#atinyateez

[alliebyyyyy]

Random messages between you and Seonghwa!!!

note: hello! i know you might be wondering and yes this is a repost because i accidently posted this one a little early back in april and this is the only time I'm not busy anymore so i posted it again lol

[tangerineastronaut]

heavy ♥ s.mingi

You're so very sorry.

Pairing: Mingi x Fem!Reader Genre: smut. just pure smut. slight fluff at the end, 99% smut. Requested: No w.c. 3.9k Warnings: Everything is consensual - rough sex, dirty talk and more dirty talk, choking/breathplay, deep throating, name calling, degradation, slight talk of somno, Mingi seems like an asshole, sort of noncon but not really, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, reader doesn't talk much during, established relationship If you notice other potentially triggering content please let me know so I can add it. A/N: I...I have no excuses. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

“Mingi, I-I‘m sorry—”

“You fucking will be.”

You struggled with the key to unlock the door; he was bearing down on you, already grinding against your ass, but that was your fault, wasn’t it?

You thought it’d be cute to tease him—

> Might’ve forgotten my panties…wish you were inside me.

—but the look he’d given you after opening his phone…the way his jaw ticked, how he’d tugged at the crotch of his jeans. You knew you’d fucked up. 

Finally, it opened, though you almost wished it hadn’t. Mingi grabbed your arm and slammed the door, throwing you against it. 

“Wanna say it again?” he asks, one hand moving to your throat. He towers over you, plump lips forming a half snarl. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. You whimper, the sound dying into a squeak as he puts pressure on your trachea with his thumb. “Say it. I love when you do. It’s easier to fuck that pretty face when I’m mad at it.”

“I-I…” you begin with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

Mingi curses, shoving you to your knees with his heavy grip. When he took his hand off your throat, you began taking deep breaths—it’d be a while before you weren’t gasping for air anymore. You glance up. 

His dark eyes were half lidded, never leaving you as he worked at his jeans. You swallowed, an instinctual response to the sound of the button popping and zipper going down. 

“Open that slutty fucking mouth, baby. Wanna see you drool,” he orders. You open your mouth and keep it open. It’s like muscle memory; you can already taste him. 

Mingi pushes the material down his thighs, stopping half way. His spandex boxers go next, the snap of elastic making you jump. When his cock is freed, it springs into your face, already swollen and ready to be sucked and fucked. 

That was your fault. 

“Don’t look so fucking surprised, y/n,” Mingi says, one large hand fisting your hair and the other gripping his cock. “Wanna send me filthy texts during dinner? Hm? Tell me you’re not wearing panties? Did you think I wouldn’t make you choke on this fucking dick?”

You whimper, feeling drool beginning to leak down your chin. Mingi smirks, rubbing the thick head into your spit.

“Say it, baby. Say it again.”

You sniffle, eyes burning. Mingi is unrelenting, gently bumping your head back against the door. 

“Say it for me, princess. Love that pretty mouth,” he coos in a deceptively smooth tone. You knew better; he was baiting you. You were nothing more than prey to him right now. “Please? One more time for me, be good just this fucking once.”

“I’m sor—”

The minute you try to speak, Mingi forces his cock inside. His hips thrust forward, pinning you against the door and stretching your lips open. He wants to fit it all in one go, to push the head into the back of your throat. When you gag, he grins. 

Your hands go to his hips, shoving, as if that’d do anything. He moved his hand to get a better grip on your hair, tilting your head back. 

“Mmn…hold still, pretty. Gonna use that mouth,” he growls. You dig your nails into his thighs, making him hiss, but that doesn’t stop him from beginning to fuck. In and out, in and out, his cock stretches your throat, giving you seconds to breathe between thrusts. 

Mingi fucks your face until your gagging becomes more violent, pulling out in time to watch you cough and drool on yourself. He still had a tight grip on your hair, and the other went to his cock, now slick with your saliva. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums, stroking himself. It’s somehow menacing, the way his thumb rubs over the head. A threat. “You look scared.”

“I won’t do it again,” you whine softly, swallowing down a mix of spit and precum. “P-Promise.”

Mingi stares down at you until you squirm. He suddenly kneels down and you flinch, though he yanks you forward by your hair. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing the wet corner of your mouth. “You have ten different ways, baby. Half of them don’t need words. Tell me to stop treating you like a whore.”

Fuck. 

You swallow, nails digging into your palms. Your cheeks flush red from shame and Mingi chuckles. He knew you wouldn't, that you know the signals, the ones you'd agreed on when someone decided it was too much, words and taps and gestures.

He was rubbing it in your face—just how much of a fuckdoll you turned into for him.

“No? Don’t tell me you like being treated like this,” he taunts you, a look of faux concern on his gorgeous face. “Nothing but a pretty collection of warm holes for me to choose from. I’ve got plans for you and this cock, baby. Gonna make you suck it some more, then it’s gonna go in that needy little hole between your legs. It’s not coming out of there until you’ve taken every drop of cum from me. Tell me not to do it, baby.”

When you don’t answer, refusing to look at him, Mingi yanks your face toward him with your hair. He forces his mouth over yours, groaning into you as his tongue slips inside. You feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he takes from you, rubbing his cock against your exposed thigh beneath your dress. He sucks and licks and nips the soft flesh of your mouth and tongue, holding you open by the jaw.

Mingi sucks your lower lip and bites it, making you squeak. He laughs and finally releases you, only for you to fall back against the door. 

Strings of drool stretch between you, and you shudder when he licks his lips. But the sensuality is dampened as he stands to his full height, gripping his fat cock and staring down at you. 

“Open wide, babygirl. That’s it…fuck yes. Stop moving, baby. Just take it. If I feel teeth, 'm gonna make it hurt, yeah?"

Your throat is numb. 

Your jaw aches, your fingers are curled into the carpet, but your eyes haven’t left him. He’s standing over you as he’s been doing for the past half hour, though now both of his hands hold your head in place for him. They’re so fucking big, gripping tight as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight. When you’re lucky, you see him bite his lip and whisper that he loves you; otherwise he’s got his head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks into your mouth. 

“That’s it, so fucking dirty,” Mingi groans, hissing as your teeth catch on his massive cock. “I should make you choke on my cum, baby. Should hold that pretty head down until I pump it right down your throat. Feed you like a fucking whore.”

Your dress is soaked in spit and precum, as it’s been dripping down your chin. You consider pulling it off, but you don’t want to expedite his plans for you. So you sit there in your ruined dress, letting the love of your life abuse your throat over and over. 

Mingi looks down at you, thumb brushing over your lips where they’re stretched open, forced by his cock. He bites his lip, cursing under his breath. 

“Say it again, baby.”

“Nnh…” you choke around him. He licks his lips and nods, so you do your best to please him. “Nnhn…nnh…”

Your eyes are wet with tears; drool leaks out around his cock, and you helplessly swallow as you try to speak with the obstruction in your mouth. Mingi watches as though enthralled, nodding the more you choke on words.

“Nnh…”

You finally give up when you splutter with a sob. 

Mingi pauses and growls. He throws an arm against the door, taking the other hand off your face as he pulls out. You quickly gasp for air before he begins thrusting again. 

Without his hands keeping you steady, your head hits against the door repeatedly. Mingi slides his hand behind your head, fisting your hair once again, then leans forward until there’s no space left between him, you, and the surface behind you. Each thrust is less than a few centimeters as he grinds against your esophagus. You weakly cry until he decides he’s had enough, stuffing himself down your throat for a few seconds before yanking it out. You gasp and fall onto your hands and knees, heaving for air. 

Your throat feels raw, your cheeks are wet, your knees ache from sitting on them for so long, but Mingi pulls at you as though impatient. 

You expect him to carry you to the bedroom, probably throw you on the bed, but while you catch your breath you feel his hand on the back of your head. 

“M-Ming—”

“Stick that fucking ass up,” he grunts, shoving your face into the carpet. Your cries are muffled against the plush surface as he holds your head down. 

Where you expect to feel his cock, you instead feel his tongue lick between your sticky cunt lips. You jolt, only for him to chuckle. He says nothing else before burying his face in your pussy. 

You release a loud cry, your hips wriggling from the sensitivity as he sucks your clit into his mouth without waiting. You whine and gasp, fisting the carpet as you moan against it. 

Mingi lets go of your hair only to hug your ass against his face. He sucks and licks, mouthing at your labia and lapping at your slit like candy. He groans and rubs his face between your legs, plush lips feeling like heaven as he french kisses your cunt. 

When he suckles your clit again, you squeak, mouth falling open. He groans and teases the bundle of his nerves in his warm mouth, tongue sliding below the hood until you’re twitching from the overstimulation. He releases it only to lick up and down your vulva repeatedly, as though savoring a popsicle.

“Say something, baby. Tell me how it feels,” he says, slurping and smacking his lips. He moans before diving in again, throat working as he swallows your sweet juices. You shudder, licking your lips from where your front half is flopped against the carpet. 

“Mm. G-good,” you mumble. Mingi smacks your ass so hard you cry out. 

“Fuck, that’s right. Such a juicy cunt,” he murmurs, hands moving to your thighs. He grabs your ass and uses his thumbs to pull apart your pussy. You hear him suck a finger into his mouth before it prods at your hole, making you clench around nothing. 

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen this pussy swallow all eight inches of me, baby. Gonna fuck up this little hole until you can’t sit right.”

You whine and jump when he begins sliding his index finger inside, long and firm, though not enough. Your pussy flutters and Mingi moans, thrusting his cock against your thigh. 

“Got me rutting like a fucking dog after a bitch in heat,” he growls, roughly smacking your ass. “Put those legs together. Gonna use all of you.”

You do as he asks, a little dizzy as you shuffle to close your legs, ass still in the air. His finger begins steadily pumping into you, though you feel something slick and hard wedging itself between your thighs. 

“Mmn…fuck, love your thick fucking thighs baby, takes my cock almost as good as your filthy little cunt,” Mingi groans, hooking the finger inside you. You yelp, and he does it again, and again, roughly poking the inner bundle of nerves. Each time you move, you grind on his cock, your thighs giving him a tight squeeze to fuck into. 

You begin pushing back on his finger, so he adds another. The stretch is good, but nothing like what he’ll feel like when he’s inside you. 

“Look at you,” he groans, watching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. He squeezes in a third and you moan, ass lazily bouncing against his knuckles. “My nasty little girl. Always wants to act so sweet, you just want me to climb on top and pick a hole to use, right?”

“Mmnn…” you mumble, feeling the pad of his finger stroke your inner walls. You were getting desperate, and you hated that. Desperate you is exactly why Mingi gets like this—he knows you. 

“I love playing with this one, like how you scream and beg me to put something in that needy cunt at the same time,” he hums. His thumb rubs over your asshole, and you feel the tight ring of muscle respond to his touch. He chuckles quietly, leaning over you, fingers still fucking into you. “I think I’m gonna use my pretty girl’s pussy. See how she takes it when I fuck her like the horny bitch she is.”

“Mingi,” you whine, currently the only word in your sex-dumb vocabulary. He sighs, pulling his fingers out. You shiver at the cold emptiness, but then your boyfriend is suddenly getting ready to fuck you on the floor of your entryway.

“Bedroom?” you manage to ask, but a firm hand on the back of your neck silences you by smothering your face into the carpet.

“You think you deserve a soft bed right now?” Mingi asks darkly. You hear shuffling; he slips off his jeans and tosses them to the side. When you try to look back at him where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smacks your ass, nearly sending you rolling to your side. 

“The bed is where I fuck my good girl,” he says, pulling you back against his hips. He nudges his cock between your thighs again, thrusting once, hard, and you feel the tip of his cock poking your lower belly. “You’re my bad girl, my little whore who’s desperate for this cock. You’re gonna get fucked right here in the floor.”

You moan softly, and Mingi peels you open again. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, toying with the way your pussy lips stretch open. 

“So fucking wet, look how sloppy you are, baby. Your needy little cunt wants it,” he hums. Mingi flicks your clit, making you shudder violently; he moans in approval before sucking his fingers into his mouth. 

He apparently can’t wait any longer, as he begins to mount you, pulling you beneath him with large hands gripping your waist. You try to lift your upper half, though he shoves you down again. 

“Keep your fucking head down,” he growls, licking his palm and roughly jerking his cock a few times. “Don’t worry about this little cunt, baby. Just focus on staying conscious, yeah? Hate it when I have to hold you up.”

You whimper and wiggle your ass, earning another slap, though it’s not as hard as the last few. This is for a good reason, as he’s tugging you back to him. 

Mingi uses one hand to grip your ass cheek, opening you up to him. He groans, gripping his cock and rubbing it up and down your lips, following the path of his tongue minutes ago. He uses two fingers to hold you open, revealing your hole—he slots his cock against it and begins to push.

You moan and arch your back, gritting your teeth at the sensation of being opened. Mingi’s cock is so fucking thick, it stretches you open deliciously. You can feel every vein, every dip in the swollen member as it slides inside of you, inch by inch. No part of your insides are left untouched. 

You wince when the head nudges your cervix, though Mingi only laughs. 

“You’re not done yet, baby. Open up that cunt for me,” he growls, thrusting once. You whimper as you’re thrown forward. 

“H-Hurts,” you mumble, reaching back to push at his waist. Mingi grabs your arm and twists it around your back, putting pressure on you as he works himself deeper. 

“I know it can fit,” he says, pushing harder. “I’ve been balls to pussy inside of you and had you begging for more. Now let me in before I make it fit. You don’t like it when I do that, remember?”

You shudder at the memories of being pinned down, Mingi’s fingers keeping your hole stretched as he wedges his cock inside, all the while telling you it’s gonna look so pretty, you being wrapped around him.

He was wrong. You loved that. 

He begins rutting against you, ignoring your whines of pain as his cock somehow manages to slip further inside. It takes one last thrust before he breaks you open, and his balls are pressed tightly to your clit. You moan, able to feel him deep inside you. 

“Fuuuuck,” Mingi groans, and you remember why you’re so willing to be used by him—that sound, the sound of him being buried inside his girl, caught between wanting to love her sweetly and fuck her like a whore. 

“Feel it?” he asks, grabbing your hips and leaning over you. “Feel it inside, baby? Gonna split you open on this fucking cock.”

“I-I said I was sorry,” you whine. Mingi smacks your ass, this time grabbing the plump flesh and squeezing. 

“You’re not sorry,” he chuckles, adjusting himself on his knees. “Not one fucking bit, y/n. You can fool every other bastard you’ve ever been with, but I know you, baby. I love you. That’s why I’m gonna fuck you up.”

Mingi saws into you relentlessly. 

Your upper half is pinned to the floor as he drags you onto his cock like a broken doll. He leans over you, using his weight on your body as he grabs both of your arms, pinning them to the floor. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, hips working steadily to penetrate you. “You like to look dumb, baby. Like people to think you’re so fucking helpless. If someone saw this, saw what I’m doing to you…fuck, I’d be crucified. They’d say I’m taking advantage of a sweet girl, using her to feel good, like a pretty little cocksleeve.”

Mingi leans down, biting your shoulder until you yelp. His lips go to your ear as he grinds against your ass, his cock painfully knocking at your cervix. 

“Little do they know, huh? I’d have to beg you to stop instead, beg you to let me pull out of this sopping pussy before you milk me for my fucking cum.”

You moan softly, and Mingi fists your hair. He painfully yanks you off the floor, bending you at an odd angle to lean over and kiss you. It’s wet and desperate, more tongue than lips on both ends, but he doesn’t pull away. He leaves his mouth against yours and fucks you harder, deeper, free hand gripping your waist and nailing you to the floor. 

“Can I, baby?” he groans. “Can I pull out? ‘m gonna pull out unless you beg. Beg me to stay inside this little pussy and make it hurt, let me pump my cum so deep it makes you nervous.”

You whine at his words, unwilling to say much thanks to your pride. But then you feel him begin to slip out, throwing a hand back to grab his hip. Mingi laughs until you dig your nails into his ass, throwing yourself back against him until he fucking whimpers. 

“Jesus fuck—”

“Don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly. “P-please, Mingi…keep going. Want you so bad.”

Mingi curses, using his knee to kick yours apart. You lose your balance and fall flat on the floor, though he curls an arm around your hips to keep you propped for him. 

“Yeah?” he asks, nosing the back of your neck. “Want it that bad? Need me to keep stuffing that needy little cunt?”

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly. Mingi lies on your back, now pressing all of his weight on top of you. It’s hard to breathe, though you can tell he’s close. 

“What if I fuck my load in your pretty pussy? Hm? Might put a baby or two in there,” he groans. You squeak and tilt your head back, surprised to find him right there. Your head rests against his shoulder and you bury your face against his throat. 

“D-Don’t care,” you mumble. “Want it. Want you.”

“I’m gonna go deep, babygirl. Gonna make sure your slutty little body can’t stop it.”

“Yes, fuck, y-yes, Mingi…” you whimper. He curses, his chest against your back. 

“G-Gonna cum, baby. Gonna put one inside you,” Mingi gasps. “You gonna take it? Make me pretty babies?”

You don’t have a chance to answer, as he suddenly groans, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart beneath him. He clumsily thrusts until he manages to snugly fit himself inside your body, head dropping against yours as he begins to cum. You feel his fat cock pulsing, pumping his sperm into you, raising a hand to his cheek. 

Mingi tilts his head and kisses you, the softest kiss all night. His plump lips are gentle against yours, and you forget for a few moments that you’re pinned down in an awkward position with his cock stuffed in you. 

A large hand slides beneath your bodies; before you can ask, Mingi’s thumb and index finger find your clit. He gently pinches, rolling the sensitive bud. 

“F-Fuck, Mingi—”

“Want you to cum. Want that cunt to squeeze my cock ‘till there’s nothing left,” he groans against your ear. You moan as he rubs at your clit, though it’s not until he begins gently thrusting again that you feel yourself coming undone. 

The minute your orgasm hits, it draws a sinful moan from Mingi as your muscles squeeze and work at his cock. You feel him try to pull out with a hiss of pain, though he’s unable to, forced to endure his sensitive cock being milked.

Serves him right, you think, wearily collapsing onto the floor. Mingi follows with a groan until you squirm, reminding him that he’s not a lapdog. 

For a few minutes, the apartment is quiet aside from the heavy breathing. Mingi finally pushes himself up, nearly falling again on unsteady arms. He grabs your waist with one hand and the base of his cock with the other, gently easing out of your sore cunt. You still wince, though it’s not too bad, but he mumbles an apology anyway. He keeps his hands on your ass once he’s successfully pulled out and gently squeezes.

“Shit,” Mingi breathes. You ‘hmm’ curiously, unwilling to lift your head, but he crawls above you to lean down and kiss your cheek. “Nothing. Just like watching my cum drip out like that.”

“Gross.” You crinkle your nose. 

“You okay?”

You glance up at Mingi, resisting the urge to smile. Only this boy could pin you to the floor one moment, and then look lost the next, like he’s not sure if he’s hurt you or not. The other Mingi wouldn’t care, the one who threatens to choke you and calls you a slut, that one was fun. But this one was yours, you loved this one.

“I think I’ve got carpet burn—”

“Me too,” he mumbles, looking at the redness on his forearms. 

“—but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says with a sigh. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head, letting him kiss you properly. He's careful, soft lips molding against yours and looking at you in between kisses to make sure you’re satisfied. 

“I really am sorry,” you mumble against his lips. He hums softly, still kissing you. “For sending that text. I…I don’t know why I did that.”

“Please. Do not ever stop doing that,” he laughs, pinching your cheek. “That was hot as fuck.”

“Then why did you—did you have to throw me against the damn door?!” you huff, pulling back. Mingi sheepishly smiles, nosing at your cheek. You roll your eyes. 

“You liked it,” he sings. You pout. 

You liked it. 

[linamila17]

day 12 #bluesan

OHHHH & this one might be my favorite

[onlyforwoosan]

Wicked, Wild, and Yours— ℧

Pairing: Choi San (Outlaw Hunter!AU) × Female Outlaw Reader (Enemies to Obsession)

Wordcount: 4.8k

Synopsis: You’re a wanted outlaw. He’s the bounty hunter sent to catch you — but San doesn’t want the reward. He wants you. One chase, one fight, and one night where he makes sure you never run again.

Genre: Smut, Dark Western Romance, Enemies to Lust to Something Else, Outlaw Hunter!AU

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Rough sex, Dominant behavior, Gun violence, Knife use, Blood, Hair pulling, Dirty talk (degrading & possessive), Overstimulation, Handcuffs, Emotionally charged tension, Light gore (during fight scenes), Power play (consensual)

The night was quiet—too quiet for your liking.

The bar was mostly dead, except for the usual drunks and card players who were too broke to leave. Oil lamps flickered across creaky floorboards, casting a soft golden light over the worn mahogany bar. You wiped down the same glass for the fifth time, listening to the low hum of murmured conversation and the occasional thump of boots on wood.

Then you heard him.

The sharp clack of spurs hitting the porch. The heavy sound of a man who walked like he owned the dirt beneath his feet. You turned your head just in time to see him tie up his horse, one hand adjusting the brim of his dark hat, the other resting near the holster on his hip like it belonged there.

And then he walked in.

Choi San.

You froze.

Your breath caught, fingers locking around the glass as he strolled through the doorway. The man was sin carved in leather and bone, his coat swaying behind him like the wings of death itself. He waved to a few folks who recognized him—either too stupid or too scared to avoid his gaze. A hunter. The kind of man people whispered about in other outlaw camps. The kind who didn't take prisoners.

You'd seen posters of him before. "Bounty hunter. Ruthless. Gets the job done."  You thought he looked dangerous in the sketches.

But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Your heart pounded harder than it should’ve. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or... something worse.

He didn’t glance at anyone else. Just walked right up to the bar and sat down directly in front of you. When he finally looked up, straight into your eyes—it was like he was already aiming.

"Evenin'," he said smoothly.

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Evenin’.”  He tipped his head slightly, giving you a once-over that was anything but subtle. “You new in town?”

You kept your tone neutral, your face still. “Been around.”

“Hm.” His eyes flickered with interest. “You don’t sound local.”

You shrugged. “A lotta folks ain’t.” 

He smiled then—slow, deliberate, and just shy of cocky. “Fair enough. Whiskey. Neat.”

You turned your back to pour the drink, your hands moving automatically. But your mind was racing. What the fuck is he doing here?

Choi San didn’t just wander into towns like this. He hunted—tracked people down, flushed them out. The kind of man who didn’t ask questions unless he already knew the answers.

And you... were most definitely on someone's list.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it felt like your lungs were trying to crawl up your throat. He couldn’t possibly know who you were, right? You’d changed your hair. Wore different clothes. You were careful, goddammit.

But not careful enough.

You’d been caught once. Only once. That was all it took to get your face on a poster. And San? He didn’t miss.

You brought the drink over and set it down in front of him. “Here.” He took a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“Y’know,” he said slowly, “I’ve seen a lotta faces. Yours… looks mighty familiar.”

Your throat dried up. “Do it?” you managed. He nodded, eyes sharp now. “Mm. Got one of those looks. Dangerous. Pretty.”

You flushed—goddammit, get a grip—and quickly glanced away, pretending to busy yourself with the bar rag.

“Where’d you say you were from again?” he added, voice light but laced with meaning.

“I didn’t.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Feisty.”

You forced a polite smile, muttered something about checking stock, and excused yourself to the back.

The saloon’s back room was hazy with smoke and dust. You slipped in, shutting the door behind you, your chest rising and falling fast. “Haechan!” you hissed.

Your partner in crime—both literally and figuratively—was leaned against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips and a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing you. “What crawled up your—”

“San’s here.”

That made him freeze… He took the cigarette out of his mouth slowly. “The bounty hunter?”

You nodded. “He’s at the bar. He looked right at me. I think he knows.”

Haechan cursed under his breath. “You said he was on the other side of the territory. How the hell did he find us this fast?”

“I don’t know! Maybe someone ratted, maybe I slipped up.” You grabbed your head. “God, Haechan—he’s gonna kill me. You’ve heard what he does.”

He studied you for a second, serious now. “Then don’t give him the chance. Get out. Go out the back, take the alley, and run.”

You hesitated. “We said no splitting up.”

“We also said don’t get caught,” he shot back. “You’re the one they have posters of. You got made. I didn’t. I’ll cover for you if I can, but you’ve gotta move.”

You peeked through the crack in the door. San was still at the bar. Still watching. Like he knew. He lifted his glass and took a slow sip—then winked at you.

Your stomach dropped. Haechan stepped closer. “Go. Now.” You turned, breath shaky, every instinct screaming to bolt. But something held you there. Fear? Curiosity? Or the heat that still lingered in your skin from the way his eyes had trailed over you?

No. You had to focus. You straightened your spine, took one last look at Haechan, and pushed back through the door.

Back at the bar, San looked completely at ease, fingers tapping against the rim of his glass. You swallowed hard and approached. “Sorry about that. Had to check something.”

“All good,” he replied smoothly. “We were just getting to the fun part anyway.”

You arched a brow. “Fun part?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “The part where you tell me your name. The real one.”

Your blood turned cold.

You stared at him, trying to find something casual to say, some smart remark, but your mouth wouldn’t move.. He smirked and reached into his coat. That was all it took… You bolted.

You didn’t wait to see what he was reaching for—gun, badge, poster—you weren’t about to find out. You shoved through the back door, hit the alley running, heart pounding, boots skidding across the dirt. You vaulted over a crate, ducked under a fence, and disappeared into the night.

Behind you, you heard the door slam open and a voice shout, “Shit—!”

You didn’t look back.

By the time San got to the alley, the only thing left was the echo of your boots and the swirling dust in the wind.

He stood there for a moment, glaring into the dark.

Then he smiled.

“She’s fast,” he muttered, already mounting his horse. “But not fast enough.”

Three days had passed since you vanished into the night, slipping through San’s fingers like smoke.

Three fucking days.

He wasn’t used to people getting away—especially not pretty little things who blushed under his stare and ran before he could even finish his sentence.

Now, the hunter was the one being haunted.

San rode through the outskirts of the dusty town under the silver sheen of moonlight. His horse’s hooves beat a steady rhythm against the dirt trail, a low wind stirring the brush. He had one hand on the reins, the other holding a small, battered communicator—cheap tech smuggled in from an old mining town. Outlaws didn’t trust satellites, but he and Woo had their ways.

“You still on her trail?” Wooyoung’s voice crackled through the speaker.

San sighed. “Yeah. She’s hiding good.”

“No shit. You let her run, remember?” San scowled at his best friend's comment. “She was fast.”

“She was hot,” Woo corrected, laughing.

San didn’t say anything. “Oh my god,” Wooyoung continued, smug as hell. “You do think she’s hot.”

“I said she was fast.”

“You said she was cute first. Then fast.”

There was a pause. San sighed again. “She was cute,” he admitted under his breath, just loud enough for Wooyoung to hear.

“Bro.” Wooyoung practically screamed. “Are you catching feelings for a felon?”

“She’s not just a felon,” San said. “She’s... wanted. Like—seriously wanted.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

San rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “I’m just saying... she’s interesting. I usually don’t remember faces. I can’t stop remembering hers.”

Woo whistled. “You gonna kill her?”

“...I don’t know yet.”

San hung up before Woo could answer. And then he heard it.

Voices—angry. Shouts. The sharp echo of a gunshot.

He clicked his tongue and pulled the reins, guiding his horse toward the source. A moment later, he spotted movement ahead.

A fight. No—a brawl.

Three figures. You, some guy beside you—firing back-to-back—and a third, dressed in outlaw hunter gear. The third was large, bleeding from the shoulder, but still charging.

You.

San’s stomach flipped. His hand went to the revolver at his side.

You had a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. Your lip was bleeding, dirt on your skin, your shirt torn at the shoulder. You looked fucking feral—cornered, animal-like, panting as you turned and stabbed the hunter in the side. He grunted and backhanded you hard enough to knock you against the rocks.

San didn’t think.

He jumped off the horse mid-gallop, landing hard and rolling once before rising with his gun already drawn.

Haechan noticed him first.

San caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes before the kid bolted, disappearing behind a cluster of crumbling mining shacks.

You—bloodied, dazed—shoved yourself up from the ground and screamed after him, “You fucking coward!”

And then you turned—and froze.

San stood there, silhouetted in moonlight, revolver drawn and pointed—not at you, but at the hunter who had just recovered and was turning back around.

The man squinted at San. “This ain’t your business, bounty—”

Bang.

San shot him in the thigh. Then again, in the shoulder. The man dropped, screaming.

You stood in stunned silence, barely able to breathe. Your ears were ringing, your head pounding. Blood dripped from your chin. You watched San approach you slowly, holstering his gun like nothing had happened.

You stumbled backward. “What the hell—”

He grabbed you by the wrist before you could bolt.

“Nope. Learned that trick last time.”

With a swift motion, he yanked a pair of worn steel cuffs from his belt and clink—latched one around your wrist. The other he clipped to a leather strap on his horse’s saddle nearby.

“What the fuck, San?!” you spat, struggling.

“You ran once. Not again.” His voice was low, sharp, like a blade gliding against skin.

You tried to pull away, but the chain only rattled. “You just killed him!”

“He was gonna kill you.”

“I had it under control—!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. pissed.

“Your face says otherwise,” San growled, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

His thumb brushed your split lip, slow, deliberate.

You winced—but didn’t pull away.

The tension between you thickened instantly, charged and volatile. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was firm. Commanding. The way he looked at you wasn’t like a hunter and prey—it was something darker. Needier.

“You alright?” he asked, quieter now. He was a little guilty from snarling at you.

You stared at him, stunned. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” His eyes flicked down to your mouth. “Just don’t want damaged goods.”

“Wow. Charming.”

He smirked and released your chin. He turned toward the hunter, who was now crawling away, blood trailing behind him. San didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his second pistol and walked right up behind the man.

“Please—” the hunter gasped.

Bang.

You flinched. The sound echoed through the hills, and then silence.

San returned to you calmly, like he’d just taken out the trash. You sat in stunned silence, chained to his fucking horse, blood on your lip, your stomach twisted.

He kneeled in front of you again, this time slower, his movements careful.

“Next time,” he murmured, “don’t get caught in the dark.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were outnumbered.”

“I had Haechan—”

“Your boyfriend, who ran?” San snorted. “Yeah. Real dependable.” 

You look disgusted. Haechan was most definitely not your boyfriend. He would never be. “Ew! He's my best friend!” You snapped back at him. He looked a little surprised but was kind of happy. Maybe he had a chance..

“My bad, Y/N…”

You glared at him, cheeks flushed with rage. How dare he even use your name? “You think you’re so much better than everyone else because you’ve got guns and a goddamn horse?”

He leaned in close. “No. I think I’m better because I don’t leave people behind.”

You stopped talking. The words hit something raw in you. Something unspoken. Maybe something you’d tried not to feel for years.

San rose, tugging gently on the chain that led to your wrist. “Let’s go.”

You scowled. “What, now?”

“Unless you’d rather sleep next to a corpse.”

You rolled your eyes but stood, dragging your feet. He helped you onto his horse roughly, but not painfully. One hand on your hip, another guiding your thigh up. You yelped when the saddle caught your bruised leg, and he smirked.

“Sensitive, huh?”

“Go to hell.”

“You first, sweetheart.”

He climbed up behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand firmly holding the reins, the other lightly resting on your waist.

“You don’t need to hold me like that,” you muttered.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Just don’t want you falling.”

And with that, he clicked the horse into motion.

The ride was brutal at first—every gallop jostled your aching body. You bit your lip to avoid making a sound, even as you bounced against him, your back slamming into his chest.

When he sped up suddenly, you let out a sharp gasp.

“Easy,” he chuckled. “Didn’t take you for the jumpy type.”

“I’m bleeding, you dick.”

“You’re alive,” he replied smoothly.

The wind picked up, cold and sharp, stinging the open cut on your lip. You winced, and he must’ve felt it.

“You sure you okay?” he asked.

“Why are you being nice?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. Just a bounty to you, huh?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, softer than before: “Not just.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glimpse him over your shoulder. His face was unreadable in the moonlight, but there was something in his eyes—something unsettling. Like, even he wasn’t sure what he meant.

You faced forward again, heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears The rest of the ride was silent. But you could feel him—every breath, every muscle shift, every time his gloved fingers brushed your waist or gripped the reins just a little tighter when you leaned back too far.

And worst of all?

You didn’t hate it.

The ride to San’s hideout was long, but the tension made it feel shorter.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t talk. And San didn’t offer explanations.

The horse slowed just before dawn, stopping at a secluded ranch tucked behind a dead patch of forest. Weather-worn fencing framed the property, and the barn looked half-collapsed. But the house—it was quiet, sturdy, and unsettlingly normal. Too normal for a man who just shot someone in the skull two hours ago.

San dismounted first, then helped you down—not with kindness, but with control.

His fingers didn’t linger, but his eyes did.

He pulled the chain on your cuff taut and led you up the porch. The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dim interior filled with dust, warm light, and weapons. Guns lined the walls in neat rows. A single table sat under a bare bulb, with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

No Wooyoung.

You noticed.

San locked the door behind you. “He’s gone,” he muttered. “Bar hopping. Or fucking someone. Or both.”

You didn’t say anything, but you did blush a little.. Fuck– you blushed a lot.

You just kept scanning the space, taking note of the exits. Of the heavy boots by the door. Of the butcher knife, half-cleaned in the sink.

San watched your eyes track everything. “Smart girl,” he said. “But don’t bother. You run, I’ll just find you again.”

You glared. “You cuffed me to a horse.”

He smirked. “You looked cute like that.”

You scowled, but before you could respond, he grabbed your arm and dragged you further inside, pushing you down into a wooden chair near the table. He crouched in front of you, eyes locked on yours, fingers gripping your chin again.

“Let’s try this again.”

You didn’t resist—but you didn’t look at him, either.

“I wanna know who you were working with. Names. Routes. Safehouses.”

You scoffed. “Like I’d give you shit.”

He tilted his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

He grinned slowly. “You’re not leaving here unless I say so.”

You bristled. But something in your stomach flipped again—something sharp and dangerous and unwanted. He’s insane, you thought. But then he said—

“You thirsty?”

You blinked.

“What?”

San stood and reached for a nearby jug of water. He poured some into a clean glass and set it down in front of you.

You stared at it, confused.

“What the fuck? You were just being an ass.”

He chuckled. “I was always being an ass. Doesn’t mean I won’t give you water.”

You didn’t trust it, but you were parched. You grabbed it and drank. The metal of your cuffs clicked as you shifted. San sat down across from you, one ankle propped over his knee. He watched you sip, then spoke casually.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. I should kill you. Would make my job easier.”

You tensed.

“But…” He leaned forward, eyes dragging over your body. “There’s another option.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What. A deal?” 

He smiled darkly. “No. A punishment.”

Your heart jumped. “The fuck is that supposed to mean—”

His voice dropped low, sultry and razor-sharp. “Punishment like fucking that sweet pussy of yours until you forget your name.”

Heat exploded in your face. “You’re insane.”

“You’re wet.”

“Fuck you—”

“Exactly.”

He stood and crossed the room. You didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Your body was frozen—but not from fear. From want.

He returned with a small key and crouched beside you again. “I’ll unlock the cuffs. But if you run, I’ll catch you. And next time, I won’t be gentle.”

He unlocked the chain.

You didn’t run.

You didn’t want to.

He stood again and offered his hand. “Your choice,” he said, voice low and rough. “Out that door… or to my bed.”

You stared at him, then glanced at the door. You didn’t move. “Thought so.”

He took your wrist, pulled you up, and led you down a hallway. His room was worse than you expected. Dark wood walls. An unmade bed. Guns everywhere. Antlers mounted above the headboard. Shelves lined with bullets, whiskey bottles, and half-ripped wanted posters.

You paused—because three of those posters were yours. One was pinned near the bed. And it was stained.You didn’t ask what the white smear was.

San noticed you looking.

He smirked, leaned in behind you, and whispered, “Got real familiar with you before I met you.”

You swallowed hard.

His hand slid around your waist. The other gripped your shoulder.

He bent you over the edge of the bed, body flush to yours, breath hot on your ear.

“No more talking.”

Then the rip.

He grabbed the back of your shirt and tore it straight down the spine, fabric splitting like paper. Your bra snapped loose seconds later. You gasped, but his palm was already on your back, keeping you bent.

He dropped to his knees behind you, fingers roughly yanking your pants down to your thighs. He didn’t prep. Didn’t pause. You felt him move behind you, heard the telltale crack of a condom being torn open.

Then—

One hard thrust.

You screamed—half in shock, half in need.

“Shhh.. i’ve got you..” he growled, voice hot at your shoulder. “You can take it.”

“F- fuck!” You moaned as he slammed into you again, then again, his hips snapping rough against yours, one hand buried in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he owned you. You couldnt lie, you loved it. Him treating you like this.

“Fuckin’ tight little outlaw cunt,” he grunted. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

You moaned through gritted teeth, body on fire, legs trembling. “S–sannie..”

“You like being bent over like a prize?” he snarled. “Like a bounty?”

You didn’t answer—so he spanked you. Hard. You cried out, biting the sheets.

“Answer me, baby..”

“Yes,” you hissed. “Yes—fuck—yes.”

He fucked you harder.

No mercy. No pause.

He filled you like he was trying to ruin you from the inside out, rough and fast and filthy. He whispered the nastiest shit in your ear—how good your pussy felt, how pretty you sounded begging, how much he was going to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

Your voice cracked as you tried to breathe his name, hips trembling under the weight of his body.

“S–Sannie…”

It came out broken, high and desperate. You weren’t even sure if you were begging him to stop or begging for more. The sound of it made him still for just a second — just long enough for him to lower his chest against your back, wrapping one strong arm around your waist to hold you close.

His breath was warm at your ear, the edge in his voice softening.

“There she is…” he murmured, lips grazing your temple. “My sweet girl.”

You whimpered again, tears clinging to your lashes. “I–I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re takin’ me so well. So perfect… you were made for this. Made for me.”

His thrusts slowed — deep and steady now — more like he was savoring you, not just claiming you. His fingers tangled with yours over the sheets, his other hand rubbing soothing circles over your ribs as you tried to catch your breath.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “All messed up for me. Cryin’ for me.”

You nodded shakily, voice trembling, “S–Sannie… it’s too much.. G–gonna cum.”

He kissed your shoulder, moving gently now — hips rolling slow and thick inside you, coaxing every gasp and moan from your throat.

“I know, baby,” he said. “But I’ve got you. You don’t gotta run anymore. You’re safe now… right here with me.”

And with the way his arms wrapped around you, the way his voice dipped into something raw and real, you almost believed him.

Your legs almost gave out—but he held you up, cock driving into you over and over until you were trembling, moaning his name in broken gasps.

When your body clenched and you came hard around him, he cursed, pulled out, and flipped you over.

“On my lap.”

You barely had time to breathe before he pulled you into his lap, straddling him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

He was already hard again. Already rolling another condom on.

You whimpered.

He grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him.

You gasped—eyes wide, back arching.

He leaned forward, grabbed his cowboy hat, and placed it on your head.

“There,” he smirked. “Now you look real pretty.”

You couldn’t speak.

You just rode him—driven by some fever you couldn’t explain, some need that had been burning for days. He held your waist and fucked up into you, your bodies slamming together, the hat slipping down your forehead.

He groaned every time you clenched, every time you whispered his name, every time you lost rhythm and whimpered into his neck.

“Naughty fuckin’ little outlaw,” he breathed. “Could’ve been mine this whole time.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered.

“And you’re soaked.”

You shuddered.

He let you ride him until your thighs burned and your legs collapsed. Your forehead stayed pressed to his as your hips moved faster, his hands gripping you tighter like he was trying to anchor both of you. San's breath was ragged, warm puffs against your mouth as he looked at you — not just your body, but you.

“I’m close,” you whispered, voice barely holding together, “Sannie, I—”

His hands slid up your back, one curling into your hair, tugging gently to tilt your face to his. “I know, baby. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Your fingers dug into his chest as you ground down on him harder, chasing that high that sat right on the edge of every nerve in your body. His mouth brushed yours — not quite a kiss, just breath and warmth and the tremble of restraint in him.

“That’s it,” he whispered again, voice thick. “Ride it out for me. Take everything I give you.”

You cried out his name — sharp and breathless — as your body finally broke, pleasure rolling through you like a wave that knocked the air from your lungs. You clung to him, gasping, the world spinning around you as your muscles tensed and fluttered with each pulse of release.

San groaned deep in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he bucked up into you once, twice, chasing his own edge. “You’re perfect,” he choked out. “So fucking perfect.”

Then he pulled you fully against his chest, burying his face in your neck as he followed you over the edge — body shuddering, breath caught between a curse and your name.

Then he laid you down.

The bed creaked as he hovered over you, finally slow, finally controlled.

He kissed your neck once—just once.

Then he slid into you again, slow and deep.

You gasped, already sensitive.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let me feel you.”

This time, he didn’t pound you.

He rolled his hips with care, like he was learning your body. His hand found yours and pinned it over your head, his other hand gripping your jaw as he looked into your eyes.

“You were always gonna be mine,” he murmured.

Your lips parted.

You believed him.

And when you came again—shaking and breathless—he followed you, burying his face in your neck as his body tensed and trembled against yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetie..” He murmured in your ear.. You held onto his biceps.. Your eyes starting to close…

The bed was cold.

San’s hand dragged across the sheets as his eyes blinked open, muscles sore and head fuzzy from a sleep that felt far too short. The room was quiet—too quiet. No footsteps. No smartass remarks. No soft, sleepy breaths beside him.

He sat up quickly, heart already racing.

You were gone.

The cuffs were off. The door hadn’t slammed. You’d slipped out quietly, like smoke through a crack in the wall.

He cursed under his breath and scanned the room. That’s when he saw it:

A folded note, sitting crooked on the nightstand, weighted down by one of your spent bullets—small, but unmistakably yours.

He stared at it for a moment, jaw tight.

Then picked it up.

The paper smelled faintly like you—leather, dirt, and something sweeter underneath. He unfolded it carefully, like if he opened it too fast you might vanish for good.

Your handwriting spilled across the page, messy but confident.

“Morning, cowboy. Didn’t mean to disappear without a kiss. You were snoring too loud.”

“Don’t get your ego all twisted. Last night wasn’t a surrender—it was a draw. A damn good one, though.”

“I liked the way you touched me like you owned me. Even if I don’t belong to anyone… not really.”

“You’re dangerous. All coiled muscle and rough hands and a mouth that makes it impossible to think straight. Guess that’s why I didn’t shoot you when I had the chance.”

“But I’m not good at staying. Never was. Never tried to be. There’s always a bounty, always someone chasing me, always another dusty town to disappear into.”

“Still… you felt different. Even if I won’t say it out loud.”

“And maybe I’m stupid for leaving. Maybe I’m scared. Maybe both.”

“But if you find me again—really find me—”

“I’ll stay.”

“Because for all my running, I think I’ve been yours since the second you walked into that bar.”

—Yours. Always.”  

“p.s .. I love you.”

San didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The note trembled slightly in his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, marked up with scratches and bites you’d left behind. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes locked on the paper like it might say more if he just stared long enough.

She’s gone, he thought.

But she’s not lost.

He folded the note gently and tucked it inside his coat—right next to his heart. Then he grabbed his belt, holstered his revolver, and headed for the door.

There was only one thought in his mind now.

He wasn’t mad. Not even close.

Because now?

He had a reason to hunt you again...

[sugarushwriting]

bff wooyoung x bff f reader

no nut november series 🥜

where reader and wooyoung are best friends, and he helps her out in ways most bffs don’t.

tw/cw. unprotect sex (don’t). adult content featured, read at own discretion!!!!!

you don’t remember how this conversation began. you can’t recall who opened their mouth first. who brought up this topic.

you and your best friend, wooyoung, were just hanging out at his shared apartment. you both had planned on having a relaxing weekend ignoring adult responsibilities.

“what do you mean you’ve never had an orgasm?” wooyoung gasped.

“well, maybe i have, i don’t know, they’re never intense like in pornos or what my friends talk about.”

“honey, for one porns are fake, second it’s because you’re not being satisfied by the right man.” wooyoung scoffed at you.

you suck in a breath, “woo, i can’t even give myself a mind blowing orgasm.” you whispered.

wooyoung looked offended. “what is wrong with you woman?”

you threw your hands in defeat, “that’s what i’m saying!”

after a moment of silence, “show me.” wooyoung suddenly said.

“huh?” your head whipped to face your best friend who obviously didn’t have their brain turned on.

“show me right now how you satisfy yourself. my bestie can’t go around not knowing what a mind blowing orgasm feels like.” wooyoung stated serious.

“woo, first off, what? you can’t be serious,” your jaw was still dropped to the floor. “secondly, aren’t you in a bet right now with mingi and san?”

wooyoung waved it off, “as long as i don’t nut, it won’t count. and yes im serious.”

your cheeks went hot, “woo, you can’t just say stuff like that.” you mumbled.

“say things like what?” wooyoung teased with a smirk, loving when you squirmed around him.

you huffed in annoyance, “saying the word ‘nut,’ to refer to an orgasm. that’s weird.” you said, fiddling your fingers while looking down at your lap.

wooyoung placed two fingers under your chin to have you look at him. with a straight face, “fine. as long as i don’t come, i can watch my bestie please herself and teach her the ways to a mind blowing orgasm.”

you quickly stood up facing wooyoung, “dude!”

wooyoung quickly stood up with a smile, “please? i’m just helping you out sweetheart.”

you hesitated. was it worth it? having your bestfriend who seemly knew how to please a girl in every way, teach you how to have the most mind blowing orgasm?

“sweetheart,” he says softly in a lower voice, “it’s me. woo. i am not here to judge you, okay?”

you bit your lower lip. you looked into his soft eyes, who never left yours. you then nodded shyly, wooyoung getting a big smile on his face.

“great, let’s go to your room.”

“wait, what, now?” you stumbled, being pulled to your bedroom by wooyoung.

“yeah now. no time to wait, sweetie.” wooyoung pushed open your bedroom door and then pushed you to sit on your bed. he went back to your door shutting it, before joining you on the edge of your bed.

he quirked an eyebrow, “well, what are you waiting for?”

wooyoung will be the death of you.

laying on your back, your heart could literally jump out of your chest. somehow, someway, wooyoung has you naked on your bed, while he’s still fully clothed.

trying to contain himself of course. wooyoung always thought you were pretty. gorgeous. beautiful. sexy. but he never wanted to ruin the friendship.

until now.

seeing you laid out bare before him had him going feral. he wanted you. all of you. but he didn’t want to scare you off. and he didn’t want to lose the bet between him and his friends.

“that’s it sweetheart, show me how you play with yourself, baby.”

his words hit deep in you, and you suddenly forgot he was there. well, almost. you could hear him breathing, when your fingers would tease your own folds, your nipples, carefully caress your own body, you’d sense him stop breathing for a while, only to let out a deep, growly moan.

wooyoung was losing his shit. you were wet as fuck, your fingers rutting in and out of your pussy.

he tried his best to use his words to help you out. how fast to pace your fingers. or how slow. when to tease yourself. when to touch your clit. how deep your fingers should go.

and soon, you were letting out a cry of pleasure. and before you could stop yourself, wooyoung’s name fell from your lips with the cry of pleasure.

“woo!” you whined as your orgasm hit. very much so more mind blowing than whatever you’ve done to yourself prior to wooyoung.

not sure if it was because wooyoung was watching and guiding you. wasn’t sure if it’s because you liked being watched. by your bestfriend.

closing your eyes, catching your breath, when you finally opened, wooyoung startled you. he was hovering over your body, eyes dark, cock straining against his pants.

you licked your lips. “woo—,”

“fuck that bet, i want to ruin you sweetheart.”

wooyoung lips attached to yours in a bruising, desperate kiss. years of him yearning for you. years of you yearning for him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, bare legs, glistening lower half wrapped around his waist, leaving a stain to show.

wooyoung didn’t care. grinding his hips with yours, lips sloppily exploring one another, you tugged at his shirt.

he reluctantly let go of your lips to get off the bed and quickly undress himself.

your bestfriend stood naked in front of you. and it only made you wetter. “woo—,”

he quickly crawled back over you, “i’m about to lose out on so much money and pride.” he quickly kissed you, forehead to yours, nose touching yours, breath against your skin. “sweetheart, promise i can fuck you everyday after this?”

“every day . every hour. every—whenever. whatever you want woo, just please,” you begged bitting his lower lip, tugging at his blonde locks and he quickly settled his cock in you.

you weren’t even aware he had aligned his tip to you. wooyoung was quick and sneaky with it.

your mouth opened wide. a loud groan coming out of your mouth, a low groan coming from his.

“so fucking tight, baby.”

“woo, please fuck me, please, please,”

he was thick as fuck, and you could already tell—yes, wooyoung was about to give you another mind blowing orgasm.

his hips snapped against yours, only sound to be heard was skin on skin and the occasionally sloppy kisses in between with bites to one another’s lips.

“so beautiful. so gorgeous. so pretty. all for me.” wooyoung praised, kissing on your face, before tucking his head against your neck. he found a sweet spot, and began sucking.

your eyes rolled back seeing stars. overwhelmed with his lips and tongue sucking your neck. cock thrusting in and out of you at a bruising pace and angle. his free thumb rubbing and stimulating your clit.

it was all too much. “woo, coming—i’m coming,” you breathed out. legitimately out of breath.

wooyoung picked up the pace, sitting upright, angling your legs to lay flat against his chest, almost like you were shaped as the uppercase “L.” his hands gripped your thighs tightly, which for sure would leave marks, but you didn’t care.

you wanted wooyoung to mark you all up. to claim you as his.

“all yours woo.” you said and wooyoung smiled.

“all mine sweetheart. always been mine.” he groaned out in between thrusts. “now come for me.” he growled.

“yes, yes, yes! wooyoung!” you cried out, your second orgasm hitting you like a hurricane. however this one felt different.

it felt like you were peeing, but you know you weren’t.

“oh yes, squirting for your bestie. what a dirty girl you are. mhm.” wooyoung cooed as he continued his thrusts until he came soon after in you.

you cried and whimpered in overstimulation as he continued to rock in and out of you slowly.

“that’s my girl.”

“good girl.”

“told you weren’t getting fucked by the right man.”

“my baby just needed me.”

wooyoung continued his praises as he went semi-soft and pulled out, both your orgasms mixing together.

his come leaked out slowly from you, and wooyoung simply got hard again, seeing you filled with him. he took two fingers from where it seeped out and pushed it back in you, causing you to whimper.

“woo—,”

“just making sure you don’t waste a drop from what i gave you, sweetheart.” he smiled softly.

soon, wooyoung eventually got up and got a wet washcloth and came to clean you up, then cleaned himself.

he kissed your cheek, getting in your bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. his nose against the back of your neck, his breath giving you goosebumps.

“mhm, did you mean what you said?”

you hummed. “you’ll have to remind me.” you chuckled with the biggest smile. wooyoung intertwined your fingers together.

“that i can fuck you whenever, wherever?”

you nodded softly. “but—just let me get my stamina up, okay?”

wooyoung chuckled behind you. “of course.” he kissed the nape of your neck. “get some rest. im hungry.”

you laughed innocently, “woo, if you’re hungry, you can order food.”

“that’s not what im hungry for sweetheart.”

≽^•⩊•^≼

© work of sugarushwriting | do not repost as your own or translate

not proof read bc wrote at work then right before bed 🛌

who’s next 👀 another ateez member? skz member? the boyz member?

won’t write kevin moon for this series since i had 2️⃣ requests for him so i’ll write something separately ☺️

[sannie-young]

⊹₊⟡⋆ Angel K.YS.

Ateez fake texts

Pairing: bf!yeosang x reader

Warnings: extreme fluff, suggestive, smutty MDNI, language

About: Yeosang’s gf must be an angel 😇

Masterlist

Taglist: @pineapple-burgah @lizal1cious

[jaistraww]

Getting my roommate into kpop and legally HAD to doodle my favorite idol of allllll time

Hongjoong inspired me soooooo much and helped me realize I liked dudes lmao shout out to him🔥💪

[kittypusslov]

San’s Love

• Pt 2

CW: Explicit smut (18+), consensual rough sex, D/s dynamics, overstimulation, marking (biting/bruising), possessive language, unprotected sex, body fluids, aftercare.

WC ~ 3.8

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The air in the hotel room was thick, heavy with the scent of sweat and raw desperation. Post-concert adrenaline still thrummed through San's veins, and every ounce of that energy was focused entirely on you. His muscular frame pinned you against the mattress, his weight crushing you into the sheets as his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. There was nothing gentle about him in this headspace—he was a man of overwhelming passion, and right now, that passion was about breaking you down until you were nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess of pleasure.

"I want you to feel everything," he growled, his voice a low, guttural rasp that sent shivers down your spine. "I want you so overwhelmed that you can't even remember your own name."

He drove into you with a brutal, rhythmic intensity that left no room for thought. There was no pacing here—only a relentless, raw assault. Every thrust was deep, bottoming out with a heavy thwack of his hips against your ass. He wasn't using a condom; he wanted to feel every ridge of his cock sliding against your walls, and he wanted you to feel the heat of him filling you completely. The bare drag of him inside you was intoxicating, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

His fingers dug into your hips, leaving red marks that mirrored the intensity of his gaze. He wasn't just fucking you—he was claiming you, marking you from the inside out. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room, obscene and perfect.

"Please... San, please, I can't—" you sobbed, your head tossing from side to side as the pleasure became too much.

"You can," he panted, leaning down to bite your shoulder. His teeth sank in just enough to make you gasp, the sharp sting mixing with the overwhelming pleasure of his cock pounding into you. "Take it. Take all of it."

To ensure you stayed on the edge of a breakdown, San focused on overstimulating you. While he hammered into you, his hand clamped firmly over your clit, his thumb grinding in fast, erratic circles. The combination of the deep, internal friction and the sharp, constant stimulation on your nub was too much. Your breath hitched, turning into high-pitched, broken whimpers as your body trembled beneath him.

"You're so fucking wet," he groaned against your skin, his breath hot on the bite mark he'd just left. "Feel how deep I am? Feel how good I'm fucking you?"

You could only nod frantically, your fingers clutching at the sheets as your walls clenched around him. The pressure was building, coiling tight in your belly, and you knew you were close.

"That's it," he growled, his thrusts becoming even harder, more punishing. "Come for me. Come on my cock."

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, grinding in tight circles that sent you spiraling. Your back arched off the mattress as the orgasm crashed through you, your walls clamping down on his cock as you screamed his name. But he didn't stop—he kept fucking you through it, his hips slamming against yours with relentless force.

"Too much—San, please—" you sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pleasure became almost painful.

"Take it," he repeated, his voice rough with his own approaching release. "Take every fucking inch."

His teeth found your shoulder again, biting down harder this time as he drove into you one final time. You felt his cock twitch inside you, felt the hot rush of his cum filling you up as he groaned against your skin. The sensation pushed you over the edge again, another orgasm ripping through you as your body shook beneath him.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart. San's weight was still pressing you into the mattress, his cock softening inside you as he pressed soft kisses to the bite mark on your shoulder.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of dominance. "You took it so well."

You could only whimper in response, your body completely spent beneath him. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and you knew you'd be feeling the marks he'd left for days.

He stayed there for a moment, both of you trembling. Then he slowly slid out, the wet suctioning sound echoing in the quiet room.

But he didn't let you recover.

San gripped your ankles and shoved your legs up, folding them back until your knees pressed against your chest. The position exposed your trembling, wet entrance and the creamy overflow of his cum leaking from you. He stared at your thighs—thick, soft, flushed deep pink from the friction of his body.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

He moved down, his tongue licking a long, wet stripe, cleaning the overflow of his cum from your weeping pussy. The sensation made you jerk, a desperate cry escaping your lips. Then his mouth closed over your overly sensitive clit in an open-mouthed kiss full of love. Your hips bucked, another sob tearing from your throat.

"San, please—too much—"

He pulled back, moving to your thighs. His mouth spread the mixture of his cum and saliva across your flushed skin, painting you with it. Then he positioned himself, sliding his cock between your thighs, pressing firmly into the crease where they met.

The friction of your thighs acting as a tight, warm sleeve was intoxicating. He grunted, his hips snapping forward as he ground himself against you. The slickness of his cum and your juices acted as lubricant. His hands gripped your calves, pulling you tighter, creating a suffocatingly tight pressure.

"You're so soft," he whispered, his voice shaking. "So fucking perfect."

He continued to fuck your thighs, the raw skin-on-skin contact creating a searing heat. He chased a second peak, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rubbed himself raw against you. His hips snapped forward again and again, his cock sliding between your thighs, the head poking out against your slick folds with each thrust.

You watched him through tear-blurred eyes, his face contorted with pleasure, his muscles straining. He was beautiful like this—unhinged, desperate, using you for his pleasure.

He didn't stop until he was completely spent, his forehead resting against your calf, his chest heaving. A second load of cum splashed across your thighs, hot and thick, mixing with the mess already there.

San's protective nature rushed back in like a tide. He gently unfolded your legs, wincing at the red marks his grip had left on your calves. Then he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you.

He began to kiss the tears from your cheeks, his voice returning to that sweet, devoted tone.

"I've got you," he murmured against your temple. "I've got you, baby. You did so well."

His lips brushed over the bite mark on your shoulder, then the bruises on your hips. Each touch was feather-light now, reverent. His fingers traced patterns on your sides as he held you close.

You nestled deeper into his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath your cheek. The room still smelled of sex and sweat, but wrapped in his arms, you felt safe. Protected. His.

"Stay with me," he murmured into your hair. "Just like this."

You pressed your lips against his collarbone, barely able to form words through your swollen throat. "I love you" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His arms tightened around you, and you felt the rumble of a groan vibrate through his chest. He was still hot against your stomach—his cock, even soft, heavy and warm, resting against your skin. You could feel the dampness of his cum still coating both of you, the slick mess between your bodies a testament to everything he'd done to you.

Then you felt it. The twitch. The subtle thickening of his shaft against your belly.

San's breath hitched. His hips shifted involuntarily, pressing himself harder against your stomach, and you felt him growing—slowly, steadily, his cock filling with heat and weight again.

"I love you so much, baby," he mumbled into your hair, his voice cracking. His hands were shaking as they slid down your back, gripping your waist like he was afraid you'd disappear. "I'm so sorry. You're just—you're too pretty. So good for me. I can't—" He swallowed hard, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "I can't help myself. Fuck, I can't stop. I love you."

He was a mumbling mess, this powerful man reduced to desperate apologies while his body betrayed him completely. His cock was fully hard again, pressing insistently against your stomach, hot and demanding.

Before you could respond, his hands shot to your hips. His fingers dug in with that bruising grip you knew too well, and with one powerful motion, he flipped you over. You landed face-down on the mattress with a gasp, your chest pressed into the tangled sheets, your ass tilted up in a vulnerable, inviting arch.

He didn't go back inside you. Not yet.

Instead, he positioned himself behind you, his heavy heat radiating against your skin. You felt the thick length of his cock slide between your thighs, but this time he pushed further—wedging himself directly between the crease of your ass and the outer lips of your pussy.

The sensation was agonizingly precise. He wasn't filling you, but he was rubbing his thick, slick shaft right against the most sensitive folds of your heat, using the pressure of your own thighs to pin himself against you. Every time he thrust forward, the head of his cock glided over your swollen clit and slid deep into the valley between your cheeks, creating a friction that made your vision blur.

"Look at you," he panted, his voice thick with lust. "Still shaking. Still so wet for me."

He began to grind in a rhythmic, punishing circle, the friction of his cock dragging against your overstimulated nerves sending jolts of electricity straight to your brain. You were already raw, already on the verge of another collapse, and this targeted stimulation was pushing you over the edge. You let out a broken, high-pitched keen, your fingers clawing at the sheets as you tried to push back against him, desperate for the release he was teasing you with.

Then his arm slid under your neck.

San locked you in a firm, possessive headlock, pulling your head back against his shoulder. Your spine arched, your throat and chest exposed, your body pinned completely under his weight. The position made you feel small—utterly owned.

Overwhelmed by the sensation of being trapped, you acted on instinct. You opened your mouth and sank your teeth deep into the hard muscle of his bicep claiming him.

San let out a guttural, strangled groan, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tightened the headlock, his grip bruising and possessive.

"Yes," he growled into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Mark me. Bite me harder. Let everyone know who I belong to—and exactly who owns me.”

He increased the pace of his grinding, his cock sliding frantically against your slick pussy. The combination of the restraint, the pain he was clearly enjoying, and the relentless friction on your clit sent you spiraling. You bit down harder on his arm, tasting copper on your tongue, your body convulsing in a violent, overstimulated orgasm that ripped through you like a storm.

You sobbed into his arm, your muscles seizing around nothing—around the void where he wasn't quite inside you but was touching every single nerve ending. San continued to grind against you even as you peaked, forcing you to ride the wave of pleasure long after it should have ended, keeping you in a state of pure, raw sensory overload until he finally let out a loud, triumphant shout.

His cock pulsed against you, and hot, thick cum splashed across the backs of your thighs and the crack of your ass, painting you in his seed. He shuddered behind you, his hips jerking through the aftershocks, his arm still locked around your neck.

"Mine," he rasped against your ear. "All fucking mine."

San's arm loosened around your neck, and the moment the pressure released, your entire body crumpled. You collapsed flat against the mattress, face-down, limbs spread in a boneless, defeated sprawl. The sheets were damp beneath your cheek—sweat, tears, the slick evidence of everything he'd done to you. Your lungs burned with every ragged breath, each exhale a shaky, broken sound that barely qualified as breathing anymore.

Behind you, San's weight settled heavy on your thighs. You could feel his ass pressing against the backs of your legs, pinning you down—not with intent this time, but with exhaustion. His chest heaved, deep, gulping breaths that matched your own. The room was silent except for the crude symphony of your shared panting and the wet sound of his cum still dripping between your thighs.

You lay there, face pressed into the sheets, unable to move even if you wanted to. Every nerve ending was fried. Your thighs trembled with tiny, uncontrollable spasms, and your cunt—poor, ruined, overstimulated cunt—was still twitching, clenching around nothing, desperate for something to grip even though it had been pushed far past any reasonable limit.

San's eyes roamed over you from behind, and you could feel his gaze like a physical touch—hot, heavy, and deliberate.

He was looking at his work.

Your ass and the backs of your thighs were painted in thick, white streaks of his cum, the viscous fluid slowly dripping down the crack of your ass and pooling against the sheets beneath you. The skin of your lower back was splattered with it, a chaotic masterpiece of his release. The back of your neck was raw and red from the pressure of his arm, dotted with dark purple splotches where his mouth had sucked and bitten at the sensitive skin. Your thighs were bright, angry red—chafed and flushed from the relentless friction of his hips driving against you.

And your cunt. Your poor, twitching, swollen cunt, glistening with your own slick and his cum, still spasming with aftershocks. The lips were puffy and red, abused and overstimulated, clenching weakly around nothing.

San stared at it. At you. At the mess he'd made of you.

His brain turned to mush.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word barely a whisper. His hand trembled as it reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your ass. The touch was feather-soft, a stark contrast to the brutal grip he'd had on you moments ago. His fingertips traced down through the slick mess of cum coating your skin, spreading it slowly, almost reverently, over the reddened flesh.

"You're so pretty," he murmured, his voice thick and dazed. His fingers drifted lower, sliding between your thighs with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He stroked along your slick, swollen folds—barely touching, just feeling the heat of you, the raw, abused softness of your cunt still twitching under his fingertips.

You whimpered into the sheets, your hips jerking weakly at even that featherlight touch. You were so overstimulated that even the brush of his fingertips sent sparks through your nerves.

"Shh," he soothed, his voice low and hoarse. He didn't stop touching you. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles around your entrance, gathering the mixture of his cum and your slick, spreading it over your puffy, sensitive lips. "Look at you. All fucked out. All mine."

He leaned forward, his heavy body draping over your thighs, and you felt the hot rush of his breath against the back of your neck. His lips brushed over the reddened skin there—not kissing, not biting, just breathing against you. Claiming you with warmth alone.

"So good," he mumbled against your skin, his voice cracking. "So fucking good for me. Took everything I gave you." His fingers continued their slow, gentle exploration of your ruined cunt, stroking through the mess of cum and slick with a possessive tenderness that made your chest ache. "Pretty little thing. All mine. All fucking mine."

You lay there, trembling, tears still leaking from the corners of your eyes into the sheets, your body completely surrendered to his touch. You couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could only lie there and let him admire what he'd done to you.

Your cunt was exposed between your thighs, swollen and slick, twitching helplessly in the aftermath of everything he'd done to you. Each involuntary spasm made your entrance clench around nothing, your walls still contracting from the orgasms he'd ripped from you. The sight of it—your poor, abused little cunt, still fluttering, still responding to him even when you had nothing left to give—made something in his brain short-circuit.

You heard him exhale sharply through his nose. His hips shifted against your thighs, and you felt him twitch. Again. Already.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, his voice thick and strained. His fingers traced the edge of your swollen folds, barely touching, just feeling the heat and the wetness there. "Look at you. Still twitching for me."

You tried to respond, but your throat was raw. All that came out was a broken, breathless sound—half sob, half moan.

San's weight shifted again. His hips pressed down, his cock sliding slowly, deliberately, along the length of your ass. He wasn't hard again—not yet—but he was getting there. The thick, heavy length of him dragged across your marked skin, grinding lazily against the mess of cum and sweat and your own arousal.

He was savoring it. Savoring you.

His hands gripped your hips, thumbs pressing into the bruises already forming there, and he rolled his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. The friction of his cock against your raw, overstimulated body made you gasp, your fingers curling weakly into the sheets.

"Can't stop," he breathed, his voice distant, almost like he was talking to himself. His eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding through the mess between your thighs, watching your cunt twitch and clench with every pass. "Look at this pretty little cunt. Still crying for me. Still so fucking hungry."

His thumb brushed over your entrance, feather-light, and your whole body jolted like you'd been struck.

He groaned behind you, low and deep, his hips never stopping their slow, grinding rhythm.

"I can't—I really, I really can't—" you sobbed, the words breaking apart in your throat. Your fingers clawed weakly at the sheets, body jerking beneath him in uncontrollable spasms. Every nerve ending in your cunt was raw, exposed, screaming. Even the feather-light drag of his cock sliding over your swollen folds was enough to send you convulsing, your back arching off the mattress in a violent shudder that had nothing to do with pleasure anymore—just pure, overwhelming sensation crashing through you like electricity.

San groaned behind you, deep and guttural, watching your body twitch and jerk beneath him. His eyes were glued to your cunt—watching it clench and flutter helplessly around nothing, your slick folds swollen and red, twitching with every involuntary spasm. The sight of you falling apart like this, completely undone by his touch, seemed to edge him on even more. His hips stuttered against you, his cock jumping, dragging through the mess between your thighs.

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, his voice cracking. And there was something almost desperate in it now—something raw and helpless. "But I can't—I can't help it."

He was feeling it too. The overstimulation. His cock was bright red, angry, the skin stretched tight and flushed dark from overuse. Every vein stood out prominently along the thick shaft, and the head was swollen, almost purple, leaking steadily. It was so sensitive that even the brush of air against it made him hiss through his teeth. Yet it refused to go soft. It kept twitching, filling, hardening against his will—his body betraying him just like yours was betraying you.

With a shaky exhale, San lifted himself off your thighs. The absence of his weight made you whimper, your legs spreading wider, trembling. You heard him move—felt the mattress dip—and then the creak of the headboard as he settled against it, sitting heavy with his back pressed to the wood. His legs stretched out beside your head, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

You turned your head, lifting it on trembling arms. Your face was a complete mess—tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, slobber coating your chin, your eyes glassy and unfocused. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision, and then you saw him.

San sat against the headboard, chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. His face was flushed dark red, sweat dripping down his jaw, his hair plastered to his forehead in wet strands. His body was a sight—his chest and abs heaving with adrenaline, skin flushed red all the way down to his lower stomach, every muscle defined and glistening. His stomach was slick, coated in a messy mix of sweat and cum and your arousal, the wetness smearing across his tensed abs.

And his cock.

You stared at it, unable to look away. It stood proudly against his stomach, thick and heavy, twitching involuntarily every few seconds. The shaft was red and swollen, angry from overuse, the skin stretched tight around the rigid hardness of it. The head was flushed dark, almost purple, plump and leaking. Little beads of pre-cum dripped steadily from the tip, running down the thick length in slow, glistening trails that pooled at the base where his cock met his balls. His balls were heavy, drawn tight, coated in the same slick mess—cum and arousal mixing together and dripping further down to his thighs. His inner thighs were slick with it, the wetness coating his skin, making everything gleam in the low light.

He was a mess. Just like you.

His hand came up to his face, pressing his palm over his eyes for a moment, and you heard him let out a shaky, broken breath.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice raw. "Look at me. Look at what you do to me."

His other hand dropped to his cock, fingers wrapping around the shaft loosely, and he groaned—loud, pained, desperate—at even that minimal contact. His hips jerked upward involuntarily, his cock jumping in his grip, another bead of pre-cum welling up at the tip and spilling over his knuckles.

He was aching. Sensitive. Overstimulated. And still so fucking hard it looked like it hurt.

His eyes opened, finding yours—tear-streaked, ruined, completely wrecked—and something in his gaze darkened. Hungry. Desperate.

"I need more," he breathed, barely audible. "I need you."