WARNING : actual p*rn links (be careful what you watch, i am not responsible for your media consumption), 5 links for each member, anal, squirting, fingering, riding, LOTS of doggy, some really rough ones, throat fucking, sub! idol (mostly wooyoung lowk), overstim, edging, even more!!! be careful!!!
a/n : you MUST be logged into x (twitter) to watch
THIS WORK IS WRITTEN BY A MINOR, BLOCK IF UNCOMFORTABLE!!!
★ seonghwa. p ⋆·˚ ༘ *
perv! seonghwa loves watching your tits bounce while he fucks you <3
should've known those fishnets drive him fucking crazy 😵💫
he likes showing you off and playing with your cunt in front of the members
"you said you could take it, baby"
he thinks you look so pretty sloppily making out with his dick <3
★ hongjoong. k ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he's fallen asleep on the couch, again, so you decide to wake him up with a treat
just him.
"keep going baby, good girl"
he's got you bent over the couch in the studio- letting off some steam
it's only right to help his baby out after letting him use your ass, right?
★ yunho. j ⋆·˚ ༘ *
yunho makes you take his fingers before he stuffs you with his cock
it's halloween and yunho sent you this video, followed by a text that says "be ready."
this.
yuyu loves to see how far he can push his baby <3
he's so mean :( not stopping until you beg him to
★ yeosang. k ⋆·˚ ༘ *
splitting you open on his cock is his favorite past time
stupid boy should've kept his mouth shut, now he's getting his throat fucked
long distance christmas present
finally letting him cum after teasing for hours
in the dorm w college student! yeosang
★ san. c ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he loves making you squirt
he can't help but want to breed you, even when it's 5am and he's fighting with jet-lag
"nu-uh, baby, don't fucking run from it"
making out with your cunt
"how're you gonna take my cock if you can't handle my fingers, baby?"
★ mingi. s ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he loves when you get so brainless you suck on anything you can get your mouth on
you didn't believe your best friend when she said he would rearrange your guts
"keep that arch baby"
mingi gets off to a video of yunho fucking you (poly! yungi)
you're not selfish
★ wooyoung. j ⋆·˚ ༘ *
wooyoung loves a good fight for dominance even if he wins every time
he looks so pretty cumming on his tummy
pretty boy misses you on tour
wooyoung loves being sandwhiched between you and san
hiiii just wanna say your ateez works have been my comfort reads for a while and I wanted to request a fluffy omegaverse for ot8, something like omega reader nesting in weird areas of their dorm because certain spots smell like the boys: like the kitchen is drenched in wooyoungs smell for example
hello nonie!!! that's such a nice thing to hear, i'm glad you enjoy the stories I write :)
thank u for the request. I love this idea and I hope you liked what I wrote!
wc: 1.7k
genre: poly ateez, ateez x fem!reader, omegaverse, alpha!ateez, omega!reader, a/b/o dynamics, a lot of scent talk, nesting, mentions of upcoming heat, sappy affection, pet names, ateez are suitably dramatic
masterlist // requests: open
--------------------------------------------
The first time, Hongjoong nearly kicked you. It's early morning and he hadn't got to his bed yet, music and beats still running through his head. he'd transferred from the studio at KQ to the one he had at home, and was prepared to settle in for what would end up being 48 hours without sleep.
his mission to get a coffee - the only thing sustaining him right now - was cut short by the way his house slippers caught on your blanket.
Hongjoong squinted down at it, the soft strands of the fluff tickling the sides of his bare feet. he recognised it instantly. of course he did. it was one of your favourites, the throw always curled around your body when you got too cold. it took a second in his chaotic and half asleep haze to identify the lump wasn't just a blanket but you as well.
strands of your hair stuck out the top of the blanket cocoon you had made, head resting back against the bottom of the kitchen counter. despite the strangeness of the situation, Hongjoong couldn't help the immediate noting of how pretty his omega was when she slept. Soft, relaxed, bottom lip pushed out into a pout that he wanted to kiss away.
he found himself smiling fondly as he crouched down, hands moving to brush loose strands of hair from your cheeks. He whispered your name and tapped your cheek.
you sniffed, shifted and angled your head into his hand, seeking the touch of your alpha even in your slumber. Hongjoong's heart did a leap - if it were possible to fall in love with you all over again, he might have just done it.
he tried again, voice a little louder, touch a little firmer, until your eyelids began to flutter.
"...joongie?" you asked, voice heavy with sleep and confusion.
"hello baby girl," he murmured.
you looked at him through heavy eyes and tried to blink away the tiredness. "I didn't think you'd be back tonight..."
fuck, you sounded so surprised when you said it. not accusing, not upset, just pleased. his alpha whined a little, unhappy that he'd left his omega alone for so long. "thought the change of scenery would help," he admitted and ran his scent mark over your cheek, "what are you doing on the floor baby?"
you untangled your arms to hold his hand there, fingers warm and claiming as you dipped your head to nuzzle at his pulse point. you yawned. "smells like woo here," you admitted, shy but honest.
Hongjoong immediately wanted to lower himself and beg for forgiveness. it was comeback season and it was busy. songs that were supposed to be finished had been sent back with a list of changes. more and more photoshoots and filming schedules were put into their calendars. they'd signed on to do a showcase and that meant extra practice. the days seem to stretch on and on with no end in sight.
they'd apologised, warned you in advance. You'd smiled and promised you understood - "just look after yourself, okay?"
and then in the middle of all that, was you seeking the scent of your pack because you missed them so terribly. god, what a shitty fucking alpha he was.
"woo's bed smells like him too," Hongjoong reminded, "and softer."
you shook your head. "its not the same without him there," you confessed, "none of your rooms are."
his alpha whimpered. Hongjoong might have let it slip out.
"come to bed with me," he said as he urged you to your feet. you followed obediently, let him gather you close and tug your blanket around your shoulders.
"don't you have work?" you asked.
he did but there was no way it was going to get done tonight. not with your words in his head, your scent fresh around him and that hopeful light in your eye. "I was just getting water before I sleep," he lied, "so come with me."
you didn't argue with him, let him lead you across the house - half empty with their pack mates on other sides of the country for work - and into his room. the covers were still messy from the last time he'd slept there and you slid into them as if they were your own.
they were, he supposed, just like he was.
You slept with your face pressed against his scent gland, against the mating mark you'd put there. Hongjoong held you tight, anything to make up for lost time.
-
hongjoong: everyone better get their asses home as quick as possible
hongjoong: our girl needs us
-
jongho had never wanted to get home faster in his life. the message from hongjoong sat in the group chat - the one specifically reserved for work, not pack related things - and any follow up message went unanswered. the flight from jeju to Seoul was only an hour and yet it felt like a lifetime, his alpha pacing and tugging at his control.
he barely held back asking his manager to break the speed limit.
you had been theirs for nearly three years and yet he still felt like it was all so fresh when he thought of you. it was like he was still fumbling, trying to find his place with you and desperately afraid of fucking it up.
jongho looked at the group chat again. estimated arrival times and demands for answers still sat without response. he'd be the first one to arrive, the others on later flights because of their schedules.
of course, his mind jumped to the worst - to hurt and pain and death - and he felt sick. but that couldn't be, right? they were all busy but something like that - Hongjoong would have called. his manager wouldn't be humming songs playing on the radio under his breath. the world wouldn't continue turning.
so he tried to breathe through the initial panic, told himself that he was going to curse the pack alpha out for making him nauseous with worry, and assure himself that you were all in one piece.
he barely said goodbye to his manager, stumbling out of the car with his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, and took the steps up two at a time.
and there you were, on the corner of the sofa. your legs were tucked underneath you, a familiar blanket over your feet and clothes that were definitely Mingi's judging by the size on your body. your messy from sleep and your eyebrows were narrowed in concentration as you read something on your phone.
jongho's chest hurt as it always did at the sight of you.
your face lit up as soon as you saw him. "jjong!"
he dropped to his knees in front of you. his hands slid around, desperately seeking for signs of pain or injury, while his eyes jumped over your face. perfect, unblemished and mildly amused by his wandering limbs. he sniffed but couldn't detect any pain - only your sweet honey mixed with the tinges of delight that he was back in front of you.
your own fingers slid up the plains of his chest, hooking in the chain that hung from his neck. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tonight?"
"hongjoong-hyung said you needed us," jongho said softly, "so I came."
he watched the happy surprise dance across your face before it melted into embarrassment. "I didn't," you murmured, shook your head and ducked it low to hide the flush rising on your cheeks. "it could have waited."
jongho let his fingers smooth the creased the fabric at your waist. "nothing waits with you," he said, patient, honest, "what do you need?"
you ducked your head, the top bumping against the centre of his chest. his alpha rumbled at the contact and he dropped his head to press a kiss to the back of your head instinctively.
"I missed you," you whispered, "nothing smells like you anymore and I'm nesting so I was looking your scent and - did you know that the gym still smells like you and sannie?"
understanding hit him then. the tension he still held in his shoulders let him on the next exhale.
"where's hongjoong?" jongho asked patiently.
you smiled shyly. "getting supplies before pre-heat hits properly," you said.
jongho hummed in understanding. "do you need help making your nest?" he asked, "somewhere not on the gym floor."
the tips of your ears went pink. "help me?"
he kissed the curve of your lips. "yeah gorgeous, whatever you need."
your eyes dancing over his shoulders and jongho didn't even need you to ask. he was already shrugging his coat off his shoulders and tugging the jumper off his body. the way you hugged it close, eyes dilating and the way the tension left your shoulders was answer enough.
"Wait," you hesitated, "you said us? Does that mean the others too?"
you looked so adorably excited.
"will be with you in an hour," he promised.
you scrambled onto your feet. "okay, nest. I gotta get it ready. Ready for you."
it was all omega talk, a blabber about a safe place for your alphas to enter. the usual signs that you were about to start your heat. You never spoke that like that normally, never referred to any of them as your alphas in. normal conversation. still, it made jongho's alpha whine in delight and he watched, fond, utterly in love.
their managers would have a field day about the change of schedules, he was sure, and professionally, jongho knew it would cause more trouble later on. right now though, he didn't care. not with his omega reaching for him, his scent mixing with yours and your fingers interlocked with his.
he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and nudged his nose along the insight of your wrist. "tell me what you need me to do baby," he murmured, "I got you."
-
jongho: no one is hurt or dying, beautiful is nesting
san: he couldn't have said that???
wooyoung: he made sangie cry
yeosang: you cried too!
seonghwa: why didn't he answer?
jongho: Hongjoong let his phone battery die
mingi: it is acceptable to cuss out our pack alpha?
yunho: he's gonna pay for my medical bills from this HEART ATTACK HE GAVE ME
hongjoong: I was half asleep!
hongjoong: it wasn't supposed to be so dramatic
yeosang: have you forgotten who your pack mates are?
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.
random boyfriend gestures i associate each of them with.
[ (ateez) ] | more random fluff, established relationship, soft thoughts | warning/s: none, this feels very parasocial
홍중 — 「 hongjoong. 」
⤷ always keeps direct eye contact with you when you’re talking to him. he wants you to know he’s listening to everything you’re saying. no matter what, he’ll stop everything and put his full focus onto what you’re saying. responds with more than just hums or nods, asks questions and gets involved. the way he looks at you never fails to make you blush, words fumbling as you get lost in your own story. hongjoong just laughs, a smirk curling on his lips - “it’s okay jagiya, take your time.”
성화 — 「 seonghwa. 」
⤷ dresses up for every occasion. there isn’t a single event or date that you two go on that seonghwa isn’t dressed up for. the money helps but he has incredible fashion sense on his own. it always makes you proud to have a man that cares about his appearance and knows how to use that skill properly, never leaving the house looking anything but incredibly put together - he secretly puts in more effort when he learns this.
윤호 — 「 yunho. 」
⤷ incredibly patient with you. it might seem simple, but he never gets frustrated with you no matter how hard you might be to teach. likes to teach you how to play his favorite video games, and even if you suck, he’ll just set his big, warm hands over your own and guide your fingers exactly where they need to be. he just doesn’t know that the reason why you suck is because you’re too busy focusing on the way he’s leaning over you and how good it feels.
여상 — 「 yeosang. 」
⤷ when he’s trying to focus on something, he always ties his hair up into a loose messy bun, with a few stray blonde strands. sticks his tongue out as he does whatever he’s doing. you find it so attractive even when he’s simply just reading, watching the way his eyes zone in and with his hair tied back... you just love it when he ties his hair back.
산 — 「 san. 」
⤷ presses kisses to your forehead. no matter the occasion, whether you’re upset or he’s leaving or the two of you are just sitting together watching a movie. he likes to remind you that he’s there, so every so often he lean towards you, causing you to blink in surprise, before pressing a soft kiss against your forehead - his lips are always soft.
민기 — 「 mingi. 」
⤷ reaching anything that’s too high. even if you’re tall enough to reach something, he’ll still make a habit of grabbing it for you. likes being able to do things for you, but mainly it’s because it gives him the chance to subtly show off his muscles, stretching his arm up next to you, leaning in close to you. every single time it takes your breath away, leaving you a flustered mess as he goes back to whatever he was doing before. and every single time he leaves with a shit-eating grin.
우영 — 「 wooyoung. 」
⤷ sets his hand on your lower back to guide you places. doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, every single time he’ll be there right behind you, guiding you. makes you feel safe and protected, and he knows which is why he does it. a simple way to show he’s there without having to say anything and the feeling of his hand on your back never fails to cause goosebumps. he also leans close too, letting his breath fan across the back of your neck as he guides you forward.
종호 — 「 jongho. 」
⤷ gives the absolute best messages. never ever complains either. he likes to be able to calm you in any way he can, whether that be when you’re stressed or just simply something to make you comfortable. he’s incredibly good with his hands, knowing exactly where to press or rub - does it without expecting anything in return cause he just wants to make you happy.
pairing﹢ateez x fem!reader
genre﹢sfw. established relationship + domestic marriage life. parenthood, mentions of baby spit-up/vomiting (wooyoung), mild jealousy, just some fluffy and comedic dynamics.
synopsis﹢becoming parents was something you both prepared for, at least to some extent. what he, your husband and the father of your child, wasn’t prepared for… was the betrayal of watching the baby choose you every time, happily letting him suffer in silence.
the moment your son appeared in this world, both you and your husband were more than happy. blessed to have something you can call yours. being the captain of ateez had its amazing perks when it came to dealing with kids, but your baby is in full meltdown mode. red and soft cheeks, hot tears streaming down, and little fists shaking.
HONGJOONG tried everything. from gently bouncing, to soft humming, playing with the tiny stuffed plushie of jjoongrami he had, to finally whispering, “c’mon buddy, daddy loves you…” sadly nothing worked. the crying only gets louder as the four-month-old baby seems not to enjoy his father's bribing. that's not until you walk over, pick him up… and he immediately hiccups, sniffles, and collapses into your chest like a koala.
he calmed down instantly, and your husband just stares, baffled by the way that just only from your touch, the small treasure seems to be at peace now. no more crying, no more fussing, just being in mama’s arms.
“did i– did i do something wrong?” his voice breaks in the middle like he’s the one about to cry. how did you just do that? genuinely, how, because he was about to call his mother and ask for advice.
you rub your boy’s back, gently as you sway and rock him, feeling his little breaths hit your skin, trying not to laugh at his father. “no, joongie… he just likes the warmth.” hongjoong slumps onto the couch, dragging a hand across his face, because all his attempts were unsuccessful, and he might have to call his or your mother, just to ask a few questions for next time.
“but i produce warmth too… i can be warm…” he looks betrayed, like extremely, even a little pout on his handsome face. there's not much he can do about it, you're his mother after all, of course he'll look for mom first and dad later.
afternoon came, the time when you and your son go to take a nap, he starts going through every website with the question: “why does the baby only like mom?”
you’re folding laundry while humming, not even singing, just humming some random melodies you either overheard in a song or just coming up with something on the spot. your baby girl, sitting in her highchair, is utterly hypnotized by your voice. eyes sparkling, little fists tapping the tray, a goofy and drooly smile, adoring her small and squishy face, even her teeth are starting to show, and she just looks so adorable.
hearing the sound of the front door opening and closing means that SEONGHWA came back from grocery shopping, as you hear his voice announcing his arrival. “daddy’s home!” and yes, daddy is home for you and your little princess. alas, the little miss doesn’t even glance at him; she just stares at you with pure love and adoration in her eyes.
thankfully he put the bags on the floor before seeing this, because otherwise he would let them go and the eggs would break… but too late, his heart was already broken. “did she just ignore me?”
you laugh, and the baby giggles because you laughed. going to pick her up from the chair and, kissing her soft cheeks and cooing, trying to hand her to him, but all she did was whine, reaching back toward you. your husband dramatically looks at the ceiling like he’s in a tragic drama, blinking at the white color, biting his lower lip.
then you started singing again, humming, and the baby was so happy to hear her mother’s gentle voice once again, not even sparing her father a glance or acknowledging his existence, or the fact that he was about to cry. “is my singing career over? is mommy the new main vocalist of the house… did you train with jongho for this?”
“she just likes my lullaby voice,” you said, kissing him on the cheek, the little one still in your arms, having the audacity to throw him a smile. seonghwa mutters under his breath, he can’t stay mad at his girl, but it still hurts picking the other parent. “i have a lullaby voice too…i literally debuted for this.”
your son adores his father. the little boy loves being swung around, loves sitting on his shoulders, loves being tickled… he just loves being loved in every way that involves the man you call your husband. YUNHO swears his son loves him, just as much as he does… until today.
when you blow raspberries on his tummy, though, your son loses it. it’s a full-body laughter, a whole circus in the nursery, with his head thrown back, legs kicking like he is playing with the national football team. he really loves it when it's time for that, especially after a bath... but someone didn't seem to like it.
the love of your life, the father of your child, just watches from the doorway, completely smitten but also betrayed, because…
“i do that too! i do the same thing!” he could be a big man, in both senses of the word, but sometimes he acted like a child, mainly this side of him took over when he wasn't the winner. “no,” you say, kissing the baby’s cheek again, hearing those loud giggles, “you attack him and pretend to be a dragon, and i’m just the super cool knight who comes to save the prince.”
your son squeals and wraps his arms around your neck. as for yunho, he needs to sit down in the armchair next to the bed where the two of you are. he looks like someone just defeated him with a fatal and unexpected headshot in one of his games. unbelievable, my own blood thinks his mom is funnier than me…”i’m literally the entertainer in this house.”
“don’t pout now, alright? he loves you too!” you took the baby, with new diapers, clean and bathed, and so cute, also for some reason he's such a big boy, a little taller than others his age... dad’s genes are so strong. he didn't stay in his arms for more than a second, before reaching for you again, and your husband gently scoots him away.
“go to mama then… i’ve accepted my fate.” of course, he's joking, but he's a little jealous; however, he hopes his son knows that daddy’s here too, even if he picks mommy first.
your daughter is…exactly YEOSANG. like someone photocopied his baby pictures, a carbon copy, his little twin with those chubby cheeks, dark eyes, and just purely angelic features. she also has a birthmark next to her eye, but it's on the right side. the little angel has you wrapped around her finger; actually, she has everyone wrapped around her tiny finger.
you gently boop her nose, shocked and oh-so in love, “yeosang, she’s literally you. oh my god– look at her! look at her lips, and her cheeks!” to say you’re obsessed would be an understatement. you’re leaning over her, kissing her nonstop while she squeals proudly, and tries to ramble some syllables, still learning to say mama or dada, it’s a tough but so adorable process.
yeosang stands behind you, arms crossed. not that he doesn't love his own child. nonsense, he would die for her, but the fact that you only paid attention to her didn't particularly appeal to him. as much as he was an angel, he could easily be one, well, a petty man, sometimes a savage too. “i think i am the original, though… she looks decent.”
too busy cooing to hear him, you just want to munch on her cheeks, because, why does she have to be so cute? you'll just cry, how could you give birth to such an angel, such a beautiful princess? “she’s so freaking cute i can’t stand the feeling…” kissing her soft and small fingers, “mommy’s sweet girl, yeah, mommy loves you sooo much,”
your husband literally lifts his one hand, like he is in school, trying to grab your attention once again. “do i not exist anymore? i was the other one who helped in the baby-making process, in case you forgot.”
no answer, just his daughter giggles, as you sqeual again, mumbling something about how good she will look with her new onesies. he just sighs, but not before glancing at the baby’s face. you claim that she's a complete copy of him, but that smile on her face is entirely yours. when you finally look up and kiss him too, he blushes, just like his little girl. “okay… fine. i’ll forgive you this time.”
having a 10-month-old baby meant that she was starting to get more curious about how the world works. what mommy and daddy do, or how, when she uses gestures like pointing or raising arms to be picked up, you do it. and why she can't touch certain things. “sweetie, no touching daddy’s water bottle.”
she stops immediately after hearing your voice. this tone wasn't the sweet sound that usually came from your lips that were constantly kissing her. maybe she slowly started to understand simple words like no, and maybe the fact that she shouldn't make mommy angry, because things wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows.
“princess, no touching daddy’s water bottle–” but the moment she heard her father's voice, she immediately grabbed it and held it hard, like it’s some toy she doesn’t want to let go. the pacifier in her mouth, looking at him, pardon, staring dead in his eyes, and SAN is shocked. is this what he gets for when your word is the law, and his doesn't exist? shouldn't it be the other way around, where the dad is scarier and stricter?
“why does she only listen to you?” you shrug at his question, too busy warming her milk. not that your husband wasn't sometimes scary, in the sense of making a remark to her about something, teaching her, but he was more gentle because he felt sorry, and she let out those sweet little pleading eyes that don't work on you. the same eyes her father used, and still uses, to get away with something. “she knows my tone.”
san kneels on the floor in front of his daughter, trying to get the bottle in the meantime, but the baby won't let go. did you give birth to hercules or something? his face close to hers, baby voice activated, lips slightly pouting, just the perfect lure. “is mommy scarier…” but she just blinked, “no? then is mommy prettier? tell daddy the truth.”
the little princess just babbles and pats his face with her free hand, and he melts on the spot. but then you pick her up and she nuzzles into your neck. san lies down, defeated but in love. “i'm jealous that my own daughter listens to her mother more than me.…but she’s an angel so it’s fine. i’ll just… cry a little.”
your son was a bit clumsy and overly energetic, and you wonder where he got it from. still learning to get a good hold of objects, to use his hands, and not to put them in his mouth. even when he accidentally spills a glass of water, or knocks down the tower his father built with the constructor, all you do is coo at him. “oh, baby, it’s okay. come here~”
you scoop him up with the softest voice, baby-talk him, cuddle, forgive him instantly, and he giggles, because mommy is so sweet and pretty. no problems, he's still learning, this small and charming baby, unfortunately, as clumsy as his father, no dna test needed.
however, later, when you were so close to putting him to sleep for his afternoon nap, MINGI decided to drop something heavy on the ground, and you went completely crazy. “song mingi!” oh no, this is the end, because the moment your husband reached out to take the metal spoon, he saw you with a very angry expression. the little cutie on your hip, slightly opening his eyes, yawning, looking so tired, even if he was born nine months ago.
“why…” mingi starts, voice trembling, when your son stares at him, as if he’s watching a nature documentary, between the predator who just happened to be mommy, and the prey, which you guessed right, is daddy himself. “why does he get the gentle mode, and i get the beast mode?”
“because he’s a baby.” you kiss your son’s head, rocking him, and if he decides not to sleep at night, it will be a problem for his father to deal. it won't be the first time this has happened, but you don't want your son's sleep schedule to be disrupted from the start.
“i was your baby first!” you raise an eyebrow at him, because yes, he is right, you are taking care of a child, and a man-child all at once. the man-child you chose to marry and have a future with just sulks, holding the spoon and the half-opened pudding, as the kid decided to babble some comfort nonsense. your husband smiles instantly, considering that in such difficult times, even if his wife nags him, the little boy will always forgive him, which means going to bed at 3 in the morning. thanks again, dad.
your daughter sits in your lap, happy as a baby can be. you just fed her, because your girl has a very big appetite, just like her father, and she is only eight months old. of course, you burped her, and now it was time for the daily dose of cuddles. no issues at all, just mommy and baby having a peaceful time together.
until WOOYOUNG decided to take her for two seconds so you could go to the bathroom. they say miracles happen quickly and instantly, you can just blink and miss a shooting star. but for two whole seconds, the little troublemaker decided she was going to shoot those shooting stars all over her dad's t-shirt… at least it wasn’t the face.
“fuc–…baby why?” and the expression on his face was more than golden. you felt sad, but at the same time, it was so funny. why don't you film with your phone in moments like this? this is priceless, a memory you will forever keep in your mind, maybe even in a few years when she decides to rebel, you will mention: sweetheart, you can’t remember but…you used to throw up on your dad so much like a baby… so please listen to him, alright?
“she’s still adjusting to living.”
“adjusting to what exactly? be a baby sniper, because congratulations, princess, your aim is flawless.” but when he hands her back to you, you laugh, wiping her mouth with the tissues you quickly got from the kitchen. she snuggles immediately into your chest, can’t win against boobs, that’s like cheating, your husband can’t compete with that.
“she’s a daddy’s girl!” you told him and he then took off his shirt, actually ripped it with all the strength he had; thankfully, it was old and worn out. “then why does she treat me like i’m some kind of puree she doesn't like?” he's usually so good with kids, with babies, with you... but it's like she's his sworn enemy. little missy is so naughty, and small and cute, he can't even be mad because it's like looking in a mirror.
“she throws up on me sometimes too.”
“not in front of me, she does not.” he sulks, voice getting raspy from raising his tone a little bit, but then she reaches toward him with grabby hands, and her dad hopes it's not because she wants to vomit again.
this is the most critical moment in your life, clearly more important than the birth of your son, judging by how impatient JONGHO is. he's worried, but at the same time, so sure that everything will go according to plan. two football jerseys are on the carpet, ready to be crawled upon, and see which fate will be chosen. your husband’s favorite team, PSG, or your favorite team.
“alright, little man… this is important, choose wisely, okay?” his father kneels beside him, like a coach analyzing strategy, to pick the formation most suitable for the second half to secure that win against mommy, because, for obvious reasons or not, your son seems to like you more, but not this time. now daddy will thrive and succeed. not that jongho had anything against your team... but he would mind if your son became a die-hard fan of theirs.
you roll your eyes, “honey, it’s not that serious.” because come on, he's only a few months old, maybe when he grows up, he won't even be into football, but another sport, or some kind of art. it's funny that you really think that way, but not in this house.
“it is very serious.” your son crawls toward the psg jersey first, making jongho’s eyes light up like he’d just scored a goal. but before he can swoop in to celebrate, your little trickster spins, giggling, and lands right on your team’s jersey. you freeze, and jongho’s mouth falls open. “wait… what!? no way…” he whispers, voice cracking in disbelief. his hands are frozen mid-air, celebrating, because how… how did this happen?
you kneel, scooping the little boy into your arms, laughing against his big and soft cheeks. his father leans closer, still stunned, and you press a quick kiss to his lips as well. he melts slightly, but his eyes are still wide, trying to process the betrayal. your son leans, smacking a tiny kiss onto jongho’s cheek, little pop-pop sounds escaping him.
“you… you cheated,” he blurts, already ready to accuse you because your man can't stand being defeated. “what did you bribe him with? more boobs before bed? that’s not fair!” you didn’t bribe him, you didn’t whisper secret promises about more boobies before bed, nothing. maybe your son just has elite ball knowledge and knows who the best is. condolence to the father, though, he lost another soldier.
a/n | umm so i got carried away on hongjoong's but it's fineee i guess.. also this is my first work EVER so i hope it's good. feel free to let me know if there are any errors and also i have requests open sooooo
hongjoong_
his phone almost goes unanswered. he's in the middle of discussing stage production, three managers talking over each other while he's trying to explain why one lighting cue needs changing.
his phone vibrates. your contact. a small smile appears automatically. he silences it. then it rings again.
...
and again
his smile disappears.
"excuse me."
he steps into the hallway before answering.
"hey, sweetheart-"
"...is this hongjoong?" not your voice. he immediately straightens.
"...yes."
"i'm y/n's coworker."
his stomach drops.
"they fainted at work."
...
everything else is forgotten right away. the meeting goes on without him. hongjoong doesn't even grab his jacket.
"are they conscious?"
"they're waking up right now, but the ambulance is checking them over."
"which hospital?" his voice is calm. it's the voice he uses during emergencies. inside, though... his thoughts are not calm whatsoever.
did they eat today? they told me they skipped breakfast yesterday. were they sleeping enough? why didn't i notice?
he's halfway to the car before the call ends. when finally reaches you, you're sitting on a hospital bed looking embarrased more than anything.
"i'm okay."
hongjoong just looks at you.
then quietly crouches beside your bed.
"don't scare me like that again."
seonghwa_
he answers on the first ring. always.
"hi, love."
"...um, i'm sorry." he freezes.
"...this isn't y/n."
his heartbeat speeds up immediately.
"they collapsed a few minutes ago."
...
his hand grips the phone tighter.
"are they breathing?"
"yes."
"did they hit their head?"
"a little."
"are they talking?"
the questions come one after another without pause. his voice never shakes. his hands do. he thanks the coworker before hanging up. the members barely hear him.
"i have to go."
that's it. once he's with you, he gently brushes your hair away from your forehead. there's a tiny bandage. his chest aches.
"...you promised you'd take better care of yourself."
you pout.
"i know."
"...and i'm going to help you keep that promise."
yunho_
he answers with a grin.
"what did you forget this time?"
"..."
"...hello?"
"hi, i'm actually y/n's coworker."
the grin fades.
"they fainted."
...
"...what?" he laughs. not because it's funny. because surely he heard wrong.
"...sorry, can you say that again?"
the words sound unreal. he's already standing before the conversation ends. keys. wallet. phone. gone.
the entire drive he's talking to himself.
"they're okay."
"they're okay."
"people faint all the time."
then-
"what if-"
"no."
he refuses to finish that sentence. when you finally see him...
he's smiling. but his eyes are red. he hugs you so tightly the nurse has to remind him not to squeeze too much.
"...never do that again."
you blink.
"...i didn't exactly schedule it."
"...still."
yeosang_
his phone rings during practice. he almost ignores it. almost.
"...hello?"
"are you y/n's emergency contact?"
...
his expression changes instantly. the members notice before he even speaks.
"where are you?"
he writes the address down from memory. he doesn't even need notes.
you blink sleepily as he sits beside you.
"...how'd you get here so fast?"
he looks at you quietly.
"...your workplace is eighteen minutes from our company."
you stare.
"...you know that?"
"...i timed it once."
he looks away.
"...just in case."
your heart melts.
san_
he hears one sentence.
"they fainted."
that's all. everything after that sounds distant. his ears ring. his hands suddenly feel cold.
"hello?"
the coworker's voice pulls him back.
"sorry."
his voice comes out strained.
"can you repeat that?"
he listens. asks for the address. hangs up. stands completely still. wooyoung finds him like that.
"san?"
"...they fainted."
his own words make it feel real. the drive there is unbearable. he keeps imagining you alone.
when he reaches you...
you're smiling weakly.
"hi."
his shoulders finally relax. he crosses the room in seconds and pulls you into a careful hug.
"...don't smile like nothing happened." his voice cracks. "...i thought i lost you."
mingi_
"...hello?"
"hi, i'm calling from y/n's work."
"...yeah?"
"they fainted."
silence.
"...mingi?"
he doesn't answer immediately. his brain refuses to process it.
"they what?"
he grabs the wrong shoes. forgets his wallet. walks into the wrong elevator. hongjoong has to shove his keys into his hands.
"go."
the whole way there he's blaming himself.
they said they were tired. why didn't i tell them to stay home? why didn't i check on them?
when he arrives you're awake. thank god. he sits beside you.
"...you're really okay?"
you nod.
"...promise?"
"...promise." only then does he finally breathe.
wooyoung_
"baby?"
"..."
"hello?"
"hi."
not you. his smile vanishes.
"your partner fainted."
"...where?"
straight to the point. he's already leaving before the call ends. he doesn't remember pressing elevator buttons. he definitely ran at some point.
when he walks into the room- you're apologizing.
"...i'm sorry."
"don't."
"..."
"don't apologize."
his voice is unusually quiet.
"...you scared me enough already."
later after you've fallen asleep, he sits beside the bed holding your hand. he doesn't let go once.
jongho_
his phone rings during vocal practice. he excuses himself immediately.
"...jongho speaking."
"i'm calling from y/n's workplace."
his posture stiffens.
"they collapsed."
"...are they conscious?"
"yes."
"ambulance?"
"already here."
"...thank you."
his voice remains perfectly level. nobody around him realizes how hard he's gripping his phone. until it slips from his hand after the call ends. that never happens.
when he reaches the hospital... you smile.
"...hey."
he quietly sits beside you.
"...why are you looking at me like that?"
"...jongho?"
"...because i never want to get a phone call like that again."
he reaches over and gently intertwines your fingers with his. his grip is steady. firm. like if he lets go for even a second.
𝐚/𝐧: sans was giving me cuteness aggression and i wrote it 😭😭 this is part two to the series i hope you enjoy!!
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: your boyfriend went out with his team members. After having a couple drinks, they start taking shots and he drunk text you asking if you can pick him up.
pairing - bf!San x fem!reader slight bf!San x bsf!Wooyoung x fem!reader
⭑루안: (yk the drill by now) love doing these when i cant write my longer projects, these r less then mingi n yunho but they r longer so its acceptable?
likes, reblogs n comments r appreciated!! requested!! keep them coming!!
series masterlist
bf!San whose - love language is acts of service (and physical touch). He jumps out of bed whenever you need something during cuddle time. If you say you’re hungry and try to get up, he’ll spring to his feet and gently push you back into the blankets, saying, “I got this, baby,” with the most serious, side-quest-accepted expression on his face.
bf!San who - falls asleep the second he gets into bed with you. You could be watching a movie or having silent reading time - the moment he feels your warmth or smells your shampoo, he knocks out instantly.
bf!San who - has to cuddle something when he sleeps, whether it’s your plushies or you. And when it’s you, he drags you with him wherever he flips, strong arms wrapped around you, rolling you over like a weighted teddy bear and almost giving you whiplash in the process.
bf!San who - smiles at you in the mirror whenever you’re getting ready. He’s so proud of how beautiful his girlfriend is, and even prouder watching you make yourself even prettier. Half the time, you catch him just staring at you with that soft, proud grin, dimples out on display.
bf!San who - throws you over his shoulder whenever he wants you somewhere. If he wants you to come cuddle on the couch and you agree, he scoops you over his shoulder and carries you there like it’s nothing. And when you’re being bratty and refusing to do something important, he does the same - and you always end up giggling and lightly hitting his back, asking him to put you down.
bf!San who - drives to every drinking function because he cannot handle his alcohol to save his life. He insists on always being the driver so you can drink without worries.
bf!San who - can’t cook but always tries for you. Whenever he has a break or gets home early, he texts you asking if you’re craving anything. And you already know that means you’ll either need to order takeout later… or have 911 on speed dial because he’s going to burn something (you love him, but he really will).
bf!San who - needs cuddles after concerts. You wait backstage on some random couch with your phone, and the moment he comes back - sweaty, exhausted, but glowing - he walks straight into your arms and curls into you, his cheek pressed to yours as he watches whatever’s on your screen. The guys tease him for being so clingy, but they love how soft and grounded he is with you.
bf!San who - is completely unaware of his size and will full-body lay on you if you’re lying on the couch. He takes any chance to cuddle, head tucked in the crook of your neck or smushed into your chest.
bf!San who - has a calendar in his phone dedicated entirely to you - your appointments, your period, your anniversary, everything. The nail appointments are the most sacred of all; he always suggests colors and shapes. (He absolutely gives stiletto-nails energy.)
bf!San who - sends you gym pics every day he’s there — which is most days. Sometimes they’re cute smiling selfies, but other times he lifts his shirt or pulls his sweats lower to show how well his lower stomach and v-line are coming in, muscles flexed, smirk sly and proud.
bf!San who - gives you the puppy eyes whenever you take your shirt off, and don't have a bra on, pleading with his eyes to touch them, he isn’t scared to beg. When you nod his hands fly to your chest, kneading, squeezing, and not letting go until he absolutely has to.
bf!San who - loves when you scratch his back during sex, or every kind of mark you put on him, but his favourites are bite marks in his biceps, and nail scratches on his back. Him feeling it the next day, his shirt stretching over the tender and red skin during practice is his favourite kind of pain.
bf!San who - will drag you to the gym with him, forcing you saying it would be a great bonding opportunity, but ends up fucking against every equipment he can, standing up against the mirror, showing his own muscles off, putting you on any flat surface, breathing small nothings into your ear. He can't resist touching you when you’re wearing those little skin tight gym shorts, and the way they stretch over the flesh of your ass, he is a dead man.
bf!San who - knows you’re acting up for a reason, sending him teasing pictures throughout the day, wearing skimpy clothes around his bandmates just to piss him off and he isn’t scared to put his little brat into place. “say you’re sorry baby. Say you’re sorry for being a fucking brat” he grunts into your ear, emphasizing every word with a sharp thrust of his hips, or a slap on your ass.
bf!San who - isn’t exactly the oversharer, except to Wooyoung, but he tells him every little detail he likes about you, from your nails raking through his locks, to that pitch you moans his name at when he’s reaching that gummy spot in your walls, and Wooyoung will tell him what to do to help put you to your place, when he sees what pictures you just sent him during practice. And San can’t help but wonder about how hot it would if his best friend helped him out with his little girlfriend.
