┈┈┈┈ 「 moodboards 」

Reader/Pixie

Jeon Jungkook - alternatively

Additional

┈┈┈┈ 「 music 」

❯❯❯❯ playlist 1 by @lovieku // playlist 2 by @crystaleah

┈┈┈┈ 「 musings 」

itf breakdown/makings

beta comments

all discourse/feedback/reviews

memorable asks:

thoughtful anon (srsly who are you)

analysis 1 // analysis 2 // analysis 3

when the angst hits 🚬

remembering

magic

hurt so good

note: i wish i could include every feedback but the list would be endless. just know that i love you all IMMENSELY and your engagement with this series is so precious to me. i reread my asks, reblogs, and comment sections whenever i wanna do away with writing 🥺🫂 your reviews are forever cherished ♡

┈┈┈┈ 「 moodboards 」

Reader/Pixie

Jeon Jungkook - alternatively

Additional

┈┈┈┈ 「 music 」

❯❯❯❯ playlist 1 // playlist 2 by @crystaleah

┈┈┈┈ 「 musings 」

itf breakdown/makings

beta comments

all discourse/feedback/reviews

memorable asks:

thoughtful anon (srsly who are you)

analysis 1 // analysis 2 // analysis 3

when the angst hits 🚬

remembering

magic

hurt so good

note: i wish i could include every feedback but the list would be endless. just know that i love you all IMMENSELY and your engagement with this series is so precious to me. i reread my asks, reblogs, and comment sections whenever i wanna do away with writing 🥺🫂 your reviews are forever cherished ♡

“You owe me!” Taehyung flails, feet stomping underneath the dining table like a tempered toddler.

Wedding season peaked in the fall — both a blessing and a curse. Hence, you only liked two things after being bombarded with back to back bookings: 1. a sweet treat 2. spending time with your friends. After weeks of tearful vows and hours of rigorous editing, seeing Taehyung, one of your closest friends since college, should be a blessing. 

Should be.

“When have we ever kept tally on owing shit? And for the last time, Tae,” you rub your temples, “I'm not helping you film. Can't you just cancel or reschedule with one of your directors?” 

In any other circumstance, you would have taken up this project.

You and Taehyung have a long-standing history starting as bright-eyed film students in the same cohort. You’d eventually discover his innate skills and very (heavy emphasis on the very) eccentric visions in film. He was different — highly cherished and praised by the university's faculty. You, on the other hand, put in extra hours only to barely skim the baseline.

You were just … good. Which isn’t a bad thing, but in a room full of endless potential and creativity, you felt like you didn’t belong. 

Taehyung never saw an issue in your style and passion, stereotypical or not.

Even though your classmates awarded him with the title “Most Likely to Win an Oscars,” he did quite the opposite. Everyone, including yourself, expected greatness from Kim Taehyung — whether it be through starting his own production company or winning a Sundance Film competition. 

But … his passions took a turn. 

Of all the spaces he could’ve wound up in, he landed himself in the adult film industry.

Yes. Porn.

When he broke the news on his career switch, you smiled and nodded, praying you didn’t display a single ounce of disdain. He’s been nothing but supportive in your journey and career. The least you can do is swallow and hide your judgment in favor of supporting your best friend.

Minus this particular tall ask. 

He frowns. “Please? I really need your help. You’ll do just fine, I promise.”

“I’m literally a wedding videographer.” You deadpan. 

“And you’d be perfect for the job!”

You shake your head vehemently, choosing to redirect all the attention to your untouched plate of chicken wings. They're cold now, time wasted on Taehyung's bizarre request.

“Come on.” He pleads. “I never ask you for these types of favors …”

"What about the time you asked me to stick a thermometer up your ass?"

"That was a medical emergency!"

You both continue listing crazy requests you’ve done for each other, inevitably leading to the same response: no, you didn’t want to film porn on his behalf. 

Boundaries existed for a reason and Taehyung knew when to throw in the towel. The last thing he'd want to do is make you uncomfortable.

Still, his shoulders drop, eyes hung low in disappointment. “Alright, I’ll let the director know I’ll have to miss out on this project.”

Bam, case-closed, you both can resume the night as intended.

Utensils scrape and clatter against the plates among other tables in the restaurant, but the silence and tension rings louder between you and your best friend. He purses his lips and looks away, unwilling to meet your eyes or say what’s weighing on his mind. 

You sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

"Sure, whatever." 'Sure? Whatever?' Now, that's teetering close to fighting words …

“Why this field? Our professors always loved your work—”

His bitter laugh cuts through your words. He leans against his chair and tips his head back.

“Spare me the judgment. I expected this from other people, not from my best friend.”

“I’m not judging—”

“You are.”

This was supposed to be a carefree night. 

No drama.

Instead, it seems to be leading right to the dreaded Talk™. Which, unfortunately, is anything but carefree.

“You’re right.” You concede, catching a flash of his frown. "Only because we've always tip-toed around this topic."

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. Tell me why you decided on this route.”

“Dude, you can’t even say ‘sex work’ or ‘porn industry’ without looking like a deer in headlights. What makes you think I wanna talk to you about it?” Taehyung rolls his eyes. 

You grimace. Has your discomfort always been this apparent?

Hold on. Pause. 

“But you want me to help film?” You press.

“Well, I was wrong for trying to bring my friend out of their shell. There’s more out there besides weddings.”

Silence.

“W-wait.” He stammers. “That’s not what I meant. You know I respect–”

You hold a hand up. 

"I know.” You say, keeping your voice as leveled as possible. That was a talk for another time.

“Just tell me why you chose this route, Tae. I only ask because I genuinely care and want to know.”

You do.

Both you and Taehyung know that's all you do … too much sometimes, but that's what he loves about you.

“It’s just,” He starts, visibly uncomfortable and awkward, “I’m burnt out from all these expectations. You said it yourself ... ‘All the professors loved your work.’ I can’t fuckin’ keep up.”

“Filming porn is easy." He continues. "There’s no second-guessing. And … it's different. Makes me feel special.” He sniffs and wipes at his nose. “I'm happy there.”

You grab his hand, squeezing gently while he looks at you with a guilt stricken expression.

“I'm sorry for being short with you.” He apologizes. "You're right too. We keep dodging this topic."

Your thumb traces the top of his hand, “I think I’m just a little biased about that—the porn industry.” You correct yourself. “For the record, I'll always support you.”

Taehyung scoots closer to your chair and wraps his arms around you.

“I really did mean it when I said you’d be perfect for the job.”

You laugh. “I don’t think they need a wedding videographer’s touch for that sort of production, but thanks.”

The night continues as intended: lighthearted and free. Waitresses and nearby patrons stare in fascination (or in annoyance … you can't tell nor do you care) whenever a laugh rings a little louder at your table. You always feel fuller after being around your best friend.

“Proud of ya,” he drunkenly confesses after one too many drinks. “Love seeing you in your element.” 

Funnily enough, Taehyung had also dabbled into the wedding industry. Let's just say his clients didn't appreciate his … visions. Not everyone was keen on a Carrie themed wedding announcement, okay?

That's the difference between you and Taehyung. Tried and true versus abstract and risky. There's much to learn from each other, which is why the friendship works.

And you do have a thing or two to learn from Taehyung. 

Hell, you’ve always played it safe – never tested boundaries. You went to school, got decent grades, and now you run your own business. Everything was fine. Too fine.

The world was your oyster; yet, you’ve never made a quest to seek out for more. Point is, you’re comfortable and that’s what makes you uncomfortable.

Substituting for one of Taehyung’s gigs wouldn’t mean you’re forever locked in to that field … right? Makes you wonder, should you just do it? 

“Fuck it,” you mumble to yourself. 

“Hm?” Taehyung looks up from his phone after placing an order for a cab.

“I’ll do it. I’ll help you.”

“Huh? What are you—”

“Filming. Just this once.” You say, more definite in your words.

“Wait, uh, are you serious? You don’t have to, really. I was kidding when I said you owed me.” Taehyung waves his hands frantically.

“No shit.” You grin. “We’re friends. There’s no such thing as owing each other favors. I want to help you because I do. It’s important to you; therefore, important to me.” Self-growth, you tell yourself, because you needed that too.

He stares at you and shakes his head. 

“Let’s talk again when we’re both sober, okay?”

“But …”

“Sober.” He says, final and definite.

One week later

“Not too late to back out.” Taehyung’s voice blares through your phone speaker. 

Actually, it was too late and highly unprofessional if you were to back out the night before. 

“Why would I do that?”

He says your name sternly, “You don’t have to do something you’re uncomfortable with.” 

“Then why would you even ask me to do it?” You stare at your phone, hands slowing as you rub your moisturizer into your skin. 

“Honestly? Didn’t think you’d actually agree …” 

Hard to believe since he damn near dropped on his knees begging for your help.

“Well … surprise.”

“Okay, thank you. Seriously. You really are doing me a huge favor.” He sighs. “Let me know if you need any pointers.”

“Think I should be okay.” You lie. One way or another, you'll get through this project. Similar to your wedding bookings, you'll go in blindly. And similar to your bookings, everything has an opportunity to end beautifully … or not.

Again, you remind yourself to keep an open mind.

“I’m still shocked about this whole ordeal.” He confesses. 

“How so?” 

“You've never seen someone else's genitalia in the flesh.” He snorts.

“I know what a penis and vagina looks like, Tae.” You roll your eyes. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Celibacy at your age was nothing groundbreaking. Remaining a virgin at twenty-nine, however, was not something you accounted for. Your parents' strict dating policy as an adolescent residing under their roof had lots to do with it, but you had full reigns of your romantic life in college. Thanks to your fixation with school, dating never happened; consequently, sex never happened either.

Though, you had many close "fuck it" moments and contemplated randomly hooking up with a stranger to say you've at least experienced sex. Again, never happened. Your first time should be with someone you trusted and cared for. Plus, physical attraction played a huge role and there wasn’t anyone you felt particularly drawn to like that.

At the end of the day, virginity was a social construct. Life goes on. Who cares whether you've been sexually active with another person? 

Hint: you do. And secretly, so does the rest of society.

“So what?”

“Kind of poetic if you think about it.”

What was so poetic about filming porn as a virgin?

“Whatever you say, Shakespeare.” You scoff.

“That's a compliment." You don't have to see him to know he's got a prideful smirk plastered on his face. "But alright, I won’t keep you up any longer. Big day ahead of you tomorrow. Text me if anything comes up.”

“Mmkay, will do. G'night.”

Your clock reads a quarter after eleven. Too late to be doing any editing, but your mind buzzes with one too many thoughts to allow for respite. 

Settling into bed, you crack open your laptop. Might as well be productive and work out your inquiries and schedule for the upcoming month.

Emails? Replied.

Bookings? Confirmed.

Stomach? In knots.

You sink deeper into your mattress. Maybe this was all a mistake, but it's too late to back out now. 

Laptop still perched on your stomach, you groan before immediately clicking into your private browser tab to type in the infamous website you frequented in your early college years when curiosity got the best of you and hormones ran high. 

The first thing you saw were the flashing ads. ‘WANNA JERK OFF? YOU WON’T LAST FIVE SECONDS.’ Next came the tits. And by god, there were lots. You’ve never seen anything more perfect and round than the ones on your screen. A hand leaves your keyboard to grip your covered breast. Hm, yeah, definitely smaller than the ones you see — nipple far from perky like theirs.

More random thumbnails of lewd images pop up as you soak in the page. Your heart races and palms sweat, exhilaration coursing through you as you type in the production company’s name: RkivedShots.

“This is all for educational purposes. Like studying the night before an exam. Yep.” You reason.

Laying against your headboard, your knees prop up to steady your laptop. Hands reaching for your wired earphones, you lower the volume on your speakers in the event you accidentally clicked on something. 

You didn't live with any roommates, but this felt private. In the off chance your neighbors had super hearing powers, you preferred keeping all potentially explicit sounds to yourself.

'Director Kim is different. I like his vision. Totally my style.' Taehyung recounted during a coffee run last week.

Within ten seconds of being on the company’s channel, you concluded one thing: RkivedShots was … odd.

You hover over a thumbnail appearing as a clam, later transforming to a vagina. The title of the video read: reborn as a mussel like aphrodite spawning in sea foam [cum as sea foam].

What the hell.

‘we found god in each other’s genitals’

‘possessive possession — don’t worry, we have a shaman on site’

‘if you were clay, i’d mold you into the prettiest vase [hardcore bdsm]’

Your eyes widen at all the titles, which progressively worsens with the video’s preview containing trippy transitions and themes. Oh, you feel sick.

The idea of filming porn was no easy feat as is, let alone editing afterwards. But if you can’t even stand looking at RkivedShots’ thumbnails, how were you going to survive being on set tomorrow?

Fuck, you have to persevere.

‘fucking the patriarchy out of a conservative [not clickbait]’

Seems normal … ish.

You click on the video out of curiosity.

Big mistake.

Let's paint the scene: Two men at the Oval Office. One man, rather on the thinner side, dressed in hipster clothing with a matcha latte in one hand and a book in another while he had, what you presume, an older politician bent over a desk. 

“SAY YOU LOVE FEMINISM OR ELSE I WON’T FUCK YOU.”

“OH FUCK, I LOVE FEMINISM!!! PLEASE DON'T STOP!” The politician begs and fucks himself back.

Book tossed onto the desk, the hipster pours his iced matcha latte onto the politician’s back and begins going to pound town while the national anthem played in the background.

Your jaw drops.

With a grimace and a quick 'ew,' you frantically search for the back button to free yourself of whatever was playing. Says a lot when you feel more relief on the company's main channel than you had on that one video.

“God, what was that?” You mumble, finger swiping at your mousepad to sift through other videos. Your eyes land on another video titled ‘grapefruit.’ Short and simple. You’re not chancing it though and would rather edit a twenty hour long footage than watch someone potentially fuck a grapefruit … or whatever Director Kim came up with.

Finally, you reach a video appearing "normal" based on the title and thumbnail alone, only showcasing a half naked man in boxer briefs, face cut from view. His tattooed arm rests on his torso, hand cupping his groin area. 

‘relax with me after a long day [JK 🐰]’

You swallow. 

Thirty minutes long. A simple masturbation video. In comparison to all the hour long videos on this channel, this felt like an anomaly. Heart hammering in your chest, you click on the thumbnail.

You made a mental note to call it a night if you see even one crazy transition. You're hopeful though — hopeful the video would do exactly as the title suggested.

To relax — ease your mind a little after being exposed to nothing but oddities this evening.

Maybe, this one will be normal. 

But this begged another question: was porn normal?

Your breath hitches once the video begins, soft piano music playing in the background. The man on screen stirs something in the depths of your stomach. The piercings, sharp jawline, and angled brows paired with his round eyes? Every part of his face was a contradiction. And yet, you were undeniably captivated by his beauty. 

Eyes talk and his spoke to you without words. 

Unlike the video’s thumbnail, he’s completely clothed. The production style mirrored a vlog, except there's the looming knowledge of what's yet to come. Probably him. No, undoubtedly him. 

“Hey.” He greets with a lopsided grin. You increase the volume on your earphones a little higher, eager to hear more of him. 

The video cuts to him cooking a meal, eating, watching television, and working out. Mundane life stuff. Every segment was less than three seconds long. Short-lived. That is, until the next clip cuts to him showering.

The all-glass shower and camera angled modestly leave viewers with wandering thoughts. Even with the steam blurring the shower glass, there's urgency in his movements — longing to rejoin the camera.

The sight of him emerging from the shower stall has you clenching your thighs together. Camera still propped at the same angle, you're only able to make out his upper half. Which, honestly, was more than enough for your mind to dip into darker territories. And fuck … his dripping wet hair and body does things to your poor heart … among other parts of your body. 

As he dries his hair, you catch his eyes. 

Again, no actual words get exchanged. He keeps you entranced.

He’s on a light brown couch now, appearances matching the video’s thumbnail. 

Fumbling with the camera, he props it on the table. Not even one second after he backed away, the camera falls face down. He chuckles, rich and full of life. You bite back your own giggle having related to his struggle plenty of times in the past. 

“Whoops, sorry—dropped ya' on accident.” He says as he moves the camera upright. Seated back, that's when you see it. 

The outline of his hard cock. 

How’d he get like that? You’re not sure.

What you’re sure of, though, is how your body reacts as he smirks. Given any other man you've encountered online with this exact demeanor, you'd immediately rule them as overly confident, borderline cocky — only deserving of being ignored. Yet, you stay for him.

He knows he's hot.

And maybe for that reason, he needs no formal transition or introduction to what he does next. Your eyes follow the hand trailing down his torso and past the waistband of his boxers. Still covered, he wraps his hand around his hard length. The outline of his closed fist moves slowly, tugging until he releases a shaky breath.

“Fuck—ngh,” he tosses his head back, moans coming out sporadically — the slight lift in his voice damn near mimicked a whine.

Tongue heavier in your mouth, you watch him pull the front of his boxers down to expose his cock. It slaps against his abdomen. Thick. Hard. Flushed. 

He’s so beautiful. It’s only natural every part of him matched his perfection. The vein running on the underside of his cock matched with the ones on his hand.

You really should click out. 

Really. 

You shouldn’t dip your hand down your front.

Shouldn’t cup your still-covered pussy only to feel your arousal has seeped through your panties. 

Shouldn’t press your middle finger down your covered slit.

Shouldn’t whimper when he pauses to spit into his hand only to go back to jerking his length, legs spreading wider.

“Wish you were here with me.”

You’re not sure who he was referring to. Certainly not you, but the admission was enough coercion to give into your needs. 

For a moment, you forget why you're even on this site. "Research" purposes. Right. Yeah … and you're in the exploratory phase now, searching aimlessly for some form of relief.

You deserved it.

He wants you to.

Why else would the video be titled that way? 

The handsome man on your screen seems to contribute to your reasoning, giving you one more reason, one last go ahead. His honey voice resounds in your ears. “Want you to play with yourself too. Can you do that for me?”

The softly spoken request sends a shock wave down your spine, and if you weren’t already so aroused you would be ashamed at how fast your body reacted.

Your brows pull together at the bare contact of your middle finger and clit. 

You moan as you rub your clit in small circles, relieved from the motion. The occasional wet sounds reach your ears when you move a little quicker to match his pace.

You’re determined to do so, especially when he keeps voicing his praises. “Good. So good. Can you keep up with me?”

The laptop's fan whirs on your stomach, heat keeping you warm. Your forearm knocks and shakes the laptop. Still, you had the perfect view of him.

Another shaky breath slips past your lips.

His hips lift from the couch, hand paying extra attention to the top half of his shaft. He knows what he likes. What gets him shuddering — what gets him wanting more.

A clear, translucent liquid builds at his slit the more he jerks himself off. Doesn't touch it though — no, not yet. Lets it build until it dribbles down the edge of his length on its own, and he lets out a particularly raspy moan at the sight.

"Fuck." You choke, arm slipping down lower. Your middle finger stops just at your entrance.

Penetration was not your thing, but tonight, you entertain the fantasy of him inside you. Middle finger teasing your entrance, you push and prod, imagining his tip kissing your entrance. Would he beg to enter inside of you, whine and groan the same way he does while playing alone with himself? Smear and mark his precum all over your entrance to claim you as his?

Truthfully, the concept of something entering in you felt better than the actual act. You've tried fingering yourself in the past — hurt and burned like hell. Could never get the position right. And honestly? Who cared knowing the clit was right there?

But the thought of the man on screen pushing his length inside — stuffing you, fucking you, filling you up good … god, you needed to feel something, anything, inside you. 

Arousal trailing down your slit and ass, you wedge your arm down even lower. Your finger pushes against your entrance with a little more purpose, the first knuckle slipping in with little resistance.

Eyes shut, you bite the inside of your cheeks. You don't linger inside for long as a result of the stinging sensation.

A sigh of relief tumbles out as your finger goes back to its happy place.

Again, tried and true.

“Wanna cum with you so badly.” He breathes, jaw going slack before he wraps his lips around the digits of his other free hand. You watch with anticipation, teeth biting down your bottom lip at the sight of his wet, glistening fingers tracing around his nipple. 

T-shirt tucked underneath your chin, you shudder from the cold air, but copy what the man does. Imagine it’s his lips enclosed over your hardened nipples, the cold metal piercing making contact against your skin. He’d look up at you, smile prettily like he has in the video, and worship your body as he likes.

Fuck. 

There’s a certain numbness you feel at the bottom of your stomach signaling your end. You tense, fingers moving faster over your clit. 

His once pushed-back wet bangs are now dried and wavy on his forehead. If not for all the sinful acts he’s doing to himself neck down, he’d look like someone you could see hanging out with and talking to — a friend. Let’s be real … how good of a friend can you be to someone you’re about to cum with? 

He's not faring any better. His impatient whines grow louder, bleary eyes fighting to stay open as he jerks himself off faster. Everything tells you he’s going to cum: the blush on his chest, the tightness in his balls, the freshly bitten lips. 

Oh, you want every bit of it. Want, no, need to see how he finishes and how he loses control of his body in his climax. 

But just at the last second, he pulls away. Cock resting flushed and firm against his stomach, he laughs. Breathless, akin to a mock. Your hand comes to a halt as well, clit twitching against your fingers. There's no gratification in cumming if the experience was stolen and watered down.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Still with me? Didn’t finish yet, right?”

A soft, yet frustrated whine leaves your lips. Technically, you didn't need him — could finish the job yourself. But you wanted this … wanted to end with him.

You wait patiently, body reeling in excitement as he wraps his hand around his length again. Your fingers remain stagnant, afraid one minor movement might lead to an unsatisfied orgasm.

“Want you to finish with me. Please?” His head falls back as he wanks himself again, speed ramping up. 

He does this multiple times. Gets himself all worked up. Teases himself—teases his viewer. Gets close. Stops. 

Rinse and repeat.

He edges himself near the point of punishment — excels at it like it’s his favorite sport.

And you follow after him every time because it feels good to be led like this. You’re so fucking wet, fingers coated with your slick. You're sure if you move from where you’re laying, there would be a damp spot on your bedsheets, a clear indicator of your arousal.

“You wanna cum with me so badly, huh?” He husks. “Been so good for me, yeah? Would be so nice to cum together, right baby? I’ll give you what you want.” 

His words earn another moan from you — and fuck, you don’t think you can last a minute longer. Quickly, your mouse hovers at the time bar again, eyes scanning for any indication of the most played segment. 

28:37. The video peaks right there — the finish line.

And you're deserving of every bit of this victory.

He wets his lips with his tongue and smiles. The glint of his lip piercings catches the light and then—

"Oh fuckfuckfuck, I'm gonna cum—"

You've been so good, so obedient. To hell with your goal of a timed orgasm to match his … you have to put yourself first. Toes curled, your body loses all control as you finish before him. 

It's enough, though. His whines, the stutter of his chest, the speed of his hand. And when his cum paints his abdomen and dribbles over his veiny fist, your hand flattens on your mound, four fingers rubbing vigorously to extend every second of your long-awaited orgasm. Back arching off your headboard, your body withers from the impact: gut-punching, velvety … practically soul-sucking.

You lay there shaking and sensitive from your earth-shattering orgasm for a couple seconds before pulling your hand out of your pants. It's then you realize how numb and achy your arm got from all the exertion. You raise your poor hand to your face, light catching and displaying a clear sheen of the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Before your mind could register what you had done, a breathy laugh cuts through the silence.

“Fuck. That was a good one.”

Whelp, there it is: post-nut clarity.

You’ve never ripped your earphones out and closed a browser faster than you have now. Shame heats up the back of your neck at the realization you had just beat off to a random stranger online. Sure, you’ve done so before in your early twenties, but you’ve grown since then (so you think). There were many alternatives to getting off without watching other people. 

You shake your head in embarrassment, forearm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Every part of your body feels weightless, tension no longer present in your muscles after finishing the way you did. As tempting as it was to just go to sleep, you know you’ll regret not cleaning up the mess between your legs and fingers in the morning. 

Another minute goes by before forcing yourself to look for a new pair of underwear and sleep shorts. The clean up and change in the bathroom is quick only because you can’t bear looking into the mirror. 

So afraid you’ll unearth and confront your true feelings of the time spent with the video: You liked it. Specifically, you liked how safe you felt behind the screen with that man. 

Sleep comes with little effort tonight … all thanks to a boy with eyes that spoke without words.

a/n: ty to my lovely betas @takeitawaykenny & @lovieku!! yall both saved my life with ur eagle eyes and big brains. this couldn’t have happened without your guys help and input 🥺 tytytytytyyyy

now.. gentle readers, thoughts/predictions? im editing ch1 atm, so any encouragement would be greatly appreciated ♡ i anticipate posting in a couple weeks. toodles!!

edit: no taglist for this series!

—

you’re no stranger to edging.

having been on both the receiving and giving end, you know how it all goes. it’s all about the build up and denial of pleasure — fun for the person doing the edging … torture for the other enduring. you’d agree until you met jungkook, an overzealous new camboy you met online after a couple of your subscribers begged you both to collab.

“look at yourself,” jungkook breathes into the shell of your ear, “come on, pretty.”

you pry your eyes open at the mirror in front of you and jungkook, making contact with the blinking red light of his camera.

“ah-ah, here,” he rubs on your clit a little faster and your vision blurs from the pleasure. your eyes drop to the mess between your legs: his fingers wet and shiny from your sex, your cream lathering the dildo you’re slowly fucking yourself with, and his other hand underneath your thigh to pry your legs apart. it’s been an hour into the live stream, both his and your subscribers sending multiple comments and donations to let you cum.

“kook,” you moan, knocking your head back on his shoulder. uncaring about the flood of comments coming in, you look at the mirror again and want to cry from the scene. the thing about edging is that you should feel tortured from the denial of pleasure … and yet, it’s jungkook’s fucked out expression, hard cock digging into your lower back, and heavy panting in your ear that has you questioning who is actually being punished.

“can i go faster? please?” you beg, not just for you but for him. jungkook drops his head to the crook of your neck and nods, kisses and sucks pretty little marks as your hand speeds up.

“yeah, that’s it,” he encourages. your forearm burns from the exertion, but you’re so focused on feeling good and pleasing jungkook, you ignore the fatigue in favor of hopefully reaching your desired high.

“i’m gonna cum, oh god,” you fuck the dildo harder into your pussy while his hand remain at the same slow pace, occasionally spreading your folds apart with his fingers. they trail down, fingers coat the residual slick left on the shaft of the toy. you almost cum from the visual of him licking his hands, but you’re always so good for him and hold on until he gives you the greenlight.

a familiar buzz rings through the heavy air and you feel the vibrations on your clit before you can utter a word. the comments in the live stream goes crazy, dings left and right, donations increase … you’re only focused on the numbing sensation blossoming at the pit of your stomach.

“oh fuckfuckfuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” you whine and arch against his chest. he chuckles, lips press little kisses at your sweaty hairline before increasing the speed on the vibrator.

“can i?” you ask with furrowed brows.

“you can,” jungkook huffs into your temple, “but i’m not gonna stop.” you don’t want him to, need that aching release so badly … been ready 6 times before. your hand moves faster, it’s precise how you angle the toy to hit up where you know will let you see stars. your legs shake first, stomach clench, and you let out a breathy whimper before crying out when your orgasm washes over you.

jungkook groans and ruts his cock against you. as promised, he doesn’t let up and neither do you. it’s fucking obscene how the buzz of the vibrator changes as the wetness pools around it. you’re squirting — all over jungkook’s lap, his bed, his floor.

liquid gold.

you pull out the dildo and drop it onto the ground.

“oh fuck, ‘atta girl,” jungkook praises and releases your thigh to squeeze your tit. your eyes shut from the overstimulation, between the notifications from the live stream and jungkook’s relentlessness on your pussy, it all blurs to static noise.

“k-kook,” you whimper when it starts to hurt, hand coming to curl around his wrist. he immediately stops when he sees tears brimming at your eyes, opting to toss the vibrator to the side and flipping you to your back on his mattress.

“did so good for me,” he whispers, kissing the corners of your eyes where some tears have fallen, “was it too much?”

you shake your head and giggle, “no, made me feel so good.” he always does. it’s easy to do your job when you enjoyed the person you’re doing it with. so easy as you slide his cock into your still-sensitive pussy, so easy as you wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks into you, so easy as you kiss him through his whines and orgasm.

—

you and jungkook are curled up in his bed laughing at the comments from the live stream. all you could see after the squirting session was jungkook’s back … nothing else.

696969lord donated $5: MAN CAN YOU ANGLE THE CAMERA BETTER? CANT SEE SHIT HERE

k00leftassch33k donated $100: … r we interrupting smth?

cumslut77777 donated $1: 10/10 edging, -5000/10 for camera work. u suck … anyways, i wanna see some tiddies hmu

“i told you to set up another camera from the nightstand,” you pout.

jungkook shrugs, nose crinkles from his smile, “guess we’ll just have to go live again, huh?”

“‘mkay, want me to peg?”

“you’re on.”

—

a/n: jk - posts ny greeting, me - well damn ✍🏼