synopsis moments in the life of jay and yn as a married couple.
paring chaebol husband/dad! jay x fem! reader
genre engaged! au, married! au, parents! au, fluff, angst, established relationship! au
warnings nothing is proof read (unfortunately), this is all fiction!!! nothing is to be taken seriously please, suggestive/18+ content at times (will mention it in the chapters), yn is not korean, they are very much in love with each other, lots of drama ngl, more to be added...
nessie 🗯️ surpriseeee (not really) but here's the return of husband diaries.. with jay!!!! a lot of y'all really loved this series with sunghoon so it made sense to bring it back and with jay UGH the dream ideal husband <3 just a little heads up that he's gonna make you feel insanely single but wtv he's the dream :3 ANYWAY, i hope y'all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this. love all of y'all cuties kissies and love <3
01. dinner with the parks 02. happy days around the mansion 03. wedding errands 04. wine drunk 05. kiss me now? 06. mishaps 07. internal conflicts 08. heavy head 09. all of you 10. stupid stick 11. wedding chaos 12. wedding bells 13. reception 14. speeches and polaroids 15. like this for the rest of our lives, please 16. TO … uh… where are we going jay? 17. yellow bikini 18. day one in amsterdam 19. changing rooms 20. sleepy lips 21. nude beach 22. home seattle home 23. back to work 24. fender bender 25. the real boss 26. can’t talk like that 27. tailing 28. workaholics 29. kick, please? 30. water broke 31. aiden evan park 32. mama’s boy 33. never again 34. not going anywhere 35. from you 36. moonlit boys 37. thumb war 38. boxy grin x2 39. crawl monster 40. separation anxiety 41. bumpy head 42. dada’s day out 43. poor baby 44. granola mash 45. lash out 46. let me take care of you 47. don’t regret me
AN EYELINER DOWN THE LINES OF YOUR BODY | Lee Chanyoung
synopsis — riize’s Anton x reader (non-idol au)
genre — romance, suggestive, “friendship” (you can tell they aren’t just friends…) wc. 4k
warnings — yes, this is pretty suggestive. NO, it isn’t smut! Includes kissing (lowk making out actually), anton’s shirtless, and yea we are wasting eyeliner for this… honestly if ur like…idk under 13 i wouldn’t recommend u read it…
notes — lost my mind a bit when looking at anton edits in tiktok and birthed this baby…tell me how u like it! haven’t written for this man in SO long.
MORE WORKS: navigation | riize!masterlist
YOU’RE ALREADY LAUGHING when the door opens, breath fogged just enough from the walk to make the first step inside feel warmer than it should.
His apartment smells like laundry and cardamom tea—soft domestic notes that always make your stomach do the stupid, loyal flip it’s been doing since the first time you came over.
Anton leans his shoulder to the frame and watches you kick off your shoes, a tiny curl at his mouth like the end of a music phrase he hasn’t decided to resolve.
“You brought it?” he asks.
You lift the tiny black tube like a trophy. “One—perfectly legal—eyeliner. Waterproof. Hypoallergenic. Not responsible for life decisions.”
Anton snorts. “We’re doing a fake tattoo, not a binding contract.”
“Yeah, but still. Waterproof. Foolproof. Regret-proof.”
“Is it artist-proof?”
“No such thing,” you say.
He laughs—quiet, but real—and gestures for you to come inside the living room. You do, trying not to notice the lazy confidence in his movements, or the fact that your heartbeat’s already pretending to be percussion.
“Where do you want me?” he asks.
You glance up from the coffee table, where you’re unboxing the eyeliner. “For the tattoo or… in general?”
He raises a brow. “For the tattoo.”
“Shame,” you say before you can stop yourself. He blinks—once, slow—and you’re the first to look away.
“You say that now.”
He steps back so you can pass, and you feel it again—the hush that likes to sit in the space right by your ribs when he’s close.
You’re just friends.
You have been for so long that the word has grown complicated edges. But it still fits the mouth, most days.
Friends who trade playlists and send each other pictures of ugly cafés that serve perfect coffee. Friends who know exactly when to push and when to shut up. Friends who, apparently, draw temporary tattoos on each other’s stomachs because some friend made an offhand comment about Anton “maybe trying an ink moment one day,” and your brain took a running jump at the idea.
The living room is half studio. Coiled cables asleep under the desk. A cello leaning in the corner like a tall, patient friend. He has that small lamp on—the one that throws a pool of amber light over the rug, as if you’re supposed to confess something in it. You make yourself busy instead, setting your bag on the couch, rolling up your sleeves, twisting the eyeliner open to check the fineness of the felt tip.
“You’re really trusting me with this?” you tease. “A needle would be more permanent, but probably less wiggly.”
“I trust you,” he says, simple as a chord played clean. No rust, no drama. It lands somewhere low and steady.
You try not to show what the word does to your pulse. “Okay then. Design brief time.”
He wanders to the speaker, puts on something you both love—piano that threads through a lo-fi drum like a heartbeat that won’t call itself that. “Nothing too much,” he says. “Just…lines. Under the ribs. Maybe something that follows the muscle. If we hate it, we wipe and start over.”
“If we hate it, you pretend it’s art,” you correct, and he laughs, soft.
It’s absurd how many years you’ve known the choreography of his laugh. The way it starts quiet and widens, like the moment sound engineers push the fader up and up until the track sits perfectly in the mix.
You watched that happen slowly with him: the shy boy who learned to speak more where the music didn’t, the young man who asks you what you think and actually waits.
He pulls his hoodie over his head and tosses it onto the arm of the couch, unhurried, absolutely sure you will not combust. You won’t. You won’t. You will set the eyeliner down gently on the coffee table instead of clutching it like salvation.
Beneath the white tee there is a line where cloth ends and skin begins, and then his hands hook the hem, and the shirt lifts. When he lifts off his shirt, you think maybe this was a terrible idea. His shirt rides up just enough to show the edges of toned skin, and you swear the air gets heavier.
“I thought you said we’d draw, not stare,” he says lightly.
“I’m visualizing the composition,” you mutter, rolling up your sleeves. “Don’t distract the artist.”
“I wouldn't dream of it.”
He’s teasing, but there’s warmth under the words, a familiarity that makes your stomach do something traitorous. You kneel on the rug, holding the eyeliner like it’s a scalpel. He leans back a little—enough for the lamplight to fall over his stomach, the faint rise and fall of breath.
“Hey,” he says, as if you’re already halfway to the door. “You okay?”
“Yup,” you say, with the voice of someone who absolutely does not notice the soft map of his abdomen, the lines like brackets around breath. “Just trying to remember where I put—”
“The eyeliner is in your hand,” he says, and you look down to find it there, snug against your fingers like something that knows more than you do.
“Right.” You clear your throat and turn toward him. “Okay. Lay down. I need a flat canvas.”
He settles on the edge of the couch, spine a careful line, knees a little open. He’s taller without the hoodie, somehow. He has always been all long lines and quiet strength, like his instrument. You kneel on the rug, and now the space between your bodies is just air—warm, shared, thin.
The lamp hums. The music drips time.
You try not to let your brain wire elsewhere.
The first stroke is tentative, a thin line tracing the edge of his ribs. The felt tip glides easily, the skin warm under your touch. His abs tense slightly—involuntary—and you can’t tell if it’s from nerves or something else.
“Ticklish?” you ask, half-smile, half-dare.
“A little,” he admits. “You’re… close.”
You try to make it sound like you don’t notice. “That’s kind of the point.”
He huffs a laugh, eyes flicking toward you—then staying there. It’s too quiet after that. Just the sound of your breath and the soft drag of eyeliner. You move to draw another line, your knuckles brushing him by accident. His breath catches.
You don’t apologize.
“Do you know,” he says after a moment, voice lower, “you do this thing every time?”
“Do what?”
“Pretend you’re fine.”
You blink, keep your gaze fixed on the line you’re drawing. “I am fine.”
He hums, unconvinced. “Right. That’s why your hand’s shaking.”
You scoff, though your pulse jumps. “Maybe you’re just a bad canvas.”
“Maybe you’re just nervous,” he murmurs, leaning slightly closer.
You look up, ready with something sharp, but he’s already watching you—eyes dark, expression unreadable. The room feels too small.
You grin, because that’s what you do when you’re cornered. “If I was nervous,” you say, “it’s only because I don’t want to ruin your abs. They deserve better art direction.”
He laughs, quiet and breathy, but doesn’t look away. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” you say, “you keep inviting me over.”
The smile lingers on his face, but something shifts in the air—the playful tone stretches thin, and underneath it hums something older.
You change the topic.
“So,” you say, because words are a kind of lid and you need one. “We’re tracing the obliques. Maybe a curve like this…” Your hand hovers at his hip, not touching yet. “…and then a thin line running up here. Think calligraphy. Minimal. Pretend I’m ink and you’re paper.”
“Poetic,” he murmurs, and when you dare to glance up, he’s wearing that look—the one that means he’s watching you think. He does it like you’re a good song. You feel seen and flattered and terrified.
“I’ll start light,” you tell him. “If it tickles, don’t laugh. You’ll ruin my masterpiece.”
“Would never,” he says.
You use the back of your knuckles first, easing your hand against the warmth of him, letting your skin tell your brain this is real. He inhales, slow—heavy, and the muscles shift under your touch like fish under clear water.
You have painted hundreds of lines in your life.
None of them were on him.
Careful.
You put felt to skin and draw the first small stroke, a testing dash along the slope of his hip. The eyeliner leaves a narrow ribbon, dark and obedient. You’re close enough to see goosebumps pebble and fade. His hand, relaxed on his knee, tightens just a fraction. Not a flinch. More like a hello.
“Cold?” you ask.
“Fine,” he says. His voice comes out lower than it was a second ago.
Years, you think. Years of this. Years of cups warming your hands on his couch while he mixes a bass line, years of walking side by side and never bumping shoulders because it would break the spell, years of hungry jokes that you both pretend are just jokes.
Well, who’s to blame, honestly?
You add a second stroke, curving the line to hug the edge of his abdomen. The felt tip glides. You are absurdly, disastrously careful. You want the tattoo to look effortless; you want your hands not to shake; you want not to want this so hard you can taste it. You breathe and the scented lamp breathes with you. It smells like someone’s kitchen at night.
The second stroke finishes.
“Do another one here,” he says, voice lower, bringing your hand in his and guiding it just above his waist.
You ignore how warm his hand engulfs yours.
You move the eyeliner there, trying not to tremble. “Bossy.”
“You like that,” he says, almost absentmindedly.
Your hand hesitates for half a second—enough for him to notice. His eyes lift to yours, and the faint curve of his lips is gone now.
“Anton,” you start, but he only tilts his head.
“What?”
“This is—”
“Nothing?” he finishes for you, soft but edged.
You don’t answer. You draw instead—the thin black line curving just above his waist, the shape of something you can’t name. Your hand lingers too long, your thumb brushing over the line to “smooth” it. His breath hitches again, and that’s when you realize how close you’ve gotten—the space between you measured in heartbeats now.
His voice drops. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Playing.”
You set the eyeliner down carefully, because suddenly your hands don’t feel steady at all. “You’re imagining things.”
“I’m not.”
You force a smile, leaning back. “You’re the one who asked me to draw on you. Don’t make it weird.”
“It’s already weird,” he says, and there’s no teasing left in it—just quiet honesty.
You swallow. “Then maybe we stop before it gets worse.”
A pause. Silence.
You clear your throat. “Look down?”
He looks, and for a second your eyes meet across the distance of his torso, as if your gaze could touch him too. You don’t want to think about what the gaze intended—what it thought of behind that head.
You blink first. You always blink first. It has kept you safe and starved in equal measure.
“Okay,” you say, swallowing. “Now the thin accent line—here.” You hover the tip just under the nearest rib, trace a path you can already see. It’s a dangerous place to write. If you misjudge the curve, the whole design will feel off. The thought makes your hands quieter, steadier.
“Breathe,” he says, breathlessly. You’re not sure who he’s telling. You exhale anyway. The line appears where you want it, a simple arc, intimate in its simplicity. You could stop now and it would already look like something meant.
“You’re really good at this,” he adds, and you almost ruin the next stroke.
“I draw things all the time. You know this.” You hear your own voice, bright with a kind of practiced carelessness you could probably sell for money.
“Not like this,” he says, softer. “Not…on me.”
The song changes. The piano keeps talking.
“You’re going to smudge it if you keep flattering me,” you warn, because banter is a fence and fences keep the deer out. You nudge his knee with the back of your hand, a friendly press.
He takes it as you meant it; you wish he wouldn’t, and also that he would.
He goes quiet then—comfortably quiet, the way he gets when he’s focusing. You draw three more lines: one that echoes the curve you made, one that cuts across at a deliberate angle, one that disappears into the hollow near his side like a secret. The design starts to grow bones. It looks like motion. It looks like restraint. It looks—goodness help you—like longing you can see.
Anton shifts just enough to bring him closer, leaning back on his hands to get a better view. The shift pulls his body long, the clean stretch of stomach a map your fingers want to memorize. The move also brings his face down toward yours, closing the altitude until you could count each of his lashes if you were rude enough to stare.
You are not rude; you are a coward. You look at the tattoo instead, and because you’re a professional at pretending, your voice comes out light. “We’re halfway. You doing okay? Need a break?”
“I’m good.” He’s watching you again. “You’re the one concentrating like you’re defusing a bomb.”
“I am.” You add a tiny dot at the end of one line, a punctuation. “There are very few absolutes in this world, but ruining your abs on a Tuesday would be one of them.”
He laughs, and the sound tips your line a hair; you catch it, correct it, make the tilt look purposeful. It’s a small miracle. He watches you pull off the save like he expected it, like he knows how your brain thinks around mistakes. He has known you so long that of course he does.
“Do you want this to mean something?” you ask, and it’s a question about the tattoo, and also not. “Or just pretty lines?”
His gaze flickers to your mouth and back—not in a way that presumes, just a low, honest circuit that makes your breath stumble. “Everything means something,” he says, and then, gentler: “Even if we don’t say it.”
You’re the one to look away again. You are always the one to step back onto the safe part of the path. “Okay,” you murmur, businesslike. “Then it means ‘good angles and symmetry.’”
You work in silence for a while—not empty silence, but the charged kind that asks for attention without making demands. Every time the felt touches him, his stomach tightens slightly, then eases. Every time your hand braces at his side, heat collects under your palm like a secret that doesn’t want to be secret anymore. You place another line and see him swallow. You pretend not to.
A memory moves through you—the third winter of your friendship, when he let you put your freezing hands under his sleeves while you both waited for the night bus. He didn’t joke. He just held still. That’s what he does: he holds still for you in a world that doesn’t.
If you were braver, you would say something now. If you were reckless, you would press your mouth to the clean skin by the sharp new line you’ve drawn and make your mark in two inks at once. Instead you wear the same old disguise: You paint and you talk about nothing.
“Do you think,” you ask, “you’d ever get a real one? For real?”
“Maybe,” he says. “If I found the thing I wanted to keep.”
Your hand stutters and recovers. “Hm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” You’re almost done. That makes something in you panic. The scene will end; the spell will break. You will put the cap back on the eyeliner and say something chirpy, and he will pull his shirt down and you will go back to being people who only sometimes stand so close the room feels the size of a breath.
You draw the last small curve, a grace note that pulls the whole design together. It is undeniably beautiful. It is also unbearable.
“Okay,” you say, too fast. “That’s it. Don’t move for, like, thirty seconds. I’ll—uh—grab tissues? In case I need to clean an edge.”
You rock back on your heels, already retreating, reaching for the coffee table, for your bag, for anything that looks like distance. Your heart’s doing that runaway thing—it doesn’t trust you either.
“Hey,” he says, and it’s soft, warning and wonder together. You keep going anyway. You toss the eyeliner in your bag, rummage like the right napkin will make this a different story.
“Looks good,” you say—brisk, bright, safe. “I’ll take a picture, send it to you, you can decide if you want me to redo any—”
“Quit.” The single word is gentle, but it hits like a hand catching the back of your sweater just before you step off a curb you didn’t see. “Stop playing.”
You blink. “What?”
“Quit pretending this doesn’t mean anything,” he says, voice low, steady. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Anton—”
He leans forward, the motion slow, deliberate, until you can feel his breath near your cheek. “You keep pulling away like I’m going to let you,” he murmurs. “Like I don’t notice.”
Your throat feels tight. “If I don’t?”
His smile is small, almost sad. “Then maybe I do.”
You freeze. Your fingers close uselessly around nothing. You tell yourself you don’t know what he means.
You do.
He leans forward, and the couch sighs with him. Your name in his mouth is quieter than the lamp hum, but you hear it fine. One of his hands comes down to the rug, steadying. The other finds yours where it’s busy being frantic inside your bag. He doesn’t pull. He just covers your hand with his own—warm over warm—and you realize how long you’ve been cold.
“Anton,” you start, and the word is a little frayed. You pull back out of habit; his fingers follow, not trapping, just present. You are good at this—the art of slipping sideways, the quick joke, the neat turn into less. It has saved you a hundred times. It has cost you, too.
“Look at me,” he says.
You do. You always do, in the end.
He isn’t smug or triumphant or anything you could fight against. He’s steady. His eyes are the same quiet as the cello in the corner. He looks down at the design you drew on him, then up again. You know what it says. You wrote it.
“I like our lines,” he says. “All of them. The ones on me and the ones between us. But this—” His thumb lifts, barely there, skimming the back of your hand like the promise of a stroke you could still draw. “This thing you do. The way you make it a game.”
“It’s not a game,” you say, too quickly. Your face is hot. The room shrinks to the radius of your joined hands.
“I know,” he says. “That’s the point.”
You could joke. You could tell him to practice his cryptic producer lines somewhere else. You could find a sentence that sends you back up onto the river path where the air is thin and safe. You feel all the old exits like doors in a hallway you could sprint. None of them feel like air.
He tilts his head, a tiny, helpless smile breaking through like the sun under thick clouds. “You’re a major tease,” he says, but it’s not accusation, not cruel; it sounds almost fond, like he’s naming a mischievous cat that keeps knocking pens off the desk. “And I don’t mind—most days. I like when you’re here, in whatever way. But I—” He exhales. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t know what this is.”
For a moment, neither of you move. The world narrows to lamplight, the faint scent of tea, the warmth of his hand as it finds your wrist. His thumb grazes your pulse—a barely-there touch, but it unravels you anyway.
You breathe his name—not quite a word, not quite a warning—and the sound seems to undo something in both of you.
He exhales slowly, eyes dropping to your lips, then back up, like he’s asking without asking.
You could close the distance. You could make it easy.
But you just whisper, “Anton…” and let the silence hang there—heavy, suspended, the kind that hums right before something gives.
And when his forehead touches yours—barely, just enough to feel it—you don’t move. You let the moment breathe. You let the question stay unanswered.
The eyeliner is still open on the table, black and waiting, but neither of you look at it again.
You breathe heavily now, feeling his breath on yours as you wait on nothing.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” He whispers, his eyes desperately searching yours for a dare to deny once again.
You swallow your breath, your answer.
“Tell me. Use your words.” He pleads, brows furrowed in frustration though his roaming hand already reaches for your hip.
It presses gently on your hip, and only when he used his thumb to circle patterns on them did you break.
“I want this, Anton,” You confess, like a forbidden secret just unfolded—and his adam’s apple bobs from swallowing earnestly, “I want you.”
For a second, the world paused. Like an almost. Almost, the thread snaps. Almost, your emotions burst out of the jar you forced it into.
And then.
And then you bring your gaze up to his, and the clock ticks once more.
He pushes his lips on yours—hungry and starved and wanting more.
You grip his forearm to stabilize yourself, not expecting the impact and letting out a noise of surprise.
Somehow, that encouraged him more.
His other hand held the other side of your hip, and in an instant—as if you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and reverses your positions, holding your hips steady as he pushes you down on the couch.
He deepens the kiss, and you let him, hands latching onto his hair as years and years of pent up frustration releases.
Years of ignoring the obvious tension. Years of toying around thin ice.
You part after a while, short of breath and dazed.
“Do you like it?” you ask, and you’re not asking about lines.
He gives you that look. Midsummer, all warmth, all patience—except that earnest longing he hid underneath is obvious now. “Yeah,” he says, still catching his breath back. “I like it.”
You laugh—a little wrecked around the edges, but it feels good. You reach for the eyeliner again, not to flee this time but to ground yourself in the thing that brought you here. “One last dot,” you announce, “so the composition feels intentional.”
“Everything’s intentional,” he says, and you shake your head because he stole your line and made it better. He watches you place the dot, a tiny star where two arcs nearly meet. He watches like it’s also his story.
“Don’t move,” you murmur, and he doesn’t. You blow gently across the fresh ink and he shudders. The air returns to your lungs like it’s been waiting.
“Photo?” you ask.
“For me,” he says, possessive—“Not for anyone else.”—but it’s not a rule; it’s a wish.
You nod, and you’re gentle with the angle, with the light, with the possessiveness in both your chests that doesn’t demand an explanation tonight. The photo captures shadow and line and the hint of your fingers near the edge of the frame.
You send it to him. His phone hums on the table; he doesn’t check it. He looks at you.
Only you. Only ever you.
And perhaps, under the moonlight, the both of you were always supposed to happen, no matter how far you try to run.
✸ ⠀⠀. bf!bangchan (+platonic!skz & hannah bahng) x fem!reader. ⠀ 𖥦🗨️ ⠀when you've been together for as long as you and chan have been... there's not one day that goes uneventful. ⠀cw. chan is very weird. but it's okay. i like him with wabisabi. yn thinks she's funny, but is not. (yn is me). we love hannah more, as we should lowkey.
⸝⸝ ⟡ filmrku roll: thankyou to the anon who reminded me i did have these just sitting in my phone. i should be studying but i got too bored of ochem so i hopped on here :) i hope u like. also next time if you want a 'this your man' YOU BETTER provide me with images & text ideas cause ts so hard 😭😭😭
taglist: @tbatzu @millannniii @eveeeeeer @s1lverroses @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @wealwayskeepfighting
taglist is open!
SYNOPSIS → it’s summer break and you are bored out of your mind. so like any what other person would do, you download gacha life. not the original or gacha club, but gacha life TWO. you start creating oc’s just for fun, when you realize your brother’s best friend looks JUST like one of your oc’s!? is this purely coincidental or are you going to end up looking like a stalker…
PAIRING → myung jaehyun x 𝒻!reader (ft. bnd, haum of kiiikiii, yujin of ive, soobin of txt, james of cortis, shinyu of tws)
GENRE → fluff, crack, non idol au, brother’s best friend, highschool au but its summer break, strangers2lovers, smau
WARNINGS → reader’s face claim is sui of kiiikiii (im not shipping!), reader and riwoo are siblings, gay jokes, suggestive jokes, kms/kys jokes, profanity, LOTS of tmf and danganronpa references (what do u expect from a gacha kid), mentions of gacha logic, etc
AUTHOR’S NOTE → HELLO EVERYONEEEEEE IM BACK WITH A NEW SMAU! (a short but more consistent one) for those who dont know, gacha reaction vids are my guilty pleasure and i will always go back to them. (fun fact back in 2024 when i edited danganronpa, my rantaro edit that went viral was in a drv3 reaction vid) SO i decided to make an gacha life based smau and i thought it would be really funny! im using gacha life 2 because holy shit its so much better 😭😭😭 anyways im making this before my sungho smau cuz that will take forever and i wanna post more stuff. ANYWAYS I HOPE U ALL ENJOY
(안건호) fluff — hcs⠀ 𓈒 ⠀ ⠀clingy! keonho x reader⠀⠀ ୭ idol au – est. relationship⠀ ᵔ ⠀ ⠀cw language – skinship wc 300
𑄽𑄺 clingy boyfriend! keonho who quite literally needs to be attached to your hip 24/7, he swears a part of him is missing whenever you’re not around.
𑄽𑄺 will not leave your house/will not let you leave his dorm until you give him a goodbye kiss, cause why would you even think about leaving without it?
𑄽𑄺 trust that keonho’s arm will always be draped over your shoulders, or a hand on your waist, or an arm hooked around yours. He might die if he’s not constantly on contact with you idk.
𑄽𑄺 expect texts from him ranging from the most useless information ever to him describing how much he misses you, there’s never a waking moment where you aren’t on his mind.
𑄽𑄺 constant face time calls too!! when touring it’s hard to get used to new time zones, so hearing your voice always soothes him to sleep.
𑄽𑄺 keonho who is clingy but not to the point where he smothers and overwhelms you!
𑄽𑄺 he literally sees god when going on his first tour, being away from you for the first time, and barely being able to talk to you?? He swears he was just put on death row.
𑄽𑄺 of course you make sure to cover his face in kisses until he’s a giggly mess when saying goodbye.
𑄽𑄺 please let him sleepover when you both are free, he cannot get enough of them. He loves cuddling with you, feeling your warmth against his body, and your hair tickling his cheeks.
𑄽𑄺 FACE MASKS WITH HIM AT THE SLEEPOVERS, ohh my god the amount of pictures he will take of you both and especially you. He smiles at those everytime he’s away from you, his members tease the shit out of him.
𑄽𑄺 free backstage pass each time you come for a show, no matter how sweaty he is, he WILL give you a giant bear hug, and ignore your protests.
𑄽𑄺 literally obsessed with kissing you, he cannot get enough of it. You look cute? he’s kissing you on the cheek. You got him a gift? He’s giving you a fat kiss on the lips. He just loves you so much.
𑄽𑄺 wants to post you on his socials SO badly, he has to convince himself everyday not to boast about you and show you off to his fans.
𑄽𑄺 when he’s allowed to get a private acc on any platform, TRUST your face will be littered across his page.
𑄽𑄺 clingy boyfriend! keonho who loves you so much it hurts.
a/n : keonho my goober,… my shayla…. I hope ygs are liking these daily posts
in which your known on the internet for your appetite and high standards and park jongseong known for his high quality cooking ... a perfect match made in the kitchen
pairing: mukbang!reader x youtubechef! park jongseong
style : headcannon
wordcount : 4.5k
includes : enhypen hyung line + huekangz
playlist : echoes by enhypen . royalty by enhypen . i see u by p1harmony . anesthetic by evan pak . higher than heaven by tomorrow x together
connected to ... mr. huggy wuggy and mrs. notes app + might do one for all members
warnings : its literally all about food
author's note : i think im my own worst enemy cause they're so freaking cute + if anyone has any requests for a written scene between these two please feel free to request
INTRODUCING YOU as Y/N L/N; THE INTERNET’S FAVOURITE FOODIE
HOW IT STARTED !
you were starving
and broke
but mainly starving
so you did what most people would do in these times of crisis
beg the owner of your favourite restaurant for a discount on her homemade ramen and takoyaki
obviously she said no
but little did she know, your mom got you a mug that said ‘the most stubborn girl in the world’
so you begged, quite shamelessly too
almost went on your hands and knees just to get a sip of her homemade miso broth that always warmed you up on a bad day
mrs kim, the owner, was clearly not expecting this so she just looked at you as you were pleading
she looked scared to be honest
after looking around and seeing that taehyun and kai were actively filming this and providing their own commentary she sighed and closed her eyes
she looked at you, looked at your friends, and looked at the sky as if to ask god why she had to be the one who owned your favourite restaurant
“if you can bring over 100 customers to this restaurant… ill let you eat here for free”
your eyes widened, you sprang up thanking her profusely until taehyun came behind you and smacked your back, reprimanding you to fully listen to what the owner is saying
mrs.kim was clearly still questioning the words coming out of her mouth but still she continued, “until then you get a discount”
she put her hand out, which you shook without hesitation
and you got yourself your favourite ramen and takoyaki at a very discounted price that day
it was safe to say you were happy and full and thriving
until the next week came, and you were back in the same position…
no money, no cooking skills to feed you, and mrs.kim staring at you as if she was about to call a shaman to curse you
you gulped as you looked at your empty bank account
“what was it that mrs.kim said about getting free food?” you asked taehyun
he just snorted at you, “not like your going to do it,”
you laughed along hollowly, before turning to kai
“do you think i should do it?”
kai just responded with wide eyes and a shaky thumbs up
you nodded and accepted your fate
you marched down to the university’s film department, got a camera and microphone and marched back to mrs. kim’s restaurant
you ignored to bewildered look on her face and set up the camera and placed an order
an order for every fucking dish at the restaurant
by dish twelve, taehyun had hit his protein goals for the week
by dish nineteen, kai felt like his jaw was going to fall off
by dish twenty seven, mrs. kim just sighed and wished she could tell your mom what he daughter was doing
it was safe to say that you grew three new stomachs that day along with kai and taehyun who were forced into eating and rating and talking through every dish mrs.kim had to offer
you worked hard to make sure to show all the dishes and to show just how yummy it is
the camera was being passed amongst you three and you were talking, but mainly munching
the things you were talking about felt irrelevant, but mainly covered little opinions you had and small facts about the food you had learned while daydreaming about it in class
you ignored mrs.kim incredulous look as you finished the last gimbap she made and ended the video with you politely saying good bye and hoping that everyone would come and try mrs.kim mouthwatering, jaw-dropping, yummy food.
you even ignored the look of all other patrons when you immediately dropped the smile, tied up your hair and started importing the footage on to your laptop to start editing immediately
kai and taehyun were left to do pr control as they politely bowed to everyone and smiled at anyone who stared at the huge amount of food consumed by three university students
it didnt matter to you, as this video would be uploaded tonight
it had to be
you would endure your ick of seeing yourself on camera and eating noises and you powered through and released a forty five minute video of you and your friends rating all the food this small restaurant had to offer
honestly, you didn’t even notice how mrs.kim didn’t even hand you the bill as you left a quarter to midnight to upload and film an intro video to your new channel : late night bites
you posted at the three thirty in the morning and immediately went to the gym, the heaviness in your stomach making you feel ill
you honestly didn’t think much of the video, not after the two days it took to recover from eating that much
it wasn’t until the next week, when you dragged kai and taehyun to mrs.kim restaurant again for a late night dinner did you realize what you did
you couldn’t be too upset, considering the long ass line that was trailing around the block
you strolled in the restaurant, ignoring the line and went straight to your favourite auntie
“so” … you started saying to mrs.kim, “about that free food?”
“shut up,” was all that mrs.kim said, before seating you and serving you the best miso ramen and takoyaki you ever had, all for free
HOW IT'S GOING !
turns out … attracting over three hundred new customers to a restaurant from a mukbang gets you a lot of attention
to the point where people had somehow found your private instagram and were somehow sending you messages, requesting you to dine and rate their restaurant
you were going to say no, for your loyalty to mrs.kim and the fact that some of these restaurants were charging prices like the food was made of gold
it wasn’t until you actually clicked on the message and saw that they were offering up the whole ass menu for a very discounted price
you shoved the phone into taehyun’s face before dragging him and kai to said very expensive restaurant
it seemed that every weekend a new restaurant would be asking you to do a taste test of your videos
and it was all fun, but you, taehyun and kai could only take so much
it was evident to a lot of people, but especially mrs.kim who watched as you simply poked at your takoyaki
she sighed, pinching her nose as she walked towards your table
“this cant keep happening,” is all she said as she dropped (more like gently placed in an aggressively loving manner) some egg fried rice in front of you
“you need to be more selective with what you say yes too,” she reprimands you before giving kai and taehyun the same treatment
it was then that the ever-so-busy mrs.kim told her husband to start cooking (despite him only knowing how to try his best) and sat down with you and your friends and taught you not only how to say no to yummy food but also how to manage your life
it was decided, with taehyun being your social media manager and kai being there for emotional support that you would post a mukbang every three weeks
giving you one week to recover
one week to eat
and another to recover
to keep engagement up, as taehyun explained it, you would post small vlog during those three weeks
you simply nodded, not minding these people deciding your life for you
meaning that you and kai nodded along as taehyun and mrs.kim recognized that they shared the same soul and the same need to see your life in order
under the shared guidance of taehyun and your (now) campus mom, mrs. kim - you post videos at new restaurants every three weeks, making sure to include your ramblings and reactions to give an honest rating of affordability and taste
after all, no one like a tone deaf person on the internet telling them to eat a cucumber salad worth three hours of minimum wage
slowly your popularity grew
through your buldak mukbangs to showing you crash out over your business major, people started loving you
it also didn’t help that taehyun would post you at the gym, making the girls in your comments ask about him and his ab routine
(you ignored those comments, after all this channel was about you)
but something about you eating and talking to camera like you were besties with the people watching made it so that you were proclaimed the internet’s favourite foodie
to the point where people would come up to on campus and ask for recommendations on what to eat
to which kai, who was politely fed up for waiting for you, suggested you make a blog
you looked at him like he was a genius
honestly, it didn’t matter what people thought about you and your food opinions
as long as you got to eat
INTRODUCING PARK JONGSEONG as JAY; THE INTERNET’S FAVOURITE CHEF
HOW IT STARTED !
jay was definitely not jealous
it’s not like heeseung’s posture was getting better from playing video games all night
unfortunately for jay though, heeseung’s wallet was getting fatter
and the meat prices at the restaurant were getting higher
meaning that jay couldn’t even make a comforting bowl of steak and pasta to make himself feel better
so he watched as heeseung was able to buy a nicer smelling hoodie, get nicer lights, and indulge in better quality ramen while he was stuck with the same everything
maybe it was a rash decision, but after seeing heeseung effortlessly cover his, jake’s, and sunghoon’s combined convenience store bill so easily (without using jake’s employee discount), he became determined
he wanted money, he needed money, he needed to be able to buy that $26 per pound steak comfortably without gawking at the bill as if he just got swindled by a dead cow
meaning he let everyone else go to bed before dashing to the 24/7 grocery store and buying everything needed to cook his favourite shrimp pasta
his mouth was watering as he got the shrimps from the tired man behind the seafood shrimps and tried not to wince at the price of eggs for his fresh pasta dough
he gave out an uncomfortable smile at the cashier as he pointedly avoided any mention or sight of the price he was paying
he walked back down to his apartment, snooping into heeseung’s room, only to gind the computer engineer student passed out ungracefully on his bed after going on a no-sleep marathon for the past week
he grabbed the camera he knew was from the uni’s film department and then shut the door
making sure to put heeseung’s nicer hoodie on the ground as a poor attempt to soundproof his roommate’s room
he sighed as he went through his ingredients, deciding he would meal prep for the week and cook for tonight
he set up the kitchen, making sure to make it as aesthetic as possible as he could in his run down apartment
he washed all the vegetables, got out his nice chopping board, wiped the counters like three times, and even took out the fancy knives he begged his mom to get him as a housewarming gift
he dressed in his nicer shirt, made sure to roll up his sleeves because according to jake, the ladies love that, and set up the camera to make sure it shows just enough of his arms
he took a deep breath, and started filming, using his phone and two of heeseung’s three cameras to film all the aesthetic angles he could think of that did not show his face
he wasn’t trying to show his eyebags that the price of butter caused him
filming took an absurdly long time, he started around 1:30 in the morning and finished at 7, watching as heeseung stared at his hoodie on the floor and walked out to see ten boxes of shrimp and pasta meal-prepped with jay scrambling with a camera to take pictures of the finished meal
heeseung just shrugged and moved to eat cereal straight from the box
once jay was finally satisfied with the amount of footage he collected, he shamelessly sent it to sunghoon with a nice message … if you don’t edit this like the pinterest worthy video that it can be, there will be no more reaching your protein goals
it was safe to say that jay was satisfied with the finished and edited video that he received three days later
now jay wasn’t a monster, since his video was mainly asmr, he added all the captions himself and let himself have some fun with how he typed out his thoughts
and there began the channel, the dinner diaries
the video was posted at the crack ass of dawn and garnered around a thousand views in a day
why? jay had no clue, but what he did know was that the man at the seafood counter offered his a discount the next time he saw jay
which jay smiled as he continued shooting and planning his next meal/video
he looked at his bank account and took one more longing look at the steak
soon…
soon he would be able to eat all the steak he wants
HOW IT'S GOING !
jake and sunghoon didn’t dare question the nice meals they were receiving from jay
heeseung didn’t question why their kitchen was slowly becoming more fancy every day
and even heeseung’s girlfriend stopped questioning why they were only eating at heeseung’s home for date nights
it was safe to say that jay had become a machine
he was cooking every other week, filming and obsessing over how each angle of his kung pao chicken was looking
making sure that the satisfying crunch that was supposed to come through in his crispy cauliflower bites for his vegetarian viewers were coming through
he was all over the kitchen, making sure that no one even thought about stepping foot in it without his supervision
everything was meticulous
however, since jay was such a perfectionist, he knew that his channel couldn’t just thrive off of recipe asmrs
so he branched out, he went out to restaurants, gave his review and showed how to replicate the components of the dish
he vlogged himself going grocery shopping, and getting his food science degree, and showing the difference between high quality packaging and high quality food
he also only showed his face in his vlogs, as it felt kind of awkward taking the time to set up a camera in public that doesn’t look at his face
so he gained a reputation amongst multiple cooks, whether it were eight year olds wanting to impress their moms who thought of him as a cool older brother, teenagers and younger adults who thought he was helpful and apparently attractive, and even older aunties who cooed in his comments about what a helpful young boy he was
he even started including his friends in his videos, engaging in dumb challenges with heeseung’s twitch channel on who can cook the best without a recipe
or who can eat the most spicy shrimp, when jay accidentally overmarinated the sea creature
it was fun
jay was having so much fun
but what really sealed the deal on the cake was when a michelin star chef commented under one of his videos saying … woah, reminds me of myself, you got a great future kid !
so jay might have giggled like a school girl at that comment and also might have made like five posts about that comment
sunghoon looked at him in disgust and said something about keeping the nonchalance alive, but was then threatened once more with disappearing protein
however, the internet found themselves agreeing with the random certified chef and started calling jay mr. michelin chef
some even calling chefs to certify jay - which he declined but appreciated nonetheless
but the best perk of being a youtuber was the money
the money that went into bettering his videos
but also the money that went into his grocery bills
and so the next time jay went grocery shopping, he said the most beautiful words the world has ever known
“can i get two pounds of steak please”
and when the meat was finally secured, jay couldn’t even hide the smile that came across his face
at last, he could eat happy
INTRODUCING THE COUPLE; MR AND MRS "FOOD MAKES THE MOOD"
HOW YOU MET
every other week without fail you made sure to eat at mrs.kim’s
and after awhile, even she anticipated you, kai, and taehyun, and always prepared food that not only tasted good but also was good for you and ur unhealthy sodium intake
however this week, it was a little busier than usual
for reasons unbeknownst to you, your first mukbang went viral again, probably because you hit five million subscribers, but still, you don’t think that warranted you having to sit in the cold as you waited to eat at the restaurant you made famous
not only that but the group of boys behind you were so loud that it made you want to throw a pair of disposable chopsticks at them
so you did the mature thing and grumbled and complained to taehyun
grumbled to him about how you just the broth of your favourite miso ramen and how you also wanted to extra chashu in your ramen
“why the fuck do i have to be in the cold, i should be treated like a queen here considering im the one who tasted the menu enough to make it as good as it is”
as you were leaned against taehyun, pouting and grumbling you heard his voice
except taehyun’s voice wasn’t talking to you, but to his friend on the phone like three meters away from you
which made you come to the horrifying realisation that the man that you were leaning on was not kang taehyun
you closed your eyes and let out a gulp as you refused to turn around to face this unknown guy who suddenly lets innocent girls lean on them
“are you a creep?” is all you asked
instead of hearing an old man’s voice, you instead heard a deep warm one coming from the chest you were leaning against as he let out a small laugh, “i wanna say no, but i think even creeps would give that response,”
you couldn’t help but smile at his response, “i guess that’s true,” you said, “i guess what i really wanna ask is if your here for the famous food or the hot lady that made it famous,”
at first you refused to get off this man because of sheer awkwardness, however as he lightly moved himself so you were placed more in the middle than directly on his bone structure you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave the warmth he was providing, “well that depends,” he replied, “while i am here for the food, it would be wrong for me to deny how pretty the girl is that made it worth standing in line for,” there was a pause, “assuming that girl is you”
you hid a giggle as you nodded
“what’s your name?” you found yourself asking
“jay, “ he said
you smiled, "that’s a nice name”
to be honest, jay wanted to go grocery shopping tonight
he was so excited to finally see if the three for the price of one deal was on the cheese section, but instead he was dragged by jake to try a restaurant that went viral for its affordability and yummy food
which is why jay found himself, slightly tipsy due to jake’s insistence that the liquor would keep them warm in the cold night, standing in line
he was ignoring heeseung, jake, and sunghoon who were busy being a nuisance to all those that dared to breathe near them, with their loud talking and nonsense topics, even jay couldn’t help but roll his eyes at them
but he couldn’t help but pause all his thoughts as a girl leaned on his chest, as if he had known her forever
the girl was pretty, like really pretty
but jay wasn’t really sure if that was the alcohol talking
what he did know, was that his responses were because of the alcohol, because there is no way he would be able to handle talking to such a pretty girl without wanting to shit himself
so he thanked jake’s annoying ass for forcing a sip of whiskey down his throat as he looked down at you and asked for your name
and he couldn’t help how his pupils turned into hearts at how beautiful your name sounded
there was a small pause after that, only disrupted by your decision to get off his chest and to see the man who made you giggle for the first time in awhile.
and you weren’t disappointed in the least
you two smiled at each other with ease, your cheeks pink because of the cold and his because of the whiskey
“so,” jay started, “you eat here a lot?”
you nodded, pride puffing up in your chest, “been here since the beginning,” you said, ignoring the established in 1988 sign that hung above you
jay smiled at your enthusiasm, “what do you like?”
you started talking about your favourite foods, mainly mrs.kim’s ramen
to which jay responded, “did you know miso ramen is one of the easiest broths to make? it just takes the right paste and aromatics to get it,”
you blinked at him, “have you made it before?”
he shrugged, “i was debating it for a video of mine,” he paused, “i make cooking videos online,” he explained
you swear cupid just shot an arrow into your heart as you stared at him
you continued asking questions, asking about how your favourite meals from certain restaurants were made while jay patiently explained the theoretical technique that went down
You both were so wrapped up in your conversation that you didn’t even notice the line moving forward
neither did you notice kai and taehyun talking to heeseung, jake, and sunghoon about who the other person was with their friend
neither did you notice how mrs.kim made sure the two of you sat separately from your friends
it didn’t matter, especially not to jay who had come to see what methods made the food stand out at mrs.kim
after all, hearing you talk about all your favourite foods so passionately made him want to cook it all for you
THE YUMMIEST COUPLE AWARD GOES TOO
it became increasingly common for you to be at jay’s apartment
it started a week after meeting at mrs.kim’s, he would invite you to try new recipes
meaning that instead of going to restaurants for your once every three week mukbangs, you found yourself at this pretty boy’s house scarfing down his delicious lobster pasta
jake and sunghoon would watch in disgust as jay didn’t even scold you on how sauce was getting on the countertop, simply smiling and giving you another bite while wordlessly wiping the counter
each week, and after a while, each day you would come into his apartment, whether it would be after a mukbang, a long day, or simply just craving jay-sized company and would be met with a mouth-watering aroma that no restaurant could rival
he would start accompanying you in your mukbangs, taking over mrs.kim’s role of making sure your diet was balanced while providing commentary on how each dish was probably made
while you would come grocery shopping with him and tell him what youve been craving so he could base the next video after you
to be honest, your friends had no clue what the two of you were
after a month, taehyun and kai simply accepted jay tagging along with them to film mukbangs, while heeseung simply made room on their shoe rack for you
but if anyone asked them if you and jay were dating, they would just shrug and move on
to be honest, even the two of you weren’t clear if you were dating
instead, you just like being with each other, whether it was studying or late night trips to the convenience store
it wasn’t until you asked jay for his lobster spaghetti (your favourite) after a long day did the question get answered
as you smiled at jay as a thank you for his delicious food and comfort, jay did the bravest thing he’s ever done, even including the time he let jake cut a live lobster, he kissed you
you remember your eyes widening and stiffening, before melting into his natural aroma of garlic butter and bread and kissing him back
it was safe to say that heeseung came in to the apartment only to leave
not that you cared, with your boyfriend being the best cook in the world
it felt weird having to announce your relationship to people
but you and jay simply agreed to let people come to the conclusion by themselves
while that mainly applied to the internet, it was also fun to see how disgustingly affectionate the two of you could act before everyone would realize
it took mrs.kim less than three minutes, rewarding you with teas that were good for fertility (that made the two of you red and choke) along with a special chocolate cake
your friends ranged from a day (heeseung) to two months (sunghoon and kai)
but the internet was another thing
you started forcing jay to carry a pompompurin plushie with him everywhere, saying that whenever he gets upset at old ladies hogging all the fresh bell peppers, to simply look at the keychain and calm down
and of course, you started bringing a badtz maru plushie with you, as the bird obviously looked like your boyfriend
people noticed, of course they noticed
they noticed the yellow dog that was always in frame during jay’s videos and they noticed the bird plushie that you always held onto when the food got too spicy
but it wasn’t until the next step, of having you start taste testing his food at the end of his videos, or hearing your voice in between asmr clips, did the internet start clocking it
and it didn’t stop there, when people noticed the bentos you ate during your vlogs, internet detectives discovered that those exact bentos were being meal prepped by jay in his last videos
but the two of you treated it so normally that no one dared brought it up
instead letting this relationship happen before their eyes
it went on for a few more years, they watched as jay moved on to a nicer blogger kitchen, and you went to do mukbangs at slightly fancier restaurants
but all that mattered was that the two of you were fundamentally the same
from jay’s asmr to your commentary about shin ramyun, the internet didn’t dare complain
it wasn’t until the two of you dropped a post with you in a wedding dress and jay in a suit eating ramen at mrs.kim’s restaurant did the internet officially lose their minds
cause you two became the definition of love for all the food lovers out there <3
──── working a minimum wage job at a bakery and being a functional college student is hard enough, but giving one of the richest boy at your school food poisoning... ( reader ) has to do everything in her power to get woonhak not to sue, even if it means getting him to fall in love 𓈒
pairing ┆ rich!woonhak x fem!reader 🥞
🫓 content smau slice of life crack fluff college au mentions of vaping mentions of alcohol convenience of love angst profanity suggestive ++ more 。━━ ft bnd, stella h2h, haerin njz, anton riize, 'nd maki &team
💌 haiiii!!!! sua finally writing smth 🥹🥹🥹 i genuinely thought of this while trying to clean burn stains on my oven sooo idk . also thankyew maybabie for confirming my idea wasnt stupid asf 🫡🫡
profile 🥖 #burgering🍔 worldstarr
𓋫།⠀⠀𓈒 chapters coming soon 🤍𓏼 release date: tbd
taglist 🥞 crickets. . . ( send an ask to be added / comment )
─── 𝑓rom 로하 :: shhshsvehdbeh do u guys like this or no 🥺🥺🥺 ,, do we fw freaky lix orr.. alsoalso i'm trying this new layout i've been having an identity crisis for god knows how long i hope i actually keep this one ♡⸝⸝
