Just one last dance

VIP 🌟 & FAM🌼

[headsinthecloudforever]

Hey! I'm Sar♡♡ I write simply for fun☺︎In this blog you'll find one shots and stories that all of us need for therapy. ☺︎☺︎ My posting schedule is as listed below♡: |Series: Monday, Tuesday, fri |One shots: sat & sunday 🌼Masterlist🌼

❃❃{Kwon Jiyong}

☾☪︎ {Choi Seunghyun]

🦋🩵{Upcoming} |updated as of July 14th 2026|

I prefer to write series but if there are any suggestions people may have the inbox shall be open! 🌼🌼🌼🌼

About me and my blog~♡♡☺︎

[headsinthecloudforever]

OMGGG DID U SAW GDS NEW HAIR IM CRYING HE LOOKS SO CUTE😭

I DIDDDD HE SUCH A CUTIE, im luvin the hairstyle as well 😝🔥 I DO MISS HIS BLACK HAIR THOUGHHHHH HE BETTER NOT CUT IT AT LEAST

[headsinthecloudforever]

Not me getting inspiration for a fic from the F.R.I.E.N.D.S ep where ross and Rachel go on break...heheheheh

maybe?

[headsinthecloudforever]

haii!! i have a request for you for whenever you have the time to do it!! If you want to of course

So i was thinking of jiyong being a tattoo artist?? Maybe?? And reader being some type of soft occupation like a kindergarten teacher (maybe more like a daycare person) and their workplaces are next to each other

HEAR ME OUT this is like a grumpy/sunshine trope type of thing and obviously im leaving the dialogue and ending whatever the PROFESSIONAL stuff up to you but i was hoping for a scene where one of y/ns kids ends up drawing them holding hands or just a cute thing abt them 2 and including that her kids always wave at him or say hi to him despite him trying to be intimidating.. even when jiyong thinks everyone on that side is irritating but we allll know he doenst really feel that way..🫣

please take this into consideration!! Youre such a good writer and im hoping to leave more requests sometime in the future!❤️‍🩹 have a good day

Hey Luv!♡

Thnx sm☺️ and the request is actually super cute! I hope it came out the way you wanted it to!

You can read it HERE

[headsinthecloudforever]

{A little bit of Sunshine☀︎}

|ONE SHOT|

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X reader

About story: Opposites don’t just attract—sometimes, they share a brick patio.

To the rest of the neighborhood, Kwon Jiyong is a walking red flag, radiating a permanent "do not disturb" aura, who also happens to run a tattoo parlor right next door to the chaotic, glitter-filled daycare where y/n work's.

Y/n is a teacher at Little Sprouts Daycare. Armed with pastel aprons, an endless supply of apple juice, and an unshakeable optimism, Y/n is the definition of pure sunshine. While the rest of the town avoids Jiyong, Y/n sees right through him—especially when she catches him waving hello to her students as they follow along in line past his shop.

Jiyong swears the daycare is nothing but an irritation. But when one of Y/n’s four-year-old students draws a picture of the "scary tattoo man" and the "sunshine teacher" holding hands, the lines between professional neighbors begin to blur. Can a man who deals in ink handle a girl who leaves a little sparkle everywhere she goes?

anon request~

─────── ·𖥸·

The morning routine at Little Sprouts was fueled by sheer adrenaline, spilled apple juice, and a playlist of nursery rhymes playing on repeat. Y/n was currently on her knees, untangling a particularly stubborn knot in a pair of dinosaur velcro shoes.

"There you go, Jiji.'' Y/n said, offering a bright smile as the four-year-old sprinted off toward the building blocks.

Wiping a smudge of blue washable paint from her cheek, she let out a breath and stood up. The school bell chimed, indicating the frantic morning drop-off rush was finally over. The toddlers were safely corralled, the assistant teachers had the circle-time reading under control, and Y/n finally had a three-minute window to step out onto the shared brick patio and grab the morning mail.

The moment she stepped outside, the humid morning air hit her, but so did the heavy metallic buzz of a tattoo machine coming from next door.

 Studio Noir was the shop that occupied the other half of the duplex building. The shop's door swung open at the exact same moment Y/n reached into the mailbox. Out stepped Jiyong, holding a steaming cardboard cup of black coffee.

To anyone else on the block, Jiyong looked like an advertisement for beautiful, bad decisions. Intricate black ink crawled behind his neck and disappeared down his side. He was built to intimidate.

To Y/n, however, he was just the neighbor who always left his bright neon parlor sign on late at night so she wouldn't have to walk to her car in the dark.

Jiyong stopped on the patio, lowering his sunglasses just enough to look at her over the wire rims. His brown eyes scanned her face, tracking the blue paint on her cheek up to the top of her head.

"You have glitter in your hair," Jiyong mumbled. His voice was a low.

Y/n didn't even blink at the blunt observation. Instead, she beamed up at him, her sunshine energy bouncing right off his solid exterior. "Good morning to you too, Jiyong, It’s craft day. Glitter is an occupational hazard."

Jiyong let out a low grunt that sounded suspiciously like a huff of amusement, though his lips didn't curve in the slightest. He took a slow sip of his coffee. "It’s a biohazard. It gets everywhere."

"It adds sparkle to the neighborhood," she countered playfully, flipping through the stack of envelopes.

Before Jiyong could retort, the fenced-in playground area right next to the patio erupted. A couple of student's noticed Y/n standing outside and instantly charged the fence, their tiny faces pressing against the wire grid.

"Teacher Y/n! Look at my rock!"

"Teacher! Min-jun took the blue block!"

But then, a little girl with pigtails named Sara spotted the tall, dark-clad man standing next to you. Instead of crying or running away from the imposing figure, Sara frantically waved both arms above her head.

"Hi, Mr. Tattoo Man!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs.

Jiyong froze. His coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth. He looked left, then right, as if hoping the toddler was addressing a different tattoo artist standing on the pavement. No such luck. Within three seconds, four other toddlers joined in, yelling greetings at him and showing off their light-up shoes through the fence.

Y/n watched out of the corner of her eye, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. Jiyong always claimed he found the daycare noise entirely irritating. He complained about the kid-friendly pop music bleeding through the shared drywall.

Yet, Jiyong didn't walk away.

Instead, he lowered his sunglasses completely, looked at Sara, and gave the toddler a tiny wave.

Sara giggled hysterically.

They adore you, you know," Y/n whispered, stepping a little closer to him as she organized the mail.

Jiyong quickly jammed his sunglasses back up his nose, "They’re loud. And they have sticky hands. I'm trying to run a reputable business here.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n agreed, her voice dripping with teasing sarcasm. "You’re terrifying. Terrifyingly bad at hiding how sweet you are."

Jiyong scoffed, taking another gulp of coffee. He turned on his heel, as he retreated into the safety of his dark, ink-scented studio. But Y/n didn't miss the slight soften of his shoulders right before the door shut.

Smiling to herself, she walked back into the daycare, the bright chaos of the classroom welcoming her back. An hour flew by in a blur of snack time, story time, and a quiet free-drawing period where the kids finally settled down with buckets of crayons and construction paper.

Y/n walked between the low tables, checking on her students. The kids bubble over with excitement, scribbling along. One little boy shouts that he wants to draw a purple dinosaur with wings, while a little girl next to him insists she is going to draw a castle made entirely of candy. You spend the next half hour listening to their wild ideas, helping them pick out their perfect crayon colors. The room erupts with glitter and stickers as each kid runs back and forth from the crafts table to grab something to add to their drawing. Y/n's classroom was a chaotic mess, and she loved it. Each picture was put up on display around the classroom so that every one of her kid's can see their artwork every day.

Once the creative brainstorming wraps up, it is time for fresh air. You gather the children at the door, guiding them to hold onto the "walking rope"—a bright canvas rope with soft handles that keeps them safely aligned in a neat, adorable row.

"Alright, little ducklings, hold tight," you say, checking the front and back of the line.

As your neat little parade walks down the sidewalk toward the local park, you pass by the familiar, neon-lit window of the Jiyong's shop. Through the glass, you see him. He is sitting back, dressed in his usual streetwear, adjusting his tattoo machine. But the moment his brown eyes catch sight of your line outside, his tough exterior completely vanishes. A soft, gummy smile breaks across his face. He drops his tools and enthusiastically waves his hand

Right on cue, the entire line of kids erupts into giggles. Still holding tightly to the rope with one hand, all the kids raise their free hands, waving back furiously. Hearing the commotion, you look up and catch his eye. The exact second Ji-yong notices you looking at him, his face turns pink and he pushed his sunglasses back up to cover his eyes as he turns his attention back to the tattoo machine.

You can't help but giggle just a little as you lead your happy line past the shop.

The rest of the morning flies by in a blur of crisp autumn air and laughter. The park is right across the street from the daycare, making it the perfect spot for the kids to burn off their energy. They spend hours running through the fallen orange leaves, swinging on the swings, and playing tag until their cheeks are flushed pink from the cool breeze.

As the afternoon rolls in, the energy finally settles down, and the daycare routine shifts into pickup mode. One by one, parents arrive to gather their children. Soon, the sky begins to deepen into a warm twilight, and you are left waiting with the very last child in your classroom. It wasn't long before the front door clicks open, and the child's mother walks in, looking exhausted.

"Hi, sorry I'm a little late today, traffic was a nightmare," she says, kneeling to wrap her arms around her running toddler.

Oh, don't worry about it at all!" you reply, handing over the child's backpack. "We actually had a wonderful day. We went across the street to the park so someone might fall asleep early tonight."

"You are a lifesaver," the mother laughs, adjusting the heavy bag on her shoulder. "Thank you so much. Have a great night!"

"You too! See you tomorrow!" you wave as they walk out.

With the building completely silent now, you head back into your classroom to tackle the mess. You stay late, wiping down tables, stacking tiny chairs, and sweeping the floor. As the sun fully sets, you kneel down with a wet paper towel trying to scrape up the stubborn leftover bits of colorful glitter from this morning when a low deep rumble of a motorcycle engine vibrates through the glass window.

You raise your head and peer out into the darkening street. Across the road, you see Ji-yong walking out of his shop. his dark hair shifting slightly in the autumn wind as he swings a leg over his sleek motorcycle. You sit back on your heels, watching him through the glass for a long moment with a soft smile. You have always thought he was incredibly handsome, even with that tough, intimidating exterior he tries so hard to keep up.

Ji-yong kicks the bike into gear and drives off into the night, the engine roar fading down the street. But just like every single night, he leaves the vibrant neon lights from his shop burning bright. The neon glow spills straight across the asphalt, perfectly illuminating the dark walkway so you can see safely as you walk to your car.

Smiling at the silent gesture, you finish locking up the daycare, head out to the parking lot, and make the quiet drive back to your apartment.

Once inside, you instantly shed the stressful day. You twist your hair up into a messy bun, change into your coziest clothes, and brew a hot, steaming cup of herbal tea. Sitting cross-legged on your bed, you pull your heavy briefcase over and open your laptop to carefully organize tomorrow's arts and crafts project.

The apartment is perfectly quiet, save for the soft clicking of your keyboard and the occasional sip of your tea. You get so completely lost in the zone that before you even realize it, the clock on your screen reads 1:00 AM.

With the sleeve of your shirt you rub your eyes to do a double take of the time, ''Crap'' you whisper. This was a bad habit of yours, always getting so lost in the groove of doing something special for these kids.

With a long stretch you yawn, shut down your laptop, and slide the briefcase away. As you prepare for bed you think of how excited your students will be for tomorrow's project, just thinking about it makes you smile.

After a phew more brushes, you rinse your mouth and shut off the bathroom light, patting across the floor to your cozy bed. You turn off the bedside lamp, pull the warm blankets up to your chin and finally drift off to sleep, dreaming of the family you pray one day you'll have.

The next morning, the autumn air is noticeably crisper, but you don't have a care in the world as you drive to work with the window rolled down. The back of your car is completely packed with heavy bags from the arts and crafts store, you had woken up extra early just to hit the place before work to make sure everything was perfect for the big project. As you grip the steering wheel, you can't help but notice the stubborn remnants of yesterday’s glitter still trapped under your freshly polished nails, getting distracted by the mess you forget for a moment that propped up on the car phone holder on speaker is your mother.

"Okay, sweetie, that sounds so fun!" your mom says. "I'm sure the kids will absolutely love it."

Your mom has always been supportive of your career and almost every morning the two of you spoke so you can tell her the activities for the day.

"Oh, they will, Mom! Ugh, I just cannot wait to see their faces," you beam, adjusting your grip on the wheel.

"Gosh, Y/n, you've gotta have your own kids one day. You would be a fantastic mother," your mom says softly.

You smile to yourself, feeling a warm blush creep up your neck. "I know, Mom, I know. Oh, I'm just pulling into the daycare parking lot now. Love you, but I've got to go!"

"Love you too, sweetie. Have a good day!"

After hanging up, you step out into the chilly morning and quickly button up your jacket against the biting breeze. You walk around to the back of the car, open the trunk, and begin fumbling with the massive pile of plastic bags, trying to loop as many as possible onto your arms.

Across the street, Jiyong is standing outside his shop, holding a steaming cup of hot coffee. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he watches you struggle and sway under the weight of the crafts. Shaking his head in amusement, he sets his coffee down on a ledge and makes his way right over toward you.

"Need some help with that?" his deep voice suddenly rumbles.

You jump, completely surprised, nearly dropping a roll of construction paper. "Oh! Good morning, Jiyong," you say, your words coming out completely mumbled because your car keys are clenched tightly between your teeth. You quickly bow your head then softly kick your car trunk shut with your foot. "Um... maybe. Thanks."

With an effortless chuckle, Jiyong steps in and grabs the vast majority of the bags from your arms, leaving you to hold only two light ones.

You take the keys out of your mouth, unlock the main daycare door, and lead him down the quiet hallway toward your room. When you unlock your classroom door and step inside, Jiyong follows, pausing in the doorway to take a look around. It is his very first time seeing your world, and he looks genuinely amazed. Twinkling fairy lights cascade softly across the ceiling, and the walls are completely covered in colorful, messy drawings from the kids. The entire space feels warm, vibrant, and almost magical.

"You can just set them right there on the table," you say, gesturing to crafting station.

Jiyong walks over, sets the heavy bags down, and immediately claps his hands together, trying to shake off the stray glitter that had instantly transferred from the bags onto his knuckles.

You break out into a laugh "Yeah, it’s not coming off anytime soon. Trust me."

He lets out a low laugh of his own, rubbing his hands against his dark jeans. But as the laughter fades, a sudden, heavy silence fills the room. The two of you stand there for a profoundly awkward second, the air thick with unsaid words, until Jiyong nervously clears his throat.

"Well... I, uh, I better go open up shop," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Have a good rest of your morning."

''Yeah, you too," you reply softly.

The two of you exchange another polite bow and he turns to head out the door. A huge smile spreads across your face the second he is out of sight. Heart fluttering, you turn to the bags and happily begin setting up the grand arts and crafts project. Before you know it, the front bell rings, the heavy doors open, and your busy day officially begins.

The kids are more than thrilled about the project. They all lean in over their tiny tables, eyes wide and completely silent as you pull the heavy tape away from the hidden structure like a magician. Beneath the wrapping is a massive, towering pile of cardboard boxes, intricately painted and constructed to look like a giant dragon.

"Alright, everyone," you announce, throwing your arms out wide. "Today, we are going to decorate Mister Dragon!"

You gesture dramatically toward the craft table, which is practically overflowing with giant tubes of neon glitter, buckets of googly eyes, feathers, and bottles of liquid glue. The classroom instantly erupts into a deafening chorus of screams. The kids scramble out of their seats, rushing toward the craft table in a wild stampede. You don't even bother putting on your usual apron; at this point, you know the glitter is going to find its way onto your clothes anyway.

The kids decorate that dragon like crazy. For hours, they glue googly eyes onto his nose, stick bright feathers onto his tail, and dump entire bottles of glitter onto his cardboard wings, turning him into a wonderfully sparkly, colorful mess.

The project takes up almost the entire day, but you naturally pace it out with the usual routine. There are breaks for a snack time, a quiet afternoon nap time, and a structured learning block. During the lesson, you write giant, colorful letters on the whiteboard for the kids to trace on their own papers, reading aloud from the exact same picture books they are looking at. Your classroom is noticeably ahead of all the other groups in the building, and you couldn't be more proud.

By the end of the day, you leave the classroom with a giant, tired grin stretched across your face.

For the next few weeks, the evening routine stays exactly the same. Every single night, you stay late to clean up, hear the familiar rumble of Jiyong’s motorcycle, and watch him drive away through the window. Then, you close up your classroom and walk out to your car, with the glowing neon lights from his tattoo shop safely illuminating your path.

But after that one morning where he helped you carry the heavy craft bags into your classroom, something subtly shifts between you two.

A comfortable routine begins to form. Every single morning, Jiyong meets you near the sidewalk, and the two of you share short, sweet conversations. On the mornings when you aren't rushing to set up a massive project, he brings over an extra cup of hot coffee, and you sit on the daycare steps together. It is a swift, natural change that neither of you explicitly talks about, but both of you thoroughly enjoy each other's company more and more each day.

The change is so obvious that even the children start to notice. It doesn't take long for the kids to start calling the "Mr. Tattoo Man" Miss Y/n's husband. Whenever you hear them saying it, you just laugh it off. You are incredibly grateful that they only ever say it inside the safety of the classroom, far out of Jiyong's earshot.

Until one crisp afternoon.

You are outside with the kids on the daycare's front sidewalk, enjoying the autumn sun while everyone draws with colorful sidewalk chalk. Next door, Jiyong steps out of his shop to grab something from his motorcycle.

Before you can even react, one of your most energetic little boys breaks away from the group. He rushes toward the Jiyong waving a crumpled piece of drawing paper in his hand.

"Here, Mr. Tattoo Man! This is for you!" the little boy shouts.

Ji-yong pauses, looking surprised. A soft smile touches his lips as he crouches down to be perfectly at eye level with the boy. He reaches up, lowering his sunglasses slightly over his nose, and extends his hand. "Well, thank you, buddy," his deep voice rumbles warmly.

He takes the paper and smooths it out. Your breath hitches in your throat from across the pavement as you realize what it is.

There, drawn in bright, messy crayon colors, is a picture of you and Jiyong standing side by side, smiling and holding hands.

The little boy beams pointing a finger at the crayon drawing. "I drew you and your wife!"

Your heart completely drops. Your face flushes a deep, burning red, and you instantly rush across the pavement, your sneakers squeaking against the concrete. "Oh my goodness! Okay, sweetie, thank you, let’s go back and finish your chalk drawing over here!" you say in a panicked, high-pitched rush, gently ushering the boy back toward the rest of the classroom.

Behind you, Jiyong slowly stands up to his full height. He folds his sunglasses, slipping them into his jacket pocket, and watches you struggle to handle the situation with an entertained smirk on his face.

You frantically clear your throat, smoothing down your jacket as you try to regain your composure. Turning back to him, you let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh. "Don't... don't mind them! You know how kids are. Just wild, active imaginations!"

Jiyong doesn't say anything at first, he just looks down at the drawing as his eyes soften with a hint of amusement.

Anxious to get the embarrassing drawing out of his sight, you step forward and offer a hand. "Here, I can take that back for you so you don't have to carry it—"

"Oh, no," he interrupts smoothly, pulling the paper slightly out of your reach. "This is going up in my shop."

You stop in your tracks, blinking in surprise. A playful grin tugs at your lips despite your blushing cheeks, and you cross your arms over your chest. "Oh yeah? What about your icy, tough-guy reputation you must uphold?''

Jiyong lets out a genuine laugh as he looks down at the drawing one more time. "Well," he says, his brown eyes locking onto yours with an undeniable spark. "It's a picture of me and my wife. How can I not keep it?"

You stand there completely stunned, your brain completely short-circuits. Before you can even gather the vocabulary to formulate a coherent response, Jiyong chuckles softly at your frozen expression, turns on his heel, and starts walking back toward his parlor.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Y/n," he calls back over his shoulder.

And that was the moment that began your love story: a simple, messy crayon drawing.

A few days after that sidewalk incident, Ji-yong finally built up the courage to officially ask you out to dinner. One dinner turned into dates every other night, and eventually, the two of you were officially a couple. It was a love story you never saw coming, but everyone around you—and especially you—couldn't have been happier. Despite his tough-guy demeanor, Jiyong was actually a complete puppy when it came to you. He would leave breakfast sitting on your classroom desk almost every single morning, surprise you with fresh flowers at work, and even insisted on driving you to work and home every night since you fortunately lived so close to each other. It was an absolute fairytale.

When your one-year anniversary mark hit, life handed you both a beautiful unexpected surprise: you were pregnant. You hadn't even been trying yet, but you both couldn't have been more thrilled. The tough guy you fell for also happened to be a natural family man, stepping into his new role with absolute pride.

Now, four years into marriage, you stand in your warm kitchen flipping a batch of golden pancakes. Across the living room, you watch the absolute loves of your life.

"And one, two, three... airplane!" Jiyong yells.

He carefully swoops his tatted arms under your daughter's tiny frame, lifting her high above his head and flying her through the air. Sarang giggles loudly, her little legs kicking with pure joy.

"Appa, again! Again!" she squeals.

Jiyong laughs, a bright, gummy smile lighting up his face as he brings her down for a tight hug, peppering her cheeks with kisses. You lean against the kitchen counter, a look of absolute contentment on your face. You know you couldn't possibly be any happier.

♡Taglist:@kpoppinstuffs. @chocomintlatey @missk-90 @jiryuunosnacku @hzzeta @lolzworld @gdtabibaby @kikokikokikokikokiko @redryy

[headsinthecloudforever]

In Your Orbit★

|ONE SHOT|

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X reader

‼️Content warning: Explicit sexuel content<< Dom/sub<< self pleasure<< fingering<<oral sex.

About story: By day, Kwon Ji-yong is the brilliant, demanding perfectionist who calls all the shots in the music industry. Everyone revolves around him. But when the bedroom door closes, the power dynamic completely flips. Exhausted from carrying the weight of his career, he needs a space where he doesn't have to be the boss. In bed, he happily surrenders all control to you, finding his release in your dominance, your rules, and your commands.

· ─────── ·𖥸·

The digital clock on the microwave read 2:14 AM. You stood in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, watching the kettle begin to simmer as you waited for your tea to brew. Sleep had been completely elusive tonight, leaving you listening to the deep, heavy silence of the apartment.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by the familiar, electronic chirp of the front door's pin pad unlocking.

You peeked around the corner from the kitchen, instantly spotting your boyfriend Jiyong walking through the entryway. He looked utterly exhausted. His shoulders were slumped, his sharp jawline shadowed with fatigue, and the usual bright energy he carried completely drained by the long hours at the studio.

Setting your cup down on the counter, you walked over to meet him. "You're home early! I thought you said it was going to be an all-night thing."

Ji-yong sighed, slipping his feet out of his shoes and shuffling over to you in his socks. "Seunghyun wanted to call it a night," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. "He was getting a headache."

Before he could say another word, he leaned down and let his head drop heavily onto your shoulder, letting out a long, weary groan. "I'm so tired."

You wrapped your arms around him, gently rubbing his back through his shirt. "Ohhh, oppa... you feel so tense," you murmured.

He let out another low groan, melting further into your embrace.

"How about some tea?" you suggested softly, tilting your head against his. "I bet your throat hurts''

Jiyong lifted his head, looking down at you with grateful eyes. A tiny smile finally tugged at the corners of his lips. "That sounds amazing, jagiya."

You smiled back, leaning up to press a soft comforting kiss to his cheek before walking back into the kitchen. He trailed closely behind your heels like a shadow. As soon as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen island, Lye immediately climbing onto his lap to settle down. Jiyong’s fingers unconsciously tangled into the cat's fur, his eyes tracking your movements.

While the tea finished brewing, you leaned your elbows on the clean kitchen counter and rested your chin in your hand as your free hand reached out across the space between you and your fingers gently moved a few stray messy strands of black hair away from his tired eyes.

"Yah, you're so tired, oppa," you murmured softly.

Jiyong didn't answer with words. He simply closed his eyes and leaned into your hand, his cheek pressing against your palm as you gently rubbed his face. The sharp demanding artist who had spent the last phew hours in the recording studio vanished completely. Here, under the soft kitchen light, he was just a man looking for a safe place to land.

"Are you hungry?" you whispered, your thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone.

With his eyes still closed, he slowly shook his head no. The cat on his lap let out a soft purr, mimicking the quiet rhythm of the room.

You hummed in response, understanding without him needing to explain. Just as you withdrew your hand, the teapot let out a sharp whistle. You moved away to turn off the stove, carefully pouring the steaming water into a fresh mug for him.

Picking up his cup of tea along with your own, you walked out of the kitchen and over to the living room couch. Jiyong followed you automatically, his feet shuffling against the floor, drawn to your presence like a planet caught in its orbit.

The gentle crackle of the fireplace provided a warm background to the quiet apartment. You both sat cross-legged on the couch, facing each other with your mugs cradled between your hands to catch the warmth of the tea. The soft, amber glow of the flames danced across Jiyong’s face, softening the sharp edges of his features.

Taking a slow sip of your tea, you looked at him over the rim of your cup. "How was your day?" you asked softly.

Jiyong let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping another fraction of an inch. "Exhausting," he admitted, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Everyone kept looking to me for answers. The mix wasn't coming together, no one knew what the fuck they were doing when it came to my MAMA performance. It felt like the whole thing would just fall apart."

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your knee as if anchoring himself to the reality of being home. "I just... I spent the entire day carrying everything. My head hurts from making decisions."

Setting your mug down on the coffee table, you patted your lap and said softly, "Come lay down."

Jiyong looked at your lap, then took one more long drink of his tea before setting his cup down on the side table. He shifted his weight, turning his body and laying his head gently right into your lap. He let his legs stretch out across the length of the couch, curling up as much as his long frame would allow.

You immediately began running your fingers through his messy black hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips. After a moment, you slipped your hand beneath the hem of his loose shirt traceing soothing, slow circles on his back. He let out a deep sigh of content as his eyes closed completely. "This is exactly what I needed," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your thigh.

"I wish you weren't this stressed all the time, Ji," you said softly, "It makes me sad to see you like this."

He just hummed in response.

You shifted your hand up, your thumb and fingers finding the tight knots at the base of his neck. You started massaging his shoulders, applying a firm, steady pressure that made him sink even deeper into the cushions. "I wish you didn't have to carry all this weight on your shoulders," you murmured gently. "It's not fair."

Jiyong shifted slightly, mumbling into the fabric of your pants. "I have to. I'm the leader, Y/n" He paused before he let out a long sigh. "I do wish I could just..."

He trailed off, his eyes opening just a crack to look up at you through his eyelashes in the dim firelight.

"...just let go," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It would be nice to not be the one in control for once."

You let out a soft, amused laugh to yourself, the sound quiet against the crackle of the fire. "That would be a fun little dynamic,"

Ji-yong’s eyes fluttered open at that. He raised a single black eyebrow, looking up at you from your lap with a curious expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you said, your fingers continuing to weave through his hair, "I just can't imagine you not being their leader. Or the man who can walk into a room... and the entire room doesn't sit down until you do. People look up to you so much, Ji."

Ji-yong let out a wry huff, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, rolling his eyes playfully at the reminder of his daytime persona.

You laughed again, the warmth of it filling the space between you. "But I know you," you whispered. You leaned down, pressing a lingering, tender kiss right against his warm cheek. "Inside, you're a total softy."

He leaned up into the kiss, his eyes closing again as a look of pure contentment settled over his face. "Mmm, I am," he agreed softly. He reached up, blindly finding your hand and squeezing your fingers tightly. "I would trade everything just to lay here with you."

"Aren't you my sweet oppa?" you murmured softly, looking down at his relaxed face.

Ji-yong hummed again, a deep, contented sound vibrating against your thigh.

As you continued to rub his bare back beneath his shirt, an idea suddenly sparked in your mind. The thought made your heart beat just a fraction faster. You leaned down closer to his ear, your voice dropping to a soft, enticing whisper. "What if you did let go, Ji? Like... completely?"

Ji-yong’s eyes fluttered open at that, "What do you mean?"

Before you could answer with words, he shifted, sitting up on the couch so he was facing you properly. Taking advantage of the movement, you slid forward and straddled his lap, your knees framing his hips. Jiyong’s hands instinctively came up to rest on your waist.

Leaning in, you spoke softly, "Why don't you let me take care of you, oppa?"

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing softly against his skin as you began kissing his neck. Jiyong let out a low, shaky sigh, his head tilting back automatically to give you better access. His grip on your waist tightened, his long fingers anchoring into your hips as if he were trying to pull you even closer to him. The contrast between his usual fierce, commanding presence and the complete vulnerability he showed in your arms was dizzying.

You pressed slow, lingering kisses along his jawline, tracing down to the sensitive skin of his throat. Every time your lips moved against him, you could feel the tight tension draining out of him.

"Y/n.." he whispered, his voice incredibly rough and desperate. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths under your hands.

You slid your hand beneath the hem of his shirt, your warm palm pressing flat against his chest. As you rubbed slow, soothing circles over his skin, you could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat right against your fingertips.

Jiyong let out a sharp, ragged breath, his entire body shuddering at the direct contact. His fingers flexed against your waist, anchoring himself to you as you continued to dominate his senses. Under your touch, he was breathless, completely pliant, and entirely yours.

"Just like that, oppa," you whispered against his pulse point. "Don't think about anything else. Just focus on me."

"Mmm..." he groaned helplessly. He was completely drunk on the relief of your touch.

You broke the kiss on his neck, moving your lips back up to whisper directly against his ear. "Hands behind your back.'' you commanded,

Jiyong’s eyes flew open, he blinked up at you, his breath hitching as the direct dominant shift in your voice cut through the last of his exhaustion. He didn't hesitate. The absolute authority he carried out in the world evaporated in an instant. Slowly, he pulled his hands away from your waist and tucked them behind his back.

"Good boy," you murmured, leaning back just enough to look down at him.

He sat there as you straddled him, his chest heaving under your palm as you continued to rub his bare skin beneath his shirt. Without his hands he was completely forced to rely on his core and your body to keep steady, looking up at you through his long eyelashes with total, breathless submission.

"Can I touch you, jagiya?" he whispered, his voice trembling as he begged for permission.

"Not until I tell you to," you said softly, your thumb tracing his jawline, asserting your rules in the quiet room. "Tonight, you don't do anything unless I say so. Understood?"

Ji-yong swallowed hard, a dark flush spreading across his cheeks as he nodded eagerly. "Yes'' he breathed.

You leaned down slowly, stopping when your lips were just a breath away from his. You could feel the heat radiating from his face, his breath coming in shallow, ragged puffs against your mouth. But instead of kissing him, you tilted your head and trailed your lips down his jawline, completely bypassing his lips.

Jiyong let out a frustrated whine, his shoulders tensing he tried to lean up to meet his lips with yours.

"Ah, ah," you murmured against his skin, your hand moving from his chest to firmly grip his chin, holding him still. "Did I say you could move?"

"No," he whispered hoarsely, his knuckles were locked tightly behind his back.

"Good. Stay still for me," you commanded softly.

You leaned back slightly, your gaze dropping down from his flushed face to the waistband of his sweatpants. Jiyong’s stomach muscles flexed as he watched you.

Slowly, you reached down and wrapped the drawstrings around your fingers, giving them a gentle, authoritative tug. You kept your eyes locked onto his, watching the pupils dilate in the dim firelight as you slowly began to work at the knot, your fingertips brushing against the warm skin of his lower stomach.

"Y/n..." he gasped out, his fingers twitching against each other as he desperately fought the urge to break your rule. "Please, I can't—"

"Shh," you interrupted softly, you paused your fingers on the loosened knot, tapping his chin gently. "Did I give you permission to speak''

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he forces himself back into absolute silence.

Satisfied with the immediate submission, you reach for a discarded scarf resting nearby. You do not use it as a punitive measure, but rather as a clinical, physical boundary. Uncoiling the soft material, you loop it around his wrists, securing them with a firm knot. The cotton provides a tangible, unyielding reminder of the current power dynamic.

"Much better," you observe softly, your tone evaluating his restraint. "Now, let us see how well you maintain your silence."

Your focus shifts downward from his expression back to the loosened drawstrings of his sweatpants. You do not rush the process, allowing the anticipation to break down his remaining defenses.

Your hands descend to the waistband, your knuckles lightly grazing the hyper-sensitive skin of his lower abdomen. Jiyong’s core muscles contract sharply in an involuntary visceral reaction to the tactile contact. You grip the fabric on either side of his hips. With a smooth, downward motion, you strip the sweatpants from his form, forcing the material past his thighs until it pools uselessly around his ankles.

The sudden exposure to the cool air of the room creates an immediate sensory shock, contrasting sharply with the residual warmth radiating from his body. Deprived of his clothing, his vulnerability is now absolute. He sits completely exposed, physically anchored to the spot by the scarf binding his wrists. His hardened cock springs upwards,already slightly wet.

You stand and Jiyong’s gaze follows you, his brown eyes desperately pleading you.

"Please, Y/n," Jiyong breaks the silence, ''Touch me. Please... just touch me."

Your clinical assessing gaze dropped to his hands, then traveled slowly up his torso, deliberately withholding the very contact he is starving for. Not saying a word

"Fuck, you have no clue how bad I want you'' he groans out, his head tilting back slightly as his knuckles strain against the scarf behind his back. He is completely unraveled, every muscle in his body is taut.

Leaning forward with deliberate slowness until your breath brushes against the shell of his ear you whisper, "I'll touch you when I want to touch you. Remember, you're not calling the shots tonight, Oppa."

The title hangs in the quiet air as you stand & take step back just out of his physical reach, ensuring his captive gaze is locked entirely onto you.

You hooked your fingers around your bra straps, twisting the fabric slowly around your fingers while keeping your eyes locked onto his. You didn't rush. You wanted him to see every single movement. Jiyong swallowed hard, his eyes dropping down to your hands before snapping back up to meet your gaze. He was breathing through his nose now, his jaw so tight.

With an agonizingly slow movement, you let the straps slide off your shoulders, letting the material drop down just a fraction. You paused right there, giving him a long, teasing look as if deciding whether or not you even wanted to take off the rest. He shifted his weight just an inch, the fabric of his sweatpants tangled around his ankles reminding him he couldn't actually go anywhere.

Then, you reached behind your back, unhooking the bra and letting it slide down your arms until it dropped onto the floor, your eyes never leaving his face for a single second.

Next, your hands moved slowly down to the button of your jeans, unzipping them with a clicking sound that seemed loud in the quiet room. You stepped out of them one leg at a time, kicking the denim aside until you were standing in front of him completely stripped down.

Jiyong’s eyes tracked every single movement, his eyes tracing every curve of your body as he took in the sight of you. ''F-fuck'' He whispered.

You leaned in close, your bare arms brushing lightly against his shoulders as you hovered over him. "You want to touch yourself?" you whispered right against his ear.

Jiyong didn't even hesitate. He nodded desperately, waiting for whatever was coming next.

Instead of teasing him further, you reached right behind his back. Your fingers worked quickly at the knot, loosening the soft material. The moment the restraint gave way, his hands fell free, the sudden release of tension leaving his arms slightly shaky. He moved immediately to his dick, rubbing it vigorously as he stared at your plump breasts.

Your own legs were practically trembling at this point, if you gave him the go ahead to touch you, to fuck you, your body was already ready for him.

Jiyon's head leaned back against the couch, keeping one eye open on your body, ''Mmm, fuck you're so- so beautiful''

You weren't going to let him cum yet, you wanted him just at the edge of his orgasm before commanding him to stop. So, to intense his pleasure you gently take his free hand and guide it to your breast.

His head perked up right away, gripping his ringed finger into your skin as she pumped his cock faster now. ''Dammit I-m close''

With your knee you widen his legs and stand in between them, watching him tremble under you as he got closer and closer. Then, you have your next command, ''Stop'''

Jiyong bites his lip, not registering your voice anymore.

You repeat yourself but this time gripping his arm away from his member. A pathetic whimper pasts his lips as he didn't get to reach his climax.

Jiyongs eyes were hazed with passion. ''What the fuck, I was close''

Without saying anything, you straddle him, letting his tip tease your entrance. Slowly you plant yourself fully onto his lap, his dick still not inside you. You began rubbing your folds against him, completely controlling the pace.

''Mmm'' Jiyong moans, leaning his head back against the couch again.

Your eyes remained shut, savoring the pleasure. ''Be quiet'' you tell him quickly, trying to focus.

Jiyong's hand come's up trembling, desperate to touch you. As soon as you felt the warmness of his skin you quickly slapped his hand away. The rule still stands, he touches you when you say so. Your pace quickens as you now are the one chasing your orgasm, nothing was stopping you and you were going to finish.

Before you even reached your climax, you felt the familiar warmness begin to drip down your thighs. You open your eyes from the sudden feeling, looking down you see Jiyong gripping the couch as he bucked his hips against you, finishing on your leg.

''Fuck!'' He groans.

The sight alone sent you over the edge. Your hips moved rhythmically as you rode out your orgasm. ''Oppa!''

The last vibration of your orgasm slowly ripples through your body, leaving your muscles entirely spent as you collapse forward against Jiyong’s chest. Your chest heaves, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps against the warm skin of his neck. The absolute silence of the room is broken only by the sound of both of your racing hearts trying to find a normal rhythm again. Jiyong’s arms, finally freed from the restriction of your rule, immediately wrap around your waist. His grip is tight, desperate, pulling you flush against him as if to anchor himself back to reality. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven.

"Damn it," he mutters, "You really know how to break me."

You laugh, kissing him gently.

For a few tender seconds, neither of you move.. You stay straddled on his lap, completely heavy and intoxicated by the afterglow. But as the frantic heat between you begins to cool , the physical reality of the mess sets in. Jiyong’s cum is a slick dripping slowly down your inner thigh.

You shift slightly, your knees sliding on the leather of the couch as you try to lift yourself up. The movement makes the warm fluid streak further down your leg.

"I need to... I need to clean this off," you whisper, your voice thick and raspy from the screaming climax.

Jiyong groans softly at the loss of your weight, his hands lingering on your hips for a split second before letting you slide off him. Your legs feel entirely like jelly when your feet hit the floor, a soft shiver running through you the moment the cold air hits your bare skin.

You walk unsteadily toward the attached bathroom, your eyes downcast at the prominent white streaks running down your thigh. Reaching the sink, you turn on the faucet, letting the water run until it turns a soothing, steaming warm. You grab a soft washcloth, soaking it completely before pressing the warm damp fabric against your skin. A quiet sigh of relief escapes your lips as you begin to wipe away the traces of his cum.

Before you can even finish, the bathroom door pushes open. Jiyong stands in the doorway, completely unbothered by his own nudity, looking slightly disheveled with his sweaty hair falling into his eyes. He looks at you, his eyes softening. Without saying a word, he steps inside and takes the washcloth gently from your hand. He rinses it under the running water, wrings it out, and then kneels down on the tiled floor right in front of you.

"Let me," he murmurs, his voice incredibly low and sweet.

His slender, ringed fingers steady the back of your knee while his other hand uses the warm cloth to gently, meticulously clean the rest of your leg. He works with tender care, wiping away every last bit of the mess until your skin is clean and warm. When he finishes, he doesn't immediately stand up. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the exact spot on your thigh where he had just finished, his warm breath sending a completely different kind of shiver straight up your spine.

He looks up at you from the floor, a genuine, fond smile tugging at his lips. "Better?"

"Much," you say, looking down at him with a soft, teasing smile. "I also like my view. It's nice to see you kneeling."

Jiyong’s hand pauses against your leg. He looks up at you through the dark fringe of his hair, a slow smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Oh, yeah?" he asks, his voice a low challenge.

Before you can even reply, his large, slender hands grip your hips. He stands up smoothly, his lean frame towering over you for a split second before he effortlessly lifts you off your feet. You gasp, your hands flying out to catch his shoulders as he hoists you up and sits you down backward onto the edge of the marble sink counter. The sudden chill of the stone against your bare skin makes you shiver, a breathless giggle escaping your lips as you look down at him.

"Mmmm, I know you're not done with me yet. Tell me what you want me to do to you.'' Jiyong whispers, stepping directly into your space.

You bit your lip almost making it bleed, you intended your voice to come out loud and commanding like before but He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

He sinks right back down, dropping to his knees on the floor between your thighs. His hands slide up your legs, parting your knees wide so he can fit perfectly between them. He looks up at you once more, his hands resting heavily on your inner thighs, anchoring you to the edge of the counter.

"I'll obey every word.'' he whispers again, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

'' Kiss me," you say softly, your voice carrying a quiet authority as you lift your hand and point directly to the sensitive, flushed skin of your inner thigh. "Right here."

Jiyong’s eyes follow the movement of your finger, his gaze darkening with immediate focus. A slow, breathy chuckle escapes his lips.

"Yes, ma'am," he whispers against your skin.

He leans forward, his hands sliding slightly higher on your hips as he tilts his head, his damp hair brushing softly against your leg. Jiyong brings his lips to the exact spot you pointed to. The first touch is incredibly gentle—a soft, lingering press of his warm lips that makes your toes curl. He doesn't just stop at one. True to his promise of complete obedience, Jiyong treats the command with meticulous care.

He presses another slow, open-mouthed kiss higher up the curve of your thigh, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He uses his tongue to trace a damp line across your skin, making you gasp and tighten your grip on his shoulders. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, his brown eyes gleaming with a mixture of submission and pure delight.

Jiyong listens to the hitch in your breathing, using your quiet gasps as a map to find exactly where you are most sensitive. The soft, open-mouthed kisses turn more deliberate, shifting from gentle reverence to a deeper, hungrier pressure that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core.

He catches the soft skin of your inner thigh between his teeth, sinking them in just deep enough to leave a stinging, sharp nip. The sudden flare of friction and pressure cuts through the heavy haze of pleasure, making your hips jerk off the cool marble counter as a sharp gasp leaves your lips.

Before you can even pull away, Jiyong immediately soothes the sting, his tongue sweeping over the bite mark in a wet stroke that turns the mark into a thrumming ache. He looks up at you from your knees, his jaw tight.

"Did you like that?" he murmurs against your wet skin, his voice a gravelly, low vibration that sends a tremor straight up your spine.

Your hand grip into his dark hair, guiding him closer to your wet pussy, ''Eat me'' you gasped.

The sudden, direct command hangs heavy in the humid air of the bathroom, shattering whatever restraint he had left. A low, ragged growl escapes the back of his throat, the sound vibrating directly against your inner thigh.

He doesn't ask twice. His hands slide up from your waist, his long fingers locking tightly to hold you firmly in place against the edge of the counter. He looks up at you one last time, his eyes fierce before he leans forward and buries his face between your legs.

The first touch of his tongue is a searing, wet streak that makes your spine arch completely. Your breath catches entirely in your throat, your knuckles turning white as you grip his hair even tighter, anchoring yourself to him as the room begins to spin. Jiyong is relentless, moving his tongue with a practiced desperate hunger. He uses his mouth to trace every single inch of your pussy, his hot breath pooling against your wet skin with every ragged gasp he takes.

''Fuck, don't you stop Kwon Jiyong!'' You moaned out.

The contrast between his complete submission to your command and the absolute dominant intensity of his mouth is dizzying. You can only cry out, your hips trembling uncontrollably against his shoulders as he drives you rapidly toward the edge.

His mouth moved gracefully and it wasn't long before he used his hands making you scream in pleasure. One digit entered first, making you jolt before pumping in and out of you.

The sheer intensity of his touch sends a wave of blinding pleasure straight to your core, making your breath hitch completely as a ragged cry escapes your lips into the quiet room. It is a dizzying, overwhelming sensation that leaves your mind entirely blank.

Jiyong is completely relentless, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath. He stays firmly on his knees, his hands locked onto your hips like a vice, anchoring you as he maintains his agonizingly perfect rhythm from both his tongue and his fingers.

"Jiyong, wait—" you gasp out, your head slamming back against the mirror as you feel you reaching your climax, the pleasure a little too intense.

"No," he growls against your wet folds. He tilts his head up for a split second,"You wanted to be in control. You told me not to stop''

He plunges right back in, his mouth and hands working in absolute, devastating tandem. The sheer speed and precision of his movements shatter whatever remains of your thoughts, making your mind go entirely white. You groan loudly, your fingers clawing desperately at his shoulders, your hips bucking completely out of your own control as he drives you right back over the edge for a second, shattering climax.

Your chest heaves violently, every breath coming in short gasps that echo loudly against the humid bathroom. Your head rests heavily against the mirror behind you, your eyes half-closed and unfocused as you try to ground yourself. The sheer intensity of the back-to-back climaxes has left your body completely spent, your limbs trembling so hard that you couldn't move even if you wanted to.

Jiyong slowly pulls back, his breathing just as ragged and uneven as yours. He stays on his knees between your thighs for a long moment, resting his forehead against your damp knee while his chest expands and contracts against your skin. He slowly lifts his head, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. With a slow movement, he brings the back of his hand up to his face. He drags his knuckles firmly across his lips, wiping away the glistening trace of your wetness left behind on his mouth, not breaking eye contact once.

"You're completely exhausted, aren't you?" he smiles.

You slowly raise your head, blinking through the heavy haze of exhaustion to look down at him. Jiyong watches you for a beat longer from the floor before he finally stands up. His tall, lean frame towers over you once more, casting a familiar, comforting shadow in the dim bathroom light.

Jiyong steps directly into the space between your thighs, leaning forward until his chest presses against yours. His long, slender fingers gently cup the sides of your face as his thumbs rub your flushed cheeks to steady you.

When his lips meet yours, the kiss is heavy with a quiet affection. The moment your lips meet, the distinct sweetness of your own wetness that still lingers on your lips hits your tongue. Tasting yourself on his lips is a dizzying, intimate sensation that sends a final, low thrum of electricity straight down. It is the ultimate marker of how completely he surrendered to your commands, a tangible reminder of the absolute control you just held over him.

Jiyong groans softly into the kiss, his mouth moving gracefully against yours as he drinks in your breathless reaction. He pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours.

"Look at you, you're shaking," he says as he brushes a stray lock of damp hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your jaw. "Why don't we take a nice hot shower together? Just to warm you up and get you clean."

You nod weakly, completely exhausted but comforted by the suggestion. Jiyong gives a small, fond smile and steps over to the glass enclosure, turning the handle until a steady stream of steaming water fills the stall, quickly creating a thick, cozy wall of mist. He walks back to the counter, bending down to slide one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He lifts you effortlessly, and you let out a quiet giggle, looping your arms around his neck as he carries you the few steps into the shower stall.

The moment the hot water cascades over your shoulders, your muscles instantly melt. Jiyong stands behind you to block the heaviest rush of the water so it doesn't hit your face. He grabs the bottle of body wash, working up a rich, fragrant lather between his large palms.

With slow tender care, he begins to wash your skin. He starts at your shoulders, his hands massaging away the last remnants of tension before moving down to gently clean your arms, your waist, and finally your thighs. There is no lust left in his touch now—only a deep, protective aftercare.

The steam continues to rise thickly around you, wrapping the two of you in a private, warm cocoon. Jiyong reaches for the bottle of shampoo next, pouring a small dollop into his palm before rubbing his hands together. He steps closer, his soft eyes smiling at you "Lean your head back for me''

You comply, tilting your head back against his chest as his long fingers slide into your wet hair. The moment his fingertips begin to massage your scalp in slow deep circles, a soft groan escapes your lips, and your eyes flutter shut. Jiyong lets out an amused huff against your ear, his thumbs smoothing along your hairline. "Like that, huh? I think I'm getting pretty good at this."

"You're a professional," you whisper "Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replies softly. He works the shampoo through your strands

Jiyong was gentle, like always, making sure not to get any suds near your eyes. He leans down, pressing a warm wet kiss to the crown of your head, the scent of the strawberry soap swirling around you both. "You completely wore yourself out tonight. You were so bossy''

A faint blush creeps up your neck, "You said you'd obey every word."

Jiyong smirks, "I did. And I meant it. I'd do it all over again if you told me to." He shifts his hands, cup-ping water from the stream to gently rinse the foam from your hair, watching carefully as the water cascades down your face. "But right now, my only job is taking care of you.

You let out a soft sigh as you turn around in his arms to face him under the warm stream of water. He leans his head back slightly against the wet tile, a small smile playing on his lips as he looks down at you through the mist.

"You know," he begins "I really like it when you're dominant like that. Seeing you take control... knowing exactly what you want from me. It's incredibly sexy."

You smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you reach for the shampoo bottle on the ledge. "Oh, really? The great G-Dragon likes being told what to do?"

"Only by you," he whispers, leaning down to press a sweet, wet kiss to the tip of your nose. "With you, I can just let go. I don't have to be the leader. I can just belong to you."

You pour a small amount of the fragrant shampoo into your palms, rubbing them together before lifting your hands to slide your fingers into his damp, dark hair. Jiyong closes his eyes instantly, a deep, relaxed groan escaping his chest as your fingertips begin to massage his scalp. He steps a little closer, his hands coming up to rest gently on your waist just to keep you steady under the steady cascade of the shower.

As you work the lather through his hair, your eyes drift down to his bare shoulders and chest. The water slicks down his lean, muscular frame, making the dark ink of his tattoos stand out vividly against his wet skin. With one hand still massaging his head, you use your other hand to gently trace the intricate lines of the artwork on his shoulder—the familiar designs you’ve always found completely intoxicating.

Jiyong opens his eyes once he feels your fingers tracing his skin. He catches your hand, pressing a warm kiss to your palm before placing it right back over his heart. "Keep going," he murmurs softly, "I'm all yours."

He tilts his head back, exposing the long line of his neck to give you better access. "Mm, just like that. I'm completely at your mercy."

"Good. Stay still then," you say playfully, sliding your soapy hands down his arms

"I like it when you take care of me," he whispers sweetly, his lips brushing yours with a soft, lingering innocence. "Makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

As the final remnants of soap slipped off his skin and circled the drain,

Jiyong turns off the heavy brass handles, and the roaring sound of the water suddenly dies down, leaving only the quiet patter of stray droplets and the soft sound of your shared breathing. He steps out of the glass enclosure first, grabbing two oversized, plush white towels from the heated rack.

Instead of wrapping himself up, he turns back to you with a wide, boyish grin. "Step up, boss," he teases softly, holding the large towel open like a cocoon.

You step out of the shower, and he immediately wraps the warm fabric securely around your shoulders, pulling you into a brief, tightly bundled hug. He takes the corners of the towel and begins to dry you off with an incredibly gentle care, dabbing at your arms and back as if you were made of glass. When he gets to your hair, he bunches the towel up and playfully ruffles it over your head, making you gasp and swat at his hands as your hair turns into a wild, static mess.

''Yah! Oppa, my hair!'' you laugh

Jiyong laughs with you, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. "You look cute like that Jagiya. Like a little cloud."

You take the second towel from his hands, determined to get him back. "Your turn. Hold still."

Jiyong completely cooperates, dropping his hands to his sides and standing perfectly still with that soft, compliant smile on his face. You wrap the towel around his lean shoulders and begin to dry off his chest, your fingers lightly tracing the damp ink of his tattoos one last time. When you reach his hair, you purposely ruffle it even harder than he did to yours, leaving his dark locks sticking up in every single direction. He looks completely disheveled and ridiculous, a far cry from the immaculate G-Dragon, but he just stands there looking down at you with pure adoration.

"Perfect," you declare, patting his cheek.

"If you say so," he chuckles, then you both walk into your bedroom.

The bed is a welcoming oasis of messy sheets and heavy blankets. Jiyong pulls the covers back, waiting for you to climb in first before he slides in right beside you. The moment his long frame hits the mattress, he opens his arms wide in a silent invitation. You don't hesitate, sliding directly into his space and resting your head flat against his bare chest.

He pulls the heavy duvet all the way up to your shoulders, burying both of you in a warm, dark cave. His long legs entwine with yours under the sheets, his body acting as a solid, radiating furnace against the chill of the room. He rests his chin lightly on the top of your wildly ruffled hair, his large hand coming up to gently smooth over your back in hypnotic strokes.

"Goodnight, boss lady" Jiyong whispers into the dark

You smile into the warmth of his skin, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. "Goodnight, Jiyong."

♡Taglist: @kpoppinstuffs. @chocomintlatey @missk-90 @jiryuunosnacku @hzzeta @lolzworld @gdtabibaby @kikokikokikokikokiko @redryy

[headsinthecloudforever]

| Boyfriend material |

Chapter 04. Did I cross a line?

| Mini series|

Boyfriend Material-Masterlist ─────── ·𖥸·

The morning sun over Seoul was bright, but it did nothing to warm the terrace of Jiyong’s apartment. He stood by the railing, dressed in a loose black silk robe, squinting against the glare of the city skyline. The air was crisp, cutting through the heavy fog of exhaustion that had settled into his bones over the last forty-eight hours.

Between his fingers, a lit cigarette burned down, a thin trail of gray smoke twisting up into the wind. Jiyong took a long drag, letting the bitter taste of the nicotine ground him. He usually tried to cut back when they were in the middle of a heavy tracking cycle, but his mind had been a chaotic mess since yesterday. He tapped the ash off the end of the cigarette, his jaw tight. He hated how much that tiny, fleeting interaction had bothered him. He was G-Dragon. He didn't get thrown off by a girl's defensive attitude, and he certainly didn't spend his nights tossing and turning over a forgotten hoodie. Yet, no matter how many times he tries to forget, his focus kept snapping back to you.

He took one final drag, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray on the balcony table. Blowing out the remaining smoke, he watched it dissipate into the morning air. He needed to get his head in the game. The album deadline was breathing down their necks, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. With a frustrated sigh, he turned back inside to get dressed for the studio.

He stepped back inside, sliding the glass balcony door shut against the morning chill. The silence of his massive apartment felt unusually heavy today. Moving through the living room, he headed toward the master bedroom to get dressed, but his footsteps slowed down as he approached the armchair.

There it was. The oversized hoodie, draped carelessly over the arm of the chair exactly where he had tossed it yesterday.

He stopped right in front of it, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his silk robe. He hadn't washed it. The logical, clean-freak side of him should have thrown it into the laundry hamper the second he got home. But he hadn't touched it. A strange, quiet wave of anxiety had stopped him last night—an irrational worry that if he ran it through the wash, the faint, sweet scent of you would completely be erased from the fabric.

Jiyong stared at the cotton for a long moment, his jaw tightening as he realized just how ridiculous he was being. Shaking his head at himself, he forced his eyes away from the chair, grabbed a fresh change of clothes, and quickly got ready for the day. He needed to get out of his own head, and the only way to do that was to bury himself in work.

When he arrives at YG building, he expects it to just be him and maybe one or two of the guys. But when he walks up to the door, inside the room seemed louder than usual. Jiyong grips the handle and walks inside, he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he bypassed the lounge area entirely.

The sight of you tangled up with Seunghyun on the leather couch hit him like a splash of cold water. Seeing you in that pink mini skirt, your long legs casually draped over Seunghyun's lap with a careless familiarity, made his jaw tighten so hard his teeth ached.

"Hey," Taeyang murmured from his spot near the vocal booth, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Yo, Ji," Seunghyun added, his deep voice relaxed as his hand rested casually near your knee.

Jiyong gave them a single, tight nod, not breaking his stride. He dropped into the producer's chair, pulling himself against the mixing desk. The massive dual monitors lit up his face in a cool, blue glow as he aggressively navigated the computer. He deliberately kept his back turned to the couch, pulling on a pair of noise-canceling headphones to block out the low murmur of your voice and Seunghyun's deep chuckle.

The sound of your shared laughter finally became too much to bear. What made it cut even deeper was the fact that it was Seunghyun making you laugh like that.

Unable to take another second of it, Jiyong lifted one side of his headphones and spun his chair around to face the two of you. "Don't you have a job or something? Somewhere else you can go?"

Shocked by the sudden venom in his tone, your eyes fluttered in disbelief. You parted your lips to respond, but before you could utter a single word, he cut you off ruthlessly. "Because you're being really fucking distracting."

Seunghyun’s eyebrows instantly furrowed in anger. He sat up straight on the couch, shifting his weight. "Yah! There’s no need to talk to her like that. Come on, man."

Sensing the rapidly escalating tension, Taeyang quickly stepped between them to play peacemaker. "Alright, alright, let's all calm down," he said soothingly, before turning a sympathetic gaze toward you. "Y/n, why don't you head downstairs for a minute and grab something to drink, yeah?"

With tears already welling up in your eyes, you let out a small sniffle. You nodded quickly and left. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Seunghyun turned to Jiyong, his voice laced with disbelief. "What the hell is going on with you lately? It’s like you have a personal hatred for her."

Taeyang moved to step in again, catching onto the real reason behind Jiyong’s explosive mood shift much faster than anyone else. But before Taeyang could speak, Jiyong snapped, throwing a harsh glare in his direction to shut him down.

He then turned his frustration back to Seunghyun. "No, it’s just—she's always here! Like, why? Doesn't she have anywhere else to be? It's fucking distracting!!."

With that final, angry outburst, Jiyong stood up abruptly, ripped the headphones off his head, and slammed them down onto the producer's chair. Without looking back at either of them, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Seunghyun turned to Taeyang, his expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. "What the hell is his problem?" he asked, gesturing toward the empty doorway.

Taeyang just sighed and offered a noncommittal shrug. He knew exactly what was fueling Jiyong’s sudden hostility, but he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his place to tell anyone

Meanwhile, Jiyong pushed through the heavy exit doors and stepped out into the crisp air to clear his head. He pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he lit it, cursing under his breath with every exhale. He just needed a second to breathe.

But as he turned the corner near the building's outdoor food court, the anger completely vanished from his chest, replaced by a sudden sinking feeling. There you were, tucked away at a quiet corner table, silently crying as a half-empty cup of lemonade sat ignored in front of you, the plastic sweating in the morning air.

Jiyong’s heart dropped into his stomach. A wave of guilt hit him so hard it made him sick. He did this. The tears spilling down your face, the tight, hurt posture—it was all because of him. Cursing his own stupidity, he immediately stubbed out the freshly lit cigarette against a nearby bin. He took a step forward, determined to go over to your table, swallow his pride, and apologize for being such an asshole.

But he didn't even get three steps before he froze.

Seunghyun had found you first. Jiyong watched in painful silence as Seunghyun approached the table and immediately wrapped his arms around your small frame. You didn't pull away; instead, you leaned right into him, buried your face into his chest, and let the tears fall. Seunghyun just held you tight, murmuring soft comforts into your hair.

A cold, bitter ache blossomed in Jiyong's chest as he stood hidden in the shadows, completely paralyzed by the view. That should be me, he thought to himself. I should be the one holding her.

You leaned into Seunghyun’s chest, burying your face into his soft sweater.

"Hey, shh, it's okay," Seunghyun murmured, his deep voice vibrating gently against your ear. He kept his large hands securely wrapped around your frame. "Don't cry. He's just being an idiot today."

You sniffled, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your eyes red and blurry from the tears. ''I don't understand, Seunghyun-ah, did I actually do something wrong? I-i didn't mean to mess up his focus."

"No Jagiya, you did nothing wrong," Seunghyun sighed. "Ji is under a lot of pressure with the album deadline''

You looked down at your pink mini skirt, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and exposed under the bright outdoor lights. "Maybe I shouldn't come to the studio anymore," you muttered softly, the humiliation still burning in your chest. "If my being here makes him that angry, it's better if I just stay away."

Seunghyun frowned, shaking his head. "Don't say that. They all adore you and I like having you around. So don't let his bad get to you'' He took a deep breath, looking over your head toward the hallway doors, "Come on. Let’s get you out of the sun. Do you want to go home, or do you want to grab some actual food first?"

You sniffled, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand before looking up at him. "I am kind of hungry," you admitted softly.

Seunghyun smiled. "Alright, let's go," he said, gently guiding you by the shoulder as you both walked off toward the food court.

Afterward, despite Seunghyun’s persistent pleads for you to just ignore Jiyong and come back up to the studio, you couldn't do it. The humiliation was just too heavy. You needed to be anywhere else but that building, so you went straight home.

The quiet hum of your apartment hallway was a relief. Your hands were full, balancing a plastic bag filled with the leftover food from lunch with Seunghyun as you leaned forward to type in your door code. The electronic keypad beeped sharply in the silence, unlocking with a solid click. You pushed the door open with your elbow and let yourself into the empty, quiet sanctuary of your own home, finally able to breathe without the weight of Jiyong's harsh glares pressing down on you.

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes at the entryway and slumped onto your living room sofa, pulling a decorative pillow on your lap. The silence leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. You knew Jiyong didn't trust you , but today felt different. It didn't feel like his usual arrogant judgement. It felt deeply personal, almost like he was desperately trying to push you away before you could get any closer.

The thought of losing your bond with the rest of the guys twisted a tight knot in your stomach. You had truly come to adore them—their easy laughter, the late-night banter, and the effortless way they had welcomed you into their tight-knit world. Jiyong's sudden, explosive freak-out had completely shattered that comfortable energy. You hated the idea of walking on eggshells around the group just because one person couldn't handle his own turbulent emotions.

Your fingers traced the edge of your phone, the screen dark against the couch cushion. For a fleeting second, the urge to fix it took over. You unlocked the screen, staring at Jiyong's name in your contacts, wondering if a direct text might pierce through his armor and make him explain himself. But as the sting of his harsh words echoed in your head, frustration replaced the anxiety. Why should you be the one to smooth things over when he was the one who crossed the line? You slammed the phone back down on the fabric of the sofa, letting out a decisive sigh. If Jiyong wanted to act out because he was drowning in feelings he couldn't control, you weren't going to beg for his approval.

You needed a physical distraction to stop your mind from looping back to Jiyong’s furious expression.

Stepping back into the kitchen, you opened the plastic bag Seunghyun had packed for you. The scent of the savory leftover dishes hit you right away as you methodically transferred the food into glass containers, snap-locking the lids with a series of sharp rhythmic clicks that echoed too loudly in the quiet kitchen. You slotted them into the refrigerator, wiping down the clean countertops twice just to keep moving.

With the kitchen cleaned to your satisfaction, you walked into the bedroom to change out of your outdoor clothes. You pulled on your softest lounge pants and a worn-in sweatshirt, burying yourself in oversized fabric. As the evening light began to purple outside your window, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor, you decided to force yourself into a routine. You put on a kettle for tea, watching the small blue flames of the stove flicker. While the water heated, you moved to the living room window, looking down at the city streets below. The headlights of cars blurred into long streaks of red and white in the gathering dusk. You wondered what the guys were doing right now in the studio.

As your thoughts trialed off, the sharp whistle of the kettle cut through them. You took a deep breath in, inhaling the smooth city air before heading back inside to make your cup. The hot liquid dribbled from the tea pot as you poured the steaming water over a tea bag, holding the warm mug between both hands you carried it back to the couch, pulling your legs up under you and staring at the television remote, debating whether to put on a mindless show. The idea to let the day drift away in cozy tv show marathon sounded actually pleasing, so you reached for the remote and finally switched on the television, the familiar theme song of a show filling the quiet room. With the cup of tea in hand you settled back against the sofa cushions, hoping the background noise would finally drown out the stress of today.

The entire time you didn't pick up your phone once, if Senghyun was worried you weren't responding, he would call. If Jiyong sent you a text message then you didn't even want to give it a second glance, he should apologize in person and thats that. Your phone sat abandoned on the soft sofa across from you as your eyes stayed glued on the TV.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang, hardly heard over the chatter of the screen.

You frowned slightly, glancing over at the entryway. It was slightly odd for anyone to be ringing your bell at this hour. If it was Seunghyun—who was always the most likely candidate to come rushing over—he wouldn't be standing out there waiting. He had your door code memorized and usually just let himself.

Setting the remote down, you pushed yourself off the couch. The floorboards felt cool against your bare feet as you walked toward the door.

Peeking through the peephole, your eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't Seunghyun at all.

It was Daesung. He was standing under the dim hallway light, shifting his weight from foot to foot with a slightly anxious expression. He was wearing an oversized yellow bucket hat pulled low, and in his hands, he was clutching a white plastic convenience store bag. As soon as you pulled the door open, his face instantly transformed. That familiar, bright, golden smile took over his features

"Hey," Daesung said softly. He lifted the plastic bag, giving it a little shake so the contents rattled inside. "I figured you could go for some late night ice cream. Can I come in?''

You let him inside with a polite bow, the heavy weight in your chest lifting just a bit at the sight of his familiar, friendly face.

"I could so go for ice cream right now'' you admitted, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through your somber mood.

Daesung’s own smile widened, his eyes crinkling. He walked past you into the apartment, looking around with genuine interest. "Wow, your place is really nice," he complimented as he padded over to the kitchen counter. He set the plastic bag down and immediately started unpacking the cold containers. "So, Seunghyun-hyung told me your favorite flavor is strawberry? Is that right?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, great!" Daesung beamed.

You walked around him, reaching into the upper cabinet to grab two ceramic bowls and two spoons for the ice cream. As you set them down, you decided to strike up some small talk, keeping your voice casual despite the late hour. "Not that I'm not incredibly happy to see you, but what are you doing here so late?"

Daesung’s bright expression softened, he leaned against the counter, watching you handle the spoons. "I felt awful for what happened earlier, Jiyong-hyung was way out of line today. And when he yells... it’s always shattering, you know? He doesn’t do it often, so when he does, it just hits everybody hard. Honestly, ice cream is the absolute best solution for this type of stuff."

A rush of gratitude washed over you. You smiled, scooping the vibrant pink strawberry ice cream into your bowl and his. ''That's very thoughtful of you, oppa''

After scooping, you opened the freezer, sliding the remaining tubs safely inside to keep them from melting. Holding your bowl, you gestured toward the glass doors at the back of the living room. "Do you want to sit out on the patio? It's really nice out tonight."

"It's gorgeous out, so why not?" Daesung agreed, picking up his own bowl.

You slid the glass door open, letting the cool night breeze brush against your skin. Together, the two of you walked out onto the balcony. The city stretched out before you, a vast blanket of twinkling lights. You both stepped up to the railing, leaning your forearms against the cool metal, comfortably eating your ice cream.

Daesung took a bite of his ice cream, watching the city lights for a second before a grin broke across his face. He turned his body towards you before talking.

"You know, Jiyong tries so hard to maintain this untouchable, perfectionist image," Daesung started, chuckling softly. "But he's really not the hard-ass he makes himself out to be. He can be incredibly ridiculous."

You looked over at him, curious.

"We were on tour a few years ago," Daesung explained, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he recalled the memory. "We were all exhausted, staying in this hotel, and Jiyong was taking forever in the bathroom. So, Taeyang decided to play a prank. He sneaks into the bathroom while Jiyong is in the shower, completely silent, and just waits. The second Jiyong slides the glass door open, wiping the steam from his eyes, Youngbae snaps a photo with the flash blinding him."

You blinked, trying to process the mental image.

"Oh, it was hilarious," Daesung laughed, shaking his head. "Jiyong lost his mind. He came bursting out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, dripping water all over the carpet. He was just screaming at the top of his lungs, chasing Youngbae around the sofa, begging for the photo to be deleted immediately. He looked so absurd''

You chuckled softly at the imagery, the tight lines of your face finally softening. But as the laughter died down, you looked back out at the glowing skyline. It was funny, sure, but after the ice-cold fury you had faced in the studio earlier, it felt impossible to bridge the gap between that human version of him and the man who had just humiliated you.

"I believe you," you murmured quietly, staring down at your bowl. "But... it’s just really hard to picture him not being an ass'' Your face bled pink, immediately regretting what you said, you quickly cover your mouth and whisper, ''Sorry..''

Daesung’s laughter grew louder at your comment, "No, I get it. And I know it's hard to picture it. But believe me, this angry defensive guy you saw today? This isn't the real him. He's just... obviously dealing with something right now. I really hope one day you get to see that side of him, too. Because when he actually lets someone in, he cares louder than anyone I know."

You let out a soft sigh, the cool night breeze fluttering your hair as you stared down at the swirling pink ice cream in your bowl.

"I hope I get to see that one day too," you murmured before taking another bite, "It’s just... I know it’s me. And I really don’t want to cause an issue within the group, you know? I just—I wish he trusted me."

Daesung took another bite of his own ice cream, chewing thoughtfully as he looked out over the glowing city skyline.

"I truly believe it’s not that he dislikes you as a person," Daesung offered gently, trying to piece it together himself. "I do think he doesn't trust you, but only because you're friends with his best friend. He’s protecting Seunghyun-hyung. I just wish he wasn’t so harsh with you about it."

Daesung paused, a sudden bewildered laugh bubbling up from his chest before he continued. "I mean... he was way less cruel to other girls Seunghyun-hyung has dated in the past, so it’s a little confusing." He shook his head with a small smile and went back to eating his ice cream, seemingly dismissing it as just another one of Jiyong's unpredictable quirks.

But you froze, your spoon stopping halfway to your mouth.

You stared out at the twinkling high-rise buildings, Daesung's words echoing loudly in your mind. He was less cruel to girls Seunghyun has dated.

You thought about that for a long second, a strange, prickling sensation rising up the back of your neck. If Jiyong's intense hostility was strictly about protecting his best friend, he would treat you the exact same way he treated all the others—or at least with the same detached, protective caution. He wouldn't be this wildly volatile, this was intensely personal and it didn't add up. Why would he be so much more awful to you if it was just about protecting Seunghyun?

You let out a soft sigh, letting the confusing puzzle of Kwon Jiyong fade out into the dark night sky. Turning your attention back to the glowing cityscape, you took another bite of your ice cream.

The rest of the night with Daesung passed smoothly. Neither of you realized just how late it was getting, you simply found deep comfort in each other’s presence. Daesung was incredibly sweet and understanding. He just let you rant, venting out all the built-up frustration from the afternoon, but he always countered your worries with comforting words and gentle solutions. When you hesitantly offered to just step back from the group entirely to keep the peace, he strongly disagreed, refusing to let Jiyong's mood drive you away. It was a beautiful, healing kind of validation, and it was exactly what you needed tonight.

By the time the strawberry tub was half finished and the night grew noticeably colder, Daesung finally had to leave. Before he did, he insisted on stepping up to the sink to wash both of your bowls and spoons.

"Yah! Oppa, you don't have to do that," you protested, trying to nudge him away from the faucet. "You bought the ice cream, the least I can do is the dishes."

Daesung just waved a soapy hand at you, "Don't worry about it! I don't want to keep you up any longer. You should head straight to bed right after I leave, not stay up cleaning. It's late."

You shook your head with a fond smile, watching him finish up the quick chore before walking him to the entryway. You wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. "Goodnight, Oppa. Get home safe."

"Thanks, Y/n'" he replied gently, patting your shoulder. "You sleep well. Don't let your thoughts get to you tonight, okay?"

With one last reassuring smile, he stepped out, and you clicked the door locked behind him. The moment the lock snapped into place, a massive yawn caught you off guard. Rubbing your eyes, you muttered to yourself, "Damn... I really am tired."

You padded through the quiet apartment, shutting off the lights one by one and making sure the patio doors were locked down tight. After shuffling into the bathroom to brush your teeth, you finally plop down into bed. The absolute second your head hit the pillow, you drifted off into a deep sleep. The perfect combination of the cool night air in your bedroom and the warm weight of your blankets sent you off peacefully.

But the peace didn't last.

As the hours ticked by, your sleep fractured, and your dreams twisted into something vivid and awful. In the dream, you were standing right back in the center of the studio. Jiyong was towering over you, his voice booming as he continued to yell. But this time, none of the other guys moved to defend you. All three of them just sat on the couches, watching you with cold, uncharacteristic disgust.

Taeyang was the first to speak, his voice flat and detached. "Yeah... I think it's best if you leave, Y/n."

Daesung slowly nodded his head in agreement, his usual warmth entirely gone. Your heart shattered as Seunghyun suddenly stood up, gripping your arm firmly and leading you out into the hallway.

When you were out of the room, Seunghyun let go, looking down at you. "I don't think this is going to work out anymore."

Tears blurred your vision in the dream, your voice cracking as you stuttered, "Wait, why? I—I'll be more quiet. Please don't shut me out."

"I'm sorry. It was nice knowing you,"  Seunghyun said coldly, stepping back and slamming the heavy door right in your face.

"No!" you screamed out.

The force of your own voice jolted you awake. You sat straight up in bed, your chest heaving as you panted heavily, your skin completely slick with sweat. You stared into the dark corners of your bedroom, trying to process the nightmare.

"What the fuck..." you whispered to yourself as you tried to catch your breath.

Needing to shake the residual weight of the dream, you swung your legs out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. You turned on the tap and splashed freezing cold water over your face. The icy shock was an instant relief, shocking your system back to reality. Leaning against the sink, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, letting out a breath of pure thankfulness that it had just been a bad dream.

But just as you reached out to shut off the bathroom light and head back to bed, the sudden chime of your doorbell rang through the apartment.

You froze, your hand hovering over the light switch. A sudden wave of genuine concern replaced the lingering traces of your nightmare. Shuffling back into the bedroom, you grabbed your phone off the nightstand. The glowing screen read exactly 4:00 AM.

Who the hell would be at my door at four in the morning? you whispered frantically to yourself.

Instinct taking over, you reached into your bedside drawer and gripped the familiar weight of your pocket knife. Keeping the apartment completely dark, you crept silently across the hardwood floor toward the entryway. Just as you reached the hallway, the doorbell rang a second time, the sound piercing the silence.

Holding your breath, you leaned forward and pressed your eye against the tiny glass of the peephole.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Standing under the dim, buzzing hallway light was Jiyong. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, his shoulder propping him up as if standing completely upright took too much effort. His signature black hair was in absolute disarray, falling wildly over his eyes, and the top buttons of his shirt were completely undone, exposing the pale skin of his collarbone. He looked utterly exhausted and completely vulnerable.

You let out a soft sigh, slipping the pocket knife safely into your waistband. You reached out and clicked on the dim hallway light before finally unlocking and drawing the door open.

Jiyong slowly looked up at you, his eyes foggy and distant, his black hair hanging down in thick, unruly strands right in front of his face.

"Jiyong," you said, your voice a mixture of shock and quiet concern. "What are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?"

The moment you took a proper look at him, your maternal instincts kicked in right away. You immediately reached out and ushered him inside, your hands brushing against his shoulders. "You must be so cold. Is it raining out?"

His clothes were noticeably damp, the wet fabric sticking stubbornly to his skin. Jiyong stumbled past you into the entryway, his movements heavy and uncoordinated. He was obviously very drunk. As he turned his head to speak the unmistakable smell of liquor rushed over you.

"I—I needed to see you, Y/n," he stammered.

You quickly closed the door behind him, locking out the freezing air and followed close behind him to make sure he didn't lose his footing. Jiyong looked around the dark apartment for a second, his foggy gaze drifting from the walls to the kitchen, getting entirely distracted.

"Wow... you—you have a really nice place," he said, his words slurring heavily together. He let out a breathless, unfocused chuckle. "I don't know how I haven't noticed it before."

You gently caught his arm, steering his swaying frame toward the living room. "Here, here... sit down," you urged, guiding him onto the soft cushions of the couch. "Why don't I make you a cup of tea? I really don't want you getting sick."

You rushed straight into the kitchen and put a fresh pot on the stove. Despite the deep anger and humiliation you were still harboring from his cruel behavior earlier that afternoon, you couldn't just leave him like this. He was still Seunghyun’s best friend. While you waited for the pot to heat, Jiyong continued to sit on the couch, aimlessly mumbling nonsensical compliments about your apartment. You grabbed a clean dry towel from the drawer and walked back over to him. Kneeling slightly in front of him, you began to gently wipe the dampness from his face and neck so he wouldn't catch a cold.

"Gosh, you're soaked," you fretted softly, moving the towel through his messy hair. "Do—do you want to borrow something dry? I think I might actually have a few of Seunghyun's old shirts left here."

The mention of his best friend seemed to pierce through his drunken haze. Jiyong’s hand shot out, his fingers surprisingly warm as they wrapped gently around your wrist. He slowly removed your hand from his face, holding your wrist in the space between you.

"No, no," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Don't care for me. I—I don't deserve it."

You let out a gentle sigh, looking at him. "Oppa, just because we don't like each other doesn't mean I can't care for you."

You gently disengaged your hand and went right back to wiping his damp skin, smoothing the towel down his neck. Jiyong’s brown eyes softened completely, the hard, defensive glare he usually gave you entirely vanishing. He just held your gaze, staring up at you with an intensity that made your heart beat faster. He scoffed a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

"Yeah... that’s the thing, isn’t it?" he murmured.

Then, his expression softened deeper into something you had never seen from him before. The cold, untouchable 'G-Dragon' armor was completely gone. In its place was a raw, deeply hidden vulnerability—the exact side of him Daesung had promised you existed.

A sudden wave of goosebumps broke out across your skin. The sheer weight of his gaze was overwhelming, and you quickly tried to avoid his eyes, focusing entirely on tracing the towel along his neck. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with him, it was that you were desperately trying to avoid the electric feeling that sparked in your chest every single time you looked right back at him.

The silence lasted for only a few seconds, but it felt like absolute minutes under his intense stare. Fortunately, the teapot suddenly whistled from the kitchen.

"I—uh, better go get that," you stammered, pulling your hand away.

You hurried back to the kitchen trying to steady your racing heart as you grabbed two ceramic cups, filling them both to the brim with the steaming fragrant tea. Before walking back into the living room, you stopped by the counter and took a deep, centering breath.

You walked back over to the couch, sat down directly beside him, and handed him one of the warm mugs. "Here. Drink this."

"Thank you," he muttered, his fingers brushing yours as he took the cup and took a long, desperate sip of the hot liquid.

You took a small sip of your own tea, before looking over at him. "Geez, Oppa... how much have you had to drink tonight?"

Jiyong slowly set his cup down on the coffee table. He ran his ringed fingers through his messy black hair, pushing the strands back from his face before letting out a rough sigh. "Not enough."

"Were you with the guys?" you asked, a sudden wave of worry hitting you. "Do—do they know where you are? They must be worried sick. I can call Seunghyun and—"

You began to push yourself up from the couch to grab your phone, but Jiyong’s hand moved instantly. His fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"No," he pleaded softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "Please don't."

Without saying another word, you slowly sank back down onto the cushions beside him.

"Just sit here with me... please," Jiyong whispered.

The quiet, desperate plea made your heart break into two. In the short time you had known him, you never in a million years thought he would ever plead for your presence—especially not after he had just screamed at you to leave his sight hours prior. Yet, looking at him now, you couldn't say no. You simply nodded your head, staying right where you were.

Jiyong took another slow sip of his tea, staring into the dark amber liquid. "I drank alone. The guys weren't with me. I—I'm sure they're doing something productive, but I... I just needed a break." He let out a ragged sigh.

You nodded understandingly, "Ah, yes. From work?"

Jiyong drunkenly shook his head, a sad, humorless smile touching his lips. "No. From my mind. I needed to shut off the thoughts, you know? You ever get like that?"

You stared down at your hands, a wave of empathy washing over you. "All the time," you whispered.

Jiyong leaned his head back against the sofa cushions. "And... and it worked for a bit. But then, I was about to head to the car—"

"Not to drive, right?'' you interrupted sharply, your eyes widening in sudden panic.

Jiyong dramatically shook his head again, waving a dismissive hand. "No, no. Jaeho was driving. But... then, across the street from the bar, there was this clothing store. And on display in the window... was that same fucking skirt you were wearing when we had dinner."

You blinked, your voice dropping to a breathless whisper. "When I first met you?"

Jiyong nodded his head a third time, his eyes locked onto yours, completely transparent in his drunken state. "And I just... I couldn't shut up the thoughts anymore. So I came here. I—I wanted to apologize."

Your eyes softened completely, the last remnants of your anger melting away as a gentle smile touched your lips. "Oh, Jiyong... that means a lot. Thank you." A nervous laugh followed after "Honestly... I thought you hated me."

Jiyong’s expression shifted as he spoke softly, the words carried a heavy undeniable truth. "No," he whispered, "I could never."

You looked straight into his brown eyes, the sudden silence falling over the apartment like a heavy blanket. But it wasn't the awkward, painful silence from the studio. This was a thick tension—the kind born from a truth that neither of you could put into words, charging the narrow space between you until the air felt heavy enough to break.

His eyes flicked down to your lips before rushing back up to your eyes, and before you could even register the movement, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was sudden, unexpected, and incredibly warm. Jiyong’s large hand slid to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide the kiss, pulling you closer. It felt desperate and full of a deep, aching longing—as if this was exactly what he had been starving to do all this time. Naturally, your body completely betrayed your mind, and you sank right into him. You weren’t sure why, and it was a thought that you knew would keep you awake for nights to come, but right then, your body felt like total liquid. All you could hear in the quiet apartment was the ragged sound of both of your breaths.

But it wasn't long before reality violently crashed back in. You realized exactly what you were doing, who you were kissing, and the sheer chaos of the situation.

You quickly pulled away from him, your palm pressing against his chest to create space. "Woah... Ji, I- cant'' You sighed before continuing, '' I think you've had way too much to dr—"

"I like you," Jiyong cut you off quickly.

The weight of those three words wrapped around you like a vice. He stared at you, completely raw. "I—I like you, Y/n. Shit, probably love you at this point."

He abruptly stood up from the couch, his long legs pacing the narrow space as he ran his hands through his messy black hair again. "I—I can't get you out of my head. Ever since we met... you're all I think about," he whispered, his voice trembling under the gravity of his own confession.

You sat there, completely frozen, having no idea what to say or what to do. The realization hit you all at once, shattering the puzzle pieces of the last few weeks into perfect clarity. His anger, his defensive walls, his volatile mood swings—it all made sense now. He wasn't trying to protect Seunghyun from you; he was trying to protect himself from his own feelings.

Slowly, you stood up with him, your mind racing a million miles an hour. Could this all just be part of his drunken haze? Would he even remember this tomorrow? And oh my god, Seunghyun. What would his best friend think if he ever found out about this? You were panicked, stunned, and completely out of words.

Trying to anchor your soaring emotions, you spoke softly. "Jiyong, I really think you're just drunk....you don't what you're saying ok? Maybe- maybe it's time for you to go home''

You forced a gentle, compassionate smile onto your face to soften the rejection. Jiyong searched your eyes for a long, quiet moment, desperately hunting for any hidden signs of regret. Finding none in your panicked expression, he gave a single, hollow nod.

"Um, right," he muttered, the sudden awkwardness turning the air ice-cold. He reached up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as the defensive walls began to slam back up. "I better get some sleep."

You quietly walked him to the door, the silence between you tense. As you both stood there at the threshold, the cool air of the hallway bleeding into your apartment, Jiyong cleared his throat.

"Thanks for the tea, Y/n," he said softly

"Of course," you replied

He offered you a small strained smile before turning around and walking down the dim hallway. You watched him go for a second before closing the door, the lock clicking into place with a definitive snap. The second he was gone, the strength left your legs. You leaned the back of your neck against the cool wood of the door staring blankly into your dark apartment. You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the absolute madness of the last ten minutes.

Clutching your face in your hands, you whispered to the empty room, "What the. fuck."

♡Taglist: @kpoppinstuffs. @chocomintlatey @missk-90 @jiryuunosnacku @hzzeta @lolzworld @gdtabibaby @kikokikokikokikokiko @redryy

[cressidium]

CHOI SEUNG-HYUN (T.O.P.) as Thanos (230) in SQUID GAME 2

[headsinthecloudforever]

hi! i’m the same person that put in the requested scene of jiyong being cockblocked by the cats, is there a way within that scene that we see a fully domesticated version of jiyong, his guard is completely let down, like a version of him that no one but the cats see? idk i really love soft ji in fics lol

Hey again luv🫶 Loving your requests. Ofc director Kwon has a soft side of him! but atm we've only seen it partially. Totes agree tho, we need to see behind his multiple layers🥹

I'll Defiantly add that in!

[headsinthecloudforever]

Hey Luvs🩵

Just wanted to let everyone know my updated posting schedule☺️

|Series: Monday, Tuesday, fri |One shots: Sat, Sunday

My goal is to post more often and not to leave too long of a gap between my posting cuz even I get impatient😝🫶

♡Taglist: @kpoppinstuffs. @chocomintlatey @missk-90 @jiryuunosnacku @hzzeta @lolzworld @gdtabibaby @kikokikokikokikokiko @redryy @moon-topttt. @seungttttop @missk-90

[headsinthecloudforever]

to follow up on another anonymous request with na-bi walking in, i would absolutely love a scene where jiyong gets fully cockblocked by either zoa or iye

You guys are on FIRE🔥 lately with these requests. Def gonna add that in 😉

[headsinthecloudforever]

what do you think about making sceneim fuck me right or dont fuck me at all where jiyong came over to yns house and na-bi walked in on them having fun😏

YES! I'm all for it. Stay tuned😉

[headsinthecloudforever]

aaaa i think y/n definitely needs to be strong and hold her ground when she tells jiyong about the messages and she cant back down. and jiyong has to eventually give up his bad boy facade in order not to lose y/n

I agree! I think this might just be the tip of the ice burg for her😬 But also remember she's battling with these new feelings inside her, she's falling for him and she's falling for him fast.

[headsinthecloudforever]

we need boss jiyong dead RIGHT NOWWW 😠😠😠😠 jk but still good chapter

You'll find out his side of the story soon enough!

[headsinthecloudforever]

‼️Updated upcoming list‼️

In Your Orbit★

|ONE SHOT|

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X reader

‼️Content warning: Explicit sexual content. 18+ only

About story: By day, Kwon Jiyong is the brilliant, demanding perfectionist who calls all the shots in the music industry. Everyone revolves around him. But when the bedroom door closes, the power dynamic completely flips. Exhausted from carrying the weight of his career, he needs a space where he doesn't have to be the boss. In bed, he happily surrenders all control to you, finding his release in your dominance, your rules, and your commands.

anon request~

─────── ·𖥸·

{A little bit of Sunshine☀︎}

|ONE SHOT|

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X reader

About story: Opposites don’t just attract—sometimes, they share a brick patio.

To the rest of the neighborhood, Kwon Jiyong is a walking red flag, radiating a permanent "do not disturb" aura, who also happens to run a tattoo parlor right next door to the chaotic, glitter-filled daycare where y/n work's.

Y/n is a teacher at Little Sprouts Daycare. Armed with pastel aprons, an endless supply of apple juice, and an unshakeable optimism, Y/n is the definition of pure sunshine. While the rest of the town avoids Jiyong, Y/n sees right through him—especially when she catches him waving hello to her students as they follow along in line past his shop.

Jiyong swears the daycare is nothing but an irritation. But when one of Y/n’s four-year-old students draws a picture of the "scary tattoo man" and the "sunshine teacher" holding hands, the lines between professional neighbors begin to blur. Can a man who deals in ink handle a girl who leaves a little sparkle everywhere she goes?

anon request~

─────── ·𖥸·

Break my cherry 🍒

|One shot| Pairing: Seunghyun X reader

‼️Content warning: Explicit sexual content. 18+ only

About story: He’s tall, intense, and you're completely intoxicated by him. You’ve let the anticipation build for long enough. Tonight, the teasing stops, the clothes come off, and you're finally letting Seunghyun claim your very first time.

─────── ·𖥸·

The Soft Side of Him

|ONE SHOT|

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X reader

About story: You and Jiyong have been in a cozy "talking stage" for months—ordering late-night takeout, and sharing hoodies but never actually defining what you are.

That changes when he invites you to a party with his best friends. The second you walk in he laces his fingers with yours and tells everyone, This is my girlfriend.

Suddenly, the cool, intimidating G-Dragon is gone. In his place is a sweet, lovesick boyfriend who spends the rest of the night side-hugging you, feeding you and completely melting every time you smile at him.

♡Taglist: @kpoppinstuffs. @chocomintlatey @missk-90 @jiryuunosnacku @hzzeta @lolzworld @gdtabibaby @kikokikokikokikokiko @moon-topttt. @seungttttop

[headsinthecloudforever]

Fuck me right, or don't fuck me at all

{SERIES} Chapter 04.

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X reader

Fuck me right, or don't fuck me at all-Masterlist

─────── ·𖥸·

The bright bathroom lights hum softly as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, your fingers gently tracing the faint, purple-tinted shadow blooming across your jaw. It is a perfect imprint of where Jiyong’s fingers had clamped onto your chin the morning before.

Seeing the physical proof of his possessiveness makes your stomach twist. It is an undeniable reminder that behind the luxury rides, the warm breakfast rolls, and the endless gifts, Director Kwon is a dangerous man.

Down by your feet, the soft, rhythmic thumping of a tail hits the bathroom tile. You look down to see Bear looking up at you, her bright eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

You smile down at her, forcing the heavy thoughts out of your mind as you gently scratch behind her ears. "I'm okay, Bear," you murmur softly, "I bet you want to go outside, yeah?"

The moment the word outside leaves your lips, Bear's ears instantly perk up. She lets out a happy huff and joyfully jumps in a circle.

Flipping off the bright bathroom light, you lead her down the long hallway toward the back of your apartment. You slide open the heavy glass doors, stepping out onto your expansive outdoor terrace where your private garden sits. To your relief, it is a beautifully sunny winter day, the bright morning light washing over the frost-kissed plants. You close the glass door behind you just enough to keep the warmth inside while Bear bolts forward, running laps around the terrace and playing.

Leaning against the glass, you let out a long, grounding breath.

Luckily, today is your day off. A wave of pure relief washes over you at the realization. You have a full twenty-four hours to yourself, giving the bruise plenty of time to start fading, or at least making it much easier to hide with makeup. Since the mark didn't actually start forming until this morning, absolutely no one at the office saw a thing yesterday before you left.

The electronic beep of the coffee machine cuts through the quiet room, signaling that your morning brew is finally done.

You pull a mug from the cupboard, listening to the final, slow drips of the dark liquid splashing into the ceramic. The rich aroma fills the air. Wrapping your hands around the warm mug, you take a slow sip, trying to let the heat settle the lingering knot in your stomach.

There was no food waiting for you on the doorstep this morning. You haven't spoken a single word to Jiyong since that incident in his office yesterday. After he walked out and left you dropped on his floor, no texts, no delivery boxes, no phone calls.

You take another sip of the hot coffee, staring blankly at the dark liquid in your mug. You truly can’t tell if you are relieved or deeply worried that you haven't heard a single word from him.

The conflicting emotions twist inside your chest, pulling you in two completely different directions. On one hand, you are genuinely scared of him. The terrifying memory of his ironclad grip on your chin and the bruising weight of his possessiveness yesterday makes your heart hammer with anxiety. Yet, at the very same time, a suffocating yearning laces through your fear. You find yourself missing the tenderness of his touch and the safety you felt with him.

You hate how much power he already holds over your thoughts. He can completely upend your entire life with a single glance, leaving you trembling on his office floor, and yet you still find yourself staring at your phone, secretly hoping for his name to light up the screen.

For a simple distraction, you pull a couple of fresh eggs from the refrigerator and slice a thick piece of sourdough bread, placing it into the toaster. Stepping over to the stove, you turn the dial and watch the small blue flame spark to life under the skillet. You drop a small pat of butter onto the hot surface, watching it melt and sizzle as it slides across the black pan.

You crack the eggs over the rim, sliding them into the butter. The clear whites instantly turn a bright opaque, bubbling gently at the edges. You season them with a quick pinch of salt and cracked black pepper, using a spatula to carefully flip them over-easy. 

Once the toast pops up, golden brown and steaming, you spread a light layer of butter over the crisp crust and carefully slide the eggs onto the bread, watching the warm yolks pool slightly over the surface. Carrying the warm plate over to the kitchen table, you finally sit down to eat.

You take a small bite of the warm toast, but the moment you try to chew, a sharp ache flares across your jaw instantly forces you to stop. Yesterday, his ironclad grip on your chin had felt terrifying; today, it has left a tender, deep bruise that makes even the simple act of swallowing difficult.

You set the fork down against the ceramic plate, your appetite completely gone. You trace a finger along your jawline and you wince as your skin meets the swollen, sensitive flesh. It is a physical, painful reminder of his possessiveness, marking you even when he isn't in the room.

The realization made a bubble of frustration boils up inside you, replacing the fear with pure irritation. You aggressively pull the cloth napkin from your lap and throw it directly onto the plate, completely covering the ruined breakfast. The gesture feels small, but it is the only outlet you have for the anger simmering in your chest. ''What the actual fuck!''

But the anger burns out just as quickly as it flared, leaving behind a hollow ache. Your shoulders slump, and the fierce frustration collapses into a heavy wave of helplessness.

Lifting your trembling hands, you bury your face completely in your palms, tears hot and thick sting your eyes, spilling over your fingers as you begin to cry. The contrast is agonizing: you are weeping from the literal pain of his harsh grip, yet the deepest part of your tears comes from the terrifying truth that you still yearn for his comfort.

You can't help but to wonder how you let it get this far, how someone's presence could become as necessary as air while simultaneously cutting off your ability to breathe. Every tear that slips past your wrists feels like a confession of weakness, a bitter admission that if he walked through the door right now, you aren't entirely sure whether you would run away from him or run straight into his arms.

You take one last shattered breath before forcing yourself to stop crying. Finally, you lower your hands, sniffling as you use the back of your wrists to wipe the hot tears from your damp cheeks. ''Okay y/n check yourself, you're fine''

After your mini pep talk, you walk over to the kitchen and throw out your breakfast then grab your coat, slip it on, and head outside, stepping straight into your mini indoor grow house to check on your garden.

You reach for your favorite purple watering can, filling it with cool, crisp water before stepping back into the rows of your indoor sanctuary. Deliberately locking your focus onto the plants, you move from pot to pot, letting the steady stream of water sink into the dark, thirsty soil.

You spend the next hour tending to the garden, completely immersing yourself in the repetitive, grounding work. You prune away a few yellowing leaves with a pair of small shears, loosen the dirt around the base of your youngest sprouts, and gently mist the delicate ferns. The quiet nature of the chores acts as a shield, slowly easing the tight knot of anxiety in your chest and bringing a sense of calm to your morning.

Bear nudges the door open with her nose and runs in. You turn and drop to your knees to hug her close, burying your face in her thick white fur.

"Hey girl, what are you up to?" you murmur softly.

She tilts her head to the side, listening intently to the sound of your voice. A genuine smile finally breaks through your exhaustion, and you gently rub the sweet spot right behind her ears. "Did you enjoy your nap?"

Bear leans into your touch, and you let out a quiet whisper. "I could go for a nap myself... and a drink."

Deciding you've done enough for the morning, you put away your gardening tools and pat her side. "Let's go inside, yeah?"

Bear lets out a sharp, cheerful bark in agreement. You carefully lock up the grow house, and she follows close at your heels as you step back into the apartment. After securing the terrace door, you slip out of your slippers and coat, hanging them back up.

Wanting to make sure she stays warm, you walk over and turn on the fireplace. Bear immediately pads over to her water bowl, laps up a few refreshing gulps, and then trots straight to the hearth, curling up on the rug right in front of the dancing flames.

You glance up at the clock. It is still far too early in the day for a drink, and as much as you want to numb the emotional weight with alcohol, you know it is smarter to treat the physical ache first. Walking over to the kitchen cabinet, you retrieve a bottle of Tylenol, shake the last pill into your palm, and toss it back with a glass of water to soothe your throbbing jaw.

Heading back into the living room, you flip off the overhead lights, plunging the space into a cozy, firelit dimness. You pull out your phone, switch it to completely silent, and set it face down on the coffee table—shutting out him, his leverage, and the rest of the world. Sinking onto the soft cushions of the couch, you pull a blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes watch the firelight flicker against the ceiling, your heavy eyelids flutter shut, and you fall into a deep, dreamless slumber shortly after.

It was only fifteen minutes later when a hard knock came to the door. You didn't wake up at first, and neither did Bear, both of you completely dead to the world. It wasn't until the second knock that Bear's ears raised up. She jumped to her feet and barked loudly at the noise, finally waking you up.

You feel incredibly groggy from just falling asleep, your mind sluggish as you sit up and squint into the darkness of your apartment. Suddenly, a third knock echoes through the room. Still in your pajamas, you shuffle over to the door and look through the peephole. All you can see is a crisp grey dress shirt and a tie that has been loosened at the collar, but you already know exactly who it is.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door. For the first time, there stands Jiyong right at your doorstep. He is holding his signature black gift boxes. Before you can even say a word, his intense eyes linger, scanning from your messy hair down to your Hello Kitty pajama shorts.

An amused smirk plasters on his face. He steps forward, his powerful presence making you instinctively take a step back as he lets himself straight into your apartment.

Jiyong looks around the apartment and lets out an impressed whistle as he sets the black box down on the kitchen counter. "Damn, I really do pay you well."

You yawn, rubbing your eyes sleepily as you try to shake off the grogginess. "Jiyong, what are you doing here?"

Instead of answering right away, he turns around and leans down to your height, his focus shifting entirely to the bruise he left behind. You hate the sudden, involuntary flutter your heart makes as he moves closer.

He tsks, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "Shit, I really did do a number on your pretty face."

He gently grips your chin with his hand, turning your face slightly to get a better look at the tender, swollen skin. Even with the gentle touch, the physical reminder of his possession makes you hold your breath.

Standing straight up again, he reaches over and hands you the black box. "I figured you needed something for the pain."

Cautiously, you take the light box from him and lift the lid. Inside, you see a new bottle of Tylenol sitting right in the center. You look down at the bottle, then look back up at him before handing the box right back into his hands. "Thank you, but I can get my own."

Jiyong raises an eyebrow at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. He walks closer, deliberately using his towering height to intimidate you until you can feel the warmth radiating off his him. Without taking his eyes off yours, he reaches into the box, pulls the bottle out, and places it harshly onto the counter with a loud, echoey thud.

Turning his back on you, he walks farther into the apartment, completely ignoring your rejection. Bear suddenly runs up to him, her tail wagging furiously as she jumps up, completely excited to meet a new friend. Instead of pushing her off, Jiyong actually reaches down to pet her thick fur.

"So this is your new dog," he says as he flips the small metal tag on her collar, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "I see you took my suggestion."

You stand still by the counter, a wave of confusion washing over you. You think for a moment, completely bewildered by the way he is acting. Why is he behaving like he's never seen the dog before? You thought you had sent him a picture of Bear the exact day you got her. That was the whole reason he knew you even had a dog in the first place... right?

As Jiyong continues petting Bear, you quickly pick up your phone and tap into your text thread with him. Your heart drops into your stomach as you scroll up—there is absolutely no picture of Bear anywhere in the history. It was never sent.

Setting the phone face down on the counter, you look up. "How did you know?"

Jiyong stands up to his full height, casually brushing a few stray strands of dog fur off his crisp grey shirt. "Know what?"

"That I got a dog?" your voice shakes slightly, the confusion turning into pure dread. "You sent a gift for her the exact day I got her. How—how did you know?"

He takes a deep breath, completely unbothered by your panic. "I told you, Jagiya, I can find out anything about anyone."

A bitter scoff escapes your lips. The invasion of privacy sends an anger boiling in your stomach. You walk past him toward the front door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. "I think you need to leave."

Jiyong lets out a low, scoffing laugh that sends a chill straight down your spine. Instead of walking toward the open door, he slowly begins rolling up his sleeves, exposing his forearms.

"Now," he murmurs. "Is that any way to talk to your boss?"

A mocking laugh escaped your lips,, tearing your hand away from the door handle, completely pissed off at how calm and collected he remains and you begin to yell. "Is this any way to treat your employee?! I mean, what are—are you fucking stalking me or something?!"

Jiyong steps closer to you, his massive frame completely eclipsing yours as he leans over you. Reaching past your shoulder, he firmly shuts the front door behind you. He leans down, his breath brushing against your skin as he whispers each word with dangerous precision: "Mind. Your. Tone."

Your throat suddenly runs completely dry. The terrifying dominance in his voice makes your heart beat ten times faster. Sensing this conversation might turn into a fight, you step away from him and quickly walk toward the terrace and let Bear back outside, wanting to protect her from the escalating tension so she doesn't hear the yelling.

Once you shut the terrace door tightly, separating your sweet dog from the room, you take a long, deep sigh. Forcing your voice to calm as you turn towards him.

"You can't just know things about me that I have never told you and not expect me to freak out," you say, trying your best to stand your ground.

When Jiyong says nothing, you turn your back on him and walk into the kitchen reaching into the cabinet to pull out two wine glasses and a bottle, then pour both of you a generous glass. You don't care about the time anymore; the sheer weight of his presence demands something to ease the nervousness.

You turn around and hold a glass out to him, but Jiyong doesn't take it. Instead, he just stands there, his arms crossed over his chest, watching you.

With an aggravated sigh, you place his glass down and take a large gulp of your wine. You clear your throat, trying to swallow the mounting anxiety. "Listen, I—I am not sure what you think this is, or what it's becoming, but it's not healthy, okay?"

He doesn't blink. He doesn't move.

"We—we had fun," you stammer, your voice betraying the very calmness you're trying to portray. "But you're a whole other level I can't handle." You let out a small, nervous laugh.

Still, Jiyong says absolutely nothing. The quiet is driving you mad, wrapping around your throat until the anxiety turns back into pure irritation, you snap. "Are you going to say something??''

He uncrosses his arms, his movements smooth and entirely unbothered. He calmly says, "You shouldn't yell. You're going to give yourself a headache."

The sheer normalcy of his tone mixed with him bluntly ignoring the massive boundaries he just crossed was mind boggling. He doesn't address the obvious stalking, he doesn't address your speech about how unhealthy this is, and he doesn't even acknowledge the open rejection you just threw at his face. He just stands there in your kitchen, treating your panic like it is nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Eventually, Jiyong nudges his head toward your wine glass and says smoothly, "Take a sip. Calm down."

You hate how easily your body obeys him, but you follow what he says anyway, taking another large sip.

"Good," he murmurs, his eyes tracking the movement. ''Now, speak."

You take a deep breath and repeat yourself, "Are you going to say something?"

He looks at you and asks calmly, "You're rejecting me?"

You gulp, your throat tight, but you force the words out. "I am."

He steps closer, closing the distance until you can smell his expensive cologne. "You don't want to continue this?"

You let out a mocking laugh, the absurdity of his question hitting you all at once as you yell, "Continue what?! What the fuck even is this? It's nothing! I mean—"

You cut yourself off, a sharp, throbbing ache suddenly flaring behind your eyes. You let out a heavy sigh, lifting your free hand to rub your temples, instantly regretting the shouting as the exact headache Jiyong warned you about begins to pound against your skull.

Jiyong calmly says, "Go on."

You sniffle as you force your voice to remain completely calm again. "How can you ask me if I want to continue this?" You motion with your hand between both of you," When it's obviously nothing more than a quick fuck?"

He visibly winces at your choice of words.

You pause before continuing. "Which is fine... if—if that's all you want. But you're giving me weird signals, and then this." You let out a sigh "You're just... a lot."

Deep down, the words taste like a lie on your tongue. If all Jiyong really wanted this to be was a casual, sexual relationship, you know you would be hurt. Despite the fear, despite the suffocating control, a painful truth is buried deep down, you are already gaining real feelings for him.

Jiyong reaches out, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he moves a stray hair away from your face. "If you want this to end," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, quiet register, "just say the word."

You look up into his deep brown eyes, catching a glimpse of that rare, soft side of him once more. The sudden shift melts away your frustration, replacing it with that familiar yearning. He steps even closer, his powerful frame shutting out the rest of the room until your back hits the hard edge of the kitchen counter.

Without a word, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and lifts you up, seating you on the counter so he can stand directly between your legs. He looks at you for a quiet moment, holding your gaze before dipping his head to press a warm, lingering kiss against the right side of your neck.

Your head instantly rolls back, leaning against the cabinet as a quiet whimper escaped your lips.

He peaks his head up, his gaze locked onto yours, his breath hot against your skin. "Just say the words."

Before you can form a thought, he dips his head to the left side of your neck, his lips tracing a path that sends a jolt of heat straight down your spine. You close your eyes, completely losing yourself to the intense pleasure he is causing. Your breath starts to quicken, your fingers instinctively gripping the fabric of his dress shirt as his lips move down your neck and across your jaw, carefully avoiding the bruise but marking you all the same.

You try to cling to the remnants of your logic. You whisper, stuttering your words through a breathless gasp, "I—I want this to e—"

The words die in your throat. You can't finish what you are saying, the sheer intensity of the pleasure and your own buried feelings completely overwhelming your resolve.

He continues kissing your neck, his lips unhurried and demanding all your attention as his hands shift down to the front of your top. His fingers work efficiently, starting to undo the buttons of your pajama shirt one by one. The cool air of the kitchen hits your skin as the fabric parts. He knows exactly what he is doing to you. He tracks the rapid rise and fall of your chest, using his lips and hands to ensure that the word "end" never crosses your lips again.

Your hand tangles into his soft hair, your fingers gripping the soft strands as his lips trail lower, kissing a burning path down to your chest and over your plump breasts.

''Jiyong'' You moan, his name slipping past your lips in pure pleasure. Your mind is screaming at you to stop, begging you to pull away and protect the boundaries you tried so hard to build just minutes ago. Yet, your body completely betrays you, locking you in place and tightening your grip on his shoulders as you pull him even closer.

His lips trailed all the way down from your breasts, past your stomach and stopping at your pajama shorts. At this point he was crouched down, both his hands holding your inner thighs firmly.

Realizing the placement of Jiyong's head, you look down at his brown eyes swirling with desire. You knew what he was going to do, and you practically shook with anticipation.

With his teeth, Jiyong gripped the fabric of your hello kitty shorts, and slowly pulled them down until it slipped past your ankles and fell to the floor, leaving you completely bare to him. Then, gently, his lips smothered your inner thighs with soft warm kisses. Teasing just how close his tongue is to your wet pussy, he swirls his tongue along your skin before leaving a sharp bite that makes you jump.

Your reaction made him chuckle against your skin, ''So sensitive'' he whispered, looking up at you.

Your knuckles were practically turning white from the grip you held onto the kitchen counter, the intensity being almost to much to bare.

The point he was trying to make is being proven over and over again, you wanted him desperately and he knew it. With one final kiss, he whispers ''Say you want me''

Not giving you time to respond, his tongue licked your folds almost as if he was showing you a teaser of whats to come.

You jolt at the sudden pleasure, your hands going straight back into his black locks.' 'F-fuck!''

He doesn't dare to move again until he hears those words leave your lips, ''Say it'' He commands again.

The words wanted to leave your tongue, desperately, basically begging you. But even with your mouth agape, nothing came out, the sentence replaced by ragged moans.

Finally, as his lips left hot kisses along the outside of your folds, you said the words. ''Goddammit Kwon Jiyong, I want you!!''

A smile crept onto his features, wanting this as much as you did but loving the way you obey to his command's. With that final confirmation, Jiyong dipped his head in between your legs letting his tongue and fingers do their job. It was an instant heat of overwhelming pleasure that you've never felt before him.

Your legs widen even more, welcoming him in as your fingers remain in his hair. You dare don't to guide him, to take control of how he moved. You were putty in his hands and he knew it.

Jiyong's free hand reached up & grabbed your bare breast giving it a soft squeeze, ''Mmm, so wet for me'' he rumbles against your skin.

You wouldn't know it but his body ached for a release, his dick throbbing against In his pants begging to be inside you. But still, his clothes remained on and his head remained in between your legs wanting to prove to you how much pleasure he causes you.

''Sh-it Oppa'' You whimpered

Your back arched, your pussy dripping, your body coated and glossy in sweat. You were a complete and utter mess. And you wouldn't change this for anything in the world. His tongue worked in eye watering motions, going in and out of you before doing an experienced roll on your clit. It was heavenly.

He devoured you like this was his last chance to taste you, licked up your juices as if savoring your flavor that would never dare to be forgotten. He wanted this day to be embedded in both your minds.

And it forever would be. With a phew more flicks of his tongue you began to tremble right there on the counter, ''Mmm, I'm-i'm close'' you whined.

Jiyong didn't dare to stop, he added an finger to his relentless pleasuring, moving in and out of you as he looked up and watched as you came on his fingers. ''FUCK''

He shifted, trying to ignore his own boner as his finger plunged in and out of you while you rode out your orgasm. Finally, his fingers came to a stop, taking them out of your still dripping insides, he stood up. He leaned his entire weight on the kitchen table behind him, also winded from the intense session.

Finally you open your eyes and let out the breath you didn't even realize you were holding. There in front of you was a man that looked completely unraveled by the sight of you, Jiyong leaned his hip on the counter while his chest rose and fell in heaves just as much as you.

Quickly, he composed himself. Taking a deep breath & running his ringed fingers through his sweaty black hair. Jiyong straightens his tie, walks over towards you & picks up your Pj's in one swift motion, holding them out to you as they hung from his index finger.

You bashfully take the shorts from him and slip them on before hopping off the counter and putting on your top. Jiyong stands perfectly still by the kitchen island, adjusting his cuffs as he waits for his boner to subside.

You take his untouched glass of wine that has been sitting on the counter and hand it to him. Looking up at him, you say, "You look like you need a drink now."

With an amused smirk plastering back onto his face, he takes the wine from your hand and lifts the glass to his lips drinking the whole thing down in one giant gulp.

He set the glass down with a sharp clink. Walking back over to you, he caught your chin in his hand, tilting your head up to force your eyes to meet his.

"I want you to remember this," he murmured, his voice. "I want you to remember exactly how it feels for me to pleasure you."

He let go, taking a step back to sweep his gaze across your apartment. The tension vanishing replaced by his usual charm.

"Now," he said, looking back at you, "are you going to give me a tour, or do I have to snoop?"

You smirked, stepping closer to him to grab your own glass of wine. Reaching out, you wrapped your fingers around his tie and gave it a playful tug, dragging him along behind you.

Jiyong let out a deep, rumbling chuckle but complied, following your lead without resistance as you began the tour.

For the rest of the night, the two of you fell into a breathless rhythm—drinking and fucking, fucking and drinking on repeat. Eventually, your clothes were completely forgotten, scattered carelessly across the floor.

Now, the both of you lay naked on the soft carpet in front of the fireplace, with nothing but a single fluffy blanket draped over you against the chill. Rested against his chest, you both held a fresh glass of wine. Jiyong pressed slow, lingering kisses into the curve of your neck. You reached behind your head, your fingers gently patting his cheek in response.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your skin, his breath warm as he kissed your neck once more.

"Mmm, oppa..." you murmured, leaning heavily into his touch and letting your eyes close.

Jiyong’s chest rumbled against your back as he let out a soft, satisfied sigh. His grip around your waist tightened just a fraction, pulling you closer as his lips lingered against your warm skin. The ambient crackle of the fireplace was the only sound filling the room.

Slowly, the warmth of the fire and the weight of the night took over, and the two of you drifted off to sleep right there on the floor.

The apartment grew quiet, wrapped in the deep stillness of the late hour. The only sounds remaining were the soft, rhythmic crackle of the fireplace and the faint squeaking of Bear happily chewing on her toy in the corner.

The next morning, things became entirely too quiet. Your alarm hadn't gone off, but your internal clock eventually jarred you awake. Your eyes shot open and you sat straight up. Blinking through a haze of sleep, you looked around at the wreckage of the night before: empty wine bottles, clothes scattered across the floor, and a discarded condom wrapper.

The only thing missing was Jiyong. Since it was a weekday, you immediately assumed he had left for work.

Furious with yourself for oversleeping, you scrambled up, threw the fluffy blanket around your shoulders and rushed into the bathroom, totally oblivious to the handsome man standing in your kitchen watching your panicked flight with pure amusement as he sipped his coffee.

A few seconds later, you burst out of the bathroom. A toothbrush was sticking out of your mouth, and you were only half-dressed—wearing nothing but your work shirt and underwear, desperately struggling to pull up and zip your pants.

"Bear? Bear!" you called out around the toothbrush, looking for the dog so you could let her out.

Receiving no answer, you spun toward the kitchen..and froze.

There stood Jiyong. He hadn't left for work at all. He was wearing nothing but his dress pants, his chest bare, holding a warm mug of coffee as he enjoyed the show.

"Good morning," he said, his voice smooth and laced with amusement.

Heat flooded your cheeks. Mortified, you tried to speak through the foam in your mouth, but nothing but incoherent, garbled nonsense came out.

Jiyong smiled, pointing a finger at your face. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

Defeated, you let out a heavy sigh and walked over to the kitchen sink, thoroughly rinsed out your mouth, and finally looked up at him

"Good morning," you muttered.

He set his mug down on the counter, stepped closer, and gently wiped a trace of toothpaste foam from the corner of your lip. "Hungry?" he asked. "I made breakfast."

You peered past his bare shoulder. Sitting in the pan, kept perfectly warm, was a fresh batch of gilgeori toast. A grateful smile broke across your face. "Oppa, thank you, but work—we're late, and—"

"Don't worry about it," Jiyong interrupted. "You're not working today."

He turned back around to start fixing you a plate. Confused, you quickly gathered your hair up into a messy bun, your heart hammering for an entirely different reason now. "But... rent is coming due—"

"I am paying you for today," Jiyong interrupted again, his tone completely nonchalant.

You stood there completely baffled. Was he pulling strings to give you paid time off? You were too intimidated to press him further so you stammered out, "But... pay me for what? I'm not working."

Jiyong turned back around, handing you the plate. Instead of stepping back, he leaned down until he was at exact eye level with you.

"How about this..." he smirked. "I pay you for today as if it’s a regular workday. But your rate goes higher every single time you can get me to cum."

Your face instantly flashed bright red. There was no way you could agree to this, so you let out a nervous laugh, trying to play it off as a joke. "Like a prostitute?"

Jiyong leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Exactly."

You nervously stammered, utterly shocked to realize he was being completely serious. But before a single coherent word could leave your mouth, Jiyong stepped back. He casually grabbed a plate for himself and gave you a gentle nudge toward the table.

Once you were both seated, he broke the heavy silence. "Eat before it gets cold," he said, his tone shifting back to effortless calm. "Your jaw looks much better today, so it shouldn't hurt to chew. But there's Tylenol if it does."

You glanced to your side. Sitting right there on the table was the exact bottle of Tylenol he had gone out to get for you the day before.

Obeying like always—your mind practically trained to listen to the cadence of his voice at this point—you picked up the toast and took a cautious bite. To your absolute surprise, there was very little pain. It was nothing like the agonizing ache of yesterday.

You savored the buttery bread, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes as a sigh escaped you. "Oh my god, Oppa... this is delicious!"

Jiyong smiled, simply watching you. His soft brown eyes tracked the way you took wholehearted bites, completely unbothered by the crumbs gathering at the corner of your mouth. He watched how comfortably you sat, with one leg tucked up to your chest and the other dangling, entirely focused on the food. Every now and then, your nose crinkled in delight.

All of it made his heart flutter—a strange, unfamiliar emotion he didn't quite understand yet. All he knew for sure was that he could stay like this with you forever.

You continued eating, completely oblivious to his intense stare, until you finally looked around the apartment for your dog. Setting down your almost-finished gilgeori, you asked, "Where's Bear?"

Jiyong set down his fork after taking a bite of his own toast. "She's outside. She was fed and watered this morning, don't worry about it."

And just as you opened your mouth to ask your next question, he interrupted smoothly, "And she's only been out there for about ten minutes. Not long."

You leaned back in your chair after taking another bite of your toast, looking at him with a knowing smirk.

Jiyong paused, his knife and fork hovering just above his plate as he was about to cut into his food. He looked up, his brow arching slightly. "What?"

You pointed a playful finger at him. "You’re a hard puzzle to crack, Kwon Jiyong."

He simply winked and took another bite of his food, a silent acknowledgment that left you laughing.

As the day continued, the living room floor became a battleground for a high-stakes game of Jenga. You giggled, entirely focused on pulling a loose wooden block from the bottom of the tower, while Jiyong leaned back on his elbows, blowing softly on your neck just to make your hand shake. ''Yah! Oppa, let me focus'' you giggled.

When the tower finally collapsed in a loud crash, he laughed hysterically naming himself the winner, until you stood up and tried to scramble up the fallen blocks for a rematch. Before you gather every last one of them, Jiyong was suddenly on top of you, pinning you to the carpet amid the scattered blocks, kissing you until you were both breathless.

By mid afternoon the wine flowed effortlessly, staining your lips and blurring the edges of the day. You shared glasses, traded sips, and laughed at ridiculous jokes that only made sense in the quiet confinement of your apartment. When nightfall hit, the heat shifted. Jiyong dragged you into the bathroom as you giggled, he insisted you shower together. Saves more water, he said.

The glass shower doors quickly fogging up from the steaming water. He pinned you against the wet tile, his hands slick with soap as he mapped your body, the sound of the rushing water drowning out your loud, echoing moans.

It became a dizzying replay of the night before—an intoxicating loop of drinking, fucking, and drinking again. The boundaries of the apartment blurred, every surface from the kitchen counter to the living room rug becoming a backdrop for his hands, his mouth, and his unyielding attention.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, the frantic energy of the day had finally melted away. Now, the two of you lay together completely naked in your bed, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other.

You rested your hand on your chin, leaning your weight against his bare chest. Your fingers moved slowly, tracing the lines of his ink. One by one, you circled each of his tattoos, and in a low, sleepy rumble, Jiyong told you exactly what they were and the stories behind them.

Eventually, your fingertips drifted down to his lower stomach. You lightly traced the two little 'X's inked right above his belly button. Looking up at him, you waited for him to explain the meaning behind this one.

He cracked one eye open to look down at you and let out a soft laugh. "That?"

He sighed, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he continued. "That one was just for fun. It’s meant to represent like a kiss, or something like that. I don't know honestly, it was more of a playful one."

You smiled against his skin, your finger still lightly resting on the ink as you looked up at his relaxed face, enjoying this rare glimpse of his unedited, casual side.

You hummed in response, your lips curving into a subtle smile against his chest. Slowly, your fingers stopped circling the ink and began to wander, drifting lower past his belly button.

Jiyong’s breath hitched slightly in his throat. The lazy, relaxed rise and fall of his chest hitched, and his hand, which had been loosely resting on your bare shoulder, tightened its grip. He looked down at you, a familiar, dark spark instantly returning to his eyes as he watched exactly where your hand was traveling.

"Wandering fingers," he murmured, "Are you trying to raise your hourly rate again?"

"Maybe I don't want you to forget how I can please you," you said, your voice dripping with a playful, teasing edge. "Just as much as you don't want me to forget."

But beneath the casual smirk, your heart was hammering against his ribs. In reality, it was a plea. A desperate, silent prayer that he wouldn't just walk away when this was over, that this wasn't just a fleeting, casual distraction to him, and that you actually meant something.

Jiyong didn't answer with words right away. Instead, he gripped your waist, easily picking you up and lifting you until you were straddling his lap, sitting right on top of him. The shifting blankets pooled around your hips as he reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your eyes.

His expression softened, "Trust me, jagiya," he whispered, ''How could I ever forget you?"

He sat up, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss before playfully tossing you back onto the mattress. "Alright, I've got to take a piss," he said with a grin.

You giggled, pulling the lightweight sheet tightly around your body as he padded off toward the bathroom. Lying back down against the pillows, you stared up at the ceiling, a genuine, radiant smile stretching across your face.

Suddenly, a phone vibrated sharply on the nightstand. You hadn't replied to Na-bi’s texts at all today, so you immediately assumed it was her. Rolling over onto your stomach, you kicked your legs up into the air and reached across the mattress to grab the device.

The screen lit up, but it wasn't your phone—it was Jiyong’s.

Your first instinct was to respect his privacy, and you were about to set it back down when another message buzzed through. This time, the preview displayed clearly across the screen from an unknown number.

I can come by later to pick it up 😉

Curiosity, mixed with a sudden spike of anxiety, got the better of you. You swiped the screen. Luckily, he didn't have a password. You tapped into the message thread, when a gasp leaves your lips as your eyes raced to read the text sent just a few seconds before the last one.

I left my panties at your house.

♡Taglist: @kpoppinstuffs. @chocomintlatey @missk-90 @jiryuunosnacku @hzzeta @lolzworld @gdtabibaby @kikokikokikokikokiko

[headsinthecloudforever]

Hey Luvs🩵

Chapter four of:

Fuck me right, or don't fuck me at all,

Will be posted poster first thing in the morning tomorrow! central standard time⏰

GUYSSS im so excited for this series🫶🩵