i’ve been thinking about this for a few days and i’ve decided to settle on a new url; loveatz.

i am welcoming my very first ateez blog url back into my arms and possibly staying as loveatz forever.

granted loveatz didn’t gain as much popularity compared to lustatz, i want to bring it back; and maybe bring lustatz back as well.

i’d love to bring lustatz.. i still remember starting a smut ateez blog despite not seeing any ateez scenarios posts up; i got asks thanking me for inspiring them to start their own blog. and the ateez writing community grew after that!

but yes, i will be in the process of fixing my links and everything. i’m so excited to do this and i hope it’s not an inconvenience to everyone.

thank you to those who have been with me since loveatz and lustatz era, it’s time to bring it back <3

“baby,” jongho called from your bed. you looked up from your phone and nodded your head towards him. “wanna smash?”

“you’re doing it wrong,” he mumbled behind you. whipping around, jongho stood closely behind you. it was defense against the dark arts, the only class you dreaded as jongho, the gryffindor you absolutely have a great, big crush on, would always point out the smallest of flaws you’d present. “you flick your wrist- snap it.”

“do you want me to break my wrist?” you asked, lowering your wand arm to face him. his lips pulled into a smile, and you took it as an offense. you scoffed. “leave me alone. i’m practicing.”

you raised your arm once more, repeating the spell in your head before opening your lips to fully say it. a hand snaked next to yours and it wrapped around your wrist. it was jongho, and he twisted your wrist just a tad bit. his action only made your cheeks heat up and your mind to forget the spell. “now say it.”

what was the spell again? “stupefy!”

the mannequin in front of you launched backwards, only this time much more impactful. everyone gasped and murmured all around you, and as soon as jongho detached his own limb from yours, you turned to him with your mouth open in shock. “t-thank you..”

after school came around and jongho headed up to the rooftop. the note in his locker said so. he was expecting another love confession, or a letter, as he had been receiving them from multiple people this week.

there you were, waiting for him to arrive as your hand clutched a letter that contained all of your feelings for him. jongho opened the door, his eyes immediately scanned the entire place before landing on you with your back turned to him. he gulped, “hey. were you the one who told me to come up here?”

he was prettier up close. your heart began pounding like mad that all you could do at that moment was shove the pink envelope to his chest and leave before he could say anything. jongho was confused, so he opened the letter, reading the one line you wrote:

i like you. please text me.

BIG DUMBASS is calling… [ ACCEPT ]

“hello? why are you still-”

“i’m so.. fucking in love with you, jongho. how are you so- ugh- blind?”

this took jongho by surprise. “you should go to sleep.”

“i’m in love with you,” you said it again, your voice waivered as it trailed off. jongho’s heart began to start beating incredibly fast, he wasn’t sure if you were drunk or you really meant to tell him. “i really am.”

you wanted to get up from bed, to start your day yet you were weighed down by your left hand. jongho pulled you back in bed, his face buried in your cheek as the trinkles and droplets of the rain outside your bedroom window became the only noise your ears focused on. the heat of jongho’s body became your source of warmth underneath the covers of your bed, his soft lips the source of comfort against your cheek.

TYPE: badboy!au, badboy!wooyoung, jung wooyoung

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SYNOPSIS: to what extent should you hate your own boyfriend for being the most obnoxious bad boy in school?

WARNING: attempt in smoking.

wooyoung has done nothing but be an absolute bad student in school and even you couldn’t do anything about it. he smokes, he drinks, he refuses to care about school and it frustrated you. of course, your parents don’t know - they don’t even know he existed.

it was cold at the rooftop, where wooyoung told you to go. he wasn’t there, though. maybe he was running a little late, as usual. you hugged your body for warmth, wrapped in wooyoung’s red vêtements hoodie that he loved on you more than he wears it. your eyes indulged in the city of seoul, a smile soon crept on your face.

a click rang behind your head and a press of something hard against your nape. your heart began to race, anxious and nervous and afraid. your eyes welled up in tears as you thought of the most unimaginable.

then you heard a voice.

“do you trust me?” wooyoung asked. he choked up on his words as his eyes trained itself on the back of your head with his gun pressed against it. he had been told to kill you, and as much as he didn’t want to, he had to carry the order. otherwise, this job would vanish in his hands.

“why are you doing this, wooyoung?” you asked in a hushed voice. your tone was a straight pang to wooyoung’s chest, and this made him crack and burst into tears. his hand began to shake behind your head as he imagined your pretty face crying for him, and wooyoung just couldn’t handle what he has to do to you.

“do you trust me, baby?” he repeated. he brought his left arm to wipe off the tears that had been flowing from his eyes like a neverending waterfall.

“i do.”

click. nothing.

every time you heard a click, you flinched. you waited for the bang you had been waiting to hear, but nothing. wooyoung came to the rooftop with an unarmed gun, or so you thought he did.

wooyoung dropped to his knees, crying his eyes out next to the love of his life’s lifeless body. he couldn’t bring himself to embrace the now drained body, picking himself up to start walking as his eyes gushed wetness.

“y/n, why do you have so many hickeys on your neck?”

your face flushed as your friend asked you about the hickeys littering your neck. you were out with your friends, and that included wooyoung, the boy who had given you those hickeys.

wooyoung smiled hearing this, as he had them all over his chest but you decided to be nice and left his neck alone. he watched you across the table, then to the friend who asked, and said, “take a wild guess, buddy.”

without any of your friends’ knowledge, you and wooyoung had been secretly dating for the past three months. wooyoung doesn’t like the secrecy, but he couldn’t help but boast about his recent masterpiece.

“yeah… just like that babygirl - that feels good.”

the nastiest choice of words left wooyoung’s lips as his hands burned and branded themselves on your ass. it made your ears heat up as you rolled your hips against him, lifting yourself up to bounce your tired body on him. wooyoung had been too tired to ram his hips into you for the night and ended up choosing another path of getting his pleasure - you ride him.

your fingers met the soft locks of wooyoung’s silver hair and your hips faltered a little, the pleasure so overpowering you couldn’t help but stop your movement to let it control your voice. “don’t stop. move.”

he looked up at you, fingers digging themselves on your ass and he began slamming you down on him. despite being on top of wooyoung, he still had control over you. he was still as dominant as he always is even when you ride him.

“w-wooyoung- i can’t-” you whispered, voice broken like dash marks as you felt your orgasm nearing. wooyoung leaned and bit your shoulder as his orgasm approached closer and closer. “wooyoung..!”

wooyoung didn’t have the strength to push you off of him and blew his load into the condom inside of you. your hips began to move itself away and above of him, but he pushed you back down as his arms snaked around your body to keep you close to him. you felt his hot breath meet your hot skin, breathing in sync after such an activity.

“here to attempt to kill me again?” wooyoung made sure he emphasized the word attempt. the sound of the gun cocking made you whip around, only to find wooyoung leaning against the dark desk which he called his. he wore a gray suit, white dress shirt unbuttoned low enough for his chest to be exposed and decorated by necklaces that only blinged excessively under the dim above his head. you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t hot. “tsk.. you’ve been trying to do that for five months now and here i am; still alive and still breathing. what a shame.. i taught you better than that, babygirl.”

your feet stomped towards him, irritated that he caught you for the nth time of attempting. he was too good, and either way, you couldn’t kill him. not when you love him just as much as he adored you. wooyoung laid his pistol next to him and extended his hands to be placed on your hips. he sat down on the chair to his right before proceeding to pat his right thigh. you sat down, accustomed to the consequences every time he caught you.

“i’m assuming..” wooyoung started as he leaned back against the expensive arm chair. his eyes trailed from your core stimulating itself against his thick and muscular thigh up to your face warping in intense pleasure. “..after this, you can assassinate me with ease. i’m starting to think you just come here to fuck.”

“i just-” you gasped when he tensed his thigh under your soaking core. “-can’t bring myself to- ah- kill you.”

wooyoung immediately sat up, face inches away from yours and his hot breath fanning against your cheek so hotly. “why not? you turned against me and joined another man’s team. why can’t you kill me if you can do that?”

“because-” you let out a soft moan, which became wooyoung’s favorite melody of the day. his strong hands gently placed themselves on your waist. “i love you.”

wooyoung’s phone kept buzzing on top of his glass desk. he couldn’t ignore it, especially if the messages he was receiving were all from you. he mentally cursed, thinking of the what urgency do you have at this hour to start blowing his phone up.

messages come after messages and it was insane, at least in wooyoung’s perspective. he opened them, and he prayed for the god to not send him to hell after his eyes read over the lewd messages and view the lewd images you’ve sent him.

MY LOVE: daddy, i miss you!

MY LOVE: [ attachment: 2 image ]

MY LOVE: do i look good~? should i wear this when you get home?

MY LOVE: daddy, i love you.

MY LOVE: wooyoung, i’m neeeeedy.

MY LOVE: woooyoung?

MY LOVE: •᷄⌓•᷅

showing wooyoung your lingerie after a long and hard day from work was… steamy. the way his hands roamed your clad body in search for pleasure was amusing enough for you to see how desperate he was for release. wooyoung licked his lips as his eyes fucked you so deliciously. “on the bed, baby.”

the lingerie was off in a second and wooyoung was grazing over your body like a temple. his hands wrapped your neck, restraining your breathing as gently as possible. he smirked, “you’re so pretty like this, princess.”

“is the museum open? finally.” mingi gathered your belongings and helped you stand up from the bench that you and your boyfriend decided to sit on after arriving thirty minutes early. he did the honor of buying food at the convenience store across the street as the two of you had rushed through the door of your humble abode, but you still didn’t know why he was rushing you. “come on, baby!”

“i’m coming!” you told him as you picked up your trash and tossed it in a nearby trashcan. mingi handed you your backpack and offered his hand for you, which you gladly took and slotted your fingers between his long and gigantic one. “it’s.. quiet.”

“serene, isn’t it?” he asked, his deep voice now quieted into a whisper. you smiled up to him. there was always a word that mingi says when you couldn’t describe something, and in response, you always smile up to him. this time, mingi let you drag him to places and gaze over beautiful paintings.

“john whetham of kirklington..” mingi said as he read the name of the painting. you snapped a photo of mingi leaning slightly over with squinted eyes to read the description about the painting. “homie’s got a dog.”

“did you just call him ‘homie’?” you asked, walking over to another painting after you’ve observed mr. john whetham of kirklington long enough. mingi followed behind you, eyes still not leaving the painting as he was quite fascinated by the dog rather than the piece itself.

“yeah, what about it?” he retorted back before flashing you a smile that would make his cute eyes vanish.

lunch came around and mingi decided to eat in the built in restaurant the museum had. having to visit los angeles for about three days now, mingi had grown accustomed to eating fast food lately. it was unhealthy, but mingi enjoyed eating and you found it quite adorable. you had more pictures of mingi and his food more than mingi and art pieces in the museum. you had to change that if you wanted a nice and presentable picture of your obviously silly boyfriend.

“the renaissance nude..” mingi muttered. “nudes.”

“mingi, that’s g-”

mingi dragged you up the stairs to find the nude exhibition of art in the earlier times. why was he so interested in looking at nude bodies from way back? you didn’t want to know, but you tagged along to see what the renaissance nude had in store for your eyes to indulge in.

“we should go to more museums,” mingi said, his left hand on the steering wheel and the other occupied by your hand. you never really expected mingi to agree on visiting museums, and you didn’t really expect that he’d enjoy it. but you were glad he did, and you had a ton of pictures to prove how much fun it was to go to a serene museum with your silly boyfriend and roam around the entire day. “i love you.”

“i love you, too. so.. can i post this picture of you stuffing fries in your mouth?”

FROM CARIZA: happy one year !! it’s late, but yeah. this will make up for it omg.

“if you don’t get up, i’m going to busan all by myself,” mingi nudges your arm to keep you awake. answering with a grumble, mingi leans down to give you a kiss on your head. “go get ready, i cooked eggs downstairs. hurry, i swear. we don’t have all day.”

“mingi!” you call after him before he leaves the room. he turns to you with his eyebrows raised, his cute eyes blinking at you as he waits for your response. “happy one year anniversary.”