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₊˚.༄ ATEEZ boyfriend texts ft. JONGHO
note: can you tell he’s my bias? my goat? my man? my everything?
warnings: MDNI, suggestive, ‘baby’ as a petname, jokingly mean to san and yunho, cursing.
requests are open! feel free to ask for tags.
other versions: hongjoong | seonghwa | yunho | yeosang | san | mingi | wooyoung
🏷️: @seodwae @teaxkaisen @xoxiaojun @ateezwink @aaa-sia
when you call him your husband
☆ ── tw. ; established relationships, kissing, petnames (baby, love, princess...), some mention of anxiety, a pinch of them getting handsy, just a lot of fluffiness, lmk if I missed anything!!
홍중 ── HONGJOONG
you had just gotten back from a shopping spree with your friends, and while you were with them, they were telling you about this trend that's going around where girls are calling their boyfriends their husbands. yeji even went as far as to show you a few of the videos, all three of you giggling at some of the guys' reactions. soojin then went on about how you should try it on hongjoong, and your heart flipped a little, already knowing how flustered he would get.
"c'mon i wanna know what his reaction would be!" yeji excalimed, dropping her phone and nearly shaking you like a ragdoll while you tried to stiffle your laughter.
"okay, okay, i'll do it," you told her through your fit of laughter, and both of the girls broke out into cheers, earning a few glares from those in the cafe, and you quietly apologized before scolding them.
so you went home that evening with a small pep in your step, ready to enact your little prank. hongjoong was already home when you got there, in his studio, working on yet another soundtrack. however, you knew that he would be in there for a while, so you decided to make dinner and take it in to him.
⊹₊⟡⋆Reposts OT8
Ateez fake texts-Maknae Line
Pairing: bf!ot8 x reader (separate)
Warnings: suggestive, sexual content MDNI, language, teasing, fluff. Kinks and fantasies, mentions of the Omegaverse (I have 0.01 knowledge of this please don’t come for me-we also listen and don’t judge)
About: your bf finds your reposts
SC: 21-Bonus texts at the end:) (I couldn’t decide)
Note: Requested! Also, typo in Wooyoung’s bonus, we would like to lick Han jisungs neck, not like it but all the same 👅
Hyung Line
Masterlist
⊹₊⟡⋆San
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⊹ 𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘇
pairing﹢ateez x fem!reader genre﹢sfw. fluff, established relationship, lovesick, and caring ateez. synopsis﹢as the saying goes, "little things mean a lot," or things they do to show you that they care about you and love you more than anything.
HONGJOONG always finds a way to match you with him, whether it's with a bracelet, a ring, or even a little charm on your bag. he’ll never outright say it, but it’s his way of showing everyone you’re his. whenever he shops, even if it’s just a quick trip to look at fabrics or accessories, always comes back with something for you: a hairpin, a clip, maybe a new pair of sunglasses he swears will look amazing on you, because he keeps losing himself in your eyes (his words, not yours).
sometimes he uses fashion as an excuse to touch you. for example, he loves brushing his fingers through your hair, clipping something in place, straightening your collar, or fixing your necklace. and sometimes you do feel like a doll once his hands touch you in such a gentle manner, you let him, because if there’s anyone you trust with your appearance, it’s him.
but nothing prepared you for the way he looked at you that day. you’d slipped on one of his oversized jackets, styled it with your own flavor. his entire face lit up, a wide grin breaking across his lips, eyes sparkling like he’d just found the most precious gem in the world.
“what?” you asked, tugging at the hem nervously. “is there something wrong with the fit?”
he shook his head instantly, still staring like he's falling in love again after being shot with cupid's arrow. “no, love,” he murmured, voice instantly going into that soft pitch, trying to defend himself. “you just… you look so good in my clothes. how am i supposed to focus on anything else when you’re standing there like that?” and from then on, he secretly hoped you’d steal his clothes more often.
“Personal Blanket” ── c.j.h
── established relationship, idol!jongho x reader
You show up on Jongho’s dorm couch without warning because you have run out of places to be “fine.”
Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff WC: 2.7k
Mon’s Note: to all my Jongho girlies who’ve been left starving for soft boyfriend Jongho—this one’s for you.
Jongho showed up with no warning and all certainty, like the universe had finally decided you’d been through enough.
You were curled up on his dorm couch—unannounced, shoes tucked by the door like you belonged there—half wrapped in a blanket burrito with your phone balanced on your stomach. The living room was dim and quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy.
The lock clicked.
A beat of silence. Then the door opened, and Jongho stepped in smelling like cold air and practice—sweat still clinging to him anyway. His bag thumped softly to the floor. He took one step into the living space and stopped the moment he saw you on the couch, like the whole room had rearranged itself around that fact.
For a second, he just looked.
Then his shoulders dropped, his expression going startled-soft.
“Honey?”
You just hummed in response, not moving yet.
Jongho paused in the doorway with that look. The one that said I am going to fix this, but politely.
He stepped closer, and crouched beside the couch. His hand hovered over your forehead for one second like he was taking your temperature without touching you. Then his palm landed gently on top of your head.
Warm.
Steady.
“Are you alright?”
The question was quiet enough to be safe. Like if he said it softly, it wouldn’t scare you off.
You nodded because it was easier than explaining the way your chest felt too tight for your ribs, the way your thoughts kept slipping sideways like wet soap. Your throat worked around nothing.
Jongho stayed crouched beside you, palm still resting on your head, thumb making the smallest circle through your hair. His eyes tracked your face with that slow patience he saved for you.
“Hey.” His voice was gentler now, almost careful. “You should’ve told me you were here.”
You stared at the ceiling. The dim light made the corners of the room blur. If you looked at him, you were going to crack.
He exhaled, and the sound carried more guilt than it should’ve.
“I would’ve tried to wrap up practice sooner,” he said, like it was his fault you’d run out of places to go.
You swallowed. Your mouth tasted like metal.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” The words came out thin. Wrong.
Jongho’s eyebrows pulled together. “You’re not a bother.”
Silence stretched. You could feel the lie you’d been living in your teeth, in the way your smile had been held together with sheer will. It was getting harder to keep it on. Every second he looked at you like this made it impossible.
Jongho waited through the quiet like he knew it was something you had to climb through on your own.
When you didn’t say anything, he shifted closer, his knee bumping the couch, and lowered his voice again.
“Talk to me.”
You tried.
Your lips parted and nothing came out. Your eyes stung. You blinked fast, furious at yourself for it.
Jongho’s hand slid from the top of your head to your cheek, warm against the cold there. He tilted your face just enough that you couldn’t hide in the ceiling anymore.
“There you are,” he murmured, like he’d finally found you.
That was the thing.
You’d been hiding for so long you didn’t even know how to be seen without shaking.
Your breath hitched. Once. Twice.
“I’m tired,” you said, and it was the most honest thing you’d said in weeks.
Jongho’s eyes softened in a way that hurt.
“Tired how?”
Your chest tightened. The answer pressed against your throat, too big, too sharp. You looked down at your hands tangled in the blanket. Your fingers were white at the knuckles.
“I don’t…” Your voice broke. You swallowed it back down. “I don’t know how to keep pretending.”
The room went still.
Jongho didn’t flinch.
He just nodded once, slow.
“Okay,” he said. “Then don’t.”
You laughed, small and wet, because it sounded impossible.
He leaned in closer, forehead nearly touching yours.
“You don’t have to do that here,” he told you. “Not with me.”
And something in your chest—some last stubborn thread—snapped.
You covered your face with your hands and the sound you made was ugly, too loud for the quiet room. You tried to swallow it down, tried to apologise, but Jongho’s arms were already around you, pulling you forward like he’d been waiting for the moment you stopped holding yourself together.
“It’s okay,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
His words were steady even when you weren’t.
He held you like it was simple.
“I’m sorry,” you started, because apologising was what you were used to. Because if you said it first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when he realised you were too much.
Jongho pulled back just enough to look at you.
Before the next sorry could spill out, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
Soft.
Unhurried.
Like he was sealing the apology shut.
Your breath hitched again.
“Hey.” His thumb brushed under your eye, wiping at the wetness you hadn’t even felt fall. “Look at me.”
You tried to turn away on instinct, but his hand cupped your jaw, gentle and firm, guiding you back. Not trapping. Just… there.
You met his eyes, and it made everything worse in the best way.
“Tell me what you need,” he said, voice low, like a promise. Like he wasn’t asking to fix you, just asking how to stay.
Your mouth opened. Nothing.
Need was a language you’d forgotten.
You swallowed, eyes burning.
“I—” Your voice trembled. You hated it. “I don’t know.”
Jongho nodded like that was an answer. Like it counted.
“Then we’ll start small,” he murmured.
You stared at the front of his hoodie, at the way his chest rose and fell so steadily it felt unfair.
The words came out before you could talk yourself out of them.
“Can you…” You licked your lips. “Can you hold me?”
For a second, his face softened so much you thought you might break all over again.
“Yeah,” he said immediately. No hesitation. No questions. “Come here.”
He shifted onto the couch, tugging the blanket open with one hand and pulling you into the space against him with the other. Your cheek pressed to his shoulder, your arms folding around his waist like you were afraid he’d vanish.
Jongho wrapped both arms around you, solid and warm, and held you like he’d been built for it.
His lips brushed your temple.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered.
You tried to breathe. You tried to let the steady weight of him rewrite your heartbeat.
The hallway outside the dorm living room creaked—pipes settling, or a door down the hall, or maybe just your nerves turning every sound into a warning.
Jongho’s gaze flicked toward the entrance, and you felt his body go alert without letting go of you.
“Wooyoung will be back any second,” he murmured, like he didn’t want the name to startle you. You stiffened at the idea of anyone seeing you like this—snotty and shaking.
Jongho tightened his arms a fraction. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Then, like it was the easiest decision in the world, he slid one arm behind your back and the other under your knees.
You made a small sound of protest, more embarrassment than refusal.
“Jongho—”
“Shh,” he said, and kissed your forehead again, quick and soft. “Let me.”
The blanket fell away as he lifted you. The room shifted, the couch leaving your spine, the air colder on your legs. You instinctively clung to his shoulders.
He carried you down the short hallway with quiet steps, like he’d done it a hundred times in another life. Like you weighed nothing.
His room door was half closed. He nudged it open with his foot and slipped inside. The lights were off except for the small lamp on his desk, casting everything in honey-soft shadows.
He set you down on his bed carefully, like you were fragile glass instead of a person who’d been trying so hard to stay unbreakable.
The mattress dipped under you. The sheets were warm.
Jongho climbed in beside you without asking, like he’d already decided you weren’t going to be alone. He pulled the comforter up and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you in against his chest.
“Better?” he asked, voice barely there.
You nodded into his shirt.
“Tell me if you want me to go,” he added, steady and serious.
You shook your head.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Then I’m staying.”
His hand smoothed over your hair, slow and repetitive, like he was petting a stray cat into trusting him. Each pass caught a few damp strands and tucked them away from your face.
The comforter was warm from his body, and his hoodie still held that faint practice smell. It wrapped around you in layers, like your senses could finally land on something real instead of free-falling.
Jongho shifted until you were properly tucked into the curve of him.
Not hovering. Not tentative.
Just there.
His arm tightened, the weight of it firm across your shoulders and upper back, and the pressure made your bones feel like they remembered how to exist.
“Okay,” he murmured, voice brushing your ear. “Personal weighted blanket mode: activated.”
A tiny sound escaped you—half laugh, half breath.
He hummed like he’d won. “Good. I’m very expensive, so you’re lucky you caught me in a charitable mood.”
You sniffed, embarrassed.
“Mm.” His hand paused at the back of your head, thumb pressing a gentle circle there. “No refunds either. Once you request the blanket, you’re stuck with it.”
Your shoulders trembled again, but this time it wasn’t from panic. It was from something lighter trying to exist in the same space.
Jongho felt it anyway.
“That’s it,” he said softly, like praise. “Let it out. Then let it go.”
He adjusted the pillow with his free hand, nudging it under your neck so you didn’t have to. Then he settled again, broad and solid beside you. His fingers traced slow lines along your arm through your sleeve—warm skin, warm fabric—until the buzzing under your skin started to quiet.
“Too much?” he asked.
You shook your head, the smallest movement.
“Too little?”
You hesitated, then tucked closer.
Jongho’s breath warmed the top of your head. “Copy that.”
He pulled you in with a gentle squeeze that made you feel safely pinned to the present.
Outside his room, the dorm was alive in tiny ways—muffled footsteps in the hall, someone’s laughter two doors down—but in here, it was just you, the dim desk lamp and Jongho’s arms.
He kissed your hair once, “You’re doing good,” he whispered. “You’re here. I’m here.”
And when your breathing finally evened out, he sighed into you, pleased and sleepy.
“See?” he murmured. “Told you I’m useful.”
You let out a shaky breath that almost counted as a laugh.
“Arrogant,” you mumbled into his hoodie.
“Accurate,” he corrected, and you could hear the smile in it.
He stayed quiet after that, giving you space to exist. His hand kept moving, slowly, the kind of touch that didn’t demand anything back.
Your eyes burned in that tired way that meant sleep was hovering close, but your body still didn’t trust it.
Jongho seemed to feel the tension anyway.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We don’t have to solve anything tonight. We just have to get you through the next hour. Then the next one.”
You swallowed. “What if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll do it with you,” he said, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t heroic, just practical.
The simple certainty of it made your chest ache.
You shifted, trying to wipe your face on his sleeve without making it obvious.
He clicked his tongue. “Hold on.”
He reached over to the nightstand and came back with a tissue from a crumpled packet, offering it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You took it, embarrassed.
“Don’t apologise,” he said immediately, like he’d heard the thought forming. “If you say sorry again, I’m adding a late fee to the weighted blanket service.”
You made a sound that was definitely a laugh this time, small but real.
“There it is,” Jongho murmured, pleased.
You turned your face slightly, just enough to look at him.
His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but his focus didn’t waver. Like all his tired belonged to him, and all his attention belonged to you.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Jongho’s expression softened. “For what?”
“For… not being mad. For not making me explain everything.”
He brushed his knuckles along your cheek. “I’m not mad.”
Then, quieter: “I’m just sorry you felt like you had to carry it alone.”
Something in your throat tightened again, but it didn’t tip into panic this time. It just… hurt in a way that felt survivable.
You closed your eyes.
Jongho adjusted you like he was arranging something precious—tucked your shoulder in, pulled the comforter higher, nudged your forehead to the warmest part of his chest.
“If you wake up and it’s bad again,” he murmured, “you nudge me. Even if it’s three a.m. Even if you think you’re annoying. You nudge me.”
You nodded, already drifting.
“And tomorrow,” he added, voice turning lightly serious, “we’re going to eat something. Water too. Like responsible adults.”
“Mm,” you hummed.
“And,” he said, just to make you smile again, “if you behave, I might even let you rate my blanket services online.”
You managed a tiny laugh, your cheek warming.
Jongho’s hand resumed its slow rhythm at the back of your head. Then he shifted, careful, and pulled the comforter up higher so it covered the tips of your shoulders. He tucked the edge around you like he’d done it a thousand times, like he’d been saving that small kindness just for you.
“There,” he murmured. “No draft. Maximum blanket efficiency.”
You made a soft sound of agreement.
His arm stayed heavy across you, the perfect pressure, and his other hand found yours under the covers. He laced your fingers together slowly, giving you time to pull away if you needed to.
You didn’t.
Jongho squeezed once—gentle, steady.
“You can breathe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
You tried, and it was easier now. The rise and fall of his chest behind you guided yours into matching it. He pressed his lips to your hair again, then to your temple, a trail of quiet reassurance. Each kiss was soft enough to barely feel, but you felt all of them anyway.
“Hey,” he said, voice gone even sleepier. “If your brain starts being mean again, you tell it I said to shut up.”
You huffed a laugh. “You can’t—”
“Can,” he corrected, and you could hear the grin. “I’m very strong. I can fight thoughts.”
You shifted closer, a little selfish with him.
Jongho made a satisfied sound, like you’d solved a puzzle. “Good. Exactly like that.”
He nudged his nose against your hair and sighed, warm air feathering your scalp. Then, quieter, more earnest:
“You don’t have to earn this, okay? You don’t have to be okay to be held.”
Something in your chest softened, not breaking this time, just unclenching.
“Okay,” you whispered.
“Good.” He kissed your forehead again, lingering. “That’s my favourite word from you.”
Your eyelids felt heavy. Your body finally believed the bed would keep you. Jongho’s thumb traced slow circles on the back of your hand, over and over, until the last sharp edges in your breathing smoothed out.
“And tomorrow,” he added, like a promise he was tying around your wrist, “we’ll do breakfast. Something warm. Then we’ll take it one hour at a time. Deal?”
You nodded, half-asleep.
“Deal,” he echoed softly, pleased.
He settled his chin on the top of your head and held you like a fixed point in the universe, like nothing could pull you away without going through him first.
Right before sleep took you, you felt him shift just enough to press one more kiss to your forehead.
“Goodnight, honey,” Jongho whispered. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t just believe it.
You felt it.
Jealousy
Ot8 x fem!reader (individually) || jealousy trope
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Kim Hongjoong
Hongjoong was never someone you would call subtle.
He never tried to hide how he felt and always spoke up loudly when need be.
So when he was sitting in the crowd at the award show they just finished performing at, breathes coming heavy as he shrugged off his jacket, he wasn't happy in the slightest when he looked down and saw what you were doing.
When you don't celebrate your bday
Pairing: ot8!ateez × gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff, comfort, headcanons, established relationship
Request: what their reaction would be if their s/o doesn't really celebrate their birthday / they themselves forget it just cus they're used to it being forgotten
Warnings: food mentioned on san's, that's it?
A/n: happy bday to you even if your birthday is only 364 days from now 🥳 | daily click
ATEEZ 9th Member AU | WANTEEZ Ep. 10
Word count~ 1.8k
Warning: Hongjoongs fine shyt brother
A/N: ive been thinking about that video where hongjoong scolds atiny for looking at other idols recently LMAO
• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Y/N was not okay.
She was fresh out of anesthesia, head foggy, lips trembling, and eyes darting around in panic. Everything felt unfamiliar—the bright lights, the cold room, the soft beeps—and worst of all…
She didn’t see them.
The members. Her boys.
