⊹₊⟡⋆Blonde J.YH.
Ateez fake texts
Pairing: bf!yunho x reader
Warnings: sexual content MDNI, language, banter. BLONDE YUNHO
About: Yuhno goes blonde
Masterlist

seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Russia

seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from T1
seen from Poland
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Germany
⊹₊⟡⋆Blonde J.YH.
Ateez fake texts
Pairing: bf!yunho x reader
Warnings: sexual content MDNI, language, banter. BLONDE YUNHO
About: Yuhno goes blonde
Masterlist
STARLIGHT — JYH
a fic in which ... you make out with your boyfriend, Yunho, underneath the stars.
𐙚pairing: yunho x gn!reader
𐙚content: fluff, established relationship, nickname (he calls reader pretty once) 18+ NO MINORS: making out, grinding
𐙚word count: 1.1k 𐙚playlist: starlight-astn • e85-don toliver • castle-ateez
WARMEST COMPANY | ATEEZ JUNG WOOYOUNG
In the midst of preparing for exams, your boyfriend Wooyoung knows how to lift your spirits.
pairing » ateez jung wooyoung x fem!reader
trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au
genre » fluffy fluff fluff, chef boyfriend wooyoung
word count; estimated reading time » 1022; 4 mins
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » wooyoung carries reader
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist
first wooyoung fic!! and i'm also going to use this time to advertise my ateez network: @eighteez-net !! it's open to any ateez creators (e.g. moodboards, gif), not just writers!! hope you enjoy boyfie chef wooyo!! 😆
thinking about mean dom!park seonghwa
mean dom!seonghwa who is endlessly patient when it comes to presenting himself to the public. always soft-spoken, always smiling, his voice gentle as he talks to his bandmates, like a mother goose carefully tending to his ducklings.
mean dom!seonghwa who makes sure to never startle anyone he meets for the first time. every movement is deliberate, every expression carefully chosen, ensuring he appears as approachable as possible, the safest presence in any room.
RAPID FIRE ; song mingi
installment 2 (둘)
➣ synopsis: song mingi. everyone knows his name — south korea’s golden boy rapper and producer is always in the headlines; award after award, sold out shows, new #1 albums. recently, it’s been: drinking, fights, drugs, girls. in order to help his image, his agency comes up with a last attempt to help him and it involves becoming your boyfriend, south korea’s sweetheart and the complete opposite of song freaking mingi.
➣ pairing: song mingi x f!idol reader
➣ genre: fake relationship, angst, eventual smut, eventual fluff
➣ word count: approx 12.7k
➣ GENERAL WARNINGS FOR SERIES: Mingi is major big asshole for a while but he gets better I promise, negotiations of relationship related issues without recipients consent, vulgar language, violence, blood, arguments, heated situations (and not in a hot way), toxic environments, misogyny, toxic masculinity, Mingi is a HOT MESS, yes that’s a warning, mentions of past relationships and also Mingi having sexual relations with other people, bisexual!mingi, kind of explicit scenes with Mingi having sex with someone other than the reader, excessive drinking and recreational drug use, big dick Mingi bc yes he has a big dick, eventual rough sex, clit/pussy slapping, sex in public, biting, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), illusions to voyuerism, mg is very angry for a lot of this but I promise things get better, this looks like a dark fic but I promise there are tender moments, you just have to get through all of that ^^
➣ SPECIFIC warnings for chapter: bisexual mingi out in full force at the end, mingi being mean again :(, sorry not sorry for the slow burn, very brief mentions of suicidal ideation but barely
➣ part one. part three.
Hello, this is KQ and AURA Entertainment.
We would like to share a joint announcement regarding two of our artists, Y/N and MINGI. We, along with the artists permission are confirming that they are dating. At this time, both artists wish for privacy and respect as they navigate their relationship with one another. Any ill comments or rumors will be handled legally. Thank you for your understanding.
Thank you.
KQ Entertainment
AURA Entertainment
It’s been a week since the press release has been posted.
A week of your phone blowing up; a week of the girls giving you careful side glances; a week of dealing with this weird pity thing both Wooyoung and San are doing with you.
A week of no longer being true to yourself or to your Rebels.
Your eyes and head spun as your social media pages practically blow up. Netizens are genuinely having a field day with this announcement, calling you desperate for attention; calling you a whore; calling you a fake.
A fake.
You might be a lot of things, but you have always prided yourself as someone who was never fake. Your emotions unfortunately rule you and how you poise yourself as a person, an idol. A poker face is something you have never had — so the fact that you are in this position, with people calling you a fake, feels laughable beyond belief.
On the other hand, you have fans going absolutely wild for this pairing. Fans are making edits on TikTok, some are making analysis tweets and others are just expressing their love for the both of you.
It’s sweet, but you just wish that all of this wasn’t for only Mingi’s benefit. You’ve seen the headlines recently:
KOREAN RAPPER SONG MINGI FINALLY SETTLING DOWN?
RAPPER SONG MINGI AND ROYALS MEMBER L/N Y/N ARE AN UNLIKELY PAIRING, BUT TRUE LOVE FINDS A WAY!
You just want to bash your head in. If you could, you would deactivate everything, but you won’t.
The conference room is stifling as you sit at the table. You fingers are practically raw as you have done nothing for the past week but nervously chew on them, your cheek is unfortunately another victim of a nervous habit and once in a while, you can taste the metallic tang against your tongue that brings you back to reality.
For the next year, your dating life will be picked apart ruthlessly, people giving opinions on something they see and don’t even know.
Well, you guess that’s kind of the point of this whole thing.
Wooyoung has his eyebrows furrowed together, knee bouncing underneath the table in a way that makes your stomach queasy. After years of being an idol, you have realized the last few weeks, that things can still rattle you to your core.
You suppose you’re grateful that you’re not emotionless like some of the sunbaenim’s you know who have turned rock hard under all the criticism and spotlights shone on them.
San has been busy putting out fires left and right since the press release went up. Luckily, his team was ready for it, obviously, but the other day you remember saying goodnight to him as you left the company and saying good morning when you returned the following day for practice. San had not moved from his desk.
San has been issuing legal documents to people who have taken comments way too far, citing them, taking their posts down and doing damage control. It makes your head spin at everything he’s been able to do lately.
You reach up to rub the pads of your fingers against your forehead, trying to push the ache behind your skull away.
Hongjoong and Jongho make their way into the conference room, bowing and saying hello to everyone. You do the same, getting up to bow towards them.
Mingi strolls in, backwards cap on his head, black sunglasses on his face and a lollipop in his mouth.
He looks so good.
Shut up, Y/N.
He takes the seat across from you, sending you a smile and a wink. You roll your eyes, letting out a hard exhale and crossing your arms.
“Good morning everyone,” Wooyoung clears his throat.
“Good morning,” Hongjoong smiles tightly, his dangly earrings catching the light in a way that directs your attention to them.
Mingi slouches down in his seat, raising his arm to reach up and pull the lollipop out of his mouth. The bracelets he’s wearing on his wrists fall to his forearm with the movement and it makes you look back at him.
He and you have not interacted much this week. You’ve sent him a few texts, only garnering very dry, uninterested responses that leave you pulling at the roots of your hair.
“Let’s get into it — we will be covering the schedule regarding Mingi and Y/N for the upcoming few weeks.” Jongho says, wasting no time.
You lick your lips, them having dried out as a response to how nervous you’ve been for this meeting.
“Tomorrow, Y/N and the rest of ROYALS have their movie premiere for their world tour that will be airing on select big screens. Y/N and Mingi will attend that together, they will not take any questions since they haven’t been able to spend much time together to get their stories straight.” San begins, reading off of a list on his tablet that looks to be ten million miles long.
Right, you and Mingi have to come up with a story. That is something that the companies dropped on you when the press release went out. It almost made everything more annoying, knowing that you’ll have to spend additional unwanted time with Mingi to get your act straight.
“On Thursday, ROYALS is beginning their variety show called ROYALS Life in the Dreamhouse which will include Y/N as the first host and Mingi as the first guest.”
That sentence makes your stomach drop.
“I’m sorry, what? Since when is he going to be the first guest?” You look directly at Wooyoung, eyes pleading silently.
“When you all signed on, we did agree that the first episode would be all four of you as an intro episode, but things have changed since then.” Wooyoung says to you in a tone that he uses with you as a warning.
The warning is: do not start anything.
“So he’s just going to come in and hijack literally everything that we have planned?” You ask incredulously.
“He has a name,” Mingi says, startling you.
You send him a glare. “Yeah, it starts with douche and ends with bag.”
Mingi’s eyes darken as he narrows them at you. It makes something hot and fluttery bubble in the very bottom of your stomach. God, you’re so weak.
“Careful angel face,” he says lowly.
You resist the urge to gag at the name. His little pet names have bothered you beyond belief. They aren’t meant for him, they are meant for someone who actually likes you, for someone who is actually in a relationship with you.
Unfortunately, the way he says these names to you make your bones ache in a way you’re not used to. Song Mingi has genuinely messed up everything about you and your life. It’s been two fucking weeks.
“Moving on—” Jongho sends a look to both you and Mingi. Damn, if looks could kill. “On Saturday, you two need to post something on social media about an anniversary. At this point, you guys should be together for about a year.”
You’re joking.
“So we have to write sappy little ‘happy one year anniversary!’ on Instagram to sell it, huh?” You scoff. “Wouldn’t that be a dead giveaway since he’s been seen out fucking every model in Seoul?”
You get a kick to the shin under the table, sending a gasp out of your mouth, eyes wide in disbelief at Wooyoung.
He’s not even looking at you.
You shake your head, twisting the chair back and forth in attempt to distract yourself from the shit show unfolding in front of you.
Mingi hasn’t said anything for the whole meeting, two hours passing slowly as he milks the lollipop in his mouth. You’re even more irritated when he pulls the sucker out, looking you dead in the eyes as he twirls his tongue around it.
Asshole.
As the meeting comes to an end, everyone leaves and Mingi sends you a little salute.
“See you tomorrow, angel.”
You hope the movie premiere gets rained out tomorrow, maybe the theater will have a pipe burst and will have to be postponed. Yes, that would be the move.
San gets up, mumbling something that you don’t understand and leaves the room.
Wooyoung sighs and looks at you. For the first time in a while, you look at him, really look at him.
He has the beginnings of deep purple circles underneath his eyes, skin slightly pallor.
“Are you getting sick?” You ask quietly, concerned for your friend.
“Yeah,” Wooyoung laughs humorlessly, “sick of the bullshit you’re putting me through.” He leans forward, palms flush with the table. “I know this situation is less than ideal, but I cannot have you fight me on every fucking thing, Y/N.”
“It’s not fair!” You yelp weakly, your neck starting to get hot and your throat getting uncomfortably tight.
“No, it’s not, but you’re not making it easier, either. Please, for the love of all things good in this world, just fucking stop.” His voice cracks and you finally see the wear and tear you are putting on the man in front of you.
“I’m sorry.”
He smiles melancholy-like, gathering his things and getting up, leaving you in the conference room with you and your thoughts.
You shut your eyes, welcoming the burn that comes with that action, distracting you from everything going on right now.
“We can’t have been together for a year, it doesn’t make sense. He’s been seen with other women.” You try and say.
Wooyoung exhales harshly, “it’s easy to say something like Mingi was trying to wait until you were ready for your relationship to go public before he changed his behavior so abruptly.”
Well, that doesn’t make any fucking sense. You open your mouth to say something else but Wooyoung gives you a look and you shut it, words getting lost at the tip of your tongue.
Before you had debuted, a staff member at AURA had taken you, Jihyo, Harin, and Heejin up to a coastal town pretty far north. You helped this ahjussi and ahjumma fish off the dock, picked cabbage for their kimchi, walked around the markets eating various street foods, etc.
You remember very vividly how you and the girls had been brought out to the tiny pier they had in town and watched the sun set as fishing boats came in to the harbor. You were told to relish and be in this moment right now, to remember how peaceful this moment and this experience was when things get overwhelming at your time of debut.
It has been such a long time since you thought of that day, but right now, you needed that moment more than ever. You needed to inject the serene feeling you experienced that day, back into your veins to keep you going.
This arrangement isn’t forever. You are gonna get through this, even if it hurts like hell.
Harin’s gum chewing is driving you insane. Her vivid pink hair is slicked back in cute 1920’s-esque waves and her dress is a short, satin black, suit-like mini dress. She looks radiant, and her gum chewing is driving you insane. Pop, pop, pop, goes her bubbles.
Yeosang is running some kind of styling gel through your hair, scrunching sections of it. It’s hard for you to even focus on what kind of look he’s going for on you. Jihyo’s dress is a black corset situation, black lacey gloves adorning her hands as she pulls up her knee high boots. Heejin is wearing a pinstripe suit mini dress with a thick black bra popping out of the middle.
Everyone looks incredible and they’re so incredibly excited. You can see the emotions in their face, Jihyo and Heejin posing for selfies together since they’re both fully ready.
You’ve had nothing but nerves running through your veins, keeping you irritated and on your toes all day. Clearing your throat, you close your eyes, trying to focus on what matters.
This is huge for your group, having a documentary/concert movie shown on the big screen in select theaters, allowing your fans to get a glimpse of what your tour was like and what it was like behind the scenes, too.
And all you can think about is Song Mingi and his stupid, perfect, smug, handsome face.
Yeosang touches your shoulder, bringing you back to the chair you’re sitting in.
He smiles slightly, “you’re ready to get dressed now.”
You nod, looking at yourself in the mirror. You look stunning — Yeosang always makes sure of it, it’s just the last thing on your mind.
You can do this, Y/N, you’re strong and you’re going to get through this.
You’re shoved into this very shiny, very sparkly silver mini dress with a deep plunge neckline and some strappy black heels, finished off with some long black gloves. Honestly, you feel good, you feel sexy, even.
And then Song Mingi walks into the dressing room, ruining everything.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
Mingi looks up at you through the split strands of black hair over his eyes and a signature smile makes its way onto his face.
“Come on, doll, you don’t like?”
Your blood boils, skin heating up at the question.
“Where are your clothes?” You shriek, gesturing wildly.
Mingi is wearing a black denim jacket, black denim baggy jeans with chains wrapped around his waist, and no shirt. Yep, no shirt. A thick red band peeks out of the top of his jeans, accentuating the slight v-lines you can barely make out under his jacket.
Your eyes drink up his bare skin, toned stomach and chest on full display. This is going to make everything even more difficult for you.
Again, you’re not blind — Mingi is one of the most attractive men you’ve laid your eyes on. His attitude and actions most definitely bring that rating down slightly, though.
Mingi reaches up and grabs either side of his jacket, pulling it away from his torso so you can see even more of his naked, creamy skin.
A shriek comes from behind you and you turn, eyes wide as Harin is covering her eyes in surprise.
“No warning, Mingi! None! You’re just in here, naked!” You turn back around frantically, trying to shoo him out.
“I am not naked,” he boredly replies. “Angel face, come on, people came for a show. I just made sure they got one.”
“Oh, real classy, Mingi. South Korea’s golden boy everyone!”
“Sorry we’re not all glitz and glam, sweetheart.”
His tone is not sorry. Mingi is not sorry about any of this and honestly, he’s probably doing this to torture you. He probably requested to not wear a shirt, just to watch you squawk like a bird, speechless.
Jongho stands behind Mingi, eyes dark and looking actually classy in a tight fitting suit. There’s a slight red hue to his hair under the harsher lights and for the first time, you’re thinking about how handsome Choi Jongho is as well.
Mingi makes that keheum sound in the back of his throat, drawing your eyes back to him.
Mingi is being shameless, you realize. You watch his eyes fully drink in your appearance, dangerously flicking up and down, lingering on a specific part of your body that makes you feel like a piece of meat.
That’s all Song Mingi is: a carnivore, waiting to devour his next prey.
You will not fall victim and be his next meal, even though it would be incredibly easy. That feeling settles deep in your gut, heavy at the idea.
Wooyoung had left the room about twenty minutes ago, tending to a fire before the premiere started and San is nowhere to be found.
Jihyo, Heejin, and Harin all come up behind you, heat radiating off of their bodies.
“You must be Mingi,” Jihyo says, unreadable expression on her face.
“Guilty.”
“Hmm, charming.” Jihyo sarcastically lets out a smile, before turning around and walking towards the table that’s holding all kinds of snacks and drinks.
Mingi’s face softens slightly, a hint of confusion painting it.
“Oh good, Mingi, you’re here,” you hear San say.
He looks slightly frazzled, but somehow still incredibly put together. His tight expression is pinned on you and Mingi, “time for you guys to head out onto the carpet.”
“Wait, he’s going out like this?” You ask someone else, hoping for a different answer than the one you know you’re going to get.
San takes a deep breath and looks at Mingi. “He was told to keep it clean, it could be worse and Jongho-ssi knows the limits as well.”
You want to scream. You feel like an entitled brat and you have no idea where any of this is coming from. Why is he able to get under your skin so easily? What is it about him that irks you so badly? Why are you feeling like a child who cannot regulate their emotions?
Mingi holds his hand out, adorned in rings. “Shall we?”
You glare at him, turning to face your members. They all turn around fast as if they weren’t observing your interaction with him. Oh, they’re so going to talk to you later at home.
Well, this is it, then.
Declining his hand, you walk past him, down the hallway of the company. You heels clack against the cement flooring until it hits carpet, walking towards the door where your limo is waiting.
San is expectantly waiting by the car door, ushering you in. The second you and Mingi sit down in the limo, the door shuts and you’re on the road. San is next to you, busy typing on his phone and Jongho is next to Mingi, also busy on his own phone.
You adjust yourself in your seat, trying to pull your dress further down your thighs in an attempt to cover yourself up a little. Sure, you’re no stranger to revealing clothes, but when you’re in close quarters with Song Mingi who looks at women like a starved man, you’d rather be safe than sorry.
Mingi’s face is illuminated by his phone, paying little attention to you. The way he smiles slightly to the screen turns something ugly in you, though. Who is he talking to and why isn’t he focusing on the task at hand?
You let your eyes drift down the length of his body. It’s okay to admire, you tell yourself. It’s okay to admire — technically, it’s encouraged since he isn’t wearing a shirt.
The shadows play tricks on his skin, contouring even the smallest dip. His body is well taken care of, he’s muscular and cut and definitely somebody you’d want to be under.
Wait…what?
There is something seriously wrong with you.
His phone vibrates, him accepting the call and raising his phone to his ear.
“Hey dollface,” he responds and you practically fall out of your seat, face burning.
It’s not a surprise or it shouldn’t be, but it still shocks you to know that his nicknames he uses for you are also the ones he uses for the people he has in his bed almost every night.
It makes you feel slightly sick in a weird, twisted way, knowing you’re not special to him.
He’s not special to you, so why would you be special to him?
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you later tonight, I’ll pick you up.”
You hear a high pitched, whiny voice at the other end of the call and roll your eyes, looking out the window.
San’s knee lightly bumps yours, him offering a bit of comfort in an awkward moment. It’s times like this when you’re truly aware of how in tune your team is with you and your emotions, the same going for the other girls as well.
Lately, it’s something you’ve taken for granted due to you being highly preoccupied with the unfortunate predicament that you are in with Mingi. Here’s the thing — if Mingi had literally been anyone else and yes, you mean, anyone else, you don’t think this situation would bother you as much as it does.
However, because of the nature of who Mingi is — someone who does not care about his image, someone who doesn’t care about who he’s seen with, what he’s seen with, what he’s seen doing, etc. He really leaves nothing to the imagination and you find that incredibly distasteful and gross.
Yes, he’s hot, we’ve been over that. You can find many other guys who are hot though, you don’t need to stoop to his level.
Mingi ends the call and puts his phone away, whispering something to Jongho. You would think, with how close you are to each other in this limo, you would hear what he’s saying. Unfortunately, that is not the case and you’re left wondering idly about it.
Not that it’s any of your business but…you can’t help but be curious.
Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N.
“Which one of your whores was that?” You ask, not thinking before speaking.
The question surprises you at how abrasive you are, you don’t take to calling other women whores very often, it makes your skin crawl grossly. Deep down, you can’t help but wonder where this feeling akin to jealousy is coming from.
You’re not jealous. You don’t want to touch Mingi with a ten foot pole, but you’re becoming someone you don’t necessarily love in your own eyes when it comes to him.
“You know, I really don’t know why you’re such a fucking bitch about what I’m doing. Maybe, you should take a page out of my book and find someone who is willing to pull that stick up your ass out. Maybe getting laid would cause you to be less insufferable.”
“Hyung!” Jongho snaps sharply, but the damage is done.
Mingi’s words cause you to suck your teeth in order to hide your lips from quivering.
“You two need to behave,” San says lowly. “The red carpet is thirty minutes and then you’ll sit next to each other for the runtime of the movie. After that, feel free to act however you want behind closed doors. Closed doors being the keyword.”
Mingi stares at you, face stony as he practically tries to pry into your soul. You can feel the heat of his anger radiating off of him. You’re thinking the same could be said about you.
Suddenly, everything is too much for you. Your dress is too tight, your shoes pinch your toes, your earrings are heavy, you’re too hot in this limo.
Thankfully, the limo comes to a stop and you can barely make out the flashes from large cameras your way.
“Pretending starts now,” Jongho states, sitting up to open the car door and make his way out.
San follows behind and then Mingi goes, barely looking at you.
You try and exit the limo the best way you can, trying to not flash anyone on your way out and surprisingly, Mingi’s hands are in front of you, being offered for stability.
Pretend. You’re pretending.
You take his hands, his fingers swallowing yours as his rings gouge your skin like teeth, unforgiving.
The shouting begins and the flashes blind you as your feet find their stability on the red carpet.
“Mingi, Mingi, over here!”
“Y/N, what’s it like doing charity work?”
“Y/N! Mingi! Right here!”
His left hand leaves yours as he holds your hand with his right. This is weird. Everything is so weird. You’re supposed to be in love, though, you’re an actress, you can act.
You smile at him gently, him smiling tightly back at you.
San and Jongho guide you to your area on the carpet where you need to stand for pictures, and your ears are ringing at how many people are shouting at you.
Mingi guides you to his left side, arm curving around your waist, pulling you into his body.
Your breath hitches, hopefully going unknown to Mingi. He’s so close to you, his body is so warm, he smells like warm amber and smoky cedar and it’s intoxicating to you. Your arm has brushed against his bare skin and you can’t help but revel in how hot his skin is and how you can feel his muscles.
Mingi leans his head down, nose coming to bump the top of your ear, nuzzling gently. Fuck.
His mouth is next to your eardrum, breath hot and warming your own skin, goosebumps forming on your neck.
“Put your arm around my torso.” He whispers, voice low and husky.
You turn your head, noses bumping lightly and Mingi — thankfully, does not violently jerk back. He makes it look natural, smiling as he pulls away.
Your heart is pounding against your ribs, every thump threatening to crack the bones that keep your internal organs safe. What just happened?
Your mind goes blank, the only thing bouncing in your brain is the instruction to put your arm around Mingi’s torso.
You do so, your own skin meeting his, your fingers finding the dip of his waist and his finding yours. The pads of your fingers sting when they meet his skin.
It feels intimate, even though you’re standing here on the red carpet in front of hundreds of people, photos and videos being taken of your every move.
You move down the carpet, your name being yelled in your face and Mingi’s being yelled in his. Your arms become glued around Mingi’s body, but his own hands have been moving, roaming.
His fingers have danced around your waist, squeezing at your hips and it’s taking everything in you to continue to breathe.
It’s been so long since anyone of the opposite sex has touched you like this, been close to you like this and you feel like you’ve been thrown into a circus and been told to juggle.
You don’t know the first thing about juggling and you never will. You lost your virginity young, right as you got into your trainee period and to be frank — it wasn’t amazing. You two had no idea what you were doing, you didn’t prep long enough, it hurt when you guys started having sex, and you had no desire to relive that.
Maybe that’s where your strange emotions are coming from. Are you jealous that Mingi gets to go out and have sex whenever he wants? Maybe it’s because you’ve barely had any sex and know that if roles were reversed, you would be chastised for “handing it out to everyone.”
“Mingi! Mingi! Have you been cheating on Y/N?”
“Oppa! We love you!”
“Oppa, where’s your shirt?”
“Unnie, you’re stunning!”
“Y/N! How are you dealing with his violent outbursts?”
You sigh, but keep your smile and to play it up a little, tilt your head to the side to let it rest near Mingi’s shoulder.
Bright flashes get even faster and pretty soon, San and Jongho are guiding you guys inside the theater. Mingi gets a minute to rest while you are shooed back out onto the carpet to get group shots with your members and finally, you can breathe.
You can breathe while in the comfort of the girls that you have been with since the beginning. You’ve grown up together at this point and they know you like the back of their hand and vice versa.
Taking a moment, you look to your right, watching your members and something swells inside you at how far you’ve come. Regardless of what you’re having to deal with right now with Mingi, you are forever grateful they continue to walk by your side.
You’ve traveled the world with them, made incredible music and memories. You will always be grateful for your life with them.
When you’re all finished with the pictures, you sign a few autographs, ignoring any questions about Mingi and your relationship, just smiling and telling them “thank you for being here!”
When heading back into the theater, you find Mingi easily, talking with San and Jongho; Hongjoong has appeared from who knows where and Wooyoung is walking towards you and the girls.
“How’d it go? Everything good?” Wooyoung asks, seemingly out of breath as he comes towards you.
He seems to have been running around, making sure everything doesn’t fall apart at the slightest breeze. Wooyoung pauses, eyeing Mingi and what he’s wearing.
“Who allowed you to wear that? You know what — you look great, Mingi-yah.”
Your face drops as you were fully expecting Wooyoung to say something about how inappropriate his look is for an event like this.
The girls stand there, seemingly understanding your frustration and Harin comes up to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and leaning her head against you.
She smells sweet like cherries and you hug her back, squeezing your eyes shut. You can practically feel Mingi’s eyes burning into the side of your face, but you ignore it. You genuinely do not have the ability to draw attention to it.
Sitting next to him for the movie is actually the easiest part of the night. You are not supposed to be talking to one another (easy) and you don’t touch each other either, honestly if the whole relationship was like this, you might be okay with the arrangement.
The movie makes you emotional, seeing new clips of your Rebels that were taken at stops of your tour. They all talk about how much you and the girls mean to them, saying you’ve helped them through hard times, you feel real as opposed to some of these other idol groups, and that you feel like friends.
Your fans are amazing and after hearing so many of them talk about what it’s actually like being your fan, you can’t help but choke up, tears brimming the rim of your eyes.
You feel something against the back of your hand and when you look down, Mingi is handing you a tissue.
You briefly look at his face, his eyes focused on the movie, and look back down at the tissue, taking it.
Lightly, you dab at your eyes to not disturb the makeup that Yeosang worked so hard on.
The rest of the movie continues to make you emotional and actually allows you to take a different look at your life. It shows you truly how hard everyone on your team works for you and the girls, how hard you and the girls work for each other too.
As the movie comes to an end, you get up to leave with your team, trying to breathe normally when Mingi places his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowds.
This act is proving to be very gentlemanly and it makes you wonder what kind of lengths Mingi would go to for someone he is actually romantically interested in.
Of course, you’re only talking about the simple move of him guiding you through a crowd — but it shouldn’t be looked over.
People are weaving in and out of each other, flashes from cameras are blinding you, people constantly trying to get your attention as the body guards do their best to make sure you all get out of the crowds safely.
Mingi’s hold on you tightens as he places you in front of him, both hands firmly gripping your hips. The feeling of that makes your body ache with something you’ve never felt before.
The front of his body is pressed up tightly against your back, hands on your hips, presence towering over yours. If this were any different situation, it would have you swooning.
“Mingi! Mingi! Is Y/N just another pretty face to fuck, then forget?”
“Y/N plays innocent for the cameras, but we all know a whore in glam is still a whore!”
Mingi freezes.
His fingers dig painfully into your hips and you gasp in surprise at the pressure, turning to face Mingi.
His expression is one you would never want turned on you. It’s dark, menacing, and downright evil. His jaw is set incredibly tight and he breaks from your little bubble, pushing past the security and bystanders.
Your heart drops suddenly, watching the scene unfold in slow motion. Horror is probably written all over your face as you come to the sudden realization of what is about to happen.
Chaos interrupts as Mingi punches the reporter in the face. Over and over and over.
“You wanna fucking say that again? Don’t ever have my girls name in your mouth ever again!” Mingi is practically growling.
Your heart is pounding in your ears, so loud that everything else fades away and that’s all you can hear. Your eyes are so wide that they almost feel like they’re gonna burst out of your sockets.
The reporter lands a few punches to Mingi’s face too, and you’re standing there in complete shock as someone grabs you by the arm.
You’re being pulled away from the scene but you basically dig your heels in, yelling his name.
“Mingi, stop! Stop it!” You scream into your throat is raw, but the last thing you see before getting shoved into a company car is spit flying as Mingi yells at the reporter and goes in for another punch.
Jihyo has been knocking at your door gently for the last thirty minutes. Your phone is blowing up with mentions on various social media sites. Your stomach rolls at the idea of what kinds of things are being said online right now — there were countless phones and cameras in attendance tonight so there is no getting out of this.
San and Wooyoung are in your living room, doing damage control.
It’s only been an hour since the whole thing between Mingi and the reporter transpired, but it feels like it happened so long ago. You’ve been sitting with your dangerous thoughts since being placed in the backseat of a car and haven’t heard anything about Mingi.
You’re worried, of course you are. You have no idea what’s going on right now and your fingers have been chewed raw, the inside of your mouth coated with nothing but a metallic coating.
You threw up immediately upon arriving home, having some time to digest the whole situation. Jihyo sat idly by you and rubbed at your back, whispering things to you in an attempt to calm you down.
You’ve been angry — what Mingi did tonight was selfish. It was special moment for your group and he went and made it about himself because he couldn’t control his emotions. You’ve been upset, you’ve been worried, you’ve been sad.
You feel like you’ve gone through the whole spectrum of emotions in such a short amount of time, you’re incredibly exhausted.
Being an idol, you’re used to almost everything the public has to say about you. You are for the most part, very widely loved, but there will always be those people who have something different to say.
Why did Mingi react that way? Surely, he’s heard worse about himself, and he doesn’t even like the idea of you. So why…just, why?
At the end of the night, you’ve still heard nothing about Mingi.
San and Wooyoung just said to wait for further instruction in the morning, before taking their leave for the night.
Wooyoung had knocked on your door, said “don’t worry about anything, okay?” and disappeared with a soft kiss to your forehead.
After they left, you had gone down into the kitchen to get a glass of water, being met with hushed confessions from your bandmates.
“I just…I’m worried about her and this whole arrangement. I don’t think it’s good for her mentally.” Heejin whispers.
“There’s nothing we can do about it, Jin-ah, it’s not our decision. It’s the company’s.” Jihyo states.
“She’s been so sad and angry, recently,” you hear Harin say. “I don’t like what Mingi-ssi is doing to her.”
You suck in a deep breath and the girls pause, recognizing you.
“Unnie?”
You step out from behind the wall, into the kitchen and take in all of their appearances. They’ve switched from their premiere outfits into comfy pajamas, hair still done and makeup still on.
You look the same, having ripped your dress off the minute you got home because you felt like you were suffocating and beginning to panic.
“I’m so sorry,” your bottom lip wobbles.
“What?”
“Why are you sorry?”
You’re gathered into their arms, them holding you as you cry.
This whole thing tonight is now weighing heavily down on you, making you feel overwhelmed. Maybe you’re not strong enough to deal with this contract, you should talk to Wooyoung about how you could maybe use this incident as something to break off your “relationship.”
They return to their rooms later, all giving you encouraging squeezes and leaving you in the kitchen. The water that you gulp down feels sharp with how cold it is, bringing you slightly out of your funk.
The cute little chime that someone is at your front door is heard throughout the apartment. You exhale harshly as you make your way over to where the panel is that shows who is at the door.
You almost drop your glass when you see who it is, in the flesh. Is he allowed to be here? He didn’t even text you.
You press the buzzer to let him into the building anyway, waiting for the next five minutes as he makes his way up to your floor and to your door.
Taking a minute to answer the door when you hear the ring, you splay your palm along the door, trying to ground yourself.
When pulling it open, your heart stutters in your chest.
Mingi is looking down at his feet, fists tucked into his jacket pockets. He’s dressed differently, actually wearing a shirt, for one — with some sweatpants and sneakers.
His face is practically black and blue. His lip is busted, dried blood caked underneath his nostrils, left eye swelling and purple.
“I know I didn’t text,” his voice is gravelly. Keheum. “Can I come in?”
You bite your lip, nodding gently as you open the door wider and let him pass through the doorway.
“Uh,” Mingi begins, sniffing. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
It seems like those words pain him to say and that almost makes you angry again, you don’t think he’s sorry and you just want to pull at the roots of your hair and scream at him.
But you don’t.
You cross your arms and stay silent.
Looking at his face, it’s obvious that no one chose to clean his face up after the fight, probably choosing to let him marinate in the choices he made tonight.
You tilt your head toward the kitchen in an unspoken way of telling him “follow me.”
He does, silently and when you get into the kitchen, you point to the table, making him sit. Obediently, Mingi pulls a chair out from the table and sits, eyes watching your every move.
The cabinet next to your fridge has a first-aid kit and you reach for it, bringing it down and over to the table.
The bright red of the casing catches Mingi’s feline-like eyes and he looks up at you.
“I didn’t come here for you to nurse me.”
“Just,” you snap. “Shut up. You ruined an important night for my group. Let me do this.”
He wets his lips, making a displeased face, but doesn’t say anything else.
You turn and pull out a kitchen towel, turning the faucet on to get some warm water. Once the towel is absorbed with warm water, you wring it out and pass it to Mingi.
“Hold it under your nose, I want to loosen the blood there.” You say quietly.
He takes the towel from you, fingers brushing yours and puts it under his nose. Opening the first-aid kit, you pull out the alcohol, some Q-tips, and some cotton pads.
You saturate the pads with alcohol, the scent stinging your nose. Turning to face Mingi, you take a deep breath. Your fingers shake lightly as you tilt Mingi’s face up, the stubble on his chin pricking your skin.
You’re very close to him, legs brushing his knees and you go to clean his split lip. His lips are plush, a perfect shade of pink that most people’s lips turn when being bitten. The thought shocks you and makes you push the alcohol soaked cotton hard into his lip without meaning to.
He hisses the second the pad hits the abused, open wound, probably stinging badly, and he jerks back.
“Stay still,” you say, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him back.
Your fingers are at the nape of his neck, feeling the soft ends of his hair. Everything about this moment feels a bit too intimate.
You dab at his lip again and he does his best to not jerk away from you.
As you finish with his lip, you put some antibiotic ointment on it, then go to pull the kitchen towel away from his nose. Luckily, it softened the blood enough for you to be able to clean it with a few Q-tips.
His hot breath is hitting your knuckles, and suddenly, you feel too close. You two are too quiet, Mingi’s dark eyes watching you intently as you swab at the blood. Up close and personal, you focus in on the freckle directly underneath Mingi’s right eye. It’s actually quite endearing you think.
As you finish up, you look down and notice how swollen and bruised his own knuckles are. You back up, gathering all of the dirty swabs and such, throwing them in the trash before grabbing another kitchen towel and an ice pack.
You wrap the ice pack tightly, but thinly in the cloth and walk back over to the rapper sitting at your kitchen table. Handing it to him, a little quirk pops up in between his eyebrows, seemingly confused.
You just nod towards his hands and he follows the gesture, silently pressing the ice pack to his battered bones.
You have no idea what to say, what does one say? Here in your kitchen is playboy, problematic rapper Song Mingi who threw punches for you tonight over some random comments, and things are just supposed to be the same between you two?
You don’t like Mingi. You will never like Mingi, but it is possible that this moment has shifted things into unknown territory. How do you move past this?
“What happened tonight?” You ask quietly, not wanting to break the vulnerable atmosphere you two had just entered.
“Honestly?”
“No, I want you to lie to me.”
Mingi rolls his eyes at the tone of your voice. “He crossed a line. That’s it. Don’t read into it.”
You purse your lips, turning around to pull out your own chair and sit. Even when you’re both sitting on the same level, Mingi still towers over you, but instead of it being intimidating, you try to welcome it.
“A line that’s only okay for you to cross? You’ve said horrible things to me too, Mingi.”
He nods, laughing bitterly. The ice pack gets discarded on the table, a thunk echoing. His head bobs up and down as he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He starts fiddling with his rings, something you notice is maybe an anxiety thing for him.
“I didn’t want to deal with you getting under my skin and you started to. That doesn’t make what I said okay. I’ve said shit I didn’t mean just to hurt you.”
Mingi looks up and you hope he can’t see how torn internally you are.
This is not a side of Mingi you expected to see. You wanted to be angry, tell him that he’s an idiot and made everything about himself when it was supposed to be important for your group. But, you have a fault here too, and maybe you riled him up a bit more than you should’ve in the limo.
You should’ve shown restraint, shown that you are the bigger person.
“Look, he had no right to talk about you like that. It doesn’t matter that we don’t like each other, what he said…” he trails off. “It wasn’t just some headline, it was disgusting, and it was a false depiction of who you are.”
“So you thought throwing a punch would fix the whole situation?” You ask incredulously.
Mingi’s eyes sharpen, body stiffening. “I didn’t think—”
“Exactly!” You throw your hands up in the air, exasperated. “You didn’t think and that’s your problem.”
“I’ve taken hits for less.”
“Mingi, that’s not the point!” You start yelling, frustration building as you realize he’s not getting it.
Maybe you’re not getting it, either.
Mingi snorts, shaking his head and stands. “You know what? You’re right.”
The heat in his voice is gone, tone flat and you would almost prefer that he yell at you. It’s steady in a scary way.
“I don’t think. Clearly. But, I wasn’t going to stand there and let him say that shit about you. Not when you didn’t do anything to deserve it.” He shrugs, standing from the chair, making it so that you have to look up even further at him.
It almost feels demeaning, even if that’s not his intention. He sucks his teeth, trying to act nonchalant before he looks down at you, a menacing twinkle in his eyes.
“Don’t get it twisted though, I still don’t like you. I still don’t want anything to do with you.”
Those words cut through you like a hot knife through butter, scorching your insides.
“Copy, ditto,” you say, looking away to seem as if you don’t care. Because you don’t. You absolutely do not care about his words.
“Don’t make it more than what it is, got it?”
You raise your eyebrows and then nod, turning around to make sure that the girls aren’t lingering in the hall. When you turn back around, Mingi looks like he’s going for the door.
You don’t want to say what you think you should, but again, even if you don’t want to, you should. You think about Wooyoung and how you haven’t been the most easy person for him to be manager too.
“Mingi?” You call, eyes shutting tightly before you open them back up.
Mingi’s footsteps halt and you can hear him taking his shoes off again, before walking back into the kitchen.
“Do you want to come up with our story?” You ask, hearing how tired your tone is.
Mingi pauses for a minute, crossing his arms over his broad chest and looks at you, tongue coming out to wet his lips.
He sends you a smirk and you realize that you can read him better now, understanding that he’s saying yes.
You take a deep breath, stand up, and guide him to your living room. Let the planning begin.
Your laptop is getting hot on your lap, working hard.
You’ve typed word after word as you and Mingi have come up with your story, trying to memorize it and make it seem as hole-less as possible. The words blur together and you sigh loudly, slightly frustrated as your eyes burn.
You push your fingertips into your eye sockets, trying to relieve the burning pressure behind them. Mingi’s own eyes burn into the side of your face and you want to snap at him. He’s made himself right at home on your couch, all spread out and lounging for the last two hours you’ve been here.
“I can’t look at this anymore, I’m going to go insane,” you finally say, snapping your laptop shut and the whirring comes to a halt.
Mingi’s mouth is slightly open as he looks at you, eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Where did we meet, dollface?” Mingi asks and your skin crawls.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Where did we meet, angel?”
You narrow your eyes at him, trying to seem threatening. You don’t think it’s working.
“Backstage at the MMA’s last year. You had just won an award and I was preparing for a performance.”
That part was easy because it wasn’t a lie. That’s where the both of you met in person for the first time. Mingi had paid very little attention to you as you had placed your in-ears around your neck.
You had seen him backstage, looking attractive in the dim lighting, but your attraction fell short when he pulled out a dime bag, dipping his finger into it and then sticking his finger into his mouth.
His tongue had moved around inside his mouth, pushing against his cheeks to maximize the effect.
You had rolled your eyes in disgust and turned away as he boasted about being undefeated in the K-Hip Hop section the last four years in a row. His arrogance was not sexy to you.
“And then?” Mingi pushed.
“Not sure, you tell me,” you challenge, pushing your foot into the side of his thigh.
“I thought you looked beautiful as you got ready to go onstage and I walked up and asked for your number.”
“I was so shocked and pressed for time, you never got my number, so you stayed backstage until my performance was over and continued to bother me for it.”
“Finally, you caved with cherry-red cheeks and the rest is history.”
“Well,” you tilt your head, “not sure about the cherry-red cheeks and the rest is definitely not history according to the four pages of notes I’ve just written down.”
Mingi gives you a dull expression before looking around, grabbing the pink fuzzy throw pillow next to him and pelting you with it.
“Hey!” You screech, unamused.
“Why do you have to be so literal? We’re good.” His voice has grown even heavier and you wonder if he’s gotten tired.
You can imagine that after the day he’s had with a physical assault, he would be tired. The silence around you has begun to cushion the air and you’re settled into something comfortable. So comfortable, you almost feel like you could let your guard down and just fall asleep — the idea tempting you dangerously.
Never in a million years, did you think that one day, you would be comfortable enough to fall asleep around Song Mingi, but after today, you’ve lost the ability to give a fuck.
For a second, you do think you’ve dozed off, but Mingi has moved your foot in an attempt to get your attention. You hum in answer, head still thrown back against the couch and eyes closed.
“What’s your favorite color?”
The question catches you so off guard, you almost think you didn’t hear him correctly.
“What?”
“Your favorite color,” he shrugs nonchalantly, picking at some lint that is on his sweatpants.
“Why?”
You can feel him roll his eyes, even if you can’t see them.
“I’m your boyfriend.”
“You are—” your eyes fly open and you sit up abruptly. “You are not my boyfriend.”
“Do I really have to say fake boyfriend? You get it, right?”
“You’re still not my boyfriend.”
Mingi laughs, reaching up to run his bruised fingers through his black hair. “Trust me, I don’t want to be your boyfriend, jagiya.”
He looks at you, expecting an answer and you don’t want to give him one. You understand what he’s trying to do, but actually getting to know him makes everything very real. You would be getting into emotions and not just the flat, 2D version you two have been giving each other.
“Purple,” you say quietly, fixing your eyes on the hall where you see a light flick on underneath the door of Harin’s room.
“Cute,” Mingi says snarkily. “Mine’s blue.”
“Blue? Basic,” you scoff.
Mingi blinks, “it’s not basic. It’s not just any blue, it’s a deep, dark blue.”
“Yeah…basic. Don’t tell me your other favorite color is a cement gray.” You laugh.
Mingi doesn’t say anything, just pointedly looks away and you gawk goofily at him, chuckling.
“Oh my god, it so is!” You sit up, pulling your legs underneath you, getting more into the conversation.
“So what if it is? There’s nothing wrong with that color either!” Mingi argues with you, sticking his tongue out at you like a five-year-old.
“Nice, very mature.”
Mingi shakes his head, crossing his arms and tilting his head backwards until it rests along the back of the couch. “There’s nothing wrong with either of those colors. And I didn’t even say anything about your favorite color being purple. You wanna talk about basic favorite colors? Purple is as basic as it gets.”
“No, my favorite color is a lavender purple,” you correct him.
“Does that really change what I just said?”
“Okay, fine, we both have basic favorite colors. Whatever.”
“My colors are not basic, I will die on that hill,” Mingi points out.
“Great,” you exclaim. “Then go on, die.”
“Too late for that, sweetheart.”
The air shifts, curdling heavy and your blood runs cold. What? What does he mean by that? Is he joking or did he just slip up and let out something he probably had no intention of telling you? You swallow a million questions down, red flashing warnings popping up in your vision.
You can tell that Mingi didn’t mean to say anything because his whole body stiffens. Noticing that detail, you choose not to say anything about it. It’s none of your business anyway. His words hang heavily in the air though, sitting like smoke that you aren’t able to fan away.
His body language is telling you not to push. Don’t push. Too soon.
But for some reason, you want to know and then you quickly decide that you are too nosy. When you don’t say anything, the tension seems to bleed out of Mingi’s body slowly, so you take that as a good sign that it was the smart decision not to bring attention to it.
The silence stretches for a bit longer than it seems either one of you would like and your heart is starting to beat faster against your chest, pushing you to ease the mood.
“Well, mister dark and mysterious, let’s get back to the important stuff before you fall asleep on my couch.” You clap your hands together, trying to dissipate the stale vibes.
Mingi raises his head, blinking at you sluggishly, a sparkle of relief flickering across his face for a second before he masks it with a lazy smirk.
“Important stuff?” He echoes.
You pull the pillow that he threw at you into your lap, hugging it to the front of your body. You’re trying to distract yourself from the thought that this is the longest you’ve had a conversation with Mingi without arguing. It feels weird, not in a bad way, but definitely weird.
“Yeah, like my coffee order. Because the whole internet knows my coffee order so if you get that wrong, we’re screwed real bad.”
“Is it the same drink you ordered on our ‘first date’?” He uses air quotation marks around first date.
You nod, “do you even remember?”
Mingi clears his throat and thinks for a second. “I don’t remember exactly but it was probably some fucking complicated drink that the poor barista who’s sixteen shits their pants at. Sugar free-syrup, half decaf, hot but with ice, almond-milk—” He teases in a high-pitched voice that you’re assuming is supposed to be you.
You laugh at how ridiculous he’s being, but not because you think it’s funny. “Wrong.” You glare at him, “it was an iced vanilla latte, easy, you asshole. One might even say simple.”
“Simple? You? Give me a fucking break.”
You take the pillow that’s in your lap like a shield and bring it up, leaning forward to smack Mingi in the head with it. He laughs menacingly, the sound rough and low in his chest. He grabs the pillow from you with a force that almost makes you blush, then tosses it back into your lap.
“Okay, miss simple, what’s my order then?”
You think back to your date and a smirk comes over your own face as you reply. “Iced Americano.”
Mingi lets out a dramatic gasp, hand coming up to his chest. “That’s crazy that my own girlfriend doesn’t even know me.”
You frown because he is the one who is wrong and he’s just trying to mess with you.
“That’s literally what you got on our date!” You call him out.
He shrugs. “I like iced Americanos, but that’s not my go-to coffee order.”
You roll your eyes, lips twitching in annoyance because you don’t even know if you should trust him on this.
“Enlighten me then, our golden boy.”
“Caramel macchiato, hot, extra shot. Sometimes iced if I am feeling particularly dangerous.”
You laugh, genuinely this time because Song Mingi is the most ridiculously annoying person you have ever met.
“Dangerous?” You repeat. “You think ordering a drink iced makes you dangerous?”
“No,” he says seriously. “That’s not what makes me feel dangerous.”
That weird feeling comes back, settling amongst you and you think that’s enough for tonight. Your skin is starting to itch at the idea of spending any more time with Mingi because right now, you don’t hate it and it’s starting to make you confused.
Glancing at the clock, you are surprised to see how late it is and you stifle a yawn. Today has been very draining and honestly, the fight that happened between Mingi and the reporter feels like weeks ago.
“I better get going,” Mingi suddenly says, rocking forward and up off the couch.
You nod, licking your lips and get up to follow him to the door. As he puts his shoes on, your fingers twitch, a quiet voice whispering in the back of your mind.
You bite your lip, unsure of what you should do about the voice, but ultimately, you follow it. You walk forward, catching Mingi by surprise when you swing your arms up around him, hugging him.
He smells clean, fresh, like linens and vanilla.
His body is stiff underneath your hug and you try to not let it affect you in any way. He never hugs you back, which is okay, but something inside you comes together at this gesture.
“Thank you for defending me,” you whisper and let go of him immediately after.
Mingi has no emotion on his face that you can see, remaining stoic and stony. It leaves you feeling a little empty.
Keheum comes from the back of throat and he sniffs, reaching up to itch the side of face.
“See you later, angel,” he says softly and then the door closes with a schnick behind him.
Later, in bed, you finally muster up the courage to look at social media.
Comments range from what the FUCK is wrong with him??? to he was protecting his girlfriend y’all need to shut the fuck up.
You stumble across videos after videos on TikTok about the actual fight that occurred; your stomach turns and you rapidly try and skip over every single one. There’s one video that makes you stop though, pausing to watch it.
It’s a video of just before the fight happened, someone had slightly edited the clips, putting trendy music over it. It’s interesting for you to see it as an outsider, watching the way Mingi protects you through the crowd, guiding you through in a way that feels real.
You know that everything is fake, but from this angle, the way he’s holding you, that looks incredibly real. You suppose that’s the goal, but still, it’s kind of astonishing to you.
The comments are nothing but supportive in that video, saying how cute you two are, Mingi is so protective over you, etc., etc.
You sigh, your eyes drooping and you finally call it quits. You turn off your phone, turning over onto your left side and pull the covers up around your shoulders to hopefully get some much needed rest.
A week.
It’s been a week since everything has transpired and you haven’t heard anything from Mingi, which you guess is a good thing.
Wooyoung has checked in on you multiple times, saying that you and the girls are pretty much on a break after your world tour, allowing you to actually have down time, for now.
You know that you’re supposed to be on a break, but you’ve been writing songs. When inspiration hits, it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. The song you’re currently writing is different than other things you’ve put out. This song is entirely in English, speaking about the way you’ve almost been play with like a doll.
You don’t know if it’ll ever meet the light of day, but maybe one day, you could find an appropriate time to record and release it.
You’ve written three other songs today, one of them in collaboration with your other members, coming up with a song that fits your friendship well. The song is called “RIGHT HAND GIRL” and hopefully, that’s the one you can add to an upcoming album — maybe a recording session is in your near future for this album you haven’t written, but want to stick this song onto.
You’re chewing on the end of a pen, over the ear headphones on, volume up as the beat you just made for this specific song bounces through your ear drums. The plastic bends underneath the weight of your teeth and you replace a synth sound with another, dragging things around on your software.
Feeling a hand touch your left shoulder, you let out a yelp, heart pounding as you turn around.
Jihyo’s face is sheepish, holding up her hands in defense.
“Sorry! Sorry! You were really in the zone, I had no idea how to get your attention.”
You place a hand against your chest, trying to ease your rapid heartbeat.
“It’s fine,” you say, pulling off your headphones and turning your attention to your bandmate.
She has a certain look on her face, one she usually has when something has happened — something not positive.
“Is everything okay?” You ask, voice quiet.
She pulls her lips together in a tight expression and she reaches into her hoodie pocket to pull her phone out. Jihyo’s phone lights up when her screen turns on and she takes a deep breath before she hands her phone to you.
“Exclusive: Mingi’s Ex Speaks Out – ‘Our Love Wasn’t Real, and Neither Is This One.’”
Your eyes pop out of your head, reading the headline. Reading the first paragraph basically has the room spinning for you.
What the fuck? You want to scream.
“There were times when his temper scared me. He was never violent towards me, but he would slam doors and yell. The way his eyes would change was scary…it made me feel like I was walking on eggshells. People see this charming, hot, talented rapper on stage. I saw the late night version of him — the one who abuses substances, the mood swings, and cruel words….I don’t know Y/N personally, but I know how convincing he is. Mingi is such a magnetic person, the kind of man that makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the entire world. But, I often felt manipulated, like my feelings were just a game to him. When I saw all the headlines about his new girl and seeing it was our very own sweetheart, made me wonder if she’s another pawn in his game. Looking at the timing of this relationship, and with the saint of a person he’s now with, right after all these scandals…it makes you wonder if it’s love or just an attempt to salvage his career.”
“Oh my fucking GOD!” You cry. No way this is happening. But, of course this would fucking happen.
Nothing has been easy the second you walked into this contract and it’s honestly making you feel like you’re insane. Everything you’ve worked for, the reputation you’ve built while being truthful to yourself and to your fans, feels like it’s crumbling down around you.
This is your Pompeii, essentially.
The comments make you crazy.
+ 3,987 -1,901
honestly…this makes so much sense, the timing was way too convenient
+2,781 -456
imagine dating south korea’s sweetheart just to cover up your own scandals!!! gross and y/n deserves better
+ 1,876 - 657
y/n deserves better than to be used as a shield for his reputation ㅠㅠ
+ 5,002 – 523
exes always pop up when idols are thriving, i don’t think that’s a coincidence
+ 4,126 – 237
mingi doesn’t owe us any details about his personal life, leave him the fuck alone you guys are so gross
+ 235 - 87
she’s just better he moved on
+ 2,005 – 432
i bet y/n is in on this, more publicity for her upcoming movie
Nope, no, no, this is not happening. Mingi wants to fuck things up for you? He wants to use your image? Then he better fix what he’s ruining in real time.
You thrust Jihyo’s phone back into her hands, frantically searching around your room for your purse and car keys.
“Where are you going, Y/N?” Jihyo asks, voice trembling.
“I am going to shove my fist up Mingi’s ass and make him regret the day he was fucking born. Don’t wait up for me.”
You rush down the hall, shoving some slippers onto your feet and exiting the apartment in a frenzy.
Your phone is blowing up, message after message from Wooyoung, San, your group chat with the girls, mentions on social media.
royalty forever rinrin: unnie don’t do anything rash please ㅠㅠ love you heejinie: let us know if you need backup, we will gladly come to your aid zyozyo: love you.
manager youngie: I am trying to fix things, don’t do anything. I am so serious Y/N, don’t test me on this.
Too late, you think.
You get into your car and start the engine, typing out a message to someone you didn’t think you would ever have to message.
you: give me mingi’s address Choi Jongho(KQ PR): 88 Apgujeong-ro 79-gil, Gangnam District, Penthouse. Gate code is 9871. Choi Jongho(KQ PR): Please don’t kill him, he’s very talented and makes us lots of money. I guess he’s a friend too, but please spare his life.
You ignore the message and plug the address into your navigation system, driving down the street to an unknown situation. The whole drive is silent there, giving you an inkling of how absolutely livid you are about this whole thing.
Pulling up to the building, you get out of your car, and head to the front entrance, putting in the code.
It buzzes open, the cool metal stinging the palm of your hand as you open the inner door. The lobby is minimalist, clean, rich. The elevator is large and almost sterile-like as you step in, clicking the penthouse button and inputting the same code as the front gate to get the elevator to move.
It takes a full three minutes to reach Mingi’s apartment and the second you exit the elevator, you go straight to the door.
The headline is burned into the back of your retinas as you furiously pound on the heavy door of the penthouse. You don’t know how long you sit there and hammer your fist against the wood, but your hand tingles as you assault it against the surface.
The door finally swings open and you have so many curse words at the tip of your tongue, readied in your arsenal. You shut your mouth though, the second you see that it’s not Mingi who answered the door.
It’s another man, probably around the same age as you and Mingi. He’s shirtless, black hair messy and ruffled as if he has just rolled out of bed or someone has been running their fingers tightly through his hair. Maybe both.
You’re frozen in place, almost feeling humiliated. Did Jongho send you the wrong address? There is only one penthouse, right? Nervously, your fingers twitch and your hands come up to grip the strap of your purse.
“Um—”
“Oh, you must be the girlfriend.” The man’s voice is low, gravelly, giving you a lazy smile.
Your blood runs cold. Who is this guy? “Excuse me?”
Before the guy in front of you can answer, you see Mingi’s presence appear behind the mystery man, pulling a hoodie on over his own shirtless chest. His expression shifts from confusion to anger the second he lays eyes on you.
Mingi comes up behind the man, nuzzling gently into the side of his neck, leaving a wet kiss at the curve of his shoulder.
You almost look away, feeling as if this is something you should not be watching/seeing.
“Why the fuck are you here?” Mingi asks, whispering something to the man before he continues. “I told you to text before you came over. That wasn’t a negotiation.”
“Why the fuck am I here? Why the fuck is he here?” You demand, your voice sharp and cutting through whatever residual sexual air is between the two of them. “Do you have any idea what’s blowing up right now and I find you here, screwing some guys’ brains out while you’re simultaneously screwing me over!”
“Careful angel,” Mingi warns.
“Don’t call me that! Let me in.” You argue, arms flailing.
Mingi steps aside, bringing the man with him to allow you in.
“You know what’s so rich, Mingi?” You scoff, laughing in a way that makes you sound mentally insane. “From where I’m standing, I am fucking tanking my career for a fake relationship while you’re busy proving the world right about you.”
The silence sticks in the air heavy after those words. Mingi narrows his eyes meanly, sucking his teeth as he crosses his arms over his chest. Tilting his head, he seems almost like he’s contemplating something. The man that’s here shifts uncomfortably and looks at Mingi.
“Yunho-yah, can you give us a minute please?” Mingi asks softly to the man — Yunho — and Yunho nods, disappearing up the stairs. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here? Your ex is fucking trashing us in the press, trying to make us look like fake fools. Now, thousands of people are doubting our entire relationship, so I came here to make you deal with it, because you need to fix this and I find you messing everything up and with your little fuck buddy?”
You take in Mingi’s appearance; his own hair is ruffled too, skin slightly pale, nose red, eyes dark — they’re so much darker than normal, his pupils are blown completely wide to the edges and his gaze is unfocused.
Suddenly, Mingi lets out a humorless laugh and it brings a chill down your spine. You didn’t like that one bit.
“You really are the nation’s sweetheart. Always so perfect. Always trying to fix everyone else. Always so worried about what everyone else thinks.”
“I am not trying to fix everyone else! I am trying to fix you because your fucking company gave me a contract that I wasn’t allowed to say no to. I was dragged into your stupid fucking mess of a life and a career and you can’t even keep it together long enough to not make me look like an idiot!”
“I didn’t ask you to save me,” Mingi’s voice is sharp, so sharp it could cut through glass. It certainly feels like he’s slicing through your skin.
You are bleeding through the cuts that Mingi has made verbally on your skin, stinging you.
“You’re un-fucking-believable. You’re humiliating me. I am being seen as another possible pawn in your game, Song Mingi, and as someone who doesn’t know her boyfriend is screwing other people when everyone else knows it.”
“Nobody knows shit, you didn’t even know he was here—” Mingi starts, but then throws his hands up in exasperation. “What does it matter to you who I fuck when the cameras aren’t around? It’s not like you’re going to suck my dick for me, huh? You’re too busy polishing that perfect image of yours to get dirty. Wouldn't want your halo to get dented, right?"
Mingi has been holding a verbal sword this entire conversation, waving it around to show you that he can use it better than you can and with each strike, you’ve grown weaker and weaker. This last comment was the final blow, spearing you open, allowing your guts to slide out of your body, onto the floor beneath you.
Your eyes narrow as you hold back a few choked tears, noticing the glassiness in his eyes, mixed with his blown pupils and unfocused gaze. Suddenly, it clicks in your brain, the pieces coming together.
“You’re fucking high,” you whisper, those words chilling you to the bone. “Of course you’re high right now.”
His face twists a cruel smile onto his lips. “What? Are you gonna add that to your list of reasons you’re better than me?”
“No, Mingi,” you puff out. “I’m adding it to the list of reasons of why you’re going to pull me down into the crater I’m trying to get you out of.”
Those words seem to hit him in a jagged way, so he stays silent for a while. Between the both of you, you could probably hear a pin drop and your blood is whooshing loudly in your ears, making you flush hotly.
Mingi sucks his bottom lip in, stepping towards you. You swallow thickly as he comes into your space, engulfing you in musky coconut scent. You’re beginning to think that’s his signature scent and it genuinely feels intoxicating to you.
A look flashes across his face.
“You know what? If people are doubting us right now, then let’s give them something not to doubt.”
Before you can ask what the hell he meant, he steps even further into your space, clogging your lungs with his scent and in a split second, his mouth was on yours — rough, rushed, but long enough for you to feel how soft and plush his lips are.
The click of the camera on his phone is louder than the gasp you let out, your fingers fisting into the front of Mingi’s sweatshirt.
His tongue gently licks at the bottom of your lip and you grip even tighter, so in shock.
He tastes like vanilla and eucalyptus.
When he pulls away, you’re left dazed, your lips basically chasing his until you shake your head to clear your mind.
Mingi has his phone in his hand, fingers running across the screen before they stop and he looks up.
“There, posted, and now no one will question us. At least for a little while—”
You stumble backwards, lips wet with Mingi’s saliva as a large wave of nausea curls in the bottom of your stomach.
“Are you insane?”
“No, I’m a genius from where I’m standing. Isn’t this what you signed up for, dollface? Play my girlfriend and make it look real? Well, I’m making it real and you’re throwing a fit.”
What Mingi doesn’t seem to understand, especially when he’s high out of his mind, is that this isn’t a game. It might be to him — but for you, this is your career, your reputation, your image that your crafted to be the best parts of you.
For Mingi, right now, this was him high and reckless, using your mouth, your face, your status in order to save his own skin.
“This is going to end up in flames, Mingi, and it’s going to be your fault.” You point your finger accusingly at him before you turn around, leaving his apartment and getting into the elevator.
You pull at the roots of your hair, trying to stimulate something other than the mental torture you’re currently going through. You’re angry, you’re upset, you’re delirious, you’re frustrated; you’re thinking about how Mingi tastes and what it would be like to taste him again.
You’re thinking about how that vanilla and eucalyptus would feel all over your body, lips dragging across your skin.
Oh fuck, you are so screwed.
PLEASE support your creators by REBLOGGING and leaving comments!
hope you all enjoyed! pt 3 soon <3
also if you saw typos no you didn't lol I have gone crosseyed trying to edit this document
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taglist: @morbidollette@jiminbility@miracle-sol@bibliophileyungi@whyismingi @jooholicx @mzngi @neosfam @xmariakx @nymphateez @cherrysainttt @hanjizoesupremacy @ramadiiiisme @gojonish
too big | j.yh 정윤호
tags + warnings: 18+ mdni, huge!yunho x small!reader, size kink, breeding kink, short drabble
synopsis: yunho’s huge, everything about him is huge, and it’s all fun and games until -
a/n: really think yunho would do this tbh, making you feel small and helpless as you take him so well :((
୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
messy bangs and sweat dripping down his forehead, he attempted to breach your entrance. you gasped “s’big…nnnngh…too big” His red veiny tip was barely through your folds and you were already blabbering incoherently, nails digging into his back. as if it wasn’t enough, he grabbed your thighs and hooked it over his shoulder, setting you up in a mating press, trapping you in the sheets. now there’s no escape. “shhh..you can take this princess c’mon”. He pressed a gentle and light kiss on your forehead, “it’s gonna fit. I’ll make it fit.” he whispers, wrapping his left hand around your tiny waist, hands so huge that it covered the majority of your waistline. he put his right hand on your mouth, and in one snap, he sinks his entire length into your heat. you let out a muffled scream, eyes rolling backwards, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You swear you felt your walls tear from the stretch. “s-so mean..yunho meanie….nnnngh..hurts” he smiles innocently at your broken words “but I made it fit princess” he takes your left hand that was helplessly gripping the sheets, and placed it on top of your belly, and that’s when you felt it. a bulge in your stomach. his huge bulge. he lets out a groan of relief, burying his low moans against the crook of your neck. “m’gonna breed you so full, so so full.”
𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 — 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪
⤷ You almost lost your life not once but twice, yet the heavens had other plans for you. Blessed with another chance to live, you built yourself from the ground up and changed yourself for the better. Things were going great for you until an intruder showed up in your place—your first love, who had betrayed you.
pirate!mingi x princess!reader ft. pirate!ateez, pirate au, exes-to-lovers, rebirth, revenge, slow burn(?), heavy heavy angst, humor in some parts, fluff at the end
warning ━━ profanities, mentions of blood, use of weapons, near death experience, toxic family members, deaths, long flashbacks, timelapses, misunderstandings, may not be historically accurate, emotionally heavy (a big warning)
word count ━━ 31.2k (sorry not sorry)
playlist ━━ I don't wanna live forever - zayn, taylor swift | vigilante shit - taylor swift | catch fire - 5 seconds of summer | imgonnagetyouback - taylor swift | die with a smile - lady gaga, bruno mars
a/n ━━ First of all, I apologize for the very late update. A lot has happened the past year, so I had to put this on hold for a while. This is another story inspired by my dreams, and this might be my favorite work that I have written so far. I just love everything about this, and the length says it all.
𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁
"Jongho's team to the village; Wooyoung and Yeosang to the shore. Seonghwa's team, come with me to the headquarters. Position yourselves to your assigned areas; remember what we trained for." You announced to the intercom that resounded around the building.
pretty woman | JYH pt. 2
part 3 of the Night in Hollywood!series
☆ trope: 1990s inspired au, sugarbaby and rich older man, contract relationship
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26), snobby ppl r rude to reader, SMUT — groping, oral m receiving, choking, teabagging, swallowing, face stuffing, cum play, wearing lingerie, petnames, overstím, yunho is big pervert, manhandIing, size differences, loserforhisgf!yunho, overstimulation (kinda both), lots of praise kink
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multibillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called 'land of dreams'. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .
☆ playlist: material girl by maddona, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v,
☆ a/n: thanks for all the interest! please don't forget to reblog:)
☆ word count: 10k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
AFTER A MUCH NEEDED COLD SHOWER, followed by drying your hair and changing your clothes, you situate yourself comfortably onto Yunho’s king sized bed, swimming in the sheets and leaning against the soft pillows with a happy, satisfied hum.
This grand, empty penthouse was now yours, and when the realization hits, it can only make you shuffle your bare legs and smile with content.
You could definitely get used to this.
You turn to see Yunho’s credit card was still placed on the bedside table nearby, hesitating for a moment before reaching over to grab it. The shiny lettering stares back at you as your thumb brushes over it, contemplating what to buy first for your dinner date tonight.
There was so much you wanted to do. You needed a dress, shoes, new makeup and definitely a few new pairs of underwear if you were going to stay for the couple following days.
With a faint idea of who to ask for help inside your head, you sit up to dial a number into the hotel phone, biting your nail as you wait for the other line to answer.
Moments pass, and for a split second you think she won’t answer until a groggy but familiar voice finally picks up.
“Hello?”
You let out a breath of relief. “Miko!” You cheerfully called out, twisting the curled telephone wire and leaning against the headboard.
“You won’t even guess what has happened to me.”
A faint yawn is heard over the line, the sound of objects clattering and curses spilling out of your half-awake roommate as she balances the phone against her ear.
Miko doesn’t think much of it, shuffling to lay back down under a hamburger wrapper she apparently fell asleep with, before mumbling back into the phone.
“Just tell me what it is”
“Look, I met this insane guy who—”
“Let me guess, he tried to cop a feel so you punched him back and now you’re calling me while locked up in the police station so I can bail you out” she responded in a bored manner, a headache drilling into her skull from the open curtains directing sunlight in your living room flat.
You shook your head, the excitement audible in your tone.
“Way better than that”
Miko sits up, sighing. “Where are you anyways? You said you’d come back last night with Hime’s milk” she mumbled, talking about her chubby black cat.
You shake your head at your roommate, grinning.
“I am sitting in the 50th story penthouse of the Beverly Hills Hotel, because I’ve just been promised eight thousand dollars to spend the next few days with some billionaire!”
The half-sober girl hits her head against the coffee table from surprise while reaching for a bottle of water.
“No fucking way!” she mutters with disbelief, rubbing the bump on her forehead.
“How did you even meet this guy?”
“Y’know that dingy gas station towards the end of the Boulevard?” you explained enthusiastically. “I helped him from getting robbed there”
Kumiko lifts one of her brows. “Robbed?”
You realize how it sounds, but proceed to insist it was a long story.
“Listen, I don’t have much time cause he’s taking me to dinner tonight. He’s left me his credit card and all, but I have no idea where to shop” you state, looking at the piece of plastic in your left hand.
“Said he wanted something elegant, or some crap” you muttered, rolling your eyes.
“Do you have any idea where to go?”
You hear a scoff come from the other end of the line, your roommate being appalled by your little knowledge of the city. You can already picture her smirking face when she responds back.
“Rodeo Drive, baby.”
After your call with Kumiko—who, in her usual blunt charm, shared a few sly tips on how to reel the billionaire in further; current stripper to former stripper—you step out of the Beverly Hills Hotel with Yunho’s black card in one hand and the three hundred dollars you earned last night in the other.
For once in your life, you can walk down the streets of L.A. without worrying about what you can or can’t afford, and that alone fills you with a freeing sense of happiness.
The morning sun glints off the sleek glass windows of luxury boutiques that seem to call your name one by one. It’s almost contagious, the way your grin refuses to fade as you eye each well-dressed mannequin, imagining which purse or which shoes Yunho might like best.
Finally, you decide to step into a high-end women’s boutique at the next corner, the glass doors sliding open with ease. Your eyes immediately landed on a simple black dress displayed on a mannequin at the front of the store, running your fingers over the fabric and taking in the understated yet elegantly conservative dress. Something about it feels right, and your heart stirs with anticipation. A spark of certainty whispers that this might be exactly what Yunho has in mind.
When you glance around, you lock eyes with a pretty brunette store clerk somehow already standing nearby. She’s tall, perfectly put together, and wearing a dark red lipstick on her lips that purse when you speak to her first.
“Hi,” you greet, flashing a smile and gesturing toward the mannequin. “How much is this?”
Her gaze drops, taking in your outfit.
The short hem of your skirt, the scuffed high heel boots, your messy hair that you didn’t bother to put together after wriggling under Yunho’s grasp that morning on his king sized bed.
The judgment towards you is instant, but she disguises it with a thin, professional smile.
“That one?” she asks, feigning surprise.
“It’s from our private collection. Most of our clients order those for galas, not… casual outings.”
You blink, unsure if you heard her right.
“Oh, I wasn’t planning on wearing it to a gala, I’m actually having dinner tonight.”
She stares you down.
“Right…” her tone falsely sweet. “It is a rather sophisticated piece. It might not suit your usual look.” Her eyes flick once more down your legs, then back up, deliberate and slow.
By now you’ve caught on to the judgement, and you can feel the air suddenly feel colder. A few customers nearby glance over, sensing the tension.
“My usual look?” you say as your brows furrow, putting a hand on your hip in confidence as your heels hit the floor loudly. “How would you know my usual look? You’ve just met me.”
She giggles, a blonde colleague who appears to be an exact evil copy of the brunette, coming to circle around you.
“Trust me, honey.” she sneers. “We know your type.”
You take a step back, pretending like you’re not hurt by their rejection, although the humiliation burns your cheeks too hot to dismiss it.
“Please leave.” the blonde shoots, looking at you as if you’d committed a crime by simply browsing in their store.
You glance at the two women, finding yourself at a loss for words. Without waiting any longer, you turn and walk out of the boutique with clenched fists.
And of course they don't stop you. In fact, you catch their reflections through the glass as the door closes, whispering something to each other that makes them chuckle out loud.
The feelings of humiliation and embarrassment settle inside you. You become self-conscious of your looks, bringing your jacket to cover your body as you quickly try to escape back to the hotel, thinking it would be better if the earth just swallowed you whole right now.
A group of upper-class businessmen stroll past, their tailored suits sharp and their gazes lingering a moment too long. A few whistles trail behind, low and mocking, and the urge to disappear tightens even more in your chest.
The ladies who follow behind have luxury handbags gleaming beneath the morning sun, one by one, passing you looks of quiet disdain. Their eyes sweep over you as if you’re clutter on their sidewalk, and almost each face of every passerby you cross seems to carry the same unspoken verdict:
You don’t belong here.
A cold breeze pushes against your back as you climb the steps to the hotel entrance. You’d held in your tears the entire walk from the boutique, but now they spill freely, hot and fresh against your cheeks. The sharp clicks of your high heels echo across the marble floor.
Too loud, too sharp and too out of place as well.
You try to steady your breathing, blinking fast to keep your vision clear, but each step feels heavier than the last.
From behind, a man's voice suddenly calls out to you.
“Hello, Miss. Is there anything I may help—”
“No, you may not!” you snap back, outstretching your arms in warning to leave you alone, while your voice cracks and betrays your efforts in hiding your disappointment.
You swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, smearing fresh, hot tears just to walk past the man wearing a pristine grey suit.
The elevator is the first thing you find, and you hurry toward it, pressing the up button again and again as if impatience could make it arrive faster. The floor numbers above creep along, changing at an agonizing pace, with a dozen more stops left to go.
A shaky sigh escapes as you shut your eyes and rest your forehead against the cool metal doors, muttering quiet, self-deprecating remarks under your breath.
You still when you sense someone approach — a faint trace of rose, an older presence settling beside you. The grey-haired man from the lobby stands a few steps away, polite enough to give you space, yet near enough to remind you you’re not alone.
Your jaw tightens as you jab the button once more, hoping movement will come before the silence grows any heavier.
You brace yourself for a harsh grip on your shoulder, already imagining the call for hotel security to drag you out. Instead, a soft blur of pale yellow fabric swings into view. A handkerchief is being offered to you.
Your glossy eyes lift to the grey-haired man, who only smiles with quiet understanding. You mumble a barely audible thank-you and take the handkerchief, dabbing at your tears before blowing your nose, loudly.
The man’s expression falters, color draining from his face at the unmistakable sound. He stiffens for a moment, then clears his throat and regains his composure, voice calm as he begins to speak.
“Would you like to tell me what is wrong? I can provide assistance for you in my office if you’d like” he nods, the wrinkles near his eyes creasing. You shake your head, dismissing him albeit this time a bit more calmly.
“I just need to get back to my room” you whimpered, shaking your head as you scrunched up the fabric in your hand.
“Do you have your cardkey?” he asks.
You shut your eyes in realization, cursing out loud again when you remember you forgot to bring it with you when you left.
“I assume you’re a guest here,”. snapping his fingers to summon one of his assistants. A woman with a tight, low bun appears almost instantly, her uniform crisp and perfectly pressed. She offers you a smile that’s all polish and professionalism. You glance between the two and let out a quiet sigh, frustration tightening your chest.
You fully expected they were going to have some sort of problem with you like before.
“Listen, I’m staying with a friend and I left my card key but I’m sure one of your little lobby people can believe me, when I say that I'm just trying to get to my room!” you say in desperation, overwhelmed with all their attention focused towards you.
The man nods again, sensing your distress.
“Would you like to discuss this in my office?” he offers once again.
You deflate, a sigh escaping your lips as you wipe the last of your tears and glance first at him, then at his assistant. With a reluctant shrug, you let him take the lead, looking forward to expecting not much help from them as well.
“Get the car ready in five,” Yunho says while sitting in the backseat of his limo, eyes flicking to his watch. Evening had already settled in.
The clock read 7:45, which was a bit later than he’d hoped.
“I’ll be back to get someone.”
His driver nods, steering toward the hotel’s front entrance. The sun’s long gone, and the outdoor hotel lights blink to life one by one, casting a soft glow across the marble steps. Yunho gets out the back door, briefcase in one hand, and cell phone in the other.
Making his way through the revolving doors, he’s about to dial the number to his room when a polite voice pulls his attention away.
“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” a short, grey-haired man responds, hands respectfully folded in front of him.
“Your younger sister has asked me to inform you she is waiting in the piano lounge” he quips, watching as Yunho halts all movements.
“My, what?” the CEO repeats.
The stubby man looks around to see if anyone is watching, raising himself on his tippy toes to whisper unnecessarily secretively into the tall man’s ear.
“The young lady staying with you in the penthouse suite!”
Yunho watches the man retreat back to his feet, readjusting his tie before realizing he was talking about you.
Yunho chuckles softly. “Right.. Thank you, Mr?” he draws out, waiting for the man's name.
“Mr. Martinez” he nods, eyes turning into crescent moons. He whips out a card from his left breast pocket.
“My business card is-”
Yunho immediately heads toward the piano lounge in search of you, leaving the poor man behind, unaware.
Guests linger nearby, smoking and sipping glasses of whiskey and wine, the soft strains of a jazz band drifting through the dimly lit room. The warm glow casts a relaxed, sophisticated mood, but Yunho’s focus cuts through it all.
As he scans the crowd without success, his brow furrows. He can’t risk being late to such an important dinner.
“You’re late.”
Yunho whips his head back, having to take a double take to realize the woman standing in front of him is none other than you.
You stand confidently, arms crossed as you wear a beautiful black dress that looks as if the silk was sewn just for you. The bodice was practically designed for you, adorning elegant, sparkly black jewels sewn into clean lines. The soft fabric hugs you in all the right places, the neckline just enough to draw the eye, and your hair, loosely done, frames your face like you’d stepped straight out of his dreams.
Yunho blinks. Once, then twice.
“You..” his voice comes out lower than usual, being caught off guard.
You raise a brow, unfazed by his lack of response.
“Me what?”
Yunho’s lips part, as if to say something clever, but no words come. His gaze lingers, but not in the usual way men look. Not with hunger or entitlement, but with admiration. The poise, the difference between the girl he met in that convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard and the elegant woman standing in front of him now.
Finally, he exhales a small astonished laugh. “You look incredible.”
“You sound surprised.” lips curving into a small, amused smile.
“I am,” he admits, eyes never having left you since he first saw you.
“You’re beautiful. The dress is perfect.”
You tilt your head a bit, trying not to let the flattering compliments get to you.
“So you did notice the dress.” you smirk, your curves held delicately in place.
“I noticed everything,” he mutters quietly.
You smile, feeling a wave of internal relief wash over you from knowing that Mr. Martinez’s efforts, along with the help of his hotel assistants, called the luxury department store employees to get you perfectly ready for Yunho tonight.
“Shall we?” the tall man grins, extending his arm for you to hold. After trying to hide your smile but failing, you take his arm in your own and softly walk out of the piano lounge, the shiny polished marble floors reflecting every sparkle on the dress.
You still get that nervous feeling from stares and whispers coming from other guests, yet only this time, they’re left wondering just who the elegant lady Jeong Yunho was carrying by his side was.
“You’re stunning.” Yunho tells you from under his breath. You glance to the side and lock eyes with Mr. Martinez who stands from across the hotel lobby, smiling at you with a look of pride and genuine excitement.
When he sends a small bow, you grin and politely share it back, gratitude blossoming in your heart.
Dinner with the Choi’s starts smoother than you expected. Yunho invited you to a sophisticated three Michelin star restaurant that had a four month wait list in Beverly Hills. Walking through that front entrance while passing the lineup of guests waiting outside was intimidating, feeling as Yunho had his hand on your lower back to help guide you.
Just as he commanded everything else, he did the same with you, only gentler.
He politely introduced you to Chairwoman Choi, the relic he had warned you about during the limo ride there, and then to her grandson San, who was a high profile executive director at Marinex.
He was attending as well to discuss further details about business with Yunho. But when you catch the glare he shot at Yunho the minute he met him, you could tell with quiet worry that tonight wasn’t going to be an easy dinner.
The evening unfolds with soft laughter, clinking glasses, and the kind of polite conversation that fills the spaces between appetizers and main courses. You’d spent most of the night sitting beside Chairwoman Choi herself — a woman as sharp as she was composed, as her presence commanded the entire table without ever having to raise her voice.
“I like your dress by the way, dear,” she says at one point. Despite not sparing you a glance, her tone seems genuine.
The kind that’s laced with the authority of someone who was used to being listened to.
You smiled at the old lady and bowed, caught a little off guard but nonetheless thankful.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You make a mental note to thank Mr. Martinez for the dress that you’ve been receiving compliments all night about.
She hums back, swirling the red wine in her wine glass with a small sigh, growing tired as she watches her grandson spar stubbornly with Yunho across the table.
Polite talk was over. Real business had begun.
“You’re nothing but a conniving, manipulating fraud, Jeong Yunho” San snaps, the grandson and heir to the shipping empire looking a bit red after having downed that last glass of whiskey in outrage.
He, just like his grandmother, are both strongly against Yunho buying their company just to break it up into pieces and sell off to his investors. The whole night had been Yunho steadily convincing and negotiating with the businessman, though you recognize a tipping point had come.
You glance over to the accused man sitting beside you, remaining unnervingly calm.
Almost untouchable.
Yunho’s gaze doesn’t waver, his posture relaxed.
“You can leave your filthy hands off my family’s legacy and buy some other bastard’s shipping company to add to your collection” he hisses, staring the multi-billionaire down with great determination.
You look over to see Chairwoman Choi’s thin lips stretch with pride at her grandson’s loyalty to the family business, eyeing him carefully and listening for Yunho’s reaction.
As you’re watching, you can’t help but think it’s incredible. One would think all the chairwoman seemed to be doing at the dinner table was sipping her wine while sitting in silence, but in reality, she was the puppeteer.
Every glance behind the rim of her glass, and every subtle gesture she made guided her grandson, shaping his counterattacks with precision.
“At the price I’m offering for this stock, you and your grandmother will profit immensely,” Yunho replies evenly, laying out the facts so the young heir could understand the profitable benefits of this business agreement.
“And believe me, Choi. I don’t plan on backing down with my offers anytime soon. You’ll have to accept what I tell you, especially now that your destroyer contracts are buried with the appropriations committee.”
The Chairwoman rolls her eyes, having enough of the banter as she takes the last measured sip of her wine. She then locks eyes with the nearby waiter who freezes in place, waiting for her subtle signal to come.
Even in silence, she commands attention, her presence cutting through the tension like a blade.
Incredible you mumbled with awe, eyes widening when you realize you’ve said it out loud to her.
The old woman chuckles softly but loud enough so that Yunho and her grandson look over.
San’s lips pursed in a thin line at the sight of his grandma making small talk with his opponent's partner, turning back to hurl more threats and unwavering promises of how he was going to fight back Yunho’s efforts to buy their company.
Yunho doesn’t listen, only to stare you down as he tries to read your thoughts in the middle of dinner. Surprisingly, you do the same back at him.
“It’s refreshing to see a woman who doesn’t hide behind too much,” the chairwoman comments after noticing your strong gazes, her eyes flicking towards you.
“Especially ones who don’t hide behind their man. There’s a certain honesty in simplicity.”
You sense she’s reading beneath the surface of your relationship, recognizing that while you’re here because Yunho asked you to be, there’s a genuine appreciation for the care and thoughtfulness you’ve brought to the evening. You didn’t hesitate to ask questions throughout the meal—wondering which fork to use, why the fish still seemed alive, or whether eating it while it twitched was inhumane.
The chairwoman found it quietly amusing that, despite contending with her grandson in a tense exchange, Yunho still took the time to answer every question with patience and respect, treating your curiosity with a sincerity that felt almost rare.
“It’s almost surprising how a sweet thing like you ended up here tonight. By none other than Mr. Jeong, too” she said, watching as San suddenly slammed his fists on the dinner table.
The sound makes you jump in your seat, a small yelp escaping your lips as you clutched your heart. The woman beside you doesn’t even flinch at her grandson's outburst, having grown accustomed to it at this point.
“My grandmother believes that the one who creates a company should also control its destiny,” Choi San declares, nostrils flaring with anger.
“People like my grandparents built the shipping industry in this country from the ground up, never once imagining they’d have to hand it over to scum such as yourself.”
Across the table, Yunho spares a moment to briefly glance at you, the faint trace of a smile tugging at his lips — it was a silent check-in, gauging how you’re handling your first experience of high-stakes business negotiation.
When you return a small nod back, swallowing your nerves to let him know you’re alright, Yunho focuses back to the discussion between him and San, uncrossing his legs to lean back into his armchair comfortably and smirk at the young business man opposite to him.
“Let me ask you a question, Mr. Jeong.” San mutters bitterly.
“If you were to get a hold of my grandmother’s company, which I doubt you ever will, what would you plan on doing with it?” He asked, resting his hands on the table as he leaned in menacingly, waiting for a plausible excuse.
Yunho stares him down. “Do as I have done best. Break it up and sell it off as pieces” he states emotionlessly.
His response sets off another one of San’s arguments to fire back, the loud noise coming from the men suddenly draining into background noise when the old lady turns to speak to you again.
“You remind me of myself,” she confessed.
You raised a brow in skepticality. “Me?”
She nodded, a grin ghosting along the edges of her wrinkly cheeks as she spoke.
“I was once as young, pretty, and innocent as you” she reminisces, her eyes grazing over the bustling city view from the windows of the private dining room Yunho had booked.
“And I was naive.” she sighed, the shiny pearls resting against her blouse rising up and then down slowly. “Far too fearless to be running my own company. ” She shook her head.
You listened carefully, feeling as if you were back home again and you were hearing your grandmother talk about her own stories from the past.
“You seem like the type of lady that had everything planned perfectly at my age” you tell her truthfully.
She looks at you, admiring your youth before San’s voice echoed in the room. Both women turn their heads to momentarily witness the draining banter still happening back and forth.
“Leave my goddamn company alone!”
“I can’t do that. I own ten million shares”
“I’ll buy your stock back then!”
“You don’t have the money,”
“Well I’m rich enough!” San shoots back.
The chairwoman shakes her head, focusing back on your conversation. She takes your hand in her own. They’re worn, fragile, and yet surprisingly steady and adorned with many shiny rings.
“Contrary to how people act or appear on the outside, one never really knows who they truly are unless you make an effort to understand them” she tells you. You look back at her with confusion.
“I certainly don’t appreciate your dinner date turning fifty years of me and my husband’s legacy into one of his dissections,” she begins, eyes shutting in distaste at the thought of how Yunho would sell off her company into pieces. She reopens them to continue.
“But I’ve known Yunho since he was a little boy.” she admits, eyes narrowing in on him. You look at her with surprise.
“You have?”
She nods. “I’ve seen him try very hard to follow in his father’s footsteps since the moment he joined them.” she states, her choice of words making you furrow your brows in confusion.
Noticing your expression, she quickly clears her voice.
“I mean to say, that Yunho has only learned from what he’d been surrounded with since birth.”
Money. Authority. Ruthlessness.
Her voice softens. “No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But that’s all Yunho has had up until now. When his mother and father died during his senior year of boarding school, I couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must have been to see your own blood relatives —even if distant—rush to claim every scrap of your inheritance,” she confesses, forcing you to step back and absorb the full weight of such calculated betrayal.
Yunho had no parents. Even his own blood tried to steal his inheritance from him.
“That boy had to prove to others that he could protect his family’s legacy. A legacy that wasn’t always supposed to be his.” she recalls solemnly.
“For Mr. and Mrs. Jeong who originally had no heir to pass their inheritance to, Yunho was their sole beacon of hope.” She stated.
“They loved that boy, and he did the same. How heartbroken they’d be to see even his father's vice-chair committee look down in skepticism that an eighteen year old heir could take over.”
She chuckled dryly.
“But of course, he didn’t back down from that fight either.”
You glance over to envision the young, helpless boy who had grown into a powerful, leading man. Studying the subtle rise and fall of his breathing as he navigates the details of the agreement with San.
Her words replay in your mind, providing context with why Yunho needed to carry quiet strength and precision with every gesture of his. He had been lied to for all of his adulthood. By his money-hungry relatives nonetheless. And the chairwoman made another great point.
No matter how many walls someone could try and put up, they can always be broken down.
You wonder if perhaps that's why Yunho continued to keep you close. To him, you were an open book. A relatively small threat… at least, with what he knew about you so far.
You shake your head to get rid of that idea.
Only after the liquor is finished and his anger reaches a simmer, does San turn to his grandmother, shaking his head and urging her to head back home early for some rest.
“Let’s go, halmeoni,” he gently ushers his grandmother, getting up from his seat. The woman slowly stands with her cane, with the both of you also standing up to show respect.
“Yunho,” she smiles, calling the multi-billionaire by his first name because she can. She clutches her cane closer as she holds onto her grandson's strong arm for support.
“Your father would be proud to see his son upholding the family name,” she mutters.
Yunho is quiet, hands folded over one another as he stares down the elderly woman intensely at the mention of his father.
As she shuffles closer, you watch as the chairwoman’s eyes darkened in determination, whispering something that only proved she still had her mind and morals fiercely intact.
“But he’d be just as disappointed to see my grandson and I tear you apart.”
You watch as Yunho registers her promising threat, lips forming a small smirk before he takes a deep respectful bow to the elder.
“I look forward to it, ma’am.”
She ignores his response, turning to his left to see where you stood waiting patiently nearby.
“It was quite lovely meeting you, dear. You may come visit me in my sonamu garden sometime. You’ll love the red pine trees in the fall.” she grins, showing the rare sight of her teeth.
You copy Yunho and bow deeply with respect as well.
“It would be my absolute honour, Chairwoman Choi. The pleasure was all mine.”
San bows to you as well and bids you a well-mannered good night. But with Yunho, casting one final, piercing look at the CEO is all he thinks he deserves.
San turns and helps escort his grandmother away, noticing how she doesn’t hesitate to slap her grandson on the back and chastise him for having too much to drink tonight. The boy pouts, rubbing the pain away with rosy cheeks.
Once the Choi's are gone, you slump back down in your seat, a wave of tiredness washing over you from the long, intense meal.
Who knew dinner could be so hostile?
Yunho stood nearby, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and petting your head softly. Somehow, you could tell this would be a habit of his towards you.
“You did very well tonight,” he praised softly. He knew business dinners could be exhausting.
That’s why his past dates never lasted long enough to earn a second one.
You closed your eyes, leaning into his warm touch as you slipped your sore feet out of your heels from underneath the draping table cloth.
“She’s one heck of a lady, but I can tell that she’s become tame these past few years.” he mutters, the gears in his brain recalculating the steps and strategies he needs to pull in order to seal this deal the next time he encounters the Choi’s.
“She’ll probably be leaving the business to her grandson now, judging by the way she sat mostly in silence tonight.”
In Yunho’s lawyer, Patrick’s eyes, tonight would’ve been a complete failure. He didn’t get Chairwoman Choi to sign the agreement, and there were hardly any productive developments from discussing business with her grandson, San.
Still, Yunho enjoyed dinner with you nonetheless, and found that your presence beside him helped very much.
The CEO lets out a hum at you when your soft, tired voice cuts him from his thoughts. You blink away the tiredness as Yunho’s palm continues to gently play with your hair.
“Can we go back to the hotel now?”
The large doors of the penthouse open, the soft shuffling of your tired bare feet echo throughout the front foyer. Your high heels were picked up in Yunho’s hands after you discarded the painful shoes the moment you got in the elevator of the hotel. You groaned, heading over to slump in his white cashmere sofa as he quietly locked the door shut, placing the red bottomed heels on the ground.
“Would you like to wash up first, or should I?” Yunho sighs, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the trail of his suit vest. He watches you turn your head that’s resting on the arm of the sofa upside down, a bold suggestion passing your lips as you shoot him a look he already knows means trouble.
“Why don’t we do it together?”
He stands still, one hand unbuttoning his white shirt while smirking at your words as he gestures to the master bedroom.
“Come on, then.”
Getting into said shower was more of a hassle than anything else. You had to have pried Yunho’s hands off your body at least ten times, seeing as they would latch onto any part you revealed when you stripped out of your cocktail dress and matching lingerie set.
“So soft,” Yunho whispers, kissing your temple as you both stand in front of the bathroom mirror. He held your form from behind, arms circling around your waist and holding you close to his bare chest as you rested your tired head against it.
Two hands roamed your stomach, fluttering kisses being constantly pressed against your bare neck and shoulders as Yunho ended his long, draining night with your warm body in his embrace.
“The water’s ready,” you giggled, reminding him how the shower head he turned on earlier was probably letting out warm water by now. You ignore his pleas to continue staying like this, intertwining your hand with his own large ones and bringing him into the booth to stand under the water. Both of you moan the second the water hits your bodies, as a reviving feeling returns.
Yunho even curses under his breath, standing tall to let the water hit his back while your fingers traced over his lean abdomen and strong chest.
The only sounds come from the running water, pit pats resonating as the droplets hit the shower booth floor. You look up at the naked man holding you in his arms, noticing his hair stick to his forehead as the water keeps his eyes shut.
“You didn’t speak much after dinner” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his clavicle.
He slowly opens his eyes, rubbing his face to look down at your damp hair and bare face as the water travels down the valley of your breasts. When you try to hold eye contact for a moment longer, Yunho diverts his attention away. He doesn’t want to discuss the earlier events of tonight too much.
With hesitation, you bring up what Chairwoman Choi told you.
“I’m sorry about your parents” you told him softly, holding him closer. You feel that he needs it.
Yunho stares down at you, pulling back a bit to look in your eyes and guess how you knew such personal details before you cut him off.
“The chairwoman told me.”
The shower head runs continuously, steam rising amidst the quiet space between you two.
“I thought back to what I said about your parents the first time I came here.” you say, focusing on Yunho’s chest, and the way it rose up and down with every careful breath he took. You recognized what a sensitive topic family could mean to him.
“I still meant it,” you admit, looking up at the dark orbs staring you down in intimidation.
“They would be proud of you.”
Yours and Yunhos hearts are so close as they are pressed against one another right now.
“The chairwoman is proud too” you say, moving to adjust your embrace and unknowingly nuzzling your breasts sideways against his body while the man lets out a low, painful moan.
Yunho doesn’t say anything back, choosing to instead pick you up carefully and press your body against the shower wall, your breath hitching as the cold surface sends shivers down your spine.
“Yunho,” you whispered. He doesn’t react to your words, choosing to lose himself in your body tonight.
You gasp when you feel something bare and hard brush against your body, realizing this was the first time Yunho’s cock was lingering near your lower entrance.
With his arms hoisting you up by the undersides of your thighs, you could spread them just enough so he could watch the water drain through your pelvis, your sopping hole getting droplets from the shower water above.
He watches your facial expressions with attention, the way your mouth contorts and soft breaths come out unevenly when his fingers insert themselves boldly into your entrance.
The water allows him to slide way too easily for your liking, as your breath becomes lost amongst the humid air.
“ah– fuck, yunho” you breathed, feeling his digits stretch you out for the third time that day. The glass doors and windows of the shower booth keep fogging up.
And yes, the third time that day was correct because someone decided it was a good idea to let off steam in the middle of an intense business dinner by dragging you into the nearest restroom and shoving their tongue in your pussy.
Your clit tingles with the way you remember how he muffled your moans by shoving your panties in your mouth as you let him taste your sweet nectar for the second time again that day.
You’re absolutely positive by now that Yunho was initially lying when he said he only wanted to hold you in his arms when you discussed the physical intimacy part of your contract. Along with the fact that he enjoyed occasional cunnilingus.
For one, he should’ve specified he wanted to hold you in his arms while he kisses you until you’re out of breath. And secondly, he should’ve specified that he enjoyed constant cunnilingus that fuelled nothing but an unsatisfied hunger of his.
“you’re still so tight,” he mutters in awe while shaking his head, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Yunho dares to add two more fingers, bringing it to a total of three fingers stretching your cunt right now.
“shit!–” you groan, jolting at his touch.
While you do love the sensation, your eyes can’t help but drop back down in curiosity to witness his engorged cock bristle and twitch against your body. Yunho actually jerks back every time it does, hoping not to alarm you with the act of penetration.
At least, not just yet.
You feel unsatisfied with only your pussy getting the attention, a craving falling upon your sweet lips when you tell Yunho directly.
“Slap it on my tongue.”
You abruptly urge him to lower you to the ground, to which when he does, you push him back to let the running water flow through the gap between you.
You look up at the older man with lust clouding your vision, noting the dull ache in your pussy from the loss of contact of his fingers, and yet an even more insatiable want settling on the tip of your filthy tongue.
You needed to hold Yunho in your mouth.
Absolutely all of him.
His brows furrow at your actions, eyes wrinkling with the water getting in them, though a low groan escapes just when he realizes what you mean.
His line of vision traces down, back to where your attention has been this entire time.
“don’t fucking tease me,” he warns you with baited breath, running his fingers through your hair and firmly pressing you back against the marble walls, reminding you of his power over you.
Yunho had as much power over you to keep you under control, and yet you still fought back, your voice raising in protest.
“I’m not teasing!”
Sorry but he has to laugh. He’s seriously underestimating your mouth’s capacity.
“You’re going to struggle” he warns in a deep voice, begging you to just back down for once and stop challenging him.
But he knows you won’t ever consider that with the way you smirk and run your hands over his ass, giving him a squeeze while digging your nails into the flesh. Yunho jolts forward, his rigid cock brushing into your wet hairy bush.
“I don’t care” you whine, pulling him in with proper bait.
The tall man resists your hands pulling him in by his hair, raising his hands to cage you against the wall so that his thick, leaking cock be the bridge between your bodies.
You nearly cum when you hear Yunho finally place his command upon you.
“Help yourself, then”
A surge of pervertedness flows through his veins when you get down on your knees, face level with the member as he steps forward, accidentally hitting your cheek with it. You blink in surprise, glaring up at him as he chuckles nervously.
“Sorry, baby” he coos, helping you guide your mouth to latch onto his bulbous head properly, his large hands resting against the back of your head.
“Choke on it if you can.” He lets out, feeling your warm mouth expand with every inch you welcomed him with. You took him like a fucking champ.
Yunho tastes salty but fresh, his tip hitting the back of your mouth and playing a teasing game of tag with your uvula.
Your moans vibrate against his dick directly because he’s barely letting any space get between your mouth and his cock. So your whines don’t even come out perfectly.
“I want to hear you.” he still insists, fists clenching against the cool marble as he thrusts up hard into your mouth. You shriek, making eye contact with a rosy cheeked Yunho who stares down at you in amazement.
“Mhugh!” you slobbered, glaring up at him as you try and chastise him for using your mouth too much as per his wishes, but it all comes out sounding like complete gibberish.
Yunho can’t help but smile, unknowingly realizing how nice it was to have you choke around him like this.
“Mf fmg bick” you huff, trying to call him something along the lines of ‘you fucking dick’ but failing and just having to literally take his dick instead.
Yunho thrusts into you at a steady pace & works his magic to make you completely unravel beneath him. He places delicate strokes of affection through your hair, making a makeshift cover for your face with his hands when some of the shower water splashes in your eyes while you're working hard below.
Suddenly, you pull back for a moment, rubbing your fist to pump Yunho's massive cock as your head dips lower into his pelvic region and your mouth latches onto a bulbous sack of flesh.
“SHIT-”
You repeatedly conduct the motion of plopping Yunho’s balls in your mouth, your sweet lips encasing around them like a present needing wrapping paper. His hands fly to the wall for support as he watches you suck him with such fervour and enthusiasm.
“Just like that, sweetheart. That's it, suck those balls real good.”
Your nose touches the underside of his long member repeatedly, applying precise suction and pressure to his testes that leaves Yunho to rut his hips pathetically against your mouth.
Your knees begin to hurt a little, the pattern of the marble tiles indenting in your skin as you continue to let Yunho place his balls sloppily against your mouth and chin.
With the thumb of your hand rubbing the tip of his cock as well, smearing precum all over, he decides he needs to fill your mouth properly when he cums.
Yunho pushes away to hear you let out a loud breath for air, sighing with satisfaction and a cheeky smirk before he leans down to press his mouth against your own, teeth clashing and kissing you with absolute obsession.
“Mhm” you vibrate against his lips, still cock drunk as Yunho pulls away and stands back up straight to slide his cock into your mouth again.
Yunho’s strokes match their speed from before, going a bit faster this time and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Such a pretty little thing you are.”
And that’s all it takes before the man finally pulls out in time to splurt his white semen all over your face, chin and body, watching the white ropes travel down in the drain as you gagged and shrieked in surprise.
“Yunho!” You said in an angry tone, though you loved his aiming skills that made sure to target placing his seed in between your breasts so it would slide lower. If his aim had been even lower and you were also in a different position, you might've even swirled it around your nub.
“Fuck..” he mumbles, immediately picking you up and pressing kisses along the column of your sore throat, praising you and thanking you for taking him so well. His lips are hot as they mumbles incoherent words against your body, practically worshipping you in his arms.
“So good to me” he purrs, though you slap him against the arm when you realize why there’s so much of him all over you.
“You liked shutting me up, didn’t you?” you croaked, accusing him as his hands massage your thighs, letting your legs wrap around his waist. Yunho supports you carefully as your eyes begin to narrow in on him.
“You liked stuffing my mouth full”
The billionaire does nothing but grin, pressing his lips against your for a proper kiss now, making you forget your words and shut your eyes in bliss. Usually he loves hearing you speak, but he finds that sometimes, it’s not half as bad shutting you up this way either.
The next morning, just as Yunho is about to leave for work, he pauses by your side. You’re still fast asleep, curled beneath the sheets as his expression softens, and the side of the bed dips with his body weight. A warm hand rubs your back, stirring you awake.
“C’mon, sweetheart. More shopping today” he says lightly, his tone teasing as he sets his credit card on the nightstand. He seems in unusually high spirits this morning, smiling when you let out a sleepy groan in protest.
When you sit up, stretching, Yunho studies you with mild confusion.
“I was honestly expecting you to buy a few more dresses yesterday,” he says with a quiet chuckle. He reaches for his watch on the stand nearby.
“I was surprised to see you didn’t go all out”
Your response lacks enthusiasm, wiping the sleep from your eyes tiredly.
“I didn’t like it as much.”
The shift in your tone makes him glance back, reading your face as the image of the two female store clerks is repainted inside your head.
Their stares. The judgment in their voices. How small they made you feel. The memory still stings. Yunho stops and turns to look at you while in the middle of putting on his wristwatch when he hears you then confess.
“They were mean to me.”
The man’s expression hardens. He leans closer, propping your chin upwards with his thumb so he could look at you properly.
“Mean to you?”
When the flashes of disappointment and embarrassment cross your face, you choose to hold back your response to his words, bringing your head back down to avoid eye contact with him.
Yunho shifts closer to you in silence before reaching for the phone on the bedside table, carefully picking up the receiver.
You furrow your brows.
“Who are you-”
He gently lifts a finger, quietly silencing you before the line picks up.
“Start the morning briefing without me, Patrick” he says, no further explanation needing to be given to his employee.
When he turns back to you, a small smile returns.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll show you how much fun shopping can really be.”
Yunho’s pace is unhurried as always, confident with every stride he takes along the concrete sidewalk of Rodeo Drive. It was the same place you’d visited just yesterday afternoon.
His fingers are laced through yours, the steady grip firm and reassuring, unbothered by the glances of those passing by.
“People are looking at me,” you huff, tugging at the hem of your skirt as you struggle to match his long strides.
Yunho corrects you. “They’re looking at me. And even if they were looking at you, forget them.”
A twinge of skepticism resides inside you. Even if you did have Yunho by your side this time, you’d still lack protection against the judgemental stares and backhanded comments launched by some other snobby sales associate.
“These stores are not nice to others,” you point out, shaking your head. “I don’t like it here”
Yunho lets out a quiet chuckle, eyes fixed ahead as his free hand slips casually into his pocket.
“Stores aren’t supposed to be nice to people, sweetheart. They’re nice to credit cards.”
You roll your eyes, but before you can reply, he stops abruptly in front of a glass-front boutique gleaming with white marble and gold accents. Turning toward you, Yunho reaches out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his expression unreadable.
“Alright,” he says evenly, “spit out your gum.”
You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a flicker of defiance rise.
There’s something about the way Yunho commands everything. So confident and unbothered. How he pulled you out of bed this morning despite your protests against shopping somewhere like here where you felt as though you didn’t belong. It makes you want to push back.
Knowing he’s watching, you turn your head and spit out your gum onto the sidewalk unpleasantly.
“Satisfied?” you hum.
The older man stares down at you, jaw tightening ever so slightly.
“I cannot believe you just did that,” he mutters under his breath, though a hint of amusement ghosts across his face when he catches your smug grin.
This time, when you step into the boutique, the atmosphere feels entirely different. A woman in a tailored blue blazer and pencil skirt greets you with a polished smile, the sapphire of her pearl earrings catching under the boutique’s soft lighting.
“Welcome! How may we help you today, sir?” she asks Yunho who steps forward first.
He releases your hand for a moment, looking straight at the woman as his voice drops into that smooth, low register that always had a charm for getting people to listen.
“Do you see the very lovely young lady standing beside me right now?”
The saleswoman’s gaze flickers toward you. Her smile wavers, though she tries to recover, blinking once before replying,
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
“Good,” Yunho says simply. His lips curve, though his eyes remain steady. His intimidating demeanour is deliberate.
“Then I suggest you get every associate you have in this place to help her find whatever she wants.” he states, eyeing him from afar as he leans in just a fraction to lower his voice to something almost conspiratorial. “Because we are about to be spending an obscene amount of money in your store today.” he promises, lips threatening to curve into a grin when he feels your hand slap him on the shoulder lightly.
A small hush follows his words, and for a moment, you feel every pair of eyes in the boutique turn in your direction.
Only this time, it's not judgement but sudden, sharpened interest.
The woman is sharp enough not to waste another second. She had suspected who the multi-billionaire was the moment he crossed the threshold of her store.
“Right this way, miss,” she beams, her tone switching instantly from polite to perfectly accommodating. Within seconds, she snaps her fingers, summoning a team of associates who rush over as if answering a royal decree.
You’re gently ushered toward a plush velvet seat near the center of the boutique. The cushion sinks beneath you, soft and indulgent, while a faint scent of jasmine drifts from the nearby display.
“You’re absolutely radiant, my darling,” the manager coos. “I can assure you we’ll find plenty of things you’ll fall in love with from our new spring collection.”
Before you can even reply, a flurry of movement surrounds you—heels clicking against marble floors, arms laden with racks of silk, chiffon, and cashmere.
“Hello Miss, my name is Emilia,” one of the consultants introduces herself with a polished smile. “It’s my great pleasure to assist you today.”
“How about these heels?” another girl asks brightly, presenting a delicate pair of red soles.
“This dress would look absolutely stunning on you!” chimes a second voice.
“And this scarf! Your hair color would just bring it to life!” adds a third.
It’s overwhelming—the abundance of choice, the rush of voices, the warmth of attention. Only yesterday you had been dismissed, judged, treated as if you didn’t belong. Now, here you were being the center of someone else’s orbit.
Your eyes instinctively find Yunho. He’s standing off to the side, phone in hand, his voice low and steady as he speaks to someone on the other end. When he notices you looking, he pauses just long enough to meet your gaze. The faintest smile of satisfaction tugs at his lips.
“Ladies!” the store manager suddenly chastizes, clapping her hands together,
“What are we doing not offering our guests their complimentary welcome drink?”
A soft laugh escapes you, warmth flooding your chest as a flute of champagne is placed delicately into your hand.
Yunho catches the sound of your laughter and, for a moment, Patrick’s voice shouting through the phone fades into meaningless noise. The warmth in your tone pulls his attention entirely, an unguarded sound that makes his chest tighten.
When you look up and your eyes find him across the room, you offer a small, genuine smile.
Thank you, you mouth softly, the words lingering between you like a secret.
Yunho’s expression softens. He waits until he’s certain you’re watching before forming his reply. Three words shaped carefully from across the sea of designer clothes and luxury shoes.
You deserve it.
After practically buying out the boutique’s entire collection of clothes and accessories, Yunho calls his limousine to pick you both up. The two of you leave the car’s trunk packed to the brim with glossy shopping bags, a quiet surge of satisfaction flickering across the rich man’s face as he settles into the back seat beside you.
“You just spent over ten thousand dollars on clothes, you know that?” you whispered to him, fidgeting with the end of his tie as your head rested against his chest. Yunho smiles, the amount being just a plain regular number to him.
“Your point?” he smirks, letting his hand wrap around your waist and slide down your thigh, enjoying the feeling of your body nestled next to him.
“They’re all for you. You deserve it” He repeats, knowing he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
You shake your head, unable to believe how casual Yunho was treating this.
“Don’t you need to go back to the office and make more money for me to spend?” you joked, looking up at him and feeling the way his chest rumbled with low laughter. You cling onto him with affection.
Yunho looks down and confesses something to you.
“I did something I haven’t ever done in my life today” he grins, realizing how you were slowly changing him.
“And what’s that?” you asked.
“I called the office, telling them I was going to take the day off with you” he muttered, leaning in to lock your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.
You let out a soft moan, both of you molding each other's body to fit with one another. Your eyes are closed, lost in the sensation before you push him back in realization.
“Wait, wait wait, you’re telling me you’ve never taken a day off in your entire life? All thirty-seven years?”
Yunho winces at your reminder about his age.
“Is that really so surprising?” he retorted back.
You lean back your head against his chest, the limousine moving swiftly through the streets leading back to the hotel.
“Well..yeah..” you muttered in awe, twirling a strand of hair around your index finger in deep thought. How on earth Yunho had managed to work like he did without any breaks made you wonder how he was still functioning to this day.
That’s when an idea pops into your head.
“You know what?” you declare, sitting up and looking Yunho properly in the eyes.
“We need to do something fun today”
“Didn’t you think shopping was fun?” he asks, watching as you roll your eyes.
“Of course I thought it was fun! I just meant we should do something you’ve never done before. Something other than taking a day off.”
Yunho hums thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth curving into a grin as he tilts his head, studying your animated expression.
“And what exactly would that be?”
“Anything,” you say, eyes lighting up. “I could take you to explore parts of the city you’ve never seen, ride the subway downtown, maybe even visit the Port of Los Angeles and eat wiener dogs by the waters. Just… normal things you’ve never done before.”
Yunho laughs, considering your suggestion. It completely contrasted something he’d usually choose to do with his free time.
Yunho carefully leans in.
“Then why don’t I also indulge you in some trips to places you’ve never been before either?”
You quirk your brow in interest.
“We can take my private jet to see the opera “La Traviata" in San Francisco. “ he gleams, smiling at the idea.
“I have a yacht we can use to cruise around the port, or you can even accompany me for dinner at my favourite jazz bar downtown.”
“It’ll be me giving you a taste of my world” he shrugs, watching as you smile at him, beaming at his words.
Your fall quiet, looking at the man in front of you straight in the eyes and identifying the comfortable silence settling between one other.
You'd grown so accustomed to this dream lifestyle with him, a part of your heart aches inside your chest when you realize you're going to have to leave it all so soon.
You try not to think about it too much, masking your guilt with performance.
“Careful, Yunho." you teased, breath hitching when delicate fingers slid over the flesh of your inner thighs.
"You only have me for two more days, and yet I'd say you’re thinking of keeping me for even longer…”
He softens, slowly breaking down his strictly business facade bit by bit, with every moment of physical touches and soft whispers shared between you and him.
“I guess I need to be spending my time more wisely with you then.”
You hum in response, leaning back to your spot with your head on his chest as you hear Yunho take charge and call out to his chauffer.
"Get the jet ready. We'll be making a few short trips today"
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