I was wondering how Baek Jeong would celebrate his girlfriend’s birthday. Could you write a headcanon about it? I’m really curious. Thank you so much!
Baek Jeong || Birthday head-cannon!
────୨ৎ Pairing; Im Baek Jeong x fem!Reader.
Warnings; non apart from minor smut/mentions of smut towards the end.
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────୨ৎ Author’s note; honestly I did say no headcannons as I’ve never written them before, I don’t really read them much either so I have no idea what I’m doing. But I thought about it and decided to give it a try so, be nice LMAO. I have no idea if what I’ve wrote is actually what headcannons are.
Please check previous trigger warnings ᥫ᭡
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𝜗𝜚 EVERYDAY IS THE SAME FOR BAEK JEONG. Birthdays don't mean much to him either, no parties, no candles, no drinks. He doesn't even celebrate his own, it's just another date on the calendar.
But that doesn't mean he has forgotten yours.
When you wake, his side is already empty. The sheets still warm beneath your fingertips, the only sign he'd been there at all. The apartment is quiet, unchanged and ordinary.
Bar the potted orchid, your favourite flower, on the chest of drawers. With a simple "백정" note tucked underneath.
𝜗𝜚 Security is noticeably tighter that day. Allen's phone tapping every message you receive and every call you take, and every location you visit. Baek had given one simple instruction, don't go anywhere without him.
You never argue that, but he needed to be sure.
𝜗𝜚 So most of your day is spent watching his fights. Between rounds, whenever he catches sight of the camera pointed his way, the corner of his mouth lifts into the faintest smile before he gives a quick, almost imperceptible wink.
No one else would think anything of it. But you know exactly what it means. I'll win this one for you.
Not that you ever doubted the outcome. Baek was always going to win. The wink was never a promise, it was simply his way of letting you know that, even in the middle of a fight he was thinking of you.
𝜗𝜚 No words passed between you when Baek Jeong finally comes home. You don't expect any. The apartment stays wrapped in silence, broken only by the soft rustle of a takeout bag as he sets it on the table. Your favourite, malatang.
No matter how exhausted he is, he never forgets to bring you food. Even if he barely has the appetite himself, he'll sit across from you with a pair of chopsticks in hand, eating only because he knows you won't eat alone, especially on your birthday.
A quiet ritual of his love.
Dinner always comes second on your day though.
𝜗𝜚 Baek steps in front of you, blocking the television without a word. Your gaze drifts upwards, slowly, from his broad shoulders to the tension in his jaw, until it settles on his eyes. They look sharp, but beneath the hard stare is an unmistakable weight of exhaustion.
The kind he never talks about.
Then he lifts his hand, doesn't ask, just waits. The moment your fingers slip into his larger ones, his grip closes gently around your skin. He gives a small tilt of his head towards the bathroom, a silent gesture you've learned to understand long ago.
The shower isn't just about washing the day away. It's his way of making sure you're warm, cared for and grounded. A place neither of you carry the world outside those walls.
So you follow him, hand in hand because his love has never lived in words.
𝜗𝜚 Your evening is spent modelling the different set of lingerie he picked out for you. He reclines against the headboard, one arm slung lazily behind his head, his gaze following your every movement with quiet intensity as you show off each piece.
A slow, approving smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, his expression saying more than his words ever could.
Oh and you spend it gasping for air and screaming his name as he buries himself deeper into you with every passing second. Since it's your birthday he lets you decide how the night unfolds, a rare occasion on his part.
Naturally, you choose the moments where he's the one looking up to you for a change, determined to enjoy the fleeting illusion of having the upper hand.
But It doesn't last long.
No matter the circumstances, Baek has a way of reclaiming control with effortless confidence. Even when he indulges in your wishes.
It's clear who's truely in charge, his quiet dominance never wavers.
He has you so weak at the knees, so much so you're only able to finish because of the tight bruising grip he has on your hips, bouncing you up and down, overstimulating you. He doesn't care if you've finished and need to stop. If he's not finished, neither of you are.
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