Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: Bangchan x afab!reader
Genre: smut smut smut no minors pls! (Includes phone sex, voyeurism vibes, masturbation, cam streaming, sex toy use)🔞
Summary: There’s one site you keep going back to. No matter how hard you try to stay away, you find yourself back on your bed, laptop glowing, hands between your legs.
Wc: 8k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: I feel like my fics r long but i feel like i am unable to write a short one lmao. Maybe i should write rlly short ones to get used to not yapping.. idk tho 🤔 (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The keyboard clicked under Bangchan’s fingers. His setup was simple but effective, a decent microphone, soft ring lighting, and a webcam. He leaned back slightly in his chair, stretching his arms overhead with a lazy grin.
"Alright, alright. I see you, user... uh—" He squinted at the screen, then snorted. "'BigDaddyBitch69'? Really?“
The chat exploded with laughter emojis and rapid fire messages. Chan scrolled through them, fingers occasionally pausing to tap out quick responses between bites of cold pizza. His apartment smelled vaguely of reheated leftovers and that lemon-scented cleaner he'd use constantly.
The username ‘BigDaddyBitch69’ had been a joke, a stupid, sleep-deprived decision made at 3 AM after your friends shoved their phones in your face, giggling about this "ridiculous cam site." You searched it later alone, purely to mock it, to screenshot the absurd usernames and over the top thumbnails to send back to the group chat. But then the algorithm served you him, Bangchan, smirking at the camera with a half-empty energy drink, and the sharp cut of his jawline under shitty LED strips.
The pizza crust cracked audibly between Chan's teeth as he tugged absently at the hem of his shirt, still chewing. "Y'know what," he announced to the camera, swallowing hard, "This shirt is a bit restricting.." He peeled the fabric up over his head, revealing a torso that was unfairly toned for someone who'd just inhaled three slices of pizza. The shirt landed somewhere off-camera with a soft thwap.
Chat lost its collective mind. Emojis and donation alerts flooded the screen, he had to squint against the sudden barrage of rainbow colored notifications. Chan smirked, licking a smear of grease from his thumb. "Relax, relax," he drawled, leaning forward just enough to make the shadows dance along his collarbones. "It's not like you guys haven't seen me shirtless before. Unless—" He feigned shock, clutching his chest. "Wait. Are there newbies here? Should I be scandalized?"
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, too aware of how rough the keys felt under your fingertips, before finally tapping out a donation message. The screen flashed pink as Bangchan's eyebrows shot up at the amount, his lips parting slightly before curling into that infuriatingly perfect smirk. "Oh? Someone's feeling generous tonight," he purred, dragging a fingertip lazily along the waistband of his sweatpants. The fabric dipped dangerously low, revealing the faint shadow of his hipbones.
You shifted against the pillows, thighs pressing together as warmth pooled low in your stomach. It was ridiculous, really, how the simple flex of his forearm when he reached for his water bottle could make your breath hitch.
The cursor blinked mockingly in the donation message box as Chan’s voice dripped through your headphones like honey. "What do you want from me, my darling?"
The chat was a frenzy of suggestions, some filthy, some absurd, but your fingers twitched, hesitating. Because the truth was, you knew what you wanted. You’d imagined it a hundred times, his hands, his mouth, the way his sweatpants would feel under your palms if you could just—
The screen flashed pink again. Your donation. Your demand.
Chan’s smirk deepened as he read your donation message aloud, his voice dropping into that low, teasing register that always made your pulse stutter. "’Please give us a view of everything…’” He repeated the words slowly, as if savoring them, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair.
"Everything, huh?" He arched a brow, tilting his head just enough to let the light catch the curve of his throat. "That’s a tall order, doll. You sure you can handle it?"
You didn’t breathe. The screen blurred for a second, your fingers gripping the edge of your laptop as Chan pushed back from the desk with deliberate slowness. The chair creaked, and then he was standing, one hand hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants while the other braced against the back of the chair. The fabric dipped lower, revealing the sharp V of his hips, the faint trail of dark hair leading downward and teasing, always teasing. "You’re the highest bidder," he murmured, "Guess I owe you a proper show."
You couldn’t help yourself, donating again, message hornier than the last. “I would love to fuck you 7 days a week.”
The words glowed on the screen for half a second before Chan's laughter, warm and startled filled your headphones. "Seven days a week?" He dragged a hand through his hair, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Bold. You'd get sick of me by Wednesday."
"Though.." he added, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, "I wouldn't get sick of you."
Your next donation notification chimed before he could finish the thought. Chan's eyes flicked to the amount, then back up, his smirk turning predatory. "Oh? Now you're just showing off." He stood in one fluid motion, the sweatpants hanging precariously low as he stepped closer to the camera. The lens caught the sweat gleaming at the hollow of his throat, the way his breath hitched, just slightly when he glanced at your username again. "Tell you what," he murmured, fingers toying with the drawstring of his pants. "Since you're feeling invested—"
Chan’s fingers lingered on the drawstring, tugging it loose with agonizing slowness. The fabric slackened further, dipping low enough to reveal the faintest shadow of skin beneath. The chat was a wildfire now, emojis and demands scrolling too fast to read, but Chan’s gaze never wavered from the camera from you.
"Why don't we make this interesting?" He tilted his head,
"Double the donation, and I'll—" His grin sharpened. "—lose the pants."
Your fingers moved before your brain caught up, the donation notification flashing red this time, twice the amount he'd asked for. The chat erupted into chaos, but Chan's laugh cut through, rich and delighted. "Fuck, you're eager." He hooked both thumbs into the waistband, the fabric clinging stubbornly for a heartbeat before finally sliding down his hips. The tease of it was unbearable, the way he paused just to watch the chat lose its collective mind, the way his abs flexed as he arched his back slightly, dragging the sweatpants down inch by torturous inch.
The sweatpants hit the floor with a soft whisper and Chan bit his lip. His grin was all teeth, all victory, as he kicked the discarded pants aside with one bare foot. "Happy?" he purred, spreading his arms slightly, letting the stream drink in the sight of him. The waistband of his boxers clung low, the fabric straining just enough to outline the shape of him, and you could see the faint tremor in his thighs as he shifted his weight, like even he wasn't entirely immune to the tension crackling through the screen.
The chat was a blur of emojis and screaming capitals, but Chan's eyes flickered to your username again, his smirk softening into something dangerously close to genuine warmth. "Someone's quiet," he murmured, tapping the side of his headset as if he could hear the way your breath had gone shallow. "Cat got your tongue, or are you too busy appreciating the view?" He rolled his hips just slightly, the motion lazy and calculated, and you could see the way his boxers strained tighter, could see the damp spot already forming at the front.
The donation notification flashed gold this time, triple the usual amount and Chan's breath audibly hitched. His fingers, which had been idly tracing the waistband of his boxers, froze mid-motion. The chat went eerily silent for half a second before exploding into a frenzy, but Chan barely glanced at it. His gaze locked onto the screen like he could see through the pixels straight to you, his lips parting around a slow exhale. "I need you," your message read, simple and raw, and something in his posture shifted the playful arrogance melting into something hotter, heavier.
Your fingers twitched against the keyboard, then slid away, down, lower, almost without your permission as Chan’s breath hitched audibly through the headphones. The sound was rough, ragged, like he’d been running, and your palm pressed flat against your stomach before dipping beneath the waistband of your own shorts. Fuck. The fabric was already damp, your skin overheated, and you bit your lip hard as Chan’s voice curled through the speakers: "That’s what you want?" His fingers traced the outline of himself through the thin fabric of his boxers, slow and deliberate, and your own fingers mirrored the motion without thought, your body moving on autopilot, chasing the same rhythm.
The chat was a blur of motion, but Chan wasn’t looking at it anymore. His gaze was fixed on the camera, his pupils blown wide, dark enough to drown in.
The chair creaked under Chan’s weight as he lowered himself back into it, his fingers hovered at the waistband of his boxers for a heartbeat, before he hooked his thumbs into the fabric and tugged. The elastic snapped against his hips, then gave way, and the boxers slid down just enough to free his cock, already hard and flushed against his stomach. Chan exhaled sharply through his nose, his smirk faltering for half a second before settling into something darker, more intimate. "There," he murmured, dragging a hand lazily along his length, his fingers gliding over the slickness already beading at the tip. "Happy now?"
The chat was a mess of emojis and down bad people, but Chan’s gaze flicked to your username, his lips curving into a smirk that was equal parts challenge and invitation. His fingers tightened around himself, stroking once, twice, the motion slow enough to make your own breath stutter.
The screen flashed pink again then again, then red, gold, a rapid-fire of notifications as the chat erupted into a bidding war. Chan's smirk wavered for a fraction of a second, his fingers pausing mid-stroke as the numbers ticked higher, the amounts scrolling too fast to read. Someone had just tripled your donation. Then quadrupled. Then—
"Fuck," Chan breathed, his laugh strained at the edges as he dragged his free hand through his hair, disheveling it further. "You guys are determined tonight." His hips arched slightly off the chair, his cock twitching against his palm as another gold notification popped up, five times your last donation, his breath hitched audibly. The chat was a blur of usernames and money signs, but Chan’s gaze flicked back to the camera, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted around a shaky exhale. "Someone’s feeling competitive," he purred, though his voice cracked halfway through, betraying the effect it was having on him.
Your fingers fumbled for your phone while your other hand stayed buried beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, knuckles brushing damp fabric. The screen lit up with a fresh notification as you tapped in the amount, your thumb hovering over the send button for half a second before committing. The payment went through with a soft chime, and Chan’s head snapped up like he’d been electrocuted, his fingers tightening reflexively around himself. "Don’t stop what you’re doing," your message read, his laugh came out breathless, ragged at the edges.
"Bossy," Chan murmured, but his hand moved again, slow and deliberate, his thumb swiping over the head of his cock in. The camera caught the way his abs flexed, the sweat-slick dip of his collarbones, and you imagined the heat of his skin under your palms, the way his pulse would hammer against your lips if you dragged your tongue along his throat right now.
“You like watching me like this?" he asked, his voice dropping into a deep rasp.
Chan’s throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze flicking between the chat and the camera with lazy amusement. His fingers never stopped moving, but his smirk softened into something almost tender as he read the latest flood of donations aloud. “BigDaddyBitch69—still holding strong, huh?” He chuckled, shaking his head before his eyes locked onto your username, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
The chat exploded with heart emojis and exaggerated horny messages, but Chan ignored them, his focus narrowing in on you like you were the only one in the room. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his skin glistening under the soft glow of the ring light. “Seriously, though,” he murmured, his voice dropping into that private, husky register that made your stomach flip. “Thank you. All of you.” His fingers slowed, his touch slowing as he stroked himself.
The donation notification chimed softly, the words, “Thank you Chan.." flashing pink across the screen. Chan’s fingers stilled mid-stroke, his smirk faltering for a heartbeat before softening into something dangerously genuine. He exhaled through his nose, his chest rising slowly as he leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. "You’re thanking me?" he murmured. His thumb brushed absently over the head of his cock, smearing precum in a slow circle. "Darling, you’re the one who just funded my next holiday."
The chat erupted into a chorus of “AWWWW" and heart emojis, but Chan barely glanced at them. His gaze stayed fixed on your profile, his free hand lifting to tap the side of his headset like he could pull you closer through the screen. "Seriously," he added, quieter now.
“You don’t have to—" He broke off with a shaky laugh as another donation notification popped up "For the holidays then.” His hips jerked involuntarily, his cock twitching against his palm. "Fuck," he breathed, his smirk returning, sharper now. "You’re gonna ruin me."
Chan's breathing hitched as his strokes quickened, the rhythm turning erratic, sharp snaps of his wrist that made his abs tense. The ring light caught every twitch of muscle. You could see the moment his control slipped, his fingers tightening just shy of rough, his hips lifting off the chair with each upward drag. The chat was a blur of motion, but you barely registered it, your own fingers mirroring his pace beneath your waistband, sticky and desperate.
"Fuck—" Chan's voice cracked, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk like an anchor. His bicep flexed as he braced himself, his gaze locked onto the camera like he could feel the weight of your attention like a physical touch. “You’re watching me," he rasped, not a question but a statement.
Chan's moans punched through the headphones low, ragged, barely held together and your fingers twitched in response, pressing harder against yourself as if you could chase the sound deeper. He arched off the chair, his throat working around another broken noise, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "Fuck, fuck—" His voice shattered into a gasp, his hips stuttering forward into his fist, the motion desperate now. The camera caught the way his eyelashes fluttered, the sweat-damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead as he tipped his head back. You imagined biting there, marking him, and your own breath caught sharply, your thighs pressing together involuntarily.
"You sound so good," you typed, the words blurring slightly as your fingers trembled over the keys. Chan's eyes snapped open at the notification, his gaze locking onto the screen like he could see straight through the pixels to where you were sprawled across your bed.
"Thank you.." Chan moans out, voice cracking around the edges as his fingers tightened around himself. The camera caught the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. "Can I cum yet, BigDaddyBitch69?"
You couldn’t help but giggle at your ridiculous username flashing across the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard with a hastily typed “Yes i want to see you.”
Chan’s laugh punched through the headphones, low, breathless, already way too wrecked as he read your message aloud. "Yes I want to see you," he echoed, his voice curling around the words like he was tasting them. His fingers twisted lazily around his cock, thumb swiping over the head just to watch the way his hips jerked involuntarily. "Fuck, you’re so demanding tonight," he murmured, but there was no bite to it.
His hips jerked forward, the motion uncontrolled, desperate, and the camera caught every twitch of muscle as his control unraveled. "Urghh—" His voice cracked, breaking into a groan as his thumb swiped roughly over the head of his cock, spreading the slickness there. "You like that?" he gasped, his gaze locked onto the camera like he could see the way your own fingers were moving beneath your waistband. "You like watching me fall apart?"
"God—fuck—" His voice shattered as the groans echoed off his walls.
The first spurt caught Chan by surprise a hot, messy stripe across his stomach that made his breath punch out in a ragged groan. His fingers tightened reflexively, milking himself through it as another thick pulse followed, splattering over his knuckles and dripping down onto his thighs. The camera caught every twitch of his abs, every shuddering gasp as he rode it out, his hips jerking weakly into his own grip. The way he came was so dirty, squirting everywhere almost too perfectly.
"Mhmm—" His voice cracked, the word dissolving into a moan as his head tipped back against the chair, throat working uselessly around the aftershocks. Cum glistened on his skin, his fingers trembled where they still loosely circled his cock, squeezing out the last few drops.
Chan groaned, his fingers slipping off the keyboard as another shudder ran through him. "Shit—got it on the keyboard," he muttered, breathless, reaching blindly for the towel draped over the back of his chair. The fabric landed with a damp thwump over his stomach, and he exhaled sharply through his nose as he wiped himself clean, the motions lazy but efficient. The camera caught the way his abs twitched under the rough drag of the towel, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin.
He scrubbed half heartedly at the keyboard sticky with more than just energy drink spills now, before tossing the towel somewhere off-screen with a tired chuckle. "Fuckin' mess," he murmured.
You'd been clenching your thighs together, fingers circling just there with torturous slowness, trying to drag it out, trying to match the rhythm of Chan’s lazy strokes on-screen. But then his breath hitched, ragged and broken, and his name tumbled from your lips like a plea, your hips jerked involuntarily, your fingers pressing too hard, too fast.
The orgasm ripped through you suddenly, your back arching off the mattress as your thighs trembled. You hadn’t meant to, hadn’t wanted to yet, but the sound of Chan moaning for you, the way his voice cracked around the edges, undid you completely. The laptop screen blurred as your vision whited out, your free hand clutching at the sheets like an anchor while warmth flooded your stomach, your fingers, the sticky mess between your thighs.
You breathe out, slow and shaky, fingers still curled into the damp fabric of your sweatpants as the aftershocks hum through your veins. The laptop screen flickers, Chan wiping his stomach with the towel, his smirk lazy but satisfied, but your focus wavers, heartbeat thudding in your ears louder than his post-orgasm chuckle.
Chan leaned back in his chair with a groan, the leather creaking under his weight as he stretched his arms overhead. The muscles in his abdomen flexed under the soft glow of the ring light, still glistening faintly from the towel he'd used moments earlier. There was a glint in his eyes, something mischievous, as he tapped the keyboard to bring up the stream schedule overlay. "Alright, degenerates," he announced, voice still rough around the edges, "Tomorrow’s Genshin stream. Got some... new toys." His grin widened, sharp enough to cut glass. "You guys should tune in."
The chat exploded into a frenzy of questions, but Chan just winked, dragging a hand through his hair.
The thought of Chan teasing his audience tomorrow, those knowing smirks, the way his fingers would linger just a little too long on the controller, made your thighs press together involuntarily. Your sweatpants were still damp, the fabric clinging uncomfortably, but the heat pooled low in your stomach. You imagined him leaning into the camera, that half-smile playing at his lips as he pretended to focus on the game, all while his free hand dipped below the desk just far enough to make the chat lose its collective mind.
"Thank you for tonight guys.. i’ll see you whores tomorrow.." Chan grinned, winking into the camera as his fingers hovered over the stream's end button. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. "Don’t miss me too much.”
The chat spammed crying emojis and demands for "five more minutes," but Chan just laughed, warm and breathless, as he reached for his water bottle. His gaze flicked to your username one last time before the screen went black.
You sighed, pressing your forehead against the cool edge of your headboard. The glow of Chan’s offline stream banner cast a faint blue haze over your tangled sheets. Embarrassment prickled at the back of your neck, not just for the username, not just for the donations, but for the way your fingers still twitched against your thigh like they hadn’t gotten the memo that the show was over. Again. For the third night this week.
Downstairs, your roommate’s muffled laughter seeped through the floorboards. Normal people had post-dinner conversations. You had post-cum shame with a side of PayPal receipts.
Your phone buzzed against the mattress, the screen lighting up with a notification that wasn’t from PayPal this time. You blinked at it, still half-dazed, Unknown Number and swiped it open before your brain could catch up.
Unknown: Enjoy the show?
Your thumb hovered over the notification for seconds before your brain caught up. Chan? The thought flickered and died, obviously a scam.
Some bot probably scraping donation receipts. You snorted, tossing the phone onto the rumpled comforter. As if Bangchan would actually—
Your phone buzzed again, sharp, insistent and this time, the screen lit up with a photo attachment. The thumbnail was too small to make out details, but the shape was unmistakably human.
Fingers shaking, you tapped the image.
The photo loaded in agonizing increments, first the blurred curve of a shoulder, then the sharp shape of a collarbone still glistening with sweat. Your breath caught when you took in the picture fully, Chan’s torso, lit by the familiar blue glow of his ring light, a fresh bruise blooming just above his hipbone where his thumb had dug in too hard. The caption beneath it read, 'Forgot to show you this.'
Your phone clattered onto the mattress as you scrambled upright, heart hammering against your ribs. This wasn’t possible. Streamers didn’t text donors. Especially not with that photo, still damp at the edges like he’d snapped it right after wiping himself down. You stared at the screen until the pixels burned into your vision, half expecting the message to vanish like some sleep-deprived hallucination.
Your fingers trembled as you typed,
Y/N: Who is this?
and sent it before you could second guess yourself. The reply came instantly, as if he'd been waiting with his thumbs hovering over the screen.
Unknown: Guess.
You snorted, thumb jabbing at the screen with exaggerated disbelief.
Y/N: This isn’t real. 🙄
The mattress creaked as you shifted, knees pressing together under the tangled sheets. "Nice try, scammer," you muttered to the empty room, tossing your phone onto the pillow like it had personally offended you.
Your phone buzzed again before it even hit the pillow, two rapid-fire vibrations that mumbled against the fabric. You snatched it up.
First, the familiar white fabric of Chan’s tank top clenched between his teeth. Chan’s head tilted back, his shirt pulled up just enough to expose the flexed abs, still gleaming faintly from the stream. The message beneath was a single, devastating word.
Unknown: Proof.
Y/N: Proof my ass.
you muttered out loud again, thumb jamming into the screen with enough force to crack the glass protector. The words felt clumsy, too loud in the silence of your bedroom but you sent them anyway.
Y/N: Literally anyone could’ve screenshot the stream and cropped it.
The notification popped up with a soft ping. A video attachment this time, the thumbnail a blur of motion that made your pulse stutter. You hesitated before tapping it.
The video loaded, Chan leaned back in his chair, his tank top riding up just enough to tease again. He grinned at the camera, cocky and triumphant, his fingers tapping idly against his bare thigh. "My god, princess," he murmured, voice rough with post-orgasm smugness. "You are impossible to convince."
His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, the motion deliberately slow. "Hello, BigDaddyBitch69," he added.
You buried your head instantly into your pillow, the fabric muffling your scream as Chan’s voice, real, alive, impossibly his, through your phone speakers.
The phone vibrated violently in your hand, not a text, not a photo, but an actual call, Unknown number flashing across the screen. Your thumb hovered over the accept button, your pulse hammering loud enough to drown out the ringing. ‘Answer it.’ your brain screamed. ‘Throw it out the window’, your dignity countered.
You answered on the fifth ring, too late to be cool, too soon to pretend you hadn’t been staring at the screen like a deer in headlights. The video loaded slowly, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, finally the full picture, him sprawled in his gaming chair, shirtless, the neon lights casting long shadows across his collarbones. "Took you long enough," he drawled, his grin sharp enough to cut glass.
"Hi- Chan..." you breathed, the words barely louder than the rustle of sheets as you adjusted your grip on the phone. The screen showed him leaning closer, close enough that you could see the faint pink flush still lingering at the tips of his ears, the way his throat worked when he swallowed.
"Hi yourself," he murmured, voice rougher than it had been on stream, like he'd been shouting. Maybe he had. The thought made your thighs press together under the tangled comforter. "Enjoy the show?"
Your fingers twitched against the phone screen, hesitating before you exhaled sharply and turned on the camera. The screen blinked, adjusting focus, and suddenly there you were, flushed cheeks and tangled hair framing your face like a halo. You nod replying to him.
Chan’s breath hitched audibly through the speakers. “There you are,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something warmer, rougher. His thumb swiped absently across his lower lip, like he was savoring the sight. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”
"Shut up," you laughed nervously, the sound catching in your throat as Chan's gaze burned through the screen. Your fingers twitched against the phone, the warmth of your palm making the glass slick. "Thank you," you added, softer now, the words barely audible over the hum of your laptop fan.
Chan’s grin widened. "Thank you," he echoed, his voice dipping into that rasp.
"BigDaddyBitch69." The username rolled off his tongue like a private joke.
You rolled your eyes, smirking as Chan’s voice curled through the phone speakers, that fucking stupid username again, dripping off his tongue like honey. "Seriously?" you muttered, "You’re really gonna keep calling me that?"
Chan’s grin widened, his teeth catching the low light of his ring light. "What, you don’t like it?" He leaned closer, the camera tilting as his fingers adjusted the angle, catching the sweat-damp hollow of his throat. "I think it’s cute."
“What’s your name doll?”
"Y/n," you replied, smiling as Chan's brow arched in amusement.
"That suits you better," he murmured, shifting in his chair. The leather creaked under his weight as he reached for something off-screen. "So," he continued, setting the phone down.
"Y/n who watches my horny streams and donates enough to feed me for a month. You got a last name to go with that?"
"Now why would I tell you that?" you smiled, fingers teasing the frayed edge of your waistband where it clung to skin. His gaze flickered down, just for a heartbeat, to where your pj shorts clung to you for dear life.
Chan's exhale crackled through the speakers, his gaze dropping to follow the motion like a predator tracking prey. "You’re not curious why i called?”
Your phone screen blurred momentarily, your vision still catching up with the fact that Bang Chan was calling you, that his shit smirk was currently taking up 80% of your screen. "I—" Your voice caught, the syllable cracking under the weight of too many competing thoughts.
How did he get this number? Why is he so sexy? Did I actually pass out during the stream and hallucinate this entire conversation?
Chan's smile deepened as your silence stretched, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "What, cat got your tongue?" He leaned back slightly, the camera catching the way his fingers drummed against his bare thigh, lazy and rhythmic. "Relax, princess. I didn't hack you."
“Just... asked my manager to do a little digging after your 30th donation this week."
Your pulse spiked so violently you could feel it in your fingertips. "What?" The word came out sharper than intended, your grip tightening around the phone. "You—you stalked me?"
Chan’s laughter crackled through the speakers, warm, unguarded, the kind of sound that made your ribs ache with how real it was.
"Relax," he murmured, his fingers tapping idly against the desk.
"Sent it all back. Every cent." His thumb swiped across his phone screen, the motion lazy. "Check your PayPal."
Your phone buzzed against your palm, a notification.
BangChan has refunded your payment of $5000.
The breath punched out of your lungs. "You—" The words tangled in your throat. "Why?"
"Well..." He dragged the word out, his smirk turning dangerously soft at the edges. "I was curious about you. After I saw how much you were sending me—" His thumb swiped absently over his lower lip. "It intrigued me even more."
The admission curled warm in your chest, your fingers tightening reflexively around the phone.
"Most people donate fifty bucks and expect me to propose," he continued, his grin sharpening. "You threw a grand at me just to watch me squirm."
Chan’s laughed warmly.
"What can I say?" His grin widened. "I like my girls rich." The words hung between you for a heartbeat before his smirk softened, his thumb wiping absently over his lower lip. "I’m kidding—I truly don’t need your money though."
You can't help but smile as he watches you through the phone, really stares at you, the way his gaze lingers on the curve of your bottom lip where you've been worrying it between your teeth. Chan's expression shifts subtly, his smirk softening into something dangerously close to tenderness as he exhales through his nose.
Chan's fingers stilled against the desk, his smirk stopping for a second, just long enough for you to notice the way his throat worked before he spoke. "I came to ask you something else too, y/n." The words came out softer than expected, his usual rasp sanded down at the edges. The ring light caught the nervous tap of his index finger against his phone screen, the motion too quick to be casual.
You arched a brow, thumb hovering over the mute button like a coward's escape route. "Ask away, streamer boy."
Chan’s gaze darkened, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something heavier, something that made the air in your bedroom feel suddenly too thick. His voice dropping into a whisper that crackled through the phone speakers like static. “Do you want a private show, y/n?”
The question hung between you. Your pulse thudded against your ribs, loud enough that you wondered if the microphone could pick it up. You watched, transfixed as Chan leaned forward, the camera tilting to catch the flex of his bicep when he braced one hand against the desk. His other hand dipped below the frame, the motion deliberately slow.
Your breath caught, sharp and sudden as your head bobbed in a nod before your brain could catch up with the embarrassment coiled in your gut.
Chan's exhaled low and satisfied, his fingers already moving below the frame with practiced ease. The desk creaked again, louder this time, and you imagined the way his thighs would tense under the strain, the way his knuckles would whiten around the base of his—
"Good girl," he murmured, the words rough with approval, and your thighs pressed together involuntarily at the praise. The phone screen blurred slightly as your grip tightened. Chan's smirk deepened, his free hand adjusting the camera angle with deliberate slowness until the lens caught all your favourite parts of him.
"These past weeks I've imagined what you've been doing behind the other side of the screen..." Chan's voice dipped into a husky whisper, the confession curling through the speakers like smoke.
The camera caught the way his fingers paused mid-stroke, just long enough to make your breath hitch before resuming with agonizing slowness. "How your fingers look when you touch yourself." His thumb swiped over the head of his cock, the motion deliberately messy, spreading slickness that glistened under the ring light. "If you bite your lip like you're doing right now."
Your teeth immediately released your lower lip, warmth flooding your cheeks. He knew, knew exactly how his words coiled around your ribs and squeezed, how your thighs pressed together.
"First," he rasped, "I thought about you during last Tuesday’s stream." The confession punched out of him between ragged breaths, his hips stuttering forward into his fist. "When I was playing Valorant and pretending to focus on headshots." His laugh was more air than sound, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk hard. "Kept imagining you riding me while I fumbled the controller."
The camera wobbled slightly as you adjusted your phone against the laptop screen, the angle catching the way your fingers trembled against your waistband. On screen, Chan’s grin turned wolfish as he mirrored your movements.
"There we go," he murmured. His free hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips wrapping around his cock with deliberate slowness. The camera caught every inch of him thick and flushed, his grip tight enough to make the veins stand out under the strain.
Your breath quickened as you finally tugged your shorts down. The cool air against your damp skin made you shiver, but Chan’s gaze, heavy and unblinking through the screen burned hotter than any touch. "Fuck," he breathed, his thumb swiping over the head of his cock in slow circles. “Look at you."
"You're even prettier than your profile picture, doll."
The words hit you like a physical touch. Chan's voice had dipped into something raw and unhurried, his accent thickening around the edges as his thumb stroked lazily along his cock, smearing precum down the shaft.
Your fingers dipped under the damp fabric of your underwear, the tips catching on the sticky mess you’d made earlier. His grip tightened around his cock.
The words tumbled out between panting breaths—"Chan... what if I didn’t look like my profile picture?" you laughed dryly as you watched his fingers freeze mid-stroke, his brow furrowing for a fraction of a second before his smirk returned, sharper now.
Chan’s smirk deepened. "Trust me," he rasped, his voice rough with amusement and something darker, "I got my manager to check about you after I spent weeks wanking over your picture."
Your fingers froze against your opening, the sudden stillness betraying your shock. "You—" The word caught in your throat, your pulse thudding wildly in between your legs.
The heat of Chan’s gaze through the screen was almost tangible, like a physical weight pressing against your skin. You could feel it tracing the curve of your bottom lip where your teeth had worried it raw, following the trembling path of your fingers as they dipped beneath your waistband again. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the warm brown of his irises.
"You like that?" you murmured, curling your fingers just enough to make your back arch off the mattress. The movement dragged your shirt higher, exposing the flushed skin of your stomach, nipples hard and peaking through the shirt. Chan’s grip on his cock visibly tightened as he sped up.
The screen blurred momentarily as Chan shifted his phone, the camera tilting to catch the sly curve of his smirk. "Hold on," he murmured, his voice rougher than before like he'd been swallowing gravel. The desk creaked as he leaned away, his free hand disappearing off-screen. You heard a drawer slide open, the rustle of plastic, then the unmistakable click of a button powering on.
When he came back into frame his hair was ruffled perfectly as he bit his lip. The toy in his hand was sleek and black, the silicone glistening under the ring light. "Got this yesterday," he admitted, thumb stroking lazily along his cock. The vibration setting hummed audibly through the phone speakers. "Was gonna debut it tomorrow for the degenerates." His grin turned wolfish as he adjusted the angle, catching the way the toy twitched in his grip. "But I think... I'd rather you see it first."
Chan's breath hitched as the fleshlight kissed the head of his cock, just barely, just enough to make his hips jerk forward instinctively. The dimmer lighting now caught the slickness already gathering there, the way his fingers trembled around the toy's base as he held it up. His gaze never left yours through the screen, dark and hungry, pupils swallowing the warm brown of his irises. "Fuck," he breathed, the word cracking halfway through as he rolled his hips again, dragging the tip through the tight entrance without pressing in. "Look at you—fucking yourself on your fingers like you wish it was me."
Your breath stuttered at the accusation, true, painfully so, as your fingers curled deeper inside yourself, the wet sound obscenely loud in the quiet of your bedroom. On screen, Chan's throat worked around a swallow. The toy remained at his tip, teasing,the black silicone glistening.
"Tell me," Chan rasped, his voice cracking under the strain as he finally, finally pushed the toy down in one torturously slow motion. The silicone stretched obscenely around his girth, the vibration setting making the entire shaft twitch visibly in his grip. "Tell me you imagined this." His hips rolled forward with deliberate slowness, the desk creaking under his shifting weight. "My cock fucking into you just like this—"
The moan tore from your throat before you could bite it back loud and needy. His hips stuttered forward into the toy’s tight grip, the vibration making his thighs tremble harder under the desk. "Fuck," he gritted out, his free hand scrambling to adjust the camera angle until it caught the obscene stretch of silicone around his cock, the way his knuckles whitened around the base. "That’s it, princess. Let me hear you."
Your fingers curled deeper, the heel of your palm grinding against your clit in rough, uneven circles that made your back arch off the mattress. The sheets tangled around you, damp with the evidence of your earlier climax, but the ache between your thighs was already building again, hotter this time.
Your fingers twitched against the phone screen hesitating before you exhaled sharply and reached for the nightstand drawer. The wood scraped open with a dry rasp, your fingers closing around the familiar silicone before your brain could second-guess the impulse. The toy was heavy in your palm, still faintly sticky with lube from last night’s escapades, and you watched Chan’s pupils dilate in real time as you brought it into frame.
"Oh?" His voice cracked mid-syllable, the toy in his own hand stuttering to a halt around his cock. The vibration setting buzzed faintly through the speakers.
"What’s that, princess?"
“You.” you replied mumbling as you adjusted your phone again, angling it just right. The screen wobbled momentarily before settling, the camera catching Chan’s sharp intake of breath as the silicone head pressed against your clit with a quiet buzz.
"Fuck," he hissed, his grip tightening around the toy buried in his lap. The vibration setting cranked up with a sharp twist of his wrist, making his thighs twitch harder.
The toy slid in with a slow, slick resistance that made you moan, half gasp, half whimper as your fingers tightened around the base. Chan's answering groan echoed through the phone speakers, rough and unfiltered, his hips stuttering forward into his own toy with ragged urgency. The camera wobbled as he adjusted his grip, catching the obscene stretch of silicone around his cock, the way his abs tensed with each shallow thrust.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice sandpaper-raw. The ring light glinted off the sweat beading along his collarbones, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to make the tendons stand out in sharp relief. "Taking it so fucking good—just like I knew you would." His thumb swiped over the head of his cock where it protruded from the toy's entrance, smearing precum in a slow circle that made you clench around the dildo.
The confession tumbled from your lips before you could bite it back raw, the kind of honesty that made your phone slip in your sweaty palm. "I wish this was you, Chan," you gasped, the toy bottoming out inside you with a slick sound that echoed through the speakers. "I wish you were in me every time."
Chan's breath hitched audibly, his grip on the toy tightening until his knuckles turned white. The camera wobbled as he leaned forward, catching the way his lips parted around a silent curse, the sweat-slicked hollow of his throat working as he swallowed harder. "Fuck," he rasped, his hips stuttering forward into the toy’s tight grip. The vibration setting buzzed louder, his thighs trembling under the desk.
"Seven days a week huh?" Chan teased, his smirk widening as he watched your pupils dilate through the screen. The camera caught the way his fingers slowed around the toy's base, his thumb tracing lazy circles where silicone met him, like he could physically feel the rhythm of your pulse into his skin. “You’re so cute..”
The words curled warm against your ear through the phone speakers, his accent thickening around the edges in a way that made your grip tighten around the toy buried inside you. Your hips jerked involuntarily at the sensation, the movement dragging a ragged gasp from your throat that Chan mirrored instantly, his own hips stuttering forward into the toy's tight grip with wet sounds.
The toy slipped deeper with a wet drag that made your back arch off the mattress, the vibrations turning up another notch as your thumb fumbled against the controls. Chan’s groan crackled through the speakers as his hips jerked forward into his own toy, the desk creaking under his shifting weight. "Fuck," he gritted out, "That’s it, princess. Faster."
Your fingers obeyed before your brain could catch up, twisting the dial until the toy buzzed violently against your clit, the sensation sharp enough to make everything in you tremble. On screen, Chan mirrored your movements with ragged urgency, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased the same high.
"Chan—I'm about to—" The words dissolved into a ragged moan as your fingers pumped harder, the vibrations swimming through you. Your thighs clenched around the silicone, the muscles trembling under the strain as your back arched off the mattress.
Chan didn’t stop moaning, his hips stuttering forward into his own toy with a wet slap that echoed in the quiet of your bedroom. The camera wobbled violently as he braced one hand against the desk, his other gripping the toy's base like a lifeline. "Do it," he gritted out, his voice shredded at the edges. "Come for me, princess. Let me see you."
The orgasm hit you as you listened to Chan’s words, your hips jerking off the mattress as the toy's vibrations sent shocks up your spine. Your thighs clamped around the silicone with a force that would've bruised flesh, your back arching as the first wave crashed over you. And then, unstoppable..
Squirt arched through the air, catching the dim bedroom light before splattering across your phone screen with a wet smack. The camera lens blurred instantly, droplets clinging to the glass in trembling constellations as your climax ripped through you with shuddering force.
Your fingers scrabbled against the sheets, the toy still buzzing violently against your clit as aftershocks wrecked your body, each pulse sending another spurt against the fogged-up phone.
Chan's entire body locked up, thighs trembling, the veins in his forearms standing out as his orgasm ripped through him with violent intensity. The toy made a wet, squelching sound as he slammed home one last time, his hips stuttering erratically while his cum painted the inside of the silicone in thick pulses. His groan cracked halfway through, transforming into something guttural and raw, the kind of sound that would've made you clench around nothing if you weren't already spent and twitching against the soaked sheets.
"Fuck—fuck—" Chan panted, his free hand scrambling to catch the edge of his desk as his vision whited out momentarily. The camera tilted, catching glimpses of his sweat-slicked torso heaving for air, the toy still clamped around his softening cock with an obscene grip. His fingers trembled visibly as he finally pulled out with a slick pop.
Chan blinked slowly at the mess on his screen, your phone screen still streaked with evidence. His lips parted around a shaky exhale before his smirk returned, lazy and sated. "Holy shit," he rasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. He dragged a hand down his face. "That was so fucking hot."
You laughed breathlessly, your fingers twitching against the damp sheets as you watched him through the phone, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, his abs flexing with each unsteady breath. "You're one to talk," you murmured, gesturing vaguely at the toy he'd abandoned on his desk. The silicone glistened under the ring light, strands of cum clinging to the entrance in sticky threads.
The phone slipped from your sweat-slicked fingers, landing face-up on the damp sheets. Chan's laughter echoed through the speakers
"Careful, princess," he murmured, his thumb swiping lazily along his lower lip. "Wouldn't want you breaking your phone before our next show."
"You're insufferable, never happening," you breathed.
The phone screen glistened under your trembling fingers soaked with evidence of your climax. You exhaled sharply through your nose, dragging the hem of your shirt over the smeared surface with embarrassment.
On screen, he was propped lazily against his desk, one hand stroking through his damp curls while the other toyed absently with the abandoned fleshlight.
"So," he grinned, tilting his phone until you could see his cocky expression. "I'll pick you up in an hour?"
The words hung between you like a lit match. Your breath caught, fingers tightening around the damp sheets as reality crashed over you, this wasn’t pixels and paid fantasies anymore.
"I just met you," you huffed, rolling your eyes hard. The phone screen flickered as you adjusted your grip, still shaky from earlier and caught the way Chan's smirk deepened in response. He leaned forward until his face filled the frame.
"Incorrect," he drawled, stretching the word out with deliberate slowness. His tongue escaping along his lower lip.
"We met weeks ago when you watched me cum every day up until now." The smirk playing at the corners of his mouth deepened as your flush crept down your neck. "Seems pretty intimate to me, doll."
"That's not—" You huffed, dragging a hand through your tangled hair.
"Let me rephrase," he murmured.
"You just squirted all over fucking Facetime for me." His teeth caught the edge of his grin. "I think we're past the 'we just met' bullshit, don't you?"
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sharp tap-tap-tap of Chan’s fingers drumming against his desk.
You opened your mouth to argue, to deflect, to say something, but the words died in your throat when Chan leaned forward abruptly, his face filling the frame again until all you could see was his pretty eyes and smirk that pulled you in, in the first place. "One date," he hummed, the words curling warm against your ear through the speakers. "If you hate me, I’ll refund your next month’s donations in advance."
"I hate you," you muttered, biting down on your lower lip to suppress the grin threatening to show on your face. "I'll send you my location now."
Chan's smile widened, infuriatingly, as he leaned forward.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
Pairing: Bangchan x Hyunjin x afab!reader
Genre: smut smut smut no minors pls! (Includes threesome,fingering, unprotected sex, smoking + mentions of weed)🔞
Wc: 4.4k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: I saw this the other day on threads and my brain sparked, obviously credit to the user but yeah i used it as inspo for this fic, current fav duo to write (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The fire escape groaned under Bangchan's boots, the rusted metal creaking every step as he hauled himself up the last few steps. His black nail polish was chipped more than usual. He exhaled sharply, shaking his damp bangs out of his eyes before hoisting himself onto the rooftop with a grunt.
Hyunjin was already there, lounging against an old AC unit like it was a throne, one leg bent, the other stretched out lazily.
His silver rings glinted as he tapped ash from his blunt onto the cracked concrete.
"Took you long enough," he said without looking up, though the corner of his mouth twitched. The city hummed below them, neon bleeding into the wet pavement, distant car horns weaving through the bassline of some half-remembered song drifting from Hyunjin's phone.
Bangchan snorted, kicking Hyunjin’s outstretched leg lightly as he dropped onto the sun-warmed concrete beside him. The rooftop still smelled like wet asphalt and cigarettes, the storm having left everything slick and glinting under the flickering streetlights below.
He stretched his legs out, the holes in his jeans gaping wider at the knees, and leaned back on his palms
"You try climbing that death trap with a bag of snacks," he muttered, pulling a crumpled paper bag from his hoodie pocket and tossed it on the floor. The scent of sweets spilled into the air, mixing with the earthy tang of weed.
Hyunjin’s eyes lit up, literally, the reflection of some neon sign catching in his pupils as he lunged for the bag.
"You beautiful dickhead," he said around a mouthful of gummies. He held the blunt out to Bangchan between his long fingers. The music shifted then, something with a heavier bassline, and Hyunjin’s free hand started tapping arrhythmically against his thigh, his rings clicking against the chains on his jeans.
You walked over quietly and sat in between the two boys comfortably.
Hyunjin’s shoulder bumped against yours as he leaned in, the weight of his head settling against your temple with the casual intimacy of someone who’d done it a thousand times before.
His hair smelled like vanilla shampoo and the lingering ghost of rain, strands of it tickling your cheek as he held up a gummy between his fingers.
“Open up,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, the kind of tone that made your stomach do something stupid. You rolled your eyes but obeyed, letting him drop the sweet onto your tongue, his fingertips brushing your lower lip for a fraction of a second too long.
The gummy was sticky, sweet, artificial strawberry bursting across your taste buds as you chewed. Hyunjin watched you with half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up when you made a face at the intensity of the flavor. “Too much?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. You grunted in response, and he laughed, the sound warm and familiar, vibrating through where his body pressed against yours.
"You're quieter today y/n," Bangchan mumbled around the blunt, smoke curling from his lips as he stared out at the city skyline. He didn’t turn to look at you, just exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear into the humid air.
Hyunjin shifted beside you, His knee bumped yours, deliberate. "Yeah," he drawled, popping another gummy into his mouth. "Usually you're the one yapping about some deep shit by now." His tone was light, but his fingers lingered near your wrist, tracing idle circles on the inside of your forearm like he was trying to coax the words out of you.
You laugh out shaking your head. “I’m fine you dorks.”
You couldn’t stop thinking about what a threesome would be like with them as embarrassing as it was. The gummy suddenly felt too thick in your throat. You swallowed hard, fingers tapping restlessly against your own thigh, mimicking Hyunjin’s earlier rhythm but without the confidence, without the ease. The memory of last night kept replaying in your head, Hyunjin’s elbow nudging yours as he grinned, all sharp canines and glittering eyes,
“What if we just—y’know. Had a threesome.” And Bangchan had smirked, actually smirked, like the idea was a shared secret instead of a joke, like he’d imagined it before.
Hyunjin’s fingers were still tracing circles on your wrist, his touch feather-light but burning. You wondered if he could feel your pulse jumping under your skin.
“Bullshit," Bangchan chuckled, finishing the blunt with one last drag before flicking the stub over the rooftop’s edge. He turned to face you fully, his knee bumping against yours as he shifted, the worn fabric of his jeans catching on the concrete. The neon from the various sign across the street painted his face in shifting hues of violet, making his piercings even prettier when he tilted his head.
"You’ve been zoning out since you got up here. And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ shit—you only chew your lip like that when you’re thinking too hard."
Hyunjin snorted, stretching his legs out further until his scuffed boots nudged your ankle. "Yeah, and you’ve been staring at Chan’s lips for the last five minutes like you’re trying to solve an equation."
The teasing lilt in his voice should’ve been annoying, but the way his fingers were still tracing absent, burning circles on your wrist betrayed his casual act.
The silence stretched between you layered with something unspoken. Bangchan’s knee stayed pressed against yours, warm even through the fabric of his jeans, and Hyunjin’s fingers had stilled on your wrist, his thumb resting right over your pulse point. You could feel it hammering beneath your skin, a traitorous, fluttering thing.
“Okay,” Bangchan said finally, voice low and measured, like he was carefully choosing each word. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the silver chain around his neck swinging slightly. The city lights caught the angles of his face, throwing shadows under his eyes.
“Let’s say—hypothetically..Hyunjin wasn’t joking last night.” He paused, and you could see his throat work as he swallowed. “What then?”
"Why do you two keep bringing it up?" you say, swallowing hard. Your voice came out quieter than you intended, nearly lost under the hum of the city and the muffled bass still pulsing from Hyunjin’s phone.
Hyunjin smirked, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over your cheek
"Because it could be interestinggg," he murmured, dragging the last word out like he was savoring it. His fingers stopped tracing circles on your wrist, instead sliding down to intertwine with yours, his rings cold against your skin.
The space between you evaporated like smoke too fast. Hyunjin’s knee slotted against yours as he leaned in, his grip on your hand tightening just enough to make your pulse stutter. His breath hitched when Bangchan mirrored him on your other side, the heat of his thigh pressing flush against yours.
Hyunjin’s smirk faltered for a half-second, his eyes darting to Bangchan over your shoulder, some silent question passing between them.
Bangchan exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching where they rested on his knee, before he reached out slowly, deliberately, and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
Hyunjin's smirk was all teeth, the neon glow catching the silver of his tongue piercing as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.
"Which one of us do you like more, my love?" he hummed, voice dripping with playful arrogance, but his fingers trembled slightly where they intertwined with yours. The question hung in the air like the last of smoke from Bangchan's discarded blunt, thick with implication.
Bangchan didn’t move from your other side, but you felt the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed under his shirt, the way his knee pressed harder against yours.
He didn’t speak, just watched you with those dark, liquid eyes. His silence was louder than Hyunjin’s teasing, heavier.
Hyunjin continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.
"I'm not as rough as Chan," he murmured into your ear,
"But I can be... thorough." The last word curled around you as you felt the weight of Bangchan's gaze on the side of your face, heavy and unreadable.
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. Hyunjin’s lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke again, softer this time. "Unless you want rough." His teeth grazed your earlobe, just a hint of pressure, enough to make your breath hitch, before he pulled back slightly, his smirk returning full force. His eyes flicked to Bangchan again, something unspoken passing between them, a challenge or a plea, you couldn’t tell.
The moment Hyunjin’s lips met yours, the city noise faded into static, nothing but the wet sound of his mouth moving against yours, the faint click of his tongue piercing against your teeth.
His grip on your hand tightened, his rings digging into your skin just enough to leave light indents. You gasped when Bangchan’s fingers slid up your thigh, his touch slow and calculated like he was mapping you out.
Hyunjin smirked into the kiss, pulling back just enough to murmur, "Told you it'd be interesting," before diving back in with more urgency.
His free hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to the cool air.
Bangchan’s fingers reached the edge of your shorts, his thumb tracing circles on the sensitive skin there. You shuddered, biting down on Hyunjin’s lower lip in retaliation, and he groaned, a low, broken sound that vibrated through your chest.
The fabric caught for a heartbeat on your hips before leaving, sliding down your thighs in a slow drag that left your skin prickling in the humid air.
"Fuckin' finally," Hyunjin muttered, pulling back just enough to watch Bangchan’s hands work, his smirk widening when your breath hitched. His thumb swiped over your lower lip, smearing the wetness there.
Bangchan didn’t rush. He never did. His movements were measured, almost lazy, as he eased the fabric down past your knees, his calloused palms skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He traced the arch of you with his fingertips, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "Pretty," he murmured, the word rough around the edges, like it had been waiting too long in his throat.
"Ah—fuck, this can't be happening," you mumbled, the words dissolving into a gasp as Hyunjin’s teeth scraped the tender skin below your ear. His lips were hot, relentless, mapping a trail of bruises down your neck like he was claiming territory.
You arched into him without meaning to, your back pressing against Bangchan’s chest, the hard lines of his body bracketing you from behind. His breath hitched when your head laid back against his shoulder, his fingers tightening on your hips.
Hyunjin chuckled against your throat, the vibration humming through your skin. "Too late," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the last of your shorts down past your knees, the fabric pooling around your ankles like a discarded thought. His rings were cold where they brushed your inner thighs, a stark contrast to the heat of his palms as they spread you wider, his thumbs tracing lazy circles just shy of where you needed him. "You’re already fucked, sweetheart."
Bangchan’s fingers traced the damp lace of your thong through your tights, the chill of his same rings pressing into your hot skin.
You moaned quietly, the sound barely escaping your lips before Hyunjin swallowed it with another searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with possessive intent. The rough pads of Bangchan’s fingertips dragged higher, hooking into the waistband of your tights, and the elastic snapped against your hip with a quiet thwip that made you jerk.
“Fuck—Chan,” you gasped, breaking away from Hyunjin’s mouth, your head falling back against Bangchan’s shoulder. His breath hit your throat, uneven and hot, as he peeled the fabric down inch by torturous inch, the cool night air kissing the newly exposed skin. Hyunjin watched with heavy-lidded eyes, his teeth biting down on his lower lip.
Hyunjin’s smirk was wicked as he glanced over your shoulder at Bangchan, some silent communication passing between them in the half second before Hyunjin ducked his head to your collarbone, his teeth scraping the thin skin there. You gasped, arching into the sensation just as Bangchan’s fingers finally slipped beneath your soaked underwear, his calloused fingertips dragging through your folds with agonizing slowness.
"Fuck," Hyunjin muttered against your throat, his breath hot as he palmed your breast over your shirt, his thumb circling your nipple through the fabric. The rough pad of his thumb pressed just hard enough to make you whimper.
"Look at you, so fucking responsive." His other hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, shoving it up until the cool air hit your stomach, his mouth following the exposed skin with hungry kisses.
Bangchan’s fingers curled inside you without warning, his palm pressing firmly against your clit as he worked you open with slow, deliberate strokes. The stretch burned just enough to make your thighs tremble, your hips jerking involuntarily against his hand. He exhaled sharply against the back of your neck, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he added a second finger, the drag of his knuckles against your inner walls making your vision blur at the edges.
Hyunjin’s mouth closed over your nipple, the wet heat of his tongue licking as his free hand fumbled with the other breast. His groan vibrated against your skin when he finally got his mouth on the bare flesh, his teeth scraping lightly before he sucked hard enough to make your back bow.
"God, you taste good," he mumbled against your breast, his fingers pinching your other nipple just shy of too hard.
The moment Hyunjin pulled back from your chest, his lips glistening and swollen, Bangchan’s fingers stilled inside you, a silent, mutual understanding passing between them in the space of a heartbeat.
Hyunjin’s smirk was sly as he flicked his perfect hair back and turned to face Bangchan fully, their knees bumping awkwardly around your sprawled legs.
“Who’s better? his fingers or my mouth?” Hyunjin taunted, voice rough with want, his fingers still toying lazily with your nipple as he leaned in.
Bangchan didn’t reply, just curled his fingers deeper inside you, wrenching a broken gasp from your throat, before withdrawing completely. His wet fingers glistened under the neon lights as he reached out, tangling them in Hyunjin’s hair and yanking him forward with a force that made your stomach flip. Their mouths crashed together, messy and uncoordinated at first, Hyunjin’s teeth catching Bangchan’s lower lip, Bangchan’s growl vibrating through the kiss as he bit down in retaliation.
You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, watching Bangchan yank Hyunjin closer by the hair, the wet sound of their kiss was brutal with their tongues sliding, teeth clashing and Hyunjin's silver piercing clicking against Bangchan's canines. A bead of spit trailed down Hyunjin's chin when they broke apart, his chest heaving as Bangchan licked into his mouth again, deeper this time, his free hand gripping Hyunjin's jaw hard enough to leave fingerprints.
Hyunjin gasped into the kiss, his fingers scrabbling at Bangchan's shirt, nails catching on the fabric as he pulled him closer. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, the hard line of his erection pressing against Bangchan's thigh through his jeans, and Bangchan groaned low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through you where you sat trapped between them.
"What a pretty day to spend fucking my two favorite people," Bangchan murmured, his voice rough with want as he yanked his band tee over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric caught briefly on his silver eyebrow ring before it joined the growing pile of clothes beside the AC unit. His abs were painted in dim neon lights, the shadows between his abs deepening as he reached for his belt buckle with trembling fingers.
Hyunjin didn't hesitate, just kicked off his scuffed boots and peeled his thin shirt off with a practiced twist of his shoulders. His collarbones glistened under the city's glow, the silver chains around his neck swinging as he leaned in to bite at Bangchan's shoulder.
"Took you long enough to admit it," he teased, his breath hot against Bangchan's skin as his fingers worked the button of Bangchan's jeans.
The buckle of Bangchan’s belt clattered against the concrete as Hyunjin yanked it free. Bangchan exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tightening in Hyunjin’s hair as the other boy dropped to his knees in front of him, his smirk never wavering even as his knees hit the rough rooftop.
You watched, transfixed, as Hyunjin nuzzled the bulge in Bangchan’s boxers, his lips brushing the fabric with deliberate slowness. His tongue darted out, tracing the outline of him through the thin cotton, and Bangchan’s hips jerked forward with a choked-off groan. Hyunjin chuckled, low and throaty, before hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging everything down in one smooth motion.
Hyunjin leaned back on his palms, the jagged concrete scraping his wrists as he arched his spine slightly, just enough to give you room to crawl between his spread legs.
His breath hitched when your fingers brushed the inside of his thigh, his hips jerking involuntarily as you moved closer. The worn fabric of his boxers strained against his erection, the damp spot at the tip already visible.
"You're so fucking pretty," he muttered, his voice rough as you nuzzled the length of him through the thin cotton. His thighs trembled when you exhaled against the heat of him, your breath seeping through the fabric. One of his hands left the rooftop to tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding, like he needed the anchor.
Your fingers trembled against the elastic waistband of Hyunjin’s boxers, just a fraction, just enough to make him notice.
His breath caught when you hooked your thumbs into the fabric, his hips lifting instinctively to help you slide them down. The air between you crackled with anticipation as you leaned forward, pushing your ass up and arching your back in one fluid motion, the movement deliberate and slow.
The rough concrete scraped your knees through the ripped fabric of your tights, but the sting barely registered, not when Hyunjin’s cock sprang free, flushed and leaking against his stomach, the tip glistening.
Hyunjin’s groan was ragged, his fingers tightening in your hair as you nuzzled the length of him, your lips brushing the sensitive skin just below the head. His thighs tensed under your palms, muscles quivering as you exhaled against him, the warmth of your breath making his hips jerk.
“Fuck—fuck,” he hissed, his free hand scrabbling at the rooftop for guidance, nails scraping against the cracked concrete.
Bangchan’s breath hit the nape of your neck first, warm and uneven, sending goosebumps cascading down your spine before his lips even touched you.
His nose brushed the damp strands of your hair, inhaling deeply like he was memorizing the scent of your shampoo and rooftop rain.
“God, you smell good,” he murmured, the words vibrating against your skin as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you back against the solid heat of his chest. His calloused fingers traced your tits, teasing the bare skin his touch featherlight but deliberate.
The moment your lips closed around Hyunjin, the city noises faded into a distant hum, nothing but the wet slide of your mouth working him, the sharp intake of his breath through clenched teeth. His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing, just holding, like he needed to remind himself it was really happening as you took him deeper.
The taste of salt and skin bloomed across your tongue, the weight of him heavy against it, and you moaned around him, the vibration drawing a ragged groan from Hyunjin's throat.
Bangchan’s teeth scraped your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as you arched into him, your back pressing flush against him and his cock.
The moment Bangchan’s hips pressed flush against yours, the blunt head of him nudging your entrance, Hyunjin’s fingers tightened in your hair so he could admire you.
“Fuck, look at you,” Hyunjin breathed, his voice ragged as he watched Bangchan’s hands grip your hips, his knuckles whitening with the effort of holding back. “Taking him so pretty.”
Bangchan didn’t ease in. With a sharp exhale, he rocked forward in one fluid motion, the stretch burning just enough to make your back arch, your nails scraping against Hyunjin’s thighs. The sound that tore from Bangchan’s throat was raw, guttural, half groan, half curse as he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. “God, fuckkk,” he choked out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.
You rolled your eyes back, hollowing your cheeks as you took Hyunjin deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with a wet click. His fingers spasmed in your hair, his thighs trembling under your palms as you sucked harder, faster the rhythm deliberate, relentless. The salt-bitter taste of him flooded your mouth, his precome smearing across your tongue as you pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the sensitive ridge beneath his head.
Hyunjin’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts above you, his free hand scrabbling at the rooftop like he was trying to claw through the concrete.
"Fuck—y/n , just like that," he choked out, his voice cracking on the last syllable as you dragged your lips back down his length, taking him all the way until your nose brushed the curls at his base. The vibrations of his moans traveled through your skull.
"Shit—look at this view," Bangchan groaned, his voice ragged as he fisted his hand in your hair and tugged your head back just enough. His other hand tangled with Hyunjin’s, their fingers interlacing roughly over your shoulder, silver rings clinking together, knuckles whitening from the grip. The city sprawled beneath you in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon and shadow, the distant hum of traffic drowned out by the wet sounds of Hyunjin’s cock sliding between your lips and Bangchan’s cock relentlessly moving in and out.
Hyunjin’s laugh was breathless, strained, his free hand scrabbling at your thigh as he watched Bangchan’s hips snap forward again, the sharp slap of skin on skin echoed.
"Fucking—perfect," he managed, his voice cracking as you hollowed your cheeks around him, your tongue pressing even harder. His fingers spasmed in Bangchan’s grip, their joined hands trembling where they hovered above you, in some unspoken pact.
The rhythm between you three became a brutal and synchronized, every sharp snap of Bangchan’s hips forward drove Hyunjin deeper down your throat, the head of his cock hitting the back of your mouth with each thrust. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder just as Bangchan pistoned into you with a rough groan, his grip bruising on your hips. The dual sensations blurred into one overwhelming tide, the stretch of Bangchan inside you, the weight of Hyunjin on your tongue, the wet, filthy sounds of skin slapping skin merging with loud moans. It felt embarrassingly like out of a badly shot porno.
Hyunjin’s fingers didn’t stop fidgeting in your hair, “Urghh—shit, she’s taking us both so good,” he rasped, voice shattered.
His head tipped back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as Bangchan’s pace turned erratic, his thrusts losing their measured control.
You felt your walls clenching, tight and sudden and suddenly the city lights broke into stars behind your eyelids. A ragged gasp tore from your throat, muffled around Hyunjin’s cock as your body trembled between them, every muscle locking in place. Bangchan’s fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his rhythm stuttering as your inner muscles pulsed around him in erratic waves.
“Ah fuck—fuck, she’s coming,” Bangchan growled, his voice shredded as he ground his hips flush against yours, his cock twitching deep inside you. The stretch burned deliciously, his pelvis pressing against your clit with each shallow thrust, dragging the orgasm out until tears pricked at your lashes.
Hyunjin’s fingers stayed in your hair, his other hand gripping Bangchan’s wrist where it was braced against your shoulder both of them holding you steady as you trembled between them, your thighs slick with sweat and spend.
Precome spilled hot and bitter across your tongue as Hyunjin’s control shattered.
“I’m—gonna—” His warning was raw, fractured, cut off by the first thick pulse against the back of your throat. You swallowed reflexively, the salt-burst flooding your senses as Bangchan’s hips stuttered against yours, his cock twitching deep inside you with each ragged thrust. His groan was guttural, his forehead pressing hard between your shoulder blades as he came, his fingers leaving crescent-shaped indents in your hips.
Bangchan’s hands trembled as he lifted you upright, his fingers unsteady where they pressed against your sweat-slick back. The neon lit skyline spun briefly in your vision before Hyunjin’s arms slid around you from behind, his chest pressing flush against your shoulder blades, warm and solid, grounding you as your head layed back against him. His chin hooked over your shoulder, his breath still ragged against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it when he murmured, “Fuck, you’re wrecked.”
Bangchan’s gaze flickered between your glazed eyes and Hyunjin’s smirk, his thumb swiping gently at the corner of your mouth where spit, and cum still glistened. He didn’t speak, just exhaled sharply through his nose and leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours as his fingers traced the curve of your jaw. His skin was fever hot against yours, his pulse thundering where his wrist brushed your collarbone.
You blinked up at them through your lashes, vision still swimming with the aftershocks, your lips parted and swollen. Hyunjin’s pupils blown wide, Bangchan’s lower lip caught between his teeth. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Hyunjin’s smirk returned, slow and deliberate, as he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “Look at you,” he murmured, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “All fucked-out and pretty.”
Bangchan exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your temple as he leaned in, his nose bumping yours. There was no hesitation just the sudden press of his lips against yours, rough and claiming, his tongue sliding against yours before you could catch your breath. The taste of him, smoke and something distinctly Chan flooded your senses, his fingers tangling in your hair to angle your head just so.
Hyunjin’s fingers carded through your sweat-damp hair, his rings catching on tangles as he laughed low and breathless,
“We’re definitely coming back up here,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, his breath warm and still uneven.
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
Pairing: Jeongin x afab!reader
Genre: smut smut smut no minors pls! (Includes oral ,fingering, protected sex)🔞
Summary: Sleepover with your dear roommate Jeongin. Frustrated he finds himself in the bathroom at 3am.
Wc: 5.8k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: Spreading the word that Jeongin has a massive cock and doesn’t know what to do with it lol (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The red digits of the alarm clock blinked 3:17 AM when the mattress first shifted. You'd been drifting in that pleasant nowhere between dreams and wakefulness, limbs tangled in the comforter Jeongin had stolen twice already tonight. His warmth had been pressed along your back just minutes ago.
"Mmh...Innie?" you mumbled, patting the empty space beside you. The sleepover had been his idea, popcorn bags scattered everywhere, horror movies paused halfway when he'd yelped and buried his face against your shoulder. Now the room was too quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and you froze, a wet, rhythmic sound from behind the bathroom door. The crack of light beneath it painted a gold stripe across the carpet.
The sound wasn't quite crying, something stickier, more strained and your socked feet hit the floor before your brain caught up. Cold floorboards bit through the thin fabric as you shuffled toward the bathroom door, knuckles hovering over the door. "Innie?" The nickname came out thick with sleep.
Your knuckles barely grazed the bathroom door when it swung inward with a creak.The humidity hit first, thick with the scent of mint toothpaste and something muskier underneath. Then the sight,Jeongin braced against the sink counter, school hoodie rucked up to his collarbones, fist moving in his sweatpants with a desperation that made your throat click. His head snapped up, eyes blown black in the fluorescent light, lips parted around a gasp.
The moan that followed wasn't the scared kind from earlier when the movie ghost appeared, this one curled low in his belly and spilled out ragged. His hips stuttered. "Fuck—" His free hand scrambled for the hem of his hoodie, yanking it down too late, but his fingers kept moving under the fabric. "Didn't...mean to wake you," he panted, voice wrecked.
You stand there slightly shocked, not sure what to say before replying, "I—" The word hung in the humid air between you, unfinished. Jeongin's fingers stilled under his hoodie, his chest heaving like he'd sprinted up a flight of stairs. The faucet dripped behind him, the sound impossibly loud in the silence. His eyes darted to the towel rack, the shower curtain, anywhere but your face like if he looked away long enough, you might disappear and let him pretend this wasn't happening.
Your brain finally caught up with your mouth. "I didn't—" You swallowed, your own pulse loud in your ears. "I didn't know you were..." Awake? Horny? Desperate enough to jerk off in your bathroom at 3 AM after clinging to you through two horror movies? The sentence died in your throat.
You cleared your throat, the sound embarrassingly loud and took a half step closer before your brain could catch up with your body. The tile floor was cold under your socks, but everywhere else felt feverish, your cheeks, your throat, the space between your ribs where your pulse hammered against bone. Jeongin’s hoodie was still bunched awkwardly around his waist, his fingers twitching beneath the fabric like he couldn’t decide whether to stop or keep going.
“I didn’t mean to—” you started again, but Jeongin cut you off with a shaky exhale, his free hand gripping the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Do you—” Your voice cracked on the first attempt, forcing you to wet your lips. The second time, it came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper against the hum of the bathroom fan. “Do you want any help with that?”
Jeongin’s breath hitched audibly, his fingers freezing under his hoodie. His gaze snapped to yours dark, startled, pupils blown so wide the brown of his irises was nearly swallowed. The flush creeping down his neck deepened.
Jeongin's throat worked as he swallowed hard, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. His fingers twitched again beneath the fabric, a small, aborted movement that sent heat licking up your spine. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under his lashes as his eyes flicked between yours searching, uncertain.
"You don't have to," he finally rasped, voice raw in a way that made your stomach tighten. His hips shifted almost imperceptibly, the fabric of his sweatpants tenting where his hand was still hidden. "I can—I should just—"
Your fingers brushed against Jeongin's wrist before either of you could overthink it, light at first, just enough to feel the damp heat radiating through his hoodie sleeve. His pulse jumped under your touch. "I know I don't have to," you murmured, sliding your palm down until you met the feverish skin of his stomach. The fabric between you was damp with sweat, sticking to his skin as you pressed closer. "But I want to."
Jeongin made a sound like he'd been punched, a sharp exhale that dissolved into a whimper when your fingertips dipped beneath his waistband. His hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing the contact, and you felt the moment his control snapped. His hand fell away from under his hoodie with a shaky sigh, letting you take over, his fingers instead gripping the sink counter behind him like he might float away otherwise.
Your fingers closed around him properly now, skin hot and slick against your palm, and Jeongin's knees buckled just slightly before he caught himself against the sink. His breath came in shallow gasps as you stroked him slowly, experimentally, learning the weight and shape of him through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. The sound he made when your thumb brushed over the head was muffled against his own sleeve, bitten into the fabric as his shoulders hunched forward.
"Don't—" he started, then choked when you twisted your wrist just so on the upstroke. His hips stuttered forward into your grip, chasing the friction. "Don't tease," he managed, voice wrecked.
"You look cute like this though," you murmured, watching the way Jeongin's breath hitched at your words his entire body tensing. You tightened your grip just slightly, enough to make his hips jerk forward with a punched out moan.
The sound of Jeongin's palm sliding against the mirror as he braced himself was obscenely loud,his fingers leaving streaks in the condensation as they trembled. "That's—" he started, then choked when your thumb circled the head of his cock, smearing the wetness already gathered there. His voice cracked. "That's not fair."
The tile was cold against your knees as you lowered yourself down. Jeongin’s breath stuttered above you, his fingers twitching against the mirror like he couldn’t decide whether to reach for you or brace himself further. You didn’t give him time to overthink it, your free hand slid up his thigh, feeling the muscle tense beneath your palm, before hooking your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants.
Jeongin made a noise halfway between a gasp and a whine when you tugged them down just enough, the fabric pooling around his knees. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, the tip glistening under the harsh bathroom light. For a heartbeat, you just looked, memorizing the way his stomach clenched when you exhaled against him, the way his thighs trembled when you traced a fingertip along the vein running the length of him.
Jeongin’s cock stood at attention, thick and flushed, the shaft curving slightly upward like it had a mind of its own. It was almost comically large compared to the rest of him, lean hips, narrow waist, the kind of frame that made his hoodies hang loose. The contrast was dizzying, the way his fingers had looked small around it earlier, straining to fit, like he couldn’t quite get enough friction no matter how fast he moved. Now it twitched against your palm, hot and heavy, as if protesting the sudden lack of attention.
"You—" Jeongin's voice cracked as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over the swollen head. His thighs trembled when you licked a slow stripe from base to tip, tasting salt and musk and something uniquely him. "Fuck, you don't have to—" The rest of his sentence dissolved into a gasp when you took him into your mouth, the weight of him pressing against your tongue almost overwhelming.
The stretch of your lips around him burned pleasantly, too much at first, the blunt head nudging roughly against the back of your throat until your eyes watered. You gagged reflexively, pulling back with a wet sound that made Jeongin whimper above you, his fingers tangling in your hair like he wasn't sure whether to push you away or drag you closer. His thighs trembled when you tried again, slower this time, letting your tongue flatten against the thick vein running along his shaft as you took him deeper.
"Shit—" Jeongin's voice fractured into a moan when your lips finally met the base of his cock, your nose pressed flush against his stomach. His hips jerked forward instinctively before he caught himself, one hand slapping against the mirror to steady himself. "Sorry, sorry—" he gasped, but you hummed around him in reassurance, the vibration making his knees buckle. His fingers tightened in your hair, not pushing, just holding on like you were the only thing keeping him upright.
Jeongin's confession punched through the humid air between you, raw and ragged like he'd torn it from somewhere deep in his chest. His hips stuttered against your lips, the movement uncoordinated now half-thrust, half-retreat, as if his body couldn't decide whether to chase pleasure or hide from the truth spilling out of him.
"I kept—" His breath hitched when you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, his fingers flexing in your hair. "Kept thinking about you, your hands, your mouth—" The words dissolved into a moan as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make his thighs shake.
The taste of him flooded your senses salty and bitter and perfect, as you pulled off just enough to murmur against his slick skin, "Should've woken me up earlier." Your thumb circled the swollen head, smearing the wetness pooling there. "Could've had the real thing instead of your hand."
Jeongin made a sound like you'd punched him. The mirror behind him was completely fogged now, his reflection blurred except for the white-knuckled grip he had on the sink counter. "You don't—" His voice cracked when you licked a slow stripe up his shaft, your fingers tightening at the base. "You don't know how many times I almost did."
Jeongin's hips jerked forward when your teeth grazed the sensitive skin just beneath the head. "Fuck—those—" His voice cracked, his fingers scrambling against the fogged mirror for help as you swallowed him down again. "Those fucking shorts you wear—"
The confession tumbled out between gasps, his thighs trembling under your palms. You pulled off with a wet pop, looking up through your lashes to find Jeongin's face flushed red, his lips bitten raw. His hoodie had ridden up completely now, revealing his lean abs clenching with every shallow breath.
Jeongin’s fingers flexed against the mirror, his knuckles white as he stared down at you, eyes dark with something that wasn’t just hunger, but disbelief, like he couldn’t quite imagine the sight of you on your knees with the reality of it.
You sucked harder, taking him deeper until your lips pressed flush against the damp patch of curls at the base, feeling a stupid, giddy rush of pride at the sheer size of him stretching your mouth. Jeongin made a sound like glass shattering, his thighs trembling against your shoulders as you swallowed reflexively around him, your throat working to accommodate the thick intrusion. The stretch burned in the best way, your jaw aching pleasantly as you pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the swollen head before diving down again.
He gasped your name, half-plea, half-prayer, his voice cracking on the last syllable. The muscles in his stomach jumped under your free hand, his hips twitching forward in shallow, aborted thrusts like he was fighting not to fuck your mouth properly.
"Fuck—fuck—" Jeongin’s voice was wrecked, barely audible over the wet sounds filling the humid bathroom.
Jeongin's knees buckled first, a sudden collapse that would've sent him crashing to the tile if your hands hadn't shot out to brace his hips. The warning came too late, his voice cracking around your name as his cock pulsed against your tongue, hot and thick, flooding your mouth with the taste of him. His body arched into the sensation.
You swallowed instinctively, the muscles of your throat working around him as he twitched against your tongue.
Tears streamed down your face as Jeongin wiped your drool away with his veiny hands, those same fingers that had been buried in your hair moments ago now trembling against your cheek. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, considering how rough he'd been with himself earlier, thumb brushing over your damp skin like he was memorizing the texture. "Shit," he breathed, voice still wrecked, pupils blown so wide his irises were nearly invisible. "Did I—did I hurt you?"
You shook your head, swallowing the last traces of him with a wet click of your throat that made Jeongin's breath hitch. His fingers lingered at the corner of your mouth, catching a stray droplet you'd missed. The bathroom light hummed overhead, casting sharp shadows under his lashes as he stared at his own fingertips, glistening with your spit and his cum, before slowly dragging them across your bottom lip. His throat worked as he watched the way your tongue darted out instinctively to clean the digit, his hips jerking forward weakly like his body hadn't quite gotten the memo that he was spent.
The first brush of Jeongin's lips against yours was hesitant, still tasting himself on your tongue, his fingers trembling where they cradled your jaw. The contrast of his earlier desperation against this sudden gentleness made your stomach flip, the ache between your thighs sharpening as his hoodie brushed against your bare arms. His exhale hitched when you nipped at his bottom lip.
"You're—" Jeongin started, then gasped when your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer until his hips slotted against yours. The damp heat between your legs pressed against his thigh through your pajama shorts, and his pupils blew even wider. "Fuck, you're really—"
"You're so beautiful," Jeongin breathed against your lips, the words sticky with leftover desire, his thumbs tracing the curve of your jaw. His hoodie sleeves were still pushed up to his elbows from earlier, exposing the delicate veins along his forearms.
The bathroom light buzzed above you, He pulled back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his gaze darting between your swollen lips, the tear tracks drying on your skin, the way your chest still rose and fell too quickly. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his voice cracking when he murmured, "Like this—fuck, especially like this." His fingers strayed to your lower lip, pressing gently until it gave under his touch. "All messy because of me."
Jeongin's fingers hesitated at the hem of your shorts, hovering there like he was waiting for permission, for a sign this was real before his knuckles grazed the damp fabric carefully. His breath hitched when he found the heat of you through the thin material, his touch impossibly gentle compared to the frantic way he'd touched himself earlier."You're—"
The rest of the sentence died when his fingertips brushed over the soaked-through cotton, tracing the shape of you. His thumb pressed against your clit through the fabric in an experimental circle, and your hips jerked forward involuntarily, a gasp tearing from your throat. Jeongin made a wounded noise in response, his free hand gripping the sink counter like he needed to anchor himself, his knuckles whitening with the effort not to push you against the tiles right then.
You couldn't help the moan that escaped when your walls clenched around nothing, a hot, empty ache that made your thighs press together instinctively. Jeongin's breath hitched at the sound, his thumb stilling against your clit through your pajama shorts. His eyes darted up to yours, wide and dark with something like wonder, like he couldn't believe he'd put that sound in your throat.
"Fuck," he breathed, his fingers flexing against the damp fabric. His other hand left the sink to hover near your hip, trembling slightly before finally settling on your waistband. "Can I—?" The question came out ragged, his teeth digging into his already swollen bottom lip.
You bit your lip and nodded, looking up at him innocently through your lashes. His fingers hovered at your waistband like he was afraid the fabric might dissolve under his touch, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he waited for confirmation.
The memory hit you as Jeongin’s fingers fumbled with the drawstring of your pajama shorts. That rainy afternoon three weeks ago when your bedroom walls had felt paper-thin, the rhythmic creak of his bedframe just audible through the wall. You’d pressed your face into your pillow to muffle the sounds, but your hips had arched into your own touch anyway, imagining his wide-eyed stare if he ever caught you like this. Now here he was, knuckles brushing your bare stomach as he peeled the fabric down your thighs, his breath stuttering like he’d forgotten how to exhale.
"Shit," Jeongin breathed against your lips, laughter trembling in his voice as his fingers traced the damp hem of your shorts. "We really can't go back to being just friends after this." His thumb pressed into the soft skin of your inner thigh, the touch feather-light compared to the wrecked way he'd gasped your name minutes ago.
The admission hovered between you. You remembered how he'd poke and prod you randomly to annoy you. Now those same fingers were sliding under your waistband with a confidence that made your breath stop, his touch scorching against your overheated skin.
Jeongin's fingers tightened around your waist a second before your feet left the tile floor, his grip unexpectedly sure for someone who'd trembled so violently against the sink minutes ago. The sudden elevation made your stomach swoop, your arms looping instinctively around his neck as he carried you through the bathroom doorway.
The bedroom air hit your bare legs first, cooler than the bathroom's humidity, raising goosebumps along your thighs where your shorts had ridden up during the ride. Jeongin didn't stumble so much as sway, his knees dipping slightly when your teeth grazed the pulse point beneath his jaw. His exhale hitched against your hair, warm and uneven, as he adjusted his grip beneath your thighs—one hand sliding higher up your leg than strictly necessary for support.
Jeongin placed you on the bed. Halfway through tugging his hoodie over his head, the fabric caught on his elbows, sleeves inside-out and tangled, exposing the sharp lines of his ribs where they curved into his waist. The fluorescent bathroom light spilled across his collarbones, still damp with sweat, making him glow like something otherworldly. “Jeongin i need you..” you whine.
His breath hitched at your whine, fingers twitching against the shorts. "You—" His voice cracked, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "You have me."
The hoodie hit the floor as Jeongin surged forward to catch your lips again. His hands found your hips automatically, thumbs pressing into the divots above your pelvis like he'd mapped them in his dreams. The kiss was messy, off-center, his teeth clipping your lower lip in his haste, but you moaned into it anyway, arching into the heat of his bare chest against yours.
Jeongin's lips crashed into yours with none of the earlier hesitation, hot and insistent. The bedsprings groaned beneath you as he crowded you backward, his knee slotting between your thighs with practiced ease that made you wonder how long he'd imagined this exact angle. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched the frantic pace of his earlier thrusts into your mouth.
The comforter bunched under your elbows as Jeongin leaned over you, his free hand skating down your side to grip your hip, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth. His hips jerked forward instinctively at the sound. The friction of his bare thigh against yours was dizzying, the damp heat between your legs aching with each ragged breath Jeongin exhaled against your collarbone.
Jeongin's teeth sank into the foil packet before you'd even fully registered reaching for it, his canines flashing in the dim light as he tore through the plastic with a sharp twist of his head. The sound was obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom, punctuated by the wet click of him spitting the torn edge onto the floor beside the bed. His pupils were blown so wide that you could almost see your own reflection.
You barely had time to blink before Jeongin was surging forward again, the condom still clutched in one hand while the other cradled your jaw, his grip firm enough to tilt your head back but gentle enough that his thumb could trace the curve of your bottom lip. His kiss was messy, off-center.
The condom unfurled between his fingers translucent and slick under the dim bedroom light. You watched, mesmerized, as he pinched the tip between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand guiding himself, thick and flushed, the head already glistening, into the latex with a shaky exhale.
The sight punched the air from your lungs, Jeongin's long fingers struggling to roll the condom down his length, his hips jerking forward involuntarily when the material caught midway. His breath hitched, forehead pressing against your shoulder as he worked the latex lower, the veins in his arms standing out with the effort it took not to thrust into his own grip. When it finally settled at the base, the tight ring of it made his cock twitch visibly against his stomach.
Jeongin's cock almost looked too big for the condom, the latex stretched tight over the thickest part of his shaft, the veins standing out. A bead of precum pearled at the tip, smearing against the inside of the condom when he gave himself an experimental stroke, his breath catching audibly. The sight was obscene, his length flushed dark against the pale rubber, the tight ring at the base making his balls draw up slightly as he shuddered.
"Fuck," Jeongin breathed, his voice cracking as he adjusted the condom with trembling fingers. The latex made a wet sound when he tugged it down further, revealing how much thicker he was at the base, the material straining dangerously where it met his pelvis. "It's—" His hips jerked forward involuntarily when your fingertips brushed against the underside of his cock, tracing the prominent vein through the thin barrier. "It's too tight."
Jeongin smirked, a quick, lopsided thing that flashed across his face before disappearing into the blush creeping up his neck. The contrast was dizzying, the same boy who'd whimpered into your mouth moments ago now looking down at you with something dangerously close to confidence, even as his fingers trembled against your hip. "Too tight," he repeated, voice lower than you'd ever heard it, his thumb rubbing absent circles against your skin. "Guess you'll have to help me with that."
The condom stretched obscenely over him, the translucent material clinging to every vein and ridge as he gave himself another experimental stroke. His breath hitched when your fingers joined his, tracing the tight ring of latex at the base, watching the way his stomach muscles jumped at the contact. "Like this?" you murmured, tugging gently until the material slid lower, revealing more of that flushed, leaking tip. Jeongin's knees buckled slightly, his free hand shooting out to brace against the headboard with a thud that rattled the bedframe.
You giggled, a breathless, disbelieving sound, as Jeongin lined himself up, his hands trembling against your thighs where they bracketed his hips. The tip of him caught at your entrance, slick with both your arousal and the lube from the condom.
"Fuck," Jeongin gasped, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks as he hesitated, his cock twitching against you. His forehead was damp with sweat, his bangs sticking to his skin in messy strands as he looked down at you. "You're—" His voice cracked, his hips jerking forward involuntarily when your nails scraped lightly down his back. "You're sure?"
"Yes," you breathed, your thumb tracing the flushed curve of Jeongin's cheekbone, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips. His eyelashes fluttered at the contact, long and unfairly pretty for a guy. The corner of his mouth twitched when your fingers drifted lower, catching on his bitten, red lip.
Jeongin entered you slowly, so slowly it made your toes curl into the sheets, every millimeter of him stretching you wider than you'd anticipated. His breath fanned across your collarbone in uneven bursts, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was fighting not to thrust forward all at once. You could feel the tremble in his thighs where they bracketed yours, the tension in his shoulders as he held himself still, his forehead pressed against yours like an anchor.
"Okay?" he whispered, the word cracking halfway through. His eyelashes fluttered against your cheekbone when you nodded, his exhale shuddering against your lips as he sank deeper. The stretch burned, not painfully, but overwhelmingly, your body struggling to accommodate the thick length of him as he pressed forward with agonizing patience. Jeongin made a wounded noise against your neck when your walls clenched reflexively around him.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you, okay, pretty girl?" Jeongin's voice was raw, frayed at the edges so unlike his usual bright teasing that it made your chest ache. His fingers traced trembling patterns along your ribcage, mapping the rapid flutter of your heartbeat beneath sweat-slick skin. The bedsprings creaked as he shifted his weight, his hips stuttering forward another fraction of an inch, the stretch burning deliciously where your bodies joined.
You could see the exact moment your sharp inhale registered in his hazy eyes, his pupils contracting slightly before dilating again, dark as spilled ink. His Adam's apple bobbed violently when you arched beneath him, your nails scoring half-moons into his shoulders. "Say it," he breathed, pressing a damp kiss to your collarbone. His lips trembled against your skin. "Say the word and I'll stop. I'll—fuck—I'll pull out right now."
"Jeongin, I love it—please don't stop," you moan, the words fracturing into a gasp as his hips jerk forward involuntarily at the sound. His entire body tenses above you, muscles locking like he's been electrocuted, his cock twitching deep inside you where you're stretched impossibly tight around him.
Jeongin started pumping slow at first, just shallow rolls of his hips that made your breath hitch each time his cock dragged against that sweet spot inside you. His movements were hesitant, almost experimental, like he was testing how far he could push before you'd break. Every thrust drew a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours.
"Fuck," Jeongin breathed against your collarbone, his voice cracking mid-syllable as he pulled back slightly only to sink in again, deeper this time. His thighs trembled against yours, the muscles taut with the effort to keep his rhythm steady. "You feel—" He cut himself off with a broken groan when your walls fluttered around him, his hips stuttering forward instinctively.
Jeongin's thumb found your clit by accident at first, brushing against it clumsily when he shifted his grip on your hip, his fingers flexing against your skin like he was afraid you'd dissolve beneath him. The contact sent a jolt through you so sharp your back arched off the mattress, your thighs clamping around his waist involuntarily. His breath hitched at the reaction, his pupils blowing wider as he dragged his thumb back deliberately this time, applying just enough pressure to make your toes curl into the sheets.
His touch was feather-light at first until your hips jerked against his hand with a broken whine. The sound seemed to unravel something in him, his fingers turned bolder, firmer, rubbing tight little circles that had your vision blurring at the edges.
"Jeongin-ah—" The name fractured into a gasp as his hips snapped forward harder, the sudden shift in angle punching the air from your lungs. His fingers dug into your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he chased his own pleasure with a desperation that made your thighs tremble. The rhythmic creak of the bedsprings filled the room, each thrust punctuated by the wet sound of skin against skin, the condom stretching tight with every movement.
He rutted into you with want, his earlier hesitation dissolving beneath the weight of his need. His lips found yours again in a messy, open-mouthed kiss that tasted of salt and mint, his tongue sliding against yours in time with his thrusts. You could feel the tremble in his arms where they bracketed your head, the way his entire body shuddered when your nails raked down his back.
His fingers didn’t stop moving, not when you dug your nails into his shoulders. Jeongin's thumb kept circling your clit with relentless precision, the pad of his finger slick with your arousal as he matched the rhythm of his thrusts to the tight, shuddering pulses of your body. The contrast was dizzying, the rough drag of his cock inside you versus the featherlight tease of his fingertips, until you couldn’t tell where one sensation ended and the other began.
"Look at you," Jeongin breathed, his voice wrecked, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hips snapped forward again. His bangs stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. "Taking me so fucking good—" The words dissolved into a groan when your walls fluttered around him, his fingers stuttering momentarily before doubling their efforts.
"Innie—I can't hold it anymore," you cried out, the words fracturing into a gasp as Jeongin's thumb pressed harder against your clit, his hips stuttering against yours in response. Your thighs trembled violently around his waist, toes curling into the sheets as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.
Jeongin made a wounded noise against your collarbone, his lips dragging wetly across your sweat-slick skin. "Then don't," he panted, his voice raw and ragged like he'd been screaming for hours."Fuck—please don't hold back."
Jeongin's hips snapped forward roughly, just the raw, unbridled need to feel you cum apart around him. The bedframe groaned in protest as he drove into you harder, his rhythm turning erratic when your walls first fluttered around him. "Ah—" His voice cracked, forehead dropping against yours as he panted, sweat dripping from his temples onto your collarbones. "You're—fuck—you're squeezing me so tight—"
The words unraveled into a moan when your body clenched around him properly, a shuddering wave of pleasure that had your back arching off the mattress. His thumb still working frantic circles against your clit even as his thrusts turned sloppy with desperation.
Jeongin's hips stuttered against yours, once, twice, before his entire body locked up with a choked-off gasp, his fingers digging into your thighs hard. You could feel the exact moment he came apart, the way his cock twitched deep inside you, the muffled groan against your neck that sounded more like a sob than anything else. His thrusts turned shallow and uneven, his rhythm fracturing completely as his orgasm tore through him with violent intensity.
Jeongin's lips found yours before either of you remembered he was still inside you a clumsy, breathless kiss. His mouth moved sluggishly against yours, his brain still fogged with pleasure as his hips gave one last, half-hearted twitch against yours. The condom stretched tight between your bodies made a wet sound when he shifted slightly, his cock still twitching inside you with aftershocks.
"Wait—" Jeongin gasped when you nipped at his lower lip, his hands scrambling to brace against the mattress as his softening length slipped free unexpectedly. The sensation punched a soft moan from both of you, Jeongin's shuddering against your mouth while yours dissolved into the humid space between your lips. His forehead dropped against yours with a weak thud, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheekbones as he struggled to catch his breath. "Fuck. That was..."
"So good," you breathed, fingers intertwined through Jeongin's with a sticky intimacy.
Jeongin's fingers trembled against the stretched latex where it clung tightly to the base of his cock, still half-hard and twitching with oversensitivity. The condom bulged with his release, the translucent material straining against the weight of his cum inside. His breath hitched when your fingertip traced the swollen tip experimentally, smearing the moisture beading along the stretched surface.
The sight punched the air from Jeongin's lungs, his own cum dripping thickly from the torn edge of the condom, dangling over his clenched stomach before splattering onto the sheets between your tangled legs. His throat worked as he stared, transfixed, at the mess he'd made. The latex made a sickeningly erotic sound when it finally slipped from his fingers to land on the floor beside the bed, forgotten instantly when your thigh brushed against his oversensitive skin.
Jeongin's breath caught when your fingertips traced the sharp lines of his abdomen, still glistening with sweat where they flexed beneath your touch. His stomach muscles jumped under your exploration, his hips twitching weakly against the mattress like his body couldn't decide whether to arch into the contact or shy away from oversensitivity.
You giggled at the reaction, your nail scraping lightly over one particularly defined ridge just to watch him shudder. "I think I need to buy bigger condoms now," you murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand drifted lower.
The sound Jeongin made was halfway between a groan and a whimper, his fingers scrambling to catch yours before you reached the still-sensitive head of his cock. "You—" His voice cracked.
Jeongin's fingers froze around yours, midway through intertwining them, when his hips jerked forward weakly against your thigh. A startled noise caught in his throat, his breath hitching audibly when his still sensitive cock twitched against your bare skin. "Baby, I'm—" His voice cracked, the flush creeping down his neck deepening as his body betrayed him spectacularly. "Fuck, I'm hard again already."
The confession punched the air from your lungs, your gaze darting down between your tangled bodies where his length pressed thick and undeniable against your thigh. The sight shouldn't have been possible not with how thoroughly wrecked he'd looked minutes ago, not with the condom still lying discarded on the floor beside the bed but there he was, flushed and twitching against your skin like this was his first time rather than his third orgasm in an hour.
Hi! I hope you’re doing well and good! I have a request if you don’t mind!
Basically: 9th member reader (gn or male pls) who is just really happy to be an idol, they’re aware of all the negatives of the job but they’re so positive and smile every chance they get that no one can be mad at them for too long, STAY and the other guys also tease them a lot, (basically a combination of Felix Han and jeongin)
Ofc you don’t have to write it, but if you do take your time!
Table for nine 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
Pairing: OT8 x gn!reader
Genre: fluff/crack 🌻
Wc: 5.3k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: Hii thank youu @niku0704 for suggesting this <33 mwah this was so fun to write!! Idk i’ve done a lot of smut recently so this was a nice change of pace, i hope u like (this isn’t proof read so i hope it’s not too unreadable) (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
"Your shoelace is untied,"Hyunjin said, leaning against the practice room mirror with a smirk. You didn't even glance down, just kicked his foot up mid-spin and kept dancing.
The other members erupted into laughter, half-collapsed against each other like dominoes. Even Chan, who'd been scowling at the choreography notes seconds ago, was smiling. You grinned, sweat-damp hair sticking to your forehead as you bounced on your toes. "Nice try, Hyunjinnie," you chirped, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
Hyunjin clutched his chest as he staggered back against the mirror. "Was that necessary?" he whined, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. You just wiggled your eyebrows and spun again, nearly colliding with Seungmin, who sidestepped with surprising grace for someone who'd been mid-yawn seconds ago.
"Careful," he said, deadpan, though his fingers flicked your shoulder lightly, an affectionate nudge disguised as scolding.
The choreographer clapped her hands from the corner, signaling the next run-through, but Jeongin was already flopping onto the floor like a starfish. "Break first," he groaned, face pressed against the cool wood. "My knees are going to break."
"Come on, last run through! Put your whole self into it!" you sang out, clapping your hands together with enough enthusiasm to make Changbin snort into his water bottle.
The choreographer shot you a grateful look, someone had to rally the troops, and you beamed back before spinning on your heel to face the others. Felix, slumped against the wall with his shirt clinging to his chest, gave you a slow blink. "You're terrifying," he muttered, but he was already pushing off the wall, shaking out his limbs like a wet dog.
Jeongin let out a theatrical groan from his starfish position. "I am my whole self right here on the floor," he lamented, limbs splayed. You skipped over and crouched beside him, poking his ribcage. "Nope! Your whole self is standing up and nailing this formation," you chirped. When he groaned louder, you added, "I'll carry you."
Jeongin's groan melted into giggles as he flopped his hand dramatically into yours, fingers limp like overcooked noodles.
"Fine, fine, but only because you're cute," he sighed, letting you haul him upright with exaggerated effort, though the second he was on his feet, he immediately draped himself over your shoulders like a human scarf.
"You promised to carry me," he sing-songed, and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter through your scalp.
The choreographer cleared her throat, but the corners of her mouth were twitching.
"Positions, everyone." You staggered forward in mock distress, Jeongin's weight making you wobble like a newborn giraffe, until Seungmin hooked two fingers into the back of his collar and peeled him off with a dry, "You're embarrassing us."
Jeongin gasped, clutching his chest like he'd been shot, but he fell into place beside you with surprising precision, still grinning.
The music kicked in again, that familiar pulse thrumming through the practice room speakers like a second heartbeat.
You bounced on the balls of your feet, adrenaline buzzing under your skin despite the ache in your calves, this was the part where the formation shifted like liquid, all nine of you sliding into place like puzzle pieces.
The formation snapped into place, Jeongin’s elbow slotting against your ribs just as Hyunjin’s shoulder bumped yours from the other side. You could feel Chan’s breath hot on the back of your neck as he leaned in, the nine of you coiled tight like a spring. The choreographer’s pencil hovered over her clipboard, but her eyes were bright. This was it.
"That was perfect," the choreographer smiled, her pencil finally scratching against the clipboard, not corrections, just a quick underline beneath whatever note she'd scribbled earlier.
Her approval hung in the air like confetti, and you could practically feel the collective relief through the group. Even Jeongin, who'd been moments away from melting into the floor, straightened up with a sudden burst of energy, his grin splitting his face. "Does this mean we can actually break now?" he whispered, poking your side.
You opened your mouth to reply, but Hyunjin was already slinging an arm around both your shoulders, his weight dragging you sideways until the three of you stumbled into a giggling heap.
"Break? No, no—now we celebrate," he declared, shaking you lightly like a maraca. His shirt was damp where it pressed against your cheek, smelling faintly of fabric softener and the citrusy tang of his deodorant.
"Dinner is on Chan," Seungmin announced, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
The words barely left his mouth before the room erupted, Jeongin whooped and immediately started listing off expensive cuts of beef, Felix fake-swooned against Changbin's shoulder, and Hyunjin clapped Chan on the back hard enough to make him cough mid-sip of water.
Chan blinked, water dripping down his chin. "Wait, since when—?"
"We love you, Mr. Leader," you chimed in, grinning as you pressed your forehead against Chan's shoulder, partly to tease him, partly because your legs were seconds away from giving out. The room erupted into fresh laughter when Chan sputtered, water droplets flying as he shook his head like a disoriented puppy.
"Yah! You're all conspiring against me!" he protested, but the way his ears turned pink betrayed how much he secretly loved it.
Jisung seized the moment of distraction to dart behind Chan and leap onto his back with the grace of a hyperactive koala, locking his legs around Chan's waist.
“Piggyback to the restaurant or we riot," he announced, digging his chin into Chan's shoulder for emphasis. Chan staggered under the sudden weight, but his arms automatically hooked under his knees out of pure muscle memory, years of this exact scenario had trained him well.
"You're all menaces," he groaned, but the way his shoulders shook with laughter ruined the effect entirely.
The scramble for shower priority dissolved into the usual chaos the second the choreographer dismissed you, Jeongin immediately launched into his best impression of an Olympic sprinter, only for Hyunjin to hook an ankle around his calf and send him stumbling sideways into Felix's outstretched arms.
"No cheating," Hyunjin tutted, already shaking his hair out of its ponytail as he sauntered toward the exit, the very picture of nonchalance if not for the way his shoulders twitched with suppressed laughter.
You ducked under Changbin's half-hearted attempt at a headlock and made a break for it, your dance shoes skidding against the polished floor as you rounded the corner toward the showers. Behind you, Chan's long-suffering sigh echoed down the hallway, somewhere between exasperation and fondness.
The shower stalls became a battlefield of elbows and half-hearted shoving, steam curling around bare shoulders as everyone jostled for position under the spray.
You wedged yourself between Seungmin and Felix, who were engaged in a silent, standoff over the last bottle of shampoo.
“Sharing is caring," you chirped, plucking it from Felix's grip and squeezing a dollop into Seungmin's palm before he could protest. Felix's betrayed gasp was drowned out by Jeongin's yelp from the next stall, Hyunjin had apparently "accidentally" redirected his showerhead spray directly into Jeongin's face.
Jeongin emerged from the shower stall first, his hair a dripping mess from Hyunjin's sabotage. He flicked water droplets at Hyunjin's retreating back, only for Seungmin to intercept with a towel thrown directly at his face. "Dry off before you catch a cold,"
Seungmin said, though the way he ruffled Jeongin's hair afterward softened the scolding.
You stumbled out last, still half-blind from shampoo, and nearly tripped over Felix's discarded flip-flops.
He caught you by the elbow with a laugh, his fingers warm against your skin. "Slow down, sunshine," he teased, and you stuck your tongue out at him, though the nickname made your cheeks warm.
The hallway outside the practice room was quiet compared to the shower chaos, the fluorescent lights humming overhead as the nine of you regrouped.
Chan was already scrolling through his phone, likely searching for a restaurant that could accommodate everyones ravenous appetites, while Changbin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, pretending he wasn't eavesdropping on Jeongin's dramatic retelling of Hyunjin's "war crimes" in the shower.
Jisung, ever the instigator, kept nodding solemnly and adding, "Unforgivable," at all the right moments, which only fueled Jeongin's theatrics.
"Did you choose a restaurant yet, hyung?" you asked, rubbing your hair with a towel before flipping a cap onto your damp head. Chan didn't even glance up from his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scrolled.
"Somewhere with meat," Changbin declared, materializing over Chan's shoulder like a hungry ghost. "Lots of it. Preferably still mooing."
You giggled and then slumped sideways against Changbin's shoulder, letting your full weight press into him until he grunted and instinctively braced against Chan who staggered half a step before planting his feet with a leader's stubbornness.
"Tsk what am I, a leaning post?" Changbin complained, but his arm automatically curled around your waist to keep you from sliding to the floor. Chan's phone screen glowed in the dim hallway light, his thumb scrolling past endless restaurant options with increasing desperation.
You squinted at the blur of text and reached over, tapping one listing with a triumphant hum. "There! The beef place near Han River, they do that marinated galbi you like, hyung," you said, chin hooking over Changbin's shoulder to peer at the screen.
Chan's eyebrows shot up. "How do you even remember—?"
"I've got a great memory, what can I say?" you smirked, snatching Chan's phone before he could protest and jabbing the reserve button.
Chan made a half-hearted grab for his phone, but you'd already pivoted on your heel, tossing it over your shoulder to Felix, who caught it. "Table for nine in twenty minutes," Felix announced, scrolling through the reservation details before tossing it to Seungmin in a perfect throw.
Chan groaned, rubbing his temples as his phone made its way across the group via increasingly elaborate passes, Hyunjin passed it to Jeongin, who passed it toward Changbin, accidentally throwing it too far making Minho step back and Chan having to re catch it.
"You're all going to pay for my therapy bills," Chan muttered then laughed.
"The cab's almost here," Minho announced, already halfway down the stairs with the effortless glide of someone who'd perfected the art of escaping group chaos. His voice carried that particular brand of casual authority that made everyone pause mid-shenanigan.
Felix's oversized hoodie swallowed him whole, the sleeves flopping past his fingertips as he wrestled with the vending machine buttons.
You watched from the lobby bench, knees tucked under the hem of your own borrowed sweats, Changbin's.
Felix cursed under his breath at the machine's refusal to accept his crumpled bill. "It's discriminating against Australians," he announced sadly, and you snorted into the collar of your hoodie, which smelled faintly of Jisung's fabric softener and something indefinably him.
Jeongin emerged from the stairwell looking like a college student who'd pulled three all-nighters, ratty sneakers, joggers with a suspicious ketchup stain near the ankle, and a beanie pulled so low it nearly swallowed his eyebrows.
“Fashion icon," you deadpanned, and he flipped you off with a grin before plopping onto the bench beside you, his knee bouncing against yours. "Says the person wearing Changbin-hyung's entire wardrobe," he shot back, tugging at your sleeve where it pooled in your lap. You stuck your tongue out just as Felix finally triumphed over the vending machine with a happy yell, sending two energy drinks clattering into the tray.
The cab ride was a tangle of limbs and laughter, with Jisung wedged halfway onto Minho’s lap. You ended up crushed against the window, Felix's elbow digging into your ribs every time the cab hit a bump, but no one complained. Not when the night air was thick with the promise of sizzling meat and Chan's wallet.
The hostess blinked twice at Chan's disheveled hair, still damp from the shower chaos, before glancing down at her tablet with practiced professionalism.
“Ah, yes. Table for nine by the window?"
The table was a tight fit, nine chairs crammed around a circular grill meant for six, but you all folded yourselves into the seats with the practiced ease of people who'd shared tighter spaces.
Felix ended up half in your lap because Hyunjin had stolen his booth seat and Changbin's knee kept knocking against yours under the table, but no one minded. The scent of sizzling beef already hung in the air from neighboring tables, making everyone's stomachs growl in unison.
"Order whatever you want," Chan said, eyes still glued to the meat selection.
"Channie-hyung, we should get wagyu," you said, smiling sweetly across the table while tapping the menu's most expensive cut with innocence.
The way Chan's eyes widened panic and resignation warring across his face sent Jeongin into a fit of giggles that he smothered into Felix's shoulder.
Hyunjin leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped in his hands. "Oh? Our precious leader would want to treat us to the finest, wouldn't he?" His tone dripped with exaggeration, and Changbin choked on his water trying not to laugh.
Chan giggled a sudden, breathless sound before nodding so vigorously his damp hair flopped into his eyes. "Yes, yes, get whatever you want, kids," he conceded, waving a hand like he was shooing pigeons.
You watched, grinning, as Chan's smile wavered between genuine affection and the dawning horror of a man watching his bank account break in real time. His fingers twitched toward his wallet like it might spontaneously combust, but then Felix bumped their shoulders together and murmured something that made Chan's face soften instantly, some secret Australian-English hybrid comfort that no one else could decipher.
The first platter hit the table with a weighty thud, marbled slices of wagyu arranged like flower petals, the fat glistening under the restaurant's amber lights.
Jeongin inhaled sharply through his nose, eyes widening as if he'd just witnessed a miracle. "Holy shit," he breathed, fingers already twitching toward the grill, but Hyunjin smacked his wrist away with a chopstick. "Patience, child," he intoned, though his own gaze kept flicking to the meat like it might vanish.
Then came the drinks, frosted bottles of soju clinking against each other in their wire basket. Felix immediately snatched one up, twisting the cap off with his teeth in a move that made Seungmin grimace. "Barbarian," Seungmin muttered, accepting the bottle.
The grill hissed as Minho flipped the first slice of wagyu with surgical precision, the edges curling into perfect caramelisation.
He caught your eye across the table, where you were wedged between Felix and Changbin and smirked. "Here," he said, chopsticks darting forward to deposit it directly onto your plate before anyone could protest. "For our cutest member." The meat still sizzled, juices pooling into the rice beneath it.
The chopsticks froze halfway to your mouth with kimchi as eight pairs of eyes instantly snapped toward your plate.
“Yah!" Hyunjin gasped, pointing an accusing finger at Minho’s smug face. "Favoritism! Absolute favoritism!" The table erupted into squawks.
Eight hands descended on you at once, Hyunjin pinching your cheeks with exaggeration while Jeongin flopped across your lap like a boneless octopus.
"Our precious maknae," Seungmin deadpanned, but his fingers were already ruffling your hair with surprising gentleness, the way one might pet a puppy. Felix made an exaggerated cooing noise directly into your ear, his breath warm against your temple as he draped himself over your shoulders. "Who's the cutest? Who's the cutest?" he chanted, shaking you lightly.
"Stop—ack—I can't breathe!" you wheezed, the laughter spilling out. Changbin took advantage of your pinned state to poke your side mercilessly, his grin widening when you squirmed. "This is assault," you gasped, but the your nose scrunched when Chan leaned in to poke your cheek.
Soju bottles clinked like wind chimes, caps spinning across the table as Felix, insisted on opening each one with his teeth. Seungmin watched with the horrified fascination of a man witnessing a train wreck in slow motion.
“You’re going to chip a tooth,” he muttered, even as he accepted the bottle Felix passed him, condensation dripping onto his sleeves. “Worth it,” Felix grinned.
The first shot burned down your throat leaving behind a warmth that pooled in your stomach and spread outward to your fingertips.
The third shot slid down smoother, leaving your lips tingling and your thoughts pleasantly fuzzy at the edges. You slumped against Felix’s shoulder, his laughter vibrating through your temple as he played gently with your hair.
Minho’s chopsticks darted forward again, depositing another glistening slice of wagyu onto your plate. It was the most perfectly caramelized piece, edges crisped to golden perfection.
"Eat," he said, voice low, but his eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that betrayed his amusement at the chaos he'd just reignited.
Changbin gasped like he'd been personally betrayed, clutching his chest as he swiveled toward Chan. "Hyung! Are you seeing this? He’s only nice to them!" he demanded, pointing accusingly at your plate.
Chan, mid-sip of soju, choked slightly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, lips twitching. "I see nothing," he declared solemnly, though his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
The soju bottle glinted under the restaurant lights as you tipped it carefully, pouring Minho’s shot first, a silent thank you for the wagyu now melting on your tongue. The liquid pooled in his glass barely a millimeter from the rim but never spilling.
“For my favorite hyung," you teased, sliding it toward him with both hands in exaggeration. His eyebrow arched, but his fingers brushed yours as he took it, a fleeting, deliberate contact that made Changbin groan into his hands.
"Disgusting," Hyunjin announced, draping himself dramatically across Felix's lap. "Absolute favoritism. I demand equal soju treatment."
You rolled your eyes but obliged, pouring his shot with equal precision before flicking a drop at his nose. He gasped like you'd stabbed him.
"Yah, I was joking—I love you all equally!" you declared, waving your hands in mock surrender as the table erupted into fresh laughter. Jeongin, draped across your lap like a starfish, pinched your thigh hard enough to make you yelp.
"Liar," he sing-songed, poking your cheek with his chopstick. "You literally fed Lee Know-hyung first."
The last shot glass clicked into place just as Felix's knee bumped the table, sending ripples across the surface of your poured soju. "Oops," he grinned, not sounding sorry at all. You raised your own glass with exaggerated ceremony. "To—" you began, but Jeongin cut in immediately, sloshing his drink as he lunged forward. "To Chan-hyung's wallet!"
Glasses clinked in chaotic unison. Chan's laughter bubbled over as he shook his head, droplets of soju escaping his glass to land on the grill with tiny sizzles.
"To bankruptcy," he corrected, but drank anyway, the line of his throat working as he swallowed.
The grill hissed as another slab of wagyu hit the hot metal, sending up a plume of fragrant smoke that curled around Jeongin's eager face like an offering to the gods. He poked at it impatiently with his chopsticks, earning a swift smack from Seungmin. "Let it cook, you heathen," Seungmin muttered, though his own fingers twitched toward the platter where the next round of raw meat waited.
You leaned across Felix's shoulder, he didn't even react anymore, just adjusted his arm around your shoulders like you were part of the furniture, to snag the last piece of kimchi from the shared plate. Hyunjin's indignant squawk was drowned out by Changbin's laughter as you popped it into your mouth with a triumphant grin. "Sorry, hyung," you said around the mouthful, not sorry at all, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's.
Chan sighed, but it was the long-suffering sigh of a man who'd long since accepted his fate, and he wordlessly flagged down a waiter for another round of side dishes.
The fourth shot hit harder than Felix’s elbow digging into your ribs, which was saying something, considering he’d just "accidentally" jabbed you while reaching for more sauce. The warmth spread through your chest loosening your limbs until you slumped sideways into Changbin’s shoulder with a giggle. Changbin didn’t even pretend to shrug you off, just adjusted his arm around your waist. "You’re heavy," he mumbled into your hair, but his fingers tapped an absent rhythm against your hipbone, matching the beat of the restaurant’s background music.
Across the table, Hyunjin had transformed into an octopus, arms wrapped around Felix from behind, chin hooked over his shoulder as he attempted to feed him kimchi with shaky chopsticks. Felix, ever the obliging drunk, opened his mouth obediently, only to recoil when Hyunjin missed entirely and poked his nose instead. "ah," Felix whined, swatting at him, but Hyunjin just nuzzled into his neck with a slurred, "Sorry, baby,"
Bang Chan's chopsticks darted across the table with precision, considering the three shots already warming his system and deposited a perfectly seared slice of galbi onto your tongue before you could protest. The meat melted in your mouth, rich and smoky, and you blinked up at him with exaggerated awe, cheeks puffing out as you chewed slowly. "Hyung," you mumbled around the mouthful, clutching your chest like you'd been bestowed some sacred gift. "Is this... love?"
Chan's ears flushed pink instantly, his nose scrunching as he tried(and failed) to suppress a grin.
"Pshh," he muttered, flicking your forehead lightly, but his fingers lingered to brush a stray of hair from your cheekbone.
Behind him, Seungmin smirked so hard it was audible, but his hands were already moving with robotic efficiency, pouring the next round of soju shots.
The tenth shot glass hovered in midair between all nine of you. Felix's pinky finger hooked around yours under the table, his skin warm and slightly sticky from spilled soju, and when you glanced sideways, he winked with the exaggerated slowness of someone three drinks past subtlety.
The world tilted pleasantly as Jeongin's forehead bumped against you, his giggles vibrating through you. His breath smelled faintly of grilled meat and soju, warm against your cheek as he mumbled something incomprehensible into your shoulder.
Behind him, Felix had somehow ended up half-sprawled across Seungmin's lap, an impressive feat considering Seungmin's notorious personal space bubble, his fingers tangled in the hem of Changbin's sleeve like he'd forgotten how hands worked.
"You're all," Hyunjin announced solemnly from where he'd draped himself over Chan's back, “so... squishy." He mumbled again by poking Chan's cheek with enough force to make a dimple appear, then dissolved into giggles so violent he nearly toppled fully onto Chan.
The seating arrangement dissolved into chaos the moment conversation shifted from Hyunjin’s disastrous mukbang audition stories to Seungmin’s recounting of Changbin’s legendary "lost in a convenience store" incident.
Felix shuffled himself across the table, displacing Jeongin who rolled with it, literally, tumbling into your lap with a dramatic groan as if he’d been shot. "This is my grave," he announced, limbs splayed, while you absently patted his head.
Hyunjin seized the vacated seat beside Chan only to abandon it thirty seconds later when Minho mentioned barbecue sauces, scrambling over Changbin’s knees to wedge himself between Felix and Seungmin.
"Important debate," he insisted, elbow-deep in Felix’s hoodie pocket searching for his phone to fact check spice levels. The table rippled with the movement, Jisung slid sideways into the gap Hyunjin left, his knee knocking against yours under the table with a familiarity that made your ribs ache from suppressed laughter.
Jisung's shoulder pressed warmly against yours as he leaned in, his breath tickling your ear with the faintest hint of soju and barbecue sauce. "Remember," he started, "that time you tried to teach Felix how to ride a bike?" His grin widened when you groaned, burying your face in your hands as the memory resurfaced with embarrassing clarity.
You peeked through your fingers to see Felix already perking up across the table, his cheeks flushed from alcohol and laughter. "Oh my god," he gasped, pointing at you with a chopstick. "You promised you'd never bring that up again!"
You and Jisung dissolved into giggles, your shoulders knocking together, "Y-you promised," Felix whined again, but the way his voice cracked midway sent Jisung wheezing against your collarbone.
"You—" Jisung gasped, wiping tears from his eyes with one hand while the other gripped your thigh for balance, "—you literally pushed him into a hedge!"
The night spiraled from there, stories traded across the grill, each more outrageous than the last. Chan, usually the responsible one, slumped lower in his seat with each shot, until his head lolled onto Hyunjin's shoulder during Seungmin's eerily accurate impression of Minho's "disappointed cat" face. Minho himself remained unfazed, flipping meat with one hand while using the other to poke Chan's slack jaw shut. "You're drooling, leader," he murmured, earning a drowsy swat from Chan that missed by miles.
Minho laughed, soft and private, the kind of sound that slipped out before he could make his face back to neutrality as Chan cooed at him."Mmmmyongie," Chan breathed, the nickname mangled beyond recognition, his fingers clumsily patting Minho's thigh as if checking he was still real. "Best hyung."
Minho's nose wrinkled, but he didn't shrug Chan off. Instead, he adjusted his grip on the grill tongs to flick a perfectly seared slice of galbi onto Chan's neglected plate. "Flattery gets you nowhere," he said, deadpan, but the corner of his mouth twitched when Chan made a wounded noise and nuzzled harder against his bicep.
The fifteenth shot glass gleamed under the restaurant’s dim lighting, it sloshing cautiously as Jeongin attempted to pass it to Felix with all the coordination of a newborn giraffe. The table had long since devolved into a tangle of limbs, Hyunjin was practically fused to Chan’s side, his fingers kneading the leader’s shoulder like dough, while Changbin had given up all knowledge of personal space and slumped bonelessly against Seungmin, who bore the weight.
Felix latched onto the glass with both hands, his fingers overlapping yours where you’d reached out to steady it. "No spillies," he mumbled, brow furrowed with intense concentration, before promptly tilting sideways into your chest like a felled tree. The soju sloshed dangerously but didn’t spill, a miracle considering Jisung chose that exact moment to sneeze violently into Minho’s shoulder, sending a ripple of movement through the entire table.
"We should go home," someone mumbled—probably Changbin, judging by the way his words slurred into Seungmin's collarbone where his face was currently mashed. The statement hung in the air like a challenge, met with immediate protest from Jeongin, who flung himself backward dramatically, nearly toppling out of his chair. "Nooo," he whined, fingers clutching the table edge for balance, "The night is young! And so am I!"
Minho snorted into his soju glass, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched Jeongin's flailing limbs narrowly avoid smacking Felix in the face.
“Debatable," he muttered, but the fondness in his tone undercut the sarcasm. Chan, who had somehow migrated onto Hyunjin's lap during the last round of storytelling, blinked owlishly at the group before nodding. "Minho's right," he announced, then frowned. "Wait. About what?"
You giggled into Seungmin’s shoulder, the sound muffled against his sleeve as Chan motioned over the waiter with the kind of exaggerated hand gesture usually reserved for directing air traffic.
"The—uh—" Chan squinted at the table, as if suddenly realizing none of them had actually seen the bill yet. "Thing. The paper with numbers. Please."
The waiter, a stoic man who'd clearly served rowdier groups than theirs, appeared with the leather folder before Chan could embarrass himself further. Chan accepted it with both hands like receiving a sacred text.
The momentary silence stretched just long enough for Jeongin to lean across the grill, smoke curling around his curious face. "How bad is it?" he whispered.
Chan's lips curled into a slow, lazy grin as he slid the sleek black card from his wallet effortlessly, someone who'd accepted their financial doom hours ago. "Hyung," Jeongin breathed, eyes comically wide, "that's the adult card." Chan winked and tossed the card onto the bill tray.
The night air hit like a slap of cold water,if cold water smelled faintly of grilled meat and soju.
You stumbled out of the restaurant in a tangle of limbs, Jeongin's fingers hooked through your belt loops from behind while Felix clung to your arm like a koala, his laughter vibrating against your shoulder. Behind you, Chan was attempting to shepherd the group with all the coordination of a concussed penguin, his hands fluttering uselessly as Hyunjin and Jisung veered dangerously close to a streetlamp.
"Stay together,” Chan slurred, grabbing at Seungmin's sleeve like a lost child in a grocery store. Seungmin, miraculously upright, merely sighed and hooked an arm around Chan's waist, steering him away from an oncoming bicycle.
Minho emerged last, tossing the restaurant's complimentary mints into the air one by one and catching them in his mouth with unsettling accuracy.
Changbin, slumped against a bus stop sign, watched this display with the awed horror of a man witnessing witchcraft.
"How..," he breathed, as Minho landed the final mint with a crisp snap of teeth. Minho smirked, dusting invisible lint off his sleeves. "Talent."
The cold night air stung your cheeks as you paused beneath a flickering streetlamp, watching the chaotic way of your friends scattering across the sidewalk. Felix was attempting to piggyback Jeongin, both of them going sideways.
Hyunjin had draped himself over Seungmin's shoulders, fingers plucking at the his ears while Chan wobbled behind them, giggling at nothing. The scene should've been absurd, eight overgrown idols stumbling through Seoul's backstreets at 2AM but something warm and heavy settled in your chest as you watched Minho catch Changbin by the hood before he could walk into a trash can.
Your fingers closed around Chan's wrist mid-flail, just as he was attempting (and failing) to shepherd Hyunjin away from an overly enthusiastic pigeon and something in his posture instantly deflated.
His arm went slack in your grip without protest. "Mm?" Chan blinked down at you, his free hand hovering near your shoulder like he couldn't decide whether to pat you or steady himself. His cheeks were flushed pink from soju, his usually perfect hair sticking up in three different directions from Jeongin's earlier attempts to "fix it."
Without thinking, you tugged just a gentle pull, really and Chan folded like a house of cards. His forehead thunked against your crown with a soft exhale, his entire body slumping forward until his weight pressed warm and solid against your back.
“Oof," you huffed, staggering slightly under the sudden addition of 170+ cm of drunken man, but Chan just nuzzled deeper into your hair with a content sigh. "Hyung, you're heavy," you complained, but your fingers tightened around his wrist anyway, anchoring him there.
"Okay you seven, pose," you giggled, wobbling slightly as you fished your phone from your hoodie pocket. The screen blurred momentarily in your vision,too many shots, too much laughter, before you managed to tap the camera icon.
The camera flashed, capturing chaos in its purest form.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
Pairing: Bangchan x Hyunjin x afab!reader
Genre: smut smut smut no minors pls! (Includes threesome,fingering, unprotected sex, smoking + mentions of weed)🔞
Wc: 4.4k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: I saw this the other day on threads and my brain sparked, obviously credit to the user but yeah i used it as inspo for this fic, current fav duo to write (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The fire escape groaned under Bangchan's boots, the rusted metal creaking every step as he hauled himself up the last few steps. His black nail polish was chipped more than usual. He exhaled sharply, shaking his damp bangs out of his eyes before hoisting himself onto the rooftop with a grunt.
Hyunjin was already there, lounging against an old AC unit like it was a throne, one leg bent, the other stretched out lazily.
His silver rings glinted as he tapped ash from his blunt onto the cracked concrete.
"Took you long enough," he said without looking up, though the corner of his mouth twitched. The city hummed below them, neon bleeding into the wet pavement, distant car horns weaving through the bassline of some half-remembered song drifting from Hyunjin's phone.
Bangchan snorted, kicking Hyunjin’s outstretched leg lightly as he dropped onto the sun-warmed concrete beside him. The rooftop still smelled like wet asphalt and cigarettes, the storm having left everything slick and glinting under the flickering streetlights below.
He stretched his legs out, the holes in his jeans gaping wider at the knees, and leaned back on his palms
"You try climbing that death trap with a bag of snacks," he muttered, pulling a crumpled paper bag from his hoodie pocket and tossed it on the floor. The scent of sweets spilled into the air, mixing with the earthy tang of weed.
Hyunjin’s eyes lit up, literally, the reflection of some neon sign catching in his pupils as he lunged for the bag.
"You beautiful dickhead," he said around a mouthful of gummies. He held the blunt out to Bangchan between his long fingers. The music shifted then, something with a heavier bassline, and Hyunjin’s free hand started tapping arrhythmically against his thigh, his rings clicking against the chains on his jeans.
You walked over quietly and sat in between the two boys comfortably.
Hyunjin’s shoulder bumped against yours as he leaned in, the weight of his head settling against your temple with the casual intimacy of someone who’d done it a thousand times before.
His hair smelled like vanilla shampoo and the lingering ghost of rain, strands of it tickling your cheek as he held up a gummy between his fingers.
“Open up,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, the kind of tone that made your stomach do something stupid. You rolled your eyes but obeyed, letting him drop the sweet onto your tongue, his fingertips brushing your lower lip for a fraction of a second too long.
The gummy was sticky, sweet, artificial strawberry bursting across your taste buds as you chewed. Hyunjin watched you with half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up when you made a face at the intensity of the flavor. “Too much?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. You grunted in response, and he laughed, the sound warm and familiar, vibrating through where his body pressed against yours.
"You're quieter today y/n," Bangchan mumbled around the blunt, smoke curling from his lips as he stared out at the city skyline. He didn’t turn to look at you, just exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear into the humid air.
Hyunjin shifted beside you, His knee bumped yours, deliberate. "Yeah," he drawled, popping another gummy into his mouth. "Usually you're the one yapping about some deep shit by now." His tone was light, but his fingers lingered near your wrist, tracing idle circles on the inside of your forearm like he was trying to coax the words out of you.
You laugh out shaking your head. “I’m fine you dorks.”
You couldn’t stop thinking about what a threesome would be like with them as embarrassing as it was. The gummy suddenly felt too thick in your throat. You swallowed hard, fingers tapping restlessly against your own thigh, mimicking Hyunjin’s earlier rhythm but without the confidence, without the ease. The memory of last night kept replaying in your head, Hyunjin’s elbow nudging yours as he grinned, all sharp canines and glittering eyes,
“What if we just—y’know. Had a threesome.” And Bangchan had smirked, actually smirked, like the idea was a shared secret instead of a joke, like he’d imagined it before.
Hyunjin’s fingers were still tracing circles on your wrist, his touch feather-light but burning. You wondered if he could feel your pulse jumping under your skin.
“Bullshit," Bangchan chuckled, finishing the blunt with one last drag before flicking the stub over the rooftop’s edge. He turned to face you fully, his knee bumping against yours as he shifted, the worn fabric of his jeans catching on the concrete. The neon from the various sign across the street painted his face in shifting hues of violet, making his piercings even prettier when he tilted his head.
"You’ve been zoning out since you got up here. And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ shit—you only chew your lip like that when you’re thinking too hard."
Hyunjin snorted, stretching his legs out further until his scuffed boots nudged your ankle. "Yeah, and you’ve been staring at Chan’s lips for the last five minutes like you’re trying to solve an equation."
The teasing lilt in his voice should’ve been annoying, but the way his fingers were still tracing absent, burning circles on your wrist betrayed his casual act.
The silence stretched between you layered with something unspoken. Bangchan’s knee stayed pressed against yours, warm even through the fabric of his jeans, and Hyunjin’s fingers had stilled on your wrist, his thumb resting right over your pulse point. You could feel it hammering beneath your skin, a traitorous, fluttering thing.
“Okay,” Bangchan said finally, voice low and measured, like he was carefully choosing each word. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the silver chain around his neck swinging slightly. The city lights caught the angles of his face, throwing shadows under his eyes.
“Let’s say—hypothetically..Hyunjin wasn’t joking last night.” He paused, and you could see his throat work as he swallowed. “What then?”
"Why do you two keep bringing it up?" you say, swallowing hard. Your voice came out quieter than you intended, nearly lost under the hum of the city and the muffled bass still pulsing from Hyunjin’s phone.
Hyunjin smirked, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over your cheek
"Because it could be interestinggg," he murmured, dragging the last word out like he was savoring it. His fingers stopped tracing circles on your wrist, instead sliding down to intertwine with yours, his rings cold against your skin.
The space between you evaporated like smoke too fast. Hyunjin’s knee slotted against yours as he leaned in, his grip on your hand tightening just enough to make your pulse stutter. His breath hitched when Bangchan mirrored him on your other side, the heat of his thigh pressing flush against yours.
Hyunjin’s smirk faltered for a half-second, his eyes darting to Bangchan over your shoulder, some silent question passing between them.
Bangchan exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching where they rested on his knee, before he reached out slowly, deliberately, and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
Hyunjin's smirk was all teeth, the neon glow catching the silver of his tongue piercing as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.
"Which one of us do you like more, my love?" he hummed, voice dripping with playful arrogance, but his fingers trembled slightly where they intertwined with yours. The question hung in the air like the last of smoke from Bangchan's discarded blunt, thick with implication.
Bangchan didn’t move from your other side, but you felt the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed under his shirt, the way his knee pressed harder against yours.
He didn’t speak, just watched you with those dark, liquid eyes. His silence was louder than Hyunjin’s teasing, heavier.
Hyunjin continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.
"I'm not as rough as Chan," he murmured into your ear,
"But I can be... thorough." The last word curled around you as you felt the weight of Bangchan's gaze on the side of your face, heavy and unreadable.
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. Hyunjin’s lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke again, softer this time. "Unless you want rough." His teeth grazed your earlobe, just a hint of pressure, enough to make your breath hitch, before he pulled back slightly, his smirk returning full force. His eyes flicked to Bangchan again, something unspoken passing between them, a challenge or a plea, you couldn’t tell.
The moment Hyunjin’s lips met yours, the city noise faded into static, nothing but the wet sound of his mouth moving against yours, the faint click of his tongue piercing against your teeth.
His grip on your hand tightened, his rings digging into your skin just enough to leave light indents. You gasped when Bangchan’s fingers slid up your thigh, his touch slow and calculated like he was mapping you out.
Hyunjin smirked into the kiss, pulling back just enough to murmur, "Told you it'd be interesting," before diving back in with more urgency.
His free hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to the cool air.
Bangchan’s fingers reached the edge of your shorts, his thumb tracing circles on the sensitive skin there. You shuddered, biting down on Hyunjin’s lower lip in retaliation, and he groaned, a low, broken sound that vibrated through your chest.
The fabric caught for a heartbeat on your hips before leaving, sliding down your thighs in a slow drag that left your skin prickling in the humid air.
"Fuckin' finally," Hyunjin muttered, pulling back just enough to watch Bangchan’s hands work, his smirk widening when your breath hitched. His thumb swiped over your lower lip, smearing the wetness there.
Bangchan didn’t rush. He never did. His movements were measured, almost lazy, as he eased the fabric down past your knees, his calloused palms skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He traced the arch of you with his fingertips, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "Pretty," he murmured, the word rough around the edges, like it had been waiting too long in his throat.
"Ah—fuck, this can't be happening," you mumbled, the words dissolving into a gasp as Hyunjin’s teeth scraped the tender skin below your ear. His lips were hot, relentless, mapping a trail of bruises down your neck like he was claiming territory.
You arched into him without meaning to, your back pressing against Bangchan’s chest, the hard lines of his body bracketing you from behind. His breath hitched when your head laid back against his shoulder, his fingers tightening on your hips.
Hyunjin chuckled against your throat, the vibration humming through your skin. "Too late," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the last of your shorts down past your knees, the fabric pooling around your ankles like a discarded thought. His rings were cold where they brushed your inner thighs, a stark contrast to the heat of his palms as they spread you wider, his thumbs tracing lazy circles just shy of where you needed him. "You’re already fucked, sweetheart."
Bangchan’s fingers traced the damp lace of your thong through your tights, the chill of his same rings pressing into your hot skin.
You moaned quietly, the sound barely escaping your lips before Hyunjin swallowed it with another searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with possessive intent. The rough pads of Bangchan’s fingertips dragged higher, hooking into the waistband of your tights, and the elastic snapped against your hip with a quiet thwip that made you jerk.
“Fuck—Chan,” you gasped, breaking away from Hyunjin’s mouth, your head falling back against Bangchan’s shoulder. His breath hit your throat, uneven and hot, as he peeled the fabric down inch by torturous inch, the cool night air kissing the newly exposed skin. Hyunjin watched with heavy-lidded eyes, his teeth biting down on his lower lip.
Hyunjin’s smirk was wicked as he glanced over your shoulder at Bangchan, some silent communication passing between them in the half second before Hyunjin ducked his head to your collarbone, his teeth scraping the thin skin there. You gasped, arching into the sensation just as Bangchan’s fingers finally slipped beneath your soaked underwear, his calloused fingertips dragging through your folds with agonizing slowness.
"Fuck," Hyunjin muttered against your throat, his breath hot as he palmed your breast over your shirt, his thumb circling your nipple through the fabric. The rough pad of his thumb pressed just hard enough to make you whimper.
"Look at you, so fucking responsive." His other hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, shoving it up until the cool air hit your stomach, his mouth following the exposed skin with hungry kisses.
Bangchan’s fingers curled inside you without warning, his palm pressing firmly against your clit as he worked you open with slow, deliberate strokes. The stretch burned just enough to make your thighs tremble, your hips jerking involuntarily against his hand. He exhaled sharply against the back of your neck, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he added a second finger, the drag of his knuckles against your inner walls making your vision blur at the edges.
Hyunjin’s mouth closed over your nipple, the wet heat of his tongue licking as his free hand fumbled with the other breast. His groan vibrated against your skin when he finally got his mouth on the bare flesh, his teeth scraping lightly before he sucked hard enough to make your back bow.
"God, you taste good," he mumbled against your breast, his fingers pinching your other nipple just shy of too hard.
The moment Hyunjin pulled back from your chest, his lips glistening and swollen, Bangchan’s fingers stilled inside you, a silent, mutual understanding passing between them in the space of a heartbeat.
Hyunjin’s smirk was sly as he flicked his perfect hair back and turned to face Bangchan fully, their knees bumping awkwardly around your sprawled legs.
“Who’s better? his fingers or my mouth?” Hyunjin taunted, voice rough with want, his fingers still toying lazily with your nipple as he leaned in.
Bangchan didn’t reply, just curled his fingers deeper inside you, wrenching a broken gasp from your throat, before withdrawing completely. His wet fingers glistened under the neon lights as he reached out, tangling them in Hyunjin’s hair and yanking him forward with a force that made your stomach flip. Their mouths crashed together, messy and uncoordinated at first, Hyunjin’s teeth catching Bangchan’s lower lip, Bangchan’s growl vibrating through the kiss as he bit down in retaliation.
You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, watching Bangchan yank Hyunjin closer by the hair, the wet sound of their kiss was brutal with their tongues sliding, teeth clashing and Hyunjin's silver piercing clicking against Bangchan's canines. A bead of spit trailed down Hyunjin's chin when they broke apart, his chest heaving as Bangchan licked into his mouth again, deeper this time, his free hand gripping Hyunjin's jaw hard enough to leave fingerprints.
Hyunjin gasped into the kiss, his fingers scrabbling at Bangchan's shirt, nails catching on the fabric as he pulled him closer. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, the hard line of his erection pressing against Bangchan's thigh through his jeans, and Bangchan groaned low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through you where you sat trapped between them.
"What a pretty day to spend fucking my two favorite people," Bangchan murmured, his voice rough with want as he yanked his band tee over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric caught briefly on his silver eyebrow ring before it joined the growing pile of clothes beside the AC unit. His abs were painted in dim neon lights, the shadows between his abs deepening as he reached for his belt buckle with trembling fingers.
Hyunjin didn't hesitate, just kicked off his scuffed boots and peeled his thin shirt off with a practiced twist of his shoulders. His collarbones glistened under the city's glow, the silver chains around his neck swinging as he leaned in to bite at Bangchan's shoulder.
"Took you long enough to admit it," he teased, his breath hot against Bangchan's skin as his fingers worked the button of Bangchan's jeans.
The buckle of Bangchan’s belt clattered against the concrete as Hyunjin yanked it free. Bangchan exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tightening in Hyunjin’s hair as the other boy dropped to his knees in front of him, his smirk never wavering even as his knees hit the rough rooftop.
You watched, transfixed, as Hyunjin nuzzled the bulge in Bangchan’s boxers, his lips brushing the fabric with deliberate slowness. His tongue darted out, tracing the outline of him through the thin cotton, and Bangchan’s hips jerked forward with a choked-off groan. Hyunjin chuckled, low and throaty, before hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging everything down in one smooth motion.
Hyunjin leaned back on his palms, the jagged concrete scraping his wrists as he arched his spine slightly, just enough to give you room to crawl between his spread legs.
His breath hitched when your fingers brushed the inside of his thigh, his hips jerking involuntarily as you moved closer. The worn fabric of his boxers strained against his erection, the damp spot at the tip already visible.
"You're so fucking pretty," he muttered, his voice rough as you nuzzled the length of him through the thin cotton. His thighs trembled when you exhaled against the heat of him, your breath seeping through the fabric. One of his hands left the rooftop to tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding, like he needed the anchor.
Your fingers trembled against the elastic waistband of Hyunjin’s boxers, just a fraction, just enough to make him notice.
His breath caught when you hooked your thumbs into the fabric, his hips lifting instinctively to help you slide them down. The air between you crackled with anticipation as you leaned forward, pushing your ass up and arching your back in one fluid motion, the movement deliberate and slow.
The rough concrete scraped your knees through the ripped fabric of your tights, but the sting barely registered, not when Hyunjin’s cock sprang free, flushed and leaking against his stomach, the tip glistening.
Hyunjin’s groan was ragged, his fingers tightening in your hair as you nuzzled the length of him, your lips brushing the sensitive skin just below the head. His thighs tensed under your palms, muscles quivering as you exhaled against him, the warmth of your breath making his hips jerk.
“Fuck—fuck,” he hissed, his free hand scrabbling at the rooftop for guidance, nails scraping against the cracked concrete.
Bangchan’s breath hit the nape of your neck first, warm and uneven, sending goosebumps cascading down your spine before his lips even touched you.
His nose brushed the damp strands of your hair, inhaling deeply like he was memorizing the scent of your shampoo and rooftop rain.
“God, you smell good,” he murmured, the words vibrating against your skin as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you back against the solid heat of his chest. His calloused fingers traced your tits, teasing the bare skin his touch featherlight but deliberate.
The moment your lips closed around Hyunjin, the city noises faded into a distant hum, nothing but the wet slide of your mouth working him, the sharp intake of his breath through clenched teeth. His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing, just holding, like he needed to remind himself it was really happening as you took him deeper.
The taste of salt and skin bloomed across your tongue, the weight of him heavy against it, and you moaned around him, the vibration drawing a ragged groan from Hyunjin's throat.
Bangchan’s teeth scraped your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as you arched into him, your back pressing flush against him and his cock.
The moment Bangchan’s hips pressed flush against yours, the blunt head of him nudging your entrance, Hyunjin’s fingers tightened in your hair so he could admire you.
“Fuck, look at you,” Hyunjin breathed, his voice ragged as he watched Bangchan’s hands grip your hips, his knuckles whitening with the effort of holding back. “Taking him so pretty.”
Bangchan didn’t ease in. With a sharp exhale, he rocked forward in one fluid motion, the stretch burning just enough to make your back arch, your nails scraping against Hyunjin’s thighs. The sound that tore from Bangchan’s throat was raw, guttural, half groan, half curse as he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. “God, fuckkk,” he choked out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.
You rolled your eyes back, hollowing your cheeks as you took Hyunjin deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with a wet click. His fingers spasmed in your hair, his thighs trembling under your palms as you sucked harder, faster the rhythm deliberate, relentless. The salt-bitter taste of him flooded your mouth, his precome smearing across your tongue as you pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the sensitive ridge beneath his head.
Hyunjin’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts above you, his free hand scrabbling at the rooftop like he was trying to claw through the concrete.
"Fuck—y/n , just like that," he choked out, his voice cracking on the last syllable as you dragged your lips back down his length, taking him all the way until your nose brushed the curls at his base. The vibrations of his moans traveled through your skull.
"Shit—look at this view," Bangchan groaned, his voice ragged as he fisted his hand in your hair and tugged your head back just enough. His other hand tangled with Hyunjin’s, their fingers interlacing roughly over your shoulder, silver rings clinking together, knuckles whitening from the grip. The city sprawled beneath you in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon and shadow, the distant hum of traffic drowned out by the wet sounds of Hyunjin’s cock sliding between your lips and Bangchan’s cock relentlessly moving in and out.
Hyunjin’s laugh was breathless, strained, his free hand scrabbling at your thigh as he watched Bangchan’s hips snap forward again, the sharp slap of skin on skin echoed.
"Fucking—perfect," he managed, his voice cracking as you hollowed your cheeks around him, your tongue pressing even harder. His fingers spasmed in Bangchan’s grip, their joined hands trembling where they hovered above you, in some unspoken pact.
The rhythm between you three became a brutal and synchronized, every sharp snap of Bangchan’s hips forward drove Hyunjin deeper down your throat, the head of his cock hitting the back of your mouth with each thrust. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder just as Bangchan pistoned into you with a rough groan, his grip bruising on your hips. The dual sensations blurred into one overwhelming tide, the stretch of Bangchan inside you, the weight of Hyunjin on your tongue, the wet, filthy sounds of skin slapping skin merging with loud moans. It felt embarrassingly like out of a badly shot porno.
Hyunjin’s fingers didn’t stop fidgeting in your hair, “Urghh—shit, she’s taking us both so good,” he rasped, voice shattered.
His head tipped back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as Bangchan’s pace turned erratic, his thrusts losing their measured control.
You felt your walls clenching, tight and sudden and suddenly the city lights broke into stars behind your eyelids. A ragged gasp tore from your throat, muffled around Hyunjin’s cock as your body trembled between them, every muscle locking in place. Bangchan’s fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his rhythm stuttering as your inner muscles pulsed around him in erratic waves.
“Ah fuck—fuck, she’s coming,” Bangchan growled, his voice shredded as he ground his hips flush against yours, his cock twitching deep inside you. The stretch burned deliciously, his pelvis pressing against your clit with each shallow thrust, dragging the orgasm out until tears pricked at your lashes.
Hyunjin’s fingers stayed in your hair, his other hand gripping Bangchan’s wrist where it was braced against your shoulder both of them holding you steady as you trembled between them, your thighs slick with sweat and spend.
Precome spilled hot and bitter across your tongue as Hyunjin’s control shattered.
“I’m—gonna—” His warning was raw, fractured, cut off by the first thick pulse against the back of your throat. You swallowed reflexively, the salt-burst flooding your senses as Bangchan’s hips stuttered against yours, his cock twitching deep inside you with each ragged thrust. His groan was guttural, his forehead pressing hard between your shoulder blades as he came, his fingers leaving crescent-shaped indents in your hips.
Bangchan’s hands trembled as he lifted you upright, his fingers unsteady where they pressed against your sweat-slick back. The neon lit skyline spun briefly in your vision before Hyunjin’s arms slid around you from behind, his chest pressing flush against your shoulder blades, warm and solid, grounding you as your head layed back against him. His chin hooked over your shoulder, his breath still ragged against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it when he murmured, “Fuck, you’re wrecked.”
Bangchan’s gaze flickered between your glazed eyes and Hyunjin’s smirk, his thumb swiping gently at the corner of your mouth where spit, and cum still glistened. He didn’t speak, just exhaled sharply through his nose and leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours as his fingers traced the curve of your jaw. His skin was fever hot against yours, his pulse thundering where his wrist brushed your collarbone.
You blinked up at them through your lashes, vision still swimming with the aftershocks, your lips parted and swollen. Hyunjin’s pupils blown wide, Bangchan’s lower lip caught between his teeth. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Hyunjin’s smirk returned, slow and deliberate, as he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “Look at you,” he murmured, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “All fucked-out and pretty.”
Bangchan exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your temple as he leaned in, his nose bumping yours. There was no hesitation just the sudden press of his lips against yours, rough and claiming, his tongue sliding against yours before you could catch your breath. The taste of him, smoke and something distinctly Chan flooded your senses, his fingers tangling in your hair to angle your head just so.
Hyunjin’s fingers carded through your sweat-damp hair, his rings catching on tangles as he laughed low and breathless,
“We’re definitely coming back up here,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, his breath warm and still uneven.
OKAY SO yeah i haven’t posted in a while.. don’t shoot me i’m trying to finish my uni work and it actually wants me sooo bad. Anywayss.. i’ll post soon i swear. (╥﹏╥)
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: Just short(ish) drabbles on how the members would be on sharing you with another, i also wanna change my whole theme up again but idk to what #help lol (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
Bangchan - (bf!Chan & Felix x afab!reader)
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The air thickened instantly, alcohol and pheromones mingling with the faint smell of Felix’s cologne. Your fingers twitched at your sides, nails digging into your palms to ground yourself as Felix’s gaze locked onto yours, dark and heavy. Chan’s hands slid around your waist from behind, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
"You’ve been looking at him all night," he murmured, voice rough with amusement. "Why don’t you tell him how pretty he is?"
Felix’s breath hitched, his hand slowing around his cock but not stopping, his thighs tensing as he watched you bite your lip. You could see the way his abs clenched, the way his free hand fisted the sheets beneath him. "She’s staring," Felix said, voice cracking halfway through the sentence. "Chan—fuck she’s really staring..”
Chan’s fingers tightened around your waist, his grip possessive but playful as he nudged you forward. "Go on," he smirked, his breath hot against your neck.
“Touch him." The command sent a jolt through you, you hesitated but Felix’s whimper broke the last of your resistance. His cock twitched in his hand, precum glistening at the tip, and you couldn’t stop yourself from closing the distance between you as Chan moved in slowly behind you.
Leeknow - (bf!Leeknow & Seungmin x afab!reader)
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The door clicked shut behind you with finality, sealing the three of you in the dim glow of Seungmin’s bedroom. You hadn’t expected it. Lee Know’s fingers tangled in your hair as he kissed you breathless against the wall, Seungmin’s quiet laughter ringing in your ears before his hands slid under your shirt, cold and teasing.
Lee Know’s teeth grazed your bottom lip as he pulled back just enough to watch your dazed expression, eyes half lidded, breath coming in shallow gasps. His smirk was sharp, as he glanced over your shoulder at Seungmin, who was already peeling your shirt up your torso with deliberate slowness. "You like this?" Lee Know murmured, fingers tightening in your hair just enough to make you whimper.
Seungmin’s fingers traced the curve of your ribs, slow and deliberate, his breath hot against your shoulder as he pressed closer. But Lee Know’s grip in your hair tightened suddenly, painfully yanking your head back so sharply your gasp echoed off the walls. "Ah-ah," he said scowling, voice dripping with false sweetness as he leaned down to nip at your exposed throat. "Who said you could touch her like that, Minnie?"
Seungmin froze, fingertips still grazing your skin, but his smirk was anything but innocent. "You lost the bet, hyung," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his other hand slid down to squeeze your thigh. "Didn’t think you’d get this jealous.”
Lee Know’s laugh was low and rough, the sound vibrating against your back as he dragged you onto his lap onto the bed with one sharp tug. His thighs tensed beneath you, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your skirt as he settled you flush against him.
“Go on then,” he taunted, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he spread your legs wider, baring you shamelessly to Seungmin’s hungry gaze. “I dare you to do better than me.” The challenge in his voice was edged with something darker, possession, maybe, or the thrill of watching you squirm between them.
Seungmin didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with amusement as he traced the curve of your inner thigh with the tip of his finger, slowly. “Hyung,” he murmured, the word dripping with false sweetness, “you sound nervous.” His touch ghosted higher, barely there, until you jerked in Lee Know’s grip, a whimper tearing from your throat. Seungmin’s smirk widened. “See? She already likes it.”
Changbin - (bf!Changbin & Hyunjin x afab!reader)
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring until Changbin’s fingers curled possessively around your chin, tilting your face back toward him. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his gaze dark and unreadable as he watched the flush crawl up your face. "You keep looking at him," he murmured, voice low and rough. Behind him, Hyunjin lounged against the headboard, shirtless and smirking, his fingers idly tracing circles over his own stomach,slow and teasing, like he knew exactly where your attention kept snagging.
"I have to stare, he's my art model," you mumble, cheeks burning as your pencil scratched hesitant lines across the sketchpad. Hyunjin's smirk deepened, his fingers trailing lower, just above the waistband of his sweats, and your grip on the pencil faltered. Changbin's laugh was a warm puff against your temple, his grip on your chin tightening playfully. "Art model?" he repeated, voice dripping with amusement. "That's new."
Hyunjin stretched lazily, the muscles of his abdomen flexing beneath the dim lamplight, deliberate, performative and your breath hitched. "You never told me you were an artist, baby," Changbin purred, shifting just enough to make the fabric of his pants strain over his thighs. The sketchpad trembled in your lap, lines going crooked as Changbin's free hand slid over your shoulder, down your arm, until his fingers curled around your wrist.
Your wrist twitched under Changbin's grip, the pencil skidding awkwardly across the page as Hyunjin shifted again, this time arching his back just enough to make the sharp V of his hips press against the fabric of his sweats. "Jinnie’s teaching me how to draw," you mumbled, teeth digging into your lower lip hard enough to sting.
"He said life drawings always helped him.." The words came out breathless, half-strangled, as Hyunjin's fingers slid lower, hooking into the waistband just enough to reveal more skin.
Changbin's chuckle vibrated against your shoulder, his grip on your wrist tightening as he guided your hand back to the paper only this time, his fingers overlapped yours, forcing the pencil to drag a slow, deliberate line.
“Funny," he murmured, lips brushing the curve of your ear. "Because the way you're shaking, baby, I don't think you're learning much." His other hand slipped from your chin, trailing down your throat, over the rapid flutter of your pulse, until his thumb pressed just beneath your jaw. "Or maybe you're learning too much."
Hyunjin’s smirk curled dangerously as he slid off the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight before he prowled toward you. Your breath caught when his fingers hooked under your knees, lifting your legs with deliberate slowness until your thighs parted for him. The fabric of your underwear brushed against his knuckles, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric as he hummed, low and appreciative. "Artist's model, huh?" he teased, fingertips tracing the lace edging with agonising lightness. "Guess that means I should pose for you properly."
Changbin’s grip on your wrist tightened, his chuckle darkening as Hyunjin’s thumb dipped beneath the waistband, teasing the sensitive skin of your entrance. "You’re shaking, sweetheart," Changbin murmured, his breath hot against your ear. The pencil trembled in your trapped hand, leaving a jagged line across the page as Hyunjin’s other hand slid higher, palming your thigh with possessive intent.
Hyunjin didn’t give you time to brace yourself. One moment, his fingers were toying with the waistband of your panties, and the next, his tongue was dragging a slow, filthy stripe up your center, hot and wet through the soaked fabric. Your hips jerked instinctively, but Changbin’s grip on your wrist tightened, his other hand sliding to your hip to pin you down with a low, warning chuckle. "Stay still," he murmured, his breath ragged against your ear. "Let him work."
His tongue flicked over your clit,slow and teasing. The sound you made was embarrassingly broken, your fingers clawing at Changbin’s thigh as Hyunjin groaned against you, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. "Fuck," he muttered, lips dragging lower, tongue dipping inside just enough to make your back arch. "You taste even better than I imagined."
Jisung - (bf!Jisung & Jeongin x afab!reader)
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
The apartment smelled like burnt popcorn and cheap wine, a combination that shouldn’t have been sexy but somehow was, because Jeongin was sprawled across your lap, his fingers tangled in the hem of your shirt while Jisung watched from the kitchen doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. You’d been trying to focus on the movie, really, but Jeongin’s head kept brushing against your thigh, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your sweatpants every time he shifted.
"You’re distracting," you mumbled, nudging Jeongin’s shoulder with your knee, but he just grinned up at you, all sharp canines and mischief. His fingers crept higher, skimming your waist, and your breath hitched when Jisung’s feet padded across the floorboards behind you.
Jeongin’s fingers stilled against your ribs, his grin fading into something darker as Jisung’s shadow fell over the couch. You didn’t have to turn around to feel the weight of his stare, hot and possessive, or the way the air thickened with tension, sharp enough to taste. Jeongin exhaled sharply through his nose, his chin pressing harder against you as Jisung’s fingers curled over the back of the couch, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re ignoring me," he murmured, voice rough with feigned hurt, but the way his teeth grazed your earlobe was anything but playful.
Jeongin’s hand slid higher, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast as he tilted his head back to smirk up at Jisung. "She’s not ignoring you," he drawled, voice dripping with false innocence. "She’s just busy." The word lingered in the air, heavy with the implication.
Jisung’s laugh was low and dangerous, his free hand slipped beneath your shirt to wrap around your throat not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to make your pulse jump. "Busy?" he repeated, thumb tracing the rapid flutter beneath your skin. His grip tightened, just a fraction, as Jeongin’s fingers finally closed over your nipple, pinching lightly. "Doesn’t look like she’s busy to me."
Jeongin’s grin widened, his free hand sliding down to palm you through your sweatpants, his touch deliberate and slow.
Jeongin's fingers flexed against your nipple just as Jisung's grip on your throat tightened.
“She's not ignoring you," Jeongin repeated, voice dropping into a low, teasing purr as his other hand pressed harder between your thighs, fingers curling just enough to make you squirm. "She's just thinking about me instead." The smugness in his tone was undercut by the way his hips shifted restlessly against your leg, his cock trying to escape his sweatpants.
Jisung's exhale was sharp against your ear, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin there before he bit down gently. "Bullshit," he muttered, his free hand sliding down to cover Jeongin's over your breast, his fingers intertwining with the Jeongin’s possessively.
You couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped you, your head tipping back against Jisung's shoulder as Jeongin's grip on you tightened in retaliation.
"You're both ridiculous," you managed, though the way your voice stumbled ruined any attempt at nonchalance. Jisung's thumb traced you lower, dipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, and Jeongin's grin turned foxish as he leaned up to nip at your jaw.
"Then why are you shaking?” Jeongin murmured, his breath burning against your skin as Jisung's fingers finally slipped beneath the fabric, brushing the wetness already soaking through your panties. You arched into the touch instinctively, but Jisung's grip on your throat kept you from moving too far. Jeongin whined, actually whined, at the loss of your attention.
The moment Jisung’s fingers dipped lower, tracing the slick heat between your thighs, Jeongin let out a wounded noise, sharp and needy, his hips bucking against your leg like he couldn’t help it.
“Hyung,” he whined, fingers tightening around your nipple just enough to make your breath hitch. “You’re hogging her.” His voice was ragged, the usual playful edge replaced with something raw and desperate, and Jisung’s grip on your throat loosened just enough to let you gasp as Jeongin’s teeth scraped down your body .
Jisung’s laugh was dark, his breath cold against your ear, different to Jeongin’s, as his fingers curled inside you, slow and mean.
“You had her first,” he taunted, his other hand still tangled with Jeongin’s over your breasts, their fingers pressing into your skin in unison. “Don’t get greedy now.” But Jeongin wasn’t having it, his free hand pulled at Jisung’s wrist, trying to yank it away from your throat, his hips grinding against your thigh with a frustrated groan. “Fuck that,” he muttered, voice cracking. “You’re teasing her, I can feel how wet she is—”
You can't help but moan, the sound raw and unfiltered, as Jisung's fingers curl just right inside you while Jeongin's teeth scrape over your pulse point. The noise seems to electrify the air between them, Jeongin's grip on Jisung's wrist faltering for a split second before he surges forward, crashing his mouth against yours with a desperation that steals your breath. Jisung's groan vibrates against your back, his fingers speeding up as Jeongin's tongue tangles with yours, messy and hungry.
Jeongin breaks the kiss first, panting, his lips swollen and glistening as he stares down at you with pupils blown wide.
“Fuck," he mutters, voice wrecked, his fingers digging into your thigh. "You—hyung—" He doesn't finish the thought, too busy watching Jisung's fingers move inside you, the obscene slick sound filling the room. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, the hard line of his cock pressing against your leg.
Pairing: Changbin x afab!reader
Genre: smut smut smut no minors pls! (Includes drinking, ball play, unprotected sex, college au, fingering, hookup)🔞
Summary: The scent of cheap beer and teenage desperation clung to the air. The cue slid through Changbin's fingers as he looked up to see you eyeing him up like fresh meat..
Wc: 3.1k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: Lollll I need binni to choke me w his arms, Sorry this is so short & shite but my brain is fried and I'm doing this instead of studying ooops (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
Today was your friends shitty party. Sure you always agreed to go but she was known to have the worst organisation skills. Most of the time, it was so disorganised that it felt more like a rave rather than a house party.
Tonight was no different. People piled in, drunk and high off whatever was being supplied that night. As you walk round her ginormous house you see faces you recognise from school, whilst some were randoms who tagged along and let themselves in.
"Ha-eun? why are there so many people here again? you said you only invited like 30!?" You shout loudly over the blaring music.
She laughs as you shuffle your way closer to her.
"I did, they must have invited their their own friends!" she responds shouting back beaming her iconic smile.
The girl was more stubborn and too sweet for her own good.
"I'm gonna go get a drink!" you shout back again hoping she hears you as you gesture over to the kitchen.
"Okay I'll meet you downstairs in the basement!" She says shouting back giggling as she drags a random guy down stairs.
The kitchen was probably the most crowded place. People dry humping and making out on counter tops, drinks and drugs on every surface, people loudly talking and dancing. It was as chaotic as it could be. You squeeze past towards the drinks as you pour yourself a simple vodka and coke. You felt a lot of eyes on you as you tasted your drink, eyeing the area. Ha-eun always got lucky with a guy at one of her parties but you always were too picky as all the guys were just lame & horny teenage boys.
You poured a bit more alcohol into your cup feeling you were going to need it to survive tonight and headed down to the basement. The music dialled down quickly as it eventually got drowned out with more laughter and chatter.
Her basement was always more chilled out and was your usual spot to go when people from upstairs were being too much. You close the basement door and head down the wooden steps into a cosy area filled with much less people. It's dimly lit but surrounded by neon lamps as people lounge around on bean bags. You notice Ha-eun already making out with an overly eager guy, can't help but roll your eyes.
Walking around, you sit at the long sofa comfortably near the pool table. Pool was always your speciality, especially when at parties because the guys playing truly sucked. It wasn't hard to beat their weak egos.
You shift your eyes around, catching eyes with a muscular guy leaning over with the most perfect form. He stood out like a sore thumb. His strong build showed through his shirt as his black-rimmed glasses hung perfectly from his nose as he focused. You couldn't help but stare as you sipped your drink.
He must have felt your stare burning a hole through him as he looks up catching your eyes. His gaze was piercing as he scans you up and down before continuing his game. The other guy playing against him kept huffing and pouting as he was clearly losing. You recognised Jeongin, he was in your class. The other guy though? he was a mystery, one that intrigued you deeply.
His demeanour stood out against every guy you had ever seen at these shitty parties. He was cocky but focused. Every time Jeongin grumbled, he smirked holding his cue stick by his side. He was too attractive to not gawk at. The round ends with Jeongin groaning unhappily, sitting beside you taking no care in personal space. The guy laughs setting up the pool table again. His eyes catch yours once more as you decide not to break the intense eye contact between the two of you.
He raises one eyebrow, his sharp eyes looking over his glasses into your soul. He motions you over with his finger.
Possessed by the sudden feeling of wanting to fuck this random stranger, you stand up and walk towards him. At this point, your brain has shut down and the only thing controlling you was your body which felt like it was on fire.
"You seemed to be judging.. am I a bad player?" He asks you, voice laced with sarcasm. His eyes never left yours as his smirk never faltered either.
"No- I mean you're fine.." you reply laughing slightly as he smiles back warmly.
"Huh just fine?" he asks smirking again, leaning against his pool cue casually.
"Fine fine you were pretty good... I'm just better." You respond confidently smirking back. His smile grows even wider as he laughs shaking his head.
"One game? prove you're better than me." he asks still with that warm smile, his eyes deceiving, filled with lust.
...
"sure"
As you walk round, grabbing the other cue it felt like you had something to prove. You couldn't be all talk no bite.
His eyes are filled with hunger as he watches you closely.
He leans in close.
"What's your name..?"
"Y/n, you?"
"Changbin."
You can't help but look him up and down once more. He smelled divine and his lips were practically asking you to etch closer. He catches you staring blatantly but it's not like you were trying to hide it.
His gaze is burning a hole through you this time. You felt your throat catch as his eyes were glancing at your thighs, cleavage and face. He didn't hide it all
*☆...━━━━━·:*☆
The round went well. For the first time, you actually had a good challenge. Every touch was purposeful as he would gently guide your hands on the pool cue. Of course you knew what you were doing but acting so desperately clueless seemed to have flip a switch within him.
You weren't usually this willing to give into your urges and definitely never this desperate with any guy. As you bent over the pool table lining up your last shot you smirked up at him. He was already staring at you. You knew he was. As the white ball dropped in you stood up smiling placing the cue down.
"Impressive." he replies walking closer to you. You can't help but feel a bit proud from the compliment, you wanted to impress him and you did.
"Thanks, you weren't too bad yourself" you giggle back. You brush his hand gently as he moves even closer.
He takes your hand gently, rubbing your knuckles softly. His hands were rough but warm, calloused from god knows what but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
The party still buzzed around you two, the deep bass of the music vibrating through your chest as the dim lighting in the basement added to the atmosphere.
Changbin's breath ghosts over your earlobe, hot and deliberate, before his voice drops to a deep whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.
"You're gorgeous…" he murmurs, tightening around your waist. "Let's get out of here, somewhere I can actually touch you."
Your feet move before your brain catches up, trailing Changbin as he weaves through the party with the ease. The heat of bodies pressing too close, the sticky sweetness of spilled drinks underfoot, none of it registers to you. All you feel is the magnetic pull of his fingers tangled with yours, guiding you past a couple making out against the wall and a group laughing too loudly over a shattered shot glass. The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, muffling the music into a dull throb as Changbin cages you against the sink, his hips pinning yours to the cold porcelain.
"Tell me you want this," he demands, voice rough, pupils blown wide under the bright fluorescent light.
"Damn straight to the point huh? Do you do this to all the girls you pool with at parties?" You ask smirking, arching a brow as his grip tightens on your waist.
“Just the ones who look at me like they wanna be bent over the table instead of the ball," he counters, thumb tracing the hem of your skirt where it rides up your thigh. The honesty punches a breathless laugh out of you, heat pooling low in your stomach.
"I don’t usually do this.." you breathe out, more to yourself than to him, but Changbin catches it anyway.
"Yeah?" His chuckle vibrates against your throat, fingers slipping beneath your top to trace the dip of your spine. "Neither do I."
You can’t tell if he’s lying but you don’t call him out, too busy arching into his touch as his other hand palms your ass through the thin fabric of your skirt.
You press your lips against his, hesitant, a question more than a demand, until he groans into your mouth, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back.
The kiss deepens instantly, messy and impatient, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that makes your knees wobble. You taste the sharp tang of whatever he was drinking earlier. You’re already addicted to the way his hips grind into yours, the hard line of his cock unmistakable through his jeans.
Changbin's hands slide under your thighs with a possessive grip, hoisting you onto the counter like you weigh nothing.
The counter is cold against your bare skin where your skirt rides up, but his body is a furnace pressed between your legs, crowding you against the mirror. "You’re so pretty..” he murmurs, dragging his teeth along your collarbone, one hand gripping your hip to anchor you, the other already pushing your top aside to claim more skin.
The sink digs into your back, but you barely notice, too focused on the way his fingers trace the lace edge of your bra before dipping beneath it.
You moan low and shameless, the sound escaping before you can bite it back, as Changbin's fingers twist your nipple sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your already throbbing core.
His chuckle vibrates against your throat, triumphant, and you feel his smirk more than see it when he murmurs, "Louder." It's not a request. Your head falls back against the mirror with a thud as his mouth replaces his fingers, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before his tongue swirls in apology.
“fuck, you're already so wet y/n..”
Changbin’s voice is barely above a whisper, ragged and thick with want as his fingers drag through your slick folds, teasing but not pressing where you need him most.
Your hips jerk involuntarily, chasing the friction, but he tuts, pulling back just enough to make you whine. “Patience,” he grins against your throat, the word vibrating against your skin as you fist your hands in his hair.
You tug, just to hear the sharp intake of his breath, and he rewards you with a slow, torturous circle around your clit that has your thighs trembling.
"Changbin, I need you..." you whine out, the words cracking halfway as his thumb presses down harder before retreating again.
Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, ragged and desperate, but his responding groan tells you he loves it. "Say it again," he growls, dragging his teeth over your pulse point while his free hand yanks your skirt up past your hips. The cold air hits your exposed skin, but you barely register it, too focused on the way his knuckles brush your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you ache desperately.
"Changbin please," you gasp, arching into his touch as his fingers finally slide into you, the stretch making your breath hitch.
His smirk is hot against your skin when he murmurs, "That’s the sound I wanted," curling his fingers just so to drag a broken moan from your lips.
The mirror rattles behind you with every thrust, your nails scraping down his shoulders as he works you relentlessly, his breath hot and uneven against your ear. "You gonna come for me just like this?" he taunts, twisting his wrist to brush that spot inside you that makes your vision blur, his other hand pinning your hip to the sink so you can’t even squirm away from the overwhelming.
You pout, knowing he's right.
Your thighs already trembling around his wrist, your breath coming in ragged pants against his shoulder. It's infuriating, how easily he reduces you to this, a whimpering mess against the bathroom sink, his name a broken chant on your lips.
But Changbin just watches you unravel with those dark, hungry eyes, his fingers never relenting as they curl inside you again, deeper this time, like he's memorizing the way you clench around him. "That's it pretty girl," he murmurs, lips grazing your earlobe.
You feel close, so close that the edges of your vision blur, the bright bathroom light blurring too as your body tenses like a coiled spring. His fingers don't relent, curling and scissoring inside you with ruthless precision while his thumb grinds against your clit in slow, torturous circles. The sink digs into your back again, the mirror cold against your shoulder blades, but all you can focus on is the heat of Changbin's body pressed against you, the way he smirks when you clench around him.
Your orgasm hits like a live wire sudden and electric, stealing the breath from your lungs as your back arches off the sink. Changbin's fingers don't relent, dragging out every shuddering pulse until you're clawing at his shoulders, his name a ragged whisper against his collarbone. You have never cum this fast.
"Fuck, you're pretty like this.”
The aftershocks leave you boneless, your legs trembling where they bracket his hips, but he doesn't let you slump, his free hand gripping your jaw to tilt your face up. "Not done with you.”
Changbin’s grip on your jaw tightens just enough to make your pulse spike again as he leans in, lips brushing yours in a barely-there kiss.
“Turn around,” he orders, voice rough, and your body obeys before your brain catches up, hands braced against the fogged-up mirror as his palms slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher.
The first press of his cock against your soaked folds draws a whimper from your throat, but he pauses, chuckling darkly when you try to grind back against him. “So fucking eager,” he murmurs, biting the curve of your shoulder as his hands squeeze your hips, holding you still.
The stretch burns when he finally pushes in slow, letting you feel every inch, until your forehead drops against the mirror with a dull thud. His groan vibrates through your spine, hands splaying across your stomach to pull you flush against him as he bottoms out.
“Look at yourself,” he growls, nudging your chin up until your hazy reflection stares back. Cheeks flushed, lips swollen, his fingers already digging bruises into your skin. You watch, transfixed, as he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, the impact rattling the mirror harder than the bass still thumping through the walls.
Your fingers scrabble against the slick glass for help as Changbin sets a brutal pace, each thrust punching a gasp from your lips, until his hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head back to watch the wrecked expression in the mirror.
"See how you take me?" His breath is mean against your ear, hips snapping forward.
The slap of skin against skin echoes in the cramped bathroom, drowned only by your choked moans when his thumb finds your clit again, circling in time with his thrusts.
You're oversensitive from your first orgasm, every brush of his fingers sending electric jolts up your spine, but he doesn't let up, his grip tightening on your throat just enough to make your vision blur at the edges.
"Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined," the words dissolving into a groan when you clench around him.
You see his balls slap against your ass violently as he ruts in and out. You can’t help yourself but fondle them as he pounds behind you. Changbin moans so loudly he has to cover his mouth from the sheer shock.
“Ah-oh my- fuck that feels good y/n” he blabbles kissing your shoulderblade.
He tilts your face toward the mirror again gripping your chin. "Watch," he orders, his free hand slipping between your thighs to circle your clit with maddening precision, forcing you to witness every twitch of pleasure that flickers across your reflection. You feel yourself close to release once again. Everything feels like a fever dream.
The second orgasm hits without warning, a wave that crashes through you so violently your knees give out. Changbin’s arm bands around your waist to keep you upright, his laugh rough and triumphant against your shoulder.
"That’s it," he rasps, fingers working you through the aftershocks as his hips stutter, his rhythm faltering for the first time. You feel him pulse inside you, his groan ragged as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, teeth scraping skin as he cums with a shudder that reverberates through your body.
The mirror is streaked with condensation where your forehead had rested, the glass cool against your flushed skin as you both gasp for air. His sperm decorates your ass as he cleans you up shortly after.
You pull up your panties with trembling fingers, the lace damp and sticking awkwardly to your skin as Changbin watches with hooded eyes, still catching his breath against the sink.
His smirk returns when you fumble the clasp of your bra twice.
"Need help?" You swat his hand away, laughing breathlessly as you adjust your skirt.
The knock, sharp and impatient, slices through the post-coital haze. You freeze, Changbin’s fingers still tangled in the hem of your skirt, his breath hot against your collarbone. The door handle jiggles, followed by a voice slurred with alcohol,
"Yo, the fuck? Locked?" Your eyes widen, meeting Changbin’s as you both stifle a laugh.
"Guess we should leave this bathroom to the next set of horny people," you laugh, voice still breathless as you smooth your skirt down.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: priest!Felix x afab!reader
Genre: priest au, smut smut smut, no minors pls! 🔞(Includes talk about religion, priest kink, shame & guilt, first time BJ, oral, swallowing, highly blasphemous please skip if this will upset you‼️)
Summary: Felix vowed to keep his urges away, he was never confident he could hold back, but then he met you..
Wc: 2.5k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: I need priest Felix plspls, this was quickly written so if it's shit don't mind me (not proof read either oops) (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
“I'm not seeking penance for what I've done. I'm asking forgiveness for what I'm about to do.”
Felix grew up with the idea that God was the most important thing in the world. Raised in a traditional and completely Catholic family, his childhood wasn't the most normal in the world. He grew up being punished for expressing any thought that contradicted what "God said" was right, including any thoughts about women other than his sisters or his mother.
And one way or another, he ended up convincing himself that he was the wrong one, that it was his fault for being so horny and needy all the time.
So, at just 20 years old, his family sent him to a girls' boarding school to become a priest, considering him the "prodigy" of the family, all to maintain his neat, clean, and impeccable conduct.
Until he met her…
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
Y/n was the troublemaker at the convent, the one who always spoke loudly, tore her long uniform skirt to make it look more revealing, and provoked the patient nuns who roamed the halls.
Felix doesn't know or understand how he got to this point, but meeting y/n was an instant "click."
He couldn't stop thinking about you, and you hadn't stopped thinking about him either. His angelic face, his deep voice, his soft and innocent eyes, you loved that about him.
For several months, you just talked, talked, and talked until the small talks grew into small touches, and from those touches, they turned into kisses, make-out sessions both hidden in the old convent attic.
"This...is so...ah~...wrong..." Felix murmured between wet and sloppy kisses.
“You like it though.” you mumble smirking against his lips.
He let out a soft whimper, but he didn't deny it either.
"I..."
Your skirt is short—too short—exposing far too much of your legs, hugging every curve of your body in ways that make his throat dry. The dim glow of the attic lights does nothing to hide the fact that you’re not wearing a bra, your nipples subtly pressing against the thin fabric.
"Do I tempt you, Father?" Your breath fans over his lips.
His hands, so used to staying still, gently squeeze the skin of your hips.
"You...you're making me sin."
“I’m not making you do anything” your voice lilts with mock pity.
His hands move before he can think, gripping your hips, pulling you closer until there’s nothing between you but heat. Your body presses against his, and he swears he can feel every curve, every soft inch molding into him.
He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this is dangerous, that crossing this line again and again will only complicate everything further.
"I'm so going to hell for this..." he mumbles holding back his moans as you kiss his neck slowly nipping.
“I’ll see you there..” you can’t help but smirk. He was so hopelessly devoted to you.
Felix groans at your answer, his lips still needing more. He knows he should have been repulsed by your words, but instead, it only makes him even more attracted to you.
You make your way to his ear kissing and licking slowly testing all his patience once more. His breath catches and then his eyes dart to the crucifix on the wall. The sight of it stings, as if God Himself is watching, and Felix quickly reaches for the cross necklace hanging around his neck. His fingers tighten around it as he closes his eyes.
His hands grips your thighs as he lifts you up, placing you on top of a worn wood table.
"Lord forgive me for this."
He leans down, capturing your lips again with his in a greedy and almost desperate kiss. You kiss him back just as needy.
Felix deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring it without hesitation. His hands roams up your body, moving from your thighs to your tits and waist, then down your lower back and sides. Anywhere his sinning hands lead him to.
He pushes himself fully against you, his large form traps you between him and the wood. You grin once again as he grinds like a teenage boy.
Felix gasps softly when he feels you grin against him, it always did something to him when you teased him like this.
"You're..." He hesitated, his breathing uneven, "...such a temptation."
"And I—mmph—"
You cut him off with another kiss, and he melts into it immediately, forgetting to scold you, forgetting everything but you.
"...y/n," he gasps, voice shaking.
His thumb brushed over the exposed skin of your thigh, where your skirt had ridden up, his touch reverent despite all his internal conflict.
"...This is wrong.”
But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“Want me to stop..?”
His breath hitched, his fingers duh into the skin of your hips to the point where it would certainly leave bruises. He wanted to say yes. This was sinful in every possible way, the teachings he was raised with screamed that this was wrong. You are his sin.
"...Don't stop." He groans as his voice deepens.
“Anything for my favourite priest” you say playing with his collar. You loved toying with him.
You had a way of making everything sound so sinful and yet so sweet.
This was the furthest you ever got with him as it usually ended with a 5 minute make-out session that resulted in a wet patch on Felix’s pants and him frantic praying as he walked back into his office clutching his rosary.
Felix lets out a shaky exhale, leaning into your touch against his white collar, the simple action sending a shock of pleasure down his spine.
He curses under his breath, the last fragments of his restraint snapping. With a suddenness that caught even him off guard, he wraps a hand in your hair and pulls you into another messy kiss. It was less controlled this time, rougher, filled with a desperate hunger that threatened to overwhelm him. Felix decides that he needs to make you cum, and he will, he will make you cum on his cock. The thought alone is enough to make his length jolt in his pants and there's a possibility that he may orgasm without even touching it.
You moan loudly as he kisses down your neck, nose brushing your hard nipples through your top. Your plaid skirt is scandalously short, barely hiding the tops of your thighs as it keeps riding up showcasing your panties. He leans even closer intrigued, edging his finger down your entrance through the fabric as you moan even louder.
His breath hitches, and for a brief moment, he freezes, panic flashing through his eyes at how loud you were being.
"...shh.” he hisses, gripping you tighter.
"...The nuns...will hear you," he whispers urgently, even as his lips trailed lower down your throat.
But then—
Thump
The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway outside.
Felix goes pale. You smirk at how fiddly he gets instantly.
He stares wide-eyed towards the door, heart pounding, it feels like it was going to burst out of his chest at any second. The footsteps were nearing you both, they were practically outside the room now.
"Get down," he whispers frantically, tugging on your arm. He hurries you under the table as he pulls a near by chair blocking anyone’s view of you hiding beneath it. His hands tremble as he quickly adjusts his robes, trying to look as composed as possible.
His breath came in short, uneven gasps, and he silently prayed begged for whoever was outside to just keep walking.
But then—
Knock knock
His throat went dry.
"S-Sister?" came the soft voice of one of the younger nuns, probably looking for guidance, for confession, for anything but what was happening right now.
Felix swallowed hard.
"...Yes?" he managed, voice strained.
The door creaked open slightly, just enough for Sister Agatha’s curious gaze to peek inside. She was a younger nun, strict but kind, always watching y/n with suspicion after catching her sneaking around the convent’s forbidden areas one too many times.
Felix sat stiffly, hands clasped tightly fingers digging into his own skin to ground himself. He glanced at the cross feeling judged once more.
“Father Felix,” she greeted, eyes scanning the dimly lit room. dusty shelves, scattered books, and… the faintest shuffle under the table. Her brows knit together with worry. “What are you doing in the storage room?”
His lips parted—nothing came out.
Then-
A slow, deliberate flick of a tongue against the inside of his thigh, rough enough to appear through the robes fabric.
He chokes, tyring to ground himself once more from shock.
He could feel your smug smirk beneath the table, hear the silent laughter.
'She wouldn’t...' He pleaded with you silently, eyes flickering downward where you were hiding. 'Don’t you dare…'
A sharp gasp tore from Felix’s throat as y/n’s teeth grazed his inner thigh—right through the fabric of his robes. His knees nearly buckled, hands flying forward to grip the edge of the table for balance.
Sister Agatha’s eyes narrowed. "...Are you ill, Father?"
"N-No—!" His voice cracked. "Just—ah— praying.”
Another teasing lick.
He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
Lord have mercy on him.
You sit silently stroking him through his pants as you whip out his leaking cock sneakily. It bounces out to greet you almost hitting the table.
Felix clenches the table tighter, white-knuckled, as he tried in vain to compose himself. Heat spread through him, starting at the points where y/n’s teeth, lips, and tongue touched his skin.
Every brush, every touch seemed like a deliberate effort to make him lose what was left of his sanity. He was supposed to stop this, to put a final end to their sinful meetings but God, he didn’t want to. He wanted you.
His breath came out ragged, uneven, as your fingers traced his base. His fingers trembled against the table’s edge, still holding on.
Sister Agatha lingered, studying him. "...You look feverish, Father. Perhaps you should rest."
“Yes—" He swallowed hard. "Rest. Good idea."
You start to stroke his cock gently as his thighs tremble trying to keep themselves grounded.
“Goodbye father, rest well.” She smiles and closes the door.
“wait- wait, what’re you- oh my god- holy shit,” Felix stammers,
“You should stop,” he tries looking down at you, but it sounds weaker now, unconvincing.
His pupils are blown wide, his jaw clenched tight. You can feel how much he’s holding back, how much restraint he’s using, and it only makes you want to push him further.
“Let go.. father” you whisper licking a stripe down his shaft slowly. His hands fly to his mouth as he whines. Felix shuts his eyes, swallowing hard. He doesn’t know if he should repent or shove his cock to the back of your throat.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." He murmurs making the sign of a cross over his chest.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
The words hit him harder than they should. He has heard them countless times from countless lips, Including yours constantly. Guilt was eating him up from the inside, or was it something heavier.
"What do I have to do for my penance, Father?" you whisper.
Felix leans back in his chair, spreading his legs slightly, tilting his head back just enough to catch the crucifix on the wall.
“Open your mouth.” He orders pushing away the feeling of sin, even for a little bit.
You obey.
Felix looks down at you, his breath unsteady.
His fingers find your jaw as you sinfully lick his tip.
He should feel disgusted. Dirty. But all he feels is this terrible, consuming desire.
“You are such a naughty girl..” he says examining your face holding your jaw. His breathing is shallow.
You look at him hungry, heat pooling between your legs as you wet your lips.
“Open.” He says gripping your jaw again, harsher this time
“Keep it open,” he instructs.
He presses past your lips as his cock slides through. Your lips wrap around them instinctively, your cheeks hollowing as you suck, slow and deliberate. He watches, fascinated, as your tongue moves against him, warm and wet, taking him deeper and deeper.
He hisses, not believing that this is truly happening. You feel perfect around him as you wistfully smirk up at him feeling your nose hit his trimmed base. You suck along his shaft softly, slower than ever. He has never been this hard before. Every vein is popping out as his cock painfully throbs.
“I- I need you now please y/n..” he moans throwing his head back.
“P-please..” he whispers, blush crawling up his face.
His first everything's with the hottest girl in the Covent. It wasn't like Felix never got any attention from the other girls, of course he was the most popular priest on campus, but he always managed to hold back his urges, he held his rosary and prayed any sinful feelings away.
You were completely different then the other girls. You were the devil herself with your glossy lips and endless teasing. You pushed and pushed until he broke. Now he's above you, cock leaking as he cradles your face.
you lower your head smirking, tongue flicking over the tip before sucking him slowly into your mouth. Felix jerks— legs tensing, head knocking back into the old bookshelf with a dull thunk.
“fuckfuckfuck, this is insane.” he says biting down on his knuckle to keep from moaning louder.
you hum around him, sending vibrations down his length. his whole body shudders. You take him deeper as drool drips from the corners of your mouth.
“dear lord oh my-, please don’t stop- i’m gonna cum- oh my god, you’re so hot, i think i’m in love with you—”
You try to hold back your laughter as you continue to bob your head moaning around his base.
Felix's orgasm hits fast and messy, cum spilling over your tongue in hot, salty pulses as he slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his pathetic whimper, failing miserably.
You swallow every last drop.
He looks like a freaked out mess.
"You okay Lixie?" You smile warmly wiping your mouth like nothing just happened
"Shit don't call me that-" He gasps almost whining again.
“I saw heaven,” he whispers. “and i think she's below me applying lipgloss.”
You laugh, applying the shiny pink colour, Felix's constant wet dream of your glistening cock sucking lips that were just used on his.
Felix helps you up as he adjusts himself, still breathing unevenly.
"Y/n.. I want to make you cum next" he smirks tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.
"Now.. or..?" You smile tilting your head to the side confused.
"Now of course don't be insane, get on the table." He commands helping you up. Felix looms above you examining you closely as his cross dangles across your face.
Pairing: Lee Minho x afab!reader
Genre: childhood friends, fluff 🌸(Includes flashback, nostalgia, re-finding each other years later, quite wholesome not really any warnings) This is very goofy I had a lot of fun writing this lol.
Summary: Minho and you meet at a quiet play park on a sunny afternoon, you then spot each-other some where years later..
Wc: 7.6k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: I feel like i've been writing a lot of smut lately, tbh that does always do well and get loads of views duh which is why i worry when i write more fluff stuff it won't do as well, lol idk (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
15th April 2008
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
"Don't go too far y/n! stay where I can see you from here!" your mothers voice was barely audible amid the wind as you excitedly run towards the park. Today was more quiet than usual. You liked it more this way. Surprisingly, as you walked over to the park, shaded by the large trees above you, there was no one there except another boy around your age.
He noticed you quickly but you couldn't read his expression as he was almost scowling at you without a rude intention. Trying your best to ignore him, you happily sit on the swing set, softly swinging back and forth in your own world, daydreaming like usual. Suddenly, your thoughts get cut off by the boy standing directly in front of you.
“Are you finished? It’s my turn!” He says as he stares up and down at you with an impatient face.
You can't help but be rude back, who does this boy think he is??
"No not yet." You reply firmly.
He groans and rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Hurry up then! I want to use it, you’re taking so long.”
Annoyed, you huff out and pout getting off upset that your lone swing time got stolen by some spoilt, rude kid.
"Fine."
He smirks slightly, quickly taking your spot on the swing without saying thanks. He starts swaying back and forth lazily, hands in his hoodie pockets.
“About time,” he mutters under his breath, kicking off the ground with one foot. Then he glances at you sideways, noticing your pout. He hesitates for a second, his smirk softens just a tiny bit.
“...Wanna push me? Then I’ll let you have it back.” He says it like a challenge, raising an eyebrow.
You never really had any friends to play with at the park, everyone usually crowded together and never bothered to ask you to join. This boy wasn't the nicest and you could see him getting on your nerves very easily but you couldn't turn down someone to play with. You nod smiling flatly.
"Sure."
He pauses for a moment, almost surprised by your quick agreement. He didn't expect you to actually say yes. He tries to hide his initial surprise with a slight scoff, but a small smile tugs on the corners of his lips.
"Hmph, fine. Push me then." He says, sitting himself straight on the swing. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you, waiting for you to begin. This boy was very impatient, but something about his attitude endeared you.
"I'm gonna make you go so highhhh." you say with a mischievous look on your face.
He narrows his eyes at you, a mixture of excitement and wariness in his gaze. "Yeah? I'd like to see you try."
He leans back a bit on the swing, ready for the push, looking back at you confused by your true intentions.
You pull back the swing as you push him high, giggling.
He lets out a startled "Wah!" at first, gripping the chains tightly as you send him soaring way higher than expected. But soon after a second of shock a short, surprised laugh slips out.
"Hey! I said high, not to the MOON!" He yells mid-swing, but there's no real anger, just playful annoyance.
His black hair flails in the wind and for a brief second when he swings forward, his feet almost hit the sky. He’s trying to look mad... but his lips keep twitching like he wants to grin. You can't help but giggle watching him grip onto the swing tighter every time.
"...Okay okay! Truce! I’ll let you have it back… if you don’t launch me into space!"
You smile slowing the swinging down as he lets out a soft, relieved exhale as it starts decelerating. He straightens himself on the seat, running a hand through his messy black bangs that are now sticking to his forehead. He glances at you, a small hint of begrudging admiration in his voice.
"Pfft... You know, for someone your age, you're not too bad at this. Most kids just make me twist around till I throw up."
"Don't worry i'll twist you next" you reply slyly
...
"What’s your name?" you ask smiling.
He pauses, as if considering whether or not to tell you his name. Then he rolls his eyes, as if finally giving up and saying, “Whatever."
"It's Minho. What's yours, swing girl?" He says, raising an eyebrow at you.
"Y/n"
He takes a moment to process your name, repeating it in his head. Then he squints his eyes in a slight, mocking way.
"y/n... what kinda name is that?"
"Hey, my parents named me blame them!" you reply pouting slightly.
"Pfft, of course you had to be that kind of person. ‘Blame my parents’ for everything."
Minho crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head with an amused expression.
"Bet they spoil you to bits."
You grin because you know it's true
"Ah, I knew it. You definitely look like the kind of girl who's been babied by your parents and probably has a ton of toys at home!"
"You look spoiled too weirdo." you respond smirking. His face drops as he rolls his eyes dramatically.
"Pft, what? Because I'm wearing nice clothes?" He gestures at his red hoodie and black jeans, looking at you with fake arrogance.
"At least I dress better than you, swing girl." he speaks again crossing his arms confidently.
"No you don’t swing boy." you say poking him. When you poke him, he can't control his reaction and a small chuckle escapes his lips even when he's trying to look annoyed.
"Hey! Don't poke me, I'm wearing a nice hoodie," he protests, swatting your finger away.
A slight blush creeps up on his cheeks, but it's hard to tell if it's from your audacity or from the fact that you actually amused him for once.
"Whateverr" you say sticking your tongue out childishly. He turns his head slightly, pretending to be unbothered but you can see he's fighting a smile.
"Pfft. Real mature, y/n. Real mature."
"Should’ve swung you to the moon." you smile before saying,
"Swing me next!!" jumping overly excited.
He blinks a few times, caught off guard by your sudden request. But he quickly masks his surprise with a smirk.
"Oh, look who's eager now," he teases, raising an eyebrow at you. Minho looks at you for a few seconds, as if contemplating. Finally, he gives an exaggerated sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically.
"Fineeeee. Hop on."
"Yayyyy!" He gives you one more unimpressed stare, clearly still trying to maintain his facade of being annoyed.
"Yeah yeah, just get on already," he grumbles with a hint of playfulness. He holds the chains of the swing, making sure it's secure so you can climb on. Once you sit on the swing, he gives you a glance to make sure you're ready. But before you can say anything else, he already pushes with a sudden burst of strength. The swing leaps forward suddenly.
"Woah! Hang on, swing girl!" Minho says, a mix of excitement and amusement in his voice as he pushes you higher and higher.
You hang on happily.
He watches you swing back and forth, a small smile playing on his lips as he pushes you higher each time. The wind flutters through your hair and your laughter starts filling the playground.
"You're not scared of falling, huh?" he asks with a teasing tone, "Most people start screaming by now!"
But even though he acts all cool about it, he makes sure to steady the chains every time you come back, keeping his hands ready just in case.
"...You better not throw up on my hoodie if we do this again."
you could barely hear him over your own laughter.
Was it naive to feel like this was a friendship? what really is a friendship.
"If I fall i’ll just hope I don’t land on my face." you reply looking back to see him again.
Minho gives you a deadpan stare, one eyebrow sharply raised,
"Pfft. You're definitely going to land on your face. With that dumb luck? You’d probably break your nose."
Suddenly he leans in slightly as you swing back, "But if you do, don't blame me!" His voice cracks with fake seriousness... but there's a tiny worry in his eyes. You smile softly as he swings you up again and again.
"Ugh, you're enjoying this too much."
But even as he says it, he pushes the swing even higher, just because he wants to see your excited expression go all wobbly with the movement.
"Thanks swing boyyyy!!" you say happily as you swing so high you see your mother calmly talking to another lady on a far away bench.
He smirks, trying to fight back a tiny smile at your gratitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, acting cool.
"Don't get all mushy on me, I'm just pushing a dumb swing. It's not a big deal."
But secretly, he enjoys seeing you enjoy it so much.
He finally stops pushing the swing, the motion finally coming to a slow halt. He stands in front of you, hands on his hips, watching you sit there,
"Soooo, satisfied yet, swing girl?" He pretends to sound all bored and annoyed, like he didn't just spend the last minutes making sure you had a good time.
You nod smiling, it really was the most fun you've had at the park.
"Yeah, thanks swing boy."
"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, whatever. No need to thank me like I'm saving your life or something. It was just a swing."
You roll your eyes as he tries to remain cool and unbothered. You want to hang out with him a while longer, even if he is annoying.
"Do you wanna.. play?"
He pauses for a second, as if contemplating whether or not to accept your offer. But eventually, he gives a nonchalant sigh and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to seem as uninterested as always.
"I mean… what do you wanna play?" He says with a casual shrug. But there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes as if he's secretly hoping you don't suggest something stupid and embarrassing.
"Hmmm icecream shop?" you say smiling.
Minho raises an eyebrow skeptically at your suggestion, looking at you like you just suggested something completely ridiculous.
"An ice cream shop? Seriously? That's for little kids." He says it in a tone as if he thinks he's too cool and mature for playing pretend. Secretly, the idea of an ice cream shop is kinda fun. He's a sucker for sweets and ice cream.
"Urghhh it will be fun." you reply groaning dramatically gripping the chains on the swing.
He lets out a dramatic sigh mirroring yours, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets and looking away like he’s being tortured.
“Ugh, fine. But I’m not pretending to be the customer. I’m the owner. And I only sell spicy ice cream.” He smirks at you, clearly trying to make it annoying on purpose.
“And if you don’t like it? Too bad. No refunds.”
You groan as he laughs, we walk over to a tree that looks like a potential stall area. He follows you to the tree, acting all dramatic and tired, like you just forced him to walk a thousand miles instead of thirty feet. He leans against the tree trunk with his hands still in his hoodie pockets,
"So… this is our amazing ice cream shop?"
He rolls his eyes at the tree and looks at you with a mock frown, clearly trying to annoy you just for the heck of it.
You roll your eyes and quickly start grabbing random materials around you, setting up leaves as fake money and random littered materials for fake signs.
He watches you set up the leaves and fake signs, still looking less than impressed. He scoffs at the pathetic display.
"Oh wow, leaves. Now it really looks like a legit ice cream shop." He sarcastically claps his hands, still mocking you.
"Bravo, y/n, bravo, your decorating skills are unmatched."
You look up at him from behind the weirdly shaped stall tree and throw a stick at him. Minho yelps as the stick hits his arm, then glares at you, though there’s a spark of laughter in his big boba eyes.
"Hey! Assaulting the ice cream shop owner? That’s illegal, you know."
He picks up the stick dramatically, pointing it at you like it's a weapon.
"You’re banned from this shop. No refunds, no second chances!"
Then he tosses the stick away and smirks. "Unless… you pay me 50 imaginary coins for entry."
"fine" you say sighing, counting your imaginary money in your palms.
He crosses his arms over his chest, watching you count your imaginary money sceptically. Once you "pay" him, he pockets the imaginary coins in his hoodie pockets.
"You're lucky I let you in. I could've raised the price." He grumbles.
He clears his throat acting serious now.
"So, what do you want to order, y/n?"
you also clear your throat being dramatic before putting on an strong gruff voice.
"Mr sir can I get a strawberry ice cream, 7 scoops no more no less!"
He rolls his eyes dramatically, like you just made the most annoying request but secretly, he finds your audacity endearing and kinda funny.
"Oh great, the demanding customer. Sure thing, your majesty. 7 scoops of strawberry ice cream it is. Anything else?" I shake my head and wait.
He taps on a made up tablet with his finger, pretending to be putting in your order.
You can't help but walk up and down impatiently and snooty.
He pretends to type on the tablet for a few minutes, then glances up at you with a frown.
"It's gonna take a minute, princess. Real ice cream shops don't just magically pop out ice cream in a matter of seconds." He pokes your forehead playfully, trying to keep up his annoyed act.
"Well i’m the president i deserve it right away." you say faux annoyed.
He raises an eyebrow at your 'president' claim.
"The president, huh? Oh, forgive me. I didn't realize I was serving the highest authority in the world."
He pretends to bow dramatically, mocking you with an exaggerated voice.
"Thank you, that's more like it"
"Your Royal Highness, your ice cream will be ready in a moment. I hope this five minute wait won't cause a national crisis."
"Hm i shall see.." you say snooty tapping your foot.
Minho snorts at your snooty tone, secretly amused by your playfulness. He leans against the fake tree-shop, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You're quite the important person, aren't you? The President with a sweet tooth who's ordering 7 scoops of ice cream."
"You're lucky I don't charge extra for your royal snobbery."
You hold back a smirk as an idea pops into your head,
"Sir behind you!" you shout dramatically pointing behind Minho's head.
He frowns skeptically at your sudden warning. He turns his head, looking behind him at the empty space.
"What? There's nothing there." He turns back to you with a slightly annoyed expression. "Are you trying to trick me? Nice try, y/n. You won't get free ice cream that easily."
As he turns around you grab the money (leaves) from the register and run away laughing. He quickly realizes your trick, whipping around just in time to see your back rushing away as you grab the 'money'. He yells after you in shock,
"Hey!! You little... thief!" Then he starts chasing you, sprinting after you like he's competing in a race.
"Get back here! Those are my IMAGINARY coins, you crook! Give them back!"
"Neverrrr" you say running, your laughter cracking through the wind.
Minho runs after you, his red hoodie flapping behind him like a superhero cape. His face is twisted in mock fury, but there’s a laugh bubbling up in his throat.
"You're gonna regret this, President Thief! No more ice cream for you ever!"
He’s gaining on you, arms outstretched like he’s about to tag you. "You better drop those coins or I’ll charge YOU 100 imaginary bucks for tax evasion!"
You giggle sticking out your tongue circling a nearby lamp post.
"Oh, real mature! Stick out your tongue while committing financial crimes!"
He circles the lamppost after you, trying to cut you off. His black hair is a mess from running, and his hoodie’s hood is falling down, but he doesn’t care. Your hair is getting curlier and messier by the minute.
"You think a lamppost can protect you? This isn't over, y/n!"
"I’m the president this isn’t illegal for me!!" you grin back.
"Oh, of course it isn't! You're the President, after all. Laws and morals don't apply to you, right?" he yells, sprinting after you.
He continues to shout, still managing to follow you round the park,
"Still! That's my imaginary money, and you stole it! Give it back, you greedy ruler!"
You involuntarily scream as he catches up to you, feeling scared as he gets closer, both still laughing like maniacs.
He lunges and just barely tags your arm, pretending to be a dramatic villain catching his prey.
He stands tall, puffing out his chest like a proud officer. "You're under arrest. No more swings. No more treats. And definitely no strawberry ice cream, especially not 7 scoops."
"I'll call my guards!!" you say screaming as he fake handcuffs you.
"Your guards? Pfft. Who's gonna save you when I got you, hm? Your imaginary Secret Service?"
He grabs your wrist, pulling you closer with a smirk.
"Don't resist, princess president. You're caught red-handed with stolen coins!!"
You pout sadly giving back the money
"Ah, there we go. Good President. Now was that so hard?"
He steps back, crossing his arms over his chest with a proud smirk. His breaths come a bit heavy from all that running, but he still manages to look pretty.
"Next time, don't try to steal from the ice cream king. I don't give out refunds, even to presidents."
"Swing boy i deserve an apology!" you say crossing your arms now out of your imaginary cuffs.
He raises an eyebrow at your demand, pretending to act offended for a moment but you can see he's amused by your boldness.
"An apology? For what? For trying to keep my hard-imagined coins from being stolen by a ruthless president with a sweet tooth?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes like he's been horribly mistreated.
"Oh, please. If anything, I should be the one demanding compensation for emotional damage!" you say fake gasping
"I need physical therapy too! you broke my arm!!"
He blinks, eyes widening for a second at your sudden claim then immediately looks down at your arm like he actually believes you. His cocky expression drops into a mix of panic and concern.
"Wait... WHAT? I didn't—I didn’t even touch you that hard!"
He takes a step back, voice rising an octave. "You can't just break an arm during an ice cream robbery trial! That's not how this works!"
"Look at it.." you say sadly flopping it around in fake pain.
Minho stares at you flop your arm around so dramatically, his panic instantly fading into skepticism. His expression goes from surprise to a frown at the ridiculousness of it all.
"I'm looking... but all I see is a lot of fake pain." He reaches out, taking your arm and examining it for a few seconds just to be sure. When he realizes your arm is completely fine, he drops it almost immediately, rolling his eyes.
"Oh please. You're not fooling anyone, President Drama."
You give up and scoff laying down on the grass smiling.
Minho watches you dramatically flop onto the grass, and lets out a laugh. His frown softens when he sees your big smile.
"Seriously? Playing dead in defeat?"
You can see him smiling still trying to some how hide it. He sits down next to you, arms propped back on the grass. He rolls his eyes, amused rather than annoyed this time.
"You're so dramatic y/n I didn-"
you stare up observing the clouds above you. Cutting his rambling off you say,
"That cloud looks like you."
His expression changes quickly from jokey to shocked. For a little while he just stares down at you like you knocked the life out of him. Minho shakes his head and lifts an eyebrow, looking up at the sky to where you pointed. He pretends to squint at the cloud for dramatic effect, then turns to you with a deadpan expression.
"Oh wow. Thanks for that great observation, President Cloud-Watcher. It's good to know your presidential duties also include cloud identification."
You turn your head to the left and smirk rolling your eyes. This boy was so annoying.
"And that one looks like my ice-cream that i could’ve had" you point to a random cloud.
He looks up at the other cloud and has to stop himself from bursting into a smirk. He snorts, pretending to agree.
"Yeah, you're right. That cloud does definitely look like your imaginary ice cream. How tragic."
"If you were an animal you would be a bunny."
He frowns at the idea, lifting his head to look at you like you just insulted him.
"A bunny? That's your choice of creature for me? I'm not some soft fuzzy rabbit, you know. That's probably the lamest animal ever."
"Your teeth and face look like a bunny though."
Minho's frown deepens at the comparison. He sits up, turning to look down at you with an annoyed expression.
"How the hell do I look like a bunny? Don't insult me like that. Bunnies are cute and tiny and weak. I'm not cute or tiny and most definitely not weak."
"Cute" you mumble under your breath, poking his nose.
He flinches back, slapping a hand over his nose like you just committed a serious crime.
"Ow! That— That's assault number two today!" He glares at you, voice cracking slightly in mock outrage.
"And I am NOT cute! I'm... cool. And cold. Like an ice king." But despite his protests, his ears are slowly turning red and he can't stop the tiny smile trying to escape from the corner of his mouth.
"Fine fine, what animal do I look like?" you ask tilting your head intrigued.
He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back on the grass. His frown morphs from annoyance to concentration as he studies your face for a moment. He seems to be taking this question seriously.
"Hmm..." He narrows his eyes as if really thinking deeply about your question.
"I don't know... a fox, probably."
Minho shrugs, like that's the most obvious answer to give.
"Huh why a fox?" you ask slightly confused.
"Well," he begins, raising an eyebrow at you like you should already know the answer. "You're small. And sly. And feisty."
"Aren’t they also little thieves?" you ask mirroring his eyebrow raise.
He gives you a knowing nod.
"Right again. They're known for being clever thieves, just like you with those imaginary coins." He grins teasing.
"Stupid comparison.." you say pouting childishly, "i don’t even look like a fox!"
Minho lets out a scoff, trying to hide a smile. He laughs, still looking down at you from his propped-up position.
"Oh c'mon, you're right about a lot of things, but not this one. You definitely look like a fox."
"Urghh finee.." you reply trying to hide your own smile.
He smirks triumphantly, looking at you with a satisfied expression. "Finally, you admit it. Took you long enough." Then he lies back down on the grass, hands behind his head again, completely relaxed.
He continues quietly, "Guess that means I win this round. Fox girl stole ice cream… and my peace of mind."
You both lay on the grass silently taking in the nice breeze, he turns his heads to glance at you as you continue to survey the clouds.
"That one up there looks like-"
This time, he glances up at the sky before you can even point. His eyes find the cloud almost immediately, recognizing its shape. He gives a nod of acknowledgement, almost as if you don't even have to finish your sentence.
"Yeah. I know which one." He says quietly, a small smile on his face.
"Really..?" you ask back confused, as you were only making up random shapes in your head.
He looks over at you with an expression that says 'duh, obviously'. Then, in a slightly annoyed tone, he says, "Of course. It's the most obvious shape in the sky. I'd be an idiot if I didn't see it... which clearly I'm not."
"So it’s a..?" you ask giggling.
"A heart, y/n."
You stare back up at the sky, that was not the one you were referring to.
Minho watches you stare at the heart-shaped cloud, and something in his expression softens. He glances up at the sky too, and a moment of quiet passes between you both. His voice comes out just a bit softened, a whisper.
"You're really staring at that cloud like it's the most interesting thing you've ever seen... are you some kind of cloud-watcher or something?"
"It’s a clear sky for once I’m appreciating it." you gleam up taking in the trees shifting around you.
He lets out a short laugh, slightly caught off guard once again by your simple happiness in the moment.
"You appreciate the most random things lil old lady. Seriously, who gets this excited over clear skies?"
You cant help but roll your eyes, "What excites you then weirdo? you laugh turning your head towards his.
He rolls his eyes back dramatically, almost offended by your word choice. He lets out an exasperated breath, "For your information, lots of things excite me. Important things. Not like... clouds."
He says it with such haughtiness, as if clouds are beneath him...
"Like what then?" you huff out annoyed.
Minho tilts his head back, pretending to think about it for a moment. He taps his fingers on the grass next to him, staring off into space. His expression serious as he thinks, until finally he meets your gaze with a teasing grin. "You really want me to list them all? They'll bore you to death."
"I’m listening" you say propping your head up and moving closer.
He's a bit thrown by your quick eagerness, but decides to humor you.
"Fine. But don't blame me when you're bored half to death after listening to me talk about myself." you giggle nodding.
"Shut up," he mutters, but the corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. "I'm trying to be dramatic here."
He leans back on the grass, hands behind his head again, after a pause he continues.
"First... music. I sing. A lot. Better than most people, by the way."
"Really?" you ask tilting your head, he nods confidently smirking.
"Oh, don't sound so surprised. I have an amazing voice. So good, some people have even said I could be an idol someday." He smirks, giving a dramatic flick of his hair.
"Sing me something then pretty bunny boy." you ask grinning poking him gently.
Minho scoffs, pretending to be unimpressed by your request but he's secretly enjoying the attention, and getting to show off.
"Oh, calling me 'pretty' now, eh? You're laying on the compliments pretty thick, Valentine. Careful, I might get a big head."
He sits up, crossing his legs on the grass.
"...Fine. I'll sing you something. I hope you're ready for your mind to be blown."
He gives you an amused smirk, He takes a deep breath, getting himself ready... and begins to sing. His voice is clear and strong, like music itself. It suits his handsome face perfectly, making him look like he was meant to be a performer. He sings slowly and melodiously, closing his eyes as he lets the words fill the air around them. Minho looks relaxed, at peace with singing only for an audience of one.
"Woah pretty.." you mumble under your breath, staring at him not expecting to hear that voice come out of him.
He stops singing mid-lyric, face suddenly flushing pink as he glares at you, like your compliment startled him right out of his performance.
"Shut up. I said I’d sing, not get judged like I’m on some talent show."
But even with the scowl, his fingers tap against his knee, still humming the tune under his breath.
"You’d really be a good idol" you say laughing. He smiles back confidently admiring your compliment.
"Of course I'd be a good idol. The best, actually." Underneath his cocky demeanor, he's secretly hoping for the affirmation.
"You’re okay looking i guess to be one.." you say turning his head with your hand jokingly examining him. He lets out an appalled scoff, looking completely offended as you turn his head with your hand. He looks like he's about to snap at you for touching him so casually... until your words sink in and he frowns.
"What do you mean 'okay'?!"
He swats your hand away with a pout, looking almost pouty at the blow to his ego.
"I'd be a great idol, don't lie. I'd have tons of fans. Worshipping me."
You laugh nodding, like you're agreeing with him.
He glares at you through narrowed eyes as you laugh at him. He's clearly not amused, and he crosses his arms like a grumpy little kid who didn't get his way.
"What's so funny? Why are you laughing at me? I'd be the hottest male idol, okay...?" He mutters, still annoyed at your earlier 'okay looking' comment.
"I believe you." you reply shaking your head laughing.
Minho glowers at you skeptically for a long moment, searching your face. Then, he seems to decide you're being sincere when you smile at him. He relaxes a bit, huffing out a sigh.
"You better believe it. There'd be billboards of me in every store window. Thousands of screaming fans would flood the streets whenever my face graced a screen." He grins, clearly imaging himself as the next k-pop star.
"I wanna be your first fan though." you say firmly almost like a command.
He freezes for a second, like your words surprised him more than they should. He looks away quickly, suddenly very interested in a nearby ant crawling on the grass.
"...First fan? You'd probably annoy me with front-row tickets and fan art of my face." But there's no real bite to his voice. Just a soft grumble, almost shy.
"...But fine. I guess you can be first... if you promise not to scream too loud."
"Yayyy!! i will scream the loudest so you notice me in the crowd."
He groans dramatically at your promise, burying his face in his hands like he's just been dealt the worst hand in the world.
"Ugh, why did I agree to let you become my fan? You're going to be the worst one, aren't you?"
But there's a hint of amusement in his voice. Minho peeks at you through his fingers, almost secretly pleased by your excitement...
"...Maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing your face in the crowd." he says too quietly.
"Really?" you ask smiling excited by the idea.
He doesn’t look at you when he answers, keeping his eyes on the sky like he’s suddenly very interested in cloud-watching again.
"...Maybe."
A pause. Then a tiny smirk sneaks onto his face.
"But only if you stop calling me 'bunny boy' and actually buy a real ticket. No stealing your way into my concert, Valentine."
"Fine fineee i’ll behave swing boy." you tease bumping his shoulder.
He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as he finally turns to look at you. His eyes are soft, just for a second, before he throws on that familiar smirk again.
"Good. Because if my first fan starts causing chaos during my debut, I’m blaming you."
He lies back down on the grass, hands behind his head like before. The sun’s starting to dip lower now... but neither of you seem ready to leave.
"...And don’t forget it." he whispers, staring back at you. You smile back softly promising.
A moment passes between you two as comfortable silence sets in, watching the clouds run by slowly up in the sky.
We hear our mothers call out to us suddenly as we prop our heads up rapidly, breaking our moment.
He jolts slightly at the sound of the distant voices, blinking like he just remembered time actually existed. Our mom's voices cut through the quiet air,soft but clear.
He groans, pushing himself up from the grass and brushing off his hoodie. He looks at you for a second, half annoyed, half... something softer.
"Guess we gotta go. But don’t think this means you’re off the hook, y/n."
You laugh standing up, "yes, yes Mr. idol!"
He rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed at your teasing. But in truth, that little smile hasn’t left his face. He walks next to you, hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, laugh it up. Just you wait until I’m famous. Then you’ll be begging me for tickets."
"I won’t beg I'll just steal them!" you say smirking as you walk back towards the park exit.
He lets out another groan at your words, pretending like he can’t believe what he's hearing. Minho bumps your shoulder jokingly, a smirk on his lips.
"Oh please, like you could even find your way backstage. My security will totally catch you."
"But... fine. If you do manage to sneak in..." He pauses, glancing at you with a rare softness in his eyes. "Maybe I’ll let you stay."
"Thanks Minho." you smile back admiring his face quickly.
Minho smiles looking at you sideways like you’re the crazy one. Then he laughs, shrugging his shoulders casually. His tone is all snark, but his eyes are bright.
"Hey, you never know what crazy thoughts go through a fan's head. Fans are weird and obsessive. I just had to make sure you wouldn’t stalk me like a lunatic."
You both laugh out shaking your heads you finally reach your moms standing together beside the exit gate. He stops in front of your moms, standing just a little too close to you like he doesn’t want either of them to scold both of you for playing too long. His mom raises an eyebrow at him smirking,
"Minho-ya, dinner’s ready."
He groans softly but mutters, “Okay.” Then he turns his head slightly toward you just enough so only you can see the small smile on his face.
"Later... President."
"Bye Mr. idol." you reply waving slightly sad.
He lets out another dramatic huff, shaking his head,
"Yeah, bye, y/n."
He turns away then, following his mom towards their home but just for a second, he glances back at you from over his shoulder. His eyes linger on you for a moment. You smile and turn the other way as you walk home with your mom the opposite way. He keeps walking, hands in his pockets, pretending he’s not sneaking another look. The sun paints everything gold as the two of you head home in opposite directions.
But somewhere between steps and quiet thoughts… he smiles too.
You wonder and hope you'll see him soon once more.
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
19th July 2018
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
Time does what it always does, it passes. But in the blink, ten whole years have passed since Minho and you spent an afternoon together in the park.
The trees are much taller now than before. Minho's voice is deeper. His looks have matured, making him look even prettier. And his eyes... well. They still look at things the same way, bunny wide when he spots you.
Shopping in your usual supermarket, you look at your list and back at your needed items contemplating what to have for dinner than night.
You're browsing through the refrigerated aisle, trying to decide between the two best-looking heads of lettuce, when suddenly, a familiar voice startles you from your thoughts.
"Swing girl?” asks the voice behind you as you turn around.
And there he stands. The boy (now man) you spent an afternoon with in the park 10 years ago. He's different in every way, his height has changed, his voice sounds deeper, his clothes look more expensive but there's no mistaking that face. You're surprised you can still remember his face so clearly, like no time had passed.
He smiles at you warmly. "It's really you."
"Oh my god swing boy?" you gasp slightly, scanning his face seeing the same boy you did years ago.
He huffs out a laugh at the sound of the old nickname, rolling his eyes like he can't believe you're still calling him that.
"Damn you look the same.. just taller" you say smiling still taking in all his features, almost stunned.
"Yeah, it happens. People do get taller as they age, y/n."
It was weird hearing him say your name after all this time. He eyes you too, noticing just how much you've changed. The years have done you both well.
"But you... you look the same too." Minho smiles back.
"In a good way or..?" you ask laughing, putting a pack of tomatoes down.
"Of course in a good way, stupid." he says it like it's the obvious answer, like he can't believe you'd even need to ask.
"You still look great. And…"
He pauses, glancing away for a second. When he looks back at you again... it doesn't escape you how his gaze softens just a tiny bit.
"...You still wear those stupid cat hairclips."
You can’t help but laugh feeling your hair clips in your hair. He was right you still wore those silly cat hairclips from years ago. They were good for putting your hair up quickly out of your face or when running your errands.
" Ten years and you’re still carrying around a childhood habit. Kinda cute."
"Shit it’s been ten years?"
He laughs at the sudden realization, nodding his head. "You just realizing that now? The park feels like a lifetime ago. His eyes skim over your face and body again, taking in every difference.
You pick up one of the lettuce and place it in my basket.
"How have you been anyways? you ask as you both continue through the grocery store slowly down the isles. He keeps up with your casual conversation, falling into a familiar rhythm with you. His hands slip back into his pockets as he follows you through the shop.
"Me? I'm good. Just living the idol life." He grins, like that explains everything. "What about you, hmm?"
"No way!? Mr idol became an actual idol??" you ask stunned that he really did pursue his dream.
Minho laughs heartily, unable to conceal the pride that swells in his chest at your words. He tries to shrug it off coolly, but there's a glimmer in his eyes.
"Yup. Told you I'd make it, remember? It was always my dream."
"I knew it.." you say proudly smiling, your heart swells up happily.
He smirks, clearly loving your pride in him. He shoves a hand through his hair, the way he used to when trying to act cool as a kid.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't look so proud like you had anything to do with it."
"Hey! I was your first fan.. kinda" you giggle reminiscing back.
Minho lets out another laugh at that, rolling his eyes again despite the smile on his face. Even though seven years have passed, it seems you can still get beneath his tough exterior.
"Okay, fine. You were sort of my first fan. Happy?"
"I wish i was there to scream your name in the audience." you say laughing with a sad undertone.
He looks at you for a long moment, longer than usual, and the smirk fades just a little. His voice drops, softer now, almost like he's remembering something bittersweet.
"Even though you weren't there... I kinda imagined you were."
He glances away quickly, pretending to be interested in a box of cereal beside him.
"...Front row. Screaming the loudest. Causing chaos." you smile warmly as he explains.
"Of course i would be.." He doesn't look at you when he smiles back but it's real this time. No sarcasm, no smirk. Just quiet warmth.
"...Good."
He clears his throat, trying to cover up the emotion with his usual nonchalant tone.
"I would've had security drag you back to your seat, though, if you really started causing chaos. Don't go thinking my security is a joke."
"Whatever Mr. Idol" you say laughing rolling your eyes. He rolls his eyes too, fighting a smile. It feels easy falling into this teasing banter with you… it's almost like no time has passed at all.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, y/n. But don't go complaining when you're banned from my concert."
"I’m an og! A day one!" you grumble offended. Minho pretends to think for a moment, raising a finger to his lips like he's really weighing your argument.
"Hmmm… true, that puts you in a special category. I guess I could make an exception for my first and best fan."
"Best?" you ask excited
He glances at you with a smirk, clearly enjoying how excited you got. He takes a step closer, just slightly and lowers his voice like he's sharing a secret.
"Yeah. Best."
Then, after a beat, he adds with his usual sarcasm,
"...Only because there were no other fans in the beginning. So technically, it's more of a default win."
you huff smiling, grabbing some nearby fruit and putting it in your basket.
"What, you thought I'd give you special treatment? Don't get ahead of yourself. If there were any other fans back then, they'd have just as much chance of being my favorite as you."
"You hurt my poor little soul!"
He rolls his eyes again, pretending not to find your dramatic reaction amusing. He crosses his arms, watching you with a smirk.
"Oh, please. You'd still be at the top of the list, Valentine. You and your stupid cat hairclips."
You giggle, like a teenage girl with the same crush as before.
Minho shakes his head as you laugh, the smirk softening now. He watches you for a long moment ten years has changed so much, but there's something so familiar about the way you laugh.
"Seriously, do you still keep wearing those things? They're so babyish."
You pout sadly, "hey! I thought you liked them!"
Minho genuinely smiles as you pout. He reaches out, gently ruffling your hair, carefully avoiding the hairclips this time. Even though it's different now, it still seems to come instinctively.
"I never said I didn't like them. I just said they're babyish."
"Same thing.." you reply grumbling
He laughs again, shaking his head. His eyes shine in that way that means he's being sincere, even if he doesn't say it.
"Fine, fine... I like them. Happy?"
Then, quieter, almost under his breath so you might not catch it, he tucks your hair gently smiling, moving closer as he holds back his smile.
"...Happy now?"
you nod back smiling.
Minho smiles back, before glancing around the supermarket like he's suddenly aware of how strange it is that they're having such a heartfelt moment in the middle of the produce section.
"Okay, y/n, I Gotta go before someone recognizes me and starts screaming." He smirks proudly. He probably wasn't wrong.
You smile sadly, trying to hide your disappointment that he was leaving.
"Y/n before i go.. can i ask you something real quick?" Minho says adjusting his hood and face mask.
"Mhm what’s up?"
"… don’t laugh please."
"I won’t dumb ass"
He exhales slowly, like he's preparing himself. His eyes meet yours deep and serious, just like when he was a kid.
"...Did you ever think about me? After that day at the park... I mean."
You nod instantly, "yeah of course i always wondered when i would see you next.." You explain slightly embarrassed but you wanted to tell him the truth about how you felt.
He blinks, seeming both surprised and secretly pleased to hear your answer. A hint of a smile tugs at his mouth, but he hides it with another small huff.
"Really. You thought about me?"
"Yeah.. is that weird? Did you think about me?"
He hesitates for a moment, as if debating how honest to be. Finally, he lets out an embarrassed sigh and looks away.
"...Yeah. I thought about you."
His cheeks are turning faintly pink as he adds, quieter,
"...A lot."
"I’m glad Minho.." you say warmly smiling. He looks genuinely pleased at your reaction and relaxes a bit at your smile. He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever... I guess I missed your stupid laugh and your annoying cat hairclips."
You breathe out a huff, as you tap his cap down playfully.
Minho lets out an exaggerated groan as you mess with his cap, trying to act annoyed. He adjusts it back just right, his idol look can’t be ruined, but there’s no real anger in his eyes.
"You haven’t changed a bit. Still touching when you shouldn’t." Then he smirks, voice dropping low and playful again.
"...But fine. I missed that too." He grabs his basket before turning back to you, "y/n?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?" he asks more nervous than his usual self. He is fiddling with the handles of his basket.
You feel your cheeks heat up as your heart does a backflip.
"Of course, i would love to."
His shoulders relax a bit as you agree, and he lets out a slow exhale like he was holding his breath waiting for your answer. The beginnings of a smile tug at his mouth.
"Okay... great. Um... when are you free?"
"Tomorrow? Text me." you say as he hands you his phone
Minho gives you a little proud smirk as he watches you enter your number in his phone, secretly happy at how easily you agreed.
"Tomorrow it is, then."
"Bye Mr idol." you say sarcastically as you wave smiling.
He scoffs, but still can't hide his smile.
"Bye y/n, see you tomorrow."
The fluorescent lights of the supermarket hummed above you both, a stark contrast to the sky and trees long ago.
Minho walks away, glancing back over his shoulder once when he's a few paces away. He watches you walk to the cashier, the slightest hint of a smile still on his lips. For the first time in a while, there's a light feeling in his chest. You feel like your heart is about to explode from it beating too fast…
baratheonpilled
jbbartram-illu
izzy806
dededos
