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jedisupernova · 2 months ago

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married life with kwon jiyong

notes minors dni contains fem aged up reader (same age as jiyong), reader has a normal job, always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but anyone can read, slice of life, tooth rotting fluff, gentle love, suggestiveness, playful bickering and banter, mentions of drinking and smoking, smut (in the morning, oral f and m receiving, primarily sub!jiyong though it can switch), some angst (mentions of hardships and arguments, allusions to his hiatus and your struggles of being with a public figure,) overall just him being one of the keys to my heart, and inevitable typos.

requested? no because i can't be normal about anything! and i want this man so bad! this is my first time writing for jiyong; please be kind. this one is long. i really liked writing this, i hope you enjoy :)

life outside of your shared apartment is very busy, at times chaotic, and noisy. your husband and you live very different lives, and have done so since you started dating twelve years ago; him being a renowned musician, respected artist and performer, and a highly in demand global celebrity both on stage and at fashion week. you, on the other hand, worked as an executive assistant at a firm in the city for almost as long as you've been with jiyong. it came with its own stresses and discrepancies, as any job does. but when you two are home, all that matters are your wedding bands, feeding the cats, and snuggling so close on the couch that your body temperatures become one.

the love you share is at an atomic level. it doesn't manifest in finishing each other's sentences, per se, but more so jiyong knows whether you want coffee or tea that morning simply from how deep your frown is when waddling out of the bathroom. you can tell when a cold is creeping up on him simply from the sound his nostrils make upon an inhale, leaving him a steaming mug of ginger tea on his bedside table for him to drink before sleeping. if your hands are busy, he'll clip your earrings on for you. jiyong cleans your reading glasses every morning without fail, no matter how late either of you are—in the middle of his morning smoke, whilst you're in the shower, or when the coffee pot is brewing. or when you're running really late, hastily collecting your keys and trying to finish your toast, he squats down, shoe in one hand and your ankle in the other, saying "put your foot in," sliding your shoes on for you. you give him your hand without thinking when his fingers become restless. you pull him into your arms when he's being more quiet than usual. his hand will reach over to your cheek, thumb gently rubbing in a sheer streak of sunscreen that wasn't blended all the way before planting a kiss on the same spot. when he calls you, depending on the time of day, it's either to get lunch together or an attempt to get you to call off work early ("i'll tell my boss the same excuse as you if you do it too, honey." "jiyongie, cut it out. i'm late for a meeting. you're your own boss, anyway." "i married a smart one, hm?"), or how heavy his steps were when walking gave hint to how tired he was that day. you were the other's second nature—a soul meshed; equation solved.

jiyong initially fell for how unapologetic you are. who would've thought on your third date with the utmost famous kpop idol, that you'd be rapping his part in 'we belong together' to him at a random noraebang in gangnam at one in the morning? you remember thinking you couldn't believe you made it this far with him, so you just decided to do whatever—to see what happens, but also alleviate nerves, primarily. albeit you mumbled through a third of it and your hiccups from the soju you shared echoed loudly into the microphone—but you charmed the fuck out of him. he hadn't laughed that hard in a long while, and his flustered state followed him all the way home and into calling you the next day. it trickled into your relationship as it became more serious and into marriage: you were never afraid to tell him an accessory didn't go with an outfit (which has caused some petty arguments), not act like you liked a track when you didn't, or let him think he landed a joke well on a variety show (he always did, though. you just teased him so you could squish his cheeks from how deeply he pouted.) your honesty was refreshing, considering how easy it was to be surrounded by yes-men in the industry he's in.

jiyong showed his love in front of his staff, too. it wasn't only apparent in your holding of his hand in your lap during car rides, or his hand on your lower back as he showed you around sets for his music videos, but just how he visibly brightened at the sight of his wife. even in the midst of a contentious conversation with his team over creative direction, you sucked him out it just by walking into the room. that smile, the glow on his face—it was damning. better yet, you joined in too, unable to ignore the frustrated furrow of his eyebrows. some staffers couldn't help but gossip on their lunch breaks sometimes, saying in those meetings it felt like they were sat with the co-presidents of a company, or giggle over how they overheard you planting rather loud kisses on your husband's face, talking sweetly when you thought you two were alone and out of earshot ("you're my baby—my sweetheart." you kissed his cheek, soon landing on his lips with his makeshift pout from your holding of his face. "i am." he hummed, puckering his lips. "i'm your big baby."—"that's the same man who was growling into the mic the first day i met him?" said one assistant to another over lunch. "no, it makes sense," she countered with the shake of her head after taking a sip of her drink. "he's also the same guy who wrote 'good boy.'"

he does not go to sleep without you. jiyong makes due when he's overseas, albeit begrudgingly and does not let you hang up the facetime call when you both fall asleep. when you're both home, he gets up off the couch and takes your hand, tugging it. "come to bed. it's almost eleven." he said, pulling your arm. "i'm in the middle of my show, my love." you respond, pulling him back towards you. "i'll give you my ipad. now, c'mon." "fine, fine." you give in, pressing the power button on the remote before getting up. his free hand held your jaw, squishing your cheeks together and pouting your lips, placing a playful kiss. "thank you, my baby." he muttered. "yeah, yeah," you said before his lips returned to yours. "it better be charged." and it was, perched in your lap, finishing your episode with his airpods, too, jiyong snoring quietly beside you, having fallen asleep with his hand atop yours over the duvet.

when he comes home after extra exhausting days at work—especially if it was comeback prep, a studio session, a music video or performance filming day that began early that morning—he's very mumbly. upper half of his face hidden under a thick beanie, placing a lazy peck on your cheek as a greeting, shuffling to the shower, and plopping down almost cartoonishly at the dining table with a huff. you bring him a bowl of steaming leftovers from your cooking like clockwork. before you turn around to go get white wine for the both of you, jiyong takes your hand in his, pressing kisses onto your soft skin; a wordless thank you. you brush back his hair with your fingers, kissing his forehead. "i love you too." you say. "eat well, hm?"

you retrieve the previously opened bottle of white wine from one of the kitchen cabinets, carrying two glasses in your other hand. you pour the same amount for him and yourself, cheersing wordlessly before taking a drink. it was then that you saw jiyong still had a colored lens on—his left eye his natural brown, the right an unnatural pale grey, looking at you like an inverted mangekyo sharingan since the pupils weren't completely aligned—and thought to yourself oh! ... must've been a really long day, then.

he plans birthday and anniversary gifts months in advance. early in your relationship, he gifted very often, until he had no choice but to dial it down at your request. you lived in a small studio apartment until you moved in with him a year before he proposed, and there was only so much room for gifts varying from weekly flower bouquets (your personal favorite, even if it meant your kitchen counter and coffee table were virtually unusable with vases filled with daises, roses, and carnations), cartier bracelets ("do i look like someone who has somewhere to wear this to?" "yes, you do. on our trip to jeju next weekend and every single date after that."), or a first edition print of a book you love ("you spend too much money on me." "i would open my own bank just to take care of you.") even so, jiyong still has his ways—a new perfume on your vanity on the anniversary of his asking to be your boyfriend; a weekend getaway for your birthday; restocking your skincare whenever he walks in on you screwing the cap off your moisturizer to get the last bits of it; a mini tin of chocolate truffles paired with a loving handwritten note he always leaves on your bedside table before he travels overseas, even if you see him off to the airport.

wedding anniversaries are mainly spent at home. you've traveled elsewhere for the occasion before, but as you got older, cooking a warm meal together, opening a bottle of champagne, cutting expensive tiramisu cake, and sharing kisses on the couch sufficed more than enough. some anniversaries are tipsier than others, featuring either a comedically inebriated attempt of recreating your wedding dance ("and then i spun you around—" "no, you dipped me, jiyong." "hey! you don't think i know what happened at my own wedding?" "i was there, too! and you dipped me!") whilst the cats meow in protest of the noise, or going down a youtube rabbit hole and him begging you not to put on the bigbang secret garden parody in the recommended ("but it's my favorite thing you've ever done!" "stop lying, i know you like zutter the most!"), or the tradition of him playing 'HoneyBaeGirl,' a short song he wrote—and many since then—about you after becoming official all those years ago ("'girl, you make my pen fly off my paper, but not as fast as the stork that'll carry our baby' ... you really liked me that much?" "you say this every year, and i always tell you that i started looking at rings before our six months.")

however, without fail, every year jiyong is the last to fall asleep on the night of your anniversary. your upper half atop his, legs entangled underneath the fluffy duvet, his arms wrapped around your back, hands holding your head to his chest; two tall glasses once filled with water on his nightside table, downed before bed in an effort to thwart a possible hangover the next day. it's the feeling of his fingers combing your hair back that lulls you to sleep, along with the intermittent flutter of kisses to your forehead, and the vibrations of his chuckles against your ear when you mumbled something tiredly. "i love you so much, honey. thank you for another year." he spoke quietly. "i love you too," you muttered, slumber heavy in your senses. "let's do a millennia." he grinned. "let's do it."

when you fall asleep, his palm rests along your jaw, thumb tracing the supple skin of your cheekbone back and forth. his eyes would watch the rise and fall of your chest against his, or peer down at your face. so blissfully asleep, so easily beautiful. no matter how late at night, or how much liquor he drank, as if on cue, his mind shuffled through memories in a scattered sequence—the first time you spoke on the phone so long that the early morning sun caught him off guard; the coordinated efforts to see you in private; when your relationship leaked anyway during your two year anniversary trip (whilst you were still actively on it); when you were defiant upon his suggesting to break up to protect you ("why should i compromise for people who live in a false reality?"); hundreds of hours spent in the studio when dates felt impossible with his schedule, to you ultimately getting fed up and just meeting him where he was, leading to endless recordings he's kept on his laptop of you haphazardly attempting to rap to a beat he's made or sampling you in songs that stay between the two of you; his proposal, and both of yours blubbering tears ("c-can i—will you—" "—y-yes! oh my god, yes!" "i have to finish the question—oh my god, i can't breath through my own tears—c'mere, i'll wipe yours."); or one night on your four year wedding anniversary trip when you two were at polar opposite ends of the hotel lobby after a particularly rowdy night at the club together following a romantic dinner, both equally drunk if not you rivaling him—jiyong sat in a cushioned chair, on the phone with either an assistant, producer, or his financial advisor. you didn't know, nor the third rum and coke looming in your system hadn't made you care all that much. you were too busy trying to keep your eyes open to not out your deep inebriation to the poor concierge working the overnight shift whilst jiyong spoke quietly albeit with a finger in his other ear as if he was still in the club.

it was his recollection of this next part that always made jiyong grin to himself, the vibrations of his chuckle against your ear resulting in your satisfied yet meek hum amidst your slumber: "could you—would you be able to bring more towels to suite 403?" you asked politely, attempting irrationally to thwart the continued slurring of your words by straightening your posture. "it should be under the name . . . " your eyes went wide. "oh my goodness, what's my name?" you looked around worriedly, catching your shaky balance by gripping the counter, unable to believe that you were so far gone that your surname temporarily slipped from your consciousness. the concierge tried to get your attention saying she knew who you were as she was the person who checked you in a few days ago, but your fingers tapped your lips anxiously, seeing jiyong get up from his seat and walk over. "ji . .. jiyong—" you tried to call him over, but it felt like your voice couldn't go above a certain point. you turned back to the concierge, blurting the first thing that came to mind: "dragon. try dragon." you pointed to the computer, irrational worry knotted between your eyebrows. then your heart dropped for an entirely different reason: "i just compromised our safety." "what?" jiyong giggled beside you, hand finding your hip. "i leave you alone for two minutes and you're talking like you're in a bond film." you quickly leaned towards his ear, making yourself dizzy in the process. "i just told them you're g-dragon." you whispered frantically. he couldn't hold in his laughter, finding the ordeal amusing. the look on your face wasn't any better. he was pocketing this memory forever."that's fine, my love. they know—" "—i told them i'm mrs. dragon!" you whispered. "well, for one: you are." he shrugged his shoulders, hiccuping in the middle of his colorful laughter. "and two: its fine," jiyong assured, taking your hand. its good that we're leaving tomorrow, though. his inner monologue percolated at the back of his head. "let's head to our room. we're gonna feel this in the morning."

speaking of mornings: they're sacred in your household. historically, jiyong's the first to wake. but he doesn't get up until a while later, often silently coexisting with your sleeping form. call it two lost souls finding each other in this life, mere coincidence, or whatever it may be, but you wake up no more than a half hour after him—jiyong's ears perking up at the sound of your all-too-familiar, prolonged hmph. he scoots over, duvet rustling as his body molds against yours, lips finding that spot on your temple. you respond with the gradual wrapping of your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer, warmth doubling. "good morning." he mumbled lowly, satisfied with your barely passing verbal response of another hmph. after a while, you nudge him off, feeling sweat start to build. "m'boiling." "you're s'mean." jiyong protested weakly, but obliged, moving back lazily to his side of the bed. like clockwork, jiyong felt a tug at the collar of his shirt, or hand on his shoulder if he slept without one some moments later, beckoning him when you were more awake, voice coherent. "come back here." "i thought i almost killed you." "stop being dramatic. its barely seven in the morning." "you made me this way." "fine. then i'll take the car myself to work." it took a moment, but jiyong turned back to you, huffing with an air of faux stubbornness upon your lips finding his cheek. "you know i always take to you to work." jiyong muttered into your neck. "its non-negotiable." you adjusted your position, relieving your back and allowing him to lay more comfortably between your legs, warmth of your thighs snuggling against his waist. "anything's on the table if you act stupid enough." "i don't have the brainpower for a witty comeback." "be quiet and let me hold you, then."

you were devastatingly beautiful in the mornings. one peek into your brain and jiyong knew you would think your dry lips, oily t-zone, shorts that rode up your ass comedically and uncomfortably, and sleep lines running across your cheek and arm after a restful night of sleep wasn't exactly the sight—but you were wrong; you were a sight to behold. jiyong's held that sense of awe from the first time you fell asleep beside him on one of your first movie nights as twenty-something-year-olds—never forgetting what it felt like to internalize the sound of your softened breaths, or your head dropping to his shoulder. to have your trust whilst you were in such a vulnerable state tugged at his tear ducts, despite his failed argument of "its because we were watching 'little miss sunshine' that i got so worked up," only to be pulled into your arms upon your catching sight of his increasingly glossy eyes, adorning his face with kisses.

it was the same sensation today as he opened his eyes, thumb tracing the wrinkles of your bottom lip before settling in the temporary divot of your cheek casted by your pillow; waist welcoming the subtle grip of those thick thighs that bestow upon him both heavenly pleasures and a sense of home; fingers fluttering past your rolls for his palm to grip the side of your right thigh, feeling the plushness of your skin nurtured by moisturizer and body oil applied the night before, humming in content at the soft prickle of body hair against his palm; hand sneaking past the bottom hem of your shorts, thumb kneading the powdery plushness of your ass, earning him a shaky breath as his lips peppered kisses onto your neck. jiyong slowly trailed down your chest, propping himself up with his free elbow, pulling your cami down enough to expose your right breast. he relished in your scent, basking in the lingering luxurious vanilla as his lips encircled your areola before taking it entirely in his mouth. he suckled with intent, lapping your hardening peak with his eyes closed. if he didn't think about it, he'd lull himself to sleep. it's happened before.

you brought his free hand to your lips, pressing kisses onto his fingertips until you cut yourself off with a small moan, looking down at your husband completely lost in you. the sun had barely began to rise, but here you two were, clearing either of your senses of slumber with your concurrent libidos—like you weren't a day past twenty-four; going at it in a company car before he walked into the practice room with an unmatched aura and graphic tee on inside out, hair tousled. "make it quick," you whispered, bottom lip caught between your teeth when his hand kneaded your left breast. "have to get up in fifteen minutes." "got it." he murmured. jiyong worked quickly, shoving his pants below his knees whilst you pull your shorts down enough to let him in with ease. it was a picturesque way to start your day: holding onto your husband's shoulders as he worked his hips into yours, listening to his quick pants since he's historically ignored the fact that he's more sensitive in the mornings as to not keep himself from making love to the pussy god herself carved for and bestowed upon him all those years ago—every squeeze a blessing; squirm fruitful bounty; utterance of your name a prayer.

jiyong sounded so frail in your ear, begging for mercy from something he started. "s-shit—f-fuck—slow d-down—" he said to no one but himself, voice falling into a mewl, breathing heavily. "how do you—how do you still feel so g-good after all this time? huh?" he's felt you unabashedly raw for years, but some part of him will always be left in awe—where does he begin? jiyong already sees the pearly gates when the skeleton of his name is whispered meekly through your teeth, let alone how it seems you mutually long for one another in your respective rem cycles, considering you slip so swiftly into one another—literally and metaphorically—mere minutes after you've woken up. its not that odd or rather dubious cliché of "feeling young again" or whatever the fuck—its the familiarity of someone that keeps you sane and drives you crazy all the same. and how your muscle memory serves you right even in a state of slight deliriousness, wrapping your legs as best you can around his waist as his heavy balls plop against the bottom of your ass . . . it was beyond jiyong how he wasn't a father of five yet.

"mmf! fuck! t-taking it s-so well—so e-early in the m-morning, too." "w-wouldn't want it any other—o-oh my god, just like that! just like that!" you grabbed at the back of his shoulders, chest pushing into his, your back arching. "harder, jiyongie. h-harder." the look on your face was his motivation to keep going despite his increasingly blurry vision and mounting pressure on his knees from being in the same position. there it was—the face he strived to make music to encapsulate; etched in his memory so many times, but when he sees it, its like he's never seen it before; if someone showed twenty-year-old him a photo of you and told him you were going to be his wife, he'd need a defibrillator. "f-fuck! h—h-haa!" he whimpered faintly, eyebrows contorted upward, hearing the bed creak as he rammed into you. you were in a state of bliss: hair messy, dried drop of drool in the corner of your mouth, toes curling into the linen, sleepies in the corners of your eyes—stretched out by the love of your life at 7:15 in the morning. you weren't particularly religious, but perhaps this is what being god's favorite feels like.

he's a pussy eater to his core. you spent months stuffing your face into your pillow so your roommates wouldn't overhear at three in the morning; jiyong put a chair to the door when you came by promptly before he was due to work with the company producers that day, making way for you two to become masters at hiding what went down less than an hour before on the same couch his boss was now sitting on; your honeymoon reeked of it—and he's a devout enjoyer to this day. the night you sat on his face for the first time, he booked a studio afterwards whilst you slept peacefully next to him on your full size bed—saying some of the raunchiest shit he's ever thought of into that microphone when no one was around. only to play it for you the next night he was over at your apartment, physically feeling his soul achieve completion when you mounted his face again, disappearing between your thighs; seeing double when you rode his cock like it was your last night alive. it was also a rare night where all of your roommates were out—you didn't take that opportunity lightly. or gently. or timidly, really.

his gaze lingers on you in the kitchen the weekends you have off, stealing glances whilst you tried to make something out of the leftovers from the fridge for lunch; growing sick of ordering in all the time. jiyong's attention had long strayed from whatever was playing on the television, fingers toying with the press-on that was half-on half-off his middle finger, eyes barely diverting from you—relaxed in a cami and shorts, stomach peeking over the top hem, your cellulite and curvature of your body illuminated by the streaks of sunlight pouring in from the balcony window—even when one of the cat's dotingly rubbed against his leg when walking past. he got up from the couch, making his way over. he initially made his presence known with his palm tracing your hips, following the curvature of your ass before his chin settled on your shoulder. it was normal—nothing to be picked up on; a gesture you love so tenderly. in fact, you were the one who turned your head to look at him with a soft grin, leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss. it was the way jiyong reconnected it—slow and with a soft, stuttered hum—that you knew what was up.

"not now." you tutted. as if on cue, your stomach grumbled lowly. "m'hungry." "i am too." jiyong's palm rode up your stomach before nestling on your breast, kneading it slowly—another familiar touch, you just didn't have the patience for it right now. his other hand moved the strap of your cami on your other shoulder, letting it fall down your arm, pressing a kiss onto your skin. "you look s'good. can't help it. wanna taste." he muttered. "here, i'll get on the floor. just stay there." before he made his descent, you turned your head. "you're the one who told me his left knee's been giving him problems these last few days. has that suddenly disappeared?" he pouted. "i wanted to be sexy." you mimicked his pout, jutting your bottom lip. "midday on sunday when i'm trying to make us sandwiches out of more than tuna and leftover kimchi?" you quip. he leaned closer, rivaling your faux pout. "mhm," he closed the gap, kissing your cheek. "should've done it this morning when i had the chance. got too shy." you scoffed. "don't make me laugh," you said. "you're the same person who—what was it, again? the second?" you thought aloud; the memory clear in your head as confirmation. "oh, right. yeah—when you were called into the office the second time dispatch got those photos of us, and you told your boss you'd write a song about our 'tender love' to drive up album sales, since that's what he always talked about." jiyong shrugged his shoulders. "i gave him an in. but i am shy." "you can be. sometimes." "all the time." "sometimes." "all the time."

you adore his facial hair to the point of contemplating hiding his shaving kit. his hiatus, as it riddled him with questions of who he is and where he stands in the world, had its own unexpected pockets of unbridled humanity not tainted by the unforgiving eye of societal pressures. it showed in how jiyong texted you whilst you were at work when it became him being the one waiting for his spouse to come home—photos of the cats, what he made for lunch and planned on either making or ordering for dinner, and that he was going an episode back on the series you two were watching together because he didn't remember how a certain plot point progressed. this was especially prevalent during his military service: Don't worry, I'll remember where we left off

on those days he had his scruff—lining his upper lip and peppering his chin—you were unabashed. sure, in the first year or two when you started dating, it was shy glances and hiding your disappointment when he showed up to your apartment freshly-shaven before a comeback. jiyong may have been young, but he wasn't clueless. it was hard not to put the pieces together whenever it was always "one more kiss" when he left for the night, seeing your eyes flutter to his mouth before leaning in again; your back already arched when he trailed kisses down your inner thighs before eating you out, muffling your own moans behind your palm from how good his scruff felt against your skin. this was certainly the tipping point. you never forgot what his "let me hear you" sounded like—slightly demanding, but all the more knowing. it made you moan louder, unabashedly stuffing his face into your cunt with his tongue's every ministration.

the floodgates had opened with you knowing he knew; fucking him as he tried to fuck you from behind, embattling for power. jiyong tried to keep his composure—it was the hottest thing he's ever fucking seen—keeping his grip on your hips, grunting in the midst of your moans. it was the clapping of skin and watching your globes recoil after hitting his pelvis repeatedly that made him surrender his grip to the headboard to keep his balance. and your breathy fucking "jiyongie—j-jiyongie!" bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyebrows curled upward; elbows and knees set ablaze, stomach rubbing uncomfortably against the duvet, but it felt too good to stop. "f-feel so fucking good!" you cried, eyes rolling back hearing his whimper. "fuck me back. fuck me back—n-need it, baby. need it s'bad." jiyong slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, hearing you wince longingly at the loss of him filling you up. the condom was creamy and visibly wet. he moaned when he saw his cock twitch inside of you. "all—all this—hngh! f-fuck!" he gradually pushed back in, feeling your gummy walls welcome him like never before. "a-all this b-because of some facial hair, baby? yeah?" "y-yes!" you gasped, eyes squeezing shut when his hips showed no mercy. jiyong ate his own words when he came over a different night, telling you he was going to shave tomorrow, thinking he would be able to handle whatever came his way with a smug grin. he looked ghostly an hour later—spread eagle on your bed, hands lifeless on either side of your ass, only mustering enough strength to kiss you back to break it with his own pathetic whimper, begging for more.

now its sweet hums of satisfaction feeling his scruff when he gives you a kiss before work, tracing it with your fingers as he lulls himself to sleep, or admiring how beautiful he looks. don't get it twisted—those desires never went away. jiyong leads you to his lips with his tongue the nights he comes home from traveling abroad, kissing you in just the way you like, but also the way he knows you feel his four-day-old scruff against your skin. it earns him the chill of your engagement ring and wedding band on the back of his neck, reconnecting the kiss sensually but with a hint of hunger, tilting your head to deepen it. you broke the kiss to catch your breath, forehead landing on his as the water sloshed around you in the tub, his fingers fucking you underneath the rose-scented suds. "a little gentler, jiyongie." "m'sorry," he mumbled. "its okay—" "—just missed my love so much, is all." "missed you t-too." his lips cast a kiss on your shoulder before settling his forehead there, hearing your more satisfied breath when he altered his pace.

or a few days later, when he was trying so hard to watch the confession between the two leads of a series he's been waiting eighteen episodes to see with you, but just couldn't stop himself from shoving his dick deeper into your mouth. there you were, back of your head facing the television, laying comfortably on your side with your feet curled up on the bed, listening to the dialogue whilst sucking your husband's dick. you did it with bliss—like second nature, only opening your eyes to catch your breath and pump his hard cock coated with a mixture of his slick and your spit. he watched you with deeply furrowed eyebrows and his bottom lip begging for mercy—contrasting wildly with how casually he propped his head up with his elbow on his pillow. "f-fuck—a-agh!" he mewled, eyes squeezing shut as you did what he loved most, and may or may not have percolated at the back of his mind when he gifted you a lady dior bag for your birthday that year—sucking hard on his tip, then slowly letting go. the sound your cheeks made when un-hollowing was diabolical. twenty-five year old jiyong would want to somehow sneak that into a b-side, distorting the sound enough to pass it as part of the beat drop or something—anything; seamless to the listener, sinful to him. the idea still stood all these years later, but perhaps he would stick to just keeping it in the lyrics . . .

"hngh! oh my fucking—" jiyong's hand slipped into your hair without thinking, at your complete helm as he watched you take more than half of him into your mouth, sucking hard, before bobbing up and down normally. his voice was a noticeable octave higher—"like that, like that—k-keep—keep going!" "shut up," you muttered. you readjusted yourself on your elbow, feeling your neck begin to strain, his hand falling lifeless onto the bed. you let go of his dick, wiping the drool from the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, noticing how his cock barely moved from how hard it was. you started pumping him again, hearing him suck a breath through his teeth. "can't hear the tv. turn up the volume." "o-okay, honey—" jiyong gasped when he returned to your mouth. "okay—f-fuck! oh, fuck—okay!" he reached with his non-dominant hand to the nightside table, aimlessly grabbing for the remote, knocking it to the floor in the process. the small crash made you nearly choke on his dick, popping off quickly in attempts to stifle your laughter behind your hand. "s'fine—s'fine. i got it—" he tried to reach down, but to no avail. "get back here," you beckoned, tugging at his shirt. "you've waited long enough."

this goes without saying, but you have everything you could ever need. from the moment he gave you his black card after a year of dating to use on anything you want, spending five minutes after that ensuring you that he was in the right state of mind ("why're you giving this to me? you barely know me." "what? you and i both know i know you enough to trust you.") to calling you that same week to tell you its okay to use it after seeing only two charges for coffee a few days apart ("i want to take care of you. you're the only one for me, you know that?" "you're crazy." "well, for you." "i set myself up for that one, didn't i?") to feeling utmost satisfaction seeing charges for household maintenance or paying for a movie night with your friends ("it felt rebellious to spend twenty dollars per ticket for five people with someone else's money." "i think you're the funniest person i know.")

you weren't exactly a public figure—jiyong made sure of that as much as he possibly could, as it was your wish—but that didn't mean you were completely or utterly unrecognizable. photos of existed out there of the two of you, either floated around by dispatch, or when your thank-you-for-attending cards containing your official wedding portrait leaked to the press—both with years in-between them. you went to concerts when you felt comfortable enough or could. he never pressured you to do something you didn't want to, but if he really wanted you to come (which was more often than not, if not all the time,) he'd find his ways: "there's going to be a fun rendition of crooked, and my hair will be styled the way you like." "jiyong, i already took my pto. i'm coming." "i love you so much."

in the years of his hiatus, there were several months that went by where everything felt fine, so you took public transit. it wasn't much or often, per se, only when jiyong felt too under the weather to drive you ("head down to the lot. i'll get the keys, baby." "you look ghostly. i'll leave ginger tea brewing on the stove before i leave."), wasn't home, or when he woke up feeling a little off, opting to stay in bed for a little while longer after giving you a tender kiss goodbye. if you looked out the window long enough during that fifteen minute commute, you suddenly felt like the twenty-one year old you once were that wasn't able to be on time for anything, let alone for classes. there were some days you would see the knowing glances from other passengers, or double takes a fool wouldn't notice. to your fortune, they either didn't say anything, or you sped to the escalator before they could.

one evening after work, however, you weren't headed home but out to dinner with a friend. several stops before your usual terminal, cutting down the usual fifteen minute ride to four—remember that. you rushed into the crowded train car before the doors closed, holding onto a nearby pole a small group of passengers around you gripped, fixing your hair that was messily tousled by the wind and securing your purse over your shoulder. in the midst of that, you caught sight of a prototype peaceminusone daisy pin, having forgotten you clipped it onto your blazer weeks ago after jiyong showed you the new collaboration he was working on. it was a moment that lasted mere seconds, the pin covered up by your purse strap after adjusting your posture, but it was enough for someone to see and make the connection after recognizing you. you hadn't realized someone was tailing you until you were outside of the restaurant. jiyong didn't let you go on public transit again for over a year, hiring an on-call chauffeur that same week.

private as you were, and as much the universe tested the both of you—you and jiyong had ways of finding humor amidst the turmoil. he's culturally ordained the king of kpop, yes, but also is equally deserving of the title of being-subtle-but-not-silent—exhibit a being the year when he showed up to paris fashion week with a strategically placed dark maroon-hued kiss mark in the divot of his collarbone, purposefully poking out of the collar of the chanel piece he was wearing. you did it in a rush in the bathroom of his hotel suite as he was running late; the idea coming to the both of you when you put the finishing touches on his outfit—a long-standing tradition usually administered through dusting something off his clothing, adjusting an accessory, or in this case, applying one. netizens ate each other alive—some saying it was what it clearly was, despite the angle of the photos and his clothing hiding a lot but not all, and others convincing themselves it was a birthmark not seen before that day, or a new tattoo. exhibit b being when you were spotted on a "rare public outing" (dispatch's words, not yours; you're no stranger to grocery runs) wearing a very obviously bootlegged g-dragon shirt—his face pixelated and off-center in the front, name separated by several spaces as opposed to a hyphen in the back; a gag gift from a friend a few christmases ago. he thought it was hilarious, sending you the photos himself: You look hot. The guy on your shirt not so much :)

it was a lovely surprise to see you in the crowd when bigbang returned to the stage at mama, stood in a closed-off section of the seating with members of his staff. the lip readers of the internet metaphorically rode off into the sunset after revealing to the world that you, indeed, said gleefully to his manager that you've known for years: "he looks so fucking good, oh my god!" and "i'm glad he went with that necklace!" whilst pointing at the stage—all before dancing and shouting the words back to him like it was your last night alive, of course. another staff member took a video and sent it to the group chat for him to watch in bed whilst you did your skincare in the en suite, tucked into his side, burying his face into his pillow as his face grew warmer.

to this day, he becomes so unexpectedly shy. that same night, for example, you had to use both hands to tug his shoulder to get him to look at you. even then, he still hid his face in his pillow, not having the gall to look at you or wipe that stupid smile off his face. your kisses to his warming cheek didn't help him, let alone your usual line: "you've made me see stars. now you don't want to see me?" you said by his ear, hand rubbing up his back tenderly, giggling upon hearing his muffled groan. "don't say that," he elongated the last syllable, arm slinging over your waist, fingers grazing the top of your ass. "you know i can't bear it." "mhm," you hummed, voice sounding akin to honey. "at least give me a goodnight kiss. i worked so hard cheering for you tonight, you know?" you smiled, hand now coming up to brush his hair back, ushering him to you. jiyong lifted his head, bringing his lips to yours. your hand held his cheek, kissing him back, lips separating slowly. "i love you." you whispered. "i love you more."

or when you two make lunch together, him washing and cutting the vegetables whilst you looked for the pan needed to sauté for the quick dish you decided to make that afternoon. you placed the pan on the stove, turning the correlating knob to ignite the fire underneath, drizzling it with olive oil whilst it began to heat up; an anecdote from work commentating everything. "thought i heard something about lay-offs. turns out, it was just that asshole co-worker that got laid over the weekend." jiyong's eyebrows raised, amused. "you heard that on your lunch break?" you gave him a look that deepened his upside down grin, shaking your head. "the shit i hear, my love," you tutted. "i'm surprised i'm not stuck in a state of perpetual grievance." he let out a laugh, his eyes kissing at the end. "you can be so funny, you know?" "can be?" you quipped, unable to hide your grin. "i thought it was the funniest person you knew, hm?" you tugged at this shirt, bringing his cheek to your lips.

your hand found his lower back, rubbing sweetly. "have you finished halving the tomatoes? i think the rice should be done by now." you thought aloud, peering over to the opposite end of the counter, seeing the steam pour out of the cooker. "mhm. almost." he murmured, feeling his neck and face warm. you turned to look at him, seeing the all-too-familiar avoidant gaze and awkwardly readjusting of his posture, topped off with a sharp inhale through his nostrils. you smiled knowingly, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking up at him. "did i blink and suddenly twenty-four year old jiyong showed up?" "stop it." he murmured, prolonging that last syllable. "you were so cute back then—" "—am i not cute now?" "hush. let me say my case." his face scrunched up with his smile, landing his forehead against yours. "we didn't know bullshit about anything. you were so keen to please. in more ways that one." he buried his face in your neck, making you laugh, skin hot against yours as your hands traveled up his back. "you're going to kill me." he muttered. "you know," you said to him. "there's not a boring day with you."

arguments aren't non-existent. when they occurred, you both knew each other well enough to take whatever course of action necessary: talking it out, or if things still felt too hot, taking a breather. you trusted each other to know things would mend, no matter if it was immediate or after some hours of silence. the only exception was if one happened before he had to travel for work—he squashed that shit like a bug. he learned that lesson the hard way in his mid-twenties, thinking he could hold out and carry a grudge to prove a point over some petty argument, only to fly home during the first two-day break on tour, knocking on your door when he knew you were home from work. jiyong couldn't live with it, being hundreds if not thousands of miles away from you, knowing something was pestering your mind, or hurt was ruminating somewhere inside you. no relationship is perfect, but he would be damned if he didn't at least try—especially through the ruckus you've endured from being with someone as famous as him. to jiyong, its the least he could do. he feels fortunate the universe led him to a spouse who wants to handle things with care as much as he does—to move mutually and maturely.

when he misses you, its palpable. whether it be when you leave the passenger's seat after he drops you off at work, or when you can't come with him to new york fashion week, he feels it. as do you. its never nice to wake up to an empty house, or an unfamiliar hotel room, but you make due. texts suffice as much as it can if you can't facetime, making you grin to yourself at your desk: Do you like it? he sent over a mirror selfie and staff-taken photos of him in a chanel ensemble he wore to a runway show in what was his afternoon and your early morning, hearting the one where he looked a little caught off guard. I do! Your hair color clashes with the outfit, though you typed back, stifling your laughter at his response ten minutes later: I'm not coming home. I'm laughing too much at my desk you're going to get me in trouble, you responded, only to have to put your hand over your mouth and muffle yourself. Stop laughing at my misery

jiyong texted you throughout the night for you to read in the morning: photos of his food, Here's the beer I paid way too much for, asking about the cats, and selfies of him in any state: one eye open with the other closed as his makeup artist does his eyeshadow; him pretending to smoke his lighter; one where nothing but his eyes and forehead are visible with the car window down halfway, a glimpse of the empire state building behind him with the accompanying Do you know where I am right now; I think we should have gotten married here; to the most recent I miss you a lot my baby. Call me when you wake up sent an hour ago. it was early morning for you and early evening for jiyong—you swiped right on his last message: Good morning from my side of the world; Are you at your hotel? Make sure you're outside in about 10 min. I'm going to have breakfast on the balcony, we can look at the same sky together

jiyong was out to dinner with his staff, excusing himself from the table when your texts came through. he stepped outside, your phone vibrating after you took your first bite of toast. he felt his sinuses loosen, his eyes misty at the sound of your voice on the other end of the line. it hadn't even been twelve hours since he last heard you, but he got worked up nonetheless: "hello? jiyong, can you hear me?" "yeah, honey. i can hear you," he nodded, blinking hard. "i have—i have the wifi. i'm outside. out to dinner." he swallowed. "what does the sky look like for you? its getting dark here. central park is across the street, and i think i see the moon over one of the trees." "hmm," you thought aloud, leaning to your left. "its early here. the sun hasn't come over the building yet. but the sky is clear. its nice today." "yeah?" he smiled, his vision blurry. "thats—thats good. i'm glad, honey." he nodded, looking down at the sidewalk pavement. "listen, uh . . . you need to stop being randomly poetic over text." "randomly poetic?" "like—like what you said about looking at the same sky, or something." his mind was scrambled. you heard him sniffle. "it hit me—it hit me a little hard."

"oh," your heart melted. "i'm . . . sorry?" you heard him laugh on the other side of the line, hiding your face behind your hand from no one. "its okay, honey. its okay." he assured with a stupidly big smile, despite you not being able to see. "i guess what i'm trying to say is, i don't know how i got so lucky." he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. "and my plane can't come fast enough, you know?" "i know." you nodded, looking down at the floor, corner of your lip caught between your teeth whilst your eyes watered. "you can't make me cry not even an hour after i wake up. you should pay a fine. or something." he let out a colorful laugh, not paying mind to the stares he got from passerbys. "thats fair." he said. "i have to finish breakfast and plate the cats' food. the car'll be coming in ten minutes." "you need to quit that damn job and spend all your time with me. i've been telling you for years now, baby."

you smirked to yourself, taking a bite of your toast. "listen, you keep crying over me like this," you said after taking a sip of water. "then maybe becoming a trophy wife is written in my fate." you joked, hearing him laugh. "i love you!" he exclaimed, smile evident in his voice. "i love you so fucking much, holy shit." "if you're still up by then, i'll call you during my lunch break." "oh, i'll be up. don't worry." he shook his head in reassurance, free hand on his hip. "i'll stay up for you. let me know when you get to work, okay? i love you." "i love you tenderly."

honey's taglist! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf, @infinetlyforgotten, @mesopotamism, @riddlerloveb0t, @pepsicolapussi

#kwon jiyong #gdragon #bigbang #kwon jiyong x reader #kwon jiyong imagine #gdragon imagine #gdragon x reader #bigbang imagine #bigbang smut #kwon jiyong smut #gdragon smut #kpop #g dragon x reader #g dragon #g dragon imagine #bigbang x reader #jiyong imagine #jiyong #jiyong smut

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saidrabbles · 5 months ago

Text

the way you are

pairing: kwon jiyong x idol! reader

summary: amidst crazy stalker threats, you receive an irresistible opportunity to collaborate with the one and only, g-dragon.

warnings: excessive stalking, threatening with weapons.

a/n: i’m always reluctant to write for jiyong, feeling like i won’t give it justice. but i’ve been wanting new jiyong fics heh

not proofread

breathe in, breathe out. that’s what you have been trying to do to regulate the overwhelming fear and stress from the last couple of months. you’ve had plenty of haters, critics and stalkers all up on your business, but not quite like this one. the stalker released personal information that almost cost you your house, as you stare at the plants that you’ve spent incredible attention so that they flourish. not only that, but he started threatening your life, posting photos of the weapons he will use on you.

which is why you’re currently laying on your bed, with countless guards all around your apartment, as well as the entry. what started as a two-week hiatus stretched into three months, as they still can’t pinpoint his location. your thoughts quiet down as the ringing becomes louder. it’s your manager. “hello? have you found him?” it was instinct at this point, asking about updates.

the person on the other side sighed, “no, but i received an interesting collaboration invite. i know that you can’t think about music at the moment, but i thought if i turn this one down without asking you, you’d come for my ass one day.” you were intrigued to say the least. “go on..”

“it’s g-dragon.” you jump up from your bed, your breath caught in your throat. “he’s making his comeback album, and he told us he would love to work with you, he’s a fan.” you feel your heart beat a little faster. you not only know about g-dragon, but you knew him as kwon jiyong too. you’ve met at several events, hitting it off as you found several shared interests. but he never asked for your number, nor did you.

you sat silently thinking about doing a collaboration with him, during this icky time where you don’t know how to go out without feeling hyper-aware of every eyeball pointed your way. but remembering his deep brown eyes got you agreeing. you missed singing, and you missed the presence of another human other than your bodyguards and manager. that’s all that it is, you tried reasoning with yourself.

~~~~

walking down to his studio, you felt nervous. there will be nothing between us, you breathed. you knocked, and almost immediately heard footsteps coming your way. he opened the door, his eyes meeting yours almost instantly. “hey.” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “hey” you smiled. he settled for a handshake, wanting to seem cool and casual. you felt vulnerable standing outside, and wanted to be engulfed with the safety of four walls as soon as possible. you couldn’t shake the uneasiness.

for the next few hours, thoughts of said stalker left you as you listened to his demo, discussed the essence of the song, which emotions he wanted the song to evoke. he was truly charming when he spoke with such passion. his eyes sparkled in a way that pulled you right into them, wanting to know the meaning behind some of the deeper sparkles in them. he has a habit of ruffling his hair or biting his thumb when he’s thinking, you thought to yourself.

the moment of admiration and peace came to a stop as your manager entered the studio with worried eyes. you knew. you excused yourself as you left the studio with her, feeling the overwhelming stress take over your senses. “he’s posted again. he was dumb enough to leave a big clue on where he is, but i’m not sure we’ll make it in time.” you felt yourself go numb. he’s on the run, he could be anywhere and you were not in the safety of your home. “hey” the brunette held you in place by the shoulders, “don’t worry. i’m here, you’re here and i will protect you no matter what.” she sighed “the safest place right now is in that studio” she left you frozen in place as your manager went to talk to the police.

after a few minutes, you regained your composure and went back in.

he could sense your change in demeanor, he could see it in the paleness of your once rosy cheeks, the lack of focus in your eyes. you sat in your chair, barely acknowledging the warm presence next to you. he stared at you for a few moments, trying to figure out what went wrong.

he was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard a clap. “okay, let’s do this!” you try to look at him, unable to hold eye contact, feeling like you would cry if you did. “i think i got the gist of what you want in the song, i want to start on the lyrics right away- “(y/n)” you stopped midway, but still refused to fully look at him, the plushies on his sofa look way more interesting than his intuitive eyes. “(y/n), please look at me.” he tried again.

you don’t know if it was the pleading or the softness of his voice that made you give in. you slowly look at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes. his brows knit together in a frown, looking like a worried puppy. you bring your shaking hands to your face, covering the tears threatening to fall. “i’m so tired” your voice was raw and shaky.

all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms, to kiss away your precious tears...but he wanted you to be comfortable in being vulnerable with him and didn't want to scare you off.

"i just.." your voice was betraying your stance of resilience. that's when you felt a hand caressing the top of your head, so softly that you'd almost not notice if you weren't closing your eyes trying to suppress your tears. "i’ve been stalked for a while now, and yes i know, we have stalkers almost everywhere we go but this…he’s different.” you finally gain the courage to take your hands away from your face.

you carefully look at him, only to see his eyes already searching yours. “at first it was ‘normal’ stalking behavior but it progressed aggressively, from posting my whereabouts with possessive words to posting photos of me in the distance and a weapon pointed at my direction.” you heard him sharply inhale, like a dragon preparing to blow a huge fire on something, or someone. only then did you realize the close proximity that you’re in, his knees almost touching your thighs.

his eyes were no longer warm and inviting, you can almost see the protective fiery glistening. he gets up and leaves, leaving you dumbfounded. after what felt like hours, he came back. “i talked to my attorney, he works with some of the best detectives in seoul, and he will get the fucker on his knees in two days max.” he walked towards you, “until then, please allow me to escort you to the safest place i know, a house that not even my family knows about.” he stops in his tracks, his eyes widening at you. that’s when you realize your tears has betrayed you and are flowing freely down your face.

without thinking, he kneels down at where your sitting, and envelops you in the warmest embrace. it was right, protective, and everything you needed. sobs escaped as you held on to him, finally letting go. “i’m scared” you say almost incoherently, and you feel him pulling you closer, if it was even possible, as he drew comforting circles on your back. as he whispered protective promises, you felt your cries becoming hiccups, as you slowly calmed down.

he pulled away, only slightly, with one of his hands holding you while the other cupped you face, gently wiping your tears away. “i’m sorry that i didn’t know sooner” he breathed. “it’s okay” you choked. “no, it’s not. i have been following your updates, looking forward to anything that you do, wanting to approach you, but i never did.” he eyes moved down your lips for a moment then back to your eyes. “i should’ve asked your number the first day that i met you.” he confessed. it was your turn to stare at him wide-eyed.

“what do you…” you were once again aware of your close proximity. “mean?” you whispered, afraid talking any louder would give your feelings away. “i…liked you the first time i saw you, then started wanting more of you when i started talking to you. you amaze me, (y/n), truly.” he let you go, and you didn’t realize that you were holding your breath. “but i didn’t want to come off as weird, because, as weird as it sounds, im serious about you.”

you felt warmness spread from the center of your ribs outwards, enveloping you whole with new intense feelings. “well,” you breathed, “then that makes us two weirdos.” you brought your hand to hold his in place, afraid that he’ll run away with your confession, “i feel the same way about you” he felt his heartbeat speeding. “i like you too, jiyong. and i wanted to get your number way earlier on as well.”

you were almost blinded by his toothy smile, his eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights. and before you could return a smile, he pressed his lips on the space between your brows, sending an embarrassing blush from your cheeks down to your neck. he pulled back, ghostly brushing his thumb over your lower lip, and before you could prepare your heart, he closed in the distance.

he wanted it to be a gentle kiss, he really did, but he couldn’t get enough of you. he could almost taste the coffee you’ve had a while ago, and he wanted to devour all of you. he put one hand around the back of your neck and his other on your waist and kissed you harder, biting your lower lip for permission. but he didn’t need one, because you were so desperate to let him in. he was rough, his neediness seeping through the kiss.

you both got lost in the kiss, forgetting about the necessity of air. you reluctantly pull back, only enough for the both of you to breathe, as he rested his forehead on yours. “that was…” you were both smiling. you haven’t felt this safe and happy in a really long time, and you didn’t want to let go of him, ever. “so, you said you know of a safe place for me?” you can see the side of his mouth move upwards into a smirk, “eager, are we?” you hit the his elbow, giggling.

“we have plenty of time to get there, i want to take it slow, with you.” you looked away, your cheeks betraying you. you heard him laugh, “me too (y/n), and i’ve never felt this way about someone. i want to protect you, if you allow me to.” you reached for his hand, interlocking them, and adding a reassuring squeeze “you have no choice now, since i don’t think i can feel safe with anyone but you.” you still had one question lingering in your mind.

“hey…uhm, does that mean you didn’t really want to collaborate with me? like…using it as an excuse..?”. “no, i really love your music, and i really want to release music with you.” you searched his eyes, looking for any sign that what he said wasn’t true. “although, i’m not going to lie, i thought if you saw me doing what i do best, music, you would…like me.” you placed your hand on the top of his head, ruffling it.

“but i liked you for the way you talk, the way you try to involve everyone in the conversation, the way your eyes shine when you talk about your passions.” you were now stroking his cheek, “i liked the way you carried yourself, and i like you even more for the way that you can be vulnerable with me. i love your music, of course, but kwon jiyong is so much more than music.” you smiled.

he brought your palm to his lips, and kissed it. he was in trouble now. you were in trouble. because he believes that he won’t be able to let you go, ever.

#gdragon #kwon jiyong #bigbang #jiyongie #drabbles #scenarios #imagines #writing #oneshots #fanfic #gdragon power #g dragon #taeyang #daesung #mama 2024

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emmiesoverthemoon · 2 months ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he’s so boyfriend: two

Pairings: choi seunghyun x reader / kwon jiyong x reader / kang daesung x reader

Word Count: 7,899

Summary: just cute little scenarios between u and each guy, the second edition! i got a little carried away this time,,, enjoy!!!

part one part three

pov: you get stuck in the rain without an umbrella

jiyong: cheesy cliché

The first cold droplets splatter against your skin, a slow drizzle turning into a full-on downpour as Jiyong tugs you by the wrist, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Come on," he grins, "what kind of lovers would we be if we didn’t have a dramatic rain moment?"

"You’re ridiculous," you laugh, half-heartedly resisting, but he's already dragging you into the open, past the overhang of the café where you’d been taking shelter. The rain hits instantly, cool and shocking, drenching through your clothes in seconds.

Jiyong doesn’t care. His arms spread out like he’s drinking in the sky itself, hair slicked to his forehead, his white shirt clinging to his frame, becoming slightly see through—which did not go unnoticed by you. He looks like he belongs in a movie—some reckless, lovestruck fool dancing in the middle of a storm, eyes twinkling as he turns to you.

You shake your head, exasperated but grinning. "You're actually crazy."

"And yet," he steps closer, looping his arms around your waist, "you love me."

You roll your eyes, but it’s true.

The world fades into soft, grey static, the rain a gentle rhythm on pavement, against your skin, the chill soaking through to your bones. Jiyong sways you, humming some old love song you don’t recognize, his laughter mixing with the music of the storm. He spins you once, then twice, and you go along with it, both of you slipping and sliding on wet pavement, giggling like idiots.

Then, he stops. Looks at you like you're the only thing worth seeing. His hands cup your face, fingers damp and chilled, but his lips—when he finally presses them against yours—are warm, sweet, lingering like he wants to stay in this moment forever.

It’s perfect.

At least, until reality smacks you both in the face.

Jiyong pulls back, blinking through the rain. “Wait—how are we getting home?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, your car—”

The two of you whip around to stare at his sleek, very dry sports vehicle parked under the streetlamp. As if on cue, a fat droplet slides off the tip of your nose.

Jiyong curses. “We’re gonna soak the seats.”

You groan. “We should’ve thought this through.”

But then he’s laughing—loud, carefree, absolutely unapologetic—and you can’t help but join in. The two of you bolt for the car, jumping into the seats with a wet splat. Jiyong winces as he grips the wheel, his soaked clothes sticking to the leather.

You glance at him, half-scolding, half-amused. "You and your movie moments."

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “Worth it.”

And as the car fills with the scent of rain and the sound of your shared, breathless laughter, you think—yeah. Maybe it was.

daesung: the noble sacrifice

The afternoon rain had started softly, a gentle pitter-patter against the windows of the café. But the moment you and Daesung stepped outside, it was like the sky couldn’t hold back anymore. The downpour began, soaking everything in an instant, and you squealed, pulling your jacket closer around yourself.

Daesung, ever the charmer, paused and dramatically looked at you, his eyes widening. “You’re cold,” he stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, no kidding, Daesung. It's raining cats and dogs out here,” you quipped, pulling your collar higher to shield yourself from the storm.

Without a second thought, Daesung grinned, took off his hoodie, and threw it over your head. "Here, wear this. It'll keep you warm!"

You blinked in surprise. "You’re giving me your hoodie?"

“Yes!” he said with such conviction, as if he had just solved all your problems. “It’s the most romantic thing I could do for you right now.” He puffed his chest out proudly, clearly thinking he had pulled off something dramatic and sweet.

You looked at him, blinking in confusion. “Daesung, it’s a little too big for me. I’m literally drowning in this thing…”

“Exactly! It’s cozy!” He smiled, oblivious to the fact that you were now swimming in fabric, practically a human tent.

“I can barely see through this thing,” you chuckled, your arms struggling to keep the oversized hoodie from dragging you down. But Daesung was so proud of his “romantic gesture” that you didn’t want to crush his excitement.

The rain continued to pour harder, soaking your hair, your shoes, and his hoodie, which was now weighed down with water. "Okay, Daesung, let’s be honest here," you said, laughing as you started to walk, “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the most practical choice…”

He looked down at the way the hoodie dripped water and then back up at you with the most earnest expression on his face. “No… no it wasn’t.”

And then, like a lightbulb moment, he grinned widely. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not fun!”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Daesung skipped into a nearby puddle, splashing water up to your knees. You gasped, stepping back. “Daesung!”

He threw his hands up in victory. “Splash fight, right now!”

You didn’t need another invitation. With a laugh, you jumped into the next puddle you saw, sending water flying in all directions. Daesung mirrored your moves, and soon, the two of you were splashing around like children, laughing at how ridiculous everything was.

“Who’s winning, huh?!” Daesung shouted between fits of laughter, his hoodie now thoroughly soaked and stuck to his body.

“You’re about to get drenched even more, Daesung!” you warned, trying to dodge his next splash.

“Not if I beat you to it!” He lunged, catching you by surprise with a gentle splash straight to your face.

You gasped dramatically, wiping your face, and then, grinning like a mischievous child, threw a full splash back at him. “Take that!”

By the time you both had thoroughly soaked each other, you could hardly keep up with the laughter, dripping wet and barely able to stand up straight from all the giggling.

“I swear,” you said between laughs, “this has to be the most ridiculous thing we’ve done.”

Daesung wiped water from his eyes, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the fun. “We’re pretty amazing, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, amazing,” you chuckled, now fully drenched but not caring one bit. “Just a bit impractical, though.”

“Well,” Daesung grinned, “the hoodie still looks cute on you. Even if it’s a bit too big.”

You nodded, still laughing. “That’s because I’m wearing your impractical hoodie, genius.”

He just smiled and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close despite the water soaking into both of you. “Worth it.”

seunghyun: nice and 'prepared'

The rain had caught you both off guard. You had barely made it out of the café before the skies opened up, and now you were both caught in a downpour with no umbrella in sight. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, shivering from the sudden chill.

Seunghyun, with his usual cool demeanor, looked over at you, eyes scanning the weather. Then, with a small sigh, he glanced at you with a sheepish smile. "I... may have left the umbrella in the car," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But hey, we’re here now."

You shot him a playful look. "Did you think this rain was going to hold off until we got back?" you teased, your voice full of amusement despite the situation.

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Hey, I was the one who checked the forecast this morning, okay? You can't blame me for forgetting one small detail."

The two of you stood there for a moment, both laughing at the irony of it all. Without missing a beat, Seunghyun grabbed your hand and started to jog in the direction of the car. "Alright, let's just make a run for it. We'll beat the rain."

You both ran, your feet splashing through puddles as the water soaked you from head to toe. Seunghyun stayed close, but in that classic Seunghyun way, he was still trying to stay cool about it—one hand casually holding yours, the other wiping his wet hair out of his face.

Halfway to the car, you started to laugh, the situation completely ridiculous but somehow perfect. “I can't believe we’re doing this," you said, breathless from both the running and the laughter.

“I can’t believe I forgot the umbrella,” Seunghyun responded, his voice tinged with mock annoyance, but the playful glint in his eye told you everything. "But hey, look on the bright side. It’ll be a great story to tell later."

As you both reached the car, laughing and dripping wet, Seunghyun opened the door for you, then paused to look at your soaked state. “Well,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and smirking, “at least we’re in this together.”

You couldn't help but smile, the day’s misadventures only making him more endearing. "Next time," you said with a grin, "you better bring the umbrella."

“Deal,” he said with a wink, pulling you into the car. "Next time, we’ll be dry. Hopefully."

pov: locked in a small space

jiyong: seven minutes

You and Jiyong had somehow ended up stuck in a small, cramped pantry together. It wasn’t intentional, of course. Just a random series of events that had led to both of you being trapped in the tiny space, the door somehow locking behind you.

You leaned back against the only wall without shelving units, arms crossed, trying to make the best of the situation. "Well, this is... great," you said, laughing a little despite the light awkwardness. "Guess we’re stuck here for a bit."

Jiyong, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, the small, confined space seemed to only amuse him. He flashed that playful smirk of his, leaning in closer, and with a teasing glint in his eye, he gave you a seductive once-over.

"You know," he started, voice low and smooth, taking a step toward you, "this is like a movie 7 minutes in heaven situation, isn’t it?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden change in attitude. “Jiyong, really?”

He took a step closer, his body pressed against yours now, and he leaned in even more. "I mean," he said, his voice practically a whisper, "you know what I can do in 7 minutes?" His eyes glinted with mischief as his hands brushed lightly against the edge of your sleeve.

You froze for a second, a little caught off guard by how close he suddenly was. The small space made everything feel just a bit more intimate, and Jiyong’s teasing, flirtatious energy only amplified the tension.

“Stop it,” you said, trying to sound serious, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Jiyong chuckled softly, his hands now flush to your waist, holding you against him. “What?” he asked innocently, though there was nothing innocent about the way his eyes were locked onto yours. “I’m just making the most of the situation.”

You shook your head, but an embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "You really know how to make the best of being in a tight spot, huh?"

Jiyong grinned mischeviously, his lips just inches from yours now, his teasing energy completely undeniable. “Tight spots are my specialty.”

seunghyun: closeness is most comfortable

You and Seunghyun had been in a rush earlier that day, trying to get everything done before the storm hit. But now, here you were—stuck in an elevator, and it didn’t seem like it was going anywhere anytime soon. The storm raged outside, the rain hammering against the metal walls, but inside the elevator, it was just the two of you.

Seunghyun, as usual, didn’t seem phased by the situation. He gave you a smile that was part mischievous, part carefree, as if this was just another little hiccup in your day. And, to be fair, it was.

“Well, since we’re stuck, might as well get comfortable,” he said, his tone entirely too casual, and before you could even respond, he lowered himself to sit against the back wall of the elevator with a sigh of contentment. Without missing a beat, he pulled you into his lap, settling you there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked in surprise, but as always with Seunghyun, it didn’t take long to adjust. You were already used to his easy, affectionate nature, and the small space didn’t even faze him. He simply wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close with a lazy grin on his face.

“Seunghyun,” you started, trying to keep your voice serious, but it was hard when you could feel the warmth of his body, and he looked so comfortable already. “Is this really necessary?”

He shrugged as if it were the most logical thing. “Of course. We’re stuck in here. No point in standing around being all stiff and uncomfortable.” His hands casually rested on your waist, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against the fabric of your shirt. “I like being close to you anyway. Plus, I’m not going anywhere. Might as well make the best of it.”

You tried not to laugh, but the way he was acting so nonchalant about it made it impossible. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Seunghyun only chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before letting his hand rest there. “I’m just making the most of our time together. No point in being grumpy when I get to hang out with my favorite person, right?”

You smiled, shaking your head at his antics. Of course, he would make something so normal feel like an adventure. But that was Seunghyun for you—easygoing and always making the best of everything, even a stuck elevator.

And before you knew it, the moment had become comfortable. You let yourself settle into his embrace, leaning your head on his shoulder as the sounds of the storm outside became a distant hum. “You’re right,” you said, your voice soft, “I guess this isn’t so bad after all.”

“See?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, still holding you close. “Stuck in a small space with you, just the two of us? Could be worse. Plus, this is the best kind of company.”

And just like that, the storm outside seemed far away, and all that mattered was being there, in that small, quiet space with Seunghyun. It was something that had long since become normal for the two of you—the comfort of being close, no matter where you were.

daesung: an attempt of an icebreaker

You and Daesung had found yourselves trapped in the cramped supply closet after a series of unfortunate events. The door had somehow swung shut behind you, and now you were both stuck in the small space, with barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

As you shifted, trying to make yourself a little more comfortable, you suddenly became acutely aware of how close Daesung was. His shoulder brushed against yours, and the proximity between you both seemed to magnify everything. The air felt heavier, and even the tiniest movements felt like they were echoing in the tiny room.

Daesung, usually so confident and easygoing, froze. His body went completely still, as though he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you two, or rather, the lack of it. His eyes darted to the side, then quickly down, and then up again—clearly avoiding your gaze. A nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he scratched the back of his neck.

“So...” Daesung mumbled, his voice suddenly much quieter than usual, a touch of awkwardness in his tone. “You come here often?”

You blinked, unsure if he was joking or genuinely trying to break the tension. His face was slightly flushed, and the nervous energy radiating from him was almost tangible. You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at how awkward his attempt to break the silence sounded.

Daesung immediately went redder, his eyes widening as he realized what he'd just said. “Wait, no! That—ugh, forget I said that.” He quickly flailed a hand in the air, clearly embarrassed by his choice of words.

You smirked, enjoying the rare moment of seeing him flustered. “Oh my god, Daesung. Really? 'You come here often'?" You teased, trying to keep your voice light. “That’s your icebreaker?”

He fidgeted, clearly not knowing how to recover from his awkwardness. "I—I mean, I don’t really have a backup line, okay? I was just trying to say something to—y'know—ease the tension." He chuckled nervously, his fingers still anxiously twitching as he tried to regain some composure.

You were absolutely charmed by how flustered he was. There was something so endearing about seeing Daesung, the confident and carefree guy everyone knew, suddenly so unsure of himself. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” you said, teasing him gently.

Daesung looked at you, eyes wide, as his face turned even redder. “Stop, I can’t take this,” he muttered, trying to hide his face in his hands, but the small space made it impossible for him to escape from the situation. His fingers rubbed the back of his neck in nervous habit, as if he could distract himself from how awkward it was. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

"Well," you said, leaning a little closer, still amused by the situation, "you’re stuck with me now. You might as well make the best of it."

Daesung exhaled sharply, trying to seem nonchalant, but the way his eyes flicked down at your hand brushing against his arm gave him away. "Right... I guess I could get used to the whole... 'stuck in a closet' thing," he said with a sheepish grin, though he still couldn't seem to make eye contact.

You chuckled, the tension slowly fading as you both stood there, practically shoulder to shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. The awkwardness was still lingering, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was... sweet. Daesung wasn’t perfect, and it was moments like this—vulnerable and unsure—that made him even more endearing.

"You know," you said with a playful grin, "you could have at least said, 'Nice weather we're having' if you really wanted to be awkward."

Daesung gave you a mock glare, but his smile was already returning. "You’re just full of great ideas, huh? I’ll keep that one in my back pocket next time."

You laughed softly. "Well, it’s always a good one for the next awkward situation."

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the silence was comfortable now. You were close enough to feel the warmth from Daesung’s body, but the situation didn’t feel quite as claustrophobic anymore. The rain outside had picked up a little, and all you could hear was the soft pitter-patter on the windows.

“You still think we’re gonna get out of here soon?” Daesung asked, his voice quieter now, the playful edge replaced with a bit of genuine curiosity.

You smiled, brushing your hand against his arm gently. “Honestly, I have no idea. But if we’re stuck here longer... at least we’ve got each other, right?”

Daesung’s eyes softened at that, and for a moment, his usual carefree energy returned, the shy awkwardness melting away. “Yeah,” he said with a quiet smile, "at least we’ve got that."

And somehow, in that tiny, awkward space, everything felt just right.

pov: absentmindedly playing with hands or hair

seunghyun: perfect balance of collected and confident

Publicly, Seunghyun doesn’t even give the slightest indication that your touch is having any effect on him. On the outside, he’s the same calm, collected presence he always is—quiet, reserved, and effortlessly cool. But the moment your fingers slip into his hair, gently running through the strands, there’s a subtle shift. His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, and his eyes soften, though he doesn’t dare to look at you fully. The corners of his mouth twitch just enough to show his enjoyment, but it’s so fleeting, most wouldn’t notice. He’s melting inside, completely at ease, as if the world around him has slowed to a halt. Your touch has this uncanny way of unwinding every bit of tension from his body. He feels a warmth spread through him that’s more soothing than anything else. He’s swooning, mentally, but there’s not a word spoken, no public display—just a quiet relaxation that only you can bring. In fact, he makes sure to keep his composure outwardly, so no one can ever guess just how much your simple touch is affecting him. His hand might twitch, ready to grab yours and pull you a little closer, but in the end, he just lets the moment pass, silently appreciating it.

But as soon as you're in private, everything changes. The calm and collected Seunghyun you know in public is nowhere to be found. Instead, he becomes a little more smug, a little more self-assured. He knows exactly what effect you have on him, and now it’s your turn to feel that same effect. He watches you with a teasing grin, leaning in just close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. His eyes flicker down to where your hands are—already making their way to him, unable to resist touching him, even just for a moment. “Can’t keep your hands off me, hm, princess?” he says, his voice low and smooth, dripping with playful confidence. The words are casual, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story—one that says he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Before you can even answer, he grabs your hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles with a flourish, like he’s making some grand gesture. “Are my hands that interesting?” he teases, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes growing.

You nod far too eagerly, your excitement spilling over, and Seunghyun’s grin only widens, enjoying the fact that he has this power over you. “A bit too excited, aren’t we?” he comments, amusement dancing on his features as he brings your hand back down. Then, with a soft but unmistakable shift, he pulls you closer by the waist, his arms settling around you possessively. “You’re so easy to read, you know that?” he adds, the teasing in his tone laced with something a little deeper—something soft, though wrapped in all the cocky confidence that makes him him.

His lips hover near your ear for just a moment, his breath warm against your skin. “But I don’t mind it,” he whispers, his smile turning a little softer. “I like knowing you’re mine.”

You can't help the way your heart flutters at his words, the warmth of his hands, and the complete shift from teasing to affection. He’s playful, but in moments like this, you can feel how completely he’s wrapped around you—and you around him, just as much.

daesung: return to sender

Publicly or privately, Daesung simply does not care—he is absolutely devoted to making sure you feel loved and appreciated at all times. It’s like a natural instinct for him, no matter where you are or who’s around. When it comes to you, there’s no such thing as too much affection, too many thoughtful gestures, or too many ways to show you how much he cherishes you. If you softly touch his hand, his first reaction is to kiss it. Not just a quick peck, but a tender, lingering kiss, as if he’s holding your hand for the first time all over again. He makes sure it’s clear that your touch is the most precious thing in the world to him. Then, after pulling away, he will massage your hand, gently rubbing each knuckle and the palm as if he’s trying to give you all the warmth and love he has to offer, a soft, soothing rhythm that mirrors the way his heart beats when you’re near.

If you fix his hair, Daesung is positively glowing with happiness. Instead of just saying thank you and leaving it at that, he wants to return the favor, and he does so in his own, playful, and sweet way. "Well, if you're fixing my hair, I guess it’s only fair that I try doing yours," he’ll say, his grin making his eyes sparkle. He’ll carefully take your hair between his fingers, running them through the strands with such tenderness it feels almost reverent. His fingers move gently, as though he’s trying to memorize the feeling of caring for you in this way. It’s a simple act, yet there’s so much love behind it, and you can feel the warmth of his affection in every delicate stroke. The moment is intimate, calming, and grounding—one where you can feel how much he treasures being this close to you.

And if you touch his arm, well, that’s when Daesung completely takes over. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Without hesitation, he’s right behind you, his hands moving to your shoulders in an instant. His touch is light but strong, as his fingers knead the tension out of your muscles. He massages slowly, with so much care, making sure every inch of stress is melted away. You might have touched his arm, but now he’s the one caring for you, taking that moment to pamper you instead of being pampered. The way his hands move is almost instinctual—he’s so gentle, so considerate, it feels as if he’s giving you the world with just a simple massage. What was meant to be a brief act of tenderness towards him turns into a quiet, loving act of service from him to you.

Daesung isn’t just about the grand gestures; he knows that love is often shown through the small, everyday moments—these tiny, thoughtful acts that say everything without needing a word. And he makes sure you know, every single day, just how much you mean to him, through all the little things he does to make you feel cherished, adored, and completely cared for. To him, it’s the small moments that truly matter, the ones that prove just how deeply he loves you, because he knows that love is in the details.

jiyong: inked stories

Jiyong, always effortlessly calm and composed, never questions when you begin tracing over his hands or arms, just allowing you to do whatever you wish. It’s as if there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a quiet rhythm that feels so natural. He finds solace in it, as if your touch grounds him in a way words never could. Every movement you make is met with patience and a soft smile, and he’s absolutely enchanted by the way you seem to get lost in these moments—tracing the lines of his palms, following the curves of his arms. It’s intimate in its simplicity, and it’s something he looks forward to without even realizing it.

What truly makes his heart swell, though, is when your fingers trace over his tattoos. He knows you adore them. He’s aware of how your eyes light up when your fingers skim the ink, the designs he’s carried with him through his journey. They’re more than just tattoos to him; they’re pieces of his past, each one telling a story. But seeing you trace them so reverently, with such love and appreciation, makes him feel something deeper—like those tattoos are even more meaningful because you’re the one noticing them, the one paying attention to these parts of him that aren’t immediately obvious. He treasures that you take the time to appreciate the things that define him, to make him feel seen in such a personal way.

“You always make my tattoos look so much better,” he says with a teasing grin, though there’s an underlying sincerity in his words. He catches your gaze as your fingers hover over one of the designs on his arm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think you’re the only one who sees them the way I do.”

You glance up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you continue tracing the intricate patterns. “I just think they’re beautiful. You’ve got stories etched on your skin, and I love hearing them without words.”

His heart skips a beat at that, and he watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. “I’ve got all these tattoos, but none of them mean as much as the way you look at them,” he admits quietly, his thumb brushing over your wrist.

When you’re satisfied, when you finally pull your hands away, Jiyong doesn’t rush. His fingers gently close around yours, his thumb softly running over the back of your hand, his touch warm and steady. He intertwines your fingers together without a second thought, his hand enveloping yours like it was always meant to be. There’s something tender, something almost reverent about the way he holds you, like he’s holding onto something precious. His eyes meet yours, soft and full of affection, the quiet intimacy between you both speaking volumes. He doesn’t need to say anything—he already knows. The connection is there, woven into the smallest gestures, the ones that speak the loudest, and he treasures every second of it.

pov: he walks in on you singing (you're amazing)

daesung: harmonies and vocal training

You’re mid-song, completely lost in the melody, when a second voice slips in seamlessly with yours. At first, you don’t think much of it—just an echo in your head, maybe a trick of the music. But then it grows stronger, harmonizing perfectly, the warmth of familiarity making your stomach flip.

You freeze.

Daesung.

Before you can react, he’s no longer just harmonizing—he’s belting at full power like he’s center stage at the biggest concert of his career. The walls practically vibrate with his voice, and you let out an involuntary yelp, startled out of your skin.

He yells back, louder, eyes wide, like he’s the one who’s been caught.

There’s a split second of stunned silence where you just stare at each other, and then, as if on cue, you both burst into laughter.

“I—Why did you scream?!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach, barely able to get the words out between giggles.

“Why did YOU scream?!” you shoot back, still trying to process the sheer volume of what just happened.

He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes a step closer. “Okay, but seriously,” he says, nudging you. “You’ve been hiding that voice from me? From me? I literally sing for a living, and you didn’t think to mention this?”

You groan, face heating. “It’s not like I was hiding it—”

Daesung cuts you off with a dramatic gasp. “So you mean you just forgot to tell me you’re secretly amazing? Wow. Betrayal.”

You shove him lightly, rolling your eyes, but he’s already launching into another playful over-the-top vocal run, still grinning ear to ear. Then, before you can protest, he throws an arm around you and sways dramatically, humming the melody you were just singing.

“You know,” he says, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I think I should become your vocal coach. We’ll train every day—warm-ups in the morning, practice in the afternoon. We can do duets! Matching stage outfits! A unit name! Oh, this is happening.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines, giving you a gentle shake. “I’m Daesung! It’s literally my job to make people sing. And now that I know you have this secret talent, I have to help you unleash your full potential.”

“I don’t need to unleash anything—”

“Too late. You’ve been discovered.” He gasps again, eyes gleaming with fake betrayal. “Unless… unless you hate my singing! Oh no. That’s why you didn’t tell me, isn’t it? You’re tired of hearing my voice.”

You snort. “You are so dramatic.”

“I have to be. For the industry.” He puffs out his chest, then nudges you again. “So? When’s our first rehearsal?”

You sigh, shaking your head, but you can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

"Tomorrow morning? Great! I'll see you in the morning baby!" He excitedly ran out of the room, causing you to laugh aloud—you live together you will see him as soon as you exit the room as well. Oh, Daesung.

seunghyun: totally starstruck

You don’t notice him at first.

You’re too lost in the song, letting the melody spill effortlessly from your lips, the way it wraps around the air like something tangible, something alive. It’s just you, your voice, and the quiet room—until the weight of a gaze suddenly makes you falter.

You glance up, startled, and there he is.

Seunghyun stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted slightly as if he had something to say but forgot how to speak. His entire posture—still, rigid, like he’s afraid to move—tells you everything before he even opens his mouth.

“…Do that again.”

His voice is hushed, reverent, but there’s an intensity beneath it, like this moment is something sacred.

You blink, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”

“Sing again.” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast. “Please.”

You let out a flustered laugh, trying to shake off the weight of his stare. “Seunghyun, it’s really not—”

“It is,” he interrupts, shaking his head, still looking at you like he’s seeing something unreal. “Why aren’t you doing this as a career?”

You scoff, shifting awkwardly under his unwavering gaze. “Because I couldn't get up on stage in front of people! I got anxious when I found out only you were listening—”

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “That’s ridiculous.” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s trying to process something huge. “You sound better than—” he hesitates, eyes flickering over your face as if searching for the right words. When he finds them, his voice is almost breathless. “Better than anyone I’ve ever heard. Ever.”

Your face warms under the intensity of his words, but he isn’t done.

Suddenly, he’s closer—so close that you barely register the moment his hands find yours, his grip firm but gentle, grounding. “Let me record you,” he says, almost pleading. “Sample your voice. Something. Anything.”

You laugh, flustered, shaking your head. “Seunghyun, no—”

He ignores your protest, his thumbs brushing lightly over your knuckles, his gaze still holding that same quiet, devastating awe. “I need to hear you like that again.” A pause. “Do you know what you just did to me?”

You swallow hard, unsure how to respond, because you’re the one who feels undone under the weight of his devotion.

To him, it’s like he’s falling in love all over again. And he has no intention of getting back up.

jiyong: your first fanboy

You’re lost in the music again, wrapped in your own little world, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and instinctively, you turn—only to find Jiyong standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smug grin plastered across his face. His eyes gleam with mischief, and you can already tell that he's about to make this moment so much more than it needs to be.

“You really didn’t think to tell me about this?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I mean, I knew you were talented, but this?” He shakes his head as if he’s genuinely offended. “I’m hurt, baby.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling nervously. “It’s not a big deal, Jiyong.”

“Not a big deal?” he scoffs, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. “You’re basically a superstar and you never even mentioned it? Unbelievable. Well, if you won’t tell me, I guess I’ll just have to do it for you.”

Before you can protest, he taps his phone screen and a playlist of your favorite songs starts playing. He uses his phone as a makeshift lightstick, dramatically waving it in the air as he steps forward, his smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, let’s do this properly,” he announces, as though he’s about to manage a full-scale performance.

You laugh, feeling completely exposed now, but Jiyong’s energy is infectious. He steps into the middle of the room, sets his phone down on a nearby table, and hits play on the next song. He starts dancing around you, pretending to be the most enthusiastic fan, fully immersing himself in the “show.” Every so often, he pulls exaggerated, overly dramatic dance moves—his “fanboy” act is too much, and you can’t help but giggle.

“You’re so cheesy,” you say, trying to hide your embarrassment, but also thoroughly entertained.

“You love it,” he grins, spinning you around like you're both part of some spontaneous duet. “You’re welcome. This is the kind of spotlight you deserve.”

As the song comes to a close, he steps back, using his phone to “judge” your performance like a panelist on some reality show. “And a perfect ten! Unbelievable! You’re incredible, but I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me all this time,” he teases, dramatically wiping away a fake tear.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is full of affection. “I wasn’t hiding it, Jiyong. I just—”

“Nope!” he interrupts, cutting you off with a hand up. “You’re a star. And I knew it.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. “I think you were just trying to keep all the attention for yourself, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jiyong just winks, sweeping you into his arms. “I’m just the best manager ever. Now, go on, show me the next song, superstar.”

pov: returning home after a tour and finding out you missed him

seunghyun: human charger

The second you opened the door, Seunghyun was standing there, looking composed as ever—hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly, that unreadable expression on his face. But his eyes. His eyes gave him away.

“You’re back,” you breathed, a little stunned even though you knew he was coming home today. It still felt surreal after all those weeks apart. “I missed you so much Seunghyun.”

For a fraction of a second, his lips twitched—like he was fighting back the urge to actually react. Then, with the smoothest, most indifferent tone, he said, “Oh? You missed me?” He let out a soft scoff, looking off to the side. “That’s funny. I didn’t even notice you weren't with me.”

Before you could even pretend to be offended, he had already closed the space between you, wrapping his arms around you tight. No hesitation, no delay. Like he had been holding himself back for far too long, and now that you were in front of him, he wasn’t wasting another second.

You melted into him, letting yourself be enveloped in his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his chin resting on your shoulder. “Liar,” you murmured, smiling against the fabric of his jacket.

His arms only tightened around you in response.

It wasn’t until later that you noticed the real extent of how much he had actually missed you.

The next morning, when you asked about his schedule, he just shrugged, sitting comfortably on the couch with you wrapped up in his hold. “Cleared it,” he said simply, scrolling through his phone.

“…Cleared it?” You blinked. “Like—what do you mean, cleared it?”

“I mean exactly that.” He didn’t even look up. “No meetings. No interviews. No rehearsals. Nothing. I’m busy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Busy doing what?”

At that, he finally glanced at you, expression unreadable for just a moment before he spoke, voice completely steady—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Being here. Need to recharge. You're my charger,” His words were so matter-of-factly that you had no case if you were to deny what he said—you would be crazy to do that.

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and endeared. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.” He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he tugged you closer.

You sighed, defeated, and let yourself melt into him. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I really do.”

He hummed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

And sure enough, for the next few days, he refused to let you go anywhere without him. If you had errands? He was coming with you. If you had plans? He adjusted them so you could stay in instead. If you so much as moved from the couch, his arm would subtly tighten around you, an unbreakable vise grip that you welcomed warmly.

daesung: everything is a reminder of you

The moment Daesung stepped through the front door, his suitcase rolling behind him, his face lit up the second he saw you. He barely had a chance to say anything before you blurted it out.

“I missed you.”

For a brief second, he just stared at you, his eyes widening as if those words had flipped some switch inside him. Then, suddenly, his whole expression softened into the warmest, most radiant smile.

“You missed me?” His voice was filled with so much genuine happiness, like he couldn’t believe it even though he had been hoping to hear it. Then, before you could even answer, he closed the space between you in a heartbeat, wrapping you up in his arms. “Oh my god, I missed you too! You know that, I told you every day by text, but it wasn’t the same.”

You laughed against his shoulder, feeling how tightly he was holding you, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire tour. He smelled like airport air and faded cologne, but underneath it was something distinctly him, something that made you want to stay right there forever.

Then, just as suddenly as he had hugged you, he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Oh! Wait! I got you something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Something?”

Daesung grinned. “Okay... maybe a few things.”

And then he grabbed his suitcase, unzipped it with so much enthusiasm that you swore he almost broke the zipper, and started pulling out item after item after item.

“This reminded me of you.” He placed a small trinket in your hands—a keychain shaped like a little cartoon animal, one of your favorites.

“And this one too. Oh, and this! I saw this and immediately thought of you.” A little stuffed animal, then a handmade bracelet, then a snack from one of the local markets.

You watched in awe as the pile kept growing. “Daesung, how much stuff did you buy?”

He looked sheepish but only for a second before laughing. “A lot… but I couldn’t not get them! Everywhere I went, something reminded me of you, and I kept thinking, ‘Oh, she would love this!’ And I couldn’t just choose one thing, so I got everything.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of souvenirs but also by the sentiment behind them. He had spent all that time away, traveling from city to city, but he had still been thinking of you the entire time.

Your chest felt warm, overflowing with affection. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, shaking your head, but you were smiling, and he knew you weren’t mad in the slightest.

Daesung beamed. “Ridiculously in love with you.” Then he held up one more thing—his arms, wide open. “Now come here and let me make up for all that lost time.”

And, of course, you didn’t hesitate to fall right back into his embrace.

jiyong: planning and eavesdropping

The moment you sighed out the words—“I missed you.”—Jiyong stilled. His lips parted slightly, eyes glinting with something smug. Then, his expression shifted into full dramatic mode.

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. “Say it again.”

You blinked. “What?”

He leaned in, grinning now. “One more time. Just for me.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to protest, but then he was already pulling you forward, locking you in his arms with a delighted sigh. “Actually, forget that. You’re not going anywhere, little lady. You belong right here for at least the next hour.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, but you didn’t try to pull away. There was no point—Jiyong had latched onto you like a koala, his arms wound tight around your waist, legs tangled with yours as if to physically make up for all the lost time.

The two cats, clearly attuned to the energy in the room, jumped up onto the couch beside you both. One curled into the space between you, the other settled by your legs, their purring blending seamlessly with the warmth of Jiyong’s body against yours.

“You’re acting like I was gone for a year,” you teased, running a hand through his hair.

“Felt like it,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning every inch of your face like he was committing it to memory again. “Next time, I’m bringing you with me.”

“You always say that,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, and one day it’s actually gonna happen.” He pulled you even closer, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I already planned, like… seven different dates for us in different cities, by the way.”

You let out a short laugh. “Seven?”

“Obviously. Do you know how much time I spent thinking about you?” He pulled back slightly, just enough to kiss your temple. “A lot, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

Before you could retort, he suddenly gasped, his entire body tensing with excitement. “Oh my god, I almost forgot. You will not believe the gossip I heard.”

You blinked at the abrupt shift. “What?”

Jiyong leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to tell you the biggest secret in the world. “So, you know how the hairstylists and makeup artists talk to each other while they’re working?”

“Yeah?”

“Well.” His lips curled into a devilish grin. “They think I’m not listening. But I am.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He practically vibrated with excitement. “Okay, listen to this—so apparently, one of the stylists is secretly dating this one idol but no one is supposed to know, but—”

And just like that, the next hour disappeared into a flurry of hushed whispers, gasped reactions, and Jiyong acting out dramatic reenactments of everything he overheard. The cats dozed beside you, entirely unbothered, as he spilled every single secret he had collected like a gremlin hoarding forbidden knowledge.

It wasn’t until much later, when you had both completely melted into each other, his voice softer now as he murmured about places he wanted to take you, that you realized just how much he had missed you.

And how much, without even realizing it, you had missed this.

thanks for reading!

i love making these so like if u want part 3 do lmk!

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sturnsstars · 2 months ago

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a little longer - gdragon

authors note: first time writing for gd, i hope its okay. ngl this thought randomly popped into my head yesterday so i have to write it… also i feel like jiyong is super whimpery in bed when he’s being topped?

tags: smut no plot, men whimpering, blowjob, head pushing, slight throat fucking, cum eating

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

your cheeks were starting to get sore from sucking them in, your lower jaw having a sting to it. you kept your hands steady on ji-yongs thighs that were spread to let you sit in between them, fingertips gently pressing into the skin that had ink under the layers, making slight indents into the plush muscle.

“jagiya- oh god…” ji-yong whispered through an exhale, his chest jerking up every so often whenever he inhaled with a stutter, unable to help himself from the subtle twitches and squirms his body made.

your mouth left a quarter of room to fit your hand around the base of his cock, occasionally tightening your hand around him, just to hear him squeal out a noise that could be considered pathetic.

“slow down- slow…” ji-yong was practically begging you, but you couldnt help it. he just looked so good in that recent photoshoot, you needed to show him how it made you feel. the way his tattoos were peaking out through the mesh shirt, the leather pants, his hair messy. all of it.

while he was begging you to slow down, his hips were rutting upward into your mouth and casing the feeling, making you squeeze your eyes shut tighter when you felt his hot and aching tip kissing the back of your throat, focusing on your breathing while ji-yong was focusing on trying not to come too early from the way your tongue felt on the underside of his dick.

you just barely calmed your actions, loosening your grip around his girthy base, easing the suction in your cheeks, a small and shaky sigh of relief leaving ji-yong. ji-yongs hand gently rested on the back of your head that was raising and lowering in a medium and rhythmic pace, his thumb caressing it for a second before his body tensed up slightly.

“dont stop… m’so- oh…” you casually glanced up at ji-yong when he informed you that he was close to coming, his head leaned back against the almost comically large and expensive bed frame he had, his adam’s apple raising every time he managed to squeeze out a mewl of some sort; high pitched, low pitched, breathy.

you took in a deep breath through your nose, almost like you were preparing yourself for his release, the ticklish feeling of his cum shooting down the warm and gummy walls of your throat, when he pushed down on the back of your head, your lips bumping into your fingers that were still enclosing his cock. what you got in return, was his tip stretching the space, making you choke and hum in shock, the feeling of it making ji-yong teeter on the edge of his orgasm.

“oh fuck- hm-mm… m’sorry aegiya-ah.. a-a little longer…” ji-yong’s head fell forward, his face scrunched up, just as much as his body tensed, keeping your head down on his cock as you sucked, his abdomen flexing as you felt the almost unnoticeable twitch of his dick, your throat feeling sticky as his cum shot into your mouth, a long string of pants and whines and moans in your ears, sounds you would never get tired of.

when ji-yongs body finally relaxed and he was stuck on a panting spree, you slowly lifted your head, making sure to keep your lips around him until you reached the end of his tip, pulling off with a loud and wet ‘pop’ that broke the heavy and thick atmosphere in the bedroom.

you took a deep swallow, his cum coating your throat as it went down, your hand gently releasing its grip on his cock to gently stroke it up and down, your fingertips coated with the saliva-cum mixture that veiled over him. you sat upright on your knees, your eyes stuck on his face; how relieved he looked. little did he know, you were sliding your panties to the side to get ready to ride him until your legs gave out.

#like #follow #bigbang #gdragon #gdragon x reader #jiyong #kwon jiyong #jiyong x reader #jiyongie #kwon jiyong x reader #smut #blurb #drabble #imagine #blowjov

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angel-writes-here · 9 days ago

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Covenant

Choi Seunghyun x AFAB! Reader x G-Dragon Synopsis: As Seunghyun goes to reveal his secret, tragic news comes out. What happens when Jiyong's own secret is revealed? Warnings: Angst, grief, mentions of a dead body. A/N: Part 6 is here! Thank you for all your support on this story! Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Part 5

You watch as he knocks on the door, his posture straight, the bedside lamp the only faint light in the room.

You watch it open, everything feeling like it’s moving in slow motion.

“Can I talk to you, privately?” Seunghyun mumbles. Jiyong’s eyes faintly flit to you, if you hadn’t been watching you never would’ve caught it.

“Yeah,” he says and Seunghyun disappears behind the door.

Your phone rings and you see it’s the hospital.

“Hello?”

On the other side of the door Seunghyun patiently waits as Jiyong’s guest is kicked out of the room. Once the door shuts behind her, Jiyong stares at his friend, waiting for him to speak.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Seunghyun starts.

“Oh fuck, you know,” Jiyong mumbles.

“Huh? Know what?” Seunghyun looks at his friend who is now visibly panicking.

“Don’t you?” He asks confused as to why Seunghyun isn’t more upset.

“I don’t know, you won’t tell me what I know.” Seunghyun says.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

“You know about me and y/n,” he sighs and Seunghyun purses his lips.

“I do,” Jiyong interrupts his friend.

“Hyung, listen, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, things were bad between you two, I seen the situation I took advantage,” Jiyong rambles before Seunghyun can stop him.

“Bro, I’m not mad,” he laughs and Jiyong tilts his head in confusion.

“What?”

“Y/n and I,” he sighs, "It's complicated, we aren't,” before he can finish the door busts open, you’re in tears and your body shakes.

“I need to go home,” you sob. You break down, your body falls to the floor before both the boys rush over to your side.

“Wait, baby, what happened?” You cling to Jiyong despite Seunghyun’s presence.

“The hos-hospital called, it’s my sister,” you sob into his shirt and Jiyong looks at Seunghyun unsure of what he should do.

“Y/n,” he says as he hesitantly puts an arm around you, “What did they say?”

You look into his eyes, nothing but care and concern are present in them.

“She-she’s gone,” you sob. Jiyong’s face turns guilty and Seunghyun’s brow quirks at his friend.

“That makes no sense,” Jiyong mumbles to himself.

“Huh?” What do you mean?” You sniffle as you peer up at him.

Jiyong realizes you heard him and his eyes grow wide as he stiffens. You sit up off him.

“I’m going to let the guys know.” Seunghyun goes to get up. You nod at him as he leaves the two of you alone.

“What makes no sense, Ji,” your eyes are red and puffy, but your voice is steady as an ox.

“Well, you’re mom called me earlier today, she said your sister was doing better and,” your eyes are now growing wide as you shrink away from him.

“You fucking knew something was wrong?” your voice raises a few octaves.

“Y/n, please, she asked me not to tell you, she didn’t want you to worry,” he tries to keep you calm.

“That doesn’t fucking matter Jiyong! You knew she was getting worse?” You shout at him.

“She said there would be no reason to tell you because she was doing better, I was just trying to listen to her,” his defense is useless.

“By keeping me in the fucking dark?! Are you fucking kidding me?” you stand up and what Jiyong see’s pulls goosebumps to the surface of his skin. He’s never seen so much anger and down right hatred in someone’s eyes.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry aint fucking good enough,” your eyes are now watering once more.

“What the hell’s going on?” Seunghyun walks back in, Taeyang and Daesung in tow.

Seunghyun wraps an arm around you as he see’s the disgusted look on your face.

“You’re a piece of fucking shit,” you mutter as you storm out of the room back into your own. Anger bubbles within you, he was a good friend to you and your family, but could he not tell you about your own sister? That this had all happened in the span of a few short days.

Seunghyun enters the room, see's you packing your things furiously and grabs his own suit case. He starts putting away shirts and you stop him.

“No, you have shows to do. Just let me go alone.”

“There’s no way in hell that’s happening.” He states.

“Seung, please I don’t want shows canceled.”

“They won’t be,”

“You’re part of Big Bang, please just stay,” your voice cracks. He looks at you, tears silently sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m your husband. I wasn’t there for you the first time, I’m not making that same mistake again.” He says as he embraces you. Your arms envelope his waist, finally allowing yourself to cry and shake violently in his arms. Your chest heaves, air feels like it’s not enough, and the hurt in your heart from Jiyong is overwhelming.

“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” you say just before you start gasping for air as your body shakes.

“Come here,” he pulls you to the edge of the bed.

“Put your head between your knees.” He guides you and helps you breathe. What neither of you see, is the way Jiyong silently checks on you. The way he peeks his head into the room hearing the chaos. Jiyong feels a hand on his shoulder.

Taeyang.

“She’ll be ok, hyung.” He tries to reassure his friend, but its no use.

He watches as you pick your head up, your eyes meet for a split second before you look away, still too hurt to look at him. He knows he was wrong, but he also didn’t want to burden you for something that he was told the doctors said was fine.

Seunghyun helps you stand up, your breath evening out. The door to your room is shut, the two of you left alone.

“How could he not tell me?” you scoff as you resume packing your things.

“He might have thought he was doing the right thing.”

“He fucking didn’t. Because now, thanks to him, I didn’t even get to say goodbye!” You start to sob again and once again Seunghyun’s arms envelope you in a hug.

“Baby, you may not have gotten that chance anyway. There’s no guarantee you would’ve made it.” He mumbles into your hair.

“I could’ve at least tried!” you pull back from him, not wanting to hear logic and reason. Seunghyun sighs and nods his head.

You arrive in Seoul, a car picking you up to take you to the hospital. A few fans showed up but nothing crazy. Seunghyun threatened anyone who told the media would be fired immediately. You meet your mother at the facility; Seunghyun by your side. He hugs your mother and rubs your back soothingly as you step into the room. You’re still able to view her body, and your own starts to shake as you take her cold, lifeless hand.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry.” You sob once more and Seunghyun holds your shoulders and kisses the crown of your head. You drop her hand and turn into him, his chest feeling like the only safe haven you have at the moment. Your hands fist his shirt and tears soak into it.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me? Why did you call Jiyong!” you shout at your mom and your husband does his best to keep you calm.

“I didn’t want you to worry, she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, doctors said it was a result of the chemo and this morning she was better,” she tries to explain with tears in her eyes.

“Baby I never expected this to happen,” she lets a few tears slip but you’re too upset to care.

“So everyone got to know but me. Great.” You scoff in disbelief.

“She knew you loved her,” she says desperately as you grab your bag.

“She should’ve heard it from me,” you bite as you go to the front desk to ask about making preparations.

The nurse fills you in on the details, they’ll have the body frozen and sent to whatever funeral home you choose.

“Honey I can do this,” your mother pipes up.

“NO,” you shout gaining stares from the hospital staff.

“I will do it.” You say quietly.

“Jagi, whatever you want or whatever she wanted, I’ll pay for it, ok? Just do whatever would’ve made her happy.” He whispers to you as you get some paper work from the nurse. You nod and he presses a kiss to your temple.

You get to your home that night, walking in you see Hae sitting on the couch. Your body slumps.

“Seunghyun!” She sings, “I missed you, baby.” She throws you a nasty look as she breezes past you to hug him.

You roll your eyes, frustration with him slightly rising within you. He seriously couldn't tell his girlfriend not to come over for one stupid night?

“I’m going to bed,” you mumble as you race up the steps. The door slams behind you as you fall onto your bed, allowing all the emotions to come up. Screams, tears, body shakes and all. You beat your fist against the mattress as you scream into it.

Downstairs Hae is already pulling Seunghyun to the bedroom.

“Stop, Hae.” He pulls against her, earning a look of confusion.

“Not tonight,” he sighs. He knew this was coming, he just wasn’t sure how he wanted to deal with it.

“How did you find out I was even home?” He asks as he takes off his jacket.

“I called your team because you weren’t answering your phone and they said you were on a flight back.” She shrugs.

“So I used my key to get in and wait for you. After being with y/n I was sure you missed me.”

“She’s the reason I’m home,” he tries to explain to her.

“Figures, selfish bitch,” she spouts off, “can’t even think of your career,” she mumbles.

“Hey, watch your mouth! That’s my wife and you will not disrespect her!” He shouts. Hae takes a step back.

“She’s your FAKE wife!” she yells.

Upstairs you can hear the heated discussion and you step out onto the top of the steps, just out of sight. At least someone else was having problems now.

“Or do you not remember complaining to me night after night about how awful she is. How she’s so boring and annoying and you'd rather be dead than do this any longer?” Your heart aches in your chest at her words.

“How you hated her, hated her presence around you, how she was just a stuck up bitch who wanted you for your money. The endless times you’d come crawling to me to work out your frustrations.” She steps closer to him, laying her hand on his chest.

“She doesn’t love you, Seunghyun. She’s in a contract with you. There’s a difference.” Seunghyun, despite his best efforts, starts to question her words.

“I said all that before this happened,” he weakly defends.

“You still said it, and after one night with me, you’ll remember why.” Her smile is devious and calculated.

She leans up to whisper in his ear, “And if you don’t, then I’ll make sure the whole world knows your little secret.” She pulls him off to the direction of the downstairs bedroom and the door shuts.

Your heart shatters into pieces as you walk back to your bedroom. You let out an ear-piercing scream into your pillow.

No Jiyong.

No Seunghyun.

You’re on your own. Your body shakes, and you feel as though you could collapse in on yourself.

So much for trying in your relationship.

You need Seunghyun but he isn’t there. You need someone, but you’re too mad at Jiyong to even call him, despite all the times he tried calling you. You spend the night alone, your tears making a wet spot on the sheets. Your body weak and exhausted.

The darkness swallows you whole that night, you toss and turn unable to sleep. You slip on our slippers and pad down to the kitchen, who says you can’t drink at 1 in the morning?

You pour yourself a glass of wine, the house still.

“Wow, a dead sister and a drinking problem, huh?” you hear a snarky voice suddenly speak. You jump at the sudden intrusion before rolling your eyes.

“Fuck off, Hae.” You raise the glass to your lips, tasing the sweetly bitter beverage.

“Fuck you, bitch, I’ll do what I want in my house,” she folds her arms and smirks.

“This isn’t your house, but whatever.”

“Oh, sweetie, it is. My name’s on the deed.” Your heart skips a beat.

“What?”

She chuckles to herself.

“Yeah, well, mine and Seunghyun’s anyway, and that’s my wine you’re drinking so you can replace it when your through.” She smirks.

You smirk back at her as you take the rest of the wine and pour it back in the bottle. Backwash and all.

“No need, keep it.” She makes a disgusted face.

“God, how he could ever even pretend to love a girl like you.” You stare at her. Disbelief running through your veins. He never told you Hae’s name was on the deed, he never said this was her house.

“Baby, trust one thing, once Seunghyun’s done with this funeral business, he won’t need you. So you may as well keep your shit packed.”

“How do you know?” Your voice waivers but you can’t help it.

“Because what’s better for his image than a doting husband being there for his wife. Then due to tragedy his wife leaves because she just can’t handle the life anymore. Or they could say you had an affair because of your grief or something. Either way, this is the perfect excuse for him to get out of this stupid ordeal. So, I guess I have your sister to thank for dying. She’s giving me my man back.” Her smile is evil and she chuckles as she walks back down the hall to the bedroom.

You and Seunghyun walk into the funeral home, the air between you ice cold.

The funeral director starts showing you plans, but you’re barely there. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Thoughts of Jiyong come to mind, thoughts of what Seunghyun and Hae did and talked about come to mind, thoughts of your mother who hasn’t bothered to call or check in, thoughts of how you sister must have felt when you weren’t there and she couldn’t hold out any longer. Tears brim your eyes but Seunghyun’s hand on your thigh pulls you out of your head.

“Baby?” He asks with a questioning look.

“Huh, oh right,” you wipe the few escaping tears from your cheeks.

“I guess, I uh, gosh I don’t know,” you try to think back to what your sister wanted.

“I think her wish was to be buried.” You nod your head and the funeral director goes into the process, explaining everything that will happen, but once again, it’s muffled as you return to your head.

Back in the car, you both sit there silently.

“Do you want to talk or,” Seunghyun asks breaking the silence as he starts the car.

“Just take me to the Crown Park Hotel,” you mumble as you look out the window.

“Wait, what? You have a room at the house-,”

“I want to stay in the hotel!” Your voice snaps and Seunghyun’s lips part slightly as his brows shoot up on his face.

“The room is paid for so just take me there,” you cross your arms over your chest. Seunghyun pulls over and turns to look at you.

“Not without you talking to me,” he says. You scoff with a bitter laugh.

“Why the hell do you care. As soon as the ordeal is over you can be free. I’ll take the fucking blame, just get me to the damn hotel and get the hell away from me.” You shoot daggers at him.

“Woah, what are you talking about? I thought we were working on this,” he motions between you.

“So did I,” you say weakly.

“If you don’t drive me to the damn hotel, I’ll get out and walk.”

“Y/n, no,”

“No? Ha,” you laugh defiantly. You open the door and slam it behind you. Seunghyun watches as you round the car. He opens his door when he see’s you start to walk toward the busy street. He jogs up to you, taking you by the arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you yank your arm from him, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“I’ll drive you to the hotel, ok?” You walk back past him and get back in the car.

Seunghyun drops you off at the hotel, he doesn’t come in, he just watches you disappear inside. The place is nice, red carpeting, golden fixtures, very high end.

You’re sitting in the hotel room, the tv is on for background noise, staring at the ceiling.

You pick up the phone, seeing yet another three missed calls from Jiyong. You tap on the icon, briefly considering calling him. But there’s a knock on your door before you can do so.

You get up with a huff and slowly pad across the hardwood floor.

You open the door, your eyes growing wide at the face before you.

Jiyong.

Tags: @breakmeoff @ilovethe141 @tom-hollands-blog @tabibabib @gdgirl21 @thelovelybireader @hyunjifilm @bcfcpsh @patheticgirl127 @1950schick

Please do not repost my work

Covenant Masterlist

Part 7

Love notes, comments and requests are appreciated!

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squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame · 19 days ago

Note

(For every character that you write) HOW ARE THEY DURING YOUR PREGNANCY

Little Belly

Character: Hyunju, Thanos, namgyu, Gyeong-Seok, Young-Il, Gi-hun, Dae-Ho, Min-Su, Sang-Woo, Salesman

Gdragon, T.O.P., Daesung

Namjoon, Yoongi, Hope

Mingi, San

Kim Seo-Wan

Roh jae won, Gong yoo

Summary: Above✨️✨️

Warnings: none!

Hyunju

Hyun-Ju stirs from a nap on the couch, groggy and wrapped in the soft warmth of a throw blanket. The living room still smells faintly of chamomile tea and the gentle hum of the heater buzzes through the apartment like a lullaby. She blinks and stretches, careful not to overextend—her body is still healing, still sore, still learning its new rhythm. But she feels good. Better than she’s felt in years.

From the kitchen, you appear, glowing in that way she’s been obsessively noticing since you told her the news. Your belly is just beginning to show, a slight curve beneath your loose shirt. There’s a mug in your hand—decaf, of course—and you give her a smile that makes her feel like the luckiest woman alive.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you tease softly, settling beside her and tucking your legs beneath you. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” Hyun-Ju murmurs, brushing hair from her eyes. “Especially when I wake up to you.”

You chuckle, placing the mug on the coffee table before reaching for her hand. Your fingers intertwine like always—so natural, so right.

It still blows her mind that this is real. That just a few weeks ago, she was in the hospital for her bottom surgery, terrified but ready. And just a few weeks before that, you were holding her in the bathroom, shaking and speechless with a positive pregnancy test in your hand.

“I still can’t believe it,” she whispers, like the thought might float away if she says it too loud. “I’m going to be a mom. We’re going to be moms.”

You shift, guiding her hand gently to your stomach. “You already are.”

Her fingers tremble slightly as she rests them there, feeling nothing yet but knowing that inside, a tiny heartbeat is pulsing. A heartbeat that came from both of you. From love. From a moment before everything changed, before she stepped fully into herself

.“I was so scared I wouldn’t get to experience this,” she admits, voice cracking just a little. “To be a woman. To be a parent. To be loved like this.”

You lean your forehead against hers, heart full. “You deserve all of it, Hyun-Ju. Every beautiful, messy, magical part of it. Our kid’s going to grow up with two moms who love each other so much it spills out everywhere.”

Hyun-Ju smiles through her tears. “Do you think they’ll have your eyes?”

“Hopefully your stubbornness.”

“Hey!”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that leaves your ribs aching but your heart lighter. Outside, snow starts to fall gently. Inside, two soon-to-be moms are curled up on a couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, dreaming of the future.

And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel scary.

Thanos

You found him on the balcony again. Bent over the railing, shoulders tense, smoke curling from his lips like a confession he didn’t know how to make. You recognized the way his fingers shook—not from the cold, but from everything else. The little baggies, the pills under his tongue, the moments where his pupils blew wide and he suddenly had the energy to clean the entire apartment at 2 a.m. and then collapse an hour later like he hadn’t touched the floor in weeks.

You rested a hand on your swollen belly and leaned in the doorway.

“You said you’d be clean before the third trimester,” you murmured, not accusing. Just... tired.

Su-Bong didn’t turn around.

“I know,” he said, voice hoarse. “I know I said that.”

You waited.

Eventually, he tapped the joint out against the railing, flicked the remains into a glass of rainwater, and looked at you with bloodshot eyes that still managed to soften when they met yours.

“You okay?” he asked, gaze flicking to your belly like he could somehow talk to the baby through you.

You let out a breath. “I’m not the one getting high with a baby inside me.”

He winced, but didn’t argue. He never argued. That was part of what made it harder—he didn’t fight your words, just absorbed them like bruises he thought he deserved.

You stepped closer. “Do you even want to stop?”

A long pause. Too long.

“I want you,” he said finally. “I want this. The baby. The weird little life we’re building. But the drugs—” He rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated. “They’re... part of how I exist. I don’t know who I am without them.”

That stung more than you expected.You reached for his hand, pressed his fingers to the swell of your stomach. “You’re someone’s dad, Bong. Even if you don’t know how to be, you are.”

His throat bobbed. For a second, he looked like he might cry—but he didn’t. He kissed your temple instead, then rested his forehead against yours.

“I’ll try again,” he whispered. “But you have to know... I might always fall back.”

“I know.”

Namgyu

You found him slouched on the floor of the bathroom, eyes rolling back in his head, belt still tight around his arm. The faint glow of a spoon still warm under the flickering fluorescent light made your stomach churn.

“Nam-Gyu,” you whispered, pressing one hand to your belly like you could shield the baby from this somehow. “Not again.”

He didn’t look at you. Or maybe he couldn’t.

You knelt down beside him, ignoring the way your knees screamed from the pressure. “Hey. Look at me. You promised.”

That got a reaction. He flinched and smacked the wall behind him, blinking hard like he was trying to focus on your voice.

“I promised?” he slurred, laugh sharp and broken. “You think I control this shit? You think I’d choose this if I could stop?” His voice was rising, filling the cramped room, and suddenly he was standing, fast and swaying, grabbing the towel rack for balance.

You backed up on instinct, heart pounding. He’d never hit you. But that line felt thinner lately. He’d scream. Break things. Slam doors.

And the baby inside you kicked.

“I need it,” he muttered, pacing now, pulling at his shirt collar like it was choking him. “You don’t know what it’s like, walking around with a hole in your chest that never closes.”

“I do,” you said softly. “It’s shaped like you.”

That stopped him. For a second. He looked at you like he didn’t recognize your face. And then—just like that—he looked away again, like it hurt too much.

“You knew what I was when you let me put that baby in you,” he said, voice low and ugly.

You flinched.

“I know,” you whispered, tears slipping hot down your cheeks. “I just thought maybe—maybe we’d be enough. Me. The baby. That you’d want to try.”

He laughed again. Cold this time. “There’s no ‘enough’ in this game, sweetheart.”

You walked past him carefully, not looking back as you stepped into the hallway, where the nursery still smelled like fresh paint and hope. Where tiny clothes waited in drawers. Where the crib was half-built, a project he never finished.

You closed the door behind you.

And locked it.

Just for tonight.

Gyeong-Seok

You didn’t blame him.

Na-Yeon’s tiny hand had grown even smaller in the last few weeks. Her cheeks no longer held the chubby softness they once did. The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and lemon wipes, and you had grown used to the sight of your fiancé with his head bowed at her bedside, unmoving.

But still. The baby kicked.And no one noticed but you.

You stood by the doorway of the pediatric oncology ward, one hand cradling your round belly, the other clutching a thermos you brought for him. Warm broth. You didn’t know if he’d even drink it.

Gyeong-Seok barely looked at you these days. His dark eyes were hollow, his hands clumsy when you passed by. He hadn’t touched your stomach in weeks. He hadn’t asked about the next ultrasound. He hadn’t held you through the night.

Only Na-Yeon.

You couldn’t hate him for it. But you hated how invisible you felt.

---That night, back home, you cried silently into your pillow, muffling the sobs. The baby stirred again — strong, rhythmic kicks like it was trying to remind you: I’m here too. You pressed both hands over the swell of your stomach and whispered, “I know. I know, baby.”

You didn’t hear the door creak open until the bed dipped beside you.

Gyeong-Seok’s hand hovered awkwardly at your back. “You weren’t at the hospital tonight.”

You nodded, still facing away. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

A long silence followed. Then, quietly, “You’re not.”

You finally turned to him. “You haven’t asked me once how the baby is.”

His face crumpled like paper folding in on itself. “I know. I… I feel like I only have space in my head for one child right now. And she’s slipping away from me, Y/N. Every day.”

A tear ran down your cheek. “And what about the one growing inside me? Do I have to wait until they’re dying to get your attention?”

He flinched.

The silence hung like fog. Then, slowly, his hand reached out — tentative, shaking — and settled on your stomach.

A kick.

His breath hitched.

“…Was that…?” His eyes widened.You nodded. “They’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks.”

And finally, Gyeong-Seok broke. He bent over your belly, resting his forehead there, crying. Soft, broken sobs that soaked through your shirt.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so afraid. Of losing one. Of not being enough for either of them. Or for you.”

You laced your fingers through his hair. “Just be here. With us. Even if it’s messy. And Na-Yeon will get to meet her sibling. And she will be healthy and happy again.”

He nodded into your skin. “I will. Starting now.”

And that night, the baby kicked again — and both of you smiled.

Even as Na-Yeon fought her battle in the hospital bed miles away, there was a flicker of hope here. Of life refusing to be forgotten, With him, you, Na-Yeon and the little baby.-

Young-Il

You loved Young-Il.

You did. Even now, sitting on the couch with your hands resting on the curve of your belly, watching him double-check that all the windows were locked again, you loved him.

But it was getting harder to breathe.He turned around, eyes scanning your face like he was looking for a reason to worry. “You didn’t answer when I called earlier.”

“I was napping,” you said quietly. “You call five times a day now, Young-Il.”

He didn’t flinch. He just walked over and knelt in front of you, resting a hand on your knee and the other on your stomach like he always did now. “I just want to make sure nothing happens to you. Or the baby.”

His voice was soft, but his grip wasn’t.

You tried to smile. “We’re not glass, you know.”

“You’re close enough.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I wanted to go to the café down the street today. Just for an hour. Fresh air would be nice—”

“No.”

That sharp, immediate answer made your heart sting more than you wanted to admit.He stood up, jaw tight. “You can’t go wandering around by yourself anymore. Not now. What if you fall? What if someone bumps into you? You don’t know how many careless people are out there.”

You stared at him. “You used to love walking with me.”

“I still would—if you’d wait until I was free.” His voice cracked slightly, frustration layered under his fear. “But you keep trying to do everything alone. Like you don’t need me.”

Your eyes stung. “I do need you. But not like this.”

Young-Il stepped back, running a hand through his hair. He looked like he was unraveling. “I’ve already lost too much in my life. If something happened to you—if something happened to our child—I wouldn’t survive it.”

You rose slowly, your body heavy and aching, and wrapped your arms around him. He held onto you so tight it almost hurt.

“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered into his chest. “But you have to stop acting like love means control.”

His breath hitched.You felt him nod against your hair, but his arms didn’t loosen. Not yet.

Maybe tomorrow, they would.

Gi hun

(This made me cry oml)

The chair next to yours is empty again.

You don't blame him. You really don’t. Gi-hun has been through hell—more than anyone should ever have to survive. The Games didn’t just take people from him. They took parts of him. Pieces you sometimes feel like you’ll never get back, no matter how gently you love him.

You rub your belly as the technician glides the wand over your skin. “There’s the heartbeat,” she says softly.

And there it is. That fast, fluttering rhythm that’s half him and half you. You smile, but your eyes sting.

He promised he’d be here today.

The last time you saw Gi-hun was two days ago, when he brought you late-night seaweed soup in a plastic container and kissed the top of your head like he was afraid you might vanish. He said he needed to clear his head, just for a bit. Said he’d be back.

You know what "clear his head" means.

Another long walk. Another night sleeping on a bench by the Han River. Another quiet moment with his guilt.

He wants to be here. You know he does. But the man you love is drowning in invisible waves, and you’re both waiting to see if he’ll come up for air in time to be a father.

“Do you want a printout of the photo?” the technician asks.

You nod. When she hands it to you, you stare at the little bean on the screen and whisper, “That’s your daddy’s nose. Poor thing.”

When you get home, he's there.

Sitting on the couch with a bouquet of slightly wilted daisies. His eyes are red-rimmed. His hair messy. Like he sprinted all the way here once he realized he was late.

You don’t speak at first. Just stand there in the doorway, one hand on your stomach, the other holding the ultrasound photo.

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “I wanted to come. I—I tried.”

“I know.”

He looks at you like you’re a miracle he doesn't deserve. “I don’t know how to be okay. But I want to be. For you. For them.”

You walk to him slowly and press the photo into his hand. “That’s your baby,” you say. “They already have your nose.”

Gi-hun smiles, and it’s shaky, broken, but real.

You sit beside him, and for the first time in days, he lets you hold him. Your hands rest over his, over the photo, over the tiny heartbeat that keeps thudding along inside you—hopeful, relentless.

Maybe he’s not fully here yet.

But he’s trying.

Dae-Ho

Dae-Ho sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at the piece of paper in his hand. The worn edges of the envelope matched the strain of the year he'd spent apart from you. Every letter from you was a small lifeline, a connection to the world outside the walls of the military base, but this one felt different. His fingers trembled as he carefully unfolded it.

It was a simple letter, written in your familiar handwriting, but what caught his eye immediately was the ultrasound picture peeking out from the fold. He pulled it free, staring at the black and white image of your growing child. His heart squeezed painfully, and his breath caught in his throat. He wanted so desperately to be there with you, to feel the baby kicking against your belly, to be the one to hold your hand through this journey.

But instead, all he had was this—this letter that didn’t seem to be enough.

His eyes drifted to the blue card that had been tucked into the envelope. He read the words printed on the front: It’s a boy. His heart raced as he carefully opened the card, reading the message you had written. The words were simple, yet they struck him deeply.

"I wish you could be here with me, but I know you’re with us in spirit. He’s going to be so proud of you, just like I am."

A sob escaped his lips as the weight of it all hit him. You were carrying his child, and he wasn’t there to witness any of it. The guilt, the loneliness, the longing—all of it rushed through him in a torrent.

Dae-Ho stood up abruptly, the letter crumpling in his hand as he paced back and forth. He couldn't take it anymore. He had tried to push these feelings down, to convince himself that it was just a few more months, but seeing this ultrasound, seeing the proof that you were carrying his child and he wasn’t there—it was too much.

With a shaky breath, he stumbled into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and sank to his knees, the sound of his sobs echoing off the walls. He buried his face in his hands, trying to choke back the tears, but it was impossible. He missed you so much.

He missed the way you smiled when you looked at him, the way you would rest your head on his chest at night. He missed the way you laughed when he told you stories about his day, and he especially missed the way your belly had started to show, how your hands would rest gently on it as if protecting the little one growing inside.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to hear anything right now. He just needed to grieve, to let it all out. But when he pulled the phone out and saw the missed call from you, his heart skipped a beat.

He hit the call back button without thinking, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N?" "Hi, love," your voice came through the line, warm and comforting, even though he knew you couldn’t be there with him. "I miss you so much."

Dae-Ho’s breath hitched. "I miss you, too... I—I can’t stop crying."

"Why?" you asked gently.

"I should be there with you. With our son. I should be the one you lean on, not just these letters." His voice cracked, and he fought to regain control, but it was impossible.

"Hey," you said softly, "it’s okay to cry. I know you want to be here, and I want you here too. But you’re doing the hardest thing right now, and I admire you for it."

Dae-Ho let out a shaky breath. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I hate that I can’t be there."

"I don’t want you to apologize. I understand, and so does he." You paused, and for a moment, he could almost feel you right there beside him, reassuring him. "He’s going to know how much you love him. And I’ll make sure to tell him about his daddy every day."

A tear slipped down his cheek as he whispered, "I’ll be home soon. And when I am, I’ll be there for both of you, I promise."

"I know you will," you replied softly. "But for now, just take care of yourself. You’ve already given so much, and we’ll be here waiting for you when you come home."

Dae-Ho wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to pull himself together. "I love you, Y/N. So much. And I love our son."

"I love you too," you said, your voice filled with warmth. "We love you."

He closed his eyes, imagining you there, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of your touch through the phone. And in that moment, he found a little bit of peace amidst the ache in his chest. It wasn’t enough to ease the pain of being apart, but it was something—something to hold onto until he could be with you again.

He hung up the phone with a deep breath, the crumpled letter still clutched in his hand. He placed it on the bathroom counter, next to the ultrasound picture and the blue card. For now, it was enough. It had to be.And he would hold onto that feeling, that promise, until he could finally come home to you and their son.

Min su

It was a quiet afternoon when Min-Su sat beside you on the couch, his hands nervously fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. The two of you had been together for years now, but there was something different in the air today—something softer, a little more tender.

You could feel your baby kicking lightly against your stomach, a small flutter that always brought a smile to your face. Your hand instinctively moved to your belly, rubbing gently. Min-Su glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his face flushed a soft pink. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to proceed.

"Min-Su?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity. You'd noticed his hesitation ever since you’d started showing, but you hadn't said anything. Now, the silence between you two felt heavier than usual.

He shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze. "I... I don't know what to do," he confessed, his voice almost inaudible.

You tilted your head, confused. "What do you mean?"

Min-Su took a deep breath, then finally met your eyes. "I want to... I want to be close to you and the baby. But I feel like... like I might hurt you or... I don't know." His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, a clear sign of his anxiety.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you reached out, gently placing your hand on his. "Min-Su, you're not going to hurt me. You could never hurt me."

You guided his hand toward your belly, a soft warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him finally touching the little life growing inside of you.

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over your bump. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he placed his hand gently against your stomach. You could see the way his eyes softened, the nerves still present but slowly giving way to something more comforting.

"She's kicking," you whispered, your voice full of affection. "You can feel it."

Min-Su’s face lit up with a mixture of awe and disbelief, his hand pressing just a little firmer against your bump. "I can feel her," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She's... so strong."

You nodded, feeling the small movements beneath your skin. "Yeah. She's getting stronger every day.

"Min-Su sat there in silence, his hand resting against your belly as the two of you shared this quiet moment. His shyness hadn't gone away completely, but he no longer seemed afraid. He was simply present, in the way only Min-Su could be.

"I never thought I’d get to do this," he said softly, almost as if to himself.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with love. "We’re in this together, Min-Su. Always."

Sangwoo

Sang-Woo had always been a man of few words. He was practical, composed, and maintained a certain distance, especially when it came to emotions. You loved him for his quiet strength, but there were times when his stoicism left you feeling unsure, even when you knew deep down that his feelings ran deeper than he let on.

Now, as your pregnancy progressed, those moments of uncertainty seemed to grow. His eyes would flicker to your growing belly, but he rarely spoke about it. Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you, his face a mask of calm, but the slight tension in his jaw and the way he pressed his lips together left you feeling uneasy.

You had always wanted a family, and at first, the idea of being pregnant with his child had filled you with excitement. But as the weeks went by, you started to question whether Sang-Woo shared the same excitement or if he simply saw this as another responsibility he had to shoulder.

It was late one evening when the feeling reached its peak. You were sitting on the couch, absentmindedly stroking your stomach as you watched the rain pour outside. Sang-Woo was across from you, looking at his phone, the silence between you thick and uncomfortable.

"Are you... happy about this?" The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, and your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t meant to voice your fears, but now they hung in the air, undeniable.

Sang-Woo glanced at you, his expression unreadable, before returning to his phone. His lack of response felt like a weight pressing down on you.

"I know you don’t say much about it," you continued, trying to keep your voice steady, "but sometimes... I feel like you don’t want this. You don’t want the baby. You don’t want me like this."

The silence that followed was deafening. Sang-Woo finally set his phone down and met your gaze, his eyes dark, unreadable, but there was a flicker of something there—something that felt like guilt.

"I...," he started, but his voice faltered. He looked away, his hand running through his hair in frustration. "I’m not good at this," he admitted quietly, his tone unusually soft.

You blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. "Good at what?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "Good at being a father? Good at being there for me?"

Sang-Woo let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Good at... showing what I feel. I never learned how to do that. It’s not... it’s not that I don’t want this." His words were careful, like he was weighing each one before speaking. "I just... don’t know how to be what you need right now. I don’t know how to be the person you want me to be."

The vulnerability in his words made your heart ache. You had never heard him speak like this, and it caught you off guard.

"I don’t need you to change who you are, Sang-Woo," you said softly, your eyes filling with tears. "I just need you to be here. To show me that you’re in this with me. That we’re in this together."

Sang-Woo’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might retreat back into his shell. But then he stood up, walking over to you. His large hands gently cupped your face, his touch warm and reassuring.

"I’m here," he murmured, his voice low but firm. "I’m not good at showing it, but I’m here. I want this baby. I want... us. But I need you to understand that I don’t know how to be perfect at it. I don’t know how to give you everything you need, but I will try. I will... try for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you looked up at him, seeing the raw honesty in his eyes. He wasn’t perfect. He never would be. But he was trying. And in that moment, you realized that was all you really needed. You nodded, a small, tearful smile forming on your lips. "I just need you to try, Sang-Woo. That’s enough."

He hesitated for a moment before pulling you into his arms, holding you close as if you might slip away if he didn’t. "I’ll try," he whispered into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. "I’ll try."

And in that moment, you knew that even though Sang-Woo might never be the man you imagined, he was still the one who would stand by your side, even in the quietest of ways.

Salesman

It was well past 3 a.m. when you returned home from the 24-hour CU convenience store, carrying a small bag of fresh strawberries. The street was quiet, the moon hanging low in the sky, and the cool air felt crisp against your skin. You’d had a craving, a need for the sweet, juicy fruit, and there was no way you were going to sleep without them.

As you approached the door to your apartment, you fumbled for your keys. That’s when you noticed a strange shadow near the living room window. Your heart skipped a beat. Your hands froze mid-motion. You stepped back, trying to peer through the slightly cracked blinds, but all you could make out was a figure standing in the dark.

You inhaled sharply, your mind racing. The house felt oddly still. Too still. You had expected the salesman, your boyfriend Gong Yoo, to be at home, but you weren’t sure what was going on in the moment of half-conscious panic.

The door creaked open. Then, without warning, a loud bang rang out, followed by a sharp, searing pain across your shoulder. You gasped, stumbling back, clutching your side.

“W-What?” you choked, eyes wide as you looked up.

From the dim shadows, Gong Yoo appeared, his eyes wide with alarm. “No, no! Y/N, what are you doing?! Why didn’t you call out?”

“Gong Yoo—” you hissed, dropping the strawberries to the floor as you cradled your bleeding shoulder.

He rushed to you, his heart racing. "I thought you were a burglar!" His hands trembled as he gently inspected your wound. "I didn’t think—I mean, I thought you were breaking in! I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you!" His voice cracked with panic as he helped you sit down on the couch, dabbing at the wound with a nearby cloth.

You winced but couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “A burglar? At 3 a.m., with strawberries?”

"I—I'm sorry," Gong Yoo said, his voice a mix of concern and guilt. "I thought I heard something outside, and I panicked. I thought someone was sneaking in." His hand shook as he tried to keep pressure on the wound.

You chuckled weakly, despite the pain. "Well, if you didn’t hear my footsteps, maybe the sound of a crinkling plastic bag would’ve tipped you off."

“I’m an idiot," he muttered, his eyes wide with worry as he gently traced your shoulder. "I didn’t even stop to think. You’re... you’re pregnant. I should’ve been more careful."

“Gong Yoo...” you whispered softly, looking up at him as he leaned over you, worry still etched on his face. "It’s okay. I'm fine. But next time... maybe just ask who’s at the door before you shoot anyone."

“I swear, I’m not going to live this down, am I?” he sighed, his voice softer as he continued to check on your shoulder.

“No,” you replied with a small smirk, “you won’t.”

The tension slowly began to ease, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Gong Yoo placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand resting gently over your stomach, as though trying to assure both you and the baby that everything was okay now. You could tell he was still processing what had just happened, the fear and guilt still weighing heavily on him.

“I’ll make this up to you,” he promised, his tone more serious now. "Anything you need. I’ll make it right."

"Start by getting me some bandages," you teased, holding back a smile. "Then we can deal with the rest tomorrow."

As he rushed off to fetch the first aid kit, you sighed, relieved despite the strange circumstances. With Gong Yoo, you always knew there was never a dull moment—though you hoped next time, the surprises wouldn’t be quite so... dramatic.

Gdragon

The soft hum of a lullaby played quietly in the background, filling the room with a calm that you hadn't felt in months. G-Dragon, or Ji-Yong as you called him when it was just the two of you, was lounging lazily on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His head rested on the armrest, and his eyes flicked between you and the screen.

You sat on the floor, a cozy blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you sorted through baby clothes. The little onesies were tiny and sweet, their colors soft and inviting. Every now and then, you’d glance over at Ji-Yong, who was now intently focused on a text message that had come through.

“Who’s that from?” you asked, your voice light but teasing. The curiosity was there, of course, but you weren’t jealous. You trusted him completely, and besides, the look of soft amusement on his face gave you all the answers you needed.

“Just the guys,” he said, tossing the phone to the side. “I was supposed to be meeting them tonight, but then I remembered I have this.” He reached for your hand, lifting it gently to his lips. He kissed your wrist, where the growing bump of your pregnancy was becoming more obvious by the day.

“Don’t you need to work? The album… the tour…” You trailed off, feeling a little guilty.

You knew how much the world had been waiting for him to return, how his fans loved him, but there was also something incredibly special about this time. His priorities had shifted. “I need to work, but this little one and you? You’re my priority now.”

Ji-Yong’s eyes softened, his usual cool demeanor replaced with the warmth that made you feel like the luckiest person on Earth. You couldn’t help but smile. “I think this one’s already spoiled, huh?”

“I think they’re already spoiled with love,” he said, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring the comfort of being with him. The rush of his touch, his closeness, and the knowledge that he would be there for every step of this new chapter in your lives made everything else fade away.

Suddenly, you felt a little nudge against your side. It was the baby. A kick. A reminder that, soon, there would be a little person in your arms, and Ji-Yong’s world would change forever.

"Did you feel that?" you asked softly, eyes wide with surprise. Ji-Yong’s gaze immediately turned tender. He placed his hand on your belly, waiting patiently for another sign of life. After a few moments, a little flutter came, causing his face to light up. "I felt that," he said, his voice low with awe.

You both sat in silence, his hand resting against the bump, both of you lost in the reality of what was happening. The world could wait. The studio could wait. Right now, there was nothing more important than this moment. Your little family.

G-Dragon smiled to himself. “I’m going to be the best dad in the world,” he said, almost to himself.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, glancing at him with a playful smirk. “I’m the one who’s going to need to learn the ropes.”

Ji-Yong chuckled, his hand moving to gently cup your face. “Don’t worry. We’ll learn together.”

The music played softly, a lullaby to remind you of the tiny person growing inside. There was no rush, no deadlines, no frantic schedule. Just you, him, and the future unfolding in a little bundle of joy. And for now, that was enough.

T.o.p

The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. You sat on the couch, cradling your swollen belly with both hands, watching the flickering light on the walls as you waited for T.O.P. to come home. The last few months had been a rollercoaster of emotions, mostly centered around the baby you were expecting, but also around him—his moods, his distance, and the secret weight he carried.

T.O.P. had been smoking again.At first, it was just an occasional thing. He’d been stressed, overwhelmed by the pressure of his career and the world watching his every move. But over time, it had become more frequent, more of a crutch he couldn’t seem to let go of. You understood, in a way—you knew he carried heavy burdens—but the worry gnawed at you, especially now, when there was more at stake than just his well-being. There was your baby, your future.

You tried not to confront him too harshly, but every time he smoked, it felt like a silent, insidious barrier grew between the two of you. And now, the heaviness in the air was palpable.

You heard the familiar click of the front door unlocking, the sound of his steps slowly making their way down the hallway. Your heart raced, unsure if tonight would be different.

When T.O.P. appeared in the doorway, his eyes were already distant. He didn’t meet your gaze right away, instead running a hand through his tousled hair as if deep in thought.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, your voice carrying a warmth you hoped would draw him in.

He looked up, and for a moment, you saw the man you knew—the soft glint in his eyes, the slight curve of his lips. But it was fleeting. He didn’t speak right away, only stepped forward and slumped onto the couch beside you, his posture hunched.

"How was your day?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light, to give him an opening.T.O.P. sighed deeply, leaning back and rubbing his temple. “Same as usual. Busy... overwhelming.” He paused before muttering, "But it’s fine."

You knew it wasn’t. The distance between you felt heavier every day, and you were desperate to bridge it before it became too much to handle. “T.O.P., we need to talk.”

His gaze flickered over to you briefly, but it was like he was looking through you, not at you. You saw the small tremor in his hand as he reached for his pocket, pulling out a half-rolled joint, his thumb running over it nervously.

“Not again, please,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. You wanted to be understanding, but the frustration was beginning to bubble to the surface. “You promised me you were going to quit. We’re having a baby, T.O.P. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

His eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "I’m doing this for myself," he shot back, his voice sharp. "I need something to escape. Can’t you see that? The pressure is too much. I can’t breathe with it all around me."

“I know,” you whispered, reaching for his hand, but he pulled it away, running his fingers through his hair again. “I get it. But I need you. We need you here, whole, with us.” Your eyes searched his face, pleading, wanting him to understand that you weren’t just worried about him—you were worried about the family you were about to bring into this world.

He looked down at the joint in his hand, then back at you. His face softened, but there was something tragic in his expression. “I know I’ve let you down. But I can’t seem to stop, Y/N. It’s like I’m drowning, and this is the only thing that keeps me afloat, even for just a little while.”

You felt a pang in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. You could see how torn he was, the internal battle playing out in his eyes. But there was something you couldn’t ignore—his addiction was starting to affect more than just his well-being. It was affecting your relationship. Your future.

“I love you,” you said softly, placing your hand over your belly, where the baby kicked gently. “But I need you to be here. For me. For us. This baby is going to need all of you... and so do I.”

T.O.P.’s eyes flickered down to your hand on your stomach, and for a moment, the façade broke. His eyes softened, and the weariness of his addiction was laid bare in his face.

“I... I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice low. “But I don’t know how to stop, Y/N. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You took a deep breath, fighting back tears. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, that the road ahead would be long and full of challenges. But you also knew one thing for sure: you weren’t going to give up on him, on the man you loved, no matter how hard it got.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, pulling him into a tight embrace. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Together.”

T.O.P. rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone.

Daesung

It’s 11:42 p.m. when you whisper, half-embarrassed, “Babe… I want banana milk. Like, now.”

Daesung barely opens one eye before he breaks into that boyish grin of his. “Banana milk?” he says, already sitting up. “Anything else, my queen?”

You hum, sheepish. “Maybe shrimp chips too?”Daesung presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Done. Be right back.”

He’s already pulling on his sweats and hoodie—no complaints, no groans. Just that same wide smile he’s been wearing since the day you showed him the positive test.

---He comes back ten minutes later, arms full like he robbed the convenience store.

“Banana milk,” he announces proudly. “Shrimp chips. Chocolate pudding. A stuffed duck because it made me think of you. And… baby socks! They had a baby aisle, how could I resist?”

You laugh so hard you almost cry. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely in love,” he corrects, gently rubbing your swollen belly.

---Every night, his hands find your aching back and swollen feet. And somehow, he knows exactly where to press, always so gentle. "My poor baby," he murmurs as he massages, kissing your shoulder, "You're doing all the hard work. Let me take care of you."

On Saturdays, he’s dragging you to baby stores, a whole checklist in his hands, even though you only came for one thing. “We need the diaper caddy with compartments,” he insists, holding up a pastel blue organizer like it’s holy.

You don’t argue. Not when he’s beaming like that.

---The nursery slowly becomes a little wonderland—hand-painted stars on the ceiling, a bookshelf already filled with fairytales and picture books. “The baby has to love reading,” he says. “Like you.”

And the baby name list?

Oh, the name list.

It started as a neat little note in your phone. Now it’s a chaotic doc with Daesung’s random 3 a.m. additions:

- Moonbeam (???)

- Tofu (no.)

- Peach Blossom (…daesung.)

- Skyler Sparkle (STOP.)

- Jellybean (you’re lucky you’re cute.)

Still, every time you shoot him a look, he just shrugs with that blinding grin. “Hey, I’m just trying to give our baby options.”

---One night, curled against his chest as he hums softly to your belly, you whisper, “You’re going to be the best dad.”

He kisses your hair and smiles, still tracing lazy circles on your skin. “I just want you both to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I ever want.”

And in that little quiet moment, with your heart full and the baby kicking softly between you, you know: you already are.

Namjoon

(he's in military)

The night was quiet, save for the low hum of the fan and the steady ticking of the wall clock. You shifted in bed, one hand resting on your belly, the other holding your phone to your ear.

“Can you hear me okay?” Namjoon’s voice came through, a little staticky but warm. Familiar.

“Mm-hmm. Loud and clear, soldier,” you teased softly, your voice thick with emotion.

He chuckled on the other end, the sound like a balm to your aching chest. “How’s my little universe doing? Both of you.”

You glanced down at the swell of your belly. “Your daughter’s been practicing her kickboxing again. I think she knows your voice. She moved the second you said something.

”A pause. You heard him exhale—slow, shaky. “I hate not being there,” he admitted. “Every time I picture you at that check-up or falling asleep alone, it’s like this... weight in my chest. I just want to hold you.”

You closed your eyes. “Me too. But hearing you now—it helps. It really helps, Joon.”

Silence stretched between you, thick but comforting.

“I wrote a letter,” he said suddenly. “They might give me time next week to video call, but just in case, I wanted you to have something real. Something to read when she kicks too hard or you feel like crying.”

You smiled, tears gathering. “You always think of everything.”

“I’m trying,” he murmured. “I want her to know that even if I’m not there at every moment, I love her. And you. So damn much.”

“She’ll know,” you whispered. “Because I’ll tell her. Every single day.”

Another pause.

“Can you do something for me?” he asked, voice low.

“Anything.”

“Put the phone close to your belly.”

You adjusted it, holding the speaker just above your bump.

“I love you,” he said, voice cracking. “I love you, little one. Appa’s gonna come home soon, and I’ll read to you and hold you and fall asleep next to you and Mommy every night. Just hang in there a little longer, okay?”

The baby kicked again, strong and sure.

You laughed through your tears. “She heard you.”

“I’ll write again tomorrow,” Namjoon promised. “Goodnight, my love. Kiss her for me.”

“I will. And Namjoon?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. Come home to us.”

“I will. No matter what.”

Yoongi

You were almost asleep when it happened again.

A sharp little kick against the inside of your belly had you groaning and shifting under the blanket. You reached down, resting your hand on the bump, rubbing small circles as if you could soothe the tiny dancer inside.

Yoongi stirred beside you. “Kicking again?” he mumbled, voice gravelly from sleep.

“Like clockwork,” you said with a soft laugh. “I think she’s plotting to keep us awake for the next 18 years.”

Yoongi turned over to face you fully, eyes barely open but his hand instinctively reaching out to join yours on your belly. “She gets it from you. You’re the dramatic one.”

You gasped. “Excuse you! You’re the one who almost cried when we ran out of your favorite ramen.”

He scoffed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “That was a legitimate crisis.”

You laughed, head resting back against the pillow. His hand stayed warm over yours, both of you feeling the little thumps beneath your skin. She kicked again, and Yoongi’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“Whoa,” he whispered. “That was a strong one.”

“She’s going to be a dancer,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “Or a drummer.”

Yoongi leaned in and kissed your temple. “I wouldn’t mind that. A little musician running around here.”

“You’ll have to share your studio,” you teased.He gave a mock sigh. “Fine. But only if she promises not to touch my limited edition vinyls.”

“She’s not even born yet and you’re already making deals with her.”

He grinned lazily and gently pressed his lips to your bump. “You hear that, baby? Appa says no touching the vinyl.”

She kicked again in reply, as if answering him directly.

Yoongi laughed softly, pressing another kiss against you. “We’re doomed.”

“You love it,” you whispered, half-asleep now.

“Yeah,” he murmured, resting his forehead gently against you. “I really do.”

The room went quiet again, filled only with the soft hum of the heater and the rhythm of your breathing. Yoongi stayed there, one arm around you, the other still resting on your belly. Every time she kicked, his smile grew a little more.

Jhope

J-Hope’s energy filled the room, as usual. He was bouncing around, practically glowing as he set up a cozy corner in your shared living room. The soft music from the speakers added to the peaceful atmosphere, and your heart swelled with love as you watched him.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his eyes filled with concern as he crouched down to place the baby’s tiny clothes in the basket.

His hands, so careful and precise, smoothed over the fabric, though his own energy made the simple task seem like an excited dance. You rested your hand on your swollen belly, smiling softly. "I’m fine, babe. Just tired. You’re so cute when you’re excited."

J-Hope's face lit up, his dimples deepening as he flashed you a wide grin. "I’m just so ready to meet our baby. I can’t wait to see what they're gonna be like! I hope they have your eyes," he said with a laugh, his eyes already sparkling with love. He sat beside you on the couch, gently lifting your feet onto his lap as he massaged them. His touch was so tender, so caring, and it made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

"You know," he started, eyes locking onto yours, "I’m gonna be the best dad, right? I'm already planning how to teach our baby how to dance."

You laughed, the sound so genuine it filled the room. "I’m sure they’ll love it."

J-Hope winked at you, then leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"They’ll probably be a little dancer just like me. But even if they’re not, I’ll be proud of them."

His hands rested on your belly now, his warmth spreading through you as he whispered, "I can’t wait for us to be a family. Just you, me, and our little one."

Mingi

Mingi could tell you were exhausted. You had barely made it through dinner, letting your head rest on the table as you tried to will yourself not to fall asleep in front of him. He, on the other hand, was full of energy—too much energy for your tired body to keep up with.

“Y/N,” he whined, his voice low and soft. “Come on, baby, just a little attention, please?”

You let out a tired sigh, your eyelids heavy as you tried to push yourself up. But the ache in your back and the weight of your belly made it so much harder than it used to be. “Mingi... I’m so tired,” you muttered, your voice thick with exhaustion.

Mingi leaned down, brushing his lips over your temple, his hand gently rubbing your swollen belly. “I know, I know, but I just need you right now,” he murmured, nipping at your ear as his hand slid down to your side.

His words were teasing, and there was something in the way he touched you—gentle, but insistent—that made your heart race. You knew what he wanted, but your body was so drained, the idea of moving or being even the slightest bit more active felt impossible.

But Mingi wasn’t giving up that easily. “Please, baby, you know I’ve been waiting all day,” he whined again, voice cracking with need. He nuzzled your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Just let me love you, even if you’re tired.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. You didn’t have the energy to do much of anything, except let him tug you gently into his arms. He settled you back onto the couch, his hands roaming over your tired body, whispering sweet nothings that only made you feel more worn out.

But there was something about his needy tone, his insistence that made you weak in the knees. Even exhausted, you couldn't deny the pull of his touch, the way he made you feel loved and wanted, despite how tired you were.

“You're such a tease, Mingi,” you whispered, finally giving in as you slid your hand into his hair, tugging him closer. Mingi smirked, his lips brushing against yours as he kissed you deeply, the softness of his touch a stark contrast to the desperation in his voice. "I can’t help it," he murmured against your lips. "You’re my everything. And I need you now, tired or not."

San

It had been a whirlwind few months. Your pregnancy was now at its halfway point, and though the days were filled with excitement, they were also filled with curiosity. You and San had been talking about the baby constantly, making plans and imagining what your little one would be like. But there was one thing you both couldn’t decide—whether you were expecting a little boy or a girl.

That’s when San came up with the idea for a gender reveal party.

"We could just have a small gathering with close friends and family," San suggested one evening, his hands gently resting on your growing belly. "It’ll be fun to finally know, and everyone can celebrate with us."

You smiled at the thought. "That sounds perfect."

The day of the party came, and you were feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Your close friends, including the members of ATEEZ, were all gathered in the cozy living room of your apartment. Decorations were scattered around—blue and pink balloons, a table covered in sweet treats, and a huge sign reading "He or She? What Will It Be?" with a countdown clock ticking down to the big moment.

San, ever the charmer, had been pacing back and forth in anticipation. He looked absolutely radiant in his casual outfit, but there was a nervous excitement in his eyes that you couldn’t help but love.

"Are you sure you want to do it this way?" you asked, as you held onto his arm.

"Of course!" He flashed you a smile, though you could tell he was just as nervous as you. "I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they find out."

Your friends chatted and mingled, the room buzzing with energy. Finally, the moment arrived. San took your hand, leading you to the front of the room, the lights dimmed to heighten the suspense. He stood next to you, radiating confidence despite the tension that lingered in the air.

"You ready?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, squeezing his hand tighter. "Let’s do it."

With a dramatic pause, San pulled out a large black box from behind him. Everyone turned their attention to it, and your heart began to race in anticipation. The box held the secret—the reveal of your baby’s gender.

"Here we go!" San announced, grinning widely as he opened the box.

Inside, a small, heart-shaped balloon floated to the ceiling. It was... pink. You gasped, your eyes wide with joy.

"It’s a girl!" San exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. The room erupted into cheers and applause, and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. Your baby, your little girl, was on her way.

San pulled you into his arms, lifting you off your feet in a sweet hug, his face full of happiness and excitement. "A little princess," he murmured softly in your ear, his voice full of love. "I can’t believe it. I’m so lucky."

You giggled, resting your head on his chest. "We’re both lucky, San."

Your friends swarmed around you, offering congratulations and sharing in your joy. San couldn’t keep his hands off your belly, gently caressing it as he talked excitedly about the future. You both shared a glance, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

The party continued into the evening, with laughter, dancing, and everyone celebrating the news. But amidst all the excitement, you couldn’t help but focus on one thing—your future with San and the little girl you would both raise together.

And as the night ended, with everyone heading home and the decorations still up, you and San sat down on the couch, a soft silence settling between you.

"I can't wait to meet her," San said, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled, leaning into him as you placed your hands over your belly. "Neither can I."

Kim seo wan

The hospital room was quiet, save for the soft beeping of machines. You sat by Seo-wan’s side, your hand gently resting on his, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a reality you could barely keep hold of. His eyes, when they weren’t clouded with confusion, would flicker with brief flashes of recognition, but for the most part, he was lost in a world of dragons and fantasy—far away from the love you once shared.But you weren’t going to leave. You couldn’t. Not with the baby growing inside you, the baby he had helped create.

“Seo-wan?” You spoke gently, waiting for his eyes to meet yours. When they did, you saw the familiar glint of recognition buried beneath the fog of his mind. He blinked, then smiled faintly.

“Do I know you?” His voice was soft, almost childlike, as if he had forgotten, just for a moment, the life the two of you had built together.

“Of course you do,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “Im your girlfriend. And i know you dont remeber but we have a little babg on the way.”

The words hung in the air, and for a second, his expression flickered—uncertain. And then it happened. A look of pure joy spread across his face, and before you knew it, Seo-wan was sitting up in his bed, his hands reaching out to gently touch your swollen belly.

“You’re… pregnant?” he asked, a huge grin spreading across his face as his eyes met yours with the kind of wonder you hadn’t seen in months. “Our baby?”

You nodded, smiling widely. “Yes, Seo-wan..aaand its actually a little boy in there.”

He laughed, an adorable, almost childlike laugh that sent a rush of warmth through your heart. “How did I get so lucky?” His hands hesitantly pressed against your belly, as if trying to feel the life inside you, his eyes shining with awe. "I have a baby dragon warrior in there...?”

Your chest tightened with emotion, but you smiled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Yes love, you'll meet him in a few months”

He grinned wider, his joy infectious, and without a second thought, he jumped to his feet—stumbling slightly as if he hadn’t quite figured out how to use his body again. “This is amazing! I’m going to be a trainer!” He spun around, laughing like a child who had just been given the greatest gift in the world.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He looked so carefree, so innocent in that moment, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from his shoulders. “Yes, you’re going to be a father and a trainer. And you’re going to be a great one.”

Seo-wan stopped spinning and looked at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “How did I aquire you?” he asked, shaking his head as if he couldn’t fathom it. “I don’t have high enough level for you...You’r such a faire maiden. And now… we’re going to have a baby knight.”

You felt your heart swell with love. “You aquired me with your great charm, Seo-wan. You’ve always been on my level. Even when things were hard, even when you forget me at times, I knew this was where home is. With you.”

He looked at you, his face softening, and he took your hand in his, holding it gently, like a treasure he couldn’t bear to lose. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how..., but I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I always will.”

Roh jae won

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where time seemed to slow down. Roh Jae-Won sat on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, his eyes glued to his phone. You were in the kitchen, attempting to make something simple for lunch, though every time you reached up or bent down, a sharp discomfort reminded you of the weight in your belly.

You had just begun stirring the soup when Jae-Won’s voice floated in from the living room, playful but tinged with concern.

"Are you okay in there?" he asked, his tone light yet thoughtful. He could always sense when something was off, even in the smallest way.

You smiled, though you knew he wouldn't be fooled. "I’m fine, just a little tired."

He didn't miss the hesitation in your voice. Setting his phone down, Jae-Won stood up and padded into the kitchen, his soft steps barely making a sound. He stopped behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders, gently massaging.

"Are you sure?" His voice was warm, full of the quiet affection he always showed you. "You’ve been on your feet a lot lately."

You let out a soft sigh, the familiar weight of pregnancy pressing on your back and making every movement feel just a little more difficult. "I’m just... tired," you admitted, turning your head to look at him, your hand instinctively resting on your swollen belly.

Jae-Won’s face softened as his hand instinctively reached to hold yours, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach. "I know it’s been tough, but I can help with things around here. You shouldn’t push yourself too hard."

You tried to protest, but the sincerity in his eyes made it hard to do so. "I don’t want to be a burden..."

He interrupted with a gentle laugh. "You could never be a burden to me." He leaned in and kissed your forehead, his hand still resting on your belly. "We’re in this together, remember?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. "I remember." Just then, your stomach gave a little lurch, and you both froze. You felt the gentle flutter of the baby moving, and instinctively, you placed your hand over your belly. A soft, tender smile spread across your face as you looked at Jae-Won. "The baby just kicked."

Jae-Won’s eyes lit up in surprise, and he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands carefully resting on your stomach. He was never this emotional, but in this moment, with you carrying both his child and all his hopes for the future, he felt everything more deeply than he’d ever imagined.

"Can I feel?" he asked quietly, his voice shaky with emotion.

You nodded, and he gently placed his hands on the roundness of your belly. There was a small moment of stillness, and then it happened again—the baby kicked. Jae-Won’s face lit up like a child at Christmas, his fingers pressing a little harder to feel the movement. His grin was so wide, you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Wow," he whispered. "This is... amazing."

"I’m glad you think so," you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

He leaned his forehead against your belly for a moment, closing his eyes, overwhelmed with love and the weight of this new chapter in your lives. He had always wanted to be a great partner, but now, he was going to be a father. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet, except that it scared him in the best way.

Jae-Won pulled back after a moment, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling. "I think we're going to be great at this."

You smiled warmly, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. "I know we will."

He stood up, his hands gently brushing over your shoulders as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, his head resting against yours.

"We’ve got this," he whispered, as if the words were more for him than for you, reassuring himself as much as you. And in that quiet moment, surrounded by love, you both knew that this was only the beginning.

Gong yoo/Gong Ji cheol

It had been a few months since you found out about the little one growing inside you, and every day with Gong Ji-Cheol felt more magical than the last. The way he held your hand so gently, the way he whispered sweet words to you every morning, and the way his eyes would light up when he felt the baby kick—it was all so heartwarming.

You were now in the middle of your pregnancy, your belly rounded and undeniably obvious, and Ji-Cheol had been doing everything he could to take care of you. His attention to detail was remarkable, and the moment you felt any discomfort, he was there by your side, ready to make things easier for you.

It was a cozy Saturday morning, the sun streaming through the curtains of your living room. Ji-Cheol was sitting on the couch, his head resting against the armrest, eyes closed, but he was never far from you. You were curled up beside him, one hand resting on your swollen belly, the other gently stroking your hair.

"How are you feeling today?" Ji-Cheol asked, his voice soft, as though afraid to disturb the peaceful moment you were both sharing.

"I’m good," you said, smiling as you looked at him. "Just a little tired, but nothing I can't handle."

He grinned, reaching over to touch your belly, his fingers brushing over the bump. "You sure? I think the little one is growing at an alarming rate."

You chuckled softly, pressing your hand to his. "Don’t remind me," you joked. "I can already feel them kicking around in there."

Ji-Cheol’s eyes softened, and he shifted closer, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it. "I can't wait to meet them," he murmured, his voice low with emotion. "I can't believe we’re going to be parents."

A rush of warmth spread through you at his words. "It’s a bit overwhelming sometimes, but I’m excited too."

He laughed softly, his eyes twinkling. "It’s going to be an adventure, isn’t it? But we’ll figure it out together. Just like we always do."

Your heart fluttered as you rested your head on his shoulder. Gong Ji-Cheol was the type of person who made everything seem so much easier, no matter how complicated life got. His unwavering support was a constant in your life, and now, with the baby on the way, you knew that he would be the best partner and father anyone could ask for.

The baby kicked again, this time stronger, and Ji-Cheol’s eyes widened with excitement. "Did you feel that?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You nodded, grinning as you placed his hand on your belly. "Right here."

His expression softened as he felt the tiny movement. "It’s amazing… I can’t believe there’s actually someone in there."

"I know," you replied, looking at him with love in your eyes. "It’s surreal."

Ji-Cheol leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead. "No matter what happens, I promise you, we’ll do this together. I’m here for you, every step of the way."

Your heart swelled with affection for him. You had always known he was a good person, but seeing the love and care he had for both you and your baby made you fall for him all over again.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You and the baby mean everything to me."

As the day went on, you found comfort in the simple moments, in the quiet assurance that you were building something beautiful together. And with Ji-Cheol by your side, you knew you would face the challenges of parenthood with strength, love, and endless support.

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theformulaimagines · 2 months ago

Text

Untitled. 2017 [part 1]

Time will go by, and you'll forget all that was between you and me, you and me. No, I won't wait for you, but know this, that I loved you. For the last time, the last time, for the last time, the last time…

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong x fem!singer reader

Plot: You loved this man. Ever since you were kids. But when self hatred runs deep everything breaks under the weight of it.

Warning: english isn’t my first language, angst, this has two or three parts, mentions of: depression, stress, heartbreak, friends to strangers (to lovers later(?))

2004

You giggled while you heard the door fall back shut. The moment you turned around you saw Jinyong walk up to you. Timid. Which would’ve confused you if you hadn’t felt the exact same way.

„Now?“, you asked, voice hardly above a whisper. Your best friend nodded before taking two big steps forward and pushing his lips on yours. With every other person in the world, it probably would have been awkward and embarrassing, not with Jiyong. With him, it was delicate and felt right.

Maybe because it was Jiyong. Your Jiyong.

2014

A heavy sigh fled your lips while you were looking down at your phone. The kind of sigh that lingers for a while before it needs to find a way out. There was no denying that Kiko was absolutely enchanting. A one-in-a-billion kind of woman. With a face straight out of a magazine. Your chest muscles tighten while you see the new pictures, taken only a few days ago. His hand lays on her cheek. A peaceful smile played on both of their faces, while she leaned into his touch.

He declared that he didn’t have a type. Which was obviously a lie. „Are you okay?“, someone near you asks, however, their voice is so far away you almost don’t hear it. For some bizarre reason, the only thing you were able to hear was the muffled sound of your already breaking heart. It had begun to crack a while ago, but now it was in two chunks. Laying in your ribcage.

No wonder Jiyong never looked your way when girls like Kiko existed in this world. You‘re pretty. Yes. Stunning even…when the lightning is set up right. However, you‘re not beautiful. You swallowed thickly and perked up.

„I‘m fine.“

No, you weren’t. You were far from being anywhere near that. The man you’ve been in love with since you first met had a type, and you figured out that you didn't fit into that.

You started dating as well. An idol from a well-respected boy group. And while the news of your relationship wasn't well received by his female fans there was one person who loathed it more than anyone else. Jiyong. The man who was asking every single girl he met if he could call them by your name. In their troubled on-and-off relationship Kiko wasn’t Kiko…no, she was Y/N. Which led to their countless breakups.

“Why don’t you go for the real thing?“

„You know I can’t.“

2017

The studio was chilly when you walked through the door. Jiyong was sitting next to mountains of papers, notes, and empty coffee mugs.

He asked you for advice. Which, he never asked anyone else about. Maybe you should’ve known by then that he loved you. He hoped you did. He had never been good at talking about his feelings without using metaphors. His reality always had to be hidden in plain sight.

He played the tracks. One by one. And you listened. Arms crossed, head tilted to the side. „I like it.“, you let out after a few moments of silence:“ It‘s honest.“ The man in front of you hummed in response. The anxiety lines, that were covering his features were deeper than usual. Quickly you pulled her gaze off of him, terrified that in a few moments, your view could turn blurry. Rather, they glide over the notes.

„It‘s good.“, you whisper. Which wasn’t a surprise to you:“ Since when…have you been working on this?“

„A while.“, he answers, running a hand through his hair.

„Is this about-?“

Jiyong looks away. He grabbed one of the coffee mugs, bringing it up to his lips. The cold liquid tasted sour, and he swallowed thickly before setting it back down on the table. „It‘s about a lot of things.“, he then responds, licking his dry lips. His fingers play with one of the volume knobs on the console.

„I‘m sorry about that by the way.“

„Don’t. It wasn’t just you. We both changed, right? Over time priorities change.“

„No, I mean Kiko.“ At the sound of her name Jiyongs’ jaw tenses and he leans back in his chair. He wants to look at you, but he just can’t. So he stares at his own reflection.

„Well, it was complicated. It had nothing to do with you.“, he lied, his voice sounding much more careful than before. He hoped you didn’t catch up on that. But you did. „I never said that.“ Your words were cutting deep and he wondered if you realized that. Almost to the bone.

„Things happened. It wasn’t fair to her, or me, or-.“ He paused. Concerned that if you were looking too close you could catch a glimpse of your name etched into the whiteness of them.

#bigbang #kwon jiyong #bigbang imagine #g dragon #gdragon x reader #kwon jiyong x reader #kpop imagine #ff #angst #bigbang x reader #Spotify

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eru-vande · 2 months ago

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I want all the special cards from Übermensch media exhibition 😭😭😭😭😭😭

THE LAST ONEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭 I WANNA KISS HIM ON THE LIPS HE'S SO SOOFFFFFFFFT

#i can't f imagine how EXPENSIVE these catds will be when the people will start selling them FUCK #cause it's not JUST limited edition it's MEMBERSHIP ONLY and it adds to the price #cause you know membership is expensive #kwon jiyong #g dragon #gdragon

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undisclosedcassie · 16 days ago

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being miss g dragon part 3 ❤️

#these are so fun to make #g dragon #gd #gd x reader #bigbang #g dragon x reader #kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #g dragon imagine #bigbang x reader #kpop #kpop moodboard

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jedisupernova · 1 month ago

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falling for the mafia boss's son, kwon jiyong

notes minors dni contains fem reader, non idol au, always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the late 90s (hence the mention of certain technology or media,) mentions of smoking and drinking, reader and jiyong are both twenty-four, very much slice of life and dialogue heavy, very cute and banter-filled meeting!, jiyong being a flirt (or my attempt at writing flirting,) jiyong and reader are down bad (a lot of banter, her parents are on the stricter side; he has to sneak in) reader and jiyong being silly, yearning, angst (miscommunication, mentions of his hardships, he wants to protect reader from his life but to a fault, arguments, he shows up injured one night and you tend to his wounds YUPPPP, mention of insecurities, reader lowkey needs new friends), smut (keeping quiet, dry humping, oral f receiving, sub!jiyong, p in v, reader gives jiyong a pair of her panties,) and inevitable typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! its certainly is a 180 from the last jiyong fic i posted, but what is creativity without ambition! so here goes nothing! this is long. enjoy :)

the time on jiyong's watch read 9:13 pm, his eyes drifting to the summer night sky above. it was hot as fuck. the street lamp's fluorescent lighting flickered, making him blink increasingly harder, distracting him from properly inhaling the lit cigarette between his lips—unceremoniously landing a bead of sweat initially perspiring from his temple into his eye. "shit." his mutter disappeared into the commotion of whatever his friends were going back and forth over. last he checked, it was something about someone's car, or some movie, but the other side of his brain just processed technotronic coming from the house the party they were all invited to tonight was in. jiyong took his cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, using his other hand to rub his bothered eye. neither of his friends took notice, enwrapped in conversation, taking drags of the cigarettes they bummed off jiyong after parking the car some ten minutes ago. a long, defeated breath deflated his chest. "hot as shit, bro—god damn." that earned him concurring nods, their gazes following him to the house peeking over the wooden fence behind them. jiyong wiped his forehead, kissing his teeth disapprovingly; the back of his hand glistened with sweat. he took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it onto the sidewalk and putting it out with his sneaker. "place better have some fucking ac," he said, turning to his friends. "you ready to head in? alright, lets go."

to his joy, there was air conditioning! and not many people were in the house, so he could actually feel it! hallelujah! he sunk into the couch like it was nobody's business after making himself a drink, laying his head back, letting the rum and coke glide down his throat with a satisfied huff. he mouthed the few lyrics he knew to the music playing from the backyard, trailing into the house from the partially-open sliding door. jiyong's eyes opened at the sound of loud footsteps clambering down the stairs, catching glimpses of a friend group walking down the hall leading through the kitchen and into the backyard. he planned on joining whatever was going on out there later in the night—his friends did so immediately after getting their drinks—but for now, he minded his own. he liked parties, and went to most that he was invited to—unless his father had something to say about it, of course—but his social battery didn't sustain for long. he liked the quiet, or at least as quiet as it could get; settling with himself for the time being.

a while after finishing his drink, he went searching for a bathroom. the one on the first floor was occupied, so he headed upstairs; he's been here before, specifically the barbecue that happened a few weeks ago to usher in summertime. it felt humid upstairs with the window behind the landing wide open, laughter from below mixing in with the speaker sounding like it was on its last breath every time the bass kicked in. just as jiyong raised his knuckles to knock, the door swung open, catching him off guard but startling you entirely. "oh my god." you placed a hand over your heart, eyes closed. jiyong didn't know what to do in those passing couple seconds—his hand was still in the air. you smiled, amused at yourself. "didn't expect that," you muttered to yourself, opening your eyes. "my bad—here you go."

you stepped to the left to make room for him to enter and you exit, but he happened to step the same direction with similar intention. an upside down grin molded your face, hearing him awkwardly chuckle. "stay there." the sound of your warm giggle drizzled over his ears like honey, making him perk up and pay the fuck attention. jiyong's eyes followed you whilst you walked by his right. his feet moved before he knew it, his head looking away when you turned to look at him. in those three seconds, a whirlwind of thoughts ran through either of you. for jiyong, it was she's fine as hell; the image of you in your shirt and denim shorts lingering in his mind for as long as he wanted, topped by the sound of your clipped voice fading with each passing moment since he heard so little.

for you, it was the slight furrow of your eyebrows whilst you descended down the stairs: was that who she was talking about? you wondered—thinking back to the pregame at your friend's house earlier in the evening. rumors had floated around about ju . . . was it—no, its ji. jiyong? yeah, that—about jiyong's family, more-so his father, but no one ever had the gall to ask him. did they just not want to be caught in their own bluff, or afraid of unleashing a weapon-bearing fight if they properly dared mention it to him? no one knows, nor was willing to attempt. your city wasn't necessarily small, but it also wasn't large enough for anyone to fall through the cracks. you could pinpoint countless times throughout the years where you overheard speculations of his family's true source of income whilst in line at the local donut shop on sunday mornings, or his supposed home life becoming the topic of discussion at the sleepover once the clock hit two in the morning—but actually coming across him? perhaps a few times at the grocery store, fleetingly at parties, seeing him walking up the block with his friends, or in his car waiting for the traffic light to turn green—like any other neighbor.

you tsked to yourself, remembering something else from the pregame: "i heard he's been getting a lot of tattoos lately." a friend said after someone else brought up the rumor he'd be at the same party you were all going to, pouring the group shots—nothing was left in the house after scrounging the last few pours of cuervo tequila, so you all made due with the singular zima found in the fridge. you never liked the beer alternative, so on top of holding your miniature glass with a slight grimace, her baseless observation just deepened it: "you think that has anything to do with . . . you know . . . his family?" what did that have to do with anything? people have tattoos for whatever reasons . . . not to fit some aimless narrative. now that the anecdote came back, you do remember seeing a pair of detailed wings tattooed on the back of his neck—so he had to be the, for lack of a better term, infamous jiyong. unless there was someone else with the same name? you thought, until you realized how stupid you sounded. that was him, and that was it.

jiyong made his way outside, shouting over the music for his friends to hear him. it was relatively crowded. partygoers were dispersed all throughout the yard—some roasting s'mores by the small fire pit on the corner of the tiled pavement leading into the grass, others bickering over the party mixtape, and many either cheersing or throwing out their red solo cups for new ones. jiyong spotted you on the other side of the yard, talking to a friend whilst sat in the patio swing. his attention left his own friends, inner monologue drowning them out: move, motherfucker. that person must have heard him via some inter-dimensional force. though he couldn't overhear, your friend excused herself to get some snacks from the kitchen, leaving you temporarily on your own—but not if he had anything to say about it. he left his friends wordlessly mid conversation, making his way over. jiyong didn't think ahead much and acted more-so on autopilot, nearly stopping in his tracks when you looked up from your seat.

"did you wanna sit here?" the nicety slipped out before you could stop yourself, gesturing to the empty seat, halfway to standing on your feet. "i can move." "no, its okay." jiyong shook his head. it clicked for you: oh wow. its him, again. "i can—i'll just. . ." jiyong cut himself off by sitting down. it took a moment for you to process what was happening. "oh," an upside down grin tugged at your mouth. "alright." you sat down, inadvertently copying the direction of his gaze watching the party before you, lingering in one another's peripheries. your friend returned outside, equipped with a small plastic bowl of mini pretzels and potato chips, nearly dropping it upon seeing who took her spot. she scurried to the other side of the yard as fast as her flip flops would let her, grabbing the shoulder of whomever in your friend group that was in her nearest reach; scrambling to find the words, only able to point hurriedly in your direction.

whilst their mouths fell agape, yours remained closed. you glanced at him from the side, fingers toying with the bottom hem of your shirt. jiyong crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes remaining ahead; unsure of what to say but sure of his decision to come to you. albeit . . . he felt a little stupid. he was usually quite smooth with it, and if he was awkward, there was an indescribable charm coupled with it. he wasn't necessarily at a loss for words (at least that's what he told himself,) but it was one of those times where he acted before thinking it through—hence the silence. you turned your head fully to look at him. "is there something you wanted to bring up?" "hm?" he was caught off guard, turning his head towards you. jiyong jutted his bottom lip, shaking his head. "no. why?" you shrugged your shoulders. "people don't usually follow the person they ran into in the bathroom, let alone sit next to them." "i didn't follow you." jiyong countered. "we're at the same party." "okay. you tracked me down, then." "tracked you down?" his furrowed eyebrows amused you, seeing him fall into your unserious trap. "what're you talking about? we're at the same party." he repeated, a little defensive.

you shrugged your shoulders again. "i don't know. seems kind of fishy." "what does?" "this." "how? i'm just sitting here." "next to someone you don't know." "so?" "people don't just do that. even when they're at the same party." "they do." jiyong wanted to win. win what? he didn't know. "they do when they're—when they're . . ." he cut himself off, growing embarrassed. "when they're what?" you asked. jiyong swallowed, adjusting his posture. "when—when they're. . ." he hated that he started to build a sweat, and the humid night air wasn't to blame. "when the other person's really, uh—really pretty." you looked at him. he didn't dare look at you. a big smile unraveled across your face. "all of that," you said. "just for you to be cheesy as fuck." jiyong didn't expect to laugh as hard as he did, let alone his hand that shot up to his mouth, clutching his lips to hold it on—until he glanced at you and caught your eyes on him, the both of you losing it.

"oh god." jiyong hid his face behind his palms. "was it really that bad?" he asked, opening a gap between his pointer and middle fingers, peering up at you. "don't try to save face with that cute shit." you dismissed. "you think i'm cute?" his hands slid back down, a knowing smile on his face. "that's—that's not what i was trying to—" you stumbled on your words. he nodded along, eyebrows slightly furrowed in faux-thought. "oh, okay," he barely hid his grin; now we're back on track, he thought to himself. "what were you trying to say, then? hm?" "go away." you told him, turning away, arms crossed over your chest whilst his eyes stayed on you. "if really you don't like it, you can get up yourself." "no, because i asked you first. and you're the one who came over here." "i don't see you leaving." jiyong said. you let out a breath, admittedly defeated. a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, turning into a full-blown smile when seeing your hand make a talking gesture—the same one waving him off with a small scoff.

jiyong noticed how you both sat with your arms over your chest, finding it endearing. his eyes fell to his knee, mere centimeters away from yours. if only i just sat a little closer. "you're funny." he said, eyes on your knee. "i like that." your hand slipped from underneath your arm, coming up to fan your face. "did you hear me ask what you liked?" this bickering feels like we've been married for decades, his inner monologue voiced. jiyong leaned towards you a little, his movement earning your eyes. "i like a challenge." his voice was smooth, getting his edge back. until you humbled him in a way eliciting whiplash: "that didn't land in the way you thought it would." jiyong let out a breath, eyes closing as he sat back in defeat. "you have me spent." "you've barely tried." you retorted, an upside down grin on your face as you looked down at your lap.

jiyong's eyes opened, sitting up, stretching his arm out before him. "i came all the way over here to talk to you!" he exclaimed, defending himself. "i've been trying!" "so you didn't just come here to rest that pretty head of yours?" your flirting flew right past his senses, jiyong prioritizing the bickering: "this is going nowhere." he crossed his arms over his chest begrudgingly. "it is," you corrected him. "you're just being dramatic for no reason." "i'm not being—" he was about to argue, until your words sunk into his psyche. "oh—it is?" you nodded, cheeks warming, pad of your ring finger wiping the built-up sweat off the side of your nose. it took a moment before jiyong said something: "what worked?" he asked. you shrugged your shoulders yet again, pondering in thought, though you had the answer. "you're funny." jiyong tsked, hiding his sheepish grin by turning his head the opposite direction. "it was fuckin' stupid when i said that." he said, still loud enough for you to hear over the music playing some twenty or so feet away. "it wasn't." you said. "it was cute."

jiyong looked at you; ego boosted, but his smile and raised eyebrow reflected his heart doubling in size. "so you do think i'm cute?" "i owe you after you admitted you came over here to talk to me. even if it was apparent from the beginning." that last part was half-bluff—you weren't completely sure, a bit taken aback when he first approached and sat down. you didn't know where this was going to go, but when it did take off, you would be remised not to have some fun. jiyong was sweet; quickly introducing himself as a witty conversationalist whom both matched your energy and kept you on your toes. his banter was fruitful and his clever use of profanity even more so—like the anecdote of when some guy gave him senseless trouble outside of his cousin's birthday dinner a couple years ago: "i told him that i am indeed the type. the fuck i was, the fuck i am, the fuck i will be." "i can't lie, jiyong. you curse pretty good." or when you told him about the argument that broke out between your friends over what movie to rent from blockbuster last weekend: "its not my fault that i didn't want to waste my time when i've been begging to what feels like a brick wall for months to see angelina jolie in 'gia.' i'm not sorry." "fuck no—and you shouldn't be."

jiyong looked like any other twenty something year old—hiding awkward tendencies behind a charming yet nervous chuckle, or going off on an unbridged tangent about a tv show he likes because he wants to fill the silence; keeping a pretty girl like you tethered to him by any means he could think of. but if anyone looked close enough (and you did, because he was fine), they would find something off about his ensemble of a loose-fitting graphic tee, scuffed sneakers, and basketball shorts paired with hair that looked fresh despite his dried sweat; side taper half-hidden underneath the hair that fell so effortlessly into his comma cut—a little too fresh. or perhaps the most perplexing clue of all: the two-toned watch that fell up and down his wrist whenever he moved his arm. you didn't know much about being rich, or differentiating fake luxury items from the real deal, but how the band of the watch molded against his wrist like it was part of him, and the dial that stared you down whenever he fixed his hair, told you he didn't mess around.

his eyes softened whenever your hand came up to fan your face or swat away gnats, noticing the slight sheen glazing your nose and forehead with a small grin on his face. you looked beautiful. the fact that you gave him the time of day was attractive enough—you didn't need to go out of your way to re-adjust your posture, making your plush thighs rub against the swing's cushioned seats in a way that stole his common sense, or your laughter making his eyes kiss in their corners, his right hand gripping the arm rest to keep his balance. jiyong didn't keep track of the time, so when his friends came over—one who perhaps had one too many, and the other with his arm slung around his shoulders—saying it was a good time to get out of there, he thought quickly on his feet: "its all good, man. i'll—i'll meet you at the car in, like, five minutes."

jiyong stood up, you mimicking his movements without thinking. "do you have a mobile?" he asked you. "no," you shook your head with an iota of irrational shame. "was—was never able to afford one." you let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "its all good." jiyong assured. "whats your home phone? i'll call you." your eyes widened, shaking your head with an added sense of urgency: "my—my parents would never." "oh, okay. i got you." he nodded, understanding. the grin on his face was knowing and a bit cocky, taking a step closer to you. "what should we do then, hm? i'm not leaving here without an answer, y'know." "what about your friend?" "don't worry about him." jiyong said softly, subtly shaking his head. "he could hurl all over the street—like i give a fuck. i'm only here for you." you tsked, looking away to thwart the flustered feeling creeping up your neck. jiyong put his hands in his pockets, grinning when you spoke: "you really need to stop with this cute shit, jiyong." "i don't see you walking away, now do i?" he quipped, chuckling when you nudged his shoulder. he liked this feeling. "cmon," he gestured with his head. "i know you got something. tell me."

you looked at him after a moment. "you're lucky i have the day off tomorrow." "i do consider myself the richest man in the world." "oh my god, fuck off!" your exclaim slipped into clipped laughter, in disbelief over his commitment to the bit. "i'll give you my home phone. but you can only call at specific times, and when i tell you to." "i'll make anything work for you." you scoffed, only deepening his upside down grin. "you're not getting any reactions out of me anymore." you said, only to stumble on your words when he jutted out his bottom lip. "come with—come to the kitchen. i'll find a napkin to write it down, or some shit." and call jiyong did—at noon, just like you told him after scribbling your number down with a bic pen on its last few drops of ink. it was about ten minutes after your parents left the apartment to make the weekly grocery run, strategically landing you at home to finish washing the dishes from breakfast. you dropped the sudsy pan into the sink without second thought when the phone rang, hastily wiping your rinsed hands on your shirt, dashing behind the counter and to the living room.

"hello?" "sorry i'm late—had to get away from my parents." jiyong laid more comfortably in his bed, foot shoving a stray sock off his comforter; the rustling transferring from his nokia. you looked over your shoulder at the analog clock hanging next to a framed family photo, seeing it was barely past 12:01. "you're actually quite punctual." you told him. "you sound surprised." he said. "can you blame me? you're a man." "not just any man—" "—its only been, like, ten seconds," you cut him off, sitting down on the couch. "don't make me already contemplate hanging up." jiyong smiled wide. "you're sharp." he said. "i like that." "in the twelve hours that we've known each other, i don't think i've ever asked what you like. and i don't plan on it." "i think you're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because i like you." he let out a satisfied huff hearing you scoff. "plus, i think we've known each other for more than twelve hours. i've seen you before. the grocery store, maybe? i knew you looked familiar—think i finally placed you." he tried to play it cool, though he knew the answer.

"most likely, yeah." you nodded despite him not being able to see, your other hand twirling the phone cord between your fingers. did he think about me last night? "i've been working there part-time for a while. its been hard finding a full-time gig, as embarrassing as it feels to be two years post-grad." "i don't think you should feel bad. its hard out here." said jiyong, sincerity coming through the grainy audio. "i mean, i went to columbia, but you don't see me in a suit with a briefcase and shit." "hold on," you waved your hand. "you can't just be the most random person i've ever met." "what do you mean?" "i went to a nobody-knows community college that i'm sure will be caught in a class action lawsuit for money laundering in ten years time, but i'm just sat here talking to a scholar?" jiyong chuckled, running his hand over his warming face. "i'm not a scholar, i'll tell you that much." he toyed with a loose thread on his comforter—memories of his father repeatedly reeling how much he poured into his spot at the university flashing in his head, beckoned away with a small, defiant flick of his head.

you brought him back down to earth: "i'm gonna go get my thesaurus." he kissed his teeth disapprovingly, pout evident in his voice. "like the fuck you are. stay on the phone." he panicked slightly at the prolonged (it was five seconds) silence from your end of the line. "please?" you grinned. "you're really cheesy." you teased. "how is talking to a fine ass woman fuckin' cheesy?" "you can't just say shit like that casually, jiyong." "well, i will. hear me loud and clear." he cleared his throat into the receiver, catching you off guard, holding back your laughter. "you're fine as hell. do i need to keep saying it?" "maybe." "are you free for dinner tonight? i'll tell you in person." "maybe." "what'll convince you?" you said the first thing you thought of: "if you wear that watch of yours again." jiyong smiled, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "you like the finer things in life. don't you, baby?" he said smoothly. your cheeks felt warmer by the second, unsure of what you just started. "its hard to take you seriously when i can hear that smug grin on your face." you responded, voice akin to velvet despite the crackles over the line. "you already know me so well." jiyong's fingers toyed with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "m'starting to think we're meant to be. that doesn't sound corny, does it?"

"i'm relieved you're able to pinpoint that yourself now." you heard him chuckle. "and, no. it doesn't for once. you can be sweet when you want to be." "i can be good." he told you earnestly. "i can be really good, you know." "i believe you." you told him. "i hear it in your voice." a beat went by. "you know," said jiyong. "i didn't think you were capable of being nice." "don't be a dumbass right now, jiyong. this was such a good moment." you couldn't stop the grin stretching your mouth hearing him burst into laughter. "you're goofy as fuck, boy. oh my goodness." you giggled, running a hand over your face. "okay—okay, stop laughing. do you know where we're going for dinner? because i've long thought of what i'm going to say to get out tonight." jiyong got serious real quick. "oh shit—damn, okay. let me think." he cleared his throat. "there's this—there's this place i know by the rec center that has really good subs. does that sound—" "—fine by me." you didn't give a fuck what you ate. you just wanted to see him. "okay. okay, cool." jiyong nodded, licking his lips in thought. "you wanna meet there? or i could—i could come pick you up, if thats okay. i know we just met and all. and your parents might not be the most . . ." you waited for his choice of word. he didn't disappoint. "enthusiastic."

you let out a laugh. "you're right." you said. "you can pick me up from one block over." "whatever works for you works for me." "i can't lie to you, jiyong," you said. he hasn't sure where this was going. "but i really like the sound of that." jiyong took his ear off his phone, turning his head the opposite direction on his pillow, silently screaming into his palm. i hit the jackpot! i hit the fucking jackpot! his inner monologue rejoiced. he quickly brought the phone back to his ear: "you do?" "mhm." the sound of your voice made him kick at nothing, covering his face from no one. "i do, jiyong." "oh my god." he muttered. "i think i love you." you scoffed, unable to thwart your grin or increasingly flustered state. "what's my favorite fucking color, jiyong?" "i still think i love you," he avoided the question. "i'll know by the end of tonight, anyway." "i don't even want to ask if you're referring to my favorite color or whether you love me because you're starting to get on my nerves." "is it the right one?" "jiyong." "at least tell me if its the right one. look, i'll be honest and tell you that i'm just really happy i sat next to you last night." a moment went by before you spoke. "i am too." you said honestly. "and yes. it was the right nerve." jiyong buried himself behind his palm. "tell me where i should pick you up from. i can be there at seven."

it wasn't long before you started sneaking him in. up the fire escape that conveniently lead into your bedroom on the second floor of the apartment building you've lived in your entire life—it was a no brainer. it also wasn't long before jiyong got you a pager and mobile phone to go with it. to use at your own leisure, of course, but also already programmed with speed dial: "just press eight and i'll pick up anytime." "anytime?" "anytime, baby." "even when you're on the shitter?" "now that you mention it, yes. even when i'm on the shitter." jiyong came at ten pm on the dot on nights you gave him the green light. those first few times, it often began with the two of you bickering in hushed whispers when he didn't lift his leg high enough to climb over the windowsill, losing his balance and leading his foot to come clambering down, echoing off the steel grates.

you looked at each other in silent panic, his eyes dashing to your door behind you; both listening for footsteps, his shoulders sinking in relief when nothing followed, only to straighten back up when you smacked his shoulder. "get it the fuck together!" you whisper-yelled. "do you want my parents to wake up!?" "alright, alright—damn!" jiyong tsked, clearly annoyed, but his voice remained quiet. "its not my fault the developer built this shit higher than a fucking city skyscraper!" "use your nimble legs, they usually get you far enough." "i don't have nimble—" "—its a compliment, jiyong." "i don't have time for fuckin' riddles. give me your shoulder—it'll help me balance." he beckoned you over, hearing you huff. you stepped forward, feeling his palm secure your left shoulder. you leaned in as he prepared to attempt to climb in again, hand on his other cheek, bringing his closest to your lips. "you whiny baby." you whispered. "you making fun of me isn't helping either of us." "that wasn't me making fun of you." "you know what—i can just head home." he gestured behind him. "my car is right across the street." you looked him in the eyes, waiting for a moment or two. "i don't see you leaving, jiyong." "well, i was just—" "—get inside before i close the window."

he watched you like you just did him. "right—goodnight." you reached up to pull the window down. jiyong scrambled; "wait, no—shit! wait!" he reached up and tousled his hands with yours, either of your fingers clumped together. his face was directly in front of yours, looking into your eyes. a small, please-forgive-me grin stretched his mouth. "you look really pretty." he whispered sweetly. "just shut up and get inside." you stepped aside, feeling his hand on your shoulder. he climbed in successfully, arms making residence around your waist in no time, bringing you in for a kiss. "you're lucky i like you." he whispered hurriedly with intent, quickly reconnecting your lips. "excuse me?" you felt him giggle against your lips. "its—its the other way around. have to deal with your goofy shit all the time." "but you like it, right? because you like me." his arms pulled you closer to him, your supple cheek squishing against his lips. "right?" he kissed harder, your failed attempt at acting annoyed manifesting in a curt tsk. jiyong was in his own world: "right, my pretty girl?" "i wanna say no just to fuck with you." jiyong abruptly stopped, sinking his face into your neck. "i like hugging you." he murmured. "i think you just like annoying me." his giggle was your answer, feeling a chaste kiss pressed dotingly onto your neck when your hands traveled up his back and into his hair. "you're a pain in the ass."

jiyong was someone who knew what he wanted. so when he asked to be official after your second date, you were surprised and even let out a small laugh, thinking he was playing—but he was dead serious: "you've known me for less than a week, jiyong." you said from his passenger's seat. his gaze left your apartment building a block down and returned to you, shrugging his shoulders. "i mean, sure—yeah." he concurred, wiping the sweat off his forehead. the mechanic still didn't fix his ac right. "but i'd say i've known you long enough to know that i want you." he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was. why waste time, especially when you know the other person feels the same? warmth mounted your cheeks, averting your gaze to the center console. "can i think about it?" you asked. jiyong grinned, eyes momentarily watching your fingers glide against the leather lining of the console, avoiding the urge to hold your hand by tapping his own against the steering wheel. "yeah," he responded gently. "but i already kinda know what the answer is." "no you don't." you tried to quip, your quiet voice a giveaway. "did you not say yes to getting ice cream tomorrow? at the pier? maybe i misheard—" "—you didn't, ji."

he smiled. "good. thats good." he spoke softly. he faced you, eyes fluttering down before taking your hand in his. he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss. he turned to your palm, mouth molding against the clammy skin before making his way down to your wrist. his eyes opened when your nerves acted before you could think, wordlessly calling him over to you when your palm now rested against his cheek. jiyong moved without an iota of hesitation, leaning over the center console. his eyes looked into yours with a look of can i?, voice unexpectedly barely moving a morsel above a whisper. "can i kiss—" "—yes. come here." he didn't need to be told twice, closing that gap damn near immediately. your hands held his face when he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss. his lips felt soft albeit somewhat chapped, molding against your lips in a way that made a shaky breath exit your nostrils; his hand trailing up your thigh.

"jesus—fuck." you were startled by someone lugging their garbage into the dumpster a few feet away from the car, a hand coming up to your chest as jiyong cursed under his breath. he looked over your shoulder, eyes narrowing at the unsuspecting stranger. his attention returned to you upon feeling your fingers toy with the collar of his graphic tee. jiyong leaned in, the chaste kiss sweet. "my answer's yes." you muttered against his lips. "that's news to no one, baby." his hand rested atop your thigh, thumb tracing your plush skin. "at least act surprised," you tutted, holding his face in your hands, amused at his lips being half-puckered; clearly expecting another kiss. "i have a reputation to uphold." he smiled, not hiding his chuckle, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "what—for who?" you tried to come up with something witty, but each passing second prevented anything from landing correctly. you shrugged your shoulders, playfully defeated. "i can't lie to you—i've heard them say that in movies, and it always sounded really cool." he erupted into colorful laughter, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you caught him, unable to hold your own giggles back.

nights in your bedroom were spent underneath your duvet; recounting your days to each other in hushed whispers, making plans for future dates after swiping that day's newspaper from the kitchen counter—"'eyes wide shut' is still playing? seunghyun mentioned wanting to see it recently, i think. i think he went the other day." "tom cruise kind of freaks me out. what about 'but i'm a cheerleader,' tomorrow at 7:15? i heard its good fun.", giggling in between sweet kisses, or attempting to stay quiet if things got heated. whether it was you unbuttoning his jeans or his hand slipping past the hem of your underwear, either of your free hands was covering the other's mouth. jiyong's mewls were muffled behind your palm as your fist pumped his hardened cock— incessant ruffling of his briefs against your hand hidden behind the innocent creak of the bed when you turned onto your back to spread your thighs further, giving his thumb enough leverage to nurse your clit. his body followed your movements without hesitation, laying on his side, bottom lip caught between his teeth at how your t-shirt bunched up in the space between the bottom of your back and the top of your ass—breathing heavily into your palm.

it was easy to tuck him underneath your shirt when he made love to those perky nipples, relishing in the sound of your sharp breath after the chill of his watch band pressed against the warm, bouncy skin of your right breast, his tongue tending to the left. his ministrations were experienced, but how his hand trailed up and down your side, squeezing and rubbing your hip dotingly felt personal. or the way he hummed to himself in satisfaction from time to time, muttering whispers of "one and only," and "how can you be so fucking hot." he didn't give a fuck that his lips were begging for some vaseline, or that his jaw was feeling increasingly tighter—your breathy "jiyong, baby . . ." was all he needed to hear to keep going. even better if you arched your back, squishing his nose against your chest whilst his re-adjusting his posture stretches out the shirt you slept in. he moved to your right breast, encircling your areola before capturing it between his lips. he moved to lay atop you, waist between your thighs.

you felt his bulge against you. "you know whats f-f—mmph!—funny?" you whispered. "hm?" jiyong hummed. "you're in the perfect p-position t-to—s-shit—to f-fuck me if you wanted to." "don't put that idea into my head," jiyong whispered quickly, popping sotly off of your nipple. "you don't know how long i've been thinking about that." "there's no way we'd stay quiet enough, s-so forget 'b-bout it—least for now—shit!" your hand shot up, covering your mouth as the warmth of his tongue made your eyes roll back. "s-show me." it was hard to clarify with how scattered your mind was at the moment. "p-pretend to—i can feel you—j-ji, baby." you cut yourself off, thinking it was useless to try to compose yourself; thoughts coming out fragmented. he got the message, though—practically shoving of his cock caged in his briefs against your clothed pussy, moving his hips against yours. you let out a small gasp, back arching. jiyong collided his hips harshly with yours, feeling your thighs jiggle and a sound of surprise from your lips. "damn! go slow!" you exclaimed in a whisper, amused smile evident in your tone.

he did it again, eliciting a peculiar small grunt from his forcibly-muted efforts, amusing you further. "i get you that hot and bothered, huh?" "you have no fucking i-idea—f-fuck." he came to a halt, catching his breath, feeling how desperate his dick was between his fucking temples. "if you act up like this," you said. "then there's no way we can fuck here." "no—i'll behave myself." he hurriedly assured, making you grin. "i'll behave, baby. i will. holy fuck—its hot under here." jiyong carefully slid out from underneath your shirt, gradually standing on his knees on the bed. he let out a breath, wiping his cheeks and forehead with the back of his hand. "like i was saying," he let out a breath. "i'll behave—" "you're ridiculous." you cut him off. jiyong looked down at you, seeing you propped up on your elbows. "what?" "since when did you rival fedex?" "what?" he repeated, confused—until he followed your gaze; so hard, and with how the fabric of his briefs looked, it was as if his dick doubled in size.

he bit at corner of his bottom lip, hands on his hips. "i mean—" he began. "you asked me to show you, so here you go." you tsked, raising your leg, nudging his shoulder with the ball of your right foot. he caught your ankle, pressing a kiss before letting your leg go. you propped your feet against the bed, knees together in the air. "nah—open 'em." he tutted softly. "gonna have a taste before i leave. make you feel real fuckin' good." and he fucking did—face sunken into your cunt, his tongue going back and forth between nursing your clit and hole; hands atop your thighs, holding them in place. he heard your whimpers, as muffled as they were, even through the erratic meshing of your plush skin against his ears. your other hand sunk into his hair before having to use both to cover your mouth once that knot began to form in your abdomen. "j-jiyong!" your ghost of a whisper penetrated his senses. his response manifested in one arm slung over your stomach, his other hand trailing past your stretch marks, reaching for the closest breast and kneading it in his palm; humming in content against your slick pussy.

you and jiyong lived in your own world those first few months. neither of your respective friends knew—not because it was hidden on purpose or anything, but jiyong was too busy running red lights to come see you, and you were occupied with thinking of a slick way to end a phone call after hearing the pager beep in your nightside table drawer. though there wasn't verbal confirmation until later, there were definite signs: a particularly blunt friend pointing something out when you got to lunch ten minutes late ("there's something different about you, but i can't place it—" "—she smells like sex. also has the glow." "hey! no i don't!"); jiyong thinking his bucket hat would deter attention from the mostly-faded-but-still-noticeable hickey on his neck, only for seunghyun to point it out the moment he got in his car to head to the mall ("that goofy hat isn't doing shit." "she calls me that, too." "it takes nothing to get everything out of you, ji."); when you were too quick to leave a night out, saying you'd take public transit home, ultimately leading you to be cornered by the same friend, strategically pulled you into her car away from the others ("be for real. are you seeing someone?" "we're still—" "—okay, so you are. who is it? don't tell me its that co-worker that ate the—what was it? expired tuna? willingly?" "i'm offended that you think i would ever consider that. we met at a party, anyway—" "jiyong!? oh my god! oh my god!" "how did you—" "—i saw you two on that swing, but i didn't think—oh my god! tell me everything!" "only if you let me get a fucking word in—holy shit!"); to jiyong straight up telling seunghyun "i can't tonight, man. m'seeing my girl." to which his best friend responded "she rang me up the other day at the market, but i don't think she knew who i was. you need to fix that."

things took a turn the night your parents were out at a co-worker's wedding. they left at eight, not expected to be back until well past midnight. jiyong was in your bedroom no later than 8:10, shoes kicked off, hand comfortably behind his head, slumped against the pillow next to yours in bed. perhaps it was the fact you two were truly alone for the first time with your parents gone and window closed—for once not at the ready to dash out if footsteps erupted down the hall—that the conversation trickled elsewhere. something about these last few months was just something different for jiyong . . . he felt connected. safe. most importantly, trusted. you felt cared for, desired, and seen. it showed in those lingering stares; the air just feeling right whenever you two are together; his hand ghosting past yours before working up the courage to hold it in a way that always granted him that shy grin of yours; your cheeks brushing against one another's when you're looking at the same thing . . . the list was endless. something just—it just clicked. the question of are we moving too quickly? pestered at the back of either of your minds . . . but one look, and the puzzle was completed. the answer clear. any doubts eradicated.

trust was in bloom, and so was his willingness to be vulnerable. when it occurred, you shut the fuck up, putting your own shock aside: "my parents have never been the type—nah." jiyong chuckled. it was after some anecdote you brought up from middle school about parent-teacher conferences—specifically how you were outed for having a failing grade in chemistry. "my mom went to those things, but my dad—its like you'd have to drag him there. he was always busy, or some shit." you hummed, reaching over and softly grazing your finger against his forehead, fixing a fallen strand. it wasn't intended, but jiyong took the gentle gesture as a means of saying you can tell me anything. his eyes flickered to the linen before fully turning onto his side, directly facing you. he avoided the stirring turmoil in his chest, bringing his pointer finger to your bottom lip, pulling it down and letting go; chuckling at the small plop it made against your top lip, endeared by your playful scoff.

"listen, uh—" he began. "i know people—people talk. about my . . . about my family, or whatever. about my dad, specifically." he rubbed his eye, avoiding looking at you. "he does work, uh . . . he does work—he works underground—" "—jiyong, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." you told him, seeing the strain on his face. "no," he shook his head. "i want to. i mean—if i can find the fucking words." he let out a curt chuckle, frustrated with himself. he took a breath, still not looking at your eyes, but the bottom hem of your shirt. "i guess i—" he huffed. "i guess i always kinda knew something was different. like, my 'uncles' weren't my uncles. well, two of them are. but most aren't." you listened carefully, cheek rubbing against the pillowcase when you nodded. "it was a feeling, i guess? and then in sixth grade it was like . . . my frontal lobe developed. that's real fucking early, i know, but i don't know how else to describe it. everything just—it just made sense."

jiyong finally looked up. your expression was unreadable, but you didn't look scared. or intimidated. so that was a good sign. "i'm just jiyong." he spoke softly. he wasn't sure why he said that but something in him compelled him to do so. his hair ruffled against the pillow, subtly shaking his head. "i don't do any of that. i'm set straight—normal." for the most part, his inner monologue voiced. you scooted closer, the tip of your nose brushing against his. your brought your hand up, pad of your thumb tracing his stubble. he watched you with a glint in his eyes; entranced. "no one's interrogating you." you whispered, a smile stretching your mouth, seeing him visibly relax. he let out a long breath, forehead falling onto yours, eyes fluttering closed. "and you are just jiyong." you told him, hand reaching behind him, coaxing tenderly up and down his back. "well, my jiyong. specifically speaking." "you got that right." he kissed your cheek, nestling into your chest, arms slung around your waist. you held him without hesitation, quickly combing his hair back with your fingers as it tickled your chin. jiyong closed his eyes, letting something else slip out: "you make my life feel normal." he muttered, hidden in your warmth. "you make my life a lot more interesting." you told him, the vibrations of your chuckle making him hold you tighter.

a couple hours later, he was out of your bed, stood in front of your rotating fan perched beside your dresser. "you'd think it wouldn't be still hot as shit in damn near october." jiyong muttered, quickly leaning down once the fan turned him way, flushed cheeks momentarily relieved. "i know." you concurred, left in nothing but a shirt and underwear; laid on your side in bed, head propped up by your hand. jiyong huffed when the fan turned away, tugging at the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the fabric. you quickly looked away when he turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed. the unintended brewing silence caught his attention, turning his head to look at you. "this is the longest you've gone without talking since we started dating." "shut up, ji." he grinned, leaning down, bringing his lips to yours.

"you've seen me like this before. why so shy now, hm?" he murmured against your mouth; the kiss slow, deliberate. "s'cause you're fine." you mumbled. "s'my line, baby." you stopped the kiss, lips hovering above his. "you're so cheesy sometimes that it hurts, jiyong." he laughed against your mouth. "but you like it. i know you do." he said between kisses. his hand reached your hip, sliding down your thigh until his fingers tried to nestle between them. you opened your thighs enough to let his hand in, closing them around his wrist. he cupped and palmed your clothed pussy as best he could, kissing you a bit harder. "i know my girl likes it when i'm half fucking naked." he whispered. his eyes opened when the kiss ceased, feeling your quiet breaths brush against his mouth. you perched your left foot atop the bed, effectively separating your thighs, allowing jiyong to feel your puffy lips underneath the fabric of your underwear. "look at her. so good f'me, so ready." he praised, glancing down as his hand tucked into the hem, sinking his middle finger between your puffy lips. he moved it side to side, watching you as a small gasp left your mouth. you adjusted your hips—to your fortune, the move aligned the pad of his finger to your clit, making you shudder, fighting rolling your eyes back by squeezing them shut.

aimlessly, your hand pawed at his bare chest. "j-ji—kiss me." he leaned in, the side of his nose aligning with yours. "don't ever need to ask," he murmured. "jus' do it." he kissed you repeatedly, going slower when you moaned into his mouth; it was the way you liked it—purposeful and fucking sensual. you both were present and so fucking crazy for each other that it could suffocate any room . . . and it was beginning to be your own. "both of your lips are so soft against my mouth, baby," he muttered atop your mouth, adding his tongue to the mix. "y'know i have dreams of eating that pussy, right? can't get enough of it—" "—j-jiyong!" you gasped, holding onto the back of his neck when the pad of his finger fastened its speed. "should i do it now? hm? should i eat this sweet pussy—make love to your fucking clit before i fuck it? yeah?" that latter was his usual dirty talk that got you the fuck going, putting the idea into your head before giving you brain that had yours malfunctioning. it felt so risky with your parents down the hall, so you never did it until—wait.

"j-ji—jiyong. stop—wait." you reached down, fingers wrapping around his wrist. he halted his ministrations, looking at you. "c-can't—can't think." you breathed heavily. "what's up? everything okay?" he asked, lips finding your temple. his finger left its spot between your puffy lips, palm resting against you. "do you—" your mind was scrambled. "do you have a condom? i want you. tonight." there was a small gap between his lips—until it clicked in his head. "right. right—" he nodded, reaching into his pocket and opening his wallet. if he thought he was flustered before, his cheeks were on fire now. the one fucking time—his inner monologue cursed. "shit—i don't have any." "go get some." "one step ahead of you." his hand slipped out of your underwear, sucking briefly on his middle finger before grabbing his shirt from the floor, shoving his feet into his shoes. "won't be longer than ten fucking minutes. i swear." he told you, leaning down and kissing your lips. "just—just stay horny." jiyong said a little awkwardly before climbing out the window. his own libido clouded his senses, dizzying his temples as he descended down the stairs and climbed down the short ladder. "will do." you muttered to yourself, chuckling.

your bed creaked as loud and incessantly as either you or jiyong willed it to. once he was in and you were adjusted ("how's it feel, baby? feel okay?" "y-yeah. just—just hold me, ji."), he fucked you right and good. you felt like everything he dreamed of and more—all those nights he lulled himself to sleep tracing the linen back and forth with his palm, imagining it was your hips; balling the fabric in his fist as he showed himself no mercy with the other, dreaming of what you might sound like around him. "f-feel good with me, baby. c-c'mon." he'd whisper to himself in the confines of his bedroom—panting it next to your ear whilst his hips rammed into yours. you felt as if you achieved your final form: arms above your head in bliss, shirt pushed up to your neck whilst your tits bounced intermittently, your fine ass man between your legs; fucking you with such tenderness coupled with carnal desire, stretching you out in a way you didn't know you needed or was possible, quite frankly. jiyong took his time to memorize your body: all the divots and crevices poetically curated by your cellulite, the uneven lines of your stretch marks, how the rolls adorning your hips jiggled differently than those on your stomach. his hips stuttered, vulnerable moan escaping his lungs when your thighs wrapped around his waist as best you could in your horned-out haze, pleading "more, jiyongie—m-more. want it harder," so beautifully. he leaned down, both of your heavy breaths meshing together as he adjusted his balance on his knees, rutting into you harder than before. all mine, he thought to himself, eyebrows curling upward at the sound of your indescribable moan, how fucking lucky am i?

the only problem was once you started . . . you couldn't stop. this newly-emerged can of worms was barely contained when your parents were once again just down the hall—but ambition was nothing without strategy. you two mapped out the least-noisy parts of your bed and acted accordingly: if jiyong's behind you, he's on his feet whilst your elbows propped you up on your bedside, your feet on the carpeted floors as his pelvis pounded your globes (nearly popping a vein trying to keep quiet in the process); if you were on top, strangely enough the top middle of your bed worked well, but jiyong couldn't change how he sat once he settled; or the one time you fucked on the floor because you really wanted to try the position whilst laid on your sides, but the bed would be too nosy. you swore to never do it again after waking up with a migraine and stuffy nose from the air conditioning blowing directly onto your head.

at some point, you couldn't take it anymore. it was after the thanksgiving holiday—the early hours of black friday, to be specific. whilst your friends were hitting the mall, jiyong was hitting it from the back. he drowned himself in your duvet trying to keep his whimpers at bay, your own palm suffering under the pressure of your mouth. when you finished, he kept his balance by gripping your left globe, squeezing it to thwart the urge to smack it silly. drool threatened to leak out the corner of his mouth, swiping it with the back of his other hand before pulling the condom off. a thin string connected your palm and your mouth, that same hand going into his hair without thinking upon feeling his lips against your cheek. "i love you so much." he whispered, hand tenderly rubbing your hip. "l-love you too. can't keep—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "can't keep being quiet. s'too hard." "i know. i feel the same." "help me—help me stand up, jiyongie." "i got you. c'mere, baby."

you were on the brink two weeks later. swiveling your hips, his hands holding your waist and lower back in place, swallowing his mewls and whimpers with your connected lips. jiyong was so needy—cut fingernails clawing at your bare back, faint whispers of "keep fucking me. keep f-fucking me just like that—hngh!" against your mouth, hastily re-connecting the kiss to muffle his verbose libido. he was more whiny than usual that night—this being the first time you've seen each other in a while from misaligned free time and abrupt family plans. it showed. "oh f-fuck yeah, baby—" his whisper was so faint and high he sounded as if he was depleted of oxygen. the way his face was scrunched up—mouth hung open, eyes shut, eyebrows knit deeply together—didn't help. "k-keep fucking me—keep fucking jiyongie just like that. y-yeah! fuck—" your mixed slick combined with the lubricated condom made his dick slip out of you a few times, permitting a breather, but not for long. your knees burned and you felt dizzy, but his cock was fucking addicting. it was all for you and no one fucking else's. his pathetic fucking whines merely scratched the surface of attesting to that—how about him chanting your name like a goddamn prayer? catching him grinding into the duvet when he's eating you out? begging for mercy with that fucking quiver, only to stutter a million thank yous once that euphoric wave hits? it was endless. he was yours. you'd take that tylenol and hydrate later—for now, it was just you and him. no one else existed in your shared world.

your gummy walls clenched around him, sending him into an untamable orbit. "a-agh!" he whined aloud, sucking in a breath with your hand covered his mouth with haste, his eyes widening. "you better stop moaning like a bitch." you whispered. his eyes were misty, subconsciously mourning the temporary loss of movement. "i c-can't help it, baby," he shook his head, shaking off your palm. "y-you feel so fucking good. m'so fucking turned on right now—you have no idea, holy s-shit." both of his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses onto your bare chest. "i'll be good. i'll—i'll behave, baby." he whispered, looking up at you. his hand grabbed your right breast, eyes watching yours with a glint. "i'll be your good boy—your good jiyongie. look, i'll do this to keep quiet." his tongue encircled your nipple before taking it between his lips, lapping the peak repeatedly.

it was an effective method, considering when you started moving again, all that could be heard was the moderate, non-suspicious tinkering of your metal bed frame—but now your self-control was withering away. your fingers entangled in his hair, vibrations of his moans molding into your plush skin . . . you couldn't help yourself: "f-fuck!" you gasped, hand aimlessly grabbing onto the wall in front of you, nails scratching against the chipped paint. jiyong sucked diligently as if nothing happened. you attempted to squish this shit like a bug, needing your boyfriend to wake the fuck up: "cut that shit out, ji—ha-a!" you sucked in a breath. "i can't k-keep quiet." "if i don't have this, i'm going to wake up the entire neighborhood." he muttered. "not before we wake my fucking parents!" you whisper-yelled. you nudged the side of his head with a tsk, your nipple slipping out of his mouth with you leaned to your left, grabbing your shirt. "oh hell no—" jiyong realized what was happening, you cutting him off: "shut up." you tutted, putting your shirt on. "thats what you get."

you held either side of his face, kissing his lips sweetly. "i love it when you're like this." you felt him hum. "all desperate." "i know," jiyong answered, kissing you back. "you ride my shit into the sunset whenever i do." he chuckled when you turned away, clearly flustered. "come back here." he murmured gently, lips decorating your supple cheek. "but m'being honest. this is how you make me. s'fucking hard keeping quiet, baby." "i can't keep doing this, jiyong." you shook your head. "i'm going crazy." "i know, pretty girl, i know." he nodded, palms rubbing up and down your thighs. "my place isn't really an option, either." he shook his head, seeing you nod. you talked about this before. "always busy with some shit. but i'm gonna get us a room—its about time. so we can be loud as we want to, yeah? fuck good and hard?" "y-yes." you let out a shaky breath, slowly beginning to move your hips. "needed it, like, yesterday." "i'll book it first thing tomorrow." he whispered, bottom lip choked between his teeth. "just finish us off, baby," his voice was already an octave higher. "no one does it like you—ha-a—a—oh f-fuck!"

it was an interesting feeling, knowing you were going somewhere just to fuck your boyfriend. those car rides were either humorously quiet or overly conversational—the little white lies you told your parents at the back of your mind as you filed into jiyong's passenger's seat after your shift ended: "i'll be late tonight. its someone's birthday," "i'm picking up another shift," or his personal favorite "the girls and i are having a sleepover." ("am i one of the girls?" "in your dreams.") he swiped his card at the hotel receptionist's desk without a second thought; clothes on the floor and bed creaking less than an hour later. the nearby 24 hour mart was the go-to for condom and snack runs, or the neighboring strip mall where you went for dinner ("do you want to go re-fuel?" "'re-fuel' is crazy, jiyong.") or he'd pick up an order—styrofoam take-out containers sprawled out in bed, eating your burgers and curly fries with nothing but the thin hotel quilt atop either of you, talking about whatever as the local weatherman played on the box television.

"keep moving like that! holy shit! holy shit!" he cried out one night, fucking up into you as you slammed down onto him. his hands went back and forth between gripping the side of your thighs to smacking either of your plush globes; or laying his palms on your thighs, looking down as he both watched and felt them shake with each unrelenting thrust. "i love feeling this fucking j-jiggle," he sucked in a breath. "and gripping this shit." his hands squeezed your ass before kneading to your love handles, looking up at you upon hearing you moan. "have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are," his breathing was jagged, sweat perspiring across his forehead. "the fuck do y-you—hngh!—t-the fuck do you mean no one's ever wanted you this bad? huh? felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh my god—ha-a—a!" he whimpered, hips stuttering to a sudden halt after you clenched around him. you let out a breath, adjusting your knees, hands letting go of the headboard to opt for your arms wrapping around his shoulders. "thats it, thats it." he praised gently. "get comfortable f'me. for your jiyongie—your good jiyongie. there you go, baby." he found his face lost in your neck when he started moving again; fingers entangled in his hair, nails scratching against his tattoo. "o—oh! j-jiyong! oh f-fuck, b-baby—" you cut yourself off with a gasp, guttural moan following. you felt so free. "felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh fuck—yeah! yeah!" he was close, determined to finish his thought. "felt like i needed to go to church and t-thank g-god herself for bringing me t-to you—f-fuck!"

no part of the room was spared. godspeed to whomever was on the housekeeping shift that saturday morning after the stench you two left in that damn bathroom . . . meant to get in the shower at ten to make the eleven check-out time and also complementary weekend brunch . . . but its not your fault the both of you are fine as fuck! "like that! like that! m-more—more! f-fuck!" your voice bounced off the tiled walls; acoustics of the bathroom drilling your moans into his brain for his next however so many lives—not that he was complaining what-so-fucking-ever. your knee was atop the counter, stomach laying comfortably in the sink as your hands held onto the wall and mirror before you, being fucked delectably from behind. the plop of his heavy balls against you hardly rivaled the sound of the air vent, let alone how loud you were. "o-oh my god, baby! f-fuck—fuck me! fuck me just like that! a-ah!" your walls swallowed and spit him out whole, leaving nothing to the imagination with the condom covered in creamy slick. he was panicking a little, though, because all of his cock was in you. he didn't have anymore, so he just went harder.

it seemed to do the trick. his mouth fell open at the sound of your shaky "oh my fucking god!", glancing at the mirror and seeing an expression on your face that he thought only existed in his fantasies. "f-fuck!" he whimpered. "y-you're f-fucking tight—feels so f-fucking good—a-agh! jiyongie f-feels so good!" referring to himself in third person was a tell-tale sign he was pussy drunk, only making you more hornier, knocking over the hotel hand soap in your effort to fuck him back. damn—is my dick really that good? he wondered to himself, nearly stumbling in trying to regain his balance. it ended in you two making it on time to brunch—but with his t-shirt on inside out and backwards, and droplets of water adorning your hair, along with a sheer streak of body lotion on display whenever your lifted your arm to take a bite of your omelette, of course.

godspeed to whomever was next door, too, like that one time a couple took an overnight pitstop during their road trip. it was downhill for them starting at 11 pm that friday night. you were stroking jiyong's cock as he laid on your chest, his moans muffled by your mouth, but the boyfriend's eyebrows raised nonetheless as he got ready for bed. the girlfriend nudged his shoulder and gestured to the wall when you were getting your pussy ate, moans undeniable as jiyong's tongue made love to your clit, slurping you up like never before. she kept her laughter in, eyes widening humorously at the circumstance. the smile was swiped clean off of her face when jiyong started fucking you—grunts of fighting for power as your ass rammed his pelvis, mewls of pleasure, and whorish moans bleeding through the walls like it was made of paper. the couple stared at the ceiling in complete darkness, not a wink of sleep in sight for either of them. to top it all off, a phone kept ringing. until something went crashing down.

"who keeps—who keeps fuckin' calling—god damn!" they heard him curse when your mobile rang again. "m-must be one of the girls." you were out of breath, the ringtone dramatically deafening. "c-can you—can you get it? take out the battery or something. i can't reach—can't think straight, sick of the phone—hngh!" your thoughts came out fragmented, shutting up once jiyong leaned over to the bedside table; inadvertently shoving his cock deeper inside you. he slid the back off, picking the battery out and shoved everything onto the floor hastily. "thats fucking better—f-fuck!" you pushed into him, feeling him grip your hips and rut into you at breakneck speed. "y-yes! yes!" you cried. the girlfriend was fed up, but not with you: "why don't you fuck me like that?" she asked her boyfriend. "uh—" he stuttered. "she's—she's playing it up. clearly. i mean, who really sounds that dramatic? right?" he was overpowered by the sound of you calling jiyong's name so delicately that anyone could see what was really going on. the girlfriend huffed, turning away from him and onto her side, tugging the duvet. "that's what someone who doesn't know what they're doing would say." she muttered. "good-fucking-night."

its true: jiyong knew you like the back of his hand. no matter how he got on your nerves sometimes (with love, of course.) however, as your five month anniversary went by, and you rang in the start of the 21st century together ("we survived y2k, baby. i think this calls for some celebration." "just finish your cig in peace, ji."), you realized you didn't really . . . know him. like, some of the basics. here's some context—what initially tipped you off was something completely unrelated: a conversation that arose when you were out with friends; out at brunch at a local diner, taking up an entire booth, catching up after some time apart. an anecdote filled your ears: "we went all the way to his mom's for his little brother's birthday," a friend was recounting her previous weekend with her boyfriend; the tinkering of silverware and iced teas decorating the air. "it was fun. the food was so good—i haven't stopped thinking about the baked ziti." a wave of chuckles spread around the booth, including from you. as she went on, your inner monologue took your attention away from your french toast: does jiyong have a sibling? i think he mentioned having an older sister before . . . but where does he live? oh my god—where does he live?

you grabbed your glass of water, taking a sip, mentally going down the rabbit hole. does his mom live with him? are his parents divorced? i mean, with his dad's work, its highly unlikely . . . but still—what's his family like? holy shit, i don't even know his favorite fucking movie. now the standing question is was this a product of your own actions, or was he just secretive to the point it all fell under the radar? it felt complex and confusing, and also as if the universe was targeting you directly. the next thing cemented it: the mention of your name from someone in the group took you out of your head. "hm? what's up?" you muttered. "does jiyong have any hobbies?" you have got to be kidding me. you thought to yourself, out of everything i could've been asked. and i don't even fucking know. the look on her face was almost knowing, but in a different way. the subtle snarkiness ruminated in some of your friends since you told them you and jiyong were dating—a product of not having the gall to ask you about his family directly, you've figured. "he does," you quickly said, nodding. "he likes making mixtapes—" "has he made you one?" "yeah, he has. a couple, actually." you nodded again. now lay off; and she did.

not only was jiyong the type to know what he wanted, but he knew when something was up. a lifetime in a household riddled with conflict will do that to you. he doted on your cheek with sweet kisses, remnants of your shared desire sporadically sprinkled throughout the hotel room the following weekend. his arms were wrapped around your naked body, bringing you closer to his own whilst he lowly hummed in content—but you weren't paying attention, and deliberately so. your eyes remained glue to the uninteresting re-run playing on the late night television channel. jiyong was losing his patience, but kept himself leveled: "is something on your mind, baby?" he asked gently. "no." you responded curtly. he pursed his lips, "your pout says different." you let out a huff, defeated, turning your head towards him. a moment passed before you spoke: "i don't know you." you blurted. immediately confused, jiyong's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" "i mean—" you shook your head, "let me explain." you turned to face him fully. "the other day, i was out with my friends. one of them talked about, like, going to her boyfriend's mom's house for a birthday party, and i just thought about how i didn't even know where you live. like, what part of the city, or something." you thought aloud.

your effort to find your words subconsciously led you to sit up in bed, hand out as if you were rifling through the metaphorical word bank. "like, i don't even know what your favorite movie is, ji." you shook your head. "the godfather." he joked, shit-eating grin on his face; head propped against his palm, elbow on his pillow. "this is what i fucking mean!" you exclaimed, gesturing towards him. "be for real, jiyong. now's not the time." "okay, okay. i'm sorry," he apologized, sitting up himself. "i'm not really one for movies." he said. "i'm more into tv—like twin peaks. i really like that show." you looked at him. your subtle pout made you look kissable to the level of a federal offense. "what's your favorite ice cream flavor?" "easy: rocky road." answered jiyong. he looked at you for the next question, but it didn't feel satisfactory. nothing did. your face sunk into your palms. "i don't even know where you live, jiyong." you repeated, albeit with an added sense of self-pity. "that's, like, the first thing someone knows about their significant other. i said 'i love you' before i even knew whether you live on a fucking cul-de-sac, or some shit."

his chest felt heavy. he knew you were right. perhaps his efforts of protecting you from the mess of his life backfired. he didn't feel the need to be retaliatory or on the offense, but instead owned up to it. "i'm sorry." he muttered. "no, jiyong. don't apologize," you shook your head. "that's not what i—you know what . . . i don't even know what i meant. just—just forget it." "no, don't do that." he tsked, shaking his head. "that's the last thing we should do right now. c'mere, baby." he scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you, bringing your head to his shoulder. "i'm not the best at being open." he murmured, only for your ears to hear. "but i'm going to try my best to change that—for you. you hear me?" he kissed your temple. "its the least i could fuckin' do." he thought aloud. a long breath left his lungs, eyes fluttering closed, letting himself feel the uncomfortable emotions stirring in his chest. "how about i bring you around tomorrow before i drop you home?" he spoke into your supple skin, pressing a kiss. "my parents won't be home, so it won't be a lot at once. but it'll be a start. how's that sound, baby?" "okay. as long as you're good with it." you said. "i'm more than good with it." he assured with a nod. "you're the person i trust the most, y'know."

his family's house was beautiful. lived in, personal, and not intimidating whatsoever—in fact, it was normal. luxurious, yes, but normal. he lived in a gated community lined with homes with price tags you could only imagine, parking his car on the driveway made with any regular asphalt (you felt asinine for being compelled by such a small detail, but couldn't blame yourself either). the few granite steps leading to the front door were lined with potted flowers in bloom on either end. you had hardly any time to take in just how fucking wide the door was, because before you knew it, paws were pitter-pattering on the floor, followed by a handful of barks. "this is rodney." jiyong bent down after taking his shoes off, scratching behind the beagle's ears. "we got him for my older sister when she turned sixteen. i didn't name him that nerdy shit—she did."

jiyong then gave a tour: the wall of family photos that lined the left side of the hallway leading to the kitchen—the frames aged yet elegant (the portraits weren't giving jcpenney but a friend of a friend of a friend who knows an exclusive french photographer, and mixed in effortlessly with developed photos from disposable cameras and polaroids from family reunions); a descriptive yet comedic detailing of the food in the fridge after you mentally got over how spacious the kitchen island is ("this sliced meat right here—my dad's gone to the same butcher since he was a kid. oh, and this tupperware—my mom's bulgogi marinade is top tier." "i can't wait to try it one day, ji." "you will, baby. you will."); peeking out the windows on the lited doors serving as an entryway into the backyard, staring at the pool before harkening your attention back to him standing in the living room, the couch and nintendo 64 between you two ("me, and this couch. like this—" he crossed his fingers. "every thursday at nine for twin peaks." "no wonder you disappear." "prior obligations, baby."); to finally his bedroom, with rodney filing in and settling into his duvet whilst showed you his cds ("wu-tang clan changed my life." "can i borrow it to listen to it sometime?" "its like you want me to drop everything and propose right now." "its never ending with you, jiyong.")

when rodney decided he was over it, he jumped down and left the room, allotting the bed to you and jiyong. some time later, you laid comfortably atop the duvet, fingers entangled in jiyong's hair as your lips molded against his, his palms tenderly rubbing up and down your side. from time to time, you grew flustered, breaking the kiss and turning away, beckoned back to him upon his lips trailing from your cheek to the corner of your mouth. when it happened for the third time, a smile stretched his mouth. "hey," his breath was hot against your cheek, deepening your sheepish state. "come back here. stop doing that, baby." he purposefully elongated the last syllable, kissing your supple skin slowly. "don't get all shy on me." "i don't know," you muttered. "sneaking over to my boyfriend's house . . . making out with him in his bedroom . . . getting all shy like this. its like i'm finally experiencing what everyone else did when they were sixteen." you looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "does that sound stupid?" "not at all," jiyong shook his head, admiration apparent in his eyes. "you're so fucking cute that it pisses me off sometimes." he laughed at your scoff and eye roll, leaning closer when you nudged him away. "like, i get to be your baby. can you believe that?" "you're always on the brink of being my enemy." "that's hot." "jesus—its never ending!"

slowly ushering you into his life began to mend some things. he pushed aside those movie dates where you sat at the back of the theater, lips together like there was some sort of magnetic force; the gelato café where you've tried every flavor twice and repeatedly beat him at chess on the set out for customers; you two fighting the glitchy atm as he tries to deposit money to pay the overpriced rental rates for pattleboats at a nearby waterfront ("its like the universe doesn't want me to ride the dragon paddleboat." "you sound more like me everyday, ji.") for a restaurant his family has frequented since he was a kid. it was lavish and elegant—yet a sense of community was palpable. jiyong greeted the hostess like he's known her his entire life (because he has), cooly pulling out your chair out for you before settling in himself. he had a pristine suit on coupled with the watch he met you in, wearing them both with ease like a second skin of sorts, ordering the chicken parm for the both of you ("its the best dish and also ginormous") and a wine you were pretty sure had three digits after the dollar sign on the menu.

as out-of-body of an experience this was, you felt you blended in somewhat. it was all in your outfit: a long sleeve red dress that draped just above your knees, complemented by black tights, pearl earrings jiyong gifted you for christmas, and a coat to protect from the bitter winter cold outside. jiyong could tell you were uneasy at first, eyes lingering on you whilst the waiter poured water into your glasses, seeing you try to hide your pensive expression with a grin. "c'mere," he called softly, arm draped on the back of your chair. "see that lady over there? the one with the blue silk top?" "mhm." "has some of the worst french tips you've ever seen. she used to babysit me when i was a kid—shit was in my nightmares." "what a way to reach consciousness." you giggled, making him smile. "i know, right?" he concurred, looking around. "oh—that guy over there, by the plant," he pointed to the right. "he was caught with his twenty-one year old secretary. his wife took the kids—think they're about my age now—he went to turkey and got a hair transplant." he wanted for it to be in view. "move your head, motherfucker." jiyong muttered, glancing at you when you nudged his shoulder. "jiyong!" you chuckled. "what? i wanna show you—look! now!" he whispered. you were taken aback. "i'll be for real with you: i would've never guessed." his commentary was disarming and helped you relax; the kiss he planted on your cheek helping his case.

you felt the fleeting glances from others in the restaurant throughout the night. everyone really knows each other, you thought to yourself as you cut into the chicken parm. however, it wasn't attached to a flare of vitriol or scoping-out-the-fresh-meat, like your one friend would suggest if she knew where you were tonight, but with an air of curiosity and gentle would you look at that? before returning to their business. many, if not all of your fellow diners, were older and had known jiyong his entire life. it was tight-knit, exclusive—further illustrated by the aunties that came up to your table when you finished your meal and were waiting on dessert, doting on him with "you've grown up so well," and smiles brightening even more so upon seeing you. what topped it all off was when an elderly man greeted jiyong at your table in the midst of sharing a small plate of flan, followed by his wife and two younger children—all dressed to the nines. jiyong shot up from his seat, extending his hand, only to be pulled into a hug. you quickly figured this was one of his uncles, standing to your feet after jiyong said your name: "this is my girlfriend," you walked around the table, smiling politely. after making introductory small talk, you returned to your seat, not seeing the uncle grab jiyong's elbow: "you look married." he muttered, making jiyong chuckle, nodding.

"blood-related?" you asked him a moment or two later, glancing at the family being seated on the opposite end of the room. "take a guess." said jiyong, wiping the caramel drizzle from the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. "hm. . ." you thought aloud. you genuinely considered it: they shared a similar cadence and held their postures akin to looking into mirrors, but something in you said it was otherwise. "i'm gonna say no." you looked at him, hearing his spoon tinker against the porcelain plate. you shrugged your shoulders, "intuition, i guess." jiyong swallowed his bite of flan, smiling afterward. "what?" you questioned. "did i get it right?" jiyong nodded. "you did, yeah. he's my dad's oldest business partner. used to take me on fishing trips—it was him that shocked me the most when i put the pieces together, y'know?" "mhm. i see, i see." you nodded. you scooped some flan in your spoon, slipping it into your mouth. you sat back on your chair, letting out a breath as your arms crossed over your chest. jiyong couldn't help his grin—you looked like a natural. "you're gonna fit in well here." he told you. "i barely know what i'm doing." you said. "well," he countered. "there's nothing to know. i'm just . . . . me. you just need to be you."

you grabbed your wine glass, stirring it with a subtle rotation of the stem held by your fingers. "i told my parents about us." said jiyong. "you did?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed, taking another sip. jiyong nodded, "i told my mom, like, two weeks after we met. she was so excited." he tried to act cool about it, but you saw through the sudden avoidant eye contact and nervous chuckle; amused grin on your face. "how about your dad?" you set your glass down. "he found out through her." explained jiyong, seeing you nod. "then—then he tried to ask me about you like he didn't know. he's not that good at being subtle." he shook his head, smile stretching his mouth hearing your laughter. his family sounded sweet and admirable, a stark contrast from their perceived reputation. a product of being multi-faceted and cunning, you figured, but you found it endearing nonetheless. "would you—" jiyong cleared his throat. you knew what was coming. "would you ever tell your parents about me?" "absolutely," you answered without hesitation. "they might, y'know, stop drop and roll to the hospital. but they're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, quite frankly."

jiyong smiled so big that his eyes kissed in the corners. "that's right." he chuckled, nodding. "would they be more calm if there was a diamond on your ring finger?" you gave him a look, eyes narrowing a little. "i think that might induce cardiac arrest, but not before it does me—because i know you're not about to get down on one knee right now." "i'm not!" he smiled, shaking his head. "i promise, i'm not! well, not yet—" "—jiyong." "its just an idea!" he defended. "to think about!" you tsked, unable to hide your grin, watching as he took the checkbook from the waiter. "yeah, okay," you nodded. "think about it, silently, to yourself as you pay the bill." "mhm, mhm." he nodded, biting his bottom lip; utmost failure of keeping his smile at bay, placing his card into the book and handing it back to the waiter. "you don't see us doing that, though?" he wondered aloud. "if i say yes, you can't use it against me and make me all flustered and shit." "i can't promise you that." "well, then i guess you'll never know." jiyong smiled knowingly. "think i got my answer, baby."

as the good fluttered in, so did the bad. things got real rather quickly—in every meaning of the word. it wasn't that you were naive and expected some adrenaline-pumping life with jiyong. he was normal, and just a person whom was born into circumstances out of his control. he felt so lucky to have found someone so generous and grounding, accepting of his family without materialistic expectations or with a looming hunger for intel. you wanted him for him; the good, but also the ugly—no matter how visceral it may be. living a life of nuance wasn't a culture shock. everyone experienced it in their own respective lives, whether it was what you perused for at the grocery store, how you were raised, the car you drove, your personal quirks, your defining experiences; the list was endless. jiyong's just happened to be the talk of the city, and on full public display when he was pushed to the edge. so when he showed up to your window on a late thursday night, knocking softly and one when your bedroom door was closed (the rules you established long ago), with small cuts on his face and a bruise forming on his chin, you didn't know what to do.

"h-hey baby," he smiled—an effort to fight his increasingly glossy eyes. "how are—how's it going?" "ji," your voice was quiet, taking the sight of him in. "what . . . what happened?" "uh—" he licked his lips, wiping a fallen tear, seeing it mixed with a droplet of blood leaked from a cut on his eyebrow. its now or never, he thought to himself. "y'know how—y'know how when he first met, i told you sometimes some guys try to give me trouble?" he sniffled. you nodded, "yeah." "well, sometimes," he sucked in a breath. "sometimes i let them." the shame felt atomic. it all happened so quickly . . . out to dinner with his friends . . . having a smoke in the parking lot outside . . . the son of his father's many business partners that's been on the brink of being ousted coming up to him . . . the beef trickling back to jiyong, the eldest and only son of his father's, having to take the heat . . . next thing he knew, he was flooring it to your apartment complex, his face pulsating.

he shook his head. "i didn't have anywhere else to go." he looked at you pleadingly. "its—its—" hard to explain, his inner monologue finished, but he couldn't get the words out. "do you . . . do you have a first aid kit?" his voice fell to a whisper. a moment went by before you responded, everything starting to sink in. "i do have something—" "—t-thank you!" he let out a breath. he grabbed your hands, kissing your inner wrists. "i'm so sorry b-baby. i didn't mean to scare you—i love you so fucking much." he cried. "hey, ji, i need you to breath." you brought him back down to earth, watching him inhale and exhale shakily. "you stay here and out of sight until i get back." you motioned to the brick wall to your left. he's done it before, hiding himself during a close call with your parents early in your relationship. "okay?" "y-yeah." he nodded. "don't—don't take long." "i won't."

you did what you could with the tools at your disposal: a bottle of antiseptic that's been lodged in the bathroom cabinet for years in case it was needed; applying it to his cuts with a cotton round, neosporin that was bought recently after your dad nipped his finger fixing a loose hinge on a kitchen cabinet, and a pack of bandaids that have been there as long as the antiseptic. it wasn't much, but it did the job. jiyong didn't have it in him to hiss at the slight stinging, let alone scrunch his face up in muted discomfort. you two sat in silence, you carefully placing the bandaid on his eyebrow as best you could, your other hand lifting his hair so it wouldn't stick to the adhesive. "do you wanna tell me what happened?" you spoke quietly, fingers fixing his hair. jiyong shook his head. "its fucking embarrassing." a beat went by. "i don't wanna scare you—or something." "you wouldn't. its not embarrassing to tell your girlfriend about something, ji." you told him. he recounted the night as best he could, but didn't lift his head to look at you; falling into mutters when it got to the more sensitive parts. it left you bewildered, but accepting—there wasn't any other choice.

"i'm sorry, jiyong." your hand rubbed his bicep tenderly. "you don't deserve that pressure. no one does." "it can get real fuckin' tough." he nodded, feeling the tears brew again. "like there's no way out sometimes. just gotta suck it up, y'know?" he looked up at you, sniffling. "i know." you whispered. "can i—" he let out a shaky breath. "can i stay here tonight?" "you know that's not possible, ji." you said—your parents down the hall. "i know," he nodded quickly, wiping his cheek. "but i just—i had to ask. how about the hotel? do you wanna go?" "i have work early in the morning." "oh shit—yeah. i forgot. sorry." he muttered. he knew this was coming: he'd have to deal with these emotions himself. he wasn't new to this, but it would've been nice to spend the night with his love. "its okay." you assured, reaching for his hand. "can you—can you hold me? i'm sorry, i don't wanna be a burden—" "—shut up." you cut him off, pulling him into your embrace. he nuzzled his face into your neck nearly immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, eyes closing at the feel of your hands traveling up his back, settling behind his shoulders. you talked to him in a way that would resonate: "when you're the love of my fucking life, there's no such thing as being a burden." you whispered into his ear. "do you fucking hear me, ji? hm?" "yes." he responded meekly, holding onto you tighter.

your palm smoothened his hair, petting the back of his head like he’d wither away at any second. “i told my parents about us.” “you did?” he expected the worst. “what did … what did they say?” “they brought up your dad,” sounds about right, jiyong thought to himself. “which is surprising, since they usually keep to themselves, so i didn’t expect them to know. but i guess if you don’t talk, you listen.” you thought aloud, hearing and feeling jiyong hum as he listened. he opened his eyes, pondering if he should say what was brewing in his head. i’ve spilled so much tonight, he figured, might as well. “what did you say?” he asked. “i told them they have no idea what they’re talking about,” his eyes fluttered closed, holding you closer. “and left it at that.” he felt his face grow hot. “would they—would they ever wanna meet me?” “funnily enough, my mom asked me this morning before she left for work.” your hand traced up and down his arm. “between you and i,” you grinned. “she looked a little excited at the prospect.” “really?” jiyong lifted his head. “that's—that’s amazing.” a twinkle returned to his eyes. “we can take her to val’s,” the restaurant he took you to, “anything she wants, she gets. i don’t give a fuck how high the bill is.” he shook his head, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “what about your dad?” “he’ll come around.” you said. you saw his face drop a little. “it’ll take some time, but he’ll come around. i promise.” your hand came up, fingers fixing his hair, though it looked fine; you just wanted to be near him. jiyong nodded, turning his head to kiss your palm before leaning in, bringing his lips to yours. “i don’t know where i’d be without you.” “me neither.”

the next several months were smooth sailing. your first valentine’s was spent at val’s before making the headboard bash into the wall at the hotel—the bouquet of roses jiyong gave you sitting idly next to the gifts you got for one another on the tv stand. come spring, you met his family! not only his immediate, but most of his extended, as well. it called for extensive preparation: “what do i wear?” you asked him from your end of the line, mobile flip phone held between your ear and shoulder as you reached for your go-to cereal. “i don’t know—something casual?” jiyong lugged his laundry bag down the basement stairs. “its a fuckin’ dog’s birthday party. wear anything you want.” he let out a breath, lifting the top of the washer open. “no, jiyong,” you huffed, pouring your cereal into your bowl. “be for real. i’m not showing up in jeans. tell me so i can thrift accordingly.” “thrift? fuck no. i’m taking you to the mall to figure this out. what time’s your shift end?” “two.” you looked at the time on the oven—you had to be out the door in twenty minutes. “great,” you heard jiyong as you chewed. “we’ll be there at two-thirty.”

rodney’s adoption day party was as lively as a graduation or wedding engagement celebration. the love was in the air, specifically an excuse for a huge family to get together and eat good food. jiyong’s mother dashed over to you in her kitten heels before her son could utter a mere syllable, harnessing the most welcoming aura. “you’re more beautiful than i ever could’ve imagined, oh my goodness!” she seemed like the happiest person in the world, holding your face so softly in her hands as if you were god-sent. she took the boxed tiramisu you brought with a look of appreciation, taking your hand in hers, and effectively away from jiyong as she brought you to the festivities in the backyard; much to his chagrin. “how’re you feeling?” jiyong asked when his mother was beckoned away by an in law, hand on your lower back. “a lot of things,” you nodded. “many things—good things. colliding.” he chuckled. “good,” he nodded. “come here, we’ll start with my cousins.”

no one had to tell you his father was the one standing on the opposite end of the poolside, the way he carried himself did the talking. he was conversing with a small group when jiyong brought you over. he was half an inch taller than jiyong, never faltering his posture, even when extending his hand to shake yours. you were so fucking nervous, looking up at him with your best smile and polite greeting. it was like he knew, because what he said next was so disarming it nearly made you dizzy: “i’d usually be a lot less formal with my son’s girlfriend, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold with these guys.” he gestured his head to the right. you let out a laugh, missing him patting jiyong’s shoulder and giving him an approving, re-assuring wink. you went to motherfucking town on that bulgogi, coupled with bottomless in-house mimosas (“compliments to the chef, your mom—holy shit.” “that’s what i’m saying!”); surprised when rodney recognized you after only meeting a couple times, delighted when he came over and sat by your feet (“you’re his mommy.” “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”); or him watching happily when you got along with one of his older cousins, talking to her about coldplay’s upcoming record. a job well done; a new chapter opened.

you were invited frequently back to his house for dinner thereafter. your parents did come around, treated to dinner at val's—jiyong answering whatever questions your father threw at him with unbridled ease. finally, after all this time, it felt as if things were falling into place. so much so that when it came time for his birthday, several weeks after celebrating your first year together, you took a page out of his book: making a mixtape. sure, your family computer was running like a jet engine by the end of it … and you picked up an album of an artist he likes just in case it didn’t work … along with something else … but its the thought that counts, right? right. you handed him the small gift bag before after he climbed out your bedroom window, ready to say goodnight. “happy birthday, my love.” you held his face, bringing your lips to his. “thank you, baby.” he smiled. “what is it?” you tsked, making him chuckle. “open it when you get home. its just … a little something.” “a little something?” “a token for you to remember me by.” you grinned, referring to his family’s week long trip visiting his elder sister and brother-in-law, set to fly out early in the morning. “your dramatic ass.” he teased, giving you a sweet kiss. “i love you. i’ll be back before you know it.” “i love you too,” you rested your hands on the windowsill, watching him descend down the fire escape. “page me when you get home—drive safe!” “i will!”

the mixtape worked, holy shit! he read the accompanying card with a grin on his face, heart doubled in size, practically seeping out of his pores when he opened a greatest hits cd of one of his favorite artists. he set them down on his nightside table, peering into the bag and seeing a box was left. he fished it out—it looked like it would house jewelry, nothing bigger than that. did she get me a bracelet? necklace, maybe? he wondered, lifting the lid. what stared back at him was unmistakable ribbed knit black fabric, lined with what looked to be white elastic hemming tucked into the sides; half of the brand name visible. “holy fucking shit.” he whispered to himself. he’s seen you wear this pair before—better yet, he’s taken it off of you before. he picked the folded underwear out of the box, watching it dangle off his fingers in awe. a thought flashed in his mind. he leaned in, inhaling. then he inhaled again. and again. and again. is that why she went to the bathroom before i left? to fucking pack this—he inhaled sharply, looking down and seeing how hard he was through his shorts. holy fuck.

he triple checked that his bedroom door was locked, taking an extra precaution and lodging the top of his desk chair underneath the handle. jiyong kicked his shorts and briefs off, laying comfortably in bed. he took a deep breath, beginning to stroke himself. he started slow, not wanting to work himself up too quickly. he stared at your underwear held in his palm, letting it dangle onto the linen before scooping it back up, teeth raking over his bottom lip. “look how hard you made me, b-baby—s-shit!” he whispered to himself, stomach curling inward, that fucking knot in his abdomen already threatening him. “look how hard you made your jiyongie.” the amount of precum he already had was (to him) embarrassing, making him grip his stiffened dick more firmly to prevent it from slipping; inadvertently making his mind numb and toes curl. “f-fuck!” he mewled. “keep—keep f-fucking me, b-baby! keep fucking jiyongie just like that—a-agh!” his voice escaped into a higher register, almost invisible in his broken whisper. he pressed the back of his hand against his lips to quiet himself, bringing your underwear back to his nose, eyes rolling back upon catching your scent again. a vein popped onto his temple, sweat building on his forehead—eyes shut, thinking of how your skin jiggles every time he fucks you; the way you look up at him before taking his dick in your warm mouth; the thought of you taking your underwear off in the bathroom and packing it for him.

“o-oh my god!” he whimpered. without thinking, he wrapped your underwear around his dick the best his horned-out mind could, fucking his fist. “c-can’t h-help it, b-baby—can’t hold it in—f-fuck!” he came so hard, feeling it bleed through the fabric and trail down his balls. he breathed so hard he could power a fucking windmill, body feeling like jelly as he aimlessly reached for his jeans on the floor, fishing out his flip phone and speed-dialing you. all you heard was his heavy breathing: “hello? ji?” “i’m gonna f-fucking marry you.” he huffed, chest heaving. “what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, the microphone a little muffled. “is everything okay?” “i said—” he licked his lips. “i said i’m gonna marry you—a-agh! f-fucking—f-fuck.” he whimpered into the microphone, his mewls making it all click. you looked down at your thighs, heat brewing between them. “did you—” you swallowed. “did you like your gift?” “like it?” jiyong huffed. “baby, i—i came in it.” how could she act all innocent when she knows what she’s doing? oh my god—i’m gonna get hard all over again, his inner monologue rambled, breathing finally leveling. your jaw fell, catching it quickly behind your palm. “good to—good to know.” you muttered, hiding your face from no one. i wonder if that hotel would accept guests at one in the morning … you thought to yourself.

by the end of your second summer together, there was a stack of photos on your dresser—developed from various disposable cameras. most were from the same barbecue, beginning with a photo of you and a friend making drinks in the kitchen; the snacks lining the counter; the small bonfire that somehow became overexposed when developed; jiyong giving a thumbs up when the flash went off—a tester photo when you thought you fucked the camera up; you and your friends trying to coordinate a photo; you in the middle with jiyong and seunghyun (you finally know who he is! he’ll never let that inside joke go) on either side of you; and two of you and jiyong smiling grandly in both—the first with his arms around you sweetly; the second he calls “just let your dad handcuff me right now,” his hands visibly on your ass, cigarette hanging between his lips as he grinned. he couldn’t help the very characteristic thing he said after picking the photos up from the department store, rifling through them with you in his car: “damn. we look hot as fuck, baby.”

honey's tag list! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf; @infinetlyforgotten; @riddlerloveb0t; @mesopotamism; @pepsicolapussi; @breakmeoff

#kwon jiyong #gdragon #kwon jiyong x reader #kwon jiyong imagine #kwon jiyong smut #gdragon x reader #gdragon imagine #gdragon smut #bigbang #bigbang imagine #bigbang x reader #g dragon #g dragon imagine #g dragon x reader #kpop #jiyong #jiyong smut #jiyong imagine #jiyong x reader

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saidrabbles · 5 months ago

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vulnerable

pairing: g-dragon x reader warnings: none word count: 1.1k

— this is for anyone that feels like a burden to others if they dare open up about their feelings —

jiyong slides in his chair, letting out an exasperated sigh. music production has been so stressful, trying to meet the high expectations put on his name. g-dragon. sometimes, he wishes he can run away from this name, from his genius producer reputation. but he loves music, his fans and...he wouldn't have met you.

he met his girlfriend of three months now through mutual friends, and he couldn't be more thankful. you're everything to him, which is why your reply made him sulk.

jy: hi baby, are you free tonight? ;) y/n: hii my beloved, im sorryy :( work has piled up and i see no escape. i'll be busy for the next few days :(

several days is way too long of a time without seeing you. "i don't blame her, i'm struggling the same with my work. but i would love to see her for an hour or two." he was ranting to his bestfriend, taeyang, on the phone with a visible sulk in his voice. "i think you should tell her that jiyong, maybe she was too stressed to think of meeting for a few hours."

he was staring at the demo he produced a few hours ago, his mind thinking of ways to make the song sound better. he forgot taeyang, still on the other side of the call, but a feminine voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "did she say she's busy with work for a few days?" "yeah, why?" he cleared his voice, "uhm guys, what are you on about?"

hyorin, taeyang's wife, sounded worried. "i think you should go check up on her, jiyong-ssi." he sat straight in his seat "why? what does it mean when she says she's busy?" hyorin sighed on the other end, "i can't talk in detail about it because it's not my place but, (y/n) has struggled with being vulnerable because of a previous relationship." he stood up fully now, rushing to save his work. "i coincidentally went to visit her with a meal when she said she was busy, and she was having a breakdown...she thinks she will be a burden if she made people rush to her side everytime she's going through something." his heart felt like it stopped working, like it malfunctioned. why would she...she's not comfortable with me?...

you heard a knock on your apartment door and you started wiping your tears, the delivery man doesn't need to be seeing dried tears and puffy eyes, you tried to joke. "you can leave it just on the inside-" you were super-glued to your place. it wasn't the delivery man. "ji-jiyong?" your voice came out thick from all the crying you did. "can i please come in?" his voice was almost a whisper, like he is afraid to raise it any higher in case you run the other way.

you silently opened the door wider to allow him in, not knowing what to do with yourself. run, hide, don't show him your weakness. your traumatised mind was screaming at you, but you were still glued in-front of the gentlest man you've ever met. his eyes had an expression you couldn't read; pain? guilt? sadness..?

your body starts forcing you to walk into the living room, but before you turned around he leaped and wrapped his arms around your waist, his head leaning into your shoulder, engulfing you whole. you stayed in your place, you didn't understand what was happening. "(y/n)" he breathed again. "(y/n)" he breathed out, "why are you crying, alone, when i'm here?" you felt your body shaking, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your head into the crook of his neck in an attempt to hide from the confession he was asking of you.

you held him tighter, and he returned it by pulling you closer to him. "it's not about you" your voice was more of a whisper than anything. "i know baby" you shifted in his arms, "you know?" he slowly started drawing circles on the small of your back. "hyorin told me a bit about it, but" he placed a kiss on the top of your head as he rested his chin on the top of your head, "who in their right mind would not want to hold you in their arms, like this, and smell your floral shampoo?" he tried to lighten the mood.

"a whiny, clingy person" you started "that's what he told me when i called him, needing reassurance." at which point did your tears started pooling around your eyes again, you don't know, but you notice how jiyong starts swaying the both of you gently right and left, like he's telling you he's listening. he knew you still had more to say. "i'm the type of person that holds it in, i don't complain unless i've suppressed my emotions for too long. at some point in my relationship, he started sighing anytime i tried to express how i'm feeling.." you started crying, but wanted to continue,

"so, i stopped telling anyone how i feel. every time i tried to speak, my mind would start to attack me, scream at me, and it shut me up." you hid your face in his chest as you cried your heart out. you let out all of your pent-up feelings to another human being after all this time. it wasn't just anyone, it was to the person that mattered the most to you. his arms melted away your sadness, stress, frustration. after what felt like hours, your cries were now sniffles, slowly settling into this newly cleansed heart.

you felt jiyong pull away, and pull you with him over to the couch in the living room. he sat you down, held your tear-stained face ever so gently, wiping any escaping tear from your (e/c) eyes. "your vulnerability" he kissed the space between your brows "is what you makes you human" he kissed your left cheek "becoming someone you can lean on," he kissed your right cheek "is a great honour for me." he kisses your nose "i want to know your everything, i want you to cry only in my arms, and to complain when life feels unfair." he grazed his thumb over your lower lip.

he slowly leaned in, placing a feather-like kiss. you smiled as he kissed you again, deepening the kiss, like he's sealing the promise he made to you with his warm, soft lips. you melted, feeling your mind settle into an unheard whisper. he rested his forehead on yours, sighing happily.

"i love you, kwon jiyong." he giggled at the mention of his full name, "i love you too, (y/n) (l/n)." you were both giggling at this point. you settled on his lap, as he held you close to his chest. feeling his heartbeat, you felt yourself come home. "thank you, my dearest." he reassuringly squeezed your upper arm. "always, my most beloved."

a/n: im working on a gdragon x reader slow burn friends to lovers reuqested by anon, but enjoy this scenario written by yours truly :)

#drabbles #imagines #scenarios #writing #gdragon #kwon jiyong #gdragon x reader #fanfic #oneshots #bigbang #gdragon power #mama 2024 #kwon jiyong x reader

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sturnsstars · 12 days ago

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sex with ji-yong except you’re both bottoms so you’re both gently touching each other while both becoming whimpering messes

ripping my clothes off asap

lmk if i should write for this😊

#like #headcanons #smut #follow #bigbang #gdragon #jiyong #fluff #kwon jiyong #im a wh0re #imagine

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angel-writes-here · 8 days ago

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Covenant

Choi Seunghyun x AFAB! Reader x G-Dragon Synopsis: Jiyong shows up at your door, but what does he want? What will Seunghyun think? Warnings: SMUT! Oral (both receiving) unprotected p in v (Wrap it up!) fingering. Angst, fluff A/N: Part 7!! Due to my torture of the last two chapters I was excited to get this out! Enjoy my sweets! As usual, comment if you want to be added my tag list! ❣ Part 6

Your stare at him for only a second before you go to shut the door in his face, but Jiyong stops it with his foot.

“I don’t want you here,” you spat as you try to shove the door closed, but he won’t budge.

“I know,” is all he can say as he pushes the door back open and pushes past you into the room.

“Get out!” You stare him down, anger bubbling in your veins.

“I know you’re mad, but,”

“Mad? You think I’m fucking mad? I’m livid! I’m fucking furious.” You throw your hands and up as your chest heaves. The emotions won’t stay down any longer. Jiyong wanted to be in the room, well now he gets it.

All of it.

“I’m in a loveless marriage where we were supposed to be working on things and yet when we get home, after my sister fucking died, his fucking side piece is on what’s supposed to be our couch! I was alone! He left me alone our first night back home, spiraling in my head. I couldn’t call you because I was so pissed off. You left me alone, Seunghyun left me alone and you kept me from saying goodbye to the only person I was sure loved me in this entire world,” your stepping towards him now. All you can see is red.

“I care about two men who don’t seem to truly give a flying fuck about me or what I want or how I feel.” You point at his chest.

“And I don’t fucking want you here,” you seethe as a blow hits his chest. He stands there, motionless, letting you get it all out.

“Get out!” You start banging on his chest like a mad woman. He looks at you with sorrow in his eyes, but your anger has control, blows keep coming as he slowly raises his arms and catches yours.

“Y/n,” he tries to speak but you struggle against him, tears flowing free down your face.

“Stop, listen to me,” he tries to calm you down.

“NO, get out get out get out!” you repeat. You struggle against his grip but it’s too strong. It’s no use fighting him.

Your resolve breaks and you stop fighting, choosing to crash into his chest instead, where his arms are wrapped you and his head rests on yours as you sob into his chest.

“I swear I fucking hate you,” you choke out a slight pain in your chest mainifesting. Jiyong’s heart aches, but he tells himself it’s the pain talking. Your cries intensify as he holds you, his eyes shut, trying to keep himself together at the sound of your anguish.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. My life wasn’t supposed to go this way,” your hands fist his shirt.

He slowly leads you over to the bed, crawling on top of it, allowing you to lay with him.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers into your hair. Your wailing is unstoppable at this point.

“I have to fucking bury her tomorrow,” you sniffle as your eyes begin to ache.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.” He rubs your arm with his nails, a soothing comfort in the moment of distress.

“I can’t do it,” you whisper.

“Don’t even worry about it, ok? You just show up. Seunghyun and I will take it from there,” he reassures you.

“Why would you help me?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you help me?” you look up at him, eyes glassy and puffy. He rubs circles on your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Because I loved your sister and,” he takes a deep breath, “I love you,” he says before capturing your lips in a short sweet kiss. He pulls away and you look at him, then down to his lips again. You crane your neck upwards and kiss his lips again, this time more desperate.

“We,” he begins but another kiss causes him to pause, “can’t,” his body betrays him, pulling you into his lap.

“Fuck him,” you whisper against his lips as your hips grind down against his.

“Y/n, you’re still married,” he says between kisses. Your hands go to the buttons on his shirt.

“Jiyong, please,” your voice is desperate. You are desperate, desperate to not feel alone right now, desperate to feel like someone cares, desperate to feel anything but pain and suffering.

“Please,” you plead again as the first few buttons come undone.

“He doesn’t even take care of me, leaves me needy while he takes care of another woman in what was supposed to be our house, our bed,” you explain as the last button pops his shirt open. He slides it off, one final look between your eyes before he caves.

He caresses your cheeks as he pulls your face to him, the kiss strong, full of unspoken words, full of passion and longing, full of everything that had been boiling under the surface the last year and a half.

You kiss down his neck, tongue licking and teeth nibbling on the soft skin. His hand finds the back of your head. A small hickey is left on his collarbone as you work your way down his torso.

“Wait,” he says as you get to his waistband. You look up, a lustful daze clear in your eyes. This is all that matters right now. Not the pain, not the bull shit contract, not the pain of losing your sister and your husband, just Jiyong.

Feeling him.

Tasting him.

“This is about you right now,” he murmurs.

“I want you,” you whisper as your fingers dance around the waistband of his pants.

“I want to taste you,” you almost whimper. Jiyong can feel the straining in his pants, his cock growing harder as images flood of his mind of what you’d look like with your pretty mouth around him.

Your lips on his pelvis pull him back to reality, the skin warm as you press teasing kisses to it.

Your fingers wrap around the waistband of his pants, pulling them down and you watch him spring free, precum already leaking out. Your stomach tenses, heat flooding your body. You squeeze your thighs together at the thought of how good he would feel. You look at Jiyong who’s stiff as a board.

“Relax,” you chuckle seductively as your hand rubs up his thigh. You see his body shake slightly as he inhales.

You look him in the eye as you slowly wrap your fingers around the hard, warm flesh, smearing his juices on his cock to help your hand glide better.

Jiyong’s eyes flutter closed and you stop your hand.

“Look at me,” you command and he forces his eyes open. You go back to the movement, eye contact tense as you can feel him shift beneath you at your teasingly slow pace.

“Fuck, I need you,” he breathes out. You smirk before licking a strip up the underneath side of his shaft, wrapping your lips around the head, teasing his slit with your tongue. The salty taste hits your tongue, something about it addicting.

Jiyong’s mouth falls open as he forces his eyes open to watch you.

“Please, y/n,” he whines and you sink your head down before coming up again. You repeat the movements, closing your eyes to focus on the rhythm. Jiyong feels a mix of pleasure and guilt. He knows its wrong, but truth be told, Seunghyun shouldn’t have left you here either, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself. He watches your head bob up and down, his cock twitching in your mouth as you pick up the pace. You take your mouth off, pumping him with your hand.

“ah, fuck,” he moans as his hips jerk into your hand.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says as he feels the familiar euphoria approaching.

“Fuck, please use your mouth, I wanna cum down that pretty little throat,” he gasps as your mouth reattaches to him in an instant, cheeks hollowed out, tongue swirling around him.

“Fuck, y/n,” his eyes screw shut, hips sputtering as hot liquid bursts into your mouth, shooting down your throat. Your head continues to bob, only slower, as he comes down from his high.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out as he tries to catch his breath. You let go of him with a little pop.

You kiss his pelvic bone again, teasing him.

“That was amazing,” he breathes out and you smile, proud of yourself, but you still feel empty.

“Come here,” he beckons you forward and lays you on your back. He hovers over you, kissing your lips passionately and your thighs, again, squeeze together, a small whimper leaving your mouth.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers in your ear before nibbling your lobe. You gasp at the sudden feeling before he kisses just beneath it, taking his time, savoring the feeling of your skin on his lips.

Your hands find his hair, curling into it and Jiyong moans, his teeth sinking into your skin. A small gasp is heard and it makes his hunger worse. He pulls off your top, allowing your chest to sit before him, free and full. He bites his lip as he takes the time to drink in the image before him. For all he knows it’s the only one he’ll ever get.

He notices a blush creep up your neck as your hands go up to try and conceal your self from him. He slowly pulls your hands away before leaning in to kiss your lips again.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers and your blush deepens.

His mouth attaches to your nipple, his wet tongue hardening the bud as the nerve endings send small waves of pleasure to your core. Your legs instinctively spread at the feeling, a small pulse being felt in your center. You squirm underneath him and he takes your nipple between his teeth, ever so slightly applying pressure.

“Ah, Ji,” you hiss.

He rolls the other in between this index finger and thumb, your mouth slightly parting.

“Jiyong,” you whimper out and he can’t control the growl that escapes him.

He kisses down your stomach, teeth grazing you in his wake.

He kisses your thighs, nibbling on the soft flesh, licking over it to soothe the pain.

“Please,” you lift your hips up as your desire grows.

“So needy, huh?” He teases.

“Such a shame he’s never even tasted you,” he mumbles to himself before spreading your folds, his tongue dipping into you, collecting your arousal as you gasp at the sudden, but welcome, intrusion.

“Mmm,” he hums as he furiously begins circling your bud, the sudden contact causing your body to shake. His tongue does figure 8’s as he mercilessly laps at your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp as your back arches off the bed.

“Ah- yes, ah,” your eyes screw shut, the feeling strong as pleasure takes over completely. It’d been so long since another person had you, you almost forgot what it felt like to leave your pleasure in the hands of someone else.

Your hips start to grind on his face, Jiyong pulls away, sticking two fingers to your mouth. You suck on them as if your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he praises as he slips them from your mouth. He kisses your pelvis once more before he inserts his fingers, curling them and watching you closely.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you sigh as you feel his fingers hit that beautiful spot just inside your entrance.

“God, ah go faster, please go faster,” he obliges and his tongue is back on you adding to the buildup of pressure in your stomach. Your hips roll as if they have a mind of their own, your walls clamping down around his fingers, telling him you’re close.

He speeds up, wet sounds filling the room amidst the moans and whimpers falling from your pouty lips.

“Fuck,” you whimper out, barely audible. Your body tenses, a wave of bliss crashing over you as your ride out your high with a loud, pornographic moan.

Jiyong’s finger pump still, helping your ride it out.

“That was incredible,” he says more to himself than you.

“That was,” your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, “intense,” you giggle. He comes up kissing your lips, your arousal still on his tongue.

“Jiyong, please, let me have you,” you ask against his lips. He looks into your needy, lustful eyes.

Fuck it.

He lines himself up at your entrance, looking to you one last time before he continues, and you nod. He slides in slow, the stretch causing you to choke out a gasp.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” His voice is laced with concern.

“N-no, just give me a sec,” you breathe through it, the feeling foreign to you.

“Ok,” you nod after a moment. His hips slowly rock, the feeling fresh, full and down right heaven sent.

“Go faster,” you urge him and that’s all he needs, what was once a slow rock of his hips, careful and calculated, has now become a more forceful, desperate slam of his hips. Your heart begins to thud against your ribs, a blush carefully blooming onto your cheeks as you can feel him hit your sweet spot almost every time.

He kisses your lips once before replacing his lips with his thumb. Your mouth opens instinctually and you begin to suck on it, the pad flat against your tongue. Jiyong’s eyes widen as he feels his cock twitch. Your eyes are wide, blown and fucked out as he slams into you repeatedly, skin slapping skin echoing in the room.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he grunts.

“Me too,” you whimper as you bring him close to you. With your foreheads resting together, Jiyong reaches down between you rubbing your clit.

“Come with me,” he murmurs and your eyes screw shut as the pressure builds.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as your orgasm is at its brink.

Jiyong snaps his hips one last time and that’s all it takes, the two of you are moaning and groaning as the blissful waves of pleasure wash over you.

Jiyong stays still for a moment, bracing himself on one arm as he looks at you, your face dusted pink, body slick with sweat and warm underneath him. Then his eyes grow wide.

“Oh shit,” he almost yells as he flails off you.

“What? What happened?” You quickly scrunch to cover up, as if he hasn’t seen your entire naked body all ready.

“Y/n, we, Seunghyun, he’s,” he stutters as he can’t look at you.

Fuck Seunghyun. It’s time Jiyong knew.

“Jiyong, I need to tell you something.” You take a deep breath as he wills himself to meet your gaze, you slip your clothes back on, half way, and slip under the blankets of the hotel bed.

“Seunghyun and I, it’s not a real marriage.”

Jiyong tilts his head.

“What are you talking about?” You take a deep breath.

“We did legally marry, but we don’t love each other, I’m not even sure we like each other. I don’t know what we are honestly.” You sigh as you pick at the invisible lint on the white sheet on the bed.

“What?”

“You know about the all the shit he went through with his image, how he was constantly in trouble. His label said he needed a girlfriend, then he needed a wife. It was never supposed to get to marriage but he couldn’t keep his ass out of trouble.” You sigh.

“So it’s not real? This whole thing is a smoke screen?” You nod timidly. Jiyong breaks out into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“Holy shit, so that means we didn’t, oh thank God!” he almost laughs as the tension ceases in the room and he leans over, connecting your lips. The kiss is sweet, passionate, and longing. You smile into it.

Jiyong picks up his pants and shirt.

“You wanna go get something to eat?” He asks and that’s when he notices the small frown. The reality of life crashes into him at the sight.

“Oh, baby we can order in, I know tomorrow,” he begins but you nod.

“I’m upset about that yeah, but I have to keep up my contractual obligations. At least until the label can get us divorced. Meaning,” you take a deep breath but Jiyong beats you to the punch.

“We can’t be seen out together,” he nods. You nod to confirm his words.

“Exactly.”

“Wait, so tomorrow, I can’t be there for you?” he asks and his eyes look discontent.

“You can, but we can’t be together,”

“No holding your hand, no kissing your cheek, y/n that’s not fair. If he doesn’t even care,” he huffs knowing it isn’t your fault, but he wants to be there for you. However, you need him.

“Just promise you’ll hold me afterwards,” your voice cracks slightly and looks to see your eyes start to turn glassy.

“Baby, I swear it.” He pulls you to him, kissing the top of your head.

The next morning, you and Jiyong get your wake-up call. You whine into the pillow, Jiyong’s hand coming up to rub small circles into your back.

“I don’t want to do this,” you mumble out as your cheeks is cushioned against the pillow.

“I know,” he offers you a sad smile. Your eyes brim with tears and you blink them back, forcing yourself to get up.

Jiyong gets dressed, leaving before Seunghyun arrives.

“I’ll see right after, ok? I’ll meet you back here and we’ll order in, watch movies, do whatever you want.” He smiles before pressing a deep kiss to your lips.

You hug him tight before he leaves, the scent of his cologne still faintly in the air as he disappears.

You take a deep breath as Seunghyun texts you letting you know he’s outside. You exit the elevator, paparazzi everywhere. Your eyes widen, no one was supposed to know. You see Seunghyun come through the doors, he notices your panicked state.

“I know I’m sorry, I have no idea what happened, I,” he stops in the middle of the apology when notices a bruise on your neck. His face is unreadable, but his eyes flash with a tinge of hurt and disbelief.

“What?” You ask definitely.

“Nothing, let’s just go.” He says through gritted teeth. He takes hold of your hand, the paparazzi swarming you despite the body guards around.

“Y/n why did you stay in a hotel last night? Are you T.O.P having problems?” one reporter tries to put a mic to your face.

“Y/n, we’re sorry to hear about your sister’s death, tell us how will this affect your relationship,” another goes.

The lights are blinding and the sea of people is over whelming. Once you’re safe inside the car, your tears spill over.

“Fucking vultures,” you mumble under your breath. Seunghyun watches you, putting a hand on your thigh.

He puts an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean into him. You do, despite your feelings and frustrations with him. You needed someone today, and it’s not as if Jiyong could do it.

“I told him.”

Seunghyun’s heart drops, he knew you wanted him to know but a small sliver of him hoped fate would keep it from happening, giving you and him a real shot.

“So, what does that mean?” he murmurs.

“It means he knows.” You sniffle, dabbing a tissue under your eye and checking your mascara.

“No, I mean, for us,” his voice is weak, unsure.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I didn’t know where we stood before he got there let alone now,” you look out the window, the air between you feels isolating. Similar to how it was not long ago when you were first married, only this time, it felt as though you were losing something; someone.

“We’ll figure it out,” he tells himself more than you.

“Can we just not do this today?” You ask as nicely as you can.

“I have to bury my sister and I don’t want this drama weighing on me while I do it.” Seunghyun simply nods, the same feeling of isolation encapsulating him.

You get to the funeral home, more cameras and even fans show up wanting pictures and asking questions. You sigh as you give Seunghyun a dirty glare. He throws his hands up in mock defense.

“It wasn’t my idea,” is all he says before the door opens. He takes your hand, weaving you through the crowd to get you inside.

The funeral home is nice, a cold atmosphere, but overall as pleasant as one can be on a day like this. The viewing is small, friends, family. Your mother is beside herself with grief. You try to comfort her as much as you can, but it’s no use.

You spot Jiyong in the mix of people, walking away from her and he comes up to hug you.

“You doing ok?” he whispers in your ear. Seunghyun is watching the two of you like a hawk.

“As good as I can,” you choke out with a tear escaping. He rubs your back, holding you for as long as he can before he has to let go.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he whispers before going to hug his best friend. You say hello to people you recognize from her life, friendly faces who are distraught and offer their sympathies.

The funeral procession ends at the burial sight and just like the hotel and funeral home, there are paparazzi everywhere.

“What the actual fuck is happening?!” You complain as the car comes to a stop. The people swarm the car, camera’s flashing, sympathies and questions being thrown to your and your husband all at once. Every single one is ignored. The tent is set up as people gather in chairs and standing room to be near the man doing the service. Seunghyun sits on your left while Jiyong manages to sit on your right.

“Have you seen my mother?” you whisper to Jiyong as the service gets started. He shakes his head no. He puts his hand on your thigh, sympathetically and the sudden clicking of cameras reminds you where you are and what’s at stake.

“Move your hand,” you whisper and he pulls it away discreetly, folding his hands in his lap. The service continues, words are said, songs are sung and the time comes for the casket to be lowered. At this point tears are flowing down your cheeks. Seunghyun puts his arm around you, holding you close and as much as you appreciate the gesture, Hae’s words still ring in your head.

“I have your sister to thank for dying. She’s giving me my man back.”

You want nothing more than to shove him off and take Jiyong’s hand and just run, but you don’t. You sit through it. You let the camera’s get the pictures and as soon as you can, you leave the scene.

Jiyong watches you walk to the car, powerless to help you right now. But he watches as Seunghyun lets you go, not immediately chasing after you.

“She told me,” he says walking up to him. Seunghyun looks around nervously.

“Then shut the fuck up, dude,” he snaps. Jiyong looks at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“What the hell is your problem. Y/n, I get. She’s under a whole lot of stress, but you?”

“No one else can know. You’re risk enough without everyone else hearing you,” Seunghyun says it, but he doesn’t mean it the way it comes across.

“You’re afraid I’ll fucking tell someone and screw you over?”

Seunghyun rubs his temple.

“Maybe I fucking should if that’s what you think of me. Since you clearly don’t know me better than that by now,” Jiyong grits his teeth, jaw ticking, before he walks away. Seunghyun’s fists ball at his sides as he watches Jiyong leave in the other direction. He walks back to the car; you’re inside staring out the window.

He gets in, the car silent as it pulls onto the highway.

“I’ll call your company tomorrow, let them know they should have everything they need and we can get divorced.” Your voice is flat, Seunghyun looks up at you like he’s broken.

“What the hell happened to working on it? I know you wanted to give Jiyong a chance but you promised to give us one too.” You hear the confusion and brokenness in his voice and you peer over at him.

“Is that really what you wanted? Or was that just some stupid shit you said because you didn’t have your little girlfriend? Well, now you’ve got an out to be with her, so go fucking do it. You never gave a damn about me, ever. I was just annoying, a pain in your ass, a girl who wanted you for your fucking money.” You spat; voice laced with venom.

“Y/n,” he breathes.

“Yes I said those things, but that was before-,”

“Before what, exactly? You know you literally went down to a bar and had a drink before you came up that hotel room that night wanting to suddenly work on things. You never explained anything further to me.” The car pulls up to the back of the hotel.

“And quite frankly, I’m not sure it matters at this point. Go home to Hae, who’s fucking name is on the deed to what was supposed to be our damn house.” The look on your face causes Seunghyun to go pale. He’d never seen you so angry.

You exit the car, running up to your room, despair and anger bubbling all at once.

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