EXTRAA

Hey so, have you guys seen Ji Yongs last live? Oh my, I loved it, it was so funny and we got a lot of memes from it!

And most important we got THIS clip: https://x.com/fluttter_/status/1949886910203101290

Basically i sthat Ji was talking and di a gesture that... resembled pretty well a Blowjob hahaha

This fanfic is finished, but, from watching that I got an idea for a now shot, and im reaaaaally lazy to make a story just for that, so here yall go:

TRAFFIC TEASE:

It was an accident.He swore it was.

They were stuck in traffic, barely crawling down the highway, and boredom had started eating away at Jiyong's brain. So when Palomi nudged him with a smirk and said,— "Why don't you go live? People are gonna lose their minds,"he thought, Why not?

Glasses on, hair messy from the wind, lips chapped from the air conditioning — Jiyong hit the button and went live.

The comments flooded in immediately.

"KING IS BACK 😭😭😭""I THOUGHT THIS WAS AN EDIT???""what is happening rn."

At first, it was harmless. Him humming along to whatever was playing, leaning back in the seat, chewing the inside of his cheek. His lips moved.

But them someone mentioned Taeyangs concert.

"what?" he didnt quite understand, and gestured, what, in his mind, was a microphone...

He realised to late how obcene it looked.

And then—

Bzzzt.A text. From him.

Choi Seunghyun:Oh? So you do those things in public now?Can't wait to see you at home....Hands. And. Knees.

Jiyong blinked. Froze.Looked at the screen.Looked at the text.Looked at the angle of his mouth just moments ago on the livestream replay.

"Shit."

Palomi peeked over and immediately burst into laughter."You did not just simulate a blowjob on live."

"I didn't—!" Jiyong cried. "It was—I was triyng to simulate a microphone!"

"Uh-huh."She kept laughing. "Tell that to the millions of people who just had a spiritual awakening."

Jiyong groaned and shut the live. His phone buzzed again.

Choi Seunghyun:I hope you've stretched today.

By the time he walked into the apartment, Jiyong was already planning his apology. Maybe he could pretend he didn't see the text? Maybe he could pull the "I was hacked" card?

Seunghyun was sitting on the couch — legs spread, arms resting lazily along the backrest, looking calm. Too calm.

"Hi," Jiyong said, taking a cautious step forward.

Seunghyun looked up from his phone, eyebrow arching.

"Oh, now you're shy."

Jiyong fumbled to take off his shoes. "Look, I was just playing around, I didn't mean to—"

"Perform oral in front of the internet?"

"I DIDN'T DO THAT!"(He totally did.)

Seunghyun chuckled low in his throat. "You know, I was just watching, thinking: This man's begging for attention."

"I wasn't!"

"You looked right at the camera, Jiyong. You winked."

"I always wink!"

Silence.

Then Seunghyun stood up, slow and deliberate, walking over like a cat sizing up a cornered mouse. He reached Jiyong, tilted his chin up.

"So dramatic. So chaotic. So mine."

Jiyong's breath caught.

"I should punish you," Seunghyun murmured, thumb grazing his lower lip, "but I think you want that."

Jiyong blinked fast. "Maybe."

Seunghyun smirked. "Upstairs. No cameras this time."

They barely make it up the stairs.

Seunghyun walks ahead, slow and measured, knowing full well the way Jiyong's eyes are pinned to the roll of his shoulders, the tension in his back.He's not speaking. He doesn't need to.Not when the rules are already laid bare in his silence.

Jiyong closes the bedroom door behind them and turns around — only to find Seunghyun already sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees.

"Come here."

The command is soft, but Jiyong feels it like a shove.

He walks. Stops between Seunghyun's knees.

"You know what you did, right?" Seunghyun murmurs, tilting his head. "That little stunt in the car? Think I'd miss that?"

"I didn't mean—"

"Ah." Seunghyun raises a hand — not to strike, just to silence. "That wasn't a question."

Jiyong swallows hard.

"On your knees."

The floor is cold against his skin, but he doesn't care. Not when Seunghyun is looking at him like that — all calm fury, all quiet heat.

Seunghyun reaches down and traces his thumb over Jiyong's bottom lip, smearing a little moisture there from where his lips had parted.

"Open."

Jiyong obeys instantly.

Seunghyun undoes his belt, slow and deliberate. Lets the metal clink like punctuation. When he draws himself out, he's already hard, tip glistening with precome. He strokes himself once, twice, right in front of Jiyong's face — then stills.

"You wanna make it up to me?" he murmurs. "Start here."

Jiyong leans in, tongue flicking out tentatively. He presses a kiss to the tip, then licks a slow stripe up the length. When he finally takes him in — slow, careful, reverent — Seunghyun lets out a low groan that shoots straight through him.

"That's it. Good boy." His voice is thick, breathless. "Use that pretty mouth."

Jiyong bobs his head, eyes already glassy, his cheeks hollowing with each pass. He moans around Seunghyun's cock, and it vibrates deliciously.

Seunghyun threads his fingers through his hair and gives it a sharp tug.

"You like this? Getting praised for sucking cock?" His hips rock forward just slightly, enough to make Jiyong choke, just enough. "Maybe I should stream this. Show everyone how committed you really are."

Jiyong moans again, hands slipping down to his own thighs, fingers twitching—

"Ah-ah," Seunghyun growls. His grip tightens. "Where do you think you're going?"

Jiyong freezes. His hand was inches from his own cock.

Seunghyun smirks down at him, breath coming faster now. "Did I say you could touch yourself?"

Jiyong whines, a soft pleading sound muffled by the fullness of his mouth.

"No, baby. You get nothing until I'm done. Got it?"

Jiyong nods. Or tries to.

Seunghyun watches him closely. Every bob of his head, every twitch of his fingers, every little gasp he swallows like he's starving for it.

He tightens his grip in Jiyong's hair and pulls him off with a wet pop.

Jiyong pants, lips shiny and red, spit trailing from the corner of his mouth. His pupils are blown wide, chest heaving.

"Already fucked out?" Seunghyun murmurs, brushing a thumb across his flushed cheek. "And I haven't even started yet."

Jiyong shivers. His hands curl into fists on his thighs, desperate to stay obedient.

Seunghyun smiles lazily. "Let me see that mouth."

Jiyong opens wide again.

"God, look at you," Seunghyun breathes, stroking himself slowly, the tip brushing Jiyong's lower lip. "So desperate. So obedient. Just a little toy for me to use."

He slides in — slow at first, letting Jiyong adjust — and then thrusts forward until he hits the back of his throat.

Jiyong gags, but doesn't pull away. His hands twitch, thighs clenching, but he stays exactly where he's been placed.

"That's it," Seunghyun groans. "Take it. You can do better than that, can't you?"

He starts to move — shallow at first, then deeper, sharper, hips snapping forward with deliberate rhythm. His cock slides over Jiyong's tongue again and again, pushing in until his nose is buried in Seunghyun's skin.

"You're so good like this," he growls, voice breaking with heat. "All mine. Fuck, baby, you were made for this."

Jiyong moans helplessly, tears welling in his eyes. Seunghyun pulls out just long enough for him to breathe — a single gasp — and then pushes right back in.

"Messy little mouth. You love this, huh?" he rasps, threading his fingers into the curls at the back of Jiyong's head. "You love when I fuck your throat like it's mine."

He pets his hair then — gentle, soothing — the contrast so sharp it makes Jiyong tremble. He cradles his head as he rocks into him, voice low and intimate.

"Good boy. Doing so well. Making me feel so fucking good."Another thrust. Another moan."I should've filmed this. This is what you should've gone live with."

Jiyong makes a pitiful noise, part whimper, part plea. His jaw is aching, his knees are burning, and his cock — still untouched — is so hard it hurts.

"You wanna come, don't you?" Seunghyun breathes, hips slowing just slightly. "Bet it's driving you insane. So worked up from sucking me, from choking on my cock like a little pornstar."

Jiyong tries to nod but chokes instead.

Seunghyun pulls him off gently, holding him in place with both hands, thumbs brushing the spit off his chin, the tears from under his eyes. His cock is swollen and slick, still hard, twitching against Jiyong's cheek.

"Look at me," he murmurs.

And Jiyong does.

Eyes red and wet, lips bruised from the stretch, chin glistening with spit. He looks wrecked. He looks perfect.

"Hyung," he whispers, voice raw. "Please... please let me touch myself."

Seunghyun tilts his head, pretending to consider it, brushing a knuckle over Jiyong's cheekbone with maddening gentleness.

"Oh, but why waste so much saliva on begging?" he says, soft and cruel. "You think a few tears and some pretty moans are enough to earn forgiveness?"

Jiyong whimpers, nuzzling into the touch instinctively. "I didn't mean to—"

"I wanted to give everything to you," Seunghyun cuts in, voice colder now. "I waited. All day. Had plans for you. And you came home late."A pause. A sharp, dark smile."And then you did that little performance on live."

"There was traffic—!" Jiyong pleads, desperate now, hands trembling where they hover near his own thighs. "Hyung, please, I— I didn't mean—"

"Why should I believe you?" Seunghyun growls, grabbing him by the jaw, squeezing just enough to make Jiyong gasp. "Hm? Why should I let you have anything right now?"

Jiyong's chest rises and falls in frantic little bursts. "Please... Oppa."

Everything in Seunghyun goes still.

Jiyong seems to realize it instantly — the sharp inhale, the sudden silence.

"...Oppa," he whispers again, like a prayer.

And Seunghyun snaps.

His hand tightens in Jiyong's hair and he yanks him up off his knees like he weighs nothing, throwing him back onto the bed in one motion. Jiyong yelps at the impact, but doesn't stop him — can't — not when Seunghyun is on him in a second, caging him in with his body, mouth pressed to his ear.

"You don't get to use that fucking word unless you mean it," he growls. "Say it again."

Jiyong shivers beneath him. "Oppa..."

Seunghyun growls and grabs his wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand. With the other, he reaches down and finally wraps his fingers around Jiyong's aching cock.

"Is this what you wanted?" he spits. "To get me worked up? To make me jealous? To make me ruin you?"

Jiyong sobs, nodding frantically. "Yes— yes, I wanted— I want—"

"You're gonna come when I say," Seunghyun hisses, stroking him slow and brutal, never letting him thrust up into it. "You're gonna thank me for it. You're gonna say thank you, Oppa, while you come all over yourself like the filthy little thing you are."

Jiyong's body arches off the bed, muscles trembling, legs splayed wide, breath ragged. "Please, Oppa— please, let me—"

"Not yet."

Another squeeze. Another slow drag of his fist.

"Beg prettier."

Jiyong's voice breaks. "Please, Oppa— please let me come, I've been good, I'll be so good, I swear, I'll do anything, I'll never tease you again, please, please—"

And Seunghyun slaps his cock.

Just once. Light. Just enough to make Jiyong cry out and twitch.

"You'll come when I let you," he growls. "And not a fucking second before."

Jiyong is practically sobbing now, body a trembling mess.

His hands curl helplessly against the sheets where Seunghyun still has his wrists pinned. He's gasping, whining, blinking through the blur of tears and lust.

And Seunghyun's not done with him.

Not even close.

He shifts down slowly, pressing open-mouthed kisses down Jiyong's neck, his chest, until he reaches a flushed, sensitive nipple. He doesn't hesitate — just takes it into his mouth and sucks hard.

Jiyong shrieks.

His back arches clean off the bed as Seunghyun bites, then soothes the swollen bud with a swirl of his tongue, only to switch to the other side and do it all again.

"You're so responsive," Seunghyun murmurs against his skin, voice thick with desire. "Like you've never been touched before. Like this is the first time anyone's ever made you feel good."

Jiyong moans through gritted teeth, his hips rolling restlessly. He lifts one knee, trying to find some friction — anything — and when his thigh brushes up against the front of Seunghyun—

—grinds against his cock.

Seunghyun freezes. A sharp inhale. Then a low, dangerous groan tears from his throat.

Jiyong does it again, leg rubbing higher, pressing the muscle of his thigh right between Seunghyun's legs. Desperate. Begging without words.

"Oh, fuck," Seunghyun gasps. "You little—"

He presses his hips down, grinding into Jiyong's thigh this time, his cock dragging hard against him.

"You think I'm gonna let you tease me again?" he growls, leaning in to nip at the curve of Jiyong's jaw. "After everything? Hm?"

"I—I didn't mean to," Jiyong chokes, but he's smiling, dazed and dizzy and a little bratty even now.

Seunghyun snarls and sits up cock freed — flushed and leaking, painfully hard from all the teasing. He fists it once, hissing through his teeth, then leans over Jiyong again.

"On your knees," he snaps.

Jiyong, still trembling, obeys instantly. He barely has the strength to sit up, but he pushes up onto shaking arms and kneels between the sheets, chest heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, lips wet and parted.

Seunghyun kneels behind him, cock in hand, rubbing the slick head between Jiyong's thighs. He doesn't press in — not yet — just lets it drag, letting Jiyong feel how close he is.

"You ready to take it?" Seunghyun rasps, voice wrecked. "Or you gonna cry some more first?"

"Please," Jiyong whimpers, body already rocking back. "I need you, Oppa. Please fuck me."

And that — that word again, so broken and sweet — is what snaps the last thread of control.

Seunghyun grabs his hips, yanks him back, and plunges in hard.

Jiyong screams.

His arms give out, collapsing into the mattress as Seunghyun buries himself balls-deep in one thrust. He's still so sensitive — raw from the orgasm he was barely allowed — and now Seunghyun's thick cock is stretching him open again, dragging along every nerve-ending like it's meant to ruin him.

"Fuck," Seunghyun pants, folding over him, chest pressed to his back. "You feel— so fucking good. I could live inside you."

Jiyong whimpers into the sheets, fingers clawing at the bed as Seunghyun pulls out just enough to thrust again. And again. And again.Each snap of his hips is brutal, precise, dragging helpless sounds out of Jiyong's throat.

"You wanted this, huh?" Seunghyun snarls, biting at Jiyong's shoulder. "Putting on a show in traffic, acting like a slut in front of everyone— but this," he thrusts in hard, "this is the real you."

Jiyong sobs.

"Yes— yes, Oppa, I'm yours, I'm yours—"

Seunghyun wraps a hand around his throat, not squeezing, just holding, feeling the flutter of Jiyong's pulse race against his palm.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours— fuck, I'm yours, please— I can't—"

"Then fucking come for me."

Seunghyun slips his hand under Jiyong, wraps it around his already overstimulated cock, and jerks him in time with his thrusts — hard, fast, unrelenting.

Jiyong thrashes.

"Oppa— Oppa, please— I'm— I'm gonna—!"

"Then give it to me," Seunghyun growls. "Make a mess. Show me who you belong to."

And Jiyong shatters.

He comes with a scream, full-body trembling, hips jerking forward into Seunghyun's fist even as Seunghyun keeps pounding into him from behind. His thighs shake violently, arms limp, face wet with tears and sweat and spit.

Seunghyun's not far behind.

The feeling of Jiyong clenching around him, sobbing through pleasure so intense it borders on pain— it sends him over the edge.

He lets out a deep, animalistic groan, slams in one final time, and comes, cock twitching deep inside Jiyong as his hips stutter, jerking through wave after wave of ecstasy. His whole body locks up, fingers digging into Jiyong's hips hard enough to leave bruises.

They collapse.

Seunghyun falls forward, chest flush to Jiyong's back, panting like he's just run a marathon. His cock throbs inside him, both of them shaking, soaked in sweat, ruined and utterly spent.

He stays there, motionless, just breathing. Listening to Jiyong's heartbeat.

Jiyong's fingers twitch. His voice is barely audible.

"...Oppa."

Seunghyun kisses the back of his neck. "Shhh. I've got you."

He eases out slowly — careful, gentle — and Jiyong lets out a broken little whimper at the loss.

"Shh, I know. I know," Seunghyun whispers, already reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. He cleans them both up as best he can, then pulls the sheets up around Jiyong's shivering body and wraps him in his arms.

Jiyong burrows into his chest like it's instinct.

"Sorry," he mumbles, voice hoarse. "Didn't mean to be late. Didn't mean to tease."

Seunghyun smiles, presses a kiss to his temple. "Yes, you did."

"...Okay yeah. I did."

They both laugh, breathless.

"Next time you go live," Seunghyun murmurs, lips brushing Jiyong's cheek, "you better start with a warning. Because if I see that mouth again and I'm not in the room, I will find you. And I will fuck the attitude out of you in public."

Jiyong shivers. "...Can we pretend I didn't just come twice from that sentence alone?"

"No," Seunghyun grins. "But I'll let you recover first."

He pulls him closer, strokes his sweat-damp hair, and lets the silence settle — warm, heavy, and full of everything unsaid.

They fall asleep tangled together, ruined and safe.