sunshinesfreckless

[sunshinesfreckless]

hiii baby! i’m absolutely OBSESSED with your spoiled series, and i was wondering if you could maybe bless us with a han version? 🥺🙏

Hi sweetie, a Han version is in the Making !! 🥰🤍🤍🤍

[sunshinesfreckless]

Omg I love your spoiled series >-<

Do you think we can be spoiled with a seungmin version hehe? And this might be askung for too much so u can ignore this but if u want to then maybe seungmin's girl can be mentioned as an artist or something?

it‘s posted sweetie ! I hope you like it ! And it‘s never too much, ask for whatever you want, i hope you like how i wrote it 🤍

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Diamond

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Seungmin x fem!reader

Summary: He loves spoiling the girl he's always had a weak spot for.

Warnings: GETTING RAILED AT CHAUMET.

A/N: Again, I hope the Seungmin stans are happy with me.

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Jeongin ୨ৎ Han ୨ৎ Leeknow ୨ৎ Changbin

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Before the ring, before the coat,

there were a thousand little things.

Limited edition sneakers that vanished from shelves in seconds — but somehow landed at her door, no receipt, no note, only the faintest scent of his cologne lingering on the box.

A first edition poetry book she’d once brushed her fingers over in a dusty Paris stall — slipped onto her desk like a secret, bound in velvet, her name handwritten inside the cover.

Fresh flowers every Friday — never the forced perfection of roses, but wild, tangled stems like the ones she always lingered over at the street markets, chaotic and soft and alive.

A signed vinyl from her favorite band — though she’d never mentioned it aloud, only ever hummed a few verses under her breath while working.

Tiny velvet boxes tucked into the lining of her suitcase when she traveled — each cradling delicate jewelry that whispered against her skin like a private kiss.

Cashmere sweaters in muted colors, the kind that seemed to melt against her body, always fitting her too perfectly to be coincidence.

Matching mugs after a single offhand comment — because “coffee tastes better when we drink from the same cup.”

And the notes.

The notes tucked everywhere.

In her sketchbook.

In the pages of her planner.

In the back pocket of her jeans.

Eat well. Rest. You are loved.

He never asked for thanks.

Never expected anything back.

He just gave.

And gave.

And gave.

Until loving her was no longer something Seungmin did, it was something he was.

───── ୨ৎ ─────

The ring came first.

A delicate band of white gold, cold and precise, sliding onto her finger with the effortless certainty of something that had always belonged there.

No grand confession.

No speeches.

No fireworks.

Just Seungmin, sprawled lazily on the sofa in a worn gray hoodie, tapping idly at his phone, voice low and distracted:

“Come here.”

She did — barefoot, sleep-heavy, the hem of his old T-shirt brushing her thighs.

He caught her wrist, pulled her closer, thumbed the ring onto her finger with a slow, almost absent-minded care.

“Needed everyone to know you’re mine,” he murmured, not even looking up.

She stared at the band — thin, heavy with diamonds, an unmistakable signature of wealth and intimacy — and something in her chest cracked open.

She hadn’t asked.

Hadn’t needed to.

He simply knew.

“Thank you, Minnie,” she whispered, dazed.

He smiled — lazy, dangerous — and tugged her down onto his lap like it was nothing.

“Good girl.”

───── ୨ৎ ─────

The Burberry came next.

Not just any trench coat.

Custom-tailored in London.

Soft tan suede that caught the light like honey, stitched inside with a muted plaid, a luxury secret meant for no one else to see but him.

It arrived at her studio sealed in a heavy garment bag, a handwritten note folded into the pocket:

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself too, my pretty artist. Love, your biggest fan.”

She wore it for him — and only the coat.

Bare beneath the suede, skin kissed pink by the evening light filtering through the windows.

When Seungmin walked in, he didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

Just set the coffee he brought onto the table with mechanical precision and stalked toward her.

His fingers — deceptively gentle — found the belt first.

Loosened it with one slow pull.

Pushed the fabric open, revealing her inch by inch, like he was unwrapping something breakable.

His voice came low, nearly unrecognizable.

“You’re not allowed to tease if you can’t handle the consequences, princess.”

She tried to answer.

Tried to be coy.

But he had her caged against the table before a word left her mouth, the coat puddling around her hips, his hand sliding under to cup the soft heat of her, bare and wet and already trembling.

“Messy little thing,” he muttered against the delicate shell of her ear, fingers slipping between her folds, cruelly light.

“All worked up just from wearing what I bought you?”

She whimpered — helpless, desperate.

Seungmin only smiled, slow and sharp and certain.

───── ୨ৎ ─────

The salon was a dream in gold and velvet.

Quiet, cloistered, hidden high above the noise of Paris.

A room only a handful of names would ever see.

Bathed in the soft shimmer of chandelier light, surrounded by display cases that held entire kingdoms in a single velvet box.

She stood in her new Heels on the thick carpet, wearing in the Burberry dress she got a few days ago, Seungmin’s jacket — oversized, drowning her, his scent clinging to every thread.

And behind her, Seungmin.

Solid. Warm.

His hands already roaming under the fabric, tracing the bare curve of her waist.

“You deserve all of it,” he murmured against her ear, voice a low, reverent rasp.

“Pick anything, baby. Everything.”

She opened her mouth to protest — to say it was too much, too outrageous —

But he was bunching up her dress, already sliding inside her with a slow, claiming thrust, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Point,” he said, voice rough with control.

She whimpered, balancing herself against the cool glass of the nearest case, knees shaking.

The stretch of him was almost too much, slow and deliberate, designed to make her mind unravel.

“I c-can’t,” she gasped.

Another roll of his hips — patient, devastating.

“You can,” Seungmin growled, nipping at the shell of her ear.

“You will. That’s an order.”

Trembling, she lifted a hand — barely able to focus through the haze of him — and pointed to a delicate tiara nestled in silk.

Diamonds like crushed stars, curling into the shape of laurel leaves.

Seungmin hummed approvingly, hips grinding deep into hers.

“Good girl.”

He signaled with a glance — no words needed — and somewhere behind them, the silent, discreet attendant slipped away to prepare the piece.

The rhythm of his thrusts was mercilessly slow — dragging every heartbeat out into an eternity —

but he never stopped.

Never let her escape the feeling of being filled, owned, adored.

“More,” he whispered.

She shuddered, gasping as he thrust deeper.

“More, baby. I want you spoiled until you forget how to say no.”

Her hand shook as she pointed again —

A necklace of pink sapphires, delicate as a vine.

A ring with a solitary emerald the color of spring rain.

A pair of earrings so intricate they looked spun by spiders from silver moonlight.

Each time, a reward — a deeper push, a ragged praise against her skin.

“That’s it,” Seungmin breathed, voice cracked open with emotion.

“That’s my girl. My spoiled, perfect thing.”

Her moans tangled with the hush of the salon, the shimmering quiet of obscene wealth around them.

She could barely stay upright, slick and trembling against the glass, but he held her there — one hand splayed over her stomach, the other sliding between her thighs, coaxing her higher.

“You deserve it,” he whispered, almost desperate now.

“Deserve everything in this room. Deserve the fucking world.”

When she finally broke — gasping his name, stars bursting behind her eyelids — Seungmin caught her in his arms, steady and unshakable.

He stayed buried deep inside her, rocking her through every aftershock, pressing kisses into her hair.

Only when she could breathe again did he lift her chin with a gentle finger, forcing her dazed eyes to meet his.

“You get everything you pointed at,” he said simply.

“And next time —”

He kissed her, slow and devastating.

“— you’ll ask for more.”

And she knew, with a dizzy, aching certainty —

It had never been about the jewelry.

Never about the price tags or the diamonds.

It was about him.

The way he worshiped her with his hands, his body, his soul.

The way he made her believe she was worth all the treasures of the earth.

The way, in a gilded room full of untouchable riches,

she would always be the most priceless thing in his world.

───── ୨ৎ ─────

Studio nights became different after that.

She’d curl up in the corner, sketching, pretending not to watch him —

but always, always feeling the weight of his gaze settle over her, heavy and possessive.

Later, he would press her into the couch, mouth hot and unhurried against her skin, stripping her down to nothing but gasps and trembling hands.

He never rushed.

Seungmin never rushed.

He licked into her slowly, like he had all the time in the world, teasing the sensitive places with maddening flicks of his tongue, dragging sweet, broken sounds from her lips.

“You taste even sweeter when you’re spoiled rotten,” he breathed against her, lapping at her until her thighs shook around his shoulders.

“Bet you don’t even realize how wet you get when you know you’re mine.”

She sobbed, writhing helplessly, and he only chuckled low in his throat — wicked, adoring — before pushing her over the edge with a single rough swipe of his tongue.

───── ୨ৎ ─────

Later still, when she tried to ride him — all messy kisses and trembling thighs — Seungmin caught her hips with brutal tenderness.

“Slow,” he ordered against her mouth, dragging her down on him inch by devastating inch.

“You’re gonna feel every second of it, princess.”

Tears blurred her vision, overwhelmed —

and Seungmin just smiled, soft and cruel, brushing them away with the pad of his thumb.

“That’s it.

Let me ruin you properly.”

When she broke apart, clutching at him, he held her right there, buried deep inside, cradling her through every aftershock, whispering against her hair:

“My pretty little artist.

Made just for me to love.”

───── ୨ৎ ─────

And when she fell asleep on his chest —

her fingers tangled in the Burberry coat thrown over them like a second skin —

Seungmin only kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes.

Because she gave him what no money could buy.

No brand could match.

No amount of luxury could counterfeit.

She gave him loyalty.

She gave him tenderness.

She gave him a home.

And that?

That was enough.

More than enough.

It was why he spoiled her.

Why he would keep spoiling her.

Why he would tear down the whole world if it ever dared to touch her.

Because she was his girl.

Because she was his peace.

Because in a life full of noise and endless want

she was the only thing he ever truly needed.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

[sunshinesfreckless]

omgggg the academic one perioddddd !!! better than i expected wake shakespeares crusty wigged ass up he needs to know hes been overthrown 👑👑

much love, the same anon who did the req for the fic ❤️

AHAHAHA THANK YOUUUU I‘M GLAD YOU LIKE IT

[sunshinesfreckless]

Hi!! 👋🏽😄

Just wanted to say that I am a BIG FAN of your series spoiled girl/his muse (bangchan, Felix, and Hyunjin) I loved them so much that I keep rereading them 😅!!!! And I was hoping if you could do one for Yang Jeongin or I.N?

Thanks so much!!! 🩵☺️🌷

posted 🤍🤍🤍

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Doll

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Summary: The fashionable boy needs a doll to dress — and who better than his girlfriend, the one he already loves to spoil rotten?

Warnings: Backshots in a Bottega Veneta skirt. Jeongin loves having you as his. And idk, idk — just don’t read if you’re a minor.

A/N: I’m always so nervous writing for someone who isn’t in my bias line, because yes, I know them well — but someone who has him as their bias knows them better, so I’m always scared of mischaracterizing him…

I hope you Jeongin stans enjoy it! Remember, it’s just fiction hehe… or not.

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Han ୨ৎ Leeknow ୨ৎ Changbin

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

At first, it started with a jacket.

A simple thing—luxurious black leather, butter-soft, the kind of piece you could wear for a lifetime.

He held it up to her in the store, sharp-eyed, calculating.

“This one,” he said simply, draping it over her shoulders like he was crowning her.

When she tried to protest—it’s too expensive, I don’t need it—he just kissed her forehead and handed over his card without blinking.

After that, it never stopped.

Little by little, Jeongin rebuilt her entire wardrobe like he was rebuilding her.

Custom-tailored dresses that skimmed her body just right.

Cashmere sweaters so soft she blushed when they slipped against her skin.

Shoes flown in from Milan, still warm from the hands that crafted them.

He never asked her opinion.

He didn’t need to.

He knew exactly what would make her look irresistible.

Exactly how to dress her—

To own her.

It wasn’t about fashion.

It was about possession.

He wanted the world to see her and know—

That every inch of her, from her earrings to her heels, was his.

────୨ৎ────

When they walked backstage of the Award Show one day, her hand tucked neatly in his, the other members’ heads snapped toward them.

She wore a simple black mini dress, barely-there straps, the fabric gliding over her like it had been painted on.

Jeongin had picked it himself.

Paired it with thin silver jewelry, a tiny designer bag, and heels that made her legs go on forever.

The boys stared.

Not even subtly.

“Bro,” Seungmin muttered under his breath.

But Jeongin didn’t get jealous.

No—he thrived on it.

He wanted them to look.

He wanted them to ache for what they could never touch.

Because she didn’t just wear the clothes.

She wore him.

Obediently.

Perfectly.

Without even realizing it.

Every time she adjusted the hem like a good girl, shyly pulling it down over her thighs—

Every time she bit her lip, self-conscious because the neckline dipped a little too low—

He watched her.

Eyes darkening.

Heat curling under his skin, slow and lethal.

────୨ৎ────

Later, when they were alone, he pushed her up against the closet door.

Pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he whispered.

“You’re mine. Dressed by me. Made for me.”

His hands slipped under the hem of the dress he bought her, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of her thighs.

“You look so good it hurts,” he growled.

“You wear my choices, you are mine.”

And when she whimpered, clutching at him—

When she tilted her chin up, silently begging for his mouth, his hands, anything he’d give—

He laughed, soft and dangerous.

“Good girl,” he said, voice low.

“My perfect, spoiled little thing.”

────୨ৎ────

A necklace clasped around her throat—Bottega Veneta, delicate, understated, real gold.

Sneakers that appeared by the door just when her old ones started to wear out—Balenciaga, crisp white, her size memorized.

Jeongin didn’t spoil her loudly.

He did it the way he did everything—with thought, with precision, with a certain boyish pride he tried to hide behind nonchalance.

Perfectly tailored coats in muted creams and charcoals, arriving on rainy afternoons like he had ordered the weather too.

Silk shirts slipped onto her body, the buttons fastened by his own hands, because, “You deserve to feel expensive every day, baby.”

And then he’d kiss her temple and say, “Perfect. Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.”

────୨ৎ────

The soft hiss of the Zipper sliding down her spine, teeth parting like a sigh, while Jeongin’s fingers chased it lower, knuckles grazing bare skin.

She stood in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but the pale slip dress he’d picked out for her that morning.

Now it pooled at her feet.

And he stood behind her, still fully dressed—white shirt open at the collar, Bottega watch glinting on his wrist, eyes so dark they made her knees weak.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice thick with something that made her shiver.

She turned.

His hands found her hips first—steady, reverent—thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into the bone.

Then up, tracing her waist, her ribs, the delicate slope of her back.

Touching like he was redrawing her by memory.

When his mouth found her neck, she gasped—a soft, broken sound—fingers clutching at the front of his shirt like she needed something to anchor her.

“You know,” he whispered against her skin, breath hot, “every time I buy you something… it’s because I imagine unwrapping you out of it later.”

Her heart stuttered.

So did her knees.

He caught her easily, chuckling low under his breath, scooping her up effortlessly and carrying her to the bed without ever losing his mouth on her throat.

She landed among the sheets with a soft gasp, hair fanning out like a halo.

Jeongin stood over her, undoing the buttons of his shirt slowly, deliberately, letting her watch.

Letting her see the way his muscles flexed under the soft fabric, the way the veins on his arms stood out as he shrugged it off and dropped it to the floor.

When he crawled over her, his knee pressing between her thighs, she whimpered.

“Tell me,” he said, voice rough as velvet, “what do you want tonight, baby?”

She couldn’t find words.

She just grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand to her breast, arching into his palm.

“That,” she breathed. “You. All of you.”

Jeongin smiled—lazy, dangerous—and kissed her.

Kissed her until she forgot how to breathe, until the only thing she knew was the heat of his mouth, the slide of his hands, the grinding of his hips into hers.

And when he finally moved lower—kissing down her ribs, her stomach, the inside of her thighs—he didn’t rush.

Jeongin loved slow.

He teased the inside of her knee with his mouth, tracing lazy paths higher and higher, watching her fall apart bit by bit.

By the time his tongue flicked against her clit, she was already gasping, already writhing, already begging.

And he groaned—deep, guttural—like he could live on her pleasure alone.

Jeongin ate her out like a man starving.

No finesse. No performance.

Just pure hunger, pure need, pure devotion.

His tongue was slow at first—languid strokes that had her thighs shaking—then faster, harder, as he pinned her hips down and feasted.

Not just with his mouth, but with low, filthy moans that vibrated through her entire body.

Her hands clawed at the sheets, at his hair, at anything she could reach—

And when she came, sobbing his name, Jeongin didn’t stop.

He just licked deeper, slower, gentler, pulling every last tremor out of her like a man determined to drink every drop of her.

When he finally slid up her body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked down at her with a lazy, smug grin.

“You good, baby?” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

She could barely nod.

But she managed to pull him down for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips, feeling the way he shuddered when she wrapped her arms and legs around him and refused to let go.

“You spoil me,” she whispered, still dazed.

He laughed softly against her mouth.

“You spoil me right back,” he said.

“Every time you look at me like that. Every time you smile at me like I’m your whole world.”

She kissed him again.

Slower this time.

Softer.

Because he was.

He was hers.

And she was his.

And sometimes, love looked like Bottega heels and silk sheets.

But more often, it looked like the way he held her after—bare, worshiped, safe—and the way she fell asleep every night knowing she would wake up even more loved than before.

────୨ৎ────

The Skirt was halfway off.

Bunched at her waist, the silky fabric clinging to her curves, wrinkled where he had dragged it up with shaking hands.

“Fuck—” Jeongin groaned, voice rough, desperate.

The bra straps hung off her shoulders, useless.

Her necklace—delicate, glittering, his pick—swung wildly with every movement.

Even the lace panties he had bought her, the ones with his initials stitched into the waistband, were pushed aside, leaving her open for him.

Spoiled.

Claimed.

His.

He pressed her face into the mattress, hand firm between her shoulder blades, holding her steady as he drove into her from behind.

“Look at you,” he rasped, thrusts hitting deep, filthy sounds filling the room.

“Dressed by me. Fucking ruined by me.”

She whined under him, hips arching, begging for more without words.

Her body knew him too well now—

belonged to him in ways no amount of luxury could ever explain.

Every snap of his hips made the bed creak, the frame protesting, but he didn’t slow down.

He needed her like this—

Breathless, trembling, covered in the life he built around her like armor.

“Who’s pretty girl are you, baby?” he panted, thrusting harder.

She gasped, trying to answer, but the only thing that came out was a broken moan.

He smirked, leaning down to kiss the back of her neck, sweat-slicked skin tasting like heaven.

“That’s right,” he whispered.

“You’re mine. All of you. All this—”

His hand slid down her spine, over the dress, the jewelry, the faint marks he’d left earlier along her thighs.

“—everything you wear, everything you are. Mine.”

She shattered on him then, body clenching, sobbing his name into the sheets.

And Jeongin followed her, groaning low in his chest, emptying himself deep inside her like he was branding her from the inside out.

────୨ৎ────

Later, when they lay tangled together, the city lights painting the room in soft gold, she pressed her face to his chest.

Still wearing the necklace he’d given her.

Still breathing in sync with him like they shared the same lungs.

Jeongin stared down at her, hand smoothing her hair back, heart too full for words.

She could have demanded anything from him—

Cars, houses, a life of endless luxury.

And he would have given it to her without blinking.

But she never asked for any of it.

She never wanted the clothes or the jewelry or the life.

She wanted him.

Just him.

And that was enough to make the world stop spinning under his hands.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@zenfries @inniesfanblog

[sunshinesfreckless]

i got 2 paragraphs into his spoiled muse and immediately had to come and tell you how gorgeous and exquisite your writing style is!!! i love everything about it.

oh my god. You made my whole day better. I love you, i wish you the best. ILYYY 🤍😭🫶🏼

[sunshinesfreckless]

Are you going to upload a pt. 2 of technical difficulties? No pressure if you won't but it'd be highly appreciated if you did <3

Also LOVEEEE your fics ❤❤

a part 2. is on my mind lately …. 🫣 Will tag you when i get the right idea for a second part ! And thank you sweetheart 🤍🤍🤍

[sunshinesfreckless]

Hi isho!...is it okay if call you that? Been really interested in your work and I really really love it I've pretty much read all of them and beach hazard is probably my fave 😂 I was wondering if you take requests for other members?

If you could do a little something for Chan where he always spoils y/n constantly (with literally anything and everything) and sometimes he pushes aside his issues and work stress just to make y/n happy and she hates when he does that. Then she takes it on herself to make him de stress (he can't tell her to stop cause he actually needs it and he knows y/n is stubborn like that). Just something like that ig you can make it smut if you want...🫶

hellloooo, yes you can call me that ! And your wish is my command 🫡 i‘m on it, giving you a smut free version too. Until then you can read a similiar one with Bangchan that i uploaded. (With smut tho) https://www.tumblr.com/sunshinesfreckless/781639725842874368/his-spoiled-girl

and thank you very much for your kind words angel. I‘ll tag you when i‘m done 🤍🤍

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Muse

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hyunjin is madly in love with his muse—hopelessly, endlessly, and indulgently so.

Warnings: Goodness… where do we begin? Everyone’s naked, Hyunjin is a very passionate pussy eater, and he has a habit of sketching his girl in the nude. Just don’t interact if you’re a minor.

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Jeongin ୨ৎ Leeknow ୨ৎ Han ୨ৎ Changbin

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

It started with a brushstroke—long, deliberate, trailing down the curve of her naked back like a whisper. His hands didn’t touch her, not yet. But his eyes did. And his gaze alone was enough to make her ache.

Hyunjin painted like he was in love. And he was.

She was his muse. His obsession. The reason the paint didn’t dry on his palette and his soul never stopped starving. He didn’t just look at her—he devoured her with his eyes, studied every freckle, every curve, every line etched by God and kissed by the sun. And when he painted her like this—bare, perched on his antique chaise in nothing but gold jewelry and goosebumps—she felt like a goddess in the flesh.

“My masterpiece,” he murmured, voice reverent.

She shivered.

It wasn’t just the chill in the studio air. It was the way he worshiped her.

Hyunjin didn’t just spoil her—he drenched her in devotion. Custom Versace silks made for her body only. Weekly deliveries of rare orchids flown in from Thailand because she said she liked the way they smelled. Diamonds for no reason. Private suites in Paris. He wore gold rings on every finger and wrapped her in his name like another piece of couture.

“Why?” she asked once, her hand resting on his jaw as he knelt between her legs, robes pooling at his elbows like some decadent royal.

His lips brushed the inside of her thigh.

“Because I need the world to know you belong to me.”

And she did.

But he belonged to her too. Even when he was on his knees, licking slow prayers into her skin like a sinner desperate for grace.

──୨ৎ──

The chandelier swayed faintly above them, but it was the mirror on the ceiling that stole her breath.

She lay there, skin kissed by silk sheets, body glistening with the golden gleam of Cartier—thin chains resting against her collarbone, bracelets at her wrists, diamonds catching the candlelight like tiny stars scattered across her body.

But her eyes weren’t on the jewels.

They were on him.

Hyunjin was between her thighs, shoulders flexing with every movement of his tongue, golden skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his hair falling into his face in soft, black waves. His back—broad, sculpted, divine—was a landscape of devotion, muscles tightening with every desperate pull of his mouth.

She could see it all in the mirror.

The way her legs trembled around him. The way his hands gripped her hips like she was sacred. The way he worshipped her—not just with his tongue, but with every inch of him.

He wasn’t in a rush. He never was.

Hyunjin ate her out like a man who’d been starved, like the only way he’d survive was with his mouth buried in her, like her pleasure was his daily prayer. His tongue moved in slow, reverent circles, teasing her open, coaxing her into a fevered mess, and then dipping deep until her whole body arched off the bed.

Her breath hitched as she watched his mouth glisten, watched his fingers curl against her thighs to hold her steady.

And in the mirror, she saw it all.

Saw the flush blooming across her chest.

Saw the gold around her throat catch the light every time she moaned.

Saw the way he looked up at her, eyes dark and starving, like he’d gladly live down there forever if she let him.

“Baby—” she gasped, her hand tangling in his hair, voice breaking as her thighs clamped tighter.

He didn’t answer.

He just groaned—low, hungry—and pulled her closer, burying his face even deeper like her pleasure was holy, like her taste was the only thing that had ever mattered.

In the mirror, she saw her head fall back, lips parted, diamonds glittering at her neck like a crown.

And when she finally shattered—loud, desperate, breathless—Hyunjin held her through every wave of it, licking her clean, kissing her thighs like benedictions.

When he finally rose from between her legs, lips wet and chin shining, he hovered over her, kissed her deeply, let her taste herself on his tongue.

“You should always see what I see,” he whispered, brushing her hair off her cheek with a touch as gentle as silk. “You’re art. You always have been.”

She touched the Cartier around her neck, touched his face.

“You’re mine,” she breathed.

And he smiled.

“Always.”

──୨ৎ──

But the next day….. a pout.

A soft, quiet one, but Hyunjin knew it too well.

She sat on the edge of their velvet chaise, long legs crossed, her gown draped around her like a rose petal. Her makeup was perfect. Her hair was curled just right. But her eyes were stormy.

“There’s nothing that fits,” she murmured, gesturing helplessly at the small sea of shoes surrounding her. Heels in satin, crystal, and leather—all wrong.

“And no bag,” she added, a depressed tone now. “Not one that matches the tone of the dress. Not one that feels right.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, amused.

“But baby, you look—”

“No,” she cut in, standing up with a frustrated huff, silk brushing the floor.

He bit his lip to hide a smile. There it was—that fire, that exquisite taste, that refusal to blend in.

And god, he adored it.

──୨ৎ──

The next day, she woke up to chaos.

Or rather, elegance in chaos form.

The Apartment was flooded with soft Italian murmurs and velvet boxes. A sharply dressed man with silver hair bowed as he gestured to the collection he’d brought. Versace bags in every style and shade imaginable, from sleek patent leather clutches to opulent baroque-printed totes, each more divine than the last.

Heels too. Dozens of them.

Gold, white, champagne. With embroidery, pearls, snakeskin. Slingbacks. Stilettos. And somewhere in the middle—exactly the one she had pictured in her head the day before.

On top of it all: a sprawling bouquet of long-stemmed roses, gardenias, and peonies in the softest blush and ivory.

There was no note.

Just Hyunjin at the top of the stairs in a robe, leaning on the railing like a bored prince.

“Told you I’d fix it,” he said, smiling lazily. “Now go find your fairytale shoe, Cinderella.”

She stared, speechless. Then walked over to him in bare feet, her voice soft.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “But you deserve to have the world shaped around you.”

──୨ৎ──

There was always a new gift waiting.

Some days, it was a sketch—him, on his floor at 3 a.m., too drunk on love to sleep, his pencil frantic to capture the curve of her shoulder, the slope of her spine. Other days, it was velvet boxes lined with Cartier and Bulgari, gold and diamonds and sapphires that matched the gleam in her eyes when he pulled her onto his lap and fastened the chains around her neck himself.

But it wasn’t just the things.

It was how he adored her. Like she was the center of his universe. Like all the beauty he created with his hands would still never compare to the shape of her sleeping in his bed.

And she was spoiled, yes.

But she was also his.

She’d said she didn’t need it. Just a casual comment at breakfast, something about how the perfume was nice but impossible to find.

So, of course, it showed up the next day. Three bottles, sealed in crystal, packaged in a lacquered case with her initials engraved in gold.

“You didn’t,” she whispered.

Hyunjin smiled, reclined on the chaise with his sketchbook in hand, his Versace robe falling open like some decadent afterthought. “You liked it.”

“I mentioned it once.”

“And I remembered.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. She crossed the room, perched on his lap, burying her fingers in his soft hair. “You’re insane.”

He made her feel like the world had been created just for her to live in it. And him? He existed just to love her.

But it wasn’t one-sided.

She loved him, too.

Not for the diamonds. Not for the paintings. Not for the palace he built for her out of velvet and devotion.

She loved him when he fell asleep in the apartment, paint on his cheek and her name written over and over again in the margins of his sketchbook. She loved him when he got quiet after a long day, curling into her side like a boy who just needed to be held. She loved the soft in him as much as the sin.

She loved him for all the ways he gave himself to her—and for all the ways he let her love him back.

And that’s why she let him spoil her.

Because he was hers.

And she was everything to him.

His Muse.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@sapphirewaves @bemyaehiweloveskz @velvetmoonlght

[sunshinesfreckless]

Hey i was wondering if i could request a Bang Chan version of ‘’His spoiled princess’’?. Also could i maybe be 🎀 anon?

Done. I hope you enjoy it sweetie 🤍 https://www.tumblr.com/sunshinesfreckless/781639725842874368/his-spoiled-girl

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Girl

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bang Chan loves making full use of his Stray Kids leader money—especially when it comes to her.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, blowjobs, handjobs (you know… all the jobs), lingerie, daddy kink

A/N: Other members were requested! Lmk which Member you desire next.

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Jeongin ୨ৎ Changbin ୨ৎ Han ୨ৎ Leeknow

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Bang Chan wasn’t just her boyfriend.

He was her provider. Her protector.

It didn’t matter that he was knee-deep in deadlines, producing tracks until sunrise, answering five calls at once, and coaching the younger members like a seasoned general—

────୨ৎ────

The fur coat was stunning. Hand-delivered from Milan.

Not just fur. Cruelty-free, custom dyed in her favorite shade, with a golden nameplate on the inside that read:

“For my queen. - BC”Real Fendi. Snow leopard print, soft as sin, the kind of thing only his girl could pull off. She hadn’t even asked for it—just sighed once at a photo on her phone—and now it was hanging in her closet like it had always belonged there.

“I just mentioned it once,” she breathed, stunned.

“You don’t mention things to me, baby,” Chan said with a lazy smirk from the doorway, sleeves rolled, veins prominent, eyes dark. “You make declarations. And Daddy listens.”

────୨ৎ────

He was at the studio when she sent him the mirror selfie. Her in the coat, nothing underneath but lace.

Chan nearly groaned aloud, biting his lip as he watched the photo load. It was late, everyone else had gone home, but he was still at the mixer, sleeves rolled up, chest heaving with the weight of his next verse.

And now? Now he was hard.

He called her immediately.

“You tryin’ to kill me, princess?” he murmured, voice already thick. “You really put that on while I’m here working?”

She giggled sweetly. “I missed you.”

Chan’s response was immediate. “Stay right there. Don’t take it off. I’ll be home in fifteen.”

When he got back, she was waiting.

She was lounging on their bed, that coat slipping off one shoulder, her lips glossy, eyes wide and waiting. Chan stood in the doorway, jaw clenched, watching her like he hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Come here.”

She obeyed instantly, crawling to him on all fours, the coat dragging behind her like a queen’s train.

He caught her chin between his fingers when she reached him, lifting her face to meet his eyes. “You know what this coat means, don’t you?”

She nodded. “That I’m yours.”

“No, baby,” he corrected, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “That you’re my only. And I take care of what’s mine.”

────୨ৎ────

There were perks to dating the leader of Stray Kids.

Like when she wanted a quiet date night, and Chan rented out an entire theater. Not just the movie—they projected a montage of her favorite K-dramas, edited together by a professional team he personally directed.

While she sat curled up in her fur, eating popcorn from a crystal bowl, Chan lounged beside her in joggers and a tight black tee, arm around her shoulder, legs spread like he owned the whole damn city.

Because he did. When it came to her—he did.

“Everyone should know what kind of taste my baby has,” he murmured against her temple. “And no one gets to enjoy it but me.”

────୨ৎ────

Her nails were fresh.

Long, almond-shaped, with crushed diamonds embedded in a sheer pink base. Chan had flown in a nail tech from Japan who only did private celebrity sessions. She didn’t even ask. He just made it happen.

He watched her trace a finger down his chest one night, those expensive nails glinting in the warm bedroom light.

“You like them?” she whispered.

Chan didn’t answer with words.

He grabbed her by the wrist, pressed her palm flat against his abs, and dragged it slowly lower until her hand was resting right over the hard bulge in his sweats.

“I paid for those hands,” he growled, voice thick. “Now put ‘em to work, princess.”

Her fingers twitched against the heavy outline in his sweats. He was already hard, aching, and she could feel the heat through the fabric—how thick he was, how much he needed her.

She didn’t rush.

Instead, she trailed her nails—slowly, teasingly—up his length, letting the crushed diamonds scrape softly through the cotton. Just enough to make him hiss.

Chan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t play.”

But she only smiled, sinking to her knees between his legs, those glossy, dangerous nails curling under the waistband of his sweats and pulling them down with a drag so slow it felt like torture.

His cock sprang free—heavy, flushed, leaking.

And her breath hitched at the sight.

All that for her.

She wrapped one manicured hand around him—delicate, expensive fingers closing around his base like they were sculpted for this. He groaned low, head falling back, and the sound made her clench.

She stroked him slow. Luxurious. Worshipful. Letting her rings clink softly with every glide. Her thumb swiped across the tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum with a practiced motion, her other hand resting light on his thigh, nails biting down with each twitch of his hips.

He looked down at her, eyes blazing.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “Spoiled little thing… working Daddy’s cock like a fucking jewel thief.”

She grinned—wicked and proud—and twisted her wrist just how she knew he liked it. Grip just right. Pressure perfect. The way only she knew how to do.

And when his hips started to stutter, when he cursed under his breath in three different languages, she leaned in and whispered, sweet and smug:

“Wanna come for me, Daddy? All over the hands you bought?”

His groan broke in his throat.

And seconds later, he did.

────୨ৎ────

Studio nights weren’t quiet anymore.

Sometimes, she came barefoot, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies and nothing else, curling up on the sofa while he clicked through beats. Sometimes, she sprawled across his lap, thighs bare, pressing lazy kisses to his throat while he adjusted synth levels like it was just another Tuesday.

“Need to focus, sweetheart,” he’d murmur—but his hand would already be gripping her thigh, stroking slow circles, letting her know she was welcome anywhere he was.

She slid under the console like she belonged there, eyes glinting in the dim studio lights, lips already parted.

He didn’t say a word. Just let out a breath and leaned back slightly in the chair, the hand not working the mixer dropping to the side—to her.

She unzipped him slow. Silently. Pulled him out with both hands like unwrapping a gift she already knew by heart.

He was half-hard already. That changed the moment her warm breath ghosted over the tip.

She started with his balls—because she liked to tease. Wet, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin. Tongue tracing slow circles. Gentle sucks, one after the other, until his thighs twitched and his breath caught in the mic.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

She giggled against him.

And then she moved up.

Took the tip between her lips. Swirled her tongue around it like candy. Then sank down in one long, greedy motion—until he hit the back of her throat.

Chan slammed his hand on the desk, pretending it was about a track beat.

In reality, he was struggling not to thrust into her mouth.

She set a rhythm—slow, wet, deliberate. Hands twisting at the base, spit dripping onto her fingers as she bobbed her head. Every time she hollowed her cheeks and moaned around him, his grip on the chair tightened.

“You’re insane,” he rasped, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m working—”

She pulled off with a pop. Whispered, “Then work, Daddy. I’ll just keep your stress levels down.”

And went right back down on him.

Deeper this time. No mercy. Her nails dug into his thighs while her tongue worked underneath, tip pressed into that sensitive spot beneath the head. She sucked like she was trying to milk him, and Chan was fucking losing it.

When she went back to his balls—licking, sucking, slurping—and stroked him at the same time?

That’s when he came. Hard. Into her mouth, into her throat, with his head thrown back and a low growl muffled by his sleeve.

She swallowed everything.

And when she came back up from under the desk, licking her lips like she’d just come back from brunch.

────୨ৎ────

When she missed him during tour, she didn’t cry. She waited—with full trust that he would make it up to her.

And oh, he did.

The moment he stepped through the door, he lifted her up, walked her straight to the bed, and unwrapped her like a present.

“My good girl,” he whispered, voice rough, eyes dark with hunger. “Waited so sweet for me.”

She moaned as his hands explored her body like it had been years, not weeks. His thrusts were punishing, praise spilling out between every deep stroke, his voice laced with so much heat and pride, it broke her open.

“Missed this pussy,” he growled. “Missed my perfect, spoiled baby.”

────୨ৎ────

Once, a stylist made the mistake of telling her she “looked expensive.”

Chan had overheard. And later that night, he chuckled as he kissed her bare shoulder and whispered:

“She is expensive. And I’m the only one who can afford her.”

────୨ৎ────

Chan knew she didn’t love him for the money. Not the furs, not the jewels, not the VIP service that followed her around like a shadow.

She loved him.

It was in the way she waited for him to get home, curled up on the couch in his hoodie, sleepy-eyed and soft. In the way she packed snacks for the studio because she knew he’d forget. In the soft kiss she left on his temple every morning before he woke up.

And God—when she showed up at the studio late at night, just to sit quietly and wait?

That did him in.

She’d curl up on the studio couch, that coat wrapped around her, half-asleep but still humming along to the beat he was mixing. No complaints. No demands. Just there for him.

That was why he spoiled her. That was why he had to.

Because she was more than his girl.

She was his Life.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@sapphirewaves @bemyaehiweloveskz @velvetmoonlght

[sunshinesfreckless]

hear me the fuckkkk out its like 4am as i write this ill check over it before i send (tf i cooked so hard at 4am)

so hyunjin oneshot with him spooning reader, lazily fingering her as shes doing like duolingo or wordle or sudoku or sum that requires brain power and clarity and then if she gets it wrong hes mumbling in her ear in like a deep silky voice like that one live where he was singing red lights ab how what hes gna do if she gets it wrong n shii. also him trailing kisses down her neck the whole time teasing her tryna see how much she can stand with still using her brain? pretty please 🐸🐸🙏🙏

p.s. ily ur writing is top tier i was looking thru my following tryna see who could write it well i saw ur blog i js knew

Academic Achievements

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hyunjin tries to motivate his hardworking girlfriend in his own… effective way.

Warnings: Fingering, vaginal sex, no condom (Wrap it before you tap it, guys—tsk!), praise kink, Hyunjin being irresistible, mentions of exams…

A/N: Sweetie, I hope you like it! I was so nervous—I went through so many drafts, but this is the final one!

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

She hated exams. God, she hated them. But what she hated even more were these stupid mock tests — endless questions, pressure without the payoff, and the constant anxiety gnawing at her chest.

Hyunjin’s room was dim, the bedside lamp casting a soft amber glow that flickered against the walls. She sat in the middle of his bed, buried in a sea of pillows and his warm vanilla-scented sheets, wearing nothing but his oversized shirt that slipped too easily off one shoulder. The fabric brushed against her bare thighs, the hem riding up every time she shifted with a frustrated sigh.

Across the room, Hyunjin was quietly going through his night routine — shirtless, skin glowing from his skincare, the gentle tap of lotion bottles the only sound besides her annoyed mumbling. He watched her, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice low and lazy as he approached the bed, “are you gonna sleep tonight, or just keep arguing with your quiz app?”

She ignored him, chewing on her lip, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Almost done.”

Hyunjin chuckled and climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her snugly against him, his chest flush with her back. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the softness of his lips ghosting just behind her ear.

“Your elbow’s gonna hurt from all that head weight,” he whispered teasingly. “At least lie on your back for a bit.”

She shook her head. “I can go study in the kitchen if it bothers you… I know you have a performance tomorrow.”

He didn’t let go. Instead, he nuzzled into her hair, speaking against her neck. “It’s not even live. Just some award show. I’d rather stay here. With you.”

His fingers slipped under the hem of the shirt she wore — his shirt — fingertips just barely brushing the bare skin of her hip. She sucked in a quiet breath, the tension in her shoulders faltering for just a second.

“Stay here and keep studying,” he murmured, voice low and warm against her neck. His hand lazily traced slow, deliberate circles across her stomach, just beneath the hem of his shirt. “I won’t be a distraction.”

She gave a half-smile. “No sweetheart, don’t you get distracted,” she teased softly.

He hummed, lips brushing her shoulder, but didn’t answer. Her attention drifted back to the screen, mock exam blinking back at her. She exhaled, refocused, and tapped her answer.

But his fingers moved lower.

They barely ghosted over the waistband of her panties — soft, testing — then down further, tracing lightly over the thin fabric. She froze, breath catching.

“Jinnie…” she whispered, warning, pleading — not sure which.

“Keep going, baby,” he purred in her ear, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You can do your little test, can’t you?”

His fingers pressed more firmly now, rubbing slow, measured circles just over her clit. “Every wrong answer…” he paused, kissed the shell of her ear, “…and I’ll bury my fingers deeper.”

She whimpered.

“I wanna see how smart my baby really is,” he said. “See how long that pretty little brain can focus while I stretch you open.”

Her thumb trembled as she tapped the next question. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get it right or wrong. Either way, she was already losing the battle.

“Next question. Don’t mess it up.”

Her thumb trembled as she tapped the screen. A math problem. Of course it had to be math. She squinted at the options, trying to remember the formula, trying not to react when his fingers gently parted her folds and brushed against her clit. Barely a touch, but enough to make her hips twitch.

“Mmh, what’s the answer, smart girl?” he asked, kissing her neck as his fingertip moved in slow, teasing circles over her slick skin. “C? Or D? Pick one before I do.”

She gasped and tapped an answer.

Silence.

“Wrong,” he whispered darkly, and before she could protest, one finger slipped inside her. Just the tip. Just enough to make her clench.

“Fuck…” she breathed, her body arching back into him involuntarily.

He held her tighter, his arm around her waist locking her in place. “Already this wet, and we’ve only just started?” he murmured, dragging his finger back out slowly, only to push it in again, deeper this time. “Let’s see how many more questions you can answer with my fingers fucking your brain.”

Her thumb hovered over the next question, pulse racing, breath shaky.

“Ten more to go,” Hyunjin said, tongue flicking over the shell of her ear. “And if you get even one more wrong, I’m going to make you come with my hand over your mouth so the neighbors don’t hear how dumb I’m making you.”

Her thumb trembled over the screen, the next question a blur through the heat building behind her eyes. She could barely remember what she was doing anymore — was it chemistry? Anatomy? Irony? Nothing mattered now except the steady, slow rhythm of Hyunjin’s finger sliding in and out of her, each movement dragging a gasp from her throat.

He buried his mouth in the curve of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. His voice, deep and low like silk over velvet, melted into her ear. “You’re not even trying anymore,” he whispered, kissing just below her jaw. “What happened to my little overachiever?”

She whimpered as he added another finger, the stretch just enough to make her thighs tighten. His pace didn’t change — slow, torturous — but his words made her feel dizzy.

“Focus,” he cooed, lips brushing her pulse. “Come on, baby. Get this one right and maybe I’ll fill you up later.”

A pause. Another kiss to her throat. “Get it wrong…” His fingers curled, just right. “And I’ll make you come again and again until you forget what exams even are.”

Her hips jerked, a soft moan caught in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His hand kept her close, the other working her open so tenderly it felt cruel.

He tilted her chin slightly, voice lowering even more, like a secret. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s how deep my fingers are inside you. Imagine what my cock would feel like.”

Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Nuh-uh,” Hyunjin whispered, dragging his thumb up to circle her clit. “Eyes on the screen. Be good. Show me how smart that pretty little brain.”

She clenched her jaw, refusing to let her hand shake as she tapped the next answer. It had to be right. She needed it to be right.

A second passed.

Hyunjin’s soft chuckle rumbled against her back. “Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of her neck. “That’s three in a row.”

Her breath caught, body tensing with need at the sound of those two words. Good girl. The way he said it — like it tasted sweet on his tongue — made her crave more. She needed more praise, more kisses, more of his slow, addictive voice wrapping around her.

“I knew you were smart,” he whispered, dragging his tongue along the shell of her ear. “Answer another one right and I might let you come with my fingers still inside you.”

His fingers pushed deeper, curling just right, making her hips roll back instinctively. And that’s when she felt it — the hard press of his cock through his boxers, grinding slow and steady against the curve of her ass. Her breath stuttered.

“Hyunjin—” she gasped.

“You feel that?” he murmured, rocking his hips into her again, achingly slow. “That’s what you do to me, sweetheart. Sitting here, all smart and needy in my shirt… trying so hard to stay focused while my fingers are deep inside your pretty little pussy…”

Her thighs trembled as she forced her eyes back to the screen. The next question blinked at her. She couldn’t even read it through the fog in her head — her whole body was vibrating with need, her clit throbbing against the soft brush of his thumb.

Still, she answered.

Right again.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice cracking with arousal now. “Look at you. You want my praise that bad, huh? Grinding that ass into me, all wet and eager, just to hear me say you’re doing good.”

He rolled his hips again, harder this time, dragging a moan from her lips.

“You’re killing me, baby,” he groaned, kissing down the line of her throat, his fingers moving faster now — deeper, hungrier. “But you’re being so good. So fucking good. Keep going for me, yeah? Let’s see how smart you can stay when I start fingering your brain out.”

Her fingers trembled as she tapped the next answer.

Another second passed. A soft ding.

“Right again,” Hyunjin murmured, voice thick with approval. “That’s four.”

His fingers stilled inside her. She whimpered, hips twitching to chase the rhythm, but he held her firmly in place.

“Don’t be greedy, baby,” he said, pulling his hand away completely. She gasped at the sudden emptiness.

“W-Why’d you stop?” she asked, voice shaking.

“Because good girls get rewarded, right?” He shifted behind her, the rustle of fabric loud in the quiet room. A moment later, she felt it — the heat of his bare skin against hers. He had pushed his boxers down, and now his cock was pressed along the curve of her ass, thick and hard and pulsing.

She shivered.

“That’s your reward,” he whispered, grinding against her slowly, deliberately. “Feel that? You’re making me this hard, baby. Just by getting your little quiz questions right.”

She whimpered, pressing her hips back into him. But his hand closed over her waist, halting her.

“Next question,” he said, breathless against her ear. “Let’s see if you can earn something more.”

She turned her attention back to the screen, barely able to read through the heat clouding her vision. Every nerve in her body was lit up, every breath shallow and desperate. She tapped another answer.

Wrong.

Hyunjin tsked. “Tsk tsk. You were doing so well.”

Before she could react, he gripped her hips and pulled her back against him harder. His cock slid between her thighs, not inside her yet — just teasing, the head brushing her soaked folds. She let out a strangled noise.

“Now,” he growled, voice lower than ever, “you don’t get to feel me anymore.”

He rolled her onto her back. Then he climbed over her, pinning her down with his body, his cock still teasing against her folds but not entering.

“You want it?” he asked, brushing his lips over hers.

She nodded frantically.

“Then earn it. Five more. Get three right, and I’ll fuck you the way you need me to. Get less…” His hand slid back between her legs, and he slapped her clit lightly. She gasped.

“I’ll make you come, sure,” he whispered, “but you won’t get me.”

Her body arched.

“But baby…” he added, kissing the corner of her mouth. “If you get all five right… I’ll let you come while I’m inside you. I’ll whisper how proud I am while you fall apart around my cock. Deal?”

She nodded again, dazed.

“Good girl,” he breathed.

And she started the next question — heart hammering, body trembling, more desperate for his praise than she was for the perfect score.

She sucked in a shaky breath and dragged the laptop back onto her lap, screen glowing bright against the dim room. Her legs fell open just slightly, the edge of the laptop nestled above her trembling thighs. Hyunjin hovered above her, one hand braced beside her head, the other lazily stroking his cock — slow and teasing — letting her see what she was working for.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “All flushed and smart… dripping for me while you study.”

She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad, nerves shot, body taut.

“Five questions,” he said again, voice a promise. “Get them right, and I’ll fuck you full. Slow, deep, no teasing. Just you, me, and this perfect little pussy.”

Her thighs clenched.

She clicked the next answer.

Correct.

Hyunjin hummed, satisfied. “That’s one, baby. Four to go. Come on, show me.”

The second question loaded — something about physics. Her brain was barely functioning, but she closed her eyes for one second, visualized the formula, and clicked.

Correct.

He groaned softly above her. “Two. Fuck, you’re killing me.”

She glanced up and saw it — the way his hand gripped tighter at the base of his cock, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on her like she was divine. Like he was holding himself back for her.

Third question. Literature. She didn’t even have to think — muscle memory took over.

Correct.

Hyunjin let out a low, breathless moan. “Three. You’re so smart, sweetheart. So fucking smart.”

He kissed her then — slow, tongue sliding over hers, reverent. Like she was something sacred. She whimpered into his mouth, hips lifting, needing more.

Fourth question. History. She hesitated. Then tapped.

Correct.

He swore under his breath and grabbed the base of his cock tighter, precum smearing across his hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. That’s four. One more, baby. Just one more and I’m yours.”

She could barely see. Her body was burning, brain half-melted. But she clicked.

Correct.

Silence.

She turned her Laptop.

Hyunjin stared at the screen, then back at her, and something in him broke.

“Perfect fucking score,” he breathed.

He grabbed the laptop, set it aside, and kissed her — hard. Desperate. Then he slid down her body, spreading her thighs wide with shaking hands.

“You’re gonna feel every inch,” he said, positioning himself at her entrance, voice hoarse. “And I’m not stopping until you come all over me.”

He pushed in slowly — so achingly slow she sobbed — stretching her open, filling her inch by inch. His hands were everywhere, caressing her face, her hips, her stomach like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“Look at you,” he whispered against her mouth. “Taking me so good… so fucking good…”

He bottomed out, groaning deep in his throat as she clenched around him.

“You did so well,” he panted, starting to move. “You worked so hard. You earned this, baby. This pussy was made to be fucked like this — slow, deep, and full of me.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist, holding him close as he fucked her — not hard, but deep. Intimate. Each thrust hit the spot perfectly, dragging cries from her lips.

“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing her jaw, her neck, her temple. “Take it, baby. Let me love you like this.”

Her walls fluttered around him, pleasure cresting high and hot in her belly.

“I want you to come just like this,” he said, burying himself deep. “With my cock inside you. Full of me. Proud of you.”

She shattered.

Her whole body arched, a cry ripped from her throat as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Hyunjin held her tight, fucked her through it, whispered how proud he was — over and over like a prayer.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, kissing her temple. “So fucking perfect.”

Her body was still twitching when Hyunjin pulled out, cock glistening with slick and twitching with the effort it took not to just sink right back in.

But then she gave him that look — glassy-eyed, lips parted, still trembling and soft and ruined — and he snapped.

“Still wet for me?” he whispered, dragging two fingers down between her legs, spreading her folds. She whimpered, too sensitive, but didn’t stop him. Couldn’t.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned. “You liked that, huh? Liked me praising your smart little brain while I fucked you dumb?”

Her head lolled back on the pillow, a broken moan slipping from her mouth.

Hyunjin leaned down, licking into her like he was starving — slow, deliberate laps of his tongue over her overstimulated clit until she was squirming, gasping, legs shaking against his shoulders.

“I said you earned it,” he murmured, mouth still between her thighs. “I didn’t say we were done.”

He didn’t stop until she came again — messier, louder this time — and then, before she could recover, he was climbing over her, cock slick with both their arousal.

“Gonna give you more,” he panted, not even asking this time as he slid in again, balls-deep in one slow thrust that made her choke on a moan. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t remember what an exam is.”

He set a brutal pace — not cruel, but hungry — dragging her down the bed with every thrust. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, arms limp above her head as he held her down, one hand gripping the headboard for leverage, the other caressing her thigh as if trying to soothe her through the overwhelming pace.

“Still doing so good for me,” he gasped, pressing his forehead against hers. “So fucking good. My good girl.”

She sobbed — overwhelmed, overstimulated, completely undone. Her body shook beneath him, slick and messy and so damn full.

“Wanna come inside you,” he moaned, losing rhythm as her walls clenched around him. “Fill you up ‘til it leaks out. You want that, baby?”

She nodded, frantic.

“Beg,” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “Come on. You got a perfect score — show me how bad you want your prize.”

She could barely speak, but the words tumbled out anyway. “Want you to come inside me, please— please, Hyunjin— I need it— I need you.”

That was it.

He came with a sharp cry, hips slamming into hers one last time as he spilled inside, filling her so deep she could feel it, warmth flooding her core. He stayed like that for a moment — buried to the hilt, panting, arms trembling.

Then he collapsed onto her chest, kissing her collarbones, her jaw, her forehead like a man in love.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re everything.”

She stroked his hair with shaky fingers, still catching her breath.

“I should try to fail more often, so you can motivate me” she joked weakly.

He laughed — real and soft — and kissed her gently. “Don’t you dare. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

He pulled out slowly, watching his cum spill from her with a groan, and reached for the towel beside the bed.

But before he could clean her up, she grabbed his wrist.

“Wait,” she murmured, eyes wide and sleepy. “Just… stay here. Like this. For a second.”

He paused.

Then dropped the towel and curled up beside her, pulling the blanket over their bodies, wrapping her tight in his arms.

“Okay,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Let’s stay forever.”

And she fell asleep like that — full of him, wrapped in him, her laptop still glowing softly at the foot of the bed, a perfect score blinking on the screen.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@sapphirewaves @bemyaehiweloveskz @velvetmoonlght

[sunshinesfreckless]

(Happy ?) Anniversary

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Felix x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing, Felix says “fuck” like 7 times

Summary: Your busy boyfriend tends to forget important dates due to his schedule—but this time, it was the last straw for you.

A/N: Uhhh, very unrelated to the fic, but I want the fic requesters to know that I’m working on literally every fic you cuties requested. Please be patient—I hope you guys don’t have to wait too long. I’m doing my best hehe xx Ily all!

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

She had prepared the flowers hours ago. White roses, trimmed with trembling hands, arranged carefully in the vase he once said reminded him of his mother’s home. Everything had to look perfect. She fluffed the pillows on the couch twice. Then again. The candles on the table flickered gently, casting soft golden shadows across the walls — warm and delicate, like the evening she had imagined so many times.

She adjusted the straps of her silk dress once more and she’d worn her hair the way he liked, like she hadn’t tried too hard, though she had. God, she had.

From the kitchen came the scent of the food she had made. The stew simmered low, the rice was fluffy and warm, and the side dish was plated like she had watched in that cooking video over and over again. It was all ready. She just needed him.

She picked up her phone again, screen lighting up with her own reflection, expectant and bright.

Y/N: The food is almost done. I can’t wait to see you tonight.

She smiled to herself. There was a nervous flutter in her chest. Two years. They had made it through so much.

She sat down on the edge of the sofa, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Her eyes flicked to the door every few minutes. Then to the clock. Then to her phone again.

Still no read receipt.

She bit the inside of her cheek and typed again.

Y/N: Are you on your way?

A beat.

Then another.

She waited. The stew began to cool. The candles burned lower.

She waited.

Seconds melted into minutes, minutes into nearly an hour. She checked the app again. Still no reply. Still no sign of him reading anything. She opened his location once — just for a second — then quickly closed it. She hated doing that. She hated that she had to.

She stood and began to pace, heels softly clicking against the wooden floor. Maybe he was caught up in rehearsal. Maybe there was an emergency. Maybe the manager needed him. Maybe—

But she knew. Deep down, she always knew. He wasn’t coming.

She sat back down, slower this time. The candles had nearly burnt to the bottom. The flowers had begun to wilt at the edges — or maybe it was just her vision blurring. She wasn’t sure anymore.

The dress suddenly felt tight. Like a costume for a part she hadn’t been chosen for. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again, but this time she couldn’t think of anything to write that didn’t sound like begging.

So she stayed still. Alone in the quiet room she had tried so hard to fill with love. The room smelled like food nobody would eat. Music still played low in the background, a playlist he had once made for her.

Two years.

And still, she had never felt more invisible.

Her thumb hovered over the call button, hesitation curling in her stomach like smoke. But she tapped it anyway.

Changbin picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Bunny,” he greeted cheerfully, completely unaware of the ache she was holding in her chest.

She forced a smile he couldn’t see. “Hi Binnie…” Her voice was soft, hesitant. “Is, um… is Felix with you?”

There was a brief pause on the other end as he pulled the phone away and called out to the others in the background. Muffled voices responded, then a rustle as he returned to the line.

“No, he’s not. I thought he was with you — didn’t we all clear out of the dorm just so you guys could celebrate tonight?”

Her cheeks flushed with shame, though there was no one in the room to see it. She glanced at the untouched food, the dying candles, the table she’d poured her heart into.

“Yeah… I thought so too,” she said quickly, trying to cover her disappointment. “Maybe he got caught in traffic or something.”

They said their goodbyes, and she hung up. The silence settled again like a heavy coat on her shoulders.

Just as she sat back down, trying to swallow the sting in her throat, the front door creaked open.

She heard a familiar sniff — the kind he always did when he came in from the cold. Then the soft sound of his boots on the wooden floor. He stepped into the apartment, cheeks flushed pink from the winter air, a black beanie pulled low over his blonde hair. His glasses slid a little down his nose as he looked up.

“Oh, hey,” he said casually, giving her a faint smile. “Smells good in here.”

Then he saw her eyes.

Swollen. Red. Quiet in a way that wasn’t like her.

His smile faltered instantly.

“Wait… are you okay, babe?” he asked, concern blooming on his face as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. His eyes darted around. “Where are the guys?”

Of course. He still didn’t realize.

She stood slowly, her hands clenched at her sides. Her voice came out so small it barely carried across the room.

“Do you know what day it is today?”

He blinked, confused. “Yeah, I had that fitting today. For Nicolas—”

She let out a short breath, almost a scoff. “No, Felix.” Her voice cracked a little. “I mean our day.”

It hit him then.

His gaze snapped to the table — the candles now half-burned, the cold food still untouched, the carefully arranged white roses she had picked just for tonight. His face paled.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, breath catching. He dropped his bag to the floor like it weighed a thousand pounds. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I… I completely—”

She stepped back when he moved toward her.

“Don’t, Felix.”

He stopped mid-step, heart in his throat. “Please, baby. I swear I didn’t mean to forget. Things got so hectic and—”

She shook her head, eyes shining again with unshed tears. And this time, she didn’t hide them.

She stood there, arms loosely wrapped around herself as if trying to hold something inside from spilling out. Her voice was low, almost hollow, when she said it.

“Yeah. Obviously… This isn’t the first time.”

Felix froze in front of her. His hand hovered mid-air, like he had meant to reach out and touch her, but her words stopped him cold. His face crumpled for a second — just a flicker — before he tried to pull himself together.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I know.” She gave a small laugh, sharp and tired. “You never mean to. That’s the thing, Lix. It’s never cruel. It’s never deliberate. But it still hurts the same.”

The air between them grew heavy, a silence so loud it pressed on both their chests.

He swallowed hard.

“I had the fitting, and then Chan called and we had to—”

“I’m not asking for excuses,” she cut him off, voice trembling. “I’m not even asking for much, Felix. Just to matter a little more than whatever the hell always comes first.”

He flinched at that.

“That’s not fair,” he muttered.

“Isn’t it?”

He looked at her then — really looked. And for a terrifying second, she saw it in his face: the anger, the frustration. Not at her, not really, but at the impossible reality of his life. The life she had once told him she understood. Did she really ?

“You knew what this was,” he finally said, voice low and raw. “You knew what it meant to be with me. The schedule. The travel. The pressure. I don’t get to forget fittings or rehearsals or appearances. If I let people down, I don’t just apologize and move on — I lose everything.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him with wide, wet eyes, like he’d just broken something that had already been cracking for far too long.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “but what about me, Felix?”

He went still.

“What do I lose?” she asked. “I sit here waiting, I make the dinner, I light the candles, I put on a fucking dress I haven’t worn in a year, and you… you don’t even remember. You walk in like it’s Tuesday.”

He took a shaky breath. “Baby, please…”

She stepped back before he could reach for her. “Do you know how humiliating it is? Calling Changbin just to ask where you are? Hoping maybe you were in traffic — begging the universe for a traffic jam to cover for the fact that you just forgot me?”

Felix’s eyes were glassy now. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“You’re everything to me,” he said finally, quietly. “You know that, right?”

She looked at him — her voice so soft it nearly shattered him.

“Then why do I feel like nothing?”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Felix snapped, voice tight, eyes burning. “You know that’s not fair. That’s bullshit.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, glossed with unshed tears. But she didn’t flinch.

“Well your excuses are bullshit too,” she shot back, breath trembling. “You always have a reason, don’t you? Always something more important.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “What the fuck is your problem?” he growled. “It’s not an excuse—I’m sorry for being late, and I’m fucking sorry for forgetting our fucking anniversary, alright?”

She took a small step back. Not out of fear—but because the volume in his voice hurt more than she’d expected.

“We’ve talked about this!” he shouted, pacing now, his emotions spiraling faster than he could stop them. “So many goddamn times. You know how busy I am. We’re planning a whole comeback right now. I’ve barely slept in days, but I still came home. And now I’m the bad guy for being human? For slipping up once?”

She didn’t say anything. Her hands were starting to shake, but she curled them into fists to keep it hidden.

He scoffed bitterly, and when he looked at her again, something cruel slipped past the desperation.

“You are so fucking clingy, you know that?” he spat. “Always fucking needing something. Always fucking complaining when I can’t give you every second of my life. You should be grateful I even made it home tonight.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the sting of his words blooming into something sharp and cold in her lungs. He’d never yelled at her before. Not like this. Not with that look on his face, like she was just another burden.

She blinked fast, trying to keep her tears from falling, voice cracking as she whispered,

“…Well. I’m sorry, then.”

The front door creaked open.

The boys stepped inside, loud with laughter at first, but it died instantly when they saw her — standing still in the center of the room like she’d been hit by a truck. Her eyes were wet. Her shoulders drawn in tight, like she was trying to make herself small.

Felix grabbed his bag off the floor in one sharp movement.

Chan reached out instinctively. “Felix—”

But he shoved past him, jaw clenched, and stormed out without another word, the door slamming behind him.

Silence again.

Hyunjin stepped forward carefully. “What… happened?”

Chan looked at her with quiet alarm. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look up.

Just wiped her cheek roughly with the back of her hand, and with a voice small and tired beyond her years, she said,

“Suit yourselves. The food’s cold. You can heat it up.”

Then she turned and went upstairs, footsteps slow, dragging.

And when her door closed, she finally let herself break.

────୨ৎ────

Lee Know was halfway through a bowl of cereal, hoodie hood pulled halfway over his face, when the front door creaked open.

Felix stepped in, eyes tired, the beanie from last night still on his head.

“Morning,” his deep voice mumbled, scratchy from lack of sleep—or maybe from all the shouting.

Lee Know looked up from the kitchen counter.

“Where were you all night?”

Felix shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Slept over at Wooyoung’s.”

A pause.

Lee Know set his spoon down slowly, expression unreadable.

“Well… your girlfriend’s gone.”

That made Felix freeze.

“What do you mean ‘gone’?”

Footsteps padded on the stairs behind him as Changbin came down, stretching.

“Good morning to you too,” he muttered sarcastically.

Chan came down next, already dressed and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t look up when he spoke.

“Where’s Y/N?” Felix asked, voice tight.

“Could ask you that,” Chan said flatly, opening the fridge and pulling out the orange juice.

There was no pity in their eyes. No sympathy for the wide-eyed confusion dawning on his face.

Felix dug into his pocket for his phone, unlocking it with fumbling fingers. He typed out a quick message.

Felix: Where did you go?

Felix: Baby please say something

Felix: I’m sorry.

Delivered. But no response.

His chest squeezed.

Last night had been a blur of anger and guilt, and he’d tried to bury both by disappearing into the safety of someone else’s couch and letting silence do the talking. But now that she was actually gone—really gone—it hit him like a truck.

He leaned on the kitchen counter, staring at his phone, jaw clenched.

“She left before sunrise,” Lee Know added, softer this time. “Didn’t even take breakfast.”

“Did you seriously not check on her before walking out?” Changbin’s voice held a quiet frustration now. “Not even a note? A text? After yelling at her like that?”

Felix didn’t answer.

Chan looked up finally, folding his arms. “You can’t just throw words like that at her and expect everything to be fine the next morning, Felix. You hurt her. Really hurt her.”

“She didn’t even cry when she said goodbye,” Lee Know added. “That’s how you know it was bad.”

Felix gripped the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I know I fucked up,” he muttered.

“Then fix it,” Chan snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Unless you’re okay with losing her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” Felix said, almost yelling. Then quieter, like he was trying to convince himself, “Of course not.”

He opened her chat again. Still no reply.

Then he tried calling her.

Straight to voicemail.

He stared at the screen, jaw clenching tighter, guilt curling in his stomach like poison. He couldn’t even blame her. The words he’d thrown at her—he could still hear them in his own voice. Clingy. Grateful I came home. As if she hadn’t waited hours, set a table, built a moment for them to celebrate them—only to be made to feel like a burden.

And now she was gone.

Really gone.

────୨ৎ────

Felix paced the living room like a storm trapped in a bottle.

“Guys, please just tell me where she is,” he begged for the fifth time, turning to Han, who sat cross-legged on the floor tuning a guitar but hadn’t strummed a single string.

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Han said without looking up. “She needs space, and you need to understand why.”

Felix ran a hand through his messy hair, breath shaky. His voice dropped into a quieter plea.

“I just want to say sorry. Really this time.”

Across the room, Lee Know was leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed, silent and brooding. His cereal was forgotten and soggy in the bowl beside him. He didn’t speak, just stared at the floor. He hadn’t touched his phone in a while either, and his usual apathy looked more like discomfort now.

Then, slowly, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it with a sigh.

Felix watched with wide eyes, frozen in place.

Lee Know didn’t meet his gaze. He just lifted the phone to his ear and waited.

It rang once. Twice.

And then—click.

“Hi, princess,” Lee Know said softly, the corners of his mouth twitching in a rare, gentle smile. “Where are you?”

Felix swallowed hard, heart hammering.

A pause.

“Mm… I see. With Ryujin?” He glanced up, eyes flickering to Felix.

Felix exhaled, slumping down onto the couch, his head falling into his hands, relief crashing through his chest like a wave. His voice cracked slightly:

“Thank God…”

Lee Know pressed the phone closer, lowering his voice. “You know he was worried about you, right? Wouldn’t sit down. Keeps asking for you like a lost puppy.”

There was a silence as she responded on the other end. Lee Know listened with a slight nod. Then, he murmured, “Yeah… he knows. He’s been beating himself up since sunrise.”

Felix lifted his head, searching Lee Know’s face for any hint of hope.

Another pause.

And then—click.

The call ended.

Lee Know let the phone fall to his side, then turned to Felix.

“She said she was gonna come by tonight. Just to pick up some clothes.”

Felix shot up straight. “She’s coming back?”

Lee Know gave him a warning look. “She thinks you’re not gonna be here.”

Felix stood up too quickly, pacing again. “This is my only chance, right?”

“It’s not a performance, Felix,” Lee Know said coolly. “Don’t do it because you’re panicking. Do it because you actually get it now.”

Chan walked in just then, arms crossed and gaze sharp.

“Did I hear that right?” he said. “She’s coming over?”

Felix nodded, eyes hopeful. “Tonight.”

Chan raised his brows and scoffed. “After what happened, I’m honestly surprised she even wants to walk into the same apartment again.”

“Hyung—”

“No. Shut up for a second.”

Chan’s tone dropped. Firm. Controlled. Not yelling—but somehow worse than that.

“Do you even understand why she left?” he said. “Do you know what it does to someone to make a space just for you—light candles, cook, set the table—just to be treated like she’s overreacting? Like she’s clingy for wanting one fucking evening with the person she loves?”

Felix lowered his head.

“You didn’t just forget the anniversary, Felix. You made her feel like she was a burden for caring. And that’s the shit that sticks. That’s what people remember when they think about whether they feel safe with someone or not.”

The room fell quiet.

Even Lee Know didn’t chime in.

Chan stared at him a beat longer before sighing and turning away.

“If she shows up tonight, don’t just say sorry. Show her you actually mean it.”

Felix stood there, chest rising and falling, the weight of Chan’s words heavy in his bones.

He looked at the couch where she used to curl up beside him, the kitchen where she’d probably stood hours decorating a table for a night he never showed up for.

His heart thudded like a warning.

Tonight would either make or break everything.

────୨ৎ────

She hadn’t even taken off her shoes.

The hallway felt too quiet when she stepped inside, her fingers still trembling around the key she’d almost dropped twice. It was dark, except for a faint amber light flickering from the living room. She’d told herself she’d just grab her things, maybe leave a note. Maybe cry in the car after. She didn’t expect him to be here.

But when she turned the corner, she froze.

There he was.

On the couch.

Waiting.

His hair was a mess, clothes wrinkled like he hadn’t changed in a day, and his eyes—God, his eyes looked ruined.

“Hi,” he whispered.

She stayed by the doorway, fingers tightening around the handle of the overnight bag she planned to fill. The room smelled like her favorite vanilla candle—he’d lit all of them. The table was set again, this time clumsy but clearly him. Two plates. A reheated attempt at the same meal she had made. A half-wilted flower placed carefully beside the napkin.

It was almost laughable.

But her chest ached too much to laugh.

“Minho said you weren’t home,” she said, quietly.

He stood up. Slowly. Like he was afraid she’d bolt if he moved too fast.

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” he said, voice hoarse. “But I… I couldn’t let you come back to silence.”

She looked away.

“Y/N,” he stepped closer, but didn’t reach out. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Her eyes flickered to him, glossy already. She didn’t want to cry again. She really didn’t.

“You yelled at me,” she said. Her voice shook, the words barely above a whisper. “You’ve never done that before.”

He inhaled sharply like her words had sliced him.

“I know.” His voice broke. “I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

She looked at him then—really looked. His eyes were red, like he hadn’t slept. His hands trembled at his sides, and his lips were parted like he was still trying to find the right words to make everything right.

But there weren’t any.

So she said the thing that had haunted her the most.

“You made me feel small. Like I was annoying for loving you too much.”

He pressed his hands against his face, dragging them down in frustration before stepping forward again.

“No—no, baby, please. I never meant that. I never meant any of it.” His voice cracked. “You love me in the most beautiful way. You make spaces warm. You make days matter. I was stressed, and tired, and stupid—but I should’ve never, ever taken it out on you.”

Silence.

Her throat burned.

“I don’t want to be scared of you, Lix,” she said, and this time her voice broke. “I was scared when you yelled. I—I didn’t know what to do. You’ve never made me feel like that before and it…” She couldn’t finish.

He rushed to her then, falling to his knees in front of her.

“I swear to you,” he whispered, clutching the hem of her coat. “That’ll never happen again. I swear on everything—I’ll spend every day making sure you never feel that way. Please… please don’t give up on me.”

His eyes were shimmering, his fingers trembling against the fabric. She could feel the heat of his skin even through the coat.

“I miss you,” he said, choking the words out. “I miss you like my lungs miss air.”

She stood there for a long moment, heart in her throat, the space between them thick with unsaid hurt and love and regret.

Then she knelt too.

And wrapped her arms around him.

He broke.

Right there in her arms, the boy who had always held her like she was breakable shattered like glass in her embrace. He clung to her, face buried in her shoulder, breath ragged with sobs he no longer tried to hide.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” he kept whispering.

She stroked his hair gently, tears finally falling.

“I know,” she whispered back. “Just… don’t ever let me feel alone like that again.”

His arms tightened around her.

“Never,” he swore. “Not even for a second.”

And in that fragile moment, on the floor of their shared apartment, they started to put the pieces back together.

He held her like the world would collapse if he let go. And maybe, for him, it would have.

Still kneeling on the floor with her curled into his chest, Felix pressed his lips to her temple, voice thick but steady now. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

She didn’t answer, but he could feel the way her hand tightened at the back of his hoodie.

“I never meant to make you feel like an afterthought. And missing our anniversary—God, that’s on me. All of it is. You planned everything so beautifully, and I just… I wasn’t there. And I should’ve been.”

Her cheek pressed into his collarbone. He kissed the top of her head.

“From now on,” he whispered, “you’re part of everything. Not just the parts I have time for. I’ll make time. You shouldn’t have to beg for it.”

His words sank into her slowly, like balm on a bruise. And for once, she could tell he wasn’t just saying it—he meant it. He meant every word.

────୨ৎ────

It started small.

The next morning, he took her hand and asked if she’d come with him to the studio. Not just to drop him off. Not just for a coffee run. But to stay. With him.

She curled up on the couch. Watched the way he got lost in the music. Smiled every time he threw her a wink or made a goofy face mid-recording just to make her laugh.

The boys didn’t question it. Not once.

In fact, they loved it.

“You here for emotional support or to make sure he doesn’t forget your birthday too?” Changbin teased, and she threw a pillow at him while Felix grinned like an idiot behind his laptop.

She helped Hyunjin organize props for their SKZ Talker behind-the-scenes vlog. Chan gave her the camera once and let her film a whole segment herself. Felix kept sneaking in frames to kiss her cheek, until Lee Know pushed him out of the way with a deadpan, “Let her work, she’s better than you at this.”

Felix took her to late-night practice, where she watched them run the same choreo until their shirts clung to their backs. She clapped louder than anyone.

“I don’t care how tired I am,” he whispered during water breaks, forehead resting against hers. “As long as you’re here.”

She sat beside him at brand meetings, picked out outfits with the stylists, got a backstage pass to his world—and not once did he make her feel like she was in the way.

He asked her opinion.

He held her hand.

He told every staff member who looked surprised to see her, “She’s staying. That’s my girl.”

And every night when they got home, he’d wrap his arms around her and murmur:

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@sapphirewaves @bemyaehiweloveskz @velvetmoonlght

[sunshinesfreckless]

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

「 ୨ৎ 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ୨ৎ 」

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

𝐹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓍 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ Technical Difficulties (MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ Beach Hazard (MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ His Spoiled Princess (MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ Every Girl Gets Her Wish Part 1. , Part 2. (ft. Hyunjin,

MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ Drive Me Crazy (MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ Midnight Calls (MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ Non - Disclosure Pregnancy

୨ৎ Soft Kisses

୨ৎ (Happy ?) Anniversary

𝐻𝓎𝓊𝓃𝒿𝒾𝓃 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ Boquets and Cute Cashiers

୨ৎ Every Girl Gets Her Wish Part 1. , Part 2. (ft. Felix, MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ Academic Achievements (MDNI, 18+)

୨ৎ His Spoiled Muse (MNDI, 18+)

𝐵𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ His Spoiled Girl (MDNI, 18+)

𝒥𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ His Spoiled Doll (MDNI, 18+)

𝒮𝑒𝓊𝓃𝑔𝓂𝒾𝓃 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ His Spoiled Diamond (MDNI, 18+)

𝐻𝒶𝓃 𝒥𝒾𝓈𝓊𝓃𝑔 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ His Spoiled Babe (MDNI, 18+) coming soon….

𝐿𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ His Spoiled Brat (MDNI, 18+) coming soon….

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒷𝒾𝓃 (𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓈) :

୨ৎ His Spoiled Bunny (MDNI, 18+) coming soon….

[sunshinesfreckless]

Hey!!! First of all I’ve loved reading your fics!! They’re just so incredible and good and I just absolutely love them. ❤️❤️ Also, I was wondering if you have a tag list?? And if you do could I be added to it?

i do have a taglist from now on !!! (still new to this mystical app so it takes me a while to figure all of this out) i‘ll add you to it ! And thank you sweetheart 🤍

[sunshinesfreckless]

do you do weddings.. as in like the bride (or the groom !!)

the bride, yes…. come here sweetie 😍😘