Discover Top Posts Tagged with #san fic

pairing﹢choi san x fem!reader genre﹢smut. non-idol!au, reader is a pornstar, san has a porn addiction. there will be jungkook x reader moments. strangers to lovers, mutual pining (he fell first and harder), hurt/comfort, usage of toys, masturbation, virgin!san + first time with experienced!reader, slight submissive-leaning soft dom!san, praise kink, body worship, cunnilingus, overstimulation, cowgirl/riding, missionary (heavy focus on eye contact), multiple orgasms, marking, creampie, usage of petnames (angel, princess, doll, baby), aftercare. synopsis﹢do you think pornstars have feelings… or only the ability to fake pleasure? she sells fantasies to millions, he’s addicted to the screen she lives on, and the man beside her on set knows her better than anyone. but when san meets the woman behind the camera, he realizes the one thing she’s never faked is how badly she wants to be loved. word count﹢19.2k

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at the mere mention of your name, you can cause havoc among young couples.

when girls film those trendy videos where they say the first name of a famous person and their boyfriend has to respond with the last name, most guys answer a little too quickly, and they try to laugh it off right after, already scrambling to downplay it before their girlfriends start asking questions, making them dig their own graves every time.

you’re a celebrity among the younger crowd — a famous pornstar, to be exact. a beautiful twenty-three-year-old woman with a body sculpted to sinful perfection and a face so soft it could pass for angelic if you covered your eyes with a blindfold and ignored what you do for a living. the comments about you come in all flavors: that you’re a whore, another slut on the streets, your parents must be ashamed of the “career” their daughter chose, and that you’re good for nothing except taking men into your mouth or spreading your legs on camera.

you’ve heard and know it all. sometimes the hate piles up more than usual, but at the end of the day, who’s counting the money? certainly not the ones typing paragraphs about morality from behind phone screens, while their husbands hide your videos behind a thousand folders in their computers.

and it’s not just the hate you receive, because you have loyal fans. not including the perverted old men who flood your inbox with desperate fantasies, and not the kids who are far too young to know your name but somehow still do. no, the ones you appreciate are the men your age, maybe a little older… one of those fans was SAN.

a mere nobody, a man who has memorized your body over the pixels in hd quality. he knows the exact way your mouth curves before you laugh, how your fingers drag down skin like you’re begging your co-star to slow down, even though he knows, from interviews and behind-the-scenes clips, that you prefer it rough. he also knows the pitch of your voice when you whisper something filthy into the camera, the slight tremble right before a whine replaces a moan.

he watches you in the dark, phone brightness turned down, volume low enough that the only real sound in the room is his own uneven breathing. his muffled noises are swallowed by his pillow until the screen times out, and the sticky evidence of his excitement is embarrassingly obvious, covering both his hand and phone.

every time, he swears it’s the last video and the last time he loses control so easily. he carries a lot of shame about his obsession. it’s like a stain invisible to everyone else. no one would ever suspect that the sweet, polite, and caring boy, who holds doors open for women and remembers every one of his friends’ birthdays, has a porn addiction… nothing about him gives it away.

a virgin who knows far too much in theory and absolutely nothing in practice.

he’s only four years older than you, not a big gap at all. you entered the industry two years ago and climbed fast, your name spreading across platforms like wildfire. he remembers the first video he saw of you, thinking you looked different from the others. something about you fooling the public that you are fragile, but you like to be in control.

past the fantasy of dating, like every other man who convinces himself with endless delusions that maybe he has a chance with you. how many times has he imagined what it would be like to date someone like you? so charming, and devastatingly beautiful, fully aware of the effect you have on people, he knows he’d be wrapped around your finger without resistance.

the times when he got home from work or the gym, the first thing he did to unwind was play one of your videos. it didn’t matter if it was old content or something uploaded an hour ago; he just wanted to see and hear you. sometimes he’d end up stalking your instagram instead, scrolling through every post and highlight, checking whatever other socials you had linked.

some of his favorite videos were the ones where you worked with your very famous co-star — jeon jeongguk, more known professionally as jungkook. the two of you moved in perfect sync, as if there was no script at all, everything was pure and raw instinct. then there were the moments when kim mingyu joined in for a threesome.

the three of you filmed together so often that people started calling you the golden trio. the chemistry was immaculate, hot in a way that looked effortless. it made san think you had a certain type: men who took care of their bodies and appearance, men who were confident and charming, having no problem with women being slightly dominant. he’d once read somewhere that you didn’t film with just anyone. he didn’t even know if it was possible to have that kind of creative control in your industry, but the thought stuck with him.

hidden in a box under his bed, buried beneath random clutter just in case, was a pocket pussy. he wasn’t taking any risks, definitely didn’t want teasing from his friends, especially not from wooyoung. so that was his dirty little secret, something he reached for when his own hand stopped being enough.

and lately, nothing was enough. he was sexually frustrated, but he didn’t have the heart to download a dating app or flirt with some random girl when mingi invited him to a party, because he didn’t want just anyone, he wanted you. no matter how impossible it was, even if it made him feel pathetic, like a loser blinded by his own addiction.

during the day, he was a bartender making coffees, teas, sugary drinks and whatnot, smiling at customers like he didn’t have a single improper thought in his head. at night, he was just another pervert who had never felt the touch of a woman. it wasn’t that he was disgusting; he wasn’t one of those men. but when he got obsessed with something, it was nearly impossible for him to let go. it reminded him of yunho and his cigarette addiction, and how he’d tried quitting so many times. once, he’d even managed five months, which was a record, then one party ruined it all, and he was back to smoking like he’d never stopped.

san understood that kind of weakness more than he wanted to admit, and now he can’t stop staring at a girl who looks a lot like you.

she’s wearing sunglasses, an oversized hoodie and baggy clothes, dressed like it’s the middle of a hip-hop dance lesson, every piece of clothing clearly designer. it’s something about the structure of her face, her hair as well. it was styled differently, yes, but still unmistakably similar.

“medium chocolate ice cream shake with extra whipped cream, large iced americano and three cookies, please.” that voice is rather familiar, sweet and honeyed, slightly raspy, like someone who’s spent all night screaming… he's sure he has heard it somewhere before.

“for here or to go?” he asks, offering a soft smile as he types the order into the computer behind the bar. he looks at her, waiting for an answer.

“to go,” she lowers her head slightly to rummage through her bag, and her sunglasses slightly slip down her nose for him to see. “i’ll pay with a card.”

no. there’s no fucking way. it has to be a coincidence, right? people look alike all the time, complete strangers with similar features, a doppelganger perhaps. but he knows your eyes and the exact color, down to the shape, and the subtle crease when you smile.

his gaze drops to her hands: this is the same damn nail set that you have, and how does he know? from your instagram story three days ago. the red catseye effect that shimmered under the light, he remembers staring at that photo longer than he should have.

he doesn’t even realize she’s speaking to him, asking if she can tap the card for the payment. he blinks, shakes his head quickly, heat rushing to his face.

“uh, yeah, yeah– i’m sorry. it’s ready,” he gestures to the payment terminal, and a few seconds later, the transaction is approved. “whose name should it be under?”

“yone.”

oh, this can't be just a coincidence anymore. yone, huh? like your favorite character from league of legends, the game he also plays because of you. there are figurines in the background of your streams, one of them a funko pop sitting right in front of your pc, and he remembers because he is observant. his eyes widen for half a second before he forces himself back into composure.

there’s no way this isn’t you… it has to be, there’s no other logical explanation that makes sense.

“okay, it’ll be ready in a few minutes. you can sit down while you wait,” he says, handing over the receipt with the order number. she smiles softly as she takes it, stepping aside so the next customer can order. but from the corner of his eye, he notices she doesn’t sit, just lingers by the pastry case, leaning forward slightly to read the labels.

“excuse me, can i have one– actually, two pieces of that chocolate cake?”

that’s when she lifts her sunglasses, and… damn it, it’s really you.

san would swear on everything he owns. he stares again, shock flickering across his face before he remembers he’s at work, and cannot lose his mind right now or act insane, no matter how badly he wants to.

“yes, of course. to go as well?” he asks, already opening the case and preparing two small boxes. you nod once, slipping your glasses back on like nothing happened. your order is ready, he tells you the total for the cake, but instead of waiting for change, you hand him cash, more than necessary.

“keep the change~ have a nice day.”

and just like that, you’re gone. no time for him to say goodbye, process, or hand back what is, frankly, an absurd amount of money for two slices of cake. the door shuts behind you, and now he has to stand there behind the cashier, pretending he didn’t just serve his dream girl at his workplace. your name is trending on every site he pretends he doesn’t know, and you were just standing in front of him, not framed in perfect lighting or following any scripts.

he doesn’t know what’s worse — that you look even better in person, or that he knows exactly how you sound when you moan.

you slip back into the van with the bag in hand, kicking the door shut behind you. the space is cool and quiet, tinted windows shielding you from curious eyes. you peel off your hoodie, then remove the sunglasses, before a voice hums from the other seat.

“took you long enough, bunny. is it that packed at this time of the day?”

“no, gukkie.” you grin, digging through the bag, you hand him his iced americano and a slice of cake. “the cashier couldn’t stop staring, i think he recognized me… so i lifted my sunglasses a little to tease him.”

you continue, leaning back, a little intrigued maybe, “but he was actually so fucking fine, like that uniform shirt was tight on him, god, the biceps, i swear i want him to–”

jungkook shoves a cookie into your mouth before you can finish. “even on your period, you’re freaky,” he mutters, flashing that wide bunny grin. you roll your eyes, biting into the chocolate chip dough, “what? let a girl simp. and he was sweet, too, didn’t panic or anything, just… stared.”

the engine starts again, the van pulling into traffic, jungkook’s private drive, of course, comfortable enough to nap in between schedules. this week is quiet for you, because you have no shoots or productions, and even if there were, he’d probably cancel them anyway. your co-star always gets a little protective when you’re not feeling your best or during that time of the month. he is not your boyfriend, not exactly; it’s platonic, maybe more of a physical attraction than a romantic one.

“should’ve gotten his number,” you sigh, glancing out the window. “he was really pretty.”

“you’ve got half the industry lined up already,” jungkook replies, taking a sip of his drink and stretching his legs out. “wonwoo, taehyung, baekhyun, yeonjun… you’re not exactly short on options.”

“i know,” you tap your fingers against your thigh, not even glancing at your friend, observing the slowly moving cars instead, “but… i don’t know, something about cashier guy felt different.”

jungkook snorts softly, grabbing a sweet treat from the bag, “different how?”

you smile to yourself, thinking about wide eyes and trembling restraint behind his polite smile. how his longer black hair fell into his chocolate brown eyes, the dimples that appeared when he flashed a smile, and his insane body proportions.

“like he’s the type who pretends he’s innocent,” you murmur, taking yet another bite, thinking about san, the name you read on the badge clipped to his apron, “but really isn’t.”

and somewhere in the café, a bartender is still trying to convince himself he was in fact not dreaming about this. he needed a five-minute break, even though he didn't smoke, he thought he needed a cigarette. his heart was beating like crazy, it was probably going to jump out at any moment and make him go into cardiac arrest… he was hoping to maybe see you again.

a week later, he heard the same voice with the same order, even though he wasn't serving at the cash register. back turned while finishing a drink, the sound of you makes him glance over his shoulder. there you were with a new outfit, hair done again, your nails the same, and the sunglasses were still perched on your nose. this time, you were wearing tights, a short skirt, some designer shoes. you were also wearing some kind of t-shirt, it was a man's and certainly not yours. he felt a little stupid, but there was no reason to be jealous; since you are constantly surrounded by men after all.

you’re waiting by the pastries again. he wipes his hands, tosses a towel over his shoulder, and slips out from behind the display case, giving himself a minute or two from making yet another matcha latte, watching you on your phone, texting someone maybe, until he cleared his throat, "anything else for you?"

“oh, yeah. can i have a piece of the oreo cake and…” you glanced around quickly, making sure no one was paying attention, before lowering your voice to a whisper, “…your number?”

instead of waiting for an answer, you press a small folded note into his hand over the counter, and he unfolds it once you step back.

(name) xxx-xxxx-xxx i know you know who i am, but i think you’re really cute <3 would you like to go on a date with me? and also something dropping at 21:00, make sure to check it out, xoxo

he raised an eyebrow as he read it, then looked back at you, lifting your sunglasses to wink at him.

“you can think about it.”

oh, he would think about it, he absolutely would. the moment you said goodbye and blew him a kiss, he was counting down the seconds until he could clock out and go home.

it was a hell of a shift. maybe because he was waiting for it to end, which only made time drag slower, thinking about you didn’t help either. the way you’d casually handed him your number. surely it wasn’t some kind of scam, no one pretending to be you, right?

back home, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. the girl he practically considered a goddess had walked into the café where he worked. out of all the cafés in the entire seoul, you chose this one. sure, it was part of a well-developed chain, he never expected a pornstar to buy sweet treats somewhere so… normal. then again, you were human, sometimes cheaper was better. and, not to brag, but their lattes and cakes were easily top ten.

watching the clock obsessively until it struck 21:00. true to your word, a twenty-minute video dropped, featuring kim taehyung as your hot professor.

he clicked on it immediately, greeted with your angelic beauty in that skimpy academic outfit. sinful under the disguise of innocence, and when the scene of your professor bending you over his desk, that was when san finally gave in and reached for the pocket pussy in the box under his bed. goodness, you were so fucking hot.

the way your ass and tits bounced with every thrust of taehyung’s cock abusing your tight cunt, and you sounded so breathy, needy, very much angelic. was this what heaven sounded like?

matching his pace to the video, hips snapping forward, you were close, he was close, and when you came on screen, body trembling beneath your professor, san followed right after — groaning, spilling into the toy, listening to your cries echo from his laptop speakers.

“f-fuck…” his breathing came out ragged, and his clean hand draped over his face before sliding back through his hair, pushing it away from his damp forehead. it was hot, feeding his delusions, but it wasn’t enough to feed the actual hunger he had for you, not for someone who wanted the real thing.

after he calmed down, he grabbed a towel to clean himself up and pulled his pants back up, mind racing, switching on and off. should he text you? he wasn’t a coward, but you weren’t messing with him, were you? you had sounded genuinely interested, but it felt like a one-in-a-million chance that someone like you would even glance at someone like him.

grabbing his phone, no time to waste, and to miss such an opportunity? he would be a damn fool, because there might not be a second time.

hi, i’m san. from the café.

you received it instantly, been waiting all day for him, even mid-fuck with jungkook when your phone lit up next to your head as you grabbed it. your eyes widened, excitement replacing pleasure in an instant. “oh my god, gukk!”

he smirked down at you, thinking you were praising him, until you gasped, “cashier guy texted me, oh fuck right there–” that made him slow down a little, unhappy that something like that interrupts him, and stops you from paying attention to him.

“check it later,” he muttered, voice low, as he thrust into you to the point of the skin slapping being louder than your moans, “not when i’m inside you.”

unfortunately, the session with jungkook ends faster than usual. he can feel you’re no longer fully with him, your excitement redirected elsewhere. even though he finishes inside you, with his body still hovering over yours, you barely react. you’re already slipping out from under him, rolling onto your stomach with a little dreamy sigh.

mind you, he’s still caging you in with his strong arms from above, one inked in a full tattoo sleeve, and just like that, you’re ignoring him? he would do anything to make you feel good, and you’re lying there, flushed and glowing, suddenly giddy over some random man.

his cum slowly leaks out of you, dripping onto the towel you’d thrown beneath earlier. he shifts slightly, peeking over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of your screen. you and the cashier guy are already texting.

jealousy doesn’t even begin to cover it — he hates competition, hates being second, but can he really act possessive over someone who isn’t his? friends with benefits, colleagues, no strings attached; however, it’s too late to pretend he doesn’t care.

he leans down, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder, then another, trailing down to your spine. you let out a soft whimper, thighs squeezing together at the lingering sensitivity, the sticky warmth between them making you shift.

“wanna shower with me?” he murmurs, hands sliding to your waist, fingers squeezing gently while his thumbs brush over the soft curve of your ass.

“no, you go first… i don’t exactly trust you after the last time i joined you,” you laugh at the memory. the shower sex had been insane, amazing enough to spark ideas for future content, but you’d barely been able to walk afterward, your entire body aching. “don’t use up all the hot water, though.”

and just like that, you’re back on your phone, naked in his bed, texting someone else.

jungkook watches you for a moment longer before pushing himself off the mattress. irritated and disappointed, but this is what he signed up for the second he got involved with you.

you, meanwhile, are deep in conversation with san. the messages are playful and teasing, curious questions here and there, subtle flirting that grows bolder with every reply. at one point, you send him a photo. nothing too explicit, showing some skin, the angle leaves very little to the imagination.

san is absolutely losing his goddamn mind. he can’t even sit still, pacing around his apartment, phone clutched in his hand, a wide smile stretching across his face. he looks insane, giggling under his breath, rereading your messages like a lovestruck teenager. what started as texting at ten turned into eleven, then midnight, then two in the morning. you even took your phone into the bathroom, telling him it was the fastest shower you’d ever taken.

every notification feels like a spark under his skin, an arrow cupid aimed at his heart. he imagines you smiling at your screen the way he is now. the idea that you’re choosing to spend your night talking to him makes him feel special, as he debates for a full five minutes before finally typing it out.

are you free this saturday? it’s my day off. i’d love to take you out.

it’s soon, too soon, maybe, but it feels right, stupidly and terrifyingly right. he’s so pumped he might cry from happiness. adrenaline hums through his veins, his fingers twitching as he waits for the little typing bubble to appear.

meanwhile, jungkook has you tucked into him, your back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“bunny, go to sleep already… we have filming tomorrow,” he murmurs against your neck, lips brushing your skin in a slow, lingering kiss. you giggle, fingers still flying over your screen. “i will, i promise… i’m just checking if i have anything on saturday.”

“mmm, you don’t,” he answers for you, making you pause. “how do you know?”

“because it’s your day off. and sunday, me and gyu are taking you shopping. remember?”

oh, right. the annual sunday shopping trip, which means saturday is completely free for san.

“right, right… okay then, the weekend i’m off work, but i will be going on dates!” you chirp, a little too brightly, as his arm tightens at the plural of the word date.

“you and cashier guy finally meeting properly?”

“yeah, he just asked me. now i have to figure out what outfit to wear…”

“he’s probably seen you naked,” jungkook mutters, gently biting your shoulder. “don’t think it’ll matter.”

there’s something beneath the teasing tone; alas, you are too tired to overanalyze it. he yawns, pressing his face into your hair. “can you please put the phone down? let’s sleep.”

you hum in agreement, because cranky jungkook is not fun to deal with. so you type quickly:

yes. i’d love to.

then another message.

but goodnight now, sweet dreams💜

you set the phone on the nightstand and snuggle deeper into jungkook’s warmth. he kisses the top of your head, pulling the blanket tighter around both of you.

“night, bunny.”

“night, gukkie.” and before you know it you are in dreamland, hoping to see a certain someone there.

san, on the other hand, is wide awake. re-reads your messages at least twenty times. he lies on his bed staring at the ceiling, phone resting on his chest, grin refusing to fade. he secured a date, an actual date, with his celebrity crush and favorite actress… okay, porn actress, but that still counts, it absolutely does.

he doesn’t know to laugh or cry; he really doesn’t. all he wants to tell someone so badly, scream it from his balcony, call a friend and brag, but he can’t. because what if they mock him? what if they tell him he’s delusional? that it’s a prank? a scam? that a woman like you wouldn’t actually want to go out with someone like him?

still… you’ve been texting him for hours. you flirted, sending some pictures that are close to nudes, and most importantly, you said yes.

on his day off, four days from now, he won’t be watching you on a screen; he’ll be sitting across from you, hearing you laugh and smile in real time, getting to know you outside the flashing lights. for once, he won’t be just another viewer; he’ll be the one spending time with you.

he is grateful to everything divine, to the universe, and to his boss for hiring him for this job.

saturday arrived faster than he was ready for.

the days leading up to it had your quick ten-minute visits to the café, lingering by the counter just to see him; the nonstop texting that stretched into late-night calls; the way you’d insisted on meeting somewhere private, and because he respects you far too much to risk your privacy, you both agreed to meet somewhere discreet.

san chose a restaurant that’s far more expensive than anything he’d usually consider. it would probably swallow up a ridiculous portion of his savings. he doesn’t care because you were worth it.

he got there early, paced once outside before forcing himself to stand still, bouquet hidden awkwardly behind his back. he kept checking his reflection in the glass, smoothing his hair, adjusting his jacket.

then you appeared, and he forgot how to function.

you were wearing purple, he had mentioned it was his favorite, and you were popping like a flower in the same color: the dress was short, lilac leaning toward soft lavender, hugging your figure in a way that made his head spin. over it, a light cream ribbed cardigan softened the look, making you seem smaller somehow, sweeter. your shoulder bag matched perfectly, strappy purple heels clicking gently against the pavement as you walked toward him.

you didn’t look like a pornstar — you looked like an ordinary woman in her twenties.

without the sunglasses or the perfect camera angles and dramatic makeup, he noticed how little you were wearing now, enough to highlight your features, lipstick accentuating your smile. makeup or not, camera or not, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

you kept getting closer, that smile growing wider, and he could feel heat rushing up his neck, his ears burning, cheeks flushed as if he had a fever, yeah, maybe because he is lovesick.

“sannie~” the way you said it nearly knocked him out. you slipped your phone into your purse, stopping right in front of him. “i’m sorry if you waited long! traffic was awful.”

get a grip, san. say something normal, don’t freak out. you don’t sound like the woman he’s heard moaning through speakers. you don’t carry yourself like the characters you play. the contrast hits him all at once; it makes him realize how much of what he’s consumed has been performance.

“don’t worry, i just got here,” he lied quickly. he’d been waiting, but you had warned him traffic might slow you down. “oh, uhm…” he cleared his throat, glancing away briefly before bringing the bouquet from behind his back. “this is for you.”

the flowers were carefully arranged, your favorites. the ones you once mentioned absentmindedly in a voice message at three in the morning, thinking he probably wouldn’t remember, but he did. and now he watches your face carefully, nerves creeping back in, hoping, praying, that he got it right.

he held them out with slightly trembling hands, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were. how good you smelled, gosh, your eyes looked even prettier up close.

for a split second, you just stared at him, and your expression softened in a way that made his stomach flip from anxiety. before he could react, you rose onto your tiptoes. the kiss was gentle, your lips brushing his cheek, quick enough to be innocent, long enough to leave him stunned.

when you pulled back, you were smiling again. “thank you,” he stood there, dizzy, heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. “shall we?” you asked, nodding toward the entrance. inside, a quiet corner had been reserved just for the two of you.

it doesn’t even feel like a first date.

you’re laughing, eating, leaning closer over the table as if you’ve known each other for years. you look so pretty, it almost hurts to look at you for too long, and for a moment, all the dirty thoughts disappear.

he doesn’t see you like that right now — not as a body to devour. he never truly saw you as just a piece of meat. yes, he’s a man. the urge to have you, to taste you, to fuck you crosses his mind sometimes. that’s normal, but before any of that, he’s a gentleman, because tonight, he just wants to know you.

“you would not believe the behind-the-scenes drama,” you whispered dramatically, leaning forward as if sharing state secrets. “people think it’s all glamorous, but half the time it’s just us arguing about lighting or someone stealing someone else’s protein bars.”

you’re telling him something funny from work, little things the audience would never know. you talk about your two closest friends, jungkook and mingyu, describing them as kind, dependable, and a little chaotic. you tell him about your life before all of this: how you dropped out of university because it simply wasn’t for you. after all, a piece of paper means nothing if you can’t prove your skills. you mention the struggles you’ve had at home, not diving too deep, but he understands there’s more to you than what the camera shows.

you keep talking, barely pausing for breath, and he listens to every single word. he catches the small details with the way your eyes soften when you mention being a kid, how you have a cat named pawy who lives with your grandparents. you didn’t filter yourself, you just… talked, and he felt honored that you were comfortable enough to do that with him.

then suddenly, you stop mid-sentence, blinking as if you’ve just realized something.

“oh my god, i’m sorry,” you say quickly, a little flustered. “i didn’t mean to talk so much. i–i want to hear about you, too.”

did he win the lottery? a girl like you, sitting across from him, apologizing for being too open. he sets his chopsticks down, covering his mouth politely as he finishes chewing before answering.

“it’s okay, really. i don’t mind,” he says softly. “i actually prefer listening.” pausing and thinking hard. “nothing exciting. i learned taekwondo when i was younger, stuck with it for years, and… i have a cat too, her name’s byeol.”

you leaned forward again, chin resting on your palm, encouraging him with soft nods. and he kept talking about moving to the city from his small town, the cafe and how he liked simple things. you listened the way he had listened to you, and for the first time in a long while, you realize you genuinely like the man sitting across from you. not for the thrill of being bent over, but you like him so much that you’re already imagining your cats meeting.

the conversation stretches until the restaurant begins to quiet down, and it’s time to leave. of course, he pays. it makes his wallet ache a little, but watching you smile, especially when you happily dig into dessert, clearly having a sweet tooth, makes it worth every won.

now, standing outside together, he hesitates about what exactly to do. should he call you a taxi? walk you home? you mentioned you live about thirty minutes away, so a walk might be nice.

walking beneath the moonlight, the sky clear and glowing above you, everything feels strangely perfect. the night air is cool, the streets are quiet, and you’re still talking, hands moving as you describe your next short film. something with mingyu playing a single dad who fucks the babysitter.

“young dilfs sell a lot these days,” you joke lightly. he huffs out a quiet laugh, hands tucked into his coat pockets, listening to everything you have to say. then your steps slow slightly. “am i making you uncomfortable? i mean… you know what i do and–” you press your lips together. “i’m sorry. i’ll stop talking about it.”

that makes him stop walking altogether. you take a few more steps before realizing he isn’t beside you anymore. when you turn around, he’s just standing there, looking at you. uncomfortable? him? the man who watches you through a screen like you were his guilty pleasure.

“you’re not making me uncomfortable,” he says, stepping closer. “i’m actually glad you feel comfortable enough with me to talk about that stuff.”

you search his face, trying to see whether he’s just being polite.

“i don’t want you to think i’m… i don’t know, that i’m too much,” you admit quietly. “or that this is all i am.”

“i don’t think like that,” he says without hesitation. “your job doesn’t define you. i don’t see you as less, and i don’t see you as just… that.” he swallows, a little shy but sincere. “i think you are a wonderful person. you have goals and dreams, and i'm sure you will achieve them.”

your shoulders relax at that, cheeks heating at the comment, resuming your pace beside him, offering a soft thank you. you explain that you don’t usually talk about work on dates, but with him, it feels natural. you feel so at peace to the point you don't even care. it's like he's bringing out the child in you, the part that was suppressed and silenced, now can't stop shining and rambling.

before you realize it, you’ve reached your apartment complex. he’s still holding the bouquet. “these are yours,” he says softly, finally handing them to you. you take them carefully, smiling up at him, and then you rise onto your tiptoes again. your lips brush his in a gentle kiss.

“thank you, san,” you murmur when you pull back. “i had a really great time. i hope we can go out again.”

he’s completely smitten. you kissed him. it was just a small peck, but it sends his entire brain into shutdown. his first kiss, ever. his lips part slightly in shock, eyes wide, and you can’t help but notice. a tiny smile curves your mouth before you lean in once more, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, longer this time, making his knees feel weak.

“text me when you get home, okay?” you whisper. “goodnight, san. and thank you so much again for tonight.”

before he can gather a proper response, you’re stepping back, offering him one last smile before disappearing inside the building. the door closes, and he’s left standing there, staring at it.

how is he supposed to just go home now, when all he wants is to stay a little longer?

after that night, things don’t slow down; if anything, they speed up. seeing san becomes something you look forward to between shoots, meetings, and the chaos of your schedule.

the second date is at the aquarium. you insist on sunglasses and, unfortunately, a very styled and perfectly placed wig, just in case. the last thing you need is a mother recognizing you and causing a scene in front of her kid. you don’t want whispers or comments; you just want to watch the fish in peace.

when you stand in front of the giant glass tank, blue light reflecting across your face, he finds himself staring at you more than the sea creatures. you press closer to his side when a group of teenagers passes by, and without thinking, his hand settles at your lower back, and it doesn't move from there all day… maybe it did to hold your hand when he sensed how stressed you become around that many people.

the third date is a disaster, because it rains. not the romantic kind you see in movies. it’s heavy and restlessness, your carefully planned picnic is canceled, the park is muddy and miserable. you pout for a second before laughing it off.

“we’re cursed,” you joke over the phone, before he speaks. “or… you could come over to my place? i’ll pick you up.”

you agree, and it turns out to be simple. takeout containers on his small table, a show neither of you really pays attention to. you curl up under his blanket like you’ve done it a hundred times before, head pressed on his shoulder, nothing dramatic happens, but it makes you want more.

the fourth date is unexpectedly adorable. a clay class, your fingers get messy, and you end up laughing more than actually sculpting anything useful. san concentrates so hard it’s almost funny, tongue poking slightly against his cheek as he tries to shape something decent. and for that, you have a new vase as a gift, now you finally have a place to put your lego flowers. afterward, he accompanies you to the nail salon. your schedule is packed, and the only free day you have is the one with the appointment. instead of canceling, you drag him along.

“you pick,” you tell him, holding out the sample colors.

“me?” he blinks at shades and hues he has never seen.

“yes, you.”

he chooses a light shade of purple. you never thought you’d like the color this much, but lately it’s everywhere — your dresses, your nails, small details you don’t even consciously plan.

by the fifth date, something stirs inside you, and you don’t know if it’s the butterflies.

texts aren’t enough anymore, calls don’t satisfy you, not even the men you work with: men who know exactly how to touch you, how to make you moan on cue, they can’t distract you from how much you want san.

he’s good-looking, gentle, caring, kind, emotionally intelligent, and observant. he remembers the smallest details, he makes you laugh without trying too hard. he feels like your safe place, your prince charming waiting to find the princess with the missing glassy heel.

jungkook notices the change in you. he’s sprawled across your couch one evening, wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts. you’re curled up at the other end, dressed in his oversized t-shirt, your bare legs tucked beneath you. he finds that strange. you’re into another man now, have real feelings for him, yet you’re still fucking with your co-star whenever it’s convenient. you're weird, but you must be confused. a lollipop tucked into his cheek as he watches you zone out, smiling faintly at your phone.

“cashier guy’s been on your mind a lot lately, huh?” he says, and you don’t even look up at first.

“cashier guy has a name, and it’s san.”

the correction is immediate, and you sound a little offended. he hums, watching you more carefully now. he didn't say anything for the next few minutes, just trying to enjoy the taste of the strawberry and not think about you so much in ways he shouldn't.

but it wasn’t easy, since he was your first — the one glued to your side in this industry, your partner on set, your comfort after long days, knowing your habits, your moods, somewhere along the way, liking you became… love. he’s never really allowed himself to name it. what could he even do with it? feelings don’t bend just because you want them to. he can’t force yours, or rewrite them, make you look at him the way you clearly look at san.

now he needed something stronger than the taste of a sweet lollipop.

he pushes himself up and heads toward the balcony, grabbing a cigarette from the pack he keeps hidden in his jacket. the night air is cold, as he exhales smoke into the dark. every now and then, he glances back inside through the glass door. you’re still smiling… that soft, glowing smile you didn’t have a few months ago.

he hates losing, but what he hates more is seeing you unhappy, and right now, he can’t ignore that. exhaling slowly, letting the smoke leave his body along with some of the tension. maybe this is what compromise feels like: loving someone sometimes means stepping aside.

finishing the cigarette slowly, stubbing it out in the ashtray before returning inside. for a moment, he just stands there, watching you. then he walks over, sits beside you, and gently pulls the phone from your hands.

“jungkook, what–”

“i think it’s time we talk about a few things.”

you blink at him, confused. he looks serious, your phone still in his grip. when you reach for it, he lifts it just out of reach.

“relax,” he sighs, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he ruffles your hair with his free hand. “i just want to talk about you and san. you know… making sure everything’s okay. don’t want you grumpy on set.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “i’m not grumpy.”

“you wouldn’t know if you were,” he shoots back lightly, but you settle back against the couch, smiling at yourself, cheeks heating up from thinking about san.

“it’s been… really good,” you admit after a second. “like, really good and i just can’t put it into words. we’ve been seeing each other for… almost two months now?”

“almost two months, eh?” he repeats quietly. you nod, fingers twisting the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “he’s just… different, and doesn’t treat me like–” you stop, searching for the right word. “like some fantasy or fixation, he treats me like a human being.”

and you keep talking about him, sometimes you even stop to think, blushing, words escape your vocabulary. you can't even look your colleague in the eye because you're suddenly shy. jungkook sees it by the way you shine more lately. the softness in your voice when you talk about san. you’ve become gentler somehow, more affectionate, more openly feminine in a way that isn’t staged: you’re in love.

“if you want to be with him,” jungkook says quietly, “don’t wait for some perfect moment, there isn’t one. just say it.”

you look at him. “say what?”

“the three magical words.” you are a little shocked by how suddenly he said it, “but,” he adds, leaning back, “be careful, you never really know, he’s still a man.”

there’s no bitterness in his tone, no jealousy or negativity. that’s him being honest and protective, watching out for you and always having your back. and in that moment, jungkook lets you go, at least in his mind. his heart will take longer, that much he knows.

but for now, he leans back into the couch, nudging your knee with his.

“wanna play mario kart?”

you smile, getting up for the nintendo switch. “only if you don't sulk when you lose~”

san’s nervous about having you at his place again.

it’s not like you haven’t been here multiple times already. tonight his kitchen is a complete mess. flour dusts the counter, there’s some on your cheek, he wipes it off. you’re trying to recreate his café’s chocolate cake: the one you ordered the very first time you walked in and unknowingly changed his life. at least, you’re trying. san is already mentally preparing himself to gently take the bowl from your hands before you accidentally ruin it.

this is the sixth date, though you have lost count due to your busy schedule. two and a half months have passed since you started going out, it's like a magician snapped their fingers, making everything happen so quickly... well, not quite everything, you're not together yet.

he’s standing behind you now, hands resting on your waist, as he leans in slightly, peeking over your shoulder as you measure out cocoa powder. it's really sweet, and he doesn't think about the ingredients in the cake. “mhm… you’re doing well,” he murmurs, giving you a light squeeze. in reality, he’s watching closely to make sure you don’t mix up the salt and sugar. “okay,” he adds by gently, clearing his throat. “i think that’s enough, let me handle it.”

and now you’re here, wearing his hoodie and a pair of shorts, legs bare, sitting comfortably on his kitchen counter while he finishes preparing the cake like you haven’t completely wrecked him.

san is a total loser — a virgin, a porn-addicted, chronically online, king-of-losers virgin.

he still wonders how you haven't found sex tapes, movies, magazines, posters of you, or the toy he uses to pretend to be you, and you have no idea, probably assuming he’s your average guy with enough screen time. when you asked him why he had a projector in his bedroom, his answer was feeling nostalgic about disney movies out of nowhere. you don't know, but you suspect he had at least one or two ex-girlfriends, someone must have fallen for him at some point, right? he’s good-looking and polite, but he’s never talked about past relationships, nor have you, because the topic never came up.

you don’t know you were his first kiss, or that when you leaned up on your tiptoes that night outside your apartment, his brain completely shut off, and you definitely don’t know that you might be his first love.

love.

it’s a heavy word, one that has too much weight on the tip of his tongue, but his heart already knows what his mind does not. he can’t even look at other women anymore. actresses, celebrities, idols, faces he once scrolled through mindlessly now blur together, since he doesn’t care about them, he doesn’t want them… he wants you.

“sannie,” you hum, watching him move. “do you go to the gym a lot?”

he nearly drops the whisk. “h-huh?”

“your arms,” you say sweetly, tilting your head. “they don’t just look like that for no reason. is it for health or… aesthetics?”

“uh– i wanted to get in shape, so when i can i go, yeah.”

you are still on the counter, your clean hand sliding up his arm before giving it an experimental squeeze. his muscles tense automatically under your touch. you squeeze again, genuinely impressed. don’t even get started on his broad back, stretching the fabric of his t-shirt every time he moves. you let your fingers trail down his arm, curious and teasing without even trying.

meanwhile, his brain is screaming because he’s so down bad it’s embarrassing.

the cake goes into the oven. he wipes his hands on a towel, trying to act normal, due to you standing too close and smelling like his cologne. out of nowhere, you kiss him. soft at first, he tastes cocoa on your lips. his hands automatically brace on either side of you as he’s between your legs now. your fingers slide into his hair, nails scraping lightly at his scalp, and his entire spine lights up.

your thighs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. fuck, he has a boner, a very obvious one. he prays you don’t notice, unfortunately, you do. he thinks you've probably felt more boners than he's ever jerked off. you pull back just slightly, lips swollen, that teasing smile curving your mouth, the one he’s seen a million times on a screen, but this time it’s for him.

“sannie?”

“hmm?”

“do you want to… you know?”

he’s fantasized about this more times than he should. in his head, he’s confident and experienced, but in reality? he’s a virgin with a racing heart and no idea if he’s ready to be the man you deserve in that way. so like the absolute loser he is, he leans in and kisses you again instead of answering. deeper this time, slowly to buy time. your lips move together, breath mingling, hands wandering but not crossing that invisible line.

for now, making out feels safer than risking everything.

a few days before the seventh date, during his break at the café, san found himself lingering by the back entrance. he wasn’t even a smoker, but he’d just taken the trash out and decided to sit on the narrow staircase, enjoying a few quiet minutes alone, as he scrolled through his phone, smiling softly at your messages.

you’re at work too, busy filming with yeonjun, warning him that the project would take more time and focus, that replies might be slow. still, you sent him little things whenever you could, such as short voice notes, silly tiktoks, edits of cute kittens captioned “me and u,” or random clips you found funny.

he replies to every single one, so caught up in typing and reacting to each video as if it were the highlight of his day that he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching. the soft scrape of heavy soles against asphalt, the faint clink of chains, and the sound stopped right in front of him.

still looking down, so he didn’t immediately see the large black combat boots planted a few inches away. slowly lifting his head to see… jeon jungkook standing there in broad daylight looking like a rockstar, a lollipop tucked between his lips. no sunglasses, with no attempt to hide, pulling the sweet treat from his mouth, tilting his head slightly.

“you got a minute?”

san’s first thought was irrational and immediate, heart jumped straight into his throat: this is it. i’m about to get beaten up, blackmailed, thrown in the dumpster behind my own workplace.

what was the golden boy doing behind a random café in the middle of the day… and why does he look so calm about it? but he couldn’t show fear, especially not in front of someone like him: this is your closest friend, your co-star, the man who had you first.

san nodded slowly, sliding his phone into the pocket of his apron as he started to rise, jungkook waved his tattooed hand lazily. “no need to get up. relax.”

and then he sat down beside him. manspreading casually, forearms resting on his thighs, skin showing through his ripped jeans, the lollipop returned to his mouth, tongue pressing it lightly against his teeth. silence stretches between them. it was awkward, because san had no idea what to say. after a moment, jungkook pulled the candy out again, tucked it neatly into its wrapper, and slid it into his pocket. he pulled out a cigarette pack instead, tapping one free and holding it between his lips.

“want one?” he asked, words slightly muffled as he offered the pack.

“thanks, but i don’t smoke.”

“ah, i see.”

the lighter flicked, smoke curled upward, followed by another pause, then casually, as if they were discussing the weather or why the dinosaurs went extinct, the older spoke. “so, you’re the guy.”

“i– i guess…”

“you serious?”

direct question with no aggression behind it. not hostile, but not exactly friendly either, just assessing and testing the man you talked non-stop about during late-night dinners, shopping sprees and any second of the day. jungkook isn't here to nag or threaten; he was just curious to see what kind of person the cashier guy was.

“i wouldn’t be doing this if i wasn’t.”

“yeah?” the smoker asked, raising his pierced eyebrow, “serious like a fan, or something else?”

san swallowed before continuing, words still trying to form themselves to explain properly, to prove himself.

“i don’t see her like… like she’s not just what’s on screen. she’s–” he stopped himself, exhaling. “(name)’s funny, and kind. she remembers little things and gets excited over silly stuff. she sends me cat videos even when extremely busy because she doesn’t want me to feel ignored.”

his voice softened without him realizing, literal heart in his eyes as he spoke so fondly of you.

“i just… i like being around her, even when we’re not doing anything and she deserves to be treated like any other girl in the world, so i’m trying my very best to make her feel cherished.”

jungkook took a slow drag from his cigarette, smoke filling his lungs before he let it spill out in a hazy stream.

“you are in love with her, hm?” he asked bluntly, and goosebumps appeared on san’s skin, and it wasn't from him only wearing a shirt or the fact that they were in the shade, but the silence was answer enough.

jungkook saw the way his cheeks turned red, fingers curled slightly against his knees, smudging the apron. you are definitely not a fan’s obsession, or some shallow fixation, maybe a dirty little secret, but his energy itself didn't reek of lust.

smirking faintly, smoke slipping from his mouth as he leaned back. “she acts tough, but she’s softer than she lets people think.”

“yeah, i know,” san chuckled, a little nervously. somehow, they were finding a rhythm, an understanding point beyond awkwardness.

“if you hurt her in any way, i will find you.” this is a real threat now, but then jungkook nudged him lightly with his elbow. “chill, if i wanted to beat you up, i would have done that already.”

he takes one final drag, then drops the cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his boot. walking away, as he glances back briefly. yeah, this guy isn’t just obsessed, he’s in love.

“oh, before i forget,” jungkook turns around, rummaging through his pocket before coming closer to take san’s hand and giving him something in his palm. to which san was more than confused, looking down because what he gave him was a condom, in a purple wrapper. “handle with care~”

the golden boy kept walking as if nothing happened. did san just get approved to date you… or accidentally got cast in a porn shoot?

people say that seven is a lucky number. there are seven wonders of the world, seven colors in the rainbow, and when someone feels blissfully happy, they say they’re in seventh heaven. seven also happens to be san’s birth month. tonight is the seventh date, and it’s the first time he’s officially coming over to your place with the intention of staying.

he becomes hyperaware the second he steps into your bedroom. he’s seen this room before, obviously, but now that he’s actually here, it feels different, rather strange. on a bed where people have fucked you countless times on camera, he’s currently sitting on the edge of it, hands resting awkwardly on his thighs. the mattress is soft, memory foam, and the bed itself is spacious; he assumes you must sleep like a princess.

his eyes wander around the room while he tries to act normal. your pc setup sits neatly against the wall, surrounded by figures of different game characters. there are albums from your favorite artists stacked beside them, a few posters decorating the walls, and his gaze lingers on the small vase sitting on your shelf, the one he made for you. lego flowers bloom out of it in bright plastic colors, cute.

you change right in front of him without thinking twice. your pajamas are simple: an oversized shirt he gave you the last time you stayed at his place, hanging loosely over your body, and nothing but your panties underneath. for someone who has seen you naked more times than he could count, san still shies away, suddenly very interested in his own fingers as he fidgets with them.

all he’s wearing is gray sweatpants and a compressed black shirt. earlier you had waited for him at his place while he showered after hitting the gym, and then he drove the two of you here.

“sannie, don’t be shy now… it’s not like you don’t know what i do,” you tease lightly, moving toward your desk, grabbing the micellar water to clean the makeup from your face. settling into your chair, you prop up the small mirror and soak a cotton pad. your back faces him, but you can still see him through the reflection. he’s still looking around the room, lips pressed together like he’s trying not to say something.

“i’ve meant to ask,” you continue lightly, wiping at the corner of your eye, “do you have a favorite video of mine? surely you have one. i think a fan favorite is the jungkook brat-taming one… i’m not sure, though.”

truthfully, you’re not even sure if it’s okay to talk about your work since… you don’t really know what else to talk about. that’s the most interesting thing about you, isn’t it? the porn, the thing people know you for. sometimes you bring it up just so the conversation doesn’t fall flat. just so he doesn’t lose interest, because a part of you is scared he might.

“oh… yeah, that video did blow up,” san says, nodding slowly. he blinks a few times, carefully keeping his face neutral. even though it’s a fan favorite, it was never really his thing. he always liked the softer vibes, the romantic, almost vanilla moments more than anything else. he’s a romantic guy, after all. “i’m not really that familiar,” he adds quickly. “i mean, i know who you are, but i’m not… really into that kind of stuff.”

lies, bunch of lies, a whole pile of them.

he doesn’t even know why he’s saying it. maybe to avoid looking like the complete loser he feels like, or maybe to make himself seem different from all the other guys who simp for you online. perhaps it’s pride, some stupid masculine instinct that refuses to admit how many nights he spent watching you, even though he’s not like the others, at least… not entirely.

everyone else fell for the actress — he fell in love with the woman behind the scenes.

“san,” your chair spins around slowly until you’re facing him. “why are you lying to me?”

your face is bare now, stripped clean of makeup just like the question you’ve asked. no foundation to soften or cover, and you already know the answer. you knew from the moment you first met him, using yone as your pseudonym. very few of your fans know you switch between names from different games. sometimes you’re yoru, other times you’re tifa, maybe ada when you feel like a resident in the evil, but yone is the one you use the most.

you looked him in the eyes, but he looked away, and you noticed how he was breathing; that tight t-shirt wasn't helping him much, his fingers were curled into nervous fists against his thighs, and one of his legs kept bouncing slightly.

“i am not lying,” he said, and the voice of an inexperienced liar will always crack a little, but then you actually feel bad, somehow used, even if you work in an environment where your body is what you offer, this is about your heart. the person you trusted, who you swore was different.

"you sure aren’t. is that why i found a picture of me in a bikini among your cookbooks? oh, or a magazine with me on the cover of last month's playboy issue between your playstation games?"

the own goal had been scored long ago; it was just the referee who had a delayed reaction.

“(name), i–” “you what?” and here you stood up from your chair, angry and offended, with slightly teary eyes, because you felt really humiliated, “what else do you have to tell me? i bet all your friends probably know by now, maybe you posted a picture of me on reddit. did you leak my number, or are you still waiting for that?"

“please, (name), listen to me,” san gets up, taking a step toward you. “this isn’t what it looks li–”

“not what it looks like?” you cut him off, your voice rising. “i was stupid enough to think someone like me could be wanted for something other than my body.”

the words leave your mouth, and the second they do, they hurt, because part of you believes them. san looks like you’ve just struck him across the face.

“that’s not…” he starts, but you’re already spiraling. the man stands there helplessly for a moment, his hands lift awkwardly, unsure where they’re supposed to go: your shoulders, your arms, pulling you into a hug, or just holding you still. he doesn’t know; he just knows he hates the look on your face. “(name), please, i’d never… it’s just–”

“what, san?” your voice cracking now, anger and hurt mixing within, making your lower lip tremble, “why did you even–”

“because i love you.”

the room goes completely still. you stop mid-sentence, mouth parting slightly. your eyes widen as you stare at him, your nails digging into your palms. san looks terrified, just as shocked as you are. the confession tore itself out of him without permission; it just happened, maybe it really does happen when you least expect it.

“i love you, and i didn’t want you to think i was just another guy watching your videos and getting off to you,” he admits, voice softening so did his eyes, “i didn’t want you to think that’s all you were to me, because you’re not.”

“you… love me?” you whisper, and san nods slowly. his hands finally reach for yours, hesitant at first, like he expects you to pull away. when you don’t, his fingers slide between yours, holding on carefully as you let him. two idiots standing in the middle of the bedroom, hearts pounding, neither of you quite sure how things got this far.

“i’m sorry i lied and hid things from you, and i promise you, i don’t watch those videos anymore, not like that,” his thumb brushes over your knuckles in soothing circles, “to me you’re…” he exhales, searching for the words, his gaze flickers downward for a moment before snapping back up, “...you’re everything. my dream girl. someone i want to take out on dates, fall asleep next to, and wake up with. someone i want to call my girlfriend, and so much more.”

“san…”

he is clearly realizing what he just admitted, but he doesn’t pull away. if anything, his grip tightens a little.

“and yeah, maybe it drives me insane knowing other people get to see you in such light, because they don’t know you,” he says. “they don’t get the version of you that gets angry when you don’t get your daily dose of sugar, or analyzes the entire discography of some singer. they neither see your smile when you win a game, nor see how you drool while sleeping in my arms, when you are truly relaxed.”

san exhales slowly, trying to get control of himself, but it’s obvious he’s failing. his voice drops lower, “honestly…” he admits, almost under his breath, “being in this room right now is kind of torture.”

his eyes flick down your body again — your bare legs, the thin panties, the oversized shirt that belongs to him, then back to your face. your beautiful face and those lovely sparkling eyes that shouldn't have tears of anger or frustration, but of happiness, and he will make sure to bring the light in them again. so far, he is succeeding.

“i’ve seen you naked a hundred times… but this is the first time you’re actually standing this close to me.”

you’re the one who moves first without even thinking twice. your hands are untangled from his, going to tighten in his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss that completely knocks the breath out of him. san freezes for half a second before he melts into it, his hands finally finding your waist as he clumsily kisses you back.

the kiss is messy, weeks of tension snapping all at once. he stumbles back a step when you push him, still kissing him, your bodies colliding until the back of his knees hit the mattress, making the bed dip as he falls onto it, and you follow immediately, landing on top of him. the movement makes him gasp softly against your mouth. for someone who’s watched you on a screen countless times, the reality of you straddling him feels almost like an illusion.

your lips part from his slowly. when he looks up at you, slightly dazed, you’re smirking. your fingers slide onto his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath.

"do you want to fuck a pornstar?"

you straddle him, hips grinding slowly, as if you aren’t fully aware of what you’re doing to him. san’s hands are on your waist, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of the shirt you’re wearing, as he just looks up at you: your hair falls around your face as you lean down again, lips brushing his, teasing, barely giving him a real kiss before pulling away.

smiling like you already know the answer, thinking you’ve won, as your hips grind down once more, and you dip your head again to kiss him…

“do you want to fuck a virgin?”

the words land quietly between your mouths, making you freeze on the spot. your body goes rigid on top of him, the movement stopping so suddenly as your lips part slightly, eyes blinking as if you’re not sure you heard him right.

“what?”

but san doesn’t repeat it; he just watches the surprise slowly spread across your face. the shock and the confusion, how your body tenses, and that’s when he moves. his hands tighten around your waist, and suddenly the world flips. the mattress dips beneath your back as he rolls you over, the breath leaving your lungs in a quiet gasp as you land against the sheets.

your hair spills across the pillow, heart hammering from how sudden the action was, and now he’s above you. san braces his arms on either side of your head, caging you in, his body settling between your legs. your eyes flicker between his face and his arms, the muscles in his biceps flexing from the way he’s holding himself above you.

“a virgin?” you finally whisper, san tilts his head slightly, studying your every tiny reaction. there’s a faint smirk tugging at his mouth now, but his eyes look different.

not like the men you’ve been with before. definitely not like the ones on set, or the ones who look at you like you’re something to consume. there’s something that’s not lust… something that makes you feel the butterflies in your stomach, maybe it’s love?

“san…” your voice drops, because wait, does that mean… your eyes widen a little more. “don’t tell me that means i’m–”

he hums softly, his shoulders lift slightly in a casual shrug, but the way he’s looking at you says everything. you stare at him, brain racing and going in outer space to think about everything you know about him, or thought you knew: no girlfriends, more so no stories about exes. the way he used to get shy sometimes when you kissed him out of nowhere as well… the way he was hesitant not to go beyond making out.

because san learned how to kiss from kissing you, he never talked about exes because there weren’t any. leaning down slightly, cutting you off before you can finish the thought.

“what is it, baby?” the word hits you harder than the flip onto the bed. baby. your face warms instantly, as the smirk on his face grows just a little as he watches the rare sight of you being utterly speechless. “what happened? a minute ago, you were so confident.”

your hands clutch the fabric of his shirt as your brain struggles to catch up.

“mm, so,” he hums again, gaze drifting briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes once more. “still want to do it?”

he is the first man to ever get you into a state like this.

not mingyu with his size kink, not taehyung when he used to kiss his way down on you, and definitely not jungkook when he pinned your wrists above your head like it was nothing. none of them, even scripted, could do that. yet san, who claims he’s a virgin, is the one who has you breathless beneath him. you are used to being desired physically, but not emotionally.

he knows you from the outside. he had time to learn that much, the expressions you make, the way you laugh, the little habits you don’t even realize you have. now he’s looking at you like he’s about to learn the rest of it from the inside. leaning down and pressing a soft peck to your lips. your hands immediately move to the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you start to remove it. san notices, chuckling,

“my girl is impatient?”

the words make your hands pause halfway up his torso. my girl. oh… oh god. the simple praise hits you harder than anything else tonight. you’re the one freezing, fingers still tangled in the cotton of his shirt, and why are you nervous?

you, the woman people call the sex symbol of the century. you, who has done things on camera that make strangers lose their minds, here you are staring up at him like you forgot how to talk to a man or form a proper thought.

“what? you don’t like it?” his brow lifts slightly, and your silence makes his smile grow a little more mischievous. you like pet names, that’s for sure, and this is his first time using one. he wanted to see what you liked and what you didn't.

“princess.” he says softly, and your stomach flips.

“angel.” your throat feels dry.

“doll.” you swear he could call you the worst things imaginable, like a whore or a good-for-nothing cumdump, and you’d still melt under that voice.

“stop distracting me,” you mumble, because you were supposed to be the one to make him flustered and lose his mind.

“i’m distracting you?” you tug his shirt up and over his head; it falls somewhere beside the bed. you’ve seen his body before, you know he’s toned and takes great care of his appearance, broad through the shoulders, arms stronger than they look when he’s casually making coffee or mixing cake batter in the kitchen. his skin is warm beneath your hands as you slide them over his chest, and heat rushes through it, almost making you dizzy.

you are wet and desperate already, and for the first time in your life, the feeling almost makes you feel like you’re the inexperienced one, as if you’re the virgin. the adorable and shy boy you met is still somewhere inside him. he’s just… stepping outside his comfort zone tonight. your fingers trail across his chest again before sliding up around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

your lips meet his in a rather slow and intense kiss. san exhales softly against your mouth. your hands wander over his back, exploring, your manicured nails digging in, learning the shape of him, the way he’s been learning you.

he didn’t want to rush it, but neither of you had the patience for that. forcing himself to slow down as he slid lower along your body, his hands dragging your t-shirt up inch by inch as he moved. the fabric gathered at your ribs, then higher, until it was bunched at your chest.

your head tipped back immediately, back arched, palms pressing against his shoulders, nails digging slightly into warm skin. his eyes lifted to yours, soft but daring.

“show me who you are,” there was something almost pleading in his gaze, something hungry but reverent at the same time. you understood instantly what he meant, even before his lips brushed warm air over your exposed stomach, whispering, “pornstar.”

then he pulled the shirt over your head completely and tossed it aside. now you were laid bare for him, almost naked, if not for the damp lace clinging to your hips. san stared for a moment when his mouth found your skin. he kissed down your body, open-mouthed and warm, leaving a wet trail of heat until he reached your chest. his lips wrapped around one breast while his hand closed around the other, squeezing, as if he’d been waiting forever to have you like this.

you gasped, hips shifting, your fingers tangled into his hair while he sucked and licked like he’d been doing this his entire life.

“s–san…” your voice came out breathless, as he hummed. “do you… know how to leave hickeys?”

he paused, his mouth lifted from you, eyes flicking up.

“don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“i don’t care, i will call sick… i want you in and on my body.”

that was all the permission he needed. then he leaned back down with his mouth latched onto your skin again — your chest, collarbone, neck, careful at first, then harder. your skin flushed under his mouth, blooming into deep shades of red he clearly approved of.

he might be a virgin, but he wasn’t clueless. san had watched enough tutorials, read enough things, paid attention to enough details to know exactly what he was doing. late-night curiosity, and you know what they say about curiosity killing the cat. just because he hadn’t slept with anyone didn’t mean he was innocent, because mentally he was a whore.

and you wanted the evidence. you wanted the marks, the proof pressed into your skin. tomorrow those women colleagues of yours at work will see, maybe they’d realize you were more than the filthy comments online and the overly good reviews, more than the way your male co-stars bragged about spoiling you.

you are more than your looks and a body on a screen.

your breathing grew heavier by the second. your hands didn’t know what to do: grabbing his shoulders, sliding down his back, nails digging into the muscle there hard enough that next time he went to the gym, someone might ask if he fought a feral lynx.

but you couldn’t help it, could you now? he was everywhere with his mouth, his hands, the heat of his body pressing into yours…

“ah!” the sound burst from you when his teeth suddenly sank into your shoulder, enough to sting. you’d been bitten before. yeonjun had a habit of it when things got heated; however, the pressure of san’s bite, the slow drag of his teeth against your skin, and the way his tongue soothed the spot right after. it hurt, and somehow felt too good at the same time.

the bite pulls a sound from you that sits somewhere between pain and pleasure, making you jolt before melting into heat. he soothes it immediately with his tongue, and the second he feels you not pulling away, his confidence grows. he lingers there for a moment, watching your face, studying the way your expression and breathing change, and realizes you liked it. only then does he start moving down your body again, giving you time to recover… or so you think. you can already see the faint bruises blooming across your chest and shoulders, a few scattered lower on your stomach, and for a second, you worry about what must be happening to your neck. well… that’s a problem for tomorrow.

he moves, you tense a little, and of course, he notices. the subtle shift in your muscles doesn’t stop him; it only pushes him further. his lips keep trailing downward, kissing slowly along until his face is hovering just above the lace of your panties, and then he looks up at you from down there. the sight alone makes heat rush to your cheeks. you think he’ll use his hands, maybe hook his fingers into the fabric and slide them down as anyone else would, but… he doesn’t.

using his teeth, slowly gripping the waistband between them by giving a teasing tug, the lace stretching as he pulls it down inch by inch, his hands only joining in when his index fingers slip beneath the sides to help guide the fabric lower. the delicate material strains, stretching tight between his fingers before the sound finally breaks the quiet with a soft stretch, then a rip. you freeze when you hear it, he just stares at the ruined lace in his hands… and then looks back up at you. a sheepish, almost sweet smile spreads across his face.

“my next paycheck will cover that.”

setting the ruined lace aside like it doesn’t matter at all, because right now it clearly doesn’t. when his attention returns to you, he looks like he can hardly believe what he’s seeing. his expression softens with something dangerously close to awe, like every part of you is somehow prettier now that he’s seeing it with his own eyes instead of through a screen. is this really what a wet and pretty pussy looks like in real life?

he can’t stop staring, and the intensity of it makes you suddenly shy again. you, the pornstar, feeling shy. naked in a way you never expected, exposed under the weight of his gaze, almost wanting to close your legs just to hide. he doesn’t let you. strong hands settle on your thighs, holding them open just enough so he can keep looking, letting himself enjoy the view before he completely loses control. and god, he’s jealous. jealous of jungkook, jealous of mingyu, jealous of anyone who has ever gotten to see you like this face to face… or face to cunt, if he’s being honest.

“san, please…” your voice comes out softer than you meant it to, breath catching somewhere in your chest. “just… start slow, use your tongue first to explore.”

you start to guide him, words meant to tell him what to do, but he barely needs them. you could probably stay silent, and he’d still know. he’s a fan, after all. the obsessed and attentive kind, also the pretty one. why lie to ourselves? he might be some kind of creep, but pretty privilege is a real thing.

the truth is, he’s learned more than enough from watching mingyu alone — the way that man eats anything put in front of him like it’s the last meal on earth. absolutely feral, and apparently a very good teacher… of course, for purely scientific purposes. besides, you’re even more beautiful up close than the camera ever showed. no one ever talked about how tender you are here. videos never showed this part, probably because everything there is scripted, exaggerated, and forced into angles that sell the fantasy.

“don’t worry, princess,” he murmurs when he finally lifts himself closer to you again, warm breath hovering there. “you’ll enjoy it as much as i will.”

if you’re not relaxed, you’re not going to come, and right now your body is too aware of every place he’s yet to touch. so you force yourself to let go of the tension, sinking back against the mattress, trusting him. the funny thing is, san thought he’d be nervous when this moment finally happened. thought he’d freeze, hesitate, panic.

instead… his body just knows what to do.

and you know what they say before dinner, thank you for the meal. his hands slide beneath you, lifting your hips so he can support your back better, positioning you exactly where he wants you. then his tongue finally moves. slow at first, smooth and deliberate, pushing forward with careful strokes like he’s testing you, exploring this new territory.

san can’t quite believe he’s actually doing it, can’t believe you taste this sweet, and this real. your breathing turns heavier, surprised at how gentle he is and what he’s about to do next. he speeds up just a little after that, growing bolder, saliva gathering so everything becomes slicker, wetter, and messier in the best way. he isn’t rushing though, not at all. he’s paying attention to every reaction your body gives him. his nails aren’t long, but his fingers dig slightly into your thighs to hold you steady, and that alone pulls a soft moan from you.

“angel, if i do something you like…” pausing to lift his head to glance up at you again before that devilish little smile spreads across his mouth. “tell me.”

then he dives back in, dragging his tongue up your slit before sealing his mouth around you, sucking hard enough to make your hips jerk. the wet sounds are shameless now, muffled only by his low groans as he presses closer. god, he’s only just started. you don’t even know what turns you on more — the feeling of his mouth buried between your legs, lapping and tasting like he’s starving for it, or the fact that your soon-to-be boyfriend, the shy virgin you thought you knew, somehow knows exactly what he’s doing.

your thighs clamp around his head as your body reacts harder with every flick of his tongue. each movement draws another whine from you, louder than the last, your chest rising and falling as your fingers thread through his silky black hair. you tug, not to pull him away, no, the opposite. you push him deeper, forcing him closer.

“t-that’s it, s-sannie…” your voice shakes as you breathe it out.

you’re divine like this: strings of saliva stretch from his lower lip to your folds when he lifts his mouth enough to breathe, his nose brushing against you while his tongue circles back again. he moans into you, the vibration sending another jolt through your body. he’s completely drunk on you now, lost in the taste and the sounds you’re making for him. his hips start grinding against the mattress without him even realizing it, desperate and messy, while his tongue moves faster. maybe it’s because you’re praising him, the way you sound when you say his name, or maybe it’s because this moment he’d imagined too many times is finally real, and his ego is feeding on every gasp you give him.

somewhere along the way, he relaxes completely. the nervous thoughts about whether he’d be good enough disappear the second you start moaning his name. after that, the pace only picks up.

“san, san, san, san–”

you chant it breathlessly, but he barely hears you anymore. he’s too focused, too lost in the rhythm of it, too busy devouring you with his mouth and tongue like he never wants to stop. breathing is becoming difficult for him, too; his chest rises faster as he keeps going.

but he doesn’t care, why would he? this is exactly where he wants to be.

tongue licking a filthy stripe from your clit down to your fluttering hole, he had never tasted anything so intoxicating in his life. greedy slurping sounds fill the room as his face stays buried between your thighs, and honestly don’t mind him or his sudden urge to commit every possible sin as he nudges and prods at your sensitive bundle of nerves. please excuse this gentleman for the mouthfuls of saliva drenching your pussylips and dribbling down onto your bedsheets while he eats you like a man starved for years, licking deep and slow before dragging his tongue back up again just to feel you shudder.

“ah– fuck, san… please, ‘m gonna–” you sob, your hands gripping his scalp, fingers tangling in his hair as your thighs tremble helplessly under his grip. he’s relentless, licking you so obscenely that tears prick the corners of your eyes, your cries getting louder with every sloppy flick of his tongue. you try to guide him through it, voice shaking as you gasp, “s-slower… no– wait, right there… fuck, sannie keep doing that, don’t stop… use your tongue like that– oh god…” and he listens, of course he does, drinking in every instruction like gospel.

“i can’t– fuck i’m gonna– san, please f-fuck…” your voice breaks into a helpless whimper as he keeps devouring you, keeps groaning into your pussy like he’s starving and you’re the only meal he’s ever been allowed to have. you’re shaking now, sobbing his name, legs barely holding you steady while he feasts like a man obsessed, like every sound you make is pushing him further into madness. his hips start grinding against the mattress beneath him without him even realizing it, chasing something through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, desperate and needy while his tongue keeps working you open.

you feel your orgasm rushing closer and closer, your gummy walls clenching tightly around his tongue as he pushes it deeper, and you grind against his mouth while the pleasure crashes through you in hot waves. he groans underneath you when it hits, the sound vibrating straight through your body as your essence spills into his mouth, and he swallows greedily, gulping it down like he’s afraid to waste even a single drop. if this is heaven, then god help him because he never wants to leave — buried between your legs, drunk on your sweetness, licking his lips after just to chase the last lingering taste of you.

and the craziest part is that he doesn’t stop. even after you come, even after your body trembles and tries to pull away, he keeps lapping at you again and again like he can’t get enough, tongue dragging slow circles that make you jolt from the oversensitivity until you finally have to tug his hair hard just to pull him back. somewhere beneath you, he’s still grinding against the mattress, grey sweatpants definitely have dark stains spreading across the fabric, while he pants against your thigh like someone who’s completely lost his mind.

you can’t believe that the same boy who once got shy handing you his hoodie, just ate you out like he hadn’t seen food in years. as time had frozen for him and suddenly started moving again all at once. believe it or not, he’s twenty-seven years old, and yeah, he might have missed a lot along the way… but somehow, waiting this long made the moment even better. maybe things like this really do happen when you least expect them.

then he kisses his way back up your body, slow and unhurried, and when his mouth finally reaches yours, you taste yourself on his lips, like sugar on his tongue, your body is so sweet. he kisses you again, savoring it, doesn’t want the flavor to disappear. the moment lingers long enough for something strange to happen inside your head. flashes of memory, comparisons you didn’t ask for.

jungkook, mingyu, yeonjun… men who had touched you before, on and off set. men who knew how to make you feel good. but san, especially like this, completely pussy drunk and dazed, is nothing like them. there’s something different in the way he looks at you, love and lust at the same time. your hands move, sliding over his chest, down his stomach, until your fingers hook into the waistband of his sweatpants and tug them lower.

you recover slowly from the climax and notice his state. the moment your eyes meet again, you feel something twist in your chest because you have never seen anyone look at you like that before. that alone almost makes you want to cry again. you don’t even know exactly what the feeling is: there are too many emotions tangled together, things you don’t have names for yet because you’ve never experienced them before. but somehow you’re experiencing them now.

san still looks starstruck, a little dazed, his skin flushed and his body hot like a man on fire. somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers jungkook pressing that condom into his hand earlier, but the thought fades almost immediately. fuck that. he waited too long for this moment, waited too long to have a girl with him, to prove to himself that he could love and be loved, that he wouldn’t die a virgin. and then you speak, still breathless but smiling softly at him, telling him that even though you’re amazed by what he just did down there, now it’s your turn.

"let me show you how good i can be… i’m nothing like those videos, please sannie…"

and he knows that. he knows you’re nothing like those videos, because he knows porn sells delusions to perverted gooners like him and countless others. he is so in love with you, he realizes it again right there, clear and undeniable. the way you’re looking at him with those glossy eyes, your lips swollen and slightly wet, your voice soft when you say his name… it’s enough to make his heart pound like crazy. part of him already wants to put a ring on your finger just for looking at him like that.

“doll,” he murmurs, his hands hovering before gently lacing his fingers with yours. your skin brushes his and you realize how hot he feels, almost burning under your touch. well… he really is one fine-looking man, and you will absolutely suck him some other time. he’s not the only one with a big appetite. “i’m all yours.”

no need to be told twice. you hook his pants down properly this time, pushing the fabric past his hips as you lean forward to kiss his chest, then lower to his stomach, taking your time inspecting and exploring his body. the position changes as he lies back while you move lower, until both his boxers and sweatpants are pushed away in one go. your hand wraps around him slowly, stroking him while your lips press a soft kiss to the leaking tip, tongue flicking out just enough to taste. you keep eye contact the entire time. breathy moans echo through the room, his lips parting as he whispers your name under his breath before squeezing his eyes shut from the pleasure. the thought that he’s actually going to be inside you tonight makes his head spin. it will be nothing like the stupid toy he used before.

you climb back up, straddling him, the tip brushing against your already wet and puffy folds. slowly and carefully, you begin lowering yourself down. and when you start taking him inside, your mind makes the comparison again. san reminds you a little of jungkook — but thicker, fuller… honestly perfect. you’ve taken plenty of men before, enough that your body knows how to adjust easily, but this feels different somehow. as you sink down on him, you’re doing this for him just as much as for yourself. and yet something about it feels strange. sex has always just been… work, something physical. but with san you suddenly realize the difference: before, you were fucking. with him, this might actually be lovemaking.

now that he’s beneath you with you fully seated on him, san looks absolutely feral again… and a little submissive too, letting you guide the pace and show him how it’s done. he doesn’t mind that you’re the more experienced one, not when the feeling of your velvety walls hugging him so tightly almost makes his brain shut down. it feels like you were made for him, like your body knows exactly how to hold him.

the wet sloshing sound of your cunt moving around his length fills the room as you start to move, and he swears he can feel the deepest parts of you gripping him. is this what it feels like to touch someone’s soul? the sensation is almost too much, and a helpless whimper slips from his mouth as his hands finally move, settling on your waist to steady you. though honestly… he thinks he’s the one who might need more support. because the heat building in his body is unbearable, burning hot, and he’s not sure how long he’ll actually last like this.

with your hands pressing down on san’s broad chest, his breath uneven, eyes wide in a way that made you want to chuckle at how adorable he is right now.

“relax for me,” your murmur, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “just watch.”

for a moment you stay still like that, straddling him, feeling the heat of his body beneath yours, adjusting to his size. grip tighten slightly on your hips, and he swallows, adam apple bopping, “you’re… actually going to–”

“mm,” humming softly, leaning forward to peck his lips. “i told you i would show you.”

his gaze flickers downward for a second before snapping back to your face, ears turning red, and then you finally begin to move.

pushing yourself up and down, you thrust his thick cock in and out of you while his fingers dig lightly into your flesh, helping guide the glide of your hips. every time you rise he slips halfway out, and every time you drop again your pussy swallows him whole, greedy and warm, your walls fluttering around his length like they don’t want to let him go. the sensation sends sparks straight up his spine, his cock already too sensitive from everything you did to it before and now you’re taking him raw like this, riding him like he has no chance of surviving.

you bite your lower lip as your own moans begin climbing higher, losing yourself in the rhythm of it, just as san loses himself in you. he tries to match the rocking of your hips with small thrusts of his own, clumsy at first but eager, the sound of skin slapping against skin growing louder with every movement. anticipation coils tight in his stomach, he slows you down with a firm grip on your hips so that he can look at you properly. his eyes wander helplessly: from your face twisted in pleasure, to the way your breasts bounce with each movement, then lower to where your bodies meet, watching the way you take him inside you.

"you feel so good, baby… so damn good, ahh~ you look so beautiful." his voice breaks halfway through, licking his lips as his body trembles under you, the sight alone nearly too much for him to handle. his fingers press harder into your hips, almost bruising as he steadies you while you grind and roll your hips again, snapping them forward in a way that makes him gasp. he’s completely obsessed with the way your body moves on top of him, the way your cunt grips him every time you sink down. “keep going like that… yeah, just like that, princess… use me as you wish.”

his praise spills out nonstop, voice low and wrecked as he stares at you like he’s hypnotized, whispering things under his breath that barely make sense anymore. you are too cockdrunk to process anything properly. isn’t he one extremely lucky bastard? he’s actually fucking a pornstar, and not just any pornstar in the world… it’s you.

you ride him faster, san’s hips start moving too once your weight settles on him properly, confidence growing quickly now that he understands the rhythm. he thrusts up into you in small, desperate movements, helping meet you halfway. a fast learner, what can he say?

you want to scream about how fucking good he feels inside you, the way he fits and fills you so perfectly… wait, filling? your thoughts stumble for a second because the feeling changes suddenly. heat spreads through him and his hips jerk under you, a broken sound leaving his throat before he even realizes what’s happening — he’s already coming.

eyes flutter shut as his head falls back against the pillow. his hands tighten around your waist as his body tenses, warmth spilling inside you in thick pulses while he groans helplessly beneath you. it’s messy, sudden, and more so completely unplanned. his first time losing control like that, and it hits him harder than he ever imagined.

but instead of stopping, the new sensation makes you gasp too. the way he throbs inside you, the way your body clenches around him, it sends another sharp wave of pleasure straight through you. your hips stutter but don’t stop, grinding down on him again as you chase that rising heat inside your own body.

“f-fuck, san– ” your voice cracks as your movements grow uneven, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. you weren’t expecting it, the way hitting that spot suddenly sends sparks shooting through you, but now that you’ve found it your body refuses to let go, chasing your own high.

san whimpers, still sensitive and shaking as he watches you ride it out on top of him, eyes half-lidded and completely dazed. his hands slide up your waist, afraid you might collapse, holding you while you tremble over him. and when your body finally tips over the edge, a broken sob leaves your lips as the pleasure crashes through you, tears slipping free while your hips slow against his. he can only stare up at you, breathless and overwhelmed, still can’t believe that just happened.

he doesn't want the distance between you anymore.

slowly, his large hands slide from your waist to your shoulders, guiding you down as he bottoms out for a bit with a soft, breathless grunt. he shifts his weight, rolling you onto your back against the tangled sheets. looming over you, his frame silhouetted by the dim light, looking at you as if you are the only thing in the world that holds any light, maybe because you are his angel.

"you're so beautiful," his voice is stripped of its usual gentleness. "i can't... i can't look away from you."

he leans down, his lips trailing hot, lingering kisses along your jawline before burying his face in the crook of your neck. he breathes you in, a shaky sigh escaping him. then, one of his hands finds yours, pinning them to the pillow above your head. the dominance is just him saying i have you, and i’m never letting go.

"look at me, angel." he commands softly, and when your eyes meet his, you see the man who is normally quiet and yielding now taking charge because he worships the ground you walk on. "i want to see your face when i’m inside you. no cameras and no acting. just you you and me, okay?"

as he enters you again, the pace is different now. it’s slow and intentional. he grinds his hips against yours with a firm pressure that makes your toes curl. every thrust is accompanied by a praise that vibrates against your skin.

"that's it, baby... take all of me," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the back of your hand where he has it pinned. "you're so perfect. the way you feel around me... it’s like you were made for this."

he begins to move faster, the softness breaking as his grip on your wrists tightens slightly as he hovers over you, his eyes never leaving yours. watching every flinch and gasp, every arch of your back with a look of adoration.

"i love you," the words falling from his lips like a prayer, a confession meant only for you to hear, a blessing perhaps. he repeats it, over and over, punctuating each deep, rhythmic push. "i love you, i love you so much. you're mine to kiss, hold and love."

the pleasure is different this time — it’s heavy and soul-aching. an intimacy that makes your heart feel too big for your chest. as you reach for that peak again, san doesn't let you drift away. he leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

"good girl... just like that. give it all to me," his body tensing as he nears his own limit again. "i’ve got you, yeah?"

when the final wave crashes over both of you, it’s a total eclipse of the senses. he collapses into you, his weight a comforting pressure, his face hidden in your hair as he gasps for air. keeping your hands pinned for a few seconds longer, before softening and pulling you into his chest, holding you so close you can feel the frantic, matching thrum of your hearts.

it’s grounding. the way he holds you and looks at you, eyes swimming with a devotion so pure it hurts to witness. he stays buried inside, and a sob finally breaks from your throat.

“san– please,” you gasp, eyes opening to gaze at him. “i need you… please.”

you want him to reach the parts of you that have been numb for years. you want him to touch your soul until the performative version of you is burned away entirely. but as he moves, the tears start falling in earnest. they track down your cheeks, soaking everything, and you find yourself unable to form a coherent sentence.

san freezes instantly, his hands shaking as he releases you to cup your face.

“hey, hey... baby, look at me,” he whispers, his voice tender. “did i hurt you? i’m sorry, i’m so sorry– i’ll stop, we can stop right now.”

he starts to pull back, his face pale with worry, but you let out a distressed sound, your legs hooking around his waist to lock him in place. you pull his hand back to your mouth, kissing his palm while the tears blur your vision.

“no, don’t... don’t stop,” you choke out, your voice small and trembling. “don’t leave. it’s just... it’s too much. i’ve never… san, nobody has ever looked at me like this. nobody has ever touched me like this” when you look up at him, your heart exposed and bleeding. “i’m not used to this. i keep thinking i’m going to wake up and you’ll realize i’m just... i’m not worth this. you’re too good for someone like me.”

san’s expression shatters. he doesn't pull away this time; he sinks back into you, even deeper than before, a slow, possessive slide that makes your eyes roll back.

“(name), don’t say that,” he murmurs against your lips, “i don’t care about what anyone else sees. i see you, so please… let me take care of you. let me show you how much i love you.”

he begins to move again, but it’s more intense now, driven by a need to soothe your doubts with his body. every thrust is a silent promise, every low groan of your name is a tether back to reality. he worships every inch of skin he can reach, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes of salt and heat.

“you’re mine,” his hands sliding under your back to arch you up, meeting him stroke for stroke. “every part of you… let me all the way in.”

you’re left breathless, stunned by the realization that this isn’t a scene and there’s no director to yell cut. it’s just san, and the way he’s loving you is so profound it leaves you lovesick, your heart racing with a dizzying, permanent kind of hunger for the man who finally made you feel whole.

you both lost all sense of time, couldn't say if it’s been two hours or five. you are lost in the rhythm of him, an endless cycle of heat and surrender that has left your mind blissfully blank. you don’t even know how many times your vision has gone white as san’s name was dragged out of your throat in a desperate plea. every time you thought you were empty, he found a way to fill you again — not just with his body, but with that terrifying kind of gut-wrenching devotion.

he’s come inside you so many times now that you feel heavy with him, stuffed to the brim. usually, your professional self would be calculating the cleanup, the detachment and they payment. but with san, you find yourself praying it stays. you want to keep the warmth of him inside you for as long as humanly possible, a secret mark of how thoroughly he has claimed you. wanting to keep every drop of him trapped and carry the weight of his love like a secret for as long as he’ll allow it.

another wave starts to build by the way his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your shoulder while his hands pin your wrists back again. it’s a dizzying mix of his natural gentleness and this new hunger you triggered.

“san, please... i can’t– i’m going to cum again,” you sob, your hips stuttering upward to meet his. your fingers are digging into the muscle of his forearms as he drives into you again, his pace bordering on frantic now.

“baby, look at me and don’t close your eyes.” the honesty in his voice is the reason to pull the trigger. “i love you, i love you so much.”

your body clenching around him so tightly it forces a strangled groan from his lungs. you’re drowning in the sensation of him, of being adored so completely it hurts. as your climax ripples through you, san let’s out a low cry, his own body stiffening as he hits his limit one last time, pouring everything he has left into you.

the silence that is broken only by the sound of two hearts trying to find a shared rhythm. he doesn't pull away. instead he collapses against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, wrapping his strong arms around you. he stays buried deep inside you, refusing to let the contact break. for a while, you just stay like this. his breath is warm against your skin, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, because he is so worried, and so intensely kind, it makes your chest ache.

“are you... are you okay?” he whispers, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "i... i didn't mean to go so long. i just couldn't stop. i've never felt... like that. i didn't hurt you, did i?"

you try to find your voice, but your throat is tight with a fresh wave of emotion. you just shake your head, playing with his hands, breathing in the scent of him. "no, san. it was... perfect. i've never been loved like that before."

he stays quiet for a moment, one hand tracing the curve of your hip. "i want to do this right," he says softly, "i know... i've read that you’re supposed to go to the bathroom, right? and i can get you water, or a towel, or... tell me what you need. i want to take care of you. just tell me what to do."

you feel a laugh bubble up in your chest, because this man, your man, is so worried about doing everything "by the book”. he’s so earnest and focused on your well-being that he’s willing to break this perfect, post-coital haze just to be sure he’s taking care of you right.

"shhh," you turn around slightly and press a finger to his lips to quiet his rambling heart. "i'll manage, sannie. we'll shower together in a little while. but right now... don't move."

you shift closer, tangling your legs with his, feeling the messy, warm reality of your shared intimacy between your thighs. for the first time in your life, you don't feel the urge to run or to clean the slate. you just want to exist here, naked and vulnerable in the arms of a man who sees the person behind the persona.

"just stay here," you whisper against his heartbeat, san sighs and tucks your head under his chin. "just stay with me."

his arms tighten around you, his kiss landing softly on the top of your head. “i’m not going anywhere.” because you were always the person he was waiting to find and spend his life with.

san watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, the weight of the moment settling over him like a prayer. he’d spent his life in the quiet corners of that café, a spectator to other people’s stories, never imagining he’d be the protagonist of one this intense.

how did i get here? he thinks back to the cafe, to the way he used to keep his head down, content to live his life in the margins. he was just a man who made coffee and stayed out of the way; he wasn't supposed to be the one holding a woman like you. a spectator to other people’s stories, never imagining he’d be the protagonist of one this intense.

out of everyone who knows her name, everyone who looks at her and sees a dream... she chose me. she chose the man who just wanted to know if she liked the cake they made.

you are the most beautiful, chaotic, and unexpected thing to ever break the false narrative. he’s aware of his own lack of experience, of how much bigger your world is than his, but you chose him. you looked past the fan he feared he was and saw a man worth loving. you gave him a chance to see the girl behind the camera, and in return, he showed you a side of yourself you’d forgotten existed.

he leans to press one more lingering kiss into the crown of your head, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

twenty-seven years waiting for his life to actually begin. he had spent so long wondering if he was missing something, if he was unlovable and not worth loving. but now he knows the answer. every lonely shift at the café, every shy hesitation, and every year spent alone had simply been leading him to you — it was worth the wait.

wooyoung, mingi, and yunho were sprawled across san’s living room, completely absorbed in the new game that had dropped a couple days ago. empty snack wrappers were scattered across the coffee table, mingi hunched forward on the couch while wooyoung kept yelling at the screen every time he missed a move.

“bro, that was your fault!” wooyoung groaned, shoving yunho’s shoulder rather exaggeratedly.

“how was that my fault?” yunho shot back, as he mashed the buttons on his controller. “you ran straight into the enemy!”

before wooyoung could argue back, the front door suddenly clicked open. the sound of the door closing followed, then the soft rustling of clothes and the unmistakable thud of someone slipping their shoes off by the entrance. three heads slowly turned toward san, then toward the hallway, then back to san.

“san…” wooyoung said slowly, eyes narrowing. “you locked the door, right?”

“yeah,” san didn’t even look up from his controller. “but my girlfriend probably finished work early.”

there was a full second of silence before they realized what he just said.

“girlfriend!?”

three voices exploded at the same time, loud enough to probably wake the neighbors. all of them snapped toward san with identical wide eyes and open mouths as someone had just announced the world was going to end tomorrow.

“yeah?”

“yeah?” wooyoung shot up from the couch like he’d been electrocuted. “what do you mean by yeah?”

“oh, didn’t i tell you?” glancing over at them like he was going to remind them of something they already knew. “our eighth month anniversary is next week.”

“no the fuck you did not!” wooyoung shouted, mouth wide open because his own best friend, the man who he has a matching tattoo, hid such a thing. “the hell do you mean eight months?! choi san, what the actual fuck?”

“eight months?” yunho looked equally horrified.

“eight months!” wooyoung yelled again, pointing aggressively at san like he was presenting evidence in court. “you’ve been dating someone for that long and you just… forgot to mention it?”

mingi let out a dramatic sigh from the couch. “and to think i bet money he’d die single…” he muttered, staring down at the floor while mentally calculating his losses. “damn it. that’s fifty bucks to seonghwa.”

“hey!” san immediately smacked him on the shoulder.

“but it’s true!” mingi complained, rubbing his arm. “you’ve been single since forever!”

yunho, meanwhile, was still processing this life-altering revelation. he leaned back in the armchair, absentmindedly flipping his lighter open and closed while squinting at san.

“but seriously, why didn’t you tell us?”

“i just… wanted to see if it would work out first,” san shrugged, suddenly looking a little sheepish. “she did too since she’s really busy, always traveling and working, so it’s kinda complicated sometimes, and–”

“hi sannie, and hey boys!” your voice cut through the room as you walked in, making all three of them instinctively turn to greet you. “oh, hey–” and then immediately froze.

you popped into the living room from behind the couch with bright energy, leaning over the backrest and wrapping your arms around san’s chest from behind. he leaned back into you while you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“did jungkook drive you here?” your boyfriend asked, turning his head slightly toward you.

“yeah, mingyu was with us too. he even bought me lunch, so don’t worry, i already ate.”

the room went completely silent; three brains malfunctioned at once. jungkook? mingyu? as in the jeon jungkook and kim mingyu? the ridiculously famous, internet-breaking, industry-dominating pornstars?

yunho’s lighter stopped mid-click, mingi’s sunglasses were about to fall from his nose, wooyoung looked like his soul had temporarily left his body, because the person casually hugging san right now…was you.

one of the most recognizable adult actresses on the planet. half their twitter feeds were clips of you, the internet, and they thirsted over you, and you were currently hugging their best friend and being affectionate… is that san’s gap sweater you are wearing?

you noticed the staring immediately. it wasn’t exactly new; people stared at you everywhere, but this one had a different weight to it. this was probably the first time your relationship with san had become… publicly known, and apparently in front of his closest friends.

mingi leaned toward yunho and whispered, “am i hallucinating?”

yunho whispered back, “i don’t think so.”

wooyoung suddenly grabbed mingi’s arm.

“pinch me.” mingi pinched him, very hard. “ow, that hurt.”

you smiled sweetly, clearly amused by the meltdown happening in front of you.

“i can give you autographs later if you want,” you said, stretching your arms above your head. “but right now i’m exhausted, so i’m gonna nap.” you leaned down to kiss san’s cheek again, then glancing at the three statues in the room. “please don’t be noisy, okay?”

and with that, you slipped away down the hallway toward the bedroom. the door closed softly, and silence filled the apartment. three heads slowly turned toward san, their expressions looked like they had just witnessed the eighth wonder of the world, then in perfect unison:

“you are dating (name) (last name)!!?”

san sighed, closing his eyes and lips tight, throwing his head back against the cushion.

“and that’s exactly why i didn’t want to tell you.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AKA CHOI SAN ♡

hi, if you made it all the way to this very end, thank you. but i also need you to know that this is officially my last ateez fanfic, and the end of @kisssan as well. i hope you enjoyed the story. i won't be logging back in to read comments, reply, or see likes. this account is going silent, and i'm not coming back. thank you for everything, take care and don't forget to show support for the authors who give their all to give you something to enjoy.

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