#Diego kang

[dood-itsradical]

Omg I actually don't like dg but why does it's not as hard to imagine scenarios with him kms 💀 anyway imagine f!reader and james lee as duo but you are goo while he's gun, you catch my drift???

"You think this short makes my butt looked tight?"

The view is something. And James is an observer. The way you purposely bend your ass directly to his face.

"Yes." He replied bluntly. You frowned and picked up the other dropped fabrics that you have already tested. His eyes followed silently.

"Picking swimsuit is hard." You sighed.

"Just get a bikini." He suggested, leaning against the reserved cushion.

You stood back up and scoffed, "Bikinis are sooo last season. You see 'em everywhere. Maybe a one piece. Or, or! Straight up diving suit." You grinned.

He cocked a brow, "That for a pool party?" He brushed you off, "Just get naked."

You paused then laughed, "Hah! Why haven't I think of that? It's so easy. Nobody wants this flat assets anyway."

"I do."

"What?"

"What?"

You just stare at each other for a good minute. You let out a snort, "Oh~ I get it. You're tryna give me a payback for not giving you a turn the other night, huh?" You poked his cheek. "You freaky ass."

Crossing his arm, he exhaled through his nose but spare no reply.

Masterlist

[locomoqo]

switchin' them positions

ft. Gun Park, Goo Kim, & Diego Kang x reader [separate]

details: NSFW content, sub characters, p in v (gun's part), bondage + cockwarming (goo's part), handjob + orgasm denial (DG's part)

A/N: BOO!!!! drops bomb and runs (literally just smthing i came up with like..what if u make that hunk go sub..esp the big 3 ++ goo is the subbiest out of the 3 tbh)

ᯓ★—GUN

Gun’s back is pressed against the headboard, his dark eyes fixed on you. He’s already stripped down, his body tense beneath you as you straddle his hips, feeling the warmth of his dick pressing against your inner thighs. His hands rest on your waist, fingers tightening instinctively as you start to move, slowly rolling your hips, teasing him with every shift of your body.

“Let me,” he growls softly, his grip tightening as if he’s about to flip you over, take control like he always does. But you shake your head, pressing your palms against his chest, holding him down with a firm but gentle pressure. 

“Not tonight,” you say, your voice soft but insistent, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Tonight, you don’t get to be in charge.”

His eyes narrow, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t fight you—not yet. He’s too curious, too caught off guard by the way you’re looking at him, with a calm determination that he’s not used to. He doesn’t let go of your hips; his fingers dig into your skin, and you can feel the tension thrumming through him, the desire to flip the script, to take you down and make you beg for him.

“Just let me take care of you,” you murmur, leaning down to brush your lips over his, the kiss soft, lingering. You feel his body shudder beneath you, the barest hint of surrender, but he still watches you warily, as if he’s not sure he can trust himself to let go.

Slowly, you start to move, your hips moving against him, taking him inside you inch by inch. His breath hitches, and his sharp, predatory focus giving way to something softer. His hands twitch against your waist, but he stays where he is, allowing you to set the pace.

“Just relax, handsome," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you move, slow and unhurried, letting him feel every inch of the sweet walls of your pussy.

He makes a low, frustrated sound, his hands tightening again as if he’s about to take over, but you press him back down. Your fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him subtly gasp. “No,” you insist gently, but firmly. “You get to relax tonight. Relax.” You put emphasis on the last word.

He looks up at you, his breathing ragged, and you can see the war in his eyes—wanting to give in, but hating how exposed it makes him feel. But he doesn’t fight you, doesn’t try to take back control, and there’s something almost desperate in the way he watches you, as if he’s never felt this kind of weakness before. It's almost like he's turning into putty in your hands.

As you move, your pace quickening, you can feel the tension in him slowly unraveling. His fingers loosening their grip on your waist, his head falling back, exposing the column of his throat. God, the way your pussy just squeezed the life out of his cock felt good, he wouldn't admit it but letting you set the pace for once felt good.

You lean down, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his neck, savoring the rare moment of intimacy as his body begins to respond to yours, his hips lifting to meet your movements.

“You’re doing so well,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear, and he shudders, his eyes fluttering shut as if he can’t bear to look at you while he’s like this—laid bare, completely exposed. There’s a rawness in the way he grips your thighs, his fingers trembling just slightly as he gives himself over to the moment, letting you take him to the edge.

Every sound he makes—every low, breathy moan, every ragged gasp—feels like a victory, each one more desperate than the last as he lets go of the control he’s always held so tightly. His muscles are tense beneath you, his breath hot and uneven as he watches you through half-lidded eyes, his jaw clenched with the effort of keeping himself in check.

Your words are soft, soothing, and you can see the way they hit him, the way his breath catches as he looks up at you, his gaze suddenly raw and open in a way you’ve never seen before. His hands slide up to your back, holding you close, and you can feel the way he trembles—just a little, just enough to let you know that you’ve cracked that icy exterior.

His moans grow just a tad bit louder, his control slipping further with each roll of your hips, his breaths coming faster, rougher. You feel his hips move up into you to try and meet your hips, his eyes squeezing shut, his grip on you tightening as he lets you take him apart piece by piece until he’s gasping your name, lost in a pleasure he can’t control.

When he finally shudders and falls apart beneath you, his seed painting your insides white, there’s no pretense left—just raw, unguarded emotion, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his body spent.

You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath yours. He looks up at you, and for a second, you see the barest hint of a smile before he pulls you down into a fierce, hungry kiss, as if to reclaim some of the power he’d let slip away.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with that.

ᯓ★—GOO

Goo should’ve known better. Maybe he wouldn’t have said yes if he’d realized things would end up here, or perhaps if he’d actually taken you seriously, the consequences wouldn’t have been so... brutal.

It started with a simple request—you wanted to switch things up in the bedroom. He laughed, entertained the thought, but never let you follow through, always brushing it off with a smirk and a smug, “Next time.” So, this time, you decided to make sure he’d regret that.

You pushed him down onto the bed, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss, and before he knew it, he heard it—the click of handcuffs locking his wrists above his head. His eyes widened as you pulled back, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“Alright then,” he chuckled, half-disbelieving. A playful, cocky grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see what you got, boss.”

You straddled his hips with an intensity that made that cockiness of his falter. For just a second, you caught that slight drop in his expression. “Stay,” you ordered, voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

He chuckled again, but there was a faint trace of uncertainty there now, a sliver of something almost like nerves.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” he mocked, but it sounded hollow, his confidence starting to crack.

You leaned close, your breath warm against his ear. “I mean it, Goo. You move, and this stops. Understand?”

You felt his body tense beneath you, the slightest catch in his breathing. He laughed, but it was softer, less certain. “O–Okay, whatever you say, sugar,” he muttered, voice slipping as he started to take you just a little more seriously.

You rewarded him with a slow, deliberate grind against his cock, feeling it harden beneath you as his breath hitched, his fingers twitching above his head, clearly aching to grab you but unable to.

“You’re gonna listen, right?” you teased, voice low, testing just how far you could push him.

“Yes,” he replied, but it wasn’t steady, the usual cocky edge blunted, replaced with a hint of submission.

“Good,” you murmured. You could feel the tension in his arms as he strained against the cuffs, testing his restraints but holding back, for now.

He could feel his cock twitching to be inside of you, but he could do nothing but watch as you grinded on his length. That smirk of his was slipping fast, the usual swagger replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“Still think this is funny?” you asked, pressing your hands down on his chest, pinning him harder. His eyes widened, and you watched as a bead of sweat formed on his brow, his cock pressing harder against you as he looked up, flushed, defiant, but beginning to crack.

Oh, who was he kidding? You looked so fucking hot like this. His dick was only getting harder by the second.

“N–No,” he admitted, voice breathy. He licked his lips, gaze locked on yours, his arrogance unraveling with each passing second.

You leaned in, slowly grinding on him. Each touch, each kiss was a slow burn, drawing out every last bit of his restraint. He started off with cocky retorts, but the longer you teased, denying him even the slightest touch, the more his smug façade crumbled.

His breath came in sharp gasps, smirks turning into bitten-back moans when you finally sank down onto his cock—agonizingly slow at that—and when he tried to lift his head to capture your lips, you pulled back, keeping him right on the edge.

Goo couldn’t handle this. Just when he thought you’d finally give him some release, you went completely still on top of him. No, no, he’d hold out—you’d move sooner or later, right?

But you didn’t. And now he was starting to feel cornered, his body aching for you to move. The way your cunt would give his dick a squeeze every now and then, the stillness so torturous he thought he might lose it.

“Please,” he murmured, voice stripped of all bravado, replaced with genuine need. His hips bucked against yours, wrists pulling desperately at the cuffs, eyes wide and pleading.

“What was that?” you asked, pretending not to hear, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“P-Please,” he repeated, louder this time, voice breaking, his face flushed as he looked up, wild-eyed and almost desperate. “Fuck, I—need you—”

You smirked, leaning down until your lips brushed against his, voice dipping into a low, teasing whisper. “Oh, now you’re begging? I thought you were the one in control.”

He let out a broken groan, head falling back as he tugged at the cuffs, his usual arrogance shattered. “Please,” he said again, voice raw, the word slipping out like a whimper, leaving him exposed to you.

You couldn’t help but grin, a thrill running through you as you saw him so undone, so needy—all because of you.

“Well,” you murmured, finally granting him a slow movement of your hips. The friction drawing a deep, shuddering moan from him. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want...as long as you keep being a good boy for me. Can you do that for me?” you purr at a tone that's so sweet yet razzing.

“Yes, yes-” he gasped, trembling beneath you, wide, desperate eyes locked onto yours, no trace of his usual swagger left. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just—please, just fuckin’ move.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow at him with a small pout. He immediately shakes his head, “N–No, sugar, ‘m sorry–I just-”

Oh this was just too amusing.

ᯓ★—DG

Diego Kang, the level headed man. The one man circle, the legend of the first generation…the titles he’s earned could go on and on. Always exuding that calm confidence, that unshakable aura. But tonight, that was exactly what you aimed to break.

After all, he was still a man, wasn't he?

Your little movie date night with him is long forgotten by you as you shift closer, slipping your hand under the blanket, trailing your fingers over his thigh. You catch the briefest flicker of his eyes down to you, a faint question there, but he says nothing. Unfazed, as always.

Yet you don’t stop. Your hand slides further, pressing just a little harder, and when your fingers graze his cock through his sweats, you feel him tense ever so slightly. He doesn’t say a word, but there’s a slight exhale, barely audible, as he shifts in his seat.

You pull it out, touch feather-light as you ran your hand over the length of his cock, only teasing at first. He didn’t flinch, only looked down at you with that calm, unreadable gaze of his, like he was trying to figure out what game you were playing.

“You’re not going to get to me,” he murmured, that calm, even tone never wavering.

You smirked, looking up at him. “Is that so?”

Leaning forward, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, giving it a slow, torturous stroke from base to tip. He let out a measured breath, eyes narrowing as he tried to keep his expression neutral.

“Mmhm,” he replied, but there was the faintest tremor in his voice, just barely enough to let you know you were getting to him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Slowly, you ran your thumb over his slit, feeling his body tense under your touch. His jaw clenched, but he kept his eyes locked on the screen, refusing to let you see him slip.

“Nothing to say, hm?” you teased, keeping your strokes excruciatingly slow, keeping him right on the edge, but never giving him enough to tip over. The way your hand feels around his dick has him wanting more. More than this.

He could just imagine your pretty little lips wrapped around his thick cock or maybe even better—him sinking every single inch of him into you. He bites his lip, hands flexing at his sides.

It makes him swallow hard, adam’s apple bobbing as he forces himself to stay in control. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he replied, his voice tight but still steady.

Your fingers moved faster, stroking him with a little more pressure, watching his resolve waver, bit by bit. His breath hitched, his eyelids fluttering just slightly as he fought to keep his composure.

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I just… keep you here like this?” you murmured, voice laced with a teasing sweetness as you slowed your strokes, edging him right up to that breaking point before pulling back again.

His lips parted, and for a split second, you saw it—the faintest flicker of frustration in his eyes, a crack in that calm exterior. He let out a shaky breath, biting down on the inside of his cheek, clearly still fighting to stay composed.

“That’s... fine,” he managed, but his voice was strained, his hands clenching into fists at his sides now.

With a smirk, you leaned in, pressing your lips against his neck, littering the space with slow kisses. “I don’t think you can handle it,” you whispered against his skin. “In fact, I think you’re going to beg.”

His body tensed, and his breathing quickened, but he still wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of breaking. “I won’t,” he replied, though his voice had grown softer, barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, moving your hand with a firmer stroke, watching as his cool demeanor slowly melted away, replaced by the raw need he could no longer hide.

“Let’s see,” you challenged, stroking him just a little faster. His gaze shifts down to his dick, looking furious at the constant denial of release. He could feel the tension build in his body as he struggled to hold onto what was left of his control.

Finally, a low, ragged moan escaped him, and he gave in. Those eyes hazy with desire as he whispered, barely audible, “Please…”

“Didn't hear you,” you teased, slowing your movements to a crawl, dragging out each stroke until he let out another shuddering breath.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice softer, almost pleading. His eyes met yours, the last of his composure slipping away as he gave in

You leaned back, smiling victoriously as he looked at you, expression shattered and vulnerable. It was everything you wanted, and you hadn’t even pushed him all the way over the edge yet.

“See?” you whispered, your fingers ghosting over his cock again, driving him right back to the brink. “I told you you’d beg.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

DG x Reader: Bodyguard

G/N. Cracky. You, the bodyguard. DG, the 'helpless' idol. Masterlists

When the rest of DG's senior team insisted he get a bodyguard, he thought it was a joke.

What sort of idiot would attack James Lee.

Then he remembered he's not James Lee, at least not to the general public. He's Diego Kang, CEO of PTJ Entertainment, an idol with amazing moves and an ass that won't quit but no fighting experience.

Right. Right. 

He supposes that makes sense. It would've been suspicious to say no, especially with his legions of stans and stalker, and his prior history.

.

.

You're not exactly who he would have picked.

Bodyguards are usually monstrous, huge, intimidating men. You're not really any of the above.

In fact, you're kinda cute. And apparently your resume is also impressive enough too.

"Perfect candidate." 

"Extensive training." 

"Unmatched awareness." 

-were chirped into his ear before he gave you his nod of approval.

Besides, DG thinks it might work to his advantage to employ someone so unassuming.

.

.

"No upskirt pictures!" You yell at the paparazzi, parting them to make way for the pink-haired idol, and pointing accusingly.

DG, in a moment of complete confusion, peers down to his own legs in case he really did wear a skirt.

No. He's in his pants, of course he is. His clothing is supplied as part of his sponsorship deal. Why would he be wearing a skirt?

"What was that?" He asks, when you're piled into his minivan. Brows knitted together instead of his usual cold, impassive expression.

You give him a shrug, "Just in case."

"In case of?"

"Just in case," you repeat, tapping your nose and nodding knowingly at him.

.

.

Now, he remembers.

During one of his many many boring meetings, when you were officially under his employment and before you started, he had been warned you might be like this.

.

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“No pictures today!” you holler and the paparazzi groan.

Someone brave enough shouts back why.

“DG lost all five MAMA noms and he’s in a terrible mood. He might ask me to kill you if you take any pictures,” you say back solemnly and without humour.

DG feels bitter but not that bitter. Upon hearing your words, he stifles a laugh into his sleeve and disguises it as a cough.

.

. 

To sum it up, you're an oddball. 

Still, DG tolerates you because of your flashes of brilliance and your brutal honesty.

"Here, sir." You offer up a steaming hot drink and DG raises an eyebrow. "Honey and lemon. For your throat."

When DG doesn't take it, you finally explain. "Your singing sounded awful, sir. Thought you might need it."

Ah.

He did think he sounded off but the yes-men at the studio told him otherwise. He should have trusted his own instincts and makes a mental note to replace them.

DG chuckles to himself before taking the first sip.

.

.

"No touching please," you jump in just as a fan is starting to get handsy.

"Excuse me?!"

You turn away from them, letting their indignant outrage slide off you and usher DG on to the next group to interact with.

DG gives you a nod of thanks and you give him a subtle wink back.

.

.

"You best not be zooming in on his tits," you snarl at another paparazzi. "No under boob, side boobs, any boobs!"

DG glances down at his chest. Fully concealed in a mock neck jumper. There's no bare skin on show at all.

"Can you explain?" He asks, once you climb in the minivan after him and slide the door close.

"You know." You say, handing over another honey and lemon drink.

"I don't, actually."

"You know," you repeat, eyes signalling towards his chest area and hand gesticulating at your own. "And, y'know." 

You nod at his hot drink and pull a face, indicating that he was pitchy as hell in the last rehearsal.

DG shakes his head at your antics but takes a sip regardless.

.

.

"For you, sir." You hold out a brand new baseball cap with both hands and head bowed respectfully.

"I don't want this."

"Yes but you need it."

"..."

"For your bad hair day."

"What?"

"Trust me, sir."

DG narrows his eyes at you. You're rude as hell, no tact at all. He’s not sure if you even have a filter, or you just say whatever thought pops into your mind. 

However.

Somewhere along the way, he finds that you're the only person that tells him the truth.

He takes the cap and thrusts it on his head.

"Much better!" You pipe up with an oblivious grin, adding insult to injury.

.

.

"What are you doing?" DG pulls a face as you wrap your arm around his waist and hurry him on.

"There's someone tailing you," you murmur, "I've been watching them for the last five minutes."

There is? How on earth did this person get past his radar?

As if answering his thoughts, you tell him, "They look like a normal ajumma. No-one would have suspected her if I wasn't watching."

You pick up the pace and DG matches you stride for stride.

"Your manager is waiting just up ahead with the car. I'll take care of them." You give DG a salute and a toothy smile as he looks at you in alarm.

In all honesty, you look a bit helpless. Yes, your resume looks great and yes, your recommendations are glowing but DG hasn't actually seen you in action yet. He can't help the way his stomach lurches thinking about you in danger.

And what if this isn’t an untrained, rabid stan, but someone who knows about his other life and is after James Lee?

"I'll be fine, sir!" You turn quickly and sprint off in the opposite direction at breakneck speed.

.

.

A couple hours later, after DG has paced endlessly back and forth, you show up at his office.

Your hair is a little out of place, and your regulation suit is a little dusty but you're otherwise untouched.

"Are you ok?" his eyes snap to yours.

"Of course, sir!" Your beam is as bright as ever.

DG exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, relief overwhelming him and he desperately wills his pulse to return to normal.

"Call me James," he sighs when he realises it's not working and his heart seems to beat quicker and louder now you're in sight.

You don't ask any questions like why James, why not Diego. You accept it at face value, no doubt having some secrets of your own.

Your smile is unfaltering as you respond, "Sure thing, James, sir!"

[sasucaty]

"I alone am the honoured one" aah mfs

[rikosseen]

James Lee/DG x Reader: “Is that James Lee?”

Anon request? | Featuring the gen 1 kings

Seokdu Wang watches Taesoo intently, slowly picking up the brussel sprouts on his plate. The Ansan King is trembling, completely dropping the dead boar he’s holding on the ground, his only eye glued on the small TV with a pulsating bulge.

Is that James fucking Lee?

And- Lo and behold, it most certainly is. The menace is on Taesoo’s TV screen, holding an almost identical little girl in his arms, laughing. The bastard is laughing.

“Why’s that fucker on national TV?”

Seokdu offers a casual shrug, while Jichang gives him a sharp look, clearly disapproving of the fact that Taesoo just dropped an entire animal on the floor.

“Mm’apparently he’s an Idol,” Jaegyeon snorts, slurping on a drink.

An Idol? The prick who took his eyeball all those years ago is a prissy celebrity?

Taesoo’s face twitches in something close to a seizure as he watches James answer a question from the interviewer, proudly proclaiming that his supposed daughter inherited her red hair from him. A woman—his girlfriend? Wife?—stands beside him, draped on his arm, looking entirely too content.

With a sharp hiss, Taesoo flings his jacket over the screen, as though it could somehow shield him from the sheer injustice of the moment. The other kings exchange knowing glances, but Taesoo is already stalking off, his frustration practically vibrating in the air. He plops down outside, fists clenched, eyes shooting angry lasers at the ground.

Fuck. How many fans does he have? He’s not even that good looking. He’s fucking megamind with that forehead.

Taesoo scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket, and once he does, goes on a rampage search. Creating new accounts left and right, he dives into a sea of fan edits, each one more nauseating than the last. The fawning comments directed towards James- Diego, only fuel his rage further.

Taesoo decides that he needs to balance things out, and makes his very own hate comments to satisfy himself. But it’s not enough. He’s furious at James’ success, and wants to see the man fall.

And then, it happens. His eyes fall upon a video— a twerking video. Of Diego Kang throwing it back and doing aegyo. Taesoo’s fake eye pops out, and instantly, he’s rolling on the ground, cackling like a deranged weirdo.

Jaegyeon steps outside, only to be perplexed at the sight of the grown man writhing on the ground. With a scowl, he considers running Taesoo over with the Initial N again.

[koiiiji]

busan chapter with 1gen kings be like

[person25]

Me: I need them in my BONES😍

Also me, an asexual: would never participate in sexual intimacy

[moonbyulsstuff]

Hi, could you write a Dg or Jaegyeon Na x Wife!Reader who is pregnant with triplets and a member of the first generation, she was known for having an elegant fighting style and being the strongest woman, the Workers or the Allied looking for it (sorry if it's too much I would understand that you refuse)

She's My Fiancée/Wife.

Female Reader.

Requested.

Female Reader.

Request Rules.

Masterlist.

Jaegyeon Na:

"Who are you?" Jaegyeon glared down at the black haired boy, his arms slung around [Name] shoulder who was caressing her giant belly. "U-Ummm.." The boy said as h recognized Jaegyeon but it seems like the blonde didn't.

"Why were you talking to my wife huh? What business do you have with her?"

Jaegyeon got close to the boy face, looking at him angrily before his ears was pulled back by his wife. [Name] chuckled and smiled at the boy. "I'm sorry about him, he gets protective.." [Name] said.

The boy nervously chuckled and nodded. "I-It's alright..." He said as [Name] pulled Jaegyeon back like it was nothing, the boy stared in shock.

'No wonder she was regarded as the strongest women back then...' He thought

"But, I'm sorry. I won't join." [Name] said as Jaegyeon looked at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?" Jaegyeon asked, as his eyes diverted back to the black haired boy.

"I see..." "You see... I'm pregnant and that life is behind me now... I want to live peacefully with my husband and my children.." [Name] said holding Jaegyeon arm, her fingers caressing his biceps which made him blush.

They turned around but not before [Name] gave the boy one last smile. "Daniel, right?" She said as the boy nodded, she hummed. "You look like him.." [Name] commented before walking away with his husband leaving Daniel dumbfounded at her words.

After walking for awhile, Jaegyeon turned to look at his wife. "What was that all about?" He asked, [Name] looked at him. She smiled and chuckled, leaning her against his shoulder.

"Nothing, just a curious kid.."

Jaegyeon hummed. "You said you put that life behind you... was he mentioning what you were like before?" He said as [Name] chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, he somehow knew... maybe someone told him..." She said while caressing her stomach.

He softened seeing her round big stomach, they stopped by his car as he crouched down and pressed his head against her stomach. His hands caressing his stomach.

"Ahh, I can't wait for our triplets to be born... little you's running around the house~" Jaegyeon said with a huge smile which caused [Name] chuckle.

Diego Kang:

"Don't bother with it Eugene."

Diego said crossing his arms, looking at the black haired boy across the table who only chuckled and tilted his head. "Why is that?" He asked.

"Because she won't, she's heavily pregnant." Diego said making Eugene chuckle. "I see, is that why there's a rumor going on you're going to get married?" Eugene said as Diego only stared at him.

Eugene chuckled, seeing that he was right.

"How far along is she?" "4 months in.." Diego leaned against the chair. "Don't bother trying to get in contact with her, no matter what. She won't be joining." Diego said as Eugene chuckled once more and shook his head. "Don't worry, I won't. I won't make a pregnant woman fight." Eugene said.

The meeting between was over, Diego arrived back at his penthouse and was greeted with the smell of cooking in the air. He went to the kitchen and saw his dear wife, [Name] cooking in the kitchen.

Her round belly was evident that she was carrying his children in, it brought happiness inside Diego as he approached her. "[Name].." He said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Welcome back Diego.." She giggled as she turned around and kissed him on the cheek, he hummed in content and looked at the food that she was cooking.

"Cooking chicken stew once more?" He said as [Name] chuckled and nodded. "I was craving it along with hot sauce and some apple..." [Name] said, listing off her cravings.

Diego chuckled and kissed her cheek while softly caressing [Name] huge belly, excited for the triplets to come.

[amphitriteswife]

Onlyfans hc’s

Source: Lookism

Warnings: 18+ content below! And the word ‘moist.’

Character: DG/ James Lee

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@yue-yolk

🍬DG would remain anonymous and would rather use a fake name from his earlier name and kpop star name. This is because his manager…and fangirls would probably cause a ruckus.

🍬because of the fact he could get caught and his fans as a idol (his fans are crazy okay? We saw the stalker girl) he would be more focused on self pleasure and masturbation. He would avoid doing it with another person as much as possible.

🍬He has his hair down there dyed the same color as the hair on his head, it’s not all that bushy and personally keept it trimmed or shaves it off, but if his viewers are fond of more body hair he doesn’t mind it …he would have to dye it a more frequently though

🍬 will not wear underwear. He likes to film the lower part of his stomach and let you see the print on it. It’s already canon that he’s huge so it’s a snake down there. He’ll wear tight pants or presses it against his stomach to make it more visible.

🍬 He would make ASMR videos too, mostly about erotic scenarios or just moaning and groaning. Sometimes, maybe sometimes you can hear him self pleasure in the background if it adds to the scenario, to make it more realistic ofcourse

🍬lots of pictures. He likes pictures in his bed or the shower, but most of them are to tease and will make you come back for more. He’ll have pictures of him laying down on his silky sheets, one hand pulling a piece of the sheet so that you can’t see the part you just so desperately want to see, the best thing you’ll get is a print or outline. It might be better to use your imagination with it.

🍬 He’ll also post videos his workouts, lifting weights, going on runs….it’s just a normal activity right? Except for the fact that his clothing is incredibly tight…no underwear on? And even the angle of the camera is pointed to the most valuable part of his body…is he sweating more than usual?

🍬 POV videos are a must! His face still won’t be visible, but his body will be on display. And dont worry, it’s in multiple positions. He’ll be whatever you want, how loud, what clothes, if you even want him to wear some. His followers are his priority ofcourse. He might even do ‘specials’

🍬 If you’re willing to pay a heavy fee. And i mean a very HEAVY fee, he might reveal his face to you. But be careful, he’s rich remember? So if it’s leaked he’ll find his way to deny it and make sure it’s not going to ruin his reputation. But you will get sued. Even if its anonymous.

🍬 PRAISE. THIS. MAN. IN. THE. COMMENTS. He might just let you upgrade to premium and make special content just for you. Don’t say standard things, make him think you’re worthy. He’s an idol who has seen lots of desperation from others, show him you’re not just some horny fan. (We are-)

🍬 If it comes to a point that his hands can’t help him with stimulation, or that his fans want to see something different: he’ll use toys. It’s not something he does often, but he’ll make sure you never saw anything like it. Most of them are a wide range of pink and sometimes even red. He’ll have them rhinestoned too.

🍬 This man spent and will spend more on different kinds of things that might help with his content. They’re the most luxurious things you can get in that department. Handcuffs? Firm yet comfortable and doesn’t irritate the skin. Rope? It’s the most strongest, yet softest silk you’ll ever lay your eyes on. Vibrator? It’s pink with Swarovski rhinestones as well as his initials on it if you paid to be a premium member.

🍬 roleplay is something he’ll certainly do if he makes videos or erotic sounds. There is a limit though to what he’ll do, he has no problem with most roleplays. But step-cest or actually irl cest is not something he will do. He’ll already stated that before amd has no problems to ban ppl from the chat for even bringing it up

🍬Lowkey rubs his body in oil. Like it wouldn’t be over the top as if he stood in the rain naked or something, but more…moist? He would flex his muscles a lot though. Praise his muscles cause their great.

🍬 he blurs out his butt. Don’t ask him why. He’s scared ppl will do something with it okay? (Even though his dick is on display he’s still scared for his butt.) his butt is masculine and square since he trains his body. It not fluffy or jiggly 😔

🍬 He will not suck okay? He’ll do anything you ask. Use a vibrator. Be submissive, hell even degrading but you will not catch man gobbling on a dildo. He will not. Not ever. Not in a life time. Nada.

🍬 someone in the comments said that his hair had the same color of a pink dildo and he started crying because he actually thought about it and became insecure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s all pookies😔🙏 might do jaegyeon na next or make a pt2

[slowd1ving]

Hello, I love your work, can you write a Dg x boyfriend! Reader who is like Osaragi from Sakamoto days please, take care of yourself, you are great

FAR FROM ANY ROAD ゜・DG

"And strange hands halted me, the looming shadows danced; I fell down to the thorny brush and felt the trembling hands." And after the numbing day concludes, after the rain swallows all your sorrows, where else do you return if not home? honestly anon when I got this request I was fully wondering whether you meant the full deal of osagiri and was going to write actual assassin reader... then I re read the request. anyways hope you enjoy this short fic because once more I was at a loss whether to write actual headcanons or a scenario.. pairing: diego kang x male reader warnings: canon typical violence, blood, sort of hurt/comfort? not comedic sorry :'( wc: 1.4k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Tonight, the rivulets of rain streaming down your body feel particularly heavy. Those drops chase the blood that stains your skin and seeps into your clothes: petrichor battling against the acrid, metallic reek; purification against the concentrated sanguine of your sins and the sins of these assailants. 

In this abandoned construction site, you feel much like these unfinished buildings. A crude facade with crumbling foundations. Of course, the unconscious bodies of these Workers resemble those decrepit structures far more—alas, you’re not referencing their physical state, but rather the slightly-numbed, slightly-exhausted mental state you’re in. 

The bruises and scrapes littering your skin might make any lesser man hiss at his incompetence in guarding his temple, but to you, you absently trace the wounds with curious fascination. One last moment of entertainment, before your fun and games abruptly end. 

“How unpleasant,” you finally utter—the bleak words are washed away by the rain, to be heard by nobody but yourself. It’s always a thrill to perform your Sacred Duty; that is, teaching these wrong-doers a salient lesson that is beaten into their very bones. Your transgressions are only to correct their own sins, not bound to any particular affiliation but yourself. 

Against your injuries, your gelid fingers don’t spark the same warmth he does. It is at this particular moment that the joy completely evaporates, it is at this moment where all you want is to take off the crushing black veil and retreat back home. 

Home. You’ll be late as usual—limping back to the dimly-lit apartment with carmine kissing your knuckles and a frown on your face. 

These hours, where the clouds swirl a rich black, and only the street lamps pity your lonely journey home, no longer feel so welcome. So it's despondently that you start the meander back to the city. 

゜・

It’s early summer when you transfer to his class—almost comically late in the year, James Lee notes. Right on the cusp of the holidays, you stand before your peers with caustically empty eyes and a careful blankness on your face. How dull, he dismisses before crunching down on his candy: an obnoxious gesture that swivels your pupils in his direction. But not much else changes in your face—it seems you’ll be just as boring as his classmates, if not slightly more weird.

Though, as you slip into your seat with almost serpentine grace, as you click your mechanical pencil in such a way he briefly wonders whether you know you’re wielding a writing utensil and not a weapon, as your loping gait starts appearing in the edges of his vision wherever he is—this is where his eyes start following your motions curiously.

These endeavours prove fruitless; you’re a model student, if not subpar to his own vast academic success. There’s nothing noteworthy about your clipped speech, nor about your penchant to eat heaping bowls of food in one serving on the rooftops. Maybe there is that feeling he gets—that you seem to be holding yourself back during sports and other activities—but he’s come to his own conclusion. Boring. And just like that, his interest wanes once more.

It’s in the holidays that he sees you once more. This time, you’re out of uniform and in such peculiar garb he half-believes you’re an apparition: clad in rich black with a veil thrown over your head.  Or at least, he would believe you were a ghost were it not for the heaps of unconscious gang members strewn around you, and the vibrant red staining your fists and face. And when he laughs, when your head finally turns to gaze at the boy at the abandoned parking lot—you look as nonplussed as ever, and that is perhaps the most interesting thing about this ill-fated encounter.

Even with the lacerations cutting deep, you barely wince. Even as he finds you, again and again and again as you’re guts deep in beating these ‘sinners’ up, you barely spare him any greetings as he watches on amusedly. Even as he’s taken to cheering you on from the sidelines, you ignore him just like he did you—though, it’s more matter-of-fact than malicious, like it would be unprofessional to acknowledge him. 

It seems James Lee has found himself a new form of entertainment: all wrapped up neatly in a parcel of a boy with weirdly haunting eyes. 

゜・

But with age, naturally, comes the act of growing up. As he sheds his crimson locks, as he slips on his new moniker and buries his name along with his past, as he finally puts a name on the captivation you’ve bound him in—no longer does he laugh as you throw yourself into danger. 

Rather, with each new scar you accumulate on the vast and brilliant canvas of your skin, he can’t help but feel each pain on his own body. 

This especially bodes true as you stumble across the threshold, back into the lonely recesses of your apartment. It’s a small thing in the suburbs—far from prying eyes that snag on the lace decorating your body, far from those that could pick up on your sins. 

When you shuck off the heavy boots—ever the contrast against the exquisite craftsmanship of your clothing—you want nothing more than to collapse against the cold tiles of the floor. As you take on the more fatal—the more perilous—jobs, the money proportionally increases. 

But you don’t get the chance to sink onto the ground, because warm hands suddenly catch your frigid body just as you’re about to keel over. 

DG, Kang Dagyum, Diego—he’s got many names. James. The man you’ve known for the past three years holds you close to his designer sweater. He willingly lets the plush fabric to be soaked in the sins that trailed in with you: clear, polluted rain, which seems to perfectly encapsulate your sullen mood; mud soaking the hem over your veil; and finally the sanguine, oily blood that never seems to wash off. 

“Sorry.” Guilt eats away at you as you watch the material seep with wickedness. “I ruined it.”

Laconic as ever, you feel worse for staining his clothes than you do for coming home bruised and bleeding. His heart seems as tattered as you look, wrenching and twisting through his flesh while you inhale the powdery scent of his freshly-laundered loungewear. 

“You’re not sorry for coming home to me like this?” he bites out. There’s not a trace of laughter in the tight lines of his mouth—for James can’t find these stupid jobs amusing any more. He makes enough, God knows he makes more than enough, for you to leave this cursed work behind and just stay by his side. 

“Um,” you murmur, and he can practically hear the cogs in your brain whirring as you wonder why he’s not mentioning the deep smears of crimson that assault his outfit. “I can change before coming in—”

“Stop.” He interrupts you with his tight grip on your body and the concerned, devoted glint in his softening eyes. “Can’t you worry about yourself for once?”

His job is harsh within itself: volatility and high-pressure wrapped in one, but the things you do for money are downright punitive. It’s paradoxically comical: a man who’s stained his hands with blood far darker and deeper than you have, versus a pseudo-vigilante whose life revolves around violence. Diego Kang, or more accurately, James Lee conceals his past as though it were a separate entity: while still keeping the dregs of yesteryear with him in the form of you.

No, that’s not right. He doesn’t keep you by him. He’s bound to you instead, he realises through his adoring gaze and tender hands, through the reverent kisses he presses to your glacial arms. 

You still as his fingers card through your skin: past the fragile, wounded dermis; weaving through the sinuous muscles, and past the tangles of veins; and finally, they hold tight on the steady thrum of your pulse. You’re alive. You’re alive and breathing, and your heart is still beating through all those layers. 

Only then does he gaze up at you. None of his past ghosts through his look: neither boredom nor the callous indifference he once regarded you with. He’s been destroyed and reborn anew within these three years, while you still remain the painfully reckless fool. 

He’s no longer James Lee.

No, there’s not a single trace left of the boy who once saw your endless struggle as entertaining: save maybe the part of him that’s always been enraptured by your existence.  

゜・

EXTRAS

DG: …

reader: yeah I beat up those haters who were harassing you on twitter

DG: …

DG: without me 🥺

[dood-itsradical]

[locomoqo]

hello!! i love your writing <3 may i request a red hair era james lee x reader nsfw? perhaps a highschool rival romance? the idea’s been eating at my brain nonstop and askjdghdfak it’s so good and i think you’d do it justice

fine line

— james lee x reader

details: NSFW under the cut, fem bodied reader, fingering, teasing, edging, public (?) sex, james is a teasing asshole

A/N: i hope i got it right huhu, enjoyyy!! <33

In the dimly lit corners of the school library, you and James sat next to each other, pretending to study. The air between you two was tense, though not for the reasons anyone might assume. To the casual observer, it seemed like another academic showdown—two rivals buried in textbooks, locked in the usual battle of who could outsmart the other. But beneath the surface, something much more dangerous was at play.

What had started as a harmless competition had evolved into late-night study sessions, lingering glances, and stolen touches. You’d both been walking a fine line for weeks now. It began with innocent bets on who would be distracted first, spiraling into a silent game of seeing who could push the other further without breaking. Each challenge, each daring touch, made it harder to remember where the line had once been.

James sat next to you, his eyes scanning his textbook while you fidgeted with your pen. But under the table, his hand rested not-so-innocently on your knee. The game had begun again.

You shot him a side glance, raising an eyebrow. He met your gaze with a smirk, as if daring you to react. His fingers, light and casual at first, slowly began to move upward. It was subtle, but it was enough to make you aware of every inch between his hand and the growing heat between your thighs.

“Focus,” he whispered, his voice low but teasing, never glancing up from his book. “You’re here to study, remember?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure. “I am focused,” you replied, though your voice was weaker than you’d hoped, betraying the flutter in your stomach. “Besides, isn’t it supposed to be ‘we’?” you add. His fingers inched higher, resting just above your knee now, and your breath caught in your throat. You cast a quick glance around the library, relieved that no one seemed to notice the tension between you and James.

“Schematic differences,” he murmured, his hand creeping farther up your thigh. His touch was feather-light, teasing, but it was impossible to ignore the growing tension in your body. You shifted in your seat, fighting the rush of heat spreading through you. 

You weren’t going to lose—not to him, not like this. You straightened your back, pretending to focus on the textbook in front of you, though the words blurred together. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” you muttered, trying to sound more composed than you felt.

James chuckled softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You talk a big game, but we both know you’re not going to stop me.”

His hand slid farther up your thigh, dangerously close to the point that made your breath hitch. You squeezed your legs together, but not enough to stop him.

Your heart raced, the challenge clear between you. How far could you let this go? How long could you pretend to be indifferent before you broke? Your fingers gripped the edge of the table, nails digging into the wood as James’ fingers ventured higher, just inches from the point of no return.

“You’re awfully confident,” you breathed, your voice barely audible. “But you forget, I’m stubborn.”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower, a darker edge creeping into his tone, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then prove it.”

His fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, so close that it made your entire body tense. You wanted to push him away, to stop the game before you lost control—but you didn’t. You liked this—the rush, the thrill of being so close to breaking the unspoken rules between you two, and the challenge of seeing who would crack first.

His hand stilled, fingers hovering just beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing teasingly against your clothed core. He finally looked up from his book, meeting your gaze with those piercing eyes that always made your heart skip. His expression dared you to stop him.

You should stop him. Instead, your hand drifted under the table, fingers grazing his wrist—not to push him away, but to hold him there. A smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned forward slightly.

“You’re terrible at this game,” you whispered, your voice laced with challenge.

James grinned, leaning forward until your faces were inches apart. His fingers pressed harder against your core. “Am I?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. His hand remained, his fingers hovering just where you wanted them, the heat between you two intensifying. “I think I’m winning,” he added softly, his gaze flickering to your lips. “You’re practically dripping.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers moved, rubbing the tips of his fingers against you through your panties. You bit down on your lip to stifle the gasp that nearly escaped, trying to focus on the book in front of you. “You’re getting cocky,” you muttered, eyes fluttering shut for a second as his touch sent shivers down your spine.

“Maybe,” he hummed, his tone smug, “but I don’t think you’ll be able to get one over on me this time.” His fingers pressed against you harder, his thumb pushing your panties to the side. You clenched your jaw, legs instinctively squeezing together, but James spread his hand out to prevent you from closing your legs entirely. “Focus now,” he teased, sliding his fingers between your folds.

“I wasn’t distracted,” you breathed out, brows furrowing as the heat built inside you. The words on the page became nothing more than a blur, your hand shakily writing nonsense across your notes. “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he whispered, slipping a finger inside you. Your breath caught, and your hand tightened around his sleeve, your body betraying you as you tried to keep quiet.

“Want me to stop?” His breath brushed against your ear, his voice sending a jolt through you. You should nod, should tell him to stop, but instead, you shook your head. His grin widened as he slipped in another finger, curling them inside you. You almost jolted in place, only barely managing to offer an apologetic smile to the people who glanced your way.

James’ grin didn’t waver as he continued, keeping a steady rhythm between your legs. The slick squelching sound of his fingers moving inside you was embarrassing, but you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, your breath shaky with each exhale.

When your walls tightened around his fingers, a sign that you were teetering on the edge of release, James suddenly pulled his hand away, leaving you empty and frustrated. You shot him a glare, but he just shrugged and licked his fingers clean with a wicked grin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, leaning back. “We’re supposed to be studying, aren’t we?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, now it’s we? Fine. I’ll just have to beat you at this game next time.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism: "No thank you! I have a partner!"

Silly. G/N. Y'all probably seen the meme. Your partner comes home drunk and doesn't recognise you. Masterlists

Gun Park, Ryuhei Kuroda, Goo Kim, DG, Vin Jin, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo

Loud scratching and thumps at your front door wakes you. You wonder whether to arm yourself with a frying pan and then you hear your boyfriend muttering slurred profanities.

A loud bang reverberates through your home as he stumbles, drunk, through the door.

With a sigh, you crawl out of bed to check the state they're in.

Gun gazes at you, bleary-eyed and half focused. Slightly swaying on his feet, a very unusual sight of someone usually in full control of their body.

Then something clicks in his brain, eyes hardening just before he looks away. He tells you, tone disinterested, that he's a taken man.

"I don't know how I ended up here, but don't get the wrong idea."

He turns around, exits his own living room, exits his own home, and sleeps outside the apartment in the hallway instead.

.

.

"Yeah you're pretty cute," Ryuhei mumbles, words slurring together, "But my partner is cuter."

He pulls his phone out, drops it twice, unlocks it on the third attempt and shows you a picture - one that you have seen, actually one that you took of him smooching you on the cheek.

"Aren't they cute?" He beams, utterly besotted. "Let me just crash here," he says as he collapses on the sofa. "If you touch me I'll scream."

.

.

"Get your hands off me!" Goo screeches, slapping you away as you try to undress him and get him ready for bed. "My my, you're forward aren't you?"

Goo leans forward and gives you a smile halfway between utterly charming and complete sleazeball.

Then, all bravado evaporates and he sighs.

"Oh sweetheart you would be just my type, but," he pushes you off the bed, "I'm taken and very happy about it."

He lies down, burritoing himself and turning his back to you. "You can make your own way out."

.

.

Vin fiddles with his sunglasses, peering approvingly at you.

Even in his drunken haze he can tell that damn, you're fine. Except. He is also lucid enough to realise he is not looking respectfully anymore and he thinks of you, his ride or die, and his face completely changes.

He frowns and asks you what the hell you are looking at. That you have no chance. He has a partner at home that is much hotter, much better, thank you very much and yeah he's an asshole but he's not going to cheat so back the fuck off.

You roll your eyes, hackles would have been much higher if he wasn't actually being sweet in his own way.

.

.

DG takes a moment to process the situation. And when he does, he gets it completely wrong.

He plasters on his k-pop smile. The one reserved for winning over fans, interviewers and for his insincere apology videos.

"Did you want an autograph?" He pulls out a photocard from his inner pocket and a pen (and wow, you did not realise he carried a stack of his photos. You are not going to let him live this down) and scribbles his signature that comes with some love hearts and sparkles and passes it over to you.

"Here you go," he holds it out to you in both hands, not before mumbling under his breath, "You're cute but shit if you turn into another stalker..."

.

.

Jake is already asleep on the sofa by the time you pad out, which must be some super power in itself.

"Wake up," You give his shoulder a shake. He frowns, then cracks one eye open. "Come to bed."

He grunts something indecipherable and attempts to roll his oversized frame on your undersized sofa.

"Jake, cmon."

You start to drag him to your bedroom, your touch finally waking something inside and he bolts upright, removing your hands firmly off him.

"I have a partner." He tells you with no room for any misinterpretation. "But," he scratches absentmindedly at his stomach, "Do you have any food?"

.

.

Samuel does as he's told. Obediently removing his trousers, and unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off-

(Truly, you had no ulterior motive, you just wanted to remove the stink of alcohol.)

When, maybe for the first time in his life, he is afflicted with modesty and a startling clarity.

He yanks his shirt back on and pulls his trousers on with surprisingly sober efficiency.

"Absolutely not," he glowers at you, "This is not happening. I'm taken."

[jamesleecult]

James lee x gn!reader : In case you come back one day.

The reader rants about their past relationships experience on a song comment section they recently listened to.

note: James kinda ooc(?), attempted to angst. I was planning to make it like the reader view, like their feelings then what happened(flashback or smthg idk) but I’m lazy. Not proof read, I’m bad. Reader kinda still hung up, if you squint enough I’m kinda listening to a sad song rn. Bold font for the typing and the italicized for flashback. (Plottwist dg wrote the song and saw the comment lol) with the help of Grammarly.

During the midnight hour, their finger danced across the keyboard, each keystroke echoing in the quiet room. Blending with the faint whirr of the glowing screen with melody’s in the background.

The sounds of the faint tapping on the keys stopped, few moments later - a sound of clicking can be heard as they began to typed again.

I've met it fresh and hot, it was years ago, yet it felt like yesterday. Actually, I've been walking so far that I can start again with someone else, but in my heart I secretly ask a question. Do I really still have a spot left for him?

In their distant and hazy memories, They shared soft whispers and laughter, the gentle breeze carrying their words like secrets through the air. With each stolen glance and faint smiles.

Or always ask myself that do I love the person in front of me equally to that person. Until now.

In the dimly lit ambiance of their favorite spot, he sat across from them- on the side, his demeanor cool and composed, concealing the turmoil within. They sensed a distance growing, a chill settling in the air.

“We need to talk,” he began, his voice steady, devoid of emotion, easily making their pulse quickened, a knot forming in the stomach.

"I met a lot of people, but in the end, no one can replace you." Right into the hook. I realized, I didn't intend to hurt the person infront of me.

“What’s wrong?”

I just want myself to try and start again, but now I understand that.

“This,” the red haired boy, he gestured subtly between them, “isn’t working anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

I did never stop loving or stop missing him at all.

Confusion etched across their face, so many questions left unanswered. He met their gaze, his eyes holding a depth they couldn’t fathom.

“I’m leaving.”

I wanna say something in case, even if I never get the chance to tell him.

“Leaving? Why?” Panic rising within them making their heart skipped a beat.

“I can’t stay,” the tall boy stated firmly, his tone unwavering. “It’s not safe for you.”

They searched his eyes for answers, finding only resolve. “Not safe? What are you talking about?—That’s not true. We love each other. We can work through whatever it is!”

I got so many questions that was never answered, you left with no room for me to ask further more. What’s happening? Did I do something wrong?

As they spoke, he looked away, sighing at their persistence. Unable to meet their gaze. “No, you don’t understand. I’m.. I’m dangerous.”

Their brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. “What do you mean, dangerous?”

“I can’t explain” he said, his voice barely a whisper in disappointment. “But you need to trust me. You need to let me go.. there are things you don’t know about me. Things that could put you in danger if I stay.”

Their mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. “But I don’t understand. We are together, we love each other- why are you leaving me with just.. short explanations?”

Then you just disappeared for no reason. I couldn’t find you, as if you were gone.

“…farewell.”

And with that he just walked away, coldly stood up- leaving them sitting there, alone with nothing but unanswered questions and a heart heavy with sorrow.

I still have a spot left for you in my feelings, always will be the one for you, In case you come back one day.

After hours of uninterrupted typing, they finally halted, their hands hovering over the keyboard as they took a moment to gather their thoughts. Pressing the final key—

The soft click of the laptop lid echoing in the now silent room.

[koiiiji]

life action lee jihoon

[person25]

So…does DG act like a regular kpop idol? Like, does he make those tiktok videos dancing to his song with other kpop idols to promote?

Imagine seeing the guy who beat the shit out of you doing aeygo. My pride would be in hell, never to be seen again.

imagine being his s/o and watching act all sweet on tv and he comes home with his real personality💀

ALSO i need to know what kind of music he makes bc i NEED to see him singing and dancing Rover (by KAI)

I need an in depth abt his idol life right now.