the diamond life ◊ x.mh [m]
↳ part of the 'aju league' collab!
— synopsis: reuniting with an rare two-night stand on the mound was not something you ever thought would happen — but it’s not like he remembered who you were, anyway…right? – genre: open-ended, not so strangers to lovers au / baseball au ; only a little angsty, smut, fluff. they're stupid. — pairing: model!xu minghao x fem!pitcher!reader – word count: 11.6k — rating: 18+. minors do not interact. – warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, honestly very vague, the smut is the star of the show here and not even all that well. that being said: smut warnings: oral (f.rec), masturbation/clit play, fingering (f.rec), body worship (f.rec), biting, nipple play (f.rec), unprotected sex (that's a no no) multiple orgasms, creampie. — what to listen to: heartburn - sunmi ; diamond days - seventeen ; atm - jihyo ; 四月的漂流 - the8. – author's note: i'll easily admit this is not my best work. i've been burnt out for a few months and i'm trying my best to get myself back in order. forgive me for the vagueness of it all, but i know all of you are incredibly imaginative and creative enough to fill in the gaps and also...leave room to wonder. thank you to hali @sailorsoons for allowing me to be part of this collaboration & being so patient with me. thank you to @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr for these star dividers. no beta, we die like men.
MINGHAO IS STARING AT THE E-MAIL ON HIS AGENT’S CELLPHONE.
“You’re joking.”
“I can assure you, I am not. Come on, Hao! It’s just a first pitch, and you don’t even have to stay for the game!” Lee Seokmin smiles brightly, and Minghao tongues his cheek as he gives the cheerful man a deadpan look.
“You will want to stay for the game.” “I will! But it’s up to you, superstar.”
“You’re buttering me up and you know it,” Minghao sighs, leaning his head back against the wall of the studio. He’s surrounded by racks of clothing he’ll wear once for the camera, and shrugs his shoulders as Seokmin juts his lip in a pout. He gets in Minghao’s face, batting his eyelashes as Minghao scrunches his nose, pushing him back slightly and sticking his tongue out at him like a toddler.
“Fine. One pitch.” “We’ll have to work on your technique! Don’t wanna embarrass yourself out there, you know. They’re a co-ed team.”
“They have those?” Minghao yawns, stretching his arms over his head as Seokmin types on his phone, nodding. “I don’t keep up with baseball like that, sorry.”
“No worries, I’m actually good friends with the captain of their team. Choi Seungcheol, I’ve introduced you, right? We’ve had dinner at his a couple times.”
“I know who Seungcheol is. Great brows on that guy, I’ll say.” Minghao rolls his shoulders back, adjusting in his seat.
“Great butt, too.” Seokmin nods again, and Minghao gives him an amused look as he reaches for his phone across the couch, “sure, Seok. Whatever you say.”
“It is! Have you seen it? Phenomenal, I see why the Diamonds are so big on social media.” “Or...they could just be good.” “They are, but he’s also a cutie.”
“You’re so funny,” Minghao chuckles, unlocking his phone to see two new messages from his manager, Boo Seungkwan, following up on the e-mail about throwing the first pitch at the last game of the season for the Daegu Diamonds. Tonguing his cheek, Minghao just shoots back a short response in the affirmative, before feeling Seokmin pat his knee.
“Alright, I’ve confirmed. We’re going to be down there tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll book the flights and send your ticket over before noon today. Pack light, we’ll only be there three days before we’re in Japan for Tokyo Collection. You’re walking for the Cherry Jubilee spring launch, and we’re having dinner with Seungkwan and Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan, the designer.” Seokmin looks at Minghao pointedly, who only glances up at him with boredom.
“Yes, I know who Jeonghan is. We’re friends.” He lolls his head back, and Seokmin shrugs, “you know so many people, Hao. I can only take the initiative and ensure that you remember them.”
Seokmin shoves his phone in his pocket, grabbing his jacket off the chair with a click of his tongue, “I’m gonna go on a quick coffee run, but they want you in the red set first. If you need help, Seungkwan is down the hall talking to the creative director. Do you want anything? Tea? Something to nibble on? Lunch is in an hour.”
“I’m good. You go ahead, I’ll be out of here in a bit.”
Seokmin nods, slipping out of the room whistling something that sounds a lot like Death of a Strawberry by Dance Gavin Dance. Minghao waits until the door shuts behind him to melt into the grooves of the couch, letting the soreness of the already-long day seep into his muscles as he drums his fingertips against his phone. He stares at a water spot in the ceiling tiles, his chest heavy as he opens his phone and scrolls down through his messages. Lots of old friends from back home, a few of his fellow modeling peers, a couple designers...
An unsaved number, with messages dating back two years.
He can’t bring himself to delete it.
He doesn’t remember your full name, either, and it bothers him – only remembering your face, and that you liked the Daegu Diamonds. If he scrolls up high enough, he’ll see the exchange of nude photos and videos, and his face will grow hot before he clicks off the message thread and chooses to ignore it for exactly ten minutes...
Before going back in and staring at the thumbnail of the singular video of you together, taken on his phone on the second and last night you ever saw each other. A week after meeting at a hole-in-the-wall bar, you’d gotten a non-disclosure agreement sent to him and he’d filled it out within ten minutes – sending it back with a ticket to meet him in Osaka the next weekend. He was him, and you were you – he'd said something about not having enough time, you admitted to commitment issues...and you both settled on two nights in Japan – away from the cameras, away from any friends or family.
Just you.
It had been fun. Of course, it was fun – as fun as risky, messy sex with a girl he didn’t know and didn’t have to know could be. You didn’t care to know him, either – only heading straight to business the moment you both crossed the threshold of the hotel room he’d gotten for the weekend. He had a pair of white panties in his apartment from that night, pulled off you with his teeth and shoved into the pocket of his True Religion jeans – never to meet the inside of your duffel bag again – but it wasn’t enough.
Unfortunately, you lingered in his mind at the most inopportune moments. He could be half naked in someone else’s bed and about to get down to business; when your body will flash by his eyes, enough to knock him off his game, even if just for a moment. He’ll be in meetings, and he’ll feel his skin prickle as if he can still feel the ghost of your blood red fingernails dragging down his back. He’ll be sitting at dinner, his eyes trained on the food in front of him as he sips his drink but all he can taste is you.
It feels cynical. Like a slow form of torture, to look at those messages and know that he’s drawn a line he cannot cross. To know that if he just presses play, even just once – he'll hear every single sound he drew from you in just those fifteen minutes. He’ll see the way your body was flush against him, the way you sighed at the feeling of his lips against your burning skin.
He’ll remember the taste of your sweat as he dragged his tongue up the slope of your neck before sinking his teeth into you – marking you for the weekend. Never to be in his arms again.
He hasn’t watched it since the night he sent it. The temptation is there. It’s always there, just like the photos of you that he can’t bring himself to look at.
Message From: +82 010-2015-0526 Best of luck, Minghao! See you around. (Delivered)
Message To: +82 010-2015-0526 You too, sweetheart. (Read: 4:32 AM)
Minghao barely unlocks the door of his condo when the warmth of the heater hits his face. He shivers, locking the door behind him and resting his forehead against the cold steel. He lets out a deep breath, shrugging his coat off as his phone buzzes in his pocket, arguably another message from Seokmin or Seungkwan, or even the most hidden person on his team — Soonyoung. A cheery, bright-eyed publicist with a knack for persuasion, carefully navigating Minghao into the oddest of situations that have skyrocketed his career. It's because of Soonyoung that Minghao is the face of so many brands, plastered all over in countries he's never even been to. At least, not yet.
Minghao hangs his coat with no urgency, smoothing the lapels before closing the front closet door and easing his way into his home. He toes his shoes off, sliding them onto the shelf in the foyer before stretching his arms over his head and walking into his empty living room.
Empty living room with a single lamp on, waiting for him to come home. Empty kitchen, with food packed neatly in the fridge waiting to be eaten. An empty bathroom, empty bedroom.
Empty bed.
He can never get too comfortable. His condo in Shanghai is the closest he gets to feeling at home – even if his apartment in Seoul has seen him the most, and his studio in Osaka is bare bones aside from a few art pieces on the walls and a singular photo of him and his parents on a desk in the corner.
Maybe that’s loneliness. Having so much and wanting so little, but to be rich in love...he yearns for that.
He reaches into his pocket as he sits on the edge of his recliner, tonguing his cheek as he reads the message across his screen.
Group Message From: Unnamed Group (4 Members) Choi Seungcheol (DD): Hey, guys! Heard from our head of SNS that you’d be coming down for a game. Are you throwing the first pitch, Minghao? We’d love to get a team photo with you! Let us know. Lee Seokmin (Work): You’re so cute. Yeah, we’re gonna be down there this weekend, we’re flying in from Shanghai in the morning. Should we expect to drop by the Choi residence for dinner? (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) +82 010-2015-0526: Shit, hey Seok. I asked Cheol to make the group because I broke my phone a few months ago and lost your number. I have gossip, call me when you can. Good luck this weekend!
Minghao stills, his brows furrowing as he looks at the number again. He exits the group, quickly scrolling down his message threads before seeing the number right there. Seungcheol replies in the groupchat as he stares at the conversation between you and him – his skin prickling as he enters and exits the thread almost anxiously.
“Shit,” he runs a hand over his face, tossing his phone onto the recliner as he gets up. He beelines for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water out of his refrigerator when he hears his phone continue to ping with messages. He brings the bottle to his lips, taking a poor excuse for a sip before setting it down on his countertop.
The cold of it hurts his stomach.
He moves back to the recliner, quickly unlocking his phone and reading through new messages. Seungcheol, Seokmin, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Seokmin again...
You.
NEW! 2 Messages from: +82 010-2015-0526 [9:32 PM] Minghao, right? [9:32 PM] Oh, wow...I forgot we'd made these.
He groans.
It’s not like Minghao to particularly care about the past, but he doesn’t remember your name. Surely, if you’re affiliated with Seungcheol, you could be very well affiliated with the Daegu Diamonds.
He nibbles on his lip for a moment as the chat bubble on your end pops up and disappears repeatedly before it dawns on him – Seokmin said that the Diamonds were a co-ed team.
He doesn’t reply to your texts, opting to go onto the official site for the Daegu Diamonds and scour through the roster. Many faces are familiar – Lee ‘Woozi’ Jihoon, Park Jihyo, Lee ‘Dino’ Chan...
Y/N Kim. A pitcher for the Daegu Diamonds, repping #08 on the mound. Your height, your weight, your birthday, your social media – it's all there, in color on his screen.
He, against his better judgment, presses the Instagram icon beneath your debut date – November 9th, 2015.
His phone redirects him to your profile. You’ve amassed millions of followers, your profile plain of any introduction aside from a cheeky photo booth strip as your profile photo and ‘#08 DD’ in your biography. You have Fire by 2NE1 linked to your profile, and there is a neat array of posts filling the screen.
Your profile is purely...you.
Not just pictures of you, but…the embodiment of you as an art. Your style. Everything he would've assumed a curated profile surrounding you would look like.
Candid photos, photos of you and friends at dinner or simply hanging out together. He spots several shots of his own colleagues and friends – Hansol 'Vernon' Chwe, a music producer he’d met in passing at a Cherry Jubilee show six years ago; Chou Tzuyu, a designer for Lazy Baby and Kim Mingyu, a fellow model and the face of Calvin Klein (and abs, and arms, that man is beautiful.)
Also Tzuyu’s fiancé.
Not that anyone knew that.
He scrolls further and further – before seeing an Osaka carousel from two years ago. The song over the post is Heart Burn by Sunmi, and he scrolls past several pictures only to stop on the second to last.
Him.
Well, not him.
His jacket, the corner of one of your photos. The Osaka skyline from the hotel room is the focus, but he can see the letters on the back of his monogrammed jacket – XU MIN visible before the photo crops the rest of it out. His watch is on the windowsill, and a sliver of his back is visible on the bed. The window was behind the bed frame, and you had to have been standing by the vanity to get that angle.
He chews on his lip anxiously, scrolling to the next photo before seeing your fingers holding a ring up to the light at the airport. A signet ring, his signet ring with an orchid stamped in the center – one he’d lost after that trip. He clears his throat, glancing at the caption before his eyes widen.
diamonddazed: i hope we find time for more than osaka someday.
His tongue runs behind his teeth as he closes the app, his head hanging low between his shoulders as he lets out a sigh. His phone continues to buzz and ping in his hand, but he ignores everyone else to move to your thread with him.
NEW! 2 Messages from: Y/N [9:34 PM] I hope this...history doesn’t hinder your ability to come see the guys this weekend. They talk about you and Seokmin all the time. [9:34 PM] But, it would be nice to see you. Maybe we can get drinks. LMK (:
Minghao taps his foot as he opens and closes his keyboard. He tries typing a few letters, erasing them. Tries again, deletes them.
He opens his email instead, typing your name into the search box before seeing a copy of the non-disclosure agreement he signed. He opens it, reading along the lines of when the contract ends. Maybe he can get out of this, state personal differences. Maybe say it wasn’t good for his brand to be tied to so many things plus baseball.
Two weeks from today.
“That’s not soon enough,” he murmurs, closing out of the application and moving back to messages. Seokmin has texted him six times, but he doesn’t care to reply as he opens your thread again.
Message to: Y/N [9:39 PM] Are you in Seoul right now?
He presses his thumb to his lips, and he can almost imagine the smile spreading on your lips as his phone shows that you’ve read the message. His knee bounces as you type, only to stop when your message comes through.
NEW! 2 Message from: Y/N [9:42 PM] [1 Attachment] [9:42 PM] Shanghai. Fly out for the game tomorrow afternoon.
His stomach drops as he sees the Shanghai skyline fill his screen, and he can barely see the subtle reflection of you in the window – wrapped in a white towel, the glisten of your red nails bouncing off the fabric. He glances around the photo, trying to see anything else in the reflection before another message bounces in.
NEW! 1 Message from: Y/N [9:43 PM] I’m alone if you want to swing by. Room 1107 @ the Conrad Shanghai.
Minghao feels stupid as he nearly falls out of his recliner, shoving his phone in his pocket as he moves back to his foyer. He shoves his shoes on, cheeks hot as he grabs his coat and pulls it on haphazardly. He barrels out his front door, not bothering to check that it has shut behind him as he beelines for the stairs.
He feels a rush course through him as he pulls his phone back out of his pocket, stopping at the top of the stairs to type a quick message.
Message To: Y/N [9:47 PM] Lose the towel.
Getting past the lobby proves to be far too easy. He flashes a few quick smiles, signs a few slips of paper before he calmly steps into an elevator, knowing the Conrad like the back of his hand as he presses your floor button. He fiddles with his coat's buttons, flapping it open, before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He trills his lips, leaning against the wall of the elevator as he watches the floor counter go up. The elevator seems to sense his urgency, and it jolts to a stop on your floor.
He slides out between the barely open doors, his eyes scanning the doors for your room number – finding it at the very end of the hall. He knocks twice, softly – adrenaline making his hands shake as he shoves them back into his pocket.
The door opens slightly, but you’re behind the door as your hand beckons him inside. He tongues his cheek, slinking in through the gap to see you wrapped in a robe. He raises a brow at it, his fingers pinching the tie and tugging lightly.
“Room service,” your voice is soft, “can’t be indecent, you know.”
“Doesn’t look like room service is here, though.” He responds, nerves making his tongue feel larger than it is as you glance at his fingers still holding the tie. He rolls his eyes, wrapping it around his hand and using it to pull you closer, “you sleep with anyone else here?”
“No.” You shake your head, your hair still slightly damp as your hands splay on his chest. His jaw is tense as he runs his eyes down the slope of your neck, across your clavicle to the small chain snug at the base of your throat. He glances up at your face, your lips smooth with lip balm and your cheeks still soft, still as supple as he remembers them.
“Are you lying?” “No, Minghao. I wouldn’t have asked you over if I had.” “So, I’m just a quick fuck before you fly home?”
You don’t reply, rolling your eyes as you press your lips to his. Your hands on your chest slide around his slender waist, pulling him closer as his hand loosens around the tie of your robe. He kisses you back carefully, pulling at the knot of the tie as your tongue slips into his mouth. The same taste that’s sat at the back of his throat for the last two years coats your tongue as he sucks on it gently, your robe falling open as he pulls away. The back of his head hits the wall lightly, making him wince as your hand immediately cards through his hair and rubs at the spot.
“Can I touch?” He murmurs, his hands ghosting over the warmth of your skin as you nod. You move further into his space, your fingers pulling at the buckle of his belt and undoing it quickly. His hands are cautious as they shove your robe off your shoulders, the same small tattoo he'd bitten two years ago peering back at him as you pull his belt off and toss it to the side before kissing him again. Your lips are so soft against his, your hands proving desperate as you unbutton his jeans and shove his shirt out of the way to reveal the waistband of his boxers.
“Why are you so fucking dressed up?” You mutter against his lips as your fingertips slither under his shirt, and he smiles as one of his own find the lace of your panties snug to your hips, “you don’t need all these clothes to fuck me.”
“Believe it or not, I work, too.” He speaks between kisses, nipping at your lip with a soft growl in the back of his throat, “why do you taste like that? Did you touch yourself before I got here?”
“I always touch myself when I think of you,” you’re breathless as your fingers curl around his waistband, tugging uselessly. You pout as he laughs, “it’s true! I'm already halfway to getting in your pants, no need to lie. We’re all friends here.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends at all, actually.” He refutes, sliding his fingers under the fabric of your panties to cup a handful of your ass. His lips press open mouthed kisses to your neck, earning him those soft, soft groans he’s had daydreams about for the last two years as he scrapes his teeth against your skin. “I don’t typically fuck my friends, much less make them sign NDAs about it. And if we were friends...”
“You’d fuck me in your bed?” You interject, your fingertips pulling at his zipper and cupping his half-hard cock. He tries not to keen as you run a finger against him over the thin fabric, "you’d fuck me in your bed, right? Mark me up? Make me yours?”
“Wouldn’t be my friend if you were mine.” He tugs at the ends of your hair, a quipped gasp falling from your lips as he gives your ass a gentle squeeze. “You hear me?”
“Uh huh,” your fingertips are teasing at the waistband of his boxers, but he pulls your hand away, sliding his own back out from under your panties. He kisses the shell of your ear, your lips pouted as he squeezes your hips, “Minghao.”
“Show me how you touched yourself,” he whispers, your lips parting slightly as he physically turns you around. “Then maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
“Maybe?” “Maybe.”
“Cynical,” you huff, squealing as his fingertips land a soft smack against your ass. Your hands cover it as you scurry away, and he picks up his belt and follows, with a grin threatening to breach his lips. He doesn’t remember talking to you this much the first time (or even at the bar you met him at) but...the sound of your voice has something in it. Something...addictive. Erotic, even.
He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care to figure it out right now.
He pulls his coat off his shoulders as you pull your robe off fully, a tattoo across the dip of your spine new to his eyes and stark against the lace of your underwear. He stops what he’s doing, his eyes running over it as you glance over your shoulder at him.
Lucky.
“It’s new.” “I know.”
He doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his shirt over his head, toeing his shoes off as you move to sit on the bed. He watches the way your demeanor shifts slightly, a bit shy as your thumbs hook on the waistband of your underwear. He shakes his head, motioning for you to get on the bed, “all fours.”
“But I—” “Just wanna see that new tattoo, sweetheart. All fours, please.”
You oblige, carefully sprawling yourself on the bed as he asks. He moves closer, his fingers wrapping around your ankles and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. You move easily, your back smooth in the low lighting of your hotel room as he slides his hand up it, curling his fingers around the back of your neck. Your skin litters in goosebumps as you push your hips back, meeting his lightly as he bends slightly, pressing his lips to your hip. You shiver as his teeth scrape the skin of your hip, pulling gently at the fabric of your panties and sliding them down your thighs.
“I’m keeping these,” he says as he pulls them off entirely, shoving them in the back pocket of his jeans as you scoff.
“Pervert.” “You smell good. Show me.”
He peers down between your thighs, the swell of your ass covered by his hands as he spreads the cheeks carefully. Your hand covers you immediately, the sheen of arousal spread between your inner thighs as he smirks inwardly, “I haven’t even touched you.”
“You know I’m sensitive, shut up.” Your breathing is shaky as you drag your fingertips through your folds, spreading them lightly and circling your puffy clit. He sucks in a breath, his cock twitching beneath his boxers as your thighs slightly weaken at the stimulation. You bury your face in a pillow as you rub your clit in tight circles for him, shuddered whimpers wracking your body before you tease your hole with a finger. He leans forward slightly, enough that you can feel his breath as he drops a wad of spit on your pussy. You jolt as he presses a kiss to the curve of your ass, “come on, pretty. Make yourself cum for me.”
Your whine rings in his ears, making him bite down on his lip as he runs his hands up and down the back of your thighs, “so pretty when you’re touching yourself, huh? Like putting on a show for me?”
“Minghao...” your voice trails off as he watches you slip a finger in and then another, a breathy chuckle falling from his lips as he kneels behind you. He kisses the side of your foot, trailing his lips up your ankle as he watches your juices coat your fingers. He kisses up your calf, dragging his lips up your thigh as they shake.
“So close already? Tsk,” he mocks you as he presses a kiss to the curve of your ass, then another. He switches to the other side, watching your hand still as if to stave it off before he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “can’t do it yourself?”
“Hao,” you’re whining, your fingers slipping out to spread your pussy for him to see. He smiles inwardly as your hole clenches around nothing, begging for something in it as he sinks his teeth into the meat of your ass. You only groan, pushing your hips back as he laps his tongue over the marks of his teeth before your fingers find your clit again, tracing slow circles into it as he kisses them. He takes them into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as the taste of you coats his tongue. He presses a kiss to your fingertips before pushing your hand away, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling your cunt to his face.
“Please, please...” your hips are pushing back, and he can’t deny you anything as he presses a tentative kiss to your clit, covering his lips in your arousal. He flattens his tongue against it, licking long, languid strokes through your folds to taste you entirely. His lips wrap around your clit carefully, sucking it into his mouth as your hand reaches back and finds his hair. Your thighs are a shaking mess as he holds onto you tighter, his cock painfully hard against his boxers and aching for release – threatening to come undone at the mere taste of you paired with your soft thank you, thank you, thank you.
He pulls away abruptly, using his strength to flip you onto your back before diving back in. Your thighs threaten to clamp shut around his head, but he doesn’t care as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers as he brings you closer to the edge. Your voice is barely audible with the flesh of your thighs pressed against his ears, your fingers tangled in his hair once more as you come undone on his tongue.
He keeps his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out gently as your thighs fall apart, trembling as he works you over with his tongue again.
“H-Hao—” “You can give me another. Just one more, then I’ll fuck you. Yeah?”
Your legs must feel like jelly the way you spread them limply for him, your cunt covered in his spit and your cum as he slips his fingers out to smear your juices around. A soft gasp falls as he slides them back in with a coo, his lips pressing a kiss to your clit.
“Messy,” he murmurs, biting his lip at the wet squelching sound you make around his lithe fingers. He can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or not, your hips grinding against his hand lazily as he peppers kisses across your hips. He nips at the skin, sucking soft marks as your whimpers fill the air, “greedy, too. Just taking everything I give you, huh? Such a good girl for me.”
Your reply is too quiet for him to hear, and he pushes off his knees, trailing kisses up your soft belly as your fingers rake through his hair. He plants his free hand next to your head as he feels himself press against your inner thigh, before his tongue slides in the valley of your breasts. He kisses the flesh carefully, open-mouthed as he makes his way up your throat. Your breathing is all soft pants and bitten moans as your swollen lips are shiny with spit. Your face is flushed as he kisses up your jaw, biting your earlobe lightly and making your eyes open slightly. They’re hazy, watery as your lashes are coated with tears of pleasure as he kisses the side of your face, your pussy clamping around his fingers as his lips ghost over yours.
“Tell me you missed me.” His mouth brushes yours as you nod silently, “nah, not like that. Tell me. Tell me you missed my cock inside you.”
He knows it’s not the same thing, but it’s all he’s got in the moment as your eyes widen, his thumb pressing against your clit as a choked sound falls from your lips. You cant your hips up, but he stills his fingers as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, “say it.”
“Missed your cock inside me,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him. He lets you, slotting his lips with yours chastely as you wrap one leg around his hip, “missed feeling you. Haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
The admission, fake or not, makes his fingers start moving again, your eyes rolling slightly before you shut them. You kiss him again, your hand gripping the ends of his hair between your fingers as if to keep yourself grounded. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, a groan from your lips as you taste yourself all over him, your pussy clamping around his fingers at it. He smirks into your kiss, gently rutting his cock against your thigh as you coat his fingers again with a shuddered whine.
Your hand shoves his fingers away as they circle your clit, shaking your head as you snap the waistband of his underwear against his hip, “take them off. Wanna feel you.”
You pull his fingers into your mouth, slipping your tongue between them and collecting your juices off his skin. His eyes are glued to your lips, swollen and bitten from his teeth as his other hand cups your breast, running his thumb over your nipple and smiling inwardly at the way your back arches off the mattress lightly. Your ankle kicks his hip lightly as you pull off his fingers with a pop, and he pushes off the mattress to reach into his pocket for his wallet.
Not a single condom in sight.
“Shit,” he mutters, and you sit up, pointing at something on the nightstand. He glances at it – a pink pill case. Slots reading Monday through Sunday...
“You’re clean, yeah?” You lean back on your elbows, your chest heaving slightly and your skin shiny with a layer of sweat. He nods, and you gesture at his jeans with your foot, the French tip pedicure glossy in the low light, “so take it off.”
He wastes no time shucking off his pants and underwear in one go, hissing softly as his underwear brushes over his leaking cock. You sink your teeth into your lower lip as he wraps his hand around himself, a soft laugh slipping out as he slots himself between your legs.
“What’s so funny?” He asks as he spreads beads of his precum through your folds, a soft breath falling from your lips as you feel his tip bump your clit. You shake your head, “nothing.”
“Tell me.” “...Just nice to see you so worked up over going down on me.”
“That’s the way it should be,” he scoffs, forcing himself to focus as he grinds his cock against you, slick and messy with you all over his shaft. “God, missed this pussy.”
“Just her?” Your voice is airy as he pulls you to the edge of the mattress, your leg resting against his body and your foot against his cheek. He presses a kiss to the side of it, his other hand spreading your thighs apart to peer at your bare cunt against him.
“Gotta miss you to miss this, you know. One plus one.” He grinds down against you harder, brushing his lips against your ankle as he feels your hole clench around nothing, empty and wanting for him.
“Not always the case.” “You’ve plagued me for the last two years, shut up.”
His voice is lacking confidence as he feels himself grow close just from the feeling of you against him, feeling his limbs slightly fuzzy as he takes his cock in his hand, his tip circling your hole carefully.
“I won’t last very long,” he admits softly, and you tilt your hips up, his tip barely dipping inside you. He sinks in fully, his hips flush to yours as you clamp around him like a vice. A whine gets caught in his throat, annoyed at himself for being so close at the feeling of you – so wet and warm and delicious. “Shit.”
“Fuck me,” you mewl, his hands moving to wrap around your thighs and pin you in place. He gives a roll of his hips, muffling his groan by sinking his teeth into your calf. You’re trying to move against him, but he gives a harsh thrust, hitting that spongy spot inside you and making your back arch up off the bed. Your hands trail up your body, cupping the bottom of your breasts before running your fingers over your hardened nipples. He watches you through hooded eyes, fucking his cock into you at a menacing pace that makes you whimper his name sinfully. He rests his head against your leg, kissing the skin of it as you continue to touch yourself, rolling your nipple through your fingers as his lips ache to be wrapped around them.
He splays his hands on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart as he bends at the waist, dragging his tongue up from your navel and between your breasts before your hand finds home in his hair as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, shivering at how hard you clench around him, your walls fluttering as your moans fill his head. He feels like it’s swimming, intoxicated with the smell and taste of you all over him as he switches sides, scraping the neglected bud lightly with his teeth and earning a tug of your fingers in his hair, his groan covering your skin as he laps at the peak gently.
“Want you to cum inside me,” you breathe out, “fill me up. Please.”
He doesn’t respond, trying to stave himself off as his hips threaten to stutter. Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging down slightly and he has to force himself to rip them away and pin them next to your head. He finds your lips, “can’t use your pretty nails. Have a show next week, baby.”
You pout against his lips, kissing him slowly as he sinks lower against you, your chest flush to his. His hand slips out of yours, running between your bodies and curling around your hip as he sinks into your kiss. It’s slow and sensual, your legs wrapping around his hips and locking your ankles at the dip of his spine as his cock twitches inside you.
“Feel so good,” his face is buried in your neck, his hand on your hip slipping between your thighs to circle your clit and make you finish before him. You’re a whining mess under him, his eyes squeezing shut as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, feeling the rush of your orgasm dripping down his thighs and soaking the mattress as he spills inside you. Your chest is heaving in tandem with his as he rocks his hips into you, working you into overstimulation as your moans grow weak.
“S’too much,” you’re barely speaking above a whisper, and he covers your mouth with his as he stops, his hips flush to yours as he kisses you softly. You try to keep up, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close as his hands circle your knees, pushing them to your chest before carefully pulling out. He pulls away from your lips with a chaste kiss, his eyes glancing at the mess of you and him between your thighs.
He feels his cheeks hot as he looks back up at you, an embarrassed look glazing your eyes as you clear your throat.
“...I didn’t even say hello when I walked in.” He says suddenly, and you cover your mouth with your hand as you bite back a sound akin to a snort. He presses your knees together, “hi.”
“Hey,” you laugh, running your hand through your hair. “It’s...nice to see you.”
“Cut the shit,” he scoffs, and you only laugh harder as your arms cover your chest. He smiles inwardly, pressing his forehead to your knees, “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Me either, but I’m not mad about it.” You wipe at your eyes, before scrunching your nose, “I’m gonna have to ask to get the sheets changed and they’re gonna know I got laid.”
You cover your face with a pillow, letting out a groan of embarrassment as he laughs, “you’re an adult and you had a visitor. I’m sure they didn’t think we were just going to talk.”
“Speaking of, you got here fast. Desperate to see me?” You lift the pillow just enough to show him the wiggle of your brows, only for him to tongue his lip and land a soft smack on your ass. You squeal, swatting his hand away as he turns his nose up, “I was taught never to keep a lady waiting.”
“And you sure didn’t,” you tease, making him stick his tongue out at you as his hands slide down your thighs. He gives them a soft squeeze as you toss the pillow aside, stretching your arms over your head. You’re still covered with his spit and blooming nips of his teeth, “kind of a funny reunion, huh?”
“The NDA is up in two weeks, otherwise I would’ve used it to get out of throwing that damn first pitch.” He admits, looking around before spotting a towel on the vanity. You snicker as he grabs it, carefully wiping you down. You wince here and there, before sitting up on your elbows, “there’s more towels in the bathroom, if you want to...shower before you go.”
“I can’t promise it won’t get frisky if we’re both in there,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your knee.
“Who said I was joining you?” “The fact that you probably can’t even stand up on your own.”
“Damn, got me there.” You sigh, his fingers massaging into the flesh of your thighs instinctively. A silence settles over you both, your eyes meeting as he smooths his palms against your skin. He squeezes carefully, "should we skip the small talk?"
You don't respond, merely spreading your knees with a quirk of your brow. He rolls his eyes, pinching your thigh gently and making you suck in a breath, "use words."
"I don't know what we are or what we're doing, if that's what you want to know," you say pointedly as he kneels back on the bed, his hands holding your knees apart as he scans your face. "I don't even know why I came to Shanghai. I don't plan ahead, I don't think twice. I just do it. I just go."
"So, you're reckless." "I'm spontaneous."
"You're full of shit," he snorts, making you smirk as you shrug, opting to lay back against the bed with your arms crossed behind your head. His hands slid up your thighs, squeezing the soft dip of your hips carefully. You shrug again, hooking a finger around the dangling silver chain and giving it a soft tug.
"I'd say I'm a spontaneous young woman with a promising career and good taste in sexual deviants," you nod slowly, and he has to bite back the smile threatening to spread on his lips as he hovers over you. He presses his lips to yours chastely, feeling the warmth flushing on your cheeks as he cups your face gently.
"Sexual deviant, huh?" "Sorry, do you prefer fuck buddy?"
"Shut up," he mutters against your lips, slotting them with his and swallowing the limp attempt at a chuckle from your throat. You card your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots as you kiss him eagerly. You're just as smooth with your tongue as you were then, carefully licking into his mouth as his hand wandered down between your bodies, wrapping around his cock. You spread your thighs further for him without breaking the kiss, and he smiles against your parted lips as he slides the tip of his cock through your slick folds. "Give me one for the road."
"Let me get on top." "Whatever you want, baby."
MINGHAO DIDN'T END UP LEAVING YOUR HOTEL ROOM UNTIL AN HOUR BEFORE YOU DID.
He'd spent the entire night and most of the next day between your thighs, if not holding you flush to him in the shower and washing your hair for you. Conversations were fulfilling though limited, often interrupted by a pair of lips kissing some expanse of skin — he ignores the coil in his stomach when he thinks about the sweet taste of your lip balm fading as the night went on.
Another Monday night of parting felt…laughable, honestly. He snorted at himself as he shoved himself into the black taxi he ordered, letting you kiss him goodbye one too many times for it to just be casual. Your scent lingered on his lips, his skin, and he felt exactly the same way he did when he left Osaka before you did — six hours earlier, pressing a lingering kiss to your soft mouth and wishing you a safe flight.
He'd done the same then, but he let you get carried away. He let you pull him in again, he almost let you take his pants off again but managed to get himself together before you could. You were almost too tempting, and it made his skin prickle as you watched from your door as he walked down the hall to the elevator. He stepped into it, thankful that there wasn't an awkward wait before waving again. He heard your laugh ring out before the doors closed, and he closed his eyes, gripping the railing and taking a deep breath.
This doesn't mean anything.
Just two people blowing off steam with someone that knows what the other likes.
He knows you prefer receiving oral, you know he prefers giving it. He knows that you're not into edging, rather overstimulation, he knows that you like to be held closely afterwards. He knows you like to be kissed breathless, that you like to be bitten, nipped at, suckled on…
That you would rather be on top and control the narrative — but you know he craves that same control, grappling at the ends of his sanity the same way you do.
The spotlight is something you both share, and though in different lights…you understand each other. Flashing cameras, winded magazine articles, online criticism forums — neither of you discuss your professional lives in depth. He knows you like to dabble in drinking with friends or long nights out to distract from the giant baseball career weighing on your back, you know he disappears completely into EDM parties and recording sessions to duck out of the blinding runway lights.
There is an unspoken comfort, an unvoiced observance that gives you both the answers you seek about one another.
And yet, he still rolls his eyes when he finds himself wanting to hear your voice.
He hasn't seen you since that Monday in Shanghai. It's been a total of four days, and he made a pit-stop in Seoul before Seokmin, Seungkwan and Soonyoung hauled him to Daegu in the back of an unmarked SUV that felt suspiciously like a kidnapping — he eyed them with more suspicion as they whispered on and on within themselves before flashing him falsely reassuring smiles.
Your schedule was packed; you'd done a handful of interviews, a few features in magazines and updated your Instagram profile since. In which he saw himself, once more, riddled in the crevices of your photos. The same Shanghai skyline photo you'd taken, a few snapshots of beautifully plated dishes, you in fitting rooms and hanging out with blurred friends…
And a singular photo of you in the steamy bathroom mirror right after he'd washed your hair — clad in a loose pair of blueberry-print pajamas and a blur of his (accidentally) scratched back. You apologized for the nail marks, he just shook his head and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your apologies and pressing you into the tile. He winced when the hot water hit his skin, your fingers squeezing his hip gently before you lathered gentle soap over the expanse of the lean muscle.
You had taken it after he kissed you for an hour until the water ran cool, wandering hands spreading soapy suds all over each other. After he'd grimaced at the bruising of his teeth littered on your skin, a mark sucked deep on your inner thigh. After he'd brushed his teeth next to you — the second toothbrush and his collection of jewelry glistening in the corner of the photo. The carousel has a soft song over top — Heart Burn by Sunmi, again.
diamonddazed: i hope i'll be home to you someday, even if shanghai is the closest i'll ever get to it.
You posted it just after he landed in Seoul at two-something in the morning, and was clambered into the SUV by his team. He stared at the photo for fifteen minutes, sat in the back of the van before closing his eyes and shamelessly double tapping the screen. He turned his phone off right after, sliding it into the cup holder and settling his neck into the travel pillow Seungkwan had slid over his shoulders.
They'd been far too awake for two in the morning.
The team kept the curtains drawn, but he couldn't sleep — opting to stare out the sunroof as dawn crept in, his eyes burning with fatigue. Seokmin typed away on his laptop next to Minghao, eyes low as they peered at the screen's low brightness. He clicked around, rubbing his face once or twice before Minghao reached over and blindly closed the laptop. Seokmin sighed, settling his rigid shoulders into the stiff leather seats.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," he says softly, and Minghao peels an eye open as far as he can with a shrug, "I have a pit in my stomach."
"Tomorrow is a short day, don't worry. We'll have all day to rest up today." "When does the game happen?" "Six, but we'll be there by four to get you situated with everyone. Take some pictures, get some refreshments, maybe have one of the players help on your form. You might not care about baseball, but it's important you leave a good impression."
"I assume this was all said in that groupchat with Seungcheol?" He murmurs back, lolling his head against the seat as Seokmin nods, "and Y/N."
"I'm sorry?" "Y/N Kim. The pitcher? She's in the group."
Minghao feigns confusion, shrugging before closing his eyes. He feels his cheeks warm at the memory of your lips on his, your fingers carding through his hair with a rough tug that made him sink his teeth into the column of your throat.
"Right. Is she nice?" "Yes, very. She'll be at dinner with Seungcheol with us, but she won't be staying there like we will." "Cool, cool…anyone else I should know about?"
"Sure," he shrugs, crossing his arms on his chest. He eyes Minghao hard enough that the younger man can feel it, prompting him to look over, "mhm?"
"Jeonghan flew in." Seokmin raises a brow, and Minghao snorts, "Jeonghan? What for? We have a show."
"Because Seungcheol asked him to." "You'd think those two would have tied the knot by now." "Someone's dragging their feet and it's not Jeonghan."
"Ooh, messy," Minghao chuckles, shaking his head, "I forget they're dating at times."
"Don't we all," Seokmin stretches his legs as best as he can, wincing as soreness creeps up his thighs from the cramped seat. "I'm just hoping they'll do it sooner rather than later. Jeonghan's impatient and Seungcheol keeps pushing it back with things happening in their careers. I wouldn't be surprised if Seungcheol flew to Tokyo with us at this point."
"The more the merrier."
The rest of the ride is splattered with small talk — the weather, what does Minghao want to wear, is he comfortable staying at Seungcheol's house instead of a hotel…but none of it really registers. Minghao gives half-assed answers, bunching his blanket high on his lap when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Seokmin has dozed off, his cheek mushed against his own travel pillow as Minghao digs his phone out of his pocket.
NEW! 3 Messages from: Y/N [5:29 AM] Hiii [5:29 AM] Cheollie told me you're staying with him? Is that true? [5:29 AM] I miss you.
He bites back his smile, tonguing his lip as he quickly types a few responses out. He sends them off, pressing his thumb to his lips as he watches the read receipt pop up almost immediately.
Message To: Y/N [5:30 AM] Five in the morning, shouldn't you be in bed? [5:30 AM] Yes, we're staying with Seungcheol. I don't know why but I'm not complaining, either. [5:30 AM] And to say you miss me…feels like a lie, hm?
NEW! 3 Messages from: Y/N [5:30 AM] I am in bed, Mr. Xu. Just checking in 👀 [5:30 AM] Seungcheol invited me to dinner tomorrow after the game but I haven't given him an answer in case you don't want me there. [5:30 AM] Maybe I'm a little tipsy but I still mean it. Come see me if you want…I'd love to see you.
He can picture you sprawled on your bedsheets in those soft pajamas you like. Freshly washed hair, with the taste of soju on the tip of your tongue — he'd seen you in Mingyu's Instagram story earlier that night with Jihyo and Tzuyu, huddled over a steaming hot pot and clinking shot glasses together.
You'd looked pretty. The strap of your dress had fallen down your shoulder, and you were squished against Jihyo's smiling face with all your teeth gleaming in the flash of the camera, plump lips slick with gloss and those very same nails that dragged down his back.
Message To: Y/N [5:32 AM] And I'd love to come see you but I'm on zero sleep. I'd be of no use to your needs. [5:33 AM] But…come to dinner. Wear something pretty.
Your message comes in almost instantly.
NEW! 2 Messages From: Y/N [5:33 AM] Come see me anyway. I only live down the block from Seungcheol, you can lie and say you're getting breakfast at the convenience store across from me. [5:33 AM] Please.
Minghao chews on his lip — glancing up to the dashboard and seeing that he'll be in Seungcheol's neighborhood in less than three minutes. He doesn't think about it too much; silently transferring a shirt and pair of sleep pants into his backpack as Seokmin snores softly.
He'll make up an excuse later.
Getting out of Seungcheol's house is a lot easier than anticipated. His team was far too tired to question why he was so awake, and he helped them all settle in Seungcheol's spare rooms. Seungcheol and Jeonghan were getting tipsy on the back deck, and Minghao let them know he'd be slipping out for a second. Seungcheol glanced at him, eyes glassy as he gave him a soft smile.
"Y/N's gate code is 1-1-0-9." He sang quietly, and Minghao only feigned amusement, ruffling the older man's hair before ducking out the enormous front doors. He shoved his hands in his pockets, thankful for the chilly air that kept him alert as he made his way down to your house. You'd been telling him you'd fall asleep if he didn't get there soon — and he wonders if you've fallen asleep when he stands in front of the heavy steel gates of your home. He glances around, nibbling on his lip before flipping the gate pad open and typing in the numbers Seungcheol had teased him with.
The gates unlock with a clunk, and he slips in and shuts it with his foot. He makes sure the lock has moved back in place before glancing up, seeing you standing at the open glass doors. Your pajamas are rumpled and you're squinting in the morning sun, your hand covering your eyebrows as he makes his way up the mosaic path made of colorful stones.
"You're unbelievable," he greets, fighting back a smile as you grin brightly. You're still clearly tipsy, the sway in your stance amusing as he steadies you carefully when you reach your arms out to him. He reaches one hand back to close and lock your front door; the other carding through your hair as you hum in satisfaction, resting your chin on his chest as you wrap your arms around his waist. "Still tipsy?"
"Oh, I got hammered. I can't tell you how I'm standing right now." "On your legs." "You're really annoying."
"Yet, you begged me to come over." Minghao chides, his fingers settling on the back of your neck as you give him a deadpan look, "begged is hyperbole, Mr. Xu. Take your shoes off."
"Hyperbole, understatement…it's whatever you say, sweetheart." He shrugs as he toes off his shoes, and you do the same, puckering your lips cutely. He rolls his eyes, craning his neck to press a chaste kiss to them; the minty scent of toothpaste wafting off. You twist out of his hold, sliding your fingers in his and tugging him towards the back of the house.
The common areas say more about you than he could've ever figured — dozens, if not hundreds of photos and memories scatter the baby blue walls from crown molding to baseboards. Huge art pieces are tastefully hung around the living room, gorgeous Tiffany lamps on glossy side tables, a beautiful deep sapphire sofa set with soft throw blankets. A pair of cream pillows with golden stitching are strewn on the recliner in the corner, the coffee table exhibiting an open book with highlighter and annotations next to a journal with blue ink scrawled across the lined pages.
"This is my humble abode, you can get a tour later." You hoot, pulling him through a dimmer hallway. The walls are painted a deep cherry red behind the quilted sapele shelves of vinyls, a player atop a barely open matching credenza. If he peeked inside, he'd see even more vinyls — retired ones you no longer played until you remember that one good song, what was it? I think I have the record!
Your bedroom is nothing like what he'd expect from you. The walls are forest green, the curtains dark brown and the blinds drawn. Your bed is in the middle of the room, surrounded by stunning zebrano furniture. Your ceiling boasts a massive fan, the blades shaped like moth wings and spinning slowly. The walls are covered with baseball paraphernalia, rock music posters, a Catwoman poster next to your closet and another vinyl — Hold The Girl by Rina Sawayama, hung directly above another player.
"Do you like?" You ask, your hair still in disarray as you tilt your head. He nods slowly, "very cool. Earthy…a little dark."
"I'm gonna have a massive hangover. Gotta keep it dark for now." "Oh, no doubt babe." "Not your babe."
"True," he says pointedly, glancing down at you. You're pouting, and he coos; lithe fingers tucking your hair behind your ears. He toys with the earrings speckled about the shells, a gold hoop catching his attention as he fiddles with it, "what's with the face?"
"You didn't call." "Ahh…did you want me to?" "…Maybe. I don't know."
You shrug, toying with the strings of his sweatpants. He hums, smoothing his hand over your hair before pressing his lips to your forehead, "we can talk about this later, yeah? When you're not tipsy and I'm not about to pass out."
"We could, yeah." You agree quietly, dropping your hands from his clothes and gesturing towards the bathroom, "that way. You can change or shower, too, I set some stuff out in case you did."
"Can barely stand but is a good host. Very redeeming." "Careful, you'll fall in love with me and I don't quite feel like cleaning up that mess."
He chuckles, pinching your cheek as you swat at his hip. He makes his way to the bathroom, the door ajar as he slips in. He hears you shuffling around, likely making yourself comfortable as he flicks the light on — a soft yellow light illuminates a stone shower with a smooth bench and golden fixtures. There's a fluffy white towel on the sink, a new toothbrush laid out next to it with a small array of travel toiletries. He tongues his cheek, glancing at himself in the mirror — more pictures of you and your friends. Polaroids taken in that very bathroom tucked neatly into the corners of the mirror's frame. Mingyu, Tzuyu, Hansol, Jihyo. A bunch of other people he's met in passing — Yoo Jeongyeon (a singer-songwriter), Jeon Wonwoo (a photographer for Cherry Jubilee)…
Wen Junhui, his life-long best friend and an actor — also a model on his limited free time for Cherry Jubilee and the face of Tzuyu's Lazy Baby menswear. He raises a brow, filing the photo away in his mind as he strips to get in the shower.
He doesn't let himself think much as he goes through the motions of his routine, opting to get in quick and get out quicker. He brushes his teeth, opting to towel dry his hair so as to not wake you if you're already asleep. He glances at the pictures once more, his eyes lingering on Junhui's squished cheek with yours before flicking the light off and ducking back out.
You're curled into a ball, facing away from the bathroom but the duvet is pulled back where he assumes you want him to lay down. You stir slightly, your hand blindly reaching behind you as he slips onto the mattress. Your fingers brush his shirt, quickly bunching it in your hand as you pull him down. He bites back his smile, sinking into the bed behind you and pulling the duvet over his hips. Your hand grabs his, interlacing your fingers and holding them to your chest.
"Can I ask you something?" He murmurs, and you hum, nodding as he curls himself around you, holding himself up on his elbow. He peers down at you, biting back his smile at the way your lashes kiss your cheeks. "What's your walk-up song?"
You snort, letting out a tired laugh as you peel an eye open, raking it over his face as he leans over you. He presses his lips to your cheek, the warmth of your skin flushing against his, "it's When I Grow Up by The Pussycat Dolls."
"You've always known you'd be a big deal, huh?" "I was made for this. Now, sleep. Hold me."
He snickers, planting a kiss to your temple as you hum. Your hand is tight around his, high on your chest as he buries your face in the back of your neck, a thin necklace brushing his lips. Your skin smells of pears and lilies, an underlying powder scent filling his nose as he sighs, letting his body sag into the mattress.
He doesn't bother thinking about how he could fall in love with you.
And maybe, already has.
THE BALL PARK IS MASSIVE — MINGHAO CAN'T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME HE'D SEEN SOMETHING SO ARTIFICIALLY GREEN.
He's still peeking out through one of the hallways, basking in the chill of the air conditioning that will disappear the moment he steps onto the field. There's people sitting in the stands that aren't exactly customers. There's managers, photographers, even interviews happening right on the turf. Some players are dressed fully, caps set backwards and casualness drifting off their set-back shoulders — and then there's you, in black shorts and a Daegu Diamonds Training Camp t-shirt and standing at the mound.
A woman in standing in front of you but he knows its you — red nails, now trimmed short, digging into your arms as you cross them on your chest. She's got you looking up, passing a fluffy brush under your eyes before allowing you to step back from her. Your lips have that same gloss carefully glimmering under the lights, and your hair is slicked back with a sheen of gel — but he can't focus on just you as more people surround you. A taller man hands you a ball of many in his bag and a permanent marker, making you talk about one thing or another as you're scribbling your autograph on the composite leather.
"That's Y/N Kim." Seokmin's voice is suddenly in his ear, as is the slosh of the ice in a drink. Minghao glances down, seeing Seokmin holding a Daegu Diamonds Collectible cup filled to the brim with lemonade and covered with a clear lid — and a jersey draped over his arm with a matching one resting on his shoulders.
"Guess you're having the time of your life, huh?" Minghao chuckles, and Seokmin shrugs as he holds the jersey out to him. It's a crisp white with the signature powder blue and navy grey details of the Daegu Diamonds logo, and it's not sporting any of the autographs that Seokmin's is. "You earn those stripes?"
"You know it," Seokmin sips his drink, before gesturing around the park. "I spent my weekends growing up driving all around the country with my parents to see the Diamonds play. Got the shirt big so it'd fit forever. Look at me now, close with the players and with season tickets! Oh…and bringing you along!"
"Aww, you're sweet," Minghao chuckles as he rolls his eyes, carefully taking the jersey and pulling it over his shirt. He doesn't bother buttoning it, opting to look around the park from his spot in the hall, "we'll be in the audience during the game?"
"And we're having dinner with Seungcheol and Y/N before we fly out tomorrow at noon. The other teammates have plans, and a few are actually going out to Japan to see you strut your stuff," Seokmin bumps Minghao's hip with his, before the crunch of cleats and your voice traveling catches his attention.
"It was incredible! Shanghai never disappoints me," your laugh is soft as you're suddenly in front of him and Seokmin. Your eyes are wide as you feign surprise, extending your hand to him, "you must be…Minghao. I heard I was going to meet you today."
"Xu Minghao, yes. He's throwing your first pitch today!" Seokmin beams beside him, as Minghao carefully takes your hand as though he hadn't pinned it by your head only a week earlier. You gave his a soft squeeze, "you're even more ethereal in person."
"Haven't heard that one yet." Minghao smiles gently, making you roll your eyes. "Y/N Kim. I've heard a lot about…you."
"You don't know a thing about baseball." "Not nearly as much as I know about soccer." "Zero times zero is still zero, Mr. Xu."
"Sense of humor, I like her," Minghao looks over his shoulder at Seokmin. He's got that twinkle in his eye that Minghao has learned to recognize when he wants to say something he shouldn't. "Whatever you're thinking—"
"I'm not thinking anything! Y/N, beloved, teach this guy a thing or two." Seokmin pats Minghao's shoulder, before his eyes catch your hand still holding his. "You can't hold hands, rumors will fly."
"Not a baseball player and a model, what would the people say?" You pretend to be scandalized, but effectively drop Minghao's hand to hold your own to his chest. "Xu Minghao steps into the Diamond Life…pretty catchy headline."
"I'll leave you two to this…odd mating dance," Seokmin turns on his heel, and Minghao almost turns to face you before Seokmin turns once more, "oh, don't let me forget…I'll ask why you're both wrapped up in an NDA dated back two years after the game."
Your face reads like a book — and Seokmin only smiles before holding his phone up.
"Don't CC me next time!" He beams, walking backwards before turning around and calling Seungcheol's name, the captain whipping his head over to see him bounding over. Minghao gingerly reaches over and closes your mouth, his knuckle tapping your chin as a sheepish smile spreads on his lips.
"I may or may not have forgotten that my email is automatically set to do that." He says softly, and you cross your arms with what he can't discern is playful or serious disappointment. He matches your expression easily, "hey, it's no better than you soft-launching us on your Instagram! My back, my jewelry, my jacket—"
"You don't even follow me on there! How could you possibly—"
"You're involved in so many people's lives that are important to me. It's only common sense that you'd eventually make that team, too." He states firmly, and you make no move to hide the way a soft smile is spreading on your lips. "Stop."
"Aw, I'm important to you?" "Y/N." "Invite me to your show in Tokyo."
You're almost too close, your hands clasped behind your back as you bat your lashes at him. He scoffs out a laugh, cheeks warming at the proximity as he realizes people around you give absolutely zero fucks about either of you.
He could kiss you and no one would care.
He wants to. And he wants them to care and he wants to brag.
"Don't you have to go practice or something?" Minghao's voice is much less confident with you in his face, his eyes flickering down to your lips as you pout. His knees feel slightly weak, "don't do that."
"Invite me to your show, Minghao." "I already know that Jeonghan gave you a ticket on my behalf." "True…but I want to hear it from you."
He rolls his eyes, his hands finding home on your hips and pulling you slightly closer. You easily drape your arms over his shoulders, peering at him through your lashes with a shy smile, "I missed you."
"You saw me yesterday. In your bed, mind you." "Mmh…but you didn't kiss me before you left." "Didn't know our NDA required goodbye kisses."
You press your lips to his gently, his arms tightening around your waist as he nips at your lower lip, "come to my show."
"Say please and I might even let you—" "We're in public. Please come to my show and tell me I look pretty."
You only smile against his lips, "can I soft launch on Instagram again?"
"If that's what you need to do to ease me into the Diamond Life." "Come on, loser. I can't have my NDA partner embarrassing himself on the mound. Today, pitcher. Tomorrow…supermodel. What a life you live."
Minghao hadn't bothered to hide the way your thigh was thrown over his at dinner, and neither of you explained anything to Seokmin — it was easy to figure out. Seungcheol and Jeonghan had fun dissecting your vague Instagram posts, finding details of Minghao in almost any and every post — including the orchid-stamped signet ring that was in almost every single one of your posts. Minghao doesn't know how he missed it, but all he knows is that he'd really missed you.
It's been three days since the show.
You'd sat quietly, dressed in a beautiful red dress from Tzuyu's unreleased Lazy Baby Spring collection — and that same dress was featured hanging in the back of one of the photos in Minghao's latest Instagram post. Along with a snapshot (courtesy of Jeonghan) of your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans while the two of you roamed Tokyo, a cropped picture of your friends all crowded together in a too-small booth for a delicious dinner…
And a picture of your hands interlaced, with a new, matching orchid-stamped signet ring on his finger — all of it set to Heartburn by Sunmi.
xuminghao_o: home, no matter where we are. ↳ 💬 diamonddazed: welcome to the diamond life, lover ♡
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