I miss your Ateez content😔😔
Can I request a scenario where Ateez’s so complimented them and they get so shy and flustered? I need some fluff😩
pairing: Ateez x reader
warnings: slight suggestive themes, insecurities, reader being smug, boys being smitten hehehe
disclaimer: not my pic!
⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹
⪩⪨Hongjoong⪩⪨
He sat hunched over his desk, shoulders rounded, one hand tugging absently at the hem of his hoodie while the other hovered over the keyboard. The room was quiet except for the soft clack of keys and the low hum of his laptop fan, like the sound of a brain working overtime. You stayed still by the doorway for a moment, watching him from behind. His brow was furrowed, lips moving as he tested lines under his breath, eyes sharp and focused in that way that always made your chest feel warm.
You crept closer, careful with your steps, as if any sudden noise might scare the words away. When you were close enough, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. He startled slightly, then relaxed almost immediately, a quiet laugh leaving him.
“Hey,” he said, voice softer now. “When did you get here?”
You didn’t answer right away. You just held him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his body seemed to loosen now that he knew it was you. He rested his hands on your arms, thumbs brushing over your skin without thinking.
“I love how your brain works,” you said, the words spilling out easily, honestly.
He chuckled again, this time with a hint of curiosity. He leaned back into you and tilted his head slightly, trying to catch your eyes even though you were behind him. “What does that mean?” he asked. “That sounds suspiciously deep.”
You smiled and tightened your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I mean it,” you said. “You’re so creative. The way you play with words, how you turn feelings into something real. It’s amazing to watch.”
He froze.
Not completely, but enough that you noticed the change immediately. His shoulders stiffened, and the tips of his ears turned pink almost on cue. You felt him swallow, then laugh under his breath, flustered and a little disbelieving.
“You’re exaggerating,” he said, though his voice lacked any real conviction. “I’m just… working.”
You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “You always say that,” you replied. “But it’s true. You make things out of nothing. You make people feel things.”
The blush spread fast, creeping down his neck, blooming across his cheeks. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit you knew too well. “You’re really trying to embarrass me today,” he murmured.
You giggled, delighted, and leaned in closer. Before he could say anything else, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just below his ear. He inhaled sharply, a quiet sound that made you smile even wider.
“Yah,” he protested weakly, laughter tangled with shyness. “Don’t do that when you say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” you teased, kissing his neck again, slower this time. “I like seeing you like this.”
He groaned softly and dropped his face into his hands, elbows braced on the desk as if that might somehow hide him from you. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, though there was a smile in his voice. “How am I supposed to work now?”
You hugged him tighter, resting against him as his blush refused to fade. “Take a break,” you said gently. “Your genius brain deserves it.”
He peeked at you through his fingers, eyes bright and a little shy, cheeks still burning red. “You’re dangerous,” he told you, smiling anyway, completely undone and secretly loving every second of it.
⪩⪨Seonghwa⪩⪨
He lay stretched out on the couch, head resting comfortably in your lap, one arm draped loosely over his stomach. The room was quiet and unhurried, the kind of calm that only appeared when neither of you had anywhere else to be. You absentmindedly played with his hair, fingers lightly scratching his scalp, combing through dark strands that caught the light whenever he shifted.
He let out a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded, clearly enjoying the attention. You traced gentle patterns through his hair, tugging just enough to feel him relax further. For a while, neither of you spoke. The moment felt delicate, like it might shatter if disturbed.
Then you stopped.
Instead of the familiar rhythm, your fingers slowed, sliding carefully through his hair from root to tip. He noticed immediately. His eyes opened, and he tilted his head slightly, glancing up at you.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and curious.
You smiled down at him, thumb brushing along his temple. “I was just thinking,” you said softly. “You have really beautiful hair.”
He laughed, short and surprised, turning his face away as if you’d caught him off guard. “Beautiful?” he repeated, amused. “You’re saying strange things again.”
You didn’t let it go. You ran your fingers through his hair once more, slower this time, deliberate. “I mean it,” you said. “It’s soft. And it suits you. You’re beautiful.”
He turned around then, shifting so he was facing you, propping himself up on one elbow. The smile on his face was small but unmistakable, and you could see the faint color creeping into his cheeks. “You really shouldn’t say things like that so easily,” he said, trying and failing to sound serious. “You’re making me blush.”
You grinned, delighted. “That’s the point.”
He clicked his tongue softly and shook his head, though his smile only grew. “You’re impossible,” he said, reaching up to gently flick your forehead. “You know that?”
You leaned closer, unfazed. “And you’re still beautiful,” you added. “Your eyes, your smile, everything.”
He inhaled, visibly flustered now, eyes darting away before returning to yours. “Enough,” he scolded lightly, voice warm despite the words. “If you keep going, I—”
You cut him off by saying his name sweetly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What? You’ll what?”
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he reached out and pulled you closer by the waist, closing the distance between you in one smooth motion. His lips met yours in a kiss meant to silence you, firm but affectionate. You laughed into it, hands instinctively moving to his shoulders.
When you pulled back just enough to breathe, you smiled. “That won’t work,” you teased. “You’re still beautiful.”
His jaw tightened, a playful challenge flashing in his eyes. “You asked for this,” he murmured, before kissing you again, deeper this time, more insistent. His hands slid up your back, holding you close as if daring you to say another word.
You did anyway, murmuring compliments between kisses, laughing softly as he responded with more intensity, clearly determined to shut you up properly. Soon, words became unnecessary, replaced by shared smiles, lingering kisses, and the quiet heat between you as the world narrowed down to just the two of you tangled together on the couch.
⪩⪨Yunho⪩⪨
He stood in front of the mirror, shoulders squared, fixing the collar of his shirt with careful hands. The room smelled faintly of cologne and fabric spray, the kind of clean, warm scent that meant he was almost ready. You walked past him without thinking, then stopped so suddenly you nearly tripped over your own feet.
“…Wait.”
He looked up at your reflection in the mirror, immediately grinning when he saw the way your nose scrunched slightly. “What?” he asked, already amused. “Did I forget something?”
You stepped closer instead of answering, head tilting as you took another breath. “You smell really good,” you said, honest and a little distracted.
His grin widened, pleased. “Ah, that?” He straightened a bit, clearly proud. “I tried a new perfume today. I wasn’t sure if it was too much.”
He turned toward you fully, hands resting on his hips. “Do you like it?”
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, pressing yourself lightly against his chest. Before he could react, you leaned in and buried your face against his neck, breathing him in slowly and deliberately.
He burst into laughter, hands coming up instinctively to steady you. “Hey, hey,” he said between laughs. “That’s not a yes or no.”
“It’s a very clear yes,” you replied, voice muffled against his skin.
He shook his head, still smiling, cheeks already starting to pink. “I really have to get ready,” he said, though his hands lingered at your waist. “We’re going to be late.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes bright. “I don’t care,” you said. “You smell amazing. And you look incredible.”
That did it. The blush spread fast, crawling up his neck and settling deep in his cheeks. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accused lightly, laughing again as you wrapped your arms around him. You hugged him tight, pressing your face back into his neck, clearly enjoying how warm he was getting.
“Maybe,” you said sweetly.
“Seriously,” he warned, trying and failing to sound stern. “If you keep this up, I’m not going to be ready on time.”
You hummed in response, fingers sliding to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, you started undoing them, each soft click making his breath hitch. You kissed the newly exposed skin, murmuring compliments as you went, telling him how good he looked, how good he smelled, how unfair it was that he could stand there looking like that.
“Yah,” he said, voice lower now, laughter replaced by something more strained. “You’re not listening.”
You kissed his collarbone. “I am,” you said. “I just don’t care.”
That was the moment he snapped. With a quiet laugh that sounded more breathless than amused, he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he pressed you back against the wall, lips finding yours in a kiss that stole the teasing right out of you.
“Now you’re definitely the problem,” he murmured against your lips, still smiling, still blushing, but completely done pretending he was unaffected.
You laughed softly into the kiss, arms tightening around his neck as he kissed you again, deeper this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was running out of time. Right then, though, he didn’t seem to care at all.
⪩⪨Yeosang⪩⪨
He barely made it two steps through the door before dropping his gym bag and calling out, voice a little louder than usual. “I’m home. I’m going to jump into the shower real quick.”
You looked up from the couch and nodded, barely registering the words before he disappeared down the hallway. You went back to your phone, scrolling mindlessly, the apartment settling back into its familiar quiet. Water started running a few moments later, muffled through the walls, and you smiled to yourself. He had been busy lately. So had you. It felt like the two of you had been orbiting the same space without really colliding.
When he finally came back, you didn’t hear him at first. You only noticed when the couch dipped beside you.
You glanced up and nearly dropped your phone.
He was wearing a black tank top that clung to him in a way that felt borderline illegal. His arms looked broader, shoulders fuller, muscles still faintly tense from his workout. His hair was damp, a few strands falling into his eyes, and he looked relaxed in that post-gym way that made him glow without trying.
“…Wow,” you said before you could stop yourself.
He blinked, then laughed softly. “What?”
You stared at him openly now, phone forgotten. “How much have you been working out lately?”
A grin tugged at his lips, shy but proud, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks. “Not that much,” he said quickly, then corrected himself. “Okay, maybe more. I started lifting heavier weights.”
You made a small sound of acknowledgment that was really just appreciation. Before he could react, you shifted closer and climbed into his lap, legs folding around his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He stiffened for half a second, then relaxed, hands automatically settling at your waist. “What are you doing?” he asked, amused.
You leaned back slightly so you could look at him. “I was thinking,” you said, lightly tracing your fingers along his arm. “We haven’t had much quality time together lately.”
He sighed, a real one, head tilting back against the couch. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You’re right.”
Your fingers pressed gently into his arm, feeling the muscle beneath your touch. “And you look so good,” you added, quietly but firmly.
He looked away immediately, ears turning red. “You don’t have to say that,” he muttered.
You smiled, both fond and a little smug, and touched his arm again, slower this time. “I do,” you said. “Because it’s true.”
He swallowed, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, clearly embarrassed. You reached up and gently turned his face back toward you, thumb brushing his jaw until his eyes met yours.
“I missed you,” you said softly.
That finally broke through his shyness. He smiled, warm and genuine, eyes crinkling slightly. “I missed you too,” he replied.
Then he leaned in and kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed or hesitant. It was deep, sure, full of everything you hadn’t said out loud. His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you closer as if he wanted to make up for lost time all at once. You melted into it, fingers sliding into his damp hair, smiling against his lips.
For a while, the world shrank down to the couch, his warmth, and the quiet reminder that you were still each other’s favorite place to land.
⪩⪨San⪩⪨
The laptop balanced comfortably on his thighs, the glow of the screen painting the room in soft blues and whites. You leaned against his shoulder, head tucked just beneath his chin, scrolling through pictures of beaches, mountains, little cafés tucked into quiet streets. His arm rested loosely around you, thumb occasionally brushing your arm without either of you really noticing.
“What about this one?” you asked, pointing at the screen. “It says the food is amazing, but everyone complains about the stairs.”
He snorted before he could stop himself, a bright, unguarded laugh that bubbled out of him. It startled you just enough to make you lift your head, turning to look at him.
You smiled instantly. “I love your laugh.”
He froze for half a second, then laughed again, softer this time, trying to brush it off. “You have to stop saying things like that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to have a reputation, you know. Sexy. Charismatic. Intimidating.”
You hummed thoughtfully. “You do.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting a tease.
“But with me,” you continued, shifting so you were facing him more fully, “you’re just San. And I love you the most like that.”
That did it.
He turned his head away, suddenly very interested in the far corner of the room. You could see the blush creeping up his neck, blooming across his cheeks despite his best efforts to stay composed. He cleared his throat and smiled to himself before finally looking back at you.
“You’re very charming today,” he said, voice low and fond. “Do you know that?”
You shrugged, pretending it was no big deal, but your smile gave you away. “Just telling the truth.”
He studied you for a moment, eyes warm, something soft settling into his expression. The laptop sat forgotten between you now, its open tabs still full of destinations you hadn’t chosen yet. Slowly, he leaned in, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw.
He kissed you gently at first, like he was savoring the moment, like there was nowhere else he needed to be. When you leaned into it, smiling against his lips, he let out a quiet laugh and pulled back just enough to reach for the laptop.
“You know what,” he said, clicking it shut decisively, “this can wait.”
You laughed as he set it aside, barely having time to react before he shifted closer, pulling you into his lap. His forehead rested against yours for a second, his nose brushing yours as he smiled.
“I think I need to take care of this first” he murmured.
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He didn’t answer with words. He kissed you again, deeper this time, hands steady and sure as they held you close. The world outside the couch faded away, holiday plans forgotten in favor of the quiet warmth between you. Right then, he wasn’t thinking about reputations or images.
He was just San. And he was exactly where he wanted to be.
⪩⪨Mingi⪩⪨
The screen glowed softly in front of you as rows of movie thumbnails slid past. Mingi held the remote, legs stretched out, voice filling the room as he read descriptions out loud with exaggerated seriousness.
“A retired hitman is pulled back into his old life after—” he paused, squinting. “Okay, that one sounds stressful.”
You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder as he scrolled. He kept reading, voice low and smooth, every word rolling out effortlessly. You barely paid attention to what he was saying. You were too busy listening to how he said it.
“What do you think?” he asked, finally glancing down at you.
You didn’t even look at the screen. “I think I could listen to your voice all day.”
He blinked. “What?”
You lifted your head, smiling innocently. “Your voice,” you clarified. “It’s really sexy. That deep tone. I always melt a little when you talk.”
The remote slipped slightly in his hand. He laughed, startled, loud and flustered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yah, don’t say things like that so casually,” he warned, cheeks already turning red. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
You shifted closer, knees brushing his thigh, body angled toward him now. “You could keep talking,” you said lightly. “I like it.”
He let out another laugh, this one higher, clearly embarrassed, eyes darting anywhere but your face. “Look at you,” he muttered. “You’re such a freak.”
You nodded without hesitation, completely serious. “Yeah. I’m your freak.”
That finally made him look at you.
His blush deepened, but a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, confidence creeping back in. He reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap.
“Is that so?” he asked, voice dropping even lower on purpose now.
You swallowed, smiling.
He leaned in and kissed you, warm and teasing at first, then a little deeper when you leaned into it. His hand stayed firm at your waist, thumb pressing into your side like he was grounding himself. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“You know,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, “we don’t actually have to watch a movie.”
You raised an eyebrow. “No?”
He chuckled softly, that same deep laugh that had started all of this, and kissed your jaw slowly. “I can entertain you in a different way,” he whispered.
The remote lay forgotten on the couch, the movie menu still looping quietly as he pulled you closer, clearly done pretending he wasn’t affected by every word you’d said.
⪩⪨Wooyoung⪩⪨
He sat on the bathroom counter, legs slightly spread, hands resting obediently on his thighs like he had been instructed not to move. You perched on his lap facing him, knees bracketing his hips, close enough that he could feel your warmth even through layers of fabric. The soft light reflected off the mirror, and the faint scent of cleanser and cream filled the air.
“You’re being very cooperative,” you said, smiling as you dipped your fingers into the bowl of face mask.
“That’s because you’re doing it,” he replied easily, eyes already half-lidded as you touched his skin. “I trust you.”
You were gentle, spreading the mask carefully over his cheeks, smoothing it along his jaw, brushing close to his lips without touching them. He sighed quietly, leaning into your hands without even realizing it. Every touch made his shoulders loosen, his usual restless energy replaced by something calm and pliant.
You traced the bridge of his nose with your finger, slower now, more deliberate. “You know,” you said softly, “I really love your nose.”
He opened one eye and let out a short laugh. “My nose?” he repeated. “It’s huge.”
You shook your head immediately, frowning at him like he had said something ridiculous. “It’s not,” you said. “It’s beautiful. It suits you. Just like the rest of you.”
That wiped the grin off his face in an instant. He laughed again, but this time it was higher, nervous, his ears turning red as he looked away. “You’re saying weird things today,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
You smiled wider, enjoying it far too much. “Am I making you nervous?” you teased.
He answered by pinching your sides gently, fingers sneaking under your shirt just enough to make you squeak. You laughed, instinctively leaning forward, hands bracing on his shoulders as you tried to squirm away.
“Hey,” you protested between giggles.
“That’s what you get,” he said smugly, though his blush hadn’t faded at all.
You leaned in before he could do it again and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, careful not to smudge the mask. “It’s beautiful,” you repeated.
He went very still.
His lips parted slightly, then pressed together as he bit down on the lower one, eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, he looked completely unsure of himself, caught somewhere between flustered and flattered. Then he nodded toward the shower with a hopeful tilt of his head.
“Maybe we should rinse this off early,” he suggested lightly.
You gasped in mock offense. “Absolutely not,” you scolded. “It takes fifteen minutes to work.”
He groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically, head tipping back until it lightly touched the mirror. “Those are going to be the hardest fifteen minutes of my life,” he declared.
You laughed, smoothing the last bit of mask along his cheek and patting it gently into place. “Then behave,” you said. “And maybe I’ll compliment you some more.”
He peeked at you again, trying and failing to hide his smile. “You’re evil,” he said fondly.
You stayed there with him, legs still around his waist, hands resting on his shoulders as the timer started. And for someone who complained so much, he didn’t try to escape even once.
⪩⪨Jongho⪩⪨
You stood at the counter, wooden spoon abandoned, both hands wrapped stubbornly around a jar that clearly did not respect you. You twisted once. Nothing. Again. Still nothing.
“Fuck you,” you muttered, bracing it against your hip and trying harder. The lid refused to budge. “Why don't you just....ngh...open.”
A quiet chuckle sounded behind you.
Before you could turn around, Jongho strolled over like he had all the time in the world. He leaned against the counter beside you, eyes flicking briefly to the jar and then back to your face. There was a smug glint in his eyes already.
“Need help?” he asked casually.
You scoffed. “I’ve got it.”
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he reached out, gently took the jar from your hands, and twisted the lid open in one smooth motion. The soft pop echoed in the kitchen. He didn’t break eye contact once.
You stared at him for a second, then laughed. “Wow. I’d be completely lost without your ridiculous strength.”
He grinned, clearly pleased, but shook his head. “You’d be fine,” he said easily. “You’re strong and independent. You don’t need me for that.”
You smiled, setting the jar aside, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I know,” you said warmly. “I can handle things on my own. But I’m still really lucky to have you.”
That wiped the grin right off his face.
A faint blush crept up his cheeks, and he cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the countertop. “You’re embarrassing me,” he murmured. “I can't get flustered over something like that.”
You didn’t hesitate. You reached up, cupped his face, and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed. It was deep and certain, the kind of kiss that left no room for second thoughts. He froze for half a heartbeat, then melted into it, hands settling at your waist as he smiled softly against your lips.
“You don’t look embarrassed,” you murmured when you pulled back just enough to breathe.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not helping.”
Before you could say anything else, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You yelped, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck as he straightened.
“Jongho,” you laughed, surprised.
He smiled down at you, eyes warm, blush still lingering. “You said you’re lucky to have me,” he said simply. “I’m taking advantage of that.”
He carried you out of the kitchen and down the hall, steady and unhurried, like you weighed nothing at all. You rested your forehead against his shoulder, smiling to yourself, feeling safe and cherished all at once.
The food was forgotten. The jar sat open on the counter. And neither of you cared in the slightest.
