the bed, forcing her legs apart again. Her hands weakly try to push him away, but he ducks down, licking a near-fatal stripe up her folds, sucking harshly on her clit. Voice basically gone, her scream is broken and breathy.
That’s a habit he has, you’ve noticed. Or maybe just a signature thing. No matter what, when he’s done with his scene partner, he gives their pussy one final lick. As if he’s sealing the deal. Something they’ll feel long after the cameras stop rolling, along with the ache of their inner walls.
San chuckles, patting her inner thigh with his hand before pulling her onto the floor, back down onto her knees. He doesn't say anything more as he jerks off in front of her, aiming his cock right at her face. He lets her suck on it, much to your surprise, and he eventually comes. Some of it inside of her mouth, and the rest, he smears across her face. The final act of humiliation for her.
You slam your laptop shut.
Holy. Shit.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
You come back to the forms after a cold shower and a half an hour long pacing session in your living room.
With a somewhat clearer head, you decide to take it one question at a time.
At first glance, you can’t help but feel like you’re filling out the forms you’d normally get in a doctor’s office. It covers everything. Height, weight, age, consent for Afterdark to inquire upon certain medical history to ensure the prevention of any diseases or illnesses, and payment information. On the next page, it goes deeper, and you almost want to take another lap before you dive in and check off any of the boxes.
There’s a checklist of kinks, each one with a box to check if any are ‘hard no’s’ or ‘hard yesses’for you. You gotta hand it to Afterdark, they’re very thorough. At the very top, just above this checklist, you notice two more boxes simply labelled ‘Rough’ and ‘Gentle’.
Ah.
This must be the reason that every video with San feels different. Not just because of whatever context they provide in the beginning of the video, but he never exactly has the same go-to way of fucking every time. Except of course, that parting move he’s so accustomed to doing. With some women, he takes it very slow, gentle and caring with lots of praise, and with others, like the one you just watched, he is ruthless and mean, denying orgasms and spanking them until their skin turns an alarming shade of red. They’ve tailored their own experience with him. That makes you feel a bit better actually, gives you more of a sense of control. You’re not just walking into this with no say in what he does to you, nor will you be blindsided. Actually, you’ll have a pretty good idea, and no worries that he’ll do something you’re uncomfortable with.
The empty boxes still taunt you. Which version of him do you want?
After much consideration, you eventually let fate decide. You pick both options. Rough and gentle. Let’s see what he does with that.
Moving on, forcing yourself to breathe slower, you continue down the list of kinks. Again, it’s very thorough, even asking for locations that you’d be okay filming in. You check off ‘hard no’ on most, if not all of the ‘bodily fluids’ section of the kink list. All except creampies, crying, and squirting. You wonder if he’ll be able to make you do that. If so, you don’t want to discourage him from it. You’re okay with toys, cunnilingus, fingers in your mouth, body worship, hair pulling, hickies, clothed sex, light bondage, the traffic light system, and spanking, just to name a few. You also mean to check off a hard ‘yes’ to aftercare. Aftercare is a non-negotiable for you. One of your exes never did that for you, and it’s been a dealbreaker ever since you got out of that relationship. You dislike feeling used after-the-fact. Discarded. It’s an ugly shock to your system, one that you’d like to avoid if possible.
Double checking everything on this page, you go to the third and final page.
In the top half, there’s an interactive calendar so you can input dates and times when you’re free to do the shoot. You’re pretty much free all the time, if you’re being honest. You just have a family wedding to go to in late August, two months from now. Though you’d rather do the shoot later in the day, not wanting to risk sleeping through it with your terrible sleep schedule. So, you mark every afternoon and evening as ‘available’.
In the bottom half of the page, there’s just one last question, accompanied by a text box: ‘Tell us about yourself, and what we can do to better tailor this experience for you.’
You have to admit, you weren’t expecting this kind of question to come up. They want to know about you? Tailor this opportunity for you?
Huh.
Your mind goes blank at first. What could they possibly want to know? What are they actually looking for? There’s really no telling.
Slowly, you type out a vague summary of where you grew up, why you started doing cam-shows, and that your favorite color is purple. When it comes to writing about how they can improve on this collaboration, your fingers hover over the keyboard. Stuck. You could just straight up not say anything, or just put ‘N/A’. But your inner professional tells you to answer it. You search yourself, wondering if there’s anything that would make you feel a little more comfortable while there. You assume they’ll provide a robe for you, or something to cover you up when you’re not filming, but you’ve also heard how ‘fucking cold’ porn sets are kept. Not exactly wanting to show up with a blanket from home, you decide that’ll be your one request.
‘If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like a blanket while on set. Thank you! :)’
You double – triple – check each form page, making sure you didn’t accidentally check something off or type in your information wrong. After you confirm that everything is accurate and spelled correctly, you click on the ‘submit’ button. A ‘thank you’ screen pops up, and you quickly exit the tab, not wanting to think about it anymore. It’s out of your hands now.
But speaking of the hands it’s now in, you have to set up a meeting time with this Kim Hongjoong guy.
Right. Okay, onto the next step.
In a new email, you type out all the dates and times you’re free – you may have made yourself sound busier than you actually are – and send it off to him. Glad to have everything done, you flop back against your pillows and groan. You replay all the images you’ve seen. All the things he’s done to multiple women.
You wonder what on earth he’ll do with you.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
It’s the next day that ends up being the meeting day.
You opt for a virtual meeting, reasoning that it’ll probably be quicker and easier for both of you. From what it sounds like, being employed by Afterdark and Choi San keeps Hongjoong rather busy.
You do your makeup and hair, wanting to look presentable. It’s the shirt that gives you a headache. You’re rather unsure how professional you should look. What does someone wear to a meeting like this? You look down at your chest, trying to mentally calculate how much of it is appropriate to show, and choosing a shirt based on that. Eventually, you just pick a nice triangle lace cami. Kim Hongjoong will just have to excuse the fact that it’s summer and hot in your apartment in the afternoons. You’ve been meaning to figure out how the air conditioning works. It’s hi-tech in a way that truly baffles you. You’ll get Yeosang to figure it out the next time he comes over.
Moving your laptop into the kitchen for the natural light, you try to shake the nerves out of your hands as you walk around the kitchen island. You grab a cold water from the fridge and drink half of it before forcing yourself to sit down. The meeting is set for two-thirty, just a few minutes away. You kind of want to scream into the pillows on your couch. This will be the final stage until you actually go through with this whole collaboration. The last buffer until it happens.
In the upper right hand corner, you see an email notification from Hongjoong, providing you with a link to a video chatroom. For a full sixty seconds, you pretend you haven’t seen it yet. But when that minute is up, and you have to be an adult, you take one more sip of water before clicking on the link and sneaking a glance at yourself in the reflection of your laptop as the camera loads.
There’s a small boop sound from your laptop, signalling that the call has been connected and you brace yourself for a scam. Your hand hovers above the trackpad, ready to hit ‘end call’ at a moment’s notice. When his camera finally loads, you breathe a little easier. He’s in an office based on context clues of what you can see around him, and he’s rather handsome himself. That admittedly takes you aback. He has short, dark brown hair, round eyes, and a charming smile once he sees you on his screen. He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose, and leans forward in his seat a little bit.
“Miss Y/N! It’s so nice to talk with you today, how are you?”
“I’m doing well, thank you. Are you the one I’ve been emailing?” You ask when he doesn’t introduce himself by name. You just want to clarify.
He laughs to break any awkward tension, “Yes, that’s me. My apologies, I’m San’s agent, Kim Hongjoong.”
“Okay, good.” You smile back, shoulders relaxing a little more. His dress shirt makes you feel a bit… well, underdressed, but when you notice that the top two buttons are undone, it makes you feel a bit better. He’s clearly not going for ultra-professional right now either. Off camera, in your lap, you play with one of your rings, giving your nervous hands something to do.
Unexpectedly, the first ten minutes are spent just making small-talk, especially after finding out you and him grew up around the same area. He asks you how you like the city, and you find yourself telling him about how much you love it, and that you never want to leave. Turns out he shares the same sentiment. It’s starting to feel less like a rigid job interview and more like a casual interaction. Nothing to be afraid of. You feel much more comfortable than you did ten minutes ago, that’s for sure.
Hongjoong eventually looks over to the side, where his desktop computer is and starts clicking around, the light reflecting off of his glasses. And you realize that it’s time to actually start talking about the collab. You fix your earring for no real reason, just to give yourself something to do.
“So, I’ve received the forms you completed – thank you for doing that, by the way – and I was wondering if you have any questions for me about them?”
You pause before you answer. Now’s the time to ask, and with the right person, too. Humming to fill the silence, you think about a good question to ask first.
Hongjoong picks up his phone when it starts vibrating incessantly, and looks at the screen for only a few seconds before placing it face down on his desk. Someone must be trying to get in touch with him, but he doesn’t bother with replying right now. You know it must be important, whatever it is, so you appreciate him keeping you the center of his attention right now.
“I guess I’ve been wondering about… like… if I check off certain boxes will we do all of that? Or…?”
Very eloquent.
Luckily, he doesn’t seem to think anything of it. “Oh, no, no. Usually what happens is we take a look at it, figure out which ones would work best together and with you and San, and take it from there. It’s just to see what you’re comfortable with and to see which direction you want this collab to go.”
That makes sense. And now that you think about it, what if someone puts a ‘hard yes’ next to something that San would check off as a ‘hard no’, obviously they wouldn’t do it. It’s a mutual agreement. They find the things that match between you two and take it from there.
“Actually,” Hongjoong says with a small grin, still scrolling through the forms on his computer. “You two are pretty similar. It wasn’t hard to match up.”
You hear it but your brain doesn’t process what it means yet.
“Oh, really?” You say, not knowing how else to respond.
Hongjoong just hums, nodding once. He pushes his glasses up again before turning back to you.
“Regardless of that, though, I wanted to also let you know that if at any point during the shoot you feel uncomfortable and want to leave, you can, and you will be paid in full, no questions asked. Obviously though, if you leave before, or if you don’t show up at all, we can’t really do anything to pay you. We have this in place because we don’t want you to feel trapped once the scene starts. Does that make sense?”
You nod quickly, “Yes, it does.”
“Perfect,” he says. “So, with your schedule that you sent me, if you’re okay with it, we can set the date relatively soon. Is this coming Friday, at six o’clock alright?”
Friday. As in… Friday, two days from now, Friday? Your mouth dries instantly. Two days from now. Is he not busy? You assumed this wouldn’t happen for a couple of weeks, at least. A delusional voice in your head tells you that maybe he cleared his schedule to be with you sooner rather than later. Oh, sure. Yeah, right.
Still, it baffles you.
And yet you hear yourself say, “Friday’s good for me!”
Well, now it has to be whether you’re ready or not. Your hands itch for your phone, needing to text Yeosang immediately, even though you know he’ll probably find your dilemma rather entertaining. You also need to book a waxing appointment and get your nails done ASAP. Maybe even a facial, too.
Fucking hell, Y/N, the things you get yourself into.
Hongjoong lights up, quickly typing something on his keyboard, scrunching his nose once or twice to keep his glasses from moving down again. A few more clicks of his mouse, and it’s done.
“Okay, perfect. I’ve got you booked for six o’clock this Friday. If you could email me where you’d like our driver to pick you up, that’d be great. Otherwise, do you have any other questions, comments, or concerns for me?”
Your lips part. Driver? Someone from Afterdark is going to bring you to the set? Your right hand grips your phone, turning it over and preparing to call Yeosang as soon as you hang up with Hongjoong.
Fuck, okay. Sure, why not?
“Oh, um–” you suddenly remember one thing he hasn’t mentioned at all. “Is there a script? Like, do I need to know any lines before…?”
Hongjoong answers right away, “Ah, this shoot will be unscripted. It’ll feel more natural that way.”
More natural. Your heart feels like a brick in your chest. To be honest though, you’re really glad there is no script. However, a rubric would be helpful as well. You nod, acknowledging that information. So it really will be like the videos you watched. That’s the experience you’ll be getting.
“Okay, cool,” you reply, desperately needing another drink of water for your dry mouth. “Thank you.”
Hongjoong smiles politely. “No problem. Alright, well if everything sounds good, we’ll see you on Friday! Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.”
We.
Again, he’s probably just talking about the company, but Yeosang’s words from yesterday are stuck in your head. Your secret delusions and Yeosang’s smart mouth are never a good mix.
“See you Friday! Thank you.” You reply politely, the very picture of calmness and professionalism.
And once the call disconnects, you’re slamming your laptop shut and calling Yeosang to tell him everything.
He picks up on the third ring, yawning and obviously not fully awake just yet. You forgot he went out with his friend last night. Still, it’s definitely time for him to be awake now.
As expected, once you rattle off every detail of the call you were just on, Yeosang laughs his ass off.
“Oh man,” he says with an audible sigh, “you’re fucked.”
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
Part of you wishes that the driver will somehow get hopelessly lost on the way to the set.
You’re sure he’s been there multiple times before, but you pray for a random dose of amnesia anyway. It’s not that you’re second-guessing the decision – not at all – you just weren’t expecting the day to come so soon. It’s crazy how forty-eight hours now seems like no time at all. You shake out your hands as you step out of the car, and look up at the building. It’s rather unassuming, blending seamlessly into the numerous ones around it. Nothing about it screams that this is where adult films are produced. Not that you really expected it to.
The driver parks with the hazards on, and gets out as well to let you into the building via a keycard. You thank him quietly as he holds the door open for you. He must’ve told you his name, but for the life of you, you cannot remember it. He points you in the direction of the elevators, and confirms that he’ll see you later to drive you home.
Then, you’re alone. He gets back into the car and drives it around the building, to an underground parking garage you assume.
You take a deep breath in the lobby, finding the elevators quickly and starting towards them. Hongjoong said the shoot is on the eighth floor, so you press the ‘8’ button once in the elevator car.
As soon as the doors shut, the silence and gravity of what you’re there to do settles in immediately. You force yourself to take a deep breath, really dragging out how long you exhale to try and ease your heart rate. The second floor comes and goes, as does the third. But the higher you climb, the tighter your throat becomes. On floor five, you think of bailing. Past the sixth floor, already almost there, Yeosang’s custom text ringtone startles you. Glad to distract yourself, you immediately read the text.
[yeoyeo🌻]: don’t let him intimidate you, you’re the one he wanted for this
[yeoyeo🌻]: remember he’s literally just some guy and you’ll be fine
[yeoyeo🌻]: you’re gonna be great :)
You can’t help but smile, and you roll your shoulders back to stand taller. He’s right, as always. Choi San is many things, but at the end of the day, he is just a man. You have to view this as a very elaborate hookup rather than a career opportunity, just to calm your nervous system if anything else.
When the elevator doors open on the eighth floor, someone is already waiting for you on the other side.
Hongjoong.
You don’t realize until this moment how relieved you are to see a somewhat familiar face.
“Miss Y/N,” he greets, extending his hand out for you to shake, “it’s so nice to meet you in person.”
You smile warmly, returning the greeting and hoping that your handshake is up to par. Before you have time to possibly overthink such a small thing, he asks if you need anything.
“Oh, um…no, not at the moment, thank you.”
“Of course,” he nods once. “If you do need something at any time, please let one of us know.”
You assume that ‘one of us’ probably means the team of people you’re about to meet and be fucked in front of. Forcing another deep breath, you manage another easy smile and thank him again.
He motions for you to follow him, and you have to look down at your feet to get them to move. You beg yourself inwardly to get a grip and soon.
Hongjoong leads you down a long hallway, deeper into the Afterdark floorplan. You’re surprised by how nice it smells in here, like someone is burning incense somewhere. The walls are decorated with miscellaneous artworks and some awards, as well as headshots of the actors and actresses signed with them. At the end of the hallway, there are two huge double doors, and he pulls one of them open with ease, letting you walk into the gigantic room it reveals first.
When you finally enter the large set, you can instantly feel the drastic temperature drop. Just as you had been led to believe, they must have turned down the thermostat in the room, making it several degrees colder than the early summer weather outside, and you rub your arms to try and warm them up.
No more than five seconds after the two of you enter, Hongjoong is suddenly flanked by a young woman with a clipboard. A sticky note flutters as she keeps pace with you and him, and she mutters something to him that you can’t hear.
“No, that’s alright,” he says quietly, “I think he’s good without her right now, but double check for me, please.”
You keep your eyes on the floor, pretending that you didn’t hear anything, but your mind races. Who is ‘she’, you wonder? As quickly as she appeared, the assistant scurries off, past the camera and lighting crews, and over countless miscellaneous wires with practiced ease.
While the two of you walk, you’re rather relieved that no one is staring at you as you go by. You’re just another actress to them, and right now, that’s okay with you. And luckily, the path Hongjoong is taking you on is relatively close to the perimeter of the set, so you’re not exactly the center of attention right now. A part of the wall juts out, making it look like a closet, but once he opens the door, you see it’s a dressing room. Complete with vanity lights, a full bathroom, and a brand new silk robe for you to wear on set, hanging up by the door. There’s also a small, plush couch up against the wall next to the vanity that you have a feeling you will be texting Yeosang on as soon as you’re left alone.
“This is all yours for the day,” Hongjoong says, “someone will come around in a minute to help with hair and makeup, and then we’ll start.”
You nod, swallowing down as much of your anxiety as possible.
“Will you, um–” you ask before you can stop yourself. Hongjoong pauses before he heads out, waiting expectantly for you to finish your question. “Are you gonna be on set the whole time?”
His expression changes into something akin to surprise. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting you to ask anything about himself. He doesn’t answer straight away, taking a moment to try and understand why you’re asking that. You can almost see the professional within him piecing together a corporate response in real time.
“We try to limit how many people are in the room to those who are absolutely necessary. I usually stay close in case someone needs me. Why?”
You wave your hand, trying to brush everything off. “No, I was just wondering. Nevermind. Thank you!”
Hongjoong looks like he’s about to say something, but ultimately leaves you alone, gently closing the door behind him.
As soon as it clicks shut, you’re moving to sit on the couch, ready to call Yeosang, but you stop yourself at the last minute. You’re acting crazy, you do realize that. And you have a sneaking suspicion he’ll tell you the exact same thing.
Instead, to satiate your need to call him, you reread his last three texts of encouragement.
Lock in. Remember who the hell you are. Now.
You put on some ego-boosting music so you’re not just getting ready in silence, and quickly undress before hair and makeup arrive. Folded neatly on the vanity, is your outfit for the scene. A tight, cropped black lace cami, and a plaid mini skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination.
No panties anywhere in sight. No bra, either. Total and easy access.
Your lower stomach starts to heat up, already envisioning how San might go about undressing you. From what you’ve seen, rarely does he let girls undress themselves. No, he wants to be the one to do it. Like he’s unwrapping a present, just for him.
After you throw your hoodie onto the couch with the rest of your pile of clothes, you turn back to the vanity, noticing a small army of mini water bottles lined up and waiting for you if need be. You’re almost positive that if you look in the vanity drawer, you’ll find snacks as well. Maybe you can get used to this. But you’ll wait to give your final verdict after the job you came here to do is done. It’s best to wait.
You’re only waiting for a minute or two before there’s a light knock on the door. Two women wearing face masks enter the dressing room, bowing to you and introducing themselves. You try to remember their names – Youngmi, you think is the makeup artist, and Rina, the hair stylist – but your brain is elsewhere, working double overtime to try to calm you down. Luckily, the Britney Spears song in the background is doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Youngmi and Rina are quick, and good at what they do. Rina makes you laugh by scrunching her nose and singing along to the song as she brushes through your hair. Youngmi only rolls her eyes at her colleague, but it’s all in good fun.
By the time they’re done, you no longer feel like the scared outsider that doesn’t look the part. They made you even more beautiful.
There she is, you think as you admire yourself in the mirror.
You sigh in relief, feeling much more confident than before. And not only that, you feel ready. It’s not the easiest thing to turn your nervousness into excitement, but somehow, this time, you manage to do it. So many girls would kill to be in your shoes right now – or, in your skirt. You had kicked your shoes off next to the couch.
You make sure to thank Youngmi and Rina before they bring you out, not knowing if you’ll have a chance once you’re on set. With one more spritz of your perfume that you brought with you from home, and a last minute decision to bring the robe out with you, you finally follow them out towards the set. Just mere feet from where you’ll be… ‘performing’.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
As you’re walking and looking around, you start to wonder if San makes it a point to surround himself with equally beautiful people. Or maybe it’s a company requirement.
Sure, maybe Hongjoong, Youngmi, and Rina are just coincidences, but even the camera and lighting crew are arguably just as pretty. Speaking of Hongjoong, you look around, noting that he isn’t anywhere to be found at the moment. He’s probably with his talent right now.
When you’re introduced to the director, you almost say something about it. Everyone in this room is attractive. Conventionally, unconventionally, and everything in between.
“Hello Ms. Y/L/N, I’m Choi Jongho, I’ll be directing you two today.” He introduces himself, bowing politely and shaking your hand.
You bow your head and reply, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”
He offers you a chair to sit in while everyone waits for San to come out, and you take it gratefully. You don’t know how long he’ll be. Youngmi and Rina excuse themselves, heading off in the other direction together, walking with purpose. You drape your robe across the back of it, unsure if you’re supposed to give it to someone or take it with you onto the set.
“Would you like anything to drink, Ms. Y/L/N?” The director asks, noticing that you don’t have anything with you ready for any breaks.
Director Choi only refers to you as “Ms. Y/L/N.” Very professional, cordial even. Makes you feel like more than an object his star is about to fuck on screen. You’re being treated with real respect, which is a pleasant surprise in comparison to what you had expected from the porn industry.
You look around yourself, only just now realizing you didn’t take one of those mini water bottles from your dressing room like you originally planned.
“A water, please–” you start to say. As soon as the last syllable of ‘water’ is spoken, an assistant hands you one. You didn’t even see him standing next to you, much less holding a bottle. Then again, you aren’t really paying attention to whether or not people are carrying water bottles or not right now. Damn.
You try to warm up your arms by rubbing them, now that you’re virtually wearing next to nothing in this arctic-like room. Only a few moments later, a blanket is handed over to you wordlessly by another assistant, a quick bow following the action. You tilt your head down as a responding bow, shocked. You didn’t even have to say anything.
Is this what San is used to? Everything given to him at once, on a silver platter with no questions asked? You imagine every single thing handed to him accompanied by hopeful, round eyes looking at him for his approval, only to be ignored or thanked by a small nod. You’re so used to doing everything yourself, this type of treatment makes you feel… stuck up – and every fiber of your being screams at you to make sure none of the staff think that of you.
“San will be out in just a moment,” Director Choi says, but his heart isn't in it. He checks his watch and glances towards San's dressing room with nearly well-concealed impatience. It is rather late in the day, and you only just now think about the possibility that they may have been here since early morning. Maybe even shooting San with someone else. It’s entirely possible. You can imagine they all just want to get this last one done and go home. None of them would ever let that show, though. No, you have to admit everyone here is quite professional.
Your hands absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you zone out. At least for now, you can zone out with a blanket wrapped around you.
The air shifts just moments later.
It’s like a sudden pressure drop where everything goes still for only a second. That one second feels like a lifetime as you turn your head to see what’s going on. Though, in your heart you know exactly what it is without needing to look – it’s the arrival of the main attraction.
From where you are, leaned back in your chair, you can’t see him too well. He’s surrounded by a team that moves with him like a clump of cells, or maybe in this case, like sheep in a herd. Finishing touchups by Youngmi and Rina, an assistant by his side carrying a medium-sized leather bag and holding his coffee cup when San hands it to him, and other miscellaneous characters that float around the star. Everyone wants to be near him in some way.
Hongjoong stays at the back of it all, looking down at his phone as he walks.
The team finally disperses one by one, revealing more of Choi San to your eyes.
When San finally gets close enough to you, whatever air in your lungs is promptly sucker-punched out of you at the sight of his refreshing beauty. It’s even more pronounced in real life. You’re not entirely sure how to greet him, or what he’s used to. But you remember Yeosang’s encouragement again: He’s just a guy. Don’t let him intimidate you. You’re gonna be great.
He’s just a guy. You’ve dealt with those before. It’s just that this guy in particular is crafted like an apology for creating men in the first place. And a couple of days ago, you were watching him make a girl cry on a bed that looks quite similar to the one on set right now.
You stand up, smoothing down your skirt and standing still, hands clasped in front of you.
“Hey Jongho, sorry we’re late,” Hongjoong calls over, pocketing his phone. He side-eyes San, who bows his head in apology as he walks.
The director waves him off, clearly used to his tardiness and the apologies that follow. “It’s alright,” he says, “you’re actually earlier than we thought you’d be.”
“We need to go over the rules with her,” San says once he’s close enough to you and the director, sounding tired. You wonder if he just woke up. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he speaks, and catches you looking. You don’t see it when you quickly avert your eyes, but his whole demeanor changes. No longer lethargic, he becomes awake and alert at the sight of you.
Director Choi nods and grabs a clipboard from his own director’s chair. You nervously roll your ankle, hearing it crack quietly in the interim.
“Right, number one rule is consent. If at any time you want to stop, just say the word. No questions asked. Second rule is to keep all details of this shoot private, including any conversations with each other,” At this, Director Choi looks up at you. “Third rule is health and safety, but Hongjoong said you covered that with him, and when you sent in the form,” Again, his eyes flick up from the clipboard to glance at you. “Fourth is to be respectful at all times – there’s no room for ego here. And lastly, don’t look at the camera unless told to, otherwise keep the illusion.”
You go over each rule in your head before you forget. Consent, confidentiality, feel safe, be respectful, and don’t look at the camera. Simple enough. You keep your chin up, and shoulders back. You force that annoying inner voice of self-doubt to mumble the lyrics of the Britney song from earlier.
“Follow these, and we’ll have a great shoot day. We should be ready to go in just a few minutes.” Director Choi offers both of you a quick smile before he turns on his heel and walks towards the cameraman, getting everything finalized and ready to shoot. Your heart pounds underneath the robe. Hongjoong steps closer to San, muttering something to him before walking back towards the dressing room.
You’re just about to walk over to the set to get used to it and be ready to go whenever they are, when San steps right in front of you, effectively blocking the way.
Out of the blue, he crowds your personal space, and you have to really dig deep to make yourself stay put. Right where you stand. Don’t be intimidated. At the end of the day, you’re both here to do the same job, and both of you are successful in your own rights. He’s just a man, you remind yourself again.
San towers over you, his shirt opened just enough for you to see his perfectly toned and tan chest right in your face. You keep eye contact, even though all you want to do is look away. It’s much easier to be confident and independent on your own turf, but here on his, it’s more of a challenge. Still, you stand your ground. You have to if he’s going to keep sizing you up. He has been since he walked out here.
“You didn’t cum,” he says matter-of-factly.
…
Pardon? Did you hear him right? What an odd opening line to say to someone you’re meeting for the first time.
Your lips part and eyebrows furrow, rather startled. “I’m sorry?”
There’s no way you heard him correctly.
“Your last liveshow,” he shrugs. “Am I right?”
Well… yes, but– how did–?
Is this how he starts all of his conversations? With a personal accusation?
“That’s alright. We all do it sometimes,” he shrugs again. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear and lowers his voice. “You’re not gonna fake it with me, though,” he says, and the terrifying thing is that he sounds genuine. It’s not unfounded cockiness or meaningless bravado. He means what he says in all seriousness. He says it like you shouldn’t worry about it. Like it’s a promise.
And you exhibit monumental self-control to not clench your thighs together at this moment.
Your mind races at a million miles a minute. That, you didn’t expect. Isn’t that all that porn is? Fake, overblown orgasms for the girls and endless, guaranteed pleasure regardless for the men? You’re starting to think that this may not be the case with him. You think about the videos you watched as part of your ‘research’, and a bolt of electricity zips up your spine. You never doubted that he made his costars feel good, but you know full well that a lot of porn actresses pretend that they’ve cum with their scene partner. But with him, now you know: all of the girls weren’t acting. In fact, you really doubt that they needed to fake just how good he made them feel. The last video you watched of him comes back to mind… you wonder if he’ll make you scream like that too.
Unsure of how to respond to that, you just take a small step backwards to put some distance between you two. Room to think and process if possible. But he’s relentless, and he seems to like getting up in people’s space. A mischievous glint in his eye tells you that he’s enjoying this particular encounter especially. He’s definitely the type of guy that finds it fun to make girls flustered or nervous.
You swallow hard.
“You sound rather confident,” you note, still trying your best to hold eye contact with him. To not back down or seem weak. You’re sure it’s not working. You just refuse to melt all over him, or suck up to him. Especially not when he’s the one who asked you here.
Surprisingly, he smirks. “Shouldn’t I be? I’ve done my research, I know you probably have done yours as well.”
So you were right. Yeosang, too. San has seen your content before. And not only has he seen your previous works, he was right there with you, watching your last live. Your speculation sounds a lot like confirmation now.
“Does that make you nervous, kitten?” He whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side like he’s about to kiss you. He could if he just leaned forward a couple more inches.
A little, you admit to yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest like it’s trying to push you forward, to get closer to him. At this proximity, you can easily smell his cologne and dammit, somehow it makes him even more attractive. You’re almost getting annoyed with him now. Surely there should be at least one flaw to him, something that makes him human like the rest of the world.
“No,” you lie, “I’m fine.” Arms crossed. Eyes up.
San laughs lightly, and his smile instantly becomes the most attractive thing about him so far, even if it’s at your own expense.
“If you say so,” he shrugs again.
He doesn’t move away from you, though. Not right away. His gaze lingers on your lips for a fleeting moment, which gives you just enough time to come up with a question of your own.
“So, you’re a fan of mine?”
At that, he pauses. But, he doesn’t shy away from it.
“Yeah,” he says, owning up to it immediately. He straightens back up as you nod, taking in the information. “Have been for a while now. I saw that other collab you did with that guy, it was really fuckin’ hot.”
You make a mental note to let Yeosang know he was right about that, as well. To be honest, you weren’t expecting the compliment.
“I’m– glad you liked it,” you say, clearing your throat in the middle of the sentence. You’re doing pretty well on the outside despite your nervousness beginning to rise again on the inside. San studies you once more, like he’s searching for something on you that only he can see. You step back again and turn your face away from him as you take a sip from your water bottle, taking your time to screw the cap back on.
“Mm… you’re even prettier in real life,” he says, so casually it almost doesn’t register.
You nearly swallow wrong, just barely avoiding choking on the small amount of water still left in your mouth. Luckily, Director Choi calls over to you two to start making your way onto set.
The final few minutes begin to tick down.
You don’t attempt to hide the deep breath you take, but you do try to not make it very noticeable. Placing the water bottle onto the chair you were just in, you clear your throat again.
“Any final advice or warnings for me before we start?” You ask, keeping your voice casual and light. It’s a subtle dig to him, but you mean no malice behind the words. Fortunately, he picks up on it.
“Oh, tons,” he grins, keeping pace with you onto the set. It’s almost easy to forget the cameras.
You steal a glance at him as you walk, the floor bitterly cold beneath your feet. With each step the bed gets closer and closer. Now finally getting a chance to see the set in detail, you’re pretty impressed. It’s a pretty realistic bedroom setting, complete with shelves decorated with trinkets and records, but vague enough to have no specific personality. Nobody’s going to be admiring the set design when they watch this. Still, you appreciate the effort made by the production team to make it feel real.
The lights facing you are blinding and you wince when you accidentally look right into one. Good incentive to not look that way, you suppose.
San sits on the edge of the bed. “You get used to it,” he says, nodding towards the lights.
You nod as well, placing a hand above your heart, willing it to stop racing.
Noticing this, San takes your hand and guides you to sit down next to him. You do feel a bit better now that you’re sitting. You keep your eyes down to avoid burning your retinas, and turn your head slightly towards him. He shifts a little closer, positioning his body so he’s facing you.
“Nervous?” He asks rhetorically, knowing full well that you are. He’s still holding your hand, playing with each of your fingers one by one.
“Obvious?” You reply, managing to laugh at yourself, despite your nerves.
San grins, his eyes turning into crescents, and that dimple in his cheek reappearing. “Only a little bit. But, I’ve seen worse.”
You hum in response. Being reminded of his experience, leaps and bounds ahead of yours, does nothing to help your anxiety. You just hope you can live up to the fantasy version of your own self. That’s the version of you he invited.
Where’s Britney when you need her?
You push your hair back, a minute attempt to self-soothe in some way. You only realize halfway through the action that Rina probably just clutched her pearls somewhere past the lights, cursing you for messing up her work. Oh, well. According to what you’ve seen and the information you’ve gathered, your hair’s gonna be plenty messed up anyway.
The room is starting to become a lot less crowded. Just like Hongjoong had said, only the essential people stay on set to make sure everything goes smoothly and safely. Everyone else becomes fading background noise, filtering out into the hallway you first came in from.
But less distractions means you notice the man right next to you even more.
You can feel San’s eyes on you.
It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, quite the opposite actually. The weight of it is light, soft around the edges as he appreciates how he managed to practically will you onto this set with him. You’d been sure you may be insecure around him because of his almost unnatural beauty, but… actually, having his eyes on you right now makes you a bit more confident. He’s not looking at anyone else but you. Not just looking, but admiring.
His gaze drifts down, greedily drinking in the sight of your collarbone and legs – the only skin you’re revealing at the moment. If the crew would just hurry up, he’ll be able to see more.
Fortunately, he’s never been one to wait to get what he wants. Especially not in this industry. And right now, he wants you.
“I meant it, by the way,” he says quietly, “you’re beautiful.”
Without any water to choke on, or an interruption from the director, you simply look up at him, finally meeting his eyes. There’s no trace of irony anywhere. Not in what he said, and not hidden somewhere within his features. The genuinity, and the doubling-down of the compliment takes you aback.
“Thank you… you’re quite beautiful yourself.” You compliment him back, shifting how you’re sitting to face him as well.
By now, your knee is touching his. Even this small amount of contact between you makes your shoulders tense again. You’re not sure why, but you just want to melt into him already. Perhaps due to the undeniable attraction you feel towards him.
Maybe it’s the insane sexual tension between you both, that very well could be the root cause as well.
You remember how real his scenes look… this must be how the chemistry is kindled. Starting before the cameras capture anything, it makes it all seem less like a show. And you know what? Until the director yells ‘cut’, you’re more than willing to match that energy.
His hand moves from yours to rest on your thigh, slowly, like he’s silently asking for permission to continue. When you don’t flinch or push him away, he hikes up your skirt just an inch or two higher, exposing more of your skin. The light ghost of his touch makes you freeze in place. It’s already dizzying enough to have him in such close proximity, and now adding in the electricity of his touch, it’s a whole other level. And this, you assume, is just the warmup. Getting you used to the feeling of his hands on you. It’s nice that it doesn’t feel wrong.
The lighting crew dims one of the lights and one of them loudly asks the director if it looks good on camera. Distracted, you turn back to look their way again, but San gently cups your face with his hand, making you face him instead.
He hums, looking down between your still-clothed bodies. His other hand dips under the hem of your skirt, and your breath hitches. Worrying too much about the crew still, you look back to see if this is alright to do before the cameras start rolling.
“Don’t look at the camera, kitten,” San purrs, “I believe that was rule number five.”
“Oh, shut up,” you mumble without any real bite to your words.
That smile of his returns, and the energy between you becomes even more charged. The moment right before someone gives in after holding back for too long.
San never looks anywhere else, entirely focused on you. It doesn't matter to him that there’s about twenty people still in the same room, all witnessing this ‘warm-up’ unfold. It barely fazes him. He’s experienced in this setting, way more used to it than you are. You just have to roll with it.
His hand on your face drops back down to the mattress as his wrist turns, and you inhale sharply when he lightly drags his fingers through your wet folds. He hums again, clearly satisfied.
“What’s got you this wet already, kitten?”
Your lips part to answer, but he finds your clit before you can speak. This time, you gasp quietly before you can stop yourself. Once again, you glance over at the crew, wondering if anyone is watching the two of you. You can’t see very well because of the lights and the various equipment in the way, but several of the crew and team are.
San smirks, pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your clit. “You like the attention?” He asks, following your gaze. “It’s different from your little camshow isn’t it? Now the audience is only a few feet away…”
His fingers begin to move in small circles, occasionally dipping further down to collect your wetness before bringing it back up to your clit.
“San–” you breathe, catching his wrist in a semi-firm grip. Not to move it away, but just to hold onto something. Jesus, the shoot hasn’t even officially started yet, but you’re about to beg them to hurry up so it can.
San just moves closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in your cute expression. His voice is quieter, so only you can hear him. “Already thought about all the ways I’m gonna make this pretty cunt cum for me. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.”
Another promise.
A shiver runs down your spine, and that’s the moment the crew decides that they’re ready to shoot.
San pulls away like nothing happened, even smoothing down your skirt for you. You force yourself to breathe through your nose, steadying your pulse. You quickly look down, checking to see if your top is still on straight.
Director Choi walks up to you both for final notes. “Alright, no script so we’re mostly gonna follow your lead, just let us know when one of you needs a quick break. All three cameras are going to be rolling, and one handheld. You remember all the rules?” He looks over to you.
You nod quickly, unable to meet his eye right now. The back of your hand lifts to your cheek to check how hot it’s gotten – as if you need additional confirmation. You hope you didn’t smudge your makeup or wipe some of it off by accident, but you imagine that if it shows up on camera, they’ll stop to fix it.
“Okay, then we’re ready to go.”
San thanks him as he walks off, turning his attention back onto you. Your gaze has dropped down to your lap, breaths kind of erratic from the little show you and him just put on, and from nerves. But you manage to pull yourself together, externally at least. All you really have to do now is look pretty for the camera. You can do that. Except for the live audience, this isn’t much different to a camshow, really.
And aren’t you here for your fans anyway? Sure, you also wanted the opportunity and experience, but it’s also for your fans. The ones who supported you enough to even get noticed by Afterdark and San in the first place. You imagine they’ll make up at least half of the view count whenever this video drops. You’re performing for them. Not for the strangers in the room.
Once that clicks for you, all your anxiety melts away, freeing you to finally just… enjoy this. Why not? You deserve it.
Plus, you’re quite eager to pick up right where you and San left off just moments ago – and it seems that San is too.
His gaze becomes heavier, darker as he shifts into his on-screen persona.
“C’mere, kitten, want you on my lap to start.” He says, moving back on the bed a little more and gently pulling you towards him.
You straddle his legs, slow to sit down fully. Now slightly above and closer than before, you can’t look anywhere else but at him. His hands slowly trail up your thighs again, watching you the whole time. You stop breathing when his fingertips tease the hem of your skirt again. He can probably feel through those dress pants he’s in how wet you are. Equally though, you can feel how hard he’s getting.
Subtly, you grind your hips down onto him. The immediate pleasure of the friction against your bare pussy makes your eyes roll back. One of his hands sneaks to your hip, gripping it tightly, and you meet his eyes again.
“It’s just you and me,” he says quietly, breath fanning across your cheek.
You nod, eyes fluttering closed again as you grind into him once more. “Okay…”
Through your pleasurable hazy fog, you faintly hear someone yell, ‘Action!’.
And San stops holding back.
The hand on your hip pushes you back and pulls you in, encouraging you to keep grinding on him – and to not stop anytime soon. His other hand moves to your hair, keeping your face close to his as he finally kisses you. His lips are pleasantly soft, and he tastes like peppermint. You hope you do too, you probably brushed your teeth at least four times before the driver showed up outside your apartment building. San seems to have no complaints as he moans quietly, his hand tightens in your hair.
Your whole body feels electric, every touch amplified by a thousand. He makes out with you slow and deep, savouring the taste of you, and groans into your mouth with each roll of your hips.
San tilts your chin up to kiss your neck, hiding his face from the camera. “Never answered my question,” he whispers, barely audible so his voice doesn’t get picked up by any of the overhead microphones.
You disguise your response as a moan, “Hm?”
He licks a small stripe up your neck, right up to your ear and looks down between you. You follow his gaze, only to find a wet patch staining his pants already.
Ah.
His question from mere minutes ago: What’s got you this wet already?
“So wet for me,” he murmurs, a bit louder. It’s alright if the microphones pick that up. “Wonder why…”
It’s the knowing smirk that does it. You move to undress him first, intriguing him. He didn’t expect you to be so bold right out of the gate. But, you have an on-screen persona of your own. Now both of your characters are out to play.
In your dwindling patience, you come close to just ripping the shirt off when you fumble with one of the buttons. San finds your lips again as you push the offending fabric off of him, eager to explore his newly exposed body. But you’re next.
Both of his hands lift up your shirt until it comes off over your head, forcing you two to break apart for a moment. Neither of you wait to make up for that lost time. You drape your arms around his shoulders, one of your hands lightly tugging at the roots of his hair. At first, your whole body erupts in goosebumps from the cold air now hitting your upper body as well, and not just your arms, but you can’t blame your reaction entirely on the temperature.
San must notice how your shoulders hunch a little and how you press further into him, because he is quick to warm you up.
One arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, chests touching. The first brush of your peaked nipples against his skin makes you gasp into his mouth. He nips at your bottom lip, distracting you while his hand moves from the back of your head, down to one of your breasts. His thumb flicks over the sensitive bud there and you have to duck your head down to catch your breath for a second. You grind down onto him again, adding to your arousal tenfold.
Refusing to prolong this any longer, San suddenly flips you onto the bed, underneath him. His hand returns between your legs, fingers shallowly dipping into your entrance and circling your clit. He keeps just out of your reach, his lips so frustratingly close to yours. You glance down to watch him. The visual of his hand disappearing underneath your skirt, the veins in his arm beginning to rise and pop, and the heat of his body against yours is all starting to add up.
You tug at your own skirt, looking up at him with doe eyes. He nods twice, understanding. In no time at all, your skirt is unzipped and pulled down your legs, discarded somewhere onto the floor.
Now fully exposed, San pauses.
The tempo of the scene slows abruptly as he takes his time to look at your body, laying so prettily beneath him. He looks at your body like he’s deciding where to start first, with too many enticing options. You drag your hands down his chest, lightly scratching him and making him shiver in the process. This, you realize, is how he makes every scene feel legit. He takes his time to admire his partner, make them feel admired and wanted. You have to admit, it does work its magic. Not just for the audience, but for you as well.
He catches both of your wrists, bringing your hands together to kiss them both before guiding them down above your head.
“Keep them here,” he murmurs, kissing you once more.
You barely have time to enjoy or savor the taste of him again before he moves to kiss your neck. Eyes closing, you sigh into the feeling, wanting to commit this to memory. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, moving down to kiss your chest next. Soft, wet warmth once again wraps around your nipple and you arch your back to try and get more of it. You twist your hands in the sheets above you, keeping them anchored there just like he instructed.
San then moves further down, ghosting his lips past your stomach. You part your legs to accommodate him, and he kneels on the floor, gently pushing your legs further apart. He drags this out, just to torture you, you think. His intentions and what he’s about to do are clear, but he’s a professional at driving his partners crazy. The kisses turn to licks, right next to your labia. So tantalizingly close.
If your eyes were open, you’d see that he’s been watching you the entire time, trying to pace himself as best he can. You’re actually lucky there’s a job to do here because if it was just the two of you alone, he doesn’t think he’d be holding himself back from just taking what he wants.
To him, this is all just a chance for him to prove himself to you. To him, you’re the star. And he’s going to make sure you leave this set more than satisfied. Wanting for nothing.
But he’s not going to start until you beg him to.
His breath fans across your wet lower lips and your hands find his hair again, trying to push his mouth where you need him. You hear him laugh, exhaling through his nose before moving your hands away.
“Thought I told you to keep your hands up there, kitten,” he reminds you, with a slight warning edge to his voice.
Oh, shit, you realize all too late. The last video flashes through your mind, and he feels you tense up. He kisses your hipbone to calm you down.
“Be a good girl and keep them above your head,” he repeats his previous order.
You nod quickly, “I’m sorry–” but he cuts you off by licking a thick wet stripe through your folds. Your breath hitches, and your hands stay cemented to the sheets, to hold on for dear life.
When he repeats the action, the tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, making you see stars already.
“Oh my god…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut again.
Your hands itch to move back down to his hair, wanting to pull him closer and to push him away. You want to touch him again, but the fear of him reenacting the ‘Fantasy’ video keeps you frozen.
As expected, his mouth is just as perfect as the rest of him. The softness of his lips against your core only stokes the dull heat in your lower stomach. He alternates between focusing more on your clit, and dipping his tongue into your entrance. The most addicting part is that he’s moaning while he eats you out, like the taste of you is getting him off. You hope he lets you return the favor.
He readjusts his hands on your thighs when they threaten to close around his head, opting to push them back towards your chest. Your toes curl as he sucks your clit hard, and you can’t help the high-pitched sound that escapes your mouth. He does it again, and again, getting you louder each time.
“Look at me, baby,” he breathes, his nose brushing up against your sensitive clit as he speaks.
You whimper as you lift your head up, resting on your elbows to not strain your neck. He meets your eyes for just a second before shoving his tongue into your hole, rubbing his nose against your clit again. You cry out, throwing your head back as the pleasure increases and squirm in his strong grip. Legs shaking and breath uneven, it’s clear that you’re close. Now you’ll get to see what he has planned for you. The two boxes you checked off, ‘Rough’, and ‘Gentle’ come back to haunt you.
A moan cuts you off as you try to warn him that you’re close, but he can tell without needing to hear you say it. He’s been the cause of enough female orgasms to see the warning signs of one approaching. Two of his fingers suddenly dip into you as he sucks on your clit, hooking deep inside and prodding your g-spot over and over again.
His voice is rough and gravelly against your pussy, “Cum for me, baby. Wanna taste it.”
A bolt of electricity runs through you as you cum, shaking and moaning while it gradually subsides. The heat in your lower stomach cools off but stays simmering now, waiting to be rekindled again. You whimper, raising your head back up to look at him. He’s in his own world between your legs, gently licking your pussy and your inner thighs clean. Your core clenches around his fingers when he slowly starts to drag them out, and he smirks. He lowers your legs back down, kissing your knee and doing a quick check to make sure you’re okay to continue.
You answer that check by sitting up and pulling him towards you, kissing him even more hungrily than before. He hasn’t even wiped his mouth yet, but you don’t care. Without breaking the kiss, he follows you back down onto the bed, sucking on your tongue and wrapping a hand around your throat. Not tight enough to restrict airflow, but just enough to make your head feel light. He grinds his still-clothed erection into you, and the friction makes your head spin. You don’t know if you’re allowed to move your hands or not, but you just want to touch him so badly. You want to grip his length, make him feel just as good, taste him too.
For now, you just roll your hips up into his, moaning into his mouth.
“Want it…want you,” you mumble, parting from his lips for just a second to tell him that.
San hums, lazily kissing your jaw. “What do you want, kitten? Be specific.”
You groan inwardly, but you know he has to prolong this a little. Damn… for a while, you forgot about the reason you’re currently underneath him. You sneak a glance over to your left, seeing where the set ceiling abruptly stops and opens up to the industrial interior of the Afterdark building. He notices your focus straying, and he’s quick to act.
“Tell me,” San redirects you, blocking your view by kissing the left side of your neck and distracting you from everything else by keeping his hard-on pressed right up against your bare pussy. His voice is firmer. A small warning and reminder of rule number five.
You take a deep breath before you voice what you want, “Wanna suck your cock… please, sir.”
It’s the ‘sir’ that nearly kills him. You really have done your research, haven’t you? You know that’s what he likes to be called, especially when his scene partners are feeling extra submissive to him. Are you feeling that way already? Maybe you just really want to do this for him. San studies you for a second, confirming the latter. He can see how much you actually mean it by the way you look up at him, pleading with your eyes.
And who is he to deny you? Especially when you ask so nicely. Plus, he’s been wanting to feel your mouth wrap around his cock since he watched your livestream.
“Yeah?” He asks, biting the space where your neck meets your shoulder and pressing up against you again.
You give him your best doe-eyed look, really tapping into your innocent act. “Yes, sir.”
San helps you sit upright again and stands at the foot of the bed, starting to undo his belt. Wanting to be an active participant, you lean forward, dragging your lips down and across his abs, occasionally licking at his soft, honeyed skin. His belt hits the floor, and your hands are quick to do the rest. It’s a little hard to get the zipper down, but you manage it, successfully removing his pants. You’re just about to deal with his underwear next, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him. You stumble a little as you find your footing on the floor, and let him lead you over to a chair against the set wall. It’s a better angle for the cameras, you assume. For him, he just wants to watch you do this properly. He wants nothing to obstruct his view, or the camera’s.
San pushes his hair back as you drag the final piece of clothing away from his body. You avert your eyes until the very last second, tossing the garment off to the side to join the sad little pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Now you take your time, pressing a kiss to his knee, slowly rising up onto yours the further up you move. You hear his breath shift, and you finally glance up to face his cock.
Somehow, it’s bigger than it looks on camera.
You have no idea how that’s possible – you know about the fish eye lenses and tricks the porn industry will use to make someone’s dick look bigger than it is, but right now, you’re presented with the exact opposite. It’s larger in real life. This, you were not expecting, but it is such a pleasant and welcome surprise. And of course, it’s just as pretty as the rest of him.
Both of these things combined only make you want to put your mouth on it even more.
When you delicately wrap your hand around it, he hisses at the long-awaited contact. A hand tangles into your hair, not pulling you towards him, just resting there for now. San leans back against the chair, his toned body a feast for the cameras and for you. You remind yourself not to rush, and to savor this.
Wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, you tease him a little by ghosting your lips up his length, watching him shiver and bite his lip. You kiss the tip, and linger there for a second, acting like you’re about to put him in your mouth, only to move away, kissing his hipbone next and stroking him with your hand.
His grip tightens in your hair. Knowing he wants you to hurry up, you let go of him for a moment to spit in your hand before quickly returning to it. He groans a bit louder, head falling back a little as you gently twist your wrist, squeezing at the base of his cock.
Finally, you lick him from the base to the head before wrapping your lips around him. His other hand balls up into a fist, but that’s the only reaction he gives away for now. You relax your jaw as much as you can, trying to accommodate his size before sinking down lower. You can taste his pre-cum in the back of your throat, coating your tongue.
If you were annoyed with his apparent perfection before, you’re pissed now. How does he also taste good too?
As if to get back at him somehow, you wrap your lips tighter around his cock and suck hard, which earns you a choked moan from him. You hum around him, amused and pleased with yourself. His hand shakes slightly as he pushes your hair back, the other one in your hair starting to guide you even further down. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag on it, forcing yourself to relax and remember to breathe through your nose.
“Fuck, baby…so good,” He groans, starting to struggle to keep his eyes open.
The visual of you choking on his cock is better than he could’ve ever imagined it to be. You don’t try to fight against him when he pushes you down or pulls you back up, simply letting him use your throat as he wishes. Even though you’re gagging and your eyes are watering, you don’t try to pull off. Not even when he shoves you down, making you fit his entire length into your throat, and holds you there for ten seconds. The longest ten seconds of your life. Your nails dig into your thighs, creating angry red crescent-shaped indents in your skin. His cock twitches in your throat and you whimper, keeping your gag reflex at bay. When the ten seconds are up, he lets you pull off of him completely to catch your breath.
You cough into your shoulder, one of your hands wrapping around him again to make sure he still feels good. San can't help but praise you, leaning down to kiss your forehead, cupping your face with his hand to make you look at him. It’s a subtle check-in moment. Nothing between you is said out loud, but he searches your face for any signs of discomfort or stress of any kind. He’s rather relieved to find none, only your glossy eyes staring back at him, lips parted and breath heavier than before. Ready to go again or continue on.
Whatever he wants.
San shivers as you gently twist your wrist again, returning your lips to the head of his dick, kitten-licking the pre-cum that still leaks out there. You hope he’ll cum in your mouth. A rare hope, as you’ve never quite enjoyed the taste of it before, but with his track record so far, you’re willing to bet you’ll enjoy it this time. To encourage this dream to happen, you spit onto the head of his cock twice, collecting some of it with your hand already around his length, and the rest with your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip.
You hear soft footsteps behind you, and naturally, your first instinct is to whip around to see who it is. Luckily, your conscience kicks in, reminding you of where you are, and you’re able to stop yourself before you can even move an inch. It’s probably one of the crew leaving the set, you figure. But it sounds close by.
As if to prove you right, soon there’s a figure or a shadow looming just out of your peripheral vision on your left, holding something. To combat every urge within you to turn around, you close your eyes and steal another kiss from San, who lazily kisses you back. He doesn’t seem to mind that your lips are covered in spit and pre-cum. Not one bit. His groans have increased the more you stroke his cock, one of his hands grips the arm of the chair in an attempt to ground himself. Harder, faster, your wrist begins to burn from exertion, but determination keeps it going. You’ll get a damn brace if you need to.
“God–” he grunts, looking down at your hand.
“Want you to cum too,” you say, looking up at him, almost pleading.
San’s eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, a full body shudder wracking through him before he is able to compose himself again.
“And where do you want me to cum, kitten?” He asks, his volume raising slightly, caressing your cheek.
“In my mouth, sir.” You reply, also loud enough for the microphones to pick up.
He all but shoves you down. You barely have time to make sure your teeth aren’t grazing his dick with every bob of your head as his hand returns to your hair, guiding your movements once again. This time, with just a fraction less of his notorious self control. You’re able to keep up easily, sucking harder whenever you’re closer to the head of it, and using your tongue as much as you can.
San swears under his breath, hissing at your previously unknown skill level. It takes every ounce of composure to not fuck your throat the way he wants to. He’d be so mean to you if you’d let him. He wouldn’t have kept himself down your throat for ten measly seconds, it would’ve been until you tried to push yourself off, desperate to breathe again. That would’ve been heavenly, to feel your throat constrict around his cock, in search of air. But not for the first scene together.
If there’s a next time, maybe that’s when he’ll let go just a little more. Show that side of him and see how you cope with it. For now though, he’s content to just enjoy the sight of you taking him in your mouth, wanting to make him cum. And you’re damn near close to achieving that.
He ignores the cameraman standing barely two feet from you, and leans back again, relaxing his body as his dick twitches incessantly in your mouth. Every time his tip hits the back of your throat, sparks of electricity shoot up his spine.
“Fuck… ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum… mmf–” San moans, head tilting back against the chair.
You don’t change anything about what you’re doing, just continuing until finally, he releases into your mouth. Just like you wanted him to. And it’s just as you predicted. The taste of it makes you want him to cum in your mouth again and again, surprisingly pleasant. Slightly bitter, yes, but not overly so. You swallow around him, not pulling off just yet. You won’t until you suck him dry, until he pushes you off from overstimulation. Maybe subconsciously, it’s because you know he loves to overstimulate his scene partners – a subtle payback for all of them. You try to hide your grin as you finally release him. Not a single drop wasted. You swallowed everything.
San looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, fighting to keep his chest rising and falling in a steadier rhythm. You lick your lips just for good measure, and he snaps.
His hands return to your face and the back of your head, pulling you towards him to kiss you deeply. You moan into his mouth as his tongue slips into yours, not caring in the slightest that can taste himself. As you straighten up on your knees, you can feel how wet you still are, and you can’t help but be a little surprised. You’ve never gotten wet from sucking dick before. If he finds out, it’ll go right to his ego, no doubt.
But before he can, there’s an abrupt, loud clacking sound to your left, and at first, you think someone must have dropped something. San makes a quiet, irritated sound before pulling away, glancing towards the director. The cameraman right next to you moves away, going back over towards the others and adjusting something on his camera. You feel slow to catch up on what’s happening, looking back up at San for help.
“We’re breaking for a second,” he explains, still out of breath.
Ah.
“Are you alright?” You ask him, without thinking. You’re not even sure why you asked that.
San blinks, processing your question as well before nodding once, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”
There’s a fleeting moment between you that you can’t describe. Something deeper than the scene now that you’re out of it. It’s the way he’s looking at you, void of any facade or persona meant for the cameras. Almost like he’s curious about something.
No one ever really asks him if he’s alright.
Just as quickly as the moment appears, it’s gone. You hear a flurry of movement and murmured conversations on your left as you sink back onto your heels, processing everything. Your eyes close as you try to focus on your breathing now that nothing is blocking your throat, deep inhales and slow exhales.
“You okay?” San asks as well, eyebrows furrowing in what appears to be genuine concern.
“‘M okay… honest.” You nod as you speak to emphasize that you’re truly alright. One more prolonged exhale, and you roll your shoulders back, heart-rate decelerating back to its default speed. One of your hands reaches up to massage your aching jaw.
Opening your eyes again, you accidentally make eye contact directly to his cock, still right in front of your face. It’s laying against his stomach, still slightly twitching, but… not softening. At least not as much as you’d expect it to. Surely, he can’t still be hard after coming. However, at this point, you wouldn’t put it past him to have a practically nonexistent refractory period. Might as well tack it onto the list of things he has been blessed with in life.
San runs a hand through his hair, looking over towards someone who must be talking to him. You watch his eyes follow them until you see for yourself who it is – one of the assistants that had been in his little circle when he first walked out of his dressing room. He hands him a robe, and quickly walks off. You feel a small nudge at your shoulder and find one of the other assistants – the one that had handed you the blanket earlier – extending a robe towards you. You take it gladly, your body heat crashing down again now that nothing is happening, and the frigid air conditioning reminding you why you asked for a blanket in the first place. He also gives you a water bottle with a straw poked through the plastic cap, and you drink it down gratefully.
Director Choi calls over Youngmi and Rina, and they’re quickly by your side, touching up your hair and makeup. You scoot back a little on the floor, giving San some space as his own team descends around him. Still, through the quiet rush of activity separating the two of you, your eyes stay glued to him.
Once the four hair and makeup girls leave, you hear Hongjoong from somewhere behind you. You both look towards his voice, standing near the director. A young woman you haven’t seen milling around the set before stands right next to him, also in a short silk robe almost identical to yours from what you can see of it past the lights. Your chest burns. She’s gorgeous, and seems to only get prettier the more you look at her. She looks between Hongjoong and San expectantly, as if waiting for a regular cue. Totally relaxed. You look back down at your hands in your lap, toying with the hem of your robe. It’s obvious what she’s there for. You wonder if she’s been watching the whole time as well.
But San is quick to rid you of any worries.
Actually, he seems a little annoyed as he waves Hongjoong and the woman off, before turning his attention back to you. He helps you stand up, slowly to ensure you won’t get dizzy, and leads you back over to sit on the foot of the bed. Back where you started, in your own little bubble together in front of the lights and the cameras.
Once settled again, San tilts your head up, his pointer finger under your chin, and holds it there, effectively disrupting your train of thought. He can almost see the self-doubt threatening to cloud your mind, even if you try to hide it behind your on-camera mask. He simply won’t have it. His other hand cups your cheek, making sure you don’t try to look anywhere but at him right now.
“‘M still hard for you, kitten,” he says quietly, just for you. He moves closer, his thumb running over your bottom lip. “Made me feel so fucking good… doing so well…”
You can’t help but blush at his praise. He’s so attentive, it’s a little shocking. You expected him to be, due to the videos you watched, but off-camera as well?
To thank him, you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it lightly, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. You want him to snap again. To just fuck you stupid already, to not wait for the production team to be ready. God, you just want to stop thinking and overthinking. You lean into the hand holding your cheek, humming at the comfort it provides.
One of your hands wanders between you, trailing up his thigh. You want to feel it for yourself, even though the robe does little to conceal the truth in his statement. Nevertheless, your confidence is rekindled once more when you feel him through the silk, hard and ready for you. He hisses at the contact, resting his forehead against yours for a moment or two before straightening again. A low groan from him makes your thighs clench together.
“Sorry, sir,” you whisper, grinning mischievously now that you’re the one teasing him.
San laughs once, breathy and short.
“You really have done your research on me, huh?” He smirks, watching you slowly move his robe aside to touch him properly. He tenses a little at the initial contact, but gradually relaxes again as his body gets used to it.
You shrug, playing it cool. “Wanted to see what I was getting myself into,” the corners of your mouth twitch as you slowly stroke his cock, watching for his reactions.
“And–” he clears his throat before continuing, “what do you think so far?”
Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and you’re taken aback again by his genuineness. He’s not just asking to ask or to boost a sky-high ego, he really does want to know. Still, you want to keep him intrigued. Maybe you even want him to try and prove himself to you a bit.
“Well… I’m still wet for you,” you admit, casting your eyes down towards your lap. “But I think I’ll give you a final verdict later.”
San hums, remembering the taste of you, and how wet you were for him to start. His eyes trail downwards, towards your chest, which is slowly becoming more and more revealed as your robe loosens.
“Deal,” he whispers, slowly leaning in to kiss you.
Before he can though, you squeeze his member a little harder, your thumb circling the tip, making his mind nearly go blank. San shudders and leans back on his hands, his robe also loosening little by little, revealing his chest and the top of his abs to your hungry eyes again. He steals a quick glance over to the crew, before just taking matters into his own hands.
As soon as his robe comes off, he tosses it in the camera’s direction. A rather obvious way of telling everyone the break is over. Director Choi quickly stands from his chair, shooing away a production assistant and waving another one over to collect the robes. You take yours off as well, tossing it onto his, and San eases you down onto your back, kissing you just as deeply as before.
You shiver, finally underneath him once more. The promise of what’s to come thunders through your mind. He slots his knee in between your legs, keeping you open for him. You whine into his mouth when that knee raises slightly, pressing against your pussy. You can almost hear his smirk, confirming that you are indeed still wet for him.
Well, he won’t make you wait any longer.
And just in time too, because someone over on the left shouts, ‘Action!’. You feel kind of bad for stressing out the crew this much, but you can’t dwell on those guilty feelings when San is rubbing your clit again.
“Fuck… please…” you whimper, hips grinding up in search of something else.
San moans, working himself up as he feels your pussy slicking all over his knee.
“Are they gonna stop us again?” You ask, whispering in his ear.
“They better fucking not,” San breathes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up, spreading your legs further apart so he can kneel between them.
You prop yourself up on your elbows again, intent on watching. You clench around nothing as he grips himself, angling his dick down towards your pussy. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation and impatience. Your brain goes haywire just at the sight of his cock near where you need him most, knowing he’ll stretch you out, and knowing that you probably won’t last too long with his size. Hopefully, you won’t cum as soon as he bottoms out.
San presses the tip to your hole, and you hold your breath. It’s so big, but you’re ready. You’re definitely wet enough to help get him inside without any help from spit or lube. Nevertheless, he spits right on your clit, pausing to make you feel it drip down through your folds. He taps the head of his cock against your clit a couple times, greedily watching your reactions.
And much to your despair, he doesn’t push inside just yet. Instead, he drags his cock up and down your pussy. Slowly. Forcing you to feel every inch of it, just not where you need it. Your clit is so sensitive, every time he rubs up against it, you can’t help but whine pathetically.
San hums, mocking you. “Hm? What’s wrong, kitten?”
“Please fuck me already,” you exhale, whimpering at yet another tap of his cock against your clit.
“Louder,” he instructs, not just to make you beg for it again, but also so the microphones pick it up. You’d forgotten all about them again, to be honest. “Ask me properly.”
Another shiver runs through you, and you gasp when you feel the head of his cock return to your entrance. Just barely enough so you can feel it’s there. But it’s enough motivation. You spread your legs further apart to convince him, holding them up and back by hooking your arms around your knees. Fully exposed to his eyes, open and ready to be filled.
“Please, sir, please fuck me. Want it so ba–”
Your voice is cut off by a choked noise as he finally pushes into you. Quickly, you look down, watching him breach you. All of your air is punched out of you as he stretches you out, sinking deeper and deeper, inch by inch. He takes over the task of keeping your legs apart, and he stills for a second to give your body time to adjust to him. He’s just barely halfway in, and your brain already feels like mush.
Maybe it’s a good thing because the same cameraman from before comes back, aiming the camera right at you two. Your body is so tense from the intrusion that you can’t look towards him, even by accident.
San swears under his breath, watching his cock disappearing into you as well.
“So fucking tight… god, baby…” he grunts, adjusting his knees slightly closer to your ass so he can feed you more of his length.
One of his hands tilts your chin up again, silently telling you to hold eye contact with him. His eyes flicker down only for a split second.
Then he shoves the rest of his cock inside.
A mix of a gasp and a yelp punches its way out of you. Your whole body is like a livewire. Alert, teetering on an electric edge. Your hands grip the sheets next to you, biting your lip. You can feel everything. Every inch, every vein dragging against your walls when he slowly pulls it back again. You both crave and dread the next time he pushes in, knowing it’s going to feel so overwhelmingly good.
The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re close to coming already.
Wide-eyed, all you can do is stare up at him as he rolls his hips into yours. Your walls flutter around him, legs already beginning to shake. There’s no hiding it anymore.
Amused, San leans down, pushing your legs back even more, deepening the stretch. He groans as your pussy contracts around him tight, wanting more.
“What, kitten? Already?” San smirks, a windfall of pride rushing through him. As if he needed any more validation for how good at this he is.
Your face burns, having been found out.
The next roll of his hips is sinfully languid, taking his time. Then, he really betrays you. One of his hands leaves the back of your thigh and he uses his thumb to rub your clit. You yelp, body buzzing from pleasure, and he takes this time to start fucking you properly, thrusting into you in a steady rhythm.
“Mm, that’s it,” he says, twisting his wrist so he can rub your clit with two fingers instead. “Let me feel it.”
You’re starting to think all you need in order to cum is for him to tell you to do it. Your second orgasm of the evening is a bit stronger than the first one because of the addition of penetration. It makes you feel very floaty once it hits, clenching around his cock in order to prolong it.
Unlike last time, he gives you no recovery period. The second he sees your eyes refocus, he’s fucking into you again. Like he never stopped. Your hands grip his shoulders, knowing you’re in for it. The tags for this future video flash through your mind, overstimulation being one. You lay flat on your back now, unable to keep holding yourself up as another strong wave of pleasure crashes into you. A third orgasm building up again.
His fingers on your clit press down harder, making tight circles over the sensitive bud. He only relents for a second, just to hook your legs over his shoulders, letting him get even deeper inside of you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, whining at the feeling. Your hands try to push at his chest, to make him stop, to make him straighten up, you’re not entirely sure yourself.
There’s no energy behind your actions, but San still subtly checks in. “Feel good, kitten?”
You choke on another moan, his cock getting dangerously close to hitting your g-spot. “Mm- I’m– good, feels s-so good.”
“Yeah? You liked coming on my cock?”
“Yes…”
“Yes, what?” San punctuates his question by ramming into you hard, unexpectedly.
You’re quick to correct yourself, “Y-yes, sir!”
“There you go,” he brushes some hair away from your face, “my good girl.”
Your body melts at the praise, replaying it over and over again as the feeling builds up higher and higher. You don’t realize until San winces that your nails started to dig into his chest, leaving some red scratch marks in your wake. As soon as you see that, you instantly take your hands away, feeling so bad that you’ve hurt him unknowingly.
But he puts them right back where they were.
And he leans down to your neck to return the favor, biting and sucking the skin there to create dark red and purple bruises wherever he can. His thrusts become more powerful, angling down into you to make you see stars. The simmering heat in your stomach is stoked with each direct hit to your g-spot. It’s getting to be more of a challenge to breathe normally like this.
Especially as your third orgasm begins to crest.
“‘M coming–” you warn him, but he knows already. He can feel it.
He hovers over you, moving his hips precisely and slightly faster. He wants to watch you again. To see you fall apart for him again. Truthfully, he already feels a bit pussy-drunk. Starting to get addicted to the feeling of your warm, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around him, coming for him so prettily. And you don’t disappoint him the third time either.
You’re loud this time, unable to control your volume. The third orgasm hits you like a truck, and it only builds higher and higher instead of gradually diminishing. You cry out, halfway through it. Something feels unfinished about it, and you’re desperate to chase it. Luckily, San knows exactly what you need.
He quickly lowers your legs from his shoulders, jumping right into action to catch this. Your legs are held back, like the previous position they were in, and he returns his other hand to your lower stomach, pressing down hard. You can feel him moving inside of you. Your head falls back and you moan loudly, suddenly feeling everything tenfold.
The sound is obscene, definitely pornographic. Wet, sloshing sounds, accompanied by your loud cries and moans fill the warehouse-like room of the eighth floor. His cock prods your g-spot every single time, building something insanely powerful that you’ve never felt before. You grab his wrist, looking up at him with slight fear in your eyes, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He’s determined, if anything.
“Good girl,” he purrs, so affectionately it makes your brain melt.
He adjusts his hand on your stomach just a little further down. At the same time that you feel him rubbing your clit again, he ducks down to suck on one of your nipples, and fireworks explode behind your eyelids. The quadruple stimulation makes you scream.
“Gonna make a mess for me, kitten? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock again?”
You don’t even have time to nod or reply in any way. A strong surge of pleasure smashes into you from all sides, whiting out your vision. It’s a feeling of release unlike any other that you’ve felt before, much harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. He keeps fucking you through it until your pussy forces him out, watching your body shake uncontrollably underneath him, soaking the sheets below you, and his lower body. Now you know damn well what kind of ‘rough’ you’ll be getting from him: overstimulation. Making you cum until you beg him to stop.
San growls at the sight. It burns into his brain, and he can already say for certain that he’ll be jerking off to the memory of this later tonight and for days to come.
Just to prolong it, he taps his heavy cock against your pussy and clit again, enjoying how you try to squirm away from it.
You’re so wet, it’s audible. Every tap is loud, and a thin, stringy mixture of his spit and your slick clings to him for as long as it can whenever he pulls away. You reach for him, not knowing exactly what you want, but knowing you want him closer to you, and he obliges. He leans down over you again, slowly sliding his length between your puffy, wet folds.
A familiar, faint voice from the left is ignored totally by you and him, too busy coming down from the most intense high of your life, and him holding you through it.
An aftershock rattles you from head to toe, and you gasp when you feel it. The intense pleasure you felt gives way to sudden emptiness, and you realize you do not have anything to clench down on anymore. Though his dick is right there, dragging up and down your outer lips, it feels so far away from where you actually want it.
Thankfully, sensing your dilemma – and hearing you whine for it – he doesn’t make you wait any longer. In your post-orgasmic haze, he guides you over onto all fours, now facing the foot of the bed. Ever the gentleman, he moves your hair out of your face. However, you imagine it’s so the camera can see your fucked out, dazed expression.
His cock slips back inside of you easily, without any resistance, and the two of you groan in unison. In both relief and pleasure.
That familiar, faint voice comes back. Clearer this time, and closer as well. “San… San! We’re taking another break now.”
San kisses your shoulder blade, barely paying attention. “Okay, have fun,” he brushes the voice off, impatiently.
You’d laugh if you had any coherent thoughts or spare energy left. No, you’re a bit preoccupied at the moment, your body trembling around his cock, and so happy that he’s pushed back into you. Truthfully, you don’t even care if you’re stressing out the crew anymore. All of your thoughts are about San.
San smooths a hand up your spine, slowly pushing inch by inch into your soaked hole. He shushes you gently when you whimper, interlacing his fingers with yours when you try to reach back to find his hand to hold.
“I know, kitten, it’s okay. Just relax.”
Easier said than done.
He lightly presses your lower back, signalling you to arch it for him a little more. You nearly regret it when you feel him deeper than before in this position. Your elbows threaten to buckle, body shaking like a leaf. Yet, you still want more. Even though you’re nearing a certain point, wavering between overexertion and exhaustion, you crave more. You want to chase that feeling with him again. Make him glad he asked you to come here. Make him come back for more. So, you grit your teeth and keep yourself from face-planting into the mattress. For now, at least.
San’s powerful pace resumes in no time, stealing every breath from your lungs. Another vague, quiet plea falls from your lips, and in response, he squeezes your hips, pulling them back to meet every thrust. Your throat is raw from all the noise you’re making, and you know you’ll have to drink some tea or honey tonight to get your voice back to normal. Not this thin, broken voice you have now. Your lower back aches from staying in this position, but you do your best to ignore it.
It helps that his cock is basically in your stomach, that does a lot to distract you from a mere ache in your back. It also helps that your pussy is extra sensitive, coming three times – twice in a row without a break – and squirting for the first time. On camera, no less. Your viewers are going to lose their fucking minds. The image of your donation box on your livestreams, and your Venmo accounts skyrocketing after this video releases is motivation enough for you to want him to make you do it again.
Your back arches even more, hips grinding back against his to get more of him somehow.
Such a little natural.
“Mmm, there you go. That’s it. Keep fucking yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”
You make a noise, halfway between a whine and a moan and do as he says. Your chest grazes the sheets below you, chin buried into the mattress and arms gripping the edge of the bed in front of you.
“Fuck,” you whimper, a couple of stray tears threatening to fall. “You’re s-so fucking deep.”
San groans, increasing the pace. You yelp when you feel him smack your ass, and again when he hits it a second and third time. By the time the third strike lands, he doesn’t even give you any time to process the stinging pain he’s left behind before there’s a new one on the back of your head.
Slightly dizzy, it takes you a second to realize you’re upright, on your knees. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots, and the other rubbing incessant circles on your swollen clit. His chest presses into your back, and he moves your head to face him so he can kiss you again. Mind threatening to wipe completely, you can’t fight to hold back your tears anymore. You shudder violently, and he groans as he feels your body struggle to keep up with him. He knows you can take it, though. You’re a fighter, he can tell.
“Doing so well,” he whispers in your ear, “such a good girl for me, baby. Knew you would be. Knew I’d get this pussy to fall apart on my dick. Thought about it so fucking much…”
You whine against his mouth, tears wetting his face now as well. The blatant admission that he had thought about you like this before today goes straight over your head.
All you hear is his praise. You’re doing well. Good enough for him, like you were so stressed about being. Nothing else matters to you anymore, now that you’ve earned his approval. A proud smile creeps across your face, and he grins at the faraway look in your half-lidded eyes. You’re so far gone. Completely pleasure-drunk.
The hand in your hair tightens again and loosens, like it’s an afterthought now. Just something for him to hold onto. To keep you steady, if anything. Warm pressure building and building again in your stomach, you round your back as another shiver wracks its way through your body, making your spine tingle. His hand moves down to hold you by the back of the neck, and he slows his pace just enough to guide you back down onto the bed. This time, totally flat. Your pussy forces him out at this new position, but his other hand is quick to spread one of your ass cheeks apart, cock sliding back inside of you.
He doesn’t ease you into his pace anymore. The first brutal thrust makes your eyes roll back, and your jaw falls open. Your nails claw at the bedding, every muscle in your arms straining while you hold onto the fabric for dear life.
He’s so fucking deep. Impossibly, almost.
He may just make you cum like this, without even needing to touch your clit. He’s making you learn so much about what your body can do when in the right hands. No wonder people are so obsessed with him. He’s become so in tune with your body so quickly, just by paying explicit attention to you this whole time. It makes you really appreciate his expertise, because he could easily have just used what has worked for other girls in the past. He probably could’ve made you cum like that as well, but he tailors himself for each girl. Adapts for them. For you.
And he’s learning you pretty well. Probably read you like a fucking book.
Every precisely angled thrust punches a moan out from deep within your chest. Each sound is partly muffled by the bedding, and you try to keep quiet, not wanting to be annoying. You can’t help it, though. Not when it feels this good. Certainly not when another orgasm is building, more rapidly than the others.
You squirm under him, toes curling and nails digging into the mattress.
“I– mmf–! You’re… you’re gonna make me cum again,” you have to speak quickly before it hits you.
San leans over you, hands planted right next to your shoulders, fucking you harder. “Give it to me, pretty girl. I want every fucking drop.”
Someone dressed in all black stands right in front of you, pointing something towards you. It doesn’t register that it’s the camera guy with the handheld camera for a couple seconds. You imagine he’s zooming in, capturing everything. He must know the future audience does not want to miss a single second of how you react to coming again, and how San won’t let up on you once you do… again.
Your eyes shut tight once your fourth climax thunders through you. Pure ecstasy erupts in every vein. Euphoria clouds your brain. The sheets beneath you two become even more soaked, and you can feel your release dripping down your thighs. You must’ve been loud because your throat feels scratchy and rough all of a sudden, but your head is in such a rush that you don’t even hear anything.
San holds you by your throat now, making you keep your face up.
Just as you predicted, San doesn’t stop or slow his pace whatsoever. True to his promise that he’s ‘gonna make you feel so good’. Well, that promise is currently turning you into a limp, fucked out mess. You’ve never had this many orgasms so quick in succession before. It’s making your hormones go absolutely wild, and you cry harder, wetting San’s hand with your tears. The camera loves it.
There are some sounds near you that you can’t be bothered to discern, and you just lean into San’s hand on your throat. Fully intent on just letting him do whatever he wants to you at this point. He pretty much already is. Although, you’re not entirely sure how many more times you can cum without passing out. You hope he’ll stop before that happens. You don’t want to embarrass yourself like that.
San subtly taps your throat, getting your attention, before raising your head a little higher.
You blink stupidly up at the cameraman in front of you, eyes half-lidded and heavy, struggling to keep them open. You flinch a little when you see that there are two more people in front of you, the director included. When did everyone get so much closer to the bed? All of them, you notice, are at least semi-hard. Director Choi nods behind the camera, muttering inaudible praises. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white, and pull them up towards your mouth to muffle your screams. Out of frame, Director Choi motions for an assistant to pull the sheets down, ripping your comfort away, exposing how loud you’re being. Tears sting your eyes, both from exertion and from the intense pleasure San is giving you.
“Pussy’s so good… so tight and wet… could fuck you forever.”
Director Choi silently motions for San to keep talking like that.
San grunts, fighting to catch his breath enough to speak again. “Such a good girl… gonna make you cum again.”
And he does.
Before you even realize that it’s been simmering and building, it knocks into you sideways. This time, you can’t even scream. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out due to your body locking up. San releases your throat, worried that you’re not breathing – and he’s right. He slows down considerably, moving your hair away from your face to check on you. Your body slowly relaxes again underneath him, one muscle at a time, and a low, guttural groan tears itself from your throat.
You can feel every inch of him dragging past your inner walls, and every slightest movement makes your pussy clench, trying to simultaneously push him out and suck him in further. Instead of continuing again, though, he pushes all the way into you one more time, and then stops.
It’s somehow both torture and a relief. You feel so fucking full, but he isn’t doing anything to continue the dull flames that engulf your lower stomach, and yet you know it’s better than being empty. He could pull out, leave you to deal with that emptiness before you felt ready. He doesn’t. Appreciative thoughts swirl around your head and you cry harder, trying to hide your tears in the sheets.
When the camera crew and director see that he’s not continuing, they call for another break. Everyone moves away, and there’s no longer a black cloud in front of you.
San doesn’t move an inch, though.
He brushes through your hair with his fingers, comforting you. He’s intent on waiting until you calm down, not wanting to push you too far before you’re ready. He knows he went a little crazy, instantly getting addicted to the feeling of you coming around his dick, and you deserve a break. As long as you need.
But you’re addicted yourself. A real glutton for the pleasure he’s given you thus far. You push back and wiggle against him, trying to get him to move again. His hands push you down by your hips, keeping them still. You whine at the denial, looking over your shoulder at him with teary, red eyes. He almost gives in.
“I know, baby. Just relax with me for a moment.”
You pout, another tear roaming down your cheek. Deep down, you know he’s right. Your body has been pleading for a break two orgasms ago. It’s high time you listen to it. You collapse, finally letting yourself relax, solely focusing on the quiet murmur of the crew off to the side, and San’s fingers running through your hair.
It’s a nice moment.
Nicer still when San litters your shoulders and back with gentle kisses, helping you calm down. Clearer thoughts slowly begin to reenter your mind, and your breaths even out, relatively back to normal. Better than the mixture of shallow inhales, long periods of holding your breath, and gasps for air. Because of the improved air intake, your head finally feels like it’s stopped swimming. Little by little, your energy comes back.
You take a deep inhale, sighing contently as you exhale it back out. Looking behind you again, you catch him already watching you.
“Hi,” you mumble, half-smiling.
San smirks, his hand cupping your cheek. “Hey, pretty girl. Feel okay?”
You nod, humming, and you subtly push back against him. The feeling of his cock pressing into you doesn’t shock your body as much as it did before. Now it’s a welcome, familiar feeling. Sought after. You really are addicted. Maybe even insatiable when it comes to how well he fucks you.
With the other hand, he places a water bottle in front of your face, the same one with a straw poked through the cap from before. You don’t bother wondering where he got it from. You have a pretty good idea. They’re always everywhere during a break.
Once you’re done with the bottle, he places it against one of the pillows, where it will no doubt be collected by a production assistant within seconds.
You push back again, trying to get him to move. You hear him chuckle behind you.
“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”
Instead of contradicting his statement, you just nod. Why lie?
“Wanna make you cum too,”
San hums, just barely rolling his hips into yours. “How do you wanna do that, kitten?”
You steel yourself for what you’re about to do. Hoping he will let you go through with your plan, you pull yourself away from him, and he slips out of you. The emptiness hits just as hard as you thought it would, and you whimper at the initial feeling. If all goes to plan, you won't be for long.
San watches you carefully as you turn to face him on the bed, gently pushing him back against the pillows. His hands instinctually rest on your hips as you straddle him, and he looks up at you, patiently waiting for your next move. At least, coming across as patient externally. You don’t miss how his dick twitches, eager to be engulfed by your warmth again. He must feel something equivalent to the emptiness you felt when you pulled away.
You’ll fix that gladly.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the crew start to come back to their spots – lights, camera, microphones. They must have learned not to stay too far away when it comes to filming you two. You do your best to hide your grin.
San helps you line up the head of his cock to your entrance, and you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders as you slowly sink down. His eyes flutter shut, eyebrows furrowing as he exhales shakily. Following his lead, you don’t give him much time to adjust before you start moving.
You swear you hear him whimper. Just once, but you catch it nevertheless.
He keeps his eyes down, locked between you, watching your cunt swallow his dick over and over again. You bite your lip, nails digging into his shoulders as his hands become more firm on your hips. The next time you sink down, he pulls you down hard. You gasp, not expecting it, and he attacks your lips once again.
You kiss him back just as eagerly, increasing your pace. Your thighs already start to protest from the strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care or stop. Not when he’s moaning into your mouth like this. Every noise you pull out of him is pure music to your ears. A rhapsody you could hear a thousand times and not get bored of. You pull away from his lips just to hear him clearer, and he chases you. He nips your bottom lip, one of his hands slowly travelling up to knead one of your boobs again.
Breaths mingling, you shiver in his hold. His other hand dips down to rest on your ass, squeezing the flesh there as you bounce on his cock.
The heat of it all consumes you, drives you to get him to cum. You want to hear him. You want to repay him for making you cum four times, and put in just as much effort.
It’s a battle to try and ignore your own pleasure, building up for a fifth time. You’re not convinced you can cum again. However, now you’re willing to see what happens. If you faint, you faint.
You clench around him on purpose, grinding into him and rolling your hips, your gummy walls massaging his length and successfully driving him crazy. His head falls back against the headboard, and his fingers begin to leave bruises on your skin.
“So fucking good,” he hisses, “such a good girl… gonna make me cum so hard.”
The thought and image that accompanies it gives you a second wind of energy. Your hands move to his chest, and you press down as you continue to fuck him.
“Want you to cum inside me,” you beg him, hot breath hitting his neck. You feel him shudder underneath you.
San only nods, unable to speak. You lick a stripe up his neck, tasting the slight saltiness of his sweat and kissing the hinge of his jaw. Right next to his ear, you moan again, enjoying how he tenses up.
Suddenly, both of his arms are wrapped around your waist, and he sits up a little more. One of his hands presses into your upper back, supporting you as he starts fucking up into you, seamlessly matching your rhythm.
He lets out a choked moan, cutting it off by kissing you one more time before his eyes shut tight.
“Gonna cum…fuck, I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, kitten. Gonna feel me for days.”
You whine at his words, and he seems to have worked himself up further by saying it as well.
“Please, sir, need your cum inside of me. Please give it to me–”
San pushes you down onto your back before you can blink. Your legs wrap around him, and the pleasure increases for you almost instantaneously. When you look down, you swear you can see a slight bulge in your stomach. His lips attach to your neck, sucking and biting to muffle his moans as much as possible. Every sound he makes is so pretty.
He pounds into you without any more room for mercy, concentrating on coming again. And he can feel that you’re close again too.
“Cum with me,” he pants against your neck, “give me one more. Let me feel your pretty cunt cum on my cock one more time, baby.”
One more. You nod, eyelids growing heavy again. Everything is perfect in this moment. The feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the head of it pressing against your g-spot and fanning the flames of your arousal until it engulfs you like wildfire; his soft, plush lips on your neck, his words in your ear, and his warm, firm skin under your hands.
As if that all wasn’t enough, San spits on his fingers and starts to rub your clit again.
Everything adds up to push you over the edge.
You cry out, body completely spent as you weakly squirt for him again. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, adrenaline and euphoria taking turns to run through your bloodstream. The sheets beneath you are completely soaked through. Every sense is both heightened and dulled. Exhaustion pulls itself over you like a weighted blanket.
And your climax triggers his.
True to his word, he comes deep inside of you, filling you up until it’s leaking. The additional warmth is comforting for a second, until your stomach begins to cramp a little bit. Not enough to hurt, but just enough for you to notice. You’re definitely not used to coming this much.
San shudders violently before dropping to his elbows, careful not to crush you under his weight. Both of you catch your breaths, chests heaving as you coax air back into your lungs. You tangle one of your hands in his hair, holding him close to you as you take this moment to settle down. He buries his face in your neck, small, audible sighs occasionally escaping him.
Unbeknownst to you, he’s never cum that hard before. Years of experience behind him, sure, he’s gotten close to this level, but never was able to reach it until now.
Reluctantly, he slowly drags himself out of your pussy, eyes immediately glancing down to see his cum leaking out. He smirks as he watches you fight to keep it inside, not wanting to let it go yet.
Then, like he does every single time, he ducks down to lick one more long, slow path up your pussy. Entrance to clit. A silent ‘thank you’. You whimper, legs closing when he pulls away.
“Cut! Print it.”
And he’s gone.
You feel you just got a violent slap back into reality.
What…just happened? You slowly push yourself up, with admittedly great difficulty.
Half of the staff flutter around you, while the others flock to San’s side, covering him up in his robe and starting to lead him towards his dressing room. The production assistants assigned to you don’t say much, handing you the same water bottle as before and urging you to drink it all. You watch the cameraman and the director talk, leisurely packing everything up. Just another day at the office. It’s all over just like that.
Meanwhile, you feel… stunned. Maybe even a little empty, and not just physically this time. You never thought about how aftercare is pretty much nonexistent in shoots like this. Everything is strictly business. Professional. Void of any emotion for the other ‘actor’. Still, as someone runs a brush through your messy hair, and someone else wraps a silk robe over your shoulders, you find that you cannot tear your gaze away from the direction of San’s dressing room door. Your eyes threaten to tear up, a dull yet powerful feeling of rejection blooming in your chest.
Maybe you aren’t cut out for this type of thing, no matter how many offers you receive. Not if this is how it ends, as if nothing happened. Like none of it mattered. Another notch in Choi San’s belt.
Director Choi suddenly appears in front of you, and you’re quick to act like nothing is wrong. “You did great,” he says, “thank you for your time today.”
You manage a fake smile and thank him as well, apologizing for any issues you may have caused by being impatient or loud.
He simply waves it off, “Happens more than you think. Have a good rest of your night, Miss Y/L/N. Maybe we’ll work together again in the future.”
‘Maybe’.
His words stick to you, gnawing at your skin like leeches. He truly didn’t mean to make you feel worse, you know that, and yet he really drove home just how… common you feel. Not special whatsoever after all.
You imagine going back home and going live again. The notorious four exclusive viewers will want to know how it went, and you’re going to have to tell them something. You doubt you’ll be able to lie. Woo will probably be able to tell something’s wrong.
Maybe, once this check hits, you can just disappear for the foreseeable future. If you’re astronomically lucky, everyone will forget it happened so you won’t have to relive the very tail end of it. You run a hand through your hair. You’re so fucking dramatic.
It hurts a little extra when even Hongjoong doesn't stick around to check in on you, tending to his star first and foremost. You can’t say you really blame him, though – that is his job. San should be his priority.
It’s just that you desperately wish for a friendly face, or someone to genuinely check in with you. Comfort you.
Not to be surrounded by strangers who won’t look you in the eye.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
You’re not sure what the plan is.
You don’t even know if he’s still here. But here you are, standing in front of his dressing room door like a fucking idiot. Another girl obsessed with him. Nothing new, just another number they’ll have to delete.
Even so, you want to try and talk to him. Ask him why the fuck he left in such a hurry. Your hands readjust their grip on your purse, with half a mind to swing it at whoever opens the door.
Gathering up all the courage imaginable, your hand raises in a fist, and you softly knock on the door three times.
To be honest, you’re not really expecting a response. Half of the staff are gone already, it’s unlikely that he’d want to stick around here any longer than he has to. When you checked the time on your phone in your dressing room, you were surprised to see that it’s already nearing nine o’clock. Your stomach had growled almost immediately upon seeing it. You look over your shoulder, watching the rest of the staff still here turning off some of the lights and gathering wires.
Distracted, you jump about a mile in the air when the door opens, revealing San, now also dressed and looking like he’s ready to leave. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the sight of you.
“Hey,” he says, so casually. “What’re you still doing here?”
Embarrassment hits you like a brick wall. Yep, just another girl on the callsheet that stuck around to beg him for more. Ugh.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you,” you say, already giving up on the whole idea of confronting him. Britney can’t help you now.
You start to turn on your heel, but he opens the door wider, stepping aside as if to invite you in. “No, no. Not bothering me. What’s up?”
Your mouth dries. Okay, now you got to follow through. But god… does he really not know? You wonder if this has never come up before. If all of the girls before you are just collectively tougher than you emotionally and can handle no aftercare, no follow up, nothing. You should be, too, honestly. You know what porn is and what it isn’t. It’s not exactly a dating service. Two hot people fuck each other and go their separate ways, money wired to them before their heads hit the pillow at night.
Still… you and Yeosang aren’t dating, and after your collab with him, he redressed you and cuddled you for an hour straight. He made sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, that the friendship is still intact. You weren’t being used.
You hesitate to step into his dressing room, and ultimately decide to just stay put. Stand your ground. You don’t want to take too long, you just need an answer.
Out with it.
“I was just wondering why you left so quickly? Did I do something to offend you in any way?”
San blinks, slight confusion clouding his face. “Oh, no, I just– I saw your form. Didn’t want to hang around and make you uncomfortable.”
Now you stare at him, just as confused. “Wait, what? What about my form?”
“You checked off ‘Hard No’ to aftercare.”
…Pardon?
No way.
He must see the bewilderment in your face because he fishes his phone out of his pocket to show you.
“Yeah, Hongjoong said…” he trails off, the light of his phone screen reflecting in his dark brown eyes. “Yeah, look.”
He holds his phone up to show you, and you step closer to it, squinting to see for yourself. Sure enough, amidst all of the other dozens of checkmarks, you accidentally fucked yourself over and selected ‘Hard No’ for aftercare. Luckily, you didn’t select one of the bodily fluid options as a ‘Hard Yes’ in your evident past confusion. You bury your face in your hands.
“Oh my god. That was meant to be a ‘Hard Yes’.” You groan. Guilt threatens to eat you alive for all your negative thoughts towards him, and the texts you sent Yeosang while in your dressing room after the fact. You’re going to have to do some serious damage control to get Yeosang to not hate him forever. It’ll surely start with a screenshot of the form you fucked up, followed by a dramatic statement of your stupidity.
San pockets his phone again, almost sheepish. He hesitantly steps closer to you, unsure of how to fix this.
“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, “I should’ve double checked with you.”
“No, no, please don’t blame yourself when it’s my own mistake.”
“Still…” he trails off, looking down at the floor.
It hits you that he’s really hurt by this. Hurt for you.
“San…” you tilt your head to try and meet his eye. “It’s alright, really. I feel much better now that I know it wasn’t on purpose or because I did something wrong.”
“I’d never do that to you, or anybody. I always stress how important aftercare is to the directors I work with so they don’t try to rush through it.” San runs a hand through his freshly-washed hair as he speaks, exasperated. You vaguely remember him saying something akin to that in one of the interviews that you watched.
Damn, he really is nice. Here you were at the start of this, thinking he’d be a cocky son of a bitch who has the world at his feet, and anything he wants within arms reach. The last two parts of that description may be right, but your assumed attitude is definitely not. Well… maybe not entirely. The cockiness isn’t used to make anyone feel small, that’s the important difference. It’s confidence, more than anything.
“I know,” you smile, trying to make him feel better. “Really, it’s okay.”
He seems unconvinced. “Can I make it up to you in some way?”
You shift your weight from one foot to the other. If you wouldn’t immediately cringe at yourself for doing so, you’d maybe ask for a hug or something. Physical contact in any way to comfort you, make you believe it. But the guilt he obviously feels is enough. The knowledge that he truly thought it’s something you were so against, and he respected it anyway, is more than enough.
“You don’t have to, San.”
“I want to, Y/N.”
Your pulse skips a beat, wondering what he has in mind. The way he said it was so final, like he made up his mind already. His phone reappears in his hand, texting someone quickly and sending it off. He then reaches into his dressing room, turning off the light after doing a quick scan of it and closing the door behind him.
“Can I walk you out?”
That, you’ll allow.
“Sure. Are you going home?” You ask, changing the subject as the two of you start walking towards the exit doors.
“Nah, not yet. There’s a gym on this floor I’m gonna go to first.”
You just nod in response, wondering how on earth he has the energy to go to the gym right now. You have a very special date with your bed for the foreseeable future. It’s highly doubtful that you’ll wake up before three in the afternoon. Truthfully, you can’t wait. Maybe you’ll sleep off some of the soreness you’re sure to have tomorrow.
“Oh, by the way, do you have an agent?” San asks you out of nowhere, right before you get to the doors.
You blink once. Twice, processing. “No…?”
Yeosang’s the only one who may even come close. He’s the one you ask before doing anything, wanting his opinion and blessing. But technically and professionally, no, you’re an independent artist as far as you’re concerned.
“I’d find one soon,” San says, glancing towards the bed, soaked through. “You’re about to get a lot of offers.”
You blush furiously, reminded of everything that transpired between you barely an hour ago. “Maybe I should just take yours.”
San groans, “Honestly, do it. I’m sure Joong could use a break from my bullshit.”
You laugh, trying to hide it with your hand. San pretends to be offended that you agree, clutching his heart in betrayal, which makes you laugh harder. The doors push open, the white fluorescent lights blinding both of you after being so used to the golden studio lights on set.
“Maybe I will let you have him,” he says, a smirk growing across his face. “It’s good manners.”
He looks at you like he knows something you don’t, and it bothers you. The word choice sounds familiar, but you can’t place it. Before you can ask, he steps closer to you, invading your personal space for the first time since being intimate with each other. You hold your breath.
“Goodnight, baby.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before walking down towards the opposite end of the hallway, where you can only assume is the direction of the gym.
Fuckin’ hell…
You stand there like an idiot for another couple of seconds, still processing what just happened in the span of five minutes. You also try to figure out the implication behind his word choice. ‘Manners’. It bugs you so much, you know you heard something about it recently, but can’t pinpoint where or when.
The question of what he meant follows you all the way to the lobby. You press the down button on autopilot, just now remembering to text the driver to tell him that you’re ready to be picked up downstairs and taken home. From down the hallway, you hear the door to the studio swing open again – probably some of the crew heading home as well. You glance towards the stairs, not exactly jumping at the chance to be stuck in an elevator with a bunch of strangers who watched you have sex an hour ago.
But the footsteps that follow the sound of the door closing are what gives you pause. They’re hurried, and headed towards the lobby. The elevator dings behind you. You turn around just as the mystery runner comes around the corner.
“Oh! Hi, Mr. Kim–”
Hongjoong jogs over to you, catching you before the elevator doors open.
“Sorry if I startled you. San is wondering if we can arrange another collab, but this time on your livestream.” He speaks quickly, like time is of the essence.
You stutter, brain trying to connect with your vocal cords.
“What?” You ask, even though you heard and processed everything Hongjoong said just fine. You’re just wondering if you actually heard him right. Today just keeps getting stranger and stranger. More interesting, definitely.
He’s quick to repeat himself, almost pleading with his eyes for you to say ‘yes’.
At least with the emails you had some time to think everything over. Now Hongjoong is staring dead at you, waiting for the response he hopes to hear.
You can’t help it. You want to make him chase you again.
“Tell him I’ll think about it,” you say as sweetly as possible, stepping into the elevator.
You try not to enjoy the perplexed look on Hongjoong’s face until the doors close completely.
· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·
You have no idea how he does it, truly.
Everything in his world is immediate. You’re not used to it whatsoever.
Those are the thoughts you have as you step out of the elevator in your apartment building, walking up to your door. You're more than ready to throw your shit down in the kitchen and go the fuck to bed. Your phone is in the process of being fished out of your pocket, intent on texting Yeosang to ask if he's around for a debrief.
You stop dead in your tracks when you look up, about to unlock the front door. Perched tall and proud, is a beautiful bouquet of purple flowers in a glass vase right outside your door. A card is placed in between the overlapping petals, and you can’t help but gawk at the sight of it.
How the hell did he find your address?
Oh– Hongjoong, probably. Your initial creeped-out feeling vanishes. Hongjoong can just find anything for San, you’re sure.
Punching in the keycode to your door, and switching the kitchen lights on, you place the flowers on the counter, taking a second to admire them. Purple, you note. Your favorite. Again, Hongjoong must have told him, but you can’t help but smile – he really did want to make it up to you.
You pluck the small card from the flowers and read it, sitting down at your kitchen island.
Hope you had a good time today.
Sorry for being such a stupid slut </3
-San
Your smile widens, laughing and rereading it. You flip it over, and on the back is a phone number, scrawled in blue ink.
Perhaps you missed a hidden clause in the forms that makes you promise to not fall in love with him.
Summary: Yunho never expected to meet someone just as obsessed with Spider-Man as he is on opening night of Spider-Man: Brand New Day. When he spots you in a matching Spider-Man outfit, one compliment quickly turns into an unforgettable evening.
Word count: 1,143
———————————————
The queue wrapped around the cinema building, buzzing with excitement.
Opening night for Spider-Man: Brand New Day wasn’t just another movie premiere it was an event. Everywhere you looked there were Spider-Men, MJ cosplayers, The Punishers, Scorpions and people proudly carrying collectible popcorn buckets.
You tugged at the sleeves of your Spider-Man hoodie, adjusting the homemade mask resting on top of your head instead of over your face. It had taken you two evenings to paint the webbing neatly across the fabric, and although it wasn’t professionally made, you were ridiculously proud of it.
“Okay,” you muttered to yourself. “Don’t trip. That would be a terrible first impression on absolutely nobody.”
“You won’t.”
The unexpectedly deep voice beside you made you jump.
Standing in line was a man wearing what was arguably the coolest Spider-Man suit you’d ever seen. It looked movie-quality, fitted perfectly, complete with white eye lenses flipped up so his face was visible.
He smiled sheepishly.
“I overheard,” he admitted. “Sorry.”
You laughed.
“Well now I’ve got witnesses if I embarrass myself.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t see.”
His smile was impossibly warm.
“I like your suit.”
You blinked.
“You… do?”
“Yeah.”
He pointed at the carefully painted web lines.
“You made that yourself, right?”
“…How could you tell?”
“The tiny imperfections.” He grinned. “They make it cooler.”
You looked down before smiling.
“Thanks. Yours is incredible.”
“It took me way too long to save up for.”
“Worth every penny.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I was worried I’d look silly.”
You stared at him.
“Have you looked around?”
He glanced behind him.
Half the queue was dressed as Spider-Man.
One seven-year-old was currently pretending to swing from invisible webs while his dad dramatically acted as The Punisher.
Yunho laughed.
“Good point.”
“I’m Y/N.”
He hesitated only a second before offering his hand.
“Yunho.”
His hand was warm despite the cool evening.
You chatted while the queue slowly shuffled forward.
“Favourite Spider-Man?”
“Tom.”
“Andrew.”
“…Wrong answer.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You can’t just dismiss Andrew!”
“I absolutely can.”
“He caught Gwen!”
“He also broke everyone’s hearts!”
“Exactly! That’s character development!”
He dramatically placed a hand over his chest.
“I can’t believe this.”
“Oh please.”
“You insulted my favourite Spider-Man.”
“I simply stated facts.”
“I’ve known you five minutes.”
“And?”
“You’ve already started arguments.”
You grinned.
“You’re still talking to me.”
“…Unfortunately.”
Neither of you stopped smiling.
Eventually the cinema doors opened.
The crowd spilled inside.
You assumed that would be the end of it.
Different seats.
Different screenings.
Just another nice interaction with a stranger.
“See you around, maybe,” Yunho said as your queues split.
“Maybe.”
———————————————
Two and a half hours later…
The cinema erupted into applause as the credits rolled.
You didn’t move.
Your brain was still processing everything you’d just watched.
“No way…”
People around you were already discussing theories.
Someone was crying.
Someone else loudly declared they’d be seeing it again tomorrow.
Honestly?
You probably would too.
Still dazed, you wandered toward the exit carrying your empty popcorn bucket.
You were so busy replaying every scene that you weren’t paying attention.
Thunk.
You walked straight into someone.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorr—”
“…You!”
Yunho laughed as he steadied both of you before either of you could fall.
“There goes the not embarrassing yourself plan.”
You groaned.
“I literally said this would happen.”
“You did.”
His smile somehow looked even brighter than before.
“So…”
He leaned in slightly.
“…What did you think?”
Your eyes widened.
“ARE YOU KIDDING?!”
“I KNOW!”
“The final fight?!”
“I LOST MY MIND.”
“And the—”
You immediately lowered your voice.
“No spoilers.”
“Good call.”
The pair of you moved outside where dozens of fans were already gathered discussing the film.
For nearly twenty minutes you forgot you were strangers.
You debated character decisions.
Argued over Easter eggs.
Compared comic references.
Talked about which suit was your favourite.
“The practical suit at the beginning,” Yunho decided.
“I liked the upgraded one.”
“I knew you’d pick that.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve got good taste.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’ve known that for… what…”
He checked an imaginary watch.
“Three hours.”
You laughed.
There was something incredibly easy about talking to him.
No awkward silences.
No trying to think of the next thing to say.
Every conversation naturally led into another.
“So,” he asked.
“How many times are you watching this?”
“…Realistically?”
“Mhm.”
“…At least four.”
He burst into laughter.
“I was going to say three.”
“We might have a problem.”
“A Spider-Man problem?”
“A Spider-Man problem.”
A comfortable silence settled between you.
The crowds had begun to thin.
Streetlights reflected across the pavement after an earlier shower.
You adjusted your backpack.
“I should probably head home.”
“Yeah…”
He nodded.
“…Me too.”
Neither of you moved.
You both just smiled awkwardly.
Finally Yunho rubbed the back of his neck.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve never actually done this before.”
“What?”
He took a tiny breath.
“You seem really cool.”
You felt your face warm.
“And…”
He laughed nervously.
“…I think we’d probably end up talking about Spider-Man for another four hours if nobody stopped us.”
“Probably.”
“So…”
He looked directly at you.
“Do you want to grab a coffee or something with me sometime?”
There it was.
No elaborate speech.
No dramatic flirting.
Just complete honesty.
You couldn’t help smiling.
“Were you planning that?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been trying to think of a cooler way to ask for the last ten minutes.”
“And this was the winner?”
“It was all I had.”
You laughed so hard you nearly snorted.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“I snort when I laugh.”
“I noticed.”
You covered your face.
“I’m leaving.”
“No!”
He laughed too.
“I think it’s cute.”
“You’ve known me for one evening.”
“And?”
“And I just embarrassed myself.”
“You’ve done that twice.”
“You’re counting?”
“Absolutely.”
You shook your head.
“You know…”
You looked at him.
“…I’d really like that.”
His eyes lit up.
“The coffee?”
“The coffee.”
He pulled out his phone.
“Can I get your number?”
You exchanged phones, adding your contact before handing his back.
He looked at the screen.
“‘Spider-Girl?’”
You shrugged.
“I panicked.”
“I love it.”
You glanced at his contact on your phone.
“‘Tall Spider-Man.’”
He blinked.
“I’m keeping that forever.”
“You’d better.”
The two of you stood there grinning like idiots beneath the cinema lights.
Who would’ve guessed that dressing as your favourite superhero would lead to meeting someone who understood every obscure comic reference, every movie quote, every ridiculous theory and somehow made all of it even more fun.
As you walked away, your phone buzzed before you’d even reached the corner.
Tall Spider-Man 🕷️
Made it approximately thirty seconds before texting you.
Another notification appeared immediately after.
Also… Andrew is still the best Spider-Man.
You laughed out loud, typing back without missing a beat.
a/n: had a wet dream abt spiky gingery i.n and woke up n missed him sb so i wrote this lmfaoooo so pls have spiky gingery i.n in mind when reading pls for full effect
genre♡ smut, mdni. 18+
drabble♡ thinking abt dumbification with jeongin..
warnings♡ dumbification duh, jeongin is naasstyyyyy, all up in that ass, manhandling, light slapping, rough sex, messy, he's kinda mean tho, he checks up on reader tho, overstim, creampie,
thinking about being face down and ass up into a mean arch with jeongin slobbering all over your pussy and crack. he's gripping onto the fat cheeks to stop your squirming as you weakly kick out from underneath him in a broken mess already. the flat of his tongue dragging from your clit all the way up through your sticky folds to your asshole. jeongin groans as he finally pulls away, spitting a glob of spit onto your folds before muttering, “feels good pretty?” his voice sounds so sweet even though your body trembles and goes limp already.
he manhandles your body like it's nothing, yanking your legs just to straddle you from behind. the only thing you can do is whine and babble, your brain feeling hazy already. “mhmmm,” you slur out, drooling as jeongin leans over your small frame, the tip of his cock sliding between your sticky folds as he laughs at the state of you. “look at you baby, makin’ such a mess.” he tuts condescendingly as he wipes the line of drool off your chin before gripping your jaw to pull you into a sloppy kiss. you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back into his cock, needy for it.
“pleeeease jeongin, need you to fuck me please.” you whine at him. but for a split second he paused at how desperate you are for him, a wide grin plastered on his face before lightly slapping your cheek a couple times. “don’t worry pretty, i’ll give it to you. no complaints later.” he muttered the last part out before roughly shoving your face down back into the pillow with a small yelp.
jeongin’s fucking into you so deep, drilling his hips as he hits that bundle of nerves in your sopping pussy making you cry out each time. “fu-u-u-ck, ngh, innie!” you’re too loud, jeongin wrapping a fistful of your hair to pull your body up as he pounds into you doggy. deep groans leave his mouth as slimy strings of your juices and his connects between your pussy and his pelvis. “shit, baby, you can’t even think straight, hah, can you?” his cock scraping against your gummy walls so good your body quivering in his grip. “ngh, i-i, ahh, dunno,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head making jeongin sigh. already fucked you dumb this quick. he lets go of your hair and instantly pulls out. the loss of warmth making you whine before he flips you over to shove you onto your back. jeongin immediately straddled you before slipping his cock straight back in, the new angle reaching deeper that had you seeing stars. “don’t you worry about a thing baby, i got you.” he taunts in that sickening sweet voice of his as a hand slowly wraps around the nape of your neck.
“quit your moving.” he growls into your ear as he fucks another orgasm out of you. the overstimulation makes your vision blurry as you clench around his fat cock. there’s no recovery time as you weakly gurgle and fight beneath his strong build but he's not letting you go. he can’t stop smiling at you, a glint in his eyes as he kisses and sucks on every inch of skin he can find. sweat dripping down your bodies as he plays with you. eyes narrowing down on your fucked out face as he grips your chin to force you to look at him. “you in there yn?” he scoffs at you, head tilting as he waits for any sort of response from you. a pathetic grunt came out from you before nodding up at him.
“feeling good? want me to stop?”
you shake your head no because fuck, you can handle this. you can take it. and jeongin makes sure to tell you this. filthy mean degrading praises whispered into your ear as he fucks into you again. he’s so mean. so mean. tears pricking on your eyes that he just wipes away. “shh my pretty girl, i know.” he says so gently you can’t help but hiccup on your sobs as he kisses you so softly but his hips thrusts into you like a mutt. his orgasm is fast approaching as his head drops to your shoulder.
“yeahhh that’s my good girl. good job baby, ‘m so close. fuck.” he moans before pumping thick ropes deep into your ruined pussy. you gasp at the warm feeling as you feel jeongin tremble on top of you, slowly pulling out as the last dribbles of cum spill out. body wrecked thorough and mind so fucked. there’s no harm for a round two, right? ♡
a/n: had a wet dream abt spiky gingery i.n and woke up n missed him sb so i wrote this lmfaoooo so pls have spiky gingery i.n in mind when reading pls for full effect
genre♡ smut, mdni. 18+
drabble♡ thinking abt dumbification with jeongin..
warnings♡ dumbification duh, jeongin is naasstyyyyy, all up in that ass, manhandling, light slapping, rough sex, messy, he's kinda mean tho, he checks up on reader tho, overstim, creampie,
thinking about being face down and ass up into a mean arch with jeongin slobbering all over your pussy and crack. he's gripping onto the fat cheeks to stop your squirming as you weakly kick out from underneath him in a broken mess already. the flat of his tongue dragging from your clit all the way up through your sticky folds to your asshole. jeongin groans as he finally pulls away, spitting a glob of spit onto your folds before muttering, “feels good pretty?” his voice sounds so sweet even though your body trembles and goes limp already.
he manhandles your body like it's nothing, yanking your legs just to straddle you from behind. the only thing you can do is whine and babble, your brain feeling hazy already. “mhmmm,” you slur out, drooling as jeongin leans over your small frame, the tip of his cock sliding between your sticky folds as he laughs at the state of you. “look at you baby, makin’ such a mess.” he tuts condescendingly as he wipes the line of drool off your chin before gripping your jaw to pull you into a sloppy kiss. you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back into his cock, needy for it.
“pleeeease jeongin, need you to fuck me please.” you whine at him. but for a split second he paused at how desperate you are for him, a wide grin plastered on his face before lightly slapping your cheek a couple times. “don’t worry pretty, i’ll give it to you. no complaints later.” he muttered the last part out before roughly shoving your face down back into the pillow with a small yelp.
jeongin’s fucking into you so deep, drilling his hips as he hits that bundle of nerves in your sopping pussy making you cry out each time. “fu-u-u-ck, ngh, innie!” you’re too loud, jeongin wrapping a fistful of your hair to pull your body up as he pounds into you doggy. deep groans leave his mouth as slimy strings of your juices and his connects between your pussy and his pelvis. “shit, baby, you can’t even think straight, hah, can you?” his cock scraping against your gummy walls so good your body quivering in his grip. “ngh, i-i, ahh, dunno,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head making jeongin sigh. already fucked you dumb this quick. he lets go of your hair and instantly pulls out. the loss of warmth making you whine before he flips you over to shove you onto your back. jeongin immediately straddled you before slipping his cock straight back in, the new angle reaching deeper that had you seeing stars. “don’t you worry about a thing baby, i got you.” he taunts in that sickening sweet voice of his as a hand slowly wraps around the nape of your neck.
“quit your moving.” he growls into your ear as he fucks another orgasm out of you. the overstimulation makes your vision blurry as you clench around his fat cock. there’s no recovery time as you weakly gurgle and fight beneath his strong build but he's not letting you go. he can’t stop smiling at you, a glint in his eyes as he kisses and sucks on every inch of skin he can find. sweat dripping down your bodies as he plays with you. eyes narrowing down on your fucked out face as he grips your chin to force you to look at him. “you in there yn?” he scoffs at you, head tilting as he waits for any sort of response from you. a pathetic grunt came out from you before nodding up at him.
“feeling good? want me to stop?”
you shake your head no because fuck, you can handle this. you can take it. and jeongin makes sure to tell you this. filthy mean degrading praises whispered into your ear as he fucks into you again. he’s so mean. so mean. tears pricking on your eyes that he just wipes away. “shh my pretty girl, i know.” he says so gently you can’t help but hiccup on your sobs as he kisses you so softly but his hips thrusts into you like a mutt. his orgasm is fast approaching as his head drops to your shoulder.
“yeahhh that’s my good girl. good job baby, ‘m so close. fuck.” he moans before pumping thick ropes deep into your ruined pussy. you gasp at the warm feeling as you feel jeongin tremble on top of you, slowly pulling out as the last dribbles of cum spill out. body wrecked thorough and mind so fucked. there’s no harm for a round two, right? ♡
Synopsis: Mingi told you that he wanted to wait until marriage to have sex, and you were willing to wait it out.
Pairing: Song Mingi x F!reader
Warnings: loss of virginity, abstinence (not for religious reasons), unprotected sex, creampies, praise, pet names (baby, angel, good boy like one time), missionary, premature ejaculation, it's pretty vanilla ngl, lingerie, desperate mingi, not proofread
Word count: 2.7k
a/n: This fic almost jinjja killed me. It's my first time writing anything like this and my first time actually writing smut that's not in headcanon form. The ending is pretty rushed bc I was ready to delete this whole story. I'll be trying improve my writing so I can stop self deprecating in my author notes lmao. Hopefully y'all enjoy regardless!!
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Mingi was open about his abstinence. He was the type of person who thought of sex as the ultimate form of vulnerability, and he wasn't well equipped to be vulnerable to just anyone, so he just chose to wait for the right partner to be vulnerable with.
Most of his romantic endeavors failed because of his preference. The same excuses were used every time he was broken up with:
“I just can't wait that long.”
“It's not that serious, it's just sex.”
“I don't want to end up pressuring you.”
He didn't necessarily blame anyone for not wanting him, but all of the rejection did leave a heavy feeling in his chest. Did these women only want him for his looks? Was he not interesting enough? Should he just cave in and have sex with the next person he meets?
All of these doubts and questions swirled through Mingi's head; until he met you.
The two of you met through a mutual friend, Yunho, and hit it off immediately. On the very first date Mingi told you about his abstinence, about his many failures in trying to form a meaningful connection, and how he plans on sticking to his morals. He further explained that he wanted to wait until he was married to have sex.
At first, you were taken aback. You were somewhat opposite of Mingi; you'd slept around quite a bit, so dating someone who was quite literally a virgin and possibly having to wait god knows how long to have sex? That wasn't something you thought you could deal with. Also, you weren't exactly thinking about marriage at the moment; you just wanted something casual. With all of this in mind, you were almost getting ready to break his heart again, but you didn't realize that Mingi would sway you so quickly.
He was so sweet and attentive. You always had a good laugh when you were around Mingi; there was never a dull moment between the two of you, even in silence, there was always some sort of energy floating around.
The first few weeks were pure bliss. You and Mingi were inseparable, always going on dates, staying overnight at each other's houses, MIngi would even bring you lunch on your break from work. Eventually he asked to be your boyfriend, and you accepted without a single doubt. You didn't care about his abstinence; you were willing to wait for Mingi, he had so much more to offer than just sex. That didn't mean that things didn't get… heated at times.
There were nights where the two of you would get into a prolonged makeout session, both grinding into each other desperately. Either you or Mingi reluctantly stopping before you two crossed the line. It was frustrating for you both, but you had to keep each other accountable.
A year had passed, and he asked you to marry him, and it'd be an understatement to say how excited y'all were. Wedding planning was hectic, but everything worked out fine. You and Mingi landed on a small, private ceremony with only your close family and friends in attendance. The reception would have more people and be like a day party than anything. You two even planned for all of the events to be earlier in the day so you can recoup and enjoy your first wedding night without being completely worn.
Your wedding was perfect, a few years back you never thought you'd be in this situation already, but being with Mingi meant that it was worth it.
Tonight was the night, and you were more nervous than you thought you'd be. To be fair, you haven't had sex in about a year and a half. Mingi was waiting just outside of the bathroom, on the bed, probably waiting for you to get out of the bathroom. You were fresh out of the shower, decompressed and stress free; for the most part. You lifted your head to the mirror that was above the sink, checking yourself out.
You wanted to make this special for the both of you, especially Mingi since this would be his first time having sex, so you decided to dress up a little bit.
You had on a white lingerie set embroidered with lace that actually looked a lot like the wedding dress that you wore in your ceremony and reception. It fit you in all the right places. The bra gave you a slight lift and further down your panties made your ass look perfect.
You were ready to walk out even though you were a complete bundle of nerves.
Mingi's eyes landed on you instantly as the door swung open, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with just a pair of grey sweatpants on, the top half of his body was bare and his hair was still a bit damp from the shower he took before you.
His jaw went slack as he took in your figure. He was already half hard from just the anticipation of tonight, but he felt himself growing just by the sight of you. He broke the tension first.
“Shit angel, you look so good.”
“Really?”
Mingi stood up and closed the distance between you, placing his hands on your hips naturally. In this position his eyes were burning into yours, the need inside of them unmistakable.
“Yes really, you look perfect.”
And then it was your turn to make a move. You placed your hand on his chest gently, feeling the sturdiness of his body and the growing beat drumming from inside. You pushed on him lightly, signaling you wanted him to back up, he complied. “Then get on the bed Min, let me take care of you.”
All Mingi could do was nod, his entire body was trembling from a mixture of lust and anxiousness. He'd imagined this day for a long time, and it was finally here. He wasn't completely innocent; he watches porn (well, at least before y'all got together. now he jerks off strictly to pictures and videos of you) and masturbates like a ‘normal’ person, so he wasn't completely clueless.
When you and Mingi discussed what would happen on your wedding night, both of you ultimately decided on going with the flow and not making it a big thing. But it was a big thing for Mingi, his first time. He was sure he'd enjoy having sex with you, but what if he didn't perform well? He was completely inexperienced, how could he possibly make you feel good? His mind started to spiral and you saw it in the subtle change of his expression.
Luckily for Mingi, you always knew how he was feeling and how to remedy it.
You pushed him completely onto the bed, his body going limp as he laid flat on his back. He looked back up at you, doubt still riddled over his face.
“Don't worry about anything, Mingi. I've got you.” You said in a somewhat teasing tone, but it was laced with truth. You were going to make sure that he had a great first time.
You climbed on top of him, thighs caging his hips in. You hovered just enough to not make contact yet.
“Can I kiss you?” You already knew what he was going to say, but you were still cautious.
Mingi answered quickly, breathing already labored “Yes.."
With that you leaned down to press your lips against his, and this felt like your first kiss with Mingi all over again. It felt electric, there was adrenaline coursing through your veins as you kissed your husband with frantic need. Mingi brought one arm around your waist and tangled his other free hand into your hair, deepening the kiss. Everything felt right.
You decided to take the lead and slip your tongue into his mouth causing Mingi to go breathless and let small whimpers escape, egging you on. You explored his mouth, making sure every inch felt the heat of your tongue while you started to grind down on his bulge; you could tell he was fully hard now.
Mingi pulled you away by your hair as he threw his head back, hips rutting up into yours.
“Jus-…just like that baby, fuck.”
You used this chance to change your target area towards the curve of his neck and collar bones, practically making out with it. You left small bites and hickeys all over, Mingi was squirming underneath you now, you knew that he needed more, but you weren't letting up until he asked properly.
Traveling up his neck with small kisses, you finally land on the lobe of his ear and bit down on it lightly. Then, you licked the shell of Mingi's ear, earning a strong shudder from the man.
“You want more, Min?” You whisper.
“Yes please, I want you so bad right now.”
You shook your head, that wasn't enough for you “Be more specific, I can't take care of you if you don't tell me what you want. Hm?”
There was a pause, like Mingi was genuinely pondering on what he wanted you to do to him. He's had so many fantasies about how this night would go, so naturally, he was stuck weighing his options.
“I…I want you to ride me first.” he mutters
“Good boy.” You smile, sitting up more and caressing Mingi's hair. He leans into your touch, reveling in the praise.
You begin to scoot down his body, trailing small kisses down his chest and nipples, until you eventually get to the waistband of his sweatpants. Wasting no time you pull down his pants and boxers down to about mid thigh in one swift motion. His cock sprung out and bobbed against his stomach, already leaking. He was big. You knew this already because you've seen every inch of him already, but you've never had him inside of you; mouth or cunt.
You wanted to taste him, so naturally you grabbed his dick and gave one small kitten lick on his slit before looking up to gauge Mingi's reaction; he hissed at the sensation, all of this was so new to him that it was a bit overwhelming.
“You feel so good, keep going.”
“What's the magic word?” You tease, wrapping your lips around his entire tip while sucking hard.
Mingi couldn't even answer, he just moaned loudly and bucked up to try and fit more of himself into your mouth, you didn't let him. He was already so close, you could tell he was by the way he was twitching in your mouth already. Cute.
As much as you'd enjoy him cumming down your throat, you wanted to save that for another time. You came very prepared today, you even prepped yourself earlier so Mingi wouldn't have to worry about doing it, you'd teach him how to finger you later; all you wanted right now was him. You just hoped you did enough to be able to take him properly.
You lifted yourself up once again, moving the crotch of your panties to the side and hovering above Mingi's dick. You grabbed hold of it, stroking him at a gruesome pace.
“I'm gonna ride you Min, but you have to take everything I give you. Okay?”
“I can be good for you, I wanna be good for you baby” He practically whispers it, the anticipation was too much.
You tease your hole with his tip for a few seconds, and then sink down on him slowly.
“Hngh- fuck wait..” Mingi groans before he thrusts up, making you bottom out. You feel him rut against you once, then twice. He lets out a long moan, the part of his face that you can see is beet red because he's covering most of it with his arm.
Mingi just came inside of you. You weren't disappointed or making fun of it; actually it was pretty hot. Yes, he was a virgin so it was only natural, but the fact that you could even make him cum that quickly gave you a huge ego boost.
“I'm sorry angel, I..I didn't mean to. It's just-”
“Shhh” you cut him off by grinding down on him, you could tell he was getting overstimulated by the way he was writhing under you.
“Can you go another round, or do you want a break?”
“No, no I wanna go another round. Let me… I want to make you cum too.” There was embarrassment in his tone, but also determination
Mingi lifted you off of him and flipped the both of you over. You were on the bottom now. He positioned himself back in front of your pussy with renewed focus. He pushed himself back inside of you slowly, making sure he didn't hurt you and cum again in less than thirty seconds.
“Gonna make my girl feel good” he panted. Mingi was saying it more to himself than he was to you. He was still overstimulated but pushed through.
Earlier, you didn’t really get the chance to register how big he was. Now you felt it with full force when he was fully inside of you again. You were now the breathless one as you clutched the sheets under you, searching for any way to ground yourself.
“Min, you’re so big.”
“Am I baby? Does it feel good?” He was genuinely asking —your pleasure being the only thing on his mind even as he was actively falling apart above you.
“Mhm” is all you could muster up.
MIngi held your hips in a bruising hold as he started to snap his hips forward; it wasnt' fast or hard, he was too scared to do that yet. He started at a hesitant pace. “You feel good too, you're so fucking tight. I'm not gonna last."
His words are getting filthier as he starts to speed up, fucking into you more recklessly. Mingi lacked technique, but his eagerness and size certainly made up for it. He didn't need to aim for a specific spot for you to start to lose yourself in pleasure when he was hitting every spot.
You could feel yourself getting close too; you weren't the only one who hasn't had sex in a long time.
“Mingi, touch me here.” you breath out as you grab one of his hands that have a steel grip on your hips and bring his index and middle fingers to your neglected clit; all red and puffy. You guide his fingers to move in tight circles.
“Yeah..” he mutters. Not needing your aid anymore in rubbing your clit, he sets his own pace that makes your pussy flutter around him. “Is my pretty girl about to cum?” The way you were squeezing his dick made him want to come inside you a second time, but he wanted- no needed you to come first.
You couldn't even tell who was louder: your moans, Mingi's, or the sound of your hips clapping together. Maybe it was all three, you didn't really care at this point.
“Yes Min, I'm so close. Keep doing tha- shit.”
It was all making you dizzy. You thought that you could last a little longer but you heard Mingi chanting your name under his breath; pure lust and need in his voice. Without even warning Mingi, you came harder than you think you ever have, your orgasm crashed through you as your back arched off the bed. Your hips were still greedily trying to fuck back into Mingi's as you chased to prolong your orgasm.
You clenching around his dick impossibly tighter and the way you were desperately grinding into him had Mingi following suit shortly after you. The only sounds that filled the room were pants and moans as the both of you came down from your highs. Mingi had completely collapsed on top of you, he was heavy but you really didn't care much as you were trying to recover from the orgasm you just had.
After a few moments Mingi finally freed you from his weight and rolled off of you, still trying to process what just happened. He turned to you with a smirk on his face.
“Let's go again.”
“No doofus, we're going to bed.” you replied before you got up to turn on the shower again.
Mingi pouted, but he figured that the two of you probably did need to get some rest. There was always tomorrow.
Synopsis: Mingi told you that he wanted to wait until marriage to have sex, and you were willing to wait it out.
Pairing: Song Mingi x F!reader
Warnings: loss of virginity, abstinence (not for religious reasons), unprotected sex, creampies, praise, pet names (baby, angel, good boy like one time), missionary, premature ejaculation, it's pretty vanilla ngl, lingerie, desperate mingi, not proofread
Word count: 2.7k
a/n: This fic almost jinjja killed me. It's my first time writing anything like this and my first time actually writing smut that's not in headcanon form. The ending is pretty rushed bc I was ready to delete this whole story. I'll be trying improve my writing so I can stop self deprecating in my author notes lmao. Hopefully y'all enjoy regardless!!
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Mingi was open about his abstinence. He was the type of person who thought of sex as the ultimate form of vulnerability, and he wasn't well equipped to be vulnerable to just anyone, so he just chose to wait for the right partner to be vulnerable with.
Most of his romantic endeavors failed because of his preference. The same excuses were used every time he was broken up with:
“I just can't wait that long.”
“It's not that serious, it's just sex.”
“I don't want to end up pressuring you.”
He didn't necessarily blame anyone for not wanting him, but all of the rejection did leave a heavy feeling in his chest. Did these women only want him for his looks? Was he not interesting enough? Should he just cave in and have sex with the next person he meets?
All of these doubts and questions swirled through Mingi's head; until he met you.
The two of you met through a mutual friend, Yunho, and hit it off immediately. On the very first date Mingi told you about his abstinence, about his many failures in trying to form a meaningful connection, and how he plans on sticking to his morals. He further explained that he wanted to wait until he was married to have sex.
At first, you were taken aback. You were somewhat opposite of Mingi; you'd slept around quite a bit, so dating someone who was quite literally a virgin and possibly having to wait god knows how long to have sex? That wasn't something you thought you could deal with. Also, you weren't exactly thinking about marriage at the moment; you just wanted something casual. With all of this in mind, you were almost getting ready to break his heart again, but you didn't realize that Mingi would sway you so quickly.
He was so sweet and attentive. You always had a good laugh when you were around Mingi; there was never a dull moment between the two of you, even in silence, there was always some sort of energy floating around.
The first few weeks were pure bliss. You and Mingi were inseparable, always going on dates, staying overnight at each other's houses, MIngi would even bring you lunch on your break from work. Eventually he asked to be your boyfriend, and you accepted without a single doubt. You didn't care about his abstinence; you were willing to wait for Mingi, he had so much more to offer than just sex. That didn't mean that things didn't get… heated at times.
There were nights where the two of you would get into a prolonged makeout session, both grinding into each other desperately. Either you or Mingi reluctantly stopping before you two crossed the line. It was frustrating for you both, but you had to keep each other accountable.
A year had passed, and he asked you to marry him, and it'd be an understatement to say how excited y'all were. Wedding planning was hectic, but everything worked out fine. You and Mingi landed on a small, private ceremony with only your close family and friends in attendance. The reception would have more people and be like a day party than anything. You two even planned for all of the events to be earlier in the day so you can recoup and enjoy your first wedding night without being completely worn.
Your wedding was perfect, a few years back you never thought you'd be in this situation already, but being with Mingi meant that it was worth it.
Tonight was the night, and you were more nervous than you thought you'd be. To be fair, you haven't had sex in about a year and a half. Mingi was waiting just outside of the bathroom, on the bed, probably waiting for you to get out of the bathroom. You were fresh out of the shower, decompressed and stress free; for the most part. You lifted your head to the mirror that was above the sink, checking yourself out.
You wanted to make this special for the both of you, especially Mingi since this would be his first time having sex, so you decided to dress up a little bit.
You had on a white lingerie set embroidered with lace that actually looked a lot like the wedding dress that you wore in your ceremony and reception. It fit you in all the right places. The bra gave you a slight lift and further down your panties made your ass look perfect.
You were ready to walk out even though you were a complete bundle of nerves.
Mingi's eyes landed on you instantly as the door swung open, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with just a pair of grey sweatpants on, the top half of his body was bare and his hair was still a bit damp from the shower he took before you.
His jaw went slack as he took in your figure. He was already half hard from just the anticipation of tonight, but he felt himself growing just by the sight of you. He broke the tension first.
“Shit angel, you look so good.”
“Really?”
Mingi stood up and closed the distance between you, placing his hands on your hips naturally. In this position his eyes were burning into yours, the need inside of them unmistakable.
“Yes really, you look perfect.”
And then it was your turn to make a move. You placed your hand on his chest gently, feeling the sturdiness of his body and the growing beat drumming from inside. You pushed on him lightly, signaling you wanted him to back up, he complied. “Then get on the bed Min, let me take care of you.”
All Mingi could do was nod, his entire body was trembling from a mixture of lust and anxiousness. He'd imagined this day for a long time, and it was finally here. He wasn't completely innocent; he watches porn (well, at least before y'all got together. now he jerks off strictly to pictures and videos of you) and masturbates like a ‘normal’ person, so he wasn't completely clueless.
When you and Mingi discussed what would happen on your wedding night, both of you ultimately decided on going with the flow and not making it a big thing. But it was a big thing for Mingi, his first time. He was sure he'd enjoy having sex with you, but what if he didn't perform well? He was completely inexperienced, how could he possibly make you feel good? His mind started to spiral and you saw it in the subtle change of his expression.
Luckily for Mingi, you always knew how he was feeling and how to remedy it.
You pushed him completely onto the bed, his body going limp as he laid flat on his back. He looked back up at you, doubt still riddled over his face.
“Don't worry about anything, Mingi. I've got you.” You said in a somewhat teasing tone, but it was laced with truth. You were going to make sure that he had a great first time.
You climbed on top of him, thighs caging his hips in. You hovered just enough to not make contact yet.
“Can I kiss you?” You already knew what he was going to say, but you were still cautious.
Mingi answered quickly, breathing already labored “Yes.."
With that you leaned down to press your lips against his, and this felt like your first kiss with Mingi all over again. It felt electric, there was adrenaline coursing through your veins as you kissed your husband with frantic need. Mingi brought one arm around your waist and tangled his other free hand into your hair, deepening the kiss. Everything felt right.
You decided to take the lead and slip your tongue into his mouth causing Mingi to go breathless and let small whimpers escape, egging you on. You explored his mouth, making sure every inch felt the heat of your tongue while you started to grind down on his bulge; you could tell he was fully hard now.
Mingi pulled you away by your hair as he threw his head back, hips rutting up into yours.
“Jus-…just like that baby, fuck.”
You used this chance to change your target area towards the curve of his neck and collar bones, practically making out with it. You left small bites and hickeys all over, Mingi was squirming underneath you now, you knew that he needed more, but you weren't letting up until he asked properly.
Traveling up his neck with small kisses, you finally land on the lobe of his ear and bit down on it lightly. Then, you licked the shell of Mingi's ear, earning a strong shudder from the man.
“You want more, Min?” You whisper.
“Yes please, I want you so bad right now.”
You shook your head, that wasn't enough for you “Be more specific, I can't take care of you if you don't tell me what you want. Hm?”
There was a pause, like Mingi was genuinely pondering on what he wanted you to do to him. He's had so many fantasies about how this night would go, so naturally, he was stuck weighing his options.
“I…I want you to ride me first.” he mutters
“Good boy.” You smile, sitting up more and caressing Mingi's hair. He leans into your touch, reveling in the praise.
You begin to scoot down his body, trailing small kisses down his chest and nipples, until you eventually get to the waistband of his sweatpants. Wasting no time you pull down his pants and boxers down to about mid thigh in one swift motion. His cock sprung out and bobbed against his stomach, already leaking. He was big. You knew this already because you've seen every inch of him already, but you've never had him inside of you; mouth or cunt.
You wanted to taste him, so naturally you grabbed his dick and gave one small kitten lick on his slit before looking up to gauge Mingi's reaction; he hissed at the sensation, all of this was so new to him that it was a bit overwhelming.
“You feel so good, keep going.”
“What's the magic word?” You tease, wrapping your lips around his entire tip while sucking hard.
Mingi couldn't even answer, he just moaned loudly and bucked up to try and fit more of himself into your mouth, you didn't let him. He was already so close, you could tell he was by the way he was twitching in your mouth already. Cute.
As much as you'd enjoy him cumming down your throat, you wanted to save that for another time. You came very prepared today, you even prepped yourself earlier so Mingi wouldn't have to worry about doing it, you'd teach him how to finger you later; all you wanted right now was him. You just hoped you did enough to be able to take him properly.
You lifted yourself up once again, moving the crotch of your panties to the side and hovering above Mingi's dick. You grabbed hold of it, stroking him at a gruesome pace.
“I'm gonna ride you Min, but you have to take everything I give you. Okay?”
“I can be good for you, I wanna be good for you baby” He practically whispers it, the anticipation was too much.
You tease your hole with his tip for a few seconds, and then sink down on him slowly.
“Hngh- fuck wait..” Mingi groans before he thrusts up, making you bottom out. You feel him rut against you once, then twice. He lets out a long moan, the part of his face that you can see is beet red because he's covering most of it with his arm.
Mingi just came inside of you. You weren't disappointed or making fun of it; actually it was pretty hot. Yes, he was a virgin so it was only natural, but the fact that you could even make him cum that quickly gave you a huge ego boost.
“I'm sorry angel, I..I didn't mean to. It's just-”
“Shhh” you cut him off by grinding down on him, you could tell he was getting overstimulated by the way he was writhing under you.
“Can you go another round, or do you want a break?”
“No, no I wanna go another round. Let me… I want to make you cum too.” There was embarrassment in his tone, but also determination
Mingi lifted you off of him and flipped the both of you over. You were on the bottom now. He positioned himself back in front of your pussy with renewed focus. He pushed himself back inside of you slowly, making sure he didn't hurt you and cum again in less than thirty seconds.
“Gonna make my girl feel good” he panted. Mingi was saying it more to himself than he was to you. He was still overstimulated but pushed through.
Earlier, you didn’t really get the chance to register how big he was. Now you felt it with full force when he was fully inside of you again. You were now the breathless one as you clutched the sheets under you, searching for any way to ground yourself.
“Min, you’re so big.”
“Am I baby? Does it feel good?” He was genuinely asking —your pleasure being the only thing on his mind even as he was actively falling apart above you.
“Mhm” is all you could muster up.
MIngi held your hips in a bruising hold as he started to snap his hips forward; it wasnt' fast or hard, he was too scared to do that yet. He started at a hesitant pace. “You feel good too, you're so fucking tight. I'm not gonna last."
His words are getting filthier as he starts to speed up, fucking into you more recklessly. Mingi lacked technique, but his eagerness and size certainly made up for it. He didn't need to aim for a specific spot for you to start to lose yourself in pleasure when he was hitting every spot.
You could feel yourself getting close too; you weren't the only one who hasn't had sex in a long time.
“Mingi, touch me here.” you breath out as you grab one of his hands that have a steel grip on your hips and bring his index and middle fingers to your neglected clit; all red and puffy. You guide his fingers to move in tight circles.
“Yeah..” he mutters. Not needing your aid anymore in rubbing your clit, he sets his own pace that makes your pussy flutter around him. “Is my pretty girl about to cum?” The way you were squeezing his dick made him want to come inside you a second time, but he wanted- no needed you to come first.
You couldn't even tell who was louder: your moans, Mingi's, or the sound of your hips clapping together. Maybe it was all three, you didn't really care at this point.
“Yes Min, I'm so close. Keep doing tha- shit.”
It was all making you dizzy. You thought that you could last a little longer but you heard Mingi chanting your name under his breath; pure lust and need in his voice. Without even warning Mingi, you came harder than you think you ever have, your orgasm crashed through you as your back arched off the bed. Your hips were still greedily trying to fuck back into Mingi's as you chased to prolong your orgasm.
You clenching around his dick impossibly tighter and the way you were desperately grinding into him had Mingi following suit shortly after you. The only sounds that filled the room were pants and moans as the both of you came down from your highs. Mingi had completely collapsed on top of you, he was heavy but you really didn't care much as you were trying to recover from the orgasm you just had.
After a few moments Mingi finally freed you from his weight and rolled off of you, still trying to process what just happened. He turned to you with a smirk on his face.
“Let's go again.”
“No doofus, we're going to bed.” you replied before you got up to turn on the shower again.
Mingi pouted, but he figured that the two of you probably did need to get some rest. There was always tomorrow.
Contents: smut, mentions of past sexual issues with an ex, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, heavy praise, may or may not be super self indulgent
San’s thumb ran along the line of your panties.
“Tell me if you need to stop.” San said looking up at you with soft loving eyes. He understood your apprehension. He had heard the stories of how your ex would shame you for certain things, especially surrounding sex. He knew it left lasting scars, and San being the amazing boyfriend he was, was determined to help you heal.
When it comes to oral sex, you had an issue. Your ex had made you feel like pleasuring you was a chore, and a disgusting one at that. He always said you tasted weird and that he hated doing it. San, however, was the complete opposite.
He never pushed, but wanted to make you feel good so bad. To show you that your body was a gift to him. One that should be treated with love, respect, and most of all devotion. So after months of asking, waiting patiently until you said you were ready, here you are. Laid out before him like he’d dreamed of many times. He pressed a chaste kiss to each of your hips before pressing another to the little pink bow that adorned the top of your panties.
“We can always stop, baby. Just say the word.” You gave him a nervous nod. “Tell me you want this, love.” Your eyes darted down to his.
“I do, Sannie. I really do. I just-” You cut yourself off with a frustrated huff. San was quick to crawl up your body. His large hands cupped your face, searching your eyes for the words you couldn’t say.
“We don’t have to.” He said with a soft smile and shake of his head. But you shook yours in return.
“No, I want to do this for you.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
“Then let me show you how good it can feel.” You gave a small nod. He pressed one more sweet kiss to your lips before he kissed his way back down your body.
“Just relax, my love. Focus on me.” He looked up for one more sign of conformation before slowly peeling off your panties. He spread your legs just as slow, searching for any hesitation or discomfort. “You’re so beautiful. Every piece of you.” He said pressing kisses along your right inner thigh. “Especially here.” He pressed the lightest of kisses to the spot above your clit. He reached up, pulling your hand to his, interlacing your fingers. “Focus on me.” He reiterated. Not a command, a safety net.
He slowly licked an experimental stripe. You squirmed at the feeling. Half in pleasure, half in unease. He backed off, kissing around your thighs again until your breath slowed down.
“Can I keep going?” He looked up. You nodded. He licked another stripe, this time deeper. His tongue caught on your clit, circling slowly before his lips wrapped around it, sucking softly on the bud. A soft moan escaped your lips.
“Good, baby. You’re doing so good.” He said before continuing. He pulled you closer to his face. You fought the urge to tell him to stop. Ask him if it tastes okay. If he still wants you after having you like this. He sensed your mind wandering. “Stay with me, baby.” You brought your wandering mind back to your boyfriend. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the feeling of his tongue against you. How good it felt, and not all the trauma from your past.
San’s exploration moved deeper, as his tongue softly and slowly slipped inside of you. A gasp came out before you could stop it. You swore you felt San smile against you.
“Just like that, baby. Just like that.” His tongue continued to prod and poke and his mouth to suck. It felt so good, but… it just wasn’t happening.
“Sannie.” He stopped immediately, looking up at you.
“What’s wrong, my love?” You let out a huff, frustrated tears coming to your eyes.
“I can’t do it.” He quickly came back up to shush you gently.
“You can. I know you can, baby. My strong girl.” He rested his forehead against his. “Please let me keep going. You taste so good.” You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. When you didn’t find one, you sighed.
“I just don’t think I can cum.” To your surprise, San gave you a soft smile. He smoothed your hair.
“If you’re willing to let me, I’ll get you there. I promise.” You gave him an unsure look. He gave you a loving kiss. “You deserve to feel good. Please let me give that to you.” You rested your head against his for a second before nodding.
“We can try again.” San smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.
“That’s my girl.” He settled back between your legs, rubbing at your hips to help ground you. His lips once again found your clit and you tried your best to relax into the pleasure.
He built you up slowly. Every lick, suck, hum filled with love and reassuring. You let your hand drift down to card through his dark hair. Playing with it as you tried your best to stay present in the love he was providing.
As slowly as his tongue was moving, he brought a finger to your entrance, dipping it inside shallowly a few times before pushing it in. His name fell from your lips as you squirmed under him. His left arm came across your hips, gently grounding you and holding you in place. He worked the finger in and out in time with his tongue. Adding a second as he hummed around your clit. You arched off the bed as best as you could with his arm barring you in place.
“Sannie, oh my god.” You said softly. He didn’t reply, just continued what he was doing. He’d do this until his jaw ached if it meant finally getting to see his beautiful girlfriend cum on his tongue.
Somewhere along the way, it started really worked. You moaned his name in that higher pitch, the pitch that was music to his ears.
“You’re right there, baby. I can feel it. Give it to me.” He kept the slow, same pace to his fingers. Slowly, but calculatedly pushing in and out rubbing so deliciously against that spot.
“San, I think-” He sucked harder on your clit speeding up his fingers ever so slightly before you finally broke. A cry of his name fell from your lips in almost a sob. He kept doing exactly what he was doing. Working you through your orgasm, moaning at the taste of your cum. He didn’t stop until you weakly pushed his head back a bit.
He came up, slowing scooping you into his chest. He held you tightly, grounding you to him, kissing softly at your hairline and stroking your cheek.
“I’m so proud of you, baby. You did such a good job.” He said as he coddled you. “My brave girl.” He praised. He slowly rearranged you so you could lay on his chest. He stroked your back whispering soft praises in your ear.
“Was it really good?” You asked quietly, almost shyly.
“It was better than I dreamed of, baby. You were perfect. You are perfect.” He held you close. “I have no clue what that asshole was talking about. I could do that every day and die a happy man.” You laughed softly at his hyperbole.
“Shut up.”
“No, I mean it.” He punctuated with a kiss to you head. There was a soft pause, a moment of blissful silence. “Thank you for trusting me.” He said earnestly.
“Thank you for not giving up on me.” You said, drawing soft circles on his bare chest.
Sypnosis: You and your best friend, Mingi are having a simple movie night, and nothing new will happen, right. Right?
tags/warnings: SMUT, alcohol consumption, drunk sex, CONSENSUAL sex, kissing, making out, biting, nipple biting, finger sucking, precum eating (?), grinding, Mingi whimpers (letting y'all know), riding, unprotected sex (do not do this my dearest), creampie (guilty!), a twiiinge of plot if we squint.
w/c: 2.3k
a/n: what can I even say?
You lean your head back on the couch, and stretch out your legs on the plush rug that you both sat on. Mingi was sitting next to you, his eyes focused on the movie playing on the tv, his legs splayed out next to yours.
He picks up the bottle from his side and takes a huge gulp and then offers it to you. That's what you two have been doing for the better part of the last hour, tossing the bottle of whiskey between two of you. Your head was starting to spin a little and it was getting a little harder to focus.
You grab the bottle to take a few small sips, the alcohol leaving a trail of burning sensation in your throat, making you grimace. Mingi seems to be completely immersed in the movie, only taking his eyes off the tv to grab the bottle from your hands.
"Min, I'm bored, this movie sucks, ugh!" you groan out, your words mixing with each other, rendering a semi coherent sentence, but you know he understood what you said, he always did, a lot of times you didn't even need to say anthing for him to know what you mean. It was the years spent together, going through different stages of life, some good some bad, that had made it possible.
"Hmm? I think its pretty fun, pay attention, see the plot is getting serious now." He speaks slowly, his deep voice rumbling back and forth in your head. His eyes are still focused on the tv, but his arms find your shoulder, settling in the crevice of your neck. The warmth of his hand seeping in your skin, making your head wobble.
"I dont like it, what the hell is even happening?" you whine, trying to get the warmth of his hands out of your head.
Frustrated you snatch the bottle from his hands and drink down multiple gulps of whiskey. Mingi looks at you, raising his eyebrows, he looks .... interesting. His dark hair is a mess from his own hands ruffling them, his cheeks are a little pink from the alcohol, but his lips, oh, they look so plump, almost perfect, slightly parted, breathing heavily. His expressions drop to a frown.
"Is there something wrong? On my face?" He asks, pointing a finger to himself. You flinch slightly, shaking your head. "Nuh, I guess I'm just zoning out, huh." You know it sounds like an excuse, because it is, you were totally staring at him. He shakes his head at that, turning his eyes back to the tv with a smile that looks awfully like a smirk.
You feel like you are going insane, no way you're getting all bothered by your best friend's, by Mingi's face, it must be the alcohol, you tell yourself, even though deep down you suspect that it might not be the case.
He stretches his arms, his warm skin grazing yours, making you huff out a breath. You swear he's doing this on purpose. He knows. So two can play this game right?
You move slightly towards him, enough to lean your head on his shoulder, he goes still for a mere second before relaxing back and wrapping his arms around you, caging you in a side hug. His hands rubbing slow circles on your shoulders.
His touch is so warm, and his body next to you feels so much bigger than it does from a few feet apart. He looks careless, sipping the whiskey and watching the movie. His fingers grip the bottle, the large chunky rings he always wears shining slightly from the glow of the overhead lamps. His index fingers tap around the rim of the bottle, and you can't take your eyes off them.
Irritated, you grab his hand that held the bottle, not to snatch the bottle, no, you fold your hands around his, and take a gulp from the bottle. He looks where you two's hand join on the bottle, and then, at you gulping down, his eyes follows your lips around the bottle, to your throat and finally landing on your breasts. His eyes gets fixated on them, making you look at your boobs, your nipples are hard and visible from the thin bralette and t-shirt you are wearing.
His expressions make you realize that you have a similar effect on him as he does on you. You remove your fingers from his, the lack of touch ending whatever trance he was in, making him finally look back at the tv without making eye contact with you. His face significantly more pink than it was a few moments before.
You lay your head on his shoulder again, but move your hand to his thigh, not doing anything big, just drawing circles, like was doing to your shoulder, well, its only fair if your return the favor.
He stiffens slightly, his eyes falling to your hands on his thigh, his lips parting. He looks adorable all flustered. He tries to relax and switch his attention to the movie, but you move your hands slightly upwards, caressing his thigh slowly.
"y/n" he says your name in a hushed tone, his deep voice settling somewhere in your chest.
"Hmm?"
"Don't do this."
"Do what Min?"
"Whatever this is." he says looking at your hand on his thigh.
"Huh, now I can't touch you?"
He puts his huge hand over yours, moving it downward, his touch on yours feel electric, your eyes are settled on his rings, the way they incase his long fingers make you wonder what these beautiful fingers can do. Maybe you really are drunk.
"You can touch me, just..." he trails off.
You wrap your fingers around his, rubbing your thumb on the back his palm, "Just what, you don't like it?"
"The problem is, y/n, that I do like it."
The words fall out of his mouth, and he quickly looks away, trying to snatch his hands from yours, but you don't let him.
"Yeah?" You ask with a smirk.
"Yeah"
"Well, I might like it too, who knows."
You get up slightly and put your hand on his chest, you can feel the hard muscles beneath his t-shirt, his heartbeat rapid from the alcohol, or you. Who knows.
You snake your hand to his jaw, holding it gently, his eyes go wide and his lips part, "What do you say to that Min? Would you like that?"
He slowly nods his head, his eyes glued on yours. You lean towards him, letting your lips touch his soft, plump ones.
You kiss him softly at first, savoring the flavor of alcohol on his lips that probably mirrors yours, he kisses you back just as softly, humming when he does so. You lean further into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head. He puts his arms behind your back and pulls you on top of him, his thick thighs warm beneath you.
You move closer to him so that your chest touches his. And he tries to pull you even closer, putting his hand in your hair, grabbing a fistful. He opens his mouth letting you enter your tongue into his, a trail of saliva sliding down both of your lips.
The kiss was driving you mad, you grabbed his hair, trying to pull him even closer, you can feel yourself getting wet, warmth spreading all over your body. You can also feel his bulge, right beneath you.
He moves his hands all over your body, stopping when reaching the hem of your t-shirt, he pulls his lips back a little, a string of saliva of connecting your lips to his, "uh, y/n, can I?" He asks looking down at his hands bunching up your t-shirt, you nod frantically and kiss him again. He pulls up your t-shirt and throws it somewhere in the room and you do the same with his. You both roam your hands all over each other's bodies, your hands stop at his nipples, rubbing them softly, making him groan, he throws his head back and cups your breasts with one of his hands, his other hand slithering to your back to unhook your bralette.
You lean towards him leaving open mouth kisses on his jawline and neck and move your hips slightly, eliciting a loud groan from him. His cock under his sweats is hard, you move on top of it, slowly rocking your hips. The fabric rubbing against your clit makes you wetter as you keep moving your hips. Mingi's hands finds your hips and he starts to guide them, setting a torturous pace. You drop your head in the crook of his neck, moaning loudly from the pleasure. His groans have also turned into moans, his eyes close and head fallen back. He moves you closer and kisses you, you keep rocking your hips, not stopping the pleasure.
"Nghh– ugh, y/n don't stop, ugh—" he whimpers.
You moan into the kiss. He starts to push up his hips, wanting to increase the sweet pleasure, you move your hands downwards, pushing them under his sweats, hooking your fingers to the hem of his boxers. You look at him and he nods. You pull your body a little up and push away his sweats along with the boxer away, revealing his dick, standing against his stomach, the tip red and slick with his precum. You run your fingers over the tip, the precum collecting on your fingers. He lets out a loud moan, "nggghh- y/n please- plea—" he begs in between his breaths, his jaw dropping when he sees you put the fingers coated in his precum in your mouth, letting out a hum when tasting the slightly salty fluid.
"Please what Min? Do you want something?" You breath out, slowly sucking on your fingers.
"Ughh, you know, pleas–" you cut him off by putting those same fingers on his lips. He opens his mouth and you push them inside. He starts to suck on them, his warm tongue sliding over them. He moves his hands to your hips and pulls down your shorts. He pushes his hand in your panties, towards your cunt, your wetness coating his fingers and those chunky rings. He finds your clit and starts to rubs slow circles on it, making you moan loudly, "aarg— Mi- so good ughh–"
You take out your fingers from his mouth and tangle them back in his hair, he grabs your hips and pushes you down, so that your pussy is directly above his cock.
"Baby, I want it, can I?" he loudly whines, "Yeah–" you hiss out.
He pushes you down on him, his cock stretching you out, the sudden pleasure making you both groan, you both lean forward and kiss each other, messily, you bite on his lips slightly, before moving your hips. His hands guide your hips to set a pace so fast you think you might really lose your mind.
The pleasure grows from your lower body, enveloping you whole. His mouth finds your hard nipple, his hand on the other. You whimper as he leaves little bites on it, those whimpers develop into a loud moan when he increases the pace of his hips below you, hitting that sweet spot in you. His other hand grip your hip so hard you think it might leave a mark, not that you mind. You grab his hair and yank his head up to press your lips on his neck, sucking and biting, wanting to leave a mark of your own on his smooth skin. He removes his hand from your breast and hips letting it roam freely all over back, finally settling in your hair and neck.
"Baby– ughh it- good- ah-" he moans, his voice echoing like a sweet melody in your ears. He snakes his hand down and finds your clit, his index finger rubbing it in the same rhythm as your hips, you whine against his neck, feeling so close to your orgasm, "Min- ugh- im clo–"
"Yeah?" He breaths out, increases the pace of his fingers and pushing them a little harder on your clit, moving you so close to your orgasm. He pulls your head up and gives you a messy open mouth kiss, finally pushing you to your climax. Your body writhes on top of his, toes curling and muscles twitching, he holds onto you with one hand while his other keeps the pleasure going on your clit.
You clench around him and he whimpers, trying to pull out, "y/n, ugh- ba– stop, gonna ah- gonna cum."
"Min baby– please don't huh– move- giv– give it to me, please!"
"Baby, don't say that, aa- are you sure?"
"Min, plea- please do it." You whine between gasps as you slowly come down from your high, Mingi lets out a loud whine as his hips stutter beneath you, you feel him fill you up. The warmth climbing up your body making you sigh. He keeps on moving until his climax finishes. Exhaling a loud breath when he finally stops, slowly pulling out, leaving a cold and empty feeling inside you. He grimaces as the cold air touches him and puts his forehead against yours.
"Well."
"Well."
You both say at the same.
You look at each other for a second and burst out in giggles, laughing at yourselves.
You both wrap your hands around each other in a tight hug, "well it was a fun movie night" you say.
"Yeah it was." he replies between giggles, and picks you while standing up, "now let's get cleaned up, hmm?"
He carries you towards the washroom, and you wonder if he's into shower sex, maybe you'll fuck around and find out, you always do.
a/n: this is the first time I wrote complete like all the way smut, and let me tell you one thing, writing moans and whimpers is the most awkward thing I've done.
Sypnosis: You and your best friend, Mingi are having a simple movie night, and nothing new will happen, right. Right?
tags/warnings: SMUT, alcohol consumption, drunk sex, CONSENSUAL sex, kissing, making out, biting, nipple biting, finger sucking, precum eating (?), grinding, Mingi whimpers (letting y'all know), riding, unprotected sex (do not do this my dearest), creampie (guilty!), a twiiinge of plot if we squint.
w/c: 2.3k
a/n: what can I even say?
You lean your head back on the couch, and stretch out your legs on the plush rug that you both sat on. Mingi was sitting next to you, his eyes focused on the movie playing on the tv, his legs splayed out next to yours.
He picks up the bottle from his side and takes a huge gulp and then offers it to you. That's what you two have been doing for the better part of the last hour, tossing the bottle of whiskey between two of you. Your head was starting to spin a little and it was getting a little harder to focus.
You grab the bottle to take a few small sips, the alcohol leaving a trail of burning sensation in your throat, making you grimace. Mingi seems to be completely immersed in the movie, only taking his eyes off the tv to grab the bottle from your hands.
"Min, I'm bored, this movie sucks, ugh!" you groan out, your words mixing with each other, rendering a semi coherent sentence, but you know he understood what you said, he always did, a lot of times you didn't even need to say anthing for him to know what you mean. It was the years spent together, going through different stages of life, some good some bad, that had made it possible.
"Hmm? I think its pretty fun, pay attention, see the plot is getting serious now." He speaks slowly, his deep voice rumbling back and forth in your head. His eyes are still focused on the tv, but his arms find your shoulder, settling in the crevice of your neck. The warmth of his hand seeping in your skin, making your head wobble.
"I dont like it, what the hell is even happening?" you whine, trying to get the warmth of his hands out of your head.
Frustrated you snatch the bottle from his hands and drink down multiple gulps of whiskey. Mingi looks at you, raising his eyebrows, he looks .... interesting. His dark hair is a mess from his own hands ruffling them, his cheeks are a little pink from the alcohol, but his lips, oh, they look so plump, almost perfect, slightly parted, breathing heavily. His expressions drop to a frown.
"Is there something wrong? On my face?" He asks, pointing a finger to himself. You flinch slightly, shaking your head. "Nuh, I guess I'm just zoning out, huh." You know it sounds like an excuse, because it is, you were totally staring at him. He shakes his head at that, turning his eyes back to the tv with a smile that looks awfully like a smirk.
You feel like you are going insane, no way you're getting all bothered by your best friend's, by Mingi's face, it must be the alcohol, you tell yourself, even though deep down you suspect that it might not be the case.
He stretches his arms, his warm skin grazing yours, making you huff out a breath. You swear he's doing this on purpose. He knows. So two can play this game right?
You move slightly towards him, enough to lean your head on his shoulder, he goes still for a mere second before relaxing back and wrapping his arms around you, caging you in a side hug. His hands rubbing slow circles on your shoulders.
His touch is so warm, and his body next to you feels so much bigger than it does from a few feet apart. He looks careless, sipping the whiskey and watching the movie. His fingers grip the bottle, the large chunky rings he always wears shining slightly from the glow of the overhead lamps. His index fingers tap around the rim of the bottle, and you can't take your eyes off them.
Irritated, you grab his hand that held the bottle, not to snatch the bottle, no, you fold your hands around his, and take a gulp from the bottle. He looks where you two's hand join on the bottle, and then, at you gulping down, his eyes follows your lips around the bottle, to your throat and finally landing on your breasts. His eyes gets fixated on them, making you look at your boobs, your nipples are hard and visible from the thin bralette and t-shirt you are wearing.
His expressions make you realize that you have a similar effect on him as he does on you. You remove your fingers from his, the lack of touch ending whatever trance he was in, making him finally look back at the tv without making eye contact with you. His face significantly more pink than it was a few moments before.
You lay your head on his shoulder again, but move your hand to his thigh, not doing anything big, just drawing circles, like was doing to your shoulder, well, its only fair if your return the favor.
He stiffens slightly, his eyes falling to your hands on his thigh, his lips parting. He looks adorable all flustered. He tries to relax and switch his attention to the movie, but you move your hands slightly upwards, caressing his thigh slowly.
"y/n" he says your name in a hushed tone, his deep voice settling somewhere in your chest.
"Hmm?"
"Don't do this."
"Do what Min?"
"Whatever this is." he says looking at your hand on his thigh.
"Huh, now I can't touch you?"
He puts his huge hand over yours, moving it downward, his touch on yours feel electric, your eyes are settled on his rings, the way they incase his long fingers make you wonder what these beautiful fingers can do. Maybe you really are drunk.
"You can touch me, just..." he trails off.
You wrap your fingers around his, rubbing your thumb on the back his palm, "Just what, you don't like it?"
"The problem is, y/n, that I do like it."
The words fall out of his mouth, and he quickly looks away, trying to snatch his hands from yours, but you don't let him.
"Yeah?" You ask with a smirk.
"Yeah"
"Well, I might like it too, who knows."
You get up slightly and put your hand on his chest, you can feel the hard muscles beneath his t-shirt, his heartbeat rapid from the alcohol, or you. Who knows.
You snake your hand to his jaw, holding it gently, his eyes go wide and his lips part, "What do you say to that Min? Would you like that?"
He slowly nods his head, his eyes glued on yours. You lean towards him, letting your lips touch his soft, plump ones.
You kiss him softly at first, savoring the flavor of alcohol on his lips that probably mirrors yours, he kisses you back just as softly, humming when he does so. You lean further into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head. He puts his arms behind your back and pulls you on top of him, his thick thighs warm beneath you.
You move closer to him so that your chest touches his. And he tries to pull you even closer, putting his hand in your hair, grabbing a fistful. He opens his mouth letting you enter your tongue into his, a trail of saliva sliding down both of your lips.
The kiss was driving you mad, you grabbed his hair, trying to pull him even closer, you can feel yourself getting wet, warmth spreading all over your body. You can also feel his bulge, right beneath you.
He moves his hands all over your body, stopping when reaching the hem of your t-shirt, he pulls his lips back a little, a string of saliva of connecting your lips to his, "uh, y/n, can I?" He asks looking down at his hands bunching up your t-shirt, you nod frantically and kiss him again. He pulls up your t-shirt and throws it somewhere in the room and you do the same with his. You both roam your hands all over each other's bodies, your hands stop at his nipples, rubbing them softly, making him groan, he throws his head back and cups your breasts with one of his hands, his other hand slithering to your back to unhook your bralette.
You lean towards him leaving open mouth kisses on his jawline and neck and move your hips slightly, eliciting a loud groan from him. His cock under his sweats is hard, you move on top of it, slowly rocking your hips. The fabric rubbing against your clit makes you wetter as you keep moving your hips. Mingi's hands finds your hips and he starts to guide them, setting a torturous pace. You drop your head in the crook of his neck, moaning loudly from the pleasure. His groans have also turned into moans, his eyes close and head fallen back. He moves you closer and kisses you, you keep rocking your hips, not stopping the pleasure.
"Nghh– ugh, y/n don't stop, ugh—" he whimpers.
You moan into the kiss. He starts to push up his hips, wanting to increase the sweet pleasure, you move your hands downwards, pushing them under his sweats, hooking your fingers to the hem of his boxers. You look at him and he nods. You pull your body a little up and push away his sweats along with the boxer away, revealing his dick, standing against his stomach, the tip red and slick with his precum. You run your fingers over the tip, the precum collecting on your fingers. He lets out a loud moan, "nggghh- y/n please- plea—" he begs in between his breaths, his jaw dropping when he sees you put the fingers coated in his precum in your mouth, letting out a hum when tasting the slightly salty fluid.
"Please what Min? Do you want something?" You breath out, slowly sucking on your fingers.
"Ughh, you know, pleas–" you cut him off by putting those same fingers on his lips. He opens his mouth and you push them inside. He starts to suck on them, his warm tongue sliding over them. He moves his hands to your hips and pulls down your shorts. He pushes his hand in your panties, towards your cunt, your wetness coating his fingers and those chunky rings. He finds your clit and starts to rubs slow circles on it, making you moan loudly, "aarg— Mi- so good ughh–"
You take out your fingers from his mouth and tangle them back in his hair, he grabs your hips and pushes you down, so that your pussy is directly above his cock.
"Baby, I want it, can I?" he loudly whines, "Yeah–" you hiss out.
He pushes you down on him, his cock stretching you out, the sudden pleasure making you both groan, you both lean forward and kiss each other, messily, you bite on his lips slightly, before moving your hips. His hands guide your hips to set a pace so fast you think you might really lose your mind.
The pleasure grows from your lower body, enveloping you whole. His mouth finds your hard nipple, his hand on the other. You whimper as he leaves little bites on it, those whimpers develop into a loud moan when he increases the pace of his hips below you, hitting that sweet spot in you. His other hand grip your hip so hard you think it might leave a mark, not that you mind. You grab his hair and yank his head up to press your lips on his neck, sucking and biting, wanting to leave a mark of your own on his smooth skin. He removes his hand from your breast and hips letting it roam freely all over back, finally settling in your hair and neck.
"Baby– ughh it- good- ah-" he moans, his voice echoing like a sweet melody in your ears. He snakes his hand down and finds your clit, his index finger rubbing it in the same rhythm as your hips, you whine against his neck, feeling so close to your orgasm, "Min- ugh- im clo–"
"Yeah?" He breaths out, increases the pace of his fingers and pushing them a little harder on your clit, moving you so close to your orgasm. He pulls your head up and gives you a messy open mouth kiss, finally pushing you to your climax. Your body writhes on top of his, toes curling and muscles twitching, he holds onto you with one hand while his other keeps the pleasure going on your clit.
You clench around him and he whimpers, trying to pull out, "y/n, ugh- ba– stop, gonna ah- gonna cum."
"Min baby– please don't huh– move- giv– give it to me, please!"
"Baby, don't say that, aa- are you sure?"
"Min, plea- please do it." You whine between gasps as you slowly come down from your high, Mingi lets out a loud whine as his hips stutter beneath you, you feel him fill you up. The warmth climbing up your body making you sigh. He keeps on moving until his climax finishes. Exhaling a loud breath when he finally stops, slowly pulling out, leaving a cold and empty feeling inside you. He grimaces as the cold air touches him and puts his forehead against yours.
"Well."
"Well."
You both say at the same.
You look at each other for a second and burst out in giggles, laughing at yourselves.
You both wrap your hands around each other in a tight hug, "well it was a fun movie night" you say.
"Yeah it was." he replies between giggles, and picks you while standing up, "now let's get cleaned up, hmm?"
He carries you towards the washroom, and you wonder if he's into shower sex, maybe you'll fuck around and find out, you always do.
a/n: this is the first time I wrote complete like all the way smut, and let me tell you one thing, writing moans and whimpers is the most awkward thing I've done.
Mingi is built to take control, but he loves the moments where he is allowed to give it all away.
___________________________________________
Mingi was built like a brick wall.
You feel it the second you shove him backward onto the bed. Over six foot of solid muscle hits the mattress and stays there. Broad chest rising and falling, long legs sprawled open, arms still glistening with sweat, thick thighs already parting for you without being asked. Eyes big and soft.
It’s not that he can’t take control. He’s built for it. He is big enough to pin you down without even trying, strong enough to hold you exactly where he wants. On stage he looks untouchable and fierce. And even off stage he could easily flip you, hold you open, take from you whatever he wants. But that’s not what gets him. What gets him is the opposite.
He likes the moment your hands land on him and his whole body softens. The second you pin him down, tell him to stay -something in him just… unlocks. All that strength goes quiet. His arms relax under your grip. He stops thinking about what he could do and just waits for you to tell him what you need from him.
Being told what to do feels like relief. Being made pliant under your touch feels like purpose. Becoming something that exists only for your pleasure feels like the hottest thing he will ever be allowed to become.
He loves being used like a toy, watching you fuck yourself on his big cock. The sight of his thick shaft disappearing into you inch by inch, and then sliding back out glistening with your slick, only to sink in again.
The slow, deliberate rhythm of it, you splitting yourself open on him. Your body rising and falling, the bounce of your tits, the arch of your back as you take him deeper…It does something raw to him. Watching you use him like that, watching you claim every inch, riding him for your own pleasure while he stays still and hard and completely at your mercy, makes his cock throb helplessly inside you.
Every squeeze, every slick drag of your walls along his length -the way your body moves over him - turns him into pure, aching need. He loves the helplessness of it, being nothing more than the cock you ride, the toy you fuck yourself on while he can only watch.
You climb over him slowly, knees settling on either side of his waist. Mingi looks up at you, soft and still… waiting. You peel your top off slowly. The fabric lifts, and your tits spill free. Warm and lush, the skin smooth and slightly flushed, nipples already tightening under his stare. The soft undersides curve invitingly, the way they sit full and round against your chest making them look even more perfect for his hands, his mouth, anything he isn’t allowed to take unless you give it.
You shove your pants and underwear down next, rising just enough to drag them off and kick them aside. Now completely bare, the heat of your cunt rests against the hard line of his cock still trapped in his clothes.
Then you reach for the hem of his tanktop. He lifts his arms to help without being asked, and you pull it up and over his head. The feeling of his smooth,bare chest under you is warm, solid and still a little damp. You drag the fabric the rest of the way off and toss it aside.
Then you shove his sweatpants and underwear down his hips. He lifts for you, then settles again when you pull them all the way off and drop them to the floor. He is completely naked under you now, his beautiful thick cock already hard and shiny against his stomach from the anticipation of being used.
You look down at him.
Mingi’s face is soft, open, completely willing. Pupils blown wide. He has that gentle, almost shy expression that doesn’t match the size of him at all. He is already so eager it shows in the way his lips part, the way he waits for whatever you decide to do next.
You lean in close, voice soft and sweet.
“Are you going to be a good boy and let me ride that pretty face?”
His answer is immediate, soft and breathless.
“Yes… god yes.”
You climb higher, knees settling on either side of his head, and lower yourself so your cunt rests right against his mouth. The first contact draws a gasp from both of you. You feel the warm press of his lips, the way his breath ghosts over your wetness, and then you sink down fully.
Mingi opens for you like he’s been waiting his whole life for this. You carefully roll your hips in deep, sensual arcs so your clit drags over his tongue with every movement. The feeling is sensational and you let out a broken moan. The wet heat of his mouth…soft, eager, completely devoted. You feel the way he licks into you, messy and hungry, tongue pushing deeper every time you grind down.
The room is filled with filthy, wet sounds. Your thighs squeezing around his head. Every slow circle of your hips is smearing more of your slick across his mouth and chin until his face is shiny with you. It feels so good it makes your stomach tightens fast. The control of it, the way he stays still under you while you use his mouth exactly how you want.
You can feel how much it does to him too - the quiet, desperate moans, vibrating against your clit. His thick cock twitches and leaks against his stomach untouched and his fingers are on your thighs like he’s desperate to hold on.
You keep moving, riding his face like it belongs to you…pressing down harder occasionally, taking his air for just a few seconds, feeling him moan and lick even more desperately underneath you. Sometimes you lift just enough that he can gasp, only to sink right back down and fill his mouth again.
“That’s it baby,” your voice sweet, and low. “Just like that. You're doing so good letting me fuck your pretty face like this.”
He groans but stays soft for you, tongue working in long, devoted strokes, letting you take every bit of pleasure you want from him.
The wet heat, the slide of his tongue, the way he keeps making those sounds against your clit - the build becomes almost unbearable. You can feel yourself dripping onto his tongue, getting wetter with every careful grind. Your thighs start to tremble. The pleasure tightens low in your stomach, sharp and inevitable, until you can’t hold it back anymore.
You press down harder, grinding your clit against his tongue in short, desperate rolls, and the orgasm crashes through you.
A broken, shaky cry spills out of you as you come - hard. Your pussy clenches and you squirt, hot and sudden, in strong pulses right over his tongue and lips and chin. The wet rush soaks his face completely.
Mingi moans loudly into it, the sound muffled and desperate, tongue still working as you keep shuddering over him, coating him in everything you have. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you steady while you ride it out, trembling and gasping, spilling more with every wave that rolls through you.
When the last pulse finally fades, you stay there for a second, breathing hard, looking down at him. His face is shiny and completely wrecked - mouth wet, chin dripping, as he looks up at you completely blissed out.
You stay seated over his mouth a moment longer, trembling. Mingi's face is a mess -shiny, flushed, eyes glassy and dark with want. When you finally lift off him, a thin string of slick connects your cunt to his lower lip before it snaps. He makes a soft, broken sound at the loss.
You slide down his body slowly, letting your wetness drag along his chest, his stomach, the trail of it marking him as you go. His cock jumps when your thigh brushes it, thick and flushed. He is breathing hard, chest rising and falling underneath you, but he doesn’t move except to part his legs wider the second you settle between them.
“Stay,” you command, and he does.
You reach for the soft fabric ties you left folded on the nightstand earlier. His eyes follow your every move. When the first length of fabric loops around his right wrist, his breath catches. You tie it firmly to the headboard, then the left…stretching his arms above his head until the full width of his chest is pulled taut before you. He pulls on the restraints once, a flex of muscle in his shoulders, and then he goes still again, accepting his fate.
“Such a good boy,” you whisper in his ear and something in him immediately relaxes.
The softness in his gaze returns, as he loves being praised -the words sinking into him until all the strength in his body goes still.
Once he is completely relaxed under you again, you begin. Starting at his mouth. Your fingers trace the wet shine still coating his lips and chin. Then you lean down and lick it away slowly, tasting yourself on him. He opens for the kiss immediately, tongue tentative and sweet, letting you lead. When you bite his lower lip -just hard enough to make it sting -he moans into it, the sound low and helpless.
Then you begin to mark him.
You drag your mouth down the column of his throat, sucking deep, deliberate bruises into his skin. His Adam's apple jumps under your tongue. You bite it softly and feel the way his whole body tenses, and then melts again when you soothe the mark with your tongue.
Now across his collarbones. The hard line of his chest. You close your teeth around one hardened nipple and pull until his back arches from the bed, a broken moan escaping him.
Your hands follow everywhere your mouth goes. Palms sliding over the heavy muscle of his arms, the curves of his shoulders, the subtle ridge of his abs that flex under your touch. You dig your nails in lightly, dragging red lines down his sides, watching the way his skin turns pink. He is trembling now -fine shivers that run through him every time your fingers skim closer to his cock without touching it.
His legs shift restlessly against the sheets, thighs spreading wider, heels pressing into the mattress as if the need to move is becoming almost unbearable. You glance up at him, making sure he is still with you, soft and open for what is coming next.
Moving further to his thighs, you take your time there. They are thick and strong, with soft skin higher up on the inside that you bite hard enough to make him gasp, before sucking another mark right on the outside where the muscle meets his hip.
His cock is leaking steadily onto his stomach, the head shiny and flushed almost purple, but you still ignore it. “Look at you,” you say softly, voice laced with satisfaction as you sit back on your heels between his spread legs. “All this strength, and yet…you are just letting me take whatever I want from you.”
Mingi’s eyes are wet at the corners. His voice comes out rough, almost shy.
“Yes. I am yours… please. I—I need—”
You place your finger on his lips and soothe him: “Sshh, baby… I know. I know. I’ll give you what you need, my love. You’re doing so good for me.”
You climb over him again, knees bracketing his hips, and finally wrap your hand around the thick base of his cock. He jerks hard against the ties, a desperate sound erupting out of him. You stroke once, twice, slow and tight, watching the way his body responds to you.
Then you position yourself, the head of him notched against your slick entrance, and sink down in one long, deliberate glide.
The stretch is deep, perfect. He fills you completely, the heavy heat of him pressing everywhere at once. Mingi’s head tips back against the pillow, mouth open on a silent cry, arms pulling uselessly at the restraints. His legs come up instinctively, thick thighs bracketing your hips, but he doesn’t try to take over.
He just holds you there, trembling, while you stay seated fully for a moment, letting both of you feel it -the way your walls flutter around him, the helpless throb of his cock inside you.
Then you begin to move.
You ride him the way you rode his face: slow, controlled, using his body for what you want. Rising until only the thick head of his cock is inside you, then sinking down again, taking every inch while his thighs flex hard around you and his hips try to lift to meet you. The wrist ties stop him from grabbing you, flipping you….from doing everything his instincts are telling him to do. He can only take what you give.
The wet sound of your bodies together fills the room again. Your hands brace on his marked chest, nails digging into the bruises you left, and every time you grind down particularly hard he makes those soft, pliant noises that go straight through you.
“That’s it,” you breathe, voice still sweet even as you pick up the pace, bouncing harder, using the full length of him. “You're so deep… feel so good like this baby.”
Mingi’s cock is throbbing inside you now, desperate, the head dragging alongside your walls. His wrists strain, fingers flexing uselessly above his head, while his free legs tighten around your waist, heels digging into the backs of your thighs as if he can’t help the need to pull you closer.
Every muscle in his body is pulled tight with the urge to thrust up hard, to take, to claim but the simple hold of the ties keeps him exactly where you want him. All he can do is lie there and feel you take him apart, one slow, selfish stroke at a time, and the helplessness of it is written all over his face. He is exactly where he wants to be.
You keep riding him hard, chasing the heat that is building in your stomach. His cock fills you perfectly and every downward grind presses it right against the spot that makes your thighs shake.
“Fuck… baby,” you breathe, voice breaking. “You’re gonna make me come again…”
Mingi’s eyes are glassy, mouth open, soft broken sounds spilling out of him with every thrust you take. He feels amazing like this, completely at your mercy.
The orgasm hits you hard the second time. Your walls clamp down around him in strong, pulsing waves as a shaky cry leaves your throat. You grind through it, soaking his cock, milking him with every clench while he moans helplessly underneath you, wrists straining against the ties.
You’re still trembling when you slow down, keeping him buried deep inside you. You lean over him, voice soft and sweet, your voice almost a whisper.
You’ve been such a good boy for me… so obedient and open. Do you want to come, my love? Let me hear you say it.”
Mingi’s breath hitches. His voice is wrecked, barely more than a whimper.
“Please… yes. Please, I need to -”
You smile, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. “Ok baby, then come for me. Let go.
You have earned it.”
That’s all it takes.
Mingi’s whole body locks up. A broken, desperate cry rips out of him as he finally spills, thick and hot, pulsing deep inside you in long, hard spurts. His hips jerk against the bed, cock throbbing through every wave while his wrists pull hard at the ties. The look on his face is pure wrecked relief - eyes wet, lips parted, completely lost in the feeling of you.
You stay seated on him until the last tremor fades, gently stroking his chest while he comes down, soft and shaking.
Then you carefully untie his wrists, massaging the faint marks with your thumbs. You pull him against your chest, and the moment he’s close he buries his face in your neck and holds on, big body trembling as he presses himself into you.
You wrap your arms around him and just hold him there, stroking the back of his hair while he breathes you in, quiet and still.
When he finally loosens his grip, you help him up and lead him into the shower.
The water is warm. You wash him carefully, tender hands moving over every mark you left on his skin, every place you used him. He leans into every touch, quiet and satisfied, forehead resting against your shoulder while you clean him, rinse him, and press the softest kisses to the wet skin of his neck.
Later, back in bed, he curls around you, still a little dazed, one heavy arm draped loosely over your waist. His voice is quiet, almost shy against your skin.
“Thank you… for taking care of me.”
You run your fingers through his damp hair and press a quiet kiss to his forehead.
“I will always take care of you, baby” you murmur. “Go to sleep now…I’ve got you.”
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; Y/n wakes her boyfriend up on his birthday with a blow job to start his day right.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; Boyfriend!Mingi x Fem!Reader.
☆ — 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 490. ☆ — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Smut. ☆ — 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Oral (m!rec), somnophilia, teasing, pet names, head holding, dirty talk, gagging, deep throating, throat fucking, praise, and cum eating.
♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @eunseoksgirl @threepointstogrifendor @mingkisdoll @groovyravenagain @matznana @smuttaburger @barbtiny @yeosangholic1 @maliabobea15 @pyuddings @mourninglizzy @joonginism @m4rs-m00ni3 @sangieholic @bren00na send a ask to be added or removed!
A/N — HAPPY MINGI DAY :D wrote this while completely exhausted. So my apologies if it’s terrible.
You woke up before Mingi for once, the sunlight barely peaking in through the curtains.
You smiled softly to yourself, turning over carefully to face your sleeping boyfriend. Watching his chest rise and fall with every soft breath as an idea struck your head.
Today was Mingi’s birthday, and as the sweet girlfriend you were. You wanted him to start the day off right. You ever so gently moved yourself down the bed, making sure you were completely covered by the duvet as you settled between Mingi’s thighs.
You raised an eyebrow from seeing he was already hard, probably from the dreams he was having. You didn’t mind, it was just one less step for you.
Your fingers were feather light as you pulled his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free, holding your breath slightly as Mingi adjusted his sleeping position by spreading his legs wider. Which was an everyday occurrence because he’s genuinely just a bed hog.
After waiting a moment you finally lowered your head to be level with dick. You pressed soft kisses along his shaft like you always do, feeling it twitch slightly despite being heavily asleep.
Kissing your way back up to his tip, you decided to press your tongue flat against his meatus, collecting the slight dribble of precum that leaked out before swirling your tongue around his cockhead.
The sensation of your tongue made Mingi stir slightly, grinding his hips up ever so slightly to try to push himself deeper into your mouth. But you didn’t let him, your hands remained gentle on his hips to keep him from moving.
The gentle restriction combined with your tongue kitten licking his tip made mingi’s eyes flutter open “Please, babygirl. Don’t do this to me…” His voice was heavy with sleep.
One of Mingi’s hands moved to under the blanket to hold your head as you finally stopped teasing him. Your head bobbing up and down on his cock while wet sucking sounds echoed in the quiet bedroom.
“That’s right, be a pretty girl for me. You can go deeper than that…” Mingi grunted out, trying to keep himself from pushing your head to make you deep throat him.
You obeyed, deciding to give your birthday boy what he wants. Gagging slightly as he completely swallow his member down your throat. Mingi’s hands held your head there out of instinct, his hips grinding against your face due to his needs building up inside him.
“Fuck…such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this so early in the morning…” Mingi half growled out as his thrusts started to get more rough and frenzied, a clear sign he was about to cum.
He thrusted his hips up one last time, making you gag again from the angle as he came. Holding your head completely still until he was done, watching you swallow his cum made him crave more than just a blowjob.
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; Y/n wakes her boyfriend up on his birthday with a blow job to start his day right.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; Boyfriend!Mingi x Fem!Reader.
☆ — 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 490. ☆ — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Smut. ☆ — 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Oral (m!rec), somnophilia, teasing, pet names, head holding, dirty talk, gagging, deep throating, throat fucking, praise, and cum eating.
♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @eunseoksgirl @threepointstogrifendor @mingkisdoll @groovyravenagain @matznana @smuttaburger @barbtiny @yeosangholic1 @maliabobea15 @pyuddings @mourninglizzy @joonginism @m4rs-m00ni3 @sangieholic @bren00na send a ask to be added or removed!
A/N — HAPPY MINGI DAY :D wrote this while completely exhausted. So my apologies if it’s terrible.
You woke up before Mingi for once, the sunlight barely peaking in through the curtains.
You smiled softly to yourself, turning over carefully to face your sleeping boyfriend. Watching his chest rise and fall with every soft breath as an idea struck your head.
Today was Mingi’s birthday, and as the sweet girlfriend you were. You wanted him to start the day off right. You ever so gently moved yourself down the bed, making sure you were completely covered by the duvet as you settled between Mingi’s thighs.
You raised an eyebrow from seeing he was already hard, probably from the dreams he was having. You didn’t mind, it was just one less step for you.
Your fingers were feather light as you pulled his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free, holding your breath slightly as Mingi adjusted his sleeping position by spreading his legs wider. Which was an everyday occurrence because he’s genuinely just a bed hog.
After waiting a moment you finally lowered your head to be level with dick. You pressed soft kisses along his shaft like you always do, feeling it twitch slightly despite being heavily asleep.
Kissing your way back up to his tip, you decided to press your tongue flat against his meatus, collecting the slight dribble of precum that leaked out before swirling your tongue around his cockhead.
The sensation of your tongue made Mingi stir slightly, grinding his hips up ever so slightly to try to push himself deeper into your mouth. But you didn’t let him, your hands remained gentle on his hips to keep him from moving.
The gentle restriction combined with your tongue kitten licking his tip made mingi’s eyes flutter open “Please, babygirl. Don’t do this to me…” His voice was heavy with sleep.
One of Mingi’s hands moved to under the blanket to hold your head as you finally stopped teasing him. Your head bobbing up and down on his cock while wet sucking sounds echoed in the quiet bedroom.
“That’s right, be a pretty girl for me. You can go deeper than that…” Mingi grunted out, trying to keep himself from pushing your head to make you deep throat him.
You obeyed, deciding to give your birthday boy what he wants. Gagging slightly as he completely swallow his member down your throat. Mingi’s hands held your head there out of instinct, his hips grinding against your face due to his needs building up inside him.
“Fuck…such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this so early in the morning…” Mingi half growled out as his thrusts started to get more rough and frenzied, a clear sign he was about to cum.
He thrusted his hips up one last time, making you gag again from the angle as he came. Holding your head completely still until he was done, watching you swallow his cum made him crave more than just a blowjob.
