The memory of the tryout was a blur. The burn in your arms from holding a position too long, the nervous shake in your voice as you shout out the cheer – you swore you’d be cut immediately.

So imagine the shock you felt when in your student inbox sat an acceptance email.

Dear Kim ___,

Congratulations!

We at Cheonghwa University’s cheer team, The Hwa-roes, are excited to inform you of your acceptance into the team.

Please reply to this email within 3 working days to let us know if you will be joining us on the quads to hype up the players and crowd!

Warm regards,

The Hwa-roes.

(Word play on Heroes)

You read the email at least three times – waiting for the words to morph into a rejection email, for someone to tell you it was sent by mistake.

Yet, here you were – pom-poms in hand and sneakers laced tight, standing with the other newcomers in the basketball stadium in a uniform that was low-key a little too short for your liking. As the seniors began the introduction, announcing a little freshies night would be done that weekend, you realised that… maybe this wasn’t a joke anymore.

You were in.

The late afternoon sun stretches across the quad, the grass looking more vibrant; even a little golden. The sound of a whistle being blown pierced through the field, followed by the heavy thud and grunts of The Hwa-rriors, Cheonghwa’s rugby team, as their bodies collide with one another during their on-going practice.

Enter Choi Seungcheol, Captain of The Hwa-rriors.

Seungcheol is the type of man where one look at him out on the field, you’d know he was meant to play. Knew that he was meant to be captain with how he barked orders whenever someone slacked.

He practically lived for the game. The sweat, the grind, the competition – nothing could ever divide his attention from the field.

Or at least, nothing used to.

His gaze had managed to stray from his team to the corner of the field where The Hwa-roes were practicing their cheer routine. Half the team were forming a base while some of the male cheerleaders were balancing the girls mid-air, laughter filling the air in a way that was infectious – causing a small smile to tug at his own lips.

Then, his eyes land on a particular cheerleader.

Unlike the stereotypical looks most female cheerleaders would have – long hair that’s pulled into a ponytail, probably one of the two main colours of the university as a bow stuck at the top; this cheerleader had a bob that almost went past her shoulders.

Seungcheol felt… something in his stomach, but it wasn’t from the mediocre cafeteria food for sure.

It was weird.

The Hwa-roes and Hwa-rriors had always co-existed during practices, yet since two weeks ago, he finds himself watching the bobbed-hair cheerleader.

“Captain, ball!”

He came back to his senses a little too late – the rugby ball smacked against his head, bouncing off onto the grass.

Groans echoed from his team.

“Seungcheol, I swear to God,” Jeonghan huffs, flicking sweat out of his hair. “If you’re going to keep staring at the cheer squad, at least don’t ogle to the point you’re physically here, but mentally there.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Seungcheol defended, muttering a curse as he picked up the ball.

Joshua snorts, leaning an elbow against Jeonghan. “Sure. Your eyes probably have a mind of their own and decided to wander off.”

His jaw tightened at the jest, but he knew they were right.

He barks at the team to get back to practice, trying to regain his focus in the process. Yet, when he hears the cheer captain announcing they take five, his head snapped back towards them just for a minute too long before he starts the countdown.

On your side of the field, you’ve learned to treat the rugby team’s shouts and grunts as background noise for your practice. In a way, it helped the cheer team in finding the tempo.

However, several cheerleaders, including the seniors would point out that their captain was staring – specifically at you. From what you’ve heard, Choi Seungcheol was practically Cheonghwa’s pride and glory.

He was tall, broad – even his presence was commanding, the kind that made people pause mid-step whenever he walked by. When your head of cheer announced a five minute break, you glanced over to the rugby team and watched as he barreled into a tackle. The sound of impact was enough to make even the cheer team wince.

Still, he didn't flinch.

You shake your head, reminding yourself of the reputations rugby players had – loud, cocky, out of your league. You may be a cheerleader, but you were a new cheerleader. You were one voice in a choir at the sidelines.

You weren’t someone special.

“Mingyu.”

“ ‘Sup, hyung?”

Seungcheol hesitated, mainly because Mingyu gave him a knowing grin. God, he was never going to hear the end of this. He inclines his head subtly towards the cheer team, “The girl at the top of the pyramid. Layered bob. You know who she is?”

The giant followed his line of sight, his grin widening almost instantly. “Ohh, I see.”

“See what?”

“Our captain’s taken a fancy to one of the cheerleaders,” Mingyu teased. “I thought Joshua was just imagining things, but apparently not. Guess I owe him ten bucks.”

“You lot are impossible,” the elder groans, running a hand down his sweaty face. “Just answer the question, Gyu. Unless you’d want to run five laps.”

Mingyu laughs, clearly having a blast poking at his captain. “She’s one of the newcomers they recruited. Kim _.” He observes Seungcheol’s face for any sort of reaction, his canines showing off when he sees the tips of his ears turn red. “I think she’s in her first year, final sem. Heard from one of the cheer guys that Haesoo told them she wanted her in after she left the audition. Kinda obvious why.”

Seungcheol nods, repeating the name in his head.

Kim ___.

Pretty name for a pretty girl.

“So,” Mingyu leaned in with a wicked grin, “Planning to shoot your shot?”

Seungcheol scoffed, “Get back to practice, Gyu.”

The campus library was almost empty that evening. The scratch of the metal nib against your tablet screen paired with the soft hum of the air conditioning was almost perfect until someone slots themselves into the empty seat across from you.

“Hey there, Miss Cheerleader.”

The voice was unfamiliar to you yet the owner greets you with such familiarity it felt… odd.

Looking up, you’re greeted by none other than Choi Seungcheol himself. Captain of The Hwa-rriors, heartthrob of the campus. He hangs his backpack over the chair he’s seated in with a big puppy grin on display.

He looked far too alive for the library. Out of place. Sweat clung to his temple, dark hair pushed back and messy like he’d run his hand through it dozens of times before this.

You blinked at him, “Shouldn’t you be out on the field, Captain?”

Seungcheol shrugs, “Practice ended. What about you? Was expecting you out on the field cheering and doing flips.”

“Thursdays, Fridays and weekends are our off-days.”

“Off-days, huh?” He leans closer, propping his arms on the table. “Didn’t think you guys would have that kind of schedule.”

You raised a brow, deciding to tease him a little. “We don’t run on triple A batteries, Captain. We like to preserve our energy unlike you jocks that can’t go a day without needing to run into a wall of muscles.”

Something about your tone made his heart flutter. He hadn’t expected you to tease back and the fact that you did intrigues him. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your little focus bubble,” he continues. “Just… didn’t expect to see you elsewhere other than… y’know, flying through the air.”

“Are you assuming cheerleaders are bimbos, Captain Choi?”

HIs eyes widened, scrambling to defend himself and forgets his surroundings momentarily. “No!”

The librarian shoots him a look and Seungcheol smiles sheepishly before bowing his head apologetically. Turning back to you, he lowers his voice. “No, I would never have that ideology. It’s just… I expected you to be more of a social butterfly like the others.”

“Well, cheerleaders can be academically driven too,” you said dryly.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Noted. Guess I only ever see you on the sidelines cheering us on.”

“Well, that’s the whole point of the cheer team, Captain.”

“Yeah.”

You set your stylus down, deciding to give him your time. “So, what brings you here, Seungcheol?”

God, his name sounds so right when it comes from your lips.

“Trying to look academic to swoon some girls?”

“Maybe,” he teases. You watch as he then turns to the shelf behind him and grabs a random book, “Or maybe I came to get some study materials for my subject.” Glancing at the book he had just plucked off the shelf, he regrets it instantly.

‘The Trade Policy of the European Union’ by Gstöhl and De Bièvre.

You let out a small laugh and it made the tip of Seungcheol’s ears go beet red. “I understand you’re a Business Major, Captain. But try something less… heavy… next time. That one will put you to sleep before the first chapter.”

That pearly white grin returns, “Got it, Sunshine.”

You blinked, “What?”

He froze, realising what he’s just said. “Oh– Sorry. It’s just…” He awkwardly gestures towards the window. “The… The light is… It makes you look bright.”

Get a grip, Choi Seungcheol. You’re Captain of the football team. Why are you fumbling over your words?

God, you look like such a–

You can’t help the quiet laugh that slipped past your lips, caught between being thrown off guard and amusement. “Didn’t realise you were terrible at giving compliments, Captain.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… Guess a pretty girl like you has me fumbling over my rehearsed lines.”

“Uhm… Thanks..?” You turn your focus back to your study material.

“Anytime, Sunshine.”

There’s a faint pink in your cheeks when you look up again. “You gonna start calling me that now, Seungcheol?”

He shrugs, grinning again. “Only if it annoys the hell outta you.”

“Careful now,” you warned, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “It just might.”

“Then I’m not stopping.”

“Hey, Yejin?” One of the seniors called out to the Head of Cheer.

“ ‘Sup?”

“Sky’s looking a little gloomy… Should we call in a rain check?”

The Head of Cheer waves her hand dismissively with a smile, “Oh, y’know the sky is always gloomy. We’re nearing the middle of fall season so the sun is just a little shy.”

“But what if it rains? We can’t risk the team falling sick or getting injuries. The big game is coming up and we can’t really form a new routine if we do have casualties.”

Yejin seems to consider the words before announcing to the cheer squad that they’ll do one final routine and call in a rain check. The others, you included, agreed but not before casting a glance up to the sky where the graying clouds start to gather. You hear Seungcheol’s voice behind you, barking out orders and telling his team to keep an eye out for the weather.

It was clear the gloomy weather had both teams on high alert.

But it was soon pushed to the side when the rugby team was halfway through scrimmage drills, and the cheer squad ran through several formations that needed more focus in perfecting. This routine had somehow become a source of to you – how everything falls into a steady rhythm.

5 minutes later, any trace of sunlight was gone.

Then came the first drops, turning the once green field into a polka dotted pattern. Both teams glanced at each other, as though they were telepathically asking – “Are you retreating? Because if you do, I do.”

They didn’t have much time to ponder as within the seconds, the slight drizzle turned heavy. Y’know, the kind of downpour that soaks you in less than a minute.

Chaos broke out when a gust of strong wind swept across the fields. Laughter, squeals and shouts rang through the field as everyone sprinted towards the auditorium to take cover. In contrast to the humid rain outside, the auditorium had its air conditioning running and the coldness sent shivers down your spine and damp uniform.

You wring out your skirt and tried your best to laugh with the others, but the cold was starting to get to you. Your hands were freezing, the fabric of your top was sticking to your skin and no matter how much you rubbed at your arms, the goosebumps wouldn’t go away.

You hear Seungcheol talking to the Head of Cheer, “Did everyone from the cheer team make it in?”

“Yea, I counted three times. Yours?”

“All counted for. Make sure neither of you cheerleaders get sick, yea? We’d be lost without y’all cheering us on.”

Yejin snorts, “Yea?” She nods towards his team that were raking their hands through their damp hair, teasing them about resembling golden retrievers trying to dry themselves off. “Better make sure neither of them get the flu either. Not only will Coach kill you, we won’t have a team to cheer for.”

Mingyu chuckled behind Seungcheol, “Well, I’m sure Cheol hyung can cover for all of us.”

“Careful, Gyu. I might just drag you with me.”

The trio laughed, knowing the threat wasn’t serious nor that deep.

His gaze soon landed on your shivering figure.

You stood a little further from the others, staying quiet while your teammates whined about their ruined hair and soggy sneakers. One of the newcomers complained about how the soaked fabric of the uniform was starting to stick uncomfortably against their skin. You smiled when one of them teased you for shivering like you were just dumped into the middle of a snow pile, but the smile was tired.

Mingyu noticed Seungcheol was staring somewhere and following his line of sight, he smirked. “Staring at the pretty cheerleader again, Captain?”

Yejin’s eyes followed and she too joined in on the teasing. “Fancy our little ___, Cheol?”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes, “Both of you.”

The Head of Cheer grins, leaning in, “Well, you didn’t hear this from me, but so far she’s still single. But, unfortunately jocks don’t seem to be her type.”

“Why not?”

Yejin shrugs, wringing the edges of her skirt. “Well, nobody really knows, but my two cents is that it has something to do with jocks being players with better stamina. You know how the rumours are with you guys – always flirting, never really committing. Probably forgetting a girl’s name once the next game rolls around.”

Mingyu frowns, placing a hand over his chest. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“Um, dramatic much?” Yejin snorts. “She probably doesn’t want to end up as another cautionary tale in the locker room or y’know… The entire campus of why you should steer away from jocks.”

“Hey, we can’t be that bad.”

She raises a brow, “For some of y’all? Maybe. But the reputation the media paints? Kind of hard to shake it off when a few of them fit the bill. Loud, cocky, always surrounded by cheerleaders or girls.”

She turns to one of the senior cheerleaders, “Kinda allergic to communication.”

Seungcheol moved to his duffel before his brain could catch up, grabbing his varsity jacket – the black one with his name stitched in gold thread. “You say that like we’re a species, Yejin.”

She all but grins, watching with Mingyu as he crosses the room, “Well, if the boot fits, Cheol.”

You sat on a bleacher that was close to the heater, rubbing your arms to try and chase the chill away. While you adored the sleeveless design of the cheer uniform, sometimes you wished the sleeves were a little longer to make it less chilly. Not that it’d help in your current situation.

The rest of your squad huddled nearby, helping each other to brush out their damp hair or to undo the ponytail it’s been put in.

A shadow looms over you and looking up, you see him.

“Sunshine.”

“Captain.”

He held out his varsity jacket, voice low and steady, “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his gesture. “What?”

Seungcheol chuckles, “I’m offering you my jacket, sunshine. You’re freezing.”

“I’m okay, Seungcheol. I’ll live.”

He raised a brow, “_, even I can see that you’re clearly shaking from the cold.”

He’s not wrong. The heater wasn’t doing much to warm you up and you could practically feel the cold seep into your bones. Before you could reject him a second time, he had already draped his jacket over your shoulders. The warmth hit in an instant – the jacket soft, heavy and carried a faint scent that was him. Behind him, you hear several ‘ooohs’ and ‘awws’ from the others.

“Feel better?” He asks quietly, knuckles making contact with the side of your neck as he brushes your hair to the side.

You swallowed, “A lil..”

He smiles, taking a seat next to you but with enough distance so he doesn’t crowd into your personal space. “Won’t you need it?” You asked. The Captain simply shakes his head, “Nope. I’ll live without it.”

You snort, “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s because I need you on the sidelines,” he teased. “If you catch a cold, whose chants am I supposed to listen to? I might start missing passes and pissing the whole team off.”

You rolled your eyes, though a soft smile tugged at your lips. “So now your entire performance depends solely on me?”

“Kinda, yea.”

You huff, tugging at the jacket to wrap it tighter around you. It was definitely one or two sizes larger, engulfing your body in warmth – though some of it wasn’t actually from the piece of clothing. Seungcheol tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, catching you off guard and he’d half expect you to pull away – but you didn’t.

He gives you a small smile, lips parting to say something until one of his teammates yelled from across the room. “Yo, Seungcheol! If you’re done flirting, Coach said to hit the showers so we don’t get sick!”

A chorus of laughter erupted in the auditorium – some of the boys whistled while the cheerleaders had teasing smiles on their lips. The noise mixed with the distant patter of the rain outside, making the whole situation feel a little lighter.

You caught the way a faint flush crept up Seungcheol’s neck before he sighs, turning to give you a sheepish smile. “Well, guess that’s my cue to leave.”

You nodded. “Don’t catch a cold, Captain. Otherwise you won’t hear my cheers.”

He grins at your tease, lingering by your side just a second longer before walking across the room to his teammates.

Your thumbs brush against the fabric of the jacket, trying your best to ignore the stupid flutter in your chest.

📣 Hwa-roes Squad 🤸🏼‍♀️

HoC Yejin: hey there Hwa-roes, Head of Cheer here with some news !! HoC Yejin: our Cheer Coach & the Hwa-rriors’ Coach organised a little squad bonding this weekend for us to well, bond with each other. deets are as follows: Date: XX October - XX October 20XX, Saturday - Sunday Time: 8AM Sat - 3PM Sun Venue: Busan Coastal Beach Planned activities include Balance Exercises Grill Night !! Bonding Bonfire Tug of War And more… 🫦 HoC Yejin: attendance is compulsory unless there’s a valid reason for absence. see yall this weekend !!

The morning air at Cheonghwa’s main parking lot was a little chilly, but definitely noisier than most weekends. The clattering of luggage wheels against the gravel pavement, thumping of duffel bags being loaded onto the bus’ luggage compartments. Some were already on the bus to try and catch a quick nap, others were discussing what food they bought for the Grill Night.

The cheer squad, all wearing their navy warm up jackets, were gathered near the front of the bus as Yejin conducts her usual headcount that reminds the rugby team of a military headcount. Just a few feet behind them were the rugby team loading the rest of the luggages onto the bus.

You arrived a minute later, tote bag hanging off a shoulder with a cup of iced coffee in one hand, a pretty pink luggage in the other. “Morning, Yejin,” you greet with a smile. She checks your name on the clipboard, “Morning, honey,” she greets back, peeking behind you and shoots you a teasing smile.

“Looks like fanboy there is already staring.”

Turning your head to follow her gaze, you make eye contact with Seungcheol. He gives you a small smile, and while you were unsure of how you felt – the corner of your lips lifted to return the smile.

“Cheer squad, anyone missing right now?” Yejin calls out.

“Minjoo went to grab snacks from the vending machine with Jeonghan!” Someone from the rugby team calls out. Coach Song, the rugby team’s coach, glances at his watch. “Better hope those snacks will last the two hour bus-ride.”

On the bus, you managed to find a seat near the middle and slid in, tucking your tote under your legs. Halfway through pulling out your earphones, a familiar voice came from the aisle.

“Hey sunshine, mind if I sit here?”

Seungcheol stands there, a paper bag in one hand while the other holds his water bottle. “Oh– Uh, no,” you said, realising you were staring.

“Thanks.” He slides in, shoulder brushing against your for just a brief second.

You took a sip of your coffee and watched as the campus rolled past when the bus departed. The early sunlight flickers through the windows and you finally take out your earphones, glancing at the paper bag in his lap. He notices and reaches in, pulling out a KitKat bar and offering it to you. “I got a bunch of snacks for the trip. Some healthy, some unhealthy.”

You took the chocolate, chuckling, “I’m not sure I should be having a KitKat for breakfast, Seungcheol.”

He grins, fishing out a sandwich box with the words ‘Egg Mayo’ written on its packaging. “Well, lucky for you, I also got some sandwiches.”

Two thoughts popped in your mind.

First – Wow, this man is well prepared.

Second – Why is that lowkey hot?

Successfully getting your earphones out and plugging them into your phone, the captain leans closer. “What’re you planning to listen to, Sunshine?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” you mutter, “Any suggestions, Captain?"

“Hmm, why don't you give Love Again by Dutch Melrose a try?”

You offered him the left piece of the earbud, “Wanna join?”

He blinked, surprised at your offer. But who was he to pass up on, what he deems, the opportunity of a lifetime. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Mingyu, sitting two rows behind, catches the little interaction and elbows Wonwoo who’s sat next to him. “Would you look at that,” he teases. “Captain’s whipped as hell.”

It was roughly 10AM when the squads arrived at the beachside – the air filled with the scent of seawater and coconut (add a bit of sunscreen into the mix). Several of the boys from the rugby team were helping the cheer girls move their stuff into the beach cabins, some snack stealing going on because Dokyeom claimed while they didn't need to do drills,they certainly were too early for dinner.

Everyone was brainstorming on activities to pass the time until the designated beach activities. That is until – “Guys, I found water guns!”

“Where the hell did you even get these?” Yejin asked. Wonwoo snorts, “Hey, I warned you not to let him wander off when he’s bored.”

The tall giant shoots his signature grin, “Found these and a few more in the duffel bags Coach packed. Let’s have a water gun battle to see who’s the better squad. Winning team gets bragging rights for the rest of the season!”

That’s all it took.

In just minutes, the rugby boys and cheer team split up into “teams”.

You crouched behind one of the benches, peeking over the seat as you pumped your water gun in a random direction, somehow successfully hitting Chan who yelped – “Noona, I didn’t even do anything to you!”

You can’t help but giggle, shouting out an apology while Seungcheol barked out orders like this entire game was a championship match instead of a simple water battle – typical.

You squeal when cold water splashes onto your arm. “Hey! Whoever that was, you better count your days!”

“Would be a dream!”

“Jiwoo, she’s off limits!”

You like this. The chaos that fills the air with laughter. It’s simple and pure, just like how the movies portrait or romanticise college life for cheerleaders and the rugby team.

Rounding a tree for cover, you collided with someone else who had the same idea. You squeak and a strong arm caught you by your waist before you could fall on your butt. Looking up, there stood Seungcheol in all his glory.

His shirt was drenched and clinging to his chest, droplets of water ran down his neck and Gods, if you didn’t have some form of self control, you’d probably jump him.

He looked just as surprised as you were – but it only lasted a second before that infuriating smug grin of his spread on his lips. “Didn’t think I’d find you here, sunshine.”

You huffed, trying to play it cool. Trying to act like your heart didn’t do that stupid flutter. “This is a water gun battle, Captain. You’re supposed to be fighting, not flirting.”

Seungcheol chuckles, “Who says I can’t do both?”

Before you can come up with a comeback, the captain lifted his water gun and fired at you at close range. The stream hit your shoulder, the water cold enough to make you gasp at the sensation.

“Choi Seungcheol!”

He laughs, dodging the spray of water you fired in return. You chased after him across the beach, trying both your best to not trip over your steps, shouting half-formed threats in between laughter. The rest of the squad had fallen into a similar form of chaos – Jihoon was wrestling Mingyu for some waterballoons, some of the cheer squad had formed a barricade with one of the picnic tables and Yejin was chasing after Joshua for a spare water gun.

You finally caught up to Seungcheol near one of the beach cabins, both of you panting, soaked, but still fiercely competitive.

“Okay, okay,” he said between breaths, “You’re a tough one, Sunshine.”

He extends a hand towards you, “Truce?”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicions high. “You’re a Leo who’s fiercely competitive. You don’t do truces.”

He smirks, “Maybe I make an exception for a certain cheerleader whose smile reminds me of the rays of sun.”

You hesitated, but decided to trust him. “Fine. Truce.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his water gun. “See? We can work together afterall.”

Just as you lowered your gun, you felt a stream of water his you right in the chest.

You blinked. “You–!”

He was already laughing, running away with his hands raised in the air as you chased after him. “You should know better than to trust the enemy who is also a competitive Leo, _!”

“You are so dead, Choi Seungcheol!”

Whoever said the sunsets look even more gorgeous at the beach was right. The sky was a blend of soft pink, purple, and orange. Whatever team bonding or rivalry was done for the day and everyone settled into a new routine with the rhythmic rolls of the ocean waves in the background.

Several of the rugby boys moved the grills a little further from the campsite, but not too close to the tides so they could enjoy both sides without compromising too much.

Yejin claps her hands together, “Alright! Cheer squad on sides. Rugby boys on grilling.”

“Try not to poison us with the grill,” Minjoo teases.

“Excuse me,” Mingyu scoffs. “We know how to cook. In fact, we’re excellent cooks!”

“Seungcheol had to search up how to cut an onion last time,” Yejin snorted.

“Hey!” Seungcheol called out from the grill, raising the tongs at the cheerleader. “That was one time!”

Moments go by and you’ve decided to hover nearby Seungcheol’s grilling station, watching his actions curiously. The sizzling sounded promising, but the smell… not really. “I don’t think they’re supposed to smell like that, Captain.”

Seungcheol frowned, “It’s fine, sunshine. They’re on a grill.”

He lifted a skewer and is rendered speechless when one side is visibly blackened. You tilted your head to the side, “Define… fine.”

Mingyu picks up another skewer, waving it in front of the captain's face. “I think it's fighting back, hyung.”

Seungcheol glares at him, “Go and see if the cheerleaders need help with the sides, Gyu.”

The giant raises his hands in surrender, walking away with a shit eating grin that makes the captain want to punch it off his face. You stepped closer, "You're flipping them too late, Seungcheol.”

“It's not that bad.”

You raised a brow, “Would you eat them when they look like that?”

He huffed a laugh and stepped aside to make room for you. “Alright, ___. Show me how to not turn dinner into… charcoal.”

You sprinkled some water onto the grill to lower the heat and spread out the skewers while the captain observed quietly, secretly impressed. “Didn't think you'd be the type to be good with grills, sunshine.”

“Went on several camping trips with my family and had my dad teach me some tricks.”

“So you're an outdoors girl, eh?”

“Only if food isn't about to be burnt and I'm not shoved deep into a forest.”

Seungcheol didn't think he'd be more attracted to you, but here he is – whipped because his little cheerleader crush enjoys the great outdoors.

Food was finally ready by the time the sky darkened and stars started blinking in one by one. Everyone gathered around the grill and bench table with paper plates and plastic cups. “Remember to throw your trash in the bags, team!” Minghao called out, “If I see anyone littering, you will get an ass whooping!”

Jihoon takes a seat next to you on one of the driftwood logs. “So… ___, right?”

You turn to him, “Depends on who's asking.”

“The Flanker.“

You shift and he chuckles, “Don't worry, I'm not here with ill intentions. Just curious about the girl that's got the captain so down bad.”

You snort, “Oh, please. You say that like it's something serious.”

He chuckles, taking a sip from his red plastic cup before replying. “Well, I did grow up with him so it's safe to say that I know when something's up. Cheol is… I guess you can say he's not the type to fall for people. If I remember correctly, he's had two ex-girlfriends but he didn't really like them as much as they did to him.”

“Why did he get together with them, then?”

Jihoon's lips twitch into a smirk. “Curious, arent'cha?”

You narrowed your eyes and he shrugged. “He likes them enough to be with them, but relationships aren't exactly a priority to him. During his first year, when we just enrolled, it was studies and the girl was more of a party animal which did kinda turn him off.”

You raised a brow. “I thought you jocks like going to parties. Alcohol, hook-ups, weed–”

“Okay, maybe some of them do. But, Seungcheol is more like… He's there to keep an eye on us, y'know? Gotta make sure his boys don't end up too deep in trouble.”

You hum in understanding. Maybe not all jocks are hormonal party animals, you thought.

“In second year, when he got accepted into the rugby team, his priorities became study and rugby. It was a little hard for him to balance those two while maintaining a relationship so, yeah.”

“And you think that this time it'll be different because I'm a cheerleader?”

Jihoon snorts. “Please, if you're thinking of that stereotypical jock and cheerleader trope, you can abandon it. I think it'll be different because you check out at most eighty percent of whatever his ideal type is.”

“And that is?”

“Passionte about what you love. Independent. You talk back or challenge him in a sense, and trust me when I say that shit turns him the fuck on.”

“Excuse me?”

He smirks, “You'll find out sooner or later. That is if you give him the chance. Kink aside, you also prioritise your studies.”

A beat of silence before he nudges your arm, “But, you didn’t hear it from me. Anyways, I gotta bounce because I can feel Cheol staring daggers at me. I'm not saying all these things to persuade you into accepting him as a boyfriend if he does decide to tell you. Think of it as me vouching for some kind of long-term investment that will benefit you both.”

“Nice business talk, Jihoon.”

“Hey, I'm a Finance major. Gotta know how to talk business.”

Both teams gathered around a bonfire after dinner. Joshua strummed the chords of the guitar while Dokyeom sang a random line from one of Mariah Carey's songs. You and Yejin passed around some marshmallows while someone yelled out, “Alright, time for a game of Truth or Dare!”

“I got a good one!” One of the cheerleaders announced. Pointing at Seungcheol, she asks him to pick. Being the Leo that he is, the captain chose Dare. The cheerleader grins, “Sit next to someone you'd like to get to know better.”

For a moment, he hesitated.

You felt his gaze on you even as your gaze was focused on the fire, watching the sparks rise and disappear. The silence was torturous to the group, but their gaze soon followed his and landed on you. Mingyu nudges him, “You buffering, Captain?”

Seungcheol cleared his throat, his neck turning a light shade of red. He moves to sit next to you and the teasing was immediate

“OHH–”

Seungcheol glares at his team, “Shut your mouths before I make you lot run laps tomorrow morning.”

The cabin lights flickered on one-by-one as everyone retreated for the night.

In your cabin, Yejin is quick to start the conversation as soon as she kicks off her sandals and plops onto her bed. “So, are we going to talk about it or pretend it didn't happen?”

All eyes were on you.

You blinked, “Talk about..?”

Another girl turned her head, mid-way putting on her face mask. “Don't play dumb, ___. Obviously about Choi Seungcheol.”

The cabin erupts into a chorus of hums and giggles. You groaned, “Come on, girls. What's there to talk about?”

“Um, have you forgotten the incident where he lent you his jacket when it rained a few weeks ago?”

“How he sat next to you for the dare?”

“Not to mention the way he kept looking at you whenever you laughed. Like, constantly.”

You rolled your eyes, braiding your hair for sleep while also hoping the somewhat dim lighting managed to hide the warmth creeping up your neck. ”It doesn't mean anything. He's just being nice.”

Yejin snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right, nice. Last I remembered, the only people who got this level of ‘niceness’ were those girls he dated. And based on my observations, there's a difference when it comes to him being nice in general and down so bad I need this girl to be mine kind of nice.”

You don't respond – partially because you had no idea on how to respond to that. Even if you were to respond, what were you supposed to say? That for some odd reason, you kind of liked the way he hovered around you without it feeling like he was invading your personal space? That occasionally your heart would flutter at the thought of giving him a chance?

Noticing your lack of response, Yejin diverts the topic – not wanting to pry even though she wanted to.

Eventually, the voices softened. Someone had fallen asleep mid-scroll, the dim light of their phone lighting up their face before blacking out. Another cheerleader muttered something in her sleep before rolling over, snoring softly. One by one, the girls in your cabin settled into sleep – except you.

You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling with the sound of waves rhythmically crashing against the shore playing in the background. Your mind replays several instances of Seungcheol essentially pining after you. While you try to convince yourself that it meant nothing, you begin to doubt your thoughts too.

That doesn't really answer a lot though – why you?

Out of all the cheerleaders, out of all the girls – why specifically you?

You shifted carefully, careful to not wake either of the girls as you slipped out the cabin. Walking along the shoreline, you let the tide roll onto the cool sand and occasionally soak your feet. It was peaceful and the view was breathtaking, bringing you a sense of peace.

You stop when you feel someone behind you. Turning around, you're face-to-face with Seungcheol.

“Creeping up on me now, Captain?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “I view it more as me making sure you don't get hurt out here, sunshine.”

“By walking at a very questionable distance behind me?”

“Touche.”

You let him come up to stand next to you, watching the silver painted ocean while the gentle breeze blows in your faces. “Guess I'm not the only one that can’t sleep tonight,” he starts. “Penny for your thoughts?”

For a second, you had an internal debate. Do you ask him about his feelings? Or should you just… play dumb and act like nothing is going on?

The words slipped through your lips before you could stop them.

“Do you like me?”

The captain blinks, clearly caught off guard. His lips part, then shuts; and opens again. For a second, you wonder if you had maybe read too much into it – that maybe Yejin and Jihoon also read too much into his actions. But, he lets out a quiet huff. “Should've known Jihoon said something to you when he sat next to you.”

“Yejin said some things too,” you added.

“Of course she did.”

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, looking up at the stars. “They're not wrong, though. I do like you. Like, like like you. As in, I want you to be my girlfriend kind of like.”

You stare at him, taking in the way he looks right now. The moonlight softened his usual sharp features, stripping away any roughness that's usually seen on the field. Right now, he just looks… gentle. Soft. Like he just belongs to the calmness of the night.

“But… Why?”

He looks at you,”Do I really need a reason to like you, sunshine?”

“Um… In this day and age, clearly. How can I be sure you aren't those jocks that tell cheerleaders they like them to get up their skirts?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah… The media and how some of the boys act aren’t really helping my case, huh?” Sighing, he turns to look at you – really look at you. What caught your breath was the look in his eyes.

Genuine. Full of emotions.

“Look, I just… I don’t want you to look at me and think I’m like that,” he starts. “How jocks, athletes and captains are all the same. I get it, y’know. A few bad apples s’all it takes to ruin the bunch, but I don’t want you thinking I’m just another version.”

“Another version of what, Seungcheol?”

“That I don’t mean what I say. That I thrive off of attention, which while is true, doesn’t apply to… romantic interests. I don’t want you thinking that I’m doing all this just to get up your skirt and leave.”

A breeze picked up and a shiver shot up your spine. The word slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away, tearing his gaze away from you to look at the dark ocean. “I do things with intent, sunshine. Sure, you could look at what I’m doing right now like I’m trying to increase my chances of sleeping with you; but that’s not my intention. You… You kind of… expect the worst from people, which I don’t blame you for. But I don’t want to be that.”

You swallowed, “You don’t know me that well.”

“And I want to.”

Silence followed – the air charged with something and the ocean kept lapping at the shore.

“I don’t offer my trust to just anyone. Especially when that trust involves my feelings.”

He waited for a ‘But’ that never came. It was evident to the rugby captain that chasing after this little cheerleader would be a challenge.

Luckily, he’s never one to back down.

After a while, he stood. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s probably going to be even hectic before we head back to campus.” He offers you his hand, and you hesitated for several seconds before taking it.

“Yeah… Yeah, we should,” you mumbled.

He gently helped you up and only let go when you were steady.

“Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, captain.”

Several weeks have passed since that night by the beach.

There was no drastic change in the way Seungcheol interacts with you, but he has been acting more… thoughtful? Considerate? You weren’t even sure what word to use. Sure, your routine in Cheonghwa is pretty much the same – it’s just that now you’re seen with a particular rugby captain more often.

How it started?

Well, let’s just say that Seungcheol has taken it upon himself to walk you home.

It started off unintentionally, or at least that’s what you both have been telling yourselves.

Practice ran later than expected one evening. By the time you had finished stuffing your pompoms into your duffel and zipped up your hoodie to hide the cheer uniform, the field light flickered to life. You sigh, slinging the bag over your shoulder and begin to walk across the field towards the gates.

You were about halfway there when you heard quick footsteps catching up to you.

“If you’re thinking of jumping me–”

“Whoa there, sunshine.”

Seungcheol had his hands raised in mock surrender, his own duffel hanging over his shoulder. “I’m not a threat.”

“Count yourself lucky I didn’t have my pepper spray in hand, captain,” you retort. “Could’ve blinded the star player before his Friday game.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Honest. I just… Well, your studio is in the same direction as mine so…”

The jock almost wants to kick himself at how bad he’s failing in trying to act and sound non-chalant.

“Are you offering to walk me home, Seungcheol?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

From that night on, it became part of your routine if practice ran on longer than usual. He’d catch up to you without a word, his pace adjusting to match yours almost immediately. After the first three times, Seungcheol’s even took it upon himself to carry your duffel bag for you – letting it hang over his own shoulder. You’ve tried to protest several times, technically every time, but he just shrugs it off.

“I want to do this, sunshine. Let me, alright?”

The walks with him were comforting, easy even. The conversations you both had never felt forced. It just came naturally – he’d ask about your routines, you’d ask about his pre-game ‘rituals’. Sometimes he’d even ask you about your classes, which subject made you nervous or which lecturer needed to be better at their job. Whenever you complained, he’d always make sure your feelings were valid.

When you talked about pressure and expectations, he shared some of his own experiences. How while he loved being captain, it was still a role he wasn’t expecting to receive.

“I always thought it’d be either Wonwoo or Jihoon to be honest,” he chuckled. “They’re both more… strategic.”

He goes on about how there were days he wishes he wasn’t captain – that the weight of leadership was heavy, especially when everyone expects you to have all the answers when you were figuring things out too.

Whenever you reach the lobby of your studio, he’d always make sure you walked through those gates. He never insisted that he followed you up to your studio in case it was crossing a line.

“Text me when you’re inside,” he would say, every time.

And every single time, you would.

What you didn’t know was that he’d only leave the lobby if he got that text. On the days you’d forget or were too tired to, he’d linger around for about ten minutes before leaving.

seungcheol 🏉: hey sunshine seungcheol 🏉: u up? seungcheol 🏉: kinda need hlp with some stuff sunshine ☀️: it’s 12am captain sunshine ☀️: what help could u possibly need? seungcheol 🏉: can i call u?

At first you thought he just needed to jog up his memory from previous classes – ones he’s taken before but had forgotten, and since you were both in the same course, it’d only make sense for him to do so. It was just two students helping each other with their grades, until you remembered he’s made the Dean’s List the past two years.

“You don’t actually need help, do you?” You asked over the phone.

Seungcheol lets out a laugh, one that’s warm and sheepish – like he’s been caught red-handed. “Okay, you got me. I don’t really need help with my studies.”

“Then why the calls?”

A pause.

It wasn’t the awkward kind, but you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully.

Then, he sighs. “Look, sunshine. I… I really like hearing your voice. I think it’s cute and admirable that you’re trying to explain something that you haven’t learnt, but still did it because you wanted to help me. And… Well, I like you.”

“You know I don’t trust anyone with my feelings, captain,” you reminded him. “Especially jocks.”

“I know,” he mutters. “I know you’re… scared of something, and I know my… courting methods probably aren’t making it any better. But, that doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying to earn your trust.”

His words had your fingers tightening around your phone. He wasn’t begging nor was he making a promise that’s too big to deliver.

He was just being honest.

Those calls stretched longer as time went on. Sometimes it’s about classes and exams; other times it’s just him indirectly getting to know you a little better. He’d ask you about your favourite colour, your childhood memories – sometimes he’d manage to get you to open up just enough where you’d say things you rarely said out loud.

Then, there were nights when exhaustion wins over you and you’d fall asleep mid-sentence.

Seungcheol never tried to wake you up.

He doesn’t hang up immediately either. He just listens to your steady, quiet breathing for a few minutes before he does hang up.

Like he’s making a silent promise to stay with you even when there are days where the world feels too heavy, where you’re too tired to speak.

One afternoon, right after practice, Yejin approaches you in the locker room. She leans against one of the mirrors, arms crossed when she says very matter-of-factly, “Seungcheol’s in love with you.”

You scoffed, “He’s not.”

“___, he carries your bag.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I heard he’s been calling you at night, too.”

“Studies.”

Yejin raised a brow.

You pursed your lips together, realising how weak that argument was. “Okay, fine – I’ll let you have that one…”

Another girl chimed in softly, “I’m gonna be honest, girl, he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the room. Anyone would kill to have that kind of attention from him.”

Your words came out harsher than intended, “That’s the problem.”

The silence that followed was heavy. You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Everyone wants his attention. Everyone wants him. Sure, he says all these sweet words and pays attention to me now; but jocks are all the same. They’ll get bored, ‘busy’, or maybe someone else will come along and then suddenly, you’re just… an afterthought to them.”

Yejin sighs, “Seungcheol isn’t like that, _.”

“How do you know for sure he isn’t like that?”

Tense silence fell over the locker room once again.

Against your paranoia or overthinking self, part of you wants to believe what Yejin is saying about Seungcheol. Hell, you want to believe the captain is genuine, too – especially with how his unspoken confession was seen everywhere.

In the way his knuckles brushed yours when he walked you home.

In the way he searches for you after winning every game with that stupid grin.

In the way his gaze softened whenever it met yours.

To the cheer and rugby squad, it was obvious that Choi Seungcheol’s feelings and intentions were pure even if you didn’t want to admit it.

And that terrifies you.

Seungcheol finds you sitting on one of the bleachers later that evening, lost in your own thoughts. He takes a seat next to you, maintaining a small; yet respectable distance between you both. The kind that tells you he’ll give you space, but if you need a shoulder to cry on, he’s just within reach.

“Yejin came to me to have a little chat,” he said carefully.

He hears you suck in a sharp breath. Turning to look at you, he studies your face. “She didn’t say anything bad about you, don’t worry. Just said that based on her observations or conversation from earlier, you have some… trust issues.”

He lets his words hang in the air for a moment.

“I’m not here to corner you, sunshine. I’m not here to force answers out of you too. I just… I want you to know that whatever it is you’re carrying, I’m not offended nor am I afraid of it.”

You let out a slow breath, though it trembled just a little. “It’s not you. I’m just… not good at trusting people without being reminded that there are consequences.”

He nods. “People don’t build walls without reason.”

He nudges you a little with his elbow, “I’m patient too, y’know.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Again, my feelings or actions aren’t temporary, sunshine. I really mean it when I say I want to be a part of your life. Highs and lows. Pretty and ugly. All of it.”

You desperately wanted to believe him, but the fear won’t let you.

“I’m not going to forcefully tear down your walls. I just… I want you to know that I’m willing to stand by your side. If you’ll have me.”

You slowly turn to meet his gaze. The longing and devotion in them were loud. They were telling you that he’s already chosen you.

You should’ve told him to leave. Tell him you wanted him to stop this pursuit quest he’s set his mind on.

But, you don’t.

taglist;

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. 

"I'm guessing the game didn't go the way you wanted?" You allow a hand to rise, fingers scratching at his head in an effort to comfort him despite your own desperate state.

He simply groans and presses a kiss to your neck and you just about died. Your chest tightened with need, the knot coursing through your body until it landed between your thighs and you were aching with lust. 

You laugh to keep yourself from groaning, spread your legs just a little wider so he could get more comfortable and so you could feel him better. 

"Lost by one point, it's not fair. I carried that team, it was basically me vs eleven people." 

You knew how passionate Zuko was about soccer and how talented he was. You both had been signed up when you were children, though you had switched to gymnastics only a few months later. He was competitive and to lose was a huge blow to his ego. This wasn't the first time he came to your house after and cuddled you.

You knew this was completely platonic, nothing romantic about it but a small part of you couldn't help but grow hopeful because despite the many cuddle sessions you shared, he'd never kissed you before. Was his anger clouding his judgement or was he trying to tell you he felt the same but couldn't say it?

Childhood trauma made it hard for him to communicate his feelings. 

"That's still a win for you, but I get it. Wanna talk about it more?"

You take in a sharp breath when he lifts his head and stares down at you, his huge frame covering yours as he shakes his head no. 

"Can you wash my hair after I shower?" Zuko's golden eyes burn into yours and your stomach is breakdancing, heart skipping a few beats as your pupils widen to truly take him in.

The way his hair fell into his face, half covering the scar on his left eye that he had gotten when you were young, skin tanned and glowing from the summer sun creeping through the curtains. 

He was so beautiful that it was unfair. You wanted him to be yours, to pull his head down and finally kiss his lips, especially when he let his eyes drift to yours. You watched his throat as he swallowed and adjusted his body above you, his hips digging into yours. 

"Yes." You whisper and swallow, annoyed that your cold wasn't letting you fully enjoy this moment, suddenly self conscious of the fact that you had tissue shoved into your nostril and probably looked ridiculous. 

"If you don't squish me to death first."You awkwardly laugh and squirm when he doesn't respond and only tilts his head and smiles. 

"Hmm, deal." Then his body is leaving yours and you regret ever saying anything. 

You washed his hair that night and cried yourself to sleep later when he mentioned he had a date to get to, someone Sokka had introduced him to, but he would text you later to let you know how it went. 

The next "cuddle" session had nearly gone your way and you wanted to curse your friend's entire bloodlines for ruining it. 

It was a month after his game and you were sitting on his kitchen counter, idly scrolling through TikTok as Zuko moved about the room making dinner. You'd occasionally lift your head to sneak a look, pussy throbbing every time your eyes caught the way his compression shirt hugged his chest. 

Zuko wasn't disgustingly ripped, you know, like how some guys were all muscles and veins to the point where it was unattractive. He sported the perfect athletic body thanks to years of soccer, wide shoulders with a narrow waist and his muscles were well defined. 

He was perfect in every way possible. He had even decided to let his hair fall loose when you complained that he always had it up and it would start to knot if he didn’t free it every once in a while. 

Twenty minutes pass with you scrolling and Zuko humming a song while standing over the stove. When a video popped up with that trend of girlfriends seeing if their boyfriends would grunt when lifting them up, you were instantly jumping down and practically skipping to your friend with a devious smile on your face.

"Zuuukooo. Hey, can we try this trend?" You stand to his side and shove the phone up into his face. 

He squinted as he looked at the screen, shaking his head as he smiled and then sighed. He lowered the temperature on the stove and dropped the mixing spoon on the counter, turning to you and before you could process what was happening, you were in the air. 

Zuko had lifted you without grunting and your face burned as you gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, though his grip on your waist was tight enough. Both hands handling onto each side of you, your feet well off the ground as your legs dangled. 

Zuko hadn't broken a sweat, pulling your body closer and your legs wrapped around him out of pure survival instinct. You pulled your face back to stare at him, words lost as your brain turned into goo. Your friend was a different kind of beast for sure. 

"Now what? Do I get a treat for passing?" He's smirking and you wanted to throttle him, his words vibrating through your body and making your cunt clinch against nothing. 

He had no idea the effect he had on you.

"I don't have anything to give you." You whisper and gulp when his eyes travel to your lips, just as they did last time. Butterflies were clogging your chest and stomach, your brain short-circuiting.

"Hmm." He pulls your body closer, hands moving to grip your ass for better leverage. "I'm sure there's something yo-"

A loud knock came from the front door and was followed by the sound of four giggling voices. Toph yelling for Zuko to open up. The man holding you grunts and rolls his eyes, lowering you and not moving his hands until your feet are back on the ground. 

You were going to kill them violently. 

As your friends all pile into the kitchen and Zuko resumes his cooking, you both can't help but steal secretive looks at each other. Well not that secretive since Katara noticed, because of course she did. You were too flushed, too lost to your thoughts to see the way she'd look between you both with a knowing smile.

You went home beyond horny that night, your rose toy turning on the moment your body hit your bed, a certain 6'2 soccer player on your mind. 

The third cuddle session that changed things between you two was after your date went horribly wrong. The guy was terrible, he only talked about himself and refused to let you get a word in unless you were responding to something he said. 

He was far from your type and when you apologized and told him you didn't think this was going to work, he fumed and told you that you weren't his kind of girl anyways. That hadn't bothered you but what did was the way he stormed out and left you with the bill. 

You covered it but it would hurt your pockets since you were a broke college student with rent to pay and didn't have money to waste on losers like him. When Zuko had picked you up and you told him what happened, he apologized, offered to refund you for the bill and asked if you wanted him to find the man and make him apologize for disrespecting you. 

You were fuming in the passenger seat of his car, arms crossed against your chest as you glared out the window watching the lights and buildings fly by. 

"No, please just take me home." 

Zuko only nods, tightening his hand around the wheel as his own anger burns hot. You could practically feel the heat simmering off his skin, his jaw taut as he focused on the road ahead. You’d think he was the one that was slighted.

When he pulled up outside your place, he killed the engine and looked at you, his eyes full of concern for the girl he had grown up with. "Want me to come in with you? I can stay until you feel better." 

You were nodding without hesitation and thanking the gods that you had your own place outside of campus. 

That's how you ended up with his chest pressed against your back, arm tightening around you as he pulled you close and tangled his leg with yours. Best friends cuddled all the time right? There was no reason for your body to be reacting the way it did, stomach twist as you felt his semi-hard cock press into your ass. 

This was totally normal, even if your face turned into a furnace and your heart told you this was in fact, far from normal. You’d never cuddle with Sokka or Aang like this. 

"You didn't deserve that, I'm sorry love." He breaks through your thoughts.

The way he whispered your nickname sent shivers through your body. It was something he had called you for the twenty plus years you knew each other but now that you were sure you were in love with him, it made the name feel too endearing. 

You flipped in his arms so that you could see his face and the sight of him laying in your bed was so domestic, you could feel your body start to melt. The way he stared at you, mouth slightly open, eyes holding your gaze while his hand moved to your hip and rubbed circles on your exposed skin. 

"Do you think I'm unloveable?" You whisper. The question wasn't because your date didn't think you were his type, more so that he had stormed off and left you sitting there like you meant nothing. 

Zuko glares, seeming annoyed that you were letting some loser ruin your mood this much. It was unlike you but he had no idea that as your feelings grew for him so did your insecurities. 

How could he ever want a girl like you? You didn't seem like someone he'd be attracted to based on his dating history and you hated that it made you question your own looks. 

"How could you be unloveable when I love you?"

Your face flushed and you wiggle an inch away, eyes wide and heart stopping as he pulled you back. 

"You can't just say things like that, plus it doesn't count. We've been friends for so long that you have no choice but to care for me. Don’t tease me, jerk." 

He smirks and reaches down to grab your leg, lifting it over his hip so that he could pull you closer. You were sure your panties were ruined. 

He perched his head onto his hand and stared down at you, a loose strand of hair falling from his bun. He moved his other hand from your leg and used it to feel the skin of your cheek, fingers moving until they gripped your chin.

Had you died? That was the only explanation for this heavenly feeling you were experiencing, your entire body trembling under his stare as you lost yourself to his eyes. 

"Don't say stupid things then (name). It makes me irrationally mad." 

"But it's true. How could someone love me-"

"Shut up." 

The world tilted when he smashed his lips against yours, your body sinking embarrassingly fast into his. You locked your legs around his hips when he pushed you onto your back with his body placed on top of yours. 

You both moan into the kiss, lips parting when his tongue rubs against them asking for permission. Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer, neither of you coming up for air until you lifted your hips to grind against his hard cock and he was pulling away to gasp. 

"Fuck- don't do that love. I'm barely controlling myself right now, don't wanna disrespect you." And despite his words, his hips still grind into you and the way his cock rubs against your clothed pussy has you tossing your head back with a moan until he pulls you back. 

"Please? It'll make me feel better, I need you so bad Zuko." 

You blink at him with wide doe eyes and long lashes and his self control snaps as he pushes his lips against yours again, one hand grabbing your leg to keep it around his waist, the other pushed into the bed above your head so he could hold himself up. 

"If I do this, there's no going back. You'll be mine only, I don't share." 

Was this really happening right now? Zuko never showed any signs of being interested in you and while you were happy he shared the same feelings, you were genuinely confused, blinking up at your best friend with furrowed eyebrows. 

"Do you- I didn't think you were interested in that way." 

Zuko's chuckling, leaning down to place a kiss on your brow before pulling back to look at you again, golden eyes shining with amusement and lust. 

"Did you think I was cuddling you for the sake of it? I've been in love with you since I was eleven, I just didn't think you felt the same until that day in my kitchen." 

Tears well up in your ears and when one slips free, Zuko leans forward and kisses it away before taking your lips again, tongues tangling as you lace your fingers into his hair, pulling the hair tie loose and relishing in the way his hair falls free and into your face. 

Zuko's softly cradling your face, kissing you like he had years of lost time to make up for and you let out all the love you had locked away for years. All of it pouring into one kiss, the weight of the world lifting off your shoulder because he loved you back and as more than just a friend. 

He placed one more kiss to your lips before moving to your neck, licking and sucking hard so it bruises, hands moving to grab your covered tits. 

"Quit teasing.. Zuko, s'not.. fair." You managed to say between heavy breaths, chest moving up and down harshly as you fought back the urge to push him back and start riding him without any foreplay. 

"Let me take my time, love. Have so much to make up for." 

And you keep your mouth shut, biting your lip to keep from crying because this was a dream come true. Zuko loved you, he loved you and this wasn't just your imagination, far better than one of the dreams you so often had. 

After another minute he finally moves to sit back on his knees, not wasting any time and pulling your shirt off and then his. You gasp at being so suddenly exposed, not that it was the first time he saw you in a bra but never in this way. Not when he was about to fuck you and truly make you his. 

“Just stay still for me, alright? You can do that for me, right baby?” His voice is low and laced with desire, your eyes growing cloudy and mouth filling with drool at the sight of his bare chest. His sweats were hanging low on his hips and the way his dark happy trail disappeared into his red boxers had you soaked. 

You nod stupidly, spit forming at the corners of your mouth. He was doing something to your brain because you couldn’t speak, just stared at the man like he hung the moon. 

Zuko chuckled, a hand coming down to rub your cheek. “Good girl. Spread your legs for me, love.” 

You do as he says, your head spinning and a lump forming in your throat when he pulls your skirt and panties down at the same time. The way he stared down at you after tossing your clothes aside had you a little self conscious, hands going to cover your body but Zuko was faster than you, grabbing it tightly and tossing it aside with a warning glare. 

“You’re perfect, stop fucking hiding frome me.” 

You almost cry again but swallow your tears and the lump in your throat, choosing instead to focus on the ache between your legs. 

Zuko drops to his stomach and moves until his face is between your legs, grabbing them to place on his shoulders, staring up at you with a lifted brow. “Don’t be shy, wrap your legs around me.” 

Holy shit, there was no way he couldn’t see the slick dripping down your legs and onto the sheets because you were drenched. His words send you into a frenzy as you do as he says, legs tightening around his head as he smirks and places kisses onto your thighs. 

“I’ll show you exactly why I’m much better than those scumbags you keep wasting your time with. Hold onto me, baby.”

He grips your hips and pulls you further down the bed until your cunt was directly on his face. 

Zuko starts by licking a long strip from your creamy hole to your clit, moving the pink muscle in circles around the sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth and sucking hard. 

“Oh fuck! Zuko, haah that f-feels so good.” Your stomach tingles and tightens as you reach a hand down into his hair and move your hips against his tongue. 

You were growing impossibly wetter, your slick covering Zuko’s face as he went to work, groaning against your pussy as he devoured you as though he hadn't eaten in days, all but inhaling you. The way he was so completely lost to you had your stomach tightening all too soon as you cried out, hands tightening around his hair. 

“Don’t stop, m’gonna cum.” You cry, literal tears sliding down your face as you tossed your head to the side, face digging into your pillow. Your chest moving too fast as you tried to catch your breath, trying to stop yourself from cumming too fast. 

Zuko didn’t stop, in fact he added two fingers to prep you further, instantly curling them to hit that spot that had your squishy walls tightening around him. 

You were blindsided by the sudden added pressure and thirty seconds later, you were crying out as sweat beaded on your forehead, pulsing pleasure ripping through you as your orgasm stole your breath. You had never cum so fast in your life, body shaking as you felt every layer of pleasure, Zuko licking and sucking you through it, hand pushing down on your stomach and you swear you came a second time. 

You were in bliss as your legs fell back onto the bed, the dark haired man making his way back up your body. He stared down at you as you attempted to catch your breath, face proudly glistening with your juice as he rubbed at your shaking thigh. 

Your eyes were slowly shutting, brain rattling from the intense orgasm your best friend had just given you. You should have told him sooner, shouldn't have wasted time secretly obsessing over him when you could have been getting your pussy eaten like that. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.” His voice was teasing and you opened your eyes to frown at him despite how heavy they felt, still finding it hard to believe that he was above you like this. 

He was so beautiful, reaching to pull down his sweats and boxers, just enough to free himself and holy fuck, your best friend was packing. Drool started to seep from the corners of your mouth at the sight of his hard cock teasing you, the tip red and already leaking pre cum.

When you went to sit up in hopes of tasting him, he pushed you back down and when you went to sit up again, he kept his hand at your shoulder to hold you down while he grabbed his cock with his other hand and started dragging his hand up and down, grip tight as he pleasured himself, thumb rubbing at the tip and using his pre as lube. 

“Not this time, love. Do you have condoms?” 

Your heart dropped. This was really, truly happening. “Y-yes, but you don’t have to wear one. I’m- ahem, I’m clean and I’m on birth control.”

He bites back a smile, chest shaking as he silently laughs. You want to die from embarrassment. 

“Do you want me to wear one, baby?”

You didn't, which was unlike you since you never let a guy sleep with you without one, but this was Zuko and you wanted to feel every inch of him, had waited years too. Something primal settling in your chest at the though of him fucking you raw.   

So you’re shaking your head no and gasping when he rubs the tip against your wet folds. “Thank god. Need to feel how wet you are.” 

You’re nodding like a fool, swallowing hard when he leans down and over you to catch your lips again. It’s soft this time, his lips lightly brushing against yours as he lines himself up with your entrance. 

He slowly starts to push in, giving you a second to breathe with every push you take until all eight inches of his cock is deep inside you, Zuko moving his hips in circles to get deep until he completely bottoms out. 

His lips are over yours as you breath in each other's air, your eyes squeezing from the sting of the stretch. Zuko was not only long but he was thick and it was taking a minute for you to adjust to his size. 

He was patient, littering your faces in sweet, gentle kisses until you bucked against him for more and he was sitting up to grab yours legs, looking down and groaning at the sight of his cock snug in your pussy, walls stretched around him. He pressed your legs to your chest and leaned over you again, slowly moving his hips and fighting the urge to start pounding into you. 

You were gripping him so tight, the first raw pussy Zuko had ever been in and he thought his stomach might explode with the way it was twisting. You looked so beautiful underneath him, taking his cock so well like you were always meant to.  

“Please move.” You whine, hair fanned out across the sheets you were gripping. 

Zuko didn’t waste any more time, already having done that since he first fell for you all those years ago. He was leaning forward again, hands connecting with yours as he placed them above your head. The first thrust he gives is gentle, just enough to prepare you as he holds your stare and slams into you the second time, the bed knocking against the wall as you cry out and close your eyes. 

Zuko would have told you to open your eyes any other time but the way your pussy was gripping felt so good that he was closing his own, mind still trying to process that he was really fucking you right now. 

All those nights he spent jacking off to the thought you were nothing compared to this, to the way you fit so perfectly around him, your pussy creaming and juices sticking to his abdomen as he started to pick up his pace. 

He didn’t want to rush this, but the way you were squirming beneath him, legs pressed to your chest as he pushed deep, had him pounding ruthlessly into you. His anger grew hot at the thought of you wasting your time with those losers, at them having you in this way.

He would show you that he was always the better option and then he’d have you ride him to show him how much better you were than those girls he was never really into. 

He leans further down to capture your lips again, cock dragging between your swollen folds as he takes you deep and hard. You were mumbling incoherently, ecstasy taking root in your body as Zuko gripped your throat and moved his hips in circular motions to rub against your clit. 

You were on cloud nine as you traded spit, the kiss all teeth and tongue. Your hips started to lift to meet his thrusts and the choked groan Zuko gave, boosted your confidence as you fucked each other. 

“So fucking tight, love. Best pussy I ever h-had.” 

You’re lost in each other, the only sounds in the room are your heavy breathing and the sound of the bed creaking and banging against the wall. He takes you like that for a bit, your legs pressed against your chest as he basically folds you in half until he lowers them so he can feel your chest pressed against his. 

He grabs your chin and tilts your head up so he can kiss your lips again, only pulling back to stare at you. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He huffs out, a groan escaping when you tighten around him at the sound of the endearing pet name.

“Hi.” You whisper back, eyes hooded and your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. 

“I love you. I always- ngggh, I always have.” Zuko confesses, grinding deep and your bottom lip trembles.

“I love you too, more than you know.”

And his eyes start to burn so he’s picking up his pace again, your jelly-like legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him closer to keep him inside of you. He’s so deep that you feel his tip kissing your cervix, your pussy gripping him tight, sucking up his cock and refusing to let go. He would stay there forever if it was up to you. 

“Not gonna last long, baby. Shit, you feel too g-good.” He kisses you to cover up the embarrassing moan that almost slipped out, eyes rolling back as the coil in his stomach tightened and threatened to snap. He could feel his balls growing heavy with cum, the human instinct to breed you filling his head. 

How beautiful would you look dripping with his seed? The thought had him spiraling, thrust growing erratic. 

Your nails are digging into his back, the burn doing nothing but adding to the pleasure he felt. You had no idea that one his kinks was pain, and the way your fingers left marks on his back had him spilling into you with a deep and long groan before he could stop himself. 

“Fuuuckkk, I’m cumming baby. Shit, I’m filling you so fucking much.” He cried out, hips snapping sloppily into yours, his crude words sending you over the edge.

You cum hard at the feeling of his hot seed dripping down your ass and onto the bed, Zuko never stopping because this was the longest orgasm of his life. His balls pulsed as he shot rope after rope of hot cum into you, sitting up quickly and pulling out when he remembered he wasn't wearing a condom. 

He threw his head back and sang songs of pure lust, gripping his cock and jerking himself as cum spilled from the tip and onto your stomach. It wasn’t a lot as most of it was inside of you, but the sight still left him breathless and hard. 

He collapsed on top of you when he was spent, his sticky cum basically gluing you two together. Neither of you say a word as you catch your breath, the smell of sex filling the moonlit room, the reality of what just happened hitting you. 

You’re frozen under him, heart skipping beats while your mind raced. Was this a spur of the moment kind of thing? He was just comforting you after a date gone wrong, he couldn’t have meant what he said.. Right? 

“Zuko-”

“I love you and I meant it.” He answered every insecure question racing through your head with seven words, knowing you all too well. It made your chest swell with love, the way he always knew what you were going to say before actually saying it as if your souls were connected. 

He was your person and you were his.

He lifts up to look at you again, a devious smile spreading across his face as he reaches a hand down and uses two fingers to rub at your swollen clit, slowly moving to your hole and pushing his cum back inside. 

“Make no mistake (name), you’re mine and I’m gonna fuck you until every ounce of doubt leaves that pretty little head of yours. Got it?”

The next morning you’re standing in the bathroom, body sore and brushing your teeth when Zuko comes in behind, still half asleep and wearing nothing but his boxers, his hair wild on his head. He stood behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder where your shirt hung loose. 

“Morning.” Neither of you say another word as he grabs his spare toothbrush he kept at your place, added toothpaste and started brushing his teeth. 

He used his other hand to sneak under your shirt and hold onto your boob, squeezing it tiredly as he stared at you in the mirror with half closed eyes and pulled you closer.

You never wanted him to stop cuddling you.

❦ lisa's note: i'd do crazy things to modern zuko, like I need him real bad.

꒰ as requested by the lovely @kiyara-blues5999 ꒱

art by internet famous, divider by @cursed-carmine ♡

You could only shiver helplessly in his arms, the aftershocks of the orgasm completely controlling your nerves and paralysing your limbs. "Y-Yes," you breathed.

"Shall I stop?" he asked. He looked at your undone face, ensuring he hadn't overwhelmed you.

You frantically shook your head, your fingers clutching his shoulders. "N-no, mate me. I n-need the knot... I need your seed." You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes with a needy, utterly desperate whimper. "Please."

Hearing your submission, Levi’s jaw clenched. He held you tightly against his chest, refusing to let a single inch of his cock slip out of your soaking warmth, and carried you over to his massive oak desk. He carefully laid you down onto the smooth wood. Your back instinctively arched in pure pleasure as his thick shaft shifted deep inside your womb from the movement of your body.

Levi hovered over you, his chest heaving as he looked down at you splayed out on his desk, your hair messy, your skin flushed, and your thighs wide open for him. You looked like the most perfect, beautiful meal.

He ran his large hand down the curve of your stomach, his fingers trailing down your soft skin as he began bucking into you all over again. His pace was slower now, deeper.

"I have such a perfect mate," Levi growled, a dark, possessive purr vibrating in his chest as he buried his full length into you, hitting your sensitive cervix with a heavy, deliberate thud. "Look at how beautifully you take me. Look at how tight you are for your Alpha."

You let out a broken cry, your hands reaching up to grip the edges of the desk as he ground his pelvis hard against your pussy lips.

"You're mine," Levi murmured fiercely, leaning down so his mouth was just an inch from yours, his hot breath mingling with your groans. He gripped one of your thighs, pinning it flat against the desk to open you up even wider, exposing your slick, twitching centre to his relentless gaze. "Every single inch of this beautiful body belongs to me. Nobody else gets to see you like this. Nobody else gets to hear these noises you make for me. Just me."

He pulled back, his eyes locked on the place where your bodies joined. Watching himself slide smoothly in and out of your soaking folds was driving him crazy, but he intentionally held back his own release, determined to worship you until you were entirely spent. He bucked his hips again, a long, rolling thrust that made your stomach flutter.

"Good girl, keep taking it all," he praised, his voice a spell that made your Omega core ache with love. "You're doing so well for me, sweetheart. Let your Alpha take care of you. Let me breed you."

He leaned down to capture your mouth in a deep, slow, and possessive kiss, his tongue mimicking the heavy friction of his hips as he continued to make slow, passionate love to you on the desk, marking your soul just as deeply as he had marked your skin.

The slow, devastating movement of Levi’s hips was a beautifully calculated torture. Every deep, rolling thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge all over again. The friction of his thick Ackerman shaft rubbing against your highly sensitive, swollen walls was too intense, forcing your body to tighten frantically around him as the pressure built into a roaring crescendo.

"Levi—ah! I'm going to... I'm coming again!" you cried out, your fingers desperately clawing at the desk beneath you.

The moment Levi felt your inner walls begin to twitch and clamp down on him, he stopped his thrusts. With a groan of sheer willpower, he pulled his length nearly all the way out of you, leaving only the broad, throbbing tip teasing your entrance. He braced his large hands on either side of your hips, leaning back just enough to watch you come undone right below him.

A loud, shattered sob tore from your throat as your body climaxed without his movement. Your back arched completely off the desk, your chest heaving as the intense waves of your second orgasm ripped through your nerves. Your hot Omega slick came pouring out of you, dripping down his thick shaft and coating his knuckles. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, your toes curling as you practically vibrated from the sheer force of the pleasure.

Levi looked down at you, a wave of pure satisfaction washing over his sharp features. A dark, possessive smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his silver eyes completely blown out as he took in the sight.

You looked absolutely breathtaking. Your hair was wildly fanned out across his desk, your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was rising and falling in ragged gasps. Your thighs were completely trembling and wide open, entirely vulnerable and beautifully ruined just for him.

He let out a deep, rumbling Alpha purr that vibrated the very wood beneath you. He reached down with one hand, his calloused fingers gently stroking the inside of your shaking thigh, leaning over you to press a soft, adoring kiss to your sweat-slicked forehead.

"Look at you," Levi growled softly, his voice thick with adoration. "So beautiful. Look at how pretty my mate looks when she cums for me. My perfect little Omega."

Levi looked down at your beautifully ruined form, his chest heaving as the sweet, heavy scent of your second release filled every corner of the office. The primal pull was too strong now. The desk was fine for a quick, desperate claim, but his Alpha instincts were screaming at him to properly nest with his mate, to take you to a place of total comfort where he could lock you down completely.

With an effortless lift, Levi scooped you up into his arms, keeping your bare legs wrapped securely around his waist. He didn't let his cock slip from your soaking warmth for even a second, carrying you across the room to the small, cosy cot nestled in the corner of his office.

He lay you down onto the soft, clean sheets, immediately hovering over you and pinning your hands above your head. His silver eyes were completely dark, the last remnants of his civilised composure burning away into feral dominance.

"This is it, brat," Levi rasped, his voice dropping into a deep, dirty, and possessive register that made your core instantly throb. "I'm locking you to me now. I’m going to knot you so deep you won't remember your own damn name."

You let out a needy, breathless whimper, your back arching off the mattress as he re-aligned his thick, heavy shaft.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Levi began to ravage you. He drove into you with a fierce, unrelenting speed, his hips slamming ruthlessly against yours. The dirty words poured from his lips against your neck. "You're getting completely filled with my seed, you hear me? I'm going to stretch you out, lock my knot inside your pretty little pussy, and keep you pinned under me until I know you're carrying my heir. You're mine to breed, sweetheart. Just mine."

The sheer, dirty intensity of his mating talk drove your Omega mind into an absolute frenzy. You dragged your nails across his chest, howling in pure pleasure as the bedpost rattled against the wall. Every heavy thrust was a brutal, perfect claim.

As he continued to make deep, worshipful love to you, the base of his cock began to throb. You gasped, your eyes widening as you felt a sudden, massive fullness stretching your entrance, his Alpha knot was rapidly swelling to its true, intimidating size.

"Levi—it's too big—ah!" you screamed, your internal walls desperately trying to accommodate the massive growth.

"Take it all for your Alpha," Levi growled, his jaw clenching as he used his full weight to push the thick, swollen ball of his knot completely inside your tight, soaking core.

The incredible, overwhelming sensation of his massive knot passing your threshold and locking himself inside you was the absolute breaking point. A blinding flash of white-hot pleasure shattered your vision, and you came harder than you ever had in your life, your internal muscles convulsing violently in massive, desperate clamps around his locked shaft.

Levi let out a shattered, primal growl as your tight release squeezed him. He couldn't move fully anymore, but he shifted what little he could, nudging his thick, pulsing knot deep inside your twitching walls to ensure every drop would hit its mark.

Finally, his control ruptured.

Levi leaned down and bit into your shoulder, his sharp teeth clamping hard to anchor himself as his hot Alpha seed began to explode deep inside your womb. He held you so close it felt like he wanted to pull you inside his own skin, his body rigid and shaking violently as he ejaculated in thick, heavy, endless pulses, filling you to the absolute brim while you both drifted into the blissful eternity of the fated mate bond.

As the thick, hot pulses of his seed continued to fill you to the absolute brim, Levi felt the fierce tension in his muscles finally begin to melt away. Locked tightly inside your soaking, twitching core by the massive swell of his knot, he knew he wasn't going anywhere for a while. The biological lock had you bound together on the mattress, perfectly trapped in the afterglow of your fated union.

The terrifying, ruthless Alpha weapon completely vanished.

Levi leaned his weight onto his forearms, keeping his chest pressed flush against your soft, bare breasts. He looked down at your dazed, beautiful face with eyes that were now soft and filled with love. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a series of slow, lazy, and deeply affectionate kisses, tasting the sweet vanilla of your breath.

"My mate... my perfect, beautiful mate," Levi mumbled against your lips, his voice dropping into a warm, sleepy purr.

He pulled back just an inch, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear of pure pleasure from your cheek. He looked into your eyes, his protective instincts turning incredibly sweet. "Hey. Look at me, sweetheart. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

You shivered slightly under his heavy frame, a soft, content smile spreading across your face. You reached up, tangling your fingers in his damp, dark hair to pull him down for another quick kiss. "I'm okay, Levi. I promise. You were perfect... my Alpha."

Hearing your reassurance instantly sent humanity's strongest soldier into full, cute puppy mode.

A soft, low purr of happiness rumbled in his throat. Levi buried his face right back into the crook of your neck, loudly nuzzling his nose against your scent gland, inhaling your vanilla and winter berry scent like it was his oxygen. He peppered your collarbone, your jaw, and your cheeks with a barrage of tiny, adoring kisses, his lips moving with a playful, needy urgency that made you let out a breathless giggle.

He slid his hands up from the mattress, taking your small, shaking hands into his. Levi laced his long fingers through yours, lifting your hands to his face to kiss your knuckles, casually inspecting your palms and playing with your fingers like a lazy, content wolf guarding his favourite treasure.

"You're so small," he murmured affectionately, a rare, boyish smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he squeezed your hands. "Small and soft. Perfect for me."

As you lay there, trapped beneath his heavy knot and in the warm duvet, Levi suddenly slid one of his hands down to the soft flare of your waist. His long fingers began to lightly, playfully drum against your sensitive ribs, a wicked, teasing glint returning to his eyes.

"Levi, wait—" you gasped, instantly twisting your hips as the light friction sent a sudden burst of ticklish electricity through your nerves. You let out a bright laugh, trying to wiggle away from his fingers, but his knot kept you pinned perfectly in place. "Levi, stop, it tickles!"

"Tch. Let me love you, brat," Levi chuckled softly, his voice full of a beautiful warmth as he kept lightly tickling your sides, watching you squirm and laugh beneath him. He leaned down to press one final, deeply tender kiss right to the tip of your nose. "You're stuck with me now. Get used to it."

KIM RYUL

OOOH THIS MANNN THRIVES ON FEEDING THE RUMOURS, IN FACT I THINK HE RUNS THE MOST POPULAR RYUL X YN SHIP ACCOUNT ON TWITTER

it all started when people noticed you in the 2yul graduation vlog talking to ryul in the background and immediately clocked something was going on...

after that instance the hype kinda died down UNTIL HE BROUGHT UP HOW HIS TYPE IS SOMEONE WHO HAS A SOFT, GIRLY STYLE

and who else would he be talking about other than yn from illit tf ✌️😭

I also see him with someone from a similar khh background as him, I mean wouldn't it be cool if you met him on 'rap:public' or 'show me the money'?

when lngshot and illit had a joint interview on music bank (because both of your comebacks were suspiciously close together...), woojin kept bumping his shoulder everytime you said something which would lead Ryul to smile SO WIDE AND LOOK AT THE GROUND...

he's also constantly referring to you in his lyrics like it's PAINFULLY obviously he's written them about you, but he'd never dare release the songs officially

he probably reads fanfiction about you two let's be real

JUNG WOOJIN

your relationship with woojin is... complicated and therefore so are your public interactions

on one hand, all his love songs are about you but on the other, you aren't even together yet! It's always been on and off with him but you can't seem to let him go... (I CAN NEVER LET U GO WOAH WOAH) (probably wrote that for you aswell)

i see him with someone from babymonster, or any group with a girl crush concept and a few months older

he always looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon in the sky, the boy is mesmerized everytime to the point where his face is used as a reaction image

HE KEEPS ACCIDENTALLY NAME DROPPING YOU IN LIVES BRO ITS SO FUNNY "hold up yn just texted me-" *realizes* *proceeds to cover it up with a cough and an embarrassed smile*

once you guys become mature and get together (we've been waiting for this hello) he'd be very loud and open about the relationship, jay would always tease him saying stuff like "did THAT person like the new album?" to embarrass him 😭😭

LIM LOUIS

for louis... I feel like yall would be crushing on each other HARD and everyone just assumed you're dating

he is SUPER obvious which was probably the reason why no one was surprised when the company came out with the announcement of confirming the relationship

he would def be into someone from morevision, maybe someone from the upcoming girl group

hes got ALL his hyungs and jay stressing abt the relationship and how to set you guys up together without making it obvious (spoiler: they shouldn't play cupid, EVER)

he's so SO cute, watching every interaction you've ever had and giggling over how the fans are calling him a 'gentleman' and drifting towards you whenever the groups collab in a video

he tries to act cool infront of others but absolutely melts when it comes to you, a stuttering, giggly mess

' he lets you wake him up whenever you want.

"hey woojin," you say to the boy in-front of you, watching him step aside to let you in the dorm.

"hey noona, you look nice!" he says with his typical enthusiasm, wide grin plastered on his face.

"aweh, thank youu!" you stretch out the word and smile back at him as you kick your shoes off to the side, getting compliments from woojin was a form of confidence boost to you after all. "where's ryul?"

you look around the quite dorm, they can't all be sleeping till now.

"he's sleeping in his room, good luck with that noona." he says with a sympathetic smile, making your brows come together in confusion.

"huh? what do you mean?" you tilt your head slightly.

"ryul hyung sleeps like a rock, no one knows how to wake him up." he shrugs as he says and now you're even more confused, hes not that hard to wake up.

'right' you mutter under your breath and bid the younger boy goodbye, bee-lining to his room that you became way too familiar with now.

slowly turning the knob and making your way inside, the room is pitch black but you reach for the lamp switch with practiced ease, turning it on and placing your bag and the rest of your belongings somewhere on his desk, then gently sitting down next to your boyfriend.

you admire how peaceful he looks, eyelashes resting on his cheeks, smooth skin and relaxed eyebrows, you almost feel bad having to wake him up.

your hands come up to his face, softly cradling his jaw in your palm and whispering his name. then you watch him slowly stir, a grunt making its way out of him before he opens his eyes.

that wasn't so hard…?

"hey, baby," his voice hoarse as he calls out, tilting his head to the side to place a peck onto the palm of your hand.

"hi, handsome." you smile at him, leaning down to quickly peck his lips, not expecting him to hold both your arms and manhandling you into laying next to him on the other side of the bed, you yelp and he starts laughing.

"oh, my god, ryul don't do that!" you smacked his shoulder after finally catching your breath, he laughs even harder at that, then simply pecks your cheek and gets up to start his day.

"woojin said you're a heavy sleeper. but you wake up really easily all the time with me though?" you questioned as you saw him head to the bathroom, following him and standing in the doorway.

"i am a heavy sleeper though, i don't know how i wake up so quickly with you." he says, then starts brushing his teeth.

a smile creeps up your face at the declaration, "oh, my god, you loveee me." you tease him and chuckle when he gives you a look.

your little moment was cut short when the door to ryuls room was slammed open with a force way bigger than necessary.

your head snaps to the door and you both see ohyul standing there with woojin right behind him, and all of you stare at each other in confusion.

"how is he awake?" ohyul asks after a beat of silence.

you burst out laughing and stare back at ryul, ready to tease him some more.

"you really do love me, wow." he groans and goes to push the two prying boys out of the room, muttering curses under his breath.

' lets you in the studio when he's working whenever you want.

your phone lights up with a face time call from your boyfriend at an almost ungodly hour, and you know exactly what to expect.

you throw yourself on the bed then slide your fingers over the pickup button, instantly smiling once his face comes in view.

he throws his arms behind his head, leaning his back onto the chair and relaxing into it.

"hey, pretty," his voice rings through your room. your smile widens at that.

"hi!" your eyes roam over his surroundings, confirming your suspicions, "ryul, are you still at the studio?" you frown and he can only shrug in response.

"yeah, wanted to ask if you can come over," he smiles sheepishly at you. "i could just ask my manager to pick you up" he finishes off, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

you think about it for a bit, it's not like you had much to do tonight, or tomorrow for that matter, so who were you to pass on watching your boyfriend work.

you roll your eyes in feign annoyance, "fine, but you're dropping me off."

"now why would i drop you off when you can just stay the night."

what a greedy thing he is.

when you arrive to the studio and push the door open, he greets you with a hug too tight, burying his face in your neck and inhaling like he hasn't seen you in months, you set on the couch behind him, watching him click on his keyboard relentlessly and scribbling things down every now and then.

somehow through the night you shifted from your seated position on the couch to curling up side ways on his lap, and have him show you everything he worked on that night.

and somewhere along these many recently saved files there was an audio file of you two talking and laughing, ending with him whispering the words 'i love you' and your giggles.

this one isn't gonna make it though.

' lets you borrow his clothes all the time

his room was beginning to look like a mess, all because he just couldn't find that one blue beanie with gemstones on it, he's sure he didn't lose it somewhere outside the dorm, so where the hell is it.

his phone rings from somewhere under the pile of accessories on his bed, he rummages for it before answering.

"hello?" he speaks quickly, phone pressed to his ear while looking at the mess of a room, if he takes much more time, jay for sure is gonna be on his ass for it.

"hey, baby," you reply from the other end of the line, and he sighs loudly once he hears your voice, shoulders dropping down "whats wrong, you sound annoyed?"

"i can't find that one beanie, the blue one with gemstones shaped as a star? have you seen it recently?" he asks as he drops himself on the only empty part of the bed.

"wait, turn on face time really quick," you replied with an awfully cheery voice, considering his very sad one.

he turns on face time and sees you setting down on your desk chair, your arm reaching for something behind the phone.

you then come into view and he watches you slip on the earlier mentioned beanie, smiling at him after you finally put it on, and he just gives you his default deadpan face.

"since when do you have that." he asks with a calm voice, and you just shrug at him. his voice sounds more frustrated after that.

"look at my room!" he flips the camera around to show you the view he was in, "it wouldn't have looked like that if i just knew you had it." he deflates and flips the camera back to him.

you just cant help but laugh loudly at his state, blurting out apologies that didn't seem that sincere to him at the moment.

"I'm sorry, i saw it two days ago and i just couldn't help but take it," you explained while laughing, then looking at your reflection on the phone and fixing your appearance.

"don't i look cute though?"

"yeah, very cute actually. i want you to keep it." he says, a lovesick smile replacing the frown that was etched on his face.

★ YEON SIEUN! ──── 연시은

• You're tangled in the sheets of his bed, the late-night quiet broken only by your shared breaths and the faint hum of the city outside.

• Sieun has always been deliberate in bed, his touches calculated yet tender, mapping your body like a puzzle he’s determined to solve. Tonight, he's between your legs, his lean frame hovering as he works two fingers inside your pussy, curling them with precision against that spot that makes your toes curl.

• His thumb circles your clit in steady rhythms, his eyes locked on your face, analyzing every gasp, every twitch, to gauge what pushes you closer to the edge. "Tell me how it feels," he murmurs, voice low and even, but there's a huskiness to it that betrays his own arousal.

• His cock presses hard against your thigh, but he ignores it, focused entirely on you. You've been together long enough that he knows your body well, but this intensity feels new—his free hand pins your hip gently, holding you steady as the pressure builds, a strange, overwhelming fullness coiling in your core.

• You whimper, arching up, your hands fisting the sheets. "Sieun, it's... too much," you gasp, but he doesn't stop, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, his gaze sharpening with curiosity and desire.

• The sensation crests suddenly, shattering through you like a wave you can't control—your pussy clenches around his fingers, and then you're squirting, clear fluid gushing out in hot spurts that soak his hand, the sheets, even splashing against his wrist.

• Sieun stills for a split second, his eyes widening in quiet fascination, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he watches intently as your body shudders through the orgasm, the liquid pulsing out with each aftershock.

• "That's... Wow," he says softly, almost to himself, withdrawing his fingers slowly to inspect the wetness glistening on them. There's no shock, no disgust—just analytical awe, like he's discovered something profound about you.

• He leans down immediately, pressing a kiss to your trembling thigh, his lips trailing up to your soaked folds. "Did that feel good?" he asks, voice gentle now, as he laps at the mess with careful strokes of his tongue, cleaning you while soothing the sensitivity.

• You nod, flushed and spent, and he shifts up to hold you, his body warm against yours. "We'll explore this more," he promises, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his mind already turning with ways to make it happen again, turning your first squirt into a shared secret of pleasure.

★ AHN SUHO! ──── 안수호

• The light in Suho's apartment is dimly lit, tension from your date earlier still clinging to the both of you as he backs you against the padded wall, his strong hands gripping your hips. Suho's always been direct in your relationship—protective, intense, with a raw physicality that makes every encounter feel like a claim.

• Tonight, he's on his knees before you, his broad shoulders parting your thighs as he buries his face in your pussy, tongue lapping hungrily at your clit while his fingers pump inside you, thick and unyielding.

• "You taste so fucking good," he growls against your folds, the vibration sending jolts through you. His free hand squeezes your ass, pulling you closer to his mouth, and you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging as the pleasure builds fast and fierce. Suho doesn't hold back; his fingers crook roughly, hitting that deep spot over and over, his suction on your clit relentless.

• Your legs shake, a cry escaping as the pressure swells unbearably—it's like nothing before, a tidal wave crashing inside you.

• "Suho, wait—" you start, but it's too late; your pussy spasms, and you squirt, the release forceful, spraying across his face, dripping down his chin and onto his chest. He pulls back slightly, blinking through the wetness, his eyes dark with surprise and unfiltered lust.

• A grin splits his face, feral and proud, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Holy shit, baby, you just... that was hot as hell," he says, voice rough with awe, not a trace of hesitation.

• He dives back in without pause, licking up the evidence of your squirt like it's the best reward, his tongue delving into your pulsing entrance to taste every drop.

• Rising to his feet, he scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you to the nearby bench where he lays you down, stripping off his soaked shirt.

• His cock is rock-hard, throbbing as he positions himself, sliding into your still-quivering pussy with one smooth thrust.

• "Gonna make you do that again around my dick," he promises, pounding into you steadily, his hands roaming your body possessively.

★ OH BEOMSEOK! ──── 오범석

• The air is thick with nervous anticipation—his touches have always been tentative at first, a mix of his inherent kindness and underlying insecurity, but once he's assured you're into it, he blooms with quiet confidence.

• You're on your back, legs spread as he hovers over you, his fingers—slender but skilled—sliding in and out of your pussy, scissoring gently while his mouth works your nipples, sucking with increasing fervor.

• "Is this okay? Does it feel good?" he asks breathlessly, glancing up at you with those wide, earnest eyes, his free hand stroking your thigh reassuringly. You've encouraged him tonight, whispering how much you want him to push harder, and he does, adding a third finger, thrusting deeper, his thumb pressing firmly on your clit in clumsy but effective circles.

• The build-up sneaks up on you, a fluttering warmth that turns insistent, your hips bucking involuntarily.

• "Beomseok, I—oh god" you moan, and then it happens: your body tenses, pussy clenching wildly as you squirt, the fluid arcing out to wet his hand, his arm, soaking the bed beneath you. He freezes, eyes going wide in shock, a flush creeping up his neck.

• But the surprise melts into wonder, his face lighting up with a shy, delighted smile. "Whoa... you... that was because of me?" he whispers, voice laced with awe and a hint of disbelief, as if he's just been given the greatest compliment.

• He doesn't pull away; instead, he strokes your sides soothingly, watching the last tremors fade. "That was amazing. You're amazing."

• Gently, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste you curiously, his cheeks burning. Then he's kissing you deeply, sharing the flavor, before sliding down to clean you with soft laps of his tongue, mindful of your sensitivity.

• His cock aches against your leg, but he waits until you're ready, entering you slowly, his movements tender as he chases his own release while whispering how beautiful you looked.

★ PARK HUMIN! ──── 박후민

• He's got you bent over the edge of the bed, ass up, his thick fingers buried deep in your pussy from behind, pumping hard and fast while his other hand smacks your cheek lightly, the sting heightening every sensation.

• "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he grumbles, voice gravelly, leaning over to bite at your shoulder as his fingers curl viciously inside you, targeting that spot without mercy.

• You cry out, the pressure exploding without warning—your pussy gushes, squirting in powerful jets that drench his hand, splatter across the floor, and even hit his jeans.

• He laughs, a dark, triumphant sound, not stopping as the liquid soaks everything. "What the fuck? Look at you, making a mess for me baby," he taunts, but there's heat in his tone, approval lacing the words.

• Pulling his fingers free, he smears the wetness over your ass, then shoves his pants down, slamming his cock into you in one thrust, the slickness making it easy despite your tightness.

• "Gonna fuck this squirt right out of you," he growls, pounding relentlessly, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, chasing the way your walls flutter around him.

• He doesn't let up until you're both spent, his cum mixing with your release inside you. Collapsing beside you, Baku pulls you against his chest roughly, his breathing heavy.

• "To be honest I didn't expect you to do that, but damn... It's definitely not the last time," he mutters, a rare softness in his eyes as he kisses your forehead, his possessiveness wrapping around you like a blanket.

★ GO HYUNTAK! ──── 고현탁

• Hyuntak's playfulness turns everything into a game, even in bed—his cocky grin as he pins you to the mattress in his cluttered room, surrounded by posters of fighters and scattered clothes.

• He's teasing you tonight, fingers dancing along your pussy lips before plunging in, three at once to stretch you, his mouth hovering over your clit, blowing hot breaths before sucking hard.

• "Bet I can make you scream louder than last time," he challenges, winking up at you, his thrusts playful but insistent, twisting his wrist to hit every angle.

• You laugh breathlessly at first, but it shifts to moans as the coil tightens, unfamiliar and intense.

• When you squirt, it's messy and sudden, spraying over his face and chest in arcs that make him sputter and pull back, eyes comically wide. Then he bursts out laughing, wiping his eyes.

• "Holy fuck, you just hosed me down! That's new—and kinda badass," he says, grinning like he won a prize, no judgment, just delighted surprise.

• He doesn't miss a beat, licking his lips with exaggerated flair before diving back in, slurping noisily at your gushing pussy. "Tastes like victory," he jokes, fingers still working you through the aftershocks until you're limp.

• Sliding up, he enters you with a playful thrust, his hips snapping in a rhythm that's fun and fervent, drawing out more whimpers.

• Post-climax, Hyuntak flops beside you, pulling you into a loose hug, still chuckling. "Gotta do that again—maybe aim for the ceiling next time." His teasing fades into genuine affection as he strokes your hair, making sure you're okay, his lighthearted nature turning the surprise into a shared adventure.

★ GEUM SEONGJE! ──── 금성제

• Seongje's apartment is a reflection of his inner self—minimalist furniture, bookshelves stuffed with unorganized books and trinkets, the air carrying a faint scent of smoke and cologne.

• You're on all fours on his crisp sheets, the city lights filtering through half-drawn blinds as he kneels behind you, his long fingers easing into your pussy with measured strokes, each one deliberate, building layers of sensation like stacking moves in a calculated plan.

• "Breathe with me," he instructs softly, his voice a steady anchor amid your rising whimpers, one hand splayed on your lower back to guide your arch while the other works deeper, scissoring and curling to explore every inch.

• He's patient, observing your reactions—the way your muscles tense, the hitch in your breath—adjusting his rhythm accordingly.

• His thumb joins the fray, circling your clit with firm, consistent pressure, turning the intimacy into a symphony he conducts flawlessly.

• The tension mounts gradually, a strategic escalation that leaves you teetering on the brink, your body humming with anticipation. Seongje senses the shift, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple in time with his thrusts.

• "Let go for me," he murmurs, leaning forward to press kisses along your spine, his composure unwavering even as his own arousal strains against his pants.

• When the dam breaks, it's profound—your pussy pulses violently, squirting in rhythmic waves that soak his hand, trickle down your thighs, and darken the fabric beneath you.

• He doesn't falter; instead, he watches with quiet fascination, a subtle arch of his brow the only sign of surprise as the fluid continues to flow.

• He laughs breathlessly under his breath, withdrawing his fingers slowly to trace the glistening trails on your skin. "You're perfect for me baby"

★ NA BAEKJIN! ──── 나백진

• You're perched on his lap on the wide couch, facing him, his powerful hands guiding your hips as he sinks two thick fingers into your pussy, the stretch immediate and demanding, his thumb pressing hard against your clit from the start.

• "Sit still and take it," he orders, voice a gravelly command that sends shivers through you, his piercing eyes holding yours captive as he thrusts upward with unyielding force, each movement designed to dismantle your control.

• His free arm bands around your waist, pulling you closer, his breath hot on your neck as he nips at your skin, marking you subtly. The intensity is overwhelming, his fingers crooking to assault that deep spot relentlessly, building a fire that consumes every rational thought.

• You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as the pressure surges, a storm he orchestrates without mercy. "Baekjin, I—" you gasp, but he silences you with a fierce kiss, swallowing your cries as your body betrays you spectacularly.

• Your pussy convulses, squirting in forceful jets that flood his hand, soak his pants, and puddle on the leather beneath, the release raw and unfiltered under his gaze.

• His eyes flash with dark triumph, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he holds you pinned through the torrent, fingers never ceasing their assault to milk every last drop.

• "Good girl" he mutters, voice edged with satisfaction, withdrawing only when you're shuddering in his grasp. He lifts his hand, inspecting the sheen before bringing his fingers to your lips, commanding you to taste yourself. "All mine."

★ KANG WOOYOUNG! ──── 강우영

• You're pressed against the cool wall of his bedroom, his solid frame caging you as he lifts one of your legs, fingers sliding into your pussy with silent precision, the pads grazing your walls expertly from the outset.

• No preamble, just his heated stare boring into yours, urging you to feel every deliberate curl and thrust, his thumb joining to rub your clit in tight, insistent circles that build heat methodically.

• His free hand braces beside your head, muscles flexing, the only sounds your shared breaths and the slick slide of his hand.

• Wooyoung's quiet draws you in, making the intimacy feel profoundly personal, his body heat enveloping you as he angles deeper, hitting that elusive spot with unerring accuracy.

• The climax approaches stealthily, a silent explosion waiting to erupt, your body tensing against his as whimpers escape unbidden.

• He senses it, leaning in to capture your lips in a deep, consuming kiss, muffling your cries as you squirt— the fluid gushing down his arm, pooling at your feet, a warm cascade that marks the wall faintly.

• His eyes widen fractionally in the dim light, surprise flickering before it settles into a profound, wordless pride.

• He doesn't withdraw immediately; instead, his fingers slow to gentle strokes, guiding you through the tremors, his gaze softening with quiet awe. "You're doing that at least two more times before we go to sleep,"

You couldn’t believe that you and Sieun have been dating for a couple of months now. You still remember the first time you saw him. It was a year ago, at a local museum. Your friends were getting hit on by a guy in a peasant costume, but your eyes were focused on the good-looking guy in the king’s outfit, and you became obsessed with knowing who he was.

Your friends didn’t see the vision, but you certainly did. You started bumping into him whenever his friend, Baku, tried to flirt with your schoolmates. It took a while for Sieun to befriend you, let alone reciprocate your feelings, especially during the whole mess with the Union, but eventually he confessed to you, and you have been dating ever since.

“What are you so happy about, ___?” Your best friend, Yumi, asks you when she catches up to you. She had been held back by the homeroom teacher earlier.

You show her your phone. “Look! Sieun bought me matcha!”

However, she doesn’t show the reaction you expected. Instead, she scrunches her nose before scoffing quietly, “Ew, desperate much?”

Your smile falters. “Desperate? What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” She seems like she wants to change the subject, but you’re firm. Yumi sighs heavily, “Don’t you think Sieun tries too hard?”

“What’s so bad about that?” You love how Sieun pays attention to every detail. He knows your favourite foods just by observing, and he extrapolates what you would like to try next. “That just means he loves me.”

“Yeah, but he’s plain as hell!” She exclaims, not noticing your icy stare as your eyes turn cold. “If he’s not with you, he’s studying! He doesn’t even go out to clubs or anything like that! Ever since you started dating him, you’ve gotten boring.”

You roll your eyes. You admit you had a past before Sieun, one involved with getting wasted every weekend and chasing that high. Just something to fill the void in yourself after your father left you and your mom.

“Do you think I changed just because of Sieun? Do you really think so little of me?” You challenge her. “Yumi, I stopped because I realised just how much of a loser I was. Don’t start blaming me because you insist on staying at rock-bottom!”

“What did you say!” She yells back. “Yah, at least I don’t have some twink loser for a boyfriend!”

“At least my boyfriend didn’t cheat on me multiple times!”

She roars, “We’re in an open relationship!”

“Open relationship, my ass!” You guffaw. “He sleeps around with other girls because he can’t commit to you, you delusional bitch!”

Yumi shrieks before pulling on your hair, but you fight back, pulling her hair and scratching her face.

“You fucking bitch! Let go!”

“You attacked me first!”

Suddenly, you hear Sieun’s voice.

“Let her go!” He demands, roughly grabbing Yumi’s hands, breaking her grip on your hair.

“Fuck, her hands are still in my hair!” 

“What?” Sieun looks down, realising you still hadn’t let go of Yumi. He taps your shoulder. “Yah, ___, let go.”

However, your hands don’t move an inch. “Not until she apologises.”

“I don’t care about that. She’s of no importance to me.” Yumi’s jaw drops at his casual statement.

“I care.” You glare at her. “Anyone who disrespects my boyfriend, someone I love, is no friend of mine.”

Your grip tightens, proving your point. Yumi tries to break away before she finally relents. “Fucking fine! I’m sorry, okay!”

You let go of her, and she huffs before spitting out. “You and your nerd boyfriend can go be losers together! Don’t expect to get invited to all the hot parties, ___!”

She stomps away, but you call out to her. “As if I want to! Also, your boyfriend’s pencil dick can’t compare to the snake in Sieun’s pants- UMPH!”

Sieun’s face is a bright red as he covers your mouth, muffling your voice. “Stop it. You made your point.”

You shove his hand away. “The nerve of her! How could she just insult you when you’ve always been respectful to her? I don’t know how we even became friends in the first place!”

“She’s just jealous of you.” He fixes your headband for you, brushing back the strands that had gotten loose. Sieun then holds your hand, interlocking your fingers together. “Come on, let’s go back to my place.”

“Huh?” You blink in confusion. “I thought we were going to a study cafe.”

“We can just study in my room. Besides,” the tips of his ears turn red before he whispers in a low and quiet tone into your ear. “I need to reward you first.”

You feel goosebumps erupting all over your skin, knowing that Sieun’s going to eat you out the moment you step into his room. You grin, leading him into a sprint. “Let’s go, Sieun-ah!”

He walked towards you, locking you in between his body and his room mate's bedroom door.

"Tell me angel, was my friend better or was it me?" Your chest was heaving, inner thighs tightening together as your eyes carelessly wandered to his lips, your inner demon just wanting them back onto yours and Seungcheol did exactly that.

It wasn't sweet. It was rough, needy and eagerly full of lust. His tongue entering your mouth to swipe the gum and somehow place it in his own mouth. He wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you in as your skimpy little club skirt was now grinding on his running shorts, as your hands ravaged his fit body. The grip on your ass was your signal to jump as he carried you more into their apartment, and to their kitchen. Seungcheol laid you down on their kitchen counter, making you shudder at the coldness but his body being on top of you as you both still heavily made out kept you warm. His hands unzipping the corset top from the front leaving your breasts bare for him as his lips move from your mouth to your tits.

"So you always go to clubs without a bra on?" he teased. You could only whimper as his fingers played with your nipples licking a stripe in between your breasts to then use his huge hands to basically smoosh your tits over his face to motorboat you. Hearing his groans in between your chest, you can't help but giggle.

"What's so funny?" He asks, biting your tit as he removes his face from your chest.

"You have a thing for motor boating?" You asked, recalling him doing the same thing as he fucked you last time.

"Well, it's because these tits are perfect, just as much as this pussy is." Seungcheol explains as one of his hands creeps under your skirt and cups your pussy tightly. It made your back arch and a loud moan escape, by quick reaction you covered your mouth with your hand as you look to the side where Mingyu's door is in slight fear that you were going to get caught.

Seungcheol saw this and a low growl escape, he then pulled your skirt and underwear down in one swift motion.

"I've been thinking about how fucking good you taste all fucking week, jerked off so many fucking times thinking about your pussy." He admitted. Seungcheol knelt down, holding your wrists to pin your arms to the sides of your body as his also laid his biceps across your thighs to restrict your movement. He blew air onto your pussy and grinned seeing you squirm.

"Want you to be loud baby, wake him up to a good surprise yeah? Call me daddy like you did last time." Before you could object, Seungcheol spat the gum in his mouth to the side so he could dive in head first. He wasn't lying about the fact he wanted this, needed this.

"Oh my god!" you yelled, lifting your head up to see his eyes already watching your every reaction and that only made things hotter.

What he didn't know was you thought about his mouth all fucking week too, though your one night stand rule was to dip without any other contact. A part of you wished that you did get Seungcheol's contact, you hadn't had anyone eat you out as good as he did. Which is one of the reasons why you even went out last night to try to forget the need for Seungcheol's mouth, is it coincidence or pure fucking luck for your distraction to be his fucking room mate of all people.

Seungcheol ate you out so good that it was loud and wet, the slurps felt like it was bouncing off the walls and he was devouring like a thirst deprived man receiving his drink. His tongue was fucking magic, going from flicking your bud to entering you and drawing figure 8s on your pussy. To just full on mouth on clit.

"Oh daddy I'm so close!" you moaned out, as soon as you did that you could feel the grin. He then let go of your hands to use one of his thumbs to rub circles on your nub and used the other to vastly thrust two fingers in you. With his tongue still working his magic and the motion of his fingers, you were going crazy, basically now humping his face. He loved the desperation of your movements that he stopped using his hands, including fingering you to wrap both his arms around your thighs to pull you even more closer to his face. Wanting you to cum on his mouth and his desperate mouth only.

It was giving you deja vu the last time you two fucked and how you felt you were suffocating him but he didn't care and things have clearly not changed. Your back arched as the pit of your stomach only felt tighter, you moved your head to the side for only a split second and paused with your blurry vision seeing Mingyu now wide awake in the hallway.

But yet, your shock only lasted for a split second and his presence, knowing he was watching only made you get to your release sooner. Your eyes travelled downwards to see Mingyu's hard cock against his grey sweatpants and that was it, your hand reached into Cheol's hair as you released all over his mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to control it with how good and sweet the release felt.

You shrieked when you felt your pussy get slapped, a signal to open your eyes and quickly diverting your head back to Seungcheol who stood proudly. The look in his eyes full of ego as he tasted what was left of your cum on his lips, his eyes never leaving your face and reading you were not a bit uncomfortable at the surprise third guest.

"Really Cheol?" You hear from Mingyu.

"Don't be whining Mingyu, technically I had her first." Cheol said with a smirk.

You see Mingyu's face turn into realisation. The moans that spilled out of your mouth last night that sounded like heaven in his ears to the point it naturally made his hips thrust faster sounded oh so familiar because he jerked off (and came) to the same moans only a week before.

"But..." Seungcheol coughs, now leaning onto the counter to face Mingyu (but where your legs were to not cover your view.)

Cheol's hand reached to cup your breast, his two fingers rubbing your nipple so you didn't feel neglected. It was like to tell you, without words that he was nowhere near done with you despite not looking directly at you.

"I think she likes this predicament right now, hm?" His eyes, finally now looking at you as he pinches your nipple making your body jerk by his touch. The eye contact between you and Seungcheol heavy, like he needed to read your facial expressions and how you were feeling.

"Does this little slut like knowing that you have two hard cocks wanting you right now?" You could only whimper at the dirty talk, your pussy still wet and brain mush from how hard he ate you out. Seungcheol's hand moved from your breast to your chin, cupping your face.

"Use your words darling, say you want us both right here at the same time and we're all yours." Seungcheol explained.

You nodded fast, in the back of your brain knowing how utterly pathetic you must look but you didn't care.

"Yes! Yes! I want both of your big cocks right now, please daddy." you begged to Seungcheol, then looking at Mingyu now standing closer to the both of you. You address him. "Please sir."

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊

And here you were. On all fours in Seungcheol's king size bed with his mirror closet giving you a view of how you looked when your eyes adverted to the side. You looked like a mess and it was a view all three of you wanted planted in your brains forever.

Mingyu, standing on one side with his huge cock in your mouth had you using one arm to steady yourself and the other to play with his balls. His hands were in your hair to balance himself as he harshly thrusted into your mouth.

Seungcheol, standing on the other side has his large cock slamming in and out of your pussy from behind. One hand gripped your hip tightly throughout the whole fucking while the other hand would go from gripping your other hip to thrust in you roughly to slapping your ass just when he felt like it. It was loud and messy, tears ran down your face at the pleasure.

Though Mingyu was thrusting in your mouth, you made sure to swirl your tongue to give him even more pleasure. Your eyes couldn't leave the sight above you, despite it being so blurry from the tears in your eyes. Mingyu was so fucking pretty. The way his eyes scrunched but forced himself to stare at you with his mouth agape and the grip on your hair tightening to signal when your mouth did a really fucking good job.

Mingyu was fighting a war with himself. He was shutting his eyes because the pleasure was getting to him but god, did he also want to see your pretty, teary eyed face that included seeing your eyes roll back from the pleasure Seungcheol was giving you.

For Seungcheol, he loved every minute of this. He also thought Mingyu was endearing when he was getting his cock sucked, of course this wasn't their first time sharing.

With your second orgasm approaching, you felt yourself getting closer to your release before Seungcheol was even done. You wanted to release Mingyu's cock to give a warning of your orgasm but his grip on your head was so tight. You didn't have to say anything though because Seungcheol knew you were close from how much your pussy was tightly gripping his cock.

He moved both his hands back to your hips, thrusting faster and harder that his balls slapping against your ass echoed throughout the bedroom.

"I know you're close baby, give it to me, coat my cock with your cum so I can paint you white." Cheol chanted, it only made your eyes roll and Mingyu grin at the sight once again.

"Fuck she love this." Mingyu moaned out, his hand going from your hair to your face and with both hands using his thumbs to stroke your hollowed out cheeks.

"Does princess like getting creampied? Want me to cum in your next?" Mingyu questions, you nod fast in his hands.

With Cheol's brutal pace and a grip on your hips that will leave bruises, you cum hard. Your arms losing the balance of keeping you upright making your mouth leave Mingyu's cock and though he hissed at the cold air. He rather cum in your pretty pussy than your mouth anyways.

You moaned and cried onto the bed, your body spasming at the pleasure. But Cheol didn't give up despite the new position. Still thrusting into your pussy vastly as your walls clutched onto his cock, you felt so fucking wet and tight that he couldn't help himself and came right after you. In you. The feeling of his cum spurting into your gummy walls only made your body yelp more, your hands gripping onto the sheets tightly.

"Thank you daddy! Thank you!' You screamed into the bed. Making more spurts of cum from Cheol come out.

Mingyu could have came at the sight of both of you orgasming knowing he was next.

You couldn't dare lift your head up, feeling slightly humiliated and knowing the makeup from last night probably looked even more messy as your chest was heaving. Pussy twitching. But that didn't last long as you felt yourself get flipped. Your back now laying on the bed as the two men switched places without you realising, you steadying your own breath was all you heard and focused on.

Mingyu smiling widely at your shock as he softly stroked your outer thighs.

"Ready to take me princess?" He asked. With your need to be their good girl, you nodded.

"Words" Mingyu sternly said.

"Yes sir, nee-" before you could finish your sentence about needing his cock. A large shriek fell out your lips as he pulls your body closer to the edge of the bed by your legs; to wrap them around his waist.

"Sorry for surprising you baby, but I'm not sorry for this." Mingyu utters and before you could question what he meant.

He thrusted his huge cock all in, making you loudly scream. The stretch hurt but my god was it delicious. Seungcheol was huge in the sense of his length, while Mingyu was huge from his girth. Both easily stretching you in different and addictive ways.

"T-Thought Seungcheol's cock prepped you already but you're still so fucking tight. Fuck ... babe." Mingyu stutters, chants, breathless.

You don't miss the weight of the bed dip as Seungcheol now sits beside you.

You reach your hand out to stroke Seungcheol's semi-hard cock to become hard again, but he hisses and smacks your hand away.

"Did I say you could touch?" He tells off, you whimper in response.

Instead of being closer to you, he moves away until his head leans against the bed's headboard. Legs criss crossed as he began to stroke his own cock while watching you get fucked. Your eyes never leaving each other as he does this, he smiles at your pout, finding you cute as your brain whines on how this isn't fair.

Before you could further complain, Mingyu readjusts his hips that he finds the spot you needed. It makes you gasp, your attention diverting back to him as he himself wears a similar pout to you.

"Pay attention to me too baby" he complains.

"I-I'm sorry sir! You fuck me so good sir, p-please don't stop" you moan out and praise. Back arching, eyes shutting as your delicious tits are bouncing from the thrusts, both Mingyu and Seungcheol can't stop watching your chest as one strokes his cock faster while the other penetrates you faster.

You can't control it any longer, your orgasm approaching and your mouth spewing every noise your throat can make. Mingyu fucking you so good, you don't even register how tight he's holding you or how Seungcheol's moaning with you. Unable to say any words, with a scream you come once again. Mingyu nearly topples over with how your pussy grips his cock while you orgasm, knowing why Seungcheol nearly lost himself as well.

With Mingyu's hard cock still plugged into you, not moving to let you have a breather both your eyes go to Seungcheol whose cum is splattered all over his stomach. You feel drool leave your mouth and both of them snicker seeing this.

An idea sparks in Mingyu's head, he takes his cock out of your warm pussy and before you whine of the emptiness he plunges two fingers in you.

"Get on all fours baby and lick daddy's cum off" Mingyu orders, both you and Seungcheol are surprised to hear him take control for the first time throughout this ordeal.

It makes you eagerly listen and as you move, reposition yourself. Mingyu's fingers never leave you. Instead he joins kneeling on the bed behind you, once you face Seungcheol you attempt to lower your head but Mingyu grabs your hair to lift your head up. You yelp in surprise but love the delicious burn like you did when you were sucking his cock.

"Film it on the bedside table Cheol" Mingyu orders, nodding to the phone on the same table and Seungcheol smiles. You feel your pussy flutter and cheeks blush at the same time,

"Hm, I was going to ask if that's okay angel but seems like it is. Naughty girl" Mingyu announces as he kisses your back softly.

When you hear the noise of the phone camera recording, you see it on the bedside table on selfie mode perfectly capturing all three of you.

"Lick baby" Mingyu orders again and lets go of your hair, just for it to be held in a makeshift ponytail by Seungcheol. You lower your head and lick a stripe of his load on Cheol's stomach, the salty and sticky liquid on your tongue making you hum as Seungcheol watches your every move of continuously licking his body. Hissing as you casually try to take his semi-hard cock's tip after licking his cum up. His cock was sensitive but if you went to suck him off, he wouldn't object.

At the same time, Mingyu unplugs his fingers to thrust his cock back into you. The motion making your lips that were around Cheol's tip now take his cock fully and deeper into your mouth.

"Oh shit" Cheol moans out, his cock now fully hard.

You wish this overwhelming pleasure of sucking Cheol's cock and Mingyu's fast thrusts mixed with your wet and full of cum pussy would never end. You bob your mouth up and down Cheol's shaft, tongue feeling his veins.

Seungcheol knew he wasn't going to last long, his free hand not in your hair gripping the pillow beside him as he thrusted into your mouth. Now he understood Mingyu's predicament before, he couldn't describe how good you sucked cock even if he tried.

Mingyu was in the same predicament, not knowing how much longer he can hold on as your tight pussy continues to grip him from the pleasure of sucking cock and Mingyu thrusting into your pussy so deliciously.

The fact this was the fourth orgasm they were pulling out of you and so close to your third, you were close as well. But with full persistent you wanted daddy to cum first, with the one hand not steadying your position just like you did with Mingyu. You played with Cheol's balls while deep throating him. That was all it took, as his load spilled into your mouth. Despite thinking you swallowed all of it, when your mouth left his shaft. You felt liquid still around your lips and leaving your mouth like drool but the warmth and thickness of it made you realise it was his cum on your lips.

"Oh fuck" Seungcheol quietly whispered, chest still panting. He grabbed the phone off the bedside table to film your face close up, your fucked out face was both beautiful and a fucking mess.

"F-Fuck I'm close" Mingyu panted behind you, using one of his hands to start rubbing your clit to get you closer. You bite your lip, tasting the cum. Seungcheol still filming every bit of this.

"Mingyu look at the phone" Seungcheol points out, moving it to the side a bit to still capture your makeup ruined face while letting Mingyu have his view.

The sight of your pleasured out face was all it took for Mingyu, cumming in your pussy with a scream from his lips. The sensation making your own pussy spasm and cum for the fourth time, both of them had massive loads that felt like they were filling your cunt to the brim. Just like before, your arms give up on you. Head plopping onto Seungcheol's thighs as he softly strokes your hair.

Mingyu grabs the phone from Seungcheol with shaky hands, now filming from the side right next to where his cock and your pussy were as your hips were still upright. Finally unplugging his cock, you and Seungcheol watch from the phone as Mingyu watches with his own eyes how the mix of all three of your cums trickle down your thighs, drops falling onto the bedsheets.

All three of you are sweaty and tired beyond belief, you feel your own eyes drooping to a shut on Cheol's thigh not even getting to see who was cleaning the sticky mess on your legs with a towel. All you heard and felt before your slumber was a kiss on the shoulder, hair strokes and a sentence of

"Sleep baby girl, you earned it, we'll be here."

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊

“Come on, baby—”

“No, Cheol. I have to go to work, and I cannot be late again.”

“Just the tip, please—”

“Cheol.”

It’s one of those mornings when your husband, Seungcheol, can’t keep his hands off you. It started early this morning when he woke you up with kisses before your alarm went off five minutes later. Not wanting to risk being late, you slipped out of bed and ran into the shower, hoping it would stop his antics. But then you catch him watching you as you dry off, discreetly palming himself under the blanket. You feel him creep up on you as you’re bent over, rubbing your body with your favorite lotion that leaves you smelling divine. You throw him a look in the mirror, watching him gaze at you with a mix of love and lust.

“It’s not happening, sir,” you warn, turning to face him. “I can’t be late to work today.”

“Why?” He raises his brows. “Do you have an important meeting today?”

“No,” you say carefully, acutely aware that you are still naked. “I just don’t want to be late today.”

You are putting up a brave front, stepping around him and into the closet. His hand brushes against your hips on the way, and tiny jolts of excitement spread throughout your body. Despite you saying no, your body says the opposite, your insides practically screaming to let him put in said tip. It doesn't help that Seungcheol looks the sexiest in the mornings, with his sleepy look and slightly disheveled hair. You imagine your fingers running through it, tugging it tightly while you kiss his perfect lips, riding him—

“Ahem.”

Snapping out of your reverie, you glance at Seungcheol before praying your perfume and body mist. He saunters toward you, his hands caressing your hips as his lips grace your neck. Your breath hitches involuntarily, your body betraying you as it reacts to his touch. He knows what he is doing, and you want to give in, but you must stay strong and stick to the schedule.

“Seungcheol,” you softly murmur, attempting to free yourself from him gently. “Not now.”

His fingers sneak lower, flirting with your bikini line. You turn, squinting your eyes at him before successfully unwrapping his hands around you and walking away. You had to leave for your own sake, because if you stayed a minute more, he would have you bent over the bathroom counter, again.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting it,” Seungcheol’s voice carries from the closet. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

A slow smirk plays on your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the vivid imagery playing in your head. Your body tingles with excitement and lust, thinking of the last time he suggested ‘just the tip.’ You hear shuffling in the closet, and you pretend to look busy, digging for something imaginary to deter Seungcheol on his conquest. Unfortunately for you, when you turn around, Seungcheol is shirtless, twirling the matching set of bra and panties you had set out for today. He has a mischievous glint in his eye that makes you gulp. God, you are in trouble.

“Are you looking for these?” Seungcheol asks, feigning innocence.

“Possibly…” your voice trails off, squinting your eyes at him. “Not sure how you ended up with them.”

“Maybe I wanted to help you get dressed, since you don’t want to be late and all.”

You scoff, moving towards him and attempting to grab your undergarments. “I’m a big girl,” you roll your eyes. “I can dress myself.”

“I know, I know,” Seungcheol nods in agreement. “But wouldn’t it be so much quicker if you had help?”

You raise your brow at him, aware of the game he is trying to play. You watch him lower himself to his knees, lifting your leg and sliding your panties through it. His eyes are pleading, practically begging for what he wants. He licks his bottom lip at the sight of your naked center, a small sigh escaping his lips. Heat surges through you like a blue flame, your cunt undoubtedly wet and craving his tongue.

“Stop,” you murmur, locking your gaze with his. “You know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Seungheol teases, kissing your inner thigh. “Tell me.”

“Don’t be coy with me,” you say with a resigned sigh. Looking at the time displayed on your digital clock, you gently grab his chin with your fingers. “Do it before I change my mind.”

“With pleasure, baby.”

His tongue graces your folds, tasting and playing with your clit in ways that make you gasp, clutching onto his hair. He doesn’t break his contact with you, carnal lust taking over him as he hums in your pussy. Pleasure courses through your body at the littlest movements, your hips slowly riding his tongue.

Seungcheol grips your thighs tighter, and he delves deeper, slurping and moaning sounds echoing in the room. The vibrations of his lips make you twitch, gripping his hair tighter. “Fuck, Cheol,” you grit your teeth, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

“You look divine on my tongue, baby,” he murmurs, not letting up. “Give me more.”

With renewed vigor, Seungcheol slips two fingers inside of you, and you see heaven. Your pussy clenches around him, his tongue flattening against your clit as he thrusts into you relentlessly. You’re coming undone, legs shaking as his name spills from your lips like a mantra. You make the mistake of looking down, his lips and cheeks covered with your nectar, and it sends you over the edge, screaming colorful obscenities as you fall into an abyss of pleasure.

Seungcheol is earnest, lapping up everything you offer him, gripping you tighter until your legs give out, your bed being your saving grace as you fall back. He chuckles, licking his lips incessantly as your wetness is spread all over his face. Mind fuzzy from the pleasure, you lie back on the bed, your sheets giving you a soft, cool reprieve to the hot sensation spreading all over your body.

“Are you okay, love?”

You make a minimal effort to lift yourself, studying your husband as he licks his lips, completely satisfied.

“I am… a puddle,” you burst into a giggle, in disbelief. “I can’t believe I let you rope me into that.”

“I can be creative,” Seungcheol gloats, running his fingers through his hair. The bed creaks as he climbs on, towering over you and kissing you deeply. You’re in a daze, his lips and your taste on his tongue putting you in a trance. You feel strung out, overflowing with a lust that only your husband can fix, and it doesn’t help that his tip is poking at your entrance through his boxers.

“So,” he clears his throat, drawing lines across your chest. “Did I earn it?”

You throw him a look before letting out a silvery laugh. Seungcheol, ever the pleaser since you first met him, will always make sure he does a good job. “I think you managed.”

Seungcheol looks at you, surprised, amusement etched on his face. “Managed?”

“Yes. Managed,” you tease him. “You could always be better.”

You roar into laughter as Seungcheol lifts your legs, shoving down his sweats and his large cock springing free. He taps it on your clit, oversensitivity and pleasure shooting through your thighs. Your nails dug into his arm in retaliation, a fire burning your belly as you crave to be fucked.

“Just the tip?” He asks, sliding slowly into your wetness. Your fingers cling to your sheets, your eyes rolling back as his girthy cock goes in inch by inch. You shouldn’t have teased him, you know this, because now he has you where he wants you, just as he planned.

“More than the tip,” you purr, accepting the inevitable. “All of it.”

Without warning, he snaps his hips into you, fucking you without mercy. His strokes are long, deep, the kind that fill you up with joy and leave you with tears in your eyes. He pulls you closer, tasting your skin as your nails dig deeper into his back. Your walls spasm around him, loving every minute of the dick he is dropping off, for sure punishment for your teasing earlier.

“Fuck,” you rasp, feeling your peak reaching once more. “You feel so fucking good.”

You feel him grin against your neck, hitting you with a final stroke before lifting you and turning you over. He scurries to the baseboard, beckoning for him to come to him, wiggling his glistening cock. You crawl over to him happily, climbing over and sinking on him slowly, both groaning in unified satisfaction.

“Come here,” Seungcheol mutters, pulling you closer. “Give me your lips.”

His kiss is gratifying, your tongues interwining with another as you ride him, bouncing on his cock the way he likes it. Your pussy gushes as he fucks back, his fingers rubbing your clit vigorously like he owns it. Hit with a shock of pleasure that courses through your veins, you increase the pace and pull his hair, chasing your second orgasm. As if he read your mind, he pounds into you harder, taking your nipple and sucking on it fervently.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whimper, everything turning white.”Don’t stop.”

“Never, baby,” he grunts. “Give it to me.”

It comes sharp and quick, your legs shuddering and your moans throaty and wet. You cling to Seungcheol as he talks you through it, whispering songs of praise and peppering you with kisses. His thrusts become rigid, signaling his own release as he lets out a loud guttural moan, your walls still pulsating as he empties himself into you. Relishing in each other, you still, your hearts beating as one, as he caresses your back. Love can’t describe what you feel.

“Are you still going to go in?” Seungcheol asks, drawing lines along your back. “Stay home and make it a 3-day weekend.”

Chuckling in the crook of his neck, you gaze at him, kissing him softly. “This was all a part of your plan, huh? Fuck me good and leave me too tired to move?”

Seungcheol peals into laughter, caressing your cheek. “And if it was?”

You lock eyes with him, a knowing look on your face as you lift off him slowly. “Do you remember the last time you begged for ‘just the tip?’” You point at the nightstand, your finger directed at a shiny baby monitor on display next to your wedding portrait.

“So?” Seungcheol shrugs with a smug look. “We can always have another.”

You shake your head with laughter, making your escape before you give him any ideas. A baby’s cry is heard through the monitor, and your heart pangs with guilt. The sunlight shines through the blinds, casting a soft glow that promises a peaceful day. You silently laugh, your shoulders shaking heavily as it dawns on you that at the end, Seungcheol is going to get what he wants.

“Babe? I’m staying home.”

Jason stood by the front door a little longer than necessary, his helmet tucked in his arm, between his side and the crook of his elbow, and he just listened.

Until he heard it, the sound of running water from the bathroom. His entire face changed in a second. It should have been embarrassing how immediate it was. How one moment he looks like Red Hood, all tough edges, bruised knuckles, spit and anger and Gotham grime to last for days, and the very next he’s just … a boy.

A very happy one.

“Oh, thank fuck,” He whispered to himself, dropping his helmet on the couch as he passed. He was grinning before he even turned into the hall.

He appeared in the bathroom mirror behind you moments later, when you were half bent over the sink, toothbrush still in your mouth.

There he was. Hair messed up from his helmet, eyes exhausted, leather jacket half unzipped. You could tell it had been a rough night, and somewhere under his clothes bruises were already blooming. But he was looking at you like he had just walked through Heaven’s gates instead of into your slightly cluttered, too small, too expensive apartment at 1am.

“There’s my girl”

It comes out of him soft, and delighted, and terribly fond.

You barely have time to spit the toothpaste and rinse your mouth before he’s on you. Jason does not enter spaces normally when he’s this happy. He arrives in them entirely, every piece of him committing to it at once.

“Hi, baby” You laughed as his arms came around you from behind, picking you up and bringing you to the bedroom. He practically dropped you onto the bed, before plopping himself down on top of you. Heavy, warm, large. All dramatic deadweight, burying his face into your shoulder with a deep groan.

“There she is,” He mumbled, “I missed you”

“You were gone not even five hours” You replied, trying to shift yourself into a position more comfortable. But it was no use.

“It was five hours. And fourty-six minutes. And it was the worst five hours and fourty-six minutes of my life”

“You know you say that every patrol is the worst time of your life ?” You asked him

“Yeah. I do. And I mean it every time.”

He shifted, pulling his weight off you and wrapping his arms tighter around you as he spoke, like he all of a sudden developed a deep fear of somebody prying you off of him if he let go even for a second. He smelled like the city. Like smoke, and chilly air, rain damp leather, gunpowder, sweat and the faintest trace of blood.

But underneath it all, he still smelled like Jason. Jason who was home, and safe.

He pressed a kiss to the side of your jaw, then another, and another right after because he’s decided that taking a break was optional for him tonight.

You laughed, trying to push at his shoulder. He didn’t budge. “Jay”

“Nope”

“Jay.”

“Nope,” he repeated, grinning against your skin as he kissed you again, pressing a new one on every inch of skin he could reach. “Can’t hear you. I’m busy”

“Busy doing what exactly ?” You asked

“Kissin’ my girl.” He answered, as if it was obviously the most important thing in the world for him to be doing right now. The sheer amount of joy put into a single phrase made something ache sweet in your chest. Because he means it every single time he says it. My girl. Not in the sharp possessive type of way. He said it with reverence, in a Look-What-I-Get-To-Have-Way.

He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, hands coming up to cup your face, making sure your eyes stayed on him and nothing else. And there it was, that smile of his. The real one, the one where his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched up. The smile that was too big to hide, and too bright to try and play cool. But Jason had never been able to even think about acting normal when it came to loving you.

“You stayed up for me,” He said proudly

“I always stay up for you”

“I know” His grin somehow got even brighter “That’s the best part”

It was immediately followed by: “Do we have any snacks”

You laughed so hard you snorted. “You are unbelievable”

“Hey. I deserve them. I got stabbed a little”

“You did not” You gave a playful smack to his arm. You would have known the second he walked through the door if he got stabbed.

“Emotionally. Because I had to be away from you”

“That does not count as being stabbed, Jason”

“It should” He grumbled, flopping sideways again until nearly his entire body was draped over yours. Clingy in that absurd post-patrol way he allows himself to have when he makes it home. He propped himself half up on his elbow, and just stared at you. You stared back.

He started laughing first, warm, loud laughter. The kind that shook his shoulder and made him duck his head into your neck when he was catching his breath afterwards, still grinning helplessly because he had lost all control over it.

He couldn’t contain it. Not here, not with you. Outside of this apartment he could keep himself locked up so tight sometimes he feels like he might crack under all of it. But here ? With you curled up under him, the sheets freshly washed, the lights dimmed and warm, everything overflows. Affection, relief, want, joy so pure and earnest it becomes boyish.

He steals kisses between sentences, and smiles for no reason, and touches you over and over, every place he can reach.

When you brush his hair back from his forehead he melts. Eyes closing, face going soft, leaning into your hand with a little sigh that makes you laugh again.

“There he is,” You teased, softer this time “Big scary crime lord.”

“Don’t ruin my reputation” He teased back. But his reputation was clearly not as important as having his face pressed into the palm of your hand.

“You are laying across me like a large dog”

“Yes. A guard dog.”

“A lap dog” You corrected

Jason let out a dramatic gasp, head popping up from your hand before he grabbed your face and kissed you three times in rapid succession.

“That is defamation,” "A kiss “Slander,” another kiss “Character assassination” A third kiss.

You were breathless, still laughing, when he finally settled again, heavy with contentment, head tucked against your chest to listen to the sound of your heart beating.

Neither of you said anything for a while, instead Jason just listened. Breathing slowly, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against your side, still smiling.

He never really thought he’d get to this part of things. He got the dramatic parts of life, the life-or-death parts, the yearning so deep it ached.

But he didn’t think he’d get this. The coming home part. The being loved openly and dearly part. The getting to collapses into the arms of the girl he loves and hearing her laugh while the city spins outside and he is untouched and unbothered for a few hours.

His head tilted up again suddenly, eyes bright.

“You know what ?” He asked

“What ?”

“I think that I am devastatingly in love with you”

You smiled at him, fingers brushing through the white streak of hair above the center of his forehead.

“Oh yeah ?”

Clark’s night had been a particular kind of hell. He didn't remember landing on your terrace.

One moment he was standing in the cratered ruin of what used to be a warehouse district on the outskirts of Metropolis, his hands still trembling from the echo of kryptonian fists meeting flesh, and the next he was here—boots silent on the weathered tile, the city sprawling beneath him like a circuit board of light and shadow.

The villain had called himself Pavor. A meta-human with the unsettling ability to weaponize fear, to reach into the deepest, most vulnerable parts of a person's mind and pull out their nightmares made manifest. Clark had faced worse. He'd faced world-enders and reality-benders, creatures from the Phantom Zone and gods from distant pantheons. But Pavor had done something that none of the others had managed.

He'd made Clark watch you die.

Not just once. A hundred times. A thousand. Each death more intimate and horrible than the last. A car accident on a rain-slicked street where Clark was too slow, too far away, his super-hearing catching your final breath across seven city blocks. A terminal illness that ate through your beautiful, laughing body while Clark held your hand and felt the life drain out of you, powerless to stop it because even he couldn't cure the incurable. An explosion in your apartment building that he arrived at two minutes too late, your favorite mug still warm on the kitchen counter, your scent still lingering in the hallway.

The worst one—the one that still had his hands shaking even now—was the simplest. You'd been walking home from the grocery store, a bag of oranges in your arms, and a man with a gun had wanted your wallet. In the vision, Clark had been standing right there. Right. There. And he'd still been too slow. The bullet had entered your chest before he could move, and you'd looked at him with such confusion, such betrayal, as if to say why didn't you save me? when you didn't even know he was there at all.

The villain was neutralized now. Sedated in a meta-human containment cell, his fear-dust swept up by biohazard teams. But the images lingered, burned into Clark's brain like afterimages from a nuclear blast.

He needed to see you.

The thought was urgent, desperate, clawing at his chest with something that felt dangerously close to panic. He needed to see your face, to hear your heartbeat, to feel you—warm and solid and alive—under his hands. The rational part of his mind, the part that had been doing this for almost two years, told him to go home first. Change out of the suit. Put on the glasses and the flannel shirt and the carefully constructed persona of Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter. That was the agreement, wasn't it? Not a formal one, not something you'd ever demanded, but something he'd built between you anyway. With you, he got to be just Clark. Not Superman. Not the symbol, the icon, the guy who caught planes and deflected asteroids. Just the man who burned his toast in the morning and left his socks on the bathroom floor and kissed the back of your neck while you were trying to make coffee.

But tonight, the thought of putting on that mask felt unbearable. Like another layer of separation between him and the thing he needed most.

So here he was. Boots on your terrace. The cape heavy on his shoulders, the House of El crest emblazoned across his chest. He'd never shown up like this before. Not once. You knew who he was—he'd told you, three months into the relationship, sitting on this very terrace with his heart in his throat and the words “I'm Superman” tasting like broken glass in his mouth—but you'd never seen him like this. The suit had always been something that happened somewhere else, in a different part of his life, the part he tried so hard to keep separate from the quiet sanctuary he'd found with you.

The sliding door was unlocked. It was always unlocked when he visited, a small act of faith that still made something in his chest ache. He could see you through the glass, curled on the couch with a book in your lap and a mug of tea steaming on the side table. You were wearing his university sweatshirt—the one he'd almost thrown away a dozen times because it was faded and threadbare, but you'd fished it out of the donation bag and claimed it as your own. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, still slightly damp from a shower, and you were absently chewing on your lower lip the way you did when you were concentrating.

His knees nearly buckled.

He'd watched you die tonight. He'd watched your eyes go dark and your heart stop and your blood pool on pavement, on tile, on the pristine white sheets of a hospital bed. He'd screamed your name in a dozen different nightmares, had reached for you a thousand times and come up empty. And here you were, reading one of your favorite books with your feet tucked under you, completely unaware that somewhere across the city, a so called God had been weeping over your corpse.

Clark slid the door open and you looked up immediately, a smile already forming on your lips—and then froze. Your eyes went wide, traveling from his face down the length of his body, taking in the suit and the cape and the way he was standing there like a man who'd just survived something he couldn't name.

“Clark?” Your voice was soft, uncertain, already tinged with concern. You set the book aside and rose from the couch, moving toward him slowly, carefully, the way you might approach a wounded animal. “Baby, what's wrong?”

He tried to speak. Tried to form words, to explain, to apologize for showing up like this without warning. But the sound that came out of his mouth was closer to a sob, raw and broken, and suddenly he was crossing the room in two strides and pulling you into his arms.

The contact nearly undid him.

You were warm. So impossibly, achingly warm, your body fitting against his like you'd been made to be there. Your heartbeat thrummed against his chest, steady and strong and alive, and Clark buried his face in your hair and breathed you in. Lavender shampoo. The faint trace of the tea you'd been drinking. Something underneath that was just you, the scent he'd committed to memory months ago, the one that meant home.

“Clark.” Your hands came up to cup his face, gentle but insistent, pulling back just enough to look at him. Your thumbs swept across his cheekbones, catching tears he hadn't realized he'd been shedding. “Talk to me. Please.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “There was a man tonight,” he said, and his voice came out rough, scraped raw. “He could—he could show people their fears. Make them real, somehow. In their minds.” He swallowed hard, and the next words came out on a shudder. “He showed me you. Dying. Over and over again. I watched you die so many times, and every time—every single time—I couldn't save you.”

Your breath caught. He felt it, felt the slight hitch in your chest, the way your fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on his jaw.

“Clark,” you whispered.

“I know it wasn't real.” The words came faster now, tumbling out of him like water through a broken dam. “I know that. I've dealt with fear-manipulators before, I know how it works, I know none of it actually happened. But I couldn't—I couldn't shake it. I couldn't stop seeing your face, couldn't stop hearing—” His voice cracked. “I needed to see you. I needed to hold you. And I couldn't go home and change first, I couldn't put on the glasses and pretend to be someone else for one more second, because I'm not—I'm not someone else, not with you, I've never been someone else with you, and I just—”

The words were coming too fast now, tripping over each other, spiraling. Clark could feel it building in his chest—that familiar, terrible pressure, the one he'd learned to recognize over years of burying things too deep. His heart was hammering, which was ridiculous because his heart didn't do that anymore, hadn't done that since he was a teenager learning to control his powers, but here it was, pounding against his ribs like a caged animal. His breathing was too quick, too shallow, and he couldn't seem to get enough air even though he didn't technically need to breathe at all, not really, not the way you did, but his body didn't seem to care about technicalities right now.

She's dead. She's dead and you're hallucinating and any second now you're going to blink and she's going to be gone and you're going to be back in that warehouse with her blood on your hands and—

“Clark.”

Your voice cut through the spiral like a blade through silk. Not loud. Not demanding. Just there, steady and warm and impossibly, impossibly present.

“Clark, look at me.”

He couldn't. He couldn't look at you because if he looked at you, he'd see the bullet hole or the sickness or the closed eyes or one of the thousand other ways he'd watched you die tonight, and he couldn't—he couldn't—

Your hands moved from his face to his shoulders, and then you were guiding him, gently but firmly, until his back hit the wall beside the sliding door. Not hard—you didn't have the strength to move him if he didn't want to be moved—but he went willingly, bonelessly, because some deep part of him recognized that you were trying to anchor him, and he needed an anchor more than he needed air.

“There you go,” you murmured, and your hands were on his chest now, right over the S-shield, and he could feel the warmth of your palms even through the suit. “I've got you. I'm right here. Feel my hands, Clark. Can you feel them?”

He nodded, a jerky, desperate motion. Your hands. He could feel your hands. Smaller than his and soft and warm, pressed against the symbol of his house, against the place where his heart should have been beating out of control but was instead starting, slowly, to calm.

“Good.” You stepped closer, and now your body was pressed against his, not in a way that was sexual but in a way that was grounding, solid and real and undeniable. You were warm all along his front, from his chest to his thighs, and he could feel every point of contact like a lifeline. “Now breathe with me, okay? Just breathe. In...” He felt your chest expand against his. “...and out.”

He tried. He really tried. But the images were still there, flickering behind his eyelids every time he blinked, and his breath came out in a shuddering gasp instead of anything resembling controlled.

“That's okay,” you said, and your voice was so soft, so impossibly gentle, like you were soothing a spooked horse rather than the most powerful being on the planet. “That's okay, baby. Just try again. In...”

This time, he followed. His chest rose against yours, and he felt the way you smiled—felt the curve of your lips against his collarbone where you'd pressed your face.

“Good. So good. Now out...”

He exhaled, and some of the pressure in his chest went with it.

“That's it.” Your hands started moving on his chest, slow circles over the fabric of his suit, soothing and repetitive. “You're doing so well, Clark. Just keep breathing with me. In...”

She's warm. She's warm and she's solid and she's here.

“...and out.”

Her heart is beating. I can hear it. I can feel it.

“In...”

It's not the vision. The vision was cold. She was cold in the vision.

“...and out.”

She's not cold. She's never been cold. She's the warmest thing I've ever known.

“In...”

She's alive.

“...and out.”

She's alive. She's alive. She's alive.

Clark's eyes opened. He hadn't realized he'd closed them. And there you were—your face tilted up to his, your eyes soft and patient and full of so much love it made something in his chest crack open all over again. But this time, it wasn't the bad kind of cracking. This was the kind that let light in.

“Hi,” you said softly, and there was the barest hint of a smile playing at your lips.

“Hi,” he managed, and his voice was wrecked, scraped raw, but it was his again.

Your hands slid up from his chest to his face, cradling his jaw, your thumbs tracing the curve of his cheekbones. You were so gentle with him, so careful, like he was something precious rather than something dangerous. He didn't understand how you did it. Didn't understand how you looked at him—at the suit, at the symbol, at the man who'd just fallen apart in your arms—and saw something worth holding.

“I'm here,” you said, and it wasn't the first time you'd said it tonight, but somehow it felt different now. Slower. More deliberate. Like you were pressing the words into his skin, making sure they stuck. “I'm here, Clark. I'm not a vision. I'm not a hallucination. I'm not going to disappear.”

He opened his mouth—to apologize, probably, because apologizing was what he did, was what he'd been training himself to do since he was old enough to understand that his existence was complicated—but you shook your head slightly, your thumbs pressing gently against his lips.

“No,” you said. “Don't. Don't apologize for needing me. Don't apologize for falling apart. You're allowed to fall apart, Clark. You're allowed to be scared and tired and overwhelmed and human, even if you're not—even if you're more than that. Especially because you're more than that. You carry so much. All the time. You never stop. You never let yourself just... be.”

Your hands moved from his face to his hair, pushing back the dark waves that had escaped the gel, your fingers carding through the strands with a tenderness that made his eyes sting.

“So here's what's going to happen,” you continued, and your voice was still soft but there was something underneath it now, something fierce and protective and utterly, utterly sure. “You're going to stand here with me for as long as you need to. And I'm going to hold you. And you're going to feel me—every part of me—and you're going to let yourself believe that I'm real.”

You took one of his hands—his stupid, heavy, dangerous hands, the hands that could punch through steel and crush diamonds—and pressed it flat against your chest, right over your heart.

“Feel that?” you asked.

He felt it. Of course he felt it. He could feel the steady thrum of your heartbeat against his palm, could feel the expansion of your lungs with every breath, could feel the warmth of your blood moving through your veins. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever felt.

“That's me,” you said. “That's my heart. It's beating because I'm alive, Clark. I'm alive, and I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not for a very, very long time, if I have anything to say about it.”

“But you can't promise that,” he whispered, and the words came out broken, aching, almost childish and he didn’t stop himself. “I can't protect you from everything. I couldn't in the visions. I tried, and I couldn't, and what if—what if one day—”

“Then we'll deal with that day if it comes.” Your voice was firm, unyielding, nothing like the soft, soothing tone from before. This was the voice you used when you were drawing a line in the sand, when you were refusing to let him spiral any further. “But it's not today, Clark. Today, I'm here. Right now, I'm here. And you're here. And we're together, and we're alive, and we love each other, and that's enough. That has to be enough, because it's all we have.”

You lifted his hand from your chest and pressed a kiss to his palm, right in the center, your lips warm and soft against his skin. Then you turned his hand over and kissed his knuckles, one by one, a slow and deliberate ritual.

“These hands,” you said between kisses. “These hands have caught airplanes. These hands have held up buildings. These hands have saved the world more times than I can count.” You looked up at him, and your eyes were shining. “But do you know what my favorite thing about these hands is?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice.

“They hold me,” you said simply. “They hold me when I'm sad. They hold me when I'm scared. They hold me when I'm happy and when I'm angry and when I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open. They hold me like I'm something precious, something worth protecting. And every time you hold me, I feel safe. Not because you're Superman. Because you're you. Because you're the man who loves me.”

A tear slipped down his cheek. You caught it with your thumb, wiping it away like it was nothing, like it didn't matter that he was crying in front of you for the second time tonight.

“I love you,” you said, and the words were so simple, so small, and yet they filled every empty space in his chest. “I love you, Clark Kent. I love the reporter and the hero and the farm boy from Kansas. I love the man who burns toast and leaves socks on the floor and cries at dog commercials. I love the man who showed up on my terrace tonight in his Superman suit because he was scared and he needed me. I love all of you. Every broken, beautiful piece.”

Clark let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for hours. The tension in his shoulders—the tension he hadn't even realized was there until this moment—began to ease. The images were still lurking at the edges of his mind, but they seemed dimmer now, less urgent, like nightmares fading in the light of morning.

You stepped back just enough to look at him properly, your hands sliding down to rest on his hips. Your eyes traveled over him—the suit, the cape, the S-shield—and instead of fear or uncertainty, he saw something else. Something that looked like wonder. Like acceptance. Like love, pure and simple and absolute.

"You know," you said, and your voice was lighter now, teasing at the edges, “I've always wondered what this suit would feel like. Before meeting you, of course.”

Despite everything—despite the nightmares and the panic and the tears—Clark felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers traced the edge of the S-shield, following the curve of the symbol. “It's softer than I expected. I always imagined it would be... I don't know. Hard. Impenetrable.”

“It is,” he said. “Impenetrable, I mean. Mostly.”

“Hmm.” You looked up at him through your lashes, and there was something in your expression now that made his breath catch for an entirely different reason. “And yet I can still feel you through it. Still feel how warm you are. Still feel your heart beating.” Your palm pressed flat against his chest, right over the symbol. “Still feel how much you love me.”

Clark's hands came up to cover yours, pressing them more firmly against his chest. “I don't know how to explain how much I love you,” he said, and his voice was raw but steady now. “I don't have words big enough. I don't have gestures grand enough. I just... I love you. I love you in ways I didn't know I could love someone. I love you in ways that scare me, because it's so much, and if I ever lost it—if I ever lost you—”

“You won't,” you said, and it wasn't a promise—not really, not one either of you could guarantee—but it was close enough. It was hope, and sometimes hope was all anyone had.

You rose up on your toes and kissed him, soft and slow and sweet. It wasn't the desperate, frantic kiss you always have. This was something else. Something that felt like a vow. Like a benediction. Like you were trying to pour every ounce of love you felt into him through the simple press of your lips.

When you pulled back, your eyes were bright, and your smile was the one he fell in love with—the one that crinkled the corners of your eyes and made him feel like he'd come home.

You kissed him again.

But now, it wasn't a gentle kiss, not the soft, sweet kind you usually shared over morning coffee or lazy Sunday afternoons. This was urgent, desperate, your mouth slanting over his like you were trying to pull the pain out of him through sheer proximity. Your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the gel he used to keep it tamed was probably leaving residue on your palms, and you kissed him until he forgot how to breathe.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I'm here,” you said, fierce and quiet all at once. “I'm right here, Clark. I'm not going anywhere.”

He made a sound—something broken, something grateful—and kissed you again. And again. And again, each kiss softer than the last, until he was just pressing his lips to your forehead, your temples, the corner of your mouth, the pulse point at your throat where your heartbeat still sang its steady, beautiful rhythm against his skin.

“I love you,” he said against your neck. The words felt too small for the enormity of what he felt, but they were all he had. “God, I love you so much.” He murmurs, nipping at your neck. “Can I take you to bed?,” he said softly, and his voice had shifted into something lower now, something that made his stomach tighten. “Please. I need—I need to feel you. All of you.” All you did was nod and that, besides that look in your eyes, was all he needed.

He started to lift you—one arm under your knees, the other around your back, the way he always did because he could and because you made that delighted sound every single time—but you pressed a hand to his chest and stopped him.

“No,” you said, and there was a new edge to your voice. Something determined. Something that made him pause, his hands stilling on your hips. “No, Clark. Tonight, I was going to—I was going to take care of you.” Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit, right over where his heart was hammering. “When I saw you standing there, in the suit, looking like you'd seen a ghost—I thought, “okay. I've got this. I'm going to hold him. I'm going to love him. I'm going to make him forget every single terrible thing he saw tonight”.”

His throat tightened. “Sweetheart—”

“But then you kissed me.” Your voice softened, your thumbs tracing small circles against his chest. “And I felt how much you needed this. Needed me. Not in a way that I could fix by being on top, or by taking control. You needed to hold me. You needed to feel me underneath you, alive and warm and yours.” You looked up at him, and your eyes were so full of love that it almost hurt to meet them. “So I'm not going to fight you for it. But I am going to get this suit off you first.”

Clark blinked. “What?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth—the first real smile he'd seen from you since he'd arrived, and god, it was like watching the sun come out after months of rain. “You heard me, Kent.” Your hands moved to the clasp of his cape, fingers working with a determination he'd only ever seen you apply to stubborn jar lids and particularly difficult crossword puzzles. “I love you. I love that you showed up here like this, that you trusted me enough to come to me when you were falling apart. But I am not having sex with you while you're wearing enough spandex to make a 1980s rock band jealous.”

A surprised laugh escaped him—shaky, wet, still caught somewhere between a sob and actual humor. “It's not spandex. It's a Kryptonian combat weave—”

“I don't care if it's woven from the beard hairs of Zeus himself,” you interrupted, finally managing to unhook the cape and letting it pool to the floor in a dramatic puddle of red. “It's coming off.”

And just like that, something in his chest loosened. Just a little. Just enough for him to remember that this was you, that you'd never once treated him like a symbol or a savior, that you'd always been more interested in the man beneath the armor than the armor itself.

“Help me with the boots,” you said, already reaching for the zipper on the side of his right boot, and Clark found himself sinking onto the edge of the couch, letting you kneel in front of him and pull each boot off with a kind of focused intensity that made his heart ache.

You worked in silence for a moment, the only sounds the soft rasp of fabric and your steady breathing. When both boots were off—thrown unceremoniously into the corner, where they landed with two heavy thuds—you looked up at him, and your hands came to rest on his knees.

“Stand up,” you said softly.

He stood and you rose with him, your hands sliding up his thighs to hook your fingers into the waistband of the suit. “Arms up,” you murmured, once you saw it was a two piece suit and he obeyed, lifting his arms above his head as you peeled the top half of the suit off him in one smooth motion. The Kryptonian fabric whispered against his skin, and then he was standing in front of you in nothing but the blue undersuit and you paused, your hands flat against his chest.

“There he is,” you whispered, and your voice cracked just slightly on the last word. “There's my Clark.”

He couldn't speak. Couldn't form words around the lump in his throat. He just stood there, trembling under your touch as your hands explored the landscape of his chest—the scars you'd memorized months ago, the hard planes of muscle, the places where his heartbeat pulsed warm against your palm.

“Let me see all of you,” you said, and it wasn't a demand. It was a question, soft and open, and Clark nodded because he couldn't say no to you. Not tonight. Not ever.

You peeled the undersuit off him slowly, almost reverently, your knuckles brushing against his stomach, his hips, the sensitive skin at his sides. When it pooled at his feet and he stepped out of it, leaving him in nothing but his briefs—black, plain, the kind he bought in multipacks from the department store because who was going to see them anyway—you made a sound low in your throat that made his cock twitch.

“Beautiful,” you breathed, and your hands were on him again, tracing the lines of his hips, the jut of his hipbones, the soft trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs. “You're so beautiful, Clark.”

“Sweetheart, mmhm I—” His voice came out strangled.

“Shh.” You pressed a finger to his lips, then replaced it with your mouth, kissing him slow and deep. “You said you needed to take care of me tonight. So take me to bed. But I want you naked when you do it. I want to feel you—all of you—nothing between us.”

He lifted you then—finally, finally—and you wrapped your legs around his waist with a quiet moan, your center pressing against the thin fabric of his briefs, and he could feel how warm you were, how ready, and it took every ounce of his considerable self-control not to just take you against the wall right there.

The walk to your bedroom was short but eternal. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, fast and steady, and your mouth was on his neck, your teeth scraping against the sensitive skin just below his jaw, and by the time he laid you down on the bed, he was so hard it was almost painful.

You reached for the hem of his sweatshirt—the one you were wearing, the one that still smelled faintly of him underneath your shampoo—and pulled it over your head in one fluid motion. You weren't wearing anything underneath, and Clark made a sound like a wounded animal at the sight of you, bare and beautiful and spread out on the sheets like an offering.

“Clark.” Your voice was soft but steady. "”our briefs. Off. Now.”

He couldn't help the broken laugh that escaped him. “Bossy tonight.”

“You almost died in a who knows where and then watched me die a thousand times in your head,” you said, and your eyes were serious now, deep and unwavering. “I think I'm allowed to be bossy.” A pause. “Besides, you're the one who wanted to take care of me. Can't do that if you're not even undressed yet.”

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and pushed them down, his cock springing free, hard and flushed and already leaking against his stomach. Your eyes dropped to it, and your lips parted, and Clark felt a surge of heat so intense it nearly knocked him off his feet.

“Come here,” you said, reaching for him. “Come here, I need you, honey.”

He crawled onto the bed, settling over you, his weight braced on his forearms so he wouldn't crush you. The contact was overwhelming—skin to skin, chest to chest, his cock pressing against your thigh—and you both groaned at the same time.

“I kept hearing your heartbeat stop,” he admitted, the words spilling out of him in a whisper as he pressed his forehead to yours. “In the visions. It would just... stop. And I would scream, and it wouldn't start again, and I couldn't—” He pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in. “You have to understand. I've heard things. Seen things. In all my years doing this, I've witnessed horrors that would break most people. But nothing—nothing—has ever hurt like watching you die.”

Your hands slid down his back, fingers digging into the muscles there, pulling him closer. “I'm here,” you said, and your voice was steady even though your eyes were wet. “Feel my heartbeat, Clark. Feel it.”

He did. He pressed his ear to your chest, right over your heart, and listened. thrum-thrum, thump-thump. Steady and strong and real. Your hand came up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, and he felt the vibration of your voice through your ribcage as you spoke.

“I love you,” you said into the quiet. “I love you, I love you, I love you. That heartbeat is yours. It's always been yours. Every single beat, from the moment we met until the moment I die—and I'm not dying tonight, Clark, I'm not dying anytime soon—every single one of them is for you.”

He kissed his way down your body. Slowly. Deliberately. Each kiss a confirmation, a reassurance, a tiny prayer of gratitude. He kissed the spot where your pulse beat at the base of your throat. He kissed the hollow between your collarbones. He kissed the swell of your breasts, took one nipple into his mouth, and you arched beneath him with a cry that went straight to his cock.

“Clark, mmhm oh fuck”

He sucked gently, then harder when your fingers tightened in his hair, and your other hand scrabbled at the sheets like you were trying to anchor yourself. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, and your hips were rolling against his, your wetness slick against his stomach.

“Please,” you gasped. “Please, Clark, I need you inside me—”

He lifted his head, looking down at you. Your eyes were dark, your lips parted, your chest heaving. You were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he'd seen galaxies born and die.

“Not yet,” he said, and his voice was rough but steady now. “I'm not done taking care of you.”

He kissed lower, trailing his mouth down your sternum, your stomach, the soft curve of your belly. When he reached the waistband of your pajama shorts—the tiny cotton ones you wore to bed, the ones with the little strawberries on them that made him smile every single time—he hooked his fingers into them and pulled them down your legs along with your underwear, tossing them somewhere behind him.

And then you were bare beneath him, open and wanting, and Clark settled between your thighs like he was coming home.

He kissed the inside of your knee. Then your thigh. Then higher, and higher, until his breath was hot against your center and you were shaking, your hands fisting in the sheets.

“Clark—”

“Shh,” he murmured, and then he licked you—one long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit—and the sound you made was enough to bring him to his knees if he hadn't already been there.

You tasted like heaven. Like home. Like everything he'd been desperate for since the first nightmare had taken hold. He buried his face between your thighs and worshipped you, his tongue drawing patterns on your clit, his fingers sliding inside you and curling just so, and you were crying out his name, your hips bucking against his mouth. He loves spending his time with you, licking, sucking and sometimes his teeth are involved.

“That's it,” he murmured against you, and the vibration made you whimper. “Let me hear you, my love. Let me feel you. I need to know you're real, sweetheart, I need to feel you come apart for me—”

You came with a shattered cry, your whole body convulsing, your thighs clamping around his head, and Clark didn't stop. He licked you through it, gentler now, softer, until you were pushing at his shoulders with trembling hands.

“Too much,” you gasped. “Too much, honey, I can't handle more.”

He crawled back up your body, kissing you so you could taste yourself on his lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, and he could feel your heart hammering against his chest.

“I love you,”he said, and it came out like a prayer. “I love you, I love you, I love you so much, baby.”

“Then fuck me,” you said, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “Please, Clark, I need to feel you deep inside.”

He reached between you, positioning himself at your entrance, and paused. Looked down at you. Your eyes were wet, your face flushed, your lips swollen from his kisses. You looked utterly wrecked, and utterly here, and something in his chest cracked open and healed all at once.

“Talk to me,” he said, and his voice was raw. “While I'm inside you. I need to hear your voice. I need to know you're with me.”

“I'm with you,” you said, and your hands cupped his face, pulling him down until your foreheads touched. “I'm always with you, Clark. Now please—”

He pushed inside you. Slowly. So slowly. Inch by agonizing inch, watching your face the whole time—the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way your lips parted, the way you gasped his name like it was the only word you remembered how to say. When he was fully seated, buried to the hilt inside your heat, he stopped. Just held there, letting you both adjust, letting himself feel every pulse and flutter of your body around him.

“Gosh,” he breathed. “Oh Gosh, you feel so good, my love.”

“I know.” Your voice was wrecked. “I know. Move, Clark. Please.”

He pulled back and thrust forward, and the sound you made was obscene, perfect, the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. He set a rhythm—slow at first, deep and deliberate, each thrust a reaffirmation that you were here, you were alive, you were his.

“I watched you die,” he said, and the words came out between thrusts, ragged and raw. “I watched you die in a hospital bed. I watched you die in a car crash. I watched you die in something that could be our shared home.” His voice broke, and he thrust deeper, and you moaned. “I watched a man shoot you in the chest while I was standing right there, and I couldn't—I couldn't, oh damn.”

“Clark.” Your hands were everywhere—his face, his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer, holding him like you could keep him from flying apart. “I'm here. I'm here. Feel me—feel me, honey.”

He did. He felt the way you clenched around him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders, the way your heels pressed into the backs of his thighs, urging him deeper. He felt your heartbeat thrumming against his chest, faster now, matching the rhythm of his hips. He felt the wetness on his cheeks—tears, his or yours, he couldn't tell anymore—and the warmth of your breath against his neck.

“You're so beautiful,” he said, and he was crying now, actually crying, the tears falling onto your face and mixing with yours. “You're so beautiful and I can't lose you, I can't—”

“You won't.” You kissed his tears, your mouth soft and desperate against his cheeks, his eyelids, the corner of his lips. “You won't lose me, Clark. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. I'm right here, I'm right here, I'm always here.”

Your words became a chant, a mantra, a prayer, and Clark fucked you through it, hard and deep and desperate, his hand sliding between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles.

“Come for me,” he said, and it wasn't a request. “Come for me, sweetheart, I need to feel you—I need to know you're real, that you’re here, that you’re mine.”

You shattered. Came apart around him with a cry that was almost a scream, your body convulsing, your inner walls clenching around him like a vice, and Clark followed you over the edge with a groan that was torn from somewhere deep in his chest. He spilled inside you, wave after wave, his hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

For a long moment, there was nothing but breathing. Nothing but the sound of your hearts—his steady and strong, yours fast and fluttering—and the rustle of sheets as you both trembled through the aftershocks.

Clark collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, your head tucked under his chin and your legs tangled with his. He could feel your tears on his chest, could hear the little hitches in your breath as you cried, and he held you tighter, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

“I'm sorry,” he said after a long moment, his voice muffled by your hair. “For showing up like this. For—for dumping all of that on you. You didn't sign up for all this mess, baby.”

“Stop.” Your hand pressed flat against his chest, right over his heart. “Don't you dare apologize. Not for this. Not for needing me.” You tilted your head back to look at him, and your eyes were red-rimmed but fierce. “I signed up for all of you, Clark Kent. The good days and the bad ones. The nightmares and the morning coffee. The cape and the glasses. You don't get to hide parts of yourself from me just because you think they're inconvenient or scary or too much.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. “I love you,” he said, because the words were inadequate but they were all he had. “I love you more than I know how to say.”

You smiled—that soft, devastating smile that had undone him from the very first moment he'd seen it—and snuggled closer, your ear pressed over his heart.

“Then show me,” you said quietly. “Every day. For the rest of our lives.”

Clark looked down at you—at the tear tracks on your cheeks, the love in your eyes, the way your body was pressed against his like you were trying to crawl inside his skin and stay there—and he felt something shift. Something settle. Something that felt like hope.

“I will,” he said, and his voice was steady now. Certain. “Every day. For the rest of our lives.”

Outside, the city hummed its endless night-song. Inside, wrapped in each other and the quiet aftermath of love, Clark Kent let himself believe that everything might just be okay.

He had you, after all. And that was enough. That was everything. You are his everything.