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loveesiren · 4 months ago

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𝖢𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖯𝗍. 5)

Choi Seunghyun x f!reader x Kwon Jiyong | Masterlist

a/n: I told myself I'd rest tonight and not write but here we are. I also said I wouldn't ddrink but I did that too hahaha so enjoy I guess? I'll probably regret posting this in the morning. (As always, I'm using them as characters. I do not believe they are this way in real life) Watch me reread this in the morning and realize it's trash lol

summary: A vacation to Jeju island is a relieving break for most of you. Except Jiyong... (Idk why I even write summaries lol I suck at them.)

warnings: drunk editing and writing lol, language, smut, angst, Seungri is in this but he doesn't have a big part in the story, Jiyong being a dick kinda

wc: 3.2k+

A month later, life had settled into something that resembled normalcy. You and Seunghyun were still going strong, and work had never been better. Jiyong had slipped back into his usual rhythm, throwing his signature taunting jabs your way, his smirk sharp yet distant. You told yourself it was a good thing—that he was finally moving past it. That he had let you go.

And you were grateful for that.

Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

When you returned to the doctor, you didn’t hesitate. Birth control was non-negotiable. You refused to feel that kind of fear again—the heart-pounding, breath-stealing moment when you thought everything had changed. Still, a small, treacherous part of you had lingered on the idea of a future with Seunghyun. A family. A life. But you had locked those thoughts away, stuffing them into the back of your mind where they wouldn’t fester. Where they wouldn’t hurt.

You deserved this vacation. A chance to finally breathe, to let go. YG had planned an entire week-long getaway for BigBang and the staff to celebrate another successful year. Seven days in private villas on Jeju Island—sun, ocean, no stress. You were nothing but excited.

You had chosen to stay with Seunghyun, rather than with the girls, wanting to thank him for everything. For his patience. For his love. He had never been pushy—not after the abortion, not when you had shut yourself down for weeks, not when your smiles hadn’t quite reached your eyes. He had simply stayed, letting you come back to him in your own time.

And you had. Or at least, you were trying.

But Jiyong. Jiyong was a different story.

When you stepped onto the pristine sand, Seunghyun’s arm wrapped securely around your waist, a sharp gaze burned into your back. Jiyong’s.

“This is fucking amazing!” you cooed, eyes scanning the endless blue horizon. “What should we do first?!” The options sprawled in front of you—snorkeling, volleyball, drinks, a club, the ocean. It was overwhelming, but in the best way.

Seunghyun chuckled, nuzzling into your hair. “Let’s drop our stuff off first, then we can do whatever you want, baby.”

You turned to him, warmth bubbling in your chest at the way he carried both suitcases, your own completely forgotten. “EEEEEEP! I can’t wait to see the villa!”

Seunghyun’s laughter was soft, admiring, as he let you drag him forward.

Jiyong barely noticed the way his gaze followed you until Seungri’s palm clapped against his shoulder.

“Yeahhh, Hyung’s a lucky man,” Seungri murmured, watching the way your hips swayed, the way Seunghyun’s fingers dug possessively into your waist.

“Don’t look at her.” Jiyong’s voice was sharp, cutting him off and slamming the back of his hand into his chest.

Seungri winced, rubbing his chest where Jiyong had smacked him. But he didn’t argue, simply following his Hyung toward their shared villa.

You stepped onto the balcony, taking in the scenery around you. The salt in the air, the waves crashing against the sand. You were in paradise.

“What do you think, Jagi?” Seunghyun’s arms snaked around your waist, grounding you.

“This is unreal,” you admitted, melting into his embrace.

His lips pressed gently to your hair, lingering. “Can’t wait to spend this week with you.”

You turned in his arms, wrapping your hands around his neck, looking up at him—at the man who had loved you through every storm. “I love you.”

He didn’t hesitate. His lips met yours, soft at first, then deeper, desperate.

“I love you… so much…” he whispered against your mouth. His hands traced slow patterns over your hips, thumbs dipping beneath the fabric of your dress. “Y’look so pretty in the sun…”

A breath hitched in your throat. You wanted him. Needed him. But the sun was still high, and there was still dinner to attend.

Reluctantly, you pressed your palms against his chest, pushing him back just enough to break the moment. “We should get ready for dinner…”

His lips were slightly swollen, his eyes dark with something unreadable. But he nodded, taking a step back, running a hand through his hair as he composed himself.

You hesitated.

“Babe?”

He turned to you, brow lifting.

“Tonight?” you asked, voice teasing, but the invitation was clear.

Seunghyun grinned. Before you could react, he scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder, his grip firm on your thighs.

Your giggle rang out through the villa, light and free.

For the first time in months, you almost believed it.

Almost.

But outside, beyond the villa’s glass walls, standing at the shoreline with a cigarette between his lips, Jiyong watched.

And he still wasn’t moving past it.

The warm evening breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean as you and Seunghyun made your way down the moonlit beach. The silk of your sundress clung to your skin, shifting with every step as the fabric danced in the wind. His strong hand rested low on your hip, fingers tracing delicate circles through the thin fabric.

The sand was soft beneath your bare feet, and the rhythmic sound of the waves felt like a melody meant just for the two of you. Your long waves cascaded down your back, catching in the ocean breeze, golden strands glowing under the lantern lights that led to the dining area.

Jiyong sat in the distance, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers, the ember flaring with every deep drag. But his focus wasn’t on the ocean, nor the stars scattered across the sky.

It was on you.

His mind betrayed him, dragging him back to the nights he had you trembling beneath him, your body arching as he tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back to mark the delicate column of your throat. He could still hear your breathless moans, the soft whimpers you let out when he buried himself deep inside you, stretching you open, filling you completely.

God, he could almost feel you even now.

He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

Because now, you weren’t his.

Now, Seunghyun was the one whispering in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, his palm resting dangerously close to the curve of your ass. Seunghyun was the one earning that sweet little smile of yours—the one Jiyong used to chase.

He swallowed down the bitterness clawing up his throat and took his seat at the table. Directly across from you. He swallowed his pride.

Because as much as he wanted to take you right there in the sand, to remind you exactly how he used to fuck you so deep you forgot anyone else existed—he couldn't.

Because his best friend looked at you like you were his whole world.

And Jiyong couldn’t take that from him.

Dinner passed in a blur of laughter, drinks, and idle chatter. But Jiyong barely heard any of it. Not when Seunghyun’s hand slid higher on your thigh, his fingers disappearing beneath the fabric of your dress. Not when you leaned into his touch, the corners of your lips lifting just slightly as you nibbled your bottom lip.

Jiyong clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his drink. He forced himself to look away, to strike up a meaningless conversation with Seungri. Anything to distract himself.

But then—

“I love you too…”

Your voice was soft, but Jiyong heard it like a fucking gunshot.

His fingers twitched, but he didn’t move. Didn’t react.

Not on the outside. Inside, though? Inside, something snapped.

By the time dinner was over, your need for Seunghyun had reached a fever pitch. You barely made it back to the villa before your hands were on him, your lips crashing together in a desperate, feverish kiss.

The door shut behind you with a click, but you barely noticed.

Your fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head as his hands roamed your body, cupping your ass, squeezing your thighs, gripping you like he wanted to leave bruises.

The ocean breeze rolled in through the open porch doors, cool air ghosting over your flushed skin as Seunghyun backed you toward the bed.

His mouth was hot against your throat, nipping, licking, teasing. His hands made quick work of your dress, sliding the straps down your shoulders, letting the fabric pool at your feet.

You were already soaked, aching.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned, his fingers trailing between your legs, teasing the damp fabric of your panties. “You sure?”

You hummed, pressing a kiss against his jaw before stepping back. A playful smirk curled your lips as you pushed him onto the bed.

“Lay down,” you whispered.

His eyes darkened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he obeyed.

Your fingers worked quickly, unzipping his pants, yanking them down until his cock sprang free—thick, hard, already leaking precum.

You licked your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so big…” you murmured before taking him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his swollen tip, teasing him with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue.

Seunghyun groaned, his head falling back against the pillows, his fingers tangling into your hair as you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, letting him hit the back of your throat.

“Shit—baby—you—gah—” His voice was wrecked, strangled, his hips bucking ever so slightly as you swallowed around him.

His grip tightened, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he watched you take him, your nails digging into his thighs, urging him to let go.

And when he did—when his hot release spilled down your throat—you moaned, swallowing every last drop before pulling back with a soft pop.

Seunghyun’s chest heaved, his pupils blown wide as he gazed down at you—on your knees, his cum dripping from the corner of your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, already hard again. “Come here.”

You obeyed instantly, crawling up his body, pressing your lips to his, letting him taste himself on your tongue.

“You took your pill, right?” he murmured, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

“Mhmm.” You smirked, shifting so your soaked core rubbed against his cock. “I’m ready, Daddy. Fuck me…”

Seunghyun cursed, flipping you onto your back before positioning himself at your entrance. He guided you down onto him, stretching you inch by inch until you were completely full.

“Ah, fuck!” you gasped, your nails digging into his arms as your walls clenched around him.

“You okay, baby?” he rasped, voice strained, barely holding back from thrusting into you.

You nodded, adjusting, rolling your hips experimentally. The stretch burned—but god, it felt so fucking good.

“So big…” you whimpered.

Seunghyun groaned, grabbing your hips, rocking you against him, helping you move.

“How’s that feel, baby?”

All you could do was moan, barely able to form words. You were already a fucking mess.

“Fuck me, Seunghyun,” you finally panted, desperate.

That was all he needed.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest before thrusting up into you, hard and deep.

Your cries filled the villa, high-pitched and breathless, your fingers digging into his back as he fucked you relentlessly.

But what you didn’t know—

Was that Jiyong could hear you.

And see you.

From the beach, he sat in the perfect spot, half-hidden by the trees. The doors were open. The lights were on.

And there you were.

His best friend’s girl.

Getting fucked senseless.

By him.

Jiyong’s jaw tightened as he dragged a hand over his mouth. His cock throbbed against his jeans, aching.

Those pretty whimpers—he remembered them too well. The way your walls fluttered around him when he pushed you to the edge. The way you trembled when he whispered filthy things in your ear, coaxing you into another orgasm.

God, he missed it.

His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to look away.

But the moment he heard you cry out in pleasure, finally reaching your high. He knew that sound all too well. His control finally snapped.

He stubbed out his cigarette, pushing to his feet.

“Seungri,” he called, walking past the bonfire where his bandmates were gathered.

“Yeah, hyung?”

“Let’s go.”

Seungri blinked. “Go where?”

Jiyong’s expression was unreadable.

“To the club,” he muttered, his voice low, dangerous.

“Hyung, are you—”

“Let’s go,” Jiyong cut in.

And just like that, he disappeared into the night, the bass of the club calling him toward anything that would make him forget, Seungri following close behind him.

“Hyung, what happened?” Seungri slung an arm around Jiyong’s shoulders, his voice teetering between genuine concern and drunken curiosity. “Was it Y/n?”

Jiyong’s jaw clenched. “Shut up, Vi.” His voice was rough, laced with something dangerously close to pain.

Seungri knew better than to push. “Okay. Let’s get some alcohol in you.”

Jiyong didn’t argue.

The club was packed, pulsating with bodies, flashing lights, and the heavy bass of music that vibrated through the floor. The second they stepped inside, they were swallowed by the attention—swarms of women pressing against them, men watching from the sidelines with envy. Jiyong smirked, letting himself get lost in it.

This was who he was. G-Dragon. The icon. The king. The untouchable.

And for a moment, the ache inside him dulled under the weight of cheap validation.

Fans bought him shots, eager hands reached for him, and he let them. He let the alcohol burn down his throat, let himself be pulled onto the dance floor, let soft fingers trail over his skin. The scent of expensive perfume filled his lungs, the heat of bodies grinding against him, the hum of admiration—it was all familiar, all comforting.

For a while, it worked. He almost forgot about you.

Almost.

Until she appeared.

A girl—bright-eyed, breathless, her hands nervously fidgeting as she approached.

“Jiyong, can I—”

Fuck. His breath caught in his throat. She looked just like you.

The same soft waves in her hair, the same tilt of her chin, the same big, doe-like eyes that he had once memorized every detail of.

For a split second, his heart clenched.

And then, without thinking, he cut her off.

“You wanna come back to my place?” The words left his lips before he could regret them.

Her eyes widened, then sparkled with excitement. “I—yes!”

He threw an arm around her shoulders, steadying himself as the alcohol swam in his bloodstream. Before leaving, he cast one last glance toward the corner where Seungri was sitting comfortably, girls draped over him like ornaments.

Jiyong lifted his hand in a mock salute.

Seungri barely had time to raise a questioning brow before Jiyong was already stumbling out of the club with his makeshift version of you.

The walk back to the villa was unbearable.

She talked too much. Her voice was too high, too eager.

But Jiyong bit his tongue, letting the illusion settle. Letting himself pretend that the words spilling from her lips were yours.

For a fleeting second, he could almost imagine you scolding him, snapping at him for being reckless, for drinking too much, for dragging another random girl back with him like he hadn’t already been ruined by someone else.

That’s what really got him going.

That’s what made him grip her wrist a little tighter, pull her along a little faster.

Finally, he swiped his key card, the villa door swinging open as he all but stumbled inside.

“Are you okay?” she asked, a tinge of concern in her voice.

He exhaled sharply, blinking at her. He hated how wrong she sounded.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he muttered. Then, bluntly, “Do you wanna fuck around?”

Her breath hitched. “Oh my god… I get to fuck G-Dragon…”

He winced. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“God, shut up. Just come here.”

She obeyed instantly, falling to her knees in front of him.

His hands worked quickly, shoving his jeans down his hips. His cock was barely hard, his body fighting against him because she wasn’t you.

She hesitated only for a second before wrapping her lips around him, warm and wet.

Jiyong gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes.

He imagined your lips—so soft, so eager, the way you would look up at him through your lashes, that innocent yet filthy gleam in your eyes. He remembered the way you used to hollow your cheeks, the way you’d moan softly just to tease him, the way you’d take him all the way down until he couldn’t think straight.

He curled his fingers into her hair, gripping just tightly enough to push her deeper. She gagged slightly, but he didn’t care.

He wasn’t here for her.

His mind was a whirlwind of memories—your pretty whimpers, your swollen lips, your breath hitching as he whispered filthy things into your ear.

“God, fuck yes…” he groaned, his grip tightening as his cock finally hardened in her mouth.

But it still wasn’t enough. He needed more. He yanked her off him suddenly, barely looking at her.

“Do you want to fuck?” he asked, voice void of emotion.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please…”

“Get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

She scrambled to obey.

Jiyong turned toward the bedside table, grabbing his wallet. His fingers found the condom he kept tucked inside, his mind screaming at him—this isn’t her. This isn’t her. This isn’t her.

But if he let himself think about it for too long, he might lose this fragile illusion.

He rolled the condom on, positioning himself behind her.

And then—

He pushed in.

The sound she let out made him cringe.

Too high-pitched. Too fake. Too not you.

His stomach twisted.

His hand shot forward, covering her mouth before she could make another noise.

“Shhh.” His voice was a warning. A plea.

She muffled something against his palm, but he didn’t hear her. He was already far away—back inside his mind, back inside his memories.

His thoughts betrayed him, flashing with images of you tangled beneath him, moaning his name, dragging your nails down his back as he fucked you raw.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clinging to the image of you earlier that night—the way you had sounded, the way you had looked, getting fucked by Seunghyun like he was the only man in the world.

It should’ve been him.

“Fuck, Y/n…” The name left his lips in a groan, before he could stop it.

The girl stiffened beneath him.

“I’m not—” she started.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

And then, with a few more desperate thrusts, it was over.

Jiyong pulled out quickly, his chest heaving, his head a fucking mess.

He barely looked at her as he sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his damp hair.

“I didn’t even cum!” she whined, exasperated.

“I don’t care,” Jiyong bit out, his tone ice-cold.

She scoffed, gathering her things in a huff before stomping out of the villa.

The second the door slammed behind her, Jiyong exhaled sharply.

He ripped the condom off, tossing it into the trash.

Then, without another thought, he made his way to the bathroom.

He flipped on the shower. Running warm by the time he stepped in.

He pressed his palms against the cool tile, letting the water scald his skin, his head hanging forward.

No matter how hard he scrubbed, how hot the water ran—

He couldn’t wash you off of him.

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