23 ┗━━━⊱ 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉! ⊰━━━┛
WORDS: 8764
WARNINGS: Angst, smutt, oral fem/receiving
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The first outfit had lasted twelve minutes. The second one had lasted eight. The third one was currently under review.
You stood in front of your bedroom mirror with your hands planted firmly on your hips, staring at your reflection as though the answer to all your problems might suddenly materialize between one blink and the next.
Behind you, stretched comfortably across your bed like a man who had never experienced stress in his entire life, Ji-yong looked up from where he was lying and smiled.
"Is this good?" you asked for what was probably the fifth time.
His eyes drifted over you. Slowly. Thoughtfully. Then he nodded.
"It's as good as the last one."
You groaned so loudly that he started laughing.
"It means you looked good in all of them."
You pointed accusingly at him.
"Come on. I want to make a good impression."
At that, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. The smile never left his face.
"They're my dumb friends."
"No, you don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
He shook his head. "They already like you."
"How would they already like me?"
The grin that appeared on his face should have been illegal. "I talk about you."
"A concerning amount, actually."
"I think Seunghyun threatened to block my number once."
You threw a pillow at him. He caught it effortlessly. Still smiling. Still completely unbearable.
The phone resting on the bed beside him suddenly crackled.
"YOU DID NOT TELL HER THAT." Jiwoon's voice exploded through the speaker.
You immediately lunged for the phone. "Shut up."
"You are being dramatic."
Jiwoon let out an offended gasp. "You think this is dramatic?"
You heard movement on the other side.
Then: "You should have seen her for you guys dates. I had to choose the clothes because she wouldn't stop changing."
"It was not three hours."
Ji-yong had started openly laughing now.
The absolute lack of support was unbelievable.
You immediately looked toward him.
"You are enjoying this entirely too much."
His smile softened. Not disappeared. Just softened. The teasing melting into something warmer. Something that always managed to sneak up on you when you weren't looking.
Your heart betrayed you instantly. Because somehow that simple answer felt more dangerous than the teasing. You looked away first.
From the phone, Jiwoon made a dramatic gagging noise.
"You two are disgusting."
"I don't support this relationship."
"You literally met because of me."
Before she could say anything worse. The room finally fell quiet again. For a moment neither of you spoke. Ji-yong watched you from the bed. You watched your reflection in the mirror. The silence felt comfortable. The kind that had become normal somehow. Which was still strange.
The words were soft. You glanced over. He was holding one arm out toward you. No expectations. No pressure. Just an invitation.
Your chest squeezed. Because somehow he still did that. After weeks. After calls. After dinners. After him practically moving into your apartment whenever work allowed. He still looked happy every single time you chose him.
You walked over. Without thinking. Without hesitation. Without fear.
The mattress dipped beneath your weight as you sat beside him.
Immediately, because apparently personal space had become optional at some point, Ji-yong wrapped an arm around your waist and rested his forehead against your shoulder.
A content sigh escaped him.
He considered that. Then nodded. "Fair."
You laughed. His arms tightened slightly. Not trapping. Never trapping. Just holding. And for a moment neither of you said anything.
The evening sun filtered through your apartment windows in soft golden strips. The room felt warm. Comfortable. Safe.
Then Ji-yong suddenly looked up.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"That wasn't a question."
His grin returned instantly. Dangerous. You already knew you weren't going to like whatever came next.
Then: "Seunghyun has a betting pool."
Then: "For how long it would take before you stole one of my hoodies permanently."
"You currently own three."
"You wear them more than I do."
"I won fifty thousand won."
You grabbed the nearest pillow. And this time he wasn't fast enough to dodge it.
Still his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his chin kept finding its usual place on your shoulder. Like he belonged there. Like your personal space had become communal property.
His reflection appeared beside yours in the mirror.
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah what?"
The words were spoken so casually that they somehow hit harder. His eyes met yours through the reflection. Warm. Fond. Entirely too sincere. Then a mischievous smile slowly appeared.
"I haven't said anything yet."
"The face that means you're about to be annoying."
His grin widened. "You're too pretty."
You groaned. "There it is."
His arms squeezed your waist. "Too pretty."
"You are literally my boyfriend."
"That doesn't make you objective."
You laughed despite yourself. The sound seemed to delight him. It always did. His nose brushed lightly against your hair.
"You sure you're trying to meet my friends?"
You immediately narrowed your eyes. "Don't."
"—are you trying to steal one?"
The laugh that escaped you was entirely involuntary. "Oh my God."
"You look like you're going on a first date."
He only laughed harder. "Okay, okay."
Finally, mercifully, he raised both hands in surrender. "I get it."
His eyes widened dramatically.
You immediately regretted it.
His grin became lethal. "That's my girl."
You hated how much your heart liked hearing that. Absolutely hated it.
He leaned forward and kissed your cheek. Quick. Warm. Automatic.
The kind of affection that had become so normal between you that neither of you seemed to think about it anymore. Which was honestly terrifying. A few months ago you would have short-circuited. Now you just smiled.
Ji-yong froze. "...Did you just smile after I kissed you?"
"You didn't threaten me."
"You didn't call me annoying."
You shoved him away. Unfortunately for you, he was still laughing. Very loudly. Very happily. The idiot. Then suddenly his laughter stopped. His eyes widened.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. Looked at the screen. Then looked at you. Then back at the screen.
"We might have a problem."
Your stomach dropped. "What?"
You did not like that expression. Not one bit.
"How late?" you asked carefully.
"—the reservation was for seven."
You stared. Slowly. The room suddenly felt very quiet.
Then immediately looked away.
His eyes flicked toward you. The answer was immediate. "...You?"
The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. A victorious grin spread across his face.
You grabbed your purse. "We are leaving."
"We are forty-two minutes late."
"There is no technically."
"There is always technically."
He laughed as you shoved him toward the door.
And somehow, even while scrambling to leave your apartment nearly an hour late, with your boyfriend teasing you mercilessly and his friends undoubtedly preparing ammunition for the rest of the night—you couldn't stop smiling. Neither could he.
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The restaurant was warm. Too warm. Or maybe that was just you.
Because by the time you and Ji-yong finally pushed through the entrance doors, weaving through tables and apologizing to at least three different waiters in the process, your heart was pounding hard enough to qualify as cardio.
You were going to kill him. Actually kill him.
You stopped walking. Turned. Pointed directly at him.
Ji-yong opened his mouth.
The door to the private room appeared. And suddenly— Your stomach dropped. Because voices could be heard from inside. Laughter. Conversation. People. Waiting.
You immediately grabbed Ji-yong's hand. Hard. The idiot looked delighted by this. Absolutely delighted. Like your panic was somehow adorable.
You took a deep breath. Opened the door. And stepped inside. Conversation immediately stopped. Every head turned.
"Oh, there they are." The voice came from Seunghyun.
Of course it did. The traitor. You recognized him instantly.
Lounging comfortably in his chair with the expression of a man who had been waiting for this exact moment all evening.
Beside him sat Daesung. Youngbae. Hyo-rin. And Soohyuk.
People whose names you knew. People whose faces you knew. People who suddenly felt very real. And all of them were looking directly at you.
Your survival instincts activated immediately. Without hesitation, your hand shot up. Grabbing the back of Ji-yong's neck.
And shoved him down. Hard. The resulting ninety-degree bow was honestly impressive.
You ignored him completely. Already bowing yourself.
"We are so sorry for being late."
The room fell silent. A beat. Then another. And then— Daesung snorted. Youngbae immediately looked away. Hyo-rin covered her mouth. Soohyuk looked seconds away from losing the battle.
And Seunghyun? Seunghyun outright started laughing.
Ji-yong straightened slowly. Offended. Betrayed. "Nobody is helping me."
"You deserve it," Seunghyun said instantly.
"I was only forty minutes late."
"Forty-two." You corrected automatically.
Ji-yong looked wounded. Everyone else laughed harder. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
You wanted the floor to open and consume you. Instead, you straightened and offered a small smile. Trying to salvage whatever dignity remained.
The room immediately softened. Because unlike Ji-yong—You were actually trying.
"I'm Y/N." A small nervous laugh escaped you. "Pleasure to finally meet all of you."
"Finally," Daesung repeated dramatically.
"Finally," Hyo-rin agreed.
"Finally," Soohyuk echoed.
Youngbae nodded solemnly.
You blinked. "...Should I be concerned?"
The answers came from four different directions.
You immediately looked toward Ji-yong.
A hand suddenly landed on your shoulder.
Seunghyun. "Welcome." His grin was suspiciously fond. The kind older-brother smile that immediately made you nervous. "We've been hearing about you for months."
You slowly turned toward your boyfriend. His ears were turning red. Red. Kwon Ji-yong. Red. Interesting. Very interesting.
"Months?" you asked softly.
Across the table Daesung immediately lost composure. Youngbae looked like he was fighting for his life. Hyo-rin was outright smiling now. And suddenly—You understood.
The table wasn't judging you. The table wasn't evaluating you. The table already liked you. Because apparently—Ji-yong had spent months talking about you. And judging by the look on everyone's faces—Probably way more than he realized.
"Let's all take a seat, yeah?" Seunghyun said, still looking entirely too pleased with himself.
You looked up to find Hyo-rin patting the chair beside her. The invitation immediately eased some of the tension knotting your shoulders. You smiled.
The moment you sat down, Hyo-rin leaned closer. "You survived the first five minutes."
Across from you, Ji-yong was already pulling out the chair next to Seunghyun. Which, considering how often Seunghyun seemed determined to publicly embarrass him, felt like a questionable choice.
"Have you guys ordered yet?" Ji-yong asked.
Youngbae lifted his glass. "Just drinks."
"We figured you'd be late."
Then a collective wave of smirks spread around the table.
Ji-yong immediately pointed. "I hate all of you."
The waiter arrived a few moments later with menus. Everyone immediately began looking through theirs.
Everyone except Ji-yong. Because Ji-yong opened his. Stared at it. Turned a page. Turned another page. Turned back. Then forward. Then back again. His eyebrows slowly furrowed.
She took a sip from her drink.
"Still can't decide what to eat?"
The entire table groaned.
Daesung actually threw his head back dramatically.
"So it's still happening?"
Youngbae looked genuinely fascinated.
Soohyuk looked between everyone. "He's still doing that?"
You blinked. "...Doing what?"
Eight seconds of silence. Then everybody pointed at Ji-yong. At the same time. Like a synchronized performance.
Ji-yong looked offended. "I don't know what I want."
"You never know what you want."
The table exploded into laughter. You found yourself smiling into your menu. Because somehow this felt familiar. Comfortable. Like stepping into a room where everyone already knew the joke.
Ji-yong suddenly leaned toward you.
Close enough that only you could hear.
The tone instantly gave him away.
"I didn't even ask anything."
He lasted approximately three seconds.
The confession came out so pitifully that you almost laughed. Across the table Seunghyun immediately noticed.
Seunghyun pointed directly at you.
"You're choosing for him now?"
You froze. Ji-yong froze. Then everybody suddenly looked at you. The realization hit at once.
The restaurant from your first date. Ji-yong staring helplessly at a menu. You making the decision. Back then it had been practical.
Now? Now it felt weirdly intimate.
A tiny domestic thing. The sort of thing couples did without realizing it.
Ji-yong nudged your knee beneath the table.
You looked at him. At the hopeful eyes. At the tiny smile. At the fact that he clearly wasn't even pretending to try anymore.
Then you sighed. Slowly closing your menu.
The answer came instantly. The table immediately went silent. Because apparently that wasn't a normal answer.
"Why is everyone looking at us?"
"Nothing." Daesung was smiling. Far too much. "Nothing at all."
You looked back at Ji-yong.
Then grabbed his menu. He visibly relaxed. Actually relaxed. Like a burden had been lifted.
Hyo-rin leaned toward Youngbae. "He's worse."
You ignored them. Scanning the menu. Thinking. Finally pointing. "This."
Ji-yong didn't even look.
"You're not even checking."
The words were simple. Careless. Automatic. And somehow they landed directly in your chest. Because he meant them. No hesitation. No performance. Just certainty. You swallowed. Looked back down at the menu.
Pretending not to notice the way Hyo-rin's smile softened. Or the way Youngbae suddenly looked emotional for absolutely no reason. Or the way Seunghyun quietly muttered: "Oh, they're disgusting."
And judging by the chorus of agreement that followed—everyone at that table seemed to feel exactly the same way.
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The dinner turned out to be surprisingly easy. Not because you weren't nervous. You absolutely were.
But somewhere between Daesung telling the story of Ji-yong accidentally locking himself out of his own hotel room in Paris, Youngbae exposing an ancient haircut disaster, and Seunghyun producing photographic evidence of what appeared to be the worst outfit anyone had ever worn willingly, the anxiety slowly dissolved into something warmer. Something comfortable.
The table was loud. Full of overlapping conversations and laughter and people stealing food from each other's plates without permission. The kind of dynamic that only existed when people had known each other for years. And somehow—They made room for you in it.
Not by putting you under a microscope. Not by interrogating you. Not by treating you like Ji-yong's girlfriend first. They simply... included you.
Asked about your work. Your hobbies. Your favorite movies. Whether you preferred dogs or cats. (Which immediately started a twenty-minute argument.)
And every time somebody brought up an embarrassing Ji-yong story, you learned something new. Like the fact that he once got lost inside his own recording studio. Or that he couldn't cook rice. Or that apparently he had cried during an animated movie and denied it for three years.
"Powerful indoor allergies."
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. Across the table, Ji-yong groaned and buried his face in his hands. And somehow—That was your favorite version of him. A man being publicly bullied by people who loved him.
Then, somewhere between dessert arriving and another round of drinks appearing, the conversation shifted again. Naturally. Effortlessly. Like all conversations eventually did.
And that was when Soohyuk looked at Ji-yong. Then at you. Then back at Ji-yong. A slow grin spreading across his face.
"Well." The grin widened. "At least it looks like he's behaving himself."
You blinked. Across from you, Ji-yong immediately narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, now I definitely will."
"What does that mean?" you asked.
The entire table went suspiciously quiet. Ji-yong closed his eyes. Like a man preparing for death.
"Behaving?" you repeated.
Soohyuk pointed vaguely in your direction.
"Well." Another grin. "I can actually see your neck."
"Your neck." The grin became evil. "Most of Ji-yong's girlfriends usually spent the first few months dressed like they were preparing for winter."
A second passed. Then another. Your brain slowly caught up.
Across the table, Ji-yong kicked him. Hard. Soohyuk yelped.
"I'm right and you know it."
"You're lucky we're in public."
The entire table burst into laughter. Youngbae nearly choked on his drink. Daesung looked delighted. Hyo-rin was openly wheezing. And Ji-yong? Ji-yong looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
"Oh, that's exactly what an animal would say."
The laughter only got louder. You laughed too. At first. Because it was funny. Because Ji-yong's horrified expression was genuinely incredible. Because his friends clearly adored embarrassing him.But then—Something settled in the back of your mind.
Because they weren't wrong. Not really. You and Ji-yong had been together for weeks now. Weeks. And yet… Nothing had happened.
Not really. Not beyond kisses. Long hugs. Making out occasionally. Falling asleep together on couches. Sharing meals. Watching movies. Holding hands.
All the small things. The important things. But still. Nothing more.
You glanced across the table.
Ji-yong was arguing with Daesung now. Something about defamation. His cheeks still slightly pink from the teasing. And the thing was—He had never complained. Not once. Never pushed. Never hinted. Never made you feel guilty.Never made you feel like you were withholding something from him. If anything, sometimes he seemed almost overly careful. Like he was constantly checking invisible boundaries only he could see.
The realization settled strangely in your chest. Warm. Confusing. Because for so long, relationships had felt like negotiations. Expectations. Pressure disguised as affection. A constant balancing act.
And Ji-yong… Ji-yong never seemed to ask for anything.
He was simply happy to be there. Happy to sit next to you. Happy to hold your hand. Happy when you texted him first. Happy when you remembered his coffee order. Happy when you showed up.
The thought lingered long after the conversation moved on. Long after dessert disappeared. Long after everyone started telling new stories.
And by the time dinner ended, by the time coats were being collected and goodbyes exchanged and Ji-yong's hand found yours automatically as you walked toward the parking lot—The question was still there.
Because maybe for the first time, you weren't wondering what you were afraid of anymore. Maybe, for the first time, you were wondering what Ji-yong wanted. And whether he had been patiently waiting for you to ask.
The drive home was easy. Comfortable.
The kind of comfortable that had somehow become normal between the two of you without either of you noticing when it happened.
Your hand remained tangled with Ji-yong's over the center console, his thumb lazily tracing circles over your skin while the city lights slid across the windshield in streaks of gold and white.
Every now and then he would glance over. Smile. Look back at the road. Then smile again for absolutely no reason. It was ridiculous.
You were starting to think the man simply existed in a permanent state of happiness these days.
"Did you have fun?" he asked eventually.
You looked over. His fingers squeezed yours slightly. You smiled.
The grin that spread across his face was immediate. Proud. As if he had personally organized the entire evening solely to make sure you enjoyed yourself.
"You told me a lot of things."
"You were annoyingly right."
You rolled your eyes. Across the dashboard, Ji-yong looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Those bastards seem to have made it their life mission to embarrass me."
You laughed. "Oh, please."
"You absolutely deserve it."
"You locked yourself out of a hotel room."
"That was confidential information."
Your laughter filled the car. Ji-yong groaned dramatically. Then squeezed your hand again.
"Next time has to be with your friends."
You immediately winced. "Jiwoon is dying to organize a double date."
"She's going to tell you things."
"I learned from Seunghyun."
By the time you arrived home, both of you were still laughing.
An hour later, the apartment was quiet. Comfortably quiet. The kind of quiet that only existed after long days.
You were already tucked beneath the blankets, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while waiting for Ji-yong to finish brushing his teeth.
Matching pajamas covered both of you.
Because apparently one afternoon Ji-yong had discovered matching couples pajamas existed and had immediately decided they were a necessity.
Not an option. A necessity.
You had protested. For approximately five minutes. Then he'd shown up at your apartment wearing his half of the set. And you had lost the argument immediately. Now? You secretly loved them.
Which was information Ji-yong would never be receiving.
The bedroom door opened. A moment later the bathroom light disappeared. Then— A dramatic sigh. A full-body flop. The mattress dipped sharply beside you.
"Ah." Ji-yong closed his eyes. "Home."
You snorted. "You're so dramatic."
"No." His eyes remained closed. "I've had a difficult life."
You smiled despite yourself. Then your eyes drifted back toward the ceiling. And unfortunately—Your thoughts followed.
Straight back to dinner. Straight back to that conversation. Straight back to Soohyuk. I can actually see your neck. The words had settled somewhere inside your brain and refused to leave. Because the implication had been obvious. Embarrassingly obvious. And suddenly—You were thinking about it.
About the fact that Ji-yong had never once left a mark on you. Never once pushed. Never once even tried. The thought sat strangely in your chest. Growing. Turning. Until—
Ji-yong was looking at you now. Brows furrowed. Studying your face.
"The something-is-bothering-me face."
You immediately looked away. "There's no face."
"There is absolutely a face."
He shifted onto his side. Now fully invested. Entirely awake again.
"There really is something."
"Did my friends give you the ick?"
The horror in his voice made you laugh.
"Because Seunghyun does that sometimes."
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
A pause. Then— "So there is something."
You groaned. Immediately. Because he wasn't going to let this go. Not now. Not ever.
"Sorry." He raised both hands. "If you don't want to talk about it that's completely fine but—"
You immediately regretted everything. "Your friends said you bite."
His eyes closed. Slowly. Like a man discovering new levels of suffering.
He buried his face in his hands. "Why are we talking about this?"
"Because now I'm curious."
His muffled groan echoed through the room. Eventually he lowered his hands. Looking completely betrayed. By his friends. By fate. Possibly by existence itself.
His expression softened slightly. "I don't know." The answer came quieter. Honest. "It just... hasn't happened yet, I guess."
You studied him. The answer felt genuine. Which somehow only made you more curious.
That stopped him. Completely. The joking expression disappeared. His eyes found yours. Steady. Careful.
You narrowed your eyes. "I asked first."
"And I'm asking because I don't want to cross a line."
There it was again. That carefulness. That constant checking. Those invisible boundaries he treated like sacred law.
Something in your chest tightened.
Ji-yong stared. Then let out a disbelieving laugh.
"You literally made them."
"I know." You groaned and buried your face in your pillow.
"Well—" A pause. Then your voice emerged. Muffled. "I am sick of them."
For a moment neither of you spoke. The room felt strangely still. Ji-yong watched you carefully. Not amused anymore. Not teasing. Just listening. Trying to understand. Finally, he reached over. His fingers finding yours beneath the blankets. Intertwining them.
"You know," he said softly, "the lines were never the problem."
His thumb brushed across your knuckles.
"The lines helped you feel safe."
The gentleness in his voice made your chest ache.
"You don't have to be embarrassed about that."
You swallowed. Looking away.
"Then what is it?"
The question hung between you. And suddenly the answer was there. Simple. Frustrating. Painfully obvious.
"You are too soft on me."
"You are." You sat up slightly. Frustration bubbling up before you could stop it. "You act like I'm going to break."
His eyebrows immediately furrowed. "I do not."
You pulled your hand away. Not because you were angry. Because you didn't know how else to explain it.
"You think about everything."
"Then what's the problem?"
"The problem is that you care so much you're scared of doing anything."
His expression shifted. Confusion. Hurt. Understanding. All at once.
"I am not scared of you."
"I'm not saying you are."
"Then what are you saying?"
You let out a frustrated breath.
Why was this so hard to explain?
"Sometimes it feels like you're waiting for permission to breathe."
Ji-yong stared. "You told me to."
The laugh that escaped him was entirely disbelieving.
"You spent months telling me where every boundary was."
"And now you're mad because I listened?"
You groaned. Throwing your head back. Because somehow this conversation had gotten away from you completely.
You stopped. Searching. Trying to find the words.
Ji-yong waited. Patiently. Always patiently. And somehow that only made it harder.
"I don't want to feel safe."
The sentence slipped out. Wrong immediately. His face fell. And you instantly regretted it.
You sat up straighter. Shaking your head.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
You looked at him. Really looked at him. At the concern already growing in his eyes. At the way he was trying to understand instead of defend himself. At the way he always did that. Always.
And suddenly the truth came out.
"I already do." Your voice softened. "I know you aren't him."
The words hit him immediately.
You could see it.
The mention of Eun-woo. The understanding. The pieces connecting.
"I know you would stop if I asked." You continued. "I know you listen."
His throat moved. A hard swallow.
You laughed softly. A little sadly.
"And maybe that's the problem."
"Because I think you've been so busy trying not to scare me..." You looked down. Then back up. "...that you haven't noticed I stopped being scared a while ago."
Ji-yong just stared at you.
Like you'd knocked the air out of him.
"You keep acting like one wrong move will make me run."
His gaze dropped. Because maybe. Maybe there was some truth there.
"I don't know," you admitted quietly. "Sometimes I just want..."
You hesitated. Then laughed at yourself. Embarrassed.
"I want to know you can't control yourself around me too."
The confession landed between both of you. Raw. Honest. Dangerous. Ji-yong froze. Completely froze. And suddenly—The atmosphere changed. Not dramatically. Not instantly. But enough.
The air felt warmer. Thicker. His eyes darkened slightly. Not with lust. With realization. Understanding. Like he was finally hearing something he'd been afraid to hope for.
"You think I can?" His voice came out lower. Softer.
You rolled your eyes. "Oh please."
A breathless laugh escaped him. "You really don't know?"
His head dropped. A laugh escaping him. Disbelieving. Almost helpless.
"I hide it because I'm trying to be good."
"See?" You pointed. "That."
You mocked him. And he groaned. Covering his face.
"That's exactly what I mean."
You stared. Then laughed. And suddenly he was laughing too. The tension cracking. Breaking. Neither of you able to hold onto the argument anymore.
And somehow that was worse. Because now he was smiling. You were smiling. And both of you were still entirely too close. Ji-yong's gaze dropped briefly to your mouth. Then lifted again.
You noticed. He noticed you noticed. And for a moment neither of you said anything. Then—"You're still annoying."
The command was soft, almost a murmur, but the weight behind it made your breath catch.
You didn’t move fast enough for him. Ji-yong reached out, his hand wrapping securely around your waist, and hauled you across the tangled sheets. You slid right into him, your knees bracketing his thighs as he pulled you flush against his chest. When your bodies collided, the impact was solid, warm, and entirely grounding against the soft mattress beneath you.
He didn’t hesitate this time. His mouth found yours in a kiss that started out slow—deliberate and deep, tasting like an apology and a promise all at once. It was the kind of kiss that felt like a conversation, his lips pressing into yours with a quiet reverence, as if he were still adjusting to the reality of what you had just confessed.
But the gentleness didn’t last long.
The moment you let out a soft, pleased hum against his mouth, his fingers flared against your waist, digging into your skin. The realization that you were truly, completely safe right here in his bed seemed to snap a cord inside him. The restraint he had been white-knuckling for weeks finally splintered.
The slow kiss turned alive, fast.
Ji-yong shifted, his mouth growing hungrier, more demanding. He parted your lips with his tongue, claiming your mouth with a sudden, breathless urgency that made your head spin. A low, ragged groan vibrated deep in his chest when you met him beat for beat, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, pulling him down until there wasn’t a single pocket of air left between you.
It was exactly what you had asked for—the sudden, beautiful danger of him losing control.
He pressed you back into the pillows, his body crowding over yours, but for the first time, the weight of him didn’t feel like a cage. It felt like an anchor. His breath was hot and frantic against your skin as he dragged his mouth down from your lips to trace the sensitive line of your jaw, his teeth lightly grazing your pulse point.
“Ji-yong…” you gasped, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him tighter against you as the sheets twisted around your legs.
“You wanted to know?” he breathed against your skin, his voice entirely ruined, rough and thick with a desire he had spent months trying to bury. His hips crowded yours, heavy and undeniable on the mattress, letting you feel exactly what you did to him. “You really think I have control around you, Y/N? I’ve been going out of my mind.”
He dragged his lips down the sensitive length of your neck, his breath scattering hot and erratic across your skin.
“I’ve wanted to kiss your neck since the moment I saw you,” he confessed, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly register that made a shiver ripple straight down your spine. “To bite it. To mark it…”
To prove his point, his teeth lightly grazed the column of your throat, a tiny, teasing nip before his tongue swept over the spot, soothing the sting.
A hoarse, breathless laugh escaped him against your skin, the vibration sending an intoxicating jolt straight to your core.
“You are so fucking pretty,” he murmured, the words raw, stripped of all the usual G-Dragon polish. He pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes wide and glassy with heat as he looked down at you in the dim light of the bedroom. “And I… I really want you to enjoy it. To feel good. Just tell me if it’s too much. Tell me what you want.”
The lingering ghost of his old caution was still there, but now, it wasn't a barrier—it was an anchor of pure devotion.
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, your hands slid up his chest, smoothing over his bare shoulders until your fingers tangled deep into the hair at the nape of his neck. You caressed the soft strands, your nails lightly scratching against his scalp.
Jiyong’s eyelids fluttered shut instantly. He let out a long, fractured sigh, leaning heavily into your palm like a man starved of water finally stumbling into an oasis. The sheer vulnerability of the gesture was staggering; a global icon, entirely helpless and yielding under the simple, reassuring press of your fingertips.
“Ji-yong,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the familiar, inked span of the angel wings on his skin.
“Mm?” he breathed, his forehead coming down to rest against your shoulder, his body melting completely into yours on the tangled sheets.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Your hands slid beneath the soft fabric of his pajama shirt, the sudden warmth of his bare skin sending a spark straight through your fingertips. The moment he felt your touch, he didn't even hesitate. Pulling back just enough to clear his arms, he whipped the shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere onto the floor, exposing the full map of his inked torso to the dim light of the room.
You crashed back together instantly, the kiss turning incredibly hot, frantic, and intense.
The bedroom seemed to vanish, leaving only the feverish rhythm of your mouths and the desperate scramble of your hands. Your fingers wandered blindly across his chest, tracing the lean muscle before wrapping around his shoulders to dig into his back. You scratched your nails lightly against his skin, demanding more weight, more pressure, more of him.
Every scratch, every demanding pull, had Jiyong groaning and whimpering directly into your mouth. He was entirely undone, his body pliant and completely responsive to whatever you wanted to take from him.
Emboldened by his total surrender, your hand drifted lower, sliding down the line of his stomach until your palm finally cupped him through the soft material of his pajama pants.
He was hard, painfully so, a heavy heat radiating right into your hand.
Instantly, Jiyong’s hand shot down, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist to halt the movement.
He broke the kiss, pulling his head back with a sharp, ragged gasp for air. His chest heaved violently, his dark eyes blown out and hazy with an almost painful amount of restraint as he stared down at you.
“No,” he breathed, his voice a gravelly, fractured whisper. “Not yet, baby. You go first.”
“What?” you whispered, the breath catching in your throat.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply captured your lips again, a brief, bruising reassertion of his presence before his mouth began a slow, deliberate descent. He trailed hot, wet kisses down your jawline, lingering over the sensitive skin of your neck until you were letting out soft, broken sighs into the quiet room.
All the while, his large hands caressed your tummy, the warmth of his palms smoothing over your skin before his fingers hooked into the hem of your shirt. Slowly, carefully, he lifted the fabric a bit, exposing the bare skin of your midriff to the cool air of the bedroom.
He leaned down, pressing a soft, reverent kiss right there, on the newly exposed skin.
When he pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes were locked onto yours.
He was analyzing you.
Scanning every line of your face, watching the cadence of your breathing, searching for even the slightest flicker of discomfort or hesitation. He was checking the boundaries, making sure the ghost of your past wasn't slipping back into the room.
But your eyes? Your eyes just screamed at him to keep going.
Seeing the sheer, unadulterated desire in your gaze, the last of Jiyong's hesitation completely melted away. A dark, predatory heat flared in his eyes, his mouth setting into a tight, determined line.
He slid downward, his body shifting between your legs as his hands smoothed up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your shorts out of the way. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he settled himself between your knees, his gaze never once leaving your face as he slowly hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear.
“Ji-yong…” your voice came out as a breathless plea, your fingers clutching at the bedsheets.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine. “Just lay back for me, baby. Let me take care of you.”
Slowly, smoothly, he slid the fabric down, completely exposing you to him. He didn’t rush. He lingered there for a moment, his chest heaving as he looked at you, his face softening with a look of pure, unadulterated worship. He reached up, his thumbs gently parting you, his touch so incredibly feather-light and careful it made your hips instinctively twitch upward, seeking the contact.
And then, he leaned down.
When his hot breath first brushed against your sensitive skin, a sharp gasp tore from your lungs. An instant later, his tongue made contact—a long, slow, agonizingly wet stroke from bottom to top that had your back arching completely off the mattress.
“Oh my god,” you whimpered, your knuckles turning white as you buried your hands into the pillows, your head tossing back.
Jiyong let out a low, muffled groan against you, clearly intoxicated by your reaction.
He didn’t hold back anymore.
His hands locked firmly around your thighs, anchoring you to the bed, holding you steady as his mouth completely consumed you. He ate you out with a fierce, hungrily rhythmic pace, his tongue swirling and pressing against your center with an expertise that had you completely losing your mind.
The bedroom was filled with the slick, wet sounds of his devotion, punctuated only by your ragged, broken cries. Jiyong didn’t just lose himself in what he was doing; he anchored himself to your reactions. Every few strokes of his tongue, he would lift his head just enough to look at you, his dark eyes blown out, heavy-lidded, and shining with an almost feral satisfaction. He was enjoying this—so fucking much.
You blinked through a haze of pure pleasure, your hands clutching the tangled sheets, and that’s when you saw it. His own hips were trembling against the mattress. The sheer, intoxicating effort of holding his own desire back, combined with the raw thrill of finally having you completely open and trusting beneath him, had his entire frame shaking. Just to eat you. Just to taste you. It was driving him insane.
He pressed a deep, wet suction right against your clit, and your back arched violently off the bed.
He pulled back a fraction, his lips glistening in the dim light, a low, gravelly groan tearing from his chest. "You taste so good, baby," he growled, the praise thick and ruined against your sensitive skin. "So sweet. Fuck, I could stay down here all night."
He didn't wait for you to recover. His tongue flattened out, delivering a long, agonizingly slow stroke from bottom to top that made your toes curl. His large hands moved up from your thighs, his fingers splaying across your hip bones, anchoring you down as his mouth completely consumed you again.
"Look at me," he commanded softly, a breathless, urgent plea.
You forced your heavy eyelids open, looking down past your stomach to where he was nestled between your thighs. Jiyong was staring right back at you, his chest heaving violently, his face flushed with a dark, heavy heat.
"You look so gorgeous, fuck," he whispered, his voice catching as you let out a whimper. He let out a low, breathless laugh, his tongue flicking against your center in a wicked, rhythmic pattern that kept time with his words. "Yeah? You like that? I'm doing that to you, Y/N. Nobody else. Just me."
Hearing him claim your pleasure so completely sent a dangerous, electric thrill straight to your core. You didn’t want to come—not yet. You wanted to stretch the moment out, to match his restraint, but your body utterly betrayed you. It had been too damn long since you had felt this safe, too damn long since you had felt this good. The heavy, unadulterated pleasure coiled tight in your stomach and snapped before you could stop it.
With a sharp, shattered cry, your hips arched violently off the mattress, pressing yourself completely against his mouth as you came right on his face.
Jiyong let out a deep, muffled moan against your skin, the vibration sending a secondary ripple of aftershocks through your trembling thighs.
He didn't pull back for a single second. Instead, his hands clamped down hard on your hips, anchoring you to his mouth as he greedily savored your orgasm, drinking you in as your body pulsed relentlessly against his tongue. He swallowed the friction and the heat of your release, completely intoxicated by the raw, uninhibited proof of how thoroughly he had undone you.
You lay back against the pillows, feeling completely dazed, your head spinning as you tried to steady your erratic breathing. The room seemed to tilt, the air still thick and buzzing with the aftermath of your release.
Down between your legs, Ji-yong was unhurried. He began pressing slow, hot, wet kisses along the inside of your thighs, his lips dragging against your damp skin. Every touch made you tremble violently, your nerve endings so oversensitive that even his softest breath felt like an electric shock.
A weak, breathy groan escaped you. “Fuck—”
Ji-yong stopped, shifting until he could look up the length of your body. He rested his chin on your inner thigh, his dark eyes wide, glassy with heat, and heavily hooded as he panted.
“You good, baby?” he asked, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that shook with his own rousal.
You covered your face with an arm, suddenly overwhelmed by how quickly you had unraveled. “I’m sorry.”
Ji-yong blinked, his brow furrowing slightly against your skin. “Sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to…” You peeked out from under your arm, your cheeks flushing a deep, self-conscious pink. “…not so early. It’s just been so long, and you were—”
Before you could finish, Ji-yong let out a low, breathless chuckle. He slid up your body, his bare chest smoothing against yours as he crawled back up the mattress. Carefully, seamlessly, he tucked his lower half under the tangled sheets, subtly hiding the rigid, heavy erection that was still straining fiercely against his pants.
He leaned over you, his thumbs catching your jaw to tilt your face up. “Hey,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with absolute tenderness. “Don’t you dare apologize for that. Look at me, Y/N. I loved it.”
You looked at him for a moment, biting your lower lip as your eyes flicked over his flushed face. Your body was still tingling, your muscles weak, but you didn’t want to leave him hanging.
“Well… you give me a minute, I catch my breath and—”
“As I said,” Ji-yong interrupted smoothly, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly register that left no room for argument. He smoothed a stray lock of hair away from your damp forehead, his gaze unwavering. “I loved it… so much. I came too.”
Your brows furrowed instantly. You knew him. You could still feel the residual, frantic heat radiating from his lap through the heavy blankets, and the timeline just didn't add up. Suspicion flared in your chest, and your lips parted to call him out on the blatant lie.
But before you could ask, he shut you up.
Ji-yong leaned down and crashed his mouth against yours, burying your questions under a kiss that was sudden, fierce, and entirely wild.
It wasn't the gentle, reassuring kiss from before; this was raw, chaotic hunger, a calculated distraction designed to completely scramble your brain. He parted your lips with a heavy, demanding stroke of his tongue, tasting you deeply, possessively, as if he wanted to consume the very air in your lungs. His hands slid to the sides of your face, his fingers tangling into your hair to tilt your head back, locking you into the fierce rhythm of his mouth.
The sheer intensity of it had your head spinning instantly.
The world tilted on its axis, the lingering fog of your orgasm blending with the intoxicating, breathless rush of his lips against yours. He sucked at your bottom lip, a low, guttural growl vibrating deep in his throat that made your knees instinctively weaken even while lying down.
By the time he finally broke away, your chest was heaving, your lips were tingling and swollen, and whatever question you had been about to ask had completely evaporated into thin air. He looked down at you, a heavy-lidded, utterly devastating smirk pulling at his lips as he watched you try to remember how to breathe.
“I need to change. Made a mess down there,” he teased, a low, raspy chuckle vibrating against your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look at you.
You were far too dazed to form a coherent answer. Your brain felt like absolute mush, entirely reeled in by that wild, breath-stealing kiss and the heavy, lingering exhaustion of your release. The words barely registered in a logical way, so you just nodded weakly against the pillow, your eyelids already feeling incredibly heavy.
“Be back in a minute, yeah?” he murmured, his voice softening into that fiercely protective tone you knew so well. He smoothed a stray lock of hair away from your eyes, his touch feather-light. “You just rest, baby. Been a long night.”
He leaned down and kissed your cheek softly, a tender, lingering press of his lips that felt like a quiet promise.
The mattress shifted as he carefully rolled away, lifting his weight off the bed with meticulous precision so as not to disturb you any further. You felt the cool air hit the sheets for a brief second before he pulled the heavy blankets back up over your shoulders, tucking you in safely. Through a tiny slit in your lashes, you watched his dark silhouette move quietly across the dim bedroom, heading straight toward the en-suite bathroom.
The soft click of the bathroom door shutting broke the quiet of the room, followed a second later by the dull, yellow glow of the light appearing under the door crack.
For a moment, the heavy exhaustion almost pulled you under, and your eyes closed as you nearly fell asleep. But you couldn't. The lingering haze of the orgasm began to fade, leaving your mind clear enough to notice the time ticking away. You waited for Jiyong to come back, but he didn't—not as fast as he had promised, at least.
The silence in the bedroom grew heavier, punctuated only by the faint, muffled sounds coming from behind the bathroom door.
Driven by a quiet, anxious curiosity, you slid out from under the warm covers. You grabbed the nearest T-shirt from the floor, slipping it over your head as you walked quietly across the cold floorboards toward the bathroom door.
When you reached it, you hesitated. For a moment, you almost knocked, ready to ask if he was okay. But your hand froze in the air as you realized the door wasn't fully latched—it was opened slightly, just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough for you to see his reflection in the mirror inside.
Your breath caught in your throat.
Jiyong was sitting on the closed toilet lid. One of his hands was clamped firmly over his mouth, his fingers digging into his cheek to muffle the desperate, ragged gasps breaking from his lips. His shoulders were hunched, his inked chest heaving violently, while his other hand... he was stroking himself, his movements fast, strained, and completely unraveled.
You knew it. The realization hit you like a wave of cold water: you knew he hadn't come.
A knot tied itself in your stomach. Why didn't he say anything? Why had he lied straight to your face, painting that beautiful, arrogant smirk on his lips just to hide how much he was hurting, how much he was craving you? Did he think you couldn't handle it? Did he think he was a burden?
Before you could let your thoughts spiral any further into the dark, familiar corners of your anxiety, you forced yourself to step back. Moving like a ghost, you retreated across the room and slipped back into the bed, pulling the heavy blankets back up to your chin.
You shut your eyes tightly, forcing your breathing to slow down, perfectly faking being asleep just as the faint rustle of clothing signaled he was finally finishing up.
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@mockingjaybirdd @daesungsleftnostril @mmmmaabbc @gdtabibaby @arisha-shhh @imsleepingwhataboutu @memloz@miss-worlddd @megs-orbittt @honeymoonheartt @missleezylou @nothing-is-real-inmy-world @gds-lost-petal @supertrouble143 @hrtswon @kittietyongie @gd1888 @bradfordmyworld @chocomintlatey@stealthyutopiaabyss
A/N: First time I write fem/receiving oral, so Im sorry if its not good, I will get better!!
Dont forget to like and leave a comment with your opinion... I love feedback!!
