🕯️ my friend and i will get ateez tickets 🕯️

WE GOT TICKETS

I SAW ATEEZ

me whenever I have to do actual work instead of searching through the x reader tags. 🙄

a small little tidbit for u guys to hopefully enjoy 🫶

...

“Do you believe in God, y/n?”

“No,” comes your blunt answer, not a breath of hesitation between when he lays the object against your palm and when your lips part to speak. His lips twitch at the haste in your response. Fingers curling around you, Hongjoong digs his grip into yours with enough force to make it burn and sting.

“Then isn’t it funny how one can believe in a God who put him at my mercy?” He arches a brow at you without shifting focus, and you’re the one to break eye contact in favor of looking down at the figure who remains knelt at the altar mere feet away. It makes your skin crawl, and in an act of desperation you shift your head in the opposite direction to look back towards the doors. However this time, rather than it being unguarded, you set your sights on someone else. Familiar in a way that should leave comfort in your bones, and yet.

Dread sinks through you like an anchor seeking purchase at the bottom of an ocean.

There, in the space between a column and the door, stands San. Though in the shadows and just barely visible to you, you can see his cat-like eyes staring back at you through the candlelit darkness so sharply. You know well enough that if he truly wished for you not to see him, then he would be shrouded entirely from your sight. That inkling of familiarity in your gut which you felt upon entering seems more like intuition now. The man at the altar does not budge, almost deluding you into thinking he isn’t truly the man you’re assuming him to be.

“There is no merciful God out there,” Hongjoong continues, fully satisfied with the discontent painting your features, “if one were even to exist. Mercy is a selfish concept made by selfish people to grant forgiveness to those who do not deserve it. Men should not pray to monsters, yet suddenly they are believers when I arrive at their doorstep. Has anyone ever worshipped you, y/n?”

You swallow around nothing to keep yourself from jerking your attention back to San.

“Prayed to you?”

Hongjoong brings your hand up alongside his, letting the edge of the knife rest against the column of his neck. It’s unmarred and clean, compared to the rest of him that you’ve seen thus far.

“Can you even imagine that kind of love?”

“Stop.” You aren’t wholly aware that you’ve just uttered the word yourself, but it does grant you reprieve and your hand falls down to your side with fingers still loosely clutched around the knife. Small and hardly enough to do damage, your mind supplies as your push your thoughts elsewhere. Likely nothing more than a fruit knife.

“I do not consider my actions to be merciful — I’m not quite that full of myself.”

“Do you believe in any God yourself then?”

“Why should I need to believe in anyone other than myself?” Hongjoong hums and looks to his right. Moments later, he is heading up the altar, heels clicking against the polished tiles as he walks right past the prostrated figure at the foot of those steps. Though you are no believer, the sight still feels quite sacrilegious when he positions himself directly in front of the marble altar and leans his weight against it.

The unknown guest at Hongjoong’s feet finally stirs, and you remain rooted to the spot as he stretches to his full height. Long fingers curl around the hems of his hood, and the black fabric barely budges when he tugs it down to rest at his neck. He looks different now, hair bleached even more white and the ends aren’t as frayed compared to when you last saw him, but it’s unmistakably the man you know so intimately. Yet despite apparently being privy to the entirety of this interaction you’ve just had with Hongjoong, Seonghwa does nothing to acknowledge your presence behind him. Hongjoong smiles something fond, gaze almost clouded as he stares down from the heightened altar. When his fingers curl under Seonghwa’s chin, you decide that you’ve had enough.

“Why did you bring me to see this?”

“Me? Well, that’s simple. I didn’t.” You are ready with your retort but the disbelief coursing through you renders you speechless. “You chose to follow.”

slobbering over simon's riley cock, laying across his tensed, trembling muscles of thighs with your breasts flattened, face buried in the coarse spill of fine curls at his groin, growing where they turn wet from your drool and precome that spills down your lips, stretched open around the swollen root of his girth, dribbling with pearly, glistening drops, as you mouth at his sensitive skin, webbed with protruding veins.

you swallow him down your inviting throat, down to the full, round balls of him as his weeping cockhead nudges at the gummy insides of your mouth, where you swirl your tongue around, gathering the oozing precome that floods in your mouth, making your throat bob, as you relax, skimming your curling tongue against the underside of his swelling, throbbing girth, laving up and sucking.

hand heavy at the top of your head, not nudging, but just holding, a touch of simon's while he tries to anchor himself, head tilted back against the plush pillows, drowning in them with a guttural growls that tumbles from his throat, vibrating through his heaving, expanding chest, every nerve alight with almost liquid, blazing heat that sear beneath his navel, his leaking, engorged cock spasming along the engulfing, convulsing heat of your mouth.

just as your pussy, his calloused palm cupping from beneath your plump ass, long, scarred fingers stuffed in where you drip with viscous want, spreading, rubbing from between your fluttering folds, steadily, sweeping his fingers over the puffy flesh, before dipping against your sensitive lips, parting around his fingers with nothing but oozing slick, as he reaches his crooking digits to your soppy, hungry hole.

sucking wet around his fingers, becoming pruney at the calloused tips, as simon thrusts in with wet, squelching shlicks, movements uncoordinated and sloppy, smearing your slick over your folds and his knuckles, tapping in against your spongy, gooey spot that makes your toes flex with a vibrating, garbled keen from around his pulsing, spilling cock, as you swallow spurt after spurt of his thick, hot cum.

the first time you and isagi go to have sex, he gets hard before you even touch him. you tease him by saying “you wanted to fuck me that bad?” expecting his usual flustered face and eye roll.

but when you look up at him, his eyes are lidded and hazy with lust. he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. just bites the inside of his lip with a smile and replies “yeah i did” with complete confidence.

all bc of @nkogneatho