Chicago in the spring was a liar. The calendar claimed winter was over, but the wind whipping between the glass towers downtown still carried enough bite to make people regret leaving their coats at home. The streets below were packed with commuters balancing coffee cups and briefcases, traffic crawling through the Loop beneath a sky painted in shades of pale gray.
Twenty floors above it all, the offices of Jeong & Partners were already alive. Assistants hurried through hallways carrying files. Junior associates practically sprinted toward conference rooms. Partners barked orders before most people had finished their first cup of coffee. And somewhere in the middle of the controlled chaos, you were running late. Again.
The elevator doors slid open and you stepped out, laptop tucked against your side, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floors. Your outfit was simple, professional, and entirely appropriate for one of Chicagoâs most prestigious law firms. A fitted black turtleneck disappeared beneath the lapels of your coat while a tailored plaid skirt hugged your figure, paired with sheer black tights and heels that made navigating the city feel like a competitive sport. You barely looked up as you crossed the bullpen.
You had a deposition in three hours. A mountain of discovery documents on your desk. Three emails from a partner marked urgent. And absolutely no patience for anyone before your first coffee. Unfortunately for you, someone was already watching. From behind the glass walls of a corner office overlooking the city skyline, Yunho looked up from the contract spread across his desk the second you appeared. Like always. It was embarrassing at this point. Years later and he still did it. Every morning. Every damn time.
The moment you stepped onto the floor his attention automatically found you. His eyes followed your path through the office, taking in the familiar sight of you weaving around desks and associates with barely a glance in their direction. His jaw tightened slightly as the skirt moved with every confident step, forcing himself to look away before someone noticed him staring at your ass. âJesus Christ,â he muttered under his breath. Because apparently seven years wasnât enough time to get over a crush. Not law school. Not graduation. Not working together for almost three years. Nothing helped. If anything, seeing you every day only made it worse. Far worse.
A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts as his assistant stepped into the office. âJeong, the Montgomery files.â Yunho looked down at the documents in front of him. âThanks.â The assistant left and Yunho immediately looked back toward your office. Pathetic. Actually pathetic and he knew it. His father knew it. Half the damn firm probably knew it. Yet there he was. Still watching. Still hopeless. Still completely screwed. Then his mood darkened. Because Danny appeared. The new associate. Fresh out of Northwestern. Too eager. Too friendly. And unfortunately very interested in you.
Yunho watched as Danny crossed the floor carrying two coffees. One for himself and one for you. His jaw immediately clenched as Danny stopped outside your office just as you reached your desk. You looked up from your laptop and he flashed a smile, said something Yunho couldnât hear. Then handed you the coffee and your smile appeared. And Yunho nearly snapped the pen in his hand. The worst part wasnât even that Danny liked you. Everybody liked you. That wasnât new. The problem was Danny had the confidence to actually do something about it. While Yunho had spent years pretending he wasnât completely obsessed.
From your office, you accepted the coffee with a grateful smile and Danny laughed at something you said and you laughed back. And across the floor, Yunho looked one minor inconvenience away from committing several felonies. A moment later his office door opened and his father stepped inside carrying a folder. One glance out the glass wall was all it took and older man sighed. The sigh of a man who had watched this exact situation unfold for years. âMorning, son.â Yunho didnât answer as his father followed his gaze. Saw Danny. Saw you. Saw the coffee. And immediately understood. âStill havenât told her?â
Yunhoâs eyes never left the scene outside. âNo idea what youâre talking about.â
âRight.â
âNot a clue.â
His father nodded then placed the folder on the desk. âYou know, most people simply ask someone out.â Yunho finally looked at him. âIâd rather jump off the roof.â His father laughed. âThatâs probably easier than whatever it is youâre doing now.â Outside, Danny said something else that made you smile again and Yunho looked away immediately. Because for some reason, that smile had always been his biggest weakness. And unfortunately for him, you had absolutely no idea.
Yunhoâs father didnât look particularly sympathetic. In fact, the older man looked far too entertained for someone standing in the office of a man currently contemplating murder. Outside the glass walls, Danny was still lingering beside your desk, leaning casually against the doorway while you sorted through emails. Whatever he was saying earned yet another laugh from you and Yunhoâs eye twitched.
âYouâre glaring.â
âIâm working.â
âYouâre glaring while working.â
âIâm multitasking.â
His father snorted. âVery professional.â Yunho finally dragged his attention back toward the folder sitting on his desk. âWhat do you need?â The smile his father gave him instantly made him suspicious. Twenty seven years old and it still worked. Every time that smile appeared, it meant trouble. His father slid a folder across the desk. âNew case.â Yunho opened it and froze.
First came confusion. Then disbelief. Then something dangerously close to hope. His father watched every emotion happen in real time.
âYouâre kidding.â
âNo.â
Yunho flipped through the first few pages. Major client. Corporate litigation. Huge account. Millions at stake. The kind of case that could make careers. His eyes landed on the staffing page then stopped. Because directly beneath his own name was yours and for a second he forgot how to breathe as his father folded his arms. âSurprise.â Yunho read it again. Then again just to make sure. Still there. Your name. Partnered with him. For months. Potentially longer. Depositions. Strategy meetings. Client dinners. Travel. Late nights. Court appearances. The entire package.
Slowly, his father sat down across from the desk. âHappy?â
âNo.â
âLiar.â
Yunho tossed the folder onto his desk and his father grinned. âYou two will be leading it together.â Yunho groaned, putting up that front of his. Denial. False annoyance. âWhy?â
âBecause youâre my two best associates.â
Yunho immediately narrowed his eyes. âThat sounds fake.â
âItâs not.â
âIt sounds fake.â
His father laughed. âIt is a little fake.â Yunho rolled his eyes. âThere it is.â The older man leaned back in his chair. âThe client requested our strongest team.â
âAnd?â
âAnd unfortunately the two of you are extremely good together.â
Yunho hated that. Not because it wasnât true. Because it was. You fought constantly. Argued over strategy. Disagreed on nearly everything. But somehow every case the two of you touched ended in a win. The entire firm knew it. Which only made it worse. His father studied him for a moment then sighed. âYou know this is probably healthy.â Yunho already hated where this conversation was heading. âHealthy?â
âYes.â
âWorking sixty hour weeks is healthy?â
âNo.â
âThen what are you talking about?â
His father pointed toward the bullpen. Toward you. âThe time together.â Yunho immediately looked away. âAbsolutely not.â
âThe kind of time where youâre not obsessing over her from behind glass.â Outside, a group of associates walked past your office while Yunho stared at his father like heâd just committed a crime but the older man just continued. âMaybe youâll actually have a conversation.â
âI talk to her.â
âYou argue with her.â
âSame thing.â
âIt is not.â
Yunho rubbed a hand over his face. His father was enjoying this far too much. âYouâre being dramatic.â His father nearly choked laughing. âMe?â
âYes.â
The older man pointed at the floor to ceiling windows. âSon, youâve spent the last ten minutes watching her drink coffee.â
âThatâs not true.â
âYou literally stopped listening when she smiled.â Yunho opened his mouth and closed it. Opened it again. Then gave up. Because unfortunately that was exactly what had happened and his father looked positively delighted. âSeven years.â
âStop.â
âSeven.â
âPlease stop.â
âYears.â
Yunho groaned as his father stood and straightened his jacket. âYou know, normal people wouldâve asked her out by now.â
âIâm not normal.â
âClearly.â His father moved toward the door then paused and gave one last glance over his shoulder. One final bullet to the head. âTry not to scare her off.â The door closed behind him and Yunho stared at it. Then immediately looked across the office floor straight toward your office. As if sensing it, you looked up and your eyes met through the glass. And for a brief second. One tiny second. Before you rolled your eyes and went back to workâŚ.. Yunho felt something in his chest do a complete backflip. Then Danny reappeared carrying another stack of files and just like that, his mood was ruined again.
The rest of the morning passed exactly how most mornings at Jeong & Partners passed. Chaotically. Emails. Phone calls. Research requests. Partners demanding updates. Clients demanding miracles. By noon, you had almost forgotten about the conversation youâd overheard between two associates discussing some major litigation assignment being announced later that week. Almost. Unfortunately, one particular blond attorney seemed determined to make sure you didnât forget.
Across the floor, Yunho had spent the better part of the last three hours pretending to work. The keyword being pretending. Because every time he looked up from his desk, he could see your office. Every time he glanced through the glass walls, there you were. Typing. Reading. Arguing with opposing counsel over the phone. Running a hand through your hair when frustrated. And every single time, he had to force himself to focus on something else. The problem was now he knew. Now he knew youâd be working together. Months. Possibly longer. Which meant his already fragile self control was hanging on by a thread. And the worst part? He was excited.
Which was exactly why he needed to be an asshole. The asshole persona was safe. The asshole persona couldnât accidentally confess heâd been in love with you since constitutional law. The asshole persona couldnât accidentally admit he remembered what color dress youâd worn to graduation. So the asshole persona stayed and by lunchtime, you were gathering your things. Your laptop disappeared into your bag. You grabbed your phone. A few files. Your wallet. And finally stood from your desk. But the second you stepped into the hallway, a familiar voice appeared like a curse. âGoing somewhere?â
You stopped walking and closed your eyes. Counted to three then turned. Yunho stood a few feet away looking irritatingly perfect as usual. The charcoal three piece suit fit him like it had been stitched directly onto his body. His tie had disappeared sometime during the morning, the top button of his white dress shirt undone. The silver blond hair heâd been bleaching for as long as youâd known him fell across his forehead in a way that shouldâve looked ridiculous. Instead, annoyingly, it worked. You hated that it worked. You hated that your brain occasionally noticed things like that. Mostly because it was easier to be irritated by him when he wasnât walking around looking like the human embodiment of an expensive magazine ad of your exact type. âWhat do you want?â
His mouth immediately twitched. âYou know,â he said casually, sliding one hand into his pocket, âmost people start conversations with hello.â
âMost people arenât you.â
âOuch.â
âTragic.â
Yunho looked positively delighted and you hated that too. Then again, he always seemed happiest when annoying you. Which honestly said a lot about his mental stability. âSo,â he said.
âNo.â
âYou donât even know what I was going to ask.â
âI know enough.â
His grin widened. God, you wanted to throw something at him. âDid you hear the news?â You rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. âWhat news?â For a brief moment something flashed through his expression. Excitement. Then it disappeared beneath the usual cocky smile as Yunho pulled a folder from under his arm and held it out making you frown as you took it and opened it. And immediately froze. Your name. His name. The case assignment. The same realization hit you that had hit him hours earlier. âOh no.â Yunho laughed. The bastard. âOh yes.â You looked up. Then back at the paperwork. Then back at him. âNo.â
âAfraid so.â
âThere has to be a mistake.â
âThere isnât.â
âYour father hates me.â
âMy father loves you.â You blinked and Yunho blinked. And for one horrifying second neither of you moved. Then he recovered. Far faster than you did. âProfessionally,â he added quickly and your eyes narrowed. âRight.â
âObviously.â
Neither of you seemed entirely convinced as Yunho cleared his throat. Then leaned slightly closer. Not enough to invade your space. Just enough to be annoying. His favorite distance. The distance that made you aware of him. Made you notice things. Like the expensive cologne. Or the sharp line of his jaw. Or the fact that his eyes always seemed to be looking directly through people. Except when he looked at you. Then they felt entirely too focused. Entirely too attentive. And entirely too dangerous.
His grin returned. Slow and cocky and infuriating. âLooks like youâre mine for the next few months, sweetheart.â You stared at him as you slowly closed the folder and smiled. The kind of smile that made junior associates run. âOh, Jeong.â Yunhoâs stomach immediately dropped. Because that tone never meant anything good. And he hated how it made his dick twitch. âWhat?â You stepped forward. Close enough to pat his shoulder. Close enough to watch his stupid confident smile falter slightly. âIf you call me sweetheart one more timeâŚâ Yunho looked amused as you smiled wider. âIâm going to make sure every minute of this case feels like a personal attack.â
For a second silence hung between you. Then Yunho laughed. A real laugh. Low. Warm. Entirely too attractive. And to your absolute horror, the man looked thrilled. Like youâd just promised him a vacation instead of a threat. âCanât wait, sweetheart.â You rolled your eyes and walked away toward the elevators and behind you, Yunho watched you go. Watched until the elevator doors closed. Watched until you disappeared completely. Then let out a slow breath. Because working with you every day for months was either going to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. Or the thing that finally killed him. And honestly? He wasnât sure which outcome was more likely.
By the time you returned from lunch, your irritation had somehow gotten worse. Which was impressive. Youâd spent nearly forty minutes convincing yourself you were overreacting. Convincing yourself that being assigned to a case with Yunho wasnât the end of the world. That you were both professionals. That youâd survived law school together. That youâd survived three years working in the same building. You could survive one case. Then youâd walked back into the office and the first thing youâd seen was Yunho leaning against someoneâs desk laughing about something. The second thing youâd seen was him noticing you. The third thing was that stupid grin appearing immediately. And suddenly all your progress had disappeared.
Now you stood outside the managing partnerâs office. Mr. Jeongâs office. The largest office in the building. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked downtown Chicago while shelves lined with legal awards and framed photographs occupied nearly every wall. Most people were intimidated walking in here. You werenât. Mostly because youâd known the man for years. The door was already open and Mr. Jeong looked up from a stack of documents when you appeared and a smile immediately pulled at his mouth that looked too much like his sonâs. Which should have been your first warning. âAh.â
You narrowed your eyes. âDonât âahâ me.â His smile grew. Definitely a warning sign. âGood afternoon, Y/N.â
âYou put me on a case with your son.â
âYes.â
âNo explanation?â
âNo.â
You stared and he stared back completely unbothered as you dropped into the chair across from his desk. âWhy?â The older attorney set down his pen. âBecause youâre both excellent attorneys.â
âThatâs the official answer?â
âIt is.â
âI want the real answer.â
His eyes sparkled and you immediately regretted asking as Mr. Jeong leaned back in his chair. âYou know, when you ask a question like that, it makes it sound like working with Yunho is some terrible punishment.â
âIt is.â
The man laughed. âThatâs harsh.â
âYou raised him.â
âI tried my best.â
âYou failed.â
âI know.â Another laugh and honestly, it was annoying how much amusement he got from this. You crossed your arms. âIâm serious.â
âSo am I.â
âMr. Jeong.â
He sighed dramatically. Then folded his hands on his desk. âThe truth?â
âYes.â
âYou two are the best litigators I have.â
You opened your mouth but he raised a finger. âAnd before you argue, let me finish.â You immediately closed it. Mostly because he was giving you the same look he gave witnesses right before destroying their credibility. âThe two of you disagree on everything.â
âExactly.â
âWhich is why you work.â You frowned as he continued. âYunho sees details nobody else sees.â You hated how true that was. âYou see angles nobody else sees.â Unfortunately also true. âYou challenge each other.â You rolled your eyes. âWe annoy each other.â
âThat too.â The older man smiled. âBut every single time I put the two of you in the same room, the work gets better.â You couldnât immediately argue. Which was irritating and Mr. Jeong noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything. âYou know what your biggest problem is?â
âI have several.â
âYou assume things about my son.â The sudden shift caught you off guard. âWhat?â
âYou assume you already know who he is.â
You leaned back. âAnd I donât?â
âNo.â The answer came immediately. Without hesitation. Without doubt. And for some reason that bothered you. Mr. Jeong glanced toward the windows. Toward the city beyond them. âHe works harder than anyone in this building.â You opened your mouth but he raised a hand again. âI know exactly what people say. Founderâs son.â His voice was calm. âNepo hire.â Your expression shifted slightly. âEverything handed to him.â The older man smiled. A sadder smile this time. âTheyâve been saying it since he first started law school.â Something uncomfortable settled in your stomach. Because if there was one thing you knew about Yunho⌠he never defended himself. Ever. Heâd make a joke. Deflect. Smile. Move on. But heâd never actually defend himself.
Mr. Jeong looked back at you. âThe reason Iâm putting you together is because I trust both of you.â You nodded slowly. That answer at least felt genuine. Then the older attorney ruined it. âI also think itâll be entertaining.â You groaned. âSeriously?â
âVery.â The man grinned again. âYou shouldâve seen his face when I told him.â Your eyes narrowed as Mr. Jeong looked entirely too pleased with himself. âWhat face?â His grin widened. âThe kind that suggested he was trying very hard to pretend he wasnât happy.â Now you looked suspicious. âHappy?â
âOh, absolutely.â
âWhy?â
The older man suddenly became fascinated by a document sitting on his desk. âOh, who knows.â
âMr. Jeong.â
âNo idea.â
âYouâre lying.â
âIâm a lawyer.â
âThatâs not helping your case.â
âIt never does.â
You stared at each other. And the older man looked remarkably smug as you stood. Because you werenât getting anything useful out of him. âYouâre impossible.â
âSo Iâve been told.â
You moved toward the door, reaching for the handle. Then his voice stopped you. âGive him a chance, Y/N.â You paused as Mr. Jeongâs expression had softened. Only a little. But enough. âA chance to what?â His smile returned. Smaller this time. âTo genuinely surprise you.â You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you walked out. But for the rest of the afternoon, as annoying as it was, you couldnât quite get those words out of your head.
Because for the first time in years, a tiny part of you wondered if maybe there was more to Yunho than the arrogant smartass who spent half his life trying to get under your skin. Unfortunately, that thought lasted exactly seven minutes. Because the moment you got back to your office, there was a sticky note on your monitor in familiar handwriting.
Donât forget our strategy meeting after hours tonight, sweetheart. â¤ď¸
You stared at it long and hard. Then immediately started plotting his murder.
By five thirty, the office had settled into its usual evening rhythm. Some associates were packing up and heading home. Others were just beginning the second half of their day. The litigation department lived on caffeine, spite, and impossible deadlines, and today was no different. You had spent the last two hours buried beneath discovery documents, deposition transcripts, and a growing headache that felt suspiciously like the beginning of a migraine. Which was why you eventually abandoned your office in search of salvation. Specifically, a Red Bull.
The break room was mercifully empty when you walked in. At least for the first ten seconds. You opened the refrigerator. Found the can youâd stashed there that morning and immediately heard a familiar voice behind you. âPlease tell me thatâs not your dinner.â You glanced over your shoulder. Danny. Of course. He stood in the doorway carrying a stack of files under one arm. His tie was loosened and his sleeves were rolled up. The picture of an overworked attorney trying very hard to impress someone. Namely you.
âIt has vitamins.â
Danny laughed. âThatâs not how vitamins work.â
âIt is when youâre desperate.â
âYou know, normal people eat food.â
You cracked the can open. âNormal people arenât handling four cases and a psychotic partner.â
âFair point.â
The two of you fell into easy conversation while you leaned against the counter sipping your drink. Danny was nice. Maybe a little eager. Maybe a little obvious. But nice. The kind of guy who remembered birthdays and probably called his mother every Sunday. Unfortunately for him, he had made the mistake of developing a crush on someone who worked directly across the hall from Yunho. A mistake Yunho was becoming increasingly aware of. Because at that exact moment, Yunho stepped into the break room and stopped.
The sight before him made something unpleasant settle in his chest. You standing beside the counter. Red Bull in hand. Skirt riding up a little. Laughing. And Danny standing entirely too close. Smiling entirely too much. Looking entirely too interested. For a moment, Yunho considered turning around. Walking away. Being mature. Then Danny reached over and brushed something off your sleeve and suddenly maturity became significantly less appealing.
âWell.â
Both you and Danny turned as Yunho stood in the doorway. One hand tucked into his pocket. Expression casual. The kind of casual that usually meant trouble and you immediately sighed. âNo.â
âNo what?â
âNo whatever youâre about to do.â
His smile widened as Danny looked between the two of you. Confused. Concerned. Possibly afraid. Smart man. Yunho ignored him completely. Instead he walked directly toward the coffee machine. âYou know,â he said, âI was wondering why productivity suddenly dropped on this floor.â
Danny blinked. âWhat?â
Yunho pressed a button on the machine. âOh, nothing.â The machine whirred as you narrowed your eyes. Because you knew that tone. âSo what was the cause?â Danny asked and Yunho looked over his shoulder. Smiling. âApparently extended social visits during work hours.â
You nearly laughed despite yourself. Danny looked offended. âI was grabbing files.â
âMm.â
âI was.â
âOf course.â
Danny frowned again. âYou got a problem?â Dangerous question. Very dangerous question. Because Yunhoâs smile never slipped. Not even slightly. âI donât think I said I did.â
âYou implied it.â
âI implied many things.â
Dannyâs jaw tightened as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Because this was exactly what you didnât need. Two men posturing in the break room like they were in a nature documentary. Somewhere a narrator was probably explaining mating rituals as Yunho finally turned around. Coffee in hand. Expression pleasant. Far too fucking pleasant. âHow long have you worked here now, Danny?â The younger associate frowned. âFour months.â
âInteresting.â
Danny looked even more confused. âWhat is?â
Yunho took a sip. âThe confidence.â
You closed your eyes. There it is. There was the antagonizing. Subtle enough that nobody could technically accuse him of anything. But sharp enough to draw blood. Danny folded his arms. âWhat exactly is that supposed to mean?â
Yunho grinned. God, he was annoying when he grinned like that because he looked even more attractive. âIt means four months is impressive.â Danny stared. You stared. Even Yunho seemed amused by his own answer. âYouâre impossible,â you muttered and immediately his eyes found yours. And just like that, all his attention shifted. The irritation. The jealousy. The possessiveness heâd been fighting all afternoon. Hidden again. Buried beneath that infuriating grin. âYou say the sweetest things.â
You rolled your eyes as Danny looked between the two of you. Then realization slowly crossed his face. Not complete realization. But enough. Enough to notice something was off. Enough to notice that Yunho watched you differently. Enough to notice that Yunho had entered the room focused entirely on him and somehow ended up focused entirely on you. Yunho noticed the realization too. Which was exactly why he smiled even wider. A warning disguised as amusement. Danny wasnât stupid. âRight,â Danny said awkwardly, gathering his files. âIâve got to finish those motions.â
âGood luck,â Yunho said as he left and silence settled over the room as you slowly turned toward Yunho. âWhat was that?â
âWhat was what?â
âYou know exactly what.â
âI really donât.â
âLiar.â
Yunho leaned against the counter beside you. Close enough to annoy you. Far enough to remain technically innocent. His favorite game. âI was getting coffee.â
âYou were antagonizing Danny.â
âHe seems sensitive.â
Yunho took another sip of his coffee as you took another sip of your Red Bull. The silence between you wasnât comfortable. It never was. Not because it was awkward. Because it always felt like something was happening beneath it. Some current neither of you acknowledged. Some invisible tug of war that had existed for years. You were glaring at him and Yunho seemed entirely unbothered by that fact.
âWhat?â you asked.
âWhat?â
âYouâre staring.â
His mouth twitched. âI am not.â
âYou absolutely are.â
âMaybe youâre just distracting.â
You groaned immediately. âThere he is.â
âThere who is?â
âThe worldâs most annoying attorney.â
âThank you.â
âIt wasnât a compliment.â
âIâll take what I can get.â
You rolled your eyes. A habit he was personally responsible for. For a moment neither of you moved. Then Yunhoâs expression shifted slightly. Not enough that most people wouldâve noticed. But you knew him. Youâd known him for years. You knew when he was about to say something annoying. You knew when he was about to start a fight. You knew when he was about to push your buttons just because he could. And right now? Something else flickered behind his eyes. Something sharper.
His gaze drifted toward the door Danny had disappeared through. Then back to you. âYou know heâs wants to fuck you, right?â You nearly choked on your drink. âJesus fucking Christ Yunho.â The room felt smaller all of a sudden. The air heavier. Like something had shifted. You could feel it as Yunho pushed away from the counter and took a step closer and you took another drink from your Red Bull. Mostly to give yourself something to do. Yunhoâs coffee had long been forgotten. It sat abandoned on the counter while he leaned against it beside you.
His gaze drifted over your face before he suddenly asked, âWhat happened to Kevin?â You blinked, furrowing your brows. The question caught you completely off guard. âWhat?â
âKevin.â He shrugged. âThe boyfriend. Havenât seen him come by in a while.â
You narrowed your eyes. âWhy do you know his name?â Yunho immediately realized his mistake. Because he absolutely shouldnât know his name. Not with the confidence heâd just said it. Not unless heâd been paying attention. A lot of attention. Which unfortunately he had. For years. His recovery came quickly. âHe picked you up from work like fifty times.â That was fair. Kevin had practically lived in the firmâs lobby for a year. âWhy?â Yunho looked down at his coffee. Acting casual. âNo reason.â
âHeâs gone.â
Something sharp flickered behind Yunhoâs eyes at your answer. Gone. As in gone gone. âWhen?â
âMonths ago.â That got his attention. âMonths?â You nodded. âFive.â Yunho stared at you. Five months. Youâd been single for five months. And somehow he was only finding out now. For a brief moment he wondered if heâd actually died and nobody told him. Then he remembered he was supposed to be acting normal. So instead he asked, âWhat happened?â
You sighed. The kind of sigh that carried old irritation. âHe cheated.â Yunhoâs jaw tightened. Not because he was surprised. He wasnât. Heâd known. Hell, heâd been the one who made sure you found out. An anonymous email. Photos attached. No name. No explanation. Just evidence. Enough evidence that Kevin never had a chance of talking his way out of it. To this day you had no idea who sent it and Yunho intended to keep it that way. âHe cheated,â you repeated, shaking your head. âA year and a half together and apparently that wasnât enough.â
Yunho looked away. Because if he looked directly at you right now he was going to say something reckless. Something honest. And honesty around you had always been dangerous. âYou have terrible taste in men.â The words slipped out before he could stop them and you laughed. A genuine laugh. The first one heâd heard from you in a long time. âOh, thatâs rich coming from you.â
âIâm serious.â
âYou think every guy is terrible.â
âNo.â
You tilted your head. âNo?â
Yunho looked back at you slowly. And something in his expression started shifting. Softening. Dangerously. âNo,â he said quietly. âJust the ones you date.â The laugh died in your throat and neither of you moved as Yunhoâs gaze dropped briefly. Just for a second. Taking in the skirt youâd worn that morning again. The one heâd been trying not to notice all day. Then his eyes lifted back to yours. âYou settle.â
Your eyebrows pulled together. âWhat?â
âYou settle.â His voice remained calm. âYou keep picking men who donât deserve you.â For once there wasnât a joke attached. No sarcasm. No smirk. Just honesty. Raw and unfiltered. And somehow that was far more dangerous than any of his usual flirting. He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. Almost disbelieving. As if he couldnât believe he was having this conversation. âYou know what the problem is?â
âWhat?â
His smile returned. Smaller this time. Less cocky and more personal. âThe second someone gets your attention they stop trying.â
âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
Yunho looked away briefly. Because he knew exactly what it meant. It meant he couldnât imagine taking you for granted. Couldnât imagine looking elsewhere. Couldnât imagine spending years wanting someone only to risk losing them. When he looked back at you, his gaze had darkened, something settling there you couldnât quite decipher just yet. âIf I had you in my bed every nightâŚ.â He leaned down, moving closer until his mouth was right at your ear. âno other woman would exist to me.â
Itâs like your brain just stopped computing. His words slammed into you like a truck and you had no idea how to respond to that. Especially when the feel of his lips just barely brushing your ear still lingered as a cough cleared from the doorway. Yunho backed away from you casually. Like he hadnât almost had you pinned to the counter. Mr. Jeong stood in the doorway, his gaze going back and forth. First you. Then his son. Then back again with a hint of amusement. âAm I interrupting something.â
âNot at all.â Yunho picked his coffee back up. âI was just asking Y/N if sheâs coming to my place tonight so we can start briefing and going over our new case.â He looked way too smug. âExcuse me?â You broke out of your daze quickly, glaring at him. âI am not going over alone to your place. We can go to my place. My roommate will be home but he shouldnât bother us.â Roommate. Yunho knew exactly who you were talking about. Wooyoung. Yunho had seen him visiting you a few different times back in law school. He also brought you lunch sometimes now. Always had thick eyeliner. Tattoos. A wicked little smirk he liked to throw at anyone who piqued interest.
âSounds like a plan.â Yunho grinned again and his father gave you both one last look before walking away. You groaned. Last thing you needed was to be alone or semi alone with Yunho outside of work.
âI need you to stay home tonight.â You were practically begging into your phone. Wooyoung snorted obviously intrigued and confused. âAnd here I was planning to get my back blown out tonight.â
âWoo, Iâm serious.â You hissed and looked up catching Yunho in his office through the glass wall. He noticed you and smirked and had the audacity to wave at you. âLookâŚ. I have this new case. Itâs a big one andâŚ..â You paused. Hesitated. âI have to⌠I have to do it with Yunho.â The silence on the other end of the call was deafening for one second. Two. Three. Four. âOH MY GOD!â Wooyoung laughed, actually cackled. âYouâre kidding me. Youâve wanted to climb that man like a tree since law school.â
âI HAVE NOT.â You didnât mean to yell. One of the newer attorneys passing by your office jumped at your outburst which to your luck also caught Yunhoâs attention. âI have not.â You repeated much lower this time and you could practically hear Wooyoung roll his through the phone. âPlease.â He scoffed. âYou told me yourself that you and I quote, want to choke him with that annoying tie and make him beg for it.â
You gasped. âI was drunk.â You hissed. It was on Wooyoungâs birthday. Right after you left your ex. Turns out all your dirty little secrets werenât so secret with tequila in your system. âDrunk words are true thoughts or whatever.â Wooyoung said and you just know he was grinning. âI hate him!â You snapped which at this point wasnât true at all. He annoyed you most the time. Made you question whether you wanted to slam his face into a wall or drop to your knees. And after Mr. Jeong told you to give his son a chanceâŚ. No. Absolutely not.
âIf you hate him that just means the sex will be amazing.â Wooyoung was enjoying this way too much. âThere will be no sex.â You immediately regretted saying that because of course. Of course! The devil himself was leaning in your office doorway, brow raised looking far too amused at whatever parts of the conversation he was picking up. âJust be home.â You told Wooyoung before ending the call and clearing your throat. âWhat do you want? Other than eavesdropping.â
Yunho let out a laugh under his breath and that sound immediately made you suspicious. âWhat?â You narrowed your eyes at him. âNothing.â He shrugged but he was smiling too smugly for your liking. âYouâre smiling.â
âAm I?â
âYou are literally smiling.â
His grin only widened. Which meant he was absolutely about to be annoying. Wonderful. Fan fucking tastic. You crossed your arms. âSpit it out, Jeong.â Yunho tilted his head slightly, that damned silver blonde hair falling across his forehead as his gaze flicked briefly toward your phone before returning to you. âWell,â he said casually, âI just found one part of that conversation particularly interesting.â
Your stomach dropped and you muttered under your breath. You were going to kill Wooyoung. And Yunho. âOh no.â
âOh yes.â His smile sharpened. âThe part where you informed whoever that was that there would be no sex.â Heat immediately flooded your face. âJesus Fucking Christ Yunho.â You were starting to wish you got paid for every time he got that out of you.
âSo there was sex on the table at some point?â
âThere was never sex on the table.â
âInteresting wording.â
âYunho.â
âJust asking questions.â
âYou are a lawyer. You get paid to twist words.â
âTrue.â His eyes sparkled with amusement. âStill doesnât answer my question.â You stared at him, eye twitching and he just stared right back. Completely shameless. And the worst part? He looked unfairly good doing it. You hated that your brain insisted on being horny every time he was around. You pointed toward the door. âGet out.â
Yunho laughed. A real one. Warm and Low. And unfortunately dangerously attractive. âSee, now Iâm curious.â
âYou should be billing hours.â
âI am billing hours.â
âYou are standing in my office harassing me.â
âMultitasking.â
âThat isnât how billing works.â
âIt is when youâre talented.â
You made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a threat and Yunhoâs grin somehow widened further. Then, unfortunately, his gaze drifted lower. Only for a second once again. But you caught it. The way his eyes flicked over the way your skirt rode up from sitting and your pulse did something stupid.
âSo,â he said.
âNo.â
âYou donât even know what I was going to say.â
âI know enough.â
His eyes narrowed playfully. âYou know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an impressive amount of energy thinking about me.âYou nearly choked. âExcuse me?â You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Immediately. Right now. âIâm just wonderingâŚ..â You immediately cut him off. âAbout what?â His gaze held yours. âWhether youâve really hated me all these years.â The question caught you off guard. And for a moment the office felt quieter. The sounds of phones ringing and conversations outside seeming farther away. You looked away first. A big mistake on your part. Because Yunho noticed everything. He always had. A slow smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. âThere it is.â
âThere what is?â You snapped.
âYou didnât answer.â
You hated that he was right. You hated it even more because you werenât entirely sure what the answer was anymore as Yunho pushed away from the doorway. âSee you at your place.â He turned to walk back to his office. The two of you only had an hour before you got off. âYou donât even know where I live.â You called after him and Yunho didnât even glance back as he answered.
The entire drive home was torture. Not because of traffic. Not because downtown Chicago was a nightmare at six oâclock. But because every single red light gave your brain more time to replay the conversation and how Yunho asked whether youâve really hated him all these years. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.
Seven years of knowing Yunho Jeong and somehow that stupid question had managed to lodge itself directly inside your skull. Youâd spent years calling him arrogant. Annoying. Insufferable. None of those things were technically lies. But lately⌠things felt different. And you hated that.
By the time you pulled into the parking garage beneath your apartment building,you had a headache. Perfect. Exactly what you needed before spending an entire evening trapped with Yunho. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and headed upstairs and the second you stepped through the apartment door, the smell hit you. Pizza. You closed your eyes. Thank God.
âKitchen.â Wooyoungâs voice carried through the apartment as you kicked off your heels near the door and followed it. Sure enough, Wooyoung was leaning against the kitchen island wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, a slice of pepperoni in one hand while two pizza boxes sat open on the counter. His eyes immediately found you and narrowed. âOh.â
You froze. âWhat?â
Wooyoung pointed his pizza at you. âYouâre spiraling.â
âI am not.â
âYou absolutely are.â
You dropped your bag onto one of the stools. âIâm fine.â Wooyoung laughed as he took a bite. âLiar.â
âIâm not lying.â
âYou walked into this apartment like someone just told you the IRS was outside.â
You glared at him as Wooyoung took another bite. Still staring. Still judging. Still entirely too observant for your liking. Then his eyes widened like a lightbulb went off in his head. âOh my God.â You immediately regretted everything. âWhat now?â
âYou really do want him.â
âNo.â
âYOU DO.â
âI DONâT.â
Wooyoung practically slapped the counter. âYou do.â
âI donât.â
âYou do.â
âI donât.â
âYou literally sound twelve.â
You grabbed a paper plate. âIâm getting pizza.â Wooyoung gasped at you. âYou are avoiding the conversation.â You shook your head as you grabbed two slices. âIâm hungry.â You shoved a slice into your mouth as Wooyoung folded his arms then smirked. A dangerous smirk. The kind that usually meant somebodyâs life was about to become significantly more difficult. âDid something happen?â
âNo.â
âYou hesitated.â
âI did not.â
âYou absolutely did.â
You sighed dramatically. Because unfortunately something had happened. Not a big thing. Not really. Just enough things. Enough tiny moments. Enough comments. Enough looks. Enough questions. Enough of Yunho being⌠Yunho. And now your brain refused to shut up about it. Refused to forget the way his lips felt grazing your earâŚ. Wooyoungâs eyes narrowed further. âWhat did he say?â You stared at your pizza. Bad sign. Very bad sign. Because now Wooyoung looked genuinely interested. âOh, this is serious.â
You chewed at your pizza, hesitant before swallowing. âHe told me⌠he told me if heâŚâ you could still hear the way his voice had dropped when he said it. âIf he had me in bed every night then⌠no other woman would exist to him.â The silence was loud because Wooyoung was never silent and somehow nowâŚ. he was speechless. You watched him blink. Once. Twice. Then he slowly set his pizza down on the counter. âOh.â
You hated that response. âWhat?â
âNothing.â
âWoo.â
âNothing.â
âWooyoung.â
His eyes snapped back to yours. âY/N.â You narrowed your eyes at him. âWhy are you looking at me like that?â He grinned. âBecause I think I just witnessed the moment your life became a romantic comedy. A very hot romantic comedy.â You groaned. âOh my God. Shut up.â
âNo, seriously.â He pointed at you. âDo you have any idea how insane that is. He was flirting. Practically throwing himself at you.â You shook your head in complete denial. âHe was not.â
âYes he was.â
âNo he wasnât.â
Wooyoung stared at you a second before shaking his head. âJesus Christ.â You groaned. âWhat now?â He rolled his eyes in pure exasperation. âYou really donât see it.â Your brows furrowed, your voice muffled around the bite of pizza. âSee what?â
âThe fact that Yunho Jeong has been down catastrophically bad for you since law school.â
You choked a little and pointed your pizza at him. âDonât say that.â
âMake me.â
âYou are impossible.â
âAgain,â Wooyoung said, âhe practically through himself at you.â
âHe did not.â
âY/N.â
âHe did not.â
âY/N.â
You groaned loudly. Because the problem wasnât that Wooyoung was wrong. The problem was that for the first time⌠you werenât entirely convinced he was. Your gaze drifted toward the clock on the microwave. Yunho would be here soon. And suddenly the thought of being alone with him felt very different than it had this earlier. Dangerously different.
You quickly finished eating your pizza and didnât even glance at Wooyoung as you headed towards the bathroom. âIâm getting a shower before Satan gets here.â The bathroom door slammed shut behind you. Your clothes came off achingly slow. You sat your phone on the sink counter, letting music play to try and clear your head. Steam poured into the room as the water rushed out the shower head. Scolding and too hot. You adjusted it and stepped in letting the water try and fail to wash away your spiraling thoughts.
âHe was not throwing himself at me.â You didnât believe yourself anymore though. Because in the comfort of the shower you started to think. How in law school Yunho would always been standing outside your civil procedure class and would finally go in once you showed up. How he once brought handed you coffee on graduation day because he happened to have an extra but it tasted like your favorite. How he mentioned his dadâs law firm had an opening and you thought he was trying to annoy you and then next day you got a call from Mr. Jeong himselfâŚ..
âOh my godâŚâ you stopped washing your hair as the realization slammed into you. âhe was throwing himself at me.â Holy shit. It should have been obvious. Your heart was pounding now because Yunho on his way over. You were both about to spend insane amounts of time together in the near future for this case. And he likes you. âFuck!â You almost slipped, your hand shooting out your grab at the shower curtain.
What were you supposed to do? What if you were crazy? Imagining it? What if Wooyoung had gotten inside your head? But even as the thoughts came, they felt weaker. Less convincing. Because the truth was becoming impossible to ignore. The truth was that this wasnât just physical anymore. Wasnât just finding him attractive. Wasnât just noticing the way his suits fit. Or the way his hair fell into his eyes. Or the way his voice always seemed lower when he spoke directly to you.
Somewhere along the way, something had changed. Something dangerous. Something that made your pulse race every time he looked at you too long. Something that made the thought of him showing up at your front door feel terrifying and exciting all at once.
You closed your eyes. And finally admitted the thing youâd been avoiding for years. âShit.â Because the problem wasnât that Yunho liked you. The problem was that you liked him too. Because now every want and needy thought youâve ever had about him shifted from just physical attraction to something else. Something crazy. Completely and totally insane. âOh my god.â You wanted him too and that realization refused to leave.
Even after you finished washing your hair. Even after you stood beneath the spray for another five minutes pretending your life hadnât just completely unraveled. By the time you finally shut the water off, your fingers were wrinkled and your thoughts were somehow worse. âGreat.â You grabbed a towel. âFantastic.â You wrapped another towel around your hair as you stepped out of the shower. âWonderful.â The mirror was fogged over completely. Which was probably for the best. You didnât need to see the expression on your own face right now.
Because apparently after seven years of arguing with Yunho, you had finally realized you had feelings for him. Feelings. Actual feelings. You wanted to throw yourself out a window. But unfortunately you lived on the eighteenth floor. You tightened the towel around yourself and stormed toward the door. This was Wooyoungâs fault. Entirely his fault. If heâd just kept his mouth shut, youâd still be blissfully ignorant. Or trying to be anyways.
The second the bathroom door opened, you were already talking. âThis is your fault.â You marched into the hallway. âYou couldnât just mind your own business for once in your life.â The living room came into view. âAnd now I have to spend the entire evening pretending I donât have feelings forâŚ.â You screamed. The kind of scream usually reserved for horror movies and home invasions. Because Yunho was sitting on your couch now looking equally startled for approximately half a second before he started laughing.
âOh my God!â Your hand flew to your chest, gripping your towel. âWhat the fuck are you doing here?â Across the room, Wooyoung was absolutely useless. In fact, he looked delighted. âThere she is!â You glared at your best friend before your gaze snapped back toward Yunho. Which was a mistake. A huge mistake. Because somehow seeing him outside the office felt different. The charcoal suit jacket was gone. Tossed over the back of the couch. His tie hung loose around his neck. The top button of his white dress shirt had disappeared. The sleeves were pushed up to his forearms. And somehow that looked more intimate than if heâd shown up wearing nothing but sweatpants.
You hated that thought immediately as Yunhoâs eyes flicked over you, dragging down and staring at where the fluffy pink towel you had ended just barely covering anything. Then he looked directly at the ceiling and a muscle jumped in his jaw. And of course Wooyoung noticed. The bastard looked like Christmas had come early. âYou know,â Wooyoung said casually, âmost people greet guests when they arrive.â
âI was in the shower!â
âClearly.â
You groaned. Because somehow this day had gone from bad to catastrophic. And the worst part? The absolute worst part? Youâd just spent twenty minutes realizing you had feelings for Yunho. Then immediately walked into your living room wearing nothing but a towel. Wooyoung looked between the two of you grinning as you backed toward the hallway, tightening your grip on the towel again. âIâm getting dressed.â
âProbably for the best,â Wooyoung agreed and you glared at him. Then at Yunho. Then immediately regretted looking at Yunho because he was already looking at you. âFive minutes,â you muttered before disappearing down the hall and into your room and slamming the door behind you.
Silence settled over the apartment. Or at least it should have. Instead, Yunho found himself staring at the wall. His brain had stopped cooperating somewhere around the moment youâd walked into the living room. Not because of the towel. Well. Not entirely because of the towel. It was the fact that youâd looked completely caught off guard. Completely real. Not the sharp tongued attorney who spent every workday arguing with him. Not the woman who could dismantle opposing counsel with a single question.
Just you.
Then his mind drifted. The way when you had turned around he could see a glimpse of your ass peaking from the bottom of the towel. âWell,â Wooyoungâs voice snapped him out of it. âIâm going to my room. I have a new seasonâŚ.â Yunho stopped listening again as Wooyoung disappeared down the same hall you had. Heâs wanted you for seven years. Obsessed over you. Yearned over you. Might of moaned your name a few times during one night stands. And now he was sitting here in your apartment and had the perfect opportunity to finally try and have you. âShit.â Why did he feel nervous? He doesnât get nervous.
The apartment felt strangely quiet when you stepped back into the hallway. For a moment you simply stood there. Yunho was exactly where youâd left him. Sitting on the couch. One arm stretched across the back cushion. The case file sitting untouched on the coffee table. And he was staring at absolutely nothing. Lost somewhere inside his own head. Youâd never known Yunho to be quiet.
The floor creaked beneath your foot and his head turned. And immediately his eyes found you. His gaze dropped before he could stop it. Legs. Bare from mid thigh down. Your black shorts doing nothing to cover them. His jaw tightened and his eyes immediately snapped back to yours. And for the first time all day, Yunho looked caught. Actually caught. Not cocky. Not smug. Caught.
Something about that made your stomach flip. âNice staring,â you called him out and his eyebrow lifted. âNice outfit.â You rolled your eyes. âThere he is.â He grinned, eyes lighting up. âMissed me?â
âNot even a little.â
âLiar.â The word came automatically. Like breathing. Like every conversation youâd ever had together. Yet somehow tonight it felt different. Softer and more familiar. Your gaze drifted toward the coffee table. Toward the thick litigation folder sitting there. Thank God. Something normal. âDid you at least bring the case file?â Yunho followed your gaze and let out a quiet laugh. âI did.â
âGood.â
âLook at us.â
You frowned. âWhat?â
âBeing responsible.â
âWeâre attorneys.â
âDebatable.â
You snorted before you could stop yourself and Yunhoâs expression immediately brightened. Like heâd just won something. Idiot. You hesitated another second before finally crossing the room. Every step felt weirdly loud and noticeable. The couch suddenly looked much smaller than it was. You hated that. You hated it even more because Yunho seemed perfectly relaxed. Until you sat down. Then his entire body went subtly rigid. The cushion dipped beneath your weight, thigh ending up far closer to his than either of you probably expected.
The scent of your shampoo drifted through the air as you reached forward grabbing the case file before your brain could focus on anything else. âOkay,â you said, opening it onto your lap. âWork.â
âWork,â Yunho agreed. The word sounded strangely disappointed but you ignored that as you flipped hrough the first few pages. âCorporate fraud.â
âMm.â
âThousands of pages of discovery.â
âMm.â
You glanced over but Yunho wasnât looking at the file. He was looking at you. You cleared your throat finding it harder now to focus on anything other than your newly accepted feelings for him. âSoâŚâ you looked back towards the file, scanning words but not reading any of them. âthis is a pretty big caseâŚâ
âI want you.â
You froze and you could practically hear the panic in Yunhoâs voice. âShitâŚâ he did not mean to say that out loud. Not like that. âI meanâŚ. I uhâŚâ he shook his head. Because fuck it. âActuallyâŚ. Yeah. I want you. Fuck.â He let out a humorless laugh. âItâs driving me crazy for the better part of a decade.â When he looked at you, you were still staring at the file. Frozen. Shocked. âLookâŚ. I know youâŚ. Kind of hate me. I meanâŚ. I doâŚâ
âI donât hate you.â Your voice was quiet, heart beating so loud you were sure Wooyoung could hear it from his room. Because Wooyoung was right. Your shower spiraling was right. Yunho had feelings for you. âI donât think I ever hated you. You could just beâŚ. a pain in the ass.â Yunho snorted despite his confession making him nervous. âI was only like that because I never wanted someone like that before. And I couldnât afford distractions in law school. So I⌠tried blocking you out⌠it just made it worse.â
You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. âSo you just decided to be like some third grader pulling at my pigtails.â He laughed then. A full on real laugh. âSomething like that.â You scoffed, shaking your head. âYouâre an absolute idiot.â It got silent for a moment. You both just stared at each other until Yunho looked away. âIdiot might be understatement. IâŚ. thereâs something you should know.â He hesitated. Because what he was about to say was probably gonna make actually hate him. But he couldnât shoot his shot without the truth being out. Otherwise it would eat him alive.
âWhat is it?â You furrowed because he liked serious. Like what he had to say was more serious than his arguments defending anyone in court. âI knew your boyfriend cheated on you. I saw himâŚâ
âIt was you.â You cut him off. Of course it was Yunho. He never could mind his own business. âYou sent me that email. The picturesâŚ.. what you justâŚ. followed him?â Yunho scoffed like he was offended. âI didnât follow anyone.â He shrugged. âI hired a private investigator.â
âOh my godâŚâ you laughed. Because what were you supposed to say? Were you meant to be mad? Mad that he caught your boyfriend cheating and found a somewhat weird to tell you? âyouâre obsessed with me.â You were joking. Kind of. Mainly teasing but Yunho didnât deny. In fact his demeanor shifted. He sat up, and when his gaze met yours againâŚ. it had darkened. Sharpened into something heated and hungry that made your stomach twist and your thighs to almost clench together.
âI told youâŚâ the tone of his voice had dropped. Which was dangerous. Because Yunhoâs voice was already deep. Intoxicating if you will. But right nowâŚ.. you couldnât help but remember the break room and that same tone against yourâŚ. âthat if you had me in your bed no other woman would exist to you.â You finished for him and it was like all that tension that built for the last seven years snapped.
âWrong.â Yunhoâs gaze dropped to your legs, taking his time to work his way up, pausing at your lips and staying there. âNo other woman exist to me since that first day you told me to fuck off.â
You knew the two of you should probably talk. Actually talk. Go over everything. Have that real, I like you, you like me, speechâŚ. but you were over it. Seven years of him driving you crazy. Seven years of him obsessing over youâŚ. your own gaze fell to the loose tie around his neck and you remembered that little drunk confession you gave Wooyoung.
âWhat are youâŚ.â Yunho froze when you reached out and grabbed his tie. You gripped it, thumb rubbing against the material. âYou want to know what I was talking aboutâŚ. when you were eavesdropping at work?â You looked at him and your gaze was almost as dark and hungry as his. Yunho gulped, remembering that phone call. He hadnât heard much other than you proclaiming no sex. âWooyoung was reminding me of a dirty little secret.â
âYeah?â Yunho was gone. He was gone the second you grabbed his tie. You could tell him to get on the floor right now and bark me he probably would. Because the way youâre looking at him. Like youâre imagining every detail of him under his clothes. Like you could see his dick twitch in his pants when you tugged his tie a little. âMhm.â You started scooting closer on the couch, your thigh brushing against his leg now. âApparently I told him I wanted to choke you with this tieâ you gave his tie another tug for emphasis. âand make you beg for it.â
You both just stared at each other for a moment before leaned his head back, let out a groan and then looked back at you completely undone. âFuck me.â He grabbed you, your grip on his tie tightening as he pulled you into his lap. Your lips met messy. Desperately. Needy. You moaned into because now you could feel him. Feel the bulge in his pants where his dick had started getting hard the second you grabbed his tie. Could feel his dick twitch when your tongues collided. And you moaned when he pulled back just enough to start kissing down your neck, lips grasping at any skin available within the tank top you had on.
âFuckâŚâ Yunho was the one moaning now as you kept your grip on his tie and started rocking, grinding. His dick aching in his pants as you rode him. âYou gonna beg for me, Yunho?â He wanted to say no. It was instinct. He never begged before in his life. He always had control. But for youâŚ. âMake me.â
âI bet you donât last two minutes.â You said it so sure of yourself and that alone made him want to give in. He watched you, pupils blown, dick practically screaming to be let out and buried inside you already. You reached down with the free hand that wasnât still gripping his tie and palmed him through his pants. His bulge alone was big and you could only imagine what he had zipped up underneath. And Yunho? He just sat there, his breath already uneven as your fingers worked at his belt and zipper with deliberate slowness.
The apartment around you felt charged, the spring air from Chicago filtering through a cracked window doing little to cool the heat building between your bodies. You tugged his pants and underwear down just enough, freeing his dick. It sprang out, thick and heavy, the tip already flushed and aching with a bead of precum that caught the low light.
A low groan rumbled from his chest the moment your hand wrapped around him, and you felt it twitch hard against your palm, pulsing with need as if it had a mind of its own. You stroked him once, twice, dragging your thumb over the slit to spread that slickness, savoring how his hips jerked forward involuntarily. His tie remained clenched in your other hand, anchoring him in place while you worked him in unhurried strokes that made his thighs tense and his knees weaken slightly. Every vein along his length throbbed under your grip, the heat of him radiating into your skin as you took your time exploring every inch.
You shifted closer on the couch, using the head of his dick to hook the edge of your shorts and panties and with a slow push, you moved the fabric aside, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air. Instead of taking him inside you, you guided him between your folds, letting the length glide along your slick. The underside of his dick pressing right against your clit as you rocked your hips, using him like a toy to rub slow circles. Each pass sent sparks through you, your grip on his tie tightening while your strokes on him matched the rhythm.
Yunho's jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck standing out as he fought to stay still, but his dick kept twitching between your folds, leaking more with every glide. You could feel the way his tip caught just slightly on your entrance before sliding up again, teasing without entering, building that unbearable friction against your swollen clit. His breathing grew ragged, eyes locked on where your bodies met, pupils blown wide with the effort of holding back as you kept the pace torturously steady, riding the length of him without letting him slip in, your clit grinding down on the ridge of his tip again and again in deliberate, dragging motions that made your own thighs quiver.
The wet sounds of your arousal coating him filled the room, mixing with his soft curses under his breath. âFuck sweetheart..â His control frayed at the edges with every pass, shoulders rigid, fingers digging into the couch cushions as he resisted the urge to thrust up into you. You edged him mercilessly, slowing your strokes whenever his dick pulsed too hard, drawing out the moment until the tension built in his body like a coiled spring. The pressure mounted in your own core too, each glide pushing you closer until your own orgasm hit. Your thighs shook, a soft cry escaping as you came against him, slick coating him further and dripping down him. That was when he broke.
âFuck⌠please ok! Please let me fuck you,â Yunho gasped out, voice strained and desperate, his hands trembling as they gripped your hips. And the second you nodded, he moved. Strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he stood. He didnât wait, didnât tease, he lined up and impaled you down onto his dick in one deep thrust. The stretch burned in the best way, forcing a sharp cry from your throat as he filled you completely, thick and unyielding, your walls clenching around every inch of him.
He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then his fingers dug into your thighs and he started pounding up into you. Each thrust drove deep, the force making your body bounce against him while you clung to his tie and shoulders like a lifeline. The living room filled with the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and there was no way Wooyoung wasnât hearing all of this with the way your moans grew louder until you screamed his name, your pussy clenching hard as you squirted around him, soaking his dick and thighs in a rush of release that stained dripped and stained the carpet below you.
âWhich one is your bedroom?â Yunho asked, his voice hoarse with need. Still buried inside you, âtheâŚ. one on the right down the hallâŚâ you were breathless as he carried you there without pulling out, every step making him shift and press deeper, his dick nudging against sensitive spots and wedging against your g spot that had you gasping. He wasted no time getting you on the bed, his gaze catching site of the mirror angled perfectly toward it and grinned, dark and hungry as you both made quick haste of getting your clothes off, tossing them aside until nothing remained between you.
He grabbed you, pulling your body flush to his. âLook at the mirror,â he ordered, sinking to his knees between your legs. âWatch how I make you beg for it.â His tongue thrusted into your pussy in firm, wet strokes that had you arching instantly. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging at the bleached strands as the pleasure built fast and sharp. Your legs shook, cries spilling out, âfuckâŚ. Yunho⌠please⌠please make me comeâŚ. I needâŚâ you started grinding against his face and he didnât let up until you shattered again, body trembling and pulsing around his tongue.
Yunho kissed his way back up your body, slow and deliberate, pausing when you eyed his dick and he smirked. âIf you want a taste all you have to do is take it.â You shook your head, pulling him closer. âNext time,â you breathed, needing him inside you again too badly to wait. Too impatient for it. âFuckâŚâ he had to hold back from saying, Fuck I love you, instead, he flipped you onto your stomach, holding you down and positioning you to face the mirror.
The head of his dick teased between your pussy and ass, sliding back and forth in lazy passes that made you whimper and push back. After a minute of that torment he sank back into you with a single thrust, your walls instantly clenching around him as one of his hands fisted in your hair, tilting your head toward the reflection of the mirror. The sight of him over you, buried inside you staring back a painted sin. âWatchâŚ. watch how my dick is about to make you mine.â
He started fucking you hard, hips snapping forward in deep, relentless strokes that had you babbling, begging, âharderâŚ. harderâŚ.. deeper⌠Yunho pleaseâŚâ and he gave it to you. Hands gripping your waist, hard, as he grinded into you, âyou feel so fucking good, sweetheartâŚ.â he paused for a moment just to feel you clenching around him, then, just as the pressure peaked, he pulled out and flipped you and folded you a little, your legs pressed up and over his shoulders.
He tapped his dick against your clit a few times before sinking back in, his hands moving your legs to pin your thighs down as you watched in the mirror as you started squirting again, making a mess over both of you. Ruining the new sheets you only bought a few days ago after Wooyoung spilled his iced coffee on your others. The sight spurred him on, his pace turning brutal. âYouâre mine. Pussy⌠mine. All of you. Mine.â Maybe he was a little possessive.
Your back arched as another orgasm crashed through you, sobs and cries tearing free but Yunho didnât stop. He kept pounding, chasing his own release until he buried himself deep and came with a groan, filling you until he you milked him almost dry then he collapsed on top of you, still buried inside, his weight comforting as you rubbed slow circles over his back, a soft chuckle escaping you. âYou begged for it.â He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes with a satisfied grin curving his own lips.
The next morning felt strange. Not bad strange. But an awkward kind of strange. For seven years, you and Yunho had existed in this bizarre limbo of arguments, tension, stolen glances, and denial. Now, after finally tearing down every wall between you, you were somehow expected to walk into Jeong & Partners and act normal. Which was proving significantly harder than either of you anticipated. Especially because Yunho was terrible at it.
âYou are wearing the same suit.â
Yunho looked over from the driverâs seat. âSo?â He hadnât even gone home last night. After he had finally pulled himself out of you, you took another shower, that lead to you dropping to your knees and finally getting him in your mouth. Had an amused and smug little told you so looks thrown at you from Wooyoung. Slept together which lead you to find out that Yunho liked being the little spoon which was beyond hilarious with his size. Then he gave you no argument in letting him drive you both to work in his ridiculously expensive Mercedes.
You stared at him. âPeople will know.â Not that you really cared. âAnd?â And apparently Yunho didnât either. You looked at him as pulled into the law firm parking garage and when he looked back at you after parking, you both burst out laughing.
Five minutes later, the elevator doors opened onto the twentieth floor and immediately, something felt off. Not wrong. Just⌠observant. Associates looked up from their desks. Assistants paused mid conversation. Even the receptionist seemed suspiciously interested in her computer screen. Nobody knew anything. But somehow everybody knew something.
You stepped out first with Yunho a few feet behind you. Both of you trying very hard to appear casual. Which probably wouldâve worked if Yunho didnât keep looking at you every thirty seconds as you headed toward your office. And you almost made it. But then Yunhoâs eyes narrowed. Because across the floor, Danny appeared. Coffee in hand. Making a direct path toward you just like every morning. Only this morning was different. Because this morning, Yunhoâs patience had completely disappeared.
Danny slowed as Yunho walked straight past him. Past several confused associates. Past two paralegals who immediately stopped pretending to work. Then he reached you and you barely had time to speak before his hand wrapped around your wrist. âWhat are you doing?â
âOne second.â
âYunho.â
He ignored you completely as he turned you toward him and kissed you. Right there in the middle of the litigation department. The entire floor collectively forgot how to breathe and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, a grin tugging at his mouth. Possessive and completely unrepentant. And entirely too pleased with himself.
âMine,â he murmured softly and your face immediately flushed. âYunhoâŚ.â
âJust reminding you.â Then his eyes shifted past you. Right towards the frozen associate still holding two coffees. Yunho smiled bright and friendly. And definitely cocky. âMorning, Danny.â
Danny looked like someone had personally unplugged his soul. And without another word, Yunho straightened his jacket and continued walking toward his office as if he hadnât just detonated a bomb in the middle of the firm. The silence lasted approximately three seconds. Then chaos erupted. Across the floor, associates started whispering. Phones appeared. Someone actually dropped a stack of files.
And from behind the glass walls of the managing offices, Mr. Jeong looked up from a contract. Watched his son disappear into his office. Watched you standing there frozen. Watched Danny questioning every life decision heâd ever made. Then the older man leaned back in his chair and shook his head, muttering to himself.
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đ¤ď¸ď¸ wooyoung x fem!reader | college au, mini-series, part 8/?
đ¤ď¸ď¸ 18+ | 7.2k words | reader is the host of a sex podcast, wooyoung is a frat boy whore, yunho is an angel sent from god above
ITâS BEEN WEEKS SINCE YOUâVE woken up beside someone else. Maybe even longer, the last time you slept at Yeonjunâs you didnât even wake up beside him, you woke up alone in a cold bed that wasnât your own. You forgot how much you missed it, the warmth of having a man beside you, skin touching yours that wasnât purposeful, instead unconscious, like even in his sleep he wanted to be close to you. Couldnât stand being far.
Ease washes over you at the sight. Head turned to the side, hair like white gold sprawled across his forehead, the pearly expanse of his chest rising and lowering softly, steadily. So peaceful, so fulfilling, your heart beats with happiness. A couple weeks ago you couldnât imagine a life without Yeonjun. Yesterday morning you questioned everything you knew about yourself. But this morning, right now, sunlight seeping in through the cracks of your blinds, streaks of gold warming your skin, something inside you feels settled.
âStop staring, creeper,â he mumbles, without even cracking an eye open. Your smile is immediate, silly and widespread and involuntary. Nestled in the crook of his elbow, your arms bent up between your front and his side, you wonder if you slept like this all night. If you were so comfortable, so sated, you didnât move at all.
âBut youâre so pretty,â your voice is dreamy, airy with every single shred of joy warming your skin. âI should be allowed to stare.â
His smile forms before his head turns toward you, blinking his eyes open, his other arm coming up to run his long fingers through his hair. âFine, youâre allowed,â his morning timbre is rough, ragged, and it reminds you of every groan and grunt he uttered last night. âBut only if I get to stare back.â
âNot at the same time, weirdo,â you laugh, turning your head, hiding from his eyes by digging your face into his strong, soft bicep. He turns, his other arm wrapping around you, planting a kiss to the top of your head.
You both lay there for what should have been an hour in silence, taking in the feeling of one another, the slow quiet of morning. Itâs a Saturday, and you picked up someoneâs shift tonight, so you revel in the peace, the stillness, the smell of his skin, refusing to think about what the day will look like, anything outside of what it feels like to be in his arms.
Until he yawns, his body stretching over you, legs and arms extending to the length of your bed, vertically and horizontally. You moan, âNo, donât go. Stretching means youâre getting up.â
He huffs a noise of amusement in the wake of his yawn, âWe canât lay here forever.â
âYes we can,â you argue, peeking up at him over your brows. His eyes are closed, head tilted, chest on display again. Your fingers move without your mind telling them to, tracing over his skin, his torso, his collarbones.Â
His hand closes over yours, sitting as one on the center of his chest. âLetâs get breakfast.â
âIf you want to,â you mumble, words embodying a pout.
âDo you want to?â he asks, looking down at you again. âWe can make breakfast here, if youâd rather do that.â
You nod, not quite ready to face the rest of the world yet. You want to stay in your perfect, comfortable bubble, away from eyes and questions and thoughts. You donât want to think at all. Yunho turns again, making a show of tucking your body into his chest, his strong arm wrapping around your back, pulling you into him. You laugh, especially when he throws his leg over yours, like heâs cocooning you, hiding you with his own bare body.
âI canât breathe,â you try, muffled by his skin against your mouth, laughter thatâs still pouring out of you.
You can hear his grin, âToo bad, conserve your air.â Your tongue peeks out from between your lips, licking a swipe along his chest that really just ends up wetting your chin because he squeezes you harder. âDid you think thatâd make me let you go? Spit?â
âYunho,â you laugh, disguised as a whine. âPlease?â
He sighs, âSince you asked so nicely.â He loosens his grip, letting you come up for air, his grin stupid as you suck down a breath.
âYou tried to kill me,â you point your gaze. âThatâs fucked up. I thought you liked me.â
âI do like you,â he answers simply. âSo much that I just had cuteness aggression. Is it fucked up now?â
âKinda,â you murmur, voice tiny. âWhat do you like to eat for breakfast? Iâm not a great cook but I can definitely try.â
âCooking is, like, one of my only four skills.â He steals his arm from beneath your head, sliding it under his own, elbow propped up on the mattress. âLet me cook for you.â
Your brows furrow at the argument. âBut weâre at my apartment.â
âSo?â he asks, his own blonde brows furrowing.Â
You donât really have an argument, so instead you ask, âWhat are the other three?â
âI can fix shit, Iâm a good talker, and Iâm a pretty good fuck.â You blink at him for a second before erupting into laughter. His smile grows, âWhat? Theyâre all true, no?â
âIâll call you when I need shelves built,â you start, still giggling. âThen you can stay to fuck me.â
âDonât forget talking,â he raises a finger between you. âIâm a good mediator, too.â
âSo you break up fights in your frat house?â
âWe donât fight,â Yunho answers, certainly. âBut if we did, Iâd be there making them hug it out.â
âYouâre stupid,â you shake your head, still smiling. âGo cook for me.â
âNo please?â His brows raise. âWe need to work on your manners, sunshine.â
You put an amused emphasis into your following, âPlease.â Then you ask, âSunshine?â
âThatâs you.â He rolls away from you, pulling the sheets off, standing beside your bed in all his naked glory. You stare, watching the muscles in his body flex, his back, his arms, his thighs. And between his legs⌠just as damning in the daytime. Like he can feel your eyes, the corner of his lips tug upward, âAh, now I see why you didnât want me to get up.â
âNo,â you quickly argue, tugging the sheets back up to cover your body, cheeks suddenly flaming. âIâm just⌠appreciating.â He laughs as he tugs his sweatpants up his legs, then looks around your bedroom floor, clearly on the hunt for his shirt. âIn the living room.â
âRight,â he nods, lips pursing together before he leaves your bedroom. Just like that.
You sigh, turning to lay on your back, staring up at your ceiling. You feel like you havenât given yourself any time to just be. You had two weeks to mourn Yeonjun, but just two nights ago you were close to yet another heartbreak, this time with yourself. You donât know who you are anymore, what you want, what you need. Your eyes slide to your open bedroom door, listening to the footsteps in your kitchen, the man whoâs already made himself at home. Maybe heâll know.
You push yourself up off your bed, having to actually go through your drawers for a tee and shorts instead of picking something up from the floor. You ignore him by running to the bathroom, fixing yourself up a bit before meeting him back in the kitchen where he was actually cooking with ingredients and pans and spices you didnât even know you had.
âOh,â you mutter in surprise, taking in your full countertops. âYou werenât kidding.â
If he forgot or got sidetracked, you werenât sure, but his sweats hang low, still shirtless, showing off his torso that makes your thighs twitch without consent. So tall and sculpted, a dream, and heâs cooking for you. For you.
âIâm serious about my skills,â he points toward you with a spatula, making you smile. âNot a jack of all trades, but a master of four.â
âThen Iâm in luck,â you say over your shoulder, opening up your fridge, pulling out a pitcher of iced coffee and creamer. âIâll never have to pay to get anything fixed ever again.â
The pan heâs digging the spatula into sizzles as you grab ice from the freezer. âThatâs all youâre excited about? Not my cooking or my conversation?â
âI think youâre forgetting one,â you muse as he reaches for eggs beside you on the counter while you stuff the ice into a glass, then pour the coffee, then the creamer.
He comes up behind you, hands on your hips, and presses a kiss to your cheek. âI didn't forget,â he whispers into your ear, lips grazing cartilage, making you shiver. âThatâs the payment for the cooking, the talking, the fixing.â
Your neck cranes, fingers closing around the glass of coffee on your counter, breath catching as flames erupt beneath your skin. His hand slides up into your hair, moving it off your neck thatâs now exposed to him, and he leans in, softly pressing his lips to your jugular.Â
âYunho,â you sigh, like his name itself was a sound of pleasure. âYouâreâ the stove is on.â
âPayment in advance,â he says against your skin, lips moving downward makes your head tip back, arching as his hands slide up your torso, under your shirt.Â
You hiss at the sharp throb between your legs from only his lips on your neck. He fucked you twice last night, leaving your body exhausted, spent; like sleep reset you, youâre ready to do it all over again.Â
You turn abruptly, hands flying to the sides of his head to pull him to your lips, kissing him roughly, eagerly. He smiles into you, âThat what you want?â
âYeah,â you barely say the word, needing more, needing his lips, his hands, you need everything all over again.Â
He bends, lifting you from under your thighs to sit you on the counter, you waste no time wrapping your legs around him, knotting your fingers in his roots.Â
The sizzling on the stove gets louder, you donât care. His tongue slips between your lips, hands under your shirt, grabbing at your chest, sliding around to your back, fingertips pressing into your skin. You moan softly into his mouth, pressing your hips into the counter, body begging for friction.Â
The front door swings open and you only hear it because of Yunjinâs laughter, sweet and bubbly. You whip your head around to see her stumble inside, San on her heel.Â
You jump down from the counter in a panic, accidentally nudging Yunho out of the way as you turn to face the front door, skin bursting into flames as you look at the two who now notice youâre in the same room, and that they broke you up.Â
âMorning,â San says with a smirk. âSorry to interrupt.â
Yunjin looks like sheâs trying incredibly hard to fight her grin. âIâm only here to shower,â she says coolly, eyes bouncing back and forth between you and Yunho as she throws her bag on the couch. âI need to wash the Penny and San off my body.âÂ
Sanâs brows furrow. âYou need to wash me off your body? Weâre only here so you can use your own body wash before you get me on your body again.âÂ
She whacks him in the chest. âShut up, go to my room and wait.âÂ
He shakes his head, redirecting his attention to Yunho. âYou see how she talks to me?âÂ
Yunho wears a small grin, one that doesnât reach his eyes. âThatâs how you like to be spoken to.âÂ
âIs something burning?â Yunjin turns back around, halfway to the bathroom already, and turning your attention to the stove you jump into action at the realization that the one, singular egg on the pan is burning.Â
You curse under your breath, moving the pan to the other burner, shutting off the stove. San giggles where he stands, âSo busy you forgot you were cooking?â
âMy room,â Yunjin orders from the entrance to the bathroom, pointing to her bedroom. Sanâs arms raise in defense, quickly backing into her bedroom and closing the door behind him.Â
She closes the door to the bathroom, leaving you and Yunho alone with more space between you, and itâs not all physical.Â
âYou panicked,â he points out. Your heart is beating out of your fucking chest, adrenaline, panic and arousal making your knees feel weak, your gut confused.Â
âWe almost burnt down the apartment.â You both know he isnât talking about the egg.Â
âIs it because someone saw us, or was it because someone saw us?â He asks bluntly, cutting right to the chase.Â
âI justâŚâ your hands find your hips, words caught in your throat. âI just got out of a long-term relationship, Yunho. I feel like itâs a little soon to be moving on.âÂ
âYou think San is gonna judge you?â He leans his hip into the counter, one palm flat against the laminate, arm bent. âI know you arenât nervous about Yunjin seeing you.âÂ
âNo,â you shake your head quickly. âIâm not nervous about being judged, Iâm justââ
âYou donât want anyone to think weâre together,â he finishes your sentence for you, words you were too scared to say, anyhow. âWeâre not dating, we donât even have to be exclusive if you donât want to be.â
âIf we're sleeping together, I want to be exclusive.â You at least know that for sure.Â
âOkay,â he answers so quickly it makes you blink. âThen Iâm only sleeping with you.âÂ
Your palm finds your forehead, your other arm gripping the counter behind you. âThat doesnât sound right, either.âÂ
âIâm not calling the shots, sunshine,â his head tilts, imploring you. âThatâs all you.âÂ
You shift on your feet, lips scrunching to the side. You donât know what you want. You donât trust what you want. Not yet.Â
Yunho sighs, pushing himself off the counter, taking two steps forward until he reaches you. His hands find your cheeks, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head.Â
âIâm not your boyfriend, but Iâm not sleeping with anyone else. We can leave it at that.â He pulls away, using his hands on your cheeks to make you look at him. âThatâs okay, and youâre allowed to want that. You deserve simplicity right now.âÂ
You nod, swallowing. âYouâre okay with that?âÂ
He grins. âI told you I like you, and Iâm patient.âÂ
His eyes are so clear, so fucking earnest you believe him.Â
âHave you ever formed a routine in your life so fucking mundane that youâre just bored with it all? Your morning routine, classes, hanging out with your friends, partying⌠none of it feels like doing things anymore, it just feels like marking shit off a checklist. I think you guys could tell I was starting to feel that way with my ex boâ situationship. It all felt boring. I was bored.âÂ
âBut I think in my weeks of being fully single, I started to learn that I wasnât bored, the relationship had just ended a long time before it blew up in my face. I wasnât bored, I was grieving, mourning because I was single, yet somehow still tied down. Now, Iâve come to learn that itâs really easy to confuse boredom with comfort, and being comfortable isnât really that fucking boring at all.âÂ
You smile as Yunho crosses your mind, the past week youâve spent together after giving your relationship a no-label label. You think youâve seen him more than Yunjin, and youâre settling into that state of comfort, letting yourself breathe around him. You can feel your insides, what was a mess of weeds a week ago, slowly untangle themselves into something relaxed, open.
âThey seem almost identical, right? Routine, predictability, knowing exactly what comes next, no anticipation or second-guessing. People use the word comfort with a bad connotationâ like, if someone asked you, âwhyâd you break up?â and you answered, âthey got too comfortableâ. Everyone seems to understand, but what the fuck does that even mean? Isnât that what we should want? To be fully, absolutely comfortable with the person we love? Boredom is stagnation, to be without growth. Comfort is just⌠being yourself around someone, because you feel safe enough to be.â
âYou can confuse a lot of things with boredom, when itâs really not boredom at all. Relationships donât always end with a huge, massive blow up. Sometimes they die way before the eruption starts, sometimes they die while youâre still saying I love you every morning and every night. In that time, while the relationship isnât breathing or bleeding or functioning at all anymore, that feeling⌠It feels like boredom. Existing in the same space, kissing, having sex, you donât even realize youâre in mourning, moping over a loss that hasnât technically happened yet. Youâre lonely, even when youâre sitting beside someone who you think you love, who maybe you do still love.â
You sigh, frowning at your microphone.
âComfort is⌠comfort is safety. Itâs being able to laugh around someone when they said something stupid, and not being nervous that youâre too loud, or that itâs annoying. Comfort is wearing the same shirt you wore to bed two nights in a row, and not being scared that heâll think youâre gross for it. Comfort is making a certain⌠noise during sex, and giggling about it because itâs funny. I still laugh, and if you donât then youâre not fucking the right people. Comfort is safety to me, itâs stability, itâs laughing and enjoying company and finishing an entire pizza together because neither of you give a fuck.â
Youâre smiling again, Yunho on your mind.Â
âTwo episodes ago, I talked about not being able to open up to anyone again emotionally. And I even said on the episode that the feeling doesnât last forever, that eventually, youâll want to open back up. It might be quick, but itâs fucking easy to when the other person makes you comfortable. Makes you feel safe enough to be yourself and not apologize for it.â
âSorry I got deep for a second, I just⌠Iâm reflecting on it a lot these days. Andâ ah!â
You scream as Yunjin pushes your door open, a pitched, blood-curling fucking scream. Then she screams too, jumping back a full step, nails clawing onto your door like she might scratch her way through it.
You slam your laptop shut, ripping your headphones off your ears. âWhat the fuck are you doing here!?â
âI skipped class!â she yells back, full of terror, then her eyes move to your bed. The mic, the headphones, your laptop slammed shut. You feel like you might throw up. She looks back at you, âDo I even want to know?â
âI sing,â you blurt. âIâm a singer. I sing. For fun. And post it on Soundcloud.â
She stares for a second, body uncurling from where it was bent up in fear, and then she laughs. Full-belly, clutching her fucking abdomen, bent over laughter. You still feel vomit clawing its way up your throat.
âYouââ she laughs again, snorting. âIâm gonna fucking piss myself.â
âWhy is that funny?â You gather your mic, your headphones, your laptop, shoving them all beneath your comforter. âGet out of my room, Jen. Your Friday classes are my time.â
Her knees are pinned together, upper half bent over, hand over her crotch, still laughing. âIâm sorry,â she tries to stand, breathless, laughter still pushing on her lips. âThe idea of youâ oh my god, I need to go pee before I piss on your floor.â
Quickly, you shove your equipment into your closet as she sprints for the bathroom. You take a deep, grounding breath, forcing the lie to spin in your head. Youâre a singer. You sing ballads and post them to Soundcloud under an alias so no one will ever find you. You can still hear her fucking laughing in the bathroom.Â
You run out to the hallway, yelling, âYou laughing at me is not gonna help my fucking dreams come true, Jennifer!â
âIâm sorry!â she shouts from behind the closed bathroom door. âI cannot imagine it. Iâve heard you sing in the car and that shit is ass!â
You make a show of gasping like she pierced your heart. âI wasnât trying in the car!â She just laughs harder. âItâs not that fucking funny!â
Thereâs only crickets until she pulls the bathroom door open again. Her face is stoic, expressionless. âIâm sorry,â she starts, and you can tell sheâs using all the strength in her body to keep herself from laughing. âI support you in all your endeavors, and I think youâre an incredible singer. Please, bless my ears by letting me listen to a song.â
âNever,â you cross your arms in the doorway. âYou donât deserve to listen to my music.â
âYouâre serious,â she leans into the doorframe of the bathroom, like youâre having a stand-off from one side of the hallway to the other. âLike, actually. You deadass sit in your room and sing into a microphone and post it to Soundcloud.â
âYes,â you tilt your head, sounding assured. âI do. And I have listeners. Monthly ones.â
Her lips start quivering before she snorts. âIâm sorry,â she turns her head so you canât see her, releasing her laughter in tiny before turning back around, clearing her throat. âYou must be very talented, then. Please let me listen to a song.â
Using her same, sophisticated tone, you respond, âAbsolutely not.â
âOkay, I wonât laugh anymore. Seriously,â she stands up straight, arms flat at her sides. âPlease let me listen.â
âFuck no.â
âPlease,â she begs, crossing the hallway. You quickly back up into your room, closing the door. âPlease, please, please.â
âNo!â you shout through the door, locking it just before she jiggles the handle. âDonât try to come in here, you basically just crushed all my hopes and dreams. Youâre in time-out.â
She giggles from the other side of the door, then stops abruptly. âIâm sorry! Please let me listen? I swear I wonât laugh. Iâll support you, Iâll even post the link to my story.â
âNo!â You shout again, from your bed now. On your back, phone in hand, you cross your legs, scrolling through your texts, opening the thread with Yunho.Â
yunho: r u busy
yunho: come overÂ
yunho: i have like 3 assignments i need ur brain
âPlease! Please, please, pleaseââ
âStop begging!â you shout, typing back.
you: my brain?? my big smart journalism brain?????
yunho: yes
yunho: ill eat u out
you: omw
âIâll do anything,â she bangs on your door like sheâs in a melodramatic musical. âIâll cut off a limb⌠Iâll give you my firstborn⌠Please let me.â
âIâm going to Yunhoâs!â you shout, already jumping off your bed to put a bag together. Clothes to sleep in, a hairbrush, your makeup, your laptop, you have assignments you need to finish, too.
Thereâs such a long period of time before Yunjin answers you think she mightâve finally given up. âIâm coming too!â she says excitedly from the other side, you can hear her smile. âSan just said I can.â
Sighing, you reach for the doorhandle, unlocking it before pulling it open. Sheâs pouting, glossy lips bent, brows upturned, holding her phone open in her hand. âPlease?â
âIf you say anything about Soundcloud in front of any of them, Iâll kill you.â
âThen let me listen to a song before we go.â Your brows raise. âI wonât, I wouldnât dare. You know that.â
You smile, satisfied. âGet ready, Iâll drive.â
After packing your toothbrush, you throw your bag and your purse over your shoulder, filling up your water before waiting for Yunjin by the door. She meets you just minutes later without a bag, without anything. You pop a brow.Â
âIf youâre staying at their house, Iâll bring him back here.â
âAh,â your head tips back, tugging on your front door, locking it behind Yunjin.Â
âYou know, I could actually see you being a singer,â she says nonchalantly, walking beside you down the main staircase of your building. âYour talking voice is nice, I bet your singing voice is nice, too.â
âJen,â you basically groan. âJust drop it already, please.â
âLet me be your number one fan,â she frowns, reaching the bottom step before you. âI feel weird about there being a part of your life I donât know about.â
âWell, you laughed,â you make a face that says sucks to be you. âIf you didnât piss yourself, maybe I would have shown you.â
âI only peed a little!â she argues from behind you, standing her ground before following you to your car. âIt just caught me off guard. You donât seem like a singer, and itâs weird to me that you live this secret, double-singer-life.â
You sigh again, opening your car door, turning over the engine. âDrop it, Jen.â
âYou seriously wonât show me?â she asks from the passenger seat, clicking her seatbelt into place. The emotion in her voice, the disappointment⌠You swallow down your guilt as you plug your phone in.
âIâll show you when Iâm ready,â you give her a small, comforting smile. âOkay?â
âOkay,â she nods, her answering grin not fully convincing. âIâm sorry I laughed.â
You press play on your phone and turn the volume up.
âThatâs you!â you hear San scream from the living room. âDrink, Yeo. You have to fucking drink!â
âYun, these are still all questions he can answer with yes or no,â you sigh, pushing his laptop back toward him.
The dining room isnât the most ideal place to do assignments. When thereâs parties, this room is always full of people sitting around the table, passing around a bong, laughing, talking. Itâs always full, just like the house is. What you didnât realize is that even when there is no party, thereâs still a party. Five frat guys and Jen sit in the living room playing god knows what while you sit with Yunho in the dining room, trying to help him with his final assignment youâve gotten nowhere with in the hour that youâve been here.
âI donât even know what to ask anymore, I know all these answers already,â Yunho frowns, his blonde hair pushed back in a headband, his bottom lip red and swollen from how many times heâs bitten it. âDo you know how hard it is to come up with interview questions for Mingi when I already know everything about him?â
âThen whyâd you choose him?â you ask, a grin warming your cheeks.Â
âBecause I thought he would be the easiest,â Yunho mumbles, leaning his cheek into his open palm.Â
âI think the point is literally the opposite,â you try to hide your smile as you say it. âArenât these things usually supposed to be about someone you donât know?â
His lips flatten, gaze falling to the table. âYes.â
âCan you guys stop being losers and come play with us?â Mingi peeks his head into the dining room, his short, black hair unstyled, choppy over his forehead. âYeosang is drunk and itâs kinda funny.â
âWeâre almost done,â you respond with an affirming nod, even though you havenât started your own assignment nor have you finished Unscripted for this week. You know you canât do that here, though.
Mingiâs top lip lifts as he quietly mutters under his breath, âLosers.â
You turn to Yunho whoâs staring at you with puppy dog eyes. You immediately laugh, âOh, you cannot be serious. You asked me to come over here to help.â
âCanât you just think of questions and Iâll write them down?â he asks, his pout deepening, the sparkle in his eye growing brighter. âIâll eat you out so good, I swear.â
âYou said youâd give me head if I helped,â your brows raise, leaning back into the creaky, wooden dining room chair. âNot if I did your work for you. That costs more.â
You think in the past week, youâve gotten more head than you have in your twenty-one years of life. Not a complaint.
âLike⌠eating you out twice?â His voice is playful, teasing, his grin just as much. âOr did you mean fucking you stupid?â
You pretend to think on it, tapping your cheek with your index finger, eyes on the ceiling. âThat could definitely be part of the payment.â
âPart?â his brows raise, still playful. âThereâs more?â
âI wantâŚâ You lean in, whispering, âA new Gojo figure.â
He laughs from his chest, body sinking back into the chair. âUnserious.â
âUnserious?â you reiterate, brows in your hairline, âIâm completely serious, Jeong Yunho. The Dtalon Studios one. The freaky one.â
His face falls, blinking at you as the cogs turn in his mind, no doubt coming to the realization of which figure. âFirst of all, that figure is like, four hundred bucks. Two grand resold.â You nod. âFor an interview assignment?â You nod again. âYouâve gotta be drunk.â
âStone cold sober, baby.â
âThe one where you can take his clothes off and heâs naked as fuck under? The mirror selfie one?â
With a breathy little giggle, you nod, âYes, sir.â
He runs his hands over his face before facing his laptop again. âThereâs gotta be things that I donât know about Mingi.â
You giggle again, throwing your legs over his lap from your chair. âInteresting that you know so much about that specific figure.â
He doesnât look up from his laptop screen as he says, âI went down a rabbit hole, donât even ask.â
So you donât. You lean into the chair, and watch him as he types, backspaces, and types again. So focused, jaw set, bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowed unconsciously. So pretty, even when heâs doing nothing. It's unfair.
âOkay,â he leans back, and turns to you, presenting. âWhatâs your biggest goal after college?â
You hum, lips scrunching. You bend your knees, pressing your toes into his thigh, reworking his question in your mind. âWhatâs one thing you hope people will remember you by after college?â
In a split, Yunho answers, âHis two-second shotgun record. Heâs undefeated.â
Your jaw drops. âAre you serious? Why do you know that?â
âBecause thatâs his pride and joy,â Yunho shrugs. âIf you ask him, thatâs what heâll say.â
âMingi!â you shout, craning your head backward. When he calls back from the living room, you tell him to come into the dining room. When his thick thighs enter the room before he does, you ask, âWhatâs one thing you hope people will remember you by after you graduate?â
âMy shotgun record,â he answers, right off the bat. âDid you know itâs two seconds?â
âOh⌠my god,â you answer in complete disbelief, turning to Yunho. âDo you share one brain cell?â
Yunho laughs, standing, reaching forward to clasp Mingiâs hand, dapping him up. âGood shit.â
Mingiâs grinning, but he doesnât ask why, or what itâs for. He just leaves. He doesnât even care. You think you might lose your mind if you stay down here any longer.Â
âGuys,â Yeosang enters right behind him, like Mingi passed the baton in the hallway between the two rooms. His blonde hair is more sandy than Yunhoâs, longer, curling around his ears, the gray tee on his torso darkened with liquor, his sweatpants baggy. âCome play with us. Please? Pretty please? San keeps making me drink.â
Heâs hammered. You cover your mouth with your palm as you laugh, Yunho outright snorting from beside you. Yeosang sighs, laying his palms on the table, his head dipping low between his shoulders. âPlease,â he begs, sounding desperate. âI need someone to tell him no. Hongjoong wonât save me anymore âcuz heâs winning.â
âWhat are you playing?â you ask, curious now.
âWe were playing Uno,â he stands again, running his hands through his hair, holding the strands taut at his crown. âNow weâre playing Never Have I Ever, and Iâve done a lot of things.â
You canât hold back your snort this time. Yeosang whines, âPlease, I need you both. I need someone else who has done things other than San and Yunjin, Yunho, please.â
âThis isnât due until next week,â Yunho almost whispers, leaning closer to you. âI can spare an hour.âÂ
âNever Have I Ever at our grown age?â You pop a brow. He shrugs. You sigh. âOkay.â
You grab drinks from the fridge before making your way out to the living room where Yunjin, San, Mingi, Hongjoong, Jongho, and Yeosang are already sitting on the couch. Everyone sits like they have their own space, San on the very end, Yunjin halfway in his lap. Mingi sits beside him, with a space between him and Hongjoong who sits beside Jongho, then Yeosang. You assume the space is for Yunho, who instead sits with you on the opposite side. You wonder where Seonghwa is, the last one you assume is out getting sucked and fucked.
On the coffee table are several, several empty bottles of beer, a tall, half-drank handle of vodka, and about fourteen empty, plastic shot glasses. You take a breath at the sight, and wonder if youâll come out of the other end of this as sober as you started.
âAre we starting a new round?â Hongjoong asks as soon as you sit down, criss-cross applesauce on the couch, both hands holding onto the beer resting on the couch between his legs. ââCuz I was winning the last one, and Iâm gonna be pissed if we start a new one and I lose.â
âHow do you even win at Never Have I Ever?â Yunjin asks, her ass in the pocket between Sanâs lap and the armrest, a seltzer in her hands. Her legs over his lap, San just looks happy to be there, resting his arms over her legs, a beer in one hand.
âNot having all your fingers down, obviously,â Hongjoong answers quickly. âHow are you just asking this now? Weâve played three rounds already.â
âSo you just win if youâre a virgin?â Mingi asks, and suddenly everyoneâs eyes besides Yunjin land on you.
Your cheeks flush. âIâm not a virgin.â
Yunho raises his hand, âCan confirm.â
Yunjin giggles loudly from the end of the couch, âNice.â
âIâm not a virgin either, hello,â Hongjoong interrupts. âYou all just ask stupid questions âcuz youâre drunk.â
âMy questions arenât stupid,â Jongho sounds offended, brown brows scrunching over his eyes. Heâs lying sideways, propped up on his elbow, his knees bent so he doesnât kick Hongjoong. He points to the older man with his half-drank beer, âI literally said never have I ever farted in front of a girl. Thatâs a solid question.â
Your lips tighten, trying not to laugh. Hongjoong nods, âAnother reason why I was winning.â
âOkay, but thatâs unfair,â San throws an arm in Jonghoâs direction. âI eat a lot of protein, itâs not my fault.â
You find yourself looking at Yunho, âWould you have put a finger down?â
Heâs smiling as he asks, âDo you really want the answer to that question?âÂ
âI can live without knowing,â you mutter as you turn to the rest of the group, bringing your seltzer up to your lips. Itâs a mild flavor, more bubbles than anything, but you think you might need the alcohol if youâre going to participate.Â
Yunjin clears her throat, âNever have I ever⌠been to a strip club.â
San, Mingi, and Yunho put their fingers down. You can only assume they went together. Yunjin kicks at Sanâs legs, and he shrugs, âIt was Wooyoungâs idea.â
That makes sense. Yeosang stands, âDrink! Youâre supposed to fucking drink!â
âNo, youâre supposed to put a finger down,â Hongjoong reminds him, his voice steady. âYou keep letting San bully you into drinking.â
You pout, bottom lip folding over. Leaning into Yunho, you whisper, âNo one should bully Yeosang into anything, heâs too sweet.â
âHeâs allowing it,â Yunho whispers back before sipping his beer. âHeâs not stupid. He wouldnât be drunk if he didnât want to be, but you and Yunjin are here, soâŚâ
âDamn,â you mutter, surprised. âWould not expect that from him.â
âNever have I ever,â San speaks up, his voice laying over the room like a blanket. âHmm⌠Made out with one of my friends.â
Yunho, Mingi, Hongjoong and Yunjin put their fingers down. Yunjin you know has made out with probably your entire friend group, but your eyes bounce back and forth between Mingi and Yunho. Like he was reading the question in your mind, Yunho nods.Â
âReally? Like, in a fruity way?â you question, brows in your hairline.
âHe has literally been inside me,â Mingi says much too fucking casually from the other side of the couch before bringing his drink up to his lips. Your jaw touches the floor, you think.
Mingi doesnât wait to say, âNever have I ever lied to someone in this room.â
Every single person puts a finger down, including you. Then Mingi laughs maniacally like heâs won the entire fucking game. Yunjin stares at you from across the couch, âLiar!â
âYou put a finger down, too!â you shout back, pointing at her.
âI lied to San!â she points back, offended.Â
San gasps, looking down at Yunjin, âYou lied to me?â
âI lied to Yunho.â Frowning, you lean into him, âSorry, but the last paragraph on your advertisement paper didnât actually sound great.â
Yunho clutches his heart, his face morphing into heartbreak, âHow could you?â
Your grin is silly as you lay your head on his shoulder, âForgive me.â
He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and for you, thatâs forgiveness enough. You keep your head on his shoulder while Jongho announces, âNever have I ever been caught lying.â
âNo fair, you just mooched off mine,â Mingi shouts at Jongho, his posture straightening out.
Jongho giggles, drinking his beer, but says nothing. When no one puts down a finger, the youngest man in the room scowls, âYouâre all fucking liars.â
Hongjoong snorts, âThat was a stupid question, I told youââ
Jongho stretches out one knee, kicking Hongjoong in his side. The older man gasps, whacking his leg with his arm, and Jongho just laughs in response.Â
âIâm not playing this round,â Yeosang announces, body already halfway into the couch, eyes at half mast. Drunk and almost asleep, no one pays him any mind. When eyes land on you, youâre nervous, you didnât think about what youâd say when it was your turn.
âOh, shit,â you curse under your breath. âUh, never have I ever⌠done anal.â
âI told you guys no oneâs into anal,â Hongjoong mutters under his breath, completely missing Yunjin and Mingi who both put their fingers down. When he realizes, his jaw drops, âNo fucking way.â
Yunjin just giggles, stretching her legs out over San until her toes prod at Mingiâs thigh. Mingi shifts farther away.Â
Yunho, lips scrunched, seems to be thinking. âNever have I ever⌠shit, Iâve done a lot. Never have I ever drunk called an ex.â As soon as he says it, he looks at you. The rest of your fingers stay up. He smiles.Â
âBoring,â San drags out from the other side of the couch. âThis round was boring. We need another game, you all suck.â
âLetâs play karaoke,â Yunjinâs smile is evil as she stares at you from across the couch. Your body enters fight or flight.
âThatâs not even a game,â Mingi mutters, sinking into the couch again, arms crossing over his chest.Â
âYup, not a game,â you quickly redirect your attention to Yunho. âWe should go finish your assignment.â
âBoo,â Yunjin calls from across the couch, making your cheeks flush.
âTheyâre right, itâs not a game, Jen,â you hear from San as you stare at Yunho expectantly.
âI donât wanna,â Yunho whines, laying back on the couch.Â
âThen letâs go get you another drink,â you reach for his almost empty beer bottle, shaking it. Without giving him time to answer, you stand, âCome on.â
He follows you into the kitchen, but doesnât speak until youâre out of earshot. While youâre opening the fridge for another beer, he wears confusion in his brows as he asks, âWhatâs up, sunshine?â
âNothing,â you say breathily, almost satisfied as you watch him down the rest of his beer. Handing him the new one, you shrug, âJust wanted a second alone with you.â
He grins, setting the new, full beer on the counter before he grabs your cheeks, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. âMissed me?â
You lift yourself up on your tippy toes to swing your arms around his neck, pressing another kiss to his lips. âMaybe Iâm ready to cash in.â
He laughs, âAnd the kitchen is where you want me? On my knees, for anyone to see?â
âWould that be such a bad thing?â your head tilts, tone dripping in amusement, even if heat starts spreading through your lower half.
He hums, debating, using his hands on your waist to rock you both side to side. âYes, but only because I donât want anyone else to see you cum. Thatâs only for me.â
You kiss him again, with the intention of him bringing you upstairs. Even the dining room. Anywhere except the fucking living room where Yunjin is clearly dying to force you into singing, youâd rather kill two birds with one stone.
Yunho feels the heat, his hands sliding beneath your tee, his palms heavy on your hips. His thumbs tuck under the waistband of your sweats, tongue slipping between your teeth, pushing you backward, into the counter. You gasp when your back hits the laminate, hands sliding up into his hair, tugging at his roots.
He empties a quiet, rough noise into your mouth. âYou know what youâre doing.â
âI do,â you keep your voice coated in innocence. âWhat are you gonna do about it?â
âGo to my room,â he whispers into your mouth, then lets go of your hips. You pull your arms back down, grinning like you got your cake and you get to fucking eat it, too. You suppose itâs Yunho who would be eating it, actually.
âWoo,â you hear from the living room as soon as you turn to leave the kitchen. An announcement or a greeting, you arenât sure, but you can feel your blood turn cold like an icy wind swept through the house, stealing all the heat you felt just moments ago.
Then you see him. Walking through the living room, towards the staircase, heâs in jeans, a hoodie, the hood swallowing his head, his hair. His jaw is set, his eyes low, his head down, but he sees you. His dark eyes land on you, then Yunho behind you, and it feels like slow motion, as if the world itself had pressed pause as his eyes rake you bottom to top.Â
He walks past, up the stairs. You hear a door open, then close. Someone pressed play.
You still feel it, though, the absence. There was no anger in his eyes, no annoyance, just⌠silence.
Yunhoâs hands land on your hips again, âYou okay, sunshine?â
Your head tilts as he presses a kiss above your ear, you barely feel it. âIs he?â
âHe gets like that sometimes,â Yunho says, like itâs no big deal. âBest to just leave him alone, heâll be fine.â
You nod automatically, your eyes lingering on the staircase. Youâre not sure you even heard what he said.
there are many, many things in life youâll never understand. but the things you're trying to figure out right now are choi yeonjun, why no one is smart enough to figure out that unscripted is you, and how the fuck jung wooyoung is always right.
đ¤ď¸ď¸ wooyoung x fem!reader | college au, mini-series, part 3/? 8k words
đ¤ď¸ď¸ 18+ reader is the host of a sex podcast, wooyoung is a frat boy whore, reader has a boyfriend who is choi yeonjun | smut minors dni
âHOW WAS THE PARTY ON TUESDAY?â Comes from Soobin, fully lounged out on the couch, his eyes on you the moment you step foot in his apartment.Â
You close the door behind you softly, even if your heart is already racing in your chest. You ask, âWhat party?âÂ
Soobin sits up, a lazy grin on his cheeks, showing off his dimples. Not like Sanâs dimples, his are different, somehow, not as prominent. Not as damning. Thereâs something playing on the TV across from him, a cooking show, you think.Â
His head tilts, eyes flaring like you both know what party heâs talking about. âI saw you there,â Soobin admits. âYou were zip-tied to Jeong Yunho.âÂ
Heat spreads from your chest outward. You laugh, or try to, it comes out like a nervous sound of forced air, if anything. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you wonder, âI thought you were busy studying on Tuesday night.â
âNot busy enough to miss a handcuff party.â He sits up fully, leaning his chin into his elbows, arms hooked over the back edge of the couch. You creep closer after kicking off your shoes.Â
âIs that what theyâre called?â you ask, letting your purse fall from your shoulder to your fingers. âIâve never been to one before.â
âTheyâre fun,â Soobin watches you carefully, like heâs reading your body language, or trying to. âIf youâre tied to the right person.âÂ
âI was not,â you admit, pinning your arms behind your back, clasping your hands together. âYunho made me shotgun, like, four beers. I donât even like beer.âÂ
âDirty martini, extra dirty, three olives,â Soobin recites from memory. âNo, youâve never been a Miller Lite kind of girl.âÂ
âIs Junie in his room?â You glance toward his closed bedroom door.
âHeâs in there,â Soobin uncurls from the back of the couch, sinking into the plush leather again, focusing back on the cooking show. âHe saw you with Yunho, too.âÂ
You took one step towards Yeonjunâs room before stopping in your tracks. Your neck snaps toward Soobin, âHe was there?âÂ
âWeird, how you guys donât talk when youâre in a relationship.âÂ
You donât answer, already at Yeonjunâs door, pushing it open to see him exactly where you knew heâd be. At his desk, laptop open, headphones in his ears. Like he did to you Tuesday morning, you walk over to him and pluck one out of his ear.Â
You skip greeting him. âSo, I couldnât come over Tuesday night because you were studying, but you could go to a frat party? That doesnât interfere with your studying schedule?âÂ
He pushes his desk chair backward, looking up at you with a face that doesnât read even the slightest bit of guilt. âI had been studying all day, I needed a break.âÂ
âAnd that involves frat parties, but not hanging out with your girlfriend?â You throw your purse onto his bed, hands landing on your hips. Anger brings your blood to a steady boil, skin steaming, a kettle ready to whistle. âJesus Christ Yeonjun, you want to marry me but you canât spend your Tuesday night with me?âÂ
âHey,â he tries to soothe, eyebrows bent up in concern. He shakes his head before words can spill, âIt was last minute, baby. I went with Soob and Gyu, I didnât even drink.âÂ
âDid you get tied to anyone?â
âDid you?â he counters, and your mouth runs dry. He smiles, a small, soft grin, âI saw, but Iâm not angry, am I?âÂ
Your lips bend downward in a frown, voice coming out quieter, like you didnât want the answer as you ask, âWhy didnât you tell me? Why didnât you talk to me at the party? We couldâve gone together, been tied together.â
âCome here,â he soothes, holding his arms out. You look at him for a second before moving an inch. Sweats on his legs, a loose tee on his torso, but his hair is still styled from class earlier today. Nothing out of the ordinary. Your Yeonjun.Â
You take a step toward him, and his hands land on your hips, giving you the okay to crawl onto his lap, feet dangling off the back of the chair as you settle over his thighs. Hands landing on his shoulders, you pout further, âThey made me drink beer.â
He moves your hair away from your face, pouting with you, âHow could they be so cruel?â
âYou really donât care that I went?â you ask, voice still small, partially guilty. âI didnât even tell you I was going.âÂ
âI figured you needed to blow off some steam,â Yeonjunâs hands land on your bare thighs, warm palms smearing smooth strokes across your skin. âI havenât been the most attentive lately.âÂ
âNo,â youâre quick to answer. âYou havenât.â
âMy pretty girl,â he reaches up for your cheeks, pulling you down to kiss him. A light peck, a greeting in the press of your lips. âStay over tonight.â
Youâre supposed to record tonight, an hour length episode on bondage. You should send Yunho a fruit basket for the idea.Â
You hum, keeping your lips close to his. âMaybe.â
He kisses you again, one of his hands falling to your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. He parts with your lips with his tongue, and you moan an almost silent noise into his mouth, a soft plea.
âWhy maybe?â he whispers between kisses, teasing. âYouâve got a hot date? Choi San? Jeong Yunho?â
You smile, giggling into his mouth before pushing on his chest. âShut up,â you press your forehead against his. âYour exam is tomorrow and I have a lot of shit to get done.â
You do, other than the podcast. His hands find your waist, slipping under your tee, warm against your skin. A shiver racks up your spine anyway, body giving into his touch, craving more, needing more. You donât want to get your hopes up, even if heâs the one coming onto you.Â
âToo much that you canât make some time for me?â heâs smiling, voice too playful for the weight of his words. How did this get flipped on you?
Your response comes quickly. âThatâs funny, coming from you.â
He frowns, voice suddenly sharp. âDo you think itâs easy? My classes? My assignments?â
âNo,â you mumble, shameful. âI just think you can make more time than you let on.â
âSo you think Iâm a liar?â He sits back in the chair, leaving you with your hands on your thighs, disarmed. âYou think that I enjoy spending all my time sitting at this desk, not doing the things you want me to do?â
Your cheeks feel hot, nails catching onto the skin of your thighs. âThatâs not what I said, Junie.â
âYou donât have to say it,â he argues. âDo you think it felt good to see you tied to Jeong Yunho? Laughing with him? Smiling at him the way you smile at me?â
All the color drains from your face, leaving your skin feeling cold, your body stiff with discomfort and guilt. âIâ you said you didnât care that I went.â
âI donât care,â he reiterates, voice still ridged with frustration. âI canât care, because I know Iâm not taking care of you the way Iâm supposed to be. I was there to blow off steam, too, because all I can think about is cardiovascular hemodynamics when I should be thinking about you.â
Youâre shaking your head before he finishes his sentence. âYou donât need to be thinking about me, focus on studying. Iâm here, Iâll be here, Iâm not going anywhere. Iâm sorry.â
His lips bend in a small smile, hands landing on your thighs again, sliding his palms up and down reassuringly. âItâs okay, baby, I know, I justâŚâ He glances at his laptop. âI need to finish this section.â
You swallow down your unease, mind drifting back to the party, to Wooyoungâs advice that youâve refused to take for over a week now. Heat returns to your body, your hands landing over Yeonjunâs on your thighs. âFinish it in ten minutes.â
You can feel your heartbeat, moisture surfacing on your palms. You need this, you need him to lay you down, to remind you that he loves you. All of your questions from before the party have been answered: you clearly donât respect him enough as a med student, youâre a shitty girlfriend for not giving him space, and you do fucking suck because all you can think about is still fucking sex.Â
You pull your shirt over your head from the hem, throwing it to the floor beside you. Yeonjun watches, lips parting, eyes darkening to a moonless night.
âTen minutes,â you whisper, voice coming out sultry, like a glass of red wine. Your right hand slides down your stomach until it passes the hem of your shorts, the only layer separating you. You hear Yeonjunâs breath catch in his throat.Â
Two fingers find your clit, adding pressure, swirling a small, precise circle. You release a pleased sigh, head falling to the side, eyes locked on Yeonjun whose gaze is focused on between your legs.Â
âStudy me,â you whisper just as your hips rock into your own hand, fingers picking up speed between your legs. Yeonjunâs brows furrow, nails sinking into your thighs, body sinking into the chair, dazed.Â
âFuck,â he groans out, voice layered with arousal, deep and seductive.Â
âIâm so wet,â you whine, like itâs a complaint. But itâs not, the relief is immediate, body thrumming with pleasure as he watches your knuckles through your shorts. âDâyou wanna feel?â
Finally, he looks up, and you canât believe thereâs a full second of debate before heâs grabbing you by your thighs and standing on his feet. In one quick motion he has you on your back, on his bed, legs spread and back arched.Â
He tugs both his sweatpants and his briefs down his legs at once, crawling over you, helping you get your shorts down your calves, over the heels of your feet.
âFuck me,â you whisper as he settles between your legs, before his lips meet yours. Your tongue slides into his mouth as you reach for the hem of his tee, breaking the kiss only to pull it over his head. He presses his chest against yours, and you swear the feeling of his skin against yours brings you closer.Â
You can feel him sliding between your thighs, spreading the arousal youâve spent the last few minutes gathering, unsurprisingly slippery. âJunie,â you pant into his mouth, back arching up into him, âinside, please.âÂ
He grunts like heâs letting go of the last bit of his restraint. Looking between your bodies, he lines himself up, and you brace yourself for the stretch, sucking in a tight breath, limbs locking.Â
He groans as he pushes inside, savoring every inch of your heat, slowly filling you until he reaches the hilt. He's slow at first, like he always is, rocking into you softly, letting you feel every inch, every vein, every ridge.Â
âFeel so good,â your boyfriend grits out, chin tucked to his chest, watching himself pull out and fill you up over and over. You reach for his face, keeping your song of pleasure quiet, legs hooking around his back as you pull his lips to yours.Â
He picks up the pace, fucking into you steadily, making your lips go slack against his, the two of you breathing into each othersâ mouths, fighting to keep quiet.
âNot gonna last like this,â he mutters into your mouth, voice tight. You whimper, using your legs around his middle to lift your hips, angling him upward so his cock curves right into the spot you needed it to.Â
âFuck,â the curse is sharp, his hips stuttering. âSo tight, âh my godââ
âWait, wait,â you pant, nails clawing into his shoulders, ankles crossing over his back. Youâre not close, youâre barely dipping your toes into the pool of pleasure. You thought itâd be easier to reach the finish line, so wound-up, you assumed after a few measly touches youâd be coming undone.Â
âCanât,â he whines, voice strained, pitched and tight like he was two strokes away from finishing.Â
And he was, much to your dismay.Â
His pace quickens, staggered, rough, chasing his release until he pulls away, pulling out, he takes his length in his hand until heâs painting the expanse of your stomach white.Â
You lay there, catching your breath, hating yourself for being disappointed. Wooyoungâs voice rings in your mind as you watch Yeonjun run a hand through his hairâ three minutes of missionary. Was that even three minutes?
Yeonjun hops off the bed, no doubt in search of a towel to clean you up. You should just be happy he finally fucked you, you could work on the specifics later. That was progress. That was sound advice you received, used, and it fucking worked.Â
It worked.Â
âAre you okay?â Yeonjun asks, wiping your stomach with a warm, damp towel.Â
You nod, reminding yourself to smile, âYeah, âm fine. Happy.â He grins, so wide and full it makes the guilt weighing on your chest feel ten times heavier. âWill you be upset if I go? I still have to work on my multimedia report, itâs due tomorrow.âÂ
He crawls over you, then drops himself on the bed beside you, planting a kiss on your lips as soon as he lands. âI could never be upset with you, baby. Youâre gonna be a big-shot reporter one day, arenât you?âÂ
âA big-shot journalist,â you correct, smiling before you kiss him again.Â
âI couldnât take time away from you reaching your goal,â he presses another kiss to your forehead, voice soft, even if the wording makes it feel like a dig. âGo.âÂ
Go, Virgin.Â
You crawl off the bed quicker than you mean to, finding your tee, your shorts. Guilt, disappointment and despair are swimming in your gut, a cocktail for you losing your patience, your temper and your mind if you donât leave his condo now. You should be grateful. You should be happy youâve made progress.Â
But fuck, your insides feel hollow. You donât feel any better than you did before.Â
He mutters something about seeing you tomorrow, and you smile, kiss him once again, then sling your purse over your shoulder and get the fuck out of there. You donât speak to Soobin, you donât look at Beomgyu on the opposite side of the couch, you keep your gaze straight ahead as you make for the front door.Â
Once youâre outside under the sunset, you finally breathe, filling your diaphragm with air and hope. This canât be forever. You canât be one of those wives that men talk about under the AITA subreddit, the ones who wonât fuck their husband because he fucking sucks.Â
You canât be in a sexless marriage.Â
You canât marry him at all. Â
S&M by Rihanna is blasting in Wooyoungâs headphones, and only God and Unscripted could possibly answer why.Â
âGood morning, afternoon, or goodnight, whatever time youâre listening to this weekâs episode of Unscripted. Today, we have an exciting topic that I cannot wait to dive into. Bondage. And I know what youâre thinking: am I secretly really kinky? Well, I guess itâs not much of a secret after over fifty episodes, is it?âÂ
âIf you donât know what bondage is, then Iâll give you the Merriam-Webster definition. Bondage is a sadomasochistic practiceâhence S&M for the introâthat involves the physical restraint of your partner. Or of you, depending on what youâre into. Iâd like to start off with a story, if thatâs cool with you.âÂ
Wooyoung internally groans as he stares at the treadmill screen with a blank expression. He needs her to get to the juicy part and fast.Â
âThis weekend, I went to a frat party. I know, so sophisticated, but it was enlightening in a very physical way. My wrist was zip-tied to a random guy, someone I had barely even met, and it got me thinkingâ do we all have someone that we're zip-tied to, whether itâs a physical, or an emotional bond?â
Wooyoung almost trips over his feet. She was at his party this weekend? What other frat on campus could have had the same themed party on the same weekend?
âEven though I was physically tied to this beautiful, tall, random ass man Iâve never spoken a word to, there was someone else at the party who is tied to a vastly different part of me. By midnight, the alleged rules state that all couples are to finish a pack of alcohol together, and then you could get your zip-tie cut off your wrists, and enjoy the party. Six beers down, I was freed, and trust me, I enjoyed that tall man and the party. But now, a few days later, Iâve come to realize what was supposed to be such a simple party theme might have changed the trajectory of my life forever.âÂ
Wooyoung smacks his teeth. Boring. No one cares about hearing about her life if itâs not the sexy bits, especially him. He doesnât reach for his phone.
âI didnât even know he was there, the other guy, not the sexy one I was tied to with a strap of plastic. But now that I know, Iâm wondering, was I really ever tied to Mister Tall? Did I even consider the fact that I could be tied to Mister Tall? Or was I tied to someone else the whole time, and I couldnât even enjoy that I was physically attached to a tall, sexy ass man?âÂ
Wooyoung is confused. So many words, so many words repeated, he thinks he lost somewhere around strap of plastic.
âDo we all find ourselves, at some point in our lives, attached, bonded to someone we know we shouldnât be, but we canât do anything about it? We canât stop because weâre scared of what itâs like to not have them in our lives, weâre scared of what itâs like to feel fully alone again.â
Wooyoung has never disagreed with anything more.Â
âSex should be fun. It should be filled with curiosity, comfort, laughter, and pleasure. You should try new things, like bringing zip-ties to the bedroom or having a woman on your face while another is between your legs.â
That's something Wooyoung can agree with. He loves it when it feels personal.Â
âIt shouldnât be⌠it shouldnât feel like a chore. Or like youâre a hole or something, sorry, thatâs foul wording, but itâs the truth. Sex is between two people, and it should feel that way, whether youâre bonded to the person or not. If youâre a guy listening, please take everything I just said to heart, and if youâre thinking âis this about me?â then it is.â
Damn. This isnât the usual fun and flirty sex talk he usually hears from her podcast. He guesses women like Unscripted go through shit, too. And here he thought she was just as free-spirited as he was. Wooyoung guesses everyone goes through shitâ he wonders if heâll ever feel anything close to what sheâs going through, or something like what youâre going through.Â
He laughs under his breath at the idea. Or tries to, at least, his breath cleared from his goddamn chest thanks to the speed of the treadmill.Â
âMy bad, someone sent in a question asking if Iâd ever experienced a situationship and I needed to let everyone know that even I get lonely sometimes, and sleep with a man more than once. But anyways, letâs move on to the good shit, right?âÂ
Wooyoung peels his headphones off his ears and cringes when he realizes theyâre as sweaty as he is. Resting them around his neck, he turns the treadmill off, wipes it down, and throws his bag over his shoulder all while still trying to catch his breath.Â
It didnât feel like an hour running through podcast episodes, at the end of this one heâll be all caught up, and by this point he feels like he knows her a little better. He relates to her, in a weird, hatred-filled way, itâs like sheâs the female version of him, but heâd rather fall off the treadmill than admit that to someone else.Â
Especially San.Â
He feels even weirder now that heâs come to terms with relating to her, but knowing that even sheâs felt a level of romance before when heâs never felt it at all, makes him feel like an oddball. He leaves it up to a strong case of FOMO, but in his soul he knows he doesnât actually want to experience it.Â
Everyone he knows thatâs in a relationship hates it in one way or another. Or theyâre too stubborn to admit it, like you, very obviously just showing up for your shift behind the gym counter.Â
âVirgin,â Wooyoung says by way of greeting. Youâre shoving your bag under the counter when he says it, and when you look up, Wooyoung nearly jumps where he stands on the opposite side of the black acrylic. You look like shit.
âDamn,â Wooyoung mumbles, taking in your dark circles, your zombie-fied, lifeless looking skin. âWhat the hell happened to you?â
âI donât have the energy for you today,â you respond, voice curt. No playful tone, no sarcasm, just the honest-to-god truth. It kinda hurts his feelings.Â
âWhat happened?â Wooyoung asks, his tone concerned, and it surprises him that he cares. Instinct, not choice.Â
âNothing,â you mutter, throwing your phone onto the acrylic, a little hard for someone whoâs trying to play off their state as fine. âGo home, Wooyoung.â
Something tugs at his gut, telling him to go. Instinct tells him not to press, not to get involved, but by now heâs in too deep to not be intrigued.Â
âDoes it have to do with the husband?â He pries anyway, crossing his sweaty forearms over the counter. âYou look like shit.âÂ
You deadpan, eyes pointed, jaw locked. âOh, really?â you ask, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. Maybe the sarcastic part of you stays intact no matter what. âI had no idea, I guess running on no sleep and copious amounts of caffeine isnât good for oneâs appearance. Who woulda thought?â
âIâm serious,â he pushes, his front pressing up against the counter. He leans his cheek on his palm. âAre you sick or something? Why are you working?âÂ
âIâm not sick,â you mumble, changing directions, as if Wooyoung wouldnât follow you. You should know him better than that by now.Â
âThen whatâs your deal?â He meets you at the opposite side, his sweaty arms leaving another mark on the acrylic.Â
âGod, Wooyoung, what if Iâm just having a bad day?â Your voice is raised, basically shouting, sounding exasperated like heâs hit every single nerve he could reach. âAnd if something is wrong, maybe I donât want to fucking talk to you about it!âÂ
His brows raise. Maybe he should have listened to his gut. It's never steered him wrong before, listening to his gut is how he hit his last personal record, six women in one day.
He canât find it in himself to come up with a snarky response, so instead he taps the black acrylic twice in place of saying goodbye with his lips sealed tight, and carries himself back to his car like he never asked in the first place. He reminds himself he doesnât care, not about you, not about your love life, he wouldnât give a fuck if you never spoke to him again.Â
He will admit that he kind of wants to know if his advice worked, though. A creeping thought has been breaching the walls of his mind lately, if he could really be the male version of Unscripted, if he started posting podcast episodes of himself talking about sex. Would he become as popular? Would he get as many listeners? Would people take his word as seriously as they take Unscriptedâs?
The music playing from his speakers is a low hum all the way back to his house. His mind wanders, from you, the way you looked, to Unscripted, to himself. If sex is his singular, undeniable skill in this life, shouldnât he do something with it?
âWhatâs wrong with you?â San asks from the kitchen as soon as Wooyoung closes the door behind him. Damn, did your shitty mood rub off on him?
âNothing,â Wooyoung shrugs, crossing the living room. âI just left the gym. Did you know Virgin works there?â
âI feel like she appeared out of literally nowhere, and now sheâs everywhere,â San indulges the topic while making a sandwich, which was really stuffing different meats and cheeses between two burger buns. Wooyoung thinks itâs Jonghoâs turn to go to the grocery store.Â
Wooyoung jingles his lanyard at his side, mindlessly listening to the keys playing a small tune. âShe seemed weird,â Wooyoung mumbles, lost in thought again, staring at the makeshift sandwich like it's the most interesting thing in the world.Â
Yunho walks in from the back door, eyes landing on Sanâs sandwich, too. âOoh,â he perks up at the sight. âCan you make me one, too?âÂ
âNot enough bread,â San holds up the plastic bag that once held the burger buns, now empty. âGo yell at Jongho to go to the store.â
Yunho dips his chin toward Wooyoung, âWanna go with me?âÂ
âHell no,â Wooyoung makes a why-would-you-even-ask face. âItâs Jonghoâs turn.âÂ
âHe doesnât follow the list,â Yunho walks to the fridge, peeling the blue sticky note from the stainless steel. Pinching it between two fingers, Yunho shows it to San and Wooyoung like it's a piece of treasure. âDo you see this list? We make this list for a reason.â
âWe see the list,â San and Wooyoung respond as one, voices flat and monotonous.Â
âYouâre coming with me,â Yunho points at Wooyoung with his other hand. âYouâre driving, letâs go.âÂ
He canât even shower first? He still smells like sweat and whatever funk is left from your bad mood raining all over him. He doesnât argue, though, Yunhoâs a high-spirited guy and if thereâs anyone who could fix Wooyoungâs attitude, itâs him.Â
In the car, Yunho rambles about Tuesdayâs party, the guy who warmed his bed that night. It's always been interesting to Wooyoung, how Yunho could play for both teams, how he never leaned toward one side over the other. If Wooyoung was honest with himself, he would have slept with a guy a long, long time ago. That day will come eventually.Â
Somehow even that reminds him of you. Well, your possibly gay boyfriend, which isnât doing great things for aforementioned eventually. He tips his head back until itâs leaning against the headrest, tuning Yunho out while he thinks about your sex life instead of his own. When he wonders if youâve gotten the balls to suck his dick yet, he shivers, and decides to start listening to Yunho again. He fears eventually is nearing closer than he thought.
âDo you ever feel like that?â Oh shit, he wasnât listening. âLike everything is already mapped out for you, but you donât know if youâre following the steps? Or the road?â
âLike the yellow brick road?â Wooyoung quips with a sly grin.Â
Yunho laughs, sinking further into the passenger seat, knees touching the glove compartment. Heâs in workout clothes, sweatshorts, a loose tee, the same headband on his head he always wears. Wooyoungâs dressed in the sameâ perfect grocery store attire.Â
âWhy is everyone so deep today?â Wooyoung wonders out loud, turning into the parking lot of the grocery store. He needs to stop thinking so hard while heâs driving, he doesnât remember getting here.Â
âWho else? And deep in who?â
Wooyoung snorts at his lame joke. âI was listening to Unscripted earlierââ
âYou hate Unscripted,â Yunho doesnât let him finish, snapping his body sideways to look at Wooyoung. âWhy the fuck were you listening to Unscripted?â
âI just was,â Wooyoung snaps. âAnd she was talking about the party on Tuesday, she was there.âÂ
âHow many people away from her do you think we are?â Yunho asks, suddenly excited. âDo you think we know her already? Or do you think sheâs a friend of a friend? Bro, youâve probably fucked her.âÂ
âI have not fucked her,â Wooyoung argues while swiftly backing into a parking spot. The lot wasnât too crowded for a Friday evening, everyone is probably out partying already.Â
âHow do you know?â Yunho unclips his seatbelt, folding his big ass to get out of Wooyoungâs low sports car. When theyâre both out of the car and the door is locked, Yunho continues, âShe doesnât have an identity. Sheâs faceless, identity-less, sheâs a sex ghost.â
âSex ghost,â Wooyoung mumbles under his breath, and heâs reminded why the fuck he hates Unscripted so much. âThat really bothers me, yâknow, that you all listen to her and believe every word she says just because sheâs a woman.â
âYeah, yeah, yeah,â Yunho drags out. âIâve heard it all already. You never mentioned how she got all deep.â
âShe was supposed to talk about bondage, like cuffs and rope and tape and shit, but she started talking about this situationship she has, and how he was at the party, too. She seemed pissed or something.âÂ
Yunho hums, surprised. âI would have thought she was just like you, allergic to relationships of any kind.âÂ
âI thought that too,â Wooyoung nods while getting slapped across the face by the grocery storeâs air conditioning. His nose crinkles, but maybe the air will wash off the rest of his Virgin funk.Â
âThat reminds me,â Yunho wonders out loud as he bee-lines toward the produce. Wooyoung grabs a basket and follows him. âThat girl that almost passed out at the Penny, she was at the party, too.âÂ
âI know, she interrupted my threesome,â Wooyoung says, holding out the basket for Yunho to throw whatever was on the list inside.Â
âSo youâre friends,â Yunho turns, brows furrowed like it was a question. âDid you know her boyfriend doesnât fuck her?â
âUnfortunately,â Wooyoung sighs. Is there no escaping you now?Â
âSheâs pretty,â Yunho turns again, holding up the blue sticky note, probably making sure he isnât missing anything. âIâll never understand staying in a relationship you arenât happy in.âÂ
âSheâs happy in her own strange way, I guess,â Wooyoung catches the vegetable Yunho throws into the basket. âI don't understand staying in a relationship, period. Could you imagine not having the opportunity to fuck two women at once, because you had a partner waiting for you at home?âÂ
âYouâre twisted,â Yunho shakes his head. âMaybe itâs a good thing youâre getting your whore-ism out now. When you find a partner, youâre going to be more loyal than anyone else on the fucking planet, I guarantee it.âÂ
Wooyoung laughs, âSure, and Virginâs gonna break up with her boyfriend and blow through the frat like a fucking freight train.âÂ
When Yunho turns to look at him, thereâs a twinkle in his eye, and Wooyoung swears itâs hope. Thereâs a part of him that doesnât like it, that look, that glimmer.Â
He doesnât know what that says about him.Â
You decided to put together a basket. A good job basket, or a be proud of your hard work basket, or a congratulations basket, even if you know Yeonjun doesnât have his exam results yet. Maybe youâll just call it an I love you basket. You raced to three different stores after your shift in a panic, worried about not only the episode you posted this morning, but also the fact that you kind of fucking hate your boyfriend.
Okay, you donât hate him literally at all, but having sex with him didnât feel right and itâs really freaking you the fuck out. So you need something to do, something tangible your hands can create, something that will help ease the tension in your spine because Yeonjun is supposed to be your forever and you donât know if you can handle anything other than that.
Were you being too direct on the podcast? What if he somehow ends up listening to it, recognizes your voice, and realizes all the things you said were about him? You suppose if Yeonjun ends up listening to Unscripted, hearing himself in your words is the least of your problems.
You stuffed colorful highlighters, his favorite gel pens, trail mix, protein bars, gum, a brain-shaped stress ball and a handwritten note you wrote about fifteen minutes ago into a wicker basket you got for four bucks at the convenience store. You shift each gift in the basket, making sure each one is visible, then make sure the basket as a whole is visually appealing in height and color.
Youâre stalling. Itâs past eleven at night and you have no reason to go to Yeonjunâs condo other than to drop off this basket in hopes that Yeonjun feels your appreciation for all his hard work. Youâre stalling because itâs not about the basket at all.Â
âThatâs cute.â You shriek, jumping off the carpeted floor youâre sitting on. Your roommate, Yunjin is standing in your doorway, staring at the basket you canât seem to finish putting together. âGift for Junie?â
Her hair, a pretty, chocolate brown, is curled up and pinned in different places, framing her face perfectly. Sheâs always so put together, even with a bare face, even in the middle of the night. You wish you could say the same, but you still havenât slept, so youâre pretty sure you still resemble death itself.
âYeah,â you smile, proud of your basket. You look up and over your shoulder at her, âThink heâll like it?â
In her matching pink pajama set, she walks into your bedroom and crouches down into her legs beside you, ignoring all the wrappers and price tags you cut off of each gift strewn across your floor. âWhatâs it for? Are you telling him youâre pregnant or something?â
You choke on your own spit. âYou think Iâd get him colorful highlighters and a brain-shaped stress ball if I was pregnant?â
âStress ball for him to use when he freaks out,â she points as she explains. âThen after heâs accepted it, highlighters to document each trimester and what symptoms youâre feeling.â
âThatâs actually pretty accurate,â you sigh. âHe had an exam today, this is congratulatory or something.â Then on a vulnerable note, you ask, âIf I was pregnant, would you be happy for me?â
âProbably not at first,â she shrugs like that was the obvious answer. âYouâre basically fresh out of the womb, your womb isnât ready to have anything in it yet.â
âStop saying womb,â you scrunch your face, amused. âHe told me the other day that he wants to marry me as soon as we graduate, then he wants to get me pregnant.â
âWho cares what he wants?â She sits back on her butt, elbows landing on her bent knees. âYouâre always worried about what he wants. What do you want?â
âCan I be honest?â you ask, then add, âcan I also be really vulgar for a sec?â She nods with a grin, eyes flaring interest. Vulgar is her favorite. âI want good sex. Like, really good, world-shattering, itâs insane that I just survived sex.â
She doesnât laugh. Her brows furrow, âYouâve been dating Yeonjun for over a year. Give a girl more context.â
You take your bottom lip between your teeth, unease and a little bit of embarrassment creeping up your spine. You donât know why it feels so hard to say the words to her, when you can tell Wooyoung and half his frat with ease.
âWe had sex last night,â youâre basically whispering, your voice is so low. âIâve been askingâ basically begging for⌠rougher sex, I donât know. Sex where I actually feel like he wants me. Last night we had sex and it felt like I accidentally got him hard and he just needed to get off or something. It's always like that.â
âHow long?â she asks, her face bent in concern, her already soft features somehow softer. You feel a weight lifted off your chest, maybe itâs because youâre finally confiding in one of your friends, maybe itâs because sheâs a woman. You donât know why you thought that sheâd make fun of you.
âA long time,â your lips flatten, scrunching to one side. Then your chest feels tight, and you can feel the tears forming, but you refuse to let them spill. âHe just told me he wants to marry me, to start a family with me, but I canât even get him to have sex with me half the time, and the other half heâs finishing after legitimately four strokes.â
She frowns, reaching a hand out to land on your arm. âIâm sorry,â her voice is filled with pity. âCan you see yourself marrying him?â
âI did,â you blurt, then correct yourself, âI do. I can, I mean. Or I did until last night, and now Iâm freaking out, so I made this basket.â
She glances at the basket again, everything inside it with cool, calculated eyes. âOne more question, and then Iâm done quizzing you, I swear. Is the basket for you, or is it for him?â
âFor him,â you answer, but your brows furrow. Why would it be for you?
She hums. âYouâre smart, babe. Youâre good at seeing people who arenât used to being seen, youâre good at making them feel special, because you have a big heart, and you care. Shitty sex aside, does he do that for you? Does he see you? Does he make you feel special?â
You swallow, face falling flat, eyes a little wider than they should be. You should be screaming yes, yes, yes at the top of your lungs, but he doesnât. He hasnât made you feel special since the six month mark, when the honeymoon phase was over and your relationship flipped overnight into seeing each other only when it was convenient, scheduled dates made weeks in advance, or the two of you coexisting in the same place but not together.
You donât like how this feels. You donât like how every sign seems to be pointing in the same direction, you wonât accept it. You can fix this, you can make it feel like the first few months again, you can bring back the spark you lost.Â
You wonât give up on him.Â
âIâm gonna bring him the basket,â you avert, quickly standing on your feet, not meeting Yunjinâs gaze.Â
She doesnât move, you can feel her eyes on you from the floor. âWe could have a girlâs night instead, I have face masks in the fridge already. We can make popcorn and watch a movie, you donât have to go there.âÂ
âI want to go there.â You pick up the basket from the floor and grab your purse from your desk, throwing it over your shoulder.Â
Watching you cross the living room, she stays standing in your doorframe, arms crossed. When your fingers touch the door handle, she calls out, âYouâre too young to be this stressed out over a man.âÂ
âHeâs not just a man,â you look at her over your shoulder. âIâm committed to him.âÂ
You quickly turn away, you donât want to see the disappointment in her eyes. You donât know if this is the right choice, if your relationship is worth fighting for, if it should be this much of a battle. Yunjin seems to have the answer, and you donât want to see it spelled out on her face.Â
You keep your gaze straight ahead for the entire walk to Yeonjunâs condo, just in case the bushes along the sidewalk had some insight to add, too. It looks empty from the outside, all the lights are off, from where you stand itâs almost as if no one is home at all. Being a Friday night, three pre-med students should be home, asleep. You shouldnât expect that of Tuesdays, though, you guess. You fish for your keyring from your purse before pushing the key to Yeonjunâs into the lock, turning it, then let yourself inside.Â
The living room is dark. Eerily dark. The lights are off, even the corner lamp, the couch in pristine condition with the throw blanket folded perfectly over the back. You could see well enough from the moonlight pouring in through the windows, painting streaks of silver on the hardwood floor, on the furniture. The door beside Yeonjunâs opens, just enough for you to see Soobinâs dark eyes peeking through, then it opens halfway, and he leans up against the doorframe, his expression blank. No curiosity, no questions, as if he just wants to watch.Â
It makes you panic. Blood surges through your veins, your breath picking up, you rush across the living room and open Yeonjunâs door, expecting to see anything but what was behind it.Â
âNo,â you whisper, taking in the sight before you, even under the blanket of night you could still make out both figures on the bed. The contents of your stomach fall to the floor, blood pounding beneath your skin, âNo, no, this is a dream, Iâm dreaming.âÂ
Beomgyu picks his head up first. Your name tumbles out of his mouth once in confusion, twice in panic, then heâs smacking Yeonjunâs bare back, his bare arms, pushing your naked boyfriend off of his own naked body like itâd somehow hide what youâve already seen.Â
âIâm dreaming, right?â you ask Beomgyu, who stares at you with terrified, wide eyes as Yeonjun blinks his eyes open. A little louder, your voice cracking on the word, you ask again, âRight?!â
âYouâre cheating on me?â your voice cracks again on cheating. âYouâre cheating on me with Beomgyu?â
Yeonjun sits up, confusion still sprinkled across his features, âWho? What are you doing here? What?âÂ
âWake the fuck up,â youâre yelling now, and Beomgyu is scurrying off the sheets, trying to catch his footing on the floor. You point at him, âDonât fucking move.â
Beomgyu stills like you froze him. Yeonjun comes to, glancing at you, then Beomgyu, then his face contorts in panic. âBaby, I can explainââ
âYou can explain Beomgyu naked in your fucking bed?!â Youâve never yelled at him before. Heâs never seen you truly angry. âYou fucked me yesterday and Beomgyuâs naked in your fucking bed, Yeonjun?!âÂ
âYou had sex with her yesterday?â Beomgyu interrupts, voice sharp, hurt laced into the question.Â
Yeonjun sits up fully, pulling the sheets over his lap, and then he holds them over his obviously naked fucking body as he crawls toward the foot. âBaby, itâs not what it looks likeâ heâs just, we were studying, and then one thing led to anotherââ
You laugh, dropping the basket to the floor. Yeonjun stiffens, and you know itâs because heâs never heard that laugh before. âStudying for what? Did you even have an exam today?â You turn to Beomgyu whoâs already looking at you, features still blown out with terror. âAnswer me, you lying piece of shit.âÂ
Beomgyuâs head even stutters as he tries to shake it, âN-no.âÂ
âGyu!â Yeonjun grits out under his breath, then he turns to you. âItâs not what it looks like, just let me explain.âÂ
You take a step closer to Beomgyu whoâs hands are shaking as he covers his bare crotch. His chest is sinking and rising rapidly, you can smell the fear on him. âHow long?â Beomgyu blinks. âHow long have you been fucking my boyfriend, Beomgyu?!âÂ
âT-three months,â he stumbles over the words, taking a step away from you, his chest growing red in asymmetrical splotches.Â
âBeomgyu!â Yeonjun is yelling now, panic ebbed in his tone, like he could have lied his way out of this. You think he might still try. âHeâs lying, baby, listen to me. Listen to me, Iâm your boyfriend.âÂ
âIs this why you wonât have sex with me?â you finally ask, reality becoming crystal clear. âBe honest, Yeonjun, I already fucking caught you, thereâs no point in lying anymore. Is he why you wonât fuck me?â
Yeonjunâs face is beet red, color bleeding down onto his shoulders, his chest. Shame, panic, guilt, you couldnât pinpoint what emotion has his clamped fingers shaking on the sheet.Â
âYes,â Yeonjun whispers. âBut itâs just sex,â he defends, âthereâs no feelings involved. I love you, I want to marry you.âÂ
Beomgyuâs neck snaps, horror in his eyes, spilling from his dropped jaw. You would have already known he was lying even if you didnât get the confirmation from Beomgyu.Â
âI brought you this,â you pick up the basket from the floor, tossing it onto the bed, Yeonjun jumps backward as the contents spill across his baby blue sheets. His dark eyes turn glossy, a frown bending his lips as he glances at each gift. âYou donât deserve my effort or my kindness, you never deserved a second of the time Iâve wasted caring about you. Loving you.â
Your words come out even, almost practiced, as if youâve been waiting a long, long time to say the words. Your chest aches, of course, but thereâs a certain weightlessness to your body, something close to relief. You should be angrier. You should be tearing apart his bedroom, beating his ass and Beomgyuâs.
You canât bring yourself to move an inch.You turn to the younger man, âIâve known you since the day I met Yeonjun, youâve been my friend all this time, Beomgyu. Youâre just as guilty as he is.â
âIâm sorry,â Beomgyu squeaks out. âIâm sorry⌠Iâ I love him.âÂ
You give him a weak smile, âSo do I.â Turning to Yeonjun again, silent tears stream down his cheeks now, his upper body slouched over, defeated. You keep your shoulders back, steady. âDonât call me, donât text me, donât come to my apartment. Forget I ever existed.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â he croaks, his voice heavy from crying. He picks his head up, panic still webbed across his features, âIâm notâ Iâm not gay. It's just⌠Beomgyu. Itâs just Beomgyu.â
Anger strikes, but instead itâs because Wooyoung was fucking right. Again. Godâ how the fuck are you gonna tell him? After you flipped the fuck out on him earlier, you donât know if youâll ever get the chance to tell him. You wouldnât approach someone after they snapped at you, but it might be for the better, anyway.
âI donât fucking care what you are,â you blurt, harshly. âI care that you cheated on me, especially after I've spent weeks trying to figure out what's wrong with us. I hope you two are happy together.â
âIâm sorry,â Yeonjun yells out when you turn on your heel. âI love you, Iâll call youâ Iâm going to fix this, pleaseââÂ
You close the door behind you, pushing out a staggered, broken breath from between your lips. Soobin stands across from you, leaning against the back of the couch, body slouched casually like heâs been listening to the entire ordeal.Â
âHe really thinks he can fix it,â Soobin says first. You can hear Yeonjun yelling at Beomgyu behind the door. âHeâs been trying to stop sleeping with Gyu for the past month. Couldnât bring himself to.â
âYou knew,â you whisper your understanding, jaw locked. Thereâs venom on your tongue as you ask, âWas it entertaining for you, watching me try over and over?â
Soobin shakes his head. âNot necessarily,â he cranes his neck, sinking into his shoulders, fingers clamped over the back of the couch. âI didnât think itâd take so long for you to figure it out. It wasnât my place to say anything.âÂ
You push off the door, a laugh coated in sarcasm tumbling off your tongue. âRight,â you nod, âbecause your loyalty is to Yeonjun, not to me.âÂ
Soobin shrugs. âIf a guy stops fucking a girl like you, thereâs only one clear answer why.â
âYouâre just as fucking guilty as they are,â you spit out, striding past Soobin, towards the front door. âI hope I never see the three of you ever again.âÂ
âI wouldnât bet your money on it,â Soobin calls after you. âItâs a small campus.âÂ
for mature audiences only, minors will be stockaded in the town square
⢠a/n: the long awaited... | this is NOT in any way, shape, or form meant to depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities, please and thank you.
⢠summary: everyone knows choi san. the choi san. and the pornstar wonder boy just invited you to do a collab with him
⢠word count: 35.7K
⢠warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | masturbation (f), oral (m,f), p->v, unprotected sex (don't do that), squirting, edging, dirty talk, san makes a Crazy first impression, cowgirl/riding, bondage (f, not reader), slight yeosang x reader (mentioned), porn industry, blowjob, fingering, basically just everything youâd find in a porn
You love that you can wake up whenever you want, and that you have no set schedule to live by. The only deadlines you have to worry about are the ones you make for yourself. You love your beautiful apartment that you didnât need anyone elseâs 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? Itâs a dream.Â
And itâs easy money, giving men a fantasy for the night.Â
Thatâs what you sell, the idea of you. In everyday life, you donât pout nearly as much as you do on camera, nor do you talk as sweetly to strangers. Some of them, though, arenât 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.Â
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. Heâd worn a face mask to protect his identity, but it had been so obvious that heâs 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. Â
His whole face had turned red when you showed him the number of views, hiding behind his hands for good measure. Heâs always been shy, it was a damn miracle you even got him to do it in the first place.Â
Since then, youâve been living quite comfortably. Yeosang, too. Despite your efforts to convince him to create his own account for people to subscribe to, heâs maintained his âinnocenceâ. However, recently heâs been asking you more and more about the details and dynamics of running an account like yours. Youâre almost afraid to jinx it, like if you ask him outright if heâs thinking about it, heâll forget the whole thing and never do it. Who are you to potentially accidentally deny the general paying population of your hot friend?Â
He may become even more popular than me, you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.Â
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.Â
Nine hundred, and climbing.Â
Whoa.
You let out a low whistle at the number, the highest youâve ever seen it just for the amount of people waiting. Youâre 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 canât see the audience youâve gathered, you still feel that there are nine hundred pairs of eyes on you in your bedroom. Thereâs a nervous flutter in your chest that you canât seem to shake off in the dwindling minutes before your stream begins.Â
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 tonightâs performance.Â
A âperformanceâ is basically all it is.  Â
Your fingers hover over the trackpad of your laptop, counting down the seconds until there are none left, and you click âGo Liveâ.Â
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 â and then some â just for the chance to hear you read their username and thank them in your sweet voice.Â
So easy. Â
You saturate your greeting with honey, looking up into the laptop camera, eyes round and innocent.Â
âHi, everyone,â you sing, giggling for all of the people vying for your attention. Each comment is sent with the hope that youâll 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.Â
You lean back on your hands, pretending that you donât know what youâre 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.Â
âMy day was okay, thank you,â you purr, knowing you just made someone nearly cream their pants by answering their question. âBut⌠Iâve just been so lonely.âÂ
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 theyâll be there for you, that theyâll never leave. Itâs 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.Â
[user75846] will yeo be joining you?
You read the comment aloud, shaking your head in quiet defeat. âNo, itâs just me tonight.âÂ
Some comments beg for his return, others are happy that itâs just you â the jealous types â 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.Â
âIâve been so sad and lonely all day⌠you guys will help me, right?âÂ
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 donât 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. Thereâs no rush â not for you, at least. But one comment catches your eye because of its impatience.  Â
[mntn3000]: start.
Very blunt. You donât recognize the username as one of your regulars or subscribers. Whoever this is must be new. Youâve run and maintained a rather strict program with your subscribers when it comes to what they say in the live chat â politeness being one of the main rules. The lack of a âpleaseâ 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 heâll blow his load and leave. It happens. For now, youâll have fun with him. Teach this newcomer some manners.Â
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.Â
âOh dear⌠âmntn3000â just said âstartâ. No âpleaseâ? Will someone let him know how this works?â You keep your voice sugary, making sure everyone knows you arenât hurt or being stuck-up, but that youâre rather amused at the comment.Â
Almost immediately, upon request, you see one of your regulars tag the newcomer in a message explaining the chat rules.Â
âThank you, Woo,â 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.Â
âWooâ, your nickname for him from his username, has become somewhat of an anonymous friend to you. Heâs subscribed to your highest level tier and the VIP extras that you offer, including private shows and a group chat on Discord. Heâs always the first to step in if someone says something out of line or disrespectful in any way. Your own personal guard dog.Â
Whoever he is, âmntn3000â doesnât say anything to Wooâs message.Â
Fourteen hundred people now.Â
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 youâll make tonight, it just makes you want to put on an even better show.Â
âIf you want somethingâŚâ you purr, taking your shirt off completely. The comments erupt. âAsk nicely~â you tease, giggling to yourself.
A donation pops up immediately, the sum of which nearly makes you gape.  Â
[mntn3000] has donated $500Â
Well⌠thatâs certainly nice.Â
[mntn3000]: start, kitten
Thatâll do it.Â
Youâre quick to control your reaction to the generous donation. However, now you canât help but feel like youâre performing under pressure. Some of your other patrons comment on it, but youâre on autopilot now.Â
One more deep breath in and your tight little shorts soon join your shirt on the floor.Â
You exhale audibly, turning the breath into a quiet moan as your hand continues to explore your own body. This time, you donât 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. Itâs easy to pretend that the touch belongs to someone elseâs manipulation.Â
Itâs more than just a little confusing for you to immediately imagine itâs Yeosang, if not friendship-wise. The two of you have mutually agreed that youâre platonic. The collaboration was just⌠a friend helping a friend. Moreso than the views and money you earned from it, youâre 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 canât remember exactly right now, youâre a bit preoccupied.Â
You pry your eyes open to read the chat, wanting to know if theyâre enjoying the view so far.Â
[user92834]: i keep expecting yeo to show up ă ă Â i miss him
You whine, only able to nod once or twice. âI miss Yeo, too.âÂ
Now youâre 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 âplatonicallyâ overstimulating you for the better part of an hour? Maybe. You think you just need to get laid soon. Admittedly, itâs been rather long since you have been. Longer than most of your viewers will ever believe. Â
âI wish someone was here to help me,â you blink slowly into the camera, pouting again.Â
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.Â
Except one.Â
You havenât seen that âmntn3000â guyâs username pop up since he sent the generous donation earlier. You wonder if heâs still watching. Maybe heâs embarrassed from earlier.Â
Whatever. Heâs more likely just another background viewer. You probably wonât hear from him again.Â
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 everythingâs in view. Satisfied with what you see, you resume touching yourself, continuing to loudly suck on your fingers for good measure.Â
[user82392] has donated $5
[user01743] has donated $20
[puppyu.u] has donated $50
[mars9843] has donated $50Â
[puppyu.u] has donated $100
You canât help but smile, watching the silent competition between your viewers. Every time someone ups the amount theyâre willing to drop on you, thereâs dozens more who are willing to match it. You feel like youâre at auction. Who will win in the end? Usually, itâs one of your regulars, the ones with access to the private Discord, who come out on top. Youâre betting on âpuppyu.uâ tonight. He seems like he has something to prove.Â
No oneâs quite willing to match âmntn3000ââs five hundred dollar starting offer just yet.Â
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.Â
But heâs quiet now. Maybe he spent all he had in one go. It happens sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes.Â
Youâre not sure why youâre so hung up on this random user. Youâre 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.Â
And you have just the thing for it.Â
While they spend money to achieve imagined dominance over the others in the chat, you reach just offscreen to grab your favorite dildo. Itâs 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 youâre content, grateful to have something in your mouth again. In reality, this is just so that it goes inside of you easier.  Â
This time, you donât make them wait.Â
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, youâll pay less and less attention to the chat, only focusing on the pleasure youâre creating for yourself.Â
But this time, somethingâs off.Â
No matter what you do, you canât 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 youâre too tense to feel anything, but itâs quite hard to relax when youâre this frustrated already. Youâre not about to let the audience know that, but itâs discouraging. You donât like to lie, but again, itâs 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. Â
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. Itâs so close you can almost taste it, quickening your pulse and electrifying every vein in your body. Thereâs 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. Â
You make a sharp, high-pitched noise out of frustration, which hopefully comes across as ecstacy instead. Youâre not even enjoying it anymore, and your hand begins to slow down the pumps of the dildo as your fake moans increase again. Thereâs a trick you know to make your legs look like theyâre realistically shaking from an orgasm â learned by ego-boosting one too many failed relationships and one night stands in the past â and you use it now.Â
Ugh.Â
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.Â
What the fuck was that? You think to yourself, tilting your head back to hide your look of confusion. Youâre 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.Â
Steeling yourself as best you can, you straighten and take a look at the chat.Â
All worries melt away at once as soon as you notice the heart emojis that flood the comment section. Youâre 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, youâre proven to be loved no matter what.Â
There are a few more donations, although theyâve slowed down now that youâre 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, thereâs one username youâre stuck on that youâre not seeing. Not yet. You hope youâre 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.
Itâs 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.Â
He only sends one word. Four letters.Â
[mntn3000]: cuteÂ
[mntn3000] has donated $1000
[mntn3000] has left the stream
Huh. Your spinning head almost registers that. A good thing about streaming is that youâre 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 thatâs 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.Â
âThereâs thousands of others you could have spent your time with tonight, so thank you for choosing me. I hope I made it worth it.âÂ
In the middle of catching your breath, you manage a small grin into the camera. With a whispered, âgoodnightâ, 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.Â
You force yourself to move after five minutes, showering, changing into new, comfier clothes and taking your makeup off in the bathroom until itâs just you in the mirror, and not the character. Itâs not until youâre 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.  Â
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.Â
[yeoyeođť]: another successful day at the office?
You canât help but grin, burying yourself under the covers and texting him back quickly.Â
[y/nđ¸]: another small fortune đĽą
[yeoyeođť]: still wanna hang out tomorrow?
[yeoyeođť]: or is the princess too tiredÂ
[y/nđ¸]: stfu đ
[y/nđ¸]: yes pls i miss you :(Â
[yeoyeođť]: fine fineÂ
[yeoyeođť]: iâll be over at noonÂ
[yeoyeođť]: you better be awake -.-Â
[y/nđ¸]: goodnight pretty boy!
[yeoyeođť]: đđť
[yeoyeođť]: goodnightÂ
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.Â
$14,601.Â
You whistle lowly at the sight of it. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars for thirty minutes of âworkâ. If you spend and save wisely, youâll never have to set foot in an office for as long as you live.Â
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. Â
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, youâre 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 youâll ask Yeosang if heâd like to come too. The thought excites you, making you want to stay up and look at potential destinations.Â
Closing out of the calculator and banking apps, youâre just about to go on TikTok to look through your âdream vacayâ folder, when a notification directs your eyes upward. Itâs from your email, but it's no promotional message from one of the many stores you shop at, nor is it spam.Â
The sender is simply âH.J Kimâ, accompanied by three words in the subject line: âExclusive Collaboration Offerâ.Â
That certainly piques your interest, although it could just be a scam. Since you donât have an agent, youâve learned the hard way how to filter out those who just wish to take your hard-earned â well⌠earned â money away from you. When you were just starting out, you had to change numerous passwords more than once. Youâre 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 doesnât use more words than he has to, and the word choice seems rather official. Not as scammy as youâre used to.Â
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,Â
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.Â
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.Â
Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to the possibility of working together.Â
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 youâre reading it correctly. Thereâs simply no way someone like Choi San knows you exist, and if he does, then how? Sure, youâre gaining popularity on cam platforms, but you didnât think the industry on the other side of the coin would take notice. Maybe youâve just been naive. Itâs essentially the same thing but without a script or team involved. You do everything yourself â the lights, the camera, the action. The idea of even attempting what âAfterdarkâ is known for is quite daunting. The thought of potentially meeting San even more so.Â
Everyone knows Choi San.Â
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.Â
Itâs still not fully clicking that youâve been offered a chance to work with him. Not yet. Most likely, itâll hit you in the morning when you check your phone for the millionth time, making sure you didnât 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.Â
âFuckinâ hellâŚâ you whisper, pressing your palm to your mouth, reading the email over just one more time. Thatâs what you tell yourself anyway.Â
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?Â
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 Sanâs videos. For research. Literally. Your thought process is to refresh your memory, imagine yourself in the actressâ 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.Â
It starts off like many others of its kind, a flashy montage of whatâs to come â pun unfortunately intended â to entice viewers to keep watching. You skip ahead, like many do, not caring for whatever âplotâ 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 heâs a decent actor. You stop skipping through it towards the end of their conversation, landing at the proposition and steadily rising scripted passion.Â
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. Itâs not fiery or intimidating, no, itâs something much worse.Â
Desire.Â
He mumbles something under his breath that you donât 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. Youâre 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 wonât.Â
Because the next time you skip, impatience gnawing at you to just see and know what he does, youâre thrown right into the fray.Â
The camera is almost cinematic, capturing precise angles where everything can be seen, the lighting low and sensual. Theyâre 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 actressâ eyes, but you can tell right away sheâs 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 sheâs getting just as much out of this experience as he will. At this point, youâre 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.Â
When sheâs 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 mustâve 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.Â
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.Â
Your thighs clench. Thatâd be you.Â
His voice drifts languidly from your laptop speakers, melting your brain even further. âYes, baby, thatâs it. There you go⌠such a good girl.âÂ
A girlish squeal gets stuck in your throat and you press your lips together to ensure you donât let it out. You havenât even said yes yet. There could be conditions you donât agree with, payment arguments. He could be an asshole for all you know. Or this could all be a very elaborate and convincing scam.Â
Still, just in case it is real, and for the sake of âresearchâ, you keep watching.Â
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 itâs like to kiss him. Your hands itch to reach for your phone and text Yeosang to tell him everything, however, youâre rather busy holding them still at the moment. Â
You appreciate how he doesnât 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.Â
San checks in with her quietly, and with a nod from her and another peck on the lips, heâs 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 youâre almost sure she didnât realize she even said anything. Sheâs staring up at him like heâs a deity. Like heâs come down from heaven just for her. And sheâs not acting.Â
One thing you know for sure: youâd be stupid to decline the offer.Â
You consider your mind made up.Â
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 doesnât care. Itâll be in Mr. Kim Hongjoongâs 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.Â
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 oâclock 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.Â
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 doesnât mean you have to ruin his as well. Your fingers absentmindedly tap the carton, only two sips deep in your drink. Hm.Â
Youâre 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 Yeosangâs REM cycle.Â
Not expecting a response so soon, your eyes widen a bit when you see that youâve gotten a response back already. The quickness makes you a little wary. Scams usually are quick to respond back too.Â
Or, this âHongjoongâ guy may have a sleep schedule quite like yours. After all, you responded rather quickly to his first email.Â
__________________________
Hi Miss Y/N,Â
Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.Â
The next steps in moving forward are rather simple. I will ask you to fill out a form â which I have linked to this e-mail â 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.Â
 After you have sent that and we go over it, I would like to meet with you â either in person or through video call â 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. Â
As always, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Looking forward to hearing from you again.Â
âWe are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.âÂ
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: âWe have been admiring your work for a while nowâŚâ Not just the company. âWeâ as inâŚÂ
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 canât stop reading this new message. Thereâs so much to unpack, even though itâs so straightforward. As of right now, in regards to meeting with Kim Hongjoong, youâre leaning towards just a video call. Youâre still not quite totally convinced this isnât an elaborate prank of some kind. Maybe a weird fan who wants this to happen but thereâs no truth to it. But again⌠you donât get that vibe. Not from how professional this seems. And a crazy fan wouldnât offer to bring along another woman to make you feel more comfortable, heâd insist on meeting alone, under the guise of âprotecting our privacyâ.Â
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.Â
Dammit, Yeosang, why canât you be awake right now, you think and you huff dramatically, burying your face in your hands. Heâll certainly get an earful of all of this tomorrow afternoon. Â Â
But you decide you need to talk this through to somebody right now. Or some people.Â
Even though you just went live, youâre quick to open your Discord app, not even bothering to send a warning message to tell your exclusive members that youâre going live again. This time, just for them. You know theyâll come. They always do.Â
Once you have your laptop adjusted and headphones on, youâre ready to go. You click the microphone button and wait. Â
As expected, four of them join immediately. You regularly wonder how theyâre 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.Â
âHi guys! I have big news,â you smile into the camera, reading all the messages as they pop up.Â
[woogoesthere]: tell ussssssss!!!!!
[fix0nmi]: đ?
[mars9843]: what is it cutie?
[puppyu.u]: hi baby why the secret meeting?? đ
You take a minute to let them get all their guesses out, increasing their desperation to know what youâre hiding from them. Hopefully theyâll take the news well. As far as you can tell, none of them specifically come across as the parasocial jealous type, but you donât 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.Â
âIâve been offered to do a collab with someone fromâŚâ You pause before saying the company name for dramatic effect. âAfterdark.â
Youâre 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 â and charitable â fans. The abrupt absence makes your heart plummet to your stomach.Â
It takes a full minute before anyone says anything. The longest minute of your whole life.Â
[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.Â
âShould I be worried?â you half joke.Â
The immediate responses in the comments are overwhelming and collective:
[puppyu.u]: yes!!!!!!Â
[mars9843]: be afraid, be very afraidÂ
[fix0nmi]: heâs gonna wreck you lmaoÂ
[fix0nmi]: icw to watch đ¤Ş
[puppyu.u]: same đđđ
[mars9843]: if you could barely handle yeoâŚâŚâŚ
Your confident smile fades slightly, the corners of your mouth dropping back down as you read the multiple comments confirming what youâve been wondering.Â
[woogoesthere]: guys stop ur gonna scare her ă ă
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.Â
[puppyu.u]: well itâs trueÂ
[woogoesthere]: we should be encouraging tho >:(Â
[fix0nmi]: yeah or else she wonât do it đ
[mars9843]: âŚÂ
[mars9843]: y/n weâre just kiddinggggg
[fix0nmi]: youâll be fine~! >:)Â
[woogoesthere]: -.-Â
[puppyu.u]: drink lots of water beforehand!Â
[woogoesthere]: you pervs are so annoying
âI can do it!â You try to regain your previous confidence.Â
A shroud of doubt begins to creep up over your shoulders, weighing you down. Youâre able to hide it well, but you go quiet. Quieter than usual when youâre live. You donât like silences that last too long. Unfortunately, your sudden silence is noticeable.Â
[puppyu.u]: babyyyyyyÂ
[puppyu.u]: donât listen to us weâre just teasingÂ
[fix0nmi]: haha sorry baby
[mars9843]: youâre gonna be great, pretty girlÂ
[fix0nmi]: canât wait to see it ;)Â
[woogoesthere]: you ARE gonna be great
[woogoesthere]: choi san has no idea what an honor this is fr ă ă
That last message brings your smile back, tugging at the corners of your mouth until you give into it. âWooâ is right. You have to remember who the fuck you are. Choi San sought you out specifically. Thereâs no need to be nervous about anything. Itâs a different side of an industry that youâre already accustomed to, thatâs all. You just have to adapt to however it operates for one day, and if you hate it, youâll never have to do it again. And hey, youâll get to say youâve had that first and only experience with San of all people.Â
What a debut.Â
Your loyal fans must notice the confidence boost youâre experiencing because theyâre quick to praise it in the chat.Â
[fix0nmi]: there she is :)Â
[woogoesthere]: ugh ur too cuteÂ
[puppyu.u]: fr that bastard has no idea how lucky he is ă ă
[mars9843]: he better be nice to u >:(Â
âAww, you guys are so sweet,â you giggle softly, enjoying their attention and their praises. Your nerves are somewhat settled for the time being, though you canât promise they wonât return once you open your eyes tomorrow morning. You wonder what Yeosang will say about it.Â
Leaning back against your headboard, you exhale deeply â maybe even adding a little hint of a whine-like noise to keep them entertained. âPervsâ, as âWooâ put it, indeed. Not that you minded.Â
You hum to yourself and mention how much better theyâve made your night, and they eat it up.Â
âThank you all for your love and support. Truly.â   Â
You talk with them for a while longer, reciprocating their interest in you by asking them about their days and what theyâre doing tomorrow. One of the silent viewers goes offline, and you canât say that you blame them â no one should still be awake at this hour. Youâre not sure if youâll fall asleep quickly after you log off, so maybe thatâs 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 itâs their choice to stay and talk, but still. Odds are that at least one of them has to be up early tomorrow morning. They wonât leave until you do.Â
âIâm gonna go to bed, guys. Thank you for staying up and chatting with me.â You smile, watching all of their usernames simultaneously start typing again.Â
[mars9843]: goodnight cutie
[fix0nmi]: night babe ;)
[woogoesthere]: aww have a good night jagi <333Â
[puppyu.u]: sweet dreams baby <3
[puppyu.u]: <3333
You giggle, noticing âpuppyu.uââs competitiveness. Before âWooâ can start a war to see how many 3âs they can add to their hearts, you quickly blow them all a kiss and end the call.Â
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.Â
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. Itâs from Woo. Your exclusive members have the username of your âbusinessâ Venmo account to send you money outside of cams, if they choose to. The message he attaches to the money makes you laugh: âiâm not losing to puppyu.u so easily. goodnight<333333333333âÂ
Oh, man.Â
Make that $14,751 now.Â
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, itâs 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.Â
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 canât look away. A shiver runs through you when you picture how his hands held her with such gentle strength, and the addictive moans he wasnât afraid to let out. The same thought echoes until you finally fall asleep: thatâll be you. Â
Against all odds, and seven missed alarms later, you manage to wake up â albeit, exhausted â around ten oâclock. Plenty of time before Yeosang is due to come over.Â
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.Â
From what you can find, youâve 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 couldâve succeeded in any field of his choosing, but his candor is notoriously present and blunt whenever he gets asked why heâs gone into this profession: âI like sex. I happen to be good at it, so why not?âÂ
You get it. Easy money.Â
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 â and counting â 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 âmntn3000â 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 Sanâs. 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⌠âdesiresâ. Youâre 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.Â
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.Â
You rest your head in your hands, groaning to no one in particular. After all the women heâs been with, you hope you can meet his expectations. A worthy costar. Same industry, different department.Â
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.Â
âHey, sorry.â You apologize, ushering him in and locking the door behind him.Â
âI knew you wouldnât be awake,â he grins, making himself right at home on your couch. âIs going live for thirty minutes really all it takes to make you catatonic the rest of the day?âÂ
You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder as you sit down next to him. âShut up, itâs not because of that. Well⌠not exactly.âÂ
Yeosang quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. âGo on, then. Whatâs up?âÂ
You pull out your phone, ready to show him the evidence to back up what youâre about to say. The original email is still unchanged as you glance down at it, which is encouraging. Another reminder that you didnât make this all up in your head. It didnât happen in a dream, thereâs hard evidence staring you in the face.Â
Well, now or never. Out with it.Â
âI, um⌠I got an offer to work with Choi San.â Your voice toes the line between excitement and cautious optimism. If anyoneâs opinion matters to you at all, itâs Yeosangâs.Â
Yeosangâs eyebrows raise at the name. âLike⌠the Choi San?â
âThe Choi San, yes.â You nod, confirming itâs exactly who heâs thinking about.Â
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 youâve grown out of, only to be proven wrong in times like these.Â
Yeosangâs face is serious as he reads it. You can tell heâs 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.      Â
âAre you gonna do it?â 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. Heâs just worried about you. Itâs more⌠public than youâre used to.Â
âI donât know,â you shrug, answering him honestly. âIâve 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?â
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. Â
Yeosang shrugs, âDoesnât 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 donât.â
He makes it sound so easy. Should it be?Â
âYeah, but⌠I value your opinion.â You mumble, not outwardly saying what youâre thinking. But he reads your mind anyway.Â
âY/N, itâs 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 wouldâve told you a long time ago. Yâknow⌠before I collabed with you.âÂ
At this, you canât help but laugh, knowing heâs right. A pressure you didnât 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.Â
âIâm just worried that you wonât survive the experience,â Yeosang says dramatically, covering his eyes with his arm and sneaking a smile your way.Â
âStop, what do you mean?â You push him, playfully.Â
âYou said you researched him, right?âÂ
You nod, wondering where heâs going with this. Is there something youâve missed? You feel like youâre the only one left out of a well-known inside joke. You try to think back to the videos youâve seen of him. Sure, you havenât watched his whole filmography, but nevertheless, youâd like to believe you know roughly what to expect of him when the day comes.Â
âDid you watch the ones heâs done for âFantasyâ?â Yeosang smirks.Â
You blink, trying to remember if you did. To be totally honest, you werenât really paying much attention to which company was posting the videos. Just that San was in them.Â
âI donât know⌠maybe?âÂ
Yeosang shakes his head, already seeming to know the answer. âYouâd know if you did,â he says definitively. âIf you wanna know what heâs really capable of, watch some of those.âÂ
You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, frustrated that no one will just tell you what theyâre talking about. You only have one guess, that it may be due to the fact that youâve 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 itâs not like youâre clueless when it comes to the different kinds of sexual encounters one can experience. Youâve watched porn before â 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 wonât survive him?Â
A part of you kind of doesnât want to know. You donât 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 donât want that. No, youâre determined even more so now to see this through. To prove everyone wrong. More importantly, though, to prove it to yourself.Â
âSounds like he sought you out though,â 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 arenât reading too much into it after all. âKinda seems like this Hongjoong guy and San are fans of yours.âÂ
You hide your face in your hands and groan, making Yeosang laugh at your rare display of shyness. Itâs frustratingly unclear to you why the idea of him watching your content makes your cheeks burn so much. Youâre obviously comfortable with people seeing your body and earning a profit from it, but you like the anonymity of the people watching. You simply donât want to know. Perhaps itâs because heâs about to not be a faceless viewer anymore. Rather, a colleague of sorts.Â
Also, in a way, you tend to view camâing 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.Â
âSounds like it,â you agree. âI mustâve done something he likes to pique his interest.âÂ
Yeosang shrugs, a playful grin tugging at his lips. âOr he saw the collab and this is all just an elaborate ruse to get to me.âÂ
Youâre grateful to relax enough to laugh again. âOh, I bet.â You say, playing along. Though, part of you does wonder for a brief moment if San had watched the collab and thatâs why he thought youâd be a good partner for his next project. Itâs definitely plausible.   Â
âSo,â Yeosang leans back against the couch, crossing his legs, âwhat do you have to do now?âÂ
Remembering the phone in your hand, you look down at it, visualizing that attachment Hongjoong sent you. Yet to be opened. âThereâs a form I have to fill out, I think itâs some kind of consent form.âÂ
He nods, âYeah, thatâd make sense.âÂ
Thereâs 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 youâre thinking a little too hard about something. Â
âDo you want me to go through it with you?â He asks, though he thinks he knows what youâll say.Â
âNo, Iâll do it myself. Itâs gonna ask like⌠in depth questions,â you insinuate, almost shyly.Â
Yeosang doesnât press you on it, which you appreciate. But you know heâs probably thinking thereâs not much he doesnât know about you. After all, he was fingering you to high heaven in front of a camera only a week ago. Still, he doesnât push your privacy or your boundaries. Itâs one of the many things that makes you feel safe with him.Â
Breezing past the subject, knowing you probably need to relieve some stress, he picks up one of the gaming controllers on your coffee table.Â
âRematch?â 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 âinnocentlyâ 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.Â
âYouâre on,â you agree, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as he scoots away from you on the couch.Â
Thereâll be no âaccidentsâ this time. But maybe youâll think of something. Â
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.Â
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 oâclock, yawning and stretching as he gets up to go home â he mentions that he promised his friend heâd 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.  Â
Almost as soon as Yeosang leaves, youâre 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.Â
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.Â
In another tab on incognito mode, you hesitantly type in the search for âchoi san redfantasyâ and bite the inside of your cheek as the page loads. The typical ads pop up before youâre 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. Itâs 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. Thatâs the seller right there. Audiences are in the market for Choi San.Â
There is no plot this time, at least none that you can discern. The lighting is darker, as well as the mood. Thereâs less build up, the action begins almost straight away after the company logo screen fades away.Â
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.Â
San.Â
â...didnât you?â 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.Â
âYou misbehaved today, didn't you?â He purrs, nodding once to give her permission to speak.Â
âYes, sir.â She replies, obediently.Â
The hand in her hair is taken away, and yet she never takes her eyes off of him. You imagine thatâs probably what she was instructed to do⌠but youâre starting to think a director wasnât 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.Â
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 Sanâs design.Â
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 heâs 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 heâs just taking his time, waiting for her to act first. His tempo is carefully curated and well-calculated. He reacts, even though he knows theyâre both just enacting what this company wants to see. Like this isnât just for the cameras. Every scene is serious to him, and yet it doesnât come across as corny or too much. You wonder why he doesnât 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 wouldâve had many rejections.Â
Then again, you imagine itâd be rather hard to make a smooth transition into becoming a serious and respected actor after being in adult films.Â
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. Itâs evident a long time has passed because she keeps shifting her weight, knees never quite finding relief on the floor.  Â
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, Sanâs grip returns to her hair, pulling her closer to his clothed crotch.Â
âBe actually useful for once, baby.â He says sweetly, like heâs praising instead of degrading her. âEarn it.âÂ
You can tell sheâs 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. Heâs not even hard yet. No, he fully expects her to do all the work for him, including getting him ready.Â
While sheâs⌠busy, he lazily takes off his watch, setting it aside and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just above his elbows. Youâve 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 youâve become, panties starting to cling to you.Â
His face is stony, refusing to give away what heâs thinking. Thatâs 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 doesnât bother looking up at him for reassurance anymore. Heâs not giving her anything to work with.Â
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 heâs bored. Or rather, disappointed. From what you can discern from the print against his pants, heâs only half-hard.Â
âYou donât want it that badly, do you?â He asks like heâs already decided her answer.Â
Frantically, she shakes her head, denying his assumption. âNo, no sir, I do want it. Please, I want it soââÂ
Unfortunately for her, his mind is already made up.Â
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 girlâs 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.Â
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.
âSince you couldnât wait and just had to touch yourself before you came to me, Iâm gonna teach you some patience.âÂ
As if the last few times werenât enough, an involuntary sound escapes from her lips. Soon enough, her ass is red and bruised, Sanâs hand quick to punish her for making noise.Â
âBe quiet,â he reminds sternly, âor you get nothing.âÂ
Thatâs good motivation. Suddenly, you feel like you canât make a single noise either.Â
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.Â
Thereâs 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. Itâs when she cranes her neck, attempting to look back to see what heâs doing, that he turns it onto the highest setting and presses it against her clit in one swift motion.Â
Poor thing gasps and screams at the intense, unexpected vibrations, earning her another brutal round of spanks.Â
âShhh,â he hushes her softly, âbe quiet. Donât move.âÂ
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 Sanâs 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, youâd grab your own vibrator from the drawer, but you canât tear your gaze from the screen. You donât want to miss anything, and you feel like pausing it would disrupt the experience. If this is potentially whatâs in store for you, and she doesnât get a break, you donât get one either.Â
Her fists tighten and grab at nothing, still bound behind her back. You can tell sheâs 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 sheâs managing to hold on.Â
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.Â
He takes the vibrator away, switching it off.Â
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.Â
âSee what I have to do?â He sighs, trailing the head of the vibrator down the back of her thighs. âIf you just waited for me, I wouldnât have to do this. I wouldnât have to waste my time teaching you to be patient.â
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 âresearchâ seems a million miles away. A completely different person.Â
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 sheâs 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 canât help but groan out of frustration as you take your hand away. This time, he doesnât administer spanks to her ass, but right on her pussy. And she canât help the high-pitched yelp that leaps from her throat. San spanks her pussy until she shuts up. You donât realize youâve stopped breathing until the uncomfortable pressure in your throat forces you to inhale deeply.Â
The girl shudders after the last smack but doesnât move or say a word. Youâre both rooting for her and secretly hoping sheâll screw up again, just to see what he does. Also, you want to see if heâll actually fuck her.Â
Rather impatiently, you skip ahead a couple of minutes, needing to know if heâs 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 heâs 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. Sheâs moaning but itâs muffled and barely audible â you can imagine San gagged her in some way to keep her quiet after failing over and over again. Possibly with his tie. He doesnât 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.Â
If he denies her again in this state, youâll really be scared of him.Â
And that, he does.Â
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.Â
God damnâ 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 â and you â even more crazy.Â
âIâm doing you a favor,â he says flatly, not caring that sheâs essentially begging for mercy. âYou should be apologizing for making me waste my time to teach you basic manners.âÂ
Your mouth drops open at that. Heâs so mean, and yet if you were in her position â which you may be soon â youâre pretty sure youâd start apologizing right away. But she canât, 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.Â
He presses the vibrator harder against her, making her back arch. âTell me how sorry you are and maybe Iâll stop.âÂ
That grabs her attention. Muffled, garbled, and barely full sentences immediately tumble from her lips, on the off chance that heâll take pity on her and stop this edging torture. Her body shudders violently, cutting off her voice entirely. Â
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 doesnât 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 â which was, in fact, his tie.Â
âIâll give you one chance to tell me the truth,â he mutters in her ear, his other hand lingering dangerously close to her sore mound. âDid you just cum without permission? Yes or no.âÂ
A sob tears itself from her throat, knowing that sheâs been caught.Â
San pulls her hair again, causing her to yelp again. âAnswer me,â he hisses, âand donât you dare lie to me.âÂ
âY-yes, sir,â she whimpers, honest.Â
He doesnât say anything. He doesnât let her go. He just makes her stay with that feeling of guilt, the shame of being caught, and the foreboding knowledge that heâs 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 hasnât even touched her himself, really. Heâs still fully clothed, for fuckâs sake.Â
San sighs, thinking aloud, âWhat should I do with you, hm?âÂ
Busy choking and spluttering around the intrusion in her throat, she canât answer him at all. He probably doesnât want an answer, though. You have a feeling he knows exactly what heâs going to do with her.Â
Once again, youâre 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.Â
âFucking useless slutâŚâ he mutters to himself, just audible enough for her to hear. âYou wanna cum so bad? Fine.âÂ
A new toy is brought into frame, this one looking more daunting than the other two. You can tell itâs one of those two-for-one types, and your heart goes out to her. It slips inside of her easily, though itâs thicker than the previous dildo, all but confirming once again that she did cum without his permission. This time, thereâs no mystery or question about what heâs going to do to her. She knows. The knowing is almost worse than the not-knowing.Â
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.Â
For seven straight orgasms, he just watches her. He doesnât even touch himself even though you can tell heâs hard beneath those tailored pants. Her pleas fall on deaf ears, like heâs not even in the room. Youâve 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 everyoneâs rightâŚÂ
You tap the screen to see how much more of the video is left, and your eyebrows raise when you see thereâs 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.Â
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 sheâs had enough. For the last two orgasms he forces her through, he adds his thumb to her clit, circling it mercilessly.Â
âOne more, come on. This is what you wanted, isnât it? To cum?âÂ
Through her tears and scratchy voice, she warbles, âW-wantâ wanted you t-to fuck meâŚâÂ
He only laughs at her, and it sends such a blow to your psyche.Â
âDid you really think I would?âÂ
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.Â
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.Â
Thatâs a habit he has, youâve noticed. Or maybe just a signature thing. No matter what, when heâs done with his scene partner, he gives their pussy one final lick. As if heâs sealing the deal. Something theyâll feel long after the cameras stop rolling, along with the ache of their inner walls.Â
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.Â
You come back to the forms after a cold shower and a half an hour long pacing session in your living room.Â
With a somewhat clearer head, you decide to take it one question at a time.Â
At first glance, you canât help but feel like youâre filling out the forms youâd normally get in a doctorâs 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.Â
Thereâs a checklist of kinks, each one with a box to check if any are âhard noâsâ or âhard yessesâfor you. You gotta hand it to Afterdark, theyâre very thorough. At the very top, just above this checklist, you notice two more boxes simply labelled âRoughâ and âGentleâ.Â
Ah.Â
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 heâs 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. Theyâve tailored their own experience with him. That makes you feel a bit better actually, gives you more of a sense of control. Youâre not just walking into this with no say in what he does to you, nor will you be blindsided. Actually, youâll have a pretty good idea, and no worries that heâll do something youâre uncomfortable with.Â
The empty boxes still taunt you. Which version of him do you want?Â
After much consideration, you eventually let fate decide. You pick both options. Rough and gentle. Letâs see what he does with that.Â
Moving on, forcing yourself to breathe slower, you continue down the list of kinks. Again, itâs very thorough, even asking for locations that youâd be okay filming in. You check off âhard noâ on most, if not all of the âbodily fluidsâ section of the kink list. All except creampies, crying, and squirting. You wonder if heâll be able to make you do that. If so, you donât want to discourage him from it. Youâre 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 âyesâ to aftercare. Aftercare is a non-negotiable for you. One of your exes never did that for you, and itâs been a dealbreaker ever since you got out of that relationship. You dislike feeling used after-the-fact. Discarded. Itâs an ugly shock to your system, one that youâd like to avoid if possible.Â
Double checking everything on this page, you go to the third and final page.Â
In the top half, thereâs an interactive calendar so you can input dates and times when youâre free to do the shoot. Youâre pretty much free all the time, if youâre being honest. You just have a family wedding to go to in late August, two months from now. Though youâd 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 âavailableâ.Â
In the bottom half of the page, thereâs just one last question, accompanied by a text box: âTell us about yourself, and what we can do to better tailor this experience for you.âÂ
You have to admit, you werenât expecting this kind of question to come up. They want to know about you? Tailor this opportunity for you?Â
Huh.Â
Your mind goes blank at first. What could they possibly want to know? What are they actually looking for? Thereâs really no telling.Â
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 âN/Aâ. But your inner professional tells you to answer it. You search yourself, wondering if thereâs anything that would make you feel a little more comfortable while there. You assume theyâll provide a robe for you, or something to cover you up when youâre not filming, but youâve also heard how âfucking coldâ porn sets are kept. Not exactly wanting to show up with a blanket from home, you decide thatâll be your one request.Â
âIf itâs not too much to ask, Iâd like a blanket while on set. Thank you! :)âÂ
You double â triple â check each form page, making sure you didnât accidentally check something off or type in your information wrong. After you confirm that everything is accurate and spelled correctly, you click on the âsubmitâ button. A âthank youâ screen pops up, and you quickly exit the tab, not wanting to think about it anymore. Itâs out of your hands now.Â
But speaking of the hands itâs now in, you have to set up a meeting time with this Kim Hongjoong guy. Â
Right. Okay, onto the next step.Â
In a new email, you type out all the dates and times youâre free â you may have made yourself sound busier than you actually are â and send it off to him. Glad to have everything done, you flop back against your pillows and groan. You replay all the images youâve seen. All the things heâs done to multiple women.Â
Itâs the next day that ends up being the meeting day.Â
You opt for a virtual meeting, reasoning that itâll 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.Â
You do your makeup and hair, wanting to look presentable. Itâs the shirt that gives you a headache. Youâre 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 itâs summer and hot in your apartment in the afternoons. Youâve been meaning to figure out how the air conditioning works. Itâs hi-tech in a way that truly baffles you. Youâll get Yeosang to figure it out the next time he comes over.Â
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.Â
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 havenât 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.Â
Thereâs 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 âend callâ at a momentâs notice. When his camera finally loads, you breathe a little easier. Heâs in an office based on context clues of what you can see around him, and heâs 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.Â
âMiss Y/N! Itâs so nice to talk with you today, how are you?âÂ
âIâm doing well, thank you. Are you the one Iâve been emailing?â You ask when he doesnât introduce himself by name. You just want to clarify.Â
He laughs to break any awkward tension, âYes, thatâs me. My apologies, Iâm Sanâs agent, Kim Hongjoong.â
âOkay, good.â 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. Heâs 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.Â
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. Itâs 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, thatâs for sure.Â
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 itâs time to actually start talking about the collab. You fix your earring for no real reason, just to give yourself something to do. Â
âSo, Iâve received the forms you completed â thank you for doing that, by the way â and I was wondering if you have any questions for me about them?âÂ
You pause before you answer. Nowâs the time to ask, and with the right person, too. Humming to fill the silence, you think about a good question to ask first.Â
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 doesnât 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.Â
âI guess Iâve been wondering about⌠like⌠if I check off certain boxes will we do all of that? OrâŚ?âÂ
Very eloquent.Â
Luckily, he doesnât seem to think anything of it. âOh, 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. Itâs just to see what youâre comfortable with and to see which direction you want this collab to go.âÂ
That makes sense. And now that you think about it, what if someone puts a âhard yesâ next to something that San would check off as a âhard noâ, obviously they wouldnât do it. Itâs a mutual agreement. They find the things that match between you two and take it from there.Â
âActually,â Hongjoong says with a small grin, still scrolling through the forms on his computer. âYou two are pretty similar. It wasnât hard to match up.âÂ
You hear it but your brain doesnât process what it means yet.Â
âOh, really?â You say, not knowing how else to respond.Â
Hongjoong just hums, nodding once. He pushes his glasses up again before turning back to you.Â
âRegardless 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 donât show up at all, we canât really do anything to pay you. We have this in place because we donât want you to feel trapped once the scene starts. Does that make sense?âÂ
You nod quickly, âYes, it does.âÂ
âPerfect,â he says. âSo, with your schedule that you sent me, if youâre okay with it, we can set the date relatively soon. Is this coming Friday, at six oâclock alright?âÂ
Friday. As in⌠Friday, two days from now, Friday? Your mouth dries instantly. Two days from now. Is he not busy? You assumed this wouldnât 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.Â
And yet you hear yourself say, âFridayâs good for me!âÂ
Well, now it has to be whether youâre ready or not. Your hands itch for your phone, needing to text Yeosang immediately, even though you know heâll 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.Â
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 itâs done.Â
âOkay, perfect. Iâve got you booked for six oâclock this Friday. If you could email me where youâd like our driver to pick you up, thatâd be great. Otherwise, do you have any other questions, comments, or concerns for me?âÂ
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.Â
Fuck, okay. Sure, why not?Â
âOh, umââ you suddenly remember one thing he hasnât mentioned at all. âIs there a script? Like, do I need to know any lines beforeâŚ?âÂ
Hongjoong answers right away, âAh, this shoot will be unscripted. Itâll feel more natural that way.âÂ
More natural. Your heart feels like a brick in your chest. To be honest though, youâre 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. Thatâs the experience youâll be getting.Â
âOkay, cool,â you reply, desperately needing another drink of water for your dry mouth. âThank you.âÂ
Hongjoong smiles politely. âNo problem. Alright, well if everything sounds good, weâll see you on Friday! Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.â
We.Â
Again, heâs probably just talking about the company, but Yeosangâs words from yesterday are stuck in your head. Your secret delusions and Yeosangâs smart mouth are never a good mix.Â
âSee you Friday! Thank you.â You reply politely, the very picture of calmness and professionalism. Â
And once the call disconnects, youâre slamming your laptop shut and calling Yeosang to tell him everything.  Â
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, itâs definitely time for him to be awake now.Â
As expected, once you rattle off every detail of the call you were just on, Yeosang laughs his ass off.Â
âOh man,â he says with an audible sigh, âyouâre fucked.â     Â
Part of you wishes that the driver will somehow get hopelessly lost on the way to the set.Â
Youâre sure heâs been there multiple times before, but you pray for a random dose of amnesia anyway. Itâs not that youâre second-guessing the decision â not at all â you just werenât expecting the day to come so soon. Itâs 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. Itâs 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.Â
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 mustâve 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 heâll see you later to drive you home.
Then, youâre 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 â8â button once in the elevator car.Â
As soon as the doors shut, the silence and gravity of what youâre 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, Yeosangâs custom text ringtone startles you. Glad to distract yourself, you immediately read the text. Â
[yeoyeođť]: donât let him intimidate you, youâre the one he wanted for thisÂ
[yeoyeođť]: remember heâs literally just some guy and youâll be fineÂ
[yeoyeođť]: youâre gonna be great :) Â Â Â
You canât help but smile, and you roll your shoulders back to stand taller. Heâs 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.Â
When the elevator doors open on the eighth floor, someone is already waiting for you on the other side.Â
Hongjoong.Â
You donât realize until this moment how relieved you are to see a somewhat familiar face.Â
âMiss Y/N,â he greets, extending his hand out for you to shake, âitâs so nice to meet you in person.âÂ
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.Â
âOh, umâŚno, not at the moment, thank you.âÂ
âOf course,â he nods once. âIf you do need something at any time, please let one of us know.âÂ
You assume that âone of usâ probably means the team of people youâre about to meet and be fucked in front of. Forcing another deep breath, you manage another easy smile and thank him again.Â
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.Â
Hongjoong leads you down a long hallway, deeper into the Afterdark floorplan. Youâre 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.Â
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.Â
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 canât hear.Â
âNo, thatâs alright,â he says quietly, âI think heâs good without her right now, but double check for me, please.âÂ
You keep your eyes on the floor, pretending that you didnât hear anything, but your mind races. Who is âsheâ, 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.Â
While the two of you walk, youâre rather relieved that no one is staring at you as you go by. Youâre just another actress to them, and right now, thatâs okay with you. And luckily, the path Hongjoong is taking you on is relatively close to the perimeter of the set, so youâre 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 itâs 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. Thereâs 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 youâre left alone.Â
âThis is all yours for the day,â Hongjoong says, âsomeone will come around in a minute to help with hair and makeup, and then weâll start.â
You nod, swallowing down as much of your anxiety as possible.Â
âWill you, umââ you ask before you can stop yourself. Hongjoong pauses before he heads out, waiting expectantly for you to finish your question. âAre you gonna be on set the whole time?âÂ
His expression changes into something akin to surprise. Obviously, he wasnât expecting you to ask anything about himself. He doesnât answer straight away, taking a moment to try and understand why youâre asking that. You can almost see the professional within him piecing together a corporate response in real time.
âWe 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?âÂ
You wave your hand, trying to brush everything off. âNo, I was just wondering. Nevermind. Thank you!âÂ
Hongjoong looks like heâs about to say something, but ultimately leaves you alone, gently closing the door behind him.Â
As soon as it clicks shut, youâre moving to sit on the couch, ready to call Yeosang, but you stop yourself at the last minute. Youâre acting crazy, you do realize that. And you have a sneaking suspicion heâll tell you the exact same thing.Â
Instead, to satiate your need to call him, you reread his last three texts of encouragement.Â
Lock in. Remember who the hell you are. Now.Â
You put on some ego-boosting music so youâre 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.Â
No panties anywhere in sight. No bra, either. Total and easy access.Â
Your lower stomach starts to heat up, already envisioning how San might go about undressing you. From what youâve seen, rarely does he let girls undress themselves. No, he wants to be the one to do it. Like heâs unwrapping a present, just for him. Â
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. Youâre almost positive that if you look in the vanity drawer, youâll find snacks as well. Maybe you can get used to this. But youâll wait to give your final verdict after the job you came here to do is done. Itâs best to wait.Â
Youâre only waiting for a minute or two before thereâs 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 â Youngmi, you think is the makeup artist, and Rina, the hair stylist â 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 itâs all in good fun.Â
By the time theyâre done, you no longer feel like the scared outsider that doesnât look the part. They made you even more beautiful.Â
There she is, you think as you admire yourself in the mirror.Â
You sigh in relief, feeling much more confident than before. And not only that, you feel ready. Itâs 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 â or, in your skirt. You had kicked your shoes off next to the couch.Â
You make sure to thank Youngmi and Rina before they bring you out, not knowing if youâll have a chance once youâre 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 youâll be⌠âperformingâ.Â
As youâre walking and looking around, you start to wonder if San makes it a point to surround himself with equally beautiful people. Or maybe itâs a company requirement.Â
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 isnât anywhere to be found at the moment. Heâs probably with his talent right now.Â
When youâre introduced to the director, you almost say something about it. Everyone in this room is attractive. Conventionally, unconventionally, and everything in between.Â
âHello Ms. Y/L/N, Iâm Choi Jongho, Iâll be directing you two today.â He introduces himself, bowing politely and shaking your hand.Â
You bow your head and reply, âHi, itâs nice to meet you.âÂ
He offers you a chair to sit in while everyone waits for San to come out, and you take it gratefully. You donât know how long heâll 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 youâre supposed to give it to someone or take it with you onto the set.Â
âWould you like anything to drink, Ms. Y/L/N?â The director asks, noticing that you donât have anything with you ready for any breaks.Â
Director Choi only refers to you as âMs. Y/L/N.â Very professional, cordial even. Makes you feel like more than an object his star is about to fuck on screen. Youâre being treated with real respect, which is a pleasant surprise in comparison to what you had expected from the porn industry.Â
You look around yourself, only just now realizing you didnât take one of those mini water bottles from your dressing room like you originally planned.Â
âA water, pleaseââ you start to say. As soon as the last syllable of âwaterâ is spoken, an assistant hands you one. You didnât even see him standing next to you, much less holding a bottle. Then again, you arenât really paying attention to whether or not people are carrying water bottles or not right now. Damn. Â Â
You try to warm up your arms by rubbing them, now that youâre 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 didnât even have to say anything.Â
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. Youâre so used to doing everything yourself, this type of treatment makes you feel⌠stuck up â and every fiber of your being screams at you to make sure none of the staff think that of you.Â
âSan will be out in just a moment,â 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. Itâs 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.Â
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.Â
The air shifts just moments later.
Itâs 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 whatâs going on. Though, in your heart you know exactly what it is without needing to look â itâs the arrival of the main attraction.Â
From where you are, leaned back in your chair, you canât see him too well. Heâs 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.Â
Hongjoong stays at the back of it all, looking down at his phone as he walks.Â
The team finally disperses one by one, revealing more of Choi San to your eyes.Â
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. Itâs even more pronounced in real life. Youâre not entirely sure how to greet him, or what heâs used to. But you remember Yeosangâs encouragement again: Heâs just a guy. Donât let him intimidate you. Youâre gonna be great.Â
Heâs just a guy. Youâve dealt with those before. Itâs 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.Â
You stand up, smoothing down your skirt and standing still, hands clasped in front of you.Â
âHey Jongho, sorry weâre late,â Hongjoong calls over, pocketing his phone. He side-eyes San, who bows his head in apology as he walks. Â
The director waves him off, clearly used to his tardiness and the apologies that follow. âItâs alright,â he says, âyouâre actually earlier than we thought youâd be.â  Â
âWe need to go over the rules with her,â San says once heâs 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 donât 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.Â
Director Choi nods and grabs a clipboard from his own directorâs chair. You nervously roll your ankle, hearing it crack quietly in the interim. Â
âRight, 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,â At this, Director Choi looks up at you. âThird rule is health and safety, but Hongjoong said you covered that with him, and when you sent in the form,â Again, his eyes flick up from the clipboard to glance at you. âFourth is to be respectful at all times â thereâs no room for ego here. And lastly, donât look at the camera unless told to, otherwise keep the illusion.âÂ
You go over each rule in your head before you forget. Consent, confidentiality, feel safe, be respectful, and donât 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.Â
âFollow these, and weâll have a great shoot day. We should be ready to go in just a few minutes.â 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.Â
Youâre 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. Â
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. Donât be intimidated. At the end of the day, youâre both here to do the same job, and both of you are successful in your own rights. Heâs just a man, you remind yourself again.Â
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. Itâs much easier to be confident and independent on your own turf, but here on his, itâs more of a challenge. Still, you stand your ground. You have to if heâs going to keep sizing you up. He has been since he walked out here. Â
âYou didnât cum,â he says matter-of-factly.Â
âŚÂ
Pardon? Did you hear him right? What an odd opening line to say to someone youâre meeting for the first time.Â
Your lips part and eyebrows furrow, rather startled. âIâm sorry?âÂ
Thereâs no way you heard him correctly. Â
âYour last liveshow,â he shrugs. âAm I right?âÂ
Well⌠yes, butâ how didâ?Â
Is this how he starts all of his conversations? With a personal accusation?Â
âThatâs alright. We all do it sometimes,â he shrugs again. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear and lowers his voice. âYouâre not gonna fake it with me, though,â he says, and the terrifying thing is that he sounds genuine. Itâs not unfounded cockiness or meaningless bravado. He means what he says in all seriousness. He says it like you shouldnât worry about it. Like itâs a promise.Â
And you exhibit monumental self-control to not clench your thighs together at this moment.Â
Your mind races at a million miles a minute. That, you didnât expect. Isnât that all that porn is? Fake, overblown orgasms for the girls and endless, guaranteed pleasure regardless for the men? Youâre starting to think that this may not be the case with him. You think about the videos you watched as part of your âresearchâ, 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 theyâve cum with their scene partner. But with him, now you know: all of the girls werenât 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 heâll 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 heâs relentless, and he seems to like getting up in peopleâs space. A mischievous glint in his eye tells you that heâs enjoying this particular encounter especially. Heâs definitely the type of guy that finds it fun to make girls flustered or nervous.Â
You swallow hard.Â
âYou sound rather confident,â you note, still trying your best to hold eye contact with him. To not back down or seem weak. Youâre sure itâs not working. You just refuse to melt all over him, or suck up to him. Especially not when heâs the one who asked you here. Â
Surprisingly, he smirks. âShouldnât I be? Iâve done my research, I know you probably have done yours as well.âÂ
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.Â
âDoes that make you nervous, kitten?â He whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side like heâs about to kiss you. He could if he just leaned forward a couple more inches.Â
A little, you admit to yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest like itâs 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. Youâre 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.Â
âNo,â you lie, âIâm fine.â Arms crossed. Eyes up.Â
San laughs lightly, and his smile instantly becomes the most attractive thing about him so far, even if itâs at your own expense.Â
âIf you say so,â he shrugs again.Â
He doesnât 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.Â
âSo, youâre a fan of mine?âÂ
At that, he pauses. But, he doesnât shy away from it.Â
âYeah,â he says, owning up to it immediately. He straightens back up as you nod, taking in the information. âHave been for a while now. I saw that other collab you did with that guy, it was really fuckinâ hot.âÂ
You make a mental note to let Yeosang know he was right about that, as well. To be honest, you werenât expecting the compliment. Â
âIâmâ glad you liked it,â you say, clearing your throat in the middle of the sentence. Youâre doing pretty well on the outside despite your nervousness beginning to rise again on the inside. San studies you once more, like heâs 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.Â
âMm⌠youâre even prettier in real life,â he says, so casually it almost doesnât register.Â
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.Â
The final few minutes begin to tick down. Â
You donât 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.Â
âAny final advice or warnings for me before we start?â You ask, keeping your voice casual and light. Itâs a subtle dig to him, but you mean no malice behind the words. Fortunately, he picks up on it.Â
âOh, tons,â he grins, keeping pace with you onto the set. Itâs almost easy to forget the cameras. Â
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, youâre pretty impressed. Itâs a pretty realistic bedroom setting, complete with shelves decorated with trinkets and records, but vague enough to have no specific personality. Nobodyâs 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.Â
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.Â
San sits on the edge of the bed. âYou get used to it,â he says, nodding towards the lights.Â
You nod as well, placing a hand above your heart, willing it to stop racing.Â
Noticing this, San takes your hand and guides you to sit down next to him. You do feel a bit better now that youâre 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 heâs facing you.Â
âNervous?â He asks rhetorically, knowing full well that you are. Heâs still holding your hand, playing with each of your fingers one by one.Â
âObvious?â You reply, managing to laugh at yourself, despite your nerves.Â
San grins, his eyes turning into crescents, and that dimple in his cheek reappearing. âOnly a little bit. But, Iâve seen worse.âÂ
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. Thatâs the version of you he invited.Â
Whereâs Britney when you need her? Â
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 youâve seen and the information youâve gathered, your hairâs gonna be plenty messed up anyway.Â
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.Â
But less distractions means you notice the man right next to you even more.Â
You can feel Sanâs eyes on you.Â
Itâs 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. Youâd 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. Heâs not looking at anyone else but you. Not just looking, but admiring.Â
His gaze drifts down, greedily drinking in the sight of your collarbone and legs â the only skin youâre revealing at the moment. If the crew would just hurry up, heâll be able to see more.Â
Fortunately, heâs never been one to wait to get what he wants. Especially not in this industry. And right now, he wants you.Â
âI meant it, by the way,â he says quietly, âyouâre beautiful.âÂ
Without any water to choke on, or an interruption from the director, you simply look up at him, finally meeting his eyes. Thereâs 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.Â
âThank you⌠youâre quite beautiful yourself.â You compliment him back, shifting how youâre sitting to face him as well.Â
By now, your knee is touching his. Even this small amount of contact between you makes your shoulders tense again. Youâre not sure why, but you just want to melt into him already. Perhaps due to the undeniable attraction you feel towards him.Â
Maybe itâs the insane sexual tension between you both, that very well could be the root cause as well.Â
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 âcutâ, youâre more than willing to match that energy.
His hand moves from yours to rest on your thigh, slowly, like heâs silently asking for permission to continue. When you donât 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. Itâs already dizzying enough to have him in such close proximity, and now adding in the electricity of his touch, itâs a whole other level. And this, you assume, is just the warmup. Getting you used to the feeling of his hands on you. Itâs nice that it doesnât feel wrong.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âDonât look at the camera, kitten,â San purrs, âI believe that was rule number five.âÂ
âOh, shut up,â you mumble without any real bite to your words.Â
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.Â
San never looks anywhere else, entirely focused on you. It doesn't matter to him that thereâs about twenty people still in the same room, all witnessing this âwarm-upâ unfold. It barely fazes him. Heâs experienced in this setting, way more used to it than you are. You just have to roll with it.Â
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.Â
âWhatâs got you this wet already, kitten?âÂ
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 canât see very well because of the lights and the various equipment in the way, but several of the crew and team are.Â
San smirks, pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your clit. âYou like the attention?â He asks, following your gaze. âItâs different from your little camshow isnât it? Now the audience is only a few feet awayâŚâÂ
His fingers begin to move in small circles, occasionally dipping further down to collect your wetness before bringing it back up to your clit.Â
âSanââ you breathe, catching his wrist in a semi-firm grip. Not to move it away, but just to hold onto something. Jesus, the shoot hasnât even officially started yet, but youâre about to beg them to hurry up so it can.Â
San just moves closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in your cute expression. His voice is quieter, so only you can hear him. âAlready thought about all the ways Iâm gonna make this pretty cunt cum for me. âM gonna make you feel so good.âÂ
Another promise.Â
A shiver runs down your spine, and thatâs the moment the crew decides that theyâre ready to shoot.Â
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. Â
Director Choi walks up to you both for final notes. âAlright, no script so weâre 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?â He looks over to you.Â
You nod quickly, unable to meet his eye right now. The back of your hand lifts to your cheek to check how hot itâs gotten â as if you need additional confirmation. You hope you didnât smudge your makeup or wipe some of it off by accident, but you imagine that if it shows up on camera, theyâll stop to fix it.Â
âOkay, then weâre ready to go.âÂ
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 isnât much different to a camshow, really.Â
And arenât you here for your fans anyway? Sure, you also wanted the opportunity and experience, but itâs also for your fans. The ones who supported you enough to even get noticed by Afterdark and San in the first place. You imagine theyâll make up at least half of the view count whenever this video drops. Youâre performing for them. Not for the strangers in the room.Â
Once that clicks for you, all your anxiety melts away, freeing you to finally just⌠enjoy this. Why not? You deserve it.Â
Plus, youâre quite eager to pick up right where you and San left off just moments ago â and it seems that San is too.Â
His gaze becomes heavier, darker as he shifts into his on-screen persona.Â
âCâmere, kitten, want you on my lap to start.â He says, moving back on the bed a little more and gently pulling you towards him.Â
You straddle his legs, slow to sit down fully. Now slightly above and closer than before, you canât 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 heâs in how wet you are. Equally though, you can feel how hard heâs getting.Â
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.Â
âItâs just you and me,â he says quietly, breath fanning across your cheek.Â
You nod, eyes fluttering closed again as you grind into him once more. âOkayâŚâÂ
Through your pleasurable hazy fog, you faintly hear someone yell, âAction!â.Â
And San stops holding back.Â
The hand on your hip pushes you back and pulls you in, encouraging you to keep grinding on him â 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.Â
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.Â
San tilts your chin up to kiss your neck, hiding his face from the camera. âNever answered my question,â he whispers, barely audible so his voice doesnât get picked up by any of the overhead microphones.Â
You disguise your response as a moan, âHm?âÂ
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.Â
Ah.Â
His question from mere minutes ago: Whatâs got you this wet already?Â
âSo wet for me,â he murmurs, a bit louder. Itâs alright if the microphones pick that up. âWonder whyâŚâÂ
Itâs the knowing smirk that does it. You move to undress him first, intriguing him. He didnât 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.Â
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 youâre next.Â
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 canât blame your reaction entirely on the temperature.Â
San must notice how your shoulders hunch a little and how you press further into him, because he is quick to warm you up.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
Now fully exposed, San pauses.Â
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 heâs 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.Â
He catches both of your wrists, bringing your hands together to kiss them both before guiding them down above your head.Â
âKeep them here,â he murmurs, kissing you once more.Â
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 doesnât 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.Â
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 heâs about to do are clear, but heâs a professional at driving his partners crazy. The kisses turn to licks, right next to your labia. So tantalizingly close.Â
If your eyes were open, youâd see that heâs been watching you the entire time, trying to pace himself as best he can. Youâre actually lucky thereâs a job to do here because if it was just the two of you alone, he doesnât think heâd be holding himself back from just taking what he wants.Â
To him, this is all just a chance for him to prove himself to you. To him, youâre the star. And heâs going to make sure you leave this set more than satisfied. Wanting for nothing.Â
But heâs not going to start until you beg him to.Â
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.Â
âThought I told you to keep your hands up there, kitten,â he reminds you, with a slight warning edge to his voice.Â
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.Â
âBe a good girl and keep them above your head,â he repeats his previous order.Â
You nod quickly, âIâm sorryââ 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.Â
When he repeats the action, the tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, making you see stars already.Â
âOh my godâŚâ you moan, eyes fluttering shut again.Â
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 âFantasyâ video keeps you frozen.Â
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 heâs moaning while he eats you out, like the taste of you is getting him off. You hope he lets you return the favor.Â
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 canât help the high-pitched sound that escapes your mouth. He does it again, and again, getting you louder each time.Â
âLook at me, baby,â he breathes, his nose brushing up against your sensitive clit as he speaks.Â
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, itâs clear that youâre close. Now youâll get to see what he has planned for you. The two boxes you checked off, âRoughâ, and âGentleâ come back to haunt you.Â
A moan cuts you off as you try to warn him that youâre close, but he can tell without needing to hear you say it. Heâs 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.Â
His voice is rough and gravelly against your pussy, âCum for me, baby. Wanna taste it.âÂ
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. Heâs 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 youâre okay to continue.Â
You answer that check by sitting up and pulling him towards you, kissing him even more hungrily than before. He hasnât even wiped his mouth yet, but you donât 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 donât know if youâre 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.Â
For now, you just roll your hips up into his, moaning into his mouth.Â
âWant itâŚwant you,â you mumble, parting from his lips for just a second to tell him that.Â
San hums, lazily kissing your jaw. âWhat do you want, kitten? Be specific.âÂ
You groan inwardly, but you know he has to prolong this a little. Damn⌠for a while, you forgot about the reason youâre 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 heâs quick to act.Â
âTell me,â 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.Â
You take a deep breath before you voice what you want, âWanna suck your cock⌠please, sir.âÂ
Itâs the âsirâ that nearly kills him. You really have done your research, havenât you? You know thatâs 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.Â
And who is he to deny you? Especially when you ask so nicely. Plus, heâs been wanting to feel your mouth wrap around his cock since he watched your livestream.Â
âYeah?â He asks, biting the space where your neck meets your shoulder and pressing up against you again.Â
You give him your best doe-eyed look, really tapping into your innocent act. âYes, sir.âÂ
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. Itâs a little hard to get the zipper down, but you manage it, successfully removing his pants. Youâre 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. Itâs 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 cameraâs.Â
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.Â
Somehow, itâs bigger than it looks on camera.Â
You have no idea how thatâs possible â you know about the fish eye lenses and tricks the porn industry will use to make someoneâs dick look bigger than it is, but right now, youâre presented with the exact opposite. Itâs larger in real life. This, you were not expecting, but it is such a pleasant and welcome surprise. And of course, itâs just as pretty as the rest of him. Â
Both of these things combined only make you want to put your mouth on it even more.Â
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.Â
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 youâre about to put him in your mouth, only to move away, kissing his hipbone next and stroking him with your hand.Â
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.Â
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 thatâs 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.Â
If you were annoyed with his apparent perfection before, youâre pissed now. How does he also taste good too?Â
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.Â
âFuck, babyâŚso good,â He groans, starting to struggle to keep his eyes open.Â
The visual of you choking on his cock is better than he couldâve ever imagined it to be. You donât 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 youâre gagging and your eyes are watering, you donât 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.Â
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. Itâs 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. Heâs 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.Â
Whatever he wants.Â
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 heâll cum in your mouth. A rare hope, as youâve never quite enjoyed the taste of it before, but with his track record so far, youâre willing to bet youâll 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.Â
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 youâre able to stop yourself before you can even move an inch. Itâs probably one of the crew leaving the set, you figure. But it sounds close by.Â
As if to prove you right, soon thereâs 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 doesnât 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. Youâll get a damn brace if you need to.Â
âGodââ he grunts, looking down at your hand.Â
âWant you to cum too,â you say, looking up at him, almost pleading.Â
Sanâs eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, a full body shudder wracking through him before he is able to compose himself again.Â
âAnd where do you want me to cum, kitten?â He asks, his volume raising slightly, caressing your cheek.Â
âIn my mouth, sir.â You reply, also loud enough for the microphones to pick up.Â
He all but shoves you down. You barely have time to make sure your teeth arenât 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. Youâre able to keep up easily, sucking harder whenever youâre closer to the head of it, and using your tongue as much as you can.Â
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. Heâd be so mean to you if youâd let him. He wouldnât have kept himself down your throat for ten measly seconds, it wouldâve been until you tried to push yourself off, desperate to breathe again. That wouldâve been heavenly, to feel your throat constrict around his cock, in search of air. But not for the first scene together.Â
If thereâs a next time, maybe thatâs when heâll let go just a little more. Show that side of him and see how you cope with it. For now though, heâs content to just enjoy the sight of you taking him in your mouth, wanting to make him cum. And youâre damn near close to achieving that.Â
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.Â
âFuck⌠ah, fuck, Iâm gonna cum⌠mmfââ San moans, head tilting back against the chair.Â
You donât change anything about what youâre doing, just continuing until finally, he releases into your mouth. Just like you wanted him to. And itâs 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 wonât until you suck him dry, until he pushes you off from overstimulation. Maybe subconsciously, itâs because you know he loves to overstimulate his scene partners â 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.Â
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.Â
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 canât help but be a little surprised. Youâve never gotten wet from sucking dick before. If he finds out, itâll go right to his ego, no doubt.Â
But before he can, thereâs 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 whatâs happening, looking back up at San for help.Â
âWeâre breaking for a second,â he explains, still out of breath.Â
Ah.Â
âAre you alright?â You ask him, without thinking. Youâre not even sure why you asked that.Â
San blinks, processing your question as well before nodding once, âYeah⌠yeah, Iâm good.âÂ
Thereâs a fleeting moment between you that you canât describe. Something deeper than the scene now that youâre out of it. Itâs the way heâs looking at you, void of any facade or persona meant for the cameras. Almost like heâs curious about something.Â
No one ever really asks him if heâs alright.Â
Just as quickly as the moment appears, itâs 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. Â
âYou okay?â San asks as well, eyebrows furrowing in what appears to be genuine concern.Â
ââM okay⌠honest.â You nod as you speak to emphasize that youâre 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.Â
Opening your eyes again, you accidentally make eye contact directly to his cock, still right in front of your face. Itâs laying against his stomach, still slightly twitching, but⌠not softening. At least not as much as youâd expect it to. Surely, he canât still be hard after coming. However, at this point, you wouldnât 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.Â
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 â 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 â the one that had handed you the blanket earlier â 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.Â
Director Choi calls over Youngmi and Rina, and theyâre 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.Â
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 havenât 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. Sheâs 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. Itâs obvious what sheâs there for. You wonder if sheâs been watching the whole time as well.Â
But San is quick to rid you of any worries.Â
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 wonât 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. Â
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 wonât have it. His other hand cups your cheek, making sure you donât try to look anywhere but at him right now.Â
ââM still hard for you, kitten,â he says quietly, just for you. He moves closer, his thumb running over your bottom lip. âMade me feel so fucking good⌠doing so wellâŚâÂ
You canât help but blush at his praise. Heâs so attentive, itâs a little shocking. You expected him to be, due to the videos you watched, but off-camera as well?Â
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.Â
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.Â
âSorry, sir,â you whisper, grinning mischievously now that youâre the one teasing him. Â
San laughs once, breathy and short.Â
âYou really have done your research on me, huh?â 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.Â
You shrug, playing it cool. âWanted to see what I was getting myself into,â the corners of your mouth twitch as you slowly stroke his cock, watching for his reactions.Â
âAndââ he clears his throat before continuing, âwhat do you think so far?âÂ
Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and youâre taken aback again by his genuineness. Heâs 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. Â
âWell⌠Iâm still wet for you,â you admit, casting your eyes down towards your lap. âBut I think Iâll give you a final verdict later.â Â
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.    Â
âDeal,â he whispers, slowly leaning in to kiss you.Â
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.Â
As soon as his robe comes off, he tosses it in the cameraâs 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.Â
You shiver, finally underneath him once more. The promise of whatâs 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.Â
Well, he wonât make you wait any longer.Â
And just in time too, because someone over on the left shouts, âAction!â. You feel kind of bad for stressing out the crew this much, but you canât dwell on those guilty feelings when San is rubbing your clit again.
âFuck⌠pleaseâŚâ you whimper, hips grinding up in search of something else. Â
San moans, working himself up as he feels your pussy slicking all over his knee. Â
âAre they gonna stop us again?â You ask, whispering in his ear.Â
âThey better fucking not,â San breathes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up, spreading your legs further apart so he can kneel between them.Â
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 heâll stretch you out, and knowing that you probably wonât last too long with his size. Hopefully, you wonât cum as soon as he bottoms out.Â
San presses the tip to your hole, and you hold your breath. Itâs so big, but youâre ready. Youâre 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.Â
And much to your despair, he doesnât 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 canât help but whine pathetically.Â
San hums, mocking you. âHm? Whatâs wrong, kitten?âÂ
âPlease fuck me already,â you exhale, whimpering at yet another tap of his cock against your clit.Â
âLouder,â he instructs, not just to make you beg for it again, but also so the microphones pick it up. Youâd forgotten all about them again, to be honest. âAsk me properly.âÂ
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 itâs there. But itâs 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.Â
âPlease, sir, please fuck me. Want it so baââÂ
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. Heâs just barely halfway in, and your brain already feels like mush.Â
Maybe itâs 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 canât look towards him, even by accident.
San swears under his breath, watching his cock disappearing into you as well.Â
âSo fucking tight⌠god, babyâŚâ he grunts, adjusting his knees slightly closer to your ass so he can feed you more of his length.Â
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.Â
Then he shoves the rest of his cock inside.Â
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 itâs going to feel so overwhelmingly good.Â
The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Youâre close to coming already.Â
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. Thereâs no hiding it anymore.Â
Amused, San leans down, pushing your legs back even more, deepening the stretch. He groans as your pussy contracts around him tight, wanting more.Â
âWhat, kitten? Already?â 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.Â
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.Â
âMm, thatâs it,â he says, twisting his wrist so he can rub your clit with two fingers instead. âLet me feel it.âÂ
Youâre 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.Â
Unlike last time, he gives you no recovery period. The second he sees your eyes refocus, heâs fucking into you again. Like he never stopped. Your hands grip his shoulders, knowing youâre 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.Â
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, youâre not entirely sure yourself.Â
Thereâs no energy behind your actions, but San still subtly checks in. âFeel good, kitten?âÂ
You choke on another moan, his cock getting dangerously close to hitting your g-spot. âMm- Iâmâ good, feels s-so good.âÂ
âYeah? You liked coming on my cock?âÂ
âYesâŚâÂ
âYes, what?â San punctuates his question by ramming into you hard, unexpectedly.Â
Youâre quick to correct yourself, âY-yes, sir!â
âThere you go,â he brushes some hair away from your face, âmy good girl.âÂ
Your body melts at the praise, replaying it over and over again as the feeling builds up higher and higher. You donât 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 youâve hurt him unknowingly.Â
But he puts them right back where they were.Â
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. Itâs getting to be more of a challenge to breathe normally like this.
Especially as your third orgasm begins to crest.Â
ââM comingââ you warn him, but he knows already. He can feel it.Â
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 donât disappoint him the third time either.Â
Youâre 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 youâre desperate to chase it. Luckily, San knows exactly what you need.Â
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.Â
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 youâve never felt before. You grab his wrist, looking up at him with slight fear in your eyes, but he doesnât seem concerned. Heâs determined, if anything.Â
âGood girl,â he purrs, so affectionately it makes your brain melt.Â
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.Â
âGonna make a mess for me, kitten? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock again?âÂ
You donât 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. Itâs a feeling of release unlike any other that youâve felt before, much harder than any orgasm youâve 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 âroughâ youâll be getting from him: overstimulation. Making you cum until you beg him to stop.Â
San growls at the sight. It burns into his brain, and he can already say for certain that heâll be jerking off to the memory of this later tonight and for days to come.Â
Just to prolong it, he taps his heavy cock against your pussy and clit again, enjoying how you try to squirm away from it.Â
Youâre so wet, itâs 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.Â
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. Â
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.Â
Thankfully, sensing your dilemma â and hearing you whine for it â he doesnât 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 itâs so the camera can see your fucked out, dazed expression.Â
His cock slips back inside of you easily, without any resistance, and the two of you groan in unison. In both relief and pleasure. Â
That familiar, faint voice comes back. Clearer this time, and closer as well. âSan⌠San! Weâre taking another break now.âÂ
San kisses your shoulder blade, barely paying attention. âOkay, have fun,â he brushes the voice off, impatiently.Â
Youâd laugh if you had any coherent thoughts or spare energy left. No, youâre a bit preoccupied at the moment, your body trembling around his cock, and so happy that heâs pushed back into you. Truthfully, you donât even care if youâre stressing out the crew anymore. All of your thoughts are about San.Â
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. Â
âI know, kitten, itâs okay. Just relax.â
Easier said than done.Â
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 youâre 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. Â
Sanâs 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 youâre making, and you know youâll 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.Â
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 â twice in a row without a break â 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.Â
Your back arches even more, hips grinding back against his to get more of him somehow.Â
Such a little natural.    Â
âMmm, there you go. Thatâs it. Keep fucking yourself on my cock, pretty girl.âÂ
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.Â
âFuck,â you whimper, a couple of stray tears threatening to fall. âYouâre s-so fucking deep.âÂ
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 doesnât even give you any time to process the stinging pain heâs left behind before thereâs a new one on the back of your head.Â
Slightly dizzy, it takes you a second to realize youâre 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 canât 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. Youâre a fighter, he can tell.Â
âDoing so well,â he whispers in your ear, âsuch a good girl for me, baby. Knew you would be. Knew Iâd get this pussy to fall apart on my dick. Thought about it so fucking muchâŚâ
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.Â
All you hear is his praise. Youâre doing well. Good enough for him, like you were so stressed about being. Nothing else matters to you anymore, now that youâve earned his approval. A proud smile creeps across your face, and he grins at the faraway look in your half-lidded eyes. Youâre so far gone. Completely pleasure-drunk. Â
The hand in your hair tightens again and loosens, like itâs 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.Â
He doesnât 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.  Â
Heâs so fucking deep. Impossibly, almost.Â
He may just make you cum like this, without even needing to touch your clit. Heâs making you learn so much about what your body can do when in the right hands. No wonder people are so obsessed with him. Heâs 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 couldâve made you cum like that as well, but he tailors himself for each girl. Adapts for them. For you.Â
And heâs learning you pretty well. Probably read you like a fucking book.Â
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 canât help it, though. Not when it feels this good. Certainly not when another orgasm is building, more rapidly than the others.Â
You squirm under him, toes curling and nails digging into the mattress.Â
âIâ mmfâ! Youâre⌠youâre gonna make me cum again,â you have to speak quickly before it hits you.Â
San leans over you, hands planted right next to your shoulders, fucking you harder. âGive it to me, pretty girl. I want every fucking drop.âÂ
Someone dressed in all black stands right in front of you, pointing something towards you. It doesnât register that itâs the camera guy with the handheld camera for a couple seconds. You imagine heâs 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 wonât let up on you once you do⌠again.Â
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 mustâve been loud because your throat feels scratchy and rough all of a sudden, but your head is in such a rush that you donât even hear anything.Â
San holds you by your throat now, making you keep your face up.Â
Just as you predicted, San doesnât stop or slow his pace whatsoever. True to his promise that heâs âgonna make you feel so goodâ. Well, that promise is currently turning you into a limp, fucked out mess. Youâve never had this many orgasms so quick in succession before. Itâs making your hormones go absolutely wild, and you cry harder, wetting Sanâs hand with your tears. The camera loves it.Â
There are some sounds near you that you canât be bothered to discern, and you just lean into Sanâs 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, youâre not entirely sure how many more times you can cum without passing out. You hope heâll stop before that happens. You donât want to embarrass yourself like that.Â
San subtly taps your throat, getting your attention, before raising your head a little higher by the throat.Â
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 youâre being. Tears sting your eyes, both from exertion and from the intense pleasure San is giving you.Â
âPussyâs so good⌠so tight and wet⌠could fuck you forever.âÂ
Director Choi silently motions for San to keep talking like that.Â
San grunts, fighting to catch his breath enough to speak again. âSuch a good girl⌠gonna make you cum again.âÂ
And he does.Â
Before you even realize that itâs been simmering and building, it knocks into you sideways. This time, you canât even scream. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out due to your body locking up. San releases your throat, worried that youâre not breathing â and heâs 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.Â
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.Â
Itâs somehow both torture and a relief. You feel so fucking full, but he isnât doing anything to continue the dull flames that engulf your lower stomach, and yet you know itâs better than being empty. He could pull out, leave you to deal with that emptiness before you felt ready. He doesnât. Appreciative thoughts swirl around your head and you cry harder, trying to hide your tears in the sheets.Â
When the camera crew and director see that heâs not continuing, they call for another break. Everyone moves away, and thereâs no longer a black cloud in front of you.Â
San doesnât move an inch, though. Â
He brushes through your hair with his fingers, comforting you. Heâs intent on waiting until you calm down, not wanting to push you too far before youâre 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.Â
But youâre addicted yourself. A real glutton for the pleasure heâs 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.Â
âI know, baby. Just relax with me for a moment.âÂ
You pout, another tear roaming down your cheek. Deep down, you know heâs right. Your body has been pleading for a break two orgasms ago. Itâs 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 Sanâs fingers running through your hair.Â
Itâs a nice moment. Â
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 itâs stopped swimming. Little by little, your energy comes back.Â
You take a deep inhale, sighing contently as you exhale it back out. Looking behind you again, you catch him already watching you.Â
âHi,â you mumble, half-smiling.
San smirks, his hand cupping your cheek. âHey, pretty girl. Feel okay?âÂ
You nod, humming, and you subtly push back against him. The feeling of his cock pressing into you doesnât shock your body as much as it did before. Now itâs a welcome, familiar feeling. Sought after. You really are addicted. Maybe even insatiable when it comes to how well he fucks you.Â
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 donât bother wondering where he got it from. You have a pretty good idea. Theyâre always everywhere during a break.Â
Once youâre 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.Â
You push back again, trying to get him to move. You hear him chuckle behind you.Â
âGreedy little thing, arenât you?âÂ
Instead of contradicting his statement, you just nod. Why lie?Â
âWanna make you cum too,âÂ
San hums, just barely rolling his hips into yours. âHow do you wanna do that, kitten?âÂ
You steel yourself for what youâre 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.Â
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 donât 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.Â
Youâll fix that gladly.Â
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the crew start to come back to their spots â 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.Â
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 donât give him much time to adjust before you start moving.Â
You swear you hear him whimper. Just once, but you catch it nevertheless.Â
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.Â
You kiss him back just as eagerly, increasing your pace. Your thighs already start to protest from the strain, but you canât bring yourself to care or stop. Not when heâs 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
Itâs a battle to try and ignore your own pleasure, building up for a fifth time. Youâre not convinced you can cum again. However, now youâre willing to see what happens. If you faint, you faint.Â
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.Â
âSo fucking good,â he hisses, âsuch a good girl⌠gonna make me cum so hard.âÂ
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.Â
âWant you to cum inside me,â you beg him, hot breath hitting his neck. You feel him shudder underneath you.Â
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.Â
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.Â
He lets out a choked moan, cutting it off by kissing you one more time before his eyes shut tight.Â
âGonna cumâŚfuck, Iâm gonna cum so deep inside you, kitten. Gonna feel me for days.âÂ
You whine at his words, and he seems to have worked himself up further by saying it as well.Â
âPlease, sir, need your cum inside of me. Please give it to meââÂ
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.Â
He pounds into you without any more room for mercy, concentrating on coming again. And he can feel that youâre close again too.Â
âCum with me,â he pants against your neck, âgive me one more. Let me feel your pretty cunt cum on my cock one more time, baby.â         Â
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.Â
As if that all wasnât enough, San spits on his fingers and starts to rub your clit again.Â
Everything adds up to push you over the edge.Â
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.Â
And your climax triggers his.
True to his word, he comes deep inside of you, filling you up until itâs 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. Youâre definitely not used to coming this much.Â
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.Â
Unbeknownst to you, heâs never cum that hard before. Years of experience behind him, sure, heâs gotten close to this level, but never was able to reach it until now.Â
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.Â
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 âthank youâ. You whimper, legs closing when he pulls away.Â
âCut! Print it.âÂ
And heâs gone.Â
You feel you just got a violent slap back into reality.Â
WhatâŚjust happened? You slowly push yourself up, with admittedly great difficulty.Â
Half of the staff flutter around you, while the others flock to Sanâs side, covering him up in his robe and starting to lead him towards his dressing room. The production assistants assigned to you donât 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. Itâs all over just like that.Â
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 âactorâ. 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 Sanâs dressing room door. Your eyes threaten to tear up, a dull yet powerful feeling of rejection blooming in your chest.Â
Maybe you arenât 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 Sanâs belt.Â
Director Choi suddenly appears in front of you, and youâre quick to act like nothing is wrong. âYou did great,â he says, âthank you for your time today.âÂ
You manage a fake smile and thank him as well, apologizing for any issues you may have caused by being impatient or loud.Â
He simply waves it off, âHappens more than you think. Have a good rest of your night, Miss Y/L/N. Maybe weâll work together again in the future.âÂ
âMaybeâ.Â
His words stick to you, gnawing at your skin like leeches. He truly didnât 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.Â
You imagine going back home and going live again. The notorious four exclusive viewers will want to know how it went, and youâre going to have to tell them something. You doubt youâll be able to lie. Woo will probably be able to tell somethingâs wrong.Â
Maybe, once this check hits, you can just disappear for the foreseeable future. If youâre astronomically lucky, everyone will forget it happened so you wonât have to relive the very tail end of it. You run a hand through your hair. Youâre 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 canât say you really blame him, though â that is his job. San should be his priority.Â
Itâs just that you desperately wish for a friendly face, or someone to genuinely check in with you. Comfort you.Â
Not to be surrounded by strangers who wonât look you in the eye. Â
You donât even know if heâs 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 theyâll have to delete.Â
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.Â
Gathering up all the courage imaginable, your hand raises in a fist, and you softly knock on the door three times.Â
To be honest, youâre not really expecting a response. Half of the staff are gone already, itâs unlikely that heâd 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 itâs already nearing nine oâclock. 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.   Â
Distracted, you jump about a mile in the air when the door opens, revealing San, now also dressed and looking like heâs ready to leave. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the sight of you.Â
âHey,â he says, so casually. âWhatâre you still doing here?âÂ
Embarrassment hits you like a brick wall. Yep, just another girl on the callsheet that stuck around to beg him for more. Ugh.Â
âIâm sorry, I donât want to bother you,â you say, already giving up on the whole idea of confronting him. Britney canât help you now.Â
You start to turn on your heel, but he opens the door wider, stepping aside as if to invite you in. âNo, no. Not bothering me. Whatâs up?âÂ
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 isnât. Itâs 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.Â
Still⌠you and Yeosang arenât dating, and after your collab with him, he redressed you and cuddled you for an hour straight. He made sure you knew he wasnât going anywhere, that the friendship is still intact. You werenât being used.Â
You hesitate to step into his dressing room, and ultimately decide to just stay put. Stand your ground. You donât want to take too long, you just need an answer.Â
Out with it.Â
âI was just wondering why you left so quickly? Did I do something to offend you in any way?â Â
San blinks, slight confusion clouding his face. âOh, no, I justâ I saw your form. Didnât want to hang around and make you uncomfortable.âÂ
Now you stare at him, just as confused. âWait, what? What about my form?âÂ
âYou checked off âHard Noâ to aftercare.â Â
âŚPardon?Â
No way.Â
He must see the bewilderment in your face because he fishes his phone out of his pocket to show you.Â
âYeah, Hongjoong saidâŚâ he trails off, the light of his phone screen reflecting in his dark brown eyes. âYeah, look.âÂ
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 âHard Noâ for aftercare. Luckily, you didnât select one of the bodily fluid options as a âHard Yesâ in your evident past confusion. You bury your face in your hands.Â
âOh my god. That was meant to be a âHard Yesâ.â 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. Youâre going to have to do some serious damage control to get Yeosang to not hate him forever. Itâll surely start with a screenshot of the form you fucked up, followed by a dramatic statement of your stupidity.Â
San pockets his phone again, almost sheepish. He hesitantly steps closer to you, unsure of how to fix this.Â
âIâm so sorry,â he says quietly, âI shouldâve double checked with you.âÂ
âNo, no, please donât blame yourself when itâs my own mistake.âÂ
âStillâŚâ he trails off, looking down at the floor.Â
It hits you that heâs really hurt by this. Hurt for you.Â
âSanâŚâ you tilt your head to try and meet his eye. âItâs alright, really. I feel much better now that I know it wasnât on purpose or because I did something wrong.âÂ
âIâd never do that to you, or anybody. I always stress how important aftercare is to the directors I work with so they donât try to rush through it.â 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.Â
Damn, he really is nice. Here you were at the start of this, thinking heâd 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 isnât used to make anyone feel small, thatâs the important difference. Itâs confidence, more than anything.Â
âI know,â you smile, trying to make him feel better. âReally, itâs okay.âÂ
He seems unconvinced. âCan I make it up to you in some way?âÂ
You shift your weight from one foot to the other. If you wouldnât immediately cringe at yourself for doing so, youâd 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 itâs something you were so against, and he respected it anyway, is more than enough.Â
âYou donât have to, San.âÂ
âI want to, Y/N.âÂ
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.Â
âCan I walk you out?âÂ
That, youâll allow.Â
âSure. Are you going home?â You ask, changing the subject as the two of you start walking towards the exit doors.Â
âNah, not yet. Thereâs a gym on this floor Iâm gonna go to first.âÂ
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. Itâs highly doubtful that youâll wake up before three in the afternoon. Truthfully, you canât wait. Maybe youâll sleep off some of the soreness youâre sure to have tomorrow.Â
âOh, by the way, do you have an agent?â San asks you out of nowhere, right before you get to the doors.Â
You blink once. Twice, processing. âNoâŚ?âÂ
Yeosangâs the only one who may even come close. Heâs the one you ask before doing anything, wanting his opinion and blessing. But technically and professionally, no, youâre an independent artist as far as youâre concerned.Â
âIâd find one soon,â San says, glancing towards the bed, soaked through. âYouâre about to get a lot of offers.âÂ
You blush furiously, reminded of everything that transpired between you barely an hour ago. âMaybe I should just take yours.âÂ
San groans, âHonestly, do it. Iâm sure Joong could use a break from my bullshit.âÂ
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.Â
âMaybe I will let you have him,â he says, a smirk growing across his face. âItâs good manners.âÂ
He looks at you like he knows something you donât, and it bothers you. The word choice sounds familiar, but you canât 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.Â
âGoodnight, baby.â 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.Â
Fuckinâ hellâŚÂ
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. âMannersâ. It bugs you so much, you know you heard something about it recently, but canât pinpoint where or when.Â
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 youâre ready to be picked up downstairs and taken home. From down the hallway, you hear the door to the studio swing open again â 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.Â
But the footsteps that follow the sound of the door closing are what gives you pause. Theyâre hurried, and headed towards the lobby. The elevator dings behind you. You turn around just as the mystery runner comes around the corner.Â
âOh! Hi, Mr. Kimââ Â
Hongjoong jogs over to you, catching you before the elevator doors open.Â
âSorry if I startled you. San is wondering if we can arrange another collab, but this time on your livestream.â He speaks quickly, like time is of the essence. Â
You stutter, brain trying to connect with your vocal cords.Â
âWhat?â You ask, even though you heard and processed everything Hongjoong said just fine. Youâre just wondering if you actually heard him right. Today just keeps getting stranger and stranger. More interesting, definitely.Â
Heâs quick to repeat himself, almost pleading with his eyes for you to say âyesâ.Â
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.Â
You canât help it. You want to make him chase you again.Â
âTell him Iâll think about it,â you say as sweetly as possible, stepping into the elevator.Â
You try not to enjoy the perplexed look on Hongjoongâs face until the doors close completely.Â
Everything in his world is immediate. Youâre not used to it whatsoever.Â
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 canât help but gawk at the sight of it.Â
How the hell did he find your address?Â
Ohâ Hongjoong, probably. Your initial creeped-out feeling vanishes. Hongjoong can just find anything for San, youâre sure.Â
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 canât help but smile â he really did want to make it up to you.Â
You pluck the small card from the flowers and read it, sitting down at your kitchen island.Â
Hope you had a good time today.Â
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.Â
Perhaps you missed a hidden clause in the forms that makes you promise to not fall in love with him.Â
for mature audiences only, minors will be stockaded in the town square
⢠a/n: the long awaited... | this is NOT in any way, shape, or form meant to depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities, please and thank you.
⢠summary: everyone knows choi san. the choi san. and the pornstar wonder boy just invited you to do a collab with him
⢠word count: 35.7K
⢠warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | masturbation (f), oral (m,f), p->v, unprotected sex (don't do that), squirting, edging, dirty talk, san makes a Crazy first impression, cowgirl/riding, bondage (f, not reader), slight yeosang x reader (mentioned), porn industry, blowjob, fingering, basically just everything youâd find in a porn
You love that you can wake up whenever you want, and that you have no set schedule to live by. The only deadlines you have to worry about are the ones you make for yourself. You love your beautiful apartment that you didnât need anyone elseâs 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? Itâs a dream.Â
And itâs easy money, giving men a fantasy for the night.Â
Thatâs what you sell, the idea of you. In everyday life, you donât pout nearly as much as you do on camera, nor do you talk as sweetly to strangers. Some of them, though, arenât 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.Â
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. Heâd worn a face mask to protect his identity, but it had been so obvious that heâs 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. Â
His whole face had turned red when you showed him the number of views, hiding behind his hands for good measure. Heâs always been shy, it was a damn miracle you even got him to do it in the first place.Â
Since then, youâve been living quite comfortably. Yeosang, too. Despite your efforts to convince him to create his own account for people to subscribe to, heâs maintained his âinnocenceâ. However, recently heâs been asking you more and more about the details and dynamics of running an account like yours. Youâre almost afraid to jinx it, like if you ask him outright if heâs thinking about it, heâll forget the whole thing and never do it. Who are you to potentially accidentally deny the general paying population of your hot friend?Â
He may become even more popular than me, you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.Â
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.Â
Nine hundred, and climbing.Â
Whoa.
You let out a low whistle at the number, the highest youâve ever seen it just for the amount of people waiting. Youâre 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 canât see the audience youâve gathered, you still feel that there are nine hundred pairs of eyes on you in your bedroom. Thereâs a nervous flutter in your chest that you canât seem to shake off in the dwindling minutes before your stream begins.Â
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 tonightâs performance.Â
A âperformanceâ is basically all it is.  Â
Your fingers hover over the trackpad of your laptop, counting down the seconds until there are none left, and you click âGo Liveâ.Â
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 â and then some â just for the chance to hear you read their username and thank them in your sweet voice.Â
So easy. Â
You saturate your greeting with honey, looking up into the laptop camera, eyes round and innocent.Â
âHi, everyone,â you sing, giggling for all of the people vying for your attention. Each comment is sent with the hope that youâll 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.Â
You lean back on your hands, pretending that you donât know what youâre 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.Â
âMy day was okay, thank you,â you purr, knowing you just made someone nearly cream their pants by answering their question. âBut⌠Iâve just been so lonely.âÂ
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 theyâll be there for you, that theyâll never leave. Itâs 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.Â
[user75846] will yeo be joining you?
You read the comment aloud, shaking your head in quiet defeat. âNo, itâs just me tonight.âÂ
Some comments beg for his return, others are happy that itâs just you â the jealous types â 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.Â
âIâve been so sad and lonely all day⌠you guys will help me, right?âÂ
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 donât 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. Thereâs no rush â not for you, at least. But one comment catches your eye because of its impatience.  Â
[mntn3000]: start.
Very blunt. You donât recognize the username as one of your regulars or subscribers. Whoever this is must be new. Youâve run and maintained a rather strict program with your subscribers when it comes to what they say in the live chat â politeness being one of the main rules. The lack of a âpleaseâ 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 heâll blow his load and leave. It happens. For now, youâll have fun with him. Teach this newcomer some manners.Â
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.Â
âOh dear⌠âmntn3000â just said âstartâ. No âpleaseâ? Will someone let him know how this works?â You keep your voice sugary, making sure everyone knows you arenât hurt or being stuck-up, but that youâre rather amused at the comment.Â
Almost immediately, upon request, you see one of your regulars tag the newcomer in a message explaining the chat rules.Â
âThank you, Woo,â 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.Â
âWooâ, your nickname for him from his username, has become somewhat of an anonymous friend to you. Heâs subscribed to your highest level tier and the VIP extras that you offer, including private shows and a group chat on Discord. Heâs always the first to step in if someone says something out of line or disrespectful in any way. Your own personal guard dog.Â
Whoever he is, âmntn3000â doesnât say anything to Wooâs message.Â
Fourteen hundred people now.Â
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 youâll make tonight, it just makes you want to put on an even better show.Â
âIf you want somethingâŚâ you purr, taking your shirt off completely. The comments erupt. âAsk nicely~â you tease, giggling to yourself.
A donation pops up immediately, the sum of which nearly makes you gape.  Â
[mntn3000] has donated $500Â
Well⌠thatâs certainly nice.Â
[mntn3000]: start, kitten
Thatâll do it.Â
Youâre quick to control your reaction to the generous donation. However, now you canât help but feel like youâre performing under pressure. Some of your other patrons comment on it, but youâre on autopilot now.Â
One more deep breath in and your tight little shorts soon join your shirt on the floor.Â
You exhale audibly, turning the breath into a quiet moan as your hand continues to explore your own body. This time, you donât 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. Itâs easy to pretend that the touch belongs to someone elseâs manipulation.Â
Itâs more than just a little confusing for you to immediately imagine itâs Yeosang, if not friendship-wise. The two of you have mutually agreed that youâre platonic. The collaboration was just⌠a friend helping a friend. Moreso than the views and money you earned from it, youâre 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 canât remember exactly right now, youâre a bit preoccupied.Â
You pry your eyes open to read the chat, wanting to know if theyâre enjoying the view so far.Â
[user92834]: i keep expecting yeo to show up ă ă Â i miss him
You whine, only able to nod once or twice. âI miss Yeo, too.âÂ
Now youâre 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 âplatonicallyâ overstimulating you for the better part of an hour? Maybe. You think you just need to get laid soon. Admittedly, itâs been rather long since you have been. Longer than most of your viewers will ever believe. Â
âI wish someone was here to help me,â you blink slowly into the camera, pouting again.Â
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.Â
Except one.Â
You havenât seen that âmntn3000â guyâs username pop up since he sent the generous donation earlier. You wonder if heâs still watching. Maybe heâs embarrassed from earlier.Â
Whatever. Heâs more likely just another background viewer. You probably wonât hear from him again.Â
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 everythingâs in view. Satisfied with what you see, you resume touching yourself, continuing to loudly suck on your fingers for good measure.Â
[user82392] has donated $5
[user01743] has donated $20
[puppyu.u] has donated $50
[mars9843] has donated $50Â
[puppyu.u] has donated $100
You canât help but smile, watching the silent competition between your viewers. Every time someone ups the amount theyâre willing to drop on you, thereâs dozens more who are willing to match it. You feel like youâre at auction. Who will win in the end? Usually, itâs one of your regulars, the ones with access to the private Discord, who come out on top. Youâre betting on âpuppyu.uâ tonight. He seems like he has something to prove.Â
No oneâs quite willing to match âmntn3000ââs five hundred dollar starting offer just yet.Â
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.Â
But heâs quiet now. Maybe he spent all he had in one go. It happens sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes.Â
Youâre not sure why youâre so hung up on this random user. Youâre 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.Â
And you have just the thing for it.Â
While they spend money to achieve imagined dominance over the others in the chat, you reach just offscreen to grab your favorite dildo. Itâs 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 youâre content, grateful to have something in your mouth again. In reality, this is just so that it goes inside of you easier.  Â
This time, you donât make them wait.Â
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, youâll pay less and less attention to the chat, only focusing on the pleasure youâre creating for yourself.Â
But this time, somethingâs off.Â
No matter what you do, you canât 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 youâre too tense to feel anything, but itâs quite hard to relax when youâre this frustrated already. Youâre not about to let the audience know that, but itâs discouraging. You donât like to lie, but again, itâs 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. Â
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. Itâs so close you can almost taste it, quickening your pulse and electrifying every vein in your body. Thereâs 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. Â
You make a sharp, high-pitched noise out of frustration, which hopefully comes across as ecstacy instead. Youâre not even enjoying it anymore, and your hand begins to slow down the pumps of the dildo as your fake moans increase again. Thereâs a trick you know to make your legs look like theyâre realistically shaking from an orgasm â learned by ego-boosting one too many failed relationships and one night stands in the past â and you use it now.Â
Ugh.Â
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.Â
What the fuck was that? You think to yourself, tilting your head back to hide your look of confusion. Youâre 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.Â
Steeling yourself as best you can, you straighten and take a look at the chat.Â
All worries melt away at once as soon as you notice the heart emojis that flood the comment section. Youâre 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, youâre proven to be loved no matter what.Â
There are a few more donations, although theyâve slowed down now that youâre 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, thereâs one username youâre stuck on that youâre not seeing. Not yet. You hope youâre 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.
Itâs 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.Â
He only sends one word. Four letters.Â
[mntn3000]: cuteÂ
[mntn3000] has donated $1000
[mntn3000] has left the stream
Huh. Your spinning head almost registers that. A good thing about streaming is that youâre 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 thatâs 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.Â
âThereâs thousands of others you could have spent your time with tonight, so thank you for choosing me. I hope I made it worth it.âÂ
In the middle of catching your breath, you manage a small grin into the camera. With a whispered, âgoodnightâ, 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.Â
You force yourself to move after five minutes, showering, changing into new, comfier clothes and taking your makeup off in the bathroom until itâs just you in the mirror, and not the character. Itâs not until youâre 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.  Â
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.Â
[yeoyeođť]: another successful day at the office?
You canât help but grin, burying yourself under the covers and texting him back quickly.Â
[y/nđ¸]: another small fortune đĽą
[yeoyeođť]: still wanna hang out tomorrow?
[yeoyeođť]: or is the princess too tiredÂ
[y/nđ¸]: stfu đ
[y/nđ¸]: yes pls i miss you :(Â
[yeoyeođť]: fine fineÂ
[yeoyeođť]: iâll be over at noonÂ
[yeoyeođť]: you better be awake -.-Â
[y/nđ¸]: goodnight pretty boy!
[yeoyeođť]: đđť
[yeoyeođť]: goodnightÂ
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.Â
$14,601.Â
You whistle lowly at the sight of it. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars for thirty minutes of âworkâ. If you spend and save wisely, youâll never have to set foot in an office for as long as you live.Â
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. Â
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, youâre 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 youâll ask Yeosang if heâd like to come too. The thought excites you, making you want to stay up and look at potential destinations.Â
Closing out of the calculator and banking apps, youâre just about to go on TikTok to look through your âdream vacayâ folder, when a notification directs your eyes upward. Itâs from your email, but it's no promotional message from one of the many stores you shop at, nor is it spam.Â
The sender is simply âH.J Kimâ, accompanied by three words in the subject line: âExclusive Collaboration Offerâ.Â
That certainly piques your interest, although it could just be a scam. Since you donât have an agent, youâve learned the hard way how to filter out those who just wish to take your hard-earned â well⌠earned â money away from you. When you were just starting out, you had to change numerous passwords more than once. Youâre 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 doesnât use more words than he has to, and the word choice seems rather official. Not as scammy as youâre used to.Â
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,Â
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.Â
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.Â
Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to the possibility of working together.Â
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 youâre reading it correctly. Thereâs simply no way someone like Choi San knows you exist, and if he does, then how? Sure, youâre gaining popularity on cam platforms, but you didnât think the industry on the other side of the coin would take notice. Maybe youâve just been naive. Itâs essentially the same thing but without a script or team involved. You do everything yourself â the lights, the camera, the action. The idea of even attempting what âAfterdarkâ is known for is quite daunting. The thought of potentially meeting San even more so.Â
Everyone knows Choi San.Â
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.Â
Itâs still not fully clicking that youâve been offered a chance to work with him. Not yet. Most likely, itâll hit you in the morning when you check your phone for the millionth time, making sure you didnât 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.Â
âFuckinâ hellâŚâ you whisper, pressing your palm to your mouth, reading the email over just one more time. Thatâs what you tell yourself anyway.Â
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?Â
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 Sanâs videos. For research. Literally. Your thought process is to refresh your memory, imagine yourself in the actressâ 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.Â
It starts off like many others of its kind, a flashy montage of whatâs to come â pun unfortunately intended â to entice viewers to keep watching. You skip ahead, like many do, not caring for whatever âplotâ 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 heâs a decent actor. You stop skipping through it towards the end of their conversation, landing at the proposition and steadily rising scripted passion.Â
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. Itâs not fiery or intimidating, no, itâs something much worse.Â
Desire.Â
He mumbles something under his breath that you donât 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. Youâre 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 wonât.Â
Because the next time you skip, impatience gnawing at you to just see and know what he does, youâre thrown right into the fray.Â
The camera is almost cinematic, capturing precise angles where everything can be seen, the lighting low and sensual. Theyâre 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 actressâ eyes, but you can tell right away sheâs 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 sheâs getting just as much out of this experience as he will. At this point, youâre 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.Â
When sheâs 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 mustâve 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.Â
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.Â
Your thighs clench. Thatâd be you.Â
His voice drifts languidly from your laptop speakers, melting your brain even further. âYes, baby, thatâs it. There you go⌠such a good girl.âÂ
A girlish squeal gets stuck in your throat and you press your lips together to ensure you donât let it out. You havenât even said yes yet. There could be conditions you donât agree with, payment arguments. He could be an asshole for all you know. Or this could all be a very elaborate and convincing scam.Â
Still, just in case it is real, and for the sake of âresearchâ, you keep watching.Â
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 itâs like to kiss him. Your hands itch to reach for your phone and text Yeosang to tell him everything, however, youâre rather busy holding them still at the moment. Â
You appreciate how he doesnât 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.Â
San checks in with her quietly, and with a nod from her and another peck on the lips, heâs 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 youâre almost sure she didnât realize she even said anything. Sheâs staring up at him like heâs a deity. Like heâs come down from heaven just for her. And sheâs not acting.Â
One thing you know for sure: youâd be stupid to decline the offer.Â
You consider your mind made up.Â
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 doesnât care. Itâll be in Mr. Kim Hongjoongâs 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.Â
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 oâclock 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.Â
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 doesnât mean you have to ruin his as well. Your fingers absentmindedly tap the carton, only two sips deep in your drink. Hm.Â
Youâre 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 Yeosangâs REM cycle.Â
Not expecting a response so soon, your eyes widen a bit when you see that youâve gotten a response back already. The quickness makes you a little wary. Scams usually are quick to respond back too.Â
Or, this âHongjoongâ guy may have a sleep schedule quite like yours. After all, you responded rather quickly to his first email.Â
__________________________
Hi Miss Y/N,Â
Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.Â
The next steps in moving forward are rather simple. I will ask you to fill out a form â which I have linked to this e-mail â 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.Â
 After you have sent that and we go over it, I would like to meet with you â either in person or through video call â 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. Â
As always, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Looking forward to hearing from you again.Â
âWe are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.âÂ
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: âWe have been admiring your work for a while nowâŚâ Not just the company. âWeâ as inâŚÂ
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 canât stop reading this new message. Thereâs so much to unpack, even though itâs so straightforward. As of right now, in regards to meeting with Kim Hongjoong, youâre leaning towards just a video call. Youâre still not quite totally convinced this isnât an elaborate prank of some kind. Maybe a weird fan who wants this to happen but thereâs no truth to it. But again⌠you donât get that vibe. Not from how professional this seems. And a crazy fan wouldnât offer to bring along another woman to make you feel more comfortable, heâd insist on meeting alone, under the guise of âprotecting our privacyâ.Â
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.Â
Dammit, Yeosang, why canât you be awake right now, you think and you huff dramatically, burying your face in your hands. Heâll certainly get an earful of all of this tomorrow afternoon. Â Â
But you decide you need to talk this through to somebody right now. Or some people.Â
Even though you just went live, youâre quick to open your Discord app, not even bothering to send a warning message to tell your exclusive members that youâre going live again. This time, just for them. You know theyâll come. They always do.Â
Once you have your laptop adjusted and headphones on, youâre ready to go. You click the microphone button and wait. Â
As expected, four of them join immediately. You regularly wonder how theyâre 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.Â
âHi guys! I have big news,â you smile into the camera, reading all the messages as they pop up.Â
[woogoesthere]: tell ussssssss!!!!!
[fix0nmi]: đ?
[mars9843]: what is it cutie?
[puppyu.u]: hi baby why the secret meeting?? đ
You take a minute to let them get all their guesses out, increasing their desperation to know what youâre hiding from them. Hopefully theyâll take the news well. As far as you can tell, none of them specifically come across as the parasocial jealous type, but you donât 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.Â
âIâve been offered to do a collab with someone fromâŚâ You pause before saying the company name for dramatic effect. âAfterdark.â
Youâre 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 â and charitable â fans. The abrupt absence makes your heart plummet to your stomach.Â
It takes a full minute before anyone says anything. The longest minute of your whole life.Â
[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.Â
âShould I be worried?â you half joke.Â
The immediate responses in the comments are overwhelming and collective:
[puppyu.u]: yes!!!!!!Â
[mars9843]: be afraid, be very afraidÂ
[fix0nmi]: heâs gonna wreck you lmaoÂ
[fix0nmi]: icw to watch đ¤Ş
[puppyu.u]: same đđđ
[mars9843]: if you could barely handle yeoâŚâŚâŚ
Your confident smile fades slightly, the corners of your mouth dropping back down as you read the multiple comments confirming what youâve been wondering.Â
[woogoesthere]: guys stop ur gonna scare her ă ă
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.Â
[puppyu.u]: well itâs trueÂ
[woogoesthere]: we should be encouraging tho >:(Â
[fix0nmi]: yeah or else she wonât do it đ
[mars9843]: âŚÂ
[mars9843]: y/n weâre just kiddinggggg
[fix0nmi]: youâll be fine~! >:)Â
[woogoesthere]: -.-Â
[puppyu.u]: drink lots of water beforehand!Â
[woogoesthere]: you pervs are so annoying
âI can do it!â You try to regain your previous confidence.Â
A shroud of doubt begins to creep up over your shoulders, weighing you down. Youâre able to hide it well, but you go quiet. Quieter than usual when youâre live. You donât like silences that last too long. Unfortunately, your sudden silence is noticeable.Â
[puppyu.u]: babyyyyyyÂ
[puppyu.u]: donât listen to us weâre just teasingÂ
[fix0nmi]: haha sorry baby
[mars9843]: youâre gonna be great, pretty girlÂ
[fix0nmi]: canât wait to see it ;)Â
[woogoesthere]: you ARE gonna be great
[woogoesthere]: choi san has no idea what an honor this is fr ă ă
That last message brings your smile back, tugging at the corners of your mouth until you give into it. âWooâ is right. You have to remember who the fuck you are. Choi San sought you out specifically. Thereâs no need to be nervous about anything. Itâs a different side of an industry that youâre already accustomed to, thatâs all. You just have to adapt to however it operates for one day, and if you hate it, youâll never have to do it again. And hey, youâll get to say youâve had that first and only experience with San of all people.Â
What a debut.Â
Your loyal fans must notice the confidence boost youâre experiencing because theyâre quick to praise it in the chat.Â
[fix0nmi]: there she is :)Â
[woogoesthere]: ugh ur too cuteÂ
[puppyu.u]: fr that bastard has no idea how lucky he is ă ă
[mars9843]: he better be nice to u >:(Â
âAww, you guys are so sweet,â you giggle softly, enjoying their attention and their praises. Your nerves are somewhat settled for the time being, though you canât promise they wonât return once you open your eyes tomorrow morning. You wonder what Yeosang will say about it.Â
Leaning back against your headboard, you exhale deeply â maybe even adding a little hint of a whine-like noise to keep them entertained. âPervsâ, as âWooâ put it, indeed. Not that you minded.Â
You hum to yourself and mention how much better theyâve made your night, and they eat it up.Â
âThank you all for your love and support. Truly.â   Â
You talk with them for a while longer, reciprocating their interest in you by asking them about their days and what theyâre doing tomorrow. One of the silent viewers goes offline, and you canât say that you blame them â no one should still be awake at this hour. Youâre not sure if youâll fall asleep quickly after you log off, so maybe thatâs 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 itâs their choice to stay and talk, but still. Odds are that at least one of them has to be up early tomorrow morning. They wonât leave until you do.Â
âIâm gonna go to bed, guys. Thank you for staying up and chatting with me.â You smile, watching all of their usernames simultaneously start typing again.Â
[mars9843]: goodnight cutie
[fix0nmi]: night babe ;)
[woogoesthere]: aww have a good night jagi <333Â
[puppyu.u]: sweet dreams baby <3
[puppyu.u]: <3333
You giggle, noticing âpuppyu.uââs competitiveness. Before âWooâ can start a war to see how many 3âs they can add to their hearts, you quickly blow them all a kiss and end the call.Â
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.Â
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. Itâs from Woo. Your exclusive members have the username of your âbusinessâ Venmo account to send you money outside of cams, if they choose to. The message he attaches to the money makes you laugh: âiâm not losing to puppyu.u so easily. goodnight<333333333333âÂ
Oh, man.Â
Make that $14,751 now.Â
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, itâs 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.Â
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 canât look away. A shiver runs through you when you picture how his hands held her with such gentle strength, and the addictive moans he wasnât afraid to let out. The same thought echoes until you finally fall asleep: thatâll be you. Â
Against all odds, and seven missed alarms later, you manage to wake up â albeit, exhausted â around ten oâclock. Plenty of time before Yeosang is due to come over.Â
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.Â
From what you can find, youâve 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 couldâve succeeded in any field of his choosing, but his candor is notoriously present and blunt whenever he gets asked why heâs gone into this profession: âI like sex. I happen to be good at it, so why not?âÂ
You get it. Easy money.Â
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 â and counting â 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 âmntn3000â 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 Sanâs. 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⌠âdesiresâ. Youâre 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.Â
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.Â
You rest your head in your hands, groaning to no one in particular. After all the women heâs been with, you hope you can meet his expectations. A worthy costar. Same industry, different department.Â
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.Â
âHey, sorry.â You apologize, ushering him in and locking the door behind him.Â
âI knew you wouldnât be awake,â he grins, making himself right at home on your couch. âIs going live for thirty minutes really all it takes to make you catatonic the rest of the day?âÂ
You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder as you sit down next to him. âShut up, itâs not because of that. Well⌠not exactly.âÂ
Yeosang quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. âGo on, then. Whatâs up?âÂ
You pull out your phone, ready to show him the evidence to back up what youâre about to say. The original email is still unchanged as you glance down at it, which is encouraging. Another reminder that you didnât make this all up in your head. It didnât happen in a dream, thereâs hard evidence staring you in the face.Â
Well, now or never. Out with it.Â
âI, um⌠I got an offer to work with Choi San.â Your voice toes the line between excitement and cautious optimism. If anyoneâs opinion matters to you at all, itâs Yeosangâs.Â
Yeosangâs eyebrows raise at the name. âLike⌠the Choi San?â
âThe Choi San, yes.â You nod, confirming itâs exactly who heâs thinking about.Â
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 youâve grown out of, only to be proven wrong in times like these.Â
Yeosangâs face is serious as he reads it. You can tell heâs 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.      Â
âAre you gonna do it?â 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. Heâs just worried about you. Itâs more⌠public than youâre used to.Â
âI donât know,â you shrug, answering him honestly. âIâve 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?â
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. Â
Yeosang shrugs, âDoesnât 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 donât.â
He makes it sound so easy. Should it be?Â
âYeah, but⌠I value your opinion.â You mumble, not outwardly saying what youâre thinking. But he reads your mind anyway.Â
âY/N, itâs 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 wouldâve told you a long time ago. Yâknow⌠before I collabed with you.âÂ
At this, you canât help but laugh, knowing heâs right. A pressure you didnât 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.Â
âIâm just worried that you wonât survive the experience,â Yeosang says dramatically, covering his eyes with his arm and sneaking a smile your way.Â
âStop, what do you mean?â You push him, playfully.Â
âYou said you researched him, right?âÂ
You nod, wondering where heâs going with this. Is there something youâve missed? You feel like youâre the only one left out of a well-known inside joke. You try to think back to the videos youâve seen of him. Sure, you havenât watched his whole filmography, but nevertheless, youâd like to believe you know roughly what to expect of him when the day comes.Â
âDid you watch the ones heâs done for âFantasyâ?â Yeosang smirks.Â
You blink, trying to remember if you did. To be totally honest, you werenât really paying much attention to which company was posting the videos. Just that San was in them.Â
âI donât know⌠maybe?âÂ
Yeosang shakes his head, already seeming to know the answer. âYouâd know if you did,â he says definitively. âIf you wanna know what heâs really capable of, watch some of those.âÂ
You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, frustrated that no one will just tell you what theyâre talking about. You only have one guess, that it may be due to the fact that youâve 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 itâs not like youâre clueless when it comes to the different kinds of sexual encounters one can experience. Youâve watched porn before â 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 wonât survive him?Â
A part of you kind of doesnât want to know. You donât 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 donât want that. No, youâre determined even more so now to see this through. To prove everyone wrong. More importantly, though, to prove it to yourself.Â
âSounds like he sought you out though,â 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 arenât reading too much into it after all. âKinda seems like this Hongjoong guy and San are fans of yours.âÂ
You hide your face in your hands and groan, making Yeosang laugh at your rare display of shyness. Itâs frustratingly unclear to you why the idea of him watching your content makes your cheeks burn so much. Youâre obviously comfortable with people seeing your body and earning a profit from it, but you like the anonymity of the people watching. You simply donât want to know. Perhaps itâs because heâs about to not be a faceless viewer anymore. Rather, a colleague of sorts.Â
Also, in a way, you tend to view camâing 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.Â
âSounds like it,â you agree. âI mustâve done something he likes to pique his interest.âÂ
Yeosang shrugs, a playful grin tugging at his lips. âOr he saw the collab and this is all just an elaborate ruse to get to me.âÂ
Youâre grateful to relax enough to laugh again. âOh, I bet.â You say, playing along. Though, part of you does wonder for a brief moment if San had watched the collab and thatâs why he thought youâd be a good partner for his next project. Itâs definitely plausible.   Â
âSo,â Yeosang leans back against the couch, crossing his legs, âwhat do you have to do now?âÂ
Remembering the phone in your hand, you look down at it, visualizing that attachment Hongjoong sent you. Yet to be opened. âThereâs a form I have to fill out, I think itâs some kind of consent form.âÂ
He nods, âYeah, thatâd make sense.âÂ
Thereâs 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 youâre thinking a little too hard about something. Â
âDo you want me to go through it with you?â He asks, though he thinks he knows what youâll say.Â
âNo, Iâll do it myself. Itâs gonna ask like⌠in depth questions,â you insinuate, almost shyly.Â
Yeosang doesnât press you on it, which you appreciate. But you know heâs probably thinking thereâs not much he doesnât know about you. After all, he was fingering you to high heaven in front of a camera only a week ago. Still, he doesnât push your privacy or your boundaries. Itâs one of the many things that makes you feel safe with him.Â
Breezing past the subject, knowing you probably need to relieve some stress, he picks up one of the gaming controllers on your coffee table.Â
âRematch?â 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 âinnocentlyâ 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.Â
âYouâre on,â you agree, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as he scoots away from you on the couch.Â
Thereâll be no âaccidentsâ this time. But maybe youâll think of something. Â
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.Â
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 oâclock, yawning and stretching as he gets up to go home â he mentions that he promised his friend heâd 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.  Â
Almost as soon as Yeosang leaves, youâre 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.Â
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.Â
In another tab on incognito mode, you hesitantly type in the search for âchoi san redfantasyâ and bite the inside of your cheek as the page loads. The typical ads pop up before youâre 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. Itâs 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. Thatâs the seller right there. Audiences are in the market for Choi San.Â
There is no plot this time, at least none that you can discern. The lighting is darker, as well as the mood. Thereâs less build up, the action begins almost straight away after the company logo screen fades away.Â
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.Â
San.Â
â...didnât you?â 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.Â
âYou misbehaved today, didn't you?â He purrs, nodding once to give her permission to speak.Â
âYes, sir.â She replies, obediently.Â
The hand in her hair is taken away, and yet she never takes her eyes off of him. You imagine thatâs probably what she was instructed to do⌠but youâre starting to think a director wasnât 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.Â
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 Sanâs design.Â
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 heâs 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 heâs just taking his time, waiting for her to act first. His tempo is carefully curated and well-calculated. He reacts, even though he knows theyâre both just enacting what this company wants to see. Like this isnât just for the cameras. Every scene is serious to him, and yet it doesnât come across as corny or too much. You wonder why he doesnât 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 wouldâve had many rejections.Â
Then again, you imagine itâd be rather hard to make a smooth transition into becoming a serious and respected actor after being in adult films.Â
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. Itâs evident a long time has passed because she keeps shifting her weight, knees never quite finding relief on the floor.  Â
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, Sanâs grip returns to her hair, pulling her closer to his clothed crotch.Â
âBe actually useful for once, baby.â He says sweetly, like heâs praising instead of degrading her. âEarn it.âÂ
You can tell sheâs 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. Heâs not even hard yet. No, he fully expects her to do all the work for him, including getting him ready.Â
While sheâs⌠busy, he lazily takes off his watch, setting it aside and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just above his elbows. Youâve 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 youâve become, panties starting to cling to you.Â
His face is stony, refusing to give away what heâs thinking. Thatâs 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 doesnât bother looking up at him for reassurance anymore. Heâs not giving her anything to work with.Â
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 heâs bored. Or rather, disappointed. From what you can discern from the print against his pants, heâs only half-hard.Â
âYou donât want it that badly, do you?â He asks like heâs already decided her answer.Â
Frantically, she shakes her head, denying his assumption. âNo, no sir, I do want it. Please, I want it soââÂ
Unfortunately for her, his mind is already made up.Â
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 girlâs 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.Â
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.
âSince you couldnât wait and just had to touch yourself before you came to me, Iâm gonna teach you some patience.âÂ
As if the last few times werenât enough, an involuntary sound escapes from her lips. Soon enough, her ass is red and bruised, Sanâs hand quick to punish her for making noise.Â
âBe quiet,â he reminds sternly, âor you get nothing.âÂ
Thatâs good motivation. Suddenly, you feel like you canât make a single noise either.Â
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.Â
Thereâs 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. Itâs when she cranes her neck, attempting to look back to see what heâs doing, that he turns it onto the highest setting and presses it against her clit in one swift motion.Â
Poor thing gasps and screams at the intense, unexpected vibrations, earning her another brutal round of spanks.Â
âShhh,â he hushes her softly, âbe quiet. Donât move.âÂ
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 Sanâs 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, youâd grab your own vibrator from the drawer, but you canât tear your gaze from the screen. You donât want to miss anything, and you feel like pausing it would disrupt the experience. If this is potentially whatâs in store for you, and she doesnât get a break, you donât get one either.Â
Her fists tighten and grab at nothing, still bound behind her back. You can tell sheâs 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 sheâs managing to hold on.Â
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.Â
He takes the vibrator away, switching it off.Â
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.Â
âSee what I have to do?â He sighs, trailing the head of the vibrator down the back of her thighs. âIf you just waited for me, I wouldnât have to do this. I wouldnât have to waste my time teaching you to be patient.â
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 âresearchâ seems a million miles away. A completely different person.Â
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 sheâs 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 canât help but groan out of frustration as you take your hand away. This time, he doesnât administer spanks to her ass, but right on her pussy. And she canât help the high-pitched yelp that leaps from her throat. San spanks her pussy until she shuts up. You donât realize youâve stopped breathing until the uncomfortable pressure in your throat forces you to inhale deeply.Â
The girl shudders after the last smack but doesnât move or say a word. Youâre both rooting for her and secretly hoping sheâll screw up again, just to see what he does. Also, you want to see if heâll actually fuck her.Â
Rather impatiently, you skip ahead a couple of minutes, needing to know if heâs 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 heâs 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. Sheâs moaning but itâs muffled and barely audible â you can imagine San gagged her in some way to keep her quiet after failing over and over again. Possibly with his tie. He doesnât 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.Â
If he denies her again in this state, youâll really be scared of him.Â
And that, he does.Â
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.Â
God damnâ 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 â and you â even more crazy.Â
âIâm doing you a favor,â he says flatly, not caring that sheâs essentially begging for mercy. âYou should be apologizing for making me waste my time to teach you basic manners.âÂ
Your mouth drops open at that. Heâs so mean, and yet if you were in her position â which you may be soon â youâre pretty sure youâd start apologizing right away. But she canât, 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.Â
He presses the vibrator harder against her, making her back arch. âTell me how sorry you are and maybe Iâll stop.âÂ
That grabs her attention. Muffled, garbled, and barely full sentences immediately tumble from her lips, on the off chance that heâll take pity on her and stop this edging torture. Her body shudders violently, cutting off her voice entirely. Â
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 doesnât 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 â which was, in fact, his tie.Â
âIâll give you one chance to tell me the truth,â he mutters in her ear, his other hand lingering dangerously close to her sore mound. âDid you just cum without permission? Yes or no.âÂ
A sob tears itself from her throat, knowing that sheâs been caught.Â
San pulls her hair again, causing her to yelp again. âAnswer me,â he hisses, âand donât you dare lie to me.âÂ
âY-yes, sir,â she whimpers, honest.Â
He doesnât say anything. He doesnât let her go. He just makes her stay with that feeling of guilt, the shame of being caught, and the foreboding knowledge that heâs 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 hasnât even touched her himself, really. Heâs still fully clothed, for fuckâs sake.Â
San sighs, thinking aloud, âWhat should I do with you, hm?âÂ
Busy choking and spluttering around the intrusion in her throat, she canât answer him at all. He probably doesnât want an answer, though. You have a feeling he knows exactly what heâs going to do with her.Â
Once again, youâre 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.Â
âFucking useless slutâŚâ he mutters to himself, just audible enough for her to hear. âYou wanna cum so bad? Fine.âÂ
A new toy is brought into frame, this one looking more daunting than the other two. You can tell itâs one of those two-for-one types, and your heart goes out to her. It slips inside of her easily, though itâs thicker than the previous dildo, all but confirming once again that she did cum without his permission. This time, thereâs no mystery or question about what heâs going to do to her. She knows. The knowing is almost worse than the not-knowing.Â
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.Â
For seven straight orgasms, he just watches her. He doesnât even touch himself even though you can tell heâs hard beneath those tailored pants. Her pleas fall on deaf ears, like heâs not even in the room. Youâve 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 everyoneâs rightâŚÂ
You tap the screen to see how much more of the video is left, and your eyebrows raise when you see thereâs 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.Â
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 sheâs had enough. For the last two orgasms he forces her through, he adds his thumb to her clit, circling it mercilessly.Â
âOne more, come on. This is what you wanted, isnât it? To cum?âÂ
Through her tears and scratchy voice, she warbles, âW-wantâ wanted you t-to fuck meâŚâÂ
He only laughs at her, and it sends such a blow to your psyche.Â
âDid you really think I would?âÂ
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.Â
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.Â
Thatâs a habit he has, youâve noticed. Or maybe just a signature thing. No matter what, when heâs done with his scene partner, he gives their pussy one final lick. As if heâs sealing the deal. Something theyâll feel long after the cameras stop rolling, along with the ache of their inner walls.Â
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.Â
You come back to the forms after a cold shower and a half an hour long pacing session in your living room.Â
With a somewhat clearer head, you decide to take it one question at a time.Â
At first glance, you canât help but feel like youâre filling out the forms youâd normally get in a doctorâs 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.Â
Thereâs a checklist of kinks, each one with a box to check if any are âhard noâsâ or âhard yessesâfor you. You gotta hand it to Afterdark, theyâre very thorough. At the very top, just above this checklist, you notice two more boxes simply labelled âRoughâ and âGentleâ.Â
Ah.Â
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 heâs 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. Theyâve tailored their own experience with him. That makes you feel a bit better actually, gives you more of a sense of control. Youâre not just walking into this with no say in what he does to you, nor will you be blindsided. Actually, youâll have a pretty good idea, and no worries that heâll do something youâre uncomfortable with.Â
The empty boxes still taunt you. Which version of him do you want?Â
After much consideration, you eventually let fate decide. You pick both options. Rough and gentle. Letâs see what he does with that.Â
Moving on, forcing yourself to breathe slower, you continue down the list of kinks. Again, itâs very thorough, even asking for locations that youâd be okay filming in. You check off âhard noâ on most, if not all of the âbodily fluidsâ section of the kink list. All except creampies, crying, and squirting. You wonder if heâll be able to make you do that. If so, you donât want to discourage him from it. Youâre 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 âyesâ to aftercare. Aftercare is a non-negotiable for you. One of your exes never did that for you, and itâs been a dealbreaker ever since you got out of that relationship. You dislike feeling used after-the-fact. Discarded. Itâs an ugly shock to your system, one that youâd like to avoid if possible.Â
Double checking everything on this page, you go to the third and final page.Â
In the top half, thereâs an interactive calendar so you can input dates and times when youâre free to do the shoot. Youâre pretty much free all the time, if youâre being honest. You just have a family wedding to go to in late August, two months from now. Though youâd 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 âavailableâ.Â
In the bottom half of the page, thereâs just one last question, accompanied by a text box: âTell us about yourself, and what we can do to better tailor this experience for you.âÂ
You have to admit, you werenât expecting this kind of question to come up. They want to know about you? Tailor this opportunity for you?Â
Huh.Â
Your mind goes blank at first. What could they possibly want to know? What are they actually looking for? Thereâs really no telling.Â
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 âN/Aâ. But your inner professional tells you to answer it. You search yourself, wondering if thereâs anything that would make you feel a little more comfortable while there. You assume theyâll provide a robe for you, or something to cover you up when youâre not filming, but youâve also heard how âfucking coldâ porn sets are kept. Not exactly wanting to show up with a blanket from home, you decide thatâll be your one request.Â
âIf itâs not too much to ask, Iâd like a blanket while on set. Thank you! :)âÂ
You double â triple â check each form page, making sure you didnât accidentally check something off or type in your information wrong. After you confirm that everything is accurate and spelled correctly, you click on the âsubmitâ button. A âthank youâ screen pops up, and you quickly exit the tab, not wanting to think about it anymore. Itâs out of your hands now.Â
But speaking of the hands itâs now in, you have to set up a meeting time with this Kim Hongjoong guy. Â
Right. Okay, onto the next step.Â
In a new email, you type out all the dates and times youâre free â you may have made yourself sound busier than you actually are â and send it off to him. Glad to have everything done, you flop back against your pillows and groan. You replay all the images youâve seen. All the things heâs done to multiple women.Â
Itâs the next day that ends up being the meeting day.Â
You opt for a virtual meeting, reasoning that itâll 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.Â
You do your makeup and hair, wanting to look presentable. Itâs the shirt that gives you a headache. Youâre 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 itâs summer and hot in your apartment in the afternoons. Youâve been meaning to figure out how the air conditioning works. Itâs hi-tech in a way that truly baffles you. Youâll get Yeosang to figure it out the next time he comes over.Â
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.Â
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 havenât 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.Â
Thereâs 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 âend callâ at a momentâs notice. When his camera finally loads, you breathe a little easier. Heâs in an office based on context clues of what you can see around him, and heâs 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.Â
âMiss Y/N! Itâs so nice to talk with you today, how are you?âÂ
âIâm doing well, thank you. Are you the one Iâve been emailing?â You ask when he doesnât introduce himself by name. You just want to clarify.Â
He laughs to break any awkward tension, âYes, thatâs me. My apologies, Iâm Sanâs agent, Kim Hongjoong.â
âOkay, good.â 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. Heâs 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.Â
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. Itâs 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, thatâs for sure.Â
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 itâs time to actually start talking about the collab. You fix your earring for no real reason, just to give yourself something to do. Â
âSo, Iâve received the forms you completed â thank you for doing that, by the way â and I was wondering if you have any questions for me about them?âÂ
You pause before you answer. Nowâs the time to ask, and with the right person, too. Humming to fill the silence, you think about a good question to ask first.Â
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 doesnât 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.Â
âI guess Iâve been wondering about⌠like⌠if I check off certain boxes will we do all of that? OrâŚ?âÂ
Very eloquent.Â
Luckily, he doesnât seem to think anything of it. âOh, 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. Itâs just to see what youâre comfortable with and to see which direction you want this collab to go.âÂ
That makes sense. And now that you think about it, what if someone puts a âhard yesâ next to something that San would check off as a âhard noâ, obviously they wouldnât do it. Itâs a mutual agreement. They find the things that match between you two and take it from there.Â
âActually,â Hongjoong says with a small grin, still scrolling through the forms on his computer. âYou two are pretty similar. It wasnât hard to match up.âÂ
You hear it but your brain doesnât process what it means yet.Â
âOh, really?â You say, not knowing how else to respond.Â
Hongjoong just hums, nodding once. He pushes his glasses up again before turning back to you.Â
âRegardless 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 donât show up at all, we canât really do anything to pay you. We have this in place because we donât want you to feel trapped once the scene starts. Does that make sense?âÂ
You nod quickly, âYes, it does.âÂ
âPerfect,â he says. âSo, with your schedule that you sent me, if youâre okay with it, we can set the date relatively soon. Is this coming Friday, at six oâclock alright?âÂ
Friday. As in⌠Friday, two days from now, Friday? Your mouth dries instantly. Two days from now. Is he not busy? You assumed this wouldnât 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.Â
And yet you hear yourself say, âFridayâs good for me!âÂ
Well, now it has to be whether youâre ready or not. Your hands itch for your phone, needing to text Yeosang immediately, even though you know heâll 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.Â
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 itâs done.Â
âOkay, perfect. Iâve got you booked for six oâclock this Friday. If you could email me where youâd like our driver to pick you up, thatâd be great. Otherwise, do you have any other questions, comments, or concerns for me?âÂ
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.Â
Fuck, okay. Sure, why not?Â
âOh, umââ you suddenly remember one thing he hasnât mentioned at all. âIs there a script? Like, do I need to know any lines beforeâŚ?âÂ
Hongjoong answers right away, âAh, this shoot will be unscripted. Itâll feel more natural that way.âÂ
More natural. Your heart feels like a brick in your chest. To be honest though, youâre 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. Thatâs the experience youâll be getting.Â
âOkay, cool,â you reply, desperately needing another drink of water for your dry mouth. âThank you.âÂ
Hongjoong smiles politely. âNo problem. Alright, well if everything sounds good, weâll see you on Friday! Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.â
We.Â
Again, heâs probably just talking about the company, but Yeosangâs words from yesterday are stuck in your head. Your secret delusions and Yeosangâs smart mouth are never a good mix.Â
âSee you Friday! Thank you.â You reply politely, the very picture of calmness and professionalism. Â
And once the call disconnects, youâre slamming your laptop shut and calling Yeosang to tell him everything.  Â
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, itâs definitely time for him to be awake now.Â
As expected, once you rattle off every detail of the call you were just on, Yeosang laughs his ass off.Â
âOh man,â he says with an audible sigh, âyouâre fucked.â     Â
Part of you wishes that the driver will somehow get hopelessly lost on the way to the set.Â
Youâre sure heâs been there multiple times before, but you pray for a random dose of amnesia anyway. Itâs not that youâre second-guessing the decision â not at all â you just werenât expecting the day to come so soon. Itâs 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. Itâs 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.Â
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 mustâve 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 heâll see you later to drive you home.
Then, youâre 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 â8â button once in the elevator car.Â
As soon as the doors shut, the silence and gravity of what youâre 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, Yeosangâs custom text ringtone startles you. Glad to distract yourself, you immediately read the text. Â
[yeoyeođť]: donât let him intimidate you, youâre the one he wanted for thisÂ
[yeoyeođť]: remember heâs literally just some guy and youâll be fineÂ
[yeoyeođť]: youâre gonna be great :) Â Â Â
You canât help but smile, and you roll your shoulders back to stand taller. Heâs 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.Â
When the elevator doors open on the eighth floor, someone is already waiting for you on the other side.Â
Hongjoong.Â
You donât realize until this moment how relieved you are to see a somewhat familiar face.Â
âMiss Y/N,â he greets, extending his hand out for you to shake, âitâs so nice to meet you in person.âÂ
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.Â
âOh, umâŚno, not at the moment, thank you.âÂ
âOf course,â he nods once. âIf you do need something at any time, please let one of us know.âÂ
You assume that âone of usâ probably means the team of people youâre about to meet and be fucked in front of. Forcing another deep breath, you manage another easy smile and thank him again.Â
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.Â
Hongjoong leads you down a long hallway, deeper into the Afterdark floorplan. Youâre 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.Â
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.Â
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 canât hear.Â
âNo, thatâs alright,â he says quietly, âI think heâs good without her right now, but double check for me, please.âÂ
You keep your eyes on the floor, pretending that you didnât hear anything, but your mind races. Who is âsheâ, 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.Â
While the two of you walk, youâre rather relieved that no one is staring at you as you go by. Youâre just another actress to them, and right now, thatâs okay with you. And luckily, the path Hongjoong is taking you on is relatively close to the perimeter of the set, so youâre 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 itâs 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. Thereâs 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 youâre left alone.Â
âThis is all yours for the day,â Hongjoong says, âsomeone will come around in a minute to help with hair and makeup, and then weâll start.â
You nod, swallowing down as much of your anxiety as possible.Â
âWill you, umââ you ask before you can stop yourself. Hongjoong pauses before he heads out, waiting expectantly for you to finish your question. âAre you gonna be on set the whole time?âÂ
His expression changes into something akin to surprise. Obviously, he wasnât expecting you to ask anything about himself. He doesnât answer straight away, taking a moment to try and understand why youâre asking that. You can almost see the professional within him piecing together a corporate response in real time.
âWe 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?âÂ
You wave your hand, trying to brush everything off. âNo, I was just wondering. Nevermind. Thank you!âÂ
Hongjoong looks like heâs about to say something, but ultimately leaves you alone, gently closing the door behind him.Â
As soon as it clicks shut, youâre moving to sit on the couch, ready to call Yeosang, but you stop yourself at the last minute. Youâre acting crazy, you do realize that. And you have a sneaking suspicion heâll tell you the exact same thing.Â
Instead, to satiate your need to call him, you reread his last three texts of encouragement.Â
Lock in. Remember who the hell you are. Now.Â
You put on some ego-boosting music so youâre 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.Â
No panties anywhere in sight. No bra, either. Total and easy access.Â
Your lower stomach starts to heat up, already envisioning how San might go about undressing you. From what youâve seen, rarely does he let girls undress themselves. No, he wants to be the one to do it. Like heâs unwrapping a present, just for him. Â
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. Youâre almost positive that if you look in the vanity drawer, youâll find snacks as well. Maybe you can get used to this. But youâll wait to give your final verdict after the job you came here to do is done. Itâs best to wait.Â
Youâre only waiting for a minute or two before thereâs 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 â Youngmi, you think is the makeup artist, and Rina, the hair stylist â 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 itâs all in good fun.Â
By the time theyâre done, you no longer feel like the scared outsider that doesnât look the part. They made you even more beautiful.Â
There she is, you think as you admire yourself in the mirror.Â
You sigh in relief, feeling much more confident than before. And not only that, you feel ready. Itâs 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 â or, in your skirt. You had kicked your shoes off next to the couch.Â
You make sure to thank Youngmi and Rina before they bring you out, not knowing if youâll have a chance once youâre 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 youâll be⌠âperformingâ.Â
As youâre walking and looking around, you start to wonder if San makes it a point to surround himself with equally beautiful people. Or maybe itâs a company requirement.Â
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 isnât anywhere to be found at the moment. Heâs probably with his talent right now.Â
When youâre introduced to the director, you almost say something about it. Everyone in this room is attractive. Conventionally, unconventionally, and everything in between.Â
âHello Ms. Y/L/N, Iâm Choi Jongho, Iâll be directing you two today.â He introduces himself, bowing politely and shaking your hand.Â
You bow your head and reply, âHi, itâs nice to meet you.âÂ
He offers you a chair to sit in while everyone waits for San to come out, and you take it gratefully. You donât know how long heâll 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 youâre supposed to give it to someone or take it with you onto the set.Â
âWould you like anything to drink, Ms. Y/L/N?â The director asks, noticing that you donât have anything with you ready for any breaks.Â
Director Choi only refers to you as âMs. Y/L/N.â Very professional, cordial even. Makes you feel like more than an object his star is about to fuck on screen. Youâre being treated with real respect, which is a pleasant surprise in comparison to what you had expected from the porn industry.Â
You look around yourself, only just now realizing you didnât take one of those mini water bottles from your dressing room like you originally planned.Â
âA water, pleaseââ you start to say. As soon as the last syllable of âwaterâ is spoken, an assistant hands you one. You didnât even see him standing next to you, much less holding a bottle. Then again, you arenât really paying attention to whether or not people are carrying water bottles or not right now. Damn. Â Â
You try to warm up your arms by rubbing them, now that youâre 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 didnât even have to say anything.Â
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. Youâre so used to doing everything yourself, this type of treatment makes you feel⌠stuck up â and every fiber of your being screams at you to make sure none of the staff think that of you.Â
âSan will be out in just a moment,â 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. Itâs 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.Â
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.Â
The air shifts just moments later.
Itâs 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 whatâs going on. Though, in your heart you know exactly what it is without needing to look â itâs the arrival of the main attraction.Â
From where you are, leaned back in your chair, you canât see him too well. Heâs 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.Â
Hongjoong stays at the back of it all, looking down at his phone as he walks.Â
The team finally disperses one by one, revealing more of Choi San to your eyes.Â
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. Itâs even more pronounced in real life. Youâre not entirely sure how to greet him, or what heâs used to. But you remember Yeosangâs encouragement again: Heâs just a guy. Donât let him intimidate you. Youâre gonna be great.Â
Heâs just a guy. Youâve dealt with those before. Itâs 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.Â
You stand up, smoothing down your skirt and standing still, hands clasped in front of you.Â
âHey Jongho, sorry weâre late,â Hongjoong calls over, pocketing his phone. He side-eyes San, who bows his head in apology as he walks. Â
The director waves him off, clearly used to his tardiness and the apologies that follow. âItâs alright,â he says, âyouâre actually earlier than we thought youâd be.â  Â
âWe need to go over the rules with her,â San says once heâs 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 donât 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.Â
Director Choi nods and grabs a clipboard from his own directorâs chair. You nervously roll your ankle, hearing it crack quietly in the interim. Â
âRight, 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,â At this, Director Choi looks up at you. âThird rule is health and safety, but Hongjoong said you covered that with him, and when you sent in the form,â Again, his eyes flick up from the clipboard to glance at you. âFourth is to be respectful at all times â thereâs no room for ego here. And lastly, donât look at the camera unless told to, otherwise keep the illusion.âÂ
You go over each rule in your head before you forget. Consent, confidentiality, feel safe, be respectful, and donât 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.Â
âFollow these, and weâll have a great shoot day. We should be ready to go in just a few minutes.â 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.Â
Youâre 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. Â
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. Donât be intimidated. At the end of the day, youâre both here to do the same job, and both of you are successful in your own rights. Heâs just a man, you remind yourself again.Â
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. Itâs much easier to be confident and independent on your own turf, but here on his, itâs more of a challenge. Still, you stand your ground. You have to if heâs going to keep sizing you up. He has been since he walked out here. Â
âYou didnât cum,â he says matter-of-factly.Â
âŚÂ
Pardon? Did you hear him right? What an odd opening line to say to someone youâre meeting for the first time.Â
Your lips part and eyebrows furrow, rather startled. âIâm sorry?âÂ
Thereâs no way you heard him correctly. Â
âYour last liveshow,â he shrugs. âAm I right?âÂ
Well⌠yes, butâ how didâ?Â
Is this how he starts all of his conversations? With a personal accusation?Â
âThatâs alright. We all do it sometimes,â he shrugs again. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear and lowers his voice. âYouâre not gonna fake it with me, though,â he says, and the terrifying thing is that he sounds genuine. Itâs not unfounded cockiness or meaningless bravado. He means what he says in all seriousness. He says it like you shouldnât worry about it. Like itâs a promise.Â
And you exhibit monumental self-control to not clench your thighs together at this moment.Â
Your mind races at a million miles a minute. That, you didnât expect. Isnât that all that porn is? Fake, overblown orgasms for the girls and endless, guaranteed pleasure regardless for the men? Youâre starting to think that this may not be the case with him. You think about the videos you watched as part of your âresearchâ, 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 theyâve cum with their scene partner. But with him, now you know: all of the girls werenât 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 heâll 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 heâs relentless, and he seems to like getting up in peopleâs space. A mischievous glint in his eye tells you that heâs enjoying this particular encounter especially. Heâs definitely the type of guy that finds it fun to make girls flustered or nervous.Â
You swallow hard.Â
âYou sound rather confident,â you note, still trying your best to hold eye contact with him. To not back down or seem weak. Youâre sure itâs not working. You just refuse to melt all over him, or suck up to him. Especially not when heâs the one who asked you here. Â
Surprisingly, he smirks. âShouldnât I be? Iâve done my research, I know you probably have done yours as well.âÂ
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.Â
âDoes that make you nervous, kitten?â He whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side like heâs about to kiss you. He could if he just leaned forward a couple more inches.Â
A little, you admit to yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest like itâs 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. Youâre 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.Â
âNo,â you lie, âIâm fine.â Arms crossed. Eyes up.Â
San laughs lightly, and his smile instantly becomes the most attractive thing about him so far, even if itâs at your own expense.Â
âIf you say so,â he shrugs again.Â
He doesnât 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.Â
âSo, youâre a fan of mine?âÂ
At that, he pauses. But, he doesnât shy away from it.Â
âYeah,â he says, owning up to it immediately. He straightens back up as you nod, taking in the information. âHave been for a while now. I saw that other collab you did with that guy, it was really fuckinâ hot.âÂ
You make a mental note to let Yeosang know he was right about that, as well. To be honest, you werenât expecting the compliment. Â
âIâmâ glad you liked it,â you say, clearing your throat in the middle of the sentence. Youâre doing pretty well on the outside despite your nervousness beginning to rise again on the inside. San studies you once more, like heâs 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.Â
âMm⌠youâre even prettier in real life,â he says, so casually it almost doesnât register.Â
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.Â
The final few minutes begin to tick down. Â
You donât 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.Â
âAny final advice or warnings for me before we start?â You ask, keeping your voice casual and light. Itâs a subtle dig to him, but you mean no malice behind the words. Fortunately, he picks up on it.Â
âOh, tons,â he grins, keeping pace with you onto the set. Itâs almost easy to forget the cameras. Â
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, youâre pretty impressed. Itâs a pretty realistic bedroom setting, complete with shelves decorated with trinkets and records, but vague enough to have no specific personality. Nobodyâs 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.Â
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.Â
San sits on the edge of the bed. âYou get used to it,â he says, nodding towards the lights.Â
You nod as well, placing a hand above your heart, willing it to stop racing.Â
Noticing this, San takes your hand and guides you to sit down next to him. You do feel a bit better now that youâre 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 heâs facing you.Â
âNervous?â He asks rhetorically, knowing full well that you are. Heâs still holding your hand, playing with each of your fingers one by one.Â
âObvious?â You reply, managing to laugh at yourself, despite your nerves.Â
San grins, his eyes turning into crescents, and that dimple in his cheek reappearing. âOnly a little bit. But, Iâve seen worse.âÂ
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. Thatâs the version of you he invited.Â
Whereâs Britney when you need her? Â
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 youâve seen and the information youâve gathered, your hairâs gonna be plenty messed up anyway.Â
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.Â
But less distractions means you notice the man right next to you even more.Â
You can feel Sanâs eyes on you.Â
Itâs 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. Youâd 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. Heâs not looking at anyone else but you. Not just looking, but admiring.Â
His gaze drifts down, greedily drinking in the sight of your collarbone and legs â the only skin youâre revealing at the moment. If the crew would just hurry up, heâll be able to see more.Â
Fortunately, heâs never been one to wait to get what he wants. Especially not in this industry. And right now, he wants you.Â
âI meant it, by the way,â he says quietly, âyouâre beautiful.âÂ
Without any water to choke on, or an interruption from the director, you simply look up at him, finally meeting his eyes. Thereâs 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.Â
âThank you⌠youâre quite beautiful yourself.â You compliment him back, shifting how youâre sitting to face him as well.Â
By now, your knee is touching his. Even this small amount of contact between you makes your shoulders tense again. Youâre not sure why, but you just want to melt into him already. Perhaps due to the undeniable attraction you feel towards him.Â
Maybe itâs the insane sexual tension between you both, that very well could be the root cause as well.Â
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 âcutâ, youâre more than willing to match that energy.
His hand moves from yours to rest on your thigh, slowly, like heâs silently asking for permission to continue. When you donât 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. Itâs already dizzying enough to have him in such close proximity, and now adding in the electricity of his touch, itâs a whole other level. And this, you assume, is just the warmup. Getting you used to the feeling of his hands on you. Itâs nice that it doesnât feel wrong.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âDonât look at the camera, kitten,â San purrs, âI believe that was rule number five.âÂ
âOh, shut up,â you mumble without any real bite to your words.Â
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.Â
San never looks anywhere else, entirely focused on you. It doesn't matter to him that thereâs about twenty people still in the same room, all witnessing this âwarm-upâ unfold. It barely fazes him. Heâs experienced in this setting, way more used to it than you are. You just have to roll with it.Â
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.Â
âWhatâs got you this wet already, kitten?âÂ
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 canât see very well because of the lights and the various equipment in the way, but several of the crew and team are.Â
San smirks, pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your clit. âYou like the attention?â He asks, following your gaze. âItâs different from your little camshow isnât it? Now the audience is only a few feet awayâŚâÂ
His fingers begin to move in small circles, occasionally dipping further down to collect your wetness before bringing it back up to your clit.Â
âSanââ you breathe, catching his wrist in a semi-firm grip. Not to move it away, but just to hold onto something. Jesus, the shoot hasnât even officially started yet, but youâre about to beg them to hurry up so it can.Â
San just moves closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in your cute expression. His voice is quieter, so only you can hear him. âAlready thought about all the ways Iâm gonna make this pretty cunt cum for me. âM gonna make you feel so good.âÂ
Another promise.Â
A shiver runs down your spine, and thatâs the moment the crew decides that theyâre ready to shoot.Â
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. Â
Director Choi walks up to you both for final notes. âAlright, no script so weâre 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?â He looks over to you.Â
You nod quickly, unable to meet his eye right now. The back of your hand lifts to your cheek to check how hot itâs gotten â as if you need additional confirmation. You hope you didnât smudge your makeup or wipe some of it off by accident, but you imagine that if it shows up on camera, theyâll stop to fix it.Â
âOkay, then weâre ready to go.âÂ
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 isnât much different to a camshow, really.Â
And arenât you here for your fans anyway? Sure, you also wanted the opportunity and experience, but itâs also for your fans. The ones who supported you enough to even get noticed by Afterdark and San in the first place. You imagine theyâll make up at least half of the view count whenever this video drops. Youâre performing for them. Not for the strangers in the room.Â
Once that clicks for you, all your anxiety melts away, freeing you to finally just⌠enjoy this. Why not? You deserve it.Â
Plus, youâre quite eager to pick up right where you and San left off just moments ago â and it seems that San is too.Â
His gaze becomes heavier, darker as he shifts into his on-screen persona.Â
âCâmere, kitten, want you on my lap to start.â He says, moving back on the bed a little more and gently pulling you towards him.Â
You straddle his legs, slow to sit down fully. Now slightly above and closer than before, you canât 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 heâs in how wet you are. Equally though, you can feel how hard heâs getting.Â
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.Â
âItâs just you and me,â he says quietly, breath fanning across your cheek.Â
You nod, eyes fluttering closed again as you grind into him once more. âOkayâŚâÂ
Through your pleasurable hazy fog, you faintly hear someone yell, âAction!â.Â
And San stops holding back.Â
The hand on your hip pushes you back and pulls you in, encouraging you to keep grinding on him â 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.Â
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.Â
San tilts your chin up to kiss your neck, hiding his face from the camera. âNever answered my question,â he whispers, barely audible so his voice doesnât get picked up by any of the overhead microphones.Â
You disguise your response as a moan, âHm?âÂ
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.Â
Ah.Â
His question from mere minutes ago: Whatâs got you this wet already?Â
âSo wet for me,â he murmurs, a bit louder. Itâs alright if the microphones pick that up. âWonder whyâŚâÂ
Itâs the knowing smirk that does it. You move to undress him first, intriguing him. He didnât 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.Â
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 youâre next.Â
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 canât blame your reaction entirely on the temperature.Â
San must notice how your shoulders hunch a little and how you press further into him, because he is quick to warm you up.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
Now fully exposed, San pauses.Â
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 heâs 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.Â
He catches both of your wrists, bringing your hands together to kiss them both before guiding them down above your head.Â
âKeep them here,â he murmurs, kissing you once more.Â
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 doesnât 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.Â
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 heâs about to do are clear, but heâs a professional at driving his partners crazy. The kisses turn to licks, right next to your labia. So tantalizingly close.Â
If your eyes were open, youâd see that heâs been watching you the entire time, trying to pace himself as best he can. Youâre actually lucky thereâs a job to do here because if it was just the two of you alone, he doesnât think heâd be holding himself back from just taking what he wants.Â
To him, this is all just a chance for him to prove himself to you. To him, youâre the star. And heâs going to make sure you leave this set more than satisfied. Wanting for nothing.Â
But heâs not going to start until you beg him to.Â
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.Â
âThought I told you to keep your hands up there, kitten,â he reminds you, with a slight warning edge to his voice.Â
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.Â
âBe a good girl and keep them above your head,â he repeats his previous order.Â
You nod quickly, âIâm sorryââ 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.Â
When he repeats the action, the tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, making you see stars already.Â
âOh my godâŚâ you moan, eyes fluttering shut again.Â
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 âFantasyâ video keeps you frozen.Â
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 heâs moaning while he eats you out, like the taste of you is getting him off. You hope he lets you return the favor.Â
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 canât help the high-pitched sound that escapes your mouth. He does it again, and again, getting you louder each time.Â
âLook at me, baby,â he breathes, his nose brushing up against your sensitive clit as he speaks.Â
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, itâs clear that youâre close. Now youâll get to see what he has planned for you. The two boxes you checked off, âRoughâ, and âGentleâ come back to haunt you.Â
A moan cuts you off as you try to warn him that youâre close, but he can tell without needing to hear you say it. Heâs 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.Â
His voice is rough and gravelly against your pussy, âCum for me, baby. Wanna taste it.âÂ
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. Heâs 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 youâre okay to continue.Â
You answer that check by sitting up and pulling him towards you, kissing him even more hungrily than before. He hasnât even wiped his mouth yet, but you donât 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 donât know if youâre 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.Â
For now, you just roll your hips up into his, moaning into his mouth.Â
âWant itâŚwant you,â you mumble, parting from his lips for just a second to tell him that.Â
San hums, lazily kissing your jaw. âWhat do you want, kitten? Be specific.âÂ
You groan inwardly, but you know he has to prolong this a little. Damn⌠for a while, you forgot about the reason youâre 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 heâs quick to act.Â
âTell me,â 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.Â
You take a deep breath before you voice what you want, âWanna suck your cock⌠please, sir.âÂ
Itâs the âsirâ that nearly kills him. You really have done your research, havenât you? You know thatâs 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.Â
And who is he to deny you? Especially when you ask so nicely. Plus, heâs been wanting to feel your mouth wrap around his cock since he watched your livestream.Â
âYeah?â He asks, biting the space where your neck meets your shoulder and pressing up against you again.Â
You give him your best doe-eyed look, really tapping into your innocent act. âYes, sir.âÂ
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. Itâs a little hard to get the zipper down, but you manage it, successfully removing his pants. Youâre 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. Itâs 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 cameraâs.Â
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.Â
Somehow, itâs bigger than it looks on camera.Â
You have no idea how thatâs possible â you know about the fish eye lenses and tricks the porn industry will use to make someoneâs dick look bigger than it is, but right now, youâre presented with the exact opposite. Itâs larger in real life. This, you were not expecting, but it is such a pleasant and welcome surprise. And of course, itâs just as pretty as the rest of him. Â
Both of these things combined only make you want to put your mouth on it even more.Â
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.Â
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 youâre about to put him in your mouth, only to move away, kissing his hipbone next and stroking him with your hand.Â
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.Â
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 thatâs 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.Â
If you were annoyed with his apparent perfection before, youâre pissed now. How does he also taste good too?Â
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.Â
âFuck, babyâŚso good,â He groans, starting to struggle to keep his eyes open.Â
The visual of you choking on his cock is better than he couldâve ever imagined it to be. You donât 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 youâre gagging and your eyes are watering, you donât 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.Â
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. Itâs 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. Heâs 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.Â
Whatever he wants.Â
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 heâll cum in your mouth. A rare hope, as youâve never quite enjoyed the taste of it before, but with his track record so far, youâre willing to bet youâll 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.Â
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 youâre able to stop yourself before you can even move an inch. Itâs probably one of the crew leaving the set, you figure. But it sounds close by.Â
As if to prove you right, soon thereâs 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 doesnât 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. Youâll get a damn brace if you need to.Â
âGodââ he grunts, looking down at your hand.Â
âWant you to cum too,â you say, looking up at him, almost pleading.Â
Sanâs eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, a full body shudder wracking through him before he is able to compose himself again.Â
âAnd where do you want me to cum, kitten?â He asks, his volume raising slightly, caressing your cheek.Â
âIn my mouth, sir.â You reply, also loud enough for the microphones to pick up.Â
He all but shoves you down. You barely have time to make sure your teeth arenât 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. Youâre able to keep up easily, sucking harder whenever youâre closer to the head of it, and using your tongue as much as you can.Â
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. Heâd be so mean to you if youâd let him. He wouldnât have kept himself down your throat for ten measly seconds, it wouldâve been until you tried to push yourself off, desperate to breathe again. That wouldâve been heavenly, to feel your throat constrict around his cock, in search of air. But not for the first scene together.Â
If thereâs a next time, maybe thatâs when heâll let go just a little more. Show that side of him and see how you cope with it. For now though, heâs content to just enjoy the sight of you taking him in your mouth, wanting to make him cum. And youâre damn near close to achieving that.Â
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.Â
âFuck⌠ah, fuck, Iâm gonna cum⌠mmfââ San moans, head tilting back against the chair.Â
You donât change anything about what youâre doing, just continuing until finally, he releases into your mouth. Just like you wanted him to. And itâs 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 wonât until you suck him dry, until he pushes you off from overstimulation. Maybe subconsciously, itâs because you know he loves to overstimulate his scene partners â 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.Â
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.Â
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 canât help but be a little surprised. Youâve never gotten wet from sucking dick before. If he finds out, itâll go right to his ego, no doubt.Â
But before he can, thereâs 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 whatâs happening, looking back up at San for help.Â
âWeâre breaking for a second,â he explains, still out of breath.Â
Ah.Â
âAre you alright?â You ask him, without thinking. Youâre not even sure why you asked that.Â
San blinks, processing your question as well before nodding once, âYeah⌠yeah, Iâm good.âÂ
Thereâs a fleeting moment between you that you canât describe. Something deeper than the scene now that youâre out of it. Itâs the way heâs looking at you, void of any facade or persona meant for the cameras. Almost like heâs curious about something.Â
No one ever really asks him if heâs alright.Â
Just as quickly as the moment appears, itâs 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. Â
âYou okay?â San asks as well, eyebrows furrowing in what appears to be genuine concern.Â
ââM okay⌠honest.â You nod as you speak to emphasize that youâre 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.Â
Opening your eyes again, you accidentally make eye contact directly to his cock, still right in front of your face. Itâs laying against his stomach, still slightly twitching, but⌠not softening. At least not as much as youâd expect it to. Surely, he canât still be hard after coming. However, at this point, you wouldnât 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.Â
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 â 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 â the one that had handed you the blanket earlier â 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.Â
Director Choi calls over Youngmi and Rina, and theyâre 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.Â
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 havenât 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. Sheâs 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. Itâs obvious what sheâs there for. You wonder if sheâs been watching the whole time as well.Â
But San is quick to rid you of any worries.Â
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 wonât 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. Â
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 wonât have it. His other hand cups your cheek, making sure you donât try to look anywhere but at him right now.Â
ââM still hard for you, kitten,â he says quietly, just for you. He moves closer, his thumb running over your bottom lip. âMade me feel so fucking good⌠doing so wellâŚâÂ
You canât help but blush at his praise. Heâs so attentive, itâs a little shocking. You expected him to be, due to the videos you watched, but off-camera as well?Â
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.Â
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.Â
âSorry, sir,â you whisper, grinning mischievously now that youâre the one teasing him. Â
San laughs once, breathy and short.Â
âYou really have done your research on me, huh?â 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.Â
You shrug, playing it cool. âWanted to see what I was getting myself into,â the corners of your mouth twitch as you slowly stroke his cock, watching for his reactions.Â
âAndââ he clears his throat before continuing, âwhat do you think so far?âÂ
Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and youâre taken aback again by his genuineness. Heâs 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. Â
âWell⌠Iâm still wet for you,â you admit, casting your eyes down towards your lap. âBut I think Iâll give you a final verdict later.â Â
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.    Â
âDeal,â he whispers, slowly leaning in to kiss you.Â
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.Â
As soon as his robe comes off, he tosses it in the cameraâs 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.Â
You shiver, finally underneath him once more. The promise of whatâs 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.Â
Well, he wonât make you wait any longer.Â
And just in time too, because someone over on the left shouts, âAction!â. You feel kind of bad for stressing out the crew this much, but you canât dwell on those guilty feelings when San is rubbing your clit again.
âFuck⌠pleaseâŚâ you whimper, hips grinding up in search of something else. Â
San moans, working himself up as he feels your pussy slicking all over his knee. Â
âAre they gonna stop us again?â You ask, whispering in his ear.Â
âThey better fucking not,â San breathes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up, spreading your legs further apart so he can kneel between them.Â
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 heâll stretch you out, and knowing that you probably wonât last too long with his size. Hopefully, you wonât cum as soon as he bottoms out.Â
San presses the tip to your hole, and you hold your breath. Itâs so big, but youâre ready. Youâre 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.Â
And much to your despair, he doesnât 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 canât help but whine pathetically.Â
San hums, mocking you. âHm? Whatâs wrong, kitten?âÂ
âPlease fuck me already,â you exhale, whimpering at yet another tap of his cock against your clit.Â
âLouder,â he instructs, not just to make you beg for it again, but also so the microphones pick it up. Youâd forgotten all about them again, to be honest. âAsk me properly.âÂ
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 itâs there. But itâs 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.Â
âPlease, sir, please fuck me. Want it so baââÂ
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. Heâs just barely halfway in, and your brain already feels like mush.Â
Maybe itâs 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 canât look towards him, even by accident.
San swears under his breath, watching his cock disappearing into you as well.Â
âSo fucking tight⌠god, babyâŚâ he grunts, adjusting his knees slightly closer to your ass so he can feed you more of his length.Â
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.Â
Then he shoves the rest of his cock inside.Â
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 itâs going to feel so overwhelmingly good.Â
The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Youâre close to coming already.Â
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. Thereâs no hiding it anymore.Â
Amused, San leans down, pushing your legs back even more, deepening the stretch. He groans as your pussy contracts around him tight, wanting more.Â
âWhat, kitten? Already?â 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.Â
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.Â
âMm, thatâs it,â he says, twisting his wrist so he can rub your clit with two fingers instead. âLet me feel it.âÂ
Youâre 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.Â
Unlike last time, he gives you no recovery period. The second he sees your eyes refocus, heâs fucking into you again. Like he never stopped. Your hands grip his shoulders, knowing youâre 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.Â
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, youâre not entirely sure yourself.Â
Thereâs no energy behind your actions, but San still subtly checks in. âFeel good, kitten?âÂ
You choke on another moan, his cock getting dangerously close to hitting your g-spot. âMm- Iâmâ good, feels s-so good.âÂ
âYeah? You liked coming on my cock?âÂ
âYesâŚâÂ
âYes, what?â San punctuates his question by ramming into you hard, unexpectedly.Â
Youâre quick to correct yourself, âY-yes, sir!â
âThere you go,â he brushes some hair away from your face, âmy good girl.âÂ
Your body melts at the praise, replaying it over and over again as the feeling builds up higher and higher. You donât 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 youâve hurt him unknowingly.Â
But he puts them right back where they were.Â
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. Itâs getting to be more of a challenge to breathe normally like this.
Especially as your third orgasm begins to crest.Â
ââM comingââ you warn him, but he knows already. He can feel it.Â
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 donât disappoint him the third time either.Â
Youâre 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 youâre desperate to chase it. Luckily, San knows exactly what you need.Â
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.Â
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 youâve never felt before. You grab his wrist, looking up at him with slight fear in your eyes, but he doesnât seem concerned. Heâs determined, if anything.Â
âGood girl,â he purrs, so affectionately it makes your brain melt.Â
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.Â
âGonna make a mess for me, kitten? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock again?âÂ
You donât 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. Itâs a feeling of release unlike any other that youâve felt before, much harder than any orgasm youâve 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 âroughâ youâll be getting from him: overstimulation. Making you cum until you beg him to stop.Â
San growls at the sight. It burns into his brain, and he can already say for certain that heâll be jerking off to the memory of this later tonight and for days to come.Â
Just to prolong it, he taps his heavy cock against your pussy and clit again, enjoying how you try to squirm away from it.Â
Youâre so wet, itâs 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.Â
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. Â
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.Â
Thankfully, sensing your dilemma â and hearing you whine for it â he doesnât 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 itâs so the camera can see your fucked out, dazed expression.Â
His cock slips back inside of you easily, without any resistance, and the two of you groan in unison. In both relief and pleasure. Â
That familiar, faint voice comes back. Clearer this time, and closer as well. âSan⌠San! Weâre taking another break now.âÂ
San kisses your shoulder blade, barely paying attention. âOkay, have fun,â he brushes the voice off, impatiently.Â
Youâd laugh if you had any coherent thoughts or spare energy left. No, youâre a bit preoccupied at the moment, your body trembling around his cock, and so happy that heâs pushed back into you. Truthfully, you donât even care if youâre stressing out the crew anymore. All of your thoughts are about San.Â
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. Â
âI know, kitten, itâs okay. Just relax.â
Easier said than done.Â
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 youâre 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. Â
Sanâs 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 youâre making, and you know youâll 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.Â
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 â twice in a row without a break â 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.Â
Your back arches even more, hips grinding back against his to get more of him somehow.Â
Such a little natural.    Â
âMmm, there you go. Thatâs it. Keep fucking yourself on my cock, pretty girl.âÂ
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.Â
âFuck,â you whimper, a couple of stray tears threatening to fall. âYouâre s-so fucking deep.âÂ
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 doesnât even give you any time to process the stinging pain heâs left behind before thereâs a new one on the back of your head.Â
Slightly dizzy, it takes you a second to realize youâre 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 canât 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. Youâre a fighter, he can tell.Â
âDoing so well,â he whispers in your ear, âsuch a good girl for me, baby. Knew you would be. Knew Iâd get this pussy to fall apart on my dick. Thought about it so fucking muchâŚâ
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.Â
All you hear is his praise. Youâre doing well. Good enough for him, like you were so stressed about being. Nothing else matters to you anymore, now that youâve earned his approval. A proud smile creeps across your face, and he grins at the faraway look in your half-lidded eyes. Youâre so far gone. Completely pleasure-drunk. Â
The hand in your hair tightens again and loosens, like itâs 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.Â
He doesnât 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.  Â
Heâs so fucking deep. Impossibly, almost.Â
He may just make you cum like this, without even needing to touch your clit. Heâs making you learn so much about what your body can do when in the right hands. No wonder people are so obsessed with him. Heâs 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 couldâve made you cum like that as well, but he tailors himself for each girl. Adapts for them. For you.Â
And heâs learning you pretty well. Probably read you like a fucking book.Â
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 canât help it, though. Not when it feels this good. Certainly not when another orgasm is building, more rapidly than the others.Â
You squirm under him, toes curling and nails digging into the mattress.Â
âIâ mmfâ! Youâre⌠youâre gonna make me cum again,â you have to speak quickly before it hits you.Â
San leans over you, hands planted right next to your shoulders, fucking you harder. âGive it to me, pretty girl. I want every fucking drop.âÂ
Someone dressed in all black stands right in front of you, pointing something towards you. It doesnât register that itâs the camera guy with the handheld camera for a couple seconds. You imagine heâs 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 wonât let up on you once you do⌠again.Â
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 mustâve been loud because your throat feels scratchy and rough all of a sudden, but your head is in such a rush that you donât even hear anything.Â
San holds you by your throat now, making you keep your face up.Â
Just as you predicted, San doesnât stop or slow his pace whatsoever. True to his promise that heâs âgonna make you feel so goodâ. Well, that promise is currently turning you into a limp, fucked out mess. Youâve never had this many orgasms so quick in succession before. Itâs making your hormones go absolutely wild, and you cry harder, wetting Sanâs hand with your tears. The camera loves it.Â
There are some sounds near you that you canât be bothered to discern, and you just lean into Sanâs 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, youâre not entirely sure how many more times you can cum without passing out. You hope heâll stop before that happens. You donât want to embarrass yourself like that.Â
San subtly taps your throat, getting your attention, before raising your head a little higher by the throat.Â
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 youâre being. Tears sting your eyes, both from exertion and from the intense pleasure San is giving you.Â
âPussyâs so good⌠so tight and wet⌠could fuck you forever.âÂ
Director Choi silently motions for San to keep talking like that.Â
San grunts, fighting to catch his breath enough to speak again. âSuch a good girl⌠gonna make you cum again.âÂ
And he does.Â
Before you even realize that itâs been simmering and building, it knocks into you sideways. This time, you canât even scream. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out due to your body locking up. San releases your throat, worried that youâre not breathing â and heâs 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.Â
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.Â
Itâs somehow both torture and a relief. You feel so fucking full, but he isnât doing anything to continue the dull flames that engulf your lower stomach, and yet you know itâs better than being empty. He could pull out, leave you to deal with that emptiness before you felt ready. He doesnât. Appreciative thoughts swirl around your head and you cry harder, trying to hide your tears in the sheets.Â
When the camera crew and director see that heâs not continuing, they call for another break. Everyone moves away, and thereâs no longer a black cloud in front of you.Â
San doesnât move an inch, though. Â
He brushes through your hair with his fingers, comforting you. Heâs intent on waiting until you calm down, not wanting to push you too far before youâre 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.Â
But youâre addicted yourself. A real glutton for the pleasure heâs 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.Â
âI know, baby. Just relax with me for a moment.âÂ
You pout, another tear roaming down your cheek. Deep down, you know heâs right. Your body has been pleading for a break two orgasms ago. Itâs 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 Sanâs fingers running through your hair.Â
Itâs a nice moment. Â
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 itâs stopped swimming. Little by little, your energy comes back.Â
You take a deep inhale, sighing contently as you exhale it back out. Looking behind you again, you catch him already watching you.Â
âHi,â you mumble, half-smiling.
San smirks, his hand cupping your cheek. âHey, pretty girl. Feel okay?âÂ
You nod, humming, and you subtly push back against him. The feeling of his cock pressing into you doesnât shock your body as much as it did before. Now itâs a welcome, familiar feeling. Sought after. You really are addicted. Maybe even insatiable when it comes to how well he fucks you.Â
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 donât bother wondering where he got it from. You have a pretty good idea. Theyâre always everywhere during a break.Â
Once youâre 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.Â
You push back again, trying to get him to move. You hear him chuckle behind you.Â
âGreedy little thing, arenât you?âÂ
Instead of contradicting his statement, you just nod. Why lie?Â
âWanna make you cum too,âÂ
San hums, just barely rolling his hips into yours. âHow do you wanna do that, kitten?âÂ
You steel yourself for what youâre 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.Â
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 donât 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.Â
Youâll fix that gladly.Â
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the crew start to come back to their spots â 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.Â
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 donât give him much time to adjust before you start moving.Â
You swear you hear him whimper. Just once, but you catch it nevertheless.Â
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.Â
You kiss him back just as eagerly, increasing your pace. Your thighs already start to protest from the strain, but you canât bring yourself to care or stop. Not when heâs 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
Itâs a battle to try and ignore your own pleasure, building up for a fifth time. Youâre not convinced you can cum again. However, now youâre willing to see what happens. If you faint, you faint.Â
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.Â
âSo fucking good,â he hisses, âsuch a good girl⌠gonna make me cum so hard.âÂ
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.Â
âWant you to cum inside me,â you beg him, hot breath hitting his neck. You feel him shudder underneath you.Â
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.Â
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.Â
He lets out a choked moan, cutting it off by kissing you one more time before his eyes shut tight.Â
âGonna cumâŚfuck, Iâm gonna cum so deep inside you, kitten. Gonna feel me for days.âÂ
You whine at his words, and he seems to have worked himself up further by saying it as well.Â
âPlease, sir, need your cum inside of me. Please give it to meââÂ
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.Â
He pounds into you without any more room for mercy, concentrating on coming again. And he can feel that youâre close again too.Â
âCum with me,â he pants against your neck, âgive me one more. Let me feel your pretty cunt cum on my cock one more time, baby.â         Â
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.Â
As if that all wasnât enough, San spits on his fingers and starts to rub your clit again.Â
Everything adds up to push you over the edge.Â
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.Â
And your climax triggers his.
True to his word, he comes deep inside of you, filling you up until itâs 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. Youâre definitely not used to coming this much.Â
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.Â
Unbeknownst to you, heâs never cum that hard before. Years of experience behind him, sure, heâs gotten close to this level, but never was able to reach it until now.Â
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.Â
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 âthank youâ. You whimper, legs closing when he pulls away.Â
âCut! Print it.âÂ
And heâs gone.Â
You feel you just got a violent slap back into reality.Â
WhatâŚjust happened? You slowly push yourself up, with admittedly great difficulty.Â
Half of the staff flutter around you, while the others flock to Sanâs side, covering him up in his robe and starting to lead him towards his dressing room. The production assistants assigned to you donât 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. Itâs all over just like that.Â
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 âactorâ. 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 Sanâs dressing room door. Your eyes threaten to tear up, a dull yet powerful feeling of rejection blooming in your chest.Â
Maybe you arenât 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 Sanâs belt.Â
Director Choi suddenly appears in front of you, and youâre quick to act like nothing is wrong. âYou did great,â he says, âthank you for your time today.âÂ
You manage a fake smile and thank him as well, apologizing for any issues you may have caused by being impatient or loud.Â
He simply waves it off, âHappens more than you think. Have a good rest of your night, Miss Y/L/N. Maybe weâll work together again in the future.âÂ
âMaybeâ.Â
His words stick to you, gnawing at your skin like leeches. He truly didnât 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.Â
You imagine going back home and going live again. The notorious four exclusive viewers will want to know how it went, and youâre going to have to tell them something. You doubt youâll be able to lie. Woo will probably be able to tell somethingâs wrong.Â
Maybe, once this check hits, you can just disappear for the foreseeable future. If youâre astronomically lucky, everyone will forget it happened so you wonât have to relive the very tail end of it. You run a hand through your hair. Youâre 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 canât say you really blame him, though â that is his job. San should be his priority.Â
Itâs just that you desperately wish for a friendly face, or someone to genuinely check in with you. Comfort you.Â
Not to be surrounded by strangers who wonât look you in the eye. Â
You donât even know if heâs 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 theyâll have to delete.Â
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.Â
Gathering up all the courage imaginable, your hand raises in a fist, and you softly knock on the door three times.Â
To be honest, youâre not really expecting a response. Half of the staff are gone already, itâs unlikely that heâd 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 itâs already nearing nine oâclock. 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.   Â
Distracted, you jump about a mile in the air when the door opens, revealing San, now also dressed and looking like heâs ready to leave. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the sight of you.Â
âHey,â he says, so casually. âWhatâre you still doing here?âÂ
Embarrassment hits you like a brick wall. Yep, just another girl on the callsheet that stuck around to beg him for more. Ugh.Â
âIâm sorry, I donât want to bother you,â you say, already giving up on the whole idea of confronting him. Britney canât help you now.Â
You start to turn on your heel, but he opens the door wider, stepping aside as if to invite you in. âNo, no. Not bothering me. Whatâs up?âÂ
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 isnât. Itâs 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.Â
Still⌠you and Yeosang arenât dating, and after your collab with him, he redressed you and cuddled you for an hour straight. He made sure you knew he wasnât going anywhere, that the friendship is still intact. You werenât being used.Â
You hesitate to step into his dressing room, and ultimately decide to just stay put. Stand your ground. You donât want to take too long, you just need an answer.Â
Out with it.Â
âI was just wondering why you left so quickly? Did I do something to offend you in any way?â Â
San blinks, slight confusion clouding his face. âOh, no, I justâ I saw your form. Didnât want to hang around and make you uncomfortable.âÂ
Now you stare at him, just as confused. âWait, what? What about my form?âÂ
âYou checked off âHard Noâ to aftercare.â Â
âŚPardon?Â
No way.Â
He must see the bewilderment in your face because he fishes his phone out of his pocket to show you.Â
âYeah, Hongjoong saidâŚâ he trails off, the light of his phone screen reflecting in his dark brown eyes. âYeah, look.âÂ
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 âHard Noâ for aftercare. Luckily, you didnât select one of the bodily fluid options as a âHard Yesâ in your evident past confusion. You bury your face in your hands.Â
âOh my god. That was meant to be a âHard Yesâ.â 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. Youâre going to have to do some serious damage control to get Yeosang to not hate him forever. Itâll surely start with a screenshot of the form you fucked up, followed by a dramatic statement of your stupidity.Â
San pockets his phone again, almost sheepish. He hesitantly steps closer to you, unsure of how to fix this.Â
âIâm so sorry,â he says quietly, âI shouldâve double checked with you.âÂ
âNo, no, please donât blame yourself when itâs my own mistake.âÂ
âStillâŚâ he trails off, looking down at the floor.Â
It hits you that heâs really hurt by this. Hurt for you.Â
âSanâŚâ you tilt your head to try and meet his eye. âItâs alright, really. I feel much better now that I know it wasnât on purpose or because I did something wrong.âÂ
âIâd never do that to you, or anybody. I always stress how important aftercare is to the directors I work with so they donât try to rush through it.â 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.Â
Damn, he really is nice. Here you were at the start of this, thinking heâd 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 isnât used to make anyone feel small, thatâs the important difference. Itâs confidence, more than anything.Â
âI know,â you smile, trying to make him feel better. âReally, itâs okay.âÂ
He seems unconvinced. âCan I make it up to you in some way?âÂ
You shift your weight from one foot to the other. If you wouldnât immediately cringe at yourself for doing so, youâd 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 itâs something you were so against, and he respected it anyway, is more than enough.Â
âYou donât have to, San.âÂ
âI want to, Y/N.âÂ
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.Â
âCan I walk you out?âÂ
That, youâll allow.Â
âSure. Are you going home?â You ask, changing the subject as the two of you start walking towards the exit doors.Â
âNah, not yet. Thereâs a gym on this floor Iâm gonna go to first.âÂ
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. Itâs highly doubtful that youâll wake up before three in the afternoon. Truthfully, you canât wait. Maybe youâll sleep off some of the soreness youâre sure to have tomorrow.Â
âOh, by the way, do you have an agent?â San asks you out of nowhere, right before you get to the doors.Â
You blink once. Twice, processing. âNoâŚ?âÂ
Yeosangâs the only one who may even come close. Heâs the one you ask before doing anything, wanting his opinion and blessing. But technically and professionally, no, youâre an independent artist as far as youâre concerned.Â
âIâd find one soon,â San says, glancing towards the bed, soaked through. âYouâre about to get a lot of offers.âÂ
You blush furiously, reminded of everything that transpired between you barely an hour ago. âMaybe I should just take yours.âÂ
San groans, âHonestly, do it. Iâm sure Joong could use a break from my bullshit.âÂ
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.Â
âMaybe I will let you have him,â he says, a smirk growing across his face. âItâs good manners.âÂ
He looks at you like he knows something you donât, and it bothers you. The word choice sounds familiar, but you canât 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.Â
âGoodnight, baby.â 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.Â
Fuckinâ hellâŚÂ
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. âMannersâ. It bugs you so much, you know you heard something about it recently, but canât pinpoint where or when.Â
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 youâre ready to be picked up downstairs and taken home. From down the hallway, you hear the door to the studio swing open again â 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.Â
But the footsteps that follow the sound of the door closing are what gives you pause. Theyâre hurried, and headed towards the lobby. The elevator dings behind you. You turn around just as the mystery runner comes around the corner.Â
âOh! Hi, Mr. Kimââ Â
Hongjoong jogs over to you, catching you before the elevator doors open.Â
âSorry if I startled you. San is wondering if we can arrange another collab, but this time on your livestream.â He speaks quickly, like time is of the essence. Â
You stutter, brain trying to connect with your vocal cords.Â
âWhat?â You ask, even though you heard and processed everything Hongjoong said just fine. Youâre just wondering if you actually heard him right. Today just keeps getting stranger and stranger. More interesting, definitely.Â
Heâs quick to repeat himself, almost pleading with his eyes for you to say âyesâ.Â
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.Â
You canât help it. You want to make him chase you again.Â
âTell him Iâll think about it,â you say as sweetly as possible, stepping into the elevator.Â
You try not to enjoy the perplexed look on Hongjoongâs face until the doors close completely.Â
Everything in his world is immediate. Youâre not used to it whatsoever.Â
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 canât help but gawk at the sight of it.Â
How the hell did he find your address?Â
Ohâ Hongjoong, probably. Your initial creeped-out feeling vanishes. Hongjoong can just find anything for San, youâre sure.Â
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 canât help but smile â he really did want to make it up to you.Â
You pluck the small card from the flowers and read it, sitting down at your kitchen island.Â
Hope you had a good time today.Â
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.Â
Perhaps you missed a hidden clause in the forms that makes you promise to not fall in love with him.Â
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sadness, anger, happiness, that boy sure knows how to make your senses tingle, and itâs been that way since you were introduced as the final member of ateez. the only girl of ateez. you sure do have a favorite, donât you?
idol!wooyoung x idol!fem!reader, 9th member reader, members/best friends to potential lovers?, 18+, unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, semi public sex? (theyâre in a dressing room), mr. and mrs. giggleshits, set during work era â> adrenaline era, a little awk, dirty talk, breeding kink ?, pet names (baby, slut, good girl, etc.), cheating, breakup, slight comfort, reader is dating jaehyun (nct), smut with plot, angst, fluff, mmm i think thatâs about it
ââ wc. 8.5k
ââ omg this is my first ever post on here and it turned out to be waaaay longer than i had intended, honestly. iâve had this idea in my head for a while and knew nobody else was gonna do it so i had to take matters into my own hands. iâd like to mention that this is NOT proofread. if you see any typos pls lmk !! i really hope u enjoy it, byeeeee >á´<
inhale.
exhale.
everything is fine, youâre okay. itâs not like youâre about to walk into a room full of people youâve never met before or anything. oh! and even better, youâll be with them for the rest of your life. how perfect. itâs not a huge change, i mean, youâve been working for this since you were what, sixteen? or was it fifteen? hell, who knows? all you know is youâre an eighteen year old girl ready to change her life forever.
âcome in!â that pulls you out of it. the rough voice coming from the other side of the frosted glass door has just enough power to make your hand rest on the handle.
you want this. you need this.
one more inhale, another exhale. you push the door open and immediate chaos floods all five of your senses.
boys. eight boys are seen on the couch in the corner of the room, some goofing off with one another and some staying to themselves.
loud, itâs so loud in here, why? oh, that might be due to the four boys practically screaming over each other as they argue about whatever the fuck the current topic is.
cologne. it reeks of testosterone in here. woody, fresh, warm, musky. wait, it kind of smells really good. not important.
oh god, here comes the cotton mouth. your mouth tastes bitter and your whole body has run cold, or hot. are you sweating? fuck if you know. you reach up to touch your forehead. no, yeah, definitely sweating. why are you so cold? oh no, no, no.
consider your world completely and utterly fucking. rocked.
boys? why would i ever want to be surrounded by boys all day, every day?
i thought i would be with a group of girls.
they didnât specify this in the papers.
god, please save me, tell me this is a dream. i canât live a life like this. iâm gonna pass out. there is entirely too much going on in this room. is the room spinning?
you exhausted all of the possibilities in your head long before opening the door. but this? this was not one of them.
one of the eight boys looks up at you. he has sharp features. asymmetrical eyes, you clock that almost immediately as they pierce through you. heâs clad in a red bape and ape hoodie and black adidas sweatpants. brown hair, tanned skin, big, perfect nose. he nods towards you and goes right back to his phone. the smirk on his face certainly not going unnoticed by you.
you know what? okay, yeah.
âwooyoung, please, not right now,â you breathe out. you guys have just wrapped up practice for your latest comeback; work. and boy, oh boy, are you fucking working.
âpleaseeeee,â he begs, âitâll only take a minute.â
âokay, then you can wait for just a minute,â you pant. keep in mind, currently laying on the floor here. dropped dead. limbs numb. sweating from your scalp to your little piggies. what does wooyoung want? glad you asked! tiktok. he wants to make a fucking tiktok fresh after practice. âhow do you have the energy to even want to make a tiktok right now, dude?â
âum, because the choreo isnât as draining as youâre making it seem? and even then, youâve been stumbling over your feet all day,â he sits next to you on the floor, holding himself up with his arms as he cocks his head at you. at this point, the rest of the boys have exited the room for water, food, or their beds.
you chew on the inside of your cheek as you figure out what to say. honestly? you havenât eaten in two days, certain parts of the choreo arenât sticking with you like they usually would, youâre distracted, dissociated, not all there with the rest of the world. your boyfriend is currently on tour, and youâve had this gut wrenching feeling eating away at you ever since he left. i love you baby, you know that, right? he had said. weird, but also, not weird? you say you love each other every time youâre going to be separated for a while, so why did it feel different this time?
âhello?â wooyoungs fingers snap in front of your face, âare you still with me, darling?â you blink.
âdid you just snap at me?â
âwell, yes.â
a moment of silence.
you spring forward and drag him onto the floor with you, punching his sides, âdo. you. want. to. die?â you grunt between punches as he laughs, pleading with you. after a moment you both sit up, âiâm fine, wooyoung, donât worry. i do have to go to my dorm though, so, have fun!â you squeak as you jump up onto your feet, almost losing your balance.
wooyoungs face scrunches up, âwhat are you in such a rush for? gotta call your boytoy?â
âheâs my boyfriend, not boytoy. get it right. but since youâre so curious, no, actually, iâm just ready to strip naked and wash my ass.â
âyeah whatever, didnât need to know all that,â itâs silent as he watches you pack up your belongings from the floor. his feet wiggle in place, fighting the urge to help you pack up. he can hear it now, i am an independent woman, why the fuck would i need you to do that for me? he chuckles to himself before noticing a bruise on the back of your arm, immediately perking up, âwhat happened there?â
âhuh?â you turn to look at him, then to the back of your arm where he was gesturing, âoh, mingi happened. i slammed into him earlier, remember? turns out heâs made of stone instead of skin and bones.â
âah, right. make sure you take care of that.â
your eyebrows furrow as you chuckle and turn to face him again, âitâs a bruise wooyoung, not a stab wound. itâll take care of itself.â
âstill, donât put pressure on it when you sleep tonight,â he states as he finally gets up and makes his way towards the door with you, âit could make it worse, or something.â he shrugs.
âsir yes sir, dr. jung,â you salute as you turn to walk your separate ways. wooyoung slings his already-packed-bag over his shoulder and watches you turn the corridor. with a sigh, he turns and makes his way over to his dorm.
perk number one of being the only girl in ateez: you get your own dorm. it gives you a break from boys in your fully furnished, cozy, warm, space. now, yunho and yeosangs dorm? a literal cardboard box. you couldnât be paid enough to live in that.
you let out a sigh upon entering your dorm, sliding off your shoes and into your slippers. dropping your bag and keys off at the door, you beeline to your room and rip your drawers open.
underwear, shirt, what else, what else⌠oh!
you throw the clothes on your king sized bed, moving towards your vanity where you keep your self care. you snatch your favorite scents off the shelves and toss them on the bed with your clothes. itâs go time, baby.
the bathroom is humid and smells like the gingerbread man drowned in the tub, just how you like it. bubbles are engulfing your body, music is playing on the speaker beside you, youâve got your wine glass in your hand, vanilla candle lit. what else could you possibly need?
âŚ
why did your music stop..?
ring ring ring
your eyes snap open. you have got to be kidding me.
the growl that escapes your throat is beastly, leaning over the wall of the bathtub to grab your phone.
incoming call: my baby <3
the smile that appears on your face is bright enough to light millions of galaxies. of course, you answer with much enthusiasm. âhi baby! i miss you so much. howâs tour?â
âi miss you too, whatâre you doing?â okay fuck me and my question then. from the looks of it, heâs laying in his hotel bed. all you can see is the top of his head though, strange?
âiâm taking a nice relaxing bath, soaking in the peace while i have some. todayâs practice was so tiring.â
âmm,â he groans out. itâs silent for a beat before he speaks again, âfuck- i miss you, baby,â he sounds breathless.
um. âi miss you too⌠are you feeling okay?â your eyebrows furrow with concern. his camera moved down a bit more, you can see his whole face now. his eyes are closed, his bottom lip squeezed between his teeth, eyebrows pinched together. it seems he has no shirt on also, which is pretty normal for him.
ây-yeah, iâm just tired,â his eyes open to look at you now, droopy.
âoh- well, iâll let you go then. get some rest, okay?â
âalright. b-bye,â he stutters. right before he hangs up the phone, yes, he hangs up, you hear a moan. well, no not a moan. a groan? squeak? whatever the fuck it was, it didnât come from him. it was high pitched, feminine.
the fuck?
your thumbs move faster than your brain.
you: what the fuck was that?
12:28am
you: hello?
12:46am
you: jaehyun r u srs
you: did u fall asleep
1:13am
you: annyeonghaseyo what the fuck ????
now here you are, laying in your bed. restless, stressed, sad. you have pretty damn good ears, thereâs no chance that they could be deceiving you right now. itâs been almost two hours since he hung up and you bolted out of the bathroom. you donât understand, everything was fine before he left. what couldâve happened within the span of a few days?
you didnât get a wink of sleep. maybe an hour â no, thatâs a reach. you slept for thirty minutes before your alarm clock began screaming at you to wake up. ten seconds later, here comes the banging on the door.
âwhat, literally what?â you yelled as you stomped towards the door, swinging it open harshly.
âoh- good morning to you, too,â wooyoung waves before pushing past you and into your living room. âyou look like shit, by the way.â
youâre surprised your eyes didnât get stuck in the back of your head with the force you rolled them with. âwe donât have practice for another three hours wooyoung, why are you here?â
âiâm here to chill and eat your snacks beforehand, duh. call it practice pregame,â he says matter-of-factly.
âthe whole point of me having my own dorm was so that none of you could be in here with me. get out,â you deadpanned as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
âwell thatâs kind of hard to avoid, iâm only a building away. plus, san, mingi, and seonghwa literally live a door down.â
âyeah, a door down, not in my guest bedroom.â
wooyoung scoffs and turns his body away from the tv, really watching you now, âwhatâs up with you today? youâre awfully snappyâ
you place your glass on the island counter and stare at him for second. heâs serious, isnât he? âgee, i donât know, maybe because i only got thirty minutes of sleep before i was woken up by a psychotic alarm clock at seven in the fucking morning! then an even more psychotic manâwho is currently sitting on my couch, barged into my home, chose to bother me on a morning that wouldnât have been any better anyways but at least i wouldnât have to worry about being disturbed by youââ you ramble, your hands flailing all over the place as you go on and on.
wooyoung? he listens. he could tell something has been bothering you these past few days, he knows itâs best for you to let it all out now than later. in the midst of your breakdown he rises from the couch and moves to sit across from where you stand instead.
âi tried to have a relaxing night last night before my fucking boyfriend called meââ
âi thought you were excited to talk to him?â
âoh, just you fucking wait. so, he ended up calling me while i was in the bath. when i answered he sounded very⌠tired? i guess, i have no idea anymore. iâm so fucking confused,â you hold your head in your hands as you recall what happened last night, âhe fucking called me, okay? i knew something was off when i answered and the only thing i could see was his stupid fucking forehead for the first two minutes.â
âtwo minutes? but thââ
âit was a short conversation,â you cut wooyoung off, holding your hand up, âi tried to talk to him about my day, you know, normal couple things. told him about practice, all that good shit. whatâd he say? mm. fucking mm?!â you exclaimed, âand it didnât even sound like an mm of acknowledgement, it sounded horny as fuck! he was all likeâmm fuck, baby i miss you, like, get out of my face.â
wooyoung rolled his eyes, not at youânever at you, but at what he was hearing. he was simply distraught at the fact that anyone could be so vague and passive with you, one of the most charismatic people he knows. although he canât blame him if he was in fact horny.
âthatâs not even it, wooyoung. he starts⌠moaning? groaning? i donât know, he sounded out of breath and like he was trying to hold stuff in. eventually, the camera moved down. i donât think he meant for it to though. he was biting his lip and shit, it looked freaky as hell, and trust me, i know his sex faces.â
wooyoung grimaces at the thought of you doing the deed with someone, âalright maybe i didnât need to know that.â retract previous statement. he can blame him.
âno you definitely did, itâs crucial to the plot. anyways, i asked him if he felt okay, to which he replied y-yeah, iâm just tired,â you mocked him in your âman voiceâ, âi told him to just get some restânow keep in mind, he called me, okay? right before he hung up i heard a weird noise. i donât wanna say it was a woman, but it sounded very feminine.â
âwhat the fuck?â
âyeah, what the fuck. i texted him for an hour straight last night, still no response to this very moment,â you sigh, now looking down at your glass of water. âi donât want to accuse him of cheating but like,â you look back up at wooyoung, âive had this gut feeling something bad was happening behind my back ever since he left for tour. thatâs why ive been acting strange, and i know i shouldnât have held it in but i just-â you sigh.
wooyoung is absolutely fuming, even if he didnât show it. he is a man after all, he understands exactly what is going onâgranted heâd never participate in such devious activities if he had a parter, especially not if he had someone like you. he walked around the counter and engulfed you in his arms. your body began to tremble, finally releasing all the pent up emotions youâve been holding on to.
âiâm sorry i was mean,â your muffled voice fills his ears.
âitâs okay honey, iâd be mean too if i were you,â he pulled back to look at your face. your had tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked up at him. it tore him into pieces to see you like this. his hands reached up to wipe your face, âgo get cleaned up, weâre going out.â
you frown, âout where?â
âout,â he shoves you towards your room, âgo.â
âooh look at this,â san chirps as he poses with the girliest purse youâve ever seen. wooyoung decided to gather almost everyone to go out and shop together after your breakdown? rant? rant. you donât have breakdowns over men. either way, itâs definitely cheering you up.
âwait, what about this one?â mingi walks up behind you with a more sleek purse. oh, here comes seonghwa strutting down with wooyoung hand-in-hand, holding matching coach bags. you canât help but laugh at how ridiculous they look.
âso if i say i love them all you guys will buy them for me?â you lift your eyebrow with a smirk on your face.
âyes,â they say in unison.
chuckling and shaking your head, âguys you donât have to do this, iâm seriously fine with just walking around. you donât have to shove all these things in my face and beg to buy them for me,â wooyoung looks at you with a knowing look, cocking his head to the side. he can always tell when youâre bluffing, âokay fine, sugar baby me.â
and sugar baby you they sure fucking did. the boys walk in tandem with you back to your dorm, all of their arms covered with bags of things they bought you. you know when that one kid in school walked down the hallway and you just knew they were coming because of their keychains? yeah, thatâs basically them but with shopping bags right now.
âfuck, why did you let me do this,â seonghwa pants as you guys exit the elevator.
âyou wouldnât leave me alone, donât complain now,â you shrug as you unlock your door and let them in. the bags are immediately dropped to the floor, grunts and groans of relief coming from the men. âyou guys are dramatic. heyâdonât break my shit!â
âanything you say, girly. now letâs go, we have to be at practice in thirty minutes. hongjoong will kill us if weâre late⌠again.â san says.
you giggle as they walk ahead of you and out of your dorm. as youâre locking your door you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, frowning, you pull it out.
oh.
jaehyun.
you begrudgingly put the phone to your ear, âyes, jaehyun?â wooyoung turns to look at you at the mention of his name, a concerned look on his face. you shake your head at him and motion for him to go ahead, which he reluctantly obeys.
âhey baby, how are you?â
âuh, iâm good. could be better, actually. whatâs up?â you begin walking a few feet behind the boys, closer to wooyoung than the rest of them. of course, he purposefully walked slower than the rest to pick up on your conversation. call him nosy, shame him for eavesdropping, he couldnât care less.
âoh, um- i was just wondering. what happened last night?â
your heart stopped for a moment. heâs serious?
âwhat do you mean?â
âwell i saw i had called you last night but i donât remember it at all, haha,â haha. âi drank with the guys so i was pretty drunk.â
âoh, i see⌠were you too drunk to answer my texts as well or was that because you were busy doing something elseâor should i sayâsomeone else?â your irritation is evident in your voice at this point. the other side of the line does quiet for a beat too long, so you take the initiative, âyou know what, jaehyun? until you manage to use all the brain power you have left to tell me exactly what you were doing last night; donât message me, donât call me, donât even think of me. got it?â
âwait- baby, i-â
beep beep beep.
shut up.
you rolled your eyes and tucked your phone back into your pocket. the peace was nice for the two hours it lasted.
âget out. my. face.â sans voice booms through the practice room as he calls out the phrases that helps you all remember the choreo. today is the last day of practice, which is very stressful for you this time around. usuallly youâd have every movement nailed down by now, but youâre falling behind.
you keep fucking bumping into mingi during the stupid ass line formation you have to do. youâre sweating, your clothes are sticking to your body, hair falling out of your ponytail, bruises beginning to form from your countless failures.
âtake 5 guys,â hongjoong calls out as he exits the room.
âare you doing okay?â jongho crouched down beside where youâre sprawled out on the floor.
âoh my fucking lord, yes, iâm fucking peachy. i am perfectly fine. why is everyone asking me this? actually, no, you know what, jongho? no, iâm not fucking okay because iâm pretty sure my boyfriend is cheating on me with some random bitch while iâm here stuck in this muggy practice room and failing at everything i do. is that a better answer for you guys? iâm not okay,â is what you wish you could scream out at the top of your lungs. unfortunately, what you say is, âiâm okay jjong, thank you,â donât forget to top it off with a smile and nod!
thankfully, he drops it, deciding to not push you further. unlike someone, whatâs his name?
âyeah right, whatâd that asshole have to say to you earlier?â wooyoung plops himself on the ground on your other side. oh right, wooyoung.
âwouldnât you like to know.â
âyeah i would, thatâs kind of why i asked,â he shoves your shoulder, âcome on, tell me. i promise i wont hunt him down, even though i should,â he murmurs the last part.
âwhat was that?â he shakes his head and motions for you to speak, sigh. âhe basically just told me he didnât remember anything from last night.â
âmm, and whatâd you say?â
âyou know what i said wooyoung, i know you were listening.â
âwell tell me again, it was kind of hot,â he smirks, that makes you roll your eyes as you laugh.
hongjoong comes back and everything is set in motion once again, you swear that five minute break felt more like five seconds. after two more hours the work day has ended, youâre back in your bed, and suddenly itâs almost a month later. you pulled countless all-nighters practicing the choreography by yourself, pushing your body to its limit. jaehyun? not a word from him, and thatâs perfectly fine with you. the music video released a few days ago, and now itâs s performance day. you have bigger things to worry about.
to say youâre nervous is an understatement. the anxiety of repeating the same mistakes you had worked so hard to fix comes creeping up your neck, sending shivers down your spine. or was it the hand thatâsnow laying against your lower back that did that?
âyou ready, popstar?â wooyoung whispers into your ear from behind. you canât see him, but you can feel him. hear him, smell him. itâs overwhelming to say the least, but also provides you a sense of comfort. you turn your head to the side and smile at him with a nod.
you all get into position in the stage, waiting patiently for the music to start, fans are cheering.whatâs going through your head, you wonder?
anytime nowâŚ
oh! that scared me, oh my itâs really loud.
these lights are blinding meâŚ
donât mess up, donât fuck it up. waitâyes, fuck it up. fuck it up so good, girl.
get out. my. face.
please donât bump into him, please donât bump into him.
oh thank fuck. thank you, lord.
okay jongho sing itttt.
voice please donât crack, itâs my turn.
gotta make that money makeâ
itâs nothing but heavy breathing and stripping of clothing once you get backstage. you had been itching to get this heavy ass jacket off your frame for over an hour now, the relief of shredding it from your body an overwhelming sensation.
âyou did so good, im so proud of you.â wooyoung jogs towards you and squeezes you so tight you can barely breathe.
âthank you, youngie, but iâm really sweaty and i kinda canât breathe⌠move. please.â he pulls away with a breathless smile.
âyou ready to do it all over again in two days?â he winks at you, the guttural groan you let out probably echoed down the halls. âiâll take that as a no,â he laughs.
later that night after youâve returned home and showered, you hear a knock at your door. who the fuck? you open the door to see none other than jung fucking wooyoung standing there in his full pajama set.
a giggle escapes your lip as you quirk a brow at him, âand what do you think youâre doing?â
âuh, sleepover?â he says, or asks, itâs hard to tell which one it was. once you see the container of brownies in his hands though? it was an immediate yes anyway. he cooks you dinner, you serve him wine, it all felt very domestic but also⌠just friendly? there was no tension, nothing dramatic. it was almost as if he were one of your girlfriends. you gossiped, laughed, watched movies, things that youâd do with your best friend.
while you guys are in the middle of watching the second hunger games movie, thereâs another knock at the door.
âdid you invite san or yeosang over?â you question, to which he shakes his head just as confused as you are. you get up and go open the door, freezing in place once you see whoâs behind your door.
jaehyun.
all you can do is stare at him through the crack of the door, all the emotions you had forgotten about a month ago suddenly crashing down on you.
âwho is it?â you hear wooyoung shout from the couch. nobody answered him.
âhey,â jaehyun started. no.
âdonât,â you hold your hand up, âare you fucking kidding me right now?â
âlook, i know i messed upââ
âmessed up? messed up?! we havenât spoken in a fucking month, jaehyun!â you snatch your phone from the pocket of your pajama pants and open the messages between you guys, â12:28am, what the fuck was that? 12:46am, hello? jaehyun are you serious? did you fall asleep? 1:13am, hello, what the fuck?â your eyes are open so wide theyâre damn near bulging out of your head. behind you, wooyoung creeps up around the corner.
âbaby, please just let me in so we can talkââ
âabout what? about fucking what, jaehyun? have you finally remembered what happened that night or what?â silence. âwell, iâm waiting. what happened? please, do tell.â
silence, again. fine.
âi thought you were on tour, why are you here?â
âi- i am- i was i- iâm back just for the week. i-â he sighs, searching for the words he wants to say, âi- i cheated on you,â he said under his breath as he looked at his feet.
âhm? what?â
âi fucking cheated! okay? are you happy now? i cheated on you!â
your five senses have been infiltrated once again.
blurry. everything is blurry, you canât see who youâre talking to anymore. nothing is clear, youâve spent two years of your life with this man. the man you thought you would marry, the man who wrote songs about you, the man who was your first everything.
your ears are ringing, what did he say? you knew it, you had a feeling deep down inside. but for him to just flat out scream it out like it means nothing? like you mean nothing?
you can smell the alcohol on his breath as he speaks to you. oh, heâs been drinking. again. go figure.
just seeing him leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.
tears. red, hot, angry tears are streaming down your face. you feel your hands touch your face, are you moving your arms? you canât feel them. everything feels numb, youâre numb.
ây-you need to go,â you whimper, looking right through him as more and more tears cascade down your cheeks.
âjagiya, i-â
âdonât,â you feel a hand on the small of your back. your lip starts quivering, you start breathing faster, youâre panicking. you donât understand anything thatâs going on right now. âyou heard her, you need to go,â he doesnât. âleave before i fucking make you leave, and trust me, you donât want that.â wooyoung threatens, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden outburst. his hand rubs circles against your spine.
jaehyun looks between the two of you, then at the floor, ultimately deciding to leave the premise. your numb hand slowly moves to shut the door, and all you can do is stare at it. you feel your body slide down the door as your sobs finally break free.
you knew it.
you fucking knew it.
why were you in denial for so long? why did you allow this to happen to yourself? this is all your fault, if you knew, then why didnât you end it before now? do you still love him? were you hoping that it wasnât true? god, it wouldâve been much better if you were just making thing up in your head.
you sob, and you sob even more. wooyoung drops down next to you and pulls you into his arms. âwhatâs wrong with me?â you cry out.
ânothing is wrong with you, honey. nothing at all, okay?â he hears his chin on top of your head as he rubs your back, âhe has no idea what he just lost. youâre the smartest, most amazing, beautiful, kind, courageous person i know. youâll find the one whoâs best for you.â
âpromise?â you whimper.
wooyoungs heart is torn. all he wants in this moment is for you to be okay, happy, and in his arms. âi promise, i really do.â
itâs been a long time since that night. a really long time, actually. youâve had three comebacks since then and are currently working on your fourth; golden hour: part 4. now sitting in the studio, wooyoung and yourself are bundled up on the couch together scrolling on pinterest.
âiâll do it if you do it,â he smiles and turns his head to look at you, showing you a picture of cherry red hair.
âyou want me to dye my hair red?â he nods. âyouâre not gonna chicken out last second and have me running around like strawberry shortcake, will you?â wooyoung damn near dies. why? because itâs you. it wasnât nearly half as funny as he made it out to be, but you just tickle him so good.
âof course not, iâve already dyed my hair red before, remember?â oh you remember all too well. that red hair looked spectacular on him. it was during that time when you had a crush on himâor was it before then? scratch that, it was when you first met. you had a huge crush on wooyoung when you first met, and it lasted up until you met jaehyun for the first time. when was that? 2021? you broke up in⌠2024?
gosh, itâs been so long since youâve even thought about jaehyun. itâs now 2026 and you all have moved on to bigger and better things. last you checked, he was doing his military service.
haha, you lost your hair. loser.
you know who hasnât lost his hair? wooyoung. where were we? oh right, back to the crush thing. yeah, you had the fattest crush on him, just cute puppy love at first. he didnât know, you tried to hold it in, it ate away at you for years, and eventually the crush faded. but now? something has changed, you canât tell if itâs the way he looks at you or if the plates in your brain shifted the night he comforted you during one of the most heartbreaking moments in your life. all you know is right now, he is taking your breath away all over again.
âdo you know how to dye hair?â you ask.
âi mean⌠not really, but i can try.â he smiles down at you, oh god.
âalright, iâll dye your hair tonight. come over with the stuff so i can get to business, and make sure you get enough!â
âhow much is enough?â
âthe whole store baby, the whole store.â you rest your head on his shoulder and continue scrolling on your phone.
baby? did she just call me baby? sheâs never done that before. what does that mean? uh, my heart is kind of freaking out. oh my god, does she hear it?
so yeah, wooyoung may or may not have never gotten over his crush on you. fuck that, he never did. itâs definite. when you were with jaehyun he had to tone down the his touching, flirting, all the things that makes him, well, him. but itâs been two years since jaehyun has been out of the picture. guess what that means? itâs his turn.
heâs had a crush on you ever since you graced his eyes, though he never allowed himself to show it. which, even if he did, heâs pretty sure youâd only just think itâs him being the same old flirty wooyoung when that wouldnât have been the case at all. i mean, yes, he has flirted with you, and yes it has been serious on his end. does he think you got the hint though? pfft, how could you? you were too far up jaehyuns ass to pay him any mind.
knock knock knock
âyay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yayyyyy!â you squeal as you make your way over to your door. you love when itâs time to get your hair done, just as much as you love doing othersâ hair. you yank the door open with a big smile, and as expected, wooyoung is standing there with a boyish grin and a bag full of hair supplies.
âare you ready to stain your entire bathroom?â
âyes!â
hereâs the current situation; you currently have your hair soaked in red dye under a shower cap. wooyoung? heâs sitting on the toilet while you stand in front of him and work the dye into his hair.
âyou shouldâve put gloves on,â he says as he watches you work your magic above him. heâs extremely aware of how close you are to one another right now, you between his legs while he struggles to figure out where the fuck he should put his hands.
âwell you didnât either. if you get in trouble then iâll get in trouble too,â you smile down at him with the most beautiful smile heâs ever seen. he takes this moment to really look at you. you have a beauty mark right under your lip, how has he never noticed that before? you smell amazing, donât get him wrong, you always smell good, but right now? oh my god. vanilla and everything gourmet. wooyoung swears heâs become addicted to it.
you know heâs staring, youâre extremely aware of it actually. thatâs what makes this all the more fun. youâve noticed heâs been extra clingy lately. always sitting with you during practice breaks, going to get food with you, getting food for you, heâs even been walking you home some nights. youâre not sure why, but your hopes are most certainly high.
âwhatâre you looking at?â you question with an anxious laugh.
âyour beauty mark,â he replies, reaching up to rub his finger against it. okay, that took you off guard completely. your entire body froze for a second before getting back to work on his hair, reaching to gather more of the dye. wooyoung noticed the effect he had on you.
âyouâre just now noticing it?â
âyeah, i donât know why thoughâŚâ he says softly, almost mesmerized. âitâs pretty,â the room is silent for a moment after that, the only sound coming from your hands working on his head. âyouâre pretty.â
you freeze.
what did he just say?
your eyes fall to his, heâs already looking at you. you both stare at each other for a moment, no words being said but somehow itâs so loud in this bathroom. you notice him leaning up, an attempt to get closer to your face. you find yourself also inching closer to him, so close yet so far.
your lips are inches away from each other at this point, his breath tickling your face. his hands slide up the backs of your legs and thatâs what snaps you out of it. you quickly pull away, clearing your throat. wooyoung jumps from shock and does the same, nervously rubbing his hands on his thighs.
âum- your hair should be good now. we just have to leave it in for thirty minutes,â you quickly say as your hands move just as fast to grab all the trash.
wooyoung clears his throat, âyeah, alright. okay,â he stands and grabs a shower cap, putting it over his hair. youâre out of the bathroom in a flash, speeding to your trash can and onto the couch. fuck. what just happened.
you turn a show on, no idea what it is but it provides you a distraction from whatever the hell you almost did in there. wooyoung makes himself known by sinking into the couch next to you. you donât look at him, donât acknowledge his presence, you donât even speak. all you can do is stare straight ahead at the tv and pray the timer on your phone goes off any minute now.
wooyoung is the same. this fucking timer canât go off any faster. he takes his chances and looks over at you, but you pay him no mind. ouch. itâs stays exactly like that until thirty minutes are up, the both of you springing off the couch and heading for the bathroom.
âwe should wash your hair out first since itâs been sitting longer,â he points out. yeah, i guess we should. you grab a towel and wrap it around your shoulders while wooyoung takes your shower cap off. god this is awkward. you get on your knees and lean over the tub while wooyoung begins massaging your head under the water.
âholy fucking shit itâs been almost ten minutes why is the water not clear yet?â you yell out. you back is aching and your sure wooyoungs is too.
âi donât know, do you think itâs good enough? i mean, itâs pink water and not red water soâŚâ
âitâs good. itâs good, itâs good. oh my god, my back hurts please let me get up,â you groan as wooyoung helps you up and wraps the towel over your head. you just stare at each other for a minute before letting out tiny laughs. âyouâre next.â
wooyoung stares at your pink-stained bathtub, âyeah, i guess i am.â and then you repeat the process once more, except itâs much louder and way more annoying this time.
âouch! donât rip my hair out, damn it!â
âiâm sorry, im not trying to!â
âmy back hurts, oh my god.â
âiâm never letting you dye my hair again.â
wah, wah, wah! crybaby, crybaby, crybaby!
eventually, the torture is over and itâs time to dry the hair. great.
âdo you want me to dry your hair or do you have it?â you ask.
wooyoung smiles, âyou can do it.â oh, of course. donât be mistaken, the situation is still very much awkward, but somehow a bit of the tension has been released. thatâs just how you guys are. while you dry his hair thereâs nothing to be said, as if you would even be able to with how loud the damn thing is.
once you finish his hair you switch roles, but instead of you sitting on the toilet he stands behind you in front of the sink. perks of being taller, i guess. you watch him very carefully through the mirror as he runs his fingers through your hair, making sure to dry every piece without tangles. heâs so pretty, you canât help but to think.
just then, he looks up at you. youâve been caught. his smirk grows wide, âwhatcha looking at, huh?â he yells over the blow dryer.
âmm, nothing,â you say innocently with the faintest smile.
he turns the blow dryer off, âhuh? what was that?â he teases.
you roll your eyes, âi said nothing.â he places the blow dryer on the counter and traps you from behind, both arms resting on either side of your body.
âdoesnât look like nothing,â he whispers in your ear whilst maintaining eye contact in the mirror. is the window open? itâs very cold in here, no, itâs hot. itâs so fucking hot.
wooyoungs hands move to your waist and spin you around to face him, âyou wonât run from me this time, will you?â he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips for a split second.
you canât help but to notice how close you both are in this moment, his hips keeping you grounded against counter, the tips of your noses brushing. you shake your head as you both lean in, lips finally locking. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your arms lock around his neck, fingers pulling at his freshly dyed hair.
you open your eyes for a split second, seeing the cherry red hair you worked oh so hard on.
you hear wooyoungs groans as you pull his soft hair, and you can smell the strawberry chapstick he mustâve put on right before this.
your tongues mix together, now finally, you taste the strawberry chapstick.
his hands are roaming all over your body now, and you reciprocate. your hands glide down his back, feeling the muscles as they flex beneath your hands.
wooyoung groans into your mouth once more, feeding you with all of his beautiful sounds. yours mouths move in tandem with one another, barely coming up for air, but when you finally do? oh, it is so, so sweet.
your breaths mingle as you pull apart, staring into each others eyes. âso,â you squeak.
âso.â
âwhat now?â he hums as he rests his forehead on yours.
âhmm, round two?â you both giggle as you lock your lips for a second time that night, the both of you having no idea what youâve just started.
itâs officially comeback day. youâve got adrenaline flushing through your veins. no, seriously. youâre all backstage getting your make up and hair done. wooyoung is sitting beside you with his assigned make up artist while you get your hair done, scrolling through your phone and seeing what atiny thinks about the music video.
âwooyoung, atiny said they like our matching hair.â you giggle and show him the comments under the video.
âthey have good taste,â he winks. after about fifteen minutes your hair is done and wooyoung has his make up on, itâs time to rotate with the other members. you walk out the room and to your dressing room to make any adjustments to your make up and hair. what? god forbid a girl has preferences.
ânow why are you ruining what our lovely stylists worked so hard on?â the oh, so, familiar voice booms through your dressing room, causing you to jump and accidentally smear lipstick on your chin.
âwooyoung!â you whined, pouting at him through the mirror. heâs smirking, leaning against the doorframe. âit wasnât ruined until you did that shit!â you groan, not noticing him close the door and lock it behind him. youâre too focused on trying to fix your make up that you donât realize how close he is now.
âaww baby, itâs okay. here, let me see,â he leans down from behind and holds your face in his hand. oh. licking his lips, he kisses up from the smeared lipstick to your lips, stealing your breath away. you relax immediately, releasing the breath you didnât know you were holding in all this time.
he pulls away with a frown, âmm. that didnât work, hold on.â he moves his thumb to your chin, carefully wiping the lipstick off. his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. feeling a bit naughty, you take advantage of this moment. you open your mouth and let him thumb glide against your tongue, maintaining eye contact with the cherry-haired man. âoh, babyâŚâ he groans, âyou shouldnât do that.â
that only encourages you to suck his thumb harder. âoh, i see. you wanna be a little slut, huh?â your eyes gloss over at that, pupils dilated. he pushes his thumb further back before sliding it out your mouth, holding the side of your head as you lean into his touch.
âplease,â you beg.
âplease what?â he presses, sinking down to his knees and turning your chair to face him. your legs spread willingly, your body moving before you can even think. his hands smooth over your thighs, trialing up your skirt, âyou gotta tell me what you want or i canât help you, my love.â
your breath hitches as he pulls down the shorts youâre wearing underneath your skirt. âp-please, touch me.â
âtouch you?â he cocks his head to the side, âtouch you where, huh?â wooyoung leaves a trail of kisses up your inner thighs and pushes up your skirt to reveal your panties. his thumb grazes the wet spot shining through them, âhere?â your legs try to close but oh, oh no, heâs not having that. he keeps your legs spread with his hands, âkeep these pretty legs open or you wonât be getting a damn thing from me, got it?â
youâve never nodded your head so quick in your life.
he hooks his thumb on your panties and pushes them aside, mouth watering at the sight. âoh, look at this pretty pussy,â he damn near moans as he blows cool air against your heat, making your hips jerk forward. he smirks before sinking inbetween your thighs, flattening his tongue against you to test the waters. you lay your head back against the chair, a content sigh escaping your lips.
his tongue swirled around your clit once, twice, three times before he began to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you. then comes his fingers, and boy does he waste no time. he dives two fingers into your heat, curling and twisting while you encourage him with your moans.
âoh- fuck, youngie.â you cry out. he chuckles against your clit before picking up the pace, âplease- donât stop, please.â
âmm, yeah? donât stop?â
âplease-â
âtell me how good it feels baby, tell your youngie how good heâs treating your pussy.â
youâve completely lost your mind at this point, the coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the second. not a single word is coming to mind. you canât speak, you can hardly think, only thing you know is him. with another flick of his tongue youâre releasing all over his fingers, crying out for god knows who as you rock your hips with the movement of his fingers still inside of you.
âyeah baby, let it all out for me. cum all over my fingers.â he coos. he helps you ride out your orgasm with a couple kisses to your now swollen clit, kissing up your body to your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, his fingers still pumping in and out of your at a slow pace. after another minute or two he finally pulls them out of you, sucking his fingers dry and pulling you into another sloppy, wet, kiss.
when he pulls away a string of saliva is left behind, keeping the two of you connected. âbend over the vanity for me, doll.â he says as he unbuckles his belt and works to get his pants off. you do as he says and watch in the mirror as he pulls his cock out. you bite your lip once you see his red, hot, angry tip is leaking with precum, mouth immediately watering. âitâs impolite to stare.â he teases, pushing your head further down as he lines up behind you.
he pushes your skirt over your hips and pulls your panties to the side again, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, your mouth falls open as a silent moan tears through you. wooyoung bites his lip as he watches through the mirror. âthat feel good baby? you feel me?â you nod. all you can do is nod at this point, youâre so insanely fucked out and heâs barely even done anything. âi need you to be quieter this time, okay? we gotta go on in five minutes.â he whispers in your ear.
his hands hold your hips steady against the vanity as he pushes in, holding back his own moan as he sinks into your heat. âfuckkk, baby.â he groans, his head falling back before he slides out and then slams back into you.
his whole body is leaning over you now as his hips piston into your gummy walls, your mouth has fallen open once again and your eyes roll to the back of your head. âoh, fuck!â your cry out, causing wooyoung to shove two fingers into your mouth to shut you the fuck up.
âwhat did i say?â he groans breathlessly into your ear, âbe a good girl for me, shhh, shh, itâs okay.â he has to bite into your shoulder himself just to stay quiet, his own orgasm creeping up on him. the coil in your stomach is tightening again, your hands grabbing out for anything to keep you stable.
your orgasm tears through you once more, tears running down your face. âi feel you, baby. iâm here.â his hips are moving at an impossible speed by now, chasing his orgasm along with yours. once he feels your walls fluttering around him he knows itâs time. âcum again, baby. cum all over my cock, please- cum for me.â his whines drive you over the edge.
your entire body trembles underneath his as you release for the third time, all over his now softening cock. he pumps a few more times, making sure every last drop is gone before removing his fingers from your mouth and leaning back, looking down at the beautiful sight. once he slides out of you, his thumb replaces his cock. bending down to be face to face with your pussy, the pumps his thumb in and out of you a few times. âgotta make sure you donât leak all over the stage, huh?â he smirks, removing his thumb and sliding your panties back into place.
âhey, where are my shorts?â you ask once youâve both cleaned each other up. wooyoung smirks at you for what feels like the hundredth time today.
âoh, you mean these?â he holds them up on his pointer finger, waving them around in your face before shoving them in his pocket. âyou wonât be needing them.â
staff knocks on your door, âthirty seconds, letâs go!â you both look at the door and then at each other.
wooyoung leans towards you, âlike i said, donât leak all over the stage.â and with that, he leaves a smack on your ass before walking out of the dressing room, leaving both you and your five senses going haywire.
what. the. fuck.
Š woopetal. all rights reserved.
this is simply a work of fiction and is not meant be true representation of artists mentioned in any way, shape, or form.
genre: non idol!au, college!au, fluff, kind of a slow burn with a very happy ending, mutual pining!!!!!!!! he falls first and hard, she too falls hard and fast :)))
word count: 25k, deadass.
âââââ ââ ââ â âââââ
warnings: acquaintances to lovers, economics jumpscare, reader is a tutor and mingi is your not so average frat dude that does an athletic scholarship, eventual smut, praise kink!!!!!, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dry humping, lowk breeding kink mingi freaky, switch!mingi & reader, softdom!mingi, spanking (?), possessive!mingi, cockwarming (a lil!) / lmk if i missed any!
author's note: guys i finally locked in!!! this story has been such a bitch to write but i'm finally happy with it lmfaoaoo. the only reason why it took so long its cause i deadass remembered all my econ concepts from my first year at uni and i got flashbacks sooooo. if its inaccurate don't come for me. also ngl mingi ain't even that much of a fratboy, he is but he's a little nerd!! you'll see - i hope you guys enjoy!!
permanent taglist: @norixseaweed @f3mboienjoyer @liightlizard @minguxxs + if you want to be added to my taglist, let me know :))
You hear him before you see him. The sound is impossible to missâsomeoneâs torn the universe open and stuffed it with a live wire; the room buzzes, vibrates, orbits around a single axis. Song Mingi is that axis, black hair messy from hands that are never his own, smile bright enough to reflect off the bottles lining the kitchen counter. Itâs the kind of house party that exists more as myth than reality until youâre standing in the middle of it, your feet sticky with last weekendâs spilled vodka, your ears ringing from bass and laughter and the high-pitched screeching of people who either want to be him or be with him.
You donât want either. In fact, you donât really want to be here, but your roommate insistedâa rare Friday night without any assignments dueâand now sheâs traded you for a swarm of sweaty college kids in the living room. Youâre left clutching a warm can of seltzer, surveying the landscape like a tourist on safari: here, the drunken pack of freshman girls hunched over a phone for a group selfie; there, the duo of varsity rowers relishing about morning practice, each trying to outdo the otherâs misery; everywhere, the constant, inescapable gravitational pull of him.
Heâs posted at the middle of it all, a bottle of expensive liquor in one hand and a girl in the other. Sheâs whispering in his ear, probably promising him things people only say out loud when their inhibitions have been loosened by alcohol and the hope of being remembered. Itâs a practised scene, and you can tell from the way Mingiâs eyes slide from her face to the crowd and back again that heâs already bored. Heâs hunting, you realise, and the realisation leaves you faintly amused.
Youâve had classes with him before and found his intellect sharper than his reputation suggests, but heâs never bothered to speak to you directly, which is fine. You prefer it that way. You know exactly what happens to girls who mistake the man for the myth.
But tonight, for whatever reason, he looks right at you.
You donât realise it at first; youâre half-listening to the rowers behind you, half-calculating the economic impact of the universityâs new housing policy for the department group chat. Thereâs a lull in the noise, a momentary vacuum, and then his gaze lands like a physical thing. It takes you off guardâthe pure concentration of it, as if heâs seeing you in high-definition while the rest of the house blurs into obscurity. His attention is so heavy, so absolute, that even the girl on his arm notices and goes rigid with annoyance.
Your instinct is to look away. But for some reason, you donât. Maybe itâs the alcohol buzzing in your veins, maybe itâs the novelty of being the focal point in a room devoted to him, but you meet his eyes and hold them. Mingiâs mouth quirks, not into a smirk but something strange and speculative, and when he finally looks away, it feels less like defeat and more like a challenge accepted.
Within the hour, he maneuvers his way to your side of the party, the girl from before abandoned to the mercy of the crowd. He props an elbow on the countertop, leans in so dangerously close, âDidnât think this was your scene.â
You arch an eyebrow, the response easy. âIt really isnât, my roommate dragged me out.â
He grins, all teeth and promise. âI have to thank her for bringing such a pretty girl to my party.â
You roll your eyes, annoyed but not surprised. The rest of the party moves around you in a kind of staccato blur. A game of beer pong erupts into a shouting match in the dining room; someoneâs Bluetooth speaker dies mid-chorus, leading to a plaintive chorus of off-key singing. People bump into you, apologise, and then linger a beat longer than necessary to see if youâre still talking to Mingi. He doesnât seem to notice, but you do. He asks what youâre studying, and you answer. You ask him what he wants to do after graduation, and he shrugs, but the gesture is so carefree yet careful.
âIf this soccer thing doesnât work out, Iâll intern at some start-up company,â he explained. âOr Iâll sell feet pics.â
You cringe at the image. The girl from before stalks past, her glare sharp enough to sever arteries. Mingi watches her go but his gaze falls right back to you.Â
By midnight, the house dissolves into its constituent parts: the freshies, the clean-up crew, the drunk casualties. Mingi drifts away, then back againâat your side, across the kitchen, never quite out of reach. He offers you a drink at one point; you decline, still nursing the same seltzer. It doesnât stop him. He keeps finding his way back, as if every conversation eventually leads to you.
You leave before he does. Thereâs no dramatic goodbye, no exchanged numbers or whispered invitationsâjust a passing nod, the kind that could mean anything or nothing at all. You donât look back. By the time youâre out the door (your roommate long gone with a lacrosse player, leaving you to fend for yourself), the night already feels like itâs starting to blur at the edges. Whatever that was, if it was anything, you let it go.
Inside, though, Mingi doesnât. Heâs still watching the spot where you disappeared, gaze fixed a beat too long, like heâs waiting for you to reappear. The noise of the party swells back in around him, but he doesnât moveâdrink untouched, conversation abandoned mid-thread.
A shoulder bumps into his.
âWhatâs with that look on your face?â
Mingi blinks, like heâs just been pulled back into the room. âWhat look?â
Yunho huffs a quiet laugh. âThat look. You had heart eyes bro don't even play.â
Mingi scoffs, quick, automatic. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
His friend raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, following his line of sight to the now-empty doorway before glancing back at him. Mingi exhales through his nose, finally tearing his gaze away, dragging a hand over the back of his neck like he can shake it off. He should've definitely asked for your number.
Monday morning arrives with the kind of headache that has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with three consecutive all-nighters. Professor Kimâs Advanced Macroeconomic Theory is notoriously brutal, and youâve spent the weekend buried under supply-demand graphs and inflation models. As you slide into your usual seat, youâre already mentally rehearsing your presentation on fiscal policy scheduled for next week.
Which is why, when Mingi strolls through the lecture hall doors at 8:58 AM, you momentarily forget how to function.
He shouldnât be here. This isnât his class, or at least it hasnât been for the past six weeks. Youâve never seen him in this lecture hall before, despite it being nearly midterm. Yet there he is, wearing dark jeans and a simple white button down that somehow looks so irritatingly good on his frame, scanning the room with casual confidence. His eyes find yours immediately, as if itâs magnetised. The smile that follows is different from Friday nightâsâsmaller, more genuine, it was like he wanted to see you. Before you can process whatâs happening, heâs navigating the row of seats, stepping over backpacks and laptops until heâs standing right next to you.
âThis seat taken?â he asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.
You blink, thrown by the unexpected proximity. âI didnât know you were in this class.â
âIâm full of surprises.â He drops into the seat, arranging his long legs in the cramped space. âSo, howâd you find the party?â
The question is casual, but thereâs something careful in his tone, as if your answer matters more than heâs letting on. You notice he pulled out a notebook AND a pen, this was definitely exceeding your expectations of him. Then again, what did you expect anyway?Â
âIt was... something,â you reply, deliberately vague. âThough Iâm surprised to see you conscious before noon, much less in an 8 AM econ lecture.â
He laughs, the sound low enough not to draw attention but warm enough to settle somewhere beneath your ribs. âWhat, you think I spend all my mornings hungover?â
âThe evidence suggested a statistical probability.â
âMaybe Iâm an outlier.â He leans closer, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologneâsmelling faintly of citrus and cedarwood. âOr I just needed the right motivation to show up.â
Thankfully Professor Kim walks in and begins the lecture, leaving you no time to tweak out over whatever the fuck he said. You expect Mingi to lose interest, to pull out his phone, or to doze off, like half the class inevitably does when the professor starts droning on about aggregate demand curves. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes focused on the presentation slides. Ten minutes in, when he introduces a particularly convoluted model, Mingi shifts slightly toward you.
âHey,â he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. âIf the Phillips curve is supposed to show the inverse relationship between unemployment and inflation, why is he saying itâs unstable in the long run?â
The question catches you off guardânot because itâs difficult, but because itâs astute. âBecause expectations adjust,â you whisper back. âWorkers anticipate inflation and demand higher wages, which shifts the curve.â
He nods, considering this. âSo itâs only reliable as a short-term predictor?â
âYeah, you got it.â
Throughout the next hour, Mingi continues to ask questionsâthoughtful ones that reveal heâs not just listening but actively processing. Each time he leans in, you feel a strange flutter of... something. Not just attraction, though thatâs undeniably there, but surprise. Mingi, the guy who supposedly once turned the campus fountain into a bubble bath during finals week, is engaging with macroeconomic theory like it genuinely interests him.
âThe Solow model assumes diminishing returns to capital,â he murmurs at one point, frowning slightly. âDoesnât that contradict what weâre seeing with tech companies? They seem to get increasing returns the bigger they get.â
You stare at him for a beat too long. âThatâs... actually a good point. The model was developed before the rise of digital economies. Network effects change the math.â
A smile spreads across his face, pleased and slightly smug, as if heâs won something. âIâm not just a pretty face, you know.â
The comment should be annoying, but delivered in a whisper while the professor drones on about growth rates, it makes you roll your eyes and bite back a smile instead. By the time class ends, youâve had to recalibrate your entire perception of him. Heâs taken actual notes. Heâs asked intelligent questions. Heâs made connections between concepts that some of your study group members still struggle with. Itâs disorienting, like discovering your cat can suddenly understand what youâre saying. As you pack up your laptop, he lingers, watching you with that same intense focus from the party.
âSo,â he says, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. âI think I deserve some credit for showing up today. Maybe we could grab coffee, and you could explain more about that Phillips curve thing?â
The invitation is transparentâhe doesnât need your help understanding the Phillips curveâbut thereâs something almost endearing about his attempt.
âIs that your go-to line?â you ask, unable to keep the amusement from your voice. âPretend to need academic help to get a date?â
âOnly with the smart ones.â His grins unapologetically. âIs it working?â
You laugh, shaking your head as you stand. âNo. Nice try, though.â
Rather than looking discouraged, his eyes light up with what can only be described as delighted challenge. He falls into step beside you as you head for the door.
âYou know what this means, right?â His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. âNow I have to come up with something better for Wednesdayâs class.â
âWednesdayâs class?â You stop at the doorway, genuinely surprised. âYouâre coming back?â
Mingi looks at you like youâve said something ridiculous. âOf course. I paid for this course, didnât I? Besides,â he adds, his smile turning slightly wicked, âIâve got a new reason to show up now.â
Before you can protest this presumptuous declaration, heâs backing away, walking backward down the hallway with that infuriating confidence.
âSee you Wednesday,â he calls. âMaybe by then youâll have reconsidered that coffee date.â
You watch him go, torn between irritation and a reluctant spark of interest. The worst part is, you already know youâll be thinking about him for the rest of the day, analysing his questions, his attention, the way he looked at you like you were a particularly fascinating economic theory he was determined to master. Despite your best intentions, youâre already wondering what heâll come up with on Wednesday.
True to his word, Mingi shows up to every single class over the next few weeks. Not just Macroeconomic Theory, but your shared Political Science workshop and even the optional Economics Department lectures that most students skip. Each time, he gravitates toward you like youâre the north to his south, sliding into adjacent seats with casual determination.
At first, youâre suspiciousâwaiting for the punchline, the reveal that this is some elaborate bet or another frat bro prank. The punchline never comes. Instead, he brings you coffee and snacks, asks thoughtful questions about the material, and occasionally makes you laugh with whispered commentary when Professor Kim goes on one of his tangents about his glory days at the Federal Reserve.
You find yourself slipping into a strange routine. Heâll wait for you after class, walking you to your next destination while debating fiscal multipliers or the ethics of quantitative easing. Sometimes his soccer teammates call out to him across the quad, and you watch the transformationâhow he shifts into the boisterous, larger-than-life Mingi they expect, before settling back into the more thoughtful version when he returns to your side.
Itâs Tuesday afternoon when everything shifts. The library is packed with students cramming for midterms, the air thick with desperation and the smell of overpriced coffee. Youâve claimed your usual table by the economics stacks when Mingi drops into the chair across from you, his expression unusually serious.
âI need to ask you something,â he says, no preamble, no charming smile.
You glance up from your notes, pen hovering. âOkay?â
He runs a hand through his hairâa nervous gesture youâve never seen from him before. âI need a tutor.â
You stare at him, waiting for the joke. When it doesnât come, you set down your pen. âYouâre kidding, right? Youâve been getting the material just fine.â
âNo, I havenât.â His voice is lower now, stripped of its usual confidence. âIâve been barely keeping up. The midtermâs in two weeks, and Iâmââ He stops, jaw tightening. âI need to pass this class with at least a B+.â
âYouâve been answering questions in class,â you counter, confused by this sudden admission. âYou made that connection about endogenous growth theory that even Professor Kim said was insightful.â
Mingiâs laugh is hollow. âYeah, after spending six hours the night before trying to understand it. Lookââ He leans forward, elbows on the table. âIâm not as smart as you think I am. Not naturally, anyway. I have to work twice as hard just to keep up.â
You study him, searching for signs of insincerity. âWhy are you telling me this now? And why me?â
âYouâre the smartest person in this class. IâI donât know who else to askâŚâ His eyes meet yours, unusually vulnerable. âI think you might actually help me without making me feel stupid about it.â
Something doesnât add up. Youâve seen him joke around with teaching assistants, charm his way into deadline extensions. âI donât understandââ
Mingi glances around, then lowers his voice. âIâm on an athletic scholarship. Full ride, but I have to maintain a 3.5 GPA, or I lose it.â He runs a hand over his face. âMy advisor warned me last week. This class is dragging everything down. If I donât get at least a B+ on this midterm, Iâm screwed.â
The admission hangs between you, reshaping your understanding of him. You didnât expect him to be so honest, let alone be honest with you. You knew you were more than capable of tutoring him, youâve tutored multiple students and peers in past. A part of you wants to deny himâ to encourage him to try the other capable tutors in this course but something about his vulnerability made you hold back on that decision.Â
âWhy didnât you say something sooner?â you ask, softer now.
âBecause itâs embarrassing?â He gives a self-deprecating smile that doesnât reach his eyes. âThe dumb jock stereotype exists for a reason. Iâve been fighting it since high school.â He hesitates. âAnd maybe I wanted you to think I was smart enough to keep up with you.â
The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. This is a different man than the one who struts across campus with practised nonchalance, who holds court at parties with effortless charm. This Mingi looks tired and worried, seeing him like this made your heart sink a little.
âI canât afford a professional tutor,â he continues when you donât immediately respond. âMost of my scholarship money goes to housing and food. I can pay you a tutor fee if you have one. Please.â
You should say no. You have your own exams to study for, your own GPA to maintain. But thereâs something about seeing him like thisâdefences down, pride set asideâthat makes it difficult.
âIf I do this,â you say slowly, âthere would be conditions.â
Hope flickers across his face. âName them.â
âFirst, you pay me. My normal rate is sixty per session but considering your situation, I can lower the costâthis is work, not charity.â You hold up a finger. âSecond, you actually put in the effort. No skipping sessions, no half-assing the practice problems I give you.â Another finger joins the first. âAnd third, no messing around. This isnât a backdoor way toâI donât knowâwhatever it is you might be thinking.â
âYou think Iâm using this as an excuse to hit on you?â For the first time, genuine amusement crosses his face. âThat would be a pretty elaborate scheme, even for me.â
âIâm serious, Mingi.â
âSo am I.â The smile fades. âI need this scholarship. Please.â
You sigh, already second-guessing yourself. âFine. We start tomorrow. Six pm, here. Bring your textbook, all your notes, and any practice exams you can get your hands on.â
The relief that washes over his face is so raw it makes you uncomfortable. He reaches across the table, squeezing your hand briefly. âThank you. Seriously.â
âDonât thank me yet,â you warn. âIâm not going to go easy on you.â
âI wouldnât expect you to.â He stands, some of his usual confidence returning.
As you watch him walk away, shoulders straight but tension visible in the line of his neck, you canât shake the feeling that youâve just crossed some invisible boundary. This isnât just coffee after class or witty banter during lectures. This is entangling yourself in his future, taking partial responsibility for his success or failure. You turn back to your notes, trying to focus, but your mind keeps drifting to the look in his eyes when he admitted he needed help. The vulnerability there was realâyouâre almost certain of it. Almost. As you pack up your things hours later, doubt creeps in. Youâve seen how charming he can be, how easily he navigates social situations to get what he wants. What if this is just another performance? What if youâre falling for an act designed to manipulate you into doing his academic heavy lifting? The questions follow you all the way home, lingering as you prepare for bed. You set an alarm for tomorrow and added a reminder to prepare some preliminary materials for your first tutoring session. Despite your misgivings, youâre already mapping out a study plan, identifying the concepts he seemed to struggle with most.
Surely, this little arrangement you have going on wonât be a mistake⌠Right?
You arrive at the library fifteen minutes early to set up, spreading out practice problems and your own colour-coded notes across the table. Youâve been overthinking this all dayâwondering if heâll even show up, if this whole vulnerable confession was just an elaborate ploy to get you to do his work for him. The clock hits 6:00 PM. Then 6:05. Your suspicions start to crystallise into something like disappointment.
At 6:07, Mingi rushes through the library doors, slightly out of breath. Heâs carrying a tray with two coffees and a small paper bag that smells suspiciously of baked goods.
âSorry Iâm late,â he says, sliding into the chair across from you. âThe line at the cafĂŠ was insane.â
You eye the coffee sceptically. âIs this a bribe?â
He laughs, quieter than his usual boisterous sound, mindful of the library setting. âNo, itâs a thank you. Here, try this.â He slides one cup toward you. âOh, and I got those almond croissants you mentioned the other day. Though honestly, I might have also gotten them because Iâm starving.â
The fact that he remembered your drink order is surprising enough. That he recalled an offhand comment you made about pastries during a five-minute conversation between classes is something else entirely.
âYou didnât have to do that,â you murmur, but you accept the cup anyway, the warmth seeping into your palms.
âSâalright, I wanted to.â He pulls out his textbook and a surprisingly organised binder of notes. âSo, where do we start?â
For the next hour, you walk him through the fundamental concepts of various economic principles, expecting his attention to wander, waiting for the inevitable check of his phone or glance at the clock. It never comes. Instead, Mingi leans forward, brow furrowed in concentration, asking questions that reveal heâs been paying closer attention than you gave him credit for.Â
âSo if technological progress is exogenous in this model,â he questions, tapping his pencil against the page, âthen what actually drives long-term growth? Since capital accumulation alone has diminishing returns, right?â
âExactly.â You canât help the surprise in your voice. âThatâs one of the modelâs main limitations. It doesnât explain where technological progress comes from.â
He nods, making a note in the margin of his textbook. âWhich is why we need endogenous growth theory.â
You stare at him. âYouâve been reading ahead.â
A hint of his usual smirk appears. âDonât sound so shocked. I told you Iâm locked in for our sessions.â
âReading ahead is a bit more than just locking in,â you point out.
âMaybe Iâm trying to impress my tutor.â He winks, but thereâs something different about his teasing nowâless performative.
You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. âFocus, Mingi.â
âI am focused,â he protests, gesturing to his detailed notes. âSee? Iâm being a model student.â
âA model student wouldnât have waited until three weeks before midterms to ask for help,â you counter, but thereâs no bite to your words.
âTrue.â He stretches, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches for another practice problem. The brief contact sends an unexpected jolt through you. âBut then I wouldnât have had the pleasure of your company on a Wednesday evening.â
You ignore the flutter in your stomach. âHaha. Very funny.â
As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing into a rhythm with him. Heâs attentive, asking thoughtful questions and working through problems with determined concentration. When he gets stuck on a particularly tricky concept about crowding-out effects, he doesnât get frustratedâinstead, he listens carefully to your explanation, his eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that makes your cheeks warm.
âLike this?â he asks after reworking the problem, sliding his paper toward you.
Your fingers brush as you take it, and neither of you pulls away immediately. You study his work, acutely aware of how close heâs sitting, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the drinks between you.
âThatâs...actually perfect,â you admit, surprised by the clarity of his work. âYou got it exactly right.â
His smile is different from any youâve seen beforeânot the practiced charm he flashes at parties or the competitive grin on the soccer field. Itâs smaller, more genuine, edged with relief.
âI have a good teacher,â he says simply.
You clear your throat, suddenly finding the library too warm. âLetâs try another one.â
Two hours fly by faster than you expected. Mingi works through problem after problem, his understanding visibly improving with each explanation. When he successfully graphs a complex IS-LM model without assistance, the pride on his face is so unguarded it catches you off guard.
âSee? Not just another dumb jock,â he says, but the joke doesnât land quite right. You hear the insecurity beneath it.
âI never thought you were dumb,â you say carefully. âUnmotivated, maybe. But not dumb.â
He looks up from his notes, expression surprisingly vulnerable. âMost people donât make that distinction.â
âIâm not most people.â
âNo,â he agrees, studying your face. âYouâre definitely not.â
The moment stretches between you, taut with something unspoken. Youâre the first to break eye contact, shuffling papers with unnecessary focus.
âItâs getting late,â you say, glancing at your watch. âWe should probably wrap up.â
Mingi begins gathering his things, but his movements are unhurried. âSame time Friday?â
You hesitate. You hadnât planned on making this a regular thing, certainly not multiple times a week. But the progress heâs made in just one session is undeniable.
âYou donât have practice on Friday?â
âNot until seven.â He zips up his backpack. âUnless youâre busy.â
âNo, Iâm not busy.â The admission comes too quickly. âFriday works.â
As you pack up, he helps you organize your notes, handling the color-coded pages with careful precision. His fingers accidentally brush against yours again as he hands you a folder, and this time the contact lingers for a beat longer than necessary.
âThanks for not giving up on me,â he says quietly, shouldering his bag. âMost people would have.â
The sincerity in his voice makes something twist in your chest. âYou didnât give me a reason to.â
You walk together to the library exit, the night air cool against your skin after hours in the stuffy study area. Campus is quiet, most students either out for the evening or locked away studying. Mingi pauses under a lamppost, its glow casting shadows across his features.
âI can walk you home,â he offers. âItâs dark.â
âI live in the opposite direction from you,â you point out. âItâs fine, Iâve been walking home alone for two years now.â
He grins. âJust being a gentleman.â
âIs that what theyâre calling it these days?â
âOuch.â He clutches his chest in mock pain. âYou wound me.â
You laugh at his dramatic act. âGoodnight, Mingi.â
âGoodnight, Miss tutor.â He takes a step backward, still facing you. âDream of fiscal multipliers.â
âThatâs your homework, not mine,â you call after him.
His laughter carries on the night air as he walks away, and you stand watching him for a moment longer than necessary. Itâs only when youâre halfway home that you realize youâre still smiling, the warmth in your chest having nothing to do with the coffee you shared.
You tell yourself itâs just satisfaction from a productive tutoring session. Nothing more. Certainly not the way his eyes crinkled when he finally understood a difficult concept, or how his hand felt when it accidentally brushed yours, or the genuine gratitude in his voice when he thanked you. Definitely not that.
As you unlock your apartment door, you find yourself already planning Fridayâs session in your head, thinking of ways to explain concepts he struggled with, wondering if heâll bring coffee again, if heâll sit as close, if heâll look at you with that same focused intensity. Itâs purely academic help, you insist on yourself. Professional concern for a student who needs help. Even if you donât quite believe it.
Your roommate is waiting when you get home, practically vibrating with curiosity. âSo? How was tutoring Mingi? Did he make any moves?â
âIt was just tutoring,â you say, setting down your bag. âHeâs actually pretty smart, thought nothing was going on upstairs to be honest.â
Her lips thin out into a straight line, looking disappointed by your lack of gossip. âThatâs it? No flirting? No rizz? Nothing?â
You think about the moment he challenged your explanation, the genuine satisfaction in his eyes when he understood a complex concept.
âNope, nothing at all,â you deadpanned at your roommate.
As you lie in bed reviewing your day, you remember the intensity in his eyes when he thanked you. The way his smile changed when he was actually engaged with the material. The surprising depth of his questions. You wonder what other assumptions youâve made about Song Mingi might be wrong.
The following Friday, youâre setting up the study materials when Mingi arrives five minutes early this time. You almost burst out in laughter seeing the way he was trying to balance two cups of coffee in his hand.
âOkay once you're done clowning me, you have to try this vanilla latte. It's really good.â He sets them down carefully on your side of the table.
You eye the offerings suspiciously. âAre you sure this isnât supposed to be a bribe?â
âHm? For what?â He looks genuinely confused as he takes his seat.
âI donât know. Extra help? A better grade?â You push the coffee slightly away. âI canât accept this, youâve already bought me so much stuff the past couple of days.â
Mingi laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm in the sterile study room. âItâs just coffee, donât sweat it. Consider it a thank you for the last session. I actually understood what Professor Kim was talking about yesterday.â
You hesitate before reluctantly pulling the coffee back. âFine.â
His smiles. âIf I wanted to bribe you, Iâd need to do better than a coffee, doll. Consider it fuel for our session today.â
The nickname catches you off guard, heat rising unexpectedly to your cheeks. Mingiâs eyes flicker briefly to the colour spreading across your face, but he simply slides the coffee closer without comment. You accept the cup, fingers brushing his momentarily. Itâs still hot, and exactly how you like it. The gesture is small but thoughtful in a way you wouldnât have expected.
âThank you,â you hummed, setting up your materials. âDonât think this earns you any leniency on todayâs session.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â he says, already pulling out his completed homeworkâall of it done correctly, you note with surprise.
Over the next few sessions, a pattern emerges. Mingi has become significantly more punctual as your sessions progress, always bringing you coffee (though sometimes he switches it up with tea when you mention a sore throat), and always has his work prepared. The coffee becomes such a fixture that on the one day he arrives without it, you actually feel slightly disappointed.
âNo liquid bribery today?â you quipped, trying to keep your tone light.
His face falls. âThe line was insane, and I didnât want to be late.â He runs a hand through his hair, slightly panicked. âI can go get some if youââ
âI was joking,â you interject quickly. âDonât worry about it.â
âIâll make it up to you next week,â he shrugs, as if that helps explains everything.
The following week, he brings not only coffee but also a small paper bag containing a blueberry muffin from your favourite bakery across town.
âWhaâ Mingi, this isâŚâ you marvelled, eyeing the bakery logo. âThat place is twenty minutes from campus.â
He shrugs, focusing intently on opening his textbook. âMy morning run took me that way.â
âYour morning run took you four kilometres out of your way?â
He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping. âIâm an athlete. You could say that Iâve got excellent... endurance. A little detour doesnât bother me.â
You roll your eyes, you want to press the issue but are distracted when he pulls out the work you assigned him the previous session. Heâs not only completed all the assigned questions but has tackled the bonus problems you included as an afterthought. His work shows an elegant approach to the material that makes you pause.
âThis solution,â you point to his work on comparative advantage models, âwhere did you learn this method?â
âOh,â he looks almost embarrassed. âI was reading this paper by Stiglitz that mentioned a similar approach, so I adapted it. Is it wrong?â
You blink at him. âYouâre reading Joseph Stiglitz for fun?â
âGod no, not for fun,â he says, looking uncomfortable with your scrutiny. âI was trying to understand why the models in class werenât clicking for me. Sometimes I need to see the bigger picture.â
âYou know,â you say slowly, âyou might actually enjoy Behavioural Economics next semester. It challenges a lot of the classical assumptions.â
His eyes light up. âThatâs the unit with Professor Ryu, right? Iâve been wanting to take that.â
âWait, seriously?â You canât hide your surprise. âThat class is notoriously difficult.â
âSo am I, apparently,â he scoffed, but thereâs no bite to it. âAt least according to my tutor.â
The sessions continue, and with each one, your perception of Mingi shifts. When discussing economic inequality, he brings up points about systemic barriers that show heâs thought deeply about privilegeâincluding his own. During a session on game theory, he demonstrates an intuitive understanding of strategic thinking that surpasses most of your other students that you tutor.
âItâs like poker,â he explains when you comment on his grasp of Nash equilibrium. âEveryone thinks itâs about the cards, but itâs really about understanding peopleâs patterns and incentives.â
âYou play?â you ask, imagining loud frat house games with red cups and shouting.
âMy grandfather taught me,â he mumbled, something softer in his expression. âHe was an economics professor, actually.â
The revelation hangs between you, another piece of the puzzle that is Song Mingi. You want to ask more but sense his reluctance to elaborate. Maybe another day, you hope.
As your midterm approaches, your sessions intensify. You meet three times in the final week, once in the campus coffee shop when the library study rooms are all booked. Mingi still insists on paying for your drinks and snacks.
âOkay hear me out, Iâm applying economic concepts for when I order us coffee,â he announced before you can comment. âYouâre providing a service, Iâm compensating you beyond our agreed terms because the value exceeds the price.â
âThat sounds suspiciously like something I said two sessions ago,â you point out.
âI told you, I pay attention,â he corrected, and something in his tone makes you look up from your notes.
Heâs watching you with an expression you canât quite decipherâsomething more complex than what he shows the rest of the world. It makes your heart beat uncontrollably in your chest in a way that has nothing to do with caffeine. The night before the exam, you receive a text from him. Multiple actually.
The night before the exam, you receive a text from him: If monopolistic competition exhibits zero economic profit in the long run, why do firms bother entering the market?
You smile despite yourself and type back: Non-monetary incentives. Brand loyalty, market positioning, the satisfaction of seeing their competitors throw a bitch fit.
His response comes immediately: So spite is an economic motivator? They just like me fr.
You laugh out loud, drawing a curious look from your roommate.
âIs that Mingi?â she asks, eyebrows raised suggestively. âJust a last-minute economics question,â you answered, trying to sound casual.
âMhmm,â she hums skeptically. âSmiling over econ, rightâŚâ
You ignore her, sending Mingi one final message: Get some sleep. Economics rewards the well-rested. His reply makes your heart do something complicated.
I will, doll. Thank you.Â
On exam day, you spot him across the lecture hall. He catches your eye and gives you a small nodâno flashy smile, no charming wink, just quiet determination. For some reason, this affects you more than any of his rehearsed moves ever did that you observed in the past.
When Professor Kim calls time, you watch him hand in his exam with confidence in his posture that wasnât there six weeks ago. As students file out, he makes his way to your seat.
âHowâd it go?â you asked as you slowly gathered your things.
âI think,â he hums, âthat Professor Kim might actually have to give me an A.â
âDonât get cocky,â you scoff at his delusion, a small feeling of pride swells in your chest.
âNever,â he agrees solemnly, then ruins it with a grin. âI did crush that section on market failures. Turns out my experience with failed relationships was finally useful for something.â
You roll your eyes, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. âAnd here I thought weâd made progress beyond that frat boy persona of yours.â
âOld habits,â he nudges you with his elbow, falling into step beside you as you exit the classroom. âSeriously, thank you. I couldnât have done this without your help.â
You walk in silence for a moment, acutely aware of how his stride has adjusted to match yours. Itâs these small, unconscious accommodations that you find yourself noticing more and more lately.
âSo,â he clears his throat, breaking the quiet as you cross the quad, âMy frat is hosting our end-of-semester bash this weekend.â His tone is casual, but thereâs an undercurrent of something else. âSaturday night, starting around nine.â
You keep your eyes focused ahead. âIâm sure half the campus is already going and planning their outfits.â
âProbably,â he agrees with a light laugh. âBut I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to come?â
When you donât immediately respond, he adds quickly, âAs a thank you for helping me ace this exam. I mean, Iâm pretty sure I aced it.â
You slow your pace, finally turning to look at him properly. âYouâre inviting me to your party? Me?â The disbelief in your voice is unmistakable.
âIs that so hard to believe?â His expression is somewhere between amused and offended.
âMingi, I donât do parties.â You adjust your bag strap, uncomfortable with how this conversation is veering into territory youâve carefully avoided. âYou of all people should know that.â
He frowns, âDonât you want to celebrate? You helped me pull off a minor academic miracle here.â
âI think youâre exaggerating your previous academic despair,â you hesitated. âBesides, I donât think Iâd fit in with your crowd.â
âMy crowd?â He scoffs. âYouâve never even met my friends.â
âIâve seen enough from a distance, I know enough.â You start walking again, faster now. âThanks for the invitation, but Iâll pass.â
His long strides enable him to keep up with your pace. âCome on, just for an hour. You can leave if you hate it.â
âMingiââÂ
âOne hour, dollâ he repeats. âThatâs all Iâm asking. Iâll personally ensure no one spills anything on you and tries to bother you the whole night.â
Despite yourself, you laugh. âThatâs oddly specific.â
âI know my crowd.â His smile is softer now, more genuine. âPlease? I want you to see that thereâs more to usâto meâthan the stereotypes.â
You study his face, searching for the manipulation, But all you see is sincerity and hope.Â
âFine,â you groaned, not quite believing the words coming out of your mouth. âOne hour. Thatâs it. Iâm leaving the second someone tries to get me to play beer pong.â
His face lights up. âDeal. Iâll text you the details.â
As you part ways, you wonder what exactly youâve just agreed to. Youâve spent nearly three years avoiding exactly this kind of social situation. Loud music, drunk students, the messy intersection of alcohol and attraction. Yet somehow, when Mingi asked, your carefully constructed refusal crumbled.Â
Your roommate squeals when you tell her your weekend plans.
âYouâre going to the end of sem party? With Mingi?â She clutches your arm dramatically. âThis is basically getting an invite from the MET gala!â
âItâs just a thank you for the tutoring,â you explain, trying to sound casual as you sort through your closet. âIâm only staying for an hour.â
âSure,â she drew out the word with obvious disbelief. âThatâs why youâre trying on your fourth outfit.â
You drop the dress youâve been holding up. âI just want to look appropriate.â
âAppropriate for what? Or is it for making mister Song Mingi realise what heâs been missing?â She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
âFor not looking like Iâm trying too hard,â you correct her, settling on dark jeans and a simple top that manages to be both casual and flattering. âThis isnât a date.â
âWhatever you say.â She flops back on your bed. âBy the way, you should know that Mingi doesnât personally invite just anyone to these things. Especially not someone heâs been staring at across classrooms for months.â
âHe hasnât beenââ you begin, but stop when you remember all those times you felt his gaze on you in the library and the lecture hall.
âOh honey,â your roommate giggles, âfor someone so smart, you are so stupid.â
On the night of the party, you and your closet have declared war. What began as a gentle sifting through hangers two hours ago has devolved into a cyclone of black crop tops, frayed denim, and shoes you forgot you owned. Your roommateâs voice, pitch-perfect for the college musical she never auditioned for, belts a running commentary from the bed: âYou look hot in that, but hotter in the other,â and, later, âIf you donât wear that skirt, I will.â For every option you parade, she offers a one-woman panelâs worth of praise, criticism, and lewd suggestions, but when you finally emerge from the pile in a black singlet and the aforementioned denim mini, she sits up so abruptly the bedsprings squeal.
âYes,â she hollered, pointing both index fingers at you as if firing a pair of pistols, âThatâs the one! Fuck you look good.â
You tug at the hem, self-conscious. The skirt is so short your thighs feel like they might spontaneously combust with the friction of walking, and the top is cut low enough to leave no room . The outfit is, by college standards, conservative. By your standards, the edge of a personal revolution. You pace, boots heavy and loud. You layer on a thrifted blazer, then throw it off, then drape it over one arm for insurance. You sit on the edge of the bed, stand again, cross the room to the mirror, assess your reflection from the most punishing angles. You practice smiling in a way that suggests effortless fun rather than âIâm in hell and wish I were home in the comfort of my bed.â
Your roommate paints your lips red, then wipes it off with a tissue, then reapplies in a shade closer to your natural colour.
âThere,â she beams, âlike you rolled out of bed looking like this.â
You try not to look at the clock, but itâs everywhereâon your phone, on the microwave, in the stomp of boots hitting the tile as you stalk the kitchenette looking for a cup to fill, then abandon. Your hands shake when you pour yourself a glass of water. You spill some on your wrist, wipe it away, then notice your palms are already slicked with sweat.
âStop fidgeting.â Your roommateâs tone is gentle, but thereâs a note of command you recognize from years of friendship.
She takes your hands in hers, holds them steady, and says, âYouâre just going to a party. With a boy. Not even a date.â She squeezes your fingers and grins. âYou should be more excited! There might be hook-ups, or at least drama. At the very least, thereâll be free food.â
You want to laugh, but your stomach is a tight fist. Youâve spent the last three years avoiding exactly this scenarioârowdy house parties, the unwritten social contract of collegiate fun, the humiliation of standing awkwardly in a crowd of people who all seem to know exactly how to move, talk, flirt. Youâre not anti-social, not truly, but your preferred company is to be alone with your trusted circle of friends. The thought of plunging into a frat house, even for an hour, makes you want to crawl out of your skin.
And yet. Thereâs Mingi, the wild card. Heâs never made you feel like a project, or an obligation, or a checkmark on a list of collegiate experiences. When he smiles at you, it isnât the rehearsed, camera-ready grin you see him use on campus tour guides or in group photos. Itâs something softer, quieter, reserved for moments when he thinks no one else is watching. You remember the way he said âpleaseâ when he invited you, the way his eyes didnât leave yours even after you tried to look away. He made it sound like this party wasnât just another party, but an extension of the strange, fragile thing growing between the two of you. Youâre not sure you trust it, but you want, for once, to try.
You stall in the doorway, hand poised on the knob, running through possible disasters. Your roommate senses your hesitation, materializing at your side with a pep talk worthy of a sports movie.
âRemember,â she says softly, âyouâre not obligated to like it. Just survive the hour, and if you hate it, Iâll be waiting with post-party ramen and a debrief.â She presses the blazer into your hands and shoves you gently toward the elevator.
You take the stairs instead, one flight, then another, legs trembling with anticipation. The campus is alive with spring: the air is thick with the cloying perfume of flowering trees, the distant thump of bass from speakers, the migration of students in clusters, each group moving toward its own temporary destiny. You keep your head down, hoping to avoid unnecessary conversation. You find yourself counting steps, then counting heartbeats, and by the time you reach the block of houses that host the Greek life ecosystem, youâve rehearsed twenty variations of how to say hello without sounding desperate. You pass a group of girls in matching pastel tank tops, their laughter ricocheting like pinballs off the sidewalk. You duck your head, wondering if they recognize you from Intro to Business Law, but they breeze past without a second glance. In the darkness, your reflection glances back at you from every window: a stranger, confident and composed, even as anxiety gnaws at your insides.
You approach the frat house, the lights already blazing, music leaking from every crack in the siding. In the front yard, a couple makes out with the desperation of people who know theyâll regret it in the morning. A boy in a toga sprints past, pursued by a girl wielding a pool noodle. The porch is a wall of bodies, some familiar, most not, and for a moment you consider walking straight past, circling the block, and returning to your dorm in defeat.
You almost do. Youâre on the verge of turning around when your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a text from Mingi: Where are you? Iâll come out front.
Your thumb hovers over the screen. Before you can reply, the front door swings open and there he isâMingi, framed in the doorway like some ridiculous cologne advertisement. Heâs wearing dark jeans and a simple black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms that make your mouth go inexplicably dry. His hair is styled differently tonight, swept back to reveal his forehead in a way that transforms his entire face.
He scans the yard, eyes skipping past you once before snapping back, recognition dawning. When his gaze lands on you properly, something shifts in his expressionâhis confident smile faltering, eyes widening slightly.
âOh,â he says, just that one syllable hanging in the air between you. He clears his throat. âIâyouââ He stops again, seemingly unable to form a complete sentence.
You feel heat creeping up your neck, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin. âIs something wrong?â you ask, tugging self-consciously at your skirt.
The question seems to snap him out of his daze. His trademark smile returns, but thereâs something different about itâsomething genuine that settles in your chest in a way you donât quite name.
âNothingâs wrong,â he finally blurts out. âYou just look... different.â He takes a step closer. âGood different I meanâ Like really good different.â
You duck your head, unable to meet his eyes. âItâs just a skirt and top. Nothing special.â
âCouldâve fooled me,â he murmurs, and the sincerity in his voice makes your blush deepen. His confidence seems to grow in direct proportion to your bashfulness, and he extends his hand to you. âCome on. Let me introduce you to some people who arenât total disasters.â
You place your hand in his, telling yourself itâs just to be polite, but the warmth of his palm against yours sends a current up your arm. He guides you through the crowded doorway, his body naturally creating a buffer between you and the jostling partygoers. Youâre fully aware of his proximity, the cologne heâs wearing, the way his hand occasionally brushes against the small of your back as he leads you deeper into the house.
The living room has been transformed into a makeshift dance floor, furniture pushed against walls to make space. The kitchen beyond is crowded with people mixing drinks and laughing over red cups. Mingi steers you away from both, toward a slightly quieter corner where a group of guys are engaged in animated conversation.
âHey,â he calls out, and seven heads turn in perfect unison. âThis is my econ tutor, the one Iâve been telling you guys about.â
Youâre suddenly faced with an assembly of some of the most attractive men youâve ever seen in one place, each with a distinctive style that somehow works in harmony with the others. They regard you with varying expressions of curiosity and amusement.
âSo youâre the one who got our Mingi to actually open a textbook,â a guy with sharp features and an even sharper smile walks up to the both of you. âIâm Hongjoong. House president.â
âCo-president,â Mingi corrects, rolling his eyes.
âPfft whatever dude,â Hongjoong waves dismissively. âThis is Seonghwaââ he gestures to a tall, elegant-looking man who offers you a polite nod, ââYunhoââ a friendly giant with dark hair raises his cup in greeting, ââYeosangââ a guy with delicate features and knowing eyes gives you a small smile, ââSanââ an energetic man with dimples deep enough to drown in waves enthusiastically, ââWooyoungââ a mischievous-looking guy with red hair winks at you, ââand Jongho.â The last member, compact but powerful-looking, gives you a respectful bow.
âNice to finally meet the person whoâs been occupying all our friendâs time,â Wooyoung whistles.
âAnd thoughts,â San adds, earning him a death glare from Mingi.
You shift uncomfortably under their collective gaze, but their smiles are genuine, lacking the judgment you expected from Mingiâs inner circle.
âDonât believe anything they tell you about me,â Mingi says, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your ear. âEspecially Wooyoung. Heâs a pathological liar.â
âNuh uh, thatâs just not true!â Wooyoung protests. âI only lie on Tuesdays and public holidays.â
The group erupts in laughter, and to your surprise, you find yourself laughing along. Thereâs an easy camaraderie among them that feels inclusive rather than exclusive, drawing you in despite your reservations.
âMingi says youâre top of the econ department,â Seonghwa mentioned, his voice calm and measured. âThatâs impressive.â
Before you can respond, Yunho chimes in: âHe wouldnât shut up about how you explained game theory using poker analogies. Said it was ârevolutionaryâ or some shit.â
âI did not say revolutionary,â Mingi denies, but the pink tinging his ears tells a different story.
âYou did,â Jongho confirms flatly. âMultiple times. Over breakfast.â
You glance at Mingi, oddly touched that heâs spoken about your tutoring sessions to his friends. âIt wasnât anything special. Heâs actually really quick to grasp concepts once theyâre explained properly.â
Mingi grins at the group. âSee? I told you guys Iâm not just a pretty face.â He sticks his tongue out at them, more out of habit than real offence.
âNo one said you were just a pretty face,â Hongjoong replies, tone even. âWe said youâre a pretty face that just so happened to be a little bit stupid.â
Mingi scoffs under his breath, but heâs smiling anyway. âThatâs not better.â
âItâs accurate,â Hongjoong snorted.
The banter continues, and you find yourself relaxing into it, surprised by how comfortable you feel among them. Theyâre not what you expectedânot the stereotypical frat boys youâve spent years avoiding. Theyâre smart, funny, and surprisingly thoughtful in their questions to you.
After a while, Mingi leans in again. âHow are you feeling? Do you want a drink? Or maybe some air?â
You nod gratefully. âFresh air would be nice.â
He places his hand lightly on your back again, guiding you toward a set of French doors that lead to a back deck. The night air is cool against your skin, a welcome respite from the heat of bodies packed inside. The deck is strung with fairy lights that cast a soft glow over the wooden boards, and surprisingly, itâs empty except for a few potted plants.
âThe secret balcony,â Mingi explains, seeing your questioning look. âOff-limits to regular party guests. One of the perks of being house leadership.â
âSo Iâm not a regular party guest?â you raise an eyebrow, leaning against the railing.
âOf course not, you are far from it,â he mutters under his breath that makes your breath falter.
You both fall silent for a moment, the bass from inside creating a muted heartbeat beneath your conversation. You canât quite decide whatâs more surprisingâthat youâre here like this, or that itâs with Mingi of all people. You settle on not thinking too hard about either.
âYour friends are nice,â you finally break the silence. âNot what I expected.â
âWhat did you expect?â He leans next to you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.
âLoud, obnoxious frat bros talking about the typical one night stand and having the collective IQ of a houseplant.â
He laughs, the sound warm and genuine. âOh, they can be loud and obnoxious too. But theyâre also the best people I know.â
He pauses, looking out over the dimly-lit yard. âWe all have our reasons for being here, you know? Hongjoongâs parents expected him to join their firm right after high school, but he wanted to go to college first. Seonghwa supports his younger siblings through school. Jonghoâs on a full academic scholarship.â
You turn to look at him, surprised by this glimpse behind the fraternity façade. âAnd you? Whatâs your reason?â
Heâs quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice has lost its usual confident edge. âMy grandfather, the one I told you about, He was the first person in our family to go to college. He wanted to see me graduate more than anything.â His fingers tap against the railing, a nervous gesture youâve never seen from him before. âHe passed away during my senior year of high school.â
âOh Iâm sorry,â you say softly.
âItâs okay. I mean, itâs not, but...â He went on. âI promised him Iâd make the most of college. Not just academically, but the whole experience. The brotherhood, the leadership opportunities, all of it.â
âIs that why youâre so determined to keep your GPA up? For your scholarship?â
âPartly,â he admits. âMainly because I donât want to just be the party guy, you know? I want people to realise Iâm capable and somewhat intelligent.âÂ
Without really thinking about it, you close the remaining distance just enough for your hand to brush his. Itâs tentative at first, almost accidental. When he doesnât pull away, your fingers curl lightly around his. Mingi stills. For someone whoâs always in motion, always talking, always performing, the sudden quiet in him is striking. His gaze drops to where your hands are joined, like heâs trying to process it, like thisâyouâis the one thing he never quite learned how to anticipate.
âItâs not a bad thing,â you say softly, your thumb brushing once, unconsciously, over his knuckles. âWanting people to see more than what meets the eye.â
His hand shifts in yours, not pulling awayâsettling. Grounding.
âI know what itâs like,â you add, quieter now. âBeing reduced to something simple. Convenient. Even if itâs⌠impressive on paper.â
That earns a small huff of laughter from him, but malice behind it. Just something tired, something honest.
âYeah,â he murmurs. âGuess weâre both victims of stereotyping huh.â
You smile faintly. âI guess we are.â
And then it hits you. The warmth. The contact. The fact that your hand is still wrapped around his. Your fingers twitch slightly, awareness crashing in all at once, and you pull backâjust a little too quickly to be entirely casual. The absence of him is immediate, the cool night air slipping into the space where his warmth had been. Mingi notices. Of course he does. Something flickers across his face, it was subtle but you saw it there momentarily. A small dip at the corner of his mouth, a hesitation like he almost reaches for you again before stopping himself. Itâs gone just as quickly, replaced by something lighter, easier, like heâs filing the moment away instead of questioning it. He clears his throat, glancing out in the distance.Â
âCareful,â he teases. âKeep doing that and I might start thinking you actually like me.â
You scoff, grateful for the shift. âDonât get ahead of yourself.â
âTragic,â he sighs dramatically. âHere I was, planning our future.â
âIn your dreams.â
âBold of you to assume youâre not already there.â
You roll your eyes, but a laugh escapes you anyway, the tension dissolving into something softer, more familiar. For a moment, you simply stand together in comfortable silence, watching the party unfold below. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the angles youâve studied during countless tutoring sessions.
âCan I ask you something?â he says finally, turning to face you.
âYou just did.â
He rolls his eyes. âWhy did you agree to tutor me? I asked some other people in our class and they said you turned them down.â
You consider the question, surprised by his awareness of your other rejections. âHonestly? You seemed desperate. Plus you actually pay me on time.â
âOuch,â he winces, but his smile remains. âAt least youâre honest.â
âWhy did you ask me?â you counter. âThere are plenty of other tutors on campus.â
He looks down at his hands, suddenly serious. âYou were the only one who looked at me and didnât see what everyone else saw.â
âAnd whatâs that?â
âYou know the usual stereotypes,â He shrugs, a gesture that carries more weight than it should. âEveryone thinks they know me because they hear all about my reputation.â
Something in his tone makes you pause, recognizing a sentiment that echoes your own experience. âI get that,â you say quietly. âPeople are like that with me too. They think what we are at face value is what we truly are.â
âIsnât it?â His question is gentle, not challenging.
You shake your head. âNo more than youâre just a frat boy who happens to look good in a button-down.â
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours, âYou think I look good?â
âDonât fish for compliments,â you scold as you bite back a smile. âYour ego is big enough already.â
âThere you go again, humbling me.â His gaze softens as he steps closer. âI like that about you. You never let me get away with anything.â
You tilt your head, crossing your arms loosely. âYeah? I know thereâs a lot of things you like about me.â
His eyebrows lift, a slow grin spreading across his face. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you continue, feigning nonchalance. âMy intelligence. My work ethic. My incredible patience for difficult studentsââ
ââwoah, woah,â he cuts in, laughing. âWhen did this turn into a self-evaluation?â
âYou asked,â you shoot back. âIâm just being thorough.â
He steps closer, close enough now that the teasing edge softens into something warmer. âYou missed a few.â
âOh?â you raise an eyebrow. âEnlighten me.â
âThe way you pretend not to care,â he responded quietly. âBut still show up anyway.â
Your breath catches slightly, but you recover. âThatâs not a quality. Thatâs just⌠basic decency.â
âMm,â he hums, unconvinced. âAnd the way you look at me when you think Iâm not paying attention.â
You freeze. âI do notââ
âYou do,âÂ
You swallow, your voice coming out just above a whisper. âWhat does that look mean, according to you?â
He studies you for a moment, like heâs debating whether to say it.
âLike youâre trying really hard not to like me.â
Your heart stumbles over itself.
âThatâs a bold assumption,â you manage.
âIs it, doll?âÂ
Thereâs barely any space left between you now. Youâre aware of everything. How close he was to you, the warmth radiating off him, the way his gaze drops briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. Your own breath feels too loud in your chest.
âThis feels like youâre fishing for compliments again,â you say, but your voice lacks its usual bite.
âMaybe,â he admits easily. âOnly from you, though.â
The honesty of it lands heavier than it should. Your fingers twitch at your side, like they remember what it felt like to hold his hand. Like they want to again.
âMingiââ you start, though youâre not entirely sure what youâre going to say.
He leans in slightly. Not rushed. Not cocky. Careful. Like heâs giving you time to stop him. You donât. Your eyes flick down to his lips for just a secondâlong enough for him to noticeâand thatâs all it takes. The air shifts, something unspoken settling between you as you both lean in, slow and almost hesitantâ
âYo! Mingi!â
The moment shatters. You both jerk back slightly as the deck door swings open. Wooyoung steps out, slightly breathless, eyes flicking between the two of you with immediate recognitionâand absolutely zero subtlety.
âOh shit,â he says, smirking. âAm I interrupting something?â
âWhat do you think?,â Mingi says flatly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
âTragic,â his red haired friend replies, not looking sorry in the slightest. âHongjoongâs looking for you. Something about the DJ setup dying and you being âuseless but still required.ââ
Mingi closes his eyes briefly, exhaling. âOf course he is.â
Wooyoung gaze shifts back to you, smile softening. âHey, youâre staying, right? Itâs just getting good.â
You hesitate. And Mingi notices.
His attention snaps back to you, something apologetic in his expression. âIâgive me ten minutes? Iâll come find you.â
You glance toward the house, the noise, the crowd, the overwhelming swirl of everything youâve been holding at bay all night. Then back at him. At the almost-kiss still lingering in the space between you. By the way your chest feels too full, too tight, like you donât quite know what to do with everything youâre suddenly feeling.
âI thinkâŚâ you start, then pause, shaking your head slightly. âI should probably head out.â
His expression drops, just a fraction. âAlready?â
âI stayed longer than I planned,â you say, offering a small smile. âI have an early morning.â
Itâs a weak excuse. You both know it. But he doesnât call you out on it. Instead, he nods slowly, stepping back just enough to give you spaceâeven if he doesnât seem to want t
âRight. Yeah. Of course.â He rubs the back of his neck. âThanks for coming. I can walk youââ
âNo need, I can see myself out,â you reply softly. âThanks for inviting me, I had a really good time.âÂ
Thereâs a beat. Something unfinished is hanging between you.
âGet home safe,â he adds, quieter now.
âI will.â
You turn before you can overthink it. Before you can look at him again and change your mind and make your way back through the house. The music feels louder now, the lights harsher, the press of bodies more suffocating than before. By the time you step outside into the cool night air, your head is spinning. Not from the party. From him. From the way he looked at you like that. You exhale slowly, starting down the path back to your dorm, your fingers curling slightly at your sides.
Your key turns in the lock with a sharp click that echoes through the empty hallway. The walk back to your dorm passed in a blur. Your mind replaying those moments on the deck over and over, his face so close to yours, the almost-kiss thatâs now branded into your memory as a question mark.
Your roommate looks up from her laptop, eyes widening when she sees you. âYouâre back early! I thoughtââ She pauses, taking in your expression. âWhat happened?â
You drop your bag and collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. âI think I just made a huge mistake.â
âWhat did he do? Babe I swear if he tried anythingââ Sheâs immediately on alert, sitting up straighter.
âNo,â you shake your head, pressing your palms against your eyes. âThe opposite. He was... perfect. His friends were really nice, funny too. The party wasnât terrible. And we almost kissed, and then IâI ran away.â
âYou what?â She scrambles off her bed and sits next to you. âBack up. You almost kissed him and then you left?â
âWe got interrupted, and then I just... panicked.â You sit up, hugging your knees to your chest. âI donât know whatâs happening to me.â
Your roommate studies your face, her expression softening into something you havenât seen beforeâconcern mixed with understanding.Â
âHoly shit,â she mumbled. âYou like him.â
âNo,â you protest automatically, then trail off. âMaybe. Shit. I donât know?â Your voice muffles as you bury your face in your hands. âThis is so stupid. Iâve spent years avoiding guys exactly like him.â
âExcept heâs not exactly like anyone, is he?â She nudges your shoulder gently. âNot if heâs got you this fucked up.â
You groan. âThatâs the problem. Heâs supposed to be this shallow frat boy who only cares about parties and hookups, but then he goes and talks about his grandfather and his friends and looks at me likeâlikeââ
âLike what?â she prompts.
âLike I matter,â you cried out, wiping away the tears from your face. âNot just as a tutor or someone to boost his grade. Like he actually enjoys my company.â
Sheâs quiet for a moment, then says, âIâve never seen you like this over anyone before.â
âThatâs because Iâve never felt like this before,â you admit, the words coming out in a rush. âIâve probably ruined it by running away like some character in a bad rom-com.â
âYou donât understand.â You get up, pacing the small space between your beds. âI had this whole image of him in my headâŚthis whole narrative about who he was and what he wanted. It was so much easier when I could just dismiss him as just some guy. But heâs not, and now I donât know what to do with that.â
âMaybe you could try, oh I donât know, talking to him?â Your roommate suggests, her tone gently teasing you as she hands you a tissue.
âAnd say what? âSorry I ran away when we were about to kiss, Iâm just terrified because I might actually like youâ?â
âThat sounds like a start.â
You collapse back onto your bed with a groan. âI fucked up so bad.â
âMaybe,â she concedes, âbut not irreparably.â She picks up your phone from where you dropped it and holds it out to you. âText him.â
You stare at the phone like it might bite you. âLike now?â
âYes, now. Before you overthink it even more than you already have.â
Your fingers hover over the screen, hesitant. âWhat do I even say?â
âThe truth,â she says simply. âOr at least part of it.â
You take a deep breath and start typing, deleting, typing again. After what feels like an eternity, you hit send on a simple message: Sorry for leaving so abruptly. Ty for tonight.
The response comes faster than you expected, your phone buzzing in your hand almost immediately: All good. Did u get home safe?
Something in your chest loosens just slightly. Heâs still talking to you, at least. You type back: Yea, made it back like 5 mins ago.
Three dots appear, disappear, appear again: Can I call you tomorrow?
Your heart does a strange little flip. âHe wants to call me tomorrow,â you tell your roommate, your voice sounding strange even to your own ears.
She grins. âSee? Not ruined.â
You type back a quick âSureâ before you can second-guess yourself.
His response is just as quick: Good. Sleep well, doll.
Despite everything, you find yourself smiling at the nickname. Your roommate peers over your shoulder, reading the exchange.
âOh, youâve got it bad,â she says jokingly. âFrom the looks of it, so does he.â
âThis is such a mess,â you sigh, but thereâs less despair in it now. âIâm supposed to be the level-headed one. The one who doesnât get caught up in... whatever this is.â
âMaybe thatâs exactly why you need this,â she suggests, returning to her own bed. âWhen was the last time you did something just because it made you feel good, not because it was the smart, practical choice?â
You donât have an answer for that. As you lie in bed, sleep eluding you, you replay the night in your head. The way Mingi looked at you on that deck, the warmth of his hand in yours, the honesty in his voice when he talked about wanting to be seen as more than his reputation. You think about how easily you could have stayed, how different the night might have ended if you had just stayed with him.
Morning arrives with harsh sunlight streaming through half-closed blinds and the persistent buzz of your alarm. The day crawls by in a strange haze. You go through the motionsâcatch up on any missed lecture notes, meet with your friends, grab lunch at the campus cafĂŠâbut everything feels slightly off-kilter. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket, conspicuously silent.
âHe said heâd call,â you mutter to yourself during lunch, checking your notifications for the fifth time in an hour.
By mid-afternoon, anxiety has settled into a knot in your stomach. Was leaving the party abruptly really such a dealbreaker? Or worseâwas the almost-kiss just another moment for him, easily forgotten once you walked away?
Your roommate finds you hunched over economics papers in your dorm, highlighter poised but motionless over the same paragraph youâve been staring at for twenty minutes.
âStill nothing?âÂ
You shake your head, trying to appear more focused on your work than you actually are. âItâs fine. Heâs probably busy with frat stuff.â
âHeâs nursing a hangover,â she mused, flopping onto her bed. âThose parties donât exactly end early.â
âYeah, probably.â You force your attention back to your notes, determined not to care.
The sun begins to set, casting long shadows across your desk. Youâve moved on to grading papers for the professor you TA for, a task that usually requires your full concentration. Tonight, however, each essay blurs into the next as your mind wanders back to the deck, to Mingiâs face inches from yours. At 7:38 PM, your phone finally rings. You nearly knock over your coffee reaching for it, heart leaping into your throat when you see his name on the screen. Taking a deep breath, you answer with what you hope is casual nonchalance.
âHello?â
âHey.â His voice comes through warm and slightly hesitant. âIs this a bad time?â
âNo, just grading some papers.â You lean back in your chair, trying to ignore how your pulse has quickened. âHow was your day?â
âLong,â he admits with a soft laugh. âHad to deal with some post-party clean up that was... not ideal.â
âSounds rough,â you say, picturing the chaos that must have followed after you left.
Thereâs a brief pause before he speaks again. âListen, I was wondering if youâd want to grab some ice cream? Thereâs this place near the science building that stays open late.â
You glance at your half-finished work, then at the clock. âNow?â
âYeah, if youâre not too busy. I just...â He hesitates. âI think we should talk. In person.â
Your stomach drops. Those words never precede anything good.
âOh,â you manage. âSure. I could use a break anyway.â
âGreat.â The relief in his voice is palpable. âMeet you there in twenty?â
âMake it thirty,â you say, already mentally cataloguing what youâre wearingâsweatpants and an oversized university hoodie, not exactly what youâd choose for whatever conversation is coming.
After hanging up, you change quickly into jeans and a sweater thatâs slightly more presentable, running a brush through your hair and dabbing on lip balm before you can question why youâre bothering. Your roommate watches with barely concealed amusement.
âJust ice cream, huh?â
âShut up,â you mutter, grabbing your keys. âHe probably just wants to clear the air so tutoring isnât awkward.â
She raises an eyebrow. âSure. Thatâs definitely it.â
The walk to the ice cream shop takes exactly twelve minutesânot that youâre counting. When you arrive, you spot Mingi immediately, leaning against the wall outside. He straightens when he sees you, his expression brightening in a way that makes your heart stutter.
âHey,â he greets you, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. âThanks for coming.â
âFor free ice cream? Iâd be an idiot if I refused.â You aim for lightness, but your voice comes out slightly strained.
Inside, the shop is nearly empty, just a couple of students hunched over laptops in the corner. Mingi insists on paying despite your protests, and soon youâre seated at a small table by the window, a scoop of chocolate chip melting slowly in your cup. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You focus intently on your ice cream, hyperaware of his presence across from you.
âSo uh,â he finally breaks the tension, setting down his spoon. âAbout last night.â
You look up to find him watching you, his expression more serious than youâve ever seen it. âWhat about it?â you ask, playing for time.
He leans forward slightly. âI wanted to make sure I didnât... misread things.â
Heat rises to your cheeks. âYou didnât,â you admit quietly.
Relief flickers across his face. âThen why did you leave?â
The directness of the question catches you off guard. You consider deflecting, making a joke, but something in his eyesâan earnestness youâre not used to seeingâmakes you opt for honesty.
âI got scared,â you say simply.
His brow furrows. âOf me?â
âNo.â You shake your head. âNo this. Whatever is happening between us.â You gesture vaguely, as if that could dissolve it. âIt wasnât part of the plan.â
âThe plan?â he echoes.
âMy plan,â you clarify. âGraduate top of my class, get into a top-tier MBA program, no distractions.â You poke at your melting ice cream.
The words come easier than they should, like youâve said them enough times to believe theyâre ironclad. You scoop a fragile curl of choc chip into your mouth, watching it soften instantly, the chill doing nothing to settle the rest of you.
Mingi doesnât look away. But something shifts in his expressionâsubtle, unreadable.
âYou think this is a distraction,â he says quietly, like heâs testing the shape of the idea. Thereâs no bitterness in it, just a blunt apprehension that makes you want to fold in on yourself.
The words thud between you, heavier than any textbook youâve ever carried. You set your spoon down, forced to confront the truth youâve been working so hard to avoid: it would be much simpler if you could blame him. If the whole thing could be chalked up to a fluke in your otherwise disciplined trajectory: a blip, a party, a night on a deck that would fade with the semester. However, the real distraction is the way your mind keeps circling back to him even when heâs not there, the way your heart does that ridiculous stutter every time you see his name on your screen, the wayâsitting here with him nowâyou feel some distant tectonic plate in your chest begin to shift. You hesitate. Then, because youâve already started, you let it spill anyway.
âItâs not just that,â you admit. âI never planned on⌠this happening at all. And I definitely never thought youâdââ You stop yourself, exhaling a short, humourless breath. âLike, someone like me.â
His brow furrows slightly. âSomeone like you?â
You gesture faintly, as if the words make sense on their own. âYou know. You. Me. I justâ I always assumed you wouldnât go for someone like me. That you wouldnât even look twice.â
The admission sits between you, heavier than you intended. Mingi leans back slightly, hands folding together, but not in his usual relaxed way. More like heâs trying to steady something. Then he lets out a breathâhalf laugh, half disbelief.
âIâve been trying so hard to get you to notice me.â He says, shaking his head once.
You blink. âWhat?â
He looks at you properly now, like the answer shouldâve been obvious all along. âYou think Iâm out of your league,â he says, almost incredulous. âI thought you were out of mine.â
That makes you go still. Before you can respond, he continues, voice softer now.
âYouâreââ He stops, like the word itself isnât enough. âYouâre genuinely one of the most interesting people Iâve met. And youâre not just smart, youâreâŚâ He exhales through his nose, like he hates how obvious it is. âYouâre really fucking beautiful. And your brain? Thatâs honestly the most attractive part of you. I thought people were dramatic when they said intelligence was sexy, man I was so wrong.â
Your breath catches, and you hate that it does.
âI like what we are,â he adds, a little quieter. âThe banter, the way you talk back to me, the way you donât justââ He gestures vaguely, searching for the word. âFold. Itâs fun. Itâs different. Itâs⌠real.â
The honesty lands clumsily, unpolished in a way that feels impossible to fake. You look down at your ice cream before it fully melts.
âThatâs⌠not what I expected you to say,â you admit.
âYeah,â he says, a small, self-aware smile tugging at his mouth. âJoin the club.â
âI know itâs unfair to judge you based on campus gossip, but...â You take a deep breath. âIâm scared of being just another story people whisper about in bathroom stalls.â
Mingi reaches across the table, his fingers hovering near yours without quite touching. âCan I?â he asks quietly.
You nod, and his warm hand covers yours, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
âListen to me,â he says, voice low and serious. âI wonât pretend I havenât made mistakes. I have. But Iâve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.â His eyes hold yours, unwavering.
âHow can I know that?â you whisper, voicing the fear thatâs been lodged in your chest since the moment on the deck.
âLet me prove it to you,â he says with such conviction that your throat tightens. âNot with words or promises, but with time. With consistency.â His grip on your hand tightens slightly. âIâm not asking you to trust me completely right away. Iâm asking for a chance to earn that trust.â
You study his face, searching for any sign of the practiced charm youâve seen him deploy across campus. All you find is raw sincerity that makes your heart race.
âWhat exactly are you suggesting?â
âLet me show you who I really am,â a small, vulnerable smile touches his lips. âI promise Iâll put all those stupid rumours to rest. No pressure, no expectations.â
âIf it doesnât work out?â The practical part of your brain needs to know thereâs an exit strategy.
âThen we go back to being tutor and student, friends if you want,â he says, though something flickers in his eyes that suggests it wouldnât be that simple for him. âI think we at least owe ourselves the chance to find out.â
You look down at your joined hands, feeling yourself wavering on the precipice of something that terrifies and thrills you in equal measure.
âOkay,â you find yourself saying, the word slipping out before you can overthink it. âIâll give us a chance.â
The smile that breaks across his face is nothing like his usual confident grin. Itâs wider, brighter, almost boyish in its genuine delight.
âYeah?â he asks, as if he canât quite believe it.
âYeah,â you confirm, a small smile forming on your own lips. âBut I have conditions.â
He laughs softly, squeezing your hand. âOf course you do. Iâd be disappointed if you didnât have any.â
âWe take it slow,â you say firmly. âFor now, this is just between us. Iâm not ready to tell everyone about us just yet.â
âAbsolutely,â he agrees immediately. âWhat else?â
âIf at any point I feel like this is becoming too muchââ
âWe reassess,â he finishes for you. âI understand.â
You nod, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. âOne more thing.â
âName it.â
âNo more surprise coffees during tutoring,â you let out a laugh, you hope that he doesnât take this rule too seriously.Â
He clutches his chest dramatically. âWow. Mind you, those were gifts from the heart.â
âThe heart doesnât need caffeine to function properly,â you counter.
âDebatable,â he grins, then grows serious again. âI promise to uphold all the boundaries that you have. If at any point you want outs, just say the word and we can call it off.â
Thereâs something in his voiceâa quiet determinationâthat makes you believe him, despite all your carefully constructed defences.
âSo,â he wonders, leaning forward slightly, ânow that weâve established the ground rules... Can I walk you home?â
âThat would be nice,â you smile, finishing the last of your now-soupy ice cream.
Outside, the night air is cool against your skin. Your campus is quiet at this hour, most students either at the library or locked in their rooms studying. Mingi walks beside you, close enough that your arms occasionally brush, sending little sparks of awareness through you each time. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence as you walk side by side through the moonlit campus. Your mind races with everything thatâs just happenedâthe confessions, the promises, the beginning of something neither of you had planned. Mingiâs hand occasionally brushes against yours, each contact sending little jolts through your system, but he doesnât try to hold it. True to his word, heâs letting you set the pace.
âSo,â he says as you approach your dormitory, âI was thinking maybe we could get dinner? Whenever youâre free⌠O-of course.â
The earnestness in his voice makes your heart flutter. âIâd love to.â
You stop at the entrance to your building, turning to face him. The lamplight catches in his dark eyes, making them shine with something that looks suspiciously like hope.
âThank you,â you mumbled quietly.
His brow furrows slightly. âFor what?â
âFor being patient and understanding.â You shift your weight, suddenly feeling shy.Â
A smile curves his lips. âIâm full of surprises.â
âIâm beginning to see that.â
Thereâs a moment of hesitation. A breath where you both stand looking at each other, the air between you charged with possibility. You make a decision, stepping forward before you can overthink it. Rising slightly on your toes, you press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
âGoodnight, Mingi,â you murmur, pulling back to see his eyes wide with surprise.
âGoodnight,â he coughs out, voice slightly rougher than before.
You turn quickly, swiping your keycard and slipping through the door before you can change your mind. Once inside, you canât resist glancing back through the glass panel. Mingi stands frozen for a moment, hand raised to the spot where your lips touched his skin. Then, when he thinks youâve gone, a transformation takes place. The cool, confident frat president dissolves into something entirely different. He pumps his fist in the air, does a little spin, and breaks into what can only be described as a victory danceâall limbs and unbridled joy, like a kid who just got exactly what he wanted for his birthday. He runs his hands through his hair, grinning so wide it must hurt, before composing himself and walking away with an extra bounce in his step. You press your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh. Something warm blooms in your chest at the sight of himâcampus heartbreaker, fraternity president, supposed playerâcelebrating a simple kiss on the cheek like itâs the greatest achievement of his life.
Maybe thereâs more to him than you ever allowed yourself to see.
The following weeks unfold in a series of moments that feel stolen from someone elseâs life. Mingi keeps his promise about taking things slow, but he finds other ways to show you heâs serious.
It starts with little things. A sticky note on your economics textbook when you leave it unattended for two minutes in the library: âStudy Well!.â A cup of tea waiting for you before an early morning class, with honey already added the way you mentioned you like it once in passing.
Your tutoring sessions continue, but thereâs a new undercurrent to them now. You maintain professionalismâmostlyâbut sometimes his fingers brush yours when youâre explaining a concept, lingering just a second too long to be accidental. Sometimes you catch him watching you with a softness in his eyes that makes your chest ache in the best way.
âFocus,â you scold during one such session, tapping your pencil against his notebook. âOur midterms are in coming up soon.â
âI am focusing,â he protests, eyes never leaving your face. âJust not on economics.â
You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. âLooking at me isnât going to help boost your GPA.â
âIf it means looking at the prettiest girl in the room, itâs worth it,â he shrugs and the sincerity in his voice makes heat rise to your cheeks.
Walking with him after your brain numbing study sessions become so integral to your guysâ routine. It feels a little strange at first but when Mingiâs hand tentatively finds yours, all the stress melts away at his touch.
âYou know,â he says during one such walk, âkeeping you secret is killing me. The guys think Iâve gone celibate or something.â
You elbow him gently. âYour reputation could use the hit.â
âTrue,â he laughs, squeezing your hand. âFor the record, this is the longest Iâve gone without posting on social media in ages.â
Mingi has been careful about keeping your relationship private. No Instagram stories featuring your coffee dates, no posts of your study sessions that sometimes devolve into conversations about everything and nothing. Just the two of you, learning each other in private moments stolen between classes and responsibilities.
One rainy Tuesday, he shows up at your dorm with takeout from your favorite Thai place and a stack of economics flash cards he made himself.
âI figured we could multitask,â he beams, setting up the food on your desk.Â
Your roommate, whoâs been watching this unfold with barely concealed delight, grabs her jacket. âAnd thatâs my cue to give you two some privacy,â she announces, winking at you on her way out.
Once sheâs gone, Mingi turns to you with a sheepish smile. âToo much?â
You shake your head, oddly touched by the gesture. âNo, itâs perfect. Iâm just not used to anyone doing this for me.â
His expression softens. âWell that's too bad, doll, start getting used to it.â
The study session is productiveâmostly. At first, the two of you really do focus, perched shoulder to shoulder with a blanket across your knees, pencils poised as you quiz each other from the stack of flash cards. For a solid twenty minutes, you run through concepts, definitions, and theoretical graphs, congratulating each other with exaggerated fist bumps for every correct answer. Mingi is sharp, more so than you expected, but he keeps getting tripped up on the same three formulas, and each time he stumbles, you make him recite them from memory until he gets it right. By the fourth round, youâre both dissolving into laughter at his increasingly creative mnemonic devices.
Eventually, the flash cards are abandoned in favor of pad thai and mango sticky rice. You eat cross-legged on the floor, passing the container back and forth, chopsticks clacking as the conversation drifts from academics to childhood memories, to music, to the merits of various ramen brands. Mingi tells you a story about getting locked in a janitorâs closet during a fraternity scavenger hunt, and you laugh so hard you nearly spill sweet chili sauce all over your leggings. He grins, watching you with open affection, and you feel your defenses slipping a little more with each shared story, each easy silence.
You mean to get back to studying, really you do, but by the time your plates are empty, youâre both sprawled out on the rug, heads tipped together, trading lazy jokes and favorite movie quotes. The stack of flash cards lies forgotten somewhere behind you. Mingi stretches his arm behind your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. Youâre acutely aware that you said you wanted to take things slow, but now, in the soft glow of your desk lamp, with rain pattering gently against the window, slow feels less like a rule and more like a suggestion.
At some point, you roll onto your side to face him. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you resist the urge to reach over and smooth it down. He catches the look in your eyes and grins, that same vulnerable curve of mouth you saw outside your dorm, and you realize youâre not even sure what youâre waiting for anymore. The next hour is a blur of tangled limbs, whispered jokes, and the kind of laughter that leaves your ribs aching. You donât kissâat least, not on the lipsâbut you end up with your head tucked against his shoulder, his hand tracing idle, feather-light circles on your back as you drift in and out of half-sleep. The textbooks are forgotten, the only thing that matters is the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath and the way it syncs perfectly with yours.
You donât let him stay the night but you walk him to the door at midnight, both of you lingering in the hallway far longer than necessary.
âTomorrow again?â he asks, voice low.
âTomorrow,â you echo, smiling so hard it almost hurts.
You close the door behind him and press your forehead to the wood, equal parts giddy and terrified at how easy this is starting to feel.
Thatâs how it goes, week after week. Study sessions that turn into late-night conversations, walks that stretch on for hours, endless cups of tea and takeout and inside jokes that no one else would ever find funny. You find yourself looking for him everywhere: in the crowd of the dining hall, in the hush of the library at midnight, in the flicker of lamplight outside your window when you canât sleep. Every time he appears, it feels like a secret only the two of you share. You start to notice the little ways he tries to care for you. The umbrella he brings when the forecast calls for rain, the pack of your favourite pens he leaves in your backpack before a big test, the playlist he makes for your morning runs, even though he canât stand three-quarters of your âmotivationalâ music. You tell yourself not to read into any of it, but you do. Youâre hopelessly, helplessly reading into every tiny thing.
The night before your economics midterm, you meet up in the libraryâs quietest corner, both of you vibrating with nerves. He brings snacks and a fresh stack of flash cards, all hand-written in his messy scrawl, and the two of you settle in for a marathon review. For once, you manage to stay on task, quizzing each other with increasing intensity until youâre both exhausted. When the clock chimes one in the morning, you start to pack up, but Mingi hesitates, his hand hovering over the pile of books.
âYouâre going to ace it,â he says, voice unexpectedly earnest.
You shake your head, smiling. âOnly if you donât distract me during the exam.â
âThatâs going to be impossible,â he laughs, but thereâs something softer in his eyes. âIâll try my best.â
You snort, shouldering your bag. âI sure hope so.â
As you walk him out into the silent quad, he reaches for your handânot tentative anymore, not asking permission, just doing it. You let him. The campus is empty, the sky ink-black and starless, and it feels like the entire world has narrowed to just the two of you, hands entwined, hearts beating a little too fast. He stops at the steps of your dorm, pulling you in for a hug that lasts a few seconds longer than normal. You memorize the feeling: the way his arms wrap around you, how he smells like detergent and the faintest hint of aftershave, the way his cheek fits perfectly against your temple. He reminds you to get some sleep, even as he lingers like he has no real intention of leaving just yet. You echo the sentiment back to him, a quiet reminder about his final. Thereâs a brief pauseâsomething unspoken stretching between youâbefore you part with a soft, almost reluctant goodbye, the kind that feels less like an ending and more like something paused.
The morning of the midterm arrives with an electric tension in the air. You walk into the lecture hall, scanning the rows of nervous students until you spot Mingi. Heâs hunched over his notes, frantically reviewing formulas, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. When he sees you, his face brightens momentarily before anxiety clouds his features again.
âDoll, I canât remember anything,â he whispers as you slide into the seat beside him. âItâs all just... gone.â
You reach over and gently close his textbook. âHey, breathe. You know this material better than you think.â
âEasy for you to say.â His voice cracks slightly. âWhat if I blank? What if everything we worked on just disappears the moment I see the test?â
You take his trembling hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. âLook at me. Youâve put in the work. You understand the concepts. Trust yourself.â
He exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. âI just... I canât mess this up. Not after everything.â
âYou wonât,â you say with such conviction that he almost seems to believe you. âRemember what you told me about game theory? Itâs not about the cards, itâs aboutââ
ââunderstanding the patterns,â he finishes, a small smile forming. âThe incentives.â
âExactly. And youâve got this. I know you do.â
Professor Kim enters the room, silencing the anxious chatter. As she distributes the exams, Mingi gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go. You mouth âgood luckâ to him before turning to your own test.
The exam is challenging, even for you. Two hours of intense concentration, complex problems, and theoretical applications that make your brain ache. Occasionally, you glance at Mingi. His brow is furrowed in concentration, pencil moving steadily across the paper. No panic, no hesitation. Just focused determination that fuels your own.
When time is called, you feel drained but satisfied. Mingi looks up from his paper, meeting your eyes across the room with an expression of cautious optimism.
âHowâd it go?â you ask as you both file out of the lecture hall.
âI think... I think it went okay,â he says, sounding almost surprised. âThat section on monopolistic competition? I nailed it.â
âSee? I told you.â
He laughs, running a hand through his hair. âYeah, yeah. Donât get cocky just because you were right. Again.â
Three days after the exam, your phone lights up with his name: Grades are posted, lock in.
Your fingers fly across the screen as you log into the portal. There it is: Econ1000 - Final Grade: A+. Not surprising, but satisfying nonetheless. Youâre about to text him back when another message comes through: Can we meet? Iâm outside your building.
Your heart races as you rush down the stairs. Mingi is pacing outside, face unreadable. When he sees you, he stops, and for a terrible moment, you think heâs failed.
âMingi? What happened? Are youââ
His face breaks into the widest grin youâve ever seen. âI got an A, I did it!â
Relief and joy flood through you as he picks you up in a spinning hug that lifts your feet off the ground. âI knew you could do it!â you laugh, arms wrapped around his neck.
âI couldnât have done it without you,â he says, setting you down but keeping his hands on your waist.Â
âHey give yourself some credit, you did all the work,â you counter, unable to stop smiling. âI just provided occasional guidanceââ
ââAnd motivation, patience, and belief when I had none.â His expression grows serious despite his smile. âThank you.â
You feel your cheeks warm under his intense gaze. âYouâre welcome.â
He takes a deep breath, a flicker of nervousness crossing his featuresâsomething youâve rarely seen from him. âSo, I was thinking...â he begins, his hands sliding from your waist but not completely letting go, fingers lightly brushing against yours. âMaybe we could celebrate properly? Tonight?â
âWhat did you have in mind?â you ask, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.
âDinner,â he says simply. Then adds, with uncharacteristic hesitation, âAt an actual restaurant with fancy ass menus and shit.â His eyes meet yours, surprisingly earnest. âA date. Just you and me.â
The word âdateâ hangs between you, weighted with meaning. These weren't the standard study sessions or casual hangouts anymore. He wanted to take you out to dinner.
âA date,â you repeat, testing how the words feel.
âYes.â He nods, watching your face carefully. âI want to take you somewhere nice. To celebrate, but also because...â He pauses, thumb brushing over your knuckles. âI just want to treat you to a good meal, feels like the right thing to do.â
You laugh, the tension in your chest dissolving into something warm and bright. âIn that case, yes. Iâd love to go to dinner with you tonight.â
The smile that breaks across his face is incandescent. âGreat! Iâll pick you up at seven?â
âSeven works,â you nod, already mentally cataloguing your closet, wondering what constitutes appropriate attire for an official date with Song Mingi.
As if reading your mind, he adds, âWear something nice. I made reservations at Stellina.â
Your eyebrows shoot up. Stellina is easily the most upscale restaurant near campusâthe kind of place parents take their children when they visit, or where professors celebrate tenure. Definitely not somewhere college students typically go for casual dinners.
âStellina?â you echo. âThatâs... wow.â
âWait, do you not like Stells?â he asks, suddenly uncertain.
You shake your head quickly. âNo, itâs perfect. Iâm just surprised.â
âGood surprised?â
âVery good surprised.â
He beams, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. âIâll see you at seven, then.â
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of anticipation. You text your roommate the news, which results in her immediately abandoning whatever plans she had to help you prepare. By six oâclock, your room looks like a boutique explodedâclothes strewn across both beds, makeup scattered across the desk, and your roommate critically assessing every option.
âThis one,â she declares finally, holding up a simple black dress you bought for a cousinâs birthday last year but havenât worn since. âClassic, elegant, but still says âIâm not trying too hard.ââ You slip it on, the silky fabric settling against your skin. Itâs more fitted than you remembered, hugging your curves before flaring slightly at the hem. Nothing flashy, but undeniably flattering.
âPerfect,â your roommate nods approvingly. âNow, shoes...â
By 6:55, youâre pacing nervously in front of the mirror. The dress looks good, your hair is cooperating for once, and your roommate has worked minor miracles with minimal makeup. Still, anxiety flutters in your stomach like trapped butterflies.
âWhat if this changes everything?â you ask, chewing your lip. âWhat if itâs weird or awkward orââ
âOr what if itâs amazing?â your roommate cuts in, adjusting a strand of your hair. âStop catastrophizing and let yourself enjoy this. The man is taking you to Stellina, for godâs sake. Heâs clearly serious about you.â
Before you can respond, your phone buzzes with a text: Iâm outside.
Your roommate practically shoves you toward the door. âGo! And I want all the details when you get back!â
You take one last deep breath, grab your small purse, and head downstairs. The moment you step outside, you spot him immediately standing beside his car, looking almost unrecognizable in a tailored navy suit. His hair is styled away from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His eyes widen slightly as they take in your appearance, moving from your face to your dress and back again with an appreciation so obvious it makes your skin warm.
âYou look...â he starts, then shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. âI had a whole line prepared, but now I canât remember it. You look incredible.â
âSo do you,â you manage, taking in how the suit fits his broad shoulders perfectly. âI didnât know you owned clothes like this.â
âSpecial occasions only,â he grins, stepping forward to offer you his arm. âReady?â
The drive to Stellina is short but charged with a new kind of tensionâanticipation mixed with awareness. Mingi keeps glancing at you when he thinks youâre not looking, and you catch yourself doing the same. When you arrive, he insists on opening your door, offering his hand to help you out of the car with an old-fashioned gallantry that would seem affected from anyone else.
Inside, the restaurant is everything you expected and more. Soft lighting from crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, the gentle clink of expensive silverware. The hostess greets Mingi by name and leads you to a quiet corner table partially secluded by a decorative screen.
âThis is...â you begin, looking around at the elegant surroundings.
âToo much?â he blurted out in a panic, studying your face carefully as he pulls out your chair.
You shake your head, settling into your seat. âNo, itâs beautiful. Iâm just not used to... all this.â
âNeither am I,â he admits with a small laugh, taking his own seat. âI wanted tonight to be special.â
The waiter appears with menus and a wine list, addressing Mingi with practiced deference. You watch, slightly amused, as he navigates the wine selection with surprising confidence, asking questions about vintages and pairings that you wouldnât have expected him to know.
âSince when are you a wine expert?â you ask after the waiter leaves to fetch your selection.
He grins, slightly sheepish. âIâm not. I spent an hour yesterday watching YouTube videos about how to order wine without looking like an idiot.â
The admission is so endearingly honest that you canât help but laugh. âYouâre crazy.â
âI wanted to impress you,â he shrugs, no trace of his usual bravado. âIs it working?â
âMaybe a little,â you concede, smiling.
The wine arrivesâa crisp white that pairs perfectly with the appetizers Mingi suggests. As you sip and sample delicate bites of food you can barely pronounce, the initial awkwardness melts away. Conversation flows as easily as it always has between you, ranging from classes to childhood stories to dreams for the future.
âSo,â he says as the waiter clears your appetizer plates, ânow that weâve conquered economics, whatâs next on your academic hit list?â
âAdvanced Econometrics,â you grimace slightly. âNot exactly light reading.â
âSounds intense,â he nods. âDo you think youâll need a tutor for that one? If so, I know a guyâŚâ
The teasing question makes you smile. âI think I can manage. What about you? What are you taking next semester?â
He hesitates, something vulnerable flickering across his face. âActually, I registered for that Behavioural Economics class you mentioned. And...â he pauses, âIâm thinking about adding a minor in Business Analytics.â
âReally?â You canât hide your surprise. âThatâs a pretty intensive program.â
âYeah, well,â he shrugs, trying to look casual but not quite succeeding, âsomeone made me realize I might actually be good at this stuff. When Iâm not being a, what did you call it? âStereotypical frat boy with the collective IQ of a houseplant?ââ
You wince, remembering your harsh assessment from months ago. âI was wrong about that.â
âNot entirely,â he laughs. âI can be that guy sometimes. Itâs easier, you know? To be what people expect.â
The honesty in his voice touches something deep in your chest. âYou donât have to be that with me.â
His eyes meet yours across the table, warm and sincere, âI know.â
The main courses arriveâseared scallops for you, steak for himâmomentarily pausing the conversation. As you eat, you notice how Mingi keeps finding excuses to touch you: his fingers brushing yours when reaching for the wine, his knee pressing gently against yours under the table. Each contact sends little sparks along your skin, building a current that hums just below the surface.
âCan I ask you something?â he says after a comfortable lull in conversation.
âOf course.â
âWhen did you start liking me?â The question is direct, curious rather than cocky. âI mean, I know you couldnât stand me at first.â
You consider this, taking a sip of wine. âI think... it was during our third tutoring session. You spent twenty minutes arguing with me about income inequality and its effects on consumer behaviour.â
He looks surprised. âThatâs what did it? An economics debate?â
âYou were passionate,â you explain. âAnd knowledgeable. And you didnât back down just because I disagreed. I was impressed.â
His expression softens. âFor me, it was the party. That first night. When you looked at me and didnât seem impressed at all.â
âReally? That early?â
He nods, a small smile playing at his lips. âYou have no idea how refreshing that was. Everyone else was... I donât know, wanting something from me. You just looked annoyed that I existed.â
âI wasnât annoyed,â you correct him. âI was... intrigued.â
âIntrigued,â he repeats, smile widening. âIâll take it.â
As dinner winds down, the restaurant gradually empties around you. Neither of you seems eager to leave, conversation flowing from topic to topic, punctuated by laughter and moments of surprising vulnerability. When the waiter discreetly brings the check, Mingi insists on paying despite your protests.
âThis was my idea,â he says firmly. âMy invitation, my treat.â
âAt least let me cover the tip,â you argue.
He shakes his head, sliding his card into the leather folder. âNext time. You can plan the whole thing if you want.â
âNext time,â you echo, liking the sound of it more than you expected to.
Outside, the night air is cool and clear, stars visible despite the campus lights. Mingi takes your hand as you walk back to the car, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm.
âThank you for tonight,â you say quietly. âIt was perfect.â
He stops walking, turning to face you under the soft glow of a streetlight. âThank you for saying yes.â
Thereâs a moment where neither of you moves. Then, slowly, as if giving you time to pull away, Mingi leans in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. The moment his lips meet yours, everything else fades awayâthe restaurant, the streetlight, even the nervous flutter in your chest. His kiss is gentle at first, almost reverent, like heâs been waiting for this moment and doesnât want to rush it. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips.
âIâve been wanting to do that for so long,â he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.
You smile, fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket. âWhat took you so long?â
Instead of answering, he kisses you again, deeper this time. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer until youâre pressed against him, the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Something shifts in the air between youâthe careful restraint youâve both been maintaining giving way to something more urgent, more honest.
Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, messing up his carefully styled look. He makes a soft sound against your mouth that sends heat rushing through you, his fingers digging slightly into your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. The kiss turns hungrier, months of tension finally finding release as his tongue brushes against yours, tentative at first, then with growing confidence when you respond in kind.
When you finally break apart, youâre both breathing hard. His eyes are darker than youâve ever seen them, pupils wide as he looks at you with undisguised want.
âI shouldâve done this at the party ages ago,â he whispers, voice rough. âThat night on the balcony. Iâve been thinking about it ever since.â
You laugh softly, feeling dizzy and light-headed in the best way. âBetter late than never.â
He grins, pressing another quick kiss to your lips like he canât help himself. âDo you want to go somewhere more... private?â The question is careful, giving you an out if you need it.
The responsible part of your brain reminds you of early classes tomorrow, of the boundaries you set, of taking things slow. But the part of you thatâs been dreaming of this moment for longer than you care to admit is already nodding.
âYour place?â you suggest, surprised by the boldness in your own voice.
His eyes widen slightly, like he hadnât expected you to agree so readily. âYou sure?â
In answer, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your actions speak louder than words. When you pull away, his smile is almost dazed.
âMy place it is,â he says, taking your hand and leading you back to his car with renewed purpose.
The drive to his fraternity house is charged with anticipation, the air between you electric with possibilities. His hand finds yours across the center console, thumb stroking over your knuckles in a way that seems both soothing and maddening at once. At a red light, he canât resist leaning over to kiss you again, quick but deep enough to leave you breathless.
âIf you keep doing that, we might not make it to your place,â you warn, only half-joking.
His laugh is low and warm. âWorth it.â
ââââââââââââââââââ
When you arrive, the house is mercifully quietâmost of his frat brothers either out or already asleep. He leads you through the common areas with your hand firmly in his, up the stairs to his room on the second floor. Once inside, he closes the door softly behind you, and suddenly the reality of where you areâin Mingiâs bedroom, alone, after the most perfect dateâhits you all at once.
His room is larger than you expected, and surprisingly neat. A double bed occupies one corner, made with actual matching sheets and pillows. Bookshelves line one wall, filled not just with textbooks but novels, economics journals, and what looks like a collection of vintage records. A desk sits beneath a large window, offering the promised view of campus, lights twinkling in the distance.
âSo,â you say, turning to face him, âthis is where the golden boy lives.â
He pushes off from the door, crossing to stand before you. âDisappointed that there's no mattress on the floor and itâs not covered in beer pong trophies?â
âA little,â you admit with a teasing smile. âThough I do see at least one trophy.â You nod toward a shelf where a single golden cup sits next to a framed photo of Mingi with an older man, both smiling widely.
âEconomics award from freshman year,â he explains, following your gaze. âThatâs my grandfather, the day I got my acceptance letter.â
You move closer to examine the photo, aware of Mingi following you, the space between you shrinking with each step. When you turn to face him again, heâs so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Something shifts in his expressionâthe playful fraternity president giving way to something more raw, more honest. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your lower lip.
His fingers tremble against your cheek as he exhales shakily. âIâve never been this terrified of messing something up,â he confesses, voice cracking slightly.
âEvery time I look at you, I see everything Iâve ever wanted but never thought I deserved.â His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your knees weak. âI keep pinching myself that youâre actually here, with me. Youâre not just another person to meâyouâre my person.â His thumb brushes your lower lip, reverent. âI adore everything about you. The way you laugh, how you challenge me, even how you roll your eyes when Iâm being ridiculous.â He swallows hard. âIâm serious about us. So serious it scares me.â
The word hangs between you, heavy with meaning. You see it in his eyes, the battle between desire and fear. Fear that heâll scare you away, that heâll move too fast, that youâll retreat behind those walls heâs spent weeks carefully dismantling. Your hands, almost of their own volition, drift upward to press against his chest. Under your palm, you feel the erratic thrum of his heart, each frantic beat echoing your own.
âMingi,â you whisper, and the sound of his nameâso soft, so certainâshatters the fragile barrier heâs been holding between you. For a suspended moment, your gazes lock, electric and trembling, and then he moves with a sudden, desperate clarity.
Mingiâs restraint snaps like brittle glass. He surges forward, kissing you with an intensity thatâs as bright and blinding as a detonated starâno preamble, no hesitance, just pure want. His lips crash into yours, hot and hungry, arms banding around your waist so tightly you feel like you might dissolve into him. Thereâs nothing tentative in the way he holds you; heâs all-in, every muscle taut with reverence and longing. The kiss is a reclamation, a promise, and the culmination of every unspoken thing thatâs hung between you for weeks.
You can only cling to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the seismic shift in energy. Your breath is stolen, your senses alight, your mind gone white-noise blank. The room could be on fire and you wouldnât notice. Mingi kisses like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he lets up for even a secondâlike youâre the last oxygen left on earth and heâs learning how to breathe. And yet, underneath the urgency, thereâs a trembling tenderness, as though every pass of his mouth is asking, Is this okay? Am I too much? Do you want me, too?
You answer with your body, arching into him, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, jaw tilting to deepen the kiss. His hands slide up your back, mapping the length of your spine; one finds its way into your hair, cradling your head, the other splayed possessively at your hip. He tastes like citrus and hope and the sharp, metallic shimmer of anticipation. Thereâs nothing careful about itâyour teeth clash, your lips bruise, and when you gasp for air, he only uses the opportunity to trail kisses along your jaw, your neck, the delicate hollow at your throat. This is messy, urgent, but itâs also so fiercely sincere youâre left raw by the force of it. When he draws back, just long enough to search your face, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark with wonder and disbelief.
âGod, This might be better than the first time we kissed,â he pants, chest heaving as he regains control of his breathing. He brushes your hair away from your face, fingers gentle where his grip had been bruising. âTell me if itâs too much, okay?â
You shake your head, already chasing his mouth again, needing to erase the words and replace them with moreâmore of him, more of this. He laughs against your lips, the sound reverberating through your bones. You feel untethered, weightless, every nerve ending singing. Youâre dimly aware of your back pressing up against the closed door, Mingi pinning you there in a cocoon of warmth and want. Every inch of you is alive, hypersensitive to the slide of his hands, the brush of his breath against your skin.
He kisses you again and again, in greedy, overlapping intervals, his self-control disintegrating the longer you let him. But even as the kiss turns molten, thereâs nothing careless in the way he touches youâno sense of entitlement, just awe and gratitude, as though he still canât believe youâre real, youâre here, youâre choosing him. When he finally slows, his forehead drops to yours, both of you panting, foreheads and noses pressed together, steadying yourselves against the aftershocks.
His lips find the corner of your mouth, then the line of your jaw, then your ear. âSorry,â he whispers, not sounding sorry at all. âI got carried away for a second.â
You laugh, shaky and breathless. âIt's okay, it was kinda cute.â
He smiles, teeth grazing your earlobe. âYouâre dangerous, you know that?â
âI learned from the best.â
He laughs again, quieter this time, and it morphs into something softer, more vulnerable. âThe student becomes the master now, huh?â
You step back, just enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies, and meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but thereâs hesitation there tooâa question. You answer by taking his hand and leading him toward the bed, your heart hammering against your ribs. When his legs hit the edge of the mattress, you place your palms on his chest and gently push. He sits immediately, looking up at you with such reverence that it steals your breath. For a moment, you simply stand between his parted knees, admiring how beautiful he looks like thisâwaiting, wanting, completely focused on you.
âCan I?â you ask softly, fingers playing with the top button of his shirt.
He nods, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. âOf course. Whatever you want, doll.â
You take your time undressing him, savouring each new inch of skin revealed. His breathing grows more ragged with each button you slip free, with each brush of your fingertips against his heated skin. Your hands drift lower, finding the buckle of his belt. His eyes never leave yours as you work it loose, the metal clinking softly in the quiet room. Thereâs something intoxicating about the way he watches youâpatient yet desperate, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. When you pop the button of his pants, his hands grip the edge of the mattress, anchoring himself down.
âLift your hips,â you instruct softly, and he complies immediately, allowing you to slide his pants down his thighs. The fabric pools around his ankles, and he kicks them away, leaving him in just his boxers.
You take a moment to admire him like thisâthe strong lines of his thighs, the subtle definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. Mingi has always seemed larger than life, but here, partially undressed and vulnerable before you, heâs beautifully human. When you trace a finger along the waistband of his underwear, he shivers, a small sound escaping his throat. He tries reaching for you, but you catch his wrists.Â
âNot yet,â you murmur, and he immediately stills.
ââM Sorry,â he breathes, letting his hands fall to his sides. âIâll be good.â
Something about the way he says itâlike heâs never had to wait before, like heâs never been the one following someone elseâs leadâmakes the heat pool low in your belly. You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, rewarding his patience.
âLie back, let me take care of you,â you instruct, and he complies without hesitation, shifting up the bed until his head rests on the pillows.Â
You take your time undressing yourself, hyperaware of his hungry gaze tracking every movement. When you finally stand before him in nothing but your underwear, he lets out the sweetest whimper thatâs graced your ears.
âFuck,â he whispers, voice strained. âYouâre so beautiful. Iââ
He cuts himself off, holding back a moan as you climb onto the bed, straddling his hips. His hands hover uncertainly at your waist, waiting for permission.
âGo ahead, you can touch me,â you grant, and his hands are on you instantly. Feeling the warmth of his hands as they trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine.
You lean down to kiss him properly, deep and slow, savouring the taste of him. His lips part eagerly beneath yours, letting you set the pace, following your lead with a pliancy thatâs intoxicating from someone normally so in control. You begin grinding against him for friction and he reciprocates. He groans into your mouth, mumbling curses under his breath. You felt his boner poking your ass while you both humped each other so so desperately. His bedroom is filled with the harmony of your heavy breathing, his whines, and the wet sounds of your lips crashing.
âPlease,â he gasps. âI needâI wantââ
âWhat do you want, Mingi?â you ask, pulling back slightly to watch his face.
âNeed to feel you,â he says immediately, no hesitation. âDonât want toâhaahâcum in my pants like a fucking virgin.â
You giggle at his admission, you slowly reach behind you to squeeze his bulge, feeling it twitch in the palm of your hand. Mingiâs head tips back in bliss, growling at the sensation. The rawness in his voice makes your chest tight. You press soft kisses down his throat, across his collarbones, feeling his pulse race beneath your lips. His hands slide up your back, tangling in your hair, but he doesnât push or pullâjust holds on like youâre his anchor in a storm.
When you finally strip away the last barriers between you, his whole body trembles with anticipation. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, feeling the velvet skin slide beneath your touch as you position his flushed tip at your entrance. His eyes lock with yoursâdark pools of need and surrender. You lower yourself with deliberate patience, savouring the stretch as his thick length fills you, watching his full lips part and his lashes flutter against flushed cheeks.
Mingi whines the second you ease down on him completely, hips trembling beneath you. His hands fist in the sheets, as if heâs physically restraining himself from thrusting up into you.
âFuck, babyââ he gasps, head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat. His jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful as he struggles for control. âFeels so good around my cock, shitââ
You lean down, hushing him gently, both palms cradling his flushed face. You treat him like something precious, something to be cherished as you press your lips to his in a slow, deep kiss. Your tongue curls against his languidly, unhurried, as if you have nowhere else to be but here, joined with him in this perfect moment.
âIt feels good, doesnât it?â you murmur between kisses, your voice soft and sweet and infinitely patient. Your forehead rests against his, noses brushing, sharing the same heated breath. âYouâre doing so good for me.â
He moans at your praise, his entire body shuddering beneath yours. Heâs all muscle and barely contained strength under you, his powerful frame completely at your mercy. You can feel how desperately he wants to move, to take control, but he surrenders to your pace instead, letting you have him exactly how you want him.
You remain still, just sitting there with him buried deep inside you, feeling the way your cunt pulses around his length. The sensation must be overwhelming for him because his eyes squeeze shut, his breathing ragged and uneven.
âIs it too much?â you cooed, reaching to brush damp strands of dark hair from his forehead, your touch gentle and soothing
He shakes his head frantically, his grip on your waist tightening. âN-no,â he whines with a soft, shattered sound. âJustâfuck, just need a s-secondâfeels too fuckinâ goodâcanât thinkââ
Sweat beads at his hairline, eyes squeezed shut in some primal effort to hold himself together, chest heaving under your hands like heâs afraid his ribs will break apart from the force of it. You melt a little at the sight of himâa six foot force of raw sex appealânow reduced to a mass of shaking limbs and shattered breath, undone and writhing beneath you. Thereâs something intoxicating about the way he trusts you to see him like this, about the way he lets himself be taken apart so openly, without armour or artifice. You savour it, every trembling, helpless second, and you want to draw it out forever.
You lean down, brushing your lips to his cheek in a soft, featherlight kiss. He inhales sharply, but doesnât flinch away. Instead, he turns his head, chasing your mouth with a need so naked it nearly undoes you. You let him catch you, let him press his lips to yoursânot in a kiss, exactly, but a silent plea, a lifeline. You answer by kissing him deeper, slower, letting your tongue trace the seam of his lips, coaxing him open, coaxing him back to the surface. His hands slide up your back, frantic but reverent, like heâs trying to memorise the shape of you by touch and touch alone. His heart beats wild under your palm, a frantic semaphore that reads: I want you, I want you, I want you. You press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his jaw, then down the delicate line where his pulse hammers beneath thin skin. He shudders, his whole body rigid and shivery. You thread your fingers through his hair, stroking the side of his faceÂ
âHey,â you murmur, voice as gentle as you know how to make it, âRelax, Iâve got you. Can you do that for me?âÂ
He nods, so obedient and desperate it makes something deep in your chest ache with tenderness. One breath, then another, and you feel the tightness in his body begin to unravelâincremental, but real. You rock your hips slowly, experimentally, watching his face for every flicker of sensation, every micro-expression. His lips part in a helpless moan, but his eyes finally flutter open, dazed and shining. He tries to say your name but it comes out as a whimper, half-beg, half-blessing.
âThatâs it, babyâ you praise, kissing him again, softer this time. âYouâre doing so well.âÂ
The words seem to go straight to his coreâhe clings to them, drinking them down like water in the desert. You keep up a steady stream of encouragement, every whisper and touch meant to anchor him, to let him know you want him just like this: open, needy, trembling with the effort of holding back.
You draw the next movement out deliberately. The slow, aching drag of your hips, the way you squeeze around him with every tiny shift. Mingiâs hands grip your thighs like lifelines, fingers biting into your skin, but he doesnât dare take back controlâthe restraint is exquisite, painful to watch. Heâs at your mercy and loving it, if the way his eyes keep darting to your mouth, your chest, your hands, is any indication.
âGonna let me do what I want, yeah?â you crooned, savoring how your voice makes him flinch with anticipation. âKeep being good for me.âÂ
He nods, lips trembling as he struggles to keep his composure âFuck. Yesâpl-please, âm yours.â
You build your rhythm, slow and steady, each grind calculated to wring the maximum shudder from him. Sometimes you pause, letting him throb helplessly inside you, watching his jaw flex and his throat work as he swallows the urge to move. Sometimes, you bring yourself up just enough that only the tip of him is inside, and let him feel the loss, the emptiness, right before you sink down again in one slow, molten pulse. Every time you do it, Mingiâs head tips back, a sound escaping his throat thatâs closer to a sob than a moan. You let the building friction wind both of you higher, but you donât let yourself get lost in it; you want to see him come apart, to savour every second of his surrender.
You pick up the pace, just enough to make it impossible for him to stay silent. The bed frame squeaks softly beneath you, his hands finally dragging up your ribs, desperate for anything to ground him in this sinful reality. He reaches up and cups one of your tits, rolling and squeezing your nipple until it hardens against his warm touch. Your eyes shut at the sight, your body starts to falter under his grasp. Every inch of him is trembling too, his body strung tight as wire. His thrusts are growing more desperate, cockhead now slamming into your weakest spot, ripping a pornographic moan from you.Â
âPlease, doll,â he rasps, voice gone rough and wild. âPlease, can Iâ?â
You lean in, your lips at his ear, your breath hot and deliberate. âYou want to cum?â you hum, rocking down hard and slow, grinding your hips just the way he likes. âYou want to fill me up?â
He makes a strangled sound that could be your name, or a prayer, or both. âPleasepleaseplease,â he says again, as if the word is being pried out of him, as if heâs never begged for anything in his life.
You decide heâs earned it.
âDo it,â you cooed. âCum for me, Mingi. Wanna feel you cum inside me.â
The effect is immediate. He bucks up into you, helpless, his face contorting with pure, blissful pleasure. His hands drag you down against him, holding you in place as he comes deep inside you, the force of it making his whole body shudder. Your juices drip down his balls and your gummy walls clamp down hard on his sensitive length, throwing into his orgasm and washing his vision white. You feel his warmth spreading in your insides, creamy ropes of cum making you feel fuller than before. You ride him through it, slow and greedy, squeezing him with your cunt until heâs wrung out and gasping, eyes rolling back as he drowns in sensation. His chest trembles under his shaky breaths as he pulls his half-hard cock out of your sticky heat, looking up at you through dampened lashes. You press your lips to his damp temple, stroking his hair until the aftershocks fade. For a moment, the world goes silent save for the hammering of both your hearts, the heat of your bodies, the sweat cooling on your skin.
All of a sudden, the equilibrium tilts.
Mingi comes back to himself by degrees, eyes still glazed but mouth already curling into a grin thatâs all sharp canines and mischief. Youâre still trembling, the aftershocks ricocheting through your bones, but the way heâs holding you nowâpossessiveâis different from before. Thereâs a shift in the air, a gathering of purpose behind the lazy drag of his palm up your spine.
âAlright, youâve had your fun,â he rasps, voice rough with spent desire, âmy turn.â
Suddenly heâs moving, rolling you onto your back in a single, fluid motion. His hands are everywhereâkneading your ass, your thighs, greedy in their hunger. His body covers yours, heat and weight and muscle, and you realise that heâs been biding his time, letting you have your way only so he could give it back to you tenfold.Â
âDid you really think you had all the control, doll?â he drawls, the words fiery and playful at once, goading you with the memory of your earlier dominanceâall while letting you know it was only ever on loan.
His hands bracket your hips, fingers splayed and greedy, and you feel the faintest quiver in his arms as he holds himself over you, like a predator savouring the moment before the pounce. His eyes never leave yours as he takes himself in hand, his cock already hardening again. You feel the blunt head of him brushing against your sensitive folds, teasing at your entrance. He drags it slowly up and down your slit, still slick with his cum and your arousal, circling your clit with deliberate pressure that makes your hips buck involuntarily.
âSo responsive,â he murmurs, eyes darkening as he continues to tease you, tapping his tip against your cunt with feather-light touches. âLook at how eager you are fâme.â
You moan as he continues his torturous teasing, rubbing his hardening length against your swollen lips, gathering your shared wetness along his shaft. Your hips buck involuntarily, chasing the fullness you crave. Mingi just chuckles, keeping his movements shallow, the head of his cock just barely dipping inside before retreating. The emptiness is maddening.
âUse your words,â he commands softly, continuing the torturous tapping against your entrance. âTell me what you need.â
âIâ ohmygod... I needâ,â you try to answer, but the question melts on your tongue.Â
His smile is triumphant as he finally, finally pushes forward, sinking into you with one smooth thrust. He buries himself deeper, hips rolling with a languid, relentless power. Every inch of him fills you, presses you open, makes you ache. He fucks up into you with a slow, devastating grind that leaves your toes curling and your nails digging into his biceps for purchase.
âSo fucking tight,â he groans, nipping at your pulse point, tongue flicking over sweat-salted skin. âSo wet for me. You like being stuffed by my cock don't you?â
âOh fuck.. yes!â You whimper, and he grips your jaw, thumb pressing into your lower lip, enticing you to be louder.
âLet me hear you,â he growls, eyes burning into yours. âFuckâlet the whole dorm hear how good Iâm making you feel.â
He fucks you like he has nowhere to go and nothing else to do but ruin you, each punishing thrust deliberate and deep, perfectly tuned to hit every trembling, oversensitive sweet spot inside you, drawing out increasingly desperate sounds that seem to fuel his hunger. The room is a riot of sensation: the slap of skin on skin, the obscene squeeelch of your own arousal, the sweat that drips from his brow onto your collarbone as he leans in to bite at your shoulder.
He laces his fingers through yours, pinning your hands above your head, and the new angle is exquisiteâheâs so deep you can barely breathe, so intense you canât manage a sound. Heâs watching your face, drinking in every flicker of pleasure and pain, cataloguing the way your body arches and clenches around him.
âLook at you,â he pants, fucking you harder now, the headboard rattling with each thrust. âYou look so pretty like thisâspread out for me, fuck. This is what you wanted, right?â
You feel the weight of him first, that heavy press of Mingiâs body pinning you down against the sheets, his hips grinding slow and deliberate as he sinks deeper. Every inch of his cock stretches you wide, the burn mixing with that sweet ache that makes your toes curl and your breath hitch. Your hands claw at his back, nails digging into the scarred skin, but he doesnât flinch. He just growls low in his throat, pushing harder, stuffing himself in until thereâs no space left between you. All you can feel is him, that thick length buried deep, pulsing against your walls as he drives in again and again. a whimper escapes your lips, broken and needy, your body arching up to meet him even as the overload makes you want to pull away. Mingi notices immediately. his hand shoots up, fingers tangling rough in your hair, yanking your head forward with just enough force to make you gasp.
âLook at me,â He rasps, voice strained like heâs fighting through something sharp and brutal.
His grip tightens, holding you steady so your eyes lock onto his. Yours are wide now, pupils blowing out wide and dark, swallowing the colour until thereâs just that hazy black stare reflecting back at him. He watches it happen, the way they dilate under the dim light, pulling him in like youâre lost in the haze of it all. His sounds get louder, desperate almost, grunts turning into these deep, guttural moans that vibrate through his body into yours.
âFuckâI'm gonna lose my mind,â he groans, the word dragging out low and pained, like the pleasure is edging on torture. his free hand digs into your hip, bruising as he pulls you closer, slamming in one last time. âYour perfect cunt was made for me wasn't it?â
You nod, frantic, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming fullness. He slows, just enough to let you catch your breath, then leans in, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss thatâs as much a challenge as comfort. His tongue is rough, demanding, and he swallows every helpless sound you make.Â
Then, in a cruel twist of fate, he pulls out entirely, leaving you empty and clenching at nothing. Before you can beg, heâs flipping you onto your stomach, hands manhandling your hips up until youâre on your knees for him, face pressed into the pillows. He lines himself up behind you, the heat of his cock nudging at your entrance, and you whimper in anticipation.
âYou're gonna let me fuck you sooo good, right baby?â he promises, voice gone dark and needy, and then he slams back into you in one brutal, beautiful stroke. The sound you make is sweet, involuntary, a sob torn from deep in your chest. He gives you no quarter, hips pistoning relentlessly, the flat of his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends you clenching around him.
âSo beautiful,â he purred, running his palm over the stinging flesh.
With every thrust he drives the point home, each one punctuated by a filthy litanyâmineâuntil you can feel the word burning into your skin. He grabs a fistful of your hair, jerks your head back so youâre forced to arch, to present yourself to him, to let him see how utterly, beautifully ruined you are.
âSay it,â he orders, voice raw. âTell me who you belong to.â
You gasp, barely able to form words. âYou! Mingi. Iâm all yoursââ
He rewards you with devastating thrusts, so deep your vision starts turning white.
You can feel yourself unraveling, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Heâs relentless, fucking you through your first orgasm and into a second, not stopping even when you collapse boneless onto the mattress. He kisses your spine, your shoulder blade, every vertebrae, as he keeps you pinned and takes you, over and over, until your vision blurs and you forget your own name.Â
âM-mingi! Mâ so close, gonna cumââ
âGonna cum inside you again,â he promises, voice shaking with how close he is, hips stuttering. âYou gonna take it for me? Gonna let me breed this perfect pussy?â
âYesyesyesâfuck!â
The words rip something out of you. You nod, desperate, grinding back against him, greedy for his release.
âThatâs my girl, câmon cum with me baby.â
He bites down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and fucks you through his own climax, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you up again, so much it slicks out around the edges and paints the inside of your thighs, messy and obscene.
You collapse together, his arms locked around your waist, breath ghosting warm across your neck. He stays inside you, softening only a little, like he canât bear to let you go yet. You lie there, bodies tangled and sticky, sweat cooling on your skin, and you feel the heat of him still throbbing inside you, a silent claim.
Neither of you moves for what feels like hours, your breathing gradually slowing to match each otherâs rhythm. Mingiâs weight on top of you is heavy but comforting, his cock still nestled deep inside you despite having softened slightly. The gentle pulsing of him against your walls sends occasional aftershocks through your system, little reminders of the intensity you just shared.
âStay like this,â you whisper when he finally stirs, your hand reaching back to keep him in place. âJust a little longer.â
He makes a soft sound of agreement, pressing his lips to the nape of your neck. âYou like feeling me inside you, donât you?â His voice is a gentle rumble against your skin.Â
You nod, feeling strangely vulnerable in your admission. Thereâs something deeply intimate about thisâmore so, somehow, than the passionate sex you just had. Mingi seems to understand, adjusting his position slightly so heâs not crushing you but remains connected, his chest pressed to your back, one arm draped possessively across your waist.
âThis okay?â he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.
âPerfect,â you sigh, melting into the mattress beneath his weight.
The room falls quiet except for your mingled breathing and the distant thrum of music from downstairs. The party continues without you, but at this moment, the world outside this room might as well not exist. Mingi nuzzles against your shoulder, pressing lazy kisses to the marks he left earlier.
âIâve never done this before,â he confesses quietly.
âWhat, sex?â you tease, knowing full well thatâs not what he means.
He laughs softly, the vibration traveling through both your bodies. âNo, smartass.â His arm tightens around you. âThis,â he clarifies, fingers drawing gentle patterns on your skin. âHaving someone stay over.â
You twist your neck to look at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. âWait, seriously? But youâreâyouâre you. Howââ
He laughs, but thereâs no humor in it. âYeah I knowâŚI donât bring people here. Ever.â
âEver?â You shift slightly to face him better, wincing as you feel him slip out of you. The loss is immediate, leaving you empty in a way that makes you want to chase the connection again. He reaches for tissues from his nightstand, cleaning you both with surprising tenderness before settling back beside you. His eyes meet yours, unusually vulnerable.
âNever,â he confirms, voice soft. âThis room is... I donât know. Itâs mine. My space. I donât share it with just anyone.â
The implication hangs between you, heavy with meaning. Youâre not just anyone. Youâre someone he wants in his private world, someone heâs letting see parts of himself that others donât.
âBut all those stories about you...â you begin, confused.
He shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. âNot saying Iâve been a saint. But those hookups? They happened elsewhere. Never here. Never in my bed.â His fingers trace your cheekbone with careful precision. âNever like this.â
Something warm blooms in your chest, spreading outward until your whole body feels flushed with it. Youâve been the exception to so many of his rules alreadyâthe girl he studied for, the one he took to Stellina, the one he waited patiently for. And now thisâbeing the only person heâs ever brought to his most personal space.
âI didnât know,â you whisper, because you donât know what else to say.
âHow could you?â His smile is small but genuine. âIâve spent a lot of time making sure everyone sees exactly what they expect to see.â
You reach up, touching his face with gentle fingers. âAnd what am I seeing right now?â
âThe real me,â he says simply. âThe one whoâs terrified of messing this up. The one who thinks about you constantly. The one who...â he hesitates, taking a deep breath before continuing, âthe one who wants you to be his girlfriend. Officially.â
Your heart stutters in your chest. Despite everything thatâs happened between youâthe tutoring, the dates, the incredible sex you just hadâhearing him say it out loud makes it suddenly, overwhelmingly real.
âMingi...â you start, uncertain how to respond.
His face falls slightly, but he quickly masks it. âIâm rushing things, arenât I?â
âNo, itâs not that,â you say quickly, not wanting him to misunderstand. âItâs justâthis is all happening so fast. A few months ago I couldnât stand you, and now...â
âAnd now?â he prompts when you trail off, eyes searching yours.
âNow I canât imagine not having you in my life,â you admit. The truth of it surprises even you. âI just need a little time to process everything. Can I... can I give you an answer tomorrow?â
Relief washes over his features. âItâs not a no?â
You smile, leaning in to kiss him softly. âDefinitely not a no.â
He pulls you closer, wrapping you in his arms like heâs afraid you might disappear. âTomorrow it is. I can wait.â
You fall asleep like that, tangled together in his sheets, his heartbeat steady against your back, his breath warm on your neck. For the first time in years, you donât worry about your schedule or your plans or what comes next. You just let yourself exist in this moment, with him.
Sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed. You stir slowly, your body pleasantly sore as consciousness creeps in. For a moment, disorientation clouds your mindâthis isnât your dorm room. All of a sudden, rapid flashbacks enter your mind from the events of last night. Mingi is gone, the sheets cool where he should be. For one terrible moment, panic seizes your chestâdid he regret last night? Did he change his mind about wanting you as his girlfriend?
Then you hear footsteps in the hallway, the door handle turning. You sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest, heart pounding.
Mingi backs into the room, hands full. Heâs balancing a tray of coffee cups, a small box of chocolates tucked under his arm, andâyour breath catchesâa bouquet of lilies and hydrangeas cradled against his chest. He hasnât noticed youâre awake yet, too focused on not dropping anything as he nudges the door closed with his foot.
When he turns and sees you watching him, his face breaks into a smile so bright it rivals the sunlight streaming through the windows.
âMorning,â he says, suddenly looking shy. âI was hoping to be back before you woke up.â
âWhatâs all this?â you ask, unable to keep the smile from your voice.
He approaches the bed, carefully setting down the coffee cups on the nightstand. âWell, I figured your answer might depend on how convincing my case was.â He hands you the flowers, the stargazer liliesâ pink-speckled petals unfurling beside clusters of blue hydrangeas that catch the morning light. âThese reminded me of you.â
You bury your nose in the blooms, inhaling their sweet fragrance. âTheyâre perfect.â
âThereâs more,â he says, offering you the box of chocolates. âYour favourite, right? The ones with the salted caramel centers?â
You blink in surprise. âHow did you know?â
âYou mentioned it once, when we were studying for the midterm. Said they were your stress food.â
The fact that he remembered such a small detail makes your heart swell. He passes you one of the coffee cups, the rich aroma of your preferred brew wafting up as you take it.
âAnd thisâŚâ he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small envelope. âThis is the most important part.â
You set the coffee aside and take the card with trembling fingers. The envelope is simple, your name written on the front in his familiar handwriting. Inside is a handmade card, decorated with what appears to be hand-drawn economic graphs and formulas. You open it, and a laugh bubbles up from your chest as you read the message:
According to my cost-benefit analysis, being with you yields the highest returns on investment. Our relationship has increasing marginal utilityâthe more time I spend with you, the more valuable each moment becomes. Will you be my girlfriend and help me maximize our happiness and love function?
Itâs nerdy and sweet and so perfectly him that tears spring to your eyes. When you look up, heâs watching you nervously, waiting for your response.
âSoooo?â he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You set the card aside carefully and reach for him, pulling him down until heâs sitting beside you on the bed. âYou're so stupid,â you say, cupping his face in your hands. âOf course I'll be your girlfriendâ
The relief and joy that wash over his features are almost painful to witness. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss thatâs somehow both gentle and fierce, like heâs trying to pour every emotion heâs feeling into this one perfect moment.
When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed as if heâs committing this to memory.
âYou know,â you say, threading your fingers through his hair, âfor someone who was failing economics a few weeks ago, that was a pretty impressive application of the principles.â
He laughs, the sound vibrating through both of you. âWhat can I say? I had an excellent tutor.â
âDamn right you did,â you tease, pulling him in for another kiss.
Outside, the campus is waking up. Students are heading to class, professors are preparing lectures, life is continuing as it always has. But in this room, wrapped in each otherâs arms, you and Mingi have created something newâa world that belongs just to the two of you, built on unexpected connections, shattered assumptions, and the courage to see beyond the surface. As his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, you let yourself sink into the certainty that some economic theories are universal: the most valuable things are often the ones you never saw coming, and the greatest returns come from the investments you make not with your head, but with your heart.
Š w00yngie 2026 | do not steal, plagiarise, translate or feed my work to ai.
[ex-husband!wooyoung x ex-wife!reader] third & final part of the wifey trilogy | smut minors dni 18+ pinv, creampie, dirty talk, talk of pregnancy, wooyoung is a little shit, beautiful loving sex that will make u want to rip ur hair out | wc 9.8k
i cant believe this mini series is finally over, i had so much fun writing it, thank you for reading and interacting with me and keeping me motivated to write more. i appreciate every single one of you, and your words matter. please enjoy and happy spring xoxoxo đ
âDid you know mommyâs sick?â
Just past five thirty on a Tuesday night Wooyoung finished eating dinner with Kyungmin, a meal he threw together quick and easy after he picked his son up from after-school care. Standing at his kitchen sink, he turned around to eye his eight year old with a singular eyebrow raised. âSick?â
âShe keeps throwing up,â Kyungmin, eyes focused on his screen laid on top of the kitchen island counter, didnât spare Wooyoung a glance as he spoke. âAll. Day. Long. Yesterday, she threw up while she was driving me home from school.â
Wooyoung fully turned around at that, brows knitted together, kitchen sink still running, the titanium holding three more dishes he still had to wash. âWhile she was driving? Or did she pull over?â
His son looked at him with such an incredulous look it made Wooyoung feel a little stupid for asking the question. With a little giggle, Kyungmin answered, âShe pulled over, duh.â
âOkay, attitude,â Wooyoung couldnât help being amused whenever he saw you in your son, even if he thinks Kyungmin is all him. Sitting in the same clothes he wore to school today, a tee shirt, loose jeans that Wooyoung bought him, his favorite Elsa and Anna socks, his eyes went right back to his tablet, the case bright green against the deep granite countertop. âDid she go to the doctor?â
His kid shrugged.Â
âKyungmin,â Wooyoungâs tone was stronger, asking for his sonâs attention. The boy lifted his eyes away from his screen as Wooyoung asked, âHas she said anything about it?â
âJust said sheâs sick,â Kyungmin shrugged again, sounding irritated that Wooyoung was taking him away from his screen time, âshe told me not to tell you.â
Wooyoungâs smirk was anything but involuntary. His son, indeed. âBut youâre telling me anyway?â
âItâs stinky,â he uttered, crinkling his nose as he said it. A little quieter, a little smaller, he mumbled, âAnd itâs scary.â
âDonât be scared,â Wooyoung soothed, turning off the kitchen sink before leaning his elbows on the granite, leaning over the countertop so he can be eye-to-eye with his son. âMommyâs okay, I promise.â
Kyungmin lifted his eyes, a twinkle of fear swirling in whiskey, eyes that were identical to his own. He whispered, âHow do you know?â
It made sense then, why he hasnât been served papers. Even if it fills him with hope, he knows thereâs a long fucking way to go before actual progress is made, although itâs already been over two months since that dreadful night on your living room floor. He expected to be served within two weeks, maybe three, but nine have passed and nothing, not a whisper about his least favorite word that starts with D.Â
God knows he hasnât brought it up.Â
âBecause daddyâs always right,â Wooyoung gleamed, and the smile made the corner of Kyungminâs lips curve upward. Wooyoungâs head tilted, âArenât I?â
Kyungmin shook his head, âNo.â
âBoo,â Wooyoungâs lip lifted, dragging out the word in a sneer. âCome on, I was right this morning when I said making bunny ears with your shoe laces is easier, right?â Kyungminâs lips pursed like he was trying to fight his smile from growing. Wooyoung made his way around the kitchen counter, coming up behind Kyungmin, âAnd I was right earlier when I said youâre still ticklish, wasnât I?â
His hands jumped for Kyungminâs sides, and his heart sang listening to his sonâs loud, wild giggles. He stopped tickling to wrap his arms around him in a tight hug, planting a kiss to the top of his head. âDaddyâs always right, and I said mommyâs gonna be just fine, so trust me, okay?â
Just fine. Nine weeks of pick-ups, drop-offs, damn near silent, everything was so fucking far from fine heâs barely slept in weeks. He finally came clean with his therapist, who he hoped and prayed had something legally binding her from reporting his lawyer in some way, which might be the result of leftover anxiety from doing such a thing in the first place.Â
He should have waited. He probably shouldnât have done it at all, but he did, and he should have fucking waited to tell you. If youâre pregnant, which heâd place a million dollar bet on if youâre throwing upâif this pregnancy was anything like your pregnancy with Kyungminâhe could have waited until you were farther along. Hell, he could have waited until the baby was born.Â
Any time would have been better than the time he chose. When you two were on better terms, smoother terms, he should have told you then. When it mightâve felt like everything was falling into place. Instead he ripped things apart all over again, and now theyâre worse than they were to begin with and fuck he was back to square one or even something worse than that.Â
His therapist wouldnât agree with any of that, but whatever. Heâs losing his mind. But the little boy in his arms is keeping that singular thread of rationality stronger than steel.Â
âCome on, stinky, shower time.â
âIâm not stinky,â Kyungmin huffs, âyouâre stinky. You smell like⌠you smell like my butt.â
Wooyoung raises his brows at the littleâs head tipped backward into his stomach, âSo your butt is stinky?â
Kyungmin smiles, âNo.â
âOkay, so maybe weâll go to bed early tonight, since you forgot how to make sense,â he lifts his son by his armpits onto the floor, and the tablet dangles from his right hand, which Wooyoung scoops up with his own. âThis screen is frying your stinky brain.â
âYou have a stinky brain,â Kyungmin points, then turns on his heel, giggling just as wild and just as loud all the way to the bathroom.Â
âThis stinky brain created you,â Wooyoung calls after him. âIf Iâm stinky, youâre stinky!â
âYouâre the stinky one!âÂ
Wooyoung canât help the snort that rips from his nose as he throws the tablet onto his couch, making his way towards the bathroom in the middle of the singular hallway in his entire apartment. Almost-bachelor-pad, Yunho and Aurora had called it. âThen Iâll take a shower after you, stinky boy. Do you need help with the faucet?â
âYes, please!â
His smile doesnât leave the entire time heâs in the bathroom. Turning on the faucet to the right temperature, helping Kyungmin with his shirt that got stuck going over his head, even smelling Kyungminâs stinky socks that really were fucking stinky. Hearing his son laugh again, his favorite sound in the world, he remembers the days he could hold the boy over one forearm like it was yesterday.
Fuck, and he might have another? Another shot at creating a life? Hearing his baby laugh for the first time? Take their first steps? Hear their first word? Another child to see himself in, to see you in, a life created by both of you, by the time heâs spread out on the couch half-listening to Kyungmin singing a song from Kpop Demon Hunters, somehow he mindlessly got his phone out, your contact information on the screen.Â
Somehow.Â
You donât pick up on his first try. So he calls again.Â
âIs Kyungmin okay?â
You sound like summertime. Even if your voice is ebbed in panic, burnt at the edges like youâre trying to contain the flame, you sound like the morning of August twenty-third, the morning he met you, fifteen years ago.
âHeâs fineââ
âWhat do you want?â
The flame burns freely once more.Â
He didnât really think this far. Tongue-tied, he sputters over his next words, âI- um, just- uhââ
âWooyoung,â your voice is stern, a warning. It doesnât help how each one of his limbs has seemed to lock up. âWhat do you want?â
âYou.â Fuck his brain and his vocal chords for not working as a team. He lets the following pause settle, hoping youâd take it as a joke, at least. If this was a month ago you wouldâve hung up as soon as he said Kyungminâs fine.Â
âWell you fucked that up,â you say matter-of-factly, as if he didnât know it down to his very fucking soul. Closing his eyes, bringing his palm to his forehead, he sighs. âIs there anything in particular that requires you calling my phone at six oâclock on a Tuesday?â
âAm I allowed to talk to you?â
âNo.â
âWhat?â Thereâs a part of him that feels like throwing the same tantrum Kyungmin threw yesterday. âWhy not?â
âBecause youâre a deceitful, selfish asshole, and a pain in my fucking ass.â
His lips thin, face going flat. Can he blame any of this on pregnancy hormones yet?
âLookââ
âNo.â
âPleaseââ
âNo.â
âHoly shit can I please just fuckingââ
âNo.â
And the line runs dead. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, throwing his phone on the couch beside him. He groans after watching it bounce to the floor, sinking deeper into the tough, barely broken-in cushions, knees spreading, heâs really fucking close to throwing that tantrum.Â
According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.
Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.
The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.
Use the stairs, Your father paid good money for those.
Sorry. I'm excited.
Here's the graduate.
We're very proud of you, son.
A perfect report card, all B's.
Very proud.
Ma! I got a thing going here.
You got lint on your fuzz.
Ow! That's me!
Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.
Bye!
Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house!
Hey, Adam.
Hey, Barry.
Is that fuzz gel?
A little. Special day, graduation.
Never thought I'd make it.
Three days grade school, three days high school.
Those were awkward.
Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around The Hive.
You did come back different.
Hi, Barry. Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.
Hear about Frankie?
Yeah.
You going to the funeral?
No, I'm not going.
Everybody knows, sting someone, you die.
Don't waste it on a squirrel.
Such a hothead.
I guess he could have just gotten out of the way.
I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day.
That's why we don't need vacations.
Boy, quite a bit of pomp under the circumstances.
Well, Adam, today we are men.
We are!
Bee-men.
Amen!
Hallelujah!
Students, faculty, distinguished bees,
please welcome Dean Buzzwell.
Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of 9:15.
That concludes our ceremonies And begins your career at Honex Industries!
Will we pick our job today?
I heard it's just orientation.
Heads up! Here we go.
Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times.
Wonder what it'll be like?
A little scary.
Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group.
This is it!
Wow.
Wow.
We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life.
Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to The Hive.
Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey!
That girl was hot.
She's my cousin!
She is?
Yes, we're all cousins.
Right. You're right.
At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence.
These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology.
What do you think he makes?
Not enough.
Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman.
What does that do?
Catches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it.
Saves us millions.
Can anyone work on the Krelman?
Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones.
But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot.
But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life.
The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that.
What's the difference?
You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years.
So you'll just work us to death?
We'll sure try.
Wow! That blew my mind!
"What's the difference?"
How can you say that?
One job forever?
That's an insane choice to have to make.
I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life.
But, Adam, how could they never have told us that?
Why would you question anything? We're bees.
We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth.
You ever think maybe things work a little too well here?
Like what? Give me one example.
I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about.
Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach.
Wait a second. Check it out.
Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!
Wow.
I've never seen them this close.
They know what it's like outside The Hive.
Yeah, but some don't come back.
Hey, Jocks!
Hi, Jocks!
You guys did great!
You're monsters!
You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!
I wonder where they were.
I don't know.
Their day's not planned.
Outside The Hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what.
You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that.
Right.
Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime.
It's just a status symbol.
Bees make too much of it.
Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it.
Those ladies?
Aren't they our cousins too?
Distant. Distant.
Look at these two.
Couple of Hive Harrys.
Let's have fun with them.
It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock.
Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom!
He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me!
Oh, my!
I never thought I'd knock him out.
What were you doing during this?
Trying to alert the authorities.
I can autograph that.
A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades?
Yeah. Gusty.
We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow.
Six miles, huh?
Barry!
A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it.
Maybe I am.
You are not!
We're going 0900 at J-Gate.
What do you think, buzzy-boy?
Are you bee enough?
I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means.
Hey, Honex!
Dad, you surprised me.
You decide what you're interested in?
Well, there's a lot of choices.
But you only get one.
Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day?
Son, let me tell you about stirring.
You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around.
You get yourself into a rhythm.
It's a beautiful thing.
You know, Dad, the more I think about it,
maybe the honey field just isn't right for me.
You were thinking of what, making balloon animals?
That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger.
Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey!
Barry, you are so funny sometimes.
I'm not trying to be funny.
You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer!
You're gonna be a stirrer?
No one's listening to me!
Wait till you see the sticks I have.
I could say anything right now.
I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!
Let's open some honey and celebrate!
Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!
I'm so proud.
We're starting work today!
Today's the day.
Come on! All the good jobs will be gone.
Yeah, right.
Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal...
Is it still available?
Hang on. Two left!
One of them's yours! Congratulations!
Step to the side.
What'd you get?
Picking crud out. Stellar!
Wow!
Couple of newbies?
Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!
Make your choice.
You want to go first?
No, you go.
Oh, my. What's available?
Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think.
Any chance of getting the Krelman?
Sure, you're on.
I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.
Wax monkey's always open.
The Krelman opened up again.
What happened?
A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one.
Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.
Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!
I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about.
What life? You have no life!
You have no job. You're barely a bee!
Would it kill you to make a little honey?
Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you.
Martin, would you talk to him?
Barry, I'm talking to you!
You coming?
Got everything?
All set!
Go ahead. I'll catch up.
Don't be too long.
Watch this!
Vanessa!
We're still here.
I told you not to yell at him.
He doesn't respond to yelling!
Then why yell at me?
Because you don't listen!
I'm not listening to this.
Sorry, I've gotta go.
Where are you going?
I'm meeting a friend.
A girl? Is this why you can't decide?
Bye.
I just hope she's Bee-ish.
They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena?
To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream!
Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering.
A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events?
No. All right, I've got one.
How come you don't fly everywhere?
It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster.
Yeah, OK, I see, I see.
All right, your turn.
TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane!
You don't have that?
We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease.
Oh, my.
Dumb bees!
You must want to sting all those jerks.
We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us.
So you have to watch your temper.
Very carefully.
You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust.
Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?
Yeah.
What is wrong with you?!
It's a bug.
He's not bothering anybody.
Get out of here, you creep!
What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?
Yeah, it was. How did you know?
It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.
You've really got that down to a science.
I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.
I'll bet.
What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this?
How did this get here? cute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select?
Is he that actor?
I never heard of him.
Why is this here?
For people. We eat it.
You don't have enough food of your own?
Well, yes.
How do you get it?
Bees make it.
I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it!
There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing!
It's organic.
It's our-ganic!
It's just honey, Barry.
Just what?!
Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing!
You've taken our homes, schools,hospitals! This is all we have!
And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this.
I'm getting to the bottom of all of this!
Hey, Hector. You almost done?
Almost.
He is here. I sense it.
Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around.
You're busted, box boy!
I knew I heard something.
So you can talk!
I can talk. And now you'll start talking!
Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier?
I don't understand.
I thought we were friends.
The last thing we want to do is upset bees!
You're too late! It's ours now!
You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword!
You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio!
Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where!
Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!
Crazy person!
What horrible thing has happened here?
These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now
they're on the road to nowhere!
Just keep still.
What? You're not dead?
Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed?
To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here.
I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off!
I'm going to Tacoma.
And you?
He really is dead.
All right.
Uh-oh!
What is that?!
Oh, no!
A wiper! Triple blade!
Triple blade?
Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!
Why does everything have
to be so doggone clean?!
How much do you people need to see?!
Open your eyes!
Stick your head out the window!
From NPR News in Washington,
I'm Carl Kasell.
But don't kill no more bugs!
Bee!
Moose blood guy!!
You hear something?
Like what?
Like tiny screaming.
Turn off the radio.
Whassup, bee boy?
Hey, Blood.
Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see.
Wow!
I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours.
Bees hang tight. We're all jammed in.
It's a close community.
Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own.
What if you get in trouble?
You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack!
At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls.
Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.
You got to be kidding me!
Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee!
Hey, guys!
Mooseblood!
I knew I'd catch y'all down here.
Did you bring your crazy straw?
We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit.
What is this place?
A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead.
They are pinheads!
Pinhead.
Check out the new smoker.
Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000!
Smoker?
Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out.
They make the honey, and we make the money.
"They make the honey, and we make the money"?
Oh, my!
What's going on? Are you OK?
Yeah. It doesn't last too long.
Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls?
Our queen was moved here. We had no choice.
This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen!
What is this?
Oh, no!
There's hundreds of them!
Bee honey.
Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale!
This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something.
Oh, Barry, stop.
Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor.
Do these look like rumors?
That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this?
He's been talking to humans.
What? Talking to humans?!
He has a human girlfriend. And they make out!
Make out? Barry!
We do not.
You wish you could.
Whose side are you on?
The bees!
I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night.
Barry, this is what you want to do with your life?
I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees!
Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked
your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop.
I remember that.
What right do they have to our honey?
We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!
Even if it's true, what can one bee do?
Sting them where it really hurts.
In the face! The eye!
That would hurt.
No.
Up the nose? That's a killer.
There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters.
Hive at Five, The Hive's only full-hour action news source.
No more bee beards!
With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Chung.
Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.
And I'm Jeanette Ohung.
A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally!
Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon.
Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.
Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from The Hive. I can't do this"?
Bees have never been afraid to change the world.
What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?
Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.
We were thinking of stickball or candy stores.
How old are you?
The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century.
You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too.
It's a common name. Next week...
He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots...
Next week...
Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em.
Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live.
Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish.
In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness!
It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.
Honey, her backhand's a joke!
I'm not gonna take advantage of that?
Quiet, please.
Actual work going on here.
Is that that same bee?
Yes, it is!
I'm helping him sue the human race.
Hello.
Hello, bee.
This is Ken.
Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.
Why does he talk again?
Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working.
But it's our yogurt night!
Bye-bye.
Why is yogurt night so difficult?!
You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours!
Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help.
Frosting...
How many sugars?
Just one. I try not to use the competition.
So why are you helping me?
Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now.
Those are great, if you're three.
And artificial flowers.
Oh, those just get me psychotic!
Yeah, me too.
Bent stingers, pointless pollination.
Bees must hate those fake things!
Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done.
Maybe this could make up for it a little bit.
This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.
I guess.
You sure you want to go through with it?
Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty!
It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak.
What have we gotten into here, Barry?
It's pretty big, isn't it?
I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day.
You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers?
Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade.
What's the matter?
I don't know, I just got a chill.
Well, if it isn't the bee team.
You boys work on this?
All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding.
All right. Case number 4475,
Superior Court of New York,
Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session.
Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively?
A privilege.
Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world?
I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed.
Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us.
If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean.
I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches!
Talking bee!
How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry?
They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids!
Mr. Benson?
Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives.
Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys!
I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are!
I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice!
Call your first witness.
So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have.
I suppose so.
I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron!
Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms.
Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term.
I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you?
No.
I couldn't hear you.
No.
No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey.
They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.
You mean like this?
Bears kill bees!
How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away.
So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. Where have I heard it before?
I was with a band called The Police.
But you've never been a police officer, have you?
No, I haven't.
No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name.
Oh, please.
Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!
That's not his real name?! You idiots!
Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005.
Thank you. Thank you.
I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow.
I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?
Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir?
Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now!
This isn't a goodfella.
This is a badfella!
Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?!
Order in this court!
You're all thinking it!
Order! Order, I say!
Say it!
Mr. Liotta, please sit down!
I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side.
Are we doing everything right, legally?
I'm a florist.
Right. Well, here's to a great team.
To a great team!
Well, hello.
Ken!
Hello.
I didn't think you were coming.
No, I was just late I tried to call, but... the battery.
I didn't want all this to go to waste,
so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.
Oh, that was lucky.
There's a little left. I could heat it up.
Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.
So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby.
That's where I usually sit. Right... there.
Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill.
You think I don't see what you're doing?
I know how hard it is to find the right job. We have that in common.
Do we?
Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out.
That's just what I was thinking about doing.
Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.
I'm going to drain the old stinger.
Yeah, you do that.
Look at that.
You know, I've just about had it with your little Mind Games.
What's that?
Italian Vogue.
Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.
A lot of ads.
Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine?
Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here!
I love the smell of flowers.
How do you like the smell of flames?!
Not as much.
Water bug! Not taking sides!
Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat!
This is pathetic!
I've got issues!
Well, well, well, a royal flush!
You're bluffing.
Am I?
Surf's up, dude!
Poo water!
That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings!
Kenneth! What are you doing?!
You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it!
We need to talk! He's just a little bee!
And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time!
Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life?
 No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them!
Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...
My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster!
Goodbye, Ken.
And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man!
I'm sorry about all that.
I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it!
I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it.
Oh, well.
Are you OK for the trial?
I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas.
We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.
Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers...
Yeah.
Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over.
Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees.
You got the tweezers?
Are you allergic?
Only to losing, son. Only to losing.
Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know.
What exactly is your relationship to that woman?
We're friends.
Good friends?
Yes.
How good? Do you live together?
Wait a minute... Are you her little... bedbug?
I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children?
Yeah, but...
So those aren't your real parents!
Oh, Barry...
Yes, they are!
Hold me back!
You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson?
He's denouncing bees!
Don't y'all date your cousins?
Objection!
do not kill me keep your pitchforks at home. happy april fools motherfuckers
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pairing: model!San x model!reader x model!Wooyoung
content: mfm, porn w/ a little bit of plot, model au, fem reader, double pen, fingering, them kissing also, wooyoung is reader's bf, asking for consent is hot, but doing it w/o protection isn't! some breeding kink hidden in there, squirting, dirty talk, some spit?, petnames (doll, love, princess, baby) wc: 3.5k
â루ě: i never wrote this much smut in one sitting, esp not this many words. take it from the freak that overtook my brain at these fine dawn hours. also take this as a late valentines gift or an early birthday gift idk guys
likes comments and reblogs are appreciated!! will proof read it in the morning
âJust like that, yesâ, the director called out, flashes and clicks of cameras everywhere around you. âA little bit closer to his - oh my god - so good, yesâ The photographer was just shooting shots mindlessly, as he heard the director call out instructions, his voice authoritative and bouncing off every wall in the big space.
Wooyoung was watching you from behind the scenes like usual. Phone dangling from his hand as he scrolled on social media, not particularly paying attention to his best friend and girlfriend on set.
âOkay, now, maybe just seductively pull her panties out and let it snap backâ, he called out again, and San did just that. âAmazing, do it a few times again.â He hummed appreciative noises in the back of his throat, eyes shining as he took in your tempting poses.
âDo we have the video cam on? I feel like this would work well on that,â he called out to no one in particular again. Staff came with video cameras now, swarming the scene you and San were creating. âBut what would I even do without two such good models?â
The bright lights of the set were melting the minimal makeup you had on, making your face feel sticky and uncomfortable. How could you even feel comfortable? This was hell on earth. the constant clicking of cameras around you, letting them photograph you in underwear, not saving a piece of you that won't be on the internet. But at least it paid well.
The director could've been more subtle in checking you out, especially in front of the guys. If Woo were paying attention, he would've already killed him with his gaze - and San, too, for his hand placement, even though its purely professional.
The frown was begging to break through the masked emotion on your face. Something about this set was way more intimidating and alluring than your normal; maybe it was the sweat running down your side where San has been touching you. The knowledge of other people being in the room while he was doing it so sensually - especially in your boyfriend's presence. Not like he would ever shareâŚ
â
Turns out he would.
"You've been practically begging to get our hands on you, doll," Wooyoung whispered in your ear while San worked on your bra's clasp, freeing your tits to the cold changing room's air, making your nipples perk instantly. "You think he didn't smell your arousal from right next to you?" he bit your collarbone, hard, pulling a raw moan from your chest. You felt him smile against your chest before he looked deep in your eyes, "Hell, be grateful if the director didn't get a whiff of it," a chuckle rumbled deep from his ribs.
San's palms danced along your sides, caressing your silky skin, just to wrap them around you and get the branded bra off you. As soon as it left your body, his hands fondled your breasts, moans escaping your mouth at his mere touch.
While that happened, Wooyoung peeled your wet panties back, pulling them to the side to slide a finger through your folds, dipping them knuckle deep into you, only to pull them away just as fast as they came. Everything was happening so fast, the sensations of San's fingers rolling your nipples, Wooyoung sinking to his knees in front of you - it was way too fast, catching you off guard.
But there was no time to stand there and stare at your boyfriend, trying to figure out his intentions, because San got a hold of your chin, forcing you to turn your face to him as he kissed you deeply. His kiss was different from what you were used to. Wooyoung kissed slowly, biting your lips teasingly, and pulling back here and there to put his forehead against yours and smile at you.
San was all teeth and tongue, harshly reminding you of the fact that it wasn't your boyfriend. He kissed with haste, yet deliberately, and unapologetically, almost as if he was trying to say, "turn off your thoughts."
The kiss broke when you pulled away from him, at the feeling of Wooyoung's tongue touching your clit, making your hands grab a handful of his blonde hair, tugging on it like a lifeline. One of San's hands stayed on your chin; it was soft, but demanding. The other joined yours on the blonde's head, guiding his face on your cunt, where he was rougher with his touch.
"Let him make you feel good, huh, princess?" he whispered, lips touching your earlobe, gently nipping at the skin. "You worked so hard today, looking pretty in front of a camera isn't something anyone could do," his chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled mockingly, and pushed his hardness into your ass. "Mmh, and you do it well too, huh?" he tsked, sarcastically puckering his lips, his eyebrows furrowing.
Wooyoung pushed one of your legs into San's hand, opening you up to his mouth for better access, so now he could lick his way from your hole to your clit, drawing a deep moan out of you. "fuuck⌠Woo, baby, that's so good," you stretched the syllables, throwing your head back onto the other man's shoulder. He moaned into you, the vibrations sending a chill down your spine, arching it against San, whose breath hitched at your ass pushing back into him.
His tongue worked hard on you, switching between licking deep and sensual strokes and slow little nips on your clit. He was looking at you and San from under his lashes, a wicked glint shining in his eyes at both of your heated gazes. He pulled away from your cunt, stopping the stimulation fully. But he didn't bother to stand up before spitting on your mound, letting it run down between your folds.
He looked proud of his work, head tilted playfully, looking deep into your eyes as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, but never really kissing you as you thought he would do so. Instead, his hand left your face, wrapped around the other man's neck, and he kissed him intensely, both of them moaning in the moment of the first touch.
They exchanged your taste in their mouths along with spit, and San's hands wrapped around your hips to easily let him rut his hips into your ass. Wooyoung didn't break from his lips, but let a hand fall from the taller man's neck to dip his fingers back between your folds, stimulating you while they kissed. Little did he know them kissing might've made you more aroused than all of the things they've done to you before.
It was a sight that's for sure, the two most prominent figures in your life - your boyfriend and his best friend - two very attractive people kissing right next to you while they both touched you, whose skin hadn't left yours. Something you will never tell them, but it's been a deep fantasy of yours.
Watching San wander around your and Wooyoung's house like he was at home, sweatpants low on his hips without a shirt on, getting casted to the same photoshoots with Calvin's, Diesel's and Skims' underwear line, letting him touch your body intimately, but just for the sake of pictures, and only professionally because the heat of his gaze always left his eyes when the cameras turned off. He never made a move before today, never let his hands wander on your body, finally letting him get a taste of you.
Your walls tightened around his fingers as he massaged that spongy spot in you. The moan it drew out of you, made them break their kiss and turn their attention back to you. Hungry gazes settle back on your writhing body, which was still held by San, and your hole scissorred open by Wooyoung.
Wooyung's face had a wide smirk on it. He stretched his neck to the side, tilting his head in the process, and fastening the pace of his fingers at the same time. Your moan was ragged, high, hands flying to San's hands on you for a better hold, nails already pushing crescent moons into his tan skin.
"You're taking it so well, m'love." his tone was honey sweet, overly sweet, and that's how you knew he could withdraw the pleasure from you any second now, but first, he would let that knot tighten in your lower abdomen, playing you dirty.
Your whines got closer together, and higher in pitch, and that's when he knew to pull his fingers out of you, robbing you of the feeling of euphoria. "Such a good girl, taking whatever is given to her," San whispered in your ear, his hand wandering for your hip to join Wooyoung's between your legs.
"Sannie," your boyfriend thought out loud, "She's so wet," his lips curled, "She would let you do anything, right baby?" Uncoherent moans and whines came from your mouth, and both men chuckled at your desperation. "So worked up, ready to take cock, hm?" he questioned, as he felt San's fingers start rubbing your clit, in soft circular motions, making your hips chase the stimulation. "Maybe you even want to take two todayâŚ" That wonder got both men groaning.
Both of their hands left the place you needed them to touch the most, backing you up against the table in the break room, turning you around and folding you over it in one motion. "PleaseâŚ" your voice was weak, whiny, ready to voice anything to get one of them inside you.
"What do you need, love?" San asked from behind you, gently pulling your panties down your legs, letting them fall where they may.
"You," a breathy moan left you as his hips ruttend into you. Your wetness unmistakably staining the cotton of his briefs, making his eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of it on his sensitive mushroom tip. Wooyoung settled next to you, resting against the edge of the table, his hand smoothing down your hair, with a lopsided smile on his face.
San, behind you, was pushing his shorts down with a quick movement, pushing his head through your folds with ragged movements, pulling moans out of both your mouths. His head lolled back with the contact, savouring your wetness on him. He was teasing at first, not pushing into you quite yet, but thrust his length forward, letting it glide between your folds all the way to your clit.
His cock felt girthier than your boyfriend's, but sensations were quick to overtake your senses already, eyes closing gradually with each slide of his dick, and mouth opening wider and wider until your chin pushed against the hard surface of the table.
Wooyoung tried to look at both of you, San's pleasure-ridden expression and your falling apart one. His hand travelling to palm his own cock through the rough denim of his pants, trying to relieve his painful arousal.
"Stop teasing her, Sannie, don't be so cruel." Wooyoung chuckled over your whines' rising volume, "let her have it, she was so goodâŚ" freeing his own cock as he spoke, extending his hand in front of your head, "Spit in my hand, love."
As your saliva hit his hand, San thrust into you with one quick motion, pushing all air out of your lungs, with a breathy moan, oh, and was he girthier than Wooyoung. "Fuck..." his head was still hanging towards the ceiling, praying to every God not to come as soon as he hits your cervix.
His pace was brutal, punishing even though all you've been is pliant and good in their hands. The table's creaking, wet slaps, and breathy moans bounced off the four walls, making the atmosphere so much more intimate and close.
"You're so tight around me," San grunted from behind you, walls pulsating with every snap of his hips, so devoted to chasing his pleasure, dying to paint your insides, "made for us, right?"
A chuckle escapes from the man next to you, his hand matching the pace San's hips have in you, "such a wonder why we never done this beforeâŚ" The pleasure was overtaking your senses, eyes rolling back into your head, that specific tightness in your lower stomach becoming more prominent with each time his head pushed against your pulsing spot.
The orgasm had you seeing stars, with the previous teasings, coming hard around his cock with a loud moan, only to Wooyoung slide three fingers into your open mouth, "Baby, you have to be quieter, some staff are still outside," he murmured as he leaned against your ear, his breath hot on your cheeks. "We can't exactly let them know two men are ruining you, can we now?"
You shook your head as best as you could with his fingers stuffing your mouth, trying to escape San's iron-hold on your thighs from the overstimulation. Still, he didn't seem like he was about to stop any time soon, pushing you into another orgasm so quickly after the first. "n-no.. stop, ah- Sannie," body burning in a way it rarely did, muffled moans and words escaping around the fingers in your mouth.
"Can I come inside her?" he tried, calmly talking over your ragged moans, his cock pulsing inside you. Wooyoung couldn't even let a word out before the other man's release painted your insides, mixing with your own, but his cock was still half hard inside you, still pushing his load deeper.
Wooyoung's hands were tugging your head up so his lips could connect with yours in a kiss, letting your body relax in his hold. His hand never stopped on his own cock, it only slowed down its pace, dragging it out as slow and measured as he could. He was moaning inside your mouth, tongue mapping out every part of you.
San slowly slid out of you, as he watched your boyfriend kiss you, a moan escaping both of your mouths, making Wooyoung pull away from you, resting his forehead against yours, "You think you could take both of us, doll?" his thumb played with your lower lip, gently pulling it down and letting it snap back, as a smile played on his lips.
You felt San's gaze on your bare back, even dropping back down to your cunt, where your mixed juices flowed out of you, wetting the inside of your thighs artfully.
You nodded against Wooyoung's head, gulping a bit of spit down your throat, even though your mouth felt so dry. You never took two at the same time before, especially not someone their size. Wooyoung liked to play around in bed with you, sometimes putting his fingers inside you with his cock, stimulating both of you further, stretching you beyond limits.
Maybe he had always been prepping you for this, to take him and his pretty best friend in you at the same time. Let them rub against each other inside your pulsing walls, making you come around them, pushing them over the edge with only a few thrusts.
His hands settled on your waist, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before guiding you to the couch. He looked at San with a wicked glint in his eyes, before kicking his jeans down, while you tugged the shirt over his head. Then he settled on the couch, hands instantly going back to your hips, tugging you down with him.
"Are you gonna be a good girl and take both of us, baby?" you could only nod at his question, feeling both his tip prodding at your entrance, and San came closer to the couch behind you, stroking his already hardening dick. "I can feel San's come in you," he grunted, looking down where you were about to be connected, before throwing his head back with a groan.
You pushed him down, with a soft shove from your hands, reaching down to line his length up with your entrane before sitting down on it, "better push it right back then." All three of you moaned as you sat down on him, his cock easily gliding through your walls with San's release. If he could also slide in this easily.
Wooyoung's hands found their place on your waist, pulling you up from him, as the couch dipped behind you, and another hand joined your boyfriend's below your ribs. "Are you still sure about this princess?" his voice was husky and low, making the hairs stand on the back of your neck.
"Yes, please, Sannie, put it inside-" you whined breathily, brows furrowing together, just like when you first came, but this time in frustration. Wooyoung was already inside you, but held you so still that no stimulation came from it, and San was just lining up with your entrance, moving so calmly like you had all day. "Please, just put it in, I can't take it any-"
The words died in your mouth as he started pushing in, a hiss came from both men's mouths, eyes closing in the overwhelming pleasure. San was slow with it, not as mean as he was before with his hips, letting all of you get used to the new sensation.
When he bottomed out, a guttural moan came from them, their tips rubbed against each other, almost already making it too much, and you were already done for. As soon as he started pushing into your walls, they were pulsing around them, the stretch so good, making you feel so full.
"Oh my-" Wooyoung moaned under you, his breath hitching when San started moving, his hands holding onto your waist - and Wooyoung's hand, grabbing at it hard, grounding himself. He had never been with a woman and felt the immediate need to come, and you've done that to him twice already today, but this was different from the earlier stimulation. Your insides were stretched around them, making it tighter, warmer, and so much more intense to feel.
There was something so intimate about this; other than the actual intrusion of both of them in you, their praises hit your ears, but never actually made it to the point where you could comprehend it over the overwhelming sensations.
They started moving in tandem, Wooyoung's hips working up into you while San did the same from behind you, splitting you way beyond your limits. You were a moaning mess, no actual thought behind your eyes, and Wooyoung clearly saw when his chuckle hit your ears, "already fucked dumb princess?"
His words went over your ears, you folded over him, both men working hard so you don't actually fall from the couch. "Such a pretty sight-fuck," San moaned, looking where you were connected, hypnotised by the way you took their lengths.
It didn't need too many thrusts from them to have you shaking in their hold, thighs begging to let your weight fall against the man under you, but they held you up, fucking you through your orgasm while whispering sweet little nothings to you.
The sight of your eyes rolling back into your head, and the endless moans reverberating off the walls, got Wooyoung closer than he would've liked, "'nna fuck you full of our come, baby," he groaned, thrusting harder and faster up into you, making San even more vocal than he was before. "make you pregnant with one of our's baby alright?"
His hand came down on your belly, caressing the silky skin there, right over the bump their cocks caused, and he pushed down there softly, his own moan escaping from his mouth, "Feel this, baby?" You nodded at him, head rolling back against San's shoulders, thighs burning as you bounced on them, helping their movements.
It took one perfect trust from San against your spot for you to come again, tightening even more around them, as liquid spills down your thighs, soaking your man's abdomen, and San's thighs, "Fuck, princess-" one of them moans, following you close with their high. Your thighs shaking from the overwhelming feeling, tears running down your cheeks, messing up whatever makeup you still had on.
The other follows with their orgasm too, twitching and pulsing deep inside you, as you collapse against Wooyoung's chest. His hands instantly wrap around you, pulling you closer, but making you all whine as the movement makes San slip a little bit out of you, but he doesn't stretch the euphoria long.
He pulls out of you, crashing against the side of Woo, his head resting against the shorter one's chest, with a content sigh. "How come we've never done this before?" your voice muffled against Wooyoung's skin.
Both men chuckle at your question, but don't actually have answers for you. They are good in the comfortable silence that has settled over the room, letting all of you rest after an exhausting day. But then the realisation comes over you, you're still in the changing room at a studio, both sets that were on you and San ruined, with bodily fluids you are sure the brand won't ask for back, but there is still a bigger question at stake, "How the fuck do we get out of here without getting it to everyone's knowledge what happened in here?"
âŽâ・°⊠tonight - yunho x fem!reader x mingi
â Ë。𦹠SMUT 18+ MDNI, theyâre mean like mean as hell, size kink like âtinyâ as a name take it however u want, like a few lines of daddy kink, mxm action but just kissing rly, threesome, wet nâ fuckinâ messy, no more spoilers thatâs all u get
â Ë。𦹠wc 7.7k
â Ë。𦹠a/n this was a commission!! thank u to the lovely yestodayys cult member who let me run with her idea and well. create this! i had SO MUCH FUN and i'm glad u love it and now u all get to read it too <3
The bar has been refurbished since the last time you came here.
The overall layout is still generally the same; during your search for your friends, youâve looked in the ladiesâ room - still to the left of the bar, cramped, only two stalls, line way too long, though it isnât the hospital powder pink it once was - and in the smoking area, thus far. The latter looks pretty much the same, although you admit they canât really change that much; beneath your denim jacket, youâre still only wearing a minidress and boots and itâs fucking cold.Â
Escaping back inside seems the best idea. Realistically, if theyâre not there or in the restroom or here, in the main room with the bar, you may as well just get over it. Thereâs no signal in this place for you to text them either - there never has been - and you donât want to leave this early. You can still have a good night. You undoubtedly know some of the people here anyway - hell, maybe youâll find a man.Â
Itâs the overall vibe thatâs changed more than anything else; you think they must be going for some sort of seventies concept now, while before it was largely unthemed. It seems to bring more customers like this - the place is packed full on a tacky illuminated dancefloor, no one dressed the part, though beneath the flashing lights and disco ball you can't really tell. Itâs flashy, somewhat exciting; itâs why you decided to wear your vintage denim jacket, even if no one else was going to play along.
The drink youâve been nursing is still over half full, so you bypass the bar and go straight to the dancefloor. The music doesnât match the vibe either, but youâre not bothered, swaying in your spot to the random dance song they have playing and taking a generous gulp of the liquid to ease yourself in.
Okay, it definitely feels like a better time now. Perhaps the rebrand has had some effect. You move your hips, jacket falling down your bare shoulders before catching on the strap of your bag.Â
Lost in your own world, you almost miss it as you turn around to look amongst the crowd; but no, clear as day, tall and attractive enough to make your heart stop - two men, one in baggy clothes and an obnoxious fur coat and one in tighter, flared jeans, long sleeve tight across a toned, broad chest, sipping on their drinks, staring at you like a pint of water in the middle of a desert.Â
You see them after they see you. Youâre not sure how long theyâve been looking at you, these two men, but god theyâre fixated and it makes you stop too. They canât look away, both of their gazes trailing down your body as you move and sway with your drink in your hand, and your breath catches in your throat - not that youâre complaining, though. Theyâre handsome, though you assume they came together and will be leaving together too, judging by the way theyâre glued to each otherâs sides.Â
The taller one seems to have more of a grip on the situation than the other man, but theyâre both intimidating, domineering. He whispers something in the other manâs ear, long fingers brushing at his neck. Their eyes still don't leave you though, and the shorterâs plump lips break into a grin, leering, too satisfied for someone who hasnât even spoken to you - let alone touched you. He mustâve said something he likes.Â
You canât help yourself. You smile back, and he flicks a few dark blue strands out of his forehead, taking a sip of the liquid heâs got in his glass before he slams it down on the table decisively. He says something else to the other man, something you canât even try to lip read because he turns his back to you. He gives him a cheeky smile, almost like heâs doing something wrong, and begins to push through the crowd on the dancefloor. You stand dead still.
You wonder about the situation between them. Clearly, theyâre more than friends, and it seems like the taller is the one in control, but - whatâs this? The shorter man is approaching you, his too-large brown fur coat seeming ridiculous in the heat of the bar, but you see as he gets closer that heâs got nothing but a waistcoat and baggy trousers underneath. He shoots a few amused looks back at the other man, who looks less than pleased at his misbehaving, but it doesnât sway him - once heâs at you, he pulls you into him so your back is pressed against his front and whispers in your ear just loud enough for you to hear him.
âWanna dance?â
Do you? Fuck yeah, you do - and with his partner too, if heâs up for grabs. For now though, you suppose one will have to do, because as you smile flirtatiously in response and the DJ changes the music to something else - something sultry, heavy, with a solid beat - the man starts to grind his hips so sensually you forget everything else. Heâs good at this, angling you with a firm palm on the plush of your tummy, fingers wrapping in the fabric of your minidress so that your hips grind back against him.Â
The fur of his coat is expensive, you can tell just by feeling it when your hands go back to grip on his arms, and his teeth bite into his bottom lip when you grab at him.He lets you balance yourself with your hold, his own hand moving up to your chest, both of you moving in a sinuous movement that has you realising how good heâd be in bed if he dances like this.Â
Just before you forget, ring-clad knuckles come to the bottom of your chin and angle your head towards where you were previously looking. Heâs still there, the other man, and this time he looks positively engrossed, arms folding over his chest - his eyes donât leave the two of you, a smirk playing at his lips like he canât quite believe it. Itâs as if youâre performing for him, the two of you, nowhere near in control of the situation; you wonder what it is, this situation, and if itâll end in you getting fucked by both of them.
The man next to you chuckles before fully humping into the curve of your ass, unashamed; the line of his cock presses against you, half hard, fat and steadily growing like youâre doing a lot more than just grinding on each other in a packed bar. You gasp, muffled by the music but he seems to have heard it despite the noise - he nudges his nose into your neck, impatient.
âWe came together, me and him,â he says, tone casual though he has to shout a little to be heard. The words say everything despite being so few, but you donât falter, hoping that youâre moving against him in a way thatâs still inconspicuous enough to be passed off as a dance. âThat okay?â
You shrug as casually as you can, skin starting to feel a little heated. This is the jackpot, you think. âI donât mind taking two.â
âI bet you fuckinâ donât.â He huffs out a laugh. âDonât mind putting on a show either, do you? Iâm Mingi, by the way.â
âMm, hi Mingi,â you giggle, and Mingi shakes his head, disbelieving, a smile pulling at his lips. You canât believe it either, quite frankly, how well the nightâs turned out, and your head lolls back against his broad shoulder as you move, fur coat soft under your head, a grounding presence. The other man is still looking, and you find yourself drawn to his eyes, holding eye contact with him as you manage your next question, âwhatâs your boyfriendâs name?â
A hum, and then plump lips press a gentle kiss to your jaw. A shiver wracks through you, straight down your spine, and he does it again a few times just to watch the effect it has on you. âYunho,â he breathes, âhis name is Yunho. Shake this ass on me, let him see it.â
âHe likes to watch, huh?â You say, as if you have any problem with it whatsoever. The song changes, a dance track with an even dirtier beat now and you do as he says - youâre shaking your hips to the rhythm before you can feel embarrassed about it, everyone around you too occupied with their own dancing or flirting.Â
âThatâs a good fuckinâ girl,â he hums, hand moving from your front to your hips, fingers ghosting over the curve of your asscheeks where your hips get plusher and move into your thighs. Hands dig into flesh, and he groans, rutting against you once, twice, enough to have you squirming, starting to worry someone might notice. âFuck, look at that. Shit, should we just take you back now? I wanna tear this ass apart.â
You canât help it - you laugh again, hand coming to Mingiâs jaw to pull him forwards, his cheek pressed against yours. Yunho rolls his neck, tongue poking over his bottom lip before heâs placing his drink down and you think heâs made the decision for all three of you.Â
 âAnd him?â You murmur.
Mingiâs nose brushes against your cheek. âHeâll tear you apart too. Might even be nastier than me.â
âI find that hard to believe.â His hips hit you just right, slow, to the beat, and you breathe heavily when he spins you around to face him like heâs going to kiss you. Heâs pretty up close, sharp nose and dark blue hair and plump lips that form a predatory smile. âFuck, Mingi, take me home.â
âEager girl.â His head drops down, kissing you chastely square on the lips once, then twice. His lips are buttery soft and you chase them when he pulls away. He doesnât care that youâre in public, so neither do you - you press yourself against him harder, arms wrapping around his shoulders. âWe need to talk to Yunho.â
âNo need.â Another voice, and another set of big, big hands that wrap around your waist and pull you back into him. Youâre trapped between them now, because despite being unfamiliar with them you know whoâs just gripped you and gotten involved. âSheâs right, we should take her home. Youâre an aching little thing, hm?â
Fingers dip up under the hem of your minidress where it hangs around your thighs, nails scratching against your skin, teasing. Youâre not sure who it is this time, but the touch is so close to your panties that you whimper, the sound so broken that Yunhoâs head dips into the other crook of your neck with a deep sigh, mirroring where Mingi continues to bite at you the other side. âP-please, I canât take this anymore, I want you both, can we-â
âFine,â Yunho breathes, exasperated, and a firm, guiding grip comes to rest on the back of your neck. âLetâs get you home, tiny.â
âOn your knees.â A firm hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you down before you can decide to obey; you drop to your knees in your pretty dress, your legs bare, their carpet scratching against your skin. Like this, theyâre looming over you in a different way than before, and all you can see is long, long legs in baggy jeans and firm torsos heaving - theyâre waiting, perceiving you, seeing if youâll do anything else. Yunhoâs the first to speak again, grin wide when he turns to his partner, âthatâs it. Sheâs pretty like this, isnât she? Quiet, so needy sheâll do anything, waiting for us to just say.â
âSheâs beautiful,â Mingi says, fingers pulling your hair backwards to force you to look up at them properly. âSlutty, too.â
You whimper, squirming in his grip, though not enough to be told off for it. You wonder if theyâre hard already, fat lengths trapped in the confines of their pants, but you donât have long to think about it - Yunhoâs long fingers start working at his belt, and before long the leather is pulled out from the prongs and his button is being pushed open.Â
It exposes his black boxers, and you realise youâre not even looking at him anymore. Fixated on his crotch, you wait, mouth open and spit pooling at your bottom lip like a drooling dog. They both sound amused, but they donât make you wait, Yunho pushing down his boxers and revealing his tan shaft.Â
Thick, long and veiny, it springs against his stomach. It curves upwards, tip a darker shade and swollen, but not leaking just yet. The moan leaves your throat before you can help it. If Yunhoâs is like this, you canât imagine the other man - but fingers tighten in your hair and redirect you back before you can even turn to try and get a lot.Â
âMm, no,â Yunho murmurs, and you look back up at him. He looks pleased by how enthralled you are, a smile pulling at his lips, and his hand comes down to slap his shaft against your cheek once, twice. You shiver. âYou can show her yours too, Mingi, really get the slut going. She wants two at once, after all, donât you?â
âI do, I want both.â You nod dumbly, pathetically; Mingiâs resulting groan is delighted, low in his throat. His tongue licks at his teeth as he works at his own belt, and his baggy jeans drop with a rustling noise at his ankles, unashamed. Yunho has tucked his boxers underneath his balls but Mingiâs less reserved, shunning his boxers as quick as he can as Yunho starts slowly stroking half of his shaft inches away from your face.
Fuck.
Mingiâs big too, a little shorter but thicker again and his tip is leaking like a fucking faucet. If heâd left his boxers on a little longer youâd have seen the drops beading upon the fabric but heâs too impatient for that, already stroking his cock quicker than Yunho, moving hip to hip with the other man.Â
âYou want both?â He smacks his cock against your other cheek, laughing delightedly when you moan, nodding eagerly. âOpen your mouth then, thereâs a good whore.â
You blink, in a daze. âI- I canât fit both-â
âObviously,â Yunho scoffs. âUse your hand for the other. Are you stupid?â
Oh. Something must show on your face, a wordless reaction to his words because Yunhoâs grin turns predatory then, and when he grips your hair now itâs harsher, firmer than his boyfriend had done. You scramble to say something to quell this harshness, stammering, âN-not stupid, Iâve just neverâŚâ
Yunho bursts out laughing. Your gut clenches and your pussy burns in your panties, so slick and needy that you try to rut down the floor, to no avail. âNever had two cocks at once? We all know thatâs a fucking lie, baby. I think you need to stop talking.â
Heâs forcing you down on his cock before you can retort.
You still try to splutter something out despite your lips being wrapped taut, barely fitting just half his length into your mouth though he tries to fuck past the resistance of your throat anyway. Your words die in your throat, replaced by a strangled whine; Mingi grabs your hand himself, impatient and wraps your fingers around his cock - putting you to use.
Heâs wet from his precum already, soaked and sticky and veiny and it makes a slick noise when you start to move your fingers. Itâs hard to concentrate on both but thankfully you donât have to do much thinking; Yunho fucks himself into your mouth for you, skin salty with his own precum. Unable to do anything more than just be a ragdoll for them, you allow yourself to slump a little, mouth wrapped tight around one and hand around the other, hips just barely squirming where youâre sat. A noise leaves your throat when Yunho fucks into the resistance a few times, a deep groan leaving his own mouth.
âTight fucking throat, hm? How tight is that cunt gonna be?â
Mingi groans, and his fingertips press at your cheeks, feeling the thickness of Yunhoâs cock through your skin. He manages to move you over to him, and his shaft burns when it stretches your lips apart, thicker, wetter - you start to drool with tears biting at your eyes and he chuckles breathlessly at the sight of you.
âYou like it mean, huh?â He doesnât expect a response, voice gravelly as he starts to fuck your mouth. Heâs sloppier than Yunho, a little more careless, and the strangled noise you make is embarrassing when he forces his cock all the way down. It hurts your throat but he presses your nose into the tuft of his pubes like he doesnât really care, grinding his hips against your jaw, fingers pressing at your throat where he now bulges it instead.
When you manage to look up through a glassy gaze, you see them both together. Mingi captures Yunhoâs lips with his own, one hand leaving you to cup the other manâs jaw, their tongues intertwining messily between spit-slick lips. They both groan, deep and from their chests like theyâve been waiting for this all night - your whine is louder though, nails scratching at their thighs because youâve wanted to see it since you saw them together on the dancefloor. It forces saliva to bubble down your occupied lips, dripping over your chin and down to your throat, over Mingiâs rings.
If theyâre amused by your reaction, they donât separate for long enough to show it. Yunho tugs you to him again without even glancing your way, long fingers in your hair, and this time youâre able to get a momentum. Your mouth sinks down on him before he has time to force you there, your other hand coming to grasp Mingiâs slippery length, the saliva giving more than enough lubricant when you start to pump.Â
Like this - not being yanked around - youâre able to focus, and you canât help the noises that spill from your chest; your pussy is wet, drooling and dumb already, and they continue to make out above your head like itâs nothing that should affect you. Your gut burns, wrenching with need and want and something embarrassing because all youâve done is suck their cocks and youâre this desperate, but it doesnât stop you trying to get their attention.
Tongue digging into the underside of Yunhoâs tip, you pool spit into your mouth and it bubbles over your lips messily, letting you sink back down on him with a wetter, tighter suction. Heâs still too big to take too much comfortably but you force your mouth down, jaw be damned, hand occupied with another cock that you think youâre doing a decent rhythm with, and on the upwards stroke you press your tongue into his piss slit and suck hard.
It works. You hear the sharp inhale of breath, and he pulls away sharply from Mingi, lips parting in a louder noise just as the blue haired man moves to messily press open-mouthed kisses against his neck. He doesnât stop him, one hand going to his head to hold him there.
âDirty girl, knew you had it in you,â he murmurs, before his jaw goes slack in a groan, head rolling back where Mingi kisses him. Your hand has paused on the other man but if heâs annoyed, he doesnât show it, shaft bobbing uselessly as he bites at the curvature of Yunhoâs neck with his eyes on you, where youâre kneeling below them. âBet sheâs all gooey down there from sucking cock, too. Little hole clenching around nothing, slicking up her thighs, clit all swollen and hard.â
Mingi grunts, a primal noise. âCanât wait to look. Taste it, too. I know itâs fuckinâ pretty, all soaked and tight and- ah, fuck this, I gotta-â
Two hands underneath your armpits, and youâre thrown chest first onto the comfortable bed by a very strong grip. You have enough space left in your brain for the moment to present yourself, pushing up onto your knees and letting your front lay flat to curve your spine - Mingi groans in appreciation, wasting no time before heâs pulling your dress up to your waist and your panties down to your knees.Â
The cold air hits your cunt and you moan, trying to turn your head to the side to have a look at what heâs about to do to you before someone - youâre unsure who - pins it right back down, flat, suffocating.Â
âLet me have a look,â Mingi coos, and two thumbs come to pull your sticky folds apart. Youâre soaked, you can feel it - itâs smeared up to your asshole from how youâve pooled in your panties, and though you hope he hasnât noticed it, hasnât gotten any ideas, a deeper part of you hopes he ignores your pussy and eats that hole instead. âSheâs so fuckinâ messy. Fat little cunt too. When did you start leaking like a virgin, baby? When you were on your knees in front of our cocks, us stood above you like we fuckinâ own you?â
You canât reply - again, you donât think he wants you to. Is he even talking to you, or is he talking to her?
It was Yunho that pushed you down, you realise, because itâs the same second pair of hands that slide the straps of your dress down over your shoulders. Nudging the fabric down so that it all bunches at your waist, he scratches his fingernails over your spine on the way down, leaving you bare but feeling quite like something animalistic.Â
âMm, actuallyâŚâ A nose nudges at your core and then a tongue, fat and steady, is sliding through your folds and humming when he tastes your arousal, smacking his lips messily like heâs eating a good meal. âYouâve been wet even longer, havenât you? Since we danced in the bar. Oh, thatâs something. How pent up are you, sweetheart?â
You whine. Thereâs no way he could know that, not really, and you know heâs just teasing you but heâs right - you were.
He continues, wet tongue moving to lick circles over your clit as he slurs. âCanât blame you, âm desperate for this too.â
âStop talking and eat.â Yunho sounds amused. âPoor thing looks like sheâs gonna die if she doesnât get something.â
At least it makes Mingi move, his lips smacking wet over your pussy before his tongue slides through the plush of your folds. The bridge of his nose is sharp when it bumps into your perineum, his tongue tracing your hole before it pushes inside and he savours your arousal from the inside with a deep, gravelly moan, something that ricochets through you and makes you finally beg.
âYuyu,â You sound broken, too needy to think, and you feel it too - your head spins and you know you havenât done well verbalising it but Yunho somehow knows what you need, sliding two long fingers past your lips for you to suck on. It doesnât help, Mingiâs plush lips kissing down to your clit and making a home there, tongue darting underneath the hood to rub over you so intimately that you would never be able to stop the way you buck. Your hips fuck back onto his face but his strong forearm hooks around your tummy to keep you steady, your eyebrows furrowing in a subdued keen.
Yunho smiles, fucking his fingers into your mouth, watching the way you suck earnestly like itâs a cock - can you even tell the difference right now? Itâs like you can see the wonder on his face before he speaks, cock half hard against his thigh, âDo you need something inside, honey?â
Your resulting noise is loud, deep from your chest - youâd forgotten that was an option with the way his boyfriendâs lips are working over you, but before you can beg properly the man grunts, lips leaving you for a moment.
âIâm gettinâ her ready for you, babe. She can wait.â
âMm.â Yunho raises an eyebrow, confused, although his fingers leave your lips and brush over the base of his tummy almost instantly. âYou donât wanna go first? You were desperate a second ago-â
âAre you kidding me?â Mingi grins, all teeth that nip into your thigh as an afterthought, making you squeak. He ignores you, continuing like you canât hear him, âa pussy like this is even better when itâs been nutted in already. I love me some sloppy seconds.â
Before you can raise any kind of objection to being talked about like that, right over you while heâs between your legs, Mingiâs tongue dives back between your folds. He licks up your arousal and drools onto your heat, pushing further up, where his hands spread your cheeks and expose the smaller hole, the one that makes your face flush and gut wrench in embarrassment.Â
âBet youâd let us fuck this too,â he grumbles, and you nod, squirming in your place, as much as you can with the way his boyfriendâs pushing you down. âHow fucking filthy. You just met us and youâd already let us fuck your asshole open. God, youâre amazing, might be fuckinâ made for us.â
Something bubbles in your gut, something so needy that you canât help the garbled wail you let out. Itâs incoherent at first, but Yunho lets your head move just enough to verbalise what you need to, âWant you both, anything, please, please, give me cock-â
âGive me cock,â Yunho giggles, shaking his head in disbelief. âWhat a bimbo. Fine, Iâll give you cock, honey. Mingi, lemme move her.â
Mingi obeys instantly, pulling away from your slick cunt and thighs, letting you be manhandled again by the taller man onto your side. You know this one, deep in your lust-muddled brain, and you let one leg slide forward to display your core as he slides behind you, chest to your back. Heâs fully naked now - youâre not sure when this happened - and the palm he smooths your hair down with grounds you a little, other hand moving secure on your tummy.
âYâwant it?â He murmurs, and you see Mingi moving next to you, naked, muscled, distracting - your mouth waters. His eyes move down your body, over your flushed cheeks, teary eyes and down to your nipples, the curve of your tummy and the swell of your thighs; his hand moves to his cock, and you see his gaze move down Yunho, too, before he finally grips the base and starts to move up the vast length. Yunhoâs fingers tighten in your hair a little, bringing your attention back to him. âDonât get distracted, tiny. Talk to me. Do you want it?â
He moves his cock to the mess between your legs, pushing through arousal to get to your folds and at the resistance of your hole. The weight of it makes you gasp wetly, but he doesnât let you squirm away when you try, only pulling you back into it.Â
âS-So big, Yunho, I want it, please.â
âThere you go, good little slut,â He coos, satisfied, and pushes just the first inch in. Your hole clenches tight from the stretch, almost pushing him back out and he groans, using his grip on your thigh to pull you back onto it. âLet me in, baby.â
âC-Canât help it, ah-â
Something shifts in him then, and the next thrust of his cock is stronger, meaner, something that makes your walls give way to more of him, accompanied by a sharp bite to your neck. It hurts a little but it feels so good; your eyes roll back in your head with a keen, and Mingi huffs out a breath.
âOh, little bitch is so fuckinâ tight,â he moans, one palm coming to push your leg upwards, against your side, trying to open you up further. It doesnât help - heâs just far too big, your pussy tightening in protest despite how bad you fucking want it. âDo I have to split your hole open to get inside? Funny, âcause itâs fucking drooling around me like it canât get enough.â
One of his hands comes to rest on your breast, idle but firm, and his thumb swipes over your nipple just to make you gasp. You try to fuck yourself downwards but he really is too big, cockhead already hitting your cervix and it knocks the wind out of you. Mingiâs hand tightens on an upwards stroke of his shaft and he smiles, amused, eyes flicking between you and his boyfriend.
âLet him in, sweetheart. Heâll make it hurt.â
You try your best; squirming and whining in Yunhoâs hold you manage to slack your gummy walls enough for him to push more of his cock inside but it makes you squeal, too much all of a sudden, and his fingers move from your chest to your clit. His nails dig into it and you gasp, writhing away before his grip pulls your back to his chest again.Â
âWhat the fuck is this for if I canât fuck it? Useless little cunt otherwise, hm? Maybe I should just pull out, leave you-â
âNo, nonono, please, Yunho,â You babble, moving around enough that it forces more of his length in. This time he seems to push past something that allows him to sink in balls deep, and itâs so far inside, pressing at your cervix and you think you might cum already.
Yunho huffs, placated now that youâve let him in, yanking you backwards by your ass, letting the plumpness of it rock him into a bounce. It works, and he starts to fuck you steady, slow at first, letting you get used to it - his knuckles graze at your nipple before he pinches meanly, a breathless, chuckle of pleasure leaving him at your jolt.
âFu-uck, âs so- need more, more, please-â
âMore?â He asks, like he didnât know, and you nod dumbly. Youâre shocked by Mingi responding, not Yunho; walking on his knees towards you, his fingers come to your clit and roll it between his fingertips. Itâs too much all of a sudden, and Yunho starts to speed up, his long, ridged shaft cutting into your gummy walls. Mingiâs ministrations make your pussy easier, more slack, and Yunhoâs able to fuck quicker, cock not prohibited by how tight youâre squeezing around him. âThatâs it. There you go, Min, cocksleeveâs gushing like a little whore now.â
âMm, can feel it,â The man in question murmurs, eyes fixated on you like youâre the best thing heâs ever seen. Your eyebrows knit in pleasure, lips parting in a squeal when his thumb rubs over your bud firmly, and this time you feel it, the slick, sticky gush of your pussy with every thrust. It leaks over Mingiâs fingers and further down, to your thighs, Yunhoâs balls and his own lithe legs.Â
You feel dumb with it all, and youâre not even halfway through taking one.Â
âFeels nice like that, doesnât it?â Yunho sounds unaffected, and you whimper, nodding, âI can tell. Dirty cunt gushing like that, Iâd swear you came already.â
Mingi leans down on the bed, distracting you momentarily before thereâs something wet pressing at your clit. Itâs his tongue, you realise, and you canât control the hand that goes to that dark blue hair - he moans at the feeling of your fingers tightening, tugging, and you force his mouth closer, wet lips mouthing over your pussy until he hits Yunhoâs cock.Â
Mingiâs tongue moves over you again, licking over the intrusion of his boyfriend inside of you. It doesnât stop his movement, his cock still pistoning in and out while youâre forced to take, take, take, and when the shorter manâs lips purse and suck on your bud you writhe away, pleasure all-consuming.
Your orgasm hits you hard, beginning in the base of your tummy and making your thighs shake. One hand holds Mingi steady, and the other moves to Yunhoâs side, anchoring you through it, but your pussy clenches dumbly in a rhythm that makes the man inside grunt and bite your neck sharply. Your own noises are abused, loud and too incriminating, but neither men make a move to quiet you.
âRide it out, câmon,â Yunho says, voice hoarse, and you find it in your static body to fuck yourself on both men while your legs lock and your toes curl. âGood girl. There you go, thatâs it.â
It helps, quelling the strong climax into something steadier, nicer, and Mingiâs tongue flicks over your clit just enough for you to come down from it.Â
The kiss the older man gives you is controlled, a little awkward from the angle but it tells you everything you need to know. Youâre safe, youâre looked after and itâs exactly what you need after an orgasm that strong - his nose bumps your cheek when he kisses you deeper, giving you a few pecks as he pulls away; it makes you want more, but heâs already moving.
You realise too late that Yunho still hasnât finished, and he pushes you onto your front, leg still slightly raised from the way he had you. His hips hit your ass as he bottoms out again, and you gasp - itâs so deep, so much that you want him to cum soon, hope heâll cum soon and fill you up, and you remember you have another one to take after this. The realisation makes your pussy clench as he fucks inside and he lets out a stuttered breath against your shoulder, bumpy nose nudging at your jaw.
âYouâre okay,â He soothes you, and you nod, whimper soft. âIâm gonna cum soon, baby. Gonna make you take it, âkay? Then Mingiâs gonna fuck it back into you.â
âY-yeah,â you nod, and when Yunho starts to thrust again, punishing, Mingi seals your lips with his and swallows your noises. He kisses messy, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and he lets you suck on his tongue when you need something in your mouth again, not minding at all that your hands scramble at his broad shoulders for purchase.
You feel Yunho pull backwards, hands on the small of your back to hold you down, and itâs the sight of you and his boyfriend kissing that does him in. He gasps, letting out a shaky breath as he presses his hips tight to the plush of your ass, cockhead fucked so deep that it makes you try to squirm away again; Mingi keeps you still, giving you dirty, open-mouthed kisses and licking over your teeth.
Between your legs, you feel thoroughly used - when Yunho pulls out, cock softening a little, your pussy gushes fresh cum and as if itâs his queue, Mingiâs already moving over.
Yunho slaps your ass as he moves away from you, âAtta girl. Sheâs ready for you, Min.â
Fingers prod at your swollen hole, messy, creamy rivulets slicking down to Mingiâs rings as he spreads it open and inspects. If you had anything left in you, youâd feel embarrassed at the way heâs looking at you so intimately but well, heâs already done it once and youâre still horny. You shift back on the bed and chase his touch when he moves away, although you donât have long to be disappointed because the feeling of a blunt cockhead against you makes you push your hips up, front going slack again.
âLook at that. Dumb slut knows how to present for a cock,â Mingi chuckles, although thereâs no real bite to his words - his breath is shaky as he shuffles towards you, and seconds later thereâs inches of fat cock spearing you open because he canât wait himself at this point.
âO-oh,â You stutter, head raising and knocking back. You see Yunho, in front of you now, face so close to yours but itâs comforting rather than threatening. âFuck, itâs-â
âSsh, just feel it,â Yunho murmurs, stroking your cheek with one, big hand, and your eyes roll back into your head when he starts to thrust. His movements are deep and slow at first, letting you feel all of it, every vein and ridge and you swear you feel him leaking inside, too, when he pushes deep and pulls you flush against him like he isnât fucking your pussy open in front of his boyfriend.
Mingi whines, sharp, âTiny little pussy, so small, fuck-â his fingers hook around your shoulders, pulling you back onto him, âhow are you still so fucking tight?â Your own hands scramble in the sheets until your fingers hook into them for leverage, and you writhe, moaning so viscerally that Yunho pets your hair to calm you down. Mingiâs thicker than him so despite taking the older man first, the stretch of your hole to accommodate him has your eyes watering, his hips stuttering into the creamy mess of a hole that his boyfriend left. âCan I- fuck, I canât, I canât, canât play anymore-â
âMingi,â Yunho warns, but itâs softened by the grin curling his lips, fond.
âCanât, fuck, baby, I love your pussy,â Mingi babbles, and his hands move to your asscheeks, spreading them further, watching where his cock disappears into you. Itâs slick when he starts to move, a creamy ring around the base of his cock, wet plaps echoing around the bedroom when his balls begin to hit your clit steadily. âLove- love it, love it everytime- I love you.â
Something dawns on you. Youâre not playing anymore, not really, not the elaborate scene Yunho came up with late at night before you headed out to the bar you three met at - and your back bows towards the bed, curling away from your boyfriends,Â
âMmgh- I love you too,â You whimper, scrambling on the sheets for your third, your other boy. Fingers intertwine with yours immediately and he kisses your hairline, your nose, your lips; you cry out, head lolling against his. âYunho- Yuyu, Yuyu, love you-â
âI love both of you, although youâre both fucking pathetic,â Yunho laughs, smoothing your hair. âCanât even roleplay properly. Both of you cry like virgins as soon as I let him get inside of you.â
Mingiâs head drops to your shoulder, his weight pinning you down when he collapses atop of you. Youâre separated from Yunho but you donât mind at all when he starts to drill you properly - this is his favourite position, after all, it didnât matter if it was you or Yunho underneath him.Â
His hips donât stop moving, pistoning into your cunt where youâre flat on the bed, his lips parting in a deep groan, âPussyâs too good to think. Sorry, Yunho, p-promise it was hot.â
Heâs not sorry at all, you all know that. Yunho scoffs. âI know it was. You two acting like sluts on that fuckinâ dancefloor, just like you were all those years ago. Hard, leaking, wet in your pants looking at me. I could see how horny you were.â
âMmhm,â Mingi nods, delirious. Youâre not able to respond, chest clenching in pathetic wails every time he pushes deep, fucking the noises out of you, and his hand moves to your back, soothing over your spine until he slaps your ass hard just for the sake of it. âG-Good little toy, thatâs right, donât have to speak, just take it. Good girl.â
Heâs babbling again, nonsensical, praises and degradation into one - heâs always the same, and it always makes you gush easy for him. Yunho slides your hair out of your face, exposing flushed cheeks and spit slick lips, your eyes crossed with pleasure. The sight of you makes them both groan, and the older man plants a gentle slap on your cheek, gripping your jaw when you gasp.
âFucked dumb,â He muses. âHow pretty. Why donât you cry a little for him, hm? You know he loves that.â
âItâs so much,â you manage, and he nods, cooing at you. Itâs that which finally breaks you, and your chest bubbles with a sob, ripped harshly from you. ââS so much, I canât- canât take it, daddy, please!â
They laugh at you again, you hear them, though Mingiâs is a lot more in awe than the other manâs.Â
âWhoâs your daddy, baby?â Yunhoâs asking you, and itâs something he asks you often but it feels like youâre trying to move across clouds to respond to him. Everythingâs so soft, comforting but your pussy continues to get rammed, overwhelmed, and you squeal, legs knocking together when you feel his thrusts start to get harsher but staggered.Â
âB-both of you.â You slur. âBoth- daddy, fill me up too-â
It ignites something in Mingi - he pulls out, gripping himself at the creamy base and flipping you over by your waist again. Youâre on your back now, able to see them both, your boys; Yunho has that cheeky glint in his eyes that you love, looming over you with a half-hard cock and tousled, boyish hair - if you didnât know him, you would trust him.Â
Mingi distracts you, crowding into your space with furrowed eyebrows, thick thighs knocking your legs apart again before he sinks back inside. Yunho laughs at his impatience, hand smoothing over the younger manâs back as he starts to fuck you again and you know heâs really gonna cum now, moving so fast and hard that you both get knocked up the mattress a little.
You keen, âFucking- oh, oh, thatâs-â
âLanguage,â Yunhoâs hand moves and pinches your thigh, and you wince, legs locking around Mingi. He pins you back down and then moves his focus to your clit, rolling it between his fingers; itâs so wet that it feels too good too quickly. âGonna cum, arenât you, baby?â
Your eyes roll back into your head when his fingers move over you instead, firmer, rubbing circles that make you heave, trying to catch your breath. Unable to answer him again, he hums, displeased.
Thatâs right, you almost forgot. He lets you get away with some things earlier but you donât act like that around him, not really, only when youâre pretending like you donât know them. Now, you know them, and there are rules - that also means you beg to cum, and you thank whatever higher powers there be because you remember before you fall off the edge.
âPlease,â You struggle, nails scratching at both of them again, their arms this time, âplease, please let me cum. Daddy, daddy, please-â
Mingi growls, fixated, âIâm gonna fuckinâ cum, you better cum with me, tiny.â
âThere you go, honey. Your daddy said you can,â Yunho says, almost too sweet for you to believe but no, they did say that, and youâre squealing from it before they can take it back.Â
You gush again, fluttering and writhing where you lay and halfway through it, Mingi nudges the dark haired manâs head to press his cheek against yours at an angle and kisses you both.Â
Barely knowing what to do in your haze, they hold you still, tongues both messily sliding over yours, over each other - the man inside of you whimpers, thrusting harshly one last time, gasping against your mouths before he fills you with a fresh wave of cum. His cock throbs with it, pumping into you and when he canât take it anymore he collapses, head on your chest, full weight a little overwhelming.Â
Yunho kisses you a few times, fingertips moving to rub soft circles into your shoulders, your upper arms, before moving across your boyfriendâs scalp, massaging him too. He moans gratefully, exhausted, and you feel the same - your limbs are stiff and you groan when Mingi finally rolls off, slumping next to you in the wet sheets.
âIâll just be cleaning you up, honey.â Yunhoâs voice is gentler, and you hum, a smile creeping on your face - there he is, always in control. Mingi mumbles something that you donât quite catch, arm hooking around your tummy, but your boyfriend hears him, chuckling, âThat was referring to you, too.â
You want to laugh. âDonât tell me he was trying to move.â
Yunho shifts closer, wet towel suddenly soft against your skin, and when you finally open your eyes heâs there, still naked, cock soft against his thigh and you wonder if he came again, sometime during it all. âLike I said, both of you fuck like virgins. Dead afterwards. Perished, even.â
You canât argue. Youâre not planning on moving any time soon; although the sheets are ruined, youâre exhausted after all that. The boysâ roleplay ideas are always crazy but well, thereâs some that get a bit out of hand, like recreating the night you all met.
For the second time, Mingi grumbles nonsensically next to you. Yunho kisses the mole on the younger manâs cheek before kissing your hairline again.Â
âSpeaking of perished,â He murmurs, eyes shifting down to you playfully, putting on a dramatic voice, âI still think the next scene should be me, as Spider-Man, saving you and Min from possible perish-â
âEnough,â You grumble, kicking him softly with your foot. âGo to sleep.â
His laugh is so loud it makes Mingi kick him too, half-asleep, but then he really does settle, towel discarded on the floor. As if he was waiting for his presence to drop off properly, the younger man squirms closer on the mattress and reaches over you to tug Yunho in, pulling you into a pile, legs intertwined and a little sticky. Itâs soothing though, naked and cuddling with your men, and Mingi starts to snore almost instantly.
The man plastered to your back sighs, though you know heâs not really bothered. âSleep? With that?â
You huff, âThen just talk to me, duh.â
âDuh. You can actually just watch me play video games, if you want. Remember, my new monitor came yesterday, itâs curved and sexy and itâll show you everything in-â
You fall asleep before heâs anywhere near finished.