#iclimbjungwon

he takes you to the aquarium and a nice dinner and tries to not notice when you clench your thighs tighter under the table or start digging crescents onto his bicep where you hold him, soothing your thighs with a hand that's already been resting there or a soft kiss at your temple while you walk under the blue tunnel.

he rewards you with small bursts of the lower setting; when you finish your food, when you give small fun facts about the fish that you randomly remember from scrolling through the internet–or even just for giving him one of your sweet smiles. jungwon takes note of every twitch, the way your eyes glance around as if people will know just from the tiny hitch in your breath. tries not to smirk too big when you give him a tiny whine by the angelfish display.

and even though he tries not to punish you too much—jungwon finds that you're more of a brat under the threat of stronger pulses, doesn't bother hiding behind false pretense when you oh so obviously try to coax a reaction out of him. rushing him through one of the exhibits, sitting across from him instead of beside, holding yourself back from ordering your favourite food, or–god forbid–pouting at him because the restaurant didn't have dessert.

that's really what makes him push you to the very edge, smiling at your eyes widening and how quick you are to bite your lip, silencing the squeal that would've escaped you. his hand drifts towards your core, casually, as if you two weren't in a very public, very fancy restaurant, pushing the little bullet where it's nestled between your folds, grazing it towards your clit and chuckling when you bury your face into his shoulder. underneath the table, his one hand works itself within your skirt, fingers pressing every so slightly into your wetness through your underwear, his other playing with the settings to push you closer and closer to ruin. above, you two look like lovebirds who can't get enough of each other—you, leaned into jungwon's shoulder, hair covering your face and the hot flush of red rising from your neck, one hand pressed against his chest and the other holding his bicep, soft whines leaking through uneven breathing as jungwon presses kisses to your forehead, your temple, leaving the setting on high to cradle your chin and sealing your lips together when he feels the telltale clenching of your fluttering hole, the stuttering of your breath, and the instinctive press of your tits against his arm like you're trying to rub yourself against him (you are).