Azucar_Morena2

*Asks always open! Please request/suggest fic ideas - No OC's, sorry

A/N: I write for ATEEZ + more - I also have a BTS blog that I'm not as active on anymore. Not abandoned, just on hiatus

WARNING: I am a HARD stan, so most of my pieces will have smut, others MAY have violence/death/substance abuse, or depictions of toxic relationships. I will ALWAYS label those chapters accordingly

Key: ♥︎ smut | ♰ angst/dark | ☘︎ Fluff | ✿ BL | ▧ Short/one shot |◖Blurb |

ATEEZ:

Dadteez (ATEEZ as Dads| Imagine): Hyung | Maknae Selfish Waltz (ATEEZ as Toxic Situationship | Imagine): Hyung | Maknae Strings (Confessing Your Feelings to ATEEZ Situationship):Hyung | Maknae The End (Breaking Up w/ Long time bf): Hyung | Maknae

Fat-teez (ATEEZ’s Plus Size Gf | Imagine): Hyung | Maknae Best-teez (Becoming FWB's w/ ATEEZ) : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

[10PM] There once was a time ◖☘︎

The After ♰ -First Light -At the Crosswalk -Stillness

Best-teez (Becoming FWB’s w/ ATEEZ)

The Rise ▧ ♰ - La Llorona♰

[8PM] I'm better, huh? ◖ -[9PM] Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

The Dream and His Dreamer ♥︎: 1 |

One shots: [12AM] Perpetual falling ◖♰ [2PM] Sweet Tooth ▧ [10PM] Let go. Best-Teez (Becoming FWB's w/ ATEEZ)

Wicked Game ▧

Fixation (in progress)♥︎♰: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Team Work (in progress♥︎): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Mamacita (in progress): 1 | 2 |

One Shots: Best-teez (Becoming FWB’s w/ ATEEZ)

YUNGI: The River (in progress)♥︎✿: 1 | 2 | 3

The Knight’s Light (in progress): 1 | 2 One shots:

[3AM]Bonded ◖♰ Salt ♥︎♰

Best-teez (Becoming FWB’s w/ ATEEZ) Woosan: Red Born : 1 |

Would've Been You: 1 | 2 | 3 Yungi: The River (in progress)♥︎✿: 1 | 2 | 3 | Teaser

[12PM] Permits due ♥︎◖

[2AM]Lick Back -[3AM] Night Cap ▧ ♥︎

Hong Kyung: - Just a Friend (in progress)♥︎☘︎: 1 | 2 |

Pt.1 |

Summary: After a stint in rehab, your ex-boyfriend finds himself back at the bar you work at, wondering how things could’ve gone differently if only he hadn’t fucked it up.

*General Warnings: Smut. Substance abuse. Mingi is an ex-drug addict. Mentions of miscarriage.

*Chapter Warnings: Mentions of substance abuse and rehab. Mentions of miscarriage. Suggestive, no smut.

You stare down at him, your expression unreadable beyond being obviously stunned to see him. He sits there, unable to move. He swallows hard, his breathing suddenly picking up, matching his heart rate.

“Hey,” He finally says in that familiar, low voice…the one you haven’t heard in forever, but couldn’t forget if you tried.

You don’t respond, you just look down at his cup, then back up at him. “It’s just coke…I’m- I’m not drinking anymore,” He says, reading your mind instantly. He’s always been good at that. You stare for a little longer; eyes narrowed, studying his face as though comparing it to what you remembered him looking like.

“Why are you here?” You ask, though your tone is much less angry than he expected. In fact, it isn’t angry at all; it’s tired. Exhausted, even. Despite it all, you’re certain of one thing: your racing heart.

He clears his throat, looking down, “I…I just wanted to…see how you were doing.” “Why didn’t you just call? Why’d you come here?” You ask, gripping the dish towel that you use to wipe off the tables. “I thought if I called, you might not…” He exhales, “might not want to see me— and then I wouldn’t be able to show you, you know?” “Show me what?” You ask, dumbfounded. “That I’m sober,” He smiles, though it’s a sad, half-hearted smile; like he knows it’s too little, too late for pleasantries and celebrations over sobriety that should’ve happened long ago.

He looks around, “Are you gonna…sit down?” “I’m working.” “I know, I just….” he shrinks a bit at your suddenly irritated tone, “Should I go sit at the bar? Or…should I…just leave?” His own heart cracks at the thought of leaving after only just being able to hear you finally acknowledge him for the first time in a year and a half. For a second, he thinks you may just ask him to leave, but to his surprise, you chew on your bottom lip and say, “Come to the bar,” before turning and walking back over to your original place.

His heart flutters; you didn’t ask him to leave…that’s something, right?

Slowly, he stands, grabbing his cup and bringing it with him to the bar. You don’t say anything at first; you just take his glass, dump it, and fill it with new ice and more cola. He sits there, quiet as a mouse as you slide the glass back to him. Finally, you stand directly in front of him and cross your arms. “How long?” “How long…?” “How long have you been sober?” He sits there, thinking, “About a year. Well, longer than that, but it wasn’t by choice initially, so I don’t count it…” He feels a little sheepish. “When did you get out of the rehab center?” You ask, raising a brow at him.

He’s quiet for a long time. You wait; you’ve got nothing but time. “A year ago.” “A year ago?” You raise your brows, once again taken aback. He keeps his eyes on his cup, knowing full well what you’re about to say. “So, you got out of there almost as soon as you started, and then just didn’t call me or check on me? That’s great,” You nod, laughing bitterly. “It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s that—” He tries to explain, but you cut him off, “No, no, it’s fine. Whatever your reasoning is, I’m sure you were just doing what you felt would be best. I mean, hey, you’re sober now so…I guess cutting me off was what you needed, right?” You do nothing to hold back the bitterness in your voice.

He doesn’t get defensive; instead, he listens to you. You stare ahead for a second, trying to gather yourself so you don’t absolutely erupt. You want so desperately to prove to him that you’ve moved on, but it’s becoming increasingly clear with every passing second that you’re very much not okay. “I’m sorry…” You say, voice suddenly softer. His lips part, his eyes widening as he shakes his head, “No, no. Please, don’t apologize— you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I—” He exhales, “I have everything to apologize for.”

You think back to the blow-out argument you had on that day; the day you threatened that, if he didn’t go to rehab, you were gonna leave him. You’d never threatened that before; even when things were bad, you felt ultimatums were toxic— but you were so desperate at that point. Desperate for him— the him that you fell in love with— to come back to you. And when you told him you’d dumped his pills down the toilet? The way his face contorted to something completely animal. He didn’t lay a finger on you; he never would, but he said some of the most heinous, hurtful shit you’ve ever had someone say to you on your entire life.

When his mom picked him up from your apartment, upon your request, you sobbed and sobbed on that bedroom floor like you never have before. It felt like watching your partner die in front of your very eyes— but he wasn’t dead. He was very much alive and telling you he hated you. Searing pain with no relief. Looking back, you’re not even sure how long you laid there for: an hour? Four? A night? You half-expected for him to come through that door and apologize profusely; for him to tell you that it was all one cruel joke that went too far…but he never did. Not that day, not that week; in fact, tonight is the first time you’ve seen him in that entire time.

You had heard, of course, that his parents forced him into rehab. For a split moment, you had hope that he’d call you as soon as he was able to; you knew they didn’t always allow phone calls during the first few weeks of treatment…but a month went by, then three, then five. By the sixth month, you stopped waiting for the call. It was too painful, letting your heart flutter every time the phone rang and then letting it drop back to your stomach when you saw it was never him. You’d asked his parents about him the entire first three months, but you didn’t want to keep pestering them, so you asked them to just call you as soon as they knew something about him.

It felt like they were all in one accord to torture you with their silence.

“I didn’t reach out because I didn’t trust myself to stay good…” Mingi finally says, absentmindedly stroking the side of his glass, “I couldn’t get your hopes up and then let you down again.” “I needed you, Mingi. You don’t even understand what I went through when you were gone—” “Y/n, I went through some really hard things too. I’m not trying to excuse myself, by any means. But I-" “I had a miscarriage.” Your voice breaks, but you don’t let yourself cry, immediately bringing your hands up to your eyes to dab at the moisture already forming.

Mingi sits there, completely stunned. Of all the things he’d expected for you to say, he never imagined something like that. His heart sinks, “You- you what?” “A month after you left,” You swallow the knot forming in your throat, “I had a miscarriage…and I couldn’t find you. Your parents wouldn’t tell me where you were, they couldn’t give me a number—” The knot wins, and you’re suddenly so glad it’s so dark in this bar, and the music is just loud enough to drown you out a bit. You look away from him and focus on breathing.

You’d gotten some spotting a month after Mingi left; you’d initially dismissed it, throwing on a pad and pushing on to get some stuff done around the house. Throughout the day, however, your cramps became excruciating; like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’d called out, knowing you weren’t gonna be able to make it through your shift at the bar, and thought you’d just try to take some pain killers and a nap— but eventually, it hurt so bad you ended up getting a friend to take you to the ER. When the doctor finally told you you were miscarrying, it was like everything fell silent; even the doctor, as he kept moving his mouth, had no sound coming out of him. You couldn’t stop touching your stomach, silently mourning something you didn’t even know you had until you’d already lost it.

You didn’t go to work for two weeks; you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. If it wasn’t for your parents checking in on you, you’d probably have let yourself starve to death. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell them what was wrong, so they assumed it was just some kind of severe melancholy, due to missing Mingi…you suppose they weren’t completely wrong about that.

“Y/n, if I’d have know, I swear, I would’ve—” “Don’t say what you would’ve done when the moment’s already come and gone,” You say, shrugging, “It doesn’t help either of us to think like that.” “While I was away, you were all I thought of…you have to believe me,” He says, looking up at you. Strangely enough, you do believe him. You nod, “I know.” Mingi finally takes a drink of his fresh coke, trying to ease the dryness in his mouth, “I’ve got no excuses to hide behind, Y/n. I was cruel to you, even in my absence…even if you never forgive me, you have to know how much I loved you,” His voice cracks too, “How much I still love you.”

Hearing him say it; those words you’ve longed to hear for so long…you can’t deny the way it makes your very skin scream for you to throw yourself back into his arms. You wipe a solitary tear that runs down your cheek, “It’s too late for that.” “I know it is…but I still wanted you to hear it.” He looks at you, just taking in the moment. It’s true; none of this is anything like how expected…

And yet, he finds himself exhaling in relief. Like he’d been holding his breath for so long and you just gave him permission to breathe.

He sits there for a little while longer, although you’re pulled in a few directions as you continue serving people’s drinks. A few people, Mingi notes, remind him of himself; young, life of the party, eager chug every drink that comes their way. He wonders if you ever watched him drink himself stupid, and thought about how sad he looked. You were much kinder to him during these moments than he ever deserved.

He thinks back to one night, when he’d stumbled inside your apartment, noisily kicking off his shoes at the door. He was so loud, and yet, when he saw you on the couch, you were fast asleep. It was clear you’d been waiting up for him, as the book you’d been reading was still open in your lap, and your keys were right on the end table; you always did that whenever he went out, anticipating a call to come get him. He doesn’t even know how he remembers this moment; he was totally shitfaced…but for some reason, the image of you won’t leave his head. He knew then, what you’d only found out when he was gone; he was selfish. Far too selfish to love you right. It broke his heart for you— just not enough to stop him from hurting you further.

Finally, at 2AM, you’re off work. You weren’t sure exactly how long he’d be willing to wait for you to get off, but he stayed the whole time. He didn’t even look bored; just pensive. A few times, out of the corner of your eye, you’d glance at him curiously, wondering what it was he’s thinking. Back then, he was always easy to read…then again, he was always drunk. Now, it’s like there’s a veil over his expressions. It makes you want to pry into his brain.

You walk over to him, wiping off your hand on your apron, “I’m off work now…” He looks up at you, waiting for whatever you’ll say next; hoping desperately things don’t end here. You clear your throat, “Have you eaten?” He shakes his head, “No.” You turn your back and walk toward the door to the back, and for moment, he looks like a puppy tied to a lamp post, watching its owner leave it behind— but then you turn to look at him, “Come on, then.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he drinks the rest of his soda in one big gulp, then follows around the bar to the door, trailing behind you. He looks around; it looks just as it always has. Even the wooden table; its leg that he’d had to repair after you’d both broken it. He remembers that night vividly; it was Valentine’s night, and you had to work. You’d been specifically in charge of locking up, and he’d come to take you home. You’d asked him to come in to help move some crates of bottles out to the curb, but when he came inside, you were waiting for him— completely naked, except for your black apron, which narrowly covered the front of you, while leaving your hips and the sides of your breasts exposed. You looked so beautiful that night; like a gift waiting to be unwrapped— and unwrap you, he did. He’d fucked you thrice in the span of two hours, and you’d left his jeans soaked in your climax.

“Mingi…?” Your voice snaps him out of his daze. “Hm?” “You okay?” “Yeah, just spaced out a bit, sorry,” He says, his cheeks turning red. “Do you just…wanna go across and get some pizza?” You ask, untying your apron and hanging it up on the coat hanger. “Yeah, pizza sounds good…”

The first few minutes at the table are quiet; a heavy silence between the two of you. You both look around every so often at the old pizzeria that always stayed open late. You’d eaten here together many times, but it somehow feels like a brand new experience. “Has the pizza always been this mid?” Mingi asks, finally breaking the silence. “Yeah,” You snort. “How hadn’t I noticed?” He asked. “Well, you were always wasted…I’m pretty sure I could’ve deep fried a leather shoe and you’d have enjoyed it.” “Right,” He chuckles, washing down the shitty pizza with a sip of water.

You keep eating, and he purses his lips, finally gathering the courage to say, “I saw that guy…the one who came to see you…” You tense slightly, slowing your chewing. Somehow, you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be— but you shouldn’t feel that way; Mingi’s not your boyfriend…not anymore. “You must’ve been sitting there a long time, then,” You gently dab at your lips with a napkin. He nods, “I was…” He plays with his own napkin absentmindedly, “He was handsome.” “Yeah, he is…treats me well, too,” You add. It stings to hear, but he just smiles softly, “I’m glad…you deserve to be treated well.” You’re quiet for a little, then add, “You do too, you know.” “I do…what?” “You deserve to be treated well, too.”

Your words hit his heart like a brick; for you, of all people, to say that to him…your kindness has always astounded him. “I…don’t know about deserving it…” He snorts bitterly. “You know,” You look at him, truly holding his gaze now; you want him to feel the weight of your words, “I would hate for all of this misery we’ve shared,” You motion between the both of you, “to have been in vain because you won’t stop torturing yourself.” “But if I stop torturing myself, then…I’ll have to let go…” His eyes fall to the tattoo peeking out from under the collar of your low-cut shirt; the tattoo you’d gotten of a little chick, because you always said it reminded you of him. He brings his eyes back up to yours, only now, you see they’re watering, “And I’m not ready to let you go.”

You sit across from him, heart racing in your chest. You hate how easily he lays himself bare before you. You wish he was the type to be closed off and secretive about his feelings— but he’s always been so expressive. You try to hold on to the image of Yunho, sleeping peacefully in his bed, in his apartment, completely unaware of your current whereabouts. If you just hold on to him, you won’t fall again…no matter how much you want to.

“Mingi…too much has transpired,” You say, though you can’t even convince yourself. You know he won’t buy it. “I know…trust me,” He leans back, his puffy lips jutting out slightly; what they always do when he’s feeling down. You chew on your bottom lip, then let your face fall into your hands as you let out a groan. He looks at you, a bit confused. “Why are you doing this to me, Mingi?” You say, still covering your eyes, “I was just starting to leave you behind…why couldn’t you stay in the past?” “I-” He feels genuinely guilty for causing you so much internal conflict, “I’m sorry…I didn’t think any of this through…I can…I can just leave you alone,” He says, though he, too, knows he’s a shit liar.

“I just don’t know why I’m even sitting here with you after everything that’s happened…” You say, finally letting go of your face and leaning back. He nods slowly, “I…I don’t know either.”

You walk back to the parking lot of the bar in silence, your footsteps falling in tandem with one another’s. When you get to your car, he shoves his hands in his pockets and steps back to give you space to open your door. “Do you…have a way home?” You ask. He nods and points to his car across the lot, “I do, actually.” You raise your brows, “You’re driving?” “Yeah,” He says sheepishly, “Been driving since I got out of the rehab center…now that I’m not drunk all the time, I can drive myself everywhere.” “Wow,” You smile softly, “That’s great…I’m proud of you.”

Hearing you say those words means so much more to him than you could possibly know. He nods and steps back a few more feet, “Have a…safe trip home.” You nod, grabbing the door handle and pulling it open— but just as you’re about to get inside, you stop yourself and turn back to him, “You know, I…” You look down, feeling your heart pound in your ears, “I still have a few things of yours that I never got rid of…I don’t know if you’re busy or tired or something, but if you want, you can come by right now and I- I can give them to you,” You try to sound casual, but it’s coming off as much more nervous than you intend.

He stares at you, his lips parting as his own heart flutters in his chest. Is he understanding you correctly? Are you…inviting him over? “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I can come over-” He clears his throat, “I mean, come by for- for my…stuff,” He nods. You chew your bottom lip and nod in response, “Okay…well, it’s…the same place.” He raises his brows, “The same place? Oh…wow. Okay, I’ll be right there.” You finally get in and start your car, and he waits there for you to pull off, watching you as you exit the parking lot before power-walking to his. The entire ride to the apartment, his mind is racing, as is yours. You both know, deep down, what the nature of this invitation is, despite how you both deny it.

After all, the longer you deny it, the longer you can stay like this; frozen in this feeling of familiar-newness. Not quite the same as before, but not quite different.

Not ready to jump back in, but still so unwilling to step away from the edge.

Here you go again; falling.

Pt.1 |

Summary: Back home from your year working abroad, you assume it’ll be business as usual— that is, until you meet your dad’s new farm hand, who’s ready to show you something sweeter than sugarcane

*Warning: Eventual smut(chapters will be labeled accordingly)

A/N: Story takes place in Mexico BUT remember that you can be any ethnicity and have been born in Mexico so don’t let it put you off from reading it! Will have some Spanish sprinkled in, but I will translate it. I'll also work on an entirely Spanish translation soon 🤎 *Footnotes w/ translations every few paragraphs + the full list of translations at the very bottom

"Quita las manos," Move your hands, Your mom hisses, slapping your hands away from your head with the comb. "¡¹Amá! You're yanking off my entire scalp!" You whimper, wincing at the sting. She's been yanking on your hair for the last five minutes, obsessing over the braid not being tight enough. When you'd asked her to help you do your hair for nostalgic reasons, it was only because you'd somehow forgotten how fucking aggressive she is with it. At this point, your hair is so tight, you're essentially getting a free fucking eye-lift.

"Aren't you a little old for mom to be doing your hair?" Jongho snorts, laying across the couch with his phone in his hands as he plays Call of Duty. "You lack so much self awareness," You sigh, rolling your eyes. "There," your mom says, a proud smile on her face as she rotates your head on your neck to examine her work from all sides, "I would've done better but you're such a cry baby." You stand up and try to slowly move your eyebrows, so as not to tear the baby hairs straight out of your head. You walk over to the big mirror hanging on the living room wall and look yourself over, raising your brows at the neatly parted, perfectly winding French braids along your hair; as much as it hurts you for her to braid your hair, you must admit, she's the best at it. You're gonna need it too, since your dad recruited you to help prep the field for planting the sugarcane.

1.) Amá: Informal way to address your mother. Similar to 'mom,' rather than "mother"

Pt.2 |

Summary: After a stint in rehab, your ex-boyfriend finds himself back at the bar you work at, wondering how things could’ve gone differently if only he hadn’t fucked it up.

*General Warnings: Smut. Substance abuse. Mingi is an ex-drug addict. Mentions of miscarriage.

*Chapter Warnings: Substance abuse.

He sits at the back of the room, just opposite the bar. His hood is low on his head, as far as it can go as he stares down into his rum and coke (hold the rum), chewing on his bottom lip; It’s only been a year and a half since he’d last been here, but it feels like ages ago that he sat right there, taking shot after shot of whatever strangers offered to give him…it feels like another life time entirely. He takes a sip, wincing slightly at the burn from the carbonation. He snorts softly at himself; to have gone from drowning himself in hard liquor to now wincing at a fucking glass of Coke…who’d have thought?

The door opens, letting in a streak of sunlight across the bar-sitters, and Mingi lifts his head slightly to see who it is, and just as he’d hoped; you walk in, your large tote slung over your shoulder as you greet the current bartender. When he sees you, it’s like a scene from a movie; in the distance, an auditory montage of your laugh and your every I love you. He quickly pulls his hood down further, leaving just a sliver of space to be able to stare at you discreetly; he wants a moment to remember you, to wonder how you’ve been— just a moment, before he bursts his own bubble by inevitably saying hello, and facing your wrath at the sight of him.

You’ve always been a headstrong girl; he admired you for it. It was what drew him to you— your confidence and your no-nonsense attitude…if only he’d been able to have valued you when he had you by his side; he was just too preoccupied with squeezing the life out of you while you were in the palm of his hand. That’s how the story always goes…not knowing what you have until it’s gone…

Mingi was the first nonsense you ever tolerated. When you first came into one another’s lives, falling into him was so irresistible. He was sweet and kind, playful and soft; there was nothing you didn’t love about him and it really felt like he could do no wrong…but, of course, what goes up must come down. It took two years to start seeing the cracks. He’d party a lot on the weekends, sure, but he’d always keep it chill during the week. You didn’t mind him going out; you were never the type of woman that needed to keep tabs on a man 24/7; after all, without trust, what else is left?

But the weekend partying started spilling into the week, until slowly, you started noticing the constant smell of alcohol on his breath. It wasn’t always strong; it was a smell that lingered on him when he’d kiss you, when he’d laugh with you, when he’d make love to you. You’ve always been a casual drinker, but it got to a point where you didn’t even want to go near it because the smell alone was making you sick. You were tired of that horrible fucking smell— but you tolerated it, explained it away as work-stress, anxiety about x thing…

It wasn’t until you found the pills that you finally said something. How you found them was so cliche too, which pisses you off even more every time you think about it. You’d been folding laundry, you dropped a pair of balled up socks on the floor, which rolled under the bed. When you’d bent down to grab them, lo and behold, pills: not just one bottle of pills— a box full of them. Everything from oxycodone, percocets, Xanax; all prescribed to a totally different name. You remember that feeling; the taste of metal in your mouth, the way your heart dropped into your stomach. You thought you’d be sick…

“Y/n, bring in a new case of Heinekens, will you?” Calls out the bartender. A few minutes later, you walk out, apron tied around your waist as you carry out two cases of beers. It looks heavy; it makes Mingi want to run and help you— but he doesn’t. He stays absolutely still, so as not to draw attention to himself. Every time he pictures seeing you again after so long, he imagines it differently; sometimes you yell at him and curse him out, some days you ignore him and treat him like a stranger…on days when he lets himself hope, you run into his arms and tell him how much you’ve missed him and how you’re willing to give him another chance…he doesn’t have many hopeful days though.

About an hour goes by, and it’s around 7PM. Patrons have come and gone, and it’s a lot more crowded now than it was when Mingi first got there; people coming for happy hour or pre-gaming for a long night. At this point, Mingi’s soda is mostly water, as the ice had melted long ago. The entire time, you’re blissfully unaware of his presence, as your focus is on cleaning up behind the previous bartender, who’d clocked out about fifteen minutes after you’d arrived. It’s sad how many times he’s seen you behind that bar, smiling and chatting with customers, but he was always too fucking wasted to realize how beautiful you looked doing it.

Mingi taps his fingers against his glass, his heart rate picking up as he begins trying to summon the courage to approach you. He breathes in deeply and begins shifting his body to get up— until he sees the door open again. In walks a tall, handsome looking guy; pretty enough to be an idol, even. He’s about 6 feet, maybe a bit more, slim-build with dark hair that falls in his eyes a bit. At first, Mingi assumes he’s just another customer, but then he sees your face when you look realize he’s walked in; a big smile spreads across your face as you walk over to them end of the bar, where the stranger is standing there, already leaning in to give you a kiss.

Many people don’t know this, but heartbreak is physical: it’s pounding. Pounding in your chest, pounding in your ears, pounding even in your fingertips. You felt it when you found the pills, and it wouldn’t go away until the day you kicked Mingi out…and even then, it took so long to finally stop feeling it. You spent so long trying to dig yourself out of the emotional hole Mingi had left you in…even now, you’re not always sure you’ve climbed out yet. They say healing is not linear, so you try not to think too deeply on days when the pounding is worse than other days.

Yunho helps. He’s sweet; like a ray of sunshine. He’s like…the embodiment of the color yellow. You first met him at the grocery store while you tried to pick a watermelon. You were knocking on one in particular, thinking it may be a good pick— only you couldn’t remember if it was good or bad for it to sound hollow. He’d immediately stepped in and walked you through choosing the best one. It was funny, really. You’d met him on a bad day— one where you’d gone to bed thinking of Mingi and woke up still thinking of him…and missed him terribly. But as Yunho went on and on about such a mundane, trivial thing, you found that your mind finally went quiet. Radio silence. He walked around the rest of the store with you, chatting about this and that— and when you’d both paid for your own things, he walked you to your car and asked for your number; you hadn’t dated anyone new in years, and seven months after you ended things with Mingi, you found yourself actually wondering if it was possible—

If you could really, finally move on from him.

Mingi sits there, frozen as he looks on. He knows he has no right to feel what he’s feeling now. Had he not screwed it all up, that’d have been Mingi there, sitting down at the bar, catching up with you after a long day of work. You’d have been laughing at Mingi’s jokes, gently reaching over and ruffling Mingi’s hair. His heart hurts; like flames engulfing him alive. He can’t watch any more, but he also can’t leave, so he just looks back down at his cup, wishing for some godly miracle that turns his watered down coke into whisky.

Yunho leaves not long after having gotten here, as he only stopped by for a quick drink and to say hi before going home; he’d had a long day at work but said he wouldn’t be able to sleep well without seeing you at least once. “I love you,” He said with a warm smile before he left, to which you responded with a smile of your own, and a sweet goodbye-kiss. He’d told you he loved you about two months in to the relationship; it was soon, and he had no expectations of you reciprocating that depth of emotion for him so quickly into dating, especially given your trauma from your previous relationship. He assured you he’s a patient man, and wouldn’t rush you, but you feel guilty not saying it back…though you also know you’d just feel worse if you lied to him.

After he left, the bar slowed down a bit, with hoards of people having left to continue their bar crawls. The only ones left now are the usuals— except one in the far back, who you’ve only just noticed sitting there. Had he been there the whole time? You furrow your brows, glancing down at his cup, which is translucent, as though it was mostly water. You tilt your head, staring at this person for a little longer, trying to catch a glimpse of his face but being unable to because of his hood. After a moment though, you get a certain feeling in the pit of your stomach; one you haven’t felt in a long time. A sense of familiarity as you take in the silhouette of this stranger.

“M-Mingi?”

Mingi’s entire body tenses, and his head instinctively snaps up at the sound of his name on your tongue. He can’t even speak when he meets your gaze; he just looks up at you like a lost dog, unsure of what to do now that there’s absolutely nowhere

for him to hide from you any longer.

Pt.2 |

Summary: Back home from your year working abroad, you assume it’ll be business as usual— that is, until you meet your dad’s new farm hand, who’s ready to show you something sweeter than sugarcane

*Warning: Eventual smut(chapters will be labeled accordingly)

A/N: Story takes place in Mexico BUT remember that you can be any ethnicity and have been born in Mexico so don’t let it put you off from reading it! Will have some Spanish sprinkled in, but I will translate it. I'll also work on an entirely Spanish translation soon 🤎 *Footnotes w/ translations every few paragraphs + the full list of translations at the very bottom

“You didn’t take the chickens out this morning. Dad’s mad,” Jongho says, leaning against your doorframe, already looking annoyed from having gotten an earful from your father. You groan into your pillow, “My first morning back in a year and he still expects me to do my fucking chores.” “Well, you are still part of this family, aren’t you?” Your dad comes up behind Jongho, and Jongho takes it as his cue to get lost.

“Dad. It’s 6 in the morning, for the love of God, let me sleep,” You beg, pulling the covers over your head. His old, tire-sole ¹huaraches tap against the tile as he walks over to your bed and yanks your blanket off. “Get up. I’m gonna need you to help me load truck so we can go into the market.” “Ugh, why can’t you be like others girls’ dads and make the boys do the heavy lifting?” You whine. “Well, you’re the big feminist, aren’t you? I wouldn’t want my ²machismo to get in the way of your female independence,” He snorts sarcastically, “Andale, let’s go.”

1.) Huaraches: Sandal. Traditional Mexican huaraches are usually made of leather, often with soles made of old tire. 2.)Machismo: societal norm of men being dominant and superior to women.

Seonghwa | Hongjoong | Yunho | Yeosang

Prompt: You’re best friends with (ATEEZ member) and are in need of a little no-strings loving; could he be the one to help with that?

Warning: Smut (obviously, hello)

A/n: This is gonna be a bunch of parts (one for each member) and I will be uploading in installments. Okay bye <3.

5.) Choi San

You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, wiping the fog off of the glass to better see yourself. It was a hair wash day, so you're getting ready to go about your hair routine, when your realize that, once again, San used your fucking blow dryer in his room and didn't return it. "Fucking asshole," You mutter, getting ready to tear into him. You hate when he gets into your things and doesn't put them back.

You huff as you rush out of the bathroom, your sweats dragging along the floor-- mostly because they're actually his sweats but hopefully he won't recognize them. Without a moment's hesitation, you barge into his room. When you do, it takes you a second to understand what you're looking at, but when it clicks, you're both mortified, staring back at one another; why? Because you just walked in on San fully masturbating in front of his computer, which is currently set to a porno. You stand there for a moment, absolutely stunned, while he's hunched over, trying to cover himself, "What the fuck!?" He yells. "I-uhm-" You stutter before coming back to your senses, "Put my blowdryer back!" You squeal before quickly shutting the door and running down the hall to your room; hair routine be damned.

You sit in your desk chair, biting your nail as you replay the image in your head over and over again. It was only a brief moment, but you still managed to get a small hint of an image. After about a minute, there’s a soft knock at your door, followed by San’s unusually timid voice. “Y/n…can I come in?” Your eyes widen at the closed door, and you try to regulate yourself so you don’t freak out in front of him. What he was doing was natural; no big deal. No big deal at all…well, from what you could tell it was kinda big— “Come in.”

The door opens, and he comes in about halfway, looking like a child ready to be scolded. “Y-yeah?” You’re trying to sound casual. “Did you…did you see everything?” He asks. “Define…everything?” You say, wincing a bit. He lets his forehead thud against the door as he groans, “You did, didn’t you? Oh, God.” Immediately, you go into clean up mode, putting your hands up as if to try to stop his meltdown, “It-it’s okay, San. No big deal. It’s-it’s natural.” “Gosh, shut up,” He throws his head back, whining at the ceiling. “I hardly even saw anything, San. You kinda…hunched over just in time.” He looks at you, unsure of whether or not to trust your word. He narrows his eyes, “Promise?” He asks. “I promise,” You say, putting your hand on your heart.

He exhales, “Alright…you gotta stop barging in like that. It’s unprofessional.” He says this while simultaneously walking over to your bed and flopping backward onto it. “Then stop taking my blow dryer,” You roll your eyes. He stares up at the ceiling, still thinking about the situation. “I can’t believe that happened…” “It’s not that serious; we live together, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” He sighs again, “I guess…thankfully you didn’t see anything. You’re basically the only one in our friend group that hasn’t seen it.” You pause, furrowing your brows, “I’m the only one?” “Yeah.” “Even Hongjoong?” “Yep” “Even Jongho?” “Yeah, even Jongho.” Before, you were mortified about having walked in on him, but now you feel almost offended.

Your brows stay scrunched together, and it’s clear by your expression that you’re annoyed. San looks at you, noting the change, “What? What’s wrong?” “Why am I the only one?” “Huh?” “Why am I the only one who hasn’t seen it?” You huff. He stares at you incredulously, “You mean why are you the only one who hasn’t seen my dick?” “Yeah,” You fold your arms on your chest, “Am I not your best friend?” “Of course you are, but what does that have to do with it?” “It has everything to do with it!” “So, just because you’re my best friend, that means I’ve gotta show you what’s in my pants? You haven’t shown me your vagina. Should I be offended?” He asks, rolling his neck at you.

“First of all,” You hold up a finger, “Don’t say vagina. It’s aggressive. Second of all, that’s different; no one in our friend group has seen mine, so it’s not like you’re being left out. I’m being left out.” He leans forward and puts his face in his hands exasperatedly, “There’s no way this is a real conversation we’re having.” He narrows his eyes at you, genuinely wondering if you’re in your right mind. “So, what’s your point?” He asks. “My point is it’s not the same thing.” “You’re insane— there’s no way you’re reading that much into something so trivial,” He laughs at you. “Fine. The situation is make believe. Go back to your room and finish jerking off. Matter of fact, why don’t you FaceTime Jongho while you do it, seeing as how he’s seen it already.” San rolls his eyes, “You’re being ridiculous.” “Maybe I am,” You spin around in your desk chair and turn your attention toward your computer screen. He sighs, staring at the back of your head for a moment while he thinks.

Admittedly, he finds the conversation kind of funny because of how asinine it is, and contrary to what he shows externally, he always finds it kinda cute when you get pouty like this— he also can’t stand when you give him the cold shoulder; he needs the attention like he needs air. He forcefully drags your desk chair backwards and spins you around faster than you can react, and he holds the chair there so you can’t spin. “Fine. I’ll show you.” Your eyes light up, “You will?” “On one condition,” He leans back, finally letting go of the chair. “Alright, go ahead. Name it.” “You have to show me something too.” You stare at him for a second, processing what he’s saying. “Show you…something on my body?” “Mhm.” He raises a brow at you, wondering if you’ll agree. You swallow, “Fine. You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” “Nuh-uh. Not so fast. You’ve been known not to keep your word; you show me yours first and then I’ll show you mine.” Your mouth hangs open, “What!? No way.” “Then, no deal,” he lifts his hands as though throwing in the towel.

After a second, you finally concede. “Ugh, fine,” You stand up, “Swear you’ll show me right after?” “I swear,” he holds out his pinky to reassure you. You hook yours with his and then let go, scooting backward a bit and bringing your hands to the waistband of your (technically his) sweats. You stand there like that for a second, feeling butterflies dart all around inside your stomach. Its easy. Just do it. Don’t be a pussy, you think, trying to hype yourself up. He watches intently, genuinely wondering if you’ll go through with it or chicken out at the last second. You can tell he doesn’t think you’ll do it; time to prove him wrong.

You suddenly spin around so your back is to him, then you yank the pants down to your knees and bend over, exposing your (thankfully) freshly waxed pussy and ass. You stand like this for a good ten seconds, “Get a good look because this is the only time you’re ever gonna see this,” You say in a strained voice. San, on the other hand, is stunned to absolute silence as he stares at your heat. His eyes trace your lines and folds, mapping it out and committing it to memory, because the truth is— it’s a pretty nice view. Finally, you stand upright and bring the sweats back up. You can’t explain it, but you almost feel a rush from having done something so…abnormally daring. Sure, it’s not skydiving or bungee jumping, but this is about as adrenaline inducing as you’ll get.

When you turn around, you’re met with an uncharacteristically quiet San. “Okay, your turn.” “Mm?” “It’s your turn to show.” “Sh-show you mine? Uhm…how about a little later? I’m kinda tired—” “No way. No way are you getting away with not showing me after I showed you mine,” You huff. He winces at your annoyance, and he finally sighs, “Fine…I’ll show.” You stand there, staring down at him as he very very slowly slides his sweats and underwear down. At first, all you can see is his upper pelvic area, but as he goes lower, you can see where the v-line begins to narrow, until the pants are all the way down to his mid-thigh. Finally, his dick springs upward, no longer being held down by the pants. Now you see that he’s not only big (as you’d already kind of gathered), but he’s currently hard as a fucking rock.

You sit there, eyes wide as you look. You must admit; it’s a nice looking cock. Slightly darker than his skin, pink tip, nice length and thickness. You’re suddenly watering slightly at the mouth. Little by little, his entire face is turning more and more red. After about five seconds, he finally musters the courage to look at you as you look down at his *ahem* private area. You don’t look disgusted or horrified like he half expected you to look; instead, your expression is that of…curiosity? Intrigue? “Okay, that’s enough,” He blurts, quickly putting his sweats back up. You look up at him, “You’re hard.” “Hard? Huh?” He looks away, trying to play it off. “You are. Did I- Did I make you hard?” You ask, tilting your head. “No.” “Yes, I did, you liar.” “No, you didn’t. I was…still hard, from…from earlier,” He juts out his bottom lip. Who is he kidding? He wouldn’t even believe himself.

You narrow your eyes at him, a coy smile playing on your face as you prepare to tease the ever living shit out of him. “Admit it, I made you hard.” “You’re so annoying,” He rolls his eyes, resting his hand on his crotch to hide the erection that, for some reason, refuses to go away. You stand up, already laughing as you walk toward him, “I may be annoying but I made you hard.” He puts his hands up, already knowing what you’re gearing up to do. “Stay back,” He warns, though it’s got not bite in it at all. “Come on, San-i. Stop denying it,” You also put your hands up, though you’re readying to playfully attack him. “Y/n,” He warns, though the corners of his mouth are already starting to curl upward. “Admit it in 3….” “Y/n!” “2…” “NO!” “ONE!” You yell before lunging at him, making him topple backwards.

He’s physically way stronger than you, but you’re at an advantage since you’re on top. You try to pin his hands but he manages to wiggle out of your grip, thrusting upward to make you fall forward— though he overestimates how hard he needs to thrust, as you fall a bit too high, your boobs smothering him. “Agh! You asshole,” You laugh. He’s struggling under you, until you finally manage to lift yourself and scoot back to your original position— only this time, you fully feel his boner poking you. Your eyes widen again, and you suddenly freeze. He’s holding onto your wrists, though he also freezes when he sees your face.

You both stay like that for a second, neither of you moving. You look down at him, noting how he’s looking up at you; his face isn’t as red as before, but he does have a faint blush across his nose. His jet black hair is parted down the middle, falling lightly on his forehead. His glasses are pushed down his nose, and his cock is stabbing against your clothed crotch; the only difference now is that you are, begrudgingly, undeniably wet. You swallow hard, “San…” “Yeah?” He asks, eyes still stuck on yours like he’s waiting to be scolded for involuntarily being bricked up. “You- you still hard?” “Yeah…” “Me too.” “You’re hard?” He jokes, though even he can’t laugh right now. “I-I mean…” You trail off, unable to find the words.

Magnetic; that’s how it feels right now. Unable to move away from him, no matter how many sirens and whistles are sounding in your head to tell you to get off of him. He feels it too; an attraction that he’s never felt before, not for anyone. Somehow, you find your pelvis subconsciously beginning to press down, wanting more pressure. “Y/n…what are you doing?” His voice is low; like he’s afraid someone might hear, even though you’re the only ones in your shared apartment. “I- I don’t know,” You immediately lift up a few inches off of him, “Should I stop?” “No.” His answer is quick— far too quick; like he had it on the tip of his tongue all along. Wordlessly, you lower yourself again, and you begin slowly moving back and forth. The tip of his cock is wedged between your heat and his pelvis, being rolled back and forth along with your hips. His jaw hangs slightly as he cranes his neck down to watch where your pelvises meet. Even just like this, it already feels good. Slowly, he lets go of your wrists, and you lean back, still grinding down.

You're not even sure what you're doing; you're just moving on instinct. He looks up at you, unsure of whether or not to touch you, but a little hesitant to ask if he can. It isn't until he hears a little moan escape you that he gets the courage to put his hands on your hips, guiding you a little. You look down at his flushed face; it fills you with so much need. "Should- should I take off my top?" You ask. He nods, "If- if you're comfortable..." He says, trying not to sound too pushy.

You immediately grab hold of the hem of your tee and scrunch it upward so it sits just above your boobs, which are completely bare, as you usually never wear a bra for bed (which was what you'd initially planned on doing). His breath catches completely at the sight of your beautiful breasts. Without so much as a second thought, one of his hands lets go of your hip and comes up to hold one of your boobs. You bite down on your bottom lip as he grazes one of your nipples with his thumb, moving it side to side. "Is this okay?" He asks, meeting your gaze again. "Yeah..." You suddenly lean forward, planting your hands flat on his chest as you continue.

Your breasts are now pretty much at his face, and he wants desperately to take your nipple into his mouth, but he’s still so hesitant; even with your grinding your clothed pussy on him, he’s wondering how far you actually want to go. “Y/n,” He says in a strained voice, gently resting a hand on your side to still your movement. You immediately stop and look down at him. “I- I don’t mean to be a party pooper or anything but can we talk a second?” He asks, meeting your eyes, one brow corked upward in that pretty way he tends to do. You blink, a bit taken aback by him stopping you, but you immediately get off of him and take a seat at the head of your head, “Yeah, what- what’s wrong?”

He sits up, trying to cover himself a little bit to not distract from the seriousness of the conversation. You also pull your shirt down and cross your legs. He’s noticeably blushing as he searches his mind for the right words, “Uhm…what- what are we…what are we doing?” He has to laugh at the end, finding himself at a bit of a loss for words, given the current predicament. “What do you mean?” You ask, tilting your head. “I mean…are we…like…going all the way? Or just…a little messing around? I just wanna know what to expect, you know?” He leans his head forward to try to meet your gaze, which is currently on your own hands as you fiddle with your thumbs. “I don’t know…I was just gonna go with it, I guess…” You say nervously, suddenly insecure in your own decision making.

He looks at you for a little while, then clears his throat, “Maybe we should just…cool off for a second.” You sit there, feeling suddenly pretty vulnerable— like maybe you’d read the signs wrong. It all happened so fast, you start to feel a little crazy. Shit, what were you gonna do? You give a nervous laugh of your own, “You know what, why don’t we just…pretend this never happened, huh? We were just getting carried away. It…it happens,”You look away, panicking slightly. He raises his brows in surprise; he’d meant for you both to take lay out some ground rules or talk about your boundaries— not that he wanted to stop; of course, he’d never fight you on something you don’t seem to want to do. “Alright, yeah…” He scratches the back of his head for a second, thinking about how to proceed.

“Alright, well. Best get ready for bed. Mustn’t be late for work,” You say, holding up an index finger as you put on the worst British accent in the world; you don’t even know why— you’re just internally freaking out. He immediately stands up, “Right, yeah. Uhm…okay, good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walks toward the door, putting his hand on the doorknob to let himself out; for a moment, it looks like he might say something— but after a few seconds, he leaves, shutting the door behind himself. You sit there, in disbelief about what was most definitely about to happen, with none other than your best friend of the last 10 years.

It’s been a week since the whole ordeal between you and San, and things are seemingly back to normal. It’s truly strange just how normal it’s been— like it really never happened at all. You eat together, laugh, go on about your day as though not a thing in the world could be wrong between the two of you.

But in the privacy of your head? You’ve been a mess. Much to your dismay, you’ve been thinking about that moment every single night for the past week. The way his body felt under yours— and God, the way he touched you. You’ve internally scolded yourself a million times, but the reality is, you wanna feel it again. He, on the other hand, seems perfectly fine. It bugs you, really. He saw your pussy, let you fucking dry hump him, and then has the audacity to greet you with that derpy little smile every fucking morning like what happened was just some every day occurrence? You feel like you’re going insane.

San has jacked off to the memory of that night, almost every night since— although, he’s absolutely certain he locks his bedroom door beforehand. It’s like that event triggered something within him for you that he didn’t even know existed; sure, he’s always loved you as his best friend, and he still does— but what he’s never done before now? Fantasized about fucking the absolute shit out of you until you’re absolutely wrecked. It makes him feel dirty, imagining you, his best friend, bouncing on his cock— but what can he do? He’s only a man. He just doesn’t understand how you’re able to keep it together so well. Do you even see it as having been such a big deal the way he does? He was ready to rail you that night if you’d only asked him to and it looked like you wanted him to…but then you said to pretend it never happened. You’re so confusing.

San stands at the grill, absentmindedly grilling the mound of meat you’d bought at the store earlier for tonight’s bbq. The guys and their respective partners all came over, and now you and San are playing host. You bring out the drinks in the cooler, and everyone is sipping, laughing, and talking. For the first time in seven days, you find yourself truly relaxing. After a little while, you’re all a tiny buzzed— nothing too major; just something light to get the mood going. “You think you can do better? Alright, try it,” Wooyoung says defensively. Jongho rolls his eyes, “I would but you might cry of jealousy.” “Psh, he doesn’t knows how to do it,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “I do too know how to do a cartwheel,” Jongho hisses. “Please don’t— you’ll hit the grill,” You sigh, standing up to go grab the meat you already saw San putting on a plate.

You gently rest your hand on his back— something you always do— and he instantly tenses under your touch; you don’t notice. “Is this meat good to go?” You ask. His eyes widen at your question, but when he sees you lift the aluminum foil off the tray to inspect it, he realizes you’re trying to confirm it was the tray of cooked meat instead of the raw meat. “Y-yeah, that’s all good to go,” He says, giving you a nod. “Great,” You say, eyes bright at the prospect of finally getting to eat. You grab the tray and take it to the table. San looks down at his t-shirt, realizing it’s been stained with grease drops, “Ah shit,” He mutters to himself.

“Food’s done!” You exclaim. Everyone cheers and begins reaching to grab the pieces they want. You, on the other hand, go inside to get the rice you’d left in the rice cooker. You dump the rice into a large bowl, softly humming to yourself. You then put the bowl aside and grab the cupcakes you’d made earlier from the fridge. You’re getting ready to carry the tray of cupcakes when you hear San’s bedroom door open. “San?” You call out, not realizing he was even inside the house. “Yeah?” He asks, walking into the kitchen.

You turn to ask him something, but stop mid-sentence when you see him standing there, topless and looking absolutely delectable. You freeze, staring at him for a moment— though it feels like a solid 10 minutes. It’s not like you’ve never seen the man shirtless before, and it’s not like you never knew your best friend was attractive— but given the already hard time you’ve been having all week in regards to wanting to fuck him, the feeling in your stomach at the sight is quite overwhelming.

You blink, then immediately turn back around, “Why are you naked?” You ask, your brain short circuiting. “I’m not naked. I just came in to change my shirt,” He says, pulling the new tee-shirt over his head. He comes up behind you, his chest grazing your shoulder, “Oh, those look good,” Before you can react, he’s reaching around and, with two fingers, scooping icing off one of the cupcakes, then bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick it off. You watch as though in a trance; everything is slow motion, and you can almost see a filter of sparkles all over him like you’re in a fucking romcom or something. You tear your eyes away and move away from him, “Stop being gross. Grab the rice,” You nod toward the bowl of rice and immediately walk outside to rejoin the group.

As the night progresses, you fall back into the same relaxed ambience as before; the drinks are still flowing, the meat is still being worked through. Suddenly, Mingi stands up, “I think we should play a game!” “What did you have in mind?” You ask, leaning back in your seat. “How about…truth or dare?” Mingi asks, a menacing look on his face. “Truth or dare? What are we, ten?” Hongjoong snorts. “Hey, truth or dare is a classic game. You’re never too old for it,” Mingi pouts. “Alright, alright. Fine. Let’s play,” You laugh, “but we’re putting money on anyone who doesn’t fulfill their truth or dare!” You say, raising your glass, to which everyone responds by doing the same.

You’re a round in, and everyone is having fun. Hongjoong licked Mingi’s elbow, Jongho admitted to not knowing how to do a cartwheel, and Seonghwa had to give Wooyoung a kiss on the cheek. Of course, some of the truths and dares were a bit too mundane for mentioning. “Okay, Y/n. Truth or dare?” Yeosang asks. You purse your lips, thinking about it, “Hm…well, I did dare last time. I’ll go with truth,” You smile, bouncing your leg in anticipation. “Okay,” Yeosang’s sweet face suddenly turns coy, a dark smile as he asks, “Is it true that you and San have never messed around before?” Silence falls upon the entire group. Everyone leans in, anxious to hear your answer, meanwhile, you’re completely tensed, side-glancing at San, who seems equally as uncomfortable as you.

“I-” It’s too obvious of a lie if you deny it, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the truth either. Wooyoung’s eyes widen, “Oh my gosh—” “You haven’t!” Seonghwa covers his mouth in disbelief. Yunho and Jongho are both laughing their asses off in the corner. “I’ll pay the money,” You blurt out. Everyone begins clapping and laughing; everyone but you and San, who are awkwardly passing nervous glances between one another. Yeosang is bright red, not having expected your answer, and he actually looks a little guilty for having asked, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were gonna answer like that.” “I- I didn’t even answer,” You look away, laughing awkwardly along. “Okay, okay. Let’s stop torturing her,” Seonghwa says, “Let’s move on. Okay, San, your turn: truth or dare?” “Dare,” San says, relieved at Seonghwa changing the subject. “Okay…I dare you,” Seonghwa looks between the both of you, “to kiss Y/n!” Another round of laughter and clapping.

You and San have long been a highly debated subject in your friend group. From the beginning, people couldn’t understand or believe that a man and a woman could be completely platonic friends. You both had always maintained that it could be done…but now here you are, in front of all your friends, possibly about to kiss a week post having almost had sex. San turns to you, mouth agape as he gauges how you might react. You furrow your brows, glancing at him. Is he actually thinking about it? In front of everyone? They all watch intently, wondering the same as you— that is, until he finally clears his throat, grabbing his wallet out of his pocket and throwing down a twenty, “Mine and her half,” He exhales. They all boo, still laughing.

“He’s too chicken,” Hongjoong says with a smirk. “You gonna let him say that about you?” Jongho asks, throwing an arm around San’s shoulders. “Or he could just not be attracted to her?” Seonghwa shrugs, “Sometimes that happens when people have been friends too long.” “You still attracted to me even after all these years of friendship?” Wooyoung teases Hongjoong, who makes a clear show of disgust, “You’re intolerable.” They tease for a little longer, though eventually, they all move on to torture Mingi, who’s seated next to San. San, however, remains quiet— his head crowded, and heart sinking.

After about another hour or so, everyone helped clean up, and then went on their merry way, leaving you and San washing dishes. You’re both quiet— uncharacteristically so, and neither of you can bring yourselves to say anything more than simple commands about finishing up the cleaning. You keep replaying his face earlier, when he’d been dared to kiss you.

It’s not that you wanted him to kiss you in front of everyone— but could they have been right about the reasoning? Until this week, you’d never had the desire to be kissed by San, and now, it’s all you can think about. What a fucking confusing week it’s been. “Hey,” San finally speaks up, placing the last dish in the rack to dry. You turn to him, plates in your hand that you’d wiped to put away, “Mm?” “Are we good?” He asks. It’s a simple question, but it holds a lot of weight, and you both know it. When you don’t answer, he presses a bit, “I mean like…the truth or dare, the…incident, from the other night…are we okay?” “Y-yeah, of course,” You say, forcing a casual tone, “We’re totally fine. I mean, it was just them being dumb,” You turn to put the dishes away, “And besides, it’s not like it…hurt my feelings or anything that you didn’t wanna kiss me.”

Your words hang in the air for a long time— so long, you hesitate to turn around, even after you’ve put away the last of the dishes in your hand. “Is that what you think?” He finally asks, his voice low and gentle. “What?” You finally turn, and when you do, he takes a few steps forward, until he’s standing right in front of you, your neck craning upward to look at him. Your heart feels like it wants out of your chest this very instant. He looks down at you, his eyes so intense, his brows corked a bit, “You think I didn’t kiss you because I didn’t want to?” You’re stunned into silence, suddenly so unable to think.

He leans forward a bit, and your body instinctively goes to move back, only there’s no space to back into, as the counter is now digging a bit into your back. His arms come up to rest on the counter, caging you in even more. “Y/n…” He says your name so deliciously; like honey dripping from his lips. “Y-yes?” You ask, breath catching. “That night, I would’ve…” He trails off, wondering whether or not to just bite his tongue. “You would’ve…what?” You ask, your voice small and desperate. The way you’re looking at him, like you want him to say it just as much as he wants to do it, “I would’ve made love to you if you’d have asked me to.” Finally. He admits to it. Your mouth moves before you can stop it, “Then why didn’t you?” “Because, I didn’t know that you wanted it as much as I did,” He says, his eyes falling to your lips. “Well, now you know I do…now what happens?” You ask, your eyes also landing on his lips.

Without another moment’s thought, he leans in, kissing you so gently; diligently exploring the flavor of your lips. He lets go of the counter, placing one hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You kiss him back, your hand coming up to his face, holding him in place as you savor his tongue. Your mind is finally quiet; you, him, in this house that you’ve shared for three years without incident. You stand there, making out for a bit before he pulls away, “Come…” He says, gently grabbing your hand and beginning to pull you toward through the kitchen and down the hall to his room.

You’ve been in here more times than you can count; everything is just the same as always, only now, everything feels somehow magnified; the lingering smell of his cologne, the cool breeze that’s always blowing through the cracked window. As soon as you’re inside, he closes the door. The room is quiet, save for some crickets somewhere outside. Slowly, he approaches from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his face nuzzling into your neck as he plants soft kisses along the length of it. You tilt your head to give him easier access. Everything about him is warm; his breath on your neck, his fingers grazing your stomach under your blouse— his broad chest against your back… “Things will be the same after we’re done, right?” You ask breathlessly, “We’re still friends right?” You ask. He kisses your shoulder, “Of course…” his fingers dig softly into your soft skin, “always.” Every kiss is like a promise, affirming his words and reassuring you; nothing will change.

This time, you take his hand, turning slowly to face him, and then walking backwards to lead him to his bed. Like a loyal dog, he follows your wordless command, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it the entire way there. You don’t even have a chance to lay down, yourself, because as soon as you’re in proximity to the bed, he’s pushing you backwards with his body, the both of you landing with a soft thud against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, and he swallows it with his hungry mouth. His enormous hands move from your side, to your waist, and to your hip, clenching just hard enough to where you feel his need for you. “San,” You sigh softly as he kisses your neck again, though this time, he sucks gently. You snake your hands around his waist, pushing up his shirt. Your nails gently scratch against his skin, and it drives him wild.

Hit stops kissing you and sits up, his legs straddling you. He’s so shameless as he locks eyes with you, pulling his shirt up by the collar and taking it off completely, revealing that amazing torso for the second time tonight. Without missing a beat, you sit up and begin covering his chest in a series of kisses and licks. He’s so beautiful— like a marble statue. He breathes heavily at the sensation of your mouth on his sensitive chest, and when you flit your tongue out against his nipple, he tangles his hand into your hair. “I love how you touch me,” He whispers, and it sends chills down your spine. You continue on his chest with your mouth, but your hands are already impatient for more, and he doesn’t stop you, because he wants more too. You undo the button on his pants, “Take them off already,” You beg.

He crawls off of you, standing up and shoving his pants and his underwear down— and there it is again; that enormous cock that started this entire thing. If it weren’t for that fateful night, you wouldn’t be in this situation at all. “Lay down,” you say, gently tugging on his wrist, to which he responds by giving you a kiss and laying down next to you. He goes to try to take you in his arms again, but you shake your head, “Just give me a second.” You move down until your face is eye-level with his length. His eyes widen at the sight of you so close to where he wants you most. Your eyes flicker to his, and when you see how full of need he is, you can’t help but want to aid in his relief. You grab his cock by the base, marveling at how your freshly manicured hand fits around it. It’s thick and so deliciously wet at the tip.

He watches you slowly lower your lips to kiss his tip, and you feel it twitch in your hand. “You’re so excited,” You giggle, to which he responds with a laugh of his own, “I mean, I’ve only thought about this all week.” “All week?” You ask, licking at the tip. He groans, “Yes.” “Did you jack off to the thought?” You ask, half joking. “Yes,” He admits, biting down on his bottom lip as you give it another lick. You’re surprised at his confession, and it makes you blush, “Did you think of my mouth?” “Yeah…” “How about my pussy…did you think of that too?” You ask, arching a brow at him as you pump his cock slowly. He nods, “I did.” His answer makes your core moisten all the more, already begging to be stuffed— but you need a little taste first.

Suddenly, you take his tip fully in your mouth, and he instantly groans in pleasure, letting his head fall back. “Mm…” You moan around his cock. “Yes…fuck,” He whispers. Your mouth is so warm and tight around him, he can hardly stand the urge to grab hold of your face and thrust to his heart’s content. He fists the sheets, forcing himself to stay planted on the mattress as you bob your head up and down on him. “Shit, Y/n…use your tongue,” He breathes, to which you comply. You begin to add a little suction as you go down, your mouth beginning to salivate excessively. Every now and then when you come back up to his tip, you let your tongue tease at the spot just on the underside, letting your tongue feel the ridge. “Shit,” He moans, contorting his face in a way that should make him look ugly, but really just serves to make him all that much more attractive.

You repeat this for a while before his hips begin moving of their own accord. “Fuck, Y/n— I’m gonna cum,” He warns. “Then cum,” You say breathlessly as you pull away briefly from his cock. “No, I- I wanna keep—” He can’t even finish his sentence before his orgasm is taking over. You sense it and immediately lift your blouse all the way, just in time to let him cum all over your breasts. His mouth falls open at the sight, finding you so gorgeous right now, covered in his climax. You think he might need a moment of recovery, but you’re absolutely wrong. Refueled by the sinful image of you with your cock in his mouth, he grabs you by your waist and flips you so you’re now under him. He pins your hands against the mattress, attacking your neck with his tongue, his bare cock, still covered in cum, dragging along your clothed crotch. He pulls away only to yank your pants down, eager to touch that warm pussy he got to see but didn’t get to experience the other night.

You feel butterflies in your stomach at the sensation of the cool air in the room now hitting your bare legs. He doesn’t stop kissing you, but he does part your legs with his knee, letting it graze your sensitive pussy. “Oh fuck,” You whisper, the sudden pressure against your clit feeling like a taste of sweet relief. He adjusts so he’s laying flush against you, not yet in a hurry to fuck you; he wants to explore your body. You, however, have had enough waiting. You wrap your legs around him, holding him there for a second, “San, please…don’t make me wait any longer,” You whisper. He melts at your words; he’s not used to women begging for it. He nods, kissing you once more, “Okay, I won’t,” He reaches down and spreads your legs a little wider, then settles between them, his cock in his hand, ready to guide himself inside you.

It takes a moment, but when his tip grazes your clit, you get so excited. Slowly, he inserts himself into your soft, wet cunt. “Ahh,” You breathe out as you feel his thick cock stretching you to your limit, “San,” You moan, “you’re so big.” He blushes at your praise; he’s always loved being complimented for his size, and hearing it from you is like music to his ears. He goes slow, relishing in every delicious sound you make. “Right there,” You shut your eyes, trying to focus. “No, no— look at me,” He says, bringing his finger to your chin to tilt your head up a little, “look at me while I do it.” Your eyes flutter open, and you can hardly stand his searing gaze. “Yeah, look at me with those pretty eyes,” He coos. Your body moves up and down with every one of his thrusts, and his constant praise makes you melt.

His pelvis slaps against you, making your clit vibrate with every thrust. “Just like that, San,” You say in a strained voice, “Right on my clit.” He continues his pace, watching your face tense in pleasure. If only you’d not have had that miscommunication the other night, then you’d have been fucking all week, he’s sure of it. Of course, he can see you both easily making up for it; your pussy’s too good not to come crawling back to you each and every time.

Hello, my lovely baby Atiny 🩷 Thank you so so much for your request! I will tag it right here.

Admittedly, this one was really challenging for me initially; I’ve never written for a non-binary character so I wanted to take my time as much as possible so as to not screw it up. Hopefully it fulfills your request but if not, PLEASE feel free to request again with a few more details so I can be more accurate to the non-binary experiences.

Ok bye 🫰🏽

Seonghwa | Hongjoong | Yunho | San |

Prompt: You’re best friends with (ATEEZ member) and are in need of a little no-strings loving; could he be the one to help with that?

Warning: Smut (obviously, hello). Mentions of sh/scars/mental abuse and mental illness (no depictions of it though)

*Tags: Afab, non-binary reader! (I was requested a piece w/ Yeosang w/ a non-binary reader who has SH scars; I wanted to merge the request with this thread of imagines! If I get anything wrong, I'm rlly sorry. Gonna do my best to represent y'all respectfully and accurately, though I know it's a spectrum within itself <3)

A/n: This is gonna be a bunch of parts (one for each member) and I will be uploading in installments. Okay bye <3.

4.) Yeosang

"Behind," Yeosang's voice sounds behind you as you pour a drink. "Hey, can I get one of those little umbrellas too? They make me feel cute," says the patron for whom you're pouring. You snort, "Sure." She smiles as you gently let the umbrella drop into the small, light pink drink. "Wooyoung's gonna start bitching at you for going through extra supplies," Yeosang snorts. "Yeah?" You roll your eyes, "Well, fuck Wooyoung." "Been there, done that," San chimes in with a sigh. "You're gonna have to get over him soon. You're driving me nuts," You groan. "I'm trying to but Yeosang won't give me a chance," San smirks, glancing at Yeosang playfully. "It's because you want him too much," You lean in close to San's ear, "he hates that kinda stuff."

The bar is absolutely packed tonight, thanks to Wooyoung's insistence on having theme nights, despite yours and the other workers' resistance. These are the busiest nights. Tonight's theme is 80's night. You're wearing light blue, distressed jeans and a red muscle tea, paired with old, white air-forces. This is as 80's as it's gonna get for you in this hot ass building. Yeosang also rarely makes an effort for these things, usually picking the most basic outfits that technically fit our themes. Tonight, it's a black tee shirt and a blue flannel with jeans and some converse. San, on the other hand, is in his full getup: dangly-earring, cropped, purple, mesh tank top, and the tightest jeans imaginable. Anything for a good tip, He always says.

"Can I get a beer?" Asks a girl as she walks up to the bar. "Sure, which brand--" You begin to ask, but she shakes her head, "No, I was talking to him," She points to Yeosang. He lifts his head, glancing at you and then at her, "Oh-- a beer? Of course. Uhm...which brand?" "Got any Corona?" She asks, leaning in to try to see over the bar, though it's clear she's trying to draw attention to her chest, which is very much on display as she’s practically bent over. He definitely catches on, and keeps his eyes on her face, "Yep. Corona, coming right up." You watch the entire exchange in annoyance; not at her trying to seduce him-- that part you get-- but this kind of thing happens all the time; San and Yeosang bring in the biggest tips and you’re left ignored. You get it; they're hot and buff or whatever, but you've got bills to pay, dammit and Wooyoung doesn’t pay enough for you to make it without any got damn tips.

He tries to set the drink down on the bar, but she beats him to it, reaching her hand out to take it from him and very deliberately grazing his fingers as she does. "You're...Yeosang, right?" She asks. "Yup, that's me..." He tries to keeps his eyes on his hands as he dries off a glass. He knows where this is going and he's not really into it. You stand by, unable to ignore the conversation, as it's happening right next to you. "They were right; you are really hot." Her brazen compliment makes him turn bright red, and he smiles politely, "Oh, thank you. I appreciate it." “Do you have a girlfriend? Or a…partner or something?” She asks, remembering she’s in a queer establishment. This is when he fully turns to give you the help me nod.

She doesn’t notice, of course, as she already seems a little tipsy. “Sorry, but if you’re not gonna order anything else, would you mind stepping aside? We’ve got other customers,” You say, inserting yourself in their exchange. She turns to you, the nastiest look on her face as she opens her mouth to say something else, though just as she does, someone walks up behind her, “Rum and Coke, please!” I look at the other girl and raise a brow at her, to which she responds by rolling her eyes and walking away with her drink.

“Thank you so much,” Yeosang exhales, gently grazing your arm. The action gives you involuntary goose bumps, “You owe me.” “Yes, of course. After this, food on me,” He says, hoping you’ll agree to settle for cheap. You sigh, “Fine. Only since you’re asking so nicely.”

You both get off around 1AM, having gotten off earlier than San and Yunho since you’d been there early setting up. Luckily, that means you can catch the diner drive thru before it closes. You snag some food and then drive to your usual place; the lookout over the city.

The city is busy tonight, and you’re able to see all the cars along the road, jammed together like ants in the distance. “Should I look for another job?” You ask with a sigh, picking at your fries. “Why would you do that?” Yeosang holds his straw up to his lips as he leans against the car. You gently swing your legs off the side of the trunk, which you’re currently sitting on, “I just feel like I’ll never make enough to comfortably sustain myself. I’m not even asking to be rich or anything— I just wanna be able to afford rent and also have money left over to…I don’t know, buy myself some new underwear?” “New underwear? Big spender over here,” He snorts sarcastically. “That’s how it feels,” You roll your eyes.

“To be fair, you do wear some of the most expensive underwear on the market,” He glances at your waist, where the waistband of your Calvin Klein briefs are peeking over your jeans. “Hey, I’ll have you know these were a gift from my mother. And besides,” You lean back, a smug expression on your face, “I look good in ‘em.” He laughs, having expected an arrogant response, “Of course you’d say that…I guess you do look alright in them.” You raise your brows at him, “The truth comes out.” “Oh shut up,” His cheeks burn a little under your gaze, and he’s thankful it’s so dark so you can’t see. You laugh and put your fries to the side, “San would kill for a compliment like that, you know?” “San would kill for a glance in his direction by any attractive man in proximity,” He chuckles, “and besides, he’s not really my type.”

“Your type?” You echo, furrowing your brows, “I didn’t realize you had one.” “Well, I do.” “And who, may I ask, is your type? During our entire year of friendship, I’ve never actually seen you flirt with anyone like ever.” “That’s because I don’t really flirt all that often,” He shrugs, “my type isn’t really based on looks; it’s more like…a personality type.” “Okay…elaborate.” He gets a little shy, “I don’t know…I like someone more low-key. Doesn’t try too hard. I also just like for things to happen organically, you know?” He looks up at the sky, sighing at the beautiful stars. “How you ever get laid is beyond me,” You look up as well, “I haven’t dated since before I moved over here.”

He raises his brows in surprise, “Wow, really? How come?” “Eh…I haven’t really had the best luck dating. My last relationship ended up shittily.” “Can I ask…what made it so shitty?” He treads lightly, not wanting to pry, “You don’t have to answer, of course.” You chew on your lip, thinking about it for a second, “Well, to make a long story short…he was kind of…an asshole. Really fucked with my mental; I even—” You catch yourself and abruptly stop talking, debating on whether or not to say it. “Even…what?” He asks, turning to you. You look down, feeling a bit vulnerable, “Okay, I’ll say it— but don’t get all soft on me. I’m perfectly fine now, okay?” You warn, eyeing him. “Alright…go ahead.” “I kinda…started hurting myself. But, like I said, I don’t do it anymore.”

He turns his entire body so he’s fully facing you, “You…started hurting yourself?” “Yeah,” You look away, “but I haven’t done it since we broke up. It’s not like a…a big deal.” He gets closer, reaching tentatively to place a hand on your thigh; it’s a comforting touch— not one that holds intention for anything other than to comfort you as a friend, “You’re really okay now?” His voice is so gentle as he asks, it makes you feel very bare. “Of course,” You look away again, though you suddenly feel yourself getting emotional. What the fuck even is this? You think to yourself, feeling silly. “So…that’s why you haven’t been with anyone since?” He asks. “Yep…just feels really personal, you know? I mean, I’m telling you because we’re friends and I trust you, but I’m generally pretty closed off in that aspect,” You exhale, “I don’t know how I’ll ever get to that point where I trust someone enough with my body again…”

You’re mostly healed from the relationship, but it still hurts some times to see your reflection and see the remnants of a life you’re trying desperately to bury. Not to mention, the looks you know you’ll get from someone who wouldn’t understand. “Anyway…shot got dark real quick,” You laugh, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly, “Let’s change the subject.” He looks at you, sensing your desperation to get the attention off of this part of your life, so he concedes, clapping his hands together and drinking the last of his soda, “Alright, alright,” He checks his watch, “You ready?” “Yep. Let’s hit it.” You hop off the trunk, landing with a soft, gravely thud as your sneakers hit the ground. He watches as he stands by the passenger door, waiting for you to get in first.

He changed the subject because you wanted him to, but he continues processing your words. He imagines you, sad and lonely and desperate for some kind of relief. He wishes he’d known you then…would you have been friends? Would he have been able to save you? You’ve never seemed like the type to really need saving…maybe that’s why this story is so jarring. Part of him feels rage at the thought of anyone pushing you to that point; the other part is just glad you’re alive to tell the tale.

“Earth to Yeosang,” You say, waving your hand to get his attention. He snaps out of his thoughts, “Mm?” “Wanna come in and get your package?” You repeat yourself, as he’s been distracted the entire car ride. “Oh! Yeah, let’s go.” He unbuckles himself and gets out, following you into your little studio behind your landlord’s house.

He’s been over quite a few times, usually after work whenever you both get out later than usual and you let him sleep over, since your apartment is closer than his by twenty minutes. You look over in the corner of the room and snap your fingers, “Here it is.” You walk over and grab the box, “You’re lucky I didn’t steal these for myself. These albums are so hard to come by.” You turn to face him, only to see a look on his face you don’t recognize; somewhere between pensiveness and timidity. “You okay?” You ask, tilting your head. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, then looks down as though trying to ground himself, “Y/n…can I ask you something?” “Sure…” You furrow your brows, unsure of what he might say, and a little nervous, given his serious tone; one he rarely takes with you.

“I was thinking about our conversation…” He says, struggling to get the words out a bit. “What about it?” You ask, a bit thrown that he’s bringing it up again. Slowly, he comes forward and takes the box from you, his hands gently grazing yours; your entire body suddenly gets goose bumps. What is this reaction? “Well, you said you were able to tell me about it because you trust me, right?” “Yeah…?” “What if…” he looks down, his cheeks turning a little pink, “I can help you out a bit?” “Help me out how?” For some reason, your heart rate is going faster and faster, as though it knows something your mind still has yet to understand. Slowly, he puts the box down on the couch next to him and looks at you.

You’ve always found Yeosang attractive; that much is true. From the day you started working at the bar, you found yourself just as bewitched as everyone else— although, maybe not more than San, who is clearly Yeosang’s number one fan. But as you got to know him, you realized what a wonderful person he is; he’s gentle and kind. You even find yourself relating to him in certain aspects; the way he weaves in between the feminine and the masculine, unapologetically himself in the best way possible. Your friendship was natural and easy; making him laugh was always your favorite part, too…really everything about your friendship is your favorite part.

Outside, you can hear it’s started to rain; the drops gently pitter pattering against your roof and windows. Summer showers. He steps closer, until there’s only about one foot of distance between the two of you. “If you can’t trust a stranger with your body yet…can you trust me?” He’s still blushing, but he keeps his gaze on you. Vulnerability is hard, but laying himself bare before you is too inviting. You’re stuck, staring up at him, trying to understand— “What do you mean, Yeosang?” “I mean…” He reaches for your hand and gently raises it to his lips, “Let me ease your nerves…as your friend.” He plants a gentle kiss on the back of it, and it sends a delicious shiver down your spine. Of all the things you’d have expected to hear tonight, this was the absolute last one.

You watch him as he gives it another kiss, but doesn’t go further than that yet. He’s waiting for you to say it; the magic word he’s suddenly desperate to hear. He was always attracted to you. From the second you walked in for the interview during his opening shift. He’d watched you smile and laugh, charming Wooyoung into giving you the bartender job he’d rejected about four other people for already because he “didn’t like their vibe.” You looked so cool; effortless and unbothered. He’d been shy to talk to you at first, but it’s like you wouldn’t let him hide. You’d warmed up to him instantly, and he couldn’t help but melt in to you too. Becoming your friend was the easiest thing in the world— but the attraction never really waned; he forcibly muted it, not wanting to risk anything…but part of him always wondered if trying it, just once, would really be so bad.

“Okay…” You say, unable to resist the sudden urge that arises at the sight of his obvious desire for you, but still feeling a little hesitant. He lets go of your wrist and gently pulls you in to his embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses you. It’s unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. You haven’t been kissed like this in…ever. His lips are so soft, and his spit so sweet. Your arm hooks over his neck and brings him closer. This kiss is so much more than you could ever have expected; it’s dizzying and wonderful. Slowly, he slips his tongue in, grazing yours timidly, until yours responds by doing the same. You never thought a kiss could make you so weak.

Somehow, you end up on the couch; whether it was you leading him, him leading you— at this point, your bodies are tangled up, still clothed, but getting hotter with every passing moment. You push the fabric of his flannel off his shoulder, which prompts him to shrug it off completely, exposing his big, defined arms. You drag your fingers along each ridge, feeling his muscles, which you’ve wanted to do for so long. Your touch draws him in further. His pants feel suddenly so tight now, he can hardly stand it. He tears his lips away from yours and sits up, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. Wordlessly, he untucks his black tee shirt. You watch intently as he raises it slowly, exposing his hard abs. He watches you watch him; it only makes him harder. Finally, he pulls the tee shirt up over his head and tosses it onto the floor. Everything about him is perfect; his pecs are big, his abs defined. His black hair falls a bit into his face, and the image makes him look like some warrior prince.

You’re absolutely enchanted by him, and he feels it— but his goal is to make you see how absolutely enchanting you are. He looks down as he plays with the hem of your shirt, which is already slightly lifted, exposing a sliver of your stomach. “Can I take this off…?” His voice is so low, it rumbled throughout your body. You nod, “Yes.” You sit up, allowing him to pull your shirt all the way. It lands next to his tee shirt, and now, you’re left in your sports bra and jeans. He looks over your shoulders, your arms, your chest, your stomach. He takes the back of his hand and gently trails it down your arm, “You know…I used to fantasize about this day…” You furrow your brows, a bit surprised, “You did?” “Of course,” He laughs softly, “I always wondered what it would be like…” He leans down, placing a kiss on your neck, “to kiss you,” a kiss on your shoulder, “everywhere.” Your lashes flutter closed as you focus on his feather-light kisses.

He lays you back down, continuing his kisses down the center of your chest, then your stomach, until finally, he’s at the button of your jeans. “Wait,” You gently stop him, and he obeys, lifting his head to make sure you’re okay. “Before you see my legs,” You close your eyes, “I just…have to warn you…it’s a lot.” He takes in your worried expression, and immediately, he wants nothing more than to take you into his arms and reassure you— but he remains calm and collected. With one hand, he undoes the button on your jeans. You keep your eyes closed, bracing yourself for a reaction. He tugs downward, until your pants are fully down to your ankles. It’s only then that he takes in the sight of your thighs.

It’s true; there are a lot of scars. Some are more faded than others, but all look healed. He lets his eyes trail over them, getting their fill. However, despite your own perception of them, he isn’t any less eager to show you the attention you deserve. You still have your eyes closed, when you feel his lips on your thighs. It’s prompts you to finally open them and look down. One of his hands comes up to hold your left thigh, squeezing gently at the soft flesh, while the other props him up to keep kissing. His lips diligently cover every single scar he can see— kissing with passion, same as he would if he was kissing your lips. Your lips part at the sight of this ethereal being worshiping you with his mouth.

He doesn’t stop at kissing them, either. After a minute, he begins licking languidly along the length of your thighs. His goal was to make you feel wanted, and he succeeded, because right now, you feel like the most desired person in the world. A soft sigh escapes you, and it makes his entire body grow hotter. He grips tightly to your other thigh. Eventually, his long licks turn into soft bites. When he comes up for a little air, his nose and lips are red and bloodshot. You sweep a lock of silky, black hair behind his ear, taking in his piercing eyes and heavy stare. “I want you, Y/n,” He says it so easily, it makes your core feel wet and needy.

His hands snake up your thighs and to the waistband of your briefs, “Can I…?” His mouth is watering at the proximity of your heat to his mouth; separated only by a few inches of space, plus the thin fabric of your underwear. “Do it,” You say breathlessly, lifting your hips up as he swiftly yanks the waistband down until they slide off your ankles. He doesn’t waist a single moment as he leans down and kisses your upper pelvic area; they’re anxious, ravenous kisses now, like there’s so much he wants to devour but so little time to do it. As though something deep within him has taken over, he hooks his arms around your thighs and yanks your closer, then bends your legs so your thighs are against your stomach, your pussy lips exposed to his hungry eyes. He dips down and licks a stripe up your slit, which is already glistening with your arousal to begin with. “Mm…” You moan, feeling his tongue snag on your clit. He holds your legs up as he goes again, only this time, he starts all the way from your asshole.

He could easily spend hours between your legs, lapping you up to the very last drop. Your moans fill the entire apartment, and you just hope to God that your landlord doesn’t hear you. Yeosang, on the other hand, couldn’t care less who would hear. “Shit,” You moan, craning your neck to see him a big better over your legs. Suddenly, you feel his lips enclose your clit and suck gently, making your eyes roll back, “Shit,” You curse, biting your lip. You feel his fingers digging into your legs, but all it does is fuel your pleasure. There’s nothing better than this feeling. He alternates between sucking and licking, covering the undersides of your thighs with kisses in between. It’s already feeling amazing when you feel him insert two fingers into you. You gasp, feeling yourself stretch around his fingers. He’s not aggressive; he’s slow and gentle with it as he goes in and out, his lips still on your swollen clit.

He can feel your wetness coat his fingers fully. “You trust me?” He asks. “Y-yes,” You struggle to answer. “Okay, then just breathe, alright?” He instructs, to which you nod, unable to speak. He gently curls his fingers slightly upward, pumping a little quicker now. Your pussy makes loud, squelching noises, and it feels like pressure building inside you. His thumb rubs simultaneously on your clit, and it’s almost too overwhelming. “Yeosang wait— I think I’m gonna pee,” You try to stop him, but he shakes his head, “No, you’re not. Just trust me,” His teeth clench as he pumps harsher, and you feel it— the pressure— about to erupt. “Yeosang, Yeosang, Yeosang—!” You yell, your body contorting violently as a gush of liquid shoots out of you and onto your couch and his lap. He doesn’t hesitate to smash his face into your heat to devour your orgasm with his mouth and tongue. You continue riding out your climax, grinding your pussy against his nose until it’s finally settling.

You lay there, panting as he cleans every centimeter of your wet cunt. You watch as he continues kissing you; your inner thighs, your pussy lips, your scars— it’s like he can’t get enough. You stroke his hair, finding his attention to be so validating and comforting. It’s only after it’s all said and done that you realize that, what he wanted wasn’t just to make you feel good;

He wanted to worship you.

*Warning: Series will have smut, all chapters will be labeled accordingly.

*Chapter Warnings: Suggestive (no smut)

You lay there, frozen in place as you watch in horror at the figure-- or rather-- the naked man, in the middle of your apartment. Your chest heaves as you try to figure out your next move. Run? Fight? Where's my phone? Where's my goddamn phone!? You slowly sit up to ready yourself to make a break for it-- but then you realize-- "S-Seonghwa?" Your mouth says it, but you don't fully believe it. This must be a dream. It has to be.

His head lifts at the sound of his name, and slowly, he turns around to face you. Your eyes widen as you take in his naked form-- you're so shocked, you can't decide on whether to cover your eyes or keep gauking at him. "It's gotta be a dream. No way this is real--" You look around the room, then at him, "But there's no golden haze. Where the fuck is the golden haze?" You sound like an insane woman, and Seonghwa just stands there watching (and listening to) you. "Y/n." He says your name, instantly silencing your thoughts as you snap your attention to him. His voice is just the same as your dream. "What's happening? And why are you naked!?" You cry out. He looks down at his body like he's only just noticed, "I'm naked?" He then looks at his hands, studying them closely. You grab your head, "I'm still drunk, is that it?" You slap your forehead as though you've found the answer, "Right. I just gotta sleep it off." You slam yourself back into your mattress and squeeze your eyes closed, forcing yourself to take long, deep breaths. Sleep. Sleep. Just go to sleep.

Previous | Next (Skip to Hongjoong’s part)

*Warning: Smut

You lay with your back to the door, feeling restless in your spot on the enormous bed you’ve come to accept the lonely embrace of. Hongjoong’s been in his studio for hours, as per usual. You haven’t even seen him since last night, as your schedules haven’t overlapped at all, and now it’s already 11PM.

It used to be that, at the end of long days such as this one, you at least had the comfort of a good night kiss or falling asleep on his chest— but for the longest time now, it’s been just this: sleeping alone, eating alone, living practically alone. Hongjoong is like a ghost now, only appearing in the corner of your eye before disappearing again. You don’t even try to go down to the studio anymore. What for? For him to grunt at your questions? To dismiss you or lie and say he’ll “come up in a second”?

You close your eyes and try desperately to let sleep overtake you, but it’s useless; everything— the pillow, the sheets, the breeze through your window, the night itself— it’s all too cold.

You hear the door click open behind you; it happens so rarely anymore, you momentarily wonder if it was the wind or something— but then you hear it click closed again, followed by the sound of the lock. Despite him routinely avoiding coming upstairs to be with you, you know it’s Hongjoong. You crane your neck to look at the doorway, and he’s standing there, silhouette illuminated by the dim nightlight you’ve always kept to lessen your anxiety. He’s leaning against the wall, kicking off his slippers.

“Hongjoong?” You call out in confusion, having expected him to sleep in the studio, as he so often does. He doesn’t answer, but you watch as he walks over to the bed, sliding in silently. “I thought you were gonna stay in the studio—” You begin talking, but he unexpectedly wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you ever closer so you’re flush against him. Within milliseconds, his mouth is on yours, kissing you so deeply, it dizzies you. You turn over so you’re now full facing him, and he takes it as an opportunity to draw you closer, moving his hand down to lift your leg up to wrap around him.

You should pull away, tell him you’re not in the mood— but he hasn’t held you in so long. Your leg clings tightly to his side, and your hands grip his shirt. He pulls away to kiss at the part of your chest left exposed by your tank top. He’s moving too quickly. “Hongjoong, I- maybe we should talk first—” He reaches down in between your legs, circling your barely clothed pussy, making your words catch in your throat. You hate this— how weak for him you are. Anger burns within you, but your desire for him burns even hotter. How you ache for the man you’ve loved since before his fame.

“Mm,” You moan involuntarily, writhing against his touch. He kisses your shoulder as he continues rubbing, getting you ready. You can feel his hard length against your bare leg; it’s barely contained in his loose sweat pants. You can’t even remember the last time he made love to you. He stops rubbing, only for a moment, to bring his hand up and then dive inside of your underwear. Your wetness coats his fingers, which only serves to make him more ravenous for you.

You reach down between you to let your fingers sneak into the waistband of his sweats as well, slipping his boxers down just enough to take out his hardened cock. He groans in pleasure as he feels your firm grip, pumping lightly up and down. “Fuck, Baby,” He whispers, resting his forehead against yours. Your heart aches at the sound of him acknowledging you. You want to hear more.

You move his hand away from you, just so that you can start shifting downward. He watches lustfully, positioning himself so he’s on his back now, getting comfortable for what he knows is coming. You bend over, straddling his legs, mouth right by his throbbing dick. His lips part as he watches you slowly stretch your mouth over his tip, licking languidly all over it. He hasn’t felt your throat in ages, and he can’t help the excitement at the sight of it. Slowly, you bring him deeper and deeper into your mouth, until he’s bottoming out. “Y/n…shit, I love that pretty mouth,” He says, caressing your soft cheek. More. More. More.

You begin taking him in and out of your mouth, making sure to let your tongue explore every single veiny ridge along the length of it. You bring your hand up to gently massage his balls, kneading skillfully, just how he likes it. Every now and then, you look up and admire how beautiful he looks. A view that’s just for you. A view that none of those adoring fans or screaming women will ever get…even you hardly get it anymore… He grabs your head, holding it in place as he begins thrusting into your mouth. Every thrust is almost too deep, threatening to make you gag, but he doesn’t get quite far enough.

His eyes alternate between closing, to focus on his pleasure, and opening so that he can keep watching you. Finally, he feels himself close to his undoing, but then slides himself out of your mouth with a wet pop sound. “Come up here,” He says breathlessly. You obey immediately, climbing up until you feel his arm around your waist. As though it’s completely natural, he reaches down to slide your panties to the side, and you instinctively lower your pelvis. He pumps his cock twice, then slides his tip back and forth against your pussy, making you moan again, until finally, he slips into your tight hole.

“I missed you, baby,” He whispers as he kisses you, slowly sliding in and out. You’re overwhelmed with this sensation; the feeling of connection after a long absence. “I missed you too,” You say, a tear slipping out of your eye. He doesn’t even notice. It’s too dark in here. You wish you could turn on the actual lamp, to see him better. Your ass rises and falls against his pelvis, slapping lightly, followed with the noise of your own wetness. You whine at the pleasure building within you, and he knows you’re just as close as he was. He fucks up into you a little harder, bringing one arm up to lay flat against your back while the other holds you in place. “Hong. Joong.” His name divides into syllables on your tongue with every snap of his hips.

“You’re gonna cum with me, okay Princess?” He says, looking up at you. You nod silently, face already contorting as you feel your orgasm building. “You’re so good to me, Y/n,” He coos, holding your cheek as he slams harder and harder, “You’re so good,” His teeth clench, and finally, your climax is washing over you, as is his, and soon, he’s spilling his hot cum into your wanting cunt. “I love you,” You scream, and he swallows your words with his desperate mouth.

He lays with you for around five minutes, holding you lazily against him. You delight in his warmth, feeling your sadness so far from you…until you feel him start to move away. You turn to him, “Wh-where are you going?” “Gotta go finish up downstairs, babe.” He doesn’t even look at you, just gives your shoulder a little kiss and then tears himself away, adjusting his sweats and putting his house shoes back on.

You lay there, dumbfounded and at a loss. Your heart, once again, aches for the man who, after every time you made love, used to beg you not to leave your bed for at least an hour. The man who used to hold you until even he fell asleep, finding his peace in having you near.

Where is that man?

You lay back, eyes fixed on the now-blurry ceiling. Somewhere, beyond this physical realm, you hear the distant shattering of your heart, mourning a man who holds a faceless fanbase higher than the woman he once swore he’d always love…

When did your love turn into a device to use for a quick fuck?

Pt.2 |

Summary: You, a burnt out, uninspired, and chronically single writer, have grown tired of writing about the perfect man but never finding one of your own— that is, until one night, when one finally visits you in a dream that will change everything.

*Warning: Series will have smut, all chapters will be labeled accordingly.

*Chapter Warnings: Smut. Crappy sex(consensual)

“You’re too stressed,” Hongjoong says, lifting his mug to his lips and taking a slow sip, “You’re gonna have to relax a little.” “Relax,” You echo with a scoff, drinking from your own mug as well. You swish the bitter, black coffee around in your mouth, letting it shock your senses a bit. You’ve been up late the past few nights, trying to finish up the last few chapters of your book to meet the deadline, which is rapidly approaching. “You know what you should do? You should come out with me tonight; we can get a little drunk, dance— and who knows,” He smiles coyly, “You may just catch yourself a man.” You roll your eyes, “I’m not gonna go to a club to meet some rando’ to hook up with. I’m single, not desperate.” “…you sure about that?” He winces.

Of all your friends, you’ve been single the longest. About four years ago, you were in the absolute worst relationship of your life; every single red flag one could think of, your ex embodied it, and you were so blind to it that you tolerated the most heinous mistreatment for three years. When you’d first ended it, you’d sworn off dating for at least a year— but with the hustle and bustle of life, one year turned to two, two to three, and now, you often sit at your writing desk wondering where the hell the time went. Sure, you’ve been on dates here and there, but it never goes far. It’s like every single man in the city is tainted and no good: cheaters, gaslighters, manipulators. It’s hard holding out hope with today’s dating pool—

So, you’re relegated to locking yourself in your apartment, save for these brief moments outside of your enclosure, typing furiously away, imagining all sorts of romances and impossible scenarios…never having to leave the safety of your block , never having to get hurt.

*Warning: Smut

Pt.6 |

“You want to see me?” You echo his question. He nods desperately, “Please.”

“Fine…” You lean back, keeping your legs together, “Take off the blindfold.”

He hurriedly undoes the knot at the back and lets the fabric slip down his face. Slowly, he opens his eyes; You’re a sight to behold sitting there, staring down at him as though he’s absolutely nothing.

“Stay still.”

He does as you ask, controlling every impulse to reach out and touch you again. Slowly, you move one leg to the side, and then the other— and finally, he’s seeing every part of you. He swallows hard as he looks down at your bare pussy; the same one he’d had on his tongue only minutes ago.

“Now that you’ve tasted it…” You slowly snake your hand down between your legs, gently rubbing in circles, “Do you like it?”

He nods his head again, pupils blown wide at the sight of you, “Yes.”

“Do you want some more?” Your voice is low and teasing; it drives him wild.

“Yes,” He says breathlessly, eyes fixed on the way your perfectly manicured hand rubs at your pretty clit.

“Yes, yes, yes,” You mimic him, “I could ask if you wanted me to slap you and you’d still say yes, wouldn’t you?” You ask, raising a brow.

Without missing a single beat, he looks up at you with those beautiful eyes, “If that’s what you want.”

You can’t resist stopping your ministrations to lean forward and kiss him once more. He receives your tongue hungrily, kissing you back as though he knows you’ll tear yourself away from him at any moment, so he tries to savor it as much as possible. It’s like a man stranded in the desert when he finally finds a small puddle of water— lapping it up with no regard to the consequences.

You tear away from him, your lips pink and swollen as you lay back, propping yourself up on your elbows, and you lift your legs up onto the bed, knees bent upwards, “Come then…keep going.”

He crawls the last step closer, then brings his torso up onto the bed. His arms timidly snake around your thighs to better hold you, and you watch him as he excitedly approaches your glistening, wet cunt. You love this view. He leans down really close, and you can feel his hot breath against your core— then finally, he lets his tongue come out to lick at the button just at the top. He may not have ever done this before tonight, but he’s watched enough porn in his day to know how to find it— even if he doesn’t quite know how to use it yet.

“Oh,” You gasp lightly as he licks at your clit, and instinctively, your hand comes down to rest in his hair. He looks up at you as he continues, wanting to gauge whether or not he’s doing a good job. “Go on,” You instruct, stroking his hair. Your praise gives him the last bit of confidence he needs to finally start exploring. One of his hands starts gently rubbing circles on your sensitive bud, just as he’d seen you do a moment ago. He then pairs the action with long, languid strokes up and down your slit. You bite your lip, delighting in the sensation. He’s still a bit clumsy at it; there are moments when you feel it, then lose it, but he doesn’t give up.

He’s learning, sure, but he’s also enjoying everything about this. You on your back, your hand in his hair, his mouth on your sweet pussy— he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than to be here, worshiping you. “You taste so sweet…” He whispers, catching his breath. “Do I?” You smile. He nods, continuing to lick up and down, then swirling his tongue around your clit— and when you squirm, that’s when he realizes he’s figured out what to do. “Ah….” You moan when he gets just the right amount of pressure on your clit. “You’re- you’re doing so good,” You breathe. “I’m doing good for you?” He echoes, desperately wanting your validation. His pathetic, desperate tone makes you even more wet for him. “So, so good,” You continue stroking his hair, though you find yourself fighting between stroking and wanting to pull.

He’s drawing you closer and closer, and you’re finally in your last stage before your climax. You can’t help yourself as you reach down and hold his face in place, “Stay still for me, okay, baby?” You say through clenched teeth as you begin using his face as your own personal toy. He blushes at your pet name, his heart fluttering. He’d give anything to keep hearing you say such sweet things to him. So, he stays totally and completely still, letting his tongue (and his nose) take you where you need. He’s only ever seen a woman cum in person once before, and it was nothing like this.

“Shit, Yunho— you wanna see me cum?” You ask, grinding yourself down on his face. “Uh-huh,” He responds. “After I cum—” You say breathlessly, “You’re gonna clean it all up with your tongue, do you hear me?” “Uh-huh,” His heart pounds in excitement as you slowly unravel before his very eyes. “F-fuck,” You hiss, your eyes already beginning to roll back, “Oh, fuck, Yunho,” You whine, “I’m— I’m cumming!” You halfway scream, releasing his head. He pulls away as he watches your pussy slowly drip a thick, white substance and, like a good boy, he licks it all up. Every last bit. “Fuck yes,” You pant, craning your head to look at him. Gently, you push his hair back, taking in his red face. To your surprise, he doesn’t stop there; even after licking you up, he plants kisses all over your pussy— as though it were your mouth.

You begin to spasm, laughing lightly, “What are you doing?” “I…I don’t know,” He answers honestly, “I just…wanted to kiss you.”

You smile, then slowly scoot up higher on your bed to make room for him, “Then kiss me properly…” You reach out to him, urging for him to come up onto the bed with you. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed. You think he’ll lay down next to you, but to your surprise, he gets on top instead. You don’t stop him; it feels good to be caged under a man for the first time in a while. His left arm comes under your head, while the right one holds your side. For a little while, you just kiss; you kiss and kiss, not moving further than that while you recover from your orgasm. You do, however, feel his boner against your upper thigh.

You pull away and smile up at him, “Not bad for your first time.” He blushes, “I- I’ll get better…if you let me do it again, of course…if you want.” He’s still so timid. God, why can’t all men be this afraid of women’s disapproval. “You’re so sweet, Yunho…” You stroke his hair, “So polite…so eager to please…” You gently finger the waistband of his pants, “but I want you to feel good too…are you comfortable in these pants?” You feign concern. “Yes,” He breathes out. “Then we should take them off,” You make him lift himself up a bit, and then you slide his pants and underwear down as far as you can, and he slips them off the rest of the way. He’s now naked, hovering above you. “Better?” “Better,” He nods.

You begin kissing again, when you manage to put your leg in between his, to which he doesn’t exactly know how to respond; “You’ve been so good for me tonight…” You say between kisses, “now I want you to please yourself” You pull away, eyes glancing down at his lips, “Sit up.” He’s momentarily a bit confused, but then he does as you say; he sits up until he’s upright and straddling your leg, his cock fully erect and resting against your leg. The sight is abnormal, but not at all unpleasant; a big man like him resting on your leg, his naked body on full display for you. “Wh-what should I do now?” He asks. You smile mischievously, “Ride it.” He blinks in confusion, “Ride…what?” “My leg.”

His eyes widen as he realizes what you’re telling him to do. His heart is beating so fast in his chest, and he has to look away from you for a second to stop himself from being overwhelmed by what you’re asking him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to; he does, but he knows this isn’t something a man would typically do…would it change your perception of him? “Yunho,” Your suddenly gentle voice brings him out of his thoughts, and he looks at you, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” You reach up and stroke his cheek, which instantly reassures him. He’s so damn cute. He leans into your touch for a second, then nods, “I want to.” He gets into position, trying not to put too much pressure as he braces himself on your thighs, leaning forward just a bit so his cock is more directly against your leg.

You may be more excited than he is when he begins moving back and forth slowly. At first, he tries to find his rhythm, but after a moment, he finds it. You watch as his bare torso rolls so gracefully. At the diner yesterday, he’d mentioned he liked to dance in his spare time— if he looks this good now, you can only imagine how well he moves when he’s dancing. “You look so pretty like this,” You praise him. Despite the word being more feminine in nature, his chest swells with pride and satisfaction at hearing your approval of him in any way, shape, or form. He continues, his mouth hanging open as his cock moves forward and backward, desperate to be shoved into your sweet pussy, but relegated to drag along your thigh. He looks down, watching himself, and you hear a quiet moan escape him. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” You ask, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Uh-huh,” He says in a strained voice, his eye lids fluttering as he continues.

You glance down at his tip, and see it’s glistening with pre-cum, wetting your skin a bit. “Look at you, already so close, aren’t you?” He doesn’t respond to you— he can’t— he’s too preoccupied with this delicious feeling starting at the base of his spine and climbing ever so slowly. He begins to move faster, rattling the bed more and more. You don’t mind one bit. He starts panting as he goes harder, the underside of his cock being stimulated so deliciously by your soft skin, “I’m gonna cum soon,” His voice is so tight as he speaks. “Not until I say,” You say firmly. He slows down a bit, trying to be obedient; if he continues at that same punishing pace, he’ll end up busting in seconds. “You’re such a good boy for me, Yunho,” Your hand moves to the back of his neck, heating his skin, “You like being good for me?” “I do,” He kisses the inside of your forearm, closing his eyes, “I love being good for you.” He responds so easily to your touch, it makes your pussy throb once more. “Keep going then, baby.”

His hips move as slowly as they can, but after a little bit, it’s like they involuntarily begin picking up speed again. “Mmmm,” He moans, feeling himself close, “Can- can I please cum?” “Not yet.” “Please— please, I’m— I’m so close,” He begs, riding your leg desperately. “I said no.” “I can’t hold it any longer,” He cries out, going faster and faster until he’s throwing his head back violently, “Fuck!” His cocks shoots out thick, white ropes of cum flying across your upper thigh and arm, his hips continuing until they slow to a stop. The sight is heavenly. “Yunho,” You put on a facade of anger, though you’re incredibly turned on, “You made a mess.” “I’m— I’m sorry,” He pants, trying to catch his breath. “Clean it up.” “Yes, okay,” He tiredly tries to get off your leg, but you pull him back, “Uh-uh,” your voice lowers an octave, “With your tongue.” Your instruction sends delicious shivers down his spine; the same feeling as when you’d asked— no, ordered him, to lick the blood off your wound. He looks down at his ejaculate on your body. He’s never tasted his own cum before, nor has he ever had the thought to, but he doesn’t protest.

The words had left your mouth, sure, but you weren’t really convinced he’d go for it— until he shifts downward to lick the trail of his cum off your leg. Your mouth falls open as you watch him; this is the most erotic experience of your life. “Yunho…” You whisper, so full of need for him. He sits up, worried he’s done something wrong, “Mm?” “You’re actually doing it,” You say, your tone between a question and a statement. He swallows, nodding slowly, “You asked me to.” His answer makes your heart flutter, “Come here,” You pull him toward you again, capturing his lips in a hot kiss, immediately inserting your tongue into his mouth, which he receives happily. He lays flush across you again, happy to hold you after such an intense orgasm.

He holds onto you tightly, and when you wrap your arms around him in return, he officially feels himself falling into you; quickly, recklessly, and so deliciously.

Seonghwa | Hongjoong | Yeosang | San

Prompt: You’re best friends with (ATEEZ member) and are in need of a little no-strings loving; could he be the one to help with that?

Warning: Smut (obviously, hello)

A/n: This is gonna be a bunch of parts (one for each member) and I will be uploading in installments. Okay bye <3.

3.) Yunho

"You know what your problem is?" You ask, chomping loudly on your Hot Cheeto. He doesn't look at you, as he's too focused on his laptop screen, trying to find the land survey he had sent to his boss two weeks ago that his boss is only now inquiring about. "Mm?" He grunts, urging you to go on, though he’s only halfway listening. "The problem is that you don't put your foot down." "Put my foot down about what?" He furrows his brows. “About anything," You huff, crossing your legs as you sit next to him, "You let people get away with too much. And now look at you; on our Friday movie night—which we've been planning for a month, mind you— you're stuck in front of your computer because your boss thinks it's okay to pester you after hours." "Hey, if I want him to promote me, I’m gonna have to let some things slide.”

He's always been the more easy-going one in the friendship; any time someone crossed boundaries or talked to him crazy, he'd just shrug it off like it was no big deal. It would piss you off to no end. There was only one time you ever saw him get really really mad; it was your junior year of high school and everyone was kinda losing their shit (finals week, of course). You were studying at your desk and had your open water bottle next to you; a student walked by and accidentally bumped the table, which knocked your bottle over. Water got all over your desk mate’s practice test and on his pants. He immediately flew off the handle, yelling and cussing you out for being a “stupid bitch.”

All it took was for Yunho to hear those words come out of his mouth, and in three long strides, Yunho was pulling you out of the way and punching your desk mate in the jaw. When you looked up at Yunho’s face, he was bright red and absolutely seething with anger. He’d have gone in for another punch, except you stepped in to stop him. Luckily, some students who saw the whole thing were able to get him out of trouble— albeit, by embellishing a little. They said they saw your desk mate go in to punch you, but you knew it was just to get Yunho off the hook. You must admit, his easygoing nature was what made him pretty well-liked. Still, this is the adult world and you wish he’d just tell his boss to fuck off.

A few more minutes of silence, save for the sound of Yunho typing away on his keyboard, you shoot up from your seat, “I’m gonna go get us some food.” “Alright. My keys are on the counter.” The bastard doesn’t even spare a second glance, even though he almost never lets you drive his car. You know he’s only being cool about it because he wants you to stop bugging him while he tries to finish up what he’s doing. You grab the keys and twirl them around on your fingers, “Yeah…I’m gonna go get….burgers. Yup. From that place across town,” You narrow your eyes at him, wanting to gauge his reaction at the mention of you going across town alone so late at night. This burger spot you’re talking about, The Big Bun, is known for having the best burgers but the absolute worst reputation, as far as violence. The last time you and Yunho had gone, you saw a man pull a knife, trying to rob a customer, and a couple fully throwing punches at each other in the parking lot. Not to mention, all the drunks who love to catcall female patrons going in and out of the restaurant.

Yunho lifts his head, “Why don’t you get pizza instead?” “Because I want burgers,” You say stubbornly, crossing your arms. He looks at you for a brief moment, then returns to his computer, “Fine. Knock yourself out.” You furrow your brows, surprised at how easily he seems to be letting you go. “Fine. I will.” You go to Yunho’s hall closet and grab one of his hoodies, quickly throwing it on and walking out the front door. That little asshole is really gonna let me go by myself, you huff as you slam the car door. You turn the key in the ignition and the car roars to life. You begin to scroll on your phone as you let the car heat up, when suddenly, the passenger side door opens, causing you to jump. Yunho slides in and closes the door behind you. It takes everything in you not to smile smugly, “What happened? Thought you weren’t coming.” He rolls his eyes and buckles himself in, “How are you even more childish in adulthood?”

In truth, Yunho did, very briefly, consider letting you take on this adventure to that dangerous ass burger spot on your own, but his guilt immediately began gnawing at him. He couldn’t live with himself if something actually happened to you, so, begrudgingly, he slammed his laptop shut and came out to the car. Besides, he knew you wanted him to come anyway, which is the only reason you were lingering. He glances sideways at you as you begin driving. “You have a bad habit of stealing my clothes.” “It’s not stealing,” You turn onto the main road, “it’s…borrowing. We’re like sisters in that way.” “You’re insufferable.” “See, all this sass?” You motion toward him, “should be directed at your BOSS.”

After about twenty minutes, you make it across town. It’s nearly 9:30PM, and the burger joint still has a bit of a line. Yunho sighs at the sight, already dreading having to wait a million years in line for a burger— although, he knows as soon as he sinks his teeth into that burger, all this dread is straight out the window. “Whatcha gonna get?” You ask as you both walk meet at the front of the car and start walking up to join the line. “What I always get: bacon cheeseburger w/ everything.” “I think I might get that too…wanna split some curly fries?” You ask, grinning up at him. “Absolutely not. You don’t know the meaning of the word split. You always eat all the fries.” “Correction: You let me eat all the fries. Be mad at yourself,” You say, self-righteously walking ahead of him by just a few steps. He chuckles, having to admit you’re absolutely right.

He knows you think he’s too nice, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree…but he also wouldn’t fully agree either. It’s not that he can’t defend himself; in fact, he’s very capable of it. Before you and he met freshman year, he was actually always in trouble. He wasn’t raised in the best family, so everyone was always fighting: his parents with each other, his dad with him, his mom with him— it got to a point where Yunho was known at school for being a hot head. But when high school came, he’d just decided that wasn’t him anymore, and when he met you? Someone who seemed to find it so easy to step in and defend him instead of beating him down like everyone else? You made it easy for him to be gentle again…or rather, for the first time.

But, of course, just like that time in high school when that asshole called you a stupid bitch— Yunho knows when to turn it on.

The line is moving rather quickly, thankfully, and you’re finally two people away from being next to order when you hear the two guys behind you start to whisper something about you. You try to ignore it, telling yourself they might not even be talking about you— that is, until one of them very blatantly says, “I’d hit.” Your heart rate picks up, and you glance at Yunho who doesn’t seem to have heard, since he’s scrolling mindlessly on his phone while you wait. You try to ignore it again, but once more, the guy says, “She looks like she’d be a bitch but I can manage.” Finally, you turn around and stare the fucker right in his face, stunning him slightly momentarily into silence. Yunho notices movement from your direction, and he looks over at you, only to see you staring at that guy. Immediately, he puts his phone down, his eyes going from you to him, assessing the situation.

“Say something else,” You hiss, furrowing your brows at him. The guy looks over at his friend, suddenly realizing he’s letting a woman make him look like a punk, so he straightens up, “And what are you gonna do? I can say whatever the fuck I want.” That’s all Yunho needs to hear to immediately step in. Of course, Yunho’s as tall as a tree, and this guy’s head is barely at Yunho’s shoulder— but he doesn’t let that deter him. “Let’s settle down here,” Yunho says, his tone even, but you can immediately hear the edge in his voice; one he never uses with you, even when you annoy the shit out of him. “And who the fuck are you?” The guys asks, puffing out his chest. “Don’t worry about who I am and just calm down.” “Tell your bitch to calm down, how about that?”

It’s a change that happens almost in the blink of an eye, yet somehow, it’s like you’re watching it in slow motion. The drop of Yunho’s face, the furrow of his brow, the tightness in his lip, the flare of his nostrils— and that red color change to his skin. The sight makes your heart race uncontrollably. You watch as he swiftly raises his fist and, just as he had on that day all those years ago, he swings it clean into the guy’s jaw. At this point, the entire restaurant is watching, though they keep their distance. The one thing about hood burger joints like these? Everybody minds their business. Immediately, you take hold of Yunho’s fist, as it looks like he’s about to go in for another one, but the dude’s already stumbling back, completely dazed from the one, solitary punch. “Yunho,” You say firmly. At the sound of your voice, he immediately puts his fist down and looks at you. “Come on, let’s go back home,” You say, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the line and back to the parking lot.

You don’t let go of him until you’re about to get in the car, but he doesn’t get in right away. Instead, he leans up against the car, his shoulders moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath; the adrenaline makes it so hard to breathe. He can’t really name what it is he’s feeling: guilt? Anger? Sadness? He knows the guy needed to be put in his place, but knowing he would’ve lost control if you hadn’t stopped him…it makes him feel like a sort of ticking time bomb. “Yunho,” You let go of the door handle and walk around the car to his side, stopping until you’re just a foot away from him. He looks away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong?” You ask, looking up at him. “Nothing.” “Clearly it’s not nothing,” You say, trying to be as gentle as possible, “Talk to me.”

He’s quiet for a moment longer before finally letting out a deep sigh, “I almost lost control. If you hadn’t been there—” “But I was,” You shrug, immediately shutting down his what if thoughts, “just like I was there to stop you when you punched that kid for calling me a stupid bitch. Remember?” “Oh yeah,” He snorts softly, “that dickwad.” “Exactly. He was a dickwad, and so was the guy in line. Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? You were just protecting me.” “Still…” He tries to continue, but you put your hand up to motion for him to stop talking, “Enough. You did the right thing.”

The ride to the house is quiet, and you can tell he’s still thinking about it, but you don’t say anything to him until you go inside. You both slip off your shoes and change into slippers, and he follows you into the kitchen. You open the fridge and look over what you have, but you’re really trying to give yourself some time to figure out what to say to him to make him feel better. “You really should let your anger out more often, you know.” He scoffs, “That would be disastrous.” “I’m serious. It’s healthy for you to let it out. And besides, I have to admit, you looked kinda—” You stop yourself abruptly, realizing what you’re about to say. “Kinda what?” He asks, not catching on immediately. “Huh?” You scramble to think of some kind of cover. He furrows his brows at you, “You were gonna say I look kinda what?” He leans on the counter, folding his arms over his chest as he narrows his eyes at you. You stand there, feeling your face get red, “Don’t let this go to your head, okay?” You warn him, finally conceding, “I was gonna say that…well, when you get angry, you look kinda…hot.” Immediately, you look away from him and focus back on the contents of the fridge.

He’s stuck for a moment while he processes what you’ve just said. “You…you think I looked hot back there?” “Let’s not get carried away here. All I’m saying is that when a man lets that part of himself out every once in a while, it can be pretty attractive.” He can’t help the small smirk that grows on his face, and he feels himself loosening up a bit, “So, you think I’m attractive?” You roll your eyes and close the fridge door, “What did I say about the big head?” You eye him, which finally makes him laugh. You feel immediately relieved that he’s no longer down about what he did.

You’re his best friend; from the moment you two met, it was like peas and carrots. You’ve always complimented each other well, which inevitably lead to people asking the same old question: are you dating? The answer was, of course, always a big, fat, disgusted NO. His feelings for you have always been platonic…mostly. There have definitely been moments when his hormones weren’t always in accord with his mind, so sure, there’d be stray glances here and there when you weren’t looking— a few wet dreams, a few times when he’d be pleasuring himself and his mind happened to drift to your face…a few times when he let himself finish to that mental image, followed promptly by a feeling of immense guilt and shame once it was all said and done.

“Come on, don’t be lame…tell me the truth,” He says, trying to sound casual and relaxed, but the curiosity is now eating him alive. You groan, “Come on, don’t make me expand.” “Please, Y/n…make me feel better, huh?” “Ugh, fine,” You keep your eyes on the task at hand, pulling open the freezer drawer to keep looking for something to eat, “When you get mad, you look…different. Usually you’re like a golden retriever—” You always call him that; he finds it quite endearing, “but when you get that mad, you’re like a…cane corso or something. It almost feels like you’re even taller and bigger when you’re mad, and in a situation like that, it makes a woman feel protected, you know? And there’s nothing hotter than knowing a man can beat up another man— if he needs to, of course.” Your voice strains a bit as you bend down to grab the box of frozen pizza you’d bought last week.

He doesn’t mean to, but when you bend down, he notices how high your shorts ride up. So high, he can see the crease in your ass cheeks; he does not look away. You’re oblivious, of course, trying your best to ignore the memory replaying in your head of him losing control. “So you find me…hot?” He asks, his tone is teasing, but underneath is a genuine desire to know. You keep your back to him as you open the box on the counter, “No.” He snorts at how clearly dishonest you’re being, and starts walking up behind you. “Liar.”

You hear him getting closer, but you remain focused on the task at hand, assuming he’ll just come up to stand next to you. “You wish I was lying—” You turn around unexpectedly, and see he’s right behind you. For a second, the both of you are frozen, looking at one another. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. After a moment, you look down, "How's your hand?" Your voice is soft-- much softer than usual. He looks down as well, bringing his hand up to examine his knuckles. Funny...it didn't even hurt until just now that you mentioned it. He remains silent as you take his hand and bring it closer to examine it properly. Red and already bruising. He's not nearly as interested in his hand as he is in you. He's so focused on you, he can hardly spare a thought as to why in the world his heart is fluttering at your touch. Never in your entire decade plus of friendship has he ever felt the way he does right now.

"Let me get you some ice," You say, intent on leading him back to the freezer drawer, but he maneuvers his hand to gently grab onto your wrist, "Wait." You stop in your tracks, turning to look at him again. His eyes are so low, and the way he's looking at you...why is it making your knees weak? "Give me back my hoodie." You're stunned for a beat or two, then you slowly blink, "Y-your hoodie?" "Mhm." "Now?" You ask, a slightly annoyed edge to your voice. He nods, his expression unwavering. You furrow your brows, "No." "Take it off." "No." "No?" "No." With that, he's suddenly grabbing the hem of the hoodie and immediately pulling upwards. "I'm not taking it off!" You protest, flailing your arms, but it's not use-- he manages to yank it off of your body so easily, leaving you in just the tank top you'd originally been wearing before you'd gone to get burgers. "Yunho, you asshole. You could've waited--" Before you can register what he's doing, he's bending down and picking you up, his arms wrapping around your thighs, just under your ass as he suddenly places you on the counter with a gentle thud.

Your mouth hangs open as you stare at him; he doesn’t move another muscle— just stands there, eye-level with you now. His eyes shift back and forth with yours, but it’s clear he’s waiting for you to do something— anything. “You wanted it off,” You say, glancing down at his lips then back up at his eyes, “It’s off. Now what?” “What do you mean?” He asks. “Oh…so you’re gonna pussy foot around this too now?” Your taunt, furrowing your brows. You’re trying to get a rise out of him, and judging by the flame flickering in his obsidian pupils, you can tell it’s working. “You think I’m pussyfooting around?” He asks. “Aren’t you?” You lean forward slightly, “You already yanked off a piece of my clothing and put me on this counter…and yet,” You shrug, “I remain completely untouched.” Your own heart is pounding, but you pretend to be completely unbothered.

His lip twitches as he takes in your words. All these years, is this what you really thought of him? “You know,” He says in a dangerously low tone, “You really talk too fucking much.” He smashes his lips onto yours, his mouth parting as he makes space for you. Instantly, your hands are clutching at his hoodie, wasting no time as you start to pull upward. He can hardly even contain his excitement as he feels your hands on his bare sides, feeling him under his shirt. “So you do find me hot,” He says between kisses. “Shut up.” Finally, his torso is exposed to your hungry eyes, and you pull from his mouth to move to his neck. His long neck is one of his best features; on more than one occasion, you have wondered what it would be like to sink your teeth into that soft flesh. You may have even thought about it more than he has.

He tries not to lose himself too much, but it’s hard not to when you’re sucking at his sensitive skin. When you were teenagers, he’d often notice you walking around with hickeys on your chest and neck, hardly hidden behind makeup. He’d wonder sometimes how that would feel, as he often got no play because, frankly, you’re right; he does tend to pussyfoot around things. Of course as an adult, he’s fucked his fair share of girls, but really— this is the most excited he’s felt in a long, long time. Who’d have thought his most exciting bang would be with his best friend?

The strap of your tank top slides off your shoulder on its own, due to all the movement— he looks down at your bare skin and leans in to lick. You moan involuntarily at the feeling of his tongue, and that alone gives him goosebumps; to hear you make those sounds from something so small as his tongue… He pulls at your tank top, though he doesn’t bother to take it all off. He simply shoves it up to just above your boobs, and then he sees that measly little bralette you’re wearing. No wonder you wanted his hoodie; it’d be the only way to cover those pretty nipples in the cold. You feel a surge of wetness between your legs as he looks at your barely clothed breasts. He’s not hesitating; he’s admiring. “Have you always been this beautiful?” He asks, and it makes your blush. He’s never called you that before.

He notices you get shy at his compliment, and it makes him smile, “What? Did that actually make you blush?” “Shut up,” You say again, at a loss for any actual words. “Shut me up.” He challenges. You raise a brow at him, feeling emboldened by his bratty attitude. You want me to shut you up? Fine. You grab the hem of your bralette and pull it up and over your head, along with your tank top- leaving you bare from the waist up. His eyes widen as he takes in your naked form. Your boobs. Your actual boobs. His brain short circuits and you smile triumphantly at him, “Guess it worked.” He blinks a few times, regaining his composure, then instantly leans down to captured one of your pert nipples into his hungry mouth. “Shit,” You swear as you look down at him. He lets his tongue swirl over it, his mouth accidentally making a sucking noise.

You can’t take it anymore; you’re desperate for more than this, no matter how hot it is. “Fuck me, Yunho.” The words come so easily, despite how shy you were only a moment ago. It catches him by surprise and makes him immediately want to ravage you. He kisses you again, this time, his hands ravenously hooking around the waistband of your skimpy little booty shorts, yanking them downward as best he can while you’re sitting on the counter. You wiggle a bit, helping him get you completely nude. Your panties hardly stand a chance against his bruising force. Finally, your bare ass is on the counter— you’ll sanitize later— and he’s shoving his sweats to the floor.

You look down at what he’s working with, and you must admit, it’s quite the view. Heather gray boxer briefs, fitted nicely to his muscular legs— and right there, in all its glory— a wonderfully pronounced bulge, begging to be let out. He watches you watch him, and it makes his cock twitch. “You want it?” He asks, seeking your consent one last time, to which you respond with a breathy, “Yes.” He tugs down at his underwear until it lands at his ankles. He’s so long, you briefly wonder if it’ll even fit all the way in. He pulls you toward him, then reaches down in between your folds to rub at your hardened clit, getting you extra wet— though it’s apparent you hardly need any help with that, considering you’re practically dripping for him. He dips his fingers in and then rubs your slick along his cock. Suddenly, you envy every other girl that’s gotten this gorgeous view before you.

He gets closer, pumping his shaft a few times before teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. Finally, he slips it down from your clit down to your hole, and then inserts himself. Your eyes widen at the sudden fullness as he bottoms out, and he, too, has to take a second to brace himself, as the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him is almost too much to bear. You feel so much better than he could’ve imagine. Every ridge, every delicious constriction of your hot pussy is a threat to his sanity. “Fuck, Y/n,” He lets out a cracked moan, making you instantly hook your arm around his neck to bring him closer. “Yes, Yunho— oh fuck,” You moan, bouncing slightly as he pumps into you. He rests his forehead against yours as he continues, locking eyes with you, “You’re so fucking tight.” He continues thrusting, each one feeling deeper than the last.

You’ve had enough men to have favorites— and you easily see Yunho knocking number one out of his spot. There’s something that feels so much more raw about fucking your best friend than fucking some guy off an app. Part of it feels forbidden, while the other part feels like nothing could be more right than this. And the best part? The way he pauses in between thrusts to kiss you. You whine at him, your teeth clenched as you hiss, “You’re so big, Yunho…fuck, I can feel you stretching me out.” His heart stutters at your filthy words, and he suddenly scoops you up off the counter to hold you against his waist, his hands planted firmly on your ass cheeks as he drills into you. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” Your screams fill the apartment, giving his ego the fill it’s been in desperate need of. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon,” He breathes. “Yes, yes, cum for me—” You beg, holding tightly to him. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent as he feels it—

“Shit, I’m cumming,” He says into your ear, biting down on the lobe just hard enough to make your pussy throb. It all happens so fast, he doesn’t even pull out; just empty his load into your cunt— but he doesn’t stop there. Every last bit of strength on his body, he uses to hold you in place as he continues fucking up into you. “Fuck, I’m close,” You gasp. “Yeah?” His voice is so soft as he feeds into your whines, “Come on. I bet you look so pretty when you cum,” He kisses your lips so passionately, you feel yourself dissolving into him, until finally, your climax finally arrives. “I’m- I’m-” Your brain shuts off completely, giving your body away to the waves of your own orgasm. You don’t even realize you’re fully digging into Yunho’s back, which only serves to shock his sense into bringing on his second nut. “Fuck yes,” He groans, give you three more slams before he’s setting you back on the counter.

He pulls himself out of you swiftly, stepping back just in time to watch his thick, creamy cum fall out of your pussy, delighting in how utterly fucked out you look. “This was way better than burgers,” He says excitedly.

*Warning: Smut. Infidelity.

*Tags: older woman x younger man (San is his current age)

“We can’t keep doing this,” You cry quietly, your heart feeling so heavy in your chest. “Who says?” San asks, his voice so soft and gentle as he takes your face into his hands. He lifts your face to look up at his, and you want so desperately to give in to his touch; a touch you’ve let melt you all summer.

“San…” You whisper; a feeble attempt to stop him, though he and you both know you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop. He kiss your cheek; his lips are velvet soft, as is his gaze. “San…” You whisper again. He ignores you, kissing your cheek again— and then he sees one solitary tears fall from your sad and wanting eyes.

“Don’t cry…” He whispers, leaning in once more, only this time, he doesn’t kiss you; instead, he licks the tear from your face, savoring in its salty flavor. You’re not sure when your hands found their way to his waist, but you tug softly on his shirt, trying to to ground yourself reality.

“You don’t want me anymore…is that it?” He asks, furrowing his brows in that way gorgeous way he does when he’s trying to get you to break. “It’s not that I don’t, San. It’s that I can’t—” “Why can’t we…? You don’t love him,” He says, getting closer until he’s standing between your knees. “I do love him,” You close your eyes to try to think straight, but he just won’t let you, “Then why are you here…with me?” He asks, his nose brushing up against yours. “I- I don’t know-” “Yes, you do,” He whispers before catching your lips in a ravenous kiss.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, until your ass is half-way off your desk. Immediately, your skirt bunches up higher, and your clothed heat is right against the crotch of his slacks. He pushes himself against you, thrusting lightly; he’s so unbelievably hard, and he wants you to know it. “Can you honestly end it like this?” He says between hot kisses, “Knowing that this is how I get for you?” “San,” You sound like a broken record every time you’re with him; unraveling in his hands, a mess of sighs and San’s.

“He’ll never do it for you like this,” He says into your neck, licking your warm skin, making your eyes roll back, “When as the last time he ever made you feel how I feel?” He asks, continuing to rub himself against you, though he’s growing increasingly impatient with his own delay. “But I’m still married. It’s wrong to continue—” He cuts you off with another kiss.

San is like a hurricane; there is no resisting him. Sure, you could get up and walk out of your office right now and he wouldn’t stop you, but you know you’d just be miserable without him. He’s been the first thing in your life to make you feel this way in…ever. Not even when you and Hongjoong were first married and “in love,” did you ever feel this way. Excited, desired.

You gasp when you feel his hand drag upwards on your pussy; it feels so good, you forget you’re wearing panties still. He rubs circles against the thin fabric, his giant hands contrasting with the pretty lace. “Ah…” You sigh deliciously, making him smirk (and salivate). “What happened to stopping, huh?” He asks. You blush, feeling so stupid— you’re so full of protests until he hits that sweet spot. You’re so weak.

He’s experienced; that much you know. Though you’ve never had the courage to ask him. At first, you told yourself it was because you didn’t want to pry and it wasn’t any of your business— but really, it was because you didn’t want to feel so inferior, comparing your measly two bodies with all the women he’s probably had before you. He never asked you either, but he definitely knew; it was obvious— obvious in the way you blushed when he so much as complimented your perfume. It was obvious in the way you hardly knew your own body when he asked how you like it.

A grown, successful woman with only a shitty husband to show for all her years of hard work.

It made him want you even more.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he yanks down your panties completely, though he doesn’t toss them. No; why toss them when he can taste them? He holds your gaze as he lifts the black fabric to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent of your cunt. It makes his thick member throb with need for you. Then, you watch as he stretches out the crotch, licking at the wet spot as though it were candy. He loves to see you blush like this.

He holds your panties between his teeth as he slowly undoes the buttons on his shirt; it’s the most erotic sight in the world. You watch as he exposes himself to you, the definition on his large chest being the first thing you look at. You love his pecs; when he’d gotten you to admit to it, he had you ride his face and then cum all over his chest. You’d never done anything like that before; it was so thrilling. Finally, his shirt is completely unbuttoned, and he’s shrugging it off. Your mouth hangs open as you look at him, taking in the sight of his bare torso; your panties hanging from his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” You whisper; though it’s more like you’re saying it to the wind, rather than to him.!

He grabs your hand gently, and places it on his chest. Your breathing is labored as you allow your hand to move slowly along his warm flesh. Your wedding ring catches the light every so often, begging you to think of your husband— but you ignore it. Just as you have every other time you’ve let San fuck you dumb, deaf, and blind; you shove your husband completely out of your mind.

You move your face closer to San’s, and to his surprise, you bring your face impossibly close to his, taking the panties into your mouth. That finally makes him snap. Fast as lightning, he undoes his slacks and yanks down his underwear, releasing his veiny dick from its restraints. “Please don’t threaten to end this again,” He says, feigning hurt. Your eyes water again, and you nod. He likes this view; your mouth stuffed, eyes so sad and begging for him to fuck it better.

He grabs his length by the base, holding your leg steady as he plunges himself in. Immediately, he’s postponing inside of you, making you squeeze your eyes shut. It doesn’t hurt at all; it just makes you feel so unbelievably full. Filled to the fucking brim, actually. So full, you might spill over. Your whimpers are drowned by the lace, and it just drives him further. Whoever said older women were no good has clearly never had the privilege of being balls deep in your sweet cunt. His grunts, mixed with the squelching sounds of your wetness; it fills you with even more lust.

He’s merciless in his pace; perhaps he’s punishing you for emotional distress. The same hand he’d placed on his chest earlier, he grabs again and wraps it around his neck, making you hold on tight to him. His eyes are locked with yours as he slams into you. “You always say you’ll leave,” He says through labored breath, “but you know I’m what you want. You like how my young cock feels inside you, don’t you?” He talks dirty often, but this is far dirtier than anything he’s said before. “Mhm,” You respond, brows furrowing as he hits a nerve within you that may just drive you to the edge.

He yanks the panties out of your mouth and drops them to the floor, “Say it.” “I like it—” He slams into you, “Say the entire thing.” His teeth are clenched, his muscles tensing as he feels himself close. “I like how your young cock feels inside me,” You whine. His chest swells with pride. You’ve gone far too long without being fucked properly, and he’s made it his mission to do this as often as you’ll let him; to let you know that, despite what that fuck-ass husband tells you, you’re a fucking prize.

“Say you’ll never leave,” San hissed. “I’ll never leave.” “You swear?” “I swear, I swear, I swear—” You feel your pussy begin to get that familiar feeling. He knows that sound, and he brings his hand up to clutch at your hair, “That’s right, come on,” He begs for your orgasm like a dog begs for scraps of food. “Ah, ah, ah!” Your body tenses up before releasing a flood of your hot orgasm all over his pelvis. “Fuck yes,” He hisses again, using that as his last bit of motivation, slamming into you for just a few more thrusts before releasing his thick, creamy climax all over your puffy pussy lips. “Fuck,” He lets his head fall back as he milks his cock of the last few drops.

You both remain in this position, heaving, absolutely fucked out before he comes close again to kiss you. It’s a long, deep kiss, full of emotions that neither one of you have named yet,

And perhaps never will.

Warning: Smut

Pt.5 | Pt.7

You’re busy all day; school, grocery shopping, work— the kind of day when you’d ordinarily want to go home and rot in front of a screen until bedtime. However, you’re propelled further by the fact that you’re seeing him again today.

You wouldn’t usually see a guy so many days in a row; you’re not the clingy type, and certainly not in a place to date anyone seriously…But Yunho makes you want more and more. You just can’t help it. In fact, all day your mind has been in him: what’s he doing right now? Is he excited for later? I bet he is…

When you finally get home from work, around 6, you’re scrambling to get things in order. You unwrap that fuck ass “artisanal” cheese you bought and cut it into small, bite sized cubes. You arrange a nice spread of salami, prosciutto, nuts, capers, fruits— the whole shebang.

You then thoroughly wash your hands and walk over to your wardrobe to change into something that isn’t your work uniform. You settle on a long soft, long sleeved, black shirt that’s tied at the front (one loosened string and it’s over for you), and some nice, form fitting, black yoga pants. You examine yourself in the mirror and give your reflection a satisfied smile, “Oh yeah…I look the fuck good.”

Just as you’re setting out two wine glasses on the table, there’s a knock at your door. Your heart flutters in your chest, and you run to the mirror to give yourself one last look. It’s funny, the contrast between how nervous you are when you know he’s coming, versus how confident you are when you’re with him.

You take a deep breath, gently grabbing onto the handle and twisting it open. On the other side, Yunho stands there, holding a small, pink box that read, “Patissier Étoile.” When you open the door, he immediately straightens up, his ears burning up at the sight of you as he greets you with a shy smile.

The sight alone is enough to make you want to pounce on him.

“Hey,” You say simply, your voice soft as you lean up against the doorframe.

He can’t help but take in your beautiful form as you stand there; the way your all black outfit shapes to you, deliciously accentuating your curves. He notices that top, especially; how it’s held together by a simple knot, leaving a triangle of bare flesh— and, depending on the angle at which you stand, he can see the slightest sliver of the bottom of your breast. His heart is already pounding in his chest as he gives you a shy, “Hey,” in return.

You step aside and allow him to come in, “You look nice,” You say after shutting the door. Whereas the previous sessions with him, he’s dressed more casually, tonight, he’s wearing a loose fitting, black button up, tucked into black pants, along with a black coat, “We match,” You point out, motioning between him and yourself. He laughs sheepishly, “Oh, yeah— I guess we do.”

You look down at the box, “What’s this?” “Oh, this is uhm,” He looked down at the box, trying to give himself some time to work the nerve up to look you in the eyes, “This is for you…” He holds out the small box to you with both hands. Your eyes sparkle as you take it from him. You carefully open the lid, excited to see inside, and when you do, you see a singular, very beautiful cupcake sitting securely in the middle.

It’s got vanilla frosting, and has shreds of pretty, gold foil on top of it.

“Aw, it’s so pretty!” You say excitedly, turning to set it down at the table.

Yunho feels like a dog with a wagging tail when he hears the delight in your voice. He knew you’d like it. After a second, you tilt your head, “But there’s only one— you won’t have one?” You ask. He scratches the back of his neck, “Oh, I—” He tries to find some excuse for not getting one for himself, to not make you feel bad about the fact that that cupcake alone, with its frivolous sugar pearls, gold shavings, and Madagascar vanilla frosting, ran him about $25, “-I’m not a sweets person.”

You stand there, raising one eyebrow at him. You can tell he’s lying, and you immediately recall when you had gone together to that coffee shop, and he, himself, pointed out his insane sweet tooth. “Hm…is that right?” You ask, your words coming out slow. You cross your arms over your chest, making the tie on your blouse extra taut, threatening to come undone.

He shifts under your gaze, feeling nervous. It’s not like he’s lying maliciously, but he still wouldn’t want you to feel burdened by how much he’d spent on such a small thing.

“Yeah…but uhm…you go ahead and enjoy it, I’m sure it’s tasty…” He says, looking away.

“Should I give it a taste now, then?” You feel a wave of mischief come over you.

“Yes, of course…tell me what you think of it,” He says, trying to give you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry,” You respond with a smile of your own, though yours is much more calculated, “I will.”

You motion for him to sit down at your small, two-person table at the corner of your kitchen. He immediately goes to one of the chairs, and that’s when he notices the charcuterie board you’ve prepared, “Wow, this all looks great,” He shrugs off his coat and drapes it on the back of the chair.

Though this he’s wearing is still on the looser side, the fabric seems to be heavy and thin; it drapes nicely along his muscles and his chest, and in the middle. You’re hungry at the thought of freeing him of all those fucking clothes.

You don’t acknowledge his compliment to your efforts, instead, focusing on taking the cupcake out without ruining any part of it by letting it touch the box, itself; it’s like a game of Operation. When you finally get it out, you hold it up to examine it more closely, “You really did pick a very pretty cupcake for me, Yunho…”

He notices the shift in your tone, and it puts him on edge a bit, though it’s a feeling he’s growing to like more and more.

Slowly, you bring the cupcake up to your lips, and he watches them open to let your tongue lick at the frosting, carefully dodging the pearls. He feels like an adolescent boy, getting hard over something as simple as a woman eating a fucking pastry. And when you let out that low, sultry, “Mmm….” He has to actively remind himself to breathe. You turn to look at him, “It’s so good.” His mouth waters, “Y-yeah? That’s great.” “You sure you don’t want to taste?” “I’m-I’m fine.” “No, Yunho, I think you should really taste this,” You insist. “Okay, uhm…” He blinks rapidly, trying to form a coherent thought, “if you get a knife, I can cut it—”

“Don’t be silly,” You walk over to him, cutting him off abruptly by slowly swinging your leg over so that you’re straddling him; cupcake still in hand, and face now inches from his. He feels like his heart may break out of his chest and run away from him. How can you do things like this so easily, while he crumbles into millions of pieces. He stares up at you, his brown eyes making you want to devour more than just the cupcake.

Fuck the artisanal cheese and cold cuts; right now, it’s just you, him, and Madagascar vanilla.

“Open,” You say gently, looking down at his pretty lips. Slowly, his lips part, and he brings his tongue out to lick the cupcake that you’re holding so close to his mouth. “Isn’t it delicious?” You say, a smile playing on your face. He nods, exploring the flavor on his tongue (as much as he can with such little focus).

You switch to hold the cupcake in one hand, while your free hand plucks a sugar pearl off, “Stick out your tongue.” He obeys so easily, and you gently place the pearl right in the center, “Keep it there.”

His tongue remains sticking out of his mouth, his heart beating fast when he sees you put the cupcake down behind you in the table, and then slowly lean in.

The last two times you’d hung out together, you were carefully to leave him wanting more, which is why you didn’t kiss him before. Well, this moment is what you’ve been building up to, and if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve wanted this just as badly as he does.

Your hands come up to his neck, resting gently to steady yourself, until finally, your mouth opens to receive his tongue, your lips pressing against his in a delicious lock.

Somehow, as though on instinct, Yunho begins to move his tongue in tandem with yours, passing the pearl back and forth, playing until it’s completely dissolved in the exchange— but the kiss does not end there.

You take his arms and rest them on your waist, and he can’t help but hold on tightly. Your lips are so much more than he imagined: soft, warm, inviting— he wonders if you can feel how hard he is under you right now.

You definitely can.

Slowly, you begin to move back and forth, just as you had on that first day he’d come to your apartment, only this time, he gets the courage to hold onto you, pulling you down slightly— just so he can get a little more pressure.

“Mm…” He moans, which only fuels your desire for him.

You bring one of your hands up to his hair; it’s so soft and silky. You wonder what kind of sound he’d make if you just…

You ball your hand into a fist in his hair, then yank without warning; it’s not too hard— just enough. “Ah,” He yelps. “God, Yunho…you’re so perfect,” You praise him, delighted in how he lets himself be manhandled like this.

His ex? That stupid bitch didn’t know what she had.

His cheeks are so rosy and flushed— perfect shade to match his lips and nose.

“You’re a goddess,” He says breathlessly, looking up at you in a way that is so genuine, it almost makes your heart ache.

And you haven’t even fucked him yet.

You give him one more kiss before finally getting off of him— the sudden absence of your weight in his lap almost pulls out whine from him.

Gently, you pull him by the collar of his shirt, and he rises with you; the way he so easily follows makes you really wanna slap yourself for not buying a leash for tonight.

It’s probably a funny sight; seeing a man so tall, hunched over slightly, being controlled by you as though he were your lap dog.

“Get on your knees.”

He stares at you for a moment, processing your command; your firm tone sends shivers down his spine, and he immediately kneels before you. You smile down at him, and gently caress the side of his face. This time, he leans into it, letting his lashes flutter for you.

“Good boy.”

His heart races, and his stomach does flips at your words. He’s never been more excited in his life.

You turn toward your bed and bend down, reaching for something on your bed. He can’t help but get an eyeful of your beautiful ass. He wants to take a bite. He’s a good boy.

When you finally grab whatever it is you need, you spin around to show him; it’s a partially lace/satin strip of fabric. He looks at it, then up at you, wondering what it is you want. “Put it on,” You hold it out for him.

His hand shakes as he takes it from you, though it’s not out of fear; it’s pure, unadulterated desire.

He’d only tried asking for this once before, from his ex girlfriend. He started to build up the nerve to bring it up, but when he even uttered the word “blindfold”, she just asked if he was some sort of sexual deviant. She made him doubt himself for a long time afterward; was he truly as weird as she made him feel he was?

“Yunho.” Your words bring him out of his head, and he snaps into action.

“S-sorry,” He says, quickly putting the fabric up to his eyes and tying it.

“Do you not want to do this? We don’t have to—” You offer, sensing his hesitation. You wouldn’t compromise his safety for your own sexual gratification, after all.

“No, no, I do!” He says hurriedly, “I was just…in my head.” He reassures you, sitting on his hinds, hands in his lap, eyes completely covered.

You don’t respond right away; you just stare at him. He looks so beautiful right now, kneeling on your apartment floor, dressed in all black, waiting for your next move.

You’re so quiet, he wonders if you’ve dissolved into thin air.

“What were you thinking about?” You ask curiously, breaking the silence.

“W-what?”

“What had you in your head?”

He lets out a deep breath, and you think he might try to tell you it’s nothing, but instead, he’s honest:

“I was thinking about my ex girlfriend.”

You furrow your brows, “Oh? What about her?”

“I was thinking about…when I had asked her to…try a blindfold on me,” He says timidly.

“What’d she say to your request?” You ask, but you can already guess what her reaction probably was.

“She…she called me a…” He feels a pang of shame as he recalls the memory; residual, unresolved feelings, he supposes, “sexual deviant.”

“Are you?” You ask.

Although his initial reactions to the kinds of questions you ask, are to feel embarrassed or put on the spot, he actually loves it; you ask questions that force him to address parts of himself that he’s never had the courage or awareness to address.

“I…I don’t know.”

“You wanna know what I think?” You ask, stepping closer.

He can feel your presence pushing in on him, “What do you think?”

“I think the fact that you had to ask to be blindfolded proves that she just wasn’t the one for you,” You squat down in front of him and plant an unexpectedly tender kiss on his lips.

She IS a goddess, he thinks as he relishes in the feeling of your mouth on his.

You pull away finally, and then stand back up, “Unbutton your shirt.”

A contrast to the first night in your apartment; you’d wanted to be the one to take his shirt off then, but tonight, you’re hungry for a show.

He brings his hands up to the buttons of his shirt, and you take a seat on your bed, watching him as he undoes each button, one by one. With every one he undid, another sliver of skin showed, until there was nothing left to unbutton.

He wishes he could see your reactions; part of the fun is being able to see if you’re satisfied with what he’s doing…although he must admit— the feeling of not knowing is also thrilling.

“Undo your pants.”

His breath catches, an exhilarated feeling radiating throughout his body as he straightens up to be able to unbutton his pants and bring down the zipper.

“Should I take them off?” He asks, voice shaky with excitement.

“Not yet.”

He rests his hands on his lap again, his fingertips rubbing the fabric; another nervous habit as he waits for your next command. He furrows his brows a bit as he hears rustling and movement on your end.

You stand up and slide your pants off, letting them fall in a pool of fabric at your ankles before stepping out of them, leaving you in just your top and panties. He can’t see you, which gives you an extra boost of confidence.

You don’t really have a plan or anything; last night, when you’d told him to come over, you just knew you wanted him close again. There was no blindfold or specific act you wanted to carry out…but it’s like the moment you saw him standing on the other side of your door, it all materialized before you.

It’s easy to be imaginative when you have such a willing participant.

“Stay there,” You say gently, your own voice sounding unstable— possibly due to the rapid beating of your own heart that makes it hard to breathe;

You walk over to him again, slowly— each light footstep and labored breath sounding so loud in such a quiet room. He feels the warmth radiating off of you again, and it makes his heart flutter.

Suddenly, he feels your hand on the upper, back part of his head, and he wonders if you might pull him in for another kiss— but then his forehead comes into contact with what feels like warm skin, and when he adjusts his head a bit, his nose grazes some sort of fabric. At first, he doesn’t understand, but then…it clicks.

You look down at him, his confusion turning into understanding when his nose gently rubs against the lacy fabric of your panties. His lips part and his fingers grip the fabric of his now cumbersome pants. It’s too bad you didn’t ask him to take them off so you could really see what he was feeling.

“You’ve never eaten pussy before…” It’s not a question, as he’d already pretty much answered that last time; it’s more like you’re just thinking out loud.

“No…I haven’t,” He says in the smallest voice in the world.

“Do you want to?” Again, you already know the answer; he’d tried it that night when he fixed your fan, but you didn’t let him.

“Yes,” You can hear that delicious desperation in his voice, “please…please let me.”

You love hearing him beg.

Gently, you pull his face further, until it’s pressing into your upper pelvic area. He doesn’t know what he should do, so he just does what he knows he wants to do. He turns his head slightly, feeling the lace fabric against his cheek. All the while, you pet his hair, watching him explore. He then surprises you by pressing his nose into it and breathing in.

The perfume you’re wearing, mixed with the natural, light, musky smell of your core— it makes his cock stiffen all the more; so much so, it becomes painful. It’s funny; he’s the one on his knees, but you’re the one feeling a little vulnerable.

“You can pull them down…” You say, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. Immediately, he brings his hands up, feeling around to get his bearings; and when he feels your thighs, he can’t help but want to squeeze. Instinctively, he kisses the smooth skin of your upper thigh, building himself up to finally take down your panties. Without his sight, all he can do is rely on the taste and feeling of your body against his tongue and fingertips— but he’s not complaining one bit.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls down slowly. Your chest heaves in excitement as you feel the breeze in your newly exposed flesh. “I like how you touch me…” You whisper to him.

He tilts his head up at you as though he can see you, and even though you know he can’t, it still makes you blush. You look at his lips— the way they quirk up into that cute, retriever smile. You can’t wait to wipe that beautiful smile off of his face.

Finally, he’s ready to try; he brings his face back to its original position, and timidly sticks his tongue out, just as he had when he tasted the cupcake. The taste…he didn’t know what he expected it to taste like, but he finds this is even better than anything he could’ve imagined. It’s not strong; just as mild as its smell— mixed with the teensiest bit of salt.

His tongue longs to learn more; he licks again and again, mentally mapping out what exactly your pussy might look. Already, he can tell he’s gonna love it when you let him take this blindfold off.

You watch as his curiosity builds; you lashes flutter at the feeling of his tongue flittering and nudging at you. At first, the sensation is very gentle; at times, you don’t fully feel it until he adds a little more pressure. Then suddenly, he places his mouth and nose in such a way, then moves his face side to side— similar to a dog’s snout when it’s trying to unbury a treat— and it makes you gasp with unexpected pleasure.

His face turns red, loving the sounds you’re making.

He continues for a little while, but you know you won’t cum like this; you’re gonna have to relax. “Yunho,” You say, stopping him.

“Yes?” He asks breathlessly, his nose shining with your arousal.

You don’t answer, but he hears you walk away from him. He’s so hungry for more, but so at your mercy that he can’t imagine moving without your say so. Your bed creaks softly.

“Crawl to me.”

He swallows hard, feeling his heart pound at your request. Slowly, he leans forward, adjusting himself so he’s fully on his hands and knees. Your stomach does a flip at the sight of it. He doesn’t hurry, imagining you probably find pleasure in seeing him in such a pathetic position, and like the good boy he is, he aims to please. He crawls slowly, deliberately, and you watch. You watch with your mouth open, eyes so full of lust as this grown ass man blindly comes to you.

Finally, he reaches out and feels your legs again. He can imagine you, sitting there, watching him in that way that you do; like a starving lioness. In truth, you do scare him a little, but only in the way you make him feel so bare. Gently, he kisses your legs; starting at your shins as he holds on to your ankles, and then he kisses your knees and thighs again.

“What do you want, Yunho?” You ask, the same way you had on your first night together.

You’re not sure how you were expecting him to answer, but what he says makes you melt.

“To see you.”

Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San

Prompt: You’re best friends with (ATEEZ member) and are in need of a little no-strings loving; could he be the one to help with that?

Warning: Smut (obviously, hello)

A/n: This is gonna be a bunch of parts (one for each member) and I will be uploading in installments. Okay bye <3.

2.) Hongjoong

"Aaayyyy!" Everyone cheers as Hongjoong makes the shot, the ping pong falling into one of Yunho's and Seonghwa's cups. Hongjong throws his hands up in the air, shouting victoriously, "Come on, now. This is easy work!" "Lucky shot!" Seognhwa says, giving a thumbs down. "Fuck you. Take your turn," Hongjoong waves him away.

You and Hongjoong had arrived at the party about two hours ago, and you were both feeling a little buzzed by now, which is the only reason you felt bold enough to participate in the game of beer pong at the far corner of the room; you're usually very self-aware about your poor coordination for these kinds of games, and try to avoid them at all cost. Of course, Hongjoong,being the whiner that he is, convinced you to be his teammate.

Yunho carefully measures his shot, adusting and readjusting his hand until he could get the perfect path to the cop. He launches it with the precision of an eagle swooping in for its prey, and it lands in the furthest corner of your set of cups. You groan, and some of the crowd boos while the other cheers. "Drink up!" Yunho says with a smirk, dapping Seonghwa up. You grab the cup and throw your head back, taking every last drop of the piss-nasty liquid. You fucking hate beer. Hongjoong pats your back, encouraging you. You crush the cup and hold it over the head, and again, the crowd errupts in cheers. You toss the cup aside and stand in the center of your side of the table, taking the pingpong into your hand. Hongjoong watches you intently, trying to have faith but knowing you're terrible at this game. You toss the ball, only for it to bounce once and then land on the floor.

"Ha! You're so ass at this game," Seonghwa laughs, "Looks like we'll be winning that $100 afterall." "Hey, hey, hey, don't celebrate prematurely," Hongjoong says, pounding his chest, "There's still time in this game!" "Not with the way Y/n's playing," Yunho snorts. Seonghwa grabs the ball and lines himself up; however, when he tosses the ball, it manages to hit the rim of two joined cups, and bounce onto the floor. "HA!" You jump up and point, "GUESS YOU'RE ASS AT THIS GAME TOO!" "Ass!? It almost made it!" Soenghwa said defensively. "Don't make excuses, Seonghwa," Hongjoong says smugly as he gets the ball next. He walks back to his spot.

You're momentarily distracted by some rustling in the crowd, but then you feel a gentle touch at the small of your back. You turn your head and realize it's Hongjoong. The touch makes your body shiver, though not unpleasantly. Without even noticing your reaction, he leans in to whisper in your ear, "Watch how I do it so you can try to do the same, okay?" His voice tickles your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You blink a few times, nodding in agreement, though your words evade you. What a weird feeling... You think, though you quickly shake it off and try to focus. You begin to watch him as he focuses, but then your thoughts begin to drift off to the way his side profile looks; his sharp jawline, intense eyes, and undercut hair working together to make him look particularly handsome tonight...

A burst of hoots and hollers snaps you out of your daze after the pingpong lands in a cup, and it forces you to tear your eyes away. You almost slap yourself for thinking such a thought about Hongjoong. "You see? That's all you gotta do," Hongjoong says with a big smile, draping his arm around your shoulders. He's not a huge touchy-feely kind of guy, but you're used to the slight increase of physical affection when he's a little drunk. No big deal. No big deal at all...but then, why are your shoulders suddenly burning under the weight of his...defined, muscular arm...and why is his cologne making you salivate? I must be really drunk, you think, letting out a deep sigh.

Yunho's ball lands again, and you watch Hongjoong pick it up and chug it. Again, his sharp jawline captivates you, and when you see drops of beer falling down his neck? How you didn't start barking then and there is beyond you. He slams the cup down onto the floor, "Alright, Y/n. You're turn," He says, handing you the ball. You swallow, feeling the pressure. Fuck, I really should've paid attention when he was showing me how to do it. What was it again? Center the-- suddenly, you feel Hongjoong come up behind you, his body flush against your backside as he brings his arms up to fix your hands. "Line it up right to Yunho's ugly ass face," Hongjoong says, his voice low and deep. You try to focus, but it's so hard to do so like this. What the fuck is even going on with you? "Hold on," He says, and then his hand is pushing down on your lower back, adjusting your posture for you. You can't help the sudden flash of heat between your legs. "Okay...launch it," He says in that same low tone as before. You do as he says, throwing it gently; just enough for it to give one small bounce and then land in the last cup.

One last celebration in the crowd, but it isn't until Hongjoong is cheering loudly and pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms lingering on your waist, "You did it!" "I- I did it!" You say, eyes wide as you see how happy he is. Yunho and Seonghwa, on the other hand, are rolling their eyes and going into their pants pockets, irritatedly slamming the money down onto the table just in front of you. Hongjoong takes his half and then folds your half over and shoves it into your backpocket. It makes you shiver again. "Come on. Let's go find some air, I'm sweating fucking bullets," He says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd. You follow him without protest (not that you have a choice, as he’s got a death grip on your arm).

There are crowds at every entrance; densely packed bodies, making it impossible to walk outside without a fight. “Up here,” He says, leading you up the steps, remembering that Mingi’s bedroom has a balcony they can go to. Finally, you make it into the bedroom and close the door behind you. At last, the music that’s blaring downstairs is now just a low, distant hum. “Finally, some peace and fucking quiet,” Hongjoong exhales loudly, making his way to the French doors leading to Mingi’s balcony. “Hey, it was your idea to come here,” You laugh, “Super random, by the way. You usually hate loud parties like this.” He opens the doors wide, letting the night breeze blow through the bedroom. You’re a bit further behind Hongjoong, but the wind is strong enough to reach you, drying off the bit of sheen that’d started building on your skin. He shrugs, “Just wanted to try something new, I guess.”

His silhouette is lit up by the moonlight, and you almost wish you had a camera to capture the scene. He looks like some kind of ethereal creature. He walks out further, to the railing. He’s glad he remembered about the balcony, as it’s the only place just out of view from the people below. You walk up quietly behind him. He snorts at the memory of your winning beer pong throw. “Can’t believe we won the money” “I can’t believe you bet it to begin with,” You roll your eyes, “You know how bad I am at that kind of shit.” He laughs, “I was just feeling so alive…blame the alcohol.” “Hmph,” You snort, leaning forward so the railing is cutting into your stomach.

For some reason, Hongjoong’s glance back, accidentally noticing the swell of your backside as you bend forward, and how your skirt rises entirely too much. His eyes widen for a second before he forces them to tear away. The fuck was that feeling…? He scratches the back of his neck, “It’s uh…nice out tonight, huh?” “It is,” You stare up at the moon, “Full moon out.” “Yeah,” He nudges your shoulder a bit, “You scared?” “Of..?” “Creatures.” “The only creature here is you,” You snort, “And you couldn’t harm a fly.” “You only say that because you haven’t seen me in action,” He strikes a pose meant to convey skill, but just comes off as Zoolander, smizing toward some invisible camera. You can’t help but laugh out loud, “Oh God.” “I’m serious!” He smiles, showing his perfect teeth. He looks pretty when he smiles like that— even as he sways a little bit from the buzz. “No, I definitely sense that you’re trying to be serious.” “I could take you, easily,” He says, returning to his relaxed position, leaning on the railing again. “I’d like to see you try.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah,” You raise your brows, stepping off the railing and standing completely still, challenging him.

He stares at you for a minute, playing into the joke— he pretends to size you up and everything…that is, until his eyes properly roam over your body. He notes your outfit for tonight, which he hadn’t noticed before (besides the tight black skirt, of course): a black tube top that ends just above your pierced naval, high heels that make your calf muscles tense in the most beautiful way. How hadn’t he noticed before? “I’m…drunk, I think,” He suddenly says. You furrow your brows, giving a little laugh, “Why do you say that?” “Because…” His smile fades, and he swallows the saliva that’s been pooling in his mouth, “I…want to kiss you right now…”

His words make your heart jump in your chest, and you suddenly feel yourself get hot— just like you did during beer pong. “You are drunk,” You scoff, trying to deflect from your own feelings. “I must be…” He agrees. You turn your back to him again, your finger nails gently scraping the railing so you have something to focus on besides his face. You suddenly feel so aware of his presence behind you, and it makes your curiosity grow…

“I uhm…think I wanna get better at beer pong…you know, for next time,” You try to sound casual, but your voice comes out more timid, “Can you…teach me how to throw the ball again? Like…how you did downstairs?” It doesn’t take him longer than a beat or two to understand what it is you’re asking for. “Oh…sure, yeah…” Slowly, he comes up behind you, his body flush against you once more, just as it was then. Your perfume is so delicious, instantly drawing him in in a way it never has before; he feels like one of Poison Ivy’s victims when she blows her love-dust. He gently guides your hips further back, and that’s when you feel it; that hard bulge that makes you blush.

“Posture’s everything, you know…” He says in a low, dark voice as he looks down between the both of you, where your ass meets his pelvis. “Of course,” You say, turning your head slightly to hear him a little better. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest; despite how smooth he seems outwardly, inwardly, he’s going mentally back and forth about whether or not this is a good idea…but then here you are, practically bent over right in front of him; you’re already too far gone to turn back now, right? God, he hopes so.

“You know, Y/n, this skirt,” He reaches down to play with the hem of it, “it’s way too short for beer pong…” “Is it…?” You ask breathlessly, getting excited. “Mhm…you pick up a ball and oops—” He raises it up further, “the whole world gets a look.” “Y-you’re right,” Your body shivers as his fingertips graze your ass cheek, “Maybe I should just take it off then, right?” Your suggestion makes him shiver, “Take it off?” He echoes, raising the skirt up all the way now so it’s resting on your waist, “Maybe it’s better as a belt.”

The cool breeze blows against your bare ass, as you’d chosen to go with a thong for the night. You didn’t know you’d be getting any, but you always leave room for the possibility; you just didn’t realize the possibility was riding in the Uber next to you on the way to the party. “Why are you wearing a thong with such a short skirt?” He asks, partially admiring the sight, partially scolding you. Even outside of this moment, he’s always been so protective. “What are you, my dad?” You scoff. “Keep it up, Y/n,” He says in a warning tone, gently bringing his hands to rest on your ass. “Or what, Oppa? You gonna punish me?”

Hearing you call him that— a word you’ve never used with him before— it makes his pupils dilate, like some switch has been flipped within him. Suddenly, his hand comes crashing down on your ass. You yelp in both pain and pleasure. You can practically feel your pussy pulsing at the sensation. “Don’t be too loud, Y/n, they’ll hear you…” He says, hushing you as he smooths your ass with his hand. “Maybe they already have,” You say, trying to catch your breath, “Maybe they’re on their way and they’ll walk in on us any moment…” “Then what do you suggest we do?” He asks, speaking slowly in response to your sultry voice. You suddenly straighten out a bit, just enough to wear your ass is still pushed up against him, but your mouth is much closer to his ear, “Let’s be quick.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, he takes your torso into his arms, one of his hands coming up to cup your breast, while the other shoves your thong to the side, “A quick fuck? That’s what you want?” He whispers into your ear. Your eyes roll back as you feel his fingers dip into your heat, “You’re so wet,” He says, his tone slightly surprised, “Don’t tell me you’ve been building this up since we were playing downstairs…” you blush wildly because you have, indeed, been so turned on since he first came up behind you during the game; you’d just tried to deny it. “You must be drunk too then,” He chuckles darkly, though it slowly fades as he take his fingers out of you and undoes his belt and button on his jeans. With expert precision, he’s bringing his pants and his boxer briefs down; just enough to take out his stiff cock.

“You sure you want it…?” He asks. “Yes,” You assure him, pressing your ass into his pelvis, urging him to put it in. Despite whatever doubts race in your mind about whether or not it’s a good idea, what you know for sure is that your pussy is aching to be stretched, and he’s just the right guys to help with that ache. He aligns himself to your hole, gently dragging his tip of and down your pussy, getting you ready. His teeth are clenched as he excitedly braces himself for the moment he can see what you feel like—

“Ah…” You sigh as he slips himself inside. You can’t see him, of course, but his eyes close as he allows himself to feel it; the tightness, the slick way in which he so easily slides in. Despite his smaller frame, Hongjoong is as hung as he acts, it pains you to say. At least his arrogance is merited. He goes slow at first, resting the waters, but then he remember the scenario you both created; everyone downstairs, enjoying the party, has supposedly heard you yelping, and they’re all gonna be up here any moment to bust down that fucking door…

He’s gotta be quick.

He begins building up speed, and you find yourself leaning over that balcony railing, your hands clutching tightly to steady yourself as he pounds into you. “Ah, ah, ah…mmmmmm,” You whine. His hand clutches your ass cheek tightly, rippling your skin under his grip. “Shit, Y/n…you’re so fucking tight,” His pelvis begins slapping against you, and he begins to sweat a bit by his brow. You try to stifle yourself as much as possible, but it’s hard to do when he starts hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside you that makes it impossible to stay quiet. “Hongjoong, I want you to cum inside me,” You say in a ragged, breathy voice. He furrows his brows, slowing down (but absolutely not stopping), “Wh-what? Are you sure?” “I’m sure— I’m on the pill.,” You assure him. Of course you’re on the fucking pill; part of him feels like this fuck is too good to be true.

He continues railing you, occasionally checking in to make sure you’re okay, until finally, he feels himself at the edge, “Shit…” His head tilts back as he focuses, “Y/n, I’m gonna cum,” He says in a low voice. “Come on, Hongjoong,” You coax him, your hand diving between your legs to help get you there too, as you rub in quick, tight circles on your clit. Within seconds, you’re there too. He grabs into your hips, yanking you back and forth into him as he chases his pleasure, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He groans, “I’m cumming,” His eyes roll back in euphoria as his orgasm washes over him like waves. Hearing his voice strain, feeling his hips stutter as he busts inside you— it’s enough to drive you to your pleasure too, and soon, you’re cumming all over his cock too, “Hongjoong!” You scream his name, and he rushes to cover your mouth. He’s delights in your muffled whines, and even catches a stray tear that falls from your eye. He’s never seen you like this before…so pretty…so utterly destroyed.

He can’t help but wanna see you like this again.

Hongjoong | Yunho | Yeosang | San |

Prompt: You’re best friends with (ATEEZ member) and are in need of a little no-strings loving; could he be the one to help with that?

Warning: Smut (obviously, hello)

A/n: This is gonna be a bunch of parts (one for each member) and I will be uploading in installments. Okay bye <3.

1.) Seonghwa

You stare down at his message, your heart doing this weird stuttering thing. When he told you he’d be going on a blind date tonight, you’d lectured him about making sure he wasn’t dressed like a nerd so he’d actually have a chance of getting laid, so when he texted you earlier asking if you could check his outfit, you’d agreed. You’ve done it a million times before, so you thought nothing of it when you opened the picture attachment— what you didn’t expect was how your mouth would involuntarily water at the sight of him in that fitted black tee shirt, his muscles on display like caramel candies in a candy shop window; relaxed black hair falling gently in the way of his sleek glasses— glasses you’d initially made fun of him for choosing last week at Costco because you thought they would look silly.

The fuck is happening to me? You type out a simple, quick response and then toss your phone away from you. Admittedly, it’s been a while since you last had a good, decent night’s fuck. Between work, work, and more work, you haven’t been going out as often and have been relegated to rotting away on this very couch any time you have a free moment to spare. Of course, that doesn’t alleviate your horniness. That must be it, you think, I’m just horny. It’s not Seonghwa— it’s the desperation talking.

It’s been about three hours since you’d responded to Seonghwa’s text, and you’ve been mindlessly staring at the TV screen. A bowl of untouched popcorn sits next to you, and you have a bottle of lukewarm beer in your hand. Life is so boring sometimes, isn’t it? Just as you’re about to take another swig of your drink, your phone dings. You pick it up to see another text from—

Seonghwa: You up?

Yes, you type out, and not a minute later, there’s a knock at your door. You sigh at the thought of having to get up, but you don’t delay in doing so. As soon as you open the door, you see Seonghwa, holding a case of beer in hand, a sly smile on his face, “My date was shit; wanna get drunk?” You swallow as you take in the outfit in person, although in addition, he’s also wearing a jacket: he looks even better than the picture, somehow. You tear your eyes away from him and step aside to let him in, “You’re a nuisance.” He ignores you and walks right in, putting the case down on your coffee table and shedding his jacket, revealing his arms again. You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, trying to get yourself together.

He doesn’t even notice your internal struggle, as he plops down on your couch, “What we watching?” “You were already on your way here before I even responded— what would you have done if I was asleep?” “Laughed at you from outside your window for being such a loser for falling asleep at—” he checks his watch, “9PM on a Friday night.” You roll your eyes and push past his legs, which he’s propped up on your coffee table. “You’re not very good at hosting,” He snorts, grabbing your remote and scrolling through movies and shows. “You’re not a guest,” You say, snatching the remote from him. As you settle into the couch, you can’t help but get a good whiff his cologne— one you’ve never smelled before. “New cologne?” You ask casually, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He nods, “You noticed? Yeah, I got it last week when I went to the mall with Wooyoung. What do you think?” Without missing a beat, he leans over into your space, extending his neck for you to smell. You feel your cheeks burn at the sudden closeness, and it makes you wanna slap yourself. You pretend to sniff the air from where you are, “Yeah, it’s- it’s nice.” “No, no. Get a good smell— you’re too far.”

Reluctantly, you lean in until your nose is centimeters from his throat. The smell envelopes you; a delicious gourmand fragrance, notes of vanilla and coffee mingling together to make for an attractive, dizzying smell. For a second, you almost forget where you are, until his voice draws you out, “It’s good huh?” You blink back into reality, immediately pulling away, “Yep. It’s nice.”

“See, that’s how my date was,” He says, pointing at the screen as an extra comes into the frame to hand the main character a folder. You cork your brows in confusion, “What do you mean? She was on screen for like two seconds.” “Exactly,” He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth, “She was like…a side character. An NPC, you know? Boring. Not bad, not great, just— I don’t know, barely there, I guess.” “Good thing she didn’t hear you say all this about her,” You wince on her behalf. “I don’t feel like I’m asking for much though, right? I don’t need anything serious; I just want someone even mildly interesting to talk to before we— you know?” “I don’t know…I think it’s hard to find that. Trust me, I’ve looked.” “You should get on the apps, dude. I’m telling you, once you weed out the lame-o’s, it’s fun.”

You wave him away, “Eh, I’m good. I prefer to meet people organically.” “Hey, I do too but sometimes…it’s too urgent to wait around trying to hit on girls at the club.” “Then couldn't it have been urgent enough to look past your date’s boringness?" You snort, crossing your legs. Your movement catches his eye, and when he glances over, he gets an eyeful of your thigh that's left uncovered by your very short shorts. He clears his throat and looks away. Maybe it IS getting urgent, he thinks. "Well, what about you? You hardly ever go out anymore. Is it not urgent for you?"

His question makes you blush. It's not that sex, in and of itself, is a rare topic between the both of you, but he's never asked such a direct question before. You shrug, "Guess I can just hold off longer than some people." This time, he's the one to snort, rolling his eyes, "Oh, please." "What? It's true." "Bullshit. Everyone has a limit." "Yes, but I haven't hit mine yet." "Okay, so how long has it been for you?" "How long has it been since I--?" You trail off, unsure if he's asking what you think he is. "Yes, since you had sex. How long has it been?" He repeats. "We are not having this conversation." "Don't be lame. Weren't you the one telling me to dress better so I can get laid? Why are you being so shy now," He laughs, gently shoving your shoulder. You roll your eyes, "That was different." "And why was it different?" "Because you're you, and I'm me."

He puts his hands around his mouth like a makeshift megaphone and raises his voice to say, "Boo!" He gives you an exaggerated thumbs down. "You're insufferable," You exhale, "Fine. It's been...about four months?" He almost chokes on his beer, coughing his lungs out. "You're being so extra right now, I swear," You glare at him. He coughs a few more times, beating his chest to try to recover, "I'm sorry--," Another cough, "I-I just didn't expect it to have been so long," He finally lets out a steady breath, leaning back as though to pretend he wasn't as shocked as he was by your response.

"So you've gone four months without anything? Like at all?" "Yup," You sip from your own bottle, watching the screen with feigned interest. "That's self-control right there. Only way I'd survive is by like...I don't know, jacking off every night or something." You remain completely silent, your cheeks burning. You're trying to remain calm, cool, collected, but then you hear him inhale sharply, "No way...don't tell me--" He leans forward to look at you, but you turn your face slightly away, unwilling to meet his gaze. "You dirty dog," He smiles teasingly. "I think it's time for you to go home," You hiss. "Wait, wait, wait-- I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make fun of you. It's totally normal, you know. I do it, you--" He sniggers, "You do it. We all do it. Nothing to be ashamed of." "Stop talking." "Can I ask...how many times a week?" "I'm not answering you." "Three times?" He asks giddily. Silence. "Is it...four times?" Silence. "Oh my God...it really is every night, isn't it?" "Seonghwa, do you ever mind your own business? Like ever?" "It is not something I'm known for, no," He smirks, "Why be so weird about it? Come on, we're friends. Friends talk about these things, right?"

You groan, turning to him and shoving him like he'd done to you, "Shut up." Of course, this only makes him want to push your buttons more, "Like I said, it's normal-- I just didn't realize girls do it as often as we do," He laughs. You're about to go for putting your hands around his neck to choke him out, your signature move for when you want him to shut up, but he anticipates it and puts his hands up to grab your wrists, his smile ever present, "Ha!" You both struggle against one another, and for a second, it looks like you might win, but he manages to get enough leverage to push you backwards, your back hitting the couch cushions as you're forced to lay down. "Just admit it and I'll leave you alone!" He laughs. You furrow your brows as you try to push him, though you quickly realize it's no use-- he's got you pinned. "Ugh, fine-- I do it, okay? I touch myself. I do it damn near every fucking night. I do it in my bed, I do it in the shower, I do it on this very fucking couch. Happy?" Your words seem to pour out all at once, in a way he hadn't expected. He's stunned to silence, staring down at you. After a moment, you, too, fall into silence, remaining in this position while the both of you try to sort through the myriad of thoughts racing through your heads.

Suddenly, as though on pure, animalistic instinct, he's letting go of your wrists and crashing his lips onto yours. Without hesitation, your body receives him; you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close. His knee is in between your legs, as he'd been propping himself up on it while you were battling it out-- though now, it's creeping closer and closer to your clothed crotch. You release one of your arms from around his neck and bring your hand to the side of his face. He melts into your warmth so easily-- like holding a chocolate coin in the palm of your hand. One of his arms continues to prop him up, while the other immediately comes down to your waist, squeezing firmly enough to make you feel it. "Seonghwa," You say breathlessly, "What are we doing?" "I don't know," He responds just as breathlessly, meeting your lips once more.

Slowly, his hand travels up, roaming until it's just about to grab your breast. Conveniently enough, you're not even wearing a bra, as you'd not expected visitors for the night. You're in between losing yourself completely to his touch, and wanting to somehow anchor yourself in reality for just a moment longer. "Seonghwa, wait--" Your hand comes up to his chest to stop him, "We're- we're gonna fuck things up, we gotta stop." "Fuck things up how?" He asks, looking down at you, his lips so red and plump; the sight makes you so fucking wet already. No. Focus. "Come on, friends sleeping together never ends well." "Says who?" He furrows his brows, genunely confused, "You're horny, I'm horny-- it's like scratching an itch." "Scratching an itch..." You echo hesitantly. "Yes, an itch. Things are only weird if we make it weird, right? Why make it complicated." You think for a moment, considering what he's saying...maybe he's right; it'll only be as fucked up as you both fuck it up...

You're not sure if it's because you really agree with him, or if the weight of his body laying deliciously on top of yours just clouds your judgment, but within three seconds flat, you're back at it, capturing his lips with yours. Instantly, he responds by returning to his previous task. You can't help the moan that escapes you as his thumb grazes your erect nipple. His dick twitches in his pants at the sound, and all he wants is to hear you make that sound again and again. He suddenly lifts your hoodie all the way, his eyes widening at the sight of your bare chest which, until today, he'd never even considered. Your breath catches as you watch his expression switch between surprise, admiration, and then finally, insatiable hunger. He dips his head to attach to your nipple, his free hand no longer propping him up, but now playing with your other breast. His tongue swirls and laps at the delicate bud, making you writhe, "Seonghwa...fuck," You swear under your breath, your back arching slightly.

Your pelvis starts grinding upward involuntarily, making you so desperate for more. More friction, more pressure. He can sense your need, as it mirrors his own. Before he even really registers what he's doing, he's letting go of your breasts and shiting downward, kissing your stomach as he makes his way to your shorts. In on swift motion, he hooks his fingers onto the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down like a brute; not wasting time pussyfooting around-- he knows you want it just the same as he does. He looks down, admiring your puffy pussy lips already on display for him. Does she always go commando at home? He can't help but wonder, picturing you all those times he'd come over and you were in your pajamas. How much of a fool he was for never entertaining something like this with you before.

He presses his lips against your upper pelvic area, peppering it with kisses, your gasps egging him on further, until finally, his his tongue flitters in between your folds. It's quick; just a taste, more so for his own pleasure than yours. It's been four months since your last good fuck, and he can't help but feel a surge of excitement knowing he'll be your first encounter since then. His tongue darts once, twice, thrice more before he finally spreads your legs all the way open, preparing to sate his salivating mouth. "Ha...oh, fuck," You whine as he flattens his tongue against your heat, his head bobbing gently as he laps you up, the pressure instantly overwhelming. "Gentler, gentler," You coach him. He does as you say, all the while, exploring the flavor of you; sweeter than sin. He can genuinely picture doing this every fucking day, if you asked him...after all, what are friends for?

His fingers dig into your legs, and your hand comes down to rest on the back of his head. You've missed this so much; having someone between your legs, happily devouring you like dessert. He hums against you, slurping you up to his heart's content. You begin to grind yourself against him again, his nose hitting your clit in just the right spot. As much as he's always complained about his nose, Doja Cat was right; big noses are where it's at. You begin pulling gently at his hair, though you're really trying not to. "S-Seonghwa...I think I'm close." He keeps at it, motivated by how labored your breathe is becoming. Never would he have imagined that he might ever hear you unravel, much less that he'd be the reason for it. Your clit rubs up and down on his nose, and his tongue works at your hole, until finally, you're beginning to shake, your muscles coiling as your orgams builds in your lower abdomen. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming," You say, your voice strained. He presses just a bit harder into you, until finally, you're spasming uncontrollably. Your head slams backward onto the couch cushion, your eyes rolling back as you let it carry you away, "Ahhhh!"

He watches you, his chest swelling with pride, a big smile on his face as he watches in amazement. He looks down between your legs at your wet heat, and watches that white, hot click dribble out of you. Without hesitation, he licks it all up-- every last drop. Your pussy twitches at the overstimulation, but you don't stop him. In fact, you make sure to watch him, engraining it in your mind. "Shit, Seonghwa...that was amazing." He smiles slyly, "Duh."