Aidee

Yours to kiss and laugh with, yours to leave marks all over, yours to be absolutely destroyed by in the bedroom. It had been almost two months now since you had him properly. Two painful, sexless months. What was a woman supposed to do?

You tried not to resent the badge, telling yourself it isn’t its fault or the town’s or the emergencies that always seemed to happen just as he walked through the door, hat barely off his head before someone’s knocking again. Worst part was he forbade you from visiting him at the station, too scared you’d get hurt because of some or the other crook.

But sometimes, deep into the melancholic night, when his side of the bed was still cold, you remembered how it used to be.

You were barely more than kids when you got married. Too young, the older women whispered. Too reckless, the men at the bar said. But you had looked at Jay standing there in that simple suit—nervous, smiling too wide, hands shaking when he held yours—and you knew he was your Orpheus.

He used to laugh more back then too, a bright, easy laugh that filled rooms. He’d steal you away in the middle of the day just to walk by the creek. He’d tip his hat low and pretend to be some grand outlaw sweeping you off your feet. You’d cook together in your kitchen, bumping into each other on purpose, arguing over salt and laughing before the argument could even start.

If he rode out, you rode with him. If he fixed fences, you handed him nails. If you sat on the porch swing at sunset, his hand would find yours without looking, like it belonged there.

You were young, so painfully, beautifully young. And in love, in that uncomplicated way where nothing else mattered.

You were inseparable, the perfect example of love.

Love is anything but perfect. 

Now you sat on that same porch alone some evenings. The wood creaked the same, the sunsets were still gold, but the space beside you felt wider. Jay still kissed your forehead when he left in the mornings, still told you he’d be home soon, still called you “darling’” in that low voice that made your stomach flip.

But it’s different. He’s tired now. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes some days. When he came home, he’d collapse into a chair instead of your arms. You’d talk about supper, supplies, the weather—practical things, necessary things, safe things.

And you started to wonder. Did he still look at you the way he used to? Or did he see an obligation, a routine when he saw you now? 

You hated yourself for even thinking about it. But doubt is a quiet, persistent thing. It slipped in when the house was too quiet. When another week passed with only brief touches and half-finished conversations. You found yourself staring at your reflection sometimes, wondering if you’ve changed. Maybe it wasn't that he loved you less. Maybe it was that he was afraid.

Afraid to bring the weight of his job home. Afraid to let you see the things he saw. Afraid that if he let himself relax, even for a second, something would fall apart. You remember how young you both were—how fearless. How sure that love alone was enough to carry you through anything.

Now the love was still there. You felt it in the way he paused at the door and looked back at you, just for a second longer than necessary. In the way his hand lingered on your waist when he passed. In the way he softened when you said his name quietly at night.

But you still missed him.

Your Jay.

How cruel the world was to take him away from the softness.

“I keep telling you—” Your neighbour laughed as she hung up laundry, “—all you need is one magical garment to get your husband back.”

“I am not wearing that old thing.” You scoffed, handing her a wet cardigan, “What’s gonna happen anyway? He’ll see me in it and suddenly drop to his knees?” 

“Precisely.” She laughed, turning to you, placing her hands on her hips, “Just trust me this one time, and you’ll get your husband back this very night.” You rolled your eyes but your mind still drifted.

The white silk garter.

You hadn’t touched it in years. It had been tucked away carefully after your wedding night, folded with ridiculous tenderness as though it were made of spun glass instead of silk. You remember how young you’d been—how your hands trembled, how Jay’s did too, though he’d tried so hard to look confident. You remember the laughter more than anything. The way you both kept breaking into nervous grins like children pretending to be grown.

You cleared your throat and crossed your arms. “It’s old now.”

“So is your marriage, honey.” Your neighbor shot back, “And I’ve never given you bad advice to this day, have I?”

“What if I put it on and he doesn’t even notice?” You leaned closer, lowering your voice dramatically. 

“He’ll notice.” She insisted. “Men are simple creatures. Especially when silk is involved.”

“Is that so?” You laughed as you put the laundry basket down, “You really do get the wildest ideas when you’re not over at the bakery.” You said, inviting her over for a glass of water at your house. These were rare days that you got to hang out with her, on days she didn't open her bakery.

“Come on, show it to me at least!” She said, leaning back against your kitchen counter with her arms crossed. You snorted despite yourself, nonetheless inviting her up to your bedroom. Her eyes went wide as you opened your closet, pulling out the little piece from some forgotten corner.

“Oh. My. God.” She gasped, making you laugh.

“I keep forgetting how young you are.” You ran your fingers over the garter. 

White silk, slightly yellowed at the edges, delicate lace stitched along the top; and suddenly you’re twenty again—heart racing, cheeks flushed, believing that nothing in the world could ever wedge itself between you and the man who looked at you like you were the only thing that existed.

You sat on the edge of the bed, garter in your hands, and wondered if this was foolish—if a scrap of silk could compete with whatever weight he carried home in silence. 

“You’re considering it aren't you?” Your neighbour said slowly, lips curling.

“I’m considering burning it,” You retorted, though your ears were warm,  “If this doesn’t work, I’m blaming you for the rest of my natural life.”

“It’ll work.” She said confidently, grinning like she had won something.

“You are impossible.” You grinned.

But for the first time in weeks, something inside you felt less heavy, less afraid and more like that reckless, hopeful bride who once believed love could conquer anything.

Maybe tonight, you’d remind him of her.

_________________

Park Jongseong considered himself to be an alright man. 

Alright in the sense that he actually considered himself to be a fucked up piece of shit who couldn’t even spare a second for his treasure of a wife. Life had gotten so busy nowadays that he couldn't remember the last time he spun you around in the kitchen, held you in his arms and kissed you all over. 

Most nights, he came home late, right when the clock struck ten. You’d already be dead asleep on the bed, turned away from him, hair falling over your face to frame it in the most ethereal way ever. One day he came home to find you on the couch, apron still on and a cold cherry pie on the table; Jay wanted to be struck down by lightning right there and then. 

His wife.

His beautiful, amazing wife, who had stuck by his side even when he wasn't the sheriff he was now.

And this was how he treated you.

Jay paused outside the door, a habit he’d always had, standing there on the ‘welcome home’ mat for a second before stepping inside, as if shedding the outside world from his shoulders before fully crossing into his home. 

The house was quiet—lamps turned low, curtains drawn against the night, the air thick with the faint scent of…..lavender oil? Jay felt as if he were transported back to the night of his wedding, when your bedroom was all lavender, roses and some good fucking sex. 

His hat came off first and then a quiet exhale as he threw his boots off. 

“Darling?” He called, voice tired but still warm. 

“In here, Jay.” You answered, from somewhere in the living room. Jay stepped into the living room, unbuttoning one cuff absently. Something kept swelling in his chest, was it the amazing scent wafting through the house?

“You’re still up darling? I thought you’d—” 

And then he looked up.

And then the world stopped.

You had seen Jay angry. You had seen him determined, gentle, amused, even broken in the privacy of your arms after a particularly hard day. You had never seen him freeze like that, his hand frozen still mid-motion.

The fatigue vanished from his face so suddenly it almost startled you. His eyes, those sharp, steady eyes that intimidated half the town, widened in a way that made him look almost boyish. They narrowed with heat as he took you in, from the way the fabric clung to your breasts down to the way your hair came loose at some places.

“Hi honey.” You said sheepishly, toying with the fabric of your nightgown. 

You had stood by the mirror for a total of fifteen minutes, making adjustments to every inch of your body.  You’d pinned your hair up the way you used to in those early days, soft curls escaping on purpose. 

The gown itself was a simple, flowing thing in pale ivory, sheer enough in the right light to hint at the curves beneath without giving everything away. You remembered how his eyes had darkened when you'd worn it before, how his hands had roamed all over like he was tracing a map.

And beneath it all, known only to you, was that thin band of white silk. It was delicate, the lace edges soft against your skin, hugging your thigh just below the hem. You’d added a touch of perfume, the one he always said smelled like home and waited in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm shadows across the space.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You felt heat suddenly creep up your neck. What the actual fuck were you doing?

“You’re staring.” You managed softly. 

Your heart picked up pace as you ran your gaze over him in his uniform shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. His dark hair was tousled, and a day's stubble shadowed his jaw. You saw the movement of his throat, the tightening of his jaw as though he were grounding himself.

“Can a man not look at his wife now?” The way he said it made your heart stutter, as he closed the distance slowly, “You look…” He stopped, eyes tracing you as though committing every detail to memory. “I don’t even have the right word.”

Jay’s hands found your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt the immediate hardness pressing into your belly. “What's all this, sweetheart?”

“Nothing much.” You avoided his gaze, looking down at your fingers, “Just thought I should remind the sheriff he has a wife.” 

Your hand slid down slowly to palm his hard cock through his hands. It had him graining, his hips bucking forward seeking more of your glorious touch. You smirked at the massive tent in his pants, before leaning in to brush your lips against the shell of your ears.

“You were gone for so long. Might as well have fucked someone else in this town.” You whispered, feeling his grip on your waist tighten, “Who’s gonna resist this pretty body anyway?” 

You pulled back, still avoiding his gaze, but the bruising pressure of his calloused hands on your waist told you everything you needed to know. 

Jay’s hands came up slowly to your chin, his calendar index finger resting underneath it, and then tilting your head up. You had to hold yourself back from humping against his length when you saw his face, brows slightly raised, his tongue poking the inner walls of his cheek as if to ask ‘how dare you?’ 

“No answer, husband?” You slowly inserted his finger in your mouth, sucking on it and then pulling it free, “Well then I guess I have to—”

You barely had time to pull back before his mouth was on yours, hot and demanding. His tongue pushed past your lips to tangle with yours as he backed you up against the wall, pinning you there with his body. One of his hands slid up to fist in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss further.

“What was that sweetheart?” Jay grunted into the kiss, “Who’s gonna resist this pretty body?” His free hand slid down to grab your ass, squeezing hard as he ground his cock against you. You could feel it throbbing, begging to be let out and buried deep inside you. The thought made you whimper, your own arousal growing as he marked you with his mouth and hands.

“Well this pretty body,” He nipped at your bottom lip hard enough to sting, “is mine.” He pulled back just enough to stare down at you with dark, heated eyes. 

You tilted your head up, meeting his stare with a playful pout. “Why don’t you come claim it then hm?” Your fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the shirt, “You still haven't apologised by the way. For keeping me lonely all these days.”

“Oh trust me.” Jay’s chuckle was low and promising, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips through the thin fabric, “I’ll show you how sorry I am, darling.” He gave your ass a light squeeze as he kissed your neck, sucking a dark bruise onto your skin as he rocked against you.

His lips brushed your forehead, then your temple, before capturing your mouth in a deep kiss. It started slow and apologetic, but quickly turned hungry, his tongue sliding against yours as he backed you toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. He tasted faintly of bourbon, getting your senses drunk, though he hadn't touched you properly yet.

Jay scooped you up in his arms, muscles flexing against his shirt as he did. Your legs wrapped around his waist like a choreographed routine as he carried you down the hall. The bedroom door was already ajar and he kicked in shut behind him, the room bathed in soft moonlight. 

“Look so beautiful like this.” Jay muttered, before laying you down on the sheets with infinite care, your gown pooling it around you like a whisper. His eyes roamed over your body, drinking in the sight of you, before his hands traced the hem of your nightgown, pushing it up to expose your legs.

‘I’m the luckiest man in the world.’ He thought, as his eyes caught sight of the white fabric hugging your thigh. Jay wanted to tear that thing right off with his teeth, memories of your first night together flashing in his mind. 

“You really went all out, yeah darling?” Jay said, cupping your cheek in his hand, you nuzzled into it, “I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead, “I’m so sorry I left you all by yourself.” Then your temple, “Won’t ever do it again, alright?” And then your neck, all the way down to your chest.

With a reverent touch, Jay explored your body like a country he had forgotten he’d discovered, his hands mapping every dip and swell with a tenderness that belied the passion burning within him. You gasped and writhed beneath him, lost in a sea of sensation as he stoked the fires of your desire higher and higher.

“Jay…” You whined, “Want you soooo bad.” 

“I know, darling.” One large hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying possessively over the curve where your gown had ridden up, exposing your skin to the cool air. He traced lazy shapes there—swirling patterns, perhaps hearts or initials, you couldn't quite tell through the haze of contentment—with the pad of his thumb, the touch feather-light and soothing. 

“You remember that thing we used to do?” Jay said, his voice thick. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, until his breath ghosted over your panties. You were already wet, the anticipation building since you'd dressed for him, and he could tell. “That thing where you’d sit your pretty little ass down on my face?”

Jay gripped your thighs with the force of a thousand suns, yanking you towards him as he sat on his knees on the bed. The action sent a sharp shiver scores your flesh, of arousal and deep affection. You’d only done that thing once before, refusing to do it ever again in fear that you’d break his neck. But the ever loving man your husband was—death by your thighs sounded positively spectacular.

“You’re gonna sit on my face and I’m gonna show you how sorry I am, yeah?” Your breath hitched at the command, but you nodded, shifting back on the bed as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the broad expanse of his chest and his carved muscles.  

Jay laid down, propping his head on the pillows, and tugged at your hips. You straddled his face, the nightgown bunching around your waist, the garter still snug on your thigh. 

“Seong, you sure?” You asked, you breath coming hard, “I don’t want to—”

His hands gripped your ass and Jay pulled you down until your pussy pressed against his mouth through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Jay!” You whined high at the sudden movement, grasping at his hair to support yourself. Now you were reminded of the reason you married this man.

Jay’s tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of you, and you gasped, one hand bracing on the headboard. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them aside, exposing your slick folds. 

And then his mouth was on you, hot and insistent, his tongue lapping at your clit in broad, flat strokes. You moaned, rocking against him, the sensation overwhelming right from the start.

“Fuckkkk you taste exactly the same.” He murmured against your skin, “So damn sweet—feel like cherry pie darlin’.”

His tongue flattened and lapped at your dripping slit, dragging up from your entrance to your clit in one long stroke. The sensation hit you hard—wet heat sliding over your sensitive skin, making your hips buck involuntarily. Pleasure sparked through your core, sharp and insistent, your pussy clenching around nothing as you craved to be filled.

“Oh–oh Jay right there right there!” You cried, grinding down harder, thighs trembling as he sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue circling it with expert precision. He knew every inch of your pussy better than you did, and god did that make you want to marry him all over again. 

“Thaaat’s it baby.” His own arousal spiked at you flooded his mouth with your slickness, “Ride my face like you mean it, gotta show my pretty wife how much I missed her.” 

Jay was already rock hard, pre-cum leaking from his tip, obsessed with devouring your cunt before he claimed it. He was relentless, alternating between gentle licks and firm suction, slurp slurp slurp, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive inner thighs. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned in approval, the sound rumbling through you.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to build, coiling tight in your belly. You were sensitive tonight, your body primed from the neglect of the past weeks, and Jay knew exactly how to push you. His hands kneaded your ass, one finger dipping lower to tease your entrance, sliding in just enough to make you whimper. 

“Oh god—Jay I’m close.” But he already knew from the way your pussy was clenching like she was talking to him, “F-Feel so goooood…”

He hummed, not letting up, his tongue delving into you now, fucking you with it while his thumb rubbed your clit. The orgasm hit you like a wave against a sinking ship, your body shuddering as you cried out, pussy clenching around nothing. Jay kept licking, softer now but persistent, drawing out the aftershocks until they bordered on too much.

“Wait—ahh ah—Jay, too much!” You panted, trying to lift off of him, but his strong arms locked around your thighs, holding you in place.

“Not done apologizing yet, darling.” He said, his mouth latching back onto your clit.

 He sucked harder, his tongue flicking rapidly, the overstimulation was making your nerves sing with a mix of pleasure and ache. Tears pricked your eyes as another climax built, faster this time, your body betraying you under his skilled assault.

“So damn sensitive.” He muttered, “Haven’t trained her enough, have I?”

“Could have if you were ever home.” You mumbled low enough, but of course your sharp-eared husband heard you, now sucking your clit into his mouth like a starved man, rolling it between his lips. You cried out, the suction pulling a fresh gush of wetness from you, which he lapped up greedily.

You came again, harder, your thighs clamping around his head as you sobbed his name. Still, he didn't relent, his tongue tracing lazy patterns over your swollen folds, lapping up your release like he couldn't get enough.

“Please….Jay—I can’t…’s too much Jay!” You begged, your voice breaking, but there was a bratty edge to it, a challenge because part of you wanted to see how far he'd go.

He finally released you, his face glistening with your arousal as you collapsed beside him, chest heaving. Jay wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and something darker. 

“You’re really gonna make me work for it huh darling?” His laugh was dark, and he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, pinning you beneath his weight, “This your revenge or somethin?”

The nightgown rode up completely now, the garter the only thing left between you and total exposure. Jay's hands roamed your body, rough and possessive, cupping your breasts through the silk before shoving the gown up to your neck. He leaned down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch.

“Maybe it is.” You bit your lip, nodding defiantly, though your body was still buzzing from the overstimulation, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, sheriff.” 

You knew what it did to him when he heard you call him that. And you also knew what it got you.

“Brat.” He murmured against your skin, his hand sliding down to cup your pussy 

 You were soaked, sensitive from his earlier attentions, and his fingers slipped easily through your folds. He circled your clit once, twice, making you gasp, then pulled away just as the pleasure crested. “Brats don’t get to cum that easy, sweetheart.” 

“Jay please…” You whined, hips bucking up, but he held you down, his palm pressing flat against your mound. 

“Please what, beautiful?”  He slapped your pussy lightly, the sting sending a jolt straight to your core. You yelped, the sensation sharp and arousing, your clit throbbing under the impact.

“Fuck me.” You demanded, your voice laced with that bratty tone you knew drove him wild, “Please fuck me, sheriff. I’ll be a good girl, I swear.”

“Begging already are we?” He slapped your clit again, harder this time, and you moaned, your legs spreading wider instinctively, “You sound just as angelic as you did our first time, my dearest.” His words ignited something within you. Jay had always been a poet.

Your husband stripped off the rest of his clothes, his cock now free, thick and hard, the tip already leaking pre-cum. He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the head against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.

With one thrust, he buried himself inside you, streeetching your walls around his girth. You cried out, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. Pain lingered at the edges, a delicious sting that heightened the sensations, making every inch of him feel more intense, as he set a punishing rhythm.

Just right for a brat.

“Pussy’s made—hah—for me.”  The words sent a thrill through you, your arousal spiking, wetness squelching around him, “Fits me like a fuckin’ glove.”

“Oh—ohhh so biggg.” You moan loud, your heart pounding against its cage. You certainly forgot how big your husband was, and he was certainly hell bent on reminding you.

 He angled his thrusts, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every stroke, building you up fast. You felt the orgasm approaching, your pussy fluttering around him, but just as you teetered on the edge, he stopped, buried deep but completely still.

“Jayyyy.” You whined, trying to rock against him, but his weight pinned you down completely, “Don’t stop please.”

“What did I say baby?” His hand came down on your ass, the slap echoing in the room, your cheek blooming with head, “Brats don’t get to cum that easy.” 

He pulled out almost entirely, then thrust back in, repeating the motion while his hand alternated slaps on your ass. Left cheek, right cheek, each one harder, making your skin tingle and your pussy clench around him. “You like that don’t you, my dirty darling? Gettin' wetter with every damn smack.”

“Harder Jay.” You taunted, pushing him further.

Jay's eyes flashed, and he flipped you onto your stomach briefly, yanking your hips up so you were on your knees. He slapped your ass again, the impacts raining down until it burned, then he reached between your legs and slapped your pussy directly, the wet smack making you jolt forward with a cry. The sting was intense, your clit pulsing, but it only heightened the need coiling inside you.

“On your back.” He ordered, flipping you once more, “Need to see my pretty pussy.” 

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, as he drove back into you, the new angle letting him hit even deeper. His thrusts were brutal now, his cock pistoning in and out, the obscene sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room. You were close again, so so close, your walls gripping him like a vice.

“Jay—no!” He edged you again, slowing grinds just as you hovered on the brink.

“Beg for it baby.” He slapped your pussy once more, lighter this time, and then thrust particularly deep, “I’m afraid the sheriff will only let good girls get what they want.”

Tears of frustration welled in your eyes, the overstimulation from earlier making every sensation amplified. “Please, Jay…..need it so bad.” You were a pathetic, babbling mess beneath him, “I’ll be your good girl sheriff, I promise—ahh fuck!”

“That’s my girl.”  But he didn't let you tip over, pulling back to edge you a third time, his hand coming down on your ass as he fucked you slow and deliberate.

“Can’t take it Jay—fuck.” You whined, squirming in his hold, “Please let me cum on your cock please, I’ll do anything."

And there it was.

What a beautiful woman his wife was.

Satisfaction crossed his face as he reached down, skilled fingers hooking under the silk garter on your thigh. With an achingly gentle tug, he slid it off, the lace dragging against your skin and sending shivers up your spine. He held it up, the white silk gleaming in the moonlight, then brought one end to his mouth, biting down on it gently. The other end he pressed to your lips.

“Bite.” Jay commanded, and you did, the silk muffling your moans as he thrust back into you. 

Now in full missionary, your legs wrapped around his waist, he fucked you with long, powerful strokes, the garter stretched between your mouths like a intimate tether. Every time he bottomed out, the pull on the silk made you both groan, the fabric dampening with your shared breaths.

His pace quickened, hips snapping against yours with a violent force, his cock swelling inside you. The edging had you wound so tight that the first orgasm crashed over you almost immediately, your pussy spasming around him as you screamed into the garter. He didn't stop, pounding through it, the silk pulling taut as he leaned closer, his forehead against yours.

“Cum for me, my darling.” Jay moaned around the fabric, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit. The overstimulation hit full force, your body convulsing as a second climax ripped through you, harder than the first. You bit down on the garter, tasting the faint salt of his sweat mixed with the silk.

Jay followed soon after, his thrusts erratic as he buried himself deep, his cock pulsing as he filled you with hot spurts of cum. He released the garter from his mouth, tossing it aside, and collapsed onto you, both of you panting in the aftermath.

“Fucking hell.” Jay grunted, pulling out as slow as he could, cupping your cheek as he did. Your husband was a wildly dual natured man.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his breath steadying as the frenzy of passion ebbed away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of your shared exhaustion. Your body hummed with aftershocks, muscles loose and sated, the ache between your thighs a sweet reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed you.

“You alright, darling?” He collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his comforting hold, “Need anything? Water?” 

‘No just—” You sunk into him, head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, “—stay like this.”

Jay lifted a hand slowly, brushing a loose curl from your cheek. His fingers were rough and calloused, but his touch was ever so gentle.

“You’re really something, you know that?” He chuckled, “I don’t think you understand what you do to me, darling.” 

You tried to laugh it off, but your throat felt tight. “I was starting to think I didn’t do much at all anymore.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and his hand stilled against your face.

“Hey,” He said immediately, firm but soft, “Don’t” 

“I know it’s stupid but–”

“You think I stopped thinking about you?” Jay said, squeezing your hand, “I think about you every single day,” He said. “I think about getting home to you. I think about this house, about the porch, about you standing in the doorway.” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone. “I just…..stay away from you sometimes because I’m afraid.” 

Your brows knit. “Afraid of what?”

“Burdening you.” Jay sighed, “I don’t want this damn job to reach you, my dearest.”

Your heart clenched at his words. Oh your sweet, sweet husband. Still that naive boy you married all those years ago.

“You think I married you for easy days?” You whispered, running your thumb over his knuckles. His lips twitched faintly.

“No,” He laughed. “You married me when I was just a fool with a borrowed suit.”

“And I’d do it again,” You said without hesitation, “Just promise me you’ll let me come to the station sometimes. It gets boring here.” 

Jay considered it for a while, the moonlight falling into the room illuminating your face so perfectly. 

“Only if you promise to stay safe.” He said, to which you nodded frantically, making him chuckle, “Although I don’t think I’ll get any work done with your pretty ass hanging around.” 

“Good.” You giggled, “The town should know their sheriff has the ability to smile.”

“Only for you, darling.” 

_______________________

“One of those chocolate madeleines please.” You slid two notes across the counter, “And I’ll take a cream puff as well.” 

Behind the display case, your friend smiled sweetly at you. Flour dusted her cheek, and a streak of chocolate smudged near her wrist where she’d clearly tasted something mid-batch. 

“Just those?” She asked lightly, tongs hovering over the tray.

“Hmm.” You hummed, watching her carefully take the goodies out and package it, “It's for my husband.” 

“I figured.” She laughed, "Everything you bake goes into that man’s stomach. Tell him to save some for us too!” She leaned forward, “I was right about that garter, and I’m right about this.”

“First of all, someone's got to remind that man to eat.” You said, leaning your elbows on the counter, "Second of all…” You paused before smiling, “yeah you were right. Thank you honey.”

“Oh, I’m sure the whole town appreciates your dedication to the sheriff’s well-being.” She snorted softly.

You narrowed your eyes at her teasing tone, sticking a tongue out playfully, watching her fingers as she tied the ribbon neatly around the small brown box. The bakery smelled of melted chocolate and warm sugar, sunlight streaming through the front windows and catching the dust in the air. 

You had just come from your sister’s bar across the street, after listening to her troubles about some or other cowboy who had been hanging around the bar. ‘Troubles’, you laughed at the thought, more like young love.

“You know,” She slid the box toward you,  lowering her voice almost conspiratorially, “I tried something new today.”

“Should I be worried?” You arched a brow. You knew how much she loved to experiment, which often ended up in fire and smoke. 

“It’s harmless,” She insisted. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

She reached beneath the counter and lifted a single cupcake onto a small porcelain plate. Pale frosting swirled high on top, a faint dusting of cinnamon and something darker speckled across it.

“And pray tell what is that?” You said, peering suspiciously at the poor cupcake.

“An experiment.” She said proudly. “Something that will…..have the same effect as that garter.”

You stared at the desert in front of you, and then flicked your gaze to her, scoffing. “You made a love potion?” 

“It’s really subtle, I promise.” She grinned, “Plus I didn't have enough ingredients to make it the usual strength.”

You hesitated, eyeing the cupcake again. It looked innocent enough, almost too innocent. But the thought of walking into that sun-beaten station with something playful—something just for the two of you—made your heart flutter.

“Come on.” She said smoothly, “It doesn't hurt to have a little fun.”

“And you swear it’s not that strong?” Your friend nodded her head frantically, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders, “Alright then.”

“Yay!” She laughed, then carefully lifted the cupcake and placed it in a small white box separate from the others. “On the house,” she said.

“Absolutely not—”

“Consider it payment for that advice you gave me.” She said, “And also for making your husband my guinea pig.” 

You laughed, and picked up your boxes, shooting her a wink before bidding her goodbye and stepping back out into the afternoon sun.

You stepped outside into the blaze of the desert afternoon, the heat wrapping around you like a living thing. The sky stretched endlessly blue overhead, the sun merciless and bright, pressing against your shoulders. The ground radiated warmth through the soles of your sandals as you walked.

Your knee-length dress, a soft cotton fitted at the waist and buttoned down the front, fluttered lightly around your legs as a dry breeze swept through. The skirt swayed, brushing against your calves as you walked, the scent of cocoa drifting faintly from the boxes in your hands.

You walked toward the sheriff’s station, just a block away, pulse picking up the closer you got. You told yourself it was just the heat.

In reality, it was the thought of his expression when you would walk in. The way his tired eyes would soften, the way he’d lean back in his chair, hat tipped aside, sleeves rolled up to reveal those beautiful forearms, the way he’d spread his legs just right, inviting you in. 

God you wanted your husband so bad.

A bead of sweat trailed down your spine as you climbed the station steps, the wooden boards warm beneath your sandals. You paused at the door, taking a slow breath, adjusting the boxes so they wouldn’t tilt.

The desert sun blazed behind you, casting your shadow long across the threshold. Then you reached for the handle and stepped inside, the colder air of the building meeting your skin. The station smelled faintly of paper, dust and sun-warmed leather. Your sandals clicked softly against the wooden floor as you stepped fully inside, hearing the loud buzz of conversation soften a bit.

Two officers near the front desk looked up first, then another from behind a stack of reports. You offered them a warm, polite smile. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Ma’am.” One of them said quickly, nearly knocking over his inkwell in the process. You had invited most of them to dinner at least once, fed them and listened to their stories.But had never once seen you here.

You felt their eyes linger, curiosity sweeping through you moved down the short hallway with steady steps, hips swaying slightly. Heat still clung to your skin from outside, leaving a faint flush along your collarbones, the thin ribbon at your waist accentuating the gentle curve of you. 

At the end of the hallway sat his office, the door half open. You didn't bother to knock, just pushing it wider and stepping inside, closing it shut behind you. 

Jay sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, oh god those forearms. His hat rested on the corner of the desk and a stack of papers lay scattered before him. His head was bent, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Afternoon, sheriff.” You said lightly, walking up to his desk like a mischievous child.

Jay looked up, and for a split second, all his senses crashed. His chair creaked faintly as he leaned back, eyes dragging slowly from your face down to your legs, and then back, resting briefly on the boxes.

“Well if it isn't the biggest criminal in town.” He said, voice shifting lower, legs already shifting apart, “You, ma’am are guilty of stealing my heart.” 

You set the boxes carefully on the edge of his desk and took a step closer, resting your hands lightly on the wood. Jay leaned back further in his chair, boots planted wide, hands resting casually on the armrests. But there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at you.

“Do I have the right to remain silent, sheriff?” You walked around the desk slowly, your skin feeling warm. You could feel his eyes tracking every step, “Do I have the right to do this?”

And before Jay’s mind could process anything, you lowered yourself onto his lap, settling there quite comfortably. 

“Careful darling.” His hands came up fast, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other against your back as he pulled you firmly against him, “You’re really testing the law here.”

Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt, forehead brushing with his, the solid muscle of his thigh pressing up against the heat building between your legs. The office was quiet, the door firmly shut behind you, sealing out the rest of the station's bustle.

 You could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the paperwork scattered across his desk, but all your focus was on the way his body tensed beneath you, his breath hitching as you shifted closer.

“And what’s my sentence, sheriff?” You asked.

“Hmm, let me think.” Jay said, voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest into yours, “I suppose, life” One hand went up to stroke your cheek, “with me of course.” 

You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips against his ear. “How do you expect me to change with such a tempting sentence?”

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the crisp fabric of his shirt, the badge pinned there cool under your palm. You rocked your hips subtly, grinding against his thigh, and felt him harden instantly beneath you.

Jay's eyes darkened, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. “You’re going to be the death of me.” But he didn't push you away, pulling you closer instead, his other hand squeezing your ass through your skirt.

“I got you something.” You said gently, reaching behind for the boxes, opening the smaller one first, “A cupcake.”

“Are you attempting to bribe an officer, young lady?” He said, gaze dropping to the neckline of your dress, the curve of your shoulders, then back up to your eyes. 

“A bribe you say?” You laughed, pulling out the small cupcake topped with thick, white cream. “Open up.” 

His eyes didn’t drop to the pastry, staying on you. He leaned forward, taking a bite. The cream smeared slightly on his lower lip as he chewed, his tongue darting out to catch it. You watched, heat pooling in your core, as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“Mmm caramel?” He said, licking his lips, lord give you strength, “What’s the occasion?”

“Just wanted to treat my husband.” You scooped a bit of the remaining cream onto your finger, holding it out to him. 

He didn't hesitate, capturing your finger between his lips, his tongue swirling around it slowly, sucking the cream off with deliberate strokes. The wet heat of his mouth made your pussy clench, imagining that gorgeous tongue elsewhere.

Jay's eyes locked on yours as he licked every trace, his suction firm, teeth grazing your skin lightly. “Tastes even better off you.” He released your fingers with a pop.

You brought your finger to your own mouth, sucking it clean, tasting the faint sweetness mixed with the salt of his saliva. You ground down harder on his thigh, the friction against your panties making you wetter, your skirt riding up slightly.

He groaned, his cock straining against his pants now, the outline visible as you shifted. Whatever was in that cupcake was working fast; you could feel the heat radiating from him, his grip tightening. 

“Fuck….darling, what are you doing to me? I feel weird.” You smirked, popping the rest of the cupcake into your mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing. 

“I’m not doing anything.” You hummed, your hands working at his belt, but he caught your wrists, shaking his head.

“Baby not here.” But his body betrayed him, hips bucking up slightly, pressing his thigh firmer against your aching pussy, The officers–”

“Just one Jay.” You released a soft whine, rocking faster, the seam of his pants rubbing your clit through the thin fabric, “Please?” Your breasts brushed his chest with each movement, nipples hardening under your blouse.

Jay's breath came in short bursts, his face flushing as the aphrodisiac surged through him. His cock throbbed visibly, begging for attention, but you ignored it, focusing on your own pleasure. You rode his thigh relentlessly, the pressure building, your juices soaking through your panties onto his uniform.

“Shit.” He hissed, one hand sliding under your skirt to cup your ass, urging you on. “You’re gonna make me lose my damn mind.” His other hand fumbled with his shirt, to unbutton it, but he stopped himself, glancing at the door.

“Let me make you feel good, sheriff.” You purred, leaning in to nip at his jaw. Your hips circled, grinding your swollen clit against him, chasing the edge but not quite tipping over. He was rock hard now, the aphrodisiac turning his arousal into something primal, his eyes glazed with need.

Just as you felt the first sparks of your orgasm flickering, a sharp knock echoed through the office. Both of you froze, your heart pounding.

“Sheriff? You in there?” A voice called from the other side—his fellow officer, sounding urgent.

“Fuck.” Jay cursed underneath his breath He lifted you off his lap in one swift motion, his strength making it effortless despite the haze of lust. “Under the desk. Now.”

You didn't argue, sliding off and dropping to your knees, crawling under the large wooden desk, his rough voice only increasing your arousal.

 It was cramped, the space just big enough for you to tuck in, your face level with his crotch. The door creaked open as Jay adjusted himself, trying to hide the massive bulge.

“Come in.” Jay said, his voice strained but steady. He scooted his chair forward, blocking you from view, his boots framing your hiding spot.

You heard someone step inside, the door clicking shut behind him. “Sorry to bother you, boss. Got an update on that theft case from last night. Looks like it was kids, but we found some prints that don't match.”

Jay cleared his throat, his hand dropping under the desk to grip the armrest near you. “Tell me more.” But his focus shattered the moment your fingers tugged at his belt again. He shot you a warning glance downward, but you ignored it, unbuckling him quietly.

The zipper rasped softly as you pulled it down, fishing his cock out through the opening, thick and veined, the head flushed dark red and leaking pre-cum. The aphrodisiac had him impossibly hard, pulsing in your hand, hot as a brand. You wrapped your fingers around the base, stroking once, and Jay's thigh tensed beside you.

The officer droned on, oblivious. “We dusted the safe—got a thumbprint. Running it through the system now, but I think it's that punk from the diner. You know, the one with the tattoos?'

“Mm-hmm.” Jay managed, his voice tight. Why was your mouth so fucking hot?”

You leaned in, tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum. His cock jerked, and he shifted in his chair, one hand coming down to thread through your hair, not pushing but holding on for dear life.

You took him into your mouth slowly, lips stretching around his girth, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you slid down. Inch by delicious inch, you swallowed him, the musky scent of his arousal filling your senses. He was so thick, filling your mouth completely, the vein along the side throbbing against your tongue.

Jay's free hand gripped the edge of the desk above, knuckles white. “What….what else? Any witnesses?” His words came out clipped, breath hitching as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked particularly hard.

The officer paced a bit, papers rustling. “Some lady saw a truck leaving around midnight—a blue pickup, rusted fender. Matches that punk. We should bring him in for questioning.” 

You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate his length. Saliva coated him, dripping down to your hand as you pumped what you couldn't fit. 

The wet sounds were obscene, but muffled under the desk, drowned out by the officer’s voice. Jay's hips twitched involuntarily, fucking shallowly into your mouth, and you hummed around him, the vibration making him stifle a groan.

“Yeah, sound solid." Jay replied, his voice gravelly. “Pull him in first thing tomorrow.”

His fingers tightened in your hair, guiding you subtly, urging you faster. All his senses zeroed in on you—the slick heat of your mouth enveloping him, your tongue swirling around the head each time you pulled back, teasing the sensitive frenulum.

You could feel how close he was already, the aphrodisiac amplifying everything, his balls drawing tight against your chin as you deepthroated him. Your own pussy throbbed, neglected but aching from the earlier thigh-riding, juices trickling down your thighs. 

You slipped a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through your soaked panties, but focused on him, sucking harder, lips sealed tight.

The officer chuckled. “You okay, boss? Sound a bit off. Late night?”

Jay's laugh was forced and strained. “Just……paperwork. Keep going—what about the evidence?”

As the officer launched into details about logging the prints and securing the scene, you ramped up your pace, head moving furiously now, mouth a wet, tight vice around his beautiful cock. 

You gagged softly once, twice, but pushed through, tears pricking your eyes from the effort. His pre-cum leaked steadily, coating your tongue, and you swallowed around him, milking him.

Jay's boot nudged your knee, a silent plea—stop. Or don't stop?

But his hand in your hair pulled you closer; every nerve in his body screamed from your mouth: the suction pulling at his shaft, your teeth grazing lightly, the way your throat constricted around the head. The office faded; the officer’s words blurred into white noise. All that existed was the hot, slick gliiide of your lips, the obscene slurp you made when you twisted your head.

“We need to cross-reference with the database from the last break-in.” The officer continued, leaning against the desk. “Might be connected. You think?”

“Absolutely.” Jay grunted, his abs clenching under his shirt. 

You felt his cock swell, the telltale pulse starting at the base. You sucked harder, one hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently, feeling them tighten further.

The officer paused. “You sure you're alright?”

“Fine.” Jay bit out, his voice breaking on the edge. “Just... hot in here. Tell me about the truck—any plates?”

You knew he was seconds away. Your mouth worked relentlessly, tongue lashing the underside, saliva dripping onto the floor between his boots. His thighs quivered, the muscles jumping under your touch.

“No plates visible, but we'll check traffic cams.” He said, wrapping up. “You want me to handle the warrant?”

Jay's hand fisted in your hair, hips jerking forward as he came, hot ropes of cum flooding your mouth. You swallowed greedily, not spilling a drop, your throat working around him as he pulsed, groan muffled into a cough. “Yeah—do that. Good work.”

The officer straightened. “Thanks, boss. Get some rest—you look beat.” The door opened and closed, footsteps fading.

Jay slumped in his chair, cock still twitching in your mouth as you licked him clean, savoring the last spurts. He pulled you up gently, zipping himself with shaking hands, eyes wild with post-orgasm haze and lingering aphrodisiac fire.

“You little minx.” He panted, hauling you onto his lap again. His cock, still half-hard, pressed against your thigh. “What was in that cupcake?”

“That’s a secret I’m afraid.” You grinned, kissing him deeply, letting him taste himself on your tongue, “Round two sheriff?”

Jay’s hands roamed under your skirt, finding your drenched panties. He rocked you against his thigh again, the teasing reversed now, his fingers circling your clit as his payback began, the aphrodisiac still burning in his veins.

“I hope you don’t have anywhere to be today, darling.” 

______________________

“You two are actually disgusting.” You sister scrunched her nose adorably as she took another swig of her beer

She was sprawled comfortably at the dining table, boots hooked around one of the chair legs, lazily tipping the bottle to her lips while she watched the two of you in the open kitchen like it was her evening entertainment.

Jay didn’t even try to look ashamed. You were standing between him and the counter, supposedly cutting slices of pecan pie. Supposedly.

In reality, his hand had found your waist about three minutes ago and hadn’t left, drawing shapes on your clothed skin and subtly kissing your neck, your back pressed to his chest.

“We’re married,” You pointed out sweetly.

“That doesn’t mean I need to witness it,” She replied flatly. 

“What do you think sweetheart?” Jay leaned down slightly, his voice dropping just enough for you to feel it more than hear it. “Should we kick her out?”

You elbowed him lightly. “You invited her.”

He grinned. “Not to sit in my lap.”

“I can hear you.” Your sister gagged from the table.

“Good.” You turned, pie server in hand.

The kitchen smelled warm and sweet, sugar and toasted pecans filling the air. The last light of evening filtered in through the window, casting everything in a golden glow. Jay stood close behind you, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed from the heat. He looked relaxed in a way he only did at home, his thumb tracing an absent pattern at your hip. You tried very hard not to lean back into him.

“Am I getting food anytime soon?” Your sister asked, “Or are you two going to keep being disgusting.”

Jay finally released you long enough for you to carry the pie to the table. He followed with three plates, entirely unbothered by her dramatics.

“If we’re disgusting,” He said mildly as he set the plates down, “you’re free to leave, sweetheart.”

“I was here first, Park.” She pointed her bottle at him, although accepting the plate gratefully, eyes already wide at the sight of your pie.

“You live across the street, sweetheart.” You reminded her.

“And yet somehow I’m still the third wheel in my own sister’s house.”

You sat down beside Jay, knees brushing his under the table. He casually draped his arm along the back of your chair like it belonged there…..which it did.

You slid a generous slice of pie onto your sister’s plate. “Eat up. It’ll distract you from your loneliness.”

“I'm sorry what.” She narrowed her eyes, “I am not lonely.”

“Oh?” You said lightly. “So you weren't staring at those cowboys riding past the bar yesterday with your mouth wide open?” Jay coughed into his fist, very badly disguising a laugh.

“I was not.” Your sister’s mouth formed into a pout, the familiar tactics she employed to get out of being scolded by you and Jay.

Jay leaned back in his chair, looking between the two of you like he was watching a particularly entertaining courtroom argument. “Which cowboys?” He asked casually.

“Nobody!” Your sister defended herself, pointing a fork at you, “Your wife is insane, don’t listen to her.”

“Hey now.” You laughed, leaning your face on your palm, “I’m just saying.” 

“Hopefully it's not that bastard Sunghoon. Almost caught him today but he slipped away.” Jay sighed heavily and took a bite, “Last time he was in town I had to break up two fights and confiscate a stolen saddle.”

You grinned at your sister—she was never that great at keeping secrets and boy was this a big one. “Hear that? The sheriff disapproves.”

“I don’t disapprove,” Jay corrected calmly. “I just prefer when citizens don’t start saloon brawls every other week.”

“He did not start that fight,” Your sister snapped. Jay gave her a look, as if to ask how she knew and she quickly cleared her throat, “I was out that day and I saw what happened.”

“You sound very defensive for someone who isn’t staring.” You chuckled, titling your head at her. 

She groaned. “You two are insufferable.”

“We’re just saying he’s trouble, sweetheart.” Jay smirked.

“You’re trouble,” She shot back.

“That’s different.” You and Jay said at the same time.

She blinked at the synchronized response and then shook her head in disbelief. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re like….a unit. It’s disturbing.” She crossed her arms and huffed, “And quit acting like I’m gonna run off with someone.”

“You wouldn't survive five miles into the desert.” You and Jay snorted, as he squeezed your shoulder lightly, “You’ll find someone soon enough sweetie.” You cooed at her, “Someone to soothe you and all that lovey stuff.”

“I don’t need soothing.”

“You need supervision.” Jay muttered.

“Honestly,” She said, taking a dramatic swig of her beer, “maybe you two should just have kids already.”

You loved your younger sister of course. But you had to admit she had a talent for saying stuff that could shut people up.

“What?” You blinked, feeling heat rise to your neck.

“So you’ll stop hovering over me like I’m fifteen.” She scoffed, glancing over at Jay who had his fork paused halfway to his mouth, “You guys baby me too much.” She continued, gesturing wildly. “You lecture me about my life and you monitor my bar. It’s exhausting.”

“We do not monitor your bar,” You protested.

Jay cleared his throat. “I occasionally ensure it remains… orderly.”

“Exactly!” She threw her hands up with a crude laugh. “If you had children, you’d be too busy to interfere in my life.” There was a brief silence.

You laughed first. “Oh yes, because raising children is famously relaxing.”

She pointed at you. “You’d be great at it.” The words were casual—offhand, something that one said every now and then. 

But the way his blood rushed to his dick made Jay want to go outside and kick a tree. 

There was a subtle shift in his posture; his knee pressed a fraction closer against yours under the table, his heartbeat, steady and calm just seconds ago—seemed to pick up when you glanced at him.

“You think we’d make good parents?” You asked lightly, though your pulse had quickened.

Your sister shrugged. “Obviously. You already act like it with me.” She stole another bite of pie, “You two would have the most well-behaved little outlaws,” She added.

“Outlaws?” Jay laughed, trying to sound stable, and like he wasn't thinking about every position he could put his child into you in.

“With her stubbornness and your personality?” She said, “Terrifying.”

You laughed, but your eyes were still on him. His gaze had softened in a way you hadn’t seen before. Jay’s hand slid down from the back of your chair to rest at your waist under the table. He didn’t say anything, as you leaned subtly into your husband’s side, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest— feeling the way his hand lingered at your waist just a second longer than usual.

It would be a long night indeed.

______________

It was all bruising kisses and harsh words as soon as your sister stepped out the door. Jay didn't even wait till she had crossed the street, to grab at your waist and lift you up, carrying you to the bedroom like one carried diamonds and other precious things,

The words ‘you’d make good parents’ had ignited something primal within him, and now with your sister gone, and the house left all to you two, he was going to unleash it.

Jay’s mouth crashed against yours in the hallway, teeth nipping at your lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp, his hands rough on your hips as he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, skirt bunching up your thighs, and you felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing against your core through his jeans. 

“You heard what she said, darling.” He moaned against your mouth, voice thick with need, “We’d make such good parents.”

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, heart racing as he carried you down the hall. His strides were purposeful, possessive, each step jostling you against him, the friction making your panties dampen. 

“Jay.” You breathed but he silenced you with another bruising kiss, tongue thrusting deep, claiming every inch of your mouth like he owned it.

Your husband kicked the bedroom door open, the wood banging against the wall, and dumped you onto the bed with a controlled roughness that sent a thrill through you. You bounced once, skirt riding up to expose your thighs, and he was on you in an instant, looming over your body, his broad frame casting a shadow. His eyes raked over you, dark and hungry, hands already yanking at the hem of your blouse. 

“Clothes off.” His voice was low and authoritative, “Let me see that pretty body.”

Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you obeyed, peeling off your blouse, unhooking your bra to let your breasts spill free. His gaze zeroed in on them, nipples hardening under the cool air and his stare. 

You shimmied out of your skirt next, leaving you in just your panties, the fabric clinging to your arousal. Jay shed his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abs, leading down to where his jeans strained obscenely.

He crawled onto the bed, caging you in with his arms, and started kissing you all over—not the harsh clashes from before, but slower, gentler presses of his lips that spoke of his reverence mixed with raw desire. He began at your neck, sucking lightly on the pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to mark without breaking skin.

“Need to worship this body.” He murmured, lips trailing down to your collarbone, nipping softly, “Before I pump you so fucking full with our child.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and between your legs at his words, the talk sending a fresh gush of wetness to your pussy. You arched into him as his mouth found your breast, tongue circling the nipple before he latched on, sucking hard enough to make you whimper. 

“Ahh—Jay please…” His hand cupped the other, thumb rolling the peak, pinching just shy of pain. You gasped, fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.

He chuckled darkly against your skin, switching sides, lavishing the same attention while his free hand slid down your stomach, fingers splaying possessively over your lower abdomen.

“Please what, my dearest? Please fuck a baby into you?” His kisses continued lower, peppering your ribs, your navel, until he hooked his fingers in your panties and tugged them down your legs, exposing your slick folds, “Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” He settled between your thighs, shoulders nudging them wider, and pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, then another higher, closer to where you ached.

He stripped off his jeans and boxers in one go, veins bulging along his thick cock, the head already weeping pre-cum. He was so damn big, and it was intimidating even after all this time, and your pussy clenched at the sight, knowing how it would stretch you.

Jay stroked himself once, twice, eyes locked on yours as he positioned the tip at your entrance.

“Look at me darling.” His tone was sharp, even as his eyes were soft. “You ready for me?” 

 With that, he pushed in, the broad head breaching you slowly, inch by sublime inch, your walls fluttering around the invasion. You cried out, the burn of his size making your eyes water, hands fisting the sheets as he bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass.

“So tight—ahh fuck.” He groaned, holding still for a moment, forehead resting against yours, “Good little pussy’s made for me yeah?”

 He started moving then, shallow thrusts that let you adjust, but soon deepened, hips snapping forward with controlled power. Each plunge hit deep, the angle brushing your g-spot, sending sparks up your spine. You wrapped your legs around him, heels digging into his back, urging him faster.

“Good girl, goood girl.” He panted, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh to spread you wider. “Feel how deep I am? Right where I need to be to breed you good, pretty girl.” 

"Please, Jay—hah—please..." You begged, voice breathy and desperate as he pounded into you. "Need you to fill me up—ahh!”

Your words only seemed to spur him on further, his hips snapping forward with bruising force as he drove himself into you again and again. The hand on your thigh tightened, fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave marks.

 His pace quickened, cock pistoning in and out, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside your moans. Jay leaned down to capture your lips in a messy kiss, tongue mirroring his thrusts, while his hand slipped between you to rub your clit in firm circles.

“Close close, I’m close!” You whimpered, nails raking down his back, as pleasure coiled in your lower belly.

“Cum for me.” Jay’s voice was rough, “God she’s squeezin’ me dry, darling.” 

His fingers pressed harder on your clit, hips grinding deep on every thrust, and you shattered, orgasm hitting you like a truck. Your pussy convulsed around him, walls rippling, pulling him in as you cried out his name, body arching off the bed.

He didn't stop, fucking you through it, prolonging the bliss until you were oversensitive, twitching beneath him.

“Good girl.” He praised, slowing down just enough to let you catch your breath. But if you knew anything about your husband, he wasn't the kind to leave you alone after just one swig of ambrosia. 

With a grunt, he pulled out, your pussy clenching emptily at the loss, but he was quick to manhandle you—throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half until your knees brushed your chest. The mating press pinned you open, vulnerable, his cock nudging your entrance again.

“Look at you.” He said, eyes blazing as he sank back in, the new angle letting him go impossibly deeper, the head kissing your cervix. You gasped, the fullness bordering on too much, but the stretch ignited fresh arousal. “My beautiful wife.” He thrust in earnest now, powerful slams that rocked the bed.

You were trapped, unable to do more than take it, hands clutching his arms as he dominated you completely. “Jay—fuck, it's too much.” You sobbed, but your body betrayed you, hips tilting to meet him, chasing the building pressure.

“You can take it, my dearest.” He leaned down to peck at your forehead, “I know you can.”

His hand found your clit again, rubbing relentlessly, while the other braced your thigh, keeping you locked in place. The position made every thrust target your deepest spots, the friction on your g-spot unrelenting. Sweat slicked his skin, dripping onto your breasts as he pounded into you, grunts mixing with your cries.

“Tell me you want it.” He huffed, biting down a moan as he felt you squeeze around him, “Tell me you want me to cum inside.” He leaned down again to nip at your earlobe making you moan loud enough for the whole town to hear.

“N-Need it.” You whined, words tumbling out in a haze of ecstasy, “Need it so bad Jay—need you to fill me—ahh god—fill me up.”

His rhythm faltered at your plea, thrusts turning erratic, harder. “Fuck, that's my girl. Gonna pump you so full, you'll feel me leaking out for days, baby.” 

Your second orgasm built faster this time, the overstimulation from the first amplifying everything, your pussy fluttering wildly around him.

“Cum with me.” He ordered, fingers pinching your clit. “Now.”

 The command tipped you over, ecstasy ripping through you as you clenched down, screaming his name. Jay followed instantly, burying himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he unleashed thick ropes of cum deep inside. 

“Take it all.” His body shuddered with the force of his release, “Take every fucking drop.” He held you there, grinding against your cervix, ensuring every spurt coated your walls, breeding you thoroughly. 

He stayed locked inside as you both came down, breaths mingling, his weight a comforting press. Slowly, he unfolded you, legs lowering gently, but he didn't pull out yet, keeping his softening cock plugging you. 

“Stay like that.” He murmured, voice softening just a tad. 

The harshness melted away entirely just as fast as it had settled earlier in the evening. Jay kissed you sweetly, lips brushing yours in feather-light touches, moving to your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids. 

“Love you so much.” He whispered between kisses, hand stroking your hair, "Didn't hurt you did I?”

“You’re asking me that after all that.” You smiled, sated and cherished, pulling him closer as the warmth wrapped around you both, “I loved it, baby.” 

It was very rare for the town to see their cold-hearted sheriff ever soften, or even smile—he was as constant as the northern star in their opinion.

How lucky you were to see his rueful grin, as he pressed his soft lips all over you. He was your husband after all.

Only yours, for now and for as long as the cicadas kept chirping their song. 

fin. 

Taglist: @raven-unkind @bkatarina @shawnyle

you were a smart girl ; so when you were a young girl and your parents instilled into you that you were to never trust a stranger and people were crazy and you could never be too safe , you listened to them. were they being a little overprotective? yes , they probably were — but it’s probably saved you numerous times so you thank them for it.

but to you kei wasn’t a stranger — he was the cute boy you met over the internet and had been interacting with for over a year ; see a year , he wasn’t a stranger anymore.

you had been in your second year of university ; freshly 20 , on your own now — you were a lonely student studying for med school , spending all your time in your dorm alone with your books — you decided you wanted to make friends , so you turned to your university's chat room to find some.

and you did , you found a few actually and you actually hung out with them , it was fun , but you still felt like and outsider , not really fitting all the way in with them — that’s until you stumbled across kei’s account , he was barely active and he was a med student at the center attached to your university , having graduated from that university as well. he was 28 , so he was significantly older than you , but it didn’t matter , he was an adult and you were an adult right?

koga yudai , or kei had followed you first , he messaged you first , and you responded and that’s how that friendship started — along with your “secret admirer”

you didn’t know who this “secret admirer” was , he barely left any clues about who he was expect from the fact that he was a senior in your school and he’d seen you around but he was too shy to tell you how he really felt , so he’d leave little gifts at your seat before class started , leaving before you got there.

“he’s just nervous, give him a chance.” kei would tell you before he’d have to go off to one of his classes , ending your video chat session.

and you did , you kept all the stuffies and cute little sticky notes this admirer would leave you. then the gifts started getting expensive , a golden necklace popped up at your seat one morning. “800 hundred dollars!” you exclaimed to kei over your next video session. “i can’t wear this.”

“why not?” kei sat on the cot of the hospital where he was volunteering. “it’s just a necklace.”

“a 800 dollar necklace.” you said , he was helping you with a project he did when was still a student. “i don’t even have 800 in my bank account.”

“i can lend you some money.”

“koga that’s not the point , this is just too much; even the letter was a little weird today.” you said , picking it up. “he said not to wear the skirt i wore on monday.” you picky up the pink sticky note.

“well what did the skirt look like? maybe he’s just looking out for you.” he said. “he could just be a gentleman trying to protect you.” that should’ve sent red flags off in your head , but to kei’s luck you were naive enough to let it pass since it was him.

“he said it was too short , people could see under it.” you said. “how did he know that unless he’s watching me more than i thought he was?” you questioned , anxiety began to fill up your mind. “i don’t i think accepting all those things was a bad idea , maybe i should try and figure out who he is and tell him to stop it , im flattered but im not really looking for a relationship.”

kei didn’t like the sound of that — if you didn’t want to accept the gifts he bought you then how was he supposed to express his love for you? he grew anxious at the thought of you tossing his gifts in the trash , he didn’t think he went too far with the necklace , you were his and you deserved to be treated like a princess — except you weren’t his , at least not outside of his mind.

after hanging up with you , making up some excuse that he was needed for something, he hung up tossing his phone to the side of the bunk bed he normally took a nap at in the hospital on his days here. rubbing his face against his palms , he felt defeated. he’d work so hard to win your trust only for him to fuck it up with the necklace — of course you didn’t know it was him , but still.

he didn’t understand why couldn’t you just listen to him , the skirt you wore was too short , he could see right up it when he followed you to the cafe. sitting at a far distance , his head low as he watched you eat with a book in your hand ; he could see your red polkadot panties — it took him everything to not jerk off right there , and if that was his thoughts imagine what a real pervert might do if he saw your pretty panties , he couldn’t have some creep looking at you like that.

he didn’t want anyone seeing you in that light , he sweet girl ; the only thing that kept going through the day , just hearing your voice and seeing your face made his heart swell with joy. it had only been a year since he first friended you on the chat room , it quickly moved over to facetimes and calls , and kei was already deeply in love with everything you did.

when you called him excited about passing a hard test; or when you just wanted to hear his voice after having a bad day — how was he not supposed to fall in love with you when you called him so sweetly when you were tired , he watched you fall asleep on the phone countless of times , staying on the line until your phone died.

and even he truly never stopped watching you , those cute teddys he left on your desk — you took them home and gave them a place on your bed , along with the little desk trinket he left ; the bad cameras in them , so he could see you whenever he wanted.

he’d watch over you when you slept , when you were studying or watching a movie. he even watched you get off for the very first time — and it was truly a mind blowing experience.

you had no idea what you were doing , your fingers missing your clit every single time , your frustrated moans ; kei was light headed watching it all from his dark room on his computer , his cock leaking with pre cum as he watched you desperately try to cum — and when you picked up one of the stuffed animals and started grinding on it , he thought he’d pass out from the amount of times he’d cum , his dick was sore and red , and cum was pooling in his lap , dripping down to his balls.

that’s when his sick obsession with you amped up , he needed to see you up close , he need to smell your scent ; his head was full of you and he couldn’t make it stop — it was even affecting his work.

right now he was supposed to be on the floor , but he couldn’t help but jerk off if the nap room. his hand clutching his phone as he hurriedly got off to the footage of you just sitting at your desk studying , your low cut tank top giving a preview of your breast , he imagined what they would taste like in his mouth. he hissed , squeezing his hard cock at the thought of him impaling you on his length , stretching your cunny out.

he knew you were a virgin , he’d asked — of course you were shy when giving him the answer , asking him why would he ask such a question, to which he just laughed saying he was curious.

he couldn’t wait to be the one to take it from you ; have you crying from his dick pounding into you.

“oh fuck!” he had to bite down hard on his hand to keep from moaning hard , so the nurses and doctors right outside couldn’t hear him. he quickly cleaned himself before anyone could come in and enjoy a nap before returning to their busy schedule , making his way back out onto the floor.

his mind was made up , he was gonna ask to meet up — he was gonna take his chance with you.

the gifts had stopped all together ; so did the sticky notes, but the constant feeling of being watched never did , even when you were in your home , with the blinds closed you couldn’t escape it — you avoided going out , you went to class and then back home , those friends you did make , they moved on quickly once you stood putting in effort to see them , you were too scared to.

“me-meet up?” you asked kei after he dropped it on you during your call , it has also been a few days since you had talked to him , but of you being busy. “i don’t think i’m ready to go out yet.” picking nervously at your nails.

“oh pretty i know that you told me that.” he spoke softly , he always spoke in a way that filled your stomach with butterflies. “what if i came over to yours?” he asked , watching you closely , seeing how your face reacted to his proposition. “we can watch a movie , i’ll bring your favorites and we can just chill alone , no going out needed , you can stay in your own little bubble.”

“we’ve been talking for a year now , you don't trust me enough to not do anything pretty?” he put a little sad face on , making you feel bad , it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him — you just never had a boy over , or anyone over for that matter.

“i won’t harm you , i’d never harm you.” he said , and kei was being truthful , he wouldn’t harm a precious hair on your head , you were his future. “i just wanted to be able to see you finally in person.”

you found yourself saying yes before your brain could even register anything. “i-i mean i guess it’s fine.” you said. “i trust you.” maybe seeing kei would make that feeling go away , if that person who was watching you was watching and saw this older guy , maybe he think you were together and leave you alone. “ok you can come over.”

“perfect , i can come over on friday evening after my clinicals.” you nodded. “good , i’ll see you then , i have to go finish up.” he waved goodbye , finally he’d have his time with you.

that day finally came ; you’d spent the entire afternoon cleaning your apartment , even using your favorite scented candles that had your apartment smelling like a bakery — all in preparation for him , you weren’t even together but the thought of seeing him for the first time , in this private setting had goosebumps forming on your skin.

you weren’t sure what to put on , so you just settled on your everyday comfortable clothes , getting changed in the bathroom , the only place you didn’t feel like being watched on display.

‘i’m in your building , i’m coming up see you soon🥰’

your heart was slamming against your rib cage , you were finally getting to see your one and only true friend after a year of talking , you felt so happy that the feeling of being watched went away — just as the door bell rang.

you took in a deep breath , it was just a boy , why were you so nervous? pushing it all to the side , you took a deep breathe , opening the door — and there he was ; tall , probably 6’0 maybe 6’1 , his shoulders broad , and he was smiling down at you. “hi.”

“hello pretty.” there goes those butterflies again. “you’re even more beautiful in person.” what he should’ve said is up close because he’d seen you in person countless of times. “you’re gonna let me in pretty , it’s cold in this hallway.”

you stepped to the side , allowing him into your safe space. “i-it’s not much , but it’s mines.” kei had only seen your bedroom , which he was fine with , but seeing where you spent your days ; where you ate and watched your favorite shows — it felt intimate to him , he was getting to know a new part of you , something he already didn’t know.

“i don’t care what your house looks like , i just wanted to see you finally.” you smiled , shying away as you guided him to your living room , holding your favorite food in his hand , you didn’t question it , you probably mentioned it before and he remembered — kei always remembered things about you , he probably remembered more than your parents did.

you sat down on the couch , putting space in between the two of you ; kei didn’t like that. “why are you so far , come closer i’m not gonna hurt you.” he said softly , you moved closer , he smiled watching you move so obediently for him. “see i’m harmless.” if only that was true.

you would’ve thought you two would’ve thought you two hadn’t seen or to each other in years the the conversation flowed while you ate , it was mostly you talking , but kei didn’t mind , he could listen to your sweet voice for hours if he could. “i’m probably talking too much , i should shut up.”

“why do you always sell yourself short?” his hand coming up to rest on your cheek. “keep talking pretty i wanna hear you.” his thumb close to your lips , you turned your head , smiling as he let you go. “how about we watch the movie now.” he said.

“o-okay.”

he watched you grabbing the remote , the very same shorts he watched you get off for the first time showing the curvature of your ass , the memories coming back to him , making his dick twitch in his pants as you sat back down. “i picked out a few , not just what i wanted to see but some i think you’ll like too.”

“i’ll watch whatever you want me to.” putting on your favorite movie , kei turned the final lamp off leaving you both in the dark with the tv playing.

he genuinely couldn’t tell you what was going on in the movie , his eyes were on you like you were a film to be watched , this is all that he ever wanted , he counted down the hours until he could finally get you like this — alone with him. you sat almost like a statue nervous about him being there , about your stalker ; you wondered if he was still watching? would he get upset if he saw kei? would he try and harm you. “what you thinking about?”

kei pulled you from your thoughts , you shook your head. “i just hope whoever was watching me won’t hurt me.” you said. “he’s been quiet for the past few weeks and i hope he stays like that.”

“he will , i’ll protect you.” he said , patting the seat next to him. “come closer.”

you hesitantly moved closer , until your legs were burning against his. “now face me.” you turned your body towards him , he pushed his glasses up on his face. “no one will harm you , i promise i wont let them , you’ve been alone all these years , but you aren’t anymore , you got me.” his hand warm on your thigh , you looked down. “and i won’t ever let you go.”

you gulp , a pit in your stomach as his hands reached higher. “ma-maybe we should watched the movie.” you said , he smiled softly.

“do you really want to finish the movie?” his thumb finally reaching your clothed clit , you whimpered at the sudden feeling down below , a feeling you’ve only felt once. the day you tried to touch yourself , it was a fleeting feeling that you could never feel again no matter how you tried to find it — but he found it within seconds , like he already knew your body before you.

“you feel that?” he moved his thumb in deep circles. “your pretty pussy getting wet.” he said , using the voice he used when you were sleepy , soft and dreamy — making your head feel fuzzy. “you want me to touch you more?”

you didn’t know what you wanted anymore , something about this felt so off now ; but you couldn’t pinpoint it , but the way he was touching you , it all felt like too much and not enough at the same time. “i-i do.”

he moved his hand away , causing you to whimper pathetically , but did he make fun of you? of course not , you were his precious baby and he’d give you anything you asked of him — he’d lay down and die if you asked him to. “come on pretty , let’s go to bed okay? i want you to be comfortable.”

grabbing the hand he held out for you , he took hold of it , guiding you to your room. “such a pretty room baby.” he whispered into your ear. all the stuffed animals he’d left on your desk sitting on your bed neatly. “so cute baby.” he picked them up , gently sitting them all on the ground — except for one , the one with the camera. “he seems like your favorite.” your cheeks flushed as he sat it on the desk. “he doesn’t belong on the floor if he’s your favorite.” that wasn’t for you , that was so he could go home and rewatch the footage.

he sat on the beckoning you over to sit on his lap. “come on.” he said, welcoming you into his lap. “good girl.” he sat you down directly onto his already chubbed cock. “you feel that? baby that’s how i feel about you , that’s how i’ve felt about you for the past year.” grinding you against him. “you don’t know how hard it was to not see you.”

“to not touch you or hear your voice.”

he picked you , putting you one the bed. “to taste you.” pulling your shorts down , your panties already soaked through. “to be the first and only to have you.”

“ke-kei.” you moaned out , your voice small but needy. “ke-kei you know i’ve never done this before.” he was lifting your shirt over your head.

“it’s okay , i got you.” he toyed with your nipples , licking them softly , mewls leaving your mouth as sucked on your breast like he was waiting for something to come out of them , finally tasting your sweet skin , he kissed and licked all the way down until he reached what he thought was the gateway to heaven , your clothed pussy. “i’ll make you feel good , i promise baby.”

kissing your clothed heat , licking a stripe before pulling your panties down your legs. “look at that , so wet baby.” inhaling your scent before diving into your pussy , licking and sucking your folds. “so sweet baby , like candy.”

he looked up at you , his eyes completely blown and dark , the pit in your stomach getting bigger , he sucked on your clit , making you tug at his roots. “i-i’m sorry.”

“no baby.” he sucked harder, making your legs jolt , but he held your legs down. “do it again , baby pull harder.” groaning against your heat feeling you tug his hair harder , his cock about to burst if he didn’t get inside you — but he wanted to make you cum first , it was all about you , he was all about you , everything he did was for you.

“ke-kei it feels weird.”

he could feel it , the way you jerked against him face , his nose bumping your swollen clit. “just let it out baby , let me taste all you.” you couldn’t stop yourself , that knot in your belly snapping and your mouth dropped open. “fuck that’s it baby.” he moaned himself as he drunk up whatever you had to give him. “keep cumming for me pretty , i want it all.”

you had never felt that type of pleasure before , it was all consuming. “ke-kei.” he pulled away , his lips glossy from your juices.

“did you like it pretty?” you nodded. “good , that’s my sweet girl.”

you watched him undress himself , pulling his underwear down letting his cock free. “it’s okay baby i’ll go slow.” he climbed on top of you. “i’m not gonna hurt you.”

teasing you with the tip as he looked into your eyes. “breathe for me.” he guided himself into your waiting cunt. “fuck… that’s it , keep breathing baby let me in.” you felt his cock stretching you out , whimper’s falling from your lips and he seethed himself fully inside. “you did it baby.” he kissed your cheeks , which were wet from your tears. “no more tears , your kei is gonna make you feel better.”

he moved slowly , even though everything inside him screamed to ravish you , take your legs and hold them open as he made you his. “so-so big.” you stuttered out. “to-too much.”

“no no baby you can take it.” he sped up , his grip getting tighter around your waist. “be a good girl.” he pulled out , slamming back in , you screamed. “be a good girl and take my cock.”

unable to hold himself back , he pushed your hips up to your chest , getting a deeper angle , fucking into you , a buldge forming below your belly. “fuck.” he ran his finger along your belly. “that’s me right there.” pressing down , you let out scream in pleasure. “taking all of you.”

“oh my god.” you babbled a bunch of words , unable to form a perfect sentence as he fucked everything thought out of your mind , replacing it with his name. “ke-kei.”

“say it pretty , say my name — let everyone know who's owning this pretty body.” he grunted. “who’s body this belongs to.” his cock claiming every part of you mind, body and soul. “tell me who you belong to.”

“yo-you.” your brain felt like mush as you felt your orgasm approaching. “i-i belong to you.” he moaned hearing you accept him , your body had already accepted him , now he had your heart and your mind.

“that’s right.” he said , feeling you squeeze around. “you’re mines , and i am yours.” he’d never let you go now , he was a slave to you , as long as you stayed by his side you’d live life you wanted — the life you deserved.

“ke-kei i’m gonna— do it pretty cum for me.” your orgasm came crashing down on you , the shaking of your legs as you gave your all to the man above you. “fu-fuck i’m gonna fill this pretty cunt up.”

his orgasm came soon after yours , pumping you full of his hot seed , leaving your cunt a puffy sticky mess. he never wanted to leave you , he wanted to keep you like this , all pretty for him. “so pretty.”

he slipped out of you , his cum leaking out of you ; taking his two fingers , pushing it back inside you. “hold it in for me baby , be a good girl f’me.” he smiled , kissing your lips.

he washed your body , holding you i his arms , insisting on doing everything for you. “i did this to you , and it’s my job to fix you.” he whispered softly into your ear , washing your body — he was soft with your body , treating you like glass as he dressed you and put you into bed , crawling in with you.

“can you stay with me?”

“of course i will.” he pulled you into his arms. “i’ll stay with you as long as you allow me , and even after i’ll stay.” you didn’t catch the last part because you were already drifting off into a deep sleep.

he woke up the next morning , you were still asleep; he quietly got up , looking around your apartment , taking a picture of everything so he could study you more , slipping the extra key you hid in the drawer into his pocket — he’ll use that when you weren’t home.

he stood above your sleeping form , you were so beautiful. “ke-kei.” you said sleepily. “wh-what are you doing?” he bent down to face you , petting your cheek softly. “down to the hospital , i don’t want to but i have to , okay.” kissing your lips.

“will you come back?”

“of course , i’ll alway come back.” you nodded , turning on your side , drifting off to sleep , before he stood up , he picked up those same panties he took off you , bringing them to his nose , inhaling your scent before stuffing them into his pocket — he’d use those to get him through the day , watching you through the lens of the stuffed bear .

just until he could back to you.

soobin was manspread and arms crossed over his chest, unaware of his flaccid yet slick cock twitching back to life over his tensed thigh, leaning back against the soft chair and just stares at the messy art you and fuma display. he can see the battle between intimacy and unadulterated lust with your movements, the push and pull, the widened to narrowed stares you give each other.

bodies in motion, his head tilts to gather more visuals for his mental spank bank.

and then he thinks a bit crazier; putting himself in a different perspective entirely. that, what if he wasn’t a part of this relationship and was watching from an outsiders perspective? would his body react the same way?

or perhaps, in an alternate universe; you two were the couple and he’d be watching you two in a candid setting, all wholesome and with pure giggles, just interacting. he wholeheartedly believe his first thought would be:

“oh they’re so cute, but i just know this couple fucks so nasty behind closed doors.”

and he’d be so right if, somehow, he was able to see you both completely devour each other’s pleasure, just like you are now.

putting on a show for just him, showing him how nasty you both can really be, on his bed. and he knows you both are still fully aware of his presence, but he’s starting to get the feeling that you’re slowly losing focus on everything except for each other.

an effect that usually happens when you’re in the equation.

… fuck. soobin can see the way you lose composure, how you battle the desire trying to override your every motion and sense, keeping fuma close with your nails clawing into his flexing scapulas to kiss your appreciation right onto his tongue.

the way fuma stops his punching thrusts and resorts to grinding instead as he sucks onto your tongue in response. stopping his lust filled drive to come back down and meet you at your attempt for a deeper connection. drool dripping down your chin, slick pink open mouths sliding against each other, hands gripping bruises onto each other’s skin.

soobin doesn’t realize the slight twitching furrow of his brows from his intense analytical studying, only keeps his hawkeye on how you break apart when fuma coaxes you back up with him once his pace quickens again, coddling you back into insanity and lust when he snaps his hips just right. soobin reels at the visuals laid out before him;

your peeking tongues still pressed flat together after you couldn’t keep up with fuma’s open mouthed kisses from the pleasure you felt, puffing your saccharine noises into each other’s drooling mouths. the pointed tip of your tongue flicking over the middle of fuma’s flat tongue one last time before your head tips back onto soobin’s pillows like a fallen angel.

soobin knows fuma can be more of a menace than him sometimes, seeing it in the way he wraps his plush lips over your tipped chin and jawline to coax more huffing moans out your vibrating throat, then leaning back when he knows your hands will feebly attempt to keep him close.

my poor honey, soobin thinks as he sighs so soft you both wouldn’t hear past your own noises, shifting on the chair with an itch to just walk over and bite fuma for teasing so much.

but he sits still and watches as you stay pliant underneath fuma’s swift hands, raw and bare open, allowing him to press your ankles together and place them over one of his shoulders. soobin stays, watching fuma’s eyelashes flutter shut as he turns his nose into your skin and presses his lips there on the nimble bone while his other hand runs down the expanse of your outer thigh; admiring the small reminders of softness fuma tries to keep amidst his mean hips. just for your sake, since he knows you need a balance.

leaning fully back, soobin knows you’re in good hands. he knows you’re okay when fuma gently unhooks your legs off his broad shoulder and turns you over to one side, guiding your frame into another position. he knows you’re okay when you suddenly stop fuma mid turn to meet his lips in a searing passion, still staying connected even as you fully turn onto your stomach, neck craned uncomfortably back and exposed in an upside down kiss.

soob can see your desperation, how quick you break apart to shift and maneuver feverishly underneath fuma’s frame until your legs spread over fu’s thighs, and how fuma responds by spreading his own to knee you open, like it’s second nature. like it’s natural, perfect, the way your bodies understand what they need from each other.

a smile rises on soobin’s lips when fuma’s broad frame inches closer, head hovers higher over yours so that you could stay comfortable and not have to crane so much to keep kissing, nudging himself deeper within your clenched walls and pressing his pelvis against the fat of your ass. you’ve disappeared underneath fuma, encapsulated completely and all soobin can see was the deep slope of fu’s spine dipping out into his curved ass cheeks and your bent legs mindlessly kicking in the air against fuma’s tensed outer thighs with each shallow rut.

and when you break apart, face falling into the mattress, hair puffing around your face and hands gripping cold fabrics instead of warm skin, the sound of your muffled noises is a symphony in soobin’s twitching ears as his eyes drink in the way fuma curls around your frame to imprint a line of fluttering kisses down your nape and upper spine.

small wisps of softness still bleeding through, heart aching intimacy to let your inner self know you’re being well taken care of. it feels so familiar because soobin told his best friend beforehand exactly what you like, confusing your brain by mixing the soft kisses with his insistent hips.

this is better than any movie he could ever watch. it’s not just eroticism in its rawest form, it’s rhythm, alignment and connection in the most intimate way..

his eyes sparkle at the beauty of your bare bodies when fuma leans back, marveling at the human body and it’s wonders as he watches your ass ripple against the force of fuma’s soaked pelvis and your toes curls when his hand furls around your ankle again.

soobin thought he counted all the beauty marks on both your bodies enough to know where each one was, but his eyes narrow when he sees another on your upper left cheek, right underneath your hip.

and he knows fuma is staring at the exact feature too, eyes shadowed underneath his bangs with his head tilted down, watching as his hips make the small beauty mark dance. he can hear fuma mutter something in japanese under his breath, make out the syllables but it was intonation of his deep voice that had soobin’s teeth biting down harder on his bottom lip.

“cute, so cute when you’re ruined..” voice thick in his japanese dialect, drowning in the sweet puddle of your muffled whimpers warbling in the pillow. soobin feels his own body prickle with excitement, knowing it’s directed for you. and somehow, it makes him prideful, knowing that this cuteness is still all his.

feral, and that’s when soobin sees the switch to lust once again. when fuma suddenly snakes both hands around your hips and pounds into you with one sharp thrust, stopping quick. the veins in his hands protrude as he uses his strength to pull you back with him as a signal, prompting you to respond regardless. he couldn’t hold back anymore; craving to ruin more.

soobin’s rock hard cock twitches at the strangled moan that leaves your sloppy lips at fuma’s urge, and he registered the ache from his blood rushing quicker than he realized, but he’s not focused on himself right now— he’s more intrigued on what fuma’s trying to do.

but it twitches again to a point where he cannot ignore when you let yourself get pulled, following fuma’s silent request immediately and waking your melting body out of the dumbed haze to act. soobin’s fascinated, eyes wide when you shuffle onto your knees and hold yourself up on trembling thighs with the help of fuma lifting you up, lower half now raised high into the air with fuma still bottomed out in your drooling pussy.

he couldn’t help but marvel at fuma’s satisfying hum, the approving nod of fuma’s head, because of how intuned you are with him already, when he pulls you back enough for you to brace yourself on your forearms instead of your squished cheek, when you start throwing yourself back onto fuma’s soaked cock immediately and he slides a hand down the dip of your spine to keep your pace steady. keeping your arch form perfect like a divine sculpture.

soobin could cum untouched at this art.

the constant ripple of your ass in coordination with the bouncing echo of your skins smacking, how your force slightly knocks fuma back even when he meets you midway with heavy thrusts, how your thighs tremble as they slip further apart, how he can see bliss on your bitten lips when your press your forehead against your forearm.

nasty. succumbing to lust once again, pure desire and crude carnal desperation.

that’s what this is.

a perfect blend of devotion and lust between you and fuma; in soobin’s terms, just what nasty is.

but he wonders. fascinatingly intrigued if nasty can change, can be different in fuma’s eyes as they watch what nasty means to you and soobin. it makes soobin wanna have fuma watch how you truly act, how you truly take when you’re with soobin, and he’ll make it happen again— knowing fuma would watch happily like he’s done before.

&teamies taglist: @xionvlog @pageraf @makizdoll @lynaka @smidare @rinnrinnn @doyoueverthinkofrose @cerezitamour @wvlftype @uasabii @sensooazie @sunsunpilled @horangiungnico @bloomedberry @lotusluntiny @eunyih @lunenet @scentofjoo

tubatu taglist: @chai-soobin @lovelyangel22

he wants to make a mess, his eyes slightly rolling behind his fluttering eyelids as he presses open mouthed kisses over your mound and sucks all the pleasure from your puffy lips. he’s been begging for it all day, for this every single day. he’s even said please, caressed and nuzzled into your body in ways he knows you adore. he knows you love his desperate need, the way he practically whines as he literally collapses and pressed his face into your stomach to mutter continuously, “please? please, pleasepleasepleaseplease, my love, lemme eat you, please?”

“… ok! oookay! just one more, promise??”

so he doesn’t care that he’s practically purring from your taste, he doesn’t care about the tightening grip of your hands tugging his roots, he doesn’t care about the quiver of your thighs underneath his warm palms. he squeezes the soft skin; plushy, you feel squishy, so malleable between his spreading fingers as he pulls you impossibly closer to his awaiting mouth.

his tongue is slick, full of spit. he does have a bit of a drooling problem, saliva pooling even before he was able to drag you into your room from the idea of getting his meal.

it’s for his pleasure, his hips rutting against the bedsheets underneath his body as your own buck up into his face. it only adds onto his pleasure; knowing he’s the reason for your confused whines melting into nothing but a beautiful motley of harmonious symphonies.

why wait, when he realizes he can have his fill anytime any day?

he might be suffocating at this point, but again, he does not care. his tip of nose and the majority of his lower face might be glistening with the concoction of your slick and his spit, but he’s kissing and licking until he’s had his fill.

he might as well cry in joy from how warm he felt.

he needs this.

badly. you understand..

yeah, your hands might be pushing at his forehead with weakening strength for him to pull away but he’s not done. yeah, maybe he already unknowingly pulled two orgasms from you just with his flicking tongue, but he doesn’t want to pull away.

he only does when he realizes the lightheaded buzz was coming from the lack of oxygen, lips parting from yours in a slick pop and a sigh of relief as if he was the world’s thirstiest man finally detaching from his favorite juice. his eyes roll open to glance at the mess.

puffs of his breath waft over your sensitive sex as his open smile grows at the beauty in front of him, and he could giggle from his thoughts but he can’t ignore the slight tremble on your lower navel. his lips must’ve looked as puffy, swollen and reddened as your pussy and now he just has to giggle like a drunken, love-insane man.

delicious, desperate.

yeah, you might’ve been whining for him to not look or for even laughing, but everything is muffled. he must’ve looked completely wrecked with his hooded, unfocused gaze staring directly at your sex, hair fluffed from your constant touch, covered with a glistening sheen everywhere—

i mean, he does get messy.

his tongue rolls out from his mouth to break the line of spit that connects your lips to his, because he can’t waste anything.

jo can’t waste another moment before he’s leaning into your pussy with the same open mouth sucks, his gripping hands pulling you closer as he savors every part as much as he can. it’s like a constant routine he will never ever get tired of, his eyes rolling shut from the comfort of being in his favorite place ever. his tongue flicks upwards in one long stripe before he’s leaning in once again to kiss languidly at your budding nerve as he hears your warbling whines. he knows how much you despise hearing the actual slickness of your arousal in his mouth; but maybe he does it on purpose, or maybe he just does it because he loves the sound of it.

the sound of his pure insatiable need for you in wet squelches as he practically makes out with your dripping sex, tilting and leaning his head in with each smooth as if he was deepening a kiss.

his jaw aches, but he continues to chase after your sweet lips with each audible kiss and slurp.

he has to make love to your sex somehow; care for her, treat her right, shower her in pure affection.

again, a man of his word, jo could pass out exactly like this, happy and in between your thighs. he doesn’t care about him losing his breath again as he shakes his head from side to side, hair ruffling over his closed eyelids from the movement. he can hear his name falling from your open mouth between increments, increasing in pitch and frequency, almost muffled against the sinful sounds emanating from his make out with your pussy.

“mpphh jo, you said once.. you p-promise!”

you sound utterly wrecked, his hips rutting harder into the sheets and veins protruding clear on the back of his hands from his tightening grip. he doesn’t know whether to let your plush thighs go or push them apart as they fight against his palms in attempt to close around him, testing his physical and emotional strength.

should he just let you pop his skull?

maybe his incoming release might be clouding his senses even more, but it seems like he just wants you surrounding him in every sense as well.

his eyebrows furrow upwards underneath his fluffy bangs, his cheeks painted in pink and glittering with sweat and your liquid arousal. it doesn’t surprise him when his pleasure suddenly increases tenfold as his orgasm rapidly washes over him, his hips jerking against the sheets as his lips free your delicate skin to moan.

his body is ridged as it overcomes every part of his being, his muscles tightening underneath his perspired skin before they seep into nothing but jello.

his voice is hoarse and cracking as he moans languidly, high and drawn out, lips plush over your quivering sex from the intensity of his ecstatic release and he doesn’t care about his dampening grey sweats as he rides out his high with rutting hips.

he does care about his noises, opting to latch onto your pussy to muffle his moans with vibrating hums instead after he softly comes down from his release into a soft puddle of liquid limbs.

jo’s such a mess, tears almost falling down his cheeks from the pleasure of it all.

at least he’s had his fill, and after a while of just resetting himself back to a normal state by calming his breaths and muddled brain, he pulls off from your swollen lips and gives it one final lingering kiss — full, languid, and fully sincere.

as if you’re his favorite in the world.

as if he’s giving thanks.

as if he can’t never get enough.

&teamies taglist: @xionvlog @pageraf @makizdoll @lynaka @smidare @rinnrinnn @doyoueverthinkofrose @cerezitamour @wvlftype @uasabii @sensooazie @sunsunpilled @horangiungnico @bloomedberry @lotusluntiny @eunyih @lunenet @scentofjoo

Sure, Maki never leaves you alone at parties, and if you're apart from him for more than five minutes, he always takes time to find you among the crowd to make sure you're doing okay. But he's never been this close to you. Always tending to be occupied by some game happening outside or some dance line going on in the large living room of the frat house.

Luckily, the drinks are tasty tonight. They are much to your liking, which is also unusual. however you know it's because Fuma took your request for a mango drink, being here instead of passion fruit. You make a note to thank him later.

Maki stands close, caging you against the counter, uncaring of all the people maneuvering around your bodies to try and get something from behind or in one of the coolers near you, and his tangled legs.

He won't move or say anything; he's just eyeing you. So you stare back, but that's when you see it. That fuzzy glint in his eye that he usually only gets when he's alone with you. The glint means he's feeling buttery smooth and free from all thoughts and decisions. Looking to you for all guidance.

"Baby."

"Hm?" he replies. Eyes somehow getting lower than they already beautifully droop.

"What's got you so—"

You don't finish. He's glad you don't because red flushes his skin instantly. He should have known you'd notice, you always do. Everything about him from the inside out, you understand. See.

"Don't know," he finally answers. dipping his head to hang low. meeting your shoulder in the process. The smile creeps up onto your lips, and the need to kiss him is so strong you must land one on his cheek. That should suffice for now.

"Why'd you come out if you knew you'd be so fuzzy?" Your tone is gentle, not reprimanding at all. you know Maki well enough to know that since he promised Nicho that he'd be here tonight, that's he be here no matter what. Even if he's in that space, that makes him practically grow physical ears and a tail.

"Don't know…" he repeats. This time, he gets closer to your neck and breathes in deeply and unfiltered. Not thinking one bit about how intimate you both appear in a fucking frat house kitchen.

It fits him so well that you want to giggle. Frat boy Maki, who loves to party, somehow gets puppybrained minutes into said party and wants to start scenting his girlfriend in the frat house kitchen, no care in the world about how others can see him.

You'd call that one hell of a book.

Rubbing up his arm, you trail your fingertips lightly over the taut muscles. Pale skin, solid and thick with his efforts. Gently, you stroke your fingers higher up his neck, causing a shiver to wrack down his spine. He sniffs closer to your skin, pressing hard against you.

Finally reaching the hair at his nape, you tug softly. Enough to have him nod into your neck. You need to take care of him, and the kitchen is not the spot to do so.

"Wanna head upstairs, puppy?" you whisper into his ear.

There's the slight buckle of his knees. He doesn't speak, move, or look at you. Just goes limp, and you know that's him waiting for you to take his hand and guide him up each creaky stair, until his back is against the headboard of his bed and his feet are rid of the chunky shoes he wore.

"Hurry!" he rushes as you still stand away at his closet, putting away the clothes you've stripped off of him. You aren't being slow on purpose—okay, maybe a little.

It's because, as fuzzy as Maki is right now, he's even needier in this space. Cock hard against his briefs from nothing more than having you nearby. Hands clenching and unclenching because you aren't in his grasp. It makes you want to drag his need out until he's practically drooling dumb into your neck as his cock fucks in and out of your heat.

However, tonight you just want to touch him. He'll get the treat of fucking you later tonight, perhaps— if you're feeling nice like that.

Finally, closing his closet, you tread lightly over to him. His eyes sparkle when your dress falls onto the floor. You are clad in nothing but a pair of pink panties. Lace hem with a pretty bow in the middle. He groans. The sight is enough to have him closing his eyes, trying his best to cling to some form of sanity, but the pup in him whines the closer your heat inches towards his length.

"So whiny like this, gonna let me shut you up?" he nods before you even finish the sentence. Agreeing to whatever you say, even if he doesn't know what the next word will be. You laugh before sucking your teeth.

"But what if I wanna make you loud and stupid puppy?" you frown. Rocking your hips forward once. It's enough to have him grab your hips.

"Whatever you want, whatever…j-just, me…touch me." Already so lost that he can't speak properly, but pups don't need to talk well. They just need to take, mewl, beg.

So before you say anything else, you begin a quick pace. clit rubbing against the throbbing base of him. His cock heavy against his abdomen. The damp fabric spurs you on. Feeling it through the thin pink panties. It's so good.

Maki is breathing fast, uneven, as if just having you dryhump his dick without care is taking him somewhere euphoric.

You're needy, teeth itching to bite.

Watching his pretty chest heaving up and down, you eye the dusty, rosy buds. Perk in the cold air of his frat room, practically inviting you to lick at them. Dragging your tongue up one of them without warning makes him squeak cutely.

"N…not there," he panics. A Cheshire grin takes place on your face, ignoring him. Sucking harshly before teething on the buds. Moving from one to the other until he's hot pink all over. Nipples erect and chest sucked to marks. So pretty.

"Puppy, you say one thing but look—" you hold both his pecks in your hand. squeezing them tightly before trying to push the firm muscles together.

It's embarrassing how much he's getting off to this, yet it's nothing new to you. He knows that, but what if he comes too fast? He doesn't wanna! and—

You silence all thoughts in his head.

"Shh, baby, just feel good. No one has to know how sensitive my pretty pups nipples are. No one but mama."

The title gets him close. So close, he flips you both over to gnaw at your shoulder. Rutting his sopping clothed dick up and down your slit. Gasping every time his tip catches at your entrance, he nods.

"Puppy's gonna c-cum mama," he whispers, whiny tone making you clench.

Tugging at his hair, pulling him back until his dazed eyes gaze into yours.

"Yeah, gonna make a mess on my pretty panties? Pull it out, puppy. Wanna feel it all against me." Shaky hands pull at his briefs until they are around his thick thighs. Thighs that are so strong and jiggle slightly as he thrusts his exposed length against the thin fabric that hides you from him.

It's exciting. Knowing he can feel but can't see you yet, he gives in so easily at your request to have him hang heavy against you. Marking your skin with milky white that shoots from his bruising tip.

You notice him whining, moving his chest closer to your face, the pretty pups' silent ask makes you wetter than you can describe. You hum before licking at his nipples again, sucking one and then the other hard. Flicking your tongue as the suction turns his pale skin deep red.

When he cums, he doesn't look away from you. His eyebrows furrow and his droopy eyes hold some tears at the edges. you kiss them away before taking his lips onto your own.

Feverish tongue against tongue and your teeth into his plush bottom lip. Both sighing into the kiss, he pulls back to bite at your neck. Imprinting the skin with a happy hum when he's satisfied with how deep it is. You'd think he's an actual puppy hybrid with how much it states his need and somehow gets him half hard again.

The thick cum on your panties makes you tap it into your clit. Pulling the panties to the side and toying with Maki's cum into your wetness until it's mixed. Shivering, he watches, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You automatically know where his mind went. Your needy lil thing.

"Taste it for me, puppy?"

When she's needy, she'll knead—her hands pressing against your chest or your hips, claws carefully retracted. She does it when she's content, too, especially when you're tangled together afterward, her cheek pressed to your heart. She'll knead the blanket, your shoulder, whatever's closest, purring like a motor. But her paws frequently (naturally) gravitate towards your pretty little tits.

Yuma's tail has a mind of its own too. When you're reading or watching something, it'll curl around your wrist or your ankle or, a particular favourite of hers, your thigh. When she's feeling possessive, it tightens, and if someone walks by, it flicks once, sharp, like a warning. She doesn't even realize she's doing it half the time.

She loves to be petted—loves it—but she'll never ask directly. Instead, she'll tilt her head into your hand or bump her forehead against your palm, or simply stare at you with those big, luminous eyes until you take the hint. And when you scratch behind her ears, she melts, eyes half-lidding, a soft chirrup escaping her lips.

And when she makes love to you?

Oh she writes poetry onto your skin—slow, each kiss a syllable, each touch a line break.

She always starts at your collarbone, pressing her lips there like she's testing the rhythm of your pulse, then trails downward, pausing at the dip of your sternum as if savoring a stanza she's memorized. Her fingers trace invisible verses along your ribs and when she finds a spot that makes you shiver, she purrs—low and rumbling—and repeats it, like she's found a rhyme she wants to keep.

“Are you my good girl, baby?”

Yuma's voice is a low, vibrating rumble that resonates deep in your chest. She looks up at you, her pupils blown wide, nearly swallowing the iris of her eyes. There is a hunger in her gaze that goes beyond affection—the primal drive of her heat, a feverish need that turns her usual tenderness into something far more demanding.

She doesn't wait for an answer. With movements that tell no lie that she's a cat in all her glory, she shoves you back onto the bed, her body pinning yours for a fleeting second before she slides down. Her tail lashes behind her, a whip of excitement, before it snakes around your waist, tightening with a firm, grounding grip that anchors you down to the mattress.

When Yuma reaches your thighs, she rips your underwear aside with her sharp teeth, her breath hot and erratic against your sensitive skin. The moment her tongue makes contact, it is not the slow stroke of a poet—it is the desperate hunger of a predator.

"Mmm, you smell so sweet…" She moans against your folds, her voice muffled and wet. "So fucking sweet for me. I can taste how much you want this."

Yuma dives in, her tongue broad and flat, licking you from the bottom of your pussy aaaall the way up to your clit in one long, drenched stroke. You gasp, your back arching off the sheets, but Yuma’s tail only tightens around your waist, pulling you back down down down, forcing you to take every bit of the friction. She begins to eat you out with a frantic, sloppy intensity, her tongue swirling and darting, coating you in thick, hot saliva.

"Ah! Yuma—!" You cry out, your fingers instinctively diving into her soft hair.

As you grip her locks, pulling her head closer, your knuckles brush against the base of her sensitive fluffy ears. Yuma lets out a sharp, high-pitched chirrup of pleasure, a sound of pure ecstasy that only makes her more aggressive.

She loves the pain, the way you claim her even as she dominates you. She responds by burying her face deeper, her nose pressing into your heat, sucking your clit into her mouth with a powerful, rhythmic vacuum.

"Yeah juuust like that baby…." She mumbles, her voice thick with lust between wet, slurping sounds. "Tell me how good it feels to have your kitty eating you. Tell me you're my little slut."

You can't even form words, only broken moans and whimpers as she relentlessly licks and sucks. The sound is explicit—the wet, squelching noise of her tongue working over your swollen folds, the rhythmic slap of her cheeks against your thighs.

Yuma is in the throes of her heat, and while her own body is screaming for release, the act of tasting you, of feeling you tremble and leak against her tongue is the only thing that satiates her.

You begin to squirm, your hips jerking in a desperate attempt to find the perfect angle, but Yuma’s tail is an iron band around your waist. She holds you pinned, her purring now a loud, guttural engine that vibrates through your entire lower body.

"Stay still." She commands, her voice a dominant growl. "A kitty needs to lick every drop, you know that, don't you sweetheart?"

Your girlfriend accelerates, her tongue flickering with lightning speed against your clit, swirling and pressing, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You are sobbing now, your fingers tightening in her hair, pulling her head firmly against you as the tension coils tight in your gut.

"Yuma…..'m gonna—!"

"Do it." Yuma moans, looking up for a split second, her face glistening with your juices. "Cum for me, my good girl……yeah fucking soak me darling….."

With one final suction of her lips and a sharp flick of her tongue, you shatter. Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, your body convulsing violently. You scream into the quiet of the room, your muscles clamping down on her mouth as you cum all over her.

Yuma stays there, drinking you in (kitties don't waste a single drop), her tongue continuing to lap at you even as the peaks of your pleasure subside. She eventually pulls back, a thin string of saliva and cream connecting her lip to your clit. She looks utterly satisfied, her eyes hooded and glazed, a smug, possessive smile on her lips as she licks her lips clean.

"Good girl…" She whispers, her tail finally loosening its grip to curl affectionately around your ankle. "Absolutely perfect."

Oh but of course, what sort of a caring kitty would she be if she left her beloved after just one orgasm?

Yuma is a creature of appetite and while your juices have sated her hunger for a moment, the fire of her heat is still roaring, demanding a deeper kind of satisfaction.

God that strap game of hers, one could even go so far as to say it was better than anything heaven above or hell below could ever provide. But Yuma was your purgatory, wasn't she? A beautiful, purring torment who knew exactly how to keep you suspended between ecstasy and agony.

Yuma pulls back just enough to reach for the bedside table, her movements as fluid and predatory as that clawed half-part of her. When she returns, she’s wearing a harness, the leather straps hugging her hips, supporting a thick strap-on that hums with a low, menacing vibration. The device is designed for mutual pleasure, sending shivers of electricity back into Yuma's own body while it promises to tear through your remaining defenses.

"You can give me one more, yeah baby?" She growls, her voice dropping an octave. She shoves your legs wide, exposing you completely. "You're still so wet for me—we sure you're not in heat too?"

Yuma settles between your thighs with the painful patience of a cat who knows exactly what she's doing, the vibrating head of her strap brushing against your swollen clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your nerves that makes you gasp. She leans forward, her weight pressing you deeeeep into the mattress, and then, with a slow thrust, she slides inside you.

"Ah… fuck….." Yuma moans, her head falling forward. The vibration is humming through both of you now, a shared frequency of lust that makes your vision blur.

Your girlfriend fucks you nice and slow, each inch of the silicone stretching you, filling you until you feel like you might burst. She moves with a rhythmic, agonizing precision, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in with a wet slap.

"Hold onto me." She commands, her voice a purr. "Just hold onto your kitty."

You obey, your arms locking around her neck, pulling her chest flush against yours. As she continues the slow, grinding pace, Yuma begins to nuzzle into you.

She rubs her sensitive little kitty ears against your chest, the soft fur brushing against your skin as she chases that specific feeling. She loves—no—she's fucking obsessed with your chest—the scent of your skin, the way your heart hammers against your ribs—and she rubs her head against you with a needy intensity, purring so loudly that you can feel the vibration in your own lungs.

"You're so soft… so fucking perfect," she whimpers, her dominance momentarily flickering into raw, desperate need. "nghhh—fuck—n-need to be inside you forever, oh fuckkkk…."

The friction of the vibrating strap combined with the slow, deep penetration is too much. You start to shake, your internal muscles clamping tight around her strap, which only makes Yuma groan and push deeper, her hips grinding in a circular motion that hits every single nerve ending.

"That's it… take it all," she whispers, her breath hot against your neck. "You're going to break for me again, aren't you, pretty girl?"

Yuma picks up the pace just slightly, the vibrations intensifying as she finds the sweet spot, hammering into you with a sudden, possessive urgency—a predator claiming her prize. Her tail wraps firmly around your waist once more, ensuring that every thrust is felt to the fullest.

"Cum for me, pretty girl."

The build-up is excruciating, a coil of tension that snaps with violent force. You scream her name, your body arching off the bed as a massive, toe-curling orgasm rips through you. It's the most intense release of the night, an explosion that leaves you sobbing and breathless.

As you peak, Yuma lets out a long, guttural cry, her own body shuddering violently. The release of your climax, combined with the intense stimulation of the vibrator, finally breaks the fever of her heat. She collapses on top of you, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart racing in sync with yours.

She stays there for a long time, her face buried in the crook of your neck, her purring slowing down to a contented, sleepy thrum. The heat has broken, leaving her spent and soft, her possessive grip turning into a tender embrace.

"My good girl," she murmurs, licking a stray tear from your cheek. "Mine. All mine." You feel her words sink into your skin like ink, you're her favourite poem after all.

Afterward, when she's sated and drowsy, Yuma grooms you—licking your shoulder, your cheek, your knuckles, smoothing down your hair with careful fingers. It's her way of saying mine, mine, mine, and you let her, because you are.

And you always will be.

For all nine lives.

fin.

A/N: fem yuma have my heart soul and pussy im finally freeing you from my drafts i hope this will keep you guys fed till i lock in for deer euijoo yay which is probably going to be never because i am highly dead and wish to sink into my bed never to arise again BUT we have fics to complete so we're not doing that

divider by @kodaswrld

&team taglist: @eu1joo @7yataki @frenchkisstheabyss @yumangel @nichozzystuffs @blueuijoo @pglpblm @ikigaijo @antonh0lic @dearvampyr @riri4andy @tokunodoll @sunsoomi @makizdoll @solairemelo @cece0710 @/someonerandom909 @saturnsfae @cottonauroras @kpoplover-00005 + Shoot me an ask or comment to be added!

You love your life. 

You love that you can wake up whenever you want, and that you have no set schedule to live by. The only deadlines you have to worry about are the ones you make for yourself. You love your beautiful apartment that you didn’t need anyone else’s help to get, and that it is so close to everything in the city. You love not worrying about money anymore. You get to live however you deem fit, taking life one day at a time. Everything in your life is by your own design. Honestly? It’s a dream. 

And it’s easy money, giving men a fantasy for the night. 

That’s what you sell, the idea of you. In everyday life, you don’t pout nearly as much as you do on camera, nor do you talk as sweetly to strangers. Some of them, though, aren’t strangers to you anymore. You recognize their usernames and their donations, especially the ones who have been fans of yours since you started, and the ones who pay for your highest tiered subscription. Twenty-five dollars a month just to jerk off to your exclusive content. Ah, men. 

Your fanbase has grown and grown, skyrocketing somewhat recently when you convinced Yeosang, your hot guy friend, to join you in one of your videos. He’d worn a face mask to protect his identity, but it had been so obvious that he’s attractive even with it on. The black tank top left little to the imagination as your audience watched the muscles in his arms flex as his strong hands fingered you over and over again while he talked you through each orgasm. It was a rather simple video, with no actual sex. Regardless, that became one of your most viewed videos even though it was an exclusive, and the video that ended up paying for this apartment. Men and women alike scrambled to type in their credit card information to see it, boosting not only your ego, but your bank account as well. You gave Yeosang a decent sized chunk of your earnings, seeing as he was in the video too.  

His whole face had turned red when you showed him the number of views, hiding behind his hands for good measure. He’s always been shy, it was a damn miracle you even got him to do it in the first place. 

Since then, you’ve been living quite comfortably. Yeosang, too. Despite your efforts to convince him to create his own account for people to subscribe to, he’s maintained his ‘innocence’. However, recently he’s been asking you more and more about the details and dynamics of running an account like yours. You’re almost afraid to jinx it, like if you ask him outright if he’s thinking about it, he’ll forget the whole thing and never do it. Who are you to potentially accidentally deny the general paying population of your hot friend? 

He may become even more popular than me, you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

You glance at your laptop, its camera trained at a specific angle towards your empty bed, and you peek at how many people are waiting for your livestream to start. Friday nights are always good to pull in larger crowds, and tonight is no different. 

Nine hundred, and climbing. 

Whoa.

You let out a low whistle at the number, the highest you’ve ever seen it just for the amount of people waiting. You’re not even due to start for another ten minutes. The number shifts around a couple times, losing some, and gaining more every minute. For the first time in a while, you start to feel a little self-conscious. This newfound fame is still just that: new. Even though you can’t see the audience you’ve gathered, you still feel that there are nine hundred pairs of eyes on you in your bedroom. There’s a nervous flutter in your chest that you can’t seem to shake off in the dwindling minutes before your stream begins. 

With only two minutes left, you flit around your room, double checking how you look in your mirror, fixing your hair and makeup, and adjusting one of the straps to the lingerie you picked out for the evening. You sit prettily on the bed, taking a few moments before you start to center yourself, taking deep breaths and focusing on getting your head clear for tonight’s performance. 

A ‘performance’ is basically all it is.   

Your fingers hover over the trackpad of your laptop, counting down the seconds until there are none left, and you click “Go Live”. 

As usual, you allow about ten seconds to go by, waiting for more to join once they get the notification that the stream has started. You read the sudden influx of chat, smiling when you see familiar usernames and knowing that rent will be covered for the next couple of months, just by their presence here. If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask for it. Someone in the chat will gladly donate however much you need – and then some – just for the chance to hear you read their username and thank them in your sweet voice. 

So easy.  

You saturate your greeting with honey, looking up into the laptop camera, eyes round and innocent. 

“Hi, everyone,” you sing, giggling for all of the people vying for your attention. Each comment is sent with the hope that you’ll read it out. Some send tips already, small amounts mostly in the single digits, but there are a couple of doubles sent your way already. The tip counter in the upper corner of the screen increases steadily with each donation as they come. Compliments, questions, requests, and general niceties move up the screen in a constant staccato, making room for the next. 

You lean back on your hands, pretending that you don’t know what you’re doing with this angle. The camera is angled down, providing an almost perfect POV shot for the audience. The fantasy begins immediately. You uncross your legs, feigning shyness. 

“My day was okay, thank you,” you purr, knowing you just made someone nearly cream their pants by answering their question. “But… I’ve just been so lonely.” 

You pout, right on cue to accompany your words. Instantly, the comment section floods with volunteers to cure you of your loneliness. Each one promises they can fix it, that they’ll be there for you, that they’ll never leave. It’s flattering, but none of them really mean it. Maybe they think they do, but again none of them really know you. You doubt most of them want to get to the very root of you and figure you out. No, most if not all just want to get into your pants to say that they have. Bragging rights. 

[user75846] will yeo be joining you?

You read the comment aloud, shaking your head in quiet defeat. “No, it’s just me tonight.” 

Some comments beg for his return, others are happy that it’s just you – the jealous types – and the rest are simply impatient to see your body. Your hand trails across the hem of your flimsy, sheer tank top you chose to wear for the evening. It leaves little to the imagination. The quiet pinging of more money being donated motivates you further. You sigh, looking up into the camera again. 

“I’ve been so sad and lonely all day… you guys will help me, right?” 

You pull your shirt down just a little more, showcasing your cleavage while keeping your face as innocent as possible. The comments spike again, but you don’t pay attention to them anymore. Your hand travels farther up to your mouth, fingers threatening to slip between your glossy lips. Twelve hundred people watch and wait. You hum, parting your lips slightly but not quite giving them the visual they want. Not yet. There’s no rush – not for you, at least. But one comment catches your eye because of its impatience.   

[mntn3000]: start.

Very blunt. You don’t recognize the username as one of your regulars or subscribers. Whoever this is must be new. You’ve run and maintained a rather strict program with your subscribers when it comes to what they say in the live chat – politeness being one of the main rules. The lack of a ‘please’ to sweeten the demand nearly twists your face into something less angelic. Maybe whoever this user is is already close, unable to finish his sentence before he finishes himself. You bet once you take your shirt off he’ll blow his load and leave. It happens. For now, you’ll have fun with him. Teach this newcomer some manners. 

You dip your fingers in, tongue peeking out to greet them into your mouth. The amount of comments slows just a little, silently telling you that some of your viewers are beginning to work themselves up along with you. 

“Oh dear… ‘mntn3000’ just said ‘start’. No ‘please’? Will someone let him know how this works?” You keep your voice sugary, making sure everyone knows you aren’t hurt or being stuck-up, but that you’re rather amused at the comment. 

Almost immediately, upon request, you see one of your regulars tag the newcomer in a message explaining the chat rules. 

“Thank you, Woo,” you hum, lifting your shirt up even more, just for him, to show your gratitude. Your hand lingers near your breast, a small shudder running through your body as you graze your nipple. 

‘Woo’, your nickname for him from his username, has become somewhat of an anonymous friend to you. He’s subscribed to your highest level tier and the VIP extras that you offer, including private shows and a group chat on Discord. He’s always the first to step in if someone says something out of line or disrespectful in any way. Your own personal guard dog. 

Whoever he is, ‘mntn3000’ doesn’t say anything to Woo’s message. 

Fourteen hundred people now. 

You hum again, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You love the attention. And after doing a rough estimate in your head how much money you’ll make tonight, it just makes you want to put on an even better show. 

“If you want something…” you purr, taking your shirt off completely. The comments erupt. “Ask nicely~” you tease, giggling to yourself.

A donation pops up immediately, the sum of which nearly makes you gape.   

[mntn3000] has donated $500 

Well… that’s certainly nice. 

[mntn3000]: start, kitten

That’ll do it. 

You’re quick to control your reaction to the generous donation. However, now you can’t help but feel like you’re performing under pressure. Some of your other patrons comment on it, but you’re on autopilot now. 

One more deep breath in and your tight little shorts soon join your shirt on the floor. 

You exhale audibly, turning the breath into a quiet moan as your hand continues to explore your own body. This time, you don’t tease when your fingers come back up to your mouth, accepting them immediately. Your free hand finds its way to your neglected chest, kneading the warm skin. It’s easy to pretend that the touch belongs to someone else’s manipulation. 

It’s more than just a little confusing for you to immediately imagine it’s Yeosang, if not friendship-wise. The two of you have mutually agreed that you’re platonic. The collaboration was just… a friend helping a friend. Moreso than the views and money you earned from it, you’re thankful that there is no awkwardness between you two in the aftermath of it. When you had switched the camera off, he had even joked about graduating to another level of friendship, or something like that. You can’t remember exactly right now, you’re a bit preoccupied. 

You pry your eyes open to read the chat, wanting to know if they’re enjoying the view so far. 

[user92834]: i keep expecting yeo to show up ㅠㅠ  i miss him

You whine, only able to nod once or twice. “I miss Yeo, too.” 

Now you’re playing with fire. Multiple people in the chat remind you of their personal favorite parts of that video, giving you a much needed visual to get yourself off. Is it wrong? To use memories of your best friend ‘platonically’ overstimulating you for the better part of an hour? Maybe. You think you just need to get laid soon. Admittedly, it’s been rather long since you have been. Longer than most of your viewers will ever believe.  

“I wish someone was here to help me,” you blink slowly into the camera, pouting again. 

Your artificial patheticness is like a siren call to these men. It seems that every single one of your viewers suddenly comes alive, flooding the chat and your donations box all at once, each claiming that they should be the one to help you next time. That they have what it takes. 

Except one. 

You haven’t seen that ‘mntn3000’ guy’s username pop up since he sent the generous donation earlier. You wonder if he’s still watching. Maybe he’s embarrassed from earlier. 

Whatever. He’s more likely just another background viewer. You probably won’t hear from him again. 

Pushing the thought away, you start to finally trail your hand down your stomach to lightly circle your clit. Your hooded eyes flicker up to the screen, making sure everything’s in view. Satisfied with what you see, you resume touching yourself, continuing to loudly suck on your fingers for good measure. 

[user82392] has donated $5

[user01743] has donated $20

[puppyu.u] has donated $50

[mars9843] has donated $50 

[puppyu.u] has donated $100

You can’t help but smile, watching the silent competition between your viewers. Every time someone ups the amount they’re willing to drop on you, there’s dozens more who are willing to match it. You feel like you’re at auction. Who will win in the end? Usually, it’s one of your regulars, the ones with access to the private Discord, who come out on top. You’re betting on ‘puppyu.u’ tonight. He seems like he has something to prove. 

No one’s quite willing to match ‘mntn3000’’s five hundred dollar starting offer just yet. 

You get the feeling that everyone who regularly competes here silently agrees to just… ignore it. Everyone here spoils you, of course. But dropping five hundred dollars straight out the gate is a blatant power move that seems intent to undermine most of the others in here in one fell swoop. 

But he’s quiet now. Maybe he spent all he had in one go. It happens sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes. 

You’re not sure why you’re so hung up on this random user. You’re not used to being caught off guard like this. Closing your eyes so no one can see you roll them, you decide to not think about him anymore. 

And you have just the thing for it. 

While they spend money to achieve imagined dominance over the others in the chat, you reach just offscreen to grab your favorite dildo. It’s a fan-favorite as well. You scoot a little farther back on the bed, finally taking your fingers out of your mouth and replacing it with the head of the dildo. You sigh around it, like you’re content, grateful to have something in your mouth again. In reality, this is just so that it goes inside of you easier.   

This time, you don’t make them wait. 

The blunt head of the toy slips inside easily, and you fight to keep your head up so everyone can see your reaction to it. Halfway in, you give up. Head back, a visible shudder runs through your body that has the donation notifications ringing like crazy. Around this point in your little show, you’ll pay less and less attention to the chat, only focusing on the pleasure you’re creating for yourself. 

But this time, something’s off. 

No matter what you do, you can’t seem to find that specific angle that makes you cum. Not even playing with your clit seems to be any help. You try to relax, to see if maybe you’re too tense to feel anything, but it’s quite hard to relax when you’re this frustrated already. You’re not about to let the audience know that, but it’s discouraging. You don’t like to lie, but again, it’s all part of a performance. A fake, tailored show to sell a fantasy version of you. The one who always comes for whoever is watching, the one who is just so insatiable for each individual person watching.  

At one point, you obtain false hope. You hit an angle that nearly does it for you, getting you closer than you were before to that sweet edge. It’s so close you can almost taste it, quickening your pulse and electrifying every vein in your body. There’s an ache in your wrist that is starting to become strained and uncomfortable, and your eyebrows furrow together to try and maybe will an orgasm into existence. And yet the payoff evades you completely.  

You make a sharp, high-pitched noise out of frustration, which hopefully comes across as ecstacy instead. You’re not even enjoying it anymore, and your hand begins to slow down the pumps of the dildo as your fake moans increase again. There’s a trick you know to make your legs look like they’re realistically shaking from an orgasm – learned by ego-boosting one too many failed relationships and one night stands in the past – and you use it now. 

Ugh. 

The toy slips out of you, and you blearily toss it next to you on the bed. You let the audience watch the slowing rise and fall of your chest as your breaths even out. 

What the fuck was that? You think to yourself, tilting your head back to hide your look of confusion. You’re kind of nervous to look at what people are saying in the chat, worried that they somehow caught onto the fact that you faked it. Without any proof, you conjure up images of cancellation, accusations, name-calling, every possible and yet unrealistic bad thing that could potentially happen. 

Steeling yourself as best you can, you straighten and take a look at the chat. 

All worries melt away at once as soon as you notice the heart emojis that flood the comment section. You’re not sure when this started, nor do you know who began the trend, but it has turned into something similar to applause at the end of a stream. A cute signal that they enjoyed the show. You smile at the screen, even laughing a little from relief. Time and time again, you’re proven to be loved no matter what. 

There are a few more donations, although they’ve slowed down now that you’re done. You push your hair back, taking the time to slowly breathe in and out as you read the comments. Most of them tell you how hard you made them bust, which earns you a few more dollars. Still, there’s one username you’re stuck on that you’re not seeing. Not yet. You hope you’re not being obvious, waiting for it to reappear. Maybe with some manners and patience this time. Your eyes stay locked on the corner of the screen.

It’s after you blow a puff of air up towards your hair to move it out of your face that he reappears. Maybe your impatience was received loud and clear to him. 

He only sends one word. Four letters. 

[mntn3000]: cute 

[mntn3000] has donated $1000

[mntn3000] has left the stream

Huh. Your spinning head almost registers that. A good thing about streaming is that you’re not exactly on a time limit. You can take as much time as you need to to calm down and regroup before addressing your audience again. Most will leave during this time, and that’s alright too. Your devoted viewers will stay, still seeking out your attention, praise, and appreciation. You always thank them for watching and of course, donating. 

“There’s thousands of others you could have spent your time with tonight, so thank you for choosing me. I hope I made it worth it.” 

In the middle of catching your breath, you manage a small grin into the camera. With a whispered, ‘goodnight’, and a kiss blown straight to your audience, you end the live and flop backwards on your bed. Another job well done. Another year of rent earned. 

You force yourself to move after five minutes, showering, changing into new, comfier clothes and taking your makeup off in the bathroom until it’s just you in the mirror, and not the character. It’s not until you’re brushing your teeth that you realize how tired you are from that live, nearly drifting off with the toothbrush still in your mouth. Head about to hit the wall, you jerk back to stand upright and finish up quickly. You can practically hear your bed calling your name.   

A text from Yeosang lights up your phone, halfway buried underneath a pillow. You pull it out and stand by your bed to read it. 

[yeoyeo🌻]: another successful day at the office?

You can’t help but grin, burying yourself under the covers and texting him back quickly. 

[y/n🌸]: another small fortune 🥱

[yeoyeo🌻]: still wanna hang out tomorrow?

[yeoyeo🌻]: or is the princess too tired 

[y/n🌸]: stfu 😂

[y/n🌸]: yes pls i miss you :( 

[yeoyeo🌻]: fine fine 

[yeoyeo🌻]: i’ll be over at noon 

[yeoyeo🌻]: you better be awake -.- 

[y/n🌸]: goodnight pretty boy!

[yeoyeo🌻]: 🖕🏻

[yeoyeo🌻]: goodnight 

Exiting the messages app, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your laptop from its perch, keen on transferring your earnings into your bank account as soon as possible. Luckily, the site you use makes it rather easy, just a click of a button, but this time around, you take a second to look at the number in the corner. 

$14,601. 

You whistle lowly at the sight of it. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars for thirty minutes of ‘work’. If you spend and save wisely, you’ll never have to set foot in an office for as long as you live. 

Laptop set aside for the time being, you make a mental note to try and fit in some pilates tomorrow morning before Yeosang comes over. There are certain things you try to do to maintain your beauty and health, especially if the rewards look like this number. The sore muscles, cutting off sugar, and time spent trying to match your wing eyeliner are worth it. Almost… you do miss sugar quite a bit and are prone to cheat if tempted.  

You quickly do the math in the calculator app to see how exponentially your bank account is about to grow once the transfer is complete. The total makes you smile ear to ear. Already, you’re thinking of more ideas, ways to keep everyone interested… but also… maybe a vacation. A first class flight to anywhere in the world seems more than desirable. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask Yeosang if he’d like to come too. The thought excites you, making you want to stay up and look at potential destinations. 

Closing out of the calculator and banking apps, you’re just about to go on TikTok to look through your ‘dream vacay’ folder, when a notification directs your eyes upward. It’s from your email, but it's no promotional message from one of the many stores you shop at, nor is it spam. 

The sender is simply ‘H.J Kim’, accompanied by three words in the subject line: ‘Exclusive Collaboration Offer’. 

That certainly piques your interest, although it could just be a scam. Since you don’t have an agent, you’ve learned the hard way how to filter out those who just wish to take your hard-earned – well… earned – money away from you. When you were just starting out, you had to change numerous passwords more than once. You’re on a first-name-basis with your bank. Usually, you ignore emails like this, but something draws you to it. In what you can see of the preview, the sender doesn’t use more words than he has to, and the word choice seems rather official. Not as scammy as you’re used to. 

Hesitant, but intrigued at what this offer could possibly entail, you click on it to see what the rest of the email says.

__________________________

Dear Miss Y/N, 

I hope you are doing well. My name is Kim Hongjoong and I am a Talent Agent with Afterdark Productions, representing Choi San. We have been admiring your work for a while now, and would love to extend an offer for a collaboration between the two of you. 

If accepted, I will be more than happy to disclose more information regarding the details of the shoot as well as beginning the process of arranging transportation and accommodation. Please feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, and I will respond as quickly as I can. 

Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to the possibility of working together. 

Sincerely, 

Kim Hongjoong 

Talent Agent, Afterdark Productions

[email protected]  

__________________________

You sit up, suddenly needing more air. 

Choi San. 

Just his name makes your thighs clench together under the plush comforter.

You make a noise somewhere between an exhalation and a laugh of disbelief. You reread it a couple more times, making sure you’re reading it correctly. There’s simply no way someone like Choi San knows you exist, and if he does, then how? Sure, you’re gaining popularity on cam platforms, but you didn’t think the industry on the other side of the coin would take notice. Maybe you’ve just been naive. It’s essentially the same thing but without a script or team involved. You do everything yourself — the lights, the camera, the action. The idea of even attempting what ‘Afterdark’ is known for is quite daunting. The thought of potentially meeting San even more so. 

Everyone knows Choi San. 

Somewhat of a respected micro-celebrity, he is currently revolutionizing the stigma around adult videos and being an adult actor. Breaking stereotypes, barriers, and backs. Impressive. It also helps that he has adonis-like features and a smile that can universally melt hearts. Very helpful, indeed. 

It’s still not fully clicking that you’ve been offered a chance to work with him. Not yet. Most likely, it’ll hit you in the morning when you check your phone for the millionth time, making sure you didn’t just dream this all up in a post-orgasmic haze. Each time you reread it, the words stay the same. The name jumps out at you. 

“Fuckin’ hell…” you whisper, pressing your palm to your mouth, reading the email over just one more time. That’s what you tell yourself anyway. 

A collaboration… you assume that means on his turf. On his side of the industry, anyway. Your mouth dries. Are you even up for this? 

A visual learner all your life, you find yourself opening a private browser and looking up a porn site you know has posted a couple of San’s videos. For research. Literally. Your thought process is to refresh your memory, imagine yourself in the actress’ place and discern whether or not you think you can handle what this offer entails. You pick the very first result after you enter his name in the search box, and settle back against your pillows, nervously biting your nails as the video begins. 

It starts off like many others of its kind, a flashy montage of what’s to come – pun unfortunately intended – to entice viewers to keep watching. You skip ahead, like many do, not caring for whatever ‘plot’ has been thrown together to justify why these two hot people are sleeping together this time. Although, from the clips you do see as the video jumps ahead, inching closer to the real action, you have to admit he’s a decent actor. You stop skipping through it towards the end of their conversation, landing at the proposition and steadily rising scripted passion. 

San steps closer to the actress, really getting into her space, and holding eye contact the whole time. The type that would make any girl melt. It’s not fiery or intimidating, no, it’s something much worse. 

Desire. 

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, too focused on how his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer. What startles you is how… almost vulnerable he looks. Attentive. His head tilted down slightly, looking at her through his eyelashes, enchanting her so effortlessly as his hands gently wander. You cross an arm over your chest, eyes still fixated on the phone screen. You’re getting affected this much just watching him look at her like that? How the hell will you possibly be able to handle it in real life? The short answer is: you probably won’t. 

Because the next time you skip, impatience gnawing at you to just see and know what he does, you’re thrown right into the fray. 

The camera is almost cinematic, capturing precise angles where everything can be seen, the lighting low and sensual. They’re on a large bed, and San has taken the time to place one of the pillows under her head as well as her hips. A blindfold covers the actress’ eyes, but you can tell right away she’s been steadily crying through the fabric. Her hands tighten in his hair, his mouth latches onto one of her breasts, and his hand between her legs where quiet, constant, wet sounds are being drawn from. Still, he looks earnest. Genuine. Like he cares about her pleasure, and wants to make sure she’s getting just as much out of this experience as he will. At this point, you’re sure the script is thrown out the window, because the way he talks to her, so soft and sincere, praising her closer and closer to the edge, is something that no scriptwriter could come up with. No, this was pure San. 

When she’s close, she tells him immediately and he changes nothing. He whispers the same praises, keeps his hand at the same pace and angle, reaching deep and curling up over and over, coaxing her body to release. The automated subtitles are no help, so you turn the volume up just a bit more, so you can hear him clearly. He must’ve been edging her because she starts begging him, trying to not pull his hair out at the roots. He simply covers her mouth with a free hand and leans over her, giving her permission to let go for him. 

She shudders violently, thighs pressing into the sides of his body to prevent him from moving. He's not going anywhere, though. That infamous dimpled smile appears as he watches her come undone beneath him. 

Your thighs clench. That’d be you. 

His voice drifts languidly from your laptop speakers, melting your brain even further. “Yes, baby, that’s it. There you go… such a good girl.” 

A girlish squeal gets stuck in your throat and you press your lips together to ensure you don’t let it out. You haven’t even said yes yet. There could be conditions you don’t agree with, payment arguments. He could be an asshole for all you know. Or this could all be a very elaborate and convincing scam. 

Still, just in case it is real, and for the sake of ‘research’, you keep watching. 

He kisses her chest, slowly making his way up her throat, her jaw, until he reaches her lips. He takes his sweet time, like he knows no one would dare look away. She sighs into his mouth, quiet whimpers leaving her every so often while he gently rubs her clit, just enough to keep her stimulated as she gets used to the feeling of being empty once again. You wonder what it’s like to kiss him. Your hands itch to reach for your phone and text Yeosang to tell him everything, however, you’re rather busy holding them still at the moment.  

You appreciate how he doesn’t move onto the next thing immediately. Too many times have you seen other actors in his industry not giving their partner a bit of a breather after such an intense orgasm. Granted, some may like that, the overwhelming and constant stimulation, but the way San allows her to take her time, silently encourages her to follow the deeper rhythm of his breathing, and how he holds her hand and places slow, soft kisses all over her body, it all adds up to make you crave a slower pace. An intimate interaction like this. 

San checks in with her quietly, and with a nod from her and another peck on the lips, he’s positioning himself between her legs. Stars in her eyes, she reaches down and strokes his length, whimpering softly. He gently brushes her hair back, admiring the look of nervous anticipation on her face. When he finally pushes inside, the two of them moan at the same time. Buried the way in, he smiles down at her before kissing her deeply. All dimples. A broken moan of his name tumbles from her lips, and you’re almost sure she didn’t realize she even said anything. She’s staring up at him like he’s a deity. Like he’s come down from heaven just for her. And she’s not acting. 

One thing you know for sure: you’d be stupid to decline the offer. 

You consider your mind made up. 

Reluctantly exiting the video, saving it for later, you reopen your email app. Part of you wonders whether or not two in the morning is an appropriate time to email someone, but another part of you simply doesn’t care. It’ll be in Mr. Kim Hongjoong’s inbox first thing when he wakes up tomorrow. Your reply is enthusiastic yet professional, expressing appreciation for the offer in the first place. You thank him and San for taking notice of you and offer praise of his work as well. Wrapping up with the same politeness the original sender used, you sign off with your name. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a minute before adding a kiss emoji to the side of your name. Before you can second guess that choice, you send it off. 

Needing to expel some of these nerves, you get up out of bed to scavenge your fridge for a well-past-midnight snack. Maybe yogurt or something. Standing in the white light of the fridge, you realize food may not be the best choice. Nothing jumps out at you to want at two o’clock in the morning, stomach already doing flips and tricks as it is. You settle on a mini carton of strawberry milk that you may or may not finish and walk back to bed a little too fast. Quicker than your usual leisurely pace. 

You glance at your phone, laying face down on your bed like what you just watched on it made it shy. You want to text Yeosang so badly, to get his take on all of this, but you should let him sleep. Just because your sleep schedule is fucked doesn’t mean you have to ruin his as well. Your fingers absentmindedly tap the carton, only two sips deep in your drink. Hm. 

You’re just starting to flirt with the idea of calling Yeosang anyway when you get a notification that effectively snaps you out of your thought spiral. Whoever or whatever it is has just unknowingly saved Yeosang’s REM cycle. 

Not expecting a response so soon, your eyes widen a bit when you see that you’ve gotten a response back already. The quickness makes you a little wary. Scams usually are quick to respond back too. 

Or, this ‘Hongjoong’ guy may have a sleep schedule quite like yours. After all, you responded rather quickly to his first email. 

__________________________

Hi Miss Y/N, 

Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer. 

The next steps in moving forward are rather simple. I will ask you to fill out a form – which I have linked to this e-mail – and send that at your earliest convenience. It is your basic questionnaire, really, and a chance for us to get to know you as well as your preferences for the shoot and scene. 

 After you have sent that and we go over it, I would like to meet with you – either in person or through video call – for both our safety and to finalize all arrangements. If you choose to meet in person, I will gladly bring along a female member of my team in an effort to make you feel more comfortable and safe.  

As always, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Looking forward to hearing from you again. 

-Kim Hongjoong 

Talent Agent, Afterdark Productions

[email protected]  

| Attachment: 1 File

__________________________

‘We’, he wrote. 

‘We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.’ 

At first, you assumed he was just referencing the production company, but the specific use of it catches and holds your attention. Did San… ask for this collab to happen? Scrolling up to reread it again, the second line of the first e-mail you were sent strikes you: ‘We have been admiring your work for a while now…’ Not just the company. ‘We’ as in… 

You swallow hard, setting the strawberry milk on your nightstand and shrinking back against your pillows again. Your phone burns your eyes in the dark, but you can’t stop reading this new message. There’s so much to unpack, even though it’s so straightforward. As of right now, in regards to meeting with Kim Hongjoong, you’re leaning towards just a video call. You’re still not quite totally convinced this isn’t an elaborate prank of some kind. Maybe a weird fan who wants this to happen but there’s no truth to it. But again… you don’t get that vibe. Not from how professional this seems. And a crazy fan wouldn’t offer to bring along another woman to make you feel more comfortable, he’d insist on meeting alone, under the guise of ‘protecting our privacy’. 

And if it is real… then it is really happening. Moving forward, as the talent agent said, a collaboration in the early stages of planning. With Choi San. 

Dammit, Yeosang, why can’t you be awake right now, you think and you huff dramatically, burying your face in your hands. He’ll certainly get an earful of all of this tomorrow afternoon.   

But you decide you need to talk this through to somebody right now. Or some people. 

Even though you just went live, you’re quick to open your Discord app, not even bothering to send a warning message to tell your exclusive members that you’re going live again. This time, just for them. You know they’ll come. They always do. 

Once you have your laptop adjusted and headphones on, you’re ready to go. You click the microphone button and wait.  

As expected, four of them join immediately. You regularly wonder how they’re all able to drop everything to watch you, no matter what time you go live. Two others join soon after, but they rarely comment in the chat. Silent viewers with open wallets are never unwelcome here. 

“Hi guys! I have big news,” you smile into the camera, reading all the messages as they pop up. 

[woogoesthere]: tell ussssssss!!!!!

[fix0nmi]: 👀?

[mars9843]: what is it cutie?

[puppyu.u]: hi baby why the secret meeting?? 👀

You take a minute to let them get all their guesses out, increasing their desperation to know what you’re hiding from them. Hopefully they’ll take the news well. As far as you can tell, none of them specifically come across as the parasocial jealous type, but you don’t know for certain. However, they seemed to handle your previous collab with Yeosang pretty well. That gives you some more confidence to confide in them about this. 

“I’ve been offered to do a collab with someone from…” You pause before saying the company name for dramatic effect. “Afterdark.”

You’re a little surprised by the lack of comments right away, even worried a little. The thought of them being the parasocial jealous type crosses your mind again. Especially Woo. For a split second, you worry that you may have just angered your most loyal – and charitable – fans. The abrupt absence makes your heart plummet to your stomach. 

It takes a full minute before anyone says anything. The longest minute of your whole life. 

[woogoesthere]: are u telling us ur collabing w choi san?!!??!?!?! :0

Leave it to Woo to ease any worry you may have. You mask your relieved exhale under a light laugh. 

“Should I be worried?” you half joke. 

The immediate responses in the comments are overwhelming and collective:

[puppyu.u]: yes!!!!!! 

[mars9843]: be afraid, be very afraid 

[fix0nmi]: he’s gonna wreck you lmao 

[fix0nmi]: icw to watch 🤪

[puppyu.u]: same 😭😏😭

[mars9843]: if you could barely handle yeo………

Your confident smile fades slightly, the corners of your mouth dropping back down as you read the multiple comments confirming what you’ve been wondering. 

[woogoesthere]: guys stop ur gonna scare her ㅠㅠ

You try to laugh it off, looking off camera to grab your strawberry milk again. The action gives your hands something to do as worry begins to settle in your chest. Of course, Woo tries to ease your growing anxieties in the chat as you lift the bottle to your lips, eyes still scanning the messages… or rather, the warnings. 

[puppyu.u]: well it’s true 

[woogoesthere]: we should be encouraging tho >:( 

[fix0nmi]: yeah or else she won’t do it 👀

[mars9843]: … 

[mars9843]: y/n we’re just kiddinggggg

[fix0nmi]: you’ll be fine~! >:) 

[woogoesthere]: -.- 

[puppyu.u]: drink lots of water beforehand! 

[woogoesthere]: you pervs are so annoying

“I can do it!” You try to regain your previous confidence. 

A shroud of doubt begins to creep up over your shoulders, weighing you down. You’re able to hide it well, but you go quiet. Quieter than usual when you’re live. You don’t like silences that last too long. Unfortunately, your sudden silence is noticeable. 

[puppyu.u]: babyyyyyy 

[puppyu.u]: don’t listen to us we’re just teasing 

[fix0nmi]: haha sorry baby

[mars9843]: you’re gonna be great, pretty girl 

[fix0nmi]: can’t wait to see it ;) 

[woogoesthere]: you ARE gonna be great

[woogoesthere]: choi san has no idea what an honor this is fr ㅠㅠ

That last message brings your smile back, tugging at the corners of your mouth until you give into it. ‘Woo’ is right. You have to remember who the fuck you are. Choi San sought you out specifically. There’s no need to be nervous about anything. It’s a different side of an industry that you’re already accustomed to, that’s all. You just have to adapt to however it operates for one day, and if you hate it, you’ll never have to do it again. And hey, you’ll get to say you’ve had that first and only experience with San of all people. 

What a debut. 

Your loyal fans must notice the confidence boost you’re experiencing because they’re quick to praise it in the chat. 

[fix0nmi]: there she is :) 

[woogoesthere]: ugh ur too cute 

[puppyu.u]: fr that bastard has no idea how lucky he is ㅠㅠ

[mars9843]: he better be nice to u >:( 

“Aww, you guys are so sweet,” you giggle softly, enjoying their attention and their praises. Your nerves are somewhat settled for the time being, though you can’t promise they won’t return once you open your eyes tomorrow morning. You wonder what Yeosang will say about it. 

Leaning back against your headboard, you exhale deeply – maybe even adding a little hint of a whine-like noise to keep them entertained. ‘Pervs’, as ‘Woo’ put it, indeed. Not that you minded. 

You hum to yourself and mention how much better they’ve made your night, and they eat it up. 

“Thank you all for your love and support. Truly.”    

You talk with them for a while longer, reciprocating their interest in you by asking them about their days and what they’re doing tomorrow. One of the silent viewers goes offline, and you can’t say that you blame them – no one should still be awake at this hour. You’re not sure if you’ll fall asleep quickly after you log off, so maybe that’s why you linger here and continue to talk with them. The minutes continue to go by and you start to feel guilty for keeping them all up this late. You know it’s their choice to stay and talk, but still. Odds are that at least one of them has to be up early tomorrow morning. They won’t leave until you do. 

“I’m gonna go to bed, guys. Thank you for staying up and chatting with me.” You smile, watching all of their usernames simultaneously start typing again. 

[mars9843]: goodnight cutie

[fix0nmi]: night babe ;)

[woogoesthere]: aww have a good night jagi <333 

[puppyu.u]: sweet dreams baby <3

[puppyu.u]: <3333

You giggle, noticing ‘puppyu.u’’s competitiveness. Before ‘Woo’ can start a war to see how many 3’s they can add to their hearts, you quickly blow them all a kiss and end the call. 

The silence of your apartment comes back quickly. Naturally, so do your racing thoughts. You place your laptop on your nightstand and crawl back under the covers, hoping against hope that you can smother your thoughts with your pillow. 

Your phone vibrates against your thigh and you sneak a quick glance at it, half-expecting another e-mail, only to find a Venmo notification. It’s from Woo. Your exclusive members have the username of your ‘business’ Venmo account to send you money outside of cams, if they choose to. The message he attaches to the money makes you laugh: ‘i’m not losing to puppyu.u so easily. goodnight<333333333333’ 

Oh, man. 

Make that $14,751 now. 

You wince as you notice the time in the upper lefthand corner of your phone screen. Yeosang was very clear in his text: you better be awake by noon. Knowing how late you usually sleep until, it’s not looking good. Hoping it will help, you set several alarms on your phone. Surely one of them will wake you up. You switch your phone off, refusing to check it again until tomorrow morning. 

Without your phone to distract you though, all you do is replay that video you watched of San and that actress. The memory of it projects against your eyelids and you can’t look away. A shiver runs through you when you picture how his hands held her with such gentle strength, and the addictive moans he wasn’t afraid to let out. The same thought echoes until you finally fall asleep: that’ll be you.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

Against all odds, and seven missed alarms later, you manage to wake up – albeit, exhausted – around ten o’clock. Plenty of time before Yeosang is due to come over. 

After you eat breakfast, you decide to spend the morning researching San, watching more of his videos, listening to interviews, stalking his Instagram, anything you can find to get to know him better. Or at least, to get a better grasp on what you should expect. Hongjoong never clarified if it was going to be just you and him at this future meeting or you, him, and San. You want to be ready. 

From what you can find, you’ve come to the tentative conclusion that he appears smart, funny, well-traveled, and handsome. That last one is a given to anyone with eyes, though. It seems like he could’ve succeeded in any field of his choosing, but his candor is notoriously present and blunt whenever he gets asked why he’s gone into this profession: “I like sex. I happen to be good at it, so why not?” 

You get it. Easy money. 

His Instagram is mostly pictures of him in exotic locations. It seems you and him have dream destinations in mind for the future as well. Nine million followers strong – and counting – he has his comments turned off to them on every post. There is also no message option anywhere. He completely cuts himself off from being accessible. A part of you is a little jealous, but at the same time you like the closeness with your fans. It feels more intimate, it gives you a reason to be punctual and come back and care about what you do. Although some, like that ‘mntn3000’ guy, can sometimes be quite rude in the chat. You have your chat open to all, and your public Instagram is the complete opposite of San’s. Thirst traps, a highlight on your profile for song recommendations, and the ability to comment and message you. Not that you answer most of them. Most are gross, obnoxious, frankly misogynistic men who choose the most unhinged, disgusting words to express their… ‘desires’. You’re thankful for Woo and fans like him. Still… you find yourself wondering if you should limit your accessibility as well. Your popularity is rising. Maybe now is the time. 

You still find yourself looking for everything and anything that has to do with him online. Everyone wants to be him or be with him. One of those guys. Of course. 

You rest your head in your hands, groaning to no one in particular. After all the women he’s been with, you hope you can meet his expectations. A worthy costar. Same industry, different department. 

By the time Yeosang knocks on your door at a quarter past noon, your mind is so far away he has to call you to let him in. 

“Hey, sorry.” You apologize, ushering him in and locking the door behind him. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be awake,” he grins, making himself right at home on your couch. “Is going live for thirty minutes really all it takes to make you catatonic the rest of the day?” 

You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder as you sit down next to him. “Shut up, it’s not because of that. Well… not exactly.” 

Yeosang quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on, then. What’s up?” 

You pull out your phone, ready to show him the evidence to back up what you’re about to say. The original email is still unchanged as you glance down at it, which is encouraging. Another reminder that you didn’t make this all up in your head. It didn’t happen in a dream, there’s hard evidence staring you in the face. 

Well, now or never. Out with it. 

“I, um… I got an offer to work with Choi San.” Your voice toes the line between excitement and cautious optimism. If anyone’s opinion matters to you at all, it’s Yeosang’s. 

Yeosang’s eyebrows raise at the name. “Like… the Choi San?”

“The Choi San, yes.” You nod, confirming it’s exactly who he’s thinking about. 

Handing your phone over to him, email ready to be read by a fresh pair of eyes, you watch his reactions closely. You find yourself biting the side of your thumb nail, a habit you keep thinking you’ve grown out of, only to be proven wrong in times like these. 

Yeosang’s face is serious as he reads it. You can tell he’s searching for any indication of this being a scam first and foremost before he digests the rest of it. Finding no blatant or well-hidden tricks, he pays more attention to the general message.       

“Are you gonna do it?” He asks, handing your phone back to you. His voice holds some reservation to it that you clearly pick up on. You take no offense, though. He’s just worried about you. It’s more… public than you’re used to. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, answering him honestly. “I’ve done my research on him and already sent them an email back saying that I was interested and wanted to know more, but… do you think I should?”

You truly value his opinion. Yeosang has been such a good friend to you for the past couple of years. The two of you had met in your second year of college and became fast friends. When you moved to the city, about a year after he did, he helped you find your first apartment, got you a job, and checked in on you to make sure you knew you had a friend here. He made everything easier. He still does.  

Yeosang shrugs, “Doesn’t matter what I think. If you feel confident about doing it, then go for it. If something is telling you to not do it, then don’t.”

He makes it sound so easy. Should it be? 

“Yeah, but… I value your opinion.” You mumble, not outwardly saying what you’re thinking. But he reads your mind anyway. 

“Y/N, it’s not gonna change my view of you if you decide to do this. If I had a problem with my best friend being a mattress actress, I would’ve told you a long time ago. Y’know… before I collabed with you.” 

At this, you can’t help but laugh, knowing he’s right. A pressure you didn’t realize was weighing on you is alleviated off your shoulders, making you feel lighter. He grins as you let out a small sigh of relief, glad that he eased some of your worries. Now, to tease you about it. As best friends do. 

“I’m just worried that you won’t survive the experience,” Yeosang says dramatically, covering his eyes with his arm and sneaking a smile your way. 

“Stop, what do you mean?” You push him, playfully. 

“You said you researched him, right?” 

You nod, wondering where he’s going with this. Is there something you’ve missed? You feel like you’re the only one left out of a well-known inside joke. You try to think back to the videos you’ve seen of him. Sure, you haven’t watched his whole filmography, but nevertheless, you’d like to believe you know roughly what to expect of him when the day comes. 

“Did you watch the ones he’s done for ‘Fantasy’?” Yeosang smirks. 

You blink, trying to remember if you did. To be totally honest, you weren’t really paying much attention to which company was posting the videos. Just that San was in them. 

“I don’t know… maybe?” 

Yeosang shakes his head, already seeming to know the answer. “You’d know if you did,” he says definitively. “If you wanna know what he’s really capable of, watch some of those.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, frustrated that no one will just tell you what they’re talking about. You only have one guess, that it may be due to the fact that you’ve only ever been with two guys before. They each taught you the basics, but everything you bring to your livestreams, you learned all on your own. And it’s not like you’re clueless when it comes to the different kinds of sexual encounters one can experience. You’ve watched porn before – hell, you do a type of it for a living. So why does everyone keep underestimating you? What does San possibly do to make everyone think you won’t survive him? 

A part of you kind of doesn’t want to know. You don’t need to give your creeping self-doubt any more ammo. It had taken you a long time to beat it far back enough in your mind for it to not invade every time you hit a little snag in life. A resurgence would make you question everything, make you back out of this quickly. You don’t want that. No, you’re determined even more so now to see this through. To prove everyone wrong. More importantly, though, to prove it to yourself. 

“Sounds like he sought you out though,” Yeosang says. His words almost make you jolt. Not only do they pull you out of another spiral, it reinforces something you were thinking in passing last night. Maybe you aren’t reading too much into it after all. “Kinda seems like this Hongjoong guy and San are fans of yours.” 

You hide your face in your hands and groan, making Yeosang laugh at your rare display of shyness. It’s frustratingly unclear to you why the idea of him watching your content makes your cheeks burn so much. You’re obviously comfortable with people seeing your body and earning a profit from it, but you like the anonymity of the people watching. You simply don’t want to know. Perhaps it’s because he’s about to not be a faceless viewer anymore. Rather, a colleague of sorts. 

Also, in a way, you tend to view cam’ing as more… intimate than porn. The sole focus of the audience is on you. No fake plot, no costar, no distractions. Just you, reading the chat, and existing and getting off in real time. 

“Sounds like it,” you agree. “I must’ve done something he likes to pique his interest.” 

Yeosang shrugs, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Or he saw the collab and this is all just an elaborate ruse to get to me.” 

You’re grateful to relax enough to laugh again. “Oh, I bet.” You say, playing along. Though, part of you does wonder for a brief moment if San had watched the collab and that’s why he thought you’d be a good partner for his next project. It’s definitely plausible.    

“So,” Yeosang leans back against the couch, crossing his legs, “what do you have to do now?” 

Remembering the phone in your hand, you look down at it, visualizing that attachment Hongjoong sent you. Yet to be opened. “There’s a form I have to fill out, I think it’s some kind of consent form.” 

He nods, “Yeah, that’d make sense.” 

There’s a small silence between you that follows as he watches you stare down at your phone. You have the most recent email pulled up, analyzing it again. He watches you bite the inside of your cheek, a habit you have that comes up when you’re thinking a little too hard about something.  

“Do you want me to go through it with you?” He asks, though he thinks he knows what you’ll say. 

“No, I’ll do it myself. It’s gonna ask like… in depth questions,” you insinuate, almost shyly. 

Yeosang doesn’t press you on it, which you appreciate. But you know he’s probably thinking there’s not much he doesn’t know about you. After all, he was fingering you to high heaven in front of a camera only a week ago. Still, he doesn’t push your privacy or your boundaries. It’s one of the many things that makes you feel safe with him. 

Breezing past the subject, knowing you probably need to relieve some stress, he picks up one of the gaming controllers on your coffee table. 

“Rematch?” He asks, referring to a game of Mario Kart fairly won by you, though his opinion of the event is rather different. Something to do with you ‘innocently’ bumping into him, causing him to almost drop his controller, and giving you the lead in the race. His win streak is much cleaner than yours. 

“You’re on,” you agree, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as he scoots away from you on the couch. 

There’ll be no ‘accidents’ this time. But maybe you’ll think of something.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

The rest of the day is light. 

Little by little, the weight of uncertainty you feel fades into the background, instead transforming into unserious frustration as Yeosang beats you in Mario Kart six times in a row. You win the seventh round, but you highly suspect he let you. He had several speed boosts and red shells that would just disappear from his screen the next time you looked, wondering when he would fire one of those shells at you. 

You order in, opting to stay inside and just be lazy today, and the two of you eat on the couch. When the sun eventually starts to set late in the afternoon, he takes a nap while you scroll on your phone, half-watching a K-Drama on your TV. Neither of you bring up San or the form still laying in wait in your inbox again. He wakes up around eight o’clock, yawning and stretching as he gets up to go home – he mentions that he promised his friend he’d go out with him tonight. Though he extends the offer, and part of you does want to go, you decide to be responsible and take the night to go through the form with a somewhat clearer mind than last night or this morning.   

Almost as soon as Yeosang leaves, you’re back in bed and pulling everything up on your laptop. The attached file on the most recent email takes just a second to load, bringing you to a Google Form sheet, ready to be completed. 

But first, you think about what he said about San. You want to know what everyone else already seems to. At least one video. Just for research purposes again. 

In another tab on incognito mode, you hesitantly type in the search for ‘choi san redfantasy’ and bite the inside of your cheek as the page loads. The typical ads pop up before you’re able to see any actual content, avoiding the scams and viruses with practiced ease. Trying to not overthink it, you just click on the first video that comes up. In fact, you barely look at the title. It’s in all caps, a bunch of buzzwords and tags jammed together to get as many eyes on it as possible, but his name is always put first. That’s the seller right there. Audiences are in the market for Choi San. 

There is no plot this time, at least none that you can discern. The lighting is darker, as well as the mood. There’s less build up, the action begins almost straight away after the company logo screen fades away. 

Your chest constricts at the very first shot. A rather pretty woman, on her knees in the middle of a room. Her bare knees dig into the plush carpet beneath her and she looks up at the man in front of her, tilting her head up with a firm hand in her hair. 

San. 

“...didn’t you?” You barely hear him say to her, and you quickly turn up the volume on your laptop, rewinding the video ten seconds to hear the full question. 

“You misbehaved today, didn't you?” He purrs, nodding once to give her permission to speak. 

“Yes, sir.” She replies, obediently. 

The hand in her hair is taken away, and yet she never takes her eyes off of him. You imagine that’s probably what she was instructed to do… but you’re starting to think a director wasn’t involved in this. Everything seems more intimate, less corporate. Like San just set up a camera in this expensive looking hotel room. A step above amateur porn. 

San stalks around her, humming to himself as if sizing her up. The camera cuts to a slightly different angle, farther away, and you only just now realize that her hands are tied behind her back. The multiple static angles all but confirm your theory: everything in this video is by San’s design. 

He then sits down on a rather large, black leather couch, facing her. The camera caresses his features, letting you see every detail of the tailored suit he’s wearing that fits him perfectly. The suit itself is probably more expensive than five of those couches. Wordlessly, he beckons her closer with two of his fingers. He almost looks bored. But you think bored is the wrong word… curious actually. Like he’s just taking his time, waiting for her to act first. His tempo is carefully curated and well-calculated. He reacts, even though he knows they’re both just enacting what this company wants to see. Like this isn’t just for the cameras. Every scene is serious to him, and yet it doesn’t come across as corny or too much. You wonder why he doesn’t go into acting. He seems more than able to convince people of real chemistry between himself and his co-star each and every time. And with a face card like his, you doubt he would’ve had many rejections. 

Then again, you imagine it’d be rather hard to make a smooth transition into becoming a serious and respected actor after being in adult films. 

She manages to make her way over to him, knelt in between his knees, waiting for further instruction. And he makes her wait. The camera cuts a couple of times, documenting the power dynamic from several angles. It’s evident a long time has passed because she keeps shifting her weight, knees never quite finding relief on the floor.   

A small whimper leaves her, and it earns her a sharp smack across the cheek. You gasp at the same time she does, not expecting that at all for an action so miniscule. In almost the same motion, San’s grip returns to her hair, pulling her closer to his clothed crotch. 

“Be actually useful for once, baby.” He says sweetly, like he’s praising instead of degrading her. “Earn it.” 

You can tell she’s holding back another whimper, trying to be good. San guides her further down, until her face is pressed into the front seam of his tailored pants, and holds her there until she realizes what he wants her to do. Rather pathetically, she mouths at his dick through the fabric. He’s not even hard yet. No, he fully expects her to do all the work for him, including getting him ready. 

While she’s… busy, he lazily takes off his watch, setting it aside and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just above his elbows. You’ve seen him naked about a dozen times in these types of videos, and for some reason, this is what sends an uncontrollable shiver down your spine. Almost on sight, you feel how wet you’ve become, panties starting to cling to you. 

His face is stony, refusing to give away what he’s thinking. That’s privileged information. But the harder he gets, the more motivated she becomes, tilting her head to the side to attempt to wrap her lips around his length as best she can. And yet, he never says anything. No praise, no degradation. He lets her actions speak for themselves, lets it burrow into her mind on her own. Pathetic. She doesn’t bother looking up at him for reassurance anymore. He’s not giving her anything to work with. 

Abruptly, he yanks her back by the hair, just to see if she makes a noise. She does. Another sharp crack against her cheek makes you squeeze your thighs together. She takes three more slaps until he stops, his hands leave her entirely and one grips himself through his pants, sighing like he’s bored. Or rather, disappointed. From what you can discern from the print against his pants, he’s only half-hard. 

“You don’t want it that badly, do you?” He asks like he’s already decided her answer. 

Frantically, she shakes her head, denying his assumption. “No, no sir, I do want it. Please, I want it so–” 

Unfortunately for her, his mind is already made up. 

San rises from the couch, picking her up into his arms easily, like she weighed nothing. The camera cuts, now facing the bed, and San lays her down onto it. He then goes about tying her down to it, on all-fours. The girl’s face presses into the pillows, muffling any noise. San ties her ankles to the bedposts, leaving her spread open for him with no chance of closing herself off. Fully exposed, at his mercy. Or lack thereof. 

San then loosens his tie before wrapping it around her throat, fashioning it into a makeshift collar and leash. He tugs it once, testing its reliability. Satisfied, he lets it go for the time being, no doubt planning on using it later. For now, he stalks around the bed, admiring his work, and assessing the best way to deal with the girl tied up in front of him.

“Since you couldn’t wait and just had to touch yourself before you came to me, I’m gonna teach you some patience.” 

As if the last few times weren’t enough, an involuntary sound escapes from her lips. Soon enough, her ass is red and bruised, San’s hand quick to punish her for making noise. 

“Be quiet,” he reminds sternly, “or you get nothing.” 

That’s good motivation. Suddenly, you feel like you can’t make a single noise either. 

He disappears offscreen for a while, the camera cutting a few times to capture how the anticipation makes the girl very nervous and wet at the same time. Impatient, you skip ahead thirty seconds and San pops back into frame, holding something. 

There’s no warning, no telling her what it is. Only he and the audience (you) know. He holds the vibrator wand right up to her pussy, mere centimetres away and pauses. Her toes curl in an effort to stop the rest of her body from squirming. He waits for any minuscule movement. It’s when she cranes her neck, attempting to look back to see what he’s doing, that he turns it onto the highest setting and presses it against her clit in one swift motion. 

Poor thing gasps and screams at the intense, unexpected vibrations, earning her another brutal round of spanks. 

“Shhh,” he hushes her softly, “be quiet. Don’t move.” 

Your pulse stutters, eyes wider than they were before, and your hand starts to drift downwards, underneath your clothes, to find your clit. The relief is immediate, like scratching an itch. You work yourself up alongside her, trying to follow San’s instructions yourself. Breaths turning shallow, you press your lips together to keep from making any sounds. If you really wanted to immerse and challenge yourself, you’d grab your own vibrator from the drawer, but you can’t tear your gaze from the screen. You don’t want to miss anything, and you feel like pausing it would disrupt the experience. If this is potentially what’s in store for you, and she doesn’t get a break, you don’t get one either. 

Her fists tighten and grab at nothing, still bound behind her back. You can tell she’s losing the fight to follow through with his instructions. San notices this too. He moves the vibrator up and down, grinding the head of it harder on her clit before moving it away again. You have no idea how she’s managing to hold on. 

San hears it the same time you do, not a gasp or a noise per se, but a hitch of her breath, just audible enough to hear. At the same time, her legs begin to shake, out of her control to stop them from doing so. 

He takes the vibrator away, switching it off. 

Her toes curl again, burying her face deeper into the pillows to silence any sounds. Your hand stops dead, even though all you want to do is keep circling your clit. 

“See what I have to do?” He sighs, trailing the head of the vibrator down the back of her thighs. “If you just waited for me, I wouldn’t have to do this. I wouldn’t have to waste my time teaching you to be patient.”

Damn. Have you ever heard him talk to any of his scene partners like this? The San from the first video you watched as part of your ‘research’ seems a million miles away. A completely different person. 

Eventually, the vibrator is returned to her clit, humming at full power. You resume your own administrations as well. San kneads her ass with his free hand, eyes glued to her body, waiting for her to fuck up. Any excuse to take the pleasure away again. An excuse comes when she’s forced back onto the brink of an orgasm, and he switches the toy off again. But he keeps it pressed against her pussy. On instinct, her hips rock backwards, trying to chase the pleasure, and you can’t help but groan out of frustration as you take your hand away. This time, he doesn’t administer spanks to her ass, but right on her pussy. And she can’t help the high-pitched yelp that leaps from her throat. San spanks her pussy until she shuts up. You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until the uncomfortable pressure in your throat forces you to inhale deeply. 

The girl shudders after the last smack but doesn’t move or say a word. You’re both rooting for her and secretly hoping she’ll screw up again, just to see what he does. Also, you want to see if he’ll actually fuck her. 

Rather impatiently, you skip ahead a couple of minutes, needing to know if he’s the type to punish by leaving her empty the whole time. It takes only a second for the video to buffer and when it does, you see that he’s added another toy, keeping it pressed deep into her pussy, right up to the very base of it. The vibrator never leaves her clit. The skin of her ass is bright red and already bruising in some areas. It looks rather painful. She’s moaning but it’s muffled and barely audible – you can imagine San gagged her in some way to keep her quiet after failing over and over again. Possibly with his tie. He doesn’t move the toy at all, instead just forcing her to feel the thickness and weight of it buried deep inside of her, no doubt pressing right up against her g-spot. 

If he denies her again in this state, you’ll really be scared of him. 

And that, he does. 

This time, she wails through her gag, her whole body locking up and then quickly deflating in defeat. But the time in between denials is no longer merciful. San waits maybe ten seconds before starting again, placing the vibrator back where it belongs. 

God damn– you think, becoming wetter as your fingers find your clit again, your own pleasure building. The poor girl shrieks into the pillows, incoherently pleading with him to stop. Instead of listening to her cries, San taps the vibrator against her pussy, driving her – and you – even more crazy. 

“I’m doing you a favor,” he says flatly, not caring that she’s essentially begging for mercy. “You should be apologizing for making me waste my time to teach you basic manners.” 

Your mouth drops open at that. He’s so mean, and yet if you were in her position – which you may be soon – you’re pretty sure you’d start apologizing right away. But she can’t, at least not properly. Not with a gag in her mouth and her face half-pressed into the pillows. You imagine after being denied what must be nearing ten orgasms at this point, her mind is also going a bit blank. 

He presses the vibrator harder against her, making her back arch. “Tell me how sorry you are and maybe I’ll stop.” 

That grabs her attention. Muffled, garbled, and barely full sentences immediately tumble from her lips, on the off chance that he’ll take pity on her and stop this edging torture. Her body shudders violently, cutting off her voice entirely.  

Rather surprisingly, he does let up. Both toys disappear at once, and he watches her body collapse onto the bed, burning muscles unable to hold herself up any longer. But he doesn’t let the relief stay for long. His hand twists in her hair, yanking her upright until her back is against his chest. With the other, he rips the gag out – which was, in fact, his tie. 

“I’ll give you one chance to tell me the truth,” he mutters in her ear, his other hand lingering dangerously close to her sore mound. “Did you just cum without permission? Yes or no.” 

A sob tears itself from her throat, knowing that she’s been caught. 

San pulls her hair again, causing her to yelp again. “Answer me,” he hisses, “and don’t you dare lie to me.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” she whimpers, honest. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t let her go. He just makes her stay with that feeling of guilt, the shame of being caught, and the foreboding knowledge that he’s going to have to punish her again. With his free hand, he runs the pads of his fingers through her soaking wet folds, collecting the evidence for himself. To humiliate her even further, he shoves those fingers into her mouth, pressing on her tongue. She whines around them, which he rewards by shoving his fingers deeper, into her throat. Tears flow down her face and neck, already utterly fucked out and he hasn’t even touched her himself, really. He’s still fully clothed, for fuck’s sake. 

San sighs, thinking aloud, “What should I do with you, hm?” 

Busy choking and spluttering around the intrusion in her throat, she can’t answer him at all. He probably doesn’t want an answer, though. You have a feeling he knows exactly what he’s going to do with her. 

Once again, you’re proven correct when he lets her go and pulls his fingers out of her mouth. He watches her gasp for air and cough violently for a fleeting moment of relative peace before dragging her back towards the edge of the bed. 

“Fucking useless slut…” he mutters to himself, just audible enough for her to hear. “You wanna cum so bad? Fine.” 

A new toy is brought into frame, this one looking more daunting than the other two. You can tell it’s one of those two-for-one types, and your heart goes out to her. It slips inside of her easily, though it’s thicker than the previous dildo, all but confirming once again that she did cum without his permission. This time, there’s no mystery or question about what he’s going to do to her. She knows. The knowing is almost worse than the not-knowing. 

He switches it on without much ceremony. She does her best to not move or make a sound, but another orgasm builds rapidly. Too fast, too soon. 

For seven straight orgasms, he just watches her. He doesn’t even touch himself even though you can tell he’s hard beneath those tailored pants. Her pleas fall on deaf ears, like he’s not even in the room. You’ve barely managed to keep up with her, coaxing two weak orgasms from your own body with just your fingers and already feeling exhausted. Fuck, maybe everyone’s right… 

You tap the screen to see how much more of the video is left, and your eyebrows raise when you see there’s still ten more minutes. You decide to skim through, just curious if he ever does let her have his cock.

Spoiler alert: he does not. 

In reality, the only thing he changes is that he jerks himself off, getting off on her screams and pleas for him to turn the toy off, that she’s had enough. For the last two orgasms he forces her through, he adds his thumb to her clit, circling it mercilessly. 

“One more, come on. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To cum?” 

Through her tears and scratchy voice, she warbles, “W-want– wanted you t-to fuck me…” 

He only laughs at her, and it sends such a blow to your psyche. 

“Did you really think I would?” 

She screams again, mixing with her sobs and choked groans as the final orgasm rips through her worn-out body. The only act of kindness he gives her is removing the toy and kissing her back, in between her shoulder blades. 

He takes his time to untie her ankles from the bedposts, his hands smoothing over the skin where the rope had been. Wrecked and twitching, she curls into a ball on the bed, pussy sore and swollen. Knowing this, San drags her back down towards the foot of the bed, forcing her legs apart again. Her hands weakly try to push him away, but he ducks down, licking a near-fatal stripe up her folds, sucking harshly on her clit. Voice basically gone, her scream is broken and breathy. 

That’s a habit he has, you’ve noticed. Or maybe just a signature thing. No matter what, when he’s done with his scene partner, he gives their pussy one final lick. As if he’s sealing the deal. Something they’ll feel long after the cameras stop rolling, along with the ache of their inner walls. 

San chuckles, patting her inner thigh with his hand before pulling her onto the floor, back down onto her knees. He doesn't say anything more as he jerks off in front of her, aiming his cock right at her face. He lets her suck on it, much to your surprise, and he eventually comes. Some of it inside of her mouth, and the rest, he smears across her face. The final act of humiliation for her. 

You slam your laptop shut. 

Holy. Shit.       

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You come back to the forms after a cold shower and a half an hour long pacing session in your living room. 

With a somewhat clearer head, you decide to take it one question at a time. 

At first glance, you can’t help but feel like you’re filling out the forms you’d normally get in a doctor’s office. It covers everything. Height, weight, age, consent for Afterdark to inquire upon certain medical history to ensure the prevention of any diseases or illnesses, and payment information. On the next page, it goes deeper, and you almost want to take another lap before you dive in and check off any of the boxes. 

There’s a checklist of kinks, each one with a box to check if any are ‘hard no’s’ or ‘hard yesses’for you. You gotta hand it to Afterdark, they’re very thorough. At the very top, just above this checklist, you notice two more boxes simply labelled ‘Rough’ and ‘Gentle’. 

Ah. 

This must be the reason that every video with San feels different. Not just because of whatever context they provide in the beginning of the video, but he never exactly has the same go-to way of fucking every time. Except of course, that parting move he’s so accustomed to doing. With some women, he takes it very slow, gentle and caring with lots of praise, and with others, like the one you just watched, he is ruthless and mean, denying orgasms and spanking them until their skin turns an alarming shade of red. They’ve tailored their own experience with him. That makes you feel a bit better actually, gives you more of a sense of control. You’re not just walking into this with no say in what he does to you, nor will you be blindsided. Actually, you’ll have a pretty good idea, and no worries that he’ll do something you’re uncomfortable with. 

The empty boxes still taunt you. Which version of him do you want? 

After much consideration, you eventually let fate decide. You pick both options. Rough and gentle. Let’s see what he does with that. 

Moving on, forcing yourself to breathe slower, you continue down the list of kinks. Again, it’s very thorough, even asking for locations that you’d be okay filming in. You check off ‘hard no’ on most, if not all of the ‘bodily fluids’ section of the kink list. All except creampies, crying, and squirting. You wonder if he’ll be able to make you do that. If so, you don’t want to discourage him from it. You’re okay with toys, cunnilingus, fingers in your mouth, body worship, hair pulling, hickies, clothed sex, light bondage, the traffic light system, and spanking, just to name a few. You also mean to check off a hard ‘yes’ to aftercare. Aftercare is a non-negotiable for you. One of your exes never did that for you, and it’s been a dealbreaker ever since you got out of that relationship. You dislike feeling used after-the-fact. Discarded. It’s an ugly shock to your system, one that you’d like to avoid if possible. 

Double checking everything on this page, you go to the third and final page. 

In the top half, there’s an interactive calendar so you can input dates and times when you’re free to do the shoot. You’re pretty much free all the time, if you’re being honest. You just have a family wedding to go to in late August, two months from now. Though you’d rather do the shoot later in the day, not wanting to risk sleeping through it with your terrible sleep schedule. So, you mark every afternoon and evening as ‘available’. 

In the bottom half of the page, there’s just one last question, accompanied by a text box: ‘Tell us about yourself, and what we can do to better tailor this experience for you.’ 

You have to admit, you weren’t expecting this kind of question to come up. They want to know about you? Tailor this opportunity for you? 

Huh. 

Your mind goes blank at first. What could they possibly want to know? What are they actually looking for? There’s really no telling. 

Slowly, you type out a vague summary of where you grew up, why you started doing cam-shows, and that your favorite color is purple. When it comes to writing about how they can improve on this collaboration, your fingers hover over the keyboard. Stuck. You could just straight up not say anything, or just put ‘N/A’. But your inner professional tells you to answer it. You search yourself, wondering if there’s anything that would make you feel a little more comfortable while there. You assume they’ll provide a robe for you, or something to cover you up when you’re not filming, but you’ve also heard how ‘fucking cold’ porn sets are kept. Not exactly wanting to show up with a blanket from home, you decide that’ll be your one request. 

‘If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like a blanket while on set. Thank you! :)’ 

You double – triple – check each form page, making sure you didn’t accidentally check something off or type in your information wrong. After you confirm that everything is accurate and spelled correctly, you click on the ‘submit’ button. A ‘thank you’ screen pops up, and you quickly exit the tab, not wanting to think about it anymore. It’s out of your hands now. 

But speaking of the hands it’s now in, you have to set up a meeting time with this Kim Hongjoong guy.  

Right. Okay, onto the next step. 

In a new email, you type out all the dates and times you’re free – you may have made yourself sound busier than you actually are – and send it off to him. Glad to have everything done, you flop back against your pillows and groan. You replay all the images you’ve seen. All the things he’s done to multiple women. 

You wonder what on earth he’ll do with you. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

It’s the next day that ends up being the meeting day. 

You opt for a virtual meeting, reasoning that it’ll probably be quicker and easier for both of you. From what it sounds like, being employed by Afterdark and Choi San keeps Hongjoong rather busy. 

You do your makeup and hair, wanting to look presentable. It’s the shirt that gives you a headache. You’re rather unsure how professional you should look. What does someone wear to a meeting like this? You look down at your chest, trying to mentally calculate how much of it is appropriate to show, and choosing a shirt based on that. Eventually, you just pick a nice triangle lace cami. Kim Hongjoong will just have to excuse the fact that it’s summer and hot in your apartment in the afternoons. You’ve been meaning to figure out how the air conditioning works. It’s hi-tech in a way that truly baffles you. You’ll get Yeosang to figure it out the next time he comes over. 

Moving your laptop into the kitchen for the natural light, you try to shake the nerves out of your hands as you walk around the kitchen island. You grab a cold water from the fridge and drink half of it before forcing yourself to sit down. The meeting is set for two-thirty, just a few minutes away. You kind of want to scream into the pillows on your couch. This will be the final stage until you actually go through with this whole collaboration. The last buffer until it happens. 

In the upper right hand corner, you see an email notification from Hongjoong, providing you with a link to a video chatroom. For a full sixty seconds, you pretend you haven’t seen it yet. But when that minute is up, and you have to be an adult, you take one more sip of water before clicking on the link and sneaking a glance at yourself in the reflection of your laptop as the camera loads. 

There’s a small boop sound from your laptop, signalling that the call has been connected and you brace yourself for a scam. Your hand hovers above the trackpad, ready to hit ‘end call’ at a moment’s notice. When his camera finally loads, you breathe a little easier. He’s in an office based on context clues of what you can see around him, and he’s rather handsome himself. That admittedly takes you aback. He has short, dark brown hair, round eyes, and a charming smile once he sees you on his screen. He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose, and leans forward in his seat a little bit. 

“Miss Y/N! It’s so nice to talk with you today, how are you?” 

“I’m doing well, thank you. Are you the one I’ve been emailing?” You ask when he doesn’t introduce himself by name. You just want to clarify. 

He laughs to break any awkward tension, “Yes, that’s me. My apologies, I’m San’s agent, Kim Hongjoong.”

“Okay, good.” You smile back, shoulders relaxing a little more. His dress shirt makes you feel a bit… well, underdressed, but when you notice that the top two buttons are undone, it makes you feel a bit better. He’s clearly not going for ultra-professional right now either. Off camera, in your lap, you play with one of your rings, giving your nervous hands something to do. 

Unexpectedly, the first ten minutes are spent just making small-talk, especially after finding out you and him grew up around the same area. He asks you how you like the city, and you find yourself telling him about how much you love it, and that you never want to leave. Turns out he shares the same sentiment. It’s starting to feel less like a rigid job interview and more like a casual interaction. Nothing to be afraid of. You feel much more comfortable than you did ten minutes ago, that’s for sure. 

Hongjoong eventually looks over to the side, where his desktop computer is and starts clicking around, the light reflecting off of his glasses. And you realize that it’s time to actually start talking about the collab. You fix your earring for no real reason, just to give yourself something to do.  

“So, I’ve received the forms you completed – thank you for doing that, by the way – and I was wondering if you have any questions for me about them?” 

You pause before you answer. Now’s the time to ask, and with the right person, too. Humming to fill the silence, you think about a good question to ask first. 

Hongjoong picks up his phone when it starts vibrating incessantly, and looks at the screen for only a few seconds before placing it face down on his desk. Someone must be trying to get in touch with him, but he doesn’t bother with replying right now. You know it must be important, whatever it is, so you appreciate him keeping you the center of his attention right now. 

“I guess I’ve been wondering about… like… if I check off certain boxes will we do all of that? Or…?” 

Very eloquent. 

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to think anything of it. “Oh, no, no. Usually what happens is we take a look at it, figure out which ones would work best together and with you and San, and take it from there. It’s just to see what you’re comfortable with and to see which direction you want this collab to go.” 

That makes sense. And now that you think about it, what if someone puts a ‘hard yes’ next to something that San would check off as a ‘hard no’, obviously they wouldn’t do it. It’s a mutual agreement. They find the things that match between you two and take it from there. 

“Actually,” Hongjoong says with a small grin, still scrolling through the forms on his computer. “You two are pretty similar. It wasn’t hard to match up.” 

You hear it but your brain doesn’t process what it means yet. 

“Oh, really?” You say, not knowing how else to respond. 

Hongjoong just hums, nodding once. He pushes his glasses up again before turning back to you. 

“Regardless of that, though, I wanted to also let you know that if at any point during the shoot you feel uncomfortable and want to leave, you can, and you will be paid in full, no questions asked. Obviously though, if you leave before, or if you don’t show up at all, we can’t really do anything to pay you. We have this in place because we don’t want you to feel trapped once the scene starts. Does that make sense?” 

You nod quickly, “Yes, it does.” 

“Perfect,” he says. “So, with your schedule that you sent me, if you’re okay with it, we can set the date relatively soon. Is this coming Friday, at six o’clock alright?” 

Friday. As in… Friday, two days from now, Friday? Your mouth dries instantly. Two days from now. Is he not busy? You assumed this wouldn’t happen for a couple of weeks, at least. A delusional voice in your head tells you that maybe he cleared his schedule to be with you sooner rather than later. Oh, sure. Yeah, right.

Still, it baffles you. 

And yet you hear yourself say, “Friday’s good for me!” 

Well, now it has to be whether you’re ready or not. Your hands itch for your phone, needing to text Yeosang immediately, even though you know he’ll probably find your dilemma rather entertaining. You also need to book a waxing appointment and get your nails done ASAP. Maybe even a facial, too.

Fucking hell, Y/N, the things you get yourself into. 

Hongjoong lights up, quickly typing something on his keyboard, scrunching his nose once or twice to keep his glasses from moving down again. A few more clicks of his mouse, and it’s done. 

“Okay, perfect. I’ve got you booked for six o’clock this Friday. If you could email me where you’d like our driver to pick you up, that’d be great. Otherwise, do you have any other questions, comments, or concerns for me?” 

Your lips part. Driver? Someone from Afterdark is going to bring you to the set? Your right hand grips your phone, turning it over and preparing to call Yeosang as soon as you hang up with Hongjoong. 

Fuck, okay. Sure, why not? 

“Oh, um–” you suddenly remember one thing he hasn’t mentioned at all. “Is there a script? Like, do I need to know any lines before…?” 

Hongjoong answers right away, “Ah, this shoot will be unscripted. It’ll feel more natural that way.” 

More natural. Your heart feels like a brick in your chest. To be honest though, you’re really glad there is no script. However, a rubric would be helpful as well. You nod, acknowledging that information. So it really will be like the videos you watched. That’s the experience you’ll be getting. 

“Okay, cool,” you reply, desperately needing another drink of water for your dry mouth. “Thank you.” 

Hongjoong smiles politely. “No problem. Alright, well if everything sounds good, we’ll see you on Friday! Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.”

We. 

Again, he’s probably just talking about the company, but Yeosang’s words from yesterday are stuck in your head. Your secret delusions and Yeosang’s smart mouth are never a good mix. 

“See you Friday! Thank you.” You reply politely, the very picture of calmness and professionalism.  

And once the call disconnects, you’re slamming your laptop shut and calling Yeosang to tell him everything.   

He picks up on the third ring, yawning and obviously not fully awake just yet. You forgot he went out with his friend last night. Still, it’s definitely time for him to be awake now. 

As expected, once you rattle off every detail of the call you were just on, Yeosang laughs his ass off. 

“Oh man,” he says with an audible sigh, “you’re fucked.”      

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

Part of you wishes that the driver will somehow get hopelessly lost on the way to the set. 

You’re sure he’s been there multiple times before, but you pray for a random dose of amnesia anyway. It’s not that you’re second-guessing the decision – not at all – you just weren’t expecting the day to come so soon. It’s crazy how forty-eight hours now seems like no time at all. You shake out your hands as you step out of the car, and look up at the building. It’s rather unassuming, blending seamlessly into the numerous ones around it. Nothing about it screams that this is where adult films are produced. Not that you really expected it to. 

The driver parks with the hazards on, and gets out as well to let you into the building via a keycard. You thank him quietly as he holds the door open for you. He must’ve told you his name, but for the life of you, you cannot remember it. He points you in the direction of the elevators, and confirms that he’ll see you later to drive you home.

Then, you’re alone. He gets back into the car and drives it around the building, to an underground parking garage you assume.

You take a deep breath in the lobby, finding the elevators quickly and starting towards them. Hongjoong said the shoot is on the eighth floor, so you press the ‘8’ button once in the elevator car. 

As soon as the doors shut, the silence and gravity of what you’re there to do settles in immediately. You force yourself to take a deep breath, really dragging out how long you exhale to try and ease your heart rate. The second floor comes and goes, as does the third. But the higher you climb, the tighter your throat becomes. On floor five, you think of bailing. Past the sixth floor, already almost there, Yeosang’s custom text ringtone startles you. Glad to distract yourself, you immediately read the text.  

[yeoyeo🌻]: don’t let him intimidate you, you’re the one he wanted for this 

[yeoyeo🌻]: remember he’s literally just some guy and you’ll be fine 

[yeoyeo🌻]: you’re gonna be great :)    

You can’t help but smile, and you roll your shoulders back to stand taller. He’s right, as always. Choi San is many things, but at the end of the day, he is just a man. You have to view this as a very elaborate hookup rather than a career opportunity, just to calm your nervous system if anything else. 

When the elevator doors open on the eighth floor, someone is already waiting for you on the other side. 

Hongjoong. 

You don’t realize until this moment how relieved you are to see a somewhat familiar face. 

“Miss Y/N,” he greets, extending his hand out for you to shake, “it’s so nice to meet you in person.” 

You smile warmly, returning the greeting and hoping that your handshake is up to par. Before you have time to possibly overthink such a small thing, he asks if you need anything. 

“Oh, um…no, not at the moment, thank you.” 

“Of course,” he nods once. “If you do need something at any time, please let one of us know.” 

You assume that ‘one of us’ probably means the team of people you’re about to meet and be fucked in front of. Forcing another deep breath, you manage another easy smile and thank him again. 

He motions for you to follow him, and you have to look down at your feet to get them to move. You beg yourself inwardly to get a grip and soon. 

Hongjoong leads you down a long hallway, deeper into the Afterdark floorplan. You’re surprised by how nice it smells in here, like someone is burning incense somewhere. The walls are decorated with miscellaneous artworks and some awards, as well as headshots of the actors and actresses signed with them. At the end of the hallway, there are two huge double doors, and he pulls one of them open with ease, letting you walk into the gigantic room it reveals first. 

When you finally enter the large set, you can instantly feel the drastic temperature drop. Just as you had been led to believe, they must have turned down the thermostat in the room, making it several degrees colder than the early summer weather outside, and you rub your arms to try and warm them up. 

No more than five seconds after the two of you enter, Hongjoong is suddenly flanked by a young woman with a clipboard. A sticky note flutters as she keeps pace with you and him, and she mutters something to him that you can’t hear. 

“No, that’s alright,” he says quietly, “I think he’s good without her right now, but double check for me, please.” 

You keep your eyes on the floor, pretending that you didn’t hear anything, but your mind races. Who is ‘she’, you wonder? As quickly as she appeared, the assistant scurries off, past the camera and lighting crews, and over countless miscellaneous wires with practiced ease. 

While the two of you walk, you’re rather relieved that no one is staring at you as you go by. You’re just another actress to them, and right now, that’s okay with you. And luckily, the path Hongjoong is taking you on is relatively close to the perimeter of the set, so you’re not exactly the center of attention right now. A part of the wall juts out, making it look like a closet, but once he opens the door, you see it’s a dressing room. Complete with vanity lights, a full bathroom, and a brand new silk robe for you to wear on set, hanging up by the door. There’s also a small, plush couch up against the wall next to the vanity that you have a feeling you will be texting Yeosang on as soon as you’re left alone. 

“This is all yours for the day,” Hongjoong says, “someone will come around in a minute to help with hair and makeup, and then we’ll start.”

You nod, swallowing down as much of your anxiety as possible. 

“Will you, um–” you ask before you can stop yourself. Hongjoong pauses before he heads out, waiting expectantly for you to finish your question. “Are you gonna be on set the whole time?” 

His expression changes into something akin to surprise. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting you to ask anything about himself. He doesn’t answer straight away, taking a moment to try and understand why you’re asking that. You can almost see the professional within him piecing together a corporate response in real time.

“We try to limit how many people are in the room to those who are absolutely necessary. I usually stay close in case someone needs me. Why?” 

You wave your hand, trying to brush everything off. “No, I was just wondering. Nevermind. Thank you!” 

Hongjoong looks like he’s about to say something, but ultimately leaves you alone, gently closing the door behind him. 

As soon as it clicks shut, you’re moving to sit on the couch, ready to call Yeosang, but you stop yourself at the last minute. You’re acting crazy, you do realize that. And you have a sneaking suspicion he’ll tell you the exact same thing. 

Instead, to satiate your need to call him, you reread his last three texts of encouragement. 

Lock in. Remember who the hell you are. Now. 

You put on some ego-boosting music so you’re not just getting ready in silence, and quickly undress before hair and makeup arrive. Folded neatly on the vanity, is your outfit for the scene. A tight, cropped black lace cami, and a plaid mini skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

No panties anywhere in sight. No bra, either. Total and easy access. 

Your lower stomach starts to heat up, already envisioning how San might go about undressing you. From what you’ve seen, rarely does he let girls undress themselves. No, he wants to be the one to do it. Like he’s unwrapping a present, just for him.  

After you throw your hoodie onto the couch with the rest of your pile of clothes, you turn back to the vanity, noticing a small army of mini water bottles lined up and waiting for you if need be. You’re almost positive that if you look in the vanity drawer, you’ll find snacks as well. Maybe you can get used to this. But you’ll wait to give your final verdict after the job you came here to do is done. It’s best to wait. 

You’re only waiting for a minute or two before there’s a light knock on the door. Two women wearing face masks enter the dressing room, bowing to you and introducing themselves. You try to remember their names – Youngmi, you think is the makeup artist, and Rina, the hair stylist – but your brain is elsewhere, working double overtime to try to calm you down. Luckily, the Britney Spears song in the background is doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Youngmi and Rina are quick, and good at what they do. Rina makes you laugh by scrunching her nose and singing along to the song as she brushes through your hair. Youngmi only rolls her eyes at her colleague, but it’s all in good fun. 

By the time they’re done, you no longer feel like the scared outsider that doesn’t look the part. They made you even more beautiful. 

There she is, you think as you admire yourself in the mirror. 

You sigh in relief, feeling much more confident than before. And not only that, you feel ready. It’s not the easiest thing to turn your nervousness into excitement, but somehow, this time, you manage to do it. So many girls would kill to be in your shoes right now – or, in your skirt. You had kicked your shoes off next to the couch. 

You make sure to thank Youngmi and Rina before they bring you out, not knowing if you’ll have a chance once you’re on set. With one more spritz of your perfume that you brought with you from home, and a last minute decision to bring the robe out with you, you finally follow them out towards the set. Just mere feet from where you’ll be… ‘performing’. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

As you’re walking and looking around, you start to wonder if San makes it a point to surround himself with equally beautiful people. Or maybe it’s a company requirement. 

Sure, maybe Hongjoong, Youngmi, and Rina are just coincidences, but even the camera and lighting crew are arguably just as pretty. Speaking of Hongjoong, you look around, noting that he isn’t anywhere to be found at the moment. He’s probably with his talent right now. 

When you’re introduced to the director, you almost say something about it. Everyone in this room is attractive. Conventionally, unconventionally, and everything in between. 

“Hello Ms. Y/L/N, I’m Choi Jongho, I’ll be directing you two today.” He introduces himself, bowing politely and shaking your hand. 

You bow your head and reply, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” 

He offers you a chair to sit in while everyone waits for San to come out, and you take it gratefully. You don’t know how long he’ll be. Youngmi and Rina excuse themselves, heading off in the other direction together, walking with purpose. You drape your robe across the back of it, unsure if you’re supposed to give it to someone or take it with you onto the set. 

“Would you like anything to drink, Ms. Y/L/N?” The director asks, noticing that you don’t have anything with you ready for any breaks. 

Director Choi only refers to you as “Ms. Y/L/N.” Very professional, cordial even. Makes you feel like more than an object his star is about to fuck on screen. You’re being treated with real respect, which is a pleasant surprise in comparison to what you had expected from the porn industry. 

You look around yourself, only just now realizing you didn’t take one of those mini water bottles from your dressing room like you originally planned. 

“A water, please–” you start to say. As soon as the last syllable of ‘water’ is spoken, an assistant hands you one. You didn’t even see him standing next to you, much less holding a bottle. Then again, you aren’t really paying attention to whether or not people are carrying water bottles or not right now. Damn.   

You try to warm up your arms by rubbing them, now that you’re virtually wearing next to nothing in this arctic-like room. Only a few moments later, a blanket is handed over to you wordlessly by another assistant, a quick bow following the action. You tilt your head down as a responding bow, shocked. You didn’t even have to say anything. 

Is this what San is used to? Everything given to him at once, on a silver platter with no questions asked? You imagine every single thing handed to him accompanied by hopeful, round eyes looking at him for his approval, only to be ignored or thanked by a small nod. You’re so used to doing everything yourself, this type of treatment makes you feel… stuck up – and every fiber of your being screams at you to make sure none of the staff think that of you. 

“San will be out in just a moment,” Director Choi says, but his heart isn't in it. He checks his watch and glances towards San's dressing room with nearly well-concealed impatience. It is rather late in the day, and you only just now think about the possibility that they may have been here since early morning. Maybe even shooting San with someone else. It’s entirely possible. You can imagine they all just want to get this last one done and go home. None of them would ever let that show, though. No, you have to admit everyone here is quite professional. 

Your hands absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you zone out. At least for now, you can zone out with a blanket wrapped around you. 

The air shifts just moments later.

It’s like a sudden pressure drop where everything goes still for only a second. That one second feels like a lifetime as you turn your head to see what’s going on. Though, in your heart you know exactly what it is without needing to look – it’s the arrival of the main attraction. 

From where you are, leaned back in your chair, you can’t see him too well. He’s surrounded by a team that moves with him like a clump of cells, or maybe in this case, like sheep in a herd. Finishing touchups by Youngmi and Rina, an assistant by his side carrying a medium-sized leather bag and holding his coffee cup when San hands it to him, and other miscellaneous characters that float around the star. Everyone wants to be near him in some way. 

Hongjoong stays at the back of it all, looking down at his phone as he walks. 

The team finally disperses one by one, revealing more of Choi San to your eyes. 

When San finally gets close enough to you, whatever air in your lungs is promptly sucker-punched out of you at the sight of his refreshing beauty. It’s even more pronounced in real life. You’re not entirely sure how to greet him, or what he’s used to. But you remember Yeosang’s encouragement again: He’s just a guy. Don’t let him intimidate you. You’re gonna be great. 

He’s just a guy. You’ve dealt with those before. It’s just that this guy in particular is crafted like an apology for creating men in the first place. And a couple of days ago, you were watching him make a girl cry on a bed that looks quite similar to the one on set right now. 

You stand up, smoothing down your skirt and standing still, hands clasped in front of you. 

“Hey Jongho, sorry we’re late,” Hongjoong calls over, pocketing his phone. He side-eyes San, who bows his head in apology as he walks.  

The director waves him off, clearly used to his tardiness and the apologies that follow. “It’s alright,” he says, “you’re actually earlier than we thought you’d be.”   

“We need to go over the rules with her,” San says once he’s close enough to you and the director, sounding tired. You wonder if he just woke up. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he speaks, and catches you looking. You don’t see it when you quickly avert your eyes, but his whole demeanor changes. No longer lethargic, he becomes awake and alert at the sight of you. 

Director Choi nods and grabs a clipboard from his own director’s chair. You nervously roll your ankle, hearing it crack quietly in the interim.  

“Right, number one rule is consent. If at any time you want to stop, just say the word. No questions asked. Second rule is to keep all details of this shoot private, including any conversations with each other,” At this, Director Choi looks up at you. “Third rule is health and safety, but Hongjoong said you covered that with him, and when you sent in the form,” Again, his eyes flick up from the clipboard to glance at you. “Fourth is to be respectful at all times – there’s no room for ego here. And lastly, don’t look at the camera unless told to, otherwise keep the illusion.” 

You go over each rule in your head before you forget. Consent, confidentiality, feel safe, be respectful, and don’t look at the camera. Simple enough. You keep your chin up, and shoulders back. You force that annoying inner voice of self-doubt to mumble the lyrics of the Britney song from earlier. 

“Follow these, and we’ll have a great shoot day. We should be ready to go in just a few minutes.” Director Choi offers both of you a quick smile before he turns on his heel and walks towards the cameraman, getting everything finalized and ready to shoot. Your heart pounds underneath the robe. Hongjoong steps closer to San, muttering something to him before walking back towards the dressing room. 

You’re just about to walk over to the set to get used to it and be ready to go whenever they are, when San steps right in front of you, effectively blocking the way.  

Out of the blue, he crowds your personal space, and you have to really dig deep to make yourself stay put. Right where you stand. Don’t be intimidated. At the end of the day, you’re both here to do the same job, and both of you are successful in your own rights. He’s just a man, you remind yourself again. 

San towers over you, his shirt opened just enough for you to see his perfectly toned and tan chest right in your face. You keep eye contact, even though all you want to do is look away. It’s much easier to be confident and independent on your own turf, but here on his, it’s more of a challenge. Still, you stand your ground. You have to if he’s going to keep sizing you up. He has been since he walked out here.  

“You didn’t cum,” he says matter-of-factly. 

… 

Pardon? Did you hear him right? What an odd opening line to say to someone you’re meeting for the first time. 

Your lips part and eyebrows furrow, rather startled. “I’m sorry?” 

There’s no way you heard him correctly.  

“Your last liveshow,” he shrugs. “Am I right?” 

Well… yes, but– how did–? 

Is this how he starts all of his conversations? With a personal accusation? 

“That’s alright. We all do it sometimes,” he shrugs again. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear and lowers his voice. “You’re not gonna fake it with me, though,” he says, and the terrifying thing is that he sounds genuine. It’s not unfounded cockiness or meaningless bravado. He means what he says in all seriousness. He says it like you shouldn’t worry about it. Like it’s a promise. 

And you exhibit monumental self-control to not clench your thighs together at this moment. 

Your mind races at a million miles a minute. That, you didn’t expect. Isn’t that all that porn is? Fake, overblown orgasms for the girls and endless, guaranteed pleasure regardless for the men? You’re starting to think that this may not be the case with him. You think about the videos you watched as part of your ‘research’, and a bolt of electricity zips up your spine. You never doubted that he made his costars feel good, but you know full well that a lot of porn actresses pretend that they’ve cum with their scene partner. But with him, now you know: all of the girls weren’t acting. In fact, you really doubt that they needed to fake just how good he made them feel. The last video you watched of him comes back to mind… you wonder if he’ll make you scream like that too.

Unsure of how to respond to that, you just take a small step backwards to put some distance between you two. Room to think and process if possible. But he’s relentless, and he seems to like getting up in people’s space. A mischievous glint in his eye tells you that he’s enjoying this particular encounter especially. He’s definitely the type of guy that finds it fun to make girls flustered or nervous. 

You swallow hard. 

“You sound rather confident,” you note, still trying your best to hold eye contact with him. To not back down or seem weak. You’re sure it’s not working. You just refuse to melt all over him, or suck up to him. Especially not when he’s the one who asked you here.  

Surprisingly, he smirks. “Shouldn’t I be? I’ve done my research, I know you probably have done yours as well.” 

So you were right. Yeosang, too. San has seen your content before. And not only has he seen your previous works, he was right there with you, watching your last live. Your speculation sounds a lot like confirmation now. 

“Does that make you nervous, kitten?” He whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side like he’s about to kiss you. He could if he just leaned forward a couple more inches. 

A little, you admit to yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest like it’s trying to push you forward, to get closer to him. At this proximity, you can easily smell his cologne and dammit, somehow it makes him even more attractive. You’re almost getting annoyed with him now. Surely there should be at least one flaw to him, something that makes him human like the rest of the world. 

“No,” you lie, “I’m fine.” Arms crossed. Eyes up. 

San laughs lightly, and his smile instantly becomes the most attractive thing about him so far, even if it’s at your own expense. 

“If you say so,” he shrugs again. 

He doesn’t move away from you, though. Not right away. His gaze lingers on your lips for a fleeting moment, which gives you just enough time to come up with a question of your own. 

“So, you’re a fan of mine?” 

At that, he pauses. But, he doesn’t shy away from it. 

“Yeah,” he says, owning up to it immediately. He straightens back up as you nod, taking in the information. “Have been for a while now. I saw that other collab you did with that guy, it was really fuckin’ hot.” 

You make a mental note to let Yeosang know he was right about that, as well. To be honest, you weren’t expecting the compliment.  

“I’m– glad you liked it,” you say, clearing your throat in the middle of the sentence. You’re doing pretty well on the outside despite your nervousness beginning to rise again on the inside. San studies you once more, like he’s searching for something on you that only he can see. You step back again and turn your face away from him as you take a sip from your water bottle, taking your time to screw the cap back on. 

“Mm… you’re even prettier in real life,” he says, so casually it almost doesn’t register. 

You nearly swallow wrong, just barely avoiding choking on the small amount of water still left in your mouth. Luckily, Director Choi calls over to you two to start making your way onto set. 

The final few minutes begin to tick down.  

You don’t attempt to hide the deep breath you take, but you do try to not make it very noticeable. Placing the water bottle onto the chair you were just in, you clear your throat again. 

“Any final advice or warnings for me before we start?” You ask, keeping your voice casual and light. It’s a subtle dig to him, but you mean no malice behind the words. Fortunately, he picks up on it. 

“Oh, tons,” he grins, keeping pace with you onto the set. It’s almost easy to forget the cameras.  

You steal a glance at him as you walk, the floor bitterly cold beneath your feet. With each step the bed gets closer and closer. Now finally getting a chance to see the set in detail, you’re pretty impressed. It’s a pretty realistic bedroom setting, complete with shelves decorated with trinkets and records, but vague enough to have no specific personality. Nobody’s going to be admiring the set design when they watch this. Still, you appreciate the effort made by the production team to make it feel real. 

The lights facing you are blinding and you wince when you accidentally look right into one. Good incentive to not look that way, you suppose. 

San sits on the edge of the bed. “You get used to it,” he says, nodding towards the lights. 

You nod as well, placing a hand above your heart, willing it to stop racing. 

Noticing this, San takes your hand and guides you to sit down next to him. You do feel a bit better now that you’re sitting. You keep your eyes down to avoid burning your retinas, and turn your head slightly towards him. He shifts a little closer, positioning his body so he’s facing you. 

“Nervous?” He asks rhetorically, knowing full well that you are. He’s still holding your hand, playing with each of your fingers one by one. 

“Obvious?” You reply, managing to laugh at yourself, despite your nerves. 

San grins, his eyes turning into crescents, and that dimple in his cheek reappearing. “Only a little bit. But, I’ve seen worse.” 

You hum in response. Being reminded of his experience, leaps and bounds ahead of yours, does nothing to help your anxiety. You just hope you can live up to the fantasy version of your own self. That’s the version of you he invited. 

Where’s Britney when you need her?  

You push your hair back, a minute attempt to self-soothe in some way. You only realize halfway through the action that Rina probably just clutched her pearls somewhere past the lights, cursing you for messing up her work. Oh, well. According to what you’ve seen and the information you’ve gathered, your hair’s gonna be plenty messed up anyway. 

The room is starting to become a lot less crowded. Just like Hongjoong had said, only the essential people stay on set to make sure everything goes smoothly and safely. Everyone else becomes fading background noise, filtering out into the hallway you first came in from. 

But less distractions means you notice the man right next to you even more. 

You can feel San’s eyes on you. 

It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, quite the opposite actually. The weight of it is light, soft around the edges as he appreciates how he managed to practically will you onto this set with him. You’d been sure you may be insecure around him because of his almost unnatural beauty, but… actually, having his eyes on you right now makes you a bit more confident. He’s not looking at anyone else but you. Not just looking, but admiring. 

His gaze drifts down, greedily drinking in the sight of your collarbone and legs – the only skin you’re revealing at the moment. If the crew would just hurry up, he’ll be able to see more. 

Fortunately, he’s never been one to wait to get what he wants. Especially not in this industry. And right now, he wants you. 

“I meant it, by the way,” he says quietly, “you’re beautiful.” 

Without any water to choke on, or an interruption from the director, you simply look up at him, finally meeting his eyes. There’s no trace of irony anywhere. Not in what he said, and not hidden somewhere within his features. The genuinity, and the doubling-down of the compliment takes you aback. 

“Thank you… you’re quite beautiful yourself.” You compliment him back, shifting how you’re sitting to face him as well. 

By now, your knee is touching his. Even this small amount of contact between you makes your shoulders tense again. You’re not sure why, but you just want to melt into him already. Perhaps due to the undeniable attraction you feel towards him. 

Maybe it’s the insane sexual tension between you both, that very well could be the root cause as well. 

You remember how real his scenes look… this must be how the chemistry is kindled. Starting before the cameras capture anything, it makes it all seem less like a show. And you know what? Until the director yells ‘cut’, you’re more than willing to match that energy.

His hand moves from yours to rest on your thigh, slowly, like he’s silently asking for permission to continue. When you don’t flinch or push him away, he hikes up your skirt just an inch or two higher, exposing more of your skin. The light ghost of his touch makes you freeze in place. It’s already dizzying enough to have him in such close proximity, and now adding in the electricity of his touch, it’s a whole other level. And this, you assume, is just the warmup. Getting you used to the feeling of his hands on you. It’s nice that it doesn’t feel wrong. 

The lighting crew dims one of the lights and one of them loudly asks the director if it looks good on camera. Distracted, you turn back to look their way again, but San gently cups your face with his hand, making you face him instead. 

He hums, looking down between your still-clothed bodies. His other hand dips under the hem of your skirt, and your breath hitches. Worrying too much about the crew still, you look back to see if this is alright to do before the cameras start rolling. 

“Don’t look at the camera, kitten,” San purrs, “I believe that was rule number five.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you mumble without any real bite to your words. 

That smile of his returns, and the energy between you becomes even more charged. The moment right before someone gives in after holding back for too long. 

San never looks anywhere else, entirely focused on you. It doesn't matter to him that there’s about twenty people still in the same room, all witnessing this ‘warm-up’ unfold. It barely fazes him. He’s experienced in this setting, way more used to it than you are. You just have to roll with it. 

His hand on your face drops back down to the mattress as his wrist turns, and you inhale sharply when he lightly drags his fingers through your wet folds. He hums again, clearly satisfied. 

“What’s got you this wet already, kitten?” 

Your lips part to answer, but he finds your clit before you can speak. This time, you gasp quietly before you can stop yourself. Once again, you glance over at the crew, wondering if anyone is watching the two of you. You can’t see very well because of the lights and the various equipment in the way, but several of the crew and team are. 

San smirks, pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your clit. “You like the attention?” He asks, following your gaze. “It’s different from your little camshow isn’t it? Now the audience is only a few feet away…” 

His fingers begin to move in small circles, occasionally dipping further down to collect your wetness before bringing it back up to your clit. 

“San–” you breathe, catching his wrist in a semi-firm grip. Not to move it away, but just to hold onto something. Jesus, the shoot hasn’t even officially started yet, but you’re about to beg them to hurry up so it can. 

San just moves closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in your cute expression. His voice is quieter, so only you can hear him. “Already thought about all the ways I’m gonna make this pretty cunt cum for me. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.” 

Another promise. 

A shiver runs down your spine, and that’s the moment the crew decides that they’re ready to shoot. 

San pulls away like nothing happened, even smoothing down your skirt for you. You force yourself to breathe through your nose, steadying your pulse. You quickly look down, checking to see if your top is still on straight.  

Director Choi walks up to you both for final notes. “Alright, no script so we’re mostly gonna follow your lead, just let us know when one of you needs a quick break. All three cameras are going to be rolling, and one handheld. You remember all the rules?” He looks over to you. 

You nod quickly, unable to meet his eye right now. The back of your hand lifts to your cheek to check how hot it’s gotten – as if you need additional confirmation. You hope you didn’t smudge your makeup or wipe some of it off by accident, but you imagine that if it shows up on camera, they’ll stop to fix it. 

“Okay, then we’re ready to go.” 

San thanks him as he walks off, turning his attention back onto you. Your gaze has dropped down to your lap, breaths kind of erratic from the little show you and him just put on, and from nerves. But you manage to pull yourself together, externally at least. All you really have to do now is look pretty for the camera. You can do that. Except for the live audience, this isn’t much different to a camshow, really. 

And aren’t you here for your fans anyway? Sure, you also wanted the opportunity and experience, but it’s also for your fans. The ones who supported you enough to even get noticed by Afterdark and San in the first place. You imagine they’ll make up at least half of the view count whenever this video drops. You’re performing for them. Not for the strangers in the room. 

Once that clicks for you, all your anxiety melts away, freeing you to finally just… enjoy this. Why not? You deserve it. 

Plus, you’re quite eager to pick up right where you and San left off just moments ago – and it seems that San is too. 

His gaze becomes heavier, darker as he shifts into his on-screen persona. 

“C’mere, kitten, want you on my lap to start.” He says, moving back on the bed a little more and gently pulling you towards him. 

You straddle his legs, slow to sit down fully. Now slightly above and closer than before, you can’t look anywhere else but at him. His hands slowly trail up your thighs again, watching you the whole time. You stop breathing when his fingertips tease the hem of your skirt again. He can probably feel through those dress pants he’s in how wet you are. Equally though, you can feel how hard he’s getting. 

Subtly, you grind your hips down onto him. The immediate pleasure of the friction against your bare pussy makes your eyes roll back. One of his hands sneaks to your hip, gripping it tightly, and you meet his eyes again. 

“It’s just you and me,” he says quietly, breath fanning across your cheek. 

You nod, eyes fluttering closed again as you grind into him once more. “Okay…” 

Through your pleasurable hazy fog, you faintly hear someone yell, ‘Action!’. 

And San stops holding back. 

The hand on your hip pushes you back and pulls you in, encouraging you to keep grinding on him – and to not stop anytime soon. His other hand moves to your hair, keeping your face close to his as he finally kisses you. His lips are pleasantly soft, and he tastes like peppermint. You hope you do too, you probably brushed your teeth at least four times before the driver showed up outside your apartment building. San seems to have no complaints as he moans quietly, his hand tightens in your hair. 

Your whole body feels electric, every touch amplified by a thousand. He makes out with you slow and deep, savouring the taste of you, and groans into your mouth with each roll of your hips. 

San tilts your chin up to kiss your neck, hiding his face from the camera. “Never answered my question,” he whispers, barely audible so his voice doesn’t get picked up by any of the overhead microphones. 

You disguise your response as a moan, “Hm?” 

He licks a small stripe up your neck, right up to your ear and looks down between you. You follow his gaze, only to find a wet patch staining his pants already. 

Ah. 

His question from mere minutes ago: What’s got you this wet already? 

“So wet for me,” he murmurs, a bit louder. It’s alright if the microphones pick that up. “Wonder why…” 

It’s the knowing smirk that does it. You move to undress him first, intriguing him. He didn’t expect you to be so bold right out of the gate. But, you have an on-screen persona of your own. Now both of your characters are out to play. 

In your dwindling patience, you come close to just ripping the shirt off when you fumble with one of the buttons. San finds your lips again as you push the offending fabric off of him, eager to explore his newly exposed body. But you’re next. 

Both of his hands lift up your shirt until it comes off over your head, forcing you two to break apart for a moment. Neither of you wait to make up for that lost time. You drape your arms around his shoulders, one of your hands lightly tugging at the roots of his hair. At first, your whole body erupts in goosebumps from the cold air now hitting your upper body as well, and not just your arms, but you can’t blame your reaction entirely on the temperature. 

San must notice how your shoulders hunch a little and how you press further into him, because he is quick to warm you up. 

One arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, chests touching. The first brush of your peaked nipples against his skin makes you gasp into his mouth. He nips at your bottom lip, distracting you while his hand moves from the back of your head, down to one of your breasts. His thumb flicks over the sensitive bud there and you have to duck your head down to catch your breath for a second. You grind down onto him again, adding to your arousal tenfold. 

Refusing to prolong this any longer, San suddenly flips you onto the bed, underneath him. His hand returns between your legs, fingers shallowly dipping into your entrance and circling your clit. He keeps just out of your reach, his lips so frustratingly close to yours. You glance down to watch him. The visual of his hand disappearing underneath your skirt, the veins in his arm beginning to rise and pop, and the heat of his body against yours is all starting to add up. 

You tug at your own skirt, looking up at him with doe eyes. He nods twice, understanding. In no time at all, your skirt is unzipped and pulled down your legs, discarded somewhere onto the floor. 

Now fully exposed, San pauses. 

The tempo of the scene slows abruptly as he takes his time to look at your body, laying so prettily beneath him. He looks at your body like he’s deciding where to start first, with too many enticing options. You drag your hands down his chest, lightly scratching him and making him shiver in the process. This, you realize, is how he makes every scene feel legit. He takes his time to admire his partner, make them feel admired and wanted. You have to admit, it does work its magic. Not just for the audience, but for you as well. 

He catches both of your wrists, bringing your hands together to kiss them both before guiding them down above your head. 

“Keep them here,” he murmurs, kissing you once more. 

You barely have time to enjoy or savor the taste of him again before he moves to kiss your neck. Eyes closing, you sigh into the feeling, wanting to commit this to memory. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, moving down to kiss your chest next. Soft, wet warmth once again wraps around your nipple and you arch your back to try and get more of it. You twist your hands in the sheets above you, keeping them anchored there just like he instructed. 

San then moves further down, ghosting his lips past your stomach. You part your legs to accommodate him, and he kneels on the floor, gently pushing your legs further apart. He drags this out, just to torture you, you think. His intentions and what he’s about to do are clear, but he’s a professional at driving his partners crazy. The kisses turn to licks, right next to your labia. So tantalizingly close. 

If your eyes were open, you’d see that he’s been watching you the entire time, trying to pace himself as best he can. You’re actually lucky there’s a job to do here because if it was just the two of you alone, he doesn’t think he’d be holding himself back from just taking what he wants. 

To him, this is all just a chance for him to prove himself to you. To him, you’re the star. And he’s going to make sure you leave this set more than satisfied. Wanting for nothing. 

But he’s not going to start until you beg him to. 

His breath fans across your wet lower lips and your hands find his hair again, trying to push his mouth where you need him. You hear him laugh, exhaling through his nose before moving your hands away. 

“Thought I told you to keep your hands up there, kitten,” he reminds you, with a slight warning edge to his voice. 

Oh, shit, you realize all too late. The last video flashes through your mind, and he feels you tense up. He kisses your hipbone to calm you down. 

“Be a good girl and keep them above your head,” he repeats his previous order. 

You nod quickly, “I’m sorry–” but he cuts you off by licking a thick wet stripe through your folds. Your breath hitches, and your hands stay cemented to the sheets, to hold on for dear life. 

When he repeats the action, the tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, making you see stars already. 

“Oh my god…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut again. 

Your hands itch to move back down to his hair, wanting to pull him closer and to push him away. You want to touch him again, but the fear of him reenacting the ‘Fantasy’ video keeps you frozen. 

As expected, his mouth is just as perfect as the rest of him. The softness of his lips against your core only stokes the dull heat in your lower stomach. He alternates between focusing more on your clit, and dipping his tongue into your entrance. The most addicting part is that he’s moaning while he eats you out, like the taste of you is getting him off. You hope he lets you return the favor. 

He readjusts his hands on your thighs when they threaten to close around his head, opting to push them back towards your chest. Your toes curl as he sucks your clit hard, and you can’t help the high-pitched sound that escapes your mouth. He does it again, and again, getting you louder each time. 

“Look at me, baby,” he breathes, his nose brushing up against your sensitive clit as he speaks. 

You whimper as you lift your head up, resting on your elbows to not strain your neck. He meets your eyes for just a second before shoving his tongue into your hole, rubbing his nose against your clit again. You cry out, throwing your head back as the pleasure increases and squirm in his strong grip. Legs shaking and breath uneven, it’s clear that you’re close. Now you’ll get to see what he has planned for you. The two boxes you checked off, ‘Rough’, and ‘Gentle’ come back to haunt you. 

A moan cuts you off as you try to warn him that you’re close, but he can tell without needing to hear you say it. He’s been the cause of enough female orgasms to see the warning signs of one approaching. Two of his fingers suddenly dip into you as he sucks on your clit, hooking deep inside and prodding your g-spot over and over again. 

His voice is rough and gravelly against your pussy, “Cum for me, baby. Wanna taste it.” 

A bolt of electricity runs through you as you cum, shaking and moaning while it gradually subsides. The heat in your lower stomach cools off but stays simmering now, waiting to be rekindled again. You whimper, raising your head back up to look at him. He’s in his own world between your legs, gently licking your pussy and your inner thighs clean. Your core clenches around his fingers when he slowly starts to drag them out, and he smirks. He lowers your legs back down, kissing your knee and doing a quick check to make sure you’re okay to continue. 

You answer that check by sitting up and pulling him towards you, kissing him even more hungrily than before. He hasn’t even wiped his mouth yet, but you don’t care. Without breaking the kiss, he follows you back down onto the bed, sucking on your tongue and wrapping a hand around your throat. Not tight enough to restrict airflow, but just enough to make your head feel light. He grinds his still-clothed erection into you, and the friction makes your head spin. You don’t know if you’re allowed to move your hands or not, but you just want to touch him so badly. You want to grip his length, make him feel just as good, taste him too. 

For now, you just roll your hips up into his, moaning into his mouth. 

“Want it…want you,” you mumble, parting from his lips for just a second to tell him that. 

San hums, lazily kissing your jaw. “What do you want, kitten? Be specific.” 

You groan inwardly, but you know he has to prolong this a little. Damn… for a while, you forgot about the reason you’re currently underneath him. You sneak a glance over to your left, seeing where the set ceiling abruptly stops and opens up to the industrial interior of the Afterdark building. He notices your focus straying, and he’s quick to act. 

“Tell me,” San redirects you, blocking your view by kissing the left side of your neck and distracting you from everything else by keeping his hard-on pressed right up against your bare pussy. His voice is firmer. A small warning and reminder of rule number five. 

You take a deep breath before you voice what you want, “Wanna suck your cock… please, sir.” 

It’s the ‘sir’ that nearly kills him. You really have done your research, haven’t you? You know that’s what he likes to be called, especially when his scene partners are feeling extra submissive to him. Are you feeling that way already? Maybe you just really want to do this for him. San studies you for a second, confirming the latter. He can see how much you actually mean it by the way you look up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

And who is he to deny you? Especially when you ask so nicely. Plus, he’s been wanting to feel your mouth wrap around his cock since he watched your livestream. 

“Yeah?” He asks, biting the space where your neck meets your shoulder and pressing up against you again. 

You give him your best doe-eyed look, really tapping into your innocent act. “Yes, sir.” 

San helps you sit upright again and stands at the foot of the bed, starting to undo his belt. Wanting to be an active participant, you lean forward, dragging your lips down and across his abs, occasionally licking at his soft, honeyed skin. His belt hits the floor, and your hands are quick to do the rest. It’s a little hard to get the zipper down, but you manage it, successfully removing his pants. You’re just about to deal with his underwear next, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him. You stumble a little as you find your footing on the floor, and let him lead you over to a chair against the set wall. It’s a better angle for the cameras, you assume. For him, he just wants to watch you do this properly. He wants nothing to obstruct his view, or the camera’s. 

San pushes his hair back as you drag the final piece of clothing away from his body. You avert your eyes until the very last second, tossing the garment off to the side to join the sad little pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Now you take your time, pressing a kiss to his knee, slowly rising up onto yours the further up you move. You hear his breath shift, and you finally glance up to face his cock. 

Somehow, it’s bigger than it looks on camera. 

You have no idea how that’s possible – you know about the fish eye lenses and tricks the porn industry will use to make someone’s dick look bigger than it is, but right now, you’re presented with the exact opposite. It’s larger in real life. This, you were not expecting, but it is such a pleasant and welcome surprise. And of course, it’s just as pretty as the rest of him.  

Both of these things combined only make you want to put your mouth on it even more. 

When you delicately wrap your hand around it, he hisses at the long-awaited contact. A hand tangles into your hair, not pulling you towards him, just resting there for now. San leans back against the chair, his toned body a feast for the cameras and for you. You remind yourself not to rush, and to savor this. 

Wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, you tease him a little by ghosting your lips up his length, watching him shiver and bite his lip. You kiss the tip, and linger there for a second, acting like you’re about to put him in your mouth, only to move away, kissing his hipbone next and stroking him with your hand. 

His grip tightens in your hair. Knowing he wants you to hurry up, you let go of him for a moment to spit in your hand before quickly returning to it. He groans a bit louder, head falling back a little as you gently twist your wrist, squeezing at the base of his cock. 

Finally, you lick him from the base to the head before wrapping your lips around him. His other hand balls up into a fist, but that’s the only reaction he gives away for now. You relax your jaw as much as you can, trying to accommodate his size before sinking down lower. You can taste his pre-cum in the back of your throat, coating your tongue. 

If you were annoyed with his apparent perfection before, you’re pissed now. How does he also taste good too? 

As if to get back at him somehow, you wrap your lips tighter around his cock and suck hard, which earns you a choked moan from him. You hum around him, amused and pleased with yourself. His hand shakes slightly as he pushes your hair back, the other one in your hair starting to guide you even further down. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag on it, forcing yourself to relax and remember to breathe through your nose. 

“Fuck, baby…so good,” He groans, starting to struggle to keep his eyes open. 

The visual of you choking on his cock is better than he could’ve ever imagined it to be. You don’t try to fight against him when he pushes you down or pulls you back up, simply letting him use your throat as he wishes. Even though you’re gagging and your eyes are watering, you don’t try to pull off. Not even when he shoves you down, making you fit his entire length into your throat, and holds you there for ten seconds. The longest ten seconds of your life. Your nails dig into your thighs, creating angry red crescent-shaped indents in your skin. His cock twitches in your throat and you whimper, keeping your gag reflex at bay. When the ten seconds are up, he lets you pull off of him completely to catch your breath. 

You cough into your shoulder, one of your hands wrapping around him again to make sure he still feels good. San can't help but praise you, leaning down to kiss your forehead, cupping your face with his hand to make you look at him. It’s a subtle check-in moment. Nothing between you is said out loud, but he searches your face for any signs of discomfort or stress of any kind. He’s rather relieved to find none, only your glossy eyes staring back at him, lips parted and breath heavier than before. Ready to go again or continue on. 

Whatever he wants. 

San shivers as you gently twist your wrist again, returning your lips to the head of his dick, kitten-licking the pre-cum that still leaks out there. You hope he’ll cum in your mouth. A rare hope, as you’ve never quite enjoyed the taste of it before, but with his track record so far, you’re willing to bet you’ll enjoy it this time. To encourage this dream to happen, you spit onto the head of his cock twice, collecting some of it with your hand already around his length, and the rest with your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. 

You hear soft footsteps behind you, and naturally, your first instinct is to whip around to see who it is. Luckily, your conscience kicks in, reminding you of where you are, and you’re able to stop yourself before you can even move an inch. It’s probably one of the crew leaving the set, you figure. But it sounds close by. 

As if to prove you right, soon there’s a figure or a shadow looming just out of your peripheral vision on your left, holding something. To combat every urge within you to turn around, you close your eyes and steal another kiss from San, who lazily kisses you back. He doesn’t seem to mind that your lips are covered in spit and pre-cum. Not one bit. His groans have increased the more you stroke his cock, one of his hands grips the arm of the chair in an attempt to ground himself. Harder, faster, your wrist begins to burn from exertion, but determination keeps it going. You’ll get a damn brace if you need to. 

“God–” he grunts, looking down at your hand. 

“Want you to cum too,” you say, looking up at him, almost pleading. 

San’s eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, a full body shudder wracking through him before he is able to compose himself again. 

“And where do you want me to cum, kitten?” He asks, his volume raising slightly, caressing your cheek. 

“In my mouth, sir.” You reply, also loud enough for the microphones to pick up. 

He all but shoves you down. You barely have time to make sure your teeth aren’t grazing his dick with every bob of your head as his hand returns to your hair, guiding your movements once again. This time, with just a fraction less of his notorious self control. You’re able to keep up easily, sucking harder whenever you’re closer to the head of it, and using your tongue as much as you can. 

San swears under his breath, hissing at your previously unknown skill level. It takes every ounce of composure to not fuck your throat the way he wants to. He’d be so mean to you if you’d let him. He wouldn’t have kept himself down your throat for ten measly seconds, it would’ve been until you tried to push yourself off, desperate to breathe again. That would’ve been heavenly, to feel your throat constrict around his cock, in search of air. But not for the first scene together. 

If there’s a next time, maybe that’s when he’ll let go just a little more. Show that side of him and see how you cope with it. For now though, he’s content to just enjoy the sight of you taking him in your mouth, wanting to make him cum. And you’re damn near close to achieving that. 

He ignores the cameraman standing barely two feet from you, and leans back again, relaxing his body as his dick twitches incessantly in your mouth. Every time his tip hits the back of your throat, sparks of electricity shoot up his spine. 

“Fuck… ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum… mmf–” San moans, head tilting back against the chair. 

You don’t change anything about what you’re doing, just continuing until finally, he releases into your mouth. Just like you wanted him to. And it’s just as you predicted. The taste of it makes you want him to cum in your mouth again and again, surprisingly pleasant. Slightly bitter, yes, but not overly so. You swallow around him, not pulling off just yet. You won’t until you suck him dry, until he pushes you off from overstimulation. Maybe subconsciously, it’s because you know he loves to overstimulate his scene partners – a subtle payback for all of them. You try to hide your grin as you finally release him. Not a single drop wasted. You swallowed everything. 

San looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, fighting to keep his chest rising and falling in a steadier rhythm. You lick your lips just for good measure, and he snaps. 

His hands return to your face and the back of your head, pulling you towards him to kiss you deeply. You moan into his mouth as his tongue slips into yours, not caring in the slightest that can taste himself. As you straighten up on your knees, you can feel how wet you still are, and you can’t help but be a little surprised. You’ve never gotten wet from sucking dick before. If he finds out, it’ll go right to his ego, no doubt. 

But before he can, there’s an abrupt, loud clacking sound to your left, and at first, you think someone must have dropped something. San makes a quiet, irritated sound before pulling away, glancing towards the director. The cameraman right next to you moves away, going back over towards the others and adjusting something on his camera. You feel slow to catch up on what’s happening, looking back up at San for help. 

“We’re breaking for a second,” he explains, still out of breath. 

Ah. 

“Are you alright?” You ask him, without thinking. You’re not even sure why you asked that. 

San blinks, processing your question as well before nodding once, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” 

There’s a fleeting moment between you that you can’t describe. Something deeper than the scene now that you’re out of it. It’s the way he’s looking at you, void of any facade or persona meant for the cameras. Almost like he’s curious about something. 

No one ever really asks him if he’s alright. 

Just as quickly as the moment appears, it’s gone. You hear a flurry of movement and murmured conversations on your left as you sink back onto your heels, processing everything. Your eyes close as you try to focus on your breathing now that nothing is blocking your throat, deep inhales and slow exhales.  

“You okay?” San asks as well, eyebrows furrowing in what appears to be genuine concern. 

“‘M okay… honest.” You nod as you speak to emphasize that you’re truly alright. One more prolonged exhale, and you roll your shoulders back, heart-rate decelerating back to its default speed. One of your hands reaches up to massage your aching jaw. 

Opening your eyes again, you accidentally make eye contact directly to his cock, still right in front of your face. It’s laying against his stomach, still slightly twitching, but… not softening. At least not as much as you’d expect it to. Surely, he can’t still be hard after coming. However, at this point, you wouldn’t put it past him to have a practically nonexistent refractory period. Might as well tack it onto the list of things he has been blessed with in life. 

San runs a hand through his hair, looking over towards someone who must be talking to him. You watch his eyes follow them until you see for yourself who it is – one of the assistants that had been in his little circle when he first walked out of his dressing room. He hands him a robe, and quickly walks off. You feel a small nudge at your shoulder and find one of the other assistants – the one that had handed you the blanket earlier – extending a robe towards you. You take it gladly, your body heat crashing down again now that nothing is happening, and the frigid air conditioning reminding you why you asked for a blanket in the first place. He also gives you a water bottle with a straw poked through the plastic cap, and you drink it down gratefully. 

Director Choi calls over Youngmi and Rina, and they’re quickly by your side, touching up your hair and makeup. You scoot back a little on the floor, giving San some space as his own team descends around him. Still, through the quiet rush of activity separating the two of you, your eyes stay glued to him. 

Once the four hair and makeup girls leave, you hear Hongjoong from somewhere behind you. You both look towards his voice, standing near the director. A young woman you haven’t seen milling around the set before stands right next to him, also in a short silk robe almost identical to yours from what you can see of it past the lights. Your chest burns. She’s gorgeous, and seems to only get prettier the more you look at her. She looks between Hongjoong and San expectantly, as if waiting for a regular cue. Totally relaxed. You look back down at your hands in your lap, toying with the hem of your robe. It’s obvious what she’s there for. You wonder if she’s been watching the whole time as well. 

But San is quick to rid you of any worries. 

Actually, he seems a little annoyed as he waves Hongjoong and the woman off, before turning his attention back to you. He helps you stand up, slowly to ensure you won’t get dizzy, and leads you back over to sit on the foot of the bed. Back where you started, in your own little bubble together in front of the lights and the cameras.  

Once settled again, San tilts your head up, his pointer finger under your chin, and holds it there, effectively disrupting your train of thought. He can almost see the self-doubt threatening to cloud your mind, even if you try to hide it behind your on-camera mask. He simply won’t have it. His other hand cups your cheek, making sure you don’t try to look anywhere but at him right now. 

“‘M still hard for you, kitten,” he says quietly, just for you. He moves closer, his thumb running over your bottom lip. “Made me feel so fucking good… doing so well…” 

You can’t help but blush at his praise. He’s so attentive, it’s a little shocking. You expected him to be, due to the videos you watched, but off-camera as well? 

To thank him, you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it lightly, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. You want him to snap again. To just fuck you stupid already, to not wait for the production team to be ready. God, you just want to stop thinking and overthinking. You lean into the hand holding your cheek, humming at the comfort it provides. 

One of your hands wanders between you, trailing up his thigh. You want to feel it for yourself, even though the robe does little to conceal the truth in his statement. Nevertheless, your confidence is rekindled once more when you feel him through the silk, hard and ready for you. He hisses at the contact, resting his forehead against yours for a moment or two before straightening again. A low groan from him makes your thighs clench together. 

“Sorry, sir,” you whisper, grinning mischievously now that you’re the one teasing him.  

San laughs once, breathy and short. 

“You really have done your research on me, huh?” He smirks, watching you slowly move his robe aside to touch him properly. He tenses a little at the initial contact, but gradually relaxes again as his body gets used to it. 

You shrug, playing it cool. “Wanted to see what I was getting myself into,” the corners of your mouth twitch as you slowly stroke his cock, watching for his reactions. 

“And–” he clears his throat before continuing, “what do you think so far?” 

Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and you’re taken aback again by his genuineness. He’s not just asking to ask or to boost a sky-high ego, he really does want to know. Still, you want to keep him intrigued. Maybe you even want him to try and prove himself to you a bit.  

“Well… I’m still wet for you,” you admit, casting your eyes down towards your lap. “But I think I’ll give you a final verdict later.”  

San hums, remembering the taste of you, and how wet you were for him to start. His eyes trail downwards, towards your chest, which is slowly becoming more and more revealed as your robe loosens.     

“Deal,” he whispers, slowly leaning in to kiss you. 

Before he can though, you squeeze his member a little harder, your thumb circling the tip, making his mind nearly go blank. San shudders and leans back on his hands, his robe also loosening little by little, revealing his chest and the top of his abs to your hungry eyes again. He steals a quick glance over to the crew, before just taking matters into his own hands. 

As soon as his robe comes off, he tosses it in the camera’s direction. A rather obvious way of telling everyone the break is over. Director Choi quickly stands from his chair, shooing away a production assistant and waving another one over to collect the robes. You take yours off as well, tossing it onto his, and San eases you down onto your back, kissing you just as deeply as before. 

You shiver, finally underneath him once more. The promise of what’s to come thunders through your mind. He slots his knee in between your legs, keeping you open for him. You whine into his mouth when that knee raises slightly, pressing against your pussy. You can almost hear his smirk, confirming that you are indeed still wet for him. 

Well, he won’t make you wait any longer. 

And just in time too, because someone over on the left shouts, ‘Action!’. You feel kind of bad for stressing out the crew this much, but you can’t dwell on those guilty feelings when San is rubbing your clit again.

“Fuck… please…” you whimper, hips grinding up in search of something else.  

San moans, working himself up as he feels your pussy slicking all over his knee.  

“Are they gonna stop us again?” You ask, whispering in his ear. 

“They better fucking not,” San breathes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up, spreading your legs further apart so he can kneel between them. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows again, intent on watching. You clench around nothing as he grips himself, angling his dick down towards your pussy. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation and impatience. Your brain goes haywire just at the sight of his cock near where you need him most, knowing he’ll stretch you out, and knowing that you probably won’t last too long with his size. Hopefully, you won’t cum as soon as he bottoms out. 

San presses the tip to your hole, and you hold your breath. It’s so big, but you’re ready. You’re definitely wet enough to help get him inside without any help from spit or lube. Nevertheless, he spits right on your clit, pausing to make you feel it drip down through your folds. He taps the head of his cock against your clit a couple times, greedily watching your reactions. 

And much to your despair, he doesn’t push inside just yet. Instead, he drags his cock up and down your pussy. Slowly. Forcing you to feel every inch of it, just not where you need it. Your clit is so sensitive, every time he rubs up against it, you can’t help but whine pathetically. 

San hums, mocking you. “Hm? What’s wrong, kitten?” 

“Please fuck me already,” you exhale, whimpering at yet another tap of his cock against your clit. 

“Louder,” he instructs, not just to make you beg for it again, but also so the microphones pick it up. You’d forgotten all about them again, to be honest. “Ask me properly.” 

Another shiver runs through you, and you gasp when you feel the head of his cock return to your entrance. Just barely enough so you can feel it’s there. But it’s enough motivation. You spread your legs further apart to convince him, holding them up and back by hooking your arms around your knees. Fully exposed to his eyes, open and ready to be filled. 

“Please, sir, please fuck me. Want it so ba–” 

Your voice is cut off by a choked noise as he finally pushes into you. Quickly, you look down, watching him breach you. All of your air is punched out of you as he stretches you out, sinking deeper and deeper, inch by inch. He takes over the task of keeping your legs apart, and he stills for a second to give your body time to adjust to him. He’s just barely halfway in, and your brain already feels like mush. 

Maybe it’s a good thing because the same cameraman from before comes back, aiming the camera right at you two. Your body is so tense from the intrusion that you can’t look towards him, even by accident.

San swears under his breath, watching his cock disappearing into you as well. 

“So fucking tight… god, baby…” he grunts, adjusting his knees slightly closer to your ass so he can feed you more of his length. 

One of his hands tilts your chin up again, silently telling you to hold eye contact with him. His eyes flicker down only for a split second. 

Then he shoves the rest of his cock inside. 

A mix of a gasp and a yelp punches its way out of you. Your whole body is like a livewire. Alert, teetering on an electric edge. Your hands grip the sheets next to you, biting your lip. You can feel everything. Every inch, every vein dragging against your walls when he slowly pulls it back again. You both crave and dread the next time he pushes in, knowing it’s going to feel so overwhelmingly good. 

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re close to coming already. 

Wide-eyed, all you can do is stare up at him as he rolls his hips into yours. Your walls flutter around him, legs already beginning to shake. There’s no hiding it anymore. 

Amused, San leans down, pushing your legs back even more, deepening the stretch. He groans as your pussy contracts around him tight, wanting more. 

“What, kitten? Already?” San smirks, a windfall of pride rushing through him. As if he needed any more validation for how good at this he is.

Your face burns, having been found out. 

The next roll of his hips is sinfully languid, taking his time. Then, he really betrays you. One of his hands leaves the back of your thigh and he uses his thumb to rub your clit. You yelp, body buzzing from pleasure, and he takes this time to start fucking you properly, thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. 

“Mm, that’s it,” he says, twisting his wrist so he can rub your clit with two fingers instead. “Let me feel it.” 

You’re starting to think all you need in order to cum is for him to tell you to do it. Your second orgasm of the evening is a bit stronger than the first one because of the addition of penetration. It makes you feel very floaty once it hits, clenching around his cock in order to prolong it. 

Unlike last time, he gives you no recovery period. The second he sees your eyes refocus, he’s fucking into you again. Like he never stopped. Your hands grip his shoulders, knowing you’re in for it. The tags for this future video flash through your mind, overstimulation being one. You lay flat on your back now, unable to keep holding yourself up as another strong wave of pleasure crashes into you. A third orgasm building up again. 

His fingers on your clit press down harder, making tight circles over the sensitive bud. He only relents for a second, just to hook your legs over his shoulders, letting him get even deeper inside of you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, whining at the feeling. Your hands try to push at his chest, to make him stop, to make him straighten up, you’re not entirely sure yourself. 

There’s no energy behind your actions, but San still subtly checks in. “Feel good, kitten?” 

You choke on another moan, his cock getting dangerously close to hitting your g-spot. “Mm- I’m– good, feels s-so good.” 

“Yeah? You liked coming on my cock?” 

“Yes…” 

“Yes, what?” San punctuates his question by ramming into you hard, unexpectedly. 

You’re quick to correct yourself, “Y-yes, sir!”

“There you go,” he brushes some hair away from your face, “my good girl.” 

Your body melts at the praise, replaying it over and over again as the feeling builds up higher and higher. You don’t realize until San winces that your nails started to dig into his chest, leaving some red scratch marks in your wake. As soon as you see that, you instantly take your hands away, feeling so bad that you’ve hurt him unknowingly. 

But he puts them right back where they were. 

And he leans down to your neck to return the favor, biting and sucking the skin there to create dark red and purple bruises wherever he can. His thrusts become more powerful, angling down into you to make you see stars. The simmering heat in your stomach is stoked with each direct hit to your g-spot. It’s getting to be more of a challenge to breathe normally like this.

Especially as your third orgasm begins to crest. 

“‘M coming–” you warn him, but he knows already. He can feel it. 

He hovers over you, moving his hips precisely and slightly faster. He wants to watch you again. To see you fall apart for him again. Truthfully, he already feels a bit pussy-drunk. Starting to get addicted to the feeling of your warm, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around him, coming for him so prettily. And you don’t disappoint him the third time either. 

You’re loud this time, unable to control your volume. The third orgasm hits you like a truck, and it only builds higher and higher instead of gradually diminishing. You cry out, halfway through it. Something feels unfinished about it, and you’re desperate to chase it. Luckily, San knows exactly what you need. 

He quickly lowers your legs from his shoulders, jumping right into action to catch this. Your legs are held back, like the previous position they were in, and he returns his other hand to your lower stomach, pressing down hard. You can feel him moving inside of you. Your head falls back and you moan loudly, suddenly feeling everything tenfold. 

The sound is obscene, definitely pornographic. Wet, sloshing sounds, accompanied by your loud cries and moans fill the warehouse-like room of the eighth floor. His cock prods your g-spot every single time, building something insanely powerful that you’ve never felt before. You grab his wrist, looking up at him with slight fear in your eyes, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He’s determined, if anything. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, so affectionately it makes your brain melt. 

He adjusts his hand on your stomach just a little further down. At the same time that you feel him rubbing your clit again, he ducks down to suck on one of your nipples, and fireworks explode behind your eyelids. The quadruple stimulation makes you scream. 

“Gonna make a mess for me, kitten? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock again?” 

You don’t even have time to nod or reply in any way. A strong surge of pleasure smashes into you from all sides, whiting out your vision. It’s a feeling of release unlike any other that you’ve felt before, much harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. He keeps fucking you through it until your pussy forces him out, watching your body shake uncontrollably underneath him, soaking the sheets below you, and his lower body. Now you know damn well what kind of ‘rough’ you’ll be getting from him: overstimulation. Making you cum until you beg him to stop. 

San growls at the sight. It burns into his brain, and he can already say for certain that he’ll be jerking off to the memory of this later tonight and for days to come. 

Just to prolong it, he taps his heavy cock against your pussy and clit again, enjoying how you try to squirm away from it. 

You’re so wet, it’s audible. Every tap is loud, and a thin, stringy mixture of his spit and your slick clings to him for as long as it can whenever he pulls away. You reach for him, not knowing exactly what you want, but knowing you want him closer to you, and he obliges. He leans down over you again, slowly sliding his length between your puffy, wet folds. 

A familiar, faint voice from the left is ignored totally by you and him, too busy coming down from the most intense high of your life, and him holding you through it.  

An aftershock rattles you from head to toe, and you gasp when you feel it. The intense pleasure you felt gives way to sudden emptiness, and you realize you do not have anything to clench down on anymore. Though his dick is right there, dragging up and down your outer lips, it feels so far away from where you actually want it. 

Thankfully, sensing your dilemma – and hearing you whine for it – he doesn’t make you wait any longer. In your post-orgasmic haze, he guides you over onto all fours, now facing the foot of the bed. Ever the gentleman, he moves your hair out of your face. However, you imagine it’s so the camera can see your fucked out, dazed expression. 

His cock slips back inside of you easily, without any resistance, and the two of you groan in unison. In both relief and pleasure.  

That familiar, faint voice comes back. Clearer this time, and closer as well. “San… San! We’re taking another break now.” 

San kisses your shoulder blade, barely paying attention. “Okay, have fun,” he brushes the voice off, impatiently. 

You’d laugh if you had any coherent thoughts or spare energy left. No, you’re a bit preoccupied at the moment, your body trembling around his cock, and so happy that he’s pushed back into you. Truthfully, you don’t even care if you’re stressing out the crew anymore. All of your thoughts are about San. 

San smooths a hand up your spine, slowly pushing inch by inch into your soaked hole. He shushes you gently when you whimper, interlacing his fingers with yours when you try to reach back to find his hand to hold.  

“I know, kitten, it’s okay. Just relax.”

Easier said than done. 

He lightly presses your lower back, signalling you to arch it for him a little more. You nearly regret it when you feel him deeper than before in this position. Your elbows threaten to buckle, body shaking like a leaf. Yet, you still want more. Even though you’re nearing a certain point, wavering between overexertion and exhaustion, you crave more. You want to chase that feeling with him again. Make him glad he asked you to come here. Make him come back for more. So, you grit your teeth and keep yourself from face-planting into the mattress. For now, at least.  

San’s powerful pace resumes in no time, stealing every breath from your lungs. Another vague, quiet plea falls from your lips, and in response, he squeezes your hips, pulling them back to meet every thrust. Your throat is raw from all the noise you’re making, and you know you’ll have to drink some tea or honey tonight to get your voice back to normal. Not this thin, broken voice you have now. Your lower back aches from staying in this position, but you do your best to ignore it. 

It helps that his cock is basically in your stomach, that does a lot to distract you from a mere ache in your back. It also helps that your pussy is extra sensitive, coming three times – twice in a row without a break – and squirting for the first time. On camera, no less. Your viewers are going to lose their fucking minds. The image of your donation box on your livestreams, and your Venmo accounts skyrocketing after this video releases is motivation enough for you to want him to make you do it again. 

Your back arches even more, hips grinding back against his to get more of him somehow. 

Such a little natural.     

“Mmm, there you go. That’s it. Keep fucking yourself on my cock, pretty girl.” 

You make a noise, halfway between a whine and a moan and do as he says. Your chest grazes the sheets below you, chin buried into the mattress and arms gripping the edge of the bed in front of you. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, a couple of stray tears threatening to fall. “You’re s-so fucking deep.” 

San groans, increasing the pace. You yelp when you feel him smack your ass, and again when he hits it a second and third time. By the time the third strike lands, he doesn’t even give you any time to process the stinging pain he’s left behind before there’s a new one on the back of your head. 

Slightly dizzy, it takes you a second to realize you’re upright, on your knees. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots, and the other rubbing incessant circles on your swollen clit. His chest presses into your back, and he moves your head to face him so he can kiss you again. Mind threatening to wipe completely, you can’t fight to hold back your tears anymore. You shudder violently, and he groans as he feels your body struggle to keep up with him. He knows you can take it, though. You’re a fighter, he can tell. 

“Doing so well,” he whispers in your ear, “such a good girl for me, baby. Knew you would be. Knew I’d get this pussy to fall apart on my dick. Thought about it so fucking much…”

You whine against his mouth, tears wetting his face now as well. The blatant admission that he had thought about you like this before today goes straight over your head. 

All you hear is his praise. You’re doing well. Good enough for him, like you were so stressed about being. Nothing else matters to you anymore, now that you’ve earned his approval. A proud smile creeps across your face, and he grins at the faraway look in your half-lidded eyes. You’re so far gone. Completely pleasure-drunk.  

The hand in your hair tightens again and loosens, like it’s an afterthought now. Just something for him to hold onto. To keep you steady, if anything. Warm pressure building and building again in your stomach, you round your back as another shiver wracks its way through your body, making your spine tingle. His hand moves down to hold you by the back of the neck, and he slows his pace just enough to guide you back down onto the bed. This time, totally flat. Your pussy forces him out at this new position, but his other hand is quick to spread one of your ass cheeks apart, cock sliding back inside of you. 

He doesn’t ease you into his pace anymore. The first brutal thrust makes your eyes roll back, and your jaw falls open. Your nails claw at the bedding, every muscle in your arms straining while you hold onto the fabric for dear life.   

He’s so fucking deep. Impossibly, almost. 

He may just make you cum like this, without even needing to touch your clit. He’s making you learn so much about what your body can do when in the right hands. No wonder people are so obsessed with him. He’s become so in tune with your body so quickly, just by paying explicit attention to you this whole time. It makes you really appreciate his expertise, because he could easily have just used what has worked for other girls in the past. He probably could’ve made you cum like that as well, but he tailors himself for each girl. Adapts for them. For you. 

And he’s learning you pretty well. Probably read you like a fucking book. 

Every precisely angled thrust punches a moan out from deep within your chest. Each sound is partly muffled by the bedding, and you try to keep quiet, not wanting to be annoying. You can’t help it, though. Not when it feels this good. Certainly not when another orgasm is building, more rapidly than the others. 

You squirm under him, toes curling and nails digging into the mattress. 

“I– mmf–! You’re… you’re gonna make me cum again,” you have to speak quickly before it hits you. 

San leans over you, hands planted right next to your shoulders, fucking you harder. “Give it to me, pretty girl. I want every fucking drop.” 

Someone dressed in all black stands right in front of you, pointing something towards you. It doesn’t register that it’s the camera guy with the handheld camera for a couple seconds. You imagine he’s zooming in, capturing everything. He must know the future audience does not want to miss a single second of how you react to coming again, and how San won’t let up on you once you do… again. 

Your eyes shut tight once your fourth climax thunders through you. Pure ecstasy erupts in every vein. Euphoria clouds your brain. The sheets beneath you two become even more soaked, and you can feel your release dripping down your thighs. You must’ve been loud because your throat feels scratchy and rough all of a sudden, but your head is in such a rush that you don’t even hear anything. 

San holds you by your throat now, making you keep your face up. 

Just as you predicted, San doesn’t stop or slow his pace whatsoever. True to his promise that he’s ‘gonna make you feel so good’. Well, that promise is currently turning you into a limp, fucked out mess. You’ve never had this many orgasms so quick in succession before. It’s making your hormones go absolutely wild, and you cry harder, wetting San’s hand with your tears. The camera loves it. 

There are some sounds near you that you can’t be bothered to discern, and you just lean into San’s hand on your throat. Fully intent on just letting him do whatever he wants to you at this point. He pretty much already is. Although, you’re not entirely sure how many more times you can cum without passing out. You hope he’ll stop before that happens. You don’t want to embarrass yourself like that. 

San subtly taps your throat, getting your attention, before raising your head a little higher. 

You blink stupidly up at the cameraman in front of you, eyes half-lidded and heavy, struggling to keep them open. You flinch a little when you see that there are two more people in front of you, the director included. When did everyone get so much closer to the bed? All of them, you notice, are at least semi-hard. Director Choi nods behind the camera, muttering inaudible praises. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white, and pull them up towards your mouth to muffle your screams. Out of frame, Director Choi motions for an assistant to pull the sheets down, ripping your comfort away, exposing how loud you’re being. Tears sting your eyes, both from exertion and from the intense pleasure San is giving you. 

“Pussy’s so good… so tight and wet… could fuck you forever.” 

Director Choi silently motions for San to keep talking like that. 

San grunts, fighting to catch his breath enough to speak again. “Such a good girl… gonna make you cum again.” 

And he does. 

Before you even realize that it’s been simmering and building, it knocks into you sideways. This time, you can’t even scream. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out due to your body locking up. San releases your throat, worried that you’re not breathing – and he’s right. He slows down considerably, moving your hair away from your face to check on you. Your body slowly relaxes again underneath him, one muscle at a time, and a low, guttural groan tears itself from your throat. 

You can feel every inch of him dragging past your inner walls, and every slightest movement makes your pussy clench, trying to simultaneously push him out and suck him in further. Instead of continuing again, though, he pushes all the way into you one more time, and then stops. 

It’s somehow both torture and a relief. You feel so fucking full, but he isn’t doing anything to continue the dull flames that engulf your lower stomach, and yet you know it’s better than being empty. He could pull out, leave you to deal with that emptiness before you felt ready. He doesn’t. Appreciative thoughts swirl around your head and you cry harder, trying to hide your tears in the sheets. 

When the camera crew and director see that he’s not continuing, they call for another break. Everyone moves away, and there’s no longer a black cloud in front of you. 

San doesn’t move an inch, though.  

He brushes through your hair with his fingers, comforting you. He’s intent on waiting until you calm down, not wanting to push you too far before you’re ready. He knows he went a little crazy, instantly getting addicted to the feeling of you coming around his dick, and you deserve a break. As long as you need. 

But you’re addicted yourself. A real glutton for the pleasure he’s given you thus far. You push back and wiggle against him, trying to get him to move again. His hands push you down by your hips, keeping them still. You whine at the denial, looking over your shoulder at him with teary, red eyes. He almost gives in. 

“I know, baby. Just relax with me for a moment.” 

You pout, another tear roaming down your cheek. Deep down, you know he’s right. Your body has been pleading for a break two orgasms ago. It’s high time you listen to it. You collapse, finally letting yourself relax, solely focusing on the quiet murmur of the crew off to the side, and San’s fingers running through your hair. 

It’s a nice moment.  

Nicer still when San litters your shoulders and back with gentle kisses, helping you calm down. Clearer thoughts slowly begin to reenter your mind, and your breaths even out, relatively back to normal. Better than the mixture of shallow inhales, long periods of holding your breath, and gasps for air. Because of the improved air intake, your head finally feels like it’s stopped swimming. Little by little, your energy comes back. 

You take a deep inhale, sighing contently as you exhale it back out. Looking behind you again, you catch him already watching you. 

“Hi,” you mumble, half-smiling.

San smirks, his hand cupping your cheek. “Hey, pretty girl. Feel okay?” 

You nod, humming, and you subtly push back against him. The feeling of his cock pressing into you doesn’t shock your body as much as it did before. Now it’s a welcome, familiar feeling. Sought after. You really are addicted. Maybe even insatiable when it comes to how well he fucks you. 

With the other hand, he places a water bottle in front of your face, the same one with a straw poked through the cap from before. You don’t bother wondering where he got it from. You have a pretty good idea. They’re always everywhere during a break. 

Once you’re done with the bottle, he places it against one of the pillows, where it will no doubt be collected by a production assistant within seconds. 

You push back again, trying to get him to move. You hear him chuckle behind you. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” 

Instead of contradicting his statement, you just nod. Why lie? 

“Wanna make you cum too,” 

San hums, just barely rolling his hips into yours. “How do you wanna do that, kitten?” 

You steel yourself for what you’re about to do. Hoping he will let you go through with your plan, you pull yourself away from him, and he slips out of you. The emptiness hits just as hard as you thought it would, and you whimper at the initial feeling. If all goes to plan, you won't be for long. 

San watches you carefully as you turn to face him on the bed, gently pushing him back against the pillows. His hands instinctually rest on your hips as you straddle him, and he looks up at you, patiently waiting for your next move. At least, coming across as patient externally. You don’t miss how his dick twitches, eager to be engulfed by your warmth again. He must feel something equivalent to the emptiness you felt when you pulled away. 

You’ll fix that gladly. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the crew start to come back to their spots – lights, camera, microphones. They must have learned not to stay too far away when it comes to filming you two. You do your best to hide your grin. 

San helps you line up the head of his cock to your entrance, and you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders as you slowly sink down. His eyes flutter shut, eyebrows furrowing as he exhales shakily. Following his lead, you don’t give him much time to adjust before you start moving. 

You swear you hear him whimper. Just once, but you catch it nevertheless. 

He keeps his eyes down, locked between you, watching your cunt swallow his dick over and over again. You bite your lip, nails digging into his shoulders as his hands become more firm on your hips. The next time you sink down, he pulls you down hard. You gasp, not expecting it, and he attacks your lips once again. 

You kiss him back just as eagerly, increasing your pace. Your thighs already start to protest from the strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care or stop. Not when he’s moaning into your mouth like this. Every noise you pull out of him is pure music to your ears. A rhapsody you could hear a thousand times and not get bored of. You pull away from his lips just to hear him clearer, and he chases you. He nips your bottom lip, one of his hands slowly travelling up to knead one of your boobs again. 

Breaths mingling, you shiver in his hold. His other hand dips down to rest on your ass, squeezing the flesh there as you bounce on his cock. 

The heat of it all consumes you, drives you to get him to cum. You want to hear him. You want to repay him for making you cum four times, and put in just as much effort. 

It’s a battle to try and ignore your own pleasure, building up for a fifth time. You’re not convinced you can cum again. However, now you’re willing to see what happens. If you faint, you faint. 

You clench around him on purpose, grinding into him and rolling your hips, your gummy walls massaging his length and successfully driving him crazy. His head falls back against the headboard, and his fingers begin to leave bruises on your skin. 

“So fucking good,” he hisses, “such a good girl… gonna make me cum so hard.” 

The thought and image that accompanies it gives you a second wind of energy. Your hands move to his chest, and you press down as you continue to fuck him. 

“Want you to cum inside me,” you beg him, hot breath hitting his neck. You feel him shudder underneath you. 

San only nods, unable to speak. You lick a stripe up his neck, tasting the slight saltiness of his sweat and kissing the hinge of his jaw. Right next to his ear, you moan again, enjoying how he tenses up. 

Suddenly, both of his arms are wrapped around your waist, and he sits up a little more. One of his hands presses into your upper back, supporting you as he starts fucking up into you, seamlessly matching your rhythm. 

He lets out a choked moan, cutting it off by kissing you one more time before his eyes shut tight. 

“Gonna cum…fuck, I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, kitten. Gonna feel me for days.” 

You whine at his words, and he seems to have worked himself up further by saying it as well. 

“Please, sir, need your cum inside of me. Please give it to me–” 

San pushes you down onto your back before you can blink. Your legs wrap around him, and the pleasure increases for you almost instantaneously. When you look down, you swear you can see a slight bulge in your stomach. His lips attach to your neck, sucking and biting to muffle his moans as much as possible. Every sound he makes is so pretty. 

He pounds into you without any more room for mercy, concentrating on coming again. And he can feel that you’re close again too. 

“Cum with me,” he pants against your neck, “give me one more. Let me feel your pretty cunt cum on my cock one more time, baby.”          

One more. You nod, eyelids growing heavy again. Everything is perfect in this moment. The feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the head of it pressing against your g-spot and fanning the flames of your arousal until it engulfs you like wildfire; his soft, plush lips on your neck, his words in your ear, and his warm, firm skin under your hands. 

As if that all wasn’t enough, San spits on his fingers and starts to rub your clit again. 

Everything adds up to push you over the edge. 

You cry out, body completely spent as you weakly squirt for him again. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, adrenaline and euphoria taking turns to run through your bloodstream. The sheets beneath you are completely soaked through. Every sense is both heightened and dulled. Exhaustion pulls itself over you like a weighted blanket. 

And your climax triggers his.

True to his word, he comes deep inside of you, filling you up until it’s leaking. The additional warmth is comforting for a second, until your stomach begins to cramp a little bit. Not enough to hurt, but just enough for you to notice. You’re definitely not used to coming this much. 

San shudders violently before dropping to his elbows, careful not to crush you under his weight. Both of you catch your breaths, chests heaving as you coax air back into your lungs. You tangle one of your hands in his hair, holding him close to you as you take this moment to settle down. He buries his face in your neck, small, audible sighs occasionally escaping him. 

Unbeknownst to you, he’s never cum that hard before. Years of experience behind him, sure, he’s gotten close to this level, but never was able to reach it until now. 

Reluctantly, he slowly drags himself out of your pussy, eyes immediately glancing down to see his cum leaking out. He smirks as he watches you fight to keep it inside, not wanting to let it go yet. 

Then, like he does every single time, he ducks down to lick one more long, slow path up your pussy. Entrance to clit. A silent ‘thank you’. You whimper, legs closing when he pulls away. 

“Cut! Print it.” 

And he’s gone. 

You feel you just got a violent slap back into reality. 

What…just happened? You slowly push yourself up, with admittedly great difficulty. 

Half of the staff flutter around you, while the others flock to San’s side, covering him up in his robe and starting to lead him towards his dressing room. The production assistants assigned to you don’t say much, handing you the same water bottle as before and urging you to drink it all. You watch the cameraman and the director talk, leisurely packing everything up. Just another day at the office. It’s all over just like that. 

Meanwhile, you feel… stunned. Maybe even a little empty, and not just physically this time. You never thought about how aftercare is pretty much nonexistent in shoots like this. Everything is strictly business. Professional. Void of any emotion for the other ‘actor’. Still, as someone runs a brush through your messy hair, and someone else wraps a silk robe over your shoulders, you find that you cannot tear your gaze away from the direction of San’s dressing room door. Your eyes threaten to tear up, a dull yet powerful feeling of rejection blooming in your chest. 

Maybe you aren’t cut out for this type of thing, no matter how many offers you receive. Not if this is how it ends, as if nothing happened. Like none of it mattered. Another notch in Choi San’s belt. 

Director Choi suddenly appears in front of you, and you’re quick to act like nothing is wrong. “You did great,” he says, “thank you for your time today.” 

You manage a fake smile and thank him as well, apologizing for any issues you may have caused by being impatient or loud. 

He simply waves it off, “Happens more than you think. Have a good rest of your night, Miss Y/L/N. Maybe we’ll work together again in the future.” 

‘Maybe’. 

His words stick to you, gnawing at your skin like leeches. He truly didn’t mean to make you feel worse, you know that, and yet he really drove home just how… common you feel. Not special whatsoever after all. 

You imagine going back home and going live again. The notorious four exclusive viewers will want to know how it went, and you’re going to have to tell them something. You doubt you’ll be able to lie. Woo will probably be able to tell something’s wrong. 

Maybe, once this check hits, you can just disappear for the foreseeable future. If you’re astronomically lucky, everyone will forget it happened so you won’t have to relive the very tail end of it. You run a hand through your hair. You’re so fucking dramatic.

It hurts a little extra when even Hongjoong doesn't stick around to check in on you, tending to his star first and foremost. You can’t say you really blame him, though – that is his job. San should be his priority. 

It’s just that you desperately wish for a friendly face, or someone to genuinely check in with you. Comfort you. 

Not to be surrounded by strangers who won’t look you in the eye.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You’re not sure what the plan is. 

You don’t even know if he’s still here. But here you are, standing in front of his dressing room door like a fucking idiot. Another girl obsessed with him. Nothing new, just another number they’ll have to delete. 

Even so, you want to try and talk to him. Ask him why the fuck he left in such a hurry. Your hands readjust their grip on your purse, with half a mind to swing it at whoever opens the door. 

Gathering up all the courage imaginable, your hand raises in a fist, and you softly knock on the door three times. 

To be honest, you’re not really expecting a response. Half of the staff are gone already, it’s unlikely that he’d want to stick around here any longer than he has to. When you checked the time on your phone in your dressing room, you were surprised to see that it’s already nearing nine o’clock. Your stomach had growled almost immediately upon seeing it. You look over your shoulder, watching the rest of the staff still here turning off some of the lights and gathering wires.    

Distracted, you jump about a mile in the air when the door opens, revealing San, now also dressed and looking like he’s ready to leave. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” he says, so casually. “What’re you still doing here?” 

Embarrassment hits you like a brick wall. Yep, just another girl on the callsheet that stuck around to beg him for more. Ugh. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you,” you say, already giving up on the whole idea of confronting him. Britney can’t help you now. 

You start to turn on your heel, but he opens the door wider, stepping aside as if to invite you in. “No, no. Not bothering me. What’s up?” 

Your mouth dries. Okay, now you got to follow through. But god… does he really not know? You wonder if this has never come up before. If all of the girls before you are just collectively tougher than you emotionally and can handle no aftercare, no follow up, nothing. You should be, too, honestly. You know what porn is and what it isn’t. It’s not exactly a dating service. Two hot people fuck each other and go their separate ways, money wired to them before their heads hit the pillow at night. 

Still… you and Yeosang aren’t dating, and after your collab with him, he redressed you and cuddled you for an hour straight. He made sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, that the friendship is still intact. You weren’t being used. 

You hesitate to step into his dressing room, and ultimately decide to just stay put. Stand your ground. You don’t want to take too long, you just need an answer. 

Out with it. 

“I was just wondering why you left so quickly? Did I do something to offend you in any way?”  

San blinks, slight confusion clouding his face. “Oh, no, I just– I saw your form. Didn’t want to hang around and make you uncomfortable.” 

Now you stare at him, just as confused. “Wait, what? What about my form?” 

“You checked off ‘Hard No’ to aftercare.”  

…Pardon? 

No way. 

He must see the bewilderment in your face because he fishes his phone out of his pocket to show you. 

“Yeah, Hongjoong said…” he trails off, the light of his phone screen reflecting in his dark brown eyes. “Yeah, look.” 

He holds his phone up to show you, and you step closer to it, squinting to see for yourself. Sure enough, amidst all of the other dozens of checkmarks, you accidentally fucked yourself over and selected ‘Hard No’ for aftercare. Luckily, you didn’t select one of the bodily fluid options as a ‘Hard Yes’ in your evident past confusion. You bury your face in your hands. 

“Oh my god. That was meant to be a ‘Hard Yes’.” You groan. Guilt threatens to eat you alive for all your negative thoughts towards him, and the texts you sent Yeosang while in your dressing room after the fact. You’re going to have to do some serious damage control to get Yeosang to not hate him forever. It’ll surely start with a screenshot of the form you fucked up, followed by a dramatic statement of your stupidity. 

San pockets his phone again, almost sheepish. He hesitantly steps closer to you, unsure of how to fix this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, “I should’ve double checked with you.” 

“No, no, please don’t blame yourself when it’s my own mistake.” 

“Still…” he trails off, looking down at the floor. 

It hits you that he’s really hurt by this. Hurt for you. 

“San…” you tilt your head to try and meet his eye. “It’s alright, really. I feel much better now that I know it wasn’t on purpose or because I did something wrong.” 

“I’d never do that to you, or anybody. I always stress how important aftercare is to the directors I work with so they don’t try to rush through it.” San runs a hand through his freshly-washed hair as he speaks, exasperated. You vaguely remember him saying something akin to that in one of the interviews that you watched. 

Damn, he really is nice. Here you were at the start of this, thinking he’d be a cocky son of a bitch who has the world at his feet, and anything he wants within arms reach. The last two parts of that description may be right, but your assumed attitude is definitely not. Well… maybe not entirely. The cockiness isn’t used to make anyone feel small, that’s the important difference. It’s confidence, more than anything. 

“I know,” you smile, trying to make him feel better. “Really, it’s okay.” 

He seems unconvinced. “Can I make it up to you in some way?” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. If you wouldn’t immediately cringe at yourself for doing so, you’d maybe ask for a hug or something. Physical contact in any way to comfort you, make you believe it. But the guilt he obviously feels is enough. The knowledge that he truly thought it’s something you were so against, and he respected it anyway, is more than enough. 

“You don’t have to, San.” 

“I want to, Y/N.” 

Your pulse skips a beat, wondering what he has in mind. The way he said it was so final, like he made up his mind already. His phone reappears in his hand, texting someone quickly and sending it off. He then reaches into his dressing room, turning off the light after doing a quick scan of it and closing the door behind him. 

“Can I walk you out?” 

That, you’ll allow. 

“Sure. Are you going home?” You ask, changing the subject as the two of you start walking towards the exit doors. 

“Nah, not yet. There’s a gym on this floor I’m gonna go to first.” 

You just nod in response, wondering how on earth he has the energy to go to the gym right now. You have a very special date with your bed for the foreseeable future. It’s highly doubtful that you’ll wake up before three in the afternoon. Truthfully, you can’t wait. Maybe you’ll sleep off some of the soreness you’re sure to have tomorrow. 

“Oh, by the way, do you have an agent?” San asks you out of nowhere, right before you get to the doors. 

You blink once. Twice, processing. “No…?” 

Yeosang’s the only one who may even come close. He’s the one you ask before doing anything, wanting his opinion and blessing. But technically and professionally, no, you’re an independent artist as far as you’re concerned. 

“I’d find one soon,” San says, glancing towards the bed, soaked through. “You’re about to get a lot of offers.” 

You blush furiously, reminded of everything that transpired between you barely an hour ago. “Maybe I should just take yours.” 

San groans, “Honestly, do it. I’m sure Joong could use a break from my bullshit.” 

You laugh, trying to hide it with your hand. San pretends to be offended that you agree, clutching his heart in betrayal, which makes you laugh harder. The doors push open, the white fluorescent lights blinding both of you after being so used to the golden studio lights on set. 

“Maybe I will let you have him,” he says, a smirk growing across his face. “It’s good manners.” 

He looks at you like he knows something you don’t, and it bothers you. The word choice sounds familiar, but you can’t place it. Before you can ask, he steps closer to you, invading your personal space for the first time since being intimate with each other. You hold your breath. 

“Goodnight, baby.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before walking down towards the opposite end of the hallway, where you can only assume is the direction of the gym. 

Fuckin’ hell… 

You stand there like an idiot for another couple of seconds, still processing what just happened in the span of five minutes. You also try to figure out the implication behind his word choice. ‘Manners’. It bugs you so much, you know you heard something about it recently, but can’t pinpoint where or when. 

The question of what he meant follows you all the way to the lobby. You press the down button on autopilot, just now remembering to text the driver to tell him that you’re ready to be picked up downstairs and taken home. From down the hallway, you hear the door to the studio swing open again – probably some of the crew heading home as well. You glance towards the stairs, not exactly jumping at the chance to be stuck in an elevator with a bunch of strangers who watched you have sex an hour ago. 

But the footsteps that follow the sound of the door closing are what gives you pause. They’re hurried, and headed towards the lobby. The elevator dings behind you. You turn around just as the mystery runner comes around the corner. 

“Oh! Hi, Mr. Kim–”  

Hongjoong jogs over to you, catching you before the elevator doors open. 

“Sorry if I startled you. San is wondering if we can arrange another collab, but this time on your livestream.” He speaks quickly, like time is of the essence.  

You stutter, brain trying to connect with your vocal cords. 

“What?” You ask, even though you heard and processed everything Hongjoong said just fine. You’re just wondering if you actually heard him right. Today just keeps getting stranger and stranger. More interesting, definitely. 

He’s quick to repeat himself, almost pleading with his eyes for you to say ‘yes’. 

At least with the emails you had some time to think everything over. Now Hongjoong is staring dead at you, waiting for the response he hopes to hear. 

You can’t help it. You want to make him chase you again. 

“Tell him I’ll think about it,” you say as sweetly as possible, stepping into the elevator. 

You try not to enjoy the perplexed look on Hongjoong’s face until the doors close completely. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You have no idea how he does it, truly. 

Everything in his world is immediate. You’re not used to it whatsoever. 

Those are the thoughts you have as you step out of the elevator in your apartment building, walking up to your door. You're more than ready to throw your shit down in the kitchen and go the fuck to bed. Your phone is in the process of being fished out of your pocket, intent on texting Yeosang to ask if he's around for a debrief.

You stop dead in your tracks when you look up, about to unlock the front door. Perched tall and proud, is a beautiful bouquet of purple flowers in a glass vase right outside your door. A card is placed in between the overlapping petals, and you can’t help but gawk at the sight of it. 

How the hell did he find your address? 

Oh– Hongjoong, probably. Your initial creeped-out feeling vanishes. Hongjoong can just find anything for San, you’re sure. 

Punching in the keycode to your door, and switching the kitchen lights on, you place the flowers on the counter, taking a second to admire them. Purple, you note. Your favorite. Again, Hongjoong must have told him, but you can’t help but smile – he really did want to make it up to you. 

You pluck the small card from the flowers and read it, sitting down at your kitchen island. 

Hope you had a good time today. 

Sorry for being such a stupid slut </3

-San

Your smile widens, laughing and rereading it. You flip it over, and on the back is a phone number, scrawled in blue ink. 

Perhaps you missed a hidden clause in the forms that makes you promise to not fall in love with him. 

You hope not. 

when kai asked for a movie night with you, you expected the cuddling. you expected the way he’d pull you into his lap and keep his arms wrapped around you. you even expected the occasional peck of his soft lips against your skin, but you weren’t prepared for his kisses to land on your neck instead of your cheek. it surprises you, but it’s innocent enough to ignore for a while. he doesn’t linger very long, just planting a few small kisses along your pulse point.

you’re able to calm down after a minute, adjusting to your best friend’s newfound interest in your neck. he keeps his head rested against your shoulder, the warm skin of his cheek heating you up. he’s calm and quiet every time he speaks up, making one-off comments about the movie that you only respond to sometimes. with him leaning on you like this, you can feel the vibrations from his voice rumbling against you.

you start dozing off at some point, too relaxed to bother keeping your eyes open, letting your body go lax against kai’s. the slow rhythm of his hands drawing up and down your body helps you drift off; his innocent, soft touches have always comforted you.

“you tired?” he asks, voice low. he entertains himself with the soft skin of your thigh, gently grazing his fingers against it. it sends a shiver down your spine.

“yeah,” you answer, and even you can hear the slow, sleepy lilt in your response. you feel kai’s lips pull into a small smile before he’s pecking your shoulder carefully.

“do you want me to take you to bed?”

you hum, considering his offer, but you don’t feel like moving around. the second you hit your mattress, you’ll probably lose all your drowsiness. “no, i’m comfortable,” you say.

kai giggles, “okay.” he places his hands on your waist and maneuvers you until you’re facing him instead of the television. it’s easy to move you around when you’re so relaxed, just letting him do whatever he wants. you blink at him slowly, taking in his soft features under the dim lights. he looks angelic. you think you tell him that, but you’re only half-awake and can’t really think well.

he brings his face back into your neck, nosing up the column of your throat languidly. a hand on your thigh gently urges you closer, pressing you further into him until you’re chest-to-chest. he keeps his head buried against you, and his affection nearly drowns you. in your sleepy daze, you accept his actions happily, feeling nothing but cherished by your best friend.

the moment builds up so slowly that it barely hits you when he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your skin, right under your jaw. the heat of his mouth feels like heaven against you, and you can’t bring yourself to push him away, too comfortable and content to deny his touches. he drags his lips a little further down, sucking lightly against your neck, taking just a small taste of you.

there’s a heat building inside you now, a growing need that you only register when it’s too late. you’re too far into the moment, too entranced by the feeling to pull away. you let him do as he pleases with your pliant body, indulging in the slow, firm drag of his hands over your sides and the glide of his warm tongue against your flesh.

he kisses all over your skin like he needs to keep you warm, humming pleasantly as he brings his mouth to your shoulder. his fingers dip ever so slightly under your shirt, resting on your bare skin, a faint tickle against your waist. his teeth just barely scrape against your skin, and a tiny mewl slips out of you before you can think about controlling yourself.

he pulls his lips off you after that, face flushing red like he’s the one who made the embarrassing noise. cool air hits the saliva trail kai left on your neck, and suddenly you’re missing the heat of his mouth. your stomach’s still twisted up in knots, all worked up from kai’s relentless attention.

“i’m sorry,” he finally says, hands slipping out from under your shirt. his touch lands on your upper thighs instead, just below your hips. you try hard to push down the arousal that pools in your gut, fearing the possibility of making a fool of yourself even more than you already have.

“it’s okay,” you reply meekly. you can’t tell if the silence that fills the room is tense because it’s awkward or because everything feels so intimate. you have to put in a conscious effort to not let your hips buck against his, still perched on his lap. it’s only now that you realize how hard kai’s gotten beneath you, a prominent tent in his pants. you ignore it for both his sake and your own.

“w-we should stop,” he stutters out, loosening the hold he has on you like he’s ready to let you go. you tighten your legs around his, not wanting him to pry you off. this is stupid, and you know you should just go to bed, but you fear what will happen when you finally let the moment fall.

“yeah…” you agree quietly, even though your actions don’t match your words. you stay right where you are, and your eyes betray you when they dart down to his lips. they’re pink and coated with his saliva, and it doesn’t help you simmer down at all. you only feel more restless. his hands find your hips, holding you still against him. it seems like neither of you are willing to pull away.

his gaze flits behind you for a moment. “the movie’s over,” he says.

you hum and nod. it’s quiet for a few seconds as you think of what to say to fill the silence. “it was pretty good,” you say, making boring, meaningless conversation. you’re not thinking about the movie at all.

“yeah, it was,” he agrees. it’s almost like you can see the restraint he’s summoning upon himself to not pounce on you.

nothing seems to dissipate the tension in the air. you’re stuck staring at each other, and it’s like you’re both waiting for the other to make a move. his hands drift a little lower, sprawling out on your thighs. his large palms engulf your flesh so easily. you gulp.

your hands ease themselves onto kai’s chest, ignoring how firm and strong he feels under you. you only put your hands there to ground yourself. you’re only doing this to keep yourself sane. that’s what you’re telling yourself, at least.

“you got anything to do tomorrow?” you ask, voice shaky as you try to keep your tone casual. his fingertips inch up your thighs to breach into your shorts, slight enough to not need to mention it.

“no,” he answers a little breathlessly. your hands trail up until they’re resting around his neck. it would be easy to pull him in for a kiss like this, but you don’t think about that.

“me either,” you say, whispering now. you feel your heart pounding in your chest. there’s a pulse in your core, too, but you promised yourself you’d ignore that. you barely feel able to breathe.

kai’s eyes fall to your lips. you take the opportunity to let your gaze fall to his own, admiring the rosy swell once again. his hands tighten against you in a way that’s barely noticeable, but since you’re so attuned to every little thing happening, you catch it easily.

you find each other’s eyes again at the same time, and mercy finds you both then—you pull into each other hungrily, lips colliding like you can’t bear another second apart. he moans into your mouth, working against you like he needs to swallow you whole. you’re just as desperate as him, hands scrunching up into the fabric of his shirt as you push your tongue into his mouth.

he doesn’t part for a second, not daring to let up on his kiss, and you let him consume you completely. your mind is spinning, and all you can think about is how incredible his mouth is. he kisses like that’s what he was put on earth to do, diving into your mouth like he needs to taste you to survive.

you whine when his palm meets your clothed center, rubbing against your cunt like he knows how hard you’ve been holding back. you grind against his hand unabashedly, possessed by the need to sink into the pleasure he gives you. your hand travels down his torso until you’re palming the bulge in his pants. you work your hand over him in the same rhythm he rubs his fingers against you, calculated and needy.

you’re panting into his mouth now, leaving it wide open for him to swirl his tongue into. your legs clamp around his hand, feeling yourself nearing your peak, and you can’t stop whimpering and moaning. you feel pathetic, you feel like some bitch in heat, but kai seems to absolutely love it.

he pulls away from your mouth to praise you, “pretty. pretty girl. fuck, i really want you.”

you’re entranced by how swollen his lips have become, looking all the more sinful, making your cunt gush pathetically. your stomach tenses up, orgasm approaching quickly, and kai bucks his hips up into your hand. he seems to be getting close too.

“kai, need to cum, please, need it,” you moan, and he doesn’t let up on his rhythm against your core. you almost feel like crying. you can taste your high as it approaches, chasing it by grinding your hips against him faster.

“yeah, let go, cum for me,” he says, sounding just as broken and pathetic as you. your climax hits you like sweet relief, leaving you crying out as kai helps you make a mess of your panties. you feels kai’s dick twitch beneath your palm as you ride out your high, and you jerk your hand over him greedily until he’s spent and spilling his load into his pants. he throws his head back with a deep moan, thrusting up against you until he’s coming back down.

you’re exhausted, sinking against him and leaning into his chest. you don’t even have the energy to talk about the line you just crossed with him. he doesn’t speak up either, only running his hand down your back as he catches his breath.

a few minutes pass, and you think he might be asleep. the rise and fall of his chest is steady, and it almost lulls you into slumber as well. you’d be perfectly content laying in his arms and resting here, but you feel too gross and sweaty to stay. you let a few peaceful minutes pass before slowly prying yourself from kai’s hold—not without his sleepy refusals to let you go—and head off to go shower.

you don’t know if you should go back to the couch with him, or if you should lay in bed and give yourselves some space. you stay in the shower longer than you need to, not wanting to make any decisions that’s going to alter the course of your friendship with kai. you groan; you should’ve thought of that before hooking up with him. you lean your head against the shower wall, shutting your eyes tight. rationality only comes to you at the worst times.

you fall back onto the bed, fingers tangling in jake’s hair as he makes a humming sound against you, the vibrations sends sparks up your spine.

jake is good at this, always has been, but tonight he’s showing off. his tongue traces slow circles around you before flicking at your opening and dragging up, seeking out the place where you need him most.

“oh”, you whine. “oh fuck.”

“the clitoris”, he says against you, pulling his head back enough to meet your gaze, eyes becoming glossy as if he wants something more. “did you know it has over eight thousand nerve endings? the most of any part of the human body.”

“jake.” you threaten, fingers finding his temple as he continues to suck gently on your clit, his other hand splayed over the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“its educational,” he teases.

you laugh, a high pitched giggle that turns into a moan when jake sucks your clit into his mouth. your hips buck upwards as he braces himself over you.

“you’re such a nerd,” you manage to say through your moans.

“you are dating a nerd,” he says against your skin. “you knew what you were getting into.”

jake eases two fingers into you as you groan, your head falling back. he uses the stretch of his fingers to find the place deep inside you that makes your whole body twitch. his fingers are long and beautifully angled, curling in just the right way to send another pulse of sensation through you.

“see?” he murmurs, his mouth pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “angles and vectors, all geometry.”

“shut up,” you gasp, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you try to catch your breath. “ah— jake!”

“the g-spot is actually part of the clitoral structure,” he says, his fingers sliding in and out as his mouth finds your core again. “it all connects.”

“jake, i swear—”

“did you know that the clitoris is shaped like a wishbone?” he asks, tracing slow patterns along you with his tongue, working you over from bottom to top. you forget what you were about to say when he begins rolling his tongue over your clit in fast, shallow strokes.

you are so close, already writhing, and jake knows it, he always knows it. he knows your body the way he knows his textbooks, every little sound and reaction to a chapter he memorizes with devotion.

“you’re gonna come for me, baby?”

jake asks, his voice thick with something between amusement and need as his tongue skates over your thigh. “on my face? are you really going to do it? let’s test it, shall we?”

“your— fuck, glasses—!”

“forget the glasses.”

they are completely fogged over now, all opaque. its absurd, really, the way his tongue flicks over you in short bursts while his fingers curl inside you, making you dizzy with need. you can barely focus on what he says next.

“take them off,” you whine, practically begging. “jake— ”

“cant, im too busy recalling the theory of..” he says, practically purring. you find yourself laughing and whimpering at the same time.

“that doesnt even— thats not how it—”

“maybe physics isnt my strongest subject.” jake sighs dramatically before his tongue licks insistently at your folds, his fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. he manages to ignore the fog on his glasses long enough for you to climax, shuddering and whimpering his name as your thighs shake on either side of his head. jake hums against your skin.

“come on, baby,” he groans, voice rough. “let me taste it. let me have it.”

“ah— jake!”

“i’ve got you. i’ve got you.”

your orgasm rolls over you, until you are gasping your release into the air, your back arching violently. your fingers dig into jakes scalp, his hair splayed out on either side of your hips. jake licks at you determinedly until your whimpers die down, your body limp, exhausted.

you push his head away weakly.

jake grins, finally lifting himself off of you, his chin glistening. he peeks up at you, the lenses blurred with condensation.

“see?” he says, sliding them up his nose. “perfectly functional.”

“you can’t see a thing.” you scoff.

“i can see enough, princess.”

jake leans over you, his head hovering just above your torso as he peppering kisses all over your body. you taste yourself on his lips when his glasses press against your cheek, warm and fuzzy.

you lift his head by the back of his skull, kissing him thoroughly before sliding his glasses off his face.

“hey,” he whines, blinking up at you. his lashes cast shadows across his cheeks. jake’s face is softer without the frames.

“i was going for a look.” he mumbles softly.

you raise your eyebrows, “the look was clouded nerd who cant see.”

“hey, that’s a classic aesthetic!”

you laugh, pulling him down on top of you. jake melts against you, kissing your collarbone, his fingers finding the sensitive spot at the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“i could go again,” he murmurs, voice heavy with intent. “we could run another trial. for science.”

“for science,” you repeat, laughing when jake’s fingers push into you once more, coaxing another moan from your lips as his glasses sit on the nightstand, forgotten.