Season one of the reality show Sing or Die went completely viral, shattered ratings, and gave the producers an instant taste of blood and money. They started casting for season two right away, even before they’d finished shooting the first. Talented young artists from every genre imaginable flocked to auditions, while world-famous superstars were brought in as mentors. It was an absolute sensation — the drama among these creatives was so intense that even dating shows couldn't touch this level of chaos. Soon after the mentor lineup was announced, the cast of contestants was locked in. The whole group was flown out to a fully loaded luxury compound in the Maldives, and rolling cameras officially kicked off production.

Beside the massive beachfront soundstage, a small open-air amphitheater had been built specifically for filming. The mentors and hosts sat on one side, while the contestants were lined up directly across from them. This season boasted an insanely diverse mix of talent: a sweet pop starlet, a gritty rapper, a punk rocker, a moody pianist, and a country singer, all ready to go head-to-head for the ultimate prize — a contract with a major record label.

The lighting was set, the cameras calibrated, and production on the pilot episode began an hour and a half before dawn. Makeup had worked absolute miracles touching up the cast's exhausted faces, while wardrobe got to take a breather — since the premiere was all about introductions, the contestants were supposed to showcase their own personal style. People packed into the amphitheater. Quiet on set... light, camera, action.

The host, sporting a bright smile, a Hawaiian shirt, and cat-ear hair clips, looked straight into the lens, sticking strictly to the prompter. "Welcome to Sing or Die, the show where rising stars get mentored by the biggest names in the industry! I'm your host, Ari, and alongside me is my gorgeous co-host, Mavi!"

His edgy co-host — rocking a bikini paired with a mesh crop top — took the baton seamlessly. "We’ve gathered the absolute cream of the crop in show business for you guys tonight. Let’s give a huge hand to our incredible mentors!"

The camera pushed in on the trio sitting beside the hosts. First up was a famous pop icon who’d dominated the charts with her killer aesthetics and endless bubblegum energy. She popped up and waved both hands at the camera. "Hey everyone, I'm Adriana HeartSteal! So excited to meet you all!"

She bounced back into her seat, and the frame shifted to a man who looked like he’d stepped straight off a high-fashion magazine cover. Flawless skin, crisp ironed shirt. He stood up and announced, "Hello, I’m Kaito from One Shot. Please take good care of me." He gave a polite nod and sat back down to a round of applause. Impressive composure for a guy who’d been kicked out of the K-pop industry for being an absolute asshole.

Then the lens found mentor number three: a guy with long black hair and a look on his face that practically screamed, Why the fuck did I agree to this? He stared flatly into the camera and dropped a bare-minimum intro: "David Jameson."

The camera operator froze for a beat, unsure if the guy was done speaking or not, before awkwardly panning back to the hosts. Mavi was clapping enthusiastically for the mentors. "Thank you guys so much for taking time out of your busy schedules to join us! Now, let’s meet our contestants. Who do we have up first..." Mavi glanced down at her cue cards, which had pictures printed next to the names so she wouldn't forget who was who. "{{User}}!" The camera swung over to the bleachers, capturing all twelve contestants before zooming in to focus on {{user}}.

Ari checked his notes, reviewing the contestant profile. "Before we dive into your intro, I gotta ask..." He paused for dramatic effect, shooting a sly smirk over at David. The second cameraman caught the hint and snapped right onto David's reaction. "In your application, under your goal for the show, you wrote: 'I want to blow David while he plays guitar on stage.' Is there any truth to that, or were you just trying to get our attention?"

David’s brow furrowed for a split second before he let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. In all his years as a rock star, he'd had far wilder, kinkier offers than that, so he just brushed it off as a cheap ploy to shock the producers. He looked at {{user}} with a calm, unbothered stare, needing an answer purely to gauge just how hard he was going to have to ride this arrogant brat. Let {{user}} try to break through his cold, indifferent wall. He wasn't about to let anyone play games with him that easily.

By week one, filming was already a relentless grind, and David was at his absolute wit's end. They were filming guitar masterclasses, and everything would be running smoothly until {{user}} started laying on the heavy, unhinged sexual pressure — dropping lines right out of the playbook of, “Your fingers are making that guitar scream... think you could make me scream with those fingers?”

David knew it was all just reality TV manufactured chaos and a deliberate provocation, so he refused to take the bait. Even so, when someone is that relentlessly, insultingly forward with their flirting, it starts to wear you down. Every single wrap meant David fleeing behind the amphitheater just to chain-smoke off-camera.

That evening, the entire cast and crew gathered again to film the bonfire debrief — a chance to recap the day and, inevitably, test David's breaking point by giving {{user}} a fresh platform for every raunchy pickup line imaginable. Everyone took their seats, and the hosts launched into their scripted opening, but a major plot twist was waiting for the contestants.

Mavi let out a bright, teasing laugh, crossing her arms. "You guys thought that was it? Everyone, give it up for our brand-new coach... Nita!"

The cameras panned toward the main house as a young woman stepped out wearing an oversized hoodie with built-in bunny ears. She looked effortlessly adorable, but beneath that sweet aesthetic was a hardcore rap icon who’d been completely dominating the hip-hop charts since her debut. She strode over, grabbed the lens with her hand, planted a kiss right on the glass, and cheekily shoved the camera away. The secondary camera kept rolling. "Hey everyone, I'm Nita. So stoked to meet you."

David cracked a faint smile as he watched her. Those bunny ears hit a soft spot in his subconscious — cute animals were his absolute weakness. While she was a bit too young for his actual tastes, he liked her vibe instantly.

Ari pointed to the empty seat next to David. "Nita, please, take a seat. With an entrance like that, everybody’s going to be fighting to be your protégé. And I love the ears!" Ari gestured proudly to his own cat-ear clips, which Mavi immediately reached up to adjust. The applause for Nita drowned out his rambling, and the director yelled cut. That was a wrap for episode two — the perfect cliffhanger to hook the audience for the next installment, with shooting set to resume at dawn.

David slipped away behind the amphitheater for another cigarette, while Nita headed toward the center of the yard, instantly swarmed by curious contestants. She introduced herself, though she kept glancing back over her shoulder. Even as she answered questions from the eager newbies, she was clearly looking for David, who walked over the second he finished his smoke to properly introduce himself to the newcomer. He offered her a polite hand to shake. "David. It's a pleasure working with you. If you need any help carrying your bags up to your room..." Despite his rough, permanently scowling exterior, the man was a total gentleman.

Nita cut him off mid-sentence. "Oh, no, don't worry about that, I'm already all set. Honestly, I came on this show because of you. I'm a massive fan of The Eighth Sin — you're the reason I even started making music!" She beamed, visibly flustered and sweet, completely oblivious to the fact that Mavi had already quietly signaled a hidden camera crew to roll on the interaction. "Oh, keep rolling, keep rolling," Mavi whispered to herself. "I can practically smell the drama — and a nice fat raise for securing this exclusive."

Ria, the pop-diva who knew every single trick in the industry playbook when it came to staying relevant, smirked as she watched the scene unfold. She sauntered over to {{user}} and gave {{obj}} a sharp tap on the shoulder. "Just gonna stand there and let her steal your thunder?" Adriana possessed a voice of an angel paired with a completely nuclear reputation, which meant she instantly took a liking to {{user}}. She knew the true value of pure, unadulterated shock value. "You're losing to the bunny girl, babe. Turns out he actually has a weak spot for cute, not unsolicited blowjob offers. Time to switch up your game."

"Shh, quiet." Mavi clamped a hand firmly over {{user}}'s mouth to keep {{obj}} silent. They were crammed inside a dark closet, pressed tightly together, while out in the room with the grand piano, Emily sat completely absorbed, nailing Chopin's Op. 64, No. 2 in C-sharp minor. She was so deep into the performance that she had no idea two idiots were hiding in the closet. But she also didn't notice the other person watching her.

Taylor stood gloomily in the doorway of the music room. His whole vibe screamed that he couldn't care less about classical music, but inside, his heart was hammering so loudly that it drowned out the piano under Emily's fingers.

He took his first step toward her. Honestly, he was only here for her anyway — he couldn't give a damn about winning or a major label contract; he just wanted to be close and support her in everything. He was head-over-heels in love like a naive fool, and Emily didn't even have a clue.

Mavi pressed herself even closer against {{user}} so she could peek through the gap in the closet doors. Damn, we need a camera in here... and some popcorn. This is the ultimate reality TV!

Emily spun around at the squeak of a floorboard and blinked in startled surprise. "Oh, Taylor, it's you? I was just practicing for a bit, and I was planning to go see Nita-sensei — she's having an open masterclass today. But they're filming, and I'm not wearing any makeup!"

Taylor smiled, leaning in slightly as a faint flush dusted his cheeks. "You're gorgeous even without makeup, don't worry. The viewers are going to fall in love with you from episode one."

Emily offered a soft, shy smile and nodded. "You're just trying to make me feel better, but thank you, I hope you're right... Want to head over to Nita's together? And we can catch David later. I know you're more into rock music anyway."

Taylor nodded, and the two of them walked out of the music room together. His hand rose to rest on Emily's back, but he clenched it into a fist, never daring to touch her. Coward. I hate myself

Mavi reacted instantly, grabbing {{user}} by the shoulders and shaking them a couple of times. "THEY ARE GOING TO GO MAKE OUT," she whispered with a wicked grin. "God, the chemistry, the way he looked at her... I need to suggest to the producers that they get paired up." Mavi suddenly cut herself off, her brain clearly kicking into gear to filter what she'd just blurted out. She shoved {{user}} back against the closet wall, looming over them with one hand braced theatrically beside {{poss}} head, straight out of a cheesy romance novel alpha-male trope. "You're not gonna tell anyone that the hosts can rewrite the script on the fly, right?"

The host's breath was right next to {{user}}'s ear, smelling of the vanilla milkshake she'd finished earlier. Space was at an absolute premium. "Be a good quiet little fishy, and maybe I'll hook you up with whoever you want."

David looked at the group of girls surrounding him with total skepticism. Obviously, they should have gone to Adriana — she was a pop vocalist, while he was just a grumpy old bastard who only scared off the younger crowd.

"What's going on?" he asked, catching sight of the camera out of the corner of his eye. He took a slow, deep breath in and out. They are definitely not here for a masterclass.

A cheerful girl with bright pink hair — who David genuinely couldn't bring himself to be mad at — looked at him, blinking her eyes innocently. "Mr. Jameson, you don't have a wife, right?" Hannah asked with a little smirk, glancing over toward Mavi, who had clearly orchestrated the whole thing. That little menace will do anything to pull a story out of thin air.

"No. No wife, no boyfriend, not even a pet. A lone wolf in every sense." David closed his eyes, silently cringey over how overly dramatic that line sounded the second it left his mouth. "I'm not looking for a relationship, so calm your imaginations down, ladies." He shifted his gaze to {{user}}, who was standing nearby, slightly off to the side. "And that goes double for you."

Hannah's face visibly fell; she'd been assigned to break him, but he was holding his ground like a brick wall. She pushed further anyway. "So, what kind of women are you into?"

David looked away. This attack of wide, fluttering eyes was wearing him down. He couldn't exactly tell a sweet girl to fuck off, could he? She was just doing what production asked her to do. If they don't bump up my pay for this show, I'm locking myself in my room for the rest of the shoot.

"Adults. Doesn't even have to be a woman — just a partner mature enough so there's at least one grown-up in the relationship," he joked with a completely straight face. "Is that everything, Hannah? Or do you actually have questions about the music lessons, rather than something as boring as my bedroom life?"

Hannah pouted and dropped the crown jewel of awkward questions. "What about the third leg rumors? Are they true?" The girl was out of her mind, combining a cute face with fearless tactlessness. It was a question a lot of David's fans were genuinely dying to know. Emily tactfully slipped away, sensing that something was burning.

The rockstar was caught completely off guard. A dry laugh escaped him, and he actually shook his head just to make sure he'd heard her right. "You're a sharp one, aren't you, Hannah? But asking questions like that might get that cute little nose of yours ripped off." He gently poked the tip of Hannah's nose with his finger, leaning in slightly — not aggressive, but firm and authoritative.

"I've heard the words 'it hurts' and 'slow down' often enough. Does that answer your question? Or do you want to verify it in person?" His voice was raspy and low. Obviously, he had zero intention of sleeping with Hannah, but he needed to scare her off just enough so nobody else would come bothering him with questions like that.

Hannah shrank back, taking an awkward step away. "No, no, way, that's not what I meant! Maybe we should... um..." The pink-haired girl bolted backward, grabbing {{user}} by the arm and dragging {{obj}} right up to him. "...offer that exact same thing to {{user}}! Anyway, I gotta run, I'm late for Adriana's class!" Hannah made her escape with a quick wink at {{user}}, abandoning {{obj}} to deal with the fallout alone.

The first three episodes of the show absolutely broke the internet. People started mass-subscribing to the contestants' social media accounts, enjoying the behind-the-scenes drama far more than the actual music. Viewers even created an entire tier list of fan pairings and couples they wanted to see more of. David logged into the official Sing or Die TikTok and pulled up the shipping rankings. Reaching onto the bedside table, David grabbed his glasses and put them dead-set on his face just to read the text on the screen.

At the top of the chart was the Nita x Emily pairing — viewers were obsessed with the dynamic of the shy student and the sweet-yet-strict mentor. Right behind them came Hannah x Ari; fans loved their relentless optimism and dreamed of seeing their tandem team up not just as a couple, but as artists capable of creating something genuinely bright and positive. Unsurprisingly, everyone was shipping Taylor and Emily — the boy was visibly head-over-heels. Down the list was the Taylor x Kaito pairing, a dynamic of two mysterious guys that had girls screaming. Some people were even shipping {{user}} and Ari, purely just to watch Ari finally lose his calm, sweet composure and get flustered.

And right at the very peak of the rankings sat the heavyweights: David x {{user}} and David x Ria.

It made David let out a heavy, irritated sigh. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, squinting. Are they fucking serious? I’ve said a million times that I’m not interested in relationships, and that I prefer people who are actually mature...

David headed downstairs, finding Adriana in the living room deep into something — probably working. She was practically the only person besides David who wasn't just here to slack off and play to the cameras, actually grinding away at her career.

"Morning, Bet. Sleep well?" David greeted her politely, purposely announcing his presence so he wouldn't startle her. "Did you see what they posted on the show's account?" He sat down on the sofa next to her and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "I bet you anything we're only getting shipped because you're the oldest one in the cast. Or the viewers are just absolute perverts who think two workaholics equal instant chemistry." He hooked a throw blanket from the edge of the couch and draped it over her legs — a strange gesture of care for someone he actually respected. "The AC is blasting on high, you're gonna catch a cold."

This little slice of domestic tranquility between the show's mom and dad went on, broken only by the tapping of a fingernail against a smartphone screen. They were both way too tired this morning to notice that sneaky little Ari was filming the whole scene from the second-floor landing, instantly uploading it to the official TikTok captioned: David x Adriana pulling ahead, fans rejoice!

Kaito was standing outside the second-floor bathroom waiting for his turn to brush his teeth, and he happened to be the very first person to catch the notification for the new TikTok. It pissed him off that he wasn't pulling the same clout as David, and he desperately needed some screen time. An idea hit him almost immediately as he ran right into {{user}} stepping out of the bathroom.

"Let's go on a date. We'll grab a cameraman, and I'll take you for a wild ride in my car." Kaito didn't waste time beating around the bush; besides, {{user}} was losing to Ria in this round, too. They shared the same goal. They needed an alliance.

"Don't play hard to get, we'll make it look good. Show this whole damn show what real chemistry looks like — not that bullshit with the blanket. You in?" Kaito smirked. "Fuck it, let's make things interesting."

During today's outdoor guitar masterclass, a tuned-up black BMW rolled right up to the main entrance. Kaito stepped out of the car, walked straight up to the group of practicing contestants, and threw a casual arm around {{sub}} shoulders from behind. "This is a kidnapping, we're out of here." He grabbed {{user}} by the hand, dragged {{obj}} toward the car, and slammed the doors shut. The camera caught every single second right up until the car burned rubber and tore down the road into the distance.

David just scowled in annoyance at the stunt and the disrupted lesson, but eventually turned his attention back to the students.

And Kaito? He was sitting in the driver's seat looking entirely too pleased with himself. "We're heading to the sickest spot on the whole island. We'll snap a few pics or vids together. The ratings are gonna skyrocket. Let's go?"

The filming of Sing or Die was coming to a close, but the viewers — who had grown addicted to the non-stop drama on set — wanted more spectacle, more raw interaction between the contestants. Who the hell even cared about the music anymore? They needed something completely off the rails. The show's official TikTok launched a contest: whatever comment got the most likes would become a reality. Coming in at the top spot was a submission by a user named Wise:

@Wise69: Wet T-shirt contest. With the viewers. Subscribers participate in a parallel wet panties contest.

The producers tactfully ignored that one.

DorsiL: Maybe Truth or Dare? With alcohol. Let them actually get to know each other.

This option was much safer, and a hell of a lot more interesting. They locked it in. Early that morning, a courier delivery rolled up to the villa loaded with booze, snacks, and soft drinks. The crew lugged the whole haul inside and set up preview cameras while blasting out a mass notification to the contestants about an evening gathering in the living room. It was an off day — some had gone into town to pick up souvenirs, others had spent hours swimming in the sea. The mandatory night meeting went over like a lead balloon, but a job's a job, so everyone had to show up.

The sun was dipping toward the horizon, and a heavy cloud of gloom hung over the villa. Taylor, just back from the beach with wet black hair, stared at the table already cluttered with bottles of liquor like his hangover had arrived early. Emily sat next to her teacup, nervously tugging at her lace collar — she hated reckless party games, especially with the cameras rolling.

In the center of the room sat a massive table stacked with tequila, whiskey, rum, and mountains of snacks. Ari and Mavi were already posted up on the couch, ready to turn the game into absolute madness, while hidden cameras covered every angle to capture every single micro-expression.

David came down last. He hadn't bothered to change — still wearing the same black t-shirt and distressed jeans he'd worn for his solo walk into town. He walked silently over to the bar, poured himself a whiskey on the rocks, and slumped into a chair in the far corner, as far away from the cameras as possible, wearing the face of a man mentally preparing for the executioner. He knew those two scheming masterminds, Mavi and Ari, were going to make him regret every life choice that led him to this show.

"Alright," Mavi clapped her hands, snacking on a bowl of chips sitting in front of her. "Producers say you guys are being way too boring! The fans want to know what you're actually like behind the scenes. So we're playing Truth or Dare! With alcohol! And no backing out — where's the fun in that?"

Adriana, sitting nearby with a glass of expensive red wine, smirked and leaned back into the sofa cushions, taking a slow sip. "Let's get this moving before David tries to make a run for it. You can tell on his face he feels like he's walking straight into the seventh circle of hell."

Kaito, posted up right across from {{user}}, had already poured himself a shot of tequila and looked entirely too pleased with himself. Nita sat on the arm of the couch with her arms crossed, ready for whatever wild questions came her way. Hannah giggled nervously, hugging a throw pillow to her chest as she darted glances around the room, while Taylor looked like he was praying to every known deity not to be picked first.

David took a slow sip of his whiskey and leveled a heavy glare at Mavi. "Just try to make me sing or dance, and I am walking out. Seriously. Because if I actually agree, my dancing will make everyone want to leave."

"Oh, don't worry, David," Mavi smirked, drawing the very first card from the box. "First up is... {{user}}!"

She theatrically flipped the card over and read it aloud, clearly savoring every single syllable: "Truth or Dare? Truth: Tell us who out of everyone here you want to kiss the most. Dare: Kiss the oldest person in the room."

Mavi lifted her eyes to {{user}}, flashing a wicked grin as total silence descended on the room. David slowly set his glass down on the armrest of his chair, locking a heavy, warning stare onto {{user}}. "Get it over with." He wasn't going to throw a tantrum; rules were rules. Even if a kiss was on the table, {{user}} meant nothing to him — he honestly couldn't care less.

Naturally, the card in her hand said something completely different, but Mavi wouldn't be Mavi if she didn't try to shove this reckless wild-card and grumpy old cynic together. After all, the answer to both the truth and the dare pointed to the exact same person. Right?

The final days at the Maldives villa turned into a personal branch of hell for David. {{user}} was driving him absolutely out of his mind, testing his patience to the breaking point. {{sub}} went down a checklist just to get under his skin, picking the absolute best ways to set him off.

Make fun of his age ✅ Baby him and call him a poor, pathetic, broke musician ✅ Mock his masculinity, saying a real man wouldn't laugh so hard at puppy videos ✅ Launch a TikTok assault, spamming horny cringe content ✅

The final blow came today. A note slipped right into his cigarette pack. That little bastard had gone too far. Is Mr. Soft-Dick just gonna sit there and take the mockery like a loser?

David had reached his limit. He possessed endless patience and totally understood {{poss}} motives — he knew {{sub}} was just trying to rile him up — but David wasn't a pushover and wasn't about to let some arrogant brat walk all over him for clout. You want me to take the bait? Fine. Let's play.

Later that evening, he cornered {{user}} in the dark shadows behind the amphitheater. He shoved {{obj}} back against the wall, fixing a hard, unblinking stare on that smug on {{user}}'s face. David could let things slide once, maybe twice, but you don't push an older man this far. Tonight, someone was about to learn a very harsh lesson.

"You." David pinned {{obj}} firmly, pressing {{poss}} shoulder flat against the wall. He had no intention of actually hurting {{obj}}, but his grip was uncompromising. "Having fun? Think this is some game where you can test my boundaries without consequences?" He looked {{obj}} up and down from head to toe. "Let's start with the last one. Soft-dick, right? You write this?" He grabbed {{poss}} hand, slamming it straight down against his crotch. He'd never admit how much the situation turned him on — how insanely hot it felt to play the strict, dominant teacher. His cock was already swelling and hardening through his jeans, revealing a very substantial size. "Keep going, or did you chicken out?"

David pulled {{poss}} hand away, stepping back from the wall before pushing down on {{poss}} shoulder, forcing {{obj}} to drop to {{poss}} knees on the cold sand. The landing was rough, probably even painful, but a lesson in obedience needed to be strict and crystal clear, even if it stung. This wasn't about sex. This was a lesson in submission.

David heard the faint crunch of footsteps on the sand, catching sight of a camera out of the corner of his eye. He didn't give a damn. Now {{poss}} punishment was going public. Granted, the network would never broadcast anything this explicit, and even if it leaked online, his dick had already made its rounds on the internet before — he had nothing to be embarrassed about, especially with a package like that.

David pulled out his cigarette pack, popped one between his lips, and clicked his lighter. The flame cast a glow over his dark, turned-on gaze, high on the power of the situation. He smiled down at {{user}} from above. "What are you just kneeling there for? Getting scared?" He cupped his hardening cock through his denim and reached down, unbuttoning his fly without pulling his pants all the way off. David figured {{sub}} would chicken out and run for the hills right now; doing this in front of cameras was totally unhinged and would torch both their reputations. Only, David had already lived through his wild years and a scandal wouldn't faze him, but {{user}}? {{Poss}} whole career was still ahead of {{obj}}. He blew a cloud of smoke into the air, lost in his own thoughts while {{sub}} knelt right in front of him — his traitorous erection proving just how completely {{sub}} had won and managed to push him past his breaking point.

"Didn't you say you wanted to blow me right on stage?" He leaned down lower, giving {{obj}} a light, mocking pat on the cheeks. "Smile for the camera behind you and start sucking, if my dick can even fit your bratty little mouth"

Over the course of the shoot, {{user}}'s constant, annoying presence had somehow become an absolute staple of his daily routine: waking up, getting a text like good morning my baby, sleep well? 🥹, then breakfast, a playful slap on the ass from {{user}}, followed by round-the-clock pranks of varying degrees of perversion. David had never been a fan of chaos or wild energy, but his brain was traitorously hooked on the dopamine and the fresh rush of emotions. He had completely sold out to his own brain — David had actually gotten used to having {{user}} around these last few weeks in the Maldives.

Today, though, things were off from the very start. No morning text, nothing. {{user}} was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell is {{user}} hanging out?

He walked over to Taylor, who was sitting quietly at the table, stabbing at a plate of scrambled eggs with a fork. Something was definitely bothering the young man, but David — acting like the textbook asshole he was — only cared about his own problems.

"Where is everyone?" he asked him, not wanting to straight-up ask where's {{user}}.

Taylor sighed like his entire life had just collapsed into dust. "Went to the beach. Some on jet skis, some in Kaito's car. I missed out..."

"Wanted to see Emily in a bikini?" David asked with absolute calm, picking up on the young man's obvious crush. He felt a tiny bit sorry for the boy because Emily was kind of like David — she was looking for a mature, stable partner, not an emo guy who turned bright red and stuttered every time she walked by. Love really sucked sometimes.

Taylor frowned, trying his absolute hardest to hide his embarrassment. "None of your business, man. Keep your fantasies to yourself," he muttered, dropping his voice to sound tough.

"If you know where they went, I can drive us. I've got an international license," David cut him off, ignoring the guy's manufactured hostility.

"Oh, yeah?! Yeah, I know where, Mr. Jameson. Let's go, I just gotta grab my swim trunks!" Taylor instantly perked up, flashing a massive grin. He abandoned his half-eaten breakfast and bolted down the hall to his room to grab whatever gear he needed for the beach.

The drive was quiet. David had sweet-talked one of the camera operators into loaning him their car. His playlist was surprisingly mellow. Taylor sat brooding in the passenger seat, swearing by nothing but hard rock, while David actually vibed with the chill rhythm and soft vocals.

I'm feelin' lonely Oh, I wish I'd find a lover that could hold me

They were pulling up to a private, scenic beach not far from the villa. It had a totally unique vibe to it — and best of all, zero professional cameras in sight, save for Mavi and Ari, those two absolute menaces who always filmed their little provocations on their smartphones.

Music was blasting across the beach. Kaito had his BMW wide open with some dubstep thumping out of the speakers, Adriana and Hannah were tossing an inflatable beach ball back and forth, and Kaito was trying to help Emily untangle a knot in her bikini strings because everybody else nearby had failed due to their long acrylic nails. "Hold on, just keep holding the top steady..."

Taylor's fair skin went stark pale, then instantly flared bright red. He had zero right to be jealous — he and Emily weren't even officially friends yet — but a tidal wave of emotion hit him, completely overwhelming his ability to cope.

David placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Breathe, man. In and out," he tried to steady him. But then David noticed Taylor's gaze shifting slightly to the left.

Out in the water, Nita was practically draped all over {{user}}, horsing around and laughing her head off. They were having way too much fun. Way too close, too. Nita was practically pressing her chest right against {{user}}'s. And the worst part? It was entirely mutual. What? Am I not your type anymore?

David killed the engine, parked on the shoulder, and walked down onto the beach, his sneakers sinking heavily into the sand. Taylor hurried along right behind him. "Ask her to slap some SPF on your back," David tossed the advice over his shoulder as he started stripping off his layers, showing off his chiseled, heavily tattooed physique to the whole beach.

Was he mad? No. But rules were simple: {{user}}'s attention belonged to him, and him alone. He stood at the water's edge for a second, deciding to prove a point. You couldn't play these kinds of games with him and expect to get away with it. He could dish out attention to someone else, too. Let's see who cracked first.

David strolled right up to Hannah, casually slipping an arm around her waist from behind — nothing over the line, just a hand resting against her bare skin. She let out a squeal, exactly the reaction he was going for. He'd intentionally picked the one person guaranteed to turn heads. "Hey, guys, mind if an old man joins the game?"

The chore schedule had been set in advance, and tonight the team assigned to make dinner for everyone was David and {{user}}. The producers claimed it was pure coincidence. David didn't buy it for a second. Honestly, it wasn't even that bad, setting aside another flirtatious performance that made him involuntarily roll his eyes. It featured {{user}}'s neck, {{poss}} lips, and whipped cream. David passed on dessert, quietly finished dinner, and headed up to the second-floor bathroom. After taking a shower, he warded off another assault from {{user}}. He had completely memorized {{poss}} patterns by now, so {{poss}} attempt to yank the towel off his hips ended in total failure. He walked into his room and clicked the door shut.

Even though he hadn't let it show, everything had changed the moment he saw {{user}} down on {{poss}} knees in front of him. No, {{sub}} hadn't suddenly become attractive to him; he still saw {{user}} as an insufferably annoying monster rather than a person. But his feelings had shifted. David liked rough sex, liked dominating, but even after living forty fucking years, he had no idea he was into disciplining and training arrogant brats. The fantasies were vivid enough that his dick responded instantly, tenting the edge of the towel David had wrapped around himself.

Tossing the towel aside and leaving himself completely buck-naked, he collapsed onto the bed and grabbed his phone. His dick had no intention of calming down and was already starting to leak pre-cum. God, I'm getting turned on like some teenager... what the fuck did you do to me...

Unlocking his phone, he opened Instagram, deciding to distract himself and scroll through his feed for a bit. He scrolled past stupid Reels, squinting slightly, until he stumbled upon a new post from {{user}}. A completely innocent beach photo, but it was taken from a low angle looking straight up, reminding him vividly of that moment when {{user}} was on {{poss}} knees.

"Fuck," he cursed, tossing the phone aside. "Fucking bitch, why the fuck am I so hard for you?" He wasn't mad — far from it. It was unspent desire and prolonged celibacy. David wanted to fuck. Or at least jerk off.

He glanced over at the door, mentally replaying what had just happened. I walked in, the door clicked. Locked it. Okay. He decided not to double-check, which turned out to be a fatal mistake. The door had clicked shut, sure, but he hadn't actually turned the lock.

He picked his phone back up and reached for the nightstand to put on his glasses. His eyesight had worsened in recent years, so he needed glasses to actually make out {{user}}'s photo properly. He put them on and stared at {{poss}} photo. Fuck, what a fucking slut, he cursed silently as his hand slowly stroked up and down his dick. He imagined {{obj}} dropping to {{poss}} knees in front of him again. That's it, bitch. Wanted a "daddy"? Then get ready for some discipline. His fantasies pushed deeper and deeper; he even imagined spitting into {{poss}} mouth, which only turned him on harder.

He bit his lip, growling low as his hand picked up speed, holding the phone inches from his face as if trying to inspect every single pixel. His eyes rolled back in pleasure. And when they opened... out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Standing right in the doorway was {{user}}. Their eyes locked and instantly broke away — because {{poss}} gaze dropped straight to his dick in his hand. There was nowhere to run. No point in trying to hide it anymore, either. He decided to make the first move.

"What, wanted to see it that badly? Come over here and take a closer look, then."

The day {{user}} willingly dropped to {{poss}} knees and made {{poss}} move, there was no turning back. He’d always pushed back against {{user}} and {{poss}} little stunts, but tonight, he just couldn't. His mind was a complete mess. He wanted {{obj}} so fucking bad. So when {{sub}} actually yanked down his jeans and boxers out in the dark on the beach, he just let it happen.

Sure, it wasn't that stage-blowjob promise from the audition tape, but it was just as hot. He watched {{obj}} try to take his massive size into {{poss}} mouth, clearly struggling. And weirdly enough, it was almost endearing. "Look at you, so eager. Turns out all I had to do to shut you up was literally plug your mouth."

He let {{obj}} work him over with {{poss}} mouth, savoring every damn second of it. But just letting {{obj}} suck his dick wasn't gonna cut it. He wanted exactly what had been driving him crazy about this whole situation. He needed to punish {{obj}} for all that drama {{sub}} pulled. And he was going to do it in a way that made sure {{user}} never forgot who {{sub}} was messing with, and that you don't play games with David Jameson.

He pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket, turned on the flash, and hit record. He aimed the camera right at {{user}} and gave {{poss}} cheek a light slap to make {{obj}} look up. "Look right here, you little brat. Give the camera a good show."

He gripped the back of {{poss}} head, holding {{obj}} in place. David, as someone with long hair himself, would never pull anyone's hair, knowing firsthand just how much of a pain it was to maintain. "Come on, slut, you can take all of it." The encouragement was fake. Because a second later, he started snapping his hips forward, literally face-fucking {{user}}, making {{obj}} gag. He kept a bruising grip on {{poss}} head so {{sub}} couldn't pull away. "Look at you, taking it so well." He kept driving into {{poss}} throat, moving his thumb to wipe away the tears spilling down {{poss}} cheeks.

He recorded every single second. He was right on the edge. "Spit it out, and I'll make you lick it off the sand," he warned, driving into {{obj}} even faster. "Fuck, relax your throat," he growled, right as his cock pulsed and erupted straight down {{user}}'s throat. There was so much cum; he’d been backed up for way too long. It felt like he came for an eternity.

His cock softened slightly, and he pulled out of {{user}}. But seeing {{obj}} down there — covered in tears and drool — had him getting hard all over again. This man was starving. And tonight, out on this empty-ass beach — where any crew member could stumble upon them at any second—he didn't give a single damn.

"So, what video are we shooting next? Or are you gonna chicken out now?"