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The livestream lags for a moment when it starts, the chat lolling in speed before the commenters start bombarding each other as interlude music fades and a cutely animated ‘Be with you in a minute . . .’ intro card parts with swirly lines and hopping bunnies to reveal Seonghwa’s face.
He looks gorgeous as always, his hair down and straight today, his fringe meticulously styled, white with blocks of black growing in at the roots. There’s a headband perched atop the strands of some fluffy, semi-realistic rabbit ears to match paired with the bodypiece he’s dressed in: a malleable looking sateen blend that clings to his curves perfectly, ruffle-hemmed and high on his hips with ribbon tied to each side and a sweetheart-cut bust strapped to his chest along with a fuzzy tail attached to the back being purposefully presented in his current position, bent over at an angle on his elbows and knees so he’s taking up most of the screen.
The entire outfit is brought together by sheer thigh-high socks trimmed in similar lace, a thick choker wrapped around his neck, a pair of dangly earrings and a light coat of makeup to suit that gives his features a coy, almost innocent look. Softening his eyes and the smirk raspberry-painted lips are pulled into as he scans the chat with his chin propped on his palm, his gaze narrowed in amusement.
“Hi,” he purrs over the flood of tips making their way in, his voice gentle and sly like it always is, low and alluring like the thickest of honeys. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that you guys like it?”
The chatbox explodes with confirmation and praise, housing every typoed compliment, supporting sticker, and most important of all, hasty donation made with a jingle to alert he should be giving thanks no matter what indecent situation he may be caught in. He hums, pleased, and shifts to ease the strain of his arms from bracing his weight, pushing himself up and sitting on his haunches to show the front of the bodypiece. There’s a shine to his skin when he moves, a sheen of body glitter that glints in the cool lighting of his room, but all focus is reserved for the view between his legs when they’re spread, tempting and captivating.
The panties he’s wearing are equally as lacey, a delicate mesh that barely conceals the outline of his semi-soft cock, more for ornament rather than practicality. He plants a hand onto the sheets beneath him while the other reaches to pull the fabric to the side—his wrists, too, adorned in bracelets and bow-decorated cuffs made from the same material around his throat—just enough to show a glimpse of a thin glass ring with a smile as he juts his hips and continues, his tone droning, “I knew you would. It’s pretty on brand, no? You’ll have to thank our patron for today for getting it and dressing me up so pretty for you all.”
He turns when he’s asked, influxing another wave of chimes. The back, too, is lined with a corset-style weave of ribbon, tied off above fluff in a big bow. No doubt expensive and intricately made, successful in its purpose of both being attractive on the eyes and emphasizing the width of his waist, even more so when he arches just right and wiggles with a teasing glance to present the matching plug nestled inside, embellished with a blue gem that peeks through the little holes of his underwear.
He settles when he spins around, sitting with his legs folded to the side, and answers a few questions to stall before giving a cheery welcome when the patron of the night finally joins, perking up along the viewers at the long-awaited okay to proceed.
8:12 p.m. [₩211.6k] 🜲 minxsin99: I thought you would’ve saved it for Halloween :(
“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes with a genuine frown, his brows slightly pinched. “But I have something really special planned for you guys then, okay? You’ll just have to trust me on that one.”
It evolves into a feigned pout as he lowers his eyes and fiddles with the lace on his thighs, weaponizing a dark, blue-and-pink-smeared gaze as he peeks at the camera with drooping shoulders and a put-upon sigh. “Unless you don’t like it and want me to change? ‘Cause I have a normal, plain old boring sweater right here if you want—”
He pauses out of frame when the sound of more protesting donations rolls in anew, and waits one treacherous second with the taunting expanse of his hip on display before he slinks back in with a dazzling grin, huffing at the enthusiasm bubbling to a boil.
“Good boys. So thoughtful,” he coos, his nose crickling with affection as he taps a couple buttons on his laptop's keyboard. “Shall we get started?”
The screen is then enveloped in another transitional animation that lingers before it cuts to a different window, this time split with the previous view on the bottom and a closer angle at the head of the bed on top. Seonghwa’s bent over the edge of it, seemingly rummaging around in supplies before he pops back up with a fruitful noise, propping himself on his elbow to share his findings with the second camera: a small carrot-shaped vibrator and a half-empty bottle of lube. “Cute, right? I bought this one myself a while ago, sort of like a gag gift. Never had the chance to use it, though, but today’s as perfect as any, yeah?”
He snickers at the comments directed towards its unlikeliness and flops back onto the pillows bunched against a padded headboard while he defends its honour, nestling into the towel laid below him as he gets comfortable. Slowly, he inches the panties off, hooking them over his knees with a cheeky smile before he tosses them to the side and spreads his legs for the farther camera, absently tracing the tip of the carrot over his stomach while he converses to get his spectators riled up by newly revealed areas and building anticipation. It's nothing like the vast array of equipment they’ve seen him use, tacky and almost cheap in comparison to his pretty stuff as it trails further down the spaces just short of his cock and up again with every hefty tip he recieves until he finally grants mercy and treckles the touch feather-light along the length of it, sending a visible shiver throughout his limbs at the barely-there friction.
A beautiful, sensual vision of silk, now fully hard and leaking against the material hiding his navel. His hair haloed around his ears, his throat bobbing with every swallow, his lashes fluttering and his lips parted around wispy gasps of air, wet from gloss and the dart of a tongue over them. His profile stunning, sublime and almost stone-carved, sharp yet rounded in all the proper places.
The chat tells him exactly that, showering him in compliments that dust his cheeks in a flustered glow and split his mouth into a bashful smile.
“You guys are so sweet,” he says, his next sound saccharine and directed at the camera, his thighs flexing when the following pass of the toy causes his cock to jump. “I’d expect nothing less from my good boys, hm?”
His laugh at the responses he gains is an amused thing, his gaze flicking up to stare into the lens instead of the slightly delayed view of himself on the monitor below it as he blindly sets the vibrator aside before his fingers creep between his legs. “And we all know that good boys get rewards.”
The press of them pushing the plug as far as it can go pulls an honest moan from his chest, one that has his eyes sliding shut as his other hand folds into the pillows beneath him. The glass catches the light when its carefully guided out, the sight of him stretching around it scandalous, only for it to be shoved back in just for the sake of it, jabbing forth another noise that has his audience reeling for more.
( He isn’t particularly loud, per se, and it’s a fact that can be seen during his more casual streams where he plays games or goes through his makeup routine or even cooks for them at times, barefaced and dressed in pajamas while he snorts at their jokes. On patron nights, however, he tends to butter it on thick, accentuating his performance to assure they're getting their money’s worth. Tonight is no different, all of them egging him on as he arches his back and curls his toes and bites his lip while feeling himself up, smoothing his palm over his body as he bucks down into the motions and excludes his cock from any friction, the crown of it wet with arousal. )
He doesn’t stop teasing until he gets what he wants, which comes in the form of numerous tips battling for his attention, prompting a satisfied grin and flirty ‘thank you’s their way before he finally tugs the glass free and puts it aside, patting around for the lube to slick himself up anew. Raising the vibrator to his mouth, he plants kisses against the end of it just to incite them even more before leading it to replace the space left behind, his lips falling open around a gasp at the pressure as it eases inside.
“Oh,” he breathes, his face growing slack with pleasure, his voice pitching as silicone refills him with twice the size. “Feels good . . .”
He pauses to turn it on with the press of a button, and the reaction is immediate, his thighs squeezing together as another shudder racks through his figure, a shaky whimper bouncing off of the walls while he gradually takes the rest until it’s fitted all the way to the dumb little leaves sprouting from the top. His limbs tense for a moment before he all but melts into the feeling, his hips rutting into the air as he cants down onto the toy with a lewd noise, knocking the bunny ears atop his head askew.
The vibrations are paced in pulsing waves that render him desperate in no time, loud enough to be heard over his bliss while he fucks himself in gentle, precise thrusts that build in both speed and severity to draw it out as much as possible, the glide of it sleek and slippery, making for an engrossing scene on the upper display. His other hand slithers down to grasp his neglected cock, the guttural cry the hold punches out sinful, trailing into overwhelmed little gasps when he begins stroking himself in that specific, fondle-esque way he typically does. Jewellery-clad fingers more of a sturdy yet elegant caress as he fists along flushed skin and clasps over a transparent ring, halting to weakly squirt another dollop of lube to enhance the touch before starting back up again.
He squirms and whines and quivers as he takes himself apart, and the viewers devour it like they’re starving, praising him with dirty words and escalating amounts of money in a raging flurry of unseen messages, because this is the section of the live they’ve been anticipating. This is the part when he stops mewling in vain and starts directing pretty noises towards them instead, batting wet lashes their way and angling every buck of hips so they can see, moaning loudly when he’s told and pleading oh so gorgeously as he gives up on maintaining his appearance and allows his composure to thaw for thousands to see—because that’s yet another perk to being patron of the night. They get to choose when he comes, or if he even comes at all.
“Please,” he eventually begs when it’s clear he can’t take anymore, his voice no more coherent than a whine. He’s a mess, lipstain and colour around his eyes smudged, wayward strands of hair hooked over his lashes and nose and ruddy cheekbones, features pinched like he’s about to cry and a hazy gaze lined with tears as it scours the rush of nonstop donations for the one who’s staving from that last step over the edge. “Please, Min, please—”
8:44 p.m. [₩352.6k] 🜲 minxsin99: Fucking hell
8:44 p.m. [₩423.2k] 🜲 minxsin99: You can come pretty boy
Normally, he’s capable of prolonging his stamina. He has to if he decides he wants to steer clear of his supporters’ cruel thing for overstimulation every other day, and is usually way more graceful in his ways than he’s currently striking out to be, but today of all days he seems specifically wound and easy to ruin, instantly breaking at the mere sound and sight of the alert like it’s nothing. His hands faltering their pace as he burrows his face into his pillow and crumbles with a sob, simultaneously fucking into his palm with fervor and shoving the vibrator deep within as he comes all over his knuckles, the bodypiece and the rumpled towel below him.
It takes him a while to float back down, to even his breathing and ride out the aftershocks and stop idly rocking into a loose grip. The carrot’s still going, starting to drive into the dawn of too much, and he slips it out with a muffled groan, fumbling with and tossing it when the buzzing stops. He gives a gusty huff and sluggishly pushes himself up, wiping his hand with a crinkle of his nose and reaching to pull the headband off before he finally lifts his chin and leans over to observe the damage in the second monitor, scoffing a laugh when he sees the state of his disarray.
“Thank you, baby,” he chuckles, carding his fingers through his hair and swiping one along the smear of his lips, his voice still endeared despite the raspiness now underlying it. “That was fun. I take it everyone’s feeling good?”
He switches back to the main camera, smiling at the comments his rhetorical question summons. He’s in front of the laptop in all his disheveled glory when the last transition parts, and it’s like that he starts properly thanking donators and chit-chatting with viewers while he tidies up like he wasn’t just writhing for permission mere seconds ago, playfully scolding them when they start complaining about wrapping up for the night. “No, don’t go getting all sad now, boys, we talked about this. I have to fill in for someone at work tomorrow, I can’t stay up too late.”
A beat passes where he takes in their pouting before something he reads prompts a giggle. “Yes, Woo, even if you steal me away and spoil me rotten so that I never have to work ever again—which sounds pretty nice, honestly, but a boy’s gotta live.”
He does, inevitably, still end the stream no matter how much they protest for him to stay a little longer, waving and indulging a reply to every bid goodnight with a grin at all the flattering nicknames stuck onto the ends of them.
“I love you all, too,” he promises like he always does. “Dream of me tonight, okay? And I’ll listen to you tell me all about it later.”
He watches the chat steam by for a few lingering seconds more with a tender expression before he blows a kiss and the connection is cut off.
﹙🐰﹚
The website lags again before the live program closes, leaving behind the front page of his profile. He heaves a deep sigh once he’s done giving everything a onceover and lets himself fall back with a huff, shutting his eyes as he relishes in the moment, seemingly willing the energy required to clean up into existence.
However, the current broadcast he’s being observed on isn’t stemming from a still-running stream, but from the many well hidden cameras scattered around his room, nestled into every other unassuming blind spot there is. They’re linked to a separate monitor than the one his live was just being displayed on, multiple angles lined side by side of him laying there with even more perspectives of his apartment hanging above it on different displays. The main feed coming from a camera at the high corner to his right, positioned in a spot where the drapes of his canopy can’t obscure it, providing a wide exhibit the public hasn’t seen besides his desk and bed.
His onlooker only has eyes for him, though, as they regard him through a lidded gaze and fogged glasses, their blood still warm from orgasm. Their cock’s growing soft in their grasp, their knuckles tacky with release, the rise and fall of their chest slowing to match his as their nerves fizzle with dispersing heat—but their moment of peace is cut short by them jolting into action with a hissed curse when their eyes trail away from the screen, because, fuck, there’s come all over Yunho’s desk, the extent of it far enough across the mat it’s somehow managed to land just short of his keyboard.
He digs around in the drawer beside him for some wet wipes while a content hum echoes within his headset, trying his best not to get distracted as he hurriedly scrubs his stuff clean before it gets the chance to dry. Seonghwa stretches with a rumble in the background, extending his arms above his head and bowing his spine in a curve, a sultry moan falling from his lips like he’s still performing when his limbs quiver, his muscles going taunt before they relax into a soft, fluffy duvet again.
( Yunho’s speaking from experience. All of Seonghwa’s beddings are quaint, coquettish things he's buried his face in and rutted against on many occasions until he spilt within his jeans with drugging scents filling his senses in cloying waves before he thumbed the wet patches left behind in hopes the lingering hints of his presence wouldn't be noticed.
Except they always are, and the sheets are always coincidentally fresh every time he sneaks in again for him to soil anew. )
Seonghwa lazes around, rolling this way and that as he preens like a cat in the nonexistent sun. Yunho takes the time to stuff himself back into his pants and neaten his desk, but stops when he glances up and sees that the former’s now holding his forgotten panties, his hands extended towards the ceiling as they're examined with pursed lips like he’s deep in thought.
Yunho’s brows furrow at the action, intrigued as he moves a sticky palm to his mouse to zoom in before he freezes dead in his tracks with a pang of arousal reverbing through his already spent dick, because instead of placing them onto the towel where other used appliances lay, Seonghwa brings the lace down to the come splattered across his suit, arching into the drag of it with a long, erotic moan. It gets worse when he reaches his shiny, still-ring-cinched cock, the sounds wanton and shameless and pitching in volume like Yunho’s watching fucking porn. Yunho, who has to remind himself he’s wearing headphones where no one but him can hear the godlike noises rattling around his skull as he snaps his jaw shut so hard it clicks to avoid drooling all over himself like a dog.
Seonghwa jumps up after he’s cleaned himself—not really clean at all seeing as he’s just made himself even dirtier—with a hum like nothing’s happened, swinging his feet over the mattress onto the rug below it and gathering the towel into his arms before he stands to make his way to the bathroom, only to stop in the doorway, a bit menacing as he wavers there, unmoving.
Yunho squints at a mole-scattered, ribbon-laced back, his cursor already moving to follow into the corridor, but can’t help but feel an eerie sense of dread starting to creep into his bones, because when Seonghwa spins back around, it’s deliberate, his eyes scanning the threshold of his room, just barely missing a few cameras staring back at him. He pauses at an angle, his focus on a nonspecific spot on the wall, before that knowing gaze flicks up and meets the lens surveying him head on, those dark pools of brown seemingly boring straight past the glass into the ones gawking at him behind a monitor miles away.
A tense, heavy moment of silence occurs where Yunho can taste the beat of his heart in his fucking throat, his blood running cold like he’s just been dunked in a deadly, pulse-stopping drum of ice.
Seonghwa just smiles, innocent and sweet and scarily genuine, and says as he raises the soiled panties hooked on his finger into view, “I’m gonna leave these in the hamper for you, okay?”
Yunho blinks, completely and utterly lost. He blinks, then blinks again, and then again as he finally turns his head to watch him saunter to the bathroom with a taunting sway to his hips, disappearing behind the door with crooning fingers peeking around the frame like he’s beckoning him inside.
. . . Oh, he thinks as he gapes, his brain dripping from his ears. A total lack of words. Oh, no.
Oh, he is so unbelievably fucked.