nsfw. minors dni.
c/w: fem!reader / sub!ji-yong. glimpses of domestic life. age gap. praise. unprotected sex. soft smut.
a/n: typed w one hand tbh
ji-yong always found himself under you during sex. that’s just how he liked it best.
he’s a busy man, and he’s not young anymore either. after a long day at work, he just wants to kick his feet up and let you take care of him. and that’s fine by you! you’ve got youthful energy to spend, and there’s not many sights as precious as the king of kpop himself sprawled out beneath you, completely at your mercy.
he finally has the rare chance of some free time with you— a breather amongst his packed schedule during his comeback. actually managing to get him out of bed on his days off was a rarity. but today he’s eager to take you out, dedicate a day to you; make-up for how work’s been demanding most of his focus. you shake your head when he pulls out his black card, but he’s not taking no for an answer.
later that day you found yourselves tangled on the couch in a hot flurry of kisses. he couldn’t keep his hands to himself while you were out; you had to tell him off for being so touchy in public, cameras could be anywhere.
pinning you down was the first thing on his mind once you were back home. your hands are lost in his hair, his are snaked under your top. his knee’s hiked up and digging into your core, and he mumbles a cuss as you rock yourself on his leg. you figure, since you’re already here, you may as well ask:
“ji, baby. would you be on top?”
he’s taken aback. for a beat, he hums and tosses the idea over. it’s certainly been a while since he’s had the energy to take the reins of your intimacy. the imagery of you beneath him gets ji-yong hot— sending a pulse straight to his dick. then, he kisses you with such force that your head cranes back. he’s hungry and his tongue’s on yours and he’s grinding down into your core with a newfound vigour.
you’re fully committed: you’re biting your lip, arching your back. you even encourage him with soft mewls as he sucks at your neck. he’s already panting at the sight of you. you slide a hand between your bodies to palm at him, finding his trousers damp with his arousal. ji-yong trembles over with a moan. on instinct, he’s keeling over for you to take control.
your mouth’s hot on his ear as whine how bad you need him. with that, he practically rips off your bottoms, and is too impatient to tug his own all the way off as they bunch at his knees.
your hand is atop his as he guides himself in, his face scrunching as he fills you to the hilt. he stays there for a beat— dick twitching inside of you. you hum:
“fuck me, hun.”
and he obeys. ji-yong sets a gruelling pace, snapping his hips in and out of you like crazy. you egg him on by letting moans slip from your mouth, and he has to bite his lip to muffle his own. you guide his hands all over your body: fondling your breast, squeezing your neck, even tilting your own hips up so each of his thrusts hit the sweet spot.
even though he’s on top, you’re directing ji-yong through his actions: “kiss my neck there again.” “go faster, i can take it.” “put my leg up, honey.” and of course, you reward him with compliments when he follows: “that felt really good, ji.” “you’re doing so well for me baby.”
he was hanging on to your every word. the noises spilling from him were diabolical— he sounded like a pornstar.
a little greedy, you tease him with a few pulses of your core. ji-yong’s thrusts turn shallow before he pauses, dick spasming inside of you. as little whines left his mouth. your hands find his pelvis, coaxing him to move, but his body falls onto yours and pins you against the couch.
he shudders, “w-wait, please..”,
you can feel his muscles flexing on your bare stomach. he’s begging you to not make him cum. he has to screw his eyes shut and focus, else your naked body’s going to teeter him off the edge. he does a quick snap of his hips— but has to immediately pull out and suck in a breath between his teeth. you soothe him, caressing his sides and pressing reassuring kisses to his nape. he frowns at himself. he’s not usually so quick..
“i want it, ji. c’mon,”
he huffs out a sheepish laugh. “if you couldn’t tell..”
his dick twitches on time. something cruel stirs in you; you snatch his hips and pull him to thrust back into you. his hands fumble in an attempt to restrain you, and he’s out of breaths to say it with words. you’re undeterred, leading him in and out for your own pleasure, and ji-yong can’t help but take it as you grind onto him. his head’s buried into your shoulder, your ear soaking up all of his cries.
“if you keep, ah,.. i can’t—”
“go on, hun.”
ji-yong tried to move his own hips between your control. he’s a whimpering mess as he cums, laying lifeless on-top of you as warm ropes shoot inside of you. you hum, pleased with him, drawing lines over his back muscles.
“ah, i don’t have the back for this.”
that made you chuckle. “you made me feel so good, baby.”
he groans, disagreeing about his performance.
“no, i’m sorry. you didn’t cum,” he pressed his sweaty forehead into your neck. “sorry, just give me a minute and i’ll, yeah..”
his voice was hoarse, still breathless from his orgasm. but he snakes a shaky palm to your cunt and fidgets for your clit.
you giggle, moving his hand off of you with a reassuring peck. he had no idea you were about to roll over and ride him till you came.
a looming scandal results in your resignation. as you begin a future seperate from ji-yong, it seems fate has other ideas.
⋆˙⟡ ibelongiiu part two 𓂃
c/w: fem!reader x sub!jiyong. angst | smut. age gap. conflict. miscommunication. breakup. jealousy. yearning. cheating. nsfw content minors dni
for months, you existed in a dream. you and ji-yong slipped into a rhythm, stealing moments together whenever or wherever possible.
it was exhilarating at first: a routine just between you two.
winking at each other across rooms, lingering touches during fittings. sneaking off to soundproof studios. never showing up to events together, but texting him when you’re ready to go.
soft laughter over late-night takeout in the comfort of his apartment. cuddling on the couch with the cats while you share a bottle of floral wine. sweet whispers in the sheets, waking up tangled in each other’s limbs.
on weekdays you were g-dragon and his stylist. on weekends you were ji-yong and his lover.
and in the quiet sanctuary of his music, you were his muse.
one particular night, you were dozing off with your head in ji-yong’s lap. he had one hand gently stroking your hair, the other scribbling away in his notebook. you listened to him softly hum for a while before you asked what he was working on.
ji-yong lulled you to sleep by singing the lyrics he’d been drafting. it was a stark contrast to ‘power’: the single he was planning to announce his comeback with later this year. this one was intimate— it’s all you.
“this is just for us,” he muttered after the last line.
he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you believed him.
in the quiet, it’s easy to forget that you weren’t really free.
ji-yong didn’t want to have to keep his love for you confined within walls. he wants to hold your hand out in broad daylight, to treat you to haute cuisine, to kiss you amongst a crowd.
he didn’t want being with you to mean constantly looking over his shoulder. and he was getting bolder about it.
“let’s go somewhere,” he murmured one night, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “just us.”
you sighed. “ji, you know we can’t.”
he took your hand in his— eyes searching. “we could, if you’d let me take you.”
and there was the first crack.
you did what you could to compromise; wearing his jewellery gifts to work, allowing him to hide a polaroid of you in the back of his phone case.
he finally told his family about you: that he’d been seeing a girl from the industry. ji-yong even showed them the polaroid, and he gushed over how they thought you were gorgeous.
you let him take pride in these little instances of showing you off. because you knew you didn’t have long left.
preparations for his comeback have began gearing up. you’ve been running around all week, ensuring your team’s working as efficiently as possible— alleviating any stress from ji-yong that you can.
you’ve felt a crushing pressure at work; not just from the ensuing stress within the staff, but because this was the most important upcoming event in your boyfriend’s life. if it was less than perfect for him, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.
all eyes are on him in the days leading up to his long-awaited return. and you can’t help but fear that you’re being too reckless; that people notice the way you smile at him, the way he stands closer than necessary.
the anxiety’s eating you from the inside out.
at the start of the day, ji-yong had an assistant grab him two coffees— one that he later handed to you in private.
it was a thoughtless gesture. second nature to him. but you could’ve sworn people were doing double-takes at the cup in your hand, most likely recalling ji-yong having the same one.
by the time a break came, you felt as if there were holes burned into your skin from the amount of eyes on you all day. you holed yourself up in your office to breathe, to scream or cry, whatever.
but it wasn’t long before your door swung open: ji- yong on the other end, smiling softly in relief.
you could still hear people bustling outside the door when he locked it.
you’d been bursting at the seams with anxiety; you finally had a moment to yourself to pop the cap off, and now ji-yong was here.
and when he reached for you, he got the brunt of it.
“you need to stop, ji.”
his hand hesitated in the air. he looked as if you’d slapped him. your stomach twisted.
“i’m sorry,” you sighed. you rubbed your temples, your head banging. “it’s just, people are starting to notice.”
he buried his hands in his pockets, leaning against your desk. his tongue was in his cheek as he regarded you. he was infuriatingly calm.
“what about it?”
you blinked. “are you serious?”
“let them talk.”
you scoffed. “how can you not care? they’re looking at me. they’re putting things together.”
his eyes flicker with something unreadable. “what exactly do you think they’re putting together?”
you let out a frustrated breath, pacing the small space. “they know, ji. how you look at me, how you’re always near me.”
you brought your thumb to your mouth, chewing on the nail while your thoughts raced. “we’re not being careful enough.”
he pushed off the desk, stepping closer. “is that so bad?” his voice was softer now, with something firm underneath. “that i don’t want to treat you like just another one of the staff?”
you swallowed hard as he approached. his words were gentle, but in his demeanour you could tell there was something he was barely containing.
“we can’t risk it.”
“i’m tired of pretending,” he admits, his voice low. “tired of hiding you. i don’t care if people figure out.”
“well i do!” you snapped. “you might be able to survive a scandal, but this is my career, ji. my future.”
his jaw clenched. “and i’m not there in that future?”
you faltered, slumping against the edge of the desk. you gripped onto the edge like it was your only saving grace from falling apart.
you instantly regretted striking that nerve. you knew what he went through in the december scandal. you should’ve bitten your tongue.
you watched as ji-yong’s expression shifted— less frustration, more… hurt.
“that’s not what i meant,” you mumbled. but the damage was done.
ji-yong nodded, pressing his mouth into a firm line. he rolled his shoulders, adjusted his sleeves. his nervous fidgets.
he stares at you for a moment longer. he’s waiting for something, anything.
but you don’t budge.
with a sharp inhale, he’s turning towards the door. you watch his back as he leaves— not sparing you a second glance.
and at the sound of the door slamming shut, your chest is heaving. you can finally let loose. you bite your arm and scream into it.
you joined a few staff in assisting gee eun at a peaceminusone collaboration meeting with a major fashion brand, seated around a sleek conference table at a high-end lounge in gangnam.
you kept to your role quietly: taking notes, observing, blending into the background.
ji-yong was there, too. but his attention was locked on the table discussion. unlike himself, there were no stolen glances, no subtle gestures in your direction. he was focused, professional. unreadable.
you had since made up from the argument in your office. ji-yong found you later that same day, enveloping you in a wordless hug. it spoke more than an apology could.
you haven’t talked about it since. there just hasn’t been time.
the meeting wrapped up smoothing, ending in handshakes and traded bows. you figured that was all, until someone approached you.
an executive from the other brand— tall, sharp suit, radiating confidence. you caught ji-yong’s head turn in your peripheral.
“i don’t think we’ve been introduced, sweetheart.” his voice was smooth.
you gave him a cordial smile. “i joined the styling team at the beginning of this year.”
his lips curled in amusement. the conversation started out harmless— small talk, inquiries about your role. you played along, because it’d reflect poorly on the team if you brushed him off.
“you’ve certainly got an eye for fashion, seeing as you’re here.” he mused. “i could introduce you to the right people.”
you’re about to politely decline, when he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“maybe over dinner?”
the moment the words leave his mouth, your body went rigid.
ji-yong was no longer in your peripheral.
you didn’t have time to think before you felt him— suddenly beside you, his presence unmistakable. and then he did something very stupid.
his arm snakes around your waist, fingers pressing in firm and deliberate. he didn’t even acknowledge the exec, his focus solely on you.
“we’re all done here,” ji-yong’s voice was smooth on the surface, but you recognised something simmering beneath it.
he spares the exec a glance with a smile so thin it’s practically a sneer. you felt his grip tighten— territorial. jealous.
the air shifted.
gee eun shot you both a sharp look. someone clears their throat. you quickly redirected the conversation, desperate for the moment to smooth over.
but ji-yong had already struck the match. heads had turned the moment he put his hands on you. conversations continued, but you noticed the barely concealed whispers underneath. and now his stunt was going to blow up in your faces.
the following morning, you’re startled awake to your phone buzzing at your ear.
you roll over and ignore the vibration— but then comes another. and another. barely a second between each one. you groan, blindly reaching for your phone.
the second you catch a glimpse of the screen, your heart sinks.
frantic texts, missed calls, urgent voicemails. you sit up so fast your head spins. you swipe through the notifications, reading off the names of coworkers, names you didn’t even recognise— as well as some of ji-yong’s personal staff. it’s all screaming the same thing: shit’s hit the fan.
[gee eun] call me now.
[jae] what the hell happened yesterday?
[unknown number] is it true? are you the girl?
your finger’s trembling as you scroll, trying to piece it together. where had it gone wrong?
[ji <3] baby please pick up
your stomachs twists.
you toss your phone across the bed, throwing your head into your hands. you pull at your scalp. you wanted to scream.
they knew.
the secret’s out, and people knew.
whispers had spread like wildfire— nothing concrete, just rumours passed from one person to the next, warping with every retelling.
it hadn’t reached the press yet, though it was only a matter of time. only a handful of people had a rough idea of your actual identity. and then it started spinning out of control.
someone showed up to your mother’s workplace, fishing for details. your phone was flooded with messages from strangers— some curious, some vicious. (how the fuck did they even get your number?)
ji-yong’s publicists were scrambling to get ahead of it, debating whether to release a statement to douse the flames. but he refused to act without talking to you first.
he was sick of playing the media’s game— of watching his life be twisted into headlines. no more hiding, no more damage control. this upcoming era of his career would be the rawest the world has seen him. if people are going to know who you are, it’ll be on his terms.
but you’ve had time to reflect.
the fact was, you worked under him. while he can publicly reveal that he has a girlfriend, the people around you will never see it as love. if the truth got out, which it always did— they’d say you blackmailed him, that he must’ve taken advantage of you.
you haven’t even started your career, and already, this was burying you.
you can’t gamble your future by being an idol’s dirty secret. you’ve got more ahead of you in life than that.
so you make the choice he refuses to. the one that makes sense, the one that his team don’t want to say out loud.
you called gee eun personally to resign from your position.
you ended up staying on the phone for hours, discussing where you’re headed next and how she can support you. you got vulnerable in speaking to her about your relationship with ji-yong.
she’d known, of course— the staff closest to him knew more than they were letting on.
because it’s not like you were really harming anyone; ji-yong had been showing up to work with stars in his eyes since you started seeing each other. but this wasn’t just a matter of a select group of people knowing and choosing to keep the secret anymore.
once that phone call with her ended, you stayed up all night sobbing. you wished you could’ve found him under different circumstances— maybe later in life, once you’d established yourself in the industry, and you were meeting on a similar level of status.
you were being ripped apart by conflicting emotions. you didn’t want to hurt him more than this, you didn’t want to lose what’s blossomed between you two.
but as bad as this situation already was, it could have been so much worse. you shudder at the thought of being the reason he has another public scandal. a blow like that to his image, just before the comeback he’s been working so hard for.
so you cut yourself loose.
you text ji-yong that it’s over, and block him before you can receive a reply. whatever comes of this next is none of your business.
the months since have been kind to you.
november found you in hong kong, standing beneath the soft glow of chandeliers at a chanel fashion show.
you’ve built something new for yourself— landed a position at a prestigious fashion company, climbed the ranks faster than expected (a glowing recommendation from gee eun certainly didn’t hurt).
you’re here on behalf of your company as a professional in your own right. no longer just someone’s assistant.
and most importantly, you’ve moved on.
you’ve dodged every mention of ji-yong since his ‘power’ comeback. no headlines, no interviews, not even a glimpse of his face in passing.
you’ve been strict to yourself in closing that chapter of your life. you grieved what you had. you accepted what it was.
besides; now you’ve got a new job, a new city, a new man. there was no reason to look back.
a sudden flurry of camera flashes has your head turning.
despite yourself, your heart leaps at the sight of him.
he walks in as g-dragon: draped in designer, surrounded by cameras and admirers. his presence is magnetic as ever— the kind that turns heads effortlessly. yours included, despite your better judgement.
your turn away before his eyes can find yours.
the event’s grand enough that avoiding him is easy at first. you mingle, engage in polite conversation, laugh when necessary. but whenever he drifted too close— once you could hear the familiar pitch of his voice— you’d pivot. step into another circle, pretend he isn’t there. hope your presence isn’t known to him.
but it was. how could it not be?
the first time your eyes met across the room, it’s fleeting; a brief flicker of recognition before you glanced away.
the second time, you make a statement of turning your back.
and by the third, there was no mistaking it— he was watching you.
the smile behind your champagne glass was fragile. your fingers around it felt clammy. you keep your voice still in conversation, but a part of you was hyper-aware of every shift in the room, every movement he made.
and then, as the show wrapped up and the evening died down— ji-yong had found his opening.
he slipped into your space so seamlessly, you didn’t even realise your guard was down. one moment you’re chatting with an associate, and by the next he’s there.
you freeze up at the sound of his voice as he apologises for interrupting.
“mind if i steal her away?”
a smug grin curves the corner of his mouth as your associate pardons themselves, leaving you to ji-yong.
you should walk away. really. but you know that despite your best efforts to distance yourself from him, tonight was always going to end with ji-yong catching up.
he says your name, voice quieter than expected.
“you look..” he starts, then swallows. his eyes drift across your body. “you look beautiful.”
you keep your gaze ahead. “thank you.”
he huffs out a laugh— short, humourless. he ruffles the hair at the back of his head. “that’s it, then?”
you finally glance at him. “what are you doing, ji-yong? i’m working.”
he shifts slightly. he’s fidgety with his hands, like he does when he’s unsure of himself.
“just wanted to see you.” he shrugs. “it’s been a while.”
you nod, expressionless.
he clears his throat. “can we talk about it?”
you hum, making a show of scanning the room. you were surrounded by camera flashes, models, designers. executives sipping wine just a few feet away.
“now? go on then.”
his jaw hardens. “i’d prefer some place quieter.”
“i’m staying here.” your voice is firm.
quiet places meant making bad decisions, and one thing leading to another. you both know how it goes.
he sighs. his features soften. “where did you go?”
“i moved on, ji.”
the nickname slips naturally. his eyes flicker with something imperceptible. you step back slightly, subconsciously trying to distance yourself again. it’s subtle, but he notices. of course he does.
“i wasn’t trying to force you..” he says quietly. “i just wanted.. i wanted to be honest. with you.”
“i still wanted a career.” it comes out bluntly before you can stop yourself.
ji-yong nods slowly, his tongue pressing into his cheek. he’s trying to will himself to stay patient. to not get upset.
“i’m sorry.” your voice is so hushed, the words barely exist. “i didn’t want to leave.”
for a moment, you both stand there in the glow of the event, searching in each other’s eyes. you could almost forget you’re surrounded by people.
ji-yong takes a step closer. just one. he lifts his hand slightly— hesitant, wary— then reaches to smooth his thumb over your cheek. it’s a callback to the encounter that started it all. and for half of a second, you lose yourself in the reminiscence; the familiar warmth of his touch.
but then your eyes widen. he’s far too close. this is far too intimate. there’s too many eyes.
“don’t,” you whisper sharply, lips barely moving.
but it’s already done. you take a step back when you notice a few heads turn.
ji-yong’s hand falls to his side, fingers curling into a loose fist. there’s a glimmer of something behind his eyes— hurt, maybe. regret.
“yeah.” he says, almost to himself. he rolls his shoulders, shakes his arms.
you bite your tongue till it stings. you don’t tell him goodbye; you just give a shallow bow and leave before he can say another word. just like you did before.
back at your hotel suite, you kick off your heels and bee-line to the minibar.
you tell yourself you’re just winding down from the evening as you crack open a bottle of red wine; but you’re only lying.
the second the liquid warms your throat in a hasty gulp, you’re grabbing your phone. against your better judgment, your thumb finds its way to the blocked list, hovering over ji-yong’s contact.
you never actually deleted his number. you liked to think you slammed that door and locked it, tossing away the key. but you only hid it out of sight. his name even still had the little heart next to it.
it’s less pathetic than drinking by yourself. it’s just familiar company, it can’t hurt. yes he was your ex, and yes he also happened to be your former boss. that’s not to mention how horrible of an idea this was.
but you reason with yourself (or perhaps it’s the alcohol talking): you’re grownups. it’s just catching up over a drink, maybe even some closure. that was all.
you bite the bullet and text him.
[you] you around?
his reply is near instant.
[ji <3] where are you?
and just like that, he’s on his way to your hotel address without another question.
there’s a knock at your door twenty minutes later.
you skull the rest of your glass— even though the wine hadn’t been any help with easing your racing heart.
you glance at the mirror as you set your drink down: smoothing over your dress, brushing flyaways from your face. shame grips you as your reflection stares back. you shouldn’t care what he thinks of you, but suddenly you want to look composed. like inviting him to your hotel room didn’t even phase you.
you open the door.
ji-yong’s standing there with a hoodie thrown over his head and a cap pulled low. he gives you a small, almost uncertain, smile.
“hey.”
you step back to let him in without a word.
he pulls off his cap, raking a hand through his hair while you shut the door. you lean against it— like the room’s suddenly too small.
ji-yong scans over your room, eyes landing on the wine bottle on the nightstand. he scoffs a laugh.
“couldn’t sleep?”
“it doesn’t come easy to me, away from home.”
“i know.”
you look at him then, and you both smile.
it’s a reminder; you can act like strangers all you want, but he still knows you inside and out.
you move to refill your glass. ji-yong’s eyes follow as you pass by him.
for a moment, the only sound is the wine pouring into your glass. you cross the room to a small table and chairs seated by the floor-length window. ji-yong trails behind.
silence stretches as you both sit. you turn your attention to the city below: hong kong glimmers with lights, still bustling this late at night.
you glance back at ji-yong to find him only looking at you. he smiles. it’s warm, familiar. you missed it.
“you look good,” he says eventually, careful. “better than the last time we met.”
you don’t reply, instead raising the glass to your lips. there’s a tension— but not the angry kind. it’s loaded. you watch ji-yong’s brows raise as you take a hearty gulp of the red liquid.
“i’ve been a busy woman.”
“i’ve heard,” his voice perks up. “the styling team told me what you’ve been up to. said you’ve been killing it.”
you nod. “i’ve worked hard.”
“i never doubted you.”
you half-smile, swirling the glass in your hand. the weight of his gaze has been crushing what little resolve you had left. his eyes hadn’t left you since he got here.
“i noticed you ignored me tonight. twice.”
you raise a brow. “i only did it the second time, actually.”
that makes him chuckle. “right.”
you shift in your seat. the noise made your stomach flutter.
“i didn’t invite you over to rehash all—” you wave your hand at the space between you, “—this.”
“i know,” his voice is low. “but are we just pretending that you reaching out doesn’t mean something?”
“it meant i didn’t want to drink alone tonight,” you say, harsher than intended. “that’s it.”
he nods. you can hear him cracking his knuckles under the table, fidgeting with his fingers. “i can live with that.”
you both sit with it. the flicker of the bedside lamp casted a shadow across his jawline. his eyes are tired. he looks older, somewhat softer.
you offer your glass to ji-yong. he takes it with a quiet “thanks”, and you let go before his fingers can touch yours.
neither of you break eye contact as he downs the wine, sipping from where your lips did. you stand with a sudden need for distance as you walk to the window.
you don’t know if it’s just the alcohol warming you up, making your blood buzz. and you don’t know if it’s also what compels you to speak:
“i did love you then, ji.” you sigh. “i couldn’t ruin this for you. i had to go.”
warily, your eyes drift to ji-yong’s reflection in the glass. his jaw’s hard as he stares off into the wall.
“i ruined it.” he says finally. “i was selfish.”
you hear the soft sound of his glass being set down, then footsteps. and then his warmth behind you.
he’s close, but not touching. not yet.
he murmurs your name. “we don’t have to do this. i just… i’ve missed you.”
you glance at his reflection behind you. his eyes are low, trailing over your body. you turn to face him.
there’s a million thoughts racing in your head. you should tell him to leave, you should tell him that’s it’s over. you should close the distance and see what happens next.
“bad idea right?” he mumbles.
a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, recalling what you told him before your first kiss. your eyes are trained on his lips. he notices, and they part with a sigh. you can hear how much he’s forcing himself to behave.
you’re not sure who starts it. it happens all at once, like something takes over you both. it’s instantly irrelevant who kissed first once your lips meet— your bodies melding together.
you’re quick to part his lips, and ji-yong groans onto your tongue. his hands come to cradle your face like you’ll vanish again if he doesn’t hold you. yours fist in the fabric of his hoodie.
your kisses are hungry, his are desperate. you’re panting into each other’s mouths. you tug him closer, rolling your hips onto his growing erection. ji-yong whispers your name like a plea.
his hands snake around your body like it’s second nature. you gasp as he grabs the underside of your thighs, his mouth trailing down your chin and to your neck.
you pull him in again to feel the imprint of his dick press against you. ji-yong sighs a moan before his lips close around your skin.
before he can suck a mark onto your skin, you push him.
“i’m seeing somebody,” you blurt.
ji-yong freezes. you feel a shallow breath fan your face. you can’t bear to meet his eyes, but eventually, you do.
his expression shifts. it’s not anger, or pain. it’s something you can’t read. the corner of his lip twitches.
then, calmly, he says: “then we didn’t do anything.”
you blink at him. his hands hadn’t left your body— but your silence had his grip loosening. you reached for the hem of his hoodie, balling it in your fist.
“you were never here.”
ji-yong’s jaw clenches, eyes darting all over your face. it’s a pact of silence; whatever happens tonight doesn’t leave this room.
with that, your lips come crashing onto his.
you’ve got a newfound determination. he was never here, right? nothing happened. so you want to get it all out of your system.
you’re eager with sliding your hand down, cupping his arousal in your palm. ji-yong’s hissing into your mouth, holding onto you like he’ll keel over.
kissing each other still came so naturally. kissing him was like breathing. and you pressed together impossibly close like you’re one body.
your palm’s hot as you rub over him through his pants. every little noise from him had you pushing your tongue further into his mouth, tightening your grip around his dick.
ji-yong was careful with his actions. he didn’t want to push his luck— finding out the hard way if you didn’t want him touching you. he was yours to take.
so he leaned against you, hands twitching on your waist as you palmed him. you were getting frustrated. there were so many things you wanted to get done, and chances are, he wouldn’t last through half of it. not when it’s been this long.
you cuss as your hand catches on a damp spot of pre-cum on his pants. ji-yong’s practically whining down your throat. for all you know he’s already close. you decide then that anything else could wait— you wanted the main event now.
you’re backing ji-yong into your bed while your hands fumble with his zipper. once the back of his knees bump the mattress, you shove him onto it. he’s staring up at you in awe: face flushed with pink, his hair ruffled every which way. you don’t waste a second in straddling him.
you tug at his hoodie, and he lifts himself to let you pull it off— revealing a tank top underneath.
your gaze lingers on his tattoos. he often layers his outfits, so it was a rarity to see any. particularly the ones inked over his torso.
it’s made the sight of his tats intimate, since you’re the only one who sees them when you’re getting his clothes off.
you’re too impatient to get the rest of his clothes off, plus your own dress. you settle on pushing his shirt over his chest, and hiking the hem of your dress up your thighs.
then, you turn your attention to ji-yong’s pants. the flyer’s open from when you unzipped them— and you can see how he’s straining against the fabric of his boxers.
his dick springs free as you pull down his pants and boxers together. you bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of him this hard for you.
you pull your panties to the side, taking ji-yong’s wrists in your hands. he stares up at you, mouthed parted in breaths as you sit up on your knees and line your entrance up with him.
you pin his arms to the mattress on either side of his head, while your heat prods at his leaking tip. you swallow a shaky whimper from ji-yong as you kiss him.
his hips twitch with the slightest buck before he restrains himself. in response, you drop onto him.
ji-yong’s mouth falls open in a moan. you don’t waste another moment in anchoring your weight, setting a hurried pace as you ride him.
it’s selfish how you’re fucking him; every rock of your hips has his dick hitting you in the sweet spot. he was barely moving in and out of you.
still, your heat around his dick had whines falling shamelessly from ji-yong’s mouth.
his arms were straining against your grip, but you kept them pressed on the bed. you could tell he wants to give back to you. but you’re focused on getting there on your own first— then you’ll be mellowed out, and it can be his turn.
you didn’t want him to touch you, either. ji-yong turns sex into an act of love with how he dotes on you: caressing your body, brushing his fingers through your hair.
if this got too intimate, you’d have second thoughts about it being the last time.
so you kept fucking him when he came before you did. you kept his back pinned against the sheets, his hands begging to be out of your grip.
you fucked him until you had enough. but even when you rolled off of him, hazy post-orgasm— ji-yong was crawling between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit. he was long past exhausted; but every moan he got from you only egged him on.
the night proved to be a long one.
you laid bare against each other amongst the tangled blankets. ji-yong’s fingers absently traced circles on your skin, nodding to sleep on your shoulder as you stared at the ceiling.
the room’s quiet for the first time in hours, but your mind was far from it.
the morning will come soon, sunlight pouring through the window being a glaring reminder of the reality outside that you’d been ignoring.
what then? a quiet goodbye? awkward silence? do you stay to wait for him or slip out first?
you swallow the lump rising in your throat.
your boyfriend’s face flashes in your head. he’s good to you— above doing something like this; curling up with the ex you swore you’d moved on from.
you tell yourself it’s just a one-time lapse. you need that peace of mind if you want to get any sleep.
you try not to linger on the thought of how easy it was to fall back into him. how right it still felt— and how wrong that is.
a/n: it’s hereee, i’ve been unexpectedly busy so it took longer than i wanted to write this. i’m going on a holiday so part 3 (the final!) will be out once i’m back. again, thank you for reading this far ♡
who knew that working as an idol’s stylist meant you’d be concealing an affair and the muse for his upcoming album.
⋆˙⟡ ibelongiiu part one 𓂃
c/w: fem!reader x sub!jiyong. fluff | smut. age gap. power imbalance. slowburn. yearning. sneaking around. (not-so) casual relationship. nsfw content minors dni
since the first time you met, ji-yong held a certain fondness for you. you were a fresh face in his staff, joining at the start of the year through connections with his long-term stylist gee eun.
she’d scouted your talent and personally requested you to work with her team— despite your lack of formal experience in the star-studded world of idols.
and you managed to hold your own while working alongside the stylists who’d been dressing him for decades.
it was such a drastic leap from your former position as a fashion intern; only in your early twenties, and you were getting paid to curate outfits for the king of kpop’s public appearances.
you were well aware of how volatile this industry could be. ji-yong’s december scandal was proof of it. you had tunnel vision on your career: you didn’t need attention or to climb in status. you just wanted to do your job and do it well.
which, ironically, is what caught ji-yong’s eye.
from your first day you radiated an air of confidence. you had something special to land you here and you knew it.
you were easy to talk to: never trying too hard to impress him, never pushing for attention. simple, mundane conversations with you were a comfort.
you never spoke to him like he was g-dragon, either. you laughed at his stupid jokes. you saved work-talk for later when you noticed he was nodding off. you didn’t hesitate to call him out on being a diva, either; snappy during fittings, picky with outfit options.
(which, admittedly, was often.. but he respects someone who doesn’t shy at telling him off.)
he liked hearing you laugh too. it wasn’t like the polished, practiced laughter he was used to hearing from idols and other public figures— the kind that could come with ulterior motives.
yours was real. unpretentious. your smile was infectious. and yeah, there was the fact that he found you gorgeous.
it wasn’t exactly a revelation; who wouldn’t think the same? that’s all it was, just passing admiration.
at least he told himself so.
until one night, you were invited as part of a handful of staff to accompany ji-yong at a formal dinner.
ji-yong gravitated to the seat next to the one you’d already claimed in the car. and during the trip there, there wasn’t a singular second of a silence.
talking to you felt so natural. your humour bounced off each other’s, topics and stories flowed from one to the other. he almost wished the car wouldn’t reach its destination if it meant he could learn everything there is to know about you.
but inevitably it did. he turned to you as he adjusted his blazer, asking in a playful tone if he looked good enough for the cameras.
you beamed that smile at him; hand reaching out to straighten his tie, smoothen the lapel. but then your face drops with a frown.
ji-yong’s breath catches in his throat before he can ask what was wrong— as you reach up and lightly thread your fingers through the front of his hair, fixing a stray strand that had fallen over his forehead.
you tucked it back into place while absentmindedly biting your lip in concentration, completely unfazed by the fact you were touching him so casually, so intimately.
and then you were gone.
the door opened on your side, and you moved on like it was nothing. you’d taken his breath with him. ji-yong sat there for a second too long, the crowd outside hollering for him to step outside.
what the hell just happened?
it’s not like he hasn’t been touched before. he’s got people fussing over him every day— hands all over his body from stylist’s fixing up his clothes and hair, dabbing make-up at his face. it was routine.
but that? that was all you. you didn’t do it because it was part of your job. sure, this was a work-related event, but this car ride had been a conversation purely between you and him. and you’d touched him so softly, without hesitation, like it was second nature to be that close.
and god, he was thinking about it too much.
ji-yong caught himself staring at you from across the sidewalk, watching you laugh at something gee eun said; wondering to himself why you suddenly have his full attention.
from then on, it was excuses in order to be around you— requesting you specifically for fittings, revolving around you during breaks, asking you questions he could easily ask the other stylists.
the rest of the team joke that he has an obvious favourite. and instead of denying it, he laughs it off. no one’s taking it too seriously of course; he’s been in the public eye long enough to learn that dating a girl means putting a spotlight on her.
but it lingers in his mind.
he’s old enough to know better. he should know better. you work under him, and you’re young— what was it, over a decade apart from him?
there’s power dynamics, a scandal waiting to happen, his career to consider. and you of course; whether he was reading too far into your affections. you had a smart head on your shoulders, you wouldn’t cross that line with your boss. he had to stop waiting for that day to come.
you had him slipping back into the mindset of his twenties, convinced his image could win over any woman— which was really a front for how deep he’d fall himself. he’s always been a hopeless romantic. he’s cultivated a career by writing songs about it.
ji-yong thought distance would help.
he told himself it was better this way— extinguish his budding feelings before it turned dangerous. before someone really noticed.
before he acted on them.
at first, you didn’t notice the shift. he’s still himself; still smooth, still teasing, still carrying that effortless charm that people gravitate toward.
it starts small. he no longer snapped his head when he’d hear your voice. he no longer looked for your reaction first when he said a joke. he longer watched your reflection in the mirror, averting his gaze as you glance up, thinking you didn’t catch him.
you caught the way his jaw hardened as you adjusted his collar, and as your hands moved to his torso, his arms stayed rigid as his sides.
he doesn’t make it obvious. but he can tell you picked up on it. where there’d usually be playful teasing and light touches, was just an air of suffocating silence as you fixed up his shirt.
and now you’re looking at him differently. he hadn’t realised how much he missed the way you used to. there’s the faintest uncertainty in your movements, like you’re wondering if you’ve done something wrong. it makes his chest tighten.
you almost asked, why do you look at me like that?
for a week, he’d been dodging eye contact, keeping sentences curt and around you only when necessary. the easy rhythm you’d fallen into was gone, replaced by something unfamiliar that stung.
whatever was happening before, if it was anything, could still be found in his eyes. traces of his affections in the way that he looked at you; which he made an effort to keep to a minimum.
you had no reason to ask, though. he’s your boss. he’s an idol. you’ve no right to expectations for him.
so you swallow down the lump in your throat. the questions burning on your tongue— because what would it matter if he fancied you anyways? it’s not like you’d actually be together. you felt like a schoolgirl.
it’s been a long day, longer than most. he’s exhausted, drained from a packed schedule, and the weight of his own shame hanging over his shoulders.
he’s been irritable all day. snappy with the staff. you barely even glance in his direction anymore. his manager has to pull him to the side to check on him.
then something happens.
a tug at his waist— a sharp snap— and suddenly, his belt is loose, his pants hanging off his hips. the staff near him scramble for a fix; but then you’re there. rushing over, pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.
“i’ve got it,” you murmur. all focus.
you’re close. closer than you’ve been in weeks. your hands are on him without hesitation. the warmth of your touch, the scent of your perfume— it all floods back at once.
ji-yong swallows as you grab the hem of his pants, his jaw tight. he should look away, but he doesn’t. can’t. instead, he’s watching you thread the belt back through the loops; your furrowed brows, your lips softly between your teeth, completely oblivious to what you’re stirring in him.
once you buckle the belt back into place, you check it with a tug, and glance up at ji-yong. your eyes meet.
it was only an instant before you were gone again, but it’s enough. because he realises how much he missed you— in the wedge that he forced between you.
and above all, how wrong it was to treat you like just another member of the staff when you were anything but.
he wanted you. and he was done pretending otherwise.
the day had finally wrapped up, and ji-yong bee-lined to the dressing room, finding you humming to yourself by the clothing racks. he hesitates in the doorway before he steps inside.
“oh,” you glanced up. “did you forget something?”
for a second, he doesn’t answer. because yes, he had forgotten something. the warmth of your voice directed at him without uncertainty. how it felt like to talk to you once.
he scrunches his face in thought before shaking his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“nope, just need a breather.”
he ruffles his hair. he’s fidgety, nervous. it’s not lost on you.
you hum in response, turning your attention back to the clothes as you sift through them.
conversation over. he had no reason to linger. but he asks anyway, “you staying late again?”
you shrug. “gee eun’s asked me to organise a few things before tomorrow. you know how she gets.”
he smirks. “they’ll have to start charging you rent soon.”
that earns him a quiet chuckle. it’s familiar.
you continue talking, reflecting on the busy day, and he isn’t listening to the words. not really.
he’s lost in the sight of you. hair falling around your pretty face, all messy from the long day. your hands; delicate, always warm when you’d fix his collar.
how easy it would be to close the distance, to reach for you in the way he’s wanted to.
ji-yongs fingers twitch at his sides. it’s an effort to keep his feet planted there, to nod along.
“—are you even listening?”
“hrm?”
you scoff, your arms crossing.
“what did i just say?”
you watch his feet shuffle, his hand planting in his hair again. the weight of your gaze on him is heavy.
“ah, i haven’t seen that one before.”
ji-yong points at an outfit hanging on the rack to divert the topic. he steps forward, inspecting it when he knows damn well he’s already seen it. but now he’s moving, closing the space between you, and you don’t budge.
you raise a brow. “we used it for an interview earlier this year.”
“really? has it been tailored since?” he reaches out to touch the fabric, like he could give a damn about it. he barely even looks at it. but you are.
“like it needs that.” you adjust the sleeve, replying absently: “you looked great.”
he huffs a laugh. it’s shy, uncertain. he gets nothing but praise all the time, yet he still doesn’t know how to receive it.
he should probably say something else. but instead, he turns to you, and you glance up at him.
you’re close. you eye him curiously, before it shifts into understanding. he’s giving you that look again. like you’ve got something he wants. and he’s letting you recognise it.
he spots the faintest smudge of make-up on your cheek from working all day. and before he can stop himself, ji-yong reaches up to wipe it with his thumb.
your breath catches. his hand stills, hovering beside your cheek. neither of you move, feeling the air shift. it’s charged with something unspoken, but undeniable.
ji-yong’s heart drums against his chest like it’s about to give out. he swallows, watching your eyes dart all over his face.
you’re searching for reluctance, regret; but he holds your gaze while looking at you like there’s a million more things he would do.
you let go of the clothing and bring your hand to his one at your cheek. you close your fingers around the back of his hand, holding it.
“that’s a bad idea.”
he felt like his fingertips were charged with electricity. his body was buzzing with heat. slowly, gauging your reaction, he moves his palm to your face.
you don’t oppose— instead, you lean into his touch as he cradles your cheek.
“i know.” he mutters.
ji-yong’s thumb softly wipes over your skin, and you sigh. that noise stirs something in him.
”you should probably go.”
your hand trails down his wrist and over his arm. he watches with bated breath as your fingertips drag over his chest, stopping to feather over his throat.
“you might do something you’ll regret.”
you felt his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. breathlessly he says, “i wouldn’t.”
you dare to raise your hand to his face, ghosting your touch near his mouth. ji-yong responds by shifting his thumb to your chin, gently tilting your head for him.
for a beat, you let your breaths mingle as you stare at one another. you’re both asking: are we really doing this?
his gaze flickers to your lips and he sighs. you decide then that yes: we’re really doing this.
uncertainty gone, you lean forward to press your lips on his. they’re soft. you hear him suck in a breath through his nose, before he deepens the kiss by parting your mouth open with his own.
both his hands cradle your face, holding you like you’re precious. you pull him closer by his jacket, his body pressing into yours. you’re leaning into him, even letting little noises slip between the open-mouthed kisses.
it gets him hot. his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, asking for permission; when you hum in response, the warmth of his tongue slides into your mouth.
his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling your body further into his, feeling the curves of your chest press into him.
in turn, you felt his excitement digging into your hip. your head was whirling. this was a fucking celebrity, and you’re turning him on?
for a moment you’re both standing there, trading hot tongue kisses, letting your hands roam wild over each other.
ji-yong steps forward, guiding you to walk with him. he backs you into a nearby table.
you pull away, committing the sight before you to memory: ji-yong’s hair tousled, panting with his cheeks tinged red. his gaze charged with everything he’d do to you.
just as his hands come to your hamstrings to raise you onto the table, a distant voice from outside the door has you scrambling away from each other.
you position yourself back at the racks, with ji-yong pulling out his phone. someone walks past the room, glancing in to shoot you both a smile.
disaster averted.
but it was too close of a call. you shake your head at yourself, resting your palm on your forehead. what were you thinking, doing that with the door open?
you glance at ji-yong, pursing your lips. he gets the idea.
he nods, bowing his head as he turns to leave.
“ji-yong?”
he stops to look at you, and you beam a soft smile at him. an acknowledgment of what you two did: that it was real.
he smiles in kind, before you trade bows and he leaves you to get back to your work.
it’s not going to be the last time anyway.
ji-yong was being unbearable.
not outright, of course. just in the way that only you would pick up on.
he found you when the day started, approaching you in front of the styling team with a sly grin plastered on his face. he walked past you, brushing closer than was necessary— and he sneaked a hand out to pinch your waist.
you jumped, eyes darting up around the room. thankfully everyone’s too busy with their own tasks to take notice. you glanced back at ji-yong as he leaves, and he’s barely containing a giggle. asshole.
as the hours stretched on, he’d dare to steal fleeting touches: placing his palm on your back, brushing his fingers over your arm. ji-yong was too impatient for the day’s work to end. you still had to pick up from where your previous encounter left off.
once there were calls for a lunch break— you had locked eyes from across the room. you caught his lip twitch into a smirk briefly. while the other staff began to disperse, you continued your task of stitching up an accessory, biding for ji-yong to make his way over.
a gentle hand on your shoulder made your head turn, met with ji-yong’s face low at your ear.
“come with me?”
you exhale, turning your attention back to the needle. “what about my lunch?”
“i can arrange something for you after.”
you glance at ji-yong with a brow raised. he returns a boyish grin. his finger reaches up, twirling a stray strand of your hair.
you almost reply dryly again, but your words catch as ji-yong leans in, his breath fanning your lips. he extended his arm out, sliding the accessory from your hand and closing his own around your palm.
you suppress the urge to roll your eyes. you did still work under him, despite the tonsil hockey and all. he was just being so damn needy.
“alright.” you stood from your workbench, letting ji-yong pull your chair out and guide you by the hand. he had to drop it before you left the room together, but not before placing a kiss on your hand.
you followed ji-yong through the hallways. everyone was off on break elsewhere, but your heart was still beating in your throat. you were conjuring up excuses in the event that someone catches you— then ji-yong flashes you a soft smile.
he opens the door to an empty dressing room, offering you his palm to guide you in before him.
you take notice of a table against the wall, just before you hear the click of the door locking behind ji-yong.
now that you were actually here, you felt almost faint. it was so surreal. you worked here, and you were sneaking around. with the boss. a fucking idol.
and he led you here. because he wants you.
ji-yong’s hand finds your hip from behind. goosebumps bloom across your skin as he inhales at your hair behind your ear, breathing in your scent. his head leans forward, pressing a kiss to your temple.
his mouth trails down to your neck, hand softly roaming over your tummy, careful to not move further.
his name slips from you breathlessly, and he hums in response.
“we shouldn’t be long.”
you crane your head to him, and his palm comes to rest on your jaw. his gaze is unflinching from your lips.
“then i’ll make the most of it.”
there’s no hesitation this time as you both move to kiss each other. ji-yong gently spins you so you’re facing him, then pulling you in by the waist.
you’re both quick to part each other’s lips, your tongues pressing together as you tasted your shared breath. ji-yong was panting into the kisses, his fingers twitching to move from your back.
you bring your hands to cradle his face, briefly pulling away from the kiss to utter: “touch me.”
and he obeyed: sliding his hands with a newfound confidence till they reached the underside of your thighs, grabbing at the flesh.
your own hands tangled in his bright hair, pressing your hips into him— eliciting a hiss from ji-yong as his dick dug into your heat.
greed was rising in you. he’d been working you up all day, daring to show everyone just how close you two had gotten. you decide you’ll give him just what he’s been provoking.
ji-yong’s mouth breaks from yours in a groan as you slide your hand between your bodies to close your palm around his erection. he was hot in your hand, and a sight to behold: eyes screwed shut and his lips parted with a pant.
your hand inched upwards to rub at him, and his mouth came crashing onto yours again. you gasped as he squeezed your ass, nearly lifting you up as he guided you to walk back.
you get the idea— he wants to continue what he didn’t get to do yesterday.
you find your footing, kissing him fervently till you come in contact with the table’s edge. you hoist yourself up to sit on it, and ji-yong’s between your legs in an instant.
you pull him impossibly closer by his collar, and his groan rumbles in your throat as you roll your hips against him.
ji-yong’s mouth found purchase on your neck, and you hummed when he sucked on the skin.
time was ticking. you fumbled for his waistband, eager to unbuckle his belt, but he stopped you by the wrist.
you could’ve cussed him out— but he shot you a dark-eyed glance, his lip curled at the corner.
your mouth fell open as ji-yong dropped to his knees.
conveniently for him, you’d decided to wear a dress today. he pushed the skirt up your thighs, his lips parting in a pant when he noticed the damp spot in your panties.
he pulled them to the side, and you shuddered when he pressed a kiss to your bare cunt.
you steadied yourself with a hand in his hair as his head bobbed with kitten licks to your clit. he kept a palm on your thigh to keep your legs open, with the fingers of his other hand prodding at your core.
ji-yong ate you out like he was fucking starving. the noise of his own groans as he lapped at you vibrated against your clit. and when he finally slid his fingers in to curl up into you, you saw fucking stars.
it was only a few minutes before you came on his fingers, thighs threatening to clamp around his head. he kept his mouth latched onto you, sucking your clit through your orgasm.
he teased you with a swipe of his tongue over you, freshly sensitive. you swatted his head and he chuckled.
ji-yong was already lifting you off the table and ushering you out of the room just as you were asking to return the favour.
he replied that there wasn’t enough time, he still needed to organise lunch for you.
he let you leave the room first to find a bathroom, and you giggled as you flashed one last look at him: standing there with a (what would’ve been painfully hard) tent in his pants. his head dipped with a shy smile as the door shut.
after that, between you was an arrangement without a name. an affair that hadn’t yet been spoken into existence.
carefully coordinated encounters, stolen moments in the quiet corners of studios, which quickly progressed to meetings in parking lots and nights spent in hotel beds.
you’ve perfected the art of slipping away without raising suspicion, and he’s able to keep a straight face when someone asks where he’s been lately.
the team still believe it’s just a fleeting crush. it’s impossible to suppress his instinct to gravitate towards you, to gaze at you for far too long. it’s just something the stylists laugh at between themselves— they don’t he’d actually cross that line.
but he was far past that point. and he was down bad.
it’s in the way he can’t stop thinking of you when you’re not around. the way he’s memorised your little quirks when you’re working, how you bite your lip in concentration and hum absently.
the way he shifts his schedule around to better align with yours, just for the chance of more encounters in the shadows. the way he spent money on you like it meant nothing; treating you to meals and adorning you with jewellery, as much as you’d refuse.
but worst of all, it was in the music.
late at night, when he’s drafting songs for the album, the pen spills out lyrics that with your name written all over them.
his infatuation, his reluctance; his complete and utter devotion. him practically begging you to want to be with him.
the album was almost dangerously raw. when anyone close to him listens, they’ll start to wonder. because it’s not just a crush. ji-yong’s heart was yours.
truth was, he was falling in love. and he couldn’t tell a soul who you were.
you accompanied ji-yong to a photoshoot with elle magazine. the hours you’d been here have had no end of ji-yong attempting to whisk you away, sneak a kiss or two behind a corner.
you knew how he gets. ji-yong gets too excited for his own good; he couldn’t afford to get a boner when he has to pose up for the camera, or god forbid leak pre-cum into the trousers.
but it’d been a while since his schedule had an opening to spend time alone with you. he was restless today: groping you in the dressing room, stealing pecks on your face. you caught him staring at your chest in front of the other stylists, head dipped and all— and you nearly slapped him until you remembered he’s still g-dragon.
he’d catch your eye an alarming amount when he’d get into position for the pictures, almost as if he’s checking for your approval. it got to the point that you forced yourself to get busy with something else, in case someone starts to wonder why he keeps glancing in your direction.
the day was nearing its end. ji-yong was dressed in the last outfit prepared for him. you were skimming over any creases, straightening up his collar like you’d always do.
you spared him a smile and complimented him under your breath, low enough that the other stylists didn’t pay any mind.
but it only egged ji-yong on. temptation gets the better of him, and he leans forward on his toes like he’s about to kiss you— right there in front of everyone.
you freeze up as his nose nudges yours. it’s enough to have your heart drumming. it takes everything in you to calmly step away, not check to see if anyone saw.
and then someone’s calling his name for the next round of photos. he spares you a wink before he jogs off. you make a mental note to have no mercy the next time you fuck.
tonight was at long last a rare chance for ji-yong to spend the night with you. there’d been a cancellation in his plans, and he didn’t waste another moment in shooting you a message. all of your errands then became futile.
you had a singular foot in the door of his apartment before he launched himself at you. you felt zoa brush against your leg; he’s been telling you how much she’s missed you.
if only you could pet her, since ji-yong’s already practically ripping your clothes off.
you hadn’t forgotten his stunt at the elle photoshoot. you had straddled ji-yong on the couch, riding him till he was a whining mess. you only stopped after your second orgasm, and he was a shell of a man by the end of it. careful what you wish for.
freshly showered, you were both curled up in his sheets, your head resting on his chest. you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his body with each breath. ji-yong was drawing lazy circles on your arm, his eyes glossed over while his mind was in a distant place.
you could spend forever looking at that face without getting bored. there’s a reason he’s as famous as he is. he’s stunning, and he was all yours.
“what’re you thinking?” you murmured.
ji-yong’s quiet for a beat. then, his finger stills against your skin. “how much i hate hiding this.”
your heart skips a beat. there it was.
you shift, tilting your head to look at him. he tries to keep his face composed, but his eyes— warm, searching— give him away.
“you know why we have to.” you say carefully.
“i know,” he sighs, tightening his hold around you. “but that doesn’t mean i like it.”
his words settle between you two for a moment.
you knew this was coming. you’d been prolonging the day, dodging his attempts to ask what you both were, if you’d told anyone about him.
the thought’s lingered in your mind too of course. he’d charmed you; you adored him. maybe in another setting, where you were both on equal footing, it’d feel okay. but outside of these walls, you were just a stylist for g-dragon. and anything more than that being made public would blow up in your faces.
you could tell how much secrecy weighed him down. he wanted to show you off, to brag about you. be proud about his girl.
and you’re not sure you could give him that.
but tonight, you don’t say that.
instead, you bury your head in the crook of his neck and softly kiss his jaw.
“i’m here.” you whisper.
for now it’s enough.
but the way ji-yong presses a kiss to your hair, exhaling deeply: you can tell that this conversation wasn’t over. not tonight anyways.
a/n: thank you for reading! i’ve had so much inspiration for gd, i decided to just compile all my ideas into a series.
this part serves as the calm before the shitstorm. i already have the next parts planned out, but i’m taking my time with writing to ensure a cohesive story.
i hope to see you there in the next one! ♡
mtl submissive w fem reader. 18+
ft. GD ‧ TOP ‧ DAE ‧ YB ⟢
𝐉𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐆 (MOST LIKELY)
jiyong is a power sub, loud n’ proud. you’re the only one the king bows to, and thinking about it gets him all hot. fame’s nothing compared to the way you look down at him when you’re rutting your hips against his, drawing out shameless moans from his throat.
he’s a shy and needy lover. jiyong’s easily excitable; you’ll often catch him checking you out, getting flustered when you tease him over it. he can’t help how often he wants you. even just ghosting your lips over his neck can have him whining your name.
at times he needs to be put back in his place. while you’re bobbing your head on his cock, a buck of his hips to hit the back of your throat has you pulling away. jiyong reaches for you with a whine, when you press your thumb into his frenulum, watching him writhe.
though, he can get impatient. when he remembers he’s gdragon, he’ll act like a brat: kissing you with a force that cranes your neck back, carelessly tugging your clothes to the side with rough hands— trying to take whatever he wants.
but, once you shove him under you again, you remind him why that’s how he likes it best.
𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆
daesung is a switch. he’ll go along with whatever you want. if you just want to lay back, then he’ll gladly put the work in. but when you’re in the mood to wrap your fingers ‘round his neck and push him down against the sheets, daesung couldn’t be more willing.
he’s very into his hair being pulled. even when you’re just laying together, mindlessly playing with his hair— a light tug on his scalp is enough to have him sighing, kissing your jaw like he’s asking for permission.
he’s a thoughtful partner. it’s sweet, he gets off to your pretty smile when he’s submitting to you. he could so easily take back control— but daesung wants to do what pleases you the most, though not without a little fun of his own.
when you’re on bouncing on top of him, he’ll keep steady hands on your hips, looking up at you like you’re the air he breathes. he’s noisey on purpose; he loves seeing your reaction to his moans, how you speed up the rocks of your hips.
and, when he feels your thighs go slack, that’s when he’ll rock his hips to meet your thrusts, revelling in the way you gasp at him.
𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐄
youngbae is a soft dom. he wouldn’t exactly deny letting you take control— rather, you know he performs his best when you let him take care of you.
he’s a very doting lover. if you wrapped your wrist around him, he’d thrust his hips to match the speed of your hand. if you took his dick into your mouth, he’d tell you how beautiful you looked while you’re down. while you’re not exactly “in charge”, he’d still follow your every word. anything his girl wants, he’ll give.
if you feel like being a little bossy during sex, he’ll play into it. he’ll even smirk when you roughhouse with him. it always ends with him mounting you, asking if you’re done playing around with a cocky smile— leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.
actual power dynamics are a no-go for him. he wouldn’t ask you to submit yourself, either. it’s pretty much always love-making with youngbae.
𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍 (LEAST LIKELY)
seunghyun is a service dom. it’s a known fact that he has a strict boundary on letting people see or touch his body. of course, you’re one of the very few exceptions— but he shines during intimacy when the focus is you.
he’ll keep his head buried between your thighs till you’re practically prying his mouth off of you. and even if you reach for him, try to return the favour— he’ll just hush you with a kiss to the lips, before he’s sliding his hand down to rub little circles on your clit, still tender from when he ate you out.
he’s got a lanky build, which he absolutely uses to his advantage: he’ll keep you pinned down with firm hands around your wrists or gently wrapped around your neck. he loves when you’re helpless to just taking what he gives you.
it’s difficult to thwart the control he has during sex. it’s one of the few things he strictly takes seriously. while he’s up to experimenting in the bedroom— the act itself is vulnerable enough for him, so being in charge is where seunghyun’s comfortable.
don’t waste your time trying to take control— just lay back and let him do what he does best, yeah?
notes: spreading my sub!gd agenda. i wrote this while very sleepy so apologies that it’s not polished
with nothing left to lose, you decide to confront your illicit past with ji-yong. old habits die hard (or maybe not at all).
⋆˙⟡ ibelongiiu part three 𓂃
c/w: fem!reader x sub!jiyong. angst | smut | fluff. age gap. cheating. conflict. breakup. confessions. endgame. nsfw content minors dni
like promised, you and ji-yong hadn’t spoken since that night. there was no “we should talk” text. no explanation of what it meant. just clean-cut silence. and that was for the better.
you went your separate ways once again— him, working on the new album. and you, going back home to your boyfriend.
you clung to the safe, mundane life you had with him. you pretended that you hadn’t just thrown it all away for a hit-and-run with your ex.
it was little more than just a singular, impulsive, meaningless night. you tell yourself ji-yong probably felt the same. and for a while, it works.
until the photos surface.
blurry, grainy; obviously shot from a phone camera with shaky hands. you could laugh at how low quality they were, if you weren’t sick to your stomach.
there’s one of you and ji-yong standing in a dimly lit corner of the chanel show. another of him leaning in closer while you’re speaking. and then one that makes your insides flare: ji-yong mid-conversation with someone else, craning his neck to stare at you from across the room.
thankfully, the articles don’t name you— just “a mystery woman spotted with g-dragon”. but, it still found its way to your boyfriend’s algorithm. he sent you the link to one with a question mark. then came another.
it wasn’t long before he finally approached you, holding out his phone.
“this was him?”
you barely glanced at the photo. the way ji-yong’s looking at you in it has been burned into your memory.
“yeah,” you answer, keeping your tone light. “it was just a surprise catch-up. i didn’t even know he’d be there.”
that part, at the least, is true.
what you neglect to mention: the locked hotel door. the drink you shared. the way ji-yong looked at you after you shoved him, like he’d let you do anything you wanted.
but for now, it’s enough to reassure your boyfriend. you just hoped that’d be the last you’d hear of it.
come february, and übermensch drops like a bomb.
his comeback dominates the media. you only skimmed a few headlines before muting all mentions of his name. they’re saying it’s dark, sexy— raw in a way that feels like the carrion of a secret dragged into the spotlight.
you can’t help but recall the lyrics he used to hum against your skin, the verses he’d draft while writing late at night. you wonder if any of the ‘just between us’ songs made it to the final cut.
of course, fate’s got a sick sense of humour.
your boyfriend walked to you in the kitchen, phone in his hand and a strange look on his face.
“have you heard this?”
your throat tightens. you know he must’ve listened to the album. it can’t be anything good.
your boyfriend presses play on a song. it’s got a sensual tone to it. ji-yong’s voice is deep, the words raw.
you realise it must be bonamana— the one that fans have been whispering about online. track seven. the confessional. the one he sounds like he’s bleeding in.
you bite the inside of your cheek, keeping your gaze ahead as you listen. your boyfriend’s studying you.
ji-yong’s quite literally rapping about a girl with someone else waiting at home, but you’re tossing up the explanations in your head— this could all just be fiction, it’s a misunderstanding..
until the song reaches a particular verse. you’re floored. ji-yong’s practically retelling your encounter that night in the hotel: how you pushed him, got on top of him.
and he put it into a song for the whole world to hear. because of course he did.
your reaction’s louder than words. your boyfriend stares at you with his jaw clenched. he pauses the song— he’s got his answer.
“it’s about you, isn’t it?” his eyes search your face. “tell me i’m wrong.”
you swallow. “it is.”
he takes a step towards you. “when.”
“it was just the one time—”
“don’t do that.” he groaned, shaking his head. “don’t act like it was meaningless when the whole fucking world knows what it meant to him.”
there’s no use fixing it. you had this coming.
you gathered your things in silence while he paced the apartment like he was still waiting for something to change. for this to somehow be just another fight, not the end.
but it was. he wanted to hash it out, find some compromise and recover from this. but you refused to stay and ruin him any more than you already have. you would at least do him that grace.
and yet, in retrospect, it almost feels like there was nothing solid to end. like you’d been in limbo the entire time— pretending something steady existed between you, when really, your heart was never his to begin with.
you zipped up your overnight bag. he stood in the doorway, watching you with a hollow look.
“i’m sorry,” you say quietly. it’s all you had left to offer him. pitiful, too little too late— especially after ji-yong had bared the truth of it all to the world, immortalising your betrayal in his music.
your now-ex didn’t yell. didn’t cry. you shared a knowing nod as you turned the door knob— the kind of look that said all the things his mouth couldn’t.
before you walked out, his voice comes softly: “you chose him. maybe not out loud, but you did.”
he’s not wrong. and what’s worse— you’ve started to think that this was always how it was going to end. you, finding your way back to ji-yong. it just shouldn’t of taken someone else’s heart as a stepping stone for you to get there.
you were two bottles of wine into your wallowing. alone in your apartment, a cigarette burning idly between your fingers that really hadn’t done much to take the edge off.
a coworker from your new firm, who’d become a good friend, was just checking in on you— and you, in your boozy woe is me state, bluntly mentioned the breakup. it was half a joke, half a cry for help. if you had sent that sober, you would’ve contemplated suicide for being so embarrassing.
she must’ve passed the word on, because hours later, your phone buzzed with a call from a familiar number. someone from your former styling team.
“we’re all going to the album listening party tonight. you could come out.” her voice is hesitant, like she’s unsure if she should be asking.
you weighed the options: a third bottle of wine, or going to your ex’s celebratory party (who was also the reason your last relationship just ended).
you couldn't decide which option would cost more of the last shred of dignity you had left.
“ah, fuck it. where do i meet you?”
guess that number’s below zero now.
the venue was all flashing lights and booming bass, full of industry faces and overlapping chatter. your back stayed glued to a wall, nursing a drink while you chatted with your old team.
your name hadn’t even been on the guest list— but someone from his team ushered you in without a second glance. you didn’t know how to feel about it. inside, you tried to ignore the way people’s gaze lingered on you, like they had a faint idea of who you were.
you watched the crowd sway to the music. personally, you weren’t paying it much mind; ji-yong had already played some of the demos for you.
but then you hear the start of one you don’t recognise. it’s groovy and upbeat— his voice doesn’t have that usual grit to it.
then the chorus comes, and your breath catches.
take me, i’m yours.
you recall hearing that before, except it was said in private— ji-yong had once cooed those words to you, gazing at you with heart-eyes while his head laid on your chest.
he must’ve wrote this while you were still together. you wonder just how much the rest of the album had your memory etched into it. is that why they called you here? how many people knew?
a lump formed in your throat. it’s all too much.
you scanned the room— searching, needing— when your eyes land on him, already looking at you. ji-yong, drink in hand, with youngbae’s arm slung over his shoulder. he looked untouchable under the pulsing red lights.
everything else around him fell away. his eyes are burning, flickering with something you can’t quite place. and when you don’t avert your eyes— he puts down his drink, and he’s moving. so you excuse yourself from the table and wade through the crowd.
you trail ji-yong to a quiet corner of the room.
as you approach, you stop in front of him, close enough to hear his breath tremble. you don’t speak first.
“didn’t think i’d see you here.” he says, quiet under the music.
“me neither.” you admit.
take me’s chorus booms in the background— ji-yong’s own voice begging to be taken by you. he huffs a shy laugh, lifting his straw hat to ruffle his hair.
how he can act so flustered, when he’s the one who put it out there for everyone (or perhaps just you) to hear. speaking of which;
”i heard bonamana,” you start. ji-yong’s head raises at that, his eyes anticipating your reaction. a smirk tugs at your lips. you scoff. “you’re a mess.”
ji-yong fidgets with his sleeves. there’s a small smile on his face. it’s cute, how shy he is. seems like he really wasn’t expecting this.
“wanna talk?”
his reply is instant, soft but certain. “not here. come with me?”
and you do. because of course you do.
ji-yong leads you into a quieter lounge room tucked away from the rest of the venue, the bass of the party muffled by the door as it clicks shut behind him.
there’s low lighting, and a velvet sofa against the wall that you perch on. ji-yong’s standing there with his hands in his pocket, his stance more relaxed.
“you really listened to it?” he asks, soft.
you met his eyes, cocking a brow. “you’ve got nerve, releasing that while i had a boyfriend.”
his mouth pulls into something between a grimace and a smile. “had?”
you sit up straighter. “well i’m here, aren’t i?”
he nods slowly. his eyes drift, avoiding yours, like he’s scared he’ll say too much if he keeps looking. your hands curl to fists in your lap.
“couldn’t this have been a phone call, ji? did you have to… sing it all?”
his head tilts back, face cracking with a smile. there’s no humour in it though— he’s trying to hold himself back.
“i thought you were done with me.” his jaw clenches. he shifts in his spot. “i got to keep you close to me when i wrote about you. even if i didn’t get to be yours.”
you’re quiet. ji-yong goes to step towards you, but restrains himself. he settles on playing with his ring instead.
“i didn’t plan this. i swear, i didn’t approach you in hong kong intending to drag you back into my life. but when i saw you..” he exhales a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut, like he’s replaying the memory of that night. “i hoped.”
he pauses, staring at you intently— like he’s daring you to look away. you hold his gaze, and he’s sure of himself enough to slowly step towards you.
“i hoped you’d still remember us the way i do.”
your throat tightens as you watch him hover above you in the chair. you stand, and your faces are dangerously close once you’re on your feet. you can hear the faintest noise from his throat.
“i can’t forget.” you murmur. “and that’s the fucking problem.”
“then let’s stop pretending.” his eyes soften. “please.”
you look at him. really look at him. and for the first time in a long time, you feel the mask slipping from your face.
and then you hear it— the intro to gyro-drop bleeding through the walls. you blink at him, registering the lyrics. ji-yong watches your reaction, face a cross between amusement and dread. your face splits in a laugh.
“you’re really letting everyone know you bottom, huh?”
he winces with a boyish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “it wouldn’t be right otherwise.”
you hum in response, pinching the brim of his hat teasingly. he watches with bated breath as you lift it from his head. tossing it to a side table, ji-yong snatches your waist into his hands with a newfound impatience.
“i missed you so much,” he says breathlessly. “been waiting for you.”
“mm, i heard.” you drawl, cupping his jaw in your palms.
and then the tension boils over. ji-yong’s yanking you into a kiss, mouths meeting with months worth of pent-up hunger. by the lapel of his jacket, you pull him down onto the couch with you, wasting no time straddling his lap.
you’re both hurried with the rocks of your hips, trading messy kisses that left your chin stained with saliva. it wasn’t long before hands were being shoved down pants, and clothes swiftly pushed to the side.
you fucked ji-yong right there on that couch. his hands on your hips, looking up at you with heart-eyes as you rutted down on his dick. he was a whining mess— sloppy thrusts trying to match your pace.
you had to muffled his mouth with a kiss as he came— you worried he’d be louder than the music.
as you both winded down from your highs, ji-yong pressed his forehead to yours, strands of hair drenched with sweat.
“i’m yours.”
and in that moment, with your heart thudding against his and your lips brushing softly, you kiss him— sweeter this time. it’s not just want, it’s a promise. and it didn’t need to be said out loud. you’re his.
the dressing room buzzes with a life that could only be described as an organised chaos— stylists flitting around with last-minute touch-ups, his team checking monitors and cue sheets, the distant roar of the crowd beyond the stage.
in the eye of the storm, ji-yong’s calm. he’s seated in a chair at the vanity, head tipped back and eyes closed while you adjust his chains.
“these will wilt if you keep sweating,” you tease, poking the fabric of his rose jacket.
he cracks one eye open with a smile. “promise to dry me off?”
you roll your eyes and flick his ear, earning a low chuckle from him.
you check your watch— showtime’s in just a few minutes. ji-yong’s hand finds your waist with ease, tugging you closer so you’re standing between his legs.
instinctively, you go smooth over the fabric of his shirt, fix up the neckline. despite being well-established at your job, you still find yourself reverting back to your habits from being ji-yong’s stylist.
you brush a stray strand of hair from his face. “you nervous?”
he shrugs. “night can’t get much better than this.”
you arch a brow. he cracks open an eye to scrunch his nose at you, pulling you down for a kiss.
it’s brief, a soft press of lips, but it grounds you both. a reminder of what it took to get here. of the time you spent apart, the quiet hope buried under all the words unsaid.
how now, you can kiss in front of his staff without anyone staring sideways. how you can support him before the first concert of the tour, by his side and in the public eye.
how he’ll go out on that stage, and the crowd will sing along to the words he wrote in reminiscence of you. hoping you’d come back to him. waiting.
a crew member distantly yells the two-minute call.
ji-yong exhales, taking your hand in his. you give him a reassuring squeeze.
“i’ll be watching from the side.”
“well, now i have to do my best, don’t i?”
you watched him as he positioned himself on the platform, giving you one last smile as ji-yong, before he emerged on the stage as g-dragon.
ji-yong to you, g-dragon to the audience. and all of him, belonging to you.
a/n: and it’s done! hope you enjoyed reading this lil series as much as i did writing it, thank you all for readin ♡
