#kwon jiyong smut

[jedisupernova]

falling for the mafia boss's son, kwon jiyong

notes minors dni contains fem reader, non idol au, always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the late 90s (hence the mention of certain technology or media,) mentions of smoking and drinking, reader and jiyong are both twenty-four, very much slice of life and dialogue heavy, very cute and banter-filled meeting!, jiyong being a flirt (or my attempt at writing flirting,) jiyong and reader are down bad (a lot of banter, her parents are on the stricter side; he has to sneak in) reader and jiyong being silly, yearning, angst (miscommunication, mentions of his hardships, he wants to protect reader from his life but to a fault, arguments, he shows up injured one night and you tend to his wounds YUPPPP, mention of insecurities, reader lowkey needs new friends), smut (keeping quiet, dry humping, oral f receiving, sub!jiyong, p in v, reader gives jiyong a pair of her panties,) and inevitable typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! its certainly is a 180 from the last jiyong fic i posted, but what is creativity without ambition! so here goes nothing! this is long. enjoy :)

the time on jiyong's watch read 9:13 pm, his eyes drifting to the summer night sky above. it was hot as fuck. the street lamp's fluorescent lighting flickered, making him blink increasingly harder, distracting him from properly inhaling the lit cigarette between his lips—unceremoniously landing a bead of sweat initially perspiring from his temple into his eye. "shit." his mutter disappeared into the commotion of whatever his friends were going back and forth over. last he checked, it was something about someone's car, or some movie, but the other side of his brain just processed technotronic coming from the house the party they were all invited to tonight was in. jiyong took his cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, using his other hand to rub his bothered eye. neither of his friends took notice, enwrapped in conversation, taking drags of the cigarettes they bummed off jiyong after parking the car some ten minutes ago. a long, defeated breath deflated his chest. "hot as shit, bro—god damn." that earned him concurring nods, their gazes following him to the house peeking over the wooden fence behind them. jiyong wiped his forehead, kissing his teeth disapprovingly; the back of his hand glistened with sweat. he took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it onto the sidewalk and putting it out with his sneaker. "place better have some fucking ac," he said, turning to his friends. "you ready to head in? alright, lets go."

to his joy, there was air conditioning! and not many people were in the house, so he could actually feel it! hallelujah! he sunk into the couch like it was nobody's business after making himself a drink, laying his head back, letting the rum and coke glide down his throat with a satisfied huff. he mouthed the few lyrics he knew to the music playing from the backyard, trailing into the house from the partially-open sliding door. jiyong's eyes opened at the sound of loud footsteps clambering down the stairs, catching glimpses of a friend group walking down the hall leading through the kitchen and into the backyard. he planned on joining whatever was going on out there later in the night—his friends did so immediately after getting their drinks—but for now, he minded his own. he liked parties, and went to most that he was invited to—unless his father had something to say about it, of course—but his social battery didn't sustain for long. he liked the quiet, or at least as quiet as it could get; settling with himself for the time being.

a while after finishing his drink, he went searching for a bathroom. the one on the first floor was occupied, so he headed upstairs; he's been here before, specifically the barbecue that happened a few weeks ago to usher in summertime. it felt humid upstairs with the window behind the landing wide open, laughter from below mixing in with the speaker sounding like it was on its last breath every time the bass kicked in. just as jiyong raised his knuckles to knock, the door swung open, catching him off guard but startling you entirely. "oh my god." you placed a hand over your heart, eyes closed. jiyong didn't know what to do in those passing couple seconds—his hand was still in the air. you smiled, amused at yourself. "didn't expect that," you muttered to yourself, opening your eyes. "my bad—here you go."

you stepped to the left to make room for him to enter and you exit, but he happened to step the same direction with similar intention. an upside down grin molded your face, hearing him awkwardly chuckle. "stay there." the sound of your warm giggle drizzled over his ears like honey, making him perk up and pay the fuck attention. jiyong's eyes followed you whilst you walked by his right. his feet moved before he knew it, his head looking away when you turned to look at him. in those three seconds, a whirlwind of thoughts ran through either of you. for jiyong, it was she's fine as hell; the image of you in your shirt and denim shorts lingering in his mind for as long as he wanted, topped by the sound of your clipped voice fading with each passing moment since he heard so little.

for you, it was the slight furrow of your eyebrows whilst you descended down the stairs: was that who she was talking about? you wondered—thinking back to the pregame at your friend's house earlier in the evening. rumors had floated around about ju . . . was it—no, its ji. jiyong? yeah, that—about jiyong's family, more-so his father, but no one ever had the gall to ask him. did they just not want to be caught in their own bluff, or afraid of unleashing a weapon-bearing fight if they properly dared mention it to him? no one knows, nor was willing to attempt. your city wasn't necessarily small, but it also wasn't large enough for anyone to fall through the cracks. you could pinpoint countless times throughout the years where you overheard speculations of his family's true source of income whilst in line at the local donut shop on sunday mornings, or his supposed home life becoming the topic of discussion at the sleepover once the clock hit two in the morning—but actually coming across him? perhaps a few times at the grocery store, fleetingly at parties, seeing him walking up the block with his friends, or in his car waiting for the traffic light to turn green—like any other neighbor.

you tsked to yourself, remembering something else from the pregame: "i heard he's been getting a lot of tattoos lately." a friend said after someone else brought up the rumor he'd be at the same party you were all going to, pouring the group shots—nothing was left in the house after scrounging the last few pours of cuervo tequila, so you all made due with the singular zima found in the fridge. you never liked the beer alternative, so on top of holding your miniature glass with a slight grimace, her baseless observation just deepened it: "you think that has anything to do with . . . you know . . . his family?" what did that have to do with anything? people have tattoos for whatever reasons . . . not to fit some aimless narrative. now that the anecdote came back, you do remember seeing a pair of detailed wings tattooed on the back of his neck—so he had to be the, for lack of a better term, infamous jiyong. unless there was someone else with the same name? you thought, until you realized how stupid you sounded. that was him, and that was it.

jiyong made his way outside, shouting over the music for his friends to hear him. it was relatively crowded. partygoers were dispersed all throughout the yard—some roasting s'mores by the small fire pit on the corner of the tiled pavement leading into the grass, others bickering over the party mixtape, and many either cheersing or throwing out their red solo cups for new ones. jiyong spotted you on the other side of the yard, talking to a friend whilst sat in the patio swing. his attention left his own friends, inner monologue drowning them out: move, motherfucker. that person must have heard him via some inter-dimensional force. though he couldn't overhear, your friend excused herself to get some snacks from the kitchen, leaving you temporarily on your own—but not if he had anything to say about it. he left his friends wordlessly mid conversation, making his way over. jiyong didn't think ahead much and acted more-so on autopilot, nearly stopping in his tracks when you looked up from your seat.

"did you wanna sit here?" the nicety slipped out before you could stop yourself, gesturing to the empty seat, halfway to standing on your feet. "i can move." "no, its okay." jiyong shook his head. it clicked for you: oh wow. its him, again. "i can—i'll just. . ." jiyong cut himself off by sitting down. it took a moment for you to process what was happening. "oh," an upside down grin tugged at your mouth. "alright." you sat down, inadvertently copying the direction of his gaze watching the party before you, lingering in one another's peripheries. your friend returned outside, equipped with a small plastic bowl of mini pretzels and potato chips, nearly dropping it upon seeing who took her spot. she scurried to the other side of the yard as fast as her flip flops would let her, grabbing the shoulder of whomever in your friend group that was in her nearest reach; scrambling to find the words, only able to point hurriedly in your direction.

whilst their mouths fell agape, yours remained closed. you glanced at him from the side, fingers toying with the bottom hem of your shirt. jiyong crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes remaining ahead; unsure of what to say but sure of his decision to come to you. albeit . . . he felt a little stupid. he was usually quite smooth with it, and if he was awkward, there was an indescribable charm coupled with it. he wasn't necessarily at a loss for words (at least that's what he told himself,) but it was one of those times where he acted before thinking it through—hence the silence. you turned your head fully to look at him. "is there something you wanted to bring up?" "hm?" he was caught off guard, turning his head towards you. jiyong jutted his bottom lip, shaking his head. "no. why?" you shrugged your shoulders. "people don't usually follow the person they ran into in the bathroom, let alone sit next to them." "i didn't follow you." jiyong countered. "we're at the same party." "okay. you tracked me down, then." "tracked you down?" his furrowed eyebrows amused you, seeing him fall into your unserious trap. "what're you talking about? we're at the same party." he repeated, a little defensive.

you shrugged your shoulders again. "i don't know. seems kind of fishy." "what does?" "this." "how? i'm just sitting here." "next to someone you don't know." "so?" "people don't just do that. even when they're at the same party." "they do." jiyong wanted to win. win what? he didn't know. "they do when they're—when they're . . ." he cut himself off, growing embarrassed. "when they're what?" you asked. jiyong swallowed, adjusting his posture. "when—when they're. . ." he hated that he started to build a sweat, and the humid night air wasn't to blame. "when the other person's really, uh—really pretty." you looked at him. he didn't dare look at you. a big smile unraveled across your face. "all of that," you said. "just for you to be cheesy as fuck." jiyong didn't expect to laugh as hard as he did, let alone his hand that shot up to his mouth, clutching his lips to hold it on—until he glanced at you and caught your eyes on him, the both of you losing it.

"oh god." jiyong hid his face behind his palms. "was it really that bad?" he asked, opening a gap between his pointer and middle fingers, peering up at you. "don't try to save face with that cute shit." you dismissed. "you think i'm cute?" his hands slid back down, a knowing smile on his face. "that's—that's not what i was trying to—" you stumbled on your words. he nodded along, eyebrows slightly furrowed in faux-thought. "oh, okay," he barely hid his grin; now we're back on track, he thought to himself. "what were you trying to say, then? hm?" "go away." you told him, turning away, arms crossed over your chest whilst his eyes stayed on you. "if really you don't like it, you can get up yourself." "no, because i asked you first. and you're the one who came over here." "i don't see you leaving." jiyong said. you let out a breath, admittedly defeated. a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, turning into a full-blown smile when seeing your hand make a talking gesture—the same one waving him off with a small scoff.

jiyong noticed how you both sat with your arms over your chest, finding it endearing. his eyes fell to his knee, mere centimeters away from yours. if only i just sat a little closer. "you're funny." he said, eyes on your knee. "i like that." your hand slipped from underneath your arm, coming up to fan your face. "did you hear me ask what you liked?" this bickering feels like we've been married for decades, his inner monologue voiced. jiyong leaned towards you a little, his movement earning your eyes. "i like a challenge." his voice was smooth, getting his edge back. until you humbled him in a way eliciting whiplash: "that didn't land in the way you thought it would." jiyong let out a breath, eyes closing as he sat back in defeat. "you have me spent." "you've barely tried." you retorted, an upside down grin on your face as you looked down at your lap.

jiyong's eyes opened, sitting up, stretching his arm out before him. "i came all the way over here to talk to you!" he exclaimed, defending himself. "i've been trying!" "so you didn't just come here to rest that pretty head of yours?" your flirting flew right past his senses, jiyong prioritizing the bickering: "this is going nowhere." he crossed his arms over his chest begrudgingly. "it is," you corrected him. "you're just being dramatic for no reason." "i'm not being—" he was about to argue, until your words sunk into his psyche. "oh—it is?" you nodded, cheeks warming, pad of your ring finger wiping the built-up sweat off the side of your nose. it took a moment before jiyong said something: "what worked?" he asked. you shrugged your shoulders yet again, pondering in thought, though you had the answer. "you're funny." jiyong tsked, hiding his sheepish grin by turning his head the opposite direction. "it was fuckin' stupid when i said that." he said, still loud enough for you to hear over the music playing some twenty or so feet away. "it wasn't." you said. "it was cute."

jiyong looked at you; ego boosted, but his smile and raised eyebrow reflected his heart doubling in size. "so you do think i'm cute?" "i owe you after you admitted you came over here to talk to me. even if it was apparent from the beginning." that last part was half-bluff—you weren't completely sure, a bit taken aback when he first approached and sat down. you didn't know where this was going to go, but when it did take off, you would be remised not to have some fun. jiyong was sweet; quickly introducing himself as a witty conversationalist whom both matched your energy and kept you on your toes. his banter was fruitful and his clever use of profanity even more so—like the anecdote of when some guy gave him senseless trouble outside of his cousin's birthday dinner a couple years ago: "i told him that i am indeed the type. the fuck i was, the fuck i am, the fuck i will be." "i can't lie, jiyong. you curse pretty good." or when you told him about the argument that broke out between your friends over what movie to rent from blockbuster last weekend: "its not my fault that i didn't want to waste my time when i've been begging to what feels like a brick wall for months to see angelina jolie in 'gia.' i'm not sorry." "fuck no—and you shouldn't be."

jiyong looked like any other twenty something year old—hiding awkward tendencies behind a charming yet nervous chuckle, or going off on an unbridged tangent about a tv show he likes because he wants to fill the silence; keeping a pretty girl like you tethered to him by any means he could think of. but if anyone looked close enough (and you did, because he was fine), they would find something off about his ensemble of a loose-fitting graphic tee, scuffed sneakers, and basketball shorts paired with hair that looked fresh despite his dried sweat; side taper half-hidden underneath the hair that fell so effortlessly into his comma cut—a little too fresh. or perhaps the most perplexing clue of all: the two-toned watch that fell up and down his wrist whenever he moved his arm. you didn't know much about being rich, or differentiating fake luxury items from the real deal, but how the band of the watch molded against his wrist like it was part of him, and the dial that stared you down whenever he fixed his hair, told you he didn't mess around.

his eyes softened whenever your hand came up to fan your face or swat away gnats, noticing the slight sheen glazing your nose and forehead with a small grin on his face. you looked beautiful. the fact that you gave him the time of day was attractive enough—you didn't need to go out of your way to re-adjust your posture, making your plush thighs rub against the swing's cushioned seats in a way that stole his common sense, or your laughter making his eyes kiss in their corners, his right hand gripping the arm rest to keep his balance. jiyong didn't keep track of the time, so when his friends came over—one who perhaps had one too many, and the other with his arm slung around his shoulders—saying it was a good time to get out of there, he thought quickly on his feet: "its all good, man. i'll—i'll meet you at the car in, like, five minutes."

jiyong stood up, you mimicking his movements without thinking. "do you have a mobile?" he asked you. "no," you shook your head with an iota of irrational shame. "was—was never able to afford one." you let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "its all good." jiyong assured. "whats your home phone? i'll call you." your eyes widened, shaking your head with an added sense of urgency: "my—my parents would never." "oh, okay. i got you." he nodded, understanding. the grin on his face was knowing and a bit cocky, taking a step closer to you. "what should we do then, hm? i'm not leaving here without an answer, y'know." "what about your friend?" "don't worry about him." jiyong said softly, subtly shaking his head. "he could hurl all over the street—like i give a fuck. i'm only here for you." you tsked, looking away to thwart the flustered feeling creeping up your neck. jiyong put his hands in his pockets, grinning when you spoke: "you really need to stop with this cute shit, jiyong." "i don't see you walking away, now do i?" he quipped, chuckling when you nudged his shoulder. he liked this feeling. "cmon," he gestured with his head. "i know you got something. tell me."

you looked at him after a moment. "you're lucky i have the day off tomorrow." "i do consider myself the richest man in the world." "oh my god, fuck off!" your exclaim slipped into clipped laughter, in disbelief over his commitment to the bit. "i'll give you my home phone. but you can only call at specific times, and when i tell you to." "i'll make anything work for you." you scoffed, only deepening his upside down grin. "you're not getting any reactions out of me anymore." you said, only to stumble on your words when he jutted out his bottom lip. "come with—come to the kitchen. i'll find a napkin to write it down, or some shit." and call jiyong did—at noon, just like you told him after scribbling your number down with a bic pen on its last few drops of ink. it was about ten minutes after your parents left the apartment to make the weekly grocery run, strategically landing you at home to finish washing the dishes from breakfast. you dropped the sudsy pan into the sink without second thought when the phone rang, hastily wiping your rinsed hands on your shirt, dashing behind the counter and to the living room.

"hello?" "sorry i'm late—had to get away from my parents." jiyong laid more comfortably in his bed, foot shoving a stray sock off his comforter; the rustling transferring from his nokia. you looked over your shoulder at the analog clock hanging next to a framed family photo, seeing it was barely past 12:01. "you're actually quite punctual." you told him. "you sound surprised." he said. "can you blame me? you're a man." "not just any man—" "—its only been, like, ten seconds," you cut him off, sitting down on the couch. "don't make me already contemplate hanging up." jiyong smiled wide. "you're sharp." he said. "i like that." "in the twelve hours that we've known each other, i don't think i've ever asked what you like. and i don't plan on it." "i think you're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because i like you." he let out a satisfied huff hearing you scoff. "plus, i think we've known each other for more than twelve hours. i've seen you before. the grocery store, maybe? i knew you looked familiar—think i finally placed you." he tried to play it cool, though he knew the answer.

"most likely, yeah." you nodded despite him not being able to see, your other hand twirling the phone cord between your fingers. did he think about me last night? "i've been working there part-time for a while. its been hard finding a full-time gig, as embarrassing as it feels to be two years post-grad." "i don't think you should feel bad. its hard out here." said jiyong, sincerity coming through the grainy audio. "i mean, i went to columbia, but you don't see me in a suit with a briefcase and shit." "hold on," you waved your hand. "you can't just be the most random person i've ever met." "what do you mean?" "i went to a nobody-knows community college that i'm sure will be caught in a class action lawsuit for money laundering in ten years time, but i'm just sat here talking to a scholar?" jiyong chuckled, running his hand over his warming face. "i'm not a scholar, i'll tell you that much." he toyed with a loose thread on his comforter—memories of his father repeatedly reeling how much he poured into his spot at the university flashing in his head, beckoned away with a small, defiant flick of his head.

you brought him back down to earth: "i'm gonna go get my thesaurus." he kissed his teeth disapprovingly, pout evident in his voice. "like the fuck you are. stay on the phone." he panicked slightly at the prolonged (it was five seconds) silence from your end of the line. "please?" you grinned. "you're really cheesy." you teased. "how is talking to a fine ass woman fuckin' cheesy?" "you can't just say shit like that casually, jiyong." "well, i will. hear me loud and clear." he cleared his throat into the receiver, catching you off guard, holding back your laughter. "you're fine as hell. do i need to keep saying it?" "maybe." "are you free for dinner tonight? i'll tell you in person." "maybe." "what'll convince you?" you said the first thing you thought of: "if you wear that watch of yours again." jiyong smiled, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "you like the finer things in life. don't you, baby?" he said smoothly. your cheeks felt warmer by the second, unsure of what you just started. "its hard to take you seriously when i can hear that smug grin on your face." you responded, voice akin to velvet despite the crackles over the line. "you already know me so well." jiyong's fingers toyed with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "m'starting to think we're meant to be. that doesn't sound corny, does it?"

"i'm relieved you're able to pinpoint that yourself now." you heard him chuckle. "and, no. it doesn't for once. you can be sweet when you want to be." "i can be good." he told you earnestly. "i can be really good, you know." "i believe you." you told him. "i hear it in your voice." a beat went by. "you know," said jiyong. "i didn't think you were capable of being nice." "don't be a dumbass right now, jiyong. this was such a good moment." you couldn't stop the grin stretching your mouth hearing him burst into laughter. "you're goofy as fuck, boy. oh my goodness." you giggled, running a hand over your face. "okay—okay, stop laughing. do you know where we're going for dinner? because i've long thought of what i'm going to say to get out tonight." jiyong got serious real quick. "oh shit—damn, okay. let me think." he cleared his throat. "there's this—there's this place i know by the rec center that has really good subs. does that sound—" "—fine by me." you didn't give a fuck what you ate. you just wanted to see him. "okay. okay, cool." jiyong nodded, licking his lips in thought. "you wanna meet there? or i could—i could come pick you up, if thats okay. i know we just met and all. and your parents might not be the most . . ." you waited for his choice of word. he didn't disappoint. "enthusiastic."

you let out a laugh. "you're right." you said. "you can pick me up from one block over." "whatever works for you works for me." "i can't lie to you, jiyong," you said. he hasn't sure where this was going. "but i really like the sound of that." jiyong took his ear off his phone, turning his head the opposite direction on his pillow, silently screaming into his palm. i hit the jackpot! i hit the fucking jackpot! his inner monologue rejoiced. he quickly brought the phone back to his ear: "you do?" "mhm." the sound of your voice made him kick at nothing, covering his face from no one. "i do, jiyong." "oh my god." he muttered. "i think i love you." you scoffed, unable to thwart your grin or increasingly flustered state. "what's my favorite fucking color, jiyong?" "i still think i love you," he avoided the question. "i'll know by the end of tonight, anyway." "i don't even want to ask if you're referring to my favorite color or whether you love me because you're starting to get on my nerves." "is it the right one?" "jiyong." "at least tell me if its the right one. look, i'll be honest and tell you that i'm just really happy i sat next to you last night." a moment went by before you spoke. "i am too." you said honestly. "and yes. it was the right nerve." jiyong buried himself behind his palm. "tell me where i should pick you up from. i can be there at seven."

it wasn't long before you started sneaking him in. up the fire escape that conveniently lead into your bedroom on the second floor of the apartment building you've lived in your entire life—it was a no brainer. it also wasn't long before jiyong got you a pager and mobile phone to go with it. to use at your own leisure, of course, but also already programmed with speed dial: "just press eight and i'll pick up anytime." "anytime?" "anytime, baby." "even when you're on the shitter?" "now that you mention it, yes. even when i'm on the shitter." jiyong came at ten pm on the dot on nights you gave him the green light. those first few times, it often began with the two of you bickering in hushed whispers when he didn't lift his leg high enough to climb over the windowsill, losing his balance and leading his foot to come clambering down, echoing off the steel grates.

you looked at each other in silent panic, his eyes dashing to your door behind you; both listening for footsteps, his shoulders sinking in relief when nothing followed, only to straighten back up when you smacked his shoulder. "get it the fuck together!" you whisper-yelled. "do you want my parents to wake up!?" "alright, alright—damn!" jiyong tsked, clearly annoyed, but his voice remained quiet. "its not my fault the developer built this shit higher than a fucking city skyscraper!" "use your nimble legs, they usually get you far enough." "i don't have nimble—" "—its a compliment, jiyong." "i don't have time for fuckin' riddles. give me your shoulder—it'll help me balance." he beckoned you over, hearing you huff. you stepped forward, feeling his palm secure your left shoulder. you leaned in as he prepared to attempt to climb in again, hand on his other cheek, bringing his closest to your lips. "you whiny baby." you whispered. "you making fun of me isn't helping either of us." "that wasn't me making fun of you." "you know what—i can just head home." he gestured behind him. "my car is right across the street." you looked him in the eyes, waiting for a moment or two. "i don't see you leaving, jiyong." "well, i was just—" "—get inside before i close the window."

he watched you like you just did him. "right—goodnight." you reached up to pull the window down. jiyong scrambled; "wait, no—shit! wait!" he reached up and tousled his hands with yours, either of your fingers clumped together. his face was directly in front of yours, looking into your eyes. a small, please-forgive-me grin stretched his mouth. "you look really pretty." he whispered sweetly. "just shut up and get inside." you stepped aside, feeling his hand on your shoulder. he climbed in successfully, arms making residence around your waist in no time, bringing you in for a kiss. "you're lucky i like you." he whispered hurriedly with intent, quickly reconnecting your lips. "excuse me?" you felt him giggle against your lips. "its—its the other way around. have to deal with your goofy shit all the time." "but you like it, right? because you like me." his arms pulled you closer to him, your supple cheek squishing against his lips. "right?" he kissed harder, your failed attempt at acting annoyed manifesting in a curt tsk. jiyong was in his own world: "right, my pretty girl?" "i wanna say no just to fuck with you." jiyong abruptly stopped, sinking his face into your neck. "i like hugging you." he murmured. "i think you just like annoying me." his giggle was your answer, feeling a chaste kiss pressed dotingly onto your neck when your hands traveled up his back and into his hair. "you're a pain in the ass."

jiyong was someone who knew what he wanted. so when he asked to be official after your second date, you were surprised and even let out a small laugh, thinking he was playing—but he was dead serious: "you've known me for less than a week, jiyong." you said from his passenger's seat. his gaze left your apartment building a block down and returned to you, shrugging his shoulders. "i mean, sure—yeah." he concurred, wiping the sweat off his forehead. the mechanic still didn't fix his ac right. "but i'd say i've known you long enough to know that i want you." he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was. why waste time, especially when you know the other person feels the same? warmth mounted your cheeks, averting your gaze to the center console. "can i think about it?" you asked. jiyong grinned, eyes momentarily watching your fingers glide against the leather lining of the console, avoiding the urge to hold your hand by tapping his own against the steering wheel. "yeah," he responded gently. "but i already kinda know what the answer is." "no you don't." you tried to quip, your quiet voice a giveaway. "did you not say yes to getting ice cream tomorrow? at the pier? maybe i misheard—" "—you didn't, ji."

he smiled. "good. thats good." he spoke softly. he faced you, eyes fluttering down before taking your hand in his. he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss. he turned to your palm, mouth molding against the clammy skin before making his way down to your wrist. his eyes opened when your nerves acted before you could think, wordlessly calling him over to you when your palm now rested against his cheek. jiyong moved without an iota of hesitation, leaning over the center console. his eyes looked into yours with a look of can i?, voice unexpectedly barely moving a morsel above a whisper. "can i kiss—" "—yes. come here." he didn't need to be told twice, closing that gap damn near immediately. your hands held his face when he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss. his lips felt soft albeit somewhat chapped, molding against your lips in a way that made a shaky breath exit your nostrils; his hand trailing up your thigh.

"jesus—fuck." you were startled by someone lugging their garbage into the dumpster a few feet away from the car, a hand coming up to your chest as jiyong cursed under his breath. he looked over your shoulder, eyes narrowing at the unsuspecting stranger. his attention returned to you upon feeling your fingers toy with the collar of his graphic tee. jiyong leaned in, the chaste kiss sweet. "my answer's yes." you muttered against his lips. "that's news to no one, baby." his hand rested atop your thigh, thumb tracing your plush skin. "at least act surprised," you tutted, holding his face in your hands, amused at his lips being half-puckered; clearly expecting another kiss. "i have a reputation to uphold." he smiled, not hiding his chuckle, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "what—for who?" you tried to come up with something witty, but each passing second prevented anything from landing correctly. you shrugged your shoulders, playfully defeated. "i can't lie to you—i've heard them say that in movies, and it always sounded really cool." he erupted into colorful laughter, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you caught him, unable to hold your own giggles back.

nights in your bedroom were spent underneath your duvet; recounting your days to each other in hushed whispers, making plans for future dates after swiping that day's newspaper from the kitchen counter—"'eyes wide shut' is still playing? seunghyun mentioned wanting to see it recently, i think. i think he went the other day." "tom cruise kind of freaks me out. what about 'but i'm a cheerleader,' tomorrow at 7:15? i heard its good fun.", giggling in between sweet kisses, or attempting to stay quiet if things got heated. whether it was you unbuttoning his jeans or his hand slipping past the hem of your underwear, either of your free hands was covering the other's mouth. jiyong's mewls were muffled behind your palm as your fist pumped his hardened cock— incessant ruffling of his briefs against your hand hidden behind the innocent creak of the bed when you turned onto your back to spread your thighs further, giving his thumb enough leverage to nurse your clit. his body followed your movements without hesitation, laying on his side, bottom lip caught between his teeth at how your t-shirt bunched up in the space between the bottom of your back and the top of your ass—breathing heavily into your palm.

it was easy to tuck him underneath your shirt when he made love to those perky nipples, relishing in the sound of your sharp breath after the chill of his watch band pressed against the warm, bouncy skin of your right breast, his tongue tending to the left. his ministrations were experienced, but how his hand trailed up and down your side, squeezing and rubbing your hip dotingly felt personal. or the way he hummed to himself in satisfaction from time to time, muttering whispers of "one and only," and "how can you be so fucking hot." he didn't give a fuck that his lips were begging for some vaseline, or that his jaw was feeling increasingly tighter—your breathy "jiyong, baby . . ." was all he needed to hear to keep going. even better if you arched your back, squishing his nose against your chest whilst his re-adjusting his posture stretches out the shirt you slept in. he moved to your right breast, encircling your areola before capturing it between his lips. he moved to lay atop you, waist between your thighs.

you felt his bulge against you. "you know whats f-f—mmph!—funny?" you whispered. "hm?" jiyong hummed. "you're in the perfect p-position t-to—s-shit—to f-fuck me if you wanted to." "don't put that idea into my head," jiyong whispered quickly, popping sotly off of your nipple. "you don't know how long i've been thinking about that." "there's no way we'd stay quiet enough, s-so forget 'b-bout it—least for now—shit!" your hand shot up, covering your mouth as the warmth of his tongue made your eyes roll back. "s-show me." it was hard to clarify with how scattered your mind was at the moment. "p-pretend to—i can feel you—j-ji, baby." you cut yourself off, thinking it was useless to try to compose yourself; thoughts coming out fragmented. he got the message, though—practically shoving of his cock caged in his briefs against your clothed pussy, moving his hips against yours. you let out a small gasp, back arching. jiyong collided his hips harshly with yours, feeling your thighs jiggle and a sound of surprise from your lips. "damn! go slow!" you exclaimed in a whisper, amused smile evident in your tone.

he did it again, eliciting a peculiar small grunt from his forcibly-muted efforts, amusing you further. "i get you that hot and bothered, huh?" "you have no fucking i-idea—f-fuck." he came to a halt, catching his breath, feeling how desperate his dick was between his fucking temples. "if you act up like this," you said. "then there's no way we can fuck here." "no—i'll behave myself." he hurriedly assured, making you grin. "i'll behave, baby. i will. holy fuck—its hot under here." jiyong carefully slid out from underneath your shirt, gradually standing on his knees on the bed. he let out a breath, wiping his cheeks and forehead with the back of his hand. "like i was saying," he let out a breath. "i'll behave—" "you're ridiculous." you cut him off. jiyong looked down at you, seeing you propped up on your elbows. "what?" "since when did you rival fedex?" "what?" he repeated, confused—until he followed your gaze; so hard, and with how the fabric of his briefs looked, it was as if his dick doubled in size.

he bit at corner of his bottom lip, hands on his hips. "i mean—" he began. "you asked me to show you, so here you go." you tsked, raising your leg, nudging his shoulder with the ball of your right foot. he caught your ankle, pressing a kiss before letting your leg go. you propped your feet against the bed, knees together in the air. "nah—open 'em." he tutted softly. "gonna have a taste before i leave. make you feel real fuckin' good." and he fucking did—face sunken into your cunt, his tongue going back and forth between nursing your clit and hole; hands atop your thighs, holding them in place. he heard your whimpers, as muffled as they were, even through the erratic meshing of your plush skin against his ears. your other hand sunk into his hair before having to use both to cover your mouth once that knot began to form in your abdomen. "j-jiyong!" your ghost of a whisper penetrated his senses. his response manifested in one arm slung over your stomach, his other hand trailing past your stretch marks, reaching for the closest breast and kneading it in his palm; humming in content against your slick pussy.

you and jiyong lived in your own world those first few months. neither of your respective friends knew—not because it was hidden on purpose or anything, but jiyong was too busy running red lights to come see you, and you were occupied with thinking of a slick way to end a phone call after hearing the pager beep in your nightside table drawer. though there wasn't verbal confirmation until later, there were definite signs: a particularly blunt friend pointing something out when you got to lunch ten minutes late ("there's something different about you, but i can't place it—" "—she smells like sex. also has the glow." "hey! no i don't!"); jiyong thinking his bucket hat would deter attention from the mostly-faded-but-still-noticeable hickey on his neck, only for seunghyun to point it out the moment he got in his car to head to the mall ("that goofy hat isn't doing shit." "she calls me that, too." "it takes nothing to get everything out of you, ji."); when you were too quick to leave a night out, saying you'd take public transit home, ultimately leading you to be cornered by the same friend, strategically pulled you into her car away from the others ("be for real. are you seeing someone?" "we're still—" "—okay, so you are. who is it? don't tell me its that co-worker that ate the—what was it? expired tuna? willingly?" "i'm offended that you think i would ever consider that. we met at a party, anyway—" "jiyong!? oh my god! oh my god!" "how did you—" "—i saw you two on that swing, but i didn't think—oh my god! tell me everything!" "only if you let me get a fucking word in—holy shit!"); to jiyong straight up telling seunghyun "i can't tonight, man. m'seeing my girl." to which his best friend responded "she rang me up the other day at the market, but i don't think she knew who i was. you need to fix that."

things took a turn the night your parents were out at a co-worker's wedding. they left at eight, not expected to be back until well past midnight. jiyong was in your bedroom no later than 8:10, shoes kicked off, hand comfortably behind his head, slumped against the pillow next to yours in bed. perhaps it was the fact you two were truly alone for the first time with your parents gone and window closed—for once not at the ready to dash out if footsteps erupted down the hall—that the conversation trickled elsewhere. something about these last few months was just something different for jiyong . . . he felt connected. safe. most importantly, trusted. you felt cared for, desired, and seen. it showed in those lingering stares; the air just feeling right whenever you two are together; his hand ghosting past yours before working up the courage to hold it in a way that always granted him that shy grin of yours; your cheeks brushing against one another's when you're looking at the same thing . . . the list was endless. something just—it just clicked. the question of are we moving too quickly? pestered at the back of either of your minds . . . but one look, and the puzzle was completed. the answer clear. any doubts eradicated.

trust was in bloom, and so was his willingness to be vulnerable. when it occurred, you shut the fuck up, putting your own shock aside: "my parents have never been the type—nah." jiyong chuckled. it was after some anecdote you brought up from middle school about parent-teacher conferences—specifically how you were outed for having a failing grade in chemistry. "my mom went to those things, but my dad—its like you'd have to drag him there. he was always busy, or some shit." you hummed, reaching over and softly grazing your finger against his forehead, fixing a fallen strand. it wasn't intended, but jiyong took the gentle gesture as a means of saying you can tell me anything. his eyes flickered to the linen before fully turning onto his side, directly facing you. he avoided the stirring turmoil in his chest, bringing his pointer finger to your bottom lip, pulling it down and letting go; chuckling at the small plop it made against your top lip, endeared by your playful scoff.

"listen, uh—" he began. "i know people—people talk. about my . . . about my family, or whatever. about my dad, specifically." he rubbed his eye, avoiding looking at you. "he does work, uh . . . he does work—he works underground—" "—jiyong, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." you told him, seeing the strain on his face. "no," he shook his head. "i want to. i mean—if i can find the fucking words." he let out a curt chuckle, frustrated with himself. he took a breath, still not looking at your eyes, but the bottom hem of your shirt. "i guess i—" he huffed. "i guess i always kinda knew something was different. like, my 'uncles' weren't my uncles. well, two of them are. but most aren't." you listened carefully, cheek rubbing against the pillowcase when you nodded. "it was a feeling, i guess? and then in sixth grade it was like . . . my frontal lobe developed. that's real fucking early, i know, but i don't know how else to describe it. everything just—it just made sense."

jiyong finally looked up. your expression was unreadable, but you didn't look scared. or intimidated. so that was a good sign. "i'm just jiyong." he spoke softly. he wasn't sure why he said that but something in him compelled him to do so. his hair ruffled against the pillow, subtly shaking his head. "i don't do any of that. i'm set straight—normal." for the most part, his inner monologue voiced. you scooted closer, the tip of your nose brushing against his. your brought your hand up, pad of your thumb tracing his stubble. he watched you with a glint in his eyes; entranced. "no one's interrogating you." you whispered, a smile stretching your mouth, seeing him visibly relax. he let out a long breath, forehead falling onto yours, eyes fluttering closed. "and you are just jiyong." you told him, hand reaching behind him, coaxing tenderly up and down his back. "well, my jiyong. specifically speaking." "you got that right." he kissed your cheek, nestling into your chest, arms slung around your waist. you held him without hesitation, quickly combing his hair back with your fingers as it tickled your chin. jiyong closed his eyes, letting something else slip out: "you make my life feel normal." he muttered, hidden in your warmth. "you make my life a lot more interesting." you told him, the vibrations of your chuckle making him hold you tighter.

a couple hours later, he was out of your bed, stood in front of your rotating fan perched beside your dresser. "you'd think it wouldn't be still hot as shit in damn near october." jiyong muttered, quickly leaning down once the fan turned him way, flushed cheeks momentarily relieved. "i know." you concurred, left in nothing but a shirt and underwear; laid on your side in bed, head propped up by your hand. jiyong huffed when the fan turned away, tugging at the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the fabric. you quickly looked away when he turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed. the unintended brewing silence caught his attention, turning his head to look at you. "this is the longest you've gone without talking since we started dating." "shut up, ji." he grinned, leaning down, bringing his lips to yours.

"you've seen me like this before. why so shy now, hm?" he murmured against your mouth; the kiss slow, deliberate. "s'cause you're fine." you mumbled. "s'my line, baby." you stopped the kiss, lips hovering above his. "you're so cheesy sometimes that it hurts, jiyong." he laughed against your mouth. "but you like it. i know you do." he said between kisses. his hand reached your hip, sliding down your thigh until his fingers tried to nestle between them. you opened your thighs enough to let his hand in, closing them around his wrist. he cupped and palmed your clothed pussy as best he could, kissing you a bit harder. "i know my girl likes it when i'm half fucking naked." he whispered. his eyes opened when the kiss ceased, feeling your quiet breaths brush against his mouth. you perched your left foot atop the bed, effectively separating your thighs, allowing jiyong to feel your puffy lips underneath the fabric of your underwear. "look at her. so good f'me, so ready." he praised, glancing down as his hand tucked into the hem, sinking his middle finger between your puffy lips. he moved it side to side, watching you as a small gasp left your mouth. you adjusted your hips—to your fortune, the move aligned the pad of his finger to your clit, making you shudder, fighting rolling your eyes back by squeezing them shut.

aimlessly, your hand pawed at his bare chest. "j-ji—kiss me." he leaned in, the side of his nose aligning with yours. "don't ever need to ask," he murmured. "jus' do it." he kissed you repeatedly, going slower when you moaned into his mouth; it was the way you liked it—purposeful and fucking sensual. you both were present and so fucking crazy for each other that it could suffocate any room . . . and it was beginning to be your own. "both of your lips are so soft against my mouth, baby," he muttered atop your mouth, adding his tongue to the mix. "y'know i have dreams of eating that pussy, right? can't get enough of it—" "—j-jiyong!" you gasped, holding onto the back of his neck when the pad of his finger fastened its speed. "should i do it now? hm? should i eat this sweet pussy—make love to your fucking clit before i fuck it? yeah?" that latter was his usual dirty talk that got you the fuck going, putting the idea into your head before giving you brain that had yours malfunctioning. it felt so risky with your parents down the hall, so you never did it until—wait.

"j-ji—jiyong. stop—wait." you reached down, fingers wrapping around his wrist. he halted his ministrations, looking at you. "c-can't—can't think." you breathed heavily. "what's up? everything okay?" he asked, lips finding your temple. his finger left its spot between your puffy lips, palm resting against you. "do you—" your mind was scrambled. "do you have a condom? i want you. tonight." there was a small gap between his lips—until it clicked in his head. "right. right—" he nodded, reaching into his pocket and opening his wallet. if he thought he was flustered before, his cheeks were on fire now. the one fucking time—his inner monologue cursed. "shit—i don't have any." "go get some." "one step ahead of you." his hand slipped out of your underwear, sucking briefly on his middle finger before grabbing his shirt from the floor, shoving his feet into his shoes. "won't be longer than ten fucking minutes. i swear." he told you, leaning down and kissing your lips. "just—just stay horny." jiyong said a little awkwardly before climbing out the window. his own libido clouded his senses, dizzying his temples as he descended down the stairs and climbed down the short ladder. "will do." you muttered to yourself, chuckling.

your bed creaked as loud and incessantly as either you or jiyong willed it to. once he was in and you were adjusted ("how's it feel, baby? feel okay?" "y-yeah. just—just hold me, ji."), he fucked you right and good. you felt like everything he dreamed of and more—all those nights he lulled himself to sleep tracing the linen back and forth with his palm, imagining it was your hips; balling the fabric in his fist as he showed himself no mercy with the other, dreaming of what you might sound like around him. "f-feel good with me, baby. c-c'mon." he'd whisper to himself in the confines of his bedroom—panting it next to your ear whilst his hips rammed into yours. you felt as if you achieved your final form: arms above your head in bliss, shirt pushed up to your neck whilst your tits bounced intermittently, your fine ass man between your legs; fucking you with such tenderness coupled with carnal desire, stretching you out in a way you didn't know you needed or was possible, quite frankly. jiyong took his time to memorize your body: all the divots and crevices poetically curated by your cellulite, the uneven lines of your stretch marks, how the rolls adorning your hips jiggled differently than those on your stomach. his hips stuttered, vulnerable moan escaping his lungs when your thighs wrapped around his waist as best you could in your horned-out haze, pleading "more, jiyongie—m-more. want it harder," so beautifully. he leaned down, both of your heavy breaths meshing together as he adjusted his balance on his knees, rutting into you harder than before. all mine, he thought to himself, eyebrows curling upward at the sound of your indescribable moan, how fucking lucky am i?

the only problem was once you started . . . you couldn't stop. this newly-emerged can of worms was barely contained when your parents were once again just down the hall—but ambition was nothing without strategy. you two mapped out the least-noisy parts of your bed and acted accordingly: if jiyong's behind you, he's on his feet whilst your elbows propped you up on your bedside, your feet on the carpeted floors as his pelvis pounded your globes (nearly popping a vein trying to keep quiet in the process); if you were on top, strangely enough the top middle of your bed worked well, but jiyong couldn't change how he sat once he settled; or the one time you fucked on the floor because you really wanted to try the position whilst laid on your sides, but the bed would be too nosy. you swore to never do it again after waking up with a migraine and stuffy nose from the air conditioning blowing directly onto your head.

at some point, you couldn't take it anymore. it was after the thanksgiving holiday—the early hours of black friday, to be specific. whilst your friends were hitting the mall, jiyong was hitting it from the back. he drowned himself in your duvet trying to keep his whimpers at bay, your own palm suffering under the pressure of your mouth. when you finished, he kept his balance by gripping your left globe, squeezing it to thwart the urge to smack it silly. drool threatened to leak out the corner of his mouth, swiping it with the back of his other hand before pulling the condom off. a thin string connected your palm and your mouth, that same hand going into his hair without thinking upon feeling his lips against your cheek. "i love you so much." he whispered, hand tenderly rubbing your hip. "l-love you too. can't keep—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "can't keep being quiet. s'too hard." "i know. i feel the same." "help me—help me stand up, jiyongie." "i got you. c'mere, baby."

you were on the brink two weeks later. swiveling your hips, his hands holding your waist and lower back in place, swallowing his mewls and whimpers with your connected lips. jiyong was so needy—cut fingernails clawing at your bare back, faint whispers of "keep fucking me. keep f-fucking me just like that—hngh!" against your mouth, hastily re-connecting the kiss to muffle his verbose libido. he was more whiny than usual that night—this being the first time you've seen each other in a while from misaligned free time and abrupt family plans. it showed. "oh f-fuck yeah, baby—" his whisper was so faint and high he sounded as if he was depleted of oxygen. the way his face was scrunched up—mouth hung open, eyes shut, eyebrows knit deeply together—didn't help. "k-keep fucking me—keep fucking jiyongie just like that. y-yeah! fuck—" your mixed slick combined with the lubricated condom made his dick slip out of you a few times, permitting a breather, but not for long. your knees burned and you felt dizzy, but his cock was fucking addicting. it was all for you and no one fucking else's. his pathetic fucking whines merely scratched the surface of attesting to that—how about him chanting your name like a goddamn prayer? catching him grinding into the duvet when he's eating you out? begging for mercy with that fucking quiver, only to stutter a million thank yous once that euphoric wave hits? it was endless. he was yours. you'd take that tylenol and hydrate later—for now, it was just you and him. no one else existed in your shared world.

your gummy walls clenched around him, sending him into an untamable orbit. "a-agh!" he whined aloud, sucking in a breath with your hand covered his mouth with haste, his eyes widening. "you better stop moaning like a bitch." you whispered. his eyes were misty, subconsciously mourning the temporary loss of movement. "i c-can't help it, baby," he shook his head, shaking off your palm. "y-you feel so fucking good. m'so fucking turned on right now—you have no idea, holy s-shit." both of his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses onto your bare chest. "i'll be good. i'll—i'll behave, baby." he whispered, looking up at you. his hand grabbed your right breast, eyes watching yours with a glint. "i'll be your good boy—your good jiyongie. look, i'll do this to keep quiet." his tongue encircled your nipple before taking it between his lips, lapping the peak repeatedly.

it was an effective method, considering when you started moving again, all that could be heard was the moderate, non-suspicious tinkering of your metal bed frame—but now your self-control was withering away. your fingers entangled in his hair, vibrations of his moans molding into your plush skin . . . you couldn't help yourself: "f-fuck!" you gasped, hand aimlessly grabbing onto the wall in front of you, nails scratching against the chipped paint. jiyong sucked diligently as if nothing happened. you attempted to squish this shit like a bug, needing your boyfriend to wake the fuck up: "cut that shit out, ji—ha-a!" you sucked in a breath. "i can't k-keep quiet." "if i don't have this, i'm going to wake up the entire neighborhood." he muttered. "not before we wake my fucking parents!" you whisper-yelled. you nudged the side of his head with a tsk, your nipple slipping out of his mouth with you leaned to your left, grabbing your shirt. "oh hell no—" jiyong realized what was happening, you cutting him off: "shut up." you tutted, putting your shirt on. "thats what you get."

you held either side of his face, kissing his lips sweetly. "i love it when you're like this." you felt him hum. "all desperate." "i know," jiyong answered, kissing you back. "you ride my shit into the sunset whenever i do." he chuckled when you turned away, clearly flustered. "come back here." he murmured gently, lips decorating your supple cheek. "but m'being honest. this is how you make me. s'fucking hard keeping quiet, baby." "i can't keep doing this, jiyong." you shook your head. "i'm going crazy." "i know, pretty girl, i know." he nodded, palms rubbing up and down your thighs. "my place isn't really an option, either." he shook his head, seeing you nod. you talked about this before. "always busy with some shit. but i'm gonna get us a room—its about time. so we can be loud as we want to, yeah? fuck good and hard?" "y-yes." you let out a shaky breath, slowly beginning to move your hips. "needed it, like, yesterday." "i'll book it first thing tomorrow." he whispered, bottom lip choked between his teeth. "just finish us off, baby," his voice was already an octave higher. "no one does it like you—ha-a—a—oh f-fuck!"

it was an interesting feeling, knowing you were going somewhere just to fuck your boyfriend. those car rides were either humorously quiet or overly conversational—the little white lies you told your parents at the back of your mind as you filed into jiyong's passenger's seat after your shift ended: "i'll be late tonight. its someone's birthday," "i'm picking up another shift," or his personal favorite "the girls and i are having a sleepover." ("am i one of the girls?" "in your dreams.") he swiped his card at the hotel receptionist's desk without a second thought; clothes on the floor and bed creaking less than an hour later. the nearby 24 hour mart was the go-to for condom and snack runs, or the neighboring strip mall where you went for dinner ("do you want to go re-fuel?" "'re-fuel' is crazy, jiyong.") or he'd pick up an order—styrofoam take-out containers sprawled out in bed, eating your burgers and curly fries with nothing but the thin hotel quilt atop either of you, talking about whatever as the local weatherman played on the box television.

"keep moving like that! holy shit! holy shit!" he cried out one night, fucking up into you as you slammed down onto him. his hands went back and forth between gripping the side of your thighs to smacking either of your plush globes; or laying his palms on your thighs, looking down as he both watched and felt them shake with each unrelenting thrust. "i love feeling this fucking j-jiggle," he sucked in a breath. "and gripping this shit." his hands squeezed your ass before kneading to your love handles, looking up at you upon hearing you moan. "have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are," his breathing was jagged, sweat perspiring across his forehead. "the fuck do y-you—hngh!—t-the fuck do you mean no one's ever wanted you this bad? huh? felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh my god—ha-a—a!" he whimpered, hips stuttering to a sudden halt after you clenched around him. you let out a breath, adjusting your knees, hands letting go of the headboard to opt for your arms wrapping around his shoulders. "thats it, thats it." he praised gently. "get comfortable f'me. for your jiyongie—your good jiyongie. there you go, baby." he found his face lost in your neck when he started moving again; fingers entangled in his hair, nails scratching against his tattoo. "o—oh! j-jiyong! oh f-fuck, b-baby—" you cut yourself off with a gasp, guttural moan following. you felt so free. "felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh fuck—yeah! yeah!" he was close, determined to finish his thought. "felt like i needed to go to church and t-thank g-god herself for bringing me t-to you—f-fuck!"

no part of the room was spared. godspeed to whomever was on the housekeeping shift that saturday morning after the stench you two left in that damn bathroom . . . meant to get in the shower at ten to make the eleven check-out time and also complementary weekend brunch . . . but its not your fault the both of you are fine as fuck! "like that! like that! m-more—more! f-fuck!" your voice bounced off the tiled walls; acoustics of the bathroom drilling your moans into his brain for his next however so many lives—not that he was complaining what-so-fucking-ever. your knee was atop the counter, stomach laying comfortably in the sink as your hands held onto the wall and mirror before you, being fucked delectably from behind. the plop of his heavy balls against you hardly rivaled the sound of the air vent, let alone how loud you were. "o-oh my god, baby! f-fuck—fuck me! fuck me just like that! a-ah!" your walls swallowed and spit him out whole, leaving nothing to the imagination with the condom covered in creamy slick. he was panicking a little, though, because all of his cock was in you. he didn't have anymore, so he just went harder.

it seemed to do the trick. his mouth fell open at the sound of your shaky "oh my fucking god!", glancing at the mirror and seeing an expression on your face that he thought only existed in his fantasies. "f-fuck!" he whimpered. "y-you're f-fucking tight—feels so f-fucking good—a-agh! jiyongie f-feels so good!" referring to himself in third person was a tell-tale sign he was pussy drunk, only making you more hornier, knocking over the hotel hand soap in your effort to fuck him back. damn—is my dick really that good? he wondered to himself, nearly stumbling in trying to regain his balance. it ended in you two making it on time to brunch—but with his t-shirt on inside out and backwards, and droplets of water adorning your hair, along with a sheer streak of body lotion on display whenever your lifted your arm to take a bite of your omelette, of course.

godspeed to whomever was next door, too, like that one time a couple took an overnight pitstop during their road trip. it was downhill for them starting at 11 pm that friday night. you were stroking jiyong's cock as he laid on your chest, his moans muffled by your mouth, but the boyfriend's eyebrows raised nonetheless as he got ready for bed. the girlfriend nudged his shoulder and gestured to the wall when you were getting your pussy ate, moans undeniable as jiyong's tongue made love to your clit, slurping you up like never before. she kept her laughter in, eyes widening humorously at the circumstance. the smile was swiped clean off of her face when jiyong started fucking you—grunts of fighting for power as your ass rammed his pelvis, mewls of pleasure, and whorish moans bleeding through the walls like it was made of paper. the couple stared at the ceiling in complete darkness, not a wink of sleep in sight for either of them. to top it all off, a phone kept ringing. until something went crashing down.

"who keeps—who keeps fuckin' calling—god damn!" they heard him curse when your mobile rang again. "m-must be one of the girls." you were out of breath, the ringtone dramatically deafening. "c-can you—can you get it? take out the battery or something. i can't reach—can't think straight, sick of the phone—hngh!" your thoughts came out fragmented, shutting up once jiyong leaned over to the bedside table; inadvertently shoving his cock deeper inside you. he slid the back off, picking the battery out and shoved everything onto the floor hastily. "thats fucking better—f-fuck!" you pushed into him, feeling him grip your hips and rut into you at breakneck speed. "y-yes! yes!" you cried. the girlfriend was fed up, but not with you: "why don't you fuck me like that?" she asked her boyfriend. "uh—" he stuttered. "she's—she's playing it up. clearly. i mean, who really sounds that dramatic? right?" he was overpowered by the sound of you calling jiyong's name so delicately that anyone could see what was really going on. the girlfriend huffed, turning away from him and onto her side, tugging the duvet. "that's what someone who doesn't know what they're doing would say." she muttered. "good-fucking-night."

its true: jiyong knew you like the back of his hand. no matter how he got on your nerves sometimes (with love, of course.) however, as your five month anniversary went by, and you rang in the start of the 21st century together ("we survived y2k, baby. i think this calls for some celebration." "just finish your cig in peace, ji."), you realized you didn't really . . . know him. like, some of the basics. here's some context—what initially tipped you off was something completely unrelated: a conversation that arose when you were out with friends; out at brunch at a local diner, taking up an entire booth, catching up after some time apart. an anecdote filled your ears: "we went all the way to his mom's for his little brother's birthday," a friend was recounting her previous weekend with her boyfriend; the tinkering of silverware and iced teas decorating the air. "it was fun. the food was so good—i haven't stopped thinking about the baked ziti." a wave of chuckles spread around the booth, including from you. as she went on, your inner monologue took your attention away from your french toast: does jiyong have a sibling? i think he mentioned having an older sister before . . . but where does he live? oh my god—where does he live?

you grabbed your glass of water, taking a sip, mentally going down the rabbit hole. does his mom live with him? are his parents divorced? i mean, with his dad's work, its highly unlikely . . . but still—what's his family like? holy shit, i don't even know his favorite fucking movie. now the standing question is was this a product of your own actions, or was he just secretive to the point it all fell under the radar? it felt complex and confusing, and also as if the universe was targeting you directly. the next thing cemented it: the mention of your name from someone in the group took you out of your head. "hm? what's up?" you muttered. "does jiyong have any hobbies?" you have got to be kidding me. you thought to yourself, out of everything i could've been asked. and i don't even fucking know. the look on her face was almost knowing, but in a different way. the subtle snarkiness ruminated in some of your friends since you told them you and jiyong were dating—a product of not having the gall to ask you about his family directly, you've figured. "he does," you quickly said, nodding. "he likes making mixtapes—" "has he made you one?" "yeah, he has. a couple, actually." you nodded again. now lay off; and she did.

not only was jiyong the type to know what he wanted, but he knew when something was up. a lifetime in a household riddled with conflict will do that to you. he doted on your cheek with sweet kisses, remnants of your shared desire sporadically sprinkled throughout the hotel room the following weekend. his arms were wrapped around your naked body, bringing you closer to his own whilst he lowly hummed in content—but you weren't paying attention, and deliberately so. your eyes remained glue to the uninteresting re-run playing on the late night television channel. jiyong was losing his patience, but kept himself leveled: "is something on your mind, baby?" he asked gently. "no." you responded curtly. he pursed his lips, "your pout says different." you let out a huff, defeated, turning your head towards him. a moment passed before you spoke: "i don't know you." you blurted. immediately confused, jiyong's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" "i mean—" you shook your head, "let me explain." you turned to face him fully. "the other day, i was out with my friends. one of them talked about, like, going to her boyfriend's mom's house for a birthday party, and i just thought about how i didn't even know where you live. like, what part of the city, or something." you thought aloud.

your effort to find your words subconsciously led you to sit up in bed, hand out as if you were rifling through the metaphorical word bank. "like, i don't even know what your favorite movie is, ji." you shook your head. "the godfather." he joked, shit-eating grin on his face; head propped against his palm, elbow on his pillow. "this is what i fucking mean!" you exclaimed, gesturing towards him. "be for real, jiyong. now's not the time." "okay, okay. i'm sorry," he apologized, sitting up himself. "i'm not really one for movies." he said. "i'm more into tv—like twin peaks. i really like that show." you looked at him. your subtle pout made you look kissable to the level of a federal offense. "what's your favorite ice cream flavor?" "easy: rocky road." answered jiyong. he looked at you for the next question, but it didn't feel satisfactory. nothing did. your face sunk into your palms. "i don't even know where you live, jiyong." you repeated, albeit with an added sense of self-pity. "that's, like, the first thing someone knows about their significant other. i said 'i love you' before i even knew whether you live on a fucking cul-de-sac, or some shit."

his chest felt heavy. he knew you were right. perhaps his efforts of protecting you from the mess of his life backfired. he didn't feel the need to be retaliatory or on the offense, but instead owned up to it. "i'm sorry." he muttered. "no, jiyong. don't apologize," you shook your head. "that's not what i—you know what . . . i don't even know what i meant. just—just forget it." "no, don't do that." he tsked, shaking his head. "that's the last thing we should do right now. c'mere, baby." he scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you, bringing your head to his shoulder. "i'm not the best at being open." he murmured, only for your ears to hear. "but i'm going to try my best to change that—for you. you hear me?" he kissed your temple. "its the least i could fuckin' do." he thought aloud. a long breath left his lungs, eyes fluttering closed, letting himself feel the uncomfortable emotions stirring in his chest. "how about i bring you around tomorrow before i drop you home?" he spoke into your supple skin, pressing a kiss. "my parents won't be home, so it won't be a lot at once. but it'll be a start. how's that sound, baby?" "okay. as long as you're good with it." you said. "i'm more than good with it." he assured with a nod. "you're the person i trust the most, y'know."

his family's house was beautiful. lived in, personal, and not intimidating whatsoever—in fact, it was normal. luxurious, yes, but normal. he lived in a gated community lined with homes with price tags you could only imagine, parking his car on the driveway made with any regular asphalt (you felt asinine for being compelled by such a small detail, but couldn't blame yourself either). the few granite steps leading to the front door were lined with potted flowers in bloom on either end. you had hardly any time to take in just how fucking wide the door was, because before you knew it, paws were pitter-pattering on the floor, followed by a handful of barks. "this is rodney." jiyong bent down after taking his shoes off, scratching behind the beagle's ears. "we got him for my older sister when she turned sixteen. i didn't name him that nerdy shit—she did."

jiyong then gave a tour: the wall of family photos that lined the left side of the hallway leading to the kitchen—the frames aged yet elegant (the portraits weren't giving jcpenney but a friend of a friend of a friend who knows an exclusive french photographer, and mixed in effortlessly with developed photos from disposable cameras and polaroids from family reunions); a descriptive yet comedic detailing of the food in the fridge after you mentally got over how spacious the kitchen island is ("this sliced meat right here—my dad's gone to the same butcher since he was a kid. oh, and this tupperware—my mom's bulgogi marinade is top tier." "i can't wait to try it one day, ji." "you will, baby. you will."); peeking out the windows on the lited doors serving as an entryway into the backyard, staring at the pool before harkening your attention back to him standing in the living room, the couch and nintendo 64 between you two ("me, and this couch. like this—" he crossed his fingers. "every thursday at nine for twin peaks." "no wonder you disappear." "prior obligations, baby."); to finally his bedroom, with rodney filing in and settling into his duvet whilst showed you his cds ("wu-tang clan changed my life." "can i borrow it to listen to it sometime?" "its like you want me to drop everything and propose right now." "its never ending with you, jiyong.")

when rodney decided he was over it, he jumped down and left the room, allotting the bed to you and jiyong. some time later, you laid comfortably atop the duvet, fingers entangled in jiyong's hair as your lips molded against his, his palms tenderly rubbing up and down your side. from time to time, you grew flustered, breaking the kiss and turning away, beckoned back to him upon his lips trailing from your cheek to the corner of your mouth. when it happened for the third time, a smile stretched his mouth. "hey," his breath was hot against your cheek, deepening your sheepish state. "come back here. stop doing that, baby." he purposefully elongated the last syllable, kissing your supple skin slowly. "don't get all shy on me." "i don't know," you muttered. "sneaking over to my boyfriend's house . . . making out with him in his bedroom . . . getting all shy like this. its like i'm finally experiencing what everyone else did when they were sixteen." you looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "does that sound stupid?" "not at all," jiyong shook his head, admiration apparent in his eyes. "you're so fucking cute that it pisses me off sometimes." he laughed at your scoff and eye roll, leaning closer when you nudged him away. "like, i get to be your baby. can you believe that?" "you're always on the brink of being my enemy." "that's hot." "jesus—its never ending!"

slowly ushering you into his life began to mend some things. he pushed aside those movie dates where you sat at the back of the theater, lips together like there was some sort of magnetic force; the gelato café where you've tried every flavor twice and repeatedly beat him at chess on the set out for customers; you two fighting the glitchy atm as he tries to deposit money to pay the overpriced rental rates for pattleboats at a nearby waterfront ("its like the universe doesn't want me to ride the dragon paddleboat." "you sound more like me everyday, ji.") for a restaurant his family has frequented since he was a kid. it was lavish and elegant—yet a sense of community was palpable. jiyong greeted the hostess like he's known her his entire life (because he has), cooly pulling out your chair out for you before settling in himself. he had a pristine suit on coupled with the watch he met you in, wearing them both with ease like a second skin of sorts, ordering the chicken parm for the both of you ("its the best dish and also ginormous") and a wine you were pretty sure had three digits after the dollar sign on the menu.

as out-of-body of an experience this was, you felt you blended in somewhat. it was all in your outfit: a long sleeve red dress that draped just above your knees, complemented by black tights, pearl earrings jiyong gifted you for christmas, and a coat to protect from the bitter winter cold outside. jiyong could tell you were uneasy at first, eyes lingering on you whilst the waiter poured water into your glasses, seeing you try to hide your pensive expression with a grin. "c'mere," he called softly, arm draped on the back of your chair. "see that lady over there? the one with the blue silk top?" "mhm." "has some of the worst french tips you've ever seen. she used to babysit me when i was a kid—shit was in my nightmares." "what a way to reach consciousness." you giggled, making him smile. "i know, right?" he concurred, looking around. "oh—that guy over there, by the plant," he pointed to the right. "he was caught with his twenty-one year old secretary. his wife took the kids—think they're about my age now—he went to turkey and got a hair transplant." he wanted for it to be in view. "move your head, motherfucker." jiyong muttered, glancing at you when you nudged his shoulder. "jiyong!" you chuckled. "what? i wanna show you—look! now!" he whispered. you were taken aback. "i'll be for real with you: i would've never guessed." his commentary was disarming and helped you relax; the kiss he planted on your cheek helping his case.

you felt the fleeting glances from others in the restaurant throughout the night. everyone really knows each other, you thought to yourself as you cut into the chicken parm. however, it wasn't attached to a flare of vitriol or scoping-out-the-fresh-meat, like your one friend would suggest if she knew where you were tonight, but with an air of curiosity and gentle would you look at that? before returning to their business. many, if not all of your fellow diners, were older and had known jiyong his entire life. it was tight-knit, exclusive—further illustrated by the aunties that came up to your table when you finished your meal and were waiting on dessert, doting on him with "you've grown up so well," and smiles brightening even more so upon seeing you. what topped it all off was when an elderly man greeted jiyong at your table in the midst of sharing a small plate of flan, followed by his wife and two younger children���all dressed to the nines. jiyong shot up from his seat, extending his hand, only to be pulled into a hug. you quickly figured this was one of his uncles, standing to your feet after jiyong said your name: "this is my girlfriend," you walked around the table, smiling politely. after making introductory small talk, you returned to your seat, not seeing the uncle grab jiyong's elbow: "you look married." he muttered, making jiyong chuckle, nodding.

"blood-related?" you asked him a moment or two later, glancing at the family being seated on the opposite end of the room. "take a guess." said jiyong, wiping the caramel drizzle from the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. "hm. . ." you thought aloud. you genuinely considered it: they shared a similar cadence and held their postures akin to looking into mirrors, but something in you said it was otherwise. "i'm gonna say no." you looked at him, hearing his spoon tinker against the porcelain plate. you shrugged your shoulders, "intuition, i guess." jiyong swallowed his bite of flan, smiling afterward. "what?" you questioned. "did i get it right?" jiyong nodded. "you did, yeah. he's my dad's oldest business partner. used to take me on fishing trips—it was him that shocked me the most when i put the pieces together, y'know?" "mhm. i see, i see." you nodded. you scooped some flan in your spoon, slipping it into your mouth. you sat back on your chair, letting out a breath as your arms crossed over your chest. jiyong couldn't help his grin—you looked like a natural. "you're gonna fit in well here." he told you. "i barely know what i'm doing." you said. "well," he countered. "there's nothing to know. i'm just . . . . me. you just need to be you."

you grabbed your wine glass, stirring it with a subtle rotation of the stem held by your fingers. "i told my parents about us." said jiyong. "you did?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed, taking another sip. jiyong nodded, "i told my mom, like, two weeks after we met. she was so excited." he tried to act cool about it, but you saw through the sudden avoidant eye contact and nervous chuckle; amused grin on your face. "how about your dad?" you set your glass down. "he found out through her." explained jiyong, seeing you nod. "then—then he tried to ask me about you like he didn't know. he's not that good at being subtle." he shook his head, smile stretching his mouth hearing your laughter. his family sounded sweet and admirable, a stark contrast from their perceived reputation. a product of being multi-faceted and cunning, you figured, but you found it endearing nonetheless. "would you—" jiyong cleared his throat. you knew what was coming. "would you ever tell your parents about me?" "absolutely," you answered without hesitation. "they might, y'know, stop drop and roll to the hospital. but they're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, quite frankly."

jiyong smiled so big that his eyes kissed in the corners. "that's right." he chuckled, nodding. "would they be more calm if there was a diamond on your ring finger?" you gave him a look, eyes narrowing a little. "i think that might induce cardiac arrest, but not before it does me—because i know you're not about to get down on one knee right now." "i'm not!" he smiled, shaking his head. "i promise, i'm not! well, not yet—" "—jiyong." "its just an idea!" he defended. "to think about!" you tsked, unable to hide your grin, watching as he took the checkbook from the waiter. "yeah, okay," you nodded. "think about it, silently, to yourself as you pay the bill." "mhm, mhm." he nodded, biting his bottom lip; utmost failure of keeping his smile at bay, placing his card into the book and handing it back to the waiter. "you don't see us doing that, though?" he wondered aloud. "if i say yes, you can't use it against me and make me all flustered and shit." "i can't promise you that." "well, then i guess you'll never know." jiyong smiled knowingly. "think i got my answer, baby."

as the good fluttered in, so did the bad. things got real rather quickly—in every meaning of the word. it wasn't that you were naive and expected some adrenaline-pumping life with jiyong. he was normal, and just a person whom was born into circumstances out of his control. he felt so lucky to have found someone so generous and grounding, accepting of his family without materialistic expectations or with a looming hunger for intel. you wanted him for him; the good, but also the ugly—no matter how visceral it may be. living a life of nuance wasn't a culture shock. everyone experienced it in their own respective lives, whether it was what you perused for at the grocery store, how you were raised, the car you drove, your personal quirks, your defining experiences; the list was endless. jiyong's just happened to be the talk of the city, and on full public display when he was pushed to the edge. so when he showed up to your window on a late thursday night, knocking softly and one when your bedroom door was closed (the rules you established long ago), with small cuts on his face and a bruise forming on his chin, you didn't know what to do.

"h-hey baby," he smiled—an effort to fight his increasingly glossy eyes. "how are—how's it going?" "ji," your voice was quiet, taking the sight of him in. "what . . . what happened?" "uh—" he licked his lips, wiping a fallen tear, seeing it mixed with a droplet of blood leaked from a cut on his eyebrow. its now or never, he thought to himself. "y'know how—y'know how when he first met, i told you sometimes some guys try to give me trouble?" he sniffled. you nodded, "yeah." "well, sometimes," he sucked in a breath. "sometimes i let them." the shame felt atomic. it all happened so quickly . . . out to dinner with his friends . . . having a smoke in the parking lot outside . . . the son of his father's many business partners that's been on the brink of being ousted coming up to him . . . the beef trickling back to jiyong, the eldest and only son of his father's, having to take the heat . . . next thing he knew, he was flooring it to your apartment complex, his face pulsating.

he shook his head. "i didn't have anywhere else to go." he looked at you pleadingly. "its—its—" hard to explain, his inner monologue finished, but he couldn't get the words out. "do you . . . do you have a first aid kit?" his voice fell to a whisper. a moment went by before you responded, everything starting to sink in. "i do have something—" "—t-thank you!" he let out a breath. he grabbed your hands, kissing your inner wrists. "i'm so sorry b-baby. i didn't mean to scare you—i love you so fucking much." he cried. "hey, ji, i need you to breath." you brought him back down to earth, watching him inhale and exhale shakily. "you stay here and out of sight until i get back." you motioned to the brick wall to your left. he's done it before, hiding himself during a close call with your parents early in your relationship. "okay?" "y-yeah." he nodded. "don't—don't take long." "i won't."

you did what you could with the tools at your disposal: a bottle of antiseptic that's been lodged in the bathroom cabinet for years in case it was needed; applying it to his cuts with a cotton round, neosporin that was bought recently after your dad nipped his finger fixing a loose hinge on a kitchen cabinet, and a pack of bandaids that have been there as long as the antiseptic. it wasn't much, but it did the job. jiyong didn't have it in him to hiss at the slight stinging, let alone scrunch his face up in muted discomfort. you two sat in silence, you carefully placing the bandaid on his eyebrow as best you could, your other hand lifting his hair so it wouldn't stick to the adhesive. "do you wanna tell me what happened?" you spoke quietly, fingers fixing his hair. jiyong shook his head. "its fucking embarrassing." a beat went by. "i don't wanna scare you—or something." "you wouldn't. its not embarrassing to tell your girlfriend about something, ji." you told him. he recounted the night as best he could, but didn't lift his head to look at you; falling into mutters when it got to the more sensitive parts. it left you bewildered, but accepting—there wasn't any other choice.

"i'm sorry, jiyong." your hand rubbed his bicep tenderly. "you don't deserve that pressure. no one does." "it can get real fuckin' tough." he nodded, feeling the tears brew again. "like there's no way out sometimes. just gotta suck it up, y'know?" he looked up at you, sniffling. "i know." you whispered. "can i—" he let out a shaky breath. "can i stay here tonight?" "you know that's not possible, ji." you said—your parents down the hall. "i know," he nodded quickly, wiping his cheek. "but i just—i had to ask. how about the hotel? do you wanna go?" "i have work early in the morning." "oh shit—yeah. i forgot. sorry." he muttered. he knew this was coming: he'd have to deal with these emotions himself. he wasn't new to this, but it would've been nice to spend the night with his love. "its okay." you assured, reaching for his hand. "can you—can you hold me? i'm sorry, i don't wanna be a burden—" "—shut up." you cut him off, pulling him into your embrace. he nuzzled his face into your neck nearly immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, eyes closing at the feel of your hands traveling up his back, settling behind his shoulders. you talked to him in a way that would resonate: "when you're the love of my fucking life, there's no such thing as being a burden." you whispered into his ear. "do you fucking hear me, ji? hm?" "yes." he responded meekly, holding onto you tighter.

your palm smoothened his hair, petting the back of his head like he’d wither away at any second. “i told my parents about us.” “you did?” he expected the worst. “what did … what did they say?” “they brought up your dad,” sounds about right, jiyong thought to himself. “which is surprising, since they usually keep to themselves, so i didn’t expect them to know. but i guess if you don’t talk, you listen.” you thought aloud, hearing and feeling jiyong hum as he listened. he opened his eyes, pondering if he should say what was brewing in his head. i’ve spilled so much tonight, he figured, might as well. “what did you say?” he asked. “i told them they have no idea what they’re talking about,” his eyes fluttered closed, holding you closer. “and left it at that.” he felt his face grow hot. “would they—would they ever wanna meet me?” “funnily enough, my mom asked me this morning before she left for work.” your hand traced up and down his arm. “between you and i,” you grinned. “she looked a little excited at the prospect.” “really?” jiyong lifted his head. “that's—that’s amazing.” a twinkle returned to his eyes. “we can take her to val’s,” the restaurant he took you to, “anything she wants, she gets. i don’t give a fuck how high the bill is.” he shook his head, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “what about your dad?” “he’ll come around.” you said. you saw his face drop a little. “it’ll take some time, but he’ll come around. i promise.” your hand came up, fingers fixing his hair, though it looked fine; you just wanted to be near him. jiyong nodded, turning his head to kiss your palm before leaning in, bringing his lips to yours. “i don’t know where i’d be without you.” “me neither.”

the next several months were smooth sailing. your first valentine’s was spent at val’s before making the headboard bash into the wall at the hotel—the bouquet of roses jiyong gave you sitting idly next to the gifts you got for one another on the tv stand. come spring, you met his family! not only his immediate, but most of his extended, as well. it called for extensive preparation: “what do i wear?” you asked him from your end of the line, mobile flip phone held between your ear and shoulder as you reached for your go-to cereal. “i don’t know—something casual?” jiyong lugged his laundry bag down the basement stairs. “its a fuckin’ dog’s birthday party. wear anything you want.” he let out a breath, lifting the top of the washer open. “no, jiyong,” you huffed, pouring your cereal into your bowl. “be for real. i’m not showing up in jeans. tell me so i can thrift accordingly.” “thrift? fuck no. i’m taking you to the mall to figure this out. what time’s your shift end?” “two.” you looked at the time on the oven—you had to be out the door in twenty minutes. “great,” you heard jiyong as you chewed. “we’ll be there at two-thirty.”

rodney’s adoption day party was as lively as a graduation or wedding engagement celebration. the love was in the air, specifically an excuse for a huge family to get together and eat good food. jiyong’s mother dashed over to you in her kitten heels before her son could utter a mere syllable, harnessing the most welcoming aura. “you’re more beautiful than i ever could’ve imagined, oh my goodness!” she seemed like the happiest person in the world, holding your face so softly in her hands as if you were god-sent. she took the boxed tiramisu you brought with a look of appreciation, taking your hand in hers, and effectively away from jiyong as she brought you to the festivities in the backyard; much to his chagrin. “how’re you feeling?” jiyong asked when his mother was beckoned away by an in law, hand on your lower back. “a lot of things,” you nodded. “many things—good things. colliding.” he chuckled. “good,” he nodded. “come here, we’ll start with my cousins.”

no one had to tell you his father was the one standing on the opposite end of the poolside, the way he carried himself did the talking. he was conversing with a small group when jiyong brought you over. he was half an inch taller than jiyong, never faltering his posture, even when extending his hand to shake yours. you were so fucking nervous, looking up at him with your best smile and polite greeting. it was like he knew, because what he said next was so disarming it nearly made you dizzy: “i’d usually be a lot less formal with my son’s girlfriend, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold with these guys.” he gestured his head to the right. you let out a laugh, missing him patting jiyong’s shoulder and giving him an approving, re-assuring wink. you went to motherfucking town on that bulgogi, coupled with bottomless in-house mimosas (“compliments to the chef, your mom—holy shit.” “that’s what i’m saying!”); surprised when rodney recognized you after only meeting a couple times, delighted when he came over and sat by your feet (“you’re his mommy.” “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”); or him watching happily when you got along with one of his older cousins, talking to her about coldplay’s upcoming record. a job well done; a new chapter opened.

you were invited frequently back to his house for dinner thereafter. your parents did come around, treated to dinner at val's—jiyong answering whatever questions your father threw at him with unbridled ease. finally, after all this time, it felt as if things were falling into place. so much so that when it came time for his birthday, several weeks after celebrating your first year together, you took a page out of his book: making a mixtape. sure, your family computer was running like a jet engine by the end of it … and you picked up an album of an artist he likes just in case it didn’t work … along with something else … but its the thought that counts, right? right. you handed him the small gift bag before after he climbed out your bedroom window, ready to say goodnight. “happy birthday, my love.” you held his face, bringing your lips to his. “thank you, baby.” he smiled. “what is it?” you tsked, making him chuckle. “open it when you get home. its just … a little something.” “a little something?” “a token for you to remember me by.” you grinned, referring to his family’s week long trip visiting his elder sister and brother-in-law, set to fly out early in the morning. “your dramatic ass.” he teased, giving you a sweet kiss. “i love you. i’ll be back before you know it.” “i love you too,” you rested your hands on the windowsill, watching him descend down the fire escape. “page me when you get home—drive safe!” “i will!”

the mixtape worked, holy shit! he read the accompanying card with a grin on his face, heart doubled in size, practically seeping out of his pores when he opened a greatest hits cd of one of his favorite artists. he set them down on his nightside table, peering into the bag and seeing a box was left. he fished it out—it looked like it would house jewelry, nothing bigger than that. did she get me a bracelet? necklace, maybe? he wondered, lifting the lid. what stared back at him was unmistakable ribbed knit black fabric, lined with what looked to be white elastic hemming tucked into the sides; half of the brand name visible. “holy fucking shit.” he whispered to himself. he’s seen you wear this pair before—better yet, he’s taken it off of you before. he picked the folded underwear out of the box, watching it dangle off his fingers in awe. a thought flashed in his mind. he leaned in, inhaling. then he inhaled again. and again. and again. is that why she went to the bathroom before i left? to fucking pack this—he inhaled sharply, looking down and seeing how hard he was through his shorts. holy fuck.

he triple checked that his bedroom door was locked, taking an extra precaution and lodging the top of his desk chair underneath the handle. jiyong kicked his shorts and briefs off, laying comfortably in bed. he took a deep breath, beginning to stroke himself. he started slow, not wanting to work himself up too quickly. he stared at your underwear held in his palm, letting it dangle onto the linen before scooping it back up, teeth raking over his bottom lip. “look how hard you made me, b-baby—s-shit!” he whispered to himself, stomach curling inward, that fucking knot in his abdomen already threatening him. “look how hard you made your jiyongie.” the amount of precum he already had was (to him) embarrassing, making him grip his stiffened dick more firmly to prevent it from slipping; inadvertently making his mind numb and toes curl. “f-fuck!” he mewled. “keep—keep f-fucking me, b-baby! keep fucking jiyongie just like that—a-agh!” his voice escaped into a higher register, almost invisible in his broken whisper. he pressed the back of his hand against his lips to quiet himself, bringing your underwear back to his nose, eyes rolling back upon catching your scent again. a vein popped onto his temple, sweat building on his forehead—eyes shut, thinking of how your skin jiggles every time he fucks you; the way you look up at him before taking his dick in your warm mouth; the thought of you taking your underwear off in the bathroom and packing it for him.

“o-oh my god!” he whimpered. without thinking, he wrapped your underwear around his dick the best his horned-out mind could, fucking his fist. “c-can’t h-help it, b-baby—can’t hold it in—f-fuck!” he came so hard, feeling it bleed through the fabric and trail down his balls. he breathed so hard he could power a fucking windmill, body feeling like jelly as he aimlessly reached for his jeans on the floor, fishing out his flip phone and speed-dialing you. all you heard was his heavy breathing: “hello? ji?” “i’m gonna f-fucking marry you.” he huffed, chest heaving. “what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, the microphone a little muffled. “is everything okay?” “i said—” he licked his lips. “i said i’m gonna marry you—a-agh! f-fucking—f-fuck.” he whimpered into the microphone, his mewls making it all click. you looked down at your thighs, heat brewing between them. “did you—” you swallowed. “did you like your gift?” “like it?” jiyong huffed. “baby, i—i came in it.” how could she act all innocent when she knows what she’s doing? oh my god—i’m gonna get hard all over again, his inner monologue rambled, breathing finally leveling. your jaw fell, catching it quickly behind your palm. “good to—good to know.” you muttered, hiding your face from no one. i wonder if that hotel would accept guests at one in the morning … you thought to yourself.

by the end of your second summer together, there was a stack of photos on your dresser—developed from various disposable cameras. most were from the same barbecue, beginning with a photo of you and a friend making drinks in the kitchen; the snacks lining the counter; the small bonfire that somehow became overexposed when developed; jiyong giving a thumbs up when the flash went off—a tester photo when you thought you fucked the camera up; you and your friends trying to coordinate a photo; you in the middle with jiyong and seunghyun (you finally know who he is! he’ll never let that inside joke go) on either side of you; and two of you and jiyong smiling grandly in both—the first with his arms around you sweetly; the second he calls “just let your dad handcuff me right now,” his hands visibly on your ass, cigarette hanging between his lips as he grinned. he couldn’t help the very characteristic thing he said after picking the photos up from the department store, rifling through them with you in his car: “damn. we look hot as fuck, baby.”

honey's tag list! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf; @infinetlyforgotten; @riddlerloveb0t; @mesopotamism; @pepsicolapussi; @breakmeoff

[igorluvr]

‘POWER | kwon jiyong x reader

PAIRING: gdragon x reader

CONTENT: smut, angst, situationship/toxic relationship, power imbalance, praise & degrading, fingering, dacryphilia (the tiniest bit), accidentally wrote him with a neck fetish or smth idk, bondage, oral & unprotected sex, orgasm denial, knife play, he’s not emotionally abusive he’s misunderstood i swear !!

SYNOPSIS: you knew who he was to the world: confident, untouchable, power incarnate. but behind closed doors, you saw something else— something raw. when he touched you, it wasn't just desire— it was desperation.

AUTHORS NOTE: first smut fic ahhhh 😓 i honestly had sm fun with this what the flip, writing this made me miss my ex #comebackhomebae

also apart of the übermensch series !!

words: [2.6k]

YOU should’ve known the moment the line between love and lust blurred, everything would fall apart. At first, it was sweet, innocent, perfect. But as the months went by, your relationship warped into something more depraved.

Every day, there was a new issue at work. Usually, you’d comfort him and reassure him that it would pass, but over time, he started growing cold toward you. He ignored your messages, passed you without a word— like you were already gone, and every time it happened, a sharp ache spread through your chest.

You kept telling yourself it would get better, but it never did. Whenever you tried to talk to him about it, another argument would start. It was like he didn’t care about fixing things anymore.

So, you ended things. Told him if he wasn’t going to try, then what was the point? What hurt the most was that he didn’t even seem to care. Instead of accepting his mistakes and trying to make things right, he acted like none of it had ever mattered to begin with.

“Jiyong, I can’t do this anymore,” you said, voice trembling as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, throat raw from holding everything in for too long.

He didn’t even look at you. “Do what?”

“This! Us! I’ve tried so many fucking times to get through to you, but you don’t even care!” Your voice cracked as the tears finally fell, cheeks wet and burning. “I understand work is hard, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like I’m nothing. I’m not your punching bag— I’m not just here to take your anger!”

He let out a slow exhale and shrugged. “Then don’t.”

You froze, eyes wide. He didn’t even flinch. You stared at him in disbelief. After everything— after every night you held him as he cried over the pressure, every time you stayed up just to hear about his day— this was his answer?

“If you’re so tired, just leave. What do you want me to do? I can’t change how you feel.” he muttered, still refusing to meet your gaze, as if your pain was a burden to him.

You stepped back like he’d slapped you. “Unbelievable.” you whispered. “Do you even hear yourself? You really don’t give a shit, do you?”

He scoffed under his breath and leaned back, arms crossed as if he'd already checked out of the conversation.

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

Your sadness turned into blinding rage. All the late nights, the ignored calls, the way he made you feel invisible— it all came rushing up like fire in your throat. You snatched your purse, your keys, anything that belonged to you with shaking hands.

“I fucking hate you,” you spat, pain laced in every syllable. You didn’t mean it— you loved him so deeply it hurt— but in that moment, you needed him to hurt too. You wanted him to feel every bit of the pain he left you with.

Fuming, you stomped out the front door with your arms full, not bothering to look back. You decided that if he never cared, you wouldn’t either.

That had been a month ago. At first, your breakup went somewhat smoothly. Neither of you called each other— no texts, no profile views, nothing.

But after the first week, none other than Jiyong appeared at your front door, claiming he left some of his things.

Long story short, you ended up doing more than just finding his belongings— being left with countless hickies and rather sore legs. It didn’t stop after that, though. Every couple days since then, Jiyong stopped by with another lame excuse— and you let him in each time. Because as much as you hated yourself for it, having a piece of him still felt better than having nothing at all.

Now, it had been over a week since he last came, and as much as you hated to admit, you missed him. The smell of his cologne on your sheets, the way his voice rasped your name against your skin, the weight of his body tangled with yours like you were something he couldn’t let go of— even if you both knew that wasn’t true.

Your life dulled into a head-throbbing silence after the breakup. No unexpected knocks at the door, nobody to hold as you went to sleep after a long day. It was just you now — you and the thoughts you tried so desperately to outrun.

Hooking up with Jiyong, if even for a few hours, had been the only thing that made you feel alive. It was toxic— you knew it. But he brought you to your highest highs, even if he plunged you into your lowest lows right after.

You stared at your phone, debating whether to break the silence. Just one message, just to see if he’d respond. You hated how desperate you felt, hated that your body still ached for someone who had emotionally abandoned you long before the breakup.

But before you could talk yourself out of it, there was a knock at the door. Your heart jumped, you didn’t need to check who it was— you already knew.

Your hand trembled on the doorknob, torn between shutting him out and the part of you that still craved his touch. Finally, with a shaky breath, you gave in— unlocking the door because, deep down, you wanted this.

He stood there, hood up, hands in his pockets like nothing had changed. “Left my charger,” he mumbled, voice low, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear him.

Bullshit.

You didn’t answer. You just stepped aside and let him in, even though every rational part of you screamed not to. Because even now, after everything, a piece of him still felt better than none.

Walking around, Jiyong entered and exited rooms as if he were actually looking for something— but you knew why he was here. It was the same reason everytime.

You hated how much power he had over you. He literally just walked in your house as if he owned it after a week of no contact, and you just let it happen. It was like he put a spell on you.

Leaving your room empty handed, Jiyong turned to you.

“Can’t find it” He said with a smirk on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Can you help me look?”

You smiled, already knowing exactly where this was going. Your body moved willingly, betraying every protest your mind tried to whisper. You stepped into your room, pretending to search— eyes scanning drawers, fingers tugging open a basket next to your bed, doing anything to look busy.

You told yourself you were only playing along, just going through the motions. But deep down, a part of you wanted this, needed it. Because no matter how twisted he made things, Jiyong was the only one who could make your body forget it all.

You were crouched beside the bed, fingers aimlessly shifting things around when you heard him behind you— voice low, lazy, and dripping with heat.

“You look good like that— bent over.”

A flash of heat rose to your cheeks. You tried to hide the smirk tugging at your lips as you answered, loud and dry. “Whatever, Jiyong.”

But you didn’t move, you didn’t stop him. And he didn’t hesitate.

He stepped closer, voice low and rough. “Can I?”

You swallowed hard, breathless, and nodded. His hand then grazed your lower back, sliding down over the curve of your ass.

His fingers pressed firmly, possessively— like he was reminding you who you belonged to. “I missed this,” he murmured into your ear, lips barely grazing your skin. “Missed you.”

“I need you, now.” you whispered, breath hitching when his hand slipped between your thighs, cupping you through the fabric of your shorts. Your hips jolted instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

“I know you do, baby.” he whispered, pressing his mouth to the side of your neck, biting just hard enough to make you whimper. “No matter how much you say you hate me.”

You could’ve stopped him, but you didn’t want to— not tonight. Not when your whole body remembered what it felt like to be his. Leaning into him, back arching, your head tilted back to give him more access.

You yearned for his touch, your past issues leaving your mind as soon as he laid a finger on you. He was your weakness, your addiction.

His fingers broke the waistband of your shorts, teasing the skin just beneath as his lips dragged along your neck. The way he touched you made you dizzy— slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you piece by piece.

“Already so wet” he murmured, voice low and smug, fingers now gliding through your folds with a dazing rhythm. “Missed me that bad, huh?”

You didn’t respond— you couldn’t. Your body betrayed you with every shaky breath, every low moan spilling from your lips as his thumb brushed your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles that had your hips grinding back into him instinctively.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your spine as he pulled you closer, hand gripping your waist like he was holding himself back from completely losing control.

“God, you’re so needy,” he growled, his voice rougher now, almost breathless. Your moans turned into gibberish and incoherent whines as you felt your stomach tighten familiarly, but just when you thought you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped.

“Do you want this, princess?” He asked, removing his hand from your waist to turn your head towards his. “Say the word, and I’ll make you forget every reason you left.”

All your pride, all the promises you made to never let him do this again, evaporated on your tongue as you spoke up, practically whining, “Fuck—yes, Jiyong, please.”

He smirked, satisfied with your desperation, and in one swift motion, picked you up and threw you onto the bed. You barely had time to react before he practically tore both of your shirts off and latched onto your mouth.

“You beg so pretty for me,” he said, pulling away and panting like he’d just run a marathon. “You always do.”

His mouth found your neck in no time, sucking on that spot he knew drove you crazy, while he fondled your breast using his free hand. With each bite to your neck, he rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you grind up against him out of pure need.

“Not yet, pretty,” he teased. “Gotta get you ready first. Don’t you wanna have fun?” He smiled— just as cocky as he was when you were together.

You whimpered under him, the ache between your thighs unbearable as he continued to toy with your body like it belonged to him— because in a way, it always had.

“Jiyong,” you breathed, fingers curling into the sheets as his tongue dragged lazily along the edge of your collarbone. “Please…”

“Oh? Now you’re polite?” he teased, voice soaked in poison. “Didn’t sound so sweet when you walked out that door, did you?”

His words stung, but the way his fingers slipped between your legs silenced every ounce of pride you had left. He pushed your shorts down your thighs, then leaned back to take in the sight of you— panting, flushed, and needy for him.

“Look at you.” he muttered, dragging his fingers slowly over your soaked panties. “You hate me, right? But your body…” he smirked as he pressed against your clit through the fabric, causing you to gasp, “doesn’t lie.”

The way his fingers circled and teased was enough to have your back arching, your chest heaving as your body screamed for more. Jiyong held your hips down, forcing you to stay in place and endure his restless teasing.

He leaned down again, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me how bad you want it.” he whispered, “Beg for me like you mean it.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to give up your pride— but the words fell out anyway, breathless and broken. “I want you, Jiyong. I need you.”

With that, he yanked your panties down and spread your legs, gaze darkening as he settled between them. “Good girl,” he said lowly, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Let me remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Then his mouth was on you— hot, skilled, relentless. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth had you unraveling more and more beneath him, gripping the sheets like a lifeline as he devoured you without mercy.

Your thighs trembled as his tongue worked you over with slow, devastating precision. He knew every inch of your body— every spot that made you squirm, every rhythm that made your eyes roll back, and he didn’t let up— not even for a second.

“Fuck— Jiyong,” you moaned, back arching as you tugged at his hair, needing something— anything—to ground you.

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, gripping your thighs tighter as he sucked on your clit just long enough to have your legs threatening to close around his head.

“Oh no, baby,” he muttered, pulling back from inbetween your thighs just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, eyes dark and full of lust. “Keep those legs open for me. You wanted this, remember?”

You nodded frantically, too close to stop, too far gone to care about anything but the knot building inside you— tight, hot, and on the verge of snapping.

He slipped two fingers inside you with no warning, curling them perfectly as his mouth returned to its place between your thighs. His pace was brutal, overwhelming, yet perfect.

“I can feel how close you are.” he muttered against your core. “You gonna come already? Hm?”

A string of broken cries left your lips as your hips bucked against his face. He held you down firmly, tipping you over the edge with a deep suck to your clit that sent your vision blurring.

You came with a gasp, voice catching in your throat as your body flooded with pleasure. He didn’t stop until you were shaking and whimpering from the overstimulation, trying to push him away.

Only then did he pull back, licking his lips with a smug grin like he hadn’t just completely ruined you. “Still hate me?” he asked, voice low and hoarse as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You blinked up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, as your lips hung open, unable to speak— because the truth was, you didn’t even know anymore.

Your breathing was still uneven, body trembling from the sensitivity when Jiyong stood slowly, towering over you like he owned every inch of you. His eyes were dark, hungry— but calculated. Like he had more in store.

“You think we’re done, baby?” he asked, voice low and commanding, tugging your jaw up to meet his gaze.

Before you could even answer, he gripped both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. His grip was tight, possessive—but beneath it, you caught a flicker of desperation. Like he was afraid of losing you more than anything.

You heard the faint clink of something metal before you felt the cool press of leather circling your wrists. He strapped you to the headboard with deliberate care, then tugged on your arms a couple times, making sure you couldn’t move.

“Jiyong,” you whispered, testing the restraints, “What are you—”

“Shh.” He kissed your temple. “You okay? Are you comfortable with this?” he asked, eyes still on the belt as he pulled it snug.

Nodding quickly, Jiyong made a low ‘tsk’ sound as he shook his head. “Gotta use your words, baby.”

“Yes, please touch me, Jiyong.” you breathed.

A dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “That’s my good girl.” He reached into his back pocket and, to your surprise, pulled out a small, familiar knife. Your body tensed, heart pounding in your chest. Not from fear— from thrill.

“You know I’d never hurt you” he murmured, dragging the blunt edge of the blade down the center of your stomach— slow, teasing, just like the other times. “I just like watching you squirm.”

The cold steel drew along your skin, just enough to make you shiver. Then, it slipped beneath the bridge of your bra. With one clean flick, he sliced it straight down the middle— fabric popping loose, freeing your boobs like they’d been trapped for too long.

You gasped, nipples hardening at the air hitting them. Jiyong returned to your neck once again, hands wandering all around your body as if he were admiring a work of art.

“Spread.” he said as he lifted himself from your body, not raising his voice. You obeyed, opening your legs to display yourself for him under the dim lights.

“Look at that,” he whispered, letting the ice cold blade trail up the inside of your thigh lightly. “You let me back in after everything— and now you’re dripping for me.”

He tossed the knife aside safely, then leaned in, his lips brushing your neck as his fingers slid between your legs. But instead of giving you what you wanted, he hovered, traced, toyed.

One finger pressed in, achingly slow— then out. You felt so embarrassingly empty, like there was nothing but air in your body. You whimpered, pulling against your restraints. “Please, Jiyong… please.”

He kissed your throat, open-mouthed and slow, tongue dragging against your pulse. His mouth left wet trails on your skin, giving you goosebumps from the cold air clashing with it.

“You don’t get to come,” he whispered, lips against your ear, “not until I say so. Not until I’ve fucked the memory of any life without me out of that pretty little head.”

Your breath hitched. You hated how much you wanted that.

He moved between your thighs and dragged his tongue through your folds— slow, precise, agonizing. Every movement was calculated, every groan from his throat deliberate— all to make his teasing that much more unbearable.

“You sound so pretty for me.” he spoke, slipping two fingers inside you and curling them just right. “You always do.”

As you stretched out by his thick fingers, your moans increased in volume. And when your body started to tighten; hips twitching, breath turning shallow— he pulled away again.

You cried out, frustrated, desperate.

He leaned over you, rubbing slow circles on your clit with maddening restraint, just enough to edge you again and again. “Not yet,” he warned with a smirk. “You wanna come, baby? You’re going to earn it.”

Even knowing how wrong it was, you still wanted him— wanted this. You weren’t giving in, you were choosing it. Nodding quickly, your voice nearly broke as you pleaded. “I’ll do anything. Please.”

“Good,” he said, kissing your bound wrists. “Then stay just like that.”

Fondling with the button on his jeans, he unfastened his pants, dragging them down along with his boxers simultaneously. His cock sprang free, slapping against his abdomen with a wet, heavy sound that made your mouth go dry.

He stroked himself once, twice— slow and controlled, eyes locked on you the entire time. “You see what you do to me?” he asked, voice rough, teasing. “You’ve been teasing me too, princess. All those days without texting me… acting like I didn’t exist.”

He climbed over you again, the head of his cock dragging through your soaked folds but never pushing in. Just enough to make you squirm in desperation.

“But now I’ve got you tied to your bed,” he whispered, lining himself up and gripping your hips. “Now you’re mine again.”

He ran the thick head of his cock through your folds once again, gathering every drop of your slick, making you shiver as he teased your entrance. He didn’t rush it. He took his time— dragging the tip up and down, groaning low in his throat as you whimpered beneath him.

When he finally pushed in, it wasn’t aggressive, he had just the right amount of force that made your eyes water.

A steady, stretching pressure that had your back arching, mouth falling open. He eased in inch by inch, watching every expression wash across your face, his hand rubbing gentle circles into your thigh to ground you.

“That’s it, good job, love.” he muttered, voice rough. “Taking me so well.”

Once he was fully seated inside you, he gave you just a second to adjust— his hand running soothingly over your stomach, your wrists still bound above you, completely at his mercy.

Then he pulled out halfway and thrust back in, harder this time, setting a rhythm that was rough enough to leave you gasping, but not enough to hurt. Every thrust was deep yet controlled, performed to drive you crazy, not break you.

“You feel that?” he growled into your ear, hips slamming into yours with a sharp snap. “Every inch of me inside you, stretching you open. You were made for me.”

You moaned helplessly, legs trembling as he kept going, his grip on your thighs tightening just enough to anchor you in place, to let you know you weren’t going anywhere.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice breathless against your neck. “Say who you belong to.” He dipped down to place wet kisses on your chest, tongue drawing patterns on your skin.

“Fuck— You, Jiyong. Im all yours.” You whined, throat going dry as you struggled to get your words out. Jiyong let out a satisfied hum as he kept going, hips snapping into you even faster.

Tears of overwhelming pleasure welled in your eyes as he hit the spot that drove you wild. Suddenly, he lifted your legs up, pressing your knees onto your chest.

The new angle pushed him even deeper inside you as you cried out in pleasure. You tugged at your restraints as he pounded into you relentlessly.

The sound of the headboard knocking against the wall echoed through the room, but you barely registered it. Your focus was on Jiyong— on the way his body moved against yours like he knew you inside and out, like this was the only place you belonged; beneath and completely giving yourself to him.

Your thighs trembled against his hips, legs still folded against your chest as he buried himself deeper, over and over, with an overwhelming rhythm. Your wrists ached in their restraints, every ounce of control you once had belonged to him now.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice low and dark as his thumb traces firm circles on your clit. “Falling apart just because I’m inside you. Crying for me, begging for me... this is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You whimpered, nodding as your back arched again. The burn in your stomach was unbearable, once again feeling that your pressure in your core. You were close, and he could feel it.

“Not yet,” Jiyong hissed against your ear, slowing down just enough to make you sob out of frustration. “Not until I say so.”

“Please— please, Jiyong,” you choked out, tears slipping down your temples as your body trembled under him. “I can’t... I need to—”

He cut you off with a sharp kiss, biting down on your lower lip before pulling away. “You can. And you will— for me.”

Then, without warning, he shifted his grip, pulled out almost completely, and slammed back into you hard enough to pull the breath from your lungs. Again, then again.

Your orgasm slammed into you like a flood. It ripped through your body with an intensity you hadn’t felt in months— your muscles clenching, vision blurring, cries spilling freely from your lips.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice thick and hoarse now as he chased his own high. “That’s it. Just like that.”

After a few more brutal thrusts, his climax followed. Jiyong's head dropped against your neck, breath hot against your skin as his body tensed above yours.

The room fell silent, filled with your combined panting rather than words. The sheets tangled beneath your bodies like evidence of everything you promised yourself you wouldn't do again.

A heavy ache settled in your chest as reality began to return, creeping in through the cracks his touch temporarily sealed shut. You looked up at the ceiling, wrists still tied, lips swollen, heart pounding for reasons far beyond lust.

After a few minutes, Jiyong finally moved. He slid out of bed without saying a word, pulling on his boxers before disappearing into the connected bathroom. The sound of water running filled the silence, and for a brief moment, you thought maybe he was going to leave.

But he didn’t.

The water shut off, and not long after, he returned— shirtless, damp hair pushed back, a wet washcloth in one hand and one of his oversized shirts in the other.

Without a word, he climbed back onto the bed, gently untying your wrists before wiping you down with the warm cloth. The soft heat of it contrasted with the cool air and the sting still lingering on your skin. He moved slowly, carefully— like he hadn’t just torn you open in every way imaginable.

“Too much?” he asked softly.

You shook your head. “No. It’s what I needed.” Sometimes, you hated how tender he was afterward— how it made your chest hurt in a different way. But this time you felt yourself melting into his touch, as if he were healing all your problems.

After cleaning you up, he helped you into the shirt, his fingers brushing your hips as he slid it over your arms. You winced slightly when the fabric grazed a sore spot, and he stilled, eyes flicking to yours.

“Sorry” he whispered, rubbing your skin with his hands softly to ease the pain

You managed a small smile. “It’s okay, I’ll feel better soon.”

Once you were dressed, Jiyong laid beside you again. The space between you was small but felt so much bigger. The silence was heavy with things neither of you knew how to say.

Your eyes wandered toward your ruined bra, the torn fabric laying limp near the edge of the bed. You gave Jiyong a sharp look.

He caught it immediately, smirking faintly as he leaned back against the headboard. “Don’t worry, jagi,” he said. “I’ll buy you five more.”

After the storm of lust passed, he traced circles on your back softly. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he whispered, voice raw and honest. You wanted to believe him, and for a moment, you did.

Unfortunately, you both knew that tomorrow, nothing would be fixed. Nothing would be different. Yet here you were again, wrapped in the same cycle.

He knew how much power he had. The way he kissed you like a promise, only to vanish like a ghost. He always came back. And you always let him.

Neither of you spoke, but the silence said enough.

When you looked at him, neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew. This cycle would repeat, no matter how much you wished it wouldn’t.

You hated him and you hated how happy you were to let him in, but most of all— you hated how you still loved him.

taglist: @breakmeoff @steponupbabe @tabibabib @mintymuse @heartubeatusalon @sternilei @julseysmel

[jiyongsangel]

Reflections, Kwon Jiyong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Jiyong has just finished practice and needs to let off some steam. Lucky for him his girlfriend is there.

Warnings: mdni, 18+, mirror sex, frustrated Jiyong, smut, p in v, blowjob

A/n: I’m ovulating okay

Jiyong could feel the frustration coursing through his veins, all day he’d been trying to get the choreography right but he just couldn’t. He’d keep missing a beat or two and mess up the whole routine. You had come in about 10 minutes ago and he had barely spoken to you.

“Fuck Jagi just come here.” He groaned.

You blinked a couple of times before pacing over to where he was sat, manspread on the couch. Jiyong pushed you onto your knees and tugged his pants down revealing his hardened cock.

“Open your mouth.” He said sternly.

You hesitated a bit, you were in public and anyone could walk in. Jiyong sensed your concern and scoffed.

“For fucks Sake y/n” he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged your head forward “I said open your fucking mouth.”

You gulped but obeyed, parting your lips so he could ram his cock in your mouth. Jiyong let out a moan of pleasure as he felt your warm lips envelope his length and bucked his hips, fucking your face with no repentance.

“That’s my girl, taking it like the good girl you are.” He breathed out whilst watching your reflections in the practice room mirror.

Mascara was streaming down your face as as tears leaked from your eyes all while Jiyong was using his grip on your hair to make you take him deeper.

He slid out of your mouth and hauled you up by your hair. “Come over here.” He snapped, voice hoarse as he led you over to infront of the mirror before rotating you so you were facing yourself in the reflection. You grimaced at your reflection seeing the build up of smudged makeup smeared across your face.

You pressed your hands against the cold glass of the mirror, looking at Jiyong through the reflection. He has his trademark smirk plastered on his face as he pulled your pants down. You felt the cold rings on his fingers against the skin of your hips as he slipped himself inside you.

He groaned as he felt your hot pussy around him, your walls clenching. He gripped your hips so hard he most definitely could’ve left bruises. He only got worse as he rammed himself inside you roughly, making your breasts bounce in the reflection of the mirror.

He reached one of his hands towards your jaw from behind and snapped your head up towards the mirror. “Look at yourself while you make me feel good.” He groaned. And so you did, making eye contact with him in the mirror before he threw his head back in pleasure.

Your palms were filled with sweat, making your hands slide up and down the mirror with each thrust as your eyes bore into yourself in the reflection. The sweat on your face glowing under the bright studio lights and your eyes were leaking tears as they got subtly more red by the minute.

You moaned and pushed back into him, you could see how good you both looked in the mirror together. Jiyongs muscular body slamming into yours, his arm muscles flexing as he gripped onto your hips even tighter.

“Yes baby just like that.” He sighed almost in relief as you pushed back into him. All you could do was take it as you whimpered and cried while he fucked you ruthlessly. You finally came, a loud moan escaping your lips. He slammed into you one last time before he came inside you, his cum decorating your insides.

You both slumped against the mirror, his heart hammering against your back as he gently kissed over the back of your neck.

Jiyong gently helped you up after he’d removed himself from you and led you to the couch. He pulled you down on top of him and snuggled into you.

“I’m sorry Jagi.” He said while peppering your jaw with kisses.

You shook your head “you don’t need to apologize I think we both needed it.”

He chuckled softly “I love you.”

“I love you too”

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Master list

[gds-daisy]

stuck by the glue

summary: the one where jiyong makes sure you’re okay when you’re sick

warning: graphic depictions of sickness, jiyong literally being the best husband known to man, fluff.

a/n: i started writing this when i was literally dying from my illness a month ago HELPPPP

You felt like hell on earth. On your day off of all days.

At first it started with a headache, but now it had been several days and the pain was still present in your temples. That wasn’t the only thing though. A few more symptoms had manifested—signs of a cold, a gnarly one at that. You had developed a nasty cough that made you feel like razor blades were attacking your throat and a stuffy nose that made you feel like you were underwater. The coughing was the worst bit. Not only did it give you a sore throat, but it also made your headache that much worse. You were suffering and there was barely anything you could do about it.

You had taken the bitter cough medicine that you absolutely despised and used your prescribed albuterol inhaler when your cough would flare up significantly. None of it worked. You felt like a prisoner in your own body and you felt hopeless. How long would this last? A few days? A week and a half? You had no idea. The only thing you could do right now was hope for the best as your body was currently strewn across the bed, used tissues alongside you. To make matters worse, your husband Jiyong was currently at the studio, recording a song for his new album. You yearned for his presence and would do anything to have him here right now. If he would’ve known you would get sick so quickly after he had left in the morning, he would’ve taken the entire day off to nurse you back to health. That’s what you loved about him. He was so loving and doting toward you in every sense of the word, which there was no denying.

All of a sudden, you could feel your airways become more tight as they were trying to take in more air. You quickly grabbed your inhaler from your bedside table, shaking it vigorously before taking a puff from it. You finally exhale and feel your breathing return to its previous state. Not for long you presumed. You groaned as you rolled around in bed, now throwing the soft blanket over your chilly body. You had accepted defeat at this point and the only thing you could think of was getting some rest. Not only was your body tired, but also your mind. You needed peace.

With each passing second, you found it harder to remain awake. Slowly but surely, your eyes began to close, an indication of just how run down you had become. Your eyes were now completely closed and you had dozed off entirely. If you had waited a few more minutes before going to sleep, you would’ve heard the buzzing noises emitting from your phone.

It was Jiyong.

Jiyong was worried beyond belief. He had been calling you over and over again with no such luck of reaching you. This wasn’t like you at all. You never let his calls go to voicemail. He was already a chronic overthinker and this wasn’t helping. He knew something was wrong. Or maybe he was reading too much into it? Either way, his mind wouldn’t let him rest until he knew what was going on. Today was a big day on set of filming his new music video and he knew productivity was important, but you were even more important. This could wait.

He had gone out to the set to announce the news that he would have to leave early. He was the creative genius after all. It probably wouldn’t sit well with most, which he felt bad about, but he wouldn’t be at his best with his mind racing like this.

“Attention everybody! Unfortunately a personal matter has risen that needs my immediate attention. We’ll have to postpone the shoot until further notice,” he shamefully admits to the entire cast. He could see the disappointment on their faces and it killed him. They shared the same passion he did when it came to the filming process. Jiyong could see that through their eagerness.

The entire crew bowed down out of courtesy for him to which he returned the favor. Even though they were somewhat bummed out right now, they understood that he was a human being just like them. With that, he starts walking briskly towards the exit, exhaling sharply as he does so. Before he knows it, he reaches the exit and opens the door before making his way out. He's met with the sight of his personal car parked in the street. Usually, his chauffeur was the one to pick him up from shoots, but he was currently occupied at the moment.

He wastes no more time before hopping into his car, starting the ignition as he does so. His concern was growing by the second and he couldn't stand another second of it. What if you were purposely ignoring him? What if he had upset you unintentionally? There were too many other "what if's" that came to his mind. His creative, overthinking mind. He wouldn't be at ease until he knew the reason why you were letting his calls go to voicemail. He prayed you were still at home because if you weren't, he would be in agony not knowing for hours if you were mad or not. The man was dying to know for sure.

Finally, he backs the car up, attempting to get out of the parallel parking job he had done. Luckily, there were no cars behind him, which was a surprise to him, but a good one nevertheless. He manages to back up far enough to have enough room to make a swing a sharp left, now driving like a madman.

The 20 minute drive from the studio to your guys' house seemed like ages to Jiyong. He had definitely broken multiple traffic laws along the way, but he couldn't care less about that. His main concern was you. He was now rushing out of his car, not even bothering to lock it in the process. Jiyong noticed that your car was still here, which was a relief to him because if you were actually upset with him, he would be able to smooth things out between you sooner rather than later.

He reaches the front door before instantly swinging it open. Once he steps foot inside the house, he surveys the area like he was some sort of wildlife expert. After a while of looking around with no triumph in locating you, he finally makes his way to your guys' bedroom. When he gets close enough, he notices that the door is slightly creaked open. He reaches his hand out, now pushing the door further back. The sight he's met with is distressful. There you were, strewn out on the bed with an army of tissues surrounding your unconscious body. Next to all those tissues were your inhaler and cough medicine. That's what concerned him.

You had been prescribed an inhaler a few months back due to respiratory issues that had arisen with the change in weather. However, it didn't feel like seasonal allergies. This was something different, even now. The doctor said to only use the inhaler when it was absolutely necessary. This wave of sickness was one of those times.

Even though Jiyong was relieved that his overthinking had been all for nothing, he still hated this. He hated knowing that this was your day off and you couldn't even spend it like you wanted to. He hated that you had to rely on all this medicine that probably didn't help all that much. He hated knowing you were in agony even if you were sleeping at the moment.

Jiyong inches closer to the bed before he sits next to you, the bed dipping a bit underneath in response. He took that moment to run his fingers through your messy hair, feeling a sense of guilt that he wasn't here sooner. At the same time however, he was just glad he could take the day off if it meant taking care of you.

Suddenly, he feels your body shift ever so slightly, which he was alerted to instantly. You roll over a few times in your sleep and before the two of you know it, your eyes flutter open. Your vision was a bit blurry at first, a result of opening your eyes a bit too quickly. Despite this, you could feel a hand nestled in your hair. Luckily, your vision was becoming more focused by the second. You didn't need your vision to know that it was your doting husband, your Jiyong.

"Hi jagiya, welcome back," he says with his adoring smile and his smoother-than-honey voice.

"What are you doing here Ji? I thought you were at your shoot," you question him.

"I was, but when you weren't answering my calls, I got worried and rushed over here as soon as I could," Jiyong answers honestly, his eyes still full of sorrow.

You felt your eyes prick at his words, feeling guilty as all hell. How could you allow this to happen? You made this doting man leave his shoot over you. You should've texted him sooner saying you were sick so this entire situation could be avoided in the first place. You felt even more horrible than you did before you woke up, but not physically. It was your emotions that had made you feel this way.

Like some sick joke, your body betrays you and now your eyes are flooding with streams of tears. "I-I'm sorry Ji. I made you all worried for n-nothing," your voice shaking in between audible sobs.

His hand, which was still tangled in between your locks of hair, found its way to your face, now cradling it. "Shh shh...it's okay, aein. You didn't make me do anything. I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you were okay," Jiyong coos, trying his best to reassure you.

"But your shoot-" you blurt.

"That can wait. You're my number one priority and you always will be," he says, his fingers wiping away your tears as best as possible.

"How did I get someone like you, Ji?" you ask.

"I should be asking myself the same question, jagi. But none of that matters. The only thing that matters is that we have each other," he says adoringly. "I'm going to take care of you until you're all better, I promise you that."

He moves his face closer to yours, his lips hovering over yours for a split second, but not for long. Before you know it, he presses his lips against yours and the whole world seems to fade for you. The kiss was filled with devotion and tenderness, the soft kind. Jiyong wanted to make sure you know how far he would go to fulfill his promise of taking care of you, through sickness and health. And that's exactly what this kiss was. A vow of his commitment. To you.

The kiss is finally broken before the two of you know it and all you can do is stare at his angelic face in awe. His eyes had softened and his smile grew even bigger. This man was the love of your life and you knew that for a fact. He was eternally yours and you were eternally his.

"You best hope you don't get sick from me," you say jokingly.

"It'll be worth it if I get to spend time with you, aein. Besides, you already made me sick...lovesick," he says with the cheesiest grin you have ever seen on ones face.

"You're a dork, Ji," you say before playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

[loveesiren]

𝘒𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘑𝘪𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘴. 𝘎-𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘏𝘊

This was an ask that I'm now obsessing over so here's some head canons. Enjoy ;) Read the original idea here! Part 2, perhaps? Feel like I didn't capture everything the ask said. I could do so much more ;)

Warnings: It's smut ya'll, MDNI, 18+

𝘒𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘑𝘪𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘨:

♡ Jiyong, who peppered soft kisses across your face, kissing you gently, enjoying the way your soft, plump lips felt against his

♡ Jiyong, who loved to cuddle. Pulling you close to him so he could take in your scent and nuzzle into your hair. Humming softly as he tightened his grip every few minutes because he just couldn't get close enough.

♡ Jiyong, who loved catering to you. Watching whatever movie you picked out, cooking you dinner, and always making sure you were comfortable.

♡ Jiyong, who when he desperately needed a release, made it a magical moment for both of you.

♡ Jiyong, who planted gentle kisses down your body, his hands exploring every inch of you as he savored your taste.

♡ Jiyong, who removed your panties slowly with his teeth, his fingers running softly down your legs as he did so.

♡ Jiyong, who spent half an hour between your thighs because he just loves the way you taste.

♡ Jiyong, who makes out with you slowly as he pushes inside you, exchanging moans within eachothers mouths.

♡ Jiyong, who sets a devastatingly slow pace because he loves to feel his cock drag along your tight walls.

♡ Jiyong, who asks "Can I cum inside you, baby?" As he brushes your hair out of your face, kissing you softly.

♡ Jiyong, who grabs a warm towel to clean you up afterwards and runs a bath for the two of you so he can clean you up properly before tucking you into bed.

𝘎-𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯

♛ G-Dragon, who comes home stressed and exhausted from long days at the studio.

♛ G-Dragon, who appreciates the way you're always wearing new lingerie when he walks through the door.

♛ G-Dragon, who's ready to make an absolute mess in the house you just cleaned.

♛ G-Dragon, who grabs you by the throat and forces you to look at him.

♛ G-Dragon, who tells you to open your mouth so he can spit down your throat.

♛ G-Dragon, who forces you onto your knees on the kitchen floor, quickly dropping his pants to let his aching cock spring free.

♛ G-Dragon who tells you to wrap those pretty lips around him.

♛ G-Dragon, who forces himself further down your throat because he loves the sounds you make when you can't breathe.

♛ G-Dragon, who cums down your throat but still isn't finished with you.

♛ G-Dragon, who throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom, throwing you roughly on the bed and ridding himself of any remaining fabric.

♛ G-Dragon, who flip your on your stomach, ripping your lingerie from your body because he's so fucking needy and will buy you a new set tomorrow.

♛ G-Dragon who stuffs himself inside you without the chance to adjust, setting a brutal pace as he fucks into you.

♛ G-Dragon, who holds your hands behind your back and calls you his "good little brat" as he pulls multiple orgasms from you, sending you into overstimulation.

♛ G-Dragon, who cums deep inside you, pulling out to examine that pretty pussy.

♛ G-Dragon, who scoops up any cum escaping that pretty pink pussy and pushing in back inside you because he loves filling you up.

♛ G-Dragon, who calls you his good girl and rewards you with a shower because you just make him feel so damn good.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

Tags: @kaylieiskrazy04 @fr3akyyg1rll @heuningpie @sapph1r3x @moondooll @tranquilty @noharaaa @mariaxman @dear-satan @infinetlyforgotten @staryscorner @blu-brrys @come-as-you-are-111 @nicklet94 @vamplivivi @3mma-lovely @hanadulsetaad @sayugarper @forevervibezzzz1 @shieraseastarrs @mooonologyy @skzdreamz @stillpervert @seunghyunwifey @juliskopf @mirahyun @mattsturniolosbabymama

[ikwon1c]

Midnight Rendezvous

characters: kwon jiyong x y/n

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough,” he whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure about that?”

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

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

“Ji—”

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Jiyong—”

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

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

You gasped.

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

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

You nodded breathlessly.

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

“I hate you,” you whispered.

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

And then his mouth was on you.

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

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

“Ji—”

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

And then Seunghyun shifted in his bed.

Jiyong froze.

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

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

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

You slapped his chest. “Are you insane?”

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mouth captured yours in a deep kiss.

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

Your heart hammered. “Ji…”

His forehead pressed to yours. “You sure?”

You hesitated but then you nodded. “Yeah.”

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

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

You swallowed hard, breathless. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm?”

You both froze.

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

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

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

Youngbae sighed and rolled over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You exhaled slowly, your hands sliding up his back.

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

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

“Ji,” you whispered.

Jiyong’s lips curved. “Yeah?”

“More,” you breathed.

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

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

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

“…Noona…more kimchi…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got you,” Jiyong whispered.

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

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

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

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, still breathless. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

You both froze.

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

“We’re dead,” you whispered.

Jiyong grinned. “Totally worth it.”

—

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

You were trying very hard not to think about it.

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

You flinched. “What makes you say that?”

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

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

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

You froze.

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

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

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

“Morning.”

You nearly choked on your coffee.

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

“Ji,” you said tightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi guys!”

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

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

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

“Suspicious?” Jiyong repeated innocently.

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

Chaerin’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, they—”

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

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

Chaerin snorted. “Sure.”

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

“You woke me up,” Seunghyun said flatly.

You went rigid. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jiyong just laughed. “No, you don’t.”

[breakmeoff]

you do somethin' (to me)

featuring: kwon jiyong x fem!reader warnings: swearing, smut: fingering, oral (f. receiving), mild sensory deprivation, soft dom!jiyong, praise and usage of 'daddy'. MDNI, 18+ only* word count: 1.8k (i swear one of these days i'll learn how to write an actual drabble lol) synopsis: while mindlessly scrolling socials after ji's concert one day, you spot a fancam image of him playing with the ties of his shirt in a rather provocative manner. pulling it through his fingers and then... pretending it was a blindfold?? after a quick text from you, he gets a devious idea and plans to take care of his girl the best way he knows how. note: this is my first time attempting a smau/fake text, and writing for jiyong, so be gentle please - sorry if he's at all ooc! also part of the Larie's Libations 200 Followers Celebration. this was a request by my sweet anon 🍵, whose selection is listed below, and was inspired by THIS FIT and move (about 35 sec in) during his Macau Day 3 performance. enjoy! thank you for reading! LARIE'S LIBATIONS - TNT (Tequila & Tonic) [Tequila] — Kwon Jiyong [Tonic] — Apartment [Citrus Rind] — Kink (Blindfold) Masterlist

Jiyong was nothing if not a man of his word.  Knowing this fact all too well, you smirked when his last message came across the screen of your phone.  From your spot on the couch, Zoa curled up beside you, you looked around your shared apartment and silently took mental notes of what you wanted to do before his return home the next day.

When tomorrow finally came, Jiyong turned his key into the front door lock and pushed it open, stepping inside.  “Aein!,” he called out, kicking his shoes off, pulling his suitcase in behind himself.

The first greeting he received came in the form of a chirp, Iye hopping off of the back of the couch to curl herself around Ji’s legs.  Bending down, he scratched behind her ears as you came into the room.  

“And here I was thinking you were calling for me…” you teased, slowly walking up to him as he lifted his head hearing your voice.  A dark smirk crept over his face as he stood back up, sizing you up and down.  

“Shut up and kiss me,” he replied, closing the distance between you before he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned down to press his lips against yours.  

Mumbling a quiet laugh against his lips, you fluttered your eyes shut and leaned into his embrace.  “Yes Sir.”

Jiyong playfully grunted at your response before angling his head to the side and parted his lips slightly, effectively deepening the kiss with a low moan.

Your arms lifted to drape around his shoulders while you followed his lead, unhurriedly savoring his touch once again.

Dropping one of his arms from your waist, he dug into his back pocket, retrieving something you couldn’t yet see.  Breaking your kiss, Ji leaned back to look down into your eyes, a devious look lingering in his.  “You trust me, right?”

Blinking your eyes open, you lifted an eyebrow curiously, unsure of where this was headed.  “Of course I do…”

“Good,” he stated, placing a brief kiss on your forehead.  “Now close your eyes.”

“...oh..kay…” you hesitated, slowly closing your eyes again.  

The next thing you felt was the cold, silken material brushing across your face, now resting over your eyes and a slight tug at the fabric once he had tied it securely at the back of your head.  Instinctively, you tried to open your eyes but met nothing other than thick, opaque black.  

And then it dawned on you.

“Seemed like someone really liked the idea of being blindfolded,” Jiyong whispered, his wet lips brushing against the shell of your ear before exhaling a burst of warm air against your skin.  “Couldn’t let my good girl down now could I?”

Your lips parted with a crooked smile on your face.  “Ji…” 

Making a disappointed tsking sound close to your ear again, he reached down behind you and with an open palm, harshly smacked your ass, causing you to jump and lean into him.  “You know better than that…” he mumbled, dragging his lips against the curve of your jaw.  “What’s my name?”

Heat flushed your cheeks and you yelped with the sting of his hand through your lounge shorts.  “Daddy.  Sorry, Daddy…” 

“That’s my girl,” he praised just before bending down slightly to reach behind your thighs, lifting you from where you stood with you draped over one of his shoulders.  A short laugh slipped past your lips in surprise, but did your best to stay still as he carried you into your shared bedroom with purpose.

Moments later, he tossed you back onto the king sized bed, causing you to lightly bounce against the mattress before settling.  Not giving you much time to relax, he grabbed the back of your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, feet now planted on the ground below you.

With one of his hands, he placed it firmly against your chest and pushed you back to lay flat.  Once he had you where he wanted you, without wasting another moment, he dropped to his knees and skimmed both hands up the outside of your thighs.  

As his fingertips reached the waistband of your shorts, Jiyong slowly pushed the fabric of your t-shirt up over your hips and stomach.  Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss just below your navel, and then littered them across to one hip before returning to center and kissing his way to your opposite hip.

The wet trail he left in his wake cooled when the air in the room touched it, causing a small shudder to course down your spine, and your skin to erupt in goosebumps at the sensation.  Watching you react to even just that small gesture encouraged him even more to take care of you.

Hooking his index fingers into the waistband of your shorts, he began pulling them down, laughing darkly once he recognized you had no panties underneath.  “Eager, Baby?”  He teased, pulling the fabric down your legs and tossing it haphazardly to the side.  You blushed at his accusation, and you chose not to reply as he pushed your legs open.

Now with you fully exposed to him, he sucked in a breath at the sight before him.  Already wet for him, he groaned, bringing the tip of one of his fingers to tap on your clit once, your body jerking beneath him.  “Ah ah… stay still,” he warned.

Bringing his pointer finger to join his middle, they simultaneously began feather-lightly tracing your outer lips, appreciating the silkiness of your soft skin.  “So pretty like this… spread out for me…” he mused, using those same fingers now to spread you further apart, allowing him a better view of your pussy and those inner walls pulsing, looking for something to clench around.

“Fuck… look at that… you miss me while I was gone Baby?”  Still, he hadn’t come any closer other than to stare directly into your most sensitive parts, hungrily.  

“Yes Daddy,” you exhaled, “always.”

Finally, approvingly, Jiyong leaned in, his tongue extending flat as he drug a long stripe up along your pussy, groaning into your pink skin.  Your body instinctively tensed below him, a soft moan slipping past your lips.

He had intended to take his time, savor your sweet taste, but the moment he had your familiar slick coating his tongue, he groaned helplessly and brought the tip of his tongue to roughly flick against your clit.  Wrapping his full lips around your sensitive bud, he began suckling relentlessly, simply addicted to the flavor of you and the sweet noises you made.

“Oh my God… ffffuuuhh…” you whimpered, legs bending at the knees with his assault against you.  Your hands began grasping for something to hold on to, one landing on his shoulder and the other the top of his head, fingers carding through his soft pink hair.

Shifting one of his hands to smack the inside of one of your thighs sharply, he mumbled roughly against your cunt “I told you to stay still.”  

Whining at the sting, you scraped your fingers against his scalp, a tear threatening to spill from your lash line beneath the blindfold.  “I..I’m sorry Daddy.  Feels so good…”  

“I know, Baby,” he said, licking once more against your entire pussy, causing another shiver to roll through you.  “Promised I’d make you feel so good.”

Desperately, you nodded your head, and the hand that was previously on his shoulder fell to the bed beside you.  Just before you were about to open your mouth and beg for more, Ji brought his free hand up to his mouth, lewdly sucking two of his fingers to get them wet before teasing your entrance.  With no other warning, he slowly pushed them both in simultaneously.

A loud moan fell from your lips and you arched your back from the sensation of his long digits filling you so well.  “Fuck Daddy,” you exhaled, just as he moved his hand in a new direction, allowing those same fingers to curl inside you at the perfect angle to make you cry out.

Jiyong’s lips wrapped back around your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking against you roughly before he started suckling again.  Your hand now on the bed grasped frantically at the fabric below, fingers digging into the comforter, trying to find something to hold onto as your boyfriend’s mouth made a mess of you.

His lips and tongue began moving obscenely, slurping and sucking at your juices, shaking his nose and lips against your sensitive skin first up and down and then in a side to side motion.  All you could do at this point was lay there and take it.

Switching his fingers from an in and out motion, thrusting into your twitching inner walls, they now curled to the perfect spot, soft and spongy, and just far enough inside of you to make your vision go white and exhale a filthy, loud moan.

“Shitshitshit, fuck, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum…” you cried, breath catching in a broken moan as your fingers gripped harder at his hair and the bedding below, desperately trying to ground yourself in any way you could.

“Cum for me baby girl, cum all over Daddy’s face, let me feel all of it,” Ji said against your pussy, the pressure of his fingertips pressing into you at the perfect pace. With two last long flicks of his tongue against your clit, you broke.  

Back arching, fingers digging into his scalp hard enough to break skin, toes curling, muscles tensing.  Jiyong sucked, kissed, licked and fingered you relentlessly through your entire release, prolonging it as long as he could, utterly addicted to the way you fell apart for only him.

Finally, you slumped back against the mattress with a sob, your chest heaving in a mixture of trying to catch your breath and feeling so overwhelmed.  Ji’s fingers slowed their pace, barely moving in and out of your pulsating pussy, trying to help bring you back down.  He placed soft, lingering kisses against your clit, outer lips, pubic bone, and down the top of both of your inner thighs.  

Once he felt your breath calming, and your body relaxing under his touch, he removed his hand from you and rubbed both of his hands soothingly against your inner thighs.  Sitting up higher on his knees, he leaned over your reclined frame and reached for the back of the blindfold, untying the fabric and releasing it from your face.  

With your tear-filled eyes blinking open to find his own now much softer expression, you laughed lazily, reaching for one of his hands to grasp within yours.  “Thank you…” you mumbled as he crawled up onto the bed, hovering over you, his mouth and chin still wet with your slick. 

Leaning up, you kissed him desperately, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, both arms reaching up to pull him flush against you.

Jiyong leaned back, and kissed your jawline softly before he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, laying on top of you in a warm embrace.  “Thank you for trusting me and always being mine.”

my tags: @angel-writes-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine @pixie-felix @d3kstar @lveegsoi @ebnabi @nebugalaxy @babystay724 @mmarusa @imagine-all-the-imagines @erisuna @beabidoobee @hanniesbubuwife @bbykaixx @riri53 @jinniesgirl @alx-wyjsr @skzswife @hwangjoanna @stephanieeeyang @minnysproutgriffinteddy @jqtsblyth @magicshuhua @loveesiren @szonyix6277 @seungttttop @moontabi

[moontabi]

Can you write Jiyong eating you out for the first time? Ty

ofc lovely hope you enjoy <33

SO GOOD

kwon jiyong x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content ahead including pet names, dirty talk, cunnalingus, bed humping, overstimulation. desperate/pathetic ji

Jiyong couldn't believe it; your legs were thrown over his shoulders, and his face was wedged between your legs.

Dazed looking up at you in awe, desperately begging with his eyes for you to let him have you.

You only nodded before he was already quickly diving into your clothed cunt, opening his mouth and kissing it over the fabric of your panties, making you gasp and throw your head back against his bed.

His warm lips and hot breath against you felt incredible, and he hadn’t even started eating you out yet.

Jiyong on the other hand, was melting from your scent, the heat from your pussy making him groan and pull your thighs closer to him.

He frantically grabbed onto the sides of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with force. Nearly tearing them in the process, but Jiyong didn't care; he’d buy you new ones. all he cared about was tasting your perfect pussy that he’s spent so much time fantasizing about.

“I can't wait to taste you.” Jiyong practically moans.

You stare back at him with desire, whimpering and furrowing your brows in anticipation.

Jiyong’s fingertips softly brush your inner thighs as his tongue shoots out to finally taste you for the first time. In response, you let out a loud moan, thrusting your hips forward and causing your clit to bump against his nose.

“Fuck, Ji!” you gasp.

“So needy…” he mumbles against you. “Its okay. I promise I’ll take care of you baby.”

Jiyong pulls your legs apart in an attempt to get at every inch of you as he greedily laps at your core.

“Oh god, Jagi…I can't get enough of you.” His lips are now wrapped fully around your cunt. rough-sucking it before repeatedly flicking it with his tongue.

Just before your jaw falls open completely, you catch your bottom lip with your teeth, biting it roughly in hopes to quiet down.

“You taste like heaven,” he whines, the vibrations sending even more pleasure inside you. You sound like a broken record, practically screaming bloody murder as you tug on Jiyong’s soft strands of hair, continuously chanting his name as he pulls you apart.

“I can't live without you,” he groans against your skin, not bothering to pull back. “Or this sweet little pussy.” you nod desperately. “Jiyongie m’ gonna-” His tongue swirls around your clit harshly, teasing the sensitive nub before plunging deep into your wetness.

“Almost there, baby. Just let go and come on my face.” You cry out and squeeze your thighs tightly around his head, holding his head down as he devours you. You can tell he liked that because he moans again, his hips grinding desperately against the mattress for some kind of friction.

He could cum untouched like this; he could stay between your legs for hours if you let him. rock hard in his sweats, edging his poor cock as he slurped on your pussy.

You tasted better than any of his fantasies could have imagined. Nothing could compare to the real thing. You’re perfect in his eyes. You give Jiyong’s hair one last tug as you come undone on his tongue, your whole body jerking as your juices coat his mouth and chin.

Jiyong’s eyes nearly roll back into his head as he feels your warm liquid coat his tongue, “Holy shit.” he groans, happily collecting as much as he can. your whole body is buzzing with post orgasmic pleasure.

You whine and try to pull yourself away as he continues to lick your slit mercilessly, still dragging his tongue up and down your folds.

“Jiyong please! Im so sensitive.” His hands move up to hold your hips down, and his voice is filled with need.

“But you taste so good.”

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ tags: @mashtatosworld @loveesiren @szonyix6277

[saymonsays]

Got you stuck on my body, like a tattoo

pairing: kwon jiyong x reader

wordcount: 15k | alexa, play 'one more night' by maroon 5

Summary: He can’t stop thinking about you. You're not just a hookup. You're a tattoo in human form—something that stays.

warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, dom!jiyong x sub!reader, one night stand, lots of teasing i guess lmao

‎

‎Saturday night. Low lights. Velvet sounds of a bass-heavy song humming from the speakers. The kind of night where the air feels heavy with stories waiting to happen.

‎

‎You sit at the bar—alone but not lonely. A glass of something amber rests between your fingers, untouched. You’re waiting for your friend to get off their shift, but time feels irrelevant when you look the way you do.

‎

‎Your dress is long, black, elegant. High neck, sheer sleeves. The back? Lace—barely there. A whisper of skin visible down to your lower back. It’s subtle, but Jiyong saw it.

‎

‎Oh, he saw it the moment you walked in.

‎

‎He’s been sitting in his usual spot, two seats away, nursing a drink he forgot to taste. His rings clink against the glass as he shifts. He doesn’t even try to hide the way his gaze drags down your silhouette. You’ve noticed. You don’t look at him yet, but you know he’s watching.

‎

‎Then—

‎

‎He moves.

‎

‎He slides into the empty seat beside you, smooth and unhurried. Leans against the counter with a lazy smirk and orders something he doesn’t care about. Just to sit near you. Just to be noticed.

‎

‎You glance at him. Finally. A beat too slow, like you knew it would matter.

‎

‎“Nice tattoos,” you say, voice like velvet and smoke. Your eyes flick to the ink curling up his forearm, disappearing under the sleeve of his button-down. Black, rolled just enough to tease. He chuckles, low and amused, and turns to face you.

‎

‎“You like them?” he asks. His voice is soft, but there’s a weight behind it.

‎

‎You shrug, take a sip. “Depends. Got any good stories behind them?”

‎

‎“A few,” he says. “But the better ones haven’t happened yet.”

‎

‎There it is—the line that makes your lips curl in amusement. The way he watches you now is different. Focused. As if undressing you with his gaze is a casual habit, not a sin.

‎

‎You tilt your head. “You always this smooth with strangers?”

‎

‎“Only the ones in lace-back dresses.”

‎

‎Your laugh is soft, but your eyes stay on him. Matching. Testing. Inviting.

‎

‎He offers you a drink. You say yes.

‎

‎By the time the ice melts, your knees are touching.

‎

‎By the time your friend walks out to greet you—you’re already telling them, “I’ll text you later.”

‎

‎You swirl the last sip of your drink, eyes locked on Jiyong’s as if he’s already a memory you’re trying to memorize. He leans in just a little, elbow propped on the bar counter, voice dipped in that lazy rasp of his.

‎

‎“You always let strange men flirt with you this long?”

‎

‎You grin, chin tilted toward him. “Only when they look like sin with good tattoos.”

‎

‎He hums, clearly entertained. Then—he tilts his head, gaze slow, deliberate, eyes dragging over you with full intent.

‎

‎“I live a minute away,” he says. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

‎

‎You blink once. Slow. Let it hang.

‎

‎“And?”

‎

‎His smirk deepens.

‎

‎“And I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes thinking about how that lace would look on my bedroom floor.”

‎

‎Your stomach flips. His tone? Filthy. His eyes? Honest.

‎

‎“You always talk like that?”

‎

‎“Only when I mean it.”

‎

‎That’s all it takes. No more pretense.

‎

‎You stand up, graceful. He’s up right after you, walking side by side down the quiet street lit by flickering lamps and the hum of the city around you.

‎

‎His hand finds the small of your back—low. Lower. Thumb slipping along your spine, almost possessive. You feel heat bloom across your skin. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to.

‎

‎You reach his building in seconds, heart pounding like it’s been sprinting.

‎

‎The elevator door slides open. You step in. He follows.

‎

‎The doors close.

‎

‎Silence—just for a breath.

‎

‎Then—

‎

‎Jiyong moves.

‎

‎One hand on your cheek, the other sliding down your back again—this time under the lace. His mouth crashes into yours, hungry and hot, tongue tasting like heat and need. You respond instantly—fingers fisting into his shirt, pressing your body into his as his lips part yours wider, deeper.

‎

‎His teeth graze your lower lip. His hand grips your waist like he’s claiming it.

‎

‎Ding.

‎

‎The door opens.

‎

‎You stumble into the hallway, half-laughing, breathless, still tangled in each other. He barely fumbles with his key, kisses you again while unlocking it. The door slams behind you.

‎

‎And just like that, you’re in his space.

‎

‎His world.

‎

‎And it’s about to get a whole lot wilder.

‎

‎The door shuts with a heavy click.

‎

‎You're both still panting, swollen lips barely an inch apart. Jiyong’s hand lingers at your waist, thumb grazing your bare skin where the lace ends. His eyes search yours—not for permission, but for restraint.

‎

‎He steps back. Just a bit.

‎

‎“Shoes off,” he says, voice thick.

‎

‎You toe them off slowly, watching him. He watches you right back—hungry eyes trailing over the way the dress hugs every curve.

‎

‎“Want a drink?” he asks, moving to the kitchen but not really giving you space to answer.

‎

‎“Sure.”

‎

‎You follow, feet padding silently on the floor. He pours something dark into a glass—hands you one. The air between you crackles. You take a sip, eyes never leaving his.

‎

‎“You always bring girls home like this?” you ask, feigning casual.

‎

‎His lips twitch.

‎

‎“I don’t usually get lucky enough to meet someone who makes backless lace dresses look like a crime scene waiting to happen.”

‎

‎You nearly choke on your drink, laughing. “Wow.”

‎

‎“Truth,” he says, stepping closer again. “You walked in, and I swear—I thought I imagined you.”

‎

‎His fingers trail along your back again, just brushing. Like he’s memorizing the curve. Like he doesn’t want to rush.

‎

‎“You planning on imagining me all night, or...?”

‎

‎He hums. Leans in.

‎

‎“I’d rather trace every inch of you first. Then maybe… tattoo the memory.”

‎

‎You feel it—deep in your gut. That slow unraveling. Like every nerve is being strummed.

‎

‎You’re pressed against the kitchen counter now. His hand cups your jaw, mouth inches from yours again.

‎

‎But he doesn’t kiss you.

‎

‎No.

‎

‎He just... hovers.

‎

‎Waits.

‎

‎Like he’s daring you to make the next move.

‎

‎Your breath is shaky. The tension’s unbearable.

‎

‎Jiyong's fingers tighten around your jaw—gently, but firm enough to say don't move. His thumb drags across your lower lip, slow. Measured.

‎

‎“You gonna let me taste you,” he murmurs, “or do I have to beg for it?”

‎

‎You barely nod before his mouth is on yours—hot, messy, hungry. His kiss isn't a question. It’s a declaration. Like he’s claiming you for every second you ghosted through his mind before tonight.

‎

‎He lifts you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble shocking against your thighs as he nudges the skirt of your dress up.

‎

‎“Lace,” he mutters against your throat, “and no panties. You’re a damn menace.”

‎

‎You tilt your head back, gasping as his mouth drags down your neck, tongue teasing, teeth scraping. He kneels—right there on the cold tile—and spreads you with those tattooed hands like he’s about to worship.

‎

‎And he does.

‎

‎Tongue slow, deliberate. Deep.

‎

‎He licks through your folds like he needs it to survive, like this is the first taste of water after weeks in a desert. Your hands grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white as he sucks your clit, hums low in his throat, then plunges two fingers inside—crooked just right.

‎

‎Your legs shake.

‎

‎“Shit, oh my gosh—”

‎

‎He looks up at you, mouth shiny, lips curved. “You taste better than sin, baby.”

‎

‎Then you come.

‎

‎Hard.

‎

‎Back arching, hand flying to your mouth to keep from screaming, thighs closing around his head—but he doesn’t stop. He wants the aftershocks. He chases them.

‎

‎“Not done with you,” he rasps, standing and lifting you like you weigh nothing.

‎

‎He carries you—your dress hiked up, chest heaving, body limp with pleasure. The moment he drops you onto his bed, he peels the lace off your shoulders and throws it to the floor like it offended him.

‎

‎His inked body is lit by moonlight filtering through the blinds—muscled, lean, and trembling for you.

‎

‎He climbs over you, eyes locked with yours.

‎

‎“This isn’t just a night,” he says quietly. “This is me making sure you never forget me.”

‎

‎Then he sinks in.

‎

‎Slow.

‎

‎Deep.

‎

‎Stretching you until you're gasping and digging your nails into his back.

‎

‎Jiyong groans as he pushes all the way in, hips flush against yours. He stills there, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours.

‎

‎“Fuck… you feel so good,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “So warm. So fucking perfect.”

‎

‎Your hands run down his back, nails dragging lightly along his spine. He starts to move—slow, deliberate thrusts, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

‎

‎“You like it slow, baby?” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, your neck. “Want me to take my time with you?”

‎

‎You nod, too breathless to speak.

‎

‎He rocks into you, deeper now. Every roll of his hips drags a gasp out of your throat, his pelvis hitting your clit just right. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, holding him close, locking him in.

‎

‎"You're mine tonight," he breathes into your skin. "Right? Say it."

‎

‎“Yours,” you whisper, arching under him.

‎

‎His hand slides under your thigh, gripping tight as he starts moving faster—deeper. The bed creaks under you, the air thick with heat and sweat and the sound of skin on skin.

‎

‎“Fucking look at me,” he pants.

‎

‎You do. Eyes wide, dazed, hazy with lust.

‎

‎He kisses you—sloppy and desperate, all teeth and tongue—then pulls back just enough to watch your face as he fucks you.

‎

‎“You’re unreal,” he says. “Like a dream I didn’t know I had.”

‎

‎Your moans are getting louder, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing that edge.

‎

‎“I’m close,” you gasp. “oh my gosh—”

‎

‎He grips your chin, makes you look at him. “Come for me. Right now.”

‎

‎You fall apart beneath him, trembling, crying out his name as pleasure tears through you. He fucks you through it, then chokes out a curse as he follows—deep, hard, moaning your name into your neck.

‎

‎When it’s over, he collapses beside you, chest heaving.

‎

‎You lie in silence, tangled in each other, skin damp, breathing heavy.

‎

‎But the peace is short-lived.

‎

‎Because when Jiyong wakes up the next morning—

‎

‎You’re gone.

‎

‎No note. No number. Not even a name.

‎

‎Just the faint scent of your perfume on his pillow.

‎

‎And he’s never been haunted like this in his life.

‎—

‎Jiyong wakes slowly, the sunlight streaming through the cracks in his blinds, warming the cool sheets. His body aches in that good way—the kind of ache you get when you’ve been thoroughly fucked. He stretches, groaning softly, and reaches out for the warmth beside him.

‎

‎Nothing.

‎

‎His eyes snap open, and the empty space beside him is a punch to his gut. He sits up, the blankets falling away from his chest, a sense of dread settling in his stomach.

‎

‎Where are you?

‎

‎His mind races—last night, the bar, the walk back to his apartment. The way you kissed him, the way you fit so perfectly under him. But now, it's as if you vanished into thin air.

‎

‎"Shit," he mutters, rubbing his face with both hands.

‎

‎He swings his legs off the bed, his feet hitting the cold floor. His head feels heavy, foggy from sleep, but that’s not what’s bothering him. What bothers him is the deafening silence in his apartment. The absence of your body next to his is louder than anything he’s ever heard.

‎

‎He stands up and heads to the bathroom, splashing water on his face, trying to shake off the nagging feeling in his chest.

‎

‎Nothing.

‎

‎No note. No sign of you anywhere. Just the lingering scent of your perfume and the heat of your body still in his sheets.

‎

‎He checks his phone, hoping for a message, but there’s nothing. No text. No missed calls.

‎

‎"Fuck," he curses, running his hands through his hair.

‎

‎He grabs his shirt off the floor, throwing it on, then rushes out of his apartment. He stands outside for a moment, breathing in the cool morning air. His mind is spinning. He can’t focus, can’t think straight.

‎

‎What the fuck happened?

‎

‎Last night, it was so fucking good. But now, it’s like you just disappeared. Like a ghost.

‎

‎He walks down to the elevator, his phone in hand, trying to pull himself together. His thoughts are a mess. Why the hell didn’t she leave a number? Why didn’t she say goodbye?

‎

‎But what really haunts him is this:

‎

‎You made him feel something. Something deep. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

‎

‎And now you're gone.

‎—

‎It starts off casual. A conversation with his bartender friend.

‎

‎“You saw her, right?” Jiyong mutters, spinning his glass of soda absently. “Last Friday night. Lace-back dress. Sat at the end of the bar.”

‎

‎The bartender raises a brow. “You know how many girls wear lace to this place?”

‎

‎“Yeah, but she—” he cuts himself off. No use trying to explain. “She was different.”

‎

‎He checks the bar again the next night. And again. And again.

‎

‎He scrolls through socials. Nothing. He doesn't even know what to search.

‎

‎One day, he thinks about asking the bar’s CCTV footage—but he doesn’t want to seem desperate.

‎

‎Until it eats him alive.

‎

‎He opens Instagram. Searches local tagged photos from that night. Scrolls. For hours.

‎

‎And then—there’s a picture. Blurry. Taken across the bar. She’s not even the subject. Just background. A flash of her back. That lace.

‎

‎Jiyong zooms in.

‎

‎“Got you,” he whispers, heart racing. “Now I just need your name.”

‎

‎The blurry photo gives him just enough.

‎

‎A tag on the post. Someone who was there. A friend of a friend, maybe.

‎

‎Jiyong doesn’t hesitate—he messages the person who posted it.

‎

‎hey. random but do you know the girl in the back of this pic?

‎

‎He stares at the message. Deletes it. Rewrites it with a little charm.

‎

‎hey! this might sound weird but i’m trying to find someone and i think she’s in the background of your photo from the bar on friday. any chance you know her?

‎

‎It takes hours.

‎

‎He nearly gives up.

‎

‎Then:

‎"Oh, that’s Juwon’s coworker. Why?"

‎

‎“I think she left something important,” he replies, vague. “I’d like to return it.”

‎

‎Half-true. She left a mark on him he’s not sure will fade.

‎

‎Eventually, someone gives him a first name.

‎

‎Then a profile.

‎

‎It’s private.

‎

‎No posts. One profile pic—blurry, distant. But it’s her.

‎

‎He debates sending a message. Fingers hover over the keyboard.

‎

‎Hey. We met the other night at the bar... You probably didn’t mean for it to happen like that, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

‎

‎Delete.

‎

‎Too intense.

‎

‎Hey. I think you left something at my place.

‎

‎Lame. And a lie.

‎

‎Finally, he just types what he means.

‎

‎I know it was supposed to be one night. But I can’t get you out of my head. Can we talk?

‎

‎He hits send.

‎

‎Then stares at the screen like it owes him a miracle.

‎Your POV

‎The sheets are tangled around your legs.

‎Warmth lingers on your skin, but the other side of the bed is cold.

‎

‎Jiyong had stirred at some point, pulled the blanket higher over your shoulders, kissed your shoulder in his sleep.

‎

‎You should’ve left then.

‎

‎But you didn’t want to. Not yet.

‎

‎Now, golden morning light filters through the sheer curtains, soft and unbothered by the chaos that had happened the night before—kitchen counters, bedroom moans, lace bunched on the floor.

‎

‎You sit up slowly, dragging a hand through your hair.

‎

‎His scent is all over you. Musky, dark, citrus with something you can’t name but want to keep. You glance back at him—still asleep, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, lips parted just enough to remind you of last night.

‎

‎God.

‎

‎You exhale shakily.

‎

‎It wasn’t supposed to be like that. One drink, one night, no names.

‎But you hadn’t expected him to be so soft when he held you, so gentle in the in-betweens.

‎Or to kiss you like he’d been waiting for you.

‎

‎You tiptoe around the room, collecting your things.

‎Dress—wrinkled.

‎Shoes—under the couch.

‎Dignity—somewhere in the sheets, probably.

‎

‎Your hand hovers over the kitchen counter. A pen. A sticky note.

‎

‎You almost write something. Your name. A number.

‎

‎But you don’t.

‎

‎You can’t.

‎

‎If he knows who you are, things get complicated.

‎If he looks you up, remembers where he’s seen you before—the bar isn’t the only place you’ve passed through his world.

‎

‎You know who he is. Of course you do.

‎

‎You just pretended not to.

‎

‎And now you’re pretending you’re brave enough to walk away.

‎

‎Your phone vibrates. Your friend is downstairs, waiting in the car. Perfect timing. You open the door quietly, take one last look at him, and leave without making a sound.

‎

‎Later That Week…

‎

‎You’re scrolling through Instagram when a DM pops up.

‎

‎@peaceminusone

‎I know it was supposed to be one night. But I can’t get you out of my head. Can we talk?

‎

‎Your stomach flips.

‎

‎You hadn’t expected him to try.

‎

‎Your thumb hovers over the screen.

‎

‎Typing…

‎

‎Backspace.

‎

‎Typing again.

‎

‎Should you ghost him? Should you risk it?

‎

‎But the truth is…

‎You haven’t stopped thinking about him either.

‎

‎You stare at his DM for a full five minutes.

‎

‎You type.

‎

‎“You’re not supposed to remember me.”

‎

‎Backspace.

‎

‎You type again.

‎

‎“It was just a night.”

‎

‎Backspace. Backspace. Backspace.

‎

‎Your thumb taps the screen again—faster this time, like if you hesitate, you’ll chicken out.

‎

‎“I didn’t mean to disappear. I just… thought it’d be easier.”

‎

‎You pause. Inhale. Exhale. Your fingers hover.

‎

‎Then, with a kind of reckless honesty:

‎

‎“But I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.”

‎

‎Send.

‎

‎Delivered.

‎Read.

‎

‎You swear your heart skips when the typing bubble pops up almost instantly.

‎

‎“You thought it’d be easier to haunt me like that?”

‎

‎Typing…

‎

‎“You left like it meant nothing. I thought maybe it was nothing to you.”

‎

‎Typing…

‎

‎“But now you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about me too?”

‎

‎Typing…

‎

‎“Where are you.”

‎‎“Come back.”

‎‎“I don’t care if it was supposed to be just one night. I’m not done with you yet.”

‎

‎You stare at the screen.

‎

‎Jiyong's words pulse in your chest like a heartbeat you’ve been ignoring.

‎

‎You type slow this time.

‎

‎“It wasn’t nothing to me.”

‎

‎Send.

‎

‎Typing…

‎

‎“I just didn’t know what it was supposed to be.”

‎

‎Send.

‎

‎“But I think I want to find out.”

‎

‎And after a pause — short, nervous, honest:

‎

‎“Send me the address.”

‎

‎[7:15 PM]

‎

[‎Dropped pin]

‎

‎“I’ll be waiting.”

‎

‎You don’t even change. Just grab your keys, your bag, and leave your apartment like something is pulling you by the wrist.

‎

‎The moment you see him again, standing just outside the door of his building — black tee, tattoos peeking at his neck, eyes locked on you — it’s like time folds.

‎

‎You stop in front of him. He doesn’t say a word.

‎

‎Then:

‎“I knew you’d come back.”

‎

‎And then he’s pulling you into him, mouth crashing into yours — familiar and feverish, just like the last time, but heavier now.

‎More urgent. More real.

‎

‎Like neither of you are letting the other vanish again.

—

Author's note: no cuz when i saw a one more night jiyong edit on tiktok, i knew i had to write LMFAO i had to fucking edit this for the 9th time because the pictures kept on glitching omfg

[gdinthehouseee]

Valentine's - Part 2: KWON JIYONG x READER

summary: before the night comes to an end, jiyong can't keep his hands or his tongue off you...

word count: 2624

tags: SMUT; oral (f receiving), body worship, praise, switch dynamics, unprotected p in v sex, fluff, emotional vulnerability/intimacy

ao3 link + part 1

“Do you even realise what you do to me?”

“I could say the same about you.” 

“Good. Because I’m craving something much sweeter.”

Within a matter of minutes—as much as it felt like seconds—you were laying on your back in the bedroom, clothes fully discarded after being dumped in the trail Jiyong had practically carried you through the penthouse. The only thing left on you was the necklace he had just gifted you. He was trailing kisses from your knee to your thigh, revelling in the way you were already spreading your legs for more. 

“Jiyong…”

“I love it when you get like this,” he began. “All impatient and needy for me.”

“Ji, baby, I swear if you don’t hurry up and fuck me—”

That earned you a surprised laugh before he continued. “As you wish.”

He wasted no time in lowering himself onto his stomach between your legs, continuing to kiss the inside of your thighs, unable to resist biting and sucking a little. How could he hold back when you had practically thrown your legs over his shoulders? Desperate for a reaction, he brought one hand up and his middle finger circled your clit, almost painfully slow. 

“Is this what you want?”

You couldn’t answer—you could barely think. His mouth was between your legs before you could catch your breath, and the first press of his tongue made you cry out, your fingers flying to his hair. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer.

“That’s it,” he rasped, tongue flicking cruelly over your most sensitive spot. “Let me hear it. Let me hear who you belong to.”

He kept going until you were shaking, thighs closing around his head, his fingers pumping in and out of you while his tongue was practically glued to your clit. But he didn’t stop. He liked you like this—overwhelmed and wrecked by nothing but his mouth. When you finally came undone for him, back arching, hands gripping his shoulders like you might fall through the floor—he kissed your inner thighs like a vow, now using his mouth to clean you up. 

But both of you knew this was only the beginning.

Your thighs are trembling. His name is a broken sound on your lips. He’s still between your legs, lips glossy, chin wet, and eyes glinting with something wild and possessive as he slowly drags his tongue up one final time just to feel your entire body shudder for him again. And then he pulls back. Not far. Just enough to sit up on his knees, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them wider as he looks down at you with the kind of expression that makes your heart flutter and your core clench all over again.

“Look at you,” Jiyong murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction. “Already came so hard for me… and you’re still shaking.”

He smirks, dragging his thumb across your inner thigh. “But that gorgeous body of yours is still begging for more, isn’t it?”

You don’t answer right away, still breathless and reeling. 

And that won’t do.

He leans over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other strokes between your legs again—not quite touching, just skimming, making your hips buck helplessly.

“Say it,” he murmurs lowly. “Tell me what you want.”

You whimper, blinking up at him, voice soft and cracking. “Jiyong…”

He dips just enough to ghost his mouth over yours, not kissing you. Close enough to make you ache for it. “That’s not an answer, princess. I need to hear you ask nicely. Beg me for it.”

Your hands twist in the sheets. He’s hard, pressed against your thigh, and clearly holding back.

“…Please,” you whisper, breath catching. “Please just fuck me already.”

But he still doesn’t move. He grins—wicked and sweet all at once. “Mmm, not good enough. I just made you fall apart with my mouth, didn’t I? I think I deserve something better than just ‘please.’ Try again.”

The teasing lilt in his voice is maddening, and the longer he hovers over you, denying you, the more your body throbs with need.

“Please, Jiyong,” you try again, voice shaking. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me. Please.”

“There’s my good girl,” he growls as he finally grabs your hips, lining himself up but still not pushing in. “Beg me one more time. Let me hear how much you want me.”

Your voice comes out desperate now. “I want you so bad. Please, Jiyong. I can’t take it anymore.”

He groans low in his throat, something primal overtaking him as he finally thrusts into you — all at once, deep, filling, and absolutely devastating. Your gasp gets swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you fiercely, rolling his hips slow and deep.

“That’s it,” he pants against your lips. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”

And now that he’s inside, all that patience is gone. He sets a rhythm that makes you see stars, every thrust knocking another breathless cry from you.

“You beg so pretty,” he growls, gripping your hips tighter, dragging you against him like he can’t get close enough. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

You’re barely able to speak now, babbling his name as he fucks you into the mattress — and he drinks in every sound, every tremble, every arch of your body.

“Fuck, Ji—” 

“Say it again,” he growls in your ear, fucking you harder. “Say you need me.”

“I need you,” you gasp. “I need you— fuck, Jiyong— please—”

He kisses you hard, swallowing every last syllable as he thrusts deeper, harder, more desperate until you're crying out all over again, completely ruined; completely his.

The sheets are tangled, your skin slick with sweat, and your thighs are still trembling from the orgasms he’s pulled from you. You’re breathless, boneless, and burning. Beside you, Jiyong’s chest rises and falls, his arm draped lazily over his eyes, lips curved in a satisfied smirk. His chin glistens from where he buried himself between your legs, and the sight of it sends another pulse of heat through your core.

You don’t know what makes you move first—maybe the way your body still aches for him, or maybe the way he looks so smug and in control—but you roll onto your side and straddle him in one slow, confident motion. He startles just slightly, arm falling away so his eyes can drink in the view of you on top of him, bare and flushed, back arched like a goddess carved from heat and need.

“You look like you want to devour me,” he says, voice thick and amused, still breathless.

“Maybe I do,” you murmur, your voice dipped in sultry teasing. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

His smirk deepens. “Oh? Gonna take what you want now, jagi?”

You grind down once—slow and deliberate—and the reaction is immediate. His half-hard cock twitches against you, and his breath hitches through his teeth.

That’s all the permission you need. You lean down, lips brushing his jaw, your tone playful and dark. “I like it when you make me beg,” you whisper. “But I like it better when you fall apart for me.”

He’s still for a beat too long—like you’ve stunned him. Then, slowly, Jiyong sinks further into the mattress, eyes heavy with something heady and electric. His voice is hoarse, reverent. “You’re dangerous when you talk like that.”

You smile, all soft and wicked, as you reach between you and guide him back inside you with practiced ease. The stretch is just as intoxicating as before, and the sound he makes—deep, broken, wrecked—sends a thrill straight through your spine.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hands balling in the sheets as your warmth wraps around him. “You’re trying to kill me.”

You start to roll your hips—slow and intentional, keeping your gaze locked on his. The rhythm is yours now. Each motion deliberate, each shift of your weight calculated to make him twitch and groan beneath you.

And Jiyong… he’s unraveling beautifully.

His hands twitch, fighting the urge to take control again, but you press your palm flat to his chest, pinning him down with just enough pressure to make your point.

“Nuh-uh,” you whisper, your breath brushing his lips. “You’re gonna let me ride you. Be good for me, Jiyong.”

His eyes widen slightly at the command—but then something dangerous and delighted flashes behind his lashes. His voice drops to a gravelly hum. “Yes, princess.”

And just like that, you roll your hips harder, and his head falls back with a moan that sounds like surrender.

“You look so goddamn good riding me,” he groans, hands finally rising to cup your thighs. He holds you like he’s anchoring himself to something solid in a sea of pleasure.

Your hands find his chest again, fingers splayed over sweat-slick skin as you move faster now. The friction, the pressure, the fullness builds and builds, and your moans melt into one another until you can barely catch your breath.

Jiyong’s watching you through hooded eyes—continuously looking between the way the necklace catches the dim light on your chest, and the way you’re practically bouncing on him—mouth parted, completely wrecked. 

“Keep going. Use me. Come on me. Show me how bad you need it—” 

“Shut up and keep going.” 

He lets out a half laugh and half moan at your command. “Yes, ma’am.” 

The way he says it makes you clench around him, hips stuttering. He feels it—his moan hits the air like it’s ripped straight from his lungs.

You bite your lip, chasing your high, breath ragged. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your skin now, almost trembling with restraint. You’re close, so close, and the way he watches you—like you’re the most powerful, divine thing he’s ever seen—pushes you right to the edge. Naturally, he knows before you can even say anything. 

“Do it,” he rasps, pushing up into you with just the right force. “Let go, baby. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And you do. 

Your entire body tenses, your cry breaking through the room as you come hard around him, shaking as you ride it out. Your hands clutch his chest, grounding yourself as your rhythm stutters and falls apart.

But Jiyong’s not done.

He flips you gently onto your back, taking control at the very last second, thrusting into you hard and deep as he chases his own release. “Fuck, you’re unreal,” he groans, eyes shut tight, voice full of awe. “So perfect, so fucking perfect—”

And then he spills inside you with a deep, guttural moan, collapsing over you as he kisses you breathless, pouring everything into that moment.

The room is thick with warmth and the scent of sex under the last traces of your perfume, soft city lights spilling through the windows, illuminating the curve of your bodies tangled in silk sheets. Your heartbeat is still heavy in your chest, but your breathing has evened out, syncing with his.

Jiyong lies beside you, his arm wrapped possessively around your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s still catching his breath, lips pressing slow, reverent kisses against your damp skin like he’s trying to savor every second of your afterglow. You run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, nails gently grazing his scalp. He hums at the contact, his entire body relaxed and heavy against you; a man undone and fully content.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice thick and slurred with exhaustion. “You’re gonna kill me one day, y’know.”

You laugh softly, still breathless, grinning as you shift closer. “At least you’ll die doing what you love.” 

His lips curl into a slow, hazy smile against your skin. “Loved every second,” he mumbles. “Loved the way you looked at me like you owned me.”

You press a kiss to his temple. “I do.”

That earns you a quiet chuckle and a little hum of satisfaction as he pulls the covers higher over both of you. 

“Next time… you’re in charge from the start.” He mutters sleepily. 

“You mean you’ll let me tease you until you beg?”

He lets out a low, throaty laugh and turns his head just enough to meet your mouth in a soft kiss. “If this is how you ride me when you’re in control? Jagiya, I’ll get on my knees and ask nicely.”

You kiss him back, slow and smug, then murmur near his lips, “Good. Because next time, I’m bringing the cuffs.”

He freezes for a moment and then groans, dragging a hand down his face like he’s already imagining it. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“I meant it.”

The teasing dies down slowly, but the silence that follows doesn’t feel empty. It’s heavy with something else. Something quieter. Something real. You feel it shift in his breathing first: the rise and fall slower now, a little deeper. One of his hands drifts lazily along your waist, then stills, fingertips tracing invisible shapes on your skin like he’s grounding himself.

His voice, when he speaks next, is softer. “I… don’t always let people see me like that.”

You blink, caught off guard by the change in tone. He’s still facing you, his eyes darker now—not with lust, but something more vulnerable. His fingers continue their idle tracing, but there’s tension behind it. Like he’s not sure he should be saying this.

You reach up and touch his cheek gently. “Like what?”

He swallows. “Like that. Needy. Out of control. Wanting so much I can’t think straight.” He hesitates, then laughs under his breath. “You probably don’t even realize what you do to me.”

Your heart thuds from the weight of his honesty. You shift closer, brushing his hair back from his forehead, your voice soft. 

“It’s okay to want. It’s okay to be… soft. Needy. All of it.”

He closes his eyes like he’s letting that sink in.

“I’ve spent years keeping a tight grip on everything,” he says quietly. “My image. My emotions. My control. Being with someone who sees through it… it’s terrifying. But also… freeing.”

You nod, feeling your own throat tighten.

“I get that,” you whisper. “I’m used to having to be put-together all the time. Strong, sharp, guarded. But with you? I don’t feel like I have to pretend.”

His eyes open slowly, locking onto yours, and for a moment it’s like the world narrows to just the two of you. Your breaths, your hearts, your hands reaching for one another without hesitation. You cup his cheek, and he leans into your touch.

“I like you like this,” you say softly. “When you let go. When you let me take care of you.”

He exhales, voice low. “You’re dangerous.”

You smile. “I know.”

He laughs, then pulls you into his chest, arms curling around your back like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmurs into your hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Another kiss. This one slow, deep, the kind that says more than words. You lie there together, his hand stroking up and down your spine occasionally catching the back of your new necklace, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest. Outside the penthouse windows, the world carries on—but here, time feels still. Eventually, he speaks again, a little lighter now. 

“We should take a bath soon. I wanna hold you in the water.”

You smile against his neck. “And then you’ll feed me chocolate strawberries and whisper sweet things in my ear?”

“I’ll feed you everything,” he murmurs. “Strawberries, kisses, praise…”

You giggle. “Maybe I’ll let you hold me hostage here for the whole weekend.”

“Oh, I was already planning on it,” he says, eyes slipping shut. “You’re not going home until Monday.”

taglist: @emmiesoverthemoon @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @babyrvis @eru-vande @breakmeoff @petersasteria @aizshallnotbefound @sevendaysummer @ttturnitup @mashtatosworld @ilovethe141 @heartubeatusalon @ninnys @lilshu65 @allthoughtsmindfull 

[jedisupernova]

compress, repress (part iii) — kwon jiyong & choi seunghyun

summary betrayal is irreversible. secrets, in theory, can be kept. but not when cowardice gets in the way.

notes minors dni contains challengers au (for my girls who know: the churro scene, inclusion of 'i told ya' shirt,) fem reader, unabashedly plus size reader as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the mid 2000s (hence mentions of certain music, technology, media, etc.), everyone is a college senior, tennisplayer!jiyong and tennisplayer!seunghyun; reader is head of debate team, smut (oral f receiving, p in v, whimpering, sub!seunghyun, pathetic behavior, nipple play, squirting,) angst (all three are at times depicted as not the greatest of people, infidelity, inferiority complex, keeping secrets, severed friendships, deception, greed, lying, yearning, arguments and fights, accidental injury, seunghyun is a shit-stirrer, selfishness, possessiveness, insecurity; this is just messy as fuck,) i don't know anything about professional sports so pls don't laugh at me, if you went to stanford and are reading this no you're not, and inevitable typos though some are intentional.

author's note welcome to part iii of my challengers au!!!! shit is about go Down fr. a brief disclaimer: these are only characters; in no way do i claim either would act this way in real life. please read the previous parts (linked below) or else you will very confused! this is about the same length as part ii (long as fuck) so get comfy. please lmk what you think!! my ask box is always open :) see you next friday for the fourth and final part 🎾

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

were you an overthinker? sure. well . . . it is your most viable asset on the debate stage. sifting through someone’s argument as it actively deflates their lungs, plugging it through various filters and equations in your head—the result being a reliably succinct, a-through-z rebuttal in a matter of a minute. but when alone, and on the train home no less? it's like a parasite, gnawing away at your last bits of logic. you didn’t necessarily regret what you did, but the question of what do i do now? stuck out like a sore thumb, distracting you from scenic views of the distant beaches, houses you’ll never be able to afford, and expansive forests. upon arriving home, you figured you would use winter break as time to not only decompress, but figure things out. piece by piece, day by day—in the solace of your bedroom, in the mundaneness of doing laundry and unpredictable preparing for the holidays—away from stanford. you answered jiyong’s texts with no issues, skirting around your complex feelings with a quick I miss you too ji baby and Gtg shop 4 xmas dinner. calls were trickier, though. it would cause suspicion if you weren’t available to talk whatsoever, so you took one for the team from time to time. the fact you thought of it that way told you everything you needed to know.

much to his fortune, seunghyun figured it out, too. “how’s the missus?” he asked jiyong, eyes casted on perfecting his spoonful of macaroni and cheese, bringing it to his mouth afterward. his tone was casual and unassuming—perfect for christmas dinner at the kwon household, but also amongst two friends just checking in on one another. seunghyun turned his head, hearing their parents banter in the kitchen. jiyong got comfortable next to him on the couch, fingers tugging at the bunched-up hem of his sweater, other hand holding his water. “everything good with you two?” seunghyun’s word choice was diabolical, considering he was nose deep in your pussy a week and same change ago, and he tugged his dick to the memory of it just as santa claus descended down his chimney. “yeah, we’re good.” said jiyong, “we haven’t talked that much lately, though. she’s been busy with, y'know, her family.” seunghyun nodded, listening. ghosts of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, thinking of how you and him were on the phone just before he got there, and every night since exams ended, too. “makes sense.” said seunghyun. “it is the holiday season, after all.”

“how was dinner, hm?” you asked, lifting your shoulder to keep the house phone to your ear, folding your outfit away from your family dinner. it was around an hour after either of you returned home. seunghyun laid comfortably in his bed, “really good.” he ran his fingers through his hair, arm relaxing behind his head. “food was fuckin’ amazing. how about you, baby?” “mine was good, too.” you closed your closet door, able to hold the phone with your hand now. you sat on the edge of your bed, a sigh escaping your lips, “a little chaotic, but you know how that goes.” he chuckled, nodding. “i do. jiyong told me something real curious, though.” “he did?” “mhm,” seunghyun cleared his throat. “he said you guys haven’t talked in, like, three days? i thought you went to your aunt’s for christmas.” your face warmed, “i mean, i did go there.” “well,” seunghyun’s tone was smooth and playful, smile heard through the phone. “i’m obviously missing a piece of the story, baby. because we’ve been talking for three days straight. what’d you tell him?” “i told him she lives across state lines, meaning a multiple-day road trip with choppy cell service.” “right.” “well, he probably thinks i’m still on the road.” “does your aunt live far?” “she lives four blocks down. walking distance if i’m up for it.”

you heard him snicker. “am i the worst person in the world?” “not worse than me.” he countered, adjusting his grip on his blackberry. “i mean . . . i was the one that asked him about you. i called you 'the missus’ and everything.” an amused scoff left your lips, pinching the bridge of your nose, hiding your smile behind your hand. “we’re horrible people.” “once you accept that, it sets you free.” he told you, a hearty laugh ringing from his chest. he heard your bed creak, your soft and satisfied hmph after settling your head into your pillow molding his lips into an upside down grin. “i miss you, y'know.” he spoke gently. “i can’t wait to see you again.” you smiled sheepishly to yourself, grateful he wasn’t able to see you at that moment. “i miss you too, seunghyun.” “y'know,” his voice brought you back to him. “it was hard for me to keep quiet last night—” “—we are not doing this on my parents’ landline.” you cut him off with a brisk laugh, though your toes curled around nothing atop your duvet.

seunghyun took his phone away from his ear. he rolled the trackball, lighting his screen, seeing it was half past midnight. “it's late enough. they’re probably asleep.” he said, turning onto his side. “plus, it's not my fault you don’t have enough minutes to talk on your cell.” “and it's not my fault you wanna be all whiny about it.” you countered, chuckling. “its serves you right to be told 'no,’ too.” “i like it when it's you.” “i know you do.” something in you knew seunghyun was still in his mood. with how he was getting you there, too, you checked to see if the small screen on the house phone read Conf.—indicating someone was listening to the call. you let out a small breath of relief, reading Talk with the duration of the call underneath—the coast was clear. “y'know,” here he goes, your inner monologue said. “it's a shame we’re apart for so long 'cause i’m forgetting how you taste. might need to go in a second time. or a third. or a fourth. maybe a fifth.” “maybe? just maybe?” you asked, voice smooth. “you were really greedy in your car.” he kissed his teeth, fingers toying with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “nah, baby.” he kissed his teeth. “i wasn’t greedy enough.”

you let out a sweet laugh, turning to lay on your back. “noted.” you said. “i’ll clear my schedule.” “you better.” he smiled. “i gotta a lot of time to make up for.” comfortable silence washed over the line, landing you somewhere you knew you would get to eventually. “i’m breaking up with jiyong when we get back from break.” you told seunghyun, hearing his hum of acknowledgment. “do you think he’ll take it well?” “yeah.” he answered earnestly, nodding though you couldn’t see him. “maybe not initially. but he’ll be okay.” “what was his last break-up like? if you remember.” “i do.” said seunghyun. “he took it out on the court and didn’t talk about it again. i can’t blame him. things don’t really work out in his favor sometimes.” your chest sunk, hiding your face behind your palm in shame. “this is going to suck so bad.” “its better than stringing him along and fucking his best friend on the side.” “i know but i already—” you cut yourself off with a sharp tsk. cheated on him, your inner monologue finished for you. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, though seunghyun felt it nonetheless.

“whatever. forget it,” you brushed it off. “what does this mean for us then, hm? don’t make me feel stupid for asking this.” “i would never.” seunghyun shook his head, honest. a smile brightened his features, “i mean . . .” his voice trailed sheepishly, “i thought you already knew.” “i don’t feel like solving one of your riddles right now, seunghyun.” he was quick to clarify, smiling real damn hard now: “like you said in the car, i have a really big crush on you. i hope you have one on me, too.” “we’re seriously doing confessions after you fucked the shit out of me?” “we did it before!” he exclaimed louder than he intended to, face warm and cheeks hurting from his smile. “b-before we—” “—i know, i know.” you chuckled. “i’m just messing with you.”

“do you have a crush on me, though?” “to think,” you tutted playfully. “you’re the same person who talked to me like he takes his third leg on daily walks when we first met.” seunghyun buried his face into his pillow, “just answer the question, baby.” “of course i do. who wouldn’t?” you said. “it means more coming from you.” your heart warmed, “i know it does.” you continued, “you know we can’t tell him, right? at least not yet.” seunghyun���s eyebrows fluttered in and out of a furrow, “so we have to sneak around? in case mommy and daddy catch us?” “i mean, do you want to tell him?” you challenged, met with anticipated silence. “i thought so. let me figure it out.” “okay, okay.” he couldn’t fight his yawn—how long he’d been up for the holiday catching up to him. “i trust you, baby. i’d take it to my grave if you told me to. i feel you reconfiguring my moral compass as we speak.” “i guess that’s just what good pussy does.” “you said it, not me. but you’re more than that, though.” “oh, i forgot—you’re a card-carrying feminist.” “proudly.”

jiyong’s smile didn’t make it easier. he was over the moon to see your beautiful self again, walking into your dorm. his kiss made it all the more apparent: “hey baby,” his tone was so doting it stirred guilt-induced nausea in your chest, feeling his fingers find yours. he pulled you into him, you inhaled sharply through your nostrils, sudden surprise hidden well by his lips molding against yours—remembering right, that’s how boyfriends greet their girlfriends. you tried to distract yourself, kissing him back in a way that earned his hands rubbing your lower back soothingly, humming in satisfaction once his arms made residence around your waist. “how’ve you been, hm?” he asked. “i’ve been good.” “yeah? c'mere.” jiyong re-connected the kiss slowly, nudging his nose against yours sweetly, savoring the moment. your hands traveled up his chest, his head tilting to the left once your palms found either side of his neck, kissing you deeper. despite the bitter voice in his head telling him he was inadequate in other places, nothing held the power to deny him that he knew what the fuck to do with that mouth of his.

he gently parted his lips from yours, doting on your cheek next. you had to stop yourself from leaning back in, compensating by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, pulling one another into a warm embrace. “i missed you so much. i wish we could’ve spent new year’s together, at least.” “i know, jiyongie.” your fingers combed through his hair, “i missed you too.” “how was the train back?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your soft jawline. “i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever.” “since last year.” you joked, feeling the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. “since last year.” jiyong affirmed. though it was only the first week of the spring semester—and both yours and jiyong’s final one at stanford—it didn’t mean either of your schedules let up. though coursework hadn’t intensified yet; senior theses were due in a few months time, the collegiate tennis season was kicking into high gear in the coming weeks, and prep for the national debate tournament before spring break was in full-force. not to mention, both you and jiyong had respective practices tonight, too. it never ends.

“the train was okay.” you told him, feeling him hum against you, a sweet kiss left in his path. “long, though. but nice. how about your flight? any turbulence like last time?” “thankfully, no.” jiyong lifted his head, lips pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your nose, eyes meeting yours. “well, i mean—seunghyun and i just slept the entire time. so if it happened, i’d have no idea.” you hated how the mere mention of his name made you panic. “really?” your eyebrows raised as if jiyong’s anecdote was an earth-shattering revelation. “it's tough for me to sleep on transit like that. you’re lucky.” jiyong shrugged his shoulders, oblivious. “i guess growing up traveling for games helped out.” jiyong spent the latter part of your shared afternoon like it was any other day: running his thumb over the back of your hand, telling you what he did over break, and peppering sweet kisses on your temple when you were talking. you, on the other hand, were working against an invisible timer. everything you practiced to say, everything you thought of faded closer to your periphery every time his eyes twinkled in your direction—the same way they’ve always done since you first met. it didn’t feel good, knowing how he’d leave your dorm differently than when he came . . . but it’d be worse if it was way farther down the line, your inner monologue reasoned, it's the least i can do for him. i’ve done enough, already.

jiyong’s face fell. “wh—what?” his voice went quiet. “i-i thought . . . i thought things were going good between us?” “it's just that—i just don’t think i see myself being in a relationship right now. like, i’m just not in the headspace for it.” “is there anything i can do to help?” he rested his hand atop yours, a ghost of a grip on your fingers. “i—i can back off,” he nodded, hoping this was the answer. “give you space.” “i don’t think that’s going to work, jiyong.” your tone was apologetic, sincere—only for him to hear. your hand left his, fingers fixing his hair before your palm settled onto his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone dotingly. “i’m sorry.” you whispered. his shuddered breath of defeat wasn’t for the weak. he turned to your touch, trying to hide his face. “it wouldn’t be right to string you along.” you told him, voice gentle. “not with all the love you have to give.” he sniffled, holding his tears in. perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly, or this was the clearest his brain has ever been—he leaned in, but you didn’t lean away. jiyong kissed you as softly as his unspoken plea. what was he asking for? he didn’t know. forgiveness? if so, then for what? not knowing you didn’t want to be in a relationship when you smiled in a way that made him want to topple empires for you? pity? perhaps it was that, considering how he didn’t hesitate to prod your tongue with his once your hand found the back of his neck—jiyong deepening the kiss.

“please.” he whispered meekly against your lips. “i’ll do anything.” once you felt his hand on your thigh, you took your lips away—pulling out the hard stops, reminding yourself why you invited him over in the first place. “that’s enough.” you spoke definitively. jiyong’s forehead fell against your temple. you kept your composure, “its over, jiyong.” you couldn’t give him another way in, turning your body to face forward, leaving him contactless next to you. you shouldn't have reached to fix his hair, but you and jiyong were over and done with now for sure—especially if you were the one cementing it into place. jiyong was beside himself, “what do i keep doing wrong?” he thought aloud. “i can’t speak for the other people you’ve dated.” you said. “the one’ll find you. its just not me.” jiyong scoffed, albeit weakly: “that’s what you think,” he said. “you haven’t even asked me when i think.” you took him up on his point, looking at him. “okay, then. what do you think?” “that i’m a nice guy who doesn’t deserve shit not working out.” he grumbled bitterly, eyes casted on your duvet. an angry tear fell through the cracks, his fingers hastily wiping it away. there it is. one of the nails in the coffin, you thought to yourself. “and i told you i love you.” “over text.” you clarified, hoping he would see your point. he didn’t: “yeah, but i told you.”

you kept your stance, not in the mood for any additional whining: “you need to be a lot more secure in yourself, jiyong. you have so much going for you, don’t waste your time making yourself the enemy.” you said. “it’ll work out one day. it just happened to not be with me.” he fell silent. you saw his eyes become glossier than before, “we can stay friends if you want.” your apologetic tone returned, though you meant your words. “i do, if it makes you feel any better. we should stay friends.” you corrected yourself. jiyong lifted his head, looking into your eyes. his hurt was palpable, “i don’t think i can stay just friends with you.” he said. your expression faltered slightly. a sympathetic grin graced your features, looking at him in a way that felt like he was the only man in the world. “you need to try.” you told him. “for me.” it took jiyong a moment, but he put his pride aside. he nodded, inhaling through his nostrils, blinking away his stubborn tears. “i will.” he spoke with conviction. “you know i’d do anything for you, right?” “i do,” you looked into his eyes. “that’s the best thing about you, jiyong.” one look at his best friend and seunghyun knew you’d done it. since the universe had a crude sense of humor, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, too: Debate ends at nine. Come over after? he wrote back quickly, putting his phone away after jiyong set his duffle bag down: yeds.

jiyong was quiet. he mumbled something under his breath whilst doing his stretches, inhaling sharply through his nostrils after retrieving his racket from its case. tuning out their teammates dispersed throughout the athletic center’s indoor courts, seunghyun performed his service motion—thwwacckk!—effectively starting jiyong’s round of drills, as they have historically always started with him. the first set focused on his back and forehand swings, hitting the ball back to seunghyun without issue throughout those twenty shots. his recovery step was steady as he ran side to side, zeroed in like he was trying to distract himself from something—which he was. for seunghyun’s turn, jiyong served the ball with such unexpected strength that he had to skirt off to the side, dodging it. he gave jiyong a look: “dude?” “my bad.” jiyong muttered, going to grab another ball without a second thought. “if you’re gonna kill me, might as well tell me why.” seunghyun joked, hoping to lighten the mood. he walked up to the net, beckoning jiyong over with a subtle wave of his hand.

“y'know you can talk to me, ji.” “i know i can, seunghyun.” “it’ll be a waste of practice if you’re pent up like that.” “i know!” jiyong snapped. “okay? i know that. you don’t need to remind me like i’m someone’s dumbass kid.” seunghyun didn’t flinch. he gave jiyong space to breath, to pace around with his hands on his hips—a parallel to their routine bickering growing up; a testament to their respective knowledge of one another’s ticks. though seunghyun knew why jiyong was upset, he had to ask. after all, it was the brotherly thing to do. “talk to me, ji.” jiyong came to a halt, looking up. “we broke up. okay? that’s what happened.” seunghyun’s eyebrows furrowed—in another life, i’d make a good actor—“what? why? i thought things were going okay with you guys?” “that’s what i said.” jiyong shook his head. “but i guess not.” “what’d she say?” seunghyun kept his tone casual. “y'know, when she—” “—she said she couldn’t see herself in a relationship right now.”

seunghyun’s face warmed, “oh.” he nodded. he quickly ran his hand over his face, effectively stifling his amused grin. she and i really aren’t much different after all—“whatever that means. right?” “no, it makes sense.” jiyong countered. “even if i don’t agree with it, i’ve got no choice but to respect it.” “you’ll find someone better, anyway.” “i don’t know about that, man.” with that, jiyong returned to his side of the court without saying another word—his serve much less intense this time, but still holding a hefty bite. he didn’t mention it again, giving seunghyun a polite nod of thanks before heading to the showers after practice ended. the sight of his best friend looking in his eyes flashed before him prior to you opening your door, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop seunghyun from walking inside, and with a smile no less.

he slipped the condom on, tossing the wrapper into the small trash bin lodged beside your desk. you laid on your stomach in your bed—so naturally pretty, but more importantly comfortable—ass over the edge of your bed, feet on the floor; arms crossed on the duvet, your temple resting on your wrists. a long exhale of satisfaction left your nostrils, feeling seunghyun knead either of your beautiful—fucking gorgeous globes. his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, relishing over how his hands—as big as they already were—just barely were able to hold them. he tapped your right one lightly, a sound of approval leaving through his teeth at how your skin recoiled. you weren’t having it: “i know you can do better than that.” he smacked harder, hearing your gasp. you failed to bite back your pleased smile, “that’s more like it.” you giggled sweetly. his hands pushed your shirt up, palms dotingly rubbing your lower back, tenderly cascading over your rolls—carefully watching his fingers run over your stretch marks. he took his sweet time. he hasn’t seen your entire body yet, but he felt lucky from the proximity alone. to think that sculpting was invented to immortalize bodies like hers, he wasn’t sure if he remembered that fact from the art history gen-ed he took his freshman year correctly. but as far as he was concerned, it was the whole truth and nothing but. shit, i’d go to war for and build temples for her, too . . .

“i can still smell ji’s cologne in here, yknow.” “yeah?” “yeah,” seunghyun leaned down. he nudged his nose against your temple, wordlessly asking for you to turn your head towards him; another silent plea in his chaste kiss. you obliged, feeling his lips linger before kissing yours. his breath was warm against your pores, “needed me that badly, huh?” “don’t get too proud.” you said casually. you backed up an inch, hearing his breath hitch, your ass pushing against him. “f-fuck…” he sputtered, tightening his grip on your hips. “you forget how to spell words when you get all excited.” you referred to his typo from earlier. you felt and heard seunghyun chuckle into the back of your neck, coinciding with your sweet laughter. “i think i still have his hat.” you thought aloud. “for real?” said seunghyun. “mhm.” you hummed. “in the closet, maybe. on the top shelf?” seunghyun walked to the other side of your dorm, pulling the doors of your closet open. he peered up at the top shelf, smirking upon spotting the stanford tennis baseball cap lodged on top of a folded sweater.

you heard him walk back, though you didn’t feel him return behind you. you looked over your shoulder, “where did you—oh.” seunghyun was stood in front of the mirror mounted above your dresser, adjusting the cap to sit backwards on his head. “you’re horrible.” “you’re not telling me to take it off, though.” he pointed out coolly. you were stubborn, “you’re still horrible.” “you are, too.” he countered. his body warmth returned behind you, palms fondling either side of your lush waist. he leaned down to your ear, “'cause you don’t want me to talk it off, right?” it was quiet, but he heard your breath shake. “you’ve made me an honest man, so i’ll tell you that i don’t wanna take it off. is that okay with you? yeah, baby?” “yes.” you swallowed, eyes fluttering closed, mindlessly pushing your temple against his mouth. seunghyun obliged, pressing a kiss. “better fuck me like you deserve it, though.” you told him lowly. seunghyun smacked your left globe hard and unabashed, earning a hum of approval from you. “i will.” he said. he held the base of his cock, pushing his tip between your puffy lips. “you better tell me if something’s wrong.” “you’re always so self-referential.” you giggled—quickly humbled by his slow, yet delectable stretching of you out.

you spread your feet apart, allotting additional room for him, but also for you to settle in more comfortably. seunghyun caught on, “that—that better for you?” he asked, licking his lips, trying to keep his senses tangible through your gummy walls gradually swallowing him. he heard you hum in response, “push my back down. just a little,” he listened diligently, palm pressing your lower back. “maybe he can get you deeper—a-ah!” you gasped sharply. seunghyun was entirely inside, and in fact, deeper. he was completely still, trying to catch his own breath. your moan wasn’t helping. “o-oh fuck!” you whimpered in utmost satisfaction. your muscles relaxed yet you couldn't—your unsolicited wriggling sending fragmented words to his throat, resulting in a wince turned cough. “this is j-just what i—fuck!—this is just what i fucking needed, holy shit.” you bit your bottom lip, sitting up on your elbows. you turned your head, eyes peering at him in your periphery. “this alone would’ve made you a m-mom if it weren’t for the c-condom—sh-shit. . .” his licked his lips, eyebrows furrowed whilst his throat deflated into an impaired, withering whimper. “can i move? fuck, h-how are you so—” “y-yeah—yes.”

seunghyun was fighting for his life. his grip on your hips and sound of his pelvis clapping against your ass would argue otherwise—but the look on his face? with every thrust, his mouth fell more stupidly; head cocked back, visor of the baseball cap rubbing against his neck. his rhythm was consistent—purposefully egged on by your cries of pleasure and breathy encouragements, albeit fragmented from just how fucking good he was fucking you. “this is—this is j-just what i needed, s-seunghyun—ngh!” you never thought in a million years your voice could reach the pitch it just did. but with seunghyun in the picture, it felt as if anything was possible at this point. you bit your lip, taking whatever he gave you with warm welcome, not complaining whatsoever over being spoiled rotten—like you fucking deserve. “o-oh fuck!” was all he was able to conjure, slowly looking down at the scene before him. his eyebrows furrowed, breathing through his mouth, face contorting into one of pathetic sin.

his hips were relentless and strong; the athleticism on full display—watching and feeling your cheeks bounce like water in his palms. “oh fuck!” he prolonged his syllables, voice cracking. “oh f-fuck, baby—” he stopped to re-adjust himself, widening his stance to swiftly lean down to your temple, resuming his intoxicating pace soon after. you gasped, hand instinctively going into his hair, knocking the hat off his head and onto the duvet, keeping him close to you. he kissed the end of your cheekbone, lips staying there whilst he fucked you in the way you liked. “y-you’re so fucking deep,” you told him. your lips parted, eyebrows furrowed deeply and eyes squeezed shut, “feels so fucking g-good.” “oh yeah? am i?” his voice was low. the shakiness in his tone was telling, “do you—o-oh fuck yeah!” he cried out vulnerably, hips stuttering when you clenched around him. he thrusted back in hard, gifting him your relaxed posture and shaky hum of approval—melting into your libido. seunghyun leaned forward some more, hoping his next move wouldn’t strain your neck. “come here,” he pleaded. his hand came to your cheek, turning your head, meeting his lips with ease. he kept your lips together as he pounded into you again, internalizing the sound of your voice breaking against his. at some point, you couldn’t retain focus anymore: “oh f-fuck!” you cried out. “just like that seunghyunnie, just like that—” your wall-shattering gasp startled your hallmate walking past your door, laundry basket in hand, sheepishly scurrying away upon realizing you weren’t in danger whatsoever.

january and february went by faster than expected. it was the rhythmic hustle: wake up, go to class, bury your head in either your laptop screen and lined notebook paper, sleep—repeat. your senior thesis was coming along well, preparation for the national debate tournament in san francisco was steady, and you and seunghyun were practically undetectable. on days where your respective schedules aligned, he set up shop on the carpet beside your bed, solving equations and whatever the fuck for his coursework with nothing but grid notebook paper and his mechanical pencil like it was nobody’s business. perhaps it was adaptability on the tennis court manifesting in other areas of his life, because he was able to study coherently just about anywhere. the only non-negotiable was his ipod nano his parents got him for christmas—wired headphones playing either frank sinatra or wu-tang clan; there never was an in-between, mostly. he got up after a few hours, stretching his arms generously over his head. he took the two strides to your desk, gently ushering you out of your concentrative bubble with a hand on your shoulder, dotingly rubbing down your back when you turned to him with a quiet “hm?” “m'getting panera for dinner.” he said. he leaned down, lips finding your temple before your cheek. “what do you want, hm? you need to take a break.”

when you were over at seunghyun’s apartment, he cleared his desk for you in his bedroom. if he didn’t have a roommate, he would’ve made a key for you to come and go as you please. you lodged there for however long you needed: writing your senior thesis, tweaking outlines of affirmative and negative arguments written by your teammates, answering emails—anything. seunghyun learned the pacing of your schedule relatively quickly, often manifesting in keeping track of the time for you. you were twelve pages deep in an assigned reading, keen on starting its accompanying assignment after the debate meeting this evening. seunghyun returned from the kitchen, knocking on his open bedroom door, “baby?” you looked up from your highlighter. “it’s 6:45. you’ll be late if we don’t leave now.” “shit, really? okay, give me a minute.” you stood from his desk chair, packing your laptop and other materials up. when you slung the left backpack strap over your shoulder, you froze. “oh my god.” seunghyun’s face dropped a little, seeing the look on your face. he walked over, taking your backpack from you, carrying it himself. “what? is everything okay?” “i almost forgot.” you looked at him. “we start drills this weekend.” “drills?” “we—we sort ourselves into pairs,” you walked out of his bedroom, him following closely behind. “and we’re randomly assigned either the affirmative or negative for a case, and we debate each other.” you explained, pushing your feet into your shoes. “there's—there’s logistics involved. i was supposed to plan it today.”

seunghyun was quick to reassure: “it’s okay,” he unlocked the front door, ushering you to lead the way to the elevator. “you have time to do it tomorrow— even with your presentation for democratic theory.” he said before you could counter. “you can do it. i know you.” he opened the passenger’s door for you, safely tucking your backpack away in the backseat. he put his key into the ignition, backing out of his usual parking spot at his apartment complex, “the world doesn’t have shit on you, y'know.” as time went by, seunghyun wasn’t necessarily worried about your anticipated telling of jiyong. he wholeheartedly meant it when he said he trusted you completely—if i’m lucky to enough to be loved by the divine feminine herself, then i’m more than fortunate enough to trust her—and he’d rather pull his hair out one by one than be the one to tell him. on top of that, you didn’t give off the vibe of playing in his face. your stress-induced under eye bags from your workload said enough. after all, who was he to take initiative after the job’s already been taken? to his fortune, anyway, he was too busy being in love to give it much thought. he was willing to take your shared secrecy to the grave. call it delusion or devotion—he was serious. all he needed was your voice of reason to bicker with and your pussy to eat, and he’ll die a happy man.

though it was an impending eventuality, the messier side of seunghyun couldn’t help the question: does jiyong need to know? like, does he need to know that when he waved to jiyong as he did his warm-ups before practice, the reason why seunghyun was blinking so hard was because you sucked his dick so good he was trying to clear his vision even a half hour later? does jiyong need to know why seunghyun’s developed a habit of tugging at the hem of his shirt, because he so often fixes yours when the fabric bunches between the bottom of your back and top of your ass? or when he’s nervous—like before his singles game against ucla—he’s started pacing in the locker room, mentally reviewing his planned plays whilst mindlessly rubbing the tip of his ear, because that’s how you’ve lulled him to sleep before? and does he really need to know that when he invited jiyong over for dinner to catch up after a hectic start-of-the-semester apart, you were in the same chair as jiyong a couple nights ago, offering to settle a petty dispute over who got the last can of coca-cola through rock-paper-scissors? or how about twenty feet away in seunghyun’s bedroom, where he fingered your stress away that same night, telling you he loves you whilst you bless his hand with splashes of your divineness? nah, jiyong didn’t need to know shit . . .

much to your delightful surprise, you and jiyong remained friends. or were at least friendly. you saw him after picking up your bagel and iced coffee up at coho’s, unable to properly say hello as you woke up late that morning, allotting less than ten minutes to head to your democratic theory lecture a couple blocks down, but traded polite grins from across the café nonetheless. you ran into one another on your walk back to your residential building—a care package sent by your parents in your hands, having picked it up at your commons. the expected “how’ve you been?” was exchanged. the conversation was admittedly light, but when you felt the time pass, there was a bit more speed in your step after your amicable “have a good weekend,” because unbeknownst to jiyong, you were ten minutes late for meeting with seunghyun in his car to go out for dinner off campus. you quickly dropped the package off in your dorm, settling into the passenger’s seat with a huff, “sorry i’m late.” “you’re good.” said seunghyun, waving the remainder of cigarette smoke out of his open window. he reached down, spinning the crank to put the window up. “still have some time before our reservation, anyway. hey,” he beckoned. “c'mere.” you looked at him, realizing what he meant. “oh, right. sorry.” your hands held either side of his face. “hi.” you said, leaning in. “hi.” he repeated, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his lips. you closed the gap. seunghyun re-connected the kiss. from the breath of relief leaving your nostrils, he could tell it was needed.

“busy day?” “oh god—i don’t even wanna talk about it.” you shook your head. “to think, nationals in a month and a half.” you thought aloud. “and all the shit i have to do in-between and afterward.” “you’ll do it. i know you can.” “i will. but barely.” you countered. “but how about you? how was your day? did your thesis meeting with your professor go okay?” “way better than i expected. there’s not a whole bunch of edits to make, finally. for once, y'know?” said seunghyun, putting his car into drive. “really?” you put on your seatbelt. “thats wonderful, baby. i’m proud of you.” “thank you. m'proud of you, too.” he looked into the rearview mirror, spotting himself whilst backing out of the parking spot. once done, he glanced at you. “but you already knew that.” he smiled. “i know.” you grinned. “y'know i just saw jiyong? he was walking around here.” “really?” seunghyun merged into traffic, “what’s he around here for?” you shrugged your shoulders, “i don’t know. i mean, what’re you around here for?” you quipped, upside-down grin molding your lips at his playfully annoyed expression. “that’s different.” he said. “i know, i know.” you chuckled. you relaxed into your seat, looking out the windshield. “he looks like he’s doing okay.” you said. “can you attest to that?”

seunghyun nodded, his eyes on the road. “yeah.” he answered. “it doesn’t seem to, y'know, completely consume him anymore. then again, i don’t live with his brain. but still. he’s better than he was.” you hummed in acknowledgement, reading the license plates of the cars driving in front of you. “that’s good. i told him about nationals before spring break. he invited me to your match on sunday with ucla.” the car came to gradual halt, stopping at the red traffic light. “i’m guessing you said yes?” “i said i’d think about it.” you clarified, seunghyun nodding in your periphery. “but it's basically a yes.” he couldn’t help his smile, leaning his head against his seat. “you gonna wear his hat like last time?” you gave him a look, unable to hide your amusement. “look at you, stirring the pot. and what if i did?” “then i’ll have to gear up to be the best man at your guys’ wedding.” seunghyun laughed. he laughed harder when you kissed your teeth disapprovingly, “oh hell no. fuck that.” you ran your hand over your face, feeling the car move again. “but i’m coming. at two, right?” “mhm.” seunghyun confirmed. “it's about time you see your boyfriend play, anyway.” “my two boyfriends.” you muttered, grinning sweetly hearing his laughter. “yeah,” seunghyun smiled grandly, playing into the joke. “your two proud boyfriends.”

the world split into two in march 2006—one being you, lodged in a hotel room in san francisco for the weekend, going back and forth between your teammates’ rooms to review arguments and strategies before heading to the convention center where nationals were held; the other housing seunghyun and jiyong in an almost empty snack bar on campus, cheeks flushed after an intense doubles match against uc irvine. though it wasn’t unfamiliar, either of their bodies felt the weight of their intensified regiment—both seunghyun and jiyong having played grueling singles matches earlier in the week, with another scheduled right before spring break. seunghyun sat in front of the windows in the snack bar, staring at his phone in his lap: Good luck today baby I love you so much he read his text for the nth time, but not as much as your response: I love you too!! good luck w irvine:) Call u tonight muah. jiyong came over with churros in both hands, seeing seunghyun on his phone. he put it away casually before anything could be seen, though what jiyong asked gave him a slight heart attack: “meet someone new?” he handed seunghyun a churro, sitting down in the stool next to him. seunghyun accepted, turning around and placing his elbows on the table behind them. “what? oh. nah.” he shook his head. he took a bite of his churro, other hand wiping the sugar grains from the corner of his mouth. “just something about my study group this weekend.” “oh, yeah. you did mention your midterm earlier.” jiyong thought aloud, nodding.

they talked as they usually did. jiyong turned around, resting his elbows like seunghyun. it was when he reached up to scratch an itch on his eyebrow did his expression suddenly sour. “shit,” he cursed under his breath—a slight stinging sensation on his temple. “you good?” seunghyun asked. “yeah, i think—i think i got sunburned.” jiyong’s fingers gingerly felt his forehead. his skin was irritated, confirming his suspicions. seunghyun took a bite of his churro before leaning in to get a better look, “doesn’t look too red.” he observed. “did you put on enough sunblock?” “i did, but i guess the humidity fucked me over today.” said jiyong, hearing seunghyun hum in acknowledgement. “doesn’t feel too bad, though.” jiyong muttered. “aloe vera’ll fix it up. i need my hat back.” “back?” seunghyun knew damn well, but he would be remiss to not keep himself in the safe zone—though the memory of your cheeks clapping made him adjust his posture in his seat. “did you lose it? that shit was glued to your head, man.” he chuckled. jiyong finished his churro, dusting his hands off underneath the table. “i left it with her.” he spoke in-between chewing. “you think i could get it back?” “sure.” seunghyun nodded, a grin tugging at his mouth. “if you ask nicely, of course.”

jiyong tried to give seunghyun a look, but his smile betrayed him. “very funny. ha-ha.” he chuckled. jiyong felt leftover sugar on his hand, shoving seunghyun’s face with his palm. seunghyun let out a hearty laugh, carefully wiping his cheek after finishing his churro. “y'know,” jiyong started. “i’ve been thinking.” “uh-oh.” seunghyun quipped, smiling at jiyong’s tsk of annoyance. “shut up,” said jiyong. “but for real. y'know how we have our—our end of season banquet, right?” “right.” jiyong fell silent, suddenly overcome with sheepishness. “you’re gonna have to spit it out at some point, ji.” “i know, i know.” jiyong shook his head, trying to level himself. “its just that—” he sighed. “maybe this is just pathetic of me to say. but i was thinking of inviting her.” seunghyun didn’t question it. he wanted to know more. “like as a plus one?” “yeah. i think the registry’s still open.” jiyong responded so quickly it was as if he cut seunghyun off. he looked at him, worried. his next question cemented it: “that's weird, right?” “was it weird when she came to our game against ucla?” seunghyun asked. jiyong shook his head, “no.” he answered earnestly. “but i did spent the entire time wishing we were still together, though.” seunghyun smiled proudly, putting his arm around jiyong’s shoulders. “you fucking snake.” he said. “i didn’t know you had it in you.” this’ll be fun, his inner monologue voiced. jiyong was visibly confused, yet his half-smile contradicted himself. “what? have what in me?”

“it's exciting seeing you this way, ji.” said seunghyun. “and no, i don’t think its weird, personally.” “i’m not—” jiyong went to say something, but seunghyun talked over him—committed to the bit. “its what’s been missing from your tennis.” “what?” seunghyun’s arm returned to his side, “it's nice to see you lit-up about something. even if that something’s your ex-girlfriend. you said she wanted to be friends when you broke up, right?” after he shoved his tongue down his throat, she did seunghyun’s inner monologue reminded him, remembering your play-by-play of what went down. jiyong nodded, “yeah, she did. but i don’t know if this is too forward or something.” “nah, not at all.” seunghyun shook his head. he jutted his bottom lip—perhaps too animated—but with how jiyong looked genuinely concerned, he flew right under the radar. “you don’t think i’m crazy?” jiyong asked, vulnerable. seunghyun’s face dropped a little, recognizing the look in his best friend’s eyes. the lingering hurt—the yearning. jiyong wasn’t over you. it didn’t look like he would be anytime soon. seunghyun could only say so much, having to hold himself back from the protective jealousy stirring in his chest, choosing his words carefully: “it's not considered crazy to be in love, ji.” unbeknownst to jiyong, seunghyun speaking for himself: “it's not crazy to want someone, either.”

the tournament wasn’t a sweep though stanford placed highly nonetheless. you celebrated with dinner and drinks at the end of that long weekend—delightfully surprised after your teammates prepared a graduation gift for their president, along with sentimental speeches that might’ve (just might’ve) made your eyes misty with gratitude. you hid it well behind your margarita, anyway. you walked into your hotel room at half past eleven that sunday night. packing would be rushed in the morning before boarding the bus back to stanford—for now, you just needed the quiet. you kicked your loafers off, set your gift bag down by the television, sitting on the edge of your unmade hotel bed. you leaned to your right, raising your left thigh, fishing your sidekick out of the back pocket of your black dress trousers—too tired to change out of your debate garb just yet. it's not too late, you thought to yourself. seunghyun’s definitely still awake. you scrolled through your notifications, seeing a few texts here and there, eyebrows furrowing seeing a missed call from jiyong a couple hours ago. “huh?” there was a voicemail from him, too. you pressed play, bringing your phone to your ear.

you heard a bicycle bell, followed by the skid of his sneakers against the sidewalk. “hi! this is—uh, this is jiyong,” his pause told you he didn’t know why he said his name. “i hope you've—i hope you’ve been doing good. i wanted to call to wish you good luck at your debate comp. i saw a flyer about it at coho’s, but i wasn’t sure of the time. i hope i didn’t call you when you were on stage or something. that would be really bad,” he chuckled nervously. “a-anyway,” he cleared his throat. “i’m calling ‘cause there’s this—there’s this thing we have in tennis. at the end of the season. well, a lot of if not all the athletic departments do it—but it's a seasonal banquet. there’s, like, food and awards and shit but i was wondering if . . . if—uh, if you’d want to come? it's on june 3rd—the sunday before graduation. totally no pressure. there’s lots of room for plus ones, so don’t worry about that if you want to come. people do it all the time. my parents won’t be able to come out here until graduation, so it’d be nice to have someone i know there. besides seunghyun. we'd—we’d go as friends, of course. i—i get it if you think its weird,” he descended into a characteristic ramble. “i mean, i would too. maybe. but i asked seunghyun about it,” your eyebrows raised. “and he didn't—he didn’t think it was odd. but of course what matters most is what you want. so, let me know? if you—if you want? yeah. you have—you have my number. i hope your comp went well.”

well that was something, you thought to yourself. it seemed relatively harmless, though you just knew seunghyun had something to do with this. he was mentioned twice, you recalled, what a fucking deviant. you didn’t think about your decision too much. you listened to your gut, noticing how there wasn’t a tug towards desired safety, nor the toxic nip of curiosity to just see what happens. your logic perhaps voiced the concern of this not being one of your best decisions … but if anything, the greedy part of your brain took to the frontlines: who wouldn’t want free food and two fine ass men feigning over you in silence? you turned your sidekick horizontally, lifting the screen to reveal the tactile keyboard. jiyong’s nokia vibrated in his pocket, showing seunghyun his screen with glee. “she said yes!” he exclaimed. if he didn’t know any better, seunghyun would’ve thought jiyong proposed. “for real?” he leaned forward, reading Hi! I got your voicemail. I’d love to go :) Send me details. he smirked, “you asked her over voicemail?” jiyong was quick to defend himself, “she didn’t answer her phone.” seunghyun chuckled, swiftly pulling his phone out. you received a slew of texts, one after the other: At jis do pnot call; i will call u latyer; How ur day; I lov youp. you smirked at your screen. seunghyun’s phone buzzed in his hand a minute later, having to control his warming face whilst jiyong ordered the pizza: You’re not slick. I love you more

the closer it got to graduation, the closer you came to the brink. those deadlines were horrendous, making you choose between completing coursework or up-keeping personal hygiene on particularly rough days. debate and graduation prep on your end were done. all that was left was perfecting and submitting your senior thesis, finishing those last few assignments that just happened to be dense as fuck, and preparing for finals. it took a toll on you. after the third day of falling off the face of the earth after the usual Good morning text, seunghyun had enough, too. there was enough on his plate already as a collegiate athlete: consistent games, demanding physical regiment, initiating the transition to go pro—coupled with his own academic pursuits. but if he’s learned anything these last five months, it's that there’s always room for you. no matter what. your phone dinged! at the library, startling you and eliciting disapproving looks from others deep in their studies. you turned your ringer off, reading the text from seunghyun. you had only just realized it was well past midnight, Baby u still at the library? Yes, you wrote back, A lot to do. your phone vibrated a minute later, Youve been there way too much. Its worrying me. you smirked at your screen, Didnt know u were so charitable. only for him to respond, Im being serious.

when twenty minutes went by with no answer, seunghyun called you. it didn’t take him long to pick up his keys after being sent to voicemail, taking the elevator down to his apartment building’s parking lot. an hour and some change later, at around half past one, the head librarian on your floor came on the sound system, announcing the library would be closing in a half hour. you checked the time on your phone, seeing a text from seunghyun: Librarys closing soon. you typed back, I know. Heading home now. seunghyun spotted you walking out of the front entrance. thank god she chose that one, his inner monologue muttered. he left his seat on the bench, “baby?” he called out, jogging over to you. you weren’t sure if it was the sleep deprivation playing a trick on you, slowly turning around and seeing the voice certainly matched who you thought it belonged to. your eyebrows furrowed: “what?” you muttered in a bit of disbelief. “what—what’re you doing here? it's almost two am.” “i could say the same to you.” he said. his hand came up to your cheek, bending down to kiss the other. “where’re you going?” “my dorm?” you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “but you need to relax.” “i can relax in my dorm.” seunghyun loved your stubbornness as it often complemented his, but in times like these, he felt like he played the role of a husband: “nah, nah.” he tutted, shaking his head through your disapproving tsk. “look at me, baby. c'mere.” he leaned down, softly pressing his lips against yours—satisfied in feeling you kiss him back, even more so when your hands came up to hold his face in your palms.

seunghyun ended the kiss just as gently as he started it, resting his forehead against yours. “it's been a week since i last saw you.” he spoke lowly. “i miss you real bad, baby.” he didn’t need you to tell him you missed him, too. he felt it in how you aligned your nose to nuzzle next to his—in how your breath from your parted lips breathed life back into him, your touch behind his neck so poetically familiar. “fine.” you told him definitively. “but you better have something to eat. i haven’t had dinner yet.” and he did. well, as far as kraft mac and cheese and reheated ready-made garlic bread can go. he gave you a pair of his briefs (“don’t look at me like that—they’re freshly washed. probably still warm from the dryer. plus, you’ve had my dick inside you. so it's not that much different.”) and a loose-fitting tee as makeshift pajamas. the shirt was too snug of a fit to your liking to sleep in, so you opted just to stay in your cami. not that seunghyun was complaining whatsoever—there was a sweet grin on his face as he tucked himself into bed next to, over-the-moon to knock the fuck out next to you after a long ass day.

you weren’t sure if it was the white noise of the air-conditioning, the darkness of seunghyun’s bedroom, your head hitting the pillow next to his, or how tenderly he wrapped his arms around you underneath his duvet, dotingly loving you with his warmth—but you were brought to tears; overwhelmed by how much had been on your shoulders these past few months, this week being the absolute worst without question. it felt now that your mind finally had a moment in the quiet, it took the opportunity to remind you where you are. it didn’t feel good. it felt malicious. enough to turn your face and sink into your pillow in shame, body trembling whilst you cried. seunghyun sprung into action: lifting his head up from his pillow, making out your silhouette in the dark. “hey,” he called softly, afraid to speak above a whisper. “baby—hey. hey,” his lips found the back of your shoulder. he heard your muffled cries, “oh no.” he tutted gently, sympathetic. “oh no, my baby. c'mere. at least let me hold you.” you slowly turned into his chest, grateful he couldn’t see your face in the dark. his palm found the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his lips. “what's going on, hm?” how tender his voice was just made you cry harder. you tried to get yourself together. “tell me, baby. i’ve never seen you like this before. it hurts.” “i’m fine.” you cleared your throat, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “i guess—i guess once i, like, settled down or whatever,” you sniffled. “my brain just . . . i don’t know . . . reminded me of how crazy everything’s been.”

seunghyun hummed in understanding. “i just don’t know how—” you cut yourself off, trying to abstain from crying again. you failed, feeling your sinus loosen and bottom lip quiver, “i just don’t know how i’m gonna do it all, seunghyun.” he held you tighter to him, feeling your muffled sob into his shirt. “you will.” he assured, lips kissing your temple. “you’ve made it this far. there’s no reason for you to not go farther. you’re the smartest person i’ve fucking ever met, you know that? hm?” his hand rubbed soothingly up and down your back, leaning down to press kisses onto your shoulder. “you talk your shit in circles around me daily.” he chuckled. you felt him smile into the supple, plush skin of your arm. you took a few deep inhales, trying to steady your heartbeat. “i’m not usually like this.” you muttered. “doesn’t matter if you cry everyday or not at all.” he said. “however you feel is human.” “i’ve never seen you cry.” “not yet.” countered seunghyun, lips returning to your forehead. his fingers swept your cheeks, collecting remnants of your fallen tears. “if i think about it long enough,” he whispered to you. “you crying’ll make me cry.” his words struck a chord in you, loosening your sinuses for a different reason. you reached for his temple, fingers combing through his hair, pulling him to your lips. “i love you.” your voice quivered in its whisper. “tenderly.” “i love you tenderly too, baby.” he reconnected your lips, “my baby. my beautiful baby.”

seunghyun’s senses awoke to his bladder intruding his rem cycle. his haphazard glance into the kitchen, eyeing the time on the stove, let him know it was half past seven in the morning. returning to his bedroom, he was met with an unwelcome surprise. you were up and out of bed, already dressed in your clothes from the night before, packing your backpack at his desk. “what’re you doing?” he mumbled, voice riddled with lingering sleep. “it's so early.” “the library opens soon—” you cut yourself off with a yawn, putting your laptop in its sleeve. “i have to go.” “you were just crying about being there, like, five hours ago, baby.” “crying doesn’t make it disappear, now does it?” you responded without looking up, sifting through the other pockets of your backpack to ensure you had everything you needed—mentally writing a to-do list for the day. seunghyun walked up behind you, fixing your shirt before sneaking his hand underneath the hem, warm palm settling onto your hip. “c'mon, baby. just stay for a little while.” “seunghyun, i have a—” “—an hour or two won’t hurt, y'know.” he said. he leaned down—pressing slow, purposeful kisses on your neck. satisfied chills ran down your spine. you actively tried to fight your fluttering eyes, or how your knees buckled slightly. but then seunghyun’s hand traveled past your stomach, gingerly kneading your breast through your cami. he knows every fucking thing about me, your inner monologue tsked.

your hand reached for his hair, feeling him hum against your supple skin in approval. “that’s right.” he encouraged. “feel me here with you—just like that.” he ushered you to his bed, telling you to “get comfortable f'me. it's gonna be a while, baby.” seunghyun unbuttoned your jeans, tugged your underwear off too, tossing both onto his carpeted floor. you spread your legs like muscle memory, watching him kiss down your inner thigh—taking his sweet, dedicated time with his favorite part of your plushness. his lips were slow on that soft pouch, cheeks relishing in how warm you felt against him. “so fucking beautiful, baby,” he whispered, inching closer to where you needed him the most, and where he wanted to be. “pussy’s fucking divine.” he ate you out like never before, rendering you speechless. his tongue did all the work, mouth latching onto those sweet, puffy lips of yours. his ministrations were slow and deliberate, making sure you felt every flick of his tongue against your clit, every swipe when he flattened it against you, every lap when he got greedy—or most importantly, his muffled whines whenever you tugged his hair. “f-fuck,” he sputtered into you, trying to re-focus on sucking your clit. “f-fuck, baby”. at some point, you were frozen—legs cemented in a spread, helpless to how good you felt. your eyes were closed, mouth hung open, so caught up in the pleasure you forgot to arch your back. it was as if your body didn’t know what to do, only able to speak in a language of light whimpers and broken whispers of your boyfriend’s name—one hand curled around nothing, the other now lifeless in his hair.

seunghyun slurped and suckled in content, ready to do this all fucking day if need-be. he took his sweet time, relishing in your sweet whimpers, humming in satisfaction the wetter you became, making sure you heard him swallow whenever he came up for a breath. it felt good to know his baby felt good and that he was the one doing it. he missed the feeling of your thick thighs clenching around his head, though. even so, he deduced you felt so good you couldn’t move. i know thats fucking right, his inner monologue commended. “i don’t take this for granted.” he said between lapping your clit. “i know how lucky i am. m’gonna start praying to this pussy if that’s what it takes.” your breath hitched suddenly and loudly. your toes curled into his duvet, hips bucking up unexpectedly, unintentionally making him latch off. before you could rush a hazy apology, he beat you to it: “its okay, its okay.” his voice was quiet—tender. you let out a prolonged whimper, effectively wordless—just needing him. you can’t remember the last time you felt so loved, so cared for, doted on in such a vulnerable state. “i got you.” his palms rubbed your thighs, the divots and crevices of your divine cellulite making love to his fingers. he felt up your bare stomach, sneaking underneath your cami, fingers etching over stretch marks—cascading down your supple rolls before returning to your thighs. “seunghyun’s got you, baby. relax for me.” he kissed your inner thigh. “relax f'me. lemme make love to you.”

you regained consciousness when you came, back arching into damn near oblivion. “fuck!” your voice broke. you let out an airy cry, unable to conjure something more guttural—too enraptured in your dream-like state. you felt a dip in the bed, grounded by a kiss to your cheek. seunghyun hovered above you, hands propping him up. “i love you, baby.” he told you sweetly, a second kiss inching closer to your mouth. “i love you, too.” your voice was almost non-existent, staying in a whisper, as if your subconscious was afraid that if you spoke too loudly, your sanctuary would be disturbed. your hand slipped up the side of his neck, bringing his lips to yours. “you bring me back to life . . .” you said breathily, inhaling through your nostrils. seunghyun’s open mouth hovered above yours hungrily, whimpering into the kiss at your words. he was annoyingly hard in his boxers, but stayed kissing you ever so slowly—at your pace. you could’ve sworn you felt the warmth of the sun when his tongue prodded yours, kissing him with increased fervor—your strength returning. “you’ve changed my life for the better.” he muttered against your lips. you whimpered, seunghyun tilting his head to deepen the kiss in return. “the least i can do is take care of you. right? yeah?” “mhm.” you hummed, keeping him tethered to you. “good.” he gradually separated your lips, satisfied in your shallow, yet quiet breath. he leaned into your touch, nuzzling his nose into your palm, kissing your warmth. “then let seunghyunnie take care of you, hm?”

he pushed your shirt up for the hem to rest under your neck. he laid between your legs, stomach aligning with yours, propping himself up with his elbow, palm against his temple. his right hand snuck underneath your cami, watching himself caress your right breast—able to feel it, but not see it entirely. you sucked in a breath, eyes on his hand underneath the fabric, watching a small peak form in the shape of your hardened nipple in real time. your areola was lodged between his pointer and middle finger, a gasp inflating your lungs as seunghyun leaned down, running his tongue repeatedly over your clothed nipple. after a few more, he took a look. “yeah.” he confirmed quietly to himself— working you up. his hand slipped from underneath your cami, tugging it down enough to let your breast breath. he didn’t waste any time in making only the top of his head visible, capturing your nipple between his lips and making love to it with his tongue. he hummed in content, encouraged by your hand in his hair, enraptured by your moans. “o-oh my god!” you whispered. you were stuck on an inhale, breathing when he popped off. “let me hear you.” was all he said when he went to your left breast, angling his head so you could see what he was doing. you watched his tongue nurture your areola, mouth hung up as he kissed your stretch marks before diving back in. “f-fuck…” your voice trailed. “thats so fucking good.” his dick twitched in his boxers, “y-yeah?” it is, baby?“ his syllables were half-finished as he spoke in the midst of his ministrations, but the eye contact with lethal. he got the message when your fingers carded through his hair, sucking like the good boy he is—spoiling you like you deserve.

the birds chirped as he reached for a condom, shutting the drawer of his nightside table. he made love to you the only way he knew how: with purpose. you kissed one another like lost souls reunited after centuries apart. his thrusts were intentionally slow, hardening upon feeling the ball of your foot rest on his lower back, fueling either his and your pathetic whimpers into each other’s mouths. his speed didn’t falter—wanting to not only take his time, but also speak to you without talking. he meant it when he said you’ve changed him for the better; the sun shines brighter and he suddenly believes he was put on this earth to love you and only you. but when he looks at you, his words get lost between his brain and throat. he’s better at expressing those more sentimental thoughts in writing—like the paragraphs he wrote in the card with fresh roses and daisies before you left for nationals—or in things considered mundane to the passerby but are quintessential in your shared lives: remembering when your meetings are, knowing whether to play lenny kravitz or mazzy star in his car depending on your mood, reminding him to take his supplements before going to morning practices, and introducing him to the world of skincare—even if he thought you were fancy for just using a moisturizer—or just filling you up.

you broke the kiss, mouth hovering his. "oh fuck,” you whined, biting your bottom lip. he hit all the places you needed—that were begging for it—the swivel of his hips telling you he knew what the fuck he was doing; he was the only one who knew you this well. “that feel good?” his breath shook. “yeah?” “yeah,” you nodded, looking at him with heavy eyelids. “so good, s-seunghyunnie.” your hands felt past either side of his neck, mindlessly pawing his back before messily carding through his hair. seunghyun kissed you deeply and with more fervor, soon translating that to his hips. he put more weight on his knees, thrusting faster than before, encouraged by your breathy moan. his bed made noise with every dip of his knees. not that he was moving crazily, but just the right amount to keep your mind deeply intertwined with your delectable libido, stretching you out in a way that feels it should be written in scripture—or just plain common sense, really. his bed frame was also aged and couldn’t withstand much motion without letting everyone else in the apartment know, like his roommate who just woke up down the hall.

“my beautiful baby, so f-fucking stressed out,” seunghyun murmured, hearing and feeling his balls intermittently slap against you. “so overworked, so—hngh!—t-tired f-fuck—” your gummy walls clenched around him, dizzying his senses. he took a deep breath, making the bed creak again. “it's unfair.” he panted, shaking his head. “the least you can let me do is take care of you. that's—t-thats the least i can fuckin’ do, baby—oh my f-fucking god,” he looked down, watching the way your thick thighs jiggled with every thrust. your puffy lips swallowed him deliciously, blessing him with a newfound sixth sense—a peek into the divine feminine herself. he looked at you, eyelids heavier than before. you looked beautiful. hair a mess, a light coat of sweat shining on your forehead, mouth agape, but most importantly relaxed. at ease. spoiled fucking rotten. i’ll do anything to keep her this way, he thought to himself. “w-why don’t you let me, huh? why won’t you let your seunghyunnie m-make you f-feel good? make you forget everything? huh?” he pleaded. he was completely at your helm, evident in the quiver in his voice, and how his lips hovered on your temple. your hand came up to the back of his head, keeping him there. “if—if you w-won’t use me—f-fuck—then i’ll give myself to you.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling him fuck you deeper as your back arched—your chest smushing against his. “h-how’s that sound, baby? huh? h-how's—how’s that—” “oh, fuck!” you cried out, eyebrows contorted sinfully. his mouth fell open at the sight, bed creaking louder. “fuck me, j-just like that—ngh!”

he tucked his arms underneath your knees, lifting your legs up a few inches. he came to a sudden halt following his first thrust in the new position—one reason being your wall-shattering gasp, the other the need to bring himself back down to earth; uncross his eyes with a handful of harsh blinks. “i’ve never—” you swallowed, mouth dry. your chest heaved, “i’ve n-never felt that b-before—fuck!” you gasped. the feeling was indescribable—arguably too strong. “stop! stop—don’t move!” “sorry!” seunghyun blurted out, panicking slightly. he tried his best not to fidget. “sorry, baby. my bad. do you—oh, f-fuck—do you w-want to stay like this? we could go back to—back to missionary.” “i—i don’t know,” you thought aloud. “i-it feels . . . good. just really fucking intense.” “i get that.” seunghyun nodded. “holy shit, do i get that.” “try a few thrusts.” “a-are you sure?” you nodded, “wanna see how it f-feels.” seunghyun listened. you thought bitches were making shit up, but your ass saw stars. black spots littered your vision. you went mute. seunghyun’s arms were shaking, looking like he needed an oxygen tank. “do you—” he sounded perishable. “d-d-do you—you want me to keep—” “your ass better move.”

neither of you lasted long. that condom was begging to be freed, so creamy and wet, its usage as a protective barrier felt useless. but with those reports of an upcoming recession? no way in hell were you planning on having a baby anytime soon. not that seunghyun didn’t fuck you like he was ready to become a father tomorrow, though. “oh fuck!” he cried aloud, face scrunched up in one of delectable sin, “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! yeah! y-yeah! oh fuck yeah!” he babbled dumbly, drooling leaking out of the corner of his mouth, fucking your tight pussy at what felt before like an unimaginable angle. “f-feel me? feel that, baby? o—oh my god!” he whimpered, drawing out his syllables. you were silent—everything you needed to say etched in your furrowed eyebrows and hung mouth. he was hitting places that felt dangerous. you ascended into something otherworldly, crying out his name like he’s never heard before. “s-seunghyun! o-oh my god—seunghyun!” you were wholly aware of your body, feeling your toes curl in the air and your back arch into oblivion, but lost in your illustriously carnal haze. seunghyun felt something wet. his vision blurred, seeing your squirt splashing onto his bed, pussy squelching with his thrusts. his stomach caved inward, “i’m gonna fucking marry you.” he whimpered pathetically. “i’m gonna fucking marry—o-oh fuck me!”

come june, you were born anew. senior thesis submitted, no more assignments, and final exams completed. all that was left was the end-of-season banquet, moving out, and graduation. it wasn’t much in comparison to the hustle you were used to, but with the sudden copious amount of free time you had, it felt like it couldn’t come soon enough. you couldn’t do much in terms of clearing out your dorm until your parents were set to arrive a couple days before graduation later in the week—seunghyun has hidden his amused smirk overhearing your bickering regarding travel and dinner plans whilst on the phone with them—so you filled your time by making your boyfriend take you to the mall, dodging his sneaky kisses whilst an associate tried their best to help you pick an outfit for your ceremony. “i almost forgot you can’t take me tonight.” you said to seunghyun over the phone sunday morning. “i was about to ask what time you’d pick me up.” “s'become natural instinct, i guess.” he said. his shoulder kept his blackberry to his ear, hands sorting through his hangers. he pulled his long sleeve black button-up from his closet, making a mental note to iron it for this evening. “you think romeo and juliet felt like this?” you raised an eyebrow though he couldn’t see you, “like the shakespearean couple?” “is there another one i don’t know about?” he retorted smartly, chuckling. “i think their dynamic was a bit more complicated than ours.” you said. “like, there’s was do-or-die. and they died.” “i’d die for you.” “now will that be before or after we graduate?”

seunghyun let out a hearty laugh, making you smile. you felt your phone vibrate in your hand, “hold on, baby. think i got a text.” you flipped your screen to reveal the keyboard. you did get a message, and it was from jiyong: Hi :) Do u have a ride tn? I can drive u if no. you grinned, thumbs already working: Works for me. 6:30? you flipped your screen down, returning your phone to your ear. “guess who’s hitching a ride with her ex.” seunghyun raised his eyebrows, “for real? ji texted you?” “mhm.” “he wants you back, y'know.” “i know.” you said, mind sifting through his recollection of their conversation when you were in san francisco. “you told me.” there was a brief pause on his end of the line, “are you gonna tell him about us on the ride there?” you made a face, “and have him crash the car and kill us both?” seunghyun ran his hand over his face, “you’re right.” “i’m going to tell him before graduation.” you said earnestly, hearing seunghyun hum in acknowledgement. “college of liberal arts is on thursday, anyway. so i still have time. it’ll be too brash—too much if i tell him tonight.” “you’re right, you’re right.” seunghyun nodded. “i sometimes forgot you’re the logical one of us both.” “then i must not be that effective if you forget.” you quipped, hearing him chuckle. “sorry, i just—” he huffed. “i just get greedy, baby.” “you’ve been greedy.” you corrected him. “can you blame me?” he asked. you looked up, seeing your reflection in the mirror mounted above your dresser. “no.” you said, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “i can’t.”

“but listen.” you continued. “i need you to promise me something.” “anything.” seunghyun said without hesitation. “just say the word.” “if jiyong tries anything tonight, you need to not act afool.” “what do you mean?” you huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “you know exactly what i’m talking about, seunghyun. like, if he has a look in his eyes. or tries to kiss to me or—” “—he’s gonna try to kiss you? since when?” “you said he wanted me back.” you made your argument. “do the math. especially since we both know how he can be.” “okay,” seunghyun went into his argument. “but what’s this about him kissing you?” “i’m just saying that if—” “—he won’t do that shit with me there.” seunghyun shook his head, kissing his teeth. “listen to me.” you said sternly. “hence the use of and my emphasis on the word if. i’m not going to let it get that far,” you said. “but if—and i mean if—there’s even a hint of an iota of a semblance of that behavior from him—even a fucking suggestive twinkle in his eye—you need to keep it together.” you heard him take a long breath, stubborn in his silence. “there is not going to be a scene at your banquet tonight. not on my watch, anyway.” you said. “do you hear me?” you were met with silence. “own up to it.” his posture stiffened. “i’m going tonight because of you. don’t sulk now.” “i’ll try my best.” he said, only to hear you tut disapprovingly. “no. i need a yes. absolute and nothing but.” “yes,” he answered. “i’ll behave.” you let out a breath of relief, “thank you. i love you.” “i love you. too much. at the same time it doesn’t feel like enough.” “it does. it will always be enough.”

jiyong arrived at your residential building right on time, waiting for you whilst stood outside his car. he was clad in a dark gray suit with matching trousers, seeing you in your go-to debate ensemble—a matching black blazer and trouser set—freshened up with accented jewelry. he greeted you with a hug. you returned the polite embrace, feeling bad in having to hold your laughter back, thinking of how if seunghyun were here, steam might’ve been coming out of his ears. you caught a glimpse of the backseat as you settled into the passenger’s, swift flashes of what went down just months ago flurrying your mind. “you look really nice.” jiyong told you with a smile, putting his key into the ignition. “thank you.” you nodded. “you look handsome, too.” “thanks.” he said. “thanks for coming with me tonight, too. i know this is probably not what you wanna do right after finals.” he let out a nervous chuckle, merging onto the street. you shook your head in assurance, “its fine, jiyong. it doesn’t have to be awkward if we don’t make it be.” “that’s true.” he nodded. you made friendly small talk during the fifteen minute car ride, pulling into the hotel housing the ballroom hosting the banquet.

conversation continued after jiyong put his car in park, trading chuckles and half-baked jokes. it was the brightest and widest he’d smiled in what felt like forever. “i’m really happy you came.” he spoke honestly, tone sincere. he met your eyes, “i missed you.” the words could have meant nothing—a friend platonically doting on the other. but with eyes like jiyong’s, there was no such thing as speaking plainly. complicated sentiment was the only option. his gaze softened, unabashedly keeping you tethered to him. his expression didn’t hold the insatiable weight of pleading, but it was just sad. perhaps a bit of relief? you thought to yourself, noticing the small breath parting his lips; how his posture molded with the driver’s seat. a moment lasting seconds felt akin to hours—stuck in time. there it was, that look in his eyes. “i—” a car honked. you and jiyong looked out the windshield at the same time. seunghyun waved to the both of you from his car, cigarette hanging between his lips. jiyong chuckled, waving back. you didn’t flinch, turning away from the window when seunghyun pulled into the spot next to jiyong’s car. he tossed his cigarette onto the asphalt, putting it out with his foot. he looked up, amused at the sight of you and jiyong stepping out of the land rover. “did i miss the memo or what?” “hm?” jiyong’s eyebrows furrowed. seunghyun gestured between you two with his pointer finger, “you two back together?”

you refrained from closing your eyes in frustration. seunghyun relished in it, smile widening. “oh—” jiyong cut himself off, growing sheepish. he glanced at you as if with the hope you would say yes. “n-no. just friends.” he shook his head, looking at his best friend. seunghyun nodded, “my bad.” on the walk to the hotel’s front entrance, jiyong was called over by a group of friends who had just arrived then, too. once he was a good distance away, seunghyun walked next to you. “you can speak when in my presence, y'know.” he quipped discreetly, glancing at his surroundings. you did the same, keeping your eyes ahead, “i know.” he turned his head to the left, looking down at you, “you look really beautiful tonight.” “i know i do.” you said swiftly, hearing him chuckle. “that’s my girl, alright.” he muttered to himself. “go talk to him,” you told seunghyun. “alright, alright.” he kissed his teeth playfully, clearly enjoying this. “i love you.” he blurted, loud enough for only you to hear. you held yourself back from telling him off, seeing him quickly turn around, sticking his tongue out before catching up to jiyong.

the universe had a cruel sense of humor. you could feel god herself giggling down at you, clinking glasses of chardonnay with her fellow deities as you sat between jiyong and seunghyun—in the same order as the night at the hotel, no less; jiyong on your right, seunghyun to your left. there were three athletes sitting across the table from you—a layout mimicked all throughout the ballroom. the banquet began with speeches from coaches and department heads, allotting time for dinner before awards were to be handed out. in the middle of someone’s speech, your phone vibrated in your pocket—a text from your mom, asking if you had eaten dinner yet. you responded, changing to a different conversation. seunghyun’s blackberry vibrated in his pocket. he hesitated to check, glancing at jiyong, whom was listening intently to whoever was speaking. seunghyun then looked at you, seeing your phone was away, your attention undeterred as well. I love you too btw he read, upside down grin on his face at your reference to earlier. Youre on the same side like at the hotel. his face warmed, putting his phone away. a few moments later, you felt something graze the side of your thigh. it was seunghyun—discreetly gesturing to let him fix the back of your blazer. you leaned forward in your seat just enough to let his hand through. he swiftly tugged at the bottom hem, flattening the fabric neatly to mold with your curves. his palm gingerly cascaded down your thigh afterward, settling back into his own lap.

there were a few times during the opening program where jiyong turned to you, smiling as he said something seunghyun couldn’t hear. it was usually followed by a chuckle from your end, or you gesturing jiyong to come closer to say something seunghyun also couldn’t hear. it looked and was friendly—but could you blame him for how he needed to force himself to look away, inhaling sharply through his nostrils, and clenching his jaw in muted frustration? seunghyun understood that to jiyong, you and him weren’t friendly like that, so it makes sense as to why you wouldn’t talk. but not even a spare glance? his thoughts wallowed. or a polite grin? he knew you meant business. in fact, thats the quality he loves utmost about you. you set him straight when he needs it, talk your shit in a way he’s never heard before, and made him into a more honest man. there’s no getting any bullshit passed you—not that he would dare, anyway. so he sat there, quiet. unassuming. on good behavior, like you told him to. he would reap his rewards any way he could. if it meant receiving a waft of your perfume every time you fixed your hair—he’d take it.

when the banquet broke for dinner, you and jiyong went to one side of the catering whereas seunghyun went to the other, luckily distracted by a few athletes he was friendly with at the bar. he really was trying, and you felt it. jiyong introduced you to his friends whenever they came up to him to say hello—each “no, we’re not dating,” more awkward than before. you returned to your table some time later equipped with a plate full of food. jiyong was pulled off to one of his friends’ tables, promising he would meet back with you soon. to your delight, seunghyun was the only one at your table, downing the last sip of his rum and coke. “i see you’ve made the most of your drink vouchers.” you grinned, twirling your spaghetti with your fork. you took a bite, hearing him chuckle sweetly. “you’re finally talking to me.” his syllables slurred a little. you wiped sauce off your lip with a napkin, “how’re you already tipsy?” you thought aloud. “you haven’t eaten much, have you.” seunghyun shook his head, jutting out his bottom lip, “saw some friends at the bar.” he said. “here, have mine.” you pushed your plate to him. you rose from your seat, “line’s not long and there’s plenty of food left.”

seunghyun’s eyes grew twice in size. “why’re you looking at me like that? we like the same shit.” “because i don’t want you to leave.” you tsked, unable to hide your smile, feeling your face warm. “grow up, you big baby.” as you turned to walk away, seunghyun looked across the room, seeing the back of jiyong’s head. he reached over, patting your ass. you looked back at him in a panic. you unintentionally mimicked his movement, seeing jiyong deep in conversation with a friend. “get a good one in.” seunghyun listened diligently, groping your left globe. you left with a satisfied huff. seunghyun watched you walk away, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looked down at his lap. “thats my fuckin’ girl.” he muttered to himself, eating a few bites of what became his food. you returned not too long after with a new plate and a margarita, letting out a sweet laugh upon realizing seunghyun was now drinking a vodka cran. “you better eat.” you said, eating a spoonful of macaroni and cheese. you saw jiyong walk over, other hand stirring your drink with the small straw it came with, “and drink water.” “i will.”

“hold up,” seunghyun called to you and jiyong. “gotta piss. hold this for me?” he handed jiyong his best sportsmanship certificate, carried in an elegant stanford-cardinal red folder. jiyong took it with a nod, holding it with his. seunghyun walked down the hall, turning the corner to where the restrooms were, following the directory on the wall. you stood in amicable silence with jiyong. your hand ran along the back of a luxurious lounge chair—one of many scattered throughout the main lobby—eyes drifting to the chandelier hanging above the front desk. “i forgot to check if seunghyun has his keys.” you turned to jiyong at the sound of his voice. something about his tone told you he was trying to fill the air. “do you think he does? so he can get his car tomorrow.” it was an obvious question with an obvious answer: of course the person who drove would still have their keys on them, even if they’re too tipsy for comfort to drive themselves home afterward. he’s smart enough to know. with the way jiyong’s eyes stayed on you, waiting for your answer, it was evident he wanted an excuse to talk to you. “i’m sure he does, jiyong.” you said. “you can check when he comes back.” “right,” jiyong nodded, sincere. “you’re right.”

the fleeting moments of silence that followed, something stirred inside jiyong’s chest. he tried to thwart it—distracting himself with the groups of fellow athletes filing in and out of the hotel, or the couple going back and forth with the concierge about a mistake made in their reservation. but he couldn’t help it. there was only so much one person could stifle for so long. you knew something was afoot, feeling him lay his hand atop yours. you didn’t waste an iota of time: “jiyong.” you warned him, voice leveled. “we can’t. you know this.” he looked at you, but you wouldn’t look at him. “i miss you so fucking badly.” he sounded broken—the world zeroed in on either of you, cancelling everyone else out. “you have no idea what i’ve gone through. how lonely i’ve felt these past five months without you.” his tone wasn’t spiteful. like his expression in the car, he just sounded sad. wounded. delicate. he took a step closer to you. you still weren’t looking at him. he leaned closer to your face, trying to get those beautiful eyes of yours, “i r-respect your choice, of course i do.” his voice quivered. “but i—i can’t live without you.” he shook his head, breath shallow. in your periphery, he looked perishable—eyebrows furrowed, mouth in a pitiful frown. “you don't—” he inhaled through his nostrils. “you don’t miss me?” your eyes fell closed, posture straightening at his question. he was so pathetically hopeful—anyone with a beating heart would feel sympathy. but you drew those lines already. you weren’t going to suddenly back-track now.

“not even a little bit?” jiyong added. you finally looked at him. you could’ve sworn you heard the tiniest whimper stir from his throat. “jiyong,” your tone remained firm. “of course i feel bad that—” “—then take me back.” he cut you off. you sighed—i can’t get anywhere with him, your inner monologue voiced. “jiyong…” “please.” he pleaded. “i’ll do anything. i’ll do anything for you.” before you knew it, his mouth hovered above yours. you breathed each other in, his hand still on yours. you were aware of your surroundings, not intending on closing the gap whatsoever, yet the sudden proximity couldn’t help but catch you off guard. jiyong knew this was wrong—he knew he was directly contradicting himself. but he couldn’t stop the tip of his nose nudging against yours, or his fingers sliding up to your wrist—his gentle touch pampering your smooth skin. seunghyun was watching from the corner—since jiyong had taken a step closer to you. he was frozen in place. his jaw was clenched so tightly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he shattered his teeth in the process. seunghyun never once doubted your loyalty to your relationship nor him as your partner. but to see your logical prediction play out in real time, coupled with the sheer balls on jiyong?? he needs to get a fucking grip on himself, seunghyun’s inner monologue grumbled bitterly. he was fortunate to have preserved a morsel of self-control in his inebriated state, running his hand over his face, inhaling sharply through his nostrils.

you took a breath, “we can’t.” you said definitively. a tangible whimper escaped his diaphragm—somewhere between a groan and a prayer—shoulders sinking feeling your hand leave his, “and we won’t.” jiyong hit a new low, unable to show his face. his forehead landed on your shoulder, stiffening your posture. you heard footsteps, seeing an irate seunghyun. you made searing eye contact—expression reading don’t do anything crazy. he tried to bite back, face reading how could i not? one cold stare from you and he listened, much to your relief: “am i interrupting something, or—” jiyong shot up, walking away wordlessly. either yours and seunghyun’s respective gazes followed him out the front entrance, turning to each other once he was out of sight. “what the fuck was that?” seunghyun thought aloud in disbelief. you let out a long exhale, running your hands over your face. “did he—did he try anything on you, baby?” you looked up, irrationally scanning for jiyong at the sound of seunghyun’s pet name. “he did.” you confirmed honestly. “but it got nowhere. like i said it wouldn’t.” seunghyun kissed his teeth, half in admiration, half in frustration. he dusted your shoulder off, bringing you back down to earth. “keep it moving.” you gestured with your head out the front entrance. “we need to get home. you better keep it together.” “i—i,” seunghyun hiccuped, trying to swallow the tipsiness away. “i will.”

the car ride was silent. seunghyun was in the backseat of the land rover, safely tucked away behind his seatbelt, twiddling his thumbs. your eyes were out the passenger’s seat window, counting the passing cars. jiyong’s stare was vacant, boring out the windshield. his fingers were tightly wound around the steering wheel, but not enough to paint his knuckles white—mind elsewhere, reeling with what he’s done but currently trying to forget for the sake of his sanity. he pulled into the lot outside of your residential building, putting his car in park. you unbuckled your seatbelt, “thank you for the ride home,” you said to jiyong. “and for tonight.” his meek nod pained you with second-hand embarrassment. seunghyun watched his every move. “mhm.” jiyong hummed, turning his head, but barely sparing you a glance—his shame heavy in the air. “it was nice seeing you again,” seunghyun said, tone polite. “for what it's worth.” you turned your head, meeting his eyes. either of your respective gazes softened—a language only you two understand. “you too.” you said simply. “goodnight.” you addressed both jiyong and seunghyun, turning to leave. “night.” jiyong murmured. “night, baby.”

you froze. seunghyun’s blood ran cold. jiyong’s eyebrows furrowed, confused. he looked in the rearview mirror at seunghyun. his best friend quickly looked away, down at his lap—confirming that his ears didn’t deceive him. “what did you just call her?” jiyong stared at seunghyun through the glass, voice eerily leveled. your heart thumped in your chest—we were so fucking close … your inner monologue said bitterly. seunghyun raised his head, trying to get his lick back—establish his characteristic confidence. “i didn’t call her nothing, ji.” jiyong looked to you. you hadn’t moved. you could have, but you were physically stuck in place in shock. to think, this was the way jiyong was going to find out? so brashly, so—so inconceivably? and who had to pick up the pieces now? you did. it was always you. seunghyun’s eyes closed in defeat, head sinking in shame after jiyong slammed the driver’s seat door shut. nothing would kill seunghyun more than to see the disappointment he just knows is plastered on your face right now. he dared to look up at the rearview mirror, seeing the sight of jiyong pacing back and forth behind the car, but your eyes in the corner—piercing. he shook his head, becoming a blubbering fool in a matter of seconds: “i’m sorry—” “—get the fuck out of this car and own up to it.” you cut him off. “now.” “y-yes ma'am.” he nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt, stepping out of the car.

your door slammed closed after his. seunghyun saw you fix your blazer in his periphery. you two rounded the corner of the car, side-by-side, standing across from a distressed jiyong. “ji,” started seunghyun. “just listen to me for a second, man.” “like the fuck i will.” jiyong kissed his teeth, shaking his head. he paced four steps back-and-forth, hands on his hips, sorting through his quick-fire fragmented thoughts knitting his eyebrows together. “we were—” you corrected yourself swiftly. “i was going to tell you.” jiyong stopped in place, looking at you. his expression was sharp, targeted. “we?” his pointer finger gestured between you and seunghyun, condescending in nature. “so you two are a—are a thing?” you nodded, keeping your calm. “yes. we’re together.” seunghyun mimicked, nodding his head. “for how long?” jiyong asked, “huh?” seunghyun looked at you. his expression wasn’t accusatory whatsoever, but rather encouraging—dependent. “since—” you sighed. though you knew you owed jiyong the truth, some part of you remained afraid how he would react. so, in true debate fashion, you skirted around it delicately. “since the wintertime.” seunghyun picked up on your vague word choice, seeing the cogs turn in jiyong’s brain. clouded by the shock of it all. poor guy, his inner monologue voiced. “since the—since winter?” jiyong thought aloud, shaking his head—in the midst of connecting the pieces.

“since december.” seunghyun clarified, getting some of his lick back. “we’ve been together since december.” “but we broke up in january.” jiyong said to you. you took a breath—this is the worst fucking part. just get through this and it’ll be over—“yes, i know we did, jiyong—” “—is that why you broke up with me?” jiyong made his own connections, taking a few steps closer to you. his expression bordered on wild, eyes pained with hurt, tone teetering into accusatory. “because you wanted to fuck my best friend?” seunghyun’s expression darkened. he didn’t appreciate jiyong’s tone, nor how quickly he got comfortable with disrespecting you. your eyes narrowed, standing your ground: “that would fit perfectly into your little narrative, wouldn’t it?” you asked, eye contact unrelenting. with each condescending nod of yours, jiyong felt himself shrink. “would keep your streak going, too.” you continued, crossing your arms over your chest. “since you wanna swing your dick around, saying you got to fuck me, when in reality you nearly perished at a mere fucking tug. so go ahead,” you nodded, challenging jiyong. “say that shit again.”

jiyong swallowed, clearing his throat. “how did you know i said that?” “how the fuck else?” you spoke with conviction. “you wanna talk like you know everything? go ahead. don’t stop now and make me spoon-feed it to you.” jiyong took a step closer to you, trying to bite back. seunghyun’s jaw clenched. “i’m not inept.” jiyong said sharply to you. “you’re not.” you shook your head curtly. “but you’re fucking insecure.” jiyong fucking hated how quickly his sinuses loosened. he inhaled sharply through his nostrils, trying not to let your harsh reality impede on his back talk—but the truth fucking hurts. he was stuck in an unforgiving cycle: think you’ve got it, then you don’t. was it really repeated misfortune, or is he really just that intolerable? had he really found the one, or did he scare her away—into his best friend’s fucking arms, out of all fucking people? “shit.” he cursed between his teeth, feeling his eyes water. jiyong turned around, pacing a few steps forward, his hands on his head in muted agony. both you and seunghyun watched jiyong in silence, unsure of what to do next. jiyong’s face trembled, nearly succumbing to his tears. why does seunghyun always gets what he wants? his inner monologue quivered, reminiscent of a young child’s, what about me? he felt juvenile for thinking of a serious situation in such a silly manner. he knew there was more nuance to this than his stubbornness was willing him to believe, but how else could he word it? there it was, the other pattern defining—no, bleeding his life dry since he could remember. since that fucking neighborhood block party as a kid.

jiyong ran a hand over his face, getting himself together. he turned around, facing the two of you—subconsciously recognizing you as one unit; a collective, impenetrable moving force. “is that what this is?” he voiced meekly. dissatisfied with himself, he poked his cheek with his tongue, gesturing between you and seunghyun with his finger. “you cheated on me with seunghyun to get back at me for lying about fucking you?” you scoff eviscerated his last shred of dignity. you shrugged your shoulders, “you’re a lost cause.” you told jiyong, shaking your head. the same time you turned your back and walked a few paces away—appalled by his sheer audacity—seunghyun walked up to jiyong. “hey,” he said sternly, pointing at jiyong’s chest. “you don’t get to fucking speak to her like that.” “the fuck does it matter to you! you didn’t give a fuck about her! i was the only one who did!” jiyong yelled, smacking seunghyun’s hand away. his throat felt raw, “you always get whatever the fuck you want!” his voice echoed throughout the empty parking lot. you ran your hands over your face, wanting to be anywhere else but here. “it's not fair!” jiyong yelled. seunghyun didn’t back down from the challenge, looking at his brother since sentience in the eye with undiluted defiance. “how did—how did you even—” jiyong stumbled on his words, awkwardly gesturing to nothing at his side, trying to form a sentence. he shook his head, looking for stability in his thoughts. “how did you even get together, seunghyun?” he looked at his best friend, utterly helpless. “how could you do this to me? she was mine first!”

seunghyun kissed his teeth dismissively. “nah, man. i’ve paid my fucking dues. i’ve learned from my mistakes and how bad i fumbled.” he told jiyong. “but what i’m not gonna let you do is forget that she saw me first. so fuck off with your cuck-ass bullshit.” your face sunk into your hands, “you have got to be fucking kidding me.” you muttered to yourself, they really talk like they’re not a day passed seven. jiyong thought he was going crazy, “what the fuck are you talking about!?” he yelled at seunghyun, throat dry, nearly descending into a coughing fit. he swallowed hard, fingers pounding on his temples dramatically, “what the actual—what the actual fuck are you talking about, seunghyun? do you not hear yourself when you talk!? you told me to bring her tonight, knowing what you two are dating!” he took a deep breath. “what's—what’s wrong with you, man? all of our lives you’ve gotten everything—everything you’ve wanted. and—and now—” jiyong scoffed pitifully, the words caught in his throat. “the—the one fucking time i have someone, you just—you just took her away. like it was nothing. like she’s nothing,” jiyong gestured to your back. seunghyun’s jaw clenched, eye contact with jiyong unrelenting. “she’s not nothing.” murmured seunghyun. jiyong shook his head in disbelief, “why couldn’t i just have this one—this one thing?” his chest felt hollow, head nauseated with shame and inexplicable betrayal. “you couldn’t leave her alone? just this once? out of the girlfriends i’ve had, she’s the one you just so happened to want?” tears clouded his vision. jiyong blinked harshly, “huh? why, seunghyun? fucking why!”

seunghyun shook his head defiantly, getting up in jiyong’s face. jiyong pushed his shoulders, but seunghyun came right back. “i didn’t take bullshit away, ji.” he taunted. “it's not my fault she answered and didn’t hang up. it's not my fault that we went out to dinner and she didn’t wanna leave.” he watched his best friend crumble with every syllable—every breath. “what is my fault is—is that—” seunghyun cleared his throat, zeroing himself back in. “is that i was stupid for not realizing what i wanted before it could hurt you.” “fuck you, man.” jiyong spat, but his pitiful expression said otherwise. “everything’s always been so easy for you.” said jiyong bitterly, “you don’t get to talk.” “nah,” seunghyun stared down at him. “'cause you don’t get to talk either, ji.” he shook his head menacingly, “you think it was easy hearing you talk about someone every fucking day, when you had no idea what to do with all that? what to do with all of her?” he tutted. “you think it was fucking easy to see the look on her face when you didn’t tell her you loved her? and then you went and told her over fucking text? really, ji? have you ever been fucking serious a goddamn day in your fucking life?” your stomach dropped. your eyes widened, body going on auto-pilot. you walked up to seunghyun, “that’s enough.” you spoke with conviction, though he wasn’t budging. you saw how all the color drained from jiyong’s face. it petrified you, wondering how the brash mention of such a sensitive topic would play out. you didn’t want to stick around to find out: “i said that’s fucking enough.”

you weren’t particularly religious—though meeting jiyong’s eyes ushered you into judgment day. his pupils twinkled devastatingly underneath the glow of the street lamp, erasing any surrounding white noise. the world fell silent. it always did with those eyes of his, “you told him?” it was a natural instinct to want to reach out and comfort him. however, it wasn’t attributed to your past relationship, nor basic human empathy. he was born to be comforted—made to feel worthy, re-assured with love. any palm could be molded to fit his cheek—any kiss can rejuvenate his senses. in another life, he was an artist’s muse: elegantly immortalized on canvas, vividly celebrated in marble. his emotions were never misguided, but rather guideposts of the human experience. in this life, unfortunately, he’s been banished to the unforgiving gallows of insatiable want with no means of a tangible end. stuck in a cycle—looking at the love of his vulnerable yet beautiful soul hold the arm of the one who’s tightened that suffocating rope his entire life. “you told him everything?” jiyong’s voice was meek, utterly devastated. you held onto seunghyun’s arm tighter, fighting the urge to comfort his sad soul: “i—” “—you’re talking to me.” seunghyun took a step forward, effectively out of your grip. “not her. me.” he pointed to himself, looking at jiyong. “you’re not gonna get another chance to disrespect her.”

jiyong looked offended. “disrespect her? i’m nicer than you’ll ever fucking be, seunghyun.” he said sharply. “you toss people out like garbage. like you did to her before you—before you decided to j-just randomly change your mind. like you’re doing to me right fucking now.” seunghyun took a deep breath, actively deterring the need to yell—he was historically the more level-headed energy in their arguments. “i didn’t randomly change my mind.” he said calmly. “yeah? well, it fucking feels like you did. just—just swooped in when no one was looking.” jiyong tsked. silence brewed in the tension-filled air. jiyong was at his wit’s end, “that’s the—she’s the love of my life, man.” “mine too.” said seunghyun. “i’m an honest man because of her.” if the unspoken words displayed on jiyong’s face were audible, he would be indicted on federal-level charges. “like you ever were to begin with.” he muttered bitterly. “you didn’t give a fuck. you never give a fuck about people in a normal way.”

seunghyun couldn’t take it anymore: “i always did!” he yelled, voice booming down the lot. “i always cared! do you not fucking hear yourself, ji? huh!?” seunghyun threw jiyong’s words back at him, rapidly tapping his own temple, eyes widening in frustration. “y'know, when we first came here, i wanted you to have a life of your own. because i saw how much it killed you to—to constantly be associated with me at the academy,” said seunghyun. “i’m not fucking stupid, ji.” he shook his head, not giving jiyong the chance to breath with his seething eye contact. “you may think i am, but i’m a lot smarter than you wanna fucking admit. you want people to know you’re the older one. you don’t want to be known for tennis since you got wrapped into it 'cause of me. you fucking hated and i mean hated!” he yelled. “when we both got into stanford, because there’s another thing that’ll tie us together furrr-ever.” seunghyun listed on his fingers, pumped-adrenaline from the roll he was on temporarily compromising his pronunciation. he talked like you’ve never heard him speak before. he became straight up bitter the angrier he got, “you wanna last in people’s memories for longer than five fucking seconds. great. great! go ahead! no one’s stopping you!” seunghyun let out a condescending laugh, throwing his hands in the air.

he looked over his shoulder, arm gesturing at you behind him, his attention returning to jiyong. “you don’t want the love of your life slipping through your fingers.” you covered your mouth. you couldn’t deter your eyes though jiyong and seunghyun were only a few feet in front of you, akin to a car crash. “i get that, ji. okay? i understand.” seunghyun nodded. “but what you need to understand is that you were a placeholder.” jiyong’s knuckles went white, fists at his sides, jaw clenching. seunghyun licked his lips, “i don’t know why it was her and not someone else. i don’t.” he shook his head, earnest. “but i know—i know this is different. i’m not letting her go. no matter what the fuck you say. or do.” jiyong’s voice quivered, “i can’t ever forgive you for this.” seunghyun’s shoulders didn’t slump, nor did his posture falter. “i know.” he leaned forward, staring into jiyong’s mutilated soul. “how’d my dick taste in your mouth, though?”

it all happened so quickly: jiyong swung, seunghyun dodged; popped jiyong on the jaw, nearly sending him toppling onto the asphalt. you gasped sharply, not knowing what to do, moving forward on nothing but instinct. seunghyun grunted, breathing temporarily stalled after jiyong punched him square on the chest, swinging back—completely undeterred by your yanking of his suit; in his own world, hellbent on his own objectives. you grabbed as much as you could, pulling hard. “are you fucking crazy!?” you exclaimed, bottom of your loafers skidding against the pavement. “have you lost your damn—” you yelped, letting go immediately. you registered an intense stinging sensation on your right hand—half of your pinky nail was gone; snapped off after chipping against a loose thread, combined with the force of your pulls. “shit!” you cursed aloud, eyes watering. it was unbearable, almost paralyzing. applying pressure to the wound was useless—it only caused you to wince louder, unable to stop your tears in your immediate reaction. seunghyun turned around, horrified: “look what you fucking did ji—” the wind was knocked out of him again, jiyong punching his chest and pushing hard against his shoulders afterward, sending seunghyun stumbling backwards, and unintentionally into you. you fell onto the pavement. no further physical injury, thankfully, but in the sudden intensity of it all, a moment of weakness slipped through the cracks: a sob ringing from your diaphragm.

seunghyun panicked, scurrying over to you. “h—hey,” he was on all fours, having not gotten up yet, the adrenaline currently fogging his logic. “you okay, baby? a-are—are you hurt? hey—” “—i’m fine.” you wiped the tears off your face harshly, pissed at everything and every-fucking one. seunghyun grabbed your wrist, eyes widening, “oh my god—what happened to your hand? h-holy shit.” “i-it was when i—” your tears had subsided, yet the stability in your voice had yet to return. “w-when you—” “—look what the fuck you did, jiyong!” seunghyun yelled. he got to his feet, “she's—she’s fucking bleeding, man!” jiyong’s face fell, “w-what? i didn’t . . . i didn’t mean to—” “that’s what happens when you do the stupid shit you do,” spat seunghyun, “people get hurt.” “you’ve hurt me my entire fucking life! made me—made me feel weak!” jiyong yelled. he pointed at seunghyun, feeling his bottom lip pulsate. “that’s all you know how to do, seunghyun!” seunghyun stepped forward, about to retaliate. “if only you—” “shut the fuck up!” you yelled, drawing out the last syllable in desperation—or until your breath gave out. jiyong and seunghyun were stunned into silence. finally, some fucking peace—"the both of you are so fucking annoying—god!“ you ended in a frustrated exclaim, pinching the bridge of your nose.

after a moment, you took a breath. you laid your left palm on the pavement in an effort to boost yourself onto your feet. "here, let me—” “you’ve done enough.” you said curtly to seunghyun, who backed off immediately, hands behind his back. you got up, pain searing on your pinky. “fuck,” you winced, wrist limp. on his instinct, seunghyun’s body was close to yours. you lifted your head, looking at jiyong. “we’re done.” you said, plain and simple. “fuck off. forever and always.” you turned your head, glancing at seunghyun. “i don’t care what the fuck you do,” you said. “i just want to go to bed.” with that, you walked away, towards the front entrance of your residential building. seunghyun took a steps forward in your direction, but found himself stalling. he turned to jiyong, their exchange wordless. there it was—their special language, harnessed and utilized since birth, spoken for what feels like the last time. they stared at each other underneath the warmth of the aged streetlight—jiyong’s bottom lip swollen; seunghyun’s left eyebrow scuffed and chest most definitely bruised—in complete silence to the passerby, but a cacophony of madness blasting their brains.

it was a last goodbye. jiyong’s face was unreadable, too tired to show emotion anymore. with how his fingers curled into his palm, however, tugging at the sleeve of his suit, communicated unease. like he wasn’t ready for what this was going to mean with the only person he’s ever trusted in his life. seunghyun’s eyes glistened, not sure where exactly his emotions were coming from, since there were so many avenues: having just fought with jiyong; the love of his life is currently hurting both emotionally and physically; the mess he’s going to repair once he walks inside your dorm; the realization that he’s already made his decision, and once he puts one foot in front of the other, his best friend will become a stranger. seunghyun’s lips parted, taking a breath. he walked away and didn’t look back.

you two stood in silence in the communal kitchen. seunghyun sifted through the first aid kit, collecting a few alcohol wipes, a sterile gauze sponge, and band aids. he tended to your broken pinky nail, cleaning and securely bandaging it up. “i know.” he whispered whenever you couldn’t hold in your wince, feeling it throb. “i know, baby.” he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. he sat in a chair, you stood between his knees as you tended to the scuff on his eyebrow. you cleaned the cut with an alcohol wipe, protecting it with a smaller-sized bandaid.

seunghyun helped you undress in your dorm, sliding your blazer off your arms before unbuttoning the back of your blouse. he hung his suit on the back of your desk chair, leaving his button-up with it, too. he sat on the edge of your bed after taking his matching trousers off, feeling the mattress dip next to him. “hm?” he hummed. he looked up, seeing you point to his bare chest, a few bruises littering his pecks. you brought out your vanilla-scented body oil, usually used to moisturize your body after a shower, but massaged it into his skin nonetheless. though the oil held no healing properties, the tenderness of your gesture and touch was enough to start healing him. seunghyun’s posture relaxed, head falling back whilst his eyes closed, breathing steadying as your left palm wrote a love letter on his chest—each firm rub an affirmation, each encircled trace of a bruise a vow.

you massaged whatever oil was left into either of his shoulders. your hand found the back of his neck, bringing seunghyun in for a long-needed kiss. it was slow—breathing each other in through your nostrils. the kiss gently broke, the tips of your noses brushing together. you broke long-standing, yet amicable silence: “that was really stupid.” you alleviated the messy tension. seunghyun chuckled, breath warm against your cheek. “it wasn’t a little bit hot?” he quipped in a murmur, making you smile. “maybe.” you giggled sweetly, “a little bit.” your hand combed through his hair, fingers gingerly fixing stray strands laying in disarray on his forehead. “did you think i was gonna follow you?” he asked, voice low. though you took a moment, you answered in earnest. you shook your head, looking into his eyes, “no.” it was plausible: so much history between him and jiyong, it would make more than enough sense to stick by his side, even after nearly bashing each other’s faces in. but as you looked into the love of your life’s eyes, watching his twinkling pupils scatter around your features; mouth parted in unspoken hope, latching on your every word—you couldn’t help but be happy that the one you upended your life for did the exactly same thing for you. this love story is tragic, your inner monologue voiced, but those are always the best ones, right?

“but i’m glad you did.” you told seunghyun. a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. he leaned in, kissing you firmly. you kissed him back, hand with your injury pinky gently riding up his bare chest, settling comfortably onto the side of his neck. seunghyun kissed you again before breaking apart, resting his forehead against yours. you two settled into bed soon afterward, seunghyun reaching over you to turn your lamp off before settling onto your chest. your fingers lovingly carded through his hair, bandaged pinky held in the air to avoid any discomfort on your end. perhaps it was the white noise of your air conditioning unit, the fact that seunghyun was in a dark and quiet room and nestled into your chest, that the emotional gravitas of the evening finally began to weigh on him. this was not to say you went unscathed—you were exhausted to the point of muscular weakness. seunghyun felt his sinuses tingle, loosening expeditiously. he sucked in his bottom lip, trying to keep it from trembling. his shuddering shoulders gave him away. “seunghyun?” you were alert. “hey,” your fingers raked through his hair, trying to get his attention. you heard muffled cries, a part of your shirt dampening. there was a moment he seemed to have leveled. until he couldn’t bear it anymore, breaking out into broken sobs. you held him as tightly as you could, feeling his hands aimlessly paw at your waist. he didn’t say a word. your vision blurred, clamping your eyes shut.

the next few days were for recalibrating. seunghyun called a taxi to the hotel, trying to ward off his hangover with a cigarette. he rubbed his face at a traffic light, skin feeling heavier than usual. he sucked in a breath, pressing gently down on his sore sinuses—evident remnants of how hard he cried just hours before. he pulled into a pharmacy, walking through the aisles for antiseptic, fresh gauze and bandages for your pinky. his phone buzzed in his pocket whilst standing in line for checkout: Im more awake now, you texted. lmk when youre back. ofc baby, he typed with his left hand, right holding the full shopping basket. it was then that he saw the time, 10:37 AM. it's only hitting me now that it's monday, he thought to himself. he looked up, seeing a free cashier gesturing for him to come to their counter, last week ji and i made plans to help each other move out. wonder how he’s gonna do it on his own. jiyong woke up with a blistering headache. he stumbled into the bathroom, squinting at his reflection after hastily turning the light on. his bottom lip was swollen and bruised—not enough to warrant a visit to the nearby urgent care, but enough to begrudgingly put ice on it as his eggo waffles toasted; scarfing them down before throwing back two advils for the pain. just when his brain started to catch up with his body, senses permeated by the memories of the evening previous, his phone rang—ringtone piercing.

“hello? mom?” he mumbled, trying to decipher her words. his headache worsened, “you’re at the airport? how long’ve you and dad been there?” he had forgotten his parents were flying in today for graduation later in the week. to his relief, he hadn’t inadvertently stranded them at san jose international airport, but by his mother’s tone, she was growing impatient. “i’ll leave soon—traffic isn’t bad in the morning. okay. i love you, too. yes—yes, mom. i’ll drive carefully.” his parents were mortified to see their son’s injured mouth. hundreds if not thousands of questions were hurled at him. jiyong couldn’t stomach looking into their eyes, closing the trunk with a huff after putting their luggage inside. “seunghyun and i got into a fight.” jiyong muttered, putting his car in drive. “that badly?” he looked into the rearview mirror, seeing his father point to his lip. jiyong tsked, keeping his eyes on the road. “what could’ve possibly made you two that upset?” his mother disapproved, shaking her head. “this is so unlike you.” jiyong grimaced, tight-lipped as his bitterness clouded his senses. more like who it was, his inner monologue grumbled, merging into traffic.

word travels fast. seunghyun dug into his egg’s benedict as you cut into your breakfast platter—either of your styrofoam take-out boxes squeaking against the table in the communal kitchen—his phone rang. “hello?” his voice was muffled, trying to chew through his bite, wiping his mouth with a crumpled napkin. his father didn’t waste time with pleasantries: “what’s this i hear about you and jiyong getting into a fight?” seunghyun glanced in your direction. with how you looked at him, it was as if you understood his mother language. seunghyun cleared his throat, expression darkening a bit. his chin sunk, “we’re not talking right now, dad.” he spoke into the phone, “i'll—i’ll tell you and mom when you come tomorrow. it's a lot to explain over the phone. the least i can do is tell you face-to-face.” it surprised you when he called the next afternoon, asking if you were free for dinner.

“talk about a novel way to meet your boyfriend’s parents.” you quipped, holding your phone to your ear with your shoulder. your hands were occupied with folding your clothes and putting them into your luggage—the task you worked through today to slowly pack your dorm up for move-out. “after … y'know.” “i know.” said seunghyun. he overheard his parents in the kitchen, trying to differentiate his tupperware from his roommate’s, “would you be ready in a couple hours? around seven, let's say? my parents have a rental, so they’ll meet us there from their hotel. alleviate some of the—” he cut himself off, unsure of what word to use, “y'know.” you took a moment before responding, “they wanna see if i was worth it, don’t they?” seunghyun was quick to reassure, “you leave that to me.” he said. “you’re more than worth it. you need to know that.” you turned to retrieve the last few sweaters from your dresser, catching your reflection in the mirror. “i know.”

the world moves fast, but you and seunghyun move faster. the following day—wednesday evening, the night before your graduation—seunghyun’s for the school of humanities and science was friday morning—he met your parents over dinner. his eyebrow scuff had healed enough to ward off worry of you dating a heathen. he was a smooth and confident talker, getting to know your parents as much as they got to know him. he offered an easy smile before answering questions about his studies, or how tennis became such an important pillar of his life since a young age. he mentioned jiyong, but not by name: “a family friend and i have done it since we were kids.” he said, quickly taking a sip of his water, “its stuck since then.” though his characteristic confidence spoke for itself, he sought a comforting grip of your hand underneath the table whenever possible—adding a gentle swipe with his thumb after you explained your bandaged pinky away, “i was packing. i didn’t have a good grip on a storage box.” you said to your parents. “it hurts a lot less now, though. but i can’t do much heavy lifting. that’s where he comes in.” you gestured to seunghyun. he grinned, glancing down at his lap, feeling his face warm through his mounting sheepishness.

jiyong saw you in the crowd at graduation. he heard your name being called, but looked away before you walked across the stage to accept your degree. seunghyun and jiyong were tight-lipped in photos and spoke minimally to one another in their shared graduation dinner come friday night—much to either of their parents’ dismay. not that you were planning on it, but you didn’t attend—spending your evening with your parents, finishing packing your dorm to load the mover’s van the next morning. on the way to meet his parents at their hotel, jiyong drove by your residential building. though it was a simple start to the early afternoon on this partly cloudy saturday, the universe still had some distasteful jokes up her sleeve.

he came to a gradual stop at the traffic light, reaching down to recline his seat a centimeter or two. he stuck his elbow out the window, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. his ears caught the sound of rickety carts, turning his head to his left. he was able to make out the open trunk of a uhaul van—seeing you turn the corner, seunghyun behind you wheeling a steele moving cart filled with your belongings. he saw two people standing by the other side of the van in conversation—presumably your parents. his heart sunk bitterly, but for a fleeting second, he forgot the reason why: i didn’t know hyun was gonna be here, his inner monologue voiced, he didn’t tell—

he kissed his teeth, looking away. why would he? he wondered pitifully. resent brewed between his temples, percolating at the back of his neck. his eyebrows furrowed in muted frustration, not like we’d tell each other anything anyway. sharing their immediate thoughts, phoning the other whenever they were just an iota unsure about something, and being one another’s second nature felt long gone—all in a matter of days. a shared life, disqualified with a swing of a fist. not erased, though. at least not to me … jiyong couldn’t stop himself from looking again. he watched seunghyun and your father lift a heavy storage bin into the van—your mother and you talking to the side. once finished, seunghyun checked to see if your parents weren’t looking, sneaking a kiss to your temple. a silent thank you manifested in your hand rubbing his lower back, bandaged pinky running along the fabric of his shirt.

that was also when jiyong saw your shirt: I TOLD YA, in bold letters. the words were stacked vertically, staring jiyong right in the eye. he had never seen you wear it before, let alone in your closet. though the look of the relaxed gray fabric was somewhat familiar, he was too busy jumping to irrational conclusions. it felt like a subliminal message—something out to get him; taunt him. that he would never be happy, everything he will want would eventually be taken away, and vindication wasn’t part of his fate: i told you so. whilst you and seunghyun were clueless—ushered over by your parents to make plans for lunch—jiyong sped off, tight-lipped; vein engorged on his temple . . .

honey's taglist ☕️: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten @riddlerloveb0t @mesopotamism @pepsicolapussi @breakmeoff @thanosspills @moontabi @tabibabib @lexalith @lavenderobsessed @heartubeatusalon

[fleabagspurplewife]

one last time: part 2

G-Dragon x reader

summary: all smut basically, you and jiyong try to figure out what this means for your 'relationship' after your breakup

warnings: minors dni!! smut smut smut, basically no plot, tiny bit of angst at the end, fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

part 1

Ji-yongs hand trailing up your back is your last chance to end what's about to happen. if you stop right here and leave, you can both pretend it never happened. this is the point of no return. you should stop him.

but you don't. you never do.

your head remains in the crook of his neck, your leg sprawled over his waist. because you're so focused on not breathing too shallow, on not whimpering, on staying in your position, you absentmindedly grasp the collar of his shirt in your first. every inch his hand moves up your back, so excruciatingly slowly, makes you clench harder. you press the leg you have draped over him harder and harder into his thigh; he's getting painful to resist and he knows it.

when his hand reaches your neck, he wraps around it and pauses. the stillness of his hand, the way you can feel his thundering pulse through his palm forces a muffled whimper into his ear. he knows how to drive you crazy, how to force you to be the first to fully give in. he keeps his hand around your neck and lets his other one drift between your legs. your body freezes and you can feel his smirk against your hair. he's annoyingly good at making you crazy for him.

he moves his thumb over your sweatpants, right where you need him, and just slightly presses down. you try to fight the urge to squirm under his touch, and this time it doesn't work. your leg constricts around him and your fist abandons his collar and instead grasps his hair.

you forgot how soft he is. his skin is smooth and delicate in a way he's not. your fingers are tangled in his silky hair, the ends still rough from the orange he had covered with a warm, honey brown.

you can feel each others pulse through his hands. he refuses to move; so fucking stubborn, as always. you know he won't move until you do. he could stay this way forever, painfully teasing you, but he knows you'll surrender.

your grip on his hair gets tighter and tighter and you can feel him holding his breath. finally, you rip your head off his shoulder and slam your mouth against his. you're both gasping into each other, desperately pulling each others hair and squirming against each other. your bodies fit together so perfectly that the way you move against each other is almost a dance.

he flips you over and climbs on top of you, letting his hands wander over your trembling body. he drops his head into your neck, planting frantic kisses on you. when he reaches the slight dimple by your ear, you pull his hair so hard he lets out a short, stifled whine.

he rewards you by slipping two fingers into the waistband of your pants, his cold fingers just tracing against your waist and stomach. when his lips find yours again, the weight of what's happening sinks in.

"we shouldn't" you whisper through hungry gasps. "i can't"

his fingers dip lower into your pants, lingering on the waistline of your panties, making your breath catch in your throat. "then stop"

"i can't"

you grasp at his hand, craving his warmth against you, desperately trying to bring him closer.

when he finally slips his hand under your panties, a strangled gasp escapes you. his hand strokes gently over your aching core.

"do you want me to?" he whispers into your neck, sinking his teeth in.

"yes" you writhe under him. "please, ji please please"

he nods into you and moves to your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. his fingers trace over your clit so softly you feel you might burst.

he can feel your pussy pulsing against his hand and it makes him growl into your mouth. you claw at him, trying to push him into you, but he resists and continues to just graze over you.

when he can tell you're about to beg, he finally makes his way down, nipping at you until he tugs your pants off. he pulls your panties to the side and flattens his tongue, licking an agonizingly slow strip up to your slit. he takes your clit in his mouth swirls his tongue around it, sucking it softly. you tug on his hair, trying to make him move faster, but he grabs your hand and holds it down on the bed. he continues to torment you until he looks up at you with a depraved smirk. "turn around."

your heart stops. "what?"

"i said turn around"

"why?" you tremble

"ill show you." his voice is hushed but the look in his eyes makes you flip over and get on your hands and knees, nervously shaking. he calms you by planting soft kisses down your back that would feel romantic to anyone else, but you can feel his hunger.

his lips make their way down until he pushes your thighs slightly apart and bites at them. despite your nervousness, you can feel yourself lean into him.

his movements were so slow that you didn't realize what he was doing until you felt his warm tongue against your pussy from behind. he slips it into your hole painfully slowly, sending shivers up your spine. he probes it into you and keeps one hand gripping your hip, keeping you steady, while the other moves to knead your clit. he feels your breath catch in your throat and takes it as an invitation to speed up, his touch becoming more urgent, his tongue driving into you as deep as he can. the warmth of his mouth makes you buck back into him, silently begging for more. his nails dig into your ass so hard you're sure there will be blood.

he pulls out of you and takes your clit in his mouth, greedily lapping you up, your wetness covering his face. the needier your whines become, the faster he laps you up becomes until he's too impatient to wait longer.

when you feel him pull away from you, you suddenly become aware of how quiet his room is. is this a bad idea? are you going to regret this? is he going to regret this?

your thoughts are silenced by the sound of him feverishly ripping his belt and pants off. as you turn to face him, his cock meets your drenched hole, spreading your wetness over it. the feeling forces a helpless squeak out of you and a husky moan out of him. "please stop teasing me"

if he wasn't so worked up over you, he would've made fun of your begging, but he needs you just as badly as you need him. this is your favorite version of him; desperate, whiney, longing for you.

he pushes into you slowly, every inch making you ache as he stretches you out, and you can't stop yourself from squirming under him from the addicting pain. even when you were together, no matter how often you fucked, you always craved how this part made you throb.

when he's finally fully in you, he tries to thrust into you slowly, but he's made you so worked up you can't stand it. his movements speed up until he's hammering into you, his hands forcing your hips back to meet him with every thrust.

he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back while pulling one of your arms behind your back and using as leverage to drive into you even harder. he's gasping and panting desperately, almost whining, his hot breath tickling your back.

you can't help your cries becoming louder and louder, forgetting that his neighbors can most definitely hear you. he seems to remember and drags you up by the arm he's been holding hostage until your back is flush against his chest. he keeps you upright with one hand loosely around your throat and the other clawing at your stomach.

he muffles your desperate sounds with his hand and lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, still pounding into you with a force you've never felt from him or anyone else.

the knot in your stomach is growing tighter and tighter, and he can sense it. he can sense you're getting close and his cock pummels into you deeper somehow. your pussy clenching around him forces a sweet, choked whimper to fall out of his open mouth, vibrating against your neck.

this was all you needed to come undone. your stifled cries become wails, gasping against his palm, desperately clawing at his arms, his hair, his back, anything you can reach. the sting of your nails raking into his skin and your pulsing around him makes him find his own orgasm. as you feel him fill you, he whines out a string of curses and your name.

you slump against him, both still panting. he gently straightens your tangled limbs and shuffles to lie down, pulling you against him. you tug his duvet over you as he traces soft spiral patterns over your flushed shoulder. your trembling fingers comb through his hair, pushing back his bangs still sticking to his glistening forehead. when your eyes find each other, you give each other a soft smile. you can't help but be a little sad. you don't want this to be the last time.

your eyes drift back and forth between his, both of your expressions fluttering between melancholy and bliss. you wait long enough for you to both find your breath before asking him the question neither of you wanted to hear the answer to.

"what happens now?"

"we- i have a cigarette," he smiles. "and you get comfortable."

"ji..." he never was good at serious conversations.

he sits up and moves you so you're still resting your head on his pillow. he lightly pokes your collarbone with his finger. "i'm serious. you're supposed to be quitting. i won't enable your addiction any longer." he sees the disappointed look in your eyes and breathes a soft sigh. "for right now, lets just enjoy each other. we can talk about it in the morning."

this is good enough for right now. you both want to savor this moment that you know is precious and oh so temporary. tonight is caught between a summer of half-heartedly cursing his name and the conversation that you know probably won't go the way you want tomorrow.

you're okay with letting the dread be brushed away, just for tonight, and letting this feeling linger.

a/n: i might write some more with this series in the future but we'll see. lmk if there's anything you want to see from them <3

tag list:

@succulentpk @petersasteria

[jiyongsangel]

Bad idea, Kwon Jiyong (G-Dragon)

Summary: you’ve been hooking up with your brothers bandmate, Jiyong. This time you do it in the bathrooms of the restaurant where bigbang are celebrating their 20th anniversary.

Warnings: mdni, 18+, just a lot of smut basically, p in v, Jiyong eating you out etc.

A/n: hope yall eat this up

He’d seen you naked countless times but right now you had never felt more exposed. Jiyong, your brothers bestfriend, had been hooking up with you in secret. You didn’t know if it was lust or love but you certainly knew that you didn’t want it to end.

Your back was pressed against the cold bathroom wall as Jiyongs mouth was dominating yours. You didn’t know if it was that or the way Jiyong was trailing his hands all over your body that was causing goosebumps to quickly spread all over your body. You knew this was wrong anyways but really? Fucking him in the bathrooms of the restaurant him and his band were at celebrating their 20th anniversary. You didn’t know if it could get any worse but neither of you could help yourselves.

His hands ghosted over your hips, up past your waist before finally resting just below your bare breasts. Your nipples hardened under the intensity of his gaze as he pulled away and licked his lips slowly.

“God, y/n, you drive me crazy.” His voice was hoarse, his gaze heavy.

He started kissing your cleavage, you were basically already whimpering as he playfully darted his tongue onto your nipple and hums, taking it into his mouth. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you threw your head back and moaned, he wasted no time paying your other nipple equal attention.

As You began to grind against him, he desperately groaned and detached his mouth from your nipple and started leaving marks all up your neck and jaw. When he finally reaches your mouth you whimpered needily.

“Please Ji, I need you.” You said, voice dripping with desperation.

“Ask me nicely then, darling.” He murmured straight into your slightly parted lips.

“Jiyong..” you whimpered impatiently.

He shook his head, a teasing smirk on his face.

“No baby, tell me what you want.” He said lowly.

You scoffed, it was pretty damn clear what you wanted. The way your body was rocking against his trying to find any friction to soothe the ache between your legs said it all.

“I want your mouth.” You whispered

“Mm, where?” He said voice still teasing.

You grabbed his hand impatiently and trailed it down to your panties which were already wet. His smirk grew wider.

“Use your words pretty.” He said as he slowly trailed his finger abit lower before stopping just to annoy you.

“Fuck Jiyong I want your mouth on my pussy.” You were running thin on patience.

“That’s my girl.” He said before leaning down between your legs at your mercy.

He snapped out of his teasing demeanor and quickly buried his head between your thighs, devouring you. You bit the inside of your cheek and squirmed. Fuck it felt so good having him eat your pussy.

“You taste so fucking good Jagi.” He said before going at it again. You tangled your fingers in his pretty pink hair, forcing his head to go deeper.

Tears started falling down your face and you had no idea why. “I know baby, I know.” Jiyong cooed as he slid a finger inside of you and then another before curling them inside. “Be a good girl and cum for me?” He asked almost politely.

Your legs started shaking as you got close.

“Fuck Jiyong.” You groaned as you finally came, left dazed. Meanwhile Jiyong was already sliding his boxers off, his hard length springing out. He took the tip of his dick and ran it up between my folds before sliding it in fully.

He thrusts in and out of you aggressively making you dig your fingernails deeper and deeper into his back. You were clinging onto him for dear life as he fucked you hard, desperately trying to stay quiet since you were in a public bathroom.

You felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter before it finally snapped and you came, him doing the same after a final few rough thrusts. “Christ y/n I fucking love you.” He groaned as he slid out of you.

He helped you clean up and get back into your clothes before walking over the door to go back out. As he reached the door he paused and looked back at you, who was following closely behind. He looked like he wanted to say something but the words got caught in his throat, so he just nodded and opened the door letting you out first.

You didn’t know if you and Jiyong would ever be anything official but either way you didn’t want to lose him so you knew you’d carry on doing whatever this was just so you could have him close, even if you knew deep down you’d always want more.

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Master list

[gds-daisy]

track 3: BANG BANG BANG

part 3 of made (atties version)

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!jiyong, sub!reader, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, teasing, praise, dirty talk, pet names, angst, friends to lovers, cheating.

a/n: i am so honored to be part of this collab with some of my lovely writer friends so i hope you guys enjoy the fic! also, the end is fluffy which is unexpected especially since i was assigned bang bang bang, but i didn't want to throw away the entire plot so please don't kill me yall

Tonight was supposed to be a distraction from reality…more specifically from your boyfriend, Jake.

He had been acting like a dick all week and you didn’t know what his deal was. The two of you were supposed to go on a date tonight that had been planned weeks back, but he was already 15 minutes late. Maybe he had gotten stuck in traffic or maybe he was still getting ready. He wouldn’t stand you up, would he? Wrong.

When another agonizing 10 minutes passed by, you knew something was up. Sure he was sometimes late when it came to picking you up, but he never blew you off entirely. This was unlike him, that much you knew for sure. That’s why you had sent him a chain of texts to make sure everything was okay.

“let me know if you’re running late”

“how far away are you?”

“did you forget about our date?”

“hello?”

Nothing. Not a word.

Okay fair enough. Maybe he really was on his way and couldn’t text you back. After all, he had to be careful while driving so he wouldn’t get into a car accident or any other serious situation that would prevent him from not being able to make it to your apartment. Perhaps calling him would be a better alternative.

As you pressed on the phone icon next to his contact, you could feel yourself become more worried. The trilling sound that came from the phone was practically mocking you. Just as you were about to hang up entirely upon the second to last ring, the trilling stops entirely.

“Hello?” Jake answers groggily.

“Hey! Are you on your way? I mean it's already 7:30 and you were supposed to be here about 25 minutes ago,” you remind him, trying not to get so worked up so quickly.

“Shit that was tonight?” he asks as if it’s the first time he’s hearing about this.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you say with a frustrated look on your face as your hand finds its way to your forehead, now rubbing away at your temples.

“Look I’m so-” he starts to say but just before he can finish, he’s cut off by a feminine voice in the background.

“You can join me in the shower if you’d like, baby,” you hear the voice say.

And just like that, you felt your heart sink within a matter of seconds of hearing those words. You didn’t know if your ears were playing a cruel joke on you when you heard the pet name escape the girl’s lips on the other line. No. It couldn’t be. This had to be a dream…a really fucked up dream. What you just heard wasn’t a misunderstanding, but you desperately wanted it to be more than anything. Sure, he had been an asshole to you sometimes, but this? This was a new low even for him. This was the same man who told you that he wanted you and only you forever…the same man who had told you not even three weeks ago that he wanted to marry you one day. But he was also the same man who had just made you look like an idiot. God, how could you be so damn blind? Now it all made sense…the way he had been distancing himself lately, the way he stopped complimenting you, the way he started giving you less than the bare minimum. You had cried over him so many times when he treated you like shit but would always want to be in his company whenever you had those crying episodes. It made no sense whatsoever.

That’s when a switch went off in your brain. He would never change. The cycle was constant, especially these past few months. He was constantly making you feel like you were in the wrong for feeling the way you did about certain things he did. It seemed like no matter how many times you told him how you felt about his unacceptable behavior, the more he would indulge in it. Not only did your sadness build up these past few months, but so did your anger. You couldn’t even count how many times you had gone to bed angry at him while he didn’t have a care in the world about how you felt. The next part of the cycle was you begging for the two of you to fix things. You hated begging for the bare minimum, and it was starting to get draining. As much as you always wanted to resolve issues whenever they arose, it was starting to be a more common occurrence than not. You were done. 

“Don���t you dare even try to explain yourself,” you seethed with venom that was practically dripping from your voice.

“Baby please! It was a stupid mistake!” he pleads. 

“The only stupid mistake made here was me wasting so much time on you,” you angrily say before hanging up on him entirely, not letting him have the last word for once.

You still couldn’t believe it had come to this. It was just too much to take in. On one hand you felt angrier than all hell, but on the other hand, you were in mourning. The guy you had once known was now just a stranger. A ghost of his former self. You should’ve seen this coming especially with all the telltale signs being right in front of your face, but like an idiot–you had chosen to ignore them even when it didn’t serve your best interests at heart. You had fallen for his whole “I-want-to-change-just-for-you” act. Hell, you were even an investor. 

The anger and sorrow were now plaguing your mind and heart. You couldn’t take it. You needed a distraction…a healthy one. One that would ease your mind even if it were just for a few hours at most.

That’s how you found yourself at your best friend Jiyong’s apartment for an early in the week movie night.

Jiyong and you had been best friends for years. You guys met at YG Entertainment when both of your groups were preparing for their respective debuts in the music industry. To say that period of your life was stressful would be the understatement of the century. It was filled with dance lessons and vocal practices that would drag into the long hours of the night. But that's what brought you and Jiyong closer together. Both of you shared the same experiences which brought great comfort to one another. Before you knew it, you had started hanging out with him outside of the walls of YG Entertainment. Whether it was a laughter filled movie night on his couch or a night out on the town, you always had a fun time with Jiyong.

There was something about it that made it so special. Maybe it was the fact that you could be yourself around him or the fact that you guys were always able to find new movies to watch, even if they turned out to be god awful. It also gave you something to look forward to each week, especially if it was a rough week. It was the only sense of normalcy you had ever known.

“We’ve got options tonight!” you hear Jiyong say from the hall before entering his room.

“I swear to god if you suggest The Human Centipede again, I will kill you myself Kwon Jiyong,” you warn, loud enough for him to hear.

“You know I was joking!” he responds back.

“Mhm sure you were, Ji,” you say with a scoff. “Now tell me what your brilliant mind has come up with this week”

“I was thinking we could watch either Scream, The Conjuring, or Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he suggests.

“Wow Ji, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” you say with a laugh, no malice behind it.

“And I’m almost offended…now pick,” Jiyong says.

“Let’s go with Scream…can’t go wrong with Skeet Ulrich. I mean have you seen that man?” you ask him rhetorically, a smile now spread across your face. If you weren’t completely caught up in your laughter, you would’ve noticed the look of disappointment that had taken over Jiyong’s once calm face. He knew it was stupid to be upset about, but that didn’t stop him from feeling that way. Jiyong knew he probably wasn’t your type, which always left a pit in his stomach. I mean for god's sake; he was in love with you. How could he not be? You made him feel like he mattered when nothing else did. You were his confidant, his support system, and most of all—the woman he loved. He hated feeling this hopeless. He had fame, money, and you…but not in the way he wanted. He wanted all of you, but he knew he never would be able to so what was the point of telling you at all? 

Shaking off his thoughts, he put all his focus back into the present moment. “Alright let’s get this movie night started!” he says, hoping it seemed enthusiastic enough to you so you wouldn’t suspect that anything was wrong. When you didn’t respond, he almost felt relieved. He let out a sigh before he drew his eyes to the screen and dug his hand into the bowl of popcorn, hoping the movie would distract him from this fucked up reality.

The final act of the movie had you on the edge of the sofa. All hell had broken loose as Skeet Ulrich’s character Billy was revealed to be the killer when he shot Randy and sent him flying through the table. The sound of the gun going off scared you half to death and made you jump backwards into Jiyong’s arms. His arms cradled yours in response and looked at you to make sure you were alright. “Are you okay?” he softly asks, the sound of the movie becoming nothing more than pure background noise. 

“No! He just shot Randy!” you let out melodramatically. 

“I totally saw that one coming…I mean how could you trust a guy with greasy hair like that?” he scoffs. All you could do was playfully slap his arm in response. “I really thought he was innocent, not to mention he betrayed Sidney too,” you pout.

“So, are you Team Randy or Team Billy then?” he asks out of curiosity. 

“I have no idea, Ji. I mean Billy’s hot, and Randy is sweet and geeky. It’s hard to choose. What about you?”

“I would have to say I’m Team Randy here,” he says without hesitation.

“And why’s that?” you ask teasingly, eager to hear his reasoning. 

“Well Randy is kind of an underdog…I mean think about it. He’s the shy and nerdy comedic relief and he seemed to really care about Sidney…not to mention that his hair is actually clean,” Jiyong explains.

“Kwon Jiyong, you softie!” you say as your mouth falls agape from his shocking response.

“If I'm a softie, then you're a scaredy cat for jumping at that gunshot," he mocks.

“You know what? I take back what I said. You’re just an asshole,” you say jokingly, now pulling your body away from his. 

“I’m so mean I know…” Jiyong trails, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes simultaneously. 

“C'mon let’s get back to the movie! We’re missing all the good parts!” you groaned.

And with that, both of your guys’ eyes returned to the screen, anticipating the rest of the movie.

As the end credits rolled onto the screen of Jiyong’s TV, the both of you sat there in shock, unsure of how to feel about everything that had just happened within the last quarter of the movie. 

“Holy shit…I did not see any of that coming…did you?” you ask him, still dumbfounded and trying to collect your thoughts.

“I knew that Stu was probably gonna be the second killer anyway, but I did not expect Gale and Dewey to still be kicking,” he shares. 

“Right?! I thought Gale was a goner when she wrapped her car around that tree,” you let out with a laugh.

“Plot armor at its finest, I’m telling ya,” Jiyong laughs back with a smile entrapping his face. “I’m still mad Randy didn’t get with Sidney; I will admit that.” he adds on.

“I mean to be fair look what she just went through…Billy was a damn psychopath,” you chuckle softly. 

“I think we both know another psychopath boyfriend,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear, earning him an unreadable facial expression.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct him. 

“Does he know that?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure I made my message loud and clear,” you clarify with a laugh.

“Good. That asshole deserves to have his ass handed to him after what he did to you,” Jiyong says defensively.

Jiyong knew he shouldn’t be acting like this, but he couldn’t help it. He hated seeing you upset whenever you told him the newest thing your now-ex had done to make you cry. He had been there for all of it even when you wanted to shut everybody out in the process. In his eyes, you were the best thing to ever exist. You were his entire world even if he wasn’t yours. You made him better. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend, Ji,” you say, sounding more bashful than ever as a pink tint takes over your cheeks.

“No, I'm saying that because I love you!” Jiyong suddenly blurts out before he can even comprehend what he just said.

Within a blink of an eye, the room fell silent. The two of you could only stare in shock as the both of you were trying to process what the hell just happened. Jiyong couldn’t believe himself. He had just confessed his feelings for you when he didn’t even mean to. It was just as shocking to you, maybe even more. This was the second time today where you felt like your ears were deceiving you. There was no way this was happening.

“You what?” you ask still in disbelief. You needed to know for sure.

“I love you…I always have,” he confesses with raw passion. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you how I felt. It was eating me alive…consuming me.”

So, this was real. This wasn’t the universe playing tricks on you. All of it was authentic. You could tell from the way the words fell from his mouth…the same way his song lyrics sounded. They were also full of longing and soft passion. It all made sense now.

“Please say something…anything. I just need to know what you’re thinking,” Jiyong pleads softly.

“I think I love you too Ji,” you admit, the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I think somewhere along the way I fell for you even if I didn’t want to admit it. I felt so ashamed especially since I was still dating him,” you let out.

“He never deserved a girl like you,” he says, almost sounding a bit harsh. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find his words to be attractive. Hell, you didn’t even realize your thighs were now clenched together as a result of his words. With each passing second, you were becoming more aware of the aching pain that resided in between your legs. You had enough.

“Ji…if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear to god…” you trailed, your voice laced with both neediness and lust.

That was all he needed.

Within seconds, his lips attacked yours and all you could do was fall deeper into the kiss like it was some sort of magnetizing trance. You knew you should pull away, tell him to stop, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. It felt right. The kiss was one of desire but also longing. You had been wanting to do this for ages, ever since your relationship was on a downward spiral. Your ex wasn’t the one comforting you after a bad day. Jiyong was. Your ex wasn’t the one who helped you pick up the pieces after a mental breakdown. Jiyong did. It was all Jiyong. How you couldn’t see that sooner was beyond you, but you didn’t care about any of that when your lips were currently locked with Jiyong’s with no sign of stopping.

His hands slowly trail down your body before they take their final resting place at your hips. The contact was one sparked by greed but also angst. As for your hands, they were now cradling his face like the crane of a claw machine. You could feel how desperate the kiss had become with his tongue now practically down your throat, almost like he was trying to prove something. He wanted you and only you.

Your bodies are practically flush against each other at this point, so much so that you can feel his clothed hard on through the material of your pajama pants. Just feeling it against your clothed heat was enough for you to become embarrassingly wet. You were never so needy before tonight. Your ex never knew what turned you on, let alone try to even learn what you were into. Every time the two of you slept together, it had ended with you feeling unfulfilled and dirty. Hell, he never even gave you an orgasm. Not even once.

“Ji…I need you,” you let out against his soft lips.

“I need you more,” Jiyong says with raw desire. 

“Then take me,” you challenge, your hand now brushing against the tent in his pants which makes him buck directly into your hand. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing to me, sweetheart…” he warns with no real threat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you innocently say as you plaster a shit eating grin across your angelic face while still palming him through his pants. 

That was it.

Before you knew it, your legs were now straddling his lap with a cobra like vice. His hands found their way to your hips before making you rock back and forth on his lap. You could practically feel his erection brushing away at your now needy cunt, almost like he wanted to tease you for the little stunt you had just pulled. “Now do you see what I’m talking about, baby?” Jiyong asks bluntly. He doesn’t stop there, no. His pace quickens just the tiniest bit, but it proves to be enough to have you moaning into his mouth which earns a smile from him. “You’re making it so hard to be gentle with you…” he warns.

“Who said I wanted you to be gentle?” you say mischievously.

Oh my god. You were going to kill this man.

It was like an invisible yet existent switch went off in him that made him crave you even more than he already did. Suddenly his lips draw themselves away from your mouth before they attack your lips. He starts harshly sucking away at the supple skin, which only makes your head tilt back in response. You knew that hickeys were inevitable with the way he was nipping at your neck with his warm mouth, which was slowly making its way towards your collarbone. He decides to strip you of your shirt in the process, now sliding it over your head before discarding the fabric to the floor entirely. Jiyong’s brown eyes are introduced to the sight of your perky tits, which makes him feel like he could come untouched any second now. He doesn’t waste anymore time before laying you down on the bed and pulling himself off of you to strip himself of the clothes that made him feel like he was being suffocated.

Once he’s down to wearing absolutely nothing, he gets back on top of you and immediately latches his mouth onto your pebbled areola. He drags the sensitive skin with his teeth, making you gasp in response. “Fuck you’re the most perfect girl I’ve ever seen…everything about you is perfect,” he mutters softly while still sucking away at your nipple. “These are fucking perfect,” he groans.

He switches over to your other breast, giving it the same treatment he gave the other one. This time however, he sucks even harder at the skin with the intention of leaving a trail of hickeys that would later be littered all over your exposed chest.

“You want me, jagi?” he mumbles both confidently and teasingly against the nape of your collarbones. 

“More than anything…” you plead almost sounding pathetic as you did so. 

“Let’s see how true that is then,” he teases. You were confused by his words at first. That was until he slowly slid his hand down your plaid pajama pants, earning an airy gasp from you. His fingers run over the lace fabric of your panties only for them to trace the now wet spot that had formed. “You’re drenched f’me and I’ve barely even touched you…poor thing,” Jiyong tuts. “Wonder what I would find if I just…” he continues before experimentally sliding two fingers inside your panties, slowly rubbing away at your clothed cunt with his fingers.

“Need more…please…” are the only words you manage to get out at this moment.

“Only since you asked so nicely…gotta get you ready f’me anyway,” Jiyong says with a pleased look on his face. He gets off of you for a second so he could properly discard your pants. Once he does so, he brings his fingers back to your heat and continues rubbing away at your heat, all while keeping a steady pace. He didn’t even have to pull his hand out of your panties to know that his fingers were already drenched with your slick and creamy arousal. Jiyong decides to take it one step further and slides two fingers inside your tight cunt as a way to gauge a reaction from you. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder blades which only encourages him to set a quicker pace. He manages to curl his fingers just right and finds that sweet spot deep inside you that even you didn’t know existed. All you knew was that it had you rutting your hips upward in an attempt to gain more friction. “Such a good girl…taking my fingers so well,” he praises. 

Jiyong knew his words got to both you and your cunt went he felt you tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t help but flash a cocky grin at this fact. It was also a telltale sign that you were close to reaching your high, which Jiyong wanted to give to you more than anything. “Cum on my fingers baby…I know you want to,” he coos into your ear, practically encouraging you to do so. With a few more harsh thrusts of his fingers, you finally came undone, your release creating a sticky mess on his fingers. Jiyong continued to finger fuck you through your orgasm, making sure you were fully satisfied.

Once you finally come down from the mind shattering orgasm he had given you, he pulls his fingers out of you just as fast as he did when he first inserted them inside you. You laid there panting as you tried to catch your breath after what had just gone down. While you were doing so, you see Jiyong insert his fingers into his mouth, now getting a taste of your sweet release. He closed his eyes as he relished the taste that had taken over his mouth. He knew one thing for sure. He wanted more–no. He needed more.

“You did so well for me…I think that deserves a reward, but only if you want it. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he says a bit softer this time. 

“I’m sure Ji, I promise…just need you,” you confess, a slight blush rising to your cheeks.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” Jiyong says as he kisses you on the lips once more. “Can I take these off?” he asks, referring to your panties. You nod at his question, which makes him feel more at ease.

Finally receiving permission from you, he slowly strips you of your drenched panties before throwing them onto the bedroom floor. You’re now leaning against the headboard as you anticipate his next move. The thought of it alone was enough for goosebumps to form on your skin. “Open your legs f’me,” he coos to which you comply with. His face is now nestled in between your thighs all while kissing the supple and soft skin. He takes in the sight before him and swore he was in heaven right now. It seemed too good to be true, almost like he was having a surreal wet dream. Just being so close to your bare pussy was enough for the blood in his body to rush directly to his already hard dick. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to devour you. 

And with that, he teasingly licks a long stripe against your glistening and aching folds. He lets out a guttural groan as he tastes you. The tip of his tongue disappears as it makes its way inside your core entirely. The sudden intrusion has you tugging at his hair for support, which only eggs him on further. You could feel every flick of his tongue as it brushed against your swollen clit ever so skillfully. It was as if devouring your cunt and taking in the smell of you were the only things keeping Jiyong alive in this moment. He was a man starved and now here you were–all sprawled out for him on his bed and squirming with each stroke of his tongue as it lapped away at your poor little pussy. Even the sound of your juices being extracted with his tongue was music to his ears.

“Just like that!” you exclaim with a pornographic moan, now grinding against his face in order to gain more friction. Jiyong’s tongue continues to assault your cunt at the pace he had previously set. He was getting drunk on your pussy already, but he didn’t give a damn. 

“Fuck jagi…tastes so sweet,” he garbled, his mouth still flush against your warm flesh. Suddenly, you felt him sucking away at the lips of your labia, almost as if he was trying to make out with your pussy entirely. You wouldn’t be wrong. Your cunt was the best thing he ever tasted in his life and he would gladly die in between your legs if it came down to it. Jiyong violently started shaking his head in an attempt to lick up all your juices that were smeared against your delicious cunt. The sensation of his tongue dragging up and down your sore folds had you curling your toes in response.

 You didn’t know if it was because of how sensitive your last orgasm had left you or not, but you could feel a coil start to form within the walls of your tummy, the pressure becoming too much to bear. Nevertheless, Jiyong could feel how clenched your pussy had become for him while his mouth was still consuming you.

“I’m gonna cum Ji!” you moan ever so pathetically.

“Come on aein, give it to me…make a mess all over my face,” he softly orders you. “Show how good of a girl you can be.” With a few more flicks of his tongue, your second orgasm of the night hits you like a freight train, your release now covering his gorgeous face. His tongue works you through your orgasm by lapping away at any remaining juices that may have escaped his tongue the first time around. He finally pulls away from your heat before wiping his chin with his fingers. After doing so, he makes sure to slide his fingers into his mouth before cleaning them entirely, not letting a single drop go to waste. 

After laying on the bed motionless for a hot second, you somehow muster the strength to sit up straight and get close enough to Jiyong until your lips are practically brushing against the shell of his ear.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper seductively, but also with a hint of vulnerability.

“Is that so?” he implores, awaiting whatever answer you would give him. 

“Mhmmm,” you hum.

“I think we can arrange that,” he says before he connects his lips with yours and positions the two of you flush against one another, now laying down on the bed. You can feel how hard his erection is against your bare and exposed pussy. His cock is practically brushing against your drenched folds and it’s agonizing. 

“Please…need your cock inside me…can’t wait any longer,” you beg out of impatience.

“How do you want it? You want it slow or fast, angel?” Jiyong asks you.

“I want it fast,” you claim.

“Okay baby, it might hurt at first. Just let me know if you want to stop at all and I will. Your pleasure is just as important as mine,” he says, placing a peck on your lips. 

Before you know it, he slides his cock into you all at once, giving you almost no time to adjust to his size. The stretch was one that burned, but also felt so fucking delicious. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and he hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Ready jagi?” he asks with a grin on his face. You nodded at his words, which was the only green light he needed. He had immediately started thrusting into your tight hole at an ungodly pace, one that made a string of moans expel from your plush lips. Your hips were grinding against his, which made it easier for his cock to brush your g-spot in a way that Jake never did. “Fuck baby…you feel so good squeezing me so tight like this…bet he never fucked you the way you deserved, hm?” he asks mockingly.

“N-no he didn’t,” you cry out as his cock continued to pummel into your abused cunt.

“What a fucking shame…had the most beautiful girl ever and couldn’t please her,” he says in between grunts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as the headboard was practically hitting the thin walls of his bedroom. He didn’t care if the upstairs neighbors could hear the two of you going at it like rabbits in heat. All he was focused on was fucking you like his life depended on it. “But it’s okay baby because your Jiyongie is here to help you.”

“Harder!” you cry out as your eyes screw shut. 

Hearing how desperate you were only made Jiyong more turned on. The fact that he was the one making you feel like this. The fact that  he got to hear your pleas escape your pretty lips. He knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. Just like you wouldn’t. 

His thrusts had become more erratic and messy at this point. Both of you could feel his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass perfectly, only adding to the eroticness of it all. You felt the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you as he pounded into you with his fat cock.There were so many sensations coursing through your body to the point where it was overstimulating for your brain to process them all. It felt like you were on cloud nine, but in a more exhilarating way that had you gripping at the sheets due to how intense it was. 

All of a sudden, you feel yourself clench around his cock once more as he continues his movements. Yeah, you were definitely close.

“I’m gonna cum…oh fuck,” you warn him.

“I know, sweet girl. I know. Let go for me…I wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” he says almost in a hushed whisper. 

With a few more slams of his hips, you felt a jolt deep inside you, resulting in your third orgasm of the night. The feeling of you gushing all over him propelled him to slam into you a few more times before eventually emptying himself inside you with a groan, all hot and sticky. His movements finally slowed down as the two of you came down from your shared climaxes. Eventually, he pulled out of you and laid down on the opposite side of your body. The two of you were now looking directly into each other's eyes, almost with the intention of staying lost in them forever. 

His hand finds its way to your cheek, now cradling it softly with admiration. “You did so well for me…I’m sorry if it was too much,” he apologizes.

“Are you kidding me? That was amazing.” you assure him with a tired smile.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he says, his voice above a whisper.

“I appreciate it, Ji. I really do. You made me feel so special and cared for,” you say.

“That's because you are special. You’re the most special girl I’ve ever met and will ever meet,” Jiyong replies. “You’re my everything”.

“You’re my everything too…you always have been,” you confess.

“C’mere,” he says while motioning you to come closer with his free hand.

You do as he says and within no time, your lips reunite with his in a slow and tender kiss. Not one filled with lust or greed. Just a pure kiss. The kiss lasts for a few seconds more before Jiyong pulls away.

“I meant what I said earlier…I love you with everything I have,” he says sheepishly.

“And so did I,” you say with a laugh.

Things were finally right.

writers: @namsgyu @mashtatosworld @gdinthehouseee @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @eru-vande @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @breakmeoff @makeitworse

readers: @seungttttop @keiraryan @moontabi @mintandmuse @steponupbabe @heartubeatusalon @burningheartdetective @thanosspills @aizshallnotbefound @ttturnitup

[loveesiren]

𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚎 ��𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝙲𝚛𝚢

Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon) x Reader

a/n: hehehe I was thinking about this time I had sex on acid and I needed to write something. First Jiyong fic so I hope you like! also, disclaimer: in no way shape or form am I trying to convey that GD is like this or uses any sort of drugs. This is purely fiction. Also, if you use any sort of drugs, please be smart and safe. Not all trips are like this so please don't go out trying get this experience 😭

synopsis: Y/n and Ji-yong had been best friends for years but their relationship reaches a new level when they get the chance to try something new.

warnings: drug use (LSD), tripping, smut, fluff, sex under the influence

wc: 3k

“Have you ever done it before?” you asked, holding up the small baggie between your fingers. Inside, two tiny, rainbow-dipped squares of paper rested delicately against the plastic, shimmering under the dim glow of the living room light.

Jiyong glanced down at them, his dark eyes reflecting curiosity and just a hint of hesitation. “No. Have you?”

You shook your head, lips curling slightly at the thought. “Dae gave them to me. On the house—said it was the coolest experience she’s ever had.” You tilted your head, studying Jiyong’s expression. “She said it makes everything… I don’t know, awesome.”

Jiyong sat cross-legged beside you on the couch, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at the tabs. “I’m down if you’re down,” he finally said, his voice lighter, reassuring. He was your best friend, after all. If anyone made you feel safe trying something new, it was him. “I still have a few days off. It won’t last that long, right?”

“Dae said about twelve hours,” you reassured him. “Give or take.”

He hummed, eyes flicking up to yours before a slow grin stretched across his face. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Your stomach fluttered with nervous excitement as you tore open the bag, handing him one of the delicate squares before pressing your own onto your tongue. It tasted like nothing, dissolving slightly as it settled in your mouth.

“She said to let it sit for a while,” you murmured, pressing it between your gums as Jiyong followed suit. A few seconds of silence passed. “What should we do while we wait?” you asked, shifting your weight on the couch.

Jiyong shrugged, scrolling through the seemingly endless options on the TV. “Wanna watch a movie?”

You nodded, curling into the couch cushions as he finally settled on Alice in Wonderland. “If we’re gonna trip, might as well watch something trippy.”

You chuckled. “Good choice.”

As the film began, the room grew darker, the screen’s colorful animations painting both of your faces in a kaleidoscope of hues. Time felt like a strange, stretchy concept—minutes turning into moments, moments into lifetimes. The warmth of Jiyong’s body beside you felt grounding, yet the anticipation of what was to come kept you buzzing beneath your skin.

Then, about an hour in, it hit.

Your head lolled against Jiyong’s shoulder, jaw slack as the screen in front of you twisted and twirled, every color dripping down into the next. The walls breathed in tandem with your heartbeat, the air itself shimmering like static. You blinked slowly, watching as the ceiling seemed to ripple like the surface of a pond.

“Hey, Ji…” Your voice came out in a whisper, reverberating in your own ears like an echo in an endless canyon. “D-do you feel anything?”

Jiyong exhaled, long and slow, before answering. “I feel… something.” His voice wasn’t just sound—it was silk, a melody that wrapped itself around your skin like a warm ribbon.

You shivered, mesmerized. “Say something again.”

“Something?” he teased, turning his head to look at you, but the way his voice moved—like liquid honey pouring into your brain—made you gasp.

Your gaze locked onto his, and you swore his pupils had swallowed the entire galaxy. “Whoa, your pupils are huge,” he murmured, amusement flickering in his smile.

“So are yours.” You reached a hand out to touch his face, but as your fingers moved through the air, they left behind colorful, trailing echoes—shimmering ribbons of pink, blue, and gold that lingered for seconds before fading. “Oh my god,” you giggled, stretching your fingers again just to watch the colors dance.

Jiyong laughed, his voice vibrating through you like the strumming of a bass guitar. “You have, like… a pink aura,” he said, eyes fixed on you. “Like strawberries.”

Your lips curled into a grin as you stared at his neon-green hair, the strands pulsing and swaying as if they had a life of their own. “Your hair is moving.”

His eyes widened, and he ran his fingers through the strands. “No way.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “It’s alive. I think it’s trying to tell me secrets.”

Jiyong burst out laughing, throwing his head back against the couch. The motion sent a ripple through the air like a soundwave, and you giggled in response, feeling the vibrations of his laughter deep in your chest.

“I think we’re tripping,” you finally admitted, voice laced with wonder.

Jiyong sighed, a dazed, blissed-out grin on his face as he stared up at the ceiling, where the paint swirled in hypnotic patterns.

“Cool,” he breathed, utterly amazed.

Everything felt limitless. The walls of the penthouse no longer confined you; they simply melted into the fabric of your existence, expanding outward into the endless night. A sudden, undeniable urge pulled at you—you needed to see the city, to feel its pulse beneath your skin.

Slowly, you forced yourself up from the couch. The warmth of where you had been sitting clung to your skin, and for a fleeting moment, leaving it felt like stepping away from a cocoon of safety. A shiver ran through your body, but the sensation was electric, exhilarating rather than chilling. Your bare toes sank into the plush shag rug of Jiyong’s living room, the fibers so impossibly soft that they sent tingles up your spine. It was like walking on a cloud, each step sinking into bliss.

You glanced down at yourself—just a tight tank top and black panties. When had you stripped down? The thought flickered through your mind like a shooting star—there and gone in an instant, unimportant in the grand scheme of this moment. The only thing that mattered was now.

A soft gasp left your lips as your gaze drifted toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Seoul stretched before you, a sea of twinkling lights dancing like a mirage in the distance. The sight was breathtaking, the city pulsating with life, its energy calling to you like a lover’s whisper.

“Wow…” The word barely escaped your lips as your feet carried you toward the balcony.

Behind you, Jiyong’s fingers skimmed over his phone screen as he added songs to the queue, and the soft hum of bass-heavy dubstep filled the room. The vibrations seeped into your bones, thrumming in sync with your heartbeat. The sound wrapped around you like silk, and without thinking, you let yourself sway to the rhythm, your long hair cascading down your back like liquid gold.

You had no idea that Jiyong was watching you.

From his place on the couch, he was entranced. The way the city lights framed your silhouette against the dark sky made you look ethereal, almost unreal. Your body moved with the music, effortless, hypnotic—like a dream unfolding before him. His cigarette burned between his fingers, forgotten as he watched you sway in the cool night air.

You lingered outside, though time had become meaningless. What felt like moments stretched into eternity, and when you finally drifted back inside, leaving the wide balcony doors open to let the night breeze in, the clock on the wall read 2 a.m.

The music had deepened, the bass vibrating through the walls. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving, couldn’t help the way your hips followed the rhythm as you floated across the room.

Jiyong was still watching you.

You caught his gaze—hooded eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that existed in the universe. He sat sprawled out on the couch, legs spread lazily, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His black silk shirt was unbuttoned, exposing the intricate tattoos scrawled across his body. The dim city lights made his neon-green hair look like it was glowing.

“Ji, come dance with me…” You giggled, your voice carrying like the melody of the song playing in the background.

He smirked, the sight sending heat straight through your veins. With a final drag, he stubbed out his cigarette and rose to his feet, stretching his arms above his head before making his way toward you.

Jiyong took your hand, fingers lacing with yours as he twirled you effortlessly. “This is so cool,” he murmured, voice a velvety hum in your ear. His head rested against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as his hands found your hips and pulled you flush against him.

The sensation was intoxicating. His touch, his scent, the warmth of his body pressing into yours—it sent shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“Love you, Ji…” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, but they felt so natural, so right.

He lifted his head, strands of electric green falling into his eyes as he looked at you—really looked at you. “I love you, Y/n…”

Your breath hitched.

Something shifted.

This wasn’t just Kwon Ji-Yong—your best friend, your partner-in-crime.

This was your soulmate. The one you had loved for so long, but had never found the courage to say it out loud. But now, here, in this euphoric haze, the connection between you burned so brightly, so intensely, that you needed him. Not just his presence. All of him.

And he knew.

You didn’t need words. The way your eyes locked, the way your lips parted slightly, the way his hands gripped your waist just a little tighter—everything was understood in that instant.

Jiyong leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, and the moment they connected, fireworks erupted inside you. The world around you dissolved, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on yours, his tongue moving in perfect sync with yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer, and he groaned against your lips, deep and desperate.

Your knees gave out, but he was there—always there—catching you, holding you steady. His lips never left yours, only breaking away briefly to whisper against your mouth, “Can I take you to bed?”

The words sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Please,” you breathed, voice laced with need.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. He took your hand, guiding you toward his bedroom.

The king-sized bed was draped in silk and velvet, rich shades of crimson and black casting the perfect contrast against the moonlight spilling through the windows. The scene was beautiful—a reflection of the moment itself, dark and intimate, heated yet soft.

Jiyong turned to you, his fingers tilting your chin up before pulling you into another kiss—deeper this time, more possessive. As he walked you both toward the bed, his silk shirt slipped from his shoulders, pooling on the floor. His tattoos stood in sharp relief against his golden skin, and for a moment, you could only stare—dazed, overwhelmed, hungry.

The second your back met the sheets, you were in heaven. The fabric was cool against your flushed skin, sending a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Jiyong’s body hovering over you. His lips were everywhere—trailing over your face, your jaw, the column of your throat. They whispered over your collarbones, traced the curve of your shoulders, dipped lower to explore every inch of you he could find. His kisses were slow, reverent, as if he were worshiping you with each press of his lips.

“Mmm… Ji…” His name spilled from your lips in a soft, breathy whisper, a sound that sent a jolt of pleasure through his veins.

Jiyong grinned against your skin, his mouth just above yours, teasing. “Say my name again.”

You barely hesitated, your fingers tangling in his hair as you murmured, “Jiyong…”

A soft groan rumbled from his chest. The sound alone made your body ache for him. He rested his forehead against your sternum, letting himself linger there for a moment, savoring the way your heartbeat raced beneath his lips. Then, slowly, he hooked his index finger under the fabric of your panties, tugging lightly.

“This okay, baby?” His voice was hushed, thick with longing.

That one simple word—baby—sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, warmth blooming deep inside you.

“Yes,” you breathed, arching into his touch. “Keep going…”

He smirked, pleased by your desperation, and helped you out of your shirt, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he discarded the fabric. He took his time, trailing kisses downward, each touch of his lips sparking tiny electric shocks that ignited beneath your skin. His mouth traced a slow, tantalizing path from your collarbone to the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, lower still.

Your breath hitched when he hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them down your legs, his touch featherlight as his fingers brushed your thighs. The cool air sent goosebumps across your bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire smoldering in Jiyong’s gaze as he took you in, drinking in every inch of you like you were something sacred.

He placed soft, wet kisses along the inside of your thighs, taking his time, savoring your taste on his lips. The teasing was agonizing. Each press of his mouth sent waves of anticipation pooling between your legs, leaving you squirming beneath him.

Your own hands roamed over your body, desperate to do something, anything, to ease the ache. And then, finally—finally—his lips brushed over your clit, the first touch so delicate, so excruciatingly slow, that your whole body shuddered.

“Oh, god…” you whimpered, throwing your arms over your face as pleasure coursed through you like liquid fire.

Jiyong groaned in response, gripping your thighs tighter as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe over your dripping core. His tongue moved with purpose—soft, languid strokes at first, building into something more intense. He explored you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every moan, every breathless plea that fell from your lips.

Your body writhed beneath him as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, his tongue dipping inside you before sliding back up to that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking, sucking, teasing in ways that made you tremble. The pleasure was overwhelming, your body tensing, ready to snap.

“Fuck, Ji… I’m gonna—” You gasped, hands clutching the silk sheets.

But just as your orgasm coiled in your stomach, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and aching, the loss so sudden it was nearly painful.

A whimper of protest left your lips, but Jiyong was already climbing back up your body, his lips ghosting over your skin, soothing you with each kiss. His hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans as he kissed his way up your neck, over your cheek, finally capturing your lips in a heated, dizzying kiss.

“I want you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice husky, needy. “I want you to cum with me inside you.”

The words alone sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

He finally rid himself of his pants, and in that moment, both of you were fully bare, bodies pressed together, skin to skin. The heat of him, the weight of him, the way his body fit against yours—it was intoxicating. Overwhelming. Perfect.

Jiyong cupped your cheek, searching your gaze. “Is this okay, baby? Can I make love to you?” His voice was breathless, almost nervous.

“God, yes,” you whined, pulling him down into another kiss.

He smiled against your lips, then slowly—so agonizingly slow—he pushed inside of you, inch by inch. The stretch was delicious, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure, and your eyes fluttered shut as you adjusted to his size. A low, guttural groan escaped Jiyong’s throat, his forehead dropping to yours.

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. The sight of you—lips parted, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with pleasure—made his stomach tighten. But when he noticed the glassy shimmer in your eyes, his breath hitched.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, concern flickering across his face.

A soft, adoring smile graced your lips. “Yes… yes. I just—” You exhaled shakily. “I just love you.”

Jiyong’s heart clenched, and his expression softened into something breathtakingly tender. He pressed his lips to yours, slow and deep, before murmuring, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this…”

And then he moved.

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, filled with an aching kind of passion that sent pleasure rolling through your body in waves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, gasping at the way he stretched you, filled you. The sensation was intoxicating—the friction, the heat, the way he fit inside you like he was made for you.

Your nails raked down his back, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer, deeper. His pace quickened, his breath ragged as he lost himself in you, in the way your body responded to his every move.

He looked down at you, his eyes dark with awe. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your lips. “Oh God, Y/n… You’re so beautiful. So pretty you could make the stars cry…” he whispered.

His words pushed you over the edge.

“Fuck, Ji—I love you, I love you!” you cried, your whole body trembling as pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. A single, warm tear slid down your cheek as your release shattered through you.

Jiyong groaned, burying his face in your neck as he followed, his body tensing before he spilled inside you, his fingers lacing with yours as he held onto you through it all.

The moment stretched, warm and golden, neither of you wanting to move, to break the connection. He didn’t pull out right away, simply resting against you, his head on your shoulder, his hand still gripping yours. You felt whole. Complete. “I love you…” he whispered.

When he finally slipped out of you, he rolled to the side, still holding you close, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. Both of you were a euphoric, breathless mess, your skin slick with sweat, hearts still hammering in unison.

Silence stretched between you, comfortable and warm.

Then, softly, Jiyong murmured, “Do you wanna take a shower? With me?” There was a slight nervousness in his voice, as if he wasn’t sure how to ask.

You smiled, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Yes.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, leading you toward the bathroom, you knew—this was only the beginning of something you’d been yearning for for years.

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[ikwon1c]

Noona (3)

noona 4

characters: kwon jiyong x y/n

summary: you and jiyong can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, no matter how risky—or public—the setting. but seunghyun’s starting to notice something, and if he puts the pieces together, everything could explode.

tags: 18+, smut, public sex, risky quickie, secret relationship, tension-filled dinner

—

At this point, you can’t count how many times you’ve let yourself fall back into his hands, his mouth, his bed.

Every time you swear it’s the last—and every time, he makes sure you forget why you said it in the first place. The worst part wasn’t that you’d fucked him again.It was that you’d liked it more the second time. And the third, on your car right after that party.

And now, the fourth time.

And that you’d been the one to text him “u up?” at 2:17 a.m. last night like a damn cliché, knowing full well he’d show up with that smug smile, that chain around his neck, and absolutely no intention of leaving in the morning.

Which is why, when you woke up to the sound of your doorbell buzzing at 10:09 a.m.—hungover, half-naked, Jiyong snoring beside you—you panicked.

You tripped out of bed and smacked his shoulder. “Wake up. Wake up. Someone’s at the door.”

He barely cracked an eye. “Tell them to fuck off.”

“I can’t! What if it’s Seunghyun?!”

That got him sitting up. “Hyung?”

“Who the hell else would come to my apartment unannounced on a weekend morning?!”

You ran to the bathroom to splash water on your face. Jiyong groaned and dragged himself to the window, peeking through the blinds.

“…Shit.”

“What?!”

He turned, mouth twisted in amusement. “It’s Youngbae.”

Your blood turned to ice. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

You screamed into your hands.

You shoved Jiyong into the bedroom, tossing his hoodie at him like it might erase the scent of sweat and sex still clinging to his skin.

“If he sees you—”

“What?” he drawled, tugging it on. “He’s gonna give me a lecture about respecting hyung’s noona while I’m still hard from last night?”

You nearly screamed again.

“Shut up and stay quiet.”

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you in your robe. “You know he’s gonna figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not gonna be today.”

You slammed the door shut in his face and sprinted to the front.

Youngbae stood there looking too damn wholesome for someone interrupting your walk of shame.

“Morning, noona,” he said, holding up two iced coffees.

“You—” You smoothed your hair. “You didn’t text.”

“Thought I’d surprise you.” He smiled. “You look… comfy.”

You crossed your arms over your robe. “I was sleeping.”

He stepped inside like he owned the place. “Alone?”

You nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

Youngbae set the drinks on the counter, looking around casually. “Smells like something got steamed in here.”

Your whole face burned.

“Relax,” he said, shooting you a look. “I’m not Seunghyun.”

You tried to play it off. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Yeah.” He plopped onto the couch. “Hyung’s been asking about you. Said you’ve been ghosting him.”

You winced. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Too busy to answer your brother’s calls?”

You flinched again.

Youngbae softened. “He misses you. We all do. You coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t make us drag you.” He smiled. “Besides, it’s been weird without you. Jiyong’s… different.”

You froze. “What do you mean?”

“Dunno. Just… moodier. And smug. Like he’s up to something.” Youngbae looked at you, suspicious but not accusing. “Should I be worried?”

You kept your voice even. “He’s always like that.”

“Mm. Just don’t let him get in your head. He plays too hard for someone who doesn’t know when to stop.”

Your throat tightened.

“I’ll come to dinner,” you mumbled.

Youngbae smiled, satisfied. “Good. Wear something cute. We haven’t roasted you in a while.”

You flipped him off as he left, and he blew you a kiss.

Jiyong emerged ten minutes later, fully dressed and smug as hell. “Did he sniff the sheets?”

“Shut up.”

He looped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck. “You’re cute when you’re panicking.”

“You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

He kissed lower, teeth grazing your skin. “You missed me already.”

You shoved him off. “You need to leave.”

He didn’t.

Not until an hour later, when he kissed you stupid against your front door, stole a pair of your lace panties, and told you he’d see you at dinner.

⸻

Dinner was worse.

Because he was already there when you arrived.

And he looked good.

Hair slicked back, a silver ring on his middle finger, and that smile that said I know exactly what you taste like.

You ignored him.

You sat beside Seunghyun, hugged Daesung, and drank soju like you were trying to blur out the memory of your own moans echoing in your bathroom the night before.

But Jiyong didn’t make it easy. He kept looking at you. And not just glancing — full-on consuming you with his eyes.

You ignored him.

Until you couldn’t.

Because after the third round of drinks and Youngbae’s off-key karaoke, Jiyong leaned close and whispered, “Meet me in the bathroom. Five minutes.”

You nearly choked on your water. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Four minutes.”

And then he stood up, like he didn’t just drop a bomb in your lap.

You lasted three and a half. The hallway to the bathroom was dim and quiet, muffled laughter echoing from the private room behind you.

You pushed the door open.

“Ji—”

He yanked you in, spun you, and locked the stall behind you in one breathless blur. Your back hit the wall.

“Someone could come in—”

“They won’t,” he said, pressing his thigh between yours.

“You’re insane.”

He smirked, mouth at your throat. “And you’re wet.”

You were. Pathetically so.

“Jiyong—”

“You don’t say my name like that unless you want me to fuck you.”

You gasped as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your thighs in one smooth motion.

“You wore a skirt for me?”

“I wore it to not die in this heat.”

He slipped his fingers through your folds. “Still counts.” Then he dropped to his knees.

Your hand slapped over your mouth just in time as his tongue slid over you—hot, wicked, relentless. He licked like he meant to ruin you, one arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you steady, the other hand gripping your ass as if he owned it.

“God—fuck—Jiyong—”

You felt the smirk against your skin. “That’s more like it.”

You came hard, legs trembling, biting your own knuckles to keep quiet.

He stood up, kissed you like he hadn’t just made you fall apart, and undid his belt with one hand.

“Condom?”

You stared at him, dazed. “You brought one?!”

He grinned. “I’m not a total idiot.”

You didn’t answer. Just grabbed him by the hoodie and pulled him in.

It was filthy. Fast. Desperate.

He fucked you against the stall door like he couldn’t stand the idea of not having you. One hand over your mouth, the other under your thigh, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

Every thrust was frantic. Possessive. Addictive. Your fingers dug into his back. You whimpered against his hand.

And when you came again, shaking, he didn’t stop.

Not until he finished with a curse in your ear, teeth grazing your neck. He laughs devilishly, “I love doing this with you, noona.”

You scoffed. Still breathless and spent, “Fuck you, Jiyong.”

He laughed under his breath, unfazed.

“I just did, noona.” He drawls, catching his breath, “again and again… until you stop pretending you don’t love it.”

⸻

You cleaned up as best as you could. He helped straighten your blouse.

“You look like you got mauled by a tiger,” you muttered.

He kissed your cheek. “You started it.”

You shoved him and walked out first.

Back at the table, Seunghyun blinked at you. “You okay?”

“Just fixing my lipstick.”

“You’re not wearing any.”

Shit.

You forced a smile and poured yourself another shot.

Across the table, Jiyong held up your panties and tucked them into his pocket with a wink.

You kicked him under the table.

He bit his lip.

Of course he did.

“Why are you two being weird?” Daesung asked, squinting between you and Jiyong with that infuriating, innocent curiosity of his.

“We’re not,” you said too fast.

“She’s mad because I beat her in Mario Kart last time we hung out,” Jiyong said smoothly, casually sipping his beer like he didn’t just rail you against a public bathroom wall fifteen minutes ago.

“You cheated!” you snapped. Everyone blinked at the same time.

Youngbae leaned forward, amused. “Hold on. When were you two playing Mario Kart?”

You flailed. “At Seunghyun’s place. Months ago.”

Seunghyun raised a brow. “Noona, the last time you were at my place, you left after twenty minutes because I burned the ramyeon.”

You grinned tightly. “Right. That time.”

Jiyong just smiled and leaned back, draping an arm over the back of Daesung’s chair like he had all the time in the world and not a single fuck to give.

The table fell into the familiar chaos you’d missed so much. Daesung was in rare form, trying to impersonate their old manager’s yelling voice while Youngbae laughed so hard he choked on his drink. Seunghyun kept muttering “idiots” under his breath but didn’t leave, which meant he was having fun too.

The food kept coming. More soju. More beers. More ribbing.

“You know,” Youngbae said, sliding a side glance toward Jiyong, “our boy’s been writing some spicy-ass lyrics lately.”

Jiyong didn’t even blink. “Inspiration strikes.”

“Uh-huh,” Daesung said, smirking. “You been in love, hyung?”

You choked on your soju. Jiyong didn’t look away from you.

“Something like that.”

Seunghyun raised a brow. “You’re too picky to fall in love.”

Jiyong shrugged. “Not if the right one makes it worth the wait.”

You knew what he was doing. The worst part? God, you liked it.

“You know what I miss?” Daesung said suddenly, turning to you. “When you used to come to rehearsals with snacks. You were like our sugar mom.”

“I was not—”

“Yes, you were,” Youngbae said. “You’d bribe us with banana milk so we’d stop complaining.”

You laughed. “Because all of you were dramatic and starving!”

“We were teenagers!” Daesung wailed. “You were our food god!”

“She used to lecture me,” Jiyong said, swirling his drink, “every time I skipped meals.”

“Because you skipped them to write lyrics at 3 a.m.,” you muttered.

“Exactly. Noona made sure I didn’t forget to live.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. The air shifted.

Just for a second.

Then Seunghyun groaned. “Alright, this is getting sentimental. Someone pass the grilled squid.”

Daesung stood up and flung his arms around your shoulders dramatically. “I missed you, noona. Please come around more. The company’s less fun when you’re not there being scary and sweet at the same time.”

“She’s not scary,” Jiyong said, lips curling. “She’s just strict when she’s trying not to flirt.”

You elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted and smiled wider.

“You know,” Youngbae mused, watching you both closely, “something’s definitely going on.”

You and Jiyong spoke at the same time.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Everyone blinked again.

“Drunk,” Jiyong coughed into his elbow. “I meant no. I’m drunk.”

Seunghyun stared at me, long enough to make me uncomfortable.

You forced a laugh, grabbed your drink, and toasted the table. “To being too old for your drama.”

“Yet here you are,” Youngbae teased.

Yeah. Here you were. Still wrapped up in all of it. Still pretending you weren’t tangled in something dangerous and addictive and impossibly hard to quit.

Across the table, Jiyong watched you over the rim of his glass. A hint of amusement was seen in his eyes.

You were reaching for the last slice of grilled pork when you caught Seunghyun watching you.

Not just watching—studying.His eyes narrowed just slightly, scanning between you and Jiyong. Like he was piecing together a puzzle no one gave him permission to solve.

You froze mid-reach.

“…What?” you asked, trying for casual.

Seunghyun didn’t answer at first. Just took a long sip of wine and tilted his head. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. The way he said it? It felt like a warning.

You glanced across the table. Jiyong’s smirk had faded. His eyes dropped to the tabletop, like even he knew he’d been too cocky. Too obvious.

Seunghyun set down his glass.

“Noona,” he said slowly. “How long have you known Jiyong again?”

You opened your mouth, but Daesung interrupted, completely oblivious and three shots past tipsy.

“Hyuuung,” he slurred, throwing an arm around Seunghyun’s shoulder. “Don’t start. You know our noona raised us like little rice babies!”

Everyone laughed—except you.

Daesung clutched his chest dramatically. “She used to yell at me for eating raw ramen off the floor. That’s family, man.”

“Daesung,” Youngbae chuckled, trying to rein him in.

But Daesung was on a roll. “You know it’s impossible. Noona’s, like, the big sister of BigBang. Like… if she and Jiyong ever—” he broke into laughter mid-sentence. “AHAHA. NO. No way. He’d be dead. Seunghyun-hyung would kill him!”

Your stomach twisted.

Seunghyun didn’t laugh.

He just looked at you again.

Long and hard.

Jiyong shifted beside Daesung and cleared his throat. “We should get him some water.”

“You should get him a cab,” Youngbae muttered, already pulling out his phone.

“I’m fine!” Daesung declared, hugging the soju bottle like it was his date. “Noona would never mess with one of us. Right, noona?”

You forced a smile so tight it hurt. “Right.”

Seunghyun leaned back, one brow raised. Like he didn’t believe you.

Like maybe—just maybe—he’d started to see through it.

You didn’t look at Jiyong again for the rest of the night.

But you felt him.

And Seunghyun?

He never asked again.