#kwon jiyong scenario

[ikwon1c]

Dye Me Down

characters: kwon jiyong x y/n

a bit mid but i miss joker ji so bad

summary: what starts as a playful idea to bring back jiyong’s iconic 2016 green hair quickly turns into a chaotic, steamy mess on the bathroom counter.

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, humor, sensual chaos, established relationship, playful/domestic kink, dirty talk, emotional intimacy

2012-2016 jiyong could ruin my life and I���d still thank him 😣

—

The afternoon was slow and sweet, like thick honey poured over warm skin. Jiyong and I were splayed across the bed, wrapped up in the kind of silence that only came with real comfort. No music, no distractions, just the lazy warmth of a Sunday sun and our bare legs tangled together.

His hand rested lightly on my thigh, fingers moving in soft patterns while his phone hovered inches above his face. Every so often, he’d show me something — a meme, a fan edit, a flashback clip from one of his old concerts.

I rolled closer, propping myself on my elbow. My eyes lingered on his bare face, his slightly grown-out black hair, soft and unruly from our nap.

Why do I feel like you’re plotting something?” he asked lazily, eyes not leaving the screen.

I grinned, propping my chin on his shoulder. “Because I am.”

“Mmm.” He didn’t sound surprised. “Do I need to run?”

“No,” I said sweetly. “But you might need a towel.”

That got his attention. He turned his head to look at me with one perfectly sculpted brow arched. “Y/N.”

“Ji.”

“What are you planning?”

“I want to dye your hair.”

“You know what I miss?” I said, tracing my nail down his chest.

“Hm?”

“2016 Ji.”

He side-eyed me. “Babe.”

I grinned. “The green hair. The wild stage fits. The look in your eyes like you were about to seduce the entire stadium just by standing still.”

“I did seduce them,” he said flatly, but his mouth twitched into a smirk.

I dragged my hand up into his hair, combing through the black strands. “But this… this version of you? Needs a refresh.”

“Oh?” He arched a brow. “Are you saying I’m washed?”

“Never. I’m saying I wanna dye your hair green again.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“Obviously.” I straddled his waist and kissed the tip of his nose. “But you love it.”

He groaned as my weight settled on him. “Why do I feel like you’ve planned this?”

“Because I have,” I said sweetly. “I bought the dye last week. It’s in the bathroom cabinet. Right next to your favorite cologne, which I may or may not have sprayed on my pillow.”

He blinked. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’m inspired.”

A beat passed.

He cupped the back of my neck, eyes fixed on mine. “You really want Joker Ji back?”

“Desperately.”

“Right now?”

I leaned down, lips brushing his jaw. “Unless you’re scared.”

He smirked, hands finding their way to my thighs. “You know I’m not. But this better end with you naked.”

“Oh, it will,” I purred. “Eventually.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was perched on the bathroom countertop wearing only his oversized t-shirt, and he sat between my thighs on the closed toilet lid, towel wrapped around his shoulders, smirking like he was two seconds from corrupting me completely.

I dipped the brush into the dye and stroked it onto the first section. The bright green started soaking into his dark hair, and I couldn’t stop giggling.

“Babe…”

“Hmm?”

“This might stain your scalp.”

“Then I’ll just tell everyone my girlfriend did it while she was straddling me in the bathroom,” he said, resting his hands on my hips.

“You’re not wrong.”

I kept working through the sections, methodical and careful—but Jiyong was anything but patient. His fingers kept wandering. First, just resting on my hips. Then brushing beneath the hem of the shirt. Then gliding higher.

“Ji,” I warned, trying not to laugh. “I swear to God if you make me mess this up—”

“Come on, Aein,” he said lowly. “You’re between my legs, hovering above me, biting your lip, looking like a damn fantasy while smearing neon green into my hair.”

I paused, my thighs tightening around him involuntarily.

He grinned. “Tell me you’re not turned on right now.”

“Okay,” I said breathlessly. “I won’t tell you.”

He chuckled, and I felt his hands curl around my thighs, pulling me closer. I squeaked as I landed fully on his lap, the brush still in my hand.

“Ji, I still have half your head to go—”

“Finish it,” he said, voice husky. “Then I’ll ruin you.”

My stomach flipped. My whole body buzzed. God, this man.

Somehow, I made it through the rest of the application, hands shaking slightly, heart pounding. When I was done, I set the brush down and peeled off the gloves with a snap.

“There,” I said. “Processing time is twenty minutes.”

“Perfect.”

I didn’t even have time to blink before he surged up, gripping my ass and lifting me onto the countertop with a thud. The edge of the cold marble hit the backs of my thighs, and I gasped.

“Ji—”

His mouth was on mine before I could finish.

The kiss was messy, urgent, tasting like toothpaste and mischief. His hands slid under the shirt, fingers splaying over my bare skin. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath—thank God.

“You planned this,” he groaned against my neck, nipping at the skin.

“Maybe,” I whispered, tilting my head to give him more access.

“You little devil.”

I laughed, breath hitching as his tongue traced along my collarbone. “You’re the one with green hair and a hard-on.”

“I’m hard because of you, not the hair dye,” he growled, yanking the shirt over my head in one swift move.

I was completely bare now, legs spread on the countertop, his head between my thighs, hair freshly dyed and wild.

He looked up at me with that glint in his eyes—the one that made my whole body ache. “Look at you, Aein. Already wet.”

“Shut up and do something about it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His mouth was on me in seconds, tongue dragging slow, devastating strokes that made me moan and clutch his hair—green dye be damned.

“Fuck, Ji—“

He groaned into me, the vibration making my back arch. “Say my name again.”

“Jiyong…”

His grip on my thighs tightened. He devoured me like he hadn’t eaten in days, pulling wave after wave of pleasure from my body until I was shaking, thighs clenching around his head, nails digging into his scalp.

When he finally stood up, his lips were slick, chin glistening, and his eyes were dark with heat.

“You look like you’re cosplaying Shrek,” I giggled, brushing the green dye through his roots.

“And you look like a naked housewife with a fetish,” he fired back.

“Housewife?” I snorted. “I’d be the most unqualified—”

“You’d be perfect,” he cut in, more serious than I expected. “If I met you earlier, like during that era… I probably would’ve married you already. Had kids by now.”

I froze.

He looked up, soft and sincere. “Swear to God, Aein. I would’ve changed everything if I knew you then.”

“Ji…” My heart fluttered in a million different ways. “You can’t just say things like that while I’m holding toxic chemicals over your head.”

He laughed, tilting his head back. “You’d be such a good mom. You’re already good at babying me.”

I started laughing, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable—”

Then, just as I exhaled mid-giggle, he surged upward and thrust his hips against the counter, bumping me in exactly the right spot.

I choked.

“Ji!” I gasped, nearly flinging the dye bowl across the sink.

He grinned, completely unapologetic. “Sorry. Did I interrupt your laugh?”

“You timed that on purpose.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.”

My thighs clenched. “You menace.”

“I’m your menace.” He grinned at me, his fingers creeping up the bare skin of my thighs.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I murmured.

He cocked an eyebrow up, with mischief on his eyes. “Still not done with you yet.” His kiss was greedy — open-mouthed and wet, his tongue sliding against mine like he wanted to crawl inside me. He grabbed the back of my neck, deepening it, devouring me.

I gasped against his mouth as his hands slid under my shirt, palming my breasts with a hunger that sent my pulse skyrocketing.

“God, you’re perfect.”

I tugged at the towel around his shoulders and tossed it to the floor. He yanked the shirt over my head and tossed that too and now I was bare, legs spread on the cold marble, and he was standing between them with dye in his hair and sin in his eyes.

“Still so wet,” he said, dragging a finger between my folds. “You like making me look crazy, huh?”

I let out a shaky breath. “You look hot. You’ve always looked hot.”

He dipped his finger inside me and pulled it out slow. “Then say it.”

“You’re so fucking hot, Ji,” I moaned. “Especially when you’re rough.”

His pupils dilated. “Say my name again.”

“Ji…” I whispered, clinging to him.

He leaned forward, mouth at my ear. “Aein, if you keep saying my name like that, I’m not going to last.”

“Then ruin me now and be gentle later,” I said, pulling his waistband down.

He was already hard, thick and flushed, heavy in my hand. I stroked him once, and he hissed, head dropping to my shoulder.

Without another word, he lined himself up and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until I was stretched wide and gasping, already dizzy from the feeling of being filled so completely.

He held still for a moment, forehead resting against mine.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You always take me so well.”

“Move,” I whispered, nails digging into his arms.

The first thrust knocked the air out of my lungs. He was deep, hot, pulsing, and I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

The countertop rocked slightly with each movement, and the mirror behind us fogged with heat. He set a relentless pace, each thrust deeper than the last, hitting every spot just right.

“God, Aein, you feel so fucking good—”

I moaned loudly, hands clutching his shoulders, nails scraping his skin. “Ji… faster, please—”

He growled low in his throat, driving into me harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the bathroom.

The rhythm started slow — long, deep strokes that had me seeing stars. Every thrust sent shockwaves through me, making the mirror behind fog up with our heat.

My fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tightly. “The green looks so good on you,” I moaned.

He smirked mid-thrust. He slammed into me hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

“I’d have two kids with you by now if I met you in 2016,” he growled, voice ragged.

“You’re insane—oh fuck—Ji, don’t stop—”

“You’d be glowing, barefoot, cooking rice in my shirt while pregnant with our second.”

I was laughing again, breathless and wild, when he gave a particularly brutal thrust that knocked the sound straight out of me.

“Still think I’m kidding?”

“Ji, holy fuck—”

My back arched, heels digging into his lower back. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me slightly, changing the angle. The new position made me scream.

“Come for me, Aein,” he whispered against my neck. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

“Ji—I’m—”

My body clenched around him in waves, my vision going white, my hands clawing at his shoulders. He cursed in Korean, hips stuttering, and then he was coming too, deep inside me, hot and thick and shaking with it.

We stayed like that — tangled, panting, trembling. His face buried in my neck. My legs still locked around him.

Eventually, he kissed my shoulder, then my jaw, then my lips.

“That was the hottest dye job of my life,” he murmured.

I giggled weakly. “You’re never going to a salon again.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me and burst out laughing.

I blinked. “What?”

“You got dye on your nose.”

I gasped. “You got dye on my everything!”

We both laughed, dizzy and high on each other, the air still thick with steam and sex.

He kissed my cheek, then my lips, then my nose—dye stain and all.

“Guess I’m your canvas now,” he murmured.

I grinned, breathless and blissed out. “You’re the hottest art project I’ve ever touched.”

—

Thirty minutes later, with green dye rinsed and his hair dripping wet, he came out of the bathroom shirtless in a towel, water still clinging to his collarbones.

I was curled up in bed, utterly ruined.

He crawled in beside me, propping himself on his elbow.

“Still thinking about 2016?” he asked, brushing hair from my face.

I smiled, eyes heavy. “I think I like 2025 better.”

He leaned in and kissed my nose. “You sure?”

“You’re green, naked, and just made me scream loud enough to alert the neighbors.”

“So… that’s a yes.”

“It’s a hell yes.”

He smiled against my skin.

“Okay, maybe next time—purple.”

mom, i love him so much 💔

[bettelaboure]

bf jiyong x reader where its the morning after doing ykw 🌚

⊹Morning, Jagi⊹ | Kwon Ji-yong

⊹⊹⊹⊹⊹

⊹Pairing: Kwon Ji-Yong x reader

⊹Summary: The morning after their first night together, you and Jiyong share tender moments, teasing banter, and quiet intimacy—with sore bodies, soft kisses, and the company of his two cats, Lye and Zoa—as you navigate the gentle, love-drenched aftermath of something real.

⊹Warnings: brief nudity, soft aftermath, teasing

���⊹⊹⊹⊹

It’s the kind of morning that feels suspended in time—like the universe has pressed pause just for you.

The air is still, golden with sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, and wrapped in the kind of hush that only exists between two people who’ve just crossed the most delicate threshold together. Your body is draped in a tangle of sheets and skin, still echoing with the aftershocks of the night before, but it’s not lust that lingers now. It’s something quieter. Thicker. More dangerous.

“I’m your menace,” he whispers again against your shoulder, and this time you don’t argue. "Morning, Jagi."

Because it’s true.

You feel it in every inch of your body—the ache in your muscles, the sore tug between your thighs, the gentle soreness of your lips from where he kissed you too many times to count. Your skin still hums with the memory of his mouth, the way he murmured your name like a promise, like a prayer, like a secret he’d waited his whole life to say out loud.

He’d ruined you.

Not just your body—though yes, thoroughly—but your standards. Because how could you go back to anything less after last night? How could you kiss anyone else, when no kiss would ever feel like that again?

He shifts behind you, the smooth press of his chest against your back, a hand running down your side with the kind of gentleness that belies how rough he had you hours ago. “You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs again, and it’s that question—the quiet sincerity of it—that really undoes you.

“I’m better than okay,” you whisper, nudging your nose against his jaw.

“I’m a little concerned I’ve turned you into a puddle,” he murmurs. “You haven’t moved in twenty minutes.”

“I can’t move,” you say with mock accusation. “You broke me.”

“You loved it,” he says smugly.

“You made me say your name like—ten times.”

“Twelve,” he corrects with a sly grin. “I counted. Every time you said it, I got harder. I thought I was going to combust when you moaned it that last time.”

You swat at his arm, embarrassed, but he catches your wrist and kisses the inside of it, soft as silk. “Don't be shy now,” he whispers. “You were so confident last night. You told me exactly what you wanted.”

Your cheeks burn at the memory of it—how you’d pulled him close by his shirt, whispering in his ear with a voice you barely recognized as your own. He liked when you took control. He loved it when you gasped into his mouth and begged him to let go.

And he did.

Completely. Messily. Beautifully.

Now, in the golden hush of morning, he’s a different kind of creature—softer, gentler, eyes half-lidded and sleepy, but still teasing, still dangerous in that way only Jiyong can be.

“Come on,” he says after a beat, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Bath time. You’re too sore to walk straight, and I don’t want your memory of me to include falling down the stairs.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

He’s already climbing out of bed, naked and unapologetic. “I have you in my bed. I think I’ve earned it.”

You watch him stretch, lean and gorgeous and completely at ease in his skin. He disappears into the bathroom and a second later, you hear water rushing, the hum of something dropped into the tub—probably one of those expensive bath salts he pretends not to use.

Zoa follows him with an offended chirp, like she’s had enough of this romance and wants breakfast. Lye stays with you, curled into the blanket, still purring like a small engine.

You finally sit up, wincing slightly, and laugh at yourself. “He really did break me.”

From the bathroom, you hear: “I can still hear you.”

You roll your eyes and shuffle toward the doorway, Jiyong’s oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. The scent of eucalyptus and jasmine is already filling the air, steam curling through the room as the tub fills.

Jiyong’s kneeling beside it, testing the temperature like he’s preparing something sacred.

“You treat baths like rituals,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe.

He glances back, then stops altogether—eyes tracing you slowly, like he’s seeing you all over again.

“You look ridiculous,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Ridiculously good,” he clarifies. “Like...you should be in a painting. In a museum. Guarded. Or stolen.”

You shake your head, but your smile betrays you.

He stands, reaching for you. “Come on. I made it perfect.”

You let him undress you, slowly, reverently—like last night all over again, but quieter now, gentler. He helps you into the water first, then slips in behind you, pulling your back to his chest as the warmth envelops you both.

His legs slide around yours. His arms find your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder.

And you sit there like that—two bodies suspended in a world made of steam and skin and the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of breath.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur.

“Anything.”

“When did you start liking me?”

He’s quiet for a second. You almost regret asking, but then he answers, voice low and honest:

“The first time you called me out.”

You turn your head. “Seriously?”

He grins. “Yeah. Everyone around me nods too much. But you? You looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘That’s a terrible idea, Kwon.’ I think I fell in love right then.”

Your heart thumps. “I remember that day.”

“You had no idea who I was,” he says, kissing your temple. “It was so hot.”

You both laugh, and he holds you tighter.

Silence falls again, but it’s the best kind. Not awkward. Not empty. Just comfortable. Like two people who no longer need to fill the space between them with words.

Eventually, you feel your eyes start to close.

Jiyong kisses your wet shoulder and murmurs, “Nap here. I’ll carry you back to bed after.”

You smile. “You’re not strong enough for that.”

“Woman, I lifted you last night while you were wrapped around me. Do not question my power.”

You laugh into his neck. “Okay, okay.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll prove it again tonight.”

You don’t reply.

But your hand finds his beneath the water. Fingers tangled.

Heart full.

And for the first time in a long time, you think you finally understand what home feels like.

Taglist: @petersasteria @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

[kwomikailea]

help

Guys help me😭 I've trying to find a specific one shot of gd, where he and bigbang are like performing and its the reader's birthday or sum, and gd was singing R.O.D(requested by taeyang after mentioning it was the reader's fav song) as a final song of sorts, and he and the reader had a duet, i can't remember the title and i don't know if its on here or on another website😭😭 im legit losing my mind😔😔😭😭😭

[saidrabbles]

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.

[peachesclose]

Us ◎ Kwon Ji-yong

◎ Summary: A whirlwind year of secret mornings, stolen kisses, and shared dreams with Ji-yong turns into a quiet rebellion against time—where love dares to skip the middle and rush headfirst into forever.

◎ Warnings: only cuteness

◎ ◎ ◎ ◎ ◎ ◎

You never expected to fall in love with a man who lives between time zones and headlines.

But here you are, heart racing, knees curled beneath you on a velvet hotel couch in Paris, watching Ji-yong pace the length of the suite like he’s about to walk on stage. Not for a show. For you.

Your phone buzzes, forgotten on the table next to a room service tray and two half-drunk glasses of expensive red. Ji-yong doesn’t notice it. His eyes are pinned to you like you’re gravity.

“We’ve only been doing this for a year,” he says suddenly, almost to himself. “One year.”

You nod slowly. “I’m aware.”

“But I’m starting to…” He hesitates—Ji-yong doesn’t do that often. Onstage, he’s swagger and smoke. Offstage, with you, he’s peeling back layers like a dare. “I want stupid things.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like?”

“Like a house with a white fence I’ll probably hate. Like... two IKEA beds we shove together because we’re too tired to care. Like walking into a room and knowing you’ll be there.”

You don’t laugh, even though part of you wants to. Because it’s so unhim. Or maybe it’s the truest version of him. The version the world doesn’t get to see—the one who wears oversized hoodies and reads books he never finishes, who kisses you like he’s starving and whispers “Stay” like it’s sacred.

He exhales, rubbing his hands over his face. “God, this sounds lame.”

“Yeah,” you say. “But it’s the best kind of lame.”

Ji-yong walks over, drops to the floor in front of you, kneels between your knees like he's about to propose, even though you both know this isn’t that moment. Not yet.

His hands wrap around yours. “What if we skipped all the in-between shit?” he says, eyes burning into yours. “The waiting. The career timing. The everyone-says-we-shouldn’t.”

You blink. “You want to fast-forward?”

“No.” His grip tightens, voice low. “I want us to write the rest. I want to kiss you in front of your friends. I want to ignore the headlines. I want to wear a ring that doesn’t match my outfit. I want to build something real before we’re ready. I want the scary parts. All of it. Now.”

You don’t speak for a second. The air between you vibrates with unsaid things. Like how you’ve already imagined your names next to each other on mail. How you secretly look for him in dreams. How you caught yourself wishing on 11:11s again, like a child.

You lean forward, forehead pressed to his, and whisper, “Dare.”

He laughs softly. “That’s not how this works.”

“Then make it work. Dare me.”

He tilts his head, grin fading. “I dare you to tell me you’ll be there at the end.”

You close the space between you. “Only if you promise to go second.”

He kisses you then—hungry, reckless, like the start of a war and the end of one. And somewhere in the middle of it, you realize: you’re not scared.

You’re ready.

And as your bodies press together in the dim golden light of a city that doesn't care who you are, you know this isn’t skipping ahead.

The next day, you wake up to paws on your chest and a tail flicking your nose.

Zoa—Ji-yong’s oldest cat—is doing her usual morning inspection, tiny face too close to yours, breath smelling faintly of the salmon treats Ji insists on feeding her before bed. Ji-yong is behind you, one arm slung low across your waist, bare chest pressed to your back, the weight of him warm and unshifting in sleep. You’re caught between two worlds—the persistent pawing of a spoiled feline and the slow rhythm of his breathing against your skin.

“Zoa,” you whisper, squinting one eye open. “This is harassment.”

The cat meows, entirely unbothered, and you shift a little, accidentally nudging Ji in the ribs. He grunts in protest and pulls you tighter.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles into your hair.

“It’s not me you need to convince.”

He cracks one eye open. “She likes you more than me now, you know.”

“She’s just obsessed with my warmth.”

He smirks, sleep-drunk and beautiful. “Same.”

Later, in the kitchen, he’s shirtless in gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, hair a wild mess that makes you ache a little. He’s making your coffee exactly how you like it, not because you asked, but because he remembers. He always remembers—how you hate the taste of burnt espresso, how you prefer almond milk even though you claim not to be picky, how you hold your mug with both hands like it’s a sacred ritual.

“You know what I was thinking about last night?” he says suddenly.

You raise an eyebrow as you steal a piece of toast from his plate. “Besides that very creative thing you did with your hands?”

He grins, leaning over to kiss your jaw, quick and mischievous. “Besides that.”

“What then?”

He turns serious for a moment, toast forgotten. “That time we got caught making out in the dressing room at your friend’s wedding.”

Your laugh echoes through the small kitchen. “You mean your friend’s wedding?”

“I didn’t see any friends after I saw you in that dress.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible about you,” he says simply.

Later that morning, you’re both sprawled out on the living room floor, surrounded by laundry neither of you intends to fold. Ji-yong’s laying on his back, shirt half-tugged up, Zoa now using his chest as a throne. You trace your finger down the tattoo behind his ear—the one only people this close to him ever get to see.

“What are we doing?” you ask, almost whispering.

He glances at you. “Right now?”

“No. Us. This.” You sit up slightly, the question catching in your throat. “What if it’s too much? Too fast?”

He props himself up on one elbow, eyes soft but sure. “Then let it be too fast. Let it be too much. I’d rather love you in chaos than wait for permission.”

And just like that, you kiss him—slow at first, just the brush of lips, then deeper, messier, until you’re straddling him, laundry forgotten, cats fleeing the scene. His hands find your waist like they’re meant to live there. Your name leaves his mouth like a secret. He’s looking at you like you’re gravity again—and this time, you let yourself fall.

Later that week, you're at a market together, disguised in masks and oversized hoodies. Ji-yong’s pushing a cart with entirely too much fruit and exactly one box of sugary cereal you said you “weren’t going to buy this time.”

“You’re such a liar,” he teases.

“Excuse me, you bought it.”

“For us.”

“Mmm. Sure.”

He leans down, whispering in your ear, “Don’t make me kiss you in aisle five.”

You smirk under your mask. “You won’t.”

He does.

Quick and hidden, behind a shelf of ramen and instant coffee, and your heart flips like it’s the first time all over again.

That night, you fall asleep tangled in his hoodie, both cats draped over your legs, Ji-yong beside you, hand on your stomach like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Before your eyes close, he whispers, half-asleep, “I know everyone thinks we’re rushing this.”

You hum. “Let them.”

“I don’t care if we’re young or if it’s crazy,” he says. “Let’s skip to the part where forever starts.”

You smile into his chest. “We already did.”

[angel-writes-here]

Covenant

Choi Seunghyun x AFAB! Reader x G-Dragon Synopsis: Things end. Things begin. Sometimes things reconnect. Warnings: SMUT, fingering, unprotected p in v (Plz be safe), oral (both receiving) angst, fluff A/N: Part 8 has arrived! Please comment if you'd like to be added to my taglist! Thank you for your patience. Shout out to my girl @breakmeoff for your help and inspiration on my writing. I def couldn't have done it without you and I genuinely am so proud of you, boo. Can't wait for part 4 of your Chan fic! 😘 Part 7 🎞Please silence your phones, grab some popcorn🍿 and your favorite blanket, get comfy, and do thoroughly enjoy the chapter! 💜💜

Seunghyun watches you disappear inside, but the frustration in him bubbles to a point of action. He exits the car, following in behind you.

“Y/n!” He raises his voice. You stop dead in your tracks, not daring to turn around to face him.

“We aren’t done talking about this,” he says as he catches up to you.

“Yeah, we really fucking are. Go. Home.” Your eyes cut at him; his adrenaline is pumping.

“Y/n,” he tries to pull you close, but you yank yourself away from him. You turn on your heels to walk to the elevator. He follows after you. You push the close door button on the elevator, you know the one that never seems to work, and just as you think you’re home free, Seunghyun slips into the elevator.

“I want to be with you.”

You scoff at his words with a sarcastic smile and roll of your eyes.

“Why is that funny?” The elevator opens to an elderly couple. The poor woman is slow, using a walker to help her into the small space. You notice, what you assume to be, her husband and how he looks at her. It’s similar to how you’ve caught Jiyong looking at you. The care and patience he has for his lady as she makes her way in stirs your heart and your already heightened emotions.

The sight warms your heart. It’s what you had hoped for. What you had wanted when you were little. Patience, kindness, understanding and love.

Love.

You watch as the elderly gentleman places a sweet kiss onto the woman’s temple, the sight daring tears to come up. You peer over at Seunghyun who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You turn away and only then does he see what you seen. The kindness, gentleness and patience he displays with his lady.

The elevator dings and you walk out quickly fishing out your hotel key card.

“Go home,” you demand of Seunghyun.

“Not until we actually talk.” He says simply. The door unlocks and you both walk in to see Jiyong sitting on the bed.

“Hey-oh,” he says surprised to see his best friend. Seunghyun huffs.

“Ji, can we have a minute?” Jiyong looks to you.

“We don’t need a minute because you are leaving.”

“What the hell, y/n, you promised!” He raises his voice in frustration.

“Yeah, so did you. For better or worse. Sickness and in health.” You mock rolling your eyes. You fling yourself into Jiyong who holds onto you, looking up at his best friend.

“I’m not going to stop fighting for you, y/n,” he says. You cling to Jiyong even tighter after the words leave his mouth.

You hear the door shut behind him and once it does, your cries intensify.

“Maybe you should talk to him, jagi.” He whispers. You peer at him, your eyes obviously angry.

“I have nothing to say to him.”

-

Seunghyun walks into the house, Hae readily greeting him with a glass of wine.

“Baby, how was the funeral? Is the bitch in the ground now?”

“Watch your fucking mouth, that was my sister in law!” he snaps. Hae looks taken aback.

“You do remember it’s me you love, right?”

“When have I ever said I loved you?” Seunghyun asks as he takes a sip of wine. She scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

“You’ve had a long day so I’ll let that one slide.” She sets down her glass.

“Come on, let’s get in the shower, wash the stress of the day off.” She smirks.

Seunghyun allows her to pull him with her to the bathroom. She strips turning on the shower, Seunghyun begins to feel numb. He begins to feel like he’s missing something.

“Ok, I guess I’ll help,” she says breaking him from his thoughts.

“No, don’t touch me, I’ve got it,” he says stepping away from her.

“Ok,” she backs off and slips into the shower under the warm water. Seunghyun steps in behind her, the steam from the room overwhelming.

“I missed you today,” she says as she runs her hands along his chest, his muscles taut under her touch. He’s looking off to the side, distracted.

“Seunghyun,” she moves his face to look at her, the water cascading down her body. She runs her hands down it, trying to capture his attention, but quickly realizes she’s getting no reaction.

“Nothing? Are you serious?” She asks as she looks down at his flaccid member.

“Hmm?” He looks to her, visibly confused as to what is happening.

“Oh my god, you’re thinking about her?” she gasps.

“Hae,” he sighs scrubbing a hand down his face, as a slight shiver runs down his spine. He politely pushes his way to the water.

“I can’t believe you,” she complains.

“You’re actually thinking about some other woman.” She scoffs once more.

“What did you actually think was between us, huh? Some kind of actual romance that would lead to marriage and kids? A life where we’re happy together? Growing fat and old together?” His tone is sharp, cutting,

“Psh, kids? Ruining this body? I don’t think so.” He rolls his eyes as he grabs the soap.

“Hae, you’re fun, but nothing serious was ever going to be between us.”

“You don’t mean that,”

“Yeah, I do.” He lets the water run over his body again.

“And why the hell did you tell Y/n your name is on the deed. This is my house and you know it! You don’t have a damn thing to do with it.”

“Seunghyun I swear if you leave me for that bitch I’ll tell everyone the truth.” She tries to bargain.

“Do whatever you want, Hae. She’s done with me anyway.”

“Good, then we can get back to our lives,” she goes to rub his wet strong shoulders but he shrugs her off.

“No, I’m done with you. Thanks for the fun but it’s time to get the fuck out of my house.” Her mouth hangs open.

“You’ll regret doing this to me, Seunghyun. I swear if it’s the last thing I do I’ll fucking ruin you.” She steps out of the shower and dries off. She walks out of the bathroom slamming the door shut behind her. The pressure and stress of the last couple days hangs over Seunghyun like a weight. His eyes fill with tears, tears that he lets flow freely in the comfort of his own shower.

He never thought he’d see the day where you had so much power over him.

He misses you.

-

Back at the hotel you’re cuddled up in bed with Jiyong, a movie playing but you aren’t watching. You’ve been in and out of sleep for the last few minutes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What good would it do? Our next step is obvious, divorce.”

“Is that what he wants?” Jiyong asks slowly.

“It’s what I want, and quite frankly what he wants doesn’t matter to me. He’s got Hae who lives with him and sleeps with him and does whatever else with him. He doesn’t need me. Hell, until last week he didn’t even care about me.” You huff.

“And yet you feel conflicted,” he mumbles and you sit up off him to look at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Y/n, I’m not faulting you for it, but it’s obvious. You say you’re done, but if you were, you wouldn’t get so worked up over it. You’d be indifferent. You wouldn’t care.”

The pang of hurt is in your chest, and you know Jiyong can see it. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have called you out about it.

“It’s only natural that you do,” he assures you.

“No, I don’t,”

“Y/n you’ve spent most of your time with him the last year and a half,” he sympathizes.

“Jiyong, I don’t care anymore. I’m so exhausted.” Your head falls into your soft hands.

“Y/n, baby, I know you’re tired, but don’t shut him out.” He wraps his arms around you.

“Why the hell are you advocating for him? He’s the one who thought you would blab his big secret.”

“I know, but emotions were high.”

“So, he can just insult your character.”

“I didn’t say it was right, but he’s my brother. I’m going to forgive him.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you mumble.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls back and places a delicate kiss on your sweet lips.

-

Seunghyun is lounging in his chair in the living room, his first bottle of wine is done and the second has just been opened. The house is quiet, Hae packed her things and disappeared, at least for now. He look around the home, how still and lifeless it really is. He finds himself missing the comfort of knowing you were sleeping upstairs.

He picks up the phone, no missed calls or texts. His chest stings. You hadn’t thought of him. There’s no way you did. Not after what you knew. Not after what Hae told you.

Still, he tries to call you anyway.

-

You hear your phone buzzing on the table.

“It’s him,” Jiyong says as he hands it to you.

“What do I do?”

“Answer it,” he encourages. You take a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest as your anxiety heightens.

“I’m right here,” Jiyong reaches over and rests a reassuring hand on your leg.

“H-Hello?” your voice is weak as Jiyong takes your hand, placing a delicate kiss on the back of it.

“Y/n, don’t hang up,” he slurs.

“Seung? Are you ok?” your voice turns frantic when you hear his state.

“I’m sorry,” he tries to say but it’s hard to understand him.

“What, Seunghyun where are you?”

“Home,” he giggles as he takes another drink but he tips the glass too far back and spills it on himself.

“Ahh, damn it!” He shouts into the phone causing you to jump. Jiyong looks at you concerned.

“Are you ok?” He doesn’t answer, all you can hear is distant grumbling and something about a “fucking broken glass.”

“I feel like I should check on him.” You chew on your bottom lip and Jiyong gets up, grabbing his car keys.

“Let’s go.”

-

The two of you pull out of the parking lot, a couple people have their phones out and while you know you’ll pay for it later, the only thing that matters right now is checking on Seunghyun. Even if you do still want to divorce him.

You arrive at his house, using your key and walk in to find him passed out on the floor. You look to Jiyong who shuts the door behind him and helps you pick him up.

“Bed?”

“No, the shower, cold water should wake him up.” You two struggle to carry the rather tall man to the bathroom, but with strength and determination, you get it done. You turn the shower on, ice cold water pelting Seunghyun’s skin. He shakes his head before raising up, discombobulated and confused.

“What the, turn that shit off, fuck it’s freezing!” He yells and tries to stand up, Jiyong helping him as you turn the water off.

He gets his senses about him, his eyes widening when he realizes you’re actually there.

He goes silent.

Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Clueless really.

“I’m fine,” he says as he looks down at his now soaked pj’s.

“No, you aren’t, you called me drunk then something broke and I was worried about you, and,” You stop as you realize you let the quiet part leak out.

Jiyong was right, you do care.

“Fuck me,” you scoff at yourself in disbelief. You walk out of the bathroom as the realization hits you. Even after all the bullshit. You still care.

“I’m going to grab you some clothes,” Jiyong pats his friend on the back. Your standing in the kitchen when Jiyong pops his head in.

“You ok?” He asks before seeing your frustrated look.

“Damn it, Ji.” You giggle humorlessly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even be here.” You shake your head.

“Y/n, have you stopped to notice who isn’t?” Jiyong trails off. He reaches out his hand, and you lace your fingers together. He walks you into the only bedroom downstairs to get Seunghyun’s clothes.

You look around and Jiyong motions to the room.

“Really look.” You begin to do so, not sure what it is at first, but it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Hae isn’t here,” you whisper.

“No clothes, no shoes, no perfumes, nothing.” He adds as he picks out a shirt and sweats.

“It’s like she was never here,” he muses.

“And yet she was because I could hear them almost every night I was.” Jiyong purses his lips, knowing you have a point. Seunghyun changes as you and Jiyong wait on the couch. He walks out slowly, still a little buzzed from the wine. He looks down at the two of you before a plastic smile stretches across his face.

“You don’t need to be here, I’m fine,” he says as he walks to the kitchen to get another bottle of wine.

You get up to meet him at the island. You notice he’s sweeping up the broken glass.

“Careful,” he says noting your now bare feet. He gently pushes you back, his hands sending a spark through your body. Your breath hitches at the feeling.

Damn it.

You watch as he finishes up one last sweep.

“You are completely infuriating.” You mumble as you look up at him.

“What?”

“I should fucking hate you, I shouldn’t even care and yet here I am, concerned about you after the day I’ve had. Not to sound selfish, but it should be about me and my feelings. Not you and your fucking problems. Not about us and our shit.” You take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down.

“You’re right, I never should’ve called.” He says.

“I’m sorry.”

“You really shouldn’t of,” you grumble, “But I’m glad you’re ok.” He purses his lips, not meeting your eye contact.

“I’m going to give you guys some time to talk,” Jiyong rubs the back of his neck.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, so you guys can go back to your hotel room. I’m sorry I bothered you.” Seunghyun grabs the bottle off the table and steps off into his room.

“Jiyong,” you say before he presses a sweet, passionate kiss to your lips.

“Go, I’ll pick you up whenever you’re ready.” He smiles.

“How are you ok with this?”

“Now’s not the time. We’ll talk too, ok?” He hugs you tight. Your arms wrap around his neck, not having him with you is like losing a safety blanket. You’re exposed. Vulnerable. Raw.

You say goodbye before going to knock on Seunghyun’s door.

“Can I come in?” you ask through the door.

“Sure,” you hear him say. You slowly creep the door open, he’s laying on the bed, legs sprawled, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and no t shirt. The tv is on and a bed side lamp casts a faint golden glow to the room. While his eyes are on the TV, he’s not really paying attention, he barely hears it over the hammering in his chest.

You slowly pad over to the bed, hesitating to see what he’ll do.

Nothing.

He feels the mattress dip and casts his gaze to you. Neither of you talk at first, silence settling between you; the one thing you know like the back of your hand.

You finally get the courage up to speak.

“Where’s Hae,” You don’t look at each other only at the tv.

“I dunno,” he says before taking a sip of wine.

“You want some?” he offers you the glass and you don’t hesitate.

“Please,” you say as you take it from his hand. The liquid goes down smooth, it’s not too sweet, not too bitter. Just right. You look over noticing the bottle.

T Spot.

“This a new one?” you ask raising the glass a little.

“Yeah, we haven’t put it out yet,” he still won’t meet your gaze. You finish the small amount left in the glass before turning your body to face him.

He mimics your actions. Both of you just take a moment to look at each other.

“How are you?” he asks quietly, voice barely above a whisper. You purse your lips.

“Overwhelmed. Confused. Hurt.” You raise your brows as your eyes flit to the wall behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He wants to move toward you, hold you, but he doesn’t. He stays still.

“I don’t know what to say,” he mumbles. You look at him, studying his nervous demeanor.

“What the hell happened today? The reporters, fans? What was that?”

“I have no idea. Y/n, I swear I didn’t tell anyone but my team and they knew not to call anyone.” He takes your hands in his, his eyes communicating sincerity.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. Regardless of what we were going through I wouldn’t call them and betray you that way.”

“Then how did they know? The only people who knew were you, Ji, Yongbae, Daesung and your team.”

That’s when it hits you.

“I guess I have your sister to thank for dying. She’s giving me my man back.”

You gasp.

“Hae,” you whisper. Seunghyun’s eyes go wide as he remembers telling her everything that first night.

“She even came and rubbed it in my face! Told me that this was your way out, that the company could use this and the two of you would be together, oh my gosh how did I not see this!” You smack your hand to your forehead.

“Wait, she said that to you? Why didn’t you tell me?” You avoid his gaze.

“I thought she was right.”

“When was this?”

“The night before we went to look at caskets.” Seunghyun sighs.

“Y/n you should’ve told me she talked to you. I would’ve at least tried to straighten it out.” His hand tentatively comes up to cup your cheek. You don’t lean into it, but you don’t lean away.

“Did you ever feel anything for her?”

“No, she was fun, a good stress reliver, but nothing more than that. I swear.” His voice is steady, but pleading with you to believe him.

“I swear to you, I don’t want her.”

“What do you want?”

“What I wanted that night I had enough liquid courage to say it.”

You look between his eyes.

“You.” He whispers. He tests you, his hands tugging on your arms to pull you into his lap.

“I won’t let her hurt you ever again. I swear it. Baby if I had known,” he sighs.

“Baby?” you question.

“Is that ok?”

“I don’t know.”

He nods in response and his hands rest on your sides as you look at each other.

“I still want us to have a chance,” he whispers after a beat of silence. You close your eyes, resting your forehead against his.

“I still care about you,” you admit, brushing your nose against his.

“Those things you said about me,”

“Jagi, I was in a bad place, I didn’t give you a fair shot. You aren’t a pain in my ass, you aren’t annoying, and at the time both of us were in this to use each other.”

“What changed your mind,” your breath hits his lips and he shutters.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t a thing where one moment I hated you and the next I didn’t. It was gradual, but I had a hard time believing it. Because I knew you deserved better than me.” His hands are cupping your face, his thumbs rubbing circles into your cheeks.

“That night I heard you, in the bathroom at the airbnb,” he begins and you blush, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, but I knew you hated me and I wouldn’t force it. I was cold because you deserved better. So, when the time came and I had to let you go, you could move on and I could let you go as easily as possible.” He takes a breath; your eyes are closed as you listen to him.

“But then you kept trying.” He laughs to himself with a soft smile.

“That jacket, the letter from a fan,” he smiles nostalgically, “You didn’t have to do that. And I realized that no matter how cold I was, you were willing to try. And I knew you were good for me, not just my image, but me as a person. Y/n I’m better with you in so many ways. I perform better when I know you’re watching me, I think better when you’re around. I’m a better person. Because you make me want to be one. Somone you can be proud of. Someone you can be happy, elated, to be seen with in public. I know it’s not been easy but I swear to you I’m trying.” He exhales shakily as the words settle between you.

“Hae is gone? She isn’t coming back?” Your voice cracks slightly.

“Hae who?” he asks playfully, trying to lighten the mood. Before any other thought can enter your head, your lips crash to his, deep and slow at first, testing the waters. Seunghyun’s fingers contract against your plush hips. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as your mouth opens, allowing his tongue to explore.

Soft moans are swallowed between you; your hands tangle in his dark locks as he pulls your body flush against his.

“I want you,” you breathe against him, heat rushing your body. His hands go to the hem of your shirt as your hips grind down against him. He groans into your mouth and slowly raises it. You break away, taking a moment to catch your breath as he removes your shirt, your breast displayed before him bare.

He kisses your lips again, hands running up and down your sides. He moves his lips to your jaw line, peppering open mouthed kisses to it as he works his way down your neck, nipping and biting. His tongue flicks out, licking a stripe up your neck. A soft whimper spills out from your throat. His hands are slightly rough against your skin as they explore every inch of your nude top half. His thumbs brush over your hard buds, a small gasp leaves your lips as he brushes them.

“Feel good?” His voice is low, slightly teasing.

“Mhm,” is all you can say as he does it again, your head sloping back. His mouth connects with your left bud, swirling his tongue around it. Another moan escapes your lips as you force your head back up to look down at him. His eyes are closed, not a single thought in his head except for one.

To please you.

Your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

“Mmf, so good,” you pant as your hips grind down onto his already hard cock. You blush slightly.

“Getting me off making you hard, baby?” You whisper to him and he groans against you. His mouth releases you before giving the same treatment to the other side.

“Fuck you’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you moan. His hips buck upwards causing you to smile.

“Someone’s eager,” you tease before he’s pushing you backwards, your head close to the end of his bed. He kisses down your sternum, tongue coming out to lick as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin. You watch as he descends lower to your sleep pants. He peppers kisses like he’s worshipping your body just above your waist band.

His eyes flit to yours, silently asking permission and you nod, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. He slips them off easily as you lift your hips up. He kisses up your leg, taking his time, savoring the moment as you watch.

He settles between your legs, thighs being praised by his lips and tongue, low moans falling from his lips. You can feel the pulse in your core, wet, warm and needy. You can feel it pulsate at the anticipation.

He spreads your folds with his index and middle finger, tongue lightly lapping up some of your arousal. Your eyes flutter closed before you feel him hook his arms around your thighs, bending them back just enough to open your core up to him.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” he groans before his tongue licks a stripe up your dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. His tongue dances around your clit, like a man who knows exactly how to get you off; as if he’s known your body his whole life. His tongue swirls, licks, and flicks over your bundle of nerves causing your hips to buck against his face.

“Oh, shit,” you breathe out. Your heart starts to beat faster, heat flashing to your body.

Seunghyun’s hips rut into the bed, the friction causing him to growl, sending little vibrations into your core. Whimpers fall from your lips left and right as his tongue continues to circle your bud.

“Fuck, I need you,” you moan out. Seunghyun’s too far gone to give you just one release. He tests your tight hole with one finger, quickly adding a second, curling them up to hit that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and body go rigid with pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp out as your hips start to roll with his thrusts and Seunghyun takes that as a challenge to finger you faster.

You’re a writhing mess beneath him and he loves every single bit of it. He watches your body as it arches off the bed, the sight alone should be photographed and hung in his bedroom. He feels your gummy walls clamp around his fingers more and more.

“I’m close,” you groan as he hits it harder, with only a few more pumps your walls clench his fingers and your muscles go stiff, back arching once more as he pumps his fingers slowly, helping you ride out the release he’s been dreaming of giving you.

He watches as your body lowers itself back onto the mattress, your chest heaving up and down.

“Fuck that was amazing,” you breathe out, the ceiling being your only focal point. Seunghyun drags his fingers out of you slowly, his lips kiss your clit softly, causing your legs to slightly shake.

He kisses your pelvis and your stomach, kissing his way up to your lips. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste what he did and you moan.

“Lay back,” you mumble against his lips. He climbs off you, resting his back against the pillows lining the headboard.

You straddle his waist, kissing his lips first, moving down to his jaw, grazing your teeth against it, causing him to chuckle at your teasing.

Your lips move to leave an open-mouthed kiss just blow his ear, a low moan leaving his throat. He can feel you smirk against his skin.

You continue your assault on his body, kissing down his chest, tongue brushing over each nipple as he hisses at the pleasure. You kiss down his navel, his happy trail meeting your lips as your fingers hook into his sweat pants and boxer. He lifts his hips up, allowing you to pull them down. You watch as he springs free, hard and leaking.

You lick your lip subconsciously.

“Come on, baby, it doesn’t bite.”

“But I do,” you tease as you wrap your fingers around the warm flesh. You teasingly place a kiss to the head. Your run your lips down the side, looking up at Seunghyun who gulps when your eyes meet. His mouth falls open slightly at the feeling of your wide, wet tongue ghosting over the underside of it.

“Fuck,” he breathes. You smirk to yourself, licking a fat wet stripe up him before smiling innocently, slowly pumping your hand on his cock.

“You fucking tease,” he hisses as his head hits the headboard of the bed.

“You want me to stop?” You ask innocently as your hang unwraps itself from around him.

His eyes fly open and he shoots you an apologetic look.

“Or maybe, maybe I should edge you. Make you work for it,” you smirk just before wrapping your lips around his head, tongue swirling causing him to grab the sheets beneath him.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps as your head lowers. Its deep, from the back of his throat. Your head bobs up and down, slowly but surely making sure to take all of him in, your nose hitting his pelvic bone, a slight choke can be heard as you force yourself down.

Seunghyun feels his own heart rate increase, flashes of heat spring to his body. His hips lift off the bed, a bit of a surprise before you force them down with your hands.

“Fuck, y/n,” the way he says your name has a pulse returning to your core, causing you to rub your thighs together. But it’s not enough, as you pick up the pace with your you mouth, hallowing out your cheeks, you reach down and touch yourself, causing a moan to erupt, thus pulling Seunghyun’s hips up once again from the bed.

He opens his eyes to see yours closed and an arm visibly molded down the center of your body.

“Fuck,” he whimpers out at the sight. You’re too lost in your own pleasure to care or look up.

“Come here,” he pants and you open your eyes. He pulls you to him, kissing your lips rough, teeth, tongue and lips all at once, it’s a wonder no one lost the tip of their tongue.

“Fuck yourself on my cock,” he pants and you position your hips. He helps you sink down, your mouth falling open as you gasp at the full feeling, the stretch hurting in such a good way. Your head falls to his shoulder for a moment while you adjust to his size. He strokes your hair lovingly before he feels your hips begin to rock and he smiles kissing the side of your head.

Small whimpers are poured into the crook of his neck as your body responds quickly, walls beginning to clench around him. You pepper kisses to the base of his neck, sweat lacing his skin.

“Fuck,” you let out a broken whimper as your hips begin to move faster.

“Let me help you,” he whispers before holding your hips up, his feet splaying out in front of him and his hips thrusting upwards.

Your mouth hangs open even further as your brows knit together.

“Fuck,” you drag out as your voice bounces from the velocity of his thrusts. Seunghyun grunts as both of you feel the coil in your stomach beginning to heat up.

“Oh god,” you rest your forehead against his as your breathing turns into panting, both of you feeling the euphoria on its brink.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as your eyes shut.

“Hold it, just another second,” he grunts again as his hips move incredibly faster, skin slapping skin as he hits your sweet spot as hard as he can every time, causing pleasure to override your senses, the only thing you can feel is the white-hot intensity of your orgasm building. Seunghyun can feel it in the way you clamp down on him.

“Fuck, cum for me,” he moans out, and with another thrust your orgasm bursts. Your body shakes, your toes curl and your eyes are screwed so tight they hurt. Your mouth hangs open as the over whelming pleasure rides in, forcing you to go rigid at how powerful it is. Within seconds Seunghyun’s own orgasm is following, filling you up with his own seed. His body goes still, holding you up as you take every last drop of it.

Both of you pant, foreheads resting together as your body are held together as one. Covered in sweat, raw emotion visible.

“I love you,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, both of you finally admitting it to yourselves.

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

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Love notes, comments and requests are truly appreciated!

[xxtoptaexx]

IT WAS A SCHOOL TRIP - p2

Summary: Mina and seunghyun meet unexpectedly during a school trip and form a special connection that changes everything.

pairing: choi seunghyun x reader 

genre: romance - 2000s

warnings: fluff! (this is my first time writing for him, English isn’t my native language T - T)

note: [please if u saw any weird stuff just lmk]

PT2

The sun was beginning to set as Mina and T.O.P stepped out of the supermarket, blending back into the crowd of students making their way to their respective buses. The air smelled of gasoline and fried snacks from a nearby food stall, but Mina’s mind was still stuck on the bizarre yet amusing encounter she had just had with him.  

“See you around, secret agent,” T.O.P had teased before heading to his bus, leaving Mina standing there with a lingering smile.  

As soon as she climbed onto her own bus, her friends bombarded her with questions.  

“Where were you?”  

“Did you get snacks?”  

“Wait… why do you look like you’re blushing?”  

Mina waved them off, trying to focus on her seat by the window. She wasn’t blushing. Not really. Right?  

The journey continued, but an hour into the trip, the teachers made an announcement:  

**“The trip is longer than expected, and to make sure everyone is well-rested, we’ll be stopping at a hotel for the night.”**  

Excited whispers filled the bus. A hotel meant freedom—at least for a few hours.  

By the time they arrived, the sky was painted in hues of deep blue and violet. The hotel wasn’t fancy, but it was decent enough, with a cozy lobby and warm lighting. Mina shared a room with two of her classmates, who were already planning what to do before curfew.  

“You wanna come with us? We’re thinking of checking out the convenience store next door,” one of them asked.  

Mina thought about it but shook her head. “Nah, I think I just want to walk around for a bit.”  

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but something about the quiet evening air called to her. She slipped on a hoodie, grabbed her phone, and snuck out of the hotel, her steps light against the pavement. She had no particular destination—just the thrill of being somewhere unfamiliar.  

That’s when she spotted the small, dimly lit restaurant across the street. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a cozy, family-owned place with a few tables inside. Her stomach rumbled slightly. Maybe she could grab a quick bite before heading back.  

She pushed open the glass door, and the little bell above it chimed. The warm scent of sizzling food hit her instantly. She was just about to look for a seat when—  

“Are you following me?”  

That deep, familiar voice.  

Mina turned her head and saw him—T.O.P—sitting alone at a table near the window. He had a half-finished plate of food in front of him and a cup of soda he was lazily swirling with his straw.  

Her heart skipped a beat.  

“You wish,” she said, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.  

T.O.P grinned, kicking the chair across from him lightly. “Well, since fate keeps throwing us together, might as well sit.”  

Mina hesitated for a second before sliding into the seat.  

“What are you even doing here alone?” she asked.  

He shrugged. “I don’t like crowded hotel rooms. And I figured I’d get some decent food before they trap us with cafeteria meals tomorrow.”  

She laughed. “Smart move.”  

They ordered a few dishes to share, and as they ate, their conversation flowed naturally. They talked about school, music, the most embarrassing things they had done in class. Mina found out that despite his laid-back and cool demeanor, T.O.P was actually hilariously awkward at times—especially when he talked about getting caught sleeping through an exam once.  

The restaurant was nearly empty by the time they realized how late it was. The only sound left was the soft hum of an old radio playing some ballad in the background.  

Mina leaned back in her chair, sipping the last of her drink. “You know, this is kind of weird.”  

“What is?” T.O.P asked, tilting his head.  

“That we just met today… but it doesn’t feel like it.”  

He studied her for a moment before a small, almost secretive smile played on his lips.  

“Maybe we were meant to meet,” he said casually, but there was something in his voice—something deeper.  

Mina felt her face grow warm, and she quickly looked away, pretending to check her phone.  

“We should probably head back before the teachers catch us,” she mumbled.  

T.O.P chuckled but stood up, grabbing his jacket. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to get detention before the trip even starts.”  

As they walked back to the hotel, the air between them felt different—warmer, charged with something unspoken. Their steps slowed as they reached the entrance, neither of them really wanting to say goodnight just yet.  

Mina hesitated before finally looking up at him. “Thanks… for earlier. At the supermarket.”  

He gave her a lazy smirk. “Anytime.”  

And just as she turned to leave, she felt a gentle tug on her hoodie sleeve.  

“Hey.”  

She turned back, and for the first time, his usual teasing expression softened.  

“I hope we run into each other again tomorrow,” he said, his voice quieter.  

Mina felt her heart flutter, but instead of answering, she simply smiled���because something told her that they would.

tysm for supporting my first ff >_<

[greenxgloss]

BELLE'S MASTERLIST Writing Tips

HIII im Belle, short for Isabella (i’m 19<3) isfp and don’t have preferred pronouns i’m okay with any Xb Everything I write is pure fiction written for the enjoyment of fans using celebrities and characters as face claims. just fun and entertainment

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

RULES 18+

What I will write: I primarily write Rory Culkin content on this blog at this point though previously having been an even peters account. i try my best to answer all requests that i get, unless they go against things that i write. minors dni. assume its all nsfw

what i won't write: incest, pedophilia (age gaps where one is a minor), scat play, watersports, race play, omegaverse, age play, puppy play

Evan Peters / AHS

Jimmy Darling A-Z I've been here long before you. Pretend pt1. Pretend final part "And I, You." Scripted PART 1 Juliet. Scotty Doesn't Know Lemons Prom? Dear Tate, Lip Ring Dating Peter Maximoff First Job/ Alex Best Friends With The Evans PT.1 Best Friends With The Evans PT.2 Digested-Human Art blurb Peter on Halloween Rory Monohan NSFW Alphabet First Kiss/ Peter Maximoff Fantasy/ Kyle spencer Hentai/ Tate Langdon Dating Ralph Bohner Confession/ Kit Walker Quiet - Evan Peters Rotten Apple (Kit Walker)

Rory Culkin

Clyde (Electrick Children) Honey To The Bee Meet Cute (mini-series) master list Chris Kenton (Twelve) Dating Chris Kenton Gabriel (Gabriel) Love Is A Gentle Thing (Gabriel 2014) Dating Gabriel (NSFW)

Charlie Walker (Scream 4) Friends For Now? 7 Minutes (Charlie Walker) Movie Date (Charlie Walker) School Dance (Charlie Walker) NSFW

Scott Bartlett (lymelife) we'll Never Have Sex (Scott Bartlett) First Date - Scott Bartlett

Marcus (Swarm) Marcus HCs (swarm)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure) Turn Me On (Mike 5lbs Of Pressure)

Possum (Welcome to Willits) Puff Puff Pass (Possum)

MISC

Otis Milburn (link broken </3) Eddie Munson Glenn Rhee Colin Shea

Min Yoongi Masterlist G Dragon Masterlist KPop Masterlist

REQUESTS: OPEN/CLOSED

[ikwon1c]

Midnight Rendezvous

characters: kwon jiyong x y/n

summary: you and kwon jiyong are just two restless YG trainees who can’t seem to stay out of trouble or away from each other. you both know it’s risky, but sneaking out feels easier than ignoring the pull between you.

tags: 18+ smut, forbidden tension and romance, suggestive content, first love, coming of age, a bit of a comedy, light fluff (both are legal age)

i love this baskin robbins cf they did before 🥹 also, posting this because i won’t be back for a while!

—

It was past midnight when you slipped out of your room, the hallways dimly lit and nearly silent except for the distant hum of the ventilation system. The dorm was quiet, the other trainees long asleep after the brutal hours of practice earlier that day.

You crept barefoot down the hall, heartbeat thudding in your ears as you approached Jiyong’s room. The door was already cracked open, an invitation.

You slipped inside, the faint glow from the moon filtering through the thin curtains. The room was cramped, with bunk beds lining the walls. Daesung was sprawled out on the lower bunk, mouth hanging open as he snored softly. Youngbae was curled up in the top bunk, half-buried beneath a pile of blankets. Seunghyun lay on his back in the corner, one arm resting over his face.

Jiyong was sitting on the edge of his bed, hoodie pulled over his head, head tilted back slightly as he watched you. A slow smile curled at the corners of his mouth as you carefully closed the door behind you.

“Took you long enough,” he whispered.

“You said they were asleep,” you murmured, glancing nervously at the others.

“They are.” Jiyong’s gaze darkened as he reached for your hand. His fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you toward him.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered, even as you let him pull you down onto the mattress beside him.

Jiyong smiled lazily. “Not if you’re quiet.”

Your breath hitched as his hand slid beneath the hem of your sweatshirt, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist. His mouth brushed over your jaw, lingering at the shell of your ear.

“Ji,” you whispered, glancing toward the bunks.

Jiyong’s lips curved against your skin. “They’re not going to wake up.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Instead of answering, Jiyong slipped his hand beneath the hem of your hoodie, fingertips skimming the sensitive skin of your ribs. Your breath hitched as his mouth found your neck, kissing the spot just beneath your ear.

“Relax,” he murmured. His hand slid higher, brushing beneath your bra. You stiffened.

“Ji—”

His mouth cut you off, kissing you slow and deep. His hand slid further beneath the fabric, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You gasped into his mouth, and Jiyong’s hand tightened on your waist as he pushed you down onto the mattress.

“You need to be quiet,” he whispered, eyes glittering in the dark.

You bit down on your lip as Jiyong’s mouth found your collarbone, kissing a slow path down toward the neckline of your hoodie. His hand pushed the fabric upward, exposing more of your skin to the cool air. His lips brushed over your chest, warm and lingering.

Your breath hitched. “Jiyong—”

“Shhh.” His hand slid behind your back, unhooking your bra in one smooth motion. His mouth curled into a smile as he pushed the fabric up, exposing you to the dim light filtering through the room.

He dipped his head, lips wrapping around the sensitive peak. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound that escaped as Jiyong’s tongue flicked over you. His hand slid beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, teasing the edge of your underwear.

You gasped.

His other hand gripped your thigh, parting your legs beneath the blanket. You could feel him smiling against your skin when you trembled.

“You good?” he whispered, glancing up at you through hooded eyes.

You nodded breathlessly.

Jiyong’s mouth slid lower, kissing down your stomach as his hand slipped beneath the band of your underwear. His teeth grazed your hip bone, making you shudder.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Jiyong’s smile sharpened as he slid down beneath the blanket. “No, you don’t.”

And then his mouth was on you.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as his tongue dragged slow and deliberate over you. His hands pinned your hips down as he worked you over, licking and sucking in a rhythm that made your head spin. Your thighs trembled as he flicked his tongue just right, and you nearly gasped aloud before biting down on your lip to stay quiet.

Jiyong chuckled beneath the blanket, the sound vibrating through you. His tongue curled, and your back arched against the mattress as heat coiled low in your stomach.

“Ji—”

Jiyong’s hand slid up your thigh, pressing down as his mouth quickened its pace. You trembled beneath him, the pressure building dangerously. His tongue swirled, and your whole body tensed.

And then Seunghyun shifted in his bed.

Jiyong froze.

You both went completely still, breath locked in your throat.

Seunghyun mumbled something incoherent, rubbed his face, and then rolled over.

Jiyong’s head popped up from beneath the blanket, his face flushed, mouth glistening as he grinned down at you. “Close one.”

You slapped his chest. “Are you insane?”

Jiyong chuckled, pressing his mouth to yours in a quick kiss before settling back onto the mattress beside you. His arm slid around your waist as he pulled the blanket back over you both.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered.

Jiyong smiled, his breath brushing against your ear as his hand slid beneath your hoodie to rest on your waist.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But you’ll come back anyway.”

You sighed. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You rolled your eyes but you didn’t push his hand away.

You bit down hard on your bottom lip as Jiyong’s hand slid down your thigh, fingers pressing in your thighs. His eyes were dark in the low light, lips swollen from kissing you. Beneath the blanket, his hand moved deliberately, teasing over your hip bone and lower, making your breath hitch and your heart pound so loud you were sure it would wake the others.

“Ji,” you whispered, your voice tight with anticipation and nerves.

His mouth brushed over your jawline, down to the hollow of your throat. His hand slipped, fingers brushing over you in a slow, lazy rhythm that made you arch against him. His other hand slid beneath the blanket, fingers curling around your thigh to pull you closer.

“You okay?” Jiyong whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded, even though your whole body was trembling beneath him.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll take care of you.”

His mouth captured yours in a deep kiss.

He pushed his hoodie over his head, revealing the lean, toned lines of his body in the dim light. His hand slid beneath the blanket, brushing over the bare skin of your thigh as he settled between your legs.

Your heart hammered. “Ji…”

His forehead pressed to yours. “You sure?”

You hesitated but then you nodded. “Yeah.”

Jiyong’s eyes softened. He leaned down, kissing you slowly, his hand sliding up to cup your face. His mouth lingered as he shifted between your thighs, lining himself up with you.

“It’s my first time too,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “So we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

You swallowed hard, breathless. “Okay.”

Jiyong’s hand slid down to your hip as he pushed forward. The stretch was immediate — a sharp pressure that made you gasp and grip his shoulder.

“Shh,” Jiyong whispered, pressing his mouth to your temple. “Breathe, baby.”

You dug your nails into his shoulder as he pushed in further, your body tensing as the sharp ache spread through you. Jiyong froze immediately, his hand brushing over your hair.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, breathless.

You nodded, biting down on your lip to keep from making a sound.

Jiyong cupped your face, his eyes searching yours. “I can stop.”

“No,” you whispered, voice strained. “Just… slow.”

Jiyong’s jaw tightened, his breath shaky as he pressed another kiss to your lips. His hand slid down to your hip as he eased forward slowly, giving you time to adjust. His forehead pressed to yours as his hand curled around the back of your neck.

Your whole body trembled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the ache deepened. Jiyong’s thumb brushed over your cheek, his mouth pressing soft kisses along your jawline.

“You okay?” he whispered, his voice rough.

You took a shaky breath, your arms sliding around his back. “Yeah… just—”

Jiyong’s hips rolled slightly, and a sharp whimper escaped your throat before you could stop it.

“Mm?”

You both froze.

Youngbae shifted in the top bunk, mumbling something under his breath.

“Practice…” Youngbae murmured, voice slurred with sleep. “Jiyong… don’t… forget…”

You stiffened, your breath hitching. Jiyong’s eyes widened. His hand tightened on your hip, holding you perfectly still beneath him.

Youngbae sighed and rolled over.

After a moment, Jiyong’s mouth twitched. He bit back a laugh as he looked down at you. “We’re so dead if they wake up.”

You shot him a glare, your hands still clutching his back. “This isn’t funny.”

Jiyong’s mouth curved. “No, but you’re so cute when you’re trying not to moan.”

You swatted at his arm, but Jiyong just leaned down and kissed you, soft and sweet.

“Relax,” he murmured against your lips. “Just focus on me.”

You swallowed hard and nodded. Jiyong’s hand slid down to your thigh as he pushed in a little deeper and the sharp ache began to melt into something warmer, something softer.

You exhaled slowly, your hands sliding up his back.

“That’s it,” Jiyong whispered, his forehead pressed to yours. His breath hitched as he moved carefully, his hips rolling in slow, shallow thrusts. “You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the burn softened, giving way to a deeper pressure that made your body hum. Jiyong’s mouth brushed over your jawline, his hand sliding between your thighs to stroke you gently, easing the tension.

“Ji,” you whispered.

Jiyong’s lips curved. “Yeah?”

“More,” you breathed.

Jiyong’s mouth curled into a smile as he pushed deeper. You gasped, hands gripping his back as pleasure curled low in your stomach.

“You feel so good,” Jiyong whispered against your ear. His hand slid over your hip, guiding you as he rocked into you with slow, measured movements.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stay quiet but then Daesung shifted in the bunk below Youngbae.

“…Noona…more kimchi…?”

Jiyong stilled immediately, his eyes going wide. You clapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

Jiyong pressed his face into your neck, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep from laughing too.

“We’re going to get caught,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Then we better finish quick,” Jiyong murmured, his lips brushing over your ear.

You opened your mouth to protest but then he thrust into you a little deeper, and you had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out.

Jiyong groaned quietly against your neck, his hand sliding down your thigh as he picked up his pace, his movements still controlled and careful despite the heat building between you.

You buried your face in his shoulder, nails digging into his back as he chased his release. His breath hitched, his lips brushing over your jawline as his rhythm quickened.

“I’m close,” Jiyong whispered. His hand slid between you, thumb rubbing gentle circles over you until you trembled beneath him.

You bit down on your lip hard as heat coiled in your stomach. “Jiyong…”

“I’ve got you,” Jiyong whispered.

Your whole body tensed as the wave hit you, your breath stuttering as pleasure rippled through you. Jiyong’s grip on your waist tightened, and with one last thrust, he groaned softly into your shoulder as he followed you over the edge.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your breathing, the quiet hum of the ventilation system.

Jiyong’s head dropped to your shoulder as he kissed your collarbone, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His body was warm and heavy against yours, his breathing uneven.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, still breathless. “Yeah.”

Jiyong’s mouth curled into a lazy smile as he pulled back slightly to look at you. His eyes were soft. “That wasn’t so bad for a first time, right?”

You laughed, brushing your hand over his hair. “Could’ve been worse.”

Jiyong smiled. He leaned down and kissed you, slow and sweet. “I’m glad it was with you.”

You blushed, but before you could say anything, Seunghyun rolled over in the bunk across the room and muttered, “Shut up.”

You both froze.

After a moment, Jiyong pressed his forehead to your shoulder and bit back a laugh.

“We’re dead,” you whispered.

Jiyong grinned. “Totally worth it.”

—

The next morning, you sat at one of the cafeteria tables, nursing a cup of coffee like your life depended on it. Your hoodie was pulled over your head, shielding your face from the harsh fluorescent lights and the noise of dozens of trainees chattering around you. The aftermath of last night still lingered in your body, the faint ache in your thighs, the heaviness in your limbs, and the ghost of Jiyong’s mouth on your skin.

You were trying very hard not to think about it.

“You look like death,” Chaerin’s voice cut through the fog. She dropped her tray onto the table with a loud clack and slid into the seat across from you. “Rough night?”

You flinched. “What makes you say that?”

Chaerin raised a perfectly arched brow. “Because you’re clutching that coffee like it’s a lifeline, and you’re sitting like your whole body hurts.” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you do last night?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, lifting the coffee to your lips. You barely tasted it.

Chaerin’s eyes sharpened. “Wait… did you sneak out?”

You froze.

“Oh my God, you did.” Her eyes widened in realization. “Who were you with?”

“Shhh,” you hissed, glancing around as some of the other trainees at the next table turned toward you. “Keep your voice down!”

“Oh, this is good.” Chaerin leaned forward, a sly smile curling at the edges of her lips. “Was it—”

“Morning.”

You nearly choked on your coffee.

Jiyong slid into the seat next to you, looking maddeningly relaxed. His brown hair was still damp from the shower, tousled in that effortless way that only he could pull off. He was wearing a black hoodie, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his mouth curled lazily as he leaned his elbow on the table.

“Ji,” you said tightly.

Chaerin’s gaze darted between you two, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Wait. Wait.”

Jiyong smirked at you. “You look tired,” he said, his voice low and teasing. His eyes glinted with amusement.

You shot him a murderous glare. “I wonder why.”

Jiyong’s hand slid beneath the table, his fingers brushing lightly against your thigh. You inhaled sharply, barely managing to keep from reacting as Chaerin’s eyes widened.

“No. No.” Chaerin’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jiyong chuckled, not even trying to deny it. “Morning, Chaerin.”

“Morning?” Chaerin repeated, scandalized. She leaned in, eyes blazing. “Did you two—”

“Eat your food, CL,” Jiyong cut her off with a smile.

Chaerin’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t over.”

You shot Jiyong a glare, but he just grinned and took a sip of your coffee like it was his. His hand was still on your thigh beneath the table, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your sweatpants. You wanted to shove him away, but at the same time… you didn’t.

“Hi guys!”

Daesung slid into the seat next to Chaerin, tray piled high with eggs, rice, and enough kimchi to feed an army. Youngbae followed, setting his tray down as he yawned.

“Morning,” Youngbae said sleepily. He rubbed his eyes, then squinted at you and Jiyong. “Why do you two look… suspicious?”

You stiffened. Jiyong’s hand tightened slightly beneath the table.

“Suspicious?” Jiyong repeated innocently.

“You guys didn’t sneak out last night, did you?” Daesung said around a mouthful of rice.

Chaerin’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, they—”

“Nope,” you cut in quickly. “We were both asleep, right Ji?”

“Deeply asleep,” Jiyong agreed, his smile sharp. His hand slid higher on your thigh.

Chaerin snorted. “Sure.”

Just then, Seunghyun wandered over, dark circles under his eyes and a cup of coffee in hand. He sat down heavily and glanced at you and Jiyong with a disapproving look.

“You woke me up,” Seunghyun said flatly.

You went rigid. “What?”

“You woke me up,” Seunghyun repeated. He narrowed his eyes at Jiyong. “There were… sounds.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped. Daesung stopped chewing. Youngbae’s eyes widened slightly.

Jiyong smiled coolly. “Must’ve been dreaming, hyung.”

Seunghyun’s gaze darkened. “You sure about that?”

Jiyong’s smirk widened. He leaned back lazily, arm resting on the back of your chair. “Positive.”

Seunghyun’s eyes lingered on the way Jiyong’s hand was resting a little too close to your hip, then shifted toward you.

“You two are going to get caught,” Seunghyun said, tone low and knowing.

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I hate you all.”

Jiyong just laughed. “No, you don’t.”

[bettelaboure]

⊹ Mile High ⊹ Kwon Ji-yong

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Kwon Ji-yong x Reader

⊹ Summary: Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon) and the reader—his tour manager's assistant—amid the chaos and intimacy of a world tour in 2025. Their teasing banter grows into deep affection, culminating in moments of vulnerability, connection, and a quietly powerful love that lingers long after the final encore.

⊹ Warnings: mature language and suggestive content, emotional vulnerability and themes of burnout, references to illness and exhaustion

⊹ Author's note: i'm trying to push myself out of my comforting smut and angst. what do we think about sweeties? 🤍

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

You never meant to get so close to him.

But cities bled into each other like watercolor on a hotel napkin—Lisbon to Prague to Tokyo—and somewhere in the blur of passport stamps, sleepless nights, and hastily ordered lattes, Kwon Ji-yong started slipping under your skin. What began as harmless proximity soon became a slow entanglement of glances, whispered jokes, and quiet, charged moments you didn’t know how to name.

You meet him for the first time in Berlin, two hours behind schedule and six minutes before the soundcheck meeting. The venue buzzes like a kicked beehive, everyone darting around with a job, a headset, or a minor crisis. The air is thick with urgency and sweat, stage lights blinking awake, sound techs testing mics like angry gods in the rafters.

Ji-yong strolls in with that careless kind of grace only rockstars and men with nothing to prove can manage. He's wearing sunglasses indoors—of course—and a vintage leather jacket with paint smears across the sleeve. He smells faintly of cedar and something more elusive: the kind of scent that lingers long after someone has left.

He calls you “assistant-nim” the first time. Mocking, lilting, like the title tastes wrong in his mouth but he's going to savor it anyway. He tugs his sunglasses down just enough to show the laughter in his eyes, the corners crinkling with amusement.

“Tour Manager’s assistant, right?” he says, voice dipped in that casual, velvet arrogance. "Big responsibility. Guess that means I should be nice to you."

You don’t flinch. You meet his gaze, arching a brow. "You could try being on time first."

He laughs. A low, rich sound, the kind that curls at the edges and stays with you long after he's walked away.

It begins with small things.

An inside joke here. A brush of hands when he passes you a pen. The way he calls you by your last name like it’s a dare, like he's always two seconds from smiling. You notice how often he ends up in your orbit, uninvited but never unwelcome. His presence becomes a background hum—persistent, teasing, intimate.

In Paris, during a chaotic prep for the arena's layout shift, he disappears for nearly an hour. You're about to start a very well-practiced rant when he saunters in, nonchalantly drops a pack of your favorite gum on your clipboard, and walks off without a word. Taped to it is a neon sticky note in loopy handwriting:

Still not as sharp as your tongue.

You read it five times before tucking it into your notebook.

In Seoul, the night before the show, you’re rechecking cue lists when he steals your sharpie from your hand mid-sentence. He draws a tiny, crooked heart on the back of your hand before handing it back.

"A souvenir," he murmurs, voice soft but certain. "In case you forget me."

You laugh like it means nothing. But you tuck your hand away like it means everything.

By Milan, it’s no longer just teasing. Ji-yong seeks you out. He hovers by your table during production meetings, tapping his foot to music only he can hear. He brings you coffee with your exact order scrawled in black marker on the lid. No one ever gets your order right.

“You work too much,” he tells you one night. It's after load-in, after most of the crew has vanished into their rooms or the city’s neon veins. You're hunched over lighting notes in a staff lounge when he appears, hoodie half-zipped, hair a tousled mess.

“They toss you around like a human paperclip,” he adds, settling beside you like he belongs there.

You shrug without looking up. "It’s the job."

He leans forward, elbows on knees. "No," he says, softer. "It’s not supposed to eat you."

You glance at him, surprised by the seriousness threading through his tone. He reaches out, brushes your wrist with the backs of his fingers. The touch is brief, almost clinical, but it sparks something low in your chest.

You forget the next line on your spreadsheet. You forget the spreadsheet altogether.

The night before Amsterdam, you catch a fever. It's nothing dramatic—just exhaustion with a little vengeance thrown in. But you wake up shivering in your hotel room, your voice gone raspy and your skin burning.

You’re wrapped in every spare blanket you can find, trying to type out an emergency email when there’s a knock. Groggy and unsure, you shuffle to the door and crack it open.

Ji-yong stands there, wearing an oversized hoodie, a pink beanie pulled low, and a plastic bag full of supplies.

"Someone told me you didn’t show up to call time," he says, stepping inside before you can protest. "You never skip."

You try to wave him off, mumble something about being fine, but he’s already unpacking the bag—vitamin drinks, oranges, some kind of throat tea, lozenges. He even brought tissues with little cartoon characters on them.

"I Googled what to get. Don’t laugh."

You don’t. You’re too busy watching the way his brow creases when he checks your temperature with the back of his hand. His touch is gentle, a contrast to his usual bravado. When he brushes damp hair from your forehead, you feel yourself lean into it like gravity’s shifted.

“I’ll find someone to cover for you,” he murmurs, sitting on the edge of your bed. "Stay. Rest. Let me take care of you."

You should say no. But when he adjusts your blanket and mutters something about making sure you eat, you close your eyes instead.

And for once, you let go.

Somewhere between Vienna and Vancouver, the space between you shifts.

He stands too close now. He doesn’t ask permission anymore to steal your pen—just lifts it with a wink, then gives it back with his fingers brushing yours. You start noticing the things you never let yourself think about before: the curve of his smile when he’s tired, the way he says your name when no one’s around.

The first kiss doesn’t happen in a dramatic place.

It’s backstage in Chicago, the night everything goes wrong. The printer eats the setlist, your crew chief is yelling, and Ji-yong’s been orbiting you all evening like a low, simmering star.

You whirl around, eyes blazing, voice teetering on the edge of something sharp and venom-laced. The words are already curling on your tongue—something about him always hovering, always poking at you when you're hanging on by threads—but the second your mouth opens, he steps into your space.

Your breath catches. His hand rises gently, fingertips brushing against your jaw—not firm, not forceful, just there, like a question you didn’t know you’d already answered. The chaos of the hallway fades into white noise, swallowed by the heat in his gaze.

He kisses you.

It’s not urgent, not hungry. It’s slow. Deliberate. A quiet invasion. The kind that demands nothing but takes everything. His lips move over yours like he’s memorizing a secret. His other hand finds your lower back, and you feel the steady pressure of it anchoring you to this moment, to him.

Your mind blanks. Every thought melts under the warmth of his mouth.

And when he pulls back, barely, your foreheads nearly touching, your breath mixing with his—he smirks.

"Still sharp, assistant-nim?"

You don’t answer. You grab his hoodie, tug him back in, and kiss him again—this time with everything you’ve been holding back.

There’s no warning. No preamble.

Just the press of his mouth on yours, warm and sure and devastating. His hand finds your lower back, grounding you. The hallway around you vanishes. The only thing real is the taste of him, the way he exhales through his nose like he's been holding it for weeks.

Now, he sits beside you on plane rides. His head tilts toward your shoulder when he naps. When he wakes, he offers you his water bottle without asking. You share earbuds. You share silences. You share things neither of you can quite name.

When the world tilts beneath you—from jet lag or impossible deadlines or the weight of always being needed—he’s an anchor. A tether. The only calm in the storm.

Sometimes, when the city outside blurs in neon and late-night noise, you’ll feel his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your arm. Like he’s writing something only you’re meant to read. Like he’s saying something he can’t quite voice.

He never says the words.

But he doesn’t have to.

You feel them in every shared glance, in every quiet smile he saves just for you, in the way he holds your hand when no one’s watching.

You’re the one thing on this tour he never wants to leave behind.

And maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to.

The flight to New York is an overnight haul, cabin lights dimmed to a quiet haze. Most of the crew is asleep or nodding off behind sleep masks and neck pillows. The hum of the engines becomes white noise, lulling, laced with secrets.

Ji-yong catches your eye from across the aisle. There's a subtle twitch of his mouth, that mischievous curve you’ve come to recognize as a question.

You tilt your head.

He mouths, “Come here.”

You glance around. Everyone's out cold or glued to earbuds. He slides a blanket over his lap, shifts slightly to the side in the wide first-class seat.

You hesitate for half a second before unbuckling your belt and slipping over quietly, your thigh brushing his. The armrest stays up. So does your pulse.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmurs, lips close to your ear.

You laugh softly. “So you decided to corrupt me instead?”

His hand finds your knee under the blanket, his thumb tracing a slow, dangerous circle.

“Corrupt?” he says, voice low and amused. “No. I just missed you.”

The warmth of him, the tension of proximity, the secret thrill of being hidden in plain sight—it coils inside you like a tightly wound thread.

His fingers trail higher, careful and slow, like a question. Like he’ll stop if you so much as flinch.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, press your lips against his neck just below the jawline, where his cologne softens into skin and something uniquely him. He shudders.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you whisper.

He exhales a soft laugh, but there's something reverent in the way he touches you. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just slow, deliberate devotion. Every movement a promise. Every breath between you thick with the kind of anticipation that only ever builds on flights like these—hours suspended above the world, rules blurred, gravity forgotten.

By the time you rest your head on his shoulder again, his hand still tangled gently with yours under the blanket, you're no longer wondering what this is.

But the moment stretches—longer, heavier.

His hand doesn’t stay still. His thumb slides over your wrist in slow, thoughtful circles, and the curve of your body leans closer into his. Your breaths sync, shallow and shared. His mouth grazes your temple, then the shell of your ear. The whisper of skin-on-skin sparks another slow shiver down your spine.

You glance up at him—just once—and his eyes are already on you, dark and unreadable, full of that quiet fire he only lets you see.

He leans in, and this kiss is different. This one is deeper, all tongue and heat and aching restraint. His fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt, just barely skimming the soft skin at your waist, and you suck in a breath you can’t release.

The blanket shields you both in a cocoon of velvet silence and tension. Your body turns toward his under the cover, your thigh slipping over his lap. His hands grip your hips like he’s memorizing the feel of you—grounded, present, urgent.

And though you don’t say a word, your bodies speak clearly: this isn’t just longing anymore.

It’s need.

His lips return to your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone as you tip your head back just enough to let him. He moves like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like this isn’t the first time he’s imagined you like this—unraveling slowly in his hands, out of breath, out of excuses.

And when your hand slips under his hoodie, palms pressed to the bare skin of his chest, the way he exhales your name against your throat makes your knees weak even seated.

Your heart pounds with every inch gained under the hush of the flight, under the electric hush of what’s no longer unsaid.

You shift again beneath the blanket, breath catching when his fingers dip just beneath the waistband of your leggings—slow, cautious, and absolutely certain. He watches your face closely, your parted lips, the glaze in your eyes, before his hand moves further. A slow inhale trembles in your chest as his touch finally finds you—confident and unbearably tender.

Your body curls toward his instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as his fingertips work soft, deliberate circles against you, coaxing breathless little gasps from between your lips. You bury your face in his neck, one hand clenching in the front of his hoodie, the other tangled in his hair. His mouth grazes your jaw, your cheekbone, your ear, whispering your name like a secret, like a prayer.

He knows exactly what you need. And he gives it without rushing, every motion measured, every touch speaking volumes of all the things he's never said aloud. The tension builds between your thighs, molten and electric, pooling low until you arch into him, teeth biting back a sound you can’t afford to make.

He kisses you then—deep, slow, anchoring—as your body tightens around the sensation of his hand, your legs trembling beneath the shared cover. When it finally breaks, the wave crashes over you quietly but entirely, your breath catching in his mouth as your fingers grip his shoulder like lifeline.

You collapse into him, body limp, heart roaring.

Ji-yong wraps you close, as if to protect you from gravity, from everything.

When he pulls back just enough to look at you—flushed, eyes half-lidded, chest still heaving—he grins, all mischief and tenderness.

“Congrats on joining Mile High Club.” he whispers.

You let out a soft, shaky laugh and kiss him again, slower this time, sweeter.

You move together like a confession.

And when you finally settle back into him, limbs entangled, cheek resting against his chest, your heartbeat echoing his—

You don’t even have to look to know he’s smiling.

You know.

The tour ends in a blur of tears, champagne, and confetti.

New York is the last stop, and it feels both monumental and surreal. The final show is electric, a cathartic release of everything built up over months of movement, exhaustion, and adrenaline. Ji-yong’s voice cracks with emotion during the last encore. You see it, even if no one else does.

The afterparty stretches into morning—flashes of laughter, photo ops, drunken toasts slurred in three different languages. People cry in the arms of near-strangers who’ve become family. Someone dances on a table. Someone else cries into a speaker case. Crew members embrace like war veterans, promising to keep in touch but knowing most won’t.

You find yourself in a quiet corner of the hotel suite with Ji-yong, both of you barefoot and a little drunk, watching the city flicker beneath the balcony. The glass door is open just a crack, letting in the hum of New York night.

He leans against the frame. You’re curled into the couch with a glass of something golden in your hand, his hoodie drowning your frame.

“What now?” you ask, voice raw from laughter and champagne, from everything.

Ji-yong doesn’t answer right away. He steps toward you instead, crouches in front of the couch, and rests his elbows on your knees. His hands find your hips like he needs to ground himself. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish when the sun comes up.

He studies you—really looks—and his thumb brushes the hollow beneath your lip, gentle and familiar.

“I don’t know,” he says, quiet. “I’ve never finished something and wanted to begin again this badly.”

You blink at him, heart skittering. Then, softly, you set your glass aside and lean down to kiss him—slow, with meaning. His fingers tighten slightly at your waist, and for a long moment, the room forgets the noise outside.

When you part, he stays close, resting his forehead against yours.

“Come with me,” he breathes.

You smile against his mouth. “Where?” you ask, but the question’s barely real.

“Anywhere,” he says. “Everywhere. Just… stay. Don’t let this be something we only remember when we hear a setlist.”

You draw in a long breath, studying the way his expression softens in the dim light. He’s not asking as G-Dragon the icon. He’s just Ji-yong now—tired and open and yours.

You nod. “Okay.”

His arms wrap around you like instinct, pulling you off the couch and into him, lifting you until you’re straddling his lap on the thick carpeted floor, legs tangled, noses brushing. His mouth finds yours again and again—like punctuation. Like promise.

Later, when the suite is dark and quiet and you’re curled up on the same hotel bed with his hand resting on your bare hip, you realize something.

When the tour disappears into memory—city by city collapsing behind you like folded maps—you don’t.

You stay.

Not because he asked.

Because he became the place you want to be.

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277

[kwomikailea]

♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱Introduction꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

Hello! This my first time using Tumblr as a writing/reading platform, I might try and post something here🐈‍⬛

Here is some info about me:

Ira/Mika🌕 • INFP-T💚

Current Obsessions: S.coups, Wonwoo, Seventeen, G-Dragon, and many moree

Fair warning English isn't my first language so please bear with my minimum vocabulary and grammar🙏🙏

That's all thank youuu

(⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`)

[saidrabbles]

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 :)

[peachesclose]

Meet me backstage ◎ Kwon Ji-Yong

◎ Summary: A long-simmering attraction between you and Kwon Jiyong ignites backstage after a performance, unfolding into a slow-burning, emotionally charged encounter where desire meets deep, unspoken connection.

◎ Warnings: suggestive content, i guess?

◎ ◎ ◎ ◎ ◎

The bass is still humming through the walls when you step off stage, skin hot beneath sequins and silk. Seoul’s summer air clings to you, sticky and electric, and your mind is still halfway in the last chorus. The crowd’s roar lingers in your bones. But it’s not just adrenaline that’s keeping you charged.

You didn’t expect him tonight.

Kwon Jiyong. GD. The name everyone else whispers like gospel in the industry — but to you, it’s more than legacy. It’s late-night studio sessions and glances too long to ignore. It’s the text he sent you two hours ago: “I’m watching tonight.”

You’d hoped he meant it.

And then, you saw him.

Leaning against the VIP balcony like he owned the air around him, black shirt open just enough to show a glimpse of ink at his collarbone, a drink untouched in his hand — watching you. Not your group. You. Eyes low and deliberate, lips parted like he was singing along, even though you could barely focus on your lines once you caught him there.

Now, backstage is buzzing — but none of it touches you. You’re alone in the dim corridor by your dressing room, breath caught in your throat when the door opens without a knock.

He’s here.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you say, voice lower than you meant.

He doesn’t smile — not fully. Just closes the door behind him and leans against it, eyes running over you in that way that makes it hard to breathe. “You looked good up there,” he says, voice soft and slow, velvet with heat. “You knew I was watching, didn’t you?”

Your throat tightens. You nod.

He steps closer, the scent of him filling the room like the first hit of a track you didn’t realize was on repeat in your head. Sandalwood. Smoke. Something sharp and expensive.

“You were singing my verse,” he murmurs.

“You wrote it.”

He smiles this time. “You still remember every word.”

The space between you evaporates in an instant. His fingers lift the hem of your stage outfit — not suggestively, not yet. Just a brush, feather-light, like he’s checking if you’re real. You don’t move away. You don’t want to.

“Why don’t you meet me backstage?” he whispers, quoting his own lyric — and suddenly, everything tilts.

You back into the wall, your breath catching when his hand slides up your arm. Not rushing. Never rushing. Jiyong doesn’t do anything without control, without purpose. His eyes lock with yours, asking without words.

You nod.

He kisses you like he sings — measured, poetic, dangerous in its precision. Lips brushing over yours once, twice, slow enough to make you chase the third. He lets you. His hand tangles in your hair, pulling slightly, anchoring you to him, while the other traces down your waist like he’s finding lyrics in the curves of your body.

Your heart’s beating out of time.

He mouths against your jaw, “You drive me crazy in that black outfit.”

“Then do something about it.”

He does — but not in the way you expected. No frantic need. Just closeness. Palms against your sides. A low exhale against your neck. His breath travels from your ear down the curve of your throat, lingering there, just where your heartbeat flutters the most. He kisses you there — slow, slow, slow — his signature tattooed behind your eyelids with every pulse.

It’s not just lust.

It’s something heavier. Older.

Maybe it’s the way you’ve been circling each other for years now, both too careful to touch what you couldn’t undo. Or maybe it’s the silence after the spotlight — when all that’s left is two people backstage, stripped of illusion, chasing something real.

You run your hand through his hair, fingers tugging gently at the nape as you pull him closer. “You gonna sing me that line again?”

“Which one?”

“‘Oh, you so good on your knees…’”

His eyes darken, a smirk flickering like static at the corner of his mouth. “You’re dangerous.”

“You started it.”

He sinks to his knees without breaking eye contact. His hands on your thighs are steady, reverent. But before anything else can happen, he pauses — presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, slow and deliberate. Then the other. Not moving higher.

You’re trembling before he’s even touched you.

He whispers, “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

Instead, you drop to your knees too, facing him in the quiet pulse of the backstage haze. Your forehead touches his, both of you breathing the same air, wanting the same release.

But what you say is, “This… isn’t just tonight, is it?”

His answer comes in a whisper, pressed to your mouth.

“No. This is the start.”

The room isn’t made for moments like this. It’s too cold, too white — a temporary space built for quick changes and exit routes. But the second his hands find your waist, the space warps around him.

Jiyong’s presence is commanding without trying. He doesn’t touch you like a man who’s guessing. He touches you like a man who’s been imagining this for months. Like he’s traced every inch of your body with his mind a thousand times before tonight — and now, he’s finally allowed to confirm the fantasy.

His hands slide under your jacket, knuckles brushing your bare skin. You shiver — not from cold, but from anticipation. From the weight of his gaze as he watches your reaction, as if memorizing the exact sound you make when he drags his fingers along your ribs.

“You always perform like that?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Or just when you know I’m watching?”

Your reply catches in your throat. He’s too close, too overwhelming, and his breath is warm against your skin, flooding your nerves with heat.

“I didn’t expect you,” you whisper.

“No?” He’s grinning now — wicked, confident. His fingers slide the zipper of your outfit down one slow inch at a time. “Then why were you looking up at me like you wanted me to walk down and pull you off stage?”

You swallow, the movement betraying you. He hears it. Feels it.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, thumb brushing just beneath your chest now, grazing the edge of your bra like a threat.

“No.”

It comes out hoarse. Honest.

His lips finally meet yours again, this time without hesitation. It’s not a kiss meant for cameras. It’s deep, deliberate — the kind of kiss that takes. His mouth moves with rhythm, tongue teasing yours, breath mixing until you can’t tell where you end and he begins. You grip the collar of his black shirt, feeling the silk stretch in your fists.

“Been thinking about this since Jeju,” he murmurs into your mouth. “You remember that after-party?”

You do. You remember the way he stood too close behind you in the hallway, breath ghosting over your shoulder as he passed, saying nothing. The way his hand brushed your back — not enough to be obvious, but enough to stay with you. The way you felt all night after.

“I thought you didn’t like sharing,” you murmur now, teeth catching his bottom lip.

“I don’t.” His voice dips. “That’s why I waited.”

He pulls your jacket off completely, letting it fall to the floor. The air hits your skin and you hiss through your teeth — not from cold, but from how exposed you feel under his eyes. He’s staring like he’s starving.

“You’re prettier up close,” he says. “But I already knew that.”

Then he’s on you again — hands on your hips, mouth at your neck. His lips move slowly, deliberately, down your throat to your collarbone. He doesn’t rush. He savors. Every kiss a message, every exhale a promise. You gasp when his teeth catch lightly on your skin — not enough to mark, just enough to claim. One hand slides behind your back, pulling you flush against him.

You can feel him. All of him. Hard, unyielding, and pressed right against your hips. The pressure makes your knees threaten to give, but he holds you steady.

“You good?” he murmurs, nose brushing yours.

You nod, breathless. “Better than good.”

He lets out a soft laugh — low, satisfied — and turns you slowly, backing you toward the vanity mirror. Your body hits it gently, and the cold glass is a shock against your spine. The contrast only makes the heat between your bodies more intense.

You stare at yourselves in the mirror — his dark eyes over your shoulder, your parted lips, your body pressed to his. His hands snake around your stomach, dragging up slowly, flattening against your ribs.

“Look,” he whispers in your ear.

You do.

“Look how you react to me. This is what I wanted.”

Your eyes lock in the reflection, and it’s almost too much — too intimate. But you don’t look away.

His lips skim your shoulder, then lower, lower. When his hands finally touch the hem of your skirt, you suck in a breath. You don’t stop him. Your head tilts back onto his shoulder, letting him explore.

Then, without warning, he lifts you.

You gasp, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His grip is strong, practiced — like carrying you is second nature. He sits you on the makeup table, knocking over a few compacts and brushes that clatter to the ground. Neither of you care.

He leans in, forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“We don’t have to go further,” he says, and it’s real — not a line. His eyes are serious, even while his body is still pressed tight against yours.

You place your hands on his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

“I want to,” you whisper. “But not fast. Not like I’m another stop on your tour.”

That stops him. Something flickers in his eyes — guilt? Respect?

He leans forward, kisses your temple, your cheek, your lips — all soft now, all careful.

“Then I’ll go slow,” he says. “So slow you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”

You close your eyes and let yourself fall.

Not into lust. Not into recklessness.

Into him.

[angel-writes-here]

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.

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

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Covenant Masterlist

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[xxtoptaexx]

Velvet Reverie

choi seunghyun (VANTH) x reader

Summary : She didn’t belong in the Veld. But the dark had noticed her. And it was beginning to listen.

Warning A Dark, Mysterious Romance

a/n : did yall miss me??

Solenne Vale had a habit of ignoring locked doors, warning signs, and good advice.

At 18, she already knew what most people spent their lives avoiding: the world wasn’t enough. Not the soft-town streets she grew up on. Not the sea breeze that tousled her hair every morning. Not even the books she consumed under the covers until her eyes ached.

She wanted more. More darkness. More strangeness. More answers to questions she didn’t dare ask aloud.

So when the sound started — that distant, metallic hum drifting on the night wind — she didn’t hesitate. It came from the edge of the woods. The place no one went. The place they warned her about in the kind of tone that begged to be disobeyed.

She smirked to herself, tugged on her boots, and slipped out the window like she’d done a hundred times before.

The forest was wrong the second she stepped past the treeline.

The air was denser, richer. Like it had weight. The trees were impossibly tall, their bark black as oil and textured like old scars. Leaves shimmered with a violet hue under a sky that wasn’t the sky she knew. There were no stars. Just something... glimmering faintly in the far black above, like eyes half-closed in thought.

She didn’t slow. She liked the way her heart beat faster here. The thrill of not knowing. Of possibly dying. Of maybe discovering something no one else ever had.

Branches snapped behind her. She spun.

Nothing.

“Nice try,” she muttered with a grin, brushing silver hair out of her face.

The sound grew louder — not just a hum anymore, but a melody. Thin, slow, almost like a lullaby played backward. It wrapped around her bones, tugging her forward. She ducked under low branches, boots kicking up strange golden dust from the forest floor. It smelled like petrichor and something sweetly rotten.

And then—

She broke through a curtain of vines and stumbled into a clearing.

The world blinked. Literally — blinked. For a second, the trees moved, like they were exhaling. Like they had lungs. And somewhere, deep in that thick silence…

Someone was watching her.

She didn’t see him. Not yet. But something electric passed through her spine.

Solenne scanned the shadows with narrowed eyes. “Alright,” she whispered to no one, “come out and kill me or leave me alone.”

The forest chuckled.

Or maybe that was her imagination.

She stepped forward anyway.

Far above her, cloaked in the highest tangle of thorned branches, Vanth watched.

Still as stone, pale eyes glowing faintly from under a low black hood. He had seen countless intrusions into the Veld — animals, men, spirits.

None like her.

She walked with no fear. No caution. She grinned at the darkness.

And that grin — that wild, defiant grin — disturbed him more than any spell or scream ever had.

He didn’t move. Not yet.

He wanted to see what she’d do next.

DID U GUYS ENJOY THIS??? lmk in the comments

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[ldydeath]

My Heaven | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Jiyong wants to marry you.  Warnings: None. Author’s Note: This is short sappy fluffy fic in honor of Valentine's Day.

Today was your five year anniversary and Jiyong wanted to make today as special as possible. It was no secret that the man was crazy about you, he only told you every chance he got. Which is why tonight at dinner, he was going to propose to you. Jiyong had been talking about marriage for a long time now, bringing it up in interviews. Tonight had to be perfect. Jiyong didn’t know what he’d do if you said no. He wasn’t going to think about that right now, he had too many other things to prepare than to think about the worst case scenario. 

You had been given very clear instructions to pamper yourself that day, mani, pedi, buy a new outfit, all at his expense and then meet Jiyong at the restaurant for dinner. You weren't stupid, or at least you hoped you weren’t. Men didn’t usually drop such large hints when they were about to propose but Jiyong couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. Not that he’d said anything, but he was good about dropping the biggest, most obvious hints. You’d had butterflies in your stomach all day as you pampered yourself for your big date. There was nobody else in the world for you and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with your soulmate. 

“Hi you.” You grinned at your boyfriend as you walked into the restaurant.

You took note that it wasn’t the fanciest place you’d imagined but you trusted Jiyong, whatever his vision was you knew you’d see it soon.

“Hi.” He grinned, standing up to greet you with a kiss.

He was nervous, something he’d never been good at hiding but you hoped you could reassure him throughout the night that you knew and it was an easy yes. He had to know this was all you’d ever wanted, since the first day you’d met him. He was special, he was amazing, he was yours. Who wouldn’t want to be with him for the rest of their life? 

“How was your day?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the question, and he raised a brow in response. You shook your head taking a sip of your wine.

“It was good, how was yours?” He leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips.

“It was good.” 

As you two ate, he continued to tease you, asking questions and watching your disappointed reactions every time. This was definitely more fun than leaving hints around the house for you. Not that he didn’t have more tricks up his sleeve, because of course he did. He cleared his throat as he finished eating and leaned over the table, a card dangling from his fingers. You eyed it suspiciously before taking it from his fingers. 

“What’s this?” You looked up at him before eying the card again trying to make sense of the address on it.

“Meet me there in twenty minutes.” His eyes scanned your body, before he tilted his head to look down at your shoes. “Might want to change those.” He stood up, adjusted his coat and walked over to you, planting a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you soon. Dinner’s already paid for.” He winked at you before walking out of the restaurant. 

What the fuck? This man was going to drive you insane but you couldn’t help the grin from spreading across your face. The address he’d given you was to one of your favorite spots in town and you couldn’t wait to get there. You had time though, it was an easy five minute drive to the location and you didn’t want to arrive early. He too needed to be kept guessing. 

You pulled up at the park and made your way through the entrance, not sure where to go when you spotted a faint glow off in the distance. Your stomach was currently doing summersaults, why were you nervous? It was only the moment you’d been waiting for for nearly five years. Spotting Jiyong standing in the middle of the courtyard you smiled as you made your way to him. 

He’d lined up the circle with roses and twinkling lights, making it look like a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Which it was, every day with Jiyong had been a fairy tale. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw him. His face lit up and he grinned at you.

“Took you long enough.” You rolled your eyes as you stopped in front of him. 

“Had to change my shoes, remember?” He smirked at your comment, pleased that his trick had worked. "What's all this?" You knew the answer, but you needed him to say it.

Grabbing your hands in his, you offered him a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes stayed locked on his, trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Which was getting difficult with the way he was looking at you. He always looked at you like you were the only person on the planet but this was different, somehow. More intense, more love than you’d ever remembered seeing. 

“You are by far the best thing to ever happen to my life. I knew when I met you that you were different, I wasn’t prepared for how you were going to come in and flip everything upside down. Everyday's an adventure with you, I genuinely have no idea what’s going on in that brain of yours or what you’ve got planned for us and I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He paused, pulling a box out of his pocket, your breath catching in your throat as he smirked at you before kneeling down on one knee. “I had so many things prepared to say to you but I’m afraid if I don’t ask you now I’ll chicken out. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me, will you marry me?” 

You stood there for a minute trying to get the words to come out, all you wanted to do was yell yes a thousand times but you couldn’t get the words to come out. You nodded your head frantically and Jiyong grinned at you as he moved to slide the ring on your finger. 

“Yes, yes…a million times yes.” You cried as you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He laughed before covering your lips with his. “Oh my god, I’m going to be Mrs. Dragon” you squealed as you pulled away, bringing your hand up to your face to examine the ring. Not that you cared at all about the design, you only cared about the man it belonged to.

Jiyong laughed, shaking his head as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you back through the park. “Maybe we should try Kwon.” He teased and you shook your head. You’d tell him some other time that you would be requesting all your friends to call you Mrs. Dragon from here on out. He was the one that said he liked you keeping him guessing anyway. 

“I love you.” He sighed into your hair as he planted a kiss on your forehead, opening your car door in one swift moment. God, he was so hot when he oozed this natural confidence.

  “I love you too, Mr. Dragon.” You leaned up pecking his lips and he rolled his eyes as you slid into your car. 

He had the rest of his life to argue with you about names. If you wanted to be Mrs. Dragon, he’d call you that, whatever you wanted. He was going to spend the rest of his life spoiling you. 

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