Chapter Text
You couldn’t remember exactly when this all started—only that it had been a collision waiting to happen. One drunken night, a heated argument with Jiyong had turned into something neither of you could take back. You still recalled the fire in his eyes, the way his fingers had wrapped around your throat before slamming you against the wall. His lips had crashed against yours, all fury and desperation, his hands roaming your body like he needed to claim every inch of you. Your legs had locked around his waist, his name spilling from your lips between breathless moans as he fucked you against the cool surface. He had buried his face in your tits, groaning with every ragged thrust, his anger bleeding into something darker, something insatiable.
And that’s how it had been for the last six months—rage, resentment, and raw, reckless lust. The fights never stopped, but neither did the sex. The bruises on your skin from his grip always faded just in time for new ones to take their place. It was a secret, one that weighed heavy on your conscience. You hated Jiyong, and he hated you. That was the rule. It was just meaningless, hate-filled sex.
But then, everything changed.
Choi Seunghyun was the opposite of Jiyong in every way. Where Jiyong was sharp edges and biting words, Seunghyun was warmth and patience. He greeted you every morning with a soft smile, a cup of coffee waiting in his hand just for you. He asked about your day, listened intently when you spoke, made you feel seen in a way you hadn't in so long. You found yourself looking forward to those moments, the easy conversations, the way he treated you like you were worth something more than just fleeting pleasure.
And then came Valentine's Day.
Seunghyun stood before you, a bouquet of roses in one hand, a cliché heart-shaped box of chocolates in the other. His expression was shy, almost uncertain as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“There’s, uhm… this new restaurant that just opened up,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I thought maybe we could try it? Together?”
Your heart clenched, your breath catching in your throat.
You knew he liked you. You had felt it in the way he looked at you, in the way he lingered just a little longer whenever he spoke to you. But you never thought he’d actually do something about it. Not when you practically worked for him.
You stared at the flowers, your mind racing for a response. From the corner of the room, Jiyong sat frozen, his normally unreadable expression cracked wide open. His lips parted slightly, his eyes dark, unblinking as he watched the moment unfold.
You liked Seunghyun. A lot.
But you had been hate-fucking his best friend for months.
“I-uhm…”
Seunghyun’s face faltered for a second before he quickly masked it with a polite smile. “You don’t have to. I mean, you probably already have plans. Just—just forget I asked. Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N.”
He turned to walk away, the blush on his cheeks deepening, but something in you refused to let him leave.
“Wait!” The word slipped out before you could stop it. You barely recognized the sound of your own voice. “I-I’d love to actually…”
Seunghyun’s expression lit up like the sun breaking through storm clouds. “Really? Great! I’ll pick you up at eight?”
For the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled—genuine, unforced. “Sounds great.”
Seunghyun walked away with a barely concealed skip in his step, leaving you standing there, the scent of roses still fresh in the air.
And then the moment shattered.
Jiyong scoffed, the sound slicing through the silence like a blade. You had almost forgotten he was there. Almost.
He sauntered toward you, plucking a single rose from the bouquet and twirling it between his fingers. His lips curled into something cruel, something wounded. “You’re really gonna go out with my best friend? After spending the last six months screaming my name?”
“Shut up, Jiyong,” you snapped, turning away. You didn’t want to have this conversation.
But he wasn’t done. “No, really, I’m curious. You trying to work your way through the whole band, or just the ones closest to me?”
Your blood boiled. “It’s not like that!”
“Oh? Then tell me, what is it like?” He stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin. His voice dropped lower, rougher. “You gonna let him touch you the way I do? Gonna let him fuck you the way I do?”
“I actually like Seunghyun.” The words were out before you could stop them.
Something flickered in Jiyong’s eyes. Something you’d never seen before. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. “We fucked this morning, Y/N,” he bit out, his voice barely above a growl. “This morning.”
You held his gaze, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “Well, that was the last time.”
You turned on your heel, walking away without another word.
Jiyong’s chest heaved, his hands trembling at his sides. The moment the door shut behind you, he grabbed the glass of water you had left on the table and hurled it against the wall.
The sound of shattering glass filled the empty room.
-
You were the band’s lead stylist, for Christ’s sake. You could dress five grown men in elaborate stage outfits without breaking a sweat, yet here you were, standing in the middle of your bedroom, drowning in rejected dresses. The floor was littered with fabric, discarded options that just didn’t sit right, clinging too tightly in the wrong places or making you feel like a stranger in your own skin. Frustration bubbled in your chest as you yanked yet another dress over your head and then tossing it aside with a huff.
Why was this so hard?
Because this wasn’t just any date.
It was a date with Seunghyun.
Your stomach twisted at the thought. You wanted to look perfect tonight, wanted everything to be effortless, elegant. You wanted to be soft in a way you hadn’t been allowed to be in a long time.
But deep down, a bitter little voice whispered that maybe you didn’t deserve this kind of good.
The ghost of Jiyong’s touch still lingered on your skin—hot, possessive, sinful. Just this morning, his hands had been on you, gripping your thighs, your waist, his lips dragging down your neck as if branding you. The shame of it burned through your chest. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Seunghyun and Jiyong had been best friends since they were kids. This whole situation felt like a betrayal waiting to happen.
But then there was Seunghyun himself—kind, gentle, thoughtful. The type of man you’d once dreamed of, back before your life had been tangled in the mess of lust and hate. He was the kind of man who took his time, who cherished, who actually cared. And more than anything, you liked him.
And you didn’t like Jiyong.
…Right?
Jiyong was infuriating, arrogant, selfish. He pushed all your buttons, knew exactly how to set your blood on fire. That’s what fueled it, wasn’t it? The hatred, the push and pull, the way you loathed the very sight of him until you were pinned beneath him, gasping his name.
It wasn’t real. It wasn’t love. It was nothing.
You exhaled sharply, forcing the thoughts from your head. Your fingers smoothed down the black dress that hugged your curves, the sleek fabric clinging in just the right places. It was classy, yet undeniably sexy. This was the one.
You slipped on your black heels, threw on a matching cardigan, and checked yourself one last time in the mirror. A final touch of gloss on your lips, a quick fix of your hair—then the doorbell rang.
Your heart leapt.
You swallowed hard, inhaling deeply before hurrying to the door. When you pulled it open, the sight of Seunghyun standing there sent warmth through your chest. He looked effortlessly handsome, dressed in a dark suit, a soft grin tugging at his lips.
“Seunghyun! Hi!” you greeted, your smile bright but nervous.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said smoothly, pulling something from behind his back—a single black dahlia. “Jiyong said these were your favorite.”
The breath hitched in your throat.
Jiyong.
Your fingers froze before hesitantly reaching for the flower. “Jiyong told you that?”
Seunghyun nodded, looking at you expectantly. “Yeah, he said you mentioned it once, that you love dahlias. Did he get it wrong?” His voice was light, playful, but his brows furrowed slightly, as if sensing your hesitation.
You forced yourself to push the unease away, offering him a smile. “No… he got it right. I do love them. Especially black ones.” You ran your fingers gently over the petals. “Thank you, Seunghyun. It’s beautiful.”
But your mind was already spinning.
Why the hell would Jiyong tell him that? Had they talked about this date? What else had Jiyong said? Was he trying to sabotage you? Or was this his way of reminding you—of digging his claws in and making sure you never truly forgot about him?
“Ready to go?” Seunghyun’s voice pulled you back to the present.
You blinked, shaking the thoughts away. “Yeah! Let me just grab my purse.”
You set the flower down carefully on the table in the entryway before grabbing your bag and stepping out into the night.
-
The car ride was quiet, but comfortable. Seunghyun didn’t push conversation, choosing instead to let the soft hum of music fill the space between you. The city lights blurred past outside the window, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relax.
When you arrived at the restaurant, Seunghyun was a perfect gentleman, stepping out first and opening the door for you. He offered his arm as he led you inside, giving his name to the host.
Almost immediately, you were ushered to a private dining room.
The scene was breathtaking—dim lighting, flickering candles, a pristine white tablecloth and delicate wine glasses. It was intimate, romantic in a way that sent warmth creeping up your neck.
“Wow, Seunghyun…” You turned in awe, drinking in the effort he had put into this. “This is… this is beautiful.”
His lips quirked into a pleased smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
He moved to pull out your chair for you, and you found yourself smiling as you sat. When he took his seat across from you, he grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring for both of you before lifting his glass.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, his gaze warm.
You chuckled softly, clinking your glass against his. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
As the night went on, conversation flowed effortlessly. He was easy to talk to, his voice soothing, his words thoughtful. He spoke about art, about music, and you found yourself telling him about your passion for fashion in a way you hadn’t in a long time. There was no competition here, no venom, no tension like there always was with Jiyong.
By the time the date ended, he walked you to your front door, lingering for just a moment before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek.
“Thank you for tonight,” he murmured.
You bit your lip, watching as he walked away, a giddy warmth blooming in your chest. You wanted more, but you liked that he didn’t rush. That he wasn’t like—
You opened the door to your apartment, stepping inside.
And then your stomach dropped.
“How’d it go?”
The voice sent ice down your spine.
Jiyong was sitting on your couch, the flickering light from the TV casting sharp shadows across his face.
Your smile vanished instantly. “How the hell did you get in here?”
He smirked, holding up a key. “I have a key to everyone’s place. I’m G-Dragon, remember?”
“I’m changing my locks,” you snapped.
He chuckled darkly, rising to his feet. “So? Did Seunghyun make you feel all warm and special inside?” His voice was laced with mockery, but beneath it, something else simmered.
“He’s respectful,” you shot back. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”
Jiyong stepped closer, his smirk widening. “Or maybe he’s just too shy.” His eyes flickered with something dangerous. “Me and him have always differed in that area.”
“Maybe I like him that way.”
His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, slow, teasing. “What you like, princess, is getting fucked. Hard. By me.”
You barely had a moment to react before Jiyong’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you forward with enough force to send you colliding against his chest. The scent of him—cigarettes, expensive cologne, and something distinctly Jiyong—swallowed you whole, making your knees weak before he even said a word.
His grip was firm, unyielding, his body heat seeping through the fabric of your dress. Your breath hitched as his other hand ghosted up your arm, trailing lightly over your shoulder before settling at the base of your neck, his thumb pressing just enough to make your pulse race. His voice was a whisper, a slow drag of smoke and sin against your lips.
“Tell me you’re not dripping for me right now.”
Your breath shuddered. You tried to will yourself into stillness, to force your body to resist the pull he had over you. But the way he looked at you—his dark eyes hooded, lips just barely parted—had your resolve cracking apart like fragile glass.
“I—I’m not…” The words barely made it past your lips, trembling and unsure.
Jiyong hummed, the sound low and knowing. His hand left your wrist, trailing lower, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. You knew what was coming, knew you should stop him—but you didn’t.
His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, slow and deliberate, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before sliding upward, pressing right where you were aching for him most.
Your body betrayed you.
He exhaled sharply, his smirk sharpening as he felt the undeniable heat and wetness pooling there. His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, voice dripping with amusement.
“Liar.”
Shame surged through you, burning hot and unrelenting. You should push him away. You should tell him to get the hell out.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you stood there, your body betraying you in the worst possible way. Your thighs clenched around his fingers involuntarily, your breath coming in shallow, needy little gasps.
Jiyong didn’t move, didn’t press further—he was waiting. Waiting for you to break first, to give in, to confirm what he already knew.
And you did.
“Maybe just…” Your voice came out weak, barely above a whisper. You swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut before forcing yourself to admit the inevitable. “Just one more time.”
The moment the words left your lips, his smirk deepened, satisfaction darkening his features.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his grip tightening before he crushed his lips against yours, consuming you whole.