Helloooooo I’m DieKleineSuesse( German for the little sweet one ). I’m a 20 years old lil girl From Germany that gets way to attached to fictional characters
Jongho loving you in the loudest way he knows how by insisting you deserve everything
It started as an ordinary Saturday afternoon, with sunlight filtering through the blinds and dust motes dancing lazily in the warm air. You were curled up on the sofa in your apartment, a mug of coffee in your hands and a blanket wrapped around your legs, when Jongho appeared at the doorway, looking like a storm of energy ready to take over your peaceful weekend.
“Babe,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe with that grin that always made your heart skip, “why are you sitting here like some kind of sad little potato? We’re going out.”
You groaned, sinking deeper into the sofa. “Jongho… it’s Saturday. I don’t want to go out.”
He crouched down in front of you, resting his elbows on his knees, and tilted his head with exaggerated concern. “No, no, no, this is unacceptable behavior. A Saturday wasted is a tragedy. Come on, I’m taking care of everything. You don’t even need to bring your wallet.”
You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Everything? Including the cost?”
“Especially the cost,” he said, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I insist. You don’t spend a single won. I’ve got you. You just… enjoy yourself. That’s it.”
You smiled, but shook your head. “Jongho… I can pay. I don’t want you spending so much money on me all the time.”
He laughed, a deep, affectionate sound that seemed to fill the room. “You’re missing the point. I love spending money on you. It makes me happy. Plus…” he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a mock whisper, “I have this little thing called a card, and it’s basically made for spoiling you. Seriously, it’s like it knows you exist.”
You laughed softly, trying to pull the blanket tighter around yourself. “I really don’t need”
“Shh,” he interrupted, plopping down beside you and taking the blanket from your lap with gentle force. “No arguments. No debates. No protests. You just… use my card. That’s all. Let me love you like this.”
“I don’t”
“Don’t think, just swipe!” he said dramatically, holding an imaginary credit card in the air. He leaned back on the sofa, flopping like a spoiled cat, and grinned. “Imagine it, love: you could get anything you want. That cute bag you’ve been eyeing for months? Mine. That ridiculously expensive dessert you’ve been craving? Mine. Even that concert ticket that costs a fortune? Totally mine. All yours.”
You shook your head again, laughing despite yourself. “Jongho… you don’t have to do that. I’m fine. Really.”
But Jongho wasn’t listening. He had already hopped up, arms wide, theatrically gesturing toward your closet. “Fine, then! But don’t blame me if one day you look at yourself in the mirror and realize you’re lacking essential things in life like the softest pajamas, the fluffiest slippers, matching mugs for us, and that limited-edition plushie that I am clearly willing to buy for you!”
He stopped, catching his breath like he’d just completed a one-man performance. Then he crouched down in front of you again, eyes shining with playful intensity. “Look, I can see the wheels turning in that cute little head of yours. You’re thinking, ‘I should say no…’ but you know what? You deserve it. You deserve everything I can give you and more. So why are you being stubborn?”
“I… I just don’t want you to spend”
“Wrong answer!” he declared, wagging a finger. “You don’t get to say that. I want to spend it. And I will.”
By this point, you were laughing so hard you almost dropped your coffee, and Jongho, sensing victory or at least a moral win pounced. He draped himself over you, half sitting, half lying on the sofa, and rested his chin on your shoulder. “See? You’re uncomfortable. That’s fine. It’s cute. But also… you know you love it. Admit it.”
You shook your head, muffling a giggle. “I do not”
“You do!” he said triumphantly, pecking the side of your neck. “You love knowing that I want to spoil you, even if you pretend not to. You love it. And the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can start telling me what to buy next!”
“You’re ridiculous,” you said, laughing again, pushing at his chest lightly.
He grinned, ignoring your protest, and pulled out his phone. “Ridiculous? Maybe. But effective? Definitely. Watch this.” He opened an app, fingers flying over the screen, and a few seconds later he held it out to you. “See? Gift card. Unlimited happiness. You just… click ‘buy’ and the world is yours.”
“I can’t just-….”
“Yes, you can.” He leaned so close you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. “In fact, I insist. I insist, because loving you includes spoiling you. If you think I’m going to let you pay for anything while I can… well, that’s just cruel. And I’m not cruel. I’m tender. And very rich.”
You finally laughed outright, shaking your head. “Tender and rich. That’s a scary combo.”
“Exactly!” he said with mock seriousness. “And dangerous. You might be addicted to my generosity. You might start expecting it.”
“I-….”
“You might fall deeper in love with me than you already have.” He pressed his forehead to yours, smiling warmly. “And honestly, if that happens, I’ll consider it a win.”
For a long moment, you just laughed, wrapped up in his arms, enjoying the absurdity and sweetness of it all. And Jongho, seeing that your defenses were slowly crumbling, couldn’t resist ramping it up.
“Okay, let’s talk logistics,” he said, sitting up slightly to look at you with exaggerated professionalism. “Step one: pick one thing. ANYTHING. Step two: click ‘buy.’ Step three: I pay. Step four: you smile. Step five: repeat indefinitely. Sound simple?”
You groaned, leaning back against him. “It’s… kind of simple, I guess. But I still feel guilty.”
“Guilty?” he echoed, laughing, and tugged you into another hug. “Guilt is for people who don’t love each other. And we do. So there’s no room for guilt. Only room for spoiling. And snacks. And maybe some ice cream. And definitely some fries. And okay, fine, everything you want, you get. That’s my promise.”
Your heart melted. “Jongho…”
“Yes?” he asked, tilting his head, that playful sparkle in his eyes now softened into something tender and sincere.
“Thank you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him.
He grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “No, thank you for letting me spoil you. Honestly, it’s… one of my favorite things in the world. Watching you hesitate, watching you slowly give in, and then seeing that little smile perfection. Absolute perfection.”
You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest betrayed your smile. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” he said, already reaching for his phone again. “Now… what’s the first thing on the list?”
You shook your head, laughing, but your heart was full. Because as much as you pretended to resist, you knew deep down: Jongho loved spoiling you, and somehow, it made you love him even more.
And somewhere between the dramatic declarations, the teasing persistence, and the inevitable laughter, you realized that maybe letting him buy you things wasn’t really about the money it was about letting him show his love in his own, impossibly enthusiastic way.
And honestly… you didn’t mind at all.
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
I hope you enjoyed it. Leave a like, comment, or follow if you did. You can even repost and remember my requests are always open. 😊 <3
Reservations at a small, intimate restaurant he knew you’d love. A new place that had just opened and was impossible to book.
Even your favorite spot the one you always said was “too expensive for no reason.”
Every single time, you’d said the same thing.
“No, Woo. Let’s just stay in.”
And every single time, he’d pouted like the world had personally wronged him.
Right now, he was standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, arms crossed, leaning against the counter, watching you sit on the couch with your legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone like you hadn’t just crushed his carefully planned dinner date.
“You know,” he said, tone suspiciously calm, “normal people let their boyfriends take them out.”
You didn’t even look up. “I am normal.”
“Lies.”
You smiled. “I just don’t want you spending money when we can eat at home.”
Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not spending money. It’s me spoiling you.”
“You spoil me enough.”
He stared at you for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly.
“…Okay.”
You finally looked up, suspicious. “That was too easy.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said sweetly. “I found a loophole.”
The kitchen looked like a cooking show set.
Ingredients were neatly laid out. Fresh herbs. Vegetables already washed and chopped. Meat marinating in a bowl on the counter. A playlist of soft R&B playing quietly in the background.
You stood in the doorway, blinking.
“…Wooyoung.”
He tied an apron around his waist—
He tied an apron around his waist his apron, the one he’d insisted on buying because it made him feel “official” and glanced over his shoulder with a grin.
“You won’t let me take you to a restaurant,” he said. “So I brought the restaurant to you.”
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
He pointed his knife at you dramatically. “I did. For love.”
You laughed softly, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you making?”
“Everything.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He shrugged. “You’ll see. Sit. Relax. Be pretty.”
“I’m already pretty.”
He paused, looked at you, and smiled like he’d just fallen in love all over again. “Exactly.”
You tried to help, of course.
You always did.
But Wooyoung shooed you away the second you reached for a cutting board.
“Nope.”
“I can help.”
“You can help by sitting there and letting me cook for you.”
“But-….”
He stepped closer, hands gently on your shoulders, guiding you back toward the couch. “This is my compromise. You don’t want me spending money outside, so I’m spending effort inside.”
Your heart did that stupid flutter again.
“…You’re really good at this, you know.”
“I know,” he said smugly. “I’m an excellent boyfriend.”
As he cooked, the apartment filled with warmth and smell garlic sizzling, herbs blooming in the pan, something rich and comforting simmering slowly.
You watched him from the couch, chin resting on your hand.
Wooyoung moved confidently, naturally. Tasting, adjusting, humming along to the music. Every now and then he’d glance over at you, catch you staring, and grin.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re attractive when you cook.”
He laughed. “Only when I cook?”
“…Especially when you cook.”
He pretended to consider it. “Maybe I should cook more often then.”
“You already do.”
“And yet you still won’t let me take you out.”
You smiled softly. “This feels better than a restaurant.”
He paused for just a second, back to you.
“…Yeah?”
You nodded. “It feels like us.”
He swallowed, then went back to stirring the pan, shoulders a little more relaxed.
When dinner was finally ready, he plated everything carefully like he actually was running a restaurant. Even wiped the edges of the plates with a towel before carrying them to the table.
He lit a candle.
One candle.
Because, in his words, “We’re romantic, not dramatic.”
You sat down, staring at the food.
“Wooyoung,” you whispered. “This looks amazing.”
He leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching you expectantly. “Taste it.”
You did.
And you immediately froze.
“…Oh my god.”
He smirked. “Good, right?”
“This is really good.”
“Told you.”
You ate slowly, savoring it, eyes widening with every bite. Wooyoung watched you like this was the entire point like your reactions were worth more than any restaurant bill.
“You happy?” he asked quietly.
You nodded. “Really happy.”
He reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “Then I did my job.”
Later, you were curled up together on the couch, full and warm and content, your head resting against his chest.
“You know,” you murmured, “this was perfect.”
He kissed the top of your head. “Still counts as a date.”
“You didn’t spend money.”
“I spent time.”
You smiled.
“…Thank you for respecting my boundaries.”
He hummed. “And thank you for letting me love you my way.”
You tilted your head up to look at him. “Even when your way includes aggressively trying to spoil me?”
He grinned. “Especially then.”
You laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw.
And Wooyoung held you tighter, already planning the next meal because if he couldn’t take you out, he’d cook the world for you instead.
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
All done here 🫶. Hope you loved it! Likes, comments, and follows are appreciated, and yes… my requests are always open 💛
Financially responsible, emotionally devastating, banned from cooking alone.
Yeosang didn’t fall in love loudly.
There was no dramatic confession under fireworks, no grand speech delivered with shaking hands and tears in his eyes. His love settled in quietly, patiently like it knew it was meant to stay. It existed in the smallest moments first: the way his gaze lingered on you when you weren’t looking, the way he always made sure you walked on the inside of the sidewalk, the way he memorized your preferences without ever announcing it.
Milk tea, less sugar.
Hoodies two sizes too big.
That little pause before you admitted you wanted something.
He noticed everything.
And somewhere along the way, without fanfare or warning, Yeosang made a decision so firm it felt almost instinctual.
He wanted to take care of you.
In every way he could.
Which, unfortunately for you, included spoiling you relentlessly and just as unfortunately for him, you absolutely refused to let him.
It started the same way it always did.
You were out together, wandering aimlessly through a shopping district, hands brushing more than holding because neither of you felt the need to cling. You stopped in front of a store window just for a moment. You didn’t even step inside. Your eyes lingered, your expression softened, and then you moved on like nothing happened.
Yeosang clocked it immediately.
Inside the store was something simple. Not flashy. Something that fit you perfectly in his mind. And that was enough.
When you were back in the car later, you found it waiting for you.
“Yeosang,” you said, disbelief clear in your voice.
He glanced over, calm, almost shy. “You liked it.”
“I said I was just looking.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t ask you to buy it.”
“I know that too.”
You sighed, torn between warmth and frustration. “You can’t keep doing this.”
He reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you spending all your money on me.”
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t brush it off. He just met your gaze steadily. “It’s my money,” he said softly. “And I want to spend it on you.”
That should’ve been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
From then on, Yeosang’s encouragement became constant.
Gentle. Persistent. Impossible to ignore.
“Get it,” he’d murmur when you hesitated over a menu.
“Use my card,” he’d say casually when you frowned at a price tag.
“I already put it in your phone,” he admitted once, far too innocently.
“For emergencies,” he added when you stared at him.
“Yeosang, shoes are not an emergency.”
“They are if you want them.”
You refused every time. Or at least, you tried to.
You sent money back. You scolded him lightly. You told him you didn’t want to feel like you were taking advantage of him, didn’t want to feel like a burden.
That word stayed with him.
So he found other ways to take care of you.
That was how the cooking incident happened.
It was supposed to be a surprise.
You’d had a long week he knew that much. Your shoulders were tense, your replies slower, your smiles tired around the edges. Yeosang watched you curl into yourself on the couch that evening, phone forgotten in your lap, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
“I’ll make dinner,” he said suddenly.
You blinked up at him. “You will?”
“Yes.”
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Yeosang… you can’t cook.”
“I can try,” he said earnestly.
That should’ve been your warning.
You offered to help. He refused, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and insisting you rest. So you stayed put, listening to him move around the kitchen drawers opening, cabinets closing, the unmistakable sound of something clattering to the floor.
Then came the smell.
Burning.
You were on your feet immediately.
“Yeosang?”
“I’m fine,” he called out quickly. Too quickly.
You rounded the corner to find him staring down at a pan with the most betrayed expression you’d ever seen on his face. Something inside it was… unidentifiable. The heat was too high. The sauce too thick. The smoke alarm dangerously close to going off.
You burst out laughing before you could stop yourself.
He looked at you, ears turning red. “I followed the recipe.”
“You followed it emotionally,” you teased, stepping closer.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just wanted to make something for you.”
Your laughter softened instantly. You reached out, taking his wrist gently. “Come on,” you said. “We’ll do it together.”
That seemed to restore him completely.
You stood side by side, redoing everything from scratch. He chopped things unevenly while you corrected him. You nudged his hip when he stood too close. He stole ingredients when he thought you weren’t looking.
At some point, his card ended up on the counter.
“What’s that for?” you asked.
“Ingredients,” he said immediately.
“We already have everything.”
“You might want dessert.”
You raised an eyebrow.
He smiled that small, hopeful smile. “Use my card.”
You shook your head, but you didn’t push it away this time.
The food wasn’t perfect. It was slightly overcooked. A little messy. But you sat together on the floor, backs against the couch, sharing bites and quiet laughter.
“This is good,” you said honestly.
He relaxed instantly. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
He watched you eat like he’d won something.
Later that night, curled up together, you finally understood something.
Yeosang didn’t spoil you to show off.
He didn’t cook for praise.
He didn’t insist because he thought you needed him.
He did it because loving you made him want to give.
Because taking care of you felt natural.
Because your happiness however small felt worth everything.
So the next time he pressed his card into your hand and whispered, “Get it,” you hesitated only a second before nodding.
And the way he smiled?
Like you’d just given him the world.
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
i’m so sorry for disappearing like that. the past few weeks i’ve been struggling with my mental health, but i’m doing better now and trying my best to be active regularly again. likes, comments, reblogs, and follows are very much appreciated. love you, leo <3
snow, laughter, lego pieces, and the boy who insists on buying his significant other everything
The first snow of the season had always been Seonghwa’s favorite.
Not because of the weather itself though he did like how quiet the world got when it snowed but because of how your eyes lit up the second you saw it.
You’d been standing by the window that morning, wrapped in one of his sweaters, watching the flakes drift past the glass. The city outside was blanketed in white, soft and shimmering.
Seonghwa came up behind you, arms looping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” he murmured.
“Mhm. It looks like something out of a storybook.”
“You look like something out of a storybook,” he countered easily, kissing your cheek.
You laughed and swatted his arm, but he only smiled that soft, unbothered Seonghwa smile that said he’d say it again and again if it made you blush.
✦ Snow Day Shenanigans
It wasn’t long before he was dragging you outside.
At first, you complained. “It’s freezing, Seonghwa!”
But he was already helping you zip up your coat, wrapping his scarf around your neck twice and tucking the ends into your jacket.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, adjusting your hat like he was tucking in a child. “Besides, we can’t waste perfect snow.”
Outside, the world was quiet except for the soft crunch of boots in snow.
The park was nearly empty just you, him, and an expanse of untouched white.
You turned to him with a mischievous grin.
“Bet I can make a better snow angel than you.”
“Is that a challenge?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Absolutely.”
You both flopped down into the snow, laughing as the cold immediately seeped through your clothes. You spread your arms and legs, creating uneven wings, and when you both stood up, Seonghwa’s angel looked perfect. Of course it did. His movements were precise, neat, deliberate as if even snow angels had to be crafted beautifully by him.
You frowned.
“That’s not fair. Yours looks like it belongs in a museum.”
“Yours looks like it has… character,” he teased, brushing snow off your hair.
“Are you calling my snow angel ugly?”
“I’m saying it’s unique.”
You threw a handful of snow at him.
And that’s when the war began.
Snowballs flew back and forth, Seonghwa ducking behind a tree and you diving behind a bench, both of you laughing so hard your cheeks hurt. He was too good at it somehow always managing to hit you right when you thought you had the upper hand.
When you finally called a truce, both of you were breathless, covered in snow, and grinning like children.
Seonghwa walked up to you, brushing stray snowflakes from your lashes.
“You’re freezing,” he said softly.
“Whose fault is that?”
“Mine, probably.”
He smiled and leaned forward, kissing the tip of your cold nose.
“Come on. Hot chocolate. My treat.”
You started to protest “I can pay for my own-…” but he silenced you with a look. That knowing, playful, don’t even try it kind of look.
“Don’t make me hide my card in your pocket again,” he said.
“You wouldn’t.”
“You know I would.”
He would, and you both knew it.
✦ Building Snowmen and Sweet Bribes
On the way back, he insisted on one more thing building a snowman.
He crouched down in the middle of the courtyard, starting to roll a perfect snowball that quickly grew in size.
You joined in, shaping the middle section, and soon enough there was a lopsided snowman between you. Seonghwa, being Seonghwa, took it way too seriously sculpting its face with careful precision and adjusting its scarf like he was styling it for a magazine shoot.
“He needs a name,” he declared.
“He looks like a Kevin.”
“Kevin?” Seonghwa frowned. “No, no. He looks more like a… Winston.”
“That’s so pretentious.”
“He’s a classy snowman.”
You couldn’t stop laughing. He looked so proud of his creation, brushing the snow from his gloves, admiring it like it was a masterpiece.
Then, of course, he pulled out his phone.
“Okay, smile with Winston.”
“You’re seriously taking a picture of this?”
“It’s for memories. Also, I’m setting it as my lock screen.”
He wasn’t joking he really did.
✦ Cozy Lego Dates
Later that evening, after thawing out under blankets and sipping hot chocolate (which, of course, he paid for despite your protests), Seonghwa set something on the coffee table.
A Lego set.
A huge one the kind that took hours to build.
“What’s this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Our date night project.”
“You bought this?”
“Mmh. For us.”
“Seonghwa-….”
“Don’t even start. You’re not paying me back for it.”
You gave him a look, but he just grinned, already unpacking the colorful pieces and sorting them by color and size.
“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, sitting beside him.
“And yet, you love me,” he said easily.
You tried to stay annoyed, but the sight of him completely absorbed in the tiny bricks, brow furrowed in concentration, made your heart melt.
Hours passed like that music playing softly in the background, the both of you leaning close, laughing when pieces didn’t fit or when one of you accidentally knocked over part of the build. He’d sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking, his smile small but full of contentment.
Sometimes he’d hand you a piece before you even asked for it, like he somehow knew exactly which one you needed.
Sometimes he’d “accidentally” brush your fingers just to see you blush.
And when you finished, long past midnight, he pulled you into his arms, murmuring,
“See? Worth every penny.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
✦ The Little Things
That was the thing about Seonghwa. His love wasn’t loud or showy it was quiet, steady, built from small moments that stacked up like those Lego bricks.
He tried to spoil you not because he thought you needed anything, but because he wanted you to feel cherished. Whether it was buying you coffee before you woke up, sneaking his card into your bag, or spending a snowy afternoon turning into an oversized kid with you it all meant the same thing.
“I don’t need you to spend money on me to know you love me,” you told him once.
He just smiled, tracing his thumb along your cheek.
“I know. But let me, sometimes. It makes me happy.”
And somehow, you couldn’t argue with that.
So, the next time he offered, you didn’t fight as hard.
You let him buy you that extra Lego set, let him pay for the hot chocolate, let him treat you without guilt.
Because you finally understood it wasn’t about the money. It was about him, showing his love in the only way he knew how: through warmth, thoughtfulness, and a thousand little gestures that made even the coldest snowy day feel like home.
hope you enjoyed tagging along while Seonghwa tried to spoil his s/o (definitely not me projecting my own snow-day fantasies 😅) if it made you smile, like, reblog, comment, or follow! wanna be added to the taglist? drop a comment and i’ll add you!
“four parts are already up—hongjoong, mingi, san, and yunho all trying to convince their s/o to let them spoil them just once ✨ now it’s your turn to decide who’s next! which ateez member should try their hand at pampering their s/o? drop your vote below so i know who to write next 👀💖
Yunho proves that love isn’t about price tags, but about every quiet little way he notices what makes you shine.
Yunho never hid the way he loved: it was steady, warm, and if he could get away with it, generously extravagant.
From the beginning he would show up with small surprises: a perfectly chilled bottle of your favorite drink, a box of the exact tea you had mentioned in passing, a spare charger left in your bag so you would never be caught at 1 percent.
You always caught him.
“Yunho, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” he would answer with that soft, boyish grin that made it hard to scold him.
One quiet Saturday he tried again, this time bigger.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee woke you before the alarm. When you blinked awake, Yunho leaned in the doorway, mug in hand, eyes bright.
“Morning,” he said. “Pack a small bag with comfy clothes and something nice for dinner. We are going away for the night.”
You sat up, suspicious. “Going where?”
“A tiny coastal inn. Fireplace in every room. Cliff trails, ocean view. I booked the best room they had.”
“Sounds expensive,” you said, narrowing your eyes.
He crossed the room, crouching so his face was level with yours.
“Don’t worry about that. I just want us to breathe for a day. You deserve it.”
“Yunho,” you warned, “you know how I feel about you spending.”
He gave a long, dramatic sigh. “You never let me spoil you.”
“I let you spoil me with coffee and hugs,” you said, taking the mug. “That is plenty.”
He chuckled, already recalculating. “Okay. Compromise. Road trip, no hotel. We will wander, find good food, chase a sunset. Deal?”
You considered, then nodded. “Deal.”
By late morning you were driving through quiet neighborhoods with the windows down, autumn air cool and crisp. You queued your favorite playlist while Yunho drummed along on the steering wheel, stealing glances at you like you were the scenery he had driven to see.
A block later a hand painted sign caught your eye: Maple & Ink Books – Rare, New & Loved.
Your steps slowed instinctively.
Yunho noticed instantly. “Bookstore?”
You tried for casual. “Maybe just a quick look.”
Inside, warm light pooled over crooked shelves and the faint smell of paper and ink wrapped around you. A quiet jazz melody floated from a speaker near the counter.
You drifted toward the manga wall, fingertips tracing colorful spines. “I’ve wanted to read this one forever,” you murmured, half to yourself.
“Get it,” Yunho said easily.
You shook your head. “I have plenty at home.”
He only smiled and wandered off, or so you thought. In reality, he doubled back to the counter, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper.
“Everything they linger on,” he told the clerk, “please set aside. I will take it all.”
The clerk blinked, then grinned. “Got it.”
You moved on, pausing at an art book filled with luminous sketches, a new fantasy novel, a limited edition manga box set. Each time you returned the item carefully to the shelf. Each time Yunho reappeared like a shadow, giving the clerk a silent nod.
By the time you carried a single paperback to the register, Yunho was ready.
“I’ll pay,” he said smoothly, already sliding his card across the counter.
“I can-….”
“Nope. Sunshine break outside for you.”
You eyed him but let it go, stepping into the golden afternoon.
Hours later, after a leisurely lakeside picnic and a drive through fire colored trees, you followed him into his apartment. He set a large paper bag on the couch and began pulling out books, every single title you had admired.
Your mouth fell open. “Yunho!”
He grinned, completely unrepentant. “You looked at them like they were treasures. So I got them.”
“I told you not to.”
“I know,” he said gently, taking your hands. “But I also know you will read them a hundred times and smile every single time. That is worth it to me.”
“You are impossible,” you muttered.
“And you love it,” he replied, eyes crinkling.
Instead of an expensive inn, you ended up with something better. Yunho cooked pasta from scratch, garlic and herbs filling the kitchen. Candles flickered while soft acoustic music played. Later, you built a blanket fort in the living room, the scent of fresh pages mixing with warm candlelight as you read manga side by side.
That night summed up your entire relationship. Yunho endlessly trying to spoil you, whether with weekend getaways, the latest tablet for your art, or a secret stack of books, and you gently, lovingly refusing anything that felt too lavish.
But he never stopped offering, and you never stopped catching the quiet ways he cared:
• Sliding a new phone cable into your bag before the old one frayed.
• Driving you to early appointments so you could sleep longer.
• Learning to make your favorite café drink at home, right down to the perfect foam.
He might never get to book the fancy ocean view suite, but he still found ways to wrap his love around you, soft, practical, and unmistakably his.
And as you curled up against him that night, a pile of new books within reach, you could not help thinking that Yunho’s version of spoiling you, full of small surprises, respect, and quiet devotion, was the richest gift of all.
————————————————————————
hope you enjoyed tagging along with yunho while he tried to spoil his s/o 💖 if you liked it, smash that like, reblog, drop a comment, or even hit follow if you’re feelin’ it ✨ wanna be on the taglist? just leave a comment and i’ll add you!
The first three parts are already done and posted: Hongjoong, Mingi, and San each one so extra in their own way, trying to convince their s/o to just let them spoil them for once. 🫣💖
Now it’s time to decide who’s next! Which Ateez member do you want to see attempting to pamper their s/o? Vote below so I know who to write about next! 👀✨
San just wants to spoil you… but you’re stubborn. A love story told in tiny surprises, oversized sweaters, receipts, and the relentless insistence of someone who can’t stop trying to make you smile. Will you ever win, or is this just the beginning of forever?
San had always been a little… relentless when it came to you.
Not in a bad way never in a bad way. Just… persistent. Like the tide, always there, always steady, always tugging at the shore of your stubbornness.
The thing was: San loved to give. It was his love language through and through. Gifts, gestures, little surprises, big ones too he thrived on the sparkle in your eyes whenever you received something. But you? You weren’t the kind of person who found comfort in spending money that wasn’t yours. In fact, it made you squirm. Even if he insisted it wasn’t “his” money, but “ours.”
So, the two of you were locked in an endless little battle: San, the determined gifter, versus you, the endlessly stubborn refuser.
It started with something simple.
“Let me order this one for you,” he said one evening, scrolling on his phone while you leaned against him on the couch. “It’s cute. It’ll look so good on you.”
You peeked at his screen. A cardigan. Soft-looking, oversized, with embroidered little daisies along the sleeves. Your heart tugged because, yes, it was pretty. And yes, it did look like something you’d wear. But still…
“Nope,” you said quickly, reaching out to tap the back button before he could add it to his cart.
San’s head whipped toward you, eyes wide in mock offense. “Excuse me? What was that?”
“You’re not buying me that,” you said firmly.
“But it’s perfect!”
“But it’s your money.”
San leaned forward, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “My money is your money. My wallet cries when it’s not being used to spoil you.”
You laughed, burying your face against his shoulder. “Your wallet can deal with it.”
“Oh no, no, no no don’t think this is over,” he warned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
————————————————————————
It wasn’t over. It never was.
A week later, he tried again.
You two were grocery shopping together a rare thing, since San often had schedules, but today was his day off. He was pushing the cart, humming, while you went through the list. At some point, he slowed in the aisle, eyes catching on something.
“Hey,” he called. “Look.”
You turned. He was holding up a ridiculously expensive-looking chocolate box, the kind people gift on anniversaries.
“Let’s get this.”
“For what?!” you exclaimed.
“For you,” he said simply.
You blinked at him. “San. We came here for eggs and milk.”
“Yes. And chocolate.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, we don’t need that.”
He sighed dramatically, putting the box back with an exaggerated slump of his shoulders. “One day,” he murmured under his breath. “One day you’ll let me spoil you properly.”
You rolled your eyes, but the truth was you were smiling. He always made it impossible not to.
————————————————————————
His strategies became more elaborate as time went on.
Sometimes he’d leave little things in your room a pair of socks with silly designs, a plushie, even skincare he “accidentally bought too much of.” He’d wave his hand casually whenever you confronted him.
“Oh, I had extra,” he’d claim.
“San, no one buys two of the same moisturizer by accident.”
“I do,” he’d grin, dimples out, eyes shining with pure innocence.
————————————————————————
Other times, he’d try to disguise it as “couple stuff.”
“Babe, I booked us a spa day!”
“What?”
“It’s not spoiling, it’s bonding!”
“San.”
“Couples do this! It’s normal!”
“San.”
“…Okay, maybe it’s a little spoiling,” he admitted, pouting. “But I want to.”
————————————————————————
One evening, you two sat on the dorm balcony while the other members were out. The city lights glimmered in the distance, and San had his arm draped around you, warm and steady. He was scrolling on his phone again dangerous territory, you realized.
“Look at this necklace,” he said suddenly, turning the screen toward you. It was delicate, silver, with a tiny charm shaped like a star. “Doesn’t it remind you of that night we went stargazing?”
Your heart fluttered. It did. But you shook your head. “San…”
“What?!” He looked genuinely distraught. “It’s not even that expensive this time!”
You gave him a look.
“Okay, fine, maybe it’s a little expensive,” he muttered. “But it’s pretty. And you’d look-…” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if he couldn’t even finish the sentence. “You’d look too beautiful in it. My heart can’t handle that.”
You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you. “San, you’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously in love with you, yeah.”
————————————————————————
Eventually, he tried the guilt-trip route.
“Do you know how it feels,” he said one morning, still half-asleep in bed, his voice muffled against your hair, “to have all this love inside you and no way to spend it?”
You blinked, caught between amusement and fondness. “San…”
“I just want to spoil you,” he whined, tightening his arms around you. “Please? Just let me buy you one thing. Just one.”
You turned in his arms to face him. His hair was messy, sticking up at odd angles, his eyes puffy with sleep, and yet he still managed to look unfairly adorable.
“You already spoil me,” you whispered.
He frowned. “When?!”
You reached up, brushing his hair out of his face. “Every time you make me laugh. Every time you hold me like this. Every time you listen when I’m upset. That’s spoiling, San. That’s everything I need.”
For once, he didn’t have a comeback. His eyes softened, his pout slowly melting into the kind of smile that made your chest ache.
“Okay,” he said finally, kissing your forehead. “But one day… I’ll sneak in a necklace. Or a cardigan. Or both.”
You laughed. “We’ll see.”
“You’ll see,” he promised, eyes glinting with determination.
Because if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that Choi San never gave up easily especially not when it came to loving you in his own, relentless, giving way.
————————————————————————
It started one morning when he knew you had a long day ahead. San insisted on making breakfast and, of course, somehow turned it into a “surprise splurge.”
“Wait,” you said, blinking at the tiny takeaway coffee cup in your hands. “San… you got me a latte? I don’t want- ”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want it!” he said, grinning, bouncing slightly on his toes. “I ordered the fancy one the one with the extra caramel drizzle and the cute little heart on top. And the barista said it was ‘perfect for a very special someone.’”
You raised an eyebrow. “San…”
“I already paid,” he added dramatically. “It’s mine. I insist. Take it. Drink it. Smile. Be spoiled!”
You sighed, trying not to laugh as he handed it over with both hands, eyes shining with mischief. “Fine… but only because you’re adorable when you do this.”
He winked. “Adorable and generous. I’m unstoppable.”
————————————————————————
One weekend, he “needed” to go shopping. You thought it was for groceries oh, no. He had something else in mind.
“Babe, look at this jacket!” he said suddenly, holding up a dark green, perfectly oversized coat. “You’d look amazing in this. You’d be… unstoppable in this coat.”
You shook your head. “San… that’s expensive. I can’t-”
“Can’t what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Let me spoil you. It’s what I do. You look cold. You need warmth. It’s science. And love.”
You groaned, but before you could protest, he was at the counter, already paying.
“What?! San! You didn’t even ask me!”
“I did ask,” he said smugly, sliding the receipt into your hand. “I asked my wallet, and it said yes. And now, you have to accept it.”
You laughed, shaking your head, but he gave you that victorious smile that always melted a little part of your stubbornness.
————————————————————————
San was relentless. Even at night, he found ways to “spoil” you.
It was 11 PM, and you were scrolling on your phone in bed when there was a knock on the door.
“San?” you mumbled. “It’s late…”
He appeared in the doorway, triumphant, holding two large bags of snacks. “I got chips. I got chocolate. I got a smoothie. I even got that weird green tea you like but won’t buy yourself.”
“You did not-”
“Oh, but I did,” he interrupted, grinning. “It’s impossible for me not to. Plus, I read online that eating your favorite snacks increases happiness by 92.3%. Science. So technically, I’m helping you.”
You couldn’t stop laughing as he plopped down next to you, digging through the bags. “San, you’re ridiculous.”
“I’m generous,” he said proudly. “Different things.”
————————————————————————
One evening, you were walking with him, and he somehow managed to “accidentally” drop a bag at your feet.
“What’s this?” you asked, suspicious.
“Uh…” he said, hands raised innocently. “Nothing! Totally not a surprise for you!”
You peeked inside. A plushie, a notebook with your favorite character, a tiny scarf you had to stop yourself from laughing at how obvious it was.
“San…”
He grinned sheepishly. “It fell… off the shelf. Totally a coincidence. But, uh… it’s yours now. You can keep it. Or… give it back. Your choice.”
You shook your head. “I can’t believe you.”
“I know. But I’m persistent.”
“You are relentless,” you said, hugging the little gifts.
“Exactly!” he said. “Persistence is my superpower. Love is my fuel.”
————————————————————————
San had learned that if he couldn’t convince you in person, he could try online.
One day, he sat beside you while you were on your laptop, “helping” you research something. Half an hour later, he nudged you.
“Hey, check your email,” he said innocently.
You did and nearly dropped your laptop. A package was on the way… for you. From him.
“San! I didn’t-”
“I know, I know, but it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, already wrapping his arms around you. “You don’t even know what’s inside yet. The anticipation is half the fun.”
“San…”
“Don’t ‘San’ me! Just… accept the love.”
————————————————————————
One Saturday, he pulled out the big guns. He declared it “San Spoiling Day.”
“I’ve planned everything,” he said with a flourish. “Breakfast in bed. Movie marathon. Homemade snacks. Little gifts. And maybe… a surprise at the end.”
You laughed. “San…”
“No, no, no this is serious! You need to relax. You deserve this.”
By the end of the day, you were full, happy, slightly overwhelmed, and holding a little pile of gifts he had sneakily placed around the room. He flopped next to you on the couch, arm draped over your shoulders.
“You know,” he said softly, looking down at you, “I just want you to feel loved. That’s all. Money or gifts… it’s just my way of saying it.”
You leaned against him, heart swelling. “San… you already do.”
He smiled, dimples out, cheek pressed against your hair. “Good. But don’t think this is the last of it. You’ll need a day off every week just for me spoiling you.”
You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “San… you’re impossible.”
“I know,” he said, smirking. “But irresistibly so.“
————————————————————————
Authors note: Thanks so much for all the love on this series, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this part 💕 Likes, comments, reblogs, and follows mean the world. The taglist is still open, so if you want to be tagged in the next part, just let me know! And if you have a request, don’t be shy just ask <3
I’ve already finished writing Hongjoong’s and Mingi’s parts (and they’re now posted for you to read 💳✨), so the next step is to keep this little series going with another member!
Who do you want to see next trying to spoil their s/o Seonghwa with his quiet but persistent “just let me do this for you,” Yunho turning it into playful puppy energy, San being over the top dramatic, Yeosang slyly finding ways to sneak purchases in, Wooyoung being loud and cheeky about it, or Jongho pretending he doesn’t care but secretly slipping his card in anyway? 👀
Comment or vote down below for which member you’d like to see next, and I’ll start working on their chapter!
spoiling or getting spoiled — a love story told in receipts, stubborn refusals, and the endless game of who can out-love the other first.
It started small.
The very first time Mingi casually dropped his black card onto the table in front of you, you thought it was a joke. He had just come back from practice, sweat still shining at the nape of his neck, hair pushed back in that careless way that always made your heart skip. You were curled up on the couch with your laptop, scrolling through a site that had a flash sale banner plastered across the top.
Mingi leaned over your shoulder, lips brushing your hairline as he squinted at the screen.
“Do you want it?” he asked, voice rumbling in his chest.
You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s just a sweater.”
“Yeah,” he said, as if that proved his point. He nudged his card toward you. “Get it.”
“I don’t need it.”
“You want it though.” His grin spread, boyish and mischievous. “I can tell.”
You swatted his hand away and told him no, and that was the first of many, many refusals.
Mingi didn’t stop there.
If anything, he seemed to make it his personal mission in life to spoil you. Grocery store runs? He would snatch the receipt from your hands before you could even reach for your own wallet. Take-out nights? His card was already on file in the app. Shopping together? Dangerous.
You learned quickly that Mingi had the reflexes of a hawk. If you so much as lingered on an item for longer than three seconds, he noticed.
“Babe.” He’d tug on your sleeve. “You like that bag, don’t you?”
“I was just looking.”
“Uh-huh,” he hummed, already pulling out his wallet. “So I’ll buy it.”
“No!” You’d grab his arm, practically hanging off him to stop him. “Mingi, I’m serious- don’t!”
He’d look down at you with that pout the one he knew melted your resistance like ice in the sun. “But I want to.”
And then, the kicker: “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
You groaned every time, torn between laughter and frustration.
One night, curled up together in bed, you finally asked him about it.
“Why do you always try to spoil me?”
He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. He was half-asleep, hair sticking in every direction, arms locked tight around your waist. After a pause, he said quietly:
“Because I can. I didn’t use to be able to. Back then, I couldn’t even afford things for myself. But now… I can. And if I can, then I want to do it for you. Because you’re my person.”
Your throat tightened.
He kissed your temple and whispered, “I don’t care about the money. I care about you.”
Still, you couldn’t shake the instinct to refuse. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was pride but you just didn’t like the idea of relying on someone else.
So every time he tried, you pushed back.
And Mingi? If nothing else, he was persistent.
Paying the café check? He’d wave it high above your head, smirking.
Trying to secretly pay at the store? You’d get home to find the bag you wanted already sitting on your bed with a note: Nice try. Better luck next time. Love you ♡
It became a game, one you were sure would never end.
Until one Saturday morning.
Mingi woke you up with a grin that looked far too dangerous for that early hour.
“Today’s the day,” he announced.
“…The day for what?” you asked groggily.
“The day you can’t say no.”
You stared at him, heart sinking. “Mingi-”
“Nope.” He tugged you out of bed, humming cheerfully. “No refusals today. You’re mine.”
You didn’t understand until the car pulled into the lot of the fanciest shopping mall in town.
“Mingi.”
He kissed your cheek, grin growing. “Remember what I said? No saying no.”
The next few hours were chaos.
He dragged you through boutiques, piling sweaters, jackets, and dresses into your arms. He crouched down to tie sneakers on your feet like it was the most natural thing in the world. He clasped a dainty necklace around your neck, stepping back with awe in his eyes.
Every protest you tried was batted away with ease.
“It’s too much.” → “You’re too much. For my heart.”
“I feel bad spending your money.” → “Then think of it as ours.”
“I don’t need this.” → “Need? No. Want? Yes. And I want to see you happy.”
By the end of the day, you were exhausted, arms full of bags, cheeks sore from smiling.
On a bench outside the mall, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”
You gave him a look. “You’re insane.”
“Insanely in love,” he corrected instantly.
And when he squeezed your hand and said softly, “Don’t tell me no when I just want to love you,” you couldn’t fight him anymore.
But afterwards, something nagged at you.
Because yes, being spoiled was nice. But you wanted him to feel that too.
So one weekend, you hatched a plan: a day where you would spoil him.
It was harder than you thought.
You tried to pay for brunch first, sliding your card to the waiter before he noticed. The look on his face betrayal, pure betrayal almost made you laugh out loud.
“Babe. No.”
“Yes,” you insisted, smug.
“Babe.” His voice cracked into a whine. “That’s my job.”
“Well, today it’s mine.”
His eyes narrowed, like you’d just declared war. “…So that’s how it’s gonna be.”
At the arcade, you bought all the tokens.
“You didn’t.” He gaped.
“I did.”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “How could you betray me like this?”
By the time you reached the bookstore, he was practically sulking until you handed him a stack of books for him.
“Because I love you,” you said softly. “And you deserve it too, you know.”
That shut him up. His pout faltered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “…You really mean that?”
“Of course.”
He hugged the book to his chest like it was treasure. “You’re too good for me.”
Dinner sealed it. You prepaid, ordered, even got dessert. When he realized he couldn’t win, he slumped in his chair with his hands over his face.
“You win,” he groaned. “You actually win.”
You reached across the table, squeezing his hand. “Now you know how I feel when you spoil me. Sometimes, let me take care of you too.”
He peeked at you through his fingers, smile tugging at his lips. “…Okay. But only if we call it even.”
“Deal.”
Later that night, he curled up on the couch with one of the books you’d bought, looking as content as ever.
When you leaned down to kiss his forehead, he murmured, “Next time, though, it’s my turn again.”
You laughed, settling beside him. “We’ll see about that.”
And just like that, the game continued your endless battle of who could love the other more.
＿|￣| ＿|￣| ＿|￣| ＿|￣| ＿|￣| ＿|￣| ＿|￣| ＿|￣|
Authors note: sorry for making y’all wait so long 😭 honestly i kinda lost control of this part while writing and ended up having to cut it down a lot (i might’ve gone a little too wild bc mingi girly things lol). but i really hope you enjoy it anyway!! likes, reblogs & follows mean the world 🖤 love u guys, hope you have the best week ✨
Well… Hongjoong’s spoiling saga is officially done and posted! He’s tried the dramatic sighs, the sneaky gifts, the wallet wars you name it. (And yes… he’s still suffering because his S/O is stubbornly independent 😂) Now it’s time to move on to the next member!
Who do you want to see try and possibly fail at spoiling their S/O next? 👀💖 Vote down below and let me know which ATEEZ member should star in the next chapter of “Ateez Trying (and Maybe Failing) to Spoil Their S/O”!
Hongjoong just wants to spoil his S/O… but they refuse to let him.Will he succeed, or will this turn into a full-blown wallet war?
Here it is the first part of my new series: Ateez Trying (and Maybe Failing) to Spoil Their S/O! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and leave a comment! (And if you really like it, a follow would make my day 💕) There might even be a part two after I finish the other members where Hongjoong finally gets to spoil his S/O as much as he wants 👀
Hongjoong had a problem.
His problem wasn’t that he didn’t have enough money he did. It wasn’t that he didn’t have someone to spoil he did. His problem was that the person he wanted to spoil most in the world simply wouldn’t let him.
From the very beginning of the relationship, Hongjoong had imagined himself as the kind of boyfriend who would go above and beyond for his partner. He wasn’t just talking about flowers on anniversaries or the occasional gift on their birthday no, he wanted to cover them in love and nice things every single day.
Cute clothes? He wanted to buy them all.
Favorite snacks? He wanted to stock an entire pantry.
Little surprises, spontaneous shopping sprees, late-night food deliveries he wanted to do it all.
The only problem? His s/o was stubbornly independent.
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
The First Failed Spoiling Attempt
It all started with a simple coffee date.
Hongjoong had reached for his wallet, already planning to pay before his s/o even thought about it, when suddenly their hand shot out with their own card.
“It’s okay, I’ll pay for mine,” they said with that polite, stubborn smile.
Hongjoong froze. “No, babe, I got it. I invited you, remember?”
They shook their head. “I can pay for myself. You don’t have to.”
He just stood there, blinking, while the barista swiped their card. A dramatic sigh escaped him as he trailed after them with a pout, thinking, What do you mean I don’t have to? I want to.
From that moment on, it became his personal mission: he would spoil them, no matter how many times they refused.
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
The Spoiling Strategies
1. The Direct Approach
Whenever he saw something that would look good on them a hoodie, a piece of jewelry, a cute keychain he would point it out immediately.
“Look at this,” he’d say, holding it up with shining eyes. “It’s perfect for you. Let me buy it.”
“No, Hongjoong. I don’t need it.”
Cue his dramatic sigh and pleading expression. “But it’ll make me happy if you let me. Please?”
If they refused, he’d sulk for at least five minutes, mumbling to himself about how his s/o was cruel for denying him the joy of giving them things.
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
2. The Wallet War
Hongjoong quickly realized he was dating a fighter.
Meals out turned into silent battles of speed and strategy. He would reach for his wallet before the check even hit the table, but somehow, they always managed to slide their card to the server first.
“You’re so cute when you try to pay,” he teased one night, leaning his chin in his hand as they glared at him. “But my card is prettier. It deserves attention too.”
When he did manage to win, he’d beam like he just achieved a lifelong goal, holding the receipt up in triumph.
“You can’t stop me,” he said smugly. “I’m inevitable.”
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
3. The Sneaky Spoiling
When direct attempts failed, Hongjoong became sneaky.
Packages began arriving at their door. Plushies. Hoodies. Books they had glanced at once. Their favorite snacks.
Whenever they confronted him about it, he’d shrug innocently. “Weird. Must be a very thoughtful turtle fairy.”
They always rolled their eyes, but the smile that tugged at their lips made it worth it.
He also sent food deliveries to their place whenever he couldn’t be there. Sometimes it was a fancy meal, sometimes it was just ramen and fried chicken, but it always came with a little note:
Eat well, love. I refuse to let you starve while I’m not there. – HJ ♡
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
4. Emotional Blackmail
If he still couldn’t win, Hongjoong had no shame in using drama to his advantage.
He would sigh loudly, drape himself across the couch, and press a hand to his chest. “Do you want me to suffer, babe? Every time you say no, a piece of my soul crumbles. Soon, I’ll just be dust on the floor, and it’ll be your fault for not letting me buy you that jacket.”
His s/o would usually laugh and throw a pillow at him, which he caught with a grin. He always hoped that one day, the dramatics would earn him a yes.
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
5. The Card Slip
Perhaps his boldest move was the card slip.
Sometimes, he would secretly slide his black card into their bag or coat pocket and text them later:
“Oops, seems like you stole my card. Better spend something or it’ll feel sad.”
It always came back untouched. But he swore, one day, they’d give in.
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
The Real Reason Behind It All
Hongjoong knew his s/o didn’t need him to buy them things. He loved that about them how independent and strong they were. But to him, spoiling them wasn’t just about money.
It was his love language.
Every hoodie, every plushie, every meal delivery was his way of saying, I adore you. You deserve the world, and I want to give it to you.
So he kept trying. He kept swiping his card faster, sneaking gifts into their life, and plotting his next spoiling strategy. Because one day, he was sure, they would let him win.
。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・゜・。。・゜・.・
✨ That’s all for now Hongjoong will be back, still trying to love his S/O out loud in Part 2.If this made you smile, please like, reblog, and leave a comment! (It makes my heart as happy as Hongjoong when he finally pays for dinner 💕)
I want to write something about each ATEEZ member trying to spoil their s/o and are constantly encouraging them to use their card and spend their money but the s/o keeps refusing. I can’t decide which member to start with, so please vote down below for the ATEEZ member you want to see first!
The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting golden streaks across the room. The soft hum of an amplifier buzzed in the background, and Han Jisung sat cross-legged on the floor, his acoustic guitar resting comfortably on his lap. His eyes, bright with excitement, flickered up to meet yours as he patted the spot beside him.
“Come here,” he said, grinning. “Time for your first guitar lesson.”
You hesitated for a moment, then settled down beside him, mirroring his posture. The scent of his cologne fresh with a hint of warmth lingered in the air, and you couldn’t help but smile. The guitar had always fascinated you, but the idea of learning seemed daunting. Still, with Jisung as your teacher, you had no doubt that this would be anything but boring.
He placed the guitar in your hands, adjusting the strap over your shoulder. His fingers brushed yours as he positioned them on the frets, his touch gentle yet precise. “Okay, so first things first this is how you hold it. Keep your wrist loose, and don’t press too hard, or you’ll tire out too quickly.”
You tried to mimic his posture, but the instrument felt foreign in your grip. Your fingers fumbled against the strings, the tips pressing awkwardly against the metal. Jisung chuckled at your struggle, his laughter light and full of affection.
“Hey, you’re doing fine,” he reassured you, covering your hand with his to adjust your fingers. His warmth seeped into your skin, and the closeness sent a shiver down your spine. “Here, let me guide you.”
With his hand over yours, he helped you strum your first chord. The sound was rough, the notes buzzing slightly, but Jisung beamed as if you had just performed a masterpiece.
“See? You’re already playing music!” he said, eyes sparkling with encouragement.
You scoffed. “That was awful.”
“Hey, hey, no negativity allowed in this lesson! Besides, everyone starts somewhere.” He nudged you playfully before shifting to sit behind you, his arms reaching around to place his fingers over yours again. “Let’s try another chord. Relax your shoulders.”
His voice was soft, patient. His breath tickled the side of your neck as he whispered instructions, his closeness making it harder to focus on the instrument in your lap. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, steady and calming, and you leaned into his warmth without thinking.
Jisung chuckled. “You good?”
You nodded, biting your lip to fight back a shy smile. “Yeah. Just… comfy.”
He grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before guiding your fingers to the next chord. “Good. Music should be comfy. It’s about feeling, not just technique.”
Minutes turned into an hour as he patiently walked you through the basics, filling the space between lessons with silly jokes and stolen glances. Whenever you got frustrated, he was quick to lift your spirits, whether with a goofy expression, an exaggerated gasp at your ‘improvement,’ or simply intertwining your fingers with his for a moment of reassurance.
Eventually, you managed to strum a clear progression of chords, and Jisung whooped in excitement, throwing his arms around you in celebration. “See?! I told you you’d get it!”
You laughed, feeling a swell of pride. “Guess I had a good teacher.”
“Damn right, you did,” he said smugly before grabbing his own guitar. “Alright, time for a reward. I’ll play, and you just strum along, okay?”
He started playing a familiar melody, one of his own songs, and as you hesitantly followed along, he began to sing softly, his voice blending with the sound of your shared music. It wasn’t perfect your fingers still stumbled, and some notes rang out a little off but Jisung didn’t care. He looked at you like you were the most important part of the song, like the music wouldn’t be complete without you.
