#kwon jiyong scenarios

[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.”

[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

[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

Please do not repost my work

Covenant Masterlist

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]

Taglist form 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 OPEN

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

[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💚 • 17yrs🎉

Current Obsessions: Kwon Ji-yong/GD, Seventeen,Stray Kids, ENHYPEN and many mor(⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~

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

That's all thank youuu

(⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡(⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

[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. 

tag list: @wcnderlnds, @alosss-blog@sooyasya@dprvivi@infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @loveesiren

[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]

Versace on the floor ◎ Kwon Ji-yong

◎ Summary: A passionate and tender night unfolds between you and Ji-Yong, where slow-burning desire, deep emotional connection, and mutual vulnerability lead to an unforgettable, intimate experience beneath the chandelier’s glow.

◎ Warnings: none

◎ Author’s note: i saw that post after writing it, but shoutout to @gdinthehouseee for the idea! check out her fics, they are amazing! literally, they are masterpieces!

◎ ◎ ◎ ◎ ◎ ◎

The city lights of Seoul shimmered beneath the expansive night sky, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets. From the penthouse suite atop a luxury hotel, the world below seemed distant, almost unreal. The room was adorned with opulent decor: velvet drapes, a grand chandelier, and a plush sofa that beckoned relaxation.

You stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the metropolis. The soft hum of jazz played in the background, setting a mellow tone. The door behind you clicked open, and the familiar scent of Ji-Yong’s cologne wafted in, a blend of sandalwood and citrus that always made your heart race.

He approached silently, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Beautiful night,” he murmured, his voice a gentle caress against your ear.

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. “It is,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He led you to the center of the room, where the chandelier’s light danced across the polished floor. Taking your hand, he pulled you close, swaying gently to the rhythm of the music. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment.

As the song transitioned to a slower melody, Ji-Yong’s hands traced the contours of your back, his touch igniting a trail of warmth. “Let’s not rush tonight,” he said, his lips brushing against your temple. “I want to savor every second with you.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in anticipation.

He stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning your figure, admiration evident in his gaze. “That dress,” he began, his fingers lightly grazing the fabric, “is stunning. But I think it would look even better on the floor.”

A blush crept up your cheeks as he slowly unzipped the back of your dress, the fabric slipping off your shoulders and pooling at your feet. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone, his hands exploring the newly revealed skin.

Guiding you to the plush sofa, he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with reverence.

The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered promises, tender touches, and shared laughter. Every moment was a testament to the deep bond you shared, a connection that transcended words.

As dawn approached, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Ji-Yong pulled you close, wrapping you in his embrace. “Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You nestled against him, your heart full. “Always,” you replied, knowing that this night was just the beginning of many more to come.

The music shifted—low, slow, honey-smooth. The kind of song that lingered in the air and wrapped around your spine like silk. Ji-Yong’s hand didn’t leave yours, even as he led you from the glass balcony back into the heart of the suite. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, absent-minded but intimate, like a silent promise.

“Come here,” he said, voice low, tugging you toward him as you both stopped in front of the velvet sofa.

You didn’t need to speak. The energy between you had shifted—no longer playful, no longer just comfort. It was thick now, humming, electric. Your eyes locked, and for a beat too long, neither of you moved. Then he reached up, gently cupping your face with both hands, his fingertips grazing your jaw, his touch feather-light.

“You drive me crazy,” he said, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you.

Not rushed. Not demanding. Slow. Intentional. Like he had all the time in the world to memorize you.

Your hands slid up his chest instinctively, feeling the firm lines beneath his shirt, and curled behind his neck to anchor yourself to the moment. Ji-Yong deepened the kiss just slightly, tilting his head to capture more of you, his lips soft and searching. His mouth tasted like champagne and midnight—warm, addictive.

The kiss built slowly, layer upon layer, the way fire builds from a spark. His hand moved to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. Every point of contact was heat—your stomach to his, your thighs brushing, your breath tangled in his as he leaned you slightly back over the sofa’s edge.

He pulled away just long enough to look at you, his eyes dark with emotion, voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to slow down, and I will.”

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth returned to yours, more urgent now. His lips moved like he was trying to learn every inch of you—your responses, your breath, the subtle way your fingers trembled slightly at his waist. You felt his tongue tease yours, coaxing, tasting, deepening until the kiss stole the air from your lungs.

He groaned softly into your mouth, one hand slipping under the thin strap of your dress, letting it fall down your shoulder with deliberate care. His lips followed the trail—down your jaw, your throat, the curve of your shoulder. Your head tilted back against the sofa, giving him access to every inch he wanted.

“You’re unreal,” he whispered against your skin. “Like something I dreamed and pulled into life.”

His words melted into your skin, heating your core as he traced kisses along your collarbone. Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, growing bolder now, sliding over the hard lines of his chest as fabric fell away.

He leaned back for a heartbeat, eyes roaming you—your flushed cheeks, parted lips, the slow rise and fall of your chest. Then he bent to kiss you again, this time deeper, slower, like worship. The kind of kiss that made time dissolve.

The kind of kiss that asked questions and answered all of them at once.

And somewhere between the sighs and the gentle fall of clothes to the floor, there was that song still playing softly in the background. The one with the promise you both felt in your bones.

Let’s just kiss ‘til we’re naked, baby…

The room faded, the world outside vanished, and all that remained was the heat between you and Ji-Yong—and the shimmering weight of your Versace on the floor.

[bettelaboure]

⊹ A Sin in Red and Black ⊹ | Kwon Ji-yong

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Kwon Ji-yong x Reader

⊹ Warnings: After months of separation due to his world tour, Kwon Ji-yong returns home to find you waiting with a new tattoo—his words inked into your skin as a permanent mark of your devotion. What begins as a slow-burning reunion quickly ignites into a night of dominance, passion, and the reclaiming of every touch, every whisper, and every moment lost to distance.

⊹ Summary: explicit language, dominance/submission dynamics, suggestive content, possessive themes, intense emotional and physical intimacy

⊹ requested by anonymous

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The night outside stretched endlessly, city lights flickering like distant stars, casting shadows against the walls of your shared bedroom. It had been months—months of longing, of whispered phone calls at ungodly hours, of pixelated video chats that never felt like enough.

And now, finally, Ji-yong was here. Flesh and blood. Heat and presence.

The weight of him filled the room before he even spoke. The front door had barely clicked shut behind him when he spotted you perched on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his oversized shirt, the fabric slipping off your shoulder to reveal just a tease of what lay beneath. You saw it then—the flicker in his dark eyes, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were catching his breath.

But it was when his gaze landed on the faint glimpse of red peeking from under your shirt that something in him changed.

He took slow, measured steps toward you, his presence suffocating in the best way. You could feel the weight of his exhaustion from the tour clinging to him, but layered beneath it was something sharper, something possessive.

“Stand up,” he said, his voice low, commanding.

A shiver ran down your spine at the dominance in his tone, but you obeyed. The second you were on your feet, he reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing your skin as he pushed it up, exposing the fresh ink stretching along your spine.

The air in the room thickened.

Ji-yong stilled, his breathing slow but deep as he took in the sight of your tattoo. The red serpent coiled along your back, its scales dancing with the movement of your body, and beneath it, the delicate black script in his handwriting:

"Loving you in silence, my sweetest sin."

His words.

His mark.

His jaw clenched, and then—so softly it was almost a whisper—he exhaled, "You got this for me."

Not a question. A realization.

His fingers skimmed the ink, tracing the lines as if he needed to commit them to memory. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty—it was heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts, filled with everything he hadn’t been able to say in those long months apart.

“You wanted to be marked,” he murmured, his voice rough, his lips hovering just over the inked skin. “Even when I wasn’t here, you wanted something to remind you that you’re mine.”

You swallowed hard, breath catching at the way he said it. Not with doubt. Not with hesitation. But with complete and utter certainty.

“Yes,” you whispered, barely able to get the word out before his lips pressed against your back, kissing along the delicate script.

Ji-yong made a sound—something between a hum and a growl, something deep and approving—and the next moment, his hands were on you, gripping your hips, pulling you back against him. The warmth of his body pressed into you, solid, real.

"You don't know what it did to me," he murmured, voice thick with something raw, "being away from you for that long."

You did. You felt it too. The distance, the ache, the way no amount of phone calls or late-night whispers could ever truly fill the void of not having him.

"Show me," you whispered, barely more than a breath.

Ji-yong didn’t need to be told twice.

He turned you in his arms, his hands moving to cup your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His eyes—dark, unreadable—searched yours, and whatever he found there had him pulling you into a kiss that was nothing like the soft, hesitant ones you had shared over video calls.

This was desperate.

This was months of longing, of nights spent touching yourself to the sound of his voice, of him waking up in foreign hotel rooms wishing he could bury himself in you instead of cold sheets.

His hands roamed, sliding down the curve of your waist, gripping your hips, pressing you closer, as if he needed to feel you, to make sure you were real.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about this?” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your lips. “How many times I’ve imagined having you under me again?”

Your breath hitched as his lips moved down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"You wanted me to take my time with you, didn’t you?" he mused, voice dripping with dark amusement. "You wanted me to ruin you, slowly."

A soft whimper left your lips as his hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, parting them just slightly. He chuckled, the sound deep and knowing. "That’s right, baby. And I’m not going to stop until you beg for it."

And then, the slow burn turned to fire.

Ji-yong took his time, unraveling you inch by inch, whispering sinful confessions into your skin as he relearned every part of you. His touch was both rough and reverent, like he was worshiping and claiming you all at once. His lips followed the path of the tattoo again and again, pressing soft kisses before dragging his teeth over the ink, watching the way you shivered at the sensation.

"You feel that?" he murmured, his fingers teasing, torturing, as he kept you on the edge of madness. "This is what you did to me for months."

You moaned his name, breathless, pleading, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. He wanted to hear it—the desperation, the need.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice dark, dominant. "Tell me how much you missed me."

"I—I missed you," you gasped, back arching under his touch. "So much."

"How much?" He bit down on your shoulder, soothing it immediately with his tongue. "Enough to let me take my time? To let me hear every sound you make?"

"Yes," you breathed, voice trembling. "I want all of it. I want you."

"Good girl."

And then, the tension snapped, and the fire consumed you both.

The room filled with the sound of whispered confessions and ragged breaths, of sheets twisting under the weight of bodies finally reunited. He never stopped speaking, never stopped reminding you with every touch, every kiss, that this was what you had both craved for so long.

"You’re mine," he murmured against your skin, his voice raw, possessive. "This body, this skin, this sin—all mine."

And you let him take you, let him erase the months of loneliness, let him rewrite the silence with every slow, deliberate movement.

By the time the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, your bodies were tangled, skin damp, the faint scent of sandalwood and sweat lingering in the air. Ji-yong’s fingers traced over the tattoo once more, slower this time, his touch softer.

"You don’t ever have to be silent about loving me," he murmured, voice laced with something dangerously tender. "Because I’ll always be here to remind you."

And as he pulled you closer, his lips pressing one last kiss to your shoulder, you knew—without a doubt—that neither time nor distance could ever take this from you.

This love.

This passion.

This sin in red and black.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Taglist: @janie-osuih @szonyix6277 @chrypir @redhoodedtoad @sherrayyyyy @mirahyun @sherxoo @dilfismz @forevervibezzzz1

[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

Please do not repost my work

Covenant Masterlist

Love notes, comments, and requests are appreciated!

[emmiesoverthemoon]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he’s so boyfriend: three

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

Word Count: 6,723

Summary: just cute little scenarios between u and each guy AGAIN!!! enjoy :D

part one part two

pov: realising he’s in love with you

seunghyun: to be loved is to be seen

For Seunghyun, it was never about grand gestures. There were no dramatic proclamations, no over-the-top love confessions. It was always in the smallest, quietest moments—the ones that often went unnoticed, but meant everything to him.

Like the way you absentmindedly fixed his collar before he headed out for a big event, your fingers brushing against his neck with a softness he could not quite put into words. Or the way you always brought him coffee, just the way he liked it—perfectly sweet, with just the right amount of cream, no questions asked. You never forgot. And then there was the way you saw him. Really saw him. The way your eyes understood the exhaustion beneath his smile, the way you could tell when he was stressed, even when he tried to hide it. You were the only one who knew the real him.

It was in these moments, these tiny acts of love, that he started to feel it—creeping into his chest, warm and undeniable. One day, it hit him completely, unexpectedly, while he sat across the room, watching you. You were curled up on the couch, lost in a book, and for some reason, in that quiet stillness, he realized the depth of what he felt for you. The kind of realization that did not come with a sudden rush of adrenaline or a dramatic moment. It just… was.

He did not say anything right away, though. He did not want to break the moment, did not want to disrupt the peace of it all. Instead, he tucked the feeling away inside him, pressing it deep into his heart, knowing it was something he did not have to say out loud just yet. He let himself smile, just a little, the corners of his mouth curling softly.

Later that night, when the world had settled into the quiet hum of late hours, and the only sound was your steady breathing beside him, he turned to you, his fingers gently brushing against your arm as you snuggled into his side. He knew he had to say it now. The words had been sitting on his tongue all day, waiting for the right moment.

“I really love you,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost as if he were telling you a secret only meant for the two of you. His eyes met yours in the dim light, and there was no need for anything more. The simplicity of the words said everything. No fireworks. No grand speeches. Just a quiet, honest confession that felt as real as the air he breathed.

You smiled up at him, and in that moment, he knew that everything he had felt, everything he had tucked away, was exactly what he had been meant to feel.

jiyong: sudden realisation

For Jiyong, it happened when you were laughing about something stupid—maybe you tripped over your own feet, maybe you snorted while laughing too hard. Either way, he was watching you in that moment, eyes softening, his whole world slowing down as he observed you with a quiet intensity.

And then it clicked: that he loved you, almost way too much. Almost. The realization was startlingly simple, but it hit him harder than anything ever had before. He had never known that something so subtle, so ordinary, could make his heart feel so full. It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment—it wasn’t some fiery confession. No, it was the little things, the way you made the mundane beautiful, the way you could turn an embarrassing stumble or a burst of laughter into something enchanting.

He continued to watch you, mesmerized by your every movement, by the way you laughed so freely, the way you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him. His thoughts drifted, and for a moment, it was as though time had stopped. You had unknowingly captured every ounce of his attention, and in that stillness, he realized something he hadn’t let himself admit before: He loved you. The kind of love that wasn’t about grand gestures, but about the small, everyday moments that made him feel like he had found something irreplaceable.

Jiyong zoned out completely, a soft, fond smile pulling at his lips as he stared at you, lost in his own thoughts. His heart was racing a little faster now, but there was a sense of peace in that racing, as though he had found something, or someone, that made everything fall into place.

You looked up then, noticing the way he was staring at you with that stupidly fond expression, and a curious smile crossed your face. “What's wrong?” you asked, teasing him as you leaned back on the couch.

His thoughts scattered for a moment, and he blinked, suddenly brought back to the present. He cleared his throat, his lips twitching in an attempt to hide the overwhelming affection that had just overtaken him. He tried to play it cool, tried to shove that swelling feeling back down, but there was no hiding it. Not from you.

“Nothing,” he said with a smirk, though it was much softer than usual, and his gaze remained tender. He leaned in a little closer, eyes never leaving yours. “You're just really cute, you know that?”

The sincerity in his voice, paired with the playful glint in his eyes, made your heart skip a beat, and before you could respond, he pulled you into a gentle kiss, as if to say everything his words could not.

daesung: did i say that out loud?

For Daesung, it happened unexpectedly, right in the middle of a conversation. You were talking about something you were incredibly passionate about, your eyes lighting up with that familiar, infectious spark, and your hands moving animatedly with every word you said. He had always found that side of you endearing—the way you could get so caught up in something, making it seem like nothing else in the world mattered but what you were saying at that very moment. But that day, it felt different. As you spoke, something inside him shifted. He could hear your voice, but all he could focus on was you: the way your lips moved, the little glint of excitement in your eyes, the rhythm of your breath as you got deeper into the subject. It was like the world around him faded away, and it was just you and him in that moment.

His heart began to beat a little faster, not from anxiety, but from something else entirely. It was like the realization snuck up on him, completely blindsiding him in the midst of a perfectly normal conversation. Suddenly, he found himself captivated—not just by the words you were speaking, but by you. It was in how you were so unapologetically yourself, how you made even the most mundane topics sound thrilling. How you made him feel so completely at ease, so wrapped up in your energy.

Before he could even stop himself, the words were out, slipping past his lips before he could process them: "Wow, I love you." The realization hit him so suddenly that his entire body froze. His own words seemed to hang in the air, thick and undeniable. The seconds dragged on as he watched your face freeze in surprise, your eyes widening just slightly as you processed what he had said.

Immediately, panic set in. What had he just done? He hadn't planned on saying that—not in that way, at least. He didn't even mean to say it out loud. It wasn’t like him to get so carried away, especially with something so important. But there it was, hanging in the air like an undeniable truth.

You blinked at him, and he could feel his face turning an impossible shade of red, his entire body heating up with embarrassment. His mind scrambled for something, anything to cover up the mistake.

"Uh—wait. I mean—um. Did I say that out loud?" he stammered, his voice betraying him with the nervous laugh that followed. His thoughts were scattered in a hundred different directions, and all he wanted to do was rewind time and keep his mouth shut. But that wasn’t an option. He could only stand there, heart racing, waiting for you to react.

The silence between you stretched on, unbearably long. You hadn’t said anything. You just stared at him, completely still, and Daesung felt like he might crumble under the weight of that silence. He opened his mouth again to try and make it better, but no words came out. He was stuck in his own awkwardness, unsure how to fix the mess he had made.

Then, to his shock, you smiled softly, that familiar warmth in your eyes returning as you reached out to gently touch his arm. "You really love me, huh?" you asked, voice soft but teasing, and that was it. The tension that had coiled tightly in his chest loosened just a bit. He nodded quickly, still embarrassed, but a smile started to tug at his lips as well.

"I—yeah," he said, his voice a little quieter, but there was no mistaking the sincerity behind the words. "I really do." And for the first time that day, the weight of the situation didn’t feel so heavy. Instead, it felt like something real, something that was both unexpected and inevitable all at once.

"You never told me," you said softly, your thumb brushing against the back of his hand, sending a little jolt of warmth through him.

"I know," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, still trying to play it cool but not quite succeeding. "Guess I was waiting for the right moment. But I guess I couldn’t keep it in any longer."

You laughed, a sweet, airy sound that made Daesung’s heart flutter. It was a laugh of acceptance, of understanding, and suddenly, the nervousness that had filled him earlier seemed so silly. Here he was, standing in front of you, telling you how he felt, and you were smiling back at him as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," you said with a playful grin, "I'm glad you finally said it."

Daesung smiled back, his face still flushed, but this time, the warmth was different. It wasn’t from embarrassment anymore—it was from something else, something far more comforting. He had said it. He had said it out loud, and it felt like everything he had been feeling had just clicked into place.

"Me too," he murmured, then chuckled to himself. "Even if it did come out all wrong."

But when you leaned in and kissed him softly, he forgot all about that. All that mattered was you, and him, and the fact that he had just admitted, without a single doubt, that he loved you.

pov: late night conversations

daesung: stupid and cozy

It began like any other night—soft, quiet, with your voices low as the rest of the world slept. The kind of late-night conversation that drifts from one topic to another without effort, like waves gently washing over the shore. You were curled up beside him, your limbs tangled beneath the covers, speaking in hushed tones about everything and nothing. Maybe it started with a memory, or a silly thought said half-seriously. Maybe you mispronounced something, or he said a phrase so ridiculous it did not even make sense—but suddenly, it was over.

A beat of silence, and then laughter erupted between you, sharp and breathless and uncontrollable. You tried to muffle it with your hands, biting your lip, shoulders shaking as you gasped for air. He was no better, wheezing beside you, his whole face scrunched up in helpless joy, one hand clamped over his mouth while the other gripped your arm like he needed help holding himself together.

“Stop—stop, we’re gonna wake the neighbors,” you whispered, snorting mid-sentence, which only made it worse.

“I’m trying,” Daesung wheezed, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “but your face is—oh my God—don’t look at me.”

You made the mistake of glancing at him, saw the way he was red in the face, trying so hard to hold it in, and that was it. Another wave crashed over you both, and you were once again dissolving into laughter, clinging to each other like the only way you’d survive was together.

Eventually, you tried to compose yourselves, your breathing unsteady, your cheeks sore from smiling. You turned onto your side, facing him in the dim light, catching your breath. It was almost peaceful again—until you made eye contact.

And then it started all over again.

This time, he buried his face in the pillow, cackling silently, and you threw the blanket over your head, trying in vain to muffle the noise, giggling until you were lightheaded and delirious with joy.

It was so stupid, really. So pointless. But it was one of those moments—warm and stupid and perfect. The kind of moment you would carry with you forever, tucked safely into your heart like a favorite secret.

jiyong: philosophically silly

It started the way it always did with Jiyong—head resting against the headboard, one arm lazily slung around you, his voice soft and smooth in the hush of the late hours. “Do you ever think about how time isn’t real?” he murmured, eyes half-lidded, like he was unraveling the secrets of the universe right there in bed. “Like... maybe we’re all just experiencing moments out of order. Maybe this already happened.”

You blinked at him, halfway between impressed and amused. “You’re so weird at night.”

He didn’t deny it. Just smiled a little, thoughtful. “No, but really. Think about it.”

And you did. You both did. For a while, the conversation drifted in and out of these abstract waters—free will, déjà vu, how dreams feel more real than reality sometimes. It was that kind of vulnerable, sleep-drunk honesty that only surfaced after midnight. The kind where everything felt profound and soft and safe.

Then—like flipping a switch—he turned his head toward you and deadpanned, “Also, do you think if I fought a bear, I’d win?”

You choked on a laugh. “What?”

“No, I’m serious,” he insisted, suddenly animated. “Like, not a huge one. A medium bear. I think I could take it if I had a stick.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, already laughing. “You wouldn’t last two minutes.”

“That’s rude,” he huffed, but he was grinning. “I’ve been working out. I could totally outsmart it.”

You teased him, he argued back, and somewhere between philosophy and hypothetical bear fights, you fell into a rhythm of ridiculousness that only made sense in the warmth of night.

And then—of course—you casually mentioned something from your day. A tiny bit of gossip from work. Something you hadn’t even thought about twice.

His eyes snapped to you, suddenly laser-focused. “Wait—what? Go back. Start from the beginning.”

“You care about this more than the bear thing,” you snorted.

“Obviously,” he said, sitting up straighter, completely invested. “You can’t just say something like that and not give details. Names. Tones of voice. I need context.”

You swore he was taking mental notes. Nodding. Gasps at the right places. Interrupting with “Noooo, they did not—” like he was the one living your life.

He was the perfect gossip partner. Dramatic, hilarious, and absolutely on your side.

By the time you were both tangled in each other again, the sky starting to pale with the first signs of dawn, your cheeks hurt from smiling. Your voices were hoarse from laughing and whispering and confessing everything from your deepest fears to your pettiest thoughts.

And Jiyong? He kissed your temple and muttered, “I love nights like this.”

So did you.

seunghyun: opening up

The room was still, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, casting golden shadows across the sheets. The kind of silence that wrapped around you like a blanket—gentle, comforting, safe. Seunghyun lay beside you, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other hand loosely linked with yours between you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, thoughtful strokes.

At first, it was nothing unusual—casual murmurs about the day, small observations about the way the moonlight filtered through the curtains. But slowly, something shifted in his voice. A softness. A weight. The pauses between his words stretched just a little longer, like he was deciding how much to reveal.

“I don’t like the quiet when I’m alone,” he said suddenly, not quite looking at you. “It gets too loud in my head.”

You turned toward him, your fingers tightening around his just slightly.

“And sometimes,” he continued, barely above a whisper, “I get scared I’m not doing enough. Or that I’ll wake up one day and… no one will really know who I am. Like they just see what they want.”

You didn’t interrupt. You just listened—fully, patiently, with the kind of presence that said I’m here, I see you.

He exhaled, eyes finally flicking toward yours. “But with you… I don’t feel like I have to be anything else. You’re the only person I feel like I can talk to like this.”

Your heart ached in the most tender way.

He wasn’t dramatic about it. He didn’t cry or fumble. He just laid it out with quiet honesty, the kind of vulnerability that only surfaced in the stillness of night—when the world was asleep and it felt like it belonged to just the two of you.

You reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good,” he murmured, eyes slipping closed. “Because I think I’d fall apart without you.”

And there, in the hush between heartbeats and the warmth of shared breath, something unspoken settled between you—deeper than comfort, louder than words.

You held his hand until sleep pulled you both under.

pov: waking up together

jiyong: clingy and lazy

The morning light spilled gently through the curtains, casting everything in a soft haze of gold. You stirred beneath the covers, blinking sleep from your eyes, stretching just enough to reach for your phone—or at least try to.

But before your fingers even grazed the edge of the nightstand, a warm arm snaked tighter around your waist, tugging you back into the curve of his body.

“Five more minutes,” Jiyong mumbled against your skin, voice rough and low with sleep, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You said that ten minutes ago.”

“Then what’s ten more?” he argued, barely coherent, already burying his face against the crook of your neck. “Actually... make it twenty. No—no wait. Let’s just cancel today.”

He tangled his legs with yours, anchoring you firmly in place like a sleepy octopus. He was warm, all bare skin and bed-tousled hair, the kind of soft that only came out in the mornings when he had not yet put up his usual guard. There was a low, contented sigh from him as he pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

You tried to move again—just a little—but his hold only tightened.

“Nope,” he mumbled. “Prisoner now. Sorry. You brought this on yourself, looking all soft and warm and perfect in my bed.”

You laughed again, quieter this time, and relaxed into his hold. His breathing slowed, but he did not fall fully back asleep. Instead, he hummed a little tune—something familiar but too sleep-drowsy to place—his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your hip beneath the sheets.

And in that moment—tangled in limbs and blankets, still wearing dreams on your skin—you let yourself forget the ticking clock, the responsibilities, the rush of the day waiting beyond the bedroom door.

Because here, in this quiet slice of morning, he was yours, and you were his, and that was more than enough.

seunghyun: the watcher

The sun had barely started its slow climb, spilling pale light across the room in quiet slants when Seunghyun blinked awake. It took him a second to orient himself, still wrapped in the warm haze of sleep—but then he saw you.

Peaceful. Soft. Curled into the blankets with your cheek squished slightly into the pillow, lips parted just so, breathing slow and even.

His heart did something weird. Not dramatic, not cinematic. Just this gentle clench that made him melt right into the mattress.

He did not move for a while—just laid there, propped on his side, chin resting against his hand as he drank in every little detail. Your tangled hair, the way your lashes brushed your cheeks, the faint creases on your forehead that always relaxed once you were truly resting. It made something inside him ache in the best way.

With a tenderness he almost never let anyone see, he reached forward and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, careful not to fully touch you. He did it slowly, as if even the air might disturb you. You shifted slightly in your sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and he froze, then smiled—this small, stupid smile that he could not hold back.

He could have watched you for hours.

But just as he leaned a little closer, your eyes began to flutter open.

Panic. He snapped his own eyes shut so fast he nearly headbutted the pillow, instantly going limp, like he had been sleeping this whole time.

You blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, and turned toward him just as he peeked out one eye, caught your gaze, and grinned—far too innocent.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, voice low and rough from sleep, his tone playful, like he had not just been staring at you like a smitten idiot for fifteen minutes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. “Were you watching me?”

He feigned offense. “Me? Noooo. I was definitely asleep. Dreaming. Deep REM cycle.”

You gave him a look.

He reached out, pulled you in closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Okay… maybe I peeked.”

And maybe he would again tomorrow. And the day after that. And if he could, he would every day for the rest of his life.

daesung: ultimate morning person, unless you say otherwise

The moment Daesung’s eyes cracked open, he was already on a mission. No groggy blinking, no slow stretch—just pure, mischievous energy in a barely awake body.

He turned to face you, his grin forming before his brain even fully caught up. You were still deep in sleep, bundled under the covers like a burrito, completely at peace. Naturally, he poked your cheek.

“Good morning!” he chirped far too brightly for the ungodly hour. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

You groaned, swatting at his hand, and tried to burrow deeper into the blankets like you could disappear into them. He laughed, completely undeterred. That only made him worse.

He started tugging at the blankets with exaggerated drama, trying to peel you out like a stubborn snail from its shell. “Come on,” he sang, “the sun is shining, birds are probably singing—let’s greet the day!”

But the second you reached out, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him back down into bed with you, everything changed.

He let out a soft “oof” as he landed beside you, your body warm and close, your sleepy face nuzzling into his chest without even opening your eyes.

And just like that, the chaos in him quieted. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, and he let out a contented sigh, forehead resting against your hair.

“Oh… okay,” he whispered, his grin turning softer. “Yeah, this is better.”

He didn’t try to drag you out of bed again. Not even a little.

pov: accidentally wearing matching outfits

jiyong: totally "accidental"

It all started as a typical morning. Jiyong had woken up, not thinking much about what he was throwing on—just a loose hoodie and some joggers. Nothing special. But when he saw you coming out of the bedroom in an outfit that he liked, and he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, he wanted to find something to match you.

As he looked at you, something in him clicked. He liked it. You and him—matching, without even meaning to. He wasn’t one to miss a chance for a little fun, so, with a smirk, he subtly changed his outfit, picking out the exact same articles of clothing just to make it perfect. He figured he’d act like it was a total accident, though.

You had barely stepped into the room when Jiyong looked up from his phone, his gaze dragging over you in slow motion. His smirk appeared almost instantly—lazy, amused, and laced with that familiar mischief that always meant he was up to something.

“Well, well,” he said, setting his phone aside as he stood. “Look at us.”

You followed his eyes, then looked down at yourself. The realization hit immediately: same color palette, similar silhouettes, matching energy. Neither of you had planned it, but somehow, you looked like you had coordinated a full campaign shoot for ‘effortlessly stylish couple of the year.’

Jiyong tilted his head, that smirk deepening. “We’re really that in sync, huh?”

You tried to protest, but he was already halfway across the room, smoothing the sleeve of your jacket and tugging your collar gently into place with all the care of a stylist about to send his muse onto the runway. “Wait, stand still,” he said, eyes narrowing in focus. “There. Now we really look intentional.”

He pulled out his phone before you could stop him, backing up to find the best lighting. “We’re taking pictures. This is a look. People are definitely gonna think we planned it.” He started snapping photos from different angles, occasionally pausing to fix your hair or adjust your stance, completely in his element.

You laughed, half-exasperated but fully endeared. He was so into it—so delighted by the whole situation—that you couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

By the time he finished editing the perfect shot and uploaded it, you were curled up beside him on the couch, peeking over his shoulder. He posted it with a cheeky caption:

fashion soulmates. try to keep up💅

He turned to you, grinning mischievously. “I’m gonna say it—this was totally meant to be. We’re basically the coolest couple around, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous.”

He flashed you that playful smile. “I’m serious. People will think we planned it. And I definitely didn’t change to match you on purpose.”

You raised an eyebrow, knowing full well exactly what had just happened. “Uh-huh. Sure, Jiyong.”

He gave you an innocent shrug, but his mischievous grin never left. “Okay, maybe I did change. But don’t you love it? We look good together.”

You smiled at him, shaking your head, though a part of you was totally smitten by how much fun he was having. “Alright, alright. I’ll admit it—this was way too cute to be an accident.”

With a wink, he leaned in and kissed your cheek, his playful energy never fading. “Told you. Now we’re going to be the talk of the town.”

And honestly? You couldn’t wait to see what kind of trouble the two of you would get up to next.

seunghyun: "i dont like matching"? as if!

Seunghyun had been moving around the apartment, getting ready for the day, when you walked out of the bedroom. You’d picked out your outfit—casual, comfortable, but still effortlessly stylish. You were half-focused, adjusting your jacket when you caught sight of him.

He froze mid-step, his eyes widening as they flickered from your outfit to his. There was no mistaking it. You both had practically coordinated without even trying: same muted tones, similar style, right down to the shoes.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, staring at each other. He blinked, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk.

"Wow," Seunghyun finally said, voice a little more serious than it should’ve been. “I guess we're really that in sync, huh?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You picked your clothes after me."

He tilted his head, a mock-suspicious glint in his eyes. "You think I planned this?"

You shrugged, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. He had no idea what was going on.

Then he sighed dramatically, as if this whole situation was the biggest inconvenience. “Okay, fine.” He straightened his shirt, but the corner of his mouth lifted, clearly enjoying the coincidence more than he let on. “One of us has to change.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be put out by his insistence. “What? You want me to change?”

He shot you a look. “Well, it’s not exactly my style to be that couple, you know?” But his tone wasn’t nearly as firm as he wanted it to sound. He was still staring at you, eyes flickering over your outfit once more.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was the one who was secretly enjoying this, wasn’t he?

Seunghyun, clearly feeling the weight of the situation, yanked his shirt off and grabbed another from his closet. But as he changed, he caught you looking at him with that amused smile of yours, and he couldn’t help but grin back. He paused, shirt halfway pulled over his head, as if contemplating something. Then, without missing a beat, he picked out a jacket that just so happened to be the exact same shade as yours.

“I can’t even,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief, but the soft smile tugging at your lips betrayed how much you were enjoying this.

He turned back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “What? It’s practical.”

Before you could respond, he pulled the jacket on, looked at himself in the mirror, and adjusted the sleeves—making sure everything matched perfectly. He caught you staring and just shrugged. “Guess we’re meant to be, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, you didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you liked the idea.

When you both finally headed out for the day, Seunghyun walked just a little closer than usual. His shoulder brushed against yours more than once as you made your way down the street, and when you’d turn to say something, he’d catch your eye and give you a teasing grin, his hand lingering just a fraction of an inch from yours.

You both acted like you didn’t care about the matching outfits—but the way he was so careful not to get too far ahead of you, the way his hand brushed against yours whenever you were close, told a different story. It was subtle, but you could feel the shift.

Maybe you were that couple after all.

And honestly, you didn’t mind in the slightest.

daesung: couple of the year

You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes widening as you looked at yourself and then back at Daesung. He stood beside you, both of you in practically the same exact outfit—simple, but somehow perfect. The same oversized sweater, the same color jeans, even the same shoes. It wasn’t intentional, but here you were, looking like a walking, talking couple’s Instagram post.

Daesung’s jaw dropped dramatically as he took you in. "Oh my god, we look AMAZING," he said, his voice high-pitched, making you laugh even before he could finish his sentence. He grabbed your shoulder, pulling you toward him and spinning you around as if you were both on stage. "We’re matching! We look so good. We should do this every day!"

Before you could protest, Daesung was already striking a ridiculous pose in front of you, hand on his hip and one foot kicked out, his free arm reaching for the sky like he was a fashion model. "Look at us," he continued, giggling. "Couple of the year, no competition!"

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the way he was making such a big deal out of something so silly. He was completely hyped, his infectious energy filling the room.

When you both stepped out into public, Daesung was practically glowing. He was all about it, constantly hyping you up. “Look at us,” he’d say to anyone who walked by, “we’re matching! Like, we’re so in sync, we should be on a reality show.”

He even dragged you into poses on street corners, trying to capture the “perfect couple” shot with his phone. “We’re so cute together," he teased, striking an over-the-top pose while you just shook your head, still giggling.

"Daesung, stop," you said, laughing but feeling completely warmed by his enthusiasm. He gave you a dramatic, offended look.

“Nope, not stopping,” he grinned. “You look too good not to take pictures. Look at us—we’re iconic!”

There was no way you could argue with him. Not with the way he was looking at you, all excited and proud, like he had just won some award for being the cutest couple on earth.

At that moment, you couldn’t help but feel like he was right. You did look amazing together. And even though you hadn’t planned it, maybe, just maybe, matching outfits weren’t such a bad idea after all.

pov: you wear his shirt and tiny shorts as pajamas

jiyong: #needthat

You stir awake, stretching beneath the soft fabric of his oversized shirt. The material is a bit too big, draping off your shoulders, and the tiny pair of shorts you decided to slip into make you feel oddly exposed, but also comfortably safe. You hadn’t expected him to be awake already, but the moment your eyes flutter open, you see him standing in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame.

His eyes immediately darken with mischief, a playful glint catching in his gaze. "Well, well, good morning to you too." His voice is low, smooth, and thick with intent, making your heart skip in your chest. His smirk widens as he takes you in—his shirt, his favorite one, hanging loosely around you.

You laugh nervously, pulling the fabric down a little, suddenly feeling the weight of his gaze a little too strongly. But he doesn't look away; instead, he steps closer, his eyes raking over your form like he’s savoring the sight.

"You really like wearing my stuff, huh?" he asks, the teasing note in his voice only making the atmosphere heavier, more charged. "Can’t get enough of me?"

You try to respond, but the words get caught in your throat as he closes the distance between you two. His hands are on the edge of the bed now, and he leans down slightly, his face inches from yours, that mischievous smile never leaving his lips. "How about you stay here a little longer? Just for me?" he suggests, his voice rough but full of affection, teasing you with an underlying heat that makes your pulse race.

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can, he’s climbing onto the bed beside you, moving so fluidly it feels like he’s done this a thousand times. He doesn’t let you move, gently but firmly pulling you closer until you’re pressed against his chest.

His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, "I’m not letting you go. Not today. Not when you look like that."

And just like that, you realize—you’re not going anywhere, and neither is he.

seunghyun: restrained and tempted

You woke up to the soft morning light spilling into the room, the quiet hum of the world outside just barely reaching your ears. The shirt you were wearing was his, oversized and too big for you, with the sleeves hanging off your shoulders. The tiny pair of shorts you had paired with it seem to emphasize how much you were wrapped up in his clothes—comfortable but undeniably intimate. You stood and stretched lazily, making the shirt ride up to reveal the shorts which tucked into the very top of your thighs. You were blissfully unaware that he had been watching you the entire time.

A few moments passed before you hear the door creak. You turn your head slowly, and there he is, leaning against the frame, eyes locked on you. The look he gave you sent a rush of heat to your cheeks. His gaze was intense, scanning you from head to toe, noticeably stopping on your plush thighs leading his eye to imagine your naked torso under his shirt. He said nothing for a long moment, simply staring as if trying to process the sight in front of him.

His breath caught, and finally, he let out a deep sigh, like he was trying to force himself to stay grounded. “You really expect me to focus on anything else today?” His morning voice was rough, laced with disbelief. He looked almost... tortured by the sight of you.

You couldn't help but smirk, feeling the heat between you rise. You made a show of stretching again, casually flipping the hair from your face, loving how his eyes followed your every movement. His eyes darkened even more as his lips parted, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, maybe I’m just… too tempting for you,” you replied, voice soft, but heavy with challenge.

He stepped closer to the bed, and for a split second, you think he might have actually said something else, but instead, his jaw clenched and he exhaled sharply. "I swear... you’re killing me, you know that?"

You laughed, a little smug, but he cut off any further comment by gently pushing you down against the mattress, not saying a word more. He just stared down at you, almost too calm now, as if gathering himself. "You're not going anywhere today," he murmered firmly. "Not when you look like this."

You made no attempt to resist him.

daesung: juvenile embarrassment

You were lying in bed, stretched out in his oversized shirt and a tiny pair of shorts that you typically ended up wearing as pajamas. You are trying to act casual, stretching and yawning, but then you felt it—the weight of his gaze on you. You glanced over and saw him standing in the doorway, his eyes going wide as he took in the sight of you.

“Oh my god, you looks so cute!” He blurted out, his voice way too loud for this early in the morning. He was grinning like a schoolboy who had just gotten away with something, his eyes flicking from your legs to the shirt and back up to your face. His hands immediately going to his face like he was trying to compose himself. “No, no, this is not okay. I need you like this every day. You cannot keep doing this to me.”

Before you could even say anything, he made it over to you in two long strides, and lifted you off the bed and spun you around like a child. His hands gripped under your thighs tightly, but not in the way that was gentle. It was almost possessive—like he couldn't stand the thought of you not being this close. His breath was ragged against your neck, and you could feel his heartbeat in sync with yours.

“Okay, okay,” he rasped, but you can hear the raw desperation in his voice. “I need you to wear my shirt more often. Seriously. You look... like the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t even breathe properly.” He was laughing a little, but it was almost as if the humor is a cover for just how turned on he is. That was absolutely what it was.

You tried to pull away, but he was already dragging you back to the bed, not even giving you a chance to protest. “Nope,” he declared, grinning mischievously. “You’re not leaving this bed today. Nope, I’m keeping you right here. And don’t think you’re getting away with anything else either. We’re staying like this, just me and you, all day. Got it?” His eyes glinted with a cocky kind of possessiveness.

And as he laid you back into the bed, his hands gently ran over your shirt, you could feel just how badly he wanted you—but he was going to make sure he kept you close in every possible way.

hehehe these are sooo fun! if you have any scenario you’d like to see in a part 4, do let me know!

taglist (ask to be added): @petersasteria @floofeh-purpi @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @aizshallnotbefound @sherrayyyyy @ricecake9999 @leni111 @burlesquerade @scream-queen-25 @spiritualgirly444 @fairyprincesslvr21 @loonybunny1 @uuchii

[aizshallnotbefound]

Zenny's Masterlist━━━☆

REQUESTS : closed !

(I ONLY do social media au currently so feel free to request a scenario !!)

Currently writing for Bigbang only <3 ( GD , TOP , D-LITE)

G-DRAGON / KWON JIYONG

1 - 𝘚𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘶 — 𝘨-𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 ! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ~ 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 2𝘕𝘌1 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨

2 - 𝘚𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘶 — 𝘨-𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 ! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 spectulations about rumoured relationship

3 - 𝘚𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘶 — 𝘨-𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 ! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ~ 𝘣����𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 2𝘕𝘌1 and having an after party dinner with bigbang and getting caught being cozy with jiyong

4 - 𝘚𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘶 — 𝘨-𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 ! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ~ 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 2𝘕𝘌1 and having a photoshoot with vogue

5 - 𝘚𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘶 — 𝘨-𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 ! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ~ 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 2𝘕𝘌1 and having a pool party with bigbang

6 - your love is my favourite song - pt 1 Your love is my favourite song - pt 2 collab post with @mashtatosworld

7 - butterfly masterlist - collab smau mini series with @makeitworse

♪ ────── ──⊹⊱✫⊰⊹── ────── ♪

T.O.P / CHOI SEUNGHYUN

1 - 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 , 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯

♪ ────── ──⊹⊱✫⊰⊹── ────── ♪

D-LITE / DAESUNG

1 - 𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘹 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨 2 - 𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘹 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 , 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵

♪ ────── ──⊹⊱✫⊰⊹── ────── ♪

Taglist:

@sherrayyyyy , @ldydeath , @eru-vande , @tulentiy, @infinetlyforgotten , @gdinthehouseee , @mashtatosworld , @loveesiren @breakmeoff @kwomikailea @heartubeatusalon @sylviavf @flwerangii

♪ ────── ──⊹⊱✫⊰⊹── ────── ♪

[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😔😔😭😭😭

[saymonsays]

💭 this blog is 30% feelings, 70% BigBang thirst

‎‎✦ about me

‎hi! i’m simon ♡

‎i write fluff, smut, angst, and k-drama-style one shots for BIGBANG (mostly jiyong... yeah i said it).

‎you’ll find emotional damage, slow burn tension, and way too many internal monologues here.

‎

‎✦ navigation

‎📁 masterlist

‎🧠 tags to look for:

‎#bigbang fanfic | #kwon jiyong | #fluff | #smut | #angst | #oneshot | #highschool au

‎

‎✦ talk to me!

‎i love getting asks, messages, or completely unhinged rants about your bias.

‎let’s scream, cry, and spiral together ♡

‎✦ requests are open!

‎i love writing for:

‎✔ BIGBANG (any member, any era)

‎✔ fluff / angst / smut / oneshots / scenarios

‎✔ k-drama vibes, school AUs, slice of life, idol!verse

‎✔ your chaotic ideas, specific tropes, or “can you write where he...?”

‎

‎❌ what i don’t write:

‎🚫 incest, non-con, underage, weirdly specific foot things

‎🚫 super dark content with no emotional payoff

‎🚫 disrespectful asks (pls be nice ♡)

‎

‎send your requests to my inbox with as much or as little detail as you want! i’ll cry over them and get to writing 😭