✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

You watched him from backstage, rapping like he was born to do it,  dancing like it was breathing for him, and your heart fluttered to see how in his element he was, how happy he seemed to be surrounded by music, by his best friends, and by ATINY. This was Hongjoong's world, and you were happy to be part of it. 

Most of the crew were in various parts of the stadium, making sure lights, sound, and visuals were operating correctly. Near you stood a security guard, one you didn't know well but had exchanged a few polite greetings with in passing. You were grateful that the boys – especially your boy – had such solid protection. 

“You're the captain's assistant, right?” You hear him say during a dance break, when the crowd of fans are hushed in quiet captivation at the guys’ artistic movements. 

You nod, giving a polite smile, not taking your eyes off the show. You didn't want to miss a moment. 

“You like it, being his assistant?” 

The question catches you off guard. You pull your gaze away and your eyes land on him. His arms are crossed, and he's watching the performance as well. Maybe he's just bored, you think, making light, meaningless conversation. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it's good. Keeps me busy, and I love being part of the ATEEZ crew,” you turn your attention back to the show, in which a new song is starting, the boys taking their places. “They're so talented, you know? They're pretty amazing.”

In your periphery, you see him nod in agreement as the song intro builds. “Not too shabby,” he chuckles. 

You give a small, fake laugh in response. The security guard had moved closer to you, just barely. Just to hear each other better, you supposed. 

“He good to you?” 

“Hmm?”

“Is he good to you?” 

You hesitated, faking a smile, though your discomfort grows. You didn't know him well, and his questions were…strange. Random. Maybe you just hated small talk. “Yeah, he's a good boss! Doesn't work me too hard!” 

“I mean, is he like…good to you?” 

You turn to look at him. What does that mean?

The guard laughs at your expression. “Aw, come on. We all know you're fucking him.”

Your heart drops, and you stutter out something, you've no idea what, you're so confused– 

“Now, don't be shy!” the man says, nudging you with his shoulder. “Is the captain a good boyfriend? A good fuck?” 

His tone makes you feel sick to your stomach, and suddenly you want to run away from there. That's none of his business, you know, your brain is screaming it, but you force yourself to stay, to politely wave him off. 

“Ah, sorry,  that's not something we really like to share,” you squint your eyes, your repetitive forced laughs growing dryer and faker with each one. 

“Aw, that's cute. Gonna be hard to keep it a secret for long, though.”

“I'm sorry?” Why am I apologizing? you think. 

The man shrugs. “He's an idol. He's the leader of an idol group. Paparazzi are constantly watching. Believe me, I've had to fend them off a lot.”

“So…?”

“So, people are going to find out about your relationship eventually, and then they're gonna ask questions, and when you don't answer, they're just going to guess.” 

What the fuck are we doing here? You think, pondering over the man's words. What could possibly be the reason for this random conversation? 

“You know, if you ever want something more low-key,” the man puts his arm around your shoulders, muttering in your ear, “There's plenty of more… normal guys in the crew who would be happy to oblige.”

Oh. There it is. 

You pull away from him immediately, fight-or-flight finally activated. 

Thank God this was the last song. 

You mutter something about needing to get ready for send-off and head toward the dressing rooms. First you're shocked, then other emotions start to seep in, and your eyes brim with tears. Why are you crying? It was just a stupid conversation. Just a guy talking. Rudely, yes, but still, just talking. 

You wait in the dressing room, which is blessedly empty. You just need to rest a moment. It's been a long day. 

You're taking some deep breaths to calm down when the boys come in, whooping and chattering. Some wave to you, some offer a quick hello. 

Then, Hongjoong enters. He looks tired, but his smile grows wide upon seeing you. For what feels like the tenth time in the past hour, you force a smile. 

And he notices. A faint alarm going off in his head. He knows you too well to fall for any false faces you put on. But he won't say anything, not yet. He wants you to feel comfortable enough to bring whatever it is up on your own. 

“Hi baby,” he says softly, taking a seat right next to you. “Did you like the show?” 

You nod. “It was so good! You all were amazing tonight.”

“Thank you.” He gives you a quick kiss on your temple as he puts his arm around your waist. “Any notes? Anything go wrong?” 

You hesitate half a second, thinking about the security guard. That wasn't anything wrong with the show, though. 

“No, I think everything went fairly smoothly! I'll talk to the others later, though, to see if everything was okay on their end.” 

“Ah, you're such a good assistant,” Hongjoong praises. “So good at your job and good to me. I don't deserve you.”

His wording strikes a nerve, and you quickly try to push past it, knowing it's going to show on your face if you don't. “Thank you,” you say quickly. You stand, grabbing your tablet and throwing yourself into assistant mode. “You've got send off next, then–um–?”

“ –Then we get something to eat, and go home?” he offers, confusion in his voice. “You doing okay?” 

“I'm fine!” you say a little too cheerily. “Just tired. Let's go do this.” 

At send-off, distracting yourself proves fruitless, but you still attempted anyway. Usually, it's a manager that walks with Hongjoong, but they got busy with another situation, so it fell to you to be Hongjoong's right hand and translator. You put a mask on to somewhat conceal your identity from the fans – most of the ATEEZ crew knew the two of you were dating, but publicly, he was still single and you were just an assistant. You knew fans had their suspicions, but thankfully, the two of you were careful enough that the rumors would tend to fizzle out. 

The security guard's words swirled in your head as Joong when from fan to fan, and you tried desperately to push them away. Focus. You nearly missed it when a fan said something in English that he didn't understand, nearly missed the subtle glance he gave to you that he'd give when he needed help translating but didn't want to make a big scene of it. He cared that much about the fans– even in a language he didn't speak, he didn't want to offend. 

You chuckled weakly when you realized what the fan had said. 

Hongjoong, grinning with a hint of apology crinkling his eyes, glances at you. 

You lean toward his neck to whisper in Korean, “She asks if you'll be her ‘pookie.’”

He turns toward you, confusion finally breaking through his friendly facade. 

“Like jagiya. But more colloquial, friend-like.”

“Ah,” he turns back to the fan, blowing her a quick air kiss and saying in English, “I am already Atiny’s pookie!”

Giggles and satisfied chatter follow his comment as he moves on, and you're still pushing, down, down, down the feelings that have bubbled up since the conversation with the security guard. The one time you actually notice Hongjoong observing you, he asks under his breath, “Are you doing alright?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you respond quickly, trying to redirect his focus to the fans. You wanted this done. And every time you saw some girl– sweet, adoring, just wanting to meet their bias– talking to him like they've known him for years, it twists something in your gut that you've tried to push past. A jealousy you know you have no right to, no reason for. But it exists, and in your tired, tightly-wound state, it grows and threatens to make you burst. 

Hongjoong could feel the tension coming off of you, less friendly and engaged with fans than normal, and though he didn't know why you were feeling that way, it caused him to be less himself. He was a little short with the fans, not out of frustration, but out of a need to get somewhere away from all this and get to the bottom of it as soon as possible. 

As the door closed behind you, Hongjoong's hand is around yours immediately, warm and gripping firmly.

“Let's get us some food, yeah?” he says, something in his eyes you can't quite understand. “I'm thinking somewhere quiet.”

You sigh, forcing a smile. “Home?”

He chuckles. “That can be a pretty quiet place when we want it to be,” he nods, “We can pick something up.”

At your shared home, you open the takeout boxes as Hongjoong goes to change clothes. The smell of the food combined with the comfort of the couch grounds you a little, bringing most of your thoughts out of orbit. You eat, deciding that maybe you've made a bigger deal out of things than you needed to. 

And then Hongjoong sits across from you at the coffee table, legs criss-crossed and his hands resting on his knees. There's a look on his face, smiling but determined, preparing for something. 

“What?” you ask through a mouthful of food after he stares at you for a moment. 

“Jagiya–”

You raise your eyebrows.

“–What happened today?” His words are hesitant but forthright. 

You shake your head like you have no idea what he could be talking about, and reach for your drink. “Nothing happened. I mean, we had the concert?”

Hongjoong's eyes narrow a little, forcing a sad smile. He knows you too well, knows what your white lies sound like. 

“Yes, we did have the concert, and rehearsal before that, but you've seemed off since the show ended.”

You feel your stomach start to twist at the memory you'd been trying to let go of all night. Telling him might help you with that, yes, but telling him could also open up conversations you really don't feel like having. 

“I'm fine,” you say, chewing solemnly and staring at your food. 

Hongjoong sighs, and half-groans, half-laughs your name. “I know something's wrong.” He stands to come sit next to you on the couch, sitting as close to you as he can. “I can feel it coming off you, baby. What are you upset about?” 

You don't say anything, unsure of where to even start, and you desperately fight tears that threaten behind your eyes. 

“Is it something I did?” he asks quietly. 

And that's what breaks you: the idea that he'd think he was anything but perfect, that he could unknowingly cause you pain. Sure, he had his off moments, but he was human. 

The sniff betrays your subtlety as you sit up, and Hongjoong brushes your hair aside to see your face. “Oh, no no no!” he quickly pulls you into his arms as your crying becomes audible, sniffing and sharp inhales coming out as you bury your face in his neck. 

“Darling, please talk to me,”  Hongjoong says in a soft voice, running his hand down the back of your head soothingly. “I want to help.”

After a minute or two, you've calmed down somewhat, breathing less heavily and eyes less watery. 

“It was a long night,” you admit. “I think I've been so drained lately.”

Hongjoong nods, relieved that you're finally letting him in on what's going on in your head. “You've worked really hard lately!” He rubs circles on your back as you continue. 

“Yeah, and then this security guy, he started talking to me during the performance, and he got in my head a little–”

“Which security guy? One of ours or the venue's?” 

“Ours. I don't know his name, though.”

“That's okay. What did he say to you?” 

You hesitate, unsure of how Hongjoong will react. Maybe he'll just brush it off. Maybe he'll kill the guy. You had no idea, but you weren't about to lie to him regardless, not when he's looking at you so empathetically, his eyes so soft and concerned.

You tell him what the security guard said–and implied– with some tears returning, though it was mostly anger in your voice now. 

“It was so stupid, but he just really fucked with my head,” you chuckle dryly, wiping tears away with your sleeve. “Just made me a little uncomfortable.”

Hongjoong gently holds your chin, moving your face to make eye contact with him. His eyes are so sympathetic, you might start crying again. 

“I'm so sorry, jagi,” he says sincerely, holding your face and peppering it with light kisses. “You don't deserve that bullshit.” 

He pulls away to look at you, his expression shaping into something determined and his eyes practically manic. “I'm going to kill him.”

“Hongjoong!”

He laughs bitterly, ”What? I'm pissed!” He stands up, anger filling him so much he feels his hands shaking. “No one treats my girl like that. No one treats my assistant like that!” He throws up his hands and starts pacing. “It's not only disgusting, it's goddamn unprofessional.”

Stunned at his reaction, you stare at him. “It was just words, Joong,” you mutter, “Sticks and stones, you know–”

“No!” He points, and when you make a face, he realizes his anger needs to be redirected. More calmly, he says, “No, it's not just that. He asked you invasive personal questions, he implied that we have an unethical relationship, and he harassed you.” 

You blink. He isn’t necessarily wrong, but, “It really wasn't that bad–”

He goes to sit down next to you again, and takes your hand, clasping it in both of his. “I'm glad you think it wasn't that bad. But I'd be mad if you were just my assistant and someone did this. It's still wrong. But the fact that you're my partner and he did this makes me want to murder him, baby!” The last part comes out in a cynical laugh, like he's physically restraining himself from storming out the door to hunt down the security guard. 

You put your other hand over his. “I'm okay. Trust me.” 

He sighs. “Are you sure?” 

You nod. “Yes. Can we just…can we just have a nice night now? That would really help me forget all this.”

“Yeah, anything you want,” he nods fervently, pulling you to his side and resting his head atop yours. “But that shithead is getting fired tomorrow, if I have anything to say about it.”

You consider this for a moment, and with a small smirk, you reply, “Do what you need to do, Joong. Just don't kill him.” 

Hongjoong scoffs. “No promises.”

The rest of the night you spend cuddled together, and as usual, it's healing in some way. Having him right next to you, his arm warm around you and his heartbeat under your ear as you lay on his chest, watching a show you've been binging together for a while– it's all you’ll ever need. 

But that little nagging thought persists in your mind.

“Joongie?” you ask softly. 

“Yes, baby.”

“There was something else that really bothered me about today.” 

He looks down at you as you pull away to look at him. His brow furrows, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. 

You sit up, taking his hand in both of yours for comfort, taking a deep breath. 

“What…what happens if people find out about us?”

Hongjoong's hand clasps one of yours firmly. He breathes out a quiet chuckle. “What do you mean, baby? We're not really hiding anything, not actively. People already know.”

“Just the people close to us. The members, the managers, maybe a few others. What happens when people start…speculating?”

Hongjoong reaches his other hand up to run a hand down your cheek, then your shoulder. “I'm still not sure what you mean,” he crinkles his eyes sympathetically. “What do you think will happen?” 

You bite your lip, considering for a moment. “Well, for one, the fans will go batshit. They'll hate me.”

“I'm sorry if you don't realize this already, but some might already hate you for just being near any of us,” Hongjoong grimaces. “But there are so many more who would support us, love us together.”

You shrug. “I guess that's true, but I don't know…I'm afraid of getting death threats.”

“There's not a snowflake's chance in hell that I'd let anyone get even close to doing that.”

“It's not really something you can stop–”

“But it's something I can protect you from,” Hongjoong says fervently, his hold on your hands tightening just enough for him to realize what he's doing, and quickly lets go before hurting you. He pulls up one of your hands to his lips and kisses it, eyes closing. “I'd kill for you, jagi, I think I already made that clear earlier.”

Somehow, it was enough for you, to hear him say that and see the determination in his eyes. You know deep down that he'd really burn the world down to keep you safe, even just to keep you happy. You let yourself smile a little, then remember the other feeling gnawing at you. 

“It's also…ah, how do I say this–” 

“Just tell me, my love,” he practically commands you, but you know it's only out of deep care for you. He wants you to speak freely. 

“Our…dynamic…it's something else people would…talk about.”

Hongjoong looks confused. 

You sigh. “You're my boss. You're older than me. People are going to say you manipulated me, or seduced me, or some shit, or they'll say I slept with you to get a job–” 

Hongjoong's shaking his head rapidly, trying to stop your flood of worries, and puts his palms on the sides of your face. “Oh, baby, no. No!” he laughs, and you're taken aback. “No one will think that. At least, not most people.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“Well, I don't know entirely, but what I do know is that you're a fucking amazing assistant. I couldn't do anything, literally anything without you at my side. Anyone can see that,” he grins. “In fact, a few of the members have asked me where the hell I found you. They see how good you are at your job.”

“I'm not sure how that matters…?”

“It matters because if people are going to be nosy about our relationship, down the line, then they're also going to see that our work relationship is a completely unique and incredibly efficient thing that's separate from our personal relationship. You do so well at your job for the sake of doing well at your job, not because of me. That's just my little bonus,” he winks. “And I didn't hire you because I wanted to…ah…you know,” he says, and instinctively snakes his hands around your waist. “I hired you because you seemed like you'd get the job done, like you could become someone I trusted. Again, just a bonus that we ended up together, and a miracle that we blend both relationships together so well.” 

As he speaks, your features soften from worry into awe. You've never thought about how you would describe your relationship before, but he did so perfectly. He was right– your relationship held two distinct dynamics in one, and while the line between the two was often blurred, it still existed, and it rarely affected the quality of your work nor the harmony of your connection. 

It was good. That's how you would describe it. Simple. Something so good. 

You stare into his eyes for a few moments, the gratitude of everything he is to you washing over you, and he seems to mistake the look in your eyes for something negative, because he breaks your gaze and gingerly takes your hand into his. “Jagiya,” he says softly, looking down. “If this is too much for you, or if you think it will be too much for you–”

Your heart drops at what he's about to imply and you snap out of your trance, quick to reassure him. “No, Joong, no!” you laugh, and you hold his hand up to your lips to kiss the back of his palm, something you know can make him blush and soothe him at just the right times. “There's nothing that could make me want to give this up. It's worth way more than any circumstances that come with it.”

Hongjoong smiles, relief blooming in his expression. He leans in to kiss you, and your hands instinctively going up to the back of his neck. The kiss grows deeper, and soon he has you leaning back against a pillow, his lips grazing over the skin of your neck, just beneath your jaw. 

“God, what would I fucking do without you,” he mutters, his voice sending a shiver up your spine and warmth through your entire body. “You're everything.” 

° ° ° 

The next day, the boys have a practice later in the day, so you and Hongjoong have brunch together, then make your way to the KQ building. 

Hongjoong leaves you to hang out with some of the guys, before practice starts, planting a light kiss on your temple and mumbling, “Gotta take care of a few things. Be right back.”

It’s only a couple of minutes later that you connect the dots, your heart dropping to your stomach. You go to look for Hongjoong, frantically stopping at every door that’s not someone’s office to check for him. You pray that your boyfriend isn’t committing a crime. 

You hesitate outside of a recording studio, the one Hongjoong uses most, practically lives in. Yunho is sitting on a bench outside the door, earbuds in and scrolling on his phone. The sign on the door is switched to [IN USE--DO NOT DISTURB]. 

Yunho sees you and takes out an earbud. Before he can finish his sentence of greeting, you interrupt. “Have you seen Hongjoong?”

Yunho tilts his head toward the door. “In there. I was about to do some recordings but he came in with someone and asked to just have the room for five minutes.” 

Your face falls. “Who went in with him?”

“I'm not sure, some staff guy?” 

“Oh, God,” you mumble and plop down onto the seat next to him. 

“What?”

You hesitate, but your nerves are so intense that you need to talk to someone about it. “Joong is…getting someone in trouble.”

“Huh?”

“This guy last night, he kinda rubbed me the wrong way, Hongjoong was mad, and--” Suddenly the door opens and sure enough, the security guard from the night before emerges, looking disgruntled, and judging by his tightened lips and his eagerness to leave, slightly nervous. 

Something in you was deeply satisfied that it was your boyfriend that made him that way.

The man passes without a word, glancing quickly at you and Yunho and pretending not to see you as he walks swiftly down the hall. 

Seconds after, Hongjoong comes through the door looking serious but content. He begins to say something to Yunho but then sees you and grimaces. “Ahh. Hi…jagi.”

You cross your arms, staring at him expectantly. 

The two of you stay like that for a few seconds, Yunho swerving his head to look at both of you, then decides, “This seems like… none of my business.” He mutters as he gets up, “I’ll do the recordings later, I guess.”

“Joong,” you finally speak as he sits down.

“Yes, my love.” 

“Tell me you didn’t just make an enemy of a guy who keeps you safe.”

Hongjoong sighs and sits closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Doesn’t matter if he’s not keeping the most important person to me safe.” 

“Hongjoong.” 

“Agh, it’s fine!” He groans, but tries to console you with a smile as he brings his hand to your waist. “All I did was very calmly tell him to stay away from you and mind his own business. I even said it professionally. Even if I wanted to kick his ass.” 

You sigh and put your hand over his, pulling him more tightly around you. “You didn’t fuck anything up?”

“Just his ego,” he grins. “Can’t be fun being told off by a man both smaller and younger than you.” 

You nod in agreement. “I’m sure Seonghwa knows the feeling.” 

Hongjoong scoffs. “Usually it’s him scolding me, I’ll have you know.” 

You laugh and give him a small kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for caring so much about this, Joongie.” 

“Anything to protect my girl,” he says sincerely, quietly. He pulls you into his lap, and you see the flash of an idea cross his mind.

“What?” you chuckle, arms around his neck. 

“I’ve got, what, thirty minutes until practice? And no one’s in the recording studio.”

You look up at the door, then back at him. “And?”

He gives you a look you’ve seen many times before. A small smile and mischievous, narrowed eyes. Usually accompanied by a hand on your thigh. He never seems to have to ask…you always know by that look. 

“How unprofessional of us,” you say, practically jumping off of him, grinning. “Let’s go.”

The two of you hurry into the room, and Hongjoong locks the door behind him.

+ + +

©máirewrites on tumblr. ©oncomingstorm13 on ao3. please do not repost without permission. this is a work of fiction intended for entertainment and does not represent the personalities, morals, or ways of life of any real people mentioned.

"Are you sure, honey? We can always figure something else out, a single phone call with manager Noh-nim...“ Seonghwa asked softly, his warm hand caressing the soft spot just above your collarbone. You didn't let yourself dwell too much on the fact that that's where the pack mark goes, your cheeks heating up. You and the pack had a lot to go still before that would happen, you huffed to yourself.

Nodding, you avoided the older alpha's gaze, shuffling at your feet. Your gaze wandered away from his concerned eyes, looking around almost in a haze – so many noises you had to think so hard about to even place, the closeness of all too many staff members that brisked around in fleeting steps, and the scents – the scents –

„Honey?”

The rapper's voice was quick to guide you back to where your mind belonged. His nimble fingers gently brushed through your hair at the very end of your neck, having you whine almost inaudibly – but nothing could escape the alpha, it seemed. Pursuing his lips, Seonghwa was quick to school his brows back to their neutral state from where they were scrunched up just a second ago.

"...come here, let me hold you for a minute, love..."

Pulling you close, you melted into his embrace, breathing in his scent – soft but somehow distinctively dominant, perfect in every sense. His arms wrapped tightly around you, guiding your nose to the crook of his neck, right to his scent gland. As you breathed in deep, a soft rumble from the bottom of his chest rewarded you in approval. Only lightly could you smell him, the scent blockers working unfortunately too well. Carefully and gently, he ran his chin over the crown of your head and your temples, sighing out in content.

„...There, all better,” he chuckled softly, running his hands over your back.

"It's okay, oppa; it's only for a little while."

"Only a little while, that's right, my love... We will be back before you know it.” You nodded solemnly, letting his tender hands manoeuvre you to the dark couch in the room. The alpha couldn't help but coo at you softly.

You were so tired, having been exhausted from all the stress piling up at you all at once – school, the holidays, and now the media and sasaengs stress, all new for you – he wished he could just take it all away, break you out of this spell of anxiety, but all their attempts were futile, it seemed.

You allowed the older to help you settle down, cosying you between the haphazardly thrown jackets and jumpers – their jackets and jumpers – softly humming a tune for you. Your fingers tightened around his as he crouched down just before the couch, looking at you fondly.

And with as much courage as you could muster, you looked up, curled up in the messiest nest imaginable. It was barely anything, but this was far from the ideal situation to begin with.

It was just about the start of December.

Your school was loading you with projects and assignments, and they themselves were drowning in promo shoots, competitions, dance recitals and now, newly, you.

The soft, sweet omega seemed to have dropped straight out of heaven, Seonghwa thought, as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Are you sure you want to eat later, honey? There's plenty of food here, and anything you want, alphas can get you. Just say the word and—”

"Seonghwa-ssi! Two minutes!”

But the alpha didn't even glance back; the only reaction he showed was the way his palm tightened around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles tenderly.

“You are going now, oppa...?” You mumbled sleepily, staring up at him with big glossy eyes. He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes for a second.

"Soon, honey, but I'll be back before you know it, remember? Remember what Joongie oppa told you, love?” He encouraged you gently, his other hand adjusting the hoodie you wore around your neck, pulling the hood up. He couldn't help it, not after he noticed the slight chill in the room. And his stage outfit was relatively warm too, the elaborately detailed white jacket going well with the black slacks.

He could only imagine how you were feeling, your body naturally just a degree or two colder than the alpha's healthy range. And the hoodie, Yunho's, he could tell by the smell, was ordinary, not one of those nice ones lined with fleece so soft and cosy it would always keep you warm.

He sighed out as he noticed your little socks peeking just under your jeans. He asked you if you wanted to change into something comfy – it was just after your school hours when you got here. You looked tired as ever when he finally saw you in the sea of staff by one of the back entrances. The alphas arranged for you to be picked up by one of their managers and dropped off at the venue as soon as your school ended – you agreed after their gentle persuasion that they would prefer you to be close rather than home all on your own.

The other night when you discussed this with the pack, they didn't let you know what truly worried them, the alphas only exchanging subtle glances as you cuddled up with them in the living room, closely held by Yeosang on his lap with your legs draped over Jongho.

"We would feel a lot better if you stayed with us, baby. It gets dark early, and you're at school till late... Alphas get worried for their 'mega, baby,” the pack alpha had said, looking at you with a soft frown.

„But I can just get a subway home, it's okay, oppa... I don't want to bother manager Lee-nim...” You mumbled quietly, your voice growing shyer and shyer with each passing word, having Yeosang lean closer and press a warm kiss to your temple. Your fingers tightened on the sleeve of his hoodie as a few of the pack members growled at your last sentence in disapproval.

"Nonsense, cub, you don't bother anyone. She offered to pick you up when we mentioned it, and even if she didn't, she would never ever be bothered by you.” San said, his voice strong as the alpha sat up, his shoulders wide and square in disapproval. You quickly hid your gaze, suddenly finding the few rings you wore very interesting.

"Sweetheart, you know Manager Lee-nim; she is the one who let you borrow the makeup, remember? You played with it and did Woo's makeup, hm? Or would you like to go with a different staff member, cutie?” Yunho chimed in, leaning forward on his knees, his tender gaze meeting yours as he giggled at the memory.

„Yah, hyung, I looked gorgeous, and my pretty girl did a great job! You're just jealous!” The younger smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief as he bumped Yunho's shoulder. The older just laughed, looking down, his cheeks turning pink.

”And is manager-nim really okay with it? Because I—”

“It's more than okay, honey,” the older alpha answered, his gaze steady with no room for argument. Slowly, you nodded your head a little, whispering a soft 'okay oppa', leaning your head on Yeosang's chest, content with listening to his heart for the moment.

"Alright, baby, then alphas will arrange for the pickup, and you come to the venue after lessons... One of us will come get you by the staff entrance so you aren't on your own, hm? You can rest in the backstage, and we will come get you as soon as we can. That sounds good?” You mumbled a 'yea' to Hongjoong's proposal, making the alpha smile.

“Thank you, baby.”

You couldn't tell then and there what really caused the pack members to ask for you to go. After all, you have been spending time with them nearly all the time – in the morning, one of them always saw you off, no matter how hectic their schedule was, scenting you profusely and kissing your forehead just outside your university, and you were almost always picked up by one of them too, as your lessons ended late. And you barely ever stayed in your dorm, sleeping over by theirs more often than not.

Sure, it's been a few months, but things have been going good, great even – you fit right in with them. Of course you did – you were their mate. An omega mated to eight alphas. You couldn't be taken care of better.

Seonghwa sighed out – the alphas asked for you to pack something comfortable for tonight, as god knows how long the award show will take, but you wouldn't give in, no matter what they tried.

They spent the whole evening last night with you in the living room, going through the clothes you have acquired with you over the few weeks of staying in their place, trying their best to convince you that 'no, sweet baby, it's really not a big deal if you wear a tank top and your neck will be visible to the staff, your scent is beautiful and no-one could ever be bothered by it,' and that 'yes, my love, it really is okay to wear sweatpants around the staff, even if there are cameras'.

But all to no avail.

You weren't officially announced as their mate – the thought of you being picked apart by the nasty sasaengs and all other kinds of media made Seonghwa's jaw clench painfully. You were the sweetest thing ever, so polite and kind, saying your "thank yous" and "please" all the time, hard-working as ever and just an all-around such a good girl. But the netizens would never care.

And so, you were shy as ever in front of the cameras that recorded them backstage, even if you were always meticulously censored and protected at all costs so that hopefully no one would catch on before you were all ready, before you were ready.

What would happen if the cameras somehow caught you in cosy pjs, mismatched warm socks, and your messy hair? you fretted.

And as Mingi tried to comfort you that it would not happen, you whimpered, their hearts breaking into a thousand pieces. Seonghwa pulled you to his chest then and there, tucking your face to his scent gland as his calming scent wafted around strongly.

As he measured the other alphas with a glare, he said with finality, "I think that's enough for tonight, guys."

And now, he frowned at how uncomfortable you must be, in your school clothes still, too scared to be truly comfortable in public just yet. But he knew you would get there some day, and all would be well soon.

„Seonghwa-ssi, one minute!” At the faraway yell of the staff member, he gently leaned closer, leaving a small peck just above your nose.

„Darling, Alpha has to go now, okay? Just nap for a bit, and we will be back before you know it. Keep the badge on, honey; don't take it off, please.”

You didn't even respond to him, your eyes fluttering shut before you knew it, cuddled up on the couch between the mess of clothes they placed down for you before. The alpha adjusted the badge spelling 'VIP - ATEEZ' on your neck, noting the bracelet saying the same.

The room was much quieter now, as most of the makeup artists left for a different area of the venue to eat and rest until later. Seonghwa smiled at you fondly before turning away, taking the glittery microphone from the staff, and adjusting his earpiece as he took hurried steps towards the stage.

As he approached, he lined up by his pack members, who looked at him with concerned eyes after noticing your smell wrapped around him. „Is Y/N okay?” Hongjoong asked, the other alphas listening in closely. It was already a big hustle anyway to have one of them leave just before going onto stage to get you, but they made it work.

Seonghwa nodded, saying, “Yeah, she’s asleep.” Their shoulders dropped simultaneously, it seemed. It was scary for them too – they were used to bringing you around the company, but this was the first time you attended an award show with them – practically a concert – and that was different.

As their earpieces sounded in unison, they said a few words of encouragement before going onto the stage, the loud cheers of the fans nearly drowning them. And so, just like that, the night went on, having them perform a variety of their songs in front of the packed stadium.

All went well, with the alphas doing well in hiding any kind of worry behind their strong stage appearance – worry for you. After the last song and the polite thanking of everyone, the members were quick to hurry back to their designated seats – they couldn't find you just yet, even if they wanted nothing more.

The scandal that would ensue should they get up during the performance of any other group would be huge. So, the alphas just bounced their knees nervously, their scents agitated.

Who wouldn't understand? After all, there were very few omegas in general and even fewer in the venue, and you were left on your own, barely scented with no pack mark. Of course, the pack was more than worried.

'But the show must go on', Yeosang thought to himself, his hands in tight fists. They barely could pay attention to any of the other performances, no matter how great they were. All they could think about was their sweet mate.

You, on the other hand, have been resting peacefully – until you weren't.

Seonghwa was careful enough to release his calming scent just before he left, leaving you in a comforting bubble. You lay still, curled up tight, with your arms wrapped around Jongho's hoodie, based on the smell.

No one else was in the dressing room apart from you when you were woken up by discomfort. Something wet and sticky was running down your face, and as your bleary eyes opened, you wiped your cheek on the sleeve of one of the jackets, only to whimper in surprise when you saw the deep dark red stain left behind.

Sitting up dizzily, you coughed a little when you tried to breathe in through your nose, blood splattering just past your puffy lips. Whimpering again, you clumsily wiped at your nose and lips, your fingers tainted red.

Confused and scared, you could barely think straight, worried about what might have just happened to cause you to bleed so profusely from your nose. Your vision still hazy from the disturbed nap, you whined loudly, calling out a soft “Oppa?” seeking the alphas, which were usually never far from reach.

But no one answered.

Clumsily you sat up, coughing and swallowing the blood that started to trickle down your throat. No matter how much you wiped at your face, the blood kept coming, tainting your hoodie and the floor with more and more drops. Standing up, you closed your eyes at the dizzy spell that overtook you, biting your lip.

You knew you had to get someone to help, tears welling up in your eyes when you saw your reflection in one of the pretty mirrors by the side of the dressing room where an array of makeup tools still lay. The pack alpha always told you to look for someone for help when your mind gets fuzzy and it's hard to think about what's right to do next, to find them, or one of the staff members if you couldn't help yourself.

Hongjoong always said that.

And so, in that tired and confused state, blood trailing down your face, the metallic taste in your mouth making you gag and whine, you clumsily opened the door to the dressing room.

Whimpering even louder at all the options, you only saw what felt like hundreds of closed doors, each having a small label describing to which music group the area was designated. No one seemed to be wandering the halls just because, and all the staff you knew had disappeared.

You didn't know that many idols yet – your mates were very careful and selective with whom got to know you, keeping your utmost safety on their mind at all costs.

And so, as your vision swam, your fingers shaking as you leaned on the door, you were too anxious to open the door that stood just before you, the label spelling out 'STRAY KIDS'. But to your surprise, before you could will your confused and tired mind to think even for a little bit longer, the door opened on its own.

And out came a young man, looking no older than you and your mates were, his eyes widening almost comically in shock at your state.

"Oh – are you okay? What—”

The alpha gasped, taking a tentative step closer, his hands outstretched towards you. You sniffled, a soft whimper leaving you, as you looked towards where the stage and the main event were located, praying that for whatever reason one of your mates would come walking to you – but it never happened.

„Hey, you should sit down—” The idol fretted, his eyes wide in worry as more and more blood came gushing from your nose.

„C-Can you take me to my m-mates please...?” You whimpered, glossy eyes staring up at him in a haze.

He didn't say anything for a little moment, before it seemed to click for him, noticing you were by the 'ATEEZ' dressing rooms.

„What's your name?” He asked gently, moving to hold the door open for you as he gently ushered you back into the room.

„Y/S Y/-N...” you whispered softly, whimpering as you saw the blood drops leading a trail towards the couch, to whom the alpha took you again, careful not to touch you.

You were an omega after all, that much being obvious the moment he noted your scent – soft and sweet. And he was an alpha, and leaving his scent on you, even accidentally, would lead to a lot more trouble. He was also an idol. And you were mated, the subtle scent on you mixing with yours loud and clear. Even more trouble.

"I'm Han Jisung. Who's your pack alpha? Is it someone from the staff?” The alpha said as gently as possible, trying his best to not let his nerves show. There was a lot of blood, and as he handed you a box of tissues, it barely seemed to help at all.

You sat down on the couch again, whimpering softly at the fading scents of your mates. Choking a little on the blood trickling down your throat, Jisung sucked in a breath sharply.

„Put your face down. Y/N-ssi...there, good...what's the name of your alpha?”

„...Kim H-Hongjoong...” The alpha perked up at the familiar name.

„Hongjoong hyung? From ATEEZ?” You nodded shakily, your fingers wrapping tight on the jacket that you were sitting by. Jisung said something else, but you could barely hear him over your heart booming in your ears quickly, your vision swimming as you ducked your chin lower, the blood rushing from your nose dripping all over your jeans.

You closed your eyes, feeling nauseous at all the red liquid coating your hands, your clothes, all over your chin, nose and lips, the jumpers of your mates. You whimpered at the thought, not liking that the clothes were being ruined.

Just how upset would your mates be when they learnt you completely messed up the clothes they so kindly prepared for you tonight?

No help seemed to be any of the tissues you held up to your gushing nose, soaked up nearly immediately. This was really scary, you decided, fluttering your eyes open just a sliver to look for Jisung, only to find him gone.

When did he leave?

You didn't even hear the doors shut, disoriented and tired. Sniffling only to cough up more blood, you curled up into yourself tighter, closing your eyes once again.

You felt funny, like you were floating, your heart beating in your ears in an almost overwhelming way. Louder and louder, going thump-thump-thump.

You gasped and whimpered in shock when you felt the touch on your face. You slowly fluttered your eyes open, your vision swimming for a little moment, only to come face to face with San.

His brows were furrowed, his eyes frantic, and his lips were moving, but you somehow couldn't hear anything he was saying; the world around you underwater.

The alpha was kneeling down before you, his black jacket crinkled, his hair slicked back for the award show performance. And, by his hands, you noticed a small red smear – and all came back to you, the imaginative lid placed over the world lifting.

"...to face down, baby, please." Finally his voice reached you, the alpha speaking quickly with the kind of worry lacing his words that you had never heard coming from him quite like this before. You blinked the haze away, whimpering loudly, your own bloody hand reaching for him, finding its purchase on his forearm.

"Oppa..." San took your hand in his in an instant, not flinching at the sticky warmth now on his own fingers.

"I'm here, cub. I'm right here. Now face down, baby; it will help." The older man said quickly, and only then did you really notice the pressure his other hand was gently applying on the back of your neck, allowing him to angle your face down.

„There you go, good girl...” He encouraged you softly, his anxious scent clouding all the area around you. Slipping his hand from yours, he took a few tissues, carefully holding them to your bleeding nose.

“Alpha is here, cub; it's okay now.” San said reassuringly, clenching his jaw in worry as he noticed just how much you were bleeding. And god knew for how long too; his chest tightened even further at that thought.

Did you fall and hit yourself by accident?

Is your nose broken?

Should he take you to the hospital?

His own mind was running haywire. Just then did the door swing open, and in came running Mingi. The alpha took a few long steps over to both of you by the couch, hastily kneeling down like San did just a few moments ago.

"Hyung, they didn't have any ice, but I got some water from the fridge, and I asked for medicals, but the beta is busy now, and we can't have the alphas touch her—"

"I know Mingi, I know, goddamnit—" San breathed out, counting to five mentally, trying to calm himself down.

There was a medical team, but for some reason there was only one beta among them, as no idols were omegas. You whined at the sudden coldness on the back of your neck, your eyes snapping to face the younger alpha, who only smiled at you in reassurance.

“Sorry princess, but it will help, cutie; Alpha promises.”

“What happened, baby?” The older one asked tenderly, his fingers delicately squeezing just above your nostrils.

”...I do—don't know...” You mumbled shakily, whining, having Mingi gently kiss your temple. "It's okay, princess, it will stop soon. Just a nosebleed.”

The alpha paid no mind to the fact that his stage outfit was white and his pants and coat were stained with blood as he carefully wiped away at your chin and lips with a tissue. San frowned further as the bleeding kept on going, his thumb running over your knuckles – to calm you or him, you didn't know. He clicked his tongue softly, taking more napkins.

"Fuck..." He mumbled, Mingi leaning closer at his loud concern. „...it's not letting up.” The younger alpha pursed his lips at that, his long fingers running through your hair, his scent wrapping around the strands.

"Did you fall, princess? Does anything hurt?” You shook your head a little, your teary eyes finding his, making the alpha sigh out and give your forehead a long kiss.

"I woke up like this..."

“Okay, baby, just hold on a moment; you're our strong girl, hm?”

“Come here, princess...” Mingi mumbled quietly, carefully pulling you onto his lap to lean against his chest, holding the cool bottle to the back of your neck. Just then you accidentally breathed in through your nose, the iron taste coating your tongue as you coughed, swallowing the nasty-tasting liquid.

"No, no, baby, you have to spit it all out; you can't swallow it, my cub, here..." San fretted, alarms sounding off in his head. If you swallowed too much blood, you were bound to throw up, and that would most definitely help.

Cupping a hand under your lips, he gently said, “Spit it out, cub.” Listening to the alpha, you willed yourself to let the spit and blood coating your mouth drip onto his palm. Your mate didn't say a thing, just tutting softly when you coughed a little again, wiping the mess into a different tissue.

„Good girl,”

The younger praised, pecking your temple as his palms rubbed your waist in reassuring circles. It took a good few minutes before the blood slowed down even a little, the alphas exchanging worried glances that slowly eased up as time went on.

Very carefully San wiped at your lips and nose, catching the blood as much as possible. “See, already better, baby girl.” He whispered, smiling at you reassuringly. Just then did the door open again, your eyes opening tiredly again to see a staff member.

“San-ssi, Mingi-ssi, you're to receive an award now; please come to the main stage immediately.” The older man left no room for argument, barely glancing at the bloody napkins everywhere.

„A minute please!” San called, not even turning back as he continued to caress your cheek and hold your nose to stop the bleeding.

„Please come immediately; your bandmates are waiting on stage.” You felt Mingi's hands tighten around you, his scent spiking up in annoyance. Your mates weren't dumb – they too saw Jisung hastily rush to them to tell them about what was happening. And the only reason why all of them weren't here at the same time was simply because of the possibility of a huge scandal, since a girl group was just performing.

And so, Mingi and San, who sat closest to the backstage entrance, were those who went – carefully weaving in between the other groups and idols, politely bowing to everyone.

But fear not – as soon as they slid through the doors to the backstage, they sprinted through the maze of corridors, taking the quickest route to their designated area. When they finally made it, their chests heaving, it was first your distressed scent that greeted them, pooling around the entire area. And once inside the room, San could only gasp at the blood surrounding your fragile, curled-up body. It was all over your face, dripping from your chin onto your legs as you clumsily tried your best to wipe it away, only to make a bigger mess.

„Baby? Oh my god...”

The older of the two rushed to you, dropping to his knees by your form, Mingi only a step or two behind him, his own shaking hands finding your shoulder in a comforting touch. But you didn't even look at them, your eyes closed shut as you whimpered softly, your breathing raspy and shaky.

„Hey, hey, princess, come now, what happened? Where does it hurt?” No response greeted the younger alpha, his eyes widening in worry as San pulled out many tissues and gently started to dab at your face, catching as much blood as possible.

“Fuck, that's a lot, hyung...” He said quietly, carefully cleaning around your chin himself. The older alpha didn't spare him a glance, only growling a little in distress. They expected bad, but not this bad.

„Get some ice; we have to put it on her neck Mingi-ah, and look for the medical team; there should be a beta.”

„Okay, yeah.” Your mate answered hastily, dropping a quick peck on your temple, leaving you with San. The older one kept on talking to you kindly, asking you questions, but you didn't seem to hear him, though your whimpers let up after his calming scent seemed to reach you.

The others knew something bad was going on; that much was obvious. The alphas felt their chests tighten at the drama this would cause – them missing while receiving an award, streamed live. This was bad.

"Baby, cub, listen, okay? Can you do that for me?”

The wide-shouldered man asked tenderly, trying his best to hide the urgency in his voice. You looked up at him, with the most vulnerable eyes he has ever seen on you, having him clench his jaw even tighter. His mates would understand – but the media would never, he reminded himself.

"We have to go now, baby, but we will come back really soon, okay? Before you count to a hundred, I promise. Stay right here and keep holding your nose like this – ...there you go, good girl...” The alpha's heart was breaking at your confused eyes, your shaking hands holding a few tissues by yourself now.

Carefully, Mingi placed you on the couch, rubbing your back, his own eyes concerned and worried. This was far from an ideal situation.

"Hold on just a bit more, princess. It will be okay.” And so with him giving you the cool bottle to hold on your own, ignoring his instinct to have him do it himself, he too got up. It felt wrong – no, even worse – to leave you behind like this, shaking and scared of all the blood. But they did what they had to, following the staff member with quick steps to the main stage where the lights shone bright as ever on the rest of their bandmates, waiting anxiously.

As soon as San and Mingi climbed the few steps, the crowd roared with cheers and clapping, but the world seemed separate from everything else but their mates, whose eyes didn't hide their upmost worry.

And, as Hongjoong spoke with a schooled expression and clever language, thanking everyone profusely, San could only exchange a few glances with the others, mouthing subtly to Seonghwa: 'it's bad'. The older alpha breathed in sharply at that before he too calmed his expression to a soft smile for the cameras.

It almost dragged on forever, it seemed, and they could not think about anything else – not the award, their fans, or the media – but you. Finally, as the last applause sounded around, they bowed low and started to make their way off of the stage.

With that, the award was completely forgotten, all of them rushing to the backstage.

„What do you mean 'bad'?! What happened? Is she okay?” Seonghwa rushed out, agitated worry clouding his mind.

„I don't know; she was bleeding from her nose when we came there, and there was so much blood—”

“And it wasn't stopping, hyung, and the only free workers from the medical team are all alphas!” The two men rushed out. A low curse rang out from the group as their steps hastened. As the room came closer and closer, they noticed the door was open – something they most definitely didn't do.

Rushing in, Yunho sucked in a breath, noticing you weren't alone – but he calmed down just as quickly. Sitting in the middle of the couch was you, looking tired and scared, with your eyes glossy and scent distressed, in his hoodie, stained and dirtied now.

And sitting next to you, far enough not to impose, was their main makeup artist – manager Lee. The older beta was saying something to you kindly as she ran a small washcloth over your face, having you nod a little in response. The bleeding has mainly stopped now, it seemed, much to their relief, even if your surroundings were still flooded by bloody tissues.

„Love?” Hongjoong called, his hurried footsteps stopping only once he was very close to you, his hands laying down on your knees as he crouched before you.

With a shaking hand you wiped away the stray tears, whining at all of their attention – Yunho now sat tentatively close to you, running your stray hairs behind your ear, and Jongho sat on your other side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

"'m sorry, oppa..." You whispered, feeling bad for all the trouble they must have gone through. The kind makeup artist stood up, waving off Yeosang and Seonghwa, who were quick to bow deeply as they thanked her profusely for staying with their mate.

"No apologising, baby. Alpha just needs to know you're okay,” the pack alpha said, leaving no room for argument.

The entire night you were fretted over – and they never returned to the music show after, ignoring their managers who advised them to go back to sit by the audience.

Closely held in Wooyoung's lap, you let Jongho cut up the fried chicken into small pieces, and as you ate, you occasionally placed some between Wooyoung's waiting lips, receiving a gentle peck in return. The alphas didn't let you out of their sight that night – or the day after, being worried about the blood loss, scared you might pass out and hurt yourself.

And, as you went to sleep that night, wearing Hongjoong's shirt, you allowed Seonghwa to hold you tight, his scent all around as he left kiss after kiss on your temple.

"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?

jongho: [1 photo attachment]

jongho: our omega says hurry up

mingi: !!!!!!!

yunho: running

wooyoung: i might cry again

----------------------------------------

Taglist:

@lizal1cious @pineapple-burgah @karlee10261990 @galaxygurlll @landsharkfandomtrash @myen2rude @morgangrice18 @dina-10s-blog @ninamarie1994 @hanadulsetaad @dinkiplier @kpopishgirlie @bbokarismeow @little-mix-fan-forever @xxitsalliebearxx @kingsqueensandvagabonds @hanadulsetaad @itsseohannbin @cosmicbinx @whyiskpoptakingovermylife @delicatechris @yeeyeeilacktherapy-blog @starrgirrl @h-dw @bigchudpickleman @hitoxicity @melodyladean @chandlxa @groovyravenagain @mingi-buffering-24-7 @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @roxas-hearts13 @sa1nt-kitty @narratedforbutterflies @simpdemon1 @phantom-nights @caitie-baby99 @raicecakes-and-buldak @wooruby @tati-the-fangirl @ireadurstuff @yessirfelix @imsleepingwhataboutu @angelrissaa

“It’s- Jongho, don’t worry, I’m okay, it’s nothing, it was just a mishap” you spoke calmly as he guided you into the living room.

“A mishap that could have costed you your lives.”

“It wasn’t my fault” you defended yourself instantly. You sat on the couch and slowly shrugged the jacket off your shoulders. “If anything, you can blame these bastards for playing dirty. If I didn’t step in, they would have beaten Yeosang up” you mumbled.

“Yunho was there” Jongho cut in. “He told me he was ready to take them down from afar. You didn’t have to.”

“But it was Yeosang, what if-”

“Don’t play the hero all the time.”

His words came out sharp, almost like a growl, successfully shutting you up.

You cast your eyes down as he sat next to you and silently swatted your hands off your side, where he could instantly tell the injury was. You put one hand on the couch and the other propped awkwardly on the backrest.

You were wearing all black, and in the limited light of your living room, he didn’t see how much blood exactly was staining your attire. But when he peeled the blouse off your skin and pushed it up your chest, his jaws clenched.

“It’s nothing, really-”

“Stop talking.”

You quieted down again.

His hands worked with precision, cleaning up the cut and assessing the damage. It was just a flesh wound, fortunately, and only now that the adrenaline was starting to wear down, did you actually start feeling the pain that came with it. But you pressed your lips together and didn’t say a word. At least until you saw his eyebrows furrow as he reached into the box that made for your first aid kit, digging in for something that must have been stored a bit deeper.

“It won’t need stitching, will it…?” you asked uncertainly, the vulnerability finally coming onto the surface. Jongho’s movements stilled. He took a breath and let it out.

“It will heal better if it’s stitched” he spoke, and now his tone, too, was gentler, more careful. “It’s not deep but it’s not pretty.”

“I don’t want stitches” you mumbled.

“Should have thought about that earlier.”

“Jongho…”

You shifted towards him and wrapped arms around his neck. He hesitated again, as if not certain if he should allow it. But you pulled him closer, careless that you would now stain him with blood. Neither did he care. He sulked for just a moment longer before returning the embrace, mindful of the cut on your side.

“I’m sorry” you finally whispered. “I was scared, too. Really. I don’t take this lightly. I never did. So please don’t be mad.”

He sighed. His face buried in your neck as he gently rubbed your back with his warm hands, soothing the tension still present in your body.

“You know I’m not mad. But sometimes I wish Hongjoong told you you’re not fit for this. So that you would just leave this whole mess behind.”

“You would want me to leave you?” you huffed, pulling away. You knew he didn’t mean anything bad with this statement, but you couldn’t help but pick at it.

“I said leave the mess behind.” His eyebrow lifted. “Of us two, it’s not me who qualifies into that category.”

“Touché.”

EXO Masterlist || SVT Masterlist || ATZ Masterlist || Taglist Form

NSFW Writing Prompts || Some more NSFW Writing Prompts (please check my Navigation to see if requests are open)

The first thing you learned about your husband was that he didn’t smile.

Not at the wedding. Not during the vows.

Not even when the officiant tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke about “till death do you part” sounding a little too literal considering his line of work.

Kang Yeosang had simply stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, hands steady, expression unreadable—like he wasn’t marrying you, but signing a contract.

Which, to be fair, he kind of was.

You weren’t naive.

You knew exactly what this marriage was: a strategic alliance between your family and his. 

Stability. Protection. Power consolidation. 

All the very romantic things that made mafia deals go smoothly.

What you didn’t expect… was how quiet he would be. Not cold in the dramatic, cruel way.

Just… distant.

Like he existed slightly outside of your world.

He spoke when necessary. Ate with precision. Moved like someone always calculating three steps ahead. 

Even at home, where most people would relax, Yeosang remained composed—back straight, voice low, emotions tucked away behind a wall you couldn’t even see the edges of.

At first, you tried.

“Do you like tea or coffee?” you had asked on the third morning after moving in.

“Either.”

“…Okay, but which do you prefer?”

A pause.

“Tea.”

You beamed. “Great! I’ll remember that.”

He nodded once. That was it.

No “thank you.” No follow-up.

Just… Yeosang.

You refused to let that discourage you.

If he was a wall, you’d be ivy.

You talked about everything.

Your day. The neighbor’s weird cat. A random documentary you watched. A joke you found funny.

He listened, always. That was the strange part.

He never interrupted, never dismissed you, never told you to stop talking. He just… didn’t respond much.

Still, you noticed things.

Like how his gaze would linger just a fraction longer when you laughed.

Or how he’d subtly adjust the air conditioning because you once mentioned you got cold easily.

Or how your favorite snacks would magically appear in the pantry after you offhandedly said you liked them.

He didn’t show his affection with his words.

He… executed it.

Quietly. Efficiently.

Like everything else he did.

You shared a room.

A large one, elegant and impersonal at first, until you filled it with small touches—books on the nightstand, soft blankets, a ridiculous amount of pillows Yeosang never complained about.

The bed, however, remained a clear line of demarcation.

You on one side. Him on the other.

He never crossed it. Not even in his sleep. Not even once.

It wasn’t rejection, exactly. It just… felt like distance.

And sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and Yeosang’s breathing was steady beside you, you’d stare at the ceiling and wonder—

Does he even like me?

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

If there was one thing you didn’t share with him, it was your stash.

Hidden carefully in the bottom drawer of your desk, beneath neatly folded scarves and old notebooks, was your treasure trove:

Romance novels. Fanfiction printouts.

Dog-eared pages, highlighted lines, sticky notes marking your favorite scenes.

Soft love. Slow burns. Confessions whispered in the dark.

The kind of affection your marriage didn’t quite have.

It wasn’t that you expected Yeosang to suddenly turn into a dramatic romantic lead.

But sometimes—

Okay, a lot of times—

you wished he’d just… reach for you.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

It happened on a completely normal afternoon.

Which, in hindsight, was exactly how life liked to ruin you.

You had left in a hurry, rushing out to meet a friend, completely forgetting that you’d left your drawer slightly open.

And Yeosang… had come home early.

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular.

Just a document he thought might be on your desk.

He noticed the drawer because it wasn’t perfectly aligned.

And Yeosang was, unfortunately, a man who noticed everything.

So he opened it.

And found…books. A lot of books.

He frowned slightly, picking one up. The cover was… pink.

Suspiciously pink.

He flipped it open.

Read a line. Paused. Read another.

His expression didn’t change much. But his ears turned slightly red.

“His fingers traced her wrist, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her skin—”

Yeosang closed the book.

Very calmly. Placed it back.

Opened another one.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my life.”

Pause. Blink.

Yeosang sat down.

And, for reasons even he couldn’t quite explain…kept reading.

You didn’t think anything was wrong when you walked in.

“Yeosang, I’m back!” you called cheerfully, slipping off your shoes.

No response. That wasn’t unusual.

You wandered into the bedroom—and froze.

Because your husband was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Holding one of your books.

Your brain stopped functioning.

“…”

“…”

He looked up. You looked at him.

The book.

Him.

The book.

Him.

“I can explain,” you blurted.

“Explain what,” he asked calmly, holding up the book, “this?”

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

“It’s—uh—it’s research.”

“Research.”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“…life.”

A pause.

Then—

“…I see.”

He looked back at the page and continued reading.

You stood there. Processing.

“…Wait.”

You stepped closer.

“You’re just going to keep reading it?”

“I was in the middle of a chapter.”

“That’s not the point!”

He glanced at you.

“Then what is?”

Your face burned.

“That’s private!”

“I didn’t know that,” he said, tone even. “It was not labeled.”

“You don’t need a label, it’s obvious—!”

Another pause.

He closed the book gently. Looked at you.

“…Do you like this kind of thing?”

Your soul left your body.

“Why are you asking that?” you said weakly.

“You read a lot of it.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“It usually does.”

“That’s not—” you stopped. “Okay, yes, I like it, but that’s not the point!”

“What is the point?”

“The point is that you weren’t supposed to see it!”

“Why.”

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

“Why.”

“Because it just is!”

Yeosang studied you. Carefully.

“…It is about affection,” he said.

You froze.

“…What?”

“These stories,” he continued, flipping the book slightly, “they focus heavily on emotional and physical intimacy.”

You covered your face.

“I know what they’re about, Yeosang.”

“Do you want that?”

Your hands dropped. The room went quiet.

He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t mocking. Wasn’t even embarrassed.

He was just… asking.

Direct. Honest.

Like he always did.

And suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore.

“…I mean,” you started, quieter now, “I don’t expect… all that dramatic stuff.”

He waited.

“I just…” you hesitated. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me.”

Silence.

“I do,” he said.

You blinked.

“…You do?”

“Yes.”

“…Oh.”

That was… not what you expected.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Something shifted after that.

Not dramatically. Not overnight.

But… noticeably. It started small.

One evening, you were reading on the couch when he sat beside you.

Closer than usual. Not touching.

Just… close.

You noticed. Said nothing.

Then—

His hand moved.

Slowly. Carefully.

And rested next to yours.

Not holding. Not quite touching.

Just… there.

You stared at it. Then at him.

He was looking straight ahead, completely composed.

But his fingers… twitched slightly. Like he wasn’t used to this either.

You smiled. And gently placed your hand over his.

He froze.

But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t react.

Just… stayed.

But his grip tightened. Just a little.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Yeosang approached affection like he approached everything else:

Methodically.

Which led to… some very interesting moments.

“You look… acceptable.”

“Acceptable???”

He paused.

“…Good.”

You burst out laughing. He looked mildly offended.

Another time, you were in the kitchen when he suddenly hugged you.

From behind. Stiffly.

Like he had read instructions but didn’t quite understand them. 

You nearly dropped the spoon.

“…Yeosang?”

“…Yes.”

“…Are you okay?”

“I am attempting something.”

“…I can tell.”

Pause.

“…Is it working?”

You turned in his arms, smiling.

“Yeah. It is.”

The third time, you came home one day to find candles.

Everywhere. Way too many candles.

“Yeosang—why does it look like a ritual in here?”

“I read that this creates atmosphere.”

“…For what?”

He hesitated.

“…Romance.”

You stared at him.

Then laughed so hard you had to sit down.

He looked deeply confused.

Despite the awkwardness, the stiffness, the occasional complete misunderstanding of fictional tropes—

He was trying. For you.

And that mattered more than anything.

But the real moment—

The one that stayed with you came quietly. Like everything important did with him.

It was late.

You were half-asleep, curled up on your side of the bed.

When you felt it.

A shift. Warmth. Weight.

You blinked your eyes open.

And realized—

Yeosang had moved.

Closer. Not all the way.

But enough that his arm rested lightly over your waist.

Careful. Hesitant.

Like he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned back slightly. Into him.

He stiffened. But then relaxed.

And that meant a lot.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Yeosang didn’t become a completely different person.

He didn’t start making grand declarations or dramatic confessions.

But you started noticing more. A lot more.

The way he always made sure you ate. The way he’d stand just a little closer in public.

The way his hand would find yours without thinking.

The way he remembered everything you said.

Even the smallest things. Especially the smallest things.

And sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking… you’d catch it.

A soft expression. A quiet fondness.

Something warm.

Something yours.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

One night, you found something unexpected.

On your pillow. A book.

One of yours.

With… sticky notes. You picked it up slowly.

Opened it.

And saw annotations.

“This is unrealistic.”

“This is inefficient communication.”

“…This is acceptable.”

You laughed. Then flipped to the last page.

Where a single note waited.

“I am still learning. Be patient.”

Your chest tightened.

Soft. Full. Overwhelming.

You looked up.

And there he was. Standing by the door.

Watching you.

“You wrote this?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You smiled. Walked over.

“And what if I said you’re doing really well?”

He paused.

Then, very gently, he reached out.

Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“…That would be… good.” 

“Yeosang?”

“Yes.”

“…Do you love me?”

A rare question.

Direct. Vulnerable.

He didn’t answer immediately.

You waited.

Then—

he stepped closer.

Rested his forehead lightly against yours.

And said, quietly:

“I would not be doing all of this… if I didn’t.”

Not dramatic. Not poetic. Not straight out of your books.

But somehow better.

Because it was him.

And as his hand found yours—steady now, no hesitation— you realized something.

Maybe your story wasn’t like the ones you read. Maybe it didn’t have grand speeches or perfect moments.

Maybe it was slower. Quieter.

A little awkward. A little clumsy.

But it was real. And it was growing.

And most importantly, it was yours.

© lcvejjoong, 2026

“you’re going to want to focus your rom evaluation for the team in their hips,” dr. kim instructs from across the examination room. you nod without looking up, scribbling her notes on your ipad as she continues to break down what assessments you needed to perform.

“make sure to use the goniometer to—”

“follow your shot!”

“make sure to—”

“i said to follow your shot, mingi!”

“make—”

“bro, i did!”

“oh, goodness.” dr. kim huffs at the distant outbursts from the ice and shakes her head, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “these boys and their yelling.”

you laugh at her exasperation and set aside your ipad, propping your chin between your palms while your elbows rest on the padding of the examination table. you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you requested to shadow the university’s medical staff for the hockey team. their reputation was unmatched, both on and off the ice.

of course, it was a nice bonus that your boyfriend was on the starting lineup.

“i’ve got it,” you assure her, “i’ll make sure to submit all my notes when i’m reporting my hours.”

“good,” the older woman answers, glancing at her laptop before she rises from her rolling chair. “i’m headed back to my office, but just an email or phone call away if you need anything.”

“thank you!” you call after her as she disappears into the hallways that lead out of the stadium. the examination room becomes eerily quiet, save for the hums from medical equipment and your apple pencil tapping against your screen as you review your lecture from earlier. suddenly, the door creeps open and you hear heavy footsteps approaching you.

“can i help you?” you ask, unable to hide the smile that grows on your face when you glance up at yunho. he forces a pitiful expression onto his face, his fingers wrapped tightly around his bicep. the way he sulks, even for show, never fails to tug at your heartstrings.

“i think i’m dying.”

“i think you’re fine,” you scold and roll your eyes at his theatrics. “but, if it’ll give you peace of mind, i’ll take a look.”

“best therapist ever,” he sings, swinging tall legs so that he’s sat on the examination table before you. for one of the few occasions, he’s eye to eye with you.

“i’m not a therapist yet,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for his arm. “and if you keep faking injuries, you won’t see a real one if something serious happens.”

“but you love having me as a patient,” he retorts with a comical frown etched across his face. yunho surrenders his arm to you as you prod at the muscles across his arm through the fabric of his jersey. he stares unabashedly at you as you mentally assess him, lost in thought while you apply pressure to where he claimed his injury was.

“does that hurt?”

“i mean, define hurt.”

“yunho,” you scold, tracing your fingers along the length of his biceps for any final signs of an injury he might not be faking. seeing none, you shake your head and release your grip on his arm. “you realize you’d barely be able to lift that arm if you were actually in pain?”

“are you sure?”

“pretty sure you’re not dying.” you fail to contain your laugh at the way he bounds off of the table with glee regardless, throwing said injured arm around your waist so that you were pulled against his torso. even after a round of practice, his familiar scent still lingers on his skin and engulfs you. “although, you might kill me if your grip gets any tighter.”

“fine, fine,” he sighs and releases you with a quick kiss to your forehead. “how’s shadowing going, though?”

“well, i think,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip as you scan the room for anything you needed to address before shutting down the equipment and leading him out of the room so that you could lock up. “dr. kim has been really helpful. it’s been good to help assess real bodies and not just plastic dummies in class.”

“speaking of dummies,” yunho mutters to you as the rest of the team clamors through the narrow halls with their voices loud and resounding against the hollow concrete. they cry out when they see the pair of you, their sticks clattering against the walls and their pads squeaking against their restraints.

“so, is yunho dying?” mingi scoffs, earning a shove from your boyfriend. you shake your head and swat his arm playfully.

“not today, he’s not.”

“he might if he doesn’t tighten up his defense before our game next week,” hongjoong jokes, although the sheepish grin that flashes across yunho’s face tells you that this isn’t the first time he’s been lectured to pick up the slack on the ice.

“i’m sure he will,” you assure him, a cutting glance in your peripheral at yunho as a reminder to talk about it later. “no more faking injuries to waste time off the ice.”

“but i was—”

“bro, you were fine!” wooyoung groans, shoving past him with a dramatic sigh.

“god forbid a man just wants to spend time with his girl,” yunho hums, throwing his arm over your shoulders and continuing out of the arena while you wave a hasty goodbye at the boys with a promise to check on them during their next practice.

“that’s not natural.”

“if you don’t want your hips to lock on the ice, you better follow along.”

you sit cross-legged beside yunho later that night on the floor of his bedroom, your ipad propped against the leg of his chair so that you could practice a stretching routine you’d been recommended by one of the older sports med students. currently, the soles of your feet were pressed together with your knees as far apart as possible. yunho grumbles beside you, awkwardly contorting his long limbs so that he can mimic the instructions until a sharp yelp escapes him.

“i feel like i’m about to split in half.”

“that means it’s working.” you outstretch your arms so that you can arch your back more deeply. “and stop holding your breath.”

a wheeze escapes yunho as he tries to steady his breathing and you laugh under your breath before relieving yourself from the stretch, shifting instead to helping your not-so-limber boyfriend with his poor hip flexors. he furrows his brows at the tension in his legs, watching as you adjust his posture so that you can press your hands to his knees.

“deeper,” you instruct, applying a gentle pressure that he quickly flinches beneath.

“i think you just want to break me,” he groans through gritted teeth as he seems to finally relax into the position.

“y’know, there’s plenty of benefits to torturing yourself like this,” you scold, fidgeting with his limbs so that he doesn’t strain himself. once he’s in a comfortable stretch, you retreat and brush the hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes.

“like?”

“well, being faster on the ice, for one,” you say casually before you shift your weight to the heels of your palms on the wooden floor.

“well, i figured that much,” he chides, “what else?”

“mm,” you hum as you stare at him with narrowed eyes. he meets your gaze, now with an arched brow as he slowly releases himself from the stretch. you crawl towards him just enough so that your voice can dip lower, a teasing smile crossing your features. “tight hip flexors can really limit your range of motion. it can create tension in surrounding muscles and make … certain activities less enjoyable than they can be.”

“like?” he repeats, hooking onto your every word as a new tone overtakes his voice. he matches your expression as he pulls you onto his lap, snaking his arms around your waist to trace his fingers over the small of your back.

“any positions where the hips are extended,” you lilt, threading a hand through his hair as he stares up at you. “missionary, standing on the edge of the bed …”

“sounds like i need to keep stretching then,” yunho replies, his breath growing heavier as he ghosts his lips over yours.

a gasp slips out of you before he pulls you into a kiss, his hands sliding down your back to position you over his cock. you shudder at the familiar feeling, relishing the taste of him as he rocks your hips against his in a slow, languid motion. his kisses trail away from your lips and to your jaw, your throat. he latches onto a particularly sensitive spot and you whimper in response, throwing your head back with another shaky breath.

yunho hums against your skin and you can feel the thundering of his heart beneath his ribcage as your hands trail down his torso. he pulls away from you just enough so that you can meet his lust-filled gaze, his lips parted as he shivers under your touch beneath the hem of his shirt.

you rake your nails across the surface of his skin, warm to the touch and even warmer when you graze past his sweats. he curses under his breath, his hips lifting off of the floor to meet yours—

“bro, can i borrow your—oh—” another voice cuts through the tension and you shoot up, nearly falling out of yunho’s lap in the process. yunho glares over your shoulder at wooyoung. “fuck, sorry. i was just trying to borrow your headphones.”

“you couldn’t knock?” yunho scolds, his body rigid beneath yours. disappointed, you slide off of him and onto the floor to retrieve your ipad.

“you couldn’t lock your door?” wooyoung snaps back, glancing at you with a sheepish grin. you roll your eyes at his expression, trying and failing to appear mad at him for more than a fraction of a second before a scoff slips out of you. “carry on.” he shuts the door behind him in a haste.

yunho pouts at you in defeat. “man.”

“oh, you big baby,” you tease, shoving yourself off of the floor as he does the same. he stretches his hands overhead with a dramatic groan, his body falling limp as he pulls you towards his bed and beneath the sheets. “acting like this is the last time we’ll ever hook up.”

“still!” he protests, caging your body beside his. a comforting warmth radiates off of him as you bury your face in his chest with a deep sigh. the way he strokes your hair causes your own body to relax in his arms as you drift quickly to sleep.

at the next practice, an unexpected injury captures your attention.

you’re seated in the stands for the time being, monitoring the ways in which the players rotate their muscles on the ice and how they shift into different positions when a sharp curse echoes across the rink. the sound of skates cutting through the ice as they halt to a stop resounds against the plexiglass and you look up in curiosity.

dr. kim calls out orders from the corner of the ice, ready to assess injury as the boys assist san towards her. you shuffle down through the bleachers and quickly arrive at her side before you follow them through the tunnel. san grimaces as you help guide him onto the examination table, gripping a gloved hand over his thigh.

“here?” dr. kim asks calmly, ghosting a hand over his inner thigh before he nods once. she glances back at you and takes a step back. “you want to perform the initial assessment?”

ignoring the nerves prick at your skin, you nod with as much confidence as you could muster and approach san with a sympathetic smile. he tries to mirror your expression but it looks more pained than anything else. dr. kim settles onto her stool beside the laptop to open his records for reporting while you take a look at him.

“okay,” you begin, stepping between his knees. “can you let me know if it’s tender when i palpate?” he nods and you press your hands, more clinical and controlled than the way your hands roamed over yunho not even a full twenty-four hours prior, along the inside of his thigh. 

you move with deliberate pressure, mentally expecting him to have pulled his adductor. a sharp inhale escapes him and he winces, causing you to look over at dr. kim in confirmation. you instruct him through bending his knees, moving through a series of stretches while san continues to groan and flinch under your touch.

“it’s a mild adductor strain,” you tell him once he’s been sat straight. “ice, compression, rest. we’ll keep an eye on it for the next day or so, but don’t try to push through the pain and play or you’ll feel worse by the next game.”

“good job,” dr. kim commends you quietly, filing away san’s injury before glancing up from the laptop with a satisfied smile.

san beams at you in spite of his pain. “thanks, doc.”

“anytime,” you answer, trying not to let your ego inflate from the praise. a shuffle in the doorframe forces you to shift your attention as yunho peers into the examination room. you arch a brow, silently scolding him in disbelief as he dramatically limps into the room.

“yes, yunho.” dr. kim lowers her glasses, her eyes shifting between the pair of you as san staggers away on his tender leg. yunho blinks, a string of stammers slipping out of him as his hands roam over his body before stopping on his hip.

“my, uh—my hips feel really tight,” he laments, his gaze locked on you. “i think i should get looked at.”

“so, you won’t mind if i perform your assessment, then?” the older woman asks, crossing her arms over her torso as yunho’s brows rise in surprise. you bite down on your tongue to keep from laughing as he straightens near immediately.

“no, no,” yunho answers quickly, throwing up his hands in surrender. “i just—i thought she could use the clinical hours.”

“she just earned them on someone who was actually injured,” dr. kim scolds, her gaze trailing over every inch of him. “which, you clearly aren’t.” yunho glances over at you in a plea for help that you ignore with a hum, becoming incredibly focused on sanitizing the examination table. “i know it’s all in good fun to spend more time down here, but you’re in the starting lineup. your hips take a tremendous amount of strain so i’d appreciate it if you didn’t cry wolf and have me worried about you when i don’t need to be.”

“yes, ma’am,” he replies, his shoulders slumped while mingi passes through the hallway with a low whistle for dramatic effect. you swallow, sorry for yunho’s lecture but very much aware that she was right.

the week carries on quickly. yunho isn’t as eager to disturb you in the examination room, focusing instead on running drills with the team and even allowing you to guide him through stretching routines in the nights leading up to the game. the playfulness you were used to was replaced by a stoic sense of determination you were only used to when there was a major game. you’d heard rumors of how intense the mavericks played and the type of preparation they went through before a game. you weren’t even on the ice and you felt the pressure.

dr. kim urges you to take the night off and you reject her attempts. if there were ever a time to learn about operating in a high-pressure environment, it would be a game night like this. the crowd roars around you and you look around from your spot beside the rink, along with the rest of the clinical staff at the tunnel entrance. as much as you would have loved to don yunho’s jersey for the night and be up in the stands screaming for him, your uniform and badge reel for the medical team would have to do instead.

the mavericks enter the ring first and the home crowd cheers as the sound of their skates cuts across the ice in a sea of black. the arena lights dim lightly after their entrance, the spotlight trailing to the far entrance before the announcer’s voice blasts through the speakers. you shift your weight beside dr. kim, trying to focus on her small talk while the voyagers come out onto the ice and your heart lurches from the adrenaline. you catch sight of the #11 on yunho’s jersey and press your lips shut to not cheer in support beside the stone-faced medics.

“let’s go, boys,” you say to yourself, your fists clenching and unclenching as you keep an eye on the overhead monitor to watch the game more closely.

the first drop of the puck captures your attention, bodies colliding and ice spraying in every direction while the crowd clamors over which team deserves possession. you were no stranger to the games—you’d been to countless since you’d started dating yunho and he’d been added to the starting lineup. this was different, though. being so close to the ice, knowing that you had a role to play.

“relax,” dr. kim eases, pressing a hand to your shoulder. you sigh, your eyes locked on yunho at the back end of the voyagers and the way his body moves in response to the rival players. you mentally scan every inch of him, from the rotation of his hips to the way his grip is positioned on his stick.

“yeah,” you answer, smiling apologetically without meeting her gaze. the whistle blows to signal the end of the first period, both teams hurrying to their corners and their coaches barking directions for them to adjust their plays. the voyagers were up one goal, making for an early comfortable lead.

you catch yunho’s gaze from the corner of the team’s bench, the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips before he turns back to the coach. your heart skips a beat and you try to ignore the anxiety you felt over him potentially getting hurt in exchange for chatting with the medics about your experience shadowing so far.

a surge of adrenaline fills the arena as the crowd roars to signal the start of the second period. the puck drops and the teams are back with renewed vigor. you grit your teeth when mingi is slammed into the nearby plexiglass, a curse slipping out of him before he regains his composure and skates back towards the center. there’s something in the air for the second period with the mavericks desperate to score.

the rival center forward weaves through the voyagers with ease, moving like water as he closes in on yeosang with the sound of sticks clattering behind him. you tense at his attempt—a successful one, at that—to score a goal and grumble when the audience loses their mind at the mavericks evening the score. you clap your hands and spout words of encouragement from your corner, biting down on a manicured nail when the puck returns to center.

a heated back-and-forth possession ensues, with the voyagers barely able to keep the puck to the far end of the rink where they needed it to be. yunho sweeps into the center behind seonghwa and is able to move it away from the mavericks, cutting inward and picking up his pace as he shouts to the rest of the team.

it happens faster than you’d expected.

yunho plants his right skate against the ice to pivot as a rival defenseman barrels across the ice towards him. the sound of bodies colliding cuts through the noise and you gasp as his torso rotates and you notice a sharp, unnatural shift in his hips from the impact. he loses possession and the crowd is quick to follow before yunho winces and lowers himself onto the ice, his gloved hand grabbing at his hip to ease the pain.

medics skate onto the ice as the garbled sound of the announcer’s commentary and the referee’s whistle flood your senses, your heart pounding as you await dr. kim’s instructions. her expression is unreadable as she prepares her station and one of the stretchers without a word. you look back towards yunho and hear something about him needing to be removed from the ice. he winces, his face drained of color as he fails to stabilize himself without the help of the medics on either side of him. they say something to him beneath the crowd’s chatter and examine his leg, wincing with a groan as you recognize the injury.

you swallow dryly, trying to pay attention to dr. kim’s explanation of what the next steps of the process would be in lieu of the concern that swarmed your mind. yunho’s unable to bear weight on his leg as he’s guided off of the ice, the rest of the boys watching with pale faces as they shift him onto one of the stretchers and prepare to guide him towards the examination room. he doesn’t so much as glance in your direction and your stomach drops when you realize this was far different than anytime he’d bothered you about wanting to be seen.

your hearing is muffled as you follow behind dr. kim with the announcer introducing a second lineup defenseman in yunho’s place. the examination room at the mavericks’ arena feels much more clinical, more sterile than you were used to. you watch as yunho is moved onto the table with careful coordination, any shift in his right leg causing him to grit his teeth in pain.

“tell me exactly where the pain is,” dr. kim says professionally, snapping on a pair of latex gloves as he stands before him.

“in the front,” he rasps, gesturing to the side of his leg below his hip.

“on the planted foot when the defense forced rotation?”

“mhm.”

you shift closer, trying selfishly to catch his eye while dr. kim recites information to document in his record. your fingers tap along the keyboard as you listen further. she flexes his hip to nearly ninety degrees and he yelps, his knuckles white as he grabs the edge of the table. she arches a brow and looks at you. “labral involvement.” she turns back to yunho with a grim expression. “you’re done for tonight. you don’t want to put any more pressure on that leg or your hips or else you’re looking at a much more severe injury.”

“seriously?” he scoffs, bitter at the fact that he was about to be benched. frustration simmers beneath the surface and you finally meet his gaze, the way he looks utterly defeated. “we’re tied out there.”

“seriously,” she parrots. “ice and compression. we’ll arrange crutches, but you’re done.”

you move quickly when dr. kim leaves to speak with the coaches, desperate for something to do to fill the silence as you tried to think of a way to comfort yunho. he doesn’t look at you and just stares forward at the wall while you press the ice pack against his hip and instruct him to not move.

“wasn’t planning on it.” you look up at him and he sighs, trying to mask his frustration with a weary smile as you apply gentle pressure. “at least you know i’m not faking this time.”

“shockingly, that doesn’t make me feel better,” you grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. “i’m sorry, baby.”

“it is what it is,” he says with a resignation you weren’t used to from him. you support him quietly, guiding him to change in the locker room and helping to keep his leg elevated with the ice pack while you listen to the game coming to a close.

the voyagers return with slumped shoulders and fallen faces, confirming your suspicions that they failed to keep the lead. yunho meets them with a forlorn expression, dismissing any of their concerns for his leg in exchange for encouraging words that they would crush the mavericks at their next game.

the cold night air bites at you as you help yunho maneuver into the backseat of his car so that he could keep his leg outstretched. he curses under his breath as he lowers himself onto the leather, his hands gripping the doorframe.

“slow,” you instruct clinically and he grits his teeth.

“i’m going slow.”

you shut the door once he’s situated and circle around to the driver’s seat, settling as the engine hums to life with a sigh. thankfully, yunho’s building was easily accessible and there were elevators that would make his trip upstairs much easier. you glance at him in the rearview mirror as you pull off, your heart heavy at the expression on his face.

“i didn’t even see it coming,” he says suddenly and you tighten your grip on the steering wheel.

“i know.”

“it wasn’t even that hard of a hit.”

“it doesn’t have to be,” you inform him gently as he leans his head back against the window with a grimace. in the years you’d known yunho, there was rarely a moment where you found him anything but bright-eyed and positive. the injury absolutely crushed him, more than you feared you were able to console him for the time being.

“i’m gonna be useless for weeks,” he grumbles, more to himself than to you.

“you’re not,” you assure him, “you just need to heal.”

“hm.” you’re nearly to yunho’s apartment when he perks up suddenly, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror. “you know, i hate not finishing something when i start it.”

“you’ll be able to play sooner than you th—”

“i’m not talking about the game.”

at the stoplight, you whip your head around and find yunho staring at you expectantly with the first smile you’d seen from him since earlier that night. you scoff at his mention of the night wooyoung had stormed in and shake your head, turning back to the road when the light changes back to green.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“what! i’m not going to be able to practice or play for a while,” he explains, gesturing to his leg dramatically. “it’d be nice to have some entertainment in the meanwhile.”

“you’re injured!” you cry out, dumbfounded as you pull up to his building. from the parking lot to the hallway in front of his door, you shut down every one of his advances to convince you that he was in any condition to make love to you anytime soon.

“okay, but what if i took the crutches and—”

“you’re going to bed!” you snap, about to take the crutches away from him entirely and have him crawl along the floorboards when he finally accepts his loss and slinks away to bed in defeat.

the first two weeks feel like hell for yunho.

he’s in no condition to play, but he’s restless beyond belief. he sits at the edge of the rink during practices, his crutches stacked beside him in an empty seat. he stumbles through the halls to the examination room so he can watch you perform routine assessments on the other boys—of course, not without comments on how he was the one who needed the most attention from you given his condition. dr. kim scolds him like clockwork, instructing him that he needed to stay put until his follow-up.

you take yunho to and from his appointment and there’s a shift in the energy from the last several weeks.

“you heard her,” he says from the passenger seat, a smug grin plastered across his face. “cleared for physical activity.”

“that doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

“yes it does.”

“no, it doesn’t.”

he leans his head back against the leather headrest, glancing over at you with a pitiful expression. “i’ve been very patient, you know.”

“you’ve been unbearable,” you tease, patting his leg affectionately. he scoffs and rests his hand over yours, silent for the rest of the ride back to his apartment.

it’s the first time in weeks he’s able to walk independently without the crutches and you observe him like a hawk as he strolls down the hallway from the elevator. there’s no staggering in his pace and his hips sit normally, no signs of pain evident in his movements or his expression. the apartment is silent when you follow him in, the rest of the boys still occupied at practice. you follow yunho into his room and settle onto the edge of the bed, about to speak when he cages you between his hands pressed into the sheets.

“yes?” you ask, glancing up at him and struggling to ignore the tension that simmered between you. weeks of anticipation buzzed along your skin, coupled with the relief that you felt knowing that yunho had narrowly escaped a permanent injury. he arches a brow, leaning in just enough so that his lips brushed over yours.

“cleared for physical activity,” he repeats, more urgently this time. “please.”

“i—yunho,” you say softly beneath the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “are you sure? i don’t want you to risk anything if—”

“i’m really tired of waiting,” he nearly begs, his voice cracking with desperation. “c’mon.”

“… okay,” you finally breathe, barely able to get the word out by the time his mouth devours yours. he shifts onto the bed with his knees on either side of you and you can’t help but pull away to monitor his movements, slow and careful but seemingly painless. “go slow.”

“no promises,” he teases, lifting your legs to wrap them on either side of his waist as he meets your lips with another hungry kiss. little by little, you allow the worry to subside and melt into his touch with a soft sigh. yunho devours the sound with a groan of his own, shifting his hips just enough so that he could press his growing erection against your core with enough pressure to make you writhe under his touch.

you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in deeper, subconsciously shifting him to lay on his side so that he wouldn’t put strain on his hips. he obliges and turns you so that your back is pressed against his torso, quick to devour your neck in a string of open-mouthed kisses that have you grinding against him.

“fuck,” he mutters into your hair, his grip on your waist tightening with every move. you tilt your head back against his shoulder with a blissful sigh. it barely registers that he’s snaked his hand past the hem of your sweats to move your panties to the side. his breath hitches as he glides a fingertip along your folds, already dripping for him before he shoves two fingers inside of you.

“yunho,” you rasp with a tight grip on the sheets around you. he hums at the sound of his name and falls into a steady rhythm that you rock your hips against.

“just like that, baby girl,” he says through a groan, “ride my fingers.”

you oblige without protest, any rational thought long gone from your mind as you grind your hips down onto his hand. he inserts a third finger and you gasp from the sudden fullness as he continues pressing kisses to your shoulder. your mind reels from the feeling of his touch after what felt like an eternity, pleasure rocking against your core and setting every nerve ending on fire.

you can feel your orgasm clawing at you for release, your stomach tight with pleasure as your breath begins to quicken. before you can warn yunho, he slips his fingers out of you and you feel him shift slightly behind you before he lowers your sweats and lifts your leg over his. the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance and you gasp in unison when he positions himself to slide into you until he bottoms out.

yunho rumbles with a low growl as he begins to move, his entire length gliding along your walls and creating a delicious friction you hadn’t had in a while. he wraps a hand around your throat, keeping you confined to his touch as he thrusts against you in a lazy, staggered rhythm.

“good girl,” he says lowly, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to earn a whimper from you. “you like getting fucked like that?”

“mhm,” you mewl and arch your back against him, your hands grabbing at anything from the sheets to his forearm for stability as he fucks you harder. you can hear his breathing against the shell of your ear become heavier when you shift your weight to clench around him.

you tremble against yunho, your release coming even more quickly than before as you sink your nails into his arm with a drawn-out whimper in warning. he hisses at the sting and stills, slipping his cock out of you. you turn back enough to shoot him a glare in question.

“you made me wait, didn’t you?” he teases, his voice clipped from the restraint he was holding himself to.

“you were injured!” you cry out for what had to be the umpteenth time.

yunho just chuckles and shifts so that you can position yourself on top of him. you bite down on your bottom lip as you tactfully avoid his injured leg as much as possible and press your weight down onto him so that he bottoms out inside of you for the second time. you gasp, your lips parted and your eyelids heavy as you rock your hips against him to finally earn your orgasm.

without warning, yunho grabs your hips and keeps you steady so that he can buck his hips up and into you. his hair falls over his face as he pants, determined to regain control when you press a palm to his torso.

“your injury,” you pant breathlessly, your words nearly slurring.

“fuck the injury,” he groans, though it comes out in something more akin to a whine as he fights to keep up the pace. “i need to fuck you.”

“a-ah—!” you cry out when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, his fingers digging into your hips with renewed vigor as he manages to slide fully in and out of you at his own speed. a satisfied grin hangs from his lips as you struggle to stay upright in his lap, falling over and burying your face in the crook of his neck so that he can drag you—finally—to your release.

“god, baby,” you gasp, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest when he hammers into you and you feel the wave of pleasure building, building until it finally spills over. you twitch against him, shuddering as you’re finally able to succumb to your orgasm. yunho groans, not far behind before he holds you steady and comes inside of you with a drawn-out breath.

you fight to steady your breathing as you sit upright, quick to glare at him. he meets you with an exhausted smile before brushing strands of hair from your face, his chest rising and falling from his own deep breaths. he slips out of you and sighs as you venture into the bathroom and return with a bottle of water and a fresh change of clothes.

“at least there’s one perk to being injured,” he lolls, his hands behind his head as he adjusts his hips against the sheets.

“don’t think i won’t be running you like the military to make sure you do all the recovery stretches,” you snap, crossing your arms over your torso at the edge of the bed.

“what did you say?” he asks, feigning ignorance. “that certain positions will help stretch out my hip flexors?”

“i don’t know if you’re remembering it right.”

“oh, i definitely am.”

“you definitely aren’t.”

“well, why don’t we test it out, anyway?”

“why don’t you elevate that leg of yours before i let dr. kim know you’re not following what you’re supposed to do?”

“I’ve never been to a baseball game before,” Y/n said as she looked out the window at the scenery passing by.

Jongho laughed from the driver's seat. “Really? Never?”

Y/n shook her head. “No, it’s not really my thing. My dad doesn’t really watch sports, and I'm an only child so…” she shrugged. “I’ve seen it in, like, movies and tv shows.”

“So if I asked you what inning we were in, you wouldn’t be able to tell me.” 

“What’s an inning?” she looked at him with a tilt of her head.

Jongho laughed again, the sound filling the car. “I love you,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I will give you a run down when the game starts, if you have any questions I will be happy to answer.”

Y/n nodded and squeezed his hand. “Aren’t we getting there a little early? Don’t they usually not start until like 6? It’s only 5.”

“I… I may have a slight schedule to do.” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “But it won’t be long, okay?”

“While you’re doing this schedule, am I sitting alone in the stands?” she pouted.

Jongho brought their hands up and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I mean, you can come backstage with me if you want to, we’ll just say you’re like my assistant or something.”

Y/n looked down at the dress she was wearing. “I don’t think this is appropriate attire for an assistant.” 

Jongho pulled into the parking lot to the stadium and turned to her. He looked at her outfit. It was still really hot in Korea despite it being so close to fall, so she was in a thin cotton dress that rested just above her knee, it was strapless and showed a bit of cleavage, but not too much for it to be too obscene. Jongho thought that she looked beautiful, as always, and if he didn’t have a schedule today he would just not go to the game and go back home to the empty dorm and spend the entire day having her moan out his name in every room of the WooJongJoong dorm.

“I think you look gorgeous,” he squeezed her hand. “We don’t have to say you're my assistant, if you want to sit in our seats and wait that’s fine too. I’ll be like… thirty minutes tops. Manager-nim will be right with you so you don’t have to worry about people looking at you weird.”

“Why would they look at me weird?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re a young, gorgeous woman at a baseball game by herself. They might think you’re lonely and invite you to join their group, and someone might try and flirt with you. I can compete with the other members, but a random hot Korean, I don't think I'd stand a chance.” Jongho laughed lightly.

Y/n rolled her eyes and kissed him gently. “Jongho,” she pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. “I wouldn’t even think of looking at or joining anyone else. You are the only one I'm here for, it’s Choi Jongho or nothing.” she smiled. “I’ll wait for you in the stands, but you have to bring me back some samgyeupsal.”

“Oh you’ve never been here but you know what concessions they have?” he teased.

“Oh yeah. If I'm going anywhere new I always scope out the menu. It’s traveling 101, Jongho.” She kissed his lips again. “Now, let's get in there, you go do your thing and I'll be waiting for you somewhere in the stands with the manager.”

Y/n sat in the stands, the seats her and jongho were at had a perfect view of the field, it wasn’t too close, but not nosebleed high. No one was even paying attention to her, they were all chatting, taking photos, and just waiting for the game to start. She did however notice a suspicious amount of JJONGbears in the crowd.

Weird. She thought. But then just brushed it off because maybe it was just them bringing their ANITEEZ for an outing, she had brought her DDEONGbyeoli everywhere in the states.

“It’s time for the first pitch!” someone said excitedly in front of her. 

“I’m so excited!” someone else yelled, waving around their plush.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium, “to throw the first pitch for the Doosan Bears, global sensation… ATEEZ’s Choi Jongho!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, Y/n clapped along, shocked at the announcement. She watched the screen as Jongho walked out onto the field with Cheolwoong, the Bears’ mascot. She took out her phone and began to record the screen. Jongho waved at the crowd, bowing slightly at the cheers. He posed for pictures with the mascot before taking his place on the pitchers mound. 

She finally understood the sea of JJONGbears, they all knew he was going to be here. She’s an ATINY, why didn’t she? Perhaps it’s because she’s actually with them that she doesn’t pay attention to update pages, they usually tell her everything before anyone else knows… Why didn’t Jongho tell her about this? The stands were filled with baseball fands, ATINY’s and photographers, was this really a good place for them to be seen together?

Jongho stood on the mound in a customized Doosan Bears jersey with his name on the back. He glanced towards their section, a small smirk on his face as his eyes found the familiar dress, he knew she’d be surprised, he hoped the manager hadn’t let anything slip while he was preparing. He gave a small wave to where she was seated, his smile widening as she waved back.

The stadium hushed as he took his windup, he looked like a professional pitcher. He had practiced for weeks, throwing in between schedules, even throwing with Wooyoung in the dorms, much to Hongjoong’s disapproval. 

He threw.

The ball cut through the air and with a satisfying thump it hit the catcher's mitt. A perfect pitch. A strike. The stadium exploded in cheers, Jongho bowed, a wide and genuine smile on his face, he quickly ran off the field for the game to start. He looked so happy.

Y/n sat back down in her seat, rewatching the video, a smile on her lips. She felt an intense pride within her, so intense it almost made her tear up. “That’s my boyfriend,” she whispered to herself. She sent the video to the group chat with the caption ‘LOOK AT MY BABY’. 

Jongho didn’t come to his seat until twenty minutes after the game had started, he had to take photos and do an interview. But when he finally sat down next to her he felt even more elated than when he got offered the pitch. 

He set the bento box of samgyeupsal on the table in front of her. “Here you go, beautiful.” He didn't care that they were in public, he didn’t care about the rumors that might start. He asked Hongjoong if he could bring her and he said yes, so he’s assuming there is some kind of damage control waiting just in case. Granted he did ask the Captain while he was editing a track on his laptop but… hey, at least he asked somebody.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were throwing the first pitch?” she smacked him in the chest. 

Jongho laughed and rubbed where she hit. “I don’t know… I wanted you to be surprised. Was it okay?” he asked, suddenly insecure about his pitching abilities.

“Okay?” Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “Jongho, you were incredible. You looked like you’ve been pitching your whole life.”

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “I’ve been a fan of the bears since I was a kid. So this is like a dream come true for me.” he leaned in closer to her, his voice low just so she could hear. “I was nervous, but not about the pitch. I wanted to make sure that I didn't embarrass myself in front of you.”

Y/n reached out and brushed a stray hair away from his forehead. “You could never embarrass yourself. You were the best person for the job.”

Jongho stared at her, his gaze fixated on her face, ignoring the game behind them. “I’m glad you think that. I wanted this to be a nice memory for us even if it is a bit public.”

“It’s perfect,” she smiled. “But… we might want to reign in a little bit, don’t need dating rumors starting. Seonghwa might actually blow a gasket.”

Jongho laughed and sat up in his seat. “I do have one other thing for you.” He reached behind him and handed her a white jersey. “I know that it’s pretty hot out, but these are really light weight so if you wanted to put it on-”

Y/n immediately put it on. It was a Doosan Bears jersey, looked exactly like his, but on the back it said her last name. “How do I look?”

Jongho looked at her, his ears burning. It was his two favorite things, Y/n and baseball. The hem of her dress had ridden up slightly, showing more of her thighs, and she was angled towards him so his eyes instantly landed on her chest. “Y-you look…” he really wanted to kiss her right now. 

Y/n laughed. “SANdeoki got your tongue, Jongho?”

Jongho cleared his throat. “You look beautiful, as always.”

The two watched the game, the manager beside them letting them have their date. The crowd didn’t really pay attention to Jongho, maybe they sensed that he was on a date and they wanted to give him privacy, or maybe they just figured he wouldn’t want someone turned towards him for the entire game.

Jongho sat, utterly focused, his eyes tracking the ball as it flew from the pitcher's hand to the batter’s swing. Y/n watched him instead of the field, his face a study in concentration. His jaw would tighten when a pitch was missed, he would smile when a player stole a base, the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed with the plays in the game. He was cute. Incredibly cute.

“He’s going for home!” Jonho exclaimed, leaning forward, his hand instinctively grabbing her knee. The runner sprinted, the ball flew, the catcher braced, the runner slid a cloud of dust forming near home plate. There was a shout from the umpire and the crowd erupted in a mix of groans and cheers. Jongho slumped back in his seat, his hand still on her knee. “He was out, by a centimeter." he sighed.

Y/n laughed lightly, nudging him with her shoulder. “You care so much about centimeters?"

Jongho turned to her, his intense look instantly melting into a soft smile. “In baseball? Absolutely.” He moved his hand from her knee and laced his fingers with hers under the table. “You’re not watching the game at all though.”

“I’m watching you watch the game, that’s close enough.” she confessed, squeezing his hand. “You’re way more interesting anyways. You get so… invested. Your eyebrows furrow, then raise, then furrow again. It’s adorable.”

Jongho flushed, a faint pink running up his neck and to his ears. “Adorable? I’m trying to seem intimidating.”

“You’re failing spectacularly.” She squeezed his hand and leaned closer. “I’m glad I came today, I get to see you. You being normal, being a fan. Being you… that’s the best part.”

His eyes softened, the sunlight hitting his dark brown eyes and making them seem as light as yeosang’s. He lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, it was a quick gesture that made her heart flutter. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anything for you, Jongho.”

Jongho explained the basics of the game in low, patient tones between innings, pointing to the positions on the field. He explained the scoreboard and where they sat right now. She listened, but mostly watched the way his lips moved, the shape of his mouth as he spoke, the strong line of his throat when he swallowed his drink. He was right next to her, but she wanted him closer.

During the seventh inning, the manager went to get all of them more concessions. Jongho casually slid his arm behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist, it was risky but no one seemed to notice. His thumb rubbed a slow circle on her hip through the thin cotton of her dress. 

“So,” he leaned closer to her. “Do you understand the infield fly rule now?”

“Absolutely not,” Y/n said, taking a  drink of her lemonade. “But, I understand that you have very nice hands. And are a very attentive masseuse.” 

Jongho laughed loudly, squeezing her hip. “I’m good with my hands in other ways too, beautiful.”

Y/n’s face flushed and she hit him in the chest again.

The game ended with a Bears victory. The stadium emptied in a happy, noisy stream. Jongho kept her close, his hand in hers as the manager navigated them through the crowd. The manager drove them back in the car they arrived in, Jongho saying he was too tired to drive.

In the back seat, he leaned his head back, his eyes closed a small smile on his lips. 

“Happy?” she whispered.

“Very.” He opened one eye and looked at her. “You?”

“Very.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around her waist again.

They arrived back to an empty dorm. A note left on the kitchen counter, written in Wooyoung’s chicken scratch: ‘Hyung’s went out for dinner. DO NOT burn the place down.’

Jongho scoffed and shook his head. “Burn the place down, who does he think I am? Yeosang?”

Y/n laughed lightly as Jongho took her hand and led her to his room. It was neat and very organized, his bed was made, books were stacked neatly on a shelf, and a few framed photos of friends and family on the desk. It fit jongho, the vibe of the room felt warm, reliable. He set his baseball glove on his desk and turned toward her.

“Today was… normal,” he said softly. “Surprisingly normal, considering how public it was.”

Y/n placed her hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “I liked it.”

“I liked it too,” he bent his head, and their lips met.

The kiss started soft, a testament to today's gentleness. Jongho’s mouth was warm, and tasted like the lemonade they had shared earlier. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck, her fingers threading themselves into his dark hair. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The kiss deepened slowly, his lips parting, inviting hers to do the same. The tip of his tongue touched hers, a shy ask if it was okay, she reciprocated quickly. Jongho’s lips curving up into a smile.

They lost themselves in the kiss, standing in the center of his room, the world outside those four walls ceased to exist. There was only the soft sound of their breathing, the wrestle of their tongues as they learned each other's mouths. Jongho’s hands moved to her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones as he kissed her more deeply, one hand left her face and slid into her hair, angling her head up to him. Y/n moaned softly, the sound swallowed by him.

Y/n removed her hands from his hair and tugged at his shirt. Jongho broke the kiss only long enough to yank his shirt over his head, before capturing her lips once more. Y/n’s hands roamed over his now bare skin, his broad powerful chest, the heat radiating off of him was intense. He was beautifully built, strong but not insanely muscular. She ran her nails down his chest gently, Jongho shuddered under her touch.

as his kiss became hungrier, his hands began to wander. They pulled at the top of her dress, he pulled it down, thanking designers everywhere for creating strapless designs. He let the fabric fall off of her, the sundress pooling at her feet, leaving her in a black strapless bra and matching black panties.. And the Doosan Bears jersey. He looked at her, his eyes following her curves.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his hands cupping her breasts, his large hands almost covering them completely. He squeezed and kneaded them gently, his thumbs finding her nipples through the fabric, rubbing them gently. Y/n arched into his touch, a gasp escaping her kiss bruised lips.

Jongho bent his head and kissed her again, his hands moving around her to unclasp her bra, his fingers worked expertly, the clasp giving into him in seconds. The bra joined the dress on the floor, her breasts bared to him, full and soft. Jongho kissed down her neck, down her sternum and took one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue circling the peak. She was already wet from the anticipation of spending the whole day alone with Jongho, and their intense makeout session, her cunt fluttered at the sensation of his tongue on her breast. Jongho switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, his free hand roaming down her spine to the plush skin of her ass.

He pulled her against him, their bare chests meeting. The feeling of his skin against hers, his firm chest against her soft breasts, was everything. He kissed her neck again, his mouth open and hot. He worked his way to the spot below her ear, biting down gently, not to hurt, just to excite her a little. 

“Jongho…” she moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jongho answered with another bite to her collarbone, then soothed it with a kiss and a quick flick of his tongue. “I want to remember every part of you,” he whispered against her skin. “Every taste, every touch, every sound..”

His hands went to her panties, he hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled down, letting them fall. She was completely naked, just wearing the custom jersey of his favorite baseball team unbuttoned, showing everything to him. He stepped back slightly, looking her over. This was like a wet dream to him. His eyes darkened, his breaths became heavier.

Her breasts, her soft stomach, the curve of her hips, her pussy. He could see the glistening evidence of how turned on her was, coating her cunt and a little bit of her thighs. She stood still, letting him look, a flush of heat and pride filling her.

“God…” he breathed, reaching out, not touching her just yet, his fingers tracing the shape of her hip in the air above it. “You’re perfect.”

Jongho finally touched her again, his fingers sliding into the wetness between her hips. He stroked upwards, over her clit in a slow firm pass that made her legs shake. He did it again, watching her face as her eyes fluttered shut, her lip being pulled between her teeth.

“You’re so wet for me already, beautiful,” he smirked. “So ready.”

Y/n reached for him, her hands going to the button of his jeans. He watched with an amused smile as she undid his button and zipper, then pushed them and his dark boxer briefs down his thighs. His cock free, her cunt instantly clenching at the sight.

Jongho’s cock was thick. Impressively thick, he was also long, not as long as Yunho but still  a decent length. His head was flushed a dark color, precum coating the top. He was fully erect, and as magnificent as everything else about him.

Y/n reached out, her hand wrapping around his cock. The heat of him, and the solid weight of him, made her bite her lip. She stroked him from base to tip, her thumb swiping over the slit on his head. Jongho groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Y/n…” he moaned.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes meeting his. “I want you, Jongho.” she said, simple and direct.

Jongho nodded, his jaw clenched. He took her hand from his cock and led her to his bed. He sat on the edge, pulling her to stand in between his legs. “Camera?” his eyes glanced at her phone on his desk. “Do you want to?”

She did. This moment felt precious, she wanted to capture it. Even if she never posted it on her page, she could just keep it for herself and be reminded of how she felt in this moment. Loved. Cherished. “Yes.”

Jongho got up and grabbed her phone, he got it set up to record, positioning it on the bedside table to capture just the bed and them. He double checked the view, making sure their faces were out of shot, only their bodies being recorded. He reached out to her. “Just us, and this.”

He kissed her again, this time claiming her in front of the camera. He laid her back on the bed, the comforter cool against the warmth of her body. He followed her down, his body covering hers, his cock pressing against her thigh. His hands explored her body, cupping her breasts, kneading her ass, sliding between her legs to feel her wetness again.

Y/n was squirming underneath him, her hips lifting into his hand, seeking more contact. Jongho happily obliged, sliding a finger inside her wet cunt. She was hot, slick, and welcomed him with tight ease. He added another finger, stretching her as he scissored his fingers gently, his eyes locked onto hers. He felt her inner walls tremble around him, then he curled his fingers seeking that special spot.

“There..” Y/n moaned when he found it, sending a shockwave of pleasure through her body. “Right there, baby…”

Jongho focused there, stroking her gspot with relentless determination, his thumb simultaneously rubbing her clit in small circles. He could feel her cunt tightening around him, he knew she was getting closer, her orgasm was building quickly. She pushed his hand away gently and he looked up at her with a confused face.

“I need you inside me,” she panted with a pout. “Not your fingers. You.”

Jongho moved, positioning himself between her legs. He gripped his cock at the base, stroking himself as he looked down at her, before guiding himself into her entrance, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her slit to coat himself in her slick. The stimulation, paired with the sight of his eyes blown and his lip between her teeth, made a soft whimper escape Y/n’s lips.

He paused, looking down at her, his fingers tracing the edge of the jersey. “The jersey,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Keep it on.”

She had almost forgotten. The dress had come off, but the oversized Bears jersey he had given her was still on. The fabric was soft, and bright white it contrasted the dark gray of his bedspread, it smelled faintly of her perfume, his cologne and sunblock. It was big on her, it fell mid thigh when she was standing. She was wearing nothing but the jersey, still covered but also exposed, her breasts bare under the open front, the buttons undone so it just blanketed over her.

“You’re so cute in it,” he murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. “My beautiful fan.” He leaned down, kissing her deeply, their tongues tangling together as his cock nudged at her entrance. He pushed forward slowly.

The head of his cock was broad, and pressed against her opening. He pushed inward, inch by inch, the feeling of him filling her and stretching her made her eyes roll back. She gasped into his mouth as her inner walls continued to stretch to accommodate his thick cock. Jongho went slowly, watching her, his own expression a mix of awe and strained control.

“You’re taking me so well, beautiful,” he praised, his voice slightly rough from holding back. “My good girl. So perfect for me.” 

He sank deeper, another inch, then another. Her cunt adapted, welcoming his cock, the slick wetness easing his entrance. She could feel every ridge of his shaft, every vein, the heat of him inside her. When he was halfway in he paused, letting her adjust to him, letting the sensation subside a bit. He kissed her again, his lips gentle, a soothing contrast to the sensation in her cunt right now.

“Look at me,” he whispered, pulling his face away from hers.

Y/n opened her eyes, his gaze locked on hers. His deep brown eyes, full of an emotion so deep it stole her breath. This was not just sex, this was making love. 

Jonho pushed forward again, until his hips met hers, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. He was so deep, so thick, she felt full in a way she had only experienced with him. He stayed there, motionless for a moment, their bodies flush together, his eyes holding hers.

Finally he began to move.

He pulled out almost all the way, the drag of his thick cock along her sensitive walls made her moan loudly. Then he pushed back in, that same slow, deliberate pace. Each thrust was deep, and slow, and reached places in her that even her toys back home never touched. The broad head of his cock rubbing against her gspot with every thrust, sending a wave of pleasure through her every time.

His pace was slow, but powerful. It wasn’t a frantic rush to the finish, he was savoring it. He looked down at her, his eyes never wavering from hers as his body moved with hers. She could see every ounce of pleasure in his expression, every surge of emotion, and he could see hers. The way her eyes widened when he hit a particularly deep spot, the fluttering her eyelids did as his hips ground into hers, the parting of her lips as she moaned out his name.

His hand took hers, their fingers sliding together, locking tightly. He squeezed her hand, grounding them both as the sensations continued to build. His other hand cupped her breast, his thumb circling her nipple with each thrust.

“Jong..ho…” she moaned, her voice breaking.

“You feel…. Incredible,” he growled, his control starting to fray. His thrusts gained a little more speed, a fraction more force. The bed began to creak softly under their rhythm. The sounds of their bodies meeting, the slap of his skin against hers, the wet sounds coming from her cunt as his cock dove in and out filled the room.

Jongho shifted slightly, adjusting his hips and his angle, the new position allowing his head to press directly into her cervix. He fisted the white fabric of the jersey as he continued to thrust into her. The sensation was too much, the new angle, the intense look in his eyes, her hips bucked, trying to meet his thrusts, taking him even deeper.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he urged, his voice strained. “I want to see you cum… let go for me, baby.”

Y/n couldn’t take it much longer, his words, the deep, relentless thrusts, the sensation of his hand on her breast, it was too much. Her back arched off the bed, her head thrown back as a moan of pure pleasure ripped through her throat. Her cunt clamped down on his cock in tight, rhythmic pulses, gripping him, milking him. The feeling of her walls fluttering around his cock was intense, almost overwhelming.

Jongho watched her cum, his face full of awe. He kept thrusting, his pace becoming more urgent, diving into her convulsing cunt rapidly. “So beautiful,” he choked out. “So fucking beautiful.”

Y/n rested her hands on his shoulders, her climax leaving her trembling and weak. But Jongho wasn’t done. He kept moving, his thrusts returning to that slow, deep rhythm, almost triggering another gush of release from her right away. Y/n’s body was hypersensitive and responded right away, another orgasm quickly building within her.

“Again,” Jongho demanded, his voice a rough whisper. “Give me another… I want… I need to feel you cum around me again.” 

He reached down with the hand that was on her breast and found her clit again. He rubbed it in fast, firm circles, trying to get her the rest of the way there. The sensation of his fingers on her clit combined with the deep thrusts of his thick cock was too much, too good. A second orgasm crashed through her, this one a series of intense, clenching spasms that made her thighs shake and her eyes roll back. She sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure leaking from her eyes as her cunt continued to convulse around him.

Jongho rode through her second orgasm, his breathing becoming ragged, his thrusts once again growing harder and faster. The bed continued to rock underneath them, slight worry crossing his mind that it might break. His eyes were dark locked on hers, watching as she came completely undone underneath him. His hand left the jersey and clamped around hers once more, almost painfully.

“I’m gonna cum, baby…” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Y/n… shibal… I'm..”

“Inside me,” she pleaded, her voice a whisper. “Please, Jongho… Cum inside me.”

He didn’t dream of pulling out, but hearing her beg for him to cum inside her in Korean sent him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could inside her. His body stiffened, a slight tremor running through him. She could feel the hot, sudden rush of his cum inside her. His cock twitched and jerked, pumping his cum deep in her cunt. The sensation of being filled by his cock and his cum, the warmth spreading within her, triggered a third orgasm. A small one, a series of small convulses that made her sink her nails into the flesh of his hand and shoulder.

Jongho collapsed onto her, his weight on her completely, their bodies glued together from sweat and their shared releases. He was still inside her, still pulsing weakly as the rest of his cum emptied out inside her. He buried his face in her neck, his breath coming out in short rapid gusts against her sweaty skin. She could feel the rapid heart beat against her chest.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, wrapped together in the aftermath, the scent of sex lingering in the room. Jongho pressed a kiss to her neck before her gently, and reluctantly, pulled out of her. She felt the immediate empty ache, and the trickle of their combined releases escaping her cunt. He didn’t go far, he rolled onto his side next to her, pulling her with him so she laid on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, holding her tightly. He kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her eyelids, then her nose, and finally her lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

“‘M okay..” she whispered, nuzzling into his chest.

Jongho reached out for her phone, almost dropping it to the floor. “Shibal..” he whispered. He turned off the recording and laid the device on the bed next to them. 

In a few minutes he got up and got a warm, damp towel from his bathroom. He cleaned her up gently, wiping the sweat from her face, her neck and chest, then carefully cleaning the mess between her legs. Before doing the same to himself. 

He laid back down next to her, facing her. Y/n tangled her legs with his, the jersey still hanging loosely on her frame. Jongho reached for his phone and opened his gallery.

“Look,” he said gently, scrolling through pictures of the game. 

There were shots of him backstage with players, the mascot, when he got his customized jersey (and on the table behind him was the one he gave her). There were photos of the crowd, and shots of the players during the game, and there were ones of them, eating their concessions together, sharing a tray of pork belly and kimchi noodles. A selfie of them together with the crowd blurred behind them, a picture she had taken of him laughing, his head thrown back and a huge grin on his face. And one the manager took of them showing off their custom jerseys.

“You’re really cute when you watch baseball.” Y/n said as she looked at a photo of him pretending that his tornado potato was a baseball bat.

Jongho looked at her, not at the phone. His expression was full of love. “Y/n…” he said quietly. She looked at him, the phone forgotten between them. “Today… this…” he swallowed. “I never want to let you go.”

Y/n looked at him, the vulnerability in his eyes. His confession wasn’t just about today, it was about everything. He wanted her forever, not just here in Korea temporarily. She thought about every moment they shared, every quiet laugh, every lingering touch, the way his fingers traced patterns on her hip in the car, how he’d remembered exactly how she preferred her steak cooked, the truth in his voice when he called her beautiful.

She didn’t answer him with words, instead she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. A slow, deep kiss that hopefully was an answer itself. His lips were warm, and she could feel them tremble against hers. His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer until there was no room between them, just the heat of their bare bodies against each other. His hand slid into her hair, cradling her head gently.

When they finally broke apart she pressed her forehead against his. “You don’t have to let me go,” she whispered, nudging her nose against his. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jongho exhaled shakily, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Good, because I think I'd follow you anywhere.”

They kissed again, softer this time. His fingers tracing idle circles on her back through the jersey, her thumb brushing his jawline affectionately. The room was quiet except their breathing, the city outside the window seeming to disappear. The unspoken understanding that this, their whole relationship, was real. 

And neither of them wanted it to ever end.

© 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓-𝖇𝖞-𝖏-𝖔𝖓𝖊 | 𝖉𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊, 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊, 𝖔𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐 ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ, ɪᴛ ɪs ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜsʟʏ.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 (no minors or ageless blogs pls)

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: @sunnysidesins @tashiagalinda @kpopishgirlie @pippeth3hippy @sabyy @fertileleaf @osakis-gf @shynotded @icarusfallingdown @yessirfelix @heyyoplayer @wooya1224 @soulphoenix1618 @purelyhated @hannah-barnes107 @baw-sixteen @huntress-artemiss @bethlovesmatz @mysticfire0435 @tinycloudz

“Jjongieee bearrr~” You say as you walk over to Jongho, as he’s casually sitting in the kitchen on his phone. “Yes honey” He responds back without looking at you, his eyes glued to his phone. You frown at the interaction. “Pay attention to me Jjongie” He sighs “Not right now honey, I have to handle this” You roll your eyes, stomping your foot before you move to the living room.

Your head starts to spin, how many more phone calls is he gonna take? I’ve been waiting for him all day and all he’s gonna do is be on the phone?

After sitting with your thoughts for a couple minutes, you muster up the courage to spice things up. You slip off your panties that were hidden under your oversized tee. Swinging them around your finger as you walk back over to him. Stuffing them into his pocket.

“What’d you put in there” Jongho says coldly still looking at his phone. “Don’t worry about it” A giggle escapes your lips before you straddle his thigh. “Honey seriously.. not right now”. “You don’t need to do anything, just sit like that” You purr in his ear, you feel Jongho’s breathing hitch.

You start to rock against his strong thigh, the pressure on your clit sending you to the stars. Jongho’s looks down at your frame, flexing his thigh to see if he could get a reaction out of you “Oh fuck!” you moan loudly stunned at his compliance to your behavior.

He chuckles to him, finally setting his phone on the table “Such a needy baby, look at you trying to get off on my thigh” You look up at him with pleading eyes as lewd sounds travel from your mouth to his ears. His hands travelled down to your hips, guiding your movements. You mew at the feeling of his touch.

“Such a slut” He hissed through his teeth, the grip on your hips tightening. You throw your head back, your cunt throbbing around nothing, the slick soaking into his slacks. “Keep talking, please” You rut your pussy against him eagerly. “Keep going whore, squirming against my thigh like a dumb puppy” His voice dark, as he whispers in your ear.

You feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, you wrap your arms around his neck for support. “Jjongie.. gonna’ cum” He smiles at you “Go on baby, go ahead and cum around nothing” His words were all you needed. Your pussy clenched, your legs tremble as your orgasm overwhelms your body. “FUCK!” Jongho runs his hands along your waist “Go ahead baby, I got you”

Your breathing rapid as you try to speak to Jongho, “Fuck that was good” You lift your leg up to get off of him. Jongho’s hands quickly grab you, keeping you on his lap.

“You have no idea of what you just started”