What your hands to do me
|One shot| Pairing: Kwon Jiyong X reader ‼️Content warning: Explicit sexuel content 18+ Only, Dry humping, fingering.
About story: The world knows him as the global icon G-dragon. But tonight, all you care about is finding out exactly what Kwon Jiyong’s hands can do to you
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The heavy glass door of the local bakery swings shut behind you, the bell chiming a sharp goodbye as you step onto the pavement. You take a quick satisfying bite of a warm flaky croissant, brushing a stray crumb from your lip before taking a sip of your iced latte. With some food finally in your system you begin navigating the morning foot traffic, luckily the bakery wasn't too far from your destination.
Just as you finish the pastry, the towering avant-garde silhouette of the YG Entertainment building comes into view. With one last swig of your coffee you toss the empty wrapper and cup into a bin near the entrance and step inside, ready for day one.
"You're exactly three minutes early," a sharp voice calls out in the silent lobby. Your new supervisor steps forward, checking her watch. "Good. Let's not make a habit of pushing it. Follow me."
You bow your head slightly with an awkward smile before following her into the elevator. You watch her reflection in the polished chrome walls as she adjusts the lapels of her blazer, and toys with her. She was honestly everything you were craving to be: A hard ass corporate woman. You honestly envied how she carried herself. But you also had to remind yourself you were nowhere near her level, in a good way. You're practically still fresh out of college and today's your first day.
You had time, but you will become a woman just like her.
Finally, the elevator chimes and you follow as she struts out toward a conference room, throwing the door open with unnecessary flair. The members of Bigbang are scattered around the long mahogany table, talking amongst themselves.
"Good morning, everyone," your boss announces, "This is our new assistant. She will be handling the day-to-day logistics and scheduling under my direct supervision, ensuring everything runs precisely to my specifications. But today she is just shadowing me.''
After the brief introduction, you take a step forward and offer a respectful bow. "It is an honor to meet you all. I look forward to supporting your upcoming projects''
You keep your soft eyes trained politely on the group as a whole, entirely missing the immediate, predatory shift on the left side of the table as the men individually greet you.
Kwon Jiyong sat low in his leather chair, the moment you spoke his brown eyes lock onto you, narrowing with instant interest. As you straighten from your bow, his gaze takes a slow, unhurried tour down the silhouette of your blouse, mapping the curve of your waist before traveling right back up to your lips. A faint, smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.
You remain oblivious, pulling out a chair a few paces behind your boss and opening your leather portfolio as she launches into a monologue.
"Now, regarding the timeline for the next track release," your boss begins, "I want the initial mix finalized by Thursday. Write that down."
"Understood," you murmur, leaning forward over the table to note the deadline.
The movement causes the deep V-neck of your blouse to drape loosely, parting just a fraction more than intended. For a fleeting second, the soft curve of your breasts is in view.
Across the table, Jiyong’s eyes notices instantly. His relaxed posture doesn't change, but his entire focus zeroes in on the exposed skin. He leans his chin on his hand, his thumb tracking slowly along his own jawline, completely checked out of the manager's rambling. His gaze stays heavy, thick with want , silently tracking the rise and fall of your chest every time you take a breath.
Sitting right beside Jiyong was Choi Seunghyun. He catches the sudden shift in his leader's attention. Seunghyun looks away from their manager and follows Jiyong’s fixed gaze straight across the table.
Realizing exactly what Jiyong is staring at, Seunghyun lets out a faint, exasperated breath. Without shifting his upper body or breaking his own focus, Seunghyun drops his hand below the edge of the table and delivers a sharp, solid nudge with his elbow right into Jiyong’s arm.
Cut it out, the silent gesture says.
Jiyong flinches slightly, furrowing his eyebrows at his band member. His hand rubs the area that was hit as he shifts his weight in his chair, lazily crossing one leg over the other. But his eyes fixed right back on you as you finish your note and straighten back up.
"And if you look at the quarterly breakdown on my laptop—" Your boss cuts herself off, turning toward the wall with a frustrated huff. She reaches up, grabbing the thin nylon cord dangling from the large white projector screen rolled up against the ceiling. She gives it a hard yank, but the mechanism groans and locks in place halfway down. "Oh, for heaven's sake. This thing was supposed to be serviced last week."
She yanks it again, her face turning a slight shade of red as she fumbles with the string, completely losing her authoritative composure.
You quietly set your pen down and stand up from your chair, stepping forward to intervene before she tears the screen off the wall. "Let me try, ma'am. It looks like it's just stuck."
Taeyang shifts in his seat, opening his mouth to offer assistance. "Actually, you might need to—"
"You just have to lean forward and grab it from the base of the bracket," Jiyong chimes in. He slouches slightly lower into his chair, a lazy helpful smile plastered on his face as he gestures toward the top of the wall. "The damn thing gets stuck all the time. Give it a firm pull toward yourself first."
You turn your head to look at him, offering an appreciative smile. "Oh, thank you."
Turning back to the screen, you step closer to the edge of the conference table. To reach the stubborn bracket, you have to lean forward significantly, bending over the side of the table as your hands reach upward for the cord. The movement pulls the hem of your tailored skirt tight across your hips, riding up just enough to expose the smooth skin of your thighs if you're at a certain angle. Which a certain some was.
From his position across the table, Jiyong’s bites his lip as he watches you. He remains unusually quiet, his eyes tracing your exposed thigh until they land on your blush pink panties.
The tension is palpable as you give the cord one final tug. With a sharp click, the mechanism finally releases, and the white screen glides down smoothly into its locked position.
Jiyong quickly sits up, clearing his throat smoothly and adjusting the front of his trousers in one seamless motion before anyone else can notice. His lazy slouch vanishes, replaced instantly by a perfectly casual, attentive posture.
"Perfect. Finally," your boss mutters. She plugs the HDMI cable into her laptop, the screen instantly flickering to life with a colorful array of timelines. "Now, as I was saying before the interruption, if everyone could look at the projected slide..."
You smooth down the hem of your skirt and make your way back to your table, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. As you pull out your chair and settle back into your seat, picking up your pen to resume taking notes, you naturally glance across the mahogany table.
Jiyong is staring straight ahead at the presentation, his expression completely blank. But as your boss continues into a tedious explanation of marketing budgets, his brown eyes slowly dart sideways, catching yours for a brief second. Neither of you looked at each other for too long, and you were the first to look away. But that was all the proof he needed that you were interested too.
Which was true, you just hid it better than he did. The moment you stepped into the room he was the first among the members your eyes locked on. He was incredibly handsome and his hands were the first thing to make your legs quiver. All that kept going through your mind was what those hands can do to you.
Even now, as you pretend to diligently log your boss’s mundane notes, your mind keeps drifting back to the sight of his fingers. Long, elegant, and adorned with a casual array of silver rings. Just looking at the stead grace of his movements had sent a traitorous ache straight down your thighs, making your knees feel weak.
The thought loops in your head like a feverish chant. You can picture them vividly—veins tracing down the backs of his hands, fingers that looked like they knew exactly how to grip, how to touch, and how to completely unravel a woman. You swallow hard, keeping your chin down and your eyes fixed on the paper, desperately trying to cool the sudden warmth rising up your neck.
Across the table, Jiyong doesn't push his luck. He doesn't look back at you right away, knowing that drawing the manager’s attention would ruin the quiet game he’s just started. Instead, he simply leans back in his chair again, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate circle against the edge of the mahogany table, as if he knows exactly what you’re imagining.
That unforgettable first meeting was merely the preface to a silent, maddening game. As the weeks rolled on and you continued to work closely with the four men, the agonizing sexual tension between you and their leader only deepened, morphing into a constant, breathless undercurrent that dictated every room you shared. Jiyong became a master of the imperceptible high-stakes maneuvers right under everyone’s noses; he would find excuses to stand so close to you in crowded hallways that his ring-adorned fingers would lightly brush against yours, sending butterflies to your stomach while he maintained a perfectly blank face.
Yet, despite the constant friction, you kept your composure flawless and refused to give him an actual, definitive "yes" until the very first time he truly touched you. You were sitting directly beside him at the wide desk in the recording studio, the rest of the room completely absorbed in a chaotic playback debate, when his warm, heavy hand suddenly dropped beneath the table and clamped firmly onto your inner thigh. You gasped quietly, the sharp intake of air catching painfully in your throat as his fingers squeezed the sensitive skin with an overwhelming, possessive pressure.
He didn't even look at you, keeping his profile perfectly calm and his eyes fixed on the monitors ahead as if nothing were happening, but the sudden, intense heat radiating from his palm turned you completely to putty in his hands. As your defenses dissolved and your body melted under his touch, a knowing satisfaction settled into his features—he didn't need to look at your face to know that he finally had you.
It wasn't until a full week after that afternoon that the unspoken tension between you was finally brought to light. You were alone, closing up the recording studio for the night and shutting down the mixing boards, when the door clicked open. Jiyong strolled back inside, acting his usual flirty self as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you.
As you lean far forward over the recording console to reach the master power switches, you don't even need to turn around to know exactly who just walked through the door. You let out a soft sigh, your hands resting on the edge of the smooth board as you speak into the quiet room.
"What do you need, Jiyong?"
Jiyong doesn't answer right away. Instead, he leans his upper body back slightly against the heavy doorframe, his eyes dropping instantly to track the smooth curve of your rear highlighted by your bent-over posture. "Just checking in," he says, his voice a smooth purr that ripples through the quiet space. "Don't want you working too late."
He finally moves away from the doorframe, his slow footsteps making absolutely no sound against the studio's carpeted floor.
You press the final master switch, and the vibrant neon lights of the recording console instantly fade into total darkness, leaving the room illuminated only by the dim amber accent lighting along the walls. Straightening your posture, you turn around to face him directly, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.
"I'm just shutting off the equipment," you say, keeping your tone as crisp and professional as you can manage, "and then I'm leaving."
Jiyong steps directly into your path, stopping so close that the heat radiating from his chest bleeds right through the thin fabric of your blouse. The heavy, intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne completely traps you, pinning you against the edge of the dark, cold console behind you.
He tilts his head, his gaze intensely focused on yours, seemingly unbothered by how loud your heart is thumping in the quiet room. Testing the boundary, he leans in, closing the space between you until you are fully enveloped in his presence.
''That's a shame'' he murmurs. Jiyong slowly takes his hands out of his pockets, his fingers hovering just an inch away from your waist, "And here I thought you stayed because we still had so much to discuss after last week. It felt like we were just getting to the most interesting part."
He made you nervous and it was obvious the moment those nerves hits you, your breathing quickened and your ears turn red. Still, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to lean back against the edge of the board as you find your voice.
"Actually," you say, trying to match his confidence "yes, we do have a lot to discuss about that."
Jiyong takes another deliberate step forward, closing the remaining distance until he is looming directly over you. The physical pressure of his proximity leaves you with absolutely nowhere to go, forcing you to hop backward and sit right up on the cold console. Now, you are forced to look up at him as he steps right up to your knees, trapping you completely.
You quickly clear your throat, "Listen, Jiyong. This is highly unprofessional. I mean, I'm your manager—and not to mention, I'm years younger than you. How old are you? Twenty-nine, right?" You swallow hard, your thoughts scrambling as he leans closer. "I—I mean, if anything got out, people would say I slept my way to the top and—"
An amused smirk splits his face, cutting you off instantly. "Oh," he begins, his voice dropping an octave, "So we're sleeping together now?"
Your face immediately burns a brilliant furious shade of red. "No! No, that's not what I meant, i-i just mean... if you keep acting like this, getting me all..."
"Turned on?" he interrupts again, his brown eyes locking onto yours.
You roll your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the way your lower stomach flips at his words. "Flustered," you snap, correcting him defensively. "Then people will just assume things."
"So, what I'm hearing is that you don't want me to touch you like I did last week?" Jiyong asks, his voice dripping with mock innocence.
You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat, raising your chin to meet his gaze as firmly as possible. "Correct."
Jiyong doesn't pull back. Instead, he slowly lifts his hand, bringing his long, ring-adorned fingers up to the side of your face. He stops just millimeters away, letting his fingertips hover over your warm cheek without actually making contact. He simply waits, watching your reaction with agonizing patience. The heat radiating from his skin is a physical temptation, and almost instinctually, your body betrays you; your eyes flutter shut for a split second as you slightly lean into his phantom touch, craving the contact.
The subtle movement doesn't escape him. He lets out a low chuckle and suddenly drops his hand.
Before you can even register the loss, he leans down, planting both of his large, warm palms firmly onto your bare thighs. You shudder at the sudden rush of heat, your fingers gripping the edge of the console behind you as the cold metal contrasts sharply with his touch.
"You don't want me feeling you?" he asks as his hands begin a slow, torturous ascent up your thighs. He leans his head down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. He whispers, "You don't want to feel me?"
Your body does the talking for you before your mind can even formulate another lie. The moment his fingers creep higher, a soft whimper breaks from your throat. Your knees automatically part a fraction more, yielding to his overwhelming presence and inviting him in.
Jiyong watches the exact moment your resistance shatters. He tracks the heavy flutter of your eyelashes and the way your head tilts back slightly, your lips parting as you try to catch your breath. The sheer honesty of your reaction makes his smirk melt into something much darker and more intense.
He slides his hands further up, his broad palms gripping your thighs with a possessive firmness as he steps in between your now open legs. He pulls you flush against him, closing every agonizing millimeter of space until you can feel his hardened cock pressing right against your center through the thin fabric of your clothes.
"Beautiful," he growls. He leans down and his teeth graze the sensitive curve where your neck meets your shoulder, making your entire body arch into him instinctively. His fingers dig in deep, anchoring you to him as he thrusts his hips forward, reminding you with absolute certainty exactly who has total control in this room.
The frictionless pretense of the last few weeks disappears entirely as Jiyong presses his weight forward, anchoring you flat against the edge of the recording console. He hooks his hands firmly under your thighs, lifting your hips just enough to align your bodies perfectly before burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.
A low, gravelly groan breaks from his chest as he begins to roll his hips against you in a heavy, rhythmic friction. ''Fuck, y/n''
The sensation of his rigid length grinding hard against your pussy through the layers of your clothes sends a violent wave of heat straight to your core. You gasp into the empty studio, your fingers instantly flying upward to grip his shoulders, your nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. Every deliberate roll of his hips coaxes another breathless moan from your lips, your inner thighs squeezing tightly around his waist to pull him even closer.
Jiyong doesn't slow down. His hand reaches down up into your skirt and into your panties before his fingers finally reach your pussy. Suddenly, he rubs quick circles along your clit making you wither beneath him as his breath hits your collarbone in short, hot bursts. He shifts his grip, his free hand sliding up to span across your lower back to pin you flush against his chest forcing your body to match the bruising rhythm of his pace.
He groans. ''Mmm, so wet for me''
The think rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you and his long fingers pleasuring you generates a suffocating friction that has you completely unraveled. ''OH fuck! just like that'' you moan out, losing all sense of the room around you.
Your head rolling back as you give in entirely to the intense, unyielding pressure of his body moving against yours, letting him set the pace in the dark. The heavy friction build to a sudden, overwhelming heat in your lower stomach that catches you completely off guard. A breathless gasp tears from your throat as a violent wave of heat ripples through your entire body, your muscles instantly tightening as you're getting close to hitting your climax. Your fingers dig frantically into the fabric of Jiyong’s shirt, your head rolling back.
''Jiyong i-i am close'' You whimpered, slightly embarrassed of how fast he was getting you there.
Jiyong feels the exact moment your body is seconds away from giving out beneath his hands. A low, ragged growl breaks from his chest as he presses his dick fully against you, holding you flush against the console as he quickens his pace. His grip on your hips will for sure will leave a bruise as he tightens it.
His finger's suddenly insert themselves into you, first one then two. Your body instantly arched into his touch letting his fingers go deeper.
Jiyong smirked looking down at you, pleased with how he was making you feel. Watching you is what brought him to his end, his hardened dick grinder against the thin fabric of your skirt as his eyes never leaned yours. With a loud groan and one last steady thrust, he came, burying his head in the crook of your next as he rode out his orgasm.
For several moments, the only sound in the dark room is the frantic, overlapping rush of your breathing. He stays perfectly still as the overwhelming fog of the moment slowly begins to clear, leaving the air between you thick with a new, permanent shift in power.
Jiyong slowly steps back from you, the heavy pressure of his body suddenly vanishing and leaving you cold against the edge of the console. His breathing is still fractured, and as he stands in the dim amber light of the studio, a prominent wet spot is visible on the front of his jeans. Without a word, he runs a hand through his hair and walks directly over to the private bathroom inside the recording suite, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
You are left sitting entirely alone. The quiet of the room feels incredibly heavy now, broken only by the faint hum of the inactive equipment.
A sharp, frustrating ache burns deep in your lower stomach. Your skin is still flushed and your pulse is hammering, the sudden halt leaving you completely unfulfilled and wired with restless tension since you didn't get to finish.
The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the quiet studio, followed by the steady drone of the sink running for a few moments. Then, the bathroom door clicks open, and Jiyong walks back into the room. He walks directly over to where you are still sitting on the console, stepping right back into the space between your knees. Leaning down, he reaches up and grips your chin firmly between his fingers, forcing you to look straight at hime.
"Want to cum next time?" he whispers, his gaze dropping to your lips before locking back onto yours "Let there be a next time."
He lets go of your chin and steps back, turning on his heel to walk out of the soundproof studio door without saying another word. The heavy door clicks shut behind him, leaving you completely alone in the dim amber light of the quiet room.
You sit there on the edge of the console for a long moment, completely flustered, your skin still burning. A sudden quiet laugh escapes your lips as the reality of the situation hits you, and you shake your head at the absolute absurdity of what the fuck you are actually doing.
Pushing yourself off the metal desk, you take a deep breath to steady your shaking hands, straighten your blouse and smooth down your skirt. Once your professional exterior is completely back in place, you grab your leather portfolio and walk out into the hallway, the secret of what Kwon Jiyong’s hands can do safely locked away behind the studio doors.
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