Hiii I was wondering if you could do the you surprise them by speaking Korean during spice but with the Ateez boys?? Thank you! Xx
pairing: foreigner!reader x Ateez
warnings: NSFW / 18+ content, Language, Praise kink, Possessiveness, Wall sex, Breeding implication, Light choking / hair pulling, Size kink, Power imbalance
I did a night shift, I just inhaled 3 cans of Red Bull
The lights were dim, the rain tapping softly against the windows, the entire room wrapped in a golden hush. Hongjoong’s music equipment blinked quietly in the background, long forgotten — just like the half-written lyrics on the desk and the forgotten glass of whiskey at the nightstand.
Because you were in his lap, naked and warm, straddling him on the couch. His hands were gripping your hips as you rocked against him, your bare chest brushing his with every breath. The slow friction was almost cruel, almost teasing — but he let you take the lead, for now. Watching. Panting. Barely keeping it together.
“Fuck, baby…” he muttered, head falling back against the couch. “You feel so good. So fucking perfect.”
You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. He smelled like amber and sin, his voice deep and ragged in your ear.
And that’s when you said it. Soft. Breathless. Barely above a whisper.
"오빠… 너무 좋아…"
(Oppa… it feels so good…)
His entire body stiffened beneath you — like you’d yanked a string inside him and snapped it. Slowly, his head turned to face you, eyes wide and dark and blown-out. And for the first time that night, he looked completely wrecked.
“You just—” His voice cracked. “Did you just say that in Korean?”
You smiled, biting your lip shyly, and nodded.
“I’ve been practicing,” you whispered. “For you.”
Then he growled, deep and visceral, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you hard. His tongue was filthy, possessive — no space for softness now. Just need.
“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he whispered against your mouth. “Say it again.”
You blinked, flushed. “Now?”
One sharp movement and you were flat on the couch, wrists pinned above your head, Hongjoong towering over you, hair tousled, expression dark and reverent all at once. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock grinding into you, slow and thick and unforgiving.
“Now,” he said, kissing down your throat. “Say it again while I’m inside you.”
He snapped his hips forward.
You gasped — the stretch, the way he filled you, how his name sounded in your own voice in another language — it all collided into something overwhelming.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Keep talking. I want to hear you fall apart in Korean.”
He started to move — deep and slow, every thrust deliberate, his teeth grazing your neck between kisses. His hand slipped under your thigh, hiking it higher, angling you just right.
“말해. Come on, baby. Say it like you mean it.”
(Say it.)
“당신 거야… 오직 당신만…”
(I’m yours… only yours…)
His mouth dropped to your shoulder as he thrust harder, hips slamming into yours, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Every word from you made him rougher — not angry, just desperate. Like hearing you speak his language, in this way, in this moment, flipped a switch he didn’t even know he had.
“You have no idea what that does to me,” he groaned, grabbing your face. “You could ask me to do anything in Korean right now and I’d fucking do it.”
You whimpered beneath him, fingers clutching his back, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. He was getting close — you could tell by how his rhythm broke, how his breath stuttered.
Then you whispered, right in his ear:
“Please don’t stop… 더 원해…”
(I want more…)
Hongjoong cursed so loud you were sure someone would hear. He grabbed your hips with both hands and slammed into you, chasing your high with you, panting your name, sweat dripping from his forehead.
The orgasm hit you like a wave — your body arching, back bowing, the words slipping from your lips between gasps and moans. And he followed, groaning into your skin as he spilled inside you, pulsing with every thrust until he collapsed, forehead pressed against yours.
It started with fingers tangled in sheets and a kiss that didn’t want to end.
The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing and the soft rustle of skin on skin. Seonghwa was stretched out over you, shirtless, his toned body pressed flush to yours, every inch of him warm and strong. He kissed you slowly, tenderly — like you were the only thing he wanted to taste, like he had nowhere else to be.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against your lips, always gentle. Always careful with you.
But you didn’t want gentle.
You grabbed his face, pulling him into another kiss, this one deeper, needier — and rolled your hips up into his. He groaned, a soft broken sound, and rocked back down, finally giving you pressure where you needed it most.
His lips moved to your throat, then down your chest, his breath warm, his tongue trailing slow circles that left your skin burning. You were already panting, hands in his hair, nails dragging lightly across his shoulders.
And then — just as he was about to push into you — you whispered it.
“너만 원해… 하동화…”
(You’re the only one I want… Ha Donghwa…)
His gaze lifted to yours, wide and stunned, his lips parted in disbelief.
“What… what did you just say?”
You swallowed. Heart thudding. “Did I say it wrong?”
He sat up slightly, still inside you but not moving, his hand brushing your cheek so delicately it almost hurt.
“No,” he breathed. “You said it perfectly.”
He stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time — like you’d reached into the center of his chest and squeezed without warning.
“You learned that for me?” His voice was trembling now. “You’ve been learning Korean?”
You nodded, suddenly shy beneath his adoring stare.
His forehead dropped to yours.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Do you know what that does to me?”
You opened your mouth to answer — but then he started moving.
You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he rocked into you, each thrust purposeful and steady. He kept his face close to yours, watching every expression, drinking in every sound you made.
“Say it again,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “Please…”
You obeyed, your voice breathy and uneven.
He groaned — low and desperate — and kissed you like he was losing control.
He started moving faster, driving into you with more force, hands clutching at your hips like he couldn’t get enough. He whispered in Korean now too, messy and feverish, his voice broken:
“내 거야… 아무도 널 못 가져… 너는 내 거야…”
(You’re mine… no one else can have you… you’re mine…)
Hearing him — understanding even a little — made you melt. You could feel him getting closer, the pace becoming urgent, his hands everywhere.
You cupped his face and murmured, one last time:
He came with a strangled moan, burying his face in your neck as he held you so tightly it felt like he was scared you’d vanish. You followed right after, shaking beneath him, your nails leaving marks on his back.
It started with laughter.
You were straddling him on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, both of you half-naked and flushed from kissing. He’d said something stupid and sweet — something that made you throw your head back and giggle. And he just stared at you, eyes full of warmth and something darker.
“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured, voice low and genuine. “Like… painfully beautiful.”
You smiled, cheeks burning. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.”
Yunho grinned. “I’m already in your pants.”
You blinked, then looked down — and sure enough, you were grinding on his hard length through your panties, and neither of you had even noticed how fast things were heating up.
His hands found your hips, guiding you gently, encouraging the movement. You gasped softly, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to roll your hips in slow, steady circles.
“God,” he groaned, letting his head fall back. “I could come just like this.”
You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear.
And then — with a confidence you didn’t even know you had — you whispered:
“너 때문에 미쳐…”
(You’re driving me crazy…)
His hands stilled. His chest stopped rising. He slowly turned his head to look at you — wide-eyed and dazed.
“Wait… what? What did you just say?”
You smirked, heart pounding. “Did I get it right?”
His eyes darkened instantly. “You did,” he said, voice gravelly. “You fucking did.”
Before you could speak again, Yunho grabbed you by the waist, flipped you beneath him in one fluid motion, and settled between your legs. The look on his face had completely changed — still soft, still Yunho, but now with fire behind his eyes.
You blinked up at him, lips parted. “Wha—”
He kissed you hard, sliding your panties aside with one hand and guiding himself to your entrance with the other.
“Say it again, baby,” he murmured against your mouth. “And don’t stop saying it until I make you scream.”
You moaned, body arching beneath him.
“너 때문에… 미쳐…”
(You’re driving me… crazy…)
Your head fell back with a cry, and Yunho groaned low in your ear.
“God, your voice—your fucking voice saying that—” He thrust again, deep and hard. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”
You were gasping, clawing at his back as he picked up the pace. Every movement felt precise, relentless — like he wanted to bury himself so deep you’d never forget what he felt like.
“You’re amazing,” he panted. “So fucking smart. So sexy. And now you’re turning me on with my own language?”
You barely managed to whimper another breathless “너 때문에…” before his hand slid down to your thigh, pushing your legs wider, deeper, closer—
Your orgasm hit you like a wave — all-consuming and sudden, your body trembling under him. And he wasn’t far behind, the heat in his gaze turning molten as he buried himself in you with one final groan, spilling into you with his name on your lips.
Not awkward quiet — but peaceful. Intimate. The kind of quiet that existed only between two people who trusted each other with everything.
Yeosang had you beneath him on the bed, the silky sheets bunched around your bodies, his bare skin warm against yours. His hands were gentle, lips exploring you like you were something sacred. His touch wasn’t hurried. He never was. He liked to savor things — you especially.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, kissing down your collarbone. “So real.”
You tangled your fingers in his hair and held him closer, your thighs parting instinctively as he slid against your soaked heat. You were already trembling under him, his slow movements teasing and careful, like he was worshipping every inch of you.
And still — you wanted more.
Your breath hitched, lips brushing against his ear.
“상아… 제발 멈추지 마…”
(Sangie… please don’t stop…)
You felt it instantly — the way his muscles tensed, how his body went rigid above you. He pulled back, looking down at you with wide, stunned eyes.
“What… did you just say?”
You flushed, suddenly shy. “I-I just… I’ve been learning. For a while. I thought—”
“Say it again.”
His voice was low. Different. Almost… trembling.
You hesitated, but his hand slid to cup your cheek, eyes locked on yours.
“상아… 멈추지 마…”
(Sangie… don’t stop…)
Something snapped in him.
He groaned — loud and raw — and crashed his lips to yours, swallowing the last syllable as he thrust into you hard, all gentleness thrown to the wind. You gasped, digging your nails into his back, shocked at the sudden roughness, the fire in his eyes.
“You’ve been learning Korean this whole time?” he rasped between kisses. “And you never told me?”
His pace grew relentless, his grip tighter, hips slamming into you in perfect rhythm. The Yeosang you knew — quiet, composed — was completely gone. Replaced by someone hungry. Possessive. Unhinged.
“Say more,” he growled. “Say it again. Anything.”
Your voice was shaky, breathless, but you obeyed.
“당신 거야… 너만 원해…”
(I’m yours… I only want you…)
He cursed in Korean, forehead pressed to yours, his entire body trembling as he drove into you harder, deeper. You could barely think — his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your moans rising with every thrust.
“I can’t believe you did this,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
Your orgasm hit fast — white-hot and uncontrollable — and you screamed his name, your whole body clenching around him. He followed with a desperate groan, spilling into you as he held you tight, like he didn’t know how to let go.
It was chaotic from the start.
San had you pressed up against the wall in the hallway, both of you half-dressed from how urgently you’d torn at each other’s clothes. Your shirt hung open, your underwear already somewhere on the floor, and his sweatpants were barely hanging on.
“Couldn’t even wait to make it to the bedroom,” he panted against your mouth, grinning like a devil. “You’re really that desperate for me, huh?”
You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, cutting off the cocky remark. Your hips bucked against his, seeking more friction, and San groaned — low, from deep in his throat — as he slipped his hand between your legs.
His fingers teased you, slow at first, then faster. You gasped, squirming, clutching at his shoulders.
And then — in a moment of reckless courage — you moaned:
“산… 너무 깊어…”
(Sannie… it’s so deep…)
His hand froze, his lips hovering just above your neck.
“…What,” he said slowly, breath hot.
You blinked up at him, your cheeks flushed. “Was that okay?”
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes — and what you saw there wasn’t confusion. It was pure hunger.
“You’ve been learning Korean,” he whispered. “And you waited until now to use it?”
You didn’t have time to answer. In a flash, he lifted you up — effortlessly — and slammed you against the wall, hooking your legs around his waist. Before you could even catch your breath, he was inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust.
You cried out, nails digging into his back.
“Shit, baby,” he groaned. “You’re too good to me.”
He started moving — fast, deep, relentless. His hands gripped your thighs like he was afraid you’d slip away, his hips slamming into you with filthy precision.
“Say it again. Say that shit again in Korean.”
You moaned, head falling back against the wall.
“너무… 깊어…”
(It’s so… deep…)
One hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing — just holding you still — while his mouth kissed and bit down your jaw.
“God, I love hearing that from you,” he growled. “You saying my name like that — fuck — I’ll never be the same.”
He didn’t slow down. If anything, he got rougher, chasing both your highs like a man possessed. You were seeing stars, body writhing, the dirty words falling from your lips in broken syllables.
You whimpered again, voice shaking:
“산… 당신 거야…”
(San… I’m yours…)
His head dropped to your shoulder as he came hard, with a guttural moan that vibrated against your skin. You followed seconds later, your legs trembling, your whole body pulsing with heat.
Mingi had you laid out on his bed like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to devour you or worship you.
His lips were everywhere — your neck, your chest, the inside of your thighs — moving like he couldn’t stand to leave any part of you untouched. You were already trembling under him, wrists pinned above your head with one large hand, your legs open and shaking, your entire body burning for him.
“You’re killing me, baby,” he muttered, dragging his tongue slowly down your stomach. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
You moaned his name, arching up into him as his hips settled between your thighs. He was already hard and heavy, brushing against your slick entrance, teasing you, driving you mad.
He smirked, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “What, baby? You want it?”
You nodded desperately, whimpering.
“Say it again,” he growled. “Say you want me.”
But instead, you whispered:
He froze.
Then groaned so loud it echoed off the walls.
His grip tightened on your wrists. His body jerked like your words physically rocked through him. And when he looked down at you again, his eyes were dark — totally wrecked.
“You… learned that for me?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You nodded, breathless. “Just a little. For you.”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he slammed into you, hard and sudden, making you cry out and clutch at his shoulders.
“You’re mine?” he hissed. “You wanna say that shit in Korean and expect me to stay sane?”
You gasped, moaning as he began to move — fast and rough, fucking you into the mattress like he had something to prove. His hand slid under your thigh, hiking it higher, tilting your hips up so he could hit deeper, harder, every time.
“Say it again,” he growled. “Please, say it again. I need to hear it.”
You were nearly sobbing, the pleasure unbearable — but you obeyed.
“당신 거야… 민기야, 제발…”
(I’m yours… Mingi, please…)
He let out a long, broken moan, slamming into you so deep you saw stars.
“Fuck, you sound so hot saying that,” he gasped. “You’re gonna make me come just from that voice.”
The bed rocked under you, the room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your mingled moans. You were unraveling fast — every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, every word sending him deeper into obsession.
Then you whimpered one final time:
He cursed, loud and rough, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, his whole body shaking. You followed him seconds later, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, making your body arch and shudder beneath him.
You didn’t know how it got this far — one second, you were sitting on the couch in nothing but his oversized shirt, teasing him with your bare thighs as he played a game, and the next thing you knew, you were pinned to the wall, legs around his waist, Wooyoung’s mouth on your neck like he was starving.
“You think you’re cute, walking around like that?” he growled between kisses. “Acting all innocent?”
His hands were everywhere — squeezing your ass, tugging at the shirt like he wanted it off, grinding his hard cock right against your soaked center.
You moaned, tugging at his hair. “You were the one ignoring me!”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he smirked. “I was waiting to see how long you could keep pretending you weren’t begging for this.”
He carried you to the bedroom without ever letting you down — tossing you on the mattress and stripping you naked with practiced ease. In seconds, he was on top of you, hips rocking against yours, lips crashing into yours like a challenge.
“Say it,” he whispered against your lips. “Say how bad you want me.”
You locked eyes with him, heart racing, and whispered:
“오빠… 너무 좋아요…”
(Oppa… it feels so good…)
Wooyoung froze like he’d been electrocuted.
“…What the fuck?” His voice was raspy. “What. The actual. Fuck.”
He stared at you like you’d just unleashed something dangerous.
“Say that again,” he hissed.
You blinked, nervous. “I—”
“No. Say it again. Say it exactly like that.”
You swallowed — heat rushing to your face — and repeated:
He growled.
Actually growled.
“Oh, it’s fucking over for you.”
In a blink, he flipped you onto your stomach, yanked your hips up, and slammed into you from behind, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, gripping the sheets, your body jolting from the sudden intensity.
“You were keeping that from me?” he groaned. “You’ve been learning Korean and you used it like that?”
He was ruthless now, fucking you hard and deep, the slapping sounds echoing off the walls. One hand gripped your hip tight, the other slid into your hair, yanking it gently to make you arch.
“Say it again. Keep saying it. I wanna hear my name in your voice in my language.”
You moaned helplessly, tears threatening from how good it felt.
He pounded into you, merciless and panting, curses falling from his lips in Korean.
“내 여자야… 이건 다 내 거야… 누구 것도 아니야…”
(You’re my girl… all of this is mine… no one else’s…)
His pace got sloppy as he neared his peak, hips jerking as he reached down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. You were a mess beneath him, moaning in broken syllables, shaking and babbling.
“오직 너야… 우영아… 당신만…”
(Only you… Wooyoung… only you…)
You both came hard, your body convulsing as you screamed his name, while he groaned your praises against your back, still buried deep inside you.
It was one of those slow, late nights — the kind where everything felt softer, quieter, more vulnerable. Jongho had lit a single candle on the nightstand, and the rest of the room was cast in warm, flickering shadows.
He had you wrapped in his arms, bodies tangled under the sheets, your bare legs hooked over his hips. The intimacy was quiet but heavy — loaded. He moved with such steady control, every thrust deep and rhythmic, his mouth brushing over your skin as he held you close.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “Every time. Like you were made for me.”
You moaned, your fingers sliding into his hair, clinging to him as his hips rocked into yours, slow but deep enough to make your toes curl.
He kissed you again — gentle at first, then deeper. Hungrier.
Your whole body was burning with the need to tell him how much you loved this — how much you loved him. So you gathered every bit of courage and whispered it softly into his ear:
“정호야… 네 거야…”
(Jongho… I’m yours…)
His breath caught in his throat. He pulled back just far enough to look you in the eye, still inside you, his hand trembling slightly against your jaw.
Your voice was barely a whisper. “I… I’ve been learning. I just wanted to say it. For you.”
His face went blank for a second — like he short-circuited.
Then he exhaled slowly, his expression shifting into something you’d never seen before.
“Again,” he said, voice low. Stern. Commanding. “Say it again.”
Jongho’s hand slipped under your thigh and hitched your leg higher. His hips snapped forward — not fast, but hard. Deep. Possessive. Like he wanted to remind you exactly what “yours” meant.
“You can’t say that and expect me to stay calm,” he muttered. “Do you even understand what that does to me?”
You nodded shakily, your whole body alight with need.
“I wanted to surprise you…”
He thrust again — even deeper — dragging a long moan from your lips.
“You did,” he breathed. “You surprised me, baby. Now you’re gonna take everything I give you.”
He fucked you slowly but mercilessly, each stroke angled perfectly, his body flush against yours. The contrast of his usual gentle demeanor and this quiet, obsessed dominance was dizzying.
“Say it again,” he ordered. “Say it till you forget how to speak anything else.”
You whimpered, obeying between moans.
“정호야… 당신 거야… 네 거야…”
(Jongho… I’m yours… all yours…)
He groaned so deep it rumbled in his chest. His grip tightened. His pace stuttered, desperate now, as he chased his climax with trembling restraint.
“Mine,” he growled. “You’re mine.”
You both came hard — together — your name and his tangled in broken cries as your bodies shook from the intensity. He stayed inside you, breathing heavily, head resting on your shoulder like he didn’t want the moment to end.
