#{seonghwa}

[guzhufuren]

[nefiriouschemes]

[260206] Fansign Yunho

A Hotteok gifted yunho a notebook “10 things i like about yunho”

[starcatching]

ATEEZ - IN YOUR FANTASY (2025)

[yeonlymine]

pocket pussy ᢉ𐭩 ateez ot8

a custom mold of your pussy,

here's what each of them did with it

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

☾ ateez (ot8) x reader

☾ warnings: nsfw, masturbation/toy use, filthy language, obsessive behavior, worship kink, degradation kink, voyeurism (recording/cam sex), exhibitionism, possessiveness, cocky/dom energy, sub vibes (only a few), accidental creampie, breeding kink, overstimulation, scent kink, crying, rough sex, (joong is my fav in this)

☾ hahaha...ha ha, so well, here we are. enjoy lmaoooo, one of these may honestly turn into a full fic 💀 who’s ur fav?

edit: there's now a full spin off fic, ft. yunho and mingi: pocket pussy incident

seonghwa – (kinda a softy but addicted)

He unwraps the gift like it's fragile. And in a way, it is. His hands are slow, reverent, and when he sees what's inside, his breath actually catches. No teasing. No wide-eyed shock. Just quiet awe.

"This is you," he murmurs. Thumb dragging slowly along the slit, memorizing the shape. "You let me have this?"

He doesn't use it right away. He showers first. Changes the sheets. Sprays your perfume on his pillow and dims the lights like he's setting up for a date. And when he finally presses into it, it's with a low groan, hips stuttering almost instantly.

"Fuck… you're so warm even in my head."

He whispers your name like a prayer. Thrusts deep, slow, and holds himself there like he doesn't want to finish too fast. Like cumming would ruin the moment. But when he does? It's with a shaky cry and your name on his lips.

He leans down between thrusts once, just to kiss the clit. Doesn’t matter that it’s silicone, in his head, it's you. He moans against it like it's holy.

He kisses it after. Cleans it gently. And tucks it away in silk like a secret.

—

hongjoong – (filthy, obsessive)

He asked for it. Of course he did. He researched molding kits, offered to help position you, took photos for "accuracy." He was fussy about the angle. "If I'm gonna fuck it," he said, "it's gotta be perfect."

When it arrives, he's hard before the box is even fully open. Uses your moan recordings and a video of your last orgasm as audio. Lube? Optional. He wants it raw.

"You're tighter than I remember, baby. Miss me that much already?"

He ruts into it at his desk, cock flushed and leaking, both hands wrapped around the toy like he wants to crush it. He props his phone up and hits record. "You wanted a video, right? Watch me ruin it. Watch me wreck your perfect little clone."

He moans your name, curses, even slaps it once just to see how it jiggles.

He leaves it out on the nightstand. Doesn't hide it. Wipes it down like a prized instrument and kisses it goodnight.

—

yunho - (gentle, addicted in secret)

He blushes so hard you think he might combust. Opens the box slowly, like he's afraid it's going to moan at him. When he realizes what it is, his ears turn red.

"You made this? For me? Like… molded?"

He acts like he'll save it for a lonely night. But that night? It's tonight. He's too curious. Too hard. He lies on his back, headphones in, listening to you breathe from a voice note. Lubes it carefully. Hesitates.

Then slides in and whimpers.

"Oh my god. Oh my god."

He's loud. Embarrassingly loud. Moaning into a pillow, hand gripping the toy like he's afraid it’ll disappear. When he cums, he gasps your name and makes a mess of his stomach.

He pulls out dazed, sees the mess leaking from the toy, and blushes all over again. “Shit… I—I came inside. I’m so sorry…”

He can’t look at you the next morning. But the toy stays in his drawer. Within reach.

—

yeosang – (worshipful, lowkey possessive?)

He unwraps the box slowly. Fingers lingering on the soft inner walls, eyes dark.

"You gave me this," he says, mostly to himself. "You really let me have this."

He doesn’t fuck it immediately. He sets it on a velvet towel. Stares at it like it’s a relic. He talks to it.

"Did you miss me today? You look so wet, baby. So ready."

When he finally uses it, it’s like worship. He presses in slowly, voice cracking. One hand stroking himself, the other caressing the outer folds like they’re real.

He cums with his forehead against the mattress and your name breaking off his lips in a whisper.

He never shares it. Never hides it either. 

He keeps a drop of your perfume sealed in the same drawer. Dabs it inside before use. Wants your scent to cling to him for days. If anyone even thinks about touching it, his voice goes ice cold:

"That doesn’t belong to you."

—

san – (desperate, loud, horny type)

You don’t even get to explain. He rips open the box and screams.

"NO FUCKING WAY. YOU DID NOT. YOU—" (he's already naked btw)

He fucks it on cam. With you watching. One hand on his chest, head thrown back.

"You molded your pussy for me, baby? You wanted me to fuck it while thinking about you? You wanted me to cry, didn’t you?"

He screams your name when he cums. Falls apart. Pulls out messy and still hard, gasping.

He strokes it after like a lover. “You’re her,” he murmurs. “My sweet girl.” You hear him coo to it like it can respond.

Uses it again before cleaning it. Leaves it next to his water bottle like it’s his gym towel.

Texts you: it twitched around me. swear to god. she misses me

—

mingi – (overwhelmed, ruined, a princess duh)

He tears up. Literally holds it like a newborn.

"You did this for me? You really let them mold… there?"

First use, he puts on one of your oversized shirts and your perfume. The video call is open, but all you see is his hand trembling.

"I missed you so much. I—I know it's not you, but I had to try."

He fucks it like he’s scared of hurting it. Whispers little apologies even as he cums inside.

"Sorry baby, I just… couldn’t hold it. You felt so good."

Afterwards, he wraps it in a towel and kisses the rim. Cries again.

He wears your shirt while he uses it again. Sobs into the fabric when he cums too fast the second time. 

“You smell like home. I need you again, I—please.”

He talks to it when he’s lonely. You catch him once. He doesn’t stop.

—

wooyoung – (cocky, deranged!!, too proud)

He sees the box and grins like you handed him a Nobel prize.

"Oh, you shouldn’t have. No, really. I might propose."

Fucks it with the lights on, music blasting, sunglasses on. Makes you watch.

"She’s sucking me in, babe. I think she loves me."

He spits on it. Spreads the lips open for the camera.

He licks it once. Grins. “Taste test approved.” Later, he sucks his fingers clean and moans like he’s at a wine tasting.

"Tell the real thing to be jealous. Her twin’s working overtime."

You hear him moan your name and his own.

Texts you at 3am: ur pussy has a clone. i’m in a throuple now.

Also buys a backup. Just in case.

—

jongho – (controlled, brutal, undercover addict)

He doesn’t react. Not at first. Just raises a brow, thanks you, and disappears into his room.

But behind closed doors? It’s carnage.

He fists the toy with both hands. No build-up. No lube the second time.

"Tight little thing. Can’t even take me."

He doesn’t moan. He grunts. Breathes harsh through his nose.

Finishes fast the first time. Slow the second. By the third, he’s groaning your name like a curse.

He wipes it clean. Places it in a drawer. Comes back 20 minutes later. Uses it again.

“Take it,” he growls under his breath. “Take my cum like a good girl.” Your moan plays through his earbuds. He fucks harder.

He never brings it up. Never admits it. But the sheets are always damp, and his jaw’s always clenched.

[stxrrywoo]

thinking about seonghwa with his pillow princess

tears spilled down your flushed cheeks, soft sobs falling from your lips as you clutched your stuffed rabbit to your chest. seonghwa's hands were planted on your plush hips, using them as leverage to fuck into your sweet cunt. he had already pulled three orgasms from your shaking body, but he wanted—needed—more.

"such a sweet cunt bunny, listen to how wet she is," seonghwa cooed, straightening his upper body as your pretty eyes fluttered open, tears sticking to your lashes. a deep chuckle reverberated through his chest when your grip on the little white rabbit tightened.

"h-hwa, please…" you breathed out, head falling back when he brushed over your sweet spot, and now you weren't even sure what you were begging for anymore, brain fuzzing over. that fog only intensified when he slowed his hips until his tip was pressing against that spot deep in your walls.

"right here, pretty girl?" the pink-haired male smirked, grinding his tip against your sweet spot. the motion pulled a series of broken cries and moans of seonghwa's name from your kiss-swollen lips. you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip was too strong—it was always too strong, and he kept you locked in place.

"fuc— nghhh! seonghwa!" Your screams echoed in the dimly lit room when your body locked up, your high crashing into you like a freight train. seonghwa moved his hand to your twitching clit, tweaking with the small button and pulling more of your sweet release out of your abused cunt.

"there ya go, bunny, I knew you could do it." seonghwa's lip twitched into a sickeningly sweet smile, and you could only whine, incoherent babbles falling from your lips. the rabbit that you had been clutching to your chest was now pulled up to your face, hoping to muffle your pathetic warbles.

with a click of his tongue seonghwa pulled his hand away from your slippery pussy, grabbing the stuffed animal and tugging it out of your hands. the gasp that you tried to let out was cut off by a moan when he delivered a particularly sharp thrust to your cunt. oversensitivity coursed through your body and threatened to overtake your body and soul entirely. however, seonghwa wasn't ready to let you slip away yet, so he leaned over your body until his lips were ghosting over yours

"don't hide your pretty face from me, baby." there was a slight whine in seonghwa's tone that had you clenching around him, and your hands flew to his forearm when he all but shoved his middle and ring fingers into your drooling mouth. "since you're so worried about them hearing, suck on my fingers, babygirl."

and you did just that, fingers wrapping around his wrist as he pressed against your tongue, his hips still pistoning into yours with brutal force. your sweet sounds were now muffled by seonghwa's ring-clad fingers as you came once more, but he didn't stop. no he wasn't stopping until he was sure you were thoroughly ruined.

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮.

[pineapple-burgah]

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʏ

bf!ateez x reader

summary: you fall asleep on your boyfriends arm. how does he react?

wc: 576 cw: fluff, cuteness, sleepy a/n: hey so this is my first ateez thing i'm doing so if this is wrong then like don't say anything. positive vibes only i'm sensitive

ateez masterlist

hongjoong:

- fully determined not to wake you up

- he really wants his arm back

- but once he hears your little sigh of content he's done for

- he's so locked in, trying not to giggle at the sounds you make when you're sleeping

you eventually turn in his arms, head dropping down into his chest and he's able to pull you closer.  "it's okay baby," he presses a kiss to the top of your head, "i'm here." you hum as he holds you tight. "that's it babygirl," as he soothes a hand over your hair.

seonghwa:

- barely notices it

- probably daydreaming about something

- but when he notices there's no feeling in his hand he panics

- softly lifts your head to retrieve his arm

you stir, feeling the weight of your head being lifted. you blink your eyes open and turn to find him looking guilty. "i'm sorry honey, rest up," he lays back down and pulls you close, "go back to sleep."

yunho:

- bro is immediately panicking

- do i wake them? do i suffer?

- he chooses that he'd rather suffer than wake you up.

- constantly flexing his fingers to make sure his arm doesn't go too numb

you stretch out your limbs and flip over, eyes landing on a very awake boy. he shoots up immediately and grabs his arm, flexing it to wake it up. "i'm sorry baby, go back to sleep," he breathes quick, "i didn't want to wake you but i might need to go to the ER." you giggle and force him to lie back down, this time making sure he's comfortable before drifting back off to sleep.

yeosang:

- he's fast asleep

- he doesn't even notice it

- bro is so chill

you adjust your position and wake up to the feeling of muscle beneath your head. you look, panic and turn over. "baby, i'm so sorry!" he's blinking his eyes at you, confused why you woke him up. in his dreamy state he flips on his back and draws you into his chest, and mumbles, "5 more minutes."

san:

- he's so happy

- not even a crane could tear that boy away from you

- omg they chose ME? hell yeah

- kinda creepy cause he's just watching you

hongjoong is the one to find you both on the couch, whispering to san, "you want some help?" he moves towards you both. "don't you dare," he whispers with a growl, using his free hand to pull you closer to him. hongjoong backs up.

mingi:

- panicking

- bro is so stressed he's going to wake you

- barely breathing

- barely alive

"baby?" he whispers so low he can barely hear himself. "ok princess, sleep well." he tries to fall asleep after but can't due to his arm. but eventually you turn, still asleep and cuddle into him. he finally breathes and hugs you tight.

wooyoung:

- oh he's so smug

- thought about waking you up to tease you about it

- but saw how content and sleepy you were and held back

- watching you like the yearner he is

"youngie?" you croak, stirring from sleep and feeling his burning stare. "yes darling?" he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "stop staring." "never."

jongho:

- tries to act nonchalant

- you're probably around the other members too

- they're teasing him about it

- but heaven forbid you try and move

you stir after hearing another round of giggles pass by the couch. when you catch on to what they're laughing about, he stops you. he uses his free arm to hold you down. "baby-" "no," he sterns, "you're right where you belong." and although his eyebrows are furrowed together, the kiss to your forehead is soft.

taglist:

@red40sperson @cherrybliss @kathaelipwse @iconicallyher @toesy3 @xallyouneedislovexx @sleepykittycx @tiapatito202278ok @putlonghatdog @theauthorofsmut @kimjikm @luvvvivi @felixglow @bee-gremlin @geni-627 @bahngarang @s1mpf0rda1k1 @savvystay @tsumiyaa @crypticcompassion @inishij @max-1404 @chansfilmms @brookesmultifandomhell @leeknowz-pudding @bekindtourself @cb97nini9694 @loveconsumingmedia @casazrhys @meo-neo @straykidzsimp @grace-928 @hyunjinniemylove @nojerama-writes @hrtsfra @wolflc @ela-31 @jaidawouldneva @ebnabi @yxna-bliss @hyunniesprincess @puckmaidens @myrkhive @stayyverse @inmyfelixera @bbylex00 @purplesuitcasedonutlawyer-blog @madelineblackwell @y2kur0mi @wandrluvst

[mingi-buffering-24-7]

when they make you repeat yourself mid-sex [ateez x fem!reader]

“What was that?” They heard you. They just want it again.

ateez (separated) x fem!reader | various settings | power play Genre: smut Warnings: explicit sexual themes, pwp, dominant/submissive dynamics, choking, bondage (improvised restraint), oral (male & female receiving), fingering, p in v, , hair pulling, breath play, semi-public sex, wall pinning, manhandling, dirty talk, teasing, praise kink, possessive behavior, overstimulation, switch dynamics, creampie, unprotected sex (nooohhh) wc: ~550 words each a/n: it’s been a while since i’ve written smut… i’m a little rusty, so please go easy on me :(

masterlist

✧ seonghwa

You’re already trembling when he lowers himself between your thighs again.

The room is warm. Dim. Sheets tangled around your legs. There’s still a thin sheen of sweat across your skin from the last time he made you come, your chest rising unevenly, body hypersensitive.

Seonghwa notices everything. He always does.

He presses a slow kiss to your inner thigh first. Then another. Unhurried. Patient. Like he has nowhere else to be.

“Hwa…” you breathe, half-warning, half-plea.

He hums softly against your skin and continues, deliberate and maddening. Every touch measured. Every movement precise. He isn’t rushing. He isn’t chasing. He’s savoring.

Your hips tilt instinctively, the friction against his mouth making your stomach twist.

His tongue darts out, tracing every fold, circling your wetness, lapping, flicking, teasing. When he finds your clit, he sucks it in, slow and wet, warm, until you whimper. You squirm, fingers twisting into the sheets.

“Seonghwa, too much, stop!” you whisper faintly, trying to push his head away, though your hips betray you, lifting instead of pulling back.

He pauses. Slowly, he lifts his head. His hair falls slightly into his eyes, gaze calm. Composed.

“Say it properly,” he murmurs.

The words are soft. Devastating.

You swallow. Your body is still pulsing from where he left you moments ago.

“Do you really want that?” he asks quietly. Not mocking. Just steady. “If you want that, say it again.”

Your head shakes before you can stop it. He watches you closely.

“Words,” he says.

When you hesitate, the absence of his touch is immediate. Noticeable. His hand leaves your thigh entirely. The loss makes your breath hitch.

You try to push him again. Frustrated. Desperate. He doesn’t give in. Instead, his thumb lazily traces your clit up and down, slow, coaxing an answer through pleasure. 

Your body spasms at the touch, hips jerking instinctively.

“Tell me,” he repeats.

You squeeze your eyes shut, flushed, overwhelmed by the need twisting low in your stomach.

“Keep going,” you whisper.

He doesn’t move, thumb still teasing.

“Properly,” he insists, his grin audible in the vibration of his voice.

Your voice breaks a little this time. “Keep going, please.”

The faintest chuckle escapes him, warm and satisfied. Not cruel. Just pleased that you said it. That you chose it.

He lowers himself again without another word. This time he doesn’t drag it out. His patience dissolves into something hungrier, movements faster, less restrained. One hand pins your thigh open as he focuses, relentless now, messy in the way he rarely allows himself to be.

His tongue dives back in, sucking, swirling, teasing every sensitive nerve. Your hips grind down, desperate for friction, and he parts just long enough to look up at you, smiling.

Then he’s back, tongue plunging deep again, and with one hand, he slides two fingers inside you. In and out quickly, curling, hitting every spot that makes you cry out.

Your back arches off the mattress, a sharp cry leaving you before you can swallow it.

And above the sound of your breathing, you hear him murmur softly, almost to himself,

“That’s what I thought.”

✧ hongjoong

The studio smells like warm wires and something faintly metallic. It’s past midnight. The hallway lights are off. Only the soft glow from his monitor spills across the room.

You’re sitting on his lap. Straddling him in his chair, one of his hands still resting lazily on the armrest like he hasn’t fully decided this is happening. 

His dick presses into you through his jeans, hard and impatient, and your hips shift instinctively, rolling against him. Your hoodie is half off your shoulders. Your fingers curl into his shirt, wrinkling it.

“Joong,” you murmur, breath warm against his ear.

He hums, distracted. Or pretending to be.

Your hips move again, slow, testing. Sliding down, pressing fully, grinding. His jaw tightens just slightly.

You lean closer. “Touch me.”

He tilts his head. A slow grin on his lips.

“What was that?”

You know he heard you. His eyes are sharp now, completely focused. The cursor on his screen blinks unattended.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Touch me,” you repeat, softer this time. Almost shy.

He studies you like you’re a track he hasn’t decided how to mix yet. One hand slides from the armrest to your waist, thumb brushing just beneath the hem of your hoodie.

“Clearer,” he says gently.

You swallow. “I want you to touch me.”

His smile deepens, not mocking. Just pleased.

“Good,” he murmurs.

He doesn’t rush. Like you didn’t just climb into his lap because you couldn’t wait any longer.

One hand slides down to your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you shiver, guiding your hips against him. His other hand slips under your hoodie, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over the peak. 

Your movements stutter for a second.

“You get impatient,” he says quietly. “And then you forget how pretty you sound when you ask.”

You roll your hips again, frustrated at the way he’s dragging this out.

He exhales, finally letting his forehead rest briefly against yours. The patience cracks just a little.

“Say it one more time,” he whispers. Not teasing now.

You don’t hesitate this time.

“Please.”

That does it. His hands tighten. He finally gives in the way he wants to, not rushed, not reactive. Controlled. Decided. The chair shifts slightly under your movement as you grind against him harder. 

Outside the studio, the building is silent. Inside, he kisses you like he’s signing his name on something he owns.

✧ yunho

You shouldn’t be doing this on the couch. That’s what makes it worse.

You’re sitting on his lap, back pressed to his chest, legs parted just enough for him to fit between them comfortably. 

You’re soaked, already slick from the heat building between you. His middle and ring fingers slide in and out of you in a steady rhythm that makes your breath catch every few seconds.

The slick sounds between your legs are obscene, and Yunho grins, eyes dark, clearly loving every one.

He tips his head over your shoulder, watching as his fingers pull out, spread you open, then sink back in, filling you perfectly again. His other hand slides higher, big palm warm and possessive on your chest, kneading the warm skin there. 

His middle finger teases your nipple over your thin tank top, one strap threatening to slip from your shoulder with his eager movements. 

He’s holding you like he likes to. Like you belong exactly where you are. His bulge presses hard against your lower back, reminding you of how much he’s craving you.

“Yunho…” you murmur, head tipping back until it rests on his shoulder.

He laughs softly against your ear. Teasing. Unbothered. Like you’re not seconds from falling apart. You press a kiss to his neck, just under his jaw. He hums at that, rhythm never faltering.

“We don’t have long,” you whisper. 

Yeosang said he’d be back soon. Any minute. The front door could unlock at any second.

“Relax,” Yunho says easily. “I’ve got you.”

You roll your hips, impatient, trying to get him to move faster. He doesn’t. Instead, he grins, watching the way your breathing stutters.

“What was that?”

You huff softly. “Go faster.”

He tilts his head. “Hm? I didn’t catch that.”

You know he did. The smug curve of his mouth gives him away.

You shift again, desperate now, trying to guide his hand with your movement. His fingers press deeper for a second and you gasp. You clench around him reflexively.

That makes him laugh properly.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Easy.”

“Yunho,” you whine, more urgent this time. “Fuck. Faster!”

He pauses just long enough to make you regret snapping at him.

“You’re bossy today,” he says lightly.

You buck your hips again, not even pretending to be subtle anymore. That’s what does it. His teasing expression softens instantly. Gone. Replaced with something warmer. Hungrier.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

His rhythm changes. Quicker now. Less playful. More focused. His fingers work you expertly, curling and pressing, coaxing every shudder, every gasp from your lips. 

You feel him through your clothes, his cock straining against your back, moving with you, desperate to feel release.

You cling to his forearm as the couch shifts under you. He leans forward, teeth grazing your neck before he bites down gently, right where he knows you love it. Saliva damp against your skin. Your body reacts immediately.

“Yunho, I’m—”

“I know,” he whispers against your skin.

It builds fast after that. Too fast. Your thighs tense, breath breaking apart in sharp little sounds you’re trying desperately to keep quiet.

The release hits hard and sudden. You gush around his fingers, coating them as you clamp down. A shudder runs through you as you press back into him. biting your lip to muffle the noise.

Then, the front door unlocks. Both of you freeze.

Yunho bursts into quiet laughter, breathless and disbelieving. “Perfect timing.”

You scramble off his lap, trying to fix your clothes while he grabs your wrist, dragging you down the hallway toward his room.

“Move, move, move!” he whispers, still grinning.

The bedroom door clicks shut just as footsteps echo from the entryway. You collapse against his chest, trying not to laugh. Yunho presses a quick kiss to your temple.

“See?” he murmurs. “Told you I’ve got you.”

✧ yeosang

The bathroom is thick with steam. Water slides down tiles, down skin, down the sharp line of Yeosang’s shoulders. His hair is darker like this, slicked back, droplets clinging to his lashes.

You press into him first. Your mouth finds his collarbone, then the curve of his neck. You kiss him there. Slow. Open. Your hands drag down his chest like you’re mapping him.

He inhales softly. His fingers hook into your waist, pulling you flush against him. Water rushes between your bodies, heat building despite it.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmur against his throat.

“What?” he asks, not moving his gaze from you.

You kiss the corner of his lips. Then his jaw. Then back to his mouth, slower this time.

“I said,” you whisper, breath warm against his skin, “let me take care of you.”

He hums faintly, like he’s distracted. Like the water is too loud. Like your voice can’t possibly carry through all this steam.

His eyes never leave your lips. His hands slide down your back, squeezing your ass gently, possessively. The other traces up your spine, nails grazing lightly. You shiver.

“Did you say something?” he asks, tone innocent.

You glare at him. He raises one eyebrow. You lean in closer, almost on your toes, water cascading between you.

“Yeosang,” you whisper directly against his ear. “I want to take care of you.”

Silence.

He studies your face carefully. Not teasing now. Just watching the way your confidence flickers under his gaze.

“Say it clearly,” he says softly. “So I don’t misunderstand.”

Heat climbs your neck despite the water. You inhale.

“I want you to let me suck you off.”

There’s no hesitation in you now. Only hunger.

His jaw tightens. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip. He leans down and bites your lip gently before releasing it, just enough to make you gasp.

“You should’ve said so,” he murmurs. “But you don’t have to ask like you’re unsure,” he adds quietly against your skin. “If you want something, you tell me. And I’ll decide,” he finishes softly.

You hold his gaze. Something shifts in his expression.

His hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into damp hair. He pulls you into a deep kiss, sudden and consuming. It’s not slow this time. It’s hungry. Teeth brushing. Breath stealing.

You melt into it.

He breaks it just as quickly. No warning. His hand leaves your neck and moves to your shoulder instead, firm now. Then he presses, gentle, guiding you down.

Your knees bend under the water. Tiles cool beneath your skin as you sink down in front of him. Water runs down his chest, over his stomach, dripping from his fingertips.

He stands tall, chest rising and falling heavier than before. He doesn’t look away. Not once.

His hand slips into your hair, loose but possessive. Not forcing. Just anchoring you there.

“You wanted to take care of me,” he says quietly.

You glance up through wet lashes, and this time, you lick your lips on purpose. His grip tightens just slightly.

“Go on.”

Your hand wraps around him, stroking once from base to tip. Heat slicks your fingers as you trace him slowly, deliberately. Then your tongue follows, licking along the length, tasting him.

He lets out a low sigh, muffled against the water. 

When you finally take his tip between your lips, his hand on your hair presses lightly, urging you deeper, guiding every movement.

A groan slips past him. He leans forward, forehead resting against the cold tile behind you, caging you in. Your head tilts with the push, a small gag leaving you as he hits deeper. Your hands clutch at his thighs.

And Yeosang? He doesn’t rush. Just watches you. He loves when you take care of him. He just likes to make sure you really mean it.

✧ san

San kisses you like he’s memorizing you. Slow. Intentional. Like this is sacred.

It’s only the third time sleeping together since you started dating, and everything still feels new. His hands explore carefully, reverently. He praises you between breaths.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs against your mouth.

His lips trail down your jaw. Lower. “You’re perfect.”

He says it like he means every word. And you love it. But tonight the sweetness makes something restless coil inside your stomach.

He’s inside you, slow and steady, every thrust gentle. You push against his lower back, urging him to go faster, but he hums against your neck and keeps his pace. Making you feel good without scaring you off.

Buy you want more.

You don’t think. You just speak.

“Can you… San, I—I want you… Can you tie me up?.”

He stops. Completely. The rhythm vanishes. The warmth leaves you when he pulls out slowly, withdrawing with a softness that feels like distance.

Panic flares instantly. You messed up. You try to close your legs, instinctively retreating, but his hands snap to your knees before you can, holding you open.

His breathing changes.

When you look at him again, he looks different. Still San. But darker, hungrier. His eyes search your face carefully. Not angry. Not confused. Assessing.

He shifts closer, one hand leaving your knee to cup your cheek gently. His thumb brushes under your eye like he’s grounding you.

“Baby,” he says softly. “Look at me.”

You do.

“Did you mean that?” His voice is low, steady. “Or did it just slip out?”

There’s no mockery. No edge, just patience, waiting for you to answer.

You swallow. “I meant it.”

He studies you a second longer.

“You’re not saying it because you think I want to hear it?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.”

His thumb strokes your cheek once more.

“Then tell me,” he murmurs, almost tender. “Tell me what you want. Clearly. So I know you mean it.”

Your heart pounds, but you don’t feel scared. You feel safe.

“I want you to tie me up,” you say, stronger now. “Please. I need you to use me.”

His pupils blow wide. A slow, dangerous smile curves his mouth.

“There you are,” he whispers.

Something in him ignites. He exhales sharply and scrambles off the bed, dropping to his knees to search the floor. His slacks are half-tangled near the nightstand. He grabs them and pulls the belt free in one smooth motion.

When he climbs back onto the mattress, there’s no hesitation. He guides your wrists above your head carefully, checking your expression before looping the belt around them and securing it to the bedframe. Not too tight. Just enough.

When he’s done, he sits back on his heels and looks at you. And you feel exposed in a way that makes your pulse skip.

His hands travel slowly from the belt at your wrists down your arms. Over your shoulders. His knuckles brush your cheek softly. Down your throat. Across your chest. Lower.

Until his palms settle on your thighs, spreading them gently.

“So pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice low. Dangerous and adoring at the same time.

His thumb traces your jaw.

“You tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

You nod.

His expression softens just a fraction. The sweet San still there beneath the heat. But when he leans down again, pressing his body over yours, there’s nothing hesitant about him anymore.

“You should’ve told me sooner,” he whispers against your lips.

And then he thrusts back in, harsh and fast. Your back arches instinctively, a loud gasp tearing past your lips as you tug at your restraints above your head. San chuckles teasingly, watching the way your body responds to him.

And the way he smiles after that? You know you’ve just unlocked something you’re never going to stop craving.

✧ mingi

The headboard knocks softly against the wall with every snap of his hips. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor, towering over you. You’re on your hands and knees, sheets tangled beneath you.

Mingi’s hands are firm on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave warmth behind, his rings cool when they first touch your skin and then warm almost instantly.

He’s holding you against him so firmly you feel like you could melt and he wouldn’t let you fall. He pulls you back every time you try to crawl forward, grip firm enough that you feel it in your bones.

“Stay,” he pants. "Don't run away from me."

The sounds he makes are low and wrecked. Like he’s already halfway gone. You love it.

You turn your head slightly, hair falling over your cheek. “Harder.”

He laughs breathlessly. “You’re insatiable.”

He gives you exactly what you asked for. Harder. Rougher. His grip tightens, dragging you back with each thrust so your body jolts forward and back in his control.

His cock drives deep, filling you completely. He angles his hips just right, each hit brushing against your cervix, making your back arch deeper, tilting yourself into him with every thrust.

The room fills with skin smacking, broken breaths and the bedframe shifting beneath you.

He’s close. You can feel it. His rhythm grows heavier. Less teasing. More desperate. Then you whisper it.

“Choke me.”

He falters. Not fully stopping, but enough that the pace stutters.

“What?”

He stops inside you. He needs to steady himself. Mingi's chest brushes your back as he leans down, broad frame engulfing you completely.

His hands leave your hips. One braces beside your head. The other combs your hair away from your face. Gentle. Careful. He needs to see you. Needs to make sure he heard right.

You feel him pressing even deeper, and a whine escapes you, eyes closing, eyebrows furrowing as the sharp ache mixes with pleasure.

Mingi presses a kiss to your temple, soft, almost an apology. His fingers hook under your chin, lifting your face slightly so he can catch your eyes.

“Say that again,” he murmurs, not teasing now. Just caught off guard.

“Choke me.”

That’s all he needs. His expression shifts instantly. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat without hesitation this time. Big palm wrapping around your neck.

“You trust me?” he asks roughly into your ear.

You nod. Mingi gifts you a slight squeeze that makes your breath hitch and your hips press back instinctively, clenching around him.

He pulls you up against him in one smooth motion, your back flush to his chest, both of you upright now. One arm braced around your middle to keep you steady, the other still holding your throat.

The new angle makes you gasp. His grip tightens just a little as he resumes his pace, deeper now, faster. His mouth drops to your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin as a low groan spills out of him.

He likes this. The way you asked. The way you demanded.

Your hand clutch at his forearm, feeling the flex of muscle under your fingers. The other slides to his nape, twisting through the long hair there, keeping yourself steady.

Your breathing turns shallow. Not panic. Not fear. Just that dizzy edge of surrender that makes your head spin.

He squeezes again. Just enough to make your pulse flutter beneath his palm. And he smiles against your shoulder when he feels it.

Mingi loves when you take control. Even when he’s the one holding you up. Especially then.

✧ wooyoung

The party noise outside the bathroom door is loud. Laughter. Music. Someone shouting for another round. None of it matters.

You’re sitting on the countertop, the faucet pressing into your side, cold and inconvenient. You barely register it. Not when Wooyoung is standing between your knees, your underwear on his pocket, eyes lit up like he’s about to commit a crime and enjoy every second of it.

He unbuckles his belt slowly.

You roll your eyes. “Hurry up, Woo.”

He laughs under his breath. “Bossy.”

But he does hurry. The metallic sound of his belt slipping free feels indecently loud in the small space. Your pulse kicks up. You lean forward slightly, impatient.

“Seriously,” you whisper. “Hurry.”

He steps closer, crowding you. His hands slide to your thighs, squeezing once before pushing them wider.

“You’re the one who dragged me in here,” he murmurs.

“Don’t make me regret it, just fuck me already.”

The words barely leave your lips before he moves. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t tease the way he usually would. One hand tugs his zipper down. The other wraps around himself, stroking once, fast, slick.

Then he presses in. Hard. No prep. Just him, filling you in one sudden, decisive thrust. The sting makes you whine sharply, a sound louder than you meant it to be.

His hand flies to your mouth instantly.

“Shh,” he breathes, eyes wide for half a second.

You both freeze.

Outside, someone knocks against the wall, laughing. Wooyoung’s gaze flicks back to you. The smirk returns. He stays still for one long beat, his palm warm over your lips, his forehead almost touching yours.

“What were you saying?” he asks softly.

He starts to move again. Slow at first. You try to answer, but your words melt into his hand, muffled and useless.

His grin widens. “Oh, I can’t hear you.”

The pace picks up. Not frantic. Controlled. The kind that makes your thoughts scatter. Your head tips back, and it knocks lightly against the mirror.

The sound is small, but in this room, it feels explosive.

Wooyoung’s smirk disappears instantly. His hand drops from your mouth and slides behind your head, palm cushioning between your skull and the glass. Protective without breaking rhythm.

The teasing melts into something darker. More focused. He leans in closer, lips brushing your ear.

“No, really,” he says, voice low now. “Say it.”

Not mocking anymore, commanding.

“Fuck me, Woo!” you gasp, repeating yourself as you cling to him.

His eyes flash at the sound of it.

“Finally got it out, huh?” he murmurs, smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s my girl… exactly what I wanted to hear.”

His mouth drops to your collarbone, teeth grazing, tongue soothing after. His free hand slides lower, palm pressing over your lower stomach, thumb drawing circles on your clit.

The bathroom fills with the sound of your breathing and the quiet, relentless rhythm he’s set.

Outside, the party keeps going. Inside, Wooyoung holds your head steady like he’s the only thing keeping you from shattering against the glass. Bratty. Reckless. But the second it matters, he loves taking care of you.

✧ jongho

The city hums below you. Lights blink in the distance, cars sliding through the dark like quiet comets. The balcony is high enough that no one can see up, but the open air makes everything feel exposed anyway.

Your palms grip the cold railing.

Jongho stands behind you, solid and unshakable, chest pressed to your back. His mouth is against your spine, breath hot where the night is cool, his dick filling you perfectly.

He hasn’t looked at the skyline once.

One arm stays firm around your middle. The other slides lower. His fingers find your clit, making your knees tremble. But he keeps you upright easily, like you weigh nothing.

Your body responds instantly, hips rolling back against him without thinking, pressing him in deeper.

Slowly, the arm that’s around your middle slides upward, hand tangling in your hair, not yanking, just keeping you exactly where he wants you. Bent slightly forward over the railing, heart racing at the height, the adrenaline of being watched.

His rhythm turns heavier. Less measured. Every thrust hits deeper. He’s close. You can feel it in the way his breathing roughens against your skin. In the way his grip tightens just a little.

“Come inside me,” you breathe into the night.

The words float into the dark. He doesn’t react at first. Just keeps moving. Steady. Deep. Focused.

“Again,” he grunts against your shoulderblade.

No smile. No teasing. Just the command.

You arch back into him, voice cracking with need.

“Jjong,” you gasp, voice shaking. “I want you to come inside me... fill me up.”

He exhales sharply against your back. That’s all the confirmation he needs.

His fingers press harder, circling with intent now, pushing you toward the edge with him. His thrusts lose some of their precision, turning almost sloppy with how close he is. But he never stops. Never pulls back. Never breaks the rhythm.

He listens to you. He does exactly what you asked. He wants to make you happy.

When he finishes, it’s quiet. Controlled. A low sound swallowed against your skin as his grip tightens in your hair for a second while he spills deep inside you.

You come seconds after him, forehead nearly touching the railing, the city lights blurring beneath you.

Your walls clench around him, juices mixing, slick and warm. His hips keep moving through it, slower now, drawing your release out like he refuses to let it pass too quickly. His hand doesn’t leave you. His body doesn’t retreat.

He pulls out slowly. Only then does he finally lift his head from your back.

The sudden emptiness makes you whine. The cool night air hits your heated skin, and you feel the warmth of him linger, a faint trail of him slipping down your thigh. The contrast makes you shiver.

His hand immediately steadies you at the waist. He turns you around gently, far softer than he handled you seconds ago. One hand comes up to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

His expression has changed. The edge is still there, but the fire has settled.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice even. Calm. Watching you closely.

You smile at him, still catching your breath. “Perfect.”

Only then does his mouth curve slightly. “Good.”

He leans down and presses a firm kiss to your forehead. Soft and protective. The city keeps glowing below you. But up here, in his hands, you feel completely steady.

masterlist

taglist: @bloomyroses @livonianmaia @keels-8 @darjeelinglemontea @uchihabbynic @matznana @renjinki @answer-the-sirens

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© All rights reserved. Do not edit, or translate without permission. Credit to @mingi-buffering-24-7.

[belongjoong]

HIDDEN PLEASURES --౨ৎ-- OT8 ATEEZ

「summary」 : a set of drabbles displaying each ateez member's biggest kink

「word count」 : 2.8k total (300-450 words per member)

「warnings」 : smut, established relationship, kissing, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (m and f), fingering, titty sucking, body worship(?), car sex, manhandling, face fucking, spanking, pet names including : baby, pretty girl, doll, darling, slut, whore, good girl, love, babygirl. (each member has a clear warning at the beginning of their section, i just don't wanna ruin the surprise :P)

「author's note」 : happy valentines day guys! i have been working on this for a while so I hope you like it<3 feedback is appreciated! cover by @kisssan :P

hongjoong - overstimulation

he LOVES overstimulation, but more specifically, he loves overstimulating you. hearing you plead with him, telling him it’s too much, only makes him want to go further. and when you finally break, he turns into the biggest sweetheart.

you are lying down on your back as your boyfriend fucks into your cunt relentlessly. his thumb massages over your clit in circles, making you whine his name. this is your 4th? 5th? 6th? orgasm, you can’t even remember at this point. the only thing you could think about is your body convulsing in pleasure underneath his touch.

your legs shake as they are wrapped around his waist, allowing him deeper access. “fuck, baby, your pussy feels so good,” he groans, speeding up both the pace of his hips and his thumb. broken gasps escape your throat, accentuating your fucked-out expression. you don’t know how much longer you can keep up.

“c’mon baby, you can give me another one,” he pushes while purposely grinding deeper. “cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

he would stop at nothing if it meant forcing an orgasm out of you. and when you finally felt another crashing over, all you could do was cry out in pleasure, digging your nails into his wrists in the process. “fuuuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, tightening your grip on him.

he spills inside of you while leaning closer to kiss you and muffle your loud noises. his forehead rests against yours and he leaves another kiss on your lips. his thrusts fade slowly into a stop. the mix of your release and his cum made an exaggerated sound as he pulls all the way out of you.

“i don’t know how much more i can take,” you explain with a shaky voice, still coming down from your high.

“i know, doll. i know,” he fakely empathized, as he began to line himself up at your entrance again.

seonghwa - hair pulling

whether you are sucking his dick or he’s giving you back shots, he always finds a way to pull your hair. he also enjoys when you grip his hair during missionary or when he is eating you out. someone’s hair has to be tugged on at all times.

his head is nestled between your thighs, his tongue working its way across your clit with unbelievable precision. his arms are wrapped around each of your legs as they rest on his shoulders to keep you from squirming.

his nose brushes across your bud deliciously each time he drags his tongue up from your entrance. his black strands of hair are trapped in sections between your fingertips, gripping tighter with each movement.

“h-hwa, i’m close,” you whine out, mindlessly gripping his hair harder. he hums in satisfaction as his nails start to dig crescent shapes into your thighs.

he looks up at you with his boba eyes and a pussy drunk type look on his face. “you taste so good baby, hold on just a little longer,” he dives back into your heat.

your head lolls back as you try to hold in your orgasm for as long as possible. but the way his tongue worked your clit, and his fingers brushed your spongy spot with each thrust only pushed you closer to the edge. it was becoming harder and harder to stay still, to the point where he had to hold you in your place.

the way you gripped his hair made the tent in his boxers grow larger and tighter. it turns him on so much. “there you go. cum on my tongue, darling,” he begged while making eye contact with your worn out expression.

not even a second later, the feeling takes over. the twitching legs, the unsteady breathing, everything. and seonghwa was there to work you through it. “ahh, fuckkkk,” you cry out in pleasure, as he gets ready to unzip his pants.

yunho - size kink

it’s mainly the power dynamics that he likes. he finds pleasure in the fact that he could easily over power you at any time, and how small you are compared to him. seeing the bulge of his large dick in your belly is also a plus :3

the way his hand holds your hips, his fingers spanning over their entirety, send a shock up your spine. he squeezes gently, and you arch into the touch, heart beat quickening.

he shifts, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap like you weigh nothing. "i love how you fit right here," he says, hands roaming up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. he cups them, palms engulfing the soft mounds. and you gasp at the pressure, nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your top.

he rocks his hips up, and you feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your core through his jeans. it's thick, making you clench in anticipation. you grind down tentatively, savoring the stretch even clothed, but he stills you with a firm grip on your ass. "not yet," he breathes, fingers digging in just enough to bruise.

his shirt hits the floor first, revealing the expanse of his chest, muscles rippling as you shimmy out of your pants. naked now, you straddle him again, his cock standing rigid between you - long and girthy, the head already leaking pre-cum. yunho guides your hand to it, wrapping your smaller fingers around the base. you can barely close them, stroking slowly as he watches, mesmerized.

“i don’t think it will fit, yunho.”

“don’t worry, baby,” he assures you, leaving a kiss on your temple “i’ll make it fit.” he lifts you higher, positioning you above him. the tip nudges your entrance, slick with your arousal, and he lowers you inch by inch. your pussy stretches around him, walls fluttering at the fullness, the burn of accommodation making you moan. yunho's hands steady your hips, controlling the pace, letting you feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

"that's it," he encourages, voice strained.

yeosang - choking / breath play

he always finds his hands wrapped around your throat when he is inside you. or (per your request) he would hold you in a headlock while he fucks you in doggy, so you could feel his huge bicep while you struggle to breathe.

you can feel his muscular chest underneath your fingertips as his fingers trace the curve of your neck. yeosang pulls you close, his body pressing against yours.

sloppy wet kisses are exchanged between you before he pushes your back onto the couch. his hands roam your body, palms rough against your skin, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples until they’re hard. you arch into him, breath hitching, but he takes his time. mouth following his fingers - sucking one nipple, then the other, teeth grazing lightly.

when he finally settles between your legs, his cock hard and throbbing against your thigh, he pauses. his eyes lock on yours. “you ready?” he whispers, and you nod, spreading wider. he pushes in slowly, your pussy stretching around his thickness. the fullness makes you gasp, walls clenching as he bottoms out, filling you completely.

his hand creeps up your abdomen, then between your breasts, trailing up to your throat. fingers wrap around it gently at first, thumb pressing into the hollow of your neck. he starts to thrust deep, measured strokes that grind against your inner walls, building friction without haste. the pressure on your throat increases with each push, restricting your air just enough to make your head swim. you feel every vein of his cock dragging inside you, as his grip tightens.

“fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, hips rolling lazily. your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging in as oxygen becomes a tease - shallow breaths that heighten every sensation. stars flicker at the edges of your vision, your pussy fluttering around him.

he shifts then, pulling out with a wet sound. “turn over,” he commands softly. on your hands and knees, ass up, he enters you again from behind, slower this time, savoring the angle. one arm snakes around your neck, locking you in a headlock. his massive bicep bulges against your cheek as he squeezes. you struggle for breath, the muscle flexing with each thrust, cutting off air in pulses that match his rhythm.

he fucks you steadily, cock plunging deep, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. the headlock tightens, your face pressed into the corded strength of his arm, inhaling his scent mixed with sweat. pressure builds low in your belly, coiling tighter with every restricted gasp. he releases just enough to let you whimper, then squeezes again, driving you higher.

san - praise kink

he will make sure you know how sexy you are, how good you feel, and kiss every inch of your body just to prove it. every other word that slips from his mouth is a praise. and don’t get me started on when you praise him, because it awakens a different kind of animal.

"you're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, lips brushing your earlobe before trailing down to your neck. he kisses the sensitive spot just below your jaw, sucking gently until you gasp. his mouth moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste you. you arch slightly, feeling the heat building between your thighs as his hands slide up your sides.

he takes his time, worshipping every inch of you. he kisses the swell of your breast, then captures your nipple between his lips, sucking slow and deep while his hand kneads the other. "god, these tits. they're so perfect."

when he reaches your thighs, he spreads them gently, kissing the inner skin, inching closer to your pussy but teasing. "you're dripping for me already." his tongue finally laps at your folds, slow strokes that have you moaning, but he pulls back to kiss your knees, your calves, even your ankles, ensuring no part is forgotten.

"ohmygod, your tongue feels so good, sannie," you whisper, threading fingers through his hair.

he growls low in his throat, the praise sending electricity through his body. in a blur, he pins your wrists above your head, his hard cock pressing against your entrance. "say it again," he demands, voice rough, before thrusting in deep, filling your pussy with one powerful stroke. he fucks you harder now, hips snapping quickly. "fuck, you feel like heaven around my cock. so tight," he leans down to kiss you "so perfect."

the pace builds sensually, his mouth claiming yours in a bruising kiss as he drives deeper, your bodies slick with a thin layer of sweat. every thrust proves his devotion and awakens something inside you both.

mingi - dry humping / frottage

mingi likes the little things in life, and when you are in a situation where you can’t just fuck, dry humping will have to do. but don’t let this sound like it is the second best option, because the passion he puts into it will make you think otherwise.

he reclines his seat just enough to pull you over the gearshift to settle in his lap, your sundress riding up your thighs. the confined space makes everything feel more intimate. the way his palms slide under the hem, gripping your bare skin as you straddle him. his cock hardens instantly against your panties, thick and obvious through his sweatpants, and you shift, pressing down to feel the full weight of it against your clothed folds. mingi exhales sharply, eyes half-lidded as he guides your hips in a slow roll, building the friction.

“love how you feel like this,” he breathes, nuzzling your jaw, his lips leaving a trail of kisses. you rock forward, the ridge of his erection dragging over your clit with each pass, sending jolts of heat straight to your core. no rushing, no stripping away barriers - he savors the barrier itself, the tease of cotton and fleece amplifying every movement. his fingers knead your ass, urging you deeper and faster, while his other hand slips into your neckline, pinching your nipple until you gasp.

the windows begin to fog up around you. mingi's thrusts meet yours from below, his length pulsing as your arousal soaks through, marking the fabric. he watches you, adoring the hue of pink on your cheeks, the way your breasts bounce with the rhythm. “you're everything,” he murmurs, voice strained, and when the pressure coils tight, you shatter against him, clenching onto nothing. waves of bliss rip through without him inside. he groans, hips bucking as he cums, hot spurts trapped and soaking his pants, his arms wrapping you tight.

you have both made a mess of yourselves without even taking your clothes off.

wooyoung - brat / brat tamer dynamics

you live to be a brat, and wooyoung only falls into your trap every.single.time. it is starting to feel like he likes the game just as much as you do. he loves putting you in your place, maybe even slapping here and there, all while whispering degrading things in your ear.

tonight you tease him at the party - brushing your ass against his crotch while dancing with his friends, whispering how you'd rather grind on someone else. he stays cool, but you feel him twitch through his jeans, betraying him.

back at the apartment, the door barely clicks shut before he pins you against the wall, his hand fisting your hair. "think you're clever, huh?" he growls, breath hot on your neck. you smirk, arching into him, but he slaps your cheek lightly, sharp enough to sting, making your pussy clench. “get on your knees.”

you drop defiantly, but your mouth waters as you unzip him, his thick cock springing free.

he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up. “open wide, slut. before i make you.” you part your lips, tongue flicking out to lick the tip, savoring his groan. but he doesn't let you take control. he thrusts deep into your throat, fucking your mouth with rough snaps of his hips. “that's it, choke on it like the desperate whore you are.” tears prick your eyes, but heat pools between your thighs.

he pulls out suddenly, hauling you up and bending you over the couch. your skirt hikes up, and his palm cracks against your ass - once, twice, the slaps echoing as your skin blooms red.

“count them,” he demands, fingers dipping into your wetness.

“one... fuck, two...” you gasp, pushing back, but he spanks harder, whispering, “pathetic. can't even behave without begging for more.” he yanks your panties aside, rubbing his shaft along your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

"please, woo," you whimper, breaking first. he chuckles darkly, slamming deeper. his thrusts are punishing, hips slapping your sore ass, one hand around your throat.

“being a good girl now? taking it like you deserve?” he breathes in your ear, giving you goosebumps. he kisses the marks he left, murmuring, “my perfect little troublemaker.”

jongho - edging

sex with jongho is no quick interaction. it could last an hour, maybe multiple hours. your orgasm is so so close, then he rips it away from you like taking candy away from a child. but once he finally lets you have it, it becomes more earth-shattering each time.

your head spins in a haze of heat as jongho has you pinned down. there’s no frantic rutting here - he is a master of torment, dragging out the fuck for hours, his muscles flexing under your desperate grip.

you've lost track of time. it's been at least two hours of this slow grind, his hips circling to rub every ridge against your sensitive walls, building that fire in your belly until it's roaring.

you arch up, breath ragged, begging with your eyes as the climax hovers just out of reach. “jongho, fuck, let me-“ but he senses it, that telltale flutter of your pussy squeezing him tight, and he freezes, buried to the hilt, his thumb pressing your clit without mercy…then nothing.

he pulls back, leaving you empty and throbbing, a cruel grin splitting his face. “patience, love,” he rasps, before slamming home again, restarting the climb.

his hands bruise your hips, yanking you onto his shaft in deep, measured strokes that smack wetly against your skin.

hours bleed into a fever dream and finally, his pace shifts into feral pounding into your g-spot. “now,” he commands, and you shatter. hours of your built up orgasm ripping through like a storm, pussy gushing around his pistoning cock, waves crashing endlessly.

“yesss, let it all out, babygirl.”

but he doesn’t stop, forcing you to chase your second high immediately after. and then another. and another.

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